Title: Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows

Author: Kimberly21570

Fandoms: Guiding Light / All My Children

Pairings: Olivia and Natalia / Lena and Bianca

Disclaimers and other Assorted Ramblings: The characters of Olivia Spencer, Natalia Rivera, Doris and Ashlee Wolfe, Alan Spaulding, and Jamanda Weeks are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble.

No copyright infringement intended with regard to Guiding Light, CBS/TeleNext, Proctor & Gamble, or any other entity. With the exception of a brief mention of the conversation that took place between Olivia and Doris on 2.4.2009, the dialogue, settings, and story content in these scenes are original. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.

Thank you to my "Jolly Ranchers" Floozy, Romy70, MoniRod, and JanetB418 for your invaluable input regarding beer. I don't drink the stuff. Can't even stand the smell of it. So I would've failed miserably had I attempted to choose an appropriate brew for the scene I had planned. And finally, thanks to my pal, MoniRod for the edit. I know it must've been a HUGE sacrifice for you to read all of this SMEXY! Thanks for suffering for the cause… ;-)

Rating: This section of Chapter 14 is rated NC-17 for some serious SMEXY! Admittedly, I've never written anything this sexually "raw," so I hope it doesn't seem too out of place, and that you all find it worth the read.

Hope y'all enjoy!

Kim

Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows

Copyright May 2009

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 4 Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. 5 If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. 6 But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. 7 That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. 8 Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do."

— James 1:2-8, the Bible, New International Version (NIV)

"God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage. If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it."

Unknown

Chapter 14.11 – Trials and Tribulations:

Wednesday, June 17, 2009… Interrogation Room, Springfield Police Department—7:00 p.m. Central Daylight Time

"What?" Tracy's face held a bewildered expression, as she stared at the photograph of the young woman she knew only as Toni. She simply couldn't believe this was the person who was accusing her of such a vile act. The girl she remembered from all those years ago was quiet, and shy, almost to the point of being awkward. But once she warmed up to you, she was sweet and funny, and…

Her breath caught in her chest, as a handful of seemingly mismatched pieces fell into place. And then disjointed memories of that night were assaulting her with a screaming vengeance. Oh, my God… The frat house, the party, the blaring music, the spiked punch… and Toni, half-naked and clinging to her, their mouths locked in a fierce kiss, as she pressed Tracy against a wall. Was it possible?

Oh, God… What have I done?

Dani studied her vigilantly, as a series of thoughts and emotions played out like a movie across Tracy's flawless face. There was something there, in her eyes, in the flicker of pain that slowly evanesced. A story of some sort. Dani could sense it. And if she could sense it, so would Langston Malloy. The detective's reputation for excavating the truth from the cavernous depths of even the most inscrutable lies, preceded her, and Dani had to know the entire story before allowing her client to be questioned.

Steeling herself, she prayed that her instincts hadn't been wrong about this woman. That would sting far more than she cared to admit. Reaching with quiet deliberation, she pulled her dark-rimmed glasses from her face, removing any perceived barrier between them. And then she leaned forward, casually clasping her hands on the table in front of her. "Tell me the story, Tracy," she prodded with a gentle confidence. "What happened between the two of you at that party?"

Wednesday, June 17, 2009… Bennett Thomas's Residence—7:00 p.m. Central Daylight Time

Sashaying toward the front door of her penthouse on the bluffs overlooking Lake Springfield, Bennett Thomas practically drifted on air in her burgundy silk lounge wear, as she contemplated the woman whose knock had summoned her. She had missed Doris terribly. More than she had realized, actually. And all day long she had been contemplating their evening. It wasn't just the sex. Though, that was spectacular. It was the woman, herself. Her infectious laugh. Her dazzling smile. Her quick wit; sarcastic though it often was. Bennett grinned at that one. And then her thoughts returned to Doris—to that mischievous sparkle that always flashed in the midnight blue of her eyes as she seductively relieved Bennett of her clothing… She missed all of her—body, soul, and spirit—and she couldn't wait to be reunited, even with the bitchy part of her.

Pausing briefly, she surveyed her appearance in the ornate rectangular mirror that hung over an antique side table near the double entryway. Perfection. Doris would be more than pleased, she was certain. She was wearing her lover's favorite color, after all. And absolutely nothing underneath.

She smirked at the thought, tousled her hair to give it that sexy, sassy edge that Doris found so completely irresistible, and reached for the door handles with a graceful gesture of the hands.

On the other side of the door, Doris stood with her hands full, her heart racing with a sense of nervousness she hadn't felt in nearly twenty years. She had excused herself from the vigil at the police station, citing the pretext of a work-related meeting, and headed home to change. It wasn't a lie, was it? After all, Bennett had said it was both pleasure and business. But Doris was far too focused on the promise of pleasure, as she showered, and then meticulously selected her outfit and accessories, applied her make-up, and coifed her hair.

Everything was different now. Bennett was divorced. Would that… could that… change things? She was too scared to contemplate, and so there she stood, knees trembling, like a teenager waiting at the door for a first date with her high school crush.

The doors parted, and slowly, Bennett's admiring gaze perused Doris's shapely form, from the sleek designer pumps on her feet, along toned calves that turned into the promise of firm thighs before disappearing beneath the hem of a gray pinstriped skirt. Her body already humming, Bennett released a sigh of disappointment at the seeming evaporation of that smooth, creamy lushness.

And then she moved her attention to that trim waist and curvaceous torso. She followed along smooth planes, landing on the outline of those luscious breasts that she knew were hiding beneath the soft, black chemise and matching gray jacket. Pulse hammering in her veins, her eyes turned dark with a hunger that Doris instantly recognized—one that Doris fully intended to satisfy before the night was through.

"Are you just going to keep eye-fucking me in the doorway, or are you going to let me in?" Doris quipped, after allowing Bennett an eyeful of the promises that awaited her.

Laughing, Bennett had the good sense to blush, but only slightly. She stepped aside, welcoming Doris into her home. "Get your gorgeous ass in here, DJ," she playfully commanded, calling the Mayor by the nickname she had given her their first year of law school. Doris had dubbed Bennett "BJ" in return—the "J" stood for "Justice," because they were both studying law. It was ridiculously corny, they both knew; and thus, no one but the two of them had ever known the origins of those nicknames—a fact that had driven Bennett's ex-husband crazy, once upon a time.

Doris offered a sultry look, and stepped over the threshold, the sway of her hips, purposeful. The subtle groan that fell from Bennett's lips, as she watched that sexy temptress move, drew a smirk to Doris's own lips, as she swept past her like a warm summer breeze. The crisp, clean scent of the woman made Bennett's breath catch, leaving her in momentarily dazed.

Casually dropping an inconspicuous tote on the floor just inside the door, Doris paused to remove her shoes before padding barefoot into the elegantly decorated space. The open floor plan gave the room a spacious quality—with the living room, dining area, and kitchen all in full view from the entryway. It looked a bit different, she noted, now that Bennett resided here fulltime. But still, it was beautiful, much like the woman who owned it.

The furniture in the living room was designer, of course, completely in white, and offset by splashes of deep, rich color in the accenting décor. A series of abstract paintings in black, gray, and crimson—separate in space, yet connected in theme—sprawled across the wall above the mantle of the white marble fireplace that served as the focal point of the room. Hand-painted earthen vases with brightly colored flowers adorned two pillared, glass-topped end tables, and a lovely spray of flowers centered a matching coffee table in front of the sofa.

Handmade throw rugs that Bennett had picked up during her travels accented the thickly padded white carpeting, and throw pillows absorbed some of their hues, adding splashes of color to the sofa and chairs. Bennett had exquisite taste, and Doris had always admired that in her; but she had outdone herself with the accouterments she had chosen for her Springfield home.

Depositing a box of chocolate-covered strawberries on the antique English table behind the sofa, she pivoted back toward the door. The strawberries were Bennett's favorite, she knew, especially when dipped in the salty-sweetness of Doris's desire. The mere thought of it made her belly flip-flop, and her clit twitch with excitement. Suddenly, Doris couldn't wait for dessert.

Purposely, she distracted herself, lest she attack the woman right then and there. "Dinner smells fabulous," she complimented. "What's on the menu?"

Regaining her composure, Bennett closed and locked the doors behind them. And then she turned toward Doris, arching a deliberate eyebrow. "You mean other than you?"

Delivered on a husky caress, Doris's breath caught at the sound of Bennett's words and the familiar glint in those smoky gray eyes. Though the formidable mayor hid it well, she had been a nervous wreck all afternoon. The more she contemplated an evening in bed with Bennett, the more anxious she grew. It was different now—Bennett was divorced, Doris had tried to forget for the umpteenth time. Again, she had to force herself not to think too much of that—it was far too dangerous to contemplate what could never be.

By the time she got into her car, she was so worked up she could barely think clearly. And she had almost called to cancel three times on the drive over. It was only a ten minute drive from her place. The corners of her mouth twitched into a partial smile. "Yes, other than me."

"Well, in that case," Bennett grinned. "Garlic and herb crusted rack of lamb with mint and capers, roasted new potatoes, and fresh asparagus with a creamy Hollandaise sauce," she outlined, as she stealthily moved toward Doris.

Doris's heart pounded in her chest as she watched Bennett swaying toward her. She swallowed hard, willfully forcing her body into submission. "Sounds delightful."

Bennett's response was a nod of agreement, though her thoughts were on anything but food. "It's been far too long, DJ," she declared with a sultry smile, as her fingertips lightly brushed across Doris's forearm. Then, stepping into Doris's personal space, she pulled her into a close embrace, their bodies touching at every possible juncture.

Both women sighed at the contact, and Doris felt her body instinctively molding into Bennett's. "Indeed, it has," she agreed, soaking in the familiar scent of the woman in her arms. God, she had missed this. How long had it been since they had been alone like this? Alone, with no worry that someone might walk in on them? It made her sad to realize it had been so long that she actually had to ponder it. And yet, it was she who had been avoiding it since Bennett's divorce. That's how she had ended up dating "the teenager," as those who knew about Jamanda had elected to refer to the young bartender.

The flood of emotions that suffused her as she held Bennett in her arms, threatened to overwhelm. And acknowledging them would force her to acknowledge that she had been lying to herself for years—and that she had unwittingly lied to Ashlee. She had, in fact, been in love once upon a time—with a beautiful young law student named Bennett Thomas.

Knowing she wasn't ready to deal with the truth when her emotions were in such a raw state, Doris willfully tamped them down. Instead, she turned to what they knew best: primal sex.

The subtle, yet purposeful shifting of Doris's hips drew a sharp gasp from Bennett. "Jesus, DJ!" And then she grinned. "Are you packing tonight?" Smoky gray eyes swirling with brazen want, her voice was husky with titillation.

Easily, Doris's mouth found Bennett's ear. "I know how much you love it when I hike my skirt, and fuck you hard," she growled.

Bennett groaned, and pushed Doris against the back of the sofa, grinding her center against the surprise beneath Doris's skirt. She hadn't wanted it to be this way. Not this time. Not at first. No, this time she had wanted to take her time with Doris. To reconnect with her in a way they hadn't in a very long time. But the moment Doris growled in her ear, her body had reacted with wanton lust, and now, whatever surprise Doris had hidden beneath there, it was driving Bennett crazy, and she couldn't wait to feel it inside her.

Never one to allow Bennett keep the upper hand for long, Doris swiftly turned her, pinning her against the back of the sofa, much like she had been pinned, herself. "Remember the time I bent you over your desk," she murmured, nipping at Bennett's ear. "Slid my hands beneath your robe… hiked my skirt…" Her voice was husky with unbridled lust, and she nipped at sensitive skin each time she finished a phrase. "And fucked you from behind?" That final phrase was delivered on a growl, as she thrust her hips harshly against her lovers' groin.

"Oh, God, do I remember!" Bennett exclaimed. Her body instantaneously responded to the memory, her arousal skyrocketing. She could feel the liquid heat pooling between her legs, congesting her aching pussy with raw anticipation.

Doris had texted her that morning so many months ago, telling her how desperately she needed to fuck her. It wasn't something that she admitted often, nor something that she did without reason, and Bennett understood that.

Bennett had returned the text, asking if Doris was all right. But Doris declined to discuss her reasons, and Bennett simply let it slide. That had been their agreement for nearly two decades: no questions, no explanations, no excuses, no expectations—just hot, steamy sex, whenever either of them needed the kind of emotion and sexual release that only they could give to one another. Instead, she excitedly let Doris know that she had a break between cases at two thirty, and that she would be wet and ready—with nothing beneath her robe to impede their plans.

Doris remembered it too. Oh, God, did she ever! The entire day, she had thought about Bennett taking the bench, with nothing between that silky black robe and her sopping wet pussy. It had nearly driven her to distraction—which was exactly what she needed after having made that awful televised speech upon which Alan had insisted.

By the time Olivia arrived in her office, reaming her for exposing her family to ridicule during that press conference, Doris was absolutely beside herself with need. If only Bennett would say such wonderful things about her, as Olivia had said about Natalia, then her life would've been complete. But she hadn't. She never would. And so Doris had assuaged her aching heart with what she knew best: a long, hard fuck with the only woman she had ever loved… and another bittersweet kiss goodbye.

As for Bennett, she had reveled in the smooth sensation of the thick, black fabric of the robe against her skin, growing more excited for Doris's touch with every passing moment. She honestly wasn't certain how she had maintained her composure while in the courtroom that day. But even then, she had longed for so much more with Doris—longed to ask her to slow down, to touch her the way she used to, before…

But she knew she was the reason it couldn't be that way anymore. She had only herself to blame, and that left her feeling empty, eternally alone. It was that grave sense of emptiness, of loss, she had experienced when Doris kissed her goodbye after fucking her to three of the most intense orgasms she had ever experienced, that she realized she couldn't go on living a lie. That weekend, for the first time in months, she had returned to the country estate just to the west of Springfield, where her husband resided the majority of the time, and told him their marriage was over—she wanted a divorce.

"Do you want me to do that now?" Doris offered, pulling Bennett's thoughts back to the present. Lightly, her fingertips traced a hard nipple through the satiny softness of her lover's silk top.

"No," Bennett gasped. "This time, I want to watch you fuck me." And then I want to make love with you, the way we used to... before I threw us away.

A brazenly desirous smirk hijacked Doris's lips. It would be her extreme pleasure to give Bennett exactly what she wanted. She loved watching all the fluxes of passion play across Bennett's beautiful face as she fucked her to completion. It was one of the most erotic sights Doris had ever witnessed. And it hadn't grown old with time.

Wedging a skillful hand between their bodies as her mouth claimed Bennett's in a fiery kiss, Doris managed to release the buttons on Bennett's top while simultaneously ridding her of her bottoms. She was beyond pleased to find nothing other than Bennett's burning flesh beneath either piece of fabric.

Instantly, her hands went to Bennett's breasts. God how she loved them! They fit perfectly in the palms of her hands, as she worked them; caressing, squeezing, taunting nipples that were already rock hard with arousal, as her tongue thrust deeply into Bennett's hot mouth. She could only imagine what that arousal would feel like in other parts of Bennett's body. She wouldn't have to wait very long to match imagination to reality.

Desperate to be closer to her, to feel Doris's skin against her own, Bennett simultaneously shoved Doris's jacket from her shoulders, dropping it to the floor, and quickly rid her of her chemise, as well. And then, as Doris's hands busied themselves with a pair of firm breasts, Bennett slid her hands beneath the fabric of Doris's skirt, forcing it to ride upward.

The taut muscles in Doris's firm, toned ass twitched and flexed in Bennett's hands as she caressed and squeezed the warm, smooth flesh. And then she groaned into Doris's mouth, as she slid her hand along the length of the thick, rigid phallus that hung slack between Doris's legs. She could tell by the texture and size that it was the one they both enjoyed—she grew rock hard just thinking about Doris burying that thick cock deep inside her. And as her clit twitched with excitement, she felt herself grow increasingly wetter.

She simply could not wait much longer. Deliberately, she slid her hands along smooth flesh, and her fingers made quick work of the straps on the harness that rode against svelte hips, tightening them. She knew that Doris always left them slack until she was ready for action. It was easier to pack unnoticed that way.

By the time the harness was secure, Doris's mouth was on Bennett's breast, and her fingers were gliding through the fount of wetness between Bennett's legs, reveling… teasing. "Jesus Christ, you're wet, BJ," she growled, as she firmly bit the taut flesh along Bennett's neck and shoulder. And then she claimed Bennett's mouth again.

A cavernous groan emerged from deep within Bennett's chest, as she pressed her center against Doris's skillful fingers. "I've been thinking about you all day," she husked into Doris's mouth. "Thinking about how much I want you inside me."

"Oh, have you?" Doris purred. Lightly, she bit Bennett's bottom lip, as she squeezed the base of Bennett's hard clit between her thumb and forefinger. Bennett cried out in pleasure. And then Doris soothed with gentle strokes of her tongue and fingertips.

"Yes…" Bennett hissed.

Doris's dark blue eyes flashed with lust. "Then I shouldn't keep you waiting."

Bennett growled out a laugh, her eyes turning black with want. "No, you shouldn't."

A roguish grin playing on her lips, Doris spread Bennett's legs, and then she grasped the underside of toned thighs, as mouths collided in a passionate kiss, tongues exploring. Bennett gasped, her legs wrapping around Doris's waist, as Doris hoisted her lover up onto the antique English table behind the sofa. The surface was cold against Bennett's bare ass, drawing a shocked squeak from her lips, as her hips jerked, causing her hot center to press hard against Doris's crotch.

They laughed into their kiss, and Doris murmured against Bennett's mouth saying something about making her body respond like that all night long.

Burning with need, Bennett begged her to make it happen—and soon!

Spurred on by Bennett's comments, Doris quickly sought to fulfill her request. One arm braced against the small of Bennett's back, Doris used her other hand to grasp the thick phallus that now stood taut between her legs. Deftly, she slid the broad tip through Bennett's slick, wet folds, exploring, teasing Bennett's engorged clitoris. It felt almost as intoxicating as Doris's tongue when she licked her in that exact same pattern.

A sharp gasp tumbled from Bennett's lips into Doris's mouth, as her clit throbbed and her nipples tightened against the lacy fabric of Doris's black bra. She groaned into Doris's mouth as a skillful tongue caressed her own in perfect rhythm with the light teasing between her legs. Purposefully, she shifted her hips forward, attempting to guide the tip where she wanted it.

Doris chuckled, and playfully called her an "eager beaver;" an accusation to which Bennett readily conceded.

As Doris teased her with words, she also teased with actions, just dipping the thick tip of the cock into Bennett's waiting warmth. Jiggling it just slightly, she earned a groan of pleasure, and then she quickly withdrew, only to return and tease a little more aggressively.

Their mouths still fused in fiery kiss, unoccupied fingers tweaked a taut nipple, as Doris continued to tease—dipping the tip just inside, and then gliding it through her hot, wet folds to torment that beautiful, engorged clitoris, and then returning to tease her opening again.

When Doris drew Bennett's tongue into her mouth, lightly suckling as she jiggled the tip of the cock just inside her once again, Bennett's hips jerked forward, and she howled with pleasure. And then she was begging to be fucked.

Doris was eager to oblige.

Kissing her one more time, their eyes locked, as Doris's fingertips lightly brushed Bennett's lips. It was an intensely intimate gesture, given the nature of their current entanglement, and Bennett released a soft sigh at the sweet familiarity of it. And then, reluctantly, Doris was willfully separating their bodies so that Bennett could watch the way she had wanted.

Leaning back, Bennett willingly spread herself wide open to Doris, as she braced her hands on the table behind her, preparing herself to accept what Doris had to offer. And then curling her fingers around the back edge, her dark eyes wordlessly conveyed to her lover exactly what she wanted.

Doris smiled at her, and Bennett's eyes followed her as she lightly trailed her fingertips from Bennett's lips, along the slope of her graceful neck, down onto her chest. She moaned as they lightly brushed taut nipples, causing them to tingle. And then those fingertips fluttered across her belly, and into the thick thatch of jet-black curls between her legs. They were glistening with the dew of Bennett's raging desire, and Doris felt her own body react, once again. She couldn't wait bury her face in them. But first, Bennett needed something else.

Wanting nothing more than to give her lover everything she needed, Doris grasped the shaft in her right hand, as the fingers of her left hand gently spread Bennett open to her once again. Rock hard and protruding from her outer lips, Bennett's beautiful dark clitoris was jerking and pulsing with need. Lightly, Doris stroked it again between her thumb and forefinger, drawing a guttural moan from her lover. And then she thrust against it with the tip of the shaft, before guiding it deeper.

Effortlessly, the tip sliced through Bennett's hot, silky folds, finding its way toward her waiting warmth. It was thick, and flesh-like, and it felt so damned good. God, she was so ready! Her dark eyes widened as she watched Doris move against her with such measured precision—she always knew exactly what Bennett needed. And then she was inside her, and two sets of lungs released sharp gasps of pleasure.

It always excited Doris to watch that thick shaft effortlessly disappear into the heat of Bennett's sopping wet pussy. But this time, the pleasure was all the sweeter. Though she didn't quite know why, she didn't pause to ponder it. She simply enjoyed it for what it was; reveling in the growl that Bennett emitted as her body effortlessly welcomed the full length and girth of her.

Bennett felt the walls of her pussy stretching to accommodate the thickness of Doris's tumescence as Doris filled her, and she growled out her appreciation of the pleasurable tension. Her pussy throbbed with anticipation, and she grasped the back edge of the table even tighter.

Doris noted Bennett's readiness. And then, with her hands firmly grasping Bennett's ass, she began a slow, torturous thrust. At first, she slid in deeply, reveling in the tightness of Bennett's pussy as it hugged her cock. And then she increased her speed, swiftly sluicing through the wet and the heat, before angling her hips to ensure she would reach the place she knew would drive Bennett to distraction. Then slowly, she withdrew, almost to the point of pulling completely out, even as her fingertips stroked Bennett's swollen clitoris. That dual stimulation drove Bennett crazy too, she knew.

True to form, as Bennett watched Doris thrusting deep inside her, her arousal heightened almost to the point of frenzy. Her breathing swiftly turned harsh, demanding, as her voice, almost in a strangled whisper, issued a string of encouragements to her lover. "Oh, God, yes! Right there, DJ. Oh… Oh, Jesus… Oh! Oh, yeah… Right there… Ohhh, Fuck! Harder, DJ… Fuck me harder… Oh, Faster… Oh, fuck, yes!" she exclaimed, as her fingernails dug firmly into the tender flesh of Doris's back.

And the quickening of her breath, the wanton need in her voice, ignited the passion that burned deep within Doris, and her thrusts took on an urgency she hadn't anticipated. Soon, she couldn't get close enough to the other woman. Wrapping her arms firmly around her lover, Doris claimed her mouth in another deep, searching kiss, as she pulled her impossibly closer. Every thrust of her hips drew an answering gasp and moan from Bennett's lips, spurring Doris on.

Doris was rock hard, and sopping wet, and in urgent need of her own release. With every thrust the table shook beneath Bennett's ass, and the granite statues that graced the table rattled against its cool surface. And then Bennett's words ceased, giving way to communication of another form, and the only sounds in the room were the rattling of knickknacks, the mingling of their rapid breath, and the unmistakable timbre of friction, as Doris pounded against Bennett's center. And the base of the shaft slammed rhythmically against Doris's throbbing clit, bringing her closer and closer to the edge, as she fucked Bennett toward completion.

Finally, Doris felt the teasing tentacles of release grasp her firmly in their clutches, and her own body began to shudder as she felt Bennett's orgasm take hold; her body clamping tightly around the shaft that was buried deep inside her.

Her fingertips tangled in Doris's soft brunette locks, Bennett's hips writhed and jerked, and she cried out her pleasure as she came in wave after wave of heart-pounding release. Wrapping her legs firmly around Doris's waist, she held her tightly inside. And the base of the cock pressed hard against Doris's own quivering clitoris, heightening the pleasure of their mutual orgasm, as Doris clung tightly against her lover's body.

Moments passed, and then Doris tucked a hand between their bodies, deftly pushing a button that ignited the most delightful vibrations. And then, swiftly and thoroughly, she fucked them both to another shattering orgasm.

Breasts heaved as lungs gasped, and even as their sweat-soaked bodies reached a secondary crescendo, both of them exploding in waves of blissful release, earth met sky, their gazes locking. And finally, time stood still as their breathing slowly relaxed, and their kisses turned tender, meaningful, in a way it hadn't been in a very long time.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009… Detective Sargent Langston Malloy's Residence—7:15 p.m. Central Daylight Time

Having changed into her favorite pair of cut-off jeans and a faded police academy t-shirt after arriving home from a long, frustrating shift, Detective Sargent Langston Malloy sank down into the worn cushions of her old gray sofa, kicking her bare feet up onto a battered wooden coffee table. A warm summer breeze blew in through the sliding glass door that led out onto her second floor balcony. It rustled the sheer white curtains that draped across the open door, and teased the leaves of the potted lemon tree that sat near the doorway where it could catch some rays in the afternoon sun.

Relaxing, she thoughtfully regarded her apartment, those clear blue eyes slowly perusing her chosen décor. It was mostly new—purchased since her move to Springfield three years ago. And it was simple, in a casual, non-complicated sort of way, much like the woman herself. At least when she wasn't on the job. Her place wasn't much, she thought, but it was home, and she felt more comfortable there than she had anywhere else in years.

A self-proclaimed beer snob, she tipped her bottle of Fürsten Trunk, savoring the icy cold liquid as it slid down her parched throat, as she silently contemplated her life. At thirty-five, she was well-established in her career, and overall, she was quite satisfied with her professional trajectory. She had long-since earned her bachelor's in forensic psychology and a master's in criminology, and she had thirteen years' experience on the force—the first ten of which had been served with the Chicago Police Department.

But life circumstances had unexpectedly dictated a change, and she had walked away from her tenure—and from her life in Chicago. And when she moved to Springfield, she left nothing in her wake but a series of disastrous relationships, and the bittersweet memory of the one person who meant more to her than anyone else in the world.

With the weight of those memories at her back, she had thrown herself into her work from the moment she joined the Springfield PD, and she had worked her way up from a level two Detective to Detective Sargent, in record time. She had her eyes set on Detective Lieutenant in the future, and perhaps Chief of Detectives one day, if Chief Cooper ever became Chief of Police.

But for now, she had a case to solve… and she had to admit, this one had her confounded.

Setting the half-empty bottle on the side table, she silently cursed herself for not ordering another case before this one ran out. It was her last bottle of the exclusive Bavarian brew, and it wasn't stocked in any local liquor store. Thus, she had to order it from the Blarney Stone Pub near Chicago—one of her old haunts. Even if she reordered right then, it would take them the better part of a week to get another case to her.

Muttering under her breath, she grabbed the file from the case that had her baffled: Antoinette Martin's alleged sexual assault. She worked at home a lot, though not usually after such a long day. But this case was weighing on her in a way that no other case had in ages, and she just simply could not let it go.

The glow from two simple floor lamps and the flickering luminosity of the television screen lit the room just enough for her to work, and she flipped file open in her lap, meticulously scanning the contents for the umpteenth time.

As she poured over the sparse contents, she tucked a lock of dark hair behind her right ear, and released another long, frustrated sigh. The "evidence" was non-existent. And the "facts" were as clear as mud. All they had was an allegation of an event that supposedly happened at a random kegger, six years ago, and of course, not a stitch of forensic evidence to back up the story. The accuser's named seemed oddly familiar to her, but she couldn't for the life of her explain why. And the accused, by all accounts, seemed innocuous—an ambitious young woman in a stable, long-term relationship, raising two seemingly well-adjusted young boys. None of it made any sense.

Was the timing with the child custody case merely a coincidence? Her gut instinct told her no. People had been known to do far worse under the guise of "protecting" their children from a former spouse or in-law. But she had no proof of a connection between the finance mogul Preston Morgan, and the young woman who had made the accusations of sexual assault. Baffling…

Langston's cell phone rang, yanking her from her thoughts. She glanced at the caller ID, and despite her mounting frustration with the case, she found it impossible to rein in the smile that teased at the corners of her soft lips. "Hey, Gwen," she greeted after hitting the call button. Tilting her head, she tucked the cell between her shoulder and her ear, so that her hands were free to straighten the file contents. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to say thank you for jumping on the Morgan case today," Gwen Matthews said appreciatively. "I know you have a backlog of cases on your desk."

"I do, but with Judge Thomas up your ass, I couldn't just let this one slide," Langston said. "You know how those judicial types get when they feel ignored."

Gwen could hear the grin on Langston's face. "Indeed, I do," she laughed. "Anyway, I appreciate it."

"It's no problem," Langston assured. She paused for a beat, contemplating. And then she decidedly closed the file, extending Gwen an offer. "Dinner?"

Gwen smiled. She'd been hoping for that. "Pizza?" she suggested.

"Sounds perfect."

"Great," Gwen declared. "Open the door."

A look of surprised delight flashed across Langston's face, catching her rather off guard. But before could respond, there was a knock at her door. She grinned, and hung up her cell without a word, as she rose from the sofa and quickly moved across the room to answer.

It wasn't uncommon for the two of them to share an impromptu dinner; especially after working a case together during the day. But they usually ended up at Company for appetizers and drinks right after work. As such, Gwen's presence at Langston's apartment was a relatively rare occurrence. But Langston found that she didn't mind the unexpected visitor. She was just grateful her non-existent social life had left her plenty to time to clean the place over the weekend.

The moment the words were out of her mouth, Gwen was second-guessing the wisdom in just showing up at Langston's door. And when the door opened, her face wore a sheepish expression. "I hope this is okay." The hesitancy in her tone begged the question.

"You brought me food," Langston said, dramatically feigning near starvation. "It's perfectly okay."

Gwen laughed at the detective's uncharacteristically animated behavior, and held out the pizza box. From beneath it, she also lifted a six-pack. "And beer," she said, sweetening the deal.

Langston glanced at the label, and recognizing another of her favorite German brews, she arched an eyebrow. "Not just any beer. Spaten Optimator," she noted, sounding rather impressed. "You're a woman after my own heart, Gwen Matthews," she lightheartedly declared, as she took the pizza and stepped aside. "Please, come in."

Feeling the twin pangs of excitement and dread warring inside her, Gwen simultaneously sensed the sudden warmth of a full-on blush color her face, as she crossed the threshold into Langston's living room. Which was more pathetic, she wondered. The fact that her palms were sweating—or that her heart was pounding faster than a jackhammer?

Closing the door behind Gwen, Langston turned, offering her a seat. The curve of Gwen's hips in those faded jeans and the way her blue tank top molded to the camber of her breasts, weren't lost on Langston, as she watched Gwen move toward the sofa.

In the same vein, Gwen's nervousness was eclipsed only by the unanticipated surge of arousal that hit her as she spied the sway of Langston's shapely ass in those spectacularly well-fitting cut-offs she had donned after work. Settling on the sofa, she watched Langston's every move, as Langston sauntered across the living room, entering the kitchen, where she grabbed a roll of paper towels from the counter top, and two plates from the cabinet to the right of the double-sided stainless steel sink.

Upon Langston's return to the living room, she settled on the sofa across from Gwen, and scooped a piece of the thick Chicago-style pizza from the box. The aroma was positively arresting, but it held nothing on the gustatory experience that awaited her. She took a huge bite, moaning out her pleasure as the flavors of tangy tomatoes, oregano and sweet basil, Italian sausage, green peppers, and rich mozzarella blended together, assaulting her taste buds in a most delectable way. "Oh, my God, this is delightful," she praised. "Thank you! I didn't realize how hungry I was until just now."

Gwen knew that Chicago-style was Langston's favorite, and she beamed internally at the expression of sheer bliss on Langston's face as she savored the amalgamation of flavors. "You're welcome," she smiled, feeling pleased with the reward for her efforts. "I owe you at least this much after today." She knew any perceived lack of response to Judge Thomas's direct order would bode poorly for her, professionally, and thus, she was beyond grateful for Langston's quick and solid response to the situation.

Lifting a bottle from the six-pack, Langston motioned toward Gwen, silently offering the refreshment, as she continued their conversation. "Speaking of, did you get anything else outta Judge Thomas this afternoon?"

Gwen smiled around a mouthful of pizza, and nodded.

Instinctively, Langston knew that the nod was affirmation of both the receipt of additional information, and Gwen's desire for a beer. In what appeared to be one fluid motion, she grabbed the bottle opener from the coffee table where she always left it, popped the top, dropped the opener and cap onto the table, and handed Gwen the beer.

Impressed, Gwen nodded and thanked her. And then, with one leg tucked up underneath her, she purposefully angled her body in such a way that she could make frequent eye contact with Langston without seeming awkward.

Completely aware of the strategic positioning, Langston didn't seem to mind in the least. She leaned back against a sofa arm, her casual demeanor easing Gwen's tension, and they settled into a comfortable presence, eating as they talked through the case.

"Off the record," Gwen qualified, pausing to take a drink of the beer to wash the bite of pizza down.

It wasn't a question, but Langston nodded her acquiescence anyway. She reached for her half-empty bottle of Fürsten Trunk, as she awaited Gwen's next statement. The content of it could change her entire perspective on this case.

"The judge thinks these charges are bullshit," Gwen said forthrightly, as she set her bottle back on the table. "But she can't intervene without compromising her position, and she doesn't want to risk the chance of the case being reassigned to that homophobic asshole, Carson," she explained, referencing the other family court judge.

"Yeah, something just doesn't set right with this," Langston noted with a sigh.

"I agree," Gwen replied.

"So what am I missing here?" Langston wondered aloud.

"What are we all missing?" Gwen countered, emphasizing the corporate nature of their oversight.

"What, indeed," Langston pondered. The conversation continued along that same vein as they finished their dinner, and extended long into the evening, as they attempted to put the mismatched pieces of this perplexing puzzle into some semblance of order.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009… Interrogation Room, Springfield Police Department—7:30 p.m. Central Daylight Time

After hearing Tracy's story from beginning to end, Dani had declined to allow Detective Sargent Malloy to question her; much to the detective's frustration. There were just too many unanswered questions, and she needed to buy time to parse out the truth from the discrepancies. Sadly, she was no longer certain that her client was innocent.

Worse yet, Tracy could no longer say she certain either. As she took Dani back to that party, she remembered fragments of a night filled with loud, pulsing music that shook the walls of the frat house, the crowding of sweaty bodies, and an abundance of alcohol and drugs. She hadn't touched the drugs. She was certain of that. But the alcohol was another story; though it hadn't been purposeful. She had consumed the punch, and realized too late that it had been spiked—presumably with vodka. And she remembered feeling glad that she hadn't had too much of it. But now she was wondering how accurate her self-assessment had been at the time, given that she was under the influence.

Frustrated, Dani sighed. "Okay, there's nothing else we can do at this point," she said. "Let's get you out of here."

Exhausted, Tracy released a weary sigh. "You won't get an argument from me."

Dani nodded. "I'll be back in a few minutes." And then, gathering her things, she politely excused herself from the room.

The heavy metal door slammed shut, and then the lock clicked and bolted. Momentarily, Tracy focused on the sound of Dani's heels echoing against the concrete walls as she walked down the hallway. And once they faded into silence, she was once again left alone with her thoughts. This time, they were far heavier than before.

Propping her elbows on the table, Tracy buried her face in her hands. Toni…

If her accuser had been anyone other than Toni, on any other night of her life, she could be absolutely certain of her own innocence. But not that night. And not with that girl. What if she'd had more of that spiked punch than she realized? She didn't think so. But she couldn't be certain. Not after all this time. What if there were things she didn't remember?

What if…

TBC in Chapter 14.12…