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 Wolfe, Phillip Spaulding, and Beth Raines are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. The characters of Jennifer Morgan, Tracy Jackson, Bennett Thomas, Langston Malloy, Gwen Matthews, Preston Morgan, and Mr. Parsons are the property of this author, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No copyright infringement intended with regard to Guiding Light, CBS/TeleNext, Proctor & Gamble, or any other entity. The dialogue, settings, and story content in these scenes are original. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.
Thank you to all who continued to read and comment. I'll be back, hopefully later this evening, to thank each of you personally for your comments, but I want you all to know how very much you are appreciated. And always, thank you to my pal, MoniRod for the edit. You totally Rock, Woman! I appreciate you, and I owe you—BIG TIME!
Rating: Chapter 14 is rated NC-17 for some sexual situations and strong language.
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 14.13 – Trials and Tribulations:
Wednesday, June 17, 2009… Bennett Thomas's Residence—9:30 p.m. Central Daylight Time
"Do you have the case file with you?" Doris leaned forward, refilling her wine glass. Tipping the bottle toward Bennett, she wordlessly offered to refill hers, as well.
Bennett nodded affirmatively to the wine, as she offered an audible response to the verbal question. "File's in my briefcase. I'll get it."
Doris smirked as she watched Bennett raise her naked form from the sofa. "Could you also get a robe or something?" she suggested. "You can't expect me to think clearly with you sitting her naked."
Laughing, Bennett agreed. "I'll get one for you, as well. I'm not exactly immune to your nakedness either."
"Touché," Doris replied with a grin. Her body hummed like a finely tuned motor as she watched Bennett disappear down the hallway toward her bedroom. And she turned her attention to her lover's nearly empty wine glass, filling it with the remaining contents of the bottle.
When Bennett returned to the living room, case file and laptop in hand, she could feel the intensity of Doris's gaze, probing her body through the burgundy robe she was wearing, as she set them down on the coffee table. The robe was silk, a perfect match to the lounge wear Doris had rid her of earlier, and Bennett reveled in the lustful gaze being projected toward her, as her own intense gaze lingered over Doris's nakedness. Her mind was on anything but business, and she knew she needed to do something about that—quickly. "Here, put this on," she said, extending a royal blue satin robe toward her lover.
Doris simply smirked, and handed her the wine, accepting the robe in exchange.
Bennett's eyes darkened with desire, as she watched Doris shrug into the garment, tying the sash, but loosely enough to allow Bennett a few well-positioned peepholes.
That maneuver wasn't lost on the judge, as they settled back onto the sofa, each of them tucking one leg up underneath, and draping the other over the side of the sofa. Shaking her head, Bennett chuckled inwardly as she opened the file folder, spreading it out on the cushion between them.
"I've been over this thing a dozen times, and I just can't find the connection," she noted, as she contemplated the inch-thick file.
"Why don't we take a fresh approach," Doris suggested. "You start at the back of the file, and I'll start at the front, and we'll meet in the middle to compare notes."
"Sounds like a plan," Bennett willingly agreed.
They settled in then, the laptop humming between them, file contents, pens, and legal pads in hand, and began meticulously combing through the facts like they had so many times when writing up cases for mock trial in law school. Each of them strong litigators in her own right, their combined passion and drive had proven to be an unbeatable team, snatching the win in every case they took before the panel of judges at both competition and for in-class trials. And their private celebrations afterward had surpassed any jubilation either had ever experienced in the past, or since. Silently, they each wondered if that would be the case tonight.
Pages crinkled and pens scribbled, keys tapped on the keyboard. The occasional sigh of frustration could be heard just barely above the mix of classical music that floated along the airwaves. Glasses of wine were consumed, and then coffee began to flow like water, as the hours passed with them working side by side, in companionable silence.
Finally, stealing a glance at Bennett, Doris grinned mischievously. "We'd better come up with something soon here, BJ. We've been at this for hours, and I recall you promising me more pleasure than business."
Bennett laughed heartily. And then she set her half of the file on the coffee table, and slowly crept across the sofa toward Doris.
The stealthy movement made Doris's pulse hammer.
"Did you need a little incentive to keep going, Darling?" Bennett murmured; her breath hot against Doris's ear, as her fingertips easily found a nipple, teasing it through the silky fabric. She reveled in the sensation of that nipple pebbling beneath her touch.
"You keep doing that, and I'll be too turned on to work anymore," Doris said in a warning tone.
"Well, now that would just be such a shame," Bennett replied facetiously. Lightly, her mouth grazed the spot where Doris's pulse raced in her neck, and then she bit into tender flesh, marking Doris as her own.
Doris winced at the convergence of pleasure and pain. Acting upon sheer instinct, she grabbed Bennett's face in her hands, kissing her, hard.
Bennett groaned into the kiss, their mouths opening to one another, as she pushed the papers from Doris's lap, and straddled those toned thighs. Her fingertips weaved through soft brunette waves, tangling, as she deepened the kiss.
Brazenly, Doris's hands slipped beneath the fabric of Bennett's robe, seeking and finding shapely breasts. Cupping them in her palms, she massaged them in perfect rhythm with the probing of Bennett's tongue against her own. And when her fingernails scraped deliberately against the underside of rock-hard nipples, Bennett nearly came undone.
Laughing into their kiss, Doris murmured something about the inefficacy of Bennett's incentive plan, and Bennett smiled against her lover's mouth. And then she lifted her mouth from Doris's, earning a grunt of protest in response.
"Uh, uh, uh," Bennett tsk'd, as she separated their bodies, and closed her robe. "That was just a preview of things to come… if you finish your task."
Doris arched an eyebrow.
"And I really hope you finish it soon, Darling," Bennett continued, her pulse pounding in her nipples and elsewhere. "Because I really need you to fuck me again."
Her breath caught in her chest as she witnessed the wave of desire that flickered across Doris's face, reflecting in her darkening blue eyes.
And I really need to make love to you, Doris thought. God, I miss you. The depth of her need took her by surprise, and the softness, the warmth in Bennett's gaze told her she needed that connection too. Leaning in, she pressed a light kiss to Bennett's lips. "Let's switch ends then, and see what we've missed."
A salacious smirk tripped across Bennett's lips. "I can assure you, no matter which end we've been on, we've never missed a thing."
Doris heard a low whimper slip through her lips, as her belly tightened with arousal. "I can't argue with that," she admitted. "But… I was talking about the file."
"Oh, were you?" Bennett said flirtingly, feigning ignorance of Doris's true intention.
Shaking her head, Doris laughed, and slapped Bennett's ass. "Yes, I was. Now pick up the papers you threw all over the floor, and let's get back to work. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can get started on that bag of toys over there."
Bennett felt the pangs of renewed arousal stirring deep within her body. She loved it when Doris got bossy—especially when it came to sex. "Yes, Mayor Wolfe," she murmured as she kissed her lover again. "Whatever you say…"
Wednesday, June 17, 2009… Penthouse Suite, the Beacon—9:45 p.m. Central Daylight Time
After Tracy shared the identity of her mystery visitor, and noises of surprise and piqued curiosity were heard all around, Olivia suggested that they all adjourn to the sitting room to wait. It was more comfortable in there, she pointed out, and perhaps they could all relax a bit before the visitor's arrival.
Exhausted from the stress of the day, everyone readily agreed.
Entering the room, Natalia offered to prepare drinks for the group. Tracy declined, indicating that she would pour a glass of water for herself. Olivia and Jen requested coffee, and Natalia set about making a fresh pot.
Thanking her, Olivia dropped down onto the sofa across from Jen and Tracy, and leaned forward, casually resting her forearms, mid-thigh. "Listen, Tracy," she said gently, as she clasped her hands together between jean-clad knees. "I've never told you this before… mostly because it wasn't really relevant to our friendship, but… I think it might help you now."
Offering a curious expression in response, Tracy nodded. "I'm listening. What is it?"
"Though our experiences were quite different, I know what it's like to second-guess yourself," Olivia shared. "Especially after an evening of spiked drinks at a party."
Jen and Tracy both looked surprised. Tracy leaned forward, squarely meeting Olivia's gaze. "What happened in your situation?"
Slipping down onto the sofa next to Olivia, Natalia placed a gentle hand on Olivia's thigh—a show of comfort and support.
Olivia offered a slight smile in response, and then she took a deep breath, steeling herself for the onslaught of emotions she knew would follow. "When I was sixteen," she began, almost tentatively. "I…"
She went on then, to tell Tracy her story—the story of that party at the palace in San Cristobal, that night with Jeffrey, and about Ava's parentage. But mostly, she focused on the feelings of guilt and shame, the self-blame and uncertainty, associated with being under the influence, and not remembering one's own actions—or how much one was to blame for events that transpired as a result.
With tears in her eyes as Olivia finished the story, Tracy reached across the coffee table, grasping Olivia's hand. "I'm so sorry that happened to you, Olivia," she said with quiet empathy. "I can't even imagine your pain."
"I'm glad that you can't," Olivia said forthrightly. "I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."
"Maybe I need to, Olivia," Tracy said with quiet conviction.
"Why?" Jen sounded surprised, and perhaps a little scared. It was so hard to listen to Tracy willfully inflicting such pain upon herself.
Craning her neck, Tracy met Jen's fearful gaze with her own tear-filled one. "Because that might be how Toni is feeling."
Delivered on a strangled whisper, Tracy's words were laced with pain and sorrow. The expression in her dark eyes nearly broke Jen's heart. It was so like Tracy to be concerned for the other person, despite the impact a situation might have on her personally. Her heart swelled with love for this tenderhearted woman, and she reached for Tracy, drawing her into her arms.
Tracy went willingly, resting her head against Jen's shoulder. Instinctively, her arm draped around Jen's waist, as she settled against fiancée's body.
"Please, Honey," Jen murmured between tender kisses against Tracy's temple. "Don't do this to yourself. Don't tear yourself up over something we all know you didn't do."
"I can't help it, Cara," Tracy barely managed. "I don't know that I didn't do it. And I don't know that I'll ever know."
Natalia's heart ached for both women, as she listened to the obvious pain in their voices. "I've never been one to blame the victim, Tracy. Or to not believe a woman who says she's been assaulted or raped. But you told us yourself, she was all over you. Not the other way around," she gently reminded.
"Exactly," Olivia readily agreed. "If something really did happen that night—and that's a really big if, as far as I'm concerned," she qualified. "Then I would be more inclined to believe that it was a mutual encounter, and now, for some reason, she's having some sort of buyer's remorse."
Tracy released a caustic laugh. "I can't tell you how often I've gotten pissed off at people who say that about rape victims."
"And this time?" Olivia asked, her gaze intent.
"This time…" Tracy sighed wearily. "All I can do is pray that it's true."
Wednesday, June 17, 2009… Detective Sargent Langston Malloy's Residence—10:00 p.m. Central Daylight Time
"I need you to meet me at 4040 Treviso Drive, apartment B. Right now."
Issued on a bark, Danika Kováč's unyielding directive sliced through the line like the teeth of a rabid Doberman, piercing Detective Sargent Langston Malloy's ear. Langston and Gwen were buried in the case file, combing through every last detail with marked precision, and the ringing of her cell phone had drawn them out of their zone.
"Excuse me?" Langston said, sounding more annoyed by the intrusion than the bitter sound of Danika's command. She couldn't believe the woman had the nerve to call her this late at night—and at home, no less! Especially after refusing to let her question a suspect. An ugly, heated argument had followed Dani's declaration at the precinct earlier, and much to Langston's chagrin, Dani had walked away the victor.
"You heard me, Malloy," Dani snapped. She didn't bother to repeat herself. "It's in the Huntington Ridge…"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Langston muttered dismissively, as she glanced at Gwen over the rim of her coffee mug. They had switched from alcohol to caffeine after the second beer, intent on focusing on the task at hand. "And just exactly why should I agree to this?"
"Because I have a witness here who can clear up this entire mess," Dani said with an air of superiority.
"Well, why the fuck didn't you just say so, Kováč?" Langston barked.
"Pretty sure I just did," Dani growled in return. "Now I suggest you get your ass over here."
"I'm on my way," Langston replied without another moment's hesitation. She was already on her feet, heading toward her bedroom to change, as she snapped the phone closed, not even bothering to say goodbye.
"What was that all about?" Gwen called after her. She sounded curious. It wasn't like Langston to be so sharp with anyone.
"Potential witness," Langston answered, as she pulled her academy t-shirt over her head, halfway down the hall.
Gwen felt her belly tighten in response to the flash of skin that was exposed by Langston's unintentional strip tease. Briefly, she wondered what was wrong with her. Yes, she had a history of attraction to women. But no woman had ever affected her the way that Langston Malloy did. And that was more than a little unnerving to her. But not unnerving enough to dissuade her from seeking out the woman's company.
"Ride along?" Langston called from the bedroom, snapping Gwen out of her wayward thoughts. The invite was partially because Gwen was involved in the case. But mostly, it was because she didn't want their time together to end. The knowledge of that was both exciting… and a little frightening to her.
"Absolutely," Gwen answered, pleased with the prospect of having more time with the sexy dark-haired detective. She quickly began gathering the file contents, and clearing away their mess from dinner.
When Langston returned to the living room, dressed in a dark gray silk shirt, with her gun securely holstered beneath her left arm, and her badge clipped to the leather belt around the waist of a pair of black silk-blend trousers that shaped perfectly to curve of her ass, Gwen had to forcefully stifle a groan. And when the detective slipped into a pair of Doc Martens and a matching suit jacket at the door, Gwen practically came unhinged.
She wondered briefly what the woman had looked like as a rookie in her uniform—and then unbidden, yet not unwanted, a thought flashed through her mind about what she looked like with nothing on at all. Her face flushed in response, and she hoped that Langston was too focused on her job to notice.
"Gwen?"
The questioning tone of Langston's voice tore Gwen from her musings, bringing her back into the real world. "Huh?"
Leaning casually against the doorframe, Langston raked long, lithe fingers through her jet-black collar-length hair, completely unaware of how appealing she looked in that moment. "I asked if you were ready to go," she laughed.
"Oh, yes. Sorry," Gwen answered ruefully. Tearing her eyes away from the sexy detective, she grabbed her handbag, as she felt her face flush again. But this time, it didn't matter. Langston had already killed the lights, allowing the glow from the hallway to illuminate the room enough for her to find her way to the door.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009… Farley's Bar & Grill—10:15 p.m. Central Daylight Time
"What do you have for me?"
Phillip Spaulding's voice was deliberately muffled as he leaned across the rickety wooden table in the back room of the little dive bar on South Fifth Street. He had chosen the bar because no one would ever expect to find him there—it was Ladies Night, after all. And not the kind of ladies he would be inclined to chase, even if he weren't actively pursuing Beth again.
Brazenly, he stared down the nervous gaze of a rather seedy-looking individual in the chair directly across from him. The black pinstriped fedora the man donned was the most distinguished thing about him; and even that did little to bolster his image, given the nondescript gray suit and tattered black shoes he was wearing.
But Phillip didn't pay him to look good—he paid him to get information. And fast. Which more often than not meant by less than above-board means. The guy was like a chameleon, a shape-shifter, perhaps. He could ease in and out of all sorts of situations, fitting right in without raising suspicion. Which was why he was dressed like a weary traveling salesman, at present—haggard looking, no one paid him any mind when he wandered, seemingly haplessly, into a bar full of lesbians on the prowl. He simply looked like he needed a drink, and this was the first bar he stumbled across.
More importantly, the guy knew how to dig behind the scenes without being noticed. And he had been doing exactly that since the moment Phillip called him nearly twelve hours prior. Phillip had been beyond pleased to hear the man had something for him so soon, and if it panned out, he would have more than earned his pay. Making immediate plans for them to meet, Phillip raced across town to the little hole in the wall, where no one would likely recognize him.
Sharp black eyes shifted with nervous excitement. "You're not gonna believe the money trail on this one, Boss." He glanced around the room, as if leery of intruders. "It's bigger than the time we caught your father…"
Raising a hand, Phillip motioned for the mindless chatter to stop. "I don't need a trip down memory lane, Parsons. I need to know how Morgan is connected this mess."
"Well, Sir," Jones cleared his throat and gulped, nervously. "In a roundabout way, it all traces back to you…"
Wednesday, June 17, 2009… Residence of Potential Defense Witness, Huntington Ridge Apartments—10:30 p.m. Central Daylight Time
Fifteen minutes later, Langston and Gwen pulled up to the Huntington Ridge Apartment complex, finding Danika waiting for them at the outer door of the building that housed apartment B. The greeting exchanged by Langston and Dani was terse, as far as pleasantries went, and Gwen felt an odd sense of unease settle deep in her chest, as she watched them interact.
"How do I know you didn't tamper with this witness?" Langston's voice held an accusatory tone, and Dani's dark eyes turned cold with anger.
"Oh, come on, Lang," she snapped. Her ire made her forget they were on the job, and the familiar form of the detective's name slipped from her lips, unbidden. "You know me better than that."
"Then why the hell didn't you come forward with the information before they released your client?"
"I have a right to know if a witness is going to tank my case," Dani replied. "Now that I know she won't, you can grill her all damned night if you want. And if you behave yourself, I'll even let you question my client… in the morning."
"How kind of you," Langston said bitingly.
Had the two of them been lovers? Gwen wondered, as she listened to their bitter exchange. The tension that seemed to lurk beneath the surface certainly indicated that they shared some sort of history. And given the passion that flashed in their eyes as they exchanged caustic barbs, she wouldn't be surprised to learn that they had fucked at least a time or two. The mere possibility of it brought a twinge of sadness to Gwen's heart.
Tall and muscular, with that lithe body, flawless skin and perfect hair, and dark exotic eyes that sparkled with amusement even when she was angry, Danika Kováč was an absolute goddess! Who was she, with her short, slightly plump physique and lackluster hair, to compete against that?
When Danika opened her mouth to respond with another bitter barb, willfully, Gwen forced those self-loathing thoughts aside. Stepping in, she pointedly asked if their time might be better served by talking with the witness, rather than engaging in a territorial pissing contest in the hallway.
Danika had the good graces to blush. And a sheepish smile teased at Langston's lips as her gaze met Gwen's, locking. She quickly apologized, and readily agreed with her. And moments later, they stood face-to-face with the person who held Tracy's future in her hands.
Thursday, June 18, 2009… Penthouse Suite, the Beacon—12:30 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Distractedly, Tracy Jackson paced the floor in the sitting room of her boss's penthouse suite. The call had come in at nine thirty, and now, three hours later, they were still waiting for the appearance of this self-proclaimed witness. They had long-since exhausted attempts to figure the situation out on their own—even the police report and arrest warrant had been of little help to them, and that had only exacerbated the level of anxiety that hummed in the room.
"What the hell is taking so long?" she snapped, as she continued to wear holes in the thick gray carpet. "She should've been here hours ago!" She was stressed beyond measure, worried sick that something had happened, and she would never know the truth about that night.
Jen went to her then, the light brushing of her fingertips against Tracy's back letting her know she was there. And then firmly, she wrapped her arms around her fiancée's waist from behind. Resting her chin on Tracy's shoulder, she nuzzled against her neck, drawing in the soft, familiar scent of her. "All this pacing is getting you nowhere, Honey," she murmured softly against Tracy's ear. "Come. Sit with me. I need to hold you."
Releasing a slow sigh, heated tears collected in Tracy's eyes. "I'm so scared, Jen," she managed to whisper around the lump that had formed in her throat. She turned in Jen's arms then, burying her face in Jen's neck. "I'm scared of losing our family."
"That's never going to happen," Jen declared firmly. "Never."
"You can't know that," Tracy argued.
"I know that no matter what happens, I'll never leave you," Jen quietly, yet adamantly assured.
"Even if we find out I really did this?" Tracy sounded like a wounded child, hurt… and scared.
Gently, Jen took Tracy's face into her hands, locking her gaze on those dark, wounded eyes. "Even then," she whispered, lightly brushing their lips together. "You're it for me, Treasa Jackson. Don't you get that? Don't you get that nothing will ever keep me from loving you?"
Tracy's tears began in earnest then, and she threw her arms around Jen's waist, clinging to her. And Jen held her close, whispering reassurances to her, as she allowed her time to expend all of the emotions she had been bottling up since the moment this nightmare began. And finally, a firm knock at the door silenced the sounds of Tracy's sobs, as it broke through the tension in the room. And Jen prayed with every ounce of faith within her that the answers were standing on the other side of that door.
Thursday, June 18, 2009… Bennett Thomas's Residence—12:45 a.m. Central Daylight Time
The room was quiet, save the light tapping of keys as Doris pecked out another search on Bennett's laptop. She had been at it for hours, and was on the verge of giving up—something Doris Wolfe rarely did. But there was a momentary pause, and then Doris's voice broke through the silence.
"Oh, my God… I've got it, BJ!"
She shuffled through the pile of papers; hunting for the original documentation that she thought held the key. A quick glance between the document and the screen, and then she turned toward Bennett, excitement in her deep blue eyes. "I figured out the connection! At least part of it, anyway."
"Well, don't keep me waiting…" Bennett looked at her expectantly. "What is it?"
"Just like in business, it's all in a name," Doris said with a triumphant. "We've just been looking at the wrong one…"
TBC in Chapter 14.14…