Still need to give a warning – this chapter is still T, I believe, but still pushing the envelope a bit. Don't read if you're offended easily by suggestions of adult situations or near-adult situations. And, of course, I still get no financial benefit from this.

Chuck wasn't quite sure how to prepare the house. He'd stopped and picked up sugar, shortening, eggs, flour, cream of tartar, and everything else that could possibly be needed to make snickerdoodles, hundreds and hundreds of snickerdoodles. And every other kind of cookie he could think of. He had already closed and locked the Morgan door and was just finished closing all the blinds when the doorbell rang.

It was Sarah, of course. She was wearing a short-sleeve button-up shirt, a skirt, and flip-flops. The shirt was buttoned only a few times – the top two buttons and the bottom buttons were undone, showing a moderate amount of cleavage and frequent hints at her belly button. The skirt looked like it had come from Anna's collection – showing an immense expanse of perfectly-sculpted leg. She had a very large and reasonably heavy duffel bag in one hand and a cloth grocery bag in the other. She was also sporting a huge grin.

Chuck smiled back at her, flashing his thousand watts. "That's a lot of equipment for a simple cookie-making party."

"Can I come in?"

"Of course, but what's all the stuff?" Chuck moved aside to let her in. Sarah moved past him, waggling her eyebrows at his discourtesy, and his appearance. He was wearing a loose pair of shorts and an old ComiCon t-shirt, which was showing its age in some holes through which tiny pieces of skin almost peaked.

"Watch and learn." After kicking off her sandals, Sarah went to the kitchen and deposited the grocery bag. She moved back to the living room with the duffel bag. Reaching in, she grabbed what looked to Chuck like a miniature wireless internet router. She went over to the wall and stretched up on tiptoes to place the "router" high on the wall. Chuck's attention was not on the router, however, as he watched her shirt ride up, showing Sarah's back (and the skirt was dangerously low, too) and sides to great effect. He missed her flicking a switch and an LED turning green.

"What … what are you … what is that thing?"

"Just your basic electronic jammer. You took care of the basic observation methods into the apartment. I'm taking care of the rest." Sarah gestured at the closed blinds with an obvious show of approval.

Sarah moved across to another wall within the apartment. Turning to face Chuck, she again stretched herself to the max to blindly affix another jammer to another portion of the wall near the ceiling. Chuck completely lost the train of the conversation, as the hem of Sarah's shirt climbed, taking his blood pressure with it. The bottom of curved globes was visible, clearly showing her lack of supportive undergarment. Her breathing had never seemed as fascinating.

When her feet were again flat against the floor, Chuck tried to remember what they were talking about. He had no idea, but something still felt off. Licking his lips, he tried to get his voice back. "Is it … do you have to put them so high to get them to work?"

"No. But it's much more fun this way, isn't it?" The look she shot over her shoulder at him could have been listed as one of the great causes of global warming. Chuck felt his insides melt. She was right. It was more fun. She pulled a third jammer from her bag and moved towards Chuck's bedroom.

"So, those will protect us from Casey's equipment? Why haven't you let me use these before?"

"Because Casey will break them if he finds them. And because I've never needed them before." The third jammer was attached above Chuck's door, near where Bryce had once hidden. Chuck missed a great show, with his eyes closed, trying to understand.

"But you need them now?"

"I really do. Now let's get cooking!"

The two moved to the kitchen, where they can begin working on the afternoon's first project – making the actual dickerdoodle cookies. "Let's really heat things up," Sarah commented as she turned the oven on, starting to preheat it for baking cookies.

"Is that the way the afternoon's going to be? Endless flirtations and comments?"

"Pretty much. Don't you like innuendo?"

"In your end-o." Chuck knew it was weak and too much like 'the Todd', but he didn't know if Sarah watched Scrubs or not. Besides, he couldn't resist.

"Ooohhh…setting up ideas for later. I likey. Is that a problem?"

"Ummm … no. Just trying to make sure I understand."

Sarah's eyebrows danced a little jig that nicely complemented her grin. "Good. Why don't you whip up the frosting – make it nice and creamy, while I get to work on the big dick … erdoodles?"

"Sure thing." Chuck found a recipe in the grocery bag, along with all the necessary ingredients. Somewhat surprisingly, he also found professional-looking frosting tools. Of all the things he'd pictured Sarah having, frosting syringes was not on the list anywhere. She was full of surprises, as the entire afternoon was proving.

When he looked at Sarah, she smiled. "We've got to make the creamy white lines on my face later look realistic, don't we?" In response to his weak nod, she added, "Those seemed the best way to ensure a nice even gloss."

While Chuck, in a state of bewildered delirium, was working on mixing the various sugars into frosting, Sarah worked on the cookies, making occasional comments into the silence. "Crack one egg. Yeah, I'm sure this won't be the only egg to get cracked today." Followed a few seconds later by "Cream of tartar. Hmm…wrong kind of cream, though I'm looking forward to some creamy emissions later tonight."

Chuck was finding it rather difficult, okay, impossible, to concentrate on his task. He kept glancing up at Sarah. Every time she caught him looking at her, she would pull her shoulders back and watch his eyes snap downwards. He would then try to look her in the eyes again, but it was to no avail. It was no wonder that she finished making the cookies well before any frosting was ready.

Sarah appeared to see it as nothing more than another opportunity. She calmly walked over to where Chuck was bent over his task, trying to complete the frosting – trying to show that he could do something, despite the circumstances. She came up behind him and put her arms under his, pushing herself into his back while putting her hands on his, which were trying to control the beater. "Make sure it's thick, smooth, and lush – we want the effect to be just perfect."

Chuck tried to respond in kind, pushing himself back into her, but she just ground against him, causing him to melt. With her hands on his, the two completed the final steps of preparing the frosting, with one person who could see (though not straight) and one who was under control (though not total).

With that task completed, it was time to shape the cookies. Sarah had indeed made a double, or maybe even a triple, batch. There was more than enough dough, which was a good thing as they both seemed to get a sense of satisfaction out of shaping whatever monstrosities came to mind.

Chuck's attention wavered more and more throughout the process. After every cookie, or even portion of a cookie, Sarah licked her index finger clean. But she just didn't lick it – she slid her tongue from the base of her hand to fingernail, before sliding her entire finger into her mouth and closing her eyes. She would withdraw the finger slowly and open her mouth to show her tongue swirling around her fingertip, before ending by kissing the tip. Every time. Chuck couldn't stop himself from watching every time either. At least she washed her hands between cookies.

Sarah paid special attention to one cookie, measuring it against her hand and even asking Chuck to borrow his hand, foot, and nose for comparison. Openly appraising Chuck, she tested it one last time before declaring "This one's my favorite. It will get all the best shots in the pictures."

With a couple cookie sheets ready, Sarah put them into the oven. At least, Chuck thought cookies went into the oven – it was the process that fascinated him. Sarah kept her legs locked straight and bent at the waist, far further than necessary to slide in the cookie trays. As she bent, her already too-short skirt rode higher and higher, centimeter by delicious centimeter, showing more leg, the tops of both legs, the bottom of cheeks, and then she was standing up again, and the show reversed itself. Both actions were performed so slowly as to leave no doubt that they were deliberate.

While the cookies – large, small, and in-between – were baking, the couple busied themselves cleaning the kitchen. Mixing bowls and spoons were washed and put away. Chuck was amazed at how many things went very high or low in the kitchen – he'd never noticed before. The small kitchen also meant that the two were crossing paths frequently. Sarah never passed up an opportunity to brush against him. By the end, he was looking for ways to brush against her, too.

The afternoon was still young. Sarah's surprises were only beginning for Chuck.

I'm still not sure what to think of this story. It's fun to write, in a way, but I'm just not sure about it. Please continue to R&R with thoughts.