7-31-10: I want to thank bajan-martini, my new beta for reviewing this chapter and making a better reading experience for all. Thanks so much, b-m!

Chapter 11: Groans And Moans

"What are you wearing?"

I could feel the sweat break out on my upper lip.

"Well….I got on those red silk boxers you gave me."

I groaned quietly.

"I don't have any panties on."

He let out a moan of pleasure and then laughed.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I reached and grabbed the mouth piece of the call radio. "Roscoe, you and Louise need to go to another channel. You're using one of the station's channels again."

I could hear Louise squeak in embarrassment, heavy things being thumped and dropped, and Roscoe stuttered back at me, "Sor-, sorry Sheriff!"

"Not a problem. Y'all have a nice evening."

I leaned back in my chair and chuckled. I heard bursts of laughter coming from the squad room; they had been manning the channels like me.

Following the laughter, a loud chorus of protests rang out from the squad room: "Ah Sheriff!" "It was just getting good!" "Woo-hoo - she wun't wearin' nuthin'!

I yelled out to them, "Alright, alright! Knock it off! Back to work!"

I wasn't mad and they knew it. The team and I had found our groove and we were working like a well greased machine. I was grateful and thankful for this. We were a small team but were about to become bigger. I was given the funding to hire five more full-time deputies. I could deputize civilians as needed, but I preferred not to go the 'rednecks for rent' route, for obvious reasons.

More laughter came from the other room and but died down abruptly. I guess my guest had arrived. I got up and closed the curtains of my office in preparation of our private talk.

"Hey Sam!" "Merlotte!" "Hey, buddy!" The team enthusiastically greeted Sam Merlotte, who had just shown up for his appointment.

I went to my office door and waved him over.

"Sam, thanks for coming."

"Not a problem."

I closed my office door and motioned a very edgy and jittery Sam to take a seat in one of the visitor chairs at the front of my desk. I went around and sat down behind my desk – in the chair from you-know-who. For the record: I did send a thank-you card on behalf of the police department to Eric for his thoughtful donation. I'm sure he got a chuckle out of it.

I asked Sam if he wanted coffee, which he declined.

He was trying very hard to look comfortable, but was failing miserably. I sincerely felt sorry for him.

"Sam, let me just get to it - I need your help."

"Oh, really? Well, Sheriff, I would be…whatever I can do-"

"Sam, I know you're a shape shifter." He released an audible, pained moan that lasted for a several seconds. He looked up and over at the door, probably contemplating the feasibility of making one of his great escapes. He settled down and then withdrew into his thoughts, gazing but not focusing; I sat quietly, allowing him the time he needed.

"Well." He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. He had the soft, silky kind of hair that a woman would kill for. No matter how he ruffled it, he still looked good. "Well. How did you-"

"Homeland Security and various other government agencies have been investigating…supernaturals. Incidents…various isolated incidents…have revealed your uniqueness."

He was nodding, acknowledging that he was following along with what I was saying, but he wasn't looking at me.

"Sam, please look at me." He complied, but I could tell it was a struggle for him. "I'm asking for your help because I believe, as do others, that you pose no threat to the community, but you do have access to certain…species, and we need to know more about them and…who they are…what they do or can do."

"So, you want to me to be an informant?"

"Yes."

"If I do that, then I'm a walking target."

"Sam, you're already a walking target. I can offer you special protection, when and if needed." He snorted. He obviously didn't believe a word that I said.

"Sam, which do you consider yourself first, a citizen of the United States or a citizen of the supernatural world?" I had to play the patriot card because I didn't have many cards to play.

"A citizen of the United States, of course," his response had a slightly rude tinge to it, the question had irritated him. Thank you! The card play had worked, I hit a nerve.

"Well then, you have an obligation to your fellow countrymen to help in the defense of this country, against people - and species - that would like to destroy this country for their own personal gain. It's another form of terrorism that we now face." I wasn't sure if I was going too far with my patriot angle, it was hard to read him.

Sam sat in his chair, listening to me but not looking at me. He had turned away from me, concentrating on my corner file cabinet. He had closed himself off again and had become a knot of crossed arms and legs. Though his face wore a defiant mask, I could tell he was listening to me.

"The federal and local government, are trying to find out 'what or who' is behind all sorts of new and peculiar crimes, escalating violence, and the huge increase of missing persons. Maybe you've noticed these things…in the news?"

"I don't know about any of that. I don't know about this – helping you. I do care…and I want to help. But…Sheriff, I'm," he laughed and scratched and rubbed at patches in his beard, "not as naive as you think I am, and neither are the folks around here. If I go poking around, becoming buddy-buddy with - you know…" He voice trailed off, emphasizing the futility of his statement.

I got up and walked around to the front of my desk and leaned back, partially sitting down on it. I was about a foot away from him. I sat there for a few moments; he continued to stare at the file cabinet.

I leaned forward, breaching his personal space ever so slightly, "I don't want you to do that. I just want you to tell me if you overhear or directly hear something. You can pass the information off to me via an arranged meeting place, or call me at an arranged time, when you are safely away from others. That's it, that's all I want. Give me what you can, when you can. I don't want to put you in jeopardy, just be a concerned citizen - do what you can, when you can…And, no one knows about you here, only me, and that's how I intend to keep it."

He looked at me and smirked, he wasn't buying any of what I had said. For the most part, I was telling the truth – or least three-quarters of the truth. I didn't want to put him in harm's way and I had not told anyone about him in my precinct nor would I. But, I report all findings to Roman, who of course, passes it onward.

"Sam, you are one of the few people around who can probably identify another supernatural. That's why I need you." I was whispering now, trying to soothe him and abate his growing tension. I think it was working; he seemed to slow his breathing down and his facial expressions relaxed. I'm sure he was still a bundle of nerves on the inside.

He shrugged his right shoulder as if to say, 'maybe.' "I'm not all that good at seeing the others...but I'm getting better."

I tilted my head down until I was in his line of view. It was time to try another charm. With a coy, flirtatious smile, I said, "Sam, please…please help me. You're the only one that I can turn to for this."

Yeah – I went there. Using 'me lucky charms' to accomplish the goal. Vampires aren't the only manipulative species. And for the record…I didn't have to struggle to play this card…Sam was easy on the eyes.

He looked at me and then looked away for a few seconds and then back at me. I could see the gears turning in his head as he considered all the things we had talked about and the way that I was looking at him. I watched his face closely, hoping to garner any thought or feeling that he might be having. He was a tough read.

"Alright, Sheriff. Let me think about things and I'll get back to you." He got up to leave and for the life of me, I couldn't help myself, I had to let out my inner joker, it's my reflex at times of stress or tension. "Sam, I hope to see a lot more of you in the future, not just a few seconds here and there. I would like to see the 'dashing' Sam, not Sam dashing…away."

He actually blushed, and then chuckled. He crossed his arms, and looked at his feet. "Yeah, well, you know…I had a feeling…I just didn't want to have this talk…until I was ready. I kinda knew…that you knew."

"I know you knew what I knew – you know?" We both snickered at my goofy, little word game.

"Yep. Okay…I'll get back to you." He smiled, then turned and started walking to the door.

I walked behind him. He stopped at the door, turned back to me and then stuck out his hand for me to shake. Since I was a tad taller than him, he had to look up at me. Boy, he really has the prettiest eyes and the longest eye lashes.

I shook his hand. It was a good moment and I understood the symbolism that it represented – before, he was not welcoming and didn't want to shake my hand, but now he was. "Look forward to seeing you at Merlotte's. Coffee's always on the house."

"Well, thanks, Sam. I can't resist a good cup of coffee or -" I almost said 'dashing men,' but I didn't want to play that card anymore, at least not now, "or the kindness being offered."

He looked at me in a strange way, almost as if he was trying to find some answer to an unknown question. He smiled and then turned and left.

As I walked to my desk, I heard my cell phone beep. I had missed a text message. I punched my way through to the message and was slightly stunned when I saw it: "Coffee? Eric."

Blood rushed to my head and my spine turned into ice. How did he get my cell number? It's a private number!

I just stared at the message; my nervous system was humming and chills flashed in and around my stomach. I groaned and sank into my 'Eric - chair. Damn, he could even affect me through the technology of fiber optics. Shit.

I and myself had several serious talks in the last few days, and we decided that I needed to get my act together - enough of the school girl crush crap in regards to Eric. Deep breathing was a good technique and had helped but sensory re-wiring was better. Sensory re-wiring is a technique in which you mentally imagine something horrible and associate it with the pleasurable thing. Ergo, the attraction lessens for the blonde, tall, and sexy vampire.

I planned to think of dead baby animals or think of smells or tastes that made me feel nauseous. Hopefully, I wouldn't have to use the smell and taste technique; those stimuli were so effective that I would actually start gagging. That is a real mood breaker, let me tell you.

I looked at the message and I knew I most definitely wasn't up to meeting with Eric. I was tired and all prior meetings with Eric had proved to be trying and exhausting and I just didn't have it in me. I sent him back a message, "Can't, duty. Thx. Soon."

I lied. I was getting off duty, not going on it. Plus, I had an important errand to run before I went home.

It was autumn now and it was already dark by 6:00 PM.

As I made my way out to my car, I got the weirdest feeling, as if someone was watching me. I looked around but didn't see anyone. The sheriff's station was downtown, surrounded by streets and other buildings and well lit. If there was anyone there, I would have seen them.

As I got settled into my car, a memory flashed behind my eyes, it was the very odd dream from last night.

The night air was cool, so I decided to sit out on the deck and catch up on my personal email. I fell asleep and then the dream started, Avis in the helicopter. She was shouting at me, trying to tell me something and I couldn't hear her. I was becoming upset, struggling against some unknown force that seemed to hold me in place. She was becoming frantic, wild fear showing in her eyes. She was waving and pointing to something outside of the copter. I felt a stab of terror and became desperate in trying to get to her.

Suddenly, I felt the impact of the missile, the blinding light started to flash and my yell was turning into a scream…when…a cool breeze blew over me and a man's voice whispered into my ear, "Wake up." And I did.

I was gasping for air; I was covered in sweat and apparently had been crying because the tears were stinging my eyes. I looked around me, trying to see who whispered to me. No one was there. It must have been just part of my dream or some protective part of my psyche coming through – whatever.

I groaned when I realized that I had dropped my computer on the deck floor. Thankfully, it was fine.

I asked the night air, "When will these dreams stop?" I stood up and stretched. "I miss you, Avis." I spoke out loud to her image in my head. A headache had started in my right temple and moaned while rubbing it, hoping the sound would give the pain an avenue of release.

Later, then I slept, I didn't dream at all. I slept well.

My errand was a stop at the doctor's office of my neighbor, Miss Violet. The office had called and said that they would wait for me and stay open until I got there.

My neighbor, Miss Violet Rose Dalton, lived in the house at the beginning of my private road. If I had to guess, I would be generous and say that she was in her early seventies, though, I think she was well into her eighties. She was feisty, alert, in relatively good health, and took excellent care of her home and yard. I hoped I was doing as well when I reached her age.

I met her about a week after moving in, and we instantly clicked. She was a wonderful cook and she would surprise me on occasion by leaving dinner plates loaded with the best fried chicken and trimmings or similar, especially on the nights that I worked late shift. She would also leave me flowers and bundles of unusual herbs that had specific instructions tied to them. Many times, she told me to hang the herbs above my door or window; it seemed she was superstitious and believe that the herbs had mystical powers. For the most part, I did what she said, it wasn't hurting anything and it made her happy.

I, in turn, would do errands for her or with her, but mostly, I picked up her groceries or anything she needed from town. Tonight, I was picking up her prescription at her doctor's office. Her new medicine's side effects were too severe, so she was being switched to something different. Miss Violet had called ahead and since I was the sheriff, they were very obliging.

I noticed the name on the placard as I walked in, 'Dr. Liam McTavish, M.D.' I took off my hat and adjusted to the light. The receptionist saw me, said something to two ladies standing near her. One of the women went dashing off into a corridor and the other standing woman called to me.

"Sheriff Lautner? Hi, I'm Minnie, Dr. McTavish's nurse. We've got everything for you, but the doctor wanted to talk to you."

"Sure, not a problem." As I spoke, a tall, man came walking up the corridor, followed by the woman who was sent to fetch him. He was a looker. Damn, Bon Temp is becoming a fantasy land for women! All these gorgeous men – dead and alive. Somehow, I didn't feel tired any more.

I looked for a wedding ring and didn't see one. Hot diggety! Figuratively speaking, I wasn't looking to buy, just browsing, and the window display was great! He was over six feet, maybe six-two, large build, dark green eyes, coal black hair, and dimples that you could swim in. I couldn't see too much of his body because of his doctor's coat, but he looked fit.

Then, he spoke and I almost laughed out loud. He had a thick, sexy, Scottish accent, which was wrapped inside a rich, baritone voice. Wow wee. Me like men with accents.

Deep breath…much better. I hate being in my sexual prime age range. No, actually, I hate not having a partner to help me through my sexual prime age range years. Yeah, it's a bummer.

"Sheriff Lautner, am I correct? I'm Dr. McTavish, Miss Dalton's doctor."

"Yes, that's right, I'm Sheriff Lautner."

"Here's her prescription. Are you looking after her?" He didn't stop for my response. "After she takes this, please contact me and let me know straight away if she has any problems with this. This will work for her, though it's too bad she couldn't tolerate the other medicine, it was more effective. I had samples from my pharmaceutical reps and I'm giving them to her so that she can start straight away. Also, I placed the written prescription for refills in the bag."

"That's not a problem; I'll make it a point to look in on her and I'll let you know. Thanks." He then handed me the bag containing the samples and the prescription.

"Do you have any questions for me?" Wow, that was some gorgeous accent, and he was a pleasure to look at. His smile exuded a warmth and comfort.

I smiled back at him, "No, no not really. But I'll call if something pops up."

"Let me walk you out." He walked ahead and opened the door for me. Oh, nice… Very nice. A gentleman. Me really liking more.

We walked slowly down the pathway and stopped at the intersection of the sidewalk and the pathway. His eyes twinkled when he smiled and they were the color of dark emeralds. "So, you're a transplant, too, like me." His question was more of a statement. His smile increased in intensity.

Interesting - he knows about me. Hell, that doesn't mean anything, everyone talks about everyone here. But, I hadn't heard about him and this was a small town. The grapevine is slacking.

"Yes, that's right, I'm new to the area. Where are you from?" I returned his smile.

"Edinburgh, originally. This heat takes some adjustment, doesn't it?"

I laughed, "Yes, it certainly does. The summer is brutal - boiling. This is actually much cooler - more like simmering."

"Yes, it tis nicer now, but in the mid-noon, I practically run to my car to get the air conditioning started, even now." We both laughed like conspirators; tender skinned people united.

"Well, where are you heading off to?" He had switched from professional doctor mode and now was acting as if we were old friends. I didn't think he was flirting, there wasn't any tell tale signs like eye work or sexy smirks, so I decided to play it safe. He was just being friendly. I made sure that my response was evenly toned, without any subtext.

"I just got off duty; heading to Miss Violet's and then home." I gave him a friendly smile and he responded in kind.

"Where's to eat around here?"

"Oh, you are new, aren't you? Merlotte's is good, and there are some diners and a new café just opened on the road to Monroe, but I haven't tried it yet."

"Could I interest you in joining me in a wee repast before you head home? Perhaps dinner at Merlotte's?" His smiled and his emerald beauties sparkled.

Did he just ask me out? Like OUT – out? Nah, better to be safe than sorry. "I'd love to join you, but tonight isn't good for me. But thank you-." I actually was going to eat with Miss Violet, she had invited me earlier, but I didn't want to tell him that, I don't know why, though.

I learned a long time ago, that a man asking you to join him for dinner doesn't mean he's asking you on a date. He might be gay and looking for a friend, or in this case, just lonely. Time would tell.

"Oh, then, another time?"

I smiled and nodded 'yes.' "Sure."

I felt like we were two kids, trading just standing there, smiling at each other.

Beautiful, dark green eyes - warm, not like the cold, intense, sexy, sky blue eyes of Eric's. Okay, focus, Jo.

My eye caught a blur of motion from the front bay window of the doctor's office. The three ladies had been joined by a fourth lady and they were now intently watching 'the doctor and sheriff show' through the front bay window. Sorry, folks, show's over.

"Well, I gotta get going. Dinner sounds great, just give me a call sometime. You can reach me at the station. Oh, and thanks so much for the samples, it will save Miss Violet money. LADIES –" I waved my hat at the peeping foursome; they scrambled away from the window. I grabbed one last glance at those incredible dimples before turning to leave.

"Sheriff, nice talking with you." He said to my back, as I walked away.

"You, too." I called back and decided not to look back, just waved my hat. When I got in the car, I let out a low, sex-starved moan - those dimples, hmm, hmm, hmm! A gal could get lost in those dimples. I'm probably not his type.

As I started the car, I realized that I had that feeling again – of someone watching me. Actually, the feeling had never really left me when I first felt it in the station's parking lot. I glanced in my rear view mirror. I couldn't see anyone because it was too dark beyond the parking lot lights. The gorgeous doctor had already gone back into the building, so that wasn't it.

I felt a shot of pain in my head, and I moaned as I tried to rub it away. It was another one of those damn headaches, which I've never had before until I started living in Bon Temps.