After her interview, Brenda went back to her office, and let her team know that she'd be taking the rest of the day off, since they'd closed the Lynch case, and since she couldn't stand rehashing that interview a million times, and since her shoes were killing her, and they could call her if they caught a case, but that it had better be a damn good emergency if they did. As she swept out of the office, Detective Gabriel caught her eye, and gave her a wide grin. She nodded in his direction, and headed to the elevator.
Once she got home, she stripped out of the dress, and tossed it in one of those Dry Clean in the Dryer kits. The Mayor had puffed his way through 2 cigars during their 'speed date', and Brenda was sure the stink clung to every fiber she had on, plus her hair. Once the dress was safely ensconced in the dryer, she jogged up the steps to the bathroom, and turned on the stereo, snickering when the lyrics were about kissing some girl in Chapstick. Setting the shower to its hottest setting, she climbed in, and let the water sluice over her. She was determined to take things slow tonight, with Sharon. They'd go out, have a nice meal, maybe a glass of wine. Sharon would bring her home, maybe a good night kiss or two, but that was it. Brenda didn't think she could survive it if Sharon got cold feet again, especially not if they were intimate again. She felt her nipples pucker under the steaming water as she remembered the sensation of Sharon's mouth on her breast, almost as hot as the water cascading over it now. She thought briefly about taking the edge off, to give her hormones a fighting chance later on, but as she slid her soapy hands over her body, she decided that waiting would make it better, in the end.
Sharon sat at her desk, scowling at her watch. It was only 6:15. She'd already changed into a dark, pleated skirt, with a plum V-necked shell, and dark shoes. Her hair was flawless, her makeup was done. And it would only take 10 minutes to get to Brenda's house. Drumming her fingers on the desk, she decided to risk being unfashionably early, because the waiting was going to drive her insane. She stopped by the kitchenette to rescue the flowers she'd bought on her lunch break, and then took the stairs to the parking garage, and slid in behind the wheel, and keyed the ignition and pulled out. Despite driving below the speed limit, and earning the ire of more than a few fellow travellers on that long road, it was only 6:40 when she arrived. She reached into the passenger seat, and grabbed the flowers, and headed up the walkway, going over the capitals of states in her mind, to block out the memory of the things they'd done on that awful blue couch. She rang the doorbell, and waited.
Inside, Brenda heard the doorbell, and glanced at the clock, groaning. It was probably the UPS man with a delivery for the neighbor. She pulled on her shortie robe, and ran down the stairs to shoo them away. Yanking the door open, she blinked twice at the vision on her porch. Sharon Raydor, shrouded in the fading orange of the setting sun, was absolutely radiant. Brenda had to remind herself to breathe. She stepped back, and gestured an equally breathless Captain to come in.
"You're early! I thought you were the UPS man, or something." Brenda laughed, a little weakly, trying to calm the hammering of her heart.
Sharon cocked her head, trying to determine if Brenda actually made it a habit of answering for the post in a robe that left precious little to the imagination. Not that Sharon's imagination wasn't making up for what was covered, for all that.
"You might want to put these in some water," she finally said, holding the flowers out, "they're chocolate scented daisies."
Brenda reached out to take the flowers, and as their hands brushed, she had to stifle the small sigh that threatened to escape. Sharon's skin was so smooth, belying her age. She turned, and went into the kitchen in search of a vase. As she walked, she held the flowers to her nose, expecting the chocolate scented part to be more of an idea, than a reality, but to her surprise, the flowers smelled exactly like rich, dark cocoa. She stopped, and looked back at Sharon, amazed at the way she'd taken something as trite as flowers on a date, and made it exactly perfect for Brenda. Sharon was drinking in the vision of Brenda walking away in that sinfully short robe, and didn't immediately realize that Brenda had stopped, and was now aware of the lascivious scrutiny Sharon was administering. When it occurred to her that those ridiculously long legs were no longer moving, she slowly raised her eyes, and met Brenda's with a look of total hunger. Brenda felt her throat go dry at the sight, and took a few steps back, hoping to regain her composure, and resume the task of finding a vase for the flowers.
Coming back into the entry hall, she placed the vase on the table, and turned to face Sharon.
"They're absolutely perfect. Thank you so much." Her accent was stronger, thanks to her hyperawareness of her nearly naked state, and Sharon's proximity. Her body tingled in anticipation, and she was sure that her pulse was going to hit triple time, if she couldn't pull it together.
"You're welcome, Brenda. It seems I have some things to make up for, so consider those a more delicious alternative to an olive branch." Sharon replied, carefully keeping her gaze on Brenda's face.
Brenda nodded, and then gestured towards the stairs. "I'm just gonna go get dressed, and then we can go, m'kay?"
"Right. I'll, uh, I'll just wait down here." Sharon agreed.
"Oh, for heaven's sakes! Where are my manners? You can have a seat. Would you like anything while you wait? Sweet tea, or anything?" Brenda couldn't believe she'd almost left the woman standing in her foyer, without a lick of hospitality. Some days, she hated living in LA.
"I'll sit, thank you, but I don't need a drink." Sharon chuckled, thinking that actually, she very much did need a drink, but that sweet tea wasn't nearly strong enough to stem the tide of need that was flooding every shore in her mind.
"All right then. I'll be right back." Brenda scampered up the steps, equal parts mortified and hopeful at the possibility that Sharon was watching her ascent. She closed the bedroom door behind her, and leaned against it, closing her eyes. She took a few deep, cleansing breaths, hoping to ease the ache that had flared up when she'd met Sharon's gaze, and saw the naked desire in those fathomless green eyes. If that woman kept looking at her like that, how on earth was she supposed to remember that she was playing hard to get, to an extent? Shaking her head, she shrugged off the robe, and pulled on a very lacy bra, and tugged the dress over her head. She pondered adding a thong, but she hated to ruin the line of the dress, so she sent up another apology to the good upbringing she was ignoring, and pulled on a pair of red sling backs. She bent over, and shook her hair vigorously, tousling the waves, then flipped it quickly back up, letting it flow wildly over her shoulders. She added a dab of lip gloss, thinking that the red from earlier would surely smear if they happened to share that goodnight kiss, and snatched up the little printed purse she'd taken on her interview with the Mayor.
Sharon heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and stood up, turning to greet the blonde woman. For the third time that day, though, the site of Brenda's lean frame knocked the air from her lungs, and left her fumbling for words. She met Brenda at the bottom of the staircase, having composed herself somewhat, and extended her hand, feeling that familiarly pleasant jolt when their palms linked, and their fingers twined together.
"I feel as though I didn't do this outfit justice earlier, when I told you looked great. You look astonishing. You absolutely take my breath away." Sharon said, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on Brenda's cheek.
"Thank you." Brenda blushed, and moved towards the door. "So, tell me about this little Italian place. Is it the best kept secret in L.A?"
Sharon followed, smiling at the small talk. "Not exactly. Occasionally famous people eat there. I mean, it is L.A after all, and famous people have eaten almost everywhere, so it has a little notoriety, but overall, it's a nice little spot, without too much of a wait. Of course, we have reservations, so that's not an issue."
"Of course we have reservations." Brenda teased, locking the door behind them. "You're setting a dangerous expectation here, Sharon. I'm more of a takeout kind of girl."
Sharon snorted at that, resisting the urge to make a terrible joke about cheap and easy, and just opened the passenger door for Brenda, and taking great pleasure in watching her settle those long legs into the car, before shutting the door, and walking around to slide in behind the wheel. The drive to the restaurant was filled with a general conversation, Sharon griped about an OIS involving Vice, where the Officer involved hadn't actually shot anyone, but a meth addict had managed to commandeer the officer's gun during a struggle, and then accidentally shot himself in the forearm, and Brenda mentioned that she was pondering putting her entire team, sans Gabriel, on short leashes following the mix up with arresting Torres while he was being intimate with his fiancé.
Sharon parked in front of a cozy little building, with dark siding, and brightly lit sconces decorating the façade. She turned off the car, and gracefully stepped out, walking around to open the door for Brenda.
"You know, for someone who was razzing me earlier today about opportunities for women, and what not, you are very chivalrous. Isn't that at odds? I mean, I could of course, open my own door. And you brought me flowers. And you picked me up. Are you uh, I mean, is this how you usually court women? Or are you acting like a southern gentleman because you think that's what I'd like?" Brenda asked, as they walked to the door of the restaurant.
Sharon smirked at the line of questioning. "Are you asking if I'm going to be the man in the relationship, Brenda Leigh?"
"No! I mean, I thought that it wasn't like that. That there wasn't a 'male' and a 'female' role, in relationships like this? I saw a special on 20-20, and they said that was old fashioned, from before Stonewall." Brenda was extremely pleased with herself for knowing that.
"Well," Sharon chuckled, "it's true that many people don't subscribe to traditional stereotypes anymore. There are as many flavors of lesbian as there are straight women, which is to say none of us do it the same. It's a matter of individual taste. For my part, I am better at being an active partner. I am a woo-er, as it were. Because our society tends to associate that sort of thing with men, it's not uncommon for me to be seen in the masculine role. I assure you, however, that I am 100% woman."
Brenda swept her gaze over Sharon's body, taking in the generous cleavage, the curve of her hips beneath that skirt, and felt a flush start to rise to her cheeks. "Well, there's no doubt about that, is there?"
The maître d showed them to a secluded corner table, and handed them a wine list, after listing the specials. Brenda looked over the list, and found that they had several imported Italian Merlot's, and she grinned happily. They ordered a bottle of Livon's "Tiare Mate", and Brenda couldn't help the little moan of appreciation when the red liquid spilled into her mouth. Sharon watched as her elegant throat worked, loving the pleasure she took in the simple act of drinking wine.
"Dear lord that's good." Brenda said, setting her glass back on the table.
"So, I know that you prefer a big glass of merlot, but do you have particular favorites?" Sharon asked, as she glanced over the menu.
"Well, there's a Slovenian variety that is my absolute favorite. It's not an export, so I can only get it over there, and I haven't been for ages. Aside from that, I enjoy the Italian Merlots, and then the domestic Californians."
The conversation continued thus, as they dined on crisp salads, richly sauced pasta dishes, and of course, more wine. Brenda had just finished relaying a story about her niece, Charlie, when the waiter reappeared, and asked about dessert.
"Oh! I hadn't even looked at the dessert menu yet." Brenda fussed.
"It's fine, Brenda. We'll share one zuccotto, please," Sharon said to the waiter, then turned to Brenda, adding, "I promise you'll love it. Trust me?"
Brenda nodded, and Sharon relaxed. In the candlelight, Brenda's hair seemed to glow an almost fiery blonde, and though the woman had kept up a steady stream of conversation, Sharon wouldn't have been able to recall much of it, distracted as she was by the movement of those sensual lips. Each time she leaned forward, the neckline of her dress shifted, and Sharon tried not to notice the black lace and pale skin, but it was a losing battle. Her thighs ached from pressing them together, and the evening wasn't close to over. She closed her eyes briefly, snapping them open when she felt Brenda's hand close over hers.
"You okay?" Brenda asked.
"Fine. I was just thinking." Sharon answered evasively.
"Oh? What about?" Brenda let her fingers trace patterns on the back of Sharon's hand, reveling in the softness of her skin.
"This and that."
"Tell me?" Brenda looked up at Sharon through her lashes, and Sharon thought she might never be able to refuse that look.
"I was thinking how beautiful you are in the candlelight. It brings these fiery highlights to your hair, and you seem almost aglow."
"Sharon.." Brenda whispered, stunned by the dark haired woman's words.
The waiter reappeared then, placing a funny little ice cream mold on their table, along with two spoons. Sharon picked one up, handing it to Brenda, then picked up her own as well. She sliced into the zuccotto with the side of the spoon, and pulled a small morsel free. She leaned across the table, and held the spoon to Brenda's lips.
"Taste." She said, her voice low and honeyed.
Brenda parted her lips, accepting the spoon, and the rich, creamy, cakey mixture. The chocolate was dark, and decadent, but there was cake, too, which was light, and airy. The whole thing had been chilled, and Brenda closed her eyes as each flavor danced over her tongue.
"So?" Sharon asked, once Brenda stopped chewing.
"Oh my god. That's almost illegal, it's so good!" Brenda replied, using her own spoon to scoop another bite free. This time, she held the spoon to Sharon's lips, and watched as the older woman captured the bowl of the spoon delicately between her lips. The pink tip of her tongue darted out to catch a crumb, and Brenda felt her center go liquid at the sight.
They continued to share the dessert in this way, until Brenda was a tightly wound coil of arousal. Her steely resolve from earlier was already shattering, and all she wanted to do was slide under the table, and see if the taste of Sharon Raydor was sweeter than any decadent Italian dessert. Sharon gestured for the check, and when Brenda reached for her purse, Sharon waved her away.
"I invited you out. This is my treat." She explained, closing a black credit card into the billfold the waiter had discreetly set on the table. "When you ask me out, you can treat."
"It seems to me that technically, I did ask you out. Since we never got to go out when you asked before." Brenda teased, smiling at the narrowed eyes the Captain turned her way.
"Never the less, as I keep telling you, Chief Johnson, and as you keep forgetting, I must go first." Sharon's voice dropped a register, sending heat streaking through Brenda's belly as she recalled the last time Sharon had mentioned that. Those elegantly slender fingers had been…oh lord. She pressed her thighs together, and tried to name the 7 deadly sins in alphabetical order. She made it to lust, and then she thought of the look Sharon had leveled in her direction earlier. And then she thought that just maybe, it'd be okay not to wait.