AN: Thank you to all the lovely readers who took the time to write notes of feedback. As a longtime lurker, I never knew how much these reviews meant to the author. Reviews are food for the SOUL! As always, I own nothing from the Blacklist except for my angst.

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Chapter 6

When they arrived at the second location, Lizzie avoided Red's hand and jumped out of the Mercedes. Red ducked his head and chuckled. Lizzie scanned the outside of the building, but nothing indicated it was anything but a non-descript office complex.

She looked back at Red questioningly. "Where are we? Have you lured me to an undisclosed location to have your criminal way with me? Really, Red?" She crossed her arms, expectant.

Red closed the distance between them. "I'm shocked, Lizzie. The only thing criminal about my intentions is how they've been foiled at every turn." He walked forward and held open the side door. "And dear, if I was having my way with you, a simple thing like the location would not matter." He grabbed her shoulder as they walked by, making eye contact. "Trust in that." She paused, returning his level gaze. Her mouth opened, shut and then opened again.

Deciding against a reply, she shook her head and proceeded to enter the building. He followed with a hand on her back.

"Sweetheart, be prepared to meet the most gifted designer and craftsman since my regular man, Martin. Martin is unfortunately out of the country at this moment, assisting a Shah or Pasha or Sheik of somewhere. Etienne is even better with the female form, if a bit eccentric. He's harmless…"

They turned sharply down a hallway and continued walking until they reached a plain-looking door. "Etienne Rouxchapeau, Atelier." Without knocking, they entered. "Etienne, I have your 4:30," Red announced.

Liz scanned the room, which was filled with worktables, rolls of fabric and again, half dressed mannequins. I think he might have a fetish for those things because they don't argue with him. Two ladies in their early thirties raised their heads from the work before him.

One, a brunette, gave the other a sideways look and stood. "And you are, sir?" She asked, tilting your head to the side. "I wasn't informed that we had an appointment today. And as for that pauvre enfoiré Etienne, let's just say fate bit him on the ass. He's still recuperating, and if we have our way, he'll stay recuperating. We are unfortunate to be his two older sisters. I am Clemence, sadly called Menace, and this is Genevieve."

The brunette had a faint Quebecois accent and a sarcastic demeanor. She took Red in from stem to stern. "Well, he's handsome enough, developing a bit of a paunch perhaps. Looks like he enjoys living well, but not so much that he's lost his edge. Inseam, about 32, would you say, G? C'est un bon coup, No?" She addressed Liz.

Seeing Liz's puzzled look, she smiled and explained. "He must be good in bed! I'm guessing he could be just about anything; an animal, a gentleman, top, bottom…well, probably not a bottom but he'd fake it well enough. Something about you says you really never give up a control." She laughed throatily and stepped from behind the counter.

Liz stuttered in her attempt to dissuade the woman. "No…we're not…together, like that…"

Menace's eyes widened and she sniffed. "Ah, I see. Sorry for the confusion. But if you do have the opportunity, I'd say try him out. If only to see I am right. I have done a fair bit of research on the subject, in the past of course. I am six years happily married to a lovely mountain of a man, with four kids to cement the deal. So please, forgive my ramblings as garbage from an old married broad."

Liz inwardly huffed. Old married broad, my Aunt Fanny. That woman positively emanates fecundity and fertility.

Red stepped to Menace, and took her hand, "Enchante', Ms. Clemence. I am Raymond Reddington and this is Elizabeth Keene. I appreciate your frank appraisal and invigorating compliment. As delightful as your observations are, I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a bind. I'm assisting my…friend here with a bit of wardrobe supplementation. I had my people leave a message for Etienne, and obviously had no idea of his recent difficulties. Do you know of anyone who could be of assistance on a short notice?" He caressed her hand with his thumb.

Surprisingly, the brunette snapped his hand with the letter she carried, causing Red to quickly back away. "Oh, you are a charmer," she said, accusingly. "I would thank you not to touch me in such a way, Mr. Reddington. The last fellow that tried left with two new holes in his thigh from the vigorous application of industrial clippers."

Red apologized, and looked slightly lost. Lizzie inwardly crowed, Red put in his place, by a non-criminal nevertheless!

Menace continued calmly, "Threats aside, we'd be happy to take on a new client. Etienne had no real records and we're having issues drumming up business. What are you looking for today?

Red began to respond when Liz cut him off with a hand on his arm.

"Just one or two basic pieces, though I'm certain they'd be a waste of your time and talents. I really hate to trouble you, despite what he said."

Red interjected, "Nonsense, Lizzie. They're artists! She's looking for four winter weight wool suits, several mid-weight suits and all the accoutrement. I think we'll also need a selection of evening wear, both cocktail and black-tie." He paused, "Maybe a satin number and one or two options in chiffon. There's a preference for jewel tones, and all the suits must have an allowance for a shoulder holster." Red looked over at Lizzie, who was preparing to launch into another tirade. "After all, she is a winter, obviously." He hummed in satisfaction. "I leave the remaining details to you."

Lizzie shot him a venomous glare, folded her arms and proclaimed, "Over my dead and decaying body. I neither need nor can afford that many pieces. Ladies, perhaps just a suit?"

Menace looked back and forth between her two potential customers, obviously non-plussed as to how to proceed.

Lizzie again employed the forcible sternum poking. "Reddington! I will not permit this! I will remind you that I only agreed to shopping with you because you promised we'd mind my budget."

Red took her hand and folded his around it, pulling them closer together. Lizzie was momentarily shocked by the current flowing between them. There was that pull again. The hairs on her arms stood on end, as if affected by static electricity. Red licked his lips and focused on her own lips, for a moment that seemed to crackle with intensity. He moved his head closer to her until their foreheads almost touched.

Red whispered sincerely, "Lizzie, I promised to help you remain within your budget. I did not agree to a limit on my own. And let's be frank, my dear. I do have a certain reputation to uphold, and your off season separates from…Kohls…really doesn't reflect well on my image." He rubbed her fingers in a conciliatory manner. Think of it as a write-off expense, except you're not submitting your receipts to Accounts Payable, which makes it much easier. No request will be denied and you will never have to justify choosing leather over pleather."

Red became lost in thought again, "Though pleather has it's uses, particularly if activites involve seawater. It's quite a bit more durable, and the tactile joys of a lovely leather outfit are wasted when one is trying to enjoy being en flagranto delicto in the ocean. "

While she followed that interesting line of thinking, Menace and Genevieve took her in hand, stripped her down to her jeans in a tank top. They stood her on a small platform and began chattering in French and efficiently taking her measurements.

The entire time, Lizzie maintained eye contact with Red, as he removed his coat and hat, and took a seat in a leather armchair off to the side. She was captured in the intensity of the moment, and really didn't care to argue about semantics. Instead, she stood, and wondered where tomorrow would find her, if her relationship with Red would evolve into something she wasn't quite ready to consider.

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