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Part 4
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"It's a curious thing," Madeline commented casually, her index finger tracing the span of Sharon's exposed back; tracing an invisible, imaginary line from the point of one shoulder top to the other shoulder, the skin over the deltoid musculature freckled and slightly red from the evening sun earlier in the day.
Madeline traced her finger back to the middle of her lover's neck and then softly touched the expanse of her lover's spine, mesmerized by the naked glistening skin. The way her lover radiated heat; warm thick heat that was tangible when Madeline ghosted her hand across Sharon's back, savoring the aftermath of their lovemaking.
The pale color of nude skin, freckles and the sunburn that only covered the top of Sharon's back, reddish line after the dress that had swooped considerably down in the back. The evening sun had been warm and dinner on the sun deck of Madeline's apartment a treat to bring in the weekend, the other woman the perfect person to celebrate winning in court with. They had gossiped and teased each other, enjoying scampi with an Australian white wine Sharon had picked and bought for the occasion.
Madeline's finger moved between the other woman's shoulder blades, down the lumbar part where the line curved inwards before Madeline ended the journey with all five fingers on the top of one buttock. Madeline's own fingers were noticeably tan against the pale skin of Sharon's buttock, the contrast strangely appealing.
Sharon Raydor, gloriously naked and relaxed, lying on her stomach with her head on her crossed elbows as she hummed in the same casual tone Madeline had tried to perfect. The woman seemed to be far away, her hair like a halo on the mattress beneath her, wholly unconcerned about the world.
Madeline put her whole palm against Sharon's skin, soft flesh beneath her touch as she softly, affectionately, followed the natural swell of her lover's behind, to the back of one thigh and the up again to cup the mound.
"What's a curious thing?" Sharon asked when Madeline made no further attempt to expound upon her comment.
"You," Madeline teased, cupping that one buttock again, "You are a curious thing."
Sharon chuckled, "You have to be more specific, counselor."
Madeline smiled to herself.
"Maybe you are more of a contradiction, then."
Sharon turned her head, her eyes on Madeline as she waited for a clarification. Her expression was shrouded in the shadows of the bedroom, her hair like a cowl from within two pinpoints shone. Madeline moved up along the bed and then lay down next to the other woman, outstretched on her side with her elbow taking the brunt of the weight of her head. and upper torso. Almost face to face with the other woman who still lay on her stomach, head still resting on her arms, head turned to regard Madeline.
The bedroom was aglow in candle light - an orange glow that made shadows elongate in among her lover's features, intimate in the closed space.
"There is something about you today," Madeline began and then she smiled when Sharon moved, coming to lie in an identical position, one of the woman's legs slipping between Madeline's as they lay on their sides facing each other.
Sharon only smiled, her hand swooping over Madeline's waist, the palm resting against Madeline's side and the slender slightly chill fingers tingling as they danced on Madeline's skin in light touches.
"Something?" Sharon repeated, the tone playful and the smirk at the corner of her mouth telling.
Madeline edged closer, enjoying the warmth from the other woman's skin the closer she was.
"There's something you are not telling me – something that's put you in an extraordinarily good mood."
Sharon only nodded, another smug smile dancing on her lips, "Multiple orgasms will put anyone in a good mood," the woman retorted, sly as a fox.
Madeline traced the outline of the woman's collar bones, for a brief moment happy to rest her eyes on naked skin.
When she looked up there was a more serious expression on Sharon's face.
…
Madeline Morgan brought her flowers on occasion, the gifts of flora a gesture Sharon had yet to figure out the meaning of – the gesture even more obscure when a flamboyant bouquet, arranged diligently, arrived at Sharon's office on more than one occasion; neatly on her desk in among folders, files and empty coffee cups. The first time it happened, Sharon had stopped in her office door way, entranced and frantic, not entirely sure what she felt about this overt display of affection. The card however, was too vague for any outsider to comprehend, and somehow that crooked smiley next to Madeline's scribbly handwriting only brought a smile to Sharon's face.
The colors varied; one day it was bright orange that raised more than one eyebrow in the offices of Internal Affairs, and then the next time it was deep red – not unlike the color you declared your love in – but thankfully it was not roses. It was tulips instead. Red tulips that took Sharon's breath away; red tulips that made Sharon's detectives smile secretly at her as if they had been clued in on the mystery of the universe.
This time, opening her front door clad in a pair of jeans and a woolen shirt by Armani, mint green and loose-fitting, Sharon was surprised to be greeted with yet another bouquet of flowers, the lawyer standing with the big display in her arms accompanied by a smug, self-satisfied smile.
This time it was roses.
A large bouquet of freshly cut roses, cream-colored and finely tinged with burgundy edges – and somehow the bouquet felt peculiar in Sharon's arms. They were beautiful, smelled fresh when Sharon ducked her head and sniffed, green foliage reminding her of a garden full of flowers, rain newly fallen. The special way the flowers carried the scent of freshness and yet the sweet underlying tint of perfume.
Sharon barely registered anything besides the roses in her arms, captivated in that strange, peculiar way she had yet to determine what truly meant.
Madeline, cheerful and unconcerned, sauntered inside the apartment, a quick kiss to Sharon's cheek in greeting before the woman took off her belted trench coat, the black garment haphazardly flung out to land on the hallway table. The woman grinned at Sharon's mirror and Sharon still stood by her front door, transfixed between staring at the roses and then at Madeline.
The lawyer had her hair up in her usual chignon, the few errant curls framing a sharp face that softened when the woman looked back at Sharon.
Sharon hugged the bouquet to her, her breath mingled with a tingly feeling – anticipation? Thrill? Fear?
Madeline smiled over her shoulder, amused Sharon could tell, and then the woman discarded her shoes and walked, barefoot, to the kitchen, one brown bag in hand and swaying hips that beckoned as much attention as the roses.
Sharon closed the front door in a stupor and then followed the other woman into the kitchen.
Madeline was in the middle of offloading the brown bag, pulling out a bottle of wine - expensive wine by the look of it, Italian, deeply red and a fine vintage. Again, the gesture of another gift only settled in Sharon's abdomen with a peculiar taste, tingly and foreign.
"You are awfully quiet," Madeline commented with another smile, this one wide and flashy.
Sharon shook her head and then smiled back, "It's been a long, horrible week."
Madeline nodded as she pulled the rest of her gifts out of the bag: scented massage oil that Sharon raised her eyebrow at, a large bar of foreign dark chocolate and a bottle of San Pellegrino sparkling water.
"How horrible?" Madeline turned around and then stared blatantly at Sharon, the woman's back to the kitchen counter, hips out in an attractive angle.
Sharon busied herself with finding a vase for her flowers, opening her cabinets and answering over her shoulder, "Oh, just the usual seventy-two hour cycle of hell. Only I've had three cases in one week, on top of each other. All officers who just happened to shoot off their weapon under dubious circumstances and in the middle of the night nonetheless."
Madeline shook her head, "And it's not even Halloween, hmm."
Sharon hummed, and then she looked at the flowers again.
She was still transfixed – or maybe the word was stupefied – by the color of the roses. Two very different hues and yet the colors flowed seamlessly into each other, the petals of each rose spotless.
"I still can't believe you manage to engage neutrally with all those trigger-happy hotheads," Madeline said, her arms crossed and her gaze sharp, "If I were in your shoes, I would have every single cop thrown off the force before my second cup of morning coffee."
Sharon ran the tap and moved the vase under the spray of water, watching the water fill up the transparent container. She answered Madeline with a dry tone, "I think you are being a bit too narrow-minded in your view of the LAPD; not every police officer is a trigger-happy hothead."
"I haven't yet met one officer decent enough to warrant another description," Madeline fired back.
Sharon lifted her eyebrow and gave the other woman a wry glance, "I should feel offended."
Madeline approached Sharon in a slow, measured gait, the red-head's smile only widening in some form of perverse pleasure. "Oh, you – Captain Sharon Raydor – are in a category for yourself, entirely."
Sharon pretended she didn't see the smug smile in the lawyer's expression, her eyes once again on the bouquet of roses, fitting in her glass vase without a trim. They were gorgeous.
When Sharon turned around, the vase with the bouquet in her arms, Madeline stood in front of her.
The red-head, in another surprising gesture, bypassed the roses and molded her mouth with Sharon's in a kiss.
The kiss turned into something else; different in the way it spiraled through Sharon's body, her stomach like the string of a violin being drawn, vibrations quivering with anticipation and fulfillment.
It continued with the same breath of anticipation that tingled throughout Sharon's entire body, the same momentum that usually painted desperation but in the presence of Madeline it only became passion – affection and desire, playfully mingled.
Sharon quickly put the vase on the kitchen counter, her free hands slipping around Madeline's neck and her fingers meeting at the woman's nape.
"I brought massage oil," the lawyer breathed, cocky voice.
"I can see that," Sharon retorted, her own voice deep.
Madeline then slipped her palms under Sharon's shirt, a hard grasp around Sharon's hips that brought them closer; hips against hips, breasts flush against breasts albeit clothed.
"I want to fuck you here, in your kitchen."
The crass words only fluttered in Sharon's lower abdomen, promising and enticing.
"I'd like that," Sharon nodded, her breath caught in her throat when the other woman easily slipped the button to Sharon's jeans out of its hole, and then drew the zipper down.
Madeline brought Sharon to the edge first; the lawyer made sure Sharon came first, the other woman's fingers keen against Sharon's sex, titillating as digits slid into her center, the motion on the cusp of being rough, and then slick, wet, fingers easily caressed Sharon's clit, unbearable tension that sprung up so quickly it astounded her.
Madeline made her come embarrassingly quick.
So, maybe the concept of flowers only seemed foreign and peculiar because when Sharon thought about it, she couldn't remember the last time someone had brought her flowers. Madeline brought with her an entirely new perspective, which in hindsight Sharon knew was peculiar because the concept of love, in this guise and in this form, was foreign to her.
There was attentiveness, fondness and lust, mixed together till she couldn't distinct one from the other.
With Madeline there was not even a residue of the boredom, the feeling of inadequacy that Sharon had become used to with her separated husband. Jack rarely understood the underlying purpose of love, too engrossed with himself.
The red-head felt like a reprieve.
…
"I'm thinking of divorce," Sharon said in a curious voice that Madeline was sure held too much emotion and yet seemed peculiarly uninflected.
"Not because of me," Madeline teased with a chuckle, running a hand over the woman's hips and down one buttock, squeezing.
Sharon smiled secretively, another smile that would take days to interpret. The woman always turned out to be a mystery when Madeline thought she had figured every facet out.
"I want to adopt Rusty – if he wants to."
"Your foster son?"
The woman nodded.
"That makes sense," Madeline mused, "if you want to adopt the boy on your own without any involvement from Jack."
Sharon's voice turned low, "I don't want Jack anywhere near Rusty. I don't want that connection – not to Rusty, and not to me anymore."
"I see," Madeline replied, not sure how to react to this news. Instead she trailed her hand up and down Sharon's hip again.
Sharon rearranged herself, one leg sneaking more profoundly between Madeline's legs, breasts more firmly pushed into Madeline and that arm snug even more firmly around Madeline's waist. Madeline gave in to the gesture and edged closer to the other woman, tangling their legs further, naked skin against naked skin.
"So, does this mean you will be free? Completely free this time, I mean?" Madeline asked, nuzzling her lips close to Sharon's shoulder.
"I have always been free."
Madeline smiled to herself, "To an extent, yes. But you have to admit, Sharon, that your so-called marriage has always been in your way. Legally as well as emotionally."
Sharon remained silent.
"Like a dead weight."
Sharon breathed too sharply at the comment.
Madeline kissed her lover's shoulder again to soothe the harsh words, her hand tightening around Sharon's hand, nestled between their bodies.
"It's always easier to pick apart your decisions in hindsight," Sharon mumbled, the words sounding unsure.
Madeline nodded against the woman's shoulder, "Which is why the present is so much more appealing than picking apart your past. You made the best of a horrible thing. Jack's the one missing out – per usual."
Sharon squeezed Madeline's hand back.
"I guess this is another event I have yet to celebrate with you," Madeline chuckled, trying to bring forth a bit of humor.
"I thought tonight was all about celebrating my promotion," Sharon retorted and Madeline was sure the woman was smiling, "however many times we seem to have celebrated it already."
Madeline hummed, "I look forward to celebrating you being promoted to commander one day. You know, a real promotion to celebrate, and not simply you being transferred to the goon squad."
Sharon smiled warm and soft, "Oh, I would love to celebrate that."
"I just want you to command me around in the bedroom, that's all," Madeline teased.
"If you say so, counselor."
Sharon's mouth was warm and smiling when she kissed Madeline.
…