A/N: A few of you asked for a continuation to this story, so here it is :)
"Yes?"
Regina barks down the receiver after a single ring of the telephone on her desk. She finds herself short of temper this morning, despite slipping beneath the plush luxury of her sheets and feeling immensely satisfied with herself not eight hours ago.
It's the dreams.
Full colour, exhausting, sweat-ridden dreams, in which there had been plenty of crying out and moaning while thrashing limbs had thrown shadows across the walls.
She had awoken clad in a fine sheen of perspiration with the covers kicked restlessly down the bed and her underwear sordidly damp.
Wanting...
And that's not how this was supposed to go.
No.
Not how this was supposed to go at all.
She was supposed to teach the Sheriff a lesson.
Make her pay.
Instead, despite the Swan woman's dopey grin and slight blush when she'd stormed into the station, Emma had seemed peculiarly unfazed...
Had, in fact, inquired whether she would like a drink, before simply apologising for her behaviour the previous evening with little further coercion or argument after her initial outrage at the intrusion.
Yes.
The little bitch had simply grinned.
No... Not how this was supposed to go at all...
Growling irritably as she clenches her thighs together, the Mayor pulls a harried hand through her hair as she listens to the whining of the useless reporter crackling through the earpiece of the handset; rolling her eyes as he begins his speech with an excuse.
Offering a theatrical sigh wrought with frustration, she snaps back at him with more venom than usual.
"What do you mean you can't bring me the papers I need?... I see... And why don't you have them?... Right... I see... Well, what does she need with them?... Is that so?... Right... No... No matter... It seems if I want things done right, I must do them myself!"
She drops the receiver back into its cradle with unnecessary abruptness and a disdainful sniff; perturbed by the information Sydney has relayed to her.
The papers she needs - papers pertaining to city funding, and thus having absolutely nothing to do with the sorry excuse the town currently has for law enforcement - had been requested for viewing not more than half an hour ago.
Requested by none other than the ever-bothersome Sheriff herself.
Full lips thinning into an irritable line, Regina sighs as she casts her gaze towards the window and watches a pair of robins bicker amongst the fallen leaves that litter her lawn.
"You have no business with those papers..."
She mutters, but then, she knows this. Just as she is sure Emma herself knows this, which begs the question of just what the younger woman thinks she's up to meddling in political affairs.
"I suppose we're about to find out..."
She sighs, rising to fetch her coat.
She's no fool, and she knows full well that the blonde's request for the specific documents she needs will have absolutely nothing to do with a budding interest in Storybrooke's economy, but she is also curious; Emma rarely one to propose such obvious bait.
At least, so she had believed...
The younger woman's sudden, coy flirtation the other night leaves her a little unsure as to just how close the Sheriff might sometimes wear her wants and emotions to the surface.
Slipping into tailored wool, she pauses for just a moment to assess and approve her reflection in the mirror, before stalking from the room with a swift swipe of her keys from within the depths of her pocket.
"Sheriff?"
The brunette's sultry greeting resonates off the bare walls of the station, and the blonde hides a smirk as she detects the sharp tap of expensive heels creating a vexed crescendo down the hallway. Turning towards the artillery of regimented grey filing cabinets that stand behind her desk, she pulls a yellowed file out without even glancing at its title and begins to leaf through its contents as she senses the looming shadow the Mayor casts become flesh.
"Regina?"
Bored, lazy, uninterested.
Her lip twitches as she catches the low thrum of fury this simple utterance earns her.
Making no move to turn around, she simply places the file in her hands back into the drawer and reaches for another at random.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"What do you think you're doing?"
Regina demands coldly.
"I'm sorry?"
"The tax forms... Why did you request that Mr Glass let you take them?"
"I have a perfect right to do so. I made no breach of contract by simply asking to-"
"-You have a right, Miss Swan, but why, I wonder, might you have the will? What interest is city finance to you?"
"Oh, I have a broad spectrum of interests, Madam Mayor."
The blonde replies coquettishly, and Regina glowers as she can practically hear the grin in the younger woman's voice.
"Yes, well... Be that as it may, I see no plausible reason for you to request papers you know full well I need to sign today."
"... Don't you?"
The Sheriff enquires softly, and the darker woman's teeth flash with anger as the blonde remains engrossed in whatever matter graces the pages in her hands rather than offering her the floundering, flustered response to which she has grown so accustomed.
"Indeed, I don't!... Perhaps you could enlighten me?"
A husky chuckle, and the brunette cringes as this sound alone sets the hairs at the back of her neck on end, before the younger woman promptly discards the file in her hand and drops down into an easy crouch to access the bottom drawer of the cabinet closest to her desk.
She doesn't offer any form of verbal response, but then, she doesn't really need to.
Bent down the way that she is; the dark denim of her jeans rides dangerously low to expose the gentle indent of the very last vertebrae of her lower back, pale bare flesh... And silk.
Dark silk, interwoven with french lace.
Divine.
And so not her style.
Dark coals flashing as she recognises expensive the lingerie as her own, the Mayor's tone is murderously soft as she breaks the curious silence that hangs over them.
"... Are you proud of yourself, Sheriff?"
"Hmm?"
"Don't play coy with me... Your paycheck might allow for such pleasures, but your taste does not... You lured me here to put on this little display... So I ask you... Are you proud of yourself now that you have paraded your spoils for all to see?"
Her words drip spite as she concludes her sentiment; her gaze transfixed on the delicate concoction peeking out above the younger woman's jeans.
Her voice catches in her throat, and she despises the fact.
Just as she despises the thoughts that spill turbulently through her muddled mind as her sex clenches hungrily upon her sordid discovery.
Emma's low laughter in response to her accusation does little to appease the situation; the Sheriff tickled by the brunette's concluding statement.
Really, Regina? 'Parading' my spoils for all to see? Not really my style.
"Am I proud?... Well... I guess that depends..."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you tell me ... Do you like what you see?"