The shopping trip started out uncomfortable.
Maura drove to her favorite bra supplier, Goldstein & Karlsson, which was far out of Jane's league money-wise and also far out of her comfort zone. This establishment usually catered exclusively to the rich or hugely-busted and Jane fit neither category. She was pretty sure that she was the first customer to walk in sporting a towel and a dog collar but no money. It was airy, spacious and tastefully decorated with artificial flowers and hand-painted silk accents on the walls. Jane felt she fit in like an oily diesel engine.
Maura took the lead, explaining to the assistant that her friend had gotten soaked in blood while dealing with a suspect, and now she needed a quality replacement bra and a number of matching panties. Jane once again felt the tingling sensation when Maura referred to her as a friend while implying much much more, and the companion tingle when the person Maura was talking to filled in the blanks and looked at Jane with varying degrees of lust and awe. This could potentially get annoying, but it was very flattering and a pretty strong turn-on. She was so distracted by the bit of role-play that it took her a moment to realize that Maura had more or less intimated that she had beaten someone to a pulp.
Maura sent Jane into a roomy apricot-pastel booth ("Go in and stay! Goood girl.") and the assistant reappeared with four different black bras and a fistful of matching panties for each in various cuts. None of them had a price tag and both Maura and the assistant refused to tell Jane. In the end she selected one that was comfortable and not too heavy on the lace or embroidery. Maura told Jane to evidence-bag her old panties and handed her a new pair. While Jane grumbled and complied Maura chatted with the assistant and asked her to give Maura's regards to Miss Goldstein. Jane reflected that of course Maura would know the owner personally while she pulled on her jeans again and noted that they were covered in street crud on the back after her lie-down in the alley. Probably another first in this boutique. She stepped out wearing the selected bra and both Maura and the assistant nodded in agreement, though the assistant looked shocked by the amount of bruising and old scars.
"Maybe we should look at something in leather as well? It would match the collar nicely." The sales assistant sounded helpful and eager to please. Maura actually considered it while Jane furrowed her brow.
"The collar is just temporary."
"Why? It looks great on you." Jane tried to come up with a sensible reply, and failed. Then she wondered just what conclusions the assistant had drawn from her collection of bruises. She pulled on the jacket over the bra and the assistant took a step back and fanned herself. Maura smiled her million-watt smile. Jane zipped the jacket all the way while giving the assistant a medium squint.
"So, we head for the cash register?"
"Of course not, they'll add it to my bill. We head to a store to buy you a shirt. Even if I think you look fine like this, I'm guessing Cavanaugh would not approve."
The assistant muttered "better than fine" while bagging the rest of the underwear. Jane marched towards the door, feeling a need for cool air, and Maura trailed behind smiling like she'd received the best compliment in weeks and carrying the stylish shop bag containing a BPD lab towel, four fresh panties and one used pair sealed in an evidence bag.
Once they were back in the prius Jane wanted a distraction, mostly to take her mind off the fact that she suddenly felt half naked in just bra and jacket even if nobody could see. The assistant's hot flash had unnerved her a little.
"People are very laid-back about our fictional relationship. You'd think that someone would get upset about you ordering me around like that."
"Why? Most of them have never met us together before, and they obviously assume we are a couple enjoying a bit of role-play."
"And you feel that would be something we would try?"
"I do. Especially since we're actually doing it right now." Maura smiled.
Before Jane could process this and come up with a coherent response they stopped in front of a black shopfront with painted-over windows and the single word "SHOCK" scrawled in red over the entire front of the building.
"Are you taking me to a porn shop to buy a shirt?"
"Don't be silly, I would never take you to a porn shop to buy a work shirt. Shock caters to rock stars and rock fans. I have the perfect idea." They went in. The shop interior was like a mostly black kaleidoscope. There were smatterings of color on clothes with a 50's styling, on some shoes and on a riot of aloha shirts but at least half the stock was in shades of black. Jane stared at kilts covered in rivets and a leather tuxedo while Maura went into a labyrinth of T-shirt racks and came back with a black shirt with a huge white print of a band logo. It was a drawing of a face that was all concentrated rage, and a single word curved over it: MOTORHEAD, complete with heavy metal umlaut.
"Why do you want to put me in a monster T-shirt, and who are Motorhead?"
"A timeless English metal band. They are very good. You should do a duet with their singer, the two of you would sound awesome together. I will make a note of it for karaoke night."
"You listen to metal? Who knew. And the specific reason for choosing Motorhead is...?"
"The way you drive. Admit it, the name fits. You should know I listen to anything made by interesting creators regardless of genre. Heavy metal is structurally no different than Stockhausen."
"You think Cavanaugh is going to accept this as workplace attire?"
"The shirt is no problem compared to the collar. I'll handle Cavanaugh, you just get back to work."
"This is the longest day of my life. I can't wait to get home and relax."
"I only promise that we'll get home to my place, we'll see about relaxation. Let's ring this pretty thing up."
"You don't have a running tab here?"
"Do you want me to set one up?"
"Forget that I said anything. Let's get out of here before you buy me a corset or something." Jane's mind strayed for a moment to fond memories of their evening undercover at Merch. Maura had a corset-friendly figure. In fact it was generally friendly to all things.
"Would you like a corset? It's a very attractive look."
"I prefer them on you." This time Jane actually halted in surprise at her own words. She had answered on auto-pilot, all the damn chaos held her off-balance and she kept blurting things out without thinking. She did a facepalm and took a deep breath.
"I'll add that to the long list of things I've learned today. This has been a very productive day, I must say."
"Your mileage may vary. For me it's been wall-to-wall trouble."
Maura paid for the shirt, and the terminally bored teenage girl behind the counter looked at Jane like dirt-covered women sporting dog collars were an everyday occurrence. Considering the clientele, maybe it was.
Jane got into the back seat of the prius to wriggle out of the jacket and into the shirt while en route back to Cop Central. Maura struggled to keep her eyes on the road and failed miserably but still avoided hitting other traffic. As they got out of the car Jane and Maura discovered that the new bra, unlike her usual sports bras, was designed to project and support rather than confine and restrain. The shirt, although her normal size, was a lot tighter than expected in some places. The unzipped jacket hung very differently compared to this morning. This brand-new elephant in the room joined the already established herd unmentioned.
They walked into the morgue and were greeted by a whimper from Susie who excused herself and sprinted for the break room to pick up coffee and her lost composure. By now Jane was finally desensitized to odd reactions and chalked all of them up to sartorial trauma. Tomorrow things would be back to normal. Most things. Hopefully.
Maura scanned the bloodwork report and declared Jane un-poisoned by Holter blood and Jane headed for the elevators to return to the homicide floor. Frost was in the bullpen, toying with his cufflinks while reading reports about the early morning delivery men and looking annoyingly crisp in contrast to Jane.
"Has Holter been brought in yet?"
"Bronwyn came in with him about fifteen minutes ago."
"Who the hell is Bronwyn?"
"The officer you signed on as assisting the arrest?"
"Ah, Assman. I had no idea his name was Bronwyn."
"You call him Assman?"
"Yeah. Don't ask."
"I don't have to, I can figure it out on my own. Also, you seem to have grown a size or three since lunch?" Frost kept his eyes locked on her face, but they both knew where his mind was going.
"My normal underwear was stolen by the minions in the lab. I don't think this day can get any stranger now." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Is he down in holding or have you brought him up?"
"Bronwyn pulled him in here directly to save time, but I think he mostly wanted a word with you. Korsak is warming Holter up right now. Wanna go in and be bad cop?"
"You bet. I have a head start, I've already broken his nose. I'll just make a call and I'll be right in." Jane sent a text to Maura: 'Guy who hit me is in interro. Tune in if you wanna see.' Then she made herself a big mug of coffee and brought it into the interrogation room. Korsak and Frost were already seated opposite Holter, and Jane leaned against the wall. Since she had physically struck the suspect she would not be part of the interrogation until she had been cleared of all suspicions of wrongdoing, but she could stand there like a gargoyle and intimidate as long as she didn't interact with him.
Holter was wearing pink crocs over a white tyvek suit that made papery rustling noises any time he moved or breathed. He watched Jane with wary eyes, obviously expecting more violence. He had a nice double black eye and his nose was covered in a lump of white surgical tape, making him look like the world's most charmless panda. Jane leafed through the after-action-report from the hospital and got confirmation that the nose was broken and he had a bump on the back of his head from landing on his skull as he went down. Mass general had dosed him with something with a long name to clear his head of recreational chemicals, with a footnote that mild paranoia and nervousness was a common side-effect from the combination.
He was squinting at her collar.
"Who owns this bitch?"
"That would be Miss M, and I'm telling you with complete honesty that you do not want her to get her hands on you." Korsak sounded like he was describing Jack the Ripper. "Detective Rizzoli here is the nice half of the pair. Miss M has her wrapped around her little finger." Holter looked up at the almost-snarling Detective Rizzoli and made a quick estimate what the owner could be like. No, he would probably not want to meet her.
"I have nothing to say. And Miss M or not, you aren't allowed to beat confessions out of people."
"We would never beat you, Holter. It's not our style."
"So what does this M do, then?"
"She gets information out of people, not confessions. She doesn't have to hit anyone to do that. These aren't the dark ages, we have tools for these things now."
"For what things?"
"Whatever she needs. Frost, do you remember what that guy Grady looked like when Miss M was done with him?"
"Oh god, don't remind me. Please." Frost was suddenly shiny with cold sweat. Holter watched him with a puzzled expression.
"...The way his chest looked like he had sort of collapsed in on himself..."
"Whulpf!" Frost grabbed the trash basket and threw up loudly. Holter recoiled. There was no way that was fake. Whatever this nameless psycho had done was bad enough to make a hardened detective toss his cookies just thinking about it. Holter wanted no part of this. He was going to answer any questions they asked, as fast as he could. He looked up at the rocker girl with the spiked collar and wondered what she saw in someone that twisted.
- R&I -
Maura sat in front of her computer, watching the delayed feed from the cameras in interrogation and enjoying the mind tricks Korsak played on the suspect. She was not happy that he abused Frost's delicate stomach to bolster her reputation, but she quite liked being portrayed as a badass for once. Korsak wasn't really lying, nobody wanted to end up on her tables and Grady had fallen off an overpass down onto cement and was a bit shapeless from the start. When she was finished with the autopsy he was shapeless with big stitches. Not a pretty sight, but not all her fault either.
She leaned back in her chair and focused on Jane, thinking hard about this day and how everything stayed slightly out of balance. The collar gift had either backfired spectacularly or delivered beyond her wildest expectations, she couldn't tell.
In a few hours they would be going back to Maura's house, where a number of topics would be on the agenda. All of them had been off-limits as recently as yesterday, more than half of them were of a sexual nature. In just one day they had moved the previous safe lines of conduct so far that their old habits seemed a distant memory.
She decided to push ahead as far as possible, since this was a Cinderella day. Once the collar was off there was a risk that Regular Jane would try to retreat into safety again, and Maura was not willing to go along with that. Onward ever, backward never. Maura wanted Jane in her life, 24/7, and that included in her bed and not just while sleeping. Her examination of Jane's discarded underwear from the bra shop indicated that Jane would approve of the idea.
Chapter note:
"Goldstein" is a real person, who I had to write out of the story to comply with the rules. "Karlsson" is an ex-boss who I miss.
The T-shirt is the classic "Motorhead England", minus "England" to not offend people in the ex-colonies...