Beginnings
Maggie strolled into Sasha's office, "You ready?"
Sasha sat her desk transforming her daytime look to night. Black winged liner, extra mascara and full matte red lip. Her freshly washed hair had spent the day in twists and conservatively secured in a bun was loose releasing the aroma of Shea butter Daryl loved. She stood to switch from her suit blazer to a metallic-silver cropped motorcycle jacket over her grey mock turtleneck deep cut sleeveless sweater dress. The red suede pump with pencil thin leather laces criss-crossed the top of her foot and tied just above her ankle finished her look. Maggie shook her head, "I almost feel bad for Daryl."
The last call on the shift for Rick and Rosita was grueling. They returned to the station with three suspects and a long list of witnesses. "Rosita, Processing is backed up. Why don't you clock out and I will handle things here," Rick stated.
"Thank you Sir but we're equal partners. Don't treat me like a girl."
"Wouldn't dream of it-I am treating you like a partner I respect who showed initiative and extraordinary follow through this week."
By the time the final suspect was in a holding cell there was only 15 minutes left before the Mixer began. While showering with sandalwood soap Rick adjusted his routine in the locker room. After calculating drive time and DA Monroe's speech…he decided to forgo a shave. He would have a slight five o'clock shadow but what harm could that be on a Friday night.
He pulled up the black flat front pocket slacks, pulled on the navy blue French cuff dress shirt which he tucked and secured with the Italian leather belt that matched the slip on black ankle boot the tailor swore would make his lady swoon. Rick added the simple black stud cuff links and a bit of product to his towel dried hair. What he saw in the mirror didn't quite look like him so he unfastened the first two buttons of his shirt. He cruised to the Mixer with James Brown as his only companion.
This is a man's world…but it wouldn't be nothing…
Rick entered the venue as Michonne reached her closing remarks thanking all agencies and vowing that their continued collaboration would make Kings' County the jewel of Georgia. Attendees were cheering and clapping with zeal. He was so happy for her. She made her way from the podium in her crisp, feminine, black suit shaking hands, engaging in small talk with an enthusiastic smile that never faltered. He decided to retreat to the bar. He slid onto the bar stool when a familiar face appeared-Lori.
"Hey stranger, what brings you out tonight?" she eagerly engaged.
"Oh, um the new ADA of course," he replied.
"Yeah, she seems good and Judge Blake really likes her…from what I've seen," Lori prattles on without noticing the tensing of his jaw.
Rick turns to get the attention of the bartender. The young man approaches and Lori placed her hand on his arm, "Buy a girl a drink?" she asks hopefully.
He turns his head and gently removes her hand, "Lori, I don't think that's a good idea."
"Oh," she's embarrassed, "I didn't see Jessie so…"
"This isn't about someone else. That chapter of our lives is over and has been for a long time," he states firmly.
Lori is about to push back against the finality of his statement when the bartender interrupts. "You are Officer Grimes?"
"Yes, Rick Grimes."
"Cool, I was told that you are only allowed to drink from this exclusive bottle of Blue Label Johnny Walker."
Rick's eyes dance with devilish delight. "Far be it from me to not follow instructions," he and the bartender share a laugh. Lori glares back and forth between the two men. Rick brings the glass up to inhale the aroma and then takes a sip. Damn I got a good woman.
He doesn't need to say a word the bartender offers, "You are my new hero."
Another laugh rumbles through his chest, "I'm going to savor this but I will be back before the night is over. Lori, enjoy your evening," gathering himself from the bar stool and moving into the crowd.
Daryl is moving through the crowd slowly. He knows she's there and if he could see her he could sleep for once this week. He wore her favorite black button down shirt and new black jeans in the size she said hugged his ass just right. He's about to give up the search when his phone vibrates. The text reads: Your hot…turn to the left.
He turns slowly and his body does everything short of fainting. His breathing quickens and his skin is flushed. Sasha is at a high top table wearing the motorcycle jacket he bought her during a weekend road trip and red laces surround and cross the ankles he adores. She uses her finger to call him over. He pushes himself into the chair across from her placing his hand with the phone on the table and the other hand on his denim clad thigh.
She uses her finger to trace circles on his hand. "I missed you something fierce this week," she whispers. Daryl can only nod up and down. "I hope we can make some time to talk when this event is over."
"Of course Sweetheart."
She glides off the chair when he stops her with a hand at her hip. She moves closer as his grip tightens, "I really am sorry."
Sasha kisses the tip of his nose, "I really do forgive you." He closes his eyes to savor the feel of her lips on his skin once again.
Michonne has spent the past 45 minutes as a well behaved public servant. She enters the bathroom, opens her sleek clutch and retrieves her deep purple matte lip color and applies a coat to her full lips, re-touches her eyeliner to remove smudges and presses both hands against her intricately woven locks styled at the crown of her head. She uses her perfume roller to freshen her fragrance. Finally, she removes the work appropriate blazer to reveal her strapless corset dress. The matte black eye-hook fasteners on the front of the dress create enticing cleavage without being obscene. She exits the bathroom and makes her way to the bar after a quick stop at coat check.
Sasha and Maggie greet her, "To the lady of the hour!" and hand her a glass of red wine. They are joined by Rosita who is clearly buzzed. "Look here, I love y'all but I need to let go and Officer Ford volunteered to be my designated driver," she motions over her shoulder. She hugs Michonne, "Congrats," and saunters out the front doors.
Glenn leans against the wall and places his hands in his pockets. Maggie places her goblet on the bar, "Text me about brunch," before heading in his direction.
Rick is watching Michonne across the room trying desperately to get his lust under control. They met in her office while she hid that dick torture device called a dress under a blazer. He loves her shoulders and those breasts are sirens calling him home. Daryl approaches the pair at the bar and stands protectively behind and to the left of Sasha. Rick smiles because all is forgiven. He didn't think his friend could survive another week. They make sense together. She is a little sharper and he is a little softer.
He moves along the edge of the crowd and approaches the group. Aaron had joined at some point and greets him, "Officer Grimes you made it," he exclaims. Rick slides up on the bar stool beside Michonne, but her back is facing him.
"Of course, we want ADA Anthony to feel welcome," he drawls out.
She can hear the whisky in his tone and spins slowly to face him. What she sees nearly knocks her off the stool. This man is pure testosterone. "I think we are officially off the clock, please call me Michonne," she responds because she needs to hear her name in that whisky laced tone from those lips.
"Michonne, are you enjoying your special night?"
"I am, but to be honest it's been an amazing week and I can't wait to see what the future holds," she flirts waving the bartender over. They don't take their eyes off each other, "Can you get Rick another glass please?"
The bartender stares at her and pours another glass. He looks at Rick. "Do you teach a class…'cause wow."
"No, Rick chuckles, just in the right place at the right time." He leans into her, "What do I owe you for the drinks tonight?" he offers in his slow Southern drawl.
"Hmm, she pretends to ponder, a taste."
Rick slides the glass to her along the bar. "No, I want the Grimes Edition directly from your lips and off your tongue. Drink up." She glides off the bar stool and makes her way back into the group of attendees.
Shane nurses a beer watching the exchange at the bar. He isn't surprised. Rick Grimes always wins. His private, bitter, pity party is interrupted by a tipsy Lori. "Hey Shane," she slurs.
"Lori, I think you need to have a seat."
She falls into the chair and blows her bangs away from her face. "Remember high school Shane? We were so happy."
"You were happy Lori," he clarifies.
"I was…I was head cheerleader and homecoming queen. I should be a soccer mom re-modeling the kitchen. Where did I go wrong?"
"You picked the wrong guy."
"Come on Shane. You're great at benefits and the sneaking added a spark but you don't want to be the guy." She's drunk and oblivious to the impact of her words.
"I could be someone's guy. I don't need Rick's sloppy, drunk hand me down," he stands abruptly and leaves her at the table. Realizing what she just said she decides to call it a night.
Michonne reaches DA Monroe, "Thank you for hosting such a lovely evening."
"My pleasure, I think we're going to make a great team."
"There are some initiatives I would like to discuss with you in the upcoming weeks but for now I think I will call it a night."
"Agreed, my Reggie is waiting for the all clear sign," she throws over her shoulder.
Sasha stood from the stool, "I'm going to call it a night-Rick, nice to see you again."
"You too Sasha," he watched the couple engage in a silent exchange.
Once Sasha reached her car she texted Daryl: Meet me at my place in 20 minutes. She had a 15 minute drive to figure out how much she wanted and needed to know. Entering her loft she threw her jacket and purse on the over sized tufted chair. In her room she pulled off her dress and sat on the bed to remove her shoes. Rummaging through her drawer she found a fitted tee and a pair of running shorts.
In her kitchen she retrieved her favorite vegetable chips and the Ziploc bag of his jerky. She placed her hand on the refrigerator door as the doorbell chimed. Daryl entered cautiously after she opened the door. He felt awkward standing in the entry way until, "All is forgiven. You know the drill." He removed his boots and placed his jacket on the special hook inside her coat closet. He entered the living room and sunk into the center of the couch extending both arms along the back. Like clockwork she came from the kitchen with a bowl of her favorite snack and a bag of his. She slid into the left corner, swung both legs over his left thigh and tucked her feet under his right one. Nothing will ever feel this right.
"What do I need…no, what do you want me to know?"
"The group is the standard anti-government, black helicopters and racists moving guns across state lines; plotting to take over federal land. I am still under in case they take the land. The evidence on the guns is air tight. I'm a truck driver so I don't have to explain so much about gaps in time. They know me as Merle Dixon."
"Why place yourself in harm's way?" There was more to his involvement than he was sharing.
He raised his right arm and used his hand to caress her left leg. "Ain't a Dixon been born that didn't create hate or destruction…I thought maybe doing this could make up for all that wrong."
She gasps, "When we met…you said tell them Dixon be back. You were protecting me."
"I never thought it would be more than the memory of you on the back of my bike. I didn't like lying but if you didn't have any information you couldn't be considered a threat."
She placed the bowl on the coffee table, un-tucked her feet and nestled into his lap and placed her hand on his chest. "Your heart is too big for this world. Tell me how to take care of you when you are gone?"
"I know you're ready to go public but 'til I'm out we can't. Even the possibility of you at risk will pull my focus."
"Sure… we never discussed," she insincerely stutters.
He lifts her chin, "Sweetheart, all that food ain't about lunch or my diet."
Burying her face in her hands she releases a groan of embarrassment. "It was an out of body experience. I was in line and those women were going on and on, she's twirling her fingers in a circle, about what you would eat and what they wanted to feed you," she's using air quotes. "Next thing I knew I was ordering for two and driving to the station." She hears his laughter and joins in shaking her head as she remembers her jealous tantrum.
Sliding his hand up her thigh, "Tell you what, when this operation is over I'll put you on the back of my bike and we can ride through town being dirty. Maybe get arrested."
Sasha grabs a pillow and starts whacking away at his arms and head. "That is you showing off for your Boys."
Michonne returned to the bar carrying her jacket and purse. Rick hadn't moved. He slowly sipped his whisky, hooded eyes fixated on the serpentine roll and sway of her hips. Once she reached the bar she waved the bartender over, "I believe you have something that belongs to me," turning her eyes to Rick.
The bartender placed the bottle on the bar and she handed him a large tip, "Thanks, I have a private tasting to attend." The bartender turned to Rick and raised his fist, "Good luck."
"Yeah," returning the demonstration of respect with a bump. By the time Rick reached the parking lot he received a text from Michonne-her address. He made his way across town in a lust filled haze.
Michonne drove to the very back of her drive way. She hated the detached garage when she first moved in, but now it was an asset. Neither car would be seen from the street. She followed the stepping stones up the back porch and entered through the back door. The sexual tension was almost unmanageable but she made a decision about how far things would go and Goddess as her witness she wasn't crossing every line tonight. The sound of him engaging his car alarm brought her down the hall. She opened the front door and leaned against the frame holding the bottle in her right hand along the side of her body.
Rick moved across the front stepping stones and took her front porch steps two at a time. Once he reached the front door he used his right arm to remove the bottle from her hand and used his left arm to pick her up at her waist. "I believe you requested a private tasting?" he reminded drinking straight from the bottle.
Her lips were parted and her chest was already heaving. She moved her head up and down. Rick walked them into the house and kicked the door closed. "Are you always this living testament of virility?" she asked stroking his stubble.
"I don't even know what that means?" he drawls searching for a chair or sofa. His eyes find the latter when he turns to the right.
"I've never seen your face like this before."
"Hmm, weekends sometimes. I can tell by the look in your eyes I won't be shaving for awhile."
She kisses his neck and purrs seductively in his ear, "I bet your stubble will feel so good rubbing against my breasts."
He lowers them to the couch, placing the bottle on the table as she glides her legs over his thighs. They stare at each other committing this moment to memory because everything after will be different. They bring their mouths together slowly with a chaste, lingering kiss. They part their lips and angle their heads increasing the pressure of the kiss. They add the firm tips of tongues as the heat of the kiss increases with roving hands and moans of delight. Soon their mouths are open and they're offering tongues and relishing in the feel and taste of each other laced with whiskey.
Her delicate fingers tangle in his silken strands and incorrigible curls. His roughened hands grasp and squeeze her waist and ass. Soon his hand is moving up her dress between her thighs and he releases a primal growl and she a lust filled gasp as he touches her dripping center, "Woman, where are your damn panties?" rising off her just far enough to see her face.
"In your mouth-isn't that what you said on the phone," she's cut off by his long fingers firm entry into her core. Michonne moves her hands down and unbuckles his belt and slides her hand into his boxers tight against his hot throbbing shaft. They are caught in a sex frenzy of smacking lips, coiled tongues, his fingers deep in her pussy coated with her nectar and her hand slicked with his pre-cum stroking his dick and massaging his balls. It is all at once too much and not enough.
Rick is growling and Michonne is moaning incomprehensible fragments of words and phrases as they ascend together until he shifts and curls his finger make her a crazed, shrieking mess falling apart underneath him. He watches as she trembles removing his fingers and tasting her for the first time. After seconds or minutes her sanity returns. "Wait, I need to take care of you," she exhales from her scratchy throat.
"Not tonight-trust me…I want out first time to be a reflection of all that I feel for you."
"But clearly we are comfortable doing other things," she winks at him.
He laughs, "We are and we're damn good at it, but I spent half the night picturing all the ways I could tear you out of that dress with my bare hands. I have to worship you with dates, notes, candy and surprises. This is different and I need you to trust that."
Michonne looks up with tears glistening in her eyes. "Whoa, I am not rejecting you."
"I know, I've never felt so wanted in my life," she sighs.
"Good, he kisses her forehead tenderly, then my work is done and I need to leave before I lose blood flow to my brain again." They fall into easy laughter. They untangle from each other and Michonne attempts to stand on weak legs missing one shoe. Rick uses his hands to steady her as she kicks off her remaining shoe.
"I can feel the smug smile on your face."
"I am sure I have no idea what you are talking about." They walk to the front door holding hands, fingers intertwined.
"Text me when you get home," she reminds turning to face him.
He takes her face in his hand and kisses her slowly and softly, "Of course. I want to hear the door lock behind me-okay."
"Okay."
Michonne is freshly showered and warm under the covers when she receives his text. She begins to giggle as she reads his unexpected message: Be ready by 3:00 pm tomorrow. Dress casual.