There was a serial killer attacking couples that visited S&M clubs in Livermore, and this was the only club where no one had been attacked. So far. The killer always picked on girl/guy couples, which narrowed down who they could send in.
Lisbon excused herself from going undercover, Jane was too well-known, so Rigsby and Cho had to draw straws for who got to be the guy. Rigsby lost, and he's sure it's all Jane's fault and that he tricked him somehow. He's not sure how, but he knows it was done.
He volunteers to go in as the underdressed masochist in this couple, reasoning that Van Pelt would be uncomfortable enough already without have to wear very little. Instead, he's the one in a mesh muscle t-shirt and pleather trousers. The trousers feel awkward on and he's feels a blush coming on because he knows people can see his nipples. And she's standing right next to him.
She looks wonderful.
It's unbearable.
He's a grown man, and he knows he should be coping better than this, especially as this club is too classy to have people actually having sex out in the open, but the atmosphere is full with people who want to have sex, and it's very seductive. He's supposed to be concentrating on the job and all he can think about is wanting to have sex with Van Pelt.
Jane cracking wise at the table means he can't. Because if they did, everyone else would know. Not that they probably wouldn't have guessed anyway, but he at least tried to be discreet. Jane had also left him a lot to live up to.
He wants to try living up to it, though, he wants to see if Van Pelt's legs are as flexible as he thinks they are, and well, his imagination hasn't caught up with his libido yet, and he mostly just wants to have lots and lots of sex.
Rigsby was very relieved when the serial killer finally decided to approach them. It was much safer than standing next to Van Pelt while thinking all of this, and having a terrible feeling that Jane, on the other end of the wire, knew exactly what he was thinking.
Lisbon excused herself from going undercover, Jane was too well-known, so Rigsby and Cho had to draw straws for who got to be the guy. Rigsby lost, and he's sure it's all Jane's fault and that he tricked him somehow. He's not sure how, but he knows it was done.
He volunteers to go in as the underdressed masochist in this couple, reasoning that Van Pelt would be uncomfortable enough already without have to wear very little. Instead, he's the one in a mesh muscle t-shirt and pleather trousers. The trousers feel awkward on and he's feels a blush coming on because he knows people can see his nipples. And she's standing right next to him.
She looks wonderful.
It's unbearable.
He's a grown man, and he knows he should be coping better than this, especially as this club is too classy to have people actually having sex out in the open, but the atmosphere is full with people who want to have sex, and it's very seductive. He's supposed to be concentrating on the job and all he can think about is wanting to have sex with Van Pelt.
Jane cracking wise at the table means he can't. Because if they did, everyone else would know. Not that they probably wouldn't have guessed anyway, but he at least tried to be discreet. Jane had also left him a lot to live up to.
He wants to try living up to it, though, he wants to see if Van Pelt's legs are as flexible as he thinks they are, and well, his imagination hasn't caught up with his libido yet, and he mostly just wants to have lots and lots of sex.
Rigsby was very relieved when the serial killer finally decided to approach them. It was much safer than standing next to Van Pelt while thinking all of this, and having a terrible feeling that Jane, on the other end of the wire, knew exactly what he was thinking.
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