Two Requested Drabbles
Title: Fact and Fiction
Pairing: Kate Beckett/Ziva David
Prompt: crossover (Castle)
Recipient: magicalmongoose
Words: 1,309
Summary: The creations of Thom E Gemcity and Richard Castle have nothing on the reality.
Richard Castle and Thom E. Gemcity had never met. They simply shared a publisher. Castle noticed the photograph on the publisher's wall on the rare occasions he visited, but he didn't give it much thought. And Gemcity, NCIS Special Agent Timothy McGee in reality, had read all of Richard Castle's Derek Storm novels as research for his own novel series. McGee even had an autographed copy of the first in the series - signed to Gemcity instead of McGee - on the shelf in his writing room.
So Castle never realized the significance of the fact of Kate Beckett meeting with an NCIS liaison named Ziva David in connection to their latest case. She went alone to the meeting and shared what little information the NYPD had about their murder victim. Officer David, in return, told Beckett about the Navy lieutenant they believed to be responsible for the New York murder, as well as two murders in Virginia.
Their meeting of the minds turned into a dinner, and Beckett eventually broke the subject of working with a writer. Plied with a cocktail or two, Beckett revealed that she was the basis for Richard Castle's new main character. Ziva pointed out being a lead was better than being written as a sideline character, a love interest for the men. Beckett countered with her character's name, Nikki Heat, and Ziva conceded defeat.
After dinner, they walked together. Ziva promised NCIS would work the case concurrently with the NYPD rather than trying to overtake jurisdiction. Beckett thanked her as they walked through the twilight streets. When they reached Ziva's hotel, Beckett was reluctant to leave.
There was a street light on the corner, and they stood in the shadow cast by the hotel's awning. Beckett touched Ziva's cheek with a hand, the leather glove keeping the move from being overly intimate. Ziva turned her head, as if trying to see the hand, her hair and the shadows blocking her face. She kissed the inside of Beckett's wrist, between her glove and the sleeve of her coat, and then raised her eyes again.
They didn't need to question it; Beckett never asked to come up and Ziva never invited her. They simply turned and went into the well-lit lobby and rode the elevators up to Ziva's floor. Beckett followed Ziva into the room, casual like she'd done it thousands of times before. She waited for Ziva to take off her coat and turn to face her before making her move.
They kissed, tentatively and then attempting to assert dominance. Beckett moved Ziva backward through the hotel room. Ziva wrapped her arm around the blue-and-white scarf Beckett wore, the one Ziva had said "looked like ice" over dinner. She pulled it from around Beckett's neck and dropped it onto the bed.
Beckett let Ziva strip her of jacket and blouse, raising a hand to stop her before she could get to the pants and bra. Ziva leaned back on her elbows as Beckett climbed onto the bed, straddling Ziva and pushing her down. They kissed again and Ziva ran her hands over Beckett's exposed stomach, teasing the waistband of her pants as Beckett blindly undid the buttons of Ziva's blouse. She kissed down Ziva's neck, kissing her breasts through her black bra, and then dragged her tongue back up.
Ziva, refusing to be on the bottom longer than necessary, twisted and pinned Beckett to the mattress. Beckett smiled up at her, black hair covering her eyes like a veil, and Ziva knew she had found a worthy opponent. She pressed her thigh between Beckett's legs and rocked her entire body forward. Beckett grunted, but bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out.
Beckett grabbed the belt loops of Ziva's trousers and yanked down, only managing to expose the top curve of her ass. Ziva pushed Beckett's bra up and away, revealing a pink nipple which she bowed to kiss. Beckett squeezed Ziva's thigh with both legs, keeping her in place, and rocked her body, throwing Ziva off-balance. They twisted on the mattress and Ziva rolled around so that she was facedown on the bed.
Beckett pressed herself against Ziva's back and reached around, touching her through her pants. Ziva's body twisted underneath Beckett like a serpent and she lifted her head. Beckett kissed her and pulled Ziva's hips against her own. Ziva grunted and nipped at Beckett's bottom lip, then pushed herself up and grabbed the headboard. She looked over her shoulder again. "Do this," she whispered.
Beckett pulled away and did as Ziva requested. Ziva moved Beckett's hands so that her wrists were crossed. She retrieved Beckett's scarf and looped it around her hands. She secured Beckett to the headboard, then looked at her, their faces inches apart. Beckett was breathing heavily, her hair in her face, and she stared into Ziva's dark, soulful eyes. "Yeah," Beckett said, nodding once.
"Call me Lisa if you want to stop. All right?"
Beckett nodded again.
Ziva moved behind Beckett like a predator, her body brushing Beckett's as she moved. She rose onto her knees and molded herself to Beckett's back. She used the sides of her hands to brush along Beckett's torso, running down from shoulder to hip like twin razors. She unhooked Beckett's bra and pushed it up her arms, letting it dangle around her forearms. She ran her fingernails over Beckett's ribcage, smiling when Beckett shuddered violently at the touch, and then finally undid the button of her trousers.
Ziva dropped down onto her elbows as she pushed Beckett's pants and underwear down. She kissed the cheeks of Beckett's ass, pressed her cheek against the curve at the small of Beckett's back, and ran her tongue along Beckett's spine. Beckett arched her back as Ziva ignited the trail, pressing eagerly against her when Ziva embraced her from behind again.
Ziva put both hands between Beckett's legs, forming a diamond with her fingers. Beckett gasped and swallowed hard. Ziva touched Beckett and explored with her tongue, kissing Beckett's neck and nibbling on her earlobe. Beckett pulled at the scarf several times, but it refused to come lose. "Please, Ziva..."
Ziva moved Beckett's body with her hips, forcing Beckett against her probing fingers. Before long, Beckett was panting. Ziva held on tight, biting down on Beckett's shoulder. Ziva felt wetness on her fingers and brushed them over Beckett's clit. "Oh, God, Ziva..."
Ziva didn't stop until Beckett went limp, reluctantly pulling away from her body and reaching out to untie the scarf. When Beckett's hands were free, she twisted at the waist and pressed her lips hard against Ziva's. Their tongues fought for dominance and, this time, Beckett won. She shoved Ziva down, pinning her to the mattress, and breaking the kiss before Ziva could. Ziva kept her lips parted, her eyes closed, for a moment after Beckett retreated.
Beckett smiled down at her and swept the hair out of her face with a wave of her hand. They kissed again, gentler this time, and Beckett let her body collapse on top of Ziva's. When she broke this kiss again, Ziva said, "Now I suppose it is your turn?"
"You better believe it," Beckett said, reaching out for something.
Ziva smiled and lifted her arms above her head, crossing her arms at the wrist. "Do to me as you will."
"Not that," Beckett said, running her hand up Ziva's arm and pulling it back down. She kissed Ziva's fingers, the fingers that had moments ago been inside of her. She ran her tongue over Ziva's palm and then put her hand down.
"Then what--" Ziva started, but the question was moot. She smiled at Beckett's scarf descended over her eyes, and she lifted her head so the detective could tie the two ends together.
Obviously their night was only just beginning...
Title: Adult Professional Women
Pairing: Sam/Janet
Prompt: Fluff
Recipient: sinadino
Words: 584
Summary: Sam and Janet realize who they are and what they're doing.
Samantha Carter and Janet Fraiser were adult, professional women. Both over forty, both tops in their respective fields. They were respected by their superiors, revered by their subordinates, and trusted by their team members. They were raising a daughter together, they had a mortgage together, they were in what they called a "closet with the door standing open," quietly out to their friends and closest family. They were pillars of the community. They were to be respected.
At least that's what Sam told herself when she slid on yet another mud patch and landed flat on her ass. She swept her hand across her cheek, smearing more mud than she wiped away, and scrambled back to her feet. "Just grab his damned tail!" Sam barked.
"What tail?" Janet snapped back. She lunged, arms spread wide to wrap around the pig-dog's waist, but it was too quick. She landed facedown in the mud, wiping her face with muddy hands as Sam stepped over her prone body and tried to cut off the pig's escape. Janet spit and spluttered and rejoined the chase.
Jack O'Neill, Daniel Jackson and Teal'c leaned against the fence, watching their team members flail. Jack chewed a piece of wheat and pursed his lips. Teal'c looked the most concerned out of the three men. "Perhaps we should help."
"No, this... this is a ritual here," Daniel said. "The local women capture the prog'n, the men slaughter it and cook it. It's a sign of domesticity."
"Right," Jack said. "Nothing we can do about it. Don't want to offend the bigwigs." He cupped his hands around his mouth and said, "Grab for the legs!"
Sam spun around, blue eyes bright inside a mud mask, and raised her right hand.
Jack sucked in a breath between his teeth. "That's borderline insubordination. That won't do."
Sam turned back to the field and saw the pig coming toward her. She planted her feet apart, spread her arms, and crouched, determined to catch him on the next pass. The pig squealed and zig-zagged, lifting its feet in a bucking bronco pose. "Got it!" Janet said as she lunged again, trying to wrap her arms around its neck. The pig dropped, Janet overcorrected, and slammed into Sam's midsection.
Both women fell to the ground in a twist of limbs, sending up a wave of mud in all directions. They would have been pleased to know that Jack and Daniel both got a faceful, but neither one of them noticed. Sam pushed up, Janet perched on her lap, and turned her head to spit out a glob of mud. Then she looked into Janet's face and saw mud-brown eyes surrounded by dripping mud. Sam took a deep breath, and started to laugh.
"What?" Janet said, face burning with embarrassment under the mud.
"I was just thinking. We're grown women, Colonels in the United States Air Force... and we would pay hundreds of dollars for this kind of treatment at a spa."
Janet smiled, showing white teeth. "We're adults playing in mud."
Sam picked up a handful of mud and dumped it on top of Janet's head. Janet shrieked and pushed Sam backward, down into the mud. Laughter and shrieking followed as the two women fought and slapped each other with handfuls of mud.
The pig sauntered up to the fence and looked quizzically at Jack.
Jack raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and said, "Don't look at me."
Janet yelped as Sam shoved wet mud down the back of her jacket. It wasn't the sort of thing an adult, professional woman would have done, but Sam had just decided that sometimes that job description was overrated.
This one is for tomorrow's mmom but I thought I would go ahead and post it here. ;-D
Title: Guns and Ammo
Self-Lover: Fiona Glenanne
Fandom: Burn Notice
Words: 516
Date: May 18
Summary: Certain things turn Fiona on more than flowers and candy.
Every now and then, Fiona got a boyfriend like Campbell. Not bad, not necessarily dull, just... vanilla. The kind of guy who gave her flowers and she had to fake that she liked them. And she did, sometimes. It was nice to get pretty things every once in a while. But flowers tended to wilt, and she had no problem throwing them out. And perfume was a hindrance when she wanted to get into someplace unnoticed.
Fiona dumped her satchel on the floor as she entered her apartment, took off her oversized sunglasses, and walked into the kitchen. She took a cold beer from the fridge and leaned against the counter to drink it. As she brought the bottle up, she caught a whiff of something on her hand. She sniffed, then pressed her fingers against her lips. Gunpowder. She shuddered and smiled.
She loved working with Michael again. He had such a lovely way of working. Things around him needed to be blown up so often, and she was just the girl to make that happen. The stink of explosives clung to her for days afterward sometime. She hated taking showers, but in Miami... well, that just wasn't an option. But with Michael Westen on hand, she knew that it was only a matter of time before she got that smell back.
They should bottle it. Make a perfume. Smoke and gunpowder, ash and shrapnel.
Fiona moved the bottle down, pressing it against her crotch through her thin sundress. She stood on her toes, her heels rising from the sandals she wore. She breathed deep, flaring her nostrils as she breathed in the scent of destruction that clung to her skin. The best was rolling around with Michael after one of their little adventures. Licking flesh that tasted vaguely of sulfur, tasting his sweat mingling with gun oil. Knowing fingers that had just blown up a building were inside of her was the biggest turn-on.
Fiona rubbed the smooth curve of the bottle against herself, rocking her hips in time. She closed her eyes and thought of all the improvised weapons she'd made since coming to Miami, making her own shotgun shells, makeshift sticky bombs, all the explosive powder that washed over her hands.
She put the bottle on the counter and lifted her dress, covering herself with her hand. She stroked with all four fingers, chuffing quietly through her nose as she came. She touched the tip of her tongue to her top lip, rolled her shoulders, pursed her lips, and exhaled. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and picked up her beer bottle.
Fiona walked down the hall, swaying her hips a little since she always felt a little extra sexual just after an orgasm, and let the beer bottle dangle from her fingers. She knew she should take a shower, otherwise she wouldn't get anything done all day. She brought her hand to her nose and breathed in, smiling.
She would take a shower, maybe do a load of laundry, and wait for Michael to call with his next big project.
Pairing: Kate Beckett/Ziva David
Prompt: crossover (Castle)
Recipient: magicalmongoose
Words: 1,309
Summary: The creations of Thom E Gemcity and Richard Castle have nothing on the reality.
Richard Castle and Thom E. Gemcity had never met. They simply shared a publisher. Castle noticed the photograph on the publisher's wall on the rare occasions he visited, but he didn't give it much thought. And Gemcity, NCIS Special Agent Timothy McGee in reality, had read all of Richard Castle's Derek Storm novels as research for his own novel series. McGee even had an autographed copy of the first in the series - signed to Gemcity instead of McGee - on the shelf in his writing room.
So Castle never realized the significance of the fact of Kate Beckett meeting with an NCIS liaison named Ziva David in connection to their latest case. She went alone to the meeting and shared what little information the NYPD had about their murder victim. Officer David, in return, told Beckett about the Navy lieutenant they believed to be responsible for the New York murder, as well as two murders in Virginia.
Their meeting of the minds turned into a dinner, and Beckett eventually broke the subject of working with a writer. Plied with a cocktail or two, Beckett revealed that she was the basis for Richard Castle's new main character. Ziva pointed out being a lead was better than being written as a sideline character, a love interest for the men. Beckett countered with her character's name, Nikki Heat, and Ziva conceded defeat.
After dinner, they walked together. Ziva promised NCIS would work the case concurrently with the NYPD rather than trying to overtake jurisdiction. Beckett thanked her as they walked through the twilight streets. When they reached Ziva's hotel, Beckett was reluctant to leave.
There was a street light on the corner, and they stood in the shadow cast by the hotel's awning. Beckett touched Ziva's cheek with a hand, the leather glove keeping the move from being overly intimate. Ziva turned her head, as if trying to see the hand, her hair and the shadows blocking her face. She kissed the inside of Beckett's wrist, between her glove and the sleeve of her coat, and then raised her eyes again.
They didn't need to question it; Beckett never asked to come up and Ziva never invited her. They simply turned and went into the well-lit lobby and rode the elevators up to Ziva's floor. Beckett followed Ziva into the room, casual like she'd done it thousands of times before. She waited for Ziva to take off her coat and turn to face her before making her move.
They kissed, tentatively and then attempting to assert dominance. Beckett moved Ziva backward through the hotel room. Ziva wrapped her arm around the blue-and-white scarf Beckett wore, the one Ziva had said "looked like ice" over dinner. She pulled it from around Beckett's neck and dropped it onto the bed.
Beckett let Ziva strip her of jacket and blouse, raising a hand to stop her before she could get to the pants and bra. Ziva leaned back on her elbows as Beckett climbed onto the bed, straddling Ziva and pushing her down. They kissed again and Ziva ran her hands over Beckett's exposed stomach, teasing the waistband of her pants as Beckett blindly undid the buttons of Ziva's blouse. She kissed down Ziva's neck, kissing her breasts through her black bra, and then dragged her tongue back up.
Ziva, refusing to be on the bottom longer than necessary, twisted and pinned Beckett to the mattress. Beckett smiled up at her, black hair covering her eyes like a veil, and Ziva knew she had found a worthy opponent. She pressed her thigh between Beckett's legs and rocked her entire body forward. Beckett grunted, but bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out.
Beckett grabbed the belt loops of Ziva's trousers and yanked down, only managing to expose the top curve of her ass. Ziva pushed Beckett's bra up and away, revealing a pink nipple which she bowed to kiss. Beckett squeezed Ziva's thigh with both legs, keeping her in place, and rocked her body, throwing Ziva off-balance. They twisted on the mattress and Ziva rolled around so that she was facedown on the bed.
Beckett pressed herself against Ziva's back and reached around, touching her through her pants. Ziva's body twisted underneath Beckett like a serpent and she lifted her head. Beckett kissed her and pulled Ziva's hips against her own. Ziva grunted and nipped at Beckett's bottom lip, then pushed herself up and grabbed the headboard. She looked over her shoulder again. "Do this," she whispered.
Beckett pulled away and did as Ziva requested. Ziva moved Beckett's hands so that her wrists were crossed. She retrieved Beckett's scarf and looped it around her hands. She secured Beckett to the headboard, then looked at her, their faces inches apart. Beckett was breathing heavily, her hair in her face, and she stared into Ziva's dark, soulful eyes. "Yeah," Beckett said, nodding once.
"Call me Lisa if you want to stop. All right?"
Beckett nodded again.
Ziva moved behind Beckett like a predator, her body brushing Beckett's as she moved. She rose onto her knees and molded herself to Beckett's back. She used the sides of her hands to brush along Beckett's torso, running down from shoulder to hip like twin razors. She unhooked Beckett's bra and pushed it up her arms, letting it dangle around her forearms. She ran her fingernails over Beckett's ribcage, smiling when Beckett shuddered violently at the touch, and then finally undid the button of her trousers.
Ziva dropped down onto her elbows as she pushed Beckett's pants and underwear down. She kissed the cheeks of Beckett's ass, pressed her cheek against the curve at the small of Beckett's back, and ran her tongue along Beckett's spine. Beckett arched her back as Ziva ignited the trail, pressing eagerly against her when Ziva embraced her from behind again.
Ziva put both hands between Beckett's legs, forming a diamond with her fingers. Beckett gasped and swallowed hard. Ziva touched Beckett and explored with her tongue, kissing Beckett's neck and nibbling on her earlobe. Beckett pulled at the scarf several times, but it refused to come lose. "Please, Ziva..."
Ziva moved Beckett's body with her hips, forcing Beckett against her probing fingers. Before long, Beckett was panting. Ziva held on tight, biting down on Beckett's shoulder. Ziva felt wetness on her fingers and brushed them over Beckett's clit. "Oh, God, Ziva..."
Ziva didn't stop until Beckett went limp, reluctantly pulling away from her body and reaching out to untie the scarf. When Beckett's hands were free, she twisted at the waist and pressed her lips hard against Ziva's. Their tongues fought for dominance and, this time, Beckett won. She shoved Ziva down, pinning her to the mattress, and breaking the kiss before Ziva could. Ziva kept her lips parted, her eyes closed, for a moment after Beckett retreated.
Beckett smiled down at her and swept the hair out of her face with a wave of her hand. They kissed again, gentler this time, and Beckett let her body collapse on top of Ziva's. When she broke this kiss again, Ziva said, "Now I suppose it is your turn?"
"You better believe it," Beckett said, reaching out for something.
Ziva smiled and lifted her arms above her head, crossing her arms at the wrist. "Do to me as you will."
"Not that," Beckett said, running her hand up Ziva's arm and pulling it back down. She kissed Ziva's fingers, the fingers that had moments ago been inside of her. She ran her tongue over Ziva's palm and then put her hand down.
"Then what--" Ziva started, but the question was moot. She smiled at Beckett's scarf descended over her eyes, and she lifted her head so the detective could tie the two ends together.
Obviously their night was only just beginning...
Title: Adult Professional Women
Pairing: Sam/Janet
Prompt: Fluff
Recipient: sinadino
Words: 584
Summary: Sam and Janet realize who they are and what they're doing.
Samantha Carter and Janet Fraiser were adult, professional women. Both over forty, both tops in their respective fields. They were respected by their superiors, revered by their subordinates, and trusted by their team members. They were raising a daughter together, they had a mortgage together, they were in what they called a "closet with the door standing open," quietly out to their friends and closest family. They were pillars of the community. They were to be respected.
At least that's what Sam told herself when she slid on yet another mud patch and landed flat on her ass. She swept her hand across her cheek, smearing more mud than she wiped away, and scrambled back to her feet. "Just grab his damned tail!" Sam barked.
"What tail?" Janet snapped back. She lunged, arms spread wide to wrap around the pig-dog's waist, but it was too quick. She landed facedown in the mud, wiping her face with muddy hands as Sam stepped over her prone body and tried to cut off the pig's escape. Janet spit and spluttered and rejoined the chase.
Jack O'Neill, Daniel Jackson and Teal'c leaned against the fence, watching their team members flail. Jack chewed a piece of wheat and pursed his lips. Teal'c looked the most concerned out of the three men. "Perhaps we should help."
"No, this... this is a ritual here," Daniel said. "The local women capture the prog'n, the men slaughter it and cook it. It's a sign of domesticity."
"Right," Jack said. "Nothing we can do about it. Don't want to offend the bigwigs." He cupped his hands around his mouth and said, "Grab for the legs!"
Sam spun around, blue eyes bright inside a mud mask, and raised her right hand.
Jack sucked in a breath between his teeth. "That's borderline insubordination. That won't do."
Sam turned back to the field and saw the pig coming toward her. She planted her feet apart, spread her arms, and crouched, determined to catch him on the next pass. The pig squealed and zig-zagged, lifting its feet in a bucking bronco pose. "Got it!" Janet said as she lunged again, trying to wrap her arms around its neck. The pig dropped, Janet overcorrected, and slammed into Sam's midsection.
Both women fell to the ground in a twist of limbs, sending up a wave of mud in all directions. They would have been pleased to know that Jack and Daniel both got a faceful, but neither one of them noticed. Sam pushed up, Janet perched on her lap, and turned her head to spit out a glob of mud. Then she looked into Janet's face and saw mud-brown eyes surrounded by dripping mud. Sam took a deep breath, and started to laugh.
"What?" Janet said, face burning with embarrassment under the mud.
"I was just thinking. We're grown women, Colonels in the United States Air Force... and we would pay hundreds of dollars for this kind of treatment at a spa."
Janet smiled, showing white teeth. "We're adults playing in mud."
Sam picked up a handful of mud and dumped it on top of Janet's head. Janet shrieked and pushed Sam backward, down into the mud. Laughter and shrieking followed as the two women fought and slapped each other with handfuls of mud.
The pig sauntered up to the fence and looked quizzically at Jack.
Jack raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and said, "Don't look at me."
Janet yelped as Sam shoved wet mud down the back of her jacket. It wasn't the sort of thing an adult, professional woman would have done, but Sam had just decided that sometimes that job description was overrated.
This one is for tomorrow's mmom but I thought I would go ahead and post it here. ;-D
Title: Guns and Ammo
Self-Lover: Fiona Glenanne
Fandom: Burn Notice
Words: 516
Date: May 18
Summary: Certain things turn Fiona on more than flowers and candy.
Every now and then, Fiona got a boyfriend like Campbell. Not bad, not necessarily dull, just... vanilla. The kind of guy who gave her flowers and she had to fake that she liked them. And she did, sometimes. It was nice to get pretty things every once in a while. But flowers tended to wilt, and she had no problem throwing them out. And perfume was a hindrance when she wanted to get into someplace unnoticed.
Fiona dumped her satchel on the floor as she entered her apartment, took off her oversized sunglasses, and walked into the kitchen. She took a cold beer from the fridge and leaned against the counter to drink it. As she brought the bottle up, she caught a whiff of something on her hand. She sniffed, then pressed her fingers against her lips. Gunpowder. She shuddered and smiled.
She loved working with Michael again. He had such a lovely way of working. Things around him needed to be blown up so often, and she was just the girl to make that happen. The stink of explosives clung to her for days afterward sometime. She hated taking showers, but in Miami... well, that just wasn't an option. But with Michael Westen on hand, she knew that it was only a matter of time before she got that smell back.
They should bottle it. Make a perfume. Smoke and gunpowder, ash and shrapnel.
Fiona moved the bottle down, pressing it against her crotch through her thin sundress. She stood on her toes, her heels rising from the sandals she wore. She breathed deep, flaring her nostrils as she breathed in the scent of destruction that clung to her skin. The best was rolling around with Michael after one of their little adventures. Licking flesh that tasted vaguely of sulfur, tasting his sweat mingling with gun oil. Knowing fingers that had just blown up a building were inside of her was the biggest turn-on.
Fiona rubbed the smooth curve of the bottle against herself, rocking her hips in time. She closed her eyes and thought of all the improvised weapons she'd made since coming to Miami, making her own shotgun shells, makeshift sticky bombs, all the explosive powder that washed over her hands.
She put the bottle on the counter and lifted her dress, covering herself with her hand. She stroked with all four fingers, chuffing quietly through her nose as she came. She touched the tip of her tongue to her top lip, rolled her shoulders, pursed her lips, and exhaled. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and picked up her beer bottle.
Fiona walked down the hall, swaying her hips a little since she always felt a little extra sexual just after an orgasm, and let the beer bottle dangle from her fingers. She knew she should take a shower, otherwise she wouldn't get anything done all day. She brought her hand to her nose and breathed in, smiling.
She would take a shower, maybe do a load of laundry, and wait for Michael to call with his next big project.