New Fic - CSI/SVU Crossover
All right ladies first fic in a while. Let's see lets rate this one, this part (if I can ever get the next part started) PG, I guess. Nothing too racy, which is unusual for me. But it may lead to more if I can get going inspiration-wise. Thanks to she who betaed this part, your work is most appreciated theholyinnocent. Now onto the story.
The smells of the garden wafted through the open window, carried on the breeze all the way to the second floor. The roses still had a few blooms, but their fragrance was light. No, the smell was of honeysuckle and jasmine, the tendrils of ivy sucking at the edges of the window as it climbed up the walls of the old house. Curious choices for a desert, but she enjoyed the scents. She sat quietly at the table before her, noting the starkness of the crisp table linens. She had never been here before but her friend (the quotation marks were around the word even in her thoughts) had mentioned this place, making a usual Vegas reference to laissez-faire, and she was intrigued. Beyond intrigued even - fascinated. There was a time once when she never would have dared to allow such desires to be recognized consciously. They were safely buried along with the love that dare not speak its name (and at that thought she almost laughed aloud) except in those fleeting rare dreams that took her back to where she loved, was loved, rather than a purposely distant drifter.
Vegas was the most recent of her newly adopted homes. It was a good city to get lost in, its sea of people ebbing and flowing with convention tides, bleary-eyed tourists, and those in a mad rush for matrimony. She was none of those things. Her one purpose was to hide, and by hiding to escape the grim and no doubt gruesome fate that waited for her the minute she appeared to be herself again. So instead she was someone else, and decided that she would be allowed to be all the things that Alexandra Cabot was never allowed to be. `
So after the casual reference of the would-be friend she did some searching of her soul and the phone book. She made the appointment and now sat safely ensconced in a parlour, nervous, expectant but little else. She allowed little in her life now for hope, or of truly having a desire met. That too had been left behind in New York. And coming to this place, this house would no doubt confuse her life even more but she felt the need to grasp at something, to make some connection. And to her current way of thinking it was all the better if cash changed hands. Emotion need not sully the bargain.
She filled out the forms asking for her likes, dislikes, will do and will not do’s that she had been asked to finish before she came for her first appointment. It read rather like an SAT based on sexual proclivities. She wondered if it would fed into a computer and how she would score. Always competitive, and curious, she wondered how to rank her desires. And then into the room stepped the woman who would surely do that for her.
The woman knew how to make an entrance. As she was perfectly framed in the doorway she cleared her throat. Black was her colour of choice, tight, form-fitting black. And the form was remarkable. Womanly in a classic sense, not the ever so common stick figures held up as beautiful but had as much appeal as a avocado pit. No, this was a woman with both breasts and hips, full lips, shining hair falling down her back. Instantly realizing that this was a woman that commanded, not demanded, Alex stood up as Lady Heather crossed the room and wondered if she had made the right decision to come into her Dominion.
The smells of the garden wafted through the open window, carried on the breeze all the way to the second floor. The roses still had a few blooms, but their fragrance was light. No, the smell was of honeysuckle and jasmine, the tendrils of ivy sucking at the edges of the window as it climbed up the walls of the old house. Curious choices for a desert, but she enjoyed the scents. She sat quietly at the table before her, noting the starkness of the crisp table linens. She had never been here before but her friend (the quotation marks were around the word even in her thoughts) had mentioned this place, making a usual Vegas reference to laissez-faire, and she was intrigued. Beyond intrigued even - fascinated. There was a time once when she never would have dared to allow such desires to be recognized consciously. They were safely buried along with the love that dare not speak its name (and at that thought she almost laughed aloud) except in those fleeting rare dreams that took her back to where she loved, was loved, rather than a purposely distant drifter.
Vegas was the most recent of her newly adopted homes. It was a good city to get lost in, its sea of people ebbing and flowing with convention tides, bleary-eyed tourists, and those in a mad rush for matrimony. She was none of those things. Her one purpose was to hide, and by hiding to escape the grim and no doubt gruesome fate that waited for her the minute she appeared to be herself again. So instead she was someone else, and decided that she would be allowed to be all the things that Alexandra Cabot was never allowed to be. `
So after the casual reference of the would-be friend she did some searching of her soul and the phone book. She made the appointment and now sat safely ensconced in a parlour, nervous, expectant but little else. She allowed little in her life now for hope, or of truly having a desire met. That too had been left behind in New York. And coming to this place, this house would no doubt confuse her life even more but she felt the need to grasp at something, to make some connection. And to her current way of thinking it was all the better if cash changed hands. Emotion need not sully the bargain.
She filled out the forms asking for her likes, dislikes, will do and will not do’s that she had been asked to finish before she came for her first appointment. It read rather like an SAT based on sexual proclivities. She wondered if it would fed into a computer and how she would score. Always competitive, and curious, she wondered how to rank her desires. And then into the room stepped the woman who would surely do that for her.
The woman knew how to make an entrance. As she was perfectly framed in the doorway she cleared her throat. Black was her colour of choice, tight, form-fitting black. And the form was remarkable. Womanly in a classic sense, not the ever so common stick figures held up as beautiful but had as much appeal as a avocado pit. No, this was a woman with both breasts and hips, full lips, shining hair falling down her back. Instantly realizing that this was a woman that commanded, not demanded, Alex stood up as Lady Heather crossed the room and wondered if she had made the right decision to come into her Dominion.