Laws of Attraction - Chapter Thirty-Nine: Here's To the Corkscrew! [A]
Title: Laws of Attraction
Author: Major Roon
Fandom: The Closer
Pairing: Brenda/Sharon
Rating: NC-17/M
Chapter Thirty-Nine:
Here’s To the Corkscrew!
Brenda drove slowly up the road, just to make sure there wasn’t any patrol officer lurking around or worse, Sergeant Elliott, and parked her car on the street - never on the driveway.
The bottle of wine sat on the passenger seat with her purse, waiting for her to make a decision.
It was late, Brenda argued, she hadn’t been invited and maybe she was overstepping her boundaries. Would Raydor mind? Would Raydor open the door?
Would Sharon stand there in a flimsy negligee, her wonderful, beautiful, terribly sexy legs shining in the moonlight?
Brenda shook her head at that; she was being ridiculous, clearly. Her head pounding with the stress of the day and this silly little decision to make, Brenda leaned forward, her forehead coming to rest against the steering wheel. Her tummy was churning, she had forgotten to eat and her shoulders ached.
All she wanted was to get out of her bra, have a glass of wine or three and relax.
A bath would have been nice but Sharon, if she opened the door that is, would be nicer.
Well then, Brenda sat up and took the bottle and her purse.
Decision made, she exited her car and began the ascend to Raydor’s one story house.
The lights were out as far as she could tell but knocked anyway. She waited for all of two seconds before she rang the doorbell. An eerie feeling came over her as there was no answer - the fact that it was dark and dead-quiet didn’t help matters.
Perhaps she wasn’t home.
Brenda wanted to ring again when there was a voice coming from inside.
“Who is this?”
The blonde rolled her eyes yet felt nervous. “It’s me.” That sounded stupid. “Brenda,” she added.
Nothing happened for the longest time, the blonde glanced around nervously, feeling a bit displaced, then she heard a series of locks turn and the door open.
Sharon stood there in a robe tightly wrapped around her, not showing off a thing, no cleavage, no legs, no nothing - she did however wear a rather stern expression.
“Hi,” Brenda said awkwardly.
Raydor rolled her eyes and opened the door wider in invitation. “I should have never told you where I live.”
The blonde stepped inside, feeling out of her element.
“Yes, well...I’ve still got your key.” She held it out.
“What about the wine?” Raydor asked and, Brenda only spotted it then, she leaned the baseball bat she had been holding against the wall by the door.
Brenda eyed it for a moment then Sharon. “I’m sure the police department issued even you a gun, Captain.”
Raydor gave her a fake smile and shut the door. “The wine?”
The blonde hid a smirk at her Captain’s urgency and preoccupation with the bottle of wine that she was cradling carefully in her arms. “I’ve had a terrible day at work--”
“Mine was worse,” Raydor argued, waving her off, and turning on her heel, her patience running thin.
Scurrying after the woman down the hall, Brenda argued her case. “I thought we could share the wine.”
“Leave the key where you found it.” Sharon disappeared into the bedroom.
Brenda stopped halfway down the hall. “It’s a 1997 McCray Ridge...”
The brunette’s head appeared. “Cabernet?”
“Merlot.”
Sharon seemed to contemplate it for a moment then came back down the hall. “Gimme that,” she relieved the blonde of the bottle and swept into the kitchen.
Brenda followed her like a puppy. “I’m sorry I came by so late but today was just terrible...Commander Taylor practically conned me into takin’ this silly case from him and I ended up with a million guns to trace--”
“Shhh!”
“What?”
“Quiet.” Raydor had opened a drawer and taken out a cork screw. “I was in bed, reading, my day was horrendous to say the least, as was yesterday--”
“You could’ve said somethin’ ‘bout that.”
The brunette merely raised an eyebrow then pulled the cork from the bottle. “You could’ve asked. Not that we were sharing personal details with one another at that point...yet here we are today, conversing over a bottle of wine.”
“Exquisite wine.”
Raydor didn’t comment, instead she got two glasses.
Brenda watched her as she poured the wine, conscious of the fact that the brunette wasn’t overly pleased to have found her on her doorstep. Sharon had probably only granted her entrance that quickly because she was too afraid of what the neighbors might think if they saw her.
The blonde bit her lip, internally amused. Her own actions didn’t necessarily reflect badly on Sharon but they did give her away; her neighbors, no matter how nosy, wouldn’t have automatically come to the conclusion that the woman knocking on Sharon Raydor’s door was her lover.
...that they were living next to a lesbian.
Brenda smirked. Raydor was embarrassed, she was walking around thinking everyone could see it.
The blonde picked up her glass, as did Sharon who immediately brought it to her lips.
“To strong, independent women who...,” Brenda said, interrupting her rather rude maneuver.
“Don’t take any shit?”
The blonde smiled. “Couldn’t have said it any better.” Brenda clinked her glass with Sharon’s and watched her take a sip. The brunette closed her eyes to take it all in and finally hummed with pleasure and the satisfaction of having her expectations met.
Brenda indulged in the sight for a moment then took a sip herself, pleased with her decision and of course the glorious idea of coming here.
Taking another sip, she realized how much she had missed sharing a nice bottle of wine with somebody; Fritz obviously couldn’t drink and it was quite clear that Brenda didn’t have many friends...nor did she want them...or had time for them.
She rather enjoyed her freedom and the fact that she could be by herself and spend some quality time with her own thoughts. Yet, with Sharon, she could do all those things and drink nice wine...all in one.
“Gorgeous,” Sharon husked eventually, observing the swirling dark red liquid in her glass.
Gorgeous, Brenda stared at the woman’s lips. Gorgeous.
“I liked the dress you were wearin’ earlier.”
Sharon smiled a little and said, “I know.” She took a big sip. “You were in my closet.”
“I was not!”
“And you’re a terrible liar.” Sharon tilted her head, her mood seemed to have improved, and scrutinized the blonde for a moment. “You’ve not eaten.”
Brenda nibbled on her bottom lip. “Nope.”
“I have pasta...”
“Sounds nice.”
The brunette nodded with finality and opened the fridge. “But just so we’re clear,” she said, “Your access is restricted to the kitchen, the bathroom...” She trailed off and practically disappeared in the refridgerator.
“And the bedroom?”
Sharon flushed. “We’ll see about that.”
“Hmm,” Brenda hummed and sat at the little table that she had sat at earlier with Lieutenant Provenza, setting her wine glass down delicately. She eyed the coasters stacked neatly at the end of the table and felt compelled to take one.
Good thing they weren’t dating, she thought, or else they might drive each other to the brink of insanity and beyond.
While Sharon warmed the food up for her, an uncomfortably domesticated gesture, Brenda felt herself relax despite it. She was oddly at ease, as if Raydor couldn’t throw anything her way that she hadn’t seen before. They had gotten quite familiar with each other, not that Brenda had the delusion of knowing the woman because she didn’t.
Not in the slightest. Sharon was still a stranger to her. She knew her body, knew how she wanted to be touched, where she liked it, where she didn’t.
Brenda knew which buttons to push, what to say and when, knew how the woman smelled, tasted, talked, whispered, screamed and laughed, and how it felt to be around her, how her presence, her closeness changed the air in the room, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand, made her feel hot and cold at the same time.
Made her breathless at times.
“Thank you,” Brenda said quietly as Sharon put the plate down in front of her. “Looks nice.”
Raydor said nothing, she merely sat next to her and watched her with a knowing expression that made Brenda shift in her seat.
“More wine?”
The blonde glanced at her glass. “Yes, please...” It was going right to her head. Sharon was going right to her head.
It was a home-cooked meal, the blonde realized upon her first bite and, for reasons unknown to herself, she felt tears well up in her eyes. She blinked them away and ate, trying to be well-mannered and delicate despite wanting to wolf it down like a starving animal.
For Brenda, eating somebody’s home-cooked meal felt rather personal. Her mama was a great cook, and their family dinners were legendary but, Brenda thought with regret, she had never shown an interest and had ultimately never learned.
She knew how to make spaghetti and clams...and mashed potatoes but that was about the extent of her culinary skills.
“So. You’re working that guns and ammo robbery?”
Brenda looked up from her plate, surprised, and nodded. “Yes.”
“Any leads?” The brunette crossed her legs and her robe parted, revealing her thighs.
“Yes,” Brenda stared absentmindedly. “But nothin’ substantial. Chief Delk made it quite clear that our main mission was to recover the guns.”
Sharon gave her a knowing look. “You better or he might call the ATF on you.”
The blonde’s bottom lip trembled. “Don’t say that.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him...” Raydor went on conversationally. “He is so far up the FBI’s--”
“I wanna stay the night,” Brenda interrupted, sounding quite sure. “I mean,” she put her fork down, “may I stay the night?”
Sharon narrowed her eyes at her as if to say no and then she covered up her legs as if to make a point and then she said, begrudgingly yet with a defeated tone to her voice, “Okay.”
Part Two
Author: Major Roon
Fandom: The Closer
Pairing: Brenda/Sharon
Rating: NC-17/M
Chapter Thirty-Nine:
Here’s To the Corkscrew!
Brenda drove slowly up the road, just to make sure there wasn’t any patrol officer lurking around or worse, Sergeant Elliott, and parked her car on the street - never on the driveway.
The bottle of wine sat on the passenger seat with her purse, waiting for her to make a decision.
It was late, Brenda argued, she hadn’t been invited and maybe she was overstepping her boundaries. Would Raydor mind? Would Raydor open the door?
Would Sharon stand there in a flimsy negligee, her wonderful, beautiful, terribly sexy legs shining in the moonlight?
Brenda shook her head at that; she was being ridiculous, clearly. Her head pounding with the stress of the day and this silly little decision to make, Brenda leaned forward, her forehead coming to rest against the steering wheel. Her tummy was churning, she had forgotten to eat and her shoulders ached.
All she wanted was to get out of her bra, have a glass of wine or three and relax.
A bath would have been nice but Sharon, if she opened the door that is, would be nicer.
Well then, Brenda sat up and took the bottle and her purse.
Decision made, she exited her car and began the ascend to Raydor’s one story house.
The lights were out as far as she could tell but knocked anyway. She waited for all of two seconds before she rang the doorbell. An eerie feeling came over her as there was no answer - the fact that it was dark and dead-quiet didn’t help matters.
Perhaps she wasn’t home.
Brenda wanted to ring again when there was a voice coming from inside.
“Who is this?”
The blonde rolled her eyes yet felt nervous. “It’s me.” That sounded stupid. “Brenda,” she added.
Nothing happened for the longest time, the blonde glanced around nervously, feeling a bit displaced, then she heard a series of locks turn and the door open.
Sharon stood there in a robe tightly wrapped around her, not showing off a thing, no cleavage, no legs, no nothing - she did however wear a rather stern expression.
“Hi,” Brenda said awkwardly.
Raydor rolled her eyes and opened the door wider in invitation. “I should have never told you where I live.”
The blonde stepped inside, feeling out of her element.
“Yes, well...I’ve still got your key.” She held it out.
“What about the wine?” Raydor asked and, Brenda only spotted it then, she leaned the baseball bat she had been holding against the wall by the door.
Brenda eyed it for a moment then Sharon. “I’m sure the police department issued even you a gun, Captain.”
Raydor gave her a fake smile and shut the door. “The wine?”
The blonde hid a smirk at her Captain’s urgency and preoccupation with the bottle of wine that she was cradling carefully in her arms. “I’ve had a terrible day at work--”
“Mine was worse,” Raydor argued, waving her off, and turning on her heel, her patience running thin.
Scurrying after the woman down the hall, Brenda argued her case. “I thought we could share the wine.”
“Leave the key where you found it.” Sharon disappeared into the bedroom.
Brenda stopped halfway down the hall. “It’s a 1997 McCray Ridge...”
The brunette’s head appeared. “Cabernet?”
“Merlot.”
Sharon seemed to contemplate it for a moment then came back down the hall. “Gimme that,” she relieved the blonde of the bottle and swept into the kitchen.
Brenda followed her like a puppy. “I’m sorry I came by so late but today was just terrible...Commander Taylor practically conned me into takin’ this silly case from him and I ended up with a million guns to trace--”
“Shhh!”
“What?”
“Quiet.” Raydor had opened a drawer and taken out a cork screw. “I was in bed, reading, my day was horrendous to say the least, as was yesterday--”
“You could’ve said somethin’ ‘bout that.”
The brunette merely raised an eyebrow then pulled the cork from the bottle. “You could’ve asked. Not that we were sharing personal details with one another at that point...yet here we are today, conversing over a bottle of wine.”
“Exquisite wine.”
Raydor didn’t comment, instead she got two glasses.
Brenda watched her as she poured the wine, conscious of the fact that the brunette wasn’t overly pleased to have found her on her doorstep. Sharon had probably only granted her entrance that quickly because she was too afraid of what the neighbors might think if they saw her.
The blonde bit her lip, internally amused. Her own actions didn’t necessarily reflect badly on Sharon but they did give her away; her neighbors, no matter how nosy, wouldn’t have automatically come to the conclusion that the woman knocking on Sharon Raydor’s door was her lover.
...that they were living next to a lesbian.
Brenda smirked. Raydor was embarrassed, she was walking around thinking everyone could see it.
The blonde picked up her glass, as did Sharon who immediately brought it to her lips.
“To strong, independent women who...,” Brenda said, interrupting her rather rude maneuver.
“Don’t take any shit?”
The blonde smiled. “Couldn’t have said it any better.” Brenda clinked her glass with Sharon’s and watched her take a sip. The brunette closed her eyes to take it all in and finally hummed with pleasure and the satisfaction of having her expectations met.
Brenda indulged in the sight for a moment then took a sip herself, pleased with her decision and of course the glorious idea of coming here.
Taking another sip, she realized how much she had missed sharing a nice bottle of wine with somebody; Fritz obviously couldn’t drink and it was quite clear that Brenda didn’t have many friends...nor did she want them...or had time for them.
She rather enjoyed her freedom and the fact that she could be by herself and spend some quality time with her own thoughts. Yet, with Sharon, she could do all those things and drink nice wine...all in one.
“Gorgeous,” Sharon husked eventually, observing the swirling dark red liquid in her glass.
Gorgeous, Brenda stared at the woman’s lips. Gorgeous.
“I liked the dress you were wearin’ earlier.”
Sharon smiled a little and said, “I know.” She took a big sip. “You were in my closet.”
“I was not!”
“And you’re a terrible liar.” Sharon tilted her head, her mood seemed to have improved, and scrutinized the blonde for a moment. “You’ve not eaten.”
Brenda nibbled on her bottom lip. “Nope.”
“I have pasta...”
“Sounds nice.”
The brunette nodded with finality and opened the fridge. “But just so we’re clear,” she said, “Your access is restricted to the kitchen, the bathroom...” She trailed off and practically disappeared in the refridgerator.
“And the bedroom?”
Sharon flushed. “We’ll see about that.”
“Hmm,” Brenda hummed and sat at the little table that she had sat at earlier with Lieutenant Provenza, setting her wine glass down delicately. She eyed the coasters stacked neatly at the end of the table and felt compelled to take one.
Good thing they weren’t dating, she thought, or else they might drive each other to the brink of insanity and beyond.
While Sharon warmed the food up for her, an uncomfortably domesticated gesture, Brenda felt herself relax despite it. She was oddly at ease, as if Raydor couldn’t throw anything her way that she hadn’t seen before. They had gotten quite familiar with each other, not that Brenda had the delusion of knowing the woman because she didn’t.
Not in the slightest. Sharon was still a stranger to her. She knew her body, knew how she wanted to be touched, where she liked it, where she didn’t.
Brenda knew which buttons to push, what to say and when, knew how the woman smelled, tasted, talked, whispered, screamed and laughed, and how it felt to be around her, how her presence, her closeness changed the air in the room, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand, made her feel hot and cold at the same time.
Made her breathless at times.
“Thank you,” Brenda said quietly as Sharon put the plate down in front of her. “Looks nice.”
Raydor said nothing, she merely sat next to her and watched her with a knowing expression that made Brenda shift in her seat.
“More wine?”
The blonde glanced at her glass. “Yes, please...” It was going right to her head. Sharon was going right to her head.
It was a home-cooked meal, the blonde realized upon her first bite and, for reasons unknown to herself, she felt tears well up in her eyes. She blinked them away and ate, trying to be well-mannered and delicate despite wanting to wolf it down like a starving animal.
For Brenda, eating somebody’s home-cooked meal felt rather personal. Her mama was a great cook, and their family dinners were legendary but, Brenda thought with regret, she had never shown an interest and had ultimately never learned.
She knew how to make spaghetti and clams...and mashed potatoes but that was about the extent of her culinary skills.
“So. You’re working that guns and ammo robbery?”
Brenda looked up from her plate, surprised, and nodded. “Yes.”
“Any leads?” The brunette crossed her legs and her robe parted, revealing her thighs.
“Yes,” Brenda stared absentmindedly. “But nothin’ substantial. Chief Delk made it quite clear that our main mission was to recover the guns.”
Sharon gave her a knowing look. “You better or he might call the ATF on you.”
The blonde’s bottom lip trembled. “Don’t say that.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him...” Raydor went on conversationally. “He is so far up the FBI’s--”
“I wanna stay the night,” Brenda interrupted, sounding quite sure. “I mean,” she put her fork down, “may I stay the night?”
Sharon narrowed her eyes at her as if to say no and then she covered up her legs as if to make a point and then she said, begrudgingly yet with a defeated tone to her voice, “Okay.”
Part Two