Undercover Operation (The Closer: Brenda/Sharon et al., NC-17)
Title: Undercover Operation
Author: JoelTheCat
Rating: NC-17 for whipping and a little blood in the line of duty
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Sharon Raydor/Brenda Leigh Johnson, with Fritz and Will standing around like a couple of idiots.
Genre: yes, Brenda/Sharon means f/f
Warning: BDSM, and not enough sex
Spoilers: for "No Good Deed," which I think aired in 2006....
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Author Notes: Yeah, those other detectives probably do look a little familiar. I wasn't in the mood to create a whole cast of female LEOs when I could be writing BDSM. Sorry.
Summary: Brenda and Sharon go undercover.
Word Count: 5103
Will Pope felt another sick headache coming on as the two women glared at him.
"A what?" Brenda Leigh asked. She made four syllables out of the word "what."
Sharon Raydor was looking at him as if he held a weapon.
"A. Lesbian. Bondage. Club?"
"Yeah," he said, rubbing his temples. At least Raydor was maintaining a façade of decorum. Brenda Leigh's mind was going in circles, looking for a place to stand and explode in fury, and Will did not want to be in the room when she did. Or the building. Or the city.
She found the place.
"You don't have entire squads of detectives to go undercover in places like this?"
"I do," said Pope. "They will be there."
"So you're just trying to humiliate me?"
"I know you, Brenda. I've known you for a long time."
"Let's not talk about that here," she said.
That got Captain Raydor's attention.
"Is there something I should know...?"
"No!" snapped Brenda.
"Absolutely not!" Pope said.
"Chief Pope," Raydor said, "you are asking me to put my life on the line in a very uncomfortable situation without a full understanding of the circumstances."
"You're going to have four couples inside the club watching you, all of Major Crimes outside on the street and a van full of people monitoring your wires, including me, and trust me: I am not going to let Br... either of you get hurt. Inconvenienced. Embarrassed. Or anything."
Brenda was glaring at him. Will didn't want to be on the same continent as she was, when she said whatever she was working up to.
"Ten officers on the inside? Is there going to be room for anybody else?"
"The fire marshal certified it for 320, so I think there'll be room."
"Why us?" Raydor asked. "Why us in particular?"
"I could tell you that I wanted a senior officer on the inside."
"With undercover officers that don't know me?" said Brenda.
"You could pair Chief Johnson with someone with whom she has more... chemistry," Raydor suggested.
"Trust me," Pope said again, "you two have absolutely explosive chemistry. Besides, Brenda is not the one I need."
That quieted both women. Pope tried to force out the words, knowing that when he did Brenda would explode, and Raydor as well.
"Four women are dead. That makes it a Major Crimes case anyway. And you...Brenda, you carry more weapons on your person than your entire squad put together. You say you were never a field agent, but you're still probably the most competent bodyguard on the force."
"I need a bodyguard?" said Raydor.
"The killer is targeting women of a certain age," Will said, "and Brenda is about ten years too young to interest him."
"So," said Brenda, "This guy is targeting women who are... umm...."
"Old?" Raydor prompted.
"Lesbians in late middle age who are into bondage? Couldn't we just warn the five people in LA that fit that profile?"
"If we remove the targets," Will said patiently, "the killer will change his pattern, and we have to start all over. No, this is the best solution."
"Chief," said Raydor, "I do not know anything about this environment."
"Brenda Leigh does," he said. She spun on him, blond hair snapping like a whip.
"Do you mind not telling the entire world what we...!"
"I think," he said, "that Estelle accomplished that for us some while ago. Also," he said, nodding to Raydor, "she's right. Her life depends on it. Now take her and turn her into your sub. And Captain?" He met Sharon's eyes. "You will be all right. For tonight, you're hers, her property, and Brenda Leigh does not let anyone mess with what's hers. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
From the frank appraisal of her gaze and her calm "yes, sir," Will suspected that she understood him perfectly. He rubbed his temples again, trying to banish the images of him he suspected Sharon would conjure whenever she saw him from this point on. He dismissed them, and the women swept out the door like a team of high-strung horses harnessed in tandem.
Pope dug in his desk drawer and swallowed three extra-strength analgesic tablets dry, knowing they would do nothing to fend off the headache.
"What do I have to do?" Sharon asked the Chief as they strode down the hall.
"What I tell you," the small woman said. "Nothing more, nothing less. Don't speak unless you're spoken to, and don't let anyone else touch you."
"Are you going to... touch me?" Sharon's half-formed image of Chief Pope trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey suddenly changed main characters, and she felt herself blushing.
"God, I hope not," said the Chief. "Why? Are you shy?"
"I never did this before," Sharon said. "I need to know what to expect so I don't blow our cover."
"No problem," said Brenda, "I'll just say it's your first time."
"And I...."
"You will not say anything," said the Chief. "Just say you're not allowed to talk."
"Not allowed?"
"If you're mine," said the Chief, "you do what I say. You're not allowed to talk unless I say you can. And Captain? That starts right now."
Brenda bit her lip as she continued down the hall to keep from laughing. This was the first time in the time she had known Sharon Raydor that she had seen the woman flustered. This was going to be fun. Not as much fun as if she were actually taking Sharon home afterward, but fun.
Brenda stopped, and Raydor walked into her. Brenda forcibly readjusted her own attitude. She absolutely did not want to take that woman home and chain her across her dining table and tease her with....
She didn't want to think what Fritz would think, how his eyes would widen, how he would feel. What if he liked the idea? What if he... what if he put his hands on Sharon? His mouth? His....
Sharon looked down at her, her bottom lip held between her teeth, pointedly not speaking.
This might work after all, Brenda told herself.
"Come on," Brenda said, "we're going shopping. You're going to need a very special costume."
Sharon had expected a dark alley with tiny shops with most of their merchandise under the counter. Brenda led her into a strip mall store that displayed every sort of pornographic material imaginable on its crowded walls and shelves. Sharon found herself looking at the cover of one of the featured DVDs, one with an oriental woman chained to a post with the marks of a whip on her back and some very large lime green thing protruding from her anus.
"Come on," said the Chief. "We need Bondage 101. That's graduate level stuff. Although it would help if you'd let me mark your back like that, just a little."
"With lipstick?" Sharon suggested.
The Chief stopped and turned.
"No," she said, "that would rub off. With a whip, but only a little, for realism."
"All right, if you think best."
The chief's eyebrows rose slightly.
"All right, then." She led Sharon to a rack labeled "Impact Toys" and chose something that looked like a short string mop with bright blue strips of something rubbery in place of the head. She tapped the strips against the back of Sharon's hand.
"You like?" she asked.
"Too gaudy," Sharon said. She ran her finger across a polished chrome plate with half-inch holes in it and a slender back handle.
"You're in grad school again," the Chief said. "You sure you've never done this before?"
"Never."
"If this were for real, we could try one of these," she said, selecting a wooden paddle like the ones Sharon had known very well in elementary school, "but paddles don't make the marks we're after. How about this?" She held out a black riding crop.
Sharon shook her head. She reached up, above her head and out of Chief Johnson's reach, and lifted down a bullwhip.
"One of these," she said.
"Why?"
"It's flexible, like a snake. It... it would make the right mark, wouldn't it?"
"It's gonna hurt, more than the others. You sure this is what you want?"
Somehow Sharon knew the dynamic had changed, that her relationship with Chief Johnson was no longer totally professional.
"Yeah," she said. "I want you to use that one on me. To make the marks."
"All right, then." The Chief played with the handle of the whip as if it were a man's genitals as she walked toward another rack. "We can go with chrome here, if you want," she said, pointing out a set of shackles.
"Too much like police issue," said Sharon. "Not black leather, either. Are we going to use these at the club?"
"Why?" Chief Johnson turned and laid a hand on Sharon's cheek. "Don't you want to?"
Sharon certainly didn't want to admit how much she did want to wear those cuffs for Chief Johnson, or how uncomfortably damp her nether regions had become during this shopping trip. However, at some point common sense and self preservation had to become an issue.
"I'm not sure I like the idea of being restrained in what might become a confrontational situation," she said.
"Probably right," the Chief said. She chose something fluffy and white. "These would work." She shook it out, revealing two fuzzy loops connected by a length of golden chain. She slipped the flexible cuffs over Sharon's wrists. "Something went down, you could just slip them off."
"That would work."
"Yeah. You look quite fetching in those."
Sharon found herself breathing quite hard as she looked into Chief Johnson's brown eyes.
"Isn't that the idea?" she asked.
"Oh, yes," said the Chief. "Now for wardrobe. There's a place down the street that has exactly what we need."
When the elevator opened, Will Pope's headache returned with a vengeance. Brenda Leigh and Captain Raydor had been shopping. They had enough expensive looking bags with them to break the department's budget for years to come.
"What...?"
"You can't expect to send us into a lesbian bondage club without making an investment in the proper equipment," said Brenda. She strode down the hall with Sharon following like a spectacularly well-trained bottom. Pope trailed them into Brenda's office, where Fritz Howard was sipping iced tea and waiting to take his wife to dinner.
"What on earth?" Howard asked....
"Equipment for going undercover," said Brenda. She set the bags on her desk and closed her blinds, obscuring the view into her office.
"Undercover where?" asked Fritz.
"Domin-Eye," Will told him.
"The Butch Butcher?" Fritz asked. "Oh, Brenda, God, no!"
"We'll be all right," she told him. "Sharon, strip to the waist please. Will, close the door."
He did so, ignoring the wide eyes of Provenza and Sanchez outside. Raydor had said nothing, but she was standing still and staring at Brenda, as was Fritz.
"Right now, Captain," said Brenda. The dark woman took a deep breath, turned away from the men and began to disrobe. Brenda Leigh pulled a short bullwhip from one of the bags, uncoiled it and tossed it to Will. There went the budget for the next decade. "Four stripes diagonally across her back," Brenda instructed. "Don't cross them. Fritz, is there ice in that drink?"
"Ye... yeah. You're not really going to...?"
"Put your hair up out of the way," Will told Sharon, whose arms were crossed so as to conceal her bare breasts. He smiled when she looked to Brenda Leigh for confirmation before closing her eyes, twisting her hair into a bun and securing it with a sharp yellow Number Two pencil from Brenda's desk. "Okay," he said, "put your hands on the upright between the two panes of glass... higher... okay, now, don't move." He brushed her ass gently with the whip, and she gasped.
"No noise, Captain," said Brenda. Not that that was going to make much difference. This so-called office was three glass partitions against the building's outer wall, open at the top, nearly ten feet from the ceiling of the larger room. Every member of Brenda's squad was going to hear what was about to happen. Pope pictured Sanchez's wide eyes, Provenza and Flynn agreeing on a bet, Gabriel tempted to intervene but resisting. "Close your mouth, Fritz," said Brenda. "It's just window dressing for the undercover thing. Now, Will."
Howard's mouth stayed open. Will could see it reflected in the glass, see his wide eyes glued on the reflection of Sharon Raydor's bare breasts. At a guess, Fritz Howard was finding out a few things about his wife that might do him good. Will laid the whip across Sharon's back with a solid crack, leaving an angry welt from the point where her neck met her shoulder down to the curve of the opposite hip. Better be quick, before one of Brenda's boys did get the courage to interfere. Three more rapid strokes, and it was done.
"All right, Sharon?" Brenda asked.
"Of course," said the FID captain. Pope couldn't help smiling as he coiled the whip. Raydor was nothing if not a trooper.
"Fritzi," said Brenda, "run some ice over the welts, so they cool down and look a little older. Then we'll put a couple of more across them so it looks like this has been going on a while. Did I tell you you could look at me?"
Brenda was changing clothes, changing into a long-sleeved black dress with windowpane cutouts down the sides from the armpits to the hem. Howard dug a piece of ice from his cup and walked up to Sharon, adjusting his trousers with his free hand to accommodate a huge erection. He laid a hand on Raydor's arm. Her hands were still on the aluminum upright, still where she'd been told to put them.
"Sharon?" he asked. "Are you sure you're all right with this?"
She nodded, and he applied the ice to the welts. Will held up the whip.
"The city is not paying for this," he said. "What is it, four, five hundred? We could have found something else to make those marks."
"I think I want to keep that anyway," Brenda said, and let him zip the black dress. "But you're paying for the rest of it, right?"
"What do you have in there?" he asked. "We are not paying for anything that looks like jelly with glitter in it."
"Honestly, Will, I do already have some of the essentials!" She stepped up behind Sharon and put a hand on her back, then unexpectedly leaned forward and traced one welt with her tongue. It was not Sharon who gasped, but Fritz.
"Is that for the undercover operation, too?" he blurted. Brenda smiled at him.
"Is that?" she asked, her gaze dipping to his crotch. "Two more, Will," she said, "as nearly straight up and down as you can get them."
"Step back," Will told Fritz, and applied the stripes as ordered. Where each one crossed the underlying four a tiny bead of red glistened.
"Perfect," said Brenda. "Let the blood dry, Captain, and then get dressed. We don't want to be late for this party."
Apparently Raydor had decided that the world would not end if Will and Fritz saw her bare skin, or perhaps she'd finally realized that Brenda Leigh was in total control and would not allow power plays among her subs. She slipped off her skirt and her underwear and dressed herself out of the bags in lacy white panties and a white halter dress that left the marks on her back exposed to the eye, and white platform sandals that laced around her delicate ankles. Sharon found a place to hide her badge and her pistol, then Brenda applied something to Sharon's hair that left it glossy and curling in all directions and sprinkled it with glitter. She slipped white fur shackles over Sharon's wrists and fastened a leather collar around her neck.
"We're not paying for those cuffs, either," Will told her. "The department has shackles."
"Oh, please!" said Brenda. "Why don't we just walk in with our badges on our chests! Come on, sweetie," she said to Sharon, and stepped out her office door to find her entire squad standing and waiting for her. Buzz had the video camera running. Brenda smiled and twirled Sharon around. "What do you think?" she asked them. "Will she tempt the Butch Butcher?"
"If she doesn't," said Provenza, "we can assume he has changed his sexual orientation."
"Are you all right, Captain?" asked Gabriel. "With all of this?"
"Of course," Raydor told him. She spun around so her back was toward Gabriel. "Does it look okay, do you think?"
"Oh, yeah! I mean, it looks... effective. The perp should... I mean...."
"You look really hot," said Sanchez.
"Incredibly hot," said Flynn.
Brenda took Sharon by the hand.
"Let's go get him," she said. She turned to Will and Fritz, who were still standing in her office. "And you," she told Fritz, "do not touch him," she said, pointing to Will, "until I say so."
She snatched the bullwhip from Pope's hands and flounced out of the Murder Room, Raydor in tow, as Will looked into Fritz's eyes and saw mirrored there his own terror at that single word: UNTIL.
"Are you okay?" Brenda asked Sharon in the elevator.
"Of course."
"Not what you expected?"
"Not exactly."
"How's that?"
"I... I thought you were going to do it. I thought it would be just us."
Brenda stepped in front of the other woman and put her arms around her.
"I'm sorry," she said. "This got really real really quick, and I went farther than I should have, way too quick. From now on, it will be just us, until you ask."
"Until, Chief?"
"Close your eyes, Sharon, and visualize yourself using a strap-on on...."
Sharon's eyes flew open in shock.
"I think I might be dangerous with one of those," she said.
"I expect you will be, darling," Brenda said. She laid her head on Sharon's shoulder and found that her hands had begun massaging the other woman's ass with no particular instruction from her brain. She felt warm lips against her ear, then her neck.
"When we get there, tonight," she told Sharon, "ask before you touch me, okay?"
"May I kiss you, Chief?"
Brenda smiled and looked up to let Sharon's mouth cover hers, and found herself looking straight into the elevator security camera. Behind Sharon's back Brenda lifted her middle finger toward the anonymous watchers, closed her eyes and turned her attention to the kiss.
The club was dark, even with the red and purple strobes. Brenda thought she saw Irene Daniels sitting at a table with Sunny Nguyen from Robbery/Homicide, and she recognized two elegantly tall blond detectives from Narcotics who had assisted with a series of murdered sex workers the year before. She thought the foul-mouthed blond smoking a cigar investigated traffic fatalities, but she couldn't be sure. Somewhere in here there should be three other police officers, but Brenda had no idea where.
It didn't matter. As soon as they walked into the room, all eyes were on Sharon, on the shackles, the dress, and when she turned, on her ravaged back. Brenda pulled her out on the dance floor, away from the staring eyes and the things that were going on under tables and on them and up against walls. She held Sharon close and turned in a slow circle, surveying the room. It was Daniels in the booth, and her eyes had gone past extra large all the way to giant economy size. Brenda flashed her a wicked smile and squeezed Sharon's ass where Irene could see. Nguyen leaned over and asked Daniels a question, and when she replied the Asian girl's response was shock and a two-word expletive involving an intimate act. Brenda smiled at her, too, and continued turning in a languid circle. The taller of the Narcotics detectives folded her thin frame sideways in the booth to watch, and her partner raised a glass and flashed them an unbelievably brilliant smile.
"You know they all want you, don't you?" Brenda whispered to Sharon. "They want to slide their fingers inside you and then lick the slickness off."
"We're working, Chief," Sharon said.
"Yep, and you're having exactly the right effect." The song ended and she led Sharon to the bar.
"You guys are new here," said the bartender. She was a woman a year or so younger than Brenda with spiky red hair, a tiny barbell through one eyebrow and something hard under her sports bra over each nipple.
"You know your clientèle that well?" Brenda asked.
"I wouldn't forget the two of you," the woman told Brenda, "especially not her. You gonna pimp her out?"
"Oh, no!" Brenda told her. "This one's MINE! Make us a couple of mojitos, please?"
"Chief," whispered Sharon, "what is that on her chest?"
"Probably nipple clips."
Brenda had watched Sharon closely enough during their shopping trip and the scene in her office to know when something turned the other woman on, and she knew that beneath Sharon's wide-eyed shock was a flush of arousal.
"We could maybe find something like that, when we go back for the paddle."
"No!" said Sharon. "Not... not ever!"
"You sure? They make them with a chain between them, and it slaps against you when... when you move. Some of them have three clips: two for up here," and her fingertips barely touched each of Sharon's breasts, "and one for down here." Her hand settled in the other woman's lap.
"No," Sharon whispered.
"Okay," Brenda said. "Have you spotted anyone paying you any attention?" she asked. Sharon flushed.
"Everyone," she said. "Even the woman I suspended three months ago for knocking out a suspect's teeth is licking her lips."
"She knocked out...?"
"Just three of them. He grabbed her breasts."
"And you suspended her?"
"If she hadn't had a good reason, I would have had her fired."
"Okay, get back in character. Nipple clips. Chrome paddle. Some stranger's fingers making cir... thank you." The mojitos had arrived.
"You two from around here?" the bartender asked.
"Do I sound like I'm from around here?" Brenda asked.
"Just visiting, then?"
"Something like that. What else should we see, do you think?"
"Girl Bar is a nice dance club, but probably too tame for you. You look like you're comfortable around here. She local, or you bring her with you?"
"She's mine," Brenda said simply.
"Right."
Sharon leaned close to Brenda and asked about the ladies' room. Brenda pointed it out, and Sharon walked across the room, every eye in the place watching her swaying backside. Daniels apparently discovered a need to pee, too, and followed Sharon down the hall. Brenda, having finished her own drink, gulped down the remaining half of Sharon's and turned to order again, but the bartender had disappeared.
Fifteen minutes later, none of the three had returned. Detective Nguyen lifted an eyebrow at Brenda, who nodded. The two of them walked down the hall toward the restroom. The woman from Traffic snuffed out her stogy and followed, as did the two leggy blonds.
Irene Daniels was lying unconscious on the bathroom floor. "Officer down," Brenda said, knowing her wire would pick up every word. "In the ladies room. Stay with her, Detective...." she looked at the skinnier of the tall ones, who supplied her name.
"Winters," she said, "Reggie Winters."
"Stay with her, Detective Winters." The rest of them had their weapons out, the tall blond moving with agile athleticism and the girl from Traffic storming along beside her, and Brenda and Nguyen behind them. Outside sirens were wailing, and behind them the front door was breached and Sanchez and Provenza were identifying themselves and announcing a raid. Then the blonds were out the door and shouting. Brenda followed them and found the bartender holding a switchblade to Sharon Raydor's throat.
However, the bartender was an idiot. She pointed her knife hand at the blonds. Sharon stepped hard on the woman's instep, elbowed her in the midsection and spun out of her grasp. The two blonds were over the railing as if they could fly. The tall one pulled the bartender to the ground and the girl from traffic hit her in the face. By this time the alley was full of male officers who had come from the street, including Fritz and Will. Flynn stuck his head out the door, then went back in.
"Oh, fuck me!" wailed the blond from Traffic. "I knocked out the bitch's fucking tooth out again!"
"No, you didn't," said Sharon, leaning heavily on Fritz. "I did."
"No, ma'am, I'm pretty sure I did it. Shit!"
Brenda put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Detective," she said, "if I have learned nothing else in the last two years, I have figured out that when Captain Raydor uses that tone of voice, it behooves the rest of us to listen. The nice lady is trying to thank you for saving her life, here. Why don't we try paying attention?"
"Really, Karen," said Nguyen to the Traffic detective, "I think I did see her knock that tooth loose. Isn't that what happened?"
Karen nodded enthusiastically, and Brenda left her and went to the bartender. The tall blond had handcuffs on her and had wrestled her to her feet in one athletic move. Brenda exhibited her badge.
"You have got to be kidding," the woman said.
"Oh, I am deadly serious," Brenda said, "and you are under arrest for two counts of assaulting police officers, and that's just to start with. Get her out of her, Detective."
The woman marched the bartender down the alley toward the waiting black and whites.
"Brenda?" Will was standing with Sharon and Fritz. "We're going to need another bus."
"What's wrong?" Brenda said, crossing the alley rapidly.
"She bounced off the rough brick wall," Fritz said. Brenda looked at Sharon's back and saw that the skin had been knocked off each of the six angry welts, leaving raw flesh beneath. Sharon would carry Brenda's marks for the rest of her life.
Will found her beside the hospital bed where Sharon lay face down in a drugged slumber.
"They're releasing her tomorrow," he said, "if nothing goes wrong. Her family will be here in a little while. You probably don't want to be around then."
"She's mine, and I let her get hurt," said Brenda.
"She's a cop," said Will. "She's not the first officer to take a beating to make an undercover operation work, and she won't be the last. There'll be a commendation in it for her."
"And for the rest of them? Tracy and Nguyen and the rest, and especially Daniels?"
"You want me to give a commendation to someone who walked through a door and got clocked with a metal trash can full of used feminine hygiene products?"
"You wouldn't have to phrase it just like that, would you?"
"I'll think of something," he said. "You go on. Fritz is outside. Go home."
"I have to question...."
"The bartender's prints match those on each of the other victims. She confessed to Buzz."
"To Buzz?"
"You should have seen his face. Fortunately he had left the recorder running, and Detective Patterson mirandized her at the scene and again on video in the interview room."
"Sharp lady. Tough, too."
"And speaking of video, you are aware that you're a porn star, aren't you? The uniforms assigned to the elevator security cameras are selling DVDs for twenty dollars a pop."
"Oh, good Lord."
"Go home, get some sleep. I'll handle it, and I'll stay here until Sharon's family shows up."
Brenda pulled the door to behind her, then walked into Fritz's open arms.
"You through playing dominatrix for a while?" he asked.
"It's not funny," she said. "Sharon got hurt. I never had anybody get hurt before."
"This was not sex play, Brenda. It was an undercover operation, and it succeeded beyond belief."
"I should have gone with her to the bathroom."
"If you had, the perp would never have made a move. You guys did everything right, and you got a confession. Provenza says the perp said it was the welts that convinced her that you guys were on the level. You did everything right."
"What if...."
"We would have picked her up as soon as they came out of the alley. There was never a chance that anything would go wrong, Brenda. There was never a chance that Sharon...."
"But she did."
"It was a freak accident. She's going to be all right."
The elevator opened and a bevy of tall redheads poured into the hall: two broad-shouldered men and a woman who looked as formidable as Sharon herself, surrounded by spouses and children in their early teens and what appeared to be an elderly uncle.
"Let's give them room," said Fritz. He led her into the elevator and put his arms around her. Brenda squirmed free.
"I'm already in one elevator video on sale in this town," she said. "I don't even want to think about what it looks like."
"Then what do you want me to do with our copy?" he asked.
"I want to see that when we get home," she said.
"Only if you tell me what I'm not allowed to do to Will Pope until you say it's okay."
"Pervert."
"Pot. Kettle."
"I still have that bullwhip, you know."
"Oh, yeah," he said, "I know."
Author: JoelTheCat
Rating: NC-17 for whipping and a little blood in the line of duty
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Sharon Raydor/Brenda Leigh Johnson, with Fritz and Will standing around like a couple of idiots.
Genre: yes, Brenda/Sharon means f/f
Warning: BDSM, and not enough sex
Spoilers: for "No Good Deed," which I think aired in 2006....
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Author Notes: Yeah, those other detectives probably do look a little familiar. I wasn't in the mood to create a whole cast of female LEOs when I could be writing BDSM. Sorry.
Summary: Brenda and Sharon go undercover.
Word Count: 5103
Will Pope felt another sick headache coming on as the two women glared at him.
"A what?" Brenda Leigh asked. She made four syllables out of the word "what."
Sharon Raydor was looking at him as if he held a weapon.
"A. Lesbian. Bondage. Club?"
"Yeah," he said, rubbing his temples. At least Raydor was maintaining a façade of decorum. Brenda Leigh's mind was going in circles, looking for a place to stand and explode in fury, and Will did not want to be in the room when she did. Or the building. Or the city.
She found the place.
"You don't have entire squads of detectives to go undercover in places like this?"
"I do," said Pope. "They will be there."
"So you're just trying to humiliate me?"
"I know you, Brenda. I've known you for a long time."
"Let's not talk about that here," she said.
That got Captain Raydor's attention.
"Is there something I should know...?"
"No!" snapped Brenda.
"Absolutely not!" Pope said.
"Chief Pope," Raydor said, "you are asking me to put my life on the line in a very uncomfortable situation without a full understanding of the circumstances."
"You're going to have four couples inside the club watching you, all of Major Crimes outside on the street and a van full of people monitoring your wires, including me, and trust me: I am not going to let Br... either of you get hurt. Inconvenienced. Embarrassed. Or anything."
Brenda was glaring at him. Will didn't want to be on the same continent as she was, when she said whatever she was working up to.
"Ten officers on the inside? Is there going to be room for anybody else?"
"The fire marshal certified it for 320, so I think there'll be room."
"Why us?" Raydor asked. "Why us in particular?"
"I could tell you that I wanted a senior officer on the inside."
"With undercover officers that don't know me?" said Brenda.
"You could pair Chief Johnson with someone with whom she has more... chemistry," Raydor suggested.
"Trust me," Pope said again, "you two have absolutely explosive chemistry. Besides, Brenda is not the one I need."
That quieted both women. Pope tried to force out the words, knowing that when he did Brenda would explode, and Raydor as well.
"Four women are dead. That makes it a Major Crimes case anyway. And you...Brenda, you carry more weapons on your person than your entire squad put together. You say you were never a field agent, but you're still probably the most competent bodyguard on the force."
"I need a bodyguard?" said Raydor.
"The killer is targeting women of a certain age," Will said, "and Brenda is about ten years too young to interest him."
"So," said Brenda, "This guy is targeting women who are... umm...."
"Old?" Raydor prompted.
"Lesbians in late middle age who are into bondage? Couldn't we just warn the five people in LA that fit that profile?"
"If we remove the targets," Will said patiently, "the killer will change his pattern, and we have to start all over. No, this is the best solution."
"Chief," said Raydor, "I do not know anything about this environment."
"Brenda Leigh does," he said. She spun on him, blond hair snapping like a whip.
"Do you mind not telling the entire world what we...!"
"I think," he said, "that Estelle accomplished that for us some while ago. Also," he said, nodding to Raydor, "she's right. Her life depends on it. Now take her and turn her into your sub. And Captain?" He met Sharon's eyes. "You will be all right. For tonight, you're hers, her property, and Brenda Leigh does not let anyone mess with what's hers. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
From the frank appraisal of her gaze and her calm "yes, sir," Will suspected that she understood him perfectly. He rubbed his temples again, trying to banish the images of him he suspected Sharon would conjure whenever she saw him from this point on. He dismissed them, and the women swept out the door like a team of high-strung horses harnessed in tandem.
Pope dug in his desk drawer and swallowed three extra-strength analgesic tablets dry, knowing they would do nothing to fend off the headache.
"What do I have to do?" Sharon asked the Chief as they strode down the hall.
"What I tell you," the small woman said. "Nothing more, nothing less. Don't speak unless you're spoken to, and don't let anyone else touch you."
"Are you going to... touch me?" Sharon's half-formed image of Chief Pope trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey suddenly changed main characters, and she felt herself blushing.
"God, I hope not," said the Chief. "Why? Are you shy?"
"I never did this before," Sharon said. "I need to know what to expect so I don't blow our cover."
"No problem," said Brenda, "I'll just say it's your first time."
"And I...."
"You will not say anything," said the Chief. "Just say you're not allowed to talk."
"Not allowed?"
"If you're mine," said the Chief, "you do what I say. You're not allowed to talk unless I say you can. And Captain? That starts right now."
Brenda bit her lip as she continued down the hall to keep from laughing. This was the first time in the time she had known Sharon Raydor that she had seen the woman flustered. This was going to be fun. Not as much fun as if she were actually taking Sharon home afterward, but fun.
Brenda stopped, and Raydor walked into her. Brenda forcibly readjusted her own attitude. She absolutely did not want to take that woman home and chain her across her dining table and tease her with....
She didn't want to think what Fritz would think, how his eyes would widen, how he would feel. What if he liked the idea? What if he... what if he put his hands on Sharon? His mouth? His....
Sharon looked down at her, her bottom lip held between her teeth, pointedly not speaking.
This might work after all, Brenda told herself.
"Come on," Brenda said, "we're going shopping. You're going to need a very special costume."
Sharon had expected a dark alley with tiny shops with most of their merchandise under the counter. Brenda led her into a strip mall store that displayed every sort of pornographic material imaginable on its crowded walls and shelves. Sharon found herself looking at the cover of one of the featured DVDs, one with an oriental woman chained to a post with the marks of a whip on her back and some very large lime green thing protruding from her anus.
"Come on," said the Chief. "We need Bondage 101. That's graduate level stuff. Although it would help if you'd let me mark your back like that, just a little."
"With lipstick?" Sharon suggested.
The Chief stopped and turned.
"No," she said, "that would rub off. With a whip, but only a little, for realism."
"All right, if you think best."
The chief's eyebrows rose slightly.
"All right, then." She led Sharon to a rack labeled "Impact Toys" and chose something that looked like a short string mop with bright blue strips of something rubbery in place of the head. She tapped the strips against the back of Sharon's hand.
"You like?" she asked.
"Too gaudy," Sharon said. She ran her finger across a polished chrome plate with half-inch holes in it and a slender back handle.
"You're in grad school again," the Chief said. "You sure you've never done this before?"
"Never."
"If this were for real, we could try one of these," she said, selecting a wooden paddle like the ones Sharon had known very well in elementary school, "but paddles don't make the marks we're after. How about this?" She held out a black riding crop.
Sharon shook her head. She reached up, above her head and out of Chief Johnson's reach, and lifted down a bullwhip.
"One of these," she said.
"Why?"
"It's flexible, like a snake. It... it would make the right mark, wouldn't it?"
"It's gonna hurt, more than the others. You sure this is what you want?"
Somehow Sharon knew the dynamic had changed, that her relationship with Chief Johnson was no longer totally professional.
"Yeah," she said. "I want you to use that one on me. To make the marks."
"All right, then." The Chief played with the handle of the whip as if it were a man's genitals as she walked toward another rack. "We can go with chrome here, if you want," she said, pointing out a set of shackles.
"Too much like police issue," said Sharon. "Not black leather, either. Are we going to use these at the club?"
"Why?" Chief Johnson turned and laid a hand on Sharon's cheek. "Don't you want to?"
Sharon certainly didn't want to admit how much she did want to wear those cuffs for Chief Johnson, or how uncomfortably damp her nether regions had become during this shopping trip. However, at some point common sense and self preservation had to become an issue.
"I'm not sure I like the idea of being restrained in what might become a confrontational situation," she said.
"Probably right," the Chief said. She chose something fluffy and white. "These would work." She shook it out, revealing two fuzzy loops connected by a length of golden chain. She slipped the flexible cuffs over Sharon's wrists. "Something went down, you could just slip them off."
"That would work."
"Yeah. You look quite fetching in those."
Sharon found herself breathing quite hard as she looked into Chief Johnson's brown eyes.
"Isn't that the idea?" she asked.
"Oh, yes," said the Chief. "Now for wardrobe. There's a place down the street that has exactly what we need."
When the elevator opened, Will Pope's headache returned with a vengeance. Brenda Leigh and Captain Raydor had been shopping. They had enough expensive looking bags with them to break the department's budget for years to come.
"What...?"
"You can't expect to send us into a lesbian bondage club without making an investment in the proper equipment," said Brenda. She strode down the hall with Sharon following like a spectacularly well-trained bottom. Pope trailed them into Brenda's office, where Fritz Howard was sipping iced tea and waiting to take his wife to dinner.
"What on earth?" Howard asked....
"Equipment for going undercover," said Brenda. She set the bags on her desk and closed her blinds, obscuring the view into her office.
"Undercover where?" asked Fritz.
"Domin-Eye," Will told him.
"The Butch Butcher?" Fritz asked. "Oh, Brenda, God, no!"
"We'll be all right," she told him. "Sharon, strip to the waist please. Will, close the door."
He did so, ignoring the wide eyes of Provenza and Sanchez outside. Raydor had said nothing, but she was standing still and staring at Brenda, as was Fritz.
"Right now, Captain," said Brenda. The dark woman took a deep breath, turned away from the men and began to disrobe. Brenda Leigh pulled a short bullwhip from one of the bags, uncoiled it and tossed it to Will. There went the budget for the next decade. "Four stripes diagonally across her back," Brenda instructed. "Don't cross them. Fritz, is there ice in that drink?"
"Ye... yeah. You're not really going to...?"
"Put your hair up out of the way," Will told Sharon, whose arms were crossed so as to conceal her bare breasts. He smiled when she looked to Brenda Leigh for confirmation before closing her eyes, twisting her hair into a bun and securing it with a sharp yellow Number Two pencil from Brenda's desk. "Okay," he said, "put your hands on the upright between the two panes of glass... higher... okay, now, don't move." He brushed her ass gently with the whip, and she gasped.
"No noise, Captain," said Brenda. Not that that was going to make much difference. This so-called office was three glass partitions against the building's outer wall, open at the top, nearly ten feet from the ceiling of the larger room. Every member of Brenda's squad was going to hear what was about to happen. Pope pictured Sanchez's wide eyes, Provenza and Flynn agreeing on a bet, Gabriel tempted to intervene but resisting. "Close your mouth, Fritz," said Brenda. "It's just window dressing for the undercover thing. Now, Will."
Howard's mouth stayed open. Will could see it reflected in the glass, see his wide eyes glued on the reflection of Sharon Raydor's bare breasts. At a guess, Fritz Howard was finding out a few things about his wife that might do him good. Will laid the whip across Sharon's back with a solid crack, leaving an angry welt from the point where her neck met her shoulder down to the curve of the opposite hip. Better be quick, before one of Brenda's boys did get the courage to interfere. Three more rapid strokes, and it was done.
"All right, Sharon?" Brenda asked.
"Of course," said the FID captain. Pope couldn't help smiling as he coiled the whip. Raydor was nothing if not a trooper.
"Fritzi," said Brenda, "run some ice over the welts, so they cool down and look a little older. Then we'll put a couple of more across them so it looks like this has been going on a while. Did I tell you you could look at me?"
Brenda was changing clothes, changing into a long-sleeved black dress with windowpane cutouts down the sides from the armpits to the hem. Howard dug a piece of ice from his cup and walked up to Sharon, adjusting his trousers with his free hand to accommodate a huge erection. He laid a hand on Raydor's arm. Her hands were still on the aluminum upright, still where she'd been told to put them.
"Sharon?" he asked. "Are you sure you're all right with this?"
She nodded, and he applied the ice to the welts. Will held up the whip.
"The city is not paying for this," he said. "What is it, four, five hundred? We could have found something else to make those marks."
"I think I want to keep that anyway," Brenda said, and let him zip the black dress. "But you're paying for the rest of it, right?"
"What do you have in there?" he asked. "We are not paying for anything that looks like jelly with glitter in it."
"Honestly, Will, I do already have some of the essentials!" She stepped up behind Sharon and put a hand on her back, then unexpectedly leaned forward and traced one welt with her tongue. It was not Sharon who gasped, but Fritz.
"Is that for the undercover operation, too?" he blurted. Brenda smiled at him.
"Is that?" she asked, her gaze dipping to his crotch. "Two more, Will," she said, "as nearly straight up and down as you can get them."
"Step back," Will told Fritz, and applied the stripes as ordered. Where each one crossed the underlying four a tiny bead of red glistened.
"Perfect," said Brenda. "Let the blood dry, Captain, and then get dressed. We don't want to be late for this party."
Apparently Raydor had decided that the world would not end if Will and Fritz saw her bare skin, or perhaps she'd finally realized that Brenda Leigh was in total control and would not allow power plays among her subs. She slipped off her skirt and her underwear and dressed herself out of the bags in lacy white panties and a white halter dress that left the marks on her back exposed to the eye, and white platform sandals that laced around her delicate ankles. Sharon found a place to hide her badge and her pistol, then Brenda applied something to Sharon's hair that left it glossy and curling in all directions and sprinkled it with glitter. She slipped white fur shackles over Sharon's wrists and fastened a leather collar around her neck.
"We're not paying for those cuffs, either," Will told her. "The department has shackles."
"Oh, please!" said Brenda. "Why don't we just walk in with our badges on our chests! Come on, sweetie," she said to Sharon, and stepped out her office door to find her entire squad standing and waiting for her. Buzz had the video camera running. Brenda smiled and twirled Sharon around. "What do you think?" she asked them. "Will she tempt the Butch Butcher?"
"If she doesn't," said Provenza, "we can assume he has changed his sexual orientation."
"Are you all right, Captain?" asked Gabriel. "With all of this?"
"Of course," Raydor told him. She spun around so her back was toward Gabriel. "Does it look okay, do you think?"
"Oh, yeah! I mean, it looks... effective. The perp should... I mean...."
"You look really hot," said Sanchez.
"Incredibly hot," said Flynn.
Brenda took Sharon by the hand.
"Let's go get him," she said. She turned to Will and Fritz, who were still standing in her office. "And you," she told Fritz, "do not touch him," she said, pointing to Will, "until I say so."
She snatched the bullwhip from Pope's hands and flounced out of the Murder Room, Raydor in tow, as Will looked into Fritz's eyes and saw mirrored there his own terror at that single word: UNTIL.
"Are you okay?" Brenda asked Sharon in the elevator.
"Of course."
"Not what you expected?"
"Not exactly."
"How's that?"
"I... I thought you were going to do it. I thought it would be just us."
Brenda stepped in front of the other woman and put her arms around her.
"I'm sorry," she said. "This got really real really quick, and I went farther than I should have, way too quick. From now on, it will be just us, until you ask."
"Until, Chief?"
"Close your eyes, Sharon, and visualize yourself using a strap-on on...."
Sharon's eyes flew open in shock.
"I think I might be dangerous with one of those," she said.
"I expect you will be, darling," Brenda said. She laid her head on Sharon's shoulder and found that her hands had begun massaging the other woman's ass with no particular instruction from her brain. She felt warm lips against her ear, then her neck.
"When we get there, tonight," she told Sharon, "ask before you touch me, okay?"
"May I kiss you, Chief?"
Brenda smiled and looked up to let Sharon's mouth cover hers, and found herself looking straight into the elevator security camera. Behind Sharon's back Brenda lifted her middle finger toward the anonymous watchers, closed her eyes and turned her attention to the kiss.
The club was dark, even with the red and purple strobes. Brenda thought she saw Irene Daniels sitting at a table with Sunny Nguyen from Robbery/Homicide, and she recognized two elegantly tall blond detectives from Narcotics who had assisted with a series of murdered sex workers the year before. She thought the foul-mouthed blond smoking a cigar investigated traffic fatalities, but she couldn't be sure. Somewhere in here there should be three other police officers, but Brenda had no idea where.
It didn't matter. As soon as they walked into the room, all eyes were on Sharon, on the shackles, the dress, and when she turned, on her ravaged back. Brenda pulled her out on the dance floor, away from the staring eyes and the things that were going on under tables and on them and up against walls. She held Sharon close and turned in a slow circle, surveying the room. It was Daniels in the booth, and her eyes had gone past extra large all the way to giant economy size. Brenda flashed her a wicked smile and squeezed Sharon's ass where Irene could see. Nguyen leaned over and asked Daniels a question, and when she replied the Asian girl's response was shock and a two-word expletive involving an intimate act. Brenda smiled at her, too, and continued turning in a languid circle. The taller of the Narcotics detectives folded her thin frame sideways in the booth to watch, and her partner raised a glass and flashed them an unbelievably brilliant smile.
"You know they all want you, don't you?" Brenda whispered to Sharon. "They want to slide their fingers inside you and then lick the slickness off."
"We're working, Chief," Sharon said.
"Yep, and you're having exactly the right effect." The song ended and she led Sharon to the bar.
"You guys are new here," said the bartender. She was a woman a year or so younger than Brenda with spiky red hair, a tiny barbell through one eyebrow and something hard under her sports bra over each nipple.
"You know your clientèle that well?" Brenda asked.
"I wouldn't forget the two of you," the woman told Brenda, "especially not her. You gonna pimp her out?"
"Oh, no!" Brenda told her. "This one's MINE! Make us a couple of mojitos, please?"
"Chief," whispered Sharon, "what is that on her chest?"
"Probably nipple clips."
Brenda had watched Sharon closely enough during their shopping trip and the scene in her office to know when something turned the other woman on, and she knew that beneath Sharon's wide-eyed shock was a flush of arousal.
"We could maybe find something like that, when we go back for the paddle."
"No!" said Sharon. "Not... not ever!"
"You sure? They make them with a chain between them, and it slaps against you when... when you move. Some of them have three clips: two for up here," and her fingertips barely touched each of Sharon's breasts, "and one for down here." Her hand settled in the other woman's lap.
"No," Sharon whispered.
"Okay," Brenda said. "Have you spotted anyone paying you any attention?" she asked. Sharon flushed.
"Everyone," she said. "Even the woman I suspended three months ago for knocking out a suspect's teeth is licking her lips."
"She knocked out...?"
"Just three of them. He grabbed her breasts."
"And you suspended her?"
"If she hadn't had a good reason, I would have had her fired."
"Okay, get back in character. Nipple clips. Chrome paddle. Some stranger's fingers making cir... thank you." The mojitos had arrived.
"You two from around here?" the bartender asked.
"Do I sound like I'm from around here?" Brenda asked.
"Just visiting, then?"
"Something like that. What else should we see, do you think?"
"Girl Bar is a nice dance club, but probably too tame for you. You look like you're comfortable around here. She local, or you bring her with you?"
"She's mine," Brenda said simply.
"Right."
Sharon leaned close to Brenda and asked about the ladies' room. Brenda pointed it out, and Sharon walked across the room, every eye in the place watching her swaying backside. Daniels apparently discovered a need to pee, too, and followed Sharon down the hall. Brenda, having finished her own drink, gulped down the remaining half of Sharon's and turned to order again, but the bartender had disappeared.
Fifteen minutes later, none of the three had returned. Detective Nguyen lifted an eyebrow at Brenda, who nodded. The two of them walked down the hall toward the restroom. The woman from Traffic snuffed out her stogy and followed, as did the two leggy blonds.
Irene Daniels was lying unconscious on the bathroom floor. "Officer down," Brenda said, knowing her wire would pick up every word. "In the ladies room. Stay with her, Detective...." she looked at the skinnier of the tall ones, who supplied her name.
"Winters," she said, "Reggie Winters."
"Stay with her, Detective Winters." The rest of them had their weapons out, the tall blond moving with agile athleticism and the girl from Traffic storming along beside her, and Brenda and Nguyen behind them. Outside sirens were wailing, and behind them the front door was breached and Sanchez and Provenza were identifying themselves and announcing a raid. Then the blonds were out the door and shouting. Brenda followed them and found the bartender holding a switchblade to Sharon Raydor's throat.
However, the bartender was an idiot. She pointed her knife hand at the blonds. Sharon stepped hard on the woman's instep, elbowed her in the midsection and spun out of her grasp. The two blonds were over the railing as if they could fly. The tall one pulled the bartender to the ground and the girl from traffic hit her in the face. By this time the alley was full of male officers who had come from the street, including Fritz and Will. Flynn stuck his head out the door, then went back in.
"Oh, fuck me!" wailed the blond from Traffic. "I knocked out the bitch's fucking tooth out again!"
"No, you didn't," said Sharon, leaning heavily on Fritz. "I did."
"No, ma'am, I'm pretty sure I did it. Shit!"
Brenda put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Detective," she said, "if I have learned nothing else in the last two years, I have figured out that when Captain Raydor uses that tone of voice, it behooves the rest of us to listen. The nice lady is trying to thank you for saving her life, here. Why don't we try paying attention?"
"Really, Karen," said Nguyen to the Traffic detective, "I think I did see her knock that tooth loose. Isn't that what happened?"
Karen nodded enthusiastically, and Brenda left her and went to the bartender. The tall blond had handcuffs on her and had wrestled her to her feet in one athletic move. Brenda exhibited her badge.
"You have got to be kidding," the woman said.
"Oh, I am deadly serious," Brenda said, "and you are under arrest for two counts of assaulting police officers, and that's just to start with. Get her out of her, Detective."
The woman marched the bartender down the alley toward the waiting black and whites.
"Brenda?" Will was standing with Sharon and Fritz. "We're going to need another bus."
"What's wrong?" Brenda said, crossing the alley rapidly.
"She bounced off the rough brick wall," Fritz said. Brenda looked at Sharon's back and saw that the skin had been knocked off each of the six angry welts, leaving raw flesh beneath. Sharon would carry Brenda's marks for the rest of her life.
Will found her beside the hospital bed where Sharon lay face down in a drugged slumber.
"They're releasing her tomorrow," he said, "if nothing goes wrong. Her family will be here in a little while. You probably don't want to be around then."
"She's mine, and I let her get hurt," said Brenda.
"She's a cop," said Will. "She's not the first officer to take a beating to make an undercover operation work, and she won't be the last. There'll be a commendation in it for her."
"And for the rest of them? Tracy and Nguyen and the rest, and especially Daniels?"
"You want me to give a commendation to someone who walked through a door and got clocked with a metal trash can full of used feminine hygiene products?"
"You wouldn't have to phrase it just like that, would you?"
"I'll think of something," he said. "You go on. Fritz is outside. Go home."
"I have to question...."
"The bartender's prints match those on each of the other victims. She confessed to Buzz."
"To Buzz?"
"You should have seen his face. Fortunately he had left the recorder running, and Detective Patterson mirandized her at the scene and again on video in the interview room."
"Sharp lady. Tough, too."
"And speaking of video, you are aware that you're a porn star, aren't you? The uniforms assigned to the elevator security cameras are selling DVDs for twenty dollars a pop."
"Oh, good Lord."
"Go home, get some sleep. I'll handle it, and I'll stay here until Sharon's family shows up."
Brenda pulled the door to behind her, then walked into Fritz's open arms.
"You through playing dominatrix for a while?" he asked.
"It's not funny," she said. "Sharon got hurt. I never had anybody get hurt before."
"This was not sex play, Brenda. It was an undercover operation, and it succeeded beyond belief."
"I should have gone with her to the bathroom."
"If you had, the perp would never have made a move. You guys did everything right, and you got a confession. Provenza says the perp said it was the welts that convinced her that you guys were on the level. You did everything right."
"What if...."
"We would have picked her up as soon as they came out of the alley. There was never a chance that anything would go wrong, Brenda. There was never a chance that Sharon...."
"But she did."
"It was a freak accident. She's going to be all right."
The elevator opened and a bevy of tall redheads poured into the hall: two broad-shouldered men and a woman who looked as formidable as Sharon herself, surrounded by spouses and children in their early teens and what appeared to be an elderly uncle.
"Let's give them room," said Fritz. He led her into the elevator and put his arms around her. Brenda squirmed free.
"I'm already in one elevator video on sale in this town," she said. "I don't even want to think about what it looks like."
"Then what do you want me to do with our copy?" he asked.
"I want to see that when we get home," she said.
"Only if you tell me what I'm not allowed to do to Will Pope until you say it's okay."
"Pervert."
"Pot. Kettle."
"I still have that bullwhip, you know."
"Oh, yeah," he said, "I know."