Teaching jj

Chapter 15

In an attempt to divert her focus from the uncomfortable, increasingly-slick wetness in her panties, Emily e-mailed Hotch with their basic cover story, asking him to leave supporting documentation in their mailbox, immediately realizing that she'd omitted one crucial detail: their employment history. "It's going to be wonderful to live in the country after so much time in New York City, isn't it, Alexandra? I mean, just think about it: no more stressing over whether I'll find another freelance editorial job, no more nights where you can't sleep because you're questioning the morality of the business plan you just presented to some corrupt pharmaceutical company so you can protect them from the inevitable litigation they'll face once the drug has been approved and marketed to the public ..."

JJ nodded demurely and when Emily clicked "send," she received a text message back within minutes. There were no words, only a cell phone image of a typewritten notice from a "Spencer Reade" asking members of the community to hire him for assistance in tending to their gardens so he could save enough money to attend college while also serving as a part-time live-in caretaker to a "Mrs. Parsons." The listed address was right next door to the home where JJ and Emily would be staying.

Although it was somewhat unnerving to consider the possibility that Spencer might interrupt them in a moment of intimacy, Emily also knew that his proximity to their house would provide them with an additional sense of security while still allowing them to feel comfortable enough to fully enact their roles as lesbian lovers. When she considered his reaction to seeing them kiss one another, though, she had to suppress a smirk. Poor Spencer's head would probably explode!

After JJ reached the first exit since their unexpected stop on the shoulder of the highway and pulled into a parking space of the nearest truck stop motel, Emily showed her the photo. "I think we should hire him, don't you, sweetheart?"

JJ blinked her wide blue eyes, her gaze traveling from Emily's face back down to the snapshot on the phone several times, before she nodded in agreement, stammering, "Since we don't ... don't have any experience in gardening, it will be nice to have Sp ... to have someone right next door to help us out."

Emily smiled in relief. JJ had already started to become Alexandra Brewster, even after receiving only minimal training from Emily herself, the master of undercover disguises. She'd just have to remain alert - extremely alert - to any signs that JJ had lost herself completely in the assignment. Spencer's presence would provide invaluable, she already knew: both as a constant reminder of why they were there in the first place and as a way of communicating with the team via the exchange of handwritten notes. It would be Emily's responsibility to handle that aspect of the operation, she decided, since moving from one alias to another had never been problematic for her before.

Of course, she'd never allowed her true feelings and desires to play a role in her undercover operations before, either. And, as much as she tried to deny it, there was a part of her that did desperately want JJ to lose herself completely in the assignment, to fall in love with the person underneath the fictional mask Emily had been forced to wear. The mask that she could only remove during sex, the mask that would leave her perpetually wondering if JJ remembered that night they shared before this case, if JJ knew that it was Emily Prentiss and not Vivian Cook making love to her - and, even worse, perpetually wondering if she was making love to Jennifer Jareau or Alexandra Brewster, hoping against hope that it was the former and not the latter.

Emily shook her head harshly, banishing those thoughts from her mind as her black hair fluttered around her shoulders. "I'll go get the key," she offered to a somewhat-shaken JJ, who was undoubtedly having difficulty reconciling her new self as Alexandra Brewster with the intrusion of her real life as an FBI agent abruptly intervening in the transition.

When Emily returned and held up the keys, smiling, she saw JJ sigh with dismay before reluctantly turning off the engine and locking the doors to the car, trailing sluggishly behind her, like someone being led to the electric chair rather than to a motel bedroom.

Shit. This wasn't good. Whatever erotic chemistry they'd experienced earlier had dissipated with just one text message. Emily was going to have to bring it back, and fast.