Detective

4

When she slowly leaned back,I did a take down her body; Boxers, white shirt, bare feet and exposed legs. I could smell her coconut shampoo and lotion, meaning she couldn't have showered more than an hour ago. She wasn't wearing makeup or anything else that could get smudged or ruined. Her hair was loose and she had deliberately put on a see-through white T-shirt before coming here. Her hardened nipples underneath revealed she wasn't wearing a bra. Even without this deduction, I could've said without a doubt in my mind that she came to get the void between her legs filled.

Meeting her eyes, I could see her getting aroused by the fact that she knew I just studied her.

"Why don't you just hold up a sign?" I said, leaning back against my kitchen sink.

"Because I like watching your eyes work," She smirked, stepping up to me, pressing a hand against my chest. "And reading is too boring for you, isn't it?"

She pressed her lips to my jawline and let her hand slide down my torso to the buckle of my belt. I closed my eyes.

Why do you let her do this? She's more fucked up than you, why do you keep sleeping with her?

I felt her hand slip into my unbuckled pants, rubbing my hardening member. I sighed. "Amy..."

"Come now, Detective Crane, what's holding you back? You were very willing last night."

My conscience, that's who's holding me back.

But then again, I never listened to it before, so why start now?

Gripping her hips, I brought my lips down on hers, meeting them with the same passion she offered. She moaned and leaned into me while still keeping her hand in my pants.

I pulled her hand out before picking her up and walking her to my bedroom. "You win, Amy."

~~~

"Why are we here, Leon?"

"Because I know you don't eat breakfast, so I thought I'd give you the opportunity to do so."

"Oh good grief, is this where I'm supposed to be flattered that you care? Because I'm really not."

"Enough, Russ, just look at the damn menu," Leon glared at me from across the booth at the diner we were in. According to their menu board outside, they served coffee, a delicious variation of breakfasts and sunny-side-up smiles. The annoying music they played in the background (which sounded alarmingly much like 80's music) was beginning to annoy me. Unfortunately that title had already been claimed by Leon who had refused to talk to me about the new information they'd gotten on the Russian case unless we got a bite to eat—and apparently Omeletta's Diner was his preferred choice.

"I don't eat while I'm working, digesting slows me down," I said, impatiently running a hand through my hair. I couldn't wait to get this over with. I had to be seriously desperate if I agreed to go to diners with police officers, just to avoid getting bored. I needed work.

"Yeah, and so does dying from malnutrition," Leon dryly added. "Just eat, will you?"

Gritting my teeth, I picked up the laminated menu card and skimmed it. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, omelettes, what a surprise. They served oatmeal, for crying out loud. "I think I'll stick to coffee."