Irrefutable Evidence Part Eight

by CN Winters

See part one for disclaimers. Write the author at



A loud pounding on the door followed the announcement making both women jump.

Damn it, Sara cursed silently in her mind as Denise retrieved her shirt and quickly put it into place. Sara realized if she had just taken Denise by the hand to the bedroom they would be making love right now. Instead her bottom was starting to grow cold from the bathroom counter.

Denise excused herself to answer the door. When she returned to the bathroom she had an awkward smile and a handful of towels.

"I’m sorry," Sara finally whispered running her fingers through her blonde hair in frustration. "I just want you so much."

"If you haven’t noticed yet . . . the feeling is mutual," Denise said trying to grin. "But that doesn’t excuse what I just did here."

"You’re blaming yourself for this?" Sara answered. "For your information, it was I, and I alone, who made the moves here."

"Oh really," Denise smiled. "I don’t remember you being the one who got up on that sink," she added pointing to Sara who sat with her legs still spread where Denise’s body recently occupied. Self-consciously she closed her legs and hopped from the counter readjusting her garments. "Look," Denise began as she stepped closer. "You might think you’ve done . . . this . . ." Denise said waving her hands between them. She would have continued but Sara cut her short.

"This," Sara said mimicking Denise’s gesture. "This is my fault. You asked for distance. You asked me to ‘follow the rules’ and I couldn’t do that. You’ve been nothing but gallant. Loads of chivalry," Sara chuckled sadly. "while I on the other hand have been nothing more than a tease."

Denise watched Sara’s grin fall as the young woman tried to walk away.

"Sara," Denise said taking her by the upper arms. "I don’t think you’re a tease. I do however wonder if what’s going on between us is real. Desperate situations can lead to feelings that might seem genuine but in truth . . . it’s just an adrenaline rush. Plus it’s not ethical. You are my witness. I am your protector. If anything more were to happen DeVittem’s lawyers would have a field day and he might walk. And by the way, let’s throw in that pesky problem about focus somewhere in there too," Denise added with a grin, trying to lighten things up a bit. "Point is, I should have stopped sooner and I’m sorry if you’re mad with me. I would understand if you were."

"I’m not mad," Sara whispered, still looking despondent. "I’m just frustrated with life."

Denise pulled back and studied Sara’s face. She knew Sara wouldn’t be smiling anytime soon so she made a suggestion.

"Why don’t we get ourselves together and go out to get some food? All we had for dinner is a bag of airline peanuts and a stale ham sandwich. What do you say?"

"I already know what I want for dinner," Sara said suggestively and without forethought. Immediately, she slapped her forehead. "Forget I said that," she added.

Denise chuckled. "As I said the feeling is mutual but let’s stick to pasta or poultry. It’s safer at this point."

Sara nodded, "Agreed."

Denise gentle stopped Sara as she started to move again. "Are we . . . okay?" Denise said pointing back and forth between them.

Sara mustered a smile for the officer. "Yes Lt. VanCook," Sara replied, the good-natured teasing tone back in her voice. "We’re okay . . . Now let’s go eat."


The open-air café was busy although the hour was late. Sara and Denise both agreed the duck in wine sauce was superb. The waitress just brought their dessert orders of chocolate mousse and café au lait when Sara turned to Denise.

"So tell me your story?" she began.

"What do you want to know?" Denise asked, licking the mousse from her spoon.

"When did you realize you were bisexual?" Sara asked casually.

"Probably the same time as you. Perhaps a little sooner."

"I guess I was a late bloomer then," Sara chuckled. " Does anyone in your family know?" she added growing serious again.

"No . . . They’ve met a few women I was ‘really good friends’ with but they never knew our true relationship. I always felt it really wasn’t any of their business."

"Are you scared to tell them?" Sara asked.

Denise paused. "I don’t think it’s fear. It just never really came up. I never had a burning desire to walk into my parent’s house and say ‘Guess what, I’m bisexual’. I never had a serious relationship with a woman where I could feel the need to do that. But I think my mother has her suspicions."

"Why?" Sara asked puzzled.

"You mean besides the fact I’m 36 years old and never married."

Sara smiled. "I guess I could see that . . . You mentioned your mother but not your father."

"My father’s dead," Denise said flatly.

"I’m sorry," Sara offered.

"I’m not."

Sara took a nervous drink from her water glass upon Denise’s answer unsure of what she should say next.

"I’m sorry," Denise began. "That response kinda put you on the spot."

"It just caught me off guard is all," Sara said before returning to her drink.

"Well my father and I never really had a tight relationship. He was a good man . . . when he was sober. But that was rare. He liked to drink. Then he liked to fight. And when I got old enough to fight back things got a little bit better because mom and I weren’t the target anymore. He knew I’d kick his ass."

Sara let out a chuckle but quickly apologized for the reaction.

"That’s okay," Denise reassured her. "It was pretty damn funny actually. Especially the first time I went up against him. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He never saw it coming. I threw him head first into an end table.

By the time I had gotten the badge he’d quit the hard drinking under doctors orders so I never had to ‘arrest’ him. But his quitting came too late though. The bastard basically pickled his liver."

"Well don’t take offense but I’m still sorry," Sara replied.

Denise took a sip of her coffee before answering. "Why’s that?"

"Because I think our parents play a much bigger role in who we are than we care to admit."

Denise pondered on it for a moment. "I think it depends on what you do with how you’ve been raised that plays the larger role."

"How do you mean?" Sara asked, going back to her mousse.

"Well my dad was a drunk. I don’t drink at all. My father was abusive. And I try to stop abusers . . . It’s not so much where we’re from but where we’re going that matters," Denise answered.

"And where are you going Lt. VanCook?" Sara smiled.

"All the way to the top," she grinned. "Chief of Detectives . . . Perhaps the Commissioner. Maybe even Mayor someday . . . Well perhaps not Mayor. I like to think I’m too honest to play those kind of politic games," she grinned.

"Well then," Sara said raising her glass. "Here’s to Commissioner VanCook."

"I’ll drink to that," Denise winked as she finished the last of her ice water.

The waiter brought the check to them and Denise reached for it. Sara was quicker however and snatched it away.

"Hand it over," Denise playfully ordered.

"Nope," Sara said putting the money on the table and securing it with her glass. "My treat. Now let’s go."

"I thought I was the one who gave the orders around here," Denise teased as she rose while Sara got up as well.

"Not when it comes to food," Sara teased. "Isn’t that what Angie says?" she asked.

"Oh boy," Denise smiled. "Looks like I got another feisty woman when it comes to food in my life."

They walked down the street back to the hotel in quiet company until Denise spoke. "Okay I told you most of my story tonight. So what happened with your last relationship?"

"Andrea? The one I caught with someone else?"

"Yeah . . . How long were you together?"

"Five years . . . We were introduced through a mutual friend. It was a blind date and we met in one of the local gay bars. When she walked in I prayed she was the one . . . Imitation Barbie Dolls make me sick but I like women who have feminine features with stature. And not just height but a sense of presence. You know, the kind that just controls a room as soon as they walk in.

Her red hair was short and she had this sexy, confident walk. As soon as we spoke it was instantly intense. Six months later we moved in together . . . I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with her but my long hours began to take their toll.

I realized what was happening so I decided to turn over a new leaf and surprise her one Friday night by coming home early. I stopped at the florist for her favorites – lilies – as well as our favorite restaurant for a bottle of wine she always loved. She was surprised all right. So was I. So was the woman in our bed . . . I just remember dropping the wine and the flowers on the floor. I walked out and didn’t look back."

"Did you ever try to get back together?" Denise asked in a gentle voice.

"She wanted to but I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t trust her . . . How can you love someone you don’t trust?"

"I don’t think you can," Denise offered.

Sara sighed and looked up at the full moon above them. "She hurt me greatly but that was awhile ago . . . I’ve gotten past it."

"Sounds like you’re still in pain," Denise commented softly.

"Well, there’s always going to be a scar. I guess I should say I’ve gotten over it as best as I can. At least I’ve begun to think that I can find someone out there who’ll be faithful to me . . . But time heals all wounds, despite how cliched that sounds," Sara chuckled.

As they arrived at their suite Denise went in first and turned on the lights, inspecting everything and giving the all clear.

"Do you mind if I spend a few moments alone?" Denise asked.

"No. Of course not . . . Are you okay?" Sara asked concerned.

"I’m fine," Denise grinned, flattered by Sara’s concern. "I just have to call Angie."

"Which phone did you want to use?" Sara asked.

"I’ll go in the bedroom," Denise said as she locked the front door. "I’ll be done in a few minutes."

Sara walked over and turned on the radio, giving Denise more privacy as the officer made her way to the bedroom. Denise’s heart was in her throat as she picked up the phone. It would probably be the most difficult conversation in their partnership. She had to ask Angie how she and Sara were found. Part of Denise hoped that Angie would still be at the office. The other part wished she could just postpone things for just one more day. She swallowed hard when she heard Angie’s voice.

"Hi. It’s Denise," she began, hoping Angie would start the conversation. As always, Angie was dependable.

"Hey! You’re lucky you caught me. I was just finishing up our backlog of paperwork. Do you realize how many trees I’ve put to death today?" Angie said happily. Soon her voice quickly changed to one of concern. "You were going to call tomorrow. Did anything happen?"

"You could say that," Denise answered.

"Are you okay?! How’s Sara?"

"We’re both okay," Denise answered. "We left the Bahamas."

Angie could tell by Denise’s sober tone that something was wrong. "Why? What happened?" she asked.

"They found us again," Denise replied. Angie could hear the distance in Denise’s voice by the shortness in her words.


"That’s what I need to ask you." Denise did her best to hide her suspicion. "Did you tell anyone where we were?"

"No!" Angie replied offended. "You said not to say anything so I haven’t."

"Well Sara says she didn’t tell anyone."

"Do you believe her?" Angie said with a hint of anger.


Denise didn’t add more. She couldn’t. She was too frightened by what she might add. The silent tension was almost maddening.

"So you think I said something," Angie said, beginning to raise her voice in distress.

"All I know is Sara didn’t tell anyone and you’re the only one who knows where we were."

"I don’t like what you’re implying," Angie stammered, growing more upset.

"I’m not implying anything," Denise answered.

"The hell you’re not!" Angie countered quickly. "After all these years together you’re going to take the word of a woman you’ve known for about a month!"

"Look!" Denise yelled into the phone. "I’m hundreds of miles from home with no way to find out who the source is. So far the only lead I have is you and-."

"Me?!" Angie shouted.

"Goddamn it Angie! Let me finish!" Denise took a deep breath, calming herself down so she could continue. When Angie didn’t say anything more, Denise continued. "The only lead I have is you and I know it’s not you so I need your help."

Angie could tell Denise was trying to relax the conversation but Angie wasn’t quite ready yet. "Are you sure she didn’t call anyone?" Angie asked, the irritation still heavy in her voice.

"I’m positive. I’ve been with her 24 hours a day . . . You have to help me," Denise pled in a soft tone.

Angie sat silent on the phone. Maybe it wasn’t a suspicious tone she heard from Denise. Slowly she began to feel reassured that Denise was proclaiming her innocence.

"What do you need me to do?" Angie asked.

"See the judge," Denise instructed her. "Tell him what’s going on out here and see if he’ll move the trial up. I think someone may have tapped the line. Bring someone in, independently of the department, to check it out."

"Alright. As for the judge, I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get an appointment with him," Angie replied.

"I’ll call around 5 pm tomorrow so stay at the stationhouse until at least 6 just in case. Let me know when you can see him, okay?"

Angie didn’t say anything. She was still hurt by Denise’s accusing manner. And Denise knew exactly what the silence meant.

"I know it’s not you," Denise began, ". . . but I don’t know who it could be. I’m really frustrated here . . . Hell I can’t even tell you where here is," Denise added in frustration.

"I understand," Angie finally muttered. "If I was the one out there I couldn’t see the situation any different. I’ll wait for your call tomorrow."

"Good," Denise replied. "Now tell me how things are going back home."

"Oh fine," she began. "Genar is in my face everyday wanting to know where you are. Everybody else thinks you’ve been locked up in a loony bin and Wagner is wandering around like a moron."

"So not too much as changed then," Denise chuckled.

Angie let out a small chuckle too. Denise knew an unspoken truce was taking shape. "No. Not really," Angie added.

"Well, just keep your eyes open and watch your back okay?" Denise said with deep concern.

"You too Denise," Angie said sincerely.

The pair said their good-byes and Denise walked toward the living room. Sara looked up from her magazine when she saw Denise in the bedroom doorway.

"I couldn’t help but overhear some of the conversation," Sara confessed.

"I hate it when Angie and I fight . . . But I think she understands I wasn’t accusing her . . . I just have to get home to figure out who’s tipping off DeVittem’s thugs."

"If Angie is innocent like you say, I’m sure she’ll figure it out."

"I know she’s innocent," Denise said firmly as she took a spot on the sofa next to Sara.

"I believe you," Sara replied. "And I know how much you mean to her. She’ll catch ‘em. If not for the sake of this case then definitely for your well being. I don’t think I’ve ever seen two women who love as deeply as you two who weren’t either related or sleeping together."

Sara stroked Denise’s hair in sympathy, not seduction as hours earlier. "I can tell you’re tired and frustrated. Why don’t you try to get some sleep? We’ll share the bed and I promise . . . I’ll keep my hands to myself," Sara grinned.

Denise smiled and hoisted herself off the sofa. "Are you coming?" she asked.

"No . . . I won’t be held responsible for my actions if I see you undress. Like you said it’s safer at this point so I’ll stay on the couch for now," Sara winked. "Seriously, get some rest Denise. I’ll be okay."

Denise nodded and offered a goodnight as she slipped into the bedroom. Sara reciprocated and she watched Denise move confident and graceful even in her tired state.

Stature, Sara thought as she went back to her magazine giving it a slight ruffle to focus her attention. Another gal with stature.



It was 7 am sharp when Angie showed up at the Wayne County jailhouse.

"There’s a detective here to see you DeVittem," Angie heard one of the guards announce from outside the door of the examination room.

DeVittem walked in, adjusting his blue jail clothes as if he were royalty – a Latin lover, showing off his curly chest with three top buttons undone on his shirt. He seemed to tower over the guard as he walked in. Angie silently pointed to a chair across from her casually, not the least bit intimidated by his size.

It was a modest room with one barred window, one table and three chairs. The walls were made of cinder block and a frosted glass and metal door covered the entrance. The guard was going to stay but Angie asked if he could just wait outside. The officer obliged and took up post in front of the closed door.

"I’m surprised you could fit that chip on your shoulder through that narrow door DeVittem," Angie began as he took a seat. "Actually I’m surprised to see you here at all. I’m sure you could come up with a cool million to post bond."

"You’ll have to check the record better. Folks on welfare don’t have a million bucks just lying around. It’s hard for an honest, decent man to find work these days."

DeVittem spent years operating the welfare system as a means to never ‘formerly’ declare what he did ‘for a living’ to the IRS. Angie was compelled to knock the cocky grin off his face as he proceeded to lean back on two legs of the chair.

"Well when I find an honest man I’ll ask him if that’s true," Angie retorted instead.

DeVittem gave the sergeant a grin brought the bile to her throat. His cavalier attitude was making her sick. When she didn’t add more, DeVittem spoke up.

"So what brings you here today Sgt. Michaels?"

It was Angie’s turn to grin. "I don’t recall giving you my name," she commented, hoping to snare him into saying something. "Care to tell me how you know it?"

"Your reputation proceeds ya dear sergeant . . . That, and the fact I saw ya on TV the other night," he said with a wink.

"Oh really," Angie replied, keeping her cool. She was sure that DeVittem knew her name long before her recent T.V. appearance. He probably knew everything about her – her shoe size all the way down to her favorite color, blue.

"Yeah," DeVittem said as he folded his strong arms across his large tan chest. "Seems a couple windows got busted out by the ‘burbs. That’s what ya said on the news broadcast wasn’t it Sgt. Michaels? . . . Some folks just have no respect for other peoples property huh?"

He was one piece of work all right. Angie held her grin and rose waking around to DeVittem. She leaned down, getting close to his ear.

"Between you and I Carlos…off the record," she said softly. "Who is it?"

"I have no idea what you’re talking about sergeant," he grinned. "But I will say this since ya seem to have a ‘problem’ of some kind," he said vaguely, ". . . keep your friends close sergeant but keep your enemies closer."

Angie didn’t come here for cryptic messages. "Call it off. You’re not gonna get to this witness," she warned him in a menacing tone. "You’re not gonna win this time . . . So if you help me out now, you might get a better sentence for being a ‘decent’ man."

DeVittem continued to rock on his chair with his grin firm on his face. "What’s that saying? . . . Oh yes . . . ‘Accidents happen’."

Angie lost her reserve at that point and with a firm kick the teetering thug landed flat on his back - chair and all. The guard burst into the room to find out what caused the commotion.

"It’s okay. Mr. DeVittem went a little too far," she told the guard pointing to the chair. The irony of the statement wasn’t lost on DeVittem. "Accidents happen. Right pal?" she asked DeVittem as she offered her hand to help him up.

He batted it away and rose by himself as she made her way to the door.

"Take him back to his nice comfy cell," she told the guard. ". . . the one he’s using now before we ship him out to the state prison in Jackson," she added in a final jab to DeVittem.

As Angie began to leave she could have swore she heard the word ‘bitch’ uttered but she knew that couldn’t have come from DeVittem. After all, he was an honest, decent man. The interrogation wasn’t fruitful like she had hoped but knocking DeVittem on his ass was cathartic, making her grin - a grin that stayed with her all the way to her car.



Sara and Denise decided to do some window shopping along St. Catherine and Sherbrook Streets. Denise’s eyes never rested for a second. She inspected every passerby; every parked car. But after awhile, Denise relaxed enough to enjoy the city scenery – architecture of centuries pasts combined with the latest designs of the last few decade.

Boutiques and cosmetic stores lined the avenue. They were filled with all the latest fashions with bold colors at outrageous prices. Sara stopped in front of one of the windows as Denise kept walking.

"Did you find something?" Denise asked as she turned around and walked back.

"Not for me," she said taking Denise’s hand and leading her. "For you . . . Come on."

Sara tugged a reluctant and moaning Denise into the store. They were met by a woman that Denise felt had a ‘snobbish air’ although she didn’t have the chance to vocalize the thought.

"Do you require help?" she asked, in a thick French accent.

"Yes. Do you have that green dress . . ." Sara looked Denise over judging her. " . . . in a size 8?"

"Yes Madame," the clerk said walking over to a rack.

"What are you doing?" Denise leaned down and whispered to Sara.

"I want you to try this on," Sara whispered back before quickly making her escape to speak to the clerk. Denise followed soon after, shaking her head.

"Here Madame," the clerk said, handing Sara the dress.

"Here Madame," Sara repeated handing it off to Denise. Denise rolled her eyes in response and she didn’t immediately reach for it. "Please," Sara pleaded, "Try it on for me."

Denise sighed but took the outfit from Sara just the same and proceeded to the changing room. After a few moments Denise emerged wearing the garment. The deep forest green ensemble came with a short sleeves and a short skirt. The color brought out the jade of Denise’s eyes and the cut showed off her gorgeous figure. Sara felt her jaw drop but she regained herself quickly and turned to the clerk.

"Do you have some accessories that would accent this outfit?"

"Of course Madame," the clerk said leaving again. Denise turned to look at herself in the mirror and Sara walked up behind her.

"Do you like it?" Sara asked.

"I don’t know. What do you think?" Denise asked with a smile.

Sara studied Denise’s reflection to see the front of the suit while using her own eyes to see the back. "You want the truth?" Sara asked.

Denise nodded as she continued to examine her new look in the mirror.

Sara studied Denise a moment longer. Oh what the hell . . . "Damn, you look hot!" Sara exclaimed in a heated whisper.

The omission made Denise giggle bashfully but she quickly brushed it off as the clerk returned. Sara took the necklace the woman had brought and placed it slowly around Denise’s neck. After she hooked the clasp, Sara ran her hands delicately around Denise’s hair, pulling it up so the jewelry sat in its proper place. Next Sara handed Denise the matching earrings and watched hypnotically as Denise tilted her head to one side and then the other as she put them in place.

"Shoes," Sara considered out loud. "Do you have shoes?" she asked the clerk.

"Yes Madame," Sara answered before turning to Denise. "What size do you wear?" the clerk asked.

"9 ½," Denise answered.

"Pumps or flats?" the clerk asked.

"Pumps," Sara replied before Denise could. She examined the tall woman’s legs as she spoke. "Definitely pumps."

"I will return shortly," the clerk announced in choppy English before scurrying to the back of the store.

Two more customers entered the store but Sara was too wrapped up in Denise to notice them. Denise, however, kept watch on them until she decided they were nothing more but fellow shoppers. That’s when Denise noticed the sales tag. "Oh God!" Denise exclaimed loudly but quickly lowered her voice.

"What?" Sara asked nervously, looking around the store.

"This dress is $450," she whispered to Sara.

"So what?" Sara replied in a ho-hum voice.

"So what?!" Denise replied. "That’s a month’s car payment. I’m not spending $450 on a dress, let alone accessories and shoes."

"Who said you’re buying it?" Sara said with a smile.

"Well I’m not gonna let you buy it," Denise argued.

"You can’t stop me," Sara countered. "It’s my money. If I buy a dress that just happens to fit you and looks fabulous on you that’s my prerogative."

"Sara," Denise sighed. "Please don’t buy this. It’s too much."

Sara placed her hands on her hips in defiance. "Do you think you’re going to owe me anything if I buy it?"

"No," Denise answered quickly. "You’re not that kind of person."

"Well then I’m going to buy it. You look too damn sexy in it to pass it up."

Denise was about to argue again but Sara placed a finger across her lips.

"End of discussion," she said cutting the lieutenant short.

The clerk returned and Denise slipped on the shoes.

"How do they feel?" Sara asked.

"Perfect," Denise grumbled, throwing her hands in the air, giving up. "Just like the rest of it."

"Great!" Sara replied, not letting Denise’s negativity affect her in the least. Sara handing her credit card to the clerk who took it to the register. "Let’s get the tags off," Sara added as she began to remove them.

The clerk returned for Sara to sign the slip so the blonde walked to the counter. Sara continued to watch Denise as she signed for the merchandise. Sara quietly admired Denise as she adjusted the skirt and blouse, totally enchanted by the cops beauty. It was more than just Denise’s outward appearance. The outfit seemed made for the brunette – the lines showed off Denise’s broad shoulders and curvy waistline. It was almost as if it were a testament to Denise’s strong demeanor and feminine features, accenting both perfectly.

After the transaction was finished, Denise’s street clothes were placed in a shopping bag.

"Thank you for all your help," Sara told the clerk.

"No . . .Thank you," the clerk said graciously.

"Shall we?" Sara asked Denise, with a grand sweeping gesture of her hand toward the front door.

"I don’t know what to say," Denise told Sara making the deepest of eye contacts. "Thank you doesn’t seem to suffice . . . but thank you."

"You’re welcome and don’t forget it. You’re worth every penny and then some," Sara winked. Denise’s cheeks got red as she smiled at Sara. "Let’s go to the café in Place Villa Marie for lunch. What do you say?" Sara suggested.

"Sounds great!" Denise replied enthusiastic and grateful that Sara was changing the subject. She didn’t want her red cheeks to be the next topic of conversation.

Sara and the clerk exchanged thank yous again as she and Denise left the store. When Sara and Denise passed two young men they noticed their heads turn as they admired them.

"Told ya, you look hot," Sara teased, intertwining her arm through Denise’s playfully.

"I think they’re looking at you," Denise replied conspiratorially.

Sara turned to see the young men still watching them. Sara stopped and turned Denise around to face her. She placed a slow burning kiss on Denise’s lips and when she broke away, she gave a slight wave to the admirers. Denise and Sara watched as the men grew wide-eyed and slack jawed. Sara and Denise started to chuckle and make their way down the street, again arm in arm.

"I love to do that," Sara laughed as she pitched a thumb toward the guys behind them.

"You’re bad," Denise chuckled.

"Serves them right," Sara joked. "Plus it let’s them know they don’t have a single chance of picking us up."

"But does it always work?" Denise asked. "Many men have the ‘lesbian fantasy’."

"I’ve learned straight men are much more intimidated by a woman’s sexuality when in

the company of other men. I’m not sure why that is but remember this for future reference: If a man is admiring you and your female lover when he’s alone, he’ll move heaven and earth to try to have a threesome."

Denise began to chuckle at Sara’s equation.

"It’s true," Sara said joining in Denise’s delight.

"I believe you. Men have a hard time taking no for an answer," Denise replied.

"Is that a quality you like about them?" Sara asked.

"Yeah," Denise replied after a short thought. "I like perseverance. Men can be very persistent."

"But so can women," Sara countered with a devilish grin.

"Believe me I know," Denise said as she looked at Sara accusingly.

"Oh I’ve been very good on this trip," Sara replied. "I won’t be canonized any time soon," she admitted. "But I’ve been very good on the whole."

"If you’ve been good I’m not sure I could handle ‘bad’," Denise confessed

"What’s the tired cliché, ‘When I’m good I’m very good but when I’m bad I’m better’," Sara said with a sly smile, playfully bumping into Denise as they walked.

"Is that true?" Denise asked alluringly, getting caught up in the game again.

"I’d love to show you," was the silky response.

Denise stopped walking for a moment admiring Sara’s perfect smile. A light breeze pushed Sara’s small blond locks of hair into her face. Denise gently pushed them away, caressing the skin as she went.

But then Denise started to shake her head in disbelief. Sara wouldn’t give up. And although Denise said she wanted to end the ‘games’ her body cried out for the contact. She loved the sexual fire that scorched through her veins when they were together like this.

"You know how I feel," Denise answered. "and you know what’s at stake."

Sara nodded silently. "You really do look beautiful in that outfit," she added with a cunning grin.

What have you gotten yourself into this time Denise? the cop wondered to herself for a moment. "You’re impossible," she told Sara.

"And you love it," Sara countered, wrinkling her nose in defiance of Denise to say otherwise.

"Come on," Denise smiled as she lightly pulled Sara long. "Let’s go get that food before we get ourselves in trouble again."

After an entire day of shopping and talking, Denise and Sara were back at the suite. Denise felt Sara’s eyes heavy upon her all day. Sara said she bought the new dress for Denise but they soon realized Sara purchased it for herself as well. Denise could tell the ‘not so cheep thrill’ Sara got by admiring her in it.

Denise could see Sara looking at her in the mirror of the living room as she took off the accessories – the necklace first and then the earrings. She took her time removing them. It was slow; seductive. Denise’s movements absorbed Sara yet Denise was the one who was soaking it up. Denise continued to watch Sara behind her through the looking glass. Suddenly, however, Denise watched a change wash over Sara that looked like sorrow in the blonde’s eyes.

"What’s wrong?" Denise asked, turning around to face her.

Sara grinned for show and shook it off. She was being silly, pining for something she couldn’t have – a stunningly beautiful and brave woman who was too damn noble for both their ‘own good’. "I’m okay," she replied, hoping that would be enough to satisfy Denise’s curious nature.

"No you’re not," Denise said sympathetically. "What’s the matter? Homesick?"

Sara gently smiled. "No . . . the best part about home is here with me now, taking out her earrings," Sara complimented Denise with a warm grin. "I’m not lonely with you around."

"What is it then?" Denise asked as she leaned against the small accent table under the mirror.

Sara paused. Denise could see that Sara was troubled. And Sara could see that Denise wouldn’t let it go until she had the truth. She admired Denise for a moment longer unsure if she should give voice to what she’d been feeling. Be brave, the blonde decided.

"I’m falling in love with you."



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