Title: When somebody turns you on
By: lewis771750
Challenge: Heather Nova titles
Rating: PG-13 I guess, just in case.
Disclaimer: Not mine, Jerry and the people at CBS would never be quite this twisted:) But it is all just for fun, honest.
Spoilers: No
Words: 1014

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You know that feeling you get when someone turns you on, but your brain isn't really ready to admit it?

The emotional lift you get whenever that person walks in the room. The way a smile spreads over your face as soon as they give you any personal attention, especially if they give you positive attention. The happiness you feel with just a flicker of a smile, or the lifting of an eyebrow. The way you almost swoon with delight (except women aren't meant to do that any more, but you would, for her) when all they do is compliment you..

The hurt you feel when that person turns away, lifting a shoulder, and making those barriers between you. The little things that hurt you more than they should even when you know it's coming; it is part of the job after all. How can someone work a perimeter in the opposite direction to you and *not* turn their back on you? But it still hurts.

The accidental touches at work, handing over a cup of coffee and fingers touching, or looking at the evidence and shoulders bumping as you move in a small space. They are the best and the worst – you're sure that you blush every time it happens. You know for a fact that every time it does your nipples spring to attention and down in your belly things start to tighten up, a quick throb of pleasure running through you.

But what do you do when the person who turns you on hates you? With good reasons:

1) You remind her of someone, someone whose death she feels partly responsible for;
2) You fucked up the investigation of her exes death, never caught the bad guy or girl;
3) You've investigated one of her best friends on the team, behind his back, twice;
4) You've charged in and publicly set your cap at the boss, one of her oldest and truest friends, changing their relationship in the process.

What do you do if you're sure she's straight – kid, ex-husband, and a string of other men in her life as evidence?

What do you do if she thinks you're straight? It seems that setting your cap at the boss is good camouflage. Too good sometimes.

What do you do when somebody turns you on and they don't even know you might be interested?

My answer came last night. You trust to serendipity, and if you are meant to be together something will happen to make it work out.

I'd gone to a bar. It was one that the cops I work with characterise as a 'Dyke's Dive'; certainly it was a lesbian bar, but it wasn't a dive, not even by Vegas' standards. I wasn't exactly a regular, but I was there often enough that I knew some of the other people there. I was sitting, having a chat to a drinking buddy called Honey. By chance I'd sat so I could see the door, so when Catherine walked in I saw her immediately. I was stunned. I knew Honey was still talking to me, metaphorically crying on my shoulder about Lisa, her latest love, but I couldn't actually hear the words she was saying. Catherine had just walked into _my_ refuge, looking like she was there for a night out.

Honey carried on talking, oblivious to my distraction, and part of my brain heard just enough to keep saying 'yeah', 'no', 'u-huh' at the right times. At least until Catherine, looking around the bar, caught my eyes staring back at her. She didn't do a double take, she simply stood there, letting me stare at her, returning my gaze for a few seconds. Then she started walking. With that first movement I thought she would leave, but suddenly I realised she was just rounding the tables trying to get a better path towards me. Then I saw the way she was walking, giving just enough push into each step to get her hips swinging. Conversation stopped throughout the bar as everyone took in the show. Even Honey stopped talking and turned to see what was going on.

Catherine seemed oblivious to the attention she was getting, but then I guess she'd done more with less on for years, so a crowd of salivating women wasn't that scary for her. In fact, she started playing to the crowd, throwing in a bit more of a swing, slowing down, stalking towards me like a big cat.

The power of rational thought fled as she got closer and closer. I moved my head as if I were a puppet as Honey slipped out of the booth. I wanted, hell I needed to keep my eyes on this vision of Catherine as she came to me, Honey's body blocked the view so I moved to restore it.

Finally Catherine reached my table. It can only have taken a few seconds, less than a minute, but it felt like it had taken five years. Every little movement she'd made was going to be etched in my mind forever.

She didn't sit down, she didn't even ask, she just bent forward from the waist, leaning into me. My attention tracked up her body, leaving those swaying hips and coming to rest on that swelling cleavage as she bent down, and with a positive effort of will, (or perhaps some vestige of survival instinct) up to her face as she invaded my personal space.

Not that I complained as she pressed her lips against mine. I leaned right in and kissed her back, my arms coming up to reach out and hold her, to try and pull her closer to me. She didn't resist, in fact she helped, deepening our kiss, starting to probe with her tongue as she folded herself gently into my lap, throwing her arms around me.

I was too happy to worry about the whys and wherefores; I was lost in that moment. The moment when you realise that this somebody who turns you on, well they feel the same way.

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