**********
300 miles away, Blair stood in a small apartment on the fourth floor of a building in Greenwich Village. She casually studied the clothes hanging on a rack that had been pushed into the corner of a small bedroom, seeming to have forgotten the woman who had brought her there.
'Nice collection of ties you have here,' Blair commented as she fingered the lengths of silk and cotton draped over a hanger at the end of the rack. Without looking at the other woman, she continued, 'Let's see what kind of use we can put these to. Why don't you take your clothes off and lie face down on the bed.'
The young butch stared at her in amazement. Clearly, Blair's shoulder length blonde hair, tight white T-shirt, full breasts and graceful carriage did not necessarily spell 'femme'. As much as she hated to relinquish her butch dominance, she was intrigued and more than a little excited by the commanding town in Blair's voice. Trying to maintain her facade of nonchalance, the dark-haired body builder removed her leather and denim, pulled off her briefs, and shed her boots and socks. Naked, and feeling more than a little uncertain, she lay face down on her own bed, welcoming the pillow that allowed her to hide her face.
Blair crossed to her side, and slipped a loop fashioned from one of the ties around the woman's right wrist. She ran the length of fabric over the mattress and around the bed frame, quickly following suit with the other wrist and both ankles. Once the woman was totally immobilized, she removed the pillow.
'I want you to be able to breathe. But keep your eyes closed.'
Blair stepped back, lit several candles she had noticed on the windowsill, and placed them on the small bedside table. In the flickering candlelight, she allowed herself to study the woman's body. She was beautiful. Smooth tight skin; muscles rippling under the sweat-slick surface; thick lustrous hair just beginning to curl at the base of her neck. Her face in profile was sharply defined and arrogant even in repose. Altogether she was a fine specimen of young butch sexuality. Still, Blair struggled not to compare her form to the long lean lines of Cam's body. She did not want to remember the alluring maturity etched into Cam's elegant features, or the smoldering sensuality in her dark eyes, or the aching softness of her full lips. Blair had tried to eliminate the memory of Cam's arms around her with hours upon days of work in her secluded loft, and she had failed. The only way she could drive thoughts of Cam from her awareness was to fill her senses with the sight, and sound, and feel of another woman.
Still fully clothed, she climbed onto the bed and stretched out on top of the woman. She ran her fingers over the surface of the bound woman's arms, her lips and tongue tasting the salt at the base of her neck, sucking her ear lobe into her mouth. Dimly, she heard a groan as she captured the soft skin along the jaw between her teeth, tugging lightly, quickly erasing the pinpoints of pain with a kiss. Blair's captive struggled to turn her face, desperately seeking Blair's lips with her own. Blair ignored her, sitting up slightly so that she could trace the muscles of the other woman's shoulders and back and flanks, ending at her well-formed buttocks. Blair moved down the bed, her fingers kneading the thick gluteal muscles, pushing and separating them, exposing the cleft between them to her view. She traced the puckered muscle with a fingertip.
'Oh please,' the young stranger moaned, an edge of fear in her voice.
'Quiet,' Blair said softly. 'I won't hurt you.'
She knelt between the strong quivering thighs, lowering her face until she could trace the delicate tissues with her tongue. The tight sphincter spasmed as she pressed inward, her lips softly stroking the outer rim. She sucked lightly, then ran her tongue deeper into the cleft, tasting for the first time the thick heady juices of her young lover's desire. She ran her tongue lightly over the swollen lips, tracing the folds and furrows, circling the thickening clitoris, moving tantalizingly from one spot to the next.
'If --oh god, you make me want to come -- so badly,' gasped the young woman.
'Soon,' Blair murmured. She was lost in the sensations-- the smell, the incredible softness, the welcoming heat and enticing juices. This was woman, any woman,every woman. As she pressed her face deeper, immersing herself, she felt her lover's impending orgasm begin to build. Blair stretched out full-length on the bed, her arms encircling the woman's waist, her lips and tongue frantically stroking and caressing the engorged tissues. As the body beneath her convulsed, amidst sobs and cries and choked moans, Blair squeezed her eyes tightly closed, wanting to know only this incredible moment of intense connection. Even with the woman climaxing in her mouth, Blair couldn't help but wish that it was Cameron Roberts surrendering to her touch.
**********
Cameron rolled over and fumbled for the phone on the bedside table. The digital clock read 4:45. She was disoriented as to where she was and exactly what time it was. The bed beside her was empty, but there was a lingering warmth that suggested it had recently been occupied. As the phone rang insistently, her eyes adjusted to the dark and she recognized her own bedroom in Washington D.C. As her hand lifted the receiver, her mind registered her recent flight from New York and her frantic attempts to forget Blair Powell in the embrace of another woman.
'Roberts,' she growled, trying to ignore her unsettling thoughts.
'It's Mac, Commander. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I thought you would want to know--'
Cameron sat up abruptly in bed, her mind crystal clear, but her heart pounding. 'Is it Egret? Is she secure?'
'Yes ma'am,' Mac hurried to assure her. 'We have her under constant surveillance, and we know exactly where she is. But we did receive another contact from Lover Boy.'
That was the name the security team had given the UNSUB who had left the note at Blair's door.
'What is it?' Cam queried as she swung out of bed and began searching the room for her clothing. She noticed a folded sheet of note paper on her dressing table, and slipped it into the pocket of her trousers.
'Photographs,' Mac said grimly. 'There's a very good close-up of Egret leaving the apartment building yesterday afternoon.'
'Son of a bitch. That means he's been watching the building, from somewhere close by. How did you get them?' Cam was hastily buttoning her shirt and threading a narrow leather belt through the loops of her pants. She had found one shoe and was peering under the bed for the other.
'Stark noticed a manila folder propped up against the mailboxes in the lobby. It had Egret's name on it.'
Cam stopped abruptly in the middle of the floor, a shoe in one hand, her portable phone in the other. She felt a brief thrill of elation. 'Then we've got him! There are video cameras all over that lobby as well as the entrance.
