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Rachel is slumped glumly in front of the monitor with her chin resting on her hands, marker pen slung on the desk so she can label each DVD with the specific acts of perversion it contains. How long has she been doing this for now? It seemed like hours; probably was. At least her time with Sex Crimes had made it even more difficult to shock her. Most of this was boring, a lot of it bizarre and some of it, well, some of it, okay, was pretty sordid stuff.
The door opens and Gill comes in. She stands behind her, hands on the back of her chair. “How are you getting on?” she asks, her voice lifting a little in inquiry and Rachel resists the temptation to twist round to see the expression her face. She doubts Gill would look at this any way other than impassively. Gill has probably seen a thousand times worse than this more times than Rachel had had hot dinners - or late night Weetabix.
“Oh, you know, it’s ... ” she lifts her hands, palms up and sighs, for want of being able to find a succinct vocabulary.
“Mmm”, Gill replies. Rachel feels her rather than sees her nod towards the screen. There is a long pause where she doesn’t say anything. “You’d look beautiful like that”, she says, quietly. “Your face covered in it, all over your tits ... ” Her tone is balanced, observational. “Dripping out of you ... ” The words hang in the room, making the actual sight of the used and abused girl, covered in the semen of at least twenty men, seem almost polite.
Of all the things that Rachel has ever heard Gill say, this is just ... she knows fine well she heard it properly and she feels colour flame over her cheeks. There is an unmistakable jolt between her legs because ... how can Gill even think that, let alone say it? She has frozen, a strange tight feeling in her chest. Is she holding her breath? Has she stopped breathing all together?
Gill leans over her shoulder and Rachel sees her fingers reach into the bag of Haribo on the desk. She picks one out and turns to go. She closes the door firmly behind her. It’s only the trailing scent of her perfume and the echoes of the words spoken that force Rachel to believe that she was here at all. There is the feeling between her legs too, of course. Would there be one less Haribo? That would prove it. But you’d have to know how many there were in the first place. An unknown quantity. Rachel shivers and reaches for the marker pen.
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Rachel finds herself with an excruciating dilemma. She essentially has two options. She can ignore it, and maybe that’s the right thing to do. Or she can confront DCI Murray about it - but say what, exactly? Why were you verbally fantasising about me being gang-banged while I was in the same room with you? What would she be hoping to achieve? And that was the real question.
As ever, it was the end of a long day and only Gill and Rachel were left in the office. Janet had picked up that Rachel seemed a little ‘off’ and had suggested a quick one over the road but Rachel had already decided that she had to see Gill before she went home. She couldn’t spend a night with those words running through her head, filthy and ... what, exciting? Frightening? Challenging ... who knew? Rachel had already learned ruefully that Gill would probably head-fuck her for a lifetime. But she couldn’t just ignore it, could she? It might be easier but it would make her a coward and Godzilla might think lots of things about her but she wasn’t having her think that. If this was some kind of test she would pass it her way.
“Boss?”
Gill lifted her chin, didn’t stop typing, her nails jittering on the keyboard.
“Can I ... ?”
If Gill nodded it was imperceptible and Rachel came in and closed the door anyway.
Rachel didn’t sit down and she didn’t say anything. It forced Gill to look up at her over her glasses. “What can I do you for?” she asked amiably and of course as usual Rachel was struck dumb. It was her beauty and her cheekbones and her sheer defiant implacability.
She took a breath and for a moment was tempted to bring something up from a routine case she was working on. Before she could decide that was a good idea, she blurted, “What you said. Before. I ... wanted to see ya” she finished lamely.
Gill took off her glasses and leant forward, her elbows on the desk. “What I said when?” she asked.
“In ... the video suite”. Rachel tried to keep her voice loud enough.
Gill stood up. “Put your hands flat on the desk, Rachel, and keep them there until I tell you otherwise” she said and Rachel did it, unthinkingly, confused.
Gill walked around the desk so she was behind Rachel and Rachel was left facing where her boss had been sitting.
“You would be way more stupid than I give you credit for if you’re thinking of making an official complaint. I doubt anyone would believe you, it would entirely discredit you and last but not least please be assured that I would see you back in uniform, miles - literally - from MMP, and that would be if I didn’t recommend that you lost your job”.
Gill was hovering not quite behind her, in her peripheral vision and it was maddening. Rachel twisted her head a little to look at her. The expression on her face wasn’t vindictive or cruel. She just looked collected, really. Self-assured. Of course she did, why wouldn’t she? She was absolutely right.
“I don’t ... I don’t want to make a complaint. Of course I don’t. You know I don’t - and I wouldn’t”. She didn’t, either. She knew how much she owed Gill already; all her little indiscretions that Gill deliberately overlooked and the leeway that she gave her sometimes. She knew no one else got the benefit of the doubt that she did.
“So what did you want to say to me then?” Gill asked and now Rachel could hear the subtle tease, the challenge in her voice.
Rachel tried to twist a little so she could face Gill but only her fingertips were left on the desk and Gill wasn’t having that.
Gill cleared her throat, moved close behind Rachel and tapped the table with her polished nails. “Hands on the desk. Keep them there. I don’t want to have to tell you again”.
Rachel tried not to click her tongue in frustration. She had kept her bloody hands on the desk, so Godzilla was just looking for a reason to tell her off. Clearly endlessly bitching at her about out-of-date yoghurt in the office fridge wasn’t satisfying enough anymore.
“Did you want to tell me that you liked it, then?” Rachel’s hair fell over her face a little as she bowed her head at the sound of that. “Or that you want me to stop saying what I --”
Rachel heard her actually stop, bite her lip, pull herself up short. This wasn’t for effect. “What you ... what?” she challenged.
She could feel Gill behind her again. She wasn’t touching her but she could feel a heat from her, an energy. It made her have to try very hard not to shiver.
“What I feel ... ” She let that hang and it sounded angry and Rachel wondered if Gill could hear her swallowing.
“I don’t think ... ” and the younger woman stopped. She didn’t know what she was trying to say. To be fair, she thought that Gill had only really said it to shock her, test her ... because she could. She never really thought that she actually meant it. Of course she knew that her DCI was ... you know, shagging a much younger bloke so it wasn’t like she was some kind of frigid divorcee but still it was a long shot to think that she would be likely to fantasise over her subordinate officer like ... that, especially. It was very nearly depraved. But she couldn’t put that into words so she stopped talking.
And if she hadn’t have done, she soon would’ve when she felt Gill’s fingers slowly running up one of her thighs and moving over her arse. She took her hand away.
“No, you don’t, usually ... sometimes I wonder if it’s not one of your better qualities”. And then the hand was back. It was light, a caress, exactly contrived to unsettle her, raise the hairs on the back of her neck and almost wonder if Gill meant to do it. But Rachel, of course, knew her better than that.
“Sometimes you don’t leave me much choice. If I thought about any of this stuff-- ” and her fingers raised and wiggled a little while she kept her palms on the desk, “-- I’d go mental, don’t you reckon?”
Nothing said and no touching ... oh, but Gill didn’t like to be talked back to ... had she gone too far already?
She could feel Gill moving closer, and her hand pulled a swathe of her hair over her shoulder so she could mutter into her ear. She held her hair back and leaned close. “Have you been thinking about what I said?”
Rachel tried very, very hard to stay still. When she opened her mouth, she croaked. “I mean ... yes. I ... of course”.
“Well, let’s see”, said Gill and she just reached her hand round to Rachel’s stomach and where her trousers were buttoned. She slid her fingers under the waistband and just pushed her hand down smoothly, underneath her knickers and then her fingers were there, just there, snug against her and just rubbing slightly in between her folds like she was making sure her fingers would fit. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Is that what she’s done to me? thought Rachel. Just made me accept this? I’m leaning over a desk thinking it’s perfectly normal to be waiting to be fingered by my boss ... and not only that ...
Gill moved closer, pressing her body against Rachel’s back. “So the question is, what is it that made you so wet? Me, here, now? Or watching four and a half hours of back to back pornography?”
“Fuck, boss ... I ... ”
“You don’t have to answer, Rachel. Not yet”. Gill brought her knee up in between Rachel’s thighs and knocked her legs apart a little. “I want to give you plenty of time to come up with the right answer”.
It was already becoming very hard for Rachel to stay silent. Gill wasn’t really moving her fingers, she was just ... keeping them there, with pressure, and that was the challenge. If she moved against that pressure, if she ... moved at all, she knew what Gill would take her for and she knew what it would do for her, too. She had been singing with tension all afternoon and ... aroused, purely and simply. Nothing could eradicate the sensation and truly, the pornography had left her cold; had left her eating sweets, cringing, laughing and watching between her fingers. But when her DCI came out with her obscene fantasy ... that was it. You fucking had me from there.
“Why are you doing this to me?” Rachel didn’t ask and they had come to some kind of stand off. The challenge was for the other to take this further. It’s hard when you’re stubborn and you meet your match.
And Rachel bit her lower lip and clutched the edge of the desk hard and willed herself to stay still. But all Gill had to do was just press with her fingers a tiny bit harder against her clit. It was almost imperceptible but Rachel knew exactly what she was doing. And Gill moved her body close against Rachel’s and a heat engulfed the younger woman. Then Gill just rubbed a little with her fingers and that was it. “I ... I can’t ... ” gasped Rachel. She gulped. “Stop”.
“You don’t have to stop” stated Gill, ignoring what she was trying to say. “You know exactly what I want you to do, don’t you?” and her fingers kept moving over her clit, dipping down to her entrance occasionally to find the copious wet arousal there, using Rachel’s slickness to lubricate her fingers and move smoothly and sweetly. Rachel’s head was hanging forward and she was having to use the strength in her arms to hold herself in an upright position. Christ, but this was an exquisite, humiliating torture. Gill’s fingers were working magic on her and although she knew she should resist, tell her she didn’t want this, not like this, she didn’t trust herself to speak and it was taking all of her will power not to cry out or gasp hard with pleasure.
And then Gill’s other hand tangled into Rachel’s hair and tugged at it, hard, and Rachel did gasp for that and what her fingers did between her legs at the same time. Rachel could hear Gill’s smile. “Good girl. That’s it. You know I’m going to make you come, don’t you?”
Rachel made an anguished noise and she had given up her efforts to keep still. She moved her hips against Gill’s fingers and distantly realised that she couldn’t stop this even if she wanted to - and she knew she should want to, which made her more ashamed - so the sooner she got it over with and gave Gill this satisfaction, the sooner she would stop feeling like a stupid, desperate, humiliated kid, getting fucked over her boss’s desk. But oh, her fingers and the way Gill was tugging her hair and how loud Gill’s breathing was - it was all too much and too perfect.
“I need ... I’m going to ... ”, she was gasping, barely coherent. “Can I?” she managed and Gill made a noise, like a growl, in the back of her throat. She pulled her hair so that the younger woman’s throat was exposed and she put her mouth onto her neck, first the graze of a bite then sucking hard and she made her fingers stop so that Rachel was hanging on a torturous knife edge and she knew what Gill wanted her to do.
“Please”, she managed, her voice falling into nothing and that was enough. All she ever wanted.
Then, “Now. Come for me”, said Gill and Rachel only heard silence but felt sure she must be screaming. Waves of pleasure wracked through her and nearly washed her away and she sagged from the desk, would have fallen if Gill hadn’t seen it coming and caught her, her hand still between her legs but holding her too and her other hand on the desk, her arm under Rachel’s to keep her upright.
She just held her like that until Rachel’s sobbing breathing quietened and she thought she could let her go. I don’t want to let her go.
Gill pulled her hand up out of Rachel’s trousers and Rachel leaned further over the desk, resting her head on her hands.
“Well done, kid” muttered Gill. She looked at the fingers of her right hand glistening with Rachel’s come. She licked each finger one after the other, her eyes fluttering closed at the sweet, musky taste of her. It was as close as she could get to kissing the girl. She wouldn’t, couldn’t kiss her. That was something different and it wasn’t what they had.
Gill shook her head in frustration at herself. You have nothing but this - you have a vulnerable, subordinate officer that you are choosing to ... compromise in the workplace. If you’re honest with yourself, do you even care if she likes it?
She can’t do this now. She lifts her chin up, sets her jaw. Rachel is still leaning over the desk, her breathing ragged. Gill puts out a hand and rubs her back with it. It is a tenuous, sweet, maternal gesture and Rachel suddenly feels like she wants to cry.
“It’s okay”, Gill almost whispers.
With great effort, Rachel slowly stands up and then turns round against the desk, perching on it with her arse and her hands curling round the edge of it.
God, but she looks beautiful, Gill thinks. Her face is flushed, her lips red and pupils huge. Her hair is tousled and like an unruly halo. She can barely stand.
Rachel looks at Gill. It is something Gill never likes Rachel to do ... during. Rachel is always being bent over, or she’s kneeling down or Gill is behind her. Rachel wonders what she doesn’t want her to see.
It’s hard for them both. Honesty’s a weakness, they both know that. The silence isn’t awkward. It’s not the first time, and they have colluded, now, really: partners in crime. They’re on the same side when it comes to this.
Gill steps closer to Rachel. Puts a hand up to her cheek, strokes it, and tries to stop the sad smile she knows is tugging at her lips. She knows there is nothing to say.
Rachel puts up her own hand and it covers Gill’s, keeping it against her face. The moments like this ... they’re just too heartbreaking. Rachel lets go. Gill watches her and Rachel can see how painful it is for her, now.
She pushes herself up from the desk and suddenly feels the absolute flood of wetness in between her legs. Christ. Rachel tries to smooth her hair a little but pretty much gives up. Her eyelids flutter. She clears her throat. “Night, boss” she says and turns to go.
“Night, kid” says Gill, and is it Rachel’s imagination or does she hear something wistful, something else behind it instead that sounds like, “Stay”?
Rachel pulls the door behind her.
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