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neysaadept · 3 months ago

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Prometheus Chapter 5

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 5 - What Now?

Tags: Limited use of y/n but established last name. Swearing, mentions of the pandemic and human and sex trafficking. Canon typical violence. Sexual innuendos. Drinking. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 4.2k

AO3

Chapter 4

You didn’t go to Quantico today. Not that anyone would notice your absence besides Prentiss and that was fine by you. Let her stew while you figure out what you want. A difficult task since you had no idea what that was without someone telling you what to do. You rarely had the lead on your mission purpose. You could tell Brian what happened to gain some professional advice but decided it is best to keep it to yourself. Think things through for a bit before reaching out. And you were glad that the section chief didn’t contact you.

Not that you were expecting it. Prentiss wasn’t one to make amends so quickly, especially when she felt she was in the right. You respected her motivations for team preservation, but the woman went about it completely wrong.

You were not kind, either. But she provoked you, wouldn’t budge, and too fucking proud to admit she was wrong. You didn’t regret anything you said to her and probably continue being a petulant ass if she contacted you.

So here you were at the Botanical Gardens, sipping coffee from a to go cup you bought at the café, and casually stroll around the exhibits. The fragrance that you greedily inhaled was intoxicatingly calming. There was barely a sound, too, since it was a weekday and you were happy to learn from the cashier that there were no school trips planned for today. For a short time, you can pretend to have the place to yourself as you round the long rectangular pool in one of the exhibits far from the entrance.

Natural light filtered through glass ceiling, illuminating large trees hugged by well-manicured flowers. Wooden benches were tucked between large potted plants, the same ones that were placed around the pool, though on opposite ends were long planters with bright pink flowers that easily caught your eye.

You pause roughly a foot away from the pool and close your eyes, listening to the gentle laps of water hitting the edges. You could almost forget about yesterday’s argument. Eyes still close, you bring the lip of the cup to your mouth and take a healthy swallow while slipping a hand into your jean pocket …

… and felt your phone buzz.

You enjoy pretending nothing was wrong for a moment longer before opening your eyes and pulling the phone free from your back pocket. Should you take bets as to who was messaging you?

To your surprise, it was Rebecca. Did she know what happened?

You take another sip and unlock your phone to read the message,

Wilson sent 1043: Hey! Drinks this weekend?

So, she didn’t know.

Interesting.

A pang of guilt made your stomach ache thinking how the falling out with Prentiss would affect her if you didn’t go back to working with the BAU. The AG went to bat for the two of you when she didn’t have to.

Bailey would love it if you backed out and could resume causing trouble for the team. You couldn’t have that, but you equally couldn’t have Prentiss treating you like shit. Why you didn’t want to make any hasty decisions until you distance yourself further from the time of the fight and figure out what you wanted.

Whitlock sent 1055: Sure. Let me know when and where. Tara going to be there too?

Wilson sent 1057: Yep. We want to hear how things are going.

You sigh and look up at the large leaves hanging over your head.

Whitlock sent 1100: Sounds like a plan

No need to drop any major bombshells until you know what was going on.

Wilson sent 1101: 😊 Great!

And you have a couple of days to figure it out.

Today should have been a good day for the BAU. Tyler Green was apprehended before he could use the kill kit, but it was a clusterfuck of a joint task force with Domestic Terrorism. The BAU had gone after Green and Rossi had refused to call JJ and Luke back when ordered, which pissed Bailey off. But the deputy director had a sniper in place that he failed to mention to them. So, they were all in the wrong and kept secrets from one another since the two divisions didn’t trust either side. Everything settled into place with no casualties, but the fallout was intense.

Bailey’s press conference announced to Sicarius that they were on to him and right after it was over, fired Rossi as unit chief. He then ordered Prentiss to install a new team leader that would report directly to him. So of course, she said fuck that and would work two jobs. He wouldn’t approve of anyone currently on the team, and she wouldn’t approve of anyone else since Bailey would immediately try and manipulate the new member against them.

Emily would always protect her team.

Then a few hours ago, the case grew interesting as the team deduced that Green was Garcia’s informant. He never had any intention of setting off the bomb, already neutralizing the kill kit. The disgraced army veteran was attempting to lure Sicarius out by infiltrating his network so he could kill him for murdering his sister.

One saving grace for Emily is that everyone was on high alert today that no one questioned where you were. She didn’t offer any insight, either. Not that she had any.

You didn’t show up for work and she received no contact from you, nor anything from Langley. Not like she was going to poke that hornet’s nest. Until the issue of you and the contract came up, Emily had real work to do.

Which was a ton of it. More files and paperwork had exponentially piled up on her desk in a matter of hours. The long hours at work were about to double.

“Hey, Emily.”

She looks up with a tired smile towards Rossi as he approaches her desk. “Dave.”

“What a day, huh?” He sits down, folding his hands across his stomach.

Emily partly snorts as she leans back in her chair. “That’s being kind.”

His lips slightly turn upwards to acknowledge the severity of the unspoken truth of the BAU leadership shake up, but he was here for another reason. “You know, I was hoping to speak to Whitlock today.”

“Oh?” she gave away nothing but polite curiosity as to why Dave was interested in you.

“Wanted to finish our conversation from yesterday, but she never came in.” He studies Emily intently.

She doesn’t look away and says nothing to confirm or deny what he said.

“Her desk is clean,” he supplies after motioning over his shoulder towards the couch. “No Diet Coke bottles.”

Emily wouldn’t have guessed your soda addiction would end up being the clue to your absence.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” he presses.

She licks her lips, tapping pen in hand lightly on the desk as she struggles on how to begin.

Rossi chuckles at seeing her inwardly battle on what to say. “Wow. That bad?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “It was.”

“What was the argument about?”

Her face scrunches up as she takes a deep breath before explaining. “Not trusting her.”

His brows raise with admonishment.

“Oh, don’t do that. I have every right not to,” she argues firmly.

“On what grounds?”

“On the grounds that there’s absolutely nothing substantial on record about her.” She shakes her head with contempt. “You know she had legal trouble?” Rossi shakes his head that he didn’t. “That’s how she knows Wilson. Helped her out of it.”

He fans his hands out unconvinced. “And?”

“She admitted her file’s sealed and she did nothing wrong. That she made the right call in the field.”

“Every member of the BAU has been in trouble at some point or another in similar circumstances. Legal and otherwise,” he says with the tone of a wise, patient, parent. “And we’re not aware of any significant reprimand, otherwise why retain a high rank in the CIA.”

“Yes, but I know all of you. I don’t know her.”

“Hotch didn’t know you when you joined. Yet here you are.” He gestures around Hotch’s former office. “Section Chief.”

She remains unconvinced, face hardened with mistrust.

“Come on, Emily. Even you were given the opportunity to prove yourself. Why can’t you afford the same arm length courtesy?”

That is the question, isn’t it? Why doesn’t she like you besides the overall mistrust. Again, there were a lot of similarities to your careers that she should have some sympathy towards you and your situation. But it’s difficult to shake your reasoning for helping Wilson with this immense favor of the BAU budget resolution.

“It’s the stipend. Or the amount of the stipend that unburied us,” she admits carefully.

“Ah.” He smiles. “Too good to be true?”

“Yes,” she nods. “And why does she even has that much to use? Whatever happened was big and I don’t want that drama effecting the BAU.”

“Wow. Emily, with all due respect, that’s very hypocritical of you after what happened wi-“

“Don’t you dare.” She swivels the chair to face him fully. “Don’t you dare compare what happened with Doyle with her.”

“Why? Because you have nothing to compare the drama with?” He scoffs as she nods in affirmation. “Why does it matter?”

“Because Bailey’s still breathing down my neck trying to disband the unit and is clearly finding new creative ways to do it since the budget is no longer an issue.” She rests her head against the high back chair, staring at the ceiling.

Dave stiffens in the chair. “Emily, what exactly happened with you and Whitlock?”

She pensively pulls her lips together as she closes her eyes. “I may have admitted … that I only cared about her because of the money.”

Rossi could not help the surprise look on his face. “Emily, no …”

She sighs and opens her eyes, a hint of regret etching into her words. “I was angry after she joked about being the BAU sugar mama. Everything after that went to shit.”

He was starting to get tired of Emily speaking around what actually happened between the two of you. “What exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I have no idea if Whitlock is still on board.” She raises her hand futilely at her office door. “She left, probably for good. Which means our contract with her is null and void.”

“And the money we were hoping for …”

“… doesn’t come,” she finishes soberly.

“And you didn’t think to contact her to see where she stands in all of this?”

“Oh, it did cross my mind,” she answers ruefully. “I just haven’t. And to be fair, the shit we dealt with today made it a low priority.”

Rossi wasn’t sure how being in exorbitant debt would be a low priority if the expectant help wasn’t coming. “And now?”

She finally shifts her gaze towards Rossi, lost. “I don’t know.”

“Sure, you do,” he chides as he stands up. “You just need to apologize.”

You were glad that the sports bar, Buddy’s, was still around to enjoy the football preseason despite the Bears not playing tonight. You were a true fan of your hometown team. Thick and thin, you bitched and cheered after every play during a Bears game, loyally critical. Perhaps you should be a tad loyal to the Commanders since you lived in the D.C. area when off mission, but you honestly didn’t care. You were happy to enjoy any game that was playing on the screens over the bar counter.

Right now, the Giants were playing the Patriots in a close game as you sat at the bar nursing a Stella on draft with a bowl of gumbo. Brian still didn’t know of your indecision, though you did end up feeling a twinge of guilt after watching the shitshow of a press conference Bailey held earlier today.

He was such a fucking tool, broadcasting that the FBI was on to Sicarius and taking full credit of capturing the unsub in Allaband Park. There was no way that the operation was a success without the BAU there and even you knew that Prentiss was just in the background to show that everyone was playing nice.

You briefly wonder if you could have helped the team, or more accurately, would have been allowed to help the team today if her majesty could get over her mistrust of you.

At least Brian had texted to check on you after hearing of Green’s capture.

Dad sent 1534: You ok?

Whitlock sent 1603: Yeah I’m good

Dad sent 1632: Glad to hear it.

You made sure to allow enough reasonable time before responding to make it look like you were busy after the capture, and to answer truthfully without being specific.

“Oh, come on!” You gesture at the screen when a defensive lineman wasn’t covered and sacked the Giants quarterback.

You didn’t really care who wins but you would always call out stupid plays, and that was one major fuck up. As the Giants took a time out, you went back to your gumbo and felt the counter vibrate twice, indicating a message was received. You had missed who it was from and go to unlock the screen …

… and drop your spoon in the bowl in shock.

Overlord sent 1932: I’d like to meet up and discuss last night.

Never did it cross your mind to think that you’d get a text from Emily fucking Prentiss.

You’re motionless as you stare at the screen, hands resting on either side of your meal and the phone as you consider the offer. Let alone that there was an offer so soon. You pinch your brows before you pick up the phone, thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

You write out several replies to get the smartass comments out of your system.

Fuck off

New phone, who dis?

Make sure when you come the pole’s dislodged from your ass

Now you wanna talk?

Oh I’m so relieved that the queen wishes to make time for her lowly servant

Are you drunk?

Each one was deleted, and Emily was probably wondering why it was taking so long for you to respond if she saw you were constantly typing a reply.

And what was going to be your real one?

You swallow down several gulps of beer, decision made.

Whitlock sent 1946: Sure. Come to Buddy’s. Know where it is?

You were tired of Prentiss having the home field advantage and if she really was earnest in wanting to speak, she would come to you.

Overlord sent 1949: I do not

Must not be her scene and thinking back to her office, there was no sports stuff displayed there, unlike the glimpses of Cubs gear in Rossi’s office when you walked by.

Whitlock sent 1950: I sent you the location

Overlord sent 1952: Got it. See you in about an hour

You fought the urge to send, ‘It’s a date!’, and simply set your phone aside. You were proud of yourself for behaving and flag the bartender over, immediately handing her your Platinum American Express card. “Start a tab, will ya?”

The blonde bartender that had been working your side of the bar counter took it with a smile. It accentuated her stud piercing above her lip. “Sure thing, sweetie.”

“Oh! And do me a favor?” Your eyes were alight with mischief that made the woman pause. “When you see a grumpy looking woman dressed like a Fed walk in, bring her a glass of your best red.”

It took Emily ten minutes to find a parking space, not expecting a sports bar to be this busy on a Thursday night. At least the five minute walk was pleasant with the light breeze and night clear enough of cloud cover to enjoy the bright crescent moon hovering in the sky. It was off center, reminding her of the Chesire Cat’s grin. Which then reminds her of you and your antics.

Ugh. Please don’t be an ass tonight.

As she enters, she immediately spots you, recognizing the suede jacket of yours hanging over the back of the bar stool to your left. She guesses it is to save a spot for her. As she approaches, she takes in your relaxed appearance, causally watching the game and sipping at the glass of beer you cradle with a hand on the counter. You had your hair pulled back in a loose braid that rested against a black tee and wore jeans that were fraying at the end that covered the top of brown work boots.

Before she even had a chance to greet you, a glass of red wine appears on the counter next to you. She catches the bartender and you sharing a knowing look before she disappears to take care of someone else.

“Hey, Prentiss.” You turn to remove your jacket and place it back where it belongs behind you.

Emily shrugs her long coat off and hangs it over the back of the chair. You couldn’t help but notice how out of place she looks. It wasn’t the clothes, no. There were a lot of suits that end up relaxing at a sports bar - throwing back some beer and cocktails as they yell at the screens in joy or contempt. It was why the beer and cocktails menu were long and the wine list short. And it was why Prentiss got a basic cabernet sauvignon while you got many drafts on tap to choose much to your delight.

She sits beside you and gestures to the drink. “Thanks.”

“Welcome.” Your face scrunches together in repentance. “Consider it an apology for basically calling you a functional alcoholic.”

You take a sip of your beer while watching highlights from the game. The Giants had won by a field goal.

Prentiss nods as she takes a sip from her glass. She makes a light face of approval at the taste of the wine. “Ironic offering this to the maybe functional alcoholic.”

“Touche.”

You both grow silent, Prentiss trying to recover from the peace offering she was drinking and the fact you apologized first. It was commendable to be the bigger person when Emily was in the wrong.

“Do you normally come to places like this?” she asks carefully, seeing where you two stand right now in this conversation.

“Nah. Just didn’t want to be at the apartment doing the same thing.” And you didn’t need to cook, which was a bonus.

“You like,” she gestures to the screen and awkwardly asks, “football?”

You found it cute she was trying.

“I’m not a die hard fanatic, but I enjoy the game a lot.” You finally turn to look at her. “I take it you’re not a fan.”

She shakes her head no and meets your gaze. “I am not.”

“Of all sports, right?”

“That would be right.”

You both stare at one another for a few moments before you shift in your chair to lean against the counter, resting your elbow on top to prop up your head. “If it helps to shake off some of my mystique, I’m a Bears fan. You probably don’t understand how sad that it is, but it is. My team sucks but I’ll always root for them.”

That jibe made Emily relax, even making the curves of her mouth turn upwards just enough to realize what you were getting at. “So, you’re saying you’re loyal?”

You nod. “I am. To those who treat me right.”

Emily takes a long sip of her wine to marinate on the accusation she deserves. You wait her out, watching Emily pay attention to commentary and statistics she doesn’t give a shit about on the screens across from you.

“I shouldn’t have referred to you as a means to an end.” Her hands rest on the base of the wine glass, steadying the drink as much as her own words. “It’s difficult for me to …”

You watch as she chews over what to say.

“… for me to trust you.”

You inwardly sigh and drop the arm holding your head up. Your body went on the defense, as did your tone. “Yes, we’ve been through this …”

“It’s not without reason,” she supplies quickly, but not rudely, as she cuts you off.

“I agree. But you dehumanized me,” you reply bitterly. “I was basically your money whore.”

“I didn’t …” But Emily pauses, realizing the joke you made was not your usual smartass retort, but a self-deprecating comment of how hurt you were.

She remembers you saying that you hide your trauma with humor, and what you just said admitted to a painful past of being underappreciated or undeserving.

“Stop profiling me, Prentiss,” you warn, eyes pleading.

She backs down and nods. “I’m sorry. It’s defensive most of the time in situations like this.”

“Okay, that I can understand. Social shit isn’t my forte either. Especially through all the bullshit we’ve been through.” You hold up your hands on the immediate defense as Prentiss starts to look suspicious. “And I mean generally. I’m not talking about any specifics. But people like us, with the shit we’ve done and lived through, have intense self defense mechanisms and shitty coping skills that we see everything’s a threat until we get to understand one another.”

“Ah,” she slowly nods. “Yes. That’s very true.” Then she narrows her eyes at you. “Why couldn’t you be this reasonable last night?”

“Why did you have to be a bitch?” you counter.

“Fair point,” she chuckles and looks aggrieve. “I was painfully informed I was as such earlier today.”

“Hence the text?”

“Mhm.”

“Well … good.” You down more of your drink as Prentiss does with hers, both avoiding the unspoken question - were you staying with the BAU?

Though as you watch the section chief, you see a shift in her facial features. A harden look as she comes to a decision inside her head.

“How about we start over.”

“Like, how?” you found this perplexing.

“Like this.” She turns on the stool and holds a hand out before you. “Hi, I’m sorry for the misunderstanding yesterday. I’m Section Chief Emily Prentiss.”

Your eyes go wide and look down at the olive branch. You could hear Brian’s voice reminding you that you never quit on anyone and why you shouldn’t start now.

So, you take Emily’s hand and squeeze it. “Special Agent Y/N Whitlock. Nice to meet ya.”

She lightly smiles before releasing your hand, but she starts to dread the roguish look you're directing towards her. “What?” she questions slowly, draping her arm over the back of the bar stool.

“Nothing bad, I promise.” Your smile disarms her as you notice she was genuinely concerned this would degrade into another misunderstanding. “I know you don’t know me, and I can’t say much, but to start this partnership off better, how about you get to ask me one question, and I promise to answer it to the best of my ability without joking around.”

Her lower lip protrudes with consideration. “All right.” She takes a hefty swallow of wine and sets it down to look you directly in the eyes. “How did you join the CIA?”

“Fuck,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I can’t say.”

You watch as the tiny bit of the wall Emily had taken down starts to build right back up. The shift in her brown eyes makes you feel miserable. “Wait!” you urge. “Please. I really can’t say, and that’s the truth. But I can offer something related to it.”

Emily becomes intrigued. “Go on.”

“Brian Korogoth recruited me.”

“Brian … Korogoth?” she repeats back for clarification.

“Yes.”

“The current Director of the CIA?” she stabs the counter with her index finger for emphasis.

“Yep.”

“That Brian Korogoth?” Emily needs to ask it again to make sure she was hearing this right.

“To be fair, he wasn’t that when I met him, but … yes.”

It took a few minutes for Emily to digest this new information. She had briefly worked with Korogoth when she was in JTF-12 before the Doyle case. He was an intelligent and calculating man. A natural leader. He liaised between JTF-12 and Interpol to track down members of the Armed Islamic Group* in Great Britain when a string of car bombings had occurred.

“Wow. Okay then.” She blinks a few times in realization and feels a newfound respect for the woman before her.

“I should have probably led with that when we first met to save us from all the bullshit between us, huh?” you say, as if reading her thoughts.

She laughs, an honest laugh, that echoes quite lovely over the din of patrons. “Probably, yes.”

You hold up your glass and offer Prentiss a bright smile. “To starting over?”

Emily didn’t hesitate in reaching for her wine glass to clink it against your drink. “To starting over.”

*Also known as the GIA

Chapter 6

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storiesofsvu · 10 months ago

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Decadent Desires Ch 1

Future Emiy Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol consumption, v minor mention of s16 canon/violence. sexual situations talked about.

“Is everybody around here getting laid except me?”

The words rang through Emily’s head as she stared into her closet, even though she had been the one who said them. It wasn’t like someone else was poking fun at her, bringing up her somewhat embarrassing personal details around the work place for everyone to hear, she’d done it herself. But finally hearing the words out loud had made her brain linger on the fact that it was horrendously true. It was exhausting, she’d thought being back at the office would cure some of it, help with the boredom and be a welcome distraction but now she was witnessing everything in real time. JJ and Will, Tara and Rebecca, Penelope had found a romantic or sexual interest, and in a material witness, nonetheless. She rolled her eyes and turned away from the closet to pick up her wine instead, maybe she wouldn’t even bother going to the gala, it wasn’t like she enjoyed them anyway. Her phone lit up and she welcomed the distraction, swiping open the notification only to find a text from Bailey and she outwardly groaned at his reminder to not be late. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t skip out on tonight, that was part of the responsibility of being the Section Chief; she had to make appearances, shake hands, contribute to small talk to remind everyone that the BAU was an integral piece of the bureau, the politics of the job were the parts she loathed the most.

Downing the rest of her wine she wandered back to the kitchen, picking through the remains of her take out dinner for one. All the while she mourned the days where a bottle of wine would be split between two and take out meant dinner on the couch followed by getting handsy enough to move to the bedroom. Now dinner was consumed while standing in the kitchen, still in work clothes while procrastinating getting ready for bed because that meant doing it all over again sooner than if she stayed up. It was so casual that she’d caught herself getting even lazier, not bothering with plates, eating directly over the stove to save on time and dishes. There was no point in making things fancy and displayed if it was just for her, why not lean into the convenience?

Emily wouldn’t say that she was lonely, because she wasn’t, she was completely content with her friends, her job, being at peace during her alone time. But she would say that she was bored, a little under stimulated, there was a sense of something missing, an itch that she just couldn’t seem to scratch. While her mind drifted to that itch, her eyes wandered over to the clock on the stove, chewing on her lip as she figured out just how much time she had and she decided there was no harm in grabbing a toy to join her in the shower. At the very least it would help her be more relaxed and at ease for a night of ultimate boredom and annoyance around people she definitely didn’t want to spend her Friday night with.

Arriving at the Waldorf Astoria was simple enough, drop the car with the valet and head to the separate entrance to the hall that was hosting the event. No having to deal with concierge, hotel guests or anything else, straight to the point, she could start making the rounds directly after grabbing a drink, which she made a beeline to do.

There were two bars set up on opposite sides of the room, one larger, the smaller tucked away in the corner by the doors to the terrace. Lights were lowered, soft and mellow ambient beats playing through the room to bring the vibe away from one of professional life and lull everyone into the sense that tonight was actually fun. Tables, both regular and high top ones were scattered through the space, people lounging around the shorter ones or standing at the taller ones, captured in conversation ranging from work talk to gossip.

Emily caught eyes with a few people, giving fake smiles, small waves, or a little head tilt depending on how well she knew or liked them. There were a fair number of familiar faces tonight, but she could tell that the crowd was much higher brow than it would have been at an event she was invited to ten years ago. Tonight the room was filled with only the top contenders from the bureau, everyone stuck representing themselves and their departments among a room of benefactors, politicians and the like. She finally found Bailey in the crowd, raising her glass to him from across the room and said the silent thank you that she had now been seen and could start counting down the minutes until she could leave. The next couple of hours she spent circling through the room, slipping into conversations where she could while sipping on cocktails and entertaining herself. She made nice with as many acquaintances as possible, making sure to drop in wherever Bailey was more than a few times to make sure her dues were paid before she finally retreated to the bar, grabbing a refill of her drink and settling into one of the high tops.

Taking a sip of her drink she let out a tired sigh, gaze slowly sweeping through the room, stalling on a group of politicians, watching the interaction while her eyes narrowed. Everything seemed so genuine, so positive and like they were happy to talking to the other person, enthusiasm soothing through the room until one leant in to kiss the other on the cheek in a parting motion and promptly rolled their eyes once their back was turned. She let out a huff of a laugh at that, clearly no one wanted to go to these things. There was no doubt that Senators had their favourites, but the one who stood out the most about being able to fake it and get everyone on her side was Heather Dunbar. Hoping for a distraction, Emily pulled out her phone, sighing at the utter lack of notifications before she dropped it on the table, swiping it open anyways in hopes that maybe she had a missed piece of junk mail. Just as she pinched at the bridge of her nose and let out a groan she could feel someone beside her, a small chuckle leaving their lips.

“Well you look about as thrilled to be here as I feel.” Heather muttered softly, sliding a shot of high end tequila across the table to her.

“You’ve got that right.” Emily replied with a huff, picking up the shot glass, “thanks.” She clinked the glass with Heather’s before shooting the liquor back, not wincing at all. “Wow, that really is the good stuff.”

Heather laughed, “is there even a point in drinking anything less?”

Emily shook her head at the other woman’s antics, “you know, sometimes I wonder how you survived the basic college experience.”

“I had my ways.” She smirked back, pulling another laugh from Emily before switching subjects, “it’s nice to see someone I actually like at these things, I didn’t realize you’d get roped in to tonight.”

“Yeah, well, all things considered,” her eyes narrowed in on Bailey, “I don’t really think I had a choice tonight. Think I’m in a bit of hot water right now.”

“It’ll pass.” Heather murmured over the rim of her glass, “trust me. These brown nosing kids who think they’re special just because they’ve got a badge or an all access pass don’t know shit, they’ll get eaten alive before you even know it.” She nudged at Emily’s shoulder, “you’ve been running that unit for years and I haven’t heard any complaints.” She wavered for a second, “well, except for Senator Reeves but that bitch is dead now so who fucking cares.”

Emily barked out a laugh, “Jesus, tell me how you really feel.”

“I’ll tell you this, if you ever arrest either of my kids, don’t even bother calling me, whatever they’ve done, they deserve the punishment.”

“Seriously?” She laughed again, glancing over to the other woman.

“Well..” Heather paused, mulling over a sip of her drink, “call if it’s the girl, she probably got caught wrong place wrong time but the boy? He’s finally got what’s coming to him. Fucking men…”

“Now that, you don’t have to tell me twice.” Emily replied, taking another sip of her drink as she scanned through the ballroom, frowning when she couldn’t find Heather’s husband, “Rob not here tonight?”

“No.” She replied with an unbothered sigh, “he’s away for work.” She leant in closer to Emily, “but do you see the redhead talking to Sharp?”

“Mmhm.” She nodded over the rim of her glass, eyes raking over the woman’s frame and Heather smirked.

“She’s got one hell of a gorgeous blue lingerie set on underneath that dress that will look absolutely spectacular on my bedroom floor by tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t recognize her.”

“You shouldn’t.” Heather laughed, “she’s a bartender over at Salt Line.”

Emily’s brow furrowed for a moment at the other woman’s words, watching the interaction across the room for a bit. While the girl Heather was talking about clearly looked the part for tonight, there was almost too much of an eagerness coming off her, something that didn’t quite fit the vibe for the event. She was well put together, hair and make up pristine, dress and heels both designer while she sipped on top shelf champagne, but every time she glanced over to Heather she was almost nervous, a flush taking over her cheeks.

“Hey… how do you…manage all that?” Emily asked, her eyes still watching the girl across the room and Heather let out a small laugh.

“Well it’s considerably easier now that the kids are out of the house.” She took a sip of her drink, “and it’s technically not cheating, Rob and I made an official arrangement years ago. Lord knows he goes off and has his own fun too. Separate rooms for sex and sleep and if a guest stays over they stay in the guest room, if we want more privacy, a hotel gets booked.”

“Wait… official arrangement?” Emily’s brow furrowed as she looked over at the brunette who simply nodded.

“I mean, it’s not signed by a third party all things considered. But it is a binding document detailing out the parameters of what we agreed to. Clear communication, be safe, regular testing, keep everything behind closed doors, that the kids don’t get told, how to move forward if something was to become more than sex.”

“You’re losing me.” Emily laughed and Heather grinned.

“I believe there’s more you’d like to ask that would be better suited for the lounge. More privacy.” She glanced over to the redhead and gave the smallest tilt of her head and the girl quickly crossed the room. Emily watched curiously as Heather pinched the girl’s chin briefly before fixing a piece of loose hair, her voice dropping while she spoke, “mommy has to go take care of a few things. I’m calling the car but I want you waiting on your knees until I’m ready for you. Understood?” The girl nodded obediently before her eyes darted over to Emily, lingering while a concerned expression flashed across her face. Heather tsk’d, pinching at her arm, “oh don’t you worry your little head kitten, I’m not going to fuck her, it’s work talk. What did I tell you about being so insecure?”

“Sorry ma’am.”

“Good girl.” Leaning in, she pressed a kiss to her cheek, “I’ll be there in an hour or two.” With another nod, the girl was off in the direction of the entrance and Heather turned back to Emily, scooping her drink up off the table. “What?”

“Now that is what I’m talking about.” Emily gestured to the table as she followed Heather out of the room. “Direct and to the point.” She stalled in her steps when Heather stopped at the elevator, “isn’t the lounge on this floor?”

“Yes but my mini bar selection is superior.”

“Why send her home then?” She asked and Heather shrugged.

“Theatrics, toys are all at home, and she’s new, I didn’t want her listening in on this.” The elevator doors slid shut behind them and Heather used a key card to access one of the top floors, delivering them directly into her suite. “She’s waiting at her place, not mine. I don’t let them into my place until they’re fully trusted.”

“Where do you meet them?” Emily asked, letting out a sigh as she dropped into a plush arm chair, accepting a fresh drink from the other woman.

“Anywhere. You just have to know who to look for.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“That’s why I keep more than one girl on the go at once.” Heather laughed.

“There’s gotta be an app for that. Bailey… he was on one.. The Beltway Elite?” Emily found herself absentmindedly twirling her phone in her hand, as if her subconscious was teasing her into downloading it and Heather snorted, plucking her phone from her.

“Oh god sweetheart no. That one’s garbage and going to be full of all your coworkers who will suddenly know exactly what you’re into and looking for.”

Emily shuddered and Heather nodded.

“Exactly.”

“Between the job and life I just don’t know if I have the mental or physical energy to go through the dating stages. I certainly don’t have the time. I just want company probably a couple times a week, the obvious other benefits but without all the crap that comes with it.”

“Oh I know.” Heather smirked, “so make an arrangement.”

“What?”

“Emily come on. You know full well that girl only listened to what I said with no complaints because she’s going home to a condo I bought for her wearing Manolo’s that are way above her price range.”

“I’m sure that’s all she’s getting.” She deadpanned.

“She gets a weekly salary, a bonus if she’s good. You remember I’ve been to your mother’s parties, right? I know you come from money too, and that trust fund has barely been touched, just sitting there accumulating more and more money as the years have gone by. You live a somewhat modest lifestyle for your price bracket and I know it. Not you’ve got something you want, and you’ve got the money to get it.”

“Heather, I can’t just go around with a call girl, I’m a federal agent.”

“It’s not soliciting.” She replied with a laugh, “you meet a pretty girl, you bought her dinner, a nice necklace. In return you get to spend some time with her, your choice if you decide to fuck her brains out or not.” She reached out, handing Emily’s phone back to her, “here, I put in a couple of apps for you to try out, and don’t worry, they’re incredibly discreet.”

“You always use apps?”

“Sometimes. It depends on what kind of situation you’re looking for and what you’re willing to provide. The girl tonight? I’m a regular at her bar and happened to over hear her situation, she’s got massive student debt and was struggling to make a living. I gave her an offer; said I could help out and then read the room.”

“So she’s in it for the money?”

“I mean, most of them are. But for her specifically money is the number one thing she needs from me. It started out as companionship, the occasional plus one for my events, she’s helping tutor the kids when needed, then she got more curious about her sexuality. So you’d need to find someone not like her.”

“Am I really that tightly wound?”

“Sweetheart if you were my type I would have offered to help you out the moment we got up here.”

“Shame I’m not twenty years younger.” Emily teased back, earning a laugh from the other woman. “So you make up all the rules, they go along with it?”

“I draw up the initial contracts, I have one for platonic companionship, and one for sexual. There are girls who I call just so we can go for lunch a few times a month, so there’s someone else in the house when Rob’s out of town and others who are much different. Technically everything is up to them, I lay out what I’m interested in sexually and they’re free to veto anything they want, then I rework it into an official contract for that specific girl to be signed and agreed upon so we’re both very clear on everything.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“You have to when you’re someone like us. In the public eye, with jobs like ours, there’s reputations to uphold, all my girls sign NDA’s too.”

“How do you decide how much you pay them?”

“It can change per girl and salary is negotiable. Again, sometimes they just want you to buy them nice things, take them on a shopping trip once a month. I’ve had some girls who worked out of state, they’d get a lump sum per date instead of a weekly salary. You can start off playing it by ear too, start by buying a nice dinner, spending the night in a nice hotel with room service for breakfast. Next date you take them shopping, once you’ve established that you get along and have the chemistry, work out the fine print.”

“Is it always so high end and about designer brands?”

“Absolutely not.” She shook her head, “some of them just want you to pay for their groceries, put gas in the tank, help with bills or rent. Those ones are usually the better ones, there’s guilt associated with getting things they don’t really need, they just want to spend time with you and help with the necessities. The ones who are full designer all the time are the ones who are doing it to pretend their rich themselves, they’re usually brats.”

“God I do not have the patience for that.” Emily rolled her eyes with a groan and Heather laughed.

“Oh but they can be so fun.” She shot the other woman a wicked grin before glancing at her watch, “speaking of, I should get going.” She stood from her chair, “take the week, look through those apps. I’ll send over some copies of agreements so you can get a better idea of what I’m talking about, I know it can be confusing.”

“You’re just going to give up the names of your sugar babies?” Emily asked with a smirk and Heather laughed again.

“You know me better than that, all names and contact info is already redacted.” She pushed the elevator button, “it was good to see you. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Emily laughed, giving the woman a wave as the elevator doors slid shut again.

With a small sigh she opened her phone, swiping through to discover that the apps were extremely discreet, the icons looking exactly like default ones that came with the phone. Then again, she shouldn’t have been surprised if someone like Heather was using them, she valued her privacy more than anything. Chewing on her lip she stared down at her phone, the two apps staring right back up at her, burning through her brain as she considered opening one, just to see what it was all about.

Her phone suddenly pinged and she nearly jumped, groaning at Bailey’s name staring back up at her, a text about how there was someone she needed to come chat with and he couldn’t find her. She was tempted to reply she’d already left but she needed to go through the ballroom to get back to her car so she sent back a thumbs up and grabbed the top shelf drink Heather had left her before calling the elevator.

Her experiment would have to wait.

_______________

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