by Radclyffe
"She just got into a cab and is headed downtown," Mac informed her.
"Shit," Cam cursed. "How did you let that happen?"
Mac's discomfort was nearly palpable, even over the phone. "There wasn't anything we could do short of physically stopping her. She just walked out of the building, stepped into the street, and flagged a checkered down. We were lucky to get the car out fast enough to follow her."
Cam sighed slightly in relief. "Then you have her in sight?"
"Roger that. Hold on a second--"
Cam paced the confines of her living room, the cellular phone gripped tightly in her hand. Although they had had no further contact from whoever had left the note outside Blair's door, she was worried that they weren't the only ones watching the President's daughter. Anytime Blair was without an escort, Cam was fearful for her safety.
"She just went into a bar on Houston," Mac informed her.
"Name and address?" Cam asked tersely.
"Rendezvous," Mac stated. After a second, he gave her the address as well.
"I'm on my way."
Less than 15 minutes later, Cam was in the bar, scanning the already crowded dance floor and surrounding tables for Blair. It was approaching midnight on a Saturday night, and the room was packed. The lighting was dim and the air thick with smoke, making it difficult for her to see across the room. She began threading her way through the crowd at the perimeter of the room, guessing that Blair would be in the shadows somewhere. Sure enough, she finally saw her talking to a young woman with impressive tattoos encircling both upper arms.
The woman with Blair was obviously a serious body builder, and her tight white tank top was clearly meant to display her hard-earned physique. She wore low-cut button fly jeans that showed off her muscular thighs to full advantage. At the moment, her hand was stroking the length of the Blair's bare arm, drawing closer to Blair's breast with each movement. Cam gritted her teeth, and tried to ignore the seduction in progress. She watched as Blair pressed closer to the other woman, remembering the moment when Blair had moved against her like that, claiming her insistently with a kiss. Cam's body immediately stirred to the memory, her clitoris hardening almost instantly.
Jesus Christ, what the hell is the matter with you?Cameron forced herself to ignore the throbbing in her belly. Nevertheless, she found herself averting her gaze when Blair cupped the woman's face in her hand and licked slowly along the edge of her jaw, finally thrusting her tongue between her lips. That was the moment when Cam finally admitted to herself that she couldn't do what she had come there to do. Anger surged through her as she spoke harshly into her collar microphone.
"I want the first team in herenow to take over this surveillance." She abruptly turned her back as the two women began to kiss ferociously, their hands roaming over each other's bodies with abandon. As soon as she saw her people enter the bar, she pushed her way through the crowd and out onto the street. She crossed quickly to her car and radioed headquarters.
"Mac, I want you to take over for me for the next twelve hours. If there's an emergency, page me. Otherwise, I'm unavailable."
She didn't wait for his reply but drove directly to JFK airport. As she waited in a terminal for her flight, she dialed a familiar number in Washington D.C., and arranged for the only hope she had of driving Blair from her consciousness.
Chapter Sixteen
"Ah, god - I cant," Cam gasped hoarsely, "Im sorry - I just - cant."
The blonde raised her head, gazing up the long expanse of Cams torso. "Thats not what your body is saying." She rested her cheek against Cams thigh, one hand softly stroking between Cams legs. "Besides, I'm not done yet."
Cam gently insinuated her fingers into the hair at the back of her visitor's neck. She tugged softly. "Come up and lie beside me," she whispered.
Claire slipped from between Cam's legs and moved up to recline against Cam's body, resting her head on Cam's shoulder. Her hand lay lightly on Cam's belly.
Cam shifted slightly, brushing a kiss across Claire's forehead. "Let me make love you," she said softly. It was the first time she had ever suggested it.
"That's not what this is about. I don't need you to do that."
"I need to," Cam insisted. "After all this time, I want to give you something back."
Claire nodded, hearing what Cam wasn't saying. She knew that Cam wanted more than to thank her. Cam wanted to say goodbye. Over the years, there had been many goodbyes. This was one that was going to be hard.
"Just hold me," Claire requested. "That's all I need."
Cam was weary, too weary to protest. She cradled the other woman closer, closed her eyes, and tried to empty her mind. She tried not to think about her anger and confusion every time she imagined Blair making love to yet another stranger. She tried to ignore what she knew very well was jealousy. She tried to ignore the simple fact that she wanted it to be her that Blair was caressing.
Claire ran her fingers lightly over Cam's flushed skin, tracing the outline of her ribs and hip, stroking the soft curve of the underside of her breasts, smoothing the flat of her hand over the taut muscles of her stomach. Slowly, Cam relaxed under her touch.
Eventually, Cam's thoughts were eclipsed by an awareness of her bodys response to Claire's attention. Her skin began to tingle, her leg muscles tightened, and her hips began to rock slightly as her clitoris once again swelled in anticipation. This time, her urgency was gone, and she allowed herself the luxury of simply accepting the pleasure. Her mind collapsed into a single point of sensation, centered within the pulsating pressure between her legs. She groaned, and lifted her pelvis higher, silently urging Claire's hand lower. Her breath escaped on a sigh as two fingers enclosed the shaft of her clitoris, milking it slowly and firmly from the base to the tip. She felt wetness spread along the inside of her thighs, and when one soft stroke brushed the warm moisture over the exposed tip of her clitoris, she moaned again.
"God, that makes me want to come," she murmured breathlessly.
Clara smiled faintly, her fingers slipping inside, then back out and upward, a steady rhythm that matched Cam's unconscious movements. She sensed the building pressure, and felt the tender tissues beneath her fingertips thicken even more, swelling to the point of explosion.
Cam gripped the sheets convulsively in her left hand, her right arm holding Claire tightly. She turned her face into the sweet comfort of Claire's hair, and allowed her body to surrender to the inevitable. As her stomach clenched and a hoarse cry was wrenched from her depths, Blair Powell's face flickered across the inner surface of her eyelids.
**********
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 immobilize
d, 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. We must have an image of him. I want all of the tapes brought up to the command center for review. Also, run a check on all the license plates of cars parked around the Park - then call the cab companies for recent fares to Egret's block. I'll catch the next commuter flight. Assemble the entire team, day and night shifts, at 0700."
"Yes ma'am," Mac snapped.
"And Mac," Cameron continued in a quieter voice. "Get Egret back to her apartment."
There was a beat of silence over the phone line. Mac cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. He wasn't sure why, but he felt uncomfortable delivering the next information. "Uh, Commander--at the moment, Egret is with an unidentified female, who almost certainly does not know Egret's identity. If we roust her, there is no way we'll be able to guarantee silence regarding her identity."
Cameron flashed back to the young woman Blair had been fondling in the bar. Of course Blair would have gone home with her. And why not? She was just the kind of conquest Blair would thrill to.
"Then I want her in a car the minute she steps out onto the sidewalk. And Mac--if anyone loses her, it's their job."
"I guarantee I will have her back here ASAP." As he hung up the phone, he said a fervent prayer that he could deliver on his promise.
Chapter Seventeen
At 06:59, Cam walked into the command center and strode to the head of the table where the other agents were gathered. Despite her lack of sleep, she looked focused and intent. Without preamble, she said, "Let me hear the analysis on the photograph."
Jeremy Finch, a short, mildly overweight, bespectacled agent cleared his throat. He was the resident nerd, the computer genius and technical wizard. "We've analyzed the potential elevation and angle of view by extrapolating from the available shadows and the known time of day. Basically, the photograph was taken from one of the buildings facing Egret's across Gramercy Park." He looked down at the tabletop uncomfortably.
"That leaves us with a lot of potential sites, Agent Finch." Cameron stared at him, biting back another sarcastic remark. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't manufacture evidence.
Finch nodded almost miserably. Like every other agent in the room, he had come to value his position on this team, and felt a sense of loyalty to his intense, demanding Commander. "Yes ma'am, I know that. What it does tell us is that the shooter has a fixed location, rather than a vehicle. Therefore, there is a better chance of finding him, since he may be relatively stationary."
Cameron nodded. "You're right. We need to get a list of every occupant of every building on each side of the Square, not just the street directly across from this building. You'll need to check realtors, building managers, and also any corporations which lease apartments for use by employees. It's possible that this UNSUB is only here intermittently when business demands it."
"We have people assigned to begin the reconnaissance at the opening of business hours," Mac interjected.
They spent a few moments reviewing other methods of narrowing down the list of potential perpetrators who might have access to the surrounding buildings. Finally, Cameron looked around the table, meeting the eyes of each of her agents.
"I'm going to have to report this to the White House. At this point, we must assume that Blair Powell is in imminent danger of either an assassination or abduction attempt. I'm going to recommend that she be secluded for the time being until we can carry out our investigation. It is possible that this investigation will be removed from our jurisdiction--" she held up her hand for silence as the agents shifted in their seats and murmured in protest.