To be certain, Louise's 'usual' undergarments--at least, when she was on the job--were fairly perfunctory, but still very nice: perhaps a lacy pair of boy shorts teamed with a balconette brassiere. But there were times when she wanted to dress up, to feel prettier than just a Detective Sergeant doing man's work in a typically male vocation. It wasn't often that she got the chance, and so, as she prepared for this evening, she chose the most feminine accoutrements she had in her closet. She just wanted to be Louise, to separate herself from her title. Just once.

She let out a muffled groan as he kissed her again, even harder this time, pulling her against him, and she shivered at the touch of his fingers against her bare skin--something she'd entertained in her head many times in recent weeks, but never thought she'd actually experience. Parting their lips for just a scant moment, she stood there, panting, attempting to get her bearings before she spoke.

"JIM." It was one word, his name--but it was loaded with uncertainty, of questioning their confusing feelings, of wondering how long, if at all, he'd harboured the same intensity of emotion, of desperately wanting, and yet hesitating.