Dear Readers:

The following story has risqué subject matter and will probably not suit everyone who reads it. Although not a true definition of the lifestyle, this does contain some Dominant/submissive themes that may make some people uncomfortable, as well as some bondage, and other non-traditional sexual acts. It is a very strongly M-rated story for adults only that I wrote for a writing group I am in. It is a story worth telling; next story is much more traditional "KricketWilliams" style. If you feel you need to wait this one out, I understand.

That being said, I feel I have done my best to write this with the same amount of love and passion I believe is trademark with Morgan and Garcia. I hope to be able to take you along on this experimental ride.

Sincerely yours,
Kricket

PS. This is NOT a BDSM (Sado-Masochism) story- no whips, chains, or beatings. I truly believe they would never hurt each other, even in kinky play.

Chapter 1

"So, I was thinking lunch, Momma, on Saturday?" He paused for a second, "If you're not busy, that is."

Penelope twirled her fuzzy tipped pen in one hand, rested her chin on her hand, and smiled, before answering, "Au contraire, mon cher. I am never too busy for you."

He sighed wistfully on the other line. "Oh, baby. If only that wer- wait a second, P. I got a call on the other line."

"'k."

Penelope waited, drumming her pink-tipped nails on the desk. She didn't mind waiting for Derek. He was her main squeeze, in a totally platonic-like squeezing way. Not that she didn't want to squeeze him in a different fashion. She would be all up for that, if he ever wanted it.

He clicked back. "Okay, peanut. I'm done."

"Peanut?" she questioned. "I feel like your ten year old."

"Nonsense," he said, the timbre in his voice low and rumbling. "I just want to get under your shell…"

She giggled. "Silly boy."

"It's true, woman."

She got a zinging little thrill every time he teased her like that. She pressed her thighs together to get it to stop, and changed the subject. "Who was on the other line?"

"Donny. He's a friend from college. He wants to go clubbing this weekend in New York."

Penelope's heart sped up. She loved dancing with Derek. It had taken her a long time to dance with him; she'd turned him down for years, but once they got down on the floor, she'd adored it. It was one of the few times she got to touch him, really touch him, and not feel guilty about it.

Trying to hold her excitement back, she said, "Are you going to go?"

"Yeah, I'm thinking about it," he said.

"Should I wear red?" she asked hopefully, hinting bluntly that she wanted to go, too.

She waited with high anticipation for a few moments. He didn't answer. In fact, it was so quiet, she swore she could hear crickets.

"Derek?"

"P, sweetness," he started softly in his most cajolingly sweet voice. "This isn't the kind of place for you."

"Oh. Well." She looked down, her cheeks heating. She was glad he wasn't there to see her disappointment. She even had some tears in her eyes. Sometimes things didn't work out, and she had invited herself, after all. She didn't want it to hurt, but it did. She couldn't help but think he didn't want her with him.

Then he continued, "It's for the best, Baby Girl. It's very risqué, not what you are used to. I think you'd be uncomfortable there."

Now she was irritated. He was doing it again, treating her like a baby. He loved to protect her, but sometimes he was very overprotective. How did he know what she would be uncomfortable with? She'd had a crush on Derek for years, and they flirted, but he was more like a big brother at times. Hell, Derek thought she still needed to see G-rated movies most of the time.

"Lots of scantily clad women?" she asked with a touch of sarcasm.

He let out a low chuckle. "You could say that."

"That wouldn't bother me. I can dress scantily."

"Not at this sort of place."

His tone booked no argument. She actually gulped; he sounded so… forceful.

He sighed heavily and continued, "Listen, baby, you have to trust me on this one. It's not your cuppa; no way. I know what I am talking about."

"What's it called?"

He snickered. "Oh, hell, no. I wasn't born yesterday, woman. I am not telling you so you can look it up. Get it out of your hard head that you're going."

"Sometimes you royally suck, Derek Morgan." She knew she sounded petulant, but she didn't care.

"You're pissed now," he said assuredly, "but it's not for you. I know I suck for being protective of you, but someday, you may even thank me." His tone was teasing now, obviously trying to change the subject. "Speaking of sucking..."

"You're never going to get that chance to do any sucking anywhere on me," she said angrily. "In fact, the only thing you're going to be doing is kissing. As in, kiss my ass, Derek; I'm a big girl."

With that, she hung up the phone.