2019-09-22 - Dance, Dance! (And Mind Trance.)

As promised, it is DANCE NIGHT! Sarah Stevens has hung up her badge and her gun for One Night Only (lets not kid ourselves, she totally has a gun on her somewhere) to let her hair down and have a good time that, for once, is not beach-related. Instead of a swimsuit, the Californian blonde rocks a little black dress, the kind every woman who enjoys a club has in the back of her closet. It's been a while since she's worn it, but her diet and exercise routine lets it slip back on just as she remembered it.

Sarah texts Claire a few times, a bit of back and forth, some winkie-faced emojis, and the time and place was set. Now the Detective lounges outside, leaning against the wall of the Firefly Club while waiting for Claire to arrive. She didn't particularly SAY she has new information to talk about, but she definitely hinted around that fact.

Wearing a leather jacket that covers up the top half of her dress, the bottom half reaches down to mid-thigh on the policewoman. Her heels are low and sensible, but they're still heels, adding up an extra inch of height. She's checking her phone by the time Claire has rolled up, and the movement out of her peripheral vision has her looking up and at the redhead.

"Oh, hey!" A big smile spreads across her lips, carving dimples into her cheeks. "You made it. Awesome. Should we head in?"

The impending partying elicits exuberant texts from the younger dispatcher. She asks if she needs to bring anything. And when 'new information' comes up, she does her best to try to lure the information from Sarah. No such luck!

She's wearing a black pair of shorts, a cropped, black, sleeveless tee with a colorful design on the chest, a plaid shirt that drapes around her like a jacket, and black ankle boots. Don't forget the sunglasses. Her lips are a bright crimson and her eyes are lined darkly behind those sunglasses. And there's a fluid relaxation behind all that that the prior Vice officer might recognize as more than just Claire's usual demeanor. She's not knocked out by any means. Just pleasantly buzzed. And so it is that when she sees Sarah, she stops a few feet away, those crimson lips curve into a smile and she wolf-whistles. "Looking fine, chica. The boys will be drooling. And I'm sure some girls will be all up in your business, too."

"Well, it's not the boys I'm trying to impress tonight." The policewoman quips with a saucy smirk tugging at her lips. She saunters closer to the redhead, looking her up and down, allowing her eyes to boldly roam where eyes usually do not politely roam. "Look at you, getting all grunge punk-lite tonight. I dig it."

The blonde leans forward and reaches for one of Claire's hands, giving her a small tug. Lips press against the other woman's cheek, brief and moist, leaving behind a hint of lip gloss. Sarah turns, walking beside the dispatcher as she leads them into the club.

"I'm happy you came. Some stuff we shold probably talk about. About what we talked about before? I didn't get a chance to talk to your brother about it, anyway, and he seems... less inclined to believe me, anyway. There's some crazy shit going down."

If she notices Claire's intoxication with any substances, she doesn't mention it. She's a Cali-born libertine. No time to judge other people's choices in lifestyles! Too busy living her own ocean-bound surfer ways.

A flash of IDs gets the two women in the doors of the club, and Sarah eyeballs which way to go. Straight to the dance floor, or to the bar? The bar wins out. Drinks to loosen the limbs and allow some chit-chat before the main event. A hand goes to the small of the redhead's back, guiding her towards the place where the drinking happens. She leans in close to be heard above the music, chin almost on the dispatcher's shoulder.

"It's not L.A. or San-Fran, but it's the best we got. But don't be too disappointed, Claire-bear. The night's still young!"

"Well, it's not the boys I'm trying to impress tonight." The policewoman quips with a saucy smirk tugging at her lips. She saunters closer to the redhead, looking her up and down, allowing her eyes to boldly roam where eyes usually do not politely roam. "Look at you, getting all grunge punk-lite tonight. I dig it."

The blonde leans forward and reaches for one of Claire's hands, giving her a small tug. Lips press against the other woman's cheek, brief and moist, leaving behind a hint of lip gloss. Sarah turns, walking beside the dispatcher as she leads them into the club.

"I'm happy you came. Some stuff we shold probably talk about. About what we talked about before? I didn't get a chance to talk to your brother about it, anyway, and he seems... less inclined to believe me, anyway. There's some crazy shit going down."

If she notices Claire's intoxication with any substances, she doesn't mention it. She's a Cali-born libertine. No time to judge other people's choices in lifestyles! Too busy living her own ocean-bound surfer ways.

A flash of IDs gets the two women in the doors of the club, and Sarah eyeballs which way to go. Straight to the dance floor, or to the bar? The bar wins out. Drinks to loosen the limbs and allow some chit-chat before the main event. A hand goes to the small of the redhead's back, guiding her towards the place where the drinking happens. She leans in close to be heard above the music, chin almost on the dispatcher's shoulder.

"It's not L.A. or San-Fran, but it's the best we got. But don't be too disappointed, Claire-bear. The night's still young!"

Claire's brown eyes twinkle at the comment about who Sarah's trying to impress and not trying to impress. "I figured, ya surfer." Claire doesn't look at all bothered by the bold onceover. In fact she shimmies once in response. "We're going to dance tonight until you can't stand up any more." Someone's definitely missing her San Francisco oats. She flashes her ID at the right time and offers the bouncer/door supervisor a cute little grin. "Hi." Then they're moving further in and Claire confides, "This guy I met said not to come here without a in-the-know local or three. Something about bad shit." She arches a brow at Sarah as if to ask if her intel is accurate. That's when Sarah tells her she has other crazy shit going down. "Spill, Stevens." She doesn't use the 'officer' nomenclature in the club. Oh no.

The bar, of course. Always the bar. At least for a drink or two, at which point Claire may insist on dancing. Claire leans into the close talking. It's easier with the music thrumming, anyway. "I'll withhold judgment for a couple hours," she agrees with a grin and a glance over the lenses of her glasses at Sarah.

"Don't tease me with a good time." Sarah rejoins at the mention of dancing until she can't stand up, bobbing her eyesbrows with a positively sinful smile as she tries to flag down a bartender. She fails the first few tries, but eventually gets one. "Rum and coke and..." Turning towards Claire, she points at the redhead, face expectant while waiting for Claire to give her order.

As they await their drinks, the blonde hooks a finger inside of the dispatcher's shorts, tugging her closer, leaning with one hip against the bar, until they're almost face-to-face. Sarah's hand slides into red locks of hair, gently wrapping her fingers around the back of her evening companion's neck, where spine meets skull, and pulling her in, their lips on a crash collision course...

Diverted at the last minute as the blonde gives a teasing smile and brushes cheeks with her instead. The redhead can feel lips brush her ear, breath warm against it. "You're going to think I'm so fucking crazy, Claire-bear. But there's some real X-Men shit happening. And the disappearances are from extradimensional kidnappings." A beat. "Try not to have my locked up as a dangerous lunatic, yeah?"

"I saw a man at the beach control my partner's mind and make her see things. I saw it happen, I felt it happen. I saw this... energy connect them. I know it sounds like bullshit, but there is something WRONG in this town."

The blonde leans back out of Claire's immediate personal space as their drinks are delivered. She does not remove her hand from the side of the redhead's face when she reaches for her own, her thumb caressing the dispatcher's cheek for a lengthy moment as she takes a swig. Only when her glass is set back down on the bar, does she finally withdraw her lingering touch, looking at Claire as if she expects judgement.

Then a glance out at the rest of the club. "There's some seedy shit that happens here, yeah. But you're with a cop, and that makes fucking with you an instant buzzkill for anyone else. So you'll be fine."

"Oh I'll tease you. That's my job," Claire retorts. Sarah's order of one of her favorite drinks tips Claire's brows up. "Same," she answers, looking back to the bartender. "Thanks." Another of her ready smiles. She's caught entirely unaware as she is pulled close with parted lips only to curve a return smile at Sarah, her soft, fiery locks tangled with Sarah's fingers. The scent of rosemary-mint accosts the detective's nostrils as she leans in to murmur teasingly against the curve of Claire's ear.

"If I didn't already think you're crazy, then I think you'll be fine." There's some recognition of the things Sarah said at Two If By Sea, while at the same time there's awareness that the things she said could be construed as wild. Still, Claire tends to take people at face value. Sure there are multiple grains of salt, but Claire's not a cynic. Sarah continues and tells her story and Claire gives her wide eyes. Mind control! "What did the man make your partner do?" She shakes her head slowly. "It sounds like something that insane might be the only thing that explains the shit you were describing the other night. Do you think it's just that guy or other people have ... the ability to do crazy ass shit like that?"

Sarah draws back and Claire watches her, the smile drifting away to display a perceptive brown eyed gaze. There's a thoughtfulness to Claire, and perhaps the slightest hint that she's putting out feelers to see if Sarah is punking her. But she's not laughing in Sarah's face. "So people here know you're a cop?" Claire wasn't going to let it slip: she's still not used to small-town everyone-knows-what-everyone-else's-great aunt had for breakfast'. It doesn't look like Claire was trepidatious more than dangerously curious.

"He just... he made her see things. Things that weren't there. Bugs, apparently. Crawling all over her." The blonde gives a shudder at the thought. "I couldn't see them, but she was freaking the fuck out in a way I've never seen her do. That woman's had guns pulled in her face and never been that terrified. She went screaming into the goddamned ocean, I had to try and pull her out before she drowned herself."

Sarah makes a face, looking down at her drink and shaking her head. "It's hard to believe, and I'm the one who saw it. She shook it off as some temporary hallucination. I haven't really tried to convince her what happened. She doesn't believe me. But..."

Blue eyes return to the redhead, searching the dispatcher's gaze, bouncing from one eye to the other. "I don't think it's just him. He mentioned I have the 'potential', whatever that means. That's why I could see it. I'm going to meet him again, but my guess? He isn't a one-off or a fluke."

Sarah tosses back her drink, throwing her head back and flicking her hair over her shoulder. The rum and coke is finished off in a single go, and she unzips her jacket while making a face. Once the leather is being shrugged off of her shoulders, it reveals the top of her dress, which leaves her shoulders bare, two straps coming up to tie behind her neck. A plunging v-neck leads down into just all the cleavage.

A pair of sure hands find Claire's hips next, turning to push her lightly against the bar. This time when Detective Stevens leans in, their lips touch. It's soft, feminine, and brief. A warm mingling of breaths, a gentle caress of one mouth against another, a little wet, a hint of tongue. And then it's gone.

She gives a swat to the Dispatcher's hip, the Detective's own rolling slowly from side-to-side as if the rhythm is deeply moving her already. "Everyone in this town knows I'm the dyke from the Five-Oh. And now they know you're mine for the night. So finish your drink and we can dance."

The ginger wrinkles her nose at the thought of being manipulated to believe bugs are crawling all over oneself. "That's unpleasant. Is she okay now?" Claire asks, "Was the man a suspect? Do you have any idea how he -- could your partner have just had some sort of break?" Trying to drown herself. How horrible! "I mean ... how did you know the man caused it?" Again, there isn't disbelief so much as a determined effort to find out as much as she can. "Wait, she doesn't believe you about the man or that there weren't any bugs?"

"Potential? I'll ask you kindly not to make me believe I'm crawling with bugs." There's a glint of something thoughtful in Claire's eyes. It may have been perhaps too easy to convince her of something of this sort. Or it's just Claire's carefree outlook. Or the high. "Do you think you have potential? I mean, do you want to try something less disgusting than bugs on me?" She smiles brightly. "By which I mean to say: I'm game." Claire's brows tip back upward again. "You're going to meet the guy again who made your partner freak the fuck out? That doesn't sound dangerous at all."

When Sarah takes her drink, Claire drags off her plaid shirt and ties it low around her hips. She pulls a ten-dollar bill out of her pocket and puts it on the bar. Then when Sarah's divesting herself of her jacket, Claire reaches for her drink and takes a slow sip. She's not downing hers like Sarah did. Maybe that cash has to last her longer than she'd like. She's setting down her glass when Sarah reveals what the good lord gave her. "Well, that's a sight to see," she murmurs musingly. "You're not playing games, are you, det-- Sarah?" Amusement touches at her features as she meets those blue eyes with a sparkling grin. The hands at her hips shift that look to something else entirely. Claire breathes in against Sarah's lips, her own lips soft and warm, then she curves to a smaller smile, brushing similar lips. She doesn't tense or drag back against the embrace, short as it is; she simply savors it, while tasting of the R&C she just swallowed.

The swat actually makes her laugh. "I think you might be dangerous, my friend." The possessive words reach Claire and she laughs a bit more. "I don't do 'belonging' very well, to be honest. But I have no interest in dissuading anyone of anything. Dancing sounds much more fun." And she proves it by picking up her glass and downing the rest just like Sarah did a few moments prior. She reaches for Sarah's shoulder and pulls the woman back in if she doesn't back away. "Next time warn me if I'm going to get a taste." She slides up against the slightly taller detective and takes her own taste, the sweet burn of her drink transfering to the other woman's lips playfully and she makes good on the implied promise to take a taste. "Mmmm. Rum and surfer. Not a bad combination." Claire falls away and turns without another word to head for the dance floor.

"I saw it, honey." Sarah replies with a sinful smirk, liting a hand up to point at one of her baby blues. "I saw it with my own two eyes. He hit her with some kind of energy, and that's when she started freaking out. She didn't see the energy. She thinks she just got into some hallucinogens from the evidence room or some shit."

When Claire leans in towards her for a second 'taste', the Detective obliges. Her fingers dig into the redhead's hips, dimpling the skin there as lets out a low, feminine moan into the dispatcher's mouth, tasting both rum and coke on her tongue. Her own slides between them, massaging Claire's exploratorily, hot, wet. Until they part, Sarah biting her lip with a devilish grin across her lips.

"He actually wasn't a suspect, he was there to help us with a case. She just... pissed him off. As she's wont to do. She pisses everyone off." A shoulder is lifted casually she keeps a hand on the redhead's hip, following towards the dance floor. "I said 'potential', not that I can do anything. But don't worry, I'll cast a spell on you." A beat. "Danger is part of the job."

"I'm only dangerous if you hate going down on girls." Sarah quips as they reach the mass of bodies, squirming through them. The temperature rises several degrees just from the body heat of those writhing around them. The policewoman wastes no time in turning to face Claire. She raises her arms high, sliding her hips from side to side in time with the beat. One of her arms comes down, hooking a finger into the collar that the other woman wears, pulling her in closer.

"Don't worry, Claire-bear." Sarah says the words almost directly into the younger woman's ear, sliding her arms around her. They're soon grinding into each other to the beat, their legs tangled, dancing in ways, with rolls of their hips that would doubtlessly leave their mother's ashamed. "I'll let you go. ...In the morning. You're only mine for tonight. I did promise to show you my boat, didn't I?"

Shamelessly, Sarah lets her hands roam down Claire's back, her touch firm and unabashed against her skin, warm and with a few callouses from beating one too many people with a Maglite and a tactical baton. Her hand slides a little lower, cupping one side of her dance partner's rear, giving it a light squeeze as she laughs. Her chin tucks in and under, sweeping her hair to one side as she nuzzles her nose beneath Claire Reid's jaw, her teeth dragging over skin as she nips at the dispatcher's throat.

Sarah saw it. "Well, that's another thing entirely, seeing it," Claire states with an intrigued light to her brown eyes. "I think that's something I'd like to see, too." Watching someone make another person see things. "You'd think she'd have known it if she rolled around in hallies enough to start seeing bugs swarming her body, yeah?" Claire shakes her head. Claire draws back from that kiss and tugs at one of Sarah's hands before she realizes the woman is going to elaborate. She pulls back in and watches the cop with an intrigued gaze. "Yeah, I don't doubt your partner would be that kind." What kind of judgment is that? That other hand is on her hip. "Yeah, yeah. Cast your spell, just tell me when you do. I want to try to see what you saw." The young woman is not joking about that. She rolls her eyes a little at the 'danger is part of the job' line. Yes, Claire is aware.

Sarah's only dangerous if ... Claire widens her eyes a bit. "Oh, darling Sarah. You're not working under the assumption that I'm going home with you, are you? No no no. I don't sleep with my brother's colleagues. That's a big no-no. Besides, I like you too much. Your fault." It's not that Claire wouldn't like to see Sarah's boat. She was interested in that from the day they met. But sex? With Sarah? Even with that flirtatious grin, it's easy to see she doesn't intend to have sex with the beautiful woman. Her cheeks flush at the repeated possesive words.

But that's when they're headed to dance. And Claire's not shy about dancing. Not at all. She slides into the other woman and rotates around with a little shimmy, tangling her fingers in her own hair and dragging it up with her back to Sarah and grinning at some random Joe dancing with a petite woman a few feet away. Poor Joe. The combination of Sarah and Claire on the floor is more than an eyeful. He stares at the two woman, forgetting to do much dancing himself.

Sarah's hand is retracted from it's irascibly irresponsible postion, the woman placing her lips against the throat of the redhead before she extricates herself from beneath that jaw. She holds her hands up in a sign of surrender as they dance, flashing the famous Hollywood smile. "Message received."

The pair continue to dance, close to each other, the Detective's hands in the air as often as not. Other times they rest on Claire's shoulder, at her waist, laughing as Poor Joe's rhythm is thrown off by their display.

Just for his benefit, the blonde slides in behind the redhead, an arm around her waist. Their hips roll together, mostly in synch, as she shoots the man a look from under her long bangs, full of way too much promise and sin to ever be anything more than a tease. She lets go of the dispatcher, but still has to lean in close and speak up to be heard.

"I don't think my partner has whatever 'it' is that lets people see... whatever that was. She's like a Muggle." Leave it to Sarah Stevens to work in a movie reference. She has a weakness for all things cinema, good or bad. "And I think people around here, they just have this... this way of explaining things away, you know? It doesn't even register to them. To them, it really IS just an accident, or some kind of drug, or whatever. Like they rationalize."

Claire shows absolutely no qualms about Sarah's hands on her person. In fact, she's equally touchy: tucking a curl of blonde hair behind the woman's ear, grabbing the woman's waist and tugging her close, trailing hands down Sarah's legs when she lowers herself to the balls of her feet and rises back upward again, even leaning in to drag teeth against the woman's ear. Carter's little sister doesn't pull punches when she dances. At one point, she even grabs Sarah's hand and spins her in a curve up against her body before releasing her again. Her laughter is even more ready as they build up a sweat and play in loops around each other. The Joes on the floor are /very/ glad they came dancing on this particular night. Though whenever one gets too close, Claire has been both the inviter and the one to shove them away.

One song spins into another spins into another. Claire was made for dancing. Her energy only seems to increase, the more hot and sweaty they get. She slows down her movements when Sarah leans in to speak. "So you have to show me this 'it'. I want to learn it if I can. And I certainly don't want to be a stinking muggle." That would be no fun, and Claire is all about fun. "I think if what you're saying is true, then I understand people's tendency to explain it away. I think you're an exception rather than the rule. In all sorts of ways, Sarah, if you ask me. You seem to try to see what's out there rather than making all that --" She waves a hand lazily to indicate the world at large. "-- fit into some previously conceived notion of reality. I don't think you're a 'rationalizer' at all." And this close to talk she can't quite keep from leaning in that much further and brushing a teasing slide of her lips over the curve of Sarah's ear with a small hum of laughter. "I seriously want you to try. But maybe you could make it feel more like a hot shower than swarming bugs."

Sarah spins into the twirl with a laugh, her hair flicking out every which way as her wild mane of golden locks follows after her just a half second behind her motions. Of course, when any Bros get too close, they get the back-off warning glare from the lesbian policewoman. As much fun as she might be having, she has no desire for the awkward come-ons of menfolk and their weird pickup lines. One even gets a middle finger directly in his face when he doesn't quite get the hint, while the Detective, slips an arm around Claire's waist and sashays to a different part of the dance floor away from him.

The music runs together, and with a bit of alcohol in her system, Sarah lets loose and shows off what moves she has. They aren't that great. She mostly gets by on the dance floor through the ability to be hot, the tightness of her dress, and how she is unashamedly willing to dance up on another woman. A slick sheen of perspiration begins to show on her skin as they continue, almost always touching in some fashion, the blonde's hand currently draped at the wrist over the redhead's shoulder.

She runs a hand through her own hair, head back, eyes closed, feeling the lights instead of seeing them, with a dreamy little half-smile on her face as if she were the one that's high. High on Life, maybe! Those blue eyes open and fixate on her dance partner as she's asked to show her what 'it' is.

"I don't know myself, Claire-bear. I'm kind of in contact with a super-powered hobo about it right now. When I know, you'll know. I promise. I'd say you can come meet him, but he's already proven he can be a danger. I'm pretty sure Reid would have my ass, rookie or no, if I put you in that situation." A beat. "So let's just not tell him, 'kay?"

She shakes her head as the music slows down enough for them to catch their breath with a slow sway. Both of her arms link around and behind Claire's neck, 8-grade romancing it as they continue to dance. "Thanks, I try not to rationalize any more than I have to. I don't know about all this confidence you have in me, though. I'm just kind of... weirding it out as I go. Trying to make sense of it. It's like there's something bigger than crime that this town needs protecting from."

When the redhead leans in, teasing her ear with a pair of lips, Sarah's shoulders give an involuntary little shiver. She nips at the side of the dispatcher's jaw with her teeth. "Don't do that if you don't mean it."

"Okay. Okay, I'll... try... something... Fuck, I don't know what I'm doing." The policewoman closes her eyes as they sway in slow circles, trying to concentrate. Concentrating on Claire, on the feel of her. Her body, the heat. Her sweat. Her breathing. The sound of her voice. All so close. She tries to focus on the woman and the way they touch each other.

There's a feeling, not quite a thought, not quite a sensation. A brief feeling, an emotion. It feels like excitement and possibility, passion and exploration. It was there when they kissed at the bar, and it's there now, in Claire's mind, a flash of lips, a moan, soft and feminine. Just a flash, and then it's gone.

And there's Sarah, dancing with the redhead in her arms, eyes and brows all scrunched up, still with her eyes closed. "...Anything yet?"

Sarah is a beautiful enigma, at a close-close distance. Claire watches her, engages with her, moves with her. The feminine scent of sweat touches at the senses. And still they dance some more. Claire laughs with Sarah when one or the other of them tries a new move, stretches her fingers to the sky and dances as if there were a god she could worship kinesthetically. A carnal god, but a god nonetheless.

She doesn't know the 'it' but Claire watches her with confidence, anyhow. The music slows and Sarah's hands at her shoulders leave Claire's to settle on the other woman's hips. "Weirding it out is a good a way as any, I'll bet. Your brain is going to figure this out, Sarah. I'd put money on it, and money's a little scarce right now." Confident. The chide from Sarah has Claire pulling back a few inches. "Sorry." She doesn't look sorry, but she looks wary.

Sarah will try something. Claire's smile returns. Expecting. She, too, closes her eyes and lets the music swell through and around herself. The feeling comes like a wave that slides through her, tugging at her feet as if they were pulled by an unseen current. "What the --" The two words are under her breath. She doesn't open her eyes when she murmurs, "Do that again. Slow everything down and do it again."

"It's okay." Sarah murmurs after the apology, still keeping her eyes closed. They open when the other woman says something else, though. Blue eyes are confused by the followup request. She glances around. Good, slow song still playing. Still, she frowns, gaze returning to the woman right in front of her, in her arms. She tries to remember what she just did.

"Something happen?"

"Okay. Okay... mmm..." And there goes the brow-wrinkle of concentration again. Those yellow arches tug downwards, the space between her brows crinkling as she shuts her eyes and tries to concentrate again. The pair might as well be alone in the room, for all the attention that Stevens doesn't pay any of the rest of it.

Sarah pulls the redhead in close, resting her forehead against the dispatcher's, touching their third eyes as she feels their breathes mingle warm in front of them. The skin on her dance partner's shoulders is hot and slick. Sweat. It helps her remember, to focus on the feeling. Something more pleasant than crawling bugs that want to devour her skin and brains and eyeballs.

It flashes past again. Lips, a moan, the tingle of a fresh kiss. The enticing smell of their respective shampoos. Sarah focuses harder, trying to play it through, slow it down. It comes back, not quite in the mind's eye, but felt. Just barely, on the edges of Claire's senses.

The lean in, the anticipation and excitement, the enticing newness of it. Softer, slower. The groan of pleasure that's drawn out, the feel of fingertips squeezing into her waist. The way the breath catches, hitches in the throat, before spilling warmly over another's cheek. The wet friction of a tongue, sliding, massaging. The taste of another mouth. Rum. Coke. A flavor unique to the woman in question beyond all that. An emotion comes with it, a thought, overwhelming desire, need, want, and passion unable to contain itself.

And then it's gone again. The Detective creeps an eye open. "Work that time?"

The reassurance relaxes Claire's shoulders. Her eyes are closed when Sarah frowns. "Yeah, I think so, but I'm not sure." This to the query of whether anything happened. Sarah hmms and Claire imagines being open to the next wave, tries to prepare herself for what she initially expected to be some sort of crawling sensation but felt so differently a few moments before. She's shut out the sound of the base, of the music, shut out the feeling of the crowd of people dancing around them.

Sarah's forehead gently leans into Claire's and the young, auburn-haired dispatcher lets that touch center her own receptivity. With the initial sensations, Claire's lips part. A shiver runs down her spine. Each sense memory fires with those accosting her mind.

Sarah asks the question a second time and Claire slowly opens her eyes to look at Sarah's one-eyed expression with warmth and a flush over her own skin. "Were you thinking about kissing me?" She's hardly audible over the sound of the dancefloor. Her brown eyes are full of those transferred sensations and breathless excitement. "Because if you weren't, then my imagination is playing tricks on me. Yummy sorts of tricks."

Sarah's shoulders bounce in a slow shrug as she looks guiltily awaaaaaaaaaaay with a smile on her face, opening up both of her eyes. She bites her lower lip, looking at some other pair dancing in the crowd and nods her head just a bit. Eventually, she looks back at the redhead she's holding onto.

"Well, you DID ask for something more pleasant than bugs. And I like to think my lips rank just a little higher than they do."

There's a brief pauses as Sarah looks from the younger woman's eyes, to her lips. They linger there for a while, probably longer than is strictly appropriate, as they continue their slow circle for as long as the music lasts. Any minute now the DJ will bring the beat back and the quiet will end. But for the next few heartbeats, they have a welcome respite. Her blue gaze returns to Claire's.

"So you felt it? Saw it? Thought it?" Was it a coincidence or did she do something? She didn't feel anything... though unless the dispatcher is clairvoyant, something must have happened. "At least I know I qualify as 'yummy'." The cop grins, the smile that spreads wide on her lips, brightens her whole face, if not the room, and carves dimples into her cheeks.

"So what happened? Don't leave me in suspense! Was it like a flashback? Did you hear my voice Charles Xavier'ing into your mind?"

Claire watches Sarah look away with a brimming smile. She knows better than to tease the woman now so she waits (and sways). "Definitely more pleasant than bugs. Hands down or .. whereever they were. For sure." Claire replies and the smile tips into her words. She, too, is pleased to maintain the slow swaying while the music is subdued (and throbbing with base). She gazes into those spectacular blue eyes growing thoughtful. "I think I ... felt it. From maybe your point of view? All the different parts of it. Touch, taste, feel. Everything." How would she know 'everything' or not, really? "Could you tell you did something? Did it feel like --" She laughs. "No, no I didn't hear you talking or anything crazy like that. Were you thinking about narrating?" Because that would be a little strange. Claire imagines the running narrative of a really bad romance novel and laughs even more. "Can -- can I try something?" Because the other night when she was giving a back massage ...

"Good. Good to know. I beat bugs. Fuck yeah." Sarah grins, lifting a hand briefly to swipe through her hair, wipe the long, golden locks away from her flushed and sweaty cheeks where they keep trying to stick to. It returns to draping her wrist over Claire's shoulder as the music starts to pick up again.

With her head thrown back, the blonde detective lets out a whoop of excitement and gratitude for the DJ as they begin to move a little faster, one arm up in the air, the other around the dispatcher's shoulders to keep her close and in tight. She entangles their legs, dancing around one of the redhead's thighs as she gets low, sliding down Claire's body and then back up, her dress doing little to protect their bodies from the incidental contact.

"I was just trying to think of something that felt good. And that was recent and fresh. Like, vivid." A hand is placed next to her head, starting as a fist and exploding with her fingers splayed to indicate how the memory 'popped'. "You're a very good kisser, so I figured 'Hey, this'll do, Pig. This'll do.'"

There's a small laugh, she looks away again, and then back. "I was thinking a lot of things at that moment, but... I guess not really narrating? I was just trying to make you see and feel something. Feel it again? Does that make sense? Like trying to recall it really hard, and just kind of... focusing on you, like handing you a football. A memory football!"

As Claire asks to try something, the blonde tilts her head, swaying against the redhead, rubbing thier bodies together. She gives a singular affirmative nod. "Lay one on me, Hot Stuff."

"You so beat bugs. That's not even funny, it's so wrong," Claire grumbles, though the warmth in her brown eyes never really dissipates. The music picks up and Claire doesn't quite go there yet. Sure she sways, bounces, does all the things she can easily do without thinking about it. A hip kick here, a glide there as Sarah slides downward and back up again. She tucks a damp strand of blonde hair back from Sarah's face. "Pretty damned vivid, yeah," is Claire's reply. "Thanks. I like to think that the person I'm kissing has something to do with how well I kiss." This'll do, Pig. Claire tips her head back and laughs animatedly. "I'm not so sure if the porcine allusion works correctly, there. But hey, who am I to judge?"

"Yeah, it makes sense," the ginger replies. "Complete sense. Football hand-offs, hmm?" They sway together for awhile,, moving toward and away from each other, Claire's hands returning to Sarah's hips. "Turn around," she says when Sarah tells her to lay it on. "It's the only way I've done this before."

She leans up to her toes from behind Sarah when the woman has turned and speaks low, "I'm gonna pretend you're stressed and your muscles are completely tight for this, okay? It's the only way I know to ..." Her words trail off as she moves back to her flat feet in those boots. Claire goes still behind Sarah's back except from her hands that pulled free of the woman's hips when she turned and resettled at the small of her back. Both palms flat, she slides them up together over that dress from low on her back to the top of her shoulders and drags in a breath, exhaling slowly. Her fingertips press harder and drag all the way back down, eight points across Sarah's back.

Somewhere about when her hands finish their up-swing, a tingling sensation hits Sarah's awareness. It's not unpleasant. But it kicks in like a lightswitch being flicked on when she feels those fingertips travel back downward. Each one leaves an electric awareness, each muscle she passes with her touch warms. With no injury to heal, no stress to undo, instead Sarah's back relaxes and revitalizing energy flows through her body, wicking out to nerve centers around her body and giving her a delicious topping-off of good energy, of warmth, and no small amount of pleasure.

When did Claire pull her hands away? The afterburn of that invigoration spins out through Sarah's body. There were no thoughts, none of Claire's end of the sensation. Just a blissful roll of energy and relaxation through Sarah's body. Claire stands still on the dance floor, and when Sarah turns to look at her, she's staring a bit at her fingers. She looks up and smiles, dropping those hands to her sides. "Anything?" She's pretty sure there was something.

"It's okay, I'm a cop. I'm allowed to use that line." Sarah grins brightly, waggling her out of control eyebrows wildly. "That's OUR word." Pig, that is. God help the Civilian that tries to call one of them that. People have gotten billy club'd for less.

"Oh, you've done this before." The blonde looks both alarmed and curious, but turning around she does, working the ass her Momma gave her. She grinds it against in slow rolls rasing both arms above her head, crossed lightly at the wrists. One foot is in front of the other , a bit apart and off-sides from one another, as she rolls her hips again and again, waiting to see, or feel, what is about to be done to her.

The whisper in her ear has her tilting her head to the side, trying to listen over the noise of the music. But she bounces her head in an indication that she is game. The blonde's back IS tight under Claire's hands, but that's because she spends a great deal of time at the gym. As the redhead begins her work, she at least manages to stop doing her Booty Roll long enough to let her do her thing.

Now they're just two weirdos not-dancing on the dance floor.

At first, all she feels is some hands gliding along her back, poking and prodding a bit, pressure in different places. Then comes the traverse down, and at first the sensation isn't really registered. It just feels a bit warm. But the further down Claire travels, the more it tingles, until Detective Hollywood is arching her spine and parting her lips as a shiver wracks through her. She spins around like she's shaking off the heebie-jeebies, eyes wide, reaching for the redhead's wrist.

She looks at Claire's fingers, then at the woman herself. "Holy SHIT! I almost had an orgasm!" She doesn't seem to notice that she's shouting, or loud enough that at least two people look at them askance from nearby. "That was fucking awesome! What was that? ...Do you do House Calls? Can I get the Happy Ending version of that?"

One hand is kept on the dispatcher's wrist, and the detective starts to pull the woman back towards the bar, sliding between bouncing and bumping bodies of the normies all around them. "Come on. I need a drink and a smoke after that. What did you do?"

So noted. It's not like Claire would ever use the word to refer to law-enforcers of any kind. "Sort of," she answers to Sarah's statement that she's done this before. "Not on purpose." Sarah's pose for the Spirit Glimmer does tip another ready smile to the auburn-haired dispatcher's lips. If Sarah is tight, then the energy would relax any unpleasant tightness, but certainly not undo the good shape the detective is in. Being one of two people not dancing in the middle of a writhing mass of Gray Harbor partiers doesn't seem to bother Claire in any way. Claire is a free spirit. And this is what her spirit wants to do right this moment.

After she finishes the dragging-down of fingertips, looks to her hands, and Sarah spins around, Claire goes to drop her hands and finds one wrist caught, her smile sliding back into place. "It worked? Holy shit, yes! It worked!" No, she wasn't trying to give the other woman an orgasm. But hey! Nice side-effect, right? Brown eyes are lit up like the Fourth of July. "I didn't know if it really was ... if I could ... this is fantastic!" She whoops a bit just as others are looking in the direction that the word 'orgasm' was shouted. She shakes her head ruefully, "I don't do orgasms." At least she didn't the only time she tried this before. That would have been awkward. "Okay," she answers and follows where Sarah leads them both, her plaid shirt still tied low around her hips.

When Claire declares that she does 'do orgasms', Sarah stops, just short of reaching the bar, as if she were hit with an invisible paralysis ray. She slowwwwwwly turns around, her face frozen in a mask of 'WTF did you just say'. Mouth open, lips tilted a little akimbo, eyes open wide, head leaning back a bit to maximize the WTF written across her forehead.

"Claire-bear. You don't do orgasms? Ever? With anyone?" Her face changes to one of sympathy, gently patting the hand whose wrist she holds. "You gotta bust a few out and live a little, girl."

A few more steps, dragging the redhead, and they are back at the bar, this time in a different spot. It's slightly more secluded, at one end of it, where bar meets wall and there's not nearly as many people around. The blonde is waving down the bartender again, sliding over her credit card to open a tab. At least her jacket hasn't been stolen! Still on the stool where she left it.

Sarah fans herself with one hand, thanking being in a small town for small favors. Two more Rum & Cokes appear moments later. The detective picks them both up, one in each hand, before turning and, while drinking from hers, pressing the other one into the dispatcher's hand.

"Okay, so you're a fucking wizard, and I might be one, too. Also, people are getting snatched into Dimension X, tortured and killed by something called a goddamned dolorphage. This fucking town is ground zero for bizarre shit, and I have no idea what to do about any of it."

She side-eyes the redhead next to her, reaching over to lay a hand on the back of her hip, lightly running her nails across bare skin, just gently enough not to leave red lines. "That about sum up where we are?"

At first, Claire has no idea what spins Sarah around on her heel with that expression. Her smile melts away. "What?" Sarah's next words quickly bring forth the laughter once more. So much laughter. Laughter so that it looks like Claire might just sit down right there on the floor. "No no no, Sarah. No I --" More laughter. Tears fill her eyes with the mirth of it. "I definitely do orgasms. I just don't make them happen --" She points back to the dance floor. "-- with my massages. I mean... well, I'm sure I probably could, but that wasn't the point. Seriously, Sarah. The first time I did that was to Carter." Finally a bit of a blush touches the young woman's face. Clearly the thought of it has occurred to her over the course of this conversation. "That wouldn't really be the reason I gave him a massage in the first place. Not -- he was all tense and stressed." She fishmouths and holds up her hands in surrender. Then she starts giggling.

Back to the bar. "You don't have to buy me drinks, Sarah." Claire has enough money in her pocket for one more drink. But she's not sharing her financial state. Besides, her job starts this next week and then there will be a paycheck. Claire lifts a hand to wipe some of the perspiration from her forehead and wipes her palm on the front of her black shorts. "What I did? That? I'm no wizard. If anything you using your brain was the bigger deal. By ... a long shot." Sarah loses Claire with the 'dolorphage': "Like, Dolores plus orphanage?" She looks entirely startled. "Another dimension?" She grins. "Now you're just making things up." The touch to her bare skin startles Claire. The redhead flickers a glance down and back up again and clears her throat. Nothing to see here. "I -- have no fucking idea where we are, Sarah."

"That's a relief." Sarah shakes her head with a small, scoffing bit of laughter, one that leaves but half of a smile on her lips. "Because I was really worried for you there for a minute." Carter comes up, at the same time, in the same conversation, as orgasms. The blonde squints, doing her best to suppress her smile at the uncomfortable redhead as she bobs that mouth open and closed before surrendering.

"Hey, I don't judge alternative lifestyles. It's clear you and your brother have a very special relationship." It's laid on with an over-exaggerated wink. Her mouth is open in a bright grin, she turns her head a little to the side, and does the most obvious over-wink possible.

"But if you ever want to open up a Holistic Massage studio, I would definitely be your first customer. That was fucking great." She flicks a hand through the air, as if shooing away the notion that what she did was anything at all. "I'm still not even sure I did anything. Maybe it was just the power of positive transference. I read about that in a yoga book." It was a yoga website, but 'book' sounds smarter.

"Look, I don't know about the dolores oranges or Dimension X. I know what I've been told, and given what I've seen, I'm not saying I believe it... but I'm keeping an open mind. That's really all I can do at this point. It seems ludicrously impossible, but what the Hell else do I have to go on? Three days ago, I would have laughed at the idea."

She runs her nails lightly up Claire's spine again, then pats her on the flat of her back. "I don't know anymore. World's going crazy. Or maybe I am. Let's drink these and hit the floor again. I'm suddenly feeling... energized."