"Come on Jazz, I'm serious."
"Get out," the short black woman said, throwing her hands up.
"Why not?" Regina whined.
"You're serious." Jasmine said incredulously.
"Yes, I'm serious," the tall blonde earnestly replied.
'Dr. Ethridge to the ballistics lab, please' the PA announced, interrupting them.
Regina almost jumped out of her chair. She started for the exit to at a gallop, but halted and hurried back to the table.
"Sorry, Skolefi case. Just think about it will you?"
"I think you're off your nut."
"Damnit, enough insults. Seriously, just consider it. Please?"
"Get your ass to the lab. I'll see you after work," Jazz said dismissively.
The tall blonde frowned, but then hurried off.
Jasmine Carter sat and stared at what was left of her mostly unpalatable lunch. She was a short woman, thick but not fat, with a big ass and massive chest. Her skin was like burnished coal; so black it almost appeared blue at times. Intelligent brown eyes highlighted a face that even her mother would be hard pressed to call pretty. Her nose was flat, having been broken several times and her lips too wide. A long scar ran from her eye, across her cheek and down off her chin. A memento from the last domestic dispute she and her partner had answered. Her partner hadn't faired so well, they buried him three days later.
When it had healed, she had requested a transfer to the state crime lab, where her background in police methodology had combined with her love of science to make her one of the state's finest crime scene investigators. She had taken the long and painful way to get here, to what most considered a plumb job.
Her friend Regina Ethridge had taken the exact opposite route. She had graduated with a degree in microbiology, and minors in metallurgy, forensic science and criminal justice. The daughter of a decorated veteran, she had found no resistance to landing a job here right out of college. She was brilliant, intuitive and made up for her lack of street knowledge with boundless energy, tenacity and a mind that was like a sponge, absorbing all information and able to retrieve any of it at a moment's notice.
She also had movie star good looks and was extremely naïve. She was married to Steve Ethridge, a detective with APD. Jazz knew him vaguely, a charmer with good looks and a soft-spoken manner. She knew a lot more about Steve and Gina's sex life than she cared to, but that was natural with best friends. No doubt the tall blonde knew more about Jazz's private life than she was comfortable with at times. At least, that was what Jazz had always assumed.
Shaking her head, she got up and went to her office. A manila envelope sat on her desk and she opened it with a nail file, while checking her voice mail. The envelope contained eight by ten glossies of a crime scene. The girl in the photos had been shot twice in the chest, and the house had been ransacked. Local police thought it might be a robbery gone bad, but had decided to ask her to look it over. Jazz shoved Regina and her weirdness out of her mind and began going over the pictures and police report with a magnifying glass.
"You going to stay here all night?" Regina asked.
Jazz looked up suddenly, her face showing total confusion.
"Damnit, what time is it?" she asked.
It had happened again, it almost always did. She got so lost in what she was doing that she simply phased out and lost all track of time.
"It's five forty-five, silly," Regina said with a chuckle.
"I'll meet you down in the garage, just have to make a phone call," Jazz said, looking up the code and dialing it in.
"Gilespe? Yeah, Carter, state crime lab. Better grab the boyfriend, this isn't a robbery gone bad, it's a murder, pure and simple."
***
Regina was leaning on the hood of Jazz's 'vette, looking like an overdressed model for one of those cheap calendars that parts companies gave out to mechanics. Jazz hit the button on her key chain as she approached and Regina was already seated with her seat belt on before Jazz got in.
The short woman fired the engine up, drove slowly out of the garage and merged into traffic. As soon as she managed to get out of the heart of town she opened it up and just enjoyed the feeling of power the hot little car gave her. She rolled down the window and practically hung her head out.
"You're speeding again."
"Aww, get off my ass. If you can't handle a little adrenalin rush, catch a ride with someone else."
"Did you think about it?"
"Jeezzus H. Christ! I just got off work, give me a few minutes to wind down."
After a long silence Jazz finally had the images of the dead girl out of her head and rolled the window up.
"No. There's no fucking way," she declared.
"Oh come on Jazz, please?"
"Get a book or something."
"Damnit Jazz, you know that isn't going to help," Regina pouted.
"And I am? Earth to ditzy blonde, I'm a lesbian, I know fuck all about how top a guy," Jasmine said in exasperation.
"I know even less, but it's what Steve needs. He's been hinting for weeks, even bout me a crop and leather bustier."
Jazz had a girl, well, kinda, but the thought of the tall blonde in a leather bustier sent an electric thrill through her. They were best friends and all, but she would be lying to herself if she didn't admit she had dreamed of bedding Gina on more than one occasion.
Jazz sighed heavily, "You don't know what you're asking for."
"Yes I do, I just want you to teach me to be a top."
"What do you want me to do, bring you over and let you hide in the closet while me and Trish make out?" she snarled. It came out much harsher than she meant for it to and she immediately felt like a heel.
"Look baby," she began in a softer tone, "You don't just wake up one day and decide you're gonna be a domme. About the only way to learn to be a top, is to be topped by a good one. I haven't been part of the scene since I started working here. I don't even know a dom I trust to recommend you hook up with if you're dead set on this."
"I couldn't do that. It would be cheating."
