The Busted Burglar

Giselle Palmer and Kristen Scott swagger through the neighborhood like they own every inch of it. When they decide to play dress-up in bed, neither of them guessed where the afternoon would land. Outside, Giselle lurks in tight black, scanning for an entry point, already wet at the thought of what waits inside. The patio slider sits cracked open. She steps through silent as smoke. Kristen lounges on the sofa with a magazine, oblivious until Giselle’s hand clamps over her mouth. "Give it up," Giselle hisses. She drags Kristen down onto the rug and pins her there, wrists trapped above her head. Kristen’s breath catches—part fear, part thrill. Giselle pulls a silk scarf from her pocket and lashes Kristen’s arms to the coffee-table leg, slow and deliberate, forcing her legs apart with a knee. "You do what I say, or nothing happens." Kristen nods, already flushed, and Giselle peels off each piece of clothing like she’s unwrapping a gift she intends to keep. Across the street, Lexi Belle straightens her leather jacket and checks her cuffs in the mirror, ready for patrol. Dispatch crackles: possible break-in next door. Gun drawn, she edges inside and freezes at the sight on the rug. Giselle looks up, smirks, still straddling Kristen’s bare hips. "Officer," she purrs, tilting her chin. "Wouldn’t want to waste your time." She rises, moves to Lexi, fingers stroking the badge. "Or your handcuffs." Lexi weighs the situation for one heartbeat, then shuts the door behind her with a click. Three shadows stretch across the living-room floor, and somewhere between holster leather and bare skin, the crime scene turns into consent.