Le Francais Pt 05

====================================

Le Français is an original Law Enforcement series playing with the Cop/Not-a-Cop trope, mixed with some social power play, and (hopefully) realistic BDSM elements. The series will jump between categories based on the content of each part. This series is commissioned by the fantastic ThL!

In this chapter you can expect flirting, mild submissive exhibitionism, and oral.

Sinead almost blows her cover, Marc finalizes a deal.

====================================

Chapter 29

Sinead woke up with a start as the ringing and buzzing of her phone vibrated on her desk. She grunted and wiped at her mouth, blinking as she looked around.

The Financial Forensics division office was empty. Not that it was hard to get there, considering there were still only three of them working it, but Sinead still felt embarrassed about falling asleep at her desk. A glance at her phone showed it was past 8 PM, and Jules was calling.

"Hello?" Sinead answered and then wiped at her mouth again. Her desk was an absolute mess of papers since she'd been trying to find herself

any

lead before Marc texted that he'd come through on his end. She needed a reason to not go meet him, and it wasn't working.

"Girl, did I just wake you up?" Jules asked. "You sound like shit."

"Yeah, well... yeah," Sinead sighed. "Look, if this is about the date with Connor..."

"Wait, what about the date with Connor?" Jules asked. "As far as you both told me, it went 'fine' and he liked you. Did he get weird over texts or something? Please tell me he didn't send you a dick pic."

"No, no," Sinead said. "It's nothing. And it

was

nice."

"Just

nice

though," Jules said. "Then I guess you didn't fuck?"

"It's kind of weird talking to you about-"

"Oh, please," Jules scoffed.

"No, we didn't fuck," Sinead said. "He was fuckable, but not fuck-worthy."

"So he

did

send you a dick pic?"

"No," Sinead said. "He just... he talked about his ex as soon as we got in the car, and he was weird about me being a cop, and the only thing he liked talking about was himself and being a doctor."

"Oh no, poor you," Jules said. "You had to listen to a hot doctor talking about saving lives in the ER."

"Shut up," Sinead said.

"Fine. I wasn't calling about your Chastity Belt of a date anyway. I wanted to let you know that we're keeping an eye on some possible mob bosses. Full surveillance and everything.

Real

mob bosses."

"Wow," Sinead said. "Low blow."

Jules snorted softly. "Sorry, I couldn't resist. Nothing about

Le Français

if that helps. But someone

did

come up on our radar. Guess whose name popped out on one of our phone record searches?"

"Jimmy Hoffa?" Sinead asked.

"Harrharrharr, bitch," Jules said sarcastically. "Stop being a sore loser. This one is bound to cheer you up."

"Just tell me then," Sinead said.

"One person-of-interest Victor Berisha, suspected fixer and potential ringleader of a dozen different crimes, had what seems to have been a series of business calls with a former person-of-interest of yours."

"Who?" Sinead asked.

"God, sometimes you're thick, babe," Jules laughed.

"Just tell me the fucking name, Jules," Sinead sighed. "I'm too tired for this shit."

"Fornier!" Jules crowed. "That froggy fuck who danced out of our interrogation. They know each other. Maybe you were close to the mark after all!"

Sinead let her head fall forward and

thunk

against her desk.

"I'm thinking of hauling him back in here for some more grilling. It's not like finance guys have privilege with their clients, right? You want in on this? I'm sure we could figure out how to get you in the room."

"Don't!" Sinead grunted, sitting back up. "Don't bring him in."

"What?" Jules asked. "Why?"

"Look, I'll explain," Sinead said. "Just... don't bring him in until I do, OK? I'll explain tomorrow. Dinner at my place. This is an in-person conversation."

"Sinead..."

"Seven o'clock, my place," Sinead said. "Please, Jules."

"Fine," Jules said. "For you, I'll push it back. But you better not be jerking me around here."

"I'm not," Sinead promised. "My place at seven."

- - - - -

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Sinead mumbled to herself. She'd put off calling him until she got home. Now she was pacing in her living room, her legs feeling stiff.

"

Bonsoir

, Detective," Marc answered. "This call is coming late. Is everything alright?"

"Yes," Sinead said, hating the fact that her knees went a little weak when he immediately asked if she was OK. "No, actually, it's not. But it will be. I need you to be at my place tomorrow at seven for dinner."

There was a moment of quiet over the phone. "Ma petite rebelle, I have a busy calendar and I do not yet have what I promised. If this dinner is about business, well,

je ne vais tout simplement pas pouvoir accéder à ta demande

. But if this is about pleasure, I may be able to work something out. Of course, between us, pleasure and business, they go together,

n'est-ce pas

?"

"Marc, just shut up," Sinead hissed softly. "Please. Just... be here for seven, OK?"

After another moment of silence, which made Sinead regret her tone, he spoke again, his voice unchanged. "What will we be having for dinner?"

"I'll cook something," Sinead said, gesturing with her free hand as she looked at her kitchen. Her messy, lacking-in-ingredients kitchen. She'd been eating takeaway way too much recently and groceries were few and far between.

"Not haggis, I hope," Marc teased her, and she could practically

see

his fucking smile.

"My family is from Ireland, not Scotland, you French ass," Sinead said.

"My mistake.

Peu importe en fait, tout le monde sait de quel côté de la Manche la cuisine est devenu un art...

"

"Meaning what?"

"Fish, or Meat?" Marc asked. "For the wine,

ma petite rebelle

. I need to know what we'll be eating to match the wine to it."

Sinead sighed and stifled a groan.

Chapter 30

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Sinead muttered to herself, rushing around in her apartment as she danced from the kitchen to the table to her bedroom, trying to get everything ready at once.

She'd taken the afternoon off, not that anyone seemed to care. Part of her wondered if she could even consider the dinner as working hours since she was liaising on a case. It was weird, not having a Captain breathing down her neck about cases, not caring how she dressed or what she was doing. It was like she'd fallen down the cracks of the Toronto police force and could just... do nothing, if she wanted.

This dinner was the opposite.

"Why the fuck didn't I just make a fucking stew or something?" she growled to herself as she threw another outfit back into her closet and tried to figure out what else she could wear. She'd had people over for dinner before, and if it was just Jules then she wouldn't care what she was wearing, but this felt more like a dinner

party

with Marc coming too and so she cared.

Shirtless, she darted back into the kitchen and slid across the linoleum in her socks to douse the slowly simmering steaks with more butter from the pan. They weren't the amazing cuts of meat that she imagined Marc would get, but she was damn sure she was going to wow the both of them.

Back to the table, she straightened the third place setting, making sure the steak knives were clean before setting them out, then she went back into the bedroom when she heard the knock at the door.

"Shit!" Sinead grunted, pulling a simple black knit sweater down from a hanger and pulling it on. Black was fancy-ish, right?

Sinead went to the door, peeking through the little peephole to see it was Jules, and she opened the door as she was still straightening her sweater. "Hey, come on in," she said.

"Hey, babe," Jules said. She must have gone home after work and changed since she wasn't in her slacks and button down blouse. Instead, she was wearing a long T-shirt with a pop art graphic face on the front and a pair of leggings.

Fuck

, Sinead thought. She hadn't exactly given Jules the heads up that it wasn't going to be the two of them either, so she was dressed down.

"Whoa, what's that smell?" Jules asked as she shrugged off her coat and started taking off her boots.

"Steak, roasted potatoes. Bacon-wrapped asparagus," Sinead grunted, heading back into the kitchen.

"You're making me steak?" Jules asked. "Damn, and here I was expecting some Pad Thai tonight or something."

"Yeah, well, I can be domestic when I feel like it," Sinead said, spooning more butter onto the steaks before peeking into the oven to check on the potatoes.

"I can see that," Jules said, coming into the kitchen and leaning against the counter. "I think this is the cleanest I've seen your place since you moved in."

"Hmm, so funny," Sinead shot at Jules with a smarmy grin.

"What's with the third place setting?" Jules asked.

There was a knock at the door.

"Please tell me you're not getting me back by setting me up with someone," Jules said.

"Nope, this is business," Sinead grunted. "Here, keep spooning the butter onto the meat." She left Jules to it and went to the door, stopping out of her friend's view and quickly touching up her hair and straightening her sweater again in the little mirror in the front vestibule area. She bit her lip and adjusted the silver necklace. The one that Marc had given her. She never got to wear it, and in the middle of trying on outfits, she'd put it on and hadn't taken it off. Now she wondered if it was going to send the wrong message or something.

Sinead opened the door. "Come in," she said.

"Bonsoir, Detective," Marc said with that fucking smile of his, handing Sinead a small bouquet of three orchids and showing he had a bag with a couple of bottles of wine in his other hand. "

Merci de ton invitation.

"

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Jules asked from behind Sinead.

Sinead turned, gritting her teeth in an awkward, toothy smile, as she turned to Jules. "I can explain."

Jules was gesturing with the spoon, staring down Sinead and Marc. "I fucking hope you can," she said.

Sinead took the wine from Marc, and the spoon from Jules, and ushered them both over to the table before rushing back into the kitchen and pulling the steaks from the pan, and turning down the oven to keep the potatoes and asparagus warm.

"OK, the meat just needs to rest," she said, coming back to the table.

"Really?" Jules asked. "The meat needs to rest? That's all that's going on?"

"I'm explaining, I'm explaining," Sinead said, shooting a glance at Marc and hoping he went along with things. She'd rehearsed this in her head a thousand times since the night before, and she still felt like Jules was going to poke holes in it and guess what was really going on. "In the course of my investigations into

Le Français

, I ran up against some walls in terms of analytical know-how. And since the case led me to Mr Fornier at one point, I realised that his particular expertise would be helpful. But the chances of me being able to bring him on as a contractor were super low, considering his hourly rates, so I sort of... asked him for a favour. Pro bono. He's broken open some complex files for me, and then he kind of went undercover with me when I was staking out Victor Berisha."

Jules was staring daggers at her. Marc, on the other hand, had a hint of that fucking smile on his lips.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Sinead?" Jules asked, looking from her to Marc. "You took a civilian, a former

person-of-interest

, undercover and off the books? Is this why he showed up on our radar?"

"Almost definitely?" Sinead squeaked, smiling apologetically.

"You've got to be

shitting me

," Jules grunted. Then she exhaled heavily and stared at Sinead again. "Well? That better be a damn good steak because we've got some shit to talk about."

Chapter 31

Marc wasn't sure whether he was slightly tickled at the awkwardness of the dinner, or a little annoyed. Of course, he acted the polite guest and gave Sinead her due compliments on the dinner - the steak

was

good, and the potatoes were nice and crisp, but the bacon around the asparagus had gone a little tough. Both of the women also seemed to relax a great deal once the wine was uncorked. Jules in particular raised her eyebrows at the first sip.

Marc sat back for the beginning of the meal, letting Sinead weave her little tale of partnering with him. He noticed that she didn't tell any overt lies to her former partner, and apparently very good friend, but she understandably downplayed the arrangement as a whole. By the time Jules seemed mollified, Marc was helpfully offering his own insights into what they had discovered so far.

"Alright, fine," Jules finally said, gesturing with her steak knife in a concerningly cavalier way considering how sharp it was. "I'll make this whole thing disappear in the background, at least for as long as I can.

But

, I have a serious question."

"What?" Sinead asked.

"Are you two fucking?"

Marc chuckled softly, but the look in Sinead's eyes of momentary panic concerned him. Moreover, he was annoyed by her response.

"Are you kidding me?" Sinead asked. "This, us two? That wouldn't

ever

work. Way too different, and it would be super weird. Seriously, I'd rather go on a date with your cousin again."

Marc clenched his teeth, just once, and then smiled. "

Pardon

, Detective, but I can assure you that the Detective and I have not engaged in sexual intercourse."

"I had to ask," Jules said with a shrug.

If Marc didn't like how Sinead had reacted in the moment, he really didn't like her satisfied sigh at having pulled one over on Jules at the expense of Marc's ego. She seemed to have forgotten who exactly was wielding the leverage and power between them, which meant a lesson was in order.

"Detective, I was wondering what your ancestry is?" Marc asked Jules. "Usually I am fairly astute at identifying Asian heritage, but your striking features illude me."

"Please, drop the Detective crap," Jules said. "I'm off duty. Just call me Jules. And my family is Japanese-Canadian."

"

日本に旅行したことがありますか

?" Marc asked.

Jules' eyes widened a little, and Sinead's jaw dropped. "I'm sorry, I'm

very

rusty at Japanese," Jules said. "Did you ask if I've travelled there?"

"I did," Marc said. "And it was likely my accent. I've done business with some Japanese firms and dabbled on Rosetta Stone, but I'm certainly not conversationally fluent."

"I should probably hop on that myself," Jules sighed. "My parents have been bothering me to take a vacation and go back with them to see extended family. Have you been?"

Marc put on a charm offensive. He had been, twice, though hadn't been able to explore nearly as much as he would have liked. He talked about the streets of Tokyo, and some of the interesting restaurants he'd eaten at. That led to talking about travel in general and he really took control of the conversation. And he could tell that, at first, Sinead was just happy things were going well and that she wasn't in deep shit with Jules.

But then Sinead started to notice other things. Her eyes widened a little when Jules touched Marc's arm. She noticed that he was paying most of his attention to Jules. Her eyes lingered when Marc took Jules' hand and traced a map on it, describing the time that he was diving around a wreck in the Mediterranean.

The first bottle of wine disappeared, and Sinead poured herself a large glass from the second. She suggested they move to her little living area to relax, but Marc insisted that he help by cleaning up, and Jules agreed, and soon the three of them were in the kitchen together washing dishes.

That was when Sinead's jealousy started to really rise, and Marc grinned internally as the booze shed some of her inhibitions.

Sinead became touchy and flirty. She reached around him, brushing her front against his back. She touched his lower back, and even his ass briefly. She giggled at anything that had a semblance of a punchline to it and played with her hair more. And Sinead wasn't the only one, Jules was certainly flirting back lightly with him as well as he paid her attention, spurning Sinead.

Finally, with the kitchen clean, Marc poured the last of the second bottle of wine he had brought for them both and got them sitting down on the couch.

"

Mes excuses

, ladies, but unfortunately I cannot extend this lovely evening any longer," Marc said with a real sigh. "You are both wonderful company, and I regret that I have a very busy day tomorrow. Unfortunately, I must take my leave."

They both made the polite 'Oh, that's too bad' noises, and Jules stood and shook his hand with both of hers, then pulled him into a hug. "Thank you for looking out for her," she whispered in Marc's ear, then kissed his cheek. As she pulled away she winked at him as well.

"I'll walk you out," Sinead said, then turned to Jules. "Be right back."

Sinead lingered as Marc got his loafers on, collected his coat, and then followed him out into the hallway of the apartment building.

"What was that?" Sinead hissed quietly, not wanting to be heard by Jules or any of her neighbours.

"That was a lovely dinner,

ma petite rebelle

," Marc said quietly. "Thank you for inviting me."

"Not the dinner, the... the fucking flirting," she whispered.

Marc raised one eyebrow. "Is Jules seeing someone? Should I not have flirted with her?"

Sinead worked her jaw for a moment, trying to figure out what to say, and the spark of anger in her eyes was palpable.

"Shhh, Sinead," Marc said soothingly, taking her hand for a moment. It was the first time he had used her name all night, another little trick that had certainly been setting her on edge. "Now, show me."

"Show you?" Sinead asked, screwing up her face in confusion.

"You know," Marc said. "And don't deny it. You know what I expected the next time I saw you."

Sinead flushed a lovely pink that almost made her freckles disappear. "Not here."

"Exactly here," Marc said. "Unless you want to step back inside and show me in front of Jules."

Sinead swallowed, eyes darting up and down the empty hallway. "Shit," she muttered. Then she stepped forward, right against him, and took his hand and put it on her lower back before sliding it under the waistband of her black leggings. Marc felt his palm pass over her warm ass cheeks, directed by her hand on his, and her fingers directed his between the cheeks to feel the solid little base of the buttplug she had in.

"The necklace looks good on you," he said with a smile as he tapped lightly on the base of the plug. "

C'est bien, ma petite rebelle

. I will see you again soon when I have more news for you."

He left her there in the hallway. He wanted more, but he knew he was leaving her wanting even more than he did.

And he had another appointment for the evening. All Sinead had was awkward questions and frustration waiting for her in her apartment.

Chapter 32

As Marc closed the door to his apartment behind him, he sighed softly and smiled a little to himself. Leaving Sinead like that had been harder than he'd thought, but played right into his game with her. The fact that she'd had him feel the buttplug she was wearing, in a semi-public spot like the hallway outside her apartment, told him a lot about how things were progressing. The challenge she'd thrown down was another signal - that she denied him vehemently to her friend Jules, that she wasn't accepting what was happening between them yet, showed the game was still on.

Marc wondered if Sinead realised it was a game between the two of them or not. He knew she knew something was going on, but did she know how it ended, or was she still telling herself it was all for the good of the work?