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Out of all things Beverly should do, getting into bed with Freddie Lounds is probably not on that list.
But the woman is hot and she hasn't done too much nonsense in regards to her job yet, so it works like a charm. She sleeps with her, and it's good— Freddie's lips press against her own, the aftertaste of lipstick against her mouth. She's a little dizzy afterward, head against the pillow, and she makes out Freddie asking her questions she doesn't analyze too much in her post-orgasm stupor. She answers each and every one of them, and Freddie grins at her, toothy and smug, and leans in to press her hand between her thighs once again.
It's only when she sees the articles while trying to capture Stammets that it all falls into place. Her eyes wide and her jaw slack, she realizes why Freddie asked so much about her colleagues, about Price and Zeller, before slowly swerving toward the topic she really cared about — Will. She feels sick, knowing that she caused this, that this article is out there in the world because she let her know that her friend was kind of weird and that everyone knew he was kind of weird.
"A demented mind to catch another..." She sighs, and looks up at Jack. "She goes in a lot of detail."
Jack groans and slams his hand on the desk, making her jump a little. "Son of a bitch."
When they go over to Freddie's place, it's a blur of Jack yelling at her, and Freddie looking all too smug for her own good. It's only a matter of time before she gets in trouble like that, until something hits the fan and she gets arrested for defamation or something. But her smugness is awfully attractive, which Beverly hates to admit.
As everyone else leaves, Beverly stays behind to untie her from the zipties.
"You used me," she whispers against her ear. Freddie shivers against her, looks up and grins at her, all teeth.
"You'd do it again?" she offers.
"Won't tell you about Will again," she says as she cuts off the zipties, puts them in her pocket. "But sure."
"Well, the sex was pretty good."
Beverly pulls her into a kiss. It's soft and too sweet, even though a part of her is still mad at her for acting like this. "Don't talk about Will again."
"He does bring the clicks in," she drawls.
She huffs, rolls her eyes. "I'll come see you a while from now. I need to, uh, get things in order first. I've a job, and all that."
"Sure," Freddie says. Her smile is all smug again, and it's all too attractive. She laughs softly, like she knows exactly what she's doing to her. Her laughter echoes in her mind, reminds her of the giggles shared between them as they had sex a few nights before. (She must know what she's doing, right? She knows the effect she has on people. Like a siren luring in the seamen.)
God, Beverly can't resist the charm of an arrogant journalist. Freddie Lounds will be the death of her one day.