Off The Record Ch. 01

Hi, Everyone! Apologies for the very long hiatus. I do plan on eventually getting back to the Hot Set chapters for those of you who followed Alex and Meghan's story, but for now I'm starting something new here - something that I plan on spending a little more time on. The general trope is forbidden romance between two women who get off to a steamy start before unforeseen circumstances bring it all to a screeching halt. It will be told from duel perspectives with each chapter alternating between the two leads.

Let me know what you think :)

Disclaimer - all characters are over 18.

***

Harper looked up at the brilliant neon sign of the Lavender nightclub, each separate color of the rainbow that arched over the club's name lighting up one at a time before the vibrant band of color flashed brightly three times in all its glory before resetting in its cycle.

The design of the logo was clever, with the long tail of the "L" in its elegant script curving below the rest of the word before expanding to connect to the end of the rainbow. Harper pulled her phone out of her bag and snapped a quick photo of it, sure she would reference it in some way in her article. Maybe even use it as a cover photo for the story.

A man bumped into her from behind, mumbling a quick apology as he turned back to his friends.

The suffocating mid-September heat and humidity of the city was only made worse by the mass of bodies pressing in around her. Women in their cocktail dresses and fishnet tights, voices rising in excited anticipation of a night spent dancing and drinking. Men in their chino shorts and polos, more subdued but vibrating with energy just the same.

And then there was Harper, clutching her workbag to her side, sticking out like a sore thumb in her modest dress while the line inched forward at a snail's pace.

Normally, she would have loved to enjoy a night out at a place like this. But her brain was set firmly in professional work mode, and all she could think about was getting inside as fast as possible for her ritualistic last-minute interview prep. She still needed to go over her questions, make sure her recording app was ready to go, and settle her nerves. She was already later than she had planned on being, and she was on edge.

Sure, she had conducted hundreds of interviews over the course of her career, but this one was important and had the potential to be incredibly impactful.

She'd had to push her editor to let her do the piece on the club that was rapidly gaining a reputation as the most popular LGBTQ+ club in New York City, despite only having been open for less than three months.

It was only after Harper had bribed her with several iced coffees and more than one impassioned speech about how female-owned businesses needed any and all the publicity they could get in this city that Erin had finally given in, rolling her eyes as she'd told her to just go ahead and write it already. But Harper knew that the eyeroll was for show, and that Erin loved everything Harper put on her desk.

But as Harper stood there, feeling the heat and inhaling the stagnant stench of cigarettes and booze in the late-night air, Harper was beginning to wonder if her enthusiasm had been misplaced.

After what felt like an eternity, Harper made it to the front of the line. She took a moment to breathe in the fresh air that wasn't polluted by the perfumes and colognes of dozens of strangers before she stepped up to the front doors.

She leaned in so that the bouncer could hear her over the thrum of the crowd. "Hi," she offered him a smile. "I'm supposed to be interviewing the owner tonight. She said she'd put me on the list. Harper Cassidy?"

The heavily muscled man scanned the sheet on his clipboard before looking up and smiling back at her. "We've got you right here. Go on in."

"Thank you," she said, not quite sure what to expect as she walked through the curtained archway that led into the club.

Immediately, Harper's senses were assaulted from every direction.

The dance floor was clearly the most heavily populated area in the club; disorienting strobe lights of every color flashed across her vision as she picked her way along the outskirts of the throng of grinding bodies, feeling the heavy bass of the DJ's set reverberating through her feet and up into her chest.

Turning the corner, she spotted an empty stool at the corner of the well-stocked bar and beelined for it.

Catching the bartender's attention, she asked, "Would I be able to get a glass of water, please?"

It was much quieter at the bar, and Harper made friendly conversation with the bartender, whose name she learned was Cole, as she pulled her laptop and notebook out to begin sorting through her jumbled thoughts.

Cole raised an eyebrow at her ridiculous setup, and Harper offered a brief summary of the story she planned on writing and how she had a meeting with Alyssa, the owner and manager of Lavender, in about an hour.

Over the course of the next thirty minutes, Harper finalized her interview, tweaking the wording of her questions here and there. More than once, she had to decline company or a drink sent to her from a stranger. She'd lost track of the number of young men and women she'd had to send away with gentle rejections, a small army of unwanted drinks collected on the bartop. Every time she pushed yet another glass away from her, she gave Cole an apologetic smile, both for the wasted liquor and time spent making them. She would give him a good tip before she left.

Harper bit the end of her pen and drummed her fingertips along the bartop as she read through her questions again.

When did you decide to start your own business?

Do you feel that being a woman has impacted your entrepreneurial success?

What has been the biggest challenge in managing a business in one of the most demanding nightlife cities in America?

Her eyes moved rapidly down the page as she compared her mental checklist to her physical one. In the age of modern technology, many journalists preferred to simply record interviews and then revisit the audio when they sat down to write the story. Harper recorded all of her interviews, but she also liked to maintain a hard copy of the highlights of her conversations. She found that it kept her more engaged with her subjects, and taking notes while they spoke usually led Harper to ask more questions that she hadn't previously considered.

Check, check, check.

She nodded to herself, taking a sip of her water. She'd wrap up the piece by asking her if she had any new business ventures on the horizon and if she had any advice for women who were interested in becoming business owners and then call it a night.

"Rough day?" A feminine voice from Harper's right cut through her work-obsessed thoughts. She blinked and looked up to find an attractive young woman standing at her elbow. She was so close that Harper had to lean back a little on the barstool to make eye contact with her. Even sitting, Harper could tell that she was tall, probably at least three or four inches taller than Harper's own five-foot-five frame.

Harper exhaled as she was able to really take the woman in, realizing that her initial impression of her was inaccurate. She wasn't simply attractive; she was stunning. Her thick, dark hair fell in waves past her shoulders as she cocked her head at Harper with one perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised in question. Smoky eyes that were such a deep blue they were bordering on indigo stared into her own, a playful smile curving her pink full lips.

She was undoubtedly the most gorgeous woman Harper had ever seen in her life.

Harper opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out.

At her silence, the woman's smile grew, flicking those ocean blue eyes toward the collection of glasses sitting untouched on the bar in front of her.

Harper followed the woman's gaze and finally found her voice. "Oh, those aren't mine," she said, embarrassment rushing through her for some reason. The woman narrowed her eyes. "Well, I mean technically, I guess they are. But I didn't order them." Harper shook her head, flustered. God, she sounded like an idiot.

The woman leaned her hip against the bar while she looked at Harper, amusement and sheer curiosity painted all over her expression. Harper noticed just how curvy that hip looked in her form-fitting navy blue dress. She was close enough to smell her perfume, a soft and sweet jasmine scent that made it difficult to focus.

"I know," she drawled. "I've been sitting over there," she pointed behind them, "watching you cut down about a dozen hopeless romantics at the knees." The woman smirked at her. "Such a ruthless heartbreaker."

At this, Harper narrowed her eyes and felt the corners of her lips lift at the corners. "I think a dozen is a bit of an exaggeration."

"Four men and five women since I've noticed you." She held up nine long fingers for emphasis. "Close enough."

"Uh huh," Harper said, biting her lower lip. Her breath caught when she saw the woman follow the movement with those gorgeous eyes. "Does it still count as nine if the men never actually had a chance?" Harper gave her a flirty smile.

The woman threw her a lopsided grin, showing off a set of straight teeth and a cute little dimple in her cheek. "Sounds like a technicality to me," she said as she leaned back and ran her eyes over Harper slowly. Harper felt her cheeks burn as their eyes locked again.

"I realize that the odds aren't exactly in my favor," the woman continued, smiling coyly, "but I'd never forgive myself if I didn't at least talk to you." Her tone suggested that this should be obvious. "And besides, all of your admirers made the same mistake," she said simply, shrugging.

"Oh yeah?" Harper asked. She closed her notebook and smiled up at her. "And what might that be?"

The confidence rolling off of this woman was astounding, and Harper fucking loved it. Bold women were her kryptonite, and despite being here for work, she couldn't help but entertain the conversation.

The woman smirked down at the notebook, clearly satisfied with herself for successfully capturing Harper's full attention. She said, "Well, you're obviously here for a reason other than simply to have a good time." She gestured at the spread of paperwork in front of them. Her eyes slid over Harper again, but the look in her eyes was observant rather than flirtatious. "Don't get me wrong, you look amazing," she winked, "but you're dressed for work, not a night out. I love this dress, by the way." Her hand snaked out and ran down Harper's forearm, her warmth seeping through the silky material.

Those enticing blue eyes glittered as she continued. "You're either waiting for a client, or you came here to focus on your work, but I'd bet it's the former. This place isn't exactly quiet." As if to emphasize her point, a loud cheer broke out across the room.

"There are definitely a lot of distractions here," Harper cut in, letting her eyes drift down to the woman's legs before raising a provocative eyebrow at her.

The woman's smile widened in pleasant surprise at Harper's flirting. She continued, "So, if you're waiting for a client, you need to keep your wits about you. And the poor souls who came before me decided to buy you drinks with some of the highest alcohol content imaginable."

Harper looked over at the two shots of vodka, the Long Island iced tea, and the martini that remained untouched in front of her. Okay, so maybe she was right.

"Kind of insane that they didn't even ask you what you would have preferred to drink." She shook her head. "But, with all that being said, can I buy you something non-alcoholic? Or something that won't have you under the table by the end of the night?" The woman flashed her a brilliant smile that made Harper's stomach flip over on itself.

She let out a defeated sigh, already knowing that she was going to say yes. But she made a show of glancing at her watch as she said, "I have about twenty minutes before my contact gets here." She paused. "I wouldn't mind a beer." Harper inclined her head toward the empty stool next to her.

The woman's smile morphed into a victorious grin, all perfect white teeth and full lips.

"I'm Morgan," the woman said, extending her hand as she sat down.

"Harper," she said, reaching out and shaking her hand, reveling in the softness of her skin.

They each ordered something on tap and Harper took a sip before turning to Morgan.

Harper tilted her head at her. "Not to take anything away from your very impressive deductive reasoning skills, Sherlock, but I think you overlooked one very simple difference between yourself and the others."

"Unlikely, but I'm listening," Morgan shot back.

Harper fought the urge to roll her eyes good-naturedly at her arrogance. Really, she admired it. Envied that level of confidence.

Surprising herself more than anyone, Harper reached out and took Morgan's chin between her thumb and index finger, drawing her face within inches of her own. Those blue eyes glimmered with a combination of shock and interest.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I'm just significantly more attracted to you than I was to the people who bought me those drinks?" Harper asked quietly.

For the first time since she'd approached her, Harper saw Morgan's seemingly unshakeable poise falter as she felt her sharp exhale of breath against her cheek. Harper dropped her gaze to those lips, which were parted in surprise, before dragging her eyes back to Morgan's.

Harper's breath caught in her throat as Morgan's hand landed on the inside of her knee, her thumb brushing slowly over her sensitive bare skin. Long fingers stretched upward, reaching about halfway up her inner thigh before her nails scratched gently down Harper's leg.

Jesus Christ.

"Here I am, trying to use my intellect to impress the woman who brought her home office to the bar with her and the whole time I could have just smiled and fluttered my eyelashes at you." The rich, low tone of Morgan's voice combined with the pressure of her hand sent a dizzying wave of desire through Harper.

"Although," Morgan continued. "I guess that's sort of hypocritical of me, considering these legs were what caught my attention first." She squeezed Harper's thigh, her nails biting into her ever so slightly, just enough for Harper to feel her.

"Is that so?" Harper asked quietly.

"Alyssa is ready for you, darling."

Mild annoyance at the interruption flashed through Harper, but the voice pulled her back to reality. All of a sudden she was back in the club, not in the simmering bubble of heat and tension that seemed to have formed around her and Morgan, separating them from everyone else.

She blinked, slightly disoriented. Right. The interview.

Harper flicked her eyes to Cole and then back to Morgan. "I guess that's my cue," she said, disappointment rippling through her.

But Morgan smiled at her. "Damn." She leaned back, the warmth of her hand leaving Harper's thigh. "I'm not sure who Alyssa is, but I've never been more jealous of a complete stranger before." That dimple appeared again. She nodded toward the notebook. "Do me a favor and add something to your list of questions for me."

Harper raised her eyebrows, endlessly amused by her. She gestured for Morgan to continue.

"Ask her how she managed to get a private audience with you while the rest of us have to fight for your attention," she said, winking.

Harper let out a soft chuckle. "Will do."

"I'll let you get to it, then."

Harper felt her body temperature rise about one hundred degrees at the look Morgan gave her as she stood up from the stool with a practiced grace and wrapped a delicate hand around her pint glass to take it with her.

In a movement so smooth, Harper couldn't have prepared herself for it if she'd tried, Morgan leaned down and brushed Harper's hair back behind her ear before whispering, "I'll be in the booth in the corner when you're done."

Goosebumps rose on the back of Harper's neck, and the eye contact as she pulled back was blistering. Morgan's gaze flickered down to Harper's mouth for a brief moment before she turned and walked away.

Harper exhaled heavily. Goddamn.

"I can tell Alyssa you're busy," Cole said with a knowing smirk. He fanned himself dramatically with his hand. "She would understand." They both admired Morgan's perfect ass as she sauntered through the club, her mere presence turning heads from every direction. "And if I was into women, I definitely would not be letting that one slip away."

Morgan caught her eye when she settled into the booth, throwing her another wink and a slow smile.

Harper forced herself to look away from her. She groaned inwardly. "I shouldn't keep Alyssa waiting." More like she didn't want to keep Morgan waiting.

This was about to be the fastest interview of her career.

***

Thirty minutes later, Harper lifted her head from her notebook and offered Alyssa a bright smile. "Alright, I think that covers everything I wanted to ask you. Is there anything else you'd like me to include that I didn't touch on?"

Alyssa's warm brown eyes met hers as she smiled. "I think you hit just about every point I had in mind, sweetheart." She stood and Harper followed suit, gathering her things. "I have to admit though," she continued with a coy smile, "I'm a little disappointed that not a single one of those questions was if you could use my number in the future for more personal pursuits."

Harper blinked at her, taken aback. "Oh," she said quietly, "I didn't realize-"

But Alyssa waved off what would have undoubtedly become an embarrassing ramble. "I couldn't resist flirting at least a little bit. Not when you look like that in that dress."

Harper laughed nervously, shifting her bag on her shoulder. She was flattered by all of the attention she'd gotten tonight, but her mind was preoccupied with one brunette in particular.

Leading her to the door, Alyssa ran a hand through her short blonde hair. "Well, darling, it was nice to meet you. You're permanently at the top of my VIP list." She gave Harper an appreciative once-over and leaned in conspiratorially. "And if things don't work out with that goddess you were flirting with out there, feel free to come and see me anytime." The corner of her mouth twitched upward into a suggestive smirk as she threw her one last wink.

"Thank you for the interview," Harper said, extending her hand. "This place is amazing, and I hope the article is everything you're hoping for."

Alyssa took her hand in both of hers, a warm smile crossing her face. "I have every confidence that it will be." She tilted her head toward the pulse of the club beyond the office door. "Now, go get her."

Harper felt herself flush even as a thrill shot through her. Walking toward the bar and the booths beyond, she was stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Morgan exactly where she said she would be, her eyes already locked onto Harper like a lioness stalking her prey.

Harper walked over to her, taking in the two freshly poured glasses of beer in front of her.

"Were you expecting someone?" Harper asked, feigning confusion.

The corner of Morgan's mouth curved upward. "She's funny too." She pushed the drink toward Harper, a silent invitation.

The booth was one of those plush velvet ones set in a semicircle, the deep blue upholstery blending with the color of Morgan's dress. She'd seated herself right in the middle, like a queen awaiting her subjects. Harper scooted her way in until she was next to her.

Morgan propped her arm on the back of the booth as she turned to face Harper. She rested her head on her hand and graced Harper with an unfairly beautiful smile.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi." Harper leaned back into the soft cushions with a sigh.

"How did your meeting with the head of the CIA go?" Morgan asked, a very serious expression on her face.

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