Title: THE STILLY NIGHT
Author: R Schultz ( cousindream@aol.com )
Fandoms: StarTrek, Xena, The Pretender
Code: F/F and so forth.
Rating: NC-17. You betch.
Summary: Once upon in a time in a land far far away called Kansas City, Missouri, there was this wondrous magical titty bar called "The Treasure Chest". In it danced a long-legged Beautiful Princess named Miss Parker. She was a Mother, had black hair, attitude, and a lean sexy body that seemed to promise men a happy way to die. Miss Parker has fallen in love! Once upon a time Miss Parker also spent her days and nights shaking her luscious booty and hoping a Handsome Prince would ride up in his Ferrari and take her away from all that. The reality, though, is a tad different. However, Miss Parker is ecstatic at the new direction her life has taken. But then Miss Parker gets a lot of ecstasy these days at the hands of her new lover. Literally. She still says "What?" too much.
First Disclaimer: Paramount owns "Trek". These greedy thieves do not deserve such a treasure, but Ba'al in his might and wisdom has given these wally's (including the Shrub in Washington)jewels on Earth. I need a couple of young virgins to pick up my spirits. Anyone got any looking just like Denise Richards (post boob job)? Ba'al is merciful. Non-virgins accepted. Would you young girls like to see my trusty Eternally Greedy Open Mouth of Perpetual Flames Of Ba'al work? My neighbors think my Temple of Moloch is just a fancy barbecue with frills. Ba'al is Sneaky. Ba'al gives me chicken in lemon sauce to barbecue in my Temple of Moloch. Praise Ba'al.
Second Disclaimer: "The Pretender" and its characters belong to Fox or MTM. I'm playing with the characters. Don't sue.
Third Disclaimer: MCA/Universal owns "Xena". Some heretics claim Gabrielle and Xena were just characters on the telly, but surely Ba'al would not be so cruel as to do that to us? Neither George Shrub nor Ba'al would ever lie to us, would they?
Legalities: This story is mine under Berne copyright, but it may be archived, when permission is granted. July, 2003.
Send all ego-boosting and critical comments to: cousindream@aol.com The NC-17 rating is for varied sex stuff that offends Fox News and other Shrubbery. Underage folk must not read this. Nor may those residing in a locale or country that says smut is illegal. In point of fact this is a lesbian love story. Deal with it.
by R. Schultz
It's hard to feel both proud and ashamed at the same time. Yet both emotions were clouding my thoughts.
Amy was happily presenting me with neatly organized sheaves of paper, showing the pretty near-stranger what she had accomplished in school since my last visit. She pressed close, and her bony arms and incredible warmth impinged on me constantly. The warmth especially moved me.
Her energy was what took my breath away, though. Mile a minute.
I sneaked another sniff of her young sweaty cleanliness, trying not to try to cram in too much all at once. I tried not to regret some of my choices.
It was safer for her if we lived separate. Mom, Sis, she could disappear into the woodwork here. Amy could disappear with her.
Jarod had found me, but lots of luck finding Amy and Catherine, I kept telling myself. I was in the Social Security base, I had a Driver's License, there were ways to find me through the matrix of information that is America today.
Around Mother, around my Amy was -- nothing.
In Kaskaskia everything was paid for in cash. Three years ago for three hundred dollars in fifties and a first class fuck Amy had been given a New Jersey birth certificate. She had another name in Kaskaskia. Mommy had the same name, supposedly.
And the tips at the Treasure Chest bought the cheap rental of this run-down tiny 0ne-bedroom house on the west slope of a little island town in Illinois.
Kaskaskia wasn't much. It had the old French fort, a plaque or two commemorating Clark's conquest during the Revolutionary War, and no jobs. Excepting a few connected with the traffic on the Mississippi. But it had cheap housing. Lots of it.
It was compact, and one could walk to everywhere on the island. It was a little town with little to recommend it, excepting an old brick school or two, and a lot of mosquitoes during the summer. And it was in a different state.
Necessity made our needs simple, and Sis somehow survived. Mom had left behind in Delaware a lot of money and Daddy. Her Daddy, my Daddy, our brothers. All records of herself or what she had been was in Delaware.
In Illinois she was not on the Welfare rolls. In Illinois she said she'd always made do, if anyone asked. In Kaskaskia Amy was HER daughter. On Polk Street she was the eccentric woman with no money and a lot of foolish pride. Gave good piano lessons cheap and did nice embroidering, and wasn't above baby-sitting or doing laundry. This particular woman played the pitiful little organ in St. Barbara's and accepted Church charity. This particular woman didn't have a car, nor a Driver's License. In the system she didn't even exist. In my system she was my center.
No more nice clothes or restaurant meals or cut flowers on the table. No more Cadillacs or an endless supply of bottles filled with liquor. No more listening to her Daddy screw their little girl in the other room. No more drunken self-pity.
One day at a time. That's what they told you at the Al-Anon meetings Mom went to. One day at a time.
All Sis had were memories and my daughter. Enough incentives to let her cope.
I'd told Sis that Deanna was a friend, a good friend. In our bed back in Kansas City, Deanna was my woman and my lover and my new hope. Last night she slept on a wheezy couch and Amy slept in my arms. Whenever I let myself dream of living with Deanna and creating a new home with my Mother and daughter included, I fiercely suppressed that fantasy.
Reality was this old house on an island in the Mississippi and no money. We will survive.
Amy was so proud. She was wearing her first bra, courtesy of Wal-Mart and a few surreptitious twenties Deanna forced into my hand. It was all I could do not to scream that Amy must never to let a male touch you.
A few young boys passed by, poor as sticks, and said hello to fellow classmate Amy. It was all I could do to refrain from yelling at them to leave my daughter alone.
Deanna offered to walk with Amy to the Mom And Pop for an ice cream bar out of the freezer. She left my faithful Oldsmobile sitting in the dirt street.
Upon my recommendation, Deanna had dressed cheap, so that she'd blend in. I'd never even known she had a pair of stomping boots, the ones with the faux-leather laces. My Blue Jeans were too narrow in the hip for her and too long, so she dug up a pair or three of casual Dockers with a few stains.
I'd had a big fancy closet, back in Delaware, with lots of good dresses and pants suits in it. To keep them, all I'd have had to do was not hear my daughter getting raped.
Deanna threw another layer of repellent on us all and began walking, with Amy managing to skip and jump in this humid heat. My heart broke to see her, my heart hardened with determination. Little Amy Wildman (once Parker) was with her half-aunt from Omaha, Deanna.
Right.
Sis joined me on the porch steps, drifting into Mother mode. I could tell somehow, even now. As I got older my dearest sister had gotten into Mother mode easier and easier, even when she was half tanked. Now that she stayed clean and sober, being a Mom was an almost permanent condition.
"What?" I asked.
"Deanna's a sweet lady," she opinioned. "She doesn't work at the club, does she?" Catherine Parker has her "I know something you don't know I know!" smile on.
I admitted that truth, wondering what was next.
"Have you been lovers long?"
Well, so much for that secret. I had searching for the moment to tell Sis.
"A few weeks. Six weeks. Am I that transparent?"
"I think Amy knows as well. Kids these days know all about gay men and lesbians and lots of things about sex. My neighbors worry about what the teachers might inadvertently reveal to their angelic kids. Parents are a bunch of innocents.
"The kids already know. Their kids know about sex and rubbers and lots of things. In a small rural town with crummy TV reception the kids find something else to indulge their curiosity about.
"Yeah, I think Amy suspects. She noticed last night how the two of you are always finding ways to touch."
Sis stared ahead, one hand patting mine. "Try to find what happiness you can out of life. This is your Mother speaking, not just your sister. Go for it."
If it hadn't been for the mosquitoes it'd have been a Golden Moment. Hell, it was Golden anyways.
I could see the thin steeple of a church up the hill. I wanted to stay in the Faith, but The Love That Dare Not Speak It's Name was nothing the Church could handle. We never stop making choices.
Amy brought a freeze-pop back for me and Sis. We broke it in half and each sucked on the sweet frozen water. Deanna said the owners of the little store spoke French, of a sorts. A lot of people did, here in Kaskaskia, even now. Centuries after the explorers. Centuries after the French were dispossessed from Arcadia in Canada and became Cajuns downstream in Louisiana. Even in homogenized America, even today you could find bastard French being spoken in this little town.
I contemplated the girl next to me, the woman to the side, and wondered what the hell was ever going to become of us all.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Deanna's hands enjoyed the roundness of my buttocks, I enjoyed the feel of belly to belly. Softness and muscle. Deanna still kissed like a child receiving her first communion. She kissed as if I were a benediction offered her by a gracious god. She kissed as if she were about to die and was given her last meal. She kissed warm and hard and soft and lingering and dizzy and searching. Especially searching. My stomach always butterfly-ed when she ran her hands on me.
The slow music played on the stereo, helping us drown out everything but each other. Upstairs Nicky Brown had probably burrowed underneath our bed covers. Just so he could leave cat dander in retaliation for us locking him in.
In here I tried not to expect our love to last. I wish upon a star tonight. I held Deanna too close and she whispered in my ear words of endurance.
"Hold tight, darling, and I'll hold tight in return. I'm not tired of you and this isn't a fling by the straight girl. Hold tight. I'm not leaving."
Actually since this was her house I was living in now, it'd be me who left.
I must not think these thoughts. I must not create a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Out in the Hot Tub was laughter. In the twilight inside there were just a few nearly naked women in bikinis dancing close and kissing. Fondling backsides and enjoying breasts impinging on another set of breasts.
"We should rejoin our guests," Deanna whispered at me.
"In a moment," I said. "I don't get much quality time with my girlfriend, and I'm enjoying it as hard as I can."
Deanna cupped my breasts through my skimpy top, keeping her belly tight to mine somehow. She squeezed them, biting them through the cloth. I was hyperventilating as her teeth nipped a neck muscle and then slid into lickings and kisses in my throat hollow. They were unbearable, so I moaned from the pain.
"I'm going to melt down if you keep that up." Of course she continued. "We have guests," I noted. Her tongue rediscovered my lips. Eventually I continued with; "Should we let them watch while you...?"
"Never," she replied. "The envy would drive them to self-destruction. Probably messy self-destruction. And the carpet in this room is new."
"We can let them watch out in the Hot Tub? Not so messy then."
Instead Deanna slid her hand down the front of my bikini bottom, the knuckles of her hand teasing my short-haired Mons. She adjusted her dancing stance and got serious with her hands.
I adored those fingers. Gliding over my skin she created electro-shock centers. In my groin they could make me fall to my knees. She ran her fingers over my clit bundle and chuckled at my groaning.
Deanna broke away, quickly heading towards the Hot Tub outdoors.
"Bring the camera, would you?"
Deanna eased into the tub between Beverly and Xena, and Gabrielle eased over Bev to give my woman a kiss.
I knew it was a moment I would treasure, so I shot half a dozen, no, ten, of the four beings, so compatible together. Everyone wore bikinis, everyone was just friends. However, even with a good tall fence we all knew we should do nothing in the open to jeopardize Deanna's relations with her neighbors.
The Love That Dared Not Speak It's Name.
I knew instantly when Xena's hands strayed, for Deanna jerked and looked intently at me. I mouthed the words that I loved her, and judged Deanna could defend herself. Bev giggled uproariously as Gabby did something by her side. I saw both redheads say something to each other, and in another wave of giggles Gabby relaxed into the bubbles and heat. Deanna blushed hotly, but Xena refrained from whatever she had been doing.
Kira swam over and positioned herself between Gabby and Beverly, but refrained from any nasty jealousy-inspired looks or harsh words.
For the moment, the golden moment, we were all happy, and pleased to be together.
Annika squeezed herself against Xena, and Janeway took the opportunity to fondle Gabby, her hands obviously busy beneath the water's surface. I went inside to insert a new roll of film. In, out, and suddenly Belle Anna was standing close. Uhura, in her modest one-piece suit, was holding Belle's hand.
"Listen, Parker, I don't mean to be a bad guest or anything, but do you have a spare bedroom I could use? Just a little bit? Me and Uhura here, we'd like to, well, you know..."
No, it wasn't polite, but then what the hell. It was a fun time today. We could blow off a little steam. Have to remember to change the sheets tonight. Belle Anna sweat when she danced hard. I presumed she would again. Maybe I should go ask Deanna first, but on my head be her displeasure, if any. It'd be an opportunity to kiss and make up afterwards.
Besides which, I owed Belle Anna. She'd taken my next to last Saturday evening, working twelve hours straight. Tips had to have been good, but it was a grind nonetheless. She'd given me a weekend with my woman and had never asked for a thing.
I returned to the outside for more photographic memories. I whispered to Deanna what had just happened to Belle Anna and Uhura. We were head to head, comfy close. Deanna nodded. Her house, and yeah, it was impolite, but it was a special time. My friends, and she accepted them all. For today we were all just girls together.
"Feeling romantic? We could lock our bedroom door," she offered. "Join the fun, sort of? Unless you want to slip into the water here with me? Let everyone watch?"
I smiled hard, but said no. I might bare my bod, but I could NEVER do public sex.
Well, maybe one time.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Janeway asked us all to try out her pool next Sunday.
After Janeway had tossed back a few rum El Presidentes, she invited us inside my home where she did a dance set for us, just like the ones we did at the club all the time. Boss Lady put on Disco (somehow I knew she would), and went into her strip. She started with a top and skirt, finishing up with a G-string.
She wasn't half bad, and had a great body for a gal her age. The inevitable pooches and sags of advanced physical decay and senility looked very sexy on her. Okay, so maybe she was fifty one (or two) at most, but she looked younger. Even naked. Everyone fondled her as she danced close to each of us in turn. I caressed her soft belly and was amazed to feel how warm she felt, how hot her skin of cream made me feel.
I eased my hand down the front of Janeway's G-string, carefully eyeing my Deanna to see if she disapproved. Janeway's bush scalded my fingertips and I hastily withdrew.
Annika gave Janeway a kiss and a hug. Then Janeway and her G-string came to each of us and asked if we wanted a dance. The music of Prince and sex filled the air. Janeway insisted on getting her damned tip. Excepting Annika. If our hands strayed when inserting the folded dollar bills, she chided us for violating local laws.
Deanna sucked on her breasts, daring me to do the same. Nice warm breasts, great nips. Something changed permanently amongst us all that afternoon, and we weren't just employees any more.
When Belle Anna and Uhura rejoined us, Janeway repeated the performance, to great applause from all.
A golden moment.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
By the time we hit the rest Stop the other side of Jefferson City, we were ready for a pause. Back in Kansas City Nicky Brown was in the hands of a fellow cat-person neighbor. Ahead of us lay Kaskaskia, the Mississippi, my sister and my daughter.
Planning for the trip the threat of Jarod re-awoke in me a feeling of unease. So I got a holster to fit my suit trousers belt and wore my Beretta in the small of my back. Deanna amazed me by asking if I could use that thing, to which I replied with a yes. After that she said not another word about it.
Deanna, I was realizing, was the most pragmatic woman I had ever known.
I was packing a no-name 9mm and she accepted my paranoia as is.
Deanna preceded me into the large stinky sanitary facility, and I was on edge enough so that the sight of her sweet buns bouncing to and fro in those rust slax did nothing for my libido. The morning air was just a hair nippy, so she rubbed her arms and hurried inside.
Deanna had her alcohol spray in one hand and was just easing a stall door open when the first bullet hit me.
There wasn't any immediate pain, but I felt it go through my throat, and I had to fall forward, unable to coordinate myself in any fashion or form. I fell on my side, and then the pain from the slamming of my body against the large tiles made me try to cry out. I could not speak, and I felt the blood pouring out of my open mouth.
Jarod, it had to be Jarod, stepped over my jerking body to fire at Deanna. I could see the bullet take her in her upper body, and I concentrated on the Beretta in my back. I could not feel anything with my hands, except in intermittent flashes, but I found my belt and forced my hand to follow it back to my holstered automatic.
I have never felt anything so hard to grasp, or so heavy and unwieldy, as that Beretta.
There was no hate in me. No desire for revenge. No shock. No fear for Deanna, or for myself. This was something I had to do and why it had to be done did not enter into my calculations, my needs, my desperation. My suit jacket fouled me, but I wriggled the gun over my hip and aimed it in the direction of the ski-masked figure.
I had to gag, and force my tongue to work the blood out of my mouth so that I could breath. I had to cough, as blood fouled my breathing passages again and again.
I fired, then again, but I hit nothing. The noise turned Jarod around, and he aimed at me as I fired two more times. Then he took a round in his hip.
Jarod staggered, and a wild round from his pistol flared off the floor tiles.
He was cursing as he straightened, patting at the blood staining his blue jeans.
"You fucking bitch whore!" he cursed. "You shot me!"
His next bullet hit me in the hip. Fucking Jarod never could hit anything worth a damn when his temper was running fast. He took six steps back towards me, his pistol pointed in my face. He kicked my Beretta out of my hand.
Jesus above, but I was hurting bad now! I couldn't moan, just gurgle and try not to drown in my own blood.
"No," he said. "I won't kill you quick, you dyke cunt. Instead I'm gonna put a few rounds in that pussy of yours.
"You're going to hurt before I kill you, you and your cunt sucking bitch over there. Hurt real bad." Then he waved the pistol in Deanna's direction, one of his sly smiles washing over his face.
"But first of you're gonna watch me take care of that lesbian cuze you been shacked up with. I'm gonna put the barrel of this guns where it'll do the most good and then you can watch me pull the trigger a few times. Should be real messy.
"Then you." Jarod ignored me and headed back to Deanna. He tried to pull her slacks down, but the belt wouldn't break. So he laid his pistol on the tiles and used both hands to pull down her slax.
"Fun time," he smiled at me, before he picked up his pistol again.
His eyes flickered behind me, and I felt a shoe nudge my head.
The first bullet got him high in the chest, and the next three lower down. The new figure stalked across the bloody floor and put two more in his head at point-blank range, the barrel almost touching Jarod's face.
The tall Black said something to Deanna, then came over to me.
"I called 911 before I came in here," he said. "Hang in there, help is on the way. He gave me his hanky to plug my wound and returned to Deanna
He was down to his A-shirt by the time the first trooper arrived. The Black had put his jacket under Deanna's head, and was holding the shirt against her chest wound.
The fucking Police made sure first he was disarmed before they bothered trying to save me or Deanna any. Which meant they stood around staring at the Black while me and Deanna bled.
God, but it took the LONGEST time before an EMS crew got to us. I was cold as hell, and knew I was shivering down into shock. The EMS ignored the Bulls and started helping. They stuck an IV into my hand and the shot of whatever I got for the pain made me decide to go ahead and slide down the slope and trust others to save me or not. I couldn't even think or worry about Deanna any more. Reality was now beyond me. Into His hands I delivereth myself, I am heartily sorry for the sins I have committed, please judge me not harshly...
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I felt as if my entire body was one big aching bruise, and maybe it was. I was rather disinterested in my environment, but I knew the Hospital surroundings for what they were.
A State Trooper was dozing in the chair alongside me, and he must have heard me rustle my coverings.
I tried to speak, but the sudden pain made me realize that was impossible.
"Are you conscious, Ma'am?" the young man asked. I managed to nod. "There's been an incident. You've been shot, and we need to know a few things. Can you speak?" I shook a no. Small movements didn't hurt too much.
"Did you know your attacker? Can you write down his name? Why did you shoot him?"
Why did I shoot him?
I closed my eyes and ignored him. Maybe the next Bull they sic on me won't be so retarded. I wanted to ask about Deanna, but my pain killer made me accepting of the fact that such information would have to wait.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A different Trooper was there when I awoke next.
"Ma'am? We have to talk. Could you tell me why you shot the man in the Rest Stop?" One hand was handcuffed to my bed railing. Oh great. Nothing here for me. I went under again.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Third time was the charm. Another Bull was waiting for me, but before he finished his questions, 'Bones' McCoy shoved his grinning visage into my area of vision.
"Would you please repeat that question, Officer? Just in case my tape recorder didn't get it all the first time? I thought not."
I felt the warmth of all those smooth southern teeth showing, and I hope I smiled back. Yes, I nodded, I remembered him. He asked me if I had been read my rights, and I wagged a no. He asked if I had been offered an attorney and he got another no.
He asked if I wished him to be my attorney and I nodded yes. Eventually the Bull left, verbally protesting, and McCoy produced a little key with which he got my handcuffs off.
I kept drifting in and out, but I got most of it.
Deanna was doing okay. Through and through in one lung, but recovering. Not ready to do a marathon, but improving. I was going to recover, and I was damned lucky. Bullet passed through my throat, which I had already figured out, and failed to hit either the Carotid or the spine. Just nicked the soundbox.
With any luck I'd come out of it with a nice sexy bass voice and a few nasty scars. Never make Miss America now he said. For all his Mint Julep charm man didn't pull many of his punches. I wouldn't ever be ravishingly beautiful again.
The State Police wanted to send me to prison because I was carrying an unauthorized concealed weapon. But all things considered, McCoy thought even a Republican Judge would laugh in the Prosecutors Face.
I'd been shot at close range in the back, and it was obviously the first round fired. Jarod had walked in both my and Deanna's blood, Deanna was unarmed, and Jarod got one off at Mister Montgomery before the Private Investigator returned fire. Add the restraining order which Jarod violated numerous times before the incident on the Interstate, and I had cause to feel threatened.
The Private Investigator had video tapes of Jarod stalking me. The Black from the Rest Stop.
Private Investigator?
"Miss Janeway," he said.
Much was explained. He hugged my hand and told me to go back to sleep. When I awoke it was to find my daughter waiting for me.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Annika Hansen was by my bedside when I came out this time. She leaned over to give me a good kiss.
"I'm taking advantage of you," she said. "I'd use your body for my depraved pleasure except I'm not much into corpses.
"Woman," she continued, "do you have any idea of the scare you gave us? Don't you ever get shot again. Disrupts the schedule at the "Treasure Chest" like you wouldn't believe." With that she patted my shoulder and said she was bringing in some other visitors. She left and I hoped to see what I indeed saw.
An eleven-year old sprinted to me and crawled over the railing to give me a desperate hug.
Minutes later I organized myself to the point where I noticed my Mother was there as well. More hugs and kisses. Now if only Deanna could join in, the family would be complete.
I could think and I could nod, and eventually Annika organized a clipboard and paper I could write on.
First thing Sis talked about was Deanna and how she was doing. Deanna could talk at least, but not very loudly. She sent her love, and gave Mom a kiss that she passed on to her only sister, me, with as much enthusiasm as she could manage.
Amy insisted on lying in bed with me until the nurse chased her off. Annika promptly put her back in my arms just as soon as the nurse turned her back. Amy was told repeatedly not to disturb my neck wound. She wanted the bandage off so she could see it good.
I dozed off again, after an hour or so of me nodding and Amy telling me of stories she had read. Amy read many books out of the library, and remembered them. So smart. To listen to her you'd never think inbreeding had come anywhere close to her. Her intelligence and beauty was God's great gift to me.
Somehow I must tell her soon that her Father was now dead. Not just away. Dead. He died violently in the woman's john on the interstate, eighteen miles east of the State capitol.
The next time I awoke it was time to feed me liquid whatever down a tube in my throat. Gabrielle was there, and she tried to help. The attendant disliked the assistance. Afterwards he apologized and cited hospital rules. She smiled, but dismissed his attentions. If the man only knew how unlikely it was that he'd ever get in her bed!
It developed that Bones had reduced charges on me to simple possession. Which they'd reduced to a fine and seizure of my Beretta. Janeway was fighting any charges whatsoever. She had no fear of the Bulls. She wasn't about to pay any fine. I was leaving tomorrow for a hospital in Kansas City.
From the doorway Janeway said that some video tapes had helped blow away the State Police crusade to jail the victims.
Janeway assumed charge, Annika appeared with cans of pop and snacks from some machine. Not once did Janeway or Annika offer to share their high calorie feast. Not that I could have swallowed, but still...
Evidently Janeway had hired the services of Archer, Tucker and Reed to monitor my brother when he got out of the county jail. She'd believed the Police wouldn't check on Jarod, and she'd been right. But the Private Investigative firm had plenty of tapes of Jarod at the club, around Deanna's home, watching me shop, that sort of thing.
They'd informed the Bulls a number of times of Jarod's violations of his restraining order, but their promises of prompt action were blow-offs to get the PI's out of their hair.
They had secret sound tapes of the promises, too.
Bones promised he'd get lots of good publicity from the mini-scandal once he introduced all the tapes to the local media. Crime's still a good topic on the Eleven O'Clock news.
In any case any charge in open court against me would be a circus.
Janeway was more than a bit pissed that you needed blackmail and money these days to get simple justice. But then also she didn't believe her club was a threat to the American Republic, the way the patrol car dicks did. No one forced those married men to come in and drool over a few naked dykes. Her words exactly. I suppose that means she thought ALL the strippers were lesbians. Or hoped they were.
Janeway added they'd found a cheap motel to put up Sis and Amy at, near the hospital. When I got to Kansas City again, Deanna wanted them to stay with her.
About that time Xena and Annika and an unhappy OberGruppenFueher Nurse pushed in a bed wherein lay Deanna.
We got to hold hands and mouth words of love at each other.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It's late Summer again. School's back in a week and Amy is trying desperately to enjoy her freedom while she can.
It's been a irritating trip back from Lawrence, but Deanna and my family and me were visiting Janeway again.
Dear Boss lady Janeway paid for my Private Detective, she paid for my lawyer, she and her Insurance paid for my medical care. And she got us another Burmese like Nicky Brown, when we lost our poor little Puss during the move to Kansas. Janeway and Annika are honorary family now. This new Burmese chirps too.
Amy named him Galahad because Galahad was the Great White Knight and Burmese cats are such a dark brown. Girl has her mother's sense of humor.
It's quiet in Kansas. We like it that way. We got married in a Unitarian Church in St. Louis, by a short gay priest, and nearly the entire crew from "Treasure Chest" were there to wish us well. Amy was the flower girl. Beverly was the Best Woman, and Janeway gave the Bride away. I thought I looked super in peach floor-length.
The throat looks like hell, and always will. A lot of spalling occurs when you take a round at close range.
Neelix gave the bride, me, a kiss. And the groom. The groom wore a dark blue pants suit. I wanted us both in dresses, but I wound up doing what my Babe wanted.
The marriage isn't legal, but it made us feel better.
Living together as a family with my sister and daughter and Deanna made the past and the scars small beer.
We live in Kansas now. Out in the middle of nowhere. It has it's advantages.
A couple of times Deanna and I've driven out on the prairie. Far out. Just to be out of sight and sound of everything.
We find a stretch of smooth county blacktop with nothing for zillions of miles until you come up against some of the nearest stars in the skies. She turns on the CD player full blast and we go far away enough so that the music acquires a magical far off quality. Then we dance. We dance close and kiss and enjoy the Stilly Night of silent stars. You can't get a Stilly Night in the city.
It's a magical time. We've taken Amy with us and she dances between us. She likes Hip-Hop, but no one is perfect. She'll suffer our Old people's music out of courtesy.
This time back I've visited the "Treasure Chest" first thing, but the old crew was mostly gone. Janeway still lurked in her office, but Annika stayed at home now. Annika was vastly fat now. Sort of. Annika was going to have a boy come the end of September, so Janeway was going to be a mother too, sort of.
I refrained from asking who the donor was. So long as it wasn't Neelix, all is well with the world.
Xena and Gabby had moved on to the west coast. San Francisco, of course.
Ezri had married a guy in his fifties who owned a few sports shoes places. I wondered if he knew the true meaning of sisterly love as practiced by her and Jadzia?
Uhura was living in sin with Janeway's lawyer, McCoy. Kira was still with Beverly, but Tasha had disappeared from Hoshi Sato's life. Belle Anne was the private secretary for a rich old widow named Lwaxana. living well in a fancy rich suburb near St. Louis.
Private Secretary. Right.
Birgit was still dancing, and she had a new girlfriend named "Punch". She'd stopped drinking and smoking and was looking years younger now than she had last year. "Punch" had spent twenty-three years in the Marine Corps. "Punch" was a half-owner of a firing range and gun shop south of here. Janeway had told me to think of G.I. Jane with lots more muscles.
I can't shout any more. It's even difficult to talk loud, but I carry a whistle. Amy can tell when I'm mad by the way I blow on it.
My dancing days are over, thanks to my scars, but Deanna loves me anyways, and besides, I was only a stripper for the money.
We're pretty much open about each other and our love, out there in Kansas. Deanna doesn't make anything like the money she did in the big city, and she doesn't do much major surgery anymore. But there aren't that many Doctors in Kansas so they can be picky about the home life of a Doc who'll make house calls.
Once in a while.
I'm going through a course at the land college intended to make me a Medical Technician eventually. Then I can work with Deanna all the time. My Mother, my dearest Sister, she'd like to do something with her life too. She's our part-time receptionist at the moment. It's still a little awkward Sis and me being Amy's mother when the other's busy. Right now Mom's taking a few catch-up Math and English classes. Something to start with.
Amy loves the big pool Janeway has here. Amy can swim the length easily, surprising the hell out of me. Janeway adores her, and Annika dotes on her. But Annika has been feeding her candy. Bad Annika. Very bad. Very very very bad. I'd spank Annika except I think she'd like it.
Maybe I'll go spank her anyways. Deanna will help. Deanna thinks Annika is dead sexy with that big belly. I agree.
END