The following is a bit of alternative fiction based on certain characters from the Xenaverse. It is not meant to infringe on anyone else's rights.
Do we really know the people we see? From the very moment I was lifted towards the heavens by this towering woman I felt as if I were experiencing Xena's own heat. I felt the weight of the dark tint to her eyes, the fearful flash of pearly whites in an all too dangerous grimace, and the power of her hands against my shoulders. The sensations all reminded me of the Goddess, Xena.
But the woman holding me up in the air was named Melinda, and in another time and place she was a priestess. Here, she was only a reflection of the one *I* knew. She was real and solid to herself though, and I had a choice in that moment. I could respect that this was *her* experience, as much as it was mine or I could tell her my dreams, and how much she was a shadow of them.
Which should I believe? The power of the now, which was shaking me from stem to stern? Or should I give my passions solely to the power of the dream realm? Or was I trying to make a false statement. Maybe they were both real, in their own place and time. Maybe I had to quit fighting this scenario, surrender to it. Experience it.
Maybe I just have to get over the notion that the world revolved around my problems and me....
I could feel her knuckles digging painfully into my collarbones. My back was pressed against the wall. I could feel the light switch poking at my left side. "Name on picture," I managed to squeak out finally at the image of my angry goddess. "Janice." I saw Joni stoop elegantly.
Melinda looked like she was going to pop me against the wall. I found myself preparing to stop her. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I knew that I shouldn't have to deal with this; 75 grand or no.
Suddenly there was a blank white space between that face and me. I saw Joni's neat fingers cross my vision. I heard the gasp and felt the release, as Melinda gently lowered me to the floor. The CEO took the photo in her hand and clasped it to her breast. She looked at me through newly tearing eyes. "Sorry," she sniffed, apologetic, but not really.
I wasn't sure I wanted to accept her apology, as half-given as it was. I was hacked. But this was Melinda. I shook my head and brushed my shirt and collar down. "Well, fuck, just don't do it again." At least not that way, my thoughts continued for me. She could grab anytime me if she wanted to lift me by my hips and take me against the wall.
I turned to Joni, "Thanks." The blonde shrugged and stepped away from me. That felt like a cold slap. I told myself, 'Remember, the world does not revolve around me'...around...she doesn't want to be around me. An echo of her voice, saying, "What are *you* doing here," played in my head.
I didn't know anymore. "Look," I said, "I'm just here to have you sign a requisition. Pony sent me."
Melinda's gaze narrowed, "Pony? She knew I was...busy." Joni hid a laugh behind her hand, disguising it as a cough when the CEO turned to look at her.
I sighed, suddenly tired of it all, "Yeah, well, so was Pony." I paced past Joni, carefully avoiding her, and lifted the clipboard from the desk. "All I need is the one. She signed all the others."
Mel's teeth clenched. Her gaze narrowed. She moved towards me purposefully, then bent down to grab a pen from the floor. It occurred to me that I was just angry enough that I'd forgotten how much skin was available for perusal. And I'd not noticed how...good she smelled, even with the alcohol. Actually that just seemed to heighten the flavor of her. It made me wonder what she tasted like.
I handed her the forms. She applied her signature with a deftness that belied her intoxicated state, and passed them back. "Thank you," I said, more coldly than I expected. Then I sighed. I couldn't stand the hurt in her eyes. I looked at Joni who slid up next to Mel, and wrapped an arm around the woman's waist. Joni gazed at me with almost ...no expression. Hiding something, claiming something.
The world does NOT revolve around me...
I looked down at my feet, then back up at the two women who, at this moment, meant more to me than the world.
"You know, Mel," I said, as I started to move towards the door, "I don't know if this will help or not." I debated for all of two seconds the wisdom of what I was about to do, "You know that woman?" Mel's eyes flickered with the question. Joni looked as if her ears just pricked up. I winced internally. How does it feel to cut off one's own foot.
O fine, Doctor, very fine. "She...she sometimes shows up at the rainbow club, now and then. I've . . .Seen her." Oh yes, I've seen her from a distance, a far distance. Except when it wasn't. "She was one of the professors who helped," wince, "with my dissertation." Who I fantasized about even as I was hating her . . .so angry . . .so very hurt. I trusted . . .because of a familiar face.
I should know better. "I think . . ." Breathe slow and even Bernie. It's over, "you'll find Janice Covington there on the weekends. She's . . . not the person she used to be." It's funny what acts as a catalyst for change. A little scandal can do a body good, reset the priorities a little.
Mel was blinking and blinking at me. Joni's astonishment was painted on her face. Yeah, trust me to be the one . . .
I stopped at the door, turned the knob, "Oh, and Mel." The brunette was still blinking. I jerked a shoulder in Joni's direction, "She's not the only one who wants you." Then I looked at the blonde who wasn't a shadow, but was light to me, "I don't know what you're looking for, but I'll tell you this. *I'm* the real thing." Then I slammed the door behind me.
I dropped the papers off in the office, did one last check with the guys, and took the rest of the day off. Exactly *how* I made it home is something of mystery to me. I was on autopilot, operating from a pure intuition, rather than from any conscious effort. I was still breathing, and that's what counted. My feet carried me right up to my door without any input from the rest of me.
The rest of me...
The rest of me was occupied in Mel's office. The sight of Joni pressing herself into Mel's passionate embrace still captured me. I could still feel the tingle I felt watching their tongues dueling . . . I was *chained* as surely as if they'd wrapped me in links of steel.
I was so hurt. I was so angry. Angry? Hell. I was absolutely *fucking* furious with them! I could forgive Mel drinking herself stupid. We all do halfbrained things sometimes. But she was drinking herself to death over a certain plagiarizing Betrayer, who . . .who . . . I winced to even think of it. She had betrayed me. I needed her so much, so much. I still needed. But that was the story of my life, wasn't it.
Oh Gods, Janice, why'd you do it? What craziness possessed you. You were a genius.....so so bright, like a star.
It was because of her I started dreaming...remembering . . . she ...we were so close to culminating our relationship. I'd have...given her anything, if she'd asked. But she never did.
I could understand where Mel was coming from. The Janice of this world had no clue about asking for what she really wanted. You'd see it in her eyes, but her mouth . . . would say no. And that's what you had to live with.
No.
Poor Mel.
Poor Me.
Maybe I could understand it, especially when one thinks about what I was nearly driven to do.
And Joni?
My mind shied away from even thinking the name. It lead to too many thoughts, and wants... and the remembrance of no touching...I so needed to touch her. It was beyond a drive, beyond the demand of my body. It was a soul thing, and I could feel parts of me shriveling each day I was denied in my need. I was standing outside for some time, hankering for a body, a person that wasn't present, when my door creaked open. This should have been shocking. The key was still in my hand and hadn't made it to the lock yet. For some reason, however, it seemed like the most logical thing in the world to me.
That just shows just how far out of it I was.
My thoughts were still not-focusing on Joni. I was *not* experiencing the intoxicating rush as her eyes widened in sexual receptivity; *not* tearing those demure suits off that lithe, creamy body of hers; *not* stealing her breath away with my lips. I shut the door behind me. I think I locked it, but couldn't remember going through the process. "Bernie?"
It was a soft, spare call; too soft and too spare to immediately wake me from my walking slumber. I shrugged it off as an auditory hallucination and looked forward to another night of solitary pleasure. At least that helped, some.
It was better that way. If Joni were there with me, I was sure I would act out all the frustration and tension my thoughts of her had managed to build up inside me. I just knew she had to know what this was doing to me. She had to. If only she were here I could show her. If only...
"Bernie?" the voice tried again, stronger this time. The way the "R's" rolled off of her tongue tasted like her. I decided to humor myself and have a look-see. Maybe the visual hallucination was better.
It was.
She was perfect, right down to the blouse (which looked hastily buttoned) and the disheveled cornsilk hair. Her dark eyes were hooded with desire left unsatisfied. I could smell the peculiar scent of coffee and musk. It wasn't a hallucination. It was she. Joni was here, with me. Now. It Really Was Her.
My legs carried me, even as disbelieving as I was, in her direction. I stopped. My hand lifted, almost of its own accord. The raw energy of fury threatened to sweep me away. Her regard remained unchanged as I brought my hand down, and stopped, a hair's breadth away. I could have been caressing her. I could feel the tickle of energy spread across my palm, a reflection of her warmth.
It could have been a slap. There was enough power behind the swing it would have been quite solid if it had connected. I'd fully expected her to grab me the way she'd handled Mel. I was looking forward to it, to her touch. She didn't even reach to stop me. She trembled resisting that impulse, as did I.
Was this how I wanted it to be? How she wanted it? A relationship begun or ended in violence? All that did was invite more hurt. I didn't need anymore than I was carrying already.
I dropped my hand wearily and with a sigh. I was still angry. It came out in words. I said something I'd never say normally. "Bitch," I said as I turned on my heel and marched towards my room. That's where the bathroom was. I felt like I could use a little water on my face. At the time it made sense.
"Bernie?" I could feel the heat of her on my back, the way she paced after me. She was glaring that tiger look of hers and slowly tracking me to the bedroom.
It occurred to me, when I was past the doorframe, that I'd made a mistake. I found myself staring at the one place I knew I'd be helpless against her. She was already reaching for me when I spun away, hurrying forward. I pinned her with my eyes. It was the only part of my anatomy I could use to touch her. It was just as well, especially if my eyes held even a fraction of the fire in my voice. I didn't trust my hands right then.
"Do *not* speak to me! Do *not* touch me!" I heard myself hiss it. My fists clenched helplessly, angrily. My nails dug into my palm. I didn't notice it until later. There was no distraction from the brutal need of my heart. We were too deep within the shadows for me to see what affect my statement had, save her half step backwards. I wondered at my mouth, which seemed to be operating of its own will. In this case, it was because of an intrinsic need; pure survival.
I resisted the urge to pummel my way back out, and took the low route of clarification. "Just tell me one thing: why...her?" It was an irrational thing to say. I loved Melinda, why shouldn't Joni? Why this sudden jealousy. It wasn't an emotion I was used to experiencing, but the hurt was that Joni had denied me, when *I* needed her so. "Why her and *not* me?" The words tumbled out, echoes of a demand once made of me. It was Another dream made real.
I began advancing on Joni, each word accompanied by a full step forward. Some how we'd turned around. Joni was left nowhere to retreat, save *back* into the bedroom...
By the time I had her cornered, I'd repeated the demand at least twice. Maybe more. Tears of rage began a slow build. Something had to give.
"Why?" I repeated. My control was starting to fracture. Joni remained silent, simply pressing herself further against the wall. Her incomprehensible maddening silence only infuriated me more and more. Then I remembered my own injunction against her speaking or touching, and everything suddenly made sense. I counted to ten, before going nose-to-nose with her and sputtering a shout of "Speak!"
And she did.
"Because...you wanted her...and not me...so I had to have her...because it was the closest I could come...to you..."
Talk about taking the wind out of one's sails. I found myself gasping for air in shock. My mouth opened and closed like a fish's. I managed to get a few words out. "I don't want what?!" I was teetering between laughing and crying at the absurdity of her statement.
"Me!" Joni's tormented eyes positively burned into me through the darkness. "You won't talk to me. Won't *touch* me. Won't even..."
"*You* told me not to!!" I really didn't like the way my voice started fracturing and squeaking when I screamed. It didn't sound anywhere near impressive enough to garner more than contempt from her. And, more frustrating, the tears were winning. She recoiled and screamed back, "I never..." Each word was frozen in liquid oxygen, which gave away nothing of how certain parts of me were on fire as I set about reminding her, "In. The. Fucking. Elevator." Her eyes went wide. I could practically hear the mental head slapping. Need and desperation led to my next terribly blunt action. All this time I had hoped for the softness of our introduction. I had hoped that our mutual need would lead us to each other. I hadn't planned on the terrible frenzy of passion that threatened to overwhelm me. Where had all my patience gone?
Daring greatly, my hand reached out and grabbed Joni's, and pressed it hard against my crotch. I could feel the heat of her palm strike right through me with pure energy reaching through the fabric of my slacks. It was like a tiny bolt of liquid lightening curling up and out through my center. I'm sure she could feel how incredibly moist and swollen I'd become. My skin flushed as I fought past the first electric shudder this unexpected, long dreamt of contact elicited in me. I felt something warm and glowing spark deep within me and nearly came right then.
My inhaled breath, however, sounded like *nothing* compared to the sharp in-take from her. Her hand trembled like a thin twig in hurricane. I managed a groan, "Does *this* feel like I don't want you?" I was shaking myself, almost overcome.
Her eyes locked unto mine. There was anger there, mixing with lust mixing with need mixing with want mixing with surrender...to the inevitable. Sweet, sweet surrender.
Her lips moved in the shadows, the words soft and unmistakable. I wasn't satisfied with the plea, and drew close, as if to hear her better. "What?" I asked tenderly. I could feel her breath on my ear, the warmth of her body.
"Touch me."
Her voice splintered. The firm control she'd once exercised upon herself cracked and failed. The unfamiliar desperation of her voice ignited me as surely a match taken to tinder.
"Oh, I'll *touch* you," I promised. My tone turned feral. My gaze went hazy in lust. I released her hand, so I could free mine. There was a sudden power in my fingers and haste. I struggled to unbutton her silk blouse with a semblance of calm, and upon failing, gave up immediately. The buttons went popping and flying randomly about. Another time I would have given the time to undo each barrier, but not today. I grasped at the top hem of her skirt, fingers on the button-catch that held the wrap-around closed. It tore open and the cloth slid down and away. Joni's hands flew out, startled, and she tried to cover her self in an uncharacteristic effort at modesty. I ignored that. Her eyes were telling me a different story.
I pulled her hands away, head shaking as though with a disappointed pupil, one who proved too slow in learning her lessons. I then grasped handfuls of sleek blonde hair, forcing her to meet my eyes. "Mine," I hissed, right before crushing my lips to Joni's. There was none of the gentleness I'd dreamed. There was no seduction. There was only the raw passion that had been stoked in me day after day, year after year.
I only distantly heard my own voice, rough and demanding, as my lips devoured the flesh of her jaw, cheek and neck. "...Got to have you. You only fuck me in my dreams...never lay a finger on me...anywhere...Need. You *are* mine. Say it!" Her whimper was answer enough. My fingers danced at her outer folds, her own hands pushed against me, feeling. Everywhere she touched there was a score of lightening. The only thing missing was the thunder, except there was my heart pounding so loudly. She shook in the most intimate places, feeding my hunger for her. "...Look...don't touch...bitch...mine...want you...need you."
I was losing myself, losing my grip. I was becoming pure sensation, feeling myself awaken. We breathed as one, whimpering our shared need.
"Bernie..." Lava flowed through my veins. It wasn't so much a whimper as a gasp for a last breath before slipping under. If we drowned in fire, we went together, "...please..."
"Yes."
The world flowed around me and disappeared. Together, we slipped beneath the waves.
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This page was last updated: July 24, 1998
ŠJuly 1998
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