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.
After introducing me to my team, Mel and Pony finished up the tour by showing me the extensive gym-pool-sauna complex which took up most of the rest of the third floor. I've never really been impressed with Gyms. One bad experience in junior high was all it took to convince me that some places were not meant for me.
We were required to take some physical education class. There were some choices about kind. I'd taken a gym course that sounded easy; weight lifting. (Hey, it meant I didn't have to run!..or so I thought...) I wound up with a broken wrist, sprained fingers, a wrenched ankle, stubbed toe and a black eye. It hadn't been a happy thing.
Of course, at the time, I thought it was all my fault. I thought that I was just so incredibly inept that I couldn't even work a simple piece of equipment. No one told me, until years later, that the equipment was old and that you were supposed to have partners or spotters. Yet, despite knowing the logical reasons why it happened, I was dealing with a fear of GYMs and all that it implied. To me they implied Pain and embarrassment. And I don't mean the fun kind. (Though how I knew there *was* a fun kind....)
So to have Pony making it very clear that *I* was expected to set an example for Bradford and Jeffrey and make regular use of all that was available in the facilities was disconcerting. She didn't tell me this outright, of course, but how else was one supposed to interpret an authority figure pointing out and explaining purpose of *every* piece of gym equipment around, all while giving one's slightly generous belly a side-long glance before pointing to each piece? I felt a huge impulse to run and not come up from hiding. I wanted *sooo* badly to be Brigid in that moment.
I wanted to prove that I, Brigid, knew how to use each and every piece of equipment and then some, could run for miles on end without breaking too much of a sweat, that I had led armies, could do magic, and could fuck and love and be fucked and loved by my spouses and beloveds for hours on end......But Dr. Gabrielle pointed that "issue" out a long time ago. It was time to quit running and pretending and wishing. It was Time to face my fears and the truth. Time to ....at least try...again.
I glanced at Mel, who was remaining intently silent during this interchange and I "hmmed" and nodded and made sure I at least looked like I was listening. Though I was shivering inside as I looked at these giant metal bones held together by levers and pulleys designed to "tone and strengthen" the body. I tried to quit looking at the place as if it were my graveyard...
What had Doc Gabrielle said? "Accept the fear, then do it anyway." Yeah. I added a waffly smile to my expression of interest, and ignored the twitch that threatened to take over my eyelids. I'm sure it looked fake, but I guess I did a decent enough job as the General (If anybody should be wearing stars, it was this spiritual mountain of a woman) didn't order me to start cleaning the washrooms with a toothbrush. She even offered to work out a starting routine for me, which I gladly accepted.
I mean, Brigid would know, but I ...didn't.
I was just *imagining* the suggestive gleam in her eye as she made the offer. I *had* to be.
Right?
Right.
I'll keep telling myself that.
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They rounded out the tour by taking me back to the main lobby, where the almost inscrutable Ms. Hardbody was waiting. The jolt of anxiety I felt at the predatory expression that suddenly covered her face...lets just say I really hoped she didn't have handcuffs. Or, it was possible, that I really hoped she did. . .
It would have been helpful if the powerful looking ...Amazon.. turned that hungry gaze on the nice-looking young man sitting behind the reception desk. Or maybe she could have indulged in a bit of polite conversation with him at least? The shift in focus might have permitted me to be able to reestablish my equilibrium.
Instead She was making eyes, with a daring aplomb, at all three of us, that made me wonder if she would wait until we were in a less public place before making me fall to my knees in worship...
Suddenly, Wild and frenetic erotic images assailed the inner recesses of my mind. I found myself nearly gasping with need as the agent was temporarily replaced with Mel's own sweet face and body in my head.....and knew the source of my desire. Mel...
I wanted, in that moment, to drag her away to the closest place with a flat surface. The floor would do, but I..we...needed the privacy...and...I needed not to be thinking about this right now...but my center ached..for the almost almost familiar touch..Not quite the same.. as I remembered, but so soft and deliciously jolting that it made the backs of my knees zing with a tempered recognition. Not the same, but ...she would do...is that what it was?
I had no idea. Only a strong compulsion which I resisted as much as I reasonably could. Mel wasn't, after all, involved in my dreams really. But.. her face.. her smell..so close. So very close.
I was going to have a lot to talk about at Dr. Gabrielle's.
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I was saved from my libidinous dilemma by Pony.
"Take Ms. Poughkeepsie to security and have her issued the necessary clearances, agent." She ordered my delivery with total expectation of obedience. Her eyes flashed with authority and the smile was one of feral leadership. I found myself breathing in and flattening sucking in my gut. Just because.
Pony continued, "Then show her the car pool. She'll be using unit 415." I blinked at the idea of a car being called a unit. Made it sound so official.
Ms. Hardbody, who still hadn't quite achieved named status, nodded regally. I had a sudden vision of her, wielding a simple leather flog, and being part of Ms Heather's house of Dominance. Then, once again her face changed....and ..it wasn't Mel, but..so close....so...and me, leaning against the wall with a back warmed and tingling as if from a solid massage and a cunt gently spilling and the soft hands of a hazel eyed strawberry blonde goddess touched....and marked...my marks.. gone..
Xena....Gabrielle..
Who did not exist...and never would.
OH... How I yearned.....yearned.
I missed them so.
Mel's soft addition nearly slipped my attention, but I caught it, despite my emotional rambling. Missing would be saved for off duty time. It must be. Now...was now.. "My assistant will be there with the details."
I wouldn't have thought it physiologically possible for a body to go from bronze tan to marble white in under a second. The agent certainly gave it a good shot, though. Whether it was because Mel had spoken (which was unlikely as her tone was as cool and professional as ever) or because there was some implied threat to that little addition (damned if I could hear it, though), Ms. Hardbody went from 'hungry eyes' to 'doe-caught-in-the-headlights-in-the-middle-of-the-road eyes'.
The experience of the agent as a "Mistress" of the delights vanished.
I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. I shook hands with my new employers (the nerves from my hand to my core quietly going into meltdown in the process of engaging Mel's solid grip) and followed the dark-suited agent down the hall to a side office. My legs were positively insisting I *not* leave those two, (because I suddenly had an extreme hankering for a long lasting honey salted sandwich with me in the middle. The need was intense enough that, where before I was only imagining a physical reaction, now I was definitely feeling the slide as I walked.) but one doesn't argue with those who sign the paychecks and I didn't really need a sexual harassment suit. Not that they'd sue me, since I had little in the way of money. Nope, they'd just fire me and find some other whiz kid...
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We didn't walk that long, but I got the distinct impression Ms. Hardbody was nervous. Her abrupt solicitousness unnerved me. She was constantly checking that I didn't get lost or stumble or so much as stub my toe. It was even more nerve-racking than her original predatory look. If this tower of feminine power was spooked, *I* should have been shaking in my medium heels.
Right?
Right.
So exactly *why* did I just feel bored with all this? Not counting the fiery desire to toss my CEO over a conference table and do things to her that were probably illegal in this part of the country, that is.
I knew I needed help.
We ended up at a very nondescript door with an equally nondescript sign declaring SECURITY. I'd wised up enough to know it would be more than a couple of bear-bellied uniformed hunched over a couple small monitors and their Styrofoam cups of bad coffee. My escort pressed her hand to the glass panel to the right of the knob, waited a beat, then pushed the door with what looked like significant effort. There was an accompanying 'whoosh' of air, the sort caused by unequal pressure and hydraulics.
Following Ms. Hardbody landed me in something resembling Mission Control down in Cape Kennedy. There were Banks of monitors, consoles, and people in dark suits flittering all about. Several were in their shirt-sleeves, their shoulder- or hip-holsters in prominent display. The heavier artillery was behind equally-heavy glass against the far wall. Every monitor showed some section of the building, even the washrooms, while the main screen was an enhanced, real-time satellite shot of the entire complex and the grounds.
Seeing this should have made me at least a little nervous. There was the notion of "Big Brother" and all. And the Truth was I was surprised how many of the suits were women. There were a *lot* of suits around.
"Nice set-up," I said to no-one in particular. Naturally I was ignored while Agent Hardbody sought out one of the others. I stopped somewhere in a pathway designed for people who work in close quarters. I was suddenly tempted to sit down. These heels, while not uncomfortable, were still new enough to make my feet ache. The tour had been a truly long exploration and these feet were used to tennies.
"Phoenix was sending some instructions about this one?" she murmured to a slightly shorter brunette she'd tugged aside, a dismissive wave towards me her only acknowledge of my presence. I chose not to be offended and started staring at the chair longingly, while trying to spy on their conversation enough to keep ahead of things.
The brunette gave a restrained sigh and pointed with her eyes to the corner directly behind us, clearly wanting to be elsewhere. Hardbody gave off the same vibes, not mention going stiff as a board. I pick up the signals, but for some reason ignored them.
I did that sometimes. It was like feeling the impulse to grab an umbrella, seeing it was sunny, and reasoning, "OH I don't need an umbrella! It's a beautiful day!" So I'd leave the thing behind and later regret not having the umbrella when a sudden storm erupted.
I was quick to turn to the designated corner, despite the warning signs. I lost my breath immediately as I found myself staring into a pair of wood-brown eyes. Eyes I knew. Eyes that knew me. Eyes I hadn't seen in nearly five years.
Agent Hardbody managed to rotate herself a moment or two after I remembered I needed to breathe. My vocal apparatus was still trying to recover from its lobotomy, so she took up the slack. "Miss Cirrah," the agent said politely. "Miss Pappas said..."
Joni Cirrah eyes hardened (thank gods not at me. I almost felt sorry for the agent. Almost) and cut in, rather sternly, "*Doctor* Pappas, you mean."
The agent winced and tried again. "Doctor Pappas asked that Miss Poughkeepsie receive clearances. I'll need to know what parameters..."
"She receives Blue One clearance." Joni...Miss Cirrah...ah, geez...*Joni's* tone made me wonder exactly who was giving the orders upstairs. Sure, the Joni I remember had her clique of fellow travelers...a *big* clique...the sort that make school administrators nervous. And this was at college, no less, where cliques were supposed to be passe. Unless, you were in sports, of course, which I wasn't...
My brain was rambling again, trying to come to grips with the fact the secret object of my desire for the past decade was less than a dozen paces from me right then. I was trying to reconcile this with the look of murderous hostility in those same brown eyes I'd fantasized over. I was so preoccupied, I only distantly heard the exchange which was going on. Talk about "needing authorization from the supervising director of intelligence", "terms of contract", and heated words over "jurisdiction over personnel"...I didn't really hear much...
What had been a simmering need, brought on by Mel's proximity, upped another notch to low boil. I was going to have to find a closet or something moderately private. Soon.
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ŠJuly 1998
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