Lessons in Confidence

June 18^th, 1999, midday
_{San Leandro, California…}

  Chance glanced back at Karla, brows furrowed.  “You want eggs in a glass?  You’re going to drink them straight like that?  That’s kind of gross.  Aren’t you supposed to cook them?”

  “Protein.  If you cook them, half the nutritional value goes away.” 

  Chance nodded and broke three eggs over the side of a glass, trying not to make too much of a mess in the kitchen.  He cupped one hand under the shells and carried them to the trashcan then washed his hands in the sink.  He picked up his bag of sunflower seeds and brought her glass over to the sofa and handed them to her. 

  The boy dropped down into the adjacent recliner and began nibbling on the hulled seeds, reveling in their salty taste.  “So, how can you eat those raw, like that?  I mean, I dunno, it’s just weird when you think about the fact that they’re raw chicken fetuses.” 

  Karla smirked, brought the glass to her lips and downed it with ease.  She put the glass on the coffee table and grinned.  “So says the boy eating a bag of sunflower fetuses.”

  Chance replied with a sour face.  “Oh geeze.  Seriously, though.  I mean, I like scrambled and hardboiled eggs, but… those were raw.”

  “Sweetheart, commercial and most farm grade eggs are unfertilized.  At best, they’re chicken periods.”

  Again, he cringed.  “Great.  It’s like placenta blob of nutrition.  Wonderful.  Now I’m going to have that image in my head – chicken periods.”

  Karla wagged her brows suggestively.  “I ate chicken period. What can I say? I earned my ‘Chicken Wings.’ Meanwhile, you’re over there eating my food’s food.  You’re not a vegan, so why does it bother you?”

  “Because it’s not cooked?”

  “Yeah, yeah.  Sit over there and eat the flower children, then.”  She shifted her weight then winced and brought her hand to favor her chest.  “Okay, look.  I know this is going to make you uncomfortable but I need to take off my bra.  The underwire is right on the break.”

  “Oh, uhm… you want me to leave the room?”

  “No, I want you to go and get me my big fluffy robe.  I’d teleport it to me, but I can’t remember if it’s in the closet, across the bed, or hanging up in the bathroom.  I’ve been doing memory games to help me with that… because I don’t want to wind up in a wall one day, or inside of a chair, so I need to learn how to remember where everything is when I see it.  But, if you could be a dear, I’d love for you to get me my robe.”

  He put the bag of seeds on the table and gave her a ‘thumbs up’ gesture then walked out of the living room.  Chance moved into her room and looked around.  After two and a half weeks, this was the first time he could recall ever being in her bedroom.  There was a personal bathroom across from the bed and he checked there first.  The robe was nowhere to be found but he noticed a very small, neatly assorted makeup kit with only the bare minimum colors.  Pink lipstick, gloss, pink nail polish, and foundation. 

  Chance turned back towards the bed, saw it was neatly made and clean.  As he walked by it, he ran his hand across one of the decorative pillows then touched one of the regular pillows against the headboard.  The sham was silky soft, made from high thread-count cotton.  He turned to the nearby closet and opened it.  Her robe was inside, hanging on a hook mounted to the inside of the door. 

  His eyes widened at the sight of so many outfits.  Most were different variations of skirts.  But, to his mild amusement, she only had six pairs of shoes.  Conversely, there were at least a dozen designer handbags neatly arranged along the back of the walk-in closet. 

  Chance grabbed the robe, closed the door and made his way back to the living room.  He froze in place, seeing her topless on the sofa.  She folded her blouse and laid it over the armrest of the couch then looked up at him.  “Yes?” Her bra was across her lap. 

  He swallowed back his nervousness, licked his dry lips and passed the robe to her.  “It was in the closet.”  His gaze lowered briefly then lifted again, trying to maintain eye contact with her.  “You did that on purpose didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t really consider it one way or the other.  Most of the time, if I took my clothes off around a man, he wouldn’t mind.  Even the gay ones.”  She laid the bra overtop of her blouse, took the robe from him and casually began fixing the left sleeve, which was inside out. 

  “Gay… guys?”

  “Yeah, I’ve had gay friends over in the past.  You saw my closet.  You think I’m that organized on my own?  God no.”

  “But… But why would they see you topless?”

  “Oh, honey, gay men love boobs.  All the ones I know, anyway.  It’s the rest of the equipment they typically dislike.  I’ve gone clubbing with gay guys plenty of times.  See, it’s all about personality.  I could probably get more numbers than you could at a gay club.  I like to have fun and I laugh at people’s jokes and smile.  You’re timid and quiet, and put your left foot on top of your right one.”

  “I what?” He looked down.  His left foot was atop of his right foot.  He opened his stance and cleared his throat.  “I didn’t know I did that.  Sorry.”

  “Sorry?  What for?”  She eased her legs down from the sofa and carefully stood up, wincing from the pain in her torso.  She draped the robe across her forearm and cupped a hand beneath her breast and lifted them.  “Is the bruise dark?  I can’t exactly see over these things.”

  Chance blushed brightly.  His mouth went dry and his pupils dilated.  “Uhm, yes, you have a bruise.  But it’s not dark purple, just... uh, you know, like you can tell it’s a few days old.”

  She gingerly eased her rather voluptuous bust back into place, pulled the large, fluffy robe on, one arm at a time, then tied the sash at hip level and settled back on the sofa.  “You had anime eyes, there, for a minute, babe.  Did you like seeing that?” 

  “I, uh… Wow.”

  “Yeah, I get that sometimes.  Somewhere between upper ‘E’ and lower ‘F’.  I can go either way.  …If you know what I mean.” She offered a playful wink then leaned back against the backrest of the couch. “I think the rib has nearly mended itself.  If I just went out and found myself a play date, it would go a little faster.” 

  “Is that how you use your abilities, too?”

  The succubus laughed softly.  “Oh, no, no honey.  My abilities are tied into my metabolism.  Teleportation burns a lot of calories.  Telekinesis can, too, especially if I use it to lift a lot.  Sometimes, I’ll pack away a dozen eggs in one meal, and if I’m planning on a day of combat, I’ll eat pasta and stuff like that.  And I’ll be starving by lunch.” 

  “You eat all that stuff?  But you’re so… small.”

  “My waist, maybe, but not my tits, obviously.  You saw them.  That’s where all that food goes, I guess.  In all seriousness, I’ve never met an ugly succubus or incubus.  I think we evolved ourselves to be genetically attractive in order to survive.  We age if we don’t have sex.  And once we get really old, we age rapidly without sex.  I’m going to turn four hundred this year… so I’m going to need it to happen damn soon.  I don’t wanna test any theories on my aging.  You know, considering the fact that I’m three times older than any other sex demon I’ve ever met.”

  “I… Why haven’t you?”

  Karla offered a wry sort of look in return.  She shrugged and shook her head. “I just didn’t want to bring a fling over and make you feel uncomfortable.”

  Chance licked his lips.  His mouth felt dry.  “You could have anyone you want.  So what do you look for?”

  “I don’t even care about people’s face or general build.  Most can’t help it very much.  I look for smarts, sense of fashion, personality… things that someone can define about themselves.” 

  “O-Oh, right, okay.  Uhm… you don’t have to starve yourself on my account, Karla.  I swear.  And you don’t have to worry about me being judgmental or whatever.  I honestly hold you in the highest respect.  It really made me mad the other day when the man called you all those names.” 

  A cynical grin tugged at the corner of her lips.  “Yeah.  I only like to hear those words as pillow talk.”

  “Girls… actually like hearing that stuff in bed?”

  “Sometimes.  Depends on the situation and the guy.  I know, it’s confusing.  Sometimes we women only like being told what to do when we’re naked, too.  Incase you’re keeping notes.” 

  “I don’t understand.  Why?”

  Her grin evolved into an amused smile.  “Because, initially, women aren’t turned on by how hard you can grind your hips on a dance floor, or how crass you can be in regards to sex; trust me, most guys are crass when they flirt, especially if they’re drunk.”

  She scooted a bit of hair behind her left ear and continued her explanation. “Honey, women are turned on by a guy that says clever things, flirts in a way that isn’t derogatory… and then once our motor is running, we’re drawn in by passion.”

  “Oh?”

  “Sometimes, we gauge a man’s passion on how firm he touches our body, or how he looks at us, or if his dialogue makes a girl feel like she’s the center of his universe.  Passion is measured in intensity.  And if a man is really into it, and pulls our body to his chest, and looks down in our eyes, and pulls me into a kiss while clinging to me, and fisting my hair and then, in a low, husky tone, he shudders and says, ‘That’s it, keep doing it just like that, bitch,’ then yes… it’s hot.  Super hot.  Everything else is forgotten.  I no longer care if he’s long and thin or short and thick. I no longer care if he has a washboard stomach, or a six-pack.  I stop caring if he’s athletic, muscular, or of normal build.  All I want is for him to touch me, engage me, and show me that he’s into me as much as I’m into him.”  She trailed off into an impish grin.  “I got carried away, didn’t I?”

  “Just, uh… Just a little.  And I could never do those things.  I’m too timid.  I don’t have enough confidence to be like that.”

  “You could learn.  Women don’t go hunting for losers when all the good ones are taken.  They start looking for men who have potential.  And they do their best to bring out the best in their man.  I don’t exactly have a man.  And I couldn’t, anyway.  Basing a fulltime relationship on a demand for sex always ruins a relationship.  So I do what I want with whomever I want, and I get my fill of romance from novels.” 

  “I’m sorry you don’t have that special romance in your life.  You deserve to be happy.  You’re beautiful, you’re smart, you’re a team player, and… I bet you’d make an amazing wife.”

  Karla’s grin broadened into a genuine smile.  “That’s sweet, Chance.  And you’re a sweet boy.  You risked yourself to help me the other day.  It’s nice that I can count on you and know you have my back.  That makes me feel safe.  And I see that you try to be a good person.  I don’t begrudge you for being humble, shy, or overly conservative.  It’s cute.  Adorable even.  Now come around behind this sofa and rub my shoulders.  Let me teach you how to touch a girl without falling all over yourself.  There’s a right way, and there’s a very right way.” 

  “I… okay.”  He moved around behind the sofa and put his hands on the backrest, as if waiting for instruction.  “I don’t know how hard or gentle to be.”

  “It depends on the mood and how a woman is feeling.  I like a bad boy that’ll be gentle only for me, sure, but the intensity has to go up before the end of the night.  You know?  But this is just a backrub.  So you need to be firm.  Now put those hands on my shoulders, hmm?” She eased the robe open at the top, somewhat, and wiggled it down so that the collar was around the top of her biceps.  “I can see you’re the kind of boy that needs a walk-through for the first time.  So follow my directions.”

  “Sure, right okay, sure.  What do I do first?”

  Karla grinned inwardly.  “First, use the backside of your fingers and brush my hair away, so that your fingernails only just barely brush against the skin of my upper back.  Just brush it aside.  This is more about touching the skin than moving the hair at this point.” 

  Chance nodded slowly, not trying to seem overly eager, or childishly zealous.  He held his breath and reached to her soft blond locks.  The boy used the backside of his right hand, pushing the canary tresses towards her shoulder.  As instructed, the tips of his fingernails grazed over her skin, just barely. 

  “Mm, good.  That’s not because I’m fragile… The reason you’re just barely touching is because it’s a tease.  Like a hint of a promise of things to come.  Now, do it again, as if you had to go back for an errant tendril.” 

  “Tendril…?”

  She grinned again.  “Must be those romance novels I read.  Go on.”

  “Okay,” he said, his breathy whisper only barely audible.  His heart pounded in his chest.  He made another pass.  His fingertips skimmed over her smooth skin just beneath the nape of her neck.  He inadvertently exhaled in a slow way, trying to keep himself from bursting inside. 

  Karla shivered.  “Nice addition.  Something overly sensual about the feeling of a man’s warm breath on my skin.  Now, gather my hair together, so that it follows my spine.  Then place your hands on my shoulders, firmly, but not aggressively.” 

  He gathered her hair in his palms then sifted his fingertips through one of the ‘errant tendrils’ she spoke of, earlier.  He smoothed it out then brought his palms to rest on her shoulders, offering a manly touch without being forceful or over-firm.  “Like this?” he murmured.

  “Just like that,” she replied.  “Now close your grip over my shoulders.”

  “How hard should I…?”

  She cut him off.  “Imagine you’re reaching for a little girl’s hand to walk her across the street.  You want to be firm enough that she won’t be able to dart out into traffic, but gentle enough not to hurt her.” 

  Chance closed his teeth over his bottom lip, gently, and closed his fingers over her body.  His touch was firm and sure, but with a hint of tenderness.  He took the initiative to begin kneading her shoulders with his palms.  He fell into the affectionate ministrations, using his fingers and thumbs to caress. 

  She released a breathy sigh of content.  “There you go.  You’re better at this than you realize.  Go a hint firmer.  Now, you’re doing this because my shoulders need this.  But you’re also doing this because you want to touch me, right?  Think about it, hon:  You wanting to touch me is what makes it a sensual act.  That’s the passion I mentioned earlier.” 

  He couldn’t think of any reply that would have been appropriate to the occasion.  Instead, he began to cup and caress her shoulders.  His hands worked outwards, to the top of her biceps, then back to her shoulders.  Chance’s thumbs came to rest at the nape of her neck and his fingers instinctively curled, resting at her collarbone. 

  Karla shuddered in delight.  “Do you like your hands on my neck like that?”

  “What?  Oh… I uh…”

  “It’s okay.  I like your touch, sweetheart.” 

  “Heh.  O-Okay.” 

  She smiled.  “No, sweetheart.  Don’t say, ‘okay.’  I want you to acknowledge that you’re into this.  Say something like…”

  He cut her off and said, “I’m glad you like it as much as I do.” His tone was genuine and honest. 

  Her eyes sparkled.  She looked up at him with a brilliant smile.  “Perfect.” 

  Chance used his left hand to gently tilt her head forward.  He captured a lock of her hair and tucked it behind her left ear.  His fingertips brushed against the top of her ear, then down against the lobe with just a hint of touch.  He placed his palms upon her shoulder again. 

  However, instead of doing the same thing as before, he brought his hands to the top of her back and began to push inwards, rubbing the muscles around her shoulder blades.  He trailed his thumbs over her spine, up to the nape of her neck, then moved his hands back up to her shoulders, just exploring her skin, and her tone body.  “Not to break the mood, but you know what’s weird?”

  “What’s that hon?” she asked in a forgiving manner. 

  “You know how… what I mean to say is…”

  “Just spit it out.  I’m not going to judge you for your naivety.  Just don’t break the mood.”

  “No, it’s not that.  Well, it might be.” 

  She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Go on, I’ll let you slide, young Padawan.  What’s on your mind?”

  “You know how, if you remember something, you get the feeling like you’ve done it before?”

  “Have you?  …Done this before, I mean?”

  “No, it’s the exact opposite.  That’s why I said it was weird,” he said in a soft voice.  “I get the feeling like, I am sure that this is the first time I’ve ever touched someone else like this.  Like I can remember wanting to know what it would be like to touch someone like this.  I’m confident this is my first time.”  He paused, realizing how the last sentence sounded, then he quickly added, “…Giving a back massage.” 

  “You’re not giving a back massage,” she told him. 

  “I’m… not?”

  “No.  You’re learning how to put your hands on a woman who is willing to accept your touch.  I’m not just doing this for you, either.  I really do want someone to work the knots out of my body.  I’ve been sitting on this sofa for the last day and a half.  I’m stiff.  But I can’t do much of anything until I’ve healed up.  Or I risk making my injuries worse.  You’re helping me, yes.  But I’m telling you to take advantage of touching me by letting yourself enjoy it.” 

  “I’m sorry you have to explain everything.  I know that kind of kills the mood.”

  “Not necessarily,” she murmured. “And don’t apologize unless you’ve done something truly wrong.  Regret can be a sign of weakness, sweetheart.”  Karla hung her head, enjoying the firm return of his touch on her shoulders.  Her bangs brushed her cheeks and she sighed again, in contentment.  “There you go.  You like touching me, don’t you?”

  “Yes, very much.” He swallowed again, but his throat wasn’t as tight as before.  He came to realize that he was actually starting to relax around her.  The fact he was able to please her and that she liked his touch as much as he liked touching her gave him a feeling of accomplishment.  Instead of asking what to do next, he simply said, “I really like being able to let my guard down around you.” He trailed off, looking for a way to apologize for his shyness but he remembered what she said about regret being a sign of weakness.  Instead, he said, “I’m glad you see through my nervousness.”

  “You put me at ease, Chance.  You’re a genuine person.  And one day you’ll make a good husband and a great romantic.” 

  Karla’s cellphone rang from across the room.  She lifted her head and glared at the noisy device.  “It’s attached to the charger.”

  “Yeah?  You want me to get it for you?”

  “I can’t teleport something that is interconnected to something else.” 

  “How do you mean?” he asked, drawing his hands back from her shoulders.  He made his way around the sofa, towards the ringing phone. 

  “I could probably teleport a knife out of someone’s leg, but I could never teleport a bone out of their body.  Even Ethan, who is a master at teleportation, couldn’t remove someone’s heart from their chest, or an eye from a socket.  Sorry to be graphic… but you know what I mean.  If it’s interconnected, it becomes all one object.” 

  Chance stopped by the phone and turned around to face her.  “Have you tried teleporting the cellphone and the charger?  Together?  A socket is only holding the prongs the way I would hold onto your hand.  It’s not interconnected.” 

  Karla eyed him for a moment, tilted her head, and then smiled.  “Let me try.”  She lifted her right hand, palm up.  A muted glyph began to incandesce ever so slightly beneath the skin.  The phone appeared in her hand, charger attached, with the wire and transformer block on the sofa.  “Nicely done, Chance.”  She grinned and told him, “The pins in the charger spread open in the jack on the phone, kind of like a zipper.  But you’re right, I could take the plug out of the wall.” 

  She yanked the charger out of the bottom of her phone, flipped it open with a smile, eyes locked on his, and answered.  “Hello?” Her voice sounded somewhat sultry, but the tone was meant more for the boy than the caller. 

  Chance swallowed again, feeling a blush rise up in his face.  A warm, fuzzy sort of feeling filled him.  He explained it away in his mind as a rush of adrenaline, but deep down he knew it was something more that grew in his heart.  He reminded himself of Methos’ warning then swallowed again, pushing the pessimism away.  He smiled back at Karla and sat down on the recliner, reaching for his back of sunflower seeds. 

  “Nathanial, calm down, sweetheart.  What’s wrong?”  She listened briefly then announced, “It’s just a bruise, now.  I can handle it.  Now tell me what’s wrong?  Chance and I will come save the day.” 

  Chance closed his eyes and relaxed, trying to clear his mind so he could relax the pounding in his ribcage.  He focused on the thudding of his heart in his throat… He took a deep breath and let it out, calmly… and then perked at the sound of a man’s voice.  It said, ‘Karla, do not get attached to the boy.  I mean it.  Do not get emotionally attached.  Now, I need you to do something unorthodox for me.’ 

  The boy swallowed and sat up a bit.  His pupils constricted and he remained extremely still, not sure exactly what it was that he heard. 

  And then Karla spoke again.  “Okay, define unorthodox.  What do you need me to do?” 

  Chance’s eyes widened.  His brows lifted and he blinked several times with surprise on his face. 

  Karla paused, shifted the phone to her other ear, and then said, “That’s …yeah.  You’re right, that is unorthodox.  Seriously?  Natalia Kincade?  What about you?  Or Kalen?  Or both?  That woman hates me for cozying up to Kalen all those years ago.”  She listened to the reply over the line then scoffed.  “Yeah right.  I’m telling you, she hates my guts – I don’t care what you think.  She’s not a fan of me and my drama.  Why does she need my help?”

  Chance tried relaxing himself again but didn’t hear the voice anymore.  After a moment, Karla said, “Okay, okay.  GOD.  Okay.  And yes, I know J. Conner Parker’s wife is knocked up.  Lucky bitch.  Okay, okay, I shouldn’t call her a bitch.  She’s a nice lady.  But she’s going to have kids with the world’s undocumented richest man.  Anyway, I get it… they’re all buddies and stuff.  I’m a team player, here, so I’ll do my civic duty and do Natalia’s dirty work.  But just this once.  It’ll be at least another day or two before I’ll be back at my best – you’ve been warned.  Any-who, what’s the job?” 

  She began making notations in the air with her finger.  A pencil lifted up off the coffee table and, without the hand of an owner, began writing on the envelope of a utility bill.  ‘Natalia is a meanie-head.  Do surveillance tonight and tomorrow.  Make that rich-ass bloodsucker buy pizza and a nice hotel room from which to do said surveillance.  Natalia sucks.  Niall was a doo-doo head, too.  Steal the mirror back from the EC. It will be in an armored car.  Expect major resistance.  It will be moved on June 20^th at 9pm local time.  Ask for money from Natalia for her stupid mirror.  What is that woman’s twisted obsession with mirrors anyway?  Flaunt the new BF in front of Kalen.  Hope he gets jealous.  Get an expensive meal, to go, on Natalia’s dime.  Burn a bag of crap on her front porch; ring the bell, teleport away.  Stick the mirror up her butt.’  The pencil suddenly dropped back to the coffee table. 

  “Yeah, Nathan, I heard you.  I wrote it all down with a few extra side-notations for my personal reference.  I got it, babe, relax.”  Karla reached up and played with a strand of gold that ended in a curl.  “I’m all over this.  Tell Natalia she’s footing the hotel bill, the food, all of it, because this is a business transaction and I have bills to pay…” The succubus trailed off.  “Pardon?”  She grew quiet and listened.  “Okay, fine.  I accept the job.”

  Then pencil levitated from the table and scratched out the previous notes then, beneath, it jotted, ‘Be nice to Natalia for a little while.  June 20^th at 9pm local time.  Stay away from Kalen, give Nattie her stupid mirror.  Get grub on Nattie-boo’s dime.  Try to smile and be nice to her.  Seduce, manipulate and kill whoever has the mirror.  No witnesses allowed.  Nothing that will trace back to the ankle-biter Kincade Family.  Remember to smile and be nice – lot of money is involved.  Don’t act stupid later, no matter what chiding remark Natty comes up with.’  Again, the pencil dropped back to the table. 

  Karla crossed her legs then asked aloud, “When do we start?”  She listened to the reply with a smile.  The succubus snorted, feigning disdain. “Yes, we.  Methos said the boy stays with me at all times.  He’s my responsibility.  And I like his company, okay?  So don’t get all up in my shit – he’s coming with me…. So… when do we start?”  She smiled then said, “Okay.  Thanks, old man.  Love yas.”  She snapped the phone shut and grinned at Chance. 

  “…What?”

  “This job is worth half-a-million bucks, babyboy.  Five hundred big ones.  I’ve never had that much cash at one time in my entire life.  I can pay off the condo, put some savings aside, and buy that new iBook thing that my nerd friend leaked to me.  He works for The Fruit.  Told me it’s going to be really awesome, that it’ll have built in Wi-Fi, and…”

  “Right, right.  The laptop that comes out next month.  So what’s the job?”

  Karla tilted her head and smiled.  “Listen to you.  Talking like this is normal behavior.  Heh.  My how you’ve adapted in just under three weeks.”  She folded her arms then immediately winced and unfolded them, trying to retain her smug demeanor.  “Well… there’s a mirror.  Apparently the Esoteric Council claims it can be used to make contact with the so-called Celestial Realm.  As Nathan said, it sounds like ‘bullshit.’  That’s his favorite word, I swear.  Anyways, the EC confiscated the mirror from some self-important vampire.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, because contact with gods and demigods is strictly forbidden.  And this mirror supposedly allows non-deities to reach out to talk heavenly horseshit with the bigwigs.  I don’t believe a word of that nonsense.  But for a half-a-million bucks, I’ll bring it to Natalia and giftwrap it for the bloodsucker if that’s what she wants.” 

  “You mentioned Mister Parker and his wife, earlier.  Are we working with someone? Or is it just us?” 

  “Oh, heh.  JC Parker and his wife, Sinopa, are in Rome right now.  So it’s up to us; because I can teleport objects, I make a good secondary thief by default.  So I need a hot looking cat burglar suit.  And you can be my sidekick.”

  “Oh… cool.  You get to be Charlie’s Angels, and I get to be Little John by proxy. Well… it is what it is.  Let’s go, Robin Hood, so we can steal from the rich …and give to the rich.” 

  “I wonder if Robyn Hode only tortured the rich for Marian’s amusement.  Let’s face it, hon, any self-respecting yeoman would act for the entertainment of a rich maiden; to pique her interest.” 

  “You’re supposed to be immortal, right…?  Was Robin Hood real?”

  “Probably, but way before my time.” 

  “And Maid Marian?”

  “Babe, this isn’t Disney.  There was no Marian.  There was no Clorinda.  In fact, the character Marian was a badass for a while, but the Victorian era came, and changed her to some damsel in distress.  But in some older versions, she was a crack archer, a sword fighter, and, in some, she wasn’t a virginal maiden.  She was full of sugar, spice, and ‘awesome,’ baked at three-fifty until golden brown.  But, no, babyboy.  Robyn Hode was real.  Over a few hundred years, different writers made him tame by giving him love, scruples, and proper hero guidelines.  The real Robyn was way more kickass and rebellious.  So, you ready to go?” 

  “Oh, sure.  Aren’t you going to pack?”

  Karla laughed aloud.  “Lesson one – when doing a job like this for a rich person, you buy all new clothes on their dime as part of your ‘expenses.’  Then you bring the clothes home and add’em to your wardrobe.  There’s an angle to all this, sweetums.” 

  “Oh.  Well then.  Now what?” 

  “We get plane tickets and call for a taxi to pick us up.”  She stood up, pulled the robe up from her shoulders to her neckline, adjusted it, then grinned at him.  She waved her hand at the blouse and bra on the armrest.  Both pieces of clothing disappeared.  “Let me go and find something cute to wear.  Use my phone and call a taxi company to come pick us up.  We’ll just get tickets at the airport for whatever the next flight is.” 

  “Where are we…” He stopped abruptly then tilted his head.  “Are… are we going out of the country?”

  “Yes, my little mind-reader.  So it’s a good thing I told Nathanial you’re coming with me.  He has an hour to find someone in The Community who can pull the strings necessary to get you a passport.  And the clock is ticking.  Don’t worry, babe, he’ll come through.  He’ll call Methos and Isaac.  They’ll make it happen.  That’s what they do… they make things happen.” 

  “Oh… okay then.”  He went over to the coffee table, picked up the glass that still had a hint of yolk at the bottom, and carried it to the kitchen.  “I’ll see you after your shower.” 

  “How’d you know I was gunna…?” She quirked a brow then smiled.  “You’re getting better with that head-game thing, huh?”

  “I… I guess.  I just figured.” 

  “Yeah, well, you figured right.”  She offered a wan smile, headed for her bedroom.  But before she got to the door, she dropped her robe right in the middle of the floor, so that he could see her full back.  The skirt went to the floor as well, leaving nothing more than hunter green panties, which matched the bra she wore earlier. 

  Karla continued through the doorway, glanced over her shoulder at him with a devious smile, then continued forward, beyond his line of sight.  A moment later, he heard the shower hiss to life clearly enough that he knew she left the door to the bathroom wide open. 

  Chance captured his lower lip between his teeth, put the glass in the sink and swallowed down the tightness in his throat.  “Geeze.  She’s so brazen.”