Confessions of a Tired Padawan

You toss and turn in your bed a few more times before looking at the clock to confirm that it really is an ungodly hour. You sigh and decide there´s no use in pretending that you are one of those people who actually sleep the whole night through. You throw off the covers, and the cool night air assaults your skin through your nightgown. You get up to find the robe that is crumpled in a pile somewhere on the floor. Finally finding it with your feet, you pull it around yourself, plunging your arms into the soft, thick sleeves. You cinch it snugly around your waist, rub your eyes a few times, and pat down your bed-head hair. Finding your trusty notebook and pen, you slowly walk out of your bedroom door, making a stop for slippers before your feet hit the cold, marble floor.

In this wee, small hour of the morning – like most mornings – you wander through the now silent halls of the JH Temple. You prefer to take the stairs instead of the elevator down to the ground floor in order to absorb the darkness and calm. Once down the stairs, you take a walk through the party room, quietly amused at the remnants of the previous night´s festivities. You hear the faintest music and laughter in your head – ghosts of the night before. You had escaped the melee early, so you can only imagine what to make of the empty bottles of chocolate syrup scattered carelessly across the floor.

Exiting the room, you venture to your favorite place, the garden. You open the large doors and step out to breathe in the fragrant air. It is the courtyard of the building, and you can look straight up at the Coruscant night sky, mostly dark and subdued except for the odd shuttle or two flying by. The air up there is most likely too cold for comfort, but thanks to the height of the building and inconspicuous heaters close to the ground, the atmosphere is very inviting.

You take your favorite chair at your favorite table, open your notebook, and lay your pen down on the blank page. You unfocus your eyes and gaze into the array of green bushes just beyond you and inhale their clean scent. It is a moment of summons, undemanding and relaxed. Fortunately for you, the Muse is generous this night, and within minutes she speaks. You obediently pick up your pen and transcribe her bidding. Your awareness tunnels down to the paper, the pen, and the sight of your hands.

“Uh-oh, she´s writing again.”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of that voice. You place your hand over your chest and turn to see the familiar face. “Don´t do that,” you say emphatically.

“Do what?”

“That whole stealthy Jedi bit. You´re going to give me a heart attack.”

“I´m sorry,” he says, taking a chair at the table. “I thought you heard the door open.”

“No, I didn´t hear a thing.”

“Aaahh,” he responds, a sly grin forming on his face. “Enraptured by your subject matter, eh?”

“More like tormented,” you say dryly.

“Your stories a torment? Never.”

“Obi-Wan, get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Why?”

“Because I´m not writing that kind of story.”

“Oh.” He is silent for a moment. “Why?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “There are other things to write about, you know. Besides….”

“Besides…” he says, trying to lead the answer out of you.

You shrug your shoulders, “I just…I dunno…. It´s too weird now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well….” You stop in order to choose your words correctly. “Now that I know you, I just feel weird about it. Before, I was just making it all up. But now that we´re…friends, for lack of a better word.”

“Could there be a better word?” he asks with slight offense in his voice.

“No…. I think of us as friends, I just wasn´t sure—“

“So do I.”

“OK, anyway,” you continue, “now that we´re friends, it just doesn´t seem right for me to write about you in that way.”

He nods. “You bring up an interesting point. You, by far, are the most slippery fish of them all.”

You slump back in your chair. “Excuse me?”

“You know I´ve read all your stories,” he says.

“Yes,” you groan and hold your notebook up in order to hide your face. He promptly grabs it from you and lays it back on the table.

“Now don´t be embarrassed. I enjoy your writing very much,” he says.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “But back to me being a slippery fish? Explain before I get offended.”

“Well, you write these stories full of ribaldry, but—“ He stops as you begin to laugh. “What?”

“I´ve never actually heard anyone use that word in a sentence before….except on Saturday Night Live.”

His eyebrows wrinkle. “What?”

“Never mind,” you say with a half-snicker.

He gives you a sideways glance before continuing, “You write this…smut, as you call it, yet friendly conversations while the rest of the world sleeps are the extent of our relationship.”

You roll your eyeballs. “Oh, here we go.”

“Wait, you misunderstand,” he says.

“I was waiting for this men-and-women-can´t-just-be-friends bit. Please, spare me.”

Obi-Wan leans over and places a hand on your arm. “Please let me speak and please listen to what I am saying before you start jumping to conclusions.”

You sigh. “Fine. Continue.”

“I simply find it curious that…. Right or wrong, I formed an impression of you based on the stories you write. I had a picture in my head of how you would look and how you would behave, and you´re not anything like I had imagined.”

You cross your arms in front of you. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

Obi-Wan´s head drops, and he says, “You are impossible.”

“So I´ve been told. Impossible and disappointing. Imagine that,” you say.

He sighs. “What I mean is that I expected you to be throwing yourself at me—“

You snort, “Gee, don´t knock yourself out with self-flattery.” His flustered face begins to amuse you, and you can´t help but smile.

He points a finger at you. “You are enjoying giving me a hard time.”

You laugh. “Well, somebody has to. It is my duty as your friend to take pot shots at your ego.”

“And for some strange reason, I enjoy it,” he says with a goofy grin. “But, seriously, do you understand what I am saying? I thought you would be rather untamed, but you are not. It is not a judgement, merely an observation. I value our friendship very much.”

You nod, “Yes, I understand. You are not the first person I have confounded.”

“But….” He puts his hand up, “Now don´t take offense.”

“Uh-oh,” you say.

“I…I know that you are more reserved than some of the other girls. I just…wanted to make sure that is the reason for your…. I mean—“

“Is everything about sex with you, Obi-Wan?”

“Of course not! In fact, that is part of the reason I enjoy our friendship so much.”

You quickly exhale loudly. “If your precious ego can handle it, I´ll have you know that I´m more than a little burned out on the creation of Obi smut.”

He sighs, “Me, too.”

His tone finally causes you to stop your defensive attack. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” he says just the way you would say it when something eats at you.

“Whoa. Tell me what´s going on,” you say.

“It´s just….” Then he shakes his head. “Oh, never mind.”

You sit up in your chair. “No never mind. You tell me what´s bothering you.”

“Well, being a Jedi is rather difficult business sometimes,” he says.

“I can imagine. All those bad guys and inter-galactic conflict and such.”

He shakes his head. “No, not that. I mean….” He looks around rather nervously.

“You mean…. What? Bad food at the Temple? Too much boring meditation?”

He chuckles. “No, no. I mean….”

“I believe you said that already. Tell,” you insist.

“…with….with women,” he says sheepishly.

You stare at him with eyebrows raised. “You have difficulty with women?”

“Well, in a manner of speaking…yes,” he says hesitantly.

“What? Too much action leaving the wells dry and the general unable to perform his duties?”

Obi-Wan sits straight in his chair and asserts, “I assure you, my concerns have nothing to do with my physical abilities.”

You put both hands up. “OK, calm down. Geez, you men are so sensitive about that.”

“A Jedi never loses his abilities,” he quips.

“Fine. But it´s nothing to be ashamed of if you do. We women are very understanding.”

He smirks. “How nice for you. But a woman´s understanding is not required where I am concerned.”

You cock your head to the side. “So what´s your problem then?”

“Well….”

“Obi-Wan, quit skirting the issue and tell me. I promise, your secrets are safe with me.”

“Until you decide to write another story about me,” he huffs.

You throw your hands up in the air. “OK, now you´ve offended me. I´m trying to help you, but just forget it.”

“I´m sorry,” he says.

“I take my friendships very seriously, you know.”

“I know,” he says.

“And I´d never betray a confidence,” you say.

“I know.”

“So spit it out or go away,” you say as only you can.

He sighs and says, “There is just alot of pressure when it comes to women. They expect a lot from a Jedi. Not that I don´t enjoy giving a lot, you understand.”

“But all this reading desires and fulfilling fantasies can wear a guy out,” you say.

His eyes brighten. “Exactly. I´m constantly meeting everyone else´s needs. What about my needs?”

“You sound like a woman,” you say.

“I thought you were trying to help me,” he says.

“Sorry. But if you don´t enjoy it, why do you do it? Why come here, especially?”

“I do enjoy it. I really do,” he says convincingly. “Especially the girls here. Qui-Gon and I are the most envied Jedi around. The experiences we´ve had here have been the most amazing—“

“Too much information,” you say, holding your hand up.

He continues, “There is just another side to it. We have these exhausting missions and then come home to women throwing themselves at us.”

“Yeah,” you say sarcastically, “it sucks to be you. Cuz I know if I had gorgeous men throwing themselves at me, I´d just want to run away and hide.”

“I do not believe this is helping me,” he says.

“Yeah. OK. Smart ass me is put away for now.” You clear your throat. “So what you´re saying is that, although you enjoy all the attention and enjoy being fantasy man and serving and pleasing and all that, there´s a part of you that remains unfulfilled.”

He nods. “And tired.”

“And tired,” you say as you pick up your pen and begin to scribble.

“What are you doing?” he asks. “You said you wouldn´t write this.”

“I´m just doodling,” you defend. “It helps me think. When are you ever going to trust me?”

“I do, I do. I´m just afraid of anyone here ever learning this.”

“So why don´t you just say something?” Express your needs. Unlike you, we can´t do the mind whammy bit,” you say.

“I love how you reduce centuries of practice and years of my own training into the term ‘mind whammy.´”

You chuckle at the way those words sound coming out of his mouth and then give him a big cheesy grin. “I aim to please.”

“I understand,” he says with a soft smile.

Suddenly the light goes on. “Ah-HA! That´s your problem,” you say.

“What?”

“You are a Jedi. You live by this centuries-old code of serving others…serving the Force. You are taught to forego your own needs for the needs of others.”

He nods in agreement.

“So,” you say, slapping your hand on the table, “let´s talk about your needs.”

“Why are you awake? You should be asleep at this hour,” he says.

“As should you,” you say. “Don´t try and change the subject. Tell me what you need.”

“What I need?”

“Yes. What does Obi-Wan need?”

“I don´t know,” he says.

“Sure you do,” you say. “You just need to give it some thought. For instance, you come home from some mission or whatever….” You watch his amused face and say, “For the sake of this discussion, yes I´m reducing your noble, heroic activities to a whole lump of ‘whatever.´ Now, you´re home. What happens then?”

“Well, we would address the Council.”

“And then what? Once all the Jedi business is done and you get a couple days off to recoup, what is the first thing you really want do?”

“Bathe,” he says.

“OK, good. Bath or shower?”

“Shower, of course.”

“Shower, of course? Have you even tried a bath? I mean, I know it´s kind of a chick thing, but a bath can do wonders for the soul. You sit in the warm water, close your eyes, and just kind of float there,” you say wistfully.

“Sounds lovely,” he says.

“But if you´re all grimy, I recommend a quick shower first, and then a bath in lavender or chamomile.”

“Well, we don´t have bathtubs,” he says.

“We do,” you say. “Although, you´d probably have company around here. What you need is solitude in a bath.”

“I suppose so,” he says.

“Don´t give me that look like I´m an amusing circus act. I´m serious,” you say.

“Now who´s too sensitive?”

“Shut up, Obi-Wan.” You watch as he tries to hide his amusement at your eccentricity. You give him that token look of yours and continue. “So what then? You´re squeaky clean. What´s the next thing you want?”

“Sleep.” He leans forward a bit. “I would give anything for a full night of uninterrupted sleep.”

“I hear ya, brother.”

Obi-Wan stares at you. “And why don´t you sleep? What keeps you up in the middle of the night?”

“Angst and masochism,” you say. “But we´re not talking about me, we´re talking about you.”

“Right,” he says. You can feel a slight tingling on your forehead, and you know he´s trying to get in there and figure you all out. You simply lock your mind up and give him that not-gonna-happen look. The sensation leaves you, and he speaks again. “You would not believe the racket Qui-Gon makes. He snores louder than a bantha. It´s awful when we´re on missions, but even at the Temple I can hear him through the wall. And, of course, he insists he doesn´t.”

You smile. “Yeah, I´ve heard him down the hall. In fact, we all have. Go ahead, tell him that. And I think Kayla either has infinite patience or the ability to sleep through a train wreck.”

“She must,” he says.

“So, we have one bath and a decent night´s sleep,” you say. Two things that you want, and two things that are attainable.”

“How?”

“Well, that´s the part you have to figure out,” you say.

He shifts in his chair. “Oh. Well, I don´t really have time for all that.”

“Now who´s impossible?”

“I´m just very busy,” he says. “Besides, I´m a Jedi, remember? Selfish indulgence is frowned upon.”

“So what do you call coming here and getting your rocks off with several women?”

His face goes blank for a moment. “You have such a way with words.”

You snort, “OK, fine, what do you call it?”

“You don´t have to make it sound so crass,” he says.

“Ah, right, that whole Jedi chivalrous bit. Fine, be romantic, whatever,” you say. “The point is that you need to be aware of what you want. When it crosses your mind, write it down. Whatever it is. If it sounds like something you´d enjoy, make a note of it. Remember, you can´t really help others until you help yourself first.”

“You really should have your own talk show,” he says.

“Again, so I´ve been told,” you say.

Obi-Wan looks up at the sky that is beginning to brighten. “I really have to go.” He looks back at you. “But thank you.”

“Anytime. I want you to work on this now,” you say.

“I will,” he says.

“Liar.”

He smiles and says, “I will see you in a couple of weeks.”

You nod. “Drop by when you get back.”

“Don´t we always?” he says with a grin.

You laugh, “You are so trampy.”

He just shakes his head at you and walks away.

“Be safe,” you call out after him.

He turns and smiles, “I will. Get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” you say with no enthusiasm.

“I mean it,” he says. “Or I really will force it out of your head.”

“Oooohh, scary Jedi,” you say in a small, pouty voice.

“You are—“

“Impossible. Yes, I believe we´ve covered that already,” you say.

He smiles. “I give up. Take care,” he says as he walks backward through the doorway and then disappears into the hall.

You stand up, stretch, and then find a comfortable-looking chair. Actually it is the same chair you always pick. You sink into the soft cushions and close your eyes, drifting off to a most entertaining dream of a needful padawan.

Part 2

Now that you have everything ready, you wonder how you will actually accomplish this. And part of you wonders why you are really doing it. Friends do for each other, right? That is an acceptable argument at this point. You know the mission is over, and they have returned. Now all you really need to concern yourself with is how you will get him here.

You skitter down the hallway until you come to a large set of doors at the very end. You knock hard, but it only sounds like a quiet tapping against the heavy wood. A few moments later, the door slowly opens and a gracious face meets you. “Kayla, I need your help,” you say as she opens the door to let you in.

After telling her your plan, she gives you an inquisitive glare. “I don´t get it.”

“What do you mean?”

She brushes loose strands of fiery red hair out of her face. “All your talk and all your smut…and all you want to do is this? I mean, it´s a great seduction setup if you were actually planning on seducing him. And I have it on very good authority – very good, if you know what I mean – that he would jump at the chance to—“

“Please, I´d rather not hear that,” you say.

“Why? What´s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. I just…I dunno, I have my reasons and my own way of doing things. I want to do this simply because…because I want to. Maybe it´s kind of dorky and somewhat pubescent in its innocence, but it´s important to me. Please, could you just call over there? I don´t want to make a big deal of it for his sake.” You give her a please-don´t-ask-me-any-questions look.

“Yes, of course, I´ll call over there. And, no, you´re not dorky. You have a good heart, that´s all.” A terribly evil grin forms on Kayla´s face. “But you are missing out on a helluva lot of fun. And trust me, the man would not turn you down.”

You raise an eyebrow and smirk. “Does he turn anybody down?”

Kayla waves her hand at you. “That´s not the point,” she says as she walks over to the videophone.

“Then what is the point?”

She points directly at you, “You are im-“

“Impossible?”

“One of these days….” Kayla says in a warning tone.

“To the moon, Alice?”

She puts her hands on her hips and walks toward you, the loose emerald fabric of her gown billowing behind her. “One of these days he´s going to stop being so gentlemanly with you,” she purrs, her evil grin returning.

“Just make the call, please,” you say.

“Fine,” Kayla says, turning back toward the phone.

You step out of the camera´s range as the sound of the connection is made. A few seconds later, the image of Qui-Gon flips onto the screen, and Kayla turns it on. “Hello, Master,” she drawls.

“Hello, there,” he says in a deep voice. “It is a pleasure to see you again, little one.”

“And you,” she says. “I was wondering if Obi-Wan was around.”

Qui-Gon smiles, “I did not know you had developed such an interest in my padawan.”

“Don´t be silly,” Kayla said. “Somebody here needs him.”

Qui-Gon chuckles, “What a surprise. Anyone in particular, or shall I just send him in there asking who needs him?”

In an instant, Kayla has run behind you and pushed you in front of the screen, much to your dismay.

A large grin forms on Qui-Gon´s face. “Well, hello,” he says in a tone that implies everyone else is in on some big secret you know nothing about.

“Hi,” you say.

Kayla steps in and says, “She needs him to come over right away. It´s an urgent matter.”

“It´s not that urgent,” you say.

Kayla pushes you out of the camera´s range. “Qui-Gon, tell Obi-Wan that she needs his help very much. It is very important and it cannot wait. The longer he delays, the worse her situation will become.”

You give her that what-the-hell-are-you-doing look, but she ignores you completely.

“Kayla,” Qui-Gon says in a more concerned tone. “Is she alright? Is there some kind of trouble?”

“I cannot go into right now. Suffice it to say that she desperately needs his help. Please tell him to come quickly,” she says as you grab your hair and grit your teeth at her words.

“Of course, I will send him as soon as he returns,” Qui-Gon says.

“Thank you,” Kayla says as you collapse on her sofa and pull all the pillows over your face to scream. “And don´t you stay away too long, either.”

“I wouldn´t dream of it,” Qui-Gon says. “I will see you this evening.”

“Until then,” Kayla says and switches off the phone.

You spring up from the couch. “What was that all about?”

Kayla laughs, “Just having a little fun. And curious to see how fast that boy can move.”

“The longer he delays, the worse my situation will become? I desperately need his help? This isn´t about me,” you say.

“Oh yes it is,” she says poking her finger into your arm.

“Listen, he told me he wanted to be undisturbed for an entire night,” you say. “I´m just trying to help him out.”

“I know,” Kayla says. “Don´t be so sensitive. But good luck getting him past the throngs.”

“That´s why I don´t want to make a big deal of this,” you say.

“I´ll keep an eye out for him, and I´ll let you know when he´s here, alright?”

“Thank you,” you say.

“But if you´re really going to let him be alone all night, where are you going to be?”

“It´s a big place. And I don´t sleep much anyway,” you say.

“You really need to work on that,” Kayla says. “Maybe a little lovin´ would—“

“Thanks, Kayla, gotta go now,” you call out as you head toward the door.

“Oh, what are we going to do with you?” she says with a laugh.

“Tie me up and let Obi-Wan have his way with me?” you say.

“See! There you go again! All talk, no action!”

You grin, “Gotta love me, huh? Thanks again for your help,” you say as you wave playfully and exit into the hallway, hearing Kayla groan at your impetuousness.

Part 3

You lay on your bed with your head buried in the pillows, a notebook open to a blank page clutched in your hand. The Muse has left you forever, you just know it. A knock at the door brings you some relief from your self-pitying angst.

“Come in!”

The door opens and Kayla´s head pops in. “He´s here. I left him downstairs waiting all nervously. I think he really cares about you. Wanted to know what terrible circumstance had befallen you,” she says with a grin.

“Oh, terrific,” you say as you stand up. “The girl who cried wolf, I´ll be. I´m blaming this all on you, Kayla, I just want to warn you.” Kayla shrugs her shoulders and quickly disappears. “I´ll be down in a minute,” you call after her.

You hurry into your small bathroom with the gloriously large bathtub – only the best at the JH Temple – and turn on the tub faucet. You grab a bottle of lavender bubble bath and add it to the steaming water. As the bubbles fill the tub, you slap yourself on the head. “Only girls take bubble baths, you goon. Shit, now what?” You sigh, but realize it´s too late to stop and start over. Besides, what does he know?

You consider lighting candles and turning off the light because that is the best way to take a bath after all. But you think better of it, realizing how that would look to him. To a man, there's a fine line between a relaxing atmosphere and a pre-coital atmosphere. So you leave the light on, and head downstairs as the tub fills.

The instant he sees you walking into the foyer, he hurries toward you. “Are you alright?” he asks.

“Yes, I´m fine,” you say apologetically.

“Qui-Gon said you were in some kind of trouble,” he says, his eyes boring into you.

“Aw geez, I´m sorry. Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all. I´m afraid you´ve been duped,” you say.

“What?”

“I asked Kayla to call over there to have you come over,” you look at him a little nervously. “I think she and Qui-Gon are weaving tales, that´s all.”

“But you did request that I come here?”

“Yes,” you say.

“What for?”

“I…” you look up at him and suddenly feel like a complete, frickin´ idiot as you consider the fact that you are running a bath for this man as a friendly gesture while there is a temple full of women ready to jump him as a welcome home present. If there were a Goober Head of the Century Award, it would go to you. “Never mind,” you blurt out and turn around to walk away.

It takes him a few seconds to process your strange reaction before he catches up to you. “What is going on?”

You stop walking and turn to face him. “Remember the last time we spoke?”

“I remember it well,” he says.

“And we were talking about—“ you stop speaking as you see other women gathering in the hallway to listen in. Not one comfortable with speaking telepathically you start walking again. “Follow me,” you say as you head for the stairs.

As you reach your floor and walk quickly toward you door with Obi-Wan following you, you say out loud, “This is so stupid.”

“It is not uncommon for you to make no sense, but I really am not understanding all of this,” he says as politely as he can.

You swing your bedroom door open and march into the bathroom to turn off the water, which has just about reached the top. You walk back out and see him standing in your doorway. “Well, come in,” you order.

He bites his lip and takes a few steps forward and shuts the door.

“Well, there you have it,” you say, extending your arms to the side. “My brilliant plan.”

Obi-Wan scratches his head and says, “Um, you´ll pardon me for still being very foggy regarding this situation. I would do that…ahem…mind whammy, but your countenance suggests that might be inappropriate at this time.”

So that´s what Jedi do when they´re confused. They become exceedingly polite. Suddenly you laugh out loud. “OK, pay attention,” you say.

“I have been,” he says quietly.

“The last time we spoke, we were talking about your needs.”

“Yes.”

You point to the bathroom. “There´s your solitary bath.” You point to the bed. “There´s your uninterrupted night of sleep.” You raise your arm in the air and point down at your head. “There´s the dumbest girl who ever lived.”

A smile like daybreak spreads across his face. “I don´t know what to say.”

“I can imagine,” you say. “This would not be the opportune time for sharing.”

“Why?” He walks toward you with that smile still on his face. You can´t recall ever having seen him look that way. “You did this all for me?”

“Well, yeah. I knew on your own you´d never do what I told you, so I figured I had to make you do what I told you,” you say. “At least, it seemed like a good idea.”

“I think,” he says placing his hands on each of your shoulders, “that this is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.”

“Well,” you say, “it´s just a bath and a quiet place to sleep.”

“No, it´s not,” he says. “Thank you.”

“You´re welcome,” you say. “Take it easy and enjoy yourself.” You step away and grab your notebook and pen.

“You´re leaving?” he says.

“Well, it wouldn´t be solitude if I stayed,” you say.

He shakes his head. “I appreciate this, but I will not displace you.”

You laugh. “You are not displacing me. Besides, I never sleep anyway.”

“You need to work on that,” he says.

“Funny, I think there´s an echo in this building,” you say.

“At least stay for a little while so we can chat,” he says.

“Your water is getting cold,” you say.

He walks over to the bathroom door and peeks in. You move to stand behind him. “Only girls take bubble baths,” he says.

You push him into the bathroom and shut the door. “See if I ever do anything nice for you again,” you say through the door. You shake your head as you hear him snickering.

“At least stay until I come out,” he says.

“Why?”

“Well, what if somebody comes in here?”

“Trust me,” you say, “no one would even think to look for you in here. That´s why I´m giving you my room for a night.”

“But what if they stumble in here by accident looking for you?” His voice turns slightly whiny as you hear the sloshing of water.

“Big baby,” you say. “How´d you ever get to be a Jedi?”

“They thought I was cute,” he says.

“Shut up,” you say as you lay on the bed and try to find something to write about.

“Come in here and make me,” he says.

“Give it up, saber boy,” you say.

“Can´t blame me for trying,” he says.

“Yes, I can,” you say. “Now be quiet, you´re supposed to be relaxing,”

“Alright,” he says. “But this experience feels a little too feminine for me.”

You giggle and drop your face to the mattress. So maybe the bubble bath was a little much. You close your eyes and say a silent prayer to the Muse and then grab your pen and stare at the blank page in front of you. And stare. And stare. Many thoughts and interesting ideas run through your head, but none of them make that harrowing journey from your brain, down your arm, and to the paper. So you just continue to stare.

“How long are you going to stare at that paper?”

His first utterance causes you to gasp and your body to jerk. You grit your teeth and say, “I told you not to sneak up on me.”

“I did not sneak up on you. I made plenty of noise. You just weren´t paying attention,” he says.

“What are you doing out here already?” you ask.

“It has been half an hour,” he says.

You look at the clock in disbelief. “Writer´s block sucks,” you say. You turn to see him dressed in his pants and undertunic…at least that´s what you assume it is. You get up from the bed and grab one of his hands and examine his fingers. “Yes, I´d say you are sufficiently pruned. And you smell nice and sweet, too.”

“Thank you so very much,” he says sarcastically.

You glare at him. “No one said you had to repeat this experience. You should just make a habit of trying new things once in a while.”

“So should you,” he says.

You fling your hand in his general direction to sweep away his comment, walk to the bed, and pull the covers back. “Get in.”

“Now? But it´s still early,” he says.

“You want my honest opinion?” Before you give him the opportunity to answer, you continue, “You look like shit.”

“Again, I thank you for your kindness,” he says.

You shrug, “What are friends for?”

“Your abuse makes me wonder that all the time,” he says.

“You need sleep. Get in,” you say.

“Very well,” he says as he walks over and sits on the bed. “I can´t believe I´m actually letting you tuck me in.”

“I´m not,” you say as you walk to the other side of the bed and grab your notebook and pen.

“What are you writing?” he asks.

“I have no idea,” you say.

“Then why are you trying to write?”

“Because I need to,” you say.

“Ah, I understand,” he says.

“No, you don´t,” you say.

“You´re right,” he says as he lies down.

You smile as his eyelids suddenly become droopy the minute his head sinks into the pillow. It is a strangely intimate moment as you watch him pull the covers – your covers – over himself and settle in. “Sleep well,” you say. “I´ll see you in the morning.”

“Promise me you will sleep tonight so I don´t feel so guilty about taking your bed,” he says with a tired drawl to his voice.

“You´re too tired to feel guilt right now,” you say quietly as you slowly exit the room.

He makes a noise that sounds somewhat like a “yes.” But before you even close the door, you can hear him surrender to slumber.

There you sit, like you always do, unable to sleep…but this night unable to write as well. You stare up at the night sky. You consider a movie, but at this hour it will only give you a headache. You think of Obi-Wan sound asleep in your bed. “Lucky bastard,” you say quietly. But you smile at the thought of a good deed done. “I´m a nice person after all,” you say. “Who knew?”

You get up and stroll around the garden. Walking causes you feel the extent of your exhaustion. You walk over to your favorite lounge chair and stretch out on it, the solid wood frame creaking slightly as you shift positions. You curl up to protect yourself from the slight chill, wishing you had remembered your nightgown and robe. You bring your knees up under the skirt of your dress and thankfully feel sleep overtake you.

Sometime later you are gently summoned from a very bizarre dream involving a dancing Yoda, Scooby Doo, and high tea. It is all you can do to open your heavy eyelids. Through the haze of your eyelashes you see a figure crouched down next to you, but your perception is dull. You groan your disapproval of being awakened.

“I´m sorry. I hate to wake you, but I thought you might like your bed back.” You feel a hand on your arm, “You are freezing. Come along, it is too cold down here.”

Your shoulders are pushed forward, and being suddenly seated brings your mind into focus. “Obi-Wan? What are you doing….supposed to be sleeping….”

“It is nearly dawn. I have to return to the Temple.”

Your feet touch the cold stone as you are raised to standing. “Shoes,” you say in a half-whisper, your brain still clouded from sleep. Obi-Wan bends down to slip them on your feet, and your eyes beginning to shut again. You feel an arm around your back leading you forward.

You have the slightest notion of walking down the hall and stepping into the elevator. At the instant of standing still again, you begin to fade and lean heavily against Obi-Wan, your face planted against his chest. You tell yourself to remember in the morning what he smells like. It takes you a few moments to actually realize that you´re probably drooling on him, but before you can do anything, he´s turning you around and pushing you forward out into another hallway.

Finally you arrive in your room. He walks behind you, his hands on your waist directing you forward. You crawl clumsily onto the bed, your body shivering as your cold skin meets the warm sheets. You crash down onto your side and collapse your head onto the pillow, which smells of bubble bath and padawan.

He tucks you in snugly under the covers and then runs his fingers across your hair. “Sleep now,” he whispers.

“Mm-hmm,” you respond and close your eyes. The last sensation you feel before unconsciousness is the chaste touch of soft lips to your forehead.

Part 4

“Something productive. That´s it, I´m going to do something productive today,” you say definitively as you slouch on the couch in one of the many TV rooms watching Kegis and Rathie Gee pound each other over the head with sarcasm and insults. And people wonder why you like them.

“Yep, productive,” you say again. “That´s what I´ll be.”

“Why?”

You look up to see Kayla standing in the doorway. “Oh, I dunno. Seems like the thing to do.”

“Well, you should at least get dressed,” she says.

“Because?”

“Because Obi-Wan is here,” she says.

“I thought they were gone,” you say.

“They´re back,” she says.

“Oh,” you say, zoning back into the television.

“Um, hello,” Kayla says. “You want me to just send him in here?”

“Oh,” you say surprised and sit up. “He´s here to see me?”

“Uh, yeah,” she says.

“Why?”

A smile breaks out across her face as you adjust your flannel pajamas. “I haven´t the slightest idea,” she says with a chuckle.

“Oh…well…yeah. Send him in,” you say.

“You sure you don´t want to get dressed first?” she asks.

“Oh c´mon, Kayla, girls run around here half naked most of the time anyway,” you say. “I don´t think he´ll be offended by my jammies.”

“Um…that wasn´t the point I was trying to make, but suit yourself,” she says. “I´ll tell him you´re in here.”

“Okey-dokey,” you say and then laugh at Kegis´ ridiculous rant about Coruscant shuttle drivers.

“What´s so funny?”

You look over and see Obi-Wan standing in the doorway. “Oh, just stupid TV,” you say as you grab the remote and turn it off. “What´s up, Jedi Man?”

The strange look he gives you turns into a chuckle. “You are amazing.”

“Would that be in a good way or a bad way?”

He puts his hand on his hip. “Well, I couldn´t exactly say. I just don´t think I´ve ever been willingly welcomed by a woman looking like you do right now.”

You stand and pick up a pillow from the couch and throw it at him. He puts his arm up and bats it away with a laugh. You march toward him and command, “Outta my way, you.”

“I simply meant—“

“I know what you meant, pony boy,” you say. “Did I insult your appearance the last time I saw you?”

“As a matter of fact, you did,” he says.

“Oh, right,” you say. “Well, that makes us even.”

“But I wasn´t insulting you. I merely meant that it´s nice that you aren´t so obsessed with your appearance like some women are,” he says innocently enough.

“Uh-huh,” you respond. “No insult there,” you add sarcastically.

“I am not insulting you,” he says. “Actually, you look fine to me, and your ease with my presence makes you all the more attractive.”

“But you´d prefer to find me dressed as a naughty schoolgirl.” You try to hide your smile at his shocked expression. “Yes,” you say nodding, “you strike me as the naughty schoolgirl type.”

He smiles nervously, “Well, I—“

“Don´t answer that. You´re a gentleman, remember?”

“Right,” he says nodding his head. “I keep forgetting that part.”

“I noticed,” you say, crossing your arms in front of you. “So what brings you here?”

“I—“

“Wait, let me rephrase. I know what brings you here, here…to the den of luscious babes and all, but what brings you here,” you say pointing to the floor, “to talk to me?”

He looks at you without responding.

“Well?” you ask.

“Oh, may I speak an entire sentence now?” he asks with an eyebrow raised.

“I´m waiting,” you say.

“Well, I wanted to thank you for what you did for me,” he says.

“You´re very welcome,” you say. “Was that all?”

“Yes…I mean, no. I didn´t just want to say thank you, I wanted to do something for you as a token of my appreciation,” he says. “Let´s say…let me buy you lunch?”

“Sounds great,” you say. “When?”

“Um, today? That is why I am here,” he says.

“Right,” you say and then look down. “Well, I suppose this means I have to get dressed today.”

“Yes, I would think that a good plan,” he says.

“This is perfect. I was just saying that I was going to be productive today. Getting dressed and going out to eat is certainly a productive activity, right?”

“Well….” he says.

“Sorry, I keep forgetting that you´re the overachieving Jedi Man,” you say and then smile. “You must think me a total lazy bum…. Don´t answer that. I´ll run upstairs and change. Be back in a flash…or two,” you say as you scurry down the hall and up the stairs.

Now looking fully presentable to the outside world in your respectable dress and tamed hair, you wander down the sidewalk with a padawan in tow.

“So where would you like to go?” he asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “Doesn´t matter to me. Where do you want to go?”

“Oh no,” he says, wagging his finger at you. “You´re the one who says you have to think about what you want and do it. So it´s your turn. You pick the place.”

“Well, alrighty then,” you say. “But it´s not very gentlemanly of you to use my words against me.”

He looks down at the ground, “I´m sorry.”

You give him a playful elbow poke on his arm. “Hey, I´m just teasing, you know.”

“I know,” he says and then a grin forms on his face. “And since we´re friends, that means I don´t have to be a gentleman.”

You laugh, “That´s the spirit!”

“So, where would you like to go?”

“How about….here,” you say as you suddenly stop in front of some kind of restaurant.

“What is this place?”

“I have no idea. But here we are. So let´s go in. New experiences, remember?” you say.

“Well, it looks alright. Whatever you like,” he says.

The two of you enter and pick a table near a corner window. After quickly perusing the menu, you order and then get on to more important subjects.

“So what´s next on your list?” you ask.

“What list?”

“The list! The list of what Obi-Wan needs,” you say.

“Well, what about your list?” he says.

“My list? Listen, I live at the JH Temple, write whenever I want, have access to free ice cream and chocolate, and am a contributing editor to Hot Jedi magazine. What could I possibly need?”

“Well—“

“You, on the other hand, run around saving the galaxy or whatever and provide archetype sex to anyone who asks for it—“

“I do not!”

“Alright, not ANYONE. But the whole reason for this discussion in the first place was YOUR complaint about no one caring about your needs because you´re always having to play stud guy,” you say.

Obi-Wan stares at you in stony silence.

“Uh-oh. What´d I do?” you say.

Obi-Wan looks down at his food and then drops his fork on his plate with a loud clang. He looks up and starts in a little louder than you´d like, “Is that what you really think of me? Some swashbuckling, gallivanting, playboy who beds women across the galaxy at the drop of a hat?”

Words escape you as they always do when you cross the line. “I—“

“Is it? Is that what you think of me?” His tone is demanding and a little too angry.

“No, of course not,” you say quietly.

“Oh really?” he says with a sharp inflection.

“Yes, really,” you say.

“Well, I´m getting just a little tired of your insinuations,” he says.

You exhale loudly and say hesitantly, “I´m sorry.” His piercing gaze is very difficult to hold. “It´s just that…well…you do…participate in all the…the…the stuff at JH.”

“The stuff at JH? Again, your way with words never ceases to amaze me,” he says. “It´s called fun. Maybe you should try having some fun sometime. Perhaps you wouldn´t be so quick to judge people if you would just take your own advice and relax a little.”

“I do not judge people,” you say a little louder now. “I just choose not to participate in certain things.”

“It is fine not to participate. It is quite another to take shots at those who do,” he says. “I think I have been quite generous with you. I´ve never made one comment about how you live completely walled off from everyone else, roaming the halls at night, keeping yourself awake for whatever reason instead of making any attempts to connect with others. I don´t understand the way you live, but I respect your choice to do as you please. You should at least respect mine.”

“I do,” you say. It is all you can say, and you look down at your entwined fingers in your lap. This unexpected assault leaves you rather bewildered.

But he continues. “If you have some issue with me or how I behave, I do not mind discussing it. But I do mind your cheap generalizations and writing me off as some brainless gigolo.”

“I don´t. I´m sorry if I—“ You have to stop speaking to swallow the lump in your throat. You clench your jaw tight and repeat your mantra for the moment over and over in your head: I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.

“I don´t mind your teasing,” he says. “I know it is meant in jest. But you have crossed the line on this issue. I have tried to understand you, but in this regard I cannot. I can only conclude that you are unhappy with yourself in some respect, which results in this jealousy you have toward others who aren´t as burdened or tightly wound as you are.”

Fiery tears spring forth from your eyes. “Where the hell do you get off talking to me like this? You don´t know the first thing about me. Now who´s insulting who?”

“I didn´t mean to insult you—“

“Oh, so it´s OK for you to call me a jealous, uptight bitch, but it´s not OK for me to provide amusing – and not judgmental from my perspective, mind you - commentary on your chocolate-covered orgies?”

The customers surrounding you fall silent, and Obi-Wan goes into spin control. “Alright, I was out of line.”

“Damn right you were.”

“I believe we are just having a miscommunication here,” he says.

“Heh, yeah, not used to actually having to TALK to women, are you?”

If looks could kill…well, you´d be on your way to the morgue.

“That is exactly what I´m talking about,” he growls.

“Fine, you´re right,” you say. “You´re a slut, and I´m a prude. Nice and simple that way, isn´t it?”

“You do not know how fortunate you are that I am even letting you talk to me this way,” he says.

“Letting me talk to you? Letting me? Well here, Obi-Wan, try this on for size. You…you…” You hate it when you get this worked up. The proper words absolutely will not come to you until approximately three hours from now. You stand up, knocking your chair over. “You have really,” to your horror, your voice and face breaks into sob mode, “ruined my day,” you squeak as your throat clenches up and your stupid, idiotic stressed-out, sleep-deprived tears flow freely. You curse the fact that PMS never existed in your fictional smut world as you kick the chair out of the way and storm out of the restaurant in a manner for which you know you´ll suffer the humiliation for years to come.

You march quickly down the street, trying to ignore all passers by as you wipe the tears from your face. Determining this the worst day on record, you grind your teeth together and ignore the pleas in the distance asking you to stop. Of course, it doesn´t take him long to reach you, and you stop abruptly as he blocks your path. “Leave me alone,” you growl.

“No.”

You try to step around him, but he steps to block you. Your frustration only mounts as he inhibits your escape.

“I am so sorry,” he says. “I do not know what came over me in there. I thought it beyond my capacity to hurt you, but I see I was wrong. My only defense - and it is not a noble one – is that I feel comfortable enough with you to speak my mind. It is something I am not allowed to do a good share of the time, and our friendship has allowed me that refuge.”

You refuse to look at him, staring straight at the cement below and clenching your fists. “Ease of conversation does not equal ripping my head off when you are upset with something I say,” you say resolutely.

“I know that. I don´t know what made me do that. I was feeling somewhat hurt that you perhaps viewed me in a less than favorable light, and—“

“Do you think I would have been concerned at all about your needs if I didn´t think well of you?”

Obi-Wan sighs, “I know that. I apologize for my words. I didn´t mean them.”

“I think you did. They had to come from somewhere,” you say, still staring at the ground.

“No. It´s just that you are very difficult to figure out,” he says.

“Maybe you should try asking me instead of assuming the worst about me,” you say. You feel his hand touch your head. “Don´t touch me,” you say through clenched teeth. His hand recedes.

“What do you want me to do?” he says.

“Get out of my way,” you say.

You hear him sigh, and he steps aside. You take off down the sidewalk as quickly as you can, not sure exactly what had just transpired between the two of you, but certainly in no mood to give him the benefit of the doubt. You breathe a tiny sigh of relief when you round the corner, and the JH building comes into view. With a few more steps, you are flying through the front door.

“Hey, how was your lunch…uh-oh,” Kayla says as you come into view.

You look up to see Qui-Gon standing next to her. Although you haven´t spent much time in conversation with him, you are overcome with words for him now. “Your padawan is a self-righteous, arrogant, clueless bastard!” Satisfied, you continue to march on.

“Yes, I know,” Qui-Gon says as you stomp up the stairs. “I suppose I´d better go find him and practice his apology.”

With that you turn back around and march down the few stairs and back toward Qui-Gon. “I don´t want to see his face or so much as hear his name. You tell him that if he even comes near here, I´ll….I´ll…RRRRRR!!” You turn around and clomp back down the hall and up the stairs, all the while your brain screaming at you to just shut your mouth and give the guy a break.

You slam the door of your bedroom and take a flying leap onto the bed and sob. A few moments later, the door opens. You hear someone walk closer and then see legs walk to the side of the bed and then feel a hand on your back. “What happened?” Kayla asks.

“I hate hormones,” you wail.

“Ah,” Kayla says with full understanding. “Don´t worry. It´ll be alright.”

“I am SO embarrassed,” you say.

“And we´re embarrassed for you,” Kayla says.

“Thanks…I think.”

“Anytime,” she says, patting you on the back.

Part 5

You jump in your seat in front of the computer as the timer goes off. You run into the tiny kitchen and play with the timer buttons until the incessant beeping shuts off, and you check the frozen pizza in the toaster oven. Unsatisfied with its soft texture, you slide it back in for a few more minutes and saunter back to the computer to transcribe your newest creation from your notebook. This is the basement of the JH Temple, where the offices of Hot Jedi are housed. The place doubles as a computer lab for anyone who wants to use it. Of course, you are the only one down here at this time of night.

The timer screams again, and you jump to check the pizza. You slam on the timer button and relish the quiet again.

“Mind if I join you for a moment?”

A shrill gasp escapes your lungs, and you close your eyes.

“I—“ He stops speaking as you raise your hand toward him and shake your head. “I—“ You push your hand more emphatically toward him, never actually looking in his direction, and he stops speaking.

You take a couple of deep breaths. Finally calm, you turn your head to smile at him and say, “Hellloooo.”

“I really thought you heard me this time,” he says.

“Not a problem,” you say swooping your arms in the air in front of you. Then you remember your dinner. You open the toaster oven, spear the pizza with a fork, and slide it onto your plate. You take a bite of it and proclaim, “Crap.”

“Pardon me?”

You turn to face Obi-Wan again. “Crap. Crap is what I get to eat. I´m broke, so I eat crap.” You shuffle over to your computer chair. “Everyone thinks being a starving artist is some romantic notion,” you say taking a big chomp of your pizza. “Ridiculous,” you say with a full mouth. “Stupid frickin´ editors don´t like what I write? I go hungry. How´s that for romance?” You continue, your words muffled by the pizza in your mouth. “I don´t write what people want to read. That´s what they say. Well, I write plenty of things people want to read. Ask anyone around here! Ask the Hot Jedi subscribers!”

Obi-Wan pulls up a chair next to your desk. “I´m sorry that it isn´t going well.”

“Ah, it´s alright. Just makes me a little wacky. Keeps me up at night sometimes and a little weird and walled up like you said.”

His eyes turn a softer shade of blue. “I wish there was a way I could take back everything I said.”

“I know. Me, too.” You smile and then search for the right words. “Hey, let´s say I forgive you and you forgive me.”

He nods. “I´d like that.”

“Great. Problem solved. Heck, you´re easy,” you say and then realize what you just said. “Oh, I didn´t mean easy, easy….” You slam your palm to your forehead and shake your head.

His fingers circle your small wrist, and he pulls your hand away from you face. Then he lightly rubs a spot on your forehead with his other hand, "You shouldn´t do that. You´re likely to injure yourself.”

“Occupational hazard of big mouth possessor,” you say, pretending not to notice the tremor in the pit of your stomach.

His attention turns to your computer screen. “So this is what keeps you awake at nights, eh?”

“Well, if I wake up with an idea, I have to run with it. That, or writer´s block. That can keep me up for nights on end,” you say.

“Why?”

You shrug you shoulders. “Fear of failure or other miscellaneous psycho-babble. But enough about me. You never answered my question.”

“What question was that?”

“What´s next on your list?” You prepare to give him a hard time for not having an answer for you.

“I want to watch a movie,” he says.

His words stop you abruptly. “Oh…well…that´s, that´s great….”

He gives you a smug I´ve-left-you-speechless look.

“Uh, any particular movie?”

“No. Anyone you have is fine,” he says.

“Anyone I have?

“Yes. You´ve told me on several occasions that when you can´t sleep you sometimes watch a movie. Any of those movies would be fine,” he says. “I´d like to watch a movie and eat some popcorn.”

Laughter unleashes from your body.

“What is so funny?” he asks, unable to keep from laughing at your spontaneous outburst.

“You have no idea how funny it is to hear your voice say, ‘I´d like to watch a movie and eat some popcorn.´”

“As always, I am so pleased to provide amusement for you,” he says.

“I´m sorry,” you say, still choking on giggles. You stand up and lead him out of the room. “C´mon, let´s go upstairs and see what we can find.”

“OK, this one is your basic heartwarming chick flick,” you say waving the box around. “And this one is your basic testosterone-charged action flick. Both are respectable on their own merits.

“Wow, you present quite a quandary. Which do you prefer?”

You examine both videos and then toss them back into the cabinet. “I don´t feel like either one of these.” You look through the video collection. “Hmmm….do you scare easily?” You look up at him and then quickly say, “Nah, you wouldn´t. Forget this one. It´s only good with people who freak out.” You scan the titles some more. “Ah-HA! The Holy Grail! Perfect!” You slide the tape in the VCR and plunk down on the couch next to Obi-Wan who clutches the giant bowl of popcorn on his lap.

You, of course, laugh hysterically through the entire film that you´ve seen well over a bizillion times. And then you laugh even more hysterically when he asks, “Why is it funny to see a dismembered knight bouncing around on one leg?” Not that he could actually pose the question without laughing himself.

“So it was good, eh?” you say when the movie finally ends. You grab a handful of popcorn, which you could eat all night, and get up to put the movie back.

“Perhaps I missed something in that killer rabbit sequence,” he says.

You turn on your heel, feeling rather evil. “Don´t be such a fuddy-duddy,” you say and sling a piece of popcorn at him.

His eyes narrow, and he throws two pieces back at you.

“Hey,” you say as you grab a pillow and hurl it at him.

“Oh, now you´ve done it,” he says catching the pillow and standing to attack position. You quickly grab another pillow and whack him with it as you give an evil cackle. Not to be outdone, he smacks you with his pillow. But you are an expert at this pillow game and grab hold of his pillow, ripping it out of his hand and tossing it across the room. You turn to hit him again with your pillow, but he grabs it. Not to be easily defeated, you clench it tightly and play tug-of-war with it.

“I don´t think this falls into my list of needs,” he says, easily flailing you around the floor as both of you battle for possession of the pillow.

“Sure it does,” you say and attempt to give him a quick shove. Unfortunately for you, his stance remains firm, and you bounce off his body and fall backwards, losing your grip on the pillow and crashing down to the carpet.

“I win,” he says with a smirk.

“You don´t play fair,” you say.

“Who said I had to?” he says, grabbing your arm to help you to your feet.

“Good point,” you say. “I sure don´t.”

“I noticed,” he says.

You smile and flop down in the corner of the couch, curling your legs up and burrowing in. “Why are you here?”

“What?” He sits down next to you.

“Why are you here watching silly movies with me in the middle of the night? Surely you have better things to do,” you say.

“Like what?” he says.

“Uh, like sleep,” you say.

“Are you going to make me ask you again why you don´t sleep at night?”

“Look, it´s no big mystery,” you say. “I just can´t sleep. I may fall asleep, but then I´ll wake up and stay awake.”

“But you sleep during the day,” he says.

“Well, not all day,” you say.

“Yes, but you seem to fall asleep just before dawn and stay asleep well into the daylight hours,” he says.

“Alright. You´ve found me out. I´m a vampire. There it is,” you say. His face gives you that familiar perplexed look, and you say, “Never mind. Dumb joke.”

“So why are you afraid of the dark?”

“I´m not afraid of the dark,” you say. “I spend lots of time sitting in the dark. I couldn´t do that if I were afraid of it, could I?”

“Then why can´t you sleep at night?” he says.

“I just can´t. Why are you giving me the third degree on this?”

“Let me help you,” he says.

“Excuse me?”

“Sleep. Let me help you sleep. And stay asleep,” he says.

“Are you drunk?” you say.

“I am serious. Let me help you.” He pauses for a moment and then continues, “It´s on my need list.”

You shake your head. “No, really, it´s fine.”

He stands up and grabs your hand, practically yanking you off the couch. “Let´s go.” You stumble along behind him as he drags you upstairs to your room.

Once inside your room you say, “This isn´t necessary.”

“Lie down,” he orders, giving you a look that tells you not to argue.

“Why so bossy all of a sudden?” you ask.

“Wasn´t it you who said something about knowing I wasn´t going to do what you told me to do, so you´d just force me to do what you told me?”

“Hmmm…. You´ve got me there,” you say.

“So, either you get into bed or I´ll put you there. Your choice,” he says.

That little part of your brain toys with the idea of him forcing into your bed, but being the control freak that you are, you decide to do it of your own volition. “I have to go potty first,” you say and then immediately add, “Perhaps I didn´t need to share that.” You turn quickly, grab a nightgown, and head into the bathroom.

You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror for a few moments, acknowledging that this situation has become a little weird but also very interesting. Then you stick your tongue out at yourself and change into your nightgown.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you find the bed neatly turned down and Obi-Wan standing at the end of it. “Get in,” he says.

“Alright, already,” you say. You climb under the covers and lay down on your side.

Once you are fully in the bed, Obi-Wan lies down on the other side of the bed, on top of the covers, and props himself up on his elbow, his head resting on his hand. “Close your eyes,” he says.

You comply, but then open them again. “I can´t close my eyes with you lying there looking at me,” you say.

He puts his hand on your head and says, “Close your eyes.”

This time they close, and you cannot open them again. “Are you whammying me?”

“Yes,” he says. “Now be quiet and go to sleep.”

“Wait,” you say becoming a tiny bit distressed that you can´t open your eyes. “I don´t like this.”

“It´s alright,” he says, his voice smooth and calm. “Just relax.”

Your pulse quickens as you become slightly more agitated. “No, really, I can´t do this. I have to open them. Please.”

“Alright,” he says, and you feel a pressure lift from you, and you open your eyes. He scoots in a little closer to you and rests his head on the pillow beneath him. “What is it?”

“It´s nothing,” you say.

He reaches out his hand and gently strokes your hair and temple. “What are you afraid of?” he whispers.

His eyes, so intent on yours, unnerve you. “Nothing,” you say.

“Tell me,” he says.

“I…I can´t,” you say softly.

“Yes you can,” he says. “Tell me.”

His presence so close to you is both comforting and intimidating. “I don´t know how,” you say.

“Try,” he says.

“It won´t fit into words,” you say.

“Then think it for me. Let down your guard,” he says.

“It´s not a thing to think,” you say. You are not dodging bullets so much as trying to capture something too elusive for definition.

“Then feel it,” he says. “Let me feel it, too.”

“Why? Why do you want to feel this?”

“Because it troubles you,” he says.

“You can´t fix it,” you say.

“I know. But let me understand it,” he says and rests his hand on your cheek. “Trust me.”

You hesitate, having trained yourself for so long to stuff this thing, this fear, deep down, burying it within yourself. Slowly you loosen its leash and give it more room to grow. It rears its head quickly, and you take a deep breath to calm yourself. A tiny tear forms in the corner of your eye and runs down your nose. Obi-Wan wipes it gently away and moves in to touch his forehead to yours.

“I see it,” he says.

“Do you?”

“Yes,” he says. “Thank you for making me understand.”

“I don´t think it can be understood,” you say.

“Perhaps not.”

You sigh heavily, grateful to have shared this with someone, even though it is something so organic that it will probably never leave you.

“But sharing it can ease the burden,” he says. “Now sleep. Let me carry it for you.” He gently caresses your hair, lulling you into relaxation. “I won´t let it trouble you tonight.”

“Alright,” you say as you close your eyes, knowing you are safe for now and free to rest.

Part 6

You pull the blanket a little tighter around your shoulders and pick up your pen to scrawl a few more lines of your quickie smut fic. Alright, so you lied a little about not actually writing the stuff anymore. But they´re fun to write, and they certainly help you purge all those thoughts you don´t want him to see.

A few minutes later, you hear a quiet knocking. You look up and around and then toward the door. You give a soft chuckle at the sight of Obi-Wan waving to you through the glass door. As the door opens, you quickly shuffle the pages in your notebook to hide the evidence.

“I didn´t startle you this time, correct?” he says, rather proud of himself.

“Correct,” you say with a nod. “Have a seat,” you say as you stretch back in your chair.

“Why do you sit out here in the cold?” he asks as he sits down.

“I like the fresh air,” you say. “It does get a little chilly this time of year…although why they have to make it colder, I´ll never know. Gonna have to call the climate control people about that.”

“They just don´t want you getting soft, that´s all,” he says.

“Too late. I´m already soft, see?” you say as you poke your stomach through your heavy robe. “Too much ice cream. But it´s good to store up some fat for the cold season.”

“You are not fat,” he says.

“Ah, whaddayou know?” you say, flapping your hand at him.

“I´ve seen a Hutt. In person,” he says.

You laugh. “I´m in a good mood, so I´ll take that as a compliment.”

“But I´ll remember your fat stores when it gets really cold,” he adds with a serious tone and teasing look on his face.

“You brat,” you say between chuckles. You scoot a little lower and put your feet up on the chair opposite you. “So, having fun tonight?”

He just looks at you without answering.

“Tell me something,” you say.

“Now I feel fear,” he says.

“Who is your favorite?”

“Favorite what?”

You give him an exasperated sigh and say sarcastically, “Favorite Beatle.”

Again a look - more perplexed - and no answer.

“Duh! Favorite girl,” you say. “In this place, who is your favorite?”

“Even for you, this is an outrageous question,” he says.

“C´mon,” you say. “You have to have a favorite. I won´t tell, I promise.”

“HA!”

“Really! I swear, I won´t tell. Who is it?” you say, bouncing up and down a little.

“You will tell! You will tell all your friends. Besides, I don´t have a favorite,” he says.

“Bullshit,” you say. “And I promise I won´t tell anyone but my Qui loving friends. And they won´t care because they don´t like you. I mean, they like you, but they´re not all jonesing for you. So you see, no hurt feelings.” You watch as his face reveals nothing to you, and you growl, “Tell me!”

“You are a gossip,” he says.

“Am not!”

He gives you that one-eyebrow-raised look.

“OK, maybe a little. Who is your favorite?” you plead.

“You,” he says.

“Liar,” you say. “I promise, I won´t tell a soul”

“Neither will I,” he says smugly.

“Geez, you take this gentleman thing a little too far.” You sigh, “Fine, don´t tell me.”

“Alright, I won´t,” he says.

You snarl at him a little. “Another question. Can Jedi´s fall in love?”

“Of course.”

“No, wait, I didn´t say that right,” you say. “I know they can. But how would that work….I mean…. You don´t live the kind of life that allows for a committed relationship.”

“You are jumping to conclusions again,” he scolds.

“You misunderstand me,” you say. “Your primary commitment is being a Jedi, right?”

“Yes.”

“So that sort of takes you out of the marriage and kids syndicate. It´s not like you can have the kind of life where you live in a cute house with white picket fence and all that,” you say.

“Well, it is not forbidden, if that´s what you´re asking. But neither is it encouraged,” he says.

“Do you think you will ever marry,” you say.

“I do not know. It is not something that I think about,” he says.

“How can you not? Everyone thinks about it,” you say.

“My life is different from yours and most people´s,” he says.

“True.”

“What about you?” he says.

“Me? Oh, I don´t know. I mean, I just assume that I will get married one day. I can´t imagine it now. Not that many good men around,” you say.

“Well, I would imagine that you have to go out and look a little,” he says.

“Now you sound like my mother,” you say.

He smiles. “Is that a problem? I think you need someone to tell you what to do.”

“Next subject,” you say a little louder.

“You look tired,” he says.

“Oh thanks, Mr. Sandman,” you say. “So do you. It´s the best time to talk, I think. People say the most entertaining things when their brains aren´t censoring them. Kinda like being drunk except without that whole lampshade on your head, worshipping the toilet bit.”

“I would love to take you to a diplomatic reception,” he says.

You stick your tongue out at him. “Well, since you´re going to be all tight-lipped about this crowd, tell me this…. Who was your first love?”

“As long as you tell me yours,” he says.

“Deal,” you say.

“Tell me yours first,” he says.

“Why?”

“Because I don´t believe that you´ll tell me,” he says.

“And why should I believe that you´ll tell me?”

“I am a Jedi. Jedi´s don´t lie,” he says.

“You do, too, lie,” you say.

“When?”

“Just a few minutes ago,” you say.

He shifts in his chair and looks you dead in the eye. “I told you, Jedi´s don´t lie.”

“Fine,” you say. “His name was Joe. I was 16 and crazy about him. And he ripped out my heart and stomped all over it ‘til it was nothing but quivering hamburger.”

Obi-Wan´s eyes grows wide. “I´m sorry.”

You shrug your shoulders, “That´s life. Now, your turn.”

“Well, you didn´t elaborate very much,” he says.

“Uh…he had blonde hair, blue eyes, nice smile, played me for a fool, dogged me big time, and left me depressed and pathetic for months. Is that enough elaboration for you?” you say.

“You are rather bitter,” he says.

“Oh wow, big news flash,” you say. “Now, you tell me.”

He takes a deep breath and eyes you somewhat suspiciously.

“All kidding aside, I swear I won´t tell anyone. I´m just curious, that´s all. I wanna hear you say something other than telling me I´m weird or that professional Jedi Man stuff,” you say.

“Her name was Pilara,” he says slowly, drawing out each word as if summoning the memory, her name languidly spilling off his lips.

“I take it you remember her fondly,” you say.

“Yes,” he says with a glimmer in his eye.

“How old were you?”

“Seventeen,” he says.

“Hmmm,” you say. “Jedi girl?”

He shakes his head. “No. She attended a school across the street from the Temple,”

“Oh yeah, that one with the big stone thingies out front,” you say.

“Yes,” he says with amusement. “I would see her come out of the gates every day. She had long, straight hair.”

“What color?”

“Brown. No, not just brown. It was the color of chocolate,” he says.

“Whoa, you had it bad for her,” you say.

He nods and then laughs. “And she had no idea.”

“What?” you ask slightly shocked.

“I approached her once. And she laughed at me,” he said.

“She didn´t!”

“She did.”

“At you? No way!”

“Unfortunately, yes,” he says. “So I would just continue to watch her.”

“Ooohh, stalker Jedi,” you say.

“No, not like that. Just from across the street. She didn´t even notice, or at least I assumed she didn´t”

“Ah, sweet infatuation,” you say.

“Mmm-hmm,” he replies with a smile.

“How did you know her name?”

“I heard her friends,” he says.

“I see. So is that it?”

“Not entirely,” he says with a twitch of his eyebrows.

“Oh goody,” you say as you wriggle forward to hear the good part, resting your elbows on the table.

“One day…. She walked out of the gates with her friends as usual. And then instead of turning at the corner, she crossed the street…while her friends stood there on the corner.”

“She crossed the street? Toward you?” you ask excitedly.

“Yes.”

“Oh my God! What were you thinking?”

“My mind went completely numb. So I just stood there…fidgeted a bit and pretended to be looking at some flowers. Before I knew it, she was there, right in front of me. She stepped forward, and….” He stops and tries to hide a big grin forming on his face.

“And?”

“And…she….kissed me,” he says.

“No! Like a real kiss?”

“Oh yes. And then she simply turned around and walked away without saying a word,” he says.

You make a little squealing sound before saying, “Well, what did you do?”

“I just stood there, dumbfounded. I could see her friends giggling on the corner,” he says.

“A dare, I bet,” you say.

“Most likely,” he says. “But all I could do was watch her walk away. How the braids in her hair danced around on the breeze…how her skirt flipped when she walked.”

“Aaaahh-haaaaaa,” you respond, pointing your finger in sharp jabs toward him.

He pulls his head back sharply, “What?”

“Naughty schoolgirl! I was right after all!”

“Wha-“ Obi-Wan huffs. “That´s outrageous. I´m telling you this nice, private memory, and you´re turning it into something sordid.”

“C´mon…. How her braids danced and her skirt flipped? Naughty schoolgirl,” you say, drawing out the words. “Naw-tay!”

Obi-Wan says nothing, and his face is tight….but his cheeks are slightly, yet noticeably, flushed.

“It´s nothing to be ashamed of,” you say.

“Then why are you laughing at me?”

You take a deep breath. “I´m sorry. Bad me,” you say lightly slapping your cheek. “But really, it´s a perfectly normal – and rather common – male fantasy.”

“Is this the type of thing you would refer to as ‘psycho-babble´?”

“Uh, yeah, I believe this would qualify as psycho-babble.” You pause and then continue, “It´s exactly the type of thing you should add to your list. Naughty schoolgirl. Write it down.”

“I don´t believe I need to,” he says with a sly grin.

You snort and then marvel a bit that you´re actually having this conversation with him. For some reason, guys always open up to you. Must be that little sister in flannel pajamas bit. Or the fact that you can swear as much as they do…if not more.

He makes a quiet, “Hmm,” reminding you that he can easily read you when you´re this tired. “So what about you?” he says.

“What about me?”

“What´s your psycho-babble fixation?”

You laugh at his words, never imagining he would actually sound remarkably similar to you. “It´s too embarrassing,” you say.

“And mine isn´t?”

“No, yours is cute…typical…acceptable….”

“I am feeling fear again,” he says.

“No, it´s not like mine is all twisted or anything—“

“That´s a relief,” he says.

You smirk at him and continue, “It´s just…well…embarrassing for an independent woman like myself.”

“Tell me,” he says softly, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands on his chest.

“I…oh, I can´t,” you say, dropping your head into your hands and shaking your head.

“Alright then, don´t tell me,” he says.

Still holding your face in your hands, you blurt out. “I want to be rescued, taken care of, blah, blah…all that stuff that we strong independent women aren´t supposed to want. I mean, not for real all the time. Not some domineering dolt, but….” You pop your head up and see him smiling gently at you. “I can´t believe we´re talking about this.”

“Neither can I,” he says. “But you shouldn´t be embarrassed.”

“Well, I am,” you say. “And if this ever gets out—“

“I would never betray your confidence,” he says quite seriously. And then his tone turns lighter, “But, you, on the other hand….”

“I am not going to tell!”

“The next time I walk in this place…if I see everyone dressed like little girls, I will come looking for you,” he says pointing his finger sharply at you. “And I will—“ he cuts off his warning as you start laughing.

“You´ll what?” you chuckle.

“I´ll…well….” He sits up straight. “Well, since you are the first woman I´ve ever really wanted to actively threaten, I´m not sure. But I promise I´ll think of something,” he says, playfully wagging his finger at you.

You slap your hands to your cheeks. “Oooohhh, don´t hurt me, big Jedi Man.”

“It´s quite a quandary,” he says. “I´d have to hurt you and then defend you at the same time. You cause me so much difficulty.”

“What would you ever do without me?”

“I can´t imagine,” he says with a lilt to his voice. “Live a peaceful, carefree life, perhaps?”

“Smart ass,” you say.

“Ouch,” he says.

“Waah-waah,” you respond as you stand from your chair. “Well, I´m going to bed, little boy,” you say as you walk past him and pat him on the head, his hair soft but bristly against the palm of your hand.

“Yes, I should be getting back,” he says, rising to walk behind you and following you into the hallway.

You turn from your shared path to ascend the stairs. “Good night,” you say, extending your arm and giving a little wave of your fingers.

“Sleep well,” he says. He raises his hand to graze your downturned fingertips with his, lightly running his thumb along the top of your fingers – a tender gesture before your hand slips away and you both disappear from each other.

Part 7

“So you going to the party tonight, Kim?” you ask as you quickly grab a tissue before sneezing like a truck driver thanks to the cold from hell that won´t go away.

“And miss the chance to capture Mace Windu on film shakin´ his groovethang? Not a chance!” Kim replies from the other side of the low wall that separates your desks in the Hot Jedi office. “And bless you, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you say through your sniffles. “The readers of Hot Jedi will be most grateful to you for this noble sacrifice on your part.”

“Ha, ha!” Kim chuckles evilly. “I have my camera at the ready,” she says jumping from her chair and pointing it at you…only to have the batteries fall out and plunk to the floor. “Uh…that wasn´t supposed to happen.”

“Better fix that before the party,” you say. Then you suddenly hear a rattling noise above your head and look up. “What was that?”

“What?”

“Oh…nothing. Just thought I heard something.”

Kim sits back down and begins typing her feature on Mace. “So you´re going tonight, right?”

“Yeah…if this cold doesn´t do me in,” you say.

“Drugs,” she says.

“Definitely,” you say.

“I just have to find something to wear,” Kim says. “You know how these parties go.”

“I know,” you say with a chuckle.

“I´m thinking of something really Sithly,” Kim says.

“Good plan,” you say. “I think I´m gonna be a smut queen.”

“Woo-hoo!”

You laugh and then hear the strange noise again. “There it is. Did you hear it?”

“Yeah, I did,” she says looking up. “Sounds like it´s coming from the air vent.”

“Hmmm… Well, old building, you know,” you say.

“Yeah,” Kim says. The two of you go back to your projects. A few moments later a louder rattle is heard, and all of a sudden, the vent door comes crashing down on Kim´s desk. She yelps and jumps up as it flips to the floor.

You pop up, “Geez, are you OK?”

“Yeah, it´s not that heavy. Just loud,” she says.

“Let me call upstairs and have somebody call a maintenance guy,” you say. You pick up the receiver and dial Kayla´s extension. “Hi, Kayla, it seems that the building is falling apart down here. The air vent door thingy just about knocked Kim unconscious. No, everything else is AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!” You scream at the top of your lungs and jump up in a panic as something heavy, gooey, and tentacled lands on your head. You are aware of Kim screaming right along with you as you throw the phone down and grab whatever it is and rip it off your head and fling it to the floor. The thing, quite alive, skitters around by your feet, and you hop out of its way as you make little squealing noises.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING?” Kim yells as she grabs you buy the arm and pulls you back from the creature.

“I don´t know! I don´t know!” The thing stops for a moment, and the two of you stop. Then it darts forward and wraps it tentacles around both of your ankles.

“Oh God, it´s gonna kill us!” Kim cries.

You stomp on the center of the creature and it gushes to the floor…but then reforms and withdraws its tentacles and scurries under your desk. “Get a knife,” you yell as you pull Kim into the kitchenette and rummage through the drawers. You hear the pounding of multiple feet descending the stairs. You and Kim each grab a knife and run back into the office area, only to come face-to-face with two battle-ready Jedi, sabers ignited.

“Oh…my…God,” Kim says under her breath.

“Don´t thud,” you whisper back.

Kim only responds with a tiny squeaking noise.

“What is it? We heard your screams,” Qui-Gon says.

“It´s…it´s a…a THING!” you reply. “It fell outta the vent,” you say pointing up with a shaky hand, “and onto my head,” you whimper. You reach your hand up and touch your hair, which is sticky. “Eeeww!” you cry in disgust.

“What did it look like,” Obi-Wan asks.

“It looks like an alien!” Kim says.

“Kim, everything is an alien around here,” Kayla says as she steps forward.

“No,” Kim says. “An alien. Like in Aliens! You know, Ripley and little Newt!”

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan give each other perplexed looks.

You take a step forward. “It was gross. This gelatinous, skinny octopus-type thing that crept around on the floor and grabbed our legs before I stomped on it, and it took off under my desk.”

“There it is!” Kim screams as she lunges after it with her knife. You take off quickly after her, but are almost immediately stopped by a strong arm around your waist pulling you back. You look over and see that Qui-Gon is restraining Kim the same way Obi-Wan is restraining you. And then you see Kayla kneeling on top of a desk looking around madly at the floor.

“It is harmless,” Qui-Gon said, disengaging his saber. Obi-Wan does the same and then grabs the knife from you as you wriggle out of his grasp. Out of nowhere, a skinny tentacle suddenly slithers around your ankle, and you yelp. You stomp it again with your other foot, and it disappears under another desk.

“Harmless my ass!” Kayla yells.

You spin around and grab Obi-Wan by his tunic and growl in his face, “Kill it, Kenobi!”

“We are not going to kill it,” he says calmly. “It means you no harm.”

“It jumped on my head and wrapped its gooey tentacles around my face,” you say through your teeth.

“It is a harmless creature. And we form a symbiant circle with all living creatures, no matter what their species,” he says patronizingly. “This creature, in particular, is attracted to positive life energy. I think it simply likes you.”

You smack him on the chest. “Listen here, Gandhi! That thing is bug squat either way you want to look at it. Either you kill it, or I get my knife back.”

“Why don´t we do this,” Qui-Gon says, “we´ll capture it and take it out of the building.”

“No. No way,” Kayla says, still taking refuge on the higher ground of the desk. “Dead. I want it dead.”

Qui-Gon walks over to her and puts his hand on her cheek. “We´ll take it home with us,” he says.

“Oh, no you don´t,” Obi-Wan warns.

“I meant to the Temple in general, not to our quarters, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon says.

“OK, first of all the Temple is only a block away,” you say. “Second of all, this entire planet is a giant city so what the hell is an icky alien goo creature doing here, and how the hell did it get in our vent?” You hear a loud thunk and turn to see another gooey creature slithering down the wall.

“Another one!” Kim points emphatically.

“Oh, this is perfect!” Kayla yells. “Jelly creatures all over my building!”

“Ladies, just calm down for a moment,” Obi-Wan says. “This is nothing to get excited about.”

“Oh, be a man and just kill the disgusting things,” you say.

He gives you that razor-sharp look, “They may be disgusting to you, but they have a right to live just as any other living thing does.”

“Not in my building, they don´t,” Kayla says.

“And,” Obi-Wan adds, “being a man has nothing to do with killing!”

With a slurpy swooshing noise, the two creatures slide across the floor and wrap their tentacles around Obi-Wan´s ankle. You jump back with a repulsed groan. “Great, they´re your friends now,” you say. You squirm your face as you watch the two creatures pulse quickly on his leg. “What the hell are they doing?”

“They´re humping his leg!” Kim howls hysterically.

Obi-Wan shakes his leg to try to shoo the creatures and gives you a very dirty look as you laugh at him.

“Yes Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon chuckles. “They seem to like you.”

“A little peanut butter with your jelly sandwich?” you say innocently and then erupt into laughter as everyone else does…everyone except Obi-Wan.

With a flurry of movement, Obi-Wan forcefully kicks up his leg, and the creatures fly up in the air. A flash of hot blue light assaults your eyes as his saber ignites, and the two creatures are turned into four crispy critters and bounce dead on the floor. He disengages his weapon, turns to you, and growls, “Happy now?”

You flash him a perfect smile. “Quite.”

Kayla jumps down from the desk and hurries over to Obi-Wan. She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him on the cheek. “My hero,” she purrs and then gives an unforgiving sideways glance to Qui-Gon, who, upon seeing this exchange, strides over to the air vent and peers inside.

“Everything looks fine in here,” Qui-Gon says. “I don´t see anything. But just to be sure, let´s seal off this basement until you can have a specialist come in to inspect it,” he says with full authority. “Now, everyone upstairs, please.”

You turn to Obi-Wan as you hear him quietly smirk at Qui-Gon´s take charge response to Kayla´s affection. You catch his silly grin, but his face quickly changes to a serious frown once he realizes you´re looking at him.

“Oh, give me a break, Obi-Wan Baloney” you sigh as you walk past him and up the stairs.

“You really shouldn´t scream like that unless it´s deadly serious,” Obi-Wan says as he closes the door to the basement stairs.

“Bite me,” you say as you keep walking ahead of him.

“This is not a joke,” he says.

You spin around and say, “I´m going to say this one more time. A friggin´ alien octopus landed on my head while I was minding my own business.” You pat your head again to find the gelatinous goo still soaking your hair. “Aw shit.” You look at your hand and try to find someplace to wipe it…and opt for Obi-Wan´s robe.

“Hey!” he exclaims as you smear him with it.

“Why are you being such a jerk about this?” you ask. “What would you do if something jumped out of the wall and landed on you? Cuddle with it? You would think you´d be a little more understanding where your friends are concerned instead of with some blobby alien thing covered with gummy K-Y Jelly.”

Obi-Wan stares at you for a moment, tight-lipped, and then his eyes shift above you, presumably at Qui-Gon. Then he looks back you again. “You´re right. I´m sorry,” he says, although it sounds more like reluctance than honesty.

“So then I suppose I don´t need to tell them how you killed those all the time in your younger practice days…and still do when the mood strikes you,” Qui-Gon says.

Obi-Wan´s face crumples up in irritation as you snigger at him. He grabs the back of his neck and winces as he moves his head back and forth.

“What´s wrong? Injured patting yourself on the back for the peace, love, and joy award?” you ask.

“I´ll have you know I had to sleep on a rock during our last mission,” he says.

“Don´t you have those little healer people at the Temple to take care of stuff like that?” you ask.

You hear Qui-Gon chuckle behind you, and Obi-Wan says, “Yes, Master, she has a way with words.”

“So you´ve told me, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon says.

You sneeze in response.

Qui-Gon chuckles quietly and then turns to face Kayla. “Obi-Wan and I should be off. But we will see you this evening.” He turns toward you and Kim, “And you as well.”

“Sure thing,” Kim says. “Don´t forget Mace!”

“He would never let that happen,” Qui-Gon says.

“Tell him we´re looking forward to seeing him,” you say.

“Yeah, we´ve got special outfits picked out just for him,” Kim says.

“That´s right,” you answer.

“Hmmm,” Obi-Wan says as he walks around you. “The last time I checked he didn´t have a fetish for women in flannel pajamas, but that could have changed by now.”

You put your hands on your hips. “You underestimate me to an embarrassing extent.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really,” you say.

He turns his head over his shoulder to look back at you with a brat grin and an arrogant look that says he´s got the entire galaxy figured out. “We´ll see,” he says as he follows Qui-Gon toward the door.

“We certainly will,” you say. Then you say a little louder, “No one should ever, ever, throw down a gauntlet to me.”

“We know,” Kayla and Kim say simultaneously.

“I can´t do it,” you say as you slump down to the floor of the JH smut closet, surrounded by a dizzying array of costumes, accessories, and any other possible paraphernalia that any decent smut girl would want. It´s not the attire that´s the problem. It´s the pounding in your head from the Sith germs that are making you think twice about this party.

“Get up, you´ll wrinkle your dress,” Kayla says.

You climb slowly to your feet in order to avoid the inevitable head rush that occurs when you move faster than a slug. “I feel like shit,” you say.

“Take something,” Kayla says as she grabs her outfit for the evening.

“I will,” you say.

She starts to walk past you and then stops. “Wait a minute.” She leads you to the mirror. “Stay there.”

“No problem,” you say. You look at your reflection. The dress is velvet and brocade, walking the line between deep scarlet and burgundy. The bodice is tightened just so, and the skirt of the dress has several layers of different lengths that cascade out at the hips providing the right sway when you walk and revealing the right amount of leg in certain places. A small billow of fabric encircles each shoulder and possesses the proper slippage factor for that appropriate tease of bare flesh coveted by any self-respecting smut queen. The look is somewhat Elizabethan…only tarty. Black stockings cover your legs, the top of the stockings and garter belts visible from certain proper angles when you walk. Your black shoes look more Ava Gardner than royal costume variety, but she was a queen in her own right…and better to emulate a smut goddess for a smut party than some virginal royal.

“You need these,” Kayla says as she slings several necklaces over your head. They are of varying colors and lengths, all accentuating every curve of your flesh. “And these,” she says as she starts clipping thin curls to your own hair, close to your natural color but with a little more shimmer and sparkle…some with glitter, some suggesting the color of your dress but not matching it. The effect is subtle but completes the look.

You take a long look at yourself again. You look positively decadent. “Kayla, you´re a genius,” you say through your stuffy nose.

“I know. Take something,” she says.

“Will do,” you say as you strut off down the hall in search for meds.

An hour later, you are incessantly bouncing up and down on your bed working off that Dayquil buzz. You have that groggy, wired feeling that will only make this party all the more interesting. You can hear the beginnings of the party downstairs, but any good smut queen knows it´s better to be fashionably late.

You flop back on the bed and drift off into a haze until you hear a loud squeal followed by male laughter. The Jedi´s have arrived. You shoot straight up and then wobble from the head rush. You grab your cute little tiara, pin it firmly to your hair, and say to the mirror, “We´ll see who´s the smart ass now, Kenobi.” And then, as tradition dictates, you stick out your tongue at your reflection, saunter out of your room, and down the stairs.

Part 8

You try to hide a triumphant smile as you enter the party and stride toward your friends, which just happens to require a walk past Obi-Wan. You catch his glance out of the corner of your eye as you sashay past, the fabric of your dress providing more come-hither suggestion than any word or look could.

Kim, looking her Sithly best, laughs the minute she sees you. “If you swing your hips anymore, that boy is gonna need crash cart.”

“Well, it´d serve him right for baiting me. That´ll teach him to tell me I can´t do something. I may as well rub it in his face,” you say.

“Oh, I see,” Kayla says, joining the conversation. “And that´s why you´re doing this, just to prove him wrong,” she says skeptically.

“Of course,” you say. “What other motive would I have?”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “So you´re not actually trying to lead him on.”

“Pppphhh,” you spurt, flapping your hand. “Please. I just wanna make him eat his words. That and get him back for being such a wuss this afternoon.”

“A what?”

You turn around at the sound of Obi-Wan´s voice. “Hello, jelly boy,” you say.

“What did you call me?”

“Jelly boy.”

“No, before that,” he says.

“Oh. Wuss,” you say matter of factly.

“I do not appreciate that,” he says.

“Hey, I told you to be a man. But you went all softy over some icky thing that wasn´t even cute. I just calls ‘em as I sees ‘em,” you say, distinctly aware that you shouldn´t be so bitchy, but you blame it on the Sith germs.

“I still do not appreciate it,” he says.

“And I didn´t appreciate your patronizing, holier than thou attitude. You may find this all very amusing being Jedi Man and all, but that thing scared the living hell out of us. Now all I´m gonna think about for days is that icky thing hiding under my covers or in my shower.” You stop when you realize your voice has become a little louder than necessary. “Soooo…. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.” You notice he makes a motion to speak, and you jump in, “And to top it off, you go and insult my appearance.”

He jerks his head back in surprise. “I did not.”

“You did. That crack about my flannel pajamas.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yeah, that,” you say. “Do I ever pick on you for wearing the SAME damn thing every time I see you?”

He gives you a sheepish look and then says, “Well, this isn´t the same thing I was wearing when you saw me last time because, as you´ll recall, you spread…goo, I believe was the word you used, all over me.”

You bite your lips so you will not give him the satisfaction of making you laugh. “Aw hell,” you say as a smile bursts across your face.

Obi-Wan grins from ear to ear. “Forgiven again,” he says proudly.

“Now don´t go getting all cocky on me. If some weirdo creature jumps on my head, you´d better respond appropriately,” you say.

“That provides an interesting visual given some of the people in this room,” he says.

You give him a terse look and say, “Tough Jedi´s only allowed here. No wusses.”

“I promise, I shall not fail you,” he says.

“Okay then,” you say and wave at Jenn as she walks by in her Girl Scout uniform. You turn back to Obi-Wan who has his hands on his hips and a what-the-hell-is-that look on his face. It takes a second before it dawns on you. “Obi-Wan, she´s a Girl Scout, not a schoolgirl. Big difference! And besides, she´s a Master chick. Don´t flatter yourself.”

“How could I ever with you by my side?” he says.

“Ahh!” you respond, offended.

“No,” he chuckles. “I´m sorry, I didn´t mean it that way. Truly, I didn´t. I mean that you would never give me the opportunity to inflate my own ego. Really, I promise,” he says, still laughing.

“Oh fine,” you say. “I´ll believe you this time.”

“And I think,” he says and then pauses. “I think that you are causing quite a bit of envy standing here next to me.”

“Oh please,” you say. “We girls are not a jealous bunch. Share and share alike, and all that.”

“No, I meant I am the one being envied at the moment,” he says. “I concede to you. I did underestimate you. You look quite…quite….”

“Left you speechless, have I?” you say sarcastically. “Don´t bother to finish. I´m afraid to hear it,” you say.

“Oh,” he says. “Well, it would have been very complimentary.”

You snort as you notice – for not the first time – that his eyes wander down the front of you. You place a finger under his chin to bring his attention back up. “Eyes are here, braidiac,” you say pointing to your eye.

His cheeks turn an interesting shade of red, but before he can respond, Kim calls out, “He´s here!” and she runs past you with her camera. You turn to see Mace Windu entering the room.

“Hellllooo, ladies!” Mace says as Kim snaps away with her camera and Jenn flies past you waving a big box of cookies in the air. As if on cue, the music suddenly changes and a cheer erupts throughout the room.

You turn back to Obi-Wan. “Sorry, gotta go shake my groovethang. But the fuddy duddy table is wide open over there,” you say pointing to the corner, knowing that you´ve never seen this man dart to the dance floor…at least not sober. You turn away and run out to the floor because no one can pass up dancing with Master Windu.

The room floats around you as you join the crowd…the effects of the cold meds no doubt. Mace eats up the attention while the other Jedi´s just kind of stand around and loiter. No one cuts in on Mace´s song even though there are plenty of women on the floor.

The song finally ends, so a few of the younger Jedi´s take the opportunity to get loose. You stay with your friends, all pointing to each other as you sing, “Yoooouu can daaance! You can jii-hive! Having the time of your life! ooooooooo! See that girl! Watch that scene! Diggin´ the dancing queeeeenn!!”

Your body begins to tell you to take a little break, but the next song starts, and you just can´t leave because of the groove. It is a party, after all. You can suffer tomorrow. As you find the beat of the new song, you giggle as a few more Jedi´s take the floor to the tune of this manly song, as they usually do. You take a step back and ram right into a body. You turn around to apologize and discover to your great shock that it´s Obi-Wan. He steps forward and you to back up, but he places his hand on your back and brings you forward, forcing you to dance closer than normal for this uptempo song as the lyrics begin:

I would walk ten miles on my hands and knees
Aint no doubt about it baby, it´s you I aim to please
I´d wrestle with a lion and a grizzly bear
It´s my life baby, but I don´t care

Aint that tough enough?
Aint that tough enough?
Aint that tough enough?
Aint that tough enough?

As the chorus draws out, Obi-Wan waggles his eyebrows enough to make you finally laugh out loud at his little musical declaration to you. And the man can dance sober. Who knew? Although it´s more of an exaggerated sway with you standing so close together.

For you baby I would swim the sea
There´s nuthin´ I do for you that´s too tough for me
I´d put out a burnin´ building with a shovel and dirt
And not even worry about getting hurt

Aint that tough enough?
Aint that tough enough?
Aint that tough enough?
Aint that tough enough?

Through the second verse and chorus your eyes dart around the crowd…and you both find the humor in the younger men strutting for the other girls in all their tough Jedi-ness. You look up at the ceiling and laugh again…but the combination of dancing and looking up is a little overwhelming as little black spots race across your line of vision. You stop and lower your head into your hands and try to rub the dizziness out of you.

You feel Obi-Wan´s hands on your arms. “Let´s sit down. It´s too early for you to be passing out,” he says and leads you to a table while you continue to your rub your forehead. You plunk down in a chair, and suddenly all the energy you possessed mere minutes ago drains right out of you. You place your hands on the table and slump forward to rest your head on them. “Are you alright?” Obi-Wan asks, placing a warm hand on your shoulder.

“I hate being sick,” you say. “I´d rather be dead than sick.”

“You should go to a healer,” he says.

“I don´t like doctors,” you say.

“But they´re not doctors in your sense. They´re healers,” he says. “They could have you well in no time.”

“You do it your way, I´ll do it mine, swami. I don´t like doctors or anybody else with pokey, needly things.”

“But a healer doesn´t—“

“No,” you say, still resting your head on the table.

“Alright then,” he says. “Can I get you anything?”

“No. Nothing,” you say.

“Margaritas, anyone?” Your head pops up to see the burly, half-nekkid cocktail waiter holding a tray out to you.

“Hello, gorgeous!” you say…more to the tray than to the waiter. You reach up and grab one. “You´re a lifesaver,” you say to the waiter.

“Are you sure that´s a good idea?” Obi-Wan asks. “You don´t drink much, and with your being sick—“ He stops speaking as you give him a look that could turn him to dust.

“Get a beer and don´t rain on my parade,” you say.

“Right,” he says.

A couple hours and a few margaritas later, your cold has miraculously left your body…or at least your current level of perception. In fact, this is the best party that you´ve ever attended! You raise your hand out toward the margarita man as he passes by again, but Obi-Wan takes a hold of your wrist and lowers your arm.

“I think you´ve had quite enough of those,” he says.

“Aaahh, look who´s talkin´,” you say. “How many glasses of Crrrrr-eeellian Ale is that? Five, I think, if my math is correct.”

“Two. I´ve had two,” he says.

“Oh. Fine. Suit yourself,” you snort as you look to the others at the table, rolling your eyeballs, and gesturing toward Obi-Wan with a shrug of your shoulders. You giggle at Kim who is nuzzled up close to Mace for her exclusive, and Kayla is at her rightful place at Qui-Gon´s side.

“Don´t worry,” Qui-Gon says. “He´ll have another glass while you´re not looking.”

“Whatever,” you say. “I want another margarita. Hey!” you call out trying to wave down the waiter.

“Yeah!” Kim says. “Get that guy over here!”

You sigh loudly. “I think he´s ignoring us.”

“Here,” Kim says, sliding her glass over to you. “Finish mine. I´ll get him.” You happily take her glass while Kim wobbles up and then stands on her chair, waving her arms. “Hey! Nekkid waiter guy!”

Kayla cackles out loud. “Try the bartender! Maybe he´ll pay attention.”

“OK!” you yell. You get up on shaky legs and stand on your chair as well.

“I think you should get down,” Obi-Wan says. “You´re libel to fall down.”

“Lemme handle this,” you say, shushing his hand away as he anticipates a stumble on your part. You clear your throat and say to Kayla. “Watch this.” And then you belt out to the tune of Big Spender, “HEY BARTENDER! BAWM-BAWM-BAWM-BAWM!” wildly swinging your hips on each beat of the music you make, and then you laugh hysterically as the women do the same and the men howl and catcall…all except Obi-Wan, of course, who under normal circumstances would join right in, but for some reason it doesn´t sit well coming from you.

“Wooooo!” Mace calls. “Sing it! Swing it!” he yells enthusiastically, clapping his hands.

Qui-Gon whistles and pulls a credit out of his pocket and tosses it at you. As you squeal and reach down to grab the money, you wobble off balance and take a header towards the table. Obi-Wan jumps up and grabs you around the waist and swoops you to the floor.

“Alright, enough of that,” he says, directing you to sit down. But instead you push him down into his chair and plunk down on his lap, lazily swinging your arm over his head and around his shoulders. He looks a little surprised but adjusts his legs to accommodate you.

“You know what yer problem ish, OO-BEE-WAANN?” you slur as you pound your finger into his chest.

“No. But I am sure you will tell me,” he says, mildly amused.

“I can´t wait to hear this,” Qui-Gon says.

“YOUR problem,” you say in drunk exaggeration, “is…is….” You cover your mouth and snort a laugh, eyeing the others at the table. “Oopsie! I forgot!

“Aaaaww,” everyone says in unison.

Then you wave your hand madly at them. “No wait. Ummm….” You turn your face back to Obi-Wan´s. “Your problem is that you´re,” you bang your forehead against his, “toooo cuuuute. Mmm-hmmm!” you nod definitively against his head. “Too cute,” you say again as you swat his chest. Then you giggle and turn toward Mace. “And so are you! And you!” you say pointing at Qui-Gon. “Annnnd….” you quickly look around the room. “And that guy over there!” You point madly toward somebody. “CUUUUUTE,” you say swinging your head back toward Obi-Wan again.

“And this is a problem, how?” Obi-Wan asks, even more amused this time.

“Cuzzzz….” you say. “Cuz you´re too cute.”

“Meaning?” he asks.

“MEEEEANING….” you say, rolling your eyeballs. “Meaning that you´re used to women jus´ THROWING themselves at you willy nilly,” you poke his chest again and emphasize, “willl-eeeee, nillll-eeee.”

“Sounds like a helluva problem to me,” Mace says with a laugh.

Your eyes grow wide as you scold Mace, “Lemme finish….pppsshh,” you say flapping your hand toward Mace. “You have all these women, willy nilly and stuff…and you´re not used to somebody like me who doesn´t do what you say just cuz yer cuuute.”

“Ah, I see,” Obi-Wan says, taking a sip of his third glass of ale.

“And it jus´ KILLS you that a woman could refuse yer cuuute-ness,” you state, opening your eyes wide and staring into his.

“Give her another margarita, and she won´t be refusing much longer,” Kayla says to Obi-Wan, causing the table to crack up.

“Hey!” you cry. You grab a small ice cube out of a lonely water glass and toss it at her.

She gasps exaggeratedly and with a wicked grin grabs several ice cubes and throws them back at you.

“Uh-oh,” Qui-Gon says.

“OH!” you yell and look around the table for ammo as Kim cackles. You quickly lunge for strawberries and hurl them at Kayla and Kim.

“You´re dead meat!” Kayla says with a laugh and sinks her fingers into a piece of cake.

You squeal and slide off of Obi-Wan´s lap and try to hide behind him. “Oh nooo,” he says playfully. “You started this.” He reaches around, grabs you, and pulls you back in front of him, sitting you down on his lap and holding you in place as the cake makes impact on your arm. You scoop the goo off and fling it on the table and then lick your fingers. Suddenly you eye a bottle of whipped cream on an adjacent table and curse your lack of Jedi skill, as it would be really cool to woosh that thing over and attack. You squeal in surprise as the can is suddenly airborne and flying toward you, directly into Obi-Wan´s outstretched hand. You look at him, and he wiggles his eyebrows wickedly. You turn and grab the can from him and fire at Kayla and Kim while Mace and Qui-Gon try to duck out of the way.

“No fair!” Kim says. “Macey, be a MAN and do something!”

Obi-Wan laughs. “Gods, what is it with you women?”

At his words, you, Kim, and Kayla stop all action and stare at Obi-Wan.

“Uh-ooohh,” Qui-Gon says again.

You begin to shake the whipped cream can in a threatening manner toward Obi-Wan while Kim and Kayla check the flight potential of each dessert on the table. “Yes, Obi-Wan,” you say. “Tell us, what it is with we women.”

Obi-Wan´s eyes grow wide and he says, “You…you´re all….”

“Yessss….” Kayla says swaying a nice, full spoonful of ice cream.

Obi-Wan flashes one of the best killer smiles of his life. “You´re all so beautiful and so worth defending. So, Master Mace, why didn´t you do something?”

“Awww….” Kayla says as you all smile sweetly at Obi-Wan. He smiles at all of you and nods his head….until Kim yells, “Get him!” And with that, you spray away as Kayla flings spoonfuls of ice cream, Kim squirts chocolate sauce, and Jenn appears from nowhere to throw cookies.

Obi-Wan ducks his head behind his arms until the assault stops. “OK, OK! I´m sorry,” he laughs, peeking out from behind his arms…not that it helped much since his hair is covered in dessert. He lowers his arms and says, “Forgiven?”

You quickly raise your can and spray him right in the face. “Yeah, forgiven,” you say, tossing the can onto the table and sitting down in your chair.

Obi-Wan grabs a napkin and begins cleaning himself off as Qui-Gon chuckles, “You have much to learn, padawan.”

“And so do you, Master,” Kayla purrs. “Whipped cream?” she asks, grabbing the can and holding it up to him.

You chuckle lightly, but feel a heavy, drowsy fog spreads through your body and you lean back in your chair.

“Are you alright,” Obi-Wan says.

“Yep,” you say as you lean to the side and slouch against his shoulder.

The next thing you know, you feel movement and hear quiet footsteps…someplace. You slowly recognize the object beneath you as your bed. You move slightly and make a slight groan.

“Shhhh, go back to sleep.”

The sound of Obi-Wan´s voice startles you, and you snap your eyes open…only to be assaulted by searing pain and terrible nausea. You groan loudly and shut your eyes, covering your hands with your face. As you awaken, you are aware that you are still in your clothes from the night before, sprawled out on top of the covers.

You roll to your side, but the pain in your head increases. “Oh God,” you say, “I think I´m gonna die.”

“I think you´ll survive,” Obi-Wan whispers, touching your arm. “But in the future you might want to remember not to drink.”

“Oh fine, tell me that now,” you moan.

“I tried to tell you last night,” he says.

“Are you going to torment me now?” you ask impatiently.

“No,” he says softly. “I have to go. But you go back to sleep.”

“No,” you say emphatically and grab his hand. “Kill me. Kill me now. You have a weapon. Use it,” you plead, pulling on his hand.

“Sorry, I only kill gooey creatures,” he says.

You whimper. And then it occurs to you that you don´t remember how you got to bed. “Wait. How´d I get here?”

“I brought you up,” he says. “And I stayed to make sure you´d be alright.”

“Oh,” you say. “Did I do anything stupid?”

“Aside from standing on your chair and singing to the bartender? No, nothing stupid,” he says.

You whine at the thought of having to live that one down. Another wave of nausea washes over you, and you groan, “I think I´d better find the bathroom.”

“Are you going to be sick?” he asks, helping you up.

“Eventually,” you say. “Just get me there. Then you can go.”

“Are you sure,” he asks, his voice concerned as he walks you toward the bathroom.

“I don´t think we need to share this,” you say as you arrive in the bathroom.

“Alright,” he says. “Take care of yourself.”

“I will,” you say. You wave half-heartedly as he walks away toward your bedroom door…but not fast enough for your preference as you succumb to the worship of the porcelain god. Humiliation sinks into your core as the horrible experience ends and you slink back against the wall with Obi-Wan´s help. “You shoulda kept walking,” you say burying your face in your hands as he flushes the toilet.

“You know I couldn´t do that,” he says quietly, placing his hand on your shoulder. “Do you want to get back to the bed?”

“No,” you say. “I´d better stay here.”

“Can I get you anything? Water?”

You make a disgusted noise at the mention of it. “No, nothing. Thanks. You can go.” He stands up slowly. “No wait,” you say.

“What is it?”

“Could you just grab my pajamas? I gotta get out of these clothes. You know the ones,” you say waving your hand at him.

“Yes,” he says with a soft chuckle.

“They´re in the second drawer,” you say as he walks into your bedroom.

“The plaid ones or the ones with the cute little…what are these?”

“Sheep…does it matter?” you whine pathetically. “Just bring some.”

“I´m sorry,” he says and walks in with the cute little sheep ones, thank God. They´ll be less trouble on the eyes than the plaid. He hands them to you, and you grab his hand and shake it slightly.

“Thank you,” you say, physically unable to actually look up at him. “I´m so embarrassed.”

“Don´t be,” he says.

“You were right,” you say. “I should have just worn my flannel pajamas last night…and then just gone to bed and skipped the party.”

He kneels down in front of you, still holding your hand. “No, you shouldn´t have. You had fun.”

“And am paying for it,” you say.

“And you were beautiful in this dress,” he says softly.

“´Were´ being the operative word,” you say.

“Still are,” he says. He reaches to place his hand on your head.

“Ow,” you say in real pain as his fingers touch your temple.

“Sorry,” he says. He brings your hand up to his lips and quickly kisses your fingers. “Just move slowly and sleep it off.”

“That´s the plan,” you say. “See you later.”

“Well, actually….” he says.

“That´s OK, I wouldn´t want to be around me either,” you say.

“No, no, that´s not it. Qui-Gon and I have to go away for a little while,” he says.

You seem to recall something about that being the reason for last night´s party, but it hurts too much to think. “How long?”

“I don´t know for sure,” he says. “A few weeks, maybe more.”

“Well, be careful then,” you say, leaning against the bathtub for support.

“I will,” he stands up and walks a couple steps and then stops in the bathroom doorway. “I´ll miss you,” he says quietly.

“Me too,” you say, attempting to smile and unsure if you really accomplish it.

He smiles and walks to the bed, grabs a pillow, and returns to place it between you and the bathtub.

“Thanks,” you say.

“Anytime,” he says. “Goodbye.”

“Bye,” you say and watch him finally walk out the door, vaguely aware of the pang of worry that rises in you…but it hurts to much too think about that feeling, too. You close your eyes and pray for unconsciousness…or death, whichever comes first.

Part 9

You do miss him. It is not a sentiment that you can quite nail down. It is not a wistful pining, as you are not lovers, that much is certain. But his absence makes you admit to yourself that your are not just friends either. At least not in the casual sense. You miss talking to him in those early morning hours. It is the inexplicable reassurance you feel in his presence that you miss the most. There is something so completely natural about your interaction with him, just like your best friendships with women…yet different.

It is odd to have a friend like this, someone who you feel you know so well, yet you really know nothing about his “real” life…the life that has kept him away for well over three weeks now. Is it possible to seemingly share so much with one person and still be practically strangers to each other regarding your everyday lives…you don´t even know his birthday.

You make a mental note to ask him just that the next time you see him. In fact, you do one better and write it down in your notebook. A friend´s birthday is an important thing to know and to remember.

As you lay in bed pondering all these notions, with your notebook still at your side in case genius strikes, there is a knock at the door. “Come in.”

The door swings open, and Kayla walks in slowly. “Did I wake you?”

You smile. It´s almost noon. “No, of course not.” You watch her face as she sits on the edge of your bed, her expression full of worry. Something tugs at your insides. “What´s happened?”

“They returned last night,” she says. You nod in understanding, silently relieved to finally have word. “There…there was….an accident.”

You sit up straight in your bed, your pulse quickening. “Who?”

“Qui-Gon called me this morning,” she says. “Apparently there were two transports bringing them all back. I guess there were several of them there…wherever ‘there´ was.” The frustration in her voice at being excluded from details is quite evident. “Anyway…. Upon take-off, one of the transports malfunctioned or something, and it…it crashed. For some reason, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were on separate transports. Qui-Gon saw the whole thing apparently…saw it just drop from the sky. He´s still pretty shaken up about it…I think. God knows the man won´t show a weakness.”

Shock. That´s the only way to describe your reaction.

Kayla, seeing your response, quickly adds, “Oh no, he´s alright. Well, I don´t know if I´d say alright, but—“

“Kayla,” you say in a pleading tone, eyes begging her for information.

“Obi-Wan was injured in the accident. But he´s fine.” Kayla takes a deep breath.

“Then what? What´s going on?”

“Do you know Cre Yaemar?”

“Not that well. I mean, I´ve talked to him on occasion. I know that he and Obi-Wan are good friends. He´s mentioned him several times,” you say.

“Cre didn´t survive,” Kayla says.

“Oh God,” you say as your eyes fill with horror. “Obi-Wan….” You have never lost a friend, and you cannot imagine the grief of losing one.

“That´s why I came to talk to you about this,” Kayla says. “Qui-Gon called asking if you would come to the Temple.”

“Me? Why?”

“Obi-Wan is pretty broken up about it…as much as Jedi´s are allowed to be, you know. Qui-Gon thought it might help if he had another friend around…a civilian so to speak,” Kayla says.

“Of course I´ll go. Of course,” you say as you move to get out of the bed.

“I´ll call him back and tell him you´re on your way then,” Kayla says, standing up and walking out of the room.

You hurry around your room to get dressed, feeling half-numb and wondering what you could possibly say or do in this situation to help him.

You squeeze your arms around your body and clutch your long wool coat as you approach the Jedi Temple. You have never been any closer than the sidewalk up until now, and you can´t believe they´re actually going to let you inside. The building is intimidating, although not foreboding. You feel its tradition and history as you move closer to it. You look up as it stretches high above you. Only now do you have a real sense of the different life they live…you feel somewhat silly in comparison – and embarrassed still after your last party antics.

You take a deep breath and enter. The interior is somber but welcoming as you approach the reception area. You request to see Qui-Gon and then wait with a slight feeling of inadequacy as you watch Jedi´s walk by in quiet contemplation and conversation…and they watch you. You feel a buzz all around you as each individual presumably scans your identity and your intent. You squeeze the sleeves of your coat and try to look nonchalantly out the window.

“Thank you for coming.”

You breathe a sigh of relief as you turn to see Qui-Gon. “Thank you for asking me,” you say.

“Come with me,” he says and then adds, “There is no need to feel uncomfortable here.”

“It just feels…different,” you say. “Like everyone can see right through me.”

“They can,” he says. “But they won´t hold it against you.”

“That´s a relief,” you say. You feel diminutive walking next to him down a long corridor and try not to notice all the looks you get when passing other people….and species you have never seen before. “Why me?”

Qui-Gon smiles with full understanding. “We are taught to be somewhat dispassionate about tragedy. We feel emotion just as anyone else would, but we are raised to handle it differently. Cre and Obi-Wan knew each other for many years. Obi-Wan, understandably, is devastated. But we do not handle grief as you might. It is difficult to explain. I do not want to give you the impression that we are unfeeling or indifferent to this loss.”

“You don´t have to explain anything. Just tell me what I can do,” you say.

“True friendship is a rare and valuable thing,” Qui-Gon says. “It is difficult for a Jedi to form this kind of relationship with someone on the outside. Obi-Wan has that kind of relationship with you. Your friendship is very important to him.”

“And to me,” you say.

“He is a Jedi, strong in the Force, and true to the Code. But the Code….” Qui-Gon stops as he politely bows to passers-by. When the hall is empty again, he continues, “The Code will not help him grieve or offer him support….an ear to listen or shoulder to cry on, if you will.” You are surprised to hear the mildest hint of disdain coming from this Jedi Master. “I, of course, am always available to him…such as your father or mother would be to you. But although you love your parents and they love you, you still need your friends to see you through certain situations. Friends can help you in a way your parents may not be able to.”

“I understand,” you say. “Where is he?”

“In the gardens,” he says. “He has been there since last night. He did not return to our quarters, and I found him there this morning. He asked simply to be left alone.”

“Are you sure he will want to see me?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Has he asked to see me?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know—“

“I just do,” he says.

“His injuries?”

“They are minor. Some cuts and bruises. They look worse than they actually are. Luckily he was seated and strapped in,” he says.

“And Cre wasn´t,” you say quietly.

“No,” Qui-Gon says. “He died of head injuries. There was nothing the healers could do by the time they got to him.”

You sigh. You don´t know what you will say to Obi-Wan.

“Just sit with him…anything,” Qui-Gon says. “Here we are.”

You look through the door and see the massive expanse of the garden, never imagining that it would be so large.

“He is sitting just beyond that grove of trees there,” Qui-Gon says, pointing through the window.

“Maybe he´s not out there anymore,” you say, unable to see anyone.

“He is still there. I can feel him. Walk around those trees. There is a bench just beyond. He is sitting there,” he says.

“Alright,” you say. You step through the door and into the garden. You look back at Qui-Gon who gives you a reassuring nod through the window. You take a deep breath and walk slowly toward the trees. The atmosphere of this place is nearly breathtaking, but gloom clouds your perception. Your brain races through anything you could possibly say, and it all sounds contrived and cliché.

You finally round the trees. Qui-Gon was right. There sits Obi-Wan, gazing up toward the tops of the trees. You are somewhat startled by the bruises and cuts on his face. You then wonder if he knows you are here, as he is not looking in your direction. You walk toward him at a wider angle in order to alert him to your presence without sneaking up on him.

His head calmly turns to look at you, and the hint of a smile covers his face. You take several more steps forward until you are standing right in front of him. The bench he sits on is high, and you are only slightly taller than his seated frame. You look at him for several moments in silence as his energy surrounds you, surprising in its intensity but completely familiar to you. You really have missed him.

“Are….” You clear your throat nervously. “Are you alright?”

“It is nothing serious,” he says. “Just a few bumps and bruises.”

You wince slightly as you stare at the gash on his eyebrow that extends to a dark purple bruise up his forehead. "That´s not what I meant,” you say as you gently brush the edge of the bruise with your fingertips.

He looks up at you and then down. “I will be fine, thank you,” he says.

You place your hand under his chin and lift his head until his eyes meet yours. “You don´t have to be fine,” you say.

He looks at you and nods and then looks around you as if unsure how to respond or what to do. You can sense how much he hates this feeling of uncertainty as you notice his hands tensing up on his knees. Jedi´s operate on control, and you can tell that he is fighting to maintain it.

“I am so sorry,” you whisper. “I don´t know what to say.” You swallow hard, but a tear escapes your eye.

He looks at you as though your emotion is foreign to him and says, “You didn´t know him well.” It is not a charge against you but more of a question as to why you would grieve for a stranger.

You smile at his reaction, mostly out of surprise at his confusion. “But I know you.” It is astounding to you that this man who has so easily responded to your emotions and your pain in the past cannot understand them now. He knows how to serve and how to help. For the first time you finally, truly realize that he does not know how to receive help or how to allow himself to be supported by another….especially by someone like you who does not live by his Code.

So you have to show him. You take another step forward and pull him to you, resting his head on your shoulder and winding your arm around his shoulders as firmly as you can. He is not large like his Master, but you still feel less than capable of fully embracing him. He freezes for a moment, unsure of the appropriate response. But when you massage your fingers through his hair in slow, soothing strokes and rest your cheek against his head, his wall crumbles. His arms tightly embrace you, his hands easily reaching completely around you and clinging to your sides. You feel his breath shudder with emotion, and he buries his face into the side of your neck. You lean in against him and rock him slowly, still winding your fingers through his hair.

He breathes heavy again. It is all he can do, so you cry gentle tears for him. Upon realizing your release, he clutches you tighter and hides his face more firmly against the crook of your neck. Then suddenly you feel a buzz of energy all over your skin and a tug deep inside. Your breath catches at this odd sensation.

“I…I need to feel your sorrow,” he says, his words hesitant and muffled against your neck.

It is somewhat unnerving that he can so easily dive into the center of you, but you agree without a second thought. “Of course. Whatever you need.” You feel the tug again but don´t fight it this time. You feel the sad ache inside you literally pulled forward, and his body shudders again. Not entirely understanding the process, but wanting to do all you can, you set your mind and your heart toward pouring your sorrow and your compassion into him. You let go of pretense and your fear of what else he might see in you by allowing your emotions to flow freely.

The two of you stand there, embraced, beyond all perception of time. It could be minutes, it could be hours, you don´t know and you don´t care. His breathing becomes deeper and calmer as you let him take from you what he needs – pain, empathy, love…even anger and confusion.

Finally, his hands release their tight grip on your back. He raises his head and brings his hands up to your face and tilts your head down until your foreheads are touching. He looks into your eyes at length, lightly caressing your face with his fingers. “Thank you,” he whispers.

You hold his face in your hands and barely rub your nose against his. Then you place a kiss on his forehead…and another closer to his bruises…and another on his temple before embracing him again. After a few moments you step back slightly and then sit down next to him, running your arm under his and entwining your fingers with his fingers. You rest your cheek against his arm as your other hand covers the top of his hand, and he does the same to yours.

You sit quiet for a moment before asking, “When is your birthday?”

“On the tenth,” he answers as though it were a perfectly normal question in this situation.

“Hmm,” you say. “Glad I asked.” You glance up at his face and follow his line of sight to the tops of the trees, and you sit together in silence.

Part 10

You curl up on the couch in your big fleece robe and long underwear and snicker at the television as Kegis goes on and on about a guy he hired to remodel his bathroom.

“Oh, Kege!” you say out loud right along with Rathie Gee. You know them too well. And, damn, your life is glamorous and exciting.

“Who are you talking to?”

You look over your shoulder to see Obi-Wan walking into the room. “Oh, just the TV,” you say. He gives you a silly grin, and you say, “Yeah, my life is pathetic.”

“It is not,” he says, sitting down by your feet. He gives your cocoon clothing the once over and says, “Are you feeling alright?”

“Why?”

“You´re more wrapped up than a Hoth native,” he says.

You switch off the television and growl, “I hate this weather. Why do they have to make it rain?”

“I believe we´ve already had this discussion,” he says.

“Well, I hate it,” you say, leaning your head against the top of the couch. “So how are you?”

“I´m well,” he says.

“Are you sure,” you ask as you notice that his forehead is still slightly bruised. “Not that you´d take this kind of advice from me, but aren´t you supposed to go to a healer or something?”

“I haven´t the energy for it,” he says quietly. “Besides, a few bruises won´t hurt me.”

“I´m sorry,” you say. “I wish—“

“You have done plenty for me,” he says. “More than I´ve deserved.”

“Nonsense,” you say. “If you need to talk or—“

“I will be fine. Thank you,” he interjects. Oh well, you were the one who told him to be tough after all. He looks down at the floor, and then says in a lighter tone, “So are you going to be a layabout all day?”

“Yep,” you say.

“Why?”

“I think I´m depressed,” you sigh and then inwardly kick yourself for whining to him after what he´s been through.

“What´s wrong?”

“Nothing. It´s silly in comparison to-- Forget it,” you say wishing you would learn to think before you speak.

“I will not forget it. Tell me,” he says.

You pull your knees up to your chest and pull your robe tightly over your legs. “It´s…it´s just so damn dark and gloomy and cold. I just want to sleep all day.”

He gives you a half smile. Maybe your pathetic little problems are just what he needs to hear. “Lazy bones,” he says. Alright, so it´s the teasing and torture that he needs. Whatever works.

“Hey! Did you come here just to taunt me?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Well, I´m serious,” you say indignantly, happy to see a smile on his face and willing to be as stupid as necessary in order to keep it there. “I´m tired and lethargic. My writing sucks. I don´t feel like eating. I don´t feel like doing anything. I am depressed.”

He thinks for a moment and says, “You know what you need?”

“Please, if it has anything to do with getting laid, exercise, or eating broccoli, spare me. I´ve heard it all,” you say.

“All valid prescriptions,” he says and then adds with a snort, “especially where you´re concerned.

You playfully kick his leg and say, “Don´t think you´re the first person to call me uptight, fat, and unhealthy. There have been plenty – and I mean plenty – before you. So there!”

He shakes his head, “After you, they threw out the mold.”

“God I hope so,” you say with another sigh, throwing your back against the arm of the couch. “I´d hate to have more than one of me to deal with.”

“You´re not the only one,” he mumbles.

“Alright, Mister Obnoxious Jedi Man, tell me. What do I need,” you ask through a laugh.

“You need fun,” he says. “You need to just get out and do something.”

“And you know just the thing, I suppose,” you say as the light dawns on you. Whatever it is, he has to make it your need instead of his.

“I do,” he says.

“And it would be…”

“Fresh air,” he says.

“Huh?”

“You just need to get out. Go walking someplace. Perhaps….” You try not to smile as he pretends to think of this thing spontaneously. “I know. There´s a carnival. You should go.”

You snort a tiny laugh but make an immediate correction when his face drops at your response. “A carnival, eh? Sounds like fun.”

“It is not far from here if you really wanted to go. And….” He stops.

“And what?”

“Well, if YOU wanted to go…I…I could go with you,” he says.

“Sounds like a great idea,” you say. “I haven´t been to a carnival in years.”

Obi-Wan stands up. “So…do you want to go….today?”

You smile and say, “Sure, why not. Although, I suppose I should probably get dressed first.” You stand up from the couch and shuffle past him.

“Please do,” he says with a tease in his voice.

“I dunno, I think I´m gonna call the Temple and ask that they put you to work today,” you say.

“Sorry,” he says. “They gave me a little time off.” He pauses and says, “For good behavior.”

“Yeah, right,” you say. “Listen, I need a shower—“

“Yes, you do,” he says.

You turn around and grab his arm. “That comment wins you one of these,” you say as you hold his arm out and smack it. “Give me thirty minutes.”

He sighs, “You women….”

“Do you want me to grab the whipped cream can?”

“I might,” he says with a smirk.

“Sit down,” you order with exaggerated exasperation and shove him toward the couch. “Cool your jets, it won´t take me long.”

“Yes, ma´am,” he says.

Not surprisingly, when you return downstairs you find Obi-Wan on the couch surrounded by four women. The television is on again, and they´re watching “Alderaan Nights.” You cover your mouth so as not to laugh at a Jedi sitting straight-backed and stoic in front of a soap opera while women explain it all to him. You quietly sneak up behind him and tug on his ponytail. “C´mon, Slacker Jedi, time´s a wastin´.”

He stands up quickly and walks around the couch. “I knew you were sneaking up on me.”

“Bully for you,” you say.

“And that was forty-five minutes, not thirty,” he says.

“Yeah, but I bet you got to find out that the father of Tarva´s baby is really Markus”,
you say.

“Actually, Barden is the father,” he says.

“Oh,” you say, trying not to laugh. “Well…we could stay until it´s over if—“

“No, let´s go,” he says, practically pushing you out of the room and waving a polite goodbye to everyone.

“So,” you say as the two of you hit the sidewalk, “do you think she´s in love with Markus or Barden? It could be both, I suppose, but I´m thinking—“ You start laughing as you catch the you-don´t-really-watch-that-shit-do-you look on Obi-Wan´s face. “OK, so where are we going?”

“It is at the convention center,” he says.

You stop. “Wait, we´re gonna walk all the way to the convention center?”

Having stopped in front of you, he turns around and says, “Of course not. We´ll take a shuttle.”

“Oh,” you say, walking toward him.

“Is that a problem?”

“No, no problem,” you say.

“Yes, it is,” he says as you resume your moderate pace. “You don´t like shuttles.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“It is just a short ride,” he says.

“I know. I just don´t like them. Where I come from, buses don´t leave ground level. I like it that way,” you say.

“Oh…well…we could do something else,” he says.

“No, no…I´m….It´ll be fine. I can cope. Just….”

“Just what?”

“Just don´t make me look down, OK?”

“You could just close your eyes,” he says as you approach the transport station on the corner.

“No, can´t do that either,” you say.

“You would never survive space travel,” he says with a chuckle.

“And as you will notice, I don´t partake of space travel,” you say.

“So how did you ever get here,” he says.

“Long story,” you say as you step into the elevator going up to the shuttle platform. The doors shut, and the elevator makes its ascent. You watch the platform numbers light up as it goes higher. “Well….We´re just going up and up and up, aren´t we?”

“We´re almost there,” he says.

The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open, revealing a large landing platform. You walk outside and gasp as your body feels the disorientation of viewing the tops of buildings. At least they´re the shorter buildings, you tell yourself. You follow Obi-Wan to the proper waiting area and stand perfectly still, looking straight ahead. You then decide against that plan because you can see other shuttles flying by only slightly higher than the platform…and you know how high those shuttles look when you are standing on the ground. You look down at the surface of the platform and try to calm yourself.

“You alright?”

“Yep, fine…just fine,” you say.

“Look at me and say that,” he says.

“I´d rather not look up, thank you,” you say.

“If this is too stressful for you—“

“No. I´m fine. I´ve ridden on these things DOZENS of times,” you say. You just want to slap yourself for being so stupid, especially since this is something he really wants to do. You feel his hands on your shoulders, and you instantly calm down…a little. After a few moments, your shuttle is heard overhead, but you can´t actually look up to see it come in. The platform vibrates as it makes a firm landing, and you shift your feet trying not to think about how a platform could possibly be that high in the air.

With a gentle nudge, Obi-Wan directs you forward, and you finally look up. Then it occurs to you that you haven´t bought tickets at the booth.

“Jedi perk,” he says.

“What´d you say?”

“Free transport passes,” he says, reaching into a pouch on his belt.

“Ah, good benefits package at the Temple these days, eh?”

“I wouldn´t go that far,” he says.

“C´mon, you get free transportation, free food—“

“You wouldn´t say that if you actually had to eat there,” he says.

“I can imagine,” you say with a chuckle as you step forward to board the very crowded shuttle. You get mid-way back and discover there are no available seats, so you resolve yourself to standing for the short trip. You attempt to grab the bar above you, but it is just a little too high, so you hang on like a girl playing on a jungle gym.

Obi-Wan, who stands facing you, easily reaches up to the bar and then firmly takes hold of your free arm with his other hand. “Perhaps it is easier this way,” he says.

“Good thinking,” you say, laying your arm on top of his and wrapping your hand around the crook of his elbow. “Gosh…tough, tall, plays well with others…what more could a girl ask for?”

“Money,” he says succinctly, and it makes you laugh out loud.

Until the shuttle lifts off. Your laughter abruptly ceases, and you grab onto his arm with the other hand, too, and clench the loose fabric of his robe. Your eyes dart out the window at the other airborne traffic, and you are now thankful that there were no seats available, or you´d be able to see straight down. You catch a glimpse of the top of a building, and quickly turn your head back to Obi-Wan. “I think…I think I´ll just…admire your robe here,” you say, staring straight ahead at his chest.

“Likely excuse,” he drawls.

He asked for it. You reach for his braid and give it a good tug, causing him to yelp. “Don´t torment me when I´m a bizillion feet in the air,” you say.

“Alright, I´m sorry. But you don´t have to be violent about it,” he says.

“Violent? You aint seen nuthin´ yet,” you say. “Besides, I thought you liked it rough. At least that´s the word around the building these days.” You feel him staring down at you with a mildly displeased eye, but you ignore it and just concentrate on getting to your destination.

Before you can become too neurotic, the shuttle pilot announces the convention center station. With a sigh of relief, you now allow yourself to look out the window again as passengers begin to make their way toward the front, clearing up the aisle way a bit. Obi-Wan guides you around so you are in front of him to disembark. He then allows a few other seated passengers to step in front of him as you proceed a few steps down the aisle. Then suddenly, you hear a loud grinding noise and the sound of crunching metal as the shuttle jerks, and before you can grab hold of something your feet leave the ground as your body is forced forward. You feel a sharp pain as your head makes contact with a solid surface…and all goes black.

You hear the distant sound of someone calling your name. The voice is frantic, but muffled. You feel anxious hands on your face, and the voice becomes a little clearer. Slowly you open your eyes, and blink a few times to focus your vision. You are laying down on the floor of a shuttle, several people looming over you.

“Oh thank the Force. Are you alright?”

Your eyes meet his, and they are stunning…but filled with concern. His face is a mask of worry.

“My head hurts,” you say as you try to sit up.

“No, don´t try to move. Let me help you,” he says.

“Wait,” you say. “Who are you?”

“Very funny,” he says. “This is no time for joking. I need to get you out of here.”

“Excuse me,” you say. “I´m not trying to be funny, I´d just like to know who you are.” You look around again. “And what the hell am I doing on a shuttle? I hate shuttles.”

The color drains from his face, and his mouth drops open. “Y-you don´t…remember why we´re here?”

“No.” You pause as panic rises in you. “And…I suppose that means I´m supposed to remember you.”

The Jedi – you can at least tell that much – is visibly agitated. “It´s me…Obi-Wan.”

You give him a blank stare.

“That´s alright. You hit your head. Everything will be fine,” he says calmly, although is demeanor suggests otherwise. “I´m going to carry you outside. Tell me if anything hurts.”

“What happened?”

“The shuttle was rear-ended,” he says, sliding his arms underneath you and easily picking you up. “Everything alright?”

“Yes, I feel fine…except for my head,” you say.

He carries you outside and into the station where he lays you down on the floor, cradling your shoulders and head in his arms.

“Do we know each other well?”

He blinks nervously as his brow wrinkles, and he lets out a staggered breath. “Yes…very well.”

You take a deep breath as a feeling of abject horror washes over you…not because you are injured, but because of the chance that you may have actually had sex with this beautiful man, and you don´t remember it.

He stares at you with almost the same look of shock, and simply says. “We are very good friends.” He pulls his hand up past your face, and you see red.

“Oh God, is that MY blood?”

“Yes,” he says. “It´s alright. We´ll get you to a healer. They should be here quickly.”

“I don´t like doctors,” you say.

He gives you a weak smile. “I know.” He reaches for something in his belt, and you see more blood on his hand.

“I think I´m gonna throw up….or pass out,” you say.

“I´d suggest the latter,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say quietly as your mind goes fuzzy and you give into unconsciousness.

“That´s it,” says a soothing voice. “Everything is alright.” You slowly open your eyes to see a woman with a kind face standing over you. “Feeling better?”

“Yes,” you say.

She helps you to sit up. “Does your head feel better.”

“Yes,” you say, even more surprised.

“Good. Head wounds tend to bleed a lot, but they usually aren´t as bad as they look.”

“So you fixed me up? Just like that?” You feel the back of your head. It´s a little tender, but no sign of injury as far as you can tell.

She smiles. “Yes, just like that.”

“Wow, I feel great, actually. Guess I need a whack on the head more often, eh?”

“I wouldn´t suggest it,” she says.

“Well, you people are good! All without needles, too. I´m impressed,” you say.

“We try,” she says with a smile. “Now, I just have a few questions for you, and then I can probably release you to that handsome Jedi out there if that´s alright.”

“Well….I guess so….”

You walk out into the waiting area of the clinic. Obi-Wan jumps to his feet and hurries over to you. "Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I feel fine,” you say.

“And your memory?”

“Um…let´s see. You are….wait….um….”

He looks at you hopefully.

“Gimme a sec…let´s see…you are….O…uh….”

He nods.

“O-Obi-Wan…Obi-Wan Kenobi, illustrious tough Jedi Man, Jelly Boy, and schoolgirl obsessed braidiac,” you say with a big grin and an exaggerated expression of discovery.

He face tightens up. “I don´t know whether to hug you or hit you,” he growls.

“Uptight, fat, unhealthy, AND incorrigible,” you say with a big grin. “Gotta love me! Got-ta love me,” you say poking at his chest to accentuate each syllable.

Obi-Wan bites his lips and exhales heavily. “That is debatable.”

“I´m sorry,” you say with a little chuckle. “You´re just too fun to tease.”

He puts his hands on his hips. “Do you have any idea what I thought when I saw you laying there unconscious…bleeding all over the floor?”

Your cocky attitude quickly dissipates.

“Do you?!”

You look down at the floor and play with your hands. “I´m sorry, I really am. You´ve been through hell, and I….”

“Let´s go,” he says, turning around and walking ahead of you out the clinic door.

You opt for a taxi, which run a little closer to the ground, back to your local transport station and then walk two steps behind Obi-Wan the rest of way back home, neither of you saying a word. Finally you say, “I´m sorry,” again. Obi-Wan keeps walking ahead of you. You stop walking and watch him continue on ahead of you for several steps.

He finally halts and stands still with his back to you. “Are you coming?”

You sigh and walk forward. “I said I´m sorry. What else do you want me to say?”

He spins around quickly and shoots, “Would it kill you to be nice to me?”

You take a step back in surprise at the burst of anger and say quietly, “No. I can be nice.”

Obi-Wan pulls back and says, “I know.”

“Yeah, well…let´s go,” you say, walking on ahead of him.

“For an instant…for a fraction of an instant…I thought…. I thought I was going to lose you, too,” he blurts out.

You turn, slightly stunned, and walk back to him. “Not a chance,” you say seriously. Not knowing what else to say, you fall back on your routine, grin, and add, “I am your penance. You´re stuck with me. Now let´s go. I´m starving.” You turn back around and head down the sidewalk.

“Well, I must have done something really awful,” he says.

“Huh?”

He joins you at your side. “If you´re my penance, then—“

“Aaahh,” you say wagging your finger at him. “Silly Jedi is back.”

“Well, Qui-Gon says that levity can be good for the soul,” he says.

“A very smart Master, he is,” you say. Then you stop and jump ahead, blocking his path. “AH!” you shout pointing at him.

“Ah?”

“Your birthday! You have a birthday coming! We have to have a party for you,” you say excitedly.

He shakes his head. “No, that is not necessary. Jedi´s don´t really make a fuss about birthdays.”

“Well I do!” You turn around and start walking again. “We definitely need to have a party.”

“But I don´t have birthday parties,” he says.

“Oh, come on. I´m sure Qui-Gon gave you birthday presents,” you say.

“He gave me a stone once,” he says.

“What?! He bought you a rock?”

“He didn´t buy it,” Obi-Wan says. “And it was a stone.”

“Oh well, that makes ALL the difference. Here I thought he bought you a rock. But he found some old, dirty stone and gave it to you. Makes much more sense,” you say. “OK, wait, you´re joking, right?”

“No,” Obi-Wan says.

“You mean to tell me, you´ve never had a real birthday cake?”

“No.”

“Not even cupcakes?”

“What is a cupcake?”

“Oh my God,” you say indignantly. “Qui-Gon gives you a rock and not so much as a cupcake? What kind of mean old Master is he?”

“You just said he was very smart,” Obi-Wan says.

“Well…he may be smart, but his cuddly-wuddly quota is seriously low. That´s it, we´re having a birthday party. And no arguments from you, got it?!” You point right in his face.

“Is this how cuddly-wuddly is defined?”

You laugh. “If there is one thing that can be said about me, it is that I am most definitely NOT cuddly-wuddly.” Sensing his most-likely response, you quickly add, “But that doesn´t mean I´m not well-equipped to judge other people regarding their capacity for warm fuzzies, your Master in particular.”

“He will be most pleased to hear that,” he says.

“Not a word, paddlewan,” you say.

“What did you call me?”

“Nothing,” you say. “Now, we only have a few days to plan this shin-dig.” You walk up the stairs to the JH Temple and open the front door. “So, do you prefer vanilla or chocolate?”

A wicked grin spreads across Obi-Wan´s face.

“Cake, Silly Jedi, cake! Vanilla or chocolate cake?”

He chuckles, “I know. What did you think I meant?”

You shake your head and mutter, “Incorrigible,” as you step inside.

“I thought that was you,” he says, walking in behind you.

“Be a good Jedi and answer the question, please,” you say as you close the door.

“Chocolate. I am a very big fan of chocolate,” he says.

“Woo-hoo!” Kim yells as she sails down the hall past you.

Part 11

“I am just going to walk very, very slowly and gradually raise my voice to alert you of my presence so as not to cause you any undue stress.”

You lean back in your lounge chair out in the garden and say, “Don´t worry about it, I heard your voice out in the hall.”

Obi-Wan pulls a chair over from one of the tables. “Well, you are a mystery to me. Sometimes you look very intent and focused, as you did just now, but you are fully aware of your surroundings. Other times, you seem more relaxed, and then I end up taking a few years off of your life.” He sits down in the chair and continues, “Should I ever have a padawan, I will provide special teachings regarding obsessed, tormented writers…that is, if I ever figure you out.”

You look at him with a silly grin for a moment, surprised at his spontaneous chattiness. “Make that neurotic, obsessed, tormented, chocolate-craving, female writers.”

“Perhaps it is better left a mystery,” he says.

“A good choice,” you say.

“You could, of course, explain it to me,” he says.

“No can do,” you say.

His face drops slightly. “Why not?”

“Cuz I don´t get it either,” you say.

“I see.”

“Everyone else…I´ve got ‘em figured out. Me?” You wave your hand at him, “Fuhgettaboutit.”

He smiles and says, “You are feeling well?”

“Yes, I´m good. Just a little headache, but no big deal,” you say. “And yourself?”

“Oh, very well,” he says enthusiastically.

“Win the lotto or something?”

“Pardon?”

“Why so gleeful?”

“Ah,” he says. “I have something for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes,” he says with a grin. He reaches into a pouch on his belt and pulls out a piece of paper and begins to unfold it. “I made a list.”

“A list? What, you goin´ grocery shopping?”

“You told me to make a list of things I want to do. So here it is,” he says, handing it to you.

“Oh!” You take it from him and say, “I´m so proud of you.” You begin to look at it but then turn it down. “You probably don´t really want me to read it, though.”

“Of course I do. That´s why I made you a copy,” he says.

You giggle. “This…is my copy?”

“Yes. You initiated this activity. I thought you should have a copy,” he says.

“Oh…well…I´m flattered.” You start to look at it again and then stop. “There isn´t anything really embarrassing on here like Jell-O wrestling or a bug squashing fetish, is there?”

“Just read it,” he says a little impatiently.

“Alright.” You clear your throat and announce, “Number one—“

“Not so loud,” he says.

“Oh, sorry,” you say sheepishly. It is late morning, and there are most likely plenty of ears about. “Number one,” you whisper.

“Stop it.”

You chuckle. “Sorry, OK. Seriously now. Number one—“

“And these are in no particular order of preference,” he says.

“Alright, already. Number one….” You look down at the list and grin. “A birthday party. Now that we can do. Two days and counting.”

“Actually,” he says, “we can´t actually do that.”

“Why not?”

“We have to leave tomorrow morning,” he says.

“Oh. Well, we´ll just postpone it. Do it when you get back,” you say.

He gives you a lopsided grin and says, “Alright then.”

You give him a sideways glance, “You sure you haven´t been into the Prozac this morning?”

He wrinkles his brow in confusion and says, “Just continue, please.”

“Sure. Alright, number two….new clothes,” you say with a laugh.

“I thought it might be a good idea,” he says.

“What do Jedi´s wear besides those jammie things?”

“These are not pajamas!”

You put your hands up, “Alright, alright…don´t get testy.”

“Hence, my desire to buy new clothes. I do not socialize a great deal, but when I do it would be nice to have something else to wear….whatever that might be,” he says, sounding a little overwhelmed at the prospect.

“Go with black,” you say. “Can´t go wrong with black. Dressy, yet casual. Very slimming. Goes with everything. I´m a big fan of black.”

“Yes, I noticed,” he says. “Perhaps you should consider—“

“Hey, this is about you, remember?”

“Right,” he says. “Please, go on.”

“Number three…N-S-G. N-S-G?” You look up at him and see a slightly nervous expression on his face. “N-S-G??” His cheeks turn a pale shade of pink. “Ah-ha!!” You start to laugh and then lower your voice. “Naughty School Girl.”

“Well….” He shifts around in his chair. “You said to write everything down.”

“Yes…yes, I did. And, as Oprah says, the whole of creation begins with a thought. The thought forms a word – or in this case, the written word – and the word brings forth the action.”

“Yes…well…in any case….”

You nod. “It´s true. You are one step closer to your Naughty School Girl, just by writing her down.” His shut-up-and-keep-reading stare ushers you on. “Now, number four….” You start laughing before you can actually read it.

“What is so funny? You should not judge me,” he says. “Plenty of well-respected Jedi´s take art classes. In fact, they offer them at the Temple.”

“Hey, don´t get so defensive. I have nothing against art. Art is good. And artistic men are even better, but—“ You begin to laugh again.

“But what?”

“I dunno. I just have this image of a Jedi art class…with naked Klingon models or something,” you say with a giggle.

“What is a Klingon?”

“Oh right, wrong fandom. Sorry. Everything just sort of runs together in my brain. So, number five….the circus?”

“Yes,” he says.

“The circus?”

“I always wanted to go when I was a little boy. But that isn´t the sort of thing that young Jedi´s do. I happened to see an advertisement for one…next month, actually,” he says enthusiastically.

“The CIRCUS?!”

“Yes, the circus,” he says.

“Are you high?”

“I thought you were not supposed to judge me,” he says through clenched teeth. “And what is wrong with the circus?”

“What is wrong with it? All those animals locked up and parading around? It´s awful. And clowns!”

“I like clowns.”

“I hate them,” you say definitively.

He audibly gasps. “How can you say that? Clowns are funny and entertaining.”

“They are evil,” you say.

“They are not!”

“Yes, they are. Evil, twisted clowns. I hate them,” you say.

“Children love them. How could they be evil?”

“I hated them when I was a kid, and I hate them now,” you say.

“Alright, NORMAL children love them. Evil,” he huffs. “You don´t know the first thing about evil.”

“Ha! Bring it on, baby. You aint seen true evil til you´ve been face-to-face with a clown…that psycho makeup and hair like the flames of hell,” you say.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “You are beyond hope.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you say.

“Well, you can cross that one off the list if you don´t like it,” he says.

“This isn´t about what I like, silly. This is your list,” you say.

“Well…I´m not going to the circus by myself,” he says.

“What? Scared of the clowns?” You laugh at the look he gives you. “This doesn´t have anything to do with me.”

“Of course it does,” he says. “This list was your idea.”

“Yes, but that doesn´t mean I have to participate in all of these. Trust me, there are plenty of girls here who would love to go to the circus with you,” you say.

“No, that´s alright,” he says.

“Oh, now don´t be like that,” you say.

“Like what?”

“All moody just because I hate clowns,” you say.

“I am not being moody,” he says. “I just thought you might like to participate, that´s all. And ‘hate´ is a strong word.”

“Hey, I´m doing the birthday party. Give me some credit,” you say.

“Yes, I know. Let´s just drop this, shall we?”

“And I do hate them. Hate. H-A-T-E.”

“The next one, please,” he says.

“Fine,” you say, looking back at the list. “Number six….Temple Ball. Alright, I´m getting disturbing visuals from those words. Please explain it quickly.”

“It is a party,” he says scoldingly. “It is an annual event. Local and foreign dignitaries are invited. The Temple gets to show off the Jedi, the politicians get to show off their titles. But it is mainly a social event hosted by the Temple. We are all required to attend and be on our best behavior.”

“To show that you´re with-it kind of people,” you say. “Boring, with-it kind of people.”

“Something like that, yes,” he says.

“And you wrote it down because….”

“Because I need a date,” he says.

You laugh out loud. “Somehow, I don´t think that will be a problem for you.” You suddenly stop laughing at his serious expression. “Ooohh noooo!” You shake your head with enthusiasm. “No, no, no.”

“It could be fun,” he says.

“No friggin´ way.”

“Why not?”

“Obi-Wan, this is me you´re talking to. Do I look like the kind of person who hangs out with foreign delegations?”

“That´s why I think it would be fun,” he says with a smirk.

“No way. I have all the fun I can handle embarrassing myself in front of the locals. I don´t need to become a galactic embarrassment,” you say.

“Pleeeeease,” he says.

You laugh at his whining. “No.”

“The thing is such a dreadfully boring occasion. I can´t take a normal woman because she will inevitably become giddy,” he says.

“So you´d rather take a mutant freak woman like me who will think it is all very stupid,” you say.

He laughs. “You are not a MUTANT freak.”

“Oh, well in that case….”

“It´s just that these parties are a very big deal. Cocktails, nice dinner, dancing…. And women always think it means more than it is,” he says.

“I´m not EVEN going there,” you say.

“Just say you´ll think about it,” he says.

“I have nothing to wear to a fancy soiree,” you say.

“You could wear that dress you wore at the party,” he says.

“Let me rephrase: Are you drunk?”

“What was wrong with that dress?”

You drop your head into your hands. “You men are so clueless about fashion. That was a smutty, tarty dress.”

“Oh,” he says.

“And besides…I threw up in that dress. Bad association,” you say.

“Ah. I understand,” he says. He sighs and leans back in his chair. “Well, I suppose I could find somebody else to go with me to the party…and to the circus….” His happy face disappears, and he stares at the ground, sighing again.

“Nice try…especially the pout. If I were a normal woman, you´d really have me going,” you say.

He looks up quickly, “Fine.” Then he smiles. “But you can´t blame me for trying.”

“No, I suppose not. But I´m sure there are other women you could ask…Jedi friends of yours, perhaps.”

“Tried that already,” he says with a guilty grin.

You laugh. “So I was your last shot, eh? Well, don´t worry about it. Something will work out.”

“Yes, maybe I will get lucky and somebody will blow up a planet or some such thing,” he says.

Your eyes grow wide. “I can´t believe you just said that!”

“Neither can I,” he says. “You see how much you have corrupted me?”

“Well, my work here is done,” you say, standing up from your chair. “But seriously, this is a very good list. What made you decide to write all this down?”

He stands and follows you toward the door. “Well…. Considering recent events, I….” his voice trails off.

“Yeah, I understand. Life is short. Gotta make sure you live it a little,” you say. He responds only with a nod and reaches forward as you approach the door to open it for you. “Hey,” you say, turning around suddenly, “I have an idea.”

“What is it?”

“Well, seeing as our plans were thwarted yesterday…and considering that the weather dorks have finally gotten their heads on straight and given us a nice day…and that you´re leaving tomorrow….”

“It sounds good already,” he says.

“Let´s try the carnival again,” you say.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, why not? Better yet, let´s do it later…if you can do that.”

“Yes, I can do that,” he says.

“Great. Say we go for dinner? Then we´ll get to see all the cool lights and stuff after dark,” you say.

“I don´t know,” he says. “Are you sure that you´re up to it?”

“Yeah, no problem,” you say. “It´ll be fun.”

“Yes, I think so,” he says. “I have a some errands to run, but I´ll be back in a few hours then?”

“I´ll be here. Take your time,” you say as you walk with him to the front door.

He turns to you quickly and says, “You are going to keep that list to yourself, correct?”

“Oh…well, I was gonna post it on the bulletin board in the kitchen since people are wondering what to get you for your birthday,” you say.

Obi-Wan shifts on his feet and looks around for the right response.

“Kidding!” He gives you THAT look, and you say, “I am being nice. Bye,” you say and scurry away before he has a chance to scold you.

Part 12

You scrawl down a few more notes regarding Obi-Wan´s birthday, and then turn toward your bedroom door as you hear a loud, collective squeal. A moment later your phone rings. You reach over and pick up the receiver, but before you can say a word, Kayla´s voice comes through:

“I hope you´re dressed nice.”

“Huh?”

“Looks like Obi went shopping,” she says.

You laugh. “Well, good for him. I´m impressed.”

“You don´t know the first thing about it. You´re dressed nice, right?”

“Kayla, we´re going to a carnival.”

“Let me explain something to you. He´s wearing black,” she says.

“Oh yeah, I told him to go with black,” you say.

“Hello, McFly! The man is wearing black,” she says.

“OK, he´s wearing black,” you say.

“Black boots, black pants – form-fitting I might add – black shirt unbuttoned at the collar…are you getting a visual?”

“Uh…yeah,” you say with a gulp.

“So dress accordingly,” she says.

“But I don´t have anything that—“

“Just no flannel shirts and sweats, alright? Simple enough?”

“I wouldn´t wear that!”

“And no jeans, either,” she says.

“Oh.”

“In fact, put a dress on,” she says.

“Yes, Mom,” you say. You hang up the phone and lumber over to the closet. You really hate being outdressed, but at least you had some warning this time.

A few minutes later, you situate yourself in front of the mirror. The dark purple dress is a good choice…it´s almost black after all. Nice, heavy knit for the evening air…down to your ankles for that comfy blanket feeling. You pull on your black tights and those shoes that “they” say are now out of style this season…but what do “they” know? You pin your hair back just a bit and nod with approval.

You walk out of your bedroom and down the hall. As you approach the stairs, you see Kayla coming up the stairs.

“Oh good choice,” she says. “Casual, but not too casual. Comfortable, but not suggestive.”

“This is not a date. This is just Obi-Wan,” you say.

“Uh-huh,” she says. “Then why is he dressed like that?”

“Because I called his Jedi getup ‘jammies´.”

She laughs. “Be nice to the boy.”

“I am nice!” You turn and start walking down the stairs

“Have fun,” she says. “Be bad if you wanna be.”

You make a grunting noise and proceed down the stairs. When you round the corner, you gasp when you see Obi-Wan standing in the entryway. “Holy shit,” you say under your breath.

“Yeah, no kidding.” You turn to see Kim standing behind you. “I thought Obi chicks didn´t thud. They look like they´re about to thud. In fact, I´m about to thud.”

You snicker as you watch Obi-Wan with a bemused expression as women come out of the woodwork and surround him. “Oh boy,” you say. “Now he´s really gonna be proud of himself.”

“Be nice to him,” Kim says.

“Why does everyone think I´m not nice?”

“That man looks like a hunka hunka burnin´ love,” she says. “Just be nice…or naughty, whichever works.”

You turn around and give her a leer. “You know we are just friends.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, giving you a leer right back.

“Later,” you say and walk toward Obi-Wan. You stand back for a minute and let him eat up all the attention.

“Ah,” he says, finally seeing you. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, are you?”

“Certainly,” he says, making his apologies and scooting toward the front door.

As the two of you step outside and down to the sidewalk, you say, “See, told ya. You can´t go wrong with black.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh please! Don´t play coy with me. You´ll never survive,” you say.

He laughs. “Right. I always forget that part.”

You board the shuttle to the convention center feeling surprisingly calm, especially given what happened yesterday. And thankfully it is not nearly as crowded with plenty of seats available.

“Sit,” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders and planting you firmly in a seat. He sits down next to you, close enough to keep you anchored between him and the wall.

“But I don´t want to sit next to the window,” you say.

“And I don´t want you flying down the aisle again. Deal with it,” he says.

You sigh and look down at the floor. “Fine.” And you stay that way for the duration of the trip, which occurs smoothly and without further incident.

As you stand behind him at the ticket booth for the carnival, you reach into your little purse and fish around for some money.

“That´s alright,” he says, purchasing two tickets before you can protest.

“You shouldn´t do that,” you say.

“Why not?”

“Because you´re a poor Jedi...even poorer now that you have new clothes,” you say.

“And you are a poor writer...even poorer now that you have to buy me birthday presents,” he says.

“Oh yeah! Now I´m the one being forgetful. Note to self: Buy Obi-Wan lots of cool stuff,” you say.

“I´m just teasing, you know,” he says. “I don´t want you spending any money on me.”

“I´m not,” you say.

“Oh,” he says a little dejectedly.

“But I am getting you a present,” you say.

“Oh!” His voice is enthusiastic and eyes bright. “But don´t make a fuss.”

“I´m not. Not spending a dime, in fact. Well, maybe a couple of dimes, but that´s about it.” You pause and then add, “And it´s not a rock.”

“A stone,” he says.

“Whatever,” you say. You look around as you walk through the gates and are rather astounded at the sight. This carnival is a cross between a Mardi Gras celebration and the county fairs you used to go to as a kid. “Wow,” you say. “I don´t think I´ve ever seen anything quite like this.”

“Oh look!” Obi-Wan points off to the side at a man in white makeup.

“He´s a mime,” you say.

“I know,” he says.

“They´re worse than clowns,” you say. “They´re like angsty clowns. Angsty, evil creatures.”

“Well then, let´s walk this way, shall we?” He guides you toward a long row of booths containing every assorted type of overpriced garbage known to man.

“Games!” You turn a different direction and head toward the center of the booths. “I wonder if these are as impossible to win as the ones back home.”

“They shouldn´t be too difficult,” Obi-Wan says, eyeing the different tables.

“You should have left that at home,” you say, pointing to his light saber, which is very noticeable without his robe…and with those tight pants.

“I can´t do that,” he says. “And why would I want to?”

“They´ll never let a Jedi play these games. You have a distinct advantage,” you say.

“Are you implying that I would cheat?”

“Yes,” you say.

“I would not.”

“You would. And you would justify it by saying it isn´t really cheating because you were born Force-sensitive so it´s just the same as someone who had more physical strength than the average person, or more intelligence than the average person,” you say.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You fancy yourself very smart.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well….then…. You play,” he says.

“Nah, these guys will cheat ya blind,” you say.

“Oh come now. Just one. Have a little fun,” he says.

You look around at the assorted games. They are very similar to the ones you used to play at the fair when you were a kid. Ball tosses, ring tosses, shooting galleries. “Nah, my aim is terrible,” you say.

“But you could win a giant stuffed Wookie,” he says.

“Why would I want one? Besides, you´re the guy. You´re supposed to win one for me,” you say.

He gives you a smirk and then removes his light saber. “Hold this,” he says.

You take it from him. “Wow, it´s heavy,” you say.

“No it´s not,” he says.

You roll your eyeballs and then grab him by the arm as he turns. “Wait,” you reach up toward his hair. “No…here, take this back for a sec.” You hand him the saber and then take hold of his braid and slip it down the back of his shirt. “Dead give away.” You try to stuff it under his collar the best you can. “Well, it´s dark. That´ll do,” you say, taking his saber back and holding it behind your back…a little nervous about actually holding it. “This thing isn´t gonna light up if I accidentally push something, will it?”

“Just don´t push anything,” he says.

“Obi-Wan.”

He smiles. “No, it won´t. You worry too much,” he says.

“Just go play,” you say. He turns around walks ahead of you, and you can´t help but notice how well he wears his new clothes as he stalks the booths. He finally stops in front of one.

“You will never win that one,” you say.

“What do you mean?”

“They´ve got those bottles practically nailed down. You´ll never knock them over,” you whisper so the guy behind the booth won´t hear you.

“I can do it,” he says with a mischievous look in his eye.

“Cheater,” you say.

“Be quiet,” he says. He puts his money down on the table and is handed three balls. He hurls the first ball at the bottles but only knocks the top one off. He throws the second one harder but only knocks two off. He turns to glare at you as you chuckle.

“Don´t worry about it,” the burly man behind the booth says. “These can be difficult for little guys like you.”

Obi-Wan´s face turns an interesting shade of red, and he launches the third and final ball, and the bottles go flying with exact precision in several directions, even the bottom ones.

“Well, we have a winner,” the big guy says unenthusiastically, grabbing a small, fuzzy, bright magenta thing off the wall.

“What´s this?” Obi-Wan asks, eyeing the big Wookies at the top of the wall.

“Your prize,” the man says. “You gotta win ten games to get one of those big ones. Wanna play again?”

“No thank you,” Obi-Wan says, taking his questionable winnings.

You really, really try to hide your laughter. You really do.

“Here,” he says, handing you the stuffed thing.

“For me? Aww, he´s cuuute,” you say as you take it from him after returning his weapon. “And you cheated.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

“Well, how else is anyone supposed to win that game?”

“They´re not. That´s what I tried to tell you.” You look at the other tables as you walk past. “Hey, wanna win a goldfish?”

“No,” he says shaking his head. “No more pets.”

“Alright, suit yourself,” you say, reaching up to pull his braid out of his shirt. You hold onto it for a moment and ask, “So when do you get rid of this?”

“Pardon?”

“The braid. When do you get to move up in the world?”

“Oh. Well, it´s rather complicated. It depends on how I perform my duties and when the Council thinks I´m ready to face the trials,” he says.

“What, like the SAT´s for Jedi?” He gives you a blank look, and you add, “It´s a test you have to take.”

“Ah. Well, they are little more than a test,” he says.

“Trials. Sounds stressful. Think I´ll keep my life as a glamorous nobody,” you say.

“Do you not care for it?”

“My life?”

“No…the braid,” he says.

“Actually, I like it very much,” you say.

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I can grab it in a threatening manner when I want to be fed. Shall I demonstrate?” You begin to wind it around your hand.

“It looks like the food booths are that way,” he says.

“Good man,” you say, releasing the braid and patting it to his chest. As you make your way toward the scent of dinner, you suddenly stop dead in your tracks and turn around quickly.

“What is it?” Obi-Wan comes back around to face you, a look of concern on his face. “What´s the matter?”

“Nothing,” you say.

“Something is wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong,” you say emphatically.

“Don´t play games,” he says. “Tell me now. You are very agitated.”

“See that guy behind me in the blue shirt? The one with the whore?”

His eyebrows shoot up at your blatant choice of words. “Yes, I see a man with a blue shirt,” he says.

“Ex-boyfriend,” you say.

“Ah. And you don´t wish to see him,” he says.

“Or her, the slut,” you say.

“Well, they seem to be walking this way,” he says.

“Oh great, that´s JUST what I need,” you say.

“Maybe I can help,” he says. You look up to see him staring rather intently. “They changed their minds,” he says with a smile.

“Are you allowed to go around whammying people?”

“Well, we´re not supposed to make a habit of it,” he says.

“Thank you,” you say. “I couldn´t bear to listen to him…or her…for one second.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“What´s to tell? He and I were together, she was a friend of mine. Betrayal, backstabbing, the end. Let´s eat,” you say, turning away from him. Before you can get very far, you are interrupted again.

“Well, look who we have here!” You turn around to see a slender woman with long blonde hair giving Obi-Wan the eye.

“Hello, Danya,” he says with a smile.

“You rat,” she says. “You haven´t called me once since…well, since….” She gives him an evil laugh.

You stand a few steps away just watching, trying not to wonder too much, and feeling your heart sink just a little. She´s gorgeous and obviously….familiar with him.

“I have been very busy,” he says politely.

“Well, you look positively scrumptious. So, what are you doing tonight?” She says, batting her eyelashes and slinking a little closer. You don´t know whether to laugh or disappear.

“I…I am here with a friend,” he says, gesturing toward you.

“Oh,” she says as she flips her hair and gives you a look. “Hello.”

“Hello,” you say with your best, polite smile.

“So if you will excuse me,” Obi-Wan says.

“Sure,” she squeaks with a shrug of her shoulders. “Call me sometime,” she adds with a glare in your direction as he walks away from her.

“Friend of yours,” you ask as he approaches you.

“Not really,” he says with a smile. “Ready to eat?”

“You think you´re all that and a bag o´chips, don´t you?”

“Pardon?”

“Come on,” you say. “Food.”

Dinner finally purchased, you look around for an empty table in a courtyard where a band plays something that sounds somewhat like swing music…only spacey.

“Over here,” Obi-Wan says, walking ahead of you finding a tiny table with one chair.

“We need another chair,” you say.

He takes your plate and sets it down followed by his. “You could sit on my lap again,” he says.

“Yeah, you´d like that, wouldn´t you?”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you and then looks around until he finds a free chair and pulls it over. “So,” he says as he sits down, “now that we´ve seen a couple of each other´s skeletons, let´s pretend that never happened.”

You snort, “At least you got to dump her.”

“I didn´t dump her, as you say. It was just—“

“Casual sex,” you say, laying the magenta creature on the table next to your plate.

His face wrinkles up. “Let´s not discuss this.”

“Fine with me,” you say with a huff.

“It was a bad breakup, then?”

“Hey, you said we were pretending we never saw them,” you say.

“You´re right. I´m sorry.”

You begin to eat and then say. “She was my friend. He was my boyfriend. They slept together…several times actually until I found out.”

“That´s terrible,” he says.

“Yeah. Well. Typical,” you say.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, he was terribly jealous and was dying to know who I was,” he says.

You nearly choke on your dinner. “What?”

“He was very loud about it, too,” he says. “It´s a good thing she didn´t know that.”

Curiosity piqued, you scoot your chair closer to his. “So what was she thinking?”

He shakes his head. “You don´t want to know.”

“Oh yes I do,” you say. “This is great, I never thought to ask you this kind of stuff before.”

“So you fancy me as your mole, do you?”

“No, of course not….but it couldn´t hurt. Tell me, tell me, what was she thinking?”

Obi-Wan smiles, “I really cannot do this.”

“Sure you can. It´s just me,” you say.

“My point exactly,” he says.

“Pleeeeeeaassse. Please, please, please,” you whine.

“I like the sound of that,” he says. “Begging suits you.”

“Brat,” you say and shove another fork full of food into your mouth.

“She didn´t think kind words about you. She is very insecure,” he says.

“Hell, I coulda told you that,” you say. “What kind of person sleeps with a friend´s boyfriend? An insecure person, that´s who.”

“True. It is good that you understand that,” he says.

“That´s a condemnation on my part, not an understanding. It hurt like hell what they did.” You shrug your shoulders and say, “It still does.”

“But you shouldn´t let it cloud your present…or your future,” he says.

“Listen,” you say. “Being betrayed by a man is one thing. If it happens once, you kind of expect it…. Well, not expect it, but you write it off to them being stupid men. But a friend´s betrayal is an entirely different thing. With men, it´s about sex and idiocy. With friends, it´s intentional. It has to be. A friend has to choose to stab her friend in the back.”

“And a man doesn´t choose to be unfaithful? That´s quite a generalization you´re making,” he says.

“Of course he chooses it, and he´s responsible for it. I guess it´s just that women should know better. There´s a certain bond that friends share that has to actively be broken,” you say. “I guess that doesn´t make a whole lot of sense. I just don´t understand why women would hurt each other over a man. And any man who would cheat isn´t worth having. So she´s got him. She can have him. I hope they´re miserably happy together.”

“And I was just beginning to think you were peacefully leaving the past behind,” he says.

“Hey, her betrayal is hard to get over. A man´s betrayal I can get past,” you say.

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” you say.

“I don´t believe you,” he says.

“Are you mind whammying me now, too?”

“No. You hold a lot of resentment against men in general. That simply isn´t fair,” he says.

“Don´t tell me what I think,” you say.

“It´s the truth, isn´t it?”

“The fact is, there are no good men out there. The only good men I know are my friends.”

“And what is wrong with your friends?”

“Nothing. But they´re friends. Guy friends. Not serious relationships.” Obi-Wan looks down and you add, “I mean, they´re serious relationships. Important relationships. But not love relationships in that whole…lover sense.”

He looks up at you. “But many people – people in…relationships – begin as friends.”

“True. But….” You swallow hard, suddenly uncomfortable with where this is going. “Friendships are a valuable thing. I´ve known more then a few people who have had really great friendships and decided to take it to the next level….only to have it totally fall apart. And then the friendship is ruined for good.”

“It doesn´t have to be that way,” he says.

“Well, you can´t exactly go back to being just friends…the way it was before….”

“I mean that….” His eyes search for the right words. “It doesn´t have to turn out badly. If two people are meant….” He clears his throat. “Some relationships turn out very well. If two people are friends and they take the risk to become more than that, there is a chance it could end disastrously….but there is also the chance that the relationship could be truly wonderful. And without taking that risk into something more…”

“Catch-22. Either way, they´re screwed,” you say. Then you snort, “Literally and figuratively.”

Obi-Wan leans forward and says quietly but adamantly, “Why must you always be so flippant?”

You look away and play with your food. “I´m not always flippant.” A long pause follows until you say, “Defense mechanism, I guess.”

“Against what?” He asks the question like he knows the answer but it just trying to get you to admit it.

“I´ve been hurt. I don´t what to be hurt again,” you say.

“I know. But that is just an excuse for avoiding making any decisions or taking any action,” he says.

You flash him an angry look. “It is not JUST an excuse.”

“Please, calm down. I am not trying to belittle your experiences. I am only saying that there comes a point where you move on. You decided that you are not going to allow the past to control your life. You learn all you can from those experiences, and then you get on with things,” he says.

You sigh. You know he´s right. “It´s just hard….” You cross your arms tightly in front of you.

“I know. But you know now what not to repeat.” He pauses. “What do you want?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I dunno.”

“Yes, you do,” he says. “What do you want?”

You shift in your chair, cornered. “I want….” You sigh again.

“Go on,” he says softly.

“I want…” You blow your hair out of your face and look up at the night sky. “It´s stupid.”

“No it isn´t,” he says.

“I want to be…” You begin to shake your head.

“You want to be what?”

“Special…to someone,” you say and then give a nervous laugh. “It´s stupid, but—“

“How can that be stupid? You are special. And you deserve someone who knows that…who will treat you that way,” he says.

You bite your lip. “The perfect man does not exist,” you say.

“He doesn´t have to be perfect,” he says. “He just has to be good to you.”

You laugh again. “Just? Like I said, there are no good men around.” Then you smile softly and say, “Present company excluded, of course.” You look back down at your food and trace little circles with your fork.

“You think so?” His tone is very serious.

You look up from your plate. You have one of those oh-God-what´s-happening moments and answer, “You´re the best man I know.”

He smiles. “I suppose that probably isn´t saying much based on your experience.”

“It´s saying a lot. Believe me,” you say. Then you smile. “I´m putting the past behind me, remember?”

“Hmmm,” is his only response.

The music slows down, and you finish eating in relative silence.

Suddenly he says, “I don´t know if I´d say that a Jedi is a good man.”

“Well, I´ll be sure not to spread that around too much. Might disappoint a lot of people,” you say.

He smiles and continues, “What I mean is that…. A woman can never come first in my – in a Jedi´s – life. That is just the kind of life that we live. My priority is never myself or someone in my life. And I don´t mean that in a callous or uncaring way.”

“I know what you´re saying. You are a Jedi first and foremost. Makes sense,” you say. “Makes you a total chick magnet, too.” You are determined to keep this light as you feel it slipping toward something much more serious.

He smiles but his face turns thoughtful again. “If I were to…meet someone….someone special…. It…it would be difficult.”

“Sure,” you say.

“What I am saying is that….” He looks nervous and pushes his fork around his plate. “What I am trying to say is….” He looks toward the stage as the music changes again. Then he looks down at the ground and back to you. “A woman who would be special to me would be the kind of person who deserved more than I could give her. No matter how much I cared for someone, I could never be the kind of man that she deserved.”

“I….” You clear your throat. “I think that she would know what she was getting into. And if she really cared about you, she would understand…difficult as it might be.”

He nods and says, “But she would deserve better than an inconstant relationship with a man who could not, by virtue of his birth, make her a priority. The emotion and caring would not be inconstant, but it could never be more than infrequent hours and days spent together.”

“But it would be her choice,” you say. “Some people would give up years of constant time with another person for a few days spent here and there with someone they truly, completely…loved.”

“Would they really?” He leans back in his chair. “Or is that just romantic fantasy? As the years go by, would the love remain without the construct of marriage and family? When each lives their own, separate life…could the one left behind when missions call be truly happy?”

“I don´t know,” you say. “It´s not a thing you can reason out or predict.”

He smiles. “I suppose that is the nature of love.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” you say, nodding.

“So what would you do?”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Hypothetically speaking, what would you do? Would you take that kind of risk for love?”

“It´s not a sure thing. That´s the catch. It´s a risk taken on the outside chance that love will find you. Odds are, it won´t,” you say. “Odds are you´ll take the leap and end up landing right on your head.”

“So do you take the risk?” His eyes are intense and anticipatory.

You think for a moment. “Well…the odds have always been against me…for the most part.”

He repeats. “So do you take the risk?”

You inhale deeply and shake your head slightly. “I don´t know. I just don´t know.”

He nods in understanding and looks back to the stage as the band continues to play. He looks back at you and says, “Enough seriousness. Would you like to dance?”

“Sure,” you say and stand up. You walk in front of him to where a small crowd is dancing to the slow, sweet music…a slightly awkward air between you. You stop at the edge of the crowd and turn to face him. He steps forward and carefully takes your hand in his. You place your hand on his shoulder, and he winds his arm around you, pulling you in closer to his body. You have never quite felt his warmth until now. His closeness before always felt comfortable…a safe distance buffered by many layers of clothing and the scent of wool. But now you can feel his skin through the relatively thin fabric of his shirt, and you inhale a scent distinctly his own. This sudden intimacy – as innocent as it may seem to a casual observer – startles you and you shiver.

You slowly begin to move to the music, and suddenly he speaks, his lips so close to your ear. “If anything should ever happen to me….”

You gasp. “Oh God, don´t say that.”

“Please…I….” He sighs, his breath tickling your forehead. “Given what has happened recently….”

“Nothing is going to happen to you.”

“Even so,” he says. “I never got the chance to tell Cre what our friendship meant to me.”

“He knew. Friends know without having to say it,” you say.

“Nevertheless…. Our friendship – yours and mine – is very special to me,” he says.

“It is to me, too,” you say.

He moves his head back and places his forehead against yours. “And you…are special to me.”

For a moment you cannot breathe, and you look down, unable to meet his eyes.

“I would never hurt you,” he whispers. “No matter what happens…. I would never do anything hurt you.”

A thousand thoughts run through your brain, all conflicting and all confusing. “Obi-Wan, I…. I just don´t know,” you whisper nervously.

“That´s all right,” he says. His hand runs up your back and into your hair, and he pulls your head down to his shoulder, cradling you in his neck. “That´s all right,” he whispers again. He lets go of your hand and circles your shoulders with his other arm, as your free arm embraces him, too. Suddenly, his voice rumbles in your ear as you rest your head on his chest, “Just be sure to give me a good birthday present.”

You chuckle. “I promise.” The protective part of your brain attempts to deny what just took place. But as you continue to slowly dance – you gently twining his braid around your fingers and he caressing his cheek against your hair – that deeper part of you knows, understands, that no matter what you believe your choices to be, you are being led toward something inevitable.

Part 13

You hang up the phone and run out into the hall and yell out loud for anyone who can hear. “They´re back! Party! We gotta have a party!”

In the distance you hear a “Woo-hoo!”

You laugh at Kim and hurry back into your bedroom and grab your notebook, ripping out the page with the grocery list you have ready…amazed that you are so organized for this. It´s going to be simple, just birthday cake and assorted snacks and such. But you only have 24 hours – less, in fact, now that you look at the clock – to get his present ready. The boy never had cupcakes, so he´s getting cupcakes. It´s not that creative or impressive, but baking is something you´re pretty damn good at so that´s what he´s getting. Food is always an appropriate gift, no matter the occasion. When you´re short on cash, effort is always a good substitute. You grab your purse and jacket and head out for the grocery store.

You awake earlier than normal the following morning. You roll out of bed and grab your trusty flannel shirt and sweats. A shower and presentable clothes can come later. First, you bake.

You happily slide the cupcake pan into the oven, pleased with your batter and its proper chocolate content. Now you have to tackle the frosting while they bake. You put the small pan on the stovetop and let the butter melt over low heat while you begin to chop the chocolate and whistle a tune as it comes into your head.

As the chocolate melts lusciously in the pan, you dig out the small hand mixer and prepare for the onslaught of powdered sugar. Once the chocolate is completely melted, you begin to add the sugar and slowly introduce the mixer, keeping it on low speed to avoid inhaling the sugar. You try to keep a steady hand on the mixer to avoid spattering the frosting out of the pan.

“Good morning!”

You jump and involuntarily jerk the mixer out of the pan, spraying warm chocolate goo all over the counter, the wall, and you. You turn toward the voice with an evil glare. “Obi-Wan!!” Your brain finally engages, and you switch off the mixer and drop the pan back to the stove with a clatter and shut off the burner.

“Ooohh nooo,” he says, covering his mouth with his hand. “I´m so sorry. I wasn´t thinking.”

“Obviously,” you say, grabbing a towel and slapping him with it before wiping the frosting off your arm.

“You…you,” he says pointing around in the air. “On your face, too.” He begins to grin a little.

“It´s not funny!”

“I´m sorry,” he says, trying to put on a serious face.

You wipe your cheeks with the towel, and then it dawns on you. “Hey! Get outta here.”

“What?”

“Top secret stuff. Move it,” you order, pushing him toward the door. “It´s probably ruined now, though.”

He looks into the pan. “It looks good, whatever it is,” he says. He attempts to poke his finger into the chocolate, but you whack his hand with a wooden spoon.

“Out,” you say, waving the spoon at him.

“Well, that´s not a very good welcome home…beating me with kitchen utensils,” he mumbles as you hurry him out into the hallway.

“Excuse me, pouty boy, but I´m trying to have a birthday party for you,” you say. “I don´t have time to coddle you.”

He laughs and turns around to face you once you´re out in the hallway. “I will forgive you on account of your inevitable martyrdom.”

“Hey,” you say, whacking his arm with the spoon.

“Alright, alright,” he says, raising his hands in defense. “I´ll leave you to your business. I just thought I´d stop by and see how you are.”

“I am fine,” you say. “And your mission? Exciting? Full of galactic intrigue?”

“Oh, of course,” he says. “In fact, I´m exhausted from the excitement.”

“Well, in that case,” you say, “you´re probably too burned out for a birthday party.”

“Nooo,” he says with a gentle whine. “I am looking forward to it.” A silly grin forms on his face. “Especially my present.”

“You´re getting a little greedy in your old age,” you say.

“You planted the idea in my head,” he says. “My corruption is your responsibility.”

You laugh. “I think that began long before you started slumming with me.”

“Perhaps,” he says. “Well, I will take my leave. I will see you later this evening.”

“Sounds good,” you say. “Glad to see you back safely.”

He smiles and just looks at you.

“What?”

“You have chocolate on your face,” he says as he points to the approximate location. “Right….no, a little higher…there.”

You rub your fingers near your nose in an attempt to remove it.

“Wait,” he says. His hand moves toward your face. “Let me do it.” He rubs a spot above your lip. “There, just about perfect.”

“Just about?” you ask with a tease. As he moves his hand away, his fingers lightly brush your lips, and you are caught off-guard by a tremor running through your body. You stand, frozen, staring at him. He does the same, staring at you. Both of his hands lightly brush your cheeks, and his face moves a little closer…then backs up a bit…and then moves closer still.

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he whispers, just millimeters from your lips. Your breathing has become slightly erratic, and you are sure the whole building can hear your heart pounding. Your breath catches sharply as his face moves slightly closer. Your senses are overwhelmed by him, and your body begins to tremble as his fingers continue to gently stroke your face. You can practically feel the sparks arc between your lips and his as he hovers just beyond you. And then….the line is crossed. His lips barely – just barely – brush against yours, avoiding full contact, but definitely beyond chaste.

“Alright you two, get a room!”

You jump and smack your head into the wall. You slide nervously to the side, and Obi-Wan leans against the wall where you once stood. Your eyes finally focus and you see a couple of the girls, Terri and Nicole, grinning at you. “H-Hi,” you stutter. And then you feel Obi-Wan´s hand on your shoulder as he steps up to your side, his thumb lightly rubbing THAT spot under your ear. You gasp at the seemingly innocent touch.

“So, birthday boy,” Terri says. “Are you ready for your party tonight?”

“Absolutely,” he says, smiling at them and then at you as he continues to stroke your neck.

You swallow hard.

“Well,” Terri says. “You´d better scoot so we can get to work on this party.”

Just then, you hear the timer in the kitchen. You turn your head toward the high-pitched beeping. “I…. I gotta get that,” you say. You move quickly into the kitchen and switch it off. You take a deep breath as Obi-Wan enters the kitchen…followed by Terri and Nicole.

“Mmmm…smells good in here,” Nicole says.

You stand nervously, finding it very difficult to look at Obi-Wan at the moment.

“Yes…well…I´d better be going,” he says. He walks to you, somewhat oblivious to your audience, and runs his fingers across your forehead, pushing your hair aside. He then not-so-quickly kisses your temple and your cheek before moving back as your breath catches again. “See you tonight.”

Despite the trembling of your body and numbness of your brain, a funny thought strikes you. “I´ll go,” you say.

“Hmmm?”

“I´ll go…to your party thing,” you say.

“I´m sorry? I thought you were organizing this party.”

“No, not your birthday party. The Temple thing. The one you asked me about before,” you say. “I´ve decided I´ll go…if you haven´t found a date already.”

He smiles broadly and swoops back in to kiss your forehead. “I would love that. Thank you,” he says, quickly nuzzling your forehead with his nose. Then he takes a few steps back, watching you in your semi-stunned state, and turns to go.

You finally fully exhale once he is gone and smile awkwardly at Terri and Nicole who just sit and look at you. Then you exclaim, “Oh crap!” You jump for the potholders. open the oven door, and remove the cupcakes. You switch off the oven and then survey the damage from your frosting fiasco.

Two hours later, you work is done. The cupcakes came out practically perfect, complete with sprinkles. You´ve assembled the troops to decorate the party room and make sure the food arrives on time…especially the cake. Now you just need to shower and decide what to wear. But instead, you sit on the corner of your bed, bouncing up and down nervously. It was a kiss. Most definitely a kiss. The beginnings of a kiss, perhaps, but still a kiss. The fact that your lips tingle when you recall the moment proves beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was a kiss.

You continue to bounce for a good, long while, pondering what all this means. Then you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. You look brooding and serious. You stand up and walk to the mirror and tell yourself, “Obi-Wan kissed you.” Then you break out into giddy laughter…a laughter you haven´t felt for ages. You cover your mouth with your hand and stare at yourself in disbelief. “He kissed you!” And then you laugh again. And slowly but surely you allow yourself to feel all the wonderful, silly, earth-shattering emotions of falling for him…and falling hard.

You flop down on your bed and giggle some more. You aren´t quite sure how long you lay there, muttering and giggling. You finally look over at the clock and realize how much time you´ve wasted. “Oops!” You spring up from the bed and march into the bathroom.

After your shower, you rummage through your closet. Your clothes suddenly look boring and not quite up to the occasion for this birthday party. “To the smut closet,” you say heartily as you turn on your heel and hurry out your bedroom door.

You begin to giggle again as you examine the array of options in the smut closet. And –dare you think it – the possibility of sex crosses your mind as well….which makes you laugh even more as you imagine trying to even get into some of the vinyl items hanging in that section of the closet.

You come across a dress with promising potential. It hangs in the more respectable wardrobe section, of course, but it beats what you´ve got in your own closet. And then your eyes fall on IT, and you laugh out loud. You reach forward and pull it off the rack. You hold the green and blue plaid skirt at arm´s length and grin. You then grab the little white blouse that was hanging next to it and examine the two of them together. You turn toward the mirror and hold them up to your body. You laugh again, as it is obvious that the skirt would barely cover your ass, especially with the pleats giving it an extra kick.

“Let me guess…naughty schoolgirl.”

You turn to see Terri standing in the doorway of the large closet. You smile and say, “Yeah, is it me?”

“Sure, why not? Men are suckers for that. Especially him,” she says.

“Him, who?”

“Obi-Wan, of course. The poor, poor padawan pining away for….” She looks around in the air. “What was her name again? Started with a ‘P.´ Pil-something, I think.”

You swallow hard. “Pilara.”

“Yeah! That´s it!” She laughs. “Men are so silly. Is there a woman in this building he hasn´t told that naughty schoolgirl secret to?”

“The Qui-chicks, perhaps,” you say, forcing a smile.

She nods. “Yeah, you´re right. So, are you gonna wear it?”

“Nah, probably not,” you say.

“Oh, you should! Trust me, you´ll score some major points. Tell me,” she says, “has he given you the friend hypothesis yet?”

“The what?”

“You know, the bit about friends becoming more than friends…about taking the risk and going for something more….”

Your giddiness has just packed up and left. “Oh, that bit. Yes, I think I´ve heard that.”

She scurries over to you. “I know it sounds silly and cliché…and I know I should be a smarter woman…but let me tell you, there´s something about Obi-Wan telling you how special you are…how him being a Jedi isn´t good enough for you…that you deserve more…. I mean, I know he must say that to everyone, but it´s just the way it sounds coming from him.”

“Yeah,” you say. It´s all you can say.

“And he´s just so darn beautiful and delicious. You can´t help but eat that up. And besides…. I think he really does believe it. You know, in the moment. I think he´s just a romantic guy. Certainly can´t hold that against him,” she says.

“No. No, you can´t,” you say as your brain goes numb.

“And he´s just so gentlemanly about it…. Like asking your permission for the relationship to go further. Most guys today don´t have the first clue about how to treat a woman, you know?”

“Yes, I know,” you say.

Terri shakes her head. “I´m sorry, you must think I´m a total airhead. Here I am all flighty and giddy over him. But he just has that effect on me.” She smiles. “I know we probably should be kicking his ass for playing us all off of each other, but when he smiles….” She sighs and then laughs. “I´m such a dork!”

“No you´re not,” you say.

“Yes, I am,” she says as her cheeks blush.

You turn around slowly, your hands shaking slightly, and hang the blouse and skirt back up.

“Aren´t you going to wear that?”

“No,” you say.

“Why not?”

“Just don´t feel like it,” you say.

“Aw, c´mon! It´ll be great. He will love it, trust me! Don´t forget, I saw you two in the hallway this morning. Now, he swore me to secrecy on the naughty schoolgirl bit. But just between us girls, that man would not be able to resist you for a moment longer if he saw you in that,” she says. “C´mon, give it a go.”

You shake your head. “No. I´ll just wear something out of my closet. But feel free if you want it,” you say.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” you say, trying to maintain your composure.

“Oh, I don´t know,” she says. “I´ll think about it.”

“Whatever,” you say. “I´d better get moving.”

Terri smiles. “Yeah, me too. See you later. Then she looks at her watch. Oh, not too much later. Party starts in a half-hour. Where´d the time go?”

You smile and shrug your shoulders. “See you later,” you say as you walk out of the closet and head slowly back to your room.

You sit on your bed now, just staring at yourself in the mirror. “Idiot,” you say to your reflection. “Stupid, dumb, desperate female idiot.” Anger, humiliation, sorrow…it all rises up inside you. You stand up and give yourself a hard look. “You will not cry.” Then you hear the sounds of people milling around downstairs. “Shit.” Now what? You consider not going. But you can´t do that. You planned it. If you don´t show, he´ll probably come looking for you, and alone time is not what you want right now. You might kill him…or worse, you may become a blubbering fool.

Is it his fault? You chose to believe him. He is a man, after all. His friendship is real…that much you know. You were just dumb enough to buy his lines. But if he were a true friend, would he give you lines? The last conquest, that´s what you were. It killed him that he couldn´t get you into bed, so he used your emotions to almost get you there. You stare at yourself in the mirror again. “This is Obi-Wan we´re talking about here. He wouldn´t—“ You stop speaking because you cannot make sense of it.

In the mirror you see the reflection of the box of cupcakes you baked for him, all wrapped up and ready to go. You turn quickly and grab the box, ripping off the wrapping paper. You tear off the lid and look at the innocent little cupcakes, their multi-colored sprinkles smiling up at you, their sweet, rich scent making your stomach growl. Then the hurt, betrayed, and pissed-off you kicks in. You march into the bathroom and begin throwing cupcakes into the toilet. One after another after another. You rapidly destroy your hard work until only one cupcake remains, and you suddenly stop yourself before that one meets its fate.

“How very immature,” you say. “And totally disgusting as well,” you remark as you view the soggy chocolate floating in the toilet. You flush it and watch Obi-Wan´s birthday present swirl around and wash away. Unfortunately, a large amount of soggy cupcake remains in the bowl. “Totally, completely disgusting,” you say as you walk out of the bathroom with one cupcake still in your hand. You sit down on the bed and eat it, admiring your culinary skills while cursing the playboy who waits downstairs.

“Well, at least you didn´t sleep with him,” you say as you eat the last bite. It doesn´t feel like much consolation. Perhaps some good sex would´ve have helped offset your self-loathing at the moment. “How could I have been so stupid,” you growl as you stand up and try to figure out what to wear now. You grab a plain, old black dress out of your closet and quickly change into it. You look kind of frumpy, and you certainly aren´t going to bother with hair and makeup. You will just go downstairs, be nice, and make a quick exit. “Remember the ‘be nice´ part,” you tell your reflection before you walk out of the room.

You see him the minute you walk into the room. “Dammit,” you say under your breath as he smiles and quickly makes his way toward you….wearing those black clothes of his, of course.

“Hello,” he says. He leans in and kisses your cheek.

You back away quickly, “Hello.”

He examines you for a moment. “Everything alright?”

“Sure. Fine,” you say. Then you remember to lock your mind up tight.

He eyes you a moment longer and then smiles. “Thank you for the party.”

“No problem,” you say. Just standing next to him could make you forgive everything that he´s done. But you´re not going to let that happen. This is his game, and you are not going to play. You have to be smart this time. He, himself, told you that you have to learn from past mistakes and not repeat them. You stop thinking as his eyes fix on you again.

“And the cake,” he says. “It´s looks great. Is that what you were working on earlier?”

“No, I didn´t make the cake.”

“Oh,” he says. “Something is wrong, isn´t it?”

“No, I´m just tired,” you say.

“That´s not it,” he says. “It´s something else. What is it?”

“Must you always give me the third degree?”

“It´s just that…something is wrong. I know you well enough—“

“Don´t presume to know me so well, Obi-Wan,” you say a little too sharply.

“I´m sorry,” he says. “Did I….” He sighs. “I stepped over the line earlier, didn´t I?”

You are not quite sure how to respond to that. Hell yes, he stepped way over the line…but long ago. Pegging you as a babe to bag was stepping over the line. Using all the friend bullshit on you was stepping over the line. But if this man was just trying to get sex out of you, why would he bother spending so much time…. You shut your mind off again.

He puts his hands on your shoulders. “Tell me what I´ve done,” he says in a hushed plea.

You can´t deal with this now. “Nothing, Obi-Wan. I´m fine. You´re fine. Everything is fine. Please just enjoy your party,” you say, making a valiant attempt at a smile.

That seems to placate him, and he picks up his mood. “So how do these things work? When do I get to open my presents?”

“Wow, I´ve really messed you up for good, haven´t I?”

“Yes, I believe so,” he says.

“Well then, have a seat. Let´s get to some presents,” you say. An hour, tops. That´s all you have to get through.

Obi-Wan opens his gifts like a five year-old kid. With each gift he picks up, he gives you a hopeful look, and you slowly hack away at yourself. If you were really worked up, you´d have no problem telling him that your gift is traveling through the sewer lines. But you can´t do that to him. So you remain silent. His gifts are an assortment of items – food, books, various naughty presents. And with each one he opens, you can´t help imagining what kinds of stories he told the giver…the same ones he told you, no doubt. The problem is that you knew this about him. You KNEW it. And you chose to overlook it. However, the real fact is that you didn´t choose it. It just happened. You fell for him, and now it´s going to hurt.

He reaches for the last gift and gives you a big smile. He just knows it´s from you, and you want to crawl under the table. But why all this concern for his feelings? You are the one he´s been playing with. But why would he care so much about your gift if he were just playing games? He opens the card, and you watch with sadness as his face drops when he sees that it isn´t from you. It´s not an expression that anyone else would catch, but you see it. And, apparently, so does Qui-Gon. The Master looks at you…and you at him.

The wrappings and boxes are cleared away, and you sit next to Obi-Wan without speaking as he thanks everyone. None of the words you hear actually sink in while you bide your time and wait for your exit.

“Well, that was fun,” he says.

“Good. I´m glad you enjoyed it,” you say. “Now you get to have your cake.”

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, I suppose so.”

You know he will never ask about your gift, and you can´t quite think of the right words to say. You look over at Obi-Wan and see him looking in the other direction. You follow his line of sight, and you eyes fall upon Terri…dressed in that short plaid skirt and little white blouse. As she walks across the room his eyes follow her intently, seemingly oblivious to you studying him. She stops to talk to some other girls, and his eyes stop on her. And with that, you slip out of your chair and walk out of the room, up the stairs, and into your bedroom. You lock the door, sit down on the floor next to the bed, and cry.

Part 14

Your tears aren´t as dramatic as you expected as you sit leaning against your bed. This isn´t a sob brought on by heartbreak, but instead a familiar sorrow once again confirmed. Tears flow silently down your face as you inhale and exhale…inhale and exhale. You try to bring on a sob, hoping to purge this pain. But it won´t happen. You blow out a heavy sigh and wipe your face, making way for more silent tears.

You hear footsteps in the hall that stop at your door. The door shakes as whoever it is tries to open it and then discovers that you locked it. Then you hear your name called through the door.

But you don´t answer. You stand up and crawl onto the bed, burying your face in your pillow and pulling another one over your head.

He knocks and calls your name again. “Please let me in.”

You curl up on your side and grab the pillow tighter to your head. Maybe if you´re really quiet, he´ll just give up.

“I know you´re in there,” he says. “Please open the door.”

You close your eyes and wish him away.

“Please,” he says a little more agitated. “I am worried about you.”

::Yeah. Whatever.::

He calls your name in a more commanding tone this time. “If you don´t unlock the door…. I´m coming in whether you unlock it or not.”

You reach over and switch off the light.

“I saw that,” he says.

::Good for you.::

The doorknob rattles. And a moment later the door swings open.

::Shit.::

Obi-Wan walks over to your bed and turns the light on.

“Turn it off,” you mumble, still holding the pillow over your head, consciously fighting the urge to sniffle.

“What is going on?” He sits down next to you on the bed, laying a hand on your arm.

“I´m tired,” you say.

“You seem very upset,” he says.

“I don´t feel good,” you say. “I just want to sleep. Please turn the light off.”

“Talk to me for a moment,” he says, pulling gently at the pillow over your head.

“I have a headache,” you say, grabbing the pillow tighter. “Please turn the light off.”

“Are you sure you´re alright?”

“I just have a headache. It hurts. Please turn the light off,” you say.

He finally switches off the light. “I am sorry you´re not feeling well. Maybe I can do something to help you.”

“No. I just want to be alone,” you say.

“But—“

“Please. Go enjoy your party,” you say.

“I don´t know if I can now,” he says.

“Sorry to ruin it for you,” you say.

“That´s not what I meant,” he says, rubbing your back.

You tense your muscles despite the pleasant sensation. Part of you wants to tell him everything and part of you just wants to scream and another part of you just doesn´t want to cope. You choose the latter. “Please, Obi-Wan, just go so I can sleep.”

He removes his hand from your back. “If that´s what you want….”

“Yes, it is.”

He sighs and stands up. “I will stop by tomorrow to see how you are doing.”

“Sure.”

“Well…. Good night, then,” he says quietly. “I hope you are feeling better. If you need anything—“

“Good night,” you say.

He sighs again and begins to walk away. You hear him stop for a moment, and then he continues walking again, leaving the room without another word and closing the door behind him.

You breathe out a sigh of relief and toss the pillow off your head. You wait until you don´t hear his footsteps anymore and then turn on the light. You grab your notebook and begin to write, knowing no other way to sort this out.

When you wake up the next morning, you consider planning some sort of day-long activity to keep you away because you do not doubt that Obi-Wan will come to check on you. But then you decide that it´s better dealt with sooner than later. Your avoidance will only cause him to be more persistent. And, feeling relatively anger-free at the moment, you find yourself mostly capable of doing what must be done.

Then again, you feel the need to keep busy. After a shower you head downstairs and discover that the party room is still in disarray. So you take to cleaning it up. You gather plates and forks and set them on one table. Then you slowly wander around kicking at balloons that are scattered around the floor.

“I thought I´d find you here,” Obi-Wan says as he enters the room.

“Hi,” you say casually and quickly step back to your cleanup job.

“How are you feeling?” He gives you a kind smile.

“Fine,” you say.

“Well, that´s good news. I was worried about you,” he says.

“No need,” you say, busying yourself with collecting utensils.

“So what happened?”

“When?” you ask innocently.

“Last night. What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

He walks toward you. “As you recall, you ran out of this room with no explanation. I didn´t even know you were out of your chair until you were halfway out the room. And you ignored me when I called out to you.”

You feel a spike of anger and say, “So where was your famous Jedi focus if you didn´t even notice I had left?”

“Something caught my attention,” he says.

“Oh really? What?” The vision of naughty schoolgirl Terri strutting past your table enters your mind for a fraction of a second before you banish it and lock your mind.

He shakes his head. “It´s not worth mentioning.”

“I see.”

He immediately adds, “But I don´t want you to think that my delayed response meant that I wasn´t aware of your exit. You left rather quickly and without a word. Why is that?”

“I told you, I was sick,” you say as you wipe down a table.

“Is that all?”

“Isn´t that enough?”

“I´m sorry. It just seems odd that you would run out of the room over a headache,” he says.

You turn to face him. “Why are you nitpicking over this?”

“It just seems that….” Then he smiles. “I´m sorry. If you´re fine, then I´m fine.”

“Well, everybody is happy then,” you say with your best smile.

“I´m glad to hear it,” he says, stalking toward you. You feel your heart race as he moves closer, but you force yourself back into neutral mode as he places a warm kiss on your cheek and makes a hesitant motion toward your lips. You back up a couple of steps and take a deep breath. “What is it?” he asks.

“I…. I can´t do this,” you say.

“What do you mean?”

“I´ve been thinking, and….” You take another deep breath to try and make this sound as convincing as possible. “I don´t think that I can be more than a friend to you.”

His expression turns grave. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” you say.

“SOMETHING happened,” he says. “What changed between yesterday and today?”

“I just had time to think, that´s all,” you say.

“This doesn´t make sense,” he says.

“It does,” you say. “Obi-Wan, you and I are two different people. I am not willing to gamble away our friendship. You are my friend…a very good friend, but that is all it can be. I…. It just feels better this way.”

“It does?”

“To me, it does,” you say.

His eyes reveal pain. “But that kiss—“

“A mistake,” you say.

“No.”

“Yes.”

He shakes his head. “I cannot accept this.”

“You have no choice,” you say a little more intently. “I´ve thought about this a lot…even before yesterday and before the talk we had the other night.”

“I sense that something else is going on here,” he says.

“Well…. You´re wrong,” you say. “There isn´t anything else going on. And that´s part of the problem. I like you very much…care for you very much, but as a friend.”

“I don´t feel that way,” he says. “And I don´t believe you do, either.”

Your brain bumbles around for a minute. “Look, I want more out of my life than to be the girl waiting around for you to come home.”

He looks down, his expression confused…dejected even. “But…. You wouldn´t be…. You are so much more than that.”

You snort…a little, but it´s enough to get his attention.

“What has happened to make you think so ill of me all of a sudden?”

“I don´t think ill of you.” Lies work when they need to.

“But that kiss—“

“So we kissed. It happens. That doesn´t mean that everything has to change because of it. You are a very attractive man. I lost my head for a second or two. But the fact of the matter is that I cannot live my life to be the girl who waits around for you to come home…who arranges her life around your free time,” you say.

“But you´re so much more than that,” he says.

“There are plenty of other women who would be willing to lay in wait for you.”

“What is going on here?”

You look him in the eye and say very matter-of-factly, “I think I deserve someone who will love me and who will BE THERE…someone who will put me first before his friends, his job, his own good times, or whatever. I´m sorry if you don´t see it that way. Perhaps that´s telling.”

Your words enter him like tiny daggers. You can see it in his face, and for a moment you feel sorry for him. For this man who can never have what most people take for granted. Love…the kind that comes with companionship and the mundane activities in which love truly lives. So instead he plays the field and gets out of women what he can before his duty calls him away again.

“I am sorry for trying to push you into something you do not want. I understand. I don´t like it, but I understand,” he says.

“Good,” you say.

“I hope that we can still be friends,” he says.

“Of course,” you say, as you turn away to busy yourself again.

“Well….” He shifts on his feet. “I should go.”

“Yes, I have things to do,” you say.

“See you later?”

You shrug as you scrub the table a little harder than necessary. “Sure. See you around.”

“Goodbye,” he says quietly, turning to go.

“Bye,” you say, squeezing the cloth very hard as you pause your cleaning frenzy. You hear the front door open and then shut quietly. You sit down in a chair and rub your temples. “It´ll be fine,” you say. “Everything will be fine…but he certainly didn´t fight for you, did he?” You sigh and toss the cloth onto the table. “But why would he?” You swallow hard and force that terrible ache back down inside you.

Part 15

So you remain friends. Casual friends….or more like casual acquaintances now. All because of testosterone. Well, that´s life. He doesn´t go out of his way to see you, and you don´t go out of your way to see him. You sit in the garden late at night like you always did, slightly hopeful….but not surprised that he doesn´t come. When you do see each other, you are polite, cordial….stilted.

On this particular day, you decide you need to eat. Not just eat, but EAT. So you head into the kitchen and peruse the cupboards to determine what can be created. Something….comfort food…. You decide you want french fries, but you can´t exactly make those. You find a half a bag of frozen tator tots and some leftover pizza. Well, it´ll do.

You put the tator tots in the oven and proceed to nuke the pizza. It actually tastes better if you reheat it in the toaster oven, but when hunger – and self-pity – calls, you´ll take your pizza a little soggy, as long as it´s warm.

You sit on a stool at the island and shove too-hot pizza into your mouth. You breathe in and out really fast to try to cool it off, but end up having to spit it out onto the plate before you cause your mouth some serious damage.

“Are you alright?”

You look up quickly to see Qui-Gon standing in the doorway. Oh God. “It´s hot,” you say. “I…I don´t normally spit food when other people are around.”

He nods with a smile.

“Um….” You shift in your chair. “No one is really around. I think Kayla—“

“That´s alright,” he says. “Do you mind if I sit down for a moment?”

“Sure, go ahead,” you say, gesturing to one of the stools next to you. He sits and you feel slightly uncomfortable. He towers over you even when he´s not standing. Just then, the oven timer goes off, and you get up to take the pan out of the oven. You dump the tator tots onto a plate, add a puddle of ketchup, and another puddle of taco sauce just for good measure. You sit back down with your heart-attack-on-a-plate and look up at Qui-Gon who has an amused expression. “Tator tot?”

“No, thank you,” he says. “So, how are you?”

“I am well,” you say. “And yourself?”

“Fine, thank you.”

“You guys were gone for a while,” you say.

He nods. “That happens. But we always come back.”

“I should hope so,” you say with a smile. “We worry about you.”

“Why?”

“Because we care,” you say.

He smiles, his eyes squinting a bit.

“You sure you don´t want something to eat? I´ve heard about the….interesting food they have at the Temple. We have….”

“No, truly I am fine,” he says. “Thank you for offering.”

“Sure,” you say, munching on your tator tots. You nod as you eat, looking at Qui-Gon, hoping he says something before you have to dream up an intelligent comment.

“I find it curious,” he says.

“You find what curious?”

“That you have not asked me how Obi-Wan is doing?”

You feel the beginnings of a lecture, so you ask, “So how is Obi-Wan doing?”

He smiles knowingly. There is no room to squirm with the Master. “For a time, he was here at every opportunity just to see you.”

“Not just to see me,” you say.

“Yes, just you,” he says.

“I heard about your conversations—“

“He TOLD you what we talked about?”

Qui-Gon shakes his head, “No, not in detail. He would just mention that he had spent time talking with you. And I heard about that unfortunate incident on the shuttle. It really shook him up.”

“Did it?”

“Yes, it did. And the birthday party. He was very excited about that. He tried not to let on, of course…but he was so very curious about what you were going to get him for a gift.” Qui-Gon chuckles at the recollection, “And then…. And then he never received one.”

You chew your food very slowly and force yourself to swallow it.

Qui-Gon leans back and strokes his beard. “And now, the two of you barely speak. Why is that?”

You drop a tator tot back onto your plate. “Look, no offense, but I don´t see how this is any of your business.”

“My padawan is my business,” he says with conviction.

“Well, I am not your business,” you say with as much rebellion in your voice as you can against a man of his discernable power.

“Yes, you are,” he says.

“Excuse me?”

“Let me explain something to you,” he says in a tone that is not the least bit condescending or patronizing but that commands your attention and your respect. “Everything Obi-Wan does is my business…every person he befriends…every activity he participates in is my business.”

“He´s a little old for that, don´t you think?”

“By your standards, perhaps,” he concedes. “But not by my standards. As long as he is my padawan and I am his master, I am responsible for him and for being aware of anything that may….affect him….or even hurt him.”

You smile at him, “You sound like his father.”

“Well…. I am the closest thing he has to one.”

You nod. “Listen, I´m not going to play games with you.”

“Good.”

And then you wonder if you can really lie to a Jedi Master. “Obi-Wan and I were – are – friends. Very good friends. He wanted something more, I turned him down. It´s as simple as that.”

“Hmm,” Qui-Gon says. “That doesn´t sound simple at all. It is interesting that you see it that way.”

“No, it´s not simple…it´s just….” You take a deep breath before you get anymore flustered. “It´s not that it was an easy decision. I care for him very much.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” you say defensively. “But something more than friendship is something that I cannot give him.”

“Why not?”

You are caught off-guard at his direct approach. “I…. I just can´t.” You´ll be damned if you will ever whine out loud about that one-and-only crap…even though it´s what you feel to your core. “I just want to be friends. He stepped over that line of suggesting something beyond friendship. I am sorry if he can´t deal with my decision, but that´s just how I feel. I didn´t want it to ruin our friendship, but if that´s what he chooses—“

“I think you are jumping to conclusions,” Qui-Gon said.

“Well, I certainly haven´t seen him,” you say.

“Have you made any effort to see him?”

You respond with silence.

He nods. “So I take this to mean that you won´t be attending the party at the Temple with him.”

You put your hands on your hips. “Did he send you here? Just to find that out?”

“No. It is a question that just occurred to me. I am here of my own volition,” he says, leaning in to emphasize the point. “A Jedi does not play games like that.”

“Oh really?”

Qui-Gon´s demeanor turns slightly less friendly. “I told you once that Obi-Wan is a good Jedi…in fact, an exemplary one.”

“Yes, I remember that,” you say.

“That means he does not lie…he does not use people…he does not jump to conclusions or judge people…he does not hurt people,” Qui-Gon says.

“He is still a man,” you say.

“A Jedi first,” Qui-Gon says.

“Oh please,” you say.

“Do not mock me,” he says.

You look down, “I am sorry.”

“You should think about what I have said,” he says, his voice still soft…it doesn´t need to be any louder. “For your own good.”

You fold your arms and look up at him. “Now who is judging who?”

“I am not judging you,” he says. “I am merely offering some advice that you could find useful if your pride will allow it.”

He may be a Jedi Master, but that doesn´t make him God. “My pride? My pride is why I made the decision I did. Because I have a little self-respect and won´t be played for a fool.” You pick up your plate and place it in the sink with a huff. Then you turn toward Qui-Gon. “And, no, I won´t be going to the party with him. I´ve had my fill of you Jedi and your interesting take on reality.” Qui-Gon´s expression remains unchanged, and you march out of the room.

Three days later, girls bustle around the building getting ready for the party…or The Big Bore as Obi-Wan had referred to it at one point. You laugh when you recall that as you lie on your bed. You haven´t heard from him, so you assume Qui-Gon told him about your conversation. You considered calling him just to make sure he knew that you couldn´t – wouldn´t – go but figured he would have called you if he still thought you were on.

You roll off the bed and stroll down the hall, a sharp contrast to the other girls in your jeans and sweater. Not everyone is going, of course – far from it – but it just seems that way at the moment.

You plunk down the stairs, and you skip from the last one down to the ground floor, round the corner, and run smack dab into Obi-Wan. “Oh,” you say with surprise. “Sorry. Didn´t mean to run you over.”

“That´s alright. You´re small enough to get away with it,” he says.

“Hmmm…. I´ll take that as a compliment,” you say.

“If you wish,” he says with a half smile.

You look down at the floor and then have a terrible thought: What if he´s here to pick you up for the party?

“So…. Are you ready to go?”

Your heart just about stops, and you slowly look up at him with your mouth half open….only to find that he´s not looking at you, but above you.

“Yes,” says a voice from behind you.

You turn around to see Terri standing on the stairs, her blonde hair swept up to precision and her long black dress clinging in all the right places. You finally realize that you are staring at her with your mouth hanging open. “Terri…you…you look great,” you say.

“Obi-Wan, could you excuse us for a moment?” Terri flashes a killer smile. “I´ll meet you in the entryway.”

“Very well,” he says. Without another word, he turns around and walks away.

Terri approaches you and says quietly, “I hope this is alright.”

“What?”

“Well…” She looks down at the floor nervously. “I know you were supposed to go with him to this party.”

“You do?”

“Yes…I…I was there, remember? In the kitchen…the day of his birthday party. You told him you would go with him,” she says, looking up at you again.

“Oh, right,” you say, trying not to remember that day.

“I´d hate for you to think I was cutting in on you,” she says. “I just happened to run into him the other day, and we were just making small talk and somehow it came up. He asked me if I wanted to go.”

“Oh,” you say.

“I was shocked because I thought he was going with you – and I said as much. But he said your plans had changed.” She takes a deep breath. “Wow, this is really uncomfortable…I don´t want you to think that—“

“Terri,” you say, “I don´t think anything. I changed my mind. I´m glad you´re going with him.”

“You are?”

“Yes. I felt kind of bad about breaking the date. I´m glad he found someone to go with,” you say, not entirely convinced.

“Oh. So no hard feelings then?”

“Of course not,” you say.

“I´d hate to have this come between us,” she says. “No guy is worth that.”

“You´ve got that right,” you say with a smile. “Now, go have fun.”

She smiles and hugs you quickly. “Thanks,” she says as her perfume assaults your senses. Then she steps around you and down the hall toward Obi-Wan. You catch his eye for a moment and then turn and walk toward the kitchen and exit the hallway through the door to the basement.

“Thank God you´re down here,” you say to Kim as you see her sitting at her desk.

“Why? What´s up?” She turns in her chair to face you.

“Perfume. Giggles,” you say.

“Ewww….makeup and heels, too?”

“Mmmm-hmmm,” you respond. “Wait a minute,” you say as you walk toward her. “You mean to tell me that Mace is going to be unattended this evening?”

“Nah,” Kim says, shaking her head. “Girl Scout is with him. I got the smut party, she got the Temple thing.”

“You guys are so good to each other,” you say.

“Yeah, well, what are friends for? Speaking of which…there´s about three gallons of deadly ice cream in that freezer,” she says.

“Coming right up,” you say, scooting into the kitchenette. You grab two large bowls and pull all three ice cream containers out and begin to shovel appropriate portions of each into the bowls. You turn as you hear Kim laughing. “What´s so funny?”

“Going through the letters to the editor. Get this. Dear Hot Jedi: Although I enjoy your publication, I would like to make a request that you provide more coverage of the non-human Jedi for your non-human readers.”

“We have non-human readers?” you ask, carrying the ice cream bowls to Kim´s desk.

“Wait, here´s a better one,” Kim says. “Dear Hot Jedi: Kudos on your exclusive interview with Master Mace Windu. It was informative, humorous, and touching all at the same time. I´ve never seen a better-written feature. Keep up the work.”

You grab the piece of paper from Kim. “Did you write this?”

“No!” She grabs her bowl from you. “Thanks.” She sets it down and says, “We have very intelligent readers, that´s all.”

You shuffle through some of the letters and pick up another one and read, “Dear Hot Jedi: I would like to make a request. In the future, please refrain from using the word ‘sith´ to describe something terrible, undesirable, or as any form of expletive. I refer you to last month´s article entitled ´88 Ways to Combat Sithly Hair Days´ as an example of the careless and disrespectful use of this word. I would hope a publication of your stature would not resort to such blatant insensitivity. Sincerely, Senator Palpatine, Naboo.”

“Geez, lighten up,” Kim says.

“Yeah, no foolin´”

“People are just plain weird,” Kim says.

“Completely,” you say shoving a large spoonful of ice cream into your mouth.

Part 16

“OK, things to do and people to see,” you say as you scurry around your room trying to get ready. First on the agenda is that dreaded dentist appointment. You would think that in a galaxy where broken bones could be healed through energy medicine that someone would´ve discovered a way to examine your teeth without actually having to stick their fingers in your mouth and spray liquefied sand paper all over you. “Ah well…” you say out loud.

Then after lunch there´s that interview with Adi Galla, another Hot Jedi exclusive. You´re rather excited about talking with her, to hear the female side of Jedi life. Since there won´t be much time between your dentist appointment and the interview, just enough for a change of clothes, you stack all your necessities – pen, notebook, tape recorder, candy bar – on your dresser so you can dart in and dart back out again. You pick up the notebook and rifle through it, finding the page with the name and address of the restaurant where you´re meeting her and leave it open to that page so you won´t even have to think when you get home from your dentist appointment.

You burst through the door of the JH building, back late from the dentist, of course. You run up the stairs and nearly run over Kim. “Sorry,” you say out of breath. “Don´t wanna be late for Adi.”

“That´s OK. Just be sure to wash that stuff off your face. What the hell is that?”

“Stupid dentist,” you say. “Thanks!” You wave as you run toward your room. Right as you approach, your door opens and out steps…. “Terri. What are you—“

“Oh hi! I´m sorry….Kayla told me you were in your room. I was looking for you….” She gives you a big smile. “We´re uh….a bunch of us are going out to lunch. Do you wanna go?”

“Sorry, no can do. Got an interview today. But thanks for asking,” you say.

“You have something on your face,” she says.

You put a hand to your cheek and groan as you rush into your bedroom and shut the door. You scurry into the bathroom and scrub the remaining toothpaste off your face. “Nice of them to tell me I was covered in goo.” You then check the clock on your nightstand. “Thirty minutes. OK.” You stand still for a moment to catch your breath. Then you pull your sweater over your head while you unbutton and jump out of your jeans. You grab the dress out of the closet that you planned to wear ahead of time, proud of yourself that you´re so well-organized when you have to be.

You sit down on the bed and pull on your tights. Then you sit still for another moment and breathe. Then it´s up again to grab that candy bar, which everyone knows is the antidote for that fluoride aftertaste. You rip open the wrapper and take a large bite of the chocolatey, peanutty, gooey goodness. You sigh as you chew and look down at your ready-to-go provisions. Then you stop chewing. “What the?”

Your notebook is closed. It was open to the page with the restaurant on it. Open when you left. Closed upon your return. Alright, maybe it really wasn´t open when you left, maybe you kept thinking about leaving it open but forgot. No, you´re obsessive about things like that. It was definitely open. You think for a moment. “Terri,” you say quietly. You stand frozen for who knows how long as suddenly everything makes absolute sense to you. All the pieces that just didn´t fit finally reveal themselves and form one perfectly terrible picture. Your whole body begins to shake.

You look at the clock. Shit. You have to leave in a few minutes. You growl and think of all the reasonable excuses you can give for your tardiness as you march out of your room, driven by boiling blood. “Terri!” You have no idea where she is so you figure you´ll just shout until her bouncy little head appears. “Terri!”

“She´s in the kitchen,” someone yells.

You sound like a stampede going down the stairs in your thick-heeled shoes. You turn with precision on the ground floor and stomp into the kitchen, passing Kim on the way.

“What are you still doing here? You´ll be late,” she says.

“Gimme a minute,” you say.

“You don´t have a minute,” she says.

You keep walking and rush through the kitchen doorway. There Terri sits at the dining table. You realize you have a melting candy bar clutched in your hand, and you huck it into the sink. “Terri,” you say in a low voice.

She looks up at you with her perky eyes and bats her lashes at you. “Hi! What´s up? Change your mind about lunch?”

“You read my notebook,” you say calmly, smoothly, deadly.

She twitches, just barely, but you catch it. “What are you talking about?”

“That´s how you knew what he said to me. I wrote it down. All of it. That´s how you knew,” you say.

She stands up and says in a patronizing tone. “This is about the Temple party, isn´t it? Listen, I don´t want to be mean, but your loss. Don´t blame me for that.”

“No,” you say. “This is about you being a completely pathetic, laughable, conniving airhead. Game over. You lose. Bye.” You turn around and walk out of the kitchen, passing Kim again.

“You mean?” She begins to follow you down the hall

“Yep.”

“She actually….”

“She did,” you say.

“Whoa,” Kim says. “Well, that wasn´t a very dramatic confrontation.”

“Sorry,” you say as you walk back upstairs to grab your things. “I don´t do Dynasty….or Melrose.”

“Bummer,” Kim says. “It would´ve made good photos for the Christmas party.”

Your interview with Adi Galla goes surprisingly well, especially considering everything else running through your mind. But just that fact that things finally make sense now allows you to think more clearly than you have in weeks.

You walk back home, excited about typing up your interview as well as planning the phone call you need to make. You walk in the front door and are immediately greeted by Kim.

“So how´d it go with Adi?”

“Good,” you say. “It went really well.” You hand her the tape recorder. “Take a listen. She has some interesting things to say about Mace.”

“Woo-hoo! Thanks,” Kim says. “Wanna grab some chow?”

“Just ate, remember?”

“Oh yeah…. Wanna come with me while I get some chow?”

“Can´t. Got something to do. But I´ll catch ya later,” you say.

“OK. Thanks again for the tape,” she says.

“Guard that thing with your life. She has some comments about teenies. You´ll die laughing,” you say. Kim´s maniacal laughter fills the hall as you walk away.

You sit on your bed and stare at the phone. Thank God you don´t have a vidphone. First an audio version, then a real life version. That´s how you need to approach this. Heck, you don´t even know if he´s in town. You dial. The phone rings and rings and rings. You are just about to hang up when you hear the click of a receiver being picked up. You stop breathing.

“Hello,” Obi-Wan says.

“Hi, it´s…it´s me,” you say.

“Yes, I knew that,” he says.

“Ah, I always forget about that Jedi caller ID,” you say.

“It´s handy,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say. “Um…are you busy?”

“Not at the moment,” he says.

“Good. I need to talk to you,” you say.

“What is it?”

“Can we meet someplace?”

“Why?”

“Well, I´d rather talk in person,” you say.

“Oh,” he says. “Will it take long?”

“Uh…. No. I guess not,” you say. This may be more difficult than you had anticipated.

“I could meet you at The Plaza,” he says.

“Sure. Now?”

“Alright,” he says.

“See you in a few,” you say, and you hang up the phone quickly so he doesn´t have the opportunity to back out. You grab your long wool coat out of the closet and wrap it around yourself. You psyche yourself up for some heavy duty groveling, and head out.

The Plaza is just across the street. It´s a gathering place, as its name suggests. One of the few open spaces on this crowded planet. It occurs to you that you didn´t arrange an exact meeting place, but he´s a Jedi so you figure he´ll find you. You find a picnic table next to a scarce group of small trees and wait for him.

He arrives a few minutes later and sits down across from you. “So what is this about?”

“I need to explain something to you,” you say.

“Alright,” he says.

You explain to him what happened the night of his birthday party, the conversation you had with Terri, and your feelings and thoughts. You even tell him how you dispensed of his gift, trying to make it a humorous anecdote, but he just stares at you. Then you add, “The conversations you and I had…. I wrote some things down in my notebook. Not everything, mind you, but some of the biggies…the things I was trying to work out. I just found out today that Terri had been reading my notebook and—“

“I know,” he says.

You sit, stunned. “What do you mean, you knew?”

“I knew that she had read your notebook and I knew that she had told you I had said the same things to her,” he says nonchalantly.

You feel your cheeks flush. “Since when did you know this?”

“Since my birthday party,” he says.

“Since your birthday party?!”

“Well, not exactly. I sensed something was going on. When I saw her that night at the party, she was…broadcasting, if you will, very loudly…about you. It wasn´t very kind…but it wasn´t clear either,” he says as though stating common knowledge.

The image of him staring at her at the party comes back to haunt you. You want to smack yourself very, very hard.

“And then,” he continues, “the night of the Temple party it all became very clear. She doesn´t understand the need to censor her thoughts.”

“Wait,” you say. “You knew about all of this. What she had done?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Then why didn´t you say anything?”

“Why should I?”

“Excuse me? I thought we were friends,” you say.

“So did I,” he says.

“Then why—“

“Did it ever occur to you that it was not like me to behave in the way that she suggested? Did you ever even question what she was saying?” His face begins to show a little more emotion.

“Yes, of course I questioned it,” you say. “But the things she said were so precise. Not just vague generalizations, but she literally repeated the same words you said to me.”

“So why did you not ask me about it? Why did you lie and say you had an inexplicable change of heart?”

“Because I felt betrayed. I thought you were just playing me for a fool,” you say. “And I didn´t want to run to you and whine about that very fact.”

“I see. So you immediately believed that I was a lout, and were too proud to even allow me the opportunity to defend myself,” he says.

“Wait a minute—“

“No, you wait a minute,” he says calmly but forcefully. “You became so blinded by your own self-pity that you didn´t for one moment consider that I would never treat you the way you believed I was treating you. I have given you more latitude than any other person I have known, and still you were so ready to believe me a person of such low character, judging me by rumor instead of by my actions.”

“I was confused…unclear….”

“Do you remember the day that we went for lunch and you said all those terrible things to me and stormed out of the restaurant?”

“Yes,” you say quietly.

“I didn´t write you off, did I? In fact, I quickly forgave you for it. What was unclear to you about that?”

You look down at the table but say nothing.

“And the night of that party, when you had too much too drink. Now, if my only motives were to get you into bed,” he says disgustedly, “I certainly could have taken advantage of you then. Did that ever occur to you?”

“Yes,” you say quietly.

“In fact,” he says. “I could have taken advantage of you SOBER, and you know it. But I never did. Did I?”

“No. Listen, I--”

“I am not finished,” he says. “Back to that night. I made sure you got upstairs alright. In fact, I stayed with you the whole night to keep a watch on you. And in the morning when you were sicker than I´ve ever seen a respectable woman, I didn´t walk away, did I?”

“No,” you say.

“No. I could have just kept walking, like you said, but I didn´t. What part of that was confusing to you?” He takes a breath and continues, “And the day on the shuttle…the accident. I nearly thought you were dead for a moment. I carried you off that shuttle – got your blood all over me, in fact – and stayed with you…and paced around the waiting room of the damn clinic not knowing if you´d ever remember my name. And then you thought it was funny to tease me about it.”

“I´m sorry,” you whisper.

“Yes, so you said. But I forgave you for that, remember?”

“Yes,” you say.

“So…. What part about that experience was confusing or unclear to you?”

“Obi-Wan… “ You give him a pleading look. “I—“

“That night that I helped you fall asleep. I felt all your fears then. I took them from you so you could sleep, do you remember that?”

“Yes.”

“I felt that…kept myself awake with them so you could sleep. All of your insecurities, your fears…of betrayal, of not measuring up, of being unloved, abandoned—“

“Please stop,” you say.

“All those things that you use as a crutch…all things that you blame for whatever you lack, things that keep you frozen, things that blind you to truth. You betrayed our friendship just so you could hold on to those fears,” he says.

“That´s not true,” you say.

“It is true. I told you that you were special to me, and I meant it. But you would prefer to carry your pain around so you can participate in pity instead of living,” he says. “You would rather have people confirm how especially difficult the road is for you instead of doing what needs to be done and participate in the hard work of getting through things.”

“Hold it right there,” you say.

“I do not deny that you have been hurt in the past. But that is no excuse for causing other people pain in order to hold fast to your own. I told you that you deserved to be treated better, and you do. I told you that you were special, and I meant it. But instead of considering those possibilities, you chose to prove yourself right and believe everything Terri said,” he says.

“But she said all the words you said to me. What was I supposed to think?”

“Perhaps you were supposed to have a little more faith in me. Perhaps you were supposed to be honest with me and tell me what happened right from the start. Perhaps you were supposed to consider the reality of my behavior over a longer period of time than a two-minute conversation with a woman who possesses obvious insecurities. Perhaps you were supposed to put our friendship ahead of your pride and your fear. Perhaps,” he says before taking a deep breath. “Perhaps you could have simply given me the benefit of the doubt…as I have given you so many times. That is why I didn´t say anything when I learned the truth. I was waiting for you to do the right thing. And you didn´t. So it made me wonder what kind of friendship we really had if you didn´t even spare me the slightest bit of consideration. This experience…. I barely…recognize you. Despite minor offenses, you had been so giving…until this. I don´t quite understand it. It made me wonder…who…you really are.”

You cover your mouth as you choke on a sob. Then you take a deep breath and pull yourself back in. You give him a nervous chuckle, “Yeah, a person´s true character is made obvious when they are under duress.” You have no defense. “I have really, really messed up.”

“Yes, you have,” he says.

His words hit you hard. Very hard. His disappointment in you is palpable. “I feel terrible about this,” you say.

“Do you understand why I didn´t say anything?”

“Yes,” you say. “I have taken you and our friendship for granted. God knows I am far too old to behave like a high school girl, throwing fits and buying into gossip, but for some reason….” You search your brain for the right excuse…the right apology, but there is none. You look up at him. “Well, thank you for meeting with me. I´ll let you get back to things.” You stand up, your body practically numb.

“It´s getting dark. Perhaps I should walk you home,” he says.

The fact that he has no ability to be outright mean in spite of your transgression is not lost on you. “No,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I´ll be fine. Thanks, though.” You give him an apologetic half-smile. “Bye.” You don´t wait for a response. You turn and slowly walk away.

Part 17

You lay in bed that night with no intention of sleeping. You just let the shame sink into you. It has to run its course because tomorrow you´re going to stop this and you´re going to grow up. For the past hour you´ve told yourself what a terrible person you are….unforgivable…unlovable. Then you stop. This is just what he was talking about. Self freakin´ pity.

How and why this all happened, you cannot fathom. You need to figure it out. Therein lies the lesson. You KNEW that he wasn´t the jerk you made him out to be. You knew it! He told you that night at the carnival that he would never hurt you. And, as Qui-Gon tried to tell you, he would never lie. Never. But you were too hard headed to see the truth, too wrapped up in the belief that you can´t ever trust a man. Too bound by the sorority of men-are-pigs. More interested in maintaining that tie to other self-pitying sisters in order to keep your membership to the Poor Me Club than you were in standing up for the truth of this man. When your brain screamed, “No, he wouldn´t do that,” your mouth should have followed suit. You should have stood for something. But you didn´t. Your addiction to your fear of not being good enough for him made sure that you weren´t.

You think back to the day after the party. The day that you told him you only wanted to be friends. The cold shoulder. The brush off. Hell, you behaved like every man in your past and tossed away the best man you´ve ever known. Only now do you think about how he must have felt. Before that you were gregarious, affectionate, supportive…even loving on occasion. And then, nothing. All you are left with is the look on his face when you told him that you deserved more than to wait around for him, callous as you were about it.

That´s it, you´ve really done it. You´ve gone beyond the point of forgiveness. Now it´s time for a new plan. But what does it matter? If only you could disappear. Maybe you should give up your fledgling writing career and get a “real” job. Maybe you should get your own place and live alone. Someplace far from here so he won´t have to be bothered with you. Maybe you´ll get lucky and take a ride on a shuttle that will crash for real.

“Stop,” you say out loud. “Brain, I order you to stop this instant.”

Damn, self-pity is a tricky monster. It sneaks into your head from all sorts of angles. Now that you´ve decided it cannot fester from your past, it´s going to try and take the form of self-flagellation. Self-pity will gladly take all the blame so you can create a penance that will eventually allow it to re-enter your life. Once you have worked yourself away at a job you hate, once you have moved away from everyone you care about, once you are tragically injured…self-pity can stage a triumphant encore.

You sigh and rub your head. Alright, now it´s time for action. How can you make amends for the terrible things you have done? Wait. You grab your big mental broom and sweep self-pity back out your ear. All you can do is try to do better…to be better. Step one: You are going to wake up in the morning – not mid-morning, not noon – and go downstairs and type up your interview with Adi Galla. Step two: Eat lunch.

You sigh. “Alright, I have two things. And depending on how the morning work goes, we´ll see about the afternoon.” Agreement made, deal closed. You shut your eyes and fall asleep.

You awake at the first light of day. Hey, nobody said you had to get up before dawn. Instead of pulling the pillow over your head and going back to sleep, you get up slowly. “Nothing wrong with slow,” you say. “Smell the roses and all that.” You shuffle into the bathroom and turn on the shower. You languish under the water´s heat for as long as you can and prepare to move quickly when you turn it off in order to keep warm.

Successfully dried and dressed, you grab that now infamous notebook and head downstairs to work on the interview. And you greet your first challenge of the day.

“Good morning, Terri,” you say. Low voice, neutral tone. So far so good.

“Listen,” she says, her voice already agitated. “I don´t appreciate you spreading rumors about me. Just because Obi-Wan got tired of you and you don´t like it because he spends time with me now—“

“Spent,” you say.

“Huh?”

“Spent. He spent time with you. You said ‘spends´, as in present tense, when the verb should actually have been ‘spent´, as in past tense,” you say. You´re just trying for improvement, not sainthood. Can´t give up your entire personality, now can you?

Her perky face scrunches up into something more akin to pesky. “You are so jealous of me. He wants me, and he doesn´t want you. You need to get over it,” she says.

“And you need to slow your roll,” you say, hearing her gasp of indignation as you turn away and walk to the basement door. As you shut the door behind you and walk down the stairs, you hear laughter. Sithly, maniacal laughter. “Kim, what´s so funny?” You ask the question before you even get down the stairs.

“You shut her up good,” she says.

You walk toward your desk and ask, “Is Mace teaching you the mind whammy thing?”

“Air vent,” she says, pointing above your desks.

“Ah,” you say.

“Breeding ground of jelly creatures and juicy gossip. Part of the benefits package for all Hot Jedi staff members,” she says.

“I knew there was a reason why I worked here,” you say as you sit in your creaky chair.

“That and free doughnuts,” Kim says.

“Where?” You jump up and look around.

“Conference room,” Kim says.

“Yesssah!” Eating well is probably part of your plan, too, but no need to tackle too many issues at once.

You sit back down at your desk with a lovely apple fritter – fruit is part of a nutritious breakfast – and find your notes from the interview. “Hey, where´s my tape?”

“Here,” Kim says, handing you a disk. “I ran it through the computer last night. All transcribed and ready to go.”

“Thanks, dollface,” you say.

“Excuse me,” Kim says. “By ‘dollface´, are you implying that I have a face and that it resembles that of a doll?”

“Mmm-hmm,” you respond, popping the disk into your computer.

“Well, that´s it,” Kim says with a huff. “I stay up half the night getting that disk ready for you, and you go and insinuate that I have perfect skin, rosy cheeks, a cute nose, pouty lips, and pretty eyes with lids that close when I lie down.”

“Sorry,” you say. “Thanks, muttface.”

“Much better,” she says. “Get it right next time.”

“I´ll do my best,” you say with a smirk as the text comes up on your screen. “So, what´s your next big scoop?”

“Uh…looks like the Christmas issue,” Kim says.

“You mean, Jedi´s in Santa hats holding mistletoe?”

“That´s the general idea,” she says.

“I´m likin´ that already,” you say.

“Think we can get the paddlewan to participate? We could make it an exclusive photo assignment for you,” she says enticingly.

You shrug. “I don´t think he´ll be wanting to participate if I´m involved.”

“You talk to him yet?”

“Yeah. Last night. I screwed up, Kim. Big time,” you say.

“Ah, don´t worry,” she says. “

“I´m not worried,” you say. “I just think that things won´t be like they were before.”

“Well, nothing can stay the same,” she says. “That´s why Ho-Ho´s got smaller and M&M´s got blue.”

You laugh and say, “How´d you get so smart?”

“I surround myself with only the greatest minds,” she says.

“Oh, so THAT´S the real reason why I´m here,” you say.

“It is the will of the Force,” she says in a slow, measured voice.

“And of estrogen,” you say.

She snorts, “Yeah, that too.”

You eat your soup and bagel at your desk. And then you choke on it. “We´re having what??”

“A family dinner,” Kayla says matter-of-factly.

“And whose family are we inviting?”

“Next Sunday we´re all going to have dinner together,” Kayla says.

“It´s kind of a big crowd,” Kim says.

“It´s a big party room,” Kayla says. “Thanksgiving is coming up. A lot of people are going to spend it with their families. So I thought we should have our own dinner with all us girls together...and the boys, of course,”

“So what are we having for dinner?” Kim asks. “Roasted Terri?”

You snicker and Kayla sighs, “Oh, I just don´t know what to do about that.”

“Don´t worry about it, Mom,” you say.

“Maybe if we ignore her, she´ll just go away,” Kim says.

“Or continue to get really loud and squealy and then spontaneously combust,” you say.

“There is that,” Kim says.

“So,” Kayla says. “Dinner. Next Sunday. Mark your calendars. I´ve told the boys. Dress nice. The whole deal.”

“Sounds good to me,” you say.

“You sure?” Kayla says.

“Yeah,” you say.

“Good,” she says cheerfully. “Well, I´m off to meet a possessive Jedi Master for lunch.”

“Save room for dessert,” Kim calls after her.

You chuckle and resume your lunch. “No dessert for us,” you say in a mopey whine.

“Ice cream,” Kim says.

“Ah, the next best thing to a nekkid Jedi,” you say.

“Sort of,” Kim says.

“If you squint your eyes almost shut and pretend a nekkid Jedi is feeding it to you,” you say.

“Hmmm…. I´ll have to give that a try,” she says. “But I was thinking more along the lines of closing my eyes and imagining writing the Jedi Code in chocolate sauce all over a nekkid Jedi.”

“You are always one step ahead of me,” you say with a smile as you print out your final, nearly perfect version of your Adi Galla feature.

“Alright, who put their bread on top of my dressing?” you say as you shut the oven door.

Everyone looks in the other direction and busies themselves with something else in the kitchen. “Fine. Just fine,” you say.

“Family dinner,” Kayla says. “Happy time.”

Now you know how your mother feels getting up before dawn on a holiday just to make sure the dinner will be ready twelve hours later. In your own holiday ambition, you offered to make the dressing. What you didn´t consider at the time was that you´d be making ten pans of it. But then you look over at Kim standing over the largest stock pot you have ever seen trying to mash potatoes with the largest potato masher you have ever seen.

“Maybe you should try the hand mixer,” you say to Kim. “Gets rid of the lumps that way.” But you quickly turn away when she gives you that evil you-wanna-try-this-miss-smarty-pants look.

In a surprisingly orderly fashion, food is delivered out of the kitchen and into the party room. You survey the kitchen one more time. “Looks like we´re all set,” you say. “No spare food sitting around.”

“Great,” Kayla says. “Let´s go eat.”

“Wait, where´s Kim?”

“I already dragged her out there and sat her down. She looked like she was about to pass out,” Kayla says. “I put her next to Mace for a little rejuvenation.”

“Good plan,” you say. “I´m excited to see this, I didn´t have a chance to check out your decorations.”

“Well, we don´t actually get to light the tree until after dessert,” Kayla says as you both toss off your aprons and walk toward the party room. “I know it´s early for a tree, but—“

“No, it´s a great idea,” you say. “I love Christmas.”

“Yeah, me too,” she says.

You walk into the party room and look around for an available seat. “Over here,” Kayla says. “Sit with us.” You follow her until you see where she is leading you. She takes her seat next to Qui-Gon who sits at the head of the table. Obi-Wan sits at the other end of the table, which is where the only other available chair is. You cast Kayla a slightly accusatory glance because you know damn well that there wouldn´t be an empty chair next to him unless someone specifically planned it that way.

You stand there for a moment until Kayla waves you forward. “C´mon, sit down. We´re hungry.”

You sigh and slowly walk toward the chair, not looking at him as he watches you approach. You walk around him and quietly pull the chair out as if he won´t notice.

“Hello,” he says.

“Hi,” you say, giving him a quick glance before sitting down. You look up and have the misfortune of discovering that Terri sits across the table from you, one chair over. You sit silently while the platters are passed around and everyone waits for the signal to start. Silence just doesn´t become you. “You know, they say that once the third person is served, then you can start eating.”

“But how do we know when each person has been fully served?” Kim asks.

“Turkey?” you ask.

“Check,” she says.

“Dressing?”

“Check.”

“Mashed potatoes?”

“Check.”

“Gravy?”

“Check.”

“All other items are ancillary,” you say. “Consider yourself served.”

“Woo-hoo!”

“Wait,” Kayla says. “We have to say grace.”

“Grace!” everyone but the Jedi´s say in unison.

“Alright, now you can eat,” Kayla says.

You chuckle and then settle into eating yourself silly. Then, for some ungodly reason, Terri is struck again by stupidity. “You know, I just LOVE your dress,” she says to you.

You take a hesitant look down at your burgundy velour dress and then raise your head again to give her a why-are-you-bothering-me look.

Dande, who sits to your left, leans over and whispers. “I could hog tie her and toss her out if you like.”

You snort, “So much for Miss Nice Girl,” you whisper back.

“I swear, I´ll do it,” Dande says. “Just say the word.”

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” you say. “But thanks for the offer.” You glance quickly over at Obi-Wan and find him looking at you, obviously catching that bit of conversation, so you quickly shift your gaze up the table.

“So,” Kayla says. “Anyone have any great Christmas ideas? I was thinking we could do those gift baskets again for the food bank.”

“Yeah,” Kim says. “Presents are just too much with this many people….unless, of course, somebody WANTED to buy me something.”

You raise your hand. “I want to buy you something, Kim,” you say.

“Aw, thanks,” she says.

“Anytime, dollface…uh, I mean muttface,” you say. You hear a snort and turn to see Obi-Wan giving you a wide-eyed look. “Inside joke,” you say. You turn back toward Kayla, “Actually, I do have an idea.”

“You do?” Terri says. “Please, do share. We´re very interested in your ideas.”

You look down at your lap and grind your teeth.

Dande leans over, “Now? Can I do it now?”

“I am not going to participate. I´m not,” you whisper. You take a deep breath and look up to see Kayla giving Terri the look of death. “Anyway, I saw an ad in the paper for those Giving Trees. You know the ones they have at stores and public offices. They put tags on them as ornaments with gift requests for kids and seniors. The ad had a number to call if you wanted to host a tree, so to speak. There´s enough of us here, so I was thinking we should get one and collect presents.”

“That´s a great idea,” Kayla says.

“So you don´t mind if I call and get the information?”

“No, not at all,” she says.

“Ah, the girl who saved Christmas,” Terri says sarcastically.

Kayla clears her throat and stands up. “Looks like we need more….bread. Terri, could you help me in the kitchen?”

“No, love, we have some right here,” Qui-Gon says, holding up a basket.

Kayla purses her lips and gives him a look. “I think we need more.”

“There´s plenty here,” he says and then catches her eye. “But…it would probably be a good idea to have more…because…Obi-Wan really likes bread,” he stutters.

You try to hide your sniggering. Qui-Gon was right. Jedi´s don´t lie. They really suck at it.

“Terri,” Kayla says.

“Sure, I´ll help,” Terri says, completely oblivious as she pops up her perky self and follows Kayla out of the room.

“Master,” Obi-Wan says.

“Yes?”

“Please pass the bread. I´m getting low,” he says with a grin.

“Certainly,” Qui-Gon says with a smirk, and the basket makes its way down the table.

You finally hand the basket to Obi-Wan, catching his eye for another moment. He doesn´t seem angry with you, which is certainly a relief. Beyond that, his manner is polite but relatively distant.

“What did you make?” he asks you.

“The dressing,” you say.

“Oh. It is good,” he says.

“Thanks.”

And there ends your conversation.

You can barely move. You and everyone else. But the time has come. The room falls suddenly dark and an instant later, the tree lights up. You can´t help but smile in that moment as everyone applauds Kayla´s handiwork.

“This is traditional?” Obi-Wan asks as the lights come up again.

You turn back around. “The tree? Yes. Christmas tradition.”

“Hmm,” he says.

You turn your head to see Qui-Gon wrap his arm around Kayla´s waist. “I´m beginning to like your customs.”

“Wait til she introduces you to mistletoe,” Kim says. “We´re gonna have it ALL over the building.”

You laugh at Kim´s enthusiasm and at Qui-Gon´s confused expression. You stand up to reposition your very fully tummy and say to Kim, “Knowing you, you´ll be wearing a mistletoe hat for the next month and a half.”

Kim stands up. “Hey, just for that – and for your unsolicited mashed potato advice – you get…uh….” Then suddenly her arm swoops in to catch an innocent whipped cream can. “Pie face!”

You shriek and grab for another can as whipped cream assails your cheek. You spray frantically at her, and then suddenly every whipped cream can disappears from the tables into playful hands. Every woman is on her feet – except for Terri who never returned from the bread run – while the Jedi´s sit and watch in amusement as whipped cream flies over their heads.

“Yes,” Qui-Gon says. “I like their customs very much.”

“I´m beginning to agree with you, friend,” Mace says with a fetching grin. “This beats the Corellian dance troupe anytime.”

“Yes, I agree” Qui-Gon says with a chuckle. “But, Mace, as you know, a Jedi must always be ready to assimilate into another culture without hesitation.”

Mace eyes Qui-Gon and Qui-Gon eyes Mace. A split second later, they jump to their feet, Qui-Gon retrieving a can from Kayla and Mace retrieving one from Kim. And two Jedi Masters giggle like children as they cover each other in dessert topping.

“Hello, cleanup,” Kim says with a grin.

“Oh yeah,” Kayla purrs.

Part 18

“OK, let´s put the lights on, and then we can hang all the tags on the tree,” you say as you open a box of Christmas lights.

“Right-o,” Kim says, grabbing another box.

“I think we´re gonna need a stool or something,” you say as you look at Kim and then at the top of the tree.

“I dunno. It´s only seven feet tall,” she says.

“But neither of us is seven feet tall,” you say.

“True, but….” Kim takes the end of her string of lights and flings it over the top of the tree. “Right…so now we have lights hanging over the top of the tree. Can you grab the end and kinda whip it around so it twirls around the top?”

“Ummm….hold on,” you say, scooting around the other side of the tree and finding the end. You swing your arm out and then attempt to toss the string with a curve, only to have it drop halfway around.

“I´ll get a stool,” Kim says with a laugh, taking off into the kitchen.

You stand in the hallway and eye the tree. “You will not outwit us, O Tannenbaum.” Just then the doorbell rings, so you drop your string of lights on the floor and walk over to answer it. Before you open the door, you look up to make sure you are not standing under the strategically placed mistletoe because one never knows what funny joke God may want to play.

You open the door and find Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan standing there. “Oh geez! We need you!” You quickly motion them to come in and scamper down the hall.

“What is it?” Qui-Gon´s voice is filled with concern as he swaggers in.

“Lights,” you say pointing up to the dangling strand. “On tree. Pretty-like.”

His face forms into a smile, “Ah. Well, it is a good thing we arrived when we did.”

Kim finally reappears with the stool and yells, “Master! Perfect timing.” She plunks the stool down where she stands and hurries over.

Qui-Gon proceeds to expertly wind the lights around the tree, with Obi-Wan assisting on the other side as they make their way towards the base.

“OK,” Kim says. “You´ve got a bare spot there. Pull that one up a bit.” The Jedi´s happily obey her expert instructions.

“This is the part we were missing, Kim,” you say. “Never, ever decorate a tree without men around. At least for the lights.”

She nods in agreement as she keeps a hawk´s watch on their progress. Finally, the tree is fully covered with the lights. “And you even got the plug on the back side,” Kim says. “What good boys you are.”

“We try,” Obi-Wan says looking around for an outlet. Finding one, he plugs the lights in, and the tree comes alive, except….

“This string isn´t blinking,” you whine. You rummage through the package. “Gotta find the flasher…actually, I kinda like them better when they don´t blink.”

“Alright, chica, here´s the deal,” Kim says. “Either we find the one flasher that isn´t blinking and replace it, or we find all the flashers that are blinking and remove them. Now is not the time to determine blinkage. That needs to be done in the pre-application stage.”

“Here it is,” Obi-Wan says reaching for the non-functioning bulb and removing it.

“Note to self,” you say. “Always have a Jedi around when hanging Christmas lights.”

“Agreed,” Kim says.

“Dang, you guys coulda saved us lots of family strife when I was a kid,” you say.

“So why do you participate in activities that annually cause strife?” Obi-Wan looks to you and Kim with a wrinkled brow.

“Cuz it´s fun, silly,” Kim says.

Qui-Gon chuckles. “And explain these…plants….” He looks up at the ceiling.

“That´s the mistletoe!” Kim says.

“And it´s purpose?” Qui-Gon looks around, noticing the mistletoe in the entryway, several of them in the hallway, over every doorway….

You begin to explain, “If you find yourself under the mistletoe with a member of the opposite sex—“

“Or the same sex, whichever way your door swings….or with family….or if you´re a drunk man and want to show your buds how much you care….” Kim interjects.

You laugh, “Anyway…if caught under the mistletoe, you have to kiss whoever you find yourself standing next to.”

“I see,” Qui-Gon says with a smile. “It sounds like a good tradition.”

“Yeah, well…. Take it as a warning,” you say. “And be careful who you invite to Christmas parties.”

“Especially if you´re serving spiked egg nog,” Kim says.

“Eewwww…egg nog. Blech,” you say.

“What´s wrong with egg nog?” Kim says.

You respond, “Something about that whole egg business…and drinking something called a ‘nog.´ I mean, what the hell is a nog?”

“What is it?” Obi-Wan asks.

You make a shuddering noise. “I don´t wanna go there,” you say.

“Scrooge,” Kim says.

“Am not,” you say.

“Are, too,” Kim says.

“Scrooge didn´t drink egg nog. He drank cider….or more appropriately, wassail,” you say with conviction.

“And you know this because….”

“Because I got smarts,” you say.

“Who is Scrooge?” Obi-Wan asks.

“Long story,” you say. “We should probably get the tags put on the tree.” You pick up a large envelope.

“Wait, I think it´s time for lunch,” Kim says.

You look at the clock. “You have an excellent point. Let´s eat first.”

“Hey,” Kim says. “You boys want to grab some lunch with us? Our treat for helping with the tree.”

Qui-Gon nods, “We´d be happy to—“

“Master,” Obi-Wan says. “I thought we were—“

“Obi-Wan, that can wait for an hour or two,” Qui-Gon says. “First we will eat.”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan says quietly.

The four of you walk to a small deli on the corner. The only way to describe the air is awkward. Obi-Wan is obviously not comfortable with this much one-on-one with you. He is polite, conversational, even laughing at a couple of your comments…but you have to resolve yourself to the fact that things are the way they are now. At least he doesn´t avoid you completely.

The week after Thanksgiving you receive a call from the volunteer coordinator at the multi-service center checking on the status of your tree and looking for volunteers to tackle the massive job of sorting the piles of gifts that are beginning to come in. It´s Christmas. How can you refuse? You agree to go down the following afternoon and figure it will be a good activity to boost your mood.

Of course, because this is your life, sometime during the following day the weather dorks decide that it needs to rain…hard. You sigh as you look out your bedroom window as pedestrians try to maintain their grips on their umbrellas as the sky downpours on them. “Oh well,” you say. The walk to the transport station isn´t very far, but you don´t like the idea of riding a shuttle in weather like this, not that you ever like the idea of riding a shuttle in the first place. However, the multi-service center is quite a distance away, and not in the best part of town, so there is only one way to get there.

You survive the dash to the transport station without becoming too drenched. You fight with your umbrella to get it closed the split second before the elevator doors open. Thankfully, your shuttle is on a relatively low platform so you don´t experience so much disorientation when the elevator doors open again. You huddle with the masses as you wait for the shuttle to arrive, trying to be careful not to hit anybody else with your umbrella.

The rain subsides slightly to make your walk from the shuttle to the multi-service center a little easier. You finally arrive and are happily greeted from the mess outside by other volunteers who look as soggy as you do.

The task of sorting gifts is loftier than you had anticipated, and before you know it, three hours have passed. You consider making an exit, given the JH party that you promised to attend, but there is so much more yet to be done. So you settle in and continue to work, knowing there will be plenty more parties to attend some other time.

After about an hour, Serenna, the volunteer coordinator approaches you. “You have a phone call.”

“I do?” She nods and points you toward the phone. You walk over and pick up the receiver. “Hello?”

“I knew you´d still be there,” Kayla says.

“Well, there´s a lot to do,” you say.

“Aren´t you coming back for the party?”

“Not for a while,” you say.

“But Obi has been asking for you,” she says.

“Liar,” you say.

“Well…I bet he´s wondering where you are,” she says.

“I bet he isn´t,” you say. “He´s probably much more relaxed since I´m not there.”

Kayla doesn´t respond.

“Isn´t he?”

“Well…yeah, he is,” she says. “But we want you here.”

“Thanks, that´s nice,” you say. “I´ll be back in a while.”

“OK,” Kayla says. “I just wanted to check on you…make sure the rain hadn´t washed you away or anything.”

“Thanks, Mom,” you say. “I´ll see you later.”

“Bye. Be careful coming home,” she says.

“I will. Bye,” You hang up the phone and go back to your work.

“Alright, that´s enough,” Serenna says two hours later. “I think we need to go home.” The last of other volunteers wandered out well over an hour ago.

“Sounds like a plan,” you say. You stack your gift lists into a relatively organized pile and get up to grab your jacket and umbrella.

“Will you be OK to the station?” Serenna asks. “You remember where you´re going?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Down the street, turn right, then cross, go left, walk two blocks, station.”

She smiles, “That´s right. C´mon, I´ll walk you out.” You follow behind her as she leads you down a short hallway. “The front door locks automatically at six o´clock,” she says. “We always use this door after hours. Thanks for much for all your help.”

“Anytime,” you say. You chat with her for a few minutes before exiting the building. You look at your watch and note that there´s still plenty of time for you to make an appearance at the party, although all you really feel like doing is going to sleep. You walk down the street, turn right at the corner, cross the street, hang a left, walk two more blocks…no station. A sinking feeling seeps under your skin. “Wait a minute,” you say. You look around, but it´s dark and nothing in this neighborhood is familiar to you.

You decide your best bet is just to backtrack and start over. You must have gotten your wires crossed by exiting from a different door at the other end of the building. It is so unlike you, but you´re tired and you were thinking of other things. So you reverse all the directions in your brain and begin walking the two blocks back to the corner where you had turned left…so you will turn right this time. “Alright,” you say, rubbing your hands together. “No problem.” You continue to talk yourself out of agitation as the unfamiliar feel of these streets unnerves you. There isn´t a soul to be seen, quite uncommon where you live.

And to top it all off, the weather dorks suddenly shoot a torrential downpour on your head. You curse and put up your umbrella. You turn right at the corner and then cross the street. And then something stirs in your gut, and you have the distinct impression that you are being followed.

Part 19

You look over your shoulder and squint through the sheets of rain, but you see no one. You shake your head and say, “Knock it off. Just think straight and get to the station.” You take a right turn around the corner, and it hits you again. That feeling of being watched. Your body starts to tremble from the cold and from the rising panic you feel. You take a deep breath and cross the street. “OK, so far so good. Looking relatively familiar,” you say. Then you feel it again. You turn and try to focus your eyes against the darkness, and your breath catches in your throat. A man. He stands on the corner across the street. “Oh God,” you say under your breath. You begin walking quickly, trying to remain cognizant of where you are going.

Your feet move quickly, and your brain scrambles to keep up as you talk yourself through it. “Turned…right last time, so turn left this time. Just pay attention. Just keep walking. Keep thinking and—“

“So where are you headed, princess?”

You gasp loudly and jump as you hear the voice behind you. “Shit,” you say as your breathing becomes erratic. You begin to run straight ahead and finally drop your umbrella since it is only slowing you down. The rain pelts down on you, and your begin to lose track of your directions. You force yourself to pay attention then you say out loud, “Left, left….oh thank God!” You feel some relief as you see the multi-service building again…but then you realize that it is not your destination. You now have to reverse your directions again in order to get to the station. Luckily, though, the streets are better lit.

You quickly glance over your shoulder and see no one behind you. But it´s so hard to see anything at all. No matter, you´ll just keep running until you get safely to the station. Besides, the adrenaline racing through you will never let you slow down.

“Why in such a hurry?”

You scream as a man jumps out of the alley in front of you and tries to block your path. Full-fledged panic takes over as you stumble and run away from him, dropping your purse and having no idea now where you are going. You yell for help, but all the buildings around you are dark. You can hear his heavy footsteps tromping quickly behind you, and you heave heavy sobs as your panic pushes you faster and faster, the rain drenching your clothing and finally your skin. It is so cold and so wet, and your brain cannot actually wrap around what is happening. You turn a corner, and without warning another man jumps out of the alleyway, knocking you to the ground. You scream again as you hit the sidewalk. You scamper ahead on the ground, wriggling far enough away from him to get to your feet again while the other man, the one originally chasing you, finally rounds the corner.

You take off like a shot, the panicked tears on your face indiscernible from the rain. You turn another corner as you hear the men yelling behind you. Halfway down the block you see a lonely telephone booth. You quickly examine the rest of the dark street and decide this may be your only hope. You scamper into the booth and frantically shut the door, pinning your back against the wall behind your while jamming your feet against the door to keep it shut as the men begin to bang on it and taunt you. You are separated from your attackers by only four panes of glass on each side. You hop on one foot as you alternately lift it to hold the door and drop it again for balance.

You pick up the receiver and fight to keep your hand steady to dial the emergency number. The men bang on the door again, and it gives a little. You ram your legs tight to keep it closed and scream, “Get the fuck away from me! I´m calling the police, you fuckin´ bastards!” You try to sound as menacing as you can in your hysterical state.

The men stand outside the booth and laugh at you. “Police?” one of them says. “Police don´t come here. Now quit being such a squirrel and come on out here. We won´t hurt you,” he says with a leer.

“Fuck off!” you yell to their extreme amusement. “Come on, come on,” you whine into the phone as it rings. Finally an operator picks up, “Emergency services…“

“Help me! Please!”

“…please hold.” You hear a clicking sound as music begins to play.

“What the fuck?!” you yell into the phone.

The men laugh. “See, told you so!”

You wait on hold for a few seconds, which seems like forever, and then you get another idea. You hang up the phone.

“Ah, gonna come out and play now?” one of the men says.

“Go to hell!” you yell as you fumble through your pockets for change.

“Quit being such a little bitch!” The man begins to bang on the booth. “Come out of there!”

Your fingers finally find the right change as the rest of it tumbles off your trembling hand to the floor. You force it into the slot with fingers that just won´t stay still and then dial the number. The phone rings….and rings…and rings…. “Answer, answer, answer,” you whine over and over as your tears come more rapidly.

“Hello….”

“Kayla!!”

“…thank you for calling the Jedihunks Temple. We are currently unavailable….”

“Shit!!” You hit the phone in frustration. No one ever answers the phone during parties.

“…but please leave a message, and we´ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

You hear the beep and begin to yell. “Pick up! You guys! Please!!” You choke out a sob and continue. “I don´t know where the hell I am! And these fucking lunatics are CHASING ME!! PICK UP THE PHONE!!” Your voice becomes wild…your words punctuated by high-pitched wheezes. “I´m at the multi-service center…I was….then…I got lost…. Oh God,” you whimper…and then scream, “PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE!!” And then you hear another beep, and then dead air. “No! No! No!” you repeat frantically. You fumble for more change and then notice that the men have disappeared. You look to the sides, up and down the street…no one.

“They could be hiding…watching me,” you say quietly in a terrified voice. You take a deep breath and look around again. You keep your foot securely on the door and crane your neck to try and look behind you…and you gasp as you look up. “Transport station,” you whisper.

Part 20

You take a deep breath and try to gather your thoughts. “Think, just think…. You got into this, you can get out of it.” You look to the transport station, which is actually across the street opposite the buildings to your back. You look up at the ceiling.
“What do I do? What do I do?” You look down to the corner. It´s completely deserted. “It´s not that far. Just to the corner, across the street, and you´re there.” You mull the plan over in your mind and visualize it. Running to the corner, crossing the street. You are startled by the noise of a lone speeder racing past the booth and out of sight.

“Where the hell is everybody?” It´s Saturday night, and the streets are dead, even near the station. “But there have to be people at the station,” you say. “There have to be. So…to the corner, across the street, and you´re home free.” Your breathing, still erratic, calms a little, and you swallow hard. You take your foot off the door, and look up and down the street. You stand there for a moment to make sure they aren´t watching you…to make sure they aren´t just waiting for you to let your guard down.

Your hand still shakes as you place your fingers against the door. You look again, ready to jump back and block the door if need be, but you still see no one. “Alright, let´s do it. You can do it. This is your only way out.” You take a deep breath. “OK, on three.” You look around again as you feel your heart rate increase. You place your hand a little more firmly against the door. “One…. Two…..” You take several quick breaths. “Three. Go.”

You push the door open and shoot out of the booth. “Go, go, go, go,” you chant under your breath as your feet carry you faster than you knew was possible. In an instant you are approaching the corner, and the station comes into full view. “Go, go, go.” You don´t even slow as you dart out into the street, your panic building as you anticipate a possible attack. You make a quick, instinctive decision as you run toward the elevator. “Stairs,” you say. “Take the stairs. Keep moving.” You circle the elevator shaft and grab hold of the door handle to the stair well. You pull, and nothing happens.

“Shit,” you say and pull again. It´s locked. You curse again under your breath and run back to the elevator, banging on the button. “Come on! Come on!” You look madly around you, but you don´t see anyone. The elevator doors remain shut, and you bang on the button again. “Open the fucking doors,” you growl as you bounce up and down.

The doors finally open slowly, and you breathe a sigh of relief as you step inside. But before you get all the way in you hear the pounding of feet and turn in horror to see your pursuers closing in on you, and you trapped in the elevator. You start pushing buttons like mad to get the door to close, but as it slides shut, two pairs of arms reach in to stop it.

“NO!” you scream and begin kicking and flailing your arms as they grab for you. Before you can defend yourself further, you are shoved against the wall. One of the men grabs you by your hair and pulls you close to his repulsive face.

“You should´ve played nice,” he says, the stench of his breath assaulting you. “But we can play rough if that´s what you want.” He gives you a sickening smile as he tugs on your hair, forcing your head back.

Between his grip on your hair and your own fear, your body shakes violently, but you spit out, “You´ll have to fucking kill me first.”

He just laughs and whips you around, placing his hand firmly over your mouth and grabbing you around your waist with his other arm. Your screams are muffled against his hand, and you kick at his partner as he tries to grab your legs. You get off a good kick to his stomach before he is able to restrain your legs.

“Come on,” he says. “Let´s get her out of here and underground.”

You thrash like mad in a futile attempt to free yourself from being taken who knows where. But in spite of your terror, you make certain to keep your eyes fixed on where they are taking you.

“Hold still, you fucking whore,” the man at your head says.

“Feisty one, isn´t she?” the other one says.

“Makes it more fun that way.”

You try to scream again, but he clamps his hand tighter, slightly blocking your nose, inhibiting your ability to breathe. You pray for someone, anyone, to walk by, speed by, whatever. But the streets are as deserted as they were before.

They step quickly into an alley and force a door open. Dread fills your senses as they take you inside a building and down several flights of stairs. No one will ever see you now.

You keep trying to kick them, imagining that there is actually a way for you to get out of this before you are trapped in the bowels of this building. Unfortunately, they quickly reach the bottom of the stairs with you easily in tow. The one at your legs stops and releases one of your ankles while he uses his hand to unlock the door. You start kicking him anywhere your foot can reach. You hear him grunt as your shoe makes contact with his shoulder.

As the door opens, he grabs your foot and yanks your leg hard. “You´re going to regret that, bitch.”

“Get her inside,” the other one says.

Hope drains out of your body as you hear the heavy door clang shut. They carry you over to the corner of the dimly lit room. “Gimme that,” the one at your head says to the other.

You see the one at your feet grab a roll of duct tape from the table.

“Put her down,” the one at your head says. They lower you to the ground, and suddenly you are released. In that instant, you scream…a noise you could never imagine yourself making. A moment later, you are flipped over. You feel his hand grab your wet hair as he straddles your back. You continue to scream yourself hoarse as he roughly pulls your head back, bringing your chest up off the ground as well. “No one will ever hear you down here, you stupid bitch. You´re nothing more to rainfall on the gutter to them,” he says gesturing up. The other man cuts him a piece of tape, and he slaps it over your mouth, sticking it firmly in place and effectively muffling your voice. “But I´m getting sick of listening to you,” he barks.

He flips you back over, and you take the opportunity to punch him in the chest with your free arm. He responds by smacking you hard on the face, the force of which leaves you disoriented while he grabs your wrists and shoves you down onto your back, holding your hands high above your head.

::Not this:: your voice howls in your head. ::Anything but this:: You shake your head madly, panicked tears running down your face toward your ear. You try to kick your feet again, but the other man has you held down.

“More tape,” the one in charge orders. In moments your wrists are taped together and then to something – it looks like a pipe – on the wall. The two men stand up and admire their handiwork. You kick your legs again, but they simply back up and laugh at you.

“Good find,” the other one says rubbing his hands on his gray shirt.

“Yeah,” the one in charge responds. “The boss will be pleased.” Then he turns to you and says, “You know where you´re going, squirrelly girl?”

You just stare at him, pure hate seeping out your veins.

“Do you?!” he yells, stomping on your leg. You yell in pain, but the tape halts the sound. You shake your head in response to his question. He leers at you, “You´re going on a trip. I think my boss will find you real special. But first….” He looks over at his partner with a snicker and then at you. “First we´re gonna have some fun.” He pounces on top of you so his ugly face hovers just above yours. You squirm and squeal the best you can under his body. “Looks like you picked the wrong neighborhood to get lost in, didn´t you?” He gives you a disgusting smile. “But don´t worry, we´ll take real good care of you. You´re lucky you found us. This neighborhood can be pretty rough, and other guys aint as friendly as we are.”

And you are paralyzed with fear, cursing your decision to ever leave that phone booth.

Part 21

You close your eyes as his face gets closer to yours. ::Think, think, think, think:: You wiggle your fingers and feel the pipe, or whatever it is, that your hands are taped to. You wrap your fingers around it and squeeze, feeling its surface and girth.

He licks the side of your face and you shudder. “See, I aint so bad after all, am I?” he says.

An idea forming in your head, you take as deep a breath as you can and order your body into stillness. Then you open your eyes and look at him.

“Hey,” he says to his partner. “I think she likes me.”

His partner snorts.

He leans down and whispers into your ear, “Now, I can take this tape off your mouth, and you´ll be good, right?”

You nod.

“Cuz nobody is gonna hear you. And we need your mouth for…” he snorts “…other things.”

You feel sick…so sick. But you nod again. He peels the tape off your face, and it painfully rips at your lips, causing your eyes to water over. But you don´t make a sound.

He sits up, still straddling your waist. “See,” he says to his partner. “She´s quiet.”

You test the pipe in your hands by pulling yourself closer to the wall. It´s solidly secured, unfortunately.

“What the hell is she doing?” his partner asks, a bit agitated.

“My arms hurt. Just loosening up a bit,” you say in a scratchy voice.

“That´s right,” the man in charge says. “She´s not going anywhere. In fact…” He begins to loosen his belt.

::Oh God…no, no, no….:: You feel your body begin to tremble again.

Then, of all things, he stands up. Turns toward his partner and boasts, “Watch how it´s done.”

It´s all you need. The moment he turns around, you use the pipe to roll up, pulling your legs off the floor and kicking him as hard as you can in the groin. He doubles over and howls, and you scream as loud as you can again, kicking as his partner dives in, trying to restrain you. Sheer madness takes over, and you twist your body around, shrieking and swinging your elbows, making any attempt to strike him.

“Hold still! Fuckin´ bitch!”

You breathe in heavy and some other voice comes out of your mouth, low and coarse, “You touch me, and I kill you. You hear me? I´ll fuckin´ kill you!” Your eyes lock to his with fierce intensity, and he hesitates for a moment.

But then the man in charge recovers. He throws his partner off of you, grabs your hair, and pushes your face into the cold, hard cement floor. “You´re gonna pay!”

“No! No!” you shriek against his grip on your head. A shock of pain shoots down your back as his fist hits your shoulder.

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” He tries to cover your mouth with his hand, but you bite his fingers, your teeth piercing his skin. He yelps, pulling his hand away, and then slaps your face and knocks your head back to the floor.

You continue to use your strained voice, crying out as loud as you can. The man in charge stands up, kicks you in the stomach, and then reaches for the roll of tape. Suddenly, a loud crash is heard against the heavy metal door. The two men look over. “What the fuck was that?” the man in charge asks.

“I dunno,” his partner says.

“Well, go look!”

The tiniest glimmer of hope races through you, and you begin to scream for help.

“I told you to shut up!” He begins to unwind the tape, and you scream louder.

His partner looks out a peephole. “Nothing out there.”

Before the man in charge can put the tape over your mouth, a loud bang comes from the door, and he turns around. “Oh shit!”

You stop screaming for a moment and raise your head up to see the door. A green, solid light protrudes through the door, the metal glowing orange and melting away from the top to the bottom of the door.

“What the hell is that?” the partner yells.

A second later the green light disappears, and the door flies open. And then nothing. The hallway is dark and still. No one is there. “Oh no,” you say fretfully. Did you hallucinate it? “Qui-Gon?” you ask hopefully, your voice almost gone. “Qui-Gon?”

“Who?” the two men say in unison, turning toward you.

The moment their backs are turned to the door, you see a blue light ignite in the dark. You drop your head to the cement and begin to cry tears of relief….but only for a moment.

“Shit! Jedi!” the man in charge yells as Obi-Wan, dressed in black, rushes through the door. “Shoot him!”

You scramble to your knees, pulling yourself up by the pipe on the wall that you´re still attached to, as blaster fire fills the room. You watch in awe as Obi-Wan deflects each shot with his light saber. The men shoot frantically, but Obi-Wan´s defense is precise, skilled.

An instant later, Qui-Gon is in the room. Obi-Wan takes on the man in charge, while Qui-Gon goes after his partner. It isn´t even a match, as your kidnappers are completely on the defensive. While the confrontation ensues, you attempt to grab the end of the duct tape with your teeth in order to free your hands, but you can´t get your face close enough.

You look over your shoulder to see Obi-Wan swing his saber and split the man in charge´s blaster in half. The man in charge stands there dumbstruck holding only the smoking handle.

Meanwhile, Qui-Gon has already disarmed the partner who shudders against the wall as Qui-Gon looms over him.

You tug at your restraints, still shaking and your breath wheezing. You have to get out of there. The pipe creaks as you pull on it. “Here, let me help you.” You look up to see Qui-Gon kneeling next to you.

“Please hurry,” you whisper frantically.

“It´s alright,” he says, his voice a soothing rumble. “You are safe now.”

“I just wanna get out of here,” you whimper between shallow breaths.

“I know. Soon enough, little one,” he says, placing a large hand on your shoulder. He then begins to unwind the tape from your wrists. Suddenly you are shocked by fire ripping through your arm. You wail as you fall back against the wall. Out of the corner of your eye you see the man in charge pointing another blaster at you. A split second later, the gun flies out of his hand, and he is hurled up high into the air and lodged against the wall, held there by invisible strings.

You blink the tears out of your eyes and take a deep breath against the pain. And there you see Obi-Wan staring up at the man against the wall, a punishing look on his face. The man in charge squeals as he hangs in mid-air, his partner cowering in the corner. Obi-Wan stands motionless, seeming to hold your attacker in the air with his eyes alone.

Qui-Gon lays his hand on your arm. He places his large fingers against your cheek. “It´s a surface wound. You will be alright. I promise,” he says with a kind smile. He looks over his shoulder. “Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan does not respond.

“Obi-Wan!”

Nothing.

Qui-Gon walks over to him. “Padawan! Enough!” With that, the man in charge slides down the wall and falls to the floor, yelping as he comes to a dead stop on the cement. Obi-Wan turns around and Qui-Gon says, “You have injured this man.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan hisses through his teeth and stalks over to you. He quickly unwraps the rest of the tape from your wrists. He takes your cold, numb hands in his, and they begin to warm.

“Please,” you whisper, unable to look at him. “I just want to go HYPERLINK http://home.\” home.”

“We´ll need to get you to a healer. For this,” he says pulling gingerly on the burned fabric of your sweater. “I´m sorry… I…. My focus lapsed for a moment,” he says the last word in a disgusted tone. “I was watching you instead of him and….”

“Get me out of here,” you say louder, but your voice raspy.

He guides you to stand, and you attempt to take a step, but your leg gives out on you…the leg that was stomped on eariler. Obi-Wan catches you as you stumble. “You are hurt,” he says. “Let me—“

“No, I can do it,” you say. You try to walk again, but fall once more.

“No, you can´t,” he says, and he picks you up before you can protest. You swing your tired, uninjured arm over his head, and as he carries you out of the room away from your terror, you are struck by the realization that you are finally safe. You feel all your panic begin to loosen as Obi-Wan quickly takes you up the stairs. When the fresh air hits your face, you shiver, but never have you been more grateful. Like a rapture, you begin to cry. You lower your head to Obi-Wan´s shoulder and wrap your other arm around him, despite the painful wound. Your body begins to shake all over as you let loose the horror inside you at what just happened and what could have happened. You cling to him tightly and bury your face against his neck as your tears flow. You feel him stop and sit down on something. His hand covers the back of your head, and his other arm holds you tightly against him as he whispers apologies and comfort into your ear.

Part 22

You open your eyes slowly. You try to move, but your entire body aches. You feel a warm touch on your arm and hear a woman´s voice, “Lie still. Go back to sleep.” You close your eyes and quickly lose consciousness.

Again, you feel yourself beginning to awaken. Your head is clouded. You have no idea where you are, or how long you have been there. The voices are clearer…you recognize one…and another. Your eyelids are heavy, but you manage to open them. Your vision is somewhat blurred.

“Can you hear me?”

You look in the direction of the voice, and blink your eyes to clear them. “Kayla?” Your throat burns when you speak.

She smiles wide, tiny tears popping out of her eyes. “Yes.”

“Where am I?”

“The clinic. The healers have kept you asleep for a while to heal your injuries…and to keep your stress down,” she says.

“How…. How did they know?”

“We heard your message. I´m afraid we didn´t hear it soon enough. We ran to the phone, but it had already disconnected,” she says.

“But…how? How did they find me? I don´t even know where I was,” you say.

She smiles and says, “They´re Jedi´s. They knew.”

“It was Obi-Wan.”

You turn your head at the sound of Qui-Gon´s voice. He smiles and places his hand on your head. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Achy.”

He nods. “You are doing well. Part of your physical healing is your emotional healing as well. The healers are helping you with that.”

“What did you mean about Obi-Wan?” you asks.

“He knew where to find you,” Qui-Gon says. “Once we were close to the center, he was able to locate you.”

“How?”

“He just knew. He would be here,” Qui-Gon says, “but he has been sent away. He will return soon. Now, go back to sleep.” He lightly strokes your forehead, and very soon your eyelids fall shut.

The nights are difficult. During the day you feeling surprisingly well given what happened. Qui-Gon was right, the healers did help you to heal physically and emotionally. During the daylight hours you are filled with gratitude that you survived alive and mostly well. But at night the dreams come. In the clinic the healers were there to stop the nightmares. But now you have to sleep alone. You do the relaxation exercises they taught you and try to plant a positive thought before falling asleep, but the dreams eventually come. They tell you it´s part of the process of healing…your brain is just processing the experience.

So you take your seat in the garden one night when you have given up on the prospect of sleeping. Your writing inspiration has stalled out on you, so, for the most part, you just sit and breathe, looking at the sky, the plants…appreciating the calm and the safety you feel in this place.

You are slightly startled by a rattling noise. You look in its direction and take a deep breath.

Obi-Wan closes the door behind him and walks over. He takes a chair next to you. “I am sorry. I have been away. They—“

“I know,” you say.

His eyes examine you. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

“And your arm?”

“Better than new,” you say.

He shakes his head. “I am so sorry about that. I should have—“

“Obi-Wan,” you say, leaning forward, “I would much prefer a shot to the arm than having you not show up at all.” You reach out and place your hand on his, and he immediately wraps his fingers around yours. “Thank you. If you hadn´t come to my rescue—“

“I will always come to your rescue,” he says as his eyes sink into yours. “You don´t ever have to consider the alternative.”

Your heart quickens, but you simply smile. “You just returned, I take it?”

He nods, “Yes, I came as soon as I could. I checked in at the Temple and came straight away.”

“Why? Looking for a bathtub?”

He smiles. “Do I offend?”

“Nah,” you say. “You´re alright this time.”

“What do you mean this time?”

You laugh. “So, are you gonna be around for Christmas? It´s only two weeks away.”

“Well, I cannot ever say for certain when I will be around,” he says, somewhat reluctantly.

“Well, Kim is trying to get Mace to dress up as Santa Claus. I´ll take pictures if you are away,” you say.

“You are going to have to explain all of your traditions to me,” he says. “I don´t fully understand them.”

“The guy hanging on the front door…the one in the red suit?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Santa Claus,” you say.

Obi-Wan´s eyes grow wide and then he laughs uproariously. “Please do take pictures if I am not here,” he says as he chuckles. He sighs amusedly and then asks, “And this Scrooge?”

“Huh?”

“Kim called you Scrooge,” he says.

“You never forget a thing,” you say.

“No, I don´t,” he says.

“OK, well Ebenezer Scrooge is a character from a book called A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. Actually, I have the book upstairs. I´ll let you borrow it. It´s a quick read,” you say.

He leans back in his chair. “Tell it to me instead.”

“Well….alright,” you say. You clear your voice and say. “Jacob Marley was dead as a doornail.” And then you proceed to tell him the story in your own words. He watches you with keen interest and amusement…especially at your impressions of Marley´s ghost and “born again” Scrooge as you call him.

A few nights later, you lay in your bed, eyes open again. A small party is happening downstairs, but you can´t quite get into the spirit of it. You´re too tired and hitting the point of sensory overload. Finally at the point of exhaustion, you close your eyes and fall asleep.

The dream begins again. Being chased, captured, bound. In your dream you scream, but no sound comes out of your mouth. Your mind yells for consciousness, but your body is heavy and unresponsive. The dream worsens. You try to make a noise, anything to wake yourself up. All that results is a loud whisper. You fight and fight and fight…and finally your scream is given voice….

You awake with a start, shooting straight up in bed. A moment later your bedroom door flies open, and you gasp at the surprised entry. Obi-Wan runs over and sits on your bed next to you, placing his hands on your shoulders while your body shakes and your breath comes in fits.

“It´s alright,” he says. “Just a dream.”

Your panic does not subside, and your lungs taunt you. “Let me up! Let me up!” You practically push him off the bed and kick your legs out from under the covers. He steps back out of your way in confusion, and you jump up and race to the window, throwing it open. The cold air blasts in your face and chills your skin.

“What are you doing?” he asks and rushes over to the window. “It´s freezing out there.”

“I can´t breathe…I can´t breathe.” You take large gulps of frosty air.

“Shhhhh….” He stands right behind you and strokes your hair. “It was only a dream.”

You shake your head quickly as you lean out the window to fill your lungs again.

“Yes. Only a dream,” he says.

“But…in my dream….you don´t come….and they….”

He leans forward and rests his head against yours. “I would never let anyone hurt you. Never. No matter what happens between us, I promise you that.”

Slowly you begin to relax. You lean back into him and sigh. “When will it go away?”

“I don´t know,” he says. He pauses for a moment and then continues, “In my dreams I hear your screams. They haunt me even when I am awake.”

“I just want to sleep again,” you say.

“I know,” he says. “Come, let´s close the window.”

“Alright,” you say, stepping to the side. You watch him shut the window, and then he turns to you, placing his warm hand on your cool face.

“I couldn´t bear it if anything happened to you,” he says.

You give him a weak smile. “I´m fine. Really. You were right. Just a dream.” The two of you stand there hesitantly watching each other.

Obi-Wan steps closer. “If Terri hadn´t done what she did…. Would you…have still told me you only wanted to be friends?”

“No,” you whisper, looking at the floor. After several moments you look up at him. “I´m so sorry about—“

“Shhh,” he says slowly shaking his head. His other hand reaches to caress your cheek. Before you can think, his lips are on yours, warm and full…sliding along yours slowly and sweetly. You whimper and fall against his body. He groans as you reach up and pull his head closer to you. It is a kiss you have longed for and one that has been denied for too long. His hand plunges into your hair, cradling your head as he pours his desire into the kiss.

You come up for air as his lips brush across your cheek and along your jawline. You lean your head back and whimper again as his lips suckle at the soft skin of your neck. You press your body into his, no longer worried about keeping your longing in check.

“Anything.” It is a hushed whisper, his soft lips against your neck. “I´ll give you anything you want…please tell me…anything.”

You moan as his fingers gently dig into your back.

“Please,” he whispers next to your ear. “Tell me…I need to hear you say it….”

You sigh as he lightly nibbles at your earlobe. “Touch me,” you whisper.

“Yessss,” he sighs as his lips run back up your cheek and find your mouth again. He claims you completely with his kiss, his tongue slowly sinking into your mouth and twining with yours. His hand slinks slowly up your side, and you shiver when his thumb delicately traces the curve of your breast. His fingers tease you slowly, and your lips slip away from his with a soft moan as he gently rubs your nipple through the fabric of your nightgown.

His lips caress your neck again, and he sighs, “I want you.”

“Then take me,” you gasp.

Part 23

Obi-Wan´s cheek slides against your face, and he holds your head tenderly. “I don´t want to…to hurt you….after—“

“You won´t,” you say. “You couldn´t.”

You are startled suddenly by a loud banging on the door. Obi-Wan puts his arm around you protectively as the door sudden flies open, and a short man dressed in a trench coat and hat enters the room.

“Who are you?” Obi-Wan says. “And what are you doing here?”

The man flips out a badge. Upon closer inspection it resembles a drama mask with a downturned face. “Sargeant McLeod. Angst Police.”

“Excuse me?” you say.

“Angst police, ma´am. I´m afraid I´m going to have to issue you folks a citation.”

“For what?” Obi-Wan says

“Aiding and abetting,” Sargeant McLeod says.

“Aiding and abetting who?” you ask.

“The Angst Side, ma´am. You´ve got your Light Side, your Dark Side, your Smut Side, and your Angst Side. Unfortunately, the two of you have apparently been in collusion with the Lord of the Angst…”

“Oh!” Obi-Wan spits. “I can´t STAND that guy. That hair! Those ridiculous leather pants! And that incessant tap, tap, tap, tap, tap!”

“´Scuse me, sir,” Sargeant McLeod says. “I say Lord of the ANGST, not Lord of the DANCE.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says.

“The Angst Lord perpetuates self-centered anguish and brooding throughout the galaxy,” Sargeant McLeod explains. “I´m sure you´re familiar with his minions….Eddie Vedder, Nicolas Cage, the entire cast of Dawson´s Creek. All these and more are agents of the Angst Side. And the two of you have been turned.”

“Angst Side? What-- Listen here, I am a Jedi, and there are only TWO sides of the Force, Light and Dark….” Obi-Wan, flustered, continues. “Alright, so perhaps there is a Smut Side as well…but I know for certain that there is no such thing as an Angst Side, and I resent the implication that we have committed some crime.”

Sargeant McLeod pulls out his radio, “Yeah, we have a McGraw situation here. I repeat, McGraw situation. I need immediate assistance.”

You shake your head. “This is beyond bizarre. I mean, I´ve seen bizarre living at the JH Temple, but this is WAY beyond that. Now, I don´t know who the hell you are, but I want you out of my room this instant!”

“Sorry, ma´am. But we have a classic McGraw situation at the moment. I´m afraid I cannot leave until the situation has been resolved.”

“McGraw situation??”

A tall, beefy man with a balding head suddenly enters the room.

“Hey, thanks for coming, Doc,” Sargeant McLeod says. “This here´s Doctor Phil McGraw.”

“Oh crap,” you say.

“Who?” Obi-Wan asks with a confused expression.

You sigh and say with exaggeration, “Hello, McFly! Phil McGraw. Doctor Phil. Oprah´s friend…you know ‘tell-it-like-it-is-Phil´?”

“He´ll be handling this investigation while I search for evidence,” Sargeant McLeod says.

“Evidence? What evidence?” you say.

“Have a seat, sweet cheeks,” Phil says, pushing the two of you to the bed.

You and Obi-Wan sit on the bed, your backs resting against the headboard, and your arms crossed in front of you.

“OK now,” Dr. Phil says as he looks at you. “Let me get this straight. You´ve been lusting after this man for several months, writing dirty little stories about him, and all of a sudden, you decide you just wanna be friends.”

“Excuse me,” Obi-Wan says. “I think we´re already past that part.”

“Quiet, boy! I´m the one doin´ the talking here,” Dr. Phil says.

“Yes sir,” Obi-Wan says.

“Here´s the deal,” you say. “Things were moving happily along, and then Terri—“

“Ooooohhh!” Dr. Phil says, mocking you. “Terri, Terri, Terri. That´s all you can talk about.”

“Hey,” you say. “If you want to get to the bottom of this, I suggest you bring her in here!”

Dr. Phil snorts. “She´s already been McGrawed. She didn´t even last five minutes!”

“Where is she?” Obi-Wan asks.

“Iyanla´s got her now,” Dr. Phil says.

Obi-Wan shudders

“So, little lady,” Dr. Phil says. “You´ve been moping around and playing all thinky winky while this man would have dropped his drawers in an instant to get in on your good stuff.”

“Hey!” Obi-Wan says. “It´s not like that at all. And I would ask you to speak to her with a little more respect!”

“They don´t call me tell-it-like-it-is Phil for nuthin´, Jedi Boy!”

“Fine,” you say. “But our relationship required a lot of consideration. Should we stay friends? Should we take the relationship further? And what kind of damage could be caused to our friendship if that didn´t work out? I care about him very much, and I didn´t want to risk losing him as a friend.”

“That is true,” Obi-Wan says. “We needed time to be sure of our true feelings.”

“And besides, I´ve had PMS. And this weather…I´m seriously light deprived.” You look quickly over at Obi-Wan. “But I don´t know what his excuse is. I suppose he has issues or emotional blocks or something.”

Dr. Phil puts his hands on his hips, “Do I look like John Gray to you?”

“No,” you say.

“Do I?”

“No, Doctor Phil,” you say.

“That little touchy feely wimp wouldn´t last thirty seconds where I come from! I aint no wussy boy! I´m Doctor Phil McGraw. Tell-it-like-it-is Phil!”

“Yes, sir,” Obi-Wan says. “And I do not have issues.”

“Oh really?” Dr. Phil says. “So we´ve got the little lady figured out. She´s got the hots for you, but she´s too skittish and thinky or whatever. So you, Jedi Boy, what´s your story?”

“Well… I….”

“Here you are, big, strong Jedi Boy,” Dr. Phil says. “Probably very popular with that cutesy smile of yours. Son, you´ve got a building full of women ready and willing to drop their knickers for you. What the hell you doin´ hangin´ around a girl who don´t put out?”

“Well…she…uh….” Obi-Wan gives you a nervous grin as you glare at him. “She…she makes me laugh.”

Dr. Phil nods. “She makes you laugh…she makes you laugh…I see.” Then a scowl forms on his face. “Sitting up in the middle of the night discussing life´s big picture makes you laugh…. What is wrong with you, boy? You mean to tell me that a little yippy-ki-yay doesn´t make you laugh? What are you, some kind of swishy pretty boy??”

“I most certainly am not!” Obi-Wan says defiantly.

“Uh-huh,” Dr. Phil says, and then he turns back to you. “Why didn´t you stay in the phone booth?”

“What?”

He says louder, “Why didn´t you stay in the phone booth?”

“Well…I was trying to get out of there…away from—“

“Hold it right there,” Dr. Phil says. “Let´s back up a little bit. Why didn´t you call a cab?”

“Ummm….”

“From the multi-service center! Why didn´t you call a cab? Or do you just make a habit of wandering around strange neighborhoods after dark?”

You begin to get flustered. “I can´t believe you are going to try and blame me for that whole experience!”

“Why didn´t you stay in the phone booth?” Dr. Phil asks again. “You could have called the police.”

“I tried that! They put me on hold,” you say.

“And you couldn´t wait? You know what I think?” Dr. Phil leans in and says, “I think you have Damsel Scully complex.”

“A what?”

“Damsel Scully! It´s basic psychology!” Dr. Phil huffs at your ignorance. “You want to be tough. You want to kick a little ass. Hence, the brave run from the phone booth. On the other hand, you also want to be the damsel in distress and get saved by your knight here.” Dr. Phil´s eyes narrow, and he asks, “Chocolate or vanilla?”

“Chocolate.”

“Pop or iced tea”

“Iced tea”

“Chicken or egg”

“Chicken”

“Angel or Spike?”

“Uh….”

“C´mon, c´mon…. Angel or Spike?”

You rub your chin. “Well….that´s a tough call, really. I mean Angel has that tall, dark, and handsome, sensitive, brooding, I´ll-pine-for-you-forever bit that really gets to a girl, especially when she´s feelin´ bloated or crampy or something. And he looks mighty fine wearing nothing but a towel.”

“Sure, sure….” Dr. Phil says.

“What in the name of the Force is going on here?” Obi-Wan asks, completely bewildered.

“Quiet, Jedi Boy. Your turn is coming,” Dr. Phil says. “Please, go on.”

You smile. “But Spike…I mean, Spike is all attitude…cocky, gets the best lines, a bad boy to the bone. Really revs my engines. So Angel is all ‘aaawww, sigh´ but Spike is more like ‘rrrrooowwwrrrr´ if you know what I mean.

“Mmm-hmm…very interesting.”

“What do you mean, ‘rrrrooowwwrrrr´?” Obi-Wan asks, giving you the eye. “Don´t I make you go ‘rrrrooowwwrrrr´?”

“Sure you do,” Dr. Phil says to Obi-Wan. “But this girl here is all talk, no action. Now you´re real to her, so she´s actin´ all foolish instead of doing what she should have done the moment she meant you.”

“Which is….” Obi-Wan says.

“Jumping your bones, boy! Hell, haven´t you been paying attention?”

“Of course I have, sir, but—“

“Alright, Jedi Boy, now it´s your turn,” Dr. Phil says. “Chocolate or vanilla?”

“Chocolate.”

“Beer or Bourbon?”

“Beer”

“Beef jerky or Slim Jim?”

“Beef jerky.”

“Wait,” you interject. “Why are his questions different from mine?”

“Well, aren´t you little Miss Smarty Pants? Decades of scientific research have gone into forming these questions, but all of a sudden you know better?”

“No, Doctor Phil, just curious,” you say.

“I´m Doctor Phil McGraw!”

“Yes, sir,” you say.

“Now,” Dr. Phil says. “Where was I? Oh. Porsche or Pick-Up?”

“Porsche.”

“Buffy or Willow?”

“Buffy.”

“HA!” you shout.

“What?” Obi-Wan asks.

“You are so not a Buffy man,” you say.

“I am, too,” Obi-Wan says.

“She´d kick your ass,” you say. “Leave you in a ragged heap whining and sobbing, she would.”

“She would not!”

“She would!

“Would not!”

“Would!”

Obi-Wan breaks and looks down at his hands, “OK…she would.”

“But you see what´s going on here?” Dr. Phil says. “This boy likes abuse. Why the hell else is he hanging around with you?”

“Which is EXACTLY why you two are under arrest!” Sargeant McLeod says as he appears again from nowhere.

“What´s the charge?” Obi-Wan asks.

“You two are agents of the Angst Side!”

“We are not!” you yell.

“Check this out, Doc,” Sargeant McLeod says, handing Dr. Phil a stack of your CD´s.

Dr. Phil shuffles through them. “Mmm-hmm…yep….oh boy….just as I suspected.”

“May I just make the point that those are HER CD´s,” Obi-Wan says.

“What?” you ask indignantly. “What´s wrong with my CD´s?”

“What´s wrong with them?” Dr. Phil says mockingly. “Did you hear that, Sargeant McLeod? She wants to know what´s wrong with them.”

“Indeed,” Sargeant McLeod says.

“What?!” you ask again.

Dr. Phil selects a few of the CD´s. “How´s this, little lady? Sarah McLachlan? The soundtrack from Ally McBeal??”

“But…I….” you stammer.

“And this!” Dr. Phil exclaims waving one around. “Celine Dion??”

“Now, wait a minute!” you yell. “I didn´t buy that one! My aunt gave it to me! You can´t hold that one against me!”

“Actually,” Obi-Wan says. “I rather like Celine Dion.”

Dr. Phil´s eyes burn into Obi-Wan. “What did you say, Jedi Boy? You ‘rather like´ Celine Dion.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says with an innocent grin.

Dr. Phil whacks Obi-Wan over the head with the Celine CD. “Do you know who listens to Celine Dion? Do you?”

“No, sir.”

“John Gray, that´s who! That little sissy twit! Only sissy twit men listen to Celine Dion, Jedi Boy! Are you a sissy twit man?”

“No, sir,” Obi-Wan says.

Dr. Phil sighs. “Sargeant McLeod, I think we´d better take these two down to the station. Book ‘em on First-Degree Angst and resisting the authority of me, Doctor Phil McGraw.” Dr. Phil´s beeper suddenly goes off, and he looks down to check it. “Gotta run. Oprah calls.”

“Wait!” you yell. “Doctor Phil! Please! Isn´t there anything we can do?”

“Oh, I can´t get arrested. I can´t,” Obi-Wan whines. “I´m a Jedi! I can´t get arrested for angst.”

“Happens all the time, son,” Dr. Phil says.

You move forward and kneel on the bed. “Please, Doctor Phil, please! Can´t you just let us off with a warning? I promise, we can have fun and be light-hearted! Really!”

Dr. Phil gives you a sideways glance and walks back toward the bed. “Get up, Jedi Boy. Stand over here by me.” Obi-Wan obliges and stands ready for Dr. Phil´s instructions. “Now, take your clothes off.”

“Yes, sir,” Obi-Wan says.

Dr. Phil looks at you. “You see how easy that is, little lady?”

Your mouth drops open in shock as Obi-Wan diligently removes layer after layer of clothing. “Yeah,” you say with awe, staring at the topless padawan as he begins to unfasten his pants.

Dr. Phil points at both you and Obi-Wan as he speaks. “Now, you two promise me you´ll get down to some serious bucking and writhing. I have had enough of your making nice-nice and batting eyelashes. I´m talkin´ hot monkey love! Can you do that for Doctor Phil? Can you?”

“Oh yes, sir,” Obi-Wan says with an enthusiastic nod, standing only in his underwear and his pants around his knees. “Most assuredly, sir.”

“That´s the spirit,” Dr. Phil says, swatting Obi-Wan on the back. “You kids have fun now. C´mon, Sarge, I´ll buy you a drink.”

“Sounds good, Doc,” Sargeant McLeod says, following Dr. Phil out the door. “But what about Oprah?”

“Ah, she´ll be fine for now,” Dr. Phil says. “Besides, it´s Iyanla´s shift now.”

“Iyanla?” Obi-Wan asks. “NOOOOOO!!!!”

You gasp and awaken with a jump. Your eyes dart to either side of the bed. No one. You slowly sit up and shake the grogginess off. You look at the clock. Only an hour or so has passed since you fell asleep. No sign of Obi-Wan…or Dr. Phil. “Whoa,” you say, rubbing your eyes. “Strangeness.”

You can hear the party still going on downstairs. And then you hear a distant voice in your head. It´s a man´s voice laced with a southern drawl….”I´m talkin´ hot monkey love.”

You fling the covers off your body and march over to your closet. You stop suddenly at the mirror and say to your reflection, “You´ve been a total, freakin´ gooberhead!” Then you dive into your closet in search of the perfect party dress.

Part 24

“Crap!” you exclaim as you rifle through your clothes. “Hot monkey love requires something more than sweats and-- Ooohh myyy gaawd….” You forgot you had it. In all your angsty, moody madness, you totally forgot about it. Way back when…upon the first mention of the Naughty Schoolgirl, a deviant thought formed in your mind. Before you started getting all…all…thinky winky, as Dr. Phil would say. You´d been up late, as usual, surfing online…and you found it. The Naughty Schoolgirl Dress.

You pull it off the back hook of your closet. You had always kept it well hidden like that. You had considered wearing it for his birthday party, but then talked yourself out of it. But as you look at it now, it makes you grin from ear to ear. It´s not quite the demure white blouse with flouncy plaid skirt. What you hold in your hand is a woman´s Naughty Schoolgirl dress. It´s plaid, yes. But short, slim, sleeveless, neckline low, and laced up the front for optimum accentuation of a woman´s – not a girl´s – figure. The ultimate wanton schoolgirl jumper.

You throw off your nightgown and pull the dress over your body. A bra? Child´s play! You lace the front tight enough for support and to bump up that cleavage. Underwear? Hmmm… A thought occurs. You clamor through your dresser drawer and find the sweetest, laciest white panties ever made. “This´ll kill him,” you say.

You look through your other drawer and find your black stockings…like innocent schoolgirl tights…only not. Garter belt? Check. You pull the stockings up your legs and attach them to the belt.

You walk into the bathroom and leer at yourself. “So who rescues a Jedi, I wonder….” Hmmm….lipstick…mascara…. What about the hair? Braids, of course. Braids that dance.

Shoes…. Ah-ha! You grab your Mary Jane´s with the 3-inch chunky heel. You step in front of the full-length mirror. Mmmm… Engines revved. Ready to go.

You practice slinking as you walk down the stairs. Damn, it´s been a long time since you´ve worn these shoes. You have to figure the heels out before you make your entrance into that party room, or you´ll be “Live from New York, it´s Saturday Night.”

You stand in the doorway of the party room and look around until you spot him. God, he´s wearing black again. You´ll never harass him for wearing that every time you see him. JH sibs pass you with both words of shock and encouragement. You watch the side of his face as he obliviously makes small talk with other revelers. You stand there, waiting for him to turn and see you. He doesn´t. You chuckle as you look up at the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. There has to be hundreds of sprigs. It´s always good to lessen the odds.

A new tactic is obviously called for here. You hold yourself straight and tall and begin to walk slowly toward him. ::Obi-Wan:: you think loudly. At least you think you´re thinking loudly. You´ve never quite tried this before. ::Obi-Wan, look at me:: He looks the other direction, and you snort. ::Turn around. Towards the door.::

He turns toward you, but there´s no look of recognition on his face. It takes a few seconds before it dawns on him. Then his eyes pop out of his head, and his mouth drops open. You smile and look above his head. Perfect.

“I caught you,” you say a few steps away from him.

“Huh?” is his stunned response.

“Under the mistletoe,” you say. As you take your final step, you grab his head and bring his lips to yours. He gasps in surprise as you give him one perfectly luscious kiss. Then you pull away, sucking his lower lip for a moment longer as he exhales a groan, and turn around and walk away…making damn sure your braids dance when you walk.

You keep a step ahead of him – but just barely – all the way out of the party room, into the hallway, and through the garden doors. As soon as you hear the door carelessly slam shut, his hands are on you, spinning you around, and he claims your mouth. His kiss is languorous but fierce. He leans you against a wall and presses his body into yours, his tongue deliciously finding its way into your mouth. You raise your knee and rub your thigh up and down his leg, and his hand grabs your hip, squeezing you tight.

You nibble lightly on his lip as he pulls away and looks at you. “Gods, what are you doing to me?” he says.

You smile coyly and bite your bottom lip. “I´ll show you.” You take him by the hand and lead him out of the garden and back into the hallway.

“Wait,” he says.

“Shhh,” you say turning quickly. “It´s too cold out there.” You turn back around and continue walking down the hall. Before you make your way up the stairs, you spot a small plate of chocolate cupcakes with red and green sprinkles. “Perfect,” you say with a smile as you make off with the plate, and lead Obi-Wan up the stairs.

Instead of stopping at your floor, you take the next flight of stairs up. “Where are we going?” he asks.

“Why? You getting worn out already?”

“No.”

“Good.” Once you get up to the third floor, you walk down to the end of the hallway and open the last door. You walk into the room and turn on the light. It´s a simple room with a sofa and a couple of comfy chairs. You shut the door and lock it.

You place your hand against his chest and push him backward to sit on the couch. You set the plate on the end table and straddle his legs. You gasp as you land on his lap and feel something very large and very hard between your legs. You look down and then laugh.

“You flatter me,” he says with a grin and a wiggle of his eyebrows. You rise back up so he can move his light saber out of the way, pulling his belt off and tossing it to the other side of the sofa.

Before you can make another move, he pulls your head down, demanding another kiss. You eagerly comply as his hands snake down your back. You can feel him growing hard between your legs as your skirt rides up, and you grind yourself into him, eliciting moans from both of you.

You break away from the kiss and lean over to grab a cupcake. He sucks at your neck, and you nearly drop the cupcake as a result. You lean your head back and oblige him, grabbing the back of his head with your other hand, as he tastes your soft skin. You whimper as his hands slide up your sides, skate over your breasts, and caress your bare chest. His fingertips graze over your shoulder and down your arm, tickling slowly at your elbow as you shiver from his delicate touch.

You finally push him back against the couch and hold the cupcake in front of him. “Cupcake,” you say with a sly grin.

“You didn´t get that out of the toilet, did you?” You wrinkle your face at him, and he smiles. “Just checking,” he quips.

You remove the gold foil wrapping, and break a piece off. You giggle as some of the sprinkles fall down the front of your dress, a dollop of frosting landing on your laced up cleavage.

“Mmmm…” Obi-Wan says. “Can I have that part first?”

“Bad boy,” you tease, shaking your head. You offer him the piece you hold in your fingers, and he opens his mouth wide as you feed him.

“It´s good,” he says. “Did you make them?”

“No,” you say. “But I can put them to good use.” You slide your finger through the frosting and then hold it up to his lips. His tongue ventures forth and licks at the tip of your finger before he sucks it into his mouth. You bite your lip and moan as your finger disappears inside his mouth, and you feel his rough, wet tongue swirling around it. Your finger slides back out of his mouth, and he kisses the tip.

He takes the cupcake out of your hand and holds it up to your mouth. You bite down on it, crumbs falling down between you. “Aw, look what a mess you´ve made,” he says.

You swat his hand, and the rest of the cupcake falls to the floor. “Your mess is worse,” you say as you swallow your piece.

“That wasn´t very nice,” he says.

“Sure it was. It means I can do this.” You take hold of his hand, and suck one chocolate covered finger into your mouth. He gasps and pushes his hips up as you slowly run your tongue up the length of his finger, closing your lips tightly around it. “See,” you say, holding his finger against your lips. “I can be nice.”

“So can I,” he purrs, leaning forward and licking the frosting off your chest with a slow, deliberate tongue. You press your hips harder into him as his lips and tongue run along the neckline of your dress. He then leans back and his hands kneed your sides as his thumbs gently massage the bodice of your dress. You press your breasts into his touch, and your body shudders.

Reluctantly, you take hold of his wrists and push his hands away. “But this is all about your needs, remember?” You lean forward and nibble at his earlobe. He chuckles and then gasps as your teeth and tongue tease the round curve of his ear and down to the tender spots on his neck. “Your naughty schoolgirl,” you purr against his neck, “what does she do for you? Hmmm?” He only moans in response as you place featherlight kisses all over his neck, inhaling his heady scent.

You find the buttons of his shirt and quickly bare his chest and stomach to your hungry gaze. You run your fingernails up his chest as he moans again and looks at you with dark, heavy eyes. You bend down and lick at his hard nipple, and he juts his chest forward. In response you gently grab the nipple between your teeth as he gasps and starts writhing his hips underneath you.

You slide your body down his legs until your knees come to rest on the floor, all the while your mouth exploring the skin of his tight stomach. You run your hand down his stomach and over the bulge in his pants, his hips popping off the sofa as you stroke him slowly, much to your pleasure. You unfasten his pants and pull them down, gasping as his hard cock jumps forward upon its release. His boots prohibit undressing him further, but you enjoy the view of him this way, body bared but clothes hanging off his arms and legs in a rather desperate fashion.

“What does she do to you?” you whisper, slowly encircling his erect cock with your fingers. His mouth falls open with a groan as your hand explores his length, your insides quivering at the thought of being filled with him. “Tell me,” you whisper, leaning forward and barely brushing your lips across the head. You teasingly run your lips along his length, gazing up at his begging eyes as you never quite take him into your mouth. He begins to whimper, and you give him the slightest break by circling the head with your tongue, backing away as his reflexes thrust forward.

“Please…” he whispers.

You smile and stretch your arms out to run your hands up his stomach and chest, twirling his braid around your fingers before bringing your hands back down. You lightly lick at his shaft again, and rub your bottom lip on it as you look up at him with innocent eyes. His face is drenched with anticipation. Finally, you take him into your mouth, sucking hard as you take him deeper.

“Oh gods,” he sighs. His hands run through your hair as you suck him harder and faster. He holds your head gently, not pushing but encouraging. He begins to groan loudly as you run your tongue tight against his length. As his vocalizations become louder, he suddenly pulls your head up away from his cock. You look up at him with questioning eyes.

“I….I want…to be inside you,” he says through ragged breaths.

“I thought we were just getting started,” you say sweetly. “But if you´re not up to another round—“

“I´m good for plenty,” he says definitively.

“Well then,” you say with a grin, “what´s the problem?”

“You…you don´t have to—“

“But I want to.” You look back down to his cock, the head almost purple as it twitches toward you. You lick your lips and smile up at him before descending on him again. His hips thrust forward and his groan is raspy as he feels your wet mouth take him in. You suck him faster, forcing his moaning to a fever pitch.

“Ooohhnnnnggghhh….please…please….” he mutters on and on. His hands tangle in your hair as your mouth brings him closer and closer. Something akin to a squeal jumps out of his lungs, and then he shouts and grunts as he explodes inside your mouth, his hips convulsing uncontrollably as you dig your fingers into his flesh.

“Oh gods,” he whispers as his hips fall back to the sofa. You lick at the trails of sweat on his stomach and chest as you rise up again. You bite at the smooth skin of his neck and then bring your head up to look into his eyes.

“So….” you say in a low voice. “That´s what your schoolgirl does to you. What do you do to her?”

His eyes narrow in on you, and then suddenly you find yourself flipped over, your back sinking into the sofa as he now hovers above you. He kisses you hard and deep until he leaves you sufficiently breathless. He gently rubs his finger along your pulsing lips and purrs, “I´ve been waiting a very long time to show you.”

Part 25

His gaze dances across your face. Slowly he traces his fingertip around the fullness of your mouth, while his other arm rests on the couch around your backside. His other fingers come into play as they lightly caress your cheek. His fingers bend, and he gently rubs the backs of them across your forehead, as though studying and memorizing every nuance of your face.

All of this feels frighteningly new to you. Despite your frantic ministrations to him only minutes earlier, you suddenly feel like this is the beginning. You had your schoolgirl act all planned out, from the seduction to his shouts of pleasure. But now…. Now as he stares at you with eyes you´ve never seen before, as he touches you sweetly, almost reverently, as his energy surrounds you with breathtaking intensity, your act falls away…and it is just you.

His fingers slide down to rest at your temple. “Do you know what I want?” he asks.

Your mind is drunk on anticipation. “Wha--?” is all you can manage to respond.

His lips find your cheek, savoring the softness of your skin. They slowly trail back to the soft nub of your ear. His cheek rests against yours for a moment before he whispers deep in his throat, “Your surrender.”

You whimper as a tremor begins at that deepest point inside you and ripples out all the way to your skin, its smooth surface giving way to tiny bumps, each encapsulating your longing.

His head rises, and a soft smile forms on his face. He gently cups your face in his hand and leans in to place the most wondrous kiss on your lips. The kiss speaks of his soul…his heart…his desire. When he breaks away, his eyelashes flutter and his lungs gasp. He then stands, pulling his trousers up and fastening them but then removing his shirt completely and tossing it aside.

He kneels perfectly still on the floor between your feet as you slouch on the sofa. Then he places a hand on each of your stocking-clad thighs and begins to rub them lightly. He wraps his hands around your legs a little tighter and keeps stroking up and down…up and down…stopping at the tops of your stockings and barely touching your bare skin with his thumbs.

You attempt to steady your breathing as your insides begin to shake. Then his hands run up the length of your dress, rounding at your breasts – and again barely touching your bare skin at the neckline – and then retreating back down. You slowly begin to move your torso in time with his hands, pushing your chest out as his hands come to your covered breasts again, your nipples straining for contact through the fabric.

He leans back again as he brings his hands down. Gently, he lifts your foot from the floor and carefully removes your shoe, careful not to look away from your eyes for more than a moment or two. He removes your other shoe in the same fashion, placing your foot back on the floor.

Still holding your gaze, he pushes your skirt up to fully reveal your garter belts. “Do you have any idea how long I have wanted to touch you?” His voice is a hoarse whisper. He releases one stocking with practiced ease and slides it slowly down your leg, making sure to trail his fingertips over every inch of bare skin revealed to him. He removes your other stocking similarly….slowly and teasingly, his light caresses causing you to shiver.

Then he lowers his head and kisses each knee….and then each thigh. His mouth moves down to the inside of your thigh, sucking gently at your skin as he moves higher. “You are so soft,” he murmurs against you.

You breathe in shallow gasps as his mouth slowly moves higher and higher inside your thighs…alternating between each leg, retreating and climbing again, while his fingers run up your outer thighs and to your hips, lightly playing at the elastic of your underwear. He rises up again and looks into your eyes, gently spreading your legs as your mouth drops half open. His hands rest just short of where you want them to be. He smiles softly and suddenly his thumb just barely rubs at your center, and he licks his lips when he feels the wet fabric. You inhale a sharp gasp, your legs jerking wider.

Immediately, he bends down, and you watch in awe as he places a slow kiss between your legs, the heat radiating through the thin fabric of your panties. You bite your lip and moan quietly at the gentle pressure of his kisses. You feel his staggered breath against your sensitive skin, and a moment later his eyes are level with yours, and he begins to push the strap of your dress off your shoulder. His hand runs down your chest and rubs the now slightly loose fabric against your breast. He makes the tiniest noise as you whimper.

He then begins to unlace the bodice of your dress, and a nervous flash rushes through you. Having untied the bow, he loosens the lace and gently pulls down on your dress. The fabric slides over your curves, and you tighten your arms reflexively as your breasts are revealed to him, this time his mouth dropping half open with a gasp. His eyes are hungry, and your self-consciousness rises as you shift slightly on the sofa. He then kisses you tenderly. “Beautiful,” he whispers with a smile and then kisses you again. “Beautiful,” he repeats against your lips.

Your lips tremble against his as his hands lightly cup your breasts, his fingers stroking you until you moan into his mouth. You grab the back of his head, and pull him into the kiss, venturing your tongue into his mouth. He gasps and presses his body firmly against yours, the sensation of his bare chest on your breasts dissolving any last bit of hesitancy you bear. You press your body up and grab at his hips with your legs.

You unconsciously whine as he breaks from the kiss, pushing you back into the couch. He tugs at your dress as it stubbornly rests at your waist. “Zipper,” you gasp, arching your back and trying to reach for it in the crumpled mess of fabric.

“Here,” he says, reaching around your back. You twist your body slightly as he searches for it with some difficulty. Your soft giggle breaks into a laugh as he fights with the tiny zipper. He begins to laugh, “Foiled again! I can´t believe this!”

“Can´t you just whammy it or something?” you say with a chuckle.

“It does seem to have a mind of its own, doesn´t it?” he says with an amused tone. With one last tug, the zipper finally relents. “There,” he says triumphantly. “You schoolgirls are such teases.”

“Hey,” you say, swatting at him as you lean back into the couch again.

He rubs his nose to yours and grins. You lift your hips as he pulls the dress down and gives it an unceremonious toss over his shoulder. Your laughing reduces to a smile and a sigh as he looks you over. “Take your hair down,” he says in a throaty voice.

You begin the task of unbraiding your hair, the wavy locks falling carelessly around your shoulders. When you are finished, he reaches up and sinks his fingers into your tresses, winding it around his fingers. “So lovely,” he says softly, marveling at its texture. You reach up with one hand and tenderly run your fingertips up and down his cheek. He smiles and turns his head to kiss the palm of your hand.

He then looks down and releases your hair, his hands coming to rest at your hips. He looks up at you and then hooks his fingers under the elastic of your panties. You raise your hips, permitting him to remove the last of your clothing. You sit back, naked before him and twirling a lock of hair in your fingers. He looks down at your sex and licks his lips, and his hands creep up your stomach and find your breasts again. You moan and lean your head back as he caresses you slowly.

Then he leans forward and places a hungry kiss on your neck, groaning as you shudder when he rubs his thumbs over your taught nipples. You clutch at his ponytail as his lips run down your chest. You raise your head and watch as your nipple disappears into his mouth. Your back arches sharply at the wet suction. “Mmmmm….” you sigh, dropping your head back again as his tongue teases your nipple, his fingers torturing its twin.

His fingernails gently trace the curve of your stomach and hips as his mouth moves to your other breast. His hands swivel on your hips and his thumbs slide through your wetness. You arch your back farther and moan loudly, feeling his body shake against yours. He licks at your breast one last time before rising to find your eyes. He stares at you for several moments and then circles his thumb around your bundle of nerves. You moan again, and an almost-pained look covers his face as he gasps.

“Wha-- What is it?” you whisper. You look down nervously. “Did…did I kick you or something?” you ask with a sheepish grin.

He smiles and places his forehead against yours, shaking his head. “No. You…. You project your desire quite effectively,” he says.

“I´m sorry,” you say in half-delirium.

He chuckles softly. “It is nothing to apologize for.” He kisses you intently and presses his thumb into your wetness again….a little harder than is comfortable for you, and you jerk your hips back slightly. “Oh….” he sighs. “I´m sorry,” he whispers against your lips. “You´re so tender…so soft…. So…I´ll do it soft…so soft,” he whispers. “Like this,” he sighs again. You gasp as his thumb barely makes contact, leisurely circling your clit. Your mouth drops open, and your lungs release a high-pitched sigh. “And slow…like this….” His thumb makes slower, longer strokes around your clit and through your wet folds.

“Oh God,” you sigh closing your eyes and leaning your head limply against his. You had spent a great amount of time imagining his skill as a lover, but never could your daydreams compare to this…and never have you known a man who so completely understood how to touch you.

He kisses your lips sweetly before pulling away from you and kneeling down. Your eyelids pop open as his touch ceases. You look down to see him staring up at you, his hands resting on the insides of your thighs. He presses your legs open, and you shudder again as his head moves between them. His eyes command yours to look at him as he places a kiss against your curls…and another…and another. He backs off slightly and looks up. His gaze never leaves your eyes as his tongue extends, and he slowly licks your engorged flesh. You cry out as you watch and feel his hot, wet tongue tease and arouse you further.

Unable to hold your head up, it flops back against the couch as your body writhes with each caress of his tongue. His licks you with the same careful rhythm as his touch, moaning in response to your whimpers and sighs. You spread your legs farther apart and find the strength to lift your head again to watch him taste the desire that pours out of you. You press your hips forward as his tongue darts along your clit a little faster. You reach out to the side and grab the couch, pushing your whole body forward and digging your fingers into the cushion. You bring your heels off the floor and grind them into the edge of the couch. Your posture is desperate as you stretch your thigh muscles as far as you can.

His tongue is unrelenting, the pleasure building and building to the point of needing release. You suddenly grab his shoulder and push him away, breathing heavily and carelessly pressing your forehead to his as he looks up for an explanation. “Do you not wish to go higher?” he asks with some confusion.

You laugh at the formal tone of his question. “You´re good for plenty,” you say through your quick breaths. “I´m….well….not…. And it´s….it´s been a while. I don´t want this to be over yet.”

He rises and pushes you back. Hovering above you with a leer he says, “You have certain theories about Jedi and their…their skills. Allow me to prove those for you.”

You feel his finger slide around your clit, and you jerk your hips. Then you shudder a gasp as his finger slides inside you, followed by another. He pumps his fingers slowly in and out…and then slides them back in again, rubbing around inside you until a shot of pleasure shakes your body. Satisfied, his fingers slide back out of you. “You see,” he purrs with a grin. “You´re at least good for a second round...but I like to set higher goals than that.”

“I feel outmatched,” you whisper.

The grin dissipates as his face softens. “No,” he says gently. “I am just trying not to lose my head.”

“Why?” you ask.

He looks down and then back to your eyes. “You wish for me to be in control…to be strong….”

You smile. “You have my surrender, Jedi Man. Now lose your head.”

He inhales a sharp gasp and quickly descends, his tongue finding your bundle of nerves again. He moans against your sensitive flesh, the rumble reaching up inside you. He pushes one of your legs wide and pulls the other one over his shoulder.

Your body goes limp, and you whimper and whine as your pleasure builds. “Ooohh….feels so good….unnnggghh…so good….” Your head tosses restlessly from side to side, your hips keeping rhythm with his tongue. Your muscles begin to tighten with that familiar, delicious sensation – one that you haven´t properly felt for a long time.

He groans in response to your approaching climax, and his attention narrows down to just your swollen, eager nub, his tongue pulling it up to the highest possible point.

You feel yourself begin to float, the distant contractions beginning. You sob a moan as his tongue instantly matches the tempo. Every muscle in your body tenses as you anticipate what happens next…but it doesn´t. You stay there in that place you have only felt momentarily up until now….on the edge. So close….God, so close….

::Relax::

You twitch at the voice in your head. His voice.

::Feel it….enjoy it….::

Despite your best effort, you claw at the sofa cushions, desperate for release but bathing in the unspeakable pleasure he is affording you….hanging on the edge, sinking into it, writhing through it. Your breathing is shallow, and your body begins to tremble. The pleasure builds to an unbearable state, and you gasp, “O-Obi…Wan…. Please, please, please….I can´t—“ your words disappear into a loud cry as he releases his hold on your orgasm, and you come in long, hard waves, his tongue expertly moving up your center with each crest and thrust of your hips, his moans responding to your body´s fluid motion as you ride each glorious wave.

Your hips crash back down onto the couch, your mind and body buzzing, completely electric. Before you can fully open your eyes, his mouth is on yours, fierce and hungry. You whimper as he kisses you with a low growl in his throat. He pulls back and touches your face with a trembling hand, your own head fighting to remain still. He pushes wild strands of hair off your face, your skin and his glistening with sweat.

The shock from what he has done to you eventually wears off enough to allow you to form words again. You bite your lip and smile, saying, “Play fair.”

“What?” he asks with a silly expression, examining your eyes.

“Get naked with me,” you drawl, your voice delightfully low and sexy. You lick your lips and speak the words that you are safe to say under this lover´s spell, “Fuck me, Obi-Wan.”

His face shudders at your command, his desire seeping out of him and into you, an intensity of lust and emotion surging between his body and yours that allows for anything and everything without remorse or shame. He kisses your mouth, your cheek, and then sucks at your earlobe. “Oh gods…” he sighs. He nibbles at the skin under your ear. “You are a bad little girl, aren´t you,” he growls.

You give him a soft, devious chuckle in response, his words igniting a spark inside you again.

You feel him smile against your neck. “I knew it all along,” he says. His head rises, and he pokes his nose against yours. “And you have completely bewitched me.” He kisses your lips and then prods them with his finger. “Now,” he says, “perhaps we should go back to your room.”

You shake your head and grin. “You forget where you are,” you say with a tease.

“What do you mean?”

“Honey,” you say with attitude, “this is the JH Temple, remember?” His expression still blank, you continue. “Do you really think we´d have just a plain old room with just a couch and a couple of bookcases?”

“Umm….”

“Push that button,” you say pointing toward the opposite wall.

He looks over his shoulder and then slowly gets up and walks to the wall, holding his finger over the small, discreet button the size of a doorbell.

“Go on,” you say with a mischievous grin.

He pushes it and suddenly the far wall slides open revealing a bed adorned with colorful sheets, blankets, and pillows.

“We call it the Study-and-Pounce Room,” you chuckle. “Girl´s gotta have a few tricks up her sleeve, you know.”

“Yes,” he says, “which makes it all the more difficult when you aren´t wearing any clothes.” He begins to stalk back toward you.

“Speaking of not wearing any clothes….”

He smiles and sits down next to you, bending down to remove his boots. Then he stands and slowly unfastens his pants and leisurely slides them over his hips, revealing another impressive erection. He then quickly pushes them off as you seductively bite your finger and play with your hair again. He kicks his pants aside and falls to his knees, immediately claiming your mouth in a fiery kiss. You sigh as his tongue slides along yours, and your wrap your legs around his waist. He pushes forward, pressing his hard cock into your still eager body, the heat rising furiously between you.

His arms slide under your back and suddenly you are lifted effortlessly off the couch. Before you have a chance to register that you are being moved, he carefully lays you on the bed. You release him from your legs and scoot up the mattress, swiftly tossing pillows and the bulky blankets and comforter out of your way.

He crawls up the length of your body and descends to kiss you again, your legs entwining and your hands demanding each other´s heightened arousal. His head recedes, and his mouth lands on your breast, suckling tenderly as you arch high off the mattress, stretching your arms above your head. His hands squeeze at your hips, and you wrap your legs around his waist again, pulling him closer and feeling his cock bob against your entrance.

He moans and brings his head up, whispering against your cheek, “I need you.”

“Please,” you whisper back. “Now.” Your hunger for him to fill you is immeasurable, and you slide your legs off him and spread them wide on the bed.

He sighs and holds your face in his hand, looking deep into your eyes. And then he slides into you slowly, both of you gasping at the moment of entrance. You let out a stuttered moan as he stretches you. It´s been so long…too long….

“Am I….hurting you,” he asks in a tremulous voice.

“Oh no,” you whisper shaking your head. “Ooh, Obi-Wan, please….”

He groans and closes his eyes as he buries himself completely in your tight, wet sheath. He holds still for a moment, breathing heavily against your neck as his head drops down. Then - so very slowly - he begins to move, sliding out and back in…halting for a moment and then continuing the languid rhythm. He wheezes a breath and then stutters, “You…you´re so…so tight….”

You turn your head and nibble at his ear, causing another moan to spill out his lips. You bend your knees and begin to rock your hips with him, grabbing at the small of his back as he pushes up on his arms, arching above you. As your body responds to his motion, his cock slides over and around that electric point inside you, and you cry out and throw your head back. You marvel at his beauty as you watch his tight body float and sway above you, his face awash in pleasure and his braid tickling across your breasts and chest. You run your hands up the well-formed muscles of his torso, taking extra care to tease his firm nipples with your fingers.

His hips begin to circle as he dives deeper into you, never losing contact with that pleasure point inside you. He descends onto his elbows and tangles his fingers in your hair. “Oooohhh baby….” he sighs into your mouth as his hips start to move faster. “You feel so good.”

You whimper as he kisses you and then lightly teases your lips with his tongue, encouraging your tongue out of your mouth, the tips winding around each other, your lips barely touching. He starts to groan low in his chest as your hips grind together, your body beginning to tighten around him. “Yessss….tighter…..nnnnnggghhh….”

Unintelligible mutterings escape from you as you feel the rise again…the tension…the craving…. He shifts his hips forward slightly, and his cock mercilessly stokes the fire burning all around that spot inside you. “Aaaahhh…right there…right there,” you whine.

True to his calling to serve, he holds his position, rocking you steady, thrusting deeper and hotter, a groan punctuating every plunge into your wetness, the sound of it slick and sensual.

Suddenly, the heat snaps and you cry out again as your muscles spasm around his cock, the intense pleasure reverberating throughout your body as you buck against him, his hips increasing in speed to your climax. A moment later, he shouts and you feel him erupt inside you, his body shuddering as he repeatedly thrusts his orgasm into you, his mouth dropping open and his eyes shutting as he goes inward to experience the wonder of it.

He finally collapses, and you wind your arms and legs around his still trembling body, his face buried in your neck. You lay like that for some time, embraced and joined in silence, aside from heavy breaths and whimpers. He then raises his head and looks into your eyes, lightly caressing your cheek. He kisses you slowly and tenderly until you are nearly unconscious. He smiles at your drooping eyelids and complete inability to speak. He rolls off you and reaches for the covers at the end of the bed, bringing them up over you. He lies at your side, pulling your body in close and nuzzling your hair. You rest your arm on his as it circles your waist and burrow into him as he brings his knees under yours. You sigh contentedly and drift off to sleep in the arms of your sweet knight, having finally found the place where you belong.

Part 26

Your body shifts slightly, and you feel a soft blanket being wrapped around you. The action is fuzzy, and your eyelids are not about to be convinced to open.

You have the vaguest sensation of being lifted, your hair swinging slightly, indicating movement. The arms that hold you are solid and unwavering. Your throat makes the softest noise.

“Shhh.”

The sound is soft and comforting, and your head snuggles against the lull of a steady heartbeat. You begin to drift…. And then you feel a change in motion again, your body lowering and gently settling on a soft surface, the weight of bedcovers being pulled over you. You sigh as you sink into slumber.

Your body twitches as light suddenly assaults you. Your try to raise a hand to cover your face, but find your arms trapped. You roll your face into the pillow and make a pathetic whining noise.

“Damn,” you hear a whisper as the light suddenly fades. “I´m sorry, I tried not to wake you.”

“Can´t Jedi´s see in the dark?” you respond, your words muffled by the pillow.

The mattress sinks next to you, and you feel fingers through your hair. “Do you mind if I use your shower?”

“Sure, go ahead,” you say, your face still buried. “What time is it?”

“Early,” he says. “Go back to sleep. I…. I have to leave for a few days. I´m sorry. I should have told you last night.”

“No you shouldn´t,” you say.

“I just don´t want you to think that last night…. I mean, the fact that I´m darting out before dawn doesn´t mean that—“

“I thought you told me to go back to sleep,” you mumble.

You can hear the smile break across his face. “I wouldn´t leave you like this. I would stay with you if I could.” His fingers gently massage your head.

“I know,” you say. “I understand.”

He leans in and kisses the back of your head. “Last night was wonderful.” He strokes your hair. “I´ll never forget it.”

“You´d better not,” you say into the pillow.

He chuckles and musses your hair, saying, “Go back to sleep, you.”

“Mmm-hmm,” you sigh. You feel the mattress shift again and hear the bathroom door shut. The water in the shower turns on, the sound of it lulling you back to sleep.

Suddenly your head shoots off the pillow as the realization hits you that there is a naked Obi-Wan in your shower. Not just a naked Obi-Wan, but a wet and slippery one at that. Your roll around on the bed trying to free yourself from your blanket cocoon. You finally get one arm free and throw the other covers off your body. You wriggle around some more to shake the blanket loose and then kick free, tossing the blanket to the floor.

You scramble off the bed, but then stop when you hear the water shut off and the shower curtain slide open. “Shit,” you say, stomping your foot on the floor and bemoaning Obi-Wan´s lack of appreciation for long showers. You shiver when you realize how cold it is, and you dive back under the covers, trying to find the warmest spot.

A moment later, the bathroom door opens. You smile as the mattress sinks down again. “You just missed out big time, buddy,” you say as you roll onto your back.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you need to learn to take longer showers. I was this close to ambushing you when you turned the water off,” you say.

“Hmmm…. I wonder how I could make that up to you,” he grins and then pulls himself higher up the mattress to kiss you.

“Mmmmhhh,” is your only response as his mouth takes yours. God, can he kiss…his lips sliding and teasing with perfect pressure.

“Care to join me under the covers?” you ask, licking at his lip.

He sighs. “I…. I want to…really….but….”

“You have to go,” you say.

“Yes.” He sighs again. “I´m so sorry.” He kisses you again and then says, “It´s only for a few days.” He begins to back away.

You sit up, holding the covers close to your shoulders for warmth. “That´s alright. What´s a few more days of sexual frustration in my life, right?”

His eyes narrow. “Well, we can´t have that, now can we?” he purrs, crawling back to you and kissing your harder, deeper, his tongue plundering your mouth as you whimper and fall back to the mattress, taking him with you. Suddenly, he stops and slides to the side of the bed. He stands up and throws the covers off you, and dives back down again. His skin is warm and clean, and you press your body into him as his lips assault your neck. He works his way down to your breasts, kissing and licking them in earnest. You grab onto the back of his head and arch your back, feeling his hard erection against your thigh.

You give him a slight push. He takes the cue and rolls onto his back, pulling you on top of him. His fingers slide into your hair, holding it back as you demand more kisses from him. You spread your legs and feel his arousal poking at your wetness. You slide your hips up and down, causing him to groan a little. You are nearly oblivious now to the cold air as your body quickly heats up, one of his hands still grabbing your hair and the other rubbing your back and hip.

You scoot your body down and spread your legs a little farther. With a push down, his hard cock slides inside you, moans circling through the air, your arms and legs suddenly very shaky. You rock back and forth on your hands and knees, gripping him tightly inside you as his head raises up, capturing your breast in his mouth. You bend your head back as he suckles you, arching your back to push your breasts closer to him.

Finally you rise up, your torso straight in the air, and slide up and down the length of his shaft….up and down…up and down. You feel his thighs against your back as he bends his knees, planting his feet on the mattress and pushing up into you as his hips rise off the mattress. His hands creep up your stomach to your breasts. You lean forward into his hands as they cup you and caress you, your own hands covering his to encourage his attentions. One of his hands then reaches up to cradle your cheek, and you lean your head to the side into his palm and wrap your fingers around his forearm as you continue to slowly rise and fall above him, his cock growing larger and larger inside you as your desire swirls and slips around him.

As his hands slide down your front, you lean back and bend your head all the way back, your hair tickling his knees. His hips thrust up a little higher and a little faster as you tighten around him, pulling at him and coaxing pretty noises from him. “Ooohh…. Ooohh…. Ooohh….” he moans with each thrust into you. You slide your fingers through your hair and grip it back away from your face as you shift your head forward to look down at him. His chest is heaving. His face is enraptured…vulnerable…beautiful. Your mouth drops open and you begin to whimper, quietly at first. Your vocalization grows louder as he wraps his hands around your hips and begins pulling you down on his shaft as his hips push up, his pelvis moving in fluid circles, his cock rubbing and rubbing against that hungry spot inside you.

You let go of your hair and reach behind you to dig your fingers into the tight muscles of his thighs and ride him as he guides your body until you pick up his motion and his rhythm. Then his hand slides down and his thumb strokes across your clit, sliding back and forth in time with your movements. Your body shudders at his touch, and you begin to moan as the sweet pressure builds inside and outside.

You reflexively squeeze his thighs as your pleasure increases. “Ooohh…God…” you sigh, your voice shaky. You spread your legs wider, pressing yourself into his caressing thumb and taking him deeper into you.

“Yesss….” he hisses. “Come for me…” he commands in a hoarse whisper. “Come….ooohh…baby…please….” His thumb strokes you faster. “I need….nnnngghh….”

You jerk your hips forward as your clit begins to pulse. You whine and then cry out his name as your orgasm takes you hard. His hips buck higher off the bed as he thrusts his cock deeper and faster into you, your body lurching above him and squeezing him hard. As you ride each wave, you hear his awestruck voice repeating your name over and over as he watches and feels you come…then he releases a yelp of gratitude, and you feel his orgasm fill you…hot and wet as it erupts and mixes with your own.

You feel dizzy bobbing up and down in mid-air, and you slump down onto his chest, breathing heavy and pressing your face against his firm chest. His arms embrace you tightly, his fingers playing with your hair. He sighs and slides out of you, then pulling you up and rolling you onto your back and propping himself up on his elbows above you.

His eyes examine your face for a moment. “You are making it very difficult for me to leave,” he says softly, lightly kissing your lips and your cheeks.

You smile. “I guess you´re gonna need another shower.”

He shakes his head no and takes your lips in a sweet, slow kiss. His lips then descend to your ear, and he whispers, “I don´t want to leave you.”

“I know,” you say.

“I´m sorry.”

“It´s alright.”

His head rises and he places his forehead against yours, gently stroking your face with his fingers. “I must go.”

You nod and kiss him. “Go. I don´t want you to be late.”

He sighs and reluctantly crawls off the bed, tucking you in before he reaches for his clothes. You watch him as he gets dressed, mindlessly playing with your hair. He puts on his trousers and boots, and you smile as he carefully tucks in his shirt.

“What?” he asks, catching your expression.

“Nothing,” you say with a slight giggle.

He gives you a sideways glance and walks over to the bed, sitting at your side. He leans down to kiss you goodbye. You hold his lips to yours for several moments until he hesitantly pulls away. He grabs your hand and kisses it while you play with your hair again with your other hand.

“Stop teasing me,” he says. “I´ll miss my ship.”

You wrinkle your face at him. “What am I doing?”

“Sprawled out on your bed,” he lifts the covers and playfully peeks under, “nude,” he smiles at your laughter, “playing with your hair and giving me that coy little smile.”

You laugh again and swat at his arm. “Oh please.”

He leans down and kisses you again. “You are a temptress,” he says against your lips. “I never would have known it seeing you in your flannel pajamas…although I always was intrigued about what you were hiding under those.”

“Stop,” you cry with laughter.

He grins, “I am going to require an extreme amount of discipline to keep my mind on my duties for the next few days. Are you sure they didn´t send you just to test me?”

“No, I just have to make sure that you don´t pull a Captain Kirk on me and start jonesing after blue chicks while your away,” you say.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “I am hoping for a day when everything you say makes sense to me.”

“Good luck,” you say.

He smiles and kisses your hand again and then your lips one more time. “I will see you in a few days.”

You nod. “Be safe.”

“Of course,” he says, standing up and holding onto your hand a moment longer before releasing it. He grabs his belt and fastens it around his waist. He looks back at you and you roll to your side, watching him with a smile. He puts his hand to his head and smiles back. “Don´t do that to me.”

“Do what?”

“Slink around like that,” he says.

“I´m not slinking. I´m just getting comfortable,” you say defensively.

“You are slinking….the way your hips shifted and your shoulders….” he shakes his head. “I´m leaving. I´m really leaving.”

You laugh and wave your hand at him. “Go. Get outta here, silly boy.” Then you add quickly, “I am not slinking.”

He smiles at you over his shoulder and then opens the door and exits, closing the door behind him. “You are slinking,” he says through the door and then walks away.

You chuckle and grab the pillow behind you, holding it close and pressing your face into it to inhale his lingering scent. Your happy body stretches and sighs. Then you settle in and set your mind to keeping him in your dreams until he returns.

Chapter 27

“No. No way.”

“Please!!”

“Absolutely not.”

“What good is Santa without a helper?”

“Kim….” You sigh. “Why can´t you be the helper?”

“Cuz I have to take the pictures,” she says, waving her camera at you over the cubicle wall.

“Why can´t I take the pictures,” you ask.

“Because,” Kim says.

“Because why?”

“Because.”

“Oh, I see. Makes perfect sense,” you say.

Kim stands up and puts her hands on her hips. “Listen, do you know how long it took me to convince Mace to do this? It took a lot of hard work on my part.”

You snort. “Yeah, I´ll bet it did.”

She scowls at you. “The least you could do is be the helper.”

“But I don´t want to be an elf!”

Kim shakes her head. “You won´t be an elf. You´ll be a helper. And it´s only for a little while. You don´t have to be the helper during the entire party. Just when Santa passes out presents.”

You drop your head to your hands, knowing you´re going to regret this. “Oh, all right.”

“Woo-hoo!” Kim high-fives herself and runs toward the coat closet. “I have your costume right here.”

“Costume? Hold on, I thought you said I wouldn´t have to be an elf,” you say.

“You´re not.” Kim grabs a suit bag from the closet and pulls out a red Santa jacket.

You smile in spite of yourself. “So where are the pants?”

“No pants,” Kim says. “This is it.”

Smile disappearing, you say, “Hold on. No pants?”

“Mm-mm,” Kim responds shaking her head. “C´mon this is the JH holiday party. You´re smutty Santa helper.”

“But….it…. It might be kinda drafty,” you say.

Kim holds the jacket…more like a dress….up to you. “Nah,” she says. “It´s plenty long enough.” Then she gets a wicked a grin. “Besides, you wanted to teach Obi all about Christmas tradition…. What could be better than sex under the mistletoe?”

“Stop,” you whine and grab the costume from her. “You´re going straight to Hell, you know that?”

Kim shakes her head. “Nope. I´m going to Heaven. I will live in a big mansion and be surrounded by Jedi cabana boys.”

You chuckle. “That´s nifty cuz I´m going to live in a big mansion, too. Next door to Elvis, of course. I´ll make sure you´re invited to the barbecues.”

“Thankyuhvuhrymuch,” Kim says.

You laugh and re-examine your costume. “So what about the boots?”

Kim shrugs her shoulders. “I dunno. I´m sure you´ll figure it out. Check the smut closet.”

“Good idea,” you say. “So tell me, how did you get Mace to agree to do this? I mean, he gets loose at our parties, but he still has that Jedi Master decorum when it comes to his appearance. I just can´t see him agreeing to wear a Santa suit.”

“I told him all the girls would sit on his lap,” she says.

“Aaahhhh. Well, I don´t think I´ll be doing any sitting in this getup,” you say.

“Unless it´s on the paddlewan,” Kim says.

“Hmmm…. If he even shows up for the party,” you say.

“When´s he due back,” Kim asks.

“He was only supposed to be gone for a few days,” you say. “It´s been exactly six.”

“But who´s counting,” Kim says.

“Right,” you say. Then you sigh and continue, “But that´s the way it goes.”

“So did you get him a Christmas present?” Kim asks.

“Nah,” you say. “I mean, he´s a Jedi. They don´t celebrate Christmas, they don´t even know what it is, really….not that they´ll turn down the opportunity to join our celebration, but…. Well, you know.”

“Yeah,” Kim says.

“And I don´t want to make him feel weird by giving him a present cuz then he´ll feel like he has to get me something,” you say.

“Gift guilt,” Kim says.

“Exactly.”

“And the last thing you want is a last-minute frozen fruitcake,” Kim says.

“Eww,” you say. “Speaking of holiday edibles – although that one is questionable – I gotta get baking here. I signed up to make cookies for the party.”

“Mmmm…. Whatcha makin´?”

“I thought I´d try to make those little twisty candy cane cookie things. And then I´m going to attempt some fudge,” you say.

“Well, if you need a taste tester, I´m your girl,” Kim says. “You just holler, and I´ll come running.”

“Deal,” you say, grabbing your costume and heading up the stairs.

The following afternoon you stand in the smut closet, staring at your reflection. The Santa “jacket” is cut very wide at the collar so the curves of your shoulders peek out from the white, furry lining. You had to hunt around for that one strapless bra you own that you´ve only worn once before but saved for an occasion such as this. Well, you didn´t actually envision this specific scenario, but you were well pleased with yourself when you found it.

You turn in front of the mirror to check for the hundredth time that the white furry hemline of the costume sufficiently covers your ass. You practice bending at your knees to make sure it doesn´t ride up too high.

“What are you doing?”

You turn to see Kim giving you an odd look as you watch your butt in the mirror as you move up and down. “Gift rehearsal,” you say.

“Huh?”

“Well, if I have to hand Santa all the gifts, I have to make sure no one can see my underwear,” you say.

Kim swats a hand at you. “It´s fine. Besides it´ll give ‘em a cheap thrill.” She looks down at your bare feet. “What about the boots?”

“I was just getting to that,” you say, looking around the closet.

“Here, try these,” Kim says, handing you a pair of black leather boots.

You pull them on and examine yourself in the mirror. They have a platform heel and completely cover your knees. “I look like a KISS groupie,” you say.

Kim laughs. “We could paint a star over your eye if you want.”

You plunk your butt to the floor and pull the boots off. “I don´t think so.” You toss them aside and say, “This is Christmas. It has to be a little sweeter.” Then your eye lands on a pair that look almost perfect. You pull them on and stand up. The boots rise just above mid-calf, the soft leather matching well with the black belt cinching your waist.

“Look out, Nancy Sinatra,” Kim says. “Those boots are definitely made for walkin´…among other things.”

“Yes, these will work quite nicely,” you say. “I´ll just run and mess with my hair, and I´ll be set. Where´s Santa?”

“In my room,” Kim says. “Grumbling about the fat suit.”

“Good luck. I´ll see you downstairs,” you say, hurrying down the hall to your room.

You descend the stairs about twenty minutes later as partygoers begin to stream in the room. The room is more decorated than it has been before, this being the official holiday party, as opposed to all the pre-cursors of the past weeks. The entire room is strung with tiny white lights while most of the mistletoe sprigs still hold their positions on the ceiling. Tiny electric menorahs accent the windows while the large Christmas tree twinkles in the corner. The room smells of spiced cider and buttered rum, and holiday music plays in the background while the crowd marvels at the pile of presents next to the tree. All the JH sibs exchanged names, and just from the sheer volume of gifts, it is probably a good assumption that everyone overspent the 20-credit budget.

You hear a whistle behind you, and turn around to see Kayla smiling at you. “Nice legs, babe,” she says.

You laugh. “You´re not so bad yourself, sugar.”

She smiles and sighs. “So here we are, dateless.”

“But not desperate,” you say.

“That´s right,” she says. “That´s what all the chocolate is for.”

“Yep,” you say. The two of you stand side by side and examine the room.

“Well,” Kayla says. “I want presents. Where´s Santa?”

You smile. “I think Kim is trying to coax him out. I don´t think he understood that he needed to be fat for this.”

Kayla laughs. “Well, I´d better go check. See you later.”

“Sure,” you say as she walks away. You wander around the room a little, trying to avoid the mistletoe and the hopeful looking men who stand beneath it. Suddenly you stop when you hear the sound of bells coming from the doorway. You turn and break into laughter as Santa Claus arrives with Kim pulling an arm and Kayla pushing his back. Kim turns on her heel and gives him a look.

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Santa immediately shouts. The crowd applauds his arrival. Mace, seeing how popular he is, begins to get into the act a little more, and Kim starts snapping away with her camera. Kim motions you over, and you hurry forward to lead Santa to his throne. Mace sits in the large chair and then pulls you into his lap. “Santa needs to practice with his helper first,” he says with a big grin. You tug on the costume to keep yourself covered as Mace wraps his arms around your waist. “So,” he says, “each lovely lady simply sits in my lap like this?”

“Yes, Santa,” you say, nodding your head.

Mace clears his throat and says, “Have you been a good little girl this year?”

You grin and say, “Of course!” You hear a few snickers from the crowd and without looking away from Mace you say, “No comments from the peanut gallery!”

Mace laughs and then looks up at the ceiling. “And it would appear that Santa´s throne is right under the mistletoe.” The crowd catcalls and whistles while Mace gives you a big grin. “You know what that means,” Mace says. Suddenly a Hershey´s Kiss comes flying out of nowhere and hits Mace on the cheek. You both look over to see Kim raising an eyebrow at Mace.

“There´s your kiss, Naughty Santa,” she says.

“Aawww,” Mace says.

You lean in and quickly give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Now, that´s more like it,” he says with a smile. His eyes focus toward the other side of the room and he says, “Uh-oh, you´d better get up now before Santa gets his butt kicked.” Mace´s strong hands lift you straight up, and you stand to your feet. Somewhat confused, you look in the direction of his gaze and see Qui-Gon´s smiling face. You eyes shift to the right, and there stands Obi-Wan with a very amused expression on his face.

You really, really try to hide a goofy grin at finally seeing him again. Your spirit lifts with relief, and you laugh a little as you proceed to attack the pile of gifts under the tree.

After about thirty minutes, Santa announces break time. With a slight rush of adrenaline you make your way toward Obi-Wan as the crowd begins to mingle. He begins walking toward you as well.

“Hi,” you say with a smile as you finally meet.

“Hello,” he says, taking your hand and lightly kissing your fingers. “You are a sight.”

“Yeah…well…Kim talked me into it,” you say.

“Remind me to thank her,” he says, still holding your hand. He lifts his other hand to gently touch your face.

His touch makes you shiver, as does the buzz of energy that surrounds you. You step forward and wrap your arms around him, breathing deeply of his scent.

He pulls you in close, and you revel in his warmth. “I missed you,” he says, lightly kissing your cheek.

You step back and say, “I missed you, too.” There is a moment of awkwardness between you, as the crowded room doesn´t really allow for any further displays. But he surprises you by leaning forward and placing a very light kiss on your lips.

Obi-Wan smiles and says, “I think you´re on again.”

You turn to look over your shoulder and see Santa settling back down in his chair. “Yeah,” you say, turning back to Obi-Wan. “Sorry.”

“Quite alright,” he says. “Besides, I like watching you bend down in this little….dress.”

You wrap his braid around your hand. “Don´t make me hurt you,” you say.

He smirks. “Don´t make me seek torturous vengeance with it,” he says, freeing his braid from your grasp and tickling your nose with the end of it.

You raise an eyebrow and purr, “Sounds like fun.” You turn quickly and saunter away, using your own FM boots to strut and swing your hips. You giggle as you hear him nervously clear his throat behind you.

You are as surprised as Santa is with the amount of work this gift distribution is taking. But you do your best to bend demurely when you pick up each present – with a little slink thrown in for good measure – to make sure Obi-Wan enjoys the show. After another thirty minutes, Santa calls for a longer break to stretch his legs. You step away from the tree, and almost immediately Obi-Wan is upon you, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you across the floor.

“We need to talk,” he says abruptly.

“What´s going on,” you say, slightly annoyed at his sudden lack of manners as he continues to drag you across the room.

“In private,” he says quickly. He leads you out of the room and then down the hall.

“Geez, where´s the fire,” you say as you stumble behind him. “Um,” you say as he reaches for the doorknob of the storage closet. “That´s not a room….”

He opens the door and shoves you inside, closing the door quickly behind him and shoving you against the wall.

“What the—Mmmhhh….” Your words are cut off as his lips find yours in the murky darkness, the light from the hallway filtering in to make the closet somewhat visible with the light off. He kisses you softly at first, but it quickly grows to hungry desperation as he groans when your tongue finds his. You hear his robe and his belt hit the floor, and he presses his body into yours as he claims your mouth with his. You raise your knee, and his hand descends to caress your bare thigh as he circles his hips into you, his arousal very evident through his trousers and the thin fabric of your underwear.

“Gods, I´ve missed you,” he says, tasting the soft skin of your neck. You whimper as his mouth continues across your bare shoulder, your whole body beginning to tremble with rampant need.

“I know,” you whisper, pulling his head back up to kiss him again and running your hand down his front to find his eager bulge. He groans into your mouth as you slowly rub him there, cupping your hand to tease him through his pants.

He quickly follows suit, running his hand up your thigh and stomach. But he does you one better and slips his fingers underneath the elastic of your underwear and slides them down your center, caressing every spot that´s been starving for him. You moan and raise your hands to grasp at his shoulders as his fingers make slippery circles around your clit, your hips following his motion.

“Ooohh,” he sighs against your neck. “You´re so wet.” He gently nibbles at your ear and rubs his clothed erection against your hip.

“Oh God…” you whimper. “…feels so good….” You circle your hips forward, pressing into his delicious touch…and making sure to rub into his arousal as well. He lets out a stuttered moan as he bends down and nuzzles his face against your chest, pushing the fabric of your outfit a little farther open. You cry out as his teeth push the cup of your bra down and his tongue snakes around your nipple. He spends several moments licking your nipple into almost-painful arousal as you quietly moan into his hair.

He raises his head, the tiny sliver of light peeking though the doorframe illuminating his eyes. He stops moving his fingers against you as he kisses you tenderly, then deeper and deeper. He just holds his fingers there against your pulsing, wet mound as his tongue enters your mouth gently, slipping and sliding around yours. You try to move your hips against his hand to encourage him to continue his caress. Then one, long finger begins to slide against you again, and you lose the ability to concentrate on the kiss. Your mouth falls open and you moan as his finger concentrates carefully on your swollen nub.

“Slowly…” he whispers against your lips, his breath catching with each noise you make. “….and softly….”

“Yessss,” you sigh as the heat builds between your legs. You groan quietly, knowing that not much separates you from the outside world in the hallway, as his finger slides across your trigger point. “Oohh,” you squeak, leaning your head back against the wall and moving your hips more intently to his increasing rhythm.

He sighs against your cheek. “My angel,” he coos.

“Obi-Wan,” you whine as you teeter on the edge, your hips pressing forward as far as they can.

“Oooohh…so beautiful,” he sighs. He pulls his finger up one more time, releasing sweet fire through your body. You swallow your moan as you come, lurching your body between him and the wall as his fingers coax the orgasm out of you. He plants his mouth on yours to swallow the other moans that spill out of you as you continue to spasm against him.

You finally slump against him, your body shaking as he holds you up while he mindlessly continues to rub his groin against you. Finally getting your wits about you, you stand firmly on your feet and unfasten his pants.

“Wait,” he says. “You have to get back—“

“Quiet,” you say softly.

“But—“ He groans suddenly as your hand sneaks underneath his pants to take hold of his erection. You push his pants down with your other hand. His body shudders as you begin to run your gentle grip up and down his shaft, the erotic sound of skin rubbing skin, and the liquid sex inside him, fills your ears.

He released a staggered breath against your temple as one of his hands reflexively squeezes your shoulder and the other braces his weight against the wall. “We should….finish this….later,” he says through heavy breaths.

“Why?” you ask, pressing your body into him, stroking his cock at your hip, the soft fabric of your costume rubbing against his sensitive skin.

“I….mmmmhhh….” His head shakes against yours as he tries to form coherent speech. “…don´t want….to….” His eyes squeeze shut and he finally is able to blurt out, “make a mess on you….”

You pull his head down and tease his lips with your tongue. “Well then,” you purr, “I know just the thing.” You swiftly drop to your knees and suck his enlarged cock into your mouth. You thrill at his groan and the curse he mutters under his breath as you push the flaps of his tunic aside and rub your tongue firmly against him as you suck his shaft to the back of your throat.

His body shudders as he slides in and out of your mouth, your fingers stroking at his base where your lips can´t reach. Strangled moans repeatedly escape his lungs as his fingers tangle in your hair. “I can´t…..hold it….if you don´t want to….” he stutters.

You chuckle lightly at his sweet warning but only suck him harder, unwilling to deny him any pleasure. You hear a low, rumbling growl that crescendos to a muffled whine as liquid heat shoots to the back of your throat. As you try to quickly drink him down, your lips loosen and his cock slides out of your mouth. You feel his searing orgasm cascade to your neck and chest as you continue to stroke him with your hand. He gives one last grunt as the last, hot pulse showers your cool skin.

He pants as he helps you to your feet. “You nearly rendered me unconscious,” he says. Suddenly his belt flies up and into his hand. He reaches into a pouch and pulls out a small cloth. Unfolding it, he gently cleans off your neck and chest. Even in the filtered light of the closet, you can see his cheeks blush. “I´m…I´m sorry about this.” His voice is rather nervous and shaky.

“I always wanted a pearl necklace for Christmas,” you purr.

His eyes flap wide open in shock at your statement. You laugh and stretch your body up to kiss him. You slowly release his lips, and he stutters, “Y-you didn´t….mind….about the mess….”

You smile and shake your head. “It´s not a mess. It´s you.” You kiss him and sigh, “And I want you in me, on me, anyway I can get you. Besides….I made a mess, as you call it, on you.”

His eyes shift from side to side. “But that´s different.”

You swat at him. “Silly Jedi.”

He smiles and says, “I suppose I need to release you now before Santa comes looking for you.” He flips on the closet light, and you squint your eyes as he says, “But not like that.”

You look down at your costume hanging mostly open. You unfasten the belt and straighten yourself out, pulling the sleeves back up and making sure your bra is sufficiently hidden. Obi-Wan gently pushes stray tresses behind your ears and tries to hook a few over the pins in your hair. “Ah, good enough,” you say. “I don´t have makeup smeared all over my face do I?”

“No,” he says, reaching down to pick up his robe. He shakes it out a bit and puts it on.

“Turn around,” you say, examining him. “Oh crap,” you say.

“What?”

“There was something dirty down here,” you say.

“Yes, so there was,” he purrs.

“No,” you laugh. “On the floor.” You begin to swat the dust, or whatever it is, off his robe.

“Do that again,” he says as your cleaning efforts smack his ass.

“Later,” you chuckle. “Alright, almost good as new.” You turn and put an ear to the door. You look at him, “Anybody out there?”

“No.”

You slowly open the door and peek out. You quickly jump out of the closet into the empty hallway. As soon as the two of you take a couple steps down the hall, Kim appears at the other end.

“There you are!” she exclaims. “C´mon!”

“Sorry,” you say as you pick up your pace.

“Yeah, I´ll bet,” Kim says with a grin.

“Get your camera, dollface,” you tell her. She gives you a thumbs-up and darts back into the party room.

“You have names for everyone, don´t you?” Obi-Wan says.

“Uh…I guess so,” you say. “Don´t really think about it. They just kinda slip out. But I could think of some more for you, if you like,” you say, giving him an evil little sideways glance as you breathe in the scent of his sex as it lingers on your skin. If this were any of the other men you´ve known, perhaps you´d be a little embarrassed or self-conscious. But in this case, you make your entrance into the party room assuming the whole crowd will know what you´ve just been up to and not caring that they do.

Obi-Wan briefly slides his arm around your waist and whispers into your ear, “You are really testing the limits of my control, aren´t you?” He then releases you with an innocent look on his face.

You turn on your heel to face him, saying, “No, that happens later…after the party.” You wriggle your eyebrows at him and then continue to walk through the room. Suddenly, a sight in the corner of your eye causes you to stop and you say aloud, “Holy shit.”

Obi-Wan steps up behind you. “What is it?”

You point beyond the next table. “It´s….it´s Darry and…uh…. Wait a minute. This is so not possible.”

“What do you mean?”

You can´t believe your eyes. You march around the table just to verify what half the crowd is thinking as well. You stop in front of Darry who has the happiest grin you´ve ever seen. “Darry? What the--?”

“Oh hey! Merry Christmas,” she exclaims giving you a hug.

“Uh…. Merry…. Uh, Happy Chanukah,” you say. The man standing next to Darry finally turns to look directly at you, and you gasp. “Darry…um….” you stutter again.

“Hmmm?” she responds innocently enough, batting her eyelashes at you.

“That´s….that´s….” you say, pointing to her date.

She nods enthusiastically, “Uh-huh! Sure is!”

“Who is he?” Obi-Wan whispers. “Someone you know?”

“Uh…. Well, he´s….”

“Luke?! LUKE?!” Your mouth just hangs open as you hear Kim´s shocked, amazed, and half-crazed voice behind you. Suddenly she stands right next to you. She reaches out and touches his arm and whispers, “Oh, shit,” when she verifies that he is real.

“Oh my God!” You hear Kayla´s voice this time as the room finally falls silent. “That´s Luke Skywalker!”

“And who would he be?” you hear Qui-Gon ask.

“How the…? What the…?” you sputter again.

Darry just smiles as she leans into Luke´s body. He wraps his arm tight around her shoulder and says, “Nice party.” Then suddenly his head turns and he points toward the wall. “Hey, what´s that flashing?!”

The whole room gasps when they hear his very real voice.

Darry smacks his chest. “Christmas lights. Calm down, farm boy.”

Luke just nods and goes back to smiling and cuddling again.

“Whoa,” you say. “Darry, this is…. This is just not possible. I mean he´s…. Look, here´s Obi-Wan,” you turn and pat his face. “He´s young, see.” Then you point at Luke. “So he´s…he´s not even born—“

“Wait,” Darry says putting up a hand. “I will refer you to Tom Servo´s Guide to Quantum Mechanics. You need a broadened interpretation of quantum linear superposition. We simply observe the apparent relative state of Luke in one
place, while in actuality he coexisted in the objective vector state, you see? Why is it so hard to accept the fact that time is not an immutable forward progression, but a factor in a space-time model of relativistic causality and determinism? You just exist in one observable region in space, and then -zip- you simply realign your point of origin.”

You feel your head start to ache at her matter-of-fact explanation. You turn to look at Obi-Wan – a more astute brain, you figure – but find that his face is wrinkled as much as everyone else´s.

“You see,” Darry says with a jovial tone. “It´s that simple.”

“Oh, okay,” you say and introduce yourself to Luke. “I had the biggest crush on you when I was twelve,” you say quietly.

Luke just smiles and nods.

“Well, no fair that the kid gets to have all the fun. Do I get to join this party?”

Every woman in the room gasps and turns toward the voice coming from the doorway….and then a loud squeal erupts. You do the same, clinging to Obi-Wan´s robe and squealing, “Oh my God!!!”

“And who is this?” Obi-Wan asks, somewhat flustered.

“Han….Han….Han,” is all you can say.

“That doesn´t answer my question,” Obi-Wan says.

You don´t respond as Han comes stalking toward the group gathered around Luke. Obi-Wan wraps a possessive arm around your waist as Han stops in front of you. Han eyes you up and down with a smirk and says as only he can, “Nice dress.”

You make a girlie squeaking noise and lean heavily into Obi-Wan. You lean your head back against his shoulder and sigh, “Oh, gaawd,” as Han saunters toward the other women.

“Would you care to explain this to me?” Obi-Wan asks desperately.

“It´s…it´s Han…heh….”

“Yes, so you´ve said, but….” Obi-Wan – and the rest of the room – looks up as the ceiling begins to rattle. Suddenly a ceiling tile crashes down to the floor.

“Uh-oh…” Kim says. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

A second later a giant jelly creature hurls itself through the hole in the ceiling. In a flash, Han whips out his blaster and blasts the jelly creature into oblivion before it can even hit the floor. “I hate those thing,” he growls.

The women cheer at Han´s quick work of the invader. You grin and turn to look at Obi-Wan and the sheepish pout on his face. Then you look over at Qui-Gon whose face bears the same expression.

“Aw, don´t be jealous,” you say to Obi-Wan. “It´s just that he´s Han, you know.”

“No, I don´t know,” Obi-Wan says though tight lips. “And I´m not jealous.”

A loud growl is heard, and before he can defend himself – if, in fact, he´d actually want to – Han is pounced upon and forced to the ground.

“It´s about time Panth showed up,” Kim says.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Kayla says.

“I think he´s met his match,” you say. You turn to Obi-Wan and say, “Looks like I´d better get back to Santa duty. Mace is looking rather disgusted at having lost the spotlight.” You turn and begin to walk toward the Christmas tree.

“Wait a minute,” Obi-Wan says.

You turn to face him, but Luke steps in front of you and grabs Obi-Wan´s hand, shaking it vigorously. “Hi, I´m Luke Skywalker. I´m from Tatooine.”

“How nice for you,” Obi-Wan says, trying to shoo him aside.

“You´re a Jedi, aren´t you?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says curtly.

“I´m a Jedi, too. Or I will be…or….” Luke begins to scratch his head.

“Yes well, talk to that tall man over there,” Obi-Wan says, pointing to Qui-Gon. “He delights in local color.”

“Great!” Luke says as he steps forward, only to be thwarted as Darry pulls him back.

Obi-Wan steps up to you. “Are you going to tell me what´s going on here with these….these….these men?”

You smile and pat his cheek. “I haven´t the foggiest idea.”

“But he appeals to you?” Obi-Wan asks. “This…this pirate?” He gestures over toward Han.

Given the current state of the crowd, decorum no longer seems so important. You grab Obi-Wan´s tunic and pull him to you. You just barely touch your lips to his and say, “Have you forgotten?”

“Wh-what?”

“How I want you in me,” you whisper, lightly kissing his lips. “On me.” Another kiss. “Anyway I can get you,” you growl as you lick his lower lip. “Did you forget that?”

“Um…no,” he whispers through a staggered breath.

“Your hands on me.” You press your body into his while still keeping a firm grip on his clothing, and his hands grab onto your back. “Your mouth on me.” You graze his lips with yours and lightly touch your tongue to his. “Your tongue on me.” You pull his head down further and lightly kiss his earlobe before whispering. “Your cock coming inside me…” You bite your lip and smile as he gasps at your words. “…and on me,” you add with an evil chuckle. “Have you forgotten all that,” you say, releasing his head.

“No,” he sighs as his eyes meet yours, darkening once again with desire.

“Good,” you say in a chipper voice, letting go of his tunic and smoothing it out.

“Hey, Kenobi! Take a shower, I need some help over here,” Mace calls out rather impatiently.

You laugh and Obi-Wan blushes slightly. “He hates not being the center of attention,” he says with a little grin.

“You all do,” you say, quickly kissing his nose and turning toward Mace. “Alright, Santa, let´s get back to it, shall we?”

Mace gives you his classic smile. “Smart girl,” he says, happy that all eyes are turning back to him. “Hey, keep this one, Kenobi,” Mace yells, pointing toward you.

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan says with a slightly embarrassed grin.

“Yeah,” Mace says with a devilish smile. “Now, what lucky lady gets to sit on Santa´s lap now?”

You shake your head and roll your eyes, stooping down to collect another set of presents. “Darry!”

Darry gives out a shout of victory. “Finally!” She hurries over to Santa, dragging Luke behind her.

Obi-Wan stands next to the tree as you watch Darry open her gift, which includes various chocolate items and edible body paint. She laughs and stands up from Santa´s lap. “Merry Christmas,” Santa chuckles to her.

“Happy Chanukah,” Darry says to Santa.

Mace scrunches up his face and looks to you for help.

“Don´t worry about it,” Darry says, waving her hand at Mace. She grabs Luke by the hand and drags him off saying, “Time to show this farm boy how Earth girls do it.”

“Do what?” Luke asks as Darry escorts him out of the room to the cheers of all her sibs.

You continue down through the pile of gifts until everything is distributed, including your present of – what else – chocolate truffles, various bath goodies, and all the angst-free CD´s that you asked for. You finally get to rest at a table as Obi-Wan kindly brings you some dinner from the vast buffet.

“I think I need a change,” you say after eating the last of your dinner.

“Pardon?” Obi-Wan says.

“Clothes. A change of clothes,” you say as you stuff holiday goodies into your mouth. “Here,” you say, reaching to grab a piece of fudge from the center of the table. “I made this.” You hold the fudge to his lips, and he opens his mouth obediently to taste it.

“Oh, I like that,” he says with wide eyes.

You smile at your handiwork and then scoot your chair back. “I gotta get outta this costume,” you say as you stand up.

“Can I help?” he asks with a wicked grin.

“Well…. I suppose….”

The two of you walk upstairs toward your room. “Actually, I have a present for you,” Obi-Wan says.

“What?” You turn to face him at your door. “You weren´t supposed to do that!”

“Why not?”

“Because you don´t officially celebrate Christmas. I didn´t get you anything, so you wouldn´t feel like you had to get me something. Now I´m the one who is going to have gift guilt,” you say.

“Well, it´s not a Christmas present…officially. It´s not much,” he says. “I just happened to see it and thought you should have it.”

“Really?” you ask, rather impressed that he was thinking of you when you weren´t around. Then you smile a silly grin and ask, “Where is it?”

He opens the door to your room and says, “In here. I snuck it in before I arrived at the party.”

“Very sly,” you say, wagging your finger at him. You turn to enter your room and let out a loud cackle when you see your unwrapped gift sitting on your bed. You scoot over and pick up the giant, stuffed Wookie and give it a hug. “He´s so cute.”

Obi-Wan chuckles, “Well, I thought I owed you one. And I believe I purchased it for less money than it would have cost me to win it.”

“No doubt,” you say with a laugh.

“You see,” he says, “it´s not a real gift so you don´t have to feel bad.”

“Well, sure it´s a real gift. Now this guy won´t be so lonely,” you say, grabbing the bright magenta creature from the carnival.

“I can´t believe you still have that,” he says with a laugh.

“Me neither,” you say examining the bright ball of cheap fur. “But I still need to give you something.”

Obi-Wan moves forward, grabs you around the waist, and tosses you to the bed as you giggle. He ditches his robe and climbs on top of you. “Alright. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, you could start by torturing me,” you say as you grab his braid and lightly flog his face with it as he scrunches up his nose. “Or…. I could test your control.”

“You present some interesting options,” he says. “But which to choose?”

“Hmmm…. Well, we could always do both at the same time and see who surrenders first,” you say. A very evil grin spreads across his face. “Wait,” you say. “You´re not leaving first thing in the morning, are you?”

He shakes his head, “No, I´m not.”

“Oh good,” you purr. “This could take a while.”

“Are you sure you have the patience for that?” he teases.

“Try me,” you say.

“As you wish,” he says before sinking into a kiss that promises everything for this night and many more to follow.

Chapter 28

“Well,” Obi-Wan pants into your ear, “I think I have passed most of your tests.” He gives you a big Cheshire cat grin. “Unless you have devised more….but I am sure I will prove equally successful.”

You press your sticky body up against his and nibble at his neck. “I´m very happy for you that you have proven your trademark Jedi control,” you say sarcastically. “But I´ve been waiting all night for you to REALLY lose it.”

He chuckles and holds your head to the pillow, sliding his tongue into your mouth and sucking earnestly on your lips before coming up for air and saying, “I believe I did lose control…. A number of times as you recall.” A sly grin forms on his face. “And I must say, your endurance is quite impressive.”

“Making up for lost time,” you say. “But my point is….” Not knowing quite how to say it, you just nervously shake your head and say, “Never mind.”

“What is it?” he asks, his voice soft.

“Nothing,” you say, patting him on the cheek.

“Tell me.”

You smile and say, “Not important. Forget I mentioned it.”

“Sorry,” he says. “I know that brooding mind of yours too well.”

“I´m not brooding,” you say. You tap your finger to your temple. “Most definitely no broodage here. Just happy thoughts.”

He smiles and says, “That´s a relief.”

“See,” you say, attempting to roll to your side. “Now I think we need sleep.”

He traps you on your back. “What did you mean by waiting for me lose control?”

“Post-coital babbling. It didn´t mean anything. You´ve left me completely unable to form coherent thoughts.”

He rests his head gently against your forehead. “Tell me what you want.”

His eyes are too close, so you attempt to shift away from his gaze. You haven´t needed – or wanted – to ask him for anything. You feel your cheeks flush.

He smiles sweetly at your nervousness. “I shall leave no fantasy unfulfilled.”

“I thought you were tired of being fantasy guy.”

He makes a quiet “mmmm” noise and kisses you tenderly. “Not with you.” His lips trace your jawline. “I want to give you what you want.” You feel him smile against your neck as he purrs, “I want to make you scream.”

You laugh and say, “Mission accomplished.”

“And then some,” he responds with a chuckle as he nibbles lightly on your neck. “It´s a good thing your room is at the very end of the hallway.”

Still laughing, you say, “Well, the walls are pretty soundproof. We tested it one night.”

His head pops up, “Excuse me?”

You laugh harder. “We´re so stupid.”

“Who´s we?”

“Kim and I.”

“What?” he asks through his chuckles.

“We were doing a story on the JH building for the magazine.” You feel hysterics coming on and take a deep breath. “So we….” You laugh out loud again. “Oh God,” you sigh, wiping a tear from your eye.

“I´m almost afraid to hear this,” he says.

“So we went into her room. I have this CD that has all these sex noises on it….”

Obi-Wan´s head flops down to the pillow, and he laughs into your hair. “I don´t believe this.”

“I got it out of a magazine. I used to have this upstairs neighbor – when I lived alone – and she would go on and on all night. I called her Orgasma.” You stop to breathe as his body vibrates with laughter against you. “I got really sick of listening to her. Never heard the guy much, so I figured she was faking it. So I´m looking through this magazine one night, and in the ads I see this CD. I ordered it, and then every time she´d start in, I´d put the CD on really loud and turn the speakers toward the ceiling.”

He raises his head and says enthusiastically, “You are the strangest person I have ever met.”

You smile and nod your head. “So anyway, we played the CD in Kim´s room, and I would wander the halls and adjacent rooms to see if I could hear it. We had to turn it up surprisingly loud before it could be heard.” Then you laugh. “Of course Kim and I were having hysterical seizures by the time the experiment was over.”

“I can imagine,” he chuckles.

“The guy…” your voice squeals as you laugh, “…he sounds like a friggin´ Bantha in heat. It´s like a really bad porno flick.”

Obi-Wan sighs. “And here I thought you were an innocent lass.”

“Oh please,” you say sarcastically, grabbing his braid and pulling him down into a kiss. You whimper softly as your body heats up, amazed that you could be so eager for him again. So you won´t be able to walk for a week. Small price to pay.

His arms slide under your back, and he pulls you up with him as he rises to his knees. You wrap your legs around him and can feel his arousal growing against your tender flesh.

He gently sucks your earlobe and whispers in a husky voice, “Tell me what you want.”

“I….” You whine quietly as you feel the intensity of his desire wrapping around you.

“Show me,” he whispers.

You know you are safe here. You close your eyes and send him the thought that hides in the place where the shy girl doesn´t dare go. You hear his breath hitch in his lungs and feel his erection twitch against your rear. You open your eyes and whisper, “Stop being such a gentleman…”

His mouth hangs open as he inhales. “But—“

“…for now,” you add. You grin slightly. “Lose control….” You loosen your legs and drop down to the mattress. “….and act on instinct.”

He emits a soft groan and then lunges at you, grabbing you at the waist and roughly flipping you over onto your knees. His fingers slide over the curve of your rump, and two long digits slip inside you. You gasp as your over-sensitized flesh contracts around his fingers, but your body shivers as he moves them inside you.

You feel lips sucking at your back, and he says, “I don´t want to hurt you.”

You stretch your arms out and up, grabbing the top of the headboard, causing your body to form a long downward curve as your ass rises in the air. You glance over your shoulder at his somewhat astonished face and say, “Take me. Hard.”

The mattress bounces beneath you, and you feel his fingers slide out, his hands roughly grabbing your hips. Then you feel your body gloriously split apart as his cock plunges into you. You spread your legs wider with a groan, pushing back to meet his thrusts. Tiny stabs of pain give way to breathtaking pleasure as your desire begins to flow.

The headboard crashes into the wall as he throws his torso forward, his hands gripping the board on either side of your hands. He moves one hand for a moment to swing your hair to the left, freeing your face as your turn your head to the right. He rubs his damp forehead against your temple, releasing heavy, raspy breaths against your cheek as he thrusts into you.

His chest is hot and slick as it slides against your back, his scent triggering your most primitive instinct. “Harder,” you croak, your throat dry. “Fuck me harder.”

He grunts and pulls his torso up, still gripping the headboard. His hips shift up, and you cry as his cock thrusts upward, roughly sliding against your clit as he angles to hit the deepest point inside you.

The force of his thrusts nearly raises your knees off the mattress. And you are shocked at yourself as, “Harder,” tumbles out of your mouth again.

He growls in response and lets go of the headboard. His hands grab your inner thighs as he raises himself upright. He spreads your legs apart, driving into you with fury. You hang onto the headboard for dear life and look over your shoulder. His eyes are wild, his face beautifully reckless as he uncontrollably grunts with each thrust.

You turn your head and rest it against your shaky, damp arm as your muscles begin to clench around him.

“Oh yeah,” he growls, never slowing his pace. “I´ll make you come hard.”

You moan at his words. He sounds possessed, his tone dangerous and captivating. Your body starts to tremble. “Please,” you say in a staggered whisper. All you hear is another growl and the slippery sound of his cock fucking you senseless. Your moans descend deep into your chest as your strain your hips further back.

Thought giving way to instinct, you release one hand from the headboard. You grab his right hand from its grip on your thigh and swiftly rush it to your center, guiding his index and middle finger over you clit. He lets out a stuttered groan as you show him how to touch you, circling his fingers faster and faster.

His groans continue, growing louder and louder, his hand gripping your thigh tighter. He calls your name as he explodes inside you. You squeeze his hand, and his fingers stroke you faster as he continues to pump his orgasm. You cry out as your body releases, your hand slipping from the headboard as you thrash against him. His arm catches you around the waist, pulling you up and back. You smack against his chest, your head falling to his shoulder, your hips popping forward as his fingers stroke the last waves of your climax out of you.

You slide your wet fingers between his and pull his hand away as you flinch from over-stimulation. He gently pushes you forward and slides out of you. You crawl on shaky limbs up to your pillow and collapse. He follows closely behind, spooning his body against yours. His chest heaves against your back, his sticky fingers lacing around yours again.

“So how will you explain my death to Qui-Gon?” he asks against your shoulder.

“I´m sure he´ll take pity on me since I´ll be spending the rest of my life in a wheelchair,” you say.

He nuzzles into you with a happy noise. “Anymore fantasies you want to share with me?”

“Um…no, I think I´m quite sated for the next several hours, at least,” you say.

He chuckles. “I should hope so.”

“Go to sleep,” you mumble.

“Mmm-hmm,” he sighs drowsily.

You awaken quite late the following morning. You stretch your body and feel every well-earned ache from the night´s activities. Obi-Wan stirs and snuggles against you.

“Good morning,” he says in your ear.”

“Morning,” you sigh.

His hand runs down your arm, his fingers finding your wrist. “Ah, she still has a pulse.”

You laugh and roll to your back. “And yourself?”

His eyes dart back and forth. “Everything seems to be in working order…mostly,” he says with a grin.

You chuckle. “Yeah, I think we should try walking as a first step to recovery.”

“Ladies first,” he says.

You sit up and swat his butt and then swing your legs over the side of the bed. You slowly stand with a groan and walk to the closet to get your robe.

“She walks. It´s a miracle,” Obi-Wan says enthusiastically.

You stick your tongue out at him. “Brat.” He gives you a who-me? look as you wrap your robe around yourself. You walk to the window and peek out. “Holy schmoly, the sun´s out.”

“We have a sun?” Obi-Wan asks with exaggerated shock.

“Well, let me put it this way,” you say. “It´s not raining, and there´s a brighter than normal tint to the smog.” You turn to him. “Breakfast in the garden?”

“Sounds perfect. What are you making?”

You smirk. “Heard of bread? It´s kind of a new thing.”

“Now who´s the brat?”

“You take the bread, see, and put it in this contraption called a toaster. And then you put jelly on it…. Although I s´pose you´re probably not a big jelly fan these days.” You dodge a pillow as it launches toward you, Obi-Wan sitting with his arms crossed and giving you a pout. You scurry over to the bed, kissing his forehead and rubbing his head. “Oh, poor widdle pooky,” you say.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “There you go again. More bizarre names.”

You plunk down on the side of the bed. “Aw, you don´t like pooky?” you say in a high-pitched voice. “Well, how about Obi-Wobi, my shnuggle wuggums?” you squeak, pinching his cheeks.

He pulls your pinching fingers away and gives you a crazy look while he shakes his head.

“You´re no fun at all,” you say.

“I´m sorry. I´m just no good at this game,” he says.

“What game?”

“This silly name game.”

“It´s not a silly name game.” You put on a really bad fake French accent and say, “Eet eez zeh languazh of luuuve.”

He raises both eyebrows at you and says, “Qui-Gon, for instance, calls every woman ‘little one´, and it makes me cringe.”

You smack his chest. “Are you high?”

“Stop. It just seems so…so patronizing,” he snorts.

“What would you have him call them? ‘Hey, c´mere fat ass!´ Or how about, ‘Sling that meat my way, big heifer mama!´”

“No, of course not,” he says rather disgustedly. “But little one?”

You lightly knock on his forehead. “Hello, McFly! He´s a big man. Everyone is little next to him. Duh.”

“Yes, but—“

“Has he ever shown disrespect to any woman?”

“No,” he grumbles.

“So what´s the problem?”

“Well, he…. He just says it. Just like that. It…. It doesn´t feel natural to me,” he says.

“Honey, listen—“

“See, you did it again,” he says. “And I´m no good at it. If I called you ‘honey´, it would sound ridiculous.”

“Pphhh…Obi-Wan! No, it wouldn´t,” you say in an exasperated tone. “Go ahead, call me ‘honey´.”

He scrunches his face. “Well, I can´t do it now. It wouldn´t sound right.” He sighs.

“Oh brother. Listen, you don´t have to use a nickname,” you say.

“But you have names for everyone…and several for me. And I can´t even think of one,” he says.

“You are thinking about this way too much. Because….” You crawl up on the bed and straddle his legs. “I seem to recall you calling me ‘baby´ in the throes of passion…..and ‘angel´, too. Talk about turning a girl into a puddle.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Big time swoonage there.”

He grins for a moment and then says, “Oh, but I can´t call you those names all the time. A baby is….is a baby, a child. And an angel is—“

“Fine,” you say, putting up your hand. “Just trying to help. While you´re being all neurotic, I´m going to take a shower.”

“Oh,” he says. “Want some company?”

“Sure,” you say, getting up from the bed. “But you have to keep your wanger to yourself….for a few hours anyway.”

“Wanger,” he says. “It´s not giving me….swoonage, I believe was the term you used.”

“Well, what do you want me to call it, ‘Mister Happy´?”

Obi-Wan stands from the bed and looks down. “I think ‘Mister Sleepy´ would be more appropriate.”

You snort. “Well c´mon, my hunka-hunka burnin´ love,” you say as you turn into the bathroom. “Time to get wet and slippery.”

“But he could be convinced to awaken,” Obi-Wan says.

You laugh as you step under the hot water. “I wouldn´t survive it. And then you´d have to go to jail FOREVER.” You rinse your hair back as he steps into the shower.

“Oh, alright,” he says. “I´ll just have to kiss you senseless then.” He leans in and kisses you softly, but quite thoroughly. He picks you up as he kisses you and slowly turns you around.

Once your feet are firmly back on the tub floor, you realize what he has done. You pull away from him and say, “Hey! You stole the water!”

“Mmm-hmm,” he nods and bends his head back under the water.

“Oh fine,” you say, reaching for the shampoo. You hand him the bottle and say, “Make it quick.”

He pops open the lid and sniffs it. “Smells like a girl.”

You turn and grab the tube of very perfumey body wash that you never use, but that just clutters up the shelf, and squirt it all over him. “There, now you smell like a girl.”

He wrinkles his nose when the too-sweet scent hits him. He quickly rinses his hair and jumps around to bat the gel off his chest and arms before it turns to lather.

You grab the shampoo bottle from him and shimmy around him to get under the water. “Wow, that stuff really stinks,” you say.

“Thank you very much,” he says, smelling his forearm and making a yucky face.

“Regular soap is there,” you say. You suppress your laughter as you watch him scrub himself down like he´s just been exposed to a deadly virus. You proceed to wash your hair, stepping aside to let him rinse off the half bar of soap he used. He steps back behind you as you lather up your hair.

“Ah,” he says.

You look over your shoulder to see him wiping shampoo off his cheek. “Sorry,” you say. “I forgot about the fling factor. I don´t usually share this space.”

“Well, I´d better help you before I lose an eye,” he says with a smile.

You sigh as his fingers plunge into your hair, rubbing your scalp and the base of your skull for several minutes. You stand contentedly as he gently runs his fingers down the length of your hair.

“It´s so heavy,” he says.

“Hmm?”

“Your hair. It´s heavy,” he says softly.

“It´s wet,” you say, smiling at his odd observation.

“Hmm,” is his response as he guides you to turn around to rinse. He ducks as the shampoo sprays in various directions when the water hits your head.

“Umm, perhaps I will leave you to finish on your own,” he says.

You chuckle. “Alright. I´ll be out in a few.”

When you shut the water off, he suddenly appears, clad only in his trousers, with your robe. You wrap a towel around your hair and grab another one to dry off with. He holds your robe out for you to slip your arms in. You tie it around yourself and pull the towel off your head, squeezing out the excess moisture. You grab a comb and raise it to your head.

“Can I do that?” he asks.

“Um…sure,” you say, handing him the comb.

He tentatively pulls the comb through your hair, flinching every time it catches and apologizing.

“Just rip right through it,” you say. “I have a tough head.” He smiles but continues to go very slowly. You grab your lotion and say, “Let´s go sit on the bed.”

You sit on the edge of the bed and lotion up your legs as he sits behind you and combs your hair. He continues to comb it for quite a while even though you can tell he has removed all the tangles. “Uh, you almost done there?” you finally ask.

“Yes,” he says as the comb continues to glide through your hair. He finally sets it down and runs his hands under and over your hair a couple times. Then he kisses the back of your head and swings around to kneel in front of you. He unties your robe and slides it off your shoulders. You pull your arms out and reach forward to touch his face.

“I want to keep you in my mind just like this,” he says, kissing your hand.

“Please don´t,” you say with an embarrassed laugh.

He reaches up to run his finger across your cheek. “Too late,” he says with a smile.

“Well, suit yourself,” you say. “It´s your crazy daydream.” You pat your tummy. “Just make this part flatter, OK?”

He leans in and plants a solid kiss on your belly as you laugh. He looks down and gasps. You look and see the bruise on your inner thigh. You nod and say, “Yeah, I have love bruises. Cool, huh?”

“I´m sorry,” he says quietly.

“Don´t be. I bruise very easily. And I´m very proud of this one,” you say with a grin.

He gives you an unconvincing smile and lightly rubs the injured skin with his fingers. As he does so, he accidentally brushes against your center with the back of his hand. You reflexively pull your hips back.”

He looks up at you with concerned eyes. “I hurt you last night.”

“Oh,” you sigh, sliding your hand across his cheeks, “of course not.” You feel his thumb tentatively touch you, and you tense a little.

“I did,” he says.

“No, you didn´t. I´m just a little sore, but in a very, very good way.”

“You promise?”

You take his chin in your hand. “Listen to me. You are the only man I have ever wanted to so enthusiastically bed. Last night certainly established an all-time record for me, so don´t get wiggy on me now that the tramp is loosed.”

His worried face breaks into a smile, and he pulls your head down and kisses you.

“Besides,” you say, “if you think this bruise is bad, you should get a load of your back.”

“Yes, I noticed that while I was getting dressed,” he says with a smirk.

“Hmm…. You don´t look dressed,” you say, eyeing his bare chest.

“Neither do you,” he says. He leans down and tenderly kisses your bruised skin. He spreads your legs slightly and places a soft kiss on your curls.

“Obi-Wan, I don´t think I´m up to this.”

His eyes look up. “Trust me,” he whispers. “Please. Tell me if it hurts, and I´ll stop.” He looks back down and oh-so-gently kisses your bundle of overwrought nerves. His eyes shoot back up to you. “Alright?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

His eyes fall back down, and his tongue caresses your clit so lightly, so tenderly, it literally takes your breath away. His tongue soothes you as it glides slowly around the sensitive nub. You sigh and lean back on your hands as he reverently persuades you to arousal. Equally careful fingers dance up and across your breasts, and you close your eyes to savor the warmth that fills your body and soul.

You whimper as waves of the sweetest orgasm gently roll through you. Your heart flutters as his tongue carefully takes you through and over the crest of your climax. He removes his tongue just as the pleasure ends and before any discomfort can begin.

You pull him into an embrace, inhaling the scent of his clean skin and enjoying the feel of his smooth, warm back. He rises up and kisses you, and you try to pour al the tenderness into him that he´s given to you.

Then you whisper against his lips, “Now you really smell like a girl.”

He chuckles and kisses you again. “But not just any girl,” he says. “My girl.”

“You see,” you say. “You just did it.”

“Did what?”

“Used a nickname on me.”

He wrinkles his brow. “I can´t call you ‘my girl´ in normal conversation.”

“Oh, yes you can,” you say with a grin. You stand up and walk to the dresser. You put on your undergarments and say, “Darlin´, it´s not a privilege I´d afford to any man. In fact, I don´t think I´ve ever let any man refer to me as his girl. I suggest you not pass up the opportunity.” You reach into your closet and pull a loose, long, heavy knit shirt over your head. You grab some leggings out of your dresser and sit on the bed to put them on.

After thinking a while getting dressed, Obi-Wan says, “I can´t call you ‘my girl´ on a regular basis.”

“Fine, don´t,” you say. “Stop angsting over this, will ya?”

He gets on his knees in front of you. “Listen, love, it´s not that I don´t….” He stops talking when you begin to laugh.

“You did it again.”

“What?”

“You called me ‘love´. Just like that, it rolled off your tongue.”

His eyes get big. “I did call you ‘love´, didn´t I?”

“Yes,” you say, nodding. “Congratulations.”

“Hmmm…. I rather like that, actually,” he says.

You pat him on the shoulder and get up to find your shoes. “Good job, shnuggle wuggums.”

As soon as your shoes are on and you straighten up, he grabs you around the waist and lifts you until your eyes meet, your feet dangling above the floor. “Alright, love, ready to eat?” he says.

You smile and nod enthusiastically.

“Yes,” he says quite proudly. “I think I can call you ‘love´.” He kisses the tip of your nose. “My love.”

Your insides quiver. “And mine.” You brush the tip of your nose against his. “OK, Pooky, let´s go.”

“Um,” he says, still holding you up quite effortlessly. “Could we go back to that bit about burning love?”

You giggle, “Oh, my hunka-hunka?”

“Yes, that´s the one,” he says as he begins to walk forward, still carrying you.

“Or would you prefer lover boy, big stud, or raging inferno of manmeat?”

He smiles and says, “Did I mention that you are the strangest person I have ever met?”

“Yes, I believe we´ve covered that already.” As he steps into the elevator, still holding you aloft, you say, “Um…you can put me down now if you want.”

“I don´t want to, actually,” he says. “Do you mind?”

“Oh no…no. Just thought you might be getting tired.”

He grins. “I´ll show you something.” He takes his arms away, and you prepare to drop to the floor…but you don´t. He steps back and you remain in mid-air.

You squeak at your sudden disorientation and reach out to him. “Neat trick,” you say nervously.

“But I prefer it like this,” he says, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around you.

“Me, too.”

“Can I take you out and buy you breakfast…or lunch, or whatever time it is?”

“Sure thing, Jedi Man. Maybe I should change, though. I´ve kinda got a slacker bit going on here.”

The elevator door opens. “You look beautiful,” he says, carrying your out of the elevator as you wave to sibs in the hall. “Besides, I want to make sure you eat well before I leave since you´ll probably starve yourself out of grief while I´m gone.”

“Um, that´d be more like gorging myself on cookies and ice cream,” you say. “So you´d better not be gone too long, or I won´t be your love anymore.”

His forehead wrinkles. “What do you mean?”

“I´ll be your love lump,” you say, emphasizing the last word. “So you´d better hurry back.”

He finally sets you down in the foyer. “It may be a little while. I just want you to know that.”

You nod. “I gathered that from your….enthusiasm last night.”

He smiles and says, “But today is yours as well. Until this evening.”

“And then they get you back,” you say.

He nods and leans down to look in your eyes. “But you will stay here,” he says placing your hand over his heart.

You feel your emotion flood your eyes. You reach up and pull his head down, kissing his forehead and his temple. “I´m not clingy, I´m not,” you chuckle, somewhat embarrassed. “I can let go, really I can. Highly independent, that´s me,” you assert as you sniffle.

He smiles and kisses you sweetly. “But when I return—“

“You will still belong to them. I know that. Let´s not pretend otherwise.”

“Alright,” he says quietly. “But right now I belong to you.”

“Darn tootin´ ya do,” you say, grabbing his chin. “So take me out and let me make a shameless pig of myself.”

He laughs and opens the front door. “Lead the way.”

He puts his arm around your shoulders as you walk down the sidewalk. “When I return after my long, arduous mission, you can take me to the circus.” You groan and he continues. “With acrobats and animals and CLOWNS and—“

“La-La-La-La,” you say as you plug your ears.

He pulls your hands away, and purrs into your ear, “How about if I call you….baby.” The word is low and deep in his throat.

You swallow hard as the little shiver recedes. You then give him a sideways glance. “How about if I just cover your entire body with thick, warm chocolate sauce,” you say, enunciating each word.

The tips of his ears turn red. He grins and says, “And then?”

You dart your eyebrows up. “Guess you´ll have to come home to find out.”

“Guess so,” he says, pulling you close and kissing you. Then he grabs your hand and walks quickly toward the café on the corner. “But if we hurry, maybe we can fit it in before I go.”

“Silly Jedi,” you laugh as you scamper along behind him.