Title: HSU - Truth or Consequences, Part 1 of 2
Author: Emmy
Rating: FM (Forgive Me)
Archive: Yes
Disclaimer: We own a diamond mine, remember??
Timeline: After Caeryn's 'Bon Anniversaire' and concurrent with Shana's 'When Morning Comes'

It was the scream that did it. Had it not been for the scream, she could have avoided the inevitable for a little while longer. Or she could have kept on sleeping and very possibly died from the poisoning. That would have been okay, too. In fact, it would have been preferable.

If not for the scream.... The harshest, hair-raising, blood-curdling scream.

Emmy dragged her eyelids open as her head split apart at the shriek of horror emanating from someplace beyond her bedroom window. The slightest concern entered her consciousness....

But then a more urgent matter arose. Literally.

Emmy scrambled out of bed despite that fact that her head was splitting open along several competing fault lines. She ran to the bathroom as fast as her shaky equilibrium would allow, making it to the toilet JUST in time to succumb to, without a doubt, the very worst hangover of her life.

After several minutes, she was able to raise herself slowly to her feet, flushing the toilet and then bracing herself on the counter as she stood over the sink, refusing to look at herself in the mirror. She rinsed her face and mouth and quickly grabbed a towel, covering her eyes from the cruel daylight.

And then she realized the screaming was still going on. She tried to inch her way closer to the window to see what all the fuss was about, but the light was too much for her cracked open head to cope with.

Emmy sat on the edge of the bed, listening as closely as she could to the ruckus without causing her brain any more injury. The screams were actually sounding more like words now. She closed her eyes and listened.

"The BIIIIIIIIIIKE is in the POOOOOOOOOOL!!" The screaming voice, unrecognizable to Emmy in her condition, then began to sob and wheeze.

"Caeryn! Why are you scr--"

Emmy knew that very male voice. But then it was silent. Nothing more.

Emmy then gasped as the horror of recollection flooded her mind.

The bike was in the pool. The General's beautiful, beloved Triumph was now under nine feet of heavily chlorinated water. Emmy groaned with that horribly convicted feeling of a terrible wrong committed.

And then she groaned again as she ran into the bathroom.

Another several minutes later, she sat slumped against the bathtub. As her brain began to shut down in various locations, she grabbed a giant bath towel, laid down on the rug, pulled the towel over her shivering body, and tried like hell to either die or at least fall back asleep, vowing to never, ever drink again.

~*~

It was late into the morning, and they hadn't appeared. He was worried. He was also angry, confused, and really quite tired. But after Judy discovered the rather significant amount of missing tequila, combined with an entire case worth of twelve empty ale bottles scattered about, the General became quite concerned about the welfare of his wayward Emmy and Shana, setting aside his own feelings of offense in order to head upstairs and check on them.

Plus he also needed to head off any of the other girls who might to check on them for less than altruistic purposes.

~*~

The General knocked softly on Emmy's door as a courtesy. Receiving no response, he slowly opened the door. "Emmy?"

Nothing.

However, he could sense her in there someplace, her energy lacking the usual spark of her presence and replaced by a great deal of disharmony.

As he entered her suite, he was surprised to find most of the curtains wide open, thinking about how that amount of alcohol would affect him. But when he looked to the bed, he discovered she wasn't in it.

Knowing that could only mean one thing, he quickly stepped toward her bathroom. Although he could sense her vitality, despite her presumably less than healthy state, he froze for a moment when he saw her curled up on the floor atop the green rug. She was laying on her side, her head resting on a lifeless outstretched arm, with a towel covering her. Her eyes were closed, and her entire face, including her lips, bore the same pasty tone.

He moved quickly then, bending down and lifting her shoulders off the floor, ignoring her protesting groan as he sat her up against the wall. "Emmy," he said again, his voice filled with concern.

"No," she whispered upon recognizing his voice. "Go away."

He brushed her hair back from her face, her skin clammy beneath his hands. "I'm going to move you to the bed."

"I'm too sick," she whispered. "Just leave me for now."

"How much did you drink?" he asked.

Emmy covered her face with trembling hands but didn't answer.

"I'll be right back," he said, making sure she was steady against the wall and then standing up to walk back into her bedroom. He made his way to the small refrigerator next to her desk and grabbed a bottle of water. Returning to the bathroom, he crouched down next to her again and opened the bottle. "Drink this."

Emmy groaned, shaking her head and pushing the bottle away.

"It's water. You need to drink it."

"I can't."

"Please."

"No."

"Don't argue with me," he snapped a little louder.

Emmy put her hand down, not wanting him to repeat with any more volume. "It will make me sick."

"Just a little." He held the bottle to her lips, and hesitantly she reached up and tilted it, letting the water pour into her mouth. She took a couple drinks and then choked as her stomach protested the invasion, scrambling forward with his assistance to become re-acquainted with the plumbing.

~*~

A couple hours later she was feeling somewhat better. Physically, anyway. He had eventually deposited her in the bed and then left her to recover in silence. Despite a rather interesting skirmish between two Ho's outside her door, one who wanted to march in and give her a good dressing down and the other who made the winning argument to let the General handle things for now, it was quiet enough for her to sleep a little longer.

Emmy awoke again with the sound of her door opening. Her first instinct was too hide under the covers, but after her experience in the bathroom earlier, she decided he had seen the worst of it.

"Would you like something to eat?" he asked.

"No."

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "How's your head?"

"Still attached to my body."

"Have you been drinking water?"

"Just woke up," she said.

"So what shall I do about all the girls downstairs who want to march up here, drag you outside, and plant you on a one-way rail out of here?"

Emmy swallowed hard and then rolled over away from him.

The General sighed. He was letting his control slip, and his anger reared its head. He found himself wanting to hurt her, not physically of course, but he wanted her to know how her actions had pained him.

But then he stopped himself when he realized that her actions had to be the result of her own pain.

"How's Shana?"

He was somewhat surprised at her question, having prepared himself for tears or a multitude of apologies. "About the same as you, I suppose."

"That's not good," she said.

"No, it's not. But she'll be fine. Just as you will be."

Emmy closed her eyes. "I think I'm going to rest some more."

"That's probably the best thing right now." He stepped toward the door and then stopped. "Emmy."

"Yeah?"

She hadn't given him the kind of dramatic reception he had expected. And although he was never fond of her self-flagellation, the fact that she was so non-responsive worried him. "I'm not saying that last night is forgotten, nor am I saying that you don't have some damage to repair with the other girls. But I want to make it clear to you that you are more important to me than any bottle of ale, car, or motorcycle. And whatever words may be exchanged or frustrations shared once you are feeling well enough to talk about this, I want you to always remember what I have just said."

Emmy squeezed her pillow but didn't feel any great surge of emotion, perhaps for the very reason that she knew what he said to be true. She knew that the bike could be replaced, the car fixed, and the ale supply replenished when she had done all these things. "There isn't much to say," she said, still facing the wall opposite where he stood. "Everyone has been spread extraordinarily thin lately. Last night was simply the straw that broke the camel's back. So we drank too much and did really, really stupid things. It's not an excuse, just an explanation. I don't know what more you can make of it than that."

"I think that you and I have more to discuss than the events of last night."

"Yes, we do," she said. "Beginning with why it's okay with you for me to believe that you don't want me until you're good and ready to prove that you do."

The words hit him in the gut with greater force than any tears or tantrums ever could. His mind reacted quickly protest her assertion. "That's not--"

"And we've known each other too long for either of us to pretend that it isn't true," she added. Emmy finally rolled over and looked at him. "Even if you disagree, please do me the courtesy of at least thinking about what I have said, just as I will consider your words."

He blinked his eyes away from her for a moment and then nodded his head. "Of course. You deserve that."

"Yes, I do." She held his gaze until he slowly turned around and exited the room. She exhaled her agitation and covered her face with a pillow to banish the sunlight from her eyes.

And then she wondered how one would go about fishing a motorcycle out of a swimming pool.

Part 2

The water from the shower hit her head a little too hard, but by now Emmy was ready to feel nearly human and dare to actually eat something. Of course, in order to that she would have to go downstairs and face the jury.

She merely towel dried her hair, figuring there was no reason for formality given what had happened. Besides, she didn't really want to have to look at herself in the mirror for too long given the ashen pallor of her skin.

She pulled on a lightweight cotton charcoal grey hooded sweater and some comfortable non-form-fitting black knit pants. The colors not only suited her mood but also seemed to nicely match her complexion.

The she took a deep breath, opened her door, and walked out into the world.

~*~

"I mean, the other things were bad," Darry said, snapping her gum as the Ho's gathered around the large island in the kitchen. "But he loved that bike. And, more importantly, I loved that bike."

"Kinda makes me not feel so bad for all the stupid things I did," Diebin said. "Maybe we should thank them for clearing our slate so effectively."

"I can understand their being upset," Caeryn said, "but that does not excuse--" She stopped when she saw Emmy enter the kitchen. "Wow," she remarked under her breath.

The Ho's turned to look at the tarnished Diva.

"You look like shit," Darry said.

"Feel like shit," Emmy said.

Caeryn sighed. "Want some tea? I'm making some."

"Yeah, thanks."

Emmy scooted herself onto one of the cushy stools at the island. "Where is he?"

"Around," Diebin said.

Emmy nodded. "Sorry, guys."

"Yeah well," Darry said. "Shit happens."

"You probably don't want to see much of me for a while, eh?" Emmy said.

"Hey," Diebin said, "I'm the only angst queen around here. I mean, I'll share the role with you for a while, but I want it back, you hear?"

Emmy sighed. "I know. He just told me how mad you guys were."

"Yes, we were. That wasn't nice," Caeryn said. "But, of course, neither was hacking apart his desk."

"So you still don't want to run me out on a rail?"

"Who said that?" Diebin said.

"He did."

"He said what??" Diebin said. "Now, Sex on Wheels or no Sex on Wheels, you're my Emmers, and nobody is running you out of here."

"That's right," Darry said. "We were upset. He's a man, ergo, stupid, Jedi or not."

Emmy smiled weakly.

Caeryn pouted a little. She really loved that bike.

"Anybody seen Shana yet?" Emmy asked.

"She's outside," Caeryn said quietly. "By the pool."

Emmy cringed. "I think I'll go out and see how she's doing."

~*~

Emmy approached Shana as she stood with her arms folded and head hanging down, presumably staring mournfully at the damage they had done. "How are you doing?"

Shana turned her head slowly. "About as bad as you look. And you?"

"Ditto." Emmy stood next to Shana, happy that the late afternoon sun was behind the building and not reflecting on the water. It was almost surreal, the motorcycle resting quietly under the gently lapping waves created by the light breeze in the air. Suddenly, Emmy snorted, biting her lips.

"Don't," Shana said.

"I just can't believe we did that," Emmy said, forcing her mouth into a frown.

Shana covered her hand over her mouth to push her facial muscles down. "It's...uh...." she sputtered.

Emmy leaned in close to Shana, their arms pressed together as they stood side by side. "I'm not...going to...." she said, her voice turning into a squeak.

Now Shana snorted. "Me neither." She took a deep breath.

"Do you think they're....watching us?" Emmy choked out as her body began to shake.

Shana tried to control the heaving of her lungs. "Most likely." Her voice was strained as she struggled for control.

"I'm not doing this." Emmy said as her body began to shake.

"Neither am I," Shana said.

~*~

The Ho's peeked out the window squinting to get a good view of Emmy's and Shana's backs, noting their body language and the gyrations of their shoulders.

"Oh, they're really upset," Caeryn said.

"Yep," Darry said, blowing a large bubble next to Diebin's face. Diebin scowled. Darry snapped and flipped.

"What's going on?"

The Ho's turned to see the General standing in the doorway giving them all The Look.

Caeryn was the first to nnngghh. And then she said, "Emmy and Shana. They're out by the pool. Looks like they're crying."

The General nodded. "Well then, we should all go make sure that they're alright," he said, heading for the door.

~*~

The Ho's stood behind the General a few feet away from Emmy and Shana who were now clinging to each other as their voices cracked and their lungs wheezed from the overwhelming emotion.

And then they both threw their heads back with laughter.

"Laughing?!" Caeryn said, suddenly marching forward.

Shana and Emmy gasped, completely unaware that they had an audience. They tried to look serious and forlorn. They really did.

"This isn't funny!" Caeryn yelled, losing her empathy a bit. She walked to the edge of the pool and pointed at the submerged form. "Look what you did!"

Shana bit her lips to keep from smiling. "Well, I gave a really nice eulogy," she said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"And I sang the funeral procession," Emmy said, snickering and then covering her mouth with her hand as Caeryn glared at her. She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too," Shana whispered.

And then suddenly, the corners of Caeryn's mouth turned up and her lips quivering. "This doesn't mean you are forgiven," she asserted. Then she lost it and began to giggle. "You drowned the Triumph," she have snickered and half whined, lightly slapping Emmy's arm.

"We're getting a new one," Shana said.

"And...and...a crane, perhaps?" Emmy said.

Darry's evil laughter could then be heard from behind them. "I can't believe you pitched the bike into the drink."

"And the car," Diebin said. "My poor twinny has been trying to get those stickers off all day."

"I'll figure that out," Emmy said. "Just...uh...don't turn on the air vents."

"Oh?" the General said.

"They might go snap, crackle, pop. I'll get it fixed," Emmy said.

Diebin sighed. And then she laughed.

Emmy smiled a bit. "I'm injured, would that help?" She pulled up her pant leg to show off the really ugly bruise and scabbed over gash on her leg.

"Yeah, actually, it does," Caeryn said with a soft smile.

"Okay then," Shana said. "I think I need to go back to bed."

"Me, too," Emmy said.

"Are you drinking water?" Darry asked.

The two Ho's nodded as they walked back toward the building.

"You should probably eat something, too," the Nurse added.

"Ugh," came the simultaneous response. They walked slowly inside, by passing any trace of food, and heading for their rooms.

"So about the bike," Emmy said.

"I ordered a new one," Shana said.

"Oh. Well, I'm going to pay half."

"Thanks," Shana said. "That makes me feel better."

"So how much are we talking?"

"Maybe eight, ten grand each. I'll let you know when the bill comes," Shana said.

"Oy."

"Yeah."

"So much for those minding dividends," Emmy said.

"Bye-bye, high life."

"We won't do that again."

"No ma'am."

~*~

What a difference a day and half made. Emmy was feeling almost whole. Able to eat, think, see, and hear again. Of course, with time comes exponentially increased guilt. She hadn't actually spoken with the General since the previous hellish morning and had only seen him out back by the pool where he seemed to serve as the overseer of Ho diplomacy. And now that the crane was out back fishing out the poor Triumph, and she was now well over ten thousand dollars in debt, Emmy knew she wouldn't be laughing about this again anytime soon.

She hadn't seen Shana at all since the previous afternoon, but since Shana had commandeered the motorcycle and ale salvage operations, Emmy figured the car was up to her. She had called the specialty dealer where they had originally bought it and arranged to have the bumper replaced and the vents cleaned out. Now she just had to find the General to beg for the keys.

He wasn't that difficult to find. After supervising the crane operation, he had moved to the garage. Emmy found him there just staring at the car, the half peeled bumper stickers serving as a distinct reminder of their displeasure, be it drunken or not. Now that Emmy was sober and healthy, his form was a challenge to observe and still remain in command of her faculties. She approached him from behind, noting the bend of his legs beneath the black pants, the shift of his hips, and the straight line of his back and shoulders, the black shirt pulling slightly against his solid frame when he brought his arms up and folded them on his chest.

"I called a place in town," she said quietly, assuming he was well aware of her presence already. "They can work on it tomorrow morning. If you want to give me your keys, I can take it in and catch a cab back."

The time for games was over. He turned quickly to give her his response, but his voice halted in his throat. She looked well. Better than well, in fact. The early Spring sun alighted her loosely pinned up hair, highlighting the faintest auburn sheen of her dark locks. She wore a sheer, muted lime green long sleeved blouse, the sunlight revealing the line of the matching camisole underneath. Her straight, slim black skirt, something lighter than velvet on this warm day, covered her legs, the hemline tickling around bare ankles as it ruffled in the breeze.

"Well?"

Her quiet word interrupted his focus on the idea of sliding his hands up underneath the skirt to verify that her legs really were bare underneath.

"Damn you," she whispered.

That brought him back to full attention. "Excuse me?"

"It's not fair that you can read my mind, but I can't read yours behind that ever stoic face."

"I wasn't reading your mind. I'll drive my car. You follow me in yours," he ordered calmly but firmly.

"Right," Emmy said, walking toward and then past him.

And as the General watched the languid sway of her hips and the manner in which she stroked back the renegade curls that had escaped the pins in her hair, he knew that his stubborn resolve to make her work her way back to him was fading fast.

She turned her head to look at him as she sat in her car, waiting for him to get into his. "Warm enough for the top down, you think?" she asked, preferring small talk to heavy silence.

"Most likely," he said, noting with some sadness that he detected the slightest hint of fear in her eyes. He got into his car, and, distracted as he was, forgot her instruction about not turning on the air vents.

"Shit," Emmy sighed as she watched a burst of Rice Krispies surround him.

~*~

They walked out of the repair shop silently. Emmy simply tried to focus on the pleasant feel of warm sunlight as they headed to her car.

"Give me your keys," he said, holding out his hand.

She surrendered them without protest, then walked quickly ahead of him to open the passenger side door herself in order to avoid the awkward situation of him opening it for her, which he no doubt would have done.

He adjusted the driver's seat and then closed the door, started up the engine, and drove out of the parking lot.

Emmy sat, looking out to the side to avoid any glances from the General, simply trying to enjoy the sunny afternoon drive with the top down. But the longer he remained silent, the worse she began to feel.

The General knew they were at an impasse. She too stubborn to talk to him, and he too stubborn to talk to her. The Jedi Code worked well in matters of galactic importance, but, despite its wisdom, it didn't save him from the inevitable messy entanglement of emotions involved in deeply personal relationships.

"I messed up."

He barely heard the whisper over the noise of the road, the wind carrying it off as soon as she spoke. He shifted his eyes quickly to catch her remorseful expression before her face turned quickly from him.

Emmy swallowed hard. She didn't want to do this. But the tears sprang forth from her eyes before she could stop them. She looked out to the side as best she could to hide it from him, shivering when she felt his strong hand on her shoulder.

He couldn't do this while driving. He slowed the car and pulled over onto the wide gravel shoulder. Setting the brake and killing the engine, he reached over again, trying to pull her away from the passenger door that she had huddled herself against.

"Don't," he said softly, tugging on her shoulder. "Please, love."

That was all it took. Emmy turned to face him, trying to sniffle back her tears. "I'm sorry. I messed up."

"We all did," he said, pulling her closer, "to one extent or another."

She sighed as he kissed her forehead. "I made an idiot of myself, but I can live with that."

"Can you?"

She smiled weakly. "What I mean is, I can process all that and just be embarrassed for a good long while. But I don't know how to get past destroying the few things that you loved best. And behind all that, I don't know how to go beyond the feelings that caused me to do that in the first place."

He cradled the back of her neck in his hand, gently running soothing fingers along the corded tendons. "First of all, I did not love those things the best. I told you that yesterday. But yes, the fact that you and Shana became rather destructive toward my few material pleasures concerns me a great deal."

"It was just lashing out," she said. "Childish and selfish, perhaps. We felt cast aside. And after everything that has happened, that feeling was magnified. Rationally, and soberly, we know it was a silly mix-up and oversight. But it just sort of reinforced this insecurity, I guess."

He carefully wiped a tear from her cheek. "Which is what?"

"That you don't," her breath caught in her lungs, "want me anymore...or at least not like you used to."

The General sighed. "Don't even think that."

"Then why...." Emmy stopped to collect her thoughts. "Did you think about what I said yesterday? It always seems like you have this need to prove that I belong to you. You never come to me until it gets to a point that you feel you need to prove that."

"But you are very good at avoiding me," he said. "And you are very difficult to figure out, even after all this time."

"That stupid week when I handed over my appointments," she said. "I never needed an appointment before that. Then suddenly I did. You made no effort to see me otherwise. And then this past week, you only approached me when I was otherwise occupied with work, the other girls, or just completely off my rocker."

"I have too much pride and so do you," he said.

"Yeah," she whispered.

"Why didn't you come to me? Why do you always expect me to be the one to grovel?"

She closed her eyes. "Because I was afraid to approach you."

"But why?" he asked, pressing his forehead to hers. "You are not reserved, at least not where you are comfortable." He paused for a moment. "So you are uncomfortable with me, then?"

"I'm just not feeling myself," she said.

"I understand."

"And I was afraid that you had grown tired of me because I had grown tired of me. I was afraid that you really thought me as shallow as I was feeling."

"I need you," he said.

"You assume I know I that."

He nodded. "Yes, I suppose I do."

"I don't. At least not lately."

"I wish you would talk to me before it goes this far," he said. "You behave like you're alright. And I'm not in the habit of digging through your mind, I want to respect your privacy that way. You give the impression that you are fine on your own, that you don't need me either."

Emmy thought for a moment. "In one way, I don't need you. But in another, I do. So I can be independent and not. I can say I'm fine on my own and then in the next second worry that you don't want me because I still want you. It's very confusing," she said with a weak smile.

"Yes, it is," he said. "But do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Still want me?"

"Of course," she said. "Why do you think I've been so crazy? Aside from the unfortunate lack of Nutella."

He smiled. "So can we just make our apologies and put this all behind us?"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too. I've missed you."

"Really?" she asked as the breeze blew a lock of hair into her face.

"Yes," he nodded, brushing the hair out of her eyes as his gaze scanned her face. "You have no idea what you do to me."

She smiled. "I'm all ears."

"How about lips," he said, tilting his head down and kissing her before she could answer.

It had been too long. She whimpered into his mouth as lightning shot through her veins. She leaned back as he pressed forward, stretching his torso over to her side of the car, bracing his hand on the passenger door and delving into the kiss as she surrendered back into her seat. Lips and tongues and quiet moans under panting breaths rekindled the flame that had been too long ignored in favor of egos and all around mayhem.

The sound of a horn from a passing car reminded them that they were sitting on the side of a public highway. The General pulled out of the kiss, looming over her for a moment to say, "We'll go home now."

Emmy always forgot what that look in his eyes did to her insides until she saw it again. "Yes," she whispered.

The General settled back into his seat and started the engine, peeling out onto the pavement and doing his Jedi best to control the car on the winding road while greatly exceeding the speed limit on the way toward home. But there was something too fierce and too intimate electrifying the air between them to waste any more time or deal with encountering others.

He smiled when he saw the rough turn-off, deciding if the Triumph could go there, the Mercedes could, too. Emmy raised an eyebrow at him as he swung her car off the road onto the 'driveway' that was nothing more than indistinct tire tracks in the tall grass. When she saw the clearing beyond the trees, she wondered just how many of these little hideaways he had scoped out.

The instant the car came to halt, her seatbelt flew off. She yanked her skirt up to give her good knee traction, and climbed into his lap with his arms trying to assist her in avoiding the gear shift and emergency brake. But with her purple bruise from the other night's activities, what were a few more bumps going to matter?

The General and the Diva continued their ardent appreciation of each other, lips sliding, tongues entwining, bodies grinding together in the small confines of the driver's seat. But when he pushed her back into the car horn for the third time, Emmy finally made her move.

She placed her hand on his chest and pushed away, reaching down and opening the driver's side door.

"Wha...what are you doing?" he asked breathlessly as she climbed off his lap and stood on the ground next to him, holding the door open.

Emmy smiled. "Get out of the car."

As soon as he was out of his seat, she scooted around him, bending down to find the seat lever, and then she jumped into the back seat, turning and sitting behind the passenger seat. She grinned and then reclined back, kicking off her shoes. And then she stopped breathing when his fiery green eyes raked over her as he quickly removed his belt, tossing it in the driver's seat.

He prowled into the back seat toward her. Moving far too slowly for her taste. Sensing her impatience, he smiled. "Just a moment," he said. "There is something I wanted to do earlier."

"Oh?"

He reached down to her ankles, scooping the soft fabric of her skirt in his hands, raising it slightly and then slipping his fingers underneath. He slid them slowly up her calves, over the curve of her knees, and then continued up her thighs.

She shivered at his heated touch. "Okay," she gasped. "That's a good thing to do."

He chuckled softly, looking up into her eyes as his hands slowly caressed up and down her soft legs. It always surprised him how she had this ability to entrance him with the mere flicker of an eyelid or a nibble of her lower lip.

Then she yanked her skirt up above her knees. "Now come here," she ordered, grabbing his head and pulling him to her in another hungry kiss. "We can play later," she whispered against his lips, reaching down to unfasten his pants.

"What do you call this?" he asked with a smile, his face suddenly flashing to an altogether different expression when she reached into his trousers.

"Getting down to business," she said, his arms lifting her slightly off the seat, pressing her into the back of it as he moved between her legs.

Bodies joined and rocking with fervent ardour, she leaned all the way back, resting her head against the solid, warm surface of the car's exterior while he stretched his torso high above her, providing a lovely exhibition for those birds and bees on the benefits of driving a convertible on a sunny day in the country.

~*~

The happy and semi-sated General and Emmy rode up the long driveway toward the garage as they finally arrived home from that trip to the auto repair shop. The Padwannabe was out waxing his Mustang in the afternoon sun, and Diebin and Caeryn were giving him orders about various tasks he should be doing instead. They stepped out of the way as the General parked Emmy's car and then waited for the two of them to get out to hear whether or not the shop would be able to adequately repair his Corvette.

Stepping quickly around the car with a nod to the others, the General opened Emmy's door and allowed her to step out. Then placing his hands on her shoulders, he hurried her to the building as the others watched with some confusion.

"Well then," the General said as they exited the garage, "I think we need to get right to doing a more...thorough...job."

"Oh, absolutely," Emmy said, waggling her eyebrows at Diebin and Caeryn.

Once they were out of earshot, Diebin smiled. "He's really bad at vague cover stories."

Caeryn smiled. "Yes, he is."

Diebin rolled her eyes. "I mean, it's not like our delicate sensibilities would be offended if he came right out and said, 'Hello, Grrls. No time to chat, we're going to get fully nekkid as quickly and as soon as possible.'"

"What delicate sensibilities?" Caeryn said.

"My point exactly," Diebin said. Then she smiled. "Wow, we're all gettin' some now. Things couldn't be anymore perfect."

"Correction," Caeryn said. "Once we get that bike back, THEN things will be perfect."

Diebin tapped her foot.

Caeryn tapped her foot.

"Okay, maybe I need to get a convertible," Diebin said, marching into the house.

"Yeah, me too," Caeryn said, following close behind.

"Could we get away with buying one for University purposes," Diebin said.

"Well, that's how we buy everything else," Caeryn said.

The two Ho's stopped halfway down the hall when they heard the rumbling of a diesel engine. They peeked out to see a giant semi-truck backing up toward the front door.

"What the?" Diebin asked.

"No clue," Caeryn responded.

The walked quickly to the front door and then gasped with surprise when the driver slid open the back door and the contents were revealed.

"NUTELLA!!" they shouted, bouncing happy circles around each other in the foyer.

And upstairs in Shana's office, sans Shana, two Bots chuckled deviously, the manipulation of the University's finances only a mouse click away, the shipments of Nutella, and therefore the fate of the campus, fully under their control.