Hi Jeanne!

Inspiration hit me the other day (OWCH!  ;) ) and I came up with this
section for Zone #9.  Not entirely sure if I'll keep it, but I wanted your
appraisal.

----------------------------
  [somewhere in there...]

	"Now that wasn't so bad after all, was it?  I told you there wasn't any
reason to worry," Bert grinned at Priss as he leaned against the wall, just
inside her dressing room door.
	"That's easy for you to say," the red-brown eyed singer returned wryly, her
lips twisting in a half-smirk.  "You weren't the one up on stage, hoping
that you weren't going to fall flat on your face in front of the audience."
She was wearing her usual performance attire:  high-heeled boots that came
to her knees, a very short leather miniskirt, a tight leather top with a low
neckline that accentuated her figure, elbow-length leather gloves, and a
blond wig.  Some costume jewelry, bracelets and a necklace, completed the
ensemble.  In short, she looked sexy as hell.
	With a sigh, she reached up and pulled off the wig, dropping it onto its
head-shaped stand on a small side-table.  She stretched a bit, arching her
back as she ran her hands through her natural hair, fluffing it out a bit;
it was almost as hot to wear at times as her hardsuit helmet was.
Straightening up, she began pulling off the costume jewelry, dropping it
into a box on the makeup table.  
	Bert cast a quick glance again around the small, cluttered dressing room,
although there wasn't really all that much to see.  A set of hangers by the
door held her normal clothes, while a small closet in the corner held some
of her skimpy singing costumes.  A small makeup table sat by the wall, in
front of a fairly large mirror with lights around it, and there was the
small endtable that had her wig sitting on it.  A few faded rock posters
were tacked up on the walls, hiding the cracked paint job behind them.
There were even a couple from when 'Priss and The Replicants' had just
started performing.  He glanced briefly from the posters displaying pictures
of a much younger version of the brown-haired singer to the real woman
standing nearby, mentally comparing the differences he could see.
	The most immediately apparent difference, of course, was age:  while Priss
had lost none of her looks in the intervening years, she'd matured both
physically and emotionally, and it had added nothing but allure.  The
energetic enthusiasm displayed in her poster picture was somewhat more
restrained now, the fire still burning brightly, but banked and more under
control.  
	There was also a weight of self-assurance to her now that seemed to be
absent from the photo of her younger self, and he knew that experience was
the main reason for that;  her life hadn't been what would be considered
'normal', even before she'd become a Knight Saber, and she'd had a breadth
of experience that few other people were likely to acquire.  He knew only
the very sketchy outline of her past, since that was one of the things Priss
did not like to talk about.  He'd respected her privacy, and refrained from
asking questions.  In time, if she felt like it, she'd discuss it.      
	Priss closed the lid on the jewelry box, and stretched languorously again,
sighing, her body-hugging leather outfit creaking slightly with the
movement.  Bert flushed guiltily to himself as he caught his eyes roving up
and down her trim, voluptuous curves, and he looked around the room again.
	"There was something I'd always wanted to ask," he spoke up suddenly,
glancing at her wig on its stand, a faint grin flickering across his face;
it was a ridiculous question, but he was feeling whimsical tonight for some
reason.  Priss turned around, stripping off her elbow-length gloves as she
did, a quizzical look appearing on her face.
	"And that is?" she prompted him, tossing the gloves aside onto the makeup
table.  He was unable to keep a smirk from appearing on his face as he
looked at her.
	"Do blondes really have more fun?" he asked innocently.  Priss grinned at
his question, then her grin slipped into a sly smile.  She stepped a bit
closer to him, looking up slightly into his face, still smiling.  There was
a faintly challenging look in the depths of her red-brown eyes as she smiled
lazily at him.
	"I don't know," she replied, noting he was blushing just a bit now.  Her
smile widened as an eyebrow quirked upwards.  "Shall we find out?"
	"Oh?  And what would you suggest?" he asked, unconciously leaning towards
her slightly.  There was an unfamiliar feeling stirring in him, a sort of
shaky, trembling anticipation, although anticipation of what, he wasn't
really sure, or didn't want to admit to himself at the moment.  He was
finding himself in some unfamiliar territory, and he suddenly wondered why
it seemed so hot in the narrow confines of the dressing room.  
	Priss' one arm went around him as she moved right up to him.  She reached
up with her other hand, sliding it around to the back of his head, pulling
him down towards her.  His own arms went around her at the same time.  Her
firmly-muscled body felt very warm against his.   
	"Something like....this?" she breathed, just before kissing him.  Her lips
pressed into his, and his arms tightened around her a bit at their warm,
vibrant feel.  Something stirred inside of him, and he felt a warm flush
spread through his body.  Priss' lips twitched slightly against his as if
she was smiling, and then her lips parted a bit.  The kiss turned into a
very passionate, deep one, and he was beginning to run short of air when she
finally withdrew.
	"Something...like that," he replied a bit hoarsely, breathing heavily.
Priss' breathing also sounded a little heavier than than normal; her shapely
body was still pressed against his, and she was looking up into his face
with an almost seductive gaze, her eyes half-lidded.  He thought he could
feel her trembling a bit, but it was hard to tell exactly, because he was
doing a fair bit of trembling himself.  He swallowed, trying to regain
control of his thundering pulse, and desperately trying to subdue the
feelings that had erupted in him during their kiss.  He felt clumsy and
awkward suddenly, and blushed self-consciously.
	"I'd, uh, better let you get changed," he stammered, grabbing the first
excuse he could think of.  "I'll, uhm, wait outside, okay?"  Priss gazed
into his greenish-brown eyes, a flicker of sly humour suddenly appearing in
hers.
	"Sure you wouldn't like to stay and help me?" she asked teasingly, running
her fingers lightly down the side of his face.
	"Priss!!"  Bert turned bright red, right to his hairline, and she laughed,
although not unkindly.  
	"Okay, I'll meet you outside, but you'd better wait a minute before you
go," she replied, smiling and shaking her head.  She disengaged from him,
turning towards the nearby makeup table.
	"Huh?  Why?" 
	"Because," she said dryly, turning back towards him with a wad of tissues
in her hand.  She reached up and wiped around his mouth with them; he could
see red smears on the white tissues as she took her hand away, tossing them
into the nearby garbage.  "You don't look good wearing lipstick," she
grinned impudently.  Bert flushed again, and irritably swiped at his mouth
with the back of his hand just to make sure there weren't any traces of the
makeup left.  There weren't, and he quickly left, closing the door behind
him.    

<later...>


	"Got anything to drink?" she asked, idly running a hand down the spines of
some of the books lining his bookshelf.  She read a few of the titles as her
fingers brushed across them, shaking her head at the strange mix of science
fiction and fantasy novels.  Scattered among the well worn paperbacks and
hardcovers were a few science and history textbooks, looking incredibly out
of place among the fiction volumes.
	"Anything in particular in mind?" his muffled voice came from under his
kitchen sink, where she could hear him rummaging around for something.
"Tea? Coffee? Something else?"
	"What's in the 'something else' category?" she inquired, turning and
walking over to his kitchenette counter, leaning on her elbows on it.  Bert
surfaced on the other side of the counter across from her, holding a
squarish, dust covered bottle containing an amber coloured liquid.
	"This," he replied, setting the bottle on the counter between them.  "I
usually keep it around for medicinal purposes or special occasions, and I'd
say your getting back onstage counts as a special occasion."  Priss looked
at the bottle, but couldn't read the label, since it was in English.
	"What is it?"
	"Rye whiskey."
	"What the heck kind of 'medicinal purposes' would that have?!"
	"It works great on colds," he replied with a slight grin, shrugging.  "One
stiff jolt of this before bed, and you don't have any problems sleeping at all."
	Priss grinned back.  "Got anything to mix with it?"  He nodded, and got a
bottle of pop and some ice cubes out of the fridge.  Glasses came next from
an overhead cupboard, and he plunked them down on the counter in front of
her.  Priss cocked her head at him curiously.  "How strong did you want it?"
she asked, reaching out and picking up the whiskey bottle.  Bert looked
thoughtful for a moment.
	"Not very," he finally decided.  "I don't drink all that much.  Hardly
ever, in fact, so I'd better take it easy."
	"I'm not a boozer either," she retorted dryly, pouring a small amount of
the liquor into each of the glasses and capping the bottle.  "I just like
having a drink every so often, that's all; it's relaxing, once in a while."
She added pop and ice cubes to the drinks, and slid his across the
countertop to him.  He picked up the glass, and his eyes briefly met hers.
She smiled back at him, and he blushed a bit, as if caught at doing
something he shouldn't have.
	"Come on; it'll be more comfortable sitting down," she advised, jerking her
head towards the couches.  Picking up her glass she turned and walked over
to the couch, carefully sitting down in it.  He followed her a moment later,
coming over to the couch area.  He hesitated a moment, as if trying to
decide on something, then he slowly sank into the cushions next to her. She
sidled a little closer to him, and took a sip of her drink, letting it
slowly roll over her tongue and down her throat, savouring it.  Bert
wordlessly followed suit, and they sat there in companionable silence for a
while, drinking.
	Priss watched him out of the corners of her eyes as she worked her way
through her drink.  His expression indicated his mind was very far away from
them at the moment; he was staring off into space, a faintly wistful look in
his eyes.  She had a good idea of what was preoccupying him; even though it
had been a little over two weeks, he still was feeling the effects from the
rift that had developed between him and Nene.  The red-headed ADP officer
still wasn't saying very much to him; outside of Knight Saber meetings, she
refused to speak with him, and had rejected any attempts at an apology.
Bert was still blaming himself in part for the split, since it had been his
remarks that had started the whole mess.
	What was complicating his guilty feelings over the breakup was the fact
that his attraction to Priss had finally come fully into the open.  The fact
that it had happened very quickly after he and Nene had become estranged was
bound to cause suspicions, and that was what was bothering him; he still had
feelings for Nene, and he didn't want to hurt her.  Unfortunately, given
what had happened since she'd left him, it was going to start looking like
he'd thrown her over and taken up with Priss before long.
	Priss had known that the sense of attraction he'd felt towards her had been
there for a while, although it had been kept very tightly concealed at
times; he hadn't been willing to admit to himself that he did have deeper
feelings for her.  She herself knew how hard that must have been for him,
because she hadn't really admitted to herself until recently that her
feelings for him ran deeper than 'just friends'.  It hadn't been easy for
her, either; she'd always been the tough, independent loner, and admitting
that she was lonely, and....needed ... someone else went against the grain.
She still wasn't entirely comfortable with her feelings, but she was trying
to reconcile them. 
	Ice cubes clinked clinked in her empty glass as she set it over on the
coffee table.  She turned towards him on the couch, folding one leg under
the other, leaning her arm on the back of the couch, and propping her head
on her hand.  She gazed at him quietly for a few moments, but he appeared to
be oblivious.  She sighed quietly, then reached out and gently and took his
empty glass from his hand, setting it over on the coffee table; he didn't
appear to notice.
	Priss shifted to her knees on the couch, and then slowly leaned closer to
him.  His eyes shifted over to meet hers, and she could see a complex tide
of emotions swirling around in them.  She moved a bit closer, her gaze still
locked with his, and watched acceptance of her nearness slowly appear in his
face.  He reached up and gently brushed her hair back out of her face.  She
smiled, then leaned the last few inches over and kissed him, feeling the
first faint stirrings of desire awaken.
	Bert's lips molded to hers as his arms slowly came up, almost reluctantly
this time, and wrapped around her, holding her close.  Priss sighed, and
snuggled a little nearer, her own arms going around his neck.  They sat like
that for a minute or so, enjoying the kiss, then, shifting her one hand to
his chest, Priss began gently pushing him over onto his back on the couch.
She felt him stiffen slightly, surprised, and he pulled his head back from
hers for a moment, licking his lips, a bit nervously, she thought.
	"Uh, Priss?" he queried uncertainly.  "What....what are you doing?"  She
looked into his eyes.  In the greenish-brown depths she could see lurking
traces of fear, and realized that he was still slightly reluctant to admit
to himself that he did want her, and was scared to take the final step.  She
could also feel him shaking just a bit.
	"Do you really have to ask?" she asked softly, looking deeply into his
eyes.  "Come on; you can't deny what you're feeling, not after the way we
kissed back in my dressing room."  Bert flushed; his arms had slid back a
bit, and his hands were on her waist, almost like he was preparing to push
her back.  "If you can sit there and honestly tell me with a straight face
that you don't l... don't have feelings for me, then I'll leave," she
finished.  Bert's eyes turned wild and panicked at her words.
	"No!  I ... I ... I don't want you to leave," he said awkwardly, the words
coming out in a rush at first.  "I do...," he paused for a moment, then
seemed to gather himself, taking a deep breath.  "I am in love with you," he
stated quietly, swallowing, "but I don't think we should...."
	"Is it because of Nene?  You feel like you're cheating on her?"
	"Not .... exactly," he evaded, flushing and clearing his throat nervously.
"I mean, it's not entirely that.  I .... we never..... I never want to hurt
her, but....."
	"Nene's a big girl now," she told him gently, brushing his hair out of his
eyes.  "It may take some time, but she will understand, eventually.  You
can't go around afraid to do anything else, or to be with anyone else
because it might hurt her."  She sighed, a little sadly.  "I realize it
sounds hard, but it's going to happen anyway.  She's mad right now, and
she's going to feel hurt by anything and everything you do, no matter how
small or insignificant it might seem to you at the time."
	"I know, but it's .... it's not just that," he stammered, flushing bright
red.  "I've never .... never..."
	"Never made love to anyone before?" she finished.  He nodded mutely,
looking away from her, embarrassed.  She smiled gently, her hand tipping his
chin back so she could look him in the eye.  "There's nothing to be ashamed
of in that," she told him.  She placed her hands on his chest again, and
shoved him over on the couch, sliding onto him a moment later until she was
laying on top of him, chest to chest.    
	Priss kissed him softly on the lips, sliding her arms around his neck
again.  She felt his arms start to wrap around her, then they stopped.  She
pulled back a bit, looking quizzically down at him.
	"You're...you're sure about this?" he asked weakly.  A slow, sly smile
crept across Priss' face as she lowered her head to his.  She could feel
slight, nervous tremors running through him. 	
	"Trust me; I know what I'm doing," she breathed, just before her lips
fastened onto his again.

-----------------------
Well?  Whaddaya think?


-----------------------------------------------------------------
Bert Van Vliet
[alias SkyKnight, Knight-in-Shining-Armour and generally annoying good guy]
 Die-hard Bubblegum Crisis Fan and writer of really large Fanfics!
 "Trust me.  I know what I'm doing!"