There is a line in an old song that says 'what a difference a day makes, 24 little hours.' If that is true then it just stands to reason that 72 hours could bring a wallop of a change. Even for the strange and hectic lives of Sentinel and Guide, those three days before they hit the road were very, very strange -- even for them.

First, there was The Incident.

In retrospect, Blair should have seen The Incident coming. Something like it was inevitable. Jim had ruefully informed of this after the fact. Despite the Special Forces history and his overall reputation as a bad-ass, Jim Ellison carried a lot of questionable baggage from Vice. The murmuring had not disappeared once the earring was gone. Then, there was Blair at his side with his head full of curls and his pouty lips. For a fair percentage of patrolmen in particular, no amount of adventures with a decidedly feminine dominatrix could sway those who had doubts about the real nature of the bond between the partners. Neither Blair's status as a full-fledged cop nor their closure rate did anything to offset the perception some officers had of both men and their relationship.

Since it's a free country, having such opinions is not against any law or Cascade P.D. rules. Most of these officers who held those beliefs about them would never cross the line and act out in any fashion. But it only takes one disgruntled cop to create an incident. This is especially true when kegs of beer and a hard fought softball game are involved.

The highlight of the Cascade P.D. Annual Picnic was the championship game for the intermural softball season. Major Crimes was up with Simon Banks as coach, Rafe pitching and Henry Brown catching. The opponent was the Southwest Division, a squad of tough patrolmen who worked in a tough neighborhood. Before and during the game, there was a lot of beer. The warm weather made the beer easy to drink. Everyone's spirits were high. It should have been a jovial game. The Major Crimes team sure was happy. Simon was chomping on a cigar and laughing easily. The biggest concern for the team was making sure they got their fair share of suds -- not the score. Even Jim's status on the Disabled List with a strained knee did not dampen the mood.

Once the game got underway, the Detectives realized their opponents weren't as light hearted as Major Crimes was about the game. Simon racheted up the level of competition without breaking their mood. Major Crimes wanted to relax, but they had no intentions of getting waxed. They played hard and still kept their humor. Blair was having a great game at short stop. He had a better arm than anyone expected and he was a fearless competitor. In the last inning, it came down to a play at the plate. Sandburg slid and when the dust settled, he was safe. Major Crimes had won. After lots of hugs and slamming on the back, it was time to shake hands with the other team.

That was when Blair crossed paths with one Officer Stu Wyzycowski, a 15 year veteran who stood at 6'5", a thick neck and a hard stare. Wy-zer, as he was known on the streets was last in line as was Blair. His hand dwarfed that of the young Detective and he squeezed hard.

"Great game, man," Blair laughed while wincing. "And nice grip."

Wy-zer was quite red in the face, but it wasn't just because of the approximately six pitches of quality ale he had imbibed throughout the day. He had recently found out that he had failed to make the promotion list once again. At that point in a patrolmen's career, if he didn't make rank by then it wasn't going to happen. That meant no cushy retirement. There would likely be a job after leaving the force. The struggle would continue in his golden years. Then here was that long haired freak who disgraced himself publicly and was given a gold shield. The freak made more money than he did, and it wasn't sitting well with the beer. Of course, through the amber haze Wy-zer wasn't considering his own culpability in his lack of upward movement in his career. He'd completely forgotten about the brutality charges and other infractions in his jacket that may have made him an unattractive candidate for promotion. At that moment, all of his professional frustrations were aimed at know-it-alls like Detectives in general, and Blair in particular.

Blair had heard him mutter "fuckin' long haired faggot" and thus the open handed blow only caught him with a fraction the force it might have. Even so, Blair was seeing stars when he rolled up onto his feet to face the behemoth. The Guide didn't remember much about the ensuing melee. What was in his mind at the time was taking the huge man down before a) he broke him in half or b)Jim ripped a tendon in his knee killing the idiot. Witnesses claim to have not see the blow that brought Wy-zer down. It was said that the action was a flurry of curls, hands and feet. Then, Wy-zer was on the ground. Those witnesses claim that Blair moved like both the crouching tiger and the hidden dragon. The captains from both sides prevented the mayhem from spreading. Meanwhile, Megan and Rhonda sat on Jim to keep him on the bench. Events happened so fast and it was all handled so well that he picnic itself wasn't disrupted.

Only when the Southwest division cleared out dragging Wy-zer away, was Jim allowed to go to his Guide. The adrenalin had worn off and a shiner was developing. He was glad to allow Jim to take him home then pamper him to within an inch of his life. Heaven had blessed him in having a man with Jim's senses. He had managed somehow to lick and suck him into a mind shattering orgasm without disturbing one of his many, many bruises.

Blair had awakened twice the next morning. The first time was shortly before the alarm was to go off. He smiled and snuggled closer to Jim as he realized that he didn't have to get up any time soon. His limbs were stiff and his face ached, but somehow that was offset by the warm, muscular arms around him. It was easy to drift back to sleep. A lazy day awaited him. Life was good. The second time the Guide awoke Jim was covering him bodily. The embrace was not the usual 'good morning, allow me to introduce you to Jim, Jr.' It was a panicked hold that covered Blair from head to toe.

"Jim?" Blair squeaked wondering what impending doom was about to befall them.

Then he felt the rumble. With a gasp, Blair maneuvered so that he could reach Jim's lips.

"I love you," he murmured.

"Love you, too," Jim replied.

Blair latched onto Jim's mouth and kissed him as though it would be his last time to taste that wonderful mouth. The Detective was startled but responded with considerable heat while the room rumbled loudly and the bed shook. There were sounds of glass breaking and the heavy thud of books hitting the floor and in the distance, car alarms were going off. The quake didn't even last a minute, but it felt like much longer even with the distraction of that hot, sweet kiss. Jim gently pulled back and smiled.

"Did the earth move for you, too?" Blair asked saucily.

Jim canted his hips into Blair's groin to acquaint him with his erection. "Oh, yeah, but I can't do a danged thing about it. Let's move."

The men rolled out of bed and quickly pulled on their sweats and hiking boots. Jim scanned the building as they dressed. He tried flicking on a lamp.

"No power, but I don't think that there is much damage to this building," Jim said. "There are some scared people, but no one seems to be hurt."

"Why don't we split up to check on them and meet downstairs?"

Jim nodded handing him a flashlight.

A half an hour later, both men had made sure that their neighbors were unharmed and had flashlights and radios as well as food and water. Everyone was well situated when Blair's cell phone rang. Jim watched his partner as Simon apologized in advance for calling them in on their day off and considering Sandburg's condition after The Incident. Blair nodded a lot while rolling his eyes at Jim.

"I understand, sir," Blair said. "It's an emergency. We'll report as soon as we can."

Jim motioned for the cell phone and Blair complied.

"Sir, we need to check on Genevieve before we head in. Her part of town has reported heavy damage. We shouldn't be long... thank you," he said. "Let's roll, Chief."

They found Genevieve Arnaud standing in front of her townhouse beside her driver/bodyguard. Her arms were crossed and she was gaping at the building in disbelief. She smiled ruefully as the detectives approached.

"Why didn't the ground just swallow the building up whole?" She asked. "It would have been kinder."

"Are you alright, Mistress?" Blair asked.

She really looked at Blair for a moment. With a gentle touch, she caressed the black bruise beneath his right eye. "Are you alright, pet? Did this happen during the earthquake?"

"Softball game," he replied with a shrug. "But you should see the other guy."

"You should," Jim said. "David felled Goliath. I was proud."

"Perhaps I should see him," she said. There was a dangerous twinkle in her eyes.

"Thaaaat's okay," Blair said. "Let's talk about you. Is there a lot of damage?"

Jim nodded. "There is a lot of damage. I can see it from here. Your place will be red-tagged."

"Would you like us to take you to a hotel?" Blair asked.

She looked at them with unusual panic. Her green eyes seemed huge, and her freckles were more pronounced against her blanched skin. "I-I suppose. The authorities said they couldn't allow me to get my things until tomorrow at the earliest. I do have access to money and some clothes at the club... if that's still standing."

Jim realized that she didn't want to be left alone. All her vitals were elevated and it wasn't from excitement.

"If I may, Mistress," Jim said quietly. "Blair and I would feel better if you stayed at the loft. Our building had no damage and we were assigned to work in the neighborhood."

She sighed then smiled. "If it isn't an imposition."

"We've stayed with you often enough," Jim said. "We would be honored."

"Thank you."

"Does your driver have somewhere to go?" Blair asked.

"Yes," she said. "He has family across town. I've been trying to get him to leave for an hour. Jung-Lee, I'll go with Jim and Blair. You go find your family. Take the car."

He gave a short bow then headed for the car.

Jim gently persuaded Genevieve away from the wreckage and into the truck. Then, while Blair let her into the apartment, Jim went to the storeroom to get some of the camping supplies out for later use if the power didn't come back on.

The Mistress seemed calmer when Jim entered the livingroom. Her smile upon seeing him was genuine.

"I'm fine, my sweets," she said. "You go on and save the rest of the city. I'll make myself at home here."

They did as the Mistress asked plunging themselves into a 12 hour day of checking buildings and looking in on residents. The temblor hand been startling and destructive to property, but there was no loss of life. Jim and Blair ran into a lot of minor injuries. There was nothing worse than a broken arm. The panic factor was high. Thus, they spent a lot of time soothing rankled nerves. That proved more draining than rescue operations. The men were very tired as they reached the loft.

"I wonder how Genevieve is doing," Blair said as they entered the hall way. "I don't think I've ever seen her so freaked out."

Jim cocked his head to one side listening. "She seems fine. But she isn't asleep."

Just then, Mrs. Wilson, who'd lived there for decades popped her head out. "I thought it was you boys," she said. "Will you thank Jenny again for me? She was just a love to me all day."

"She was?" Blair asked.

"Oh, yes. Brought me tea and sandwiches in the afternoon and some lovely stew this evening," she said. "Even made a treat for my kitties."

"We'll thank her, Mrs. Wilson," Jim said. "Why don't you get some sleep. It's been a long day."

"I know, but I've been nervous about all of this," she said.

"Our building is fine," Jim said. "And the power will be on soon."

"Okay, then. I'll be off to bed."

"Goodnight," Jim and Blair said.

They met two other neighbors on the way up to the loft. Each one had praise for their guest who either brought them food and coffee or tea during the day or allowed them use of Jim's camping stove to cook their own food. Jim updated them on the crisis in the hopes that they could get some rest.

There were lovely smells coming from their apartment. Inside, Jim and Blair found Genevieve stirring a pot on the camping stove. The camping coffee pot was steaming.

"Hello," she smiled at them. "I've got some stew warming. And there's coffee."

"Thanks," Jim murmured hugging her to him for a moment. "Have you been cooking all day?"

She shrugged. "I've been warming all day. The news reminded residents about food spoiling in the refrigerator, so I started using up clod cuts and heating what I could."

"The neighbors sure appreciated it," Jim murmured. "I didn't know you could use a camping stove."

"I've learned a lot of things over the years," she said. "But don't ever think that I'll share a pup tent with you two or go out in wading boots. Eat."

After food and cold showers by candlelight, Blair felt like his limbs were made of lead. They had to work the next day, but Jim had managed to talk Simon into allowing them to come in a few hours later than usual. He was grateful for that and for the bed warmers. The Mistress was skittish at the suggestion of sleeping in Blair's old room. Jim had no problem suggesting the big bed. She was smaller than Blair and wouldn't take up much room. The suggestion calmed her. Genevieve took the far side of the bed, Blair was in the middle with Jim nearest the stairs guarding over them. The larger man managed to cuddle them both as they went to sleep. Blair had often had fantasies of a threesome with Genevieve in that bed. His spirit wasn't even willing after that long, hard day. Sleep was the sexiest thing he could think about. The Mistress sighed contentedly molding her back against Blair. She felt wonderful. In fact, having both of those beautiful bodies on either side of him was an incredible way to drift off.

Unfortunately, Blair could not keep that cuddly and safe feeling all day. It evaporated the moment Simon summoned he and Jim to his office. He had that look on his face that meant they were not going to like what he was about to say, because he didn't like it either.

"Officer Wyzycowski is claiming that Blair initiated the altercation," Simon muttered. "And his precinct is backing him up on it."

"That's insane," Jim snapped. "Blair is a well known pacifist -- even with the gun. There's not enough beer in Cascade to make him pick a fight with that huge asshole."

"I know that Jim," Banks sighed. "But none of us saw what happened before Blair hit the ground. And since the asshole is the one who got the worst of it, who do you think I.A. will believe?"

"So let me guess," Jim said darkly. "If Blair drops his complaint, Wyzycowski will too."

Simon held up a letter. "I have the withdrawal right here."

Blair sank onto a chair with a dejected sigh.

"Simon, he can't be allowed to get away with that," Jim muttered angrily. "He assaulted a fellow officer. He has enough in his jacket already that screws his credibility. Why are we going to let this slide?"

"You know why, Jim," Blair said quietly. "How many warehouses in the Southwest have we had to go into with backup from that precinct? All the rank and file knows is that some suit with a gold badge is after one of them. I'm sure they know Wy-zer is an asshole. I know they don't care."

Jim closed his eyes at the sadness in his partner's voice. Blair was right. He had a very good handle on this closed society. Truth be told, he also knew that they had been very lucky that this problem hadn't come up sooner. It didn't make it any easier to swallow. Jim met Blair's gaze then nodded.

"I'll write the letter right now," Blair said.

"I'll deal with the Captain at Southwest," Simon said. "Okay, now to the other thing."

It was Jim's turn to sink into a chair. "What other thing?"

"Your buddy, Special Agent Nelson, has submitted a request for you and Blair to attend The FBI National Academy at Quantico," Banks replied. "It seems the FBI has gotten over your part in that escaped convict thing."

"Wow," Jim said while scanning the letter. "I thought he'd invite us for the seminars on profiling. This is the whole eleven week course."

"It's an honor for two great Detectives and this department," Banks said. "It would be helpful for law enforcement in this whole region to have someone that highly trained to handle our stranger cases."

"It also gets us out of the way while this Wy-zer mess dies down," Jim said sardonically.

"Frankly, yes. But you deserve to go," Banks said. "The Chief has approved it."

"When would we leave?" Blair asked.

"In two days."

Blair took Jim's hand. "Jim, it's a great opportunity. You know that Dennis wanted us to lecture about the Lifestyle, and we could learn so much. Don't think of it as running."

Blair was right. And all that time would give frayed nerves on both sides time to heal. He had been fearing an escalation of tension with the patrol officers over The Incident. This way, he wouldn't have to worry about protecting his Love from his fellow officers.

"We'll finish up what we can then, divide up our case load," Jim said. "I'll call Agent Nelson today."

The rest of the day was so busy that the couple hardly had time to think. They closed what cases they could, then began to spread the rest amongst the rest of the Major Crimes detectives. Agent Nelson was very happy to hear that they were coming. He had held the two slots open specifically for them. And he was still very interested in devoting part of the curriculum to the BDSM lifestyle.

Meanwhile, the city was returning to normal after the earthquake. Power had been restored before sunrise that morning. When they left, Genevieve was on the phone making arrangements to have her townhouse renovated. Upon their return, the Detectives found out that it would be at least eight weeks before the townhouse is repaired. Blair felt terrible announcing that they were going to leave for nearly three months, but the Mistress surprised them once more.

"I'll go with you to Washington DC," she said. "I haven't been there in ages."

"But Mistress," Jim said. "We'll be in classes all day."

"I know, pets. I'll have more than enough to amuse myself," she said. "I'll see you when you can. Though I should think you'll want to stay with me at a fine four star hotel."

"Well, who wouldn't?" Blair said. "But why do you think that's better than the police dorm."

"Aside from the obvious amenities, there's your relationship. How are you going to cope living what is essentially a lie around all those constables in such close quarters for such a long period of time?" She replied. "Why torture yourself? Aren't the dorms only to keep the cost down to your departments?"

"True," Jim said.

"We'll the suite is on me, pet," she replied. "Think about it."

Jim did think about it all through the evening. He thought about how hard it was for him not to touch Blair whenever he wanted to or needed to as it was while they worked. He thought about how hard it was for Blair to not look at him with unguarded emotions. Their home had been a sanctuary where they could be with one another without worrying about whose eyes were upon them. Eleven weeks of being on their guard even off duty would be very hard to bear. He looked at his Guide over the dinner table. Blair's expression mirrored his.

"How can we explain where we are living?" Blair asked softly.

Genevieve rolled her eyes. "I am a valuable informant. Washington DC is a dangerous place of international intrigue. You have to look after me."

Blair and Jim looked at each other then shrugged. It seemed to be a long shot considering the expense and the high profile. But the Mistress had a wonderful habit of getting exactly what she wanted.

"The Ritz Carlton it is," the Mistress smiled.

In the end, it was Agent Nelson who smoothed over the living arrangement controversy. He extended an invitation to Genevieve to help Jim and Blair with the Lifestyle lecture. He suggested to Cascade's Chief of Police that she would need protection while there. That and Genevieve's offer to offset the cost was enough to quell any trepidation. Though that part of the arrangement was kept in extreme confidence. Even Simon was under the impression that the Feds were footing the bill for the hotel. He explained to Jim that after arranging for the wolf to attend, the Mistress was relatively easy. Jim decided not to ask.

Thus, in a span of seventy two hours Jim and Blair went from an annual picnic through an earthquake to an eleven week seminar steeped in luxury. That was pretty strange, but both men were certain that things would get stranger.

They arrived in the very early morning that Friday. There was to be a cocktail party for the attendees that evening. Despite being pampered in first class (Genevieve looked at Jim and Blair as if they had lost their minds when they presented her with an economy class airline ticket, then she upgraded all of them) none of them slept on the flight. For Genevieve, it was the cap of a week with very little sleep. Blair noted that the Mistress barely noticed the opulence of the two bedroom suite. Jim noticed as well.

"Why don't you unpack us, Chief?" Jim said. "I'll settle Genevieve."

Jim looped an arm around her waist then steered her into the bedroom. She mumbled at him as he undressed her. By the time he'd turned back the covers, she was sound asleep.

"I guess anyone would be thrown by the earth shaking," Jim murmured as he put her under the covers. "I was, too."

He caressed her brow then quietly left the room.

Blair was just finishing with their clothes when Jim entered their room. It was decorated with the same very tasteful opulence as the rest of the suite. The rooms were not like those in Vegas which sort of scream 'hey I'm really pricey.' They whispered their wealth in fabrics that were wonderful to touch and colors that were very pleasing to the eyes. It would be easy for anyone -- even Jim -- to get used to these surroundings.

"I've never seen her so wasted," Blair said. "I guess being on ground that's not likely to move finally allowed her to sleep."

"She hasn't had more than a few hours sleep at a stretch since the quake," Jim said. "I know how she feels. I swear I could feel every shift for days after."

"You still aren't ready to really rest," Blair observed. "I can feel how wound up you are even thousands of miles from Cascade."

Jim nodded quietly.

"You need to focus on something that will empty your mind. I need something that will relax me," Blair said quietly. "Did you bring the bath supplies?"

Jim closed his eyes for a second while taking a deep breath. "Of course."

"Run us a bath then," Blair said. "The tub is big enough for two. Take your clothes off first."

"Yes," Jim sighed complying with practiced ease.

He could feel Blair watch him strip. His gaze was hot and intent, but he did not move. Jim took that to mean he was to strip Blair as well. That suited him just fine. The tasks were completed efficiently. The tub was filled; the toiletries were set up and the room was arranged to their liking all while Jim was naked and with Blair's intense blue eyes upon him. The tension seeped out of his body as each of the tasks was performed. The past week was forgotten and the next weeks were irrelevant by the time Jim had his lover naked and in the steamy, fragrant water. All that existed was the beautiful man half floating in front of him blissfully enjoying a scalp massage.

Blair moaned as Jim carefully rinsed the short, soft curls. "Oh, man. The knot in my neck is gone. And I can't hear your jaw cracking."

Jim laughed softly. "What is your pleasure?"

"Let's soap up, rinse off and get some sleep."

"As you wish."

By the time they left the bathroom, Jim barely had the strength to check on Genevieve, lock down the suite and leave a wake up call. Blair was snoring softly when Jim molded himself around that warm body.

Six hours of deep, peaceful sleep was enough to refresh the trio. Genevieve was bounding in to rouse them before the wake up call. Blair opened his eyes to her smiling face at the foot of the bed.

"Four poster beds in both rooms -- how delicious!" she smiled.

Blair sat up blinking muzzily. "Like you didn't plan that."

"True," she admitted. "But you never know what Muffy or Buffy at the front desk will assign you."

Her focus shifted to Jim who was still dozing..

"He is so beautiful," she murmured. "Kiss him, fair prince."

"My pleasure," Blair replied softly. He leaned down to gently kiss his lover's slightly parted lips. Jim moaned into Blair's mouth while bringing his arms around for a close embrace.

The phone rang. Genevieve muttered in Mandarin at it then answered.

"Oh, hello Dennis," she smiled sitting alongside Jim. Blair gently ended the kiss then pulled away.

"Yes, they'll be there... me? Oh, I had no idea... you really think it's wise... well, it's your party. I've got to run if I'm to be ready in time. Here's Jim," she said.

Genevieve hurried off in a flurry of red silk.

"Hey Dennis," Jim said huskily.

"Er, I hope I wasn't interrupting anything," Dennis sputtered.

"No, we were just catching a nap -- red eye, you know," Jim replied.

"Sure thing. Look, I have directions and a map to the pub," he said. "I can fax them to the front desk."

"Hey, we have a fax in the room," Jim smiled. "Lemme give you the number."

Jim read the number off the machine. He chuckled as he caught a glimpse of flying red silk from the next room. "You like to live dangerously, Dennis. The Mistress at your social."

"Maybe I've been bored since my last trip to Cascade," he sighed. "You guys are a tough act to follow. Maybe I think the students need to see someone in the lifestyle who is a centered happy person."

"And she's gorgeous," Jim said.

"That makes her a great ambassador for her practices. I think the attendees will be more open having met her."

"And any mayhem will be a bonus."

Dennis laughed. "I'm not answering on the grounds that it may incriminate me. See you in a few hours."

Jim hung up the phone then kissed Blair briefly. "Whatever the pair of you had in mind for me will have to wait. It looks like we're in for one crazy evening."

The social was held at a cop bar near Georgetown. The place was almost full by the time they arrived which was only twenty minutes late. Cops love an open bar and free buffet, Blair had observed. And Genevieve had to make an entrance. She looked lovely in black silk pants and a black silk tank top accented with a black leather belt and strappy sandals. Her hair was pulled back in a thick braid. Her jewelry was understated as was her make-up, but that was all she needed to do. As always, the Mistress was very alluring. Jim and Blair were elegantly casual in pleated pants and silk knit tees. Jim wore olive colored pants and a cream colored tee. Blair wore black pants and a gray tee. Quite a few heads were turned when they walked in, but they soon became distracted in their own tall tales and the refreshments. Agent Nelson found them as they reached the bar.

"Hello and welcome," he said with a big smile. "And thank you for attending, Genevieve."

"My pleasure. Is your wife here?" Genevieve asked.

"Unfortunately, no. Emily hates these things," Nelson sighed. "Says there's too much testosterone."

"As if that's possible," Genevieve laughed. "I insist that we have lunch at some point."

"Sure, but not at anything five star. I won't be able to keep up," Nelson said.

"If we must," she sighed. "Now, you boys go play. I can tell that our host wants to show you off."

"Can I get you anything first?" Jim asked softly.

"When you have a moment," she replied. "Meanwhile, I'll see if there is anything at the bar that appeals to my palate."

She turned and headed for the bar. Jim and Blair turned to Agent Nelson with a shrug.

"Let me introduce you to some of the instructors,"he said.

Genevieve sauntered over to the bar then slid onto a stool. She scanned the selections of wine and found nothing of interest. There were only low end domestic wines. She had hoped for a Coppola. There were a lot of Italian cops, after all. There were some good cognacs, but she wasn't in the mood for that. Then she spotted the Campari.

The bartenders were very busy with the waitresses and thirsty officers, but the Mistress was undaunted. She fixed a stare at the nearest male. Moments later, he turned and hurried over.

"Do you know how to make a negroni?" She asked.

The young man blushed. She headed him off before he reached a full sputter.

"It's an ounce of Campari, and ounce of gin and an ounce of sweet vermouth mixed in a shaker and poured over ice with a twist of lemon zest," she said crisply.

He fumbled a bit, but made what looked like a passable cocktail. Genevieve sipped it tentatively.

"Bien. Very good," she said. "Your job is to observe my glass. If it is nearly empty, inquire as to whether I want another. I also require a glass of chilled mineral water."

"Yes, ma'am."

Genevieve smiled at him as he stumbled to comply. She slid him a twenty for his enthusiasm.

"Is dat what I need to do to get some attention?" a husky voice muttered from her right.

The speaker was blond about Jim's age. His face was an interesting but attractive balance of angles and planes. The eyes saved his face from cynicism. They were large and a stormy blue with beautiful blond lashes. Those eyes made him vulnerable. He had a nice mouth as well - masculine but sensual. His body was lean and lithe in those low slung jeans, ribbed knit shirt and leather jacket. There was a lot of energy vibrating off of him -- even more than Blair kept in check.

"No, that was a reward," she replied. "I get his attention this way."

Genevieve stared at the young bartender. Once again, he was there in seconds.

"What will you have..."

"R-Ray," the man stammered at her smile. "My name is Ray."

"Sweetie, give Ray whatever he wants."

"I'll have a Sam Adams and a mineral water on ice," he said. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she replied. "Tell me, do you have a chaser with your beer?"

"No," he chuckled as he slid the bartender a twenty as well. "It's for my friend. Here he comes."

The friend was tall and as dark as Ray was blond and was a beefier build. The man had thick dark hair and classically handsome features and remarkable blue eyes. His mouth was almost as sinful as Blair's. His posture and deportment was impeccable. Genevieve instantly wanted him naked right next to his companion. She smiled at him placidly as he approached. Then, she smiled at the wolf that sat at her feet with a happy yip.

"Well, hello, Cherie," she said to the wolf.

He yipped again with a vigorous wag of his tail.

"Well, this is a surprise," Ray commented. "Normally, Dief would be all over someone who made him wag like that."

"He knows that while I like wolves, I don't tolerate them on my silk pants," she commented dryly.

"Dief always respects authority," the friend said.

"This is my partner, Benton Fraser," Ray said.

"I'm Genevieve Arnaud."

"My pleasure, Ms. Arnaud," Benton said extending his hand. "I take it that you are from Hong Kong."

"Yes, I am," she said. "And you are from Canada."

"Right you are."

"A Mountie," Genevieve almost purred. "How did you come to be with such a fine specimen of mid-western law enforcement?"

Ray blushed at her sideways appraisal.

"Oh, now there is a story," Benton said with a smile.

Meanwhile, Blair and Jim had found the buffet table. Jim snagged a plate then loaded it with cheeses and fruit, veggies and some dark bread.

"For Genevieve?" Blair asked.

Jim smiled. "Of course. I'm going to take it over."

The Sentinel gracefully dodged and wove his way across the room to the bar where the Mistress held court with a pair of attractive cops and the wolf that had caused Dennis Nelson so much trouble. He placed the plate at her elbow without interrupting what appeared to be an odd and involved story.

"I first came to Chicago on the trail of the man who murdered my father," the dark haired man was saying.

By the time Jim arranged the plate, the utensils and the napkin, he understood that the man was a Mountie somehow attached to the Chicago PD. That begged the question of how he came to be studying with the FBI, but Blair and Dennis were signaling to him. The Mistress squeezed his elbow in thanks as he left.

Ten minutes later, Jim realized that the waitresses weren't getting to them. Blair was talking to the FBI Forensic Anthropologist who was due to speak in week three while Nelson was chatting with two LA cops. Jim took the opportunity to slip back to the bar for beers for him and Blair as well as to check on the Mistress.

The Mountie was saying something about his partner Ray not being Ray. In the time it took for Jim to be ignored by the bartender, Genevieve to notice and direct one to him to get his drinks, he's heard about Ray who wasn't Ray and the Mountie on a replica of the HMS Bounty and an adventure to find some famed explorer. The only thing that didn't make Jim's head spin was the statement that since odd cases seemed to find the pair, the extra training in DC might serve them well.

"That is an amazing story," she said as Jim gathered the beer bottles -- four in all to cut down on the repeat trips.

"He's got it down to only twenty minutes," The blond Ray said. "It used to take days."

Jim didn't doubt that. For the life of him, Jim couldn't figure out why the Mistress was still listening to them. It was obvious to him that they were nuts. But then, there were a large number of people in Cascade who thought the same about Jim and Blair. He shrugged it off heading back to Blair. The spares were confiscated in short order by others who didn't want to wait for waitresses.

Jim chatted with the Forensic Anthropologist and found him to be very interesting, but his mind was still on Genevieve. He knew that she could handle herself anywhere, but he just didn't feel right leaving her to her own devices like that. Blair made eye contact with him and seemed to read his thoughts. Then, his clever partner gracefully maneuvered them back to the bar without anyone noticing the effort. The wolf immediately trotted over to sit at Blair's feet.

"Hey there," Blair smiled kneeling down. He received a thorough face wash and nuzzling. "I like you, too."

"I've never seen him do that," Fraser said puzzled.

"I'm a little jealous," Ray said.

So am I, Jim thought. "Blair is a kindred spirit."

"Enough about us," Ray was saying his attention back to Genevieve. "What's your story? Are you Hong Kong exchange?'

"In a manner of speaking," Genevieve replied. "Though it has gone on longer than I anticipated."

"Understood," Benton said in a dry tone. Ray glared at his partner but there was no mistaking the mirth in the Mountie's blue eyes.

"Do you know a lot of the cops here?" Ray asked.

"No," Genevieve replied.

"But yer chummy with Agent Nelson," he pressed.

"I suppose."

"Maybe you could tell me who the cops are that were with that Domin...Domin...."

"Domintatrix," Benton offered then blushed at the word.

Genevieve smiled at him making the blush go deeper.

"Yeah. The whole dorm is talkin' about 'dem," Ray said glancing about. "I can't peg any of these guys as the types 'dat like gettin' beat for fun."

"Ray," Benton warned as he carefully considered Genevieve.

"And what kinda woman does that?"

"Ray..." Benton said with more exasperation as he noticed the gazes from Jim and Blair.

"I mean how do you write up a report on an assignment like that..."

"Ray, Ray... Ray!"

The blond hung his head. "I know, Frase. I know. But once I got rollin' you know how hard it is to stop."

"I could help you with that," Genevieve said softly. "Think about it."

A strange look passed between the two men. Ray clamped his mouth shut. Benton nodded at her.

"We have monopolized your time for long enough," the Mountie said. "We should mingle."

"As you wish," she replied. "And it was my pleasure."

"Ray... Dief."

The Mistress smiled after them as the odd trio made their way across the room.

"I think they have thought about it," Blair commented.

"Hmmmm," she replied. "And you two thought I would be bored."

"Detective Sandburg? Detective Ellison?" a voice inquired from behind them.

They turned to find Detectives Briscoe and Logan smiling at them.

"Small world, huh?" Briscoe asked. "How are you?"

Jim shook their hands. "I'm good as new. Thanks."

Blair shook their hands as well. "I didn't think you'd be into this sort of police work."

"My partner is, and I figured maybe they can teach this old dog a new trick," Briscoe said. "Oh, Ms. Arnaud. Good to see you as well."

"Thank you. And how is that darling Jack McCoy?" She asked.

Green sputtered.

"We don't belong to the same social circles, but he seemed to be okay the last time I saw him," Briscoe replied.

"Do tell him that I asked after him and that my offer to come out and play still stands," she said.

Green's eyebrows went up to his hairline. Briscoe broke into a huge grin.

"I'll make sure I do that as soon as I return to New York," he said. "I'd do it tonight, but I think this invitation should be made in person."

They excused themselves and wandered off chuckling amongst themselves.

Jim noticed that things were beginning to wind down. He also noticed that both Blair and Genevieve were running out of steam.

"I think we've made enough of an appearance," he said. "We can go any time."

"Suits me, man," Blair said yawning.

"I'd like a word with Agent Nelson before we say our goodbyes," Genevieve said.

She slipped off the stool then wended her way through the crowd with easy grace. Jim watched intently as Nelson inclined his head thoughtfully while she spoke.

"Don't do it, Jim," Blair whispered. "He won't put her in danger and she won't embarrass you."

"I know that," Jim replied turning from them to look at Blair. "She's still not quite herself, Chief. Normally, she would have been all over a room like this."

"She seemed to be enjoying those Chicago cops," Blair said noticing that they still watched her from across the room.

"True, but she's off somehow."

"It's probably the fatigue from the travel and the days before the trip," Blair replied. "Don't mother her. She'll be punishing us the whole stay."

Jim sighed then sipped his beer.

"That's it man," Blair said quietly. "Relax. Here they come now."

"Thanks for coming out," Nelson said. "I know you were tired."

"I'm glad we did," Jim said. "Looks like a lively group."

Nelson sighed. "It always is when cops are away from home. Being a dorm monitor is worst than running Animal House."

"I can imagine," Jim said drily.

"I'll see you guys first thing on Monday," Nelson said. "And Genevieve, we'll talk soon."

An hour later, the suite was quiet. Genevieve had excused herself with a big yawn as soon they closed the door. Blair started stripping as soon as he reached the room. Jim was neater about his clothes, but wasn't up much longer than it took to check the door locks and get out of his clothes. He was asleep quickly, but didn't stay that way for long. Aside from the strange bed and sounds in an around the hotel, there was his Guide. Blair was very restless beside him. After a big flurry of tossing and turning, there was a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry," Blair whispered.

"Don't be," Jim replied. He sat up to pour them water from the pitcher nearby.

Blair sipped the water. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Hey, the strange bed was bothering me. Not to mention the noises," Jim said.

"It's not that... well, not just that," Blair said running an hand through his head. "I had a really, really great time tonight."

"And that made you restless?"

"No," he laughed softly. "I realized tonight that I've really been enjoying the work we've been doing. I've loved it more than I ever thought I would. Then, tonight I began to see how my studies can open up what we do to even more possibilities. The thought was very exciting."

Jim gently massaged his shoulders. "I'm not hearing anything bad here, Chief. What's bothering you?"

"Guys like Wy-zer," Blair sighed. "How many of them are out there? Is the incident with him ever going to be over? Will the next one get us killed? Why can't we just do our thing and be left alone?"

"Oh, Blair," Jim whispered pulling his lover into a strong embrace. "It's never easy for us is it? But then, how cushy was it for the primitive Sentinel and Guide?"

"Point taken," Blair chuckled. "Those tribes were almost always at war. No Jags and beer for them."

Jim was glad to hear Blair laugh. "It is always going to be rough in patches for us, Chief. You were right about us attending this seminar. Eleven weeks will make us old news and more valuable to the brass. Besides, by the time we get back, Wy-zer may have finally done something to get himself fired."

"I can hope," Blair said.

"He's close. If you'd pressed charges, that would have done it," Jim said. "His jacket is pretty bad. He may be gone by the time we get back."

"Here's hoping," Blair murmured.

Jim took their glasses then pushed Blair back onto the mattress. "He is a waste of our time, Babe. Our minds and... bodies should be elsewhere."

"Like..." Blair purred.

Jim responded with his hot mouth sucking at the curve between Blair's neck and shoulder. The question was forgotten. If he had wanted to, Jim could have used that tongue to make him forget all about the earthquake. He was using it on his very sensitive nipples at that point. Blair wanted to participate, but he was being held down by Jim's heavy limbs.

"Jim!" He gasped.

"Uh-uh, just let me," Jim whispered against his navel.

"But you did last time," Blair moaned.

Jim chuckled against his groin making Blair jump. "Keeping track, Chief?"

Blair was prevented from answering by a long lick up his erection.

"I know you and the Mistress will likely torture me for most of this trip," Jim murmured between lengthy laves of that rigid shaft. "So for now and until you slip those shackles on me, I'm going to enjoy my favorite dessert and take your mind off of Wy-zer once and for all."

Jim took Blair deep in his mouth and worked him until his lover bowed off the bed gasping his name. Jim cleaned him lovingly with that tongue then pulled the covers over them both. Blair snuggled into Jim as soon as he settled in behind him. Soon they were asleep.

By eleven am Monday morning, Genevieve knew that Jim and Blair were three hours into their orientation for the seminar. Meanwhile, she was enjoying a well earned glass of wine on a flight bound for Boston. Forgotten was the pleasant weekend spent in the hotel spa and the cute boutiques and restaurants in DC that filled her weekend while the boys took in the historical sights. This morning was rough and the rest of the day didn't look like it would be any easier.

She sipped her wine thoughtfully. In an hour, Jim would find out where she was going from Agent Nelson. He was not going to be happy, but she was confident that Dennis and Blair could calm him down. She had her cell phone as well as an FBI pager and panic button. Her destinations were filled with internal security. She would be fine, physically. Jim would just have to brood until she returned.

Poor Agent Nelson. She had leaned on him quite a bit to pull this off shaking him both sexually and professionally. On some levels, Genevieve realized that she may have been hard on him. But the FBI agent had been no shrinking violet in this exchange. There were moments when he thought him capable of shaking her like she was a spoiled child during their raw and heated discourse before her trip. But the Mistress would not allow that no matter how extreme her requests seemed to be. She wasn't an addle headed romantic school girl. Dennis did not have to show her those horrible photographs from the case files. She could see what Chris Keller had done when she looked in his eyes. She had no doubt that he had killed those poor young men who'd desired him. She strongly suspected that the killing had not stropped with there. She knew he was capable of murdering everyone in that townhouse if the circumstances had been right.

They had quite a go round, she and Nelson. She couldn't fathom how the Agent could claim to understand what had motivated the killings and that he did not necessarily advocate the death penalty while still insisting that Keller was no more than an animal who did not deserve her compassion. But Genevieve had read Nelson's books. She had exasperated him by pointing out that Keller had taken responsibility for at least some of his actions -- something that some of his most famous cases still had not done. And Keller had finally begun to think about the feelings of another. His feelings for Beecher clearly demonstrated that. Genevieve hammered at him pointing out that for those who had committed the horrors Keller was accused of, sudden empathy would bring overwhelming guilt and sorrow. She did not seek to belittle what he had done. She sought to let him know there were still those who wanted compassion for the human being that was trying to surface. Her trump was to point out that Keller may, in this state of empathy, feel something for his victims families. Kindness could bring that confession Nelson craved.

She had him then. Genevieve could tell by the escalation of his frustration. His consent came shortly thereafter. But there were conditions like the pager and the panic button. Then there was the tape recorder. Nelson had insisted that she record the whole visit. Genevieve refused that. She did, however, tell him that she would encourage Keller to provide the families with closure. Having looked into the regret in his eyes, the Mistress was certain that he could give Nelson what he wanted under the right circumstances. Two hours after they reached an agreement, Genevieve was on a plane.

The driver she had hired was waiting as she cleared the jetway. Beside him was one Special Agent Bill Austin of the Boston FBI office. He was there to facilitate the visit and undoubtedly check for the pager and panic button. He had a bland face and personality and obviously did not want to attend to this errand. They were both relieved at that she had her own transportation, thus they could part company as soon as possible.

Genevieve didn't know how long they drove. She had been staring blankly at the countryside zipping by when her cell phone rang.

"Stop clenching your jaw, Cherie," she said upon answering.

"Mistress..." Jim said with quiet urgency.

"Jim, I am perfectly fine," Genevieve said tiredly. "And I have had quite enough of being treated like a child."

"My apologies. I just wish I had known about this plan earlier," he replied in a carefully even tone.

"So I could watch you brood for days and allow you to try to persuade me not to go?" She asked mildly. "Eleven weeks can be a very long time if I am unhappy."

Jim laughed softly. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm very concerned about you and not just for your physical safety. You've been so... fragile and they made you so sad before."

Genevieve softened a little. "I know. It will be a difficult thing to do, but I promised."

There was a long silence. "I understand. Please, be careful."

"I shall," she said. "Study hard. I'll be back tomorrow."

A short while later, the car pulled into the parking lot of a dull gray institution. Because of Agent Austin, she only had to endure a cursory search of her tote bag and purse before being shown into an interview room where inmates met with their attorneys. Moments later, Chris Keller was ushered into the room shackled at the wrists and ankles. He sat down and quietly stared at her while the guard released him from the heavy bonds. There was incredulity in those intense gray-blue eyes.

"Agent Nelson must have a real thing for you," he drawled once they were alone. "You fuckin' him?"

Genevieve gasped narrowing her eyes. "Don't you take that tone with me, Chris Keller. And don't be impertinent. I've had too long a day for your nonsense."

"How did you get permission for this visit?" He demanded softly.

"The Feds owe me a lot, Chris," she replied drily. "For more than they can repay. And Agent Nelson had his own price."

She shoved the taped recorder onto the table. Keller glared at her.

"I told him that there would only be a recording if you felt compelled to make one," she said. "He seemed to think I could influence you to make one someday."

"Jesus, Mistress. You into saving souls, too?"

"Oh, you do need to be reminded of the rules of deportment around me," she snapped. "I'm keeping a promise."

"Toby shouldn't have asked..."

"Idiot!" Genevieve snapped. "I'm keeping my promise to you."

Keller looked puzzled. "I asked you to look after Toby."

"And you think that is possible at all when you won't answer his mail?" She replied. Genevieve opened her tote bag and took out a large sandwich on thick slices of what looked to be fresh bread and a large Styrofoam cup.

"Here. I brought you this lovely lobster club sandwich and white peach lemonade."

Keller accepted the food but didn't open any of it. He still looked concerned over her last statement.

"Tell me about Toby."

"I contacted that Sister Peter Marie and asked her to keep in regular touch about Toby," she replied. "Since his parole was denied, he has been on a downward spiral. If there is not some sort of intervention, the sister believes he will have to be removed to solitary or a mental hospital."

Keller's jaw dropped. "McManus is insane... or Toby..."

"Has a death wish?" Genevieve offered. "That's what the sister thinks."

Keller hung his head.

"Eat your sandwich," she said. "It's something you can share."

"Share? What are you talking about?"

Genevieve pushed a pad of paper and a pen towards him. "Eat. Then write. Talk about the sandwich. Talk about anything."

Keller was quiet for a while. "I thought he'd get parole for sure. I thought he could put everything behind him."

"And you think his being free would make him forget about you?

"What would he still want with me?" Keller wondered genuinely puzzled. "Crazy Beecher..."

"Maybe he still wants the one person who fell in love with him for just who he is -- not an image of who he is supposed to be," she replied. "He wants someone for whom he doesn't have to play a role. Don't analyze this. Be thankful for it and fight to keep it. Even if you never touch physically, you both need each other."

Keller thought about it, his brows knitted. Then he sighed and opened the sandwich and took a bite. His eyes slid closed and his nostril flared.

"Jesus..." he sighed. "You want some?"

Genevieve shifted as that husky voice hit a nerve that went right to her crotch. She had always loved what his voice could do to her. She regretted anew all that wasted potential. Keller was watching her with a knowing expression.

"I'll enjoy you enjoying," she said giving herself a mental shake.

Keller grew quiet as he enjoyed his meal. He loved the lemonade as well if his face was any indication.

"So where are Detective hairline and Blair?"

"They're at profiling school in DC," she replied. "I'm staying with them there."

"I bet they're thrilled you're here," he said while languidly licking dressing off his fingers.

Genevieve had to concentrate hard on the words and not his tongue. She recalled that he had quite a talented tongue.

"They'll cope," she said.

He smiled at last. "Blair would be a good profiler. He sees a lot. Has a way of making a person open up. Tell him hi from me and that I miss him."

Genevieve smirked at him. "And be sure I tell him in front of Jim, no doubt."

He shrugged taking up the pad and pen. Three pages were filled in very short order. As he wrote, Genevieve took another package out of the tote bag. It was a pile of sealed letters tied in a beautiful red ribbon. As he signed the bottom of the fourth page, Genevieve pushed the pile towards him as he pushed the pad towards her.

"Sister Pete sent me the letters. It seemed that the letter carrier was talking a lot of delight in returning them to Toby. She had them sent to her to stop it," Genevieve said.

"Letter carrier... fuckin' Vern," Chris muttered. "I should have thought about that."

"Well, think about it now and read the letters," she said. "Then answer them."

"I don't know if I can handle what he wrote," Chris admitted fingering the ribbon.

"There is a lot of pain in those pages," she agreed. "But whenever you care about more than your own belly button, you will run into some pain. Share yours with him. That's what lovers do. It makes them stronger. And when it can be arranged, I strongly suggest that you talk to him on the phone. Hearing your voice will do him a great deal of good. It certainly has had an affect on me."

He smiled again. Genevieve finally smiled.

There was a tap at the door. Genevieve started.

"It's almost time," Chris said. "Will you come back some time?"

"I'd love to, but remember there may be a high price someday."

He nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. When do you see Toby?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tell him he still has me."

She nodded as the guard came in with the shackles.

"Mr. Humphries," she said reading his name tag quickly. "Can I give Mr. Keller a hug? I've come such a long way and we've only had a half an hour."

She gave him a very sweet smile. The guard stepped back. Genevieve was soon enveloped in Keller's strong embrace her face pressed against his chest.

"Thanks for all of this," he said. "Please, make Toby listen."

She kissed his cheek then withdrew.

"Take care, Dear One."

It took ten minutes for her to compose herself for the drive back to the airport. She was suddenly very tired.

Genevieve called Sister Peter Marie while in the car and was informed that Beecher was refusing to leave his pod and that McManus person was about at the end of his rope. The Mistress sighed.

"Tell him I will be there tomorrow morning with word from Keller. I expect him to be showered, shaved and groomed and with the proper deportment or I will keep the letter for myself," she said.

"Yes, ma'am!" Sister Peter Marie exclaimed. "This may be what he needs -- a swift kick in the pants.

"Never hurts. Has Agent Nelson has arranged for us to meet in one of the offices?"

"Yes, he has, and that has caused some consternation from the warden and Mr. McManus. They'd like to meet you before you talk to Beecher," the sister said.

"It sounds dreadfully tiresome."

There was a chuckle on the other end. "I don't think it would be prudent for me to say."

Genevieve liked the nun. "I'll see them, but I'd like you in attendance."

"Oh, I wouldn't miss this. See you at 10 am."

Genevieve had dressed with great care. It was important to make sure the men felt her power without being too provocative. She wore her long heavy hair in a thick braid. Her makeup wasn't heavy, but she did make sure that the shadow and liner emphasized her exotic green eyes. The lip color was neutral but gave her lips a gloss that made them something that had to be touched. She wore high waisted black silk pants and a black silk knit camisole. The ensemble was topped by a long black jacket light weight and very soft suede that came to her mid calf and gave her a dramatic flair when she walked. She wore heels, but they were comfortable and stylish. As a final accent, she wore black gloves. They fascinated men especially when they aren't removed to shake hands.

At 9:45, Genevieve was signing in at the entrance of Oswald State Penitentiary which she found as dreary as the place in Massachusetts. The guard seemed to be startled by her and thus only glanced in her bags. By then Sister Peter Marie had appeared sparing the poor man from having to suggest a pat down search.

"Well Tobias wasn't exaggerating about you," she said with a big smile. "He said you looked like a Bond girl. I'm Sister Pete."

"Hello," Genevieve smiled. "Toby is very sweet."

"He is also shaved and groomed and pacing in his pod," she said. "I expected much more of a fight, but as soon as I told him your message he was in the showers."

"I hope we won't keep him waiting long," Genevieve said. "I'm anxious to see him."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll only be in with Glynn and Tim as long as you want to," she said. "Follow me."

Warden Glynn had a tasteful office considering how depressing the outside of the building was. And he had a major bit of talent working behind the receptionist desk. Quite a little throne room in this little fiefdom, Genevieve thought. The luscious receptionist waved them into the office. Sister Pete went in first.

"May I present, Genevieve Arnaud," the nun said stepping aside.

Both men were on their feet as soon as she walked in. She shook hands with each of them and accepted the chair offered for her. She noticed they had not offered the sister a seat. She rolled her eyes and pulled up a chair.

"Can I get you some coffee or water," The man she surmised was McManus asked.

"No, thank you," she replied.

"I'd like some tea," Sister Pete said. No one moved. "I'll get it."

"What can I do for you gentlemen?"

"We wanted to get a feel for your intentions as far as Tobias Beecher is concerned," Glynn began.

"How so?"

"While we know that Toby needs some attention that we have not been able to give him, we don't want to make him a privileged character," McManus said. "The other inmates take a dim view to that and could make more trouble."

"You mean that Emcity didn't like the silk pajamas?"

"Oh, no, I don't mean that," Glynn said. "I know I look forward to mine every night. Thank you once again."

"Me, too," Sister Pete said.

"I'm glad you enjoy them," Genevieve said. "Today I am merely delivering a letter and a sandwich. I have no desire to interfere with your excellent care and protection of Tobias Beecher."

"Okay, okay," Glynn said with a sigh. "It's just that he was whisked out of here by the Feds for a cross country conjugal visit and now they're making demands once again. I don't like being a pawn in one of their fishing trips."

"Ah, yes," Genevieve sighed. "That territory issue. It seems part of the FBI's mission statement to alienate local authorities. They do have an agenda in intervening for me. They want a confession from Chris Keller. I informed Agent Nelson that I am here to fulfill a promise. That is all."

Glynn relented at that smile. McManus shifted in his chair nervously. "I think we should show Ms. Arnaud to my office before Beecher wears a hole in his pod."

"I agree," the warden said. "It's been a real treat to meet you."

"You're very kind."

"Before you go, can we have a cup of coffee?" Sister Pete asked.

"I'd like that. Lead on."

Genevieve walked alongside Tim McManus with a guard a short distance behind them.

"I think you should brace yourself for the reactions from the men," McManus said. "They may be a bit vocal. It's been a while since someone like you has been closer than a TV screen."

As soon as they hit the open area leading to the stairs, there was an eruption of whistles and whooping. Genevieve ignored them and her stride never broke. McManus ushered her into his office while the guard barked for them to quiet down and went for Beecher.

"Will you be in town long?" He asked.

She smiled at him with a raised brow. "I'm afraid not. I must be back in DC by this evening."

"That's too bad," he replied. "I would have like to have shown you some of the sites. Perhaps another time."

"You're kind to offer, but I think not," she said. "I play awfully rough."

"I find that hard to believe."

She smiled again. "Look me up or ask Chris Keller."

His smile faltered. Then there was a tap at the door. "I'll be back in a hour."

"Thank you, Mr. McManus. Thank you very much."

Beecher rushed past McManus as he exited. He stopped short when he saw her.

"Whoa, fantasy lady! You must have scared the crap out of Tim," he exclaimed.

She chuckled. "Not as much as I should have. That man has no sense of when he's in over his head. Let me look at you."

He was well scrubbed and in clean clothes, but he was thin and looked fatigued and pale. Genevieve drew him gently into an embrace and held him. Toby closed his arms around her burying his nose in her hair.

"Toby, Toby, giving up will kill him, too," she whispered. "He thought he was doing the right thing for you."

He trembled in her arms as she held him. Genevieve gently petted his hair and rubbed his back.

"You've lost weight, Cherie," she whispered. "This must stop."

Beecher pulled back. His dark blue eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"Sit down. I brought you a treat."

Toby obeyed. Genevieve produced the same sandwich and white peach lemonade.

"Eat," she ordered gently. "Chris looked well. He seems to be buffer."

"He must be in the gym a lot," Toby said as he unwrapped the sandwich. He bit into it and closed his eyes.

Genevieve saw then the angelic face that Chris watched sleep so intently in her bed.

"He is as droll and impertinent as ever," Genevieve continued. "And he still cares about you."

She placed the letter next to his meal.

"I don't want to get this dressing on it," he said. "I'll save it for dessert."

"Why don't we talk?"

He looked at her inclining his head. "Is that what you'd wear when you... you know..." he said making a whipping motion.

She shrugged. "I could. I wear almost anything I feel like... or nothing at all."

Beecher blushed deeply. "I'm sure that's very persuasive... how did you... with Chris? He really got off on being shackled to your bed."

"That's why I left the shackles there," she said with a smile. "Normally, I don't reveal anything about the training of another, but he was never in service with me formally and you'd never get a straight answer from Chris..."

Beecher was savoring the lemonade but his eyes were riveted on hers.

"We met at a party thrown by some associates of mine. It was a play party to recruit local talent, so there was some paddling going on here and some flogging going on there."

The lawyer chuckled. "How come I've never been invited to those parties?"

"Where this one is concerned, you were lucky. I was bored silly," she replied drily. "Then I saw Mr. Keller naked to the waist in these leather pants that he made look obscene somehow. Magnificent. He had a collar and was being lead on a leash by some insipid blonde child that couldn't control a poodle, let alone him. His eyes were the most predatory I've ever seen in a man.

"I caught his eye easily enough. He was bored as well. Somehow, we got engaged in conversation. He was being arrogant. I challenged him that I could bring him to the very brink of orgasm with just my flogger."

"Really?"

"It doesn't work with every one. But I could tell by the way he moved and the way he ate and drank that he was a sensualist," Genevieve said wistfully. "I sweetened the challenge by offering myself for his pleasure if I failed."

"That was risky," Beecher observed. "I still fluttered a little when he would take me over."

"I was confident. And he came with me to the St. Andrew's cross with the leash dangling down his back. I don't even know that happened to that little blonde," she laughed softly. "He shucked those pants and offered me his wrists."

"And did he respond?"

"Oh, yes," Genevieve purred. "I just kept kissing his skin with the tendrils of the flogger. I covered his whole body over and over. He was gasping and moaning by the time I switched to my good arm. Oh Toby, by the time my right arm was too tired to go on, we was begging for me to touch him. It only took one stroke to set him off like a derrick. Just magnificent....is it hot in here?"

Toby gulp his lemonade. He was deeply flushed. "But you never got to train him. I can't imagine willingly letting him go."

Genevieve shook her head. "It wasn't meant to be. Certain aspects of training brought up issues for Chris. We had great fun for a while. And I really enjoyed his company. Nor could I forget him."

"That is a curse of sorts. And now at the risk of not being able to walk out of here without issuing an invitation to half the quad, onto the main event," Beecher said.

Toby opened the letter with a trembling hand and began to read. A smile sprang to his face immediately.

"He called the sandwich an orgasm on bread," Toby said softly. The rest was read in silence. There was an occasional tear shed.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes... still hurts that he's not here," Toby said. "But he realizes that trying to shut me out is hurting us both. And after what he's already done for me, he's entitled to be a little selfish. He also thinks we might not fight as much through the mail."

"Really?"

"Who knew he could be an optimist?" Toby chuckled. "Thank you for this. You're a lot like Sister Pete -- on the side of angels."

Genevieve rolled her eyes heavenward. "No one admires nuns as much as I. They raised me. But their brand of discipline is too much even for me. I appreciate the compliment though."

The Mistress took Toby's hands. "I know you're anxious to reply to his letter. And I need to return to Jim and Blair."

He nodded. "Give them my regards. I should write to Blair. I found a counterpoint to the debate we where having when Chris derailed my brain."

"He's enjoying that. Perhaps I'll bring him on my next visit."

Toby smiled. "You'll come back?"

She nodded. "I'll be in the area for a while."

"I'd really enjoy that."

They embraced once more. By the time a much more subdued McManus came to walk her to the car, Genevieve was drained. She sent apologies to Sister Pete promising a rain check. It was time to get back to DC. Even in the insanity that was Jim and Blair's lot, there was seldom despair.

The first call Genevieve made upon entering the suite was to Jim. It was the tail end of their lunch break according to the itinerary thoughtfully left on the center of the bed with a big note that read "Call Me" in Jim's neat hand.

"Ellison," he barked.

"Hi honey, I'm home," Genevieve said. "Why are you so upset?"

"Sorry, Genevieve," he said. "I'm glad you're back. Will you be in the rooms when we get back?"

"Yes. I plan to go out for a skate later, but I'll be here," she said. "Now, what's troubling you?"

"I... I .. here's Blair."

"Jim?"

"It's Blair. Jim's a little stressed. It's been a strange morning for him," he said.

"What has happened?"

"A late addition to the seminar had thrown him a little," Blair said.

"I don't understand."

"Let's just say that Jim really has to talk to his father when we get back," Blair replied.

"Not another one."

"Oh yes. And this one's a movie star studying for a part," Blair said. "I never noticed how much they looked alike until they were standing together..."

"Poor Jim."

"It's not as bad as Jim thinks," Blair said. "Only me, him, Nelson and Cole have really noticed. I mean no one really thinks an average person looks just like a movie star."

"Cole Ricciardi?" Genevieve asked frowning.

"That's the one."

"Well, he's bigger than Jim... steroids probably... and then there's that big hair... yes, I can see it," Genevieve sighed.

"He hasn't been a problem in class. He's keeping to the back and isn't interfering. I think the real cops kinda intimidated him."

"So why is Jim so upset?"

"Ricciardi is... studying Jim... watching him... carefully."

"Oh, Dear," Genevieve said. "Well, when you get home, we'll find a way to keep him focused."

"Works for me. I can't have him this squirrelly for the whole seminar," Blair said. "See you tonight."

Genevieve shed her clothes and scrubbed off the make-up then took up her skates. It was cool in the late afternoon with a wonderful breeze. For two hours she tooled about the lovely, upscale area near the hotel. By the time dusk was falling, her mind was clear and all she could think about were her muscles. She was relaxed and ready for anything.

Of course, that's when the toddler ran into her path. Genevieve swerved and avoided the child, but ran into a tall and solidly built man. She smiled when the man's arm's looped around her. She leaned into the embrace smiling. "I'd know those hands anywhere."

Those hands gently righted her then pulled her back. The familiar face that went with the solidly built body held no recognition in the pale blue eyes.

"I don't think so," he said. In that same honey warmed husky voice. "I certainly would recall if my hands had made your acquaintance."

He was much cooler and more aloof, but there was some appreciation in his tone.

"Thank you, officer," she said.

"How did you know I was a cop?"

"Wild guess. You were most helpful."

"Can you make it home?"

"I'm right here at the Ritz."

"Very nice."

"You should visit me at happy hour sometime. I'll be here for a couple of months," she said with a saucy smile.

He inclined his head slightly considering her.

"Think about it. A bientot."

Genevieve skated off wondering one thing. If Cole Ricciardi was with Jim and Blair and the other one who did know her was still in Hawaii, who on Earth was that?

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Siren Saga 20: Something Squirrelly This Way Comes