Author's webpage: http://www.eden.rutgers.edu/~jfaulkne/

"Ennui"
by Jen Faulkner (jfaulkne@eden.rutgers.edu)

Rating: NC-17 for graphic f/f sex.

Warnings: Crossover between Highlander and due South. Features graphic sex between two females. If that bothers you, skip this one. If you're underage, or otherwise legally prohibited from reading such materials, again, skip this one. No spoilers. Mild innuendo about a male/male relationship.

Notes: Time-line wise, this story is set between the end of Highlander: The Series and the beginning of H:The Raven. In other words, no Nick. For due South, it's set sometime when the original Ray is present, as well as Turnbull. No mention of RayK. Since there's nary a sign of plot here, I don't think you need to have seen either show to follow along. And a million thanks to my wonderful betas, Marie and Melissa, without whom this story might have had a great deal of unintended silliness. Any remaining boo-boo's are my fault
entirely.

French note: There is some French in this story. Since I wrote it, it's pretty basic, but I've provided translations at the end.

Disclaimer: Neither the characters nor the show concepts belong to me. If they did, I would be rich and satisfied. Unfortunately, I'm just a poor, starving student. Don't sue me. They belong to their respective creators, and not me.

Feedback greatly (and gratefully!) appreciated.

Story copyright (c) 2000 by Jennifer A. Faulkner. All rights reserved.

(May be archived elsewhere, just let me know first!)

"Ennui"

Amanda was bored. Chicago had not been at all as entertaining as she'd hoped. It seemed there was nothing in the Windy City worth bothering over. She'd broken into the Oriental Institute, but nothing had caught her eye. She'd visited the Art Institute, but the security was so lax that the challenge was simply not there. Mac was far away, in Paris, which also bored her at the moment. Chicago had been the chance for a fresh start -- new city, new faces. Yet back again was the old ennui.

The boredom was the only reason she could think of to explain why she had accepted this invitation. The Canadian Consulate was hardly the hottest night spot in town. But then, she'd already been to the hottest night spots in town. They'd bored her too. One dance club was really very much like another. Here, she might at least disturb the Mounties' complacent expressions when they noticed their silver missing.

She giggled. The man who'd invited her looked slightly confused, then continued talking about lumber production. Amanda felt no need to listen, but nodded at him politely, thinking instead of how best to ditch him. The party lights gleamed in the elegant room, twinkling off guests' jewels with an entrancing shine. Many of the women seemed simply draped in diamonds, enveloped in emeralds.

Amanda's own jewels shimmered, artfully drawing the eye to the pale skin of her throat, the elegantly plunging neckline of her black cocktail dress, which clung to her body like a second skin. The smooth silk, coming to just above her knees, artfully showed off her flawless figure, honed to strength and agility by years of swordplay. The bleached blond hair struck the only discordant note, obviously unnatural, yet somehow not out of place on the beautiful thief.

Her attention returned momentarily to her escort. Oblivious to her inattention, he was still blathering on about lumber. He hadn't even offered to get her a glass of champagne. Amanda decided she'd had more than enough of his less than stimulating company.

"Darling, I'm just going to go and get a glass of that delightful looking champagne. Be right back!" And with a breezy kiss in his direction, she fled deforestation and environmentalists and government regulations. It was time to find more interesting company.

The party seemed a fairly ordinary gathering of Chicago's elite. Diplomats mixed with business magnates and politicians under the benevolent eyes of the Mounties. Though at first the room had seemed awash in red serge, Amanda now realized that there were in fact only three of the bright uniforms.

Standing in one corner, looking as if he wished he could be anywhere else, lurked a tall blond man, who held a tray in one hand. Occasionally he blinked at it in surprise, perhaps wondering how it had managed to remain in his hand. The canapes were the only thing she had seen him holding that he had not subsequently dropped. One of the other Mounties, remarkably good looking, had rushed to his assistance after each accident, bringing aid in the form of towels and brooms. The blond one had blushed, stammered, tripped over his own feet, and generally looked miserable each time. She felt vaguely sorry for him; he seemed like a sweet, well-intentioned man.

The other Mountie, the one who'd helped him clean up, who'd calmed one of the guests when she became hysterical at the stain thrown onto her pale skirt with a few murmured words and a very earnest smile, stood talking with a much smaller man. His friend (she was quite sure they were friends, and not strangers) wore a well-tailored Armani suit, which gave him a look of dignity suited to the Mountie's statuesque quality. He also had a very nice pair of cuff-links, which she thought Mac might like.

She was walking towards them, when she noticed that someone else apparently had the same idea. The third Mountie was also heading for the two men. The other two RCMP members were good looking, but this woman...

Amanda felt her breath catch involuntarily.

This woman was incredible.

She had seen many beautiful women before, certainly. She'd had many lovers, mortal and immortal, who could compete with her aesthetically. Who had such flawless skin, such dark hair, such delicate features, such strong limbs... She felt light-headed, giddy.

The woman reached her goal, grabbing the other Mountie aside. She pulled him away from his companion, and though her words weren't audible, Amanda recognized a superior giving a rebuke to her subordinate when she saw it. The other Mountie flushed, suitably chastised, and with one backward glance at his Armani-clad friend, began circulating among the guests, leaving the woman alone. Her features softened perceptibly as she looked after him, and she sighed.

"Oh damn," Amanda thought. "This may present a complication..." Still, no harm in trying.

She approached the Mountie, giving her a moment to compose herself, then said, "Excuse me..." The woman seemed to be paying no attention, so she said a little more loudly, "Pardonnez-moi, Mademoiselle..." The beautiful eyes turned to look at her, her glance piercing Amanda through. She shivered.

The woman visibly started (Probably at having to speak French, Amanda thought, a tad maliciously), and said, "Bonsoir, Mademoiselle. Bienvenu au Consulat general du Canada. Et comment allez-vous?"

Her voice sent a little thrill through Amanda. Her manner was brisk, businesslike, but there was a spark in her eyes that made them seem warm. "Tres bien, Mademoiselle, merci. C'est Mademoiselle, n'est-ce pas? Vous n'etes pas mariee?" Amanda asked, though she already knew the answer. The beautiful Mountie wore no wedding ring, indeed, no jewelry of any sort.

"Non," she answered, sounding a bit sad, looking again after her junior officer. "Je suis celibataire -- et vous?"

"Moi aussi," Amanda said with what could only be called a grin. "Bien sur -- les hommes, ils sont difficiles, non?"

"Oui, c'est vrai," she agreed, returning Amanda's infectious grin with a beautiful smile of her own. At the sight the thief felt her heart begin to soar. "Pardon, mais comment vous appellez-vous?"

"Je m'appelle Amanda Montrose. Et vous?"

"Inspector Meg Thatcher."

Meg offered her hand to Amanda almost languidly, but Amanda nevertheless gladly took the outstretched hand. "Enchantee," she murmured. The inspector was obviously trying to remember Amanda's name from the guest list. Since she had come with Lumber Man, it would prove a fruitless task. Meg asked, "Vous etes toute seule?"

"Non, je suis venue avec l'homme du bois de construction."

"Ah, Monsieur Spinelli..." She looked at Amanda for a moment as the terrible truth dawned. "Mais il ne parle pas francais..."

"No," Amanda agreed. "He doesn't." She couldn't keep from laughing any longer. "I'm terribly sorry, darling... but you did ignore me when I spoke in English."

Meg flushed, and then laughed too. "Well, practice is undoubtedly good for me -- my French does grow a bit rusty in Chicago. There's not much call for it here."

"I can imagine," Amanda said. "I haven't found many French speakers here at all."

"Are you from France, then?" the Inspector asked.

"Originally."

"And now? Do you live here in Chicago?"

Amanda nodded. A warm feeling was beginning to spread through her, a confidence that things may indeed turn out quite satisfactorily. It began down low in her belly, but the pleasant sensation seemed to be working its way all the way out to her fingertips. She was tingling with excitement. "Recently arrived. Boredom and lack of connections drove me to accept Lumber Man's invitation... but I'm glad I did." She favored the gorgeous Mountie with her most flirtatious smile.

Meg's blush only highlighted how exquisite her pale skin and dark, lustrous hair looked above the dress uniform. But she moved a step closer to the other woman, close enough that Amanda could smell her perfume, an elegant scent, like the inspector herself. Chanel No. 5?, she wondered. "Would you like something to drink?" the Mountie asked. "Champagne?"

"That would be lovely, Inspector."

"Please call me Meg."

"With pleasure," Amanda answered.

Meg's attention turned aside momentarily to locate the waiter with the tray of champagne glasses. She gracefully took one from the tray and handed it to the blonde.

Amanda thanked her, then took a sip of the pale liquid. It looked as bubbly as she felt. "But won't you have a glass too? Drinking alone's no fun!" she said, calling out to the waiter to come back. She gave a glass to Meg, then twined her arm around the inspector's, murmuring, "A ta sante... Bottoms up, darling!"

The Canadian woman seemed momentarily nonplussed by their sudden closeness, then shrugged and said, "Cheers, Amanda." Watching each other, they drained the glasses. Not moving away from the entrancing Mountie, she set them on the tray held by the waiter, who seemed to have remained, staring at them. Meg fixed him with a sudden fierce glare, and he hastened off.

"Perhaps we should slip off for a bit... have a more private chat... get to know each other," Amanda suggested. "If you don't have to stay and supervise, that is."

"No, Constable Fraser'll watch things... if he stays away from Detective Vecchio, of course, and pays attention to the rest of the guests."

"Constable Fraser -- he would be the good-looking one with the dark hair?"

Meg sighed. "Yes, that's Fraser. Our other officer is Constable Turnbull. He's the one who dropped a tray of champagne glasses and two dozen hors d'oeuvres onto the Persian carpeting." Amanda looked properly sympathetic. "How about a tour of the Consulate?" the darkhaired woman offered.

Her arm still linked in Meg's, "A brilliant idea," Amanda said.

Moving away from the crowd in the reception room should have eased the heat she was feeling, but it had no apparent effect. She still felt as though she were burning up. Her arm could have been on fire where Meg's red serge brushed against it. The corridor offered much greater privacy, though, and she leaned a little closer to the other woman, lightly pushing her hip against the Mountie's.

She heard Meg's quick intake of breath at the increased contact. The inspector sounded decidedly breathless as she said, "Over here is my office. And up this way--"

"I'd love to see your office, Meg," Amanda said, knowing that otherwise she'd have to kiss Meg's beautiful mouth right there in the hallway, where anyone could walk out and see them. The other woman must have caught her anxiousness, because she parted her lips, as if she were going to speak, but then didn't, simply pulling on Amanda's hand, leading her to her office.

Once the door was shut, she turned to face the blonde woman, one hand still holding Amanda's, the other going to her face, tracing the Immortal's beautiful cheekbones, skimming across her chin. When one finger touched Amanda's lips, she parted them slightly, kissing that beautiful pale skin, feeling herself sigh in contentment. Amanda brought her other hand up behind the Mountie's head, pulling her mouth down to hers, and kissed her gently.

She was dizzy, the room was spinning, space and time were realigning... all at the touch of Meg's lips on hers.

After the first contact, the kiss turned more demanding, neither content with a small taste. Amanda's tongue reached out, asked entrance, and Meg opened to her, their tongues meeting, tasting, reaching. She fell into the sweet taste of Meg's mouth, like the champagne they had drunk and with a sweetness that was not the wine at all.

Meg pushed her back against the closed door behind them, leaning into her. The red serge scratched her through the thin silk of her dress, and she wanted nothing so much as to rub her increasingly sensitive skin against that rough sensation. She felt her nipples begin to react to the stimulation, tautening. Her breath escaped in a hiss of pleasure. The Mountie's hands were on her back, tracing along her spine, pulling her tightly against the other woman.

She moved from Meg's mouth, who then began kissing down Amanda's throat, light kisses that tantalized her, made her back arch against the beautiful Canadian. Meg settled into the hollow at the base of her neck, sucking and licking. Her teeth grazed the spot, not hard enough to hurt, but enough that Amanda let out a soft moan, a plaintive sound.

She brought her hands down from the door where they had been bracing the two women, and began running her fingers along the top of the RCMP dress uniform. As gorgeous as it looked -- and her heart was definitely racing at the sight now -- she wanted to see a little more of the woman underneath. She started pulling at the top few buttons. "A little tunic is *not* going to defeat me!" she thought darkly, as the uniform's rather outre fastenings seemed to have a will of their own, rebuffing her attempts.

Still, there is more than one way to skin a cat, as the saying goes. "Meg," she murmured, "I can't seem to unbutton the tunic at all... Couldn't you..." But then Meg's mouth descended a bit lower, and Amanda couldn't finish the thought, let alone the sentence. But the other woman seemed to have understood, because she moved a step back from Amanda, and began to undo the tunic.

Her movements were slow, sensuous, every deft twist of her fingers an artful display. It was all Amanda could do not to pant at the sight. The dark-haired woman did not hurry to unfasten her uniform, but teased her new lover, offering only glimpses of the beautiful form beneath, until it seemed that Amanda would have no choice but to go over and rip it off her. At that moment, Meg let the tunic fall.

Underneath, she wore a simple white tank top, which clung lovingly to the curves of her breasts and her flat stomach. The black lace of her bra was clearly visible, as were her nipples poking through the fabric. "Much better, darling," Amanda said with a smile of satisfaction. Quickly her hands moved to circle her lover's breasts, feeling their perfect weight. She rubbed them, paying special attention to the perky nipples at their center. They became even harder under her fingers, as Meg's arousal became more evident. The heady scent of female excitement reached the Immortal's nose, and she breathed in deeply.

"Maybe we should move to that lovely little couch over there, hmm?" Amanda suggested, her hot breath blowing into Meg's ear with a tickling puff. The inspector moved backwards, pulling the pert thief along with her, so that they tumbled together onto the sofa. Amanda landed on top of the tempting brunette, and let her lips leave a trail of wet kisses along Meg's smooth neck. She pulled the tank top over the other woman's head, then undid the clasp of her lacy bra, releasing her breasts, licking and nibbling appreciative down her chest towards Meg's navel.

The other woman's hands crept up the back of Amanda's long legs, stroking firmly towards the firm mounds of her buttocks. She pushed up the bottom of the black silk dress, and couldn't resist saying appreciatively, "I do like a woman who's unafraid of going commando." Amanda's throaty laughter made Meg's desire even hotter.

"I wonder what's under those pants then, darling...." Amanda quickly set about finding out. She expertly maneuvered the button fastening with her talented tongue, popping the closure out while her hands were still busy playing with Meg's taut nipples. Meg watched in no little amazement as the blonde easily pulled down the zipper with just her teeth and then finally moved her hands down to slide the regulation jodhpurs off of the inspector's slim legs.

"I've never actually seen anyone do that before," Meg ventured, her breath catching as the Immortal began stroking the curve of her hip, clad in black lace panties matching the now-discarded bra.

"I think you'll find I'm a woman of many talents...." Amanda told her, pushing against the other woman, who had now undone the zipper on her dress, and had pulled it from her shoulders. Muttering, she added, "You should see me with hooks and eyes...."

Meg was grinding her pelvis against her new lover's, seeking to relieve the pressure that was building inexorably between her legs. Her center felt so wet, so hot, that she thought she would go crazy if Amanda didn't touch her there soon.

As if sensing her urgency, Amanda slid Meg's panties off. She could finally gaze upon the other woman sans any obstruction, and she knew her first impression had been right. Meg was truly breath-taking.

She began to lick at the inspector's thighs, moving in towards her pussy. Amanda breathed in the earthy, female scent, and felt her own clitoris responding to Meg's arousal. At the first lick to her dripping cleft, Meg's hands came up on Amanda's back, and she shuddered, raking her nails along the pale skin. Amanda licked again, loving how responsive Meg was. The Canadian's breath was coming in little gasps, and she made soft mewling noises as Amanda began to suck at her clit in earnest.

Meg's trembling was increasing, and Amanda knew she was close to the edge. The speed with which her hips were moving up and down was nearly frantic, and then she was coming, her hands clenching convulsively as she called out Amanda's name.

Amanda watched in amusement and desire as awareness slowly returned to her lover's brown eyes. Meg gave her a very satisfied smile, and then pulled the blonde thief down so that they lay side by side on the rather narrow couch. She kissed Amanda's full lips, and then began to nibble lightly at her nipples, while her hand stroked Amanda's mons.

"Not a natural blonde... who would have guessed?" she asked teasingly.

"Just promise me you won't tell," Amanda answered her, enjoying the sensations slowly building at her core.

"Never. Mounties' honor."

Meg bent back to continue her sweet torture of Amanda's nipples, and at the same time, she slipped one finger inside the other woman. Amanda moaned with pleasure at the feeling as Meg began thrust the finger in and out. The addition of a second finger had her quickly undulating her hips in rhythm with the pushes from Meg's fingers. When the inspector used her thumb to brush across Amanda's clit, she couldn't prevent an uninhibited gasp from escaping her lush lips.

Meg was stroking and thrusting, stroking and thrusting, and Amanda knew she was very, very close to splitting apart at the pleasure, and she was tightening, and so close; it was just there, just one or two more, so very close...

Her climax seemed to go on forever as she screamed her pleasure, burying her face in Meg's neck, and holding onto the inspector like a life-line. The world was spinning, and only this woman here beside her kept her anchored.

When she no longer thought she might black out, Amanda opened her eyes again, and found Meg regarding her with what could fairly only be called a smug expression. Amanda would have to admit it was well-earned. Very few mortals were that clever with their mouths and hands, not having so much time to practice as many of her kind had.

"Merci, ma cherie," she whispered to her lover.

Seemingly no more anxious than she to move from their loose embrace on the sofa, Meg answered, "De rien, ma choute." She stroked Amanda's cheek lightly with a fingertip, then gave her a ghosting kiss. "I just hope you found the tour of our Consulate informative and entertaining?"

"Certainly entertaining..." Amanda smiled at the Mountie. Somehow, Chicago no longer seemed so deadly boring.

"Perhaps you'd like to see the Queen's Bedroom upstairs? Never used by royalty that we know of, but one does have to wonder what Constable Fraser and Detective Vecchio get up to, when I'm not around to supervise..." And Meg laughed, inviting Amanda to share in her small joke.

No, not boring at all.

*Fin*

30. May 2000

End note: Here are the promised French translations. Many thanks to my talented betas Marie and Melissa who caught all silly mistakes I made. The responsibility for any remaining errors is solely my own.

(Safer sex note: Immortals don't get diseases. Therefore, Amanda doesn't need to practice safer sex. Meg is silly for not talking about it maybe, but fiction and all that. Don't be unsafe at home, kids.)

*"Bonsoir, Mademoiselle. Bienvenu au Consulat general du Canada. Et comment allez-vous?" = "Good evening, Miss. Welcome to the Canadian Consulate. And how are you?"
*"Tres bien, Mademoiselle, merci. C'est Mademoiselle, n'est-ce pas? Vous n'etes pas mariee?" = "I'm very well, Miss, thank you. It is 'miss', isn't it? You aren't married?"
*"Je suis celibataire -- et vous?" = "I'm single, and you?" *"Moi aussi" = "Me too"
*"Bien sur -- les hommes, ils sont difficiles, non?" = "Of course, men are a pain, aren't they?"
*"Oui, c'est vrai" = "Yes, that's true" *"Pardon, mais comment vous appellez-vous?" = "Excuse me, but what is your name?"
*"Vous etes toute seule?" = "You're here on your own?" *"Non, je suis venue avec l'homme du bois de construction." = "No, I came with the Lumber Man."
*"Mais il ne parle pas francais..." = "But he doesn't speak French..."
*"Merci, ma cherie" = "Thank you, darling" *"De rien, ma choute" = "You're welcome, sweetie"

Again, feedback is greatly appreciated -- jfaulkne@eden.rutgers.edu