"Hold on tight, T, and don't let go!" I tell Tara as we turn a sharp corner.

We were off on our little adventure, leaving our girlfriends behind. Buffy was curious but Red was confused. She had followed us into the garage when we were leavin'.

She was hot on Tara's heels and would bump into her whenever Tara would stop for a second. I think T did it on purpose. Her humor is subtle, but I get it.

"You're going to ride on Faith's bike?" Red had asked, like Tara was crazy.

"Yep," said T, strapping the helmet on.

She looked so cute too.

"Will you be gone long?" asked Red, worried again.

"If you can pry your way out of T's ass, then we won't be. Relax, Red. Have I ever given you a reason to not trust me?"

She gave me a death look and I laughed.

"Trust me, you'll love it."

I park the bike when we reach our destination. The lot was packed, but I slid my bike between two cars.

"So, this is it?" Tara says handin' me her helmet. I take it and strap it to the seat next to mine.

"The world famous Pleasure Chest. Yep, this is it, T."

She looks at me nervous, so I grab her hand and pull her inside.

"Don't worry, baby. You're with me, no one will bother you."

We walk inside and her eyes go wide. The lower part has all sorts of funny cards and calendars of drag queens and stuff, and a section where they have leather daddy outfits and hats. There's also Cop clothes and some fake badges under a glass counter.

"Upstairs, T," I lead her up top.

Her eyes go really wide now. Every nook, every crannie, was filled with sex toys. Big, small and HUMONGUS.

How the fuck those boys fit all that up their asses is beyond me.

But the clientele still looked really normal. Just like me and T.

Well, okay, like T.

"W-wow," she whispers.

It is kind of an eyeful.

Fake dicks, vibrators, condoms, various kinky outfits, feather boas, masks and candy.

Of the anatomical kind.

She wanders off to explore. Good for her. I take off and do the same.

After a half hour she finds me, with a shopping basket in one hand and a girl on the other.

"Jayme!"

"Faith!" She leans in to kiss me on the cheek.

"Look what I-I found," says Tara shyly.

"It's Jayme, T. I see that." Tara blushes.

Jayme is the roadie we met in Vegas when we went to go see Blondage. Fuckin' hot show. Fuckin' hot roadie.

"What are you doin' here, Jayme?" I ask, lookin' her up and down. She looks good. "Are the girls in town doin' a show?"

"No, but they both live here, though. I flew out for Gay Pride."

"Where from?" I ask her.

"Ohio. They don't have anything like this over there."

"You're not shittin' me. Nothing like this in Sunnydale either."

"So, are you staying with them?" Tara asks.

"At Janine's, but I'm hooking up with someone later tonight. She said I had to bring her a gift, so I thought I'd surprise her."

She looks at us and wiggles her eyebrows.

Jayme is a dog, like me. I like her.

"Oh, whatcha gettin'? Battery or strap-on operated?" I ask. Tara blushes again.

"Both, actually. A girl can never be too prepared."

I laugh.

"You got that right. Hey, maybe we'll hook up with you at the parade. You standin' in front of the Palms?"

"Yep. It's the only place to be, Faith. Perfect view of the parade, beer, and a bathroom. That bar is a goldmine come Gay Pride Sunday."

"And we'll be sure to add to their profits. Give the girls a kiss for us, will ya? And we'll see you there on Sunday."

"Sounds great. Any particular place you want me to put that kiss?"

I laugh.

"Well, my friend, I'll leave that up to you. I think you know the right places."

"You got that right," she smiles, repeating what I said.

I really do like her. She's got a sensible head on her shoulders.

She wanders off, and Tara and I wander into a scary corner.

And it really is.

Leather whips, penises, harnesses, slings and a stockade.

And tons of masks. Sado/Masochism style.

Full hoods, half hoods, some with mouths or no mouths. Some with no eyes either. And some with red-ball gags, of course.

"Faith, I-I don't like this corner. It scares me," Tara says nervously.

"Okay baby, I don't care too much for it myself. Let's go over there."

I wisk T away before she spots some of the other stuff.

Needles and pins and other long metal objects. And clamps with sharp metal teeth.

It scares me too.

We find a friendlier place nearby. What a difference. Edible panties, girl-friendly dildos, and anal beads.

Butt jewelry. I pick up a strand.

"Faith, look!" Tara says excited.

"Well, whaddaya know, T. Let's stock up!"

Janine and Julia Ann sex toys. They each have their own line.

We load up her basket and then head for the counter. There is a woman ahead of us and she has boxes and boxes of stuff.

"Same place as usual, Mistress?" asks the piereced-up Aussie sounding sales clerk.

"Yes please, Elaine. And charge it to my account."

The woman looks young and normal. Very pretty with a Scottish accent. Hey, we're in The International House of Pleasure Pancakes.

'Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruity'.

We see the boxes get opened and checked for a quick inventory.

She's got tons of vibrating toys and some of the scarier ones too.

Actually, a lot.

Tara and I both look at the woman again. So normal lookin' and really pretty.

You never can tell, can you? I wonder why she needs that many?

We get up to the counter and the sales clerk finishes writing her account in the books.

"Mistress Crabby's CatHouse of Pleasure and Pain: Support your Local Dungeon".

I guess that kitten's got some claws on her.

Meeeooow. Hisssssss.

"Wanna make a donation, Tara?"

"Um, may-maybe next time," she blushes.

Yeah, I'd like to see her talk Red into that one.

We pay up and put our stuff in the saddlebags. It's bulging with goodies.

We put on our helmets and head back to Angel's.

I don't know about T, but I can't wait to spring these spoils on my girl. Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

We just raided the Chest!

"I made reservations at La'Orangerie. Tell Frenchie that you're friends of mine. He'll be expecting you," Angel says, hanging up the phone.

"Oooo, I love that place. What time, Angel?" Ronald asks.

Ronald had come in early this morning. Haven't seen him around much, cuz he was at the gym.

Like all day.

These boys are serious about lookin' good for Pride week.

"Eight sharp," Angel answers.

"You coming?" Ronald asks hopefully.

"Um, no," Angel says.

"Oh, why not?" he asks dissapointed.

"Well, you know, solid foods."

"Okay, then why do you know about this place? And why does 'Frenchie' know you?"

Hmm. Ronald sounds jealous.

"Because he's my French lover, that's why," drolls Whordy.

I mean Cordy. Her black eye has all but cleared up. She's ready for more action.

She's a wizard with make-up.

"Ooo la la, tres magnifique!" exclaims Ronald, suddenly approving now.

"Although the goat's blood is pretty tasty there," smiles Angel.

"Eew," says Buffy. Angel can still gross her out sometimes.

"Buffy, you shouldn't be so quick to knock something you haven't tried. Maybe not the French, necessarily, but quite a few cultures enjoy it. You should be more open-minded about things. You might find out you like it."

Ronald sighs.

"My point, exactly," he says.

Angel shakes his head and sighs back at him.

"You never give up, do you?"

B and I look at each other. Ronald explains. Sorta.

"I asked Angel if he'd like to go see the grunion run at Santa Moncia beach with me and he said no."

"No, Ronald. That's not all you asked," Angel reminds him.

"Oh, okay. I may have mentioned bringing a blanket and watching the submarine races..." Ronald adds offhand.

"And?" Angel prompts him further.

"...or that we could play submarine races and you could be Captain Nemo and I'd be your first mate."

"And what did I say?" Angel asks with a grin.

"Oh, something vague...like you wouldn't be UP for it, and then some stupid remark about some stupid movie."

"What movie?" Angel prods.

"Down Periscope," Ronald cringes like he's expecting laughter.

And he gets it. From all of us.

"Doesn't sound vague to me at all there, Rhonda." I elbow him.

"Well, if he's never tried it, how can he knock it?" he mutters.

"Ronald, I never said I haven't tried it. I'm over two hundred years old. There isn't much that I haven't tried or haven't seen."

Ronald looks like he's about to faint. I start fanning him with my hand.

"So...so you're saying you have tried it?"

Angel just smiles and gives a 'maybe' smirk.

"Or are you saying you tried it and you didn't like it?"

Now the poor guy looks bummed out. Good thing he's butch, cus I don't own a handkerchief.

"Aww, Ronald. I don't think Soul-boy is sayin' much of anything, really," I shoot Angel a look, "Are you, Angel?"

It's a warning. Poor Ronald's crushin' hard alright.

Cock tease Angel is crushin' his little gay dreams.

"Nope," he grins.

Ronald narrows his eyes for a second and then stands up straight, puffing out his chest.

"I'm going to the gym," And he leaves us with tease boy, who is laughing up a storm.

"That's the third time today. God he's fun," he says wiping his eye.

"He's gotta work off that frustration, you CT," I scold him.

"Yeah," says Buffy, "And at this rate, he'll have the best body in Boy's Town."

"He already does," Angel says slyly.

"Angel!" B, me, and Cordy exclaim.

"What?" he says with mock innocence, "I'm just sayin'."

"What did you just order, Ronald?" Buffy asks.

"I thought you took French, B? Didn't you understand him?"

"Um...well, not so much. I got the 'bon jour' and the 'merci' part though."

Well hell, even I know that. Bon jour are those 80's pants that came out around the time Jordache did, and merci is female horse meat. And not very good grade either. But everyone knows the French are into that.

But I ain't eatin' it.

"I got a little bit of everything. I hope you don't mind that I ordered for you?" asks Ronald.

"Sure, Ronald. But I ain't some kind of eatin' National Velvet type, so don't even ask me...and I don't care if the horse's name was Pie."

He looks at me funny.

"Uh, sure, okay."

What? That made sense, didn't it? Yeah, it did. He's just kinda slow sometimes.

"Hello, Elizabeth Taylor?" I remind him.

"What about her? Is she here?" He starts lookin' around the room. So does B.

Okay, I can excuse her, but I'm gonna have to revoke his gay membership card.

"National Velvet? Elizabeth Taylor?" Last chance, buddy.

"I know, great movie, the one that made her a star. But is she here or something?" He looks around the room again. So does B.

Okay, he's bein' cute. I'll let him.

"Never mind."

He looks at me funny again. And now B does too.

Ohhhhhh. She's in on it.

I get it.

"You know, I thought she was, but it wasn't her. So never mind."

"Oh," They both say.

PSYCH! I'm onto them.

No merci for me...I'll just eat the other stuff.

We chat and catch up. Ronald says he thinks he's finally got a job for me. He got word of some evil that's somewhere in Europe that he wants me to go check out. He's not sure exactly where yet, because his source keeps changing the location, but he's pretty sure he wants me to go.

Transmutation time.

"Big time evil?" Buffy asks worried.

"By the sounds of it," Ronald says.

I get excited.

"That's fuckin' rad, Ronald, when do I go?"

"Well, it's still just a rumor, but my source is really reliable. She's the one who told me about the Hellmouth and all. But for some reason my source's source keeps getting the location mixed up. The problem could be that my source's source's sources keep winding up dead."

"Faith..." Buffy starts.

"I know, B. I'll be careful. Besides, Ronald says it could just be a rumor."

"No, the evil is real, we just don't know if the location is a rumor or not."

"Faith..." Buffy starts again.

I cut Ronald a look with my eyes. He catches it.

"But maybe the rumor is about the evil as well. I mean, how much credibility can you give a source's source's source?"

"Exactly, Ronald," I tell him. I take Buffy's hand, "Don't worry, baby. Ronald will get all the information before I go. We'll be extra careful."

"I'm going with you," Buffy states flatly.

"Really? Oh my god, that would be fabulous!" says a too excited Ronald.

"I don't think so, Buffy. I go, you stay. The Hellmouth needs you."

"You need me," Buffy states flatly again.

"Of course I do, baby. But not for this. Ronald has been payin' me good money and it's time I earned it. It's my job, remember?"

"Yes, I remember, and I'M your girlfriend, remember?"

Oh-oh. It's gonna be one of those conversations.

"This is one of those conversations, isn't it?"

"You bet it is."

Nope, uh-uh, no way. See, you may be my girlfriend, little girl, but I'M the boss of me.

"Buffy, I'm a big girl, I can make my own decisions."

"Faith, you are not single anymore, so every decision you make is NOT your own."

"Buffy, you're my partner not my parent, so quit actin' like one."

"Faith, every decision you act on has consequences or did you forget?"

Shit. Didn't expect that, but that's okay.

"I'm not workin' for the mayor, B, I'm workin' for Ronald."

"What mayor? Of West Hollywood?" Ronald asks confused.

"What?" B and I echo each other.

"What mayor? West Hollywood?" he repeats.

"Ronald, why would I be workin' for the mayor of West Hollywood?"

"I don't know, you tell me. Hate crimes, maybe?"

"No, Ronald, but that's a good idea. We should check into that."

"No, Faith, we won't. Evil humans are still humans, or did you forget that too? We don't kill them no matter what the justification is."

Shit, she's nailin' me left and right.

I never said I was gonna kill 'em. But I'm gonna let that drop.

But this is NOT over. I'm going.

I lean in and give her a kiss.

"Of course not, baby. How could I, with you here to always remind me?"

"Are you being facetious?"

Oh, fancy French words. Well, I know this one too.

"No, I'm not being shitty. I'm just funnin' a little with you."

She gives me a look. So does Ronald.

Haaaaa! Shocked 'em with my skills in parlay voo Frahnsay.

But I still ain't eatin' no horse meat.

Frenchie walks up and brings us our appetizers. He's the head waiter that Angel told us to talk to.

Whordy's little french frie. He's really cute.

He had gone on and on about Cordy's breasts. These French guys are big on "zee bosoms."

Especially the big ones.

"Aahh, Cordy...Ses seins sous une pleine lune sont comme la mie blance des croissants que je mangais au petit dejeuner etant petit garcon. J'aime prendre ses mamellons dans ma bouche et les mordiller jusqu'a-ce qu'elle pousse des cris aigus comme une conchone! Hon! Hon!"

We look at him. Ronald starts crackin' up.

Frenchie translates for us:

"Under zee full moon, urr breasts are like zee soft white dough of zee croissants I used to eat for breakfast as a small boy. I love to take each nipple into my mouth and suck on zhem until she squeals like a leetle pig."

Great. Now I'm cravin' bacon. And where's that bread?

Damn him.

He puts the plates down and tells us our meal will be ready when we are. Now that's service. But I dig in, cus I know what's comin' next.

But they don't know that I know. Psych.

Let's see...Frog legs...uh, no thanks. Goat cheese. I don't think so.

Oh, what's this?

"Hey, pass those over for me, will ya, Ronald?"

Buffy is eatin' the cheese. Gotta make sure she brushes her teeth before she kisses me.

Mmmm. Garlicky sauce and mushroom caps. I sop up the juice with my bread.

"This is fuckin' great, Ronnie," I tell him chewing.

"Mouth, Faith," scolds Buffy.

"Oops. I mean friggin' great, sorry."

"No baby, your mouth. Close it."

See food, schmee food. Whatever.

I close my mouth.

Buffy and Ronald are pretty happy with the goat cheese and frog legs. They keep oooing and ahhhing over them.

Tastes like chicken. Yeah, right.

So just order the chicken then, why don'tcha? Duh.

Nobody seems to care, so I dump the mushroom caps and sauce onto my plate. I sop up more juice with my bread.

I bite into something chewy.

I chew.

And chew.

I'm still chewing, but now I look like a dog tryin' to get something out from his back teeth.

"Faith, your mouth," Buffy scolds again.

"It's not my fault, B. The chef got some tough-ass mushrooms or something."

Buffy looks at my plate.

"Baby, stop," she warns.

"No, B, I got it. Look, and my mouth is closed this time."

"No baby, stop eating the 'mushrooms'," she warns louder.

I swallow. I open my mouth and show her.

"See? All gone."

"Baby, that's gross. But take a sip of wine now, okay? No, on second thought, drink some of this water, and fast."

We got a bottle of the fussy pussy stuff. Poullie fusay or something. It's not so bad.

She hands me a glass, the water sloshing over the rim.

I take it and drink it.

I look at her curiously.

"What's the matter, Buffy? Faith never eat escargot before?"

What?

What??? I know that word too, and I think I'm gonna be sick.

I start feelin' green.

Buffy gets up and kneels down by my chair. She takes my hand and looks up at me.

"Baby, I'm so sorry. I thought you knew. Those weren't just mushrooms you were eating," she whispers.

My eyes start to well up, but I try to blink them away. She takes her fingers and wipes them for me. I'm such a pussy.

"But Faith, besides being a bit chewy, you gotta admit they were pretty tasty," Ronald jokes.

Buffy shoots him a look and he shuts up.

The poor guy. He doesn't know.

"I'm just gonna go to the bathroom for a minute, okay? I'll be right back," I push my chair out and stand up.

"Okay, baby. Take your time," She stands up and gives me a soft kiss. Fuck the goat cheese. I needed that.

I head over to the ladie's room and lock the door. I run the cold water and look at myself in the mirror.

I really am green. Thank god it was just one, and not thirty like my mom made me eat.

Thirty of my friends.

Okay, Buffy knows this but nobody else does. Besides me, that is. I don't think my mom even remembered it.

Her being piss drunk and all.

When I was little, I really didn't have a lot of friends. I mean, I did for a while, but then my mom would always break up with some jerk we were livin' with and then she'd move us away.

And then the next one. And then the next one. Until finally we moved so many times, that I wouldn't even bother taking the clothes outta my suitcase. We moved from one jerk to another.

I remember this one place we were at cus it was always raining. I mean, I guess it was winter time or something so it was always raining, but what I remember the most about this place was how the snails would come out after a good rain and be all over the sidewalks. I used to see lots of squished ones from when people would step on 'em and stuff. I felt bad for the little guys, so if I'd see one still crawlin', I'd pick it up and put it on the grass or something.

Anywhere but the sidewalk.

Well, I had kinda made friends with a few kids on the block, and we used to hang out around our houses. We just fooled around and stuff, playin' touch football and street hockey.

I was finally feelin' a little comfortable and had hoped this time we would stay. The guy we were shackin' up with was less of a jerk than the other ones were, and he didn't drink as much as they did either.

But my mom still did.

Anyway, one day I went to Little Jimmy's house like I always did, and when I got to his backyard he and a few other kids were kneeling down in a circle doin' something. He saw me and called me over.

"Hey 'cracka, come ovah heeya and see this."

So I went over there to see what they were doin'.

They had built a mud castle with moats and stuff and they had like fifteen snails in it. It was wicked cool. The little guys were all crawlin' around and goin' in and out of the water.

Slow, of course, but still movin'.

I got so excited that I wanted to play straight away.

I remember pushin' up my shirtsleeves and gettin' on my knees. I didn't even care if I got mud or grass stains on 'em. It would be worth the beating.

We were watchin' the snails and sometimes we'd pick one up and move him to another spot if he was movin' too slow. It looked like Camelot and the snails were all knights on horseback.

It was more fun than football or street hockey.

Then suddenly Little Jimmy said:

"Ready? On ya mahks, get set... one, two, THREE!"

And all four kids ripped the snails from their shells and started hurling 'em backwards.

I looked behind me and I saw a pile of shells with dead snails and another kid pouring salt on 'em. I never saw the kid before.

I got up and ran over to him. Salt was all over the ground, and he'd step on the snails to grind them into it.

"What the fuck are you doin'??" I remember askin' him. He just kept grinding his foot on the snails.

"What's it look like, ass-wipe? This is the crematorium."

Lookin' back, I realize it wasn't Camelot at all. It was Nazi Germany, and the moats were the death showers and the pile was where they got rid of the bodies.

I didn't know that then, but I fuckin' freaked anyway.

I jumped on the kid, who was a lot bigger than me, and started wailin' on him. I hit him so hard that I split the skin on my knuckles and got some salt in 'em.

But I didn't care. It killed the snails, but it wouldn't kill me.

Or him.

So I took the box of salt and started rubbin' it on the cuts on his face. He started screamin' and cryin'. Not so tough now, huh?

Pansy.

Jimmy and the other kids started yellin' and shoutin'. Pretty soon Jimmy's mom and dad came out, and I guess Jimmy's uncle.

The Nazi kid was his cousin.

The dads came over and lifted me off of his cousin. Little Jimmy's dad had to keep the uncle from takin' a swipe at me.

But he got me once. Right in the eye.

Jimmy's mom started yellin' at me to leave their house, and to take my white-trash self back to my drunk-ass mom.

I did. When I looked back, I saw Jimmy lookin' at me and then he ripped another snail from its shell.

Yeah, you're next, I thought. Just you wait.

But I never did. They all started makin' fun of me whenever they would see me. They'd tease me by steppin' on snails right in front of me.

So I decided to start a rescue mission.

I'd sneak outta my window right before dawn. I'd go up and down the sidewalks and put all the snails I could find in my mom's laundry basket and then I took them to my backyard.

Sometimes it would still be rainin', so I had an umbrella too. I musta looked like the girl on the Morton Salt box, except I was savin' the snails and not killin' 'em. And I wasn't wearin' no dress either.

I built myself a castle AND a fort.

I built the castle like Jimmy did, with moats, and used a piece of cardboard for a draw-bridge. I put some pieces of grass and rocks in the water too. Moats aren't clean, in case you didn't know.

They're actually pretty murky.

But the fort I built was made with mud and popcicle sticks. I had been savin' em since I was really little. In the summers, mom would let me have one every day, and I saved it.

I told myself I was gonna build a giant kite with them and fly away some day. I even drew blueprints for it. But as the years went by, my designs got bigger and bigger, because I got bigger too.

I knew I'd never get enough popcicle sticks to build it, even if mom let me eat a whole box, every day, all summer long.

But I held on to them, cuz I thought I'd come up with some other plan. I still had hopes then, you know.

So the fort had popcicle sticks and mud and some little ditches inside where the horses could drink. I put grass for hay and made some stalls. It was more or less the drier of the two. I'd rotate the snails so they could enjoy both settings.

I made my snails happy. And since I didn't have the few friends that I had any more, they made me happy too.

THEY were my friends and I would protect them.

So every day for three weeks, I'd wake up early and sneak off to collect them. I had about two hundred or so. It was a little community of snails.

I used to sing "Happy Snails to you...until we meet again" to the ones in the fort. But I could never think of a song to sing to the ones in Camelot. So I would just hum it to them instead.

Anyway, one day I was held after school cus I got into a fist fight with two kids. They were callin' me names, but I ignored them. But then they started pickin' on some other kid.

So I wailed on em.

The kid told the teachers that I was just tryin' to help, which was unusual, cus most kids rat me out and blame me for fear of bein' beat by the others again. But this one didn't, so the teachers didn't call my mom into the office.

Instead, they made me clean the chalk boards with erasers and then beat the dust outta them.

It made me kinda late for supper. But I wasn't worried, cuz most times mom would forget to make supper anyway, or she'd just hand me a box of cereal without any milk. We hardly ever had milk in the house.

That's why I like it so much today.

So instead of runnin' to the backyard to say hi to my friends, I ran inside and washed up. I smelled something from the kitchen and remembered it was Tuesday, and mom always got the welfare check on Tuesdays.

We were havin' supper!

I ran into the kitchen and mom was stirring the pot, and had a coffee mug of wine in her hand. She never used glasses cus she doesn't like to put on airs or nothing. Not even juice glasses.

When we had any.

I saw her pour some of her wine from the mug into the pot as she was stirring. It was gonna be one of those kinds of meals.

McDonald's had happy meals, I got crappy meals.

"Hi, baby. Mama was gonna make something special for you. But I spilled some wine on the newspaper and couldn't read the receipe anymore. So I'm makin' it up as I go along. But with wine, baby, all things become French. That's the secret."

I smiled at her. She wasn't such a bad mom, you know. I mean, when she wasn't too fucked up. I know she cared.

She was makin' me supper, wasn't she?

"Here, baby. Mama made this just for you. Eat up and make me happy, okay? You're gettin' too skinny."

"Okay, mama. Thank you."

And she put down a bowl of boiled snails swimmin' in wine soup.

The look on my face musta been shock.

"What's the matter, baby? Did mama fuck up? Did I fuck up again? Did you even try it? I can't do anything right."

And she leaned her back against the wall and slowly slid down it, spillin' some wine on herself and crying.

She wasn't allowed to cry. If she cried and he saw her, we were outta there.

He wasn't a violent man, but the sound of my mom crying made him crazy. He'd hit the wall a few times, and I was afraid the next time it would be her face.

So I ate it.

"Look, mama. I'm eating it," I tried not to gag.

She cried for a while longer but then eventually stopped. She finally got up after a long while and stumbled over to me.

"That's my baby firecracker. Eat it all, okay? Mama needs to take a nap," she slurred.

And she kissed me and passed out on the couch. But her eyes were still kinda open, the way some drunks can be, so I wasn't sure if she had really passed out yet or not.

So I kept eating, not sure if she was watchin' me. I gagged not only from the wine but from each friend I had to chew and swallow.

They were too big not to chew, and would get stuck in my throat.

And I cried quietly the whole time.

She finally started snoring, so I quickly poured the bowl back into the pot and took the whole thing outside. I dumped it in the alley out back and ran to the backyard.

The fort was demolished from where mom had stepped on it. But Camelot was okay. I saved the ones that I could and transferred them. I buried the others.

But Camelot wasn't safe anymore so I had to come up with a plan.

I took the popcicle sticks that weren't broken and laid them side by side. I got some duct tape and strapped them all together, makin' it a raft.

Not big enough for me, but big enough for the remaining friends I had left.

I made a little circle with mud, spreading some of it inside of the circle. I added some grass and a few pebbles.

I put them inside my upside down Round Table. I couldn't go with them, but at least they'd be safe.

And I set them loose to float away with the wash.

I know they probably didn't make it, but I still like to think that they did.

To some far away land called Camelot.

Where people defend honour and fight only for right...

...even if they were only snails.

But I'm in the land of Oz now, and I'm hidin' in a bathroom.

I splash cold water over my face and suck it back up.

Buffy must have told Ronald by now. The poor guy probably feels like shit.

I walk back to the table and they're both watchin' me. I see Buffy murmur something to him and then they both look away.

She knows I hate to be embarrassed.

The food had arrived and they had been waitin' for me.

Can't say I'm very hungry anymore.

"Go ahead and eat, guys. Don't wait for me."

I sit down and pull the napkin over my lap. Buffy likes that.

They start passing the food around me and I nibble on a piece of bread. It does smell good, but I don't think mare-C in bernaise sauce is gonna do it for me.

Frenchie comes out with a burger on a plate. It's got strips of bacon on it too. And those long thin strips of french fries. Looks good, horse meat or no horse meat.

But I just can't.

"Mademoiselle Faith, your bacon avocado cheeezeburgarrrr."

"Beef," Ronald smiles.

Psych on me.

Assholes.

"We finally got the National Velvet reference, Faith. We didn't order horse meat, they don't even have it here. And even if they did, we wouldn't eat it," Buffy tells me.

"You're not eating My Friend Flicka or Pie?" I ask her.

"No, Faith. But I'm hoping to eat some pie later," She smiles softly at me.

I smile back. She always knows how to make me feel better.

"Ladies, ladies, please...must I remind you that you are in mixed company?"

"So what, Ronald? You're one of the girls, what do you care?"

"Yes, sweetie. I may be one of the girls, but I am also a gay male and that pie comment was just gross."

"Even meringue?" I tease him, "Or ala mode? They're both French, aren't they?"

"Yes, baby. Both of those. But it's still gross. Especially the meringue. The idea of a cream filled 'pie' that forms a hard shell is enough to make me vomit."

"It's enough to make me wet," says Buffy.

"Oh, GAG!" He cups a hand over his mouth like he's gonna hurl.

"Not so much cream though, Ronnie. More like a nice clear substance," I offer.

"Stop! Oh god, pleeeeease stop. If I wasn't gay before, I would be now." He really does look green.

Whaddaya know?

"And those snails? They remind of another kind of trail. Like the one Buffy leaves on my thighs and stomach."

"And chin," Buffy adds. I nod at her. She nods back.

"Oh, for the love of Sappho, Rug-Munching Mother of all things unholy, shut UP already!"

He gets up and hurries to the men's room. He's a pussy too.

I gotta tell him that. I'm sure he'll love the visual.

Heh heh.

When he gets back, we decide to forgo the meal. We ask Frenchie to pack up some goat's blood on ice for Angel and promise to give Cordy a message for him.

"Tell my leetle lezbian that urr Frenchie is wait-TING for urr. We have much uff zee catch-ING up to do. Pleaze to tell urr that my sausage will be currred, strrrrroked and veeerrry primed for urr. 'Ow do you say...er...Prrrime A grrrade meat. Pleaze to do thees for me?"

Buffy looks at me sideways and pretends to put a finger in her mouth.

I'm sure Ronald will be happy to pass on the message.

Gag.

"Oui, mon sex-y Frenchie fritter," He kisses Frenchie on both cheeks.

On his face.

We walk out, all three holdin' hands and singin' Dominique from the Singing Nun.

"Dominique ah neeka neeka la la la, la-la, la la..."

That's all we know, but it really doesn't matter. None of us are nuns anyway.

No, we're pretty far from it.

But we got some pretty bad-ass habits, that's for sure.

I wake up to that sound again.

mmmrrrrrwww...MMMRRRWWW...mmrrrwww...MMMRRRWWW...

"Do you hear it too?" Buffy whispers to me, also awake.

"How can I fucking not, B? It's been happenin' all night," I say annoyed.

"What do you think it is?" she whispers again.

"I don't really know. But it sounds like someone is either fucking a moose, fucking a tuba, or is just fucking weird."

mmrrrrwww...MMMRRRRWWW...mmrrrrwwww...MMMRRRWW...

"It does kinda sound like a moose mating. Or a tuba playing from far away," she agrees.

"Yeah, but you know the first thing I picture each time I hear it?"

"No, what?" she asks.

"Some sort of self-automation device that makes different noises when it goes in and out of something...listen."

mmmrrrrwww...MMMRRRWWW...mmmrrrwww...MMMRRRWWW...

"You're right, it does," she agrees again.

"What do you think it is?" I ask this time.

"I don't know either. But it's coming from Cordy's room, I think."

Oh. Well, then it could be any of those things. Moose, tuba, or auto-device.

She's definitely fucking something.

"And I think she has two girls with her tonight," Buffy whispers knowingly.

"Great. Cordy and the she-moose are doin' the nasty, while the other one is playin' the tuba. She's so inconsiderate."

Angel's place has become a petting zoo. Cordy's beaver is constantly gettin' stroked.

"I'm gonna go over there and tell her to knock it off," I say getting up.

Buffy grabs my forearm.

"No, baby. We'll just look for moose droppings in the morning. Come back to bed."

Her hand slides up my arm and massages my bicep. She gives me a look.

Oh.

So it's a little freaky, but the sounds are kind of hot.

It's mating season. Cordy has her moose, but I've got Buffy's pussy. And I'm a she-pup in first heat.

Meow. Purrrrrrrrrrrr. Grrrrrrrr.

I lie back down and she moves into my arms. I love middle-of-the-night sex.

And I'm actually awake for it this time.

She kisses me gently, lettin' me know how she wants me to be. We know each other really well now. We've been together long enough to know each other's wants and needs.

I call it instinct.

She calls it signals and signs.

For instance, if she kisses me gently, like now, then she wants me to be soft and tender. But if she kisses me harder, then she wants me to be more bold and aggressive.

See? I instinctively know what she means.

"Baby..." she whimpers into my neck.

"Hmm?" I capture her lips again. I kiss her gently, runnin' my tongue across her lips.

"Ohh...um, nice, okay? Not rough," she whispers against my mouth.

"I know, B. I have instincts, you know. I may not be a moose, but I have 'em."

"Um..."

Um, what? She pinches my nipple.

Oh.

I stop pinching hers. Oops.

She sighs, relieved.

"Sorry, baby."

So I forget sometimes. I'm human afterall, not a moose. We went over this already.

I take a nipple into my mouth to make up for it. I suck gently, lettin' my tongue caress its peak. I kiss my way over to the other one, and make it feel better too.

"Mmm. That's nice, Faith," she breathes.

I know. You don't gotta hit me on the nose with a newspaper.

Not twice anyway.

She runs her fingers through my hair and parts her legs. She sighs again and settles back against the down pillows.

She's relaxed. She's feelin' good...

She's a fucking pillow queen.

I move back up to kiss her, givin' her a signal of my own.

Not gentle or hard.

Just a kiss.

She just needs to know that I want it.

Her instincts kick in and she moves her hand to my snatch. She starts rubbing it gently, runnin' it softly between my lips.

That's better. Oh yeah...much better.

I move my hand to do the same. She presses her pussy against it and I slide my finger inside.

"Ohh, baby..." she moans.

She makes me so hot, but I gotta chill.

She wants me tender.

But two fingers aren't rough, so I slide in another. She rubs her hand slightly harder against my pussy, dipping a finger in, but then sliding quickly back out to my clit.

Oh. I guess it's another signal. I do the same.

"Yeah, baby...ohh, that's what I want," she breathes.

I'm startin' to feel a little deficient.

But I suck it up. I know what she wants now. To be held and stroked until she falls back asleep.

I can do that.

I position myself to lean back low against the headboard. I put a pillow under my head. I shift her, pulling her with the crook of my arm. She settles on her side, draping a leg around my thigh, and begins to rub me again. She puts her head on my chest and starts suckin' my nipple. Slow and soft, almost like a baby.

And it feels really nice.

I run my hand over her ass, caressing its silky texture. So soft, so smooth. I slide my fingers towards her pussy and she shifts herself so I can reach her better. She settles again.

She's wet, she's horny, and she's comfortable.

And so am I.

We continue caressing and stroking each other. She suckles at my nipple, cupping and massaging the rest with her hand. I run my fingers over her clit and feel her excitement, its become hard and slick from my touch...I use the length of my middle finger to stroke it. I can feel the heat from her ass against the inside of my wrist. It's nestled nicely there as my finger glides smoothly from her moisture. Slow and easy.

Just like that.

I'm awake and I feel no need to rush. It feels so right, so perfect...

My baby.

We take our time...sighing softly, moaning softly...just lovin' each other.

We stroke and caress...her finger stroking me, my finger stroking her. She licks at my nipple.

"Hmmmmm," I rub my thumb over hers.

"Mmmmm," she murmurs against my breast. She sucks a little harder.

Our soft but steady pace slowly reaches its logical conclusion...

And when we come, it happens gently, like ripples crossing a pond...not waves crashin' at sea.

And when it stops, we're still again. We're smooth and serene and like glass...and not a word had been spoken.

Instinct.

I move my hand up, caressing her bottom, and then place my arm around her. She takes my hand and curls it under her chin, rubbing her face against my breast and then using it as her pillow.

I turn my head and feel the soft linen against my face. I sigh and let the down feathers cradle my neck. I stroke her hair, entwining my fingers with the golden strands near her crown. We hold each other as we fall gently back to sleep.

Her pillow, her she-pup...

My Queen.

"Uh, B..." I say quietly, gesturing at Cordelia with my head.

"What, baby?" she says back.

I motion with my eyes to what Cordy is doin'.

"Oh," she says, getting my meaning.

"Um, you know what, Cordy? I changed my mind. I think Faith and I will grab something to eat in Boy's Town. We still have to pick up a few things for tonight's costume party."

Buffy and I are in the kitchen. Cordy is makin' breakfast for her tuba player and she-moose. They're still in her room.

Cordy is using a hand blender and whippin' up some eggs.

The sound the gadget makes is a little too much like last night's sounds. God knows what else she's used it for.

I just hope it was with a different attachment. Ouch.

"You sure? I've got plenty of eggs here," she says, not lookin' up.

"Uh, yeah, REAL sure there, Cor." I make a face at Buffy.

"What are you going as tonight?" Cordy asks, breakin' in another egg.

"Don't ask," I tell her. I can't believe I agreed to do this.

"Oh, Faith. It will be fun, you'll see," Buffy encourages.

Ronald had invited us to go to a costume party that one of his friends is having. It's supposed to be the 'invite of the gay season'. Halloween isn't the only time the boys like to play dress-up.

"Is Angel going too?" Cordy asks, adding beer to the mixture.

What the fuck is she makin'? A beer-belly omlette?

"Yeah, he told Ronald he'd be his date. Whatcha got there, Cor? You fixin' a Red-neck breakfast?"

She adds another bottle.

"Yep, Saint Paulie's Girl. You never forget your first girl, you know."

Well, she must have a pretty good memory cus the two upstairs are definitely not her first. Two hundred and fifty-first, maybe.

But she's right. I never forgot my first girl either. And it wasn't a Saint Paulie's Girl. It was a Singapore Girl.

A stewardess from Singapore airlines. My baby, Cin-Cin. I called her my little China doll. A long, long time ago.

"Sounds delish, Cor. Uh, we'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay," She adds another girl and whips it up.

I grab B and head out to the garage. I got Ronald's PT Cruiser for our trek into town. He bought it on a whim and now was havin' second thoughts. It really wasn't his style, but he got it after cruising Will Rogers beach and snaggin' a few surfers.

"To carry their 'sticks'," he said slyly, "And they have such big sticks, don't you know."

I toss the keys over at B. She gets all excited and gives me a squeal and a kiss.

Fuck, it's not my trannie this time. Go for it.

"Oh baby, this is unbelievable," she says, pulling out smoothly from the garage.

No shit. This is FUCKING unbelievable.

She maneuvers her way across town. Stopping at red lights and driving up hills. She didn't stall once.

"Baby, this is definitely the car for me," I gotta agree with her.

Automatic transmissions are a definite must. I shoulda thought of that before. Duh.

We stop for brunch at the French Market Place on Santa Monica Boulevard. It's as busy as a bee hive and all the boys were buzzin'.

Some girls too.

"Look, baby, Dorothy's Surrender," She points to a gift shop inside the Market Place.

"Yeah, baby. The boys are big on the Wizard of Oz references."

"I see that," she agrees.

We order and eat our meal. We get a few looks from some of the gals in the place. Look all you want, ladies, but this beauty is mine. I lean across the table and give Buffy a lingering kiss.

"Mmm. That was nice, Faith. But what was it for?"

"Do I need a reason to kiss my girlfriend?" I ask, brow raised.

"No, baby. Give me another." So I do.

A flash goes off.

"Ladies, I have to say we all think you're the shit. Mind if we put you in this year's Christopher Street West Pride Magazine?"

Buffy looks up surprised.

But I don't. I know we look wicked fine.

"Sure, no problem. What's your name?" I ask the blonde-haired looker, shakin' her hand.

"Cristina. But you can call me Lionheart. Or Mythic, for short."

I look at the mane of hair she's got and it fits perfect.

It's fuckin' gorgeous.

"Nice to meet you, Mythic Cristina. You the keeper of records for the drama of Gay Pride?"

"Um, not really. But I like to help out behind the curtain, so to speak."

Another Wizard of Oz reference. Cool.

She gives us her card and then promises to send us some copies of the magazine. She asked us to pose a few more times, so we did. We got a lot of attention from the other patrons and Buffy was lovin' it.

Hell, so was I.

"Oooo Faith, can you lift your tank up just a little so we can get a good pic of your fabulous abs?" Mythic asks.

I look at B and she smiles, shrugging at me.

Okay.

I raise my tank with my fingers. But just a little and really, really slow.

"Tease!" we hear from a table of girls across the way.

"What? You want this?" I ask innocently, pointing at my stomach.

"YES!!!" screams the same table and a few others.

Well, hot damn. Look at that.

I give them a sexy look and let my fingers creep. Up, just a little, a little more...and then finally bring the fabric under my breasts.

"Hooooooooooooo!" a wave of female voices chorus.

And then the chanting started.

"MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE."

I look at the room, men and women alike. All were gettin' into the gay spirit of things.

My people.

I point at myself questioningly. I raise an eyebrow.

"YES YES YES YES YES YES YES," with rhythmic clapping along with it.

I give them a confused look. Then slowly turn myself to point my finger at Buffy.

There's my deer. Little Bambi.

She looks like she's about to be run over by a Mack truck.

"YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS! YES YES YES YES YES!" a roar from the room.

Poor thing is frozen.

I'm such a shit.

I turn my back and shake my head at the crowd. I raise my hands in the air and give a gesture of "Oh well" with a dramatic flair at the end...

Only to feel my tank top being lifted right off me.

What the fuck??

The room goes wild and people start laughin' and clappin'. I turn around and Buffy is bein' held up by a giant drag queen and she's got my shirt in her hands. She's grinning at me and shrugging, like it wasn't her fault.

Like the giant Marilyn Monroe MADE her do it. Riiiight.

He backs up with Buffy still in the air. I throw them a wicked grin and approach them in my bra and jeans. Buffy looks panicked but Marilyn has got a good grip on her, so she can't do anything. She pretty much looks like a rag doll with feet dangling in the air.

Oh yeah. She's in for a world of trouble.

"GET HER GET HER GET HER GET HER," the room chants.

Buffy's eyes flash a warning to me. Nobody else gets it, but I do. Have your fun, it says. But watch it.

If you ever wanna have sex with me again, that is.

Signals and signs. Or is it instinct? Damn.

I walk up slowly and wrap my arms below Buffy's knees. I bury my face against her stomach and loosen my arms a little. Marilyn lowers Buffy and she slides down my face, her shirt raising a little with it.

We're skin to skin and the crowd goes wild.

Her shirt rises to below her breasts and my face gets buried between them. I rub my nose against her shirt and Marilyn steps away, leaving Buffy hangin' in my arms. I raise my head and look up at her, tightening my arms around her ass. She smiles at me and uses her fingers to brush away some hair that has fallen across my face.

I love when she does that. And she does it all the time.

"KISS HER KISS HER KISS HER KISS HER KISS HER."

She lowers her head, cupping my face with her hands, and she does.

The room explodes with clapping and loud cheering. I loosen my arms and she slides the rest of the way down my body until she is standing. And now I'm the one lowering my head to kiss her.

But just a little. I'm not really that much taller.

We're a perfect fit actually.

And the room thinks so too.

We break our kiss and the room gives one last chant.

"LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE."

And we feel it.

From all of them.

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