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The characters of Xena and Gabrielle are the sole property of MCA/Universal. No copyright infringement is intended by their usage here.
Violence Alert: There is no violence here.
Sex Alert: There is no sex here. A lot of you probably saw the title and came here thinking oh boy, sex, sex, sex, and more sex. Nope. Nada. The title refers to the length of the story, not anything that happens therein. It was really just a cheap ploy to get people here.
Luciano stared up, slack-jawed, at possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life. Indigo eyes he could melt into. A mane of silky black hair framing an exotic, gorgeous face. Six feet of curves which the standard issue blue FBI jacket couldn't even begin to hide. This incredible woman would have easily commanded his full attention, even without the 9mm Glock she held roughly against his forehead.
Agent Zamphi leans down to whisper in his ear. "I have a very accurate firearm pointed at your brain. You'll be dead in two minutes if you don't tell us where your boss is..."
"Stop that!" Rolling her eyes, the agent looks towards the source of the interruption. Her new partner. Her very young, very inexperienced, very ... sexy new partner. 'Whoa, wait a minute, don't even think about going there,' she inwardly chastises her overactive imagination. The last thing she needed during this investigation was that kind of distraction.
Special Agent Gally, a petite young blond woman fresh out of the academy, had not been Zamphi's choice for this task, or any other for that matter. One look at those hazel eyes, cute button nose, and slim figure told her that it could get ... well, distracting. But the director, adamant that their wildly different skills would complement each other nicely, had signed off on their partnership and within 14 hours they were making their first bust together.
"Let me handle this my way," Zamphi growls, turning her attention back to the Glock positioned against the sweaty brow of her hostage.
"Does your way always include a gun?"
"No. As a matter of fact, it doesn't." Zamphi tosses the Glock to the side and in the same motion reaches behind the doorway and pulls out ... a 10 pound bag of Idaho Golden Potatoes.
"Now then, where were we...," she sneers, pulling out a spud and thrusting it at the dumbstruck mobster.
Gally slumps down against the wall, shaking her head. She looks towards the tall beauty, her hazel-green eyes flashing angrily, "Uber-story, you big dumb agent, not tuber..."
My apologies to anyone who read this. I know what a really, really bad pun it is (although I can do even worse...). How can you blame me when TPTB gave us Vanishing Act, King Con, A Comedy of Eros, etc., etc, etc.? THEY STARTED IT... Comments\feedback\shoes are greatly appreciated (especially the shoes) and may be sent to: RaXenaWP@aol.com
Don't believe I can do worse? Read on....
The following is really bad. Please don't read it.
A QUICKIE, Part II
Sally walks into the bar, grumbling the whole way. Five out of the seven heads in the place turn and watch her walk past, pretty blonds being a rare occurrence in Sal's Saloon. Ignoring the leers, she stakes out a stool at the end of the bar and plunks her inordinately large purse down next to her, discouraging any would-be leeches. Motioning for the bartender, she turns her attention to the pretzel bowl, digging into it busily with a determination usually reserved for life-and-death situations.
"Yes?" The barkeep drawls into the top of the young woman's head, which is bent down low over the pretzels searching for something.
"Hey, you got any cheese goldfish, or peanuts, or something other than..." as the woman leans back to face the bartender her words stop, her mind stammers, and every speck of coherent thought rushes from her head in a stampede. Wow. Sally blinks. Wow.
"Yes?" The bartender drops her voice even lower, a smile playing around her lips.
'This is one hell of a beautiful woman,' Sally thinks, wondering if she is staring. Wondering if she should say something. Wondering why this incredibly tall creature with a mane of black flowing hair is starting to giggle at her...
"Oh!" Sally tries not to blush and fails miserably. Thinking she's made a fool of herself enough for one evening, she tries not to swoon as she leans towards the woman and orders her drink.
"Well, why didn't you just say so..." the bartender says, quickly shucking off her top and Levi's. Sally looks on, drooling but confused, as the woman bends down and pulls on a leather outfit, some sort of low cut bustier number with a short skirt. Topping it off with swirly patterned brass armor, she sticks a sword in the scabbard on her back and turns around.
"Well?" Raising an eyebrow, she puts both hands on her hips, almost knocking off some sort of round thingy hung there. It takes the petite blond a full minute to find her voice.
"I ordered a ZIMA, not a XENA..."
I asked you not to read this. I'll not respond to the flames you're sure to send to RaXenaWP@aol.com
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