Best and Brightest, Part 5


Nuria drowsed in Quentin's arms for a while, letting herself be pet
and stroked. She was nearly asleep when Quentin said, "Come on. Let's
go to bed."

"Mmm," she murmured drowsily. "Sleep here. Like a campout."

Quentin chuckled, "The fire's already banked. Once it burns down, it's
going to get cold in here without blankets. And besides, the rug is
drenched in sweat."

Nuria sat up a little, "Yeah. I guess we are, too."

Quentin stretched, "Stay here for a minute. I'll get you a robe."

Nuria lay and stared at the fire, which had indeed burned low. Next to
the fireplace was a small pyramid of firewood. Next to it was a box,
recessed into the wall, where Quentin had gotten the synthetic "log"
that now lay on the hearth.

Quentin came back, holding an embroidered red kimono out to her. Nuria
rose and backed into it, letting Quentin dress her. The silk against
her skin was like a lover's touch.

"The bathroom is warming up now," he said. "Come into the dressing
room. You can pick out some clothes."

Nuria followed him through a door into a room that was really more of
an enormous, walk-in closet. One long wall was covered with his
clothes on hangers. The other wall was empty. In between the walls, a
long rack of women's clothes had been wheeled in.

Nuria's eyes widened, "Quentin, what is this?"

Quentin smiled, "The service must have let Penny do the shopping for
you. She can be a bit enthusiastic sometimes."

Nuria looked down the row, "Quentin, this is more clothes than I've
ever owned at one time."

Quentin shrugged, "Anything you don't want, I can have them come by
and pick up."

Feeling a little bit faint, Nuria leaned back against him, "I don't
think I can take any of it."

Quentin wrapped his arms around her, "Does that mean you don't like
the robe, either?" As he spoke, his hands started to untie the belt
that held her kimono shut.

Nuria caught his wrists weakly, "I...the robe is lovely. And, I would
be cold without it."

"Well, then," said Quentin, detaching from her and walking over to the
clothing rack, "you'll need something to sleep in, too." He pulled a
hanger off the rack revealing a pair of emerald green silk pajamas."

Nuria laughed, "Quentin, I swear you are the devil incarnate. What are
the odds you'd let me keep them on until morning anyway?"

"Well," admitted Quentin. "I would probably let you put them back on
before morning."

"Quentin, it's just too much. I would feel like..." her words trailed
off.

"Like what?" Quentin asked, coming back to wrap his arm around her
waist and pull her to him. "Like a princess?"

Nuria laid her head on his chest. Her voice trembled when she spoke,
"Like a whore."

Quentin hugged her tighter, "Not at all like a princess?"

Nuria sniffled and laughed, fighting back tears, "Well, a little bit
like a princess, too."

Quentin looked down at her, "Well, my princess, you may be surprised
to learn that I rarely get to use what I have to make myself happy.
You can fight me on the gifts and, after a long and exasperating
battle of wills that will do neither of us any good, I might even
relent. Or, you could just let me give you gifts and know that I'm
doing it because it makes me happy."

Nuria looked at the rack of clothes again. She rubbed against Quentin
a little to feel the silk slide past her nipples. Then, she closed her
eyes and said, "My mother would never approve."

Quentin sighed, "Nuria. I..."

Nuria put a finger to his lips, "You misunderstand me, Quentin. That
was me talking myself into it. If it will make you happy, I'll accept
your gifts. Only, I wish you wouldn't spend quite so much."

Quentin's body started to shake and, for a moment, Nuria wasn't sure
it was with laughter or tears. But, the nearly-muffled chuckles that
followed were unmistakable.

"Quentin, what's funny?"

Quentin kissed the top of her head, "Nuria, you don't ever have to
worry about my money. When they decided to make the first book into a
movie, I set up a fund so that, even if I never sold another book, I
would never have to worry about money again. I make sure that a
percentage of everything I make goes into that fund. I could live very
well off of that fund for the rest of my life if I needed to. So could
my children, should I ever choose to have any."

Nuria smiled, "Is that why you're willing to take a chance with the
new book?"

Quentin laughed, "Make no mistake, Nuria. I may not be crazy about
every aspect of success, but I do know that I prefer it over failure.
This is the book I want to write, but one of the reasons that I want
it is because I'm trying to declare my independence from Perihelion. I
signed a contract with them before I was established and they're
making a mint off of it now. They also have too much editorial
control. Writing this book was a win-win situation for me. Perihelion
would either take a pass on it or be forced to acknowledge that I can
write whatever I damned well please."

"Read 'A Brother to Dragons,' when you get a chance. It may have
started out as the breakaway novel, but it's actually turning into the
kind of story that Hollywood eats up. But, if we make a movie from it,
we're making it under my terms. I'm going to be like George Lucas,
just without Jar Jar Binks."

"Without who?" Nuria asked.

Quentin laughed, "You don't get out to the movies much, do you?"

Nuria shook her head, "It wasn't really in the budget."

Quentin gave her a crooked half-smile, "Come on. I'm sure the bathroom
is warmed up by now."

Nuria took the hanger from his hand as she went by.

                                -=-

Quentin behaved himself in the shower nearly as well as Pearl had
earlier in the day. His hands never seemed to leave Nuria's body for
more than a few seconds. When they got out, he was very thorough in
drying her off. All of the attention had her body humming for another
round.

"It's about ten o'clock," said Quentin. "Are you up for a movie?"

Nuria was pulling on the pajamas. After protesting that she didn't
want to feel like a whore, she found herself unwilling to say what she
was really up for. So, she said, "It's not too long, is it?"

"Nope," said Quentin, "and it's not a school night."

"Okay," said Nuria.

"Cool," said Quentin. "Would you like to retire to the viewing room to
watch it or just cuddle up under the covers?"

"Mmmm," said Nuria. "Cuddling sounds nice."

A few minutes later, they were lying in bed together. Quentin had
produced a high-tech looking remote control from the bedside table and
was pressing its screen in rapid, practiced movement. After pressing
enough on-screen buttons to have typed a letter, the TV screen on the
wall sprung into life. Nuria had mistaken the screen for a print
earlier, not realizing that the bucolic scene it showed was only a
projection.

After a few seconds of a blue screen that announced that a movie was
being accessed, the opening scroll of Star Wars, Episode I started.
Quentin provided a running commentary that managed to be mostly
unobtrusive.

At least, it was unobtrusive until Jar-Jar Binks showed up on screen.
Then, he said, "This is where Lucas lost it and, in the process, lost
a lot of his old fan-base."

Nuria watched for a little while, then said, "He is rather obnoxious,
isn't he?"

"He's worse than obnoxious," said Quentin. "He's like a combination of
Barney and Stepin Fetchit."

"Who's Stepin Fetchit?" asked Nuria.

Quentin launched into an explanation of the career of actor Stepin
Fetchit, who he said played the "lovable, black bumpkin" from the
1930s to the 1950s. After a minute, he interrupted himself to pause
the TV, saying, "I want you to see this part." Then, he went on to
talk about the way Hollywood had co-opted the minstrel tradition to
fulfill its own agenda. In the five-minute lecture, he mentioned more
than two dozen film titles, actors, and actresses that Nuria had never
heard of.

Nuria found herself grinning in the semi-darkness. Sometimes, Quentin
was so serious that she almost couldn't see the boy she'd known so
long ago. At times like this, the boy clearly showed through. His
enthusiasm was infectious and led Nuria to ask a few questions that
roughly doubled the length of the discussion.

Nuria discovered that she was actually looking forward to seeing the
rest of the movie now, but still had to ask, "You know, from the way
you talked earlier, I would have thought you hated movies. But, you
seem to know an awful lot about them."

"I love movies," said Quentin. "I used to dream that somebody would
make a movie out of one of my books. It's the particular movies that
they made. They're so close to being faithful to the books, but
completely Disneyfy the themes. Queen Rayeth has a speech in the
middle of the first book about the order of preference in states of
being as independence, interdependence, dependence, and failure. It
was even in the original script, but got cut as 'too wordy.' It really
got cut because it didn't fit the story any more. The message of the
movie is that the best state in the world is the weird sort of
co-dependence that Princess Malena and John Brubaker have. In the
books, they're two very competent and independent people that
initially don't like, but respect each other. In the movies, they're
more like Han Solo and Princess Leia. They squabble, but you know
that, deep down, they have the hots for each other. And, they're
constantly saving each other from situations that I initially wrote
them as saving themselves from."

Quentin took a deep breath and laughed, "Of course, authors hating
what Hollywood has done to their books is hardly news. And, I want you
to see this part." He restarted the movie.

At some point during the movie, Nuria reached up and absent-mindedly
rubbed the back of her neck. Quentin paused the movie again, "Come
here."

Nuria looked at him, surprised, "Didn't you want to watch the rest of
the movie?"

Quentin laughed, "This we can do while we watch the movie. Come sit
between my legs, facing the foot of the bed."

Nuria did as he had asked. After restarting the movie, he laid his
hands on her shoulders, about an inch away from her neck on either
side and began to rub her in small, tight circles, his touch initially
feather-light, but gradually more aggressive. As he worked, he
continued his unobtrusive running commentary.

"Quentin," Nuria asked after a few minutes of this treatment, "am I
supposed to be able to pay attention to the movie like this?"

Quentin nodded against the top of her head, "That's why I didn't
suggest you take off your top. Besides, I'm being gentle."

Nuria let out a little moan of release as Quentin homed in on a
particularly tense spot.

"I could stop if you like," Quentin said, chuckling throatily.

Nuria let out a relaxed sigh, "No. That won't be necessary."

"So, you like?" Nuria could almost hear Quentin leering behind her.

Nuria nodded, "I think you and Pearl should compare notes."

Because she was pressed against him, back to torso, Nuria felt Quentin
stiffen a little in arousal. At the same time, he lost the rhythm of
his rubbing, then found it again. She probably wouldn't have even
noticed the slip if she weren't pressed against him.

Nuria smiled to herself. If the idea of Pearl rubbing her neck could
get Quentin worked up, she'd better not tell him the rest. She might
kill the poor boy. Experimentally, she wriggled her bottom against him
and felt an even stronger response. This time, Quentin didn't falter
in working her back. His self-control intrigued Nuria, but she also
considered it a challenge. Slowly and subtly, she began to grind
against him, trying not to make her actions so obvious that Quentin
would have to comment on any particular motion as being overt. As
Nuria wiggled, Quentin stiffened until he was rock hard, but didn't
break pace with the rubbing or stop talking about the movie.

As the credits rolled, Nuria looked back at Quentin, disappointed that
she hadn't been able to distract him. Then, she saw the look of
intense concentration on his face. Leaning back into his chest, she
felt how taut his muscles were and realized that his composure was an
act of intense self-control.

Emboldened, Nuria reached back and stroked the back of Quentin's neck.
"So," she asked throatily, "do you want to watch another movie?"

In response, Quentin wrapped an arm around her waist, lifted her a
little bit off of the bed, then flung her forward, keeping his arm
around her so that he fell on top of her. Crouching menacingly, he
growled, "You are such a tease."

Nuria panted under the weight of him and the feel of his body through
two layers of silk, "I am not." She protested.

Quentin's hands were on the waistband of her pants, gripping it like
he was about to pull them off, "And what do you call what you just
did?"

"Not teasing," said Nuria. "Teases don't put out. That was more of a
promise."

Quentin did as his hands had threatened, shucking Nuria's pants in a
single motion that left her naked from the waist down. Nuria squealed
in mock protest, but was laughing too.

"I am going to fuck you so hard," Quentin growled in her ear, his
voice quavering a little.

"Brute," Nuria said, her voice teasing. "Do you think that dinner and
a movie..."

She didn't get to finish the thought. Quentin's cock was already
pressed against her, demanding entry.

Nuria thought she wasn't primed, but opened her legs and braced
herself for a rough entry. Instead, she realized that she was already
wet enough to take the first thrust with only the slightest of
pulling. My the third or fourth stroke, Quentin was driving into her
in long, easy strokes.

"God," she moaned. "You're an animal."

"I got...the sense..." Quentin said between thrusts, "that you liked
it that way."

Nuria nodded emphatically, too overcome and winded to respond in
words. Without breaking his stride, Quentin caught her wrists, one in
each hand, and drew them together over her head. Nuria moaned in
pleasure and approval.

After Quentin transferred her wrists to one hand, Nuria felt him wrap
the belt from his robe around them and tie it in an overhand knot.

Momentarily, Quentin stopped his thrusting, staying sheathed inside of
her. His chuckle was pure wickedness, "So, my beauty. What happens
next?"

"I'm at your mercy," Nuria pointed at. "I think that's pretty much up
to you."

Quentin pulled her wrists up above her head, securing them to the
wooden slats at the foot of the bed. Nuria moaned as he shifted his
weight, moving inside her.

Quentin wrapped his arm around her waist again, lifting her up a
little. With his other hand, he unbuttoned her pajama top, rubbing the
shaft of his cock back and forth between her legs so that it held her
open the tiniest bit, making delicate contact with the sensitive skin
inside. Quentin seemed to relish the act, going very slowly. When she
was completely unbuttoned, he pulled the shirt over her head, turning
it inside out until it hung over the end of the bed by Nuria's wrists.

"You know," he purred, "you have a really beautiful ass. Has anyone
ever told you that?"

Nuria managed to chuckle, "Not since...not in a few years."

"And I do have you at my mercy," Quentin pointed out.

"Oh, God," Nuria moaned in anticipation.

Quentin pressed the head of his cock against the rosebud of her ass.
He held it there for just a few seconds before sliding into her,
slowly, but steadily. Nuria spread her legs and moaned her
appreciation.

It didn't take long for Nuria to be overcome with pleasure, her climax
bursting across the insides of her eyelids like fireworks. She lost
track of time, the pleasure ebbing and flowing around her through a
second and third orgasm before Quentin finally erupted inside her.

As he rolled off her, Nuria tried to roll towards him, to nuzzle into
his chest. She found that she had pulled so hard against her silken
bond that she'd distressed the weave and made the knot into a
permanent fixture.

"Quentin, I don't think I can get out of this."

"I know, dear. That's rather the point."

Nuria contemplated this for a moment. She'd never actually been bound
in a way that she couldn't get herself out of before. Pete had been
willing to tie her up after a year of hints and coaxing, but it had
been infrequent and, ultimately, symbolic. Quentin, on the other hand,
had done it without coaxing and done it in such a way that Nuria was
genuinely at his mercy.

Nuria decided that she didn't have much to lose by playing the fantasy
out farther, "Please, master," she asked demurely, "would you please
untie me?"

Quentin laughed, rolling so that he was up on one elbow, watching her.
His eyes traced up and down her body.

"Well, Miss Delgado," he asked. "What's in it for me?"

Nuria rolled to face him, "Anything you ask."

Quentin chuckled wickedly, "Anything?"

Nuria shivered and said, "Anything that is mine to give."

Quentin didn't answer for so long that Nuria thought she'd gone too
far and ruined something. When he spoke, he said calmly, "Let me spoil
you."

"What?"

Quentin smiled, "I've only got two weeks before I have to go away. For
that time, let me spoil you. You may protest any gift I give you if
you don't like it or if it offends your sensibilities. But, I don't
want to hear one word of protest that I'm being too extravagant."

"I..." Nuria started to protest, but stopped. If she objected now, the
fantasy would be over. A chill ran over her body and she had to
swallow before speaking again, "I thought you were going to ask for
something easy, like sex."

Quentin laughed, "Do I need to tie you up for sex?"

Nuria shook her head.

"Will you do this thing for me?"

Nuria nodded, a tear coming to her eye, "If that's what you want."

Quentin cradled her chin, "Is it really that hard for you?"

Nuria nodded.

"Because it makes you feel like a whore?"

Another nod.

"So," said Quentin, "is that really such a bad thing to be?"

"It's not...It's not how I think of myself."

"But, is it so bad?"

"Quentin," Nuria said, wriggling, "this is starting to cut off my
circulation."

Quentin rose, went into the bathroom, and came back moments later with
a scissor.

"Roll over," he said, "on your back."

Doing so made the belt bite more deeply into Nuria's wrists, but it
was only a moment before Quentin cut the restraint, releasing her.
Nuria brought her wrists down, rubbing them.

Quentin, who was now straddling her stomach took one of her wrists,
rubbed it and asked, "So, is it so bad to be a whore?"

Nuria nodded, "I was raised to think it was the worst thing in the
world to be. Well, that or a Protestant."

"So, are you refusing or talking yourself into it?" Quentin asked,
grinning.

Nuria turned her head to break eye contact, "If you want, I'll be your
whore, master."

Quentin leaned down, pushing Nuria's wrists above her head as he
descended to kiss her mouth, "And cut out the 'master' stuff." Then,
seeing the disappointment in her eyes, he added, "Just call me
'Quentin' in the same voice you would say 'master' in and I'll know
what you mean."

Nuria found herself tearing up again. Quentin looked down at her,
"Nuria, what's the matter?"

For a moment, Nuria couldn't answer. Quentin slid down her legs and
gathered her into his arms, pressing her head to his chest.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?"

Finally, Nuria managed to choke out, "Quentin, I'm scared."

Quentin hugged her, "Of what?"

"Of you," she whispered in his ear. "Quentin, I've never been like
this with anyone. I've wanted to, but even Pete didn't understand me
well enough to be...like this. How did you know?"

Quentin leaned down to kiss away her tears, "I didn't. I just decided
to push for what I wanted until you said 'stop.' So far, you haven't."

"Quentin," Nuria hugged herself to his chest, "be good to me."

Quentin hugged her even more fiercely, crushing some of the breath out
of her, "I will, Nuria. I promise."

                                 -=-

Nuria left early the next day. She was reluctant to go; Quentin was
reluctant to let her. But, she had so much to do for the next day, it
was starting to make her crazy. Still, she waited for the last
possible minute she felt that she could to leave.

When she got home, both of her roommates were in the living room
watching football. As soon as Nuria walked in, they both looked up.

"Oh my God, Miss D," said Carla. "There you are. I can't believe you
left yesterday without tellin' me nothin'."

"Well," said Nuria. "Now, I have more to tell."

She hadn't scheduled for this, but Nuria knew there would be no
getting out of it. She sat in the overstuffed chair and told them
about the events of the previous two days, leaving out most of the
prurient details. After a thorough grilling by both Pearl and Carla,
Nuria gave out far more details than she was comfortable doing. She
managed not to mention any of the role play, though.

"Wow," said Carla finally, "I need a man like that. Does he have a
brother?"

Nuria shook her head, "Two older sisters. I taught both of them."

Carla shrugged, "They'd do in a pinch."

"So," asked Nuria casually, "how's Emil?"

Pearl favored Nuria with a little smirk as Carla launched into a long
spiel on how wonderful Emil was as if to say, "I caught you changing
the subject." But, a few minutes later, she was asking a question that
led Carla into another long speech.

                            -=-

Nuria managed to escape to her room around three thirty. She got about
two hours into reading when Pearl knocked on the door.

"Nuria, honey. There's a delivery you need to sign for."

Nuria came out into the living room to find a woman with a clipboard
waiting for her while a well-muscled man in a gray uniform wheeled in
a dolly loaded with department store garment boxes.

"What is this?" Nuria asked, even though she had a sinking feeling
that she already knew.

The woman with the clipboard smiled, "Mr. Edwards asked us to bring
these over. He said you didn't have time to go through them yet."

"He sent over all the clothes?" Nuria asked, starting to feel
overwhelmed.

The woman with the clipboard smiled gently, "Miss Delgado?"

Nuria turned her attention to the woman, "Yes?"

Placing her clipboard on the living room table, the woman extended a
hand, which Nuria shook, "Alleston Life Services will be happy to take
back anything that doesn't meet your standards. We have a thirty-day
return policy or, if you like, I can wait here while you decide what
you would like to keep. My name is Penny."

"I don't have time to try all of this on," Nuria said, panic rising in
her voice. "I've got work to do before tomorrow."

"If you would like," said Penny in the same clipped, business-like
tones that she'd used up until now, "I would be happy to stand in as
your personal stylist and select a wardrobe for you. If you would like
to look at a few specific outfits and tell me what you like or dislike
about them, it should give me enough information to determine whether
you would wear the rest."

"I..." Nuria looked to her roommates for guidance. Pearl's face was
unreadable, but Carla was almost bouncing with vicarious joy.
"I...guess I could look at a few outfits."

Penny smiled, "Great. James will get the rest and then we can start."

"The rest?" Nuria asked weakly.

Penny waved away her concern, "Just a few things that needed to be
hung up in transit."

Those "few things" turned out to be a rack full of clothes that took
some angling to get into the apartment.

In between the absurdity of the situation and her own internal
conflict, Nuria was sure she was going to faint. She didn't, though.
At Pearl and Carla's prompting, she got through the process and even
allowed herself to enjoy the process after a while.

Every time she rejected an outfit, Penny made some sort of cryptic
hand signal to James, who took a few outfits off the racks or some of
the unopened boxes and removed them from the apartment. When she was
finished going through the "few select outfits," she looked at what
was left and frowned.

"I still don't have enough room for all of this."

Penny coughed demurely into her hand, then said, "If you would like,
James and I can take away anything you would like to donate to the
Salvation Army from your current wardrobe--if you wanted to make
room."

Nuria was ready to say "no" out of hand, but Pearl spoke up, "These
new clothes, do they belong to Nuria or Quentin?"

Penny smiled, "Mr. Edwards specified that these were a gift. They
belong to Miss Delgado."

Nuria gave a questioning look at Pearl, who nodded at her. Sighing,
she rose and, with much care and deliberation, took three outfits down
and laid them on the bed. Penny, Pearl, and Carla were watching her
carefully.

"All right," she said. "I'll keep these three. Take the rest."

                            -=-

When Penny and James had loaded her closet, wheeled out the rack, and
removed the last signs of their passing through, Nuria sat down on her
bed, feeling exhausted as if she had spent hours in hard physical
labor.

Carla looked like she wanted to say something, but Pearl waved her to
silence. Instead, Carla smiled at Nuria, nodded, and left the room.

"Are you okay?" Pearl asked quietly.

"Sure," said Nuria. "I'm living every woman's dream. Why wouldn't I be
okay?"

"The why, I don't know," said Pearl sitting down next to her. "All I
know is that you look like you're going to burst into tears any minute
and you sound like you just wandered away from the scene of a car
crash."

Nuria tried to laugh and reassure her friend. Instead, it came out as
a choked sob. Pearl wrapped her arms around Nuria, drawing her into a
tight hug. Nuria wept, clinging to Pearl. She wouldn't have been able
to explain why she was crying, but Pearl didn't seem inclined to ask,
either. When she stopped crying and raised her head, Pearl handed her
a box of Kleenex. Finally, Nuria was able to laugh. She blew her nose
and dabbed her eyes.

"Feel better?" asked Pearl.

Nuria nodded, "Thanks. I needed that."

"Want to talk about it?"

"I'm not sure I know what to say," admitted Nuria. "I just feel so
overwhelmed. Everything that's happening is all so wonderful, but it's
overwhelming. I can't process it all at once. I just want to turn off
all the lights and hide in the dark for like a week."

Pearl laughed and hugged her again, "Would that help?"

Nuria shook her head in the negative, "I've got so much reading to do
before work tomorrow, too."

"Anything I can help with?"

"I don't think so," said Nuria. "I really need to get a sense of this
manuscript for my meeting on Monday.

"Can I help you relax for it?"

Nuria gave Pearl a dirty look, "I'm not sure what you're offering, but
I suspect that, whatever it is, it would mean I get less reading done,
not more."

Pearl laughed, "You know me too well. But, if you like, I could do
something innocuous like make us dinner."

Nuria looked at her clock. It wasn't quite four, "All right. Maybe in
a couple of hours if that would be all right."

"Want me to make sure you have some quiet and privacy to read?"

Nuria nodded, "That would be wonderful. You're so sweet."

Pearl's grin was diabolical, "Don't believe it for a second."

                            -=-

Nuria didn't finish Quentin's manuscript until long after midnight. As
much as she wanted to get ready for work the next day, she found
herself lingering over dinner with her roommates and filling them in
on far more details of her relationship with Quentin than she would
have thought herself capable of. They were just so non-judgmental that
it was easy to talk. The only question they raised (and it was Pearl
naturally,) was, "Is this what you want?"

"Yes," said Nuria. "But, it scares the hell out of me."

"That's a cool combination," said Carla. "It sounds like being on a
roller coaster."

Nuria laughed, "I always hated roller coasters."

Carla smiled knowingly, "I think you're going to like this one."

By the time dinner was over, it was getting late. Nuria sighed, "I'm
going to be up late. I really need to get back to it."

"All right, sweetie," said Pearl. "Don't stay up too late. You need to
look good tomorrow."

Nuria sighed at the memory of that conversation when she finally
turned off her bedroom light. Her alarm clock's digital red numbers
glowed at her in the darkness as if accusing her with the numbers
"2:04."

                            -=-

Nuria growled a few choice profanities in Spanish when that same clock
buzzed at her less than five hours later. Groping for the snooze
button, she wondered where that had come from. She hadn't spoken
Spanish regularly since she'd used it on the job. She certainly hadn't
used it to swear very often even then.

Before she could wonder at the vagaries of her semi-conscious mind,
Nuria's nostrils caught the unmistakable scent of freshly-brewed
coffee. Her eyes opened in surprise. Her roommates were sweet, but she
couldn't remember seeing either of them up before ten a.m. ever.

Even so, as she staggered into the kitchen, she saw Pearl working a
whisk in a bowl of eggs. Her hair was tied back in a scrunchy, but
otherwise looked like she hadn't touched it since waking up.  She wore
a long, red sleep shirt and slippers. When she saw Nuria staggering
into the kitchen, she tilted her head towards the coffee maker and
grunted.

As tempting as the coffee was, Nuria went first to Pearl, wrapping her
arms around the younger woman's waist, hugging her, and placing a kiss
between her shoulder blades. Pearl put down the bowl and whisk, turned
to face Nuria, and hugged her back.

"I can't believe you did this," said Nuria. "Did you actually get up
to make me breakfast?"

Pearl nodded, breaking the hug, "You were up awfully late last night.
I just wanted to make sure you got a good start today. Go sit down and
I'll bring you your breakfast."

Nuria nodded and sat down. Pearl brought her a cup of coffee and
asked, "How do you like your grits?"

Nuria laughed, "I have no idea. I've never eaten grits. We have grits
here?"

Pearl nodded, "Instant grits anyway. We keep them up by the oatmeal."

Nuria hadn't realized they had oatmeal either. She didn't mention it.
Talking would interfere with her coffee drinking. Instead, she said,
"Surprise me, then."

When Pearl brought her second cup of coffee, Nuria said, "I still
can't believe you got up this early to make me breakfast."

Pearl's smile actually seemed a little bashful, "It's not really that
big of a deal. As soon as you're out that door, I'm back in bed."

Nuria nodded, wishing she could do the same.

A combination of caffeine and willpower kept her from dozing off
during her shower. Afterwards, she felt awake enough to face her day.
Unfortunately, she was also awake enough to start thinking about what
was ahead of her. The enormity of what loomed before her hit her
halfway across the living room causing her stomach to heave suddenly.
She'd already turned back towards the bathroom before she got it under
control. For a moment, she stood swaying in the middle of the room,
thinking she might faint. When she looked up, Pearl was holding her by
both arms, looking down at her with concern clearly etched on her
face.

"Nuria, are you okay?"

"Oh, Pearl," she said weakly. "What am I doing? I can't do this. I'm
not an editor--not the kind of editor they're looking for. I can't do
this. I can't."

Lifting one hand to the side of Nuria's face, Pearl leaned down and
kissed her passionately on the mouth. Nuria was left speechless, her
eyes wide open.

When she found her voice, she asked, "What was that for?"

Pearl smiled gently, "Slapping's not my style."

Nuria reached up and touched her lips, which still seemed to be
vibrating from the kiss, "I guess I was a little bit hysterical,
wasn't I?"

Pearl nodded.

"I still don't know what I'm going to do," said Nuria, her voice only
a whisper.

"You're going to go in, listen to the boss tell you what they want,
and figure out how to give it to them. That's what every job boils
down to."

Nuria swallowed nervously, steeling herself to accept what Pearl told
her.

"Besides," said Pearl, "you have one huge advantage. Nobody expects
you to be able to do it. The only way you can surprise them is
pleasantly."

"I'm not sure that's entirely comforting," said Nuria.

"Go get dressed," said Pearl. "I'll be out here in the living room if
you need me."

Nuria dressed in a navy blazer and skirt and cream-colored blouse.
She'd picked the outfit yesterday specifically for today. It was
tastefully expensive, neither stodgy nor outrageous. She thought about
tying her hair back in a bun, decided it looked too severe and settled
on wearing it down the way Carla had recommended.

When she came out to ask Pearl how the outfit looked, Pearl was asleep
on the couch. Asleep with her hair down, she looked even younger than
normal. Nuria shook her head at herself. She'd slept with three people
in the past week, all of them much younger than herself. Apparently,
she'd never met a cradle she didn't want to rob.

Before she left, she went down on one knee by the couch and gently
kissed Pearl goodbye. Pearl smiled, but didn't open her eyes.

                            -=-

In spite of her best efforts, Nuria got out of the cab outside of
Aqueduct Books at five minutes after nine, got lost on her way to her
office from reception, and didn't find the place until a quarter after
the hour.

When she went inside, Mr. Geschbach was already at his desk. Standing
across the room, leaning on Nuria's desk, was the editor who'd been
evicted to make room for her. They'd been having a conversation when
she came in, but the man stopped speaking mid-sentence and glared at
her. Nuria stood in the middle of the room, frozen by the strength of
his anger. She managed to affect an aloof stare, but her knees wanted
to shake.

"Gonzalo," said Mr. Geschbach quietly, but with a note of warning in
his voice, "don't you have a meeting to get to?"

Gonzalo's eyes flickered to Mr. Geschbach, seemingly to lose little
anger in the transference. He stood up, stalking across the room to
where Nuria stood. She almost laughed from nervousness when he
stopped, standing a little bit too close to be accidental. Nuria held
her ground, refusing to step back, but she did crane her neck upward
to look at him, not because she wanted to see his face, but because
she was suddenly keenly aware of the physical power of the man in
front of her and had caught herself staring at the way his muscles
moved under the thin layer of his shirt.

He looked down at her, eyes burning into hers, raising a flush on her
face. Slowly and deliberately, his eyes traced down to her cleavage.
When she'd put the blouse on, Nuria had considered it tasteful and
understated. Now, she felt like a strumpet under Gonzalo's eyes.

She'd been able to resist flinching or backing off at the challenge
implicit in his stance, but when Gonzalo raised his hand, Nuria took a
step back, her hands starting to rise to protect herself. Rather than
striking her, he indicated the desk that had recently been his.

"Your desk, madam," he said. His words and voice were gracious. But,
in his eyes, there was still anger and something else Nuria didn't
dare analyze too closely.

"Th-thank you," she stammered and walked past Gonzalo a little too
quickly. She could feel his eyes on her as she passed and hurried to
sit behind the concealing bulk of the desk.

"If you need anything I can offer, hermana, just ask," said Gonzalo.
His voice had a purr of menace that made Nuria shiver again. Then, he
was gone.

Mr. Geschbach rumbled low in his throat before speaking. Then, he
said, "Gonzalo will be a good editor one day if he ever learns to
behave himself. He can make authors agree to things in an afternoon I
couldn't get them to do in a month. If he gives you any trouble, talk
to me. I'll keep him in line."

Nuria was surprised by the offer of assistance, but grateful. "Thank
you," she said. "I will."

"So," said Mr. Geschbach, "have you seen Wolffe's manuscript yet?"

Nuria nodded, "I have."

"Have you had a chance to read it?" 

Nuria nodded again, "Yes."

"Is it any good?"

"I...I believe so," said Nuria. "It is still somewhat disjointed
between drafts, but it is well-crafted and well-paced."

"It's not some experimental crap where he's trying to prove how artsy
and non-commercial he can be. Is it?"

"N-no," said Nuria. "Actually, it's rather...cinematic."

Mr. Geschbach breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank God. Even if it were
awful, people would read it just to see what he's doing. But, I
couldn't take another preachy, art-house book. I don't suppose he
relented and said I could read it?"

"No," said Nuria. "But, I could ask. If he knew..."

Mr. Geschbach raised a hand, "Miss Delgado, I don't know what your
relationship with J. X. Wolffe is. I don't care to speculate about it
either, although plenty will. But, it will be better for you if you
don't acknowledge that you ever see him outside of the office, even if
it's obvious that you do. With the possible exception of theatre
people, nobody gossips like book people. Your best course of action is
to give them nothing to speculate on, no matter how wrong they are."

Nuria nodded, "Thank you, Mr. Geschbach."

Mr. Geschbach typed for a few minutes on his computer before opening
his mouth again.

"I speak from experience on this matter."

Nuria looked up. Mr. Geschbach looked to be in his early sixties or
older. She wondered what gossip there could be about him. The
confusion must have shown in her eyes because he chuckled, a throaty
noise not that different from his rumble earlier.

"It was a long time ago, Miss Delgado--before your time."

Nuria nodded, satisfied with the explanation.

As if continuing the same thought, Mr. Geschbach asked, "Are you a
good worker, Miss Delgado?"

"Yes, sir," said Nuria quietly.

"Then, welcome to Aqueduct Books. I hope it will be a pleasure working
with you."

                            -=-

Nuria had barely finished unpacking her case when Marcie poked her
head in, "Nuria, hi. I'm supposed to be meeting with you to show you
the ropes at ten, but I'm trying to straighten up a problem with our
distributor in Germany and he really wants to go home to the wife and
kids. Can we make it ten thirty?"

Nuria nodded, "Sure, Marcie. Thanks."

Nuria spent the next hour working through Sean's manuscript. It was
brilliant, but erratic. In places, it seemed to lose focus and
structure. She hoped Sean would be willing to tighten those parts up.
With red pen, she made notes in the margins. At first, she was afraid
to comment much, but by the time Marcie strode back into the room, she
was writing extensively. Marcie came and stood respectfully behind
Nuria, waiting for her to finish and turn her attention. Nuria made a
final note, put the manuscript back in its box, and turned to Marcie.

"Is that J. X. Wolffe's new book?" Marcie asked. For once, she wasn't
entirely businesslike. Instead, the question was asked with a sense of
wonder, as if she were looking at something sacred.

"No," said Nuria. "This is a novel by a friend of his, another one of
my former students."

"Were you really his teacher?"

Nuria nodded, "A few years back, when he was still in grade school."

Marcie nodded back, seemingly satisfied. A moment later, her face was
all business again, "I'm here to show you around, get you situated,
make sure you have a network logon, and help you go through the new
employee paperwork. The whole process will take a couple of hours. At
one, you have a meeting with Kate Bakersfield, the publisher, to work
out a preliminary strategy on the new J. X. Wolffe book."

Nuria gave a wan smile. The rest of the morning was taken up by Marcie
showing her how to use her phone and computer, including the company's
intranet, then giving her a general tour of the Aqueduct offices. They
were back down by graphics when Nuria said, "I'm never going to
remember all of this."

Marcie laughed, "I'd be very surprised if you could. The one thing you
should remember is my phone number. Any time you forget something,
you'll wind up calling either me or the help desk ultimately."

"What about after you finish your internship?" asked Nuria.

Marcie shrugged, "There will be someone else who can answer your
questions, I'm sure. But, don't worry. I'm here until June, even if
they don't offer me a full-time job when I finish."

"It sounds like they can't afford not to," said Nuria.

"I hope so," said Marcie, grinning mischievously. "That's the plan."

As they wrapped up the tour, Marcie said, "Well, that's it. It's now
eleven fifty-five. Your meeting is at one. Would you like to get
lunch?"

"Uh, sure," said Nuria. "Let me get my purse."

Marcie took her past two blocks packed with restaurants to a small,
non-descript place that had a huge salad bar with a pan-Asian theme.
As she picked out her own food, she pointed out various dishes to
Nuria, suggesting good and bad aspects of each.

When they sat down, Marcie said, "The atmosphere isn't much, but the
food can't be beat, especially for the price."

Nuria smiled, "You certainly seem to know your way around."

Marcie shrugged, "It's the way to distinguish yourself as an intern.
Most fall into two categories: sycophants and know-it-alls. The first
think they'll get a job by sucking up. Sometimes, they're right. The
second think they'll make their mark by pretending to already know
everything there is to know about being an editor. They never get
hired. They just get on people's nerves and eventually stuck in some
out-of-the-way department where they can't annoy too much of upper
management."

"It sounds like you've got it all figured out," said Nuria.

Marcie laughed, "Again, I hope so. I've put a lot of effort into
getting into this business. I'd like to stay."

Nuria nodded and took the opportunity to eat for a few minutes.

"So," said Marcie. "You are the number one topic of discussion around
the water cooler these days."

"The book, you mean?"

Marcie shook her head, "No. The book could push the firm to the next
level, but you're the one people are pumping me for information
about."

Nuria frowned, "And you want me to tell you all about myself so you
can share it?"

Marcie shook her head, "No. I wanted to warn you. If you have any
information you want to get out into the gossipsphere, I would be
happy to spread it. But, I also won't tell them anything about you
unless you say I should. I'm on your side."

"Why would you be on my side?"

"Because that book you're sheparding could bring Aqueduct to the next
level. And, because I convinced Kate that we should take Mr. Wolffe's
offer before someone else scooped you up."

Nuria laughed, "I imagine that credit for that would be a nice feather
in your cap."

"I doubt I'll get much credit if it works," said Marcie. "But, I'll
certainly get blamed if it's a disaster."

"So, why stick your neck out?"

Marcie smiled, "Because I want this to be a successful firm. I do
expect to work here after I graduate in June. Besides, while I love
every author in Aqueduct's catalog, most editors work their whole
lives and never get to work with someone of Wolffe's calibre. And, I
got the sense that he's constricted by his genre and would be an even
better writer if he weren't stuck in the YA market. The whole
situation is every would-be editor's dream."

Nuria smiled, "Can you really keep a secret?"

"I can," said Marcie. "But, I suspect every blabbermouth in the world
would say the same."

"I'll take my chances," said Nuria. "I think you can. I didn't want to
say this out loud and create huge expectations, but I think you're
right. Even if I weren't his editor, I think I would have stayed up
all night reading his new book. And, I'm not even a fan of the genre.
 From what I've read of the Barren's Princess series, this is head and
shoulders above anything he's published."

Marcie smiled, letting her shoulders slump as if she'd been tensed,
waiting for that. She said to Nuria, "If there's anything I can do to
help, I will. I want this to go right."