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Tales of the Meridian Society! (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

"Are your ears pierced?" Anne Marie asked.

"Naw," Sam answered absently, still nearly hypnotized by the pendant. "Ah've been lucky thet way. Course, it comes from never holdin' mah gun too near mah ears..."

Then she laughed, just a touch shame-facedly. "An' that ain't even what y'all meant, is it? Y'all mean like earrings an such, right?" She shook her head. "Still no, though. Never had it done. Ah don't rightly reckon it even occurred to pa when Ah was a little shaver, an' Ah... Ah dunno. Ah never got round ta it, Ah suppose."

"It simply wouldn't be complete without earrings, if they are," Johnathan observed.

"Y'all are probably right. Still, Ah doubt it's somethin' Ah can 'ave done an' be ready fer tonight... oh!" She stared at the jewelery Johnathan had set out, barely able to take it all in. "They's all so... beautiful..." she whispered. Carefully, she picked up each of the rings in turn, examining them and watching the light glint and glitter in the stones.

"Ah... don't get me wrong: they's all real nice. But, ah... these two?" She set aside both of the cocktail rings. "They feel a mite... much. Ah'm not used ta wearin' th' like, an' I reckon Ah'd feel a mite better with somethin' smaller. An Ah sure do like th' look o' this one. Jes' somethin' about the way it looks like a braid."

She picked up the floral ring, staring at it long. "But Ah love this'n. Seems like a gal's gotta get flowers, once inna while." Then she chose simplicity for the bracelet, before holding the triangular earrings up to her lobes and sighing. "Sure would be nice," she murmured, putting them back. "But Ah'll have ta pass."
 
Anne Marie shrugged when Sam said she didn't have her ears pierced. "Perhaps it is just as well," she said off-handedly. "You strike me as the minimalistic type; you are not one to load yourself down with gaudy stones. That can be very attractive."

She waited patiently as Sam picked out her jewelry. Johnathan smiled approvingly. "You have very good taste, Miss," he complimented her before grabbing the boxes for the jewelry and boxing them up then putting them in a bag.

"Thank you, Johnathan," Anne Marie said with a smile. "I knew I could count on you."

The salon was next, where Sam's hair was put into a simple yet beautiful updo. Anne Marie allowed them to take her hair down since she "needed a trim anyway" and was in the chair next to Sam. She looked over with her eyes as her hair was combed out.

"So Erik. You like him? Or is this for pity's sake?" she asked casually. "There is nothing wrong with pity, mind you. For gentle souls like him I find it somewhat kinder than hard rejection."
 
Still dazzled by the pace of the afternoon, and by the sudden - if enjoyable - revelations about herself, Sam allowed herself to be led into what Anne Marie called a salon. Which was, thankfully, vastly different from what she'd expected. Because, despite Anne Marie's explanation, she'd still half-expected a rough and tumble bar.

Instead, she was seated in a comfortable chair, and some young woman undid the careful braid she'd wrapped her hair in. Then, she set to work. Sam watched apprehensively in the mirror at first - the preacher had always said that long hair was a woman's glory, and her pa had once told her that she had pretty hair like her ma's - but the salon lady knew what she was doing. Soon enough, Sam was relaxing as her hair was trimmed and washed and dried, and then put up.

"Is... that me?" she finally asked, feeling foolish, as the salon lady showed her the final change. "Ah mean... aw, hell." A blush. "Ah'm sorry, Ah didn't mean ta say that. But... Ah ain't never... looked like... well, like that before."

"So Erik. You like him? Or is this for pity's sake?" Anne Marie asked.

Sam turned and looked at her? "Wha?"

"There is nothing wrong with pity, mind you. For gentle souls like him I find it somewhat kinder than hard rejection."

"Ah..." She fiddled with the cuff of her shirt, not wanting to meet Anne Marie's eyes. "Ah... don't rightly know. Does that sound stupid?" She glanced sideways, then quickly looked away. "Ain't like Ah got me a whole mess o' experience, that-a-ways. Too busy as a kid, an' had to be too tough as a Ranger."

She bit her lip. "Ah... like him. Ah think. Well, Ah mean, he's a good friend. Talks a mile a minute when you get 'im goin', but ne'er once tried ta make me feel stupid fer not unnerstandin' 'im." She blushed a little. "An' he was th' first guy who ever asked me to a dance, an' that counts fer somethin'."

A small sigh. "But, if'n y'all are askin' if Ah like him like him...? Ah don't rightly reckon." She gave Anne Marie a shy smile. "But... way Ah sees it, ain't no harm in findin' out. Right?"
 
Anne Marie laughed gently. It was enjoyable to see her learning to embrace her femininity. "You look beautiful, chere," she assured Sam gently. When she said she didn't really know if she liked Erik, Anne Marie was not surprised. Were she entirely honest, she really took her more for being fond of the fairer sex.

"It does not sound stupid," Anne Marie replied, truthfully, once Sam was done. "It is actually one of the more natural things, when taking an interest in someone new. And no, there is no harm at all in finding out. As for experience...if you need any help you can come to me, you know."

Madame LaMonte waited a few moments for that to sink in. She had never "outed" herself to any of the society before, though she had a feeling the Captains and Doctor Swift knew. "I specialize in that sort of a thing," she continued. "If there is any sort of anxiety or nervousness, if you need to talk or experiment...I am here."
 
"Ah... kin come to you?" Sam hesitated, wondering what that meant. Then Anne Marie explained a little, and she felt even further out of her depth. But... "Talk... or experiment..?"

Talking made sense, yes. "Well... Ah did sorta have me some vague plans fer Erik. Have ever since we left Spain. Ah'm jes' not sure how ta... uhm... git from th' dance hall to the bedroom." She blushed, but continued. "Or, fer that matter, what exactly ta do whin Ah do. Ah mean, Ah reckon Ah knows th' basic idea, but..." She gestured helplessly. "Ah reckon' it' s a mite like shootin' a gun, after readin about it."

Experiment? Did she mean... but, how would that even work? Well, one way to find out. "What... whaddya mean by 'if Ah need ta experiment'?"
 
Anne Marie nodded when Sam looked to confirm that she had heard correctly. She paid the salon for their services then stepped outside with Sam, beginning to steer her toward the Ritz Hotel where she was staying. As they walked she smiled at Sam's admission that she had some "vague plans for Erik," but didn't exactly know how to get there or what to do.

"Ah reckon it's a mite like shootin' a gun, after readin' about it."

"Well," Anne Marie said after a few moments, "at the end of the night Erik will take you back to wherever you are staying and walk you to the door. He is a gentleman, after all." She spoke slowly, mulling over how to explain this. "If you think you are ready for that step, invite him in for drinks. Whether you actually have drinks is entirely up to you, but there should probably be kissing at some point oui?" She smiled not unkindly. "From there things usually work themselves out, and you'll be in good company. I don't imagine Herr Heinz-Schmidt has had much experience either. He does not seem the type like Captain Shane, to give himself freely to anyone who asks." She laughed lightly, though she had her own ideas about Captain Shane.

"What...whaddya mean by 'if Ah need ta experiment'?" Sam sounded a little nervous.

"I mean that curiosity is only natural," Madame LaMonte explained as though explaining how the weather was in Paris rather than discussing a topic that could get them killed in some parts of the world, "particularly if you have little-to-no prior experience, or haven't ever really examined that part of yourself. Curiosity about men and women alike comes to most people, really, at different stages of their life. It may give you some ease about Erik to have an idea of what's to come. Of course the mechanics wouldn't be the same, but the general course of things as well as the atmosphere, et cetera. And you are not emotionally invested in me, nor I you, so things would never be awkward, would they?"

Anne Marie glanced sidelong at Sam, trying to see how well she was taking all of this. "We all have our day jobs outside of the Society, Mademoiselle Cavendish, and this is mine. I help people of all sexualities with their anxieties, their fears, their uncertainties regarding so taboo a subject."
 
"Things usually jes' work themselves out, huh?" Sam thought about that for a moment, her expression both devilish and shy. "Well, jes' so long long as there ain't nuthin' wrong wit' thinkin' an' plannin' in advance. A... lot."

Which reminded her..."What... whaddya mean by 'if Ah need ta experiment'?"

Anne Marie explained, more or less, and Sam understood. More or less. Her line of work sounded a lot like some kind of high-class whore. Sort of. But, kind of like a teacher, too. Which made a lot of sense, really. "If'n you're bleedin'," she muttered, thoughtfully, "look fer a man wit' scars..."

She took a deep breath. "Ah.. dunno. Would it get a mite awkward twixt us?" Butterflies churned her stomach, and she forced a grin. "Ah ain't th' expert, after all. But..." she looked away, feeling embarrased and knowing she'd chicken out if she didn't. "Ah reckon Ah could use a little practice... but, Ah don' wanna impose. Y'all been far nicer'n Ah had any right to expect, particularly seein' how we got off on th' wrong foot an' all, but Ah'd really like things to go well an'.."

A pause.

"Hell. Ah'm so nervous, Ah'm babblin'."


Meanwhile, at the Royal Explorer's Club...

"Gentlemen," Professor Swift murmured, "thank you for accepting my invitation to dinner."

The club's dining room was small. It contained a score of tables, half of which were designed for one or two patrons. The walls were a blonde oak panel, hung with trophies from dozens of expeditions. Ashanti war spears and shields, next to Chinese broadswords and the mounted heads of bears and tigers and - in pride of place - a Stegosaurus head from the Roxton-Marlow 1865 expedition.

"It was our pleasure," Captain Drake answered. "If only for the sight of Killian here putting on a tie." He sipped his wine, and examined the menu. "And with Madame LaMonte and Miss Cavendish missing, we could hardly begin making plans. What do you think may have befallen them?"
 
"If yer bleedin', look fer a man wit' scars," Sam muttered. Anne Marie's lips tightened.

"Samantha, if you're implying what I think you are then we may as well--"

But Sam babbled on, wondering if it would get awkward. Then that she could probably use some practice. Then that Anne Marie had been nicer than she had any right to expect, which was entirely correct. Particularly considering what the woman had been implying about her profession. Madame LaMonte let the silence continue unimpeded after Sam declared herself nervous, intentionally drawing out the Ranger's agony after what she had said.

"When we get to my room, we will talk while you have a bath," she said just before the pause began to spin out of control. "After we talk, if you are comfortable we will begin. But let us get one thing very, very clear about my profession, Samantha. I am not a whore of any sort. Men do not pay me to play into their fantasies, and if I uncover that this is what they are doing I dismiss them immediately; I will not have you treat me the same way. The name for my profession is a sexual therapist, and it is exactly as it implies. I help people help themselves, Mademoiselle, and I help them get over anxieties and, often, childhood or recent traumas. I am no one's toy. Is that perfectly clear?" Her casual tone never broke, but her thin nostrils flared slightly; the only trace of a change in emotion. Madame smiled charmingly at the doorman as he held the door open for them and they began their ascent in an elevator.

~

Kieran glared at Captain Drake as he mentioned his wearing a tie. He was only wearing a tie because those were the rules; he wouldn't have been allowed in without one. He had tried before. The pirate was quite grateful when the subject turned to where the women had gone.

"Well, Colin, you yourself said they were going shopping," he pointed out from behind his menu, silently deciding on the duck. It wasn't often a man of his profession could find a well-brazed duck, and this came in an orange sauce. "Reason dictates they would be in the shops, wouldn't they?"

"Yes, well the city has not imploded on itself yet," Erik pointed out, declining a cigar from a passing server, "so at least they are not getting along, hm?" He smiled mildly at the joke. He had never been a huntsman or what the others would call a "man's man"; this was not the type of environment he was comfortable in and he tried to keep it from showing. To what degree of success, he had no idea.
 
For all her friendly tone, there was a whip in her voice. Sam squared her shoulders and hunkered down, ready to come back swinging. This stuck up French bitch was....

The elevator door slid shut. And Sam realized something. Anne Marie was right. She was absolutely right. Here she was, spendin' her own money and offering to help for no other reason than bein' nice, and Sam had all but slapped her and called her a cheap flatbacker. And she wasn't, that much seemed clear. Even if the actual description of her job sounded like "sex doctor. Or... "sex coach"?

She forced herself to relax, unclenching her fists and taking a deep breath. "Miss LaMonte?" she finally said. "Ah reckon Ah owe y'all an' apology." God, this was hard. She'd rather be shot. "Ah ain't gonna make no excuses, neither."

She swallowed, hating the taste of her pride. "Ah ain't rightly sure what a 'therapist' is, but Ah did wrong by you when Ah said what Ah did. Ah..." She swallowed again. "Ah'm sorry."



"Shopping," the Professor echoed, sounding dubious. "And you're quite certain it was Ms. Cavendish's idea?"

Colin shrugged. "As positive as a man can be from listening through a door. Surely you don't believe I'd make up something that ridiculous?"

"I suspect," answered the Professor, "that all of us harbor secrets that the rest of our company would find incredible." He handed his menu to the waiter. "I'll have the braised pork with pear compote, Armand. And I'll leave the wine to your discretion."

His attention turned to Erik. "Good heavens, lad, whatever is the matter? Some secret you're bursting to tell, or simply indigestion?"
 
Anne Marie tried not to smile too obviously when Sam apologized. After all, she hated apologizing too and they were taking the first steps toward something that wasn't outright animosity. But damn was it delicious to hear it from her lips. She settled for a slight upturn at the corners of her lips, but no more.

"Apology accepted," she said, watching the windows of the elevator pass as they ascended. "A therapist is a doctor of sorts," she explained patiently, glancing at the elevator operator briefly. "It is someone you talk to when you need help working through an experience or some sort of anxiety. They are a...professional advice-giver, so to speak." The elevator dinged and Anne Marie helped carry Sam's packages down the hall to her room.

The suite was large, with the door opening directly into a lavish parlor. A door to one side opened to a bedroom with a large four-poster bed which looked soft and warm. To the other the door opened to a bathroom that appeared to be made entirely of marble. Anne Marie locked the door and set the packages on a chair before stepping up to Sam.

"First," she said, maintaining eye contact as she took off her shoes, "we will begin with normalizing the human body." She was a few inches shorter now though she still had several inches on Sam. "If you ever want me to stop, you have only to say the word. You are in a safe place with me, I promise."

Anne Marie slowly slid off Sam's coat, letting it fall to the ground, before beginning to unbutton her shirt. She watched the Ranger's face closely for any signs of intense discomfort as she pushed the linen from her shoulders. She rolled her lips against her teeth as Sam's breast were exposed to the cool air.

~

Erik jumped at the sudden attention. His heart pounded against his chest, uncertain whether anyone knew. Herr Schmidt was an intensely private person and would rather not have his business known by the entire society. Doubtless Anne Marie knew by now; he wanted to keep it at that.

"Hmm? Oh, no. I just...this is not my usual habitat. That is all."

"Nah..." Kieran quite obviously didn't believe him. "I've seen that look before. Ol' Rick's gotta girl!"

"My name is Erik, Captain Shane." He adjusted his glasses, perturbed. Kieran was in the terrible habit of calling him Rick, despite his many, many protestations over the years.
 
Sam tried to smile when Anne Marie accepted her apology, but her heart wasn't in it. Not just because she hated being wrong, but because... well... because she felt lower than a snake's belly for having to apologize. So she just stood, feeling ashamed and almst wishing Anne Marie would be unreasonable, just so she didn't have to live with it.

There was probably a lesson there.

"A therapist is a doctor of sorts," Anne Marie added, glancing at the elevator operator briefly. The elevator operator, a consummate professional, gave no indications that he was paying attention.

"Really?" Sam asked, curious in spite of her misery.

"It is someone you talk to when you need help working through an experience or some sort of anxiety. They are a...professional advice-giver, so to speak."

Thoughts racing, Sam tried to connect that to her own life experiences. Which, sad to say, hadn't included much in the way of 'professional advice-givers'. Finally, she gave up. 'Professional advice-giver' made sense, in a strange sorta way, and she wasn't about to risk putting her foot in it again.

The elevator door opened, and Sam and Anne Marie gathered up the packages. Not that there were a lot of them, but the dress itself was in a special long bag to keep it from getting wrinkled, and that made carrying other things a mite awkward. She followed Anne Marie down the hall and into a suite that made Sam's eyes go wide. "Ah... that is..." She carefully hung the dress from a clothes tree. "A think y'all could put mah whole room in heah."

Which, to Sam's mind, was saying something. She wasn't rich, but the stipend provided by the Society left her with more money than she really needed, most of the time. She'd thought the cozy little room she'd rented near the University had been the height of luxury. But this...?

She turned to say something, and Anne Marie was right there, close enough to feel her warmth. "First," she said, maintaining eye contact as she took off her shoes, "we will begin with normalizing the human body."

"Normalizin' th' human body?" she repeated, stunned and suddenly nervous.

"If you ever want me to stop," Anne Marie continued, sliding her coat off, "you have only to say the word. You are in a safe place with me, I promise."

"Ah... Ah know that," Sam said, head swimming as the other woman unbuttoned her shirt. "Ah... jes'... Ah don' rightly reckon what Ah want..."

As the linen began to slip over her shoulders, she was struck by a sudden impuslse to clutch the fabric to her, to shrink away. Anne Marie was so beautiful, and she...? Sam gritted her teeth, letting the fabric fall away.

She wore no brassier or corset, which meant her torso and shoulders and small breasts were on display. Old scars broke the smooth lines of her skin. That was no surprise, not after seeing her bare arms and shoulders as she'd tried on dresses. But she bore a wicked pockmark of a scar above her left breast, souvenier of her first (and nearly last) gunfight. A long jagged scar along the ribs of her right side, a gift from a .38 that had cracked three bones but deflected to plow a furrow through her flesh. An old stab wound, just above her navel, where she'd been obliged to disarm an Apache warrior after he'd put eight inches of steel in her gut. And a broad swath of new, pink skin where her burns had been treated by Martian technology.

Sam's lip trembled, just a little, as she made herself meet Anne Marie's gaze again. Unshed tears glittered in her eyes, as she found herself comparing her own appearance to Anne's. "Look at me," she said, voice quavering. "Y'all tried, really. An'... an' Ah appreciate it." Her voice shook, and she had to bite down on her words for a minute. "But Ah'm... all scarred up an' ugly. How's Erik - how's anyone gonna want me?"


His attention turned to Erik. "Good heavens, lad, whatever is the matter? Some secret you're bursting to tell, or simply indigestion?"

Erik jumped. "Hmm? Oh, no. I just...this is not my usual habitat. That is all."

"You're a gentleman, Erik. The world should be your usual habitat." The Professor accepted a cigar, cut it, and lit it.

"Nah..." Kieran smirked. "I've seen that look before. Ol' Rick's gotta girl!"

"My name is Erik, Captain Shane." He adjusted his glasses, perturbed.

"Ah!" Colin said. "Well, then. That explains much!"

"It does, indeed," the Professor agreed, giving Erik an enigmatic smile. He then scribbled a note, and handed it to a passing server.

"May we ask who the fortunate young lady is?" Colin continued. "Or, is it the sort of affair that requires a certain discretion?"

"I believe," the Professor said, "that this is the business of Erik and his paramour alone. It is up to him whether or not he wishes to speak on the subject." He smiled benevolently. "So come, Erik... tell us more of this Aerial Screw. I believe that all assembled would benefit from what you've learned."

Meanwhile, drums began beating as the club orchestra began the song the Professor had requested.
 
Anne Marie's eyes flicked over the Ranger's body, looking her torso up and down and smiling gently. "Your skin tells a very interesting story, mon chere," she said quietly, sliding her hands to Sam's waist and resting them there lightly.

"Look at me," Sam said, voice quavering. "Y'all tried, really. An'... an' Ah appreciate it. But Ah'm... all scarred up an' ugly. How's Erik - how's anyone gonna want me?"

Madame LaMonte's heart genuinely broke for the girl. Her eyes softened and she brought her hands to Sam's cheeks, shaking her head. "No, mon chere," she said softly, "you are beautiful. Erik has never seen you naked, oui? Which means that he wants you for being you, scars and all. If this is what puts him off, he is not worth your time anyway." Still cupping Sam's face, she kissed her forehead gently, brushing her thumb across her cheekbone lightly. "Your experiences make you who you are, Samantha. And this," she lightly touched the pockmark, "these..." her hand slid across the two long, jagged scars, "are your experiences. Never wish to trade them. They are just as much a part of you as your hair or your eyes. There is nothing to be ashamed of in having your own body."

For all her attention to fashion and beauty, the Madame didn't expect the same of every woman. Indeed, how boring would it be if every woman were the same? Anne Marie's hands slid back to Sam's waist, hugging her gently before sliding to the front and o unfastening her belt and trousers, sliding them over her hips a little but ultimately leaving that decision up to Sam. She stepped back half a step and began to unbutton and unlace her own dress.

"Do you wish to take my clothes off, Samantha?" she asked gently, her clothes loosened but the choice again entirely up to the Ranger.

~

"Ah!" Captain Drake exclaimed once Kieran had decided to throw out wild accusations. "Well, then. That explains much!"

"But I--"

"It does, indeed," Professor Swift agreed, giving Erik an enigmatic smile. He then scribbled a note, and handed it to a passing server.

"Now hold on, I--"

"May we ask who the fortunate young lady is?" Colin continued. "Or, is it the sort of affair that requires a certain discretion?"

"But I never said--"

"Isn't it obvious?" Kieran interrupted. "He--"

"I believe that this is the business of Erik and his paramour alone. It us up to him whether or not he wishes to speak on the subject."

"Thank you, Professor," Erik was finally able to finish a sentence. "Besides, I never said this. It was Captain Shane who jumped to such conclusions."

"Was only stating the obvious, mate," Kieran shrugged, leaning back in his chair and puffing on his cigar.

"So come, Erik...tell us more of this Aerial Screw. I believe that all assembled would benefit from what you've learned." Professor Swift really was a lifesaver sometimes.

"Ja. Well, it is designed off of Leonardo Da Vinci's original sketches and--" Erik stopped short. The orchestra had begun playing The Yellow Rose of Texas, almost certainly upon Professor Swift's request. He felt his cheeks burn as he involuntarily blushed.

"Sommat wrong, Rick?" Kieran asked, smirking before taking a sip of his drink.

"What? No, not at all."

The pirate glanced over to the Professor. "That's cruelty that is, mate. I like it."

"As I was saying," Erik said, a little too loudly, "the Aerial Screw is based off of Da Vinci's original design..."
 
Madame LaMonte's heart genuinely broke for the girl. Her eyes softened and she brought her hands to Sam's cheeks, shaking her head. "No, mon chere," she said softly, "you are beautiful."

"Ah... Ah know y'all mean well, Anne Marie, but... Ah ain't. You're beautiful. Ah'm... Ah'm jes'..." She made a convulsive gesture, taking in her body. "Ah'm jes'... this."

"Erik has never seen you naked, oui?"

Sam blushed. "Naw. Well, some. A little, Ah guess. Kinda lost half my shirt, when th' Devil King shot me." She smiled, just a little. "Erik gave me his coat."

Madame LaMonte was relentless. "Which means that he wants you for being you, scars and all. If this is what puts him off, he is not worth your time anyway."

"That's easy enough to say," Sam mumbled, "when yer pretty."

Still cupping Sam's face, she kissed her forehead gently, brushing her thumb across her cheekbone lightly. Sam found herself shivering, just a little. "Your experiences make you who you are, Samantha. And this," she lightly touched the pockmark, "these..." her hand slid across the two long, jagged scars, "are your experiences. Never wish to trade them. They are just as much a part of you as your hair or your eyes. There is nothing to be ashamed of in having your own body."

She wanted to believe that. Oh, God, how she wanted to believe that. Because she'd fooled herself, playin' dress-up an' picking jewlery an' gettin' her hair done, letting herself believe - for a little bit - that she was beautiful. She'd never admitted it before, but she'd always wanted to be, or at least wanted someone else to believe it. But...

Anne Marie's hands slid down her waist, hugging her for amoment before undoing her belt and letting her trousers slip down. Sam shivered again, blushing again. She stepped back half a step and began to unbutton and unlace her own dress. "Do you wish to take my clothes off, Samantha?"

"Ah..." she swallowed, then licked her lips. "Ah... yes. Ah do." She stepped forward, grabbing at her trousers for a moment as they slid further down, before forcing herself to let go. They slipped to the floor and she stepped out of them - having to leave her boots behind as she did. Cautiously, as if expecting to be told 'no' at any instant, she touched the shoulders of Anne's dress, then tried to mimic the way she'd slid her shirt off.

It... wasn't as smooth or as elegant as Anne Marie had made it look. But the dress slid down her arms and shoulders. "Y'all's skin is so soft," she murmured. "Like..." She reached up a little, running her fingers over her shoulders. "Like... flower petals."


Erik flushed as the song began, making Kieran smirk and Colin glance at the orchestra in bafflement.

"Sommat wrong, Rick?" Kieran asked, smirking before taking a sip of his drink.

"What? No, not at all."

The pirate glanced over to the Professor. "That's cruelty that is, mate. I like it."

"Merely testing a hypothesis, Kieran. Nothing more." The Professor lit his cigar, puffing it into life.

"A hypothesis..?" Colin echoed, cocking his head curiously. "I don't..." He listened to the song a moment. "Oh. Ooooh. I see."

"As I was saying," Erik said, a little too loudly, "the Aerial Screw is based off of Da Vinci's original design..."

"A direct copy from his Notebooks?" the Professor asked, leaning forward. "Or an adaptation? No, clearly it must be an adaptation of some sort. But the principles are the same?" He laughed, unexpectedly. "Ah, if only Signore Leonardo were still with us! But I interrupt. Pray, Doctor Heinz-Schmidt, continue!"
 
"You are making wonderful progress, chere," Anne Marie said quietly with a smile as Sam let her trousers fall. She had seen the Ranger start to keep them up, but then let it go. There was approval in her look as she stepped out of her boots and trousers, naked in front of the Frenchwoman. She allowed Sam to pull her dress off of her shoulders, to her waist.

"Y'all's skin is so soft," she murmured, running her hands over Anne Marie's skin. "Like...like flower petals."

Anne Marie smiled. "There is a strange fruit, it is called a coconut. The oil from it keeps the skin very soft," she replied gently, not shying from the Ranger's touch. Sam's hands were rough and calloused like a man's, but Anne Marie said nothing. She pushed her dress the rest of the way down, letting it pool around her feet. She kept her stockings on as she put her hands gently on Sam's waist. "Come with me."

She led her to the bathroom where a bath had already been drawn. The hotel staff knew that Madame LaMonte liked to have a bath as soon as she came back. In the bathroom was a full length mirror, where Anne Marie guided her and stood behind her. She wrapped her arms around Sam's waist, her soft, supple, heavy breasts pressing against the Ranger's scarred back as she kissed her neck softly.

"Tell me what you see, Samantha."

~

Erik felt helpless as conversation went on around him. Then Captain Drake caught on. This was awful. The intellectual wanted to run and hide from the situation but he couldn't; he had to sit here and wish for the swift wings of death until finally the Professor turned the conversation back to the Aerial Screw.

"Yes it is an adaptation," he said after clearing his throat. Kieran was staring at him. "It's er...it's mechanical, made of metal--" No, Kieran was smirking at him. "--Driven by uh...by...Oh fine it's Sam alright?! Happy?"

"Knew it!" Captain Shane smiled triumphantly, pounding his fist on the table. "I knew it!"

"Can we stop gossping like a bunch of bored housewives now?" Erik asked, desperately wishing to just avoid the intrusion.
 
"Coconut oil kin be used on skin?" San asked, startled. She'd run into it before, for cooking and machinery, but... slathering it on your skin? Well, it sure seemed to work out.

Anne Marie slipped her gown off, standing almost completely naked before her. Sam tried not to stare. She'd never really even looked at herself naked, let alone someone else. The French woman seemed to be made all out of curves, all supple and elegant, without any blemishes or scars or anything else that she could see.

"Come with me," Anne Marie whispered, leading her into a bathroom that was - again - bigger than the entire suite she'd rented. She hesitated when she saw the full-length mirror, but gentle hands on her waist steered her. She wrapped her arms around Sam's waist, her soft, supple, heavy breasts pressing against the Ranger's scarred back as she kissed her neck softly.

"Tell me what you see, Samantha."

"Ah..." She stared, trying to make sense of it. She saw herself, she assumed. "Ah see..."

What did she see? She wasn't curvy, not like Anne Marie was. She was lean, rangy, all hard muscles and scars. But... "Ah... Ah always reckoned Ah was built like a man." Tenatively, she ran her hands over her hips and stomach, then cupped her breasts for a moment. It was a strong contrast to Anne Marie's softness, pressed up against her back. Strong, but delightful. "Ah ain't, though." She caressed her own hip with one hand, reaching back to touch Anne with the other. "Ah mean... Ah ain't all soft an' delicate-feelin', but... Ah sure ain't no man."

Almost involuntarily, she traced the scars on her chest and abdomen. "An'... y'kin see these. But, they ain't as bad as I feared they'd look." White against her normally pale skin - now flushed from the heat of the bath and the warmth of the woman behind her - they stood out. But, right now, they were just another part of her. Like the gentle swell of her breasts or the narrow curve of her hips.

Gently pulling away from Anne's embrace, she slowly stepped towards the mirror. The fingers of an outstretched hand touched the glass, cool against her skin. "Where were you?" she demanded, tears glistening in her eyes. "All them years, why did Ah never see you?"


"Yes it is an adaptation," he said after clearing his throat. Kieran was staring at him. "It's er...it's mechanical, made of metal--" He hesitated. "--Driven by uh...by...Oh fine it's Sam alright?! Happy?"

"Knew it!" Captain Shane smiled triumphantly, pounding his fist on the table. "I knew it!"

"Indeed?" Professor Swift said, raising his glass in a salute. "Congratulations! Is this something new, or have you merely become terrible at hiding a secret?"

"Can we stop gossiping like a bunch of bored housewives now?" Erik asked, desperately wishing to just avoid the intrusion.

"Oh, of course we can," Colin assured him.

"Of a certainty," the Professor agreed. "Idle speculation is the meat and drink of bored housewives."

Colin grinned. "Now that we have facts, Erik... now we gossip like a bunch of interested housewives. Where are you taking her?"
 
Anne Marie waited patiently, looking at their reflections in the mirror. Her hips swelled beyond Sam's, her breasts nearly visible over her shoulders. The way to describe her was...statuesque, and she intentionally placed herself behind Sam so the Ranger wasn't intimidated and began to compare herself to her.

"Ah...Ah always reckoned I was built like a man," Sam finally said. "I ain't though."

Anne Marie shook her head. "No, you are most certainly not." She smiled gently as her hands slid gently over Sam's breasts and between her legs, as if to gently remind her that she was most certainly not a man. She didn't touch Sam sexually, not yet; now wasn't the time for that. She merely slid her fingertips across the downy blonde hair, touching her gently.

As Sam stepped forward, however, she let her go. "Where were you? All them years, why did Ah never see you?" For all her toughness, Sam was very good at hiding a lot of pain. After a few long moments, Anne Marie put her hands on Sam's hips and pulled her toward the tub.

"Come," she said quietly. "We will teach her to be there all the time." She waited for Sam to get into the tub before taking the soap and a cloth. Slowly she climbed in as well, straddling Sam's thighs in the large tub before taking the Ranger's arm and beginning to wash her.

"Tell me why you do not think it is acceptable to be a woman," Anne Marie said quietly, scrubbing first Sam's fingers, then her hands, then up her arm.

~

Colin and Professor Swift agreed to leave him alone and Erik sighed in relief. "Now that we have the facts, Erik...now we gossip like a bunch of interested housewives. Where are you taking her?"

"Indeed," Kieran agreed, leaning forward. "And then how late is she staying after?" He grinned as well, the implications clear.

Erik flushed even more deeply. "There's a club on the other side of town," he muttered, hiding his face in his glass. "I told her I would teach her how to dance. I suppose she wanted help from Anne Marie...I don't imagine she owns any dresses."
 
Gently pulling away from Anne's embrace, she slowly stepped towards the mirror. The fingers of an outstretched hand touched the glass, cool against her skin. "Where were you?" she demanded, tears glistening in her eyes. "All them years, why did Ah never see you?"

She stood and stared at the mirror, as if it would actually answer. After a few long moments, Anne Marie put her hands on Sam's hips and pulled her toward the tub.

"Come," she said quietly. "We will teach her to be there all the time."

Wiping away tears that she hadn't even felt, Sam climbed into the tub. It was huge, a far cry from the tin baths she was accustomed to. Almost like the times she'd bathed in a stream, only warm and comfortable. She settled back, letting the heat soak into muscles that were unexpectedly tense.

There was another splash. Sam opened her eyes, to see Anne Marie climb in with her. She drew close, straddling her thighs, and for a wild moment all Sam could manage to think was Ah hope she took them purdy stockings off..., and then she had trouble thinking at all. The closeness of the woman, the feel of her smooth skin against her own, was doing frankly frightening - and exciting things to her.

"Tell me why you do not think it is acceptable to be a woman," Anne Marie said quietly, scrubbing first Sam's fingers, then her hands, then up her arm.

Sam made a little sound of pleasure, enjoying the scrubbing. "It's... Ah dunno..." She let her head lean back, watching Anne Marie through half-closed eyelids, relaxed and anxious all at once. Then she smiled. "Naw, that's not true. Ah always tell folks, it's on account o' bein' a Ranger. O' havin' ta compete wit' men, an' needin' ta be tougher an' meaner than any o' them. But... that ain't quite true."

She sighed heavily. "There's other ladies that'r Rangers. Ain't any o' them soft, by any stretch o' th' imagination. But they wear skirts on Sunday, an' go dancin'. Hell, one or two o' them are even married, ta other Rangers."

Her eyes closed for a long minute as she lay there, feeling her heart pound in her chest and trying not to think of the real reason. "Ah... don' rightly know," she finally said, voice not particularly convincing.


"Indeed," Kieran agreed, leaning forward. "And then how late is she staying after?" He grinned as well, the implications clear.

"Kieran," the Professor said, voice not quite cracking like a whip. "Some discretion is called for, from time to time."

Erik flushed even more deeply. "There's a club on the other side of town," he muttered, hiding his face in his glass. "I told her I would teach her how to dance."

"And," the Professor interjected, "we may take it as understood that you are about to make some crass innuendo, Kieran. There is no need to share it."

"I suppose she wanted help from Anne Marie...I don't imagine she owns any dresses."

Both the Professor and Colin considered that for a moment, trying to imagine Sam in a dress. "I... don't imagine that she does," Colin finally added.

"You must admit, though," the Professor said, drawing on his cigar, "Madame LaMonte would be the perfect choice to help her. I doubt very much that I would ever tell her this, but her taste is exquisite."
 
One arm done, Anne Marie worked down the other as Sam spoke. She had an idea of why Sam was the way she was, but she wanted Sam to say it. Admitting it to herself was the only way to start moving forward.

"Do you have any brothers? Sisters?" she asked lightly, finishing the other arm and moving back in the tub before beginning to work on her legs, being careful not to tickle her feet. "I ask because you talk about your father a lot. He is very important to you. What about your mother?" Anne Marie's dark eyes rose to meet Sam's, knowing one of several answers it would be. "Was she...around a lot?"

Anne Marie knew Sam knew the reason. She knew it had nothing to do with being a Ranger. She had been this way before she had joined the Rangers, otherwise she wouldn't have joined them. It was something growing up that had made Samantha into Sam.

~

Kieran met the Professor's gaze, but didn't back down. He recognized Professor Swift as the apparent, unspoken de-facto leader of the Meridian Society but the man didn't intimidate him. He said nothing, a smirk returning to his face as he leaned back in his chair. He opened his mouth to make a crass innuendo about "dancing," but the Professor took the wind out of his sails. He slumped a little, looking pouty as they continued.

"Yes," Erik agreed. "I don't know much about women's fashion, but I imagine her taste is rather good."

"It is mate, don't worry," Kieran assured the tweedy man. "I'm positive you won't be taking out Sam; you'll be taking out some stranger. A proper lady, if Anne Marie has anything to say about it."
 
"Ah'm th' youngest o' nine, or twelve, if'n y'all count th' three thet died as babies. An' th' only girl that lived." It sounded horrible, but any tears she might have shed for her unknown sister had dried up years ago. It was hard to mourn someone you had never met.

"Don't hardly got any memories o' my ma," she continued. "Ah was... three, when she died. Her an' my baby brother. Ah jes' remember little things, really. A kiss on mah forehead. Little snippets o' songs. Don't hardly remember what she looked like, 'cept Ak know she had hair like mine."

Having someone wash you, take care of you, listen to you... it felt good. But even at that, she balked at what she was thinking. She'd never told anyone, not about that.

"Ah got my first gun when Ah was ten," she remembered aloud. "Little thing, a.32, beat all ta Hell. Mah pa showed me how to use it. Take care o' it, clean it, shoot it. Always said that, since he an' the boys was out in th' field all say, Ah needed to know how... how.." Her voice broke on the words, stumbling as she tried to speak them. "How ta pertect m'self, if anythin ever... happened."



"'Stranger' is, I think, the wrong word." Colin sipped his wine. "I mean, yes. Dresses and makeup and jewelry are out of character for the woman we know. But consider: hiw well do we know her? Erik, and now Anne Marie, would appear to be her trusted confidants?" He smiled. "For all we know, she might be a librarian..."

A pause.

"Well, perhaps not. But... you take my meanung?
 
Anne Marie scrubbed up to Sam's thigh as she listened. It was as she had suspected for quite a while. She scrubbed up the left leg, toes to thigh, as she described how she had been given her first gun when she was ten. Anne Marie couldn't imagine such a circumstance as a child; she had killed her first person at fifteen, and even then she knew now she had been too young. She was a little above the Ranger's knee when her voice started to crack.

"And you have been protecting yourself ever since," the Frenchwoman said quietly. She understood how that went more than Sam might be able to imagine. "You had no sisters, no mother...no wonder you never felt comfortable in your own skin." She looked up at Sam again as she finished scrubbing her thigh before soaping up the cloth again and washing her chest, then her breasts. "Do you want me to help you feel...?"

~

"...Erik, and now Anne Marie, would appear to be her trusted confidantes?"

Erik couldn't help a cough of laughter. "I would hardly call her a confidante; Believe you me there is no love lost between them. It came as a shock as much to me as it did to you that she spoke civilly to Madame LaMonte, never mind asked for her help."

"For all we know, she might be a librarian..."

It was Kieran's turn to laugh. "Professor Swift, she'll be the first to tell you: she's a Tay-has Ranger." He once again imitated Sam's accent quite poorly.

"Well, perhaps not. But...you take my meaning?"

"I do," Erik said with a nod, sipping at his brandy. "But I also understand what Kieran means. I imagine under Madame LaMonte's tutelage she will look quite a different person."
 
Sam felt oddly... disappointed, as Anne Marie summed up her story. There was just a bit more, a part she'd never told anyone. Part if her wanted to get it out, finally, after all these years. The rest, though, was glad to leave it sealed away, unexamined. And then there was Anne Marie's gentle attentions to her legs, her stomach, her breasts that just made her want.. well.. it was complicated. To fuck, she assumed, becauuse it sure held the same quality as the times she'd touched herself. But also to just lay back in the water and relax until she melted.

"Ah... yeah. Ah would like you to help me feel..." she murmured, oddly aware of hiw much she sounded like she was purring. "But..." She hesitated, trying to talk herself out of it. "But y'all asked a question, an' there's a mite more. An' Ah ain't never breathed a word o' it afore..."

She settled back, looking up at the stucco ceiling. "Somethin'... happened." She sat quietly for several minutes, staring at nothin'. "Ah always got left at home, ta do th' cookin' an such, while th' boys worked. It's why pa wanted me ta have a gun."

More silence.

"When Ah was nearly twelve, one o' the Federales came callin'. Tax collectin'. Fat sumabitch. Greasy. Ah told him mah pappy weren't home, but he'd be along round sundown. He said he'd wait."

A pause.

"That's when he grabbed me. Ah smacked him, an' he knocked me down. Called me a bitch an' a whore. Said Ah shoulda been nice ta him, as he was a-clawin' at his belt."

She shuddered. "Now, Ah weren't stupid. Didn't know much about men an' women, but... well, ain't nobody that ignorant. So, Ah shot him." She snapped her fingers rapidly, four times. "Jes' like that."

There'd been more to it. Her panic as he knelt on her stomach, tearing at her blouse. The taste of his blood whrn she bit his hand, mingling with her own when he'd split her lip with a backhand. His flabby weight pushing her into the dirt, and the way he'd giggled as he hit her again for twisting away, and his high shriek and the sound of thunder as the first bullet ripped through him and the way she'd only stopped pulling the trigger when she heard the hollow click of the revolver dry-firing. But that was more than she coukld bear to say.

"Ah knew they'd blame pa, hand him fer murder. So Ah got th' mule an' got him into th' hog pen. Then Ah washed mah dress, 'fore th' blood could dry, an' cleaned mahself up best Ah could, an' threw up. Couldn't sleep fer months, afraid that every sound was a posse comin' fer pa. Or worse."

She'd woken more than once, feeling a crushing weight on her chest, smelling hog and stale sweat an' hearing his giggling as he touched her face again. When she could catch breath, her screams had brought the whole house running.

"Ah..." she started, vaguely aware that she'd wrapped her arms around herself, shaking as she relived those terrible weeks and months again. "Ah.. cain't never... let mahself.... be weak... again."



"Undoubtably," the Professor agreed. "All of have hidden depths." His gaze flicked to Kieran for a moment. "Even if we hide them well."

"I suppose we do," agreed Colin. "Nevertheless, I find that I struggle with trying to imagine Madamoiselle Cavendish in a dress."

"Some depths are more hidden than others," the Professor agreed. "But come, we have mortified Erik enough for the moment. Perhaps we should scretinize someone else, as we gossip?"
 
Anne Marie listened quietly, letting Sam tell her story. Her stomach knotted. She had been given a gun at ten and killed a man who had tried to rape her when she was twelve. She'd always had a feeling something had happened to the Ranger but she would have never guessed that. For God's sake she was twelve! Anne Marie's hands dropped from Sam's breasts, letting the washcloth float in the water as she shifted in the tub. Being careful not to slosh water over the side, Madame LaMonte leaned against the back of the tub and pulled Sam into her lap, holding her close to her breast.

"Listen to me, Samantha," she said quietly, leaning her forehead against Sam's temple, "and listen carefully. You are not weak. You were never weak. You were a child. You were stronger than most grown women would have been." Anne Marie leaned in and gently, slowly kissed Sam's neck. After a few minutes of deliberation she sighed.

"When I was ten my parents were killed," she admitted quietly. "My father was an ambassador who was openly defending Captain Dreyfus, there was this man...from Turkey...He was a terrible shot and he killed both of my parents in front of me before someone tackled him. I was given into the custody of my uncle, who was involved in international espionage. When I was twelve he told me the assassin had been hired by another man in parliament. By the time I was fifteen I had worked my way into his staff, seduced him...and I killed him. Foxglove. It looked like a heart attack."

She looked down at Sam and kissed her gently again. "We do what we must to survive, Samantha. It does not make us weak. If anything else as women it makes us stronger."

~

"Yes, thank you Professor," Erik said with a sigh of relief. "Like Kieran, for example."

"Me?" Kieran yelped, looking surprised and put on-guard. "What about me?"

"Well you are so interested in my life," Erik said lightly, "what about yours? What have you been up to, Captain?"

"Pirating, what else?" Kieran leaned back in his chair, doing his best to look nonchalant.
 
Sam didn't cry. She'd shed her tears, a lifetime's worth, long ago. But the old fear came tearing back as she lanced the old boil in her soul and let it drain, and she felt exhausted when it was over. She didn't cry, but she didn't resist as Anne Marie gathered her into her arms or argue with her claim that she'd been strong.

Or interrupt, when she told her own story.

"Well, hell," she observed as Anne Marie wrapped up her story. "An' here Ah always figgured you for soft. Shows jes' how wrong Ah kin be.."

She kissed her again, gently. "We go what we must to survive, Samantha. It does not make us weak. If anything else as women it makes us stronger."

Sam looked at Anne Marie, and smiled. Just a little. "Ah reckon y'all are right. But.. y'know what?"

She sat up and turned, enjoying the feel of the other woman's body against her own. Her lips found Anne Marie's in a clumsy, hungry kiss, arms around her shoulders and neck. She made a low sound of pleasure, aware of a sudden delightful heaviness in her breasts and a liquid heat that seemed to pool in her belly, and she finally broke the kiss. "Ah... Ah'm tired o' jes' survivin'," she managed to say, voice husky.



"Oh, don't take it so personally," the Professor said dismissivly. "I'm simply interested in everyone. But there must be more to you than mere piracy."

"What makes you say that?" Colin asked, curious.

"Why, the scale of it. Stealing an airship isn't like the old days, when one could simply throw the captain overboard and head for Port Royal. Too much specialist knowledge is required."

Colin pursed his lips. "So, he represents a nation?"

A shrug. "Not necessarily. There are other options. Methodically taking months, if not years, to put a team of trusted specialists on a single ship. Nut, I suspect the 'good' Captain can speak to that more..."
 
Anne Marie made a small noise against Sam's lips. She smiled slightly against them, pleasantly surprised that Sam had opened up so quickly. Slowly, gently, she pulled away, eyes flickering over Sam's face as she declared that she was tired of just surviving. That was a definite step forward.

"This is good progress, oui?" Anne Marie said softly with a smile. "Life is about living, not just surviving." There was a passion in her dark chocolate eyes, like a fire that burned low but hot. She kissed Sam hard, sliding her hands over her pale breasts before moving them down to her hips. "Are you ready, Samantha?" If Sam answered in the affirmative, Anne Marie would stand and help Sam step carefully out of the tub, drying her off before leading her to the bedroom.

~

Kieran listened to the exchange with a smirk glowing faintly across his face. It was cute to listen to people theorize about him and was indeed a pastime of his. He shook his head slightly.

"It's usually a matter of hiring people until you find the right person, then systematically throwing the--what'd you call them?--specialists overboard." That seemed to be all he was willing to say about his past, at least for now. "What about you, Captain Drake? What's in it for you, working for the crown and chasing men like me across the skies? Why the aeronavy and not the regular navy, or the Army?" Not like he was particularly interested; Kieran mostly wanted to get the topic off of himself. He was more than willing to make Erik or anyone else at the table uncomfortable as the center of attention. It was a different matter altogether when it was him, however.
 
"This is good progress, oui?" Anne Marie said softly with a smile. "Life is about living, not just surviving."

"Oui," Sam agreed in her horrendously-accented French. "Apres la pluie, le beau temps." She shivered, moaning into Anne Marie's mouth as the French woman's tongue slid between her lips and her hands caressed her breasts and slid down to her hips. She wanted... what? Oh, she knew what she wanted. She wanted Anne Marie. But, she was a little unsure how that would work.

"Are you ready, Samantha?"

"Yes," she murmured, placing a light kiss on Anne Marie's lips. "Ah am." She made the faintest sound of disappointment as Anne Marie rose, before taking her hand and helping her from the tub. She wasn't as graceful as the French woman as she stepped from the tub, slipping just a little and splashing, but she didn't care. Not right now. She just laughed as she stumbled into Anne Marie, pressing and slipping against her, then enjoyed the attention as she dried her off.

"Mah turn," Sam insisted, taking a towel. She placed a single finger over Anne Marie's lips. "Shhhh... Ah know y'all are doin' this fer me," she murmured, drying her shoulder. "But Ah wanna do this." Would she have actually protested? Sam didn't know. But she took her time, stepping close and reaching around to dry Anne Marie's back and rear, trailing her fingers after the thick cloth of the towel. She took her time as she dryed each arm in turn before moving to her breasts, hardly able to believe her daring as she planted small kisses on her soft skin.

"God," she murmured, letting her fingers trail over the softness of the other woman's breasts before moving to dry her stomach. "Ah... Ah feel drunk." She looked up, giving Anne Marie a shy little smile. "Is that normal?"


"It's usually a matter of hiring people until you find the right person, then systematically throwing the--what'd you call them?--specialists overboard."

"I'd actually been referring to important members of the crew. Trimsmen and steersmen, engineers... the men you need to keep an aeroship aloft." The Professor shrugged. "Still, I take your point. Better competent men you can trust, than highly-skilled men you cannot."

But the Irish pirate wasn't finished trying to divert attention from himself. "What about you, Captain Drake? What's in it for you, working for the crown and chasing men like me across the skies? Why the aeronavy and not the regular navy, or the Army?"

Colin paused a moment as the waiter returned, setting dishes before the four men. "Why the Royal Aeronavy?" he asked, cutting into his meal. "Why, Captain Shane... I'm surprised you even need to ask. You have a ship of your own, after all." He smiled. "I could have trudged along, as one of His Majesty's Army, or been confined to the seas in the Royal Navy. Or, I could fly."
 
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