Princess, Employed
Best & Brightest, Episode 5

by Vulgar Argot

(MF-rom, anal, bond(light), FF-nosex)

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 caliber. 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."