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From: Vulgar Argot <vulgarargotREMOVEALL@CAPSinsidejoke.tv>
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Subject: {ASSM} Best and Brightest, Episode 6 :: A Festival In Exile
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Date: Fri, 11 Jun 2004 08:10:07 -0400
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Best and Brightest, Episode 6
by Vulgar Argot
(tags at bottom to avoid spoilerage)

Episode 6: A Festival in Exile

Bolstered by the idea that she had an ally inside Aqueduct, even an
ally who was herself in a precarious position, Nuria strode into her
meeting with Kate Bakersfield. When she arrived, Kate said, "Shut the
door."

Nuria looked around the room, empty but for the two of them, "Am I
early?"

Kate shook her head, "No. I wanted this first meeting just to be the
two of us--so that we could start out with the air clear."

"All right," said Nuria, sitting down and folding her hands.

"You look very professional today," said Kate.

"Thank you," said Nuria.

"You arrived more or less on time today, spent the morning learning
how to use all of the devices that are part of having a job here, took
lunch with Marcie, and came back after a reasonable amount of time.
You arrived on time for this meeting and appear to have put a good
deal of thought into your appearance." Kate spoke in even, clipped
tones.

Nuria was too stunned by the laundry list to reply immediately.

"I am not usually in the habit of spying on my employees, but you are
of specific concern to me and I've been asking around."

Nuria smoothed an imaginary wrinkle out of her suit, "All right."

Kate sighed and ran a hand through her graying hair, "Here's what I
need to get out on the table: If you don't intend to take this job
seriously, I can live with that. Your salary is a small offset to what
we can expect to make on Mr. Wolffe's book. Being a working editor is
often a miserable job, one I was rarely fond of myself. So, if you
would rather 'work from home,' arrive once every few weeks when we
have to meet with Mr. Wolffe, and collect a paycheck twice a month,
let me know now and we will save ourselves a considerable amount of
time that would otherwise be spent on maintaining a charade."

Nuria sat up straighter, "I don't intend for this to be a charade, Ms.
Bakersfield."

Kate raised an eyebrow at her, "You do understand that by 'work from
home,' I mean, 'do whatever the hell you please, so long as you don't
come to the office,' don't you?"

Nuria nodded, "Yes. I just want to be a good editor."

"Shit," said Kate in those same, dignified, clipped tones, "I was
afraid you were going to say that." Reaching into her elegant Coach
leather purse, she extracted a small flask, "Can I interest you in a
sniff?"

When Nuria shook her head, Kate took a water glass, poured herself a
healthy dose of some clear liquid, and drank it down. When she was
finished, she said, "This would be far easier for me if you were some
unqualified floozy that I could trot out every so often to make the
client happy. The worst possible case here is if you turn out to be
well-meaning, but incompetent. So, if at any point, you change your
mind and decide you would rather live a life of quiet reflection,
subsidized by Aqueduct, just let me know."

When Nuria didn't answer, Kate said, "I can see that you're determined
to give this a shot. So be it. Just remember that the offer stands.
But, as long as you're actually planning to be a part of this firm,
we'll do what we can to get you up to speed. Mr. Geschbach has been
instructed to assist you with Mr. Wolffe's book as much as he can. I
know that the book is not in a submittable draft yet. If you can
convince Mr. Wolffe to let Mr. Geschbach read what you currently have,
I would consider you somewhat less in my debt."

Nuria nodded, "I'll try."

Kate smiled, taking away some of the sting of her words, "You're going
to have something of an uphill battle here, Miss Delgado. I don't know
what your relationship with Mr. Wolffe is, but I want you to know I
have no intention of holding it against you. When I started in this
business in 1959, my boss hired me because he liked the way I filled
out a sweater. I slept with him to keep my job. He was not half as
young, successful, or attractive as your Mr. Wolffe. Your official
title here is junior acquisitions editor. I can tell you from
first-hand experience that you can sleep your way to the middle in
this business, but you have to work your way to the top. If you want
my advice, and you do, you should spend every minute you are not
working on Mr. Wolffe's book trying to find a new author that you are
not--personally associated with who can make us some money. Once you
have a few successes under your belt, most people won't really care
what else has been there."

Nuria was flustered. She wasn't sure whether she should feel grateful
or insulted. She decided that she would accomplish very little by
taking affront and decided to be grateful.

"Thank you for the advice," she said quietly.

"You're fortunate in one way," said Kate. "Mr. Wolffe's book is going
to be the flagship product in our new imprint, Orbital. If you wanted
to focus on science fiction and you're any good, I imagine you could
make quite an impression in the field in only a few years."

Nuria smiled, feeling genuinely hopeful for the first time since the
meeting had started, "Thank you, Ms. Bakersfield. I'll look into
that."

Kate nodded, "If you have any free time this week, you might want to
start on the slush pile. You never know when a gem will be found
there."

                                        -=-
                                        
It was Wednesday before Nuria got to the slush pile. It actually
turned out to be a row of filing cabinets that were used to hold all
the unsolicited manuscripts that Aqueduct received. Actually, that
wasn't true. It was used to hold all the unsolicited manuscripts that
the interns couldn't find an excuse to throw out. Incorrect
formatting, non-standard paper, unusual fonts, anything that deviated
from the norm could cause a manuscript to go to the "circular file"
instead.

More interesting to Nuria than the nature of the slush pile was its
location. The row of cabinets faced into the enclosed area of the
floor known as the bullpen--where the most junior of editors worked.
If not for her contacts, it's where Nuria would work. Actually, Nuria
reminded herself, if not for her contacts, she wouldn't work here at
all.

Having walked by the far side of the cabinets, she'd heard the steady
rumble of conversation on the other side. So, when she stepped in, the
abrupt silence was all the more shocking. Everyone seemed to be hard
at work on something on their desk or computer, but Nuria could sense
that they were staring at her behind her back.

Head held high, she strolled quickly across the bullpen, trying not to
let the staring get to her. She got about half-way before it started
to get to her. She glanced around. No one was looking up. As she got
closer, she slowed her stride. That was a mistake. Gonzalo, who was
sitting almost directly in front of the file cabinet marked "Orbital,"
rose to his feet.

"You look lost, hermana. Is there something I can help you with?"

He smiled at Nuria and it was all that she could do not to flinch.
Even though his hands were firmly in his pockets, she felt like he'd
reached out for her. This time, his eyes stayed firmly on her face,
but they seemed to bore a hole in her skull. There was a challenge to
the way he stood, even though it looked casual on the face of it.

"I just came by to get some manuscripts from the slush file," she
said.

Gonzalo turned, his hand indicating the filing cabinet she'd been
headed for anyway, "It is right here."

Nuria nodded. For some reason, her feet had stopped their forward
momentum and didn't seem willing to start again. It took several
seconds before she started walking again.

Gonzalo stepped forward as if to help, getting to the cabinet a moment
before Nuria. As such, she wound up stepping into his personal space,
close enough to feel his body warmth and smell the scent of him. He
wore some expensive, emphatically male fragrance, not noticeable until
she was in close. It seemed to be making Nuria dizzy.

He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. It was unobtrusive
and should have been inoffensive. Nuria knew how crazy she would look
if she made a scene over it. With his other hand, he reached over and
pulled the drawer open.

"Do not expect too many miracles here," he said. "Many people think
they can be writers in spite of all the evidence being to the
contrary."

He held out a manuscript box to Nuria. She took it and turned to go.

"You are only taking one?" he asked.

Nuria was already flustered. The question didn't help, "I, uh..."

"Most of these manuscripts can be rejected before you have finished
the first page. While we would all be glad to see you back every few
minutes, you may want to take a few at a time."

There was a nervous undercurrent of laughter around the bullpen. Nuria
kept her eyes straight forward.

"All right," she said. "I can probably carry four or five."

Gonzalo piled the requested number of boxes on top of the one she
already held. As Nuria turned to go, he said, "Remember my offer,
hermana. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

Nuria was afraid that she would have bolted if not weighed down by the
manuscripts. As it was, she stepped a little too abruptly and felt the
pile sway sickeningly. She managed to correct her path and keep it
from falling, but it remained awkward all the way back to her desk and
did fall over when she tried to set it down. They spread out across
her empty desktop, the topmost box balancing dramatically on the edge
for a moment before crashing to the floor with a solid thud.

Mr. Geschbach looked at the box on the floor, "You can probably throw
that one out without looking at it."

Nuria looked up at him, surprised, "Why? Because it hit the floor?"

Mr. Geschbach shrugged, "As good of a reason as any. That was always a
thankless job. There are just enough stories floating around about
slush piles yielding gold that Kate insists we go over every
manuscript that comes in. The result has been twelve titles published
in nine years. Only one of them made any money."

Nuria picked up the box off the floor, "That does not sound
encouraging."

"Practically everybody who can string a sentence together has an agent
these days," said Mr. Geschbach. "As soon as the press release
announcing your hiring starts to make the rounds, you'll be hearing
from them." The way he said the last word made his contempt for the
breed clear.

"Well," said Nuria. "If I can't expect much from agents and I can't
expect much from the slush pile, where am I supposed to get my leads?"

Mr. Geschbach shrugged, "From agents and the slush pile, mostly. We've
got four acquisitions editors and, most years, publish five or six
books by new authors. This year, you're lucky. With the roll-out of
the Orbital imprint, we're bumping in up to nine or ten. Most of the
acquisitions editor's job is to try to stay awake and aware long
enough that they don't miss a real opportunity. It's a tight business.
If you discover two money-making authors in the same year, you're
considered a star. If you go more than one year without discovering
any author, people start talking about you like you're dead. Bill
Valmanian's been in the business twenty-two years, but he didn't find
an author last year or the year before and he's probably on the way
out.

Nuria sighed and opened the manuscript she'd retrieved from the floor.
By virtue of giving it the benefit of the doubt, she managed to get to
page two. Then, she put it aside.

Gonzalo had been right. The only thing that kept her from going
through the whole pile before lunch was that Aqueduct had a ticket
system for slush pile manuscripts that, in most cases, took as long to
fill out as the manuscript took to evaluate. At first, she'd been
worried about the fact that there was no step between her evaluation
and dropping a manuscript back into the mail to the author. What if
she made a mistake and rejected an author who turned out to be the
next Stephen King?

By the time she left for lunch, she wasn't entirely convinced that it
couldn't happen, but she could comfortably say that she hadn't done it
today.

"I'm starting to think it's some sort of elaborate joke, created to
haze new editors," she told Marcie at lunch. "I only taught eighth
grade English, but I swear my students had a better grasp of grammar
and spelling than some of these would-be authors."

Marcie smiled, "Gonzalo told me that editors reading from the slush
pile use the rule of three. If you find three grammar or spelling
errors and the manuscript hasn't riveted you, move on to the next."

Nuria shook her head, "If I did that, I wouldn't have gotten past page
one on a couple of manuscripts."

"That's the idea," said Marcie. "If an author can't do the work to
make sure they don't have three misspellings or grammar errors on page
one, what are the odds that they've put the work in to write a
marketable book?"

Nuria shrugged, "I guess. But, I feel bad."

Marcie laughed, "You'll get over that pretty quickly."

"So," asked Nuria as casually as she could imagine. "How well do you
know Gonzalo?"

Marcie lowered her head, rubbed the back of her neck, and didn't say
anything for a few seconds. Nuria noticed, but didn't comment.

"We went out a few times," said Marcie.

Nuria nodded, "It didn't work out?"

Marcie shrugged, "It worked out fine, I think. It was never meant to
be serious."

Nuria looked across the table at Marcie. In spite of the breeziness of
her words, the young intern looked unhappy.

Marcie saw Nuria watching her, "Why do you ask?"

"I..." Nuria chose her words carefully, "I think I got on his bad
side. Kate gave me his desk and put him back in the bullpen. And, I'm
working with Mr. Geschbach."

Marcie made a hissing noise through her teeth, "It would be just like
Gonzalo to blame you for that."

"Well," said Nuria, idly stirring her iced tea. "I understand his
point. He's..."

Marcie shook her head, "Don't blame yourself on this one. He was
cruising for a demotion."

Nuria leaned in, "Why?"

"One of the secretaries filed sexual harassment charges against him,"
said Marcie. "Kate obviously thought they were serious because she was
ready to let him go. The next thing she knows, he's got four lawyers
with him ready to make trouble. And, we're not talking Jacoby &
Meyers. Gonzalo's family owns a bunch of copper mines or something.
These were family lawyers."

Nuria had stopped stirring her iced tea, "So, what happened?"

"I didn't see it with my own eyes," said Marcie. "But, I've heard it
from a number of sources. Kate moved Maria into her own office, gave
her more responsibility, made it clear that the firm was behind her.
She moved Gonzalo in with Geschbach so that the old guy could keep an
eye on him. Only, I think Geschbach took a liking to him. Anyway, one
day, Maria goes down to the Starbucks on the corner for coffee. She
comes back twenty minutes later, no coffee, crying her eyes out. She
doesn't even go to her desk. She goes straight to HR, recants her
whole story, drops the charges, and quits. No two week notice or
anything, she just quits."

Nuria frowned, "That's awful. What did he do to her?"

"Nothing," said Marcie. "That's the official story. Anton Lansing, who
wrote "Diamond Days" for us, swears he and Gonzalo were in a meeting
the whole time. And Maria won't say a damned word about it."

"You sound pretty angry for someone who didn't see any of this
first-hand."

Marcie sighed, "I was seeing Gonzalo at the time. It was nothing
serious, just a fling. But, it was enough that I took his side at
first, even went to the wall for him to Kate. But, after what he did
to Maria...that was the end of it."

"Marcie," asked Nuria. "Do you know what he did to Maria? Did he tell
you?"

Marcie gave an abrupt shake of her head, "If I did or he did, I
wouldn't say. I'm pretty mad at his right now, but I don't tell
secrets."

Nuria was ready to argue, but decided not to. She took a deep breath,
"I appreciate that."

"But, if I were you," Marcie added. "And I were on Gonzo's bad side, I
would give him a wide berth."

                                        -=-
                                        
Nuria took Marcie's advice, staying away from Gonzalo. She had asked
Mr. Geschbach if there were a way to get manuscripts from the slush
file without going and picking them up, claiming they were too heavy
and hurt her back. Geschbach had stared at her for a moment as if he
could see right through both her and her excuse, but explained how to
input a requisition to have an intern bring her a number of
manuscripts.

That night, she went home and got some rest. It turned out that
Quentin had a regular Wednesday-night poker game that usually ran well
past midnight. He offered to cancel it, but Nuria had to admit that
she was grateful for the sleep. It had been a long week and it was
only half over. Pearl had climbed into bed next to her, promising to
behave and it had taken her nearly an hour to break that promise and
be exiled back to her own bed.

Thursday night, she and Quentin went out for dinner at a little
Brazilian restaurant in the fifties. It wasn't a celebrity hang out by
any means and, if anyone recognized him, they were too polite to say
so.

When Quentin tried to drop her off after dinner, Nuria coaxed him into
her room. As embarrassed as she was by the tiny space in which she
lived, even one night without him had left her with a dull ache. At
the time, they'd been alone in the apartment. But, when Quentin left
around three, Pearl and Carla were just getting back from wherever
they had gone. It seemed to Nuria that they looked at her with a gleam
of new respect after that which was, to her way of thinking, warped
but entirely consistent.

Friday was another uneventful day at work. For the most part, she
avoided Gonzalo. When he passed her in the hall, he gave her a wry and
enigmatic smile, but said nothing.

She and Quentin had plans for a late dinner that night. He was taking
the red eye to Chicago to do some sort of promotion on the weekend.
When he'd told Nuria about it, he offered to take her along. As much
as she didn't want to, Nuria demurred. It was going to be hard enough
keeping her relationship with Quentin a secret without flying off for
the weekend with him.

When she got home, Pearl and Carla were getting dressed to the nines.
Pearl poked her head out of her room long enough to say, "Sean called.
He's having a housewarming tonight and wants you to come."

Nuria sighed, "Oh, dear. I already have plans with Quentin."

"That's too bad," said Carla, poking her head out of her room. "It's
going to be a rocking party."

Nuria sat down and stretched out on the couch, "So, what are you two
getting ready for?"

There was an awkward silence. Then, Pearl said, "Sean invited us to
the party, too. We were planning on going to be your wingmen."

"Well, like I said, I have plans with Quentin."

Carla came out of her room, ran over to the couch, and went down on
her knees, "Can we go anyway, Miss D? Please please please!"

Nuria laughed, "I don't see why not. But, I thought you didn't like
Sean."

"I don't particularly," said Carla. "But, you should hear who's going
to be there. It's going to be a big deal."

Nuria laid her head on Carla's head, laughing, "Go, then. You have my
blessing."

Carla kissed her on the cheek, squealed, and bounced off to her room.
After she was gone, Pearl stepped out of her room and walked over to
the couch. Looking down at Nuria, she asked, "Are you sure it's okay?"

Nuria sat up and nodded, "Of course. Just because I can't make the
party doesn't mean you two should stay home."

Pearl laughed, holding her hand to her face. Nuria looked up, a
question on her face, wondering what was so funny.

"That's right," said Pearl, still chuckling. "Before we got invited to
this party, we had a quiet evening of needlework planned."

                                        -=-
                                        
Nuria was getting dressed for dinner when her Pearl stuck her head in
the bedroom door, "Phone for you."

Nuria took the handset and pressed it to her ear, "Hello."

"Nuria," said Quentin. "How are you?"

Nuria smiled, "I'm doing well, Quentin. I was just getting dressed for
dinner."

"About that..." said Quentin. 

By the tone of his voice, Nuria knew they weren't having dinner
tonight. Still, she asked, "Yes?"

"Sean is having a housewarming tonight," said Quentin. He took a deep
breath, "I have no intention of going. It would be an hour there and
an hour back so that I could spent an hour listening to him talk about
how I exiled him."

Nuria felt her heart sink, "Was the break really that bad?"

Quentin chuckled, "No. Not at all. Sean just has an overdeveloped
sense of melodrama sometimes."

"So," said Nuria. "What does that have to do with dinner?"

"I told Sean I would be writing tonight," said Quentin. "I meant it to
be a lie. But, now I am writing. And I really should continue. I
haven't touched this manuscript since the day I ran into you in the
bookstore."

Nuria nodded into the phone, "I understand. Besides that, if we were
spotted and it got back to Sean..."

"I would never hear the end of it," said Quentin. "Are you horribly
disappointed?"

"Yes," admitted Nuria. "But, I do understand."

"Did he invite you to the party?" asked Quentin.

"Yes," said Nuria. "And Pearl and Carla. They're trying on clothes
now."

"You should go," said Quentin. "I introduced Sean to a lot of
publishing people. Many of them will be there. It would be an
excellent networking opportunity for you."

Nuria closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead as if she'd gotten a
sudden headache, "I have to network? I don't remember that in my
contract."

Quentin chuckled, "If I can do it, you can do it."

Nuria very much doubted that. Somewhere, Quentin had acquired a
facility with people greater than any she would ever possess.

"You'll have Pearl and Carla with you," said Quentin. "Will they watch
your back?"

"More than that if I let them," Nuria smirked.

"Excuse me?"

"Err," She was glad Quentin couldn't see her blushing over the phone,
"I think they will. They offered to be my wingmen, whatever that
means."

Quentin laughed, "It sounds like you'll be fine, then."

Nuria sighed. She had nothing to say, but found herself not wanting to
hang up. After a long pause, Quentin said, "I should get back to
work."

"Of course," said Nuria, smiling to herself.

                                        -=-
                                        
"I have nothing to wear!"

Pearl came trotting across the living room to where Nuria was standing
in front of her now-overstuffed closet.

"You are not allowed to say that," she said emphatically. "I thought
we must have been robbed. Besides," she looked Nuria up and down.
"What's wrong with what you're wearing?"

"Quentin cancelled on me to spend time with his true love," said
Nuria, throwing an arm across her chest in a gesture of being mortally
wounded. "I'm stuck babysitting you two tonight."

"He's writing?" asked Pearl.

"I'm afraid so," said Nuria. "I can't compete with the Barrens
Princess."

Pearl held her hand to her face thoughtfully, "Considering what a fan
she is, Carla might have a costume for that. You could slip it on and
go distract him."

Carla, who had arrived in time to hear most of the conversation,
giggled, "Actually, I did a shoot in an outfit very much like that. I
never got so much e-mail."

Pearl smiled, "Miss D's going to chaperone tonight."

Nuria made an indignant noise, "Chaperone? Just for that, I'm spiking
the punch."

"Oo," squealed Carla. "My favorite kind of chaperone."

"But, what am I going to wear?" asked Nuria. "And don't say your
Barrens Princess costume."

"Hmmm..." said Carla, looking into Nuria's closet. "What look are we
going for?"

"I guess that depends on what sort of party it's going to be," said
Nuria.

Carla thought about it, "Based on what I know about the man throwing
it, I think 'Hot MILF on the prowl' is probably your best bet."

"What's a MILF?" Nuria asked.

Carla and Pearl looked at each other, then burst out laughing. When
she stopped, Carla said, "That would be 'Mom I'd Like to Fuck.'"

Nuria was momentarily shocked, but knew she was supposed to be. So,
she said, "Why, Carla. I'm flattered, but my life is really
complicated enough as it is. Besides, I've never been a mother."

She felt an odd surge of triumph when Carla stood there, shocked.
Pearl laughed loudly, "I told you she's changed."

Carla scowled, "I figured that out when I caught you two in bed
together." For a moment, Nuria thought she was serious, but Carla
winked at her and grinned.

"How about this?" asked Pearl, reaching for an outfit.

A half-hour later, they'd settled on an outfit. It wasn't what Nuria
might have chosen on her own, but Pearl and especially Carla wore her
down. She looked down at her bed where the outfit lay--a silky purple
top, leather skirt, and summer-weight black leather jacket.

Frowning, she said, "I'm not sure it's age appropriate."

"Sure it is," insisted Carla. "If we let you decide what was age
appropriate, you'd be in a housedress, a girdle, and a walker. You're
not that old, Miss D."

Pearl laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, "Why did you accept it if
you weren't going to wear it?"

Nuria gave a snort, "Irrational exuberance."

"Try it on," coaxed Pearl. "I bet it will look great."

Nuria did as she was told. Looking in the mirror, she decided the
effect wasn't as bad as she thought.

"What do you think?" asked Pearl.

"I think..." said Nuria, turning back and forth, "that I am one good
looking MILF."

                                        -=-
                                        
They stripped down and put on robes long enough to eat dinner and
relax for a while. With ninety minutes to drive, they were just
getting into Pearl's car ten minutes after the time the party was
designated to start. Nuria kept watching the clock inch forward and
forcing herself not to pace. She also didn't say anything to her
roommates, knowing they were just waiting to make fun of her for
wanting to be anywhere near on time.

When they walked inside the house, Nuria felt a bit smug to see a
couple dozen people already milling around. That smugness lasted just
long enough for Carla to lean over and whisper in her ear, "These are
the sycophants."

Nuria looked at her, "What?"

Carla said quietly, "Anybody who showed up in the first hour is here
to curry favor. If they showed up up in the first fifteen minutes, it
was specifically to throw their lot in with Sean over Quentin. Of
course, that doesn't mean they won't be kissing Quentin's ass tomorrow
morning."

Nuria raised an incredulous eyebrow at her roommate. Carla shrugged,
"There's more to being fashionably late than you would think."

"Nuria," called Sean from across the room, projecting his voice so
that everyone heard. Arms extended for a hug, he marched across the
room to her. Wrapping his arms around her, he lowered his head and
kissed her dramatically. Still, it was a good kiss and Nuria found
herself melting into it.

Keeping an arm around Nuria's waist, he hugged Carla, kissing her on
the cheek, "Carla, it's good to see you again."

Carla kissed his cheek in return, "It's been a long time, Sean."

Releasing both of them, he took Pearl's hands in his own, "And this
must be Pearl. I must admit, the way Carla used to talk about you,
I've been looking forward to meeting you for some time." He raised her
hand fractionally and, when she didn't object, leaned down to kiss it.

He made a few minutes of small talk before spying someone new who had
arrived. Turning to Nuria, he said, "Don't disappear. There are so
many people here I want you to meet."

Pearl watched him walk away, then fanned herself dramatically. Letting
her normally-restrained drawl be clearly heard, she said, "My. He is a
tall drink of water. Isn't he?"

"Yeah," said Carla. "I'd kind of forgotten."

Speaking quietly, Nuria said, "If either of you hussies would like to
move in on my man, it would certainly simplify my life."

Carla shook her head. Speaking out of the corner of her mouth, she
said, "Not going down that road again."

                                        -=-
                                        
Quentin had been right about one thing. There turned out to be a ton
of publishing people at the party. The party seemed to be made up
entirely of book people, movie people, artists, and models. Whatever
deprivation Sean's "exile" had wrought, it seemed that enough people
were willing to follow him to the suburbs that, by midnight, the party
was spilling out of its original confines, expanding both upstairs and
even out onto the untrampled snow of the back lawn.

Nuria found herself standing on the freshly-cleared balcony
overlooking the back yard. The house was isolated enough that there
didn't seem to be any neighbors who could register a noise complaint.
It was cold out here, but not as cold as it had been. Inside the
house, it had started to feel like a sauna.

Nuria stood with drink in her hand, looking out over the back yard. A
small gaggle of people clustered close to the house. The yard was a
sheet of unbroken white bordered on two sides by a thick field of
conifers and in the back by a frozen lake.

A statuesque blonde woman in an elegant red dress and carrying a
half-full champagne flute stepped in next to her, looking out in the
same direction Nuria was. Without turning her head, she said, "Ellen
Grace, Aperture Press."

Nuria smiled and turned her head, "Nuria Delgado, Aqueduct."

"Ah," said Ellen, turning to look at her now, "So, you're the one
who's acquired our enfent terrible."

Nuria didn't recognize the phrase, but said, "If you mean Sean, we
haven't exactly acquired him yet. I'm just helping him smooth out the
rough edges on his novel as a personal favor."

Ellen raised an eyebrow making Nuria wonder if she'd missed a double
entendre, "If I were you, I wouldn't get too attached to the idea of
publishing that one any time soon. Some poor sod in my office has been
working on a photo book with him for almost a year and a half. She
says he's about two more flashes of brilliance away from having
something publishable. When he's on, he's amazing. The rest of the
time..." she frowned.

Nuria smiled, "Thank you for the warning."

Ellen took a sip of her drink, "You're working on J. X. Wolffe's next
book too. Aren't you?"

Nuria nodded, "I just got started on it, though."

For the first time, Ellen smiled. Seemingly out of nowhere, she
produced a business card, "If you need anything, give me a call."

Nuria took what she was offered, "I'm afraid my cards haven't come in
yet."

Ellen reacted as if slapped, "All right."

Nuria looked at her, surprised. It was clear that Ellen thought she
was being snubbed. So, she said, "I've only been at Aqueduct for a
week. I wasn't expecting to be at a party with book people so soon."

Ellen raised an eyebrow, "Oh? Where did you work before Aqueduct?"

"Err," said Nuria. "It was a little specialty press in Jersey City."

"Ah," said Ellen. "Quite a jump you've made, then."

Nuria turned her back a bit. It didn't seem she was going to be able
to get away from the subject. Before she could formulate an answer,
though, Ellen said, "I'm probably not the first person to ask that.
Huh?"

Nuria chuckled, "Actually, you are. That's why I don't have a pat
answer ready."

Ellen laughed, "You could just tell me to mind my own business. I'm
really not anyone to talk. Aperture is strictly art-house porn. And
I'm not even a photo editor there. I work with words in photo books.
That makes me pretty much the bottom of the totem pole. I would kill
to work with J. X. Wolffe or even to meet him. I never got to those
parties--before the exile."

Nuria smiled at Ellen. She recognized that this woman might be setting
her up, but her instinct was that she'd found a good person, "I'll ask
Quentin, but I'd love to see you at the party next Friday." She
smiled, "And, as for the bottom of the totem pole, I used to edit
books about cement--in Spanish."

Ellen laughed, "Okay. You win the 'worst job in publishing' contest.
Can you really get me into one of J. X. Wolffe's parties?"

"I think so," said Nuria. "Like I said, I have to ask him. But, it
shouldn't be a problem."

Ellen raised an eyebrow, "It's that easy? What do you want in return?"
She grinned, "Who do I have to sleep with?"

Nuria looked discomfited, "Err..."

Ellen blushed and put her glass down on the patio railing, "Wow. This
champagne is going right to my head. Forget I said that, please."

Before Nuria could answer, Pearl stepped through the doors from
inside. As she opened the door, the pounding beat that had been almost
subsonic resolved itself into music. Pearl said, "There you are. How
did you wind up all the way up here?" Then, she hugged Nuria.

"It's too loud and too hot downstairs," said Nuria. "Besides, all the
book people are upstairs. It's all movie types down there."

Pearl took Nuria's wrist, "Just stay close to me. It's mostly poseurs
and art fags."

"I tried," said Nuria. "But, every time I turned around, you were
surrounded by people."

Pearl smiled, "I'm new meat. Everybody wants a sniff. So are you. It's
time to make your entrance."

"I..." Nuria turned as if trying to escape. Nuria gripped her wrist
fractionally harder, a clear message that she wasn't going anywhere.

Resigned, Nuria made a show of putting Ellen's card in her wallet, "It
was nice to meet you Ellen. If you haven't heard from me by Tuesday,
call Aqueduct and ask for me."

Ellen smiled, "Thanks."

                                        -=-
                                        
While things upstairs had been polite and cordial enough, the party
was in full swing downstairs. It was hotter and louder than it had
been when Nuria had followed the flow of editors up the main
staircase. Carla was dancing in the center of the room surrounded by a
thick cloud of people.

"Who's she dancing with?" Nuria asked, getting her mouth right up next
to Pearl's ear so that she could be heard over the music.

"Everybody," said Pearl. "Or, at least, everyone who's really enjoying
themself."

Nuria didn't have time to ask what Pearl meant. People had been
circling, waiting for an opportunity to descend on the new person. As
if some unseen cue had been given, they approached her from four
sides. When she said she was an editor, most of them faded away. Those
who were still there when she managed to get out that she was working
on Quentin's new book moved in a little closer as if claiming her.

Nuria's notoriety was short-lived however. A few minutes after she
made her entrance, a hush came over the room quickly replaced by an
excited murmur. Since everyone seemed to be looking towards the front
door, Nuria turned that way as well. For a moment, Nuria didn't see
what people were fussing about. Then, she realized who everyone was
looking at.

Standing in center of the archway, looking regal even in a
floor-length black leather coat and blue jeans, was the Barrens
Princess.

                                        -=-

It wasn't the Barrens Princess of course, but Portia Dale, the young
woman who had played her in the movies. Nuria had recognized or
half-recognized a dozen faces here, television actors who hadn't
worked in a few years, Broadway types, and the like. Compared to
Portia Dale, they were commoners. This was an A-List, capital-C
celebrity.

The only reason it had taken Nuria a few seconds to recognize her was
that she didn't look much like she had the last time Nuria had seen
her. The regal bearing that was so much a trademark of the character
she played seemed to come to her naturally. But, her public persona
had apparently drawn even more heavily from the character. For public
appearances, she'd dressed like a princess. Here, she was dressed like
what she really was--a teenager.

Besides that, she'd cut her hair. It was boyishly short and dyed a
shade of red that skirted the edge of credibility.

"Portia," said Sean, appearing from somewhere. It was the same
booming, room-cutting voice he'd used to announce Nuria's arrival.
"I'm so glad you made it."

Portia wrapped herself around him, "Sean. You didn't think I would
miss it. Did you?"

Instead of letting Sean answer, she kissed him. It wasn't a chaste
kiss, either. It was the sort of kiss that was meant to be a
spectacle. Despite the crowd's own sybaritic behavior a few minutes
before, many of them seemed uncomfortable to be watching.

Nuria felt suddenly cold. As hot as the room was, she shivered. Pearl
but a comforting hand on her upper arm.

"Come, come," said Sean. "There are some people I want you to meet.
Where's Nuria?"

Nuria would have ducked behind Pearl if she'd had a second more to do
it, but Sean had already spotted her and was leading Portia over."

"Nuria," he said. "This is Portia Dale. Portia, this is Nuria Delgado,
who inspired both me and some lesser authors to write."

"It's so nice to meet you," said Portia. She stepped in close enough
that Nuria could smell cigarette smoke on her, "Sean has told me so
much about you."

Nuria took Portia's proffered hand and shook it, "It's nice to meet
you too, Miss Dale. I didn't realize you knew Sean."

Portia, whose arm was firmly around Sean's waist, laughed, "Please.
Call me Portia. I haven't let anybody since the nuns call me Miss
Dale."

Indicating with his arm, Sean said, "And this is Pearl, one of Nuria's
roommates. I'm sorry, Pearl. I didn't catch what you do for a living."

"I'm a stripper," said Pearl bluntly. Nuria glanced at her, wondering
where the tone of hostility in her voice came from.

If Portia heard the tone, she ignored it, "You are? For real? That's
fabulous. I..." she looked around the room. "Listen, I have to make
the rounds. But, whatever you do, don't leave until we've had a chance
to talk."

"All right," said Pearl, sounding puzzled.

"Great," said Portia. She kissed Pearl on the cheek before heading
off, Sean now in tow.

"Well," said Nuria once the attention of the room had passed them by.
"She was pretty."

"I'll hate her if you like," offered Pearl.

Nuria shook her head, "No. I knew I was going to have to do something
about Sean. It looks like it's been done for me."

"Good," said Pearl. "Because she seems nice."

                                        -=-

Some time shortly after midnight, the book people started saying their
good byes and leaving. But, by the time two o'clock rolled around, the
heart of the party showed few signs of waning. 

One of the few signs was that Carla finally seemed to run out of
energy for dancing. She flopped down on a couch next to Nuria. A few
minutes later, Pearl found them.

"Are you two ready to go?" Pearl asked.

"Did you get a chance to talk to Portia yet?" Nuria asked.

Pearl shook her head, "No. But, we can go if you like."

Nuria waved her off, "Nah. Let's give it a little more time."

Resting on the couch, she spent the next hour or so talking to a
Broadway choreographer who also seemed to have run out of energy. He
was charming, witty, and quite possibly the gayest man Nuria had ever
met--the perfect companion for the moment. During the conversation,
she'd lost track of her roommates, but knew they wouldn't go far
without her.

The party was finally showing signs of running out of steam when a
woman Nuria vaguely recognized from some of Sean's photographs came
over to the couch.

"Nuria?" she asked. When Nuria nodded, she said, "Sean is looking for
you. He's upstairs."

Nuria rose, made her apologies to the choreographer, braced herself to
look properly disappointed when Sean dumped her, and headed upstairs.

Packed with book people a few hours before, the upstairs seemed
deserted now. It took Nuria a few minutes to find the only room with
even low light on. Looking inside, she saw Sean standing by the
window, shirtless, moonlight etching and deepening the chiseled lines
of his chest and belly.

He turned, "Nuria. Good. I was looking for you. Come in."

Nuria stepped inside, realizing about three steps in that this was a
bedroom. She slowed her pace. Sean, seeming to sense her hestitation,
turned and met her halfway across the room, at the foot of the
four-poster bed. He took one hand and one elbow in his hands.

"Are you having a good time?" he asked.

Nuria looked up at him, "Yes. I am."

Sean leaned down to kiss her, one hand sliding up to entangle itself
in her hair and tilt her head back for full effect. It was very
similar to the kiss he'd given Portia earlier. But, this seemed to be
solely for Nuria's benefit and she found herself melting into his
arms.

"Oh, Sean," she moaned. Despite the fact that she'd drunk almost
nothing tonight, Nuria was starting to feel light-headed. She leaned
against Sean, letting him hold her up.

"Nuria," he said, his smile predatory. "I was wondering if you would
do something for me."

The way he held and touched her coupled with the lust in his voice
made it clear what Sean wanted. She shivered in his arms and would
have agreed to anything. But, a thought that had been dimly troubling
her mind finally clarified itself.

"Sean, why do you need me? You've clearly got Portia Dale."

As soon as she said the name, Nuria had an odd moment of premonition.
It took less than a second to come true.

The room was L-shaped, the corner she hadn't been able to see when she
entered bathed in deeper shadows than the rest of the room. One of
those shadows detached itself from the others and stepped into the
half-light of the room, resolving itself into the actress. Nuria was
too surprised to move before Portia was close enough to lay a hand on
her back.

Nuria turned to look at her. Portia smiled, a hint of the same
predatory spirit that had been overwhelming in Sean's face. But,
mostly the smile conveyed amusement.

"He's had me for a while, sweetie," said Portia. "And now he's had you
too." Her hand ran down Nuria's spine, "But, don't worry. I'm not the
jealous sort."

Nuria shivered and looked up at Sean. He raised an eyebrow and looked
down at her, the question obvious in his eyes.

Nuria took a deep breath and leaned back against Portia. The actress's
hands went around her waist.

                                        -=-

"So?" asked Carla. "Where did you disappear to anyway?"

Nuria hugged herself inside her coat in the back seat, still warmed by
the afterglow of what she'd just done, "Sean wanted me."

"Did he break it off with you?" asked Pearl.

Nuria giggled, something she couldn't remember having done in a long
time, "No--not exactly."

Taking her eyes off the road, Pearl half-turned, "You didn't."

"Watch the road," said Nuria. "And, yes. I did."

None of them spoke for a minute. The sun wasn't visible yet, but
lightened the sky in front of them.

"What about Quentin?" Pearl asked.

"Quentin told me to get Sean out of my system," said Nuria. "I was
just doing what I was told."

"Wait," said Pearl. "You did it with Portia Dale under the same roof?"

Nuria hoped her smile was enigmatic, "Closer than that."

                                        -=-

Somehow, Nuria found herself sitting on the bed between Sean and
Portia without remembering how she got there. Sean was kissing her
throat, Portia running her hands over Nuria's stomach and breasts. In
the process of getting to the bed, she also seemed to have lost her
clothes.

She closed her eyes, letting the sensation of touch become everything.
Hands ran over her breasts and back. Lips, tongues, and teeth teased
her neck and shoulders. Her lips were kissed over and over again.
Sometimes, she could tell who was touching her. The thin, delicate
hands that cupped her breasts, teasing and pinching her nipples were
clearly Portia's. The strong hands that laid her back on the bed,
Sean's.

Most of the time, she couldn't tell or didn't care. She was overcome
by sensation as if her whole body was being touched at once. It wasn't
until a tongue flickered between her thighs, teasing her inner flesh
that her eyes flew open. She looked down to see a head of
boyishly-short nearly impossible red hair pressed between her legs.
Sean lay to Nuria's left, stroking up and down her belly and cleavage,
grinning like a well-fed wolf.

As she felt her pleasure rising, Nuria buried her fingers as best she
could in Portia's hair, dragging the actress up her body to kiss her
on the mouth, their bodies pressed together. Her hands slid down
Portia's body, stroking and petting her. As her hands went down to
Portia's waist, Nuria realized the actress still had her pants on. She
reached for the snap, but Portia caught her wrists gently.

"Not like that," purred Portia. "Not tonight. Just let us make love to
you."

Nuria nodded and lay back. Portia kissed her on the mouth, then traced
a line of kisses down to where she had left off between Nuria's
thighs.

Portia proved to be an enthusiastic and skillful lover as was Sean.
Besides that, they worked well enough together that Nuria suspected
this wasn't their first threesome. Earlier, the thought might have
bothered her more, but she was quivering on the cusp of climax when
she realized it and, if the idea didn't send her over the edge, it
didn't seem to interfere with the process much either.

When Portia stopped what she was doing, she came back up and kissed
Nuria on the mouth. Nuria could taste herself on the actress's lips
and mischievously licked a line down Portia's cheek. Portia smiled
affectionately at her, then leaned up and kissed Sean on the mouth
before rising from the bed.

Nuria was dimly aware of Portia getting dressed, but Sean's ardor was
rising by the moment. He kissed and stroked her like a man preparing
to claim her. And, in short order, he proved her theory correct,
spreading Nuria's legs with one powerful hand and climbing between
them. He entered her easily, hands lifting her hips to better line up
to his thrusts. Nuria's back was arched so that her weight was rested
on her shoulders. Each time Sean impaled her, Nuria had to regain her
balance. Shortly, she began to feel like a ragdoll. It didn't matter.
The pleasure was intense, waves and aftershocks echoing through her
nerves until she was only dimly aware of anything outside of her own
skin. Even Sean's climax barely registered.

                                        -=-

"You did not," said Carla, unable to hide her shock. She had turned
around completely, kneeling on the front seat to look back at Nuria,
who said nothing, but gave her most enigmatic smile.

"Holy shit!" said Carla. "You did. How did you manage that?"

Nuria chuckled, "I didn't plan it. I went upstairs expecting Sean to
break up with me. Instead, he started kissing me and, the next thing I
knew, she was there."

Carla frowned, "He ambushed you with a threesome? Not cool."

Nuria shrugged, "I didn't mind."

Carla's frown didn't disappear, "He tried to pull that on me. That's
why I stopped seeing him."

Nuria didn't say anything. She sat thoughtfully watching the first
slivers of sunrise. Carla continued to watch her.

"But, if you're cool with it, more power to you, Miss D."

Nuria sighed, "It was a nice way to pass an hour."

Neither Carla nor Pearl said anything.

                                        -=-

"This is nice," said Sean, running a finger up Nuria's belly.

"Mmmm," Nuria said, snuggling into his side. "Where did Portia go?"

Sean shrugged, "Damned if I know. I have no control over her."

Nuria kissed his chest, "I should get going. Pearl and Carla are going
to be looking for me."

Sean nodded, sitting up and helping her rise.

"Aren't you glad you picked the right student?" he asked.

Nuria tried not to respond other than to ask calmly, "What do you
mean?"

"Quentin had a crush on you for what he wanted you to be. I always
loved you for what I knew you were."

Nuria gave him a serious look, "And what am I?"

Sean shrugged, "Everybody knew the stories, Nuria. I was never
scandalized, though. I knew that my teachers were people. You were
younger then than I am now, barely out of college."

Nuria decided not to follow the line of the conversation. She didn't
see any point in picking a fight.

                                        -=-

"I need a shower," Nuria announced back at their apartment. She turned
to Pearl, "How about you?"

Pearl shook her head, "I can wait for morning--or afternoon at this
rate."

Nuria stretched and shivered, "It's freezing in here. Do you want to
come keep me warm tonight?"

Pearl raised an eyebrow, "Are you going to behave yourself?"

"I don't know," said Nuria, wiggling her hips. "I'm still pretty wound
up."

"I should probably sleep in my own bed, then."

Nuria looked at Pearl. There was a clear tone of disapprobation in her
tone.

"Is everything all right?"

Pearl looked up from the couch at her, "Don't you think you went a
little overboard tonight?"

Nuria shrugged expansively, "I had a good time tonight."

"Still..." said Pearl.

Nuria's face darkened, "I didn't do anything wrong. Everyone involved
knew what they were doing."

"That's true," said Pearl. "But, Miss D--you did something tonight
that Carla refused to do and was, as I recall, quite incensed when it
was proposed. If you're wilder than Carla and wild enough that I'm not
entirely comfortable about it, doesn't that tell you anything?"

Nuria found herself starting to get angry, but forced herself to
consider what Pearl was saying. She really didn't feel bad for what
she'd done. She would later, she knew. But, right now, she just felt
physically rejuvinated. Still, she remembered the pattern well enough.

"I can't be like you two," Nuria said quietly.

"Nobody expects you to," Pearl replied in kind.

"I mean..." said Nuria. She took a deep breath, "I used to see a
therapist when I first came to New York. After a lot of discussion, I
told him and he agreed that I do not have a good relationship with my
inhibitions."

Pearl sat down next to her, "What does that mean?"

"It means," said Nuria, "that I either let them control me or
completely ignore them. I don't know how to have them and just pick
and choose which ones to listen to or how much weight to give them."

"I..."

Nuria held up a hand, "Most of the time you've known me, it's been the
other way. I was so inhibited that I couldn't even think about sex
without feeling guilty. I hardly even touched myself much less anyone
else. I was settling into spinsterhood. You hit it on the head when
you said I seemed...castrated. That's how I felt. And, it was fine.
But, right now, it seems awful."

"It sounds pretty awful to me," admitted Pearl.

"What I find depressing," said Nuria, "is that I'll almost certainly
go back to that again. And, when I do, I'll look back on this...all of
this and be ashamed of it. I'll be ashamed of all of it, not just what
I did tonight, but what I've done with Quentin and Sean and you. If I
dwell on it...and I will dwell on it, I'll think of what an awful
person I was to dance with that cute boy from Cabaret...I've forgotten
his name."

Pearl seemed to consider what Nuria had said. When she opened her
mouth, she asked, "How did you ever stay married?"

Nuria laughed, even though the question wasn't funny, "Being married
was easy. I didn't have to worry about my inhibitions. All I had to
worry about was what Pete approved or disapproved of. He was my rock
and my moral compass. After he was gone, I just collapsed in on
myself. I miss him terribly."

Pearl leaned back, thinking. Then, she asked, "You're not still seeing
your therapist. Are you?"

Nuria shook her head, "No. I had to stop after a while."

Pearl sat up straight, shock on her face, "Nuria, you didn't."

Nuria laughed, "No. God no, Pearl. I just couldn't afford it anymore.
Therapy is expensive, particularly in New York."

Pearl smiled, her relief clear. She seemed to be watching Nuria.

Nuria asked, "What?"

"If you keep up in this direction, it's going to be a disaster."

Nuria sighed and pushed her hair out of her eyes, "I know. But, I
don't know how to stop without stopping everything and going back to
the way I was."

"You could go back to therapy," suggested Pearl.

Nuria shook her head glumly, "It wasn't really helping."

"Talk to Doug," said Pearl. It wasn't a suggestion. It was spoken as a
command.

Nuria frowned, "I'm not sure I would be comfortable telling my
problems to some office temp turned new age guru."

For a moment, Nuria wondered if she'd finally managed to insult Pearl,
but Pearl laughed, "So, don't tell him about your problems. Just talk
to him about your book idea. You might learn something useful."

"All right," Nuria agreed. She already planned to talk to Doug Fischer
anyway. It didn't hurt to humor her roommate.

"I'm going to get some sleep..." said Pearl finally. She yawned and
added, "...in my own room. If you feel the need to start pulling
strange men off the street, crawl under the covers with me and take
deep breaths until the feeling goes away. I'll see you this
afternoon."

Best and Brightest, Episode 6
by Vulgar Argot
(MFF)

--Vulgar Argot
  http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/VulgarArgot/www
--
"Vulgarity begins when imagination succumbs to the explicit."
  --Doris Day

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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