“I’m thinking we should all send in our applications to join the FBI,” Fenny announced around a mouthful of salad. “Between the five of us, we’ve managed to break up some drug rings and rescue kidnap victims – even though the victims were us – and send a couple evildoers to jail, that’s a pretty good track record if you ask me.”

“No, they’d never take us,” Greg chided. “We’d have to form our own special taskforce, like the Mod Squad.”

“Charlie’s Angels,” Paul corrected.

“VIP,” Brad countered.

“Scooby Doo,” Gina chimed.

“I agree, we’ve done so well with the Scooby theme,” Fenny smiled, “and everyone gets to stay fully clothed.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Brad pouted.

“All I have to say is I’m never fighting evil in stilettos ever again,” Gina announced, wishing like hell that she’d demanded they find a place to purchase decent shoes before going to dinner. As it was her feet were aching, but she wasn’t about to peel off those horrid boots in a swanky French restaurant. She’d just have to wait until they made their way to their recently acquired swanky French hotel room, which was seeming like a better idea with every passing minute.

“And there’s no way I’d be able to kick the shit out of any group of gun totting morons while wearing a tube top,” Fenny scorned.

“You couldn’t kick the shit out of a sick goat wearing combat fatigues,” Greg laughed.

“Why would a goat be wearing fatigues?” Paul queried. “Is this some sort of weird sexual thing, Proops?”

“Oh shut the hell up, McDermott,” Greg countered as he fought off a laugh.

“Maybe that special taskforce idea wasn’t so good after all,” Brad laughed, “we’d kill each other before getting the villains.”

“Too bad Don couldn’t be paying for our dinner,” Fenny sighed. “All that money gone to waste.”

“Fen, it was drug money. Drug money is to be avoided at all cost,” Gina scorned.

“Could’ve gotten it laundered,” Brad mused.

“I’m not about to add money laundering to my repertoire of illegal activities,” Paul announced. “Throwing it in the river is as close as I’m getting.”

“Where’s a box of borax when you need it,” Fenny sighed. “Could’ve laundered the cash real good…”

Greg rolled his eyes at her. “And to think I once thought you were funny,” he said, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment.

“Funny, I used to think the same thing about you,” she smirked.

“Ooh, they’re resorting to the low blows now,” Paul announced with a smile.

“Should we send them to their rooms?” Gina asked.

“Tell them to stay there until they’ve learned their lessons?”

“We may never see them again.”

“And this is a bad idea why?”

“Good point.”

“I’m going to my room just to avoid you two,” Fenny chuckled.

“See you in the morning guys,” Paul chimed as he and Gina found their room first, Greg and Brad and Fenny still heading down the hall to find their own.

“And please, I don’t want to hear from you until breakfast,” Greg grumbled.

“Hear that Genie, quiet orgasms so you don’t make Proops realize what a miserable lonely bastard he is,” Paul said sternly.

“I’ll try, but I’m not promising anything,” Gina laughed as Paul got the door open. “Night everyone.”

“Night,” they chimed.

“Ooh, now this is my kind of hotel,” Paul nodded appreciatively as they wandered inside.

“I’m surprised they let us in,” Gina giggled as she collapsed on the bed to pull off her boots, “you looking like some mad raver and me decked out like a drug dealing whore.”

“Aw, you don’t look so bad,” Paul said, stepping away from the window and towards her, his eyes running over the low neckline of her shirt and settling on her pants. “I like the leather,” he grinned.

“Why doesn’t that come as a surprise?” Gina laughed. “I have to say I like your sparkly pants as well. And the shirt, very nice indeed.” She teasingly undid one button, opening his neckline a bit more to expose some of his bare chest, which she reached towards to kiss.

“I thought you’d like it,” he breathed, leaning into her warm breath.

“I’ve got to wash this makeup off my face,” she announced suddenly, leaving Paul in open-mouthed dejection as she skipped off to the bathroom without so much as a smile in his direction. He sat on the bed and waited until she emerged to get the kiss he was owed.

“Look at this,” Gina cooed, grabbing Paul by the hand and dragging him into the bathroom.

“That’s quite the tub,” Paul gasped, looking into the marble bathtub that was more a hot tub for 12 than a simple means of cleansing oneself. “It’d take an hour to fill that thing.”

“Gives us time to call room service,” Gina smiled and turned on the faucet.

“I like your way of thinking,” Paul smiled and leaned in for a kiss. “Chocolate, right?” he smiled.

“This is why I married you,” she cooed.

“Because I can order you chocolate covered strawberries?”

“Guess again,” she snickered.

“Um, because I’ll have sex with you in a bathtub?”

“Close. Because you can read my mind and know exactly how to make me happy.”

“Hey, we’ve all got to be good at something. I give you chocolate, you give me blowjobs.”

“Sounds like a fair trade to me,” she said slyly, pushing him out into the bedroom. “Go call room service and I’ll see what I can do.”

Fenny and Brad slipped into their hotel room, smiling at the posh comfort of it: elegant décor, pleasant if mildly cliché pieces of art on the walls, huge bathroom, glorious bed.

“Ooh, satin sheets,” Fenny breathed, checking beneath the bedspread.

“Boy, these French know how to party,” Brad chuckled.

“It is the city of romance,” she reminded him with a grin.

“I’m gonna go see if I can get someone in the kitchen who doesn’t speak the language of love,” he smiled, kissing her on the cheek and closing the bedroom door to find the phone in the front room of the suite.

Fenny glanced around the room and let her eyes settle on the heavy blue curtains, and pulled them back to reveal a breathtaking view of Paris and the perfect balcony on which to enjoy it. She opened the doors and stepped out into the evening, holding her arms around herself in an attempt to ward off the cool breeze.

Down on the streets below were countless figures, some in pairs, some alone or in groups, and Fenny idly wondered what their stories were, what had brought them to Paris, if anyone’s story could compare to her own, if some other confused soul on a balcony had looked down at the approaching forms of her and her friends, foolishly and innocently assumed little of their lives…

“What, no Eiffel Tower?” Brad gasped as he made his way out onto the balcony and wrapped Fenny up in his arms.

“Would have been perfect if we could see it from here, huh?” she smiled as she leaned her head against his chest to watch the lights of the town flicker to life. “Like something out of a Meg Ryan movie.”

“I think it’s perfect the way it is,” Brad smiled, and reached out a hand to cup her face, guiding it carefully away from the view.

“I think so too,” she agreed, and let her fingers wander up his chest, around his neck, and into his hair to pull him down for a deep, sweet kiss. It was so wonderful to be able to relax in his arms again after such a trying couple of days, such a miserable year. But she couldn’t ignore that one part of her brain that wanted to kiss him not for the usual reasons, but to keep him from going into another of his “Let’s stay here forever” speeches (probably suggesting they become street performers on the Champs-Elysees) which would inevitably lead to another proposal of marriage.

Brad’s hand stroked its way down her all but bare back, and the shiver her body gave in response shook all the thoughts from her mind and she fell into the kiss – hands roamed across bodies as the city fell into darkness, and when they broke their embrace to reluctantly take in a bit of air, the lights of Paris and pure love shone in Brad’s eyes.

“I meant what I said,” Fenny said breathily, “about your heroics being so sexy.”

“Did you mean what you said about letting me rip that sexy outfit off you?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

“The quicker I’m out of these plastic pants the better,” she laughed.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he growled, pulling her to him again, but they were interrupted by a knock at the door. “Room service,” he gasped. “Wait here, I’ll be right back, I’ve got a surprise for you.” And with that he burst back into the room and all but skipped out to the front door, Fenny shaking her head after him.

Greg flumped down on his bed, not paying much attention to his surroundings. One hotel was as bad as the next, especially when your bed was empty. After calling room service for a nice bottle of red wine, he stripped to his boxers, climbed in bed, turned on the television, and promptly ignored it. It was probably time to call his agent, who was most likely being harassed for Greg’s continued absences. He should probably also call his wife, who was by then either pissed or worried that he hadn’t called in a few days. It wouldn’t be a pleasant task, but it was one that would have to be done. He glanced at his watch. In California it wasn’t even noon yet, he’d wait until a better time to call.

A better time turned out to be half a bottle of wine and the last half of a badly dubbed version of Lethal Weapon later. Greg took another swig from his glass and cradled the phone receiver against his shoulder as he dialed with one hand and sloshed the wine in the other.

The phone rang. Three times. Then her chipper voice rang in his ear, and a wave of loneliness washed over him. “Hi babe,” he cooed. “Where am I… If I said France, would you kill me? I thought so. No look, now, listen, please. Ok. I ran in to Gina, and no, nothing’s happened, Paul’s here too, and Brad and Fenny. Yes Sherwood. She’s…that other girl, yes. Wait, can I explain—yes, I’ve been drinking, but only because I miss you. It is not a line! I promise. I know, I’m sorry I haven’t called, I haven’t had the time. Seriously, I have not had the time. No, nothing like that. Now will you listen to me? Thank you for the enthusiasm. We all went sightseeing, and Brad, being the fuckhead he is, got his bag confused with a bag full of drug money, only we didn’t know it was drug money at the time, so we hunted out the place the guy who owns it lives, and he kidnapped Fen. Yes, she’s the one we chased around Australia. Bad karma? I don’t know. Look, if I was making this up, I’d come up with something better than this, wouldn’t I? Well the guy got Paul too, and we followed them to Paris. No, Texas, of course France! Daring rescue, you know how it goes, I hit some monolith of a man with a tire iron or something, it went well, no one noticed but the guy I broke, under appreciated as usual. I wanna get back to E-burgh as soon as I can, and then home even faster. Because I miss you, darling, don’t you miss me? Red wine of some sort. Oh, not too much, I promise. Look, I’ll get a note signed by the guys saying I’ve been good. Thank you. I know, I miss you too. I guess I should let you go then. I’ll try and get some sleep, but you know how I am with hotels. As soon as I get to Edinburgh. Alright. Thanks hon. Goodnight.”

Greg hung up the phone, refilled his glass, and leaned back against the headboard. “That went well,” he nodded to himself, and went back to the television to search for something worthwhile.

“So,” Gina sighed as she leaned back against one of the jets in the tub, “what did you and Fen do to amuse yourselves while you were being held hostage?”

“Oh, same as usual,” Paul shrugged, “beat up some bad guys, whined a bit, did some drawing, thought up things we’d rather be doing, fucked with her mind.”

“I don’t know why she puts up with you,” Gina chuckled, and accepted the strawberry Paul was offering, biting off the chocolate covered end and letting him finish it off himself.

“Oh, I think I know why,” he laughed.

“Why, what happened?” Gina asked, raising her head to look at him.

“Did you know she’s got a neck fetish?”

“I’ve seen her artwork, I’m not surprised.”

“She’s never thought of sleeping with me,” Paul announced.

“Not sober, you mean,” Gina countered with a light snigger.

“But she likes the idea of me nibbling on her neck,” he continued with a smug smile.

“Not that I can blame her, I like the idea too.” Gina’s dreamy smile dropped to a frown. “Why do you know this?”

“I told you, I was fucking with her mind,” Paul giggled.

“What did you do to the poor girl?”

Paul’s smile dropped, his face the picture of erotic seriousness. He moved closer to her in the tub, scented soap bubbles clinging to his body, and straddled Gina around the waist. She raised an eyebrow as he leaned over and blew a soft breath into her ear, causing her to shiver regardless of the hot water. “I’ll bet you like having your neck nibbled, don’t you?” he whispered into her ear. She cocked her head in response, which he took as encouragement, and dropped a few kisses on her neck.

“This is what you did to Fen?” Gina asked.

“Well, I was wearing pants at the time,” he said into her flesh, “and I only teased her.” He nipped at her jaw. “Got pretty worked up, too. Said she wanted me to do all sorts of nasty things to her.”

“Leave it to you to turn on your wife’s best friend when you’re being held captive by drug dealing sickos,” Gina mused, wrapping her arms around him. “I hope she hit you for that.” Her hands slid down his wet back, down into the water to gently squeeze his butt.

“Ooh,” Paul giggled. “Actually she did exactly that! And I told her that’s yours and yours alone.”

“How sweet of you, defending your arse for me,” Gina laughed, giving his rear another squeeze and reaching up to capture his lips with her own in a hungry kiss as his wet fingers tangled in her damp hair and her hands trailed across every part of his body available to her as he sat in her lap. Even after they came up for air, panting and sweating from the heat, they dropped breathless kisses on each other’s face and shoulders.

“I think we’ve been in the tub too long,” Paul announced.

“What? Why?” Gina gasped.

“Your wrinkled fingers are like sandpaper,” he said, trailing a similarly wrinkled hand over her stomach as a demonstration. “The bubbles are almost all gone. And we’re almost out of strawberries.” He picked up the last on the plate and ate it, smiling at Gina’s obviously disappointed face.

“But I like it in here,” Gina challenged.

“Darling, there are certain things I want to do to you that simply cannot be accomplished with the lack of leverage and friction found in a hot tub.” He smiled wickedly down at her.

“Oh, well in that case,” Gina smiled in agreement and watched as he slipped out of the tub, the bubbles trailing down his body. “You definitely owe me another bubble bath.”

“If I must,” he grinned, reaching for her hand to help her from the tub and leading her, dripping, into the bedroom.

Brad found Fenny brushing her hair in the bathroom and called her out into the bedroom. “I have a present for you,” he said in a singsong voice.

“Do you really?” she asked, eyebrows raised expectantly as she made her way around the bed to his nodding form. “What is it?” She reached behind him, where he was obviously hiding something.

“Nope,” he laughed, dodging away from her. “You’ve got to earn it.”

“Earn it?” she asked, raising her eyebrows in disbelief.

“Just a kiss?”

“Oh, well I can work with that.” With a grin she stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Mid-kiss, she jumped up, circling his waist with her legs, and, startled, he dropped what he was holding to support her. She looked over his shoulder to see a bottle lying on the floor. “Chocolate sauce, huh?” she sniggered. “Brings back good memories, doesn’t it?”

Brad nodded and took a few steps towards the bed and dropped her, giggling, on it. “Want to make a few more?”

“Well now that all depends,” she said as she propped herself up on one elbow.

“Hey now, you promised,” Brad protested.

“Only if I get first go with the chocolate sauce,” she declared as he leaned down to pick it up.

“Only if I get to get you out of the vinyl and sparkles first.”

Fenny looked up at the ceiling for a moment, seemingly in thought. “Deal,” she laughed, leaning up and grabbing him by the shirt to pull him and the chocolate sloppily down on the bed with her.

“Something’s got you awful frisky tonight, Fen,” Brad chuckled.

“Chocolate sauce, adventure, and the promise of a wonderful night in Paris with my hero,” she cooed, crawling over him to unbutton his shirt.

“Think this is the way Superman and Lois Lane go at it?”

Fenny paused in her ministrations to look at him strangely. “It worries me that you’ve thought about that,” she said with a smile.

“If you knew half the things I was thinking right now, you’d be more than worried,” he laughed.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” she prodded.

“Like what could I do to make you scream loud enough to wake up Proops?”

“You know I’m not a screamer.”

“Which is what makes the challenge so great,” he laughed.

“I’m up for it if you are,” she giggled, and together they rolled over so Brad was on top of her, working against the button of her pants, and Fenny reached for the bottle of chocolate sauce, thrilling at the coldness of it.

Greg was wondering just was had urged him to watch an entire half hour of French sitcoms and was suddenly very grateful to have had the wine to keep him occupied. His wife was pissed at him, although she seemed to have accepted his explanation and his pleas of innocence and was more upset that he hadn’t called home and given a play-by-play account of his adventures so she could keep tabs on him. To think that all those hours of counseling were meant to reinstate their sense of trust in each other. Was Greg demanding to know her daily activities to prove she wasn’t running off with any of the men she’d been involved with over the past five years? No, because he trusted her enough.

He leaned over to refill his glass, only to find the bottle empty. With a sigh he collapsed back onto the pillows and turned off the television with the hope of maybe falling asleep. The fact that the wine was now coursing warmly through his body, slowing his mind and his body to a near standstill anyway was a great aid in this endeavor.

Just as he was dozing off, two sets of ecstatic screams filtered into his room a few seconds apart, one from either side. He briefly found himself wondering which was Gina and which was Fenny before regaining his senses. “I even asked them nicely not to,” Greg hissed, throwing the empty bottle across the room, hoping that the breaking of glass was in some way distracting to someone’s lovemaking. If he had to be miserably celibate, there was no reason any of his friends should be enjoying themselves anywhere near that much.

He nodded resolutely to himself before laying back and passing out in bed.