Disclaimer: If I owned Stargate, do you think I would be worried about paying back my student loans?

A/N: This is what what happens when you live alone, far from home, and have the flu. Thanks to the systers for the beta and more thanks to Lyss, who suggested the title.


It was a smoke filled dive, the kind of place that any respectable U.S.A.F. general wouldn't be seen.

But he wasn't any respectable U.S.A.F. general. Some of the things he'd done in the name of his country had seen to that. And besides, he wasn't here as General Jack O'Neill, he was here as just Jack – a man in search of sex.

Yes, he loved Sam Carter. Had been in love with her for years, and while he had certainly entertained more than a few illicit fantasies of the two of them, even some dreams of the two of them getting together one day, he was no monk. He was a man who had needs, and if the Air Force had regulations against him fulfilling those needs with Carter, he certainly wasn't above finding appropriate substitutes. But in a perverse way, he was faithful to her…while other women had enjoyed his body, Sam Carter owned his heart. And there wasn't a damn thing they could do about it.

Even though some had tried, and Jack felt sorry for them. It wasn't their fault he could never think of them as anything except a mindless fuck. No, they could blame Carter for that.

Even though the woman in question was blissfully ignorant of this fact.

He had a number of places that he frequented. Of course they were all on the opposite side of town, even outside the city limits, taking as much care as he could to lessen the risk of seeing any SGC personnel. He was no idiot, after all, although he sometimes pretended he was.

Seating himself at the bar, his eyes adjusted to the smoke, searching for potential candidates in which he could bury himself and take care of his needs and found quite a few. Lucky for him, the place was indeed a 'target rich environment', stealing a line from Top Gun, a movie he secretly liked.

Then he spotted her, and immediately decided to make his move. She was his choice for the night.

The tight bodied blonde sat at the other end of the bar, sipping her cocktail, raising her eyebrows at him in a come-hither pose as she caught him looking at her. Jack smiled at her and motioned to the bartender to send her another drink. No, she wasn't Sam Carter. Sam Carter wouldn't be at a bar, looking for a good lay, like this woman who bore a passable resemblance to his blonde, blue eyed genius. No doubt she was home, fucking her boyfriend. No, make that fiancé now. She was fucking the fiancé. Not for the first time he wondered if she was on top when they did it? He'd be willing to bet money that the detective weasel wasn't man enough to satisfy her from the Captain's seat, and that she had to fly that vessel on her own.

He snorted at this last thought. He could almost see it. He even wondered if Petey boy knew where the clitoris was. He was willing to bet money that he didn't. On second thought, he hoped Petey did know his way around the bed. The thought of Carter tolerating a bad lover would be too damned depressing to entertain.

The blonde smiled her thanks at him, accepting the drink and motioned for him to come join her.

No, she wasn't Sam Carter, but tonight, he could pretend she was.