SHOUT OUT to "graceadlr" for commenting on the last installment; you're the one who made me want to continue writing. Sorry it's just a prequel for now, but I'll continue where I left off in the last story soon. Fair warning - this will be more detailed and story oriented than the other one, but I'm not convinced yet that it needs to be a super long story. I'll leave that decision up to you guys.

chapter: Manic Mondays

song: YOU TOOK ADVANTAGE OF ME - Megan Mullally (Fame Movie Soundtrack)

liquor: Patron Platinum

"Here's to the North, and here's to the South. If you can't do it with a dick, you better do it with your mouth!"

She stood behind the drawing table, leaning over an expansive sketch pad while she squinted her eyes in contemplation. Fiery tendrils of hair snaked over feminine shoulders and the curve of her long back. As the early evening sun climbed in through the window, it caught ahold of the redhead's spiraling locks and seemingly set the air around her head ablaze. The beauty that radiated from the slender woman with the loose black slacks and silk champagne blouse was enough to make Karen Walker's head spin a little.

Please just let it be 5pm so I can leave work and head to the bar. I can't be in the same room as her anymore today.

The socialite ran a delicate hand up the lavender cashmere that clung tightly to her frame, over her breast and to the neckline where she looped a well manicured finger beneath her necklace and pulled it ever so slightly away from her body. She swallowed hard; the string of diamonds wasn't what caused the choking sensation inside her throat, nor was her sweater the cause of the overwhelming feeling of heat as it spread throughout her chest.

The beautiful woman across the office chose that moment to twist her head towards her assistant. The brunette's discomfort was immediately obvious to her. Karen fumbled slightly under the inquisitive gaze as those big doe-eyes made contact with hers. Her entire body hitched under the scrutiny, and she dropped her necklace before she swallowed hard again.

"Karen," the woman began, curious, "are you alright?"

Caught off-guard, Karen threw her hands down to her desk and awkwardly shuffled a few papers around as if she had been in the middle of, wait, what did these people call it? It started with an "f", and she knew it wasn't "fucking." Oh, what was that peasant word again? Well, whatever it was, she supposed she wasn't very convincing at it.

"What? Oh yes, of course, Grace, I'm just in the middle of f... fiiii? Uh, file..." she trailed off, suddenly finding the ceiling very interesting.

"Filing! Karen, it's called filing."

They glared at each other.

"Well I'm not going to get any of this so called quote-un-quote filing done if you keep interrupting me. Besides, filing is what Technician does to my nails once a week. I don't see how you can do the same thing with paper, anyway."

"Sometimes I don't - ok stop beating around the bush. You were staring at me, and I want to know why." The redhead ran an exasperated hand through her hair.

"Ha! I'll show you what 'beating around the bush' really means," Karen laughed heartily at her joke and then slumped back into her chair, complete amusement washed over her pale and stunning features.

"KAREN! Tell me why you were staring! I'm worried I have mustard on my face or something."

The brunette huffed.

"Oh fine, alright honey, I was just waiting for you to sprout some sort of hunchback and start singing 'The Bells of Notre Dame' from the way you've been leaning over that table of yours."

Grace threw her blue sketching pencil down and immediately straightened her back.

"You know what, Karen? It's not my fault that Chef mistook your vodka flask for Mason's thermos this morning and sent you to work with hot chocolate instead."

She glared at her indignant assistant and waited for the no-doubt inappropriate reply.

"Well it wouldn't have been such an issue if Chef had been mixing that little porker's hot chocolate with half Bailey's like I told him to!"

She slammed her hand on her desk for emphases before she rolled her eyes and looked away from Grace. Of course the thermos/flask mix-up only partly contributed to her irritation today. The majority of her frustration came from having to soberly deal with the redhead's shirt that was conveniently unbuttoned one button too low, and how the silk lay so smoothly over her chest. The thin fabric never revealed anything, but didn't quite hide the fact that Grace wasn't wearing a bra either, and it was driving Karen wild.

"Kids in college don't need thermoses, anyway!"

"You know, I'm working hard over here, and you're hardly working. I do my best to provide work for us, and you never contribute! I feel like I need a drink even more than you do."

Karen jumped and turned her head towards her boss. Her dark, hazel eyes softened immediately and her voice rose several octaves.

"Why Gracie, I never thought of it that way before. You do work so hard for us, and provide our little family with such a good life. Oh honey I forgive you. You're a great husband." She stood up and stretched her arms out wide, as if she expected Grace to come running to her to scoop her up in a big hug.

"Ohhh-Hooo, wait a minute!"

The red head threw her hand up in the air.

"Karen I didn't say I worked hard to provide for us, I said provide work for us. Last time I checked I am not your husband, and second, I don't accept your forgiveness; I never apologized for anything because I didn't do anything wrong."

The smoldering brunette rolled her eyes and sat down hard, her breasts bouncing slightly as she landed.

"Tell that to your offensive blouse," she muttered to herself, hoping Grace would react.

"I heard that! There's nothing wrong with Anne Taylor."

"The only thing wrong with Anne Taylor is that she's still designing clothes."

"If I could afford Alexander McQueen, I would be wearing it."

The redhead emphasized her point by sticking her tongue out at the socialite before she leaned back down and grabbed her discarded pencil. She drew two more lines on her pad before glancing at Karen's miserable face.

"Alright look, let's just stop here for the day. Why don't we agree to get here early tomorrow and start over again. We can just forget about today, go out and get a drink at the bar down the street."

"Honey if you're drinking with me I have a feeling you won't be going anywhere early tomorrow."

Grace snorted as she picked up her brown leather purse, "what does that mean, exactly?"

Karen's hand paused over her burgundy Balenciaga bag. The image of Grace on her back begging for the brunette's hands on her body just wouldn't leave her mind.

"Oh, uh, nothing, Grace. I just meant that I could out drink you, which is tried and true, and that you wouldn't be able to get out of bed for a week."

DEVIL! There she went again, imagining Grace in her bed. She seriously hoped her boss hadn't suddenly developed the ability to read minds.

The redhead simmered slightly under her blazing hair.

"You're on."

"Honey, I'm not on anything today, I can promise you that. Unless you count the two little blue pills I found in the floorboards this morning," she deadpanned.

Grace rolled her eyes, exasperated, "no, Karen, I mean, you're on!"

"Oh, I'm allllways on, Grace."

She shook her head on smacked her forehead. Karen was ridiculous.

"Fine, honey! I'll play your stupid game. I'm on what?"

They reached the bottom of the stair well and Grace held the front door open for Karen, which never failed to make the billionaire swoon ever so slightly.

"A drinking challenge. We're going to Monday Happy Hour at the bar of my choice so that way I know you don't cheat by having your Smitty-Of-The-Day over pour all my drinks, and we're going to have a full on drinking contest."

As they stepped out into the late September evening, Karen couldn't help but hold back her violent chuckles.

"Ha, hahaha, hahahahaha, Grace! You are just too funny tonight. We've done this before, and you always lose."

When she saw the sincere look in her boss's greenish-amber eyes, she paused and smirked. 'Drunk!Grace' was her all-time favorite, and she couldn't help but jump at any chance to get the woman to loosen up.

"Oh alright, Grace. I'll take you up on your pathetic attempt to get me wasted and take advantage of me again. Though if you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask."

The redhead's eyes flew open wide and she threw her hand to her gaping mouth.

"What?! No! Karen, that's not what I was trying to do at all - "

Karen immediately laughed and threw herself into Grace for a clumsy embrace.

"Honey! Your. Face. Is. Hilaaaarious right now! Close your mouth before people think you're having a stroke; let's go. It's time to get wasted, and I've been sober all day so you don't even get the advantage of a head start. You poor commoner. I'm gonna wipe the floor with your drunk ass."

They were only four shots and a couple drinks in and Grace was giggling at absolutely nothing. Karen still felt stone-cold sober, and her amusement at her friend's hysterical laughter only grew when the redhead asked for another round.

"Listen Grace, let me get this round," she said as she turned towards to the bartender. "Hey! You! Two chilled shots of Patron Platinum, and skip the training wheels."

She saw the shrewd eye roll from the bartender. "First off, 'hey you' won't get you anywhere, and just so you know it's $50 per shot for Platinum."

Karen straightened up and haughtily eyed the bartender down her slender nose. She unbottoned her black Fendi jacket and reached into her sweater to pull ten $100 bills from her cleavage. Grace's eyes zeroed in on Karen's chest in surprise.

"Will this get me somewhere?"

The bartender balked.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Grace, this is why I don't like going to shady-ass bars in the East Village with different daily slogans like 'Manic Mondays'. Their toothless staff always looks like they stepped off the cover of 'Fashion For Hippies and the Homeless'."

She turned to look at the redhead and saw the woman's eyes were still blatantly on her chest.

"Now you're the one who's staring, honey. They're perfect, am I right?"

"Hey Karen," she started, not quite slurring, but clearly feeling the effects of the tequila, "how did you pull all that out of your boobs? And do you have anything else in there that I should be aware of?"

Karen giggled and grabbed her breasts, "just a pair of smoking guns, baby!"

Grace rolled her eyes and put her head on the bar. She really shouldn't have challenged Karen to a drinking game, but she had wanted to spend some extra time with the woman that didn't include being in the office.

"Aww," Karen smiled and placed her hand on Grace's head. She hesitantly stroked her fingers through the woman's long, wavy hair, "still want to get to work early tomorrow, Gracie?"

The woman with her face rooted to the splintered wood merely groaned in response. The bartender sat two shots on the bar, and Karen grinned.

"I'll take the whole bill, Smitty," she said, picking up a shot in each hand and swallowed both shots at the same time as if the liquid was nothing more than water, "I've got to get my girl home."

The man placed the check in front of Karen.

"You two make a beautiful couple," the snotty bartender brown-nosed. Karen knew he was only thinking of the money in her wallet, but she couldn't help but feel the rise of feral butterflies in her stomach at the suggestion, and the warmth that blossomed over her chest at the idea of her and Grace being a real, legitimate couple.

"Yeah, she's something special, alright. Ok come on, Train-Wreck," she poked Grace in the ribs so hard that the woman startled and almost fell off her barstool, "it's time to get your tequila breath to bed."

Grace wrapped her arms around Karen's neck as she used the shorter woman for support.

"You can take my tequila breath to bed any time," she grinned, her eyes slightly crossed.

The brunette swatted the woman's hands from around her shoulder. Grace was definitely drunk if she was alluding to sex with Karen.

"Oh no, I'm not carrying you anywhere, Ginger. Stand up straight like the man you are and walk to the limo. I don't want to have to get Rosie in here to chase you with the pitch-fork again, because it takes a lot out of her and I need her at her best tomorrow for the Annual Upper West Side Maids Cage Match."

Karen threw a few bills onto the bar and guided Grace through the door and into the vehicle parked out front waiting for them.

"Grace's place, Driver," Karen demanded, but softened as Grace laid her head down in her lap. She didn't even mind that the redhead's fingers were clenched tightly around her expensive coat.

They took the drive in silence; Grace snoozed in her boozey haze while Karen gently ran her right hand up and down the woman's back and shoulder.

How you manage to bring the affectionate side out of me, I'll never know. I paid good money to have those emotions sawed off.

She laughed at the thought, but also sobered slightly in the process. It was a little alarming at how she always seemed to let the redhead in, even when her natural instincts screamed at her to shut down and shut out. Grace was straight, and her attraction for the woman could only end up hurting herself in the end. She sighed and looked down to the sleeping form. She could continue to push her feelings aside in order to remain friends with her, because having Grace as a platonic friend was better than telling her how she felt and losing her entirely. That's what she constantly told herself, anyway.

When the limo rolled to a stop in front of 155 Riverside Drive, Karen felt the woman stir on her lap. She looked down and shook Grace slightly.

"Gracie, sweetheart, we're here."

The redhead sat up and groaned as the world tilted ever so slightly on its axis. She reached for the door but her hand didn't seem to work properly. Her lips turned downwards as she began to pout. Karen rolled her eyes and exited the car on the left side, walked around the back, and opened Grace's door for her.

"Oh hey there, thank you Karen," the redhead grinned goofily, and took the small hand extended in front of her.

"Your highness," Karen mused as she helped the drunk girl out of the car.

They walked together into the lobby, across the floor, and into the elevator. Karen punched the 9th floor button and side-eyed her friend as the doors closed. When the elevator jolted into action, the redhead fell forward and pinned Karen up against the wall. She felt a rush of excitement as their bodies collided, and they held each other close the rest of the ride up; Karen bit her lip hard to keep from reaching forward to smear her perfectly applied MAC Matte in Ruby Woo all over the taller woman's face.

When the elevator dinged, they slowly walked arm-in-arm to 9C. Grace tried to fish her keys out of her purse, but refused to drop hold of Karen's elbow, which made the ordeal quite a process.

"Hey so I know I'm the one who said it, but did you still want to get to work early tomorrow?"

Karen laughed at the woman's absurd question. "Sweetheart, I think that ship has sailed. But I'll tell you what. I promise to be in to work by 10am if you remember to shower before you leave the apartment tomorrow."

Grace turned and leaned heavily against her door, the confusion painted clearly upon her features.

"What? Karen, I always shower before work..."

The brunette laughed and placed a hand on the woman's bicep as she leaned in close in mock sympathy.

"I guess it's just your awful choice in perfume that's so off-putting, then."

She just couldn't help herself. The digs were easy, and it helped her fool herself into ignoring her feelings for her boss.

"I wear Burberry! That's not a bad perfume," the redhead retorted, only mildly annoyed. Karen merely shrugged her shoulders and winked.

There was a pause while they stared at each other, both awkwardly waiting for the other to say something.

"Do you need help getting inside?"

Red locks waved slightly as the woman shook her head. "No. Thank you, though. I'm dizzy, but Will can help me if I need it."

It was the response she expected, but she couldn't help let her face fall.

"Right. Your wife, Wilma."

Grace wrapped two hands around Karen's waist. Her face was mischievous and suddenly very alluring. The brunette could hear a loud ringing in her ears as the woman holding her leaned in and whispered in her ear, "I thought you said I was your husband."

Karen's body began to tingle violently and the ringing increased ten fold as she felt soft lips move gently over her ear, ghost over her cheek, and then press hard into her own. It was quick, fleeting, but electric.

"Good night, Karen," she said, as she turned and walked through her door.

The woman still standing in the hall was shocked to say the least. Her hands rose up to touch her lips and cheek which were still sparking from the brief contact.

"Good night, Gracie," she whispered, a large grin painted over her beautiful face. She could even taste the lime from the redhead's tequila shots.

Karen was suddenly really into Manic Mondays at the Burp Castle.