Title: That Crazy Crichton-dales
Authors: sassy_lion & prowler junkie (who is now narcoleptic...)
Authors' Notes: This story was cooked up after one frelled up messenger conversation, a warm fantasy and a 3 am scribbling... you have been warned!!!!
Spoilers: Some time after "Dog With Two Bones"
Sassy_lion's thanx to: Lizzy V, Holly, Ruth, Jasmine, Erica and others for being in the "audience", Joe (my baby, who I love more than life itself) as one of the scantlily-dressed men... and maren for no absolute reason at all, maybe I should thank you for finishing the messenger quote after "Coup by Clam", abot Ben wearing that dress... and to my insatiable honey, Joe. i love you more than words could ever say.
THAT CRAZY CRICHTON-DALES
SASSY_LION and PROWLER JUNKIE
(C) August 2002
"Who's in charge here?" Crichton demanded as he entered the small dark club, breathing in a light smell that reminded him of Aeryn's hair. He cringed slightly at the memory, wondering how long it had actually been since he thought of Aeryn.
John looked around slowly tyring to wonder why he had been directed to this club over all the others on planet. In the corners of the large visible room, iniature spot lights showed walls painted a deep blue tone. Around the inside, thirteen tables were set up. Each table was translucent blue with small lights in the base of the table that made it glow, as were the three chairs at each. In the background, a large, out-of-place crimson curtain fell on to a dimly lit raised stage.
"Our saviors. Our true goddesses. The two that brought us into the light..." choursed a group of thirty girls that sat at tables near the stage. John could barely see the ones waiting on all of them-- five scantily-dressed men wearing nothing but a pair of black leather pants and a bow tie. Familiarity raised in his mind, but when and where he'd seen it before he couldn't remember.
"Okay then..." John trailed off for a microt, "... good for you. Where the hell are they?"
Everyone, including all the men, looked as the crimson curtain raised slowly. The first thing John noticed was the lighting was an off-set light blue. The walls were wood paneled and dozens of posters stuck to the panels at various lengths and angles. A decadent red sofa, large enough for ten people, took up the middle of the stage
In the center of the sofa were two Sebecean-looking females. The younger one, looking about 15, was precariously balanced on the high back, softly humming to herself as her feet swung nonchalantly underneath her. The older, looking about 18 or 19, had her back against the cushions, her feet on the backing as she diligently filed her nails, humming softly as well.
The younger one's legs stopped swinging suddenly as she looked up to see why the curtain had been raised. Her jaw dropped as she noticed John standing in the middle of the room. "Nikolle," she whispered, turning slightly to the older female.
"What?" she snapped, hoping she had been interrupted for a definite purpose. The younger one pointed. Nikolle just turned her head, acknowledged him, and went back to filing her nails.
"Oh my god, Oh My God, OH MY GOD!" She jumped up and down on the couch a few times before she let out an ear-piercing scream and resorted to bouncing around the room hysterically, still repeating the same three words.
John looked slightly confused as he tried to back out the door he had come in. But while his attention had been diverted to the two on stage, all the girls had crowded behind him, blocking his one and only escape route.
Nikolle continued with her nails, when the last one had been filed, her interest shifted to John. Her eyes glanced up and down his muscular form. Cocking her head from one side to the other, she nodded in appreciation. With a short nod, the girls began to push him toward the stage. With a low whistle, she called the younger one back on to the stage. Giggling to herself, the younger one began to run her own eyes over his form in equal admiration.
"He's the one," she announced softly over the "oh, gawd" sound the girls were making from behind her. Promptly, she passed out on the floor with a THUMP.
"Don't worry about her. She'll be fine. She does that all the time." Nikolle swung her feet to the floor, and in one fluid motion was standing before him.
"Who the frell are you guys?" John's voice was filled with utter confusion and a slight tinge of nervousness.
Nikolle offered her hand and pulled him on the stage, "You have nothing to fear, John Crichton, but if you must know.... I am Nikolle and the unconscious one is my best friend, Elizabeth."
"What the..." John stammered, "they're Earth names." He tried once again to break away, but the security was just as tight under the stage, not to mention the 5'7", 145 lb., toned female with her arms wrapped around his neck and her fingers curling through his hair.
Nikolle felt the sudden grip of tension. "As I have said, you have nothing to fear..." she purred softly as her fingers trailed down his neck and shoulders to his abdomen, "...but much to gain." She slipped gracefully under his shirt and began tracing circles over the taut muscles. She pushed him backwards onto the couch. "How are you?" Her voice was velvet as she quickly straddled him. When he didn't answer, she supplied one. "You look very very fine to me."
"Just peachy. Now can I leave?" he asked, trying to cover the easy pleasure in his voice.
"Let me think about that for a microt... no."
Elizabeth's voice stirred behind him, "Not until you do something for us..." she came up behind him, and began to wrap her arms around his shoulders. Not more than three microts later, she was passed out again on the couch.
One of the girls from the tables, Ruth, came up the steps, bowed deeply and quickly roused Elizabeth enough to move her to a back door, which led to bedrooms.
"Who the hell are you?" John stammered once again. "Are you... from... Earth?" he managed to choke out.
Nikolle smiled and moved closer to John, reveling in the feel of him pressed hard against her. She shifted slightly, eliciting a moan. "I can be from anywhere you want me to be," she whispered in his ear, a grin plastered on her face. She began to rub her lower body in a circular motion against the hardness and lifted his shirt even further, licking and nipping at his abs even more.
"Let me out of here. Let me off this planet." A whisper now, afraid anything louder wouldn't be much more than a moan.
"No," she stated firmly, a small laugh escaping from her lips, "you belong to us now." She stripped him of his duster and his shirt, tossing them both on the floor.
"Let me go." Panic.
"Alexa, Pippa, leave us." The guards bowed deeply and stepped off the stage slowly, letting the curtain fall as they went.
**--**-- TBC... **--**--