Disclaimer: I don't own any Guiding light personalities. I won't be making a profit. P&G, Telenex, and CBS own them. I just had a hell of a time borrowing them for bit.

Summery: Just some good, not so clean fun.

Kentucky Blue. That's the name of this dive I'm walking into. The name is sprawled out in big yellow letters across the door. A mixture of musty beer and smoke hits me all at once. I've worked in bars before, but this isn't my kind at all. I still walk in and sit down on one of the stools at the far right end of the bar. "I.D. Hun," the bartender says in a slightly condescending tone. He looks at my driver's license and then at me. I don't belong here and he can see it all over me. "Here you go. What can I get you?" I order a glass of Chardonnay and he chuckles. "Can't say I get a request for that very often," he smirks. I'm a bit annoyed but giggle and pretend to find his comment funny.

I take a deep breath. And toss a five dollar bill on the bar, indicating that he can keep whatever change that's coming back to me. There's only one other woman in here and I can tell that she doesn't want to be. Her husband or boyfriend, whoever the hell he is to her, dragged her out tonight and doesn't take his hand off of the blonde's leg as they drink beer at their table. When I finish my wine a man that has been sitting on the other end of the bar comes and sits beside me. His side burns are graying and the rest of his cinnamon colored hair is stringy and goes to his shoulders. "Another one on me?" he asks as he places his hand on my bare shoulder and rubs my olive skin.

I know where this is going so I smile my sweetest smile and say, "No, but thanks. I think I'll just have some water now." I look over to the bartender as I'm saying it.

"Okay. I'm Tim," the man says. "What are you doing here all alone sweetheart? It's not often a woman comes in here all by herself." He tries not to stare at my chest and the way the blue halter dress I'm wearing is hugging it. He fails at his attempt. My strategically placed heart shaped necklace may have something to do with that.

"Just wanted a drink. Saw this place and figured 'why not'?" I reply and thank the bartender for the glass of water he has placed in front of me.

"Well I think you're a very pretty woman," he says.

I know what he's doing. I get this all the time, and I have learned the difference between the genuine complements and the, 'She's going to be so elated at the notion that she just may be willing to come home with me,' lines. I'm normally a quiet girl, but my self-of-steam isn't lacking, or at least not enough to fall for that load of shit. Men seem to think that they can get me into bed after a few nice words or something. Rather than act indignant I giggle and start to answer him, but then get distracted as she walks through the door.

I immediately want to run my hands through her soft brown hair. I love the way it lands on the end of her neck. She glances at me with those green eyes that I know can break your heart one minute and bring you overwhelming joy the next. If I look out of place, she certainly beats me out for that prize. She's wearing that white Chanel suit; the one with black trim and buttons. She has on a black pair of open toed Jimmy Choo's that reveal her purple polished toenails. Her freshly French manicured fingernails are clutching a white handbag with gold trim. I think its Chanel too.

I feel relieved as I watch her walk over to the seat on the other side of me. "Thanks honey. You're so sweet," I say to Tim with a cheesy smile on my face.

She orders a beer and hands her I.D. over to the bartender before he even asks for it. He looks at it for a while and then over at me. Finally he hands it back and gets her beer. I love the way that she can command a room in all her feminine glory and manage to still have this whole "Don't fuck with me" look in those emerald green eyes of hers. Surely that's the reason why none of the men staring at her have tried to talk to her yet. The man next to me takes a peek and no doubt comes to the conclusion that she is way out of his league, then continues to talk to me.

The guy reminds me of Frank. Not that they look alike or even have similar personalities, they just both have same pension for jumping the gun. He starts to say some bullshit about appreciating the female form, but I tune him out. It takes him all of ten minutes before he suggests that I come to his place for a "private" drink and puts his hand on my thigh for what seemed like the one hundredth time. She can't hold back any more.

She puts her hand on my back and whispers in my ear. "Okay baby, it's time." I can hear the jealousy building up inside of her and it makes me tremble a little. She knows that I wouldn't fuck this man, but the fact that he thinks I will, pisses her off and turns her on at the same time.

"She's beautiful isn't she?" She looks at the man as if she could slit his throat right here. He looks shocked and doesn't know exactly how to react.

"Very," he replies. The bartender snickers a bit, as he begins to understand what's going on.

"I thought so the first day I met her. I wanted her to come and have a 'private' drink with me too." Her possessive streak is beginning to shine through.

"This is Tim." I interject.

There's some depressing country song blaring in the background now. "Well Tim, I guess I can't blame you for trying," She continues. Most of the people in the bar are looking at us but only the few near by can hear what's going on. "You weren't thinking about going home with him, were you baby?" She asks with a smirk on her face that I'm sure just sent his level of fear up a little.

"You know you're the only one I want," I say in my best submissive voice. She knows I'm acting the part, but she loves to hear it anyway.

"Now didn't I tell you about men in bars? They just want to get between your thighs." Her voice is domineering. She continues to talk without allowing me to answer. "All he wants to do is use you."

"I know. I'm glad that I have you to take care of me," I say this looking directly at the man still sitting next to me. He's still frozen in disbelief.

"I'm a selfish bitch," she says proudly, "I don't share this with anyone." I'm sure she wishes that were true. She puts her left hand between my legs and grabs my hair, pushing my face close to hers with the other. She kisses me softly on the lips. The throbbing wetness between my legs is threatening my ability to maintain my resolve.

"She didn't say she was like that," the man finally speaks up interrupting our kiss, "If I knew I wouldn't have…."

She cuts him off with her giggling. "Well I'm going to have to give her a good talking to about that. Punishments will have to be given," she says in a slightly sadistic fashion, making me want her to push me onto the pool table and have her way with me right now. "Sometimes my lady wonders off and I have to come find her and bring her back home. I can't have strange men taking advantage of her. Now tell the gentleman that you're sorry to have wasted his time." I do as I'm told and begin to squirm in my seat. She can see that I'm antsy and it tickles her.

"Hold on baby, I'll make you feel, really good real soon." She smiles with a smug look on her face and rubs the small of my back. The man looks at the two of us with a bright red face. I know that in this moment he's imagining a threesome between us. The poor bastard is going to have to go jack off pretty soon because he is entirely too excited at the sight of us, but he won't get the chance to play. "It was nice meeting you Tim," she says in that cocky tone of hers. She reaches up and grips a clump of my hair again. "It's time for us to be getting home now." We walk out of the bar together with my hair still gripped in her fist. When the door closes behind us she lets go and smiles."That was fun."

"That bar was so shady."

"I loved it, the seedier the better. Really though, Kentucky Blue. I wonder who came up with that little gem. This is Utah for crying out loud."

"As fun as it is, sometimes I worry that we're just asking for some real trouble."

"Aww, baby you know I won't let anything happen to you."

"Sure I do," I say with a wide dimpled grin across my cheeks. "Back to the hotel room?"

"As fast as I can make it there," she laughs while slipping her right hand back between my legs and her left firmly gripping the wheel.

"I tried to hold out a little longer, but the guy kept putting his hands all over you," She says annoyed.

"Not all over me, just on my thigh." I say trying to bring her back to the laughter of it all.

"Well, it was your upper thigh and he did it over and over."

"That was the point, wasn't it?" If it's really going to upset you then we shouldn't do stuff like that."

"True," she smirked. "Did you see his face? That idiot actually thought he had a chance with you," she chuckles. "I guess now he knows better."

Soon we make it to the Wilson Hotel. She parks in the parking garage to avoid having to go through the lobby and we head for the elevators. The elevator we catch is empty. "I love these business trips," she says as she pushes the eighth floor button. "You're all mine." I smile; however, I keep quiet as I grab for her hand as the doors shut. Our room is right across from the elevator. She slides the key card in the door and steps aside to let me in.

I sit on the bed for a few moments looking at the carpet. "What did you say?" I barely break a whisper.

"I didn't say anything," she looks down at me confused.

"On the elevator," I speak a little louder. She knows I want to hear her say it again. I always do.

"You're all mine," she says dissipating the lingering agony. Then sits down next to me to take off her heals.

"Love the toenails by the way."

"I thought you might like them. I just wanted to show you that my mind was on you the whole time." It's my favorite color and she kind of adopted it to be our color.

"Well, I knew that. I think I did anyway."

"Good, I don't want you to doubt me. Not when it comes to that."

"I try not to. It's just that sometimes…."

She cuts me off, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I have to go to the bathroom."

I can tell that I've pissed her off. She always makes an excuse to get away from me for a few minutes when she's angry. The bathroom is her method of escape about eighty-five percent of the time. I know not to bother her. It would just make it worse. So I figure I should make myself comfortable and wait for the impending argument to ensue. I change into my oversized night shirt with little red kisses all over it and lotion my body, and then I go to the vanity and brush my teeth. My usual bed time routine is in place. She still hasn't come out. She must be more upset than I realized. Just as I reach to pull back the bedspread I hear the bathroom door open. She's only wearing a pair of purple laced panties.

"When I say that I'm thinking about you, I mean it; every time."

I want to apologize but I can't seem to make myself say the words. She walks over to me as I sit on the bed and stands over me. I manage to start pushing the words out. "I'm sor…" She interrupts me for the second time, only this time she bends down and kisses me hard on the mouth pushing my head to hers with her palm, her tongue caressing mine. I gasp as we part. She stands back up and I know what she wants.

I inch my way to the middle of the king sized bed looking up at her. She looks at me for what seems like an eon. I'm trembling and she can tell. She can always tell. I'm always nervous to begin with. She climbs next to me and looks into my eyes. Hers are all glossy and I can tell she's been crying. I go to stroke her cheek, but she grabs my hand before I get the chance and kisses my palm.

"Open your legs," she commands softly. I submit as I usually do. "You know what to do with the panties." I take off the black cotton panties and toss them on the floor. She rests her body between my legs and simply lets her warm breath tease me. It takes almost everything in me not to beg her to stop punishing me. She finally slips two fingers inside of me. I clinch at her touch and then my body relaxes. I find my hips moving up a down to join her fingers as I let little noises escape my lips. Her thumb begins to caress my clit and there is nothing I want more at this moment. Suddenly she retreats. I'm on the verge of tears. She lifts up my night shirt revealing my breasts. She stairs into my eyes again and without braking contact, climbs up and straddles me.

"Please," I whimper. She doesn't say a word. She nips at my erect nipple and all I can do is close my eyes and wince at the good pain of the bite as well as the bad pain of being denied what I need. She rolls back beside me and places her hand between my legs again. She rubs me gently and barely grazes my clit. "Please."

"Are you convinced," She asks this as if she's afraid that my answer will be one that she doesn't want to hear ?

"Of what?"

"Are you convinced that you're mine?" Now she sounds a little more urgent.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Say it then. Tell me that you're mine."

"I'm always yours," I say as the tears pore from my eyes, "Always." He thinks I'm his but I could never truly be.

"Don't ever doubt it," She demands with hurt still painted across her face.

"I don't….I…I won't," and for the first time, I truly mean it.

The wetness of her tongue meets with my swollen clit once more, and with that, heat flushes all over my body. As I lay here, trying to recompose myself, she places her hand on that sweet spot she just sent surges through.

"Again," she asks looking up at me?

"I think I should remind you why you want me so much," I say with a giggle.

"I already know why I want you, and believe me when I say that I plan to have you demonstrate just how I know soon enough," she states with a wicked grin across her face.

"I won't disappoint," I say.

"You never do."

"I'm glad to hear that," I'm beaming.

"Natalia."

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I know that now. I love you too. I love you the way they love in cheesy love songs."

"I can live with that. Just don't start singing them," she laughs.

"I can't promise anything about that."

"Well, I guess I love you enough to be able to forgive you if you do."

"Now, that's the kind of love I've always wanted."

"It's yours," she grins.

"Get up here," I say sternly.

"Yes ma'am. I love it when you flip the script and get all dominate alpha on me," she says seductively with a raised eyebrow.

"I'll have to make a mental note of that," I chime. My smile fades. "I don't want to go home in the morning," I say. "Going back to the real world, to Springfield, to Frank; I think it might just kill me."

"We have responsibilities there. We have our kids to think about," she says, brushing her hand down my arm. "You have a husband to get back to."

"I know." I wish she wouldn't remind me. I know I brought it on myself. I married him hoping that I could get rid of these feeling I have for her. In the end it just made them stronger. I'm stuck in limbo. When we're away together I get to be someone else. When I'm at the farm house, which no longer feels like a home, I'm the good Catholic wife and mother who bakes and goes to mass. I have dinner on the table when my husband gets home and I succumb to him when he asks. A fact that I know kills her inside. But she says she'd rather have me this way than not at all. So our love is reduced to these business trips and these little games. Games that I'm sure she likes because she gets to tell all the men what she wants to say to Frank. It isn't fair to either of them, what I'm doing, but I can't give her up, I won't. And I don't know how to leave that man that everyone is so convinced is good. Sometimes I think he always knew my heart wasn't in it. We battled over whether or not I was going to keep working for her. Thankfully he gave in, however reluctantly.

"We still have tonight," Olivia says lying next to me, gazing into my eyes. I can finally say that it isn't just a game. As crazy as we get, and as far as we take it, this is real.