GENERAL COPYRIGHT/DISCLAIMER:

Xena: Warrior Princess, Gabrielle, Argo and all other characters who have appeared in the syndicated series Xena: Warrior Princess, together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. No copyright infringement was intended in the writing of this fan fiction. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author. This story cannot be sold or used for profit in any way. Copies of this story may be made for private use only and must include all disclaimers and copyright notices.

LOVE/SEX WARNING/DISCLAIMER:

This story depicts a love/sexual relationship between two consenting adult women. If you are under 18 years of age or if this type of story is illegal in the state or country in which you live, please do not read it. If depictions of this nature disturb you, you may wish to read something other than this story.

Mel and Janice by mhutch0461

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

"Who's there?"

CLICK . . . BANG!

Old springs and gears from the doors elegant handle fly and scatter to the floor. Heavy boots kick the door open.

SWISH, CRACK!

Not a rope, but a whip grabs hold of the foyer's chandelier from overhead and pulls taunt. The heiress stands back in shock and awe, watching a stout figure swing off the chandelier to land right in front of her. Landed in a spring, knees bent, a dirty-blonde mystery stands its full height with a fedora hiding its face till the figure raises its gaze slowly. Dark smoke pulls a three second veil over the Southerner's eyes, but when she draws the cherry again, reveled is the woman so intimidating and exciting she sends chills all over Mel's body. The mere thought of her the prerequisite, but now in her presence…

"Hey, darl'n"

"Hi"

Janice puts out her Cuban on the leather of her belt and tosses the withered end mindlessly, never taking her eyes off her, showing nothing but determination. She rolls her shoulders to let her jacket fall off the silk shirt underneath, hiding well the pleasures that lie even further. The fedora follows the cigar, tossed across the living room of Mel's mansion and skillfully hung on a rack. The archeologist closes the distance between them, a little too quickly for Mrs. Pappas' tastes, leaving her to clumsily back into the velvet love-seat behind her. Sitting before the predator in Janice's eyes, excitement swells within her, overflows, heating her whole body, hairs raised on end. The blonde leans over her, wraps an arm around her waist so she can't back away, making the Southerner bend in her arms as Janice sweetly caresses her dark hair, pulling it from its casual bun to let it fall and caress her in return.

"Melinda…Melinda…Melinda…Hey, Mel, wake up!"

"Ahhh!"

"Mel, shut up! You want to have all those men rushing in here? You'd think I'd killed ya'."

"Well, I'm sorry Janice . . . I was a little startled by the mere inches you left for breath between us!"

"Whoa, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bunk."

The Southerner draws her blanket over her PJs as if she were hiding her shame, "Sorry, I'm just . . . a little frustrated."

"I know. We should have found something by know. It's been nearly a month! And quit apologizing."

"Sorr . . ."

"NO! If I hear the S word one more time you're going to wish you was sorry." Janice hands Mel her glasses and gives her a condoling look, telling her don't sweat it too much, get dressed, and meet me outside.

Sun blazing down on the workers backs, progress for the sake of progress had been forgotten, and a reinforced belief that the coin received would make up for three times the torture, takes its place . . . 'till the archeologist shows up.

SWISH, CRACK!

Cracking the whip came with a mutual understanding, one where all gave her the upmost respect simply because she was able to work with them and took that extra time to earn trust than the usual fear and totalitarian structure past employers always used to get them to work faster . . . besides, they all know she just really loves the crisp sound of a leather whip. For her they'd simply do and not give it a second thought.

Mel loves this simple unspoken fact. With this extended trip to the supposed location of the legendary Xena scrolls, the Southerner has been able to find those hidden soft spots to Janice's hard exterior, a feat that none other before her had ever accomplished . . . she hopes. She admires her more than all of them combined, because out of all the accomplished women in the world, Janice is the example of something completely new and highly unimaginable. She was able to skill herself outside the tradition of every southern woman she'd known:Janice is able to defend herself, gun slinging perfected more than any man, and a mean right hook to boot. She can walk into any situation and steal the attention, and most times the authority. And the one element she loves most of all, and envies all the more . . . she's able to dress like a man; comfortably, dominatingly, in a way that allows her be the natural beauty she is and smoke a Cuban simultaneously.

"Mel? You ok? You've been staring at me for the past fifteen minutes. The heat getting too you already?"

"What? Oh! No, no . . . I'm quite alright, but . . . perhaps I'll just go get something to drink."

"Great! Bring me back a Bourbon, would ya'?"

"Janice, it's not even mid-noon!"

"I know, and it's already so hot it's ridiculous."

"You know very well that's not what I meant. What in God's great name am I gonna do with you?"

"Nothing good, I hope." Mel flushes a deep crimson, much to her discomfort, and pleasure, making the swirl of opposing emotions a big pain in the rear, but, as Janice knows, it's the only way to shut her up.

"Hurry back . . . and no ice . . . dilutes the taste."

"You're going to have ta' put me on ice by the time I get out of here."

"What did you say?"

"N-nothing!"