Disclaimer: I don't own Yugioh. I don't even own a car.

Also, apologies. Kaiba is OOC. I had hoped he would mellow a bit as he aged, but according to the last Yugioh GX ep I saw, he hasn't. Tough, I already started this. He's a little mellower. Let me know if it gets out of hand, though.

And there are a LOT of other characters. I'll try to list them so we don't all get confused.

Summary: Nearly 10 years after high school, Anzu is reuniting with the gang at a tournament in San Francisco. But her ex is dragging around a supermodel girlfriend, while she's struggling to take her company public. Just what does KaibaCorp want with Acsension? Kaiba/Anzu, with bits of the rest of the gang.

Warning - Adult themes, slightly explicit content (I'm expurgating like crazy to make it work), some strong language.

Chapter 1 - Lingerie Trouble

OC: Charlotte - Honda's girlfriend
Richard - Anzu's business partner

Anzu slammed her suitcase down on the bed. Damn him! That Honda. She stalked around the room, tears streaking her eyes. She thought she was over him. They were never really right together, but breaking up had been heart wrenching. And coming here, finding him with that, that BIMBO! She slammed her laptop down on the desk. Of course, as a hot shot biker, he needed to have a hot shot girlfriend. He told her this, encouraged her to play the part. It would help his 'street cred'. Whatever. Slam. Slam. Slam. Of course, this girl was tall and exotic, with a skimpy outfit and a body that just cried out "Look out for curves!" Anzu tried to calm down. Her cell phone beeped on the bed. "Mazaki." "Did you arrive okay? Everything good? Eh? Okay, now about those papers..." Richard blathered on and on. Anzu listened carefully, as she always did. It wasn't just her ass on the line now - she had founded this company and had brought quite a few people along for the ride. They needed her to be in control. Slipping off her skirt with one hand, she nodded, made notes and promised her assistant she would fax, sign or otherwise do whatever was required. "I understand this is supposed to be a vacation for you, Anzu," Richard finished, "but there are some signs our stock offering isn't going to proceed without some scuffles." "I know, Richard, I promise I won't abandon you." Richard grinned, "I know you won't, Anzu, but try to get some fun time in, too. Enjoy your mini-reunion."

Tossing the phone on the bed again, Anzu finished undressing and slipped into her shower. I will not think about him, she repeated her mantra for the week. The water sluiced off her body as she tried to rub off all thoughts of him. She had it bad just after high school. He was so cool, with his bike and his tight jeans. Yugi, poor little Yugi, just couldn't drag himself away from his duel monsters long enough to realize she was ready for something more. Shrugging, she stepped out, toweling off. That didn't bother her. Honda ditching her after two years because she wasn't 'hot' enough, 'sexy' enough - that hurt. Blowing off her dreams of dance school to follow him around - that hurt. She sat down to dry her hair. It was long now, curly, and dyed a muted red-brown. She did it for Honda, but when he left, she decided she liked it enough to avoid the post-breakup hair massacre. Shrugging again, she tossed the towel and stepped into her bodysuit.

Lingerie was Anzu's passion. She may wear boring business suits day in and day out, but underneath she dressed like a French courtesan. Today she would wear her favorite, a caramel-colored mostly-sheer concoction of net with mocha trim. Like all her bodysuits, it was very thin and well tailored. It didn't show under her suits, yet offered the support she needed. Bouncing lightly, she giggled. She did need the support. She never grew an inch upwards, and she was slimmer than she had been in high school, but her chest, well, she wasn't huge, but she was full enough to need some support. Guiding the suit up over her shoulders, she sighed. The French were the masters of support. No ugly white bras for her, no sir. The suit was cut high over her hips, accenting their roundness. The cups were bare on top and almost completely sheer. Only the trim defined where her chest stopped and the suit began.

Groaning a little, she adjusted the crotch. Damn boobs, it seemed they had grown again. The material was pulling, stretching away from her waist instead of settling comfortably against it. Stepping into her tallest heels, the ones she called her house shoes, she surveyed herself in the large mirror by the hotel's wardrobe. Short, boring, average. Honda's words, but she had made them hers, too. Nothing like Charlotte. She mouthed the name. Charlotte. Harlot. Grinning wickedly, she strutted up to the mirror. "Hello," she said in a breathy whisper, "I'm Charlotte. Wanna fuck?" Honestly, who brings a biker babe to a children's game tournament? Stupid Honda. She groped around her back, trying to find the clasp that would close the band under her breasts.

It had been several years since she had seen anyone but Shizuka. Even Yugi was often away when she made one of her rare stops in Japan. One of the hazards of jet setting, she thought, no home, always away. Her employees were her friends now, slaving away, putting their trust in a girl just out of grad school. The trust panned out, though. Four years later, Ascension was a rising star in financial software, and she was the very foundation of Ascension. Of course, they weren't living high on the hog yet. Basing her company in Europe had been the right move. She didn't feel the need to cater to the Asian or American expectations of wealth. When a European client found out she took buses, rode coach, and booked cheap hotels when possible, he was pleased with her frugality. If she showed up to a function in the same suit she wore during the day, nobody batted an eye. She bought nice suits, good shoes, and didn't even own normal clothes anymore. Her French employees fussed over her dreadfully, though. They knew she had style but they despaired for her wardrobe. She dreamed in French often now, it was second nature to her.

Anzu was happy to be in San Francisco. It was a fun town. Not that she really had any real fun anymore, but she liked the idea of hordes of other people outside having fun. Shizuka had invited her here to witness Mokuba's first junior league North American game tournament. Apparently, Kaiba had given Mokuba free reign. She imagined he would be here, looking over the kid's shoulder, but according to Shizuka he promised he wouldn't take over. Anzu snorted. She didn't think Kaiba could do it. She kept tabs on all her old friends, but she heard about Kaiba most of all. Somehow, he and Shizuka had become friends. It was weird; no one could explain it. They weren't dating, Shizuka assured her. They were friends. They talked, they hung out together, and they met up in all kinds of exotic places. Shizuka's clothing line was taking off, too, and Kaiba had been very helpful to her, lining up models, underwriting photo shoots. It just didn't sound like the Kaiba she remembered. Laughing, she resumed struggling with the clasp.

She heard the door open and slam shut. Finally, Shizuka was here. They had decided to share a suite, not so much for expenses but to hang out together. Shizuka knew Anzu would be working quite a bit of the time. She wanted to make sure Anzu got out and had fun at least once a day. "Oi, come help me with this. My damn boobs have grown again, I can't close this thing." Anzu called from the door, stalking back into her room. She heard some rustling, walking around, more rustling. It sounded like Shizuka was leaving. "Hey, cupcake, give me a hand already! Get your head out of the clouds for once!" Anzu was breathing hard now. It felt like trying to wrestle an octopus. She was looking down, trying to close the top without her breasts popping over the top. She felt Shizuka walk over. Hands scrabbled at her hair, trying to push it aside. "Oh, sorry, let me get that." She pulled the hair up in one hand, trying not to breathe. Hands pulled the clasp shut and hooked it, then rested lightly on her waist. "At last," Anzu gasped. "Thanks so much. I never could have done it without you." "My pleasure," a deep voice rumbled somewhere above her ear.

---
Seto Kaiba wasn't displeased with the hotel. It was okay, but obviously geared to the middle class budgets of the parents involved. But he had ceded the penthouse to Mokuba and his crew, so here he was, walking along a silent hallway, trying to find his generic suite. 1682, 1683, 1684. His key said 1685. Ah, here, as he slid the key in. Nothing. Again. Nothing. If he hadn't been Kaiba he might have stomped his foot in annoyance. It's just a key, just go back down and get another one, the calm voice of reason said in his head. He glanced at the number again. The clerk had written 1684 first and then crossed it out. Maybe his room really was 1684? He tried the key there. The door whooshed open.

Kaiba stepped into the cream upon cream room. It was like any other hotel room, he thought. Except for the brown pumps in the corner. His sharp eyes swooped around the sitting room. And the small jacket across a chair. And the purse on the couch. Kaiba grumbled out loud. There wasn't anyone here to hear him, thankfully. He heard a voice from a bedroom. "Oi, come help me with this. My damn boobs have grown again, I can't close this thing." Crap. Someone WAS here. Having garment trouble. That involved boobs. Kaiba grinned, that was a funny word. Salaciously funny. He walked around the room again, looking for more clues. Peeking into the empty bedroom, he saw a dress form and a stack of fabric. Oh, this must be Shizuka's room, he realized. She did say a friend from France would be here. Kaiba started to walk out when the voice called again. "Hey, cupcake, give me a hand already! Get your head out of the clouds for once!" Definitely Shizuka's room, Kaiba grinned. He had told her the same thing. Not the cupcake part, though. Maybe Shizuka had a girlfriend? It wouldn't have been the first time Shizuka had forgotten to tell him something. The woman in the bedroom was cursing now. Startled, Kaiba walked into the bedroom. Well, she did ask for my help, he thought.

If he hadn't been so lost in thought he would have stopped dead at the door. As it was, once he caught sight of her, only the most extreme mental training allowed him to continue up behind her. She was short, slim, with the tiniest waist he had ever seen. Her hips were slight but round, and she was wearing the highest shoes he had ever seen outside of a strip club. They were black with silver tips and heels. Her hair was long and muddy red, curling around her back. Perm, he thought instantly. His long association with Shizuka had etched all kinds of feminine information in his brain. Lingerie, French. Heels, Italian. Hair, permed, colored. The woman skittered, wiggling side to side, trying to wrest her garment into submission. Kaiba felt a jolt. Um, Bottom, tight. On her left hip a tiny blue butterfly hovered. The woman turned sideways. Breasts, real. Wow.

Breathe, man, breathe. Don't look, don't think, just do whatever it is she needs and get the hell out of there before she sees you. Hopefully she'll need a full body massage, the naughty demon on his shoulder said. Kaiba stepped behind her, hoping she wouldn't see him in the mirror. Her eyes were down as she held her hair up for, he guessed, Shizuka. He saw the problem at once. The garment was indeed too small on top. Grasping the ends tightly he forced them together and hooked the ends. He tried to not look in the mirror, but he couldn't help it. The action had caused her breasts to push up and out, threatening to spill out of the cups. If you could call them that, Kaiba thought, because they were so sheer there almost wasn't any point. He noticed the fabric along her sides pulled up too tight, obscuring her waist and ruining the line. Unconsciously, he ran his hands down her sides, trying to smooth it. "At last," she gasped. "Thanks so much. I never could have done it without you." "My pleasure," Kaiba replied, which was the honest truth.

---
Anzu went still. There's a man behind me, her brain finally thought. Looking up, she could see him, towering over her shoulder, partially obscured by her body and hair. He was slender but not skinny. His dark navy suit was unpadded; those shoulders were his own. His dark hair was longish on top, falling over his face. He smiled, a slow smile that made her shiver. "Um, I'm sorry, I thought you were..." "Shizuka, yes, I figured that. She's still downstairs. I was given her key by mistake. I beg your pardon." He turned and left the room quickly. Long legs, she saw as he left. Long fingers. He was so elegant, so polite. So handsome. And he just saw her in French undies, strutting around like a whore. Anzu fell backwards on the bed. She wasn't completely mortified, strangely. His obvious admiration showed in the mirror. She felt, somehow, revived. If she could make a strange man's eyes gleam like that with just a look, she could do the same to Honda. As if she wanted to, she humphed.