Dear readers - an aplolgy in advance if this story doesn't get published as speadily as my others. My Hubby was admitted to the hospital as an emergency and RL is a bit of a bitch at the moment! But I'll do my best.

Chapter 2

The Pits was only just beginning to come to life at 10:30 that evening. Starsky and Hutch had arrived there about 9:00 after a brief stop over at Starsky's Aunt Rosey's to bring her some flowers for her birthday. They walked into the dark interior of the nightspot and up to the bar to be greeted by the bar tender, one Huggy Bear Brown.

'Hey, what it is!' he greeted them laconically. 'You come to dig the chicks?' They appraised him slowly. Huggy was nothing if not flamboyant. Tonight he was dressed in pale lilac dungarees which fit tight over his skinny frame and accentuated his height. They were set off by a rose pink shirt, the top button undone and topped by a purple neckerchief. His head was topped by a pillbox hat in the same purple and set at a jaunty angle.

'Hey Hug, How's it hangin'? Starsky asked with a grin.

'Not bad. Things is beginning to hot up some' the bartender replied, snapping a brilliant, toothy smile.

They looked around the bar. In the time Huggy had been proprietor, he had turned it from a typical inner city, spittoon infested dive into a throbbing nightclub come bar and Thursday night always proved popular as the ladies were encouraged to pick the music, order the drinks and chat up the men. It was popular with the men too, as they got to relax and go with the flow, seeing the other side of what it was like to sit beside the dance floor and wait. Novel, but it worked and now the medium sized room was loud with music, voices and laughter as girls grouped themselves around tables or danced around their handbags on the dance floor.

Starsky leaned with his back to the bar, his elbows resting causally on the countertop and his white shirt opening to reveal an abundance of brown curly chest hair and a Chinese coin on a leather thong around his neck. It wasn't a dressed up nightclub, but he'd taken the trouble to look good and he'd brought out his tightest, palest jeans to accompany the shirt, his lean hips surrounded by a broad black leather belt. The ensemble set off his dark good looks and incredibly deep blue eyes perfectly.

And he was the perfect foil to Hutch. The blond had also dressed with the ladies in mind. His open mid blue shirt revealed a long neck surrounded by a fine gold chain supporting stars and crescent moon, and a smooth tanned chest. His black jeans accentuated his long muscled legs. Like his partner, his black leather belt only served to highlight his slim hips and the bulge beneath. Neither man was overtly aware of their sexuality, but both exuded an animal charm which most women found irresistible. While Hutch was the gentle, cerebral and smooth charmer, Starsky had a feral, animal and somewhat dangerous presence. Between them, they knocked women for a six.

Deciding the night was still young, they chose a table midway between the door and the dance floor, where they could see any potential talent as they came in. There were more women than men in the bar at that time of night and for a while, the two men were happy just to relax, soak up the ambience and drink their beers.

'Ya know. I was thinkin' Starsky started, his chin propped on his hand as he surveyed the room.

'Don't bust a gut there Gordo' Hutch grinned back, prepared for another great Starskyism to hit him between the eyes.

The brunet glared. 'Here am I, about to get into a deep philosophical discussion and you reduce it to "don't bust a gut!" I was about to say, did you ever wonder whether the rest of the world exists when you close your eyes or leave a room?'

Hutch rolled his crystal blues. 'No Starsk. Never'.

'Well think about it. Once the door to the bar closes, does the alleyway still exist or does it disappear coz no-ones looking at it?'

The blond ran a tired hand over his eyes. 'Only you could think that! We're surrounded by beautiful girls. We got cold beer and a night off, and you start talking Existentialism'.

The brunet looked aggrieved. 'No I don't! I was just wondering if….' He gave it up as another bevy of beauties walked into the bar, eyed the two men up and walked past. 'Ok, got it. Just concentrate on the girls huh?' he said happily.

It wasn't too long before one of the long haired, hot panted blondes who'd been sat closest to the bar got up and shyly made her way over to the couple. She smiled at them and they straightened, giving her their most winning smiles in return.

'Hey handsome, want to dance?' she asked Hutch in a low, sultry voice.

The flaxen haired man pushed himself away from the table and as he was lead away like a meek little lamb, he looked over his shoulder and winked at his partner, mouthing 'some of us just got it' before he turned his full attention to his new lady friend and disappeared amongst the seething bodies on the dance floor.

Marvin, the DJ each Thursday took his job seriously and with a combination of the BeeGees, the Stylistics and Marvin Gaye, the place was heaving and the dancers were literally rubbing cheek to cheek.

Starsky looked around him appreciatively, glad his partner was having a good time, but wondering if he should break the "Ladies Night" rules and actually ask one of the hot chicks to dance. He got up from their table and walked back to the bar, skipping and wiggling his hips in time to the music.He reached for his glass, taking a long appreciative pull at his beer, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around, his eyes met the most beautiful soft moss green ones he'd ever encountered.

The girl leaned her body into him, her breast pushing against his arm. 'Want to dance?' she whispered in his ear.

The centre of his body jolted to attention. Did he want to dance? Was the Pope Catholic? Can a fish swim? He gazed at her, wondering whether he was dreaming.

She was almost as tall as he was, which was unusual. He generally had to look down at women from his almost 6 foot height. But she was only a few inches shorter than he. Her beautiful eyes shone out of an equally beautiful face. Not an obvious, painted beauty. But the sort of attractiveness that comes from a good person, the goodness seeming to shine through. And when she smiled, that face lit up the world, and Starsky's knees buckled. She flicked the long, thick curtain of brunette hair over her shoulder and it danced in a cascade down her back, ending way past her waist in a thick, blunt cut.

Starsky cleared his throat nervously. 'Dance? erm….yeah, sure'.

She took him by the hand and led him onto the dance floor just as the music changed from Hot Chocolate's "Sexy Thing" to Tavares, "Heaven Must be Missing an Angel". As the slower music started, the brunet pulled the woman to him gently and started to sway her to the beat. She relaxed against him, closing her eyes and remembering Traff, her lover, and his last words to her

"Bria, be careful honey. I don't want to have to ask you to do this, but I think you're my only hope of getting out of here in one piece and – God this sounds so fuckin' corny – saving the country. You've got to get a message to Starsky. If he asks for any proof that you know me, tell him I always call him Curly and we enjoyed Nah Am too much. Him and his partner are the only ones I can trust. I know that you'll be able to find them at a bar called the Pits...he goes there every Thursday night' he chuckled 'Thursday night is lady's night. You won't be able to miss him. He's got dark curly hair, like mine, same height too. But he has blue eyes, the bluest you'll ever see. And he'll be the best dancer there. Honey you have to stay close to him, dance with him. Keep his attention and get him to a quiet place. Give him this chip, it has all the information on it that the NCS needs. Remember, he likes the ladies so…erm…well there's no easy way to say it. If you need to keep his attention then a little seduction wouldn't go amiss. But for gods sake, Bria, be careful in case you're being watched….they have eyes everywhere'.

The music continued to play and for a few moments. Bria could relax and enjoy the feeling of strong arms around her. She'd never thought she'd meet anyone as handsome as her man, but this Dave Starsky came a damned hot second. As she snuggled against his shoulder she could almost believe for a warm moment that this was her Traff, holding her close and swaying her to the music.

Her journey from the edge of Death Valley, where Traff's camp had been and into Bay City had been fraught with nervous tension. She knew that the group Traff was undercover with were vicious professionals, with the knowledge and technology to build one of the biggest nuclear bombs America had ever seen. The NCS had approached the 8th Battalion to ask for Traff's help because of his expertise in bomb disposal. The daredevil soldier had leapt at the chance to get involved, but had little true idea of just what he'd let himself in for. He'd gone in as Matthew (Mat) Kemp, an arms dealer on the international market and a know dealer in plutonium, and the group, who called themselves simply "Omega" had very soon learned that he had sufficient knowledge to make them or break them. Realising it was prudent to keep that sort of man close, they very soon voted him to be their leader, but in the weeks since, he'd struggled to maintain supremacy. Omega members were paranoid in the extreme and trusted no-one, even their own members.

The music was coming to an end, and Bria shook herself out of her reverie. She had a job to do, and she needed to do it now, especially if she wanted to see her lover alive again. Starsky was starting to let her go, albeit a little reluctantly and she stayed close to him, pushing the centre of her body against his and feeling the answering bulge. Well, she'd certainly got his attention. She lifted her head and whispered in his ear.

'Don't look around and don't answer me. I have a message from Traff'.

The brunet's body stiffened slightly, but he kept up the swaying as the next piece of music started to play.

"Boogie Nights" Too loud! He couldn't tell what she was saying.

Very slowly he started to dance her to the edge of the dance floor and she followed, still holding tightly to his arm. They reached the edge of the dance floor and he pulled her swiftly to him, kissing her and then whispering in her ear 'Follow me, slowly'.

From a distance, across the crowded room Hutch looked up from his dance partner and smiled. Starsk had done it again. Pulled just about the most ravishing woman in the room. He looked back at the blond by his side. OK. Well, he'd managed a close second! He went back to his dancing as his own woman nuzzled against his ear.

From the other side of the room, by the door, two more sets of eyes also watched Bria and the man she was with. To a casual observer, they were merely watching the tight jeans, the plunging neckline and the cascade of hair. It wasn't till one of them mumbled into a microphone on his lapel that anyone would have thought they weren't revellers come to enjoy the ambience of the place.

----------to be continued--------------