Blair had worked all week after her finals were made up on setting up the apartment for Jo's return. She had framed Jo's posters of Bruce Springsteen and Joan Jett and hung them on the living room wall. She placed elegant throw pillows on the couch and placed coasters on the coffee table. She had bought dishes, flatware and pots and pans and arranged them all in the kitchen. She had stocked the refrigerator with beer, wine, salami and cheese. She had made the bed with tasteful Egyptian cotton sheets with a high thread count. The towels in the bathroom were equally soft. Everything was color matched. Her heart jumped when she heard the roar of Jo's motorcycle enter the driveway.
"Welcome home!" She threw open the door to greet her.
Jo removed her helmet slowly, crossed over to the dining room and placed it on the table.
"Long trip, Blair," she sighed. "Lots of traffic."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Blair kissed her cheek. "So, what do you think?"
"Looks great, Babe," Jo smiled at her as she checked the refrigerator for a beer. "I'm tired. Mind if I take a load off?"
"Not al all," Blair picked up her helmet and moved it to a stand next to the door.
"Hey," Jo looked at her quizzically. "What was that?"
"I set up this stand near the door for your helmet."
"You did?"
"Um, yeah. Is that okay?"
"Sure," Jo shrugged as she sunk into the couch with her beer and propped her boots up on the coffee table. She smiled up at Blair. "The fire's nice."
"Jo?"
"Yeah?"
"Could you take your feet off the table?"
"Aw, c'mon. I've been riding for three hours for what should be a one hour trip and I can't relax a little?"
Blair bit her lower lip. "I guess. I just don't like feet up on the coffee table. The couch reclines back, you know."
"I can't believe you're going to start ragging on me about little things like where I put my helmet and where I put my feet when we've only been living together for like five minutes!"
Blair looked crestfallen. "But, Jo, I had a gourmet meal delivered. It's in the oven. I bought an excellent bottle of wine. I thought our first night together in our new place would be something special."
"I gotta' get my gear," Jo rose abruptly as she exited the house.
Blair felt herself beginning to tear up. I'm not going to cry. Jo is just different than I am. I have to change my expectations if we're going to make this work.
Jo re-entered the apartment with a huge bouquet of red roses in one arm and a boxed dessert from a bakery in the other.
"I stopped on the way in and picked up a few things for our first night together," she grinned at Blair rakishly.
"Jo Polniaczek! I'm going to kill you!" Blair shouted.
"Aw, you didn't think I'd let our first night together in our new place be anything but special, did you?"
"You had me going," Blair admitted.
"It's payback for the time you acted like you didn't recognize me in the hospital."
"Good one, Jo," Blair shook her head in appreciation. "You got me!"
"I hope so," Jo laid the flowers and dessert on the table as she gathered Blair into her arms. "I love you, Blair."
"I love you, too, my precious barbarian."
"Barbarian, huh?" Jo kissed her sweetly.
"That's the best you can do?" Blair challenged as she moved in for a more engaged kiss.
"Oh, God, Babe," Jo sighed, "are you really hungry or could we just move on to the main after dinner course?"
"You want to break in the bedroom before the dining room?"
"I want to break in all the rooms… eventually," Jo eyed her. "But, I'm good with starting with the bedroom," she smiled playfully.
"Race you!" Blair bolted for the stairs.
Jo followed in hot pursuit.
The next few weeks were an adjustment period for the both of them. Although they did manage to break in every room in the house, including the kitchen counter and dining room table, they also experienced moments of irritation.
"Blair, how much crap can one person collect on a bathroom sink?" and "What's all this junk on the living room floor, Jo?" were common refrains. Jo was also irritated by Blair's lack of ability to open a milk carton on the right side. "It's clearly marked, Blair! What's so hard about that?"
They both enjoyed waking up together. After years of sleeping in the same room in separate beds, pretending like there was nothing between them, it was nice to be able to cuddle in the morning in total privacy. Jo would shower first to allow Blair more sleep. She knew her girlfriend greatly enjoyed sleeping in. What she didn't know, was that Blair had been using the time to run downstairs and prepare Jo's lunch.
Jo did most of the cooking, but only because she couldn't stand Blair's lack of culinary skills. To Blair, every home cooked meal had to have an exotic element, which usually had something to do with garlic and anchovies. She didn't let on to Blair that she didn't like her cooking. She just managed to do most of it herself to avoid hurting her feelings. Unfortunately, Blair had gotten into the habit of preparing a bagged lunch for Jo: cream cheese on seed bread with tuna mixed with way too much mayonnaise. There was also something crunchy, which Jo couldn't quite identify. It was disgusting. Jo took the lunch with her every morning, not wanting to rebuff such a sweet and loving gesture on Blair's part, but would deposit it in the nearest trashcan as soon as she was on campus. Couldn't she mix it up just once? Like peanut butter and jelly or something? Just once? Jo usually had a back-up meal of leftovers to tide her over.
Other than these few minor hitches, things were going rather smoothly until one fateful day in September… when Jo left the front door open.
"Oh my God!" Blair screamed and jumped behind her.
"What is it?" Jo stood in front of her protectively.
"There's a giant moth in here!" Blair hid behind her, holding onto her hips.
"A moth, Blair? Seriously?"
"I don't like them."
"Fine," Jo disengaged herself and rolled up a newspaper. She was about to swat it, when Blair called out again.
"Stop!"
"Look, Blair, either you want me to kill it, or you don't. Make up your mind!"
"Jo, look at its wings!"
Jo looked at its wings. "So?"
"You see the two spots?"
"Yeah," Jo drew out slowly.
"That's to scare off predators. Its wings mimic eyes to scare off predators."
"So?"
"So, if that's all it's got to defend itself, it would be wrong to just splat it across the wall!"
"I'm not following," Jo turned to her perplexed.
"Just because I don't like moths is not a good to reason to destroy it. It has its own beauty, I guess, fulfills its purpose. I would be a hypocrite to have you bash it for no good reason. It doesn't make sense. It's not right."
Jo thought this over. Blair was bashed for no good reason aside from the fact that someone didn't like her or what she represented. It didn't make sense. There was no good reason. She wondered if this had to do with what had happened to her.
"Is this about you getting bashed?" she asked directly.
"Don't be ridiculous!" Blair gave her an annoyed look. "I can defend myself. This poor creature cannot."
"So, what do you want me to do, Blair?"
"Catch it? Set it free outside?"
"I can do that," Jo nodded. She captured the moth in a water glass and released it.
There was a nip in the early autumn air as they bundled up outside on the deck and sipped hot chocolate.
"The moth thing was about you getting bashed," Jo observed.
"Maybe," Blair relented. "The trial is coming up."
"I know," Jo said calmly.
"The D.A. is still not sure if he wants me to testify."
"What's his problem?"
"He thinks he's got enough with Chris and Gary's testimony. He's worried I might become too emotional on the stand."
"What does your therapist think?"
"She just lets me talk. Like a mirror, kind of."
"Expensive mirror. Maybe I should get into that racket," Jo mused.
"It's not a racket, Jo. She's helping me sort out my feelings, showing me how I really feel. I actually like being in therapy. It's an interesting process. Plus, Carolyn is super cool."
"She is, huh?"
"Don't be jealous, Jo," she snuggled up to her. "She's helping me, is all."
"Well, if she's helping you, that's good enough for me."
Blair was silent for a moment. "I want to testify, Jo. It's important to me to face them in court."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm positive. I want them to have to look at me, see the person they hurt."
"Whatever you decide, I'll be right there with you."
As the time for the trial drew near, Blair became more and more agitated. Jo decided to invite Natalie, Tootie and Mrs. Garrett over for dinner to help distract her.
"Oh, I'll cook!" Blair was excited.
"Um… I can cook," Jo suggested. "I want you to relax."
"Cooking does relax me, Jo! I'll make pasta!"
"Pasta's good," Jo was hesitant. "What kind of pasta?"
"Big noodles with sauce and something special."
"Something special?"
"Like garlic, tuna and anchovies!"
Jo couldn't take it anymore. "Blair! There's more to cooking than garlic, anchovies, cream cheese and tuna!"
Blair was taken aback. "What are you saying, Jo? That you don't like my cooking?"
"If you can call it that," Jo mumbled under her breath as she shook her head.
"I heard that!" Blair was offended. "I make you sandwiches everyday. You love my sandwiches!"
"I hate your sandwiches. Blair. I only take them because I don't want to hurt your feelings!"
"Well, you're doing a great job of that!"
"Look, I'm sorry. Ya' just can't cook, Blair, and it's time you knew it."
"So everyday that I've been up early making you lunch, you've been, what? Throwing it out?"
"Blair… what is the crunch in those sandwiches?"
"Chopped parsnips… very healthy."
"Parsnips?" Jo threw her hand in front of her mouth and gagged. "You've been feeding me parsnips?"
"What's wrong with parsnips? They're like carrots only more exotic. Martha Stewart uses them!"
"Yeah, well, Martha Stewart knows how to cook!"
"Meaning I don't!"
"If you're so in love with Martha Stewart's cookbooks, why don't you try a recipe from one of them instead of improvising?"
"I want to be a creative cook, Jo! How can I do that if I only follow recipes?"
"Look, Blair, recipes are written down so folks can follow them. Cooking is as much a science as it is an art. Just try following a recipe for once, will you?"
"I am an artist!" Blair declared.
"Not in the kitchen," Jo retorted. "There are people who can improvise there and people who cannot. You just happen to fall into the latter category."
"Why are you being so insulting? I am a very creative cook!"
"Creative doesn't always mean good, Blair. I could shit on a canvas and call it art, but I don't! You put parsnips in my sandwiches, for crying out loud!"
"You're saying my cooking is shit?"
"I've had it with this!" Jo grabbed her helmet in exasperation. "I'm going to be late for class!"
Blair sat in the university quad eating a cream cheese with tuna and parsnips sandwich.
"She called me a bad cook, Chris," she lamented to her friend. "I make her a lunch everyday and she calls me a bad cook! She basically said my cooking was shit!"
"That's harsh, Blair."
"I am not a bad cook! I'm a creative cook! Taste this!" Blair handed her the other half of her sandwich.
Chris took a bite. "Blair?" she looked at her intently. "You're a bad cook."
"Really, Chris?" Blair eyed her quizzically.
"You're a little heavy on the mayo, Blair!"
"But that's how you mix tuna," Blair defended herself, "with mayo! I learned that from Mrs. Garrett back at Eastland."
"I'm pretty sure Edna didn't put this much mayonnaise into her tuna salad," Chris observed.
"I think it tastes good. Maybe I'm taste bud challenged, or something."
"Or you just have exotic tastes in food, let's try to bright-side this!"
"Meanwhile, I don't like the word, shit, being hurled at me."
"I don't blame you there," Chris agreed. "Jo owes you an apology.
"Thanks, Chris."
Chris cleared her throat nervously. "Listen, Blair, I've been thinking. So long as you're out now, I mean living with Jo and everything, I was really hoping you'd join the Gay Student Union."
"Huh?"
"You know, become politically active!"
"Oh," Blair pondered this for a moment. "I would love to, really Chris. But the whole student activism thing is kind of Jo's. I don't want to take things from her or insinuate myself into things where she's established herself. I want to respect her space, her autonomy."
"But activism means that everyone is involved!" Chris pressed.
"Let me talk to Jo about it first."
"Jesus, Blair, you're whipped," Chris shook her head.
"First of all, that's kind of a sexist statement, isn't it? I mean if whipped is short for what I think it's short for."
"I didn't say pussy-whipped, Blair. But it may be sexist anyway, you're right," Chris nodded.
"Second of all, I'm not whipped! I'm just looking out for Jo's well being. I want her to have her own things and be happy. I don't want to step on her toes."
"I just want you to be politically active, Blair. I think you have a lot to offer."
"Okay," Blair rolled her eyes extravagantly. "Let me check with Jo."
"Whipped," Chris coughed into her fist.
"I heard that," Blair elbowed her as they exchanged a grin.
Jo couldn't focus on her classes all day. She sat on a rock overlooking a campus stream. How could she have been so cruel to Blair? The look of hurt in her eyes when she said she didn't like her horrible sandwiches stayed with her. I could've been kinder. Offered to help her learn to cook. Nah. That would have pissed Blair off even more. How was it that Blair could push all her buttons so effortlessly?
Jo threw a rock into the stream and sighed heavily. She thought of all the things she loved about Blair. She could be so damn kind. She made sure she got a scholarship so she could stay at Eastland. She helped finance the Bronx Outreach Center. She made her lunch everyday. Yet, she was feisty as hell. Blair had never backed down from her, not even back when they first met and Jo's anger could scare people. She gave as good as she got, Jo smiled to herself. Blair was brave and loyal. If she said she had your back, she had it all the way. She was fun and adventurous and beautiful. Jo loved being with her. She actually loved just the thought of being with her. She would catch herself daydreaming of Blair often. When they were together, she would look over at her in wonder sometimes. Every place they went seemed special because Blair was with her. What did it matter if she couldn't cook?
She turned and walked through the trees until she was back near the campus center. She stopped when she saw a golden vision. Blair was under the campus clock tower, her hair lit by the autumn sun as the breeze lifted it. She was chatting with two other students, her books pressed to her chest. She laughed; she rolled her eyes and shook her head charmingly as she smiled her movie star smile. God, she was beautiful. As she nodded goodbye to the two other students, Jo approached her.
The leaves had turned. The campus was filled with color. Blair loved this time of year. It was hard to choose between summer and autumn, but if she had to, she would probably choose autumn. There was a certain slant of light this time of year. The sun had moved to reflect the world in a different aspect. There was a nip of coolness in the air. Blair loved these things. She noticed a butterfly. How unusual: a butterfly… at this time of year?
She was suddenly jerked to the side as a bike whizzed by.
"Blair!" Jo grasped her shoulders. "Watch out!"
"Oh, Jo!" Blair was surprised.
"That bicycle almost ran you down! What were you thinking?"
"I was watching a butterfly."
"Jesus, Blair!"
"Are you all right?" the young man on the bicycle approached them. "I'm so sorry. I came around the clock tower too fast, didn't see you."
"I'm fine," Blair smiled charmingly.
"Maybe I could take you out for a bite, just to make sure," he returned her smile.
"She's fine," Jo moved close to Blair and gave him a threatening glare.
"Well, okay then," he looked at Jo nervously as he got back on his bike and rode away.
"I almost forgot," Blair turned away from Jo. "I'm not speaking to you!"
"Aw, geez, Blair," Jo complained plaintively. "I'm sorry."
"Really?" Blair turned to Jo with an enormous smile.
"Yeah," Jo looked down, ashamed. "I never should've said I hate your sandwiches."
"That's right!" Blair stated. "And...?"
"And…" as Jo opened her mouth to speak, the clock tower began to chime. She shoved her hands deep into her pockets as her backpack straps slid down her arms. Blair replaced Jo's backpack straps onto her shoulders. She left her hands hooked through the straps. She and Jo gazed at each other as they listened to the bells chime. Their heads moved slowly towards each other unconsciously… until their lips met. They kissed under the clock tower in the campus square as many colored leaves flew around their feet, oblivious to the world.
"I forgive you," Blair rested her forehead on Jo's.
"Really?" Jo looked into her eyes hopefully.
"Really," Blair looped her arm in Jo's and led her to a bench.
"So," Blair seemed positively giddy. "You kissed me in public!"
"No I didn't. You kissed me in public!"
"The world didn't end," Blair teased.
"I'm just not a big fan of public displays of affection, you know that. I'm not really comfortable with it. I don't like watching straight couples do it either."
"I know, Jo. I just can't help myself sometimes."
"So… I'm glad you're still not mad at me about the sandwich thing. I am sorry."
"Oh, let's not worry about that," Blair started fishing around in her oversized handbag. "I brought you another one!" She pulled out a sandwich.
"Blair!"
"Don't worry," Blair laughed, "it's peanut butter and jelly."
She handed it to Jo, who eyed it suspiciously before taking a bite. "It is PB&J! Thanks, Blair," she nudged her.
"You ran out without your lunch this morning. I was worried you might get hungry."
Jo shook her head and grinned. "I was hungry. You're so good to me, Blair. Especially after how I yelled at you this morning."
"Maybe I could use some cooking lessons," Blair conceded. "Will you teach me?"
"Sure," Jo continued as she ate her sandwich. "You wanted to do pasta? We could start with something simple, like spaghetti. We can do it tonight, if you like."
"That would be great, Jo," Blair laid her head on her shoulder.
"So do you always use marinara sauce from a jar, Jo?" Blair questioned as she eyed the ingredients for spaghetti.
"No. I can make fresh marinara sauce, but that's lesson two in Spaghetti 101. Tonight we're focusing on the meatballs, okay?"
"Um, okay," Blair shrugged pleasantly.
"You'll be happy to know that you get to put garlic into the meatballs!"
"I like garlic," Blair affirmed.
"I know," Jo grinned ironically as she gathered the ingredients for Blair. She instructed her on how much onion, garlic, spices and breadcrumbs to add to the ground beef. "We're going to use a couple eggs and parmesan as binders," Jo informed. "You have to mix it all together with your hands."
"What? Eew, Jo!"
"Hey! You want to learn to cook, you're going to have get your hands dirty!"
Blair made a face as she began mixing the ingredients. "This is disgusting!"
"This is cooking, Blair!" Jo smiled proudly. "Next we get to roll them up. That's really fun!"
"Oh joy," Blair gave her a queasy look. Jo instructed her on proper meatball rolling as they shared the task.
"I saw a butterfly today," Blair mentioned.
"I know, it almost got you creamed by a bike," Jo smirked.
"Jo, why do you think we like butterflies and not moths?"
"Speak for yourself, Blair. I like moths."
"No… seriously? When you see a moth flitting about, you hope it lands on you?"
"Well, I can't say that," Jo had to admit.
"But when you see a butterfly, don't you kind of hope it lands on you?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"So? What's the difference?"
"I dunno'," Jo pondered. "Because one is beautiful and the other just a dull brown thing flitting irritatingly around a light?"
"Moths are nocturnal, yet attracted to the light. Butterflies spend their lives in the sunshine."
"I feel an amazing insight is about to be imparted to me," Jo exhaled and smiled at her as she rolled another meatball.
"It's just that gay people are the same as straight, only viewed differently. Straights are invited to every party to bask in the sun. Gays seek the light the same way, but are relegated to the dark."
"Seriously, Blair? Antwoine and Viktor are beautiful butterflies out in the light of day."
"That's the thing… gay people are as beautiful as straights. Yet we're relegated to the shadows, seeking light where we can find it."
"Um… okay. But some moths are diurnal."
"And some butterflies are crepuscular, meaning they fly at dawn and dusk."
"Ah, shit, Blair," Jo complained. "Have you been researching again? Because I know that word crepuscular didn't just fly out of your ass like you knew it the whole time!"
Blair planted her tongue in the side of her mouth, pushing out her cheek. She rolled a meatball.
"You've been fixating on this metaphor since I released that moth last week, haven't you?" Jo asked.
"Maybe," Blair shrugged nonchalantly.
"Listen, Blair, just for the record: I think whether one is diurnal, nocturnal or crepuscular, doesn't matter. We all have to live and let live."
"But I think everyone should have a chance to be a butterfly!"
"Meaning straight… or beautiful?" Jo eyed her skeptically.
"Meaning beautiful, of course!" Blair replied offended.
"Yeah, well, some folks are just nocturnal, attracted to the night lights. It's just as valid and just as beautiful."
"And the crepuscular?" Blair lifted an eyebrow.
"They're on their own."
They both laughed until Blair mused a space.
"Um, Jo?"
"Um, what?"
"To make my moth/butterfly metaphor truly correct, we have to include the crepuscular. No one can be excluded or the life of the moth with wing eyes that we released is meaningless!"
"Okay, so I never thought I'd hear myself asking this," Jo sighed, "but why is the moth's life meaningless?"
"Because we only spared it for its external physical attributes, not it's nature. We just can't make those distinctions. The crepuscular have to be included, as well."
"If I agree to this, can the winged insect metaphor be over?"
Blair bit her lower lip. "I'm not sure, but I think so."
"In that case, I agree: the crepuscular are included in our circle of, um… I'm not sure what we're talking about anymore," Jo admitted.
"Inclusion," Blair reminded.
"Right!" Jo perked up. "I want everyone included: all insects, all humans, all weird-ass metaphors about winged insects and humans… we're all included!" She looked at Blair and smiled. "Good enough?"
"Speaking of inclusion," Blair worked a meatball over between her hands as she eyed Jo nervously. "Chris thinks I should join the Gay Student Union. I told her I'd have to check with you first."
"Why would you have to check with me? You don't need my permission."
"She thinks I have a lot to offer," Blair began another meatball.
"I agree with Chris, Blair. You do have a lot to offer!"
"So, you wouldn't think I was trying to horn in on your territory? I mean, we did discuss having our different things. I don't want to invade your space."
"The Gay Student Union is not my space, Blair. The more voices, the better. We need more people involved, not less."
"Okay. I wanted to make sure, is all. I wouldn't want you to think I was stalking you or anything."
"Blair, if you went out for field hockey or started showing up at my pick-up basketball games ready to play… I'd know you were stalking me."
"I don't think we have to worry about that. We both know I'm not into balls! I can barely stand rolling these meatballs!"
"Good to know," Jo laughed quietly. "You're doing a great job, by the way. So, is Chris asking you to join the Gay Student Union what promoted the conversation about giving meaning to the life of butterflies?"
"Giving the moth's life meaning, Jo. The butterfly already had purpose."
"No it didn't."
"Yes it did. Weren't you following?"
"I was trying to, Babe," Jo shook her head. "Well, hey! The meatballs are done," she announced. "Now we get to cook them!"
"Thank God," Blair made her way quickly to the sink to wash her hands.
Jo returned home from the library the next evening to find Blair sitting on the front deck, wrapped in a blanket, sipping a glass of wine and looking dejected.
"Hey, what's wrong?" she scooted in beside her.
"The D.A. called today," Blair pouted. "They've struck a plea agreement."
"What?"
"Yeah. I wanted them to have to go through a trial, but now they won't."
"What's the sentence?"
"Five years for the creep who hit me and two years with time served for the other two."
"Five years is a long time, Blair."
"He could've killed me. He should've gotten twenty-five!"
"Hey! I agree with you! Have you talked to your therapist about this?"
"Yes. I had a session today."
"What did she say?"
"She said I should submit a Victim's Impact Statement to the court if I want a harsher sentence. But… I don't know. After discussing it with her, I think I'll just leave it alone. I've spent enough time worrying about this. I don't want to give it any more energy. I just want it to go away."
"Are you sure?"
"A Victim's Impact Statement would have to include how what they did affected me: weeks of physical recovery, months of emotional recovery… I don't want to give those little shits the satisfaction. Fuck them!"
"There's that word again!"
"Appropriately used, I'm sure you'll agree."
"I can't argue with that. But, Blair, I don't think the perps get to read your Victim's Impact Statement."
"Perps?" Blair eyed her. "Is that another one of your police words?"
"I'm not going to be a cop, okay? You were right: why would I even go to college if I could've joined the force right out of Eastland? I just say that to irritate you."
"As I thought!" Blair glowered at her smugly.
"Don't start, Blair."
"Very well… but I'm still going to go for the sentencing. I want to smirk at them."
"Good for you, Blondie!"
Blair and Jo weren't the only ones at the sentencing. Mrs. Garrett, Natalie, Tootie, Chris, Gary, Antwoine, Victor, and her Mother and Father were all in court that day. To everyone's surprise, Boots St. Clair showed up, as well.
"Boots," Blair gave her hug, "I'm happy to see you! What made you decide to come?"
"I saw you in the hospital the day after, do you remember, Blair?"
"Yes, I remember."
"I simply could not believe your ghastly state! As a member of this community, it is my civic duty to watch these dogs brought to heel by the justice system!"
"Nice to know you care," Jo smirked.
"I do care, Jo," Boots didn't skip a beat. "That's why I'm here."
"Sit with us," Blair gave Jo a look as her girlfriend rolled her eyes.
Blair was taken aback when the culprits were marched into the courtroom. She hadn't remembered how young they were. The oldest, the one who had bashed her, was no more than twenty-one. The other two were younger than that. The two youngest shuffled in looking ashamed and scared. The oldest glared at her, still defiant, as he was led to the defense table. Blair twisted her lip into a snarl as she glared back. Jo gripped her hand tightly, not sure if it was to steady Blair, or to control her own emotions, which were about to boil over. The lawyers went through their motions. It was now the judge's turn to speak.
"I am appalled at this crime: it's brutality, it's senselessness. I have to fight every instinct I have as a father and a member of this community to accept this plea. If any of you," he looked directly at the defendants, "ever come before me again, do not expect such leniency. What you have done is mind-boggling in its viciousness. You attacked an innocent, defenseless young woman with a baseball bat and then proceeded to pummel her senseless. As if that weren't heinous enough, you then turned on her friends. I only hope that you take advantage of the time I'm about to sentence you to for self-reflection and self-improvement so that when you are released, you are no longer monsters in our midst, but truly reformed young men. Pray that you do not appear in my court again!"
He pronounced the agreed upon sentence. As they were being led out, the youngest one turned to Blair. He looked truly remorseful. "I'm sorry," he mouthed to her. Blair felt her eyes tear up as she squeezed Jo's hand. The door shut behind them and Blair felt herself exhale as a horrible chapter in her life closed with it.
"I like that judge!" David proclaimed loudly as the courtroom cleared. "I'm going to contribute heavily to his re-election campaign!"
"Judges are appointed in Peekskill, Daddy," Blair informed. "But, thanks anyway."
"Then I'll contribute to the campaign of whomever appointed him!"
"Quit trying to buy everyone," Monica rolled her eyes at David.
Antwoine slipped his arm into Blair's as they exited the courtroom.
"How you doing, baby girl?"
"I don't know, Antwoine. Did you see the look on that kid's face as they led him away? He looked so scared and truly remorseful."
"He may not have been the one who beat you, but he surely was a part of it. The sin of omission is a sin just the same!"
"I know," Blair leaned against him, "but, he mouthed, "I'm sorry" to me. I feel like I have to know his story. What if it was peer pressure? Two years in prison is a horrible way to begin one's adult life."
"It is at that," he agreed. "I have a feeling you're going to do something about this."
"I'm going to contact his lawyer. Maybe, I can visit him in prison."
"Don't be thinking you can save him," Antwoine cautioned.
"Someone's got to try," Blair responded.
"I won't discourage you, but please be keep your expectations low."
"I won't expect too much," Blair agreed. "But I have to try."
"Now see… this is why I came here."
"I thought you came to support me!"
"I came to make sure my patient was completely healed," he eyed her imperiously. "Because when my patients are healed, I start learning the most amazing life lessons from them."
"I'm pretty sure there's nothing I could teach you about life, Antwoine."
"You already have, Blair," he kissed her forehead.
As Blair's friends and family walked out into a brisk October afternoon, David spoke up again. "Well, if I can't buy a judge in this town, the least I can do is buy everyone who came out to support my daughter dinner at the best restaurant in town!"
"I'm down," Tootie smiled.
"Sounds perfect!" Natalie chimed in as she eyed Gary.
"Oh, how lovely," Mrs. Garrett smiled.
"There is restaurant in hick town?" Viktor asked dryly.
Antwoine elbowed him. "We'd be delighted!"
Boots St. Clair was already half way down the street.
"Hey, Boots," Jo called after her. "Where you going?"
She turned and looked back at Jo.
"Blair's Dad is taking us out to dinner," Jo continued.
"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose," Boot's demurred.
"Get over here," Jo demanded.
As Boots joined the others, Blair slipped her hand into Jo's. "I love you, Polniaczek," she smiled.
"Back at ya', Blondie," Jo smiled back.
So it was that probably the oddest collection of people in the history of Peekskill descended on the only French Restaurant in town for dinner.
David ordered the finest champagne in the house. He rose, lifted his glass, and proposed a toast when it arrived.
"Here's to my daughter's good friends. I want to thank you all for supporting her. Jo, there are no words to express my gratitude for what you've done for Blair. You know I think the world of you. My daughter couldn't have chosen better!"
"Thanks, David," Jo was truly touched.
"Here's to Jo!" Mrs. Garrett raised her glass.
"To Jo!" everyone drank.
"Edna, Natalie, Tootie," David continued, "Blair's longtime friends: you've always been there for her. Thank you!"
Everyone drank.
"Christina, Gary," David went on, "thank you for trying to defend my daughter and being there for her in the aftermath!"
They all drank again.
"Antwoine," David wasn't finished, "you're skill and devotion to my daughter, not only as a nurse, but as a friend, truly hastened her recovery!"
"To Antwoine!" Viktor held his glass aloft.
Everyone drank.
"Boots," David turned to her, "well, Boots…"
"This menu's all in French," Boots complained as she looked up at him.
"To French menu!" Viktor drank again.
"David," Monica tugged at his sleeve. "Enough toasts. Sit down before we're all drunk."
"I merely sought to express my gratitude," he said in an aside to his ex-wife as he sat down.
"I think they get the picture," Monica rolled her eyes at him.
"I can help you with menu choices, Boots," Mrs. Garrett offered. "I studied cooking in Paris," she added proudly.
"Can you order for me?" Jo looked at the menu in bewilderment.
"You can order for me, too," Tootie set the menu down.
"I'm comfortable with that," Gary agreed as he set his menu down, as well.
"I think that's an excellent idea!" David boomed out amiably. "Edna, you're our French cuisine expert! Would you mind ordering for all of us?"
"Oh!" Mrs. Garrett was unsure. "That's a big responsibility! I'm hardly an expert!"
"I repose complete trust in you, Edna," Monica assured.
"Well," Edna looked around the table, "if everyone's alright with that…"
They all tossed their menus on the table.
"Go for it, Mrs. G!" Natalie beamed at her.
Mrs. Garrett ordered an assortment of food so that those who were unused to French cooking could pick and choose. Jo liked two items in particular.
"What are these, Blair?" she whispered as she polished off another bit of something yummy.
"The first one is snails, the second: frogs legs!" Blair informed her.
"Jesus, Blair!" Jo gagged. "Why did you let me eat that?"
"You have to try new things, Jo. How else will you know if you like it?"
"Yeah, but Blair, why do the French have to cook such slimy, filthy, disgusting things?"
"Here, try these," Blair placed a couple of items on Jo's plate.
"What is this? Snakes and puppy dog tails?" Jo eyed her plate suspiciously.
"Beef and vegetables," Blair smiled. "Nothing too gross."
"It was good to get closure today," Gary spoke up between bites.
"That's right! They hit you, too, didn't they?" Natalie leaned in close to him.
"I wanted them to get more jail time," Chris shook her head.
"In Russia, we shoot them," Viktor offered.
"Really?" Tootie was wide eyed.
"Yes, of course," Viktor shrugged. "In Russia they shoot gays, as well."
"So," Antwoine observed, "there's that."
"You know, Viktor," David began, "I'm very interested in hearing about your exploits in the Red Army."
"KGB," Viktor informed disinterestedly. "Could kill man with paperclip."
"Oh," David was not quite sure how to respond.
"Don't let him fool you, Mr. Warner," Antwoine advised. "Victor's in the cosmetics business now."
"Oh really?" David looked interested. "A good line?"
"The best," Viktor affirmed.
"I'm always looking for a good investment," David said.
"Not this, Daddy," Blair cut him off. "Uh-uh."
"Well, if you're sure, Princess."
"I'm sure," Blair nodded her head vigorously.
"There is problem with FDA," Viktor agreed.
"Why would the FDA be looking into a cosmetics line?" David queried.
"Exactly," Blair shook her head.
"Hey, Blair," Jo nudged her. "There's this lady over there who's been staring at you."
"Where?" Blair whipped her head around the restaurant quickly.
"You don't have to be so interested," Jo teased. "Over in the corner, near the potted palm."
"Oh my God, Jo, that's Carolyn, my therapist!" Blair smiled and waved.
A very attractive woman, with dark hair and huge green eyes, made her way over to their table.
"I wouldn't usually do this as it is a slight breach of professional ethics," she smiled as she placed her hand on the back of Blair's chair, "but it seems ridiculous not to greet each other. Besides, I have to know: how did it go today?"
"Everyone," Blair introduced her, "this is my therapist, Carolyn!"
"Hello," Carolyn smiled pleasantly.
"Carolyn," Blair rose and took her hand excitedly, "this is Jo!"
"Pleased to meet you," Carolyn shook her hand.
"Likewise," Jo was standoffish.
"And these are my parents," Blair introduced Monica and David.
"I'm so happy to meet you," Monica enthused. "I know Blair loves her sessions with you!"
"I am grateful to you for helping my daughter," David smiled pleasantly.
"So?" Carolyn looked at Blair who still hadn't released her hand.
"Oh, um, the um hearing," Blair stuttered.
She's stuttering? Jo noticed.
"It was fine. Went as planned. I do think there was some closure there."
"And you're good?" Carolyn eyed her with concern.
"Yeah! I feel like I can move on now," Blair replied.
"That's all I wanted to hear," Carolyn stroked her hand before returning to her friends.
"What was that all about?" Jo demanded.
"What?" Blair gave her an innocent gaze as she sat back down.
"Oh, um, the um hearing…" Jo imitated her. "Since when do you stutter, Blair?"
"Not now, Jo," Blair gave her a look.
"Classic transference, if you ask me!" Jo pointed out.
"Transference?" Blair eyed her. "Who's been researching now?"
"What are you talking about, Blair?"
"Oh, I know you didn't just pull that word out of your ass!"
"Language, Blair!" Monica and Edna spoke at once.
"No, Mom, Mrs. G.! She accused me of researching just because I knew what crepuscular meant and now she pulls out a word like transference?"
"Crepuscular is moth that flies at twilight," Viktor informed.
Everyone stared at him.
"Wait a minute, Viktor," Antwoine laid his hand on his forearm. "You didn't know the difference between macaroni and Beefaroni, but you know what crepuscular means?"
"Is common English word, no?"
"No!" everyone yelled back at him.
Viktor shrugged. "Moth is very beautiful creature. Luna Moth is particularly beautiful. Light green color, flowing tail."
"But not as beautiful as butterflies," Gary interjected.
"Oh, I don't know," Mrs. Garrett mused. "I've always seen a great deal of beauty in moths."
"I like that they're mostly nocturnal. I love the nightlife!" Natalie winked at Gary.
"Yeah, but butterflies are so beautiful," Tootie piped up.
"Plus, they fly in the sun and pollinate," Chris added.
"Little known fact," Viktor popped a snail into his mouth. "Moth's pollinate, as well. Only do it at night."
"Not this again," Jo shook her head. "If you'll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.
"Oleander Hawk Moth is amazing," Viktor continued. "Natural camouflage!"
"Viktor?" Antwoine eyed him. "How do you know so much about moths?"
"KGB. We study creatures for military reasons."
"What possible military use could there be for a moth?" Mrs. Garrett questioned.
"If tell you, must to kill you," Viktor stated matter-of-factly.
Everyone rolled their eyes and returned to their meals.
Blair watched for Jo to return from the bathroom. She noticed that she cornered a waiter on her way back, talking to him intently.
"What was that all about?" she asked as Jo sat down.
"What?" Jo shrugged.
"Why were you talking to the waiter for so long?"
"I wasn't. Why? Jealous?"
"You're the jealous one, Jo: implying that I have a thing for Carolyn. Really? She's like super old… forty or something."
"You thought I had a thing for Julie," Jo pointed out. "Said she looked like an older version of you. Well?"
"Well what?"
"Carolyn looks like an older version of me! Don't even try to tell me you're not attracted to her."
"She is attractive," Blair glanced back over towards Carolyn's party. "And there is that transference thing, as you pointed out. And the older woman thing? Maybe she knows things we haven't thought of yet!"
"Blair!" Jo was upset.
"I'm kidding you, Jo," Blair laughed. "You're my only obsession."
Jo wasn't convinced.
"Blair," Monica called out, "I found this amazing painting in your studio! Very colorful, very Georgia O'Keeffe! I can't quite make out what it is, a little in the abstract, sort of like a flower opening, with shades of red and lavender!"
Oh God, Jo remembered. The pussy painting!
"But it's beautiful!" Monica continued to enthuse. "I would love to frame it and hang it in the penthouse!"
Blair looked at Jo. Jo looked at Blair.
"Um, that painting's not done yet, Mom. Just leave it in the studio for now."
"But, dear, it's lovely! Very evocative of nature in all its glory and power!"
"Not done, Mother!" Blair was assertive as she felt Jo's eyes burning a hole into her. "Just leave it, okay?"
"Oh well, then…" Monica sighed. "But when it's done, I want to add it to our household art collection. It's one of your best, I think."
David was engaged with Gary, asking him about police work as if Gary's Dad's job made him an expert. He suddenly turned to Jo and Blair.
"I would love to see your new place!" he smiled.
"Oh, girls," Monica nodded in agreement. "I would love that, too!"
"Uh, sure," Jo nodded. "Can you drop by on your way home tonight?"
"That works for me!" Monica said.
"I can do that," David agreed.
"Oh, by the way, David," Monica turned to him. "I have your aunt's broach in my car. You know… the one she's been asking you for?"
"Oh, yes, right," David sighed and shook his head. "She's obsessed with getting that broach back."
"Let's just go get it now while we're remembering," Monica suggested.
They walked outside together.
"Uh oh," Viktor looked over at Jo and Blair as Monica and David left. "Parents are coming over. Hope sex toys are picked up."
"Viktor!" Antwoine chastised him.
"Everyone know lesbians love sex toys, Antwoine. I am just saying, is all."
"What sex toys?" Jo looked questioningly at Blair.
"Why are you looking at me, Jo?"
"I don't know, maybe your older girlfriend introduced you to a few things!"
"Wait!" Natalie was baffled. "Blair has an older girlfriend?"
"No!" Blair shook her head. "Jo's just being a smart ass!"
"So… is that true?" Boots eyes grew wide. "About the sex toys? I've always wondered what lesbians do!"
"You've always wondered?" Jo smirked at her. "Something you're not telling us?"
"Of course not!" Boots acted insulted. "I was just wondering if you two used sex toys," Boots pointed at the both of them.
"Still seems like you're a little too interested, Boots," Jo challenged her.
"As most people, I am completely in the dark as to the ways of lesbians. So, do you use sex toys?"
"No!" Blair laughed it off.
"How do I know that?" Jo asked sarcastically. "Maybe you've been introduced to things that I don't know about yet!"
"I am so confused right now," Natalie shook her head.
Blair turned to Jo irritated. "I don't know anything about sex toys any more than you do, okay?"
"Oh dear," Mrs. Garrett blurted out nervously. "That reminds me of something. I've been carrying these around in my handbag since you two moved out. I've always been meaning to return them, but just keep forgetting." She held up a shiny pair of handcuffs. "I've simply got to remember to clean out my purse more often," she shook her head.
Blair snatched the cuffs and quickly handed them to Jo, giving her a look of consternation as she did so. "Why were these in Mrs. Garrett's purse?"
"Why are you looking at me?" Jo complained. "It's her purse!"
"They're certainly not mine!" Mrs. Garrett objected.
"They're yours, aren't they?" Blair glared at Jo.
"Yeah, but…"
"Wow!" Natalie was now fully engaged. "You were right, Boots!"
"Now hold on just a damn minute here," Jo looked flummoxed. "Yeah, they're mine, but they're not a sex toy."
"Then why do you have them, Jo?" Tootie inquired curiously.
"I got them to handcuff myself to Blair," she began to explain.
"That explains so much," Chris nodded.
"Not in that way!" Jo was adamant. "I wanted to make sure she would read my copy on the news for our television journalism class. You remember this, don't you Mrs. G.?"
"Um," Mrs. Garrett looked clouded.
"Sex toy," Viktor drained his wine glass. "As I thought."
"They are not a sex toy!" Jo bellowed as Blair's parents returned to the table.
"Oh my," Monica observed as she sat down casually. "You leave the table for a moment and the most interesting conversation breaks out."
"So, what are we talking about?" David sat down.
"Nothing!" Blair and Jo snapped at once.
"I'm sorry?" David raised his eyebrows.
"You know what?" Blair eyed the table incredulously. "I would just like it if even one time we could go out like normal people without handcuffs, gay bashing, or face-eating, toxic makeup being involved!"
"Not to mention catching my Dad with another woman," Natalie chimed in.
"I wasn't going to bring that up. Sorry, Nat."
"I'm sure we'd all like that, Dear" Monica shrugged nonchalantly. "But, with our set… what can one do?"
"I'm not sure I know what's going on here," David looked puzzled, "but I do think it's time for the check," he raised his hand for the waiter.
On the street outside the restaurant, Blair and Jo said their goodbyes to their friends. They drove ahead of Monica and David to their apartment in Blair's car.
"So," Blair asked, "you got the key to those handcuffs?"
"Probably," Jo reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a key ring that probably held every key she had ever owned except for her motorcycle key. She looked through the mass of jingling metal. "This might be it."
"Might be?" Blair questioned.
"Yeah. It looks like it, why?"
"Because I'm going to make you pay for tonight."
"Whoa, Blair! I've gotta' pay? You're the one who held hands with another woman! You're the one who left a painting of my private parts in your studio!" Jo cringed with disgust. "Jesus, Blair! Your Mom's seen my pussy!"
"Don't be ridiculous. It's an artistic rendering of your pussy."
"Worse than that… she thought it was beautiful! She loved it!"
"Why wouldn't she? I do," Blair shrugged.
"Because it's your Mother, Blair!" Jo was grossed out. "I don't think I'll ever have sex again!"
"Why? Thought you liked older women. Julie comes to mind."
Jo glared at her menacingly. "You're skatin' on thin ice, Blondie."
"What are you going to do about it?"
"Um, I dunno'," Jo sank back into the passenger seat.
Blair rolled her eyes at her. "The handcuffs, Jo? What you going to do about it?"
"Oh!" Jo finally caught her drift. "I'm gonna' make you pay!"
"How?"
"Um… what?"
"How are you going to make me pay? Are you going to punish me or what?"
"Okay, Blair, you're obviously way ahead of me on this one. How about we just see how it unfolds."
"Mmm… folds," Blair licked her lips. "That reminds me of my painting."
"Deviant," Jo grinned at her.
"One of us has to be," Blair eyed her lasciviously as they pulled into the driveway.
After Blair's parents had left, they proceeded upstairs.
"Give me the key," Blair demanded as she produced the handcuffs. Jo shook her head and removed the key from the ring. Blair clicked it into the cuffs to make sure it worked. Satisfied, she turned to Jo.
"Take your clothes off," she eyed Jo up and down.
"Now, wait a minute, Blair," Jo was hesitant. "What are you going to do?"
"Take your clothes off."
Jo took her clothes off and stood naked before Blair. "Now what?"
"Lay down on the bed."
"Uh-uh, no way, Blair."
"Lay down on the bed!" Blair commanded.
Jo reclined on the bed feeling very nervous. "Now what?"
Blair dangled the handcuffs in front of her. "Put your hands up against the bed rail."
"I don't think so," Jo shook her head and sat up.
"Oh, come on, Jo," Blair sat next to her. "This could be fun," she pleaded.
"I'm scared of that look in your eyes when you boss me around. I think you're liking this too much!"
Blair stared at her with consternation. "Well one of us has to be the dominant one!"
"Yeah, but why you?"
"As you pointed out, I am the one with the deviant mind!"
"I just don't know what you're going to do to me."
"Okay… rules," Blair exhaled. "I will never hurt you, unless you want to be hurt, and even then, I won't hurt you, okay?"
"I guess," Jo nodded. "But we need a safe word."
"A safe word? Where did you learn that?"
"I guess I did some research… okay?" Jo rolled her eyes.
"Oh my God, Jo! Me too!"
"That makes us both deviants," Jo laughed.
"In the very best way!" Blair pronounced proudly. "So, a safe word," she pondered.
"We could just go with ow," Jo proposed.
"Okay," Blair squeezed her nipples hard.
"Ow!" Jo shouted.
"Was that the safe word?"
"Oh, um, no. That just hurt."
"I think we need a better word," Blair reasoned.
"I know! How about moth?" Jo was proud of her suggestion.
Blair raised her eyebrows. "I don't want to relegate moths to a safe word, Jo. You know how I feel about them!"
"Okay then, how about Viktor?"
"No way!" Blair complained. "That would make me think of Antwoine and all the warm, fuzzy feelings I have for him. Wouldn't do."
They both sat and thought.
"I've got it!" Jo smiled her megawatt smile. "Boots!"
"Oh, I like that, Jo," Blair approved. "Our safe word is Boots! Now lay down on the bed!"
Jo was still apprehensive, but laid down anyway. She allowed Blair to handcuff her to the brass head frame of the bed. Once Blair had clicked the handcuffs, she checked them to make sure they were tight. She then stood over the bed and stared down at Jo.
"What are you going to do, Blair?" Jo asked somewhat apprehensively.
"Punish you," Blair stated as she slowly stripped down to her underwear.
"Aren't you going to get naked?" Jo asked.
"No more questions!" Blair squeezed her nipples.
"Ow!" Jo shouted.
"That wasn't the safe word ow, was it?" Blair asked concerned.
"Dammit, Blair," Jo was frustrated, "the safe word is Boots!"
"Right!" Blair flipped Jo over. She slapped her naked behind. "That's for thinking I have a thing for Carolyn!" She slapped her again. "That's for you actually having a thing for Julie!"
"I do not have a thing for Julie!" Jo protested. This got her another slap, even harder.
"This is for complaining about my art," Blair punished her ass again. She rolled her over and spread her legs. She slapped between her thighs, right on her sex.
"Ow!" Jo cried out again.
Blair picked up a brush from the nightstand and raked it over Jo's nipples. Jo bucked up as her eyes fluttered back. Blair couldn't stand it anymore as she dove between her legs, ravishing her.
The idea that she was chained to a bed naked and prone before her rich girlfriend drove Jo to heights of ecstasy she had never experienced before. Suddenly, she was blameless in the situation. There was no Catholic guilt. There was no shame in being with a member of the ruling class. She was being dominated and the situation was out of her control. Jo's was so aroused that she exploded into Blair's mouth in a matter of moments, her orgasm overwhelming her. "Boots, Boots, Boots," she yelled.
"I think you're unclear on the concept of a safe word, Jo," Blair gazed up at her from between her thighs. "You're supposed to use it when I'm hurting you too much, not when you're coming!"
"That was so intense, I thought I might die," Jo exhaled unevenly.
"You want me to stop?" Blair questioned.
"Maybe one more time," Jo breathed heavily. Blair went down again and was rewarded with another explosion from a pulsating nub.
"Okay," Jo closed her legs as Blair came up to kiss her. "That was alright."
"Just all right?" Blair was offended.
"No," Jo laughed. "It was great, Babe, as usual. I only meant the S&M thing. It was alright."
"I kind of got off on it," Blair kicked off her underpants and slinked out of her bra. "It felt powerful." She laid her naked body over Jo's.
"I mean, I don't want to do it all the time," Jo said. "But as a change-up, it's kind of nice."
"Maybe we should get sex toys," Blair suggested.
"We don't need them."
"Yeah, well I could've used a whip or a riding crop tonight," Blair observed.
"What?" Jo couldn't believe what she was hearing. "No way!"
"I would never draw blood, Jo. Just to tease you with."
"I don't know. This was erotic enough for me."
"We can talk about it later," Blair yawned as she curled up next to her and closed her eyes.
"Um, Blair," Jo said.
"What?" Blair yawned.
"The handcuffs?"
"What about them?"
"Take them off, Blair! This isn't funny!"
"Okay, okay," Blair retrieved the key, releasing Jo.
"Next time I'm cuffing you, Blair!" Jo rubbed her wrists as she dropped the cuffs on the nightstand.
"Promises, promises," Blair snuggled up against her.
It was a perfect late October evening as Blair slid her key into the door. She turned to watch the clouds lit up by the sunset. She dropped her book bag next to the door and headed for the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. Jo had told her that she had to study late at the library, so she was on her own. Blair was confused as she heard the roar of Jo's motorcycle and saw a bunch of blue, white and red balloons pass by the window. She smiled at Jo through the glass and watched amused as she tried to untie the balloons from the back of her bike. She was finally successful as she turned to Blair and smiled sheepishly. Blair didn't know what this was all about, but she felt her heart melt as she watched her tough girlfriend struggle with a bunch of lightweight balloons. Jo had trouble entering the house with all the balloons, as well.
"Whoa! A little help here, Blair?"
Blair took pity on her and helped her gather the unwieldy bouquet through the door.
"What is this, Jo?" Blair laughed.
"The Tricolour!" Jo smiled triumphantly as she handed the balloons to Blair.
"The French Flag?" Blair questioned.
"Hold these, Blair," Jo raised her hand. "I'll be right back!"
Jo reentered with a bouquet of real flowers, and a large bag.
"What is all this Jo?"
Jo started pulling items out of the bag. "A baguette, a bottle of wine, a fine French meal and," she paused for dramatic effect, "the pièce de résistance… a French music cd!"
"I'm sensing a theme here, Jo," Blair folded her hands in front of her as she rocked back and forth, batting her eyes and grinning coquettishly.
"Yeah, well," Jo ducked her head and nodded. "I figured since you had to cancel your European vacation this summer, I'd bring a little of Europe to you. You've had it kind of rough lately." She paused and gazed up nervously at her through dark lashes. "What do you think?"
"I think now I know why you were chatting up the waiter at the French restaurant the other night."
"Well… yeah," Jo shrugged. "I needed a little help."
Blair released the balloons. They flew in various directions towards the ceiling. She crossed over to Jo and took both her hands. "I think this is by far, the sweetest, most considerate, most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me."
"Really? So you like it?" Jo asked expectantly.
"Oh, Jo," Blair held her face in her hands and kissed her. "I love it!"
Jo placed the cd into the player, turned it on and threw a white cloth on the table. She lit two candles and quickly set dishes and flatware on top.
"Mademoiselle?" she bowed as she indicated for Blair to sit down.
Blair sat as Jo poured the wine and sat beside her.
"I'm a little surprised at the French theme, Jo. I didn't think you particularly liked French food."
"Uh, we're not eating snails and frogs tonight, Blair. I got that beef and vegetable stuff, instead."
"It's delicious," Blair sampled the Beef Bourguignonne.
"Yeah, I thought after the French restaurant fiasco, that we could use a moment in France to ourselves," Jo smiled sweetly. "Imagine us in a small bistro, the corner table, all of Paris outside…"
"I feel it, Jo!" Blair smiled.
"Just me and you, Babe," Jo returned her smile. "Just me and you."
They clinked their wine glasses together and drank. Later, they found their way upstairs, making love for hours. Jo had one last surprise for Blair.
"I have a night, night story for you," she smiled sweetly at Blair.
"Oh, Jo! Like when we were in the penthouse with Bailey?"
"Yep!"
"Wait! Let me get Mr. Frog!"
Blair snuggled up to Jo with her stuffed toy clutched tightly to her chest.
"Look at this book, Blair! It's everywhere we went to in Paris! The Opera House, the Eiffel Tower…"
"We could go back next summer," Blair interrupted.
"I doubt I could afford that," Jo sighed.
"I'll pay for it, Jo. You know that."
"And you know that I can't accept charity."
Blair sighed deeply. "We're going to have to talk about this."
"But not now," Jo complained. "You're ruining the moment. I was going to read you a night, night story!"
"You're right," Blair held Mr. Frog tight and laid her head on Jo's shoulder. "Proceed!"
Jo began to read:
"In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines. They left the house, at half past nine… the smallest one was Madeline…"