From last chapter: Bulma survives an almost-deadly helicopter crash, with Vegeta rushing by her side. Later, they reflect on the nature of their interactions, which also reminds them of other priorities.

Bulma entered a quaint flower and plant shop carrying a shopping bag and thinking. Another month had passed as she and Vegeta continued seeing each other - or not - to engage in their erotic adventures, or just share their respective beds. The sex never stopped being amazing, but Vegeta's restlessness was coming to the fore, which Bulma felt. He didn't intend to make Earth his, but now it appeared that way. He had no friends other than Bulma - though her parents accepted him as "a family member in progress." Interestingly enough, Goku's son Gohan found ways to visit the Briefs. He'd offer a polite hello when Vegeta showed up on the premises, sometimes following with kind word or two. Even Bulma felt amazed by this, considering the boy was well within his right to dislike Vegeta considerably.

Then again, she was too.

Vegeta grunted garbled, grouchy hellos at first, hoping to distance himself and his festering ego from the son of the man who stoked his fury and jealousy. He bore no ill-will toward the boy, at least for now. He saw Gohan's potential in a way that even Piccolo didn't, he believed. If his own pride hadn't been an obstacle, he probably would've tried to teach the boy more, but on his own exacting terms as a hardened Saiyan fighter.

"Is Bulma around, sir?"

"Why are you asking me?" Vegeta asked crossly. "I'm sure any one of her annoying hangers-on can find her - or her parents."

"OK. Thanks."

Vegeta moved by him, elbowing Gohan's shoulder almost hard enough to dislocate it. "You didn't give up so easily when I kicked your ass, boy. Actually, didn't I do it more than once?"

Gohan shot a hardened stare at him, and then smirked. "I heard you were blinded in one eye and then, when I turned into that great ape, got laid flat under my body like a pancake. Wish I could remember it."

Vegeta face reflected both menace and amusement. "Maybe you will one day, unless I -."

"Why do you hate my father and not me?" Gohan asked point blank. "But really, even after everything that happened, I'm having hard time believing that you actually do."

Vegeta burned on the inside for being challenged like this - from Goku's son no less - but the boy had the balls to ask a legit question, so he'd get an answer.

"Maybe ask yourself instead what the benefit is of being strong without making the most of it, or appreciating it for what it truly is. Your big green friend Piccolo, I'm sure, is most familiar with that. Put aside of what you think of me - though I don't really care - and consider the cruelty and destruction you've seen already. Hatred comes in many forms, in the ugliest ways, which outmatch my own. Now leave me alone before you get another gut punch."

"But -"

Both Vegeta and Gohan shared quick glances as Panchy jogged toward them.

"Oh, I see you're together!" she shouted eagerly. "Wonderful! Maybe you both can help me with something!"

"What are you waiting for?" Vegeta slapped the back of Gohan's head. "Get going, boy!"

"Gone!"

They flew in opposite directions. Panchy stamped on the ground, cursing a blue streak. "You'll both pay for this!"

Bulma grinned thinking about her mother's dramatic account by phone about the "great escape." She wandered her way through to a spacious plant nursery in the back of the shop. A blonde-haired woman with a semiautomatic handgun strapped to her hip swept the floor. She swung the broom with tense, swift whacks, stopping when Bulma dropped her bag next to a long row of yellow marigolds.

"Well, well, look who we have here," Launch said with an acidic drawl. "It's the lady of Capsule manor! How art thou, o queen of the closed fist? Glad I'm strapped with my weaponry today."

"Oh stop it," Bulma said. "I come in peace. By the way, the shop looks absolutely gorgeous. You should move closer into the city. The employees appear happy too."

"For what, Bulma? Customers who want what I have make the effort. Now what are you doing here?"

"To apologize. I hope that what happened that day didn't drive you to -"

"Switch personalities? Don't flatter yourself, wench. As you said, I used this persona to be more assertive. I also like how blonde looks on me. The blue-haired Launch has always been present."

Bulma's lips pursed. "Don't get all high and mighty on me. You've been 'assertive' for a long, long time. I shouldn't have punched you, but you weren't without fault - not one iota."

"Excuse me?" Launch dropped the broom, strolling over. "You enjoyed my generous attention until catching Vegeta fever. I was all for you bonking him at first, but I didn't expect to be discarded so callously for you to feel better about seducing someone who would likely destroy your feelings worse than Yamcha ever could!"

"And you got your jollies from the run up!" Bulma shouted. "You are my friend - or at least I thought you were. That wasn't a game! Remember what you said?"

Launch grabbed a spade, churning dirt in a flower box. "Oh give it a rest."

"No!" Bulma roared. "You knew what I was going through mentally! You said Vegeta was 'nowhere near prepared to provide what you need sexually or otherwise.' For you to cackle in my face about him possibly rejecting me - well, how would you feel? There you were, stripping off my clothes and kissing me, and then that shit fell out of your mouth - callously. You played with my mind. It was humiliating."

"You could have politely asked me to leave before almost breaking my jaw!" Launch hissed, jamming the spade in the dirt. "I see that I also was correct about Vegeta rejecting you."

Both women were crying by this time. Launch covered her face, bending over.

"I shouldn't have come here," Bulma said sadly. "I thought we could make amends. You have the nerve to criticize others for being self-centered but can't see the same thing about yourself."

"I'm sorry, Bulma. I really didn't mean to hurt you. I said that at the time."

"Doesn't seem like it to me, judging from what I just heard. It was defiant and mean."

Launch unlocked shelf on the wall in front of her office, removing a bottle of expensive gin and two glasses. "Even now, you don't understand."

"What the fuck don't I understand? Count me out if you plan to wallow in self-pity."

Launch poured gin for them both. "You're still here, aren't you? So just listen."

Bulma frowned, taking the glass. "Where's the ice?

"The ice bucket behind me here."

"So what is it, Launch? I have to leave soon."

"I guess I started to feel threatened, Bulma. I loved seeing you wide-open sexually. I am responsible for letting that genie out of the bottle. I played a role and felt proud of it. Having your close attention when no one else did felt great. You're sassy, daring, super smart, and don't want for anything - just truly special. I hoped to keep that little part of sunshine to myself a bit longer."

"And what about Tien?"

"He's not going anywhere. You are. I love him. But how I feel about you both is different."

"I get what you're saying," Bulma said sympathetically. "It's clear that having an 'open relationship' means ruling out certain friends for sex. I could have pushed back harder, but everything we exposed ourselves to together felt unbelievable too. Doing what we did wasn't the hell on Earth by any means."

Launch downed her gin, pouring another glass. "You and Vegeta together now?"

Bulma refused the glass, taking her hand. "I gotta go. A gift for you is in that bag over there."

Launch smiled awkwardly. "You didn't have to."

"I know I didn't."

"Let me give you something in return." Launch ran back into her office, returning with a small wooden box. "Take this, just in case you're running out."

"You keep Sternuta in your office?" Bulma burst out laughing. "Actually, I don't want to know what you're doing with it here."

"I grow some botanical ingredients for the person who makes it. We aren't the only ones with this awesome kink!"

Bulma took the box, slipping it into her purse like contraband. "You know that you're sounding disturbingly spiritual about this stuff, right?"

"You look like you're going to be arrested for doing that," Launch said, laughing loudly. "Don't you want to know who makes this stuff, girlie?"

"No. I'll keep my suspicions private as well."

"If you've been too chicken shit to try it with your lover, whoever it is, then maybe it's time you should."

"I haven't said anything about having any lover."

"You don't have to." Launch checked her gun's safety lock, following her out. "Not even Yamcha put the sparkle I see in your eyes now. It's like night and day. Now go away. I have shooting practice soon."

Bulma's heels clacked speedily toward her SUV. All of the windows and windshield went pitch black on the outside. She opened the box Launch gave her, dipping her pinky finger inside for no more than a few grains after crawling into the back seats. She still had to go to work. Coming into the office red-faced and acting dippy - not to mention completely hot to trot - absolutely couldn't happen. The familiar tingle tickled inside of her nostril's rim. She clutched a handkerchief, sneezing down into it with relief. Her bra-less tits bounced as a couple more sneezes came out. Then they stopped. She dropped the cloth, removing a pink vibrator from a hidden compartment behind the seat, circling her pussy with the throbbing instrument.

"Just two minutes," she moaned. "That's...that's all I need. No or...orgasm."

Bulma scribbled on a ragged notepad, trying to focus. She felt uncomfortably warm, despite her office's comfortable temperature. The source of discomfort could be her new birth control pills, she thought, or maybe it was the one glass of gin she had earlier with Launch. Oh yeah: Maybe it was that quick self-satisfaction journey she took in the back of her car! Whatever it was, she needed immediate relief. Water would have to suffice.

"Damn it. I have to finish this!" The sketch's geometry and dimensions weren't coming together, and it pissed her off even more when her favorite pencil cracked in half. She yowled like an angry cat, throwing the splintered instrument on the floor.

Her wristwatch snarled - her personal ringer for Vegeta's attempts to reach her. Her cheeks puffed out. Was this the time to answer? He either had a request for something work-related or some other non-scheduled naughtiness she had no time to entertain. Didn't he know she was busy?!

Decision made: No, she wouldn't answer.

"He should be training anyway - or reading a book or something," she griped. "It's too early for him to be done for the day. He would chew me out if I stopped his daytime occupation at this hour."

Sometimes he did, but not much. She knew that. They rarely interrupted each other's routine unless absolutely necessary, unless they were genuinely curious. It was more fun to anticipate what came after work ceased. Yet Vegeta had been putting in more training time that Bulma didn't consider the most productive. Even the most well designed mechanical gears could wear down when overtaxed. She considered whether to say something for his own good. When they weren't with each other for several nights, he would almost always be restless, and sometimes irritable, on their first evening together.

Next came the text.

V: What are you wearing today - or not wearing?

"Ugh!" Bulma shook her phone over her head, dictating her reply. "Why can't he just leave me alone?!"

B: I'm busy.

V: I didn't ask you that. You're always busy.

B: Can't you spank your dick on your own time?V: Is that a rhetorical question?Bulma's eyes hit the ceiling as she laughed. Vegeta was becoming skilled at finding openings to keep her attention when he felt frisky.

B: I hate you.

V: What does that have to do with anything? I hate practically everyone.

B: I'm not wearing my bra. My tits itch like crazy now, which I'm blaming on you. Happy now?Vegeta's next text sent an attachment entitled, "See you later." Bulma held her breath, wondering whether to open it then.

She did.

"Oh my stars." She covered her mouth. Her lace panties became wetter with each picture she saw. "That man is an absolute demon!"

After gulping a tall glass of water, she grabbed her purse, covering up her rock-hard tits. Her fist struck the hydraulic door's release button to leave.

She jumped back with a yelp. The intruder, smelling of wood and spice, was dressed in all black - semi-baggy jeans, jacket, shoes - and wearing a crème-colored shirt. The uniform was simple yet utterly magnificent, and he knew it. He licked his lips before looking up with an air of confidence and trouble. Bulma had no way to get out with his burly right arm extended over the door frame.

"Going somewhere?" Vegeta asked, demanding her visual attention. "Isn't it early to be leaving work?"

My god, I've created a monster, Bulma thought, gazing at him. It's like he's delirious. No - he looks downright feral. Damn him. We can't do anything in my office! What does he think he's doing, especially after sending those pictures?

Vegeta's slender, mysterious grin sent a chill through her body, reminding her of when they first met. She gasped as he pushed her back inside. He dimmed the lights one step below shadowy.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" she asked, throwing her purse at him. Vegeta's head cocked as she backed away. He used his power to keep the expensive leather bag airborne, setting it on her desk.

"That wasn't very nice at all, throwing things at me like that," he said, snapping his right fingers. "You should never have given me access, woman. You're too trusting."

"Do you actually think I wouldn't rig my office enough to kill us both?" Bulma taunted as she finally approached him. "You have no way of knowing how."

"That's easy," Vegeta replied, seizing her. Bulma sighed as his tongue licked her clavicle. "Poison gas, of course - but I have a high tolerance for toxic substances. You would choke first. That would be a…pity."

Bulma gripped his tongue between her fingers. "We have a deal, Vegeta. Now get the hell off of me and leave my office. You're completely breaking the rules. No bra, no touch."

"You're right," he whispered, nipping her ear. "That's why I sent those photos. I... need you to do things for me. I won't beg, but I can make the prospects enticing. You've been holding back, as if I couldn't tell."

Bulma yanked his hair, hungrily drawing him in for a ferocious kiss. She shoved him against a long meeting table, feeling his chest as his sturdy arms cradled her semi-naked body. After lifting her skirt he unbuttoned his jeans, rubbing his swelling dick on her inner thigh. Bulma's hands tightened on his jacket's lapels, wrenching them as Vegeta's tongue pushed further into her mouth. His hooded eyes drifted backward like a man high on drugs. He was close to losing the control that he came in with as her silky fingers crept toward his dick.

"Oh, my god," he exhaled, holding her arms in place. His pelvis arched up, thrusting against her. Another few minutes and Bulma would find a way to get his dick into her mouth, he knew, to drive him wild. The denouement was at hand. Four. Three. Two. One. Now!

He released her, teasing and laughing in that deep-throated, gritty way that often irritated others. It didn't phase Bulma at the moment, but she still wanted to smack the living shit out of him.

"I was wrong to disobey the rules." Still chuckling, Vegeta touched his reddened lips. "I guess you'll have to punish me."

Bulma turned her back. "You dirty cheating bastard - and stop pinching my ass like that! Leave!"

Vegeta removed a long gold mortise key from his pocket, swinging its braided-leather strap over her head. "You'll know where I'll be."

"Give me that!" Bulma shouted. His laughing continued as she hopped around. "How did you find it?"

"You're not the only one who's smart. We also had a deal. Game over."

Bulma pouted, stamping her feet much like her mother would. "How long have you had it?"

"Long enough," Vegeta said, pitching the key over his shoulder. "I don't know why you chose such a simple game. Just because you thought hiding it in a safe would make things too easy doesn't mean I couldn't figure out those elaborate puzzles you gave me."

Bulma caught the key, rolling the strap between her thumb and forefinger. He had gone too far. "Ten p.m., Vegeta. Be on time - and eat early, because there will be no dinner."

"That's what you think," Vegeta said, closing the door. "Look at your security camera next time too. Beware of strangers."

Bulma casually glanced at her mirrored wall clock. She loved this decoration especially, with its parallel rectangular frames and slender smooth-moving hands spiraling on its face. She sipped Prosecco from a champagne flute. Her elbow-length black leather gloves and stiletto boots gleamed in the moonlight, smelling fresh of musky polish. The classical background music bounced with a decorative, anticipatory piano polonaise. She stood spreading her arms wide, holding the glass high as if revelers had filled the room. Her matte lipstick and penciled eyebrows were delicious signs of determination - not finitude.

Her sleeveless leather dress, called "Perfection," hugged curves from her breasts down to slightly above her knees. The unadorned appearance was pure. Fancy corsets and ties were unnecessary.

Her smile faded as the doorbell chimed, though not from unhappiness, fear or disappointment. Five minutes until ten p.m. - early enough to fulfill her expectation for punctuality, as well as his.

The manner of the man who walked inside appeared nothing like the one who set Bulma's body alight earlier. Instead, he looked defiantly sullen in the way that others would find most familiar.

She smiled kindly, stepping aside. Vegeta's body language seemed half-closed and open. He apparently had been mulling this for a while, she thought. Observing him, she wondered if this was the best path, taking his personal history into account. Why she didn't fear for safety was a testament to her courage - - or total insanity. He was a firecracker. Even her mother would probably freak out if she knew about this.

She held his tensed hand. "I didn't expect you to ask for this when we talked later."

Vegeta averted his eyes. "I know."

"That must have been very, very hard for you to do. What prompted the request?"

Vegeta looked up. "You."

Thanks to everyone who sent public and private comments to me. I appreciate hearing what you think!