Part 3

Someone else was watching Liz as she trudged to the bus stop laden down with her tattered green backpack practically bursting at the seams with books. Someone with far less honorable intentions.

This mission was going to be even more difficult than he had anticipated. Not only did he have to deal with the kid's mother and her roommate the hairdressing Antarian princess but now the dead King's dupe was a part of the equation as well. It had always been clear that this was going to be a delicate operation but now the time table was going to have to be sped up a bit – couldn't risk the possibility that the gutter King would finally step up to the plate and join up with the Roswell woman and the Heir. Now that was a combination that could really throw a wrench in the plan.

Liz rounded the corner and went out of sight, loping tiredly into the distance as Nicholas stepped out from behind the large white van parked across the street from the library. The hard glint in his eyes and the nasty sneer that spread across his face as he watched Liz saunter away seemed incongruous and out of place on his youthful countenance. Although the fact that he remained forever trapped in the body of an adolescent had worked quite efficiently as a smokescreen for the 50-odd years he'd spend on earth, it was a state of being that definitely had its drawbacks as well. With the ladies, for instance……

It might be a difficult mission but there was no way that Nicholas was going to give anyone an excuse to call him a failure ever again. That little blonde bitch Tess wasn't going to laugh at him again. He still couldn't believe that he'd allowed the watered down version of the former King's prissy wife take him down before. But that was then and this was now. He gritted his teeth and flexed his jaw. There was work to be done.

"The little prince is sleeping now so I have you all to myself."

Isabel grinned lasciviously at Sarah with her smile big and perfect like a dentist's dream (or nightmare as the case may be). She wiggled her eyebrows in an exaggerated gesture and tossed her flame-colored locks, causing Sarah to erupt into laughter.

Isabel sauntered seductively towards the couch where Sarah was splayed out surrounded by scraps of paper and cookbooks, her long black hair held up in a loose bun with a pencil. As Isabel approached, Sarah looked up at her through brilliant green eyes and instinctively caught her breath.

Sarah still couldn't entirely believe her luck. When she had first gone to Isabel's salon on a friend's suggestion she had already heard tell of the goddess in the body of a stylist but nothing could have prepared her for the effect that Isabel had on her. Sarah had been around the block a few times with men but it had never really worked for her, ya know? She was relatively quiet and unassuming, not so much shy as introspective. She'd never really been able to open up to the men she'd been with and she had always figured out that that was the reason that she hadn't been able to really, um, experience her sexuality to the fullest, so the speak. She had heard her friends talking about climaxing and whatnot but until she met Isabel, she hadn't really known what she was missing! Was it really like this for other women? Just thinking about it made her eyes glaze over a tiny bit and she wet her lips in anticipation.

Reaching the couch, Isabel leant over to meet Sarah's waiting lips and as she did the tops of her full breasts (nearly overflowing from her snug scoop-necked top) became positioned directly in Sarah's line of view. Sarah felt a wave of heat rush straight through her from her toes to her face; she could feel her cheeks burning as she lowered her eyelids in pleasure.

Sarah's mouth tasted sweet and hot. Isabel found herself landing unceremoniously on the couch as she and Sarah became entangled in a quickly intensifying embrace. She felt the blood coursing furiously through her veins, a pulse, a rhythm throbbing in her nipples, her core.

This was the woman for her. The one who could make her delirious with desire at one moment and blow her mind the next with that quiet grace and soulful intelligence. When she was with Sarah, Isabel didn't feel different or wrong; she just felt cherished. Would it still be that way if she knew the truth?

Isabel pushed the question away as she dissolved into Sarah's fervent kisses. Menu planning completely forsaken, the pair were soon horizontal against the couch cushions, legs entwined, hair (both black and red) like a tornado, hands seeking soft and supple destinations……

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry."

Liz blushed and averted her eyes as she threw her keys down on the table and closed the door to the apartment behind her.

Isabel and Sarah both sat up quickly and tried to straighten up. Isabel laughed a little, self-consciously.

"Oops, sorry Liz. Got carried away fast." Sarah was silent, feeling mildly mortified as Isabel bantered with her friend.

"Don't worry about it ladies. I'm just happy that you're happy. How was my little man this evening? Did he cause any trouble?"

"As usual, our sweet prince was an excellent host. Showed Sarah a real good time drawing pictures together. He's passed out now though."

Isabel grinned and affectionately tucked a stray lock of hair behind Sarah's ear.

"Oy, that's where I need to be pronto if I'm gonna be in any shape to do well on my test tomorrow. I'm just gonna peek in on my boy and then hit the hay. Goodnight pretty ladies." Liz sighed with exhaustion as she walked down the hall to the little room adjoining her own.

Careful not to wake her son, Liz tiptoed into the room toward the twin bed by the window. The little boy was sleeping soundly, his breath heavy and regular. He was lying on his side clutching his pillow, arms and legs tangled up in the bedcovers. As Liz looked down on him her heart flooded with pure love. As she gently stroked his soft little cheek she marveled to herself that something so amazing could have come out of her small, ordinary, Liz Parker-shaped body. He was the reason that she kept her chin up every day, no matter how hard it got. After Max had been taken from her, initially she had collapsed in on herself, in so much grief that she could hardly think. But something had clicked when she found out that she was pregnant. He gave her a purpose bigger than herself, and she had known then as she knew now that falling apart was a luxury you could no longer afford when you were someone's mother.

Especially if you were the mother of boy who unwittingly was the heir to the throne on a planet he'd never even heard of. A sense of trepidation fell heavily on Liz as she gazed at her son's face, so like his father's with his deep brown eyes (closed now) and slightly outturned ears.

She pulled the blankets back to cover him and after giving him a kiss on the cheek she got up as quietly as she could and walked back to the doorway. Leaving the door open a crack, she paused for a moment, pondering the unknown dangers lurking outside the cocoon of her and Isabel's little nest. All she knew was that she would do anything in her power to keep her little boy safe.