A/N: OK, I know it's been about a month since I updated, but bear with me. I haven't given up yet!

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The loft door slid closed behind her as Maureen walked in, reeking of perfume. She had managed to hold the bottle the wrong way at least four times, successfully spraying perfume in her face instead of on the customers, arousing some laughter from the latter. The odor had been giving her a splitting headache for the past few hours, and she was looking forward to washing it off of her, as she headed for the bathroom She swung the door open without knocking, desperate for relief, and found Mimi brushing her teeth in front of the grimy mirror.

"Sorry," she muttered when the other woman jumped.

"It's ok," she replied, clenching the toothbrush with her teeth while she put her hair up. She pulled it out of her mouth, took a swig of water, and, after swishing it around in her mouth for a substantial time, spat it out. "I'm done," she told Maureen once she'd recapped the toothpaste and returned the brush.

"Kay," she replied, sliding by Mimi, and heading for the closet to get some fresh towels and a washcloth.

"What are you doing?"

Maureen looked up to see Mimi in the archway, eyeing the towels in her hands. Maureen looked down at them herself and then back at Mimi. "I was gonna take a shower..."

"Uh uh," Mimi said, swiping up the towels from a confused Maureen, "No, no, no."

"Mimi, I smell like jasmine or lavender or whatever the hell kind of perfume I was spraying today," she protested, reaching for the linens Mimi was clutching behind her back.

"We have to leave for work in fifteen minutes. You take a half hour shower," Maureen groaned, "At minimum."

"Mimi I don't think I can go tonight," Maureen pleaded, giving her the best pout she could.

"Don't give me that," Mimi retorted, throwing the towels at her, "Now brush your teeth, fix your make up, do whatever you can to pretty up in fifteen minutes."

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

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Twenty minutes later, the two were headed for the Catscratch club, Mimi skipping and singing, and Maureen shuffling her feet. Mimi turned around to skip backwards, and rolled her eyes at the sight of Maureen, who turned her head away, refusing to make eye contact.

"God, you really are a drama queen, aren't you?" when the diva didn't respond, Mimi heaved a sigh, skipped over to her, and grabbed her hand.

"C'mon," she urged, linking her arm with Maureen's, "skip with me!"

Maureen freed her arm, and stormed away from Mimi, who quickly followed her, linking arms again once she caught up. She began to skip, singing, "We're OFF to see the Wizard! The wonderful Wizard of Oz!"

"I'll kill you."

"Oh, stop it Maureen!" Mimi whined, "What are you, the Wicked Witch of the West?"

"Are you drunk?"

"I might've had a beer or two," she giggled, before hopping off.

She continued skipping and singing, and Maureen couldn't help but smile. She was gonna have to make the best of this.

"I'll get you my pretty!" she cackled, running after Mimi, "and your little dog too!"

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When the door to the strip club opened, the first thing Maureen saw was a very busty woman on stage, wearing only a thong and a bra skimpier than her own, dancing with a man she pulled out of the audience. The guy looked like a Mark type, skinny with glasses, and seemed terrified.

"See?" Mimi said, elbowing Maureen, "it's not THAT bad."

"Joanne would die if she knew I was working here," Maureen replied looking at all the scantily clad women.

"Well, then this is for you to know and her to never find out," Mimi said, a perfect solution in her mind. "Now, the bar is over there," she told her, pointing to the right, "I have to go change, so you'll be seeing me later."

"Can't wait," she said, starting over to the bar.

There was one other woman working there, a pretty blonde wearing a hot pink mini skirt and a too tight black tank top.

"Hi," Maureen said as she stepped behind the counter. She stuck her hand out, "I'm Maureen."

The other woman looked at Maureen's hand for a second, as if wondering what to do with it. Finally, she stuck her own hand out and shook Maureen's. "Mitsi," she said.

Maureen smiled, and, after releasing the handshake, noticed a diamond ring on the bartender's left hand. "Engaged?" she asked, pointing to the ring when Mitsi seemed confused.

"Oh, that," she replied, twisting the piece of jewelry on her finger, "I was, he dumped me for this girl he met years ago in high school...I still wear it out of habit."

Maureen nodded with understanding, "I just broke up with my girlfriend, Joanne."

"I'm sorry," Mitsi replied, not knowing what else to say.

"Me too."

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"You need to get out."

Joanne looked up from the computer at her friend, Stacie, who had her arms crossed and was tapping her foot. That was her angry pose.

Stacie was a vibrant redhead with blue eyes as bright as her personality. She stood at about six feet tall, but was hardly ever seen without heels, which could make her as high as six feet five inches. Her style of clothing was like nothing Joanne had ever seen before, and would most likely never see again. The outfit she was currently sporting included a pastel purple shirt, exploding with orange polka dots, accompanied by a black and white striped skirt. Lime green heels added three inches to her height, and yellow hoops big enough to stick your hand through dangled from her ears, paired with a matching yellow bandana. And, as always, the whole ensemble was topped off with her thick, black glasses, adding color to her frighteningly pale face.

Many times, Joanne would gaze in wonder at her unique friend, and ponder just how a pair so obscenely different ended up as best friends. Then she reminded herself that her very girlfriend- ex-girlfriend...was Maureen Johnson, and supposed that maybe opposites did attract. Still, the more she looked at Stacie, the more she looked like she should be Maureen's irritating friend, and not her own.

"What I need to do is finish my work," Joanne replied, returning to the keyboard.

Stacie pulled up a chair and sat next to Joanne. "Sweetie your work is done. It's been done. You've been proofreading for the past two hours."

Joanne glared at her. "You can't be too careful."

"Oh yes you can," Stacie argued, grabbing Joanne's arm and pulling her up to a standing position. "Look," she said, grabbing Joanne's face and making her look her in the eye, "If you miss her so much, why don't you call her?"

"Miss who?" she asked, knowing exactly who her friend was speaking of.

Stacie rolled her eyes. "Maureen."

Joanne bit her lip. This breakup had been so much different and so much more painful than previous ones. In every split they had prior to this, Maureen would be begging for forgiveness no more than a week later. Joanne would come home to several messages on her machine, all from a pleading Maureen, swearing that "this time would be different."

This time, however, it had already been three weeks. Three long weeks without so much as a note from Maureen. Joanne was beginning to wonder if her ex-girlfriend had finally moved on.

"I don't miss her," she lied.

Stacie heaved a sigh, "Baby, you haven't been out of this apartment for anything other than work since you broke up with her," she rubbed her forehead in frustration, "Why'd you even break up with her if you're still so crazy about her."

Joanne thought about that for a second. Why had she broken up with Maureen? "She was too irresponsible," she recalled, thinking back to that night she'd come home drunk, "She wasn't ready to settle down, and I am."

"Oh don't give me that," Stacie replied, going to sit down on the couch.

"What do you mean?" Joanne asked, sitting next to her.

"You didn't dump Maureen because you don't think she's the person you want to settle down with."

Joanne looked at her quizzically, "Well, why did I dump her then?"

"You're afraid she's gonna leave you," Stacie replied, grinning.

Joanne muttered something inaudible before putting her feet up and turning the television on to her favorite crime drama.

"No, no, no," Stacie shot at her, snatching the remote, "You're not staying in tonight." Then Stacie got this bright look on her face, like a light bulb going off in her head. "I know exactly where I'll take you!" she exclaimed, jumping off the couch and grabbing her coat. She pulled the bandana she was wearing off her head and went to tie it around Joanne's head, who smacked her hand away.

"What do you think you're doing?" she spat at her giddy friend.

"Oh just go along with it you sour puss," she demanded sitting on top of her, "It's surprise." Joanne groaned with annoyance, yet sat obediently as Stacie tied the bright bandana around her eyes.

"Now lemme help you put your coat on," she said, sliding Joanne's arms into the sleeves of her trench coat, "and just hang on to me, alright? I won't let you get hurt."

"Do I have any other choice?"

"Nope."

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It was raining outside. Cold, sharp rain came down steadily. Not a downpour, but not a drizzle either.

"Stacie, where in the hell are you taking me?" Joanne whined, after stepping in the umpteenth puddle, soaking her slacks yet again.

"O just shut up and enjoy the ride," Stacie replied, yanking on Joanne's arm, "And pick up the pace."

Joanne groaned. She had insisted to Stacie that they take a cab, or at least a subway. Stacie had brushed off the notion, however, claiming that walking in freezing rain on the puddle-laden New York City streets would be "funner."

"Besides," Stacie had told her, "You'd look silly on a subway station, wearing a blindfold and all."

Joanne found it amazingly ironic for Stacie to be lecturing her about looking silly, but kept her mouth shut.

"And we're here!" Stacie exclaimed, dramatically swiping the bandana from Joanne's face, revealing the flashing lights of the Catscratch Club. "Whaddaya think?" Stacie asked with a bright smile lining her face, as she replaced the bandana around her head.

Joanne shook her head. "No," she said firmly, turning around to hail a taxi cab. She needed to go home. To lie down, and wallow in her feelings, and be very far away from her crazy friend. Or any human being for that matter.

"Oh come on," Stacie protested, grabbing each of Joanne's arms and pulling her back. "It'll be fun."

"Stacie," Joanne tried to reason, turning around and facing her heterosexual comrade, "you don't want to be here."

"And why not?" she asked, looking at Joanne through her thick framed glasses quizzically.

"Stace, all the strippers are women. No guys."

"Oh well," Stacie replied, shrugging the comment off, "this is your night anyway. Plus, there's still the bar, which I hear has great prices."

Joanne groaned, and pulled her friend back as she started to walk into the club. "Stacie, I really cannot go in there."

"Stop being so anti-fun Joanne!" her eccentric companion whined, "You used to go to strip clubs all the time in college with that friend of yours what's-his-face."

Joanne grimaced, "It's not the fact that it's a strip club...it's just...I have a friend who works here."

Stacie studied Joanne with a completely dumbfounded expression on her face. "Joanne Jefferson...is friends with a...stripper?"

Joanne tried to think of a reasonable explanation for being acquainted with the dancer, but the best thing she could come up with was that she was Maureen's ex-boyfriends roommate's girlfriend, which didn't clear up much. "She's...well, she's Mimi," she finally stated, trying to make it as simple as possible, "Remember I told you about my friend Mimi?"

"The one who almost died that one Christmas?" Stacie asked offhandedly, the thought that bringing up the near death experience of Joanne's friend being upsetting not occurring to her.

Joanne sucked in a deep breath, remembering that painful fall, "Yes, that one."

Suddenly, without warning, Stacie burst into laughter. "I just can't believe that serious lawyer Joanne is friends with a stripper," she sputtered, holding on to her gut.

Joanne rolled her eyes, "Well, there's much more to her than that. I've never seen her at work anyway."

Stacie grinned. "I'm sure..." she muttered.

"Jesus..." Joanne mumbled, rubbing her temples and walking away. She loved Stacie, well, most times anyway, but sometimes she could really be too much. Wasn't the whole purpose of dragging her out tonight to cheer her up? So far, it'd been just the opposite.

Stacie heaved a heavy sigh, "You really need to lighten up. Come on, let's go in, get a few drinks, and see if your friend's working. It'll be a first."

"Stacie I think I need to-"

But before she could finish, Stacie had already grabbed her arm and dragged her into the club. "Now c'mon," she urged, smacking Joanne's ass with the hand that wasn't clinging to her arm, making sure she wouldn't run away, "Let's go get a drink, m'kay?"

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So far, the night had been all but insufferable for Maureen. The cloud of smoke surrounding the bar seemed perpetual, and only got thicker if anything, not to mention men continued making passes on her. One drunken man had tried to grab her breasts, pretending to reach for his drink, and she smacked his hand away. Another man, who seemed perfectly sober, grinned when he saw her and asked, "Honey, what're you doing down here? You'd make much more money dancing." Maureen simply rolled her eyes at him and asked what he'd like. When he responded by asking her name, she sighed and asked Mitsi to take the order.

The bar was pretty empty now, so she sat on her stool, tapping her fingernails on the counter, and glanced at the clock. She still had a good two hours before she could go home.

It was then, when her eyes drifted from the clock that she saw Joanne walk in with an unmistakable redhead clinging to her arm. Stacie. She had become good friends with her when she dated Joanne, and it was virtually impossible to miss her brightly colored hair and her towering height. Maureen tried to calm down, telling herself that they were here as friends, when, just before dragging her off to the bar, Stacie smacked Joanne on the ass.

She didn't understand. She and Stacie had gotten along great in the past...why would she do this? Who would do that to a friend? Maureen couldn't help but wonder if there hadn't always been something going on.

"Mitsi!" Maureen hissed under her breath, shaking her co-worker who was all but asleep in her chair.

"What?" she asked, shaking drowsiness from her head, and turning to Maureen.

"Look over there," Maureen whispered nodding her head in the direction of her ex, accompanied by her new companion, "See the redhead?"

Mitsi squinted, scanning the club, then nodded when her eyes rested on the woman fitting Maureen's description. "What about her?"

"That chick she's dragging is my ex-girlfriend...Mits, I need you to pretend that you're with me, ok?"

She nodded, "Yeah, I can do that."

"Okay, just act natural, like we're having a conversation, then, when they're close enough to see, kiss me."

Mitsi nodded, and the two of them engaged in a conversation about what they thought the woman currently dancing was named. Every few seconds, Maureen would glance over to see how close Joanne and Stacie were, waiting for the perfect time. When Maureen saw Joanne's jaw drop, she knew the lawyer had spotted her. She winked at Mitsi, who then leaned in for a kiss, which Maureen gladly returned.

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Joanne's heart stopped.

"Stacie, let's go."

Stacie shook her head, dragging her to the bar, "Not gonna happen. I'm your girlfriend, okay Joanne? Just play along, and let me do the talking."

Joanne nodded, swallowing her tears, and reluctantly following her escort.