Hey. Sorry about the delay on this story. Here is an update. I hope to have another soon.

Rated: M

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like writing about them

Feedback: Yes, please

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Chapter Two

"So, Miss Liz here has been keeping secrets. She told us she was going to dinner with the Prince but instead I pick her up at this dive bar on the other side of town hustling a game of pool with a blue eyed god."

Liz barely restrained the bubble of laughter at her friend's words and used the moment to shove the last of her blueberry muffin into her mouth. She sat in Kelly's with Bren and Sam over breakfast, a ritual the three had adopted since meeting here that first time. She usually managed to make it on time unless she was running late for work. Today was good because Sam had picked her up this morning due to her bug's kaput last night.

She still had a few select words for her GA about that.

Brenda had a ten o'clock shoot, so she was dressed down and casual while Sam was crisp and smart in her navy pinstriped Donna Karan pantsuit. She had rushed out in another baby tee, this one in a bright fushia and a pair of white low riding chinos. She would change into her scrubs that were shoved down into her tote at the hospital.

Bren on a perpetual diet picked over half a grapefruit and a bowl of shredded wheat for all of seven seconds before snatching a strip of bacon from Sam's plate like always. Sam on the other hand dove eagerly into her western omlete and wheat toast, usually ordering another half portion so that Bren could have some of her own. This way Brenda could pretend she wasn't eating bad and Sam could eat in peace.

She maintained her favorite muffin and cup of hot chocolate, rich sinful Godiva, that she usually brought in each morning. Mike Corbin, the manager of the little diner was really good about heating up a mug of milk for her. If she was going to have hot chocolate, it only made sense to have the best, right? That first sip that danced dangerously close to ecstasy was worth the monthly splurge.

"See look at her," Sam nudged Brenda with a knowing smirk, "That smile isn't for that cup of cocoa."

"I'll have you know that Godiva is ambrosia," Liz purposely picked up her mug and took a deep swallow. Closing her eyes, she moaned loudly, licking her lips, "Drink of the gods."

"What did I tell you, gods," Sam took a drink from her own cup, coffee black. "Old blue eyes is on someone's mind."

"I don't know what you're talking about. It was a simple game of pool with a nice guy who was kind enough to let me use his phone."

That sounded pathetic even to her ears. The last thing Jason Morgan looked like was a nice guy. Gorgeous. Dangerous. Mouth watering, sure. Nice, not in a kerzillion light years.

Brenda adjusted the dip in the v of her crochette knit dress and pinned her with a glare, "Some guy in a dive bar is the last person you should be thinking about. You went out with Nikolas Cassadine, Liz, now that is a real man."

"A real asshole," she muttered but Sam heard and burst into laughter. At Brenda's huff, Liz felt obligated to explain. When she got to the part about boiled cheese covered octopus both women shrieked with amusement drawing the eye of other customers.

It never failed, when she got together with these two, they were always the focus of attention whether it was intended or not. Both women curvy and sultry could have made her own willowy figure feel really inadequate if she didn't know that neither took things like that seriously.

"Okay, I take that back," Bren wrinkled her nose, "Arrogant jerk is not a good choice but neither is pool boy. If you're looking for a date, I'm sure I can suggest someone more appropriate and less of an asshole."

Not in a million years. Brenda was currently dating Jasper Jax, ego maniac extrodinaire. Dating a man in that class of assholes was out of the question.

"I'm not looking for a date," Liz cleaned her mouth with the napkin and dumped it back into her lap. "I'm not looking for a man. I'm not looking!" she finished loudly, then took a discrete look around and leaned over the table. "Do you not remember my last two relationships?"

"You mean the closet homosexual and the pervy prof who wanted to show all the students his etchings?" Sam wiggled her eyebrows with a grin, "You really know how to pick them Liz."

"Now you see my point," she sighed, "I'm tired of dating right now. All I want to do is work, paint and hang out with you two idiots. With my luck that guy will be a mob enforcer or something."

"I'd play Bonnie to his Clyde," Sam licked her finger, crooked it then made a sizzling noise. "Hubba Hubba."

"Ooh," Brenda's eyes widened as she joined Sam's joke, "He's a Hubba Hubba?"

"Um, hmm," Sam nodded, "It's rare that you get a zing and a Hubba Hubba. A Zing. A Hubba. But never both and never a double."

"Oh shut up," Liz rolled her eyes in mock annoyance.

"No really, this guy had a chest you want to snuggle up against."

"Oh, remember Jagger had one of those," Brenda sighed, reminicing over one of her former lovers. "Great for Sunday mornings. He used to bring me breakfast in bed then we'd fuck like minx."

Liz slapped a hand over her face and stared at her two insane friends between the fingers. Sam on the other hand wasn't ready to let the subject go. "And he had an ass that you want to just," she made squeezing motions with her fingers and giggled. "Charmin."

"You didn't even see his ass," Liz protested.

"No but judging from that look on your face, you saw his ass just fine."

"Aren't you dating Cruz?" Liz felt obligated to point out. "Remember the gorgeous latin detective who took you to Jamaica last month for a two week vacation in the private villa?"

"Hmm," Sam closed her eyes as a look of utter bliss crossed her features. "Aye Poppi." And all three women burst into laughter. They had both heard about the wonderful Cruz Rodrigeuz getaway and the hot sex on the beach in the moonlight sans details. Judging from Sam who walked around on cloud nine for the next weeks afterwards they didn't need to know the details to know that someone got their groove back.

Cruz was exactly what Sam deserved after that disatrous relationship with coffee importer Sonny Corinthos. After breaking her heart, they had all delighted in egging his favorite mazarate. The water in his fuel tank was their personal way of saying fuck you to the cheating adulteror. Imagine, dating Sam for six months without telling her he was still legally married to his estranged wife Lily.

What was worse was the fact that Lily was nice. A member of the hospital charity board, a mother to two children and really sweet, Sam had been appauled to realize she was inadvertently apart of hurting Lily Corinthos.

Cruz on the other hand adored Sam, had no problems with PDA's and most important, no wives former or otherwise waiting in the background.

"No really," Sam reached across the table and grabbed her arm, squeezing briefly, "You know I'm just teasing, right?"

"I know," she smiled.

"But I definitely think you should go after blue eyes. It would be good for you, just a little harmless fun. Besides, I saw the way he was looking at you."

"Was it desert?" Brenda asked around another strip of bacon.

"It was desert, she was oasis and he was ready to strip and dive in," Sam snickered.

There had been a moment. An intense moment when he looked like he wanted to drink her down like a tall cold glass of water but Liz just shrugged it off now. "I'm sticking with my game plan. No men and nothing's going to change my mind."

Not even Jason Morgan and his squeezably enticing ass.

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"What's up, man?"

Jason grunted at the familiar voice as he continued on through his set of reps on the bench press. Most of his mornings started down here at the Elm street gym where he worked out with his best friend and business partner.

The gym was on the seedier side of town, but he didn't mind. There were no women primping in skimpy leotards who seemed to be more interested in picking out husbands than excercising. There were no candy boys who looked like they couldn't squat more than two fifty and didn't know what an actual callus looked like.

Smith's was filled with men mostly like him, wanting to get in sometime on the free weights, maybe go a couple of rounds in the ring in the back room, hit the bag. Overhead was a track if he felt like running a couple of miles and there was even a pool in the basement. He wasn't subjected to that prissy bitch music, instead he could burn some muscle listening to a little Luda' and not have to worry about offending anyone.

"You need a spot?" Lucky stood over him briefly, already sweating in a black muscle t-shirt and baggy shorts. Lucky was probably in the back sparing just now, which was where he was headed after he finished his last circuit.

"No, I'm good," he set the bar down and sat up, wiping sweaty hands on his own grey shorts. He had stripped off his own shirt thirty minutes into his workout. "You headed to the Star after this?"

"Yeah, there's a liquor delivery coming in at ten. Gotta get there before the old man, else he'll swipe the good scotch for his personal stock." It was nothing unusual for Luke Spencer to make himself at home behind the bar, they were used to it. It became a game trying to outsmart the man.

"Before I left last night, I took the reciepts down to the bank. We should be clear on payroll for the next two weeks."

"Good. So, did you go back to Jake's and read after taking my last fifty dollars?" Lucky snorted laughter at his usual nightly activity, never believing he didn't take every woman that hit on him up on their offer of nightly sex.

He refused to think about the little nymph who had occupied his mind for most of the night. Evidently he didn't succeed. "See, I knew it," Lucky laughed, "So what's her name? Was it the blond that came on board the other night, what was her name? Skipper?"

Jason didn't resist the small smirk at his friends sense of humor, "Courtney and hell no, I'd rather fuck a duck."

"Your sexual preferences aside, Corky, Daffy," Lucky chuckled as he began his set of leg presses, "About the same mental intelligence. Besides it's sex, not a life long commitment."

"Did you see her arms in that dress?" Jason shuddered at the muscles that were more masculine than he'd ever allow wrapped around him. "You can keep the fem-bot. Besides she had visions of Quartermaines dancing around in her empty head." He much preferred soft, feminine. Exactly what Beth had been.

"Well if it isn't her, then who? And don't give me that nobody crap."

"Then what are we talking about," because there was no one. Beth was a good girl, he didn't do good girls. Good girls meant commitment and the end of hot wet naked sex up against the shower wall. Nice and soapy while he pounded inside her and she screamed his name out as she came around his dick like a tight fist. Or a quickie on the docks in the dark. Or braced against the hood of a car. And the fact that each one of these fantasies about his blue eyed nymph had played through his head last night meant jack shit.

Good girls eventually started making noises about him moving out of Jake's, where he was very comfortable. Then they wanted to go furniture shopping, though he did have his eye on a black leather couch, but it probably wouldn't fit in his room above the bar. And he wouldn't mind a pool table but that wasn't the point. She would want to move in, she would complain that he needed to get a real job and why wasn't he trying to make amends with his family.

Before he knew it, his motorcycle would be traded in for a Beamer, his leather jacket for wool and the noose around his neck was cutting off the circulation to both his little head and his big one.

"Fine," Lucky shrugged, "You know Emily called me again last night?"

Jason rolled his eyes, "I don't know why you don't just date her, she isn't going to let up on it." He knew his younger sister well and she was determined to date his best friend. She had dug in her heels and was in for the long haul.

Before she went off to California for college, Emily had been sweet, nice. A good kid despite their fucked up family. Emily four years later had turned into a stuck up bitch that he could barely stand to be around. The only time she seemed half way human was when she was around Lucky and that was because she knew Lucky wouldn't tolerate her phony shit.

"So you don't mind me boning your sister?" Lucky asked brutally and Jason had to frown at the mental image.

"Not that it's my business but if you can put up with her, knock yourself out. But could we keep words like boning out of the same sentence? I was actually looking forward to breakfast this morning." Jason took his towel and scrubbed through his damp hair, then draped it around his neck.

"Cool, I'll invite her to the Star tonight. Give her the thirty dollar tour."

Which meant dinner, dancing and comping Emily a couple of grand in chips for the tables. "Is that my cue to stay home for the evening? You know Quartermaines are like roaches, where you see one, there's bound to be others."

"Nah," Lucky laughed at the analogy, "I'll tell her to keep it to herself. Besides, who's going to keep an eye on Milo when Lulu comes aboard making a nuisance of herself."

He actually liked Lulu Spencer. Smart, spunky and cute, Lulu made it her life's mission to antagonize the security guard who had a crush on her. "Lu is just screwing with his head." Jason picked up his water bottle and took several long pulls before putting his hands on his hips. "Besides, she wants a job on the craps table, and the only way she'll learn is if someone trains her. You'll be too busy making eyes at Emily, your father can't be trusted with the till. Max is too nice to her, Milo swallows his tongue everytime he's in the same room with her."

"What would we Spencers do without you," Lucky batted his eyes like a bitch before grinning the trademark Spencer grin.

"You'd go broke and be back to scamming people again," Jason replied dryly. "I'll be down to the boat at noon, I have something to do first."

And he didn't even want to think about why he was going to spend his entire morning fixing his nymph's car. Especially when he'd just finish telling himself that good girls were, to coin Lucky's phrase, clearly in no bone territory.