A/N #1: Wow, people, how quickly an author can fall from grace in the world of fanfiction! It's time to make amends and appease you before this turns into a Funny Girl sex riot! I am almost finished with the Funny Girl number, but I needed some "release." So, here's a little sexy nugget to hold you over until dinner… If you feel so inclined, press the little Review button at the bottom. If not,… I'm losing patience with you! Haha… just kidding. But really…

A/N #2: I do not own these characters or Funny Girl. Sadly, all I own are the mistakes.

Chapter 3 (cont.): Funny Girl – Night Two

A Peace Offering… day and early evening of "My Man"

According to the evil, red glowing alarm clock in Rachel's room, it was 7:04 p.m. What was it with that time? Rachel had sent me to her room at 6:00 to change into a pale yellow dress she had set out for me and informed me that we would be having a special date downstairs. I was to get ready and remain in the room until the appropriate time if I was to be fed. She must have had this planned ahead of time because she handed me an envelope as I climbed the stairs. When I opened it, on a piece of elegantly etched paper was a typed invitation.

Ms. Rachel Barbra Berry

requests the presence of

Ms. Lucy Quinn Fabray

in the basement at Table One

for an unforgettable evening

beginning at 7:15

This morning Rachel had left me wet and wanting as she went downstairs to finish my "atrocity" of a breakfast. Needless to say the events did not quite play out like I expected they would. Instead of getting some hot action in the shower or perhaps on the bathroom countertop, I was forced to endure a lukewarm shower that turned to cold as I shaved my legs, seeing as that most of the hot water was wasted during our near sexcapade. Sure, some might have called her a TEASE; some might have called her a meanie; some might have called it wrong how she left me without pleasing me; and some might have called it downright cruel and mean. I, however, called it Rachel Berry seeks revenge against my former evil cheerleader self. She never let me live down my infamous, "It's all about the teasing and not about the pleasing!" quote in Celibacy Club, and her revenge came in true eye-for-an-eye fashion.

Following my horrid shower, Rachel and I sat and ate breakfast together, discussing the plans for the day. I knew better than to complain out my need for release because my girlfriend would simply make me wait just that much longer. I also knew that I would have to trust that she wouldn't torture me for too long. We were practically finished with our meals when I, again, sought a tiny bit of revenge for being left high and anything but dry this morning. (Why I do this to myself is a mystery. Maybe I'm a masochist…) Rachel left the breakfast bar to rinse her plate at the sink. Taking my last piece of bacon, I snuck up behind her and dangled the piece of "poor swine flesh—their mothers sing to them while nursing, you know—," threatening to touch her with it. She darted from between the sink and my body, running around the island until I cornered her between the refrigerator and the wall.

"Quinn," she said in a low, drawn out, authoritative voice, "Don't do it, Quinn."

I kissed her fiercely, and then lightly smacked the bacon across her cheek. She shrieked and ran off to the bathroom, no doubt scrubbing the abomination from her skin. After she was thoroughly cleansed, she caught me off guard as I was washing the pans when she smacked me hard on my rear end, chuckling viciously when I yelped. Sweet Cheesus! That woman did not fight fairly.

This morning when Rachel said she had a busy day planned for us, it turned out she was right. After breakfast, we made our way to the Lima mall. She wanted to buy a few new outfits for National's that was coming up. I should've refused the offer to go into the dressing room with her "to provide much essential feedback on her outward appearance." It took her 17 minutes to try on all of two options. It took us another 18 to stop groping one another before a saleswoman addressed us from just outside the door.

"Um, excuse me, ladies, we're going to have to ask you to stop what you're doing and exit the dressing room. There are other customers who require its use."

"Be right out," Rachel called, "I was having trouble with a zipper!"

She giggled at the fact that what she said was true—she had pulled down the zipper of my jeans about 10 minutes in, and we couldn't for the life of us get it to rise up to its original position.

"Rachel," I hissed in a harsh whisper, "Fix it! Please!"

Not only did that fiasco cause embarrassment as we both came out of the fitting room at the same time, but it also didn't have any form of happy ending for me. My hormones were raging like a real New Jersey housewife who ran out of her favorite wine in a box.

Following our four and a half hour mall adventure, Rachel was the proud owner of three new ensembles and I was simply owned by my own horniness. I had to endure my girlfriend practically performing a strip tease in six dressing rooms that ended each time with her groping me wildly during intense make out sessions. I've said it once, I'll say it again… Fuck. My. Life. She managed to fire me up to a frenzy as she toyed with me and my weakness—her.

"Quinnie, be a doll and help me pull down my skirt. My hands seem to be too clumsy. I believe you'd help me most effectively if you were on your knees."

"Quinn, I can't seem to zip this front zipper, and it would appear as if I need assistance. If I lift my shirt up, can you see what you can do?"

"Sweetie, it seems my breasts are lost in this oversized sweater. Could you feel around and make sure they're still there?"

And the fucking icing on the cake wreck of my life, "Quinnie, I'm afraid these jeans will be too tight on my womanhood. Will you slide your hand here and make sure there's enough room? Oh, I'm sorry. Did your hand get wet?"

After the shameless scheming of my totally hot girlfriend, my only hope was that we could head home so she could ravage me on the side table of the hallway, just inside the door. That would be as far as I would make it. But, really, who was I kidding? Rachel wouldn't make this easy on me… she never did when it came to teasing.

From the mall, we made our way to a local floral shop. What she needed flowers for was beyond me and when I asked her, she responded with an award-winning monologue that professed the true romanticism of flora and the mental and spiritual benefits of aligning your thoughts with Mother Nature through the blossoms of the Earth. Shoot me. During the explanation regarding the truth behind a peace lily's name, I tuned out and just stared at the hypnotizing appeal of her lips. They moved so fluidly, together and apart, together and apart… I wondered if they'd be moving so smoothly tonight over my… Damn it, Fabray! No wonder you've got a constant need down there. Keep your damn eyes off of her perfect lips.

A couple of brief stops and a last at the post office put the cherry on top of my frustrated sundae—every goddamn time she got out of the car, she managed to drop her keys upon exit, giving me a sneak peak of just how wet she was from our shopping mall rendezvous.

So now, here I was sexually frustrated, still sore from the previous evening's activities, and in the beginning stages of starvation—we hadn't eaten lunch. Nothing like a trifecta to start my "unforgettable evening." I turned to the look at myself in the mirror one more time. My hair was straightened and the yellow dress hugged my body well. Smoothing my hands over the fabric, I glanced at the red numbers again—7:14. "Showtime," I thought… and boy was I right.

I descended the basement stairs in near darkness. The only light was found from the flickering candle placed on what I assumed was 'Table One.' The flowers Rachel bought earlier graced the table as well, looking stunning against the white table cloth. The setting looked beautiful. Rachel sometimes surprised me with how sweet she could be when it came to romance. On the stage sat the ever so faithful karaoke machine and microphone, and in the sitting area, a projector and the movie screen were poised and waiting. My mind immediately thought of Funny Girl, but then I remembered that pay back was scheduled for our traditional movie nights. I sighed a bit of relief.

As I moved closer to the table that was actually larger than I originally thought, I noticed the detail on the table—the elegant places, the crystal glasses, silver utensils, and long white table cloth. A name card in gold cursive writing indicated where I should sit. I pulled the chair out and sat down. The clock on the wall said 7:15. Fabrays are always on time. My eyes were scanning the room for Rachel, but to my disappointment she wasn't anywhere to be seen. Waiting was never an action at which I particularly excelled, so in an anxious display, I rapped my fingertips on the tabletop in front of me. No sooner than my fingers had finished one four-tap cycle, I felt something brush my ankle. What the hell? Maybe I was imagining that, but just seconds after the first touch, I felt another—light and soft. I looked around nervously wondering if Rachel had a cat I didn't know about. But then with a third, firmer touch, my eyes widened with understanding. Those were Rachel's lips… Holy shit! Rachel's under the table?

The shock wore off quickly as the next kiss was pressed to the inside of my left calf. I had no idea where this was coming from, but I really, really hoped I knew where it was going. I placed both of my hands flat on the table top and shut my eyes as I imagined what she looked like under the table on her knees.

My imagination wasn't letting me down as her hands entered the tender assault. Her fingertips swirled around and over my kneecaps, keeping her lips and tongue busy as they traced each of my shins. I, for fear that I would somehow manage to screw myself into not getting some release, kept my mouth shut and endured the pleasant agony in silence. As if Rachel read my mind, her sexy voice travelled from under the table. The breath from her words washed over the skin between my knees.

"Baby, I've kept you waiting all day, and while I enjoy seeing you flustered, the guilt is killing me. You will come in the next ten minutes, Quinn. And I need you to tell me how you're feeling. Can you do that for me, Sweetie? You know how I love feedback on my performances."

Yes! Fuck, yes! I love you, I love you, I love you! "Yes, Rachel, I can tell you how it feels."

"Good girl, Quinnie. Also, do me a favor and don't lift the table cloth… use your imagination."

"Already done, baby."

I felt her smile into the inside of my left knee as her lips fell against my skin once more. The contact was broken, and I almost whined my disapproval, but the rule-follower in me fought against it. I was finally going to be taken care of and damned be anything that would stop that from happening. Her touch was reinstated when the fingertips that were swirling earlier hooked around to the backs of my knees as she gently slid my lower half down the chair. My dress was folded further up my thighs as her fingers dipped into the waistband of the cotton that remained the last barrier between my lady and my woman. Slowly, the garment slid down to my ankles, and Rachel lifted each of my feet from it, but not without placing a hot open-mouth kiss to the insides of both ankles. She placed them on the carpet and brought her hands to the inside of my thighs.

After a few lazy circles, her palms flattened to the outside and tenderly spread my legs outward. I felt her body nuzzle between my wide open appendages and I shuddered as a fingertip swiped at my wetness that was sure to be evident upon sight.

"Mmm, Baby, your taste…" rose from under the table cloth and I could hear the sucking noise she was making on her finger.

"Please, Rachel, my body needs you." I spoke honestly. At this point I was about to hump the damn leg of the table if I didn't come. Her gentle touches were pushing me quickly toward my goal, but I was wanted that tongue. Thank my lucky stars, her tongue wanted me, too.

The warm heat that parted my folds sent a jolt through me and my hands gripped the cloth beneath them. Her talented muscle dragged its length from my entrance to my ever-so-needing clit. On first touch of my stiffening bud, I moaned out more powerfully than I thought possibly.

"O-oh, Rachel, yes, baby."

Spurred on by my words, Rachel wrapped her lips around the bundle of nerves and sucked firmly, pulsing her sucks with what seemed like my heartbeat.

"Fuck," I breathed out.

She released her lips and spoke, accentuating each word with a lick to my slit, "Feel…good,… Quinnie?

"Yes, so good. Only you make me feel this good."

"Aww, Sweet Girl. I think that deserves something in return."

Her tongue immediately traveled to where I loved it most… inside. She plunged with a purpose into my wet heat and was greeted by more of my arousal. She pulled her tongue from me and lapped at the smooth liquid. Swallowing all she could, she thrust the muscle once more and set a steady pace sure to please me.

"That's it, Rachel. Oh, so good, baby. Oh shit…"

Her speed increased as my hips bucked responsively. Somewhat pinned between the chair and table, I could only slightly rock them in rhythm, but I've come to find that Rachel's tongue can pretty much handle my needs itself. She slowed again and licked a broad stripe with her flattened tongue, connecting with my clit. My breath caught at the touch and I almost came.

"Now, Quinnie," she spoke assertively, bringing her thumb to rub tight circles on my clit, no doubt to placate me in her tongue's absence. "In about one minute, I'm going to ask you to come around my tongue. I want to feel that rough spot clench on me and I do expect to hear you scream my name. Am I clear?"

Willing myself to hold back my orgasm at her words alone, (her voice was sexy as fuck) I choked out a response.

"Yes, Rachel, crystal clear."

"Who's Crystal, Quinnie? Do I need to remind you to whom you belong?" she asked playfully.

"No, Rachel, only yours… will only ever be yours."

"Good girl."

With a chuckle, she dipped her tongue in me again and set a furious pace, deepening each thrust until her tongue curled and touched against my roughened patch.

"A-ah!"

"There it is…"

Her fingers continued circling and pinching and rubbing at my aching hooded nub while her tongue beat against my spot rhythmically. She felt my tight hole clench tighter and scraped the fingernails of her free hand down my thigh, never relenting her savage pattern on my clit. I was close… so close.

"Please, Baby, so close… mmm!"

Instantly, vibrations were pulsing from her tongue straight to my pussy as I realized she was moaning into me. I gripped the cloth beneath my fingers as hard as could to keep from reaching down and holding her face tight to my core.

"Fuck! Oh, yes…"

The contact was instantly lost and she called out desperately, "Come for me, Quinn!"

At that her tongue was inside me, hard against my rough and clenching pussy; she moaned like a goddamn porn star; and pinched my clit firmly.

"Ahhh, RAACHELL!"

I screamed at the top of my lungs not because she had instructed me to do so earlier, but because my orgasm took over my brain function and clearly, that was the name on its lips. She stayed deep inside me until the waves of contractions calmed and she had swallowed all that I gave her. Her fingers kept a gentle massaging pace until I slumped further in my chair. She ran her hands up and down my legs as I broke back into real world consciousness. When my body gained control, I release the table cloth and I felt Rachel fold down my dress once again. She obviously saw no need for replacing my underwear because as soon as the dress was down, she crawled sexily from under the table and stood in front of me.

I almost passed out again as I took in the sight of her. Rich brown, loose curls fell over her shoulders that were clad with an oversized white, long-sleeved collared dress shirt buttoned twice in the middle, and from between the gaping fabric below her waist, greeted me a perfectly shaped 8-inch silicone appendage.

As Rachel took in my gaping mouth and hungry eyes, she whispered the words I wasn't expecting to hear until next week.

"It's time to pay up, Quinnie…"

A/N