21

(Rachel)

"Rachel!" Santana shouted me for the umpteenth time only in the morning. "Bring the computer cable! It's on my chair!"

I took a deep breath and counted to 20. Santana was making me crazy with this sudden needy. She left the hospital two days ago after the surgery to reconstruct the ligament tib... tibio... something. I couldn't stop shooting when it happened (She was hospitalized less than 24 hours), but for Santana it was an outrage. The end of the world. And just because of that, she was punishing me. I made her wait a bit. I calmly finished to organize my purse, so I went to her room and took the damn cable from the computer, follow up to the living room where Santana was working in Rock'n'Pano and watched Discovery channel at the same time. The coffee table had a tray with juice, water, cookies and pieces of two types of gouda cheese. Her ankle was immobilized, her crutches were close so she could move around the house as she pleased. The only recommendation was that she couldn't stay long with her leg down because it could be painful. The more rest, the less pain. I threw the cables on her.

"What's your problem?" She complained as if she had every reason in the world.

"At this moment: your childishness and laziness."

"How the invalids suffer on this inhuman society..." she wanted to test all the limits of my patience.

"Andrew should arrive shortly to spend the day with you. Make an effort and at least go answer the door to your ex-boyfriend."

"You're a very bad person!" She crossed her arms playing the victim.

"You're a pain in the ass, Santana Berry-Lopez. No wonder that Quinn ran out."

"Your fiancé is a spiteful, selfish and uncharitable blonde. But at least she was in the hospital... She and Mike and Johnny and Andrew! But not you! My only family here!"

"For the umpteenth time, I couldn't leave the set!" So I had an idea. I climbed the three steps ladder that we use to reach the highest parts of the shelf and went straight to the rare vinyl of Alanis. Santana took months to find it and paid $300. Incidentally, I paid it.

"Rachel..." Her eyes widened. "Watch yourself of what you will do with this."

"Let's say it is confiscated... until you start to show a little more respect."

"You would not do this evil."

"Try it... you're currently on crutches with your foot immobilized and unable to reach me."

"I can hit you with my crutch."

"I make your vinyl as shell."

"I hate you!" She said idly, rolling her eyes. I could only smile.

"Stay well rude girl. If you need anything, call me." I kissed her cheek and left for work.

I was shooting the penultimate episode of the series and my schedule in set would be over in two weeks. Then we would have to do some press work in September, which wasn't yet closed with calendar. I knew that I would have to go to Los Angeles for a week to the interviews and premiere. I was also on standby to do the interview by phone and internet when needed. And there would be a party in Los Angeles and another one in New York. The truth is that I still won't appear on talk shows because the general audience didn't know me that well. I'm the strange girl from Broadway for now. But this was a condition that I would soon change.

Apart from the play, I was also in negotiation to join the filming of "The Widows of Eastwick," which was a TV movie. Was a secondary role that would take me basically two weeks of filming. But this debut in films in production with great actresses, even knowing that it was for TV, it was a good thing. I still needed to audition for it and, hopefully, sigh the contract. At least my career began to move because of my Tony nomination. I wasn't a star, yet, but I was making my name. I still had, of course, my new off-Broadway musical play "What Would David Bowie Do".

Between one thing and another, I had my personal life and a wedding to plan. But I needed to resolve some conflicts. The first is that my wedding would be held in secret. Although my castmates knew I lived with my girlfriend and Santana, this part of my life would have to be more guarded as possible. Nina thinks that I should declare myself bisexual after my wedding if people start to wonder about me and Quinn, but never (at least for now) couldn't come out before my 30s. It sucks a lot.

Quinn and I talked very seriously about it. We agreed to keep it secret so far. My twenty's are the peak of the career of any actress in Hollywood and we would stop to see what was rolling at that time. Adjustments would be made in the process. At the most, next year I and Quinn would be the way to the altar in our quiet ceremony for just family and a few friends.

But while none of this happened, what I had to do was take care of my most immediate tasks: shooting Slings and Arrows and, at intervals, to plan Quinn's surprise party in the best American tradition: get drunk in a pub. She had already bought our tickets to see "The Lion King", then we'd to the theater, we would eat at the restaurant, but instead of romantic stroll I should take her to the live music bar where our friends would be in waiting.

"Berry!" Boris Yves caught my attention so I got the set. He was responsible for directing the last two episodes of Slings. "You're late. Makeup and hair now!"

"Yes, sir!" I ran to the dressing room where the girls were waiting.

We were shooting Hamlet itself. We would play an entire act in the presence of a genuine audience. And I was late. The girls worked quickly on my hair, the makeup was even faster and barely turned on the side and my dress was already hanging on the door. I changed clothes right there and ran to the stage. While people were occupying the seats under the guidance of production, Tom met the entire cast at center stage for the latest instructions. First we would play for real. Then we would do the specific shots.

I breathed deeply. Luis was the only actor on stage that played Shakespeare before. Others, like May and George, wouldn't being in scene this time. I was a musical actress dong my first piece of Shakespeare. We couldn't do wrong. I went to the aisle and I took a deep breath . I made my prayer and my ritual before going on stage for the first time. A short stretch on the neck, cracked fingers and three little hops. A blow and action. Rachel Berry-Lopez wasn't there anymore. It was time to be the tragic Ophelia. I forgot everything, that it was just a television show and no matter what the act was staged only 20 minutes. The stage was the most sacred place for an actor and everyone knew it, even those who have never done theater. Stepping it demanded worthiness and respect. So I was Ophelia and Luis was the prince Hamlet. We did our best and when the end of the speech act was told by Luis: spontaneous applause. The audience stood and ecstasy took hold. It was impossible to explain in words the effect that the applause caused in an actor. It was like a drug, alcohol, tobacco. You received one dose of emotion and it took care of your body like a good chill. Actors joined in the center and bow down to thank. I was so high!

When we left the scene, both May and Boris came to greet us, they were satisfied with the result. Rom gave me a firm kiss on the lips, but I didn't care. I was so high, still affected by adrenaline. I didn't even realize the presence of the press who was invited by the producers as a way to publicize the show. It may not have been the best Hamlet, but it served the purpose and also to take advantage of some of nostalgia I felt in working for a present and warm audience.

"20 minutes." Boris shouted.

It was the time that the audience would leave the theater and take with them a kit from the show. There were a t-shirt, an adhesive, a moleskin, a pen with HBO's logo, a general information brochure and a game of origami that you rode a cube with pictures of the cast. The same material would be given to the press. It was pretty cute, so I got some to give as gift to my relatives. I've already had my own t-shirt.

"Rachel Berry!" A reporter approached. "Do you have five minutes?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Cool. So how is going the show?"

"Perfect. It's a great experience and the production is fabulous."

"And you and Rom began your relationship while filming?"

"Rom is my friend!" I answered carelessly. Where did she get this idea?

"How is your relationship between castmates?"

"May the best is a great actor and a teacher for the younger ones. I hadn't the pleasure to act with George in many scenes, but he is lovely and extremely professional, and Jane is a person of great kindness and humility." These three formed the great triad of the main cast and they were the most experienced ones.

"Who are the rioters?"

"Rom is machiavellian. He's always making jokes and pranks."

"What being part of a series produced by Yves and Boris represents to you?"

"Carton is a fantastic director with an extraordinary career. It's an honor to have the unique opportunity to learn from him. I just had to win, for sure. Boris is one of the most professional and courteous people with an actor..."

"Rachel!" One of the assistants caught my attention. "Five minutes to go!"

I excuse me from the journalist and went to take care of my business.

…

(Quinn)

I was awakened with a series of kisses on my neck and face. It was good to wake up with this good feeling and a nice shiver down the spine. I brought Rachel's face next to mine and I got a delicious kiss on the mouth. I let Rachel take the initiative and see what she had in mind. I felt her hands under my oversize T-shirt and go towards my breasts in an excruciating slowness. She took off my clothes and stopped a little bit to see the view.

"You are truly gorgeous!" She said almost breathless, and I felt a blush in my face.

"You are…"

"Shhh!" She put her finger in my lips to silence me. And then smiled as she moved to my top and started massaging my breasts.

Rachel still stood on the bed with my hips between her legs, started a got on her knees with my body between their legs and made a strange streap tease to take off her top tank. She could seduce me even if she had wrapped in cardboard. I swear! She stood up to take her panties off, but didn't allow me to touch her. In silence she was saying that I should enjoy the show above me. She returned to her knees and sit down again almost in the same position. Rachel kissed me again from the lips and going to the south. She paid particular attention to my breasts and my stomach. I didn't have Santana's abs, but I would say I'm in shape and Rachel loves it. Her tongue traversing my abdomen, searching my muscles, made me crazy. When she reached my panties, she bites it with her teeth and started to pull it down. I almost had an orgasm just to see her doing this. Then she began a tortuous, slow climb massaging and kissing my legs.

"Rachel… please…" I was already wet, desperate to be touched.

"Shhh!" She looked at me and smiled. Rachel wouldn't give in to my pleas.

I felt her coming in, now kissing my crotch. I opened legs waiting to feel that mouth and tongue in place where needed must, but Rachel looked up, smiled and gave me a kiss on the mouth before rolling to the side and sit on the edge of the bed. What the fuck!

"Rach!" I whispered desperate and frustrated. She smiled and opened the naughty nightstand drawer on her side and picked up a bottle. It seemed an oil

"Massage." She poured some cold oil on my belly. "I read the other day that this type of massage helped with orgasm." She began working her hands and I rolled my eyes in pleasure. Oh, God. Yes. Massage! "I bought the oil and waited a moment special to experience it."

"Hummmmm." It was all I could say. Wherever was that she read about these techniques, my fiancé learned it to the perfection, as was typical of her.

Her hands glided easily over my body, my breasts, my belly, my thighs, up in arms. When she finally started to massage my clit almost exploded. I was pounding like crazy. She worked on my clit good, with both hands and the feeling was even unbelievable. I had an orgasm. Rachel didn't stop. There were still things to do in this massage. Then she started working on my entrance, massaging it all, and I didn't even know what I was feeling, but it was fantastic.

"Oh God. Rachel!" I was almost screaming when she finally penetrated me. I opened my legs so wide, wanting to give her every possible access My breath was panting. It was hard to control myself with Rachel working her hands and fingers that way.

"Try to relax more, Quinn, is tight here." Her voice was gentle, but what she wanted? The way it was working in my vagina, I could only be so. Then I had my second orgasm and she didn't stop.

It was amazing how intense waves of pleasure went through my whole body. Rachel has given me thousands orgasms before, but that time was, so far, the best one. Blessed massage. She continued working in my vagina, her fingers were moving in an unusual way. She wasn't trying to go deeper, but what she was doing. God! I felt the third orgasm coming. No… multiple. And it blow.

I think I passed out for a moment or something, because the world seems to have stopped. When I regained consciousness, Rachel was with her hand on my knees and looking funny at me, as if something extraordinary happened.

"You ejaculated!" Rachel was kind of shocked.

I looked at my low parts. Her hands were really wet and so the sheet. This had never happened before, and I didn't know I was capable of ejaculating. I had read about it on the Internet: not all women are able to do so, and even among those that couldn't be guaranteed that it always would happen. Rachel never did it, and I was sure that I fucked her really good every time we had sex. Suddenly, I was ashamed and covered my face.

"I'm sorry, Rachel. It must be disgusting."

"Not at all. I'm just surprised." Then she linked her fingers and murmured in pleasure. What a vision! "It's good! You are all good, Quinn Fabray. Wanna a taste?" She put her finger in my mouth. I tasted my own fluids mixed with the oil. The result wasn't bad. Rachel lay down on me to kiss me sensually and said in my ear. "Happy birthday, my Greek goddess."

"May I have a request?"

"You are the birthday girl."

"May I taste your juice?" Rachel raised her eyebrows. "I need you to relocate further up because I'm too lazy to move."

"Do you want that I ride your face?"

"Please, Rachel. I need to taste you."

She kissed me again before reposition on the top. I helped her to stand, and used my hands to help her in rhythm. Rachel couldn't ejaculate, but she was so wet that she was dripping. I licked all her slit a few times before start to suck her clit. She was vocal and I loved her for it. And when I felt she was close, I entered her with my tongue I tried sucking her vagina the best I could with the movement she made on her hips.

"Quinn!" She came. So delicious.

"I want more." I said laying her down and going to her top.

"How much?"

"Much more."

I penetrated her with my fingers. I could use my strap-on and fucked her senseless, but the occasion didn't have home for toys and extras. I didn't know the massage technique, but what a hell: I loved to thrust my fingers in her and try to go deeper, faster. I loved to feel her walls reacting and getting incredible thigh. And I loved to fuck her while kissing and sucking her boobs, her neck. Or putting her on fours to try to go even deeper. I just loved it.

I kissed her sensually as my hand worked. I felt she was close by how her vaginal muscles contracted against my fingers, how she was panting and threw her head back, giving me access to all her neck.

"Quinn!" She came again, digging her nails into my back. That was how I liked: Rachel breathlessly screaming my name. We kissed and exchanged small caresses, enjoying the special morning.

"Happy Birthday, Quinn." Rachel said smiling. "I love you."

"I love you more, my beautiful fiancé."

Reluctantly we got up, put our robes and took a quick shower before we're ready for the real world. I put my usual work clothes: jeans, blouse and sandals. New York was hot this time of year and I couldn't wear my usual dresses to not be worry with my movements while managing the camera, and working with the crew to adjust everything. According to the schedule, this was the penultimate day of shooting and I needed money. My wedding was coming.

I walked out of my room and came across a surprise: Rachel had also ordered a full breakfast and she held a beautiful bouquet of red roses. I was thrilled: I rarely received roses.

"The bitch queen bee can also melt… cute." Santana came out of her room already teasing me. Then, she gave me a side hug because of the crutches. "I bought a souvenir for you... it arrived yesterday in the mail and I didn't have time to wrap... Well, I was too lazy to wrap!" And handed me a bag.

Santana was a bitch most of the time, but this girl knew when she wanted to appeal: she gave me the Clint Eastwood Collection Box with 35 movies. It was just perfect.

"Wonderful, Santana." Rachel complained. "Now my musicals won't be played anymore."

"Project of Barbra, I spent my entire life watching your stupid musicals. That Maria from West Side Story, which you identifies with her, is a moron and makes me sick. Barbra? I can't stand her thanks for you. So give me, us, a break. Clint is more exciting!"

"Watch out or I change your analgesic pills for flour."

"I have crutches. It costs nothing gives it in your head."

And these were the sisters Berry-Lopez that I genuinely loved: always discussing like children. We made our meal in peace: I had all my favorites: apple pie, cranberry juice, toast with butter and oregano, cheddar cheese and... ham. Only even on my birthday to open them except with the rule of "pork doesn't enter this house."

"Theatre at seven?" I asked Rachel before she left home

"I'll be here around six so we could go together." She gave me a quick kiss before running to work.

"Who is staying here with you today?"

"I don't need a babysitter if you are unsure, Fabray!" Santana muttered, then spoke softly. "Mike must spend part of the day here... maybe Johnny."

"Good girl. Try not to burn the house down, ok?" One of the medications get Santana o little stoned for a while, hence our concern to not leave her alone. At least, not in the week that she would have to taking this medicine in particular.

I took a cab and went to the West 4th Street in Greenwich Village, meeting point of the team. It was a special occasion because none other than the photographer Don Hunstein was interviewed on the street where he photographed Dylan and his girlfriend at that time, and it become the cover of the anthology album "The Freewheelin 'Bob Dylan", considered one of the most important in history. Mr. Hunstein was also admired by the collection of close-ups and portraits he photographed of important people such as Miles Davis, Johnny Cash, Aretha Franklin and Billie Holiday. Yes, I was a fan and I was looking forward to the meeting.

"Good morning wonderful birthday girl." Monica was the first to greet me with a kiss on my cheek. The rest of this team also congratulated me quickly.

"Thank you guys. Alan has not arrived yet?"

"He was personally riding Hunstein here. They should be coming." Nate, who was my assistant answered.

Meanwhile, we set up the equipment and I started my job since Lewis, the official cinematographer, knew nothing of it. He thought it was a matter of shooting angle, which by the way, he had good ideas. But he knew nothing of the technical side and that was my job. That's why Alan hired me in the first place. I had to indicate the best place to shoot and control the light and then, deal with the camera. Alan had said he wanted to do the interview in moving then needed to establish the direction they should walk with the most favorable angle. When our director and Mr. Hunstein arrived by taxi, we all applauded the old master. Just a little reverence to somebody with the brightest career. I couldn't resist and kissed his hand.

"Too bad I'm not fifteen years younger, girl." He grinned and touched my face. "You wouldn't escape me." I was red and honored.

Alan began to do the interview and the crew made a fantastic job so it could be worth in the first take. Hunstein was one of the last interviewed and I was thrilled by him and even neglected from my job at a time just to listen to the memories of that old gentleman. Eric, the sound engineer, was also amazed. He was a diehard fan. Monica was working hard and very well. The team had water, snacks, all necessary permits in hand. Everything was correct.

The team said goodbye happy to have the money in hand this week. I earned $300 and took a cab to go home. Funny thing: Santana was stoned on the couch.

"Well you told me..." Mike greeted me with a hug and a kiss on my cheek. "Happy Birthday Quinn." He went to the shelf and picked up a package. "It's just a little gift."

The package was the size of a shoebox. When I opened it, it was a shoe. The one I had seen weeks ago and commented to Rachel that I found it wonderful, but my money was already too compromised.

"A gift with Rachel finger..." I smiled and hugged him again.

"I called her because I didn't know what to buy, so she gave me all coordinates with a wealth of stunning details."

"Oh, and you bought the lunch."

"Santana asked Mexican food." And the person in question was already sleeping in the couch.

"Oh, come on, she can't. It's too heavy for her stomach."

"Look, you know how to deal with Santana Berry-Lopez, but I'm still very afraid of her. She can be very mean when she didn't get what she wants."

"True… She's not easy."

With Santana sleeping, Mike and I took the opportunity to talk with more quality. Mike said Johnny was about to leave his apartment in the Bronx and asked to stay a few days in his place until rent another one. Apparently Johnny was taken aback by the landlord who sold the property and the new owner gave her a week to move out. Mike accepted Johnny because he was unable to let a friend that helpless. At the most, Mike said he was thinking seriously about going to Los Angeles. Matter of chance. He wasn't that pleased with his career on theater or as advertisement actor.

"Perhaps you will find the woman of your life in Los Angeles." I tried to be positive. I remembered his confession when he thought I was asleep and said he loved me for real. Since then I tried to act naturally with him, but it was hard to be with a great friend knowing he want me in silence. I put myself in Mike's shoes, Indeed, I suffer it back in McKinley High when I was in love with Rachel but couldn't say anything. It's not easy.

"Quinn, a man shouldn't think of marrying until turning 30. I'm 22, so eight more years to prove all women I can."

"Ah yes, the rule of 30..."

"Truth! There are many beauties to be discovered here or in Los Angeles."

"Sure..."

"And now you will go out of the market." There was some bitterness underneath the playful tone.

"Who sees you talking like that can think I'm a player!"

"Sorry! Trauma. I've lost some prey only because you were by my side. Even the straight girls want you and this is very unfair."

"Too bad I only want one girl."

"Yeah. To bad!"

Santana woke up of the 20 minutes nap and she was already in working mood. Rock'n'Pano was officially open and Santana was working hard on it. She had a little time to dedicated exclusively of her company since on the end of August stars another semester on Columbia and on September she starts working on Weiz Co. She had to sign a contract and everything. I was sorry for Santana. She would start to be trained to deal with billions. That was too much.

Rachel came home early from work. We took a shower and settle in for our special day. First we saw "The Lion King", which is my favorite animation movie close by The Incredibles. Sometimes, Rachel called me 'her Simba'… in bed… when I was her Lion King. Oh Jesus, it sounded really butch. Anyway, Rachel have never had the opportunity to check out the theatrical version, so she was delighted. She was a great admirer of Julie Taymor and wished one day to work with her in the theater.

"The choreography is fantastic. It's one of the best on Broadway today." Rachel said holding my arm when we were on the way to the restaurant.

"It is…" I looked to her and she raised an eyebrow as if to warn me to be careful with my criticism. "... very exciting." I wouldn't want to spark a discussion with Rachel on my birthday, especially after that legendary wake up. It just made me wonder how we would end the day.

At Havana Central Times Square (the restaurant wasn't what I wanted, but Rachel insisted on a place closer to the theater), she asked for a vegetarian salad with Cuban spice that cost an eye and a liver. To drink: green wine. Well at least we enjoyed the romantic atmosphere of the restaurant.

"I think it's time to give you my birthday present." Rachel smiled. When she did, it seemed the world stopped. For the sake of Jesus Christ, as it was lovely.

She pulled out a little box and opened it in front of me. It was a ring very similar of her engagement one.

"I thought it wasn't fair that only I had an engagement ring. Both of us deserve it. And as we talked, our relationship is a partnership, of complicity, mutual support, and especially love. Following this principle, Lucy Quinn Fabray, accepted this engagement ring, so not only I will be your wife next year, as you will also be mine." I didn't know how big my smile was, I just know that tears started running from my face as she put the jewelry on my finger and then kissed my hand.

We ate our meals in peace, and this meal was one of the best I have enjoyed in my life. It was my best birthday yet. After the restaurant, Rachel put me in a cab and said there was a second part of the surprise. I immediately suspected what it was as soon as Rachel began sending text messages. We stopped in front of a little, but charming pub with live music. I smiled to myself and shook my head. Rachel couldn't have been more obvious. When we entered, a large group of people began to clap and sing happy birthday. Mike was holding a cake with a picture of a handcuff. Nothing like the symbolism!

I started complimenting one by one. The entire crew of the documentary was there. And also Roger Benz, Santiago and some of my friends from NYU, Santana and her crutches, and Johnny. I didn't even see the cake being cut off. I just know that Rachel took a piece with both hands and shoved it into my mouth in the best wedding style. I saw that Santana was more withdrawn, sitting at desk with feet up drinking a coca-cola. In fact, she couldn't drink because of her medication. Then Rachel took the stage that served for occasional performances by bands or the karaoke night, and took the microphone.

"My dear friends, that gorgeous blonde is 21 today and tradition tells she need have in hand a Dry Manhattan now." Mike made a favor and put the drink in my hand. My friends only quieted when I drank it all at once. Satisfied, Rachel spoke again. "Now, a song in tribute to my girl."

I couldn't believe when the band started playing the guitars distorted way and then bringing them together in a heavy touch, almost punk, but more melodic. Rachel then began a provocative dance. "So messed up I want you here/ in my room I want you here/ now we're gonna be face-to-face/ and I'll lay right down in my favorite place/ and now I wanna be your dog/ now I wanna be your dog/ now I wanna be your dog/ well c'mon."

That was one of the songs that Santana said it was a "call to fuck." I didn't like the Stoogers, but Rachel's performance left me on fire. Oh yes, I would make Rachel be my dog. I would put her on her fours and fuck her good with my strap-on. I was so mesmerized that I had a tremendous shock when Johnny put a bag of ice in my head.

"What the hell is this!" I complained.

"It's for you to cool down a bit, otherwise you will tear Rachel clothes in front of everyone."

Johnny was right. I was so glazed on Rachel that I could have sex with her on that tiny stage and wouldn't become aware of the crowd around. The party continued into the night, where I basically danced with Rachel most of the time. Santana left early with Johnny's help, I think. It really sucked being at a party and not be able to drink or dance. And that pub wasn't the best place to have long or deep conversations.

"You didn't you say your girlfriend, Rachel, was the Broadway star Rachel Berry." Monica surprised me at a time when I was taking another drink at the bar.

"Do you know her?"

"I saw 'Across The Universe' a couple of times. What a presence she has! She is a great singer."

"Yes, she is."

"I'm her fan! What an amazing voice, a true talent."

"Look, you're making me jealous!" I played with her.

"You guys have been together a long time, isn't it?"

"Three years."

"This is commendable. Hardly we have news of a lasting relationship of any artist. Not a genuine one anyway."

"Genuine?"

"Yes, the real ones. Not those that are worth a contract. You do know these exist, right?"

"I just heard about..."

"Congratulations again, Quinn. You're a lucky girl. Rachel must really like you to remain faithful."

What a strange talk, but soon I distracted by the party in progress. I returned to the group of friends where Rachel was laughing for some reason. Then leaned suggestively to Rachel. It was time to go. I didn't want to get drunk to the point to lost my night with her.

"How about we finish this party at our place?" She smiled easily. I grabbed our things and left the pub. Our party would continue in private.

…

Author note:

I would like to thanks to all followers and the ones who favorited the Saga. But my special thanks for the ones who write reviews. And a special thanks for ichigo111981 and Gleek1. You guys are the best! :-)

I'm in hurry because I need to take a flight. I will be back in two weeks.