Dramatis Personae: Mal, Polly, Margolotta, Lofty, Tonker, Angua, Sally, Ella, Susan, Adora Belle. OCs, including an igor (briefly mentioned).
Rating: E
Warning: See pre-amble, below. Not Work Safe.

Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with Terry Pratchett or Discworld.
Notes:Okay, a while back, Latin_Doll posted a fic "in the grand Cheesemongers tradition of pairing Mal with everything that moves". The wording of which (coupled with the musings of Latin_Doll and Hyel in the comments section) I took as a personal challenge to actually *try* to pair Mal with everything that moves... in the same fic.
     Humongous orgy, indeed.
     So, yes, this is an orgy fic. There is not much in the way of plot, although I did make a vague attempt of having something in there other than sex. I was originally going to include something like nineteen characters in this fic, but I decided that it was just too much of an under-taking to do it that way. (for me as well as Mal). So I reduced the number to about ten. I think it worked out much better that way. :-)
     This doesn’t actually take place during my Amazonverse timeline, but it makes reference to a number of things that happened before YD 1643 on that timeline. Effectively, what we have here, is a case of the Trousers of Time. This story takes place down a slightly different leg thereof, one that split off around about the time that Polly blackmailed her country out of going to war. So, lets say this takes place kinda-sorta-vaguely in the Summer of an Alternate 1644. Or there abouts. Did that make sense? :-\
     Bonus Question for everybody: Who can spot the line yoinked from Star Trek: TNG?

 

Girls' Night Out
by Amazon Syren

 

     There had been a flyer.
     It had been emblazoned with a crimson sea flower and the words “Girls’ Night Out! Featuring: Where the Bee Sucks, performing live. Free Body Shots for You and a Friend!”
     There had also been a couple of Borogravian soldiers on a not entirely unexpected two-day leave near the end of their stay in Bonk, where they were supposedly guarding the Borogravian ambasador’s residence (a rented house, currently occupied by Chris Clogston, whose wife was visiting for the weekend). One of them had been given the flyer by an old, old friend from the Temperance League.
     She had raised an eyebrow at the garish colouring and, passing it to her partner, had said “What do you think?”
     “Why not,” her friend had replied. “I could do with a night out.”
     And so, eventually, there had been a bar.

     It was located in an alley, off a laneway, off a side street, between a shop selling leather goods and an all-night take-away curry and sausage stand, one of those clandestine places where black-ribbon-sporting vampires and werewolves who weren’t into ancient enmities, and humans who liked the look of ‘dangerous’ but were smart enough not to try for the real thing, mingled freely together.
     This particular bar, which was more clandestine than most, had a twist. It was called ‘Anemone’, in reference to the works of a particular, anonymous poet, and all of its heavily mixed clientele had two things in common.
     The first, which the two soldiers noticed upon entering the tiny, dimly lit bar, was that they were all women. True, there were a few patrons who looked otherwise at first glance, but Lucretia, a tall woman with long, thick, russet hair, a surprisingly no-nonsense lace-up bodice and a utilitarian black kilt, made sure that the clientele was Ladies Only.
     “This nose never lies,” she’d said, with a wink for the more boyish soldier.
     The second thing took a while to sink in, but when it did, the two soldiers realized that they fit right in.

     “Mal,” murmured one soldier, whose blond curls spilled just past her shoulders, over a red blouse that she had borrowed from her friend’s closet before coming to Uberwald. “Look over there.”
     Mal, a boyish soldier who, tonight, had left off her uniform in favour of a properly vampiric black suit, followed her friend’s line of sight.
     “Is that Lofty?” she murmured, thinking that it must, indeed, be their old squad-mate.
     True, her hair was significantly longer, and she had lost the hunted look that she’d worn when they first knew her, but the woman at the far table was gazing happily at the candle flame that flickered before her, and there was only one person they could think of who would be doing that.
     “I think it is,” Polly answered, as the two of them sat down.
     As they watched, a tall woman with very red hair, beaded into a hundred tiny braids, sat down beside her.
     The two soldiers looked at each other.
     “That’s definitely Tonker,” said Mal. Her mouth quirked. “I think I’m going to send them a drink, and see if they remember us.”
     “What are you going to send them?” her companion asked. “Saloop?”
     “As a matter of fact,” Mal replied with a smirk, “I am.”
     Polly shrugged.
     “Well, it’ll definitely jog their memories, that’s for sure.”
     Mal stood and, winking at her friend headed for the bar.

     “Good evening,” she said, slipping into an Uberwaldian dialect she’d learned as a child and hadn’t used in sixty years.
     “Hey,” responded the bar steward, a woman with a widow’s peak buzz cut, a scoop-necked muscle shirt, and a black ribbon tattooed on her bicep. “Vot can I get you?”
     “You wouldn’t happen to have tea in this place, would you?”
     The barkeep raised an eyebrow.
     “You Transferred to tea?” she asked.
     Mal shook her head.
     “Coffee, actually. The tea is for some friends of mine. Two for the couple in the corner,” she nodded towards Lofty and Tonker, who, she noticed, were openly holding hands. “And a third for the lady who came in with me. All heavy with milk and sugar.”
     The barkeep nodded and looked over Mal’s shoulder.
     “Zat’s a pretty little femme you’ve got zer,” she observed, setting four ceramic mugs on the counter.
     “I’m sorry,” said Mal, blinking. “I haven’t spoken Uberwaldian in a long time. ‘femme’?”
The barkeep smirked, as she hunted up the tea kettle.
“A voman who actually looks like a voman,” she explained. “Vere are you from, anyvay?”
“Borogvia,” Mal answered. “And she’s not mine. We’re just friends.”
The barkeep looked sceptical.
“Vell,” she said, eventually. “Zat explains ze accent anyvay. I take it you’ll be vanting some coffee for yourself, zen?” she added, as the kettle began steaming.
“Yes, thank you.” Mal turned, leaning her back against the bar. She watched Polly watching Lofty and Tonker, and smiled, a hint of fang gleaming in the dim bar. She wondered, not really for the first time, why it was that she and Polly hadn’t ever got together. Maybe it was that, after so many battles, after so many freezing cold mornings and so many nights where they were both so exhausted that it was an effort just to hit the pallet before falling asleep, they’d just become ‘one of the guys’ to each other. And yet... It wasn’t as though Mal hadn’t heard about Molly Piper, that more-than-a-friend from Polly’s childhood, or that Polly didn’t know about Mal’s own romantic preferences. It wasn’t as though the possibility hadn’t crossed Mal’s mind on far too many occasions. But had it ever crossed Polly’s?
The barkeep poured hot water into the tea mugs, and the coffee engine, working the plunger methodically.
“Vhy don’t you head back to your... friend” the barkeep suggested with a toothy smile. “I’ll send vun of ze gals over vis your drinks.”
“Thanks,” said Mal, turning back to the bar. “What do I owe you?”
The barkeep smirked.
“Zis stuff? For a fellow ribboner, it’s on ze house."
“Thanks,” Mal answered, turning to go.
What a remarkable place, she thought to herself, walking back to the table. We need one of these in the Capital.


     “You looked like you were having a nice chat,” Polly said, when Mal sat down.
     “Indeed I was,” Mal answered, leaning close to her partner to murmur in her ear. “Do you realize what kind of a place this is?”
     Polly looked around the small, dimly lit room, noting half a dozen couples in the gloom, and not a man among them.
     “Yes,” she said, after a moment, “I think I’m getting the idea.”
     Mal was about to respond when a woman who, given the bodice, the underwire, and the saucy smirk, could only be described as a serving wench, bustled up to their table with four, steaming mugs on her tray.
     “Vun coffee," she said, "und vun tea vis appalling amounts of milk und sugar. Zere you go.” She set two of the mugs down on the table. “Ze ozzer drinks are for zoes two in ze corner, ya?”
     Mal nodded.
     “Thanks,” she murmured, as the serving wench bustled off again.
     Mal sipped her coffee as Polly investigated the contents of her mug.
     “The bar tender thinks you’re cute,” Mal offered, as they watched the serving wench deliver the saloop to Lofty and Tonker.
     "Really?" Polly glance briefly at the bar and took note of the woman serving cocktails to a couple who were, Polly realized, speaking Morporkian to each other. She shrugged.
     "Not your type?" Mal asked, casually.
     Polly glanced at her, sidelong.
     "Not quite," her mouth quirked. "But close."
     Mal raised an eyebrow.
     "Really..."      "Look miss," they overheard from the table in the corner. "I swear we didn’t order these."
     “I know,” the voice of their serving wench replied. “Ze vampire across the ze room did. See? Ze vun sitting vis ze blonde?”
     They turned their attention back to Lofty and Tonker, who were now looking in their direction.
     She waved.
     Tonker’s face split into a disbelieving grin.
     “Well, bugger me,” she announced. “How bloody long has it been?”
     “Years, I’m sure of it,” Mal commented, gesturing for the two women to join them.
     Tonker set her mug down on the table, pulling up a third chair. Lofty followed, bearing her own mug and the candle, which she set down reverentially before sitting herself on Tonker’s knee.
     “You know,” said Polly, reaching out to tug one of Tonker’s braids, gently. “I thought I'd heard something about the most fearsome highway man in Borogvia being a woman...”
     In Tonker's lap, Lofty smiled, looking smug.
“Yep,” answered Tonker, with a wicked grin. “That’s me.”
      Her gaze wandered from Polly to Maladict, eying the vampire carefully.
      “Lucretia’s got a pretty good nose,” she said, casually. “I take it we were all girls together, then. Or were you just very convincing?”
      Mal gave a careless shrug, but didn’t answer.
      "So," she said, instead. "Other than terrorizing the coach road, what have you two been up to?"
     
      Over the next hour, the four of them played 'catch up' over a great variety of sticky drinks including, but not limited to: beer, doornails, hangnails, hangmen, and everything that Anemone could offer in the way of coffee liqueurs.
      Later, while the band was setting up on a small stage near the bar, Maladict had discovered that the Morporkian couple were none other than one of her fellow black ribboners and the watchwoman whom she and Polly had met all those years ago when they’d brought the truce flag to that Ankh-Morpork commander.
      "Come and join us," she said, leading them to the rappidly expanding table and making introductions all around.
      Mal's league-sister had pulled up a chair next to Polly, chirping, "Hi! I'm Sally. I like your hair," by way of greeting.
      Her friend, Angua, in a shimmering bronze dress that left remarkably little to the imagination, had settled beside Maladict and, slipping her hand under the table, had begun to run her fingers surpetitiously along Mal’s thigh.
      It made it very, very hard for Mal to concentrate on the conversation, but, oh, she wasn't about to complain.
      Sally, looking like jailbait in a pleated skirt and tie, had kept herself busy by flirting outrageously with both Tonker and Lofty.
      "Gods," Tonker commented, after Sally had excused herself to visit the Ladies' room. "She comes on pretty strong, doesn't she?"
      Angua had shrugged, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
      "That's Sally for you," she murmured. "Never a dull moment." She took a delicate sip from her bottle of beer.
      Mal watched the growing crowd and thought she saw a familiar face slipping through the throng.
      Only when Sally returned to the table, a beaming, well-coiffed black ribboner in tow, that Mal realized who she had seen.
      “Oh, my gracious,” the woman exclaimed, her hand fluttering to her bosom. “Zat can’t be Delphine? – Oh, no, I do apologise, my dear. It’s Angua now, is it not?”
      The blonde watchwoman from Ankh-Morpork nodded.
      “Of course it is." Her eyes lighted on Mal, and her eyes softened. There was a drop of blood on the collar of her twinset, Mal noticed, and the faint remains of a rappidly fading bruise on her throat.
      Mal raised an eyebrow.
      "It’s been a lonk time," the older vampire murmured. "Who is zis lovely treasure you haff brought vis you tonight?"
      “Polly Perks,” Polly answered, quickly. “Army.”
      “Lady Margolotta von Ubervald,” the vampire replied, nodding graciously. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
      At which point, the conversation was curtailed by the voice of Lou, the barkeep, introducing the band.
      'Where the Bee Sucks' were a West Schmaltzberg jazz quartet, and their slinky yet uptempo music eventually resulted in a conga line winding its way around the crowded space.
      The audience had demanded seven encores, the last of which was a saucy rendition of 'So Long, Fairwell' which, Mal was sure, could not have been using the original lyrics. Someone bought the band a round of drinks, and then another.
      Mal noticed Lady Margolotta giving Angua a speculative look.
      "Tell me," the Lady asked the werewolf, with a suggestive lift of her eyebrow. "Would you like to do something that would make your family very angry?"
      Angua's mouth quirked.
      "Maybe."
      “Alright, ladies,” Lou announced, loudly, as she gave the bar-top a final wipe. “It’s midnight and you know what that means. It’s time for body shots!”
      A cheer went up from the patrons of Anemone.
      Well, from most of them.
      “What the hell are body shots?” hissed Polly.
      True, she’d grown up in a bar, but it had been a bar in Nugganatic Borogravia. They didn’t even have drinks like ‘sex on the beach’ in Nuganatic Borogravia. Mal wondered if she'd felt silly for having to ask, anyway.
      “Oohoo,” came the voice of Sally. “Fresh blood.”
      Mal shot her a look.
      “What?” Sally protested, taking a sip of her Screaming Orgasm. “I obviously didn’t mean it literally.” She turned towards the bar, and let out a shrill whistle. “Hey, Lou!” she called. “We’ve got a virgin here!”
      There was a sudden, anticipatory silence in the bar.
      All heads turned towards Sally, who cheerfully waggled her eyebrows and indicated Polly with her free hand.
      “So,” said Lou, swaggering towards the table. “You’ve never heard of body shots.”
      “No?”
      Lou grinned a grin that was very nearly a leer.
      “I’d be happy to show you, any time.”
      Polly gave Lou a considering look. For a vampire, she was sturdily built.
      "Would you, now?"
      Mal sighed.
      “Body shots” she said, concentrating hard as Angua’s hand slid over her thigh again, “are what you do when, instead of using a glass, you pour an ounce of liquor onto someone’s stomach, and lick it off.”
      To Mal’s surprise, Polly giggled.
      “Really?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “Exactly who’s doing the licking?”
      “Hmm,” mused Lady Margolotta. “She’s a brave vun, isn’t she?”
      “I think that would be me,” came a sultry voice from the gloom.
      Polly craned her neck to see who had spoken.
      A regal woman who looked about thirty came into view.
      Mal blinked in surprise.
      “Baroness Ella,” she murmured.
      “Hello, Mal,” came the response. “It’s been a long time.”
      Mal nodded, even as she noticed Polly shooting her a surprised look, as if to say 'How many of these women do you know, anyway?'
      The Baroness turned her gaze back to Polly.
      “Your call,” she said, licking her lips.
      Polly let her own gaze slide over Ella. The Baroness’s skin was nut brown, and her hair was white blond and, really, she was quite lovely.
      Polly shrugged.
      “What the hell,” she said.
      The assembled patrons cheered and Polly blushed.
     
      Mal watched as Ella led Polly to the bar, an arm draped casually around the soldier’s waist.
      “You have anything underneath this?” Ella asked, as she began unbuttoning Polly’s shirt from the bottom up.
      Polly nodded.
      “Pity,” Mal heard Ella say, as she slipped the shirt from Polly’s shoulders.
      At Lou’s instruction, Polly hoisted herself onto the freshly cleaned bar, and lay down, letting her hair spill over the edge of the counter.
      “All zet, gorgeous?” asked Lou, a shot glass of something sticky at the ready.
      Polly rolled her vest up past her stomach, and nodded.
      “Good, ‘cause zis is gonna be freezink.”
      “Wha—?”
      But Lou poured the shot-glass of, as it turned out, Genuan White Rum onto Polly’s exposed skin before she could protest.
      Polly gasped at the sudden cold and then laughed as Ella began to lap the alcohol off her skin.
      “That tickles,” she protested.
      “Do you want to stop?” Ella murmured, lifting her head.
      Polly smiled at the Baroness, and shook her head.
      “Glad to hear it,” Ella replied.
      She slurped up the rest of the rum, then glanced at Lou.
      “Give me another?” she suggested, and Lou obediently poured another shot of rum onto Polly's skin.
This time, Ella went more slowly, and Mal saw how Polly’s breathing changed, how her eyes drifted closed as Ella’s tongue moved on her body.
      Her mouth quirked.
      After Ella had finished (three shots and a gasping Polly later), Sally stepped up to the bar, ordering a Hangnail. Then Liesl and Gretl, two members of Where the Bee Sucks, took turns lapping lime daqueris off of Polly’s skin. Mal wondered what Polly – who appeared to be having a marvellous time – would think if Mal stepped up and asked for a Wahlulu on skin.
      “Psst,” Mal heard, beside her.
      Mal glanced over, and met the eyes of Sally.
      “Hey, sister,” the vampire murmured. “Step outside with me?”
      Mal slid her gaze over Sally’s lithe body and felt her stomach flutter.
      “Sure,” she answered, with a suggestive lift of her eyebrow. “What’d you have in mind?”
      They slipped out the back door without anyone noticing.
     
      ***
     
      Outside, the summer night was warm but not baking, quite a change from the humid Borogravian weather Mal was used to. Not that she had time to comment on the temperature.
      No sooner had they stepped outside than Sally had pulled her roughly into the shadows, kissing her hard enough to knock the breath out of her.
      “You don’t mess about, do you?” Mal gasped, her eyes glittering.
      “Never have,” Sally answered, kissing her again.
      Mal wrapped an arm around Sally’s neck, returning her kisses fiercely and sliding her hand lightly over Sally’s shirtfront.
      She felt Sally’s nipple harden under her hand.
      “You been here before?” Mal had asked, loosening Sally’s tie.
      “Lots,” Sally answered, slipping her knee between Mal’s legs and pulling the vampire closer. She sucked hard on Mal’s lower lip and Mal’s hips moved of their own accord.
      Mal tore open Sally’s shirt, sliding her hands hungrily over Sally’s gleaming pale skin. She pinched the button of her nipple and made Sally gasp, gripping Mal’s hips and grinding against them.
      “Mmm…” Sally sighed, fumbling with the buttons of Mal’s black shirt. Mal’s searching fingers found the hem of Sally’s skirt, lifting it deftly and slipping her hand underneath.
      “Oh, gods,” Sally gasped, as Mal’s fingers slid up the inside of her slick thigh, her kisses traveling urgently from Mal’s mouth her throat.
      Mal tilted her head, giving Sally easier access to her flesh, as shivers of pleasure fluttered through her body.
      Somewhere off to one side, Mal heard someone else gasping in the darkness, and guessed that this must be a popular spot for lovers who couldn’t wait. Mal smiled, shivering as Sally ran her tongue over her throat, and realized that the thought of their not being alone excited her more than she would have expected.
      She ran her nails over Sally’s thigh and felt Sally’s hips grind against her.
      Sally’s teeth graze her skin and she gasped involuntarily.
      “I know what you want,” Sally whispered, nibbling gently, teasingly, at Mal’s collarbone. Mal tangled her fingers in Sally’s short hair.
      “You want it, too,” she answered, huskilly, tilting Sally’s head to the side and running her tongue over Sally’s skin. She could feel the slow pulse quickening.
      “Yes,” Sally breathed, gathering Mal closer. “Take it. Please.”
      Mal fluttered kisses along Sally’s throat.
      “We can’t,” she murmured against Sally’s skin.
      “You’re not human, Mal,” Sally answered, pressing closer. “Neither of us are.”
      “I—” she pulled back, but Sally pulled her close again, kissing her mouth fiercely.
      “Margolotta did,” she whispered, kissing Mal’s throat again. “Please?” she murmured. “You don’t have to drink anything. Just let me feel you under my skin.”
     
      ***
     
      When they came back in, Mal noticed that Lofty and Tonker seemed to have disappeared.
      So that’s who was doing the heavy breathing, she thought, amused.
      Margolotta, she noted, had made herself comfortable in Ella’s lap. She raised an eyebrow at the other vampire, wondering how much politics Margolotta would be playing in the next few days in order to get over her game of Uberwaldian Roulette.
     
      Polly was just buttoning her shirt, her face flushed. One of the band members – maybe Marta – was being helped onto the bar by two human – well, probably human – women in black, one with a black streak in her white hair, and the other with a cigarette dangling from her lips.
      Polly caught Mal’s eye and joined her, quickly.
      “That,” she said, slinging an arm around Mal’s shoulders, “was possibly the weirdest thing I’ve ever done.”
      “Weirder than joining the army, in drag?” Mal asked, with a smirk.
      Polly giggled, her eyes shining with mirth and alcohol.
      “Okay,” she conceded. “The weirdest thing I’ve ever done that wasn’t life threatening.” She lifted her eyebrows. “Are you going to go up?”
      Mal glanced towards the bar. The woman with the cigarette was trailing her fingers idly over Marta’s stomach and giving her order to Lou.
      “I might,” Mal hedged. “Why,” she asked, smirking at her slightly dishevelled friend. “Do you have a burning desire to lick me?”
      She had expected Polly to blush, true, but not quite to that degree.
      “Oh, really,” Mal teased, arching her eyebrows and slipping her arm around Polly’s waist. “That is good to know!”
      “Gods, Mal, you’re an abomination,” Polly responded, laughing.
      “More than you will ever know,” Mal assured her.
     

      ***
     
      Eventually, Mal did lie down on the bar top, hanging her suit jacket over the back of a bar stool, and opening her shirt just enough to expose the skin of her abdomen.
      “Oh, come on,” Lucretia teased her from the doorway. “Ve vant a show!”
      The assembled multitude cheered at the suggestion.
      “Oh, no,” Mal said from her prone position on the bar. “I don’t strip in front of just anybody.” She was sure she heard a soft snort from the back of the bar.
      “You’ve done it in front of me,” Polly commented, just loudly enough to be heard by most of the assembled patrons.
      Mal smirked.
      “You spend eight months of the year living in a tent the size of that table with me,” she pointed out. “And you took that bloody wooden arrow in the shoulder for me three months ago. I think that qualifies you.”
      “Really?” Polly said, with a teasing smile. “That is good to know.”
      Mal chuckled as Polly turned to Lou.
      “Do you have any of that... cherry-chocolate whatchacallit left? We don’t have that in Borogvia.”
      Lou raised an eyebrow.
      “Tell me, soldier girl,” she said, retrieving the requested bottle. “Is your taste as good as your taste?”
      Polly blushed at Lou’s meaning, trying to look severe and failing spectacularly.
      It was kind of cute, Mal thought, but she wasn’t about to say it.
      “Ready?” Lou asked her, grinning toothily.
      “But of course.”
      The barkeep grinned and carefully poured exactly one ounce of sticky, red, cherry chocolate liqueur over Mal’s abdomen.
      “She’s all yours,” Lou said to Polly, who grinned and lowered her mouth to Mal’s waiting skin.
      The first touch of Polly’s tongue, just below her sternum, sent an unexpected shiver through Mal’s body. Polly slurped and sucked, slowly drinking the liqueur pooled on Mal’s pale skin, lapping the dregs with strong strokes of her tongue.
      Of all the women Mal knew, and she knew at least of a few of them here tonight in the sense meant by the Book of Nuggan, she hadn’t ever expected Polly to be running her tongue over Mal’s skin with such confidence and enthusiasm.
      Oh, she’d thought about it, gods, had she thought about it, after battles when her body was begging for confirmation that she was still alive, or on those nights when her nocturnal nature and her loneliness wouldn’t let her sleep. But she’d never expected it to happen.
      It was... surprising.
      It was... Gods... it felt really good.
      Mal closed her eyes and enjoyed it.
      When Polly lifted her head, Mal met her eyes.
      “Have another on me,” Mal suggested, her mouth quirking.
      Polly smiled.
      “If you insist.”
      By the time Polly straightened up, licking her lips, a lineup had formed behind her. It included the white-haired woman in black.
      “Death does body shots?” Mal asked, smirking. She had seen Susan on the battlefield once or twice in the past four years. It was odd to see her in a bar, now.
      “I’m not working tonight,” Susan answered, with a nearly predatory smile, before sliding her tongue through the Crème de Cacao pooling on Mal’s stomach.
     
      ***
     
      Some time well past one in the morning, after most of the patrons had left in twos, and sometimes threes, to continue their evenings less publically, Baroness Ella had kicked off a jam session, belting out a Genuan song called “What’s New, Pussy Cat?”, while leering openly at the Duchess of Sto Helit who blushed crimson – showing off the peculiar birth mark on her cheek – as her hair rearranged itself, embarrassed at the attention.
      The song was countered by Adora Belle, of Ankh-Morpork, singing “I’m a Stranger Here, Myself” in her chain-smoker’s voice, and not doing a totally horrible job of it.
     “Hey,” Lucinda, the serving wench had piped up, with a generous wink a the blond soldier girl. “My cousin in Ankh-Morpork taught me a song called ‘Good Gracious, Miss Polly’—”
      “Good gods, no,” the soldier in question moaned, only to find herself being comforted by half a dozen friendly pairs of hands.
      “There, there, dear,” Mal said, with a lazy grin. “She didn’t really mean it.”
      “Oh, but I did,” Lucinda responded with a saucy grin. “Good gracious, indeed!”
      Polly blushes and fanned herself, to general laughter.
      “Alright, ladies, ve’ve got to close up for ze night—” Lou began, regretfully.
      There was a chorus of groans from the remaining patrons.
      “Vell, zen,” Lady Margolotta suggested from her comfortable position between Ella and Adora Belle. “Vhy don’t ve just move ze party to my estate in town?”
      “Whatever happened to ‘Dontgonearthe’ Castle?” Angua teased.
      “I believe it vas burned down by a raging mob six years ago,” Margolotta answered, deadpan. She looked at the remaining patrons. “Vhat do you say?”

     ***
     
      Of course, what they said, every one of them, was ‘yes’. Which was how Mal found herself crammed into a coach, sandwiched between Polly and Margolotta, with Susan on her lap. Technically Margolotta’s coach held six people, but they had managed to squeeze everyone in somehow.
      “So,” Sally asked Margolotta, from her position on Ella’s lap. “Do you think this will turn out the way most of your parties do?”
      Margolotta quirked her eyebrow at Sally.
      “A voman can only hope,” she answered.
      “How do most of your parties turn out?” Tonker asked.
      Sally snorted.
      “In bed.”
      Mal distinctly felt a current run through the crammed coach.
      “That sounds promising,” she murmured.
      “What, everyone at once?” This from Polly.
      “Generally,” Margolotta answered with a shrug, not the least bit embarrassed.
     
      ***
     
      “Who wants to play a party game?”
      They were gathered in Margolotta’s spacious sitting room, drinking, well, just about everything.
      “Such as?” Adora Belle asked, quirking an eyebrow and exhaling smoke.
      “Well,” Ella suggested. “We could play ‘sardines’.”
      “What’s that?” asked Lofty, taking a sip of Tonker’s champagne.
      “It’s like ‘hide and seek’. Except the person who’s ‘it’ has to do the hiding and anyone who finds her has to hide too.”
      “That sounds like fun,” said Polly. “Who’s it?”
      Nine pairs of eyes turned towards her.
      “Oh,” she said, colour seeping into her skin again. “I guess that would be me.” She set her drink down with exaggerated care, and turned to Margolotta. “Are there any places where I can’t go?”
      “Ze estate is not zo extensive by vampiric standards,” Margolotta commented. “None ze less, I suggest zat you stay wissin ze confines of ze first two floors. Ozzer zan zat, do as you vill.” She glanced at the ebony grandfather clock in the corner. “Vill five minutes be enough, do you sink?”
      “Uh... Okay.”
      “Off you go, zen,” she smiled, with an arch of her eyebrows. “Ve’ll see who finds you first.”
     
     
     Mal wandered the halls of Margolotta’s spacious Bonk estate, absently noting the way that the traditional vampiric architecture had been decorated with pale pink curtains and Regency Quirmian print upholstery. She felt she had a bit of an advantage in this game, having been around Polly for years longer than everyone else, although Angua would probably find her first. Given the amount of hormones that had been floating around the sitting room, however, she wouldn’t be surprised if people... took their time searching. She paused, thinking about the short time she’d spent with Sally out behind the bar earlier that night, wondering if she’d ever been with her werewolf squad-mate. Mal shook her head, wondering exactly how long she’d had a thing for blondes.
      “Hello, Mal.”
      “Oh, you’re good,” Mal answered, as the tall blond melted out of a shadowed alcove. “I was just thinking about you.”
      “Really?” Angua commented. “How convenient.”
      “It is, rather,” Mal said, lounging against the wall. “How goes the hunt?”
      Angua shrugged.
      “I’m taking my time.”
      Mal smiled, lazily.
      “Want some help with that?”
      “I thought you’d never ask,” Angua answered, taking hold of Mal’s lapels and pulling her into the shadows.
      Mal reached up, pulling the tall woman’s mouth to her own. She felt Angua’s tongue flick lightly against her lips and opened her mouth, kissing the werewolf more deeply.
      “I can smell her on you,” Angua remarked, breathlessly, when they pulled apart.
      “Sally?” Mal answered, leaning in again, offering another kiss, this one brief and teasing. “Yes.” Fluttering kisses along Angua’s throat, feeling the pulse racing under the fair skin. “Does that bother you?”
      Angua sighed, tilting her head and pulling Mal closer.
      “Not at all.”
      She ran her fingers over the lapels of Mal’s jacket, loosing the buttons and slipping her hands inside to brush her fingers over Mal’s tight nipples.
      “You’re good at this,” Angua murmured as Mal slipped the silk straps from her shoulders, kissing her collar bone.
      “Decades of practice,” Mal answered, huskily, as her mouth moving lower. She ran her tongue hungrily over Angua’s impressive breasts. She felt Angua sigh as Mal slipped a nipple into her mouth. The werewolf was fumbling with the buttons of Mal’s shirt, baring her skin.
      She lifted Mal’s chin with one hand, her other arm sliding around Mal’s waist. “I want your mouth,” she murmured, kissing her eagerly.
      “What else do you want?” Mal asked against her lips, pressing closer, skin to downy skin. Angua answered by kissing her more deeply, one hand finding the buttons of Mal’s trousers.
      “I think you know,” Angua murmured, kissing Mal’s exposed throat.
      Mal ran her hand hungrily up Angua’s thigh, under the bronze silk, and felt the werewolf’s hips move, sending ripples of excitement through Mal’s own body. She pressed closer, tilting her head to give Angua more room. Angua slipped her hand deftly into Mal’s trousers, finding the delicate folds of flesh between her legs, Mal’s hips jolted at the touch.
      Angua had talented hands and, as she stroked and teased Mal's flesh, the pressure in Mal’s abdomen built, cresting quickly, her stomach clenching as the climax broke over her.
      Angua’s fingers slowed, and Mal’s breathing began to return to normal.
      “Wow,” Mal murmured. "You're amazing."
      She pulled the werewolf closer with her free hand and kissing her again. “What would you like?” she asked, softly, running her fingers through Angua’s long, blond hair.
      Angua slipped her thigh between Mal’s legs, deftly fastening the buttons of her trousers.
      “I want you to touch me,” she whispered against Mal’s mouth, her arms sliding around Mal’s waist again.
      “Happy to,” she breathed, shifting against Angua’s body, she trailed her fingers over Angua’s thigh, slipping her hand between the werewolf’s legs. Lightly, carefully, she slid her fingers over the smooth folds of Angua’s flesh.
      “Mmmm,” Angua sighed, her hips moving rhythmically against Mal’s fingers. “That’s good.”
      Mal pressed closer, breathing the scent of her partner – wild herbs and lust – kissing her neck and shoulders. Angua moaned softly, as Mal circled her swollen clit more quickly.
      “Please,” she murmured into Mal’s hair. “Gods, please, I want you inside me!”
      “Anything you say,” Mal answered, against her skin. Carefully, carefully she slid one, then two fingers deep inside Angua, feeling the smooth muscled walls close around her. “Like that?” she whispered, sliding her fingers out and in, her thumb still moving against Angua’s clit. She could feel little spasms running through the werewolf’s body.
      “Yes,” Angua gasped. “Uh-huh! Yes!”
      Mal felt the muscles contract around her fingers, squeezing hard as Angua shuddered against her. Mal pressed her thumb against the side of Angua’s clit, relishing the way she quivered and shook, the way her heart pounded against Mal’s ribs.
      Mal kissed Angua’s neck again, then her cheek, her mouth. Slowly, slowly, she eased her fingers out, brushing them lightly over Angua’s clit, making her gasp and quiver with aftershocks.
      “That was... That was good,” Angua breathed, lifting Mal’s hand and sucking her sticky fingers.
      “It was fun, wasn’t it?” Mal murmured, a smile ghosting at the corners of her lips. She straightened Angua’s dress, settling the straps on her broad shoulders.
      “We’ll have to do it again some time,” the werewolf commented, as she buttoned Mal’s shirt.
      “Yes,” a kiss. “We will.”
      Angua smiled.
      “See you later,” and she slipped away, disappearing down the hall.
      In the alcove, Mal closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. She licked her lips, re-buttoning her shirt.
      See you later, indeed.
     
      ***
     
      Mal listened to the dark.
      In the estate, she made out... three heartbeats that were definitely not human, as well as two that were… borderline. She recognized the familiar double-beat of the Igors and realized that one of them must be Margolotta’s discreet servant. The other...
      Death does body shots.
      She remembered the way Susan’s heartbeat had sounded so loudly in her ears when the young, lady Death had bent over her body, more real than anything else. It had to be her.
      She listened carefully, trying to isolate the heart beats of the human guests. Two were almost directly below her on the main floor. Mal smirked to herself, wondering what they could be getting up to, beating so close together and so quickly. One of them seemed to be in the general vicinity of Susan…
      She caught the sound of one of her fellow black ribboners, her heart beating slow and steadily, and wondered if she were listening, too. Had she heard Angua’s heart racing? Had she guessed?
      She smiled to herself, as she made her way down the hall. It was strange. She had spent so many years of her life having to hide her trysts, and now this. Sex in the hallways, in plain sight of anyone who walked by and happened to turn their head! She should have been terrified. And yet... she felt just the opposite. The thought of being caught, even joined, by another made her blood race.
      Then she heard it.
      Another heart beat. Or, rather, she heard three heartbeats, two human, one vampiric, all coming from the same room.
      She smiled again. One of those heartbeats was mildly familiar, and one she recognized from earlier that night. The third, however, she could recognize in her sleep – and had, else she would have woken up every time Polly came off watch in the wee small hours of the morning.
      She followed the sound.
     
      ***
     
      She pushed open the door. It was, not surprisingly, unlocked, and led to a tiny room of the sort that Mal recognized, from the bad old days, as a ‘sipping chamber’. There were curtains, still, although they certainly weren’t billowing, and the décor, while relying heavily on pink chintz, and augmented by some very plush carpeting, was typical of such a room: two small benches, sitting opposite one another, and little else. One bench was empty. The other, she saw as she stepped quietly into the room, was occupied.
      Very occupied.
      Mal’s mouth quirked.
      There was Polly, who, for all that she’d been through as many battles as Mal had, Mal couldn’t stop thinking of as ‘innocent’, sitting in the lap of Baroness Ella of Genua, casually kissing Sally. Polly’s crimson shirt had been abandoned on the floor, where it stood out against the chocolate brown carpeting, and Polly was deftly loosening Sally’s tie.
      Baroness Ella looked up, dark eyed, from where she had been kissing Polly’s shoulder, one hand still under the soldier’s vest, and beckoned with a crooked finger.
      Mal grinned, letting the door swing noiselessly shut behind her.
     
      “Miss me?” she whispered in Ella’s ear, bending to kiss her mouth.
      “Shouldn’t I?” Ella breathed, equally softly, guiding Mal onto the bench beside her. “Did you teach your friend to kiss like that?” she asked, her fingers tracing down the row of buttons on Mal’s shirt front.
      Mal shook her head, and leaned in to kiss Ella again. She remembered the night they had danced together at a court ball in Genua, years ago. How Ella had invited her to stay the night and, when Mal had suggested there was something she might want to know beforehand, Ella had flickered her gaze over Mal’s body and said ‘Do you think that bothers me?’
      It had been a good night.
      Ella’s lips were still soft and full, and her tongue slipped over Mal’s own with a skill that Mal had almost forgotten. She felt Ella’s other arm come around her, and slid her own hand over Ella’s knee.
      “Come here,” she heard – Sally’s voice – and felt Ella shift as Polly’s weight left her lap. She gathered Ella closer, trailing kisses down her throat, along her collar bone. She brushed her hand over Ella’s bodice, tugging at the laces as Ella pulled her closer, finding her mouth again. Mal opened Ella’s bodice, freeing her breasts, and Ella arched her back, urging Mal to touch her.
      “Let me take this off,” Mal overheard, as she kissed her way down Ella’s breast bone. Somewhere a door opened and closed. Mal ignored it. She had far more enjoyable things upon-which to concentrate.
      She took one of Ella’s swollen nipples in her mouth, stroking it with her tongue and sucking gently. She was rewarded with a cry of pleasure and sucked harder.
      “Gods, I’ve missed you,” Ella groaned, pressing Mal closer.
      You’ve just missed the sex, you little vixen, Mal thought, moving to Ella’s other breast as the baroness tangled her fingers in Mal’s short hair. Not that I’m complaining.
      “Oh! That’s good!” Was that Polly’s voice? Mal hadn’t expected her to sound like that in the throes of passion. Granted, she hadn’t expected to be hearing her in those throes, either, but still. Mal could feel the wetness between her own legs and wondered, briefly, if she would get a chance to make Polly sound like that. A nice thought, that, but for now she had more immediate needs to attend to. She kissed her way back up to Ella’s mouth.
      “I want to taste you,” she whispered.
      “Oh, gods, do it,” Ella answered, urgently, kissing Mal hard.
      Mal slipped off the bench, and onto her knees, running her tongue from Ella’s breast bone to her ear.
      “My pleasure,” she whispered, finding the hem of Ella’s gown.
      Yep, thought Mal, mildly amused even as she felt Ella’s pulse throbbing under her mouth. She still has a thing for petticoats.
      Petticoats or not, Mal’s questing hand soon found Ella’s shapely foot and, from their, trailed its way to her inner thigh, which was already slick with wetness.
      She cupped Ella’s chin in her hand, and kissed her mouth once, deeply.
      “Enjoy,” she murmured, before ducking under the baroness’ wide skirts.
     
      The small room had been heavy with the scents of lust, but here, under the heavy fabric, the layers of lace and silk, the scent of Ella – mossy and pungent and rich – dominated. Mal ran her tongue along a slick thigh and felt Ella quiver as she spread her legs further.
      Mmm… Good girl... Mal hooked her arms under Ella’s thighs, grasping her hips and pulling her closer, burying her nose in the white-gold curls between Ella’s legs and inhaling the scent of her, hungrily. She felt the muscles in Ella’s thighs twitch and caught a whimper some where far above her.
      I’m coming, I’m coming, she thought, and smirked. Or you will be, anyway. She shifted just slightly, letting her lips brush against Ella, sliding her tongue over her already dripping flesh.
      She heard a groan from on high, and redoubled her efforts, oblivious to the soft click behind her.
“What's going—” she heard someone else begin, then: “Oh... Mmm...”
      Mal found Ella’s clit with her tongue, laving it eagerly, making Ella’s thigh’s twitch and quiver, and coaxing sighs and moans from higher up.
      For reasons of necessity, if nothing else, Mal had never developed into a screamer. This did not mean, however, that she minded that quality in a partner. She took Ella’s clit into her mouth, sucking gently even as she continued to make quick strokes with her tongue.
      She felt a tremor run through Ella’s body, and heard fluttering ‘Oh!’ from above. Through the thick fabric of the gown, Mal felt Ella’s hand on the back of her head pressing her closer, even as the woman’s hips arched against Mal’s mouth.
      Come on, Ella, Mal thought, playing her fingers over the baroness’ hips even as she continued to tease her clit. I know you’ve got at least one really good shriek in there— she pressed her tongue to the side of Ella’s clit and felt her climax even as she heard it, a bone deep shuddering that ran through Ella’s body accompanied by a deep groan of satisfaction.
      Mal kissed Ella’s drenched and swollen lips, the pearl of her clit, milking her aftershocks for all they were worth, until she felt Ella’s twitching thighs go still.
      She smiled to herself, licking her own lips clean, savouring Ella’s taste one more time.
     
      She slipped out from under the many-layered gown, running a hand through her short hair to tidy it, and looked up to see that Polly, vest long-discarded, had leaned back and was kissing Ella, while Sally, strong arms wrapped around Polly’s lithe body, ran her tongue deftly over one of Polly’s tight nipples.
      Sally glanced up and winked at Mal.
      Mal grinned back.
      “So that was you, was it?”
      Mal turned towards the voice that had spoken.
      Two women were leaning cosily against one wall of the tiny room. One, Mal recognized as Adora Belle. Her dark hair hung loose around her shoulders now, and the buttons of her high-necked dress had been unfastened, but her sardonic expression was the same. The other, whose lace-edged bodice was hanging open to expose small, firm breasts, was clearly Susan Sto Helit. No-one else carried herself with that much ice and steel, or, for that matter, had hair that rearranged itself when they were excited.
      They were both looking speculatively at Mal.
      She shrugged.
      “Want to get a little back?” Adora suggested, lifting an eyebrow.
      “From you?” she quirked an eyebrow. “Love to.”
      “Oh, you jewel,” Susan murmured, with a wicked smile, moving swiftly to Mal’s side. She knelt behind Mal, dragging off Mal’s jacket and slipping her arms around Mal’s own, slender body. “That’s exactly what I’d hoped,” she whispered in Mal’s ear, as she began to work the buttons of Mal’s shirt.
      Adora Belle wasted no time, kneeling between Mal’s legs and pulling her boots off. She slid her hands up Mal’s thighs, even as Susan slipped a hand inside Mal’s open shirt.
      The combined attention made Mal gasp, feeling slightly dizzy. She’d been around the block with women more times than she could count, but never quite like this. She turned her head, finding Susan’s mouth with her own and felt her stomach flutter involuntarily as deft fingers began unfastening the buttons of her trousers.
      She closed her eyes, her body resting against Susan’s, reaching up with one hand to brush the woman's cheek. Susan’s fingers stroked and teased the hard buttons of her nipples, making her breath come in gasps. She felt Susan’s mouth moving from her lips to her neck, eager kisses fluttering over her skin, sending ripples of pleasure through her body. She felt, suddenly, a warm mouth on her belly and soft kisses moving downward as her trousers were slid from her hips.
      Oh, gods, she felt herself trembling even before Adora’s mouth found her slick lips, tracing her tongue hungrily between Mal’s thighs. Around her, Mal could make out the sounds of other women, their sighs and moans of pleasure feeding her own mounting bliss. The sensations of Susan’s mouth on her throat, Susan’s hands on her body, and Adora’s mouth moving eagerly between her legs, were overwhelming and Mal gave herself up to them, wholeheartedly. Her hips moved to the rhythm of Adora’s tongue, as the the pressure built in her abdomen, the flutters in her stomach growing stronger, spreading outward, until, with a shuddering sigh, they overtook her and carried her away.
     “Oh…” she breathed, panting hard, as she came down again. She could feel the muscles of her thighs, her belly, twitching and jumping with aftershocks.
      She opened her eyes and smiled lazily at Adora.
      “Your turn?” she suggested.
      Adora shook her head, licking her lips.
      “I want you to make her come,” she answered, huskily.
      “You like to watch?”
      A slow nod, her eyes dark with want.
      Mal smiled and shifted in Susan’s arms.
     “Come here,” she murmured, gathering Susan close. She leaned in, found the other woman’s mouth with her own, kissing her softly, slowly, trailing her fingers lightly down Susan’s cheek, her throat, the smooth swell of her breast.
     “Let’s get you out of this,” she whispered, slipping Susan’s bodice off her shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. The other woman wrapped her arms around Mal, sliding her hands under what remained of Mal’s clothing and claiming her mouth once more. Mal stroked Susan’s cheek, catching the scent of chalk and bone, calla lilies and, faintly, chocolate. She felt a tendril of Susan’s hair wrap around her wrist.
      “Does that mean you like me?” she teased, softly, brushing Susan’s hard nipple with her thumb.
      “I like you right now,” Susan gasped, shivering.
      “Glad to hear it.” Mal whispered against Susan’s mouth as she eased Susan back onto the thick carpeting. She kissed Susan’s throat, feeling the pulse beating under the skin and let her fingers drift over Susan’s abdomen, feeling the skin quiver under her hand. “Tell me what you want,” she continued, softly, kissing her way over Susan’s clavicle to her breast bone. She took a nipple in her mouth and heard a whimper, felt Susan squirm against her.
      “You like to watch,” Mal overheard a low voice comment, too soft to recognize. “Why not let me help you with that.”
      She heard Adora gasp and then groan, and wondered who had joined her. She sucked harder at Susan’s nipple and Susan arched to meet her, tangling her fingers in Mal’s hair and guiding Mal back to her mouth and parting her lips.
      Susan slipped her hand between them, teasing Mal’s nipple to hardness as their tongues tangled together.
      Mal let her hand rove over Susan’s body, sliding her skirts higher and teasing Susan’s trembling thighs with light fingers. Susan moaned at the touch, and nipped at Mal’s lower lip.
      “Tease,” she panted.
      “Do you like it?” Mal asked, arching an eyebrow. She trailed her fingers higher, just to hear Susan gasp, to feel her body arch against Mal’s own. “Mmm... You do like it.”
      “Oh, gods,” Susan cried, seizing Mal’s hand and burying it between her legs. “Touch me, dammit!”
      Mal chuckled, kissing Susan’s throat, her collar bone.
      “Patience, lovely,” she murmured into Susan’s skin. Below, her fingers trailed lazily along the drenched folds of Susan’s flesh. “You’ll get what you want.”
      She ran her fingers through the damp, white curls of Susan’s mons, and down her slick thighs, making her squirm and whimper.
      Mal felt Susan’s fingers tangle in her hair, pulling her back up.
      “Gods, Do me,” Susan growled, biting Mal’s lower lip hard.
      “Oh,” Mal gasped, feeling her lip tear and close again. For a moment she tasted her own blood. She kissed Susan fiercely. “Do that again,” she panted against Susan’s lips. She found Susan’s clit, circling it gently. She kissed Susan, softly. “Please. Do it again.”
      Susan closed her eyes, briefly, sighing with pleasure at Mal’s touch.
      “Mmm...”
      She stroked Mal’s cheek, even as her hips arched towards Mal’s circling fingers, cupping Mal’s face in her hand and pulling her closer. She ran her tongue over Mal’s lips, parting them deftly, kissing her deeply. She sucked Mal’s lower lip and Mal stroked Susan’s clit, moving faster, her fingers slipping easily in Susan’s wetness.
      Susan’s teeth closed hard on Mal’s lower lip, and she jerked her head just slightly.
      “Oh!” Mal moaned, as Susan sucked at her lip once more. Mal felt the wetness between her own legs, slick and slippery, wanting to be touched again. Between Susan’s legs, she circled faster, wanting to bring Susan to climax, wanting to thank her.
      She could hear someone – Ella? – whimpering on the edge of climax and someone else – was that Sally? – moaning, urging her partner on. She was aware, faintly, of the door opening again but, much closer at hand, she could feel Susan’s body trembling, Susan’s hips arching and straining against her quick fingers. The scent of her need was overwhelming.
      “Please, gods,” Susan whispered, arching her back, grinding against Mal’s hand. “Yes! Gods, yes, there!” Mal listened, fingers circling tightly, as Susan’s cries became wordless, as her climax overtook her, as, breath hitching in her throat, she came down again. Mal stroked Susan’s swollen lips more softly, coaxing her aftershocks to the surface. Mal lifted her own fingers to her lips, lapping Susan’s wetness from them, fastidiously. She gazed at Susan, noticing the softness of her features. For a moment, all her iciness was gone.
      Susan sat up, her tight, white curls framing her face. Her gaze flicked over Mal’s body and, just like that, the steel was back.
      “You did well,” she murmured, a gleam in her eyes. “Very well.”
      She dropped a kiss on Mal's lips and got to her feet, her dark skirts skimming her hips, as she made her way across the room.
      Getting to her knees, Mal followed Susan with her eyes, watched as she settled herself beside Ella.
      “I’ve been with you before,” Ella murmured as Susan gathered her close.
      “Not like this,” came Susan’s answer, as she bent towards Ella. “Never as myself.”
      As Ella leaned into Susan’s kiss, Mal looked around her. It had been Angua who had joined Adora Belle, she saw, or so it seemed. Angua’s head was buried between Adora’s trembling thighs, and Adora was squirming and arching, her dark hair spread across the carpet, groaning blissfully as Angua’s mouth moved on her. She turned her head and saw Lofty and Tonker wrapped in each other’s arms. Lofty had shed much of her clothing, and Mal could see it scattered over the carpet around them, but Tonker was still dressed, for the most part at least, in the colourful clothing she’d worn to the bar.
      Mal found herself wondering why that might be, but a familiar voice caught her attention. Polly, gasping and sighing as Sally slipped her hand between her legs. Mal watched as Polly reached up, pulling Sally closer and kissing her deeply.
     
      “Zey’re beautiful, aren’t zey?” a voice murmured in her ear.
      “Yes,” Mal answered, not looking away.
      A kiss landed on her shoulder, through the dark cloth of her shirt, followed by another one.
      “So are you,” Lady Margolotta continued, softly. “It’s been years since I last vas able to touch you,” she whispered, huskily, as Mal tilted her head. Margolotta kissed her way along Mal’s throat, making her pulse jump under her skin. “Von’t you touch me now?”
      “Yes,” Mal whispered, turning at last.
      Margolotta’s elaborate coiffure had been undone and her hair fell in shining, black waves down her back. For all that she was moving rapidly through her third century, her breasts were still high and her lips, oh, her lips were still so soft, so sure.
      Mal leaned into the kiss, her lips parting, welcoming the touch of Margolotta’s tongue against her own. Mal slipped a hand under Margolotta’s angora sweater, pulling her closer.
      The first time she’d been with the Lady had been just after she’d gone cold bat. It hadn’t been the last.
      “Take this off,” Mal murmured, helping to slip the sweater over Margolotta’s head. The Lady shrugged it off, not a hair out of place, and discarded it, pulling Mal back into her arms. She stroked Mal’s throat with gentle fingers, bending to kiss her way down Mal’s neck, and further down, taking Mal’s nipple in her mouth.
      Mal’s breath caught in her throat.
      Margolotta had a good memory.
      She shuddered deliciously, tangling her fingers in Margolotta’s long hair, as the Lady’s teeth grazed her nipple.
      She thought she could hear Polly tumbling over the edge of her own climax, and silently wished her well. She let her hands slide over Margolotta’s body, tracing the length of her spine, the curve of her hip, finding the buttons that fastened her dove grey skirts closed. Margolotta slipped the shirt from Mal’s shoulders, running her hands over Mal’s newly exposed skin, as Mal lifted her chin to kiss her mouth once more.
      “I’ve missed this,” Margolotta murmured against Mal’s lips. She smelled faintly of valley lilies and wood violets and a little of cedar bark. Mal leaned into her kiss, running her hand over the swell of Margolotta’s small breast. She felt someone else touch her shoulder with a smooth hand.
      “Mmm?”
      “Don’t stop on my account,” Sally murmured, brushing her lips over Mal’s back. “Just let me join in the fun.”
      Margolotta chuckled, delightedly.
      “Hello, my treasure,” she whispered. “Back for more, I see.”
      She leaned over Mal’s shoulder to Kiss Sally, and Mal bent her head, pressing her own lips to Margolotta’s throat.
      She felt Sally’s arm come around her, sliding between her body and Margolotta’s, Sally’s hand cupping her small breast.
      “Come here, soldier,” she heard someone say, not to her.
      “Hello,” To Polly.
      Mal ran her hand over Sally’s thigh, sucked gently on Margolotta’s earlobe and felt her shiver. She felt Sally’s hand slip between her legs, sliding in the wetness gathered there and making Mal tremble at her touch. She leaned back, pressing closer to Sally, giving her more room, and Margolotta followed, leaning closer, her arm reaching around Mal to Sally, her mouth moving slowly down and down, to tease Mal’s swollen nipples again. She felt Sally’s teeth graze her shoulder and her breath caught in her throat. Below, Margolotta slipped a nipple into her mouth, nibbling it gently, making Mal shiver with need. Between Mal’s legs, Sally’s fingers circled Mal’s clit, sending ripples of pleasure through her body.
      “Gods,” she breathed, arching her hips against Sally’s hand, as the ripples became waves. “Uh-huh.” She shuddered, sandwiched between Sally and Margolotta, her stomach clenching hard, as the waves finally crested and broke over her.
      “Thank you,” she whispered, panting, as she came down again.
      She turned to kiss Sally’s cheek, shifting to let Margolotta get closer to Sally.
      She kissed Sally’s mouth, her neck, her shoulder, as Sally pulled Margolotta into her arms for what must have been the second time that night.
      “My treasure, come here,” Margolotta murmured, urgenty, pulling Sally closer.
      Mal looked up as Sally met Margolotta’s lips with her own.
      Across the room, she saw Lofty with Tonker and Polly. Tonker had laid Polly on her back, her mouth moving over Polly’s small breasts. Lofty looked up from kissing Polly’s mouth, even as Polly’s back arched, and her hand came up to grip Tonker’s copper braids.
      Lofty met Mal’s eyes, a shy smile on her lips. She raised her eyebrows in invitation.
      Mal smiled, and nodded, getting to her feet a little unsteadily. She heard Margolotta sigh, pressing Sally to the floor.
      Mal spared her two league-mates a last glance, smiling as she watched them twining together, and took a step towards Lofty.
      She stepped, carefully, over moaning, coupling bodies and couples who had begun to doze in each others’ arms, moving on trembling legs, until she sank to her knees by Lofty’s side.
     
      “You called?” she murmured.
      Lofty’s answer was a kiss, soft, on Mal’s cheek, and the touch of her fingers, trailing lightly over Mal’s breast. Mal felt her nipple stiffen at the touch.
      “May I?” she murmured, gathering Lofty into her arms.
      Mal had learned about the Grey Houses, once upon a time, and she could guess what might have happened to Lofty while she was there. Despite the fact that Lofty was here, at all, Mal was still anxious about taking her farther than she’d want to go and so touched her carefully,
      “Is this alright?” Mal whispered, running her fingers gently along the inside of Lofty’s thigh. She kissed the diminutive woman softly on her earlobe, her jaw. “Is this?”
      Lofty turned, pressing a finger lightly to Mal’s lips.
      “You won’t hurt me,” she breathed, and her eyes gleamed with a light that had nothing to do with flames. “It’s Magda who needs it gentle.”
      She pulled Mal’s mouth to her own, kissing her fiercely. Mal felt Lofty’s teeth graze her lip, and shivered, wanting more, wanting deeper. She wrapped her arms around Lofty, pulling her closer and was surprised when Lofty spilled her onto the carpet.
      Mal turned her head and caught sight, briefly, of red braids spilled over a taught belly, heard Polly’s familiar voice whimper with pleasure. Then Lofty was on top of her, capturing her mouth, and Mal let her eyes drift closed, tangling her fingers in Lofty’s dark hair. She let her hands move over Lofty’s soft skin, felt her shiver as Mal's hands slipped over the hard smoothness of scar tissue.
      “I’m sorry,” Mal murmured, pulling away.
      “Don’t be,” Lofty answered in a fierce whisper, running her fingers through Mal’s short hair. “You didn’t do that to me.”
      Mal shifted, easing Lofty onto her back. There were scars here, to, although not as many, and Mal traced her fingers lightly over Lofty’s small breasts, her belly.
      Lofty smiled, pulling Mal close again, claiming her mouth hungrily. Mal stroked Lofty’s nipple gently, teasing it until it hardened, rolling it between her fingers until Lofty’s breath was coming in gasps.
      “Are you sure you don’t—” Mal overheard, beside them.
      “I’m sure. Just lie back and let me—”
      “Okay.”
      Mal breathed the wood smoke and dry leaves of Lofty’s unique scent, kissing Lofty’s throat.
      “Tell me you want more,” she whispered, needing to hear it.
      “I do,” Lofty breathed, stroking Mal’s cheek, and kissing her again. “I want more.” Mal let her hand creep lower, her fingers trailing over Lofty’s thighs, dipping between them, touching her lightly, finding the sensitive node of her clit and circling it with a slick finger. She watched at Lofty shifted under her, moving her hips rhythmically against Mal’s flickering touch. Lofty’s eyes drifted closed and her breath came, shallow and panting.
      Nearby, Mal heard Polly whimper again.
      Lofty may have had her own reasons for learning to keep silent, but Mal recognized the quickening of her breath, the way her thighs tensed and untensed, as she began to climax. When Lofty’s back arched and her stomach muscles spasmed, her arms tightening around Mal’s body, as she gasped for breath, Mal knew that she had gone over the edge. And when her breathing slowed, and her eyes drifted open again, she knew that she was back once more.
      Mal raised her eyebrows, questioning.
      Lofty smiled, slipping her own hand between Mal’s legs.
      Mal sighed, as Lofty’s mouth met hers again, as Lofty’s fingers twitched between her legs.
      “You don’t have to—” Mal began.
      “I want to,” Lofty murmured, her lips brushing against Mal’s.
      “Alright,” Mal breathed, her stomach fluttering as Lofty’s gentle fingers found her swollen clit. Mal winced as her fingers made contact, even that light touch being too much so soon after all her activity.
      “I’m sorry,” Lofty murmured, pulling away.
      “Not your fault,” Mal answered, gently, running her fingers through Lofty’s hair. “After all that, I think I must need a rest.”
      Nearby, she heard Polly sigh, long and drawn out and satisfied.
      “Tilda...” Mal heard Tonker whisper. They turned towards her voice, and Mal saw Tonker, her dark eyes only for Lofty.
      “She needs you,” she whispered, when Lofty glanced, briefly, at her.
      Mal watched her go, slipping into the circle of Tonker’s embrace, whispering “I’m here, I'm here,” into Tonker’s red hair, marvelling at her gentleness, and at Tonker’s need.
     
      Mal felt gentle fingers take her hand, and turned to see Polly watching her with her dark eyes. She felt her heart flutter as Polly drew her close.
      “Don’t say anything,” Polly whispered. “Just let me hold you.”
      She let herself be pulled into Polly’s familiar embrace, to be surrounded by her scent. They had done this before, lain together for warmth and comfort, even for the sake of a less expensive room in a run-down inn. But this was different. This time, there was no cloth to separate them. Polly’s hands stroked Mal’s body, and Mal found herself trembling at the touch. Her own fingers traced the lines of scar tissue the sliced across Polly’s pale skin. At least she knew where these ones had come from, the shallow slice across Polly's lower back that had narrowly missed her spine, the hundred nicks and punctures she had taken blocking worse injuries with her arms and shoulders.
      “So many scars,” she whispered, brushing her fingers over Polly’s many-times-healed shoulder.
      “Like you don’t have any,” Polly answered, softly, running her fingers through Mal’s hair.
      Mal raised an eyebrow. Scars? What scars? No scars here.
      “Vampire, remember?” she said, softly.
      “I didn’t mean on the outside,” Polly murmured. “How long have I known you, Mal?”
      “A while,” Mal answered, her nose brushing against Polly’s.
      “See? Don’t try to tell me you’ve never been hurt.”
      Mal’s mouth quirked.
      “Ella… Oh, gods…” she heard, from somewhere beyond the circle of Polly’s arms. She paid it no mind. She felt Polly shift closer, felt the heat of Polly’s body seeping into her own. She breathed the scent of honey, dark and thick, of cinnamon and cardamom, the scent of Polly, and felt her desire rekindled.
      “Polly,” she breathed, stroking her partner’s skin.
      “Mm-hmm?” Mal could feel Polly’s breath on her lips, her friend’s eyes were dark.
      “Let me—?” but Polly’s lips, soft on her own, cut Mal off.
      Mal melted into that kiss, her lips parting, opening to Polly, their tongues meeting and tasting each other. Polly’s hand brushed Mal’s side, making Mal shiver, pulling Polly closer, their legs tangling together.
      “Mal,” Polly murmured against her lips, her fingers brushing the edge of Mal’s breast.
      “Yes,” she kissed Polly again, more deeply, every close call, every “Damn, I thought I’d lost you, today,” finding its way into that kiss.
      “Gods,” Polly breathed, her hand stroking Mal’s throat, her shoulder. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”
      “Does it matter,” Mal whispered, kissing Polly’s throat, her shoulders, eagerly. She felt Polly arch towards her mouth, and moved lower.
      “Oh,” Polly sighed, when Mal took Polly’s nipple in her mouth. She sucked gently, circling the swollen nub with her tongue, easing Polly onto her back as she did so.
      “Mal,” Polly whispered, running her fingers through Mal’s hair. “Come back to me?”
      Mal lifted her head, kissed her way back up to Polly’s mouth.
      “Like this?” she murmured, kissing her gently.
      “Yes,” Polly sighed, closing her eyes once more.
      Her hands drifted over Mal’s body, touching her lightly at first, then more insistently, planning her hips, her thighs.
      She cupped Mal’s breast, teasing the nipple with her thumb, sending new shivers through Mal’s already trembling body.
      “I want—” Polly began. “I want to touch you.”
      “I’m all yours,” Mal murmured, kissing her again. “You can do whatever you want with me.”
      Polly ran her hand down Mal’s back, rolling her over so that Polly could lie between her legs. Polly’s blond curls were just long enough to curtain them off from the rest of the world.
      “Really?” Polly asked, softly, circling Mal’s hard nipple with a light, teasing finger.
      “Mm-hmm,” Mal assured her, arching towards her touch.
      Polly kissed her mouth, sucking her lower lip carefully, as she stroked Mal’s nipples with her fingers. Slowly, so slowly, Polly’s mouth moved on Mal’s body, her kisses edging lower and lower. Mal found herself gasping, every nerve alight with anticipation. Polly’s teeth grazed a nipple, and Mal’s breath caught in her throat, and still Polly moved lower. Her tongue circled Mal’s navel, and Mal’s stomach fluttered under Polly's lips.
      “Please,” she breathed, arching against Polly’s mouth. “Please don’t make me wait.”
      She felt Polly take her hand, felt her mouth move lower still, to the wet place between her legs. The touch of Polly’s tongue sent a shock through her, making her hips jolt, sharply. Polly sucked the tender folds of flesh between Mal’s legs, her tongue moving in slow strokes over them, and Mal swallowed hard against the groan that threatened to escape her.
      When Polly’s tongue found Mal’s clit, circling it slowly, stroking the slick nub, Mal couldn’t hold back her moan of bliss. Polly’s tongue flickered against her, and ripples of pleasure spread through her body. Mal arched her hips towards Polly’s mouth, pressing her closer, silently pleading for release as the pressure in her abdomen mounted higher and higher. Finally, Oh, gods, finally! the pressure broke and her whole body spasmed with the release, her stomach clenching hard, the muscles in her thighs jumping and twitching, as shockwaves of pleasure rippled through her.
      “Polly,” she panted. “Oh, gods, Polly.” She guided Polly back to her, pulling her shield-mate into her arms. “That felt so good,” she whispered, kissing Polly, deeply, their tongues tangling together. She felt Polly’s breath deepen, panting.
      “Let me touch you like that?” Mal whispered.
      “Please, yes,” Polly murmured, kissing her hungrily. “I want you so much.”
      Mal eased Polly onto her back, fluttering kisses over her breasts, her hard nipples, her twitching abdomen. She ran her tongue from Polly’s navel to her breast bone, sucking first one nipple, then the other, wanting to make it good for her.
      Under her, Polly squirmed, arching toward's Mal's mouth, whimpering with need.
      Mal felt Polly’s fist grip her hair.
      “Please, gods,” Polly panted. “Mal, don't tease me!”
      Anything you want, beautiful girl, Mal thought, stroking Polly’s already quivering thighs with light fingers.
      Polly whimpered at her touch, arching her hips.
      “Mal, please!” she gasped.
      Mal lowered her head, fluttering kisses over Polly’s belly, her thighs, breathing the pungent scent of her need. She ran her tongue eagerly over the drenched folds of Polly’s flesh, hearing Polly groan at the contact.
      She found the hard nub of her clit and slipped it into her mouth, hearing Polly gasp as Mal laved her clit with firm strokes, sucking gently as she did.
      Mal could feel Polly’s abdomen beginning to spasm, Polly's thighs tightening on either side of her.
      “Oh, gods, Mal," Polly whimpered. "Oh, gods. Oh gods, don't stop. OhgodsohgodsohgodsohOh!” She felt Polly’s body spasm once, twice, three times, and then she heard Polly panting, taking great gulps of air.
      “Ah. Oh,” Polly gasped. “Oh, gods, Mal, that was wonderful.”
      Mal raised her head, licking her lips, savouring Polly’s salt taste again.
      “My pleasure,” Mal murmured, shifting to lie beside Polly. She kissed Polly’s lips, gently, pulling the other woman into her arms, stroking Polly's soft skin and breathing her scent.
      “Stay with me?” she whispered against Polly’s mouth.
      “I will," Polly answered, softly. "I promise, I will."
     
      ***
     
      A week later they were on their way back from Bonk, staying in another rickety inn, sharing another stuffy room, another narrow bed, just like they always had.
      Except that it was different.
      They hadn’t yet spoken about the night they’d spent in Margolotta’s house, and the experience had been hanging between them like a… like a large pink elephant on a string ever since.
      “Uh, Mal?” Polly said, letting the door to their shared room swing shut behind her.
      “Yeah, Sarge?”
      “Uh. Just Polly, right now, I think.”
      She glanced up as Polly sat down beside her on the bed, but Polly was studiously removing her boots, not looking back.
      Mal’s mouth quirked.
      “Can I take a stab in the dark here, Pol?” Mal asked, shrugging her military-issue shirt off over her head with most of the buttons still done up.
      “Be my guest,” Polly answered, beginning to work on her second boot.
      “Does this have anything to do with ‘what happens in Bonk stays in Bonk’?”<
      Polly glanced at her, side-long.
      “Must be nice to have good night vision,” she said, finally.
      Mal raised an eyebrow.
      “So that’s a yes?”
      Polly nodded, dropping her second boot on the floor.
      She looked up.
      “That’s a yes.”
      They looked at each other, silently.
      “Do you want it to? Stay in Bonk, I mean?” Mal asked at last, the first to look away.
      She heard Polly swallow, hard.
      “Do you?” Polly asked. Mal could hear the other woman’s heart racing.
      “That night, uh...” Mal ran a distracted hand through her hair. “You asked why we hadn’t... hadn't done that sooner.”
      Polly nodded.
      “Was that wrong?” she asked.
      “No,” Mal murmured. “No, it wasn’t wrong.” She swallowed, wondering how to ask the question she’d been carrying around inside her for the past seven days. “...Did you mean it?”
      Polly met Mal’s eyes.
      “Did you want me to mean it?”
      Mal groaned, inwardly. This was going nowhere.
      “Polly...” she trailed off, her mouth quirking nervously. “If I didn’t want you to mean it, I wouldn’t have asked.”
      Polly sighed, clearly relieved.
      She gave Mal a long look. “Do you have any idea,” she murmured, “how much I’ve wanted to do that?”
Mal laughed, the tension flowing out of her.
      “As much as I have?” she suggested.
      "Does that mean..." Polly leaned towards her, planting a hesitant kiss on Mal’s lips.
      “I think,” Mal murmured, reaching for Polly once more. “I think this will make work a lot more enjoyable.”
      Polly smiled at her, pulling Mal into her arms.
      “I think you’re right,” she answered, just as their lips met.
      And they said nothing more for a very long time.