Sid closed his eyes in abject joy, barely able to control himself. He was in a booth just adjacent the one normally known as "John and Tina's", but until a few seconds before, occupied by the Alaskan and another of those ridiculous Australians. After departing the confines of Tina's balcony when the rain became too much for him, he had made his way back to the Tavern. Moving stealthily as needed, he watched the sheriff until Lachlan excused him. Sid would have laughed had it not drawn attention to him. To see Tubby so uncoordinated that he kept dropping glassware...it was too funny for words. When John finally sat in the booth alone, Sid carefully observed at a distance, enjoying the spectacle of Biebe's obvious melancholy. But the show got better when O'Brien appeared, and eager to hear more than actually see, Sid silently made his way to where he now sat.
He rolled his eyes, wincing as Colin launched into another chorus of 'Waltzing Matilda'. These Aussies were bad enough when sober; drunk, Sid could barely tolerate them. But he could not jump up - too obvious. Besides, the sheriff was only now heading upstairs, an apparent spring in his step for he was now more encouraged at his prospects. Sid relaxed against the supple leather upholstery. "Not if I have anything to do with it," he whispered, wrapping his lips around a portion of the rim to the fine crystal containing his Bordeaux.
Biebe and O'Brien - what a couple of washed up nobodies. The idea that women of Tina and Michelle's caliber would even be attracted to them was puzzling to Sid's way of thinking. It was still difficult to believe that Laura had chosen "the General" over him, but so be it. Besides, that was another story. He needed to concentrate on the present, and what could possibly be a mind-boggling future.
Hmm, just like in the movies... he considered thoughtfully, an image from Kubrick's 'Eyes Wide Shut' coming into his mind. It was near the beginning, at the Christmas party, and two beautiful models were courting the Tom Cruise character - one on each arm. That was how Sid always visualized making an entrance and the idea of doing it with two of the CrowesNest's best known ladies was thrilling to him. Especially if it made their former lovers hide their thick heads in embarrassment.
It would serve them right - O'Brien and Biebe. Their lady loves...their *former* lady loves...escorted by beautiful me, say, to this year's Christmas or New Year's Eve parties. He sighed in anticipation. We'd be the talk of the Nest for weeks. I had hoped that honor would go to Laura, but.... He almost chuckled, but stopped himself. She'll be pea green so to speak when she sees what she *could* have had. Hmm...I wonder what would best suit my ladies so they won't clash with me. I've seen Tina wear red - very flattering; black suits her as does pale blues; and whites become her as well. And Michelle...while she does not dress up all the time, blues are quite fitting, as is.... He smiled dreamily ...as is green. I know of at least two very lovely outfits in the gift store right now that would be appropriate for both of them. I must show them to an advantage - so they can show *me* to one...'Ah that Sid' they'll say...'What wonderful tastes he has, and what splendid tastes Michelle and Tina have, coming to their senses at long last.' Yes, we'll make quite a little *menage a trois* so to speak.
Someone was talking to him. He looked up to see the always-helpful Andy standing over him. "I'm sorry young Andrew. What was that?"
"Would you like some more of your wine, Sid? The...uh...Bor...Bor...."
"Bordeaux? Oh, oh, no thank you, Andy," Sid purred, on his best behavior. "I am quite satisfied." He stifled a pretend yawn. "It is getting late, and I really should rest. It has been one hell of a day."
Andy nodded. "Sure has."
"Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day. Well," he stood, "good night Andy."
While Colin finished another chorus, this time of some sad Irish song that lamented the loss of a fair lass, Sid strolled towards the stairs quite nonchalantly. He saw Steve and Lachlan eyeing him suspiciously, but he simply smiled, bowing his head. Let them think I'm being a good boy...They have no idea.
Hando entered the room cautiously, not quite sure what he would find there. The overhead light was still on, and Syrena lay back on the bed with her feet, still in her boots, resting firmly on the floor. "Oh, Sy, at least take the boots off," he sighed and knelt at her feet to wrestle with the laces. Her jeans were still damp both from the waves that washed their feet at the base of the rock and the rain, and he struggled internally with the decision to remove them. His desire for her to be comfortable won out, and he moved quietly to remove the damp denim. Soon she lay before him in boxers and the heavy wool sweater, and she hadn't moved from her position. Her breathing was deep and even, not faltering when he slipped his arms beneath her body and lifted her to reposition her on the bed. He smiled and smoothed her hair back from her forehead before pulling the blankets over her sleeping form.
He turned out the overhead light and left the bedroom. The apartment was warm, and he turned on the kitchen light, taking a moment to look around. A small stack of dishes waited in the sink, but the countertop and stove were spotless. Bills and junk mail were piled on one end of the table, and two white tapers sat on the other end on either side of a fruit bowl filled with bananas and apples. Two computers sat on a massive desk next to the kitchen table, and various papers filled with notes were strewn around the monitors. Against the wall on his left sat a bookshelf filled with books ranging from fiction to history to reference, and he smiled. So many books on anarchy, Sy. And everyone treats me like I'm subversive. At the end of the bookshelf there stood a water cooler with a plant resting on top of the bottle, and a fully rigged mountain bike leaned against the wall beside the cooler. Against the outside wall a long couch stretched out with a rolled blanket at either end. Facing the couch there stood a dresser that served as an entertainment centre with a large television and a VCR. He walked through the living room, stepping carefully over a skein of yarn and a half-finished knitting project, and sat on the couch. Not too bad, he thought, and he leaned forward to remove his boots.
When he sat down, the heat of the apartment hit him full force, and he hurriedly removed his boots before standing to shuck his heavy jacket. Syrena's parka was resting across the crossbar of her bicycle, so he laid his jacket atop hers. Still feeling the heat, he pulled his braces off his shoulders and slid out of his jeans, leaving them in a pile next to his boots, and laid down on the couch. He took a deep breath and slowly started to fade into slumber in spite of the kitchen light he'd left on when Syrena moaned loudly in the bedroom. He sat up abruptly, wondering what he should do, then leapt to his feet when she moaned again. The kitchen light cast a dim glow into the bedroom, and he stood in the doorway watching her for a moment. She had kicked the blankets to the foot of the bed, and she moved her head restlessly as though she were dreaming. "Sy? Hey, love, it's okay," he whispered as he approached the bed.
"Mmm... too damn hot," she mumbled.
"Ok, just a tick." Hando helped her to sit up and carefully pulled the heavy wool sweater off over her head. She immediately laid back down against the pillows, murmuring her thanks, and was asleep again. He ran his fingertips across her forehead, feeling the sweat beading there, and sat worriedly on the edge of the bed. Shit, does she have a fever? It's too bloody hot in here. In the dim light of the bedroom he saw a thermostat on the wall near the bedroom door, and he moved to turn it down--it wasn't on at all. He stepped out into the hallway, even the linoleum floor felt warm under his feet, and he found the thermostat in the kitchen and turned it off completely. He crossed the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Two water bottles lay waiting on the shelf, icy cold and refreshing, so he took one and held it to his forehead for a moment. What do I do now? If I sleep on the couch, I might not hear her if she needs me. If I sleep in the bed, what will she think? Bugger all, Hando, pull yourself together. Couch or bed? Couch or bed?
He turned slowly, listening carefully to her steady breathing from the bedroom, and, closing the refrigerator, he turned out the kitchen light and made his way to the couch in the darkness. Sighing deeply, he laid back on the couch, holding the water bottle against his chest, and closed his eyes willing sleep to come. Some time later he was awakened from his slumber by Syrena's voice calling out to him, filled with fear, and he was at her bedside within seconds. "Sy? I'm here, it's okay," he said, reaching out to touch her left hand.
She sat up abruptly, looked at him with the blank eyes of sleep and grabbed his arm. He felt himself being pulled toward her, and he gave in to the pressure. She blinked her eyes, awakening suddenly, and gazed at him then at his arm gripped in her free hand. "Whoa, sorry, Hando. I was dreaming. I dreamed that... that I missed you and you fell." She released his arm, passed her hand before her eyes, clearing the memory of the dream from them, and laid back against the pillows again. "Stay," her intonation was not one of request, and Hando obliged, sliding beneath the blankets. He lay on his side, watching her intently: her eyes were closed again, and her breath evened out as she drifted back to sleep. Satisfied that she was sleeping peacefully, he rolled onto his back with his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling in the darkness. The cadence of her breath soothed him, and he soon followed her lead and passed into a deep dreamless sleep at her side.
The pale light of an overcast morning crept through the blinds to find Syrena sleeping with her head resting on Hando's chest and his arm cast around her shoulders. Hando woke reluctantly, wondering if he was dreaming, and found himself waking by her side for the second morning in a row. The weight of her head on his chest brought a smile to his face, and he ran his fingers through her hair. She moaned softly and rolled away from him then sat up, suddenly awake with a growl. "Mmm... ow."
"Are you okay, love? Can I get you anything?" Hando sat up, gazing at her solicitously.
"Yeah, hon, I'm fine, just a bit sore. Could you hand me the water bottle there on the floor?"
"Here ya go. Anything else?"
Syrena took a long drink of water then shook her head. "Thanks." She leaned back against the pillows again, smiling contentedly, and she drew him down to rest his head on her good shoulder.
"Sy?"
"Yeah, Hando?"
"What did you say last night in the hospital?"
"I said something?"
"Yeah, when you were waking up. You grabbed my arm and said something... foreign. What was it?"
"Ahh, yes. Was it, 'Te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras, secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma'?"
"That's it. What does it mean, and what does it have to do with me?"
"Ah, well...," she hesitated, and he raised his head from her shoulder to look into her eyes inquiringly. "It's from a sonnet by Pablo Neruda, from a book he called 'Cien Sonetos de Amor' or 100 Love Sonnets. I guess you just being there made me think of it."
"And it means?"
She took a deep breath and looked into his wondering eyes, fixing his green gaze with her own, "It means, 'I love you as certain dark things do, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.'" Sighing again, she closed her eyes and let her head drop onto the pillows behind her.
Back within the elegant confines of his apartment, Sid 6.7 paced the floor with the deliberate care of a stalking cat. For the prior half-hour, he had concentrated on the matter at hand -- the wooing and eventual winning of the fair Tina and Michelle, his mind determined to work through a plan before morning.
On reaching the second floor, Sid had paused briefly outside the door of John Biebe's rooms. Because of the soundproofing, he could only imagine what the fool was doing in there, and the thought made Sid hurry to formulate his own arrangements. If only the sheriff had continued his drinking binge with Colin, the cyber-psycho would have had no need to rush. Now, however, Biebe was sobering and making his own plans to win back Tina.
"John's such a fool," Sid remarked on reaching his sanctuary. "He's so undeserving of her, soul-mate or not. And I can imagine him in there now, wondering what he can do to obtain her forgiveness and affections. As I said though, not if I have anything to do with it."
He could remember Biebe as being one of those who had been in the forefront of ending his fun and games the previous night. That was enough to put him at the top of Sid's revenge list for this particular event. And often, John had a tendency to be even more annoying than "the Spaniard" did because the sheriff usually remained so even-tempered. Oh, Maximus had a certain stoicism to him, almost to the point of making him such a pain in the ass, Sid considered, but John.... The man's voice rarely went above his usual calm level. Seeing him perform so out-of-character tonight could only mean one thing: the trouble between him and his beloved Tina had nearly pushed him to the edge. Sid could not help but chuckle again, recalling how poor Tubby had become all thumbs tonight.
Colin O'Brien was another exasperating matter. The Aussie would be lucky if he sobered up by the Fourth of July, and at the rate he was imbibing, that might be stretching it a bit. From what little Sid had heard of the finale to Michelle's meeting with O'Brien, their relationship was almost irreparably damaged.
Yes, it seemed that both men had a great deal of making up to do, and thankfully, it wouldn't be easy. Sid had time to woo Michelle, however. Tina -- her favors would have to be won immediately before Biebe reconciled with her. The circuits replayed the conversation between John and Colin, and a smirk emerged on Sid's lips. Just a little adjustment here and there about the flow of events, making the sheriff's part in it appear worst. "Let's see what else I can...Oh, I know. Tina...both of them were practically vomiting they were so drunk, and everyone in the bar was humiliated for you ladies. The two of them drunkenly cursing any of the ladies whom have made the CrowesNest your second home. Oh, and the things those two mumbled about you and dearest Michelle...."
Sid now put on an even more sympathetic face, if that was possible. "Ah, Sid...That was beautiful. All right, what's next. Oh Tina, to hear John say such things about you cherie, I knew he had to be intoxicated. There was no other explanation. It is incredible what alcohol will make a person confess, or how it will reveal their inner selves..." Sid shook his head sadly. "Tina...I-I could not...You must remember that John was...." He pretended to take her shivering hand. "John called you and Michelle and all the other ladies that hideous word -- bitch. Said that you couldn't tell him how to speak or feel, and you were so overly sensitive about things....'I'll say Tina you bitch, I'll say whatever I damn well please. You don't own me....' Oh, it was so...All I could think was how hurt you would be.... Oh Etienne...Etienne, don't cry. Biebe's not worth it. He's not worth it. But as I said he was intoxicated and...."
Sid paused again, grinning. He would have to play it just right, or Tina would never believe him. She knew him too well, would think him lying anyway. He had to be persuasive, appealing to that tender side of hers that would be hurt by what she supposed were John's words, and in just the right moment, would accept Sid's kindness. Tina was not hard hearted -- she just never trusted him, and he needed to change that. Removing a white rose from one of the numerous vases, he "offered" it to her. "I would not see you hurt for the world, Tina. You deserve so much more, and to see you distraught...." He could hear her denials, her arguments, collapsing in a shower of tears. "Perhaps you didn't now John as well as you'd believed. I'm sorry for that." There -- just enough to widen the gulf even more. "Despite all which has happened between us in the past...well, I would never desire to see you hurt. Especially hurt by a man for whom you gave your heart."
Sid now stopped in front of a gilded full-length mirror. For months he had watched Sheriff Pudgy's relationship with Tina -- Tina whose brown eyes once held such a distant sadness, but now that was nearly faded away thanks to her affections for the Alaskan. Just as for some time he had observed Colin's winning of Michelle. He felt he knew what these women desired in their chosen men, to Sid's disbelief, but so be it.
The debut of the new Sid 6.7 must begin before dawn. He would make his way to her suite again, praying that both girlfriends had left her alone for the night. She would be feeling empty; the strain of the day having left her physically and mentally exhausted. Perhaps all she would desire was to sleep away her pain, or spend the night in waking tears, attempting to decide whether to reconcile with Tubby. Sid would show up bearing a gift of white roses - which he knew was her favorite flower - and he could visualize the shock and disgust she would reveal on seeing him at her door. Tina's eyes would roll; there would be angry complaints, and then --
I will tell her how sorry I am to have heard of her problems. In very ladylike terms she'll tell me 'go to hell, Sid'. I will explain that I hardly blame her for feeling that way, because I have been so loathsome in the past. But there are times when I am boisterous only to cover the fact that I am lonely. I may have had my choice of a few women here in the Nest, but for the most part, I have been alone these five years of existence here. That will take her aback. I must move cautiously, not raise suspicions for she will definitely have them, with good reason. I must find a way to get - as they say - my foot in the door. Move with speed, but not frighten her....
He continued to mull over option A, then a sly smile appeared on her lips. Option B would apply if he found her asleep...What then? That should not prevent him from achieving his goal, and in a way, it might be even more desirable. Tina would become his, and not even realize it at first. Staring at his beautiful reflection, Sid cleared his throat, and with the greatest ease murmured, "Tina darlin'...I'm so sorry...Tina...I was stupid. Please forgive me." Sid shook his head. Perfect. He had John Biebe's ridiculous accent down impeccably.
He sighed, imagining her groggily whispering back, "John?" He would approach her from behind, lying next to her, caressing her as he had often observed the sheriff doing when neither knew they were being watched. No, he had never watched them make love, but he had seen the two kiss or embrace, and Sid had carefully memorized the details of John's movements. So, Tina would whisper 'his' name, and he would proceed. "Sweetheart...forgive me, please. I was stupid and...and I don't want to lose you." Delighted but tired, Tina would eagerly accept his 'apology' and still partially sleep, allow him to become one with her. The thought caused the cyber-psycho to chuckle deeply. He had wanted her from the evening she first strolled into Crowe's Tavern; lonely, so full of passion, just waiting for the right man to awaken what she hid.
First she believed it to be the General. Then Tubby -- poor old Tubby. I wish I could have heard your parking lot argument with ma chere Etienne. Perhaps now she will realize the two of you have as much in common as grand opera would with a rock concert.
He paused again as another problem cropped into his fantasy. If she awoke too much, she would definitely notice, even in the heat of passion, that things were not right. No matter how well Sid might imitate the sheriff in certain aspects, there were other differences he could not afford for Tina to notice. And that would mean the end of what should become a beautiful relationship. Studying his reflection even closer, he allowed one hand to carefully touch his perfectly coifed reddish-blonde hair. Hmm, with a good deal of shampoo and a thorough rinse, he might be able to get it to flow the way Biebe wore his. The long scruffy look, Sid groaned. I know my hair would at least be that length if I desired it all over the place. I, however, do not choose to go that route. All right...perhaps now if necessary.... But there were other problems as well. He could not grow a beard or even stubble in the next few hours, and there was one other annoying factor. Sid ran a hand over his suit, feeling the muscular frame that was underneath. He and his brother had such diverse bodies, and Tina would obviously notice if she became too aware. And let us face it Sid...Under no circumstances am I planning on burying myself under all that disgusting whale blubber...not even for the charming Etienne. Well yes, some of the women around here don't consider him fat -- they keep talking about his...what do they call it -- his beefy arms, and his legs, and his chest. Ugh. I've heard their whispers: Tina, Laura, Stef with her ridiculous little 'Tio' comments; Syrena - and I must not forget about that little.... Well, I'll take care of her later...first things first. And Kath, and Trisha, and Michelle, and Angelina, and.... What the hell do they find so handsome about Mr. Alaska?
Even if he had the time to prepare himself a la Russell, he doubted he wished to go that route. Gaining weight was a bit too extreme, and besides, there were other ways he could win her besides becoming big and fat, for he knew that was not what had drawn her to Biebe. No, there were other things....
Exactly as it would be when it came to conjuring those mannerisms which had attracted Michelle to the now pathetic O'Brien. Heaven's Burning might not be as well known as some of Russell's other movies, but there had been something in the little flick that won Michelle's heart. Just as there had been some aspect of Mystery, Alaska that had won Tina. It was definitely more than physical appearances, and Sid knew he had to stress those emotions and actions that made Colin and John what they were.... His brothers -- his two stupid brothers.
Hando's heart beat loud in his chest upon hearing her words, and he lowered his eyes. Her breath came steadily, as though she had once again succumbed to sleep, and he shook his head. Between the shadow and the soul, shadow and soul, the lyrical words spun through his head and, like a caress, enfolded his heart, and he took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her. A sudden fear rushed through him. In all the years he'd spent at the Nest, nobody had ever brought out such emotion in him, and at once he felt as though he were drowning. Keeping his eyes downcast, he pushed himself away from her, moving to crawl out of the bed.
"Hando?"
Her voice made him hesitate, but he couldn't answer. His thoughts whirled, and his muscles tensed, hoping both that she would reach out to stop him and that she would remain lying unmoving against the pillows. She opened her eyes, and he looked away, seemingly interested in the stereo that sat at the bedside, shaking his head. The tape on the back of her hand was peeling back at the corners, but the hand didn't move from its resting place against the dark coverlet. "I... gotta use the lave," he muttered, and he turned and stalked out of the bedroom. He closed the bathroom door behind him and stood there in the dark with his back against the door and his face lifted toward the ceiling.
"What are you doing, Hando?" he asked himself, whispering in the darkness. "Everything you've ever loved has left you, you sick fuck. Why should this be any different?" He turned on the light, blinking in the white brightness, and looked around the bathroom. The decor was sparse but organized. His thoughts passed briefly over the choice of colours throughout the apartment, wondering why she had chosen such dark colours as dark green and black, but a glimpse of his reflection sent such thoughts fleeing back into the recesses of his miind. "Look at yourself," he told the image in the mirror. "You've already hurt her enough, haven't you? She doesn't really love you, you sod. It's the pain and the drugs talking, you know that. She helped you, now you can help her by leaving." His reflection nodded back at him, and he set his jaw firmly before opening the bathroom door. He passed by the bedroom door, trying not to look in on her, and strode to the couch and lowered his body onto it sighing heavily.
Dark things, between the shadow and the soul. He couldn't stop the thought from coming to the forefront, and he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cushions of the couch. He shook his head, trying to banish what she'd said, and leaned forward to gather his jeans, still in a pile on the floor beside his boots. Dark things. Shadow and soul. The jeans made it to mid-thigh before he leaned back again, grinding his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut forcefully. "Get with it, Hando," he hissed under his breath. "It won't work, and you bloody well know it."
"What won't?" Syrena stood near the end of the bookshelf looking slightly disheveled with her good arm wrapped around her body, her hand cupping her elbow through the sling.
"Shit! I... shit," he stammered and leapt to his feet, pulling his jeans up and buttoning them hastily. How much did she hear? He grabbed his boots angrily and shoved his feet into them, not bothering to tie the laces, and crossed the floor in front of her to retrieve his jacket. Swinging it over his shoulder, he turned to the door and grabbed the door knob, turning it and pulling forcefully. The deadbolt held the door fast, and he felt Syrena's hand light on his shoulder. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the cool metal of the door, took a deep breath and felt his coat slip from his fingers and fall to the floor. The gentle touch of her fingers as she ran them down his arm, tracing the outline of the tattoo there, sent shivers through his spine, and he pressed harder into the coolness of the door.
"Hando?" her voice was barely a whisper, her breath warm against the back of his neck as she took a step closer.
"How can you say that?" he groaned, trying to control the reaction of his body to her touch. Dark things between the shadow and the soul, the thought rose unbidden, and he tightened his jaw feeling the heat building within him.
"I meant it, Hando," she breathed, her hand completing its journey to entwine her fingers with his, her lips almost touching his neck. "I--"
His resolve broke, and he wheeled around, stopping her murmured words with his lips. The passion inside him welled to the surface, and he untangled his fingers from hers and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him as he leaned against the metallic coolness of the door. His tongue sought entry and gained it, and the kiss deepened until his head whirled out of control--Dark things, between the shadow and the soul. She leaned against him awkwardly, flinching slightly away from his embrace on the right side. A soft sound emanated from her throat, and he remembered her injury, breaking the kiss abruptly and pulling back to look into her eyes. "Did I hurt you?"
"No, love, I'm fine," her breath cooled his burning lips, and passion had darkened her eyes to a deep hue of green.
He smiled warmly and leaned toward her again, bringing up his hand and running it through her hair to draw her to him again. His touch was light, and the coolness of the door had faded against the heat that coursed through his veins. The clock ceased to tick, and minutes wasted away as his tongue explored the taste of her with a tenderness that surprised even him. He heard a deep rumbling moan and realized that it had come from him, and, deep down, he began to admit to himself that he was falling in love with her, too. Growling in his throat he pushed away from the door, turning slowly without breaking the kiss and drawing her down to the couch with him.
Sid gazed at his reflection again, studying every flawless detail. He could not thank his Creator enough for making him so perfect it sometimes amazed even him. Once more, he wondered why all the women drawn to the Crowes Nest had such trouble choosing him over the others with thier numerous blemishes. Some of them, like Tina, found him disgusting from the first meeting, which was puzzling. Others, Laura for example, *learned* to loathe him. A third group tolerated him -- such as Michelle, and there was a tiny fourth one which did find him quite stimulating and would forgive him almost anything. he could not understand why there were such diverse feelings towards him.
He recalled Michelle's arrival at the Nest. He still kicked himself for not being the one who escorted her to her room. No, he had been off stalking some other delightful creature, and that privilege had gone to John. John then introduced her to Bud...and then she was finally drawn to Colin. If I had not been otherwise detained, lovely Michelle would now be mine. And had I not suggested some darker side on her part, Tina could be mine as well, instead of finding protection with the Three Stooges. Let's face it. I played the wrong hand. Now, I must rectify my errors.
It took a moment, but soon it appeared: tentative, lopsided; the smile a mirror image of the one Biebe often wore. Sid cocked his head, allowing his eyes to glow shyly as he lowered them. If he tried hard enough, a blush might even appear, although if it was a soft blue instead of a tinge of red, the effect would be ruined.
"Excellent Sid," he purred, performing the smile again until he was more than satisfied. "No...I must not sound as though I am a gift of God, although I am." He concentrated, and in a softer voice said, "I was wondering Tina if maybe sometime..." There. That was Biebe exactly, but not so much sh'ell think me mocking him. I must be...subtle. "Tina...maybe sometime when you're up to it, you'd like to uh...well, to have coffee or tea with me, or go to the movies..." Oh Sid -- outstanding. You sound just like Biebe without the accent. A better Biebe! Now to see the entire effect. With the greatest ease, Sid adjusted his stance, established the twinkle and smile, and even pretended his hair was loose so he could casually sweep it back as though second nature. "Sweetheart...I know your smiles...and...well, I think one of them may be for me." Bashfully lowering his head, he continued, "I...I never knew I'd meet someone like you, darlin'. The Nest is never the same when you're not here."
Stop it Sid! You're scaring yourself. he chuckled. I wonder: could I sacrifice my own impeccable tastes to don sweaters, plaid flannel shirts and jeans. I haven't dressed that...*down* since I wore that hideous outift to escape the lab, or that ill-becoming jumpsuit. But often, sacrifices must be made for love.
Eyeing himself closer, he swept away his jacket, then carefully rolled up the sleeves of the Italian silk shirt that caressed his frame. Almost any sacrifice but that, he thought, running a finger over his upper left arm. No getting fat like chubby John, and no tattoo under any circumstances. There is no way in hell this gorgeous body will be ruined by such an obscene blemish. Once more he stroked the rippling muscles, flexing them adoringly. "Oh Sid...how could Michelle and Tina resist you? And once I'm finished...." His smile broadened. "Michelle...what will I do to win Michelle? But of course...If I can become John, I can very easily...."
He bowed his head again, and when he looked back at his likeness, it was no longer Sid 6.7 he saw, but his Australian brother, complete with those atrocious sideburns. All right Sid...promise yourself several things, no matter how much you crave those lovelies: you're not putting on weight, there will be no tattoo, and no sideburns. Doesn't O'Brien know that the Elvis look went out of style the year the King died? And of course he had to contend with another of those hideous wardrobes: more jeans - what was it with the jeans? - and this time likely a T-shirt. He rubbed his forehead; if it were possible for him to have a migraine, he would have been getting one now. Flannel, sweaters, jeans, t-shirts. Only Bud and Maximus dressed with worse fashion.
But again, as with Tina, it was obvious that the wardrobe had not won Michelle's heart and affections. Sid tried to remember the first time he had seen her come into contact with O'Brien. Bud White had taken her to where the Aussie quietly sat, having a beer with some of his other "mates". Colin knew who she was, but he was a loner, the type who didn't initiate a conversation or an encounter, therefore he had never introduced himself to her. He was also the type who let the world surge around him, and he normally took things as they came.
That was why the first meeting with Michelle threw everyone at the Nest, especially Sid. He recalled that the former bank robber was the first of the men to jump to their feet in order to shake her hand...and from that moment the connection was made. The loner was no longer alone, and Sid watched as the Aussie and his soul mate talked and talked...and talked, until even the cyber-maniac grew tired and left. They had been in conversation for nearly three hours, which was a record for the usually reticent Colin. Three hours of seriousness, laughter, joking, quiet contemplation, and there was no sign of an end when Sid got up, disgusted, and retired to his apartment.
And the lovely Michelle was his. What a shame. What a fucking shame! He's only proven he has no idea what to do with a woman of her worth, and Biebe has shown his true colors as well. Neither of them are worthy companions.
Sid sighed and allowed his sculptured features to grow softer, bashful, and when he spoke, his voice had taken on a softer tone that had the slightest hint of a more cultured Australian accent. "Michelle..." He paused, looking away momentarily, then at the mirror again. Tears began to form in his emerald eyes. "Michelle...I would like nothing better than to take you in my arms, and dance the rest of the night with you. I would like nothing more...than to make love to you for the rest of my life." He held forward his hands. "I know...you were the keeper of his, but right now...I wish you to be the keeper of mine...and my heart. I will never hurt you as others have. I will never hurt you as he has." Sid tentatively eased out his arms, not wanting to frighten "her". "I know how lonely you are, Michelle, and how wounded you feel. You'll never know that with me."
It will be such a challenge playing them, and they will feign displeasure on learning I have pursued them both. Until I explain.... Then neither of them will mind....
He exhaled a long breath, shaking his head as he did. He did not know what would give him the greatest delight: having Tina and Michelle share his bed, or the expressions of shock on everyone's faces. I...think...both. He was thrilled these idiots had decided to revive him. Frankly, he had been growing quite tired lately, which had led to the ill-timed events of the previous night (and by the way, he wondered where the hell Hando - his partner in crime -- had disappeared to. He thought he had heard rumors of him being with Syrena, but somehow that didn't seem logical...yet). For some time, Sid believed himself simply lonely, wanting the same companionship as he saw his brothers obtain. But now, he was uncertain this was actually the case any longer. Perhaps....
I am simply bored - bored beyond belief. I am trapped in this world for the most part, for few of these women trust me enough to allow me to venture into their real world. Oh true, I've taken several road trips, but only out of desperation. I grow as tired of this prison as I did my virtual surroundings in the movie. Both Michelle and Tina could provide me with exactly what I need...not only as sexual partners, but also as my link with their universe. If they allow me...I could reveal such worldly pleasures to them.
Sitting on the edge of his elegant queen-sized bed, he started to unbutton his shirt, but paused in the action. He recalled something - a scene from Heaven's Burning that excited women from what he had observed, and he could understand why. However, the scene would have been so much more erotic had it been me instead...
Sid eased back onto the mattress, resting his upper body against the numerous pillows at the headboard. Now he began to slowly remove the shirt, but not the normal way. The shirt was eased - still fastened - over his head until the soft fabric became tangled in his arms. He chuckled softly, bringing his arms forward, then raised himself onto his elbows so as to gaze longingly at the images he had conjured in his imagination. At the foot of his bed stood two luscious creatures, so different physically he could only sigh in delight. Both would offer so much in their own innocent ways.
"Are you prepared for your lessons, my pets?" he said softly. He managed to raise his right index finger, and crooked it, motioning that "they" should approach. So...this was how it would come about, he considered, and his imagination took full flight. "You have so much to learn ladies." Both neared him hesitantly, and he noticed they were both blushing as they positioned themselves near him. He chuckled out loud. Shy to the end, aren't you, and there is no longer any need. "You are both quite lovely, my pets. And see how I show you to an advantage so we enhance one another? Neither Biebe nor O'Brien knew how to properly do that. Now you're with someone who knows how priceless you are."
Sitting up even more, the shirt still wrapped about his wrists, Sid scooted forward and gently kissed the imagined Michelle on her mouth. When she did not pull away - and why would she - the kiss was intensified until he felt her literally trembling against him, her breath becoming halting. Sid pulled back, pleased he elicited such a reaction form her. "You've never been kissed by a real man, now have you, Chelle?" She shook her head, unable to speak, and he smiled at this. "No, all you've known is that slow, stupid Colin." This time she nodded, and Sid studied her closer, pleased with the metamorphosis he had initiated. The soft blue of the teddy emphasized her lovely curves, and he thought it quite sensual the way her medium brown hair tumbled about her throat. "You always did deserve better....
"As did you cherie," he said, addressing the imagined Tina, who sat on the bed, off to his left. Her full-figure was highlighted by the red corset, its' crimson color nearly the shade of her burning cheeks. "I still remember the day I learned you and Biebe were lovers. You had kept it such a sweet little secret - I suppose very few knew." He chuckled, watching her smile before he kissed her, his tongue thrusting deep. When they parted, he continued, "Pudgy, ludicrous John. I don't know which of them is the worst, my loves. But neither of you has to worry any longer. I promise...I'll protect you from those fools."
Sid relaxed once more with his back against the mattress, his head upon the pillows. His entwined arms extended above him, he grinned so broadly, he almost thought his face would crack. He had never been more pleased with himself. "Now...show how much you appreciate what I've saved you from.... Come my pets...Show how much you thank me."
"Sid," he heard them adoringly whisper, and Michelle and Tina lay on either side of him, their hands beginning to move along his strong figure. They started tentatively, as though uncertain of their own skills, and Sid moaned, his body rising slightly off the mattress. "Ladies...you won't break me I promise. You may do...as I taught you. We're all adults here."
The two women groaned, delighted they had been given permission to show their true feelings for him, and as Sid readjusted himself, he felt their mouths simultaneously trace patterns about his chest, eventually settling upon his nipples to suck and nip. Their inexperience was now replaced with skills neither knew existed within them, and they felt Sid's body writhe in ecstasy as they bit and tongued him. They repeated his name as if he was now a god to them. He stretched and tugged, still pretending his arms were trapped in the shirt, his lower body beginning to gyrate in anticipation as he felt himself grow harder.
"Ah...Ah...sweet Etienne," he sighed as she licked at his birthmark. The shirt was thrown aside so he could take both of them by the backs of their heads. "You may be keeper of my birthmark now...if you desire, cherie."
"Thank you, Sid," she whispered, immediately returning to what she had been doing.
"And Michelle, ma belle," he added, his brain retrieving the lyrics of the Beatles song once again, "you may be keeper of my hands now."
"Mmm...thank you, Sid," she eagerly replied, not wanting to let go of him.
He swallowed hard, catching his breath. "And the rest of me...you must fight amongst yourselves." The two giggled gleefully...and Sid's body began to rise and fall in a steady rhythm, grabbing the headboard to intensify what he was feeling. He groaned over and over, violently slamming himself against the bed, as he imagined his slacks being ripped from him, then his silk boxers.... Shutting his eyes and relaxing completely, Sid "felt" hands, teeth and nails lustfully tear into him, and the last he "heard" before he nearly lost consciousness was the passionate moans of two women giving themselves fully to his pleasure....
