=========================================== 
Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Orion 
A series by LeVar Bouyer 
Unnumbered Episode #201: The Yearbook
(this episode contains some sexual content)
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	It was a perfectly ordinary day in Crystal Tokyo.  There were no
youma or psychopathic senshi hanging about, and there wouldn't, at least not
today.  The two hundred or so sailor senshi stood their eternal vigil,
keeping watch over the city, but today their services would not be needed.
 
	In her office, Sailor America was reading a newspaper.  This wasn't
because of boredom or laziness, but because it was her job.  Her duty, in
addition to protecting the Queen, was to take care of the crown's dealings
with the press.
 
	Examples had been set all through history of monarchies that let the
press get out of hand.  There had been two main ways of dealing with this,
both employed by the British towards the end of the second millennium.  The
first was to snuff out any and all opposition and dissent.  This resulted
in, among other things, the War for American Independence back in the
1700s.
 
	The other method was to ignore all opposition and dissent, and
simply let things go to hell.  This, as applied during the final period
before the Silence in the 1980s and 1990s, resulted in the eventual
dissolution of the monarchy in 1999, which of course turned out to be a
major cause of the worldwide collapse the Silence provoked.
 
	Crystal Tokyo took a third path.  Protest was allowed as long as
certain boundaries were not crossed.  One of them, the one she was looking
for right now, was to make sure that no-one defamed the senshi or the
monarchy in "a disagreeable fashion."
 
	Sailor America's definition of "disagreeable fashion" differed
greatly from most of the senshi's, especially the inners.  Jupiter had in
fact made veiled threats to bring personal harm to America if she didn't
start being more strict about those sorts of things.
 
	For her part, coming as she did from a rather liberal North American
Confederation, she felt that pretty much anything went.  But some guidelines
had to be followed anyway, and that was what she was looking for.
 
	And she found it.  It had been hidden in the depths of the
classified section, in an obscure English dialect that should have made it
incomprehensible to prying eyes.  Then again, a PR secretary who wasn't a
linguist wouldn't be much good.
 
	"For sale," read the brown-haired senshi, "one mint-condition copy
of Sailor Nights, episode four.  Contact me at 34-575-3543.  GS."
 
	She sighed, and straightened her skirt.  "Hentai," she muttered
under her breath.  Sailor Nights was a fairly well-known and quite popular
underground pornographic parody of the Sailor Senshi.  It was also banned by
thirty countries, twenty-nine of which had done it out of fear of Japan.
 
	Needless to say, the thirtieth was Japan itself.  Her PR job
sometimes crossed over to the job of censorship, much to her chagrin.  She
had the authority to order the arrest of almost anyone on the mere suspicion
of sedition.
 
	She'd never exercised it. 
 
	She got up and went to the door.  "I'm going out for a bit," she
said to her secretary.  "Be right back."
 
*** 
 
	Jen Sakachi lay on Eileen's couch, enjoying something she rarely got
a chance to take advantage of.
 
	A weekend. 
 
	Actually, it wasn't as if it were an actual Saturday or Sunday.  The
fact of the matter was that she still had months of leave accumulated from
her adventures on Pleiades, and she saw no reason why she shouldn't use one
of them by just lounging around the house and getting some personal work
done.
 
	She scratched her jeans-clad leg reflectively.  The last few days
had been great for her.  They'd been in bed for nearly three days straight,
and it had felt like the first time every time.  Today was Eileen's first
day back at the office since Pleiades had come back to Earth, though, and
gave Jen a perspective on life she hadn't seen in years.
 
	Solitude and silence. 
 
	Neither had been very plentiful on Pleiades.  The dull roar of
people, engines, ventilation, and so on always had been in the background,
and so one got used to background noise.  As for solitude . . . the closest
she could get was in her cabin, and those times were few and far between. 
With over two hundred people crammed into that small ship, elbow room had
been a precious commodity.
 
	And in her time with Eileen she'd never been alone, and her world
had shrunk down substantially.  There was making love with Eileen, and
nothing else.
 
	So it was to be expected that she would have a bit of an empty
feeling in the pit of her stomach, not having Eileen's nice, warm body
beside her.  Or so she thought.
 
	She sighed yet again and looked around for something to do.  She'd
had fun plans at the beginning of the day involving the rest of her friends
from Pleiades.  That had come to a screeching halt, though.  Kim, Sammy, and
Vanessa all had evaluations to get through from the personnel office, and
wouldn't be free for anything for a couple of days.
 
	As for Usagi, she was wrapped up once again in the intricacies of
Palace life.  She was a princess again, and seemed to be loving it.  She,
along with the bridge trio, had agreed to a picnic two days hence at one of
Crystal Tokyo's more popular parks, but that did nothing to assuage the
loneliness she felt right now.
 
	"Dammit," she muttered as she stood.  There had to be *something* to
do around here, or she'd go mad.
 
	She inspected the bookcase.  Typical fare; the recent best-sellers,
a few history books (many of them hers, she realized), some romances, a
couple mysteries . . . and a cloth-bound yearbook.
 
	Her interest piqued, Jen pulled out the heavy red volume to look at
the title.
 
	"Annville High School Yearbook, 3028 edition."  As a purely academic
matter she inspected it.  She *had* been yearbook editor in her last year
of high school, after all.  Before, of course, that and everything else had
been superseded in importance by her acceptance into the School.
 
	She still felt fairly confident that she could figure out the
characteristics of a good yearbook, though, and idly thumbed through the
pages.  Pictures of vehicles that would not have been recognizable as school
busses to any twentieth century eyes, proms, homecomings, the typical school
activities.
 
	She came to the superlative section.  Most Likely to Succeed,
Quietest, Most School Spirited, all titles that meant nothing a mere two or
three years later.  The one who *had* succeeded the most, Eileen, wasn't in
any of them.
 
	She came to the back cover, where all of the signatures were.  
Apparently, Eileen's school followed a system similar to Jen's; a point of 
pride was made in getting as many signatures as possible, regardless of 
whether or not you actually knew them.  She looked for a bit, and looked 
some more, and then stopped when the tears became too much. 
 
	"Eileen," she whispered.  "I never knew." 
 
*** 
 
	Sailor America walked into her apartment and promptly ceased to be 
Sailor America.  She hated being in senshi form around the house, not that 
sometimes it didn't come in handy with Jen. 
 
	It was Jen that she noticed first.  Her cheeks were tear-stained, 
and her eyes red-rimmed. 
 
	"Jen!  What's wrong?"  Eileen dropped the bag she'd been carrying
which contained the ingredients for dinner, and rushed over to her lover's
side.
 
	"I saw your yearbook." 
 
	There was a pause. 
 
	"Oh," said Eileen, laughing, "that's nothing, really.  Just a high
school prank."
 
	"High school prank?" asked Jen bitterly.  She turned to the back 
cover and began reading.  "'Hope you rot, skank!' 'Eat shit and die, you 
queer!' 'The School don't take no pussy-licking dykes, bitch!'  And you 
call this a prank?" 
 
	The smile disappeared from Eileen's face.  "Well, they weren't the 
most mature-" 
 
	"Anton Jacobson: class president.  Anita Lindsay: Drum Major.  
Michelle Jaecks: captain of the volleyball team."  Jen looked up.  "The 
very cream of the crop, Eileen.  Your so-called friends.  And they did 
this to you?" 
 
	"Jen, you don't have to feel bad about it.  It's all in the past,
really."
 
	"No way, Eileen.  They insult you, they insult me.  And if they
think they can insult me and get away with it-"
 
	"Jen.  Calm down.  Please."  She went to the kitchen.  "I'll get you 
some milk." 
 
	"Milk?" asked Jen, as if Eileen had pulled up her blouse, whipped
out her breast, and offered it to her.  "You can think about milk at a time
like this?"
 
	Eileen looked at her strangely for a moment, then shook her head
clear and started pulling cups from the cabinet.  "I see you're going to
need something a bit stronger, then."
 
	"You know how I feel about alcohol," said Jen loudly from the living
room.
 
	"Yeah," shouted back Eileen.  "That's why I'm getting you some fresh
hot black coffee."
 
	Jen frowned.  "I don't drink coffee, not since high school." 
 
	"Well," said Eileen, bringing in a couple of mugs, "you're drinking
it now."
 
	Jen took a sip, frowned, and then swallowed it with a visible
effort.  "This is vile."
 
	"Yep.  Now, about the yearbook.  I haven't told you a lot about 
Annville, have I?" 
 
	"No, not really."  She forced down some more of the liquid.  "Come
to think of it, I've never seen your parents.  Do they call regularly?"
 
	"Nope.  I get a card at Christmas and birthdays, but that's not
important.  Jen, it's important that you know this about me.  I . . . I
haven't told it to many people.
 
	"I'm gay." 
 
	Jen blinked.  "Given the past week, that's not exactly a novelty." 
 
	"No, I mean that I've always been gay.  Look at you.  You were
undecided when you came to the school.  At the least, you felt that there
should be something more to guys than just the social pressures of going
after them, right?"
 
	"I suppose," said Jen slowly.  She hadn't given it much thought;
what she had with Eileen was so good that reason seemed to dull it somehow.
 
	"I know so.  Now, when you met me, all that went out the window. 
That was the turning point for you.
 
	"Me, it was something I was born with.  As soon as I knew about sex,
I always liked girls.  It just seemed like there was no other way for me to
be.  I never told anyone about it, not because I was afraid, but because I
figured that everyone felt that way.
 
	"Then came high school." Eileen uncrossed her legs, then crossed
them again, setting her mug down on the table.  "Suddenly, there was all
this pressure on me to date guys.  I was never interested, of course, even
though a lot of people thought I was pretty.
 
	"I don't know how it got out.  Maybe I let it slip to a friend or
something, I don't remember.  But in my sophomore year, I was suddenly the
freak.  I've told you how small Annville is, right?"
 
	"Yes, I think so.  It's only a few thousand people?" 
 
	"Yeah, and that's including the college.  Anyway, we're kind of
isolated up there, and it doesn't take long for word to get around.  Next
thing I know, I'm the resident punching bag.
 
	"Jen, it was unbelievable.  I honestly believe Sailor Pollux herself
would have gotten along better with them than I did.  They did everything
short of spit on me for the next two years, and some even went *that* far."
Jen's sharp intake of breath was enough to convince Eileen that her little
story was having an effect on her lover.
 
	"After all that, the pressure from trying to take the exam was a
welcome release.  I mean, forget all the satellite exams and preliminaries;
I could use the distraction."
 
	"So," said Jen, after taking a moment to digest all this, "you took
the exam to get out of a stifling rural community?"
 
	"No," corrected the other, "I took the exam because I was smart,
intelligent, and lucky.  You know how it works outside Japan: I had to take
nearly a dozen tests and win a lottery just to *get* to the Exam, let alone
pass it.  The deck's stacked against foreigners, Jen."
 
	That was completely true, Jen knew.  But it hurt to be reminded of
the fact that the powers that be were so xenophobic.
 
	"But I beat the odds, and the rest was history.  My family supported
my entrance into the School.  They'd seen how the community had treated me,
and we all agreed that a change of scenery was in order."
 
	"But they never come to visit," protested Jen.  "Surely they-" 
 
	"No.  The idea all along was to start over.  I haven't called my
parents since graduation, and I probably won't ever call them again."
 
	The calmness with which she said it frightened Jen.  To totally
sever ties to home like that . . . there had to be something Eileen wasn't
telling her.  Not to mention how neatly her lover had sidestepped the
question of the yearbook entries.  On the other hand, that would insinuate
that Eileen was hiding something from her.  That was in a nutshell
inconceivable.
 
	"Enough about me," said Eileen.  She stood abruptly, and took Jen's
empty coffee mug from the table.  "I've had all the miserable reminiscing
that I can handle for one day."
 
	"What?  You're just going to go off like everything's okay?  Well
Eileen, I'll have you know that things are not even approaching okay, not if
people can say things like that to you!  No-one in the world deserves that
kind of treatment!"
 
	"Really?" asked Eileen softly, pausing in the doorway to the
kitchen.  "No-one?" She put the mug in the sink and drew close to Jen.  "So
you're saying that every time someone hurts our feelings, we should go out
and exact retribution?"
 
	"Well, maybe not *every* time, but-" 
 
	"So, just the people we care about?" 
 
	"Um-" 
 
	"Especially senshi.  I mean, we do all the work, don't we?  Name the
last global crisis us senshi didn't solve.  If we're so good for the human
race, then anyone who slights us is against humanity, and therefore we have
to get rid of them, right?
 
	"Jen, that kind of reasoning is what I go up against every day at
the Palace.  There are so many people there who support the elimination of
any opposition whatsoever.  So what do I do?
 
	"I don't know.  I honestly don't.  I'm sworn to protect the Queen,
but I don't know if that should extend to making sure nobody includes her in
off-color jokes.  I'm madly in love with you, but I don't know if I should
go beating up anyone who insults you.  It's hard."
 
	Jen swallowed.  She knew that it had been hard when Eileen first
came to Japan, adjusting to a totally different language and mindset.  She
knew that the adjustment from the virtually unlimited free speech of North
America to the fairly straight-laced society of Japan had been slightly
difficult for her friend.
 
	She certainly hadn't known, however, that it had been so severe. 
 
	Eileen took a step back, and then went to the window.  Their
apartment was on the side of the Palace that faced the Pacific.  It was nice
in the evenings as the sky darkened, but was truly spectacular at sunrise.
 
	At the moment it was fairly mundane, as a haze began to build on the
horizon.  A hurricane was building far out to sea.  It wouldn't strike
Crystal Tokyo, however.  It had been virtually unaffected by hurricanes for
the past thousand years, for obvious reasons.
 
	Eileen looked out over the biggest ocean on Earth and sighed.  "I
can see that you've got a couple of things to think about."
 
	"I think *we've* got a couple things to think about.  Wanna take a
walk?"
 
	"Okay." 
 
	"Good.  There's plenty of daylight left, I'll pack a basket." 
 
*** 
 
	Crystal Tokyo was an urban planner's paradise.  Everything had its
place, as though it had been organically grown somehow.  If you walked along
its wide, tree-lined boulevards and thought to yourself that a nice green
plot of land would relieve the monotony, you would soon find just what you
were looking for.
 
	There was now more open space in Tokyo than there had been since
before industrialization hit the land of the rising sun.  Small parks
littered the cityscape.  They were often tiny plots, with a couple trees and
a few bushes, and perhaps a bench.  It was such a park that Jen and Eileen
found themselves in.
 
	Late lunch at the park was good.  But for Eileen, it was just the
beginning, as she began to give Jen one those back rubs that she did so
well.  She hadn't really learned it anywhere; it just seemed a natural
knack, and Jen had never had any complaints.
 
	Until now. 
 
	"Eileen, I really think we should go home.  It might rain, you
know."
 
	Eileen looked up.  There wasn't a single cloud in the sky, which was
hardly surprising.  She frowned.  "Jen, what's wrong?  Oh, don't tell me
it's that yearbook silliness.  I thought we'd discussed this already."
Eileen wrapped her hands around Jen's waist and smiled slightly.  "Come on,
let me take it off your mind . . . " She began to place little wet kisses
down her neck in her irresistible manner.
 
	Jen decided to relax a bit and let it take its course.  She still
wanted her.  It *had* been a full year, after all.  There were a lot of
pent-up feelings that a mere week of lovemaking couldn't erase.  Eileen's
hands began to play with the front lapels of her blouse.
 
	A twig snapped from behind the bushes.  Jen sat up, shrugged her
blouse back on, and looked about for insects or more frighteningly, small
woodlands creatures.  She hated them.  "Look, Eileen, can we *please* go
back home?" Eileen looked at her eyes and saw that she'd lost this round,
but she had to try again.
 
	"Oh, Jen, you aren't afraid that someone's watching us, are you?" 
 
	"Look, I'm sorry, but I just can't stop thinking about what you
said." Jen stuffed items back into the picnic basket with purpose.  "When we
get back home.  I promise."
 
	"Oh . . .  all right."  Eileen looked thoroughly disappointed as she
began to fold the blanket.
 
*** 
 
	It was a fairly quiet drive back to the Palace's apartment complex. 
Traffic was rather light, which was surprising.  Eileen glanced over at Jen
a few times during the trip, but her head was turned away towards the
Pacific Ocean.  Whatever she was thinking about, she wasn't ready to share
it with Eileen.  Not that Eileen didn't have a clue what it was, though.
 
	They remained silent until they got inside the elevator.  As soon as 
the door slid closed, Eileen took the opportunity of the brief privacy to 
make up for lost time.  She pressed Jen up against the mirrored wall as a 
finger stabbed the button.  There was a slight jerk, and a deep hum as the 
elevator began to ascend. 
 
	"Come on, Jen, let's say we just get a little warmed up?" 
 
	Jen looked uneasy, and she glanced at the elevator counter. 
Thirty-four floors to go.  "Oh, I guess so." Memories of recent events were
pushed aside as they kissed.  Eileen pushed her further up on to the wall,
making Jen stand on her tiptoes.  This was a bit awkward for her, being
shorter than her redheaded friend, but she didn't mind.  She liked the
challenge.
 
	They barely noticed that the elevator came to a stop premature of
their destination, and a passenger had stepped into the car, since Eileen
was rather involved with playing with the clasps of Jen's bra.  "Ahem."
 
	Eileen froze in mid kiss, and her blood nearly turned to ice. 'Oh, 
god, I hope that isn't who I think that is . . .'   She glanced at the 
mirror wall in front of her.  There, looking right back at her was a 
raven-haired woman clad in red-white-purple sailor fuku and a frown that 
would have unnerved granite. 
 
	The door slid closed again.  "My, my, aren't we a cute pair," she
began as she pressed the button for the twenty-third floor.  The sarcasm in
her voice dripped down to fall on the carpeted floor.  There was a slight
jerk as the elevator began to move again.  "May I remind you two lovebirds
that this is a public area, and there is also the fact of keeping your
images untarnished.  You are *senshi*, after all." The word was said as if
she just slapped them in the face with it.  Which she did quite well,
actually.
 
	Faces red as beets, Jen and Eileen stood side by side as the car
rose towards the twenty-third floor.  The silence in the cramped space could
shatter eardrums.  After an eternity that was stuffed into the space of
thirty seconds, the chime sounded and the door slid open, revealing the
plush hallway of floor twenty-three of the Palace.  Sailor Mars stepped out
with not so much as a 'good day'.
 
	The elevator door slid closed again. 
 
*** 
 
	The apartment door opened.  Jen Sakachi strode in with Eileen not
far behind.  "Finally," she muttered as she slammed the door shut behind her
and punched a couple buttons.  Security at the Palace was amazingly tight,
but it didn't pay to take chances and she wanted no interruptions.  "Now
can we get down to business?" She pulled Jen close to her.
 
	Jen pushed her away with barely detectable reluctance.  "What are
you talking about?  We just got caught red-handed by one of the planet
senshi, for crying out loud!  And you expect us to just *do* it right after
that?"
 
	"God, Jen, why are you concerned about what that old buzzard
thinks anyway?  Now what I had in mind-"
 
	"Look, Eileen, stop it.  I'm just-"  She pressed a hand to her
forehead and turned away.  "I'm just confused about stuff now.  It's like my
head's a hurricane or something, I just can't figure stuff out anymore."
 
	"Jen, you're being really silly about all this!  They don't matter,
okay?  All that matters right now, is us.  Do you-"
 
	"Eileen, I'm going to go for a walk, okay?  Alone."  She grabbed her
coat, which she had tossed onto a couch, and headed out the door.
 
	She was in the elevator by the time Eileen took her yearbook and 
flung it across the room.   
 
	It hit a potted plant, which smashed into little pieces. 
 
*** 
 
	The Palace was a big place.  It comprised ninety-eight stories from
the ground up, and twelve sub-basements.  The ground floor had a footprint,
so to speak, of several city blocks.  Obviously, the working population of
Serenity's abode was quite large.  No specific figures were released, but
usually the daytime population was a bit less than three thousand people.
 
	With all those people, it was only natural that people should get
tired of being inside and want to be outside.  Thus, on almost every floor
there were open air lounges, patios really, that looked out on the Pacific,
Crystal Tokyo, or both.
 
	Jen was at one of these lounges on the seventy-fifth floor.  It was
as high as you could get without intruding on Her Majesty's private
quarters.  Above were the offices for the really high up, along with food
service floors, housekeeping, et cetera.  In theory, everything above the
seventy-fifth floor was self-sustaining.  Interestingly, Sailor America had
her office all the way on the eighty-first floor.
 
	It was growing late, and most of the people who worked at the Palace
were on their way home.  If she'd cared to go to the other side of the
building, she could see the lines of cars and busses as they streamed away
from the Palace.
 
	She didn't care to see them, though.  She was quite happy to sit and
watch the whitecaps on the Pacific, let the brisk sea breeze blow her hair
in a billow behind her, and to just think about things.
 
	It simply didn't make sense to her.  You didn't endure abuse like
that and come out smiling, neither physical nor mental nor sexual nor
verbal.  It simply didn't happen.  She had little experience in it herself,
though.  She went through a brief daydream of her experiences on Pleiades,
then snapped out of it.
 
	That still happened sometimes.  She'd be reading, or eating, or
watching the news, and suddenly she'd remember a particular day, or a
particular battle.  It wasn't as bad as the first couple of days back, when
she'd thought that Eileen was the only one keeping her sane.
 
	Eileen. 
 
	It always came back to her.  Why was she just shrugging the yearbook
off like a raindrop off the skin of a lemon?  Something clearly did not
compute.  More than anything else, it was what kept her away from Eileen. 
She couldn't be with her, not if she carried on this charade.
 
	She didn't know how long she'd sat there looking until a firm hand
clasped her shoulder.  She snapped around to see Eileen standing there, but
not looking at her.  Her eyes looked out to sea.
 
	"Pretty." 
 
	Jen turned around slowly and looked at the water.  At that moment,
the setting sun peeped out from behind the clouds, casting an orange streak
upon the ocean.  "Yes, it is," said Jen.
 
	"I wasn't talking about the ocean, Jennifer." 
 
	That made Jen turn around again.  It wasn't all that often that 
Eileen called her by her full name. 
 
	"Jennifer . . . I . . . God, how do I say this?  Look, if I've been
coming on too strong lately, I . . . aw shit." She balled up her fists and
went over to another part of the patio.  She put her hands up on the ledge
and looked over the precipice.  "Jennifer, I've been . . . do y'know how
hard this is?"
 
	Jen stood from the bench she'd been sitting on and went over to be
by Eileen's side, straightening her hair as she went.  "It's okay, Eileen. 
Tell me."
 
	"No, I can't."  She stood up and crossed over to where Jen had been
before.  Jen followed, and Eileen retreated to her previous position.  'This
is getting ridiculous,' thought Jen.  She followed again, and then grabbed
Eileen as she was about to move back.
 
	"Can't tell me what, Eileen?" 
 
	"I can't tell you . . . ."  At that instant, she looked into Jen's
eyes and saw the expression there.  With that, a barrier seemed to collapse
within her, and it all came out.  "I can't tell you how much those notes
hurt me.  My God, it's like literary rape." Now that she was finally saying
it, it now came out in a rush, and she couldn't seem to stop herself.  "It's
like raping me, kicking me into the dirt, just because I was so damned
different from them!  Then I try to better myself, try to improve myself and
everyone else, and they treated me like some kind of whore, and then . . .
then . . . ."
 
	She said nothing more comprehensible and simply cried, slowly rocked
by Jen in a tight embrace.
 
	"It's okay, Eileen, it is.  Really."  She went on like this,
whispering sweet nothings that meant everything in the world, until finally
the brunette felt strong enough to stand up straight.  Jen's eyes sparkled
as she spoke.  "Eileen A Pearcy, you are the most beautiful, most lovable,
most important person in the world to me, and nothing that anyone could ever
write will change that.  Understand?  You've shown them who's the better
person.  Have they become senshi?  Have they gained virtual immortality? 
Have they got the greatest kind of love in the world?
 
	"They don't, Eileen, and you do.  That has more impact than a
million yearbooks, than a million insults.  Because you've got me, and I've
got you."
 
	A sort of light seemed to go out behind Jen's blue eyes, replaced by
another kind; the outdoor lights had gone on, and the formerly dark patio
was now illuminated against the Crystal Tokyo night.  "Come on, it's getting
late."
 
*** 
 
	Eileen opened the refrigerator door for the nth time.  She knew she
would see the same thing every time, but it didn't matter.
 
	She'd thought she was doing herself a favor by ignoring what she'd
been feeling.  She'd thought it would help her heal if she just acted more
bubbly and sexier.  It had done just the opposite, though.
 
	But it was better now, she knew.  Lord knew she and Jen had 
problems, but they'd get through them, or die trying. 
 
	"Lover?" came the call from the bedroom.  "Could you help me move
something?"
 
	Eileen snickered.  The redhead had twenty centimeters and quite a
few kilos on her, and yet needed Eileen's help to move some furniture?  But
what the heck; it was late, and she didn't feel like looking through the
cabinets again.
 
	She went to the bedroom and was quite surprised by what she saw. 
Lit by the light of a dozen candles, Jen lay dressed in a pink sweater and
green skirt that came just below her knees.  In the semi-darkness, Jen
turned to face Eileen.  "I need some moving."
 
	Eileen moved forward shakily, not sure if this was true. 
"Jennifer?" asked Eileen, a bit higher than she'd meant to say, "are you
sure this is what you want?"
 
	"It's only fair," she replied in a voice that could not rightfully
be described as husky.  "I've kept you waiting long enough."
 
	"But . . . everything I've said . . . " 
 
	"Yep." 
 
	Eileen lay on the bed next to Jen, and eyed the sweater cautiously,
unsure if it was real.  She saw that it was the sweater she'd bought Jen the
day she'd found out Pleiades was on her way home.  It was more of a
cardigan; there were several bone-white buttons on it.
 
	With infinite care, she undid each of the fasteners, making sure
that not a thread was pulled too strongly.  After what seemed like an
eternity, she completed the task, revealing the white cotton bra that Jen
preferred.  She was about to undo the clasp when Jen murmured something.
 
	"Not yet," she repeated.  "A bit later.  Right now," she said,
rising, "it's your turn."
 
	Eileen stayed perfectly still as Jen raised the sweatshirt over her
head and placed it nearly on the floor.  She then began to work on Eileen's
slacks, undoing the button and zipper, and sliding down the garment.  Eileen
then did the same with Jen's skirt.
 
	They then lay like that awhile, taking in each other's bodies,
neither saying a word.  Looking at Eileen's form, Jen thought that this
would be a perfectly acceptable heaven if she could only look at her lover
forever.  She knew that Eileen felt the same way.
 
	Then they proceeded on, with their mutual permission. 
Simultaneously, in a maneuver better seen than described, they undid the
clasps on each other's brassieres, and let them drop to the floor.  Eileen
looked at Jen's chest with a hint of envy; she knew that the redhead was
forever endowed with a larger chest than herself, but she was used to it. 
She quite honestly didn't give a damn about size, but always thought that
Jen would be happier if Eileen's breasts were just a bit bigger.
 
	On impulse, they kissed.  It was by no means a short, abbreviated
kiss, and it took quite awhile before either of them were able to let go.
 
	Eileen reached a hand down to Jen's legs, and let it slowly,
excruciatingly creep upwards, caressing her toes, her ankle, her calf, her
knee, her thigh.  Finally, after what to Jen seemed millennia, a sensation
enhanced by the slow, steady, almost lethargic look she was getting from
Eileen, the brunette's fingers finally reached the junction of her legs. 
Eileen just let the digits rest there, not moving, simply feeling the warmth
of her body through the white cotton panties.
 
	Then, with a speed and fervor that took them both by surprise, she
reached up and, with a single tug, pulled the garment down from her waist to
her ankles and then they were gone, shoved into Eileen's pocketspace.  Jen
looked at Eileen, shocked.
 
	"Didn't want to make a bigger mess," was all Eileen would say. 
Then she didn't say anything for awhile, as she spent some time licking up
Jen's long, long legs.  She took special care to reach every part of her
leg, and by the time she'd finished, Jen felt that she could die a happy
woman.
 
	The evening wasn't quite complete, though.  After minutes (hours? 
years?), Eileen reached the spot, and the next thirty minutes were spent for
Jen writhing, arching, bucking, and having the time of her life.  Eileen was
merciless, bringing her lover to higher-than-imagined heights of pleasure,
and then somehow carrying her even higher.  She continued on, knowing that
her actions couldn't come close to expressing how much she loved her, but
hoping that somehow, Jen could get some idea of what she felt.
 
	From the gurgles coming from the redhead's throat, it would appear
that she was doing quite a good job at it.
 
	Finally, Eileen relented and drew back, smiling at her handiwork. 
She gave Jen a couple moments to catch her breath.
 
	"That," said Jen at length, panting, "was absolutely amazing." 
 
	"I try my best," said Eileen, a broad smile crossing her face. 
 
	"Yes, but now," and a mischievous twinkle came into Jen's eyes,
accented by the candlelight, "it's your turn." She rose from her prone
position, and gently forced her lover down on the bed.
 
	Eileen simply put her head back, closed her eyes, and waited for the
fun to begin.  Jen used a decidedly different technique from Eileen; where
Eileen was straightforward and dominating, Jen was more timid, more gentle,
showed the care that Eileen did, but in a different way.  But she had to
admit that timidity had its advantages.  Eileen could drive her lover up the
wall in half an hour.
 
	Jen usually took half a minute. 
 
	The cries echoed off the walls. 
 
*** 
 
	Jen slowly opened her eyes.  The candles had all burned out, and a
thin mist of smoke was still being worked on by the air conditioning system. 
She looked at the clock on the wall.  04:23.
 
	She started to swing out of bed, then thought better of it as many
of her major limbs were entangled with Eileen's.  She flopped her head back
and looked at the ceiling, pondering matters.
 
	Last night, as always, had been great.  But would it still be the 
same in the morning? 
 
	"Eileen?" 
 
	"Hm?" 
 
	"It's time to get up." 
 
	"Huh?" 
 
	"4:23 . . . I mean 4:24.  You've got work to do, my love." 
 
	"Oh, yeah." 
 
	Neither moved. 
 
	"Eileen, I appreciate the sentiment, but you've got a job to get to,
remember?"
 
	"Yeah, just a moment."  With incredible reluctance they separated,
and Eileen pulled aside the covers to rise.  "You wanna take a shower with
me?"
 
	"No," said Jen, yawning, "you go on ahead.  If I go in there with
you, we won't get out for ages."
 
	"Point taken," she said, smiling.  She grabbed a towel from a drawer
and made her way to the door.

	At the door: "Eileen?" 
 
	"Yes?" 
 
	"I love you, too." 
 
	The smile was all the answer Jen needed. 
 
*** 
 
	That morning, at 11:32, Sailor America took a quick break.  She'd
left some business unfinished, and she hated to leave a job undone.
 
	She found him in an out of the way coffee shop, in one of CT's less-
popular districts.  He looked fairly nervous, and with good reason; what he
was there for was illegal in thirty countries.  Seeing him, she squared her
shoulders and detransformed.  Then, she pulled one of the more interesting
stunts she'd figured out: pulling an entire outfit from her pocketspace and
putting it on perfectly.  Now in black shirt and jeans, with sunglasses and
wide-brimmed hat, she strode calmly to the man.
 
	"Mr. Naqvi, I presume?" 
 
	"Yes." 
 
	"You're awaiting a GS?" 
 
	"Yes."  He looked around furtively.  "Can we get this overwith?  I
mean, if any of the senshi find out-"
 
	"They won't find out," said Eileen smoothly.  "Now, we've got a
couple formalities.  Did you see the game last night?"
 
	"What?  Dammit, I don't have time for this, and . . . ."  He looked
at her face, and tried to peer behind the dark glasses.  Of course, he
failed.  "Fine.  Yes, I saw the game.  But that red card was unbelievable."
 
	"Really?  I rather thought the referee made the correct decision." 
 
	"The referee was bought off." 
 
	"Good."  The countersigns exchanged, Eileen got down to business. 
"Now, I have the merchandise.  Do you have the money?"
 
	Naqvi nodded, and pulled out a handlink.  Placing it on the table,
he slid it over to the mysterious person.  "Three hundred thousand yen,
ready to be transferred to your account as soon as you press the button. 
Now show it to me."
 
	"Gladly."  She produced a tiny chip, about ten centimeters in
length, a centimeter in width, and a couple millimeters in thickness. 
"Sailor Nights, just as you ordered."
 
	For the first time since their meeting, he smiled.  "Great."  He
took the chip.  "You can have the money."
 
	"Thank you, Mr. Naqvi.  It's been a pleasure doing business with
you." She stood.  "There's one other thing I think I should tell you,
though."
 
	"What?" 
 
	"America Star Power, Make-Up!" 
 
	The transformation died down. 
 
	Naqvi seemed to crumble within himself a bit.  "Damn." 
 
	"Yes," said America mildly.  "We picked up the real GS yesterday. 
But you, sir, were number one on his customer list." She produced her own
handlink.  "Yes, this is America.  I have him in custody and I'm on my way
in."
 
	She produced a pair of handcuffs from her pocketspace and with
little preamble slapped them on the man.  Though she was a senshi, and
therefore exempt, she read him his rights anyway.
 
	They then proceeded to the car that awaited them.  He would soon be
on his way to Crystal Tokyo's central holding facility.
 
	"You know, sooner or later the message will get out, Mr. Naqvi,"
said America, slamming the driver's door and starting the engine.
 
	"Hentai doesn't pay."