Gillian and the Bigot

(Further tales of Mysti M.O.D.)

By Sam Ruskin

Max smiled as she stepped into the elevator that would take her to Gillian’s office. It had only been a few hours since they left the house for work but already she missed the sound of her lover’s sweet voice. Sheesh, was she kidding? She missed it the moment the blonde exited the car that morning. Bless the wonderful invention of the cell phone, the tall woman grinned in silence.

"Haven’t seen you here before. You new?" the man with the sandy hair asked.

"Brian, get a grip," the gum chewing redhead snapped. "She doesn’t work here at all. She’s here to see Gillian. They live together."

"Really? I didn’t know Gillian had taken a room mate."

The skinny redhead rolled her eyes but said nothing.

Max wondered if she had suddenly become invisible. Did no one have manners anymore? For crying out loud, couldn’t they see she was standing right next to them? Surely they must know she heard every word of the dimwitted conversation. About the time she decided to speak up and say something the elevator’s humming stopped and the doors opened onto her floor. Still, she couldn’t resist answering the cute executive’s earlier question.

"I haven’t seen you before either and NO, not nearly as new as you might think." The gorgeous brunette winked one blue eye at the clearly admiring young man and quickly turned, walking toward the door that would take her to paradise. Or, at least, an angel.

Her heavy harness boots made a distinctive sound and secretly Max liked the way it always seemed to announce her arrival to Gillian’s secretary.

Without so much as lifting her head from the monitor, Jo Ann spoke. "Hiya Max. She’s waiting for ya. Go on in."

"Now, there you go again, Jo Ann, making assumptions. I could have been almost anyone. Maybe even an angry author ticked off about a cover or something." The tall beauty couldn’t help but laugh at the image.

Jo Ann lifted her chestnut eyes and chuckled. "No wonder she loves you. You’re a real laugh a minute, you are. Bet you are lots of fun in the..."

"Hey!" Max leaned closer to the secretary. "Watch it, Red." The rumbling laugh took the edge off the verbal caution and both snickered as one sexy blonde peeked out of her office.

Gillian made a quick survey of the outer office before speaking. "Hiya gorgeous. You’re early. Just can’t stay away from me, can ya?"

Max closed the distance between them and leaned down to whisper in the tiny ear. "You, sexy lady, have no idea."

Then, out of pure orneriness, she drove the words home with a quick lick. The blue eyed goddess glowed with satisfaction when the artist shuddered and nearly fell into her strong arms.

"That," the petite blonde smacked her lover’s tight rear, "was not nice."

"Mmmm, but you are so wrong. That," Max returned the soft smack and followed it with a caressing squeeze, "was very nice. Very nice indeed."

Green eyes darted about the room and shot open in mock alarm. "You! The closet door may be slightly ajar but let’s not take it off its hinges, sweetheart."

"You are so right. Never know when we might need a quick moment of privacy."

"Um," Jo Ann hesitated to interrupt the cute conversation but heard footsteps rapidly approaching.

Max immediately stood to her full height and glided alongside Gillian, giving the alert secretary a wink of thanks. "Heard em. Thanks."

"Good Lord," muttered the illustrator. "Don’t turn into a column of ice, Max. It’s not as though I were...."

Just then three men in dark pin striped suits entered the room. Gillian looked at Jo Ann with the unspoken question clearly on her fair face. The secretary shrugged in reply, then turned to the gentleman.

"Excuse me? Did you have an appointment? Because Ms. Montgomery was just leaving for a luncheon engagement."

The short, stocky man with the graying hair laughed. It was one of those empty, insincere laughs that set your teeth on edge. "Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?" He began to undress Gillian with his cold eyes, and was none too discreet about it either.

Gillian reached out and took Max’s hand. Well, actually what she took was a clenched fist, and none too soon either.

"I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Talbot. What is more to the point, I don’t *want* to know."

Having regained control, Max gently stepped just enough in front of her beautiful partner to interrupt Talbot’s rude stare. It was a move that did not go unnoticed.

Now, a wiser man would have gotten the message and just shut his mouth. But then, no one had ever accused Mr. Thomas Talbot of being a wise man. Or even a smart man, for that matter. The two men with him began to shift weight from first one foot to the other, clearly longing to be someplace else. Anyplace else.

"Oh I don’t know, sweet thing, I’d bet you know exactly what I mean. Can’t say as I approve of your menu selection, though."

Uh oh. Jo Ann moved backward, inching in the direction of her desk. Max’s eyes narrowed to a thin slit of blue fire as the muscles in her jaw made themselves known. Gillian released the fist only long enough to get a firm grip on the upper arm. That was when it happened. One of the shifting sidekicks did the near impossible. He proved himself a bigger jackass than the one already speaking.

It was the sandy haired man from the elevator. Max made a mental note of the previously flirtatious young man’s face as he stepped closer to Talbot.

"C’mon Talbot. That kind of filthy inference is completely uncalled for. Just drop off the manuscript, set an appointment and let’s go. It really is none of our business who the young ladies are meeting for lunch."

Talbot laughed that hollow, irritating laugh again and Gillian had to hold on tightly to her tall lover’s arm.

"Jeffries, you are as blind as you are stupid. They aren’t MEETING anyone for lunch. They ARE lunch. What we have here, Jeffries, is a couple of dykes. Gorgeous dykes, to be sure; but dykes none the less."

Before Max or Gillian could do or say anything Jeffries decked the stocky executive with the big mouth. Jo Ann rushed to be certain the fallen jerk was still breathing. He was. Releasing her partner’s powerful arm, the blonde pushed the young fighter aside.

"Do you really think that was necessary, Tod?" Gillian all but bit him with the question.

"Hey! The old fart called you a dyke, for God’s sake. What was I supposed to do? Just stand here while he said you are an afront to God? A pervert? A freaking LESBIAN!?"

"Excuse me?" Came the quietly enraged question from beside the artist.

Straightening his tie, Tod Jeffries flashed his best, polished and capped, smile. "We didn’t get a chance to meet earlier. I’m an accountant here. Name is Jeffries. Tod Jeffries. And you are?"

Never missing a beat, Max silently prayed for Gillian’s forgiveness. "A freaking LESBIAN!"

"Oh boy." Gillian winced slightly, then stepped back to take her tall warrior’s hand and give it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"What? That’s not possible," Jeffries sputtered.

"What’s not possible about it, Tod?" Gillian asked as Talbot slowly stood and was helped out the door by the last of the group, who apparently had been stunned into total silence.

"Well," the executive at least had enough sense to be embarrassed, "she’s gorgeous!"

Smiling as she waggled her eyebrows, Gillian giggled. "Oh yeah. She sure is. And you’ve only seen her with her clothes ON." Thoroughly enjoying the bigot’s reaction, the sexy blonde leaned her full body length against Max and pulled her into a passionate kiss.

Max, for her part, was torn between allowing herself to enjoy the kiss, smacking tar out of dear Mr Jeffries or raising that infamous brow at her partner’s public display. She settled for one and three. When she felt Gillian’s tongue enter her mouth, she lost it and laughed out loud.

"Sorry babe, but what were you saying about that closet door?"

"Gillian Montgomery! Get away from that dyke! What would your father say?" Jeffries was dressed in zealous outrage.

Jo Ann took the large envelope from the pompous idiot’s hand where he'd retrieved it from the floor. "I’ll call Talbot later with an appointment. I think you best just go now, Tod."

Shoving her out of the way, the well built accountant reached for Gillian. Big mistake. Max put one large hand around his right shoulder, bodily turned him to face the secretary, and spoke in a low rumble: "apologize. NOW."

"Don’t touch me you bitch!"

"Oh, don’t worry. Touching you is far more distasteful to me than it is to you. Just think how many times I’ll have to scrub my hands now."

Gillian couldn’t help the snicker that escaped. Then she remembered what this jerk had said and her green emerald eyes turned to hot coals.

"Let him go, sweetheart." Max did as the blonde asked. "Tod. You asked me a question. What would my father think? My father, Tod, would be very happy because he loved me without question or condition. He would know I have found the other half of my soul, that the hole in my very being is no more. My father, Tod? My father would have put you in traction by now. He was a quiet, peaceful man and there was precious little in this world he could not abide. Do you know what the one thing that could make him snap was, Tod? A BIGOT! And before you start with the threats of exposure let me remind you that your threat to reveal my ‘secret’ only has power if I insist my ‘secret’ remain just that: A SECRET. Can you feel your knees, Bigot? I just chopped you off at them."

"Huh?" It was one syllable uttered by three people for three entirely different reasons.

"Jo Ann. Take a memo, post it immediately to all inboxes."

Max reached for her partner. Gillian side-stepped her. "Jo Ann? You ready?"

Looking up, the secretary gave a concerned nod. Gillian kissed Max’s cheek.

"OK. Jo Ann, this is what I want you to say:

Rubies are red, Charcoal is gray

Max had to hold her stomach, she was laughing so hard. Jo Ann was struggling to avoid typos and poor Tod was listening for the thunder he was certain was on its way.

"Tod before you go spouting off again I suggest you memorize the words of Abraham Lincoln. I think even you CHRISTIANS like him."

the end?

More with Max and Gillian as the muse dictates and, of course, only as long as you want to read about them.

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