PART I: IMAGINE BEETHOVEN'S ''PASTORAL''...

Ah, Spring... when a young warrior's heart turns to love...

The land was alive and awake and bursting with the promise of Spring. Lush grasses undulated gently like a land-locked sea of gold and green, while wildflowers burst in spectacular displays of crimson poppies, blue flags, buttercups and a thousand other jewel-like colors and forms.

Trees sported leafy tresses of jade and emerald, silver and bronze, their trembling boughs caressed by a cool southern zephyr. Bushes laden with sweet, juicy berries beckoned birds and animals to feast on Demeter's bounty.

Above, Helios' fiery steeds drew his golden chariot across the peacock blue vault of heaven, hampered only by a few cotton-fluff clouds that sported happily in the firmament.

A lark, hidden from view, warbled liquid melody; squirrels scolded in the trees; and even the lowly snail was tempted to thrust his horned head from his shell and admit that all was right with the world..

While in the nearby brush, two deer were screwing like maniacs.

''Ooh! Xena! Didja see those deer? Boy, talk about a stag party...''

From her lofty perch on the back of her warhorse Argo, Xena smiled indulgently down at Gabrielle's strawberry-blonde head and suppressed a sigh. Her ears were still ringing from the other night at the Goatboy's Amphora in Erosia-by-the-Sea and she'd been hoping for at least a day or two to recover her hearing.

As Gabrielle continued chattering, Xena was lost in thought. Having finally declared their love for one another - due to, and despite, the machinations of certain gods - the two women were on their way to Amazon country, where they would seal their vows together and become a bonded pair according to the warrior women's ritual.

As Queen of the Amazons, a title Gabrielle held by rite-of-caste if not by inclination, the bard had felt she owed it to her Amazon friends to hold the ceremony there, rather in her home village of Potiedia.

Xena had felt an enormous sense of relief at Gabrielle's decision. Her father's an okay guy, the warrior thought, but only in small doses! And that sister... Xena grimaced, remembering Lila. She's got more nerve than a Phoenician cargo handler!

Engrossed in these thoughts, as well as some lustful musings as she watched Gabrielle's shapely derriere from her vantage point, Xena was nearly thrown from the saddle when Argo suddenly stumbled.

Immediately, she called a halt. Swinging down from the saddle, she picked up Argo's forehoof and sighed. The warhorse had thrown a shoe.

Well, Xena thought, this shouldn't delay us long. If I can find the shoe...

The two women looked for the missing shoe for several candlemarks, Gabrielle growing increasingly impatient, moody, and generally pissy... while Xena grew increasingly grimmer... and a whopper of an argument hovered in the wings.

''Look, Gabrielle,'' the dark-haired warrior said with exaggerated patience, ''it's not like I deliberately threw the Zeus-damned shoe away! Okay, okay, I know you want to get to the Amazon forest, I know you want to get married - I understand all that! But for the love of Artemis - give me a frimpin' break, already!''

Gabrielle's sea-green eyes narrowed dangerously. ''What do you mean, I want to get married? Don't you want to get married too?''

Xena sighed and ran a hand through her midnight-black hair. As much as she loved her bard, there were times when she could wring her pretty little neck! ''Gabrielle, I really don't want to have this discussion right now. Just help me find that shoe before it gets too dark to see.''

Gabrielle's lips tightened. Then her eyes filled with tears and her bottom lip trembled. She threw her staff down to the ground and wailed, ''You don't love me anymore!''

Xena's self control warred with her desire to grab the bard and beat the livin' daylights out of her. Fortunately for Gabrielle, self control won. ''Of course I love you, bardie-poo,'' the warrior said after a nervous glance around to make sure there weren't any witnesses, ''and I do want to get married in the worst way...''

Gabrielle interrupted. ''Oh, so now marrying me is the worst. Fine. Just fine. You go right ahead, MissStoic-Warrior -With-The-Round-Killing-Thingy. Just go and leave me here all by myself. It's okay, really. I don't want to be a burden or anything.''

Xena wondered if it was that-time-of-the-moon and heartily wished for a gallon of the Roman's life saving, mood-altering, feel-good hellbrew - known in the idiom as Happy Juice - to pour into the petulant bard. (You know - the stuff whomped up by those ancient Latin geniuses: Pamprinus and Midolian.)

''Look, Gabrielle. I love you. Gods! We've been through that already. I don't know what's gotten into you...''

Again, the bard interrupted. ''Oh. So the almighty Warrior Princess finally admits she doesn't know it all. Well, well, well. Should I inform the Athenian Times? D'you think we could get an exclusive?'' Gabrielle's voice fairly dripped with sarcasm.

The exasperated warrior finally decided to give up on being reasonable. At times like this, Xena thought, a woman's gotta throw caution to the winds, take the bit between her teeth and pray there are no eyewitnesses... at least, none with vengeful relatives.

Xena got down on both knees in the middle of the dusty road and threw her arms wide. ''Ah, Gabrielle!,'' she declared theatrically, ''Your beauty has no peer, no equal! I die for want of you!'' Quickly getting up, Xena ran into a nearby meadow and picked a bouquet of wildflowers, sneezing twice. Her scalp was itching, too. ''Accept these small tokens of my undying love, sweet bard.''

Thrusting the flowers into a gaping Gabrielle's hands, Xena continued, ''Love whose month is ever May,'' the warrior quoted, ''Spied a blossom passing fair, playing in the wanton air; Through the velvet leaves, the wind, all unseen, 'gan passage find; That the lover, sick to death, wished herself the heaven's breath.''

As a shy smile crept across Gabrielle's beautiful face, Xena breathed an inward thanks to her good friend, the amazon bard Wyllam Spear-Shaker.

Gabrielle thrust her face into the bouquet and sniffed deeply. ''Tell me more,'' she commanded through the trembling flowers. This was a side of Xena she had never seen before and the amazon bard thoroughly intended to enjoy every minute of it.

Xena thought furiously. How did that go... Oh, yes. ''Thou, for whom e'en Jove would swear Juno but an Ethiop were; And deny himself for Jove, turning mortal for thy love.'' The warrior considered another moment, and added, ''I love thee, how I love thee; with my final breath I would but confirm that thou art all my life; my muse, my wife; my art, my poor mis-beating heart.''

The bard felt as if she were melting into a big puddle of warm goo. ''Ooooh, Xena,'' she groaned, ''tell me more.'' Mmmmm, Gabrielle thought, I'm certainly feeling less pissy now.

The warrior was on a roll. Beginning to like this bardic business despite herself, Xena knelt again in the road at Gabrielle's feet. Never thought I'd be good at this caco, she thought. Aloud, she said, clasping her hands together, ''O! a kiss, long as my exile, sweet as my revenge! Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss I carried from thee, dear, and my true lip hath virgin'd it e'er since.''

Gabrielle's knees felt like those weird, worm-like noodles wealthy Roman matrons served with highly spiced sauces. With a squeal, she threw herself into Xena's waiting arms and kissed her thoroughly.

Oh, my, Xena thought, her lips locked to the sweet bard's, I should try this poetry stuff more often. And the warrior made a mental note to get an unabridged scroll of the Spear-Shaker's verse.

The two women kissed and made up. By the time they finished, accompanied by fierce whispers of ''Oh, bardie-poo!'' and ''Xena, tell me the thing about the flowers again!'', the sun was beginning to sink behind the mountains.

A reluctant Xena stood up, helping Gabrielle to her feet. ''Is the wedding still on?,'' the warrior asked with a foolish grin. Her dark hair was disheveled and she had the beginnings of a magnificent hickey on her neck... but what the Hades, she thought, I'm gonna get me some bard tonight!

Gabrielle quirked a red-gold brow. ''Only if you promise you'll still quote poetry to me after we're married.'' She quickly stuffed the somewhat tattered bouquet into Argo's saddlebags.

Xena nodded, making another mental note not to forget those Zeus-damned scrolls. ''Fine by me, Gabrielle. If I'd known what poetry did to you before, I'd have quoted it every night.'' Okay, Xena thought, so it's a lie, but it's for a good cause. Namely, my continued sex life, not to mention my sanity.

Gabrielle looked up at Xena, sea-green eyes full of desire. ''Xena! When you call me 'bardie-poo,' it really makes me...'' She whispered something in the other woman's ear.

Xena's pale blue eyes took on a speculative gleam and she pursed her lips. Interesting, she mused, mentally wondering where the relatively innocent bard had picked up such language. Desire made the warrior's ice blue eyes darken.

However, before the two women could race to the bushes for a world-shaking bout of what Gabrielle referred to as the ''Amphipolous Hootchie-Kootchie,'' they were interrupted by a voice that shouted at them from uproad.

''Helloooo, there, young ladies!,'' the voice boomed, ''Having trouble?''

In unison, Gabrielle and Xena turned, the warrior's hand darting over her muscular shoulder to grasp the hilt of her sword.

Coming towards them, perched on top of a rickety wagon drawn by a sorry-looking mule, was the most singular individual either of them had ever seen... and he wasn't traveling alone.
 

PART II: GREECE... THE FINAL FRONTIER

The wagon rolled to a halt, a plume of dust rising in its wake.

Xena and Gabrielle coughed and waved their hands in front of their faces. When the dust settled, they found themselves face to face with... a troop of itinerant actors.

The individual driving the wagon proved to be a lean, aesthetic looking man, dressed in a flowing tunic and leather trousers. Leaping from the wagon, the man swept both women a courtly bow... and nearly fell on his sharply pointed nose.

Ignoring Gabrielle's hastily smothered giggle, the man drew himself up with an air of injured dignity and proclaimed in round tones, ''Greetings, fair maidens. I am Hephaestus - not the god of the forge, you understand,'' he added in a hasty whisper, then continued declaiming, ''lead comic actor of this sterling theatrical company, currently trekking across this fair land. But please, call me Festus,'' he concluded with a slight smile,then stood there silently. Festus was a man of few words; that speech had taken him months to memorize.

Festus' dark hair was sculpted in an unbecoming style; it looked as if his mother had plopped a bowl on top of his head and trimmed the excess away with a pair of dull shears. Peeping through the strands of hair were his ears; they were extraordinarily large and as pointed as his nose.

Behind him, another voice harrumphed. ''And I am Tiberius,'' said the Roman who pushed Festus aside. ''I captain this troop, no matter what this cold-blooded Vulcan-namesake might say to the contrary.''

Tiberius was tall and muscular; even his slightly paunchy stomach looked solid. His hair was sandy blonde and trimmed in a centurion's short, spiky style; his hazel eyes held a commanding glare and were outlined heavily in black stibium.

Tiberius declaimed with a martial air, sucking in his stomach with a whoop, ''We are exploring strange new lands; seeking out new audiences and new material; and boldly going where no acting company has gone before!''

Festus scuffed one toe in the dirt. He'd heard it all before.

Tiberius' hazel glance softened immediately when the Roman took in Xena and Gabrielle's figures. ''Ah, ladies,'' he purred, eyes sparkling with interest, ''Is there some difficulty? Can we... help you in any way?''

Festus snorted softly and turned his back, fussing with the mule's reins. Tiberius shot Festus' back a glare, mumbling under his breath, ''Quit crampin' my style, ya undersexed scarecrow!,'' then turned back to the waiting women. ''May we know your names?,'' Tiberius asked with an air of exaggerated politeness.

''I'm Xena.'' The warrior jerked a thumb at the amazon bard and continued, ''That's Gabrielle. My horse threw a shoe and I...''

Xena was interrupted by yet another voice, this one cheerful and deep, yet feminine. ''Well, now, a horse w'out a shoe, eh? Sounds like a job for yer friendly neighborhood blacksmith, don't ye know.''

Tiberius sighed. ''That is Ohara. She is the company's blacksmith, propmaster, carpenter, lute player, costume designer, and all around dogsbody.'' The Roman made a slight moue of distaste.

An incredibly tall, muscular Nubian woman, whose frizzy black locks were twisted into snake-like braids, shouldered the pouting Tiberius aside. ''Pleased ta meetcha,'' she said with a huge grin, extending a plate-sized hand. ''Ohara's the name, and I am not,'' she continued with a grimace to Tiberius, ''a dogsbody, whatever yon primped-up wineswiller might be tellin' ya udder-wise.''

Gabrielle stared in open-mouthed wonder. She had seen a few plays presented at the Academy but they were amateur works. The bard had never attended a professional play, and to meet actors, even itinerant ones, was the dream of a lifetime.

Xena, on the other hand, was somewhat less than thrilled. Great, the warrior thought, a bunch of actors traveling on the same road. Gabrielle won't shut up for days! Zeus, give me strength.

Grasping Ohara's meaty forearm in the standard warrior's greeting, Xena asked, ''I don't suppose you have the wherewithal to replace a lost horseshoe?''

Ohara threw back her head and laughed. ''O' course, o' course,'' she said, ''But it'll have to wait, ya see, as we're makin' camp fer tha night. In the mornin' I'll be seein' ta yer wee horsie.''

Xena grimaced but resigned herself to the wait.

In the meantime, two more members of the troop had come up to the front, patiently waiting to be introduced.

Tiberius waved a hand. ''That is Soo Liu, our playwright and songwriter. He also does duty as fencing master, and plays minor roles as required. His navigation skills, are, alas, somewhat lacking. It is due to his inferior map-reading that we find ourselves in this bucolic back-of-beyond.'' The Roman's hazel eyes sparkled with good humor; it was obvious to Gabrielle that Tiberius was teasing the multi-talented scholar.

Soo Liu made a profound bow. From distant Chin, he was lean but hard muscled, and wore an open-chested silk robe embroidered with dragons. ''I am most pleased to make your acquaintance,'' he said in flawless Greek, almond-shaped eyes glittering with swashbuckling fever. ''I can only hope to be inspired by such beauty as yours.''

Inwardly, Soo Liu was hoping to finally make it with a woman. Five years was a long time to play second-chopstick to the ever-grasping Tiberius. The Oriental's eyes narrowed. The Athenian Actor's Guild was gonna hear about this!

Tiberius snorted again. Pointing to the other fellow, he said, ''And that is Davius Jonas, a Roman citizen like myself. The young man takes on the female roles, both dramatic and comic... but he's terribly shy,'' Tiberius finished out of the corner of his mouth.

Xena merely nodded; Gabrielle said brightly, ''Hi, Davius.''

The fairly handsome young man hung his head and mumbled.

When Gabrielle opened her mouth to ask Davius to repeat his reply, Tiberius interrupted softly, ''No use, young lady. No use at all. The only time the lad speaks up is when he's on stage.''

''Now,'' Tiberius said, sucking in his stomach again and squaring his shoulders, ''If you ladies would care to accompany us, we will be making camp at once. As the lead actor, I do require my beauty sleep,'' he added in an aside.

Striking a ridiculously heroic pose, the actor declaimed, ''Noble companions - We ride!''

The rest of the troop stood and stared. ''Ride what?,'' Ohara asked in mock confusion.

Tiberius muttered peevishly, ''It was a metaphor. You do understand metaphors, don't you?''

It was Ohara's turn to snort. ''Not when you use 'em, oh fearless leader.''

Xena and Gabrielle exchanged a look. It was obviously going to be a long night.
 

PART III: CAMPFIRE MEMORIES

Xena and Gabrielle met the last member of the troop, the healer and sole member of the chorus, Osteus.

His first words to the two women were, ''Need annathin' amputated tonight, ladies?''

They stared at him, unsure of what to say. Finally, Xena asked with a raised brow, ''Amputated? Such as?''

The doctor mused, ''Oh, ah dunno... fingahs, toes, ahms, laigs, that sorta thing. Ah do haids, too.'' He was skinny and so heavily wrinkled he resembled a blue-eyed capuchin monkey.

Gabrielle whispered to Xena, ''What's that weird accent?''

Xena whispered back, ''He's from southern Italy.''

''Ohhhhh....''

Xena turned back to the waiting Osteus. ''No, I don't think there's a call for any amputations tonight.''

Osteus pursed his lips in disappointment. ''Ah reckon I'll jest get back to mah herb gatherin', then. G'night, ladies.'' He tipped an imaginary hat in their direction and stomped off, muttering, ''Dammit, Tib, Ah'm a doctor, not a botanist!''

The dark haired warrior stood staring at the retreating man, shaking her head. There goes one crazy sawbones, Xena thought.

Gabrielle said, ''Xena? Do you really want to spend the night with these people? I mean, they're actors and all, and I know you don't really care to be around that many people at one time.''

Xena put an arm around the amazon bard's shoulders. ''I think we're safe enough, my...'' Hastily the warrior glanced around; seeing no one in lurking distance, she continued, ''sweet little bardie-poo.''

''Oooooh,'' Gabrielle moaned with a shiver, ''You know what that word does to me...''

Xena leered. ''You bet I do. Why don't we go over in those bushes and...'' The warrior leaned over and whispered extensively in the excited bard's ear. Gabrielle's sea-green eyes widened; as Xena continued her whispering, the pretty amazon's face got darker and darker...

Actually, Gabrielle's face was the exact color of a pint basket of over-ripe Bing cherries - however, only a member of those wild-yet-undiscovered Native American tribes could have told them that...

Or perhaps Lief Erickson... but the Viking explorer was in distant Greenland, sharpening his sword and muttering, ''Ericksonland? Liefland? Naw, sounds too much like an amusement park...,'' and eventually decided to give the whole New World thing a wash, much to Columbus' eventual delight.

Gabrielle's mouth gaped when Xena finished and drew back. ''You can really do that?,'' the bard asked in stunned amazement.

Xena nodded and her ice blue eyes were incandescent with lust. ''Mmmm-hmmm,'' she drawled, ''Remember, I have many skills.''

Just as Gabrielle was about to drag Xena into the bushes for a world-shakin' bout of what the warrior referred to as ''Potiedian Sugar Gathering,'' a thought struck her. ''Oh, gods, Xena,'' the bard moaned, ''we can't.''

The bard still vividly remembered the lewd comments of the bar patrons at the Goatboy's Amphora in Erosia the morning after that incredible night in Xena's arms... and Gabrielle had no desire for a repeat of that embarrassing performance.

Xena's eyebrow raised. ''Whaddya mean, can't?'' A thought struck the warrior as well, a reflection of earlier musing, and she whispered hastily, ''Um... it's not that time-of-the-moon, is it?''

Gabrielle glared at the dark haired warrior. ''No,'' she answered acidly, ''it is not that time-of-the-moon. Not yet, anyhow.'' The bard sighed. ''They'll hear us. Me. So we can't... you know, do it.''

Xena glanced in the direction of the actor's camp. ''They'll hear us? So what?,'' she said cheerfully, relieved that this was the only objection to the warrior's plan of several candlemarks of ''Bush-Breakin' Bard-Bangin'.''

''You don't understand,'' Gabrielle hissed, ''I can't. Not when I know they'll overhear us. It's too embarrassing. I couldn't... relax.''

''Oh.''

The two women were silent for a moment. Then Xena spoke up. ''What if I...''

''No.''

''Not even a little...'' The dark-haired warrior waggled her hips suggestively.

''Not a snowball's chance in Tartarus, Xena.''

The ebony-haired warrior thought furiously.

Finally, she threw her hands up into the air and whined, ''Aw, c'mon, bardie-poo! I wanna lick wine out of your navel! I wanna suck your sweet little tootsies! I wanna run my hot tongue up and down your creamy thighs until my lips at last find their way to your.... er, thingy,'' Xena finished lamely. ''What do you call your thingy, anyway?,'' the warrior inquired.

Gabrielle raised one red-gold brow. ''To which thingy are you referring?''

''You know... Your thingy.'' Xena emphasized her question by a vague gesture at the bard's southerly regions.

Comprehension dawned on Gabrielle's face. ''Oh, my thingy. It's a woogee.''

''A woogee? A WOOGEE?!'' Xena roared with laughter while Gabrielle blushed. ''Whoo-hoo! That's a new one on me! Imagine that... she calls it a woogee!''

''Well, what do you call yours?,'' the bard asked.

''Hmmm..'' The warrior thought a moment. ''Actually, I don't have a pet name for mine. I just call it a cunnus and let it go at that.''

Gabrielle stuck out her tongue and made a face. ''How crude,'' she said.

Xena spread her hands. ''Hey, I was a warlord, fer cryin' out loud! I didn't have time to nickname my anatomy.''

''Well, we still can't do it.'' Gabrielle crossed her arms, adamant.

The dark-haired warrior was growing increasingly frustrated. ''C'mon, bardie-poo. If it makes you feel better, I'll kill 'em all afterward... that way, no one will be left alive to tell tales of how you make the forest echo for miles when you come.'' With a leer, Xena continued, ''...like a plum, bursting in my mouth with sweet juices...'' That bardic stuff was beginning to grow on the normally reticent warrior.

Gabrielle gasped. Her woogee felt as if it were on fire, and she briefly wondered if smoke were issuing from the back of her skirt. Nevertheless, she stood firm. ''I said no, and I mean no! You'll just have to wait 'till tomorrow. Argo's shoe'll be fixed and we can continue on our way to our marriage. You do remember we're getting married, don't you?''

Xena's lips twisted. ''Aw, Gabrielle,'' the warrior said, ''I'm not sure I can wait that long! C'mon, honey-muffin, I need you!''

Gabrielle stamped one foot. ''No, no, NO! I will not do it in the bush; I will not do it if you push; I don't want them to overhear, so get the Hades outta here!''

''But Gabrielle...''

''No! Their ears are wide, the camp too small; I won't do it, no, not at all!''

Although Xena felt as if a Babylonian short-order cook could fry eggs on her loincloth, she was still impressed by the amazon bard's extempore poetry. It reminded her of that Germanic doctor... what was his name? Ah... Zeuzz.

''Listen, angel buns. Last chance.'' The dark-haired warrior ran her hands over her hips and breasts, licking her lips, and thought, what the Hades, that poetry stuff worked before...

Xena continued, ''This Love Boat's gonna leave the dock, I won't stand here and let you mock! So move your sweet butt double quick, or else I'll spank you with your stick!''

Gabrielle looked at Xena suspiciously. ''Have you been drinking wine again? I hate it when you get that grin!''

''Well, maybe just a drop or two. But that won't stop my loving you!''

The amazon bard sniffed and finally got over her poetic mood. ''Hmph. I'll bet. Look, maybe we should sleep in separate bedrolls tonight. Avoidance of temptation and all that. Goodnight, my big ol' dream-rabbit.'' She patted the astonished Xena's face with one hand.

As the increasingly shocked - not to mention sexually frustrated - warrior watched, the pretty strawberry-blonde flounced off, carrying her bedroll with her, to settle down conspicuously away from both the snoring actors... and Xena.

With a growl, Xena flopped down onto her own bedroll. Caco!, the warrior thought savagely. I'm not getting any sleep tonight!
 

PART IV: A GLIMPSE INTO XENA'S MIND...

Inside Xena's beautiful head, her emotions were at war.

Self-control wiped its sweating brow with the back of its hand and sighed. It's been one frimp of a day, the agitated emotion thought.

First, Self-control had been forced to restrain a raging Bloodlust, Anger and Homicidal Rage, who were now sitting together in a corner, smoking lethal little cigars and muttering sourly, while Paranoia hovered anxiously over their shoulders.

Frustration was banging its head into the wall, over and over, egged on by a maniacally drooling Lust, who was making pornographic sketches of Gabrielle with a red crayon and cackling insanely.

Disappointment was moping - as usual - whining about lost opportunities and repeating, ''You'll be sorry!,'' so often that the normally phlegmatic Self-control was ready to kill it - or at least apply a good old-fashioned Indian Rope Burn until it yelled ''Uncle!''

Conscience was still trying to revive Better Nature, who had been savagely attacked by Lust and Desire when it had tried to talk them out of their lascivious intentions towards the beauteous Gabrielle. Self-control still wasn't sure if poor Better Nature would ever be the same.

Discipline was goose-stepping all over the place, whacking emotions with its little swagger stick and yelling, ''Shape up! Get a grip, you low-life, scum-sucking, saltatrix tonsas! Are you emotions, or are you barbered dancing girls?! C'mon, c'mon... get down and give me twenty!''

Denial decided to ignore the whole affair and walked off alone, muttering something about joining a twelve-step program.

Calm, Cool and Collected, that usually down-to-earth trio, were huddled together, arms about one another's shoulders, whispering tearfully about ''The Lust Incident.''

And Lust itself started humping Desire's leg, eyes lit with an unholy fire. Self-control sighed again and grabbed the BIG whip. It was time to get Lust back into its cage... and maybe there would be time to sit on Frustration's head before tea...

...despite all this inner turmoils, eventually, Xena fell asleep.
 

PART V: THINGS THAT GO MUMBLE IN THE NIGHT

Xena's warrior senses alerted her to the presence of a warm body in her bedroll. Without turning over or opening her eyes, the still somewhat sleepy warrior knew it was Gabrielle. Her little bardie-poo had relented and it was time to play ''Corinthian Clam Hunt!''

Strong, warm, yet somehow delicate arms encircled the ecstatic warrior's torso, and firm fingers squeezed Xena's breasts.

Xena sighed and turned over. A mass of strawberry-blonde hair glinted in the distant firelight as the other woman bent her head down and kissed the strong column of Xena's neck.

Xena arched her back and moaned. Her hands sought the bard's breasts... so soft... so pliable... so... so.... FAKE!

With a savage snarl, the dark haired warrior pushed the other person away from her. ''Who the Hades are you?,'' Xena asked angrily.

Hands pushed tangled locks of strawberry-blonde hair back from a handsome yet shy face. ''Mumble,'' the other person said.

It was Davius!

Xena whipped out her breast dagger. Within her mind, Fury and Frustration finally shouted down Self-control, positively infuriating Bloodlust, who joined Homicidal Rage in a corner and pouted.

''You'd better have a very good reason for doing this, Davius, or...'' The enraged warrior's pale blue eyes held a dangerous glint.

''Mumble,'' the man said with a defiant air, dark eyes glazed. ''Mumble, mumble, mumble. MUMBLE!''

As the obviously lust-crazed Davius reached for her again, Xena's ebony brow rose and she gave the Roman lad the Look at Intensity #6, ice-blue eyes set on stun with an effort. The Roman shuddered then fell unconscious, a thin trickle of drool running down his chin.

Xena put her breast dagger back into its accustomed place (and hoo, boy! If that dagger could talk... it would most likely be paralyzed with awe, that lucky piece o' steel!) Grabbing the unconscious Davius' by the ankles, she dragged him back over to the actor's side of the camp and left him there, murmuring darkly under her breath, ''Actors... Death Grip... Zeus-damned stubborn bards!''

Getting back to her own bedroll, the furiously horny warrior struggled to get back to sleep.

''I'm gonna kill that bard,'' she said, closing pale blue eyes. After a brief power struggle between Self-control, Desire and Raging Hormones... the exhausted warrior finally fell back asleep.
 

Please comment to Nene Adams at wynna1@yahoo.com

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