Random disclaimers: This is the third part of a series/continuing story and if you haven't read Stud I and II, you'll be totally and completely confused. As such, all previous disclaimers still apply, just in case. However, in this part, there's a little swearing and a lesbian relationship, but it's so PG it hurts.

Random thoughts just because I'm a bard and can: I want to thank all the little people who made -- oh, wait, wrong speech. Sometimes being a bard rocks and this part brought upon one of those moments. It encouraged someone to write me who has became a good friend, and then more. This is dedicated to her. She knows who she is.

If you wanna join my madhouse, you can sign up at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/SBerrysStories/ My email is still sberrythebard@yahoo.com.

I've never asked a chick out before. Offerin' a quick (or even a slow) screw ain't the same as a date. But I find myself holding the post it with Cynthia's number on it in one hand and the phone in the other, trying to get up the nerve to make the call. I haven't seen her in three days and I'm not expecting her to call for another two or three at least. I miss her. So here I am, feeling more like a teenager than I did when I *was* one. I have no idea what I'm gonna say. Somehow, I don't think "I'm a pathetic loser who's so damn pussy whipped I can't stand to be away from you for a week" would go over well. Or maybe it would. Girls are funny that way.

The next thing I know, I'm dialing her number and listening to it ring.

"Hello?"

"Um, hi, it's, um, Syd." I just barely keep myself from adding 'from the bar', like she knows so many Syds she can't keep them straight. God, I hope not. I wouldn't be straight for all the women in the world.

"Oh, hey." She sounds happy to hear from me. That's the story my inner optimist told me, anyway.

"Are you busy this afternoon?" This afternoon? I thought the plan was for tonight! Christ, what the hell am I doing?!

"Depends." I can hear the grin in her voice. Yes! I have a date! If I can think of something to do.

"On what?"

"If you manage to ask me out before the sun goes down."

"Oh, um... would you like to go on a picnic?" Picnic? I've never gone on a picnic in my life and since when have I wanted to change that?! The outdoors is out of doors for a reason and it ain't so we can eat in the wind.

She sounds just as surprised as I feel. "A picnic? You don't strike me as a picnic kinda girl."

"I'm not." I confess. "It just sounded romantic." Oh. My. God. I just said the 'R' word. In a sentence. A sentence referring to me.

"It's *very* romantic. I knew you had potential. Are you making the food or am I?"

"I am. I asked." Good lord, now I'm cooking! If I call her honey, I'm shooting myself. There's only so much change a person can take at once.

"Okay. When are you picking me up?"

"An hour and a half? Will that give you time to get ready?"

"Yeah. More than enough."

"Great. I'll see you in a little while then."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye h-- Cynthia." Jesus H. Christ... I almost called her honey!! Where's my gun?

I pick up Cynthia right on time. Oh like I was really gonna kill myself and miss a date with her. Get real.

She greets me with a peck on the check and a big smile. "I love picnics! Thank you for asking me."

"I missed you," I confess, blushing. Congratulations, Stud, you're officially retired. Sydney has completely taken over.

"I'm sorry I've been so busy with work. I've missed you too. Phone calls aren't the same." She gave me this funny smile and reached over and squeezed my knee, then left her hand there.

I'm surprised. She hasn't really touched me since our night together. We'd had a couple of dates since that weekend a month ago. She'd been too busy for more than a quick supper and kiss on the cheek good night. There'd been a few short phone calls, but not nearly enough. I don't know how I managed. She finally wrapped up whatever project she was on a couple days ago and she called to say she'd call me this weekend to get together. I just hadn't been able to wait.

"Hey, can we take the bike today? It's such a nice day and I've been wanting another ride," Cynthia asked, interrupting my thoughts.

"Sure, I guess. I think lunch will fit in my saddlebags. We can stop by my place and pick it up." The idea of having Cynthia holding me tight is wonderful. Besides, it'd been awhile since I'd ridden my baby. I've been acting respectable and driving my car.

I love pissing people off.

"Mmm... Harleys make me *sooo* hot," she purrs seductively in my ear.

I almost wipe out in the parking lot. Oh lord, I really hope she decides we've been on enough dates to sleep together again -- very soon. Very, *very* soon.

"Is this the right place?" I ask her.

"Yep. God, I haven't been here since I was a kid. I'm glad I still remembered how to get here."

I grab my saddlebags and tentatively take her hand. She smiles at me and squeezes my hand. I grin happily. I love holding her hand. I'd never really held a girl's hand before Cynthia. (Of course, as you should know by now if you've been paying attention at all, there are a lot of things I've never done before her.) Her hand feels so soft and delicate in mine, but I remember how strong they felt that night when she took control of my body. The night I started becoming the woman I should've been.

She leads me to a shady spot under a tree by the creek. I help her spread out the blanket she insisted we bring along. I help her sit and get a kiss on the cheek. Oh, yeah, the ladies really go for that gallant crap.

Eating outside really isn't that bad when you have a beautiful woman sitting beside you. Especially when she's exclaiming over what a wonderful cook you are. (Yes, I cook -- I have to eat too, you know.)

After we get finished eating, she put away the food and then she smiles at me. "Time for a nap."

"A nap? Here?!"

"Yep... Lean against the tree," she commands, giving me a little push.

Reluctantly, I do. I'm rewarded when she crawls over to tuck herself between my legs, leaning against my chest and pulling my arms around her. I pull her closer once I realize what she wants. Boldly, I lean down and steal a kiss. It's only her cheek, but it still counts. She just smiles and moves closer to me and closes her eyes. I enjoy looking at her too much to close my eyes. Plus, I'm a little uneasy about sleeping out in the open. Old habits die hard.

A few minutes later, she opens her eyes and asks me what's wrong.

"Nothing's wrong. Just keeping watch."

"Keeping watch on what? We're out in the middle of nowhere. Are you afraid Bambi's going to bite you in your sleep?"

"I just don't like sleeping out in the open," I say defensively. I'd rather have her think I'm afraid of the wildlife than explain my past. I don't want her to leave.

She looks concerned, but she doesn't ask me why, thank God. "Hey, if it really bothers you, we can go back to my place and cuddle on the couch and watch TV or something."

Sighing in relief, I agree quickly and help her pack our things.

My bike won't start. I've tried every thing. I've repeated every colorful word and phrase I know at least five times. I can't believe this is happening. It's bad enough to be broken down without Cynthia watching my incompetence. Hell, what am I going to do? It's at least five miles to town. And I can't just leave my bike here. I knew I should've gotten a cell phone, especially considering my job, but I never have. I wonder if Cynthia has one?

Of course she does. She's a ... What the hell does she do anyway? I've never asked. I suppose I should. I frown. She calls a tow truck and a friend to pick us up. No one can get there for an hour, though.

We sit down and get comfortable on the ground. I sit and stare at my greasy hands. I feel like such an idiot. I always keep the bike in perfect working order. What happened?

"I thought you didn't want to stay here, Syd," Cynthia comments after a few minutes of silence.

"I didn't do it on purpose, I swear," I say, crossing my heart like a five year old. Christ, she would think I did something.

"Uh huh. That's why it ran perfectly until we were leaving," Cynthia raises an eyebrow skeptically.

"I don't know what happened, but I swear I didn't do anything." I don't know what to do or say. Shit, why can't I do anything right?!

She reaches over and squeezed my hand. "Hey, I'm just giving you a hard time, Syd. I know you didn't do anything."

I sigh in relief, then I realize what she's done. "Shit! My hands are greasy, Cynthia. Now you're all dirty, too." I try to pull my hand away, but she won't let go.

"A little dirt never hurt anyone, Syd, and I want to hold your hand, so just chill."

I chill. She has a look in her eyes that makes it clear that disobedience will not be tolerated. I may be a big tough biker chick, but I'm not messing with my little executive. I'm tough, but she's sneaky. And she could refuse to let me have any more kisses.

"You know, we've been dating for almost two months now and I don't really know any thing about you. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

Oh great, the family talk. What to say? "I don't really like to talk about my family. Or my past. I had a very painful childhood and I don't like to remember." Might as well be flat out honest.

She just stares at me and blinks. "You aren't going to be evasive with me? Pretend to tell me things without really saying anything?"

I shrug. "I thought about it, but why bother? You'd figure out what I was doing and get mad at me anyway."

She laughed. "Good point." She was quiet a minute. "Is there any thing about you you *can* talk about?"

I think about it, and I find myself telling her a little about the good parts of my childhood. It feels good to talk to someone about it. She just leans against me and listens. She doesn't press me for more than I can give. I wonder if it'd be so bad to be domesticated.

I'm beginning to think it wouldn't be.

Her friend shows up just as I'm about to attempt a kiss -- a real one. We'd been quietly talking and cuddling and I was feeling so close to her, I thought maybe she'd let me. I just help her up. I don't even remember my hands are greasy until her friend hands me a paper towel. I thank her and wipe some of the grease off. I just hold my hands in my lap after I manage to fold my legs into the small backseat. Cynthia gets the same treatment. Her friend just grins and drives us back to Cynthia's. The tow truck guy had already come and gone.

At Cynthia's, I stand outside awkwardly while they chat. I don't know whether I should go inside or what. I've never gotten closer than the curb before. She always comes out before I can get out of the car.

Finally, they finish talking and Cynthia takes my hand and apologizes for making me wait. Of course, I say it's all right and it is. She's holding my hand, what could be wrong? Don't answer that.

Her house is elegant, as I had suspected, but only in the 'public areas' as she calls them. Upstairs, it's more homey, though the furnishings are still expensive. It's way more fancy than my little bachelor pad. Her damn couch costs more than my entire apartment. I'm afraid to touch any thing. She doesn't seem to notice as she leads me into her bedroom.

"I'm afraid my clothes won't fit you, so I guess we'll have to improvise. Go ahead and take a shower in the master bath -- towels are in the top drawer. I'll shower downstairs and try to figure out something for you to put on."

"I can wear my birthday suit," I suggest hopefully.

She just laughs and pushes me toward the bathroom. "Take a shower, Stud."

"I'm going, I'm going," I laugh.

It doesn't take me very long to shower and clean up after myself. I find myself reluctant to wander around, although I'm fairly reasonably well covered by my boxers and undershirt. I could have told her that, but it was more fun to suggest my birthday suit. That ain't the only fun thing about my birthday suit either, but I'll restrain myself from further comment.

Twenty minutes later, she walks into her room carrying a blanket. "Hey, Syd, are y--" She stops when she sees me. "I see you are done. Why didn't you mention you were wearing decent underwear?"

I shrug and grin unrepentantly. "I did, but you didn't like my suggestion."

She throws the blanket at my head and laughs.

"Why does my soap smell so much better on you than it does on me?" Cynthia asks a little while later. She's practically laying on top of me on her couch where we're watching some show on TV. I can't tell you what it is because all my attention is on the woman in my arms. Something has changed between us. We're more relaxed with each other and I know in my soul that sometime tonight we're going to take another step in our relationship. I don't know whether it'll be physical or emotional, but something will happen.

"I don't know, but someday, I'd like to discover if mine smells better on you," I reply in my sexiest voice, which is mighty damn sexy, if I do say so myself.

I bend down and kiss her. Really kiss her. One of those toe curling ones you wish would never end.

When I pull away, she looks at me dreamily.

Woo yeah! I still got it.

Stud 4

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