Disclaimer: The characters depicted in the following are not mine. I am simply borrowing them for a piece of fan fiction for which I have not, nor will I ever, receive monetary compensation. No infringement is intended.

Author's Note: The following contains a direct quote from The Pretender, a snippet of dialogue spoken by the character Sandi in the season three episode, "Parole." The title of this fic comes from Jarod's response to her remarks.

I Would Remember Something Like That

By Ginger

"Well, hello there, sugar!" drawled the amply-endowed coat check girl, who wore little more than the women on stage. "Welcome to Naughty Nannette's!"

"Thank you," Jarod replied with a smile then continued, "I've just arrived in Clearwater and was wondering if you happen to know..."

"Okay, buddy, move it along and let Bunny do her job," interjected the doorman. He was several inches taller than Jarod, not to mention several inches wider. And, by the looks of it, every single inch was solid muscle.

"Oh, give it a rest, Tiny," the bubbly blonde shot back. "Nobody's waiting and he's the cutest guy that's come in all evening."

"Thank you!" Jarod chirped, although a quick sideward glance into the club indicated that it wasn't much of a compliment.

"You know the rules, Bunny. You're here to check coats, period. It upsets the dancers when you start fraternizing. They think you're horning in. And the last thing we need tonight is any..."

"Never you mind," the girl interrupted. "I can handle them. Just you worry about your job and I'll worry about mine."

The doorman muttered something inaudible then turned his back to them, leaving Jarod in the capable hands of Bunny.

"So, sugar, you were saying?" She batted her eyelashes at him. She wasn't a day over twenty.

"That's an interesting name you have."

"Oh, that." She rolled her eyes. "A nickname my daddy gave me. I used to hate it but it's pretty convenient for this business. When I was a girl, I just loooooved bunnies."

"Is that so?," he remarked, raising an eyebrow. "I once knew a girl who loved bunnies."

"Once, huh? Well, if you don't mind my saying so, if she doesn't know you anymore then she's a damned fool, sugar!"

"Jarod," he stated with a smirk. "My name is Jarod and, actually Bunny, I'm in town looking for a fr..."

"Oh, shit!" the girl exclaimed then blushed and guiltily clasped her hand over her mouth before continuing, "Um, excuse me, I really should send you on your way. I assume you're here for the main event and her second show is about to start. If you want a seat anywhere near the stage then we'd better have Suzy seat you now. Hey, Suz! Over here!" She motioned to another scantily-clad blonde who indicated with a nod of her head that she'd be right over.

"Main event?" Jarod inquired, perplexed.

"Miss Starr," the girl replied reverentially. "She's here for one night only. I can't really watch while I'm working but I saw her at rehearsal today." She gazed dreamily off into the distance and sighed. "She's a real class act... so regal."

"I'm sure," he commented wryly. "But the main reason I'm here is to hook up with an old friend while I'm in town and I was told that he..."

"Suzy," Bunny spoke over Jarod's shoulder and he turned to find another blonde standing behind him. "This is Jarod."

"Well, hello there, Jarod," the other woman greeted in a salacious tone.

"Take good care of him, Suz. He's a doll!"

"Don't you worry, honey. We'll take extra special care of him. Follow me, sir."

He was about to protest when he was interrupted by loud applause as the current *act* drew to a close. Shrugging, he followed the hostess into the club and allowed her to seat him relatively close to the stage.

Leaning in to speak directly into his ear, Suzy advised, "I'll send Candy over to take your drink order. Have fun, baby doll."

*They are rather fond of pet names in this place,* Jarod observed as he drummed his fingers on tabletop, which he tended to do when he was feeling impatient or restless. In this case, he was feeling a little of both. He had come in looking for information and was rather hoping to get it at the door and move on. Instead, he was destined to witness *Miss Starr's* second show of the evening.

*Lucky me,* he thought ruefully. He really wanted to get moving. He needed to find...

"And now..." a deep male voice accompanied by a tinny electronic drum roll boomed over the sound system, breaking his reverie. "The moment you've all been waiting for. Direct from her villa on the French Riviera..."

He raised his eyebrows, faintly amused.

"The management of Naughty Nannette's is both proud and honored to present..."

There was a moment's pause and Jarod glanced around to find virtually the entire audience perched on the edge of their seats.

"The lovely and talented..."

It seemed as though everyone in the room were collectively holding their breath. Jarod was fascinated. *This might turn out to be interesting after all,* he concluded, cocking his head.

"Miss Starr!"

The crowd erupted at the first beat of the music, catching him off guard so it was a moment or two before he glanced up at the stage. When he did, his first instinct was to close and rub his eyes. It was hardly the first time such a thing had happened to him. He'd driven through the night and had been on the move all day and it did tend to happen when he was fatigued. Still, this particular context was more than a little disturbing and would probably warrant a phone call to Sydney. He sighed heavily and opened his eyes, fully expecting all to be well.

Only it wasn't.

His heart pounding mercilessly in his chest, he closed his eyes one more time, assuming that he must have nodded off and was dreaming. Or perhaps Sydney's dire predictions about sleep deprivation were finally coming to pass and he was hallucinating. Whatever the case, he'd snap out of it. He would calmly make his way out of the club, go back to the motel to catch a few hours rest, and return the next day when he was feeling better. He slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the stage. Jarod's mouth dropped open as his eyes grew impossibly, comically large.

"Hey, buddy, we can't see through ya! Will you sit the hell down, already?"

He glanced around, disoriented. He didn't remember rising from his seat but, sure enough, he was standing.

"Hey, are you deaf? I said sit down!"

He felt a hand on his shoulder and jerked his head around.

"Whoa there, sweetie, let's take our seat, okay? We don't want the natives getting restless. What can I get you, big boy?" a petite brunette bearing a tray advised, doing her best to sound gracious over the din of the music and the crowd's enthusiasm. Jarod reluctantly sank into his seat then waved her off. He needed to think. He needed to...

Shimmer. She shimmered. Her thick hair shimmered; her flawless skin shimmered. There were tiny little rhinestones adorning her face and framing her beautiful eyes, which shimmered too. Her clothing, such as it was, was all silver. Her six inch heels were silver. She moved and it was like sunlight catching water, so natural and liquid. She was a goddess; amazing.

She grinned and the look of pure mischief dancing in her eyes made his heart skip a beat. Then she unhooked her long silver skirt with the glorious slit that, like the exquisite leg it revealed, seemed to go on forever, and slowly pulled it away from her body before tossing it playfully aside to reveal a pair of shiny silver tap pants.

"Yeah, baby, show us what ya got!"

The obnoxious voice bellowing from behind him reminded Jarod that he - that they - were not alone. There were literally dozens of eyes trained on her, drinking in her shimmering form; unworthy eyes seeking nothing more than a cheap thrill. His chest constricted as bile rose in his throat. Anger appeared to be displacing confusion but before he could decide what to do about it, she spun around, and around, and around.

His head moved side to side as he tracked her movements around the pole; up and down and around and around until, to his astonishment, she flipped upside down, her lethally long legs snaking up around the shiny metal. He felt beads of cold sweat running down his back as he struggled to have a coherent thought. The room got even louder; the whooping and hollering now constant. He couldn't think and he needed to... desperately.

When she tore her blouse open, the roar became deafening, which was compounded by the sound of blood thundering in his temples. When she began to teasingly inch her tap pants down her hips to reveal the strings of a shiny silver thong, he could smell blood. When she began to work her tap pants down her tortuously shapely legs, he could taste it. When she kicked them completely off and into the audience, the room appeared to be tinged red.

She was now clad only in a skimpy shiny silver bikini top, the matching thong, and death-defying heels. With one eyebrow perfectly arched and an enigmatic smile gracing her lips, she coolly approached the front edge of the stage, where several men were crowded around the wooden bar that ringed it. Every inch of her nearly-nude body shimmered and there were more tiny rhinestones arranged in a star around her perfect little belly button. Momentarily transfixed by the twinkling star, Jarod felt a yearning that bordered on agony.

As she smiled invitingly and crouched down in front of a man waving a bill of indeterminate denomination, the words of a young woman Jarod had met on a pretend some years earlier suddenly burst into his consciousness.

*Naked women... swinging around metal poles... strange men... cramming sweaty wads of money into strange women's panties...*

His hands balled tightly into fists, Jarod finally managed to assemble a complete thought.

*Over my dead body!*

He was up in a flash and when the Neanderthal behind him shouted, "Hey, I thought I told you to sit down!" he spun on him. Grabbing the man by the shirt collar, he yanked him out of his chair like a rag doll.

Glaring menacingly into the hapless man's eyes, he replied, "And I'm telling you to shut the hell up," before shoving him back into his seat and turning toward the stage just in time to see yet another slimeball pawing at her and attempting to untie her bikini top.

"Oh, no you don't!" he growled as he bounded toward the stage, vaguely aware of voices, some of which may have been addressing him, and commotion all around him.

He didn't care. The only thing that mattered was getting to the stage as quickly as humanly possible to peel that man's filthy hands off of her precious skin. He zeroed in on the two of them, not seeing or hearing anything else as his rage increased with every step he took. When they were within reach, someone must have shouted a warning of some kind because she looked up from her admirer and squinted through the glare of the floodlights to peer into the audience.

"Jesus!" he shouted. "You let these men touch you and you can't even see their faces!"

She gasped, her eyes growing wide as she frantically searched the faces in the shadows. Meanwhile, Jarod grabbed the man firmly by the shoulder and attempted to yank him back.

"Get off!" the man protested, shrugging out of Jarod's grasp. "I dropped a c-note for this spot and I'm not givin' it up for nobody! Come here, baby, don't let him scare you off!" he called out to the woman on stage who was now backing away and shaking her head warily.

Jarod jerked him violently around and demanded, "Are you going to get out of the way or am I going to move you out of the way?"

"Neither. I paid hard-earned money for a crack at the finest muffin in town and I hear this one's got the finest little..."

The man's reply was cut short by Jarod's fist connecting with his jaw. The music stopped abruptly, leaving only the sound of startled gasps and whispers as the sea of men at the bar parted, some backing away as others tended to their fallen comrade. Jarod ignored them all as he hopped up on stage and met her eyes for the first time.

"Ja..." was all she managed, instinctively closing her arms around her scantily clad body.

"W... what... w... why?" he babbled.

Her only response was to glare at him, shaking her head in disbelief until something on the periphery caught her eye and a look of anxiety swept across her face. He followed her gaze, turning just in time to see Tiny bearing down on him like a semi.

"Uh-oh," he muttered an instant before the inevitable connection with Tiny's meaty fist. The room went dark.

# # # #

See part 1 for full disclaimer.


I Would Remember Something Like That, Part 2

By Ginger


Having donned a silk robe, Parker stood over Jarod with a very tall glass of very cold water. He lay sprawled on the ugly lime green vinyl sofa taking up nearly half of the *deluxe* private dressing room she was granted as the evening's main attraction.

"I'm awfully sorry, Miss Starr," apologized the doorman as he stood beside her, more or less occupying the other half of the room and looking miserable. "I didn't realize he was a... a friend of yours. He didn't mention it at the door."

"Don't worry about it, Tiny," Parker offered amiably. "You were just doing your job, and Jarod never has been able to reconcile himself to my chosen profession, which is the reason he's my ex... well, *one* reason, anyway."

The man in question groaned and Parker raised an eyebrow, a look of faint amusement gracing her lips as she observed, "Looks like *Sleeping Beauty's* starting to wake. I think I can handle it from here. You'd better get back to your post. And thanks again for bringing him in here."

"Are you sure you don't want me to stick around? I could hang out in the hallway for a little while... just in case."

"Not necessary. He'd sooner die than hurt me," she replied confidently, noting to herself how easy this all was if one stuck closely to the truth.

"Well... okay, Miss Starr." Tiny didn't sound entirely convinced.

"Please let the manager know that I'll be in touch tomorrow to settle this mess. Obviously, I don't expect to be paid for the second show given the circumstances. Fortunately, there doesn't appear to be any property damage. I just hope the club is able to smooth things over with the guys Jarod manhandled. And, please, do convey my sincerest apologies to the entire staff."

"Will do, Miss Starr, but don't trouble yourself about it too much. In my experience, men usually find it less than worth their while to launch legal proceedings against an establishment of this kind. More often than not there's a wife or girlfriend somewhere who has no idea they've ever been in here, but I'm sure that's hardly news to a seasoned professional like yourself."

"Hardly," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"The manager will promise to take extra good care of them on their next visit and that usually does the trick. Guys love it because they can act like big shots in front of their friends. This isn't the first time we've had an *incident* involving a jealous boyfriend, ex or otherwise, and I'd be willing to bet a week's salary that it won't be the last. Hazard of the business, I guess. Men..." he tacked with a weary sigh.

"Indeed," Parker concurred, smiling graciously as she moved around him to get to the door.

Casting one last wary look at the unmoving heap on the sofa, Tiny bid her adieu with a nod as he gingerly backed through the doorway that barely accommodated him. Parker closed the door then turned to face the man who had, yet again, succeeded in creating chaos where there had once been order.

Only this time, he'd made a complete ass of himself in the process and, once the initial shock had worn off and Parker was able to regain control of the situation, it had occurred to her that she was faced with a golden, perhaps once-in-a-lifetime, opportunity. And she had every intention of seizing it. She ambled back to the sofa and gazed down upon him, musing:

*Here we are, Jarod, alone at last, and what an interesting turn of events.*

Jarod wore a tight-fitting forest green crew neck shirt that perfectly set off his darkly handsome features under a short black leather jacket that clung to his body as though he'd been born wearing it. His blue jeans were faded to a condition it would have taken several years longer to achieve than he'd actually been out in the world.

*How on earth do you manage acquire such things? Clearly you were armed and ready to charm your way through the evening... you little shit.*

Setting her jaw, she lifted and tipped the glass, emptying its contents over Jarod's face.

"Hey!" he yelped, his eyes snapping open. "I'm *not* unconscious!"

"I know," she responded icily, doing her best to contain the broad grin that threatened to break out at any moment. "That's what you get for playing possum."

Wincing, he rose stiffly into a seated position and placed his feet on the floor. Rubbing his tender jaw with one hand and the back of his neck with the other, he glanced sheepishly up at her through his absurdly thick eyelashes. He appeared wracked with guilt and thoroughly humiliated, and she thought it quite possibly the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

"How long were you really out?" she inquired, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"Not long," he answered, averting his eyes. "Just a minute or two, but since I thought there was something particularly undignified about waking up in the arms of a 400 pound man named Tiny, I decided to lie low until I was no longer in the company of your ironically-named colleague."

In an attempt to stifle a giggle, Parker emitted a small snort. Jarod jerked his head up to glare at her then groaned, wincing as he was reminded of his injury.

"You're enjoying this!" he accused, looking profoundly miserable as he resumed rubbing the back of his neck.

*Damn right I am!*

"Oh, really," she challenged, putting on her best righteous indignation. "If I hadn't thought quickly, you would be in jail right now. They don't take any bullshit here; it's company policy. Now, what if the Centre got wind of your incareration? And what if it led them back here and they somehow managed to figure out the connection to *Miss Starr?* What then? What the hell *were* you thinking, Jarod?"

"Well, clearly..." He paused, frowning. "I wasn't."

"Clearly," she repeated with an exasperated sigh.

"But I could ask you the same question, Miss..." A hint of the usual taunting tone appeared in his voice as he continued, "*Starr.* What on earth are *you* doing here... doing..." The self-assurance quickly evaporated, as he looked away again and added, "this?"

"Oh, didn't you know? I've decided to earn a few extra bucks on the side by adorning myself like a float in the Macy's Parade and prancing around in front of a bunch of horny strangers. What do you *think* I'm doing here, genius?"

He met her eyes again and stated, "You're looking for Ethan too."

"Ya think?" she asked, shaking her head incredulously then glancing heavenward.

He expelled a dejected sigh and offered softly, "I guess I owe you an apology and a thank you. They seem to have bought that story you peddled, and it's probably saved me a heap of trouble."

*Yeah, that whole jealousy thing was *such* a stretch, I can't *believe* they actually bought it!*

"Don't get too carried away, Jarod. My motives were not entirely altruistic. I'm not *exactly* who I claim to be either."

"You could've fooled me," he muttered under his breath, while looking as though he very much wished he were still unconscious or, better yet, dead.

"Excuse me?" She had heard every syllable but couldn't resist twisting the knife a little.

Startled, he replied, "Um, nothing... I mean, I was wondering... Were you able to find out anything... about Ethan?"

"Yes, but I'd rather not discuss it now. I don't know about you, but I'd prefer to get the hell out of here before my cover is blown."

"Well then," Jarod said as he began to rise from his seat. "I'll leave you to get changed while I..."

"Oh no you don't!" she declared, shoving him back into his seat with a firm hand to his shoulder. Foisting the empty glass at him, she warned, "I would strongly advise against leaving this room without me by your side. We should go out the back way together."

"But?" He nodded at her attire, or rather her lack thereof.

"I guess you'll have to close your eyes while I dress. And I'm warning you, Jarod, I'll be watching you the entire time. If even one of your eyelids so much as twitches, you're a dead man."

He nodded slowly and swallowed hard before squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Parker leaned forward a bit to study his face, so handsome despite the slightly pained expression and the nasty bruise that had already formed on his jawline. She smiled then turned to retrieve her street clothing and began to dress, keeping a watchful eye trained on Jarod the entire time, as promised.

When she was dressed, Parker waited a moment - or two - before saying anything. She reveled in the sight of him stranded uncomfortably on the horrid lime green vinyl sofa and clutching the glass so tightly that all the color had drained from his knuckles. She bit her lip to keep from chuckling with glee.

"Okay, Wonderboy, you can open your eyes," Parker announced as she stood waiting by the door.

Jarod complied, blinking up at her like like a small, furry mammal... a stunned, small, furry mammal.

"You can follow me or we can just take my car if you don't feel well enough to drive," she offered casually.

"Huh?"

Perhaps small, furry mammal was too high on the food chain.

Shaking her head, she explained, "To my place, genius. I'm staying in a nice little bungalow, not far from here."

"Um... I..."

"Well? Are we leaving *today* or not?" she barked impatiently then turned, opened the door, and stepped into the hallway. Hearing him scurry after her, she called over her shoulder,

"And leave the glass!"

Parker couldn't contain her smirk when she heard muttered swearing and the sound of Jarod scampering back into the room.

*Idiot.*

# # # #

See Part 1 for full disclaimer.

I Would Remember Something Like That, Part 3

By Ginger

It was all too strange. Surreal was the word for it, actually. If someone had told him that he would find himself on a couch in a bungalow in Clearwater, Florida – a bungalow currently occupied by Miss Starr, exotic dancer – he’d have replied that they were crazy. If they had deigned to mention that the lovely and talented Miss Starr happened to be none other than Miss Parker, then he’d have called the authorities to have them committed. As it was, he was beginning to think that having himself committed wasn’t a bad idea.

From the moment he'd seen her on stage, everything had simply spun out of his control. Ever since his escape from the Centre, it had generally been his preference to be firmly in control. Sure, he’d had the occasional lapse over the years but never quite so publicly or humiliatingly… and never in the presence of *her.* In fact, he had always been particularly careful to retain control whenever he was in physical proximity to her, even under the most arduous of circumstances, because somehow he’d always known…

*If you let your guard down around her, you’re dead.*

Well, maybe not dead but more than likely captive. Jarod still didn’t know exactly what was going on and that troubled him. On the ride from the club to the bungalow, she had been less than forthcoming about her recent *activities,* opting to hum along with the radio rather than engage in conversation. The sound of her soft humming, combined with the scent of her perfume in the close quarters of a small sedan, had made it difficult to think straight.

In retrospect, climbing into a car with her probably wasn’t the most prudent course of action. He should have insisted on taking his own car and following her or, at the very least, driving her car. For all he knew, Parker could have been delivering him right into the hands of the Centre. With her behind the wheel, it would have been much more difficult to escape without injuring her, which was out of the question. But when they'd stepped out into the parking lot, she had turned to him, brushed her fingertips tenderly across his bruised jaw, and voiced concern about his recent, albeit brief, period of unconsciousness. Although he had no recollection of doing so, Jarod must have agreed with her because he soon found himself speeding off into the night with Miss Parker planted squarely in the driver's seat.



So far, there wasn’t a Centre operative in sight, except for Miss Parker, that is. As promised and without incident, she had delivered him to a cozy little bungalow on a quiet, tree-lined residential street. He had followed her inside where she’d amiably advised him to take off his jacket and have a seat on the couch then said she’d be right back and disappeared. He had done exactly as she'd asked even though, for all he knew, she’d gone into another room to place a telephone call. Perhaps the Centre had finally struck upon a sure-fire way to trap him. A sweeper team might come barging through the door at any moment and, yet, he felt disinclined to move a muscle.



As she had pointed out earlier, if Parker wanted to bring him back to the Centre, she had already forfeited a golden opportunity. If this were a Centre trap, the most logical place to spring it would have been the club. Dressed as law enforcement personnel, a sweeper team could have dragged him out of there without an objection from anyone. If he had protested that they weren’t who they claimed to be, everyone would have thought him delusional at best, deranged at worst, and justifiably so based on the behavior he’d exhibited.

Jarod chewed his lip nervously. He had just done something that would appear ludicrous to any rational being cognizant of the circumstances of his existence. He had placed himself completely in the hands of his would-be captor, his huntress, Miss Parker. Oh sure, he could claim that he'd done so out of concern for his - for their - younger brother but he knew that was nonsense. He could have insisted she spill her guts in the parking lot and parted company there. He was, indeed, concerned for Ethan but this trip to a cozy little bungalow was about something else entirely.

It was about her. It was about why she would undress in front of a bunch of men who, under normal circumstances, she'd be more inclined to pistol whip. It was about her smile; a smile he hadn't seen in decades and yet there it was, on stage for the enjoyment of a bunch of strangers who could never begin to comprehend its value or truly appreciate its beauty. It was about how easily the words rolled off her tongue when she described him as an ex-lover. And it was about the feeling Jarod got in the pit of his stomach when he heard her describe him as such. It was precisely the feeling he had worked so hard to quell whenever he'd been in close proximity to her in the years since his escape. Only, this time, he had failed miserably.



*You've let your guard down around her. You’re dead.*

"Careful there, Jarod. You'll rupture something."

He looked up to see her leaning in the doorway and holding two plastic sandwich bags filled with ice. Her hair remained pulled back in a ponytail, she still wore the warm-up suit she'd put on in the nightclub, and she had yet to remove the rhinestones and glitter adorning her face... and other locations. *I wonder if all that glitter comes off on her clothing,* he thought to himself before stammering,

"U... um, did you say something?"

With a heavy sigh Parker glided into the room and replied, "I could see all those little wheels turning in that hyperactive cranium of yours. I can only imagine what it's like in there right now... but I think I'd rather not."

A small smirk playing on her lips, she stopped right in front of him and held out the bags of ice. The smell of her perfume assaulted him once more and, for the life of him, Jarod could not comprehend the significance of the offer. His only course of action was to glance dumbly at the bags of ice then up into her face, all the while feeling like a complete idiot.

Shaking her head, Parker leaned forward. Jarod couldn't help but flinch as she reached around his head to place one of the bags on the back of his neck. She chuckled and it was a low, throaty sound that did nothing to ameliorate the feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Now, lean your head back," she instructed softly. "There you go," she added in a tone that one could actually describe as warm, maybe even affectionate.

She pressed the other bag gently to his jaw then reached down to lift his hand and place over the bag to hold it in place. He could feel her warm breath on his face as she hovered, tending to him.

"This isn't necessary," he whispered awkwardly. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, you seem fine," she responded wryly.

He could feel her fingertips on his forehead, brushing aside a lock of his hair. Apparently, he had closed his eyes at some point; he couldn't recall when.

*Oh yeah,* he thought. *You're dead. She'd never be this nice to you. It must be a trick. Maybe she's abandoned the idea of bringing you back in favor of murdering you with her bare hands. I can imagine the headline now: Body of Mysterious John Doe Found in Quiet Residential Neighborhood.*

Sensing the loss of Parker's presence, Jarod blinked his eyes open and turned his head slightly to see her take a seat beside him on the couch. Frowning, he adopted a tone that suggested he'd long since conceded this round of whatever game they were playing and inquired,

"So, Miss *Starr,* you mind telling me what the hell is going on here?"

Her wide, triumphant smile was as cruel as it was beautiful but he couldn't help but offer a small smile in return. Like just about everthing else this evening, it was simply beyond his control.

"Well," she beamed. "I've found Ethan and he's safe."

"You've seen him?"

"No, but I know he's safe. He'd been living down here for a while and befriended a girl in the business."

"When you say business," Jarod said as he straigtened and removed the bag of ice from the back of his neck, tossing it and the one for his jaw aside before continuing, "I assume that you are referring to the field you have temporarily entered."

"Indeed," she replied cheerily, adding, "But I am happy to report that baby brother doesn't frequent strip joints. Apparently, they lived in the same apartment complex and that's where they met."

"That all sounds lovely but I got a message from a friend saying that he was in trouble."

"By the way, want me to thank that *friend* of yours when I get back to the Centre? It will require climbing into the ventilation ducts but I'll be happy to do it if you like."

Parker raised an eyebrow and smirked. Jarod glowered.

"Oh, come on, Jarod, I've known for ages. Besides, how do you think Angelo knew? I woke up in the middle of the night with a funny feeling. It was like someone had whispered something into my ear, something about Ethan. So, I dug out a letter he sent me a while back and took it to Angelo. He pointed me in the right direction and I knew damned well that he'd..."

"Contact me about our brother."

"I figured it couldn't hurt to have us both on the case but I never in my wildest dreams imagined you'd come bumbling into my path the way you did." Shaking her head and sighing, she added, "Which, when you think about it, was really rather stupid of me. Don't you think?"

Jarod shrugged. Parker smiled.

"So," Jarod remarked with a frown, feeling even more foolish than he did before, if such a thing were possible. "Ethan is fine and this was just some kind of false alarm with your 'Inner Sense.'"

"Not exactly. I guess this friend of Ethan's is alright because she got wind of a guy in the business, an agent who was recruiting underage girls for *private* photo sessions, and raised hell about it. Club owners are constantly under seige by community groups, religious organizations, feminists, whatever, so they just hate this type of thing. They don't want to give the people trying to shut them down any ammunition so they're pretty good at self-policing. The guy immediately became persona non grata in the club circuit. Suffice it to say, he was more than a little ticked off about that."

"I think I can see where you're going with this. He came after Ethan's friend."

"Lisa. Her name is Lisa and, you guessed it, he threatened and roughed her up a bit. When Ethan found out about it, he went after the guy, guns blazing."

"Uh-oh."

"Exactly. The ER records indicate that little brother took quite a beating. I guess this guy is never without his posse, a couple brainless but large creatures that Tiny informs me work out at his gym."

"You'll have to give me the name of that gym," Jarod said menacingly. He *would* deal with them.

"Oh, that won't be necessary," Parker responded with an enigmatic smile.

"Why? What did you do?" he asked, eyeing her warily.

"All will be revealed in due course, Jarod. Oh, that reminds me..."

She reached into her pocket, produced a piece of paper, and handed it to him. It was an address in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He cast her an inquisitive look.

"That's where you'll find Ethan. Lisa took him back to her folks' place to recuperate. Bunny tells me they've grown even closer over this. I think our boy may be in love. When you head up there tomorrow, will you please ask him to check in with his sister once in a while?"

Jarod's only response was to stare, agape.

"Don't look so surprised. I *do* have the gene, remember?"

He remembered and he knew how capable she was; he'd always known. Perhaps he had begun to take her level of intelligence and skill for granted, which, in the case of this woman, was a perilous thing to do.

"And my role in all this was?" he asked rhetorically then sighed.

Shrugging, Parker offered, "Comic relief?"

"Cute. Not funny, but cute."

She laughed and that feeling in the pit of his stomach, which had abated somewhat during their discussion of Ethan, returned. Then something occurred to him, compelling him to inquire in a slightly accusatory tone,

"Wait a minute. If you already had everything you needed, why did you find it necessary to go through with it? Tonight, I mean. You didn't have to... you know."

"And waste all those long hours of practice?" Her eyes glowed with mischief. "Do you think it's *easy* to swing around that pole?"

"Well, I guess you're not *obliged* to tell me," he grumbled, feeling decidedly cranky.

"You're right. I'm not," she replied with smirk. "But I know how your twisted little mind works. Whether or not it's any of your damned business, if I don't answer each and every one of your questions to your satisfaction, you won't rest until you find out another way. And I don't need any more surprises right now."

He didn't bother to dispute her statement because he couldn't.

"Well?" he prodded impatiently.

Parker shook her head then began, "I can understand how, under the circumstances, the novelty would have *completely* worn off for you but..."

"What?" he asked softly and leaned forward in anticipation. He very much liked it when Parker confided in him; it made him feel hopeful and worry about her less. Although she had done so a few times over the years, it was generally under more harrowing circumstances.

"There's just something so... liberating... about becoming someone else. I mean, it's not as though being me is any trip to the Fair."

"Based on what I've seen since I've been out here, I don't think life is a trip to the Fair for anyone, Miss Parker, at least not all the time."

"Perhaps not but I have to think that, for most people most of the time, it sucks less than mine does."

"And life as a stripper would be better?"

"Well, of course not. It's just that..." She cocked her head and gazed thoughtfully into the distance.

Jarod was reminded of the way it used to be, when she'd sneak off to find him at the Centre and they'd talk for hours. The feeling in the pit of his stomach was now accompanied by a familiar constricted sensation in his chest. He was in dangerous waters now and had to remind himself that to have her friendship back would be too much to hope for. This was just a temporary detente brought on by their shared concern for Ethan, nothing more.

"Miss Starr is well-liked, and not just for the *obvious* reasons. Bunny was following me around like a puppy dog all afternoon and Tiny treats me like I'm a princess. I know you may find this hard to believe," she added with a wry chuckle. "But I don't tend to get a lot of that back home."

"Oh, Parker," Jarod sighed. He smiled sadly and shook his head. Apparently he wasn't the only foolish one in the room.

"What?" she demanded, looking adorably incensed.

"I can't believe you managed to miss the supreme irony here."

"Irony? What irony?," she asked, crossing her arms defiantly before adding, "C'mon, spit it out, Wonderboy."

"The irony here is that the Miss Starr you pretend to be is a lot more like the real Miss Parker than Miss Parker is."

"Excuse me?"

"You're not *really* going to make me repeat that, are you?"

He raised an eyebrow; she scoffed.

"Even though it's been a while, I recognized her right away; that smile, those eyes, that wicked playful streak. It seems a pity that you allow a bunch of beer-soaked strangers see a side of you that you keep hidden from the people in your life. Then again, given the quality of some of those people, I can't say that I blame you. They're even less deserving than the beer-soaked strangers."

"Whatever," she huffed, rolling her eyes.

"Like it or not, Miss Parker, you sparkle."

"It's called body glitter, Jarod, and I'm wearing about half a ton right now."

*Well,* he figured, *since we've come this far...*

"Fair enough, but how does that account for the other 364 days a year?"

"Oh, shut up," she muttered, a small, grudging smile forming on her lips as she looked away from him.

A long silence fell as they sat, side by side, each staring off into space. Jarod began to feel awkward, well aware that, by any reasonable standard, it was time to bid her adieu and catch a cab back to the club to pick up his car. The problem was he didn't feel like it; in fact, depriving himself of her company was about the last thing he felt like doing. He opted instead to prolong the encounter by remarking,

"Direct from your villa on the French Riviera... fancy."

Shrugging, she turned to him and said, "I thought it sounded more exotic than 'Direct from her stone cottage in Delaware.' Besides, Miss Starr *is* a veteran of all the best clubs in Europe: Berlin, Amsterdam, Paris."

"Very clever," Jarod observed. "It gives her an air of legitimacy while explaining..."

"Why nobody over here has ever heard of her," Parker tacked on proudly.

She appeared content and thoroughly at ease with herself, and he thought it quite possibly the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. The dual sensations in his stomach and chest now combined to form one large knot.

*You sparkle.*

Glancing away from her, he confessed, "I still don't know how you could do it, though. All those eyes on you, leering. I'd never be able to..."

Jarod looked up to find Parker grinning at him and it stopped him dead in his tracks. He knew that look; like he'd told her earlier, he recognized it immediately. When they were kids at the Centre, he'd get that look whenever Miss Parker was feeling playful, mischievous. Only, now that they were all grown up, it seemed to be working to an entirely different effect. He swallowed hard and tugged nervously at the collar of his shirt, which suddenly felt too tight.

"You see, Jarod," she began, her voice sounding somehow different, deeper.

He thought it evocative of a purring cat. Yeah, that was it... purring. Purring.

*Uh-oh.*

"I fell back on a little trick of the trade. When they're up on stage, a lot of girls pretend that, instead of stripping for the sweaty masses, they're performing for one special someone. They'll play to a person whose world they'd really like to rock. Some use fantasy men - Brad Pitt, George Clooney, whoever happens to float their boat. Some use forbidden fruit like the husband of a friend or relative. And some... some use the men in their lives... boyfriends, husbands... whoever."

"Whoever," Jarod repeated distractedly as he noticed that Parker had inched a bit closer to him on the couch.

*Uh-oh.*

"And I must be a real natural." She leaned closer, close enough to give him another whiff of that heavenly perfume, and whispered, "Wanna know why?"

*No, I most definitely do not. In fact, I believe that would be a very bad idea.*

Even as those words formed in his mind, he nodded yes emphatically.

"You know that person whose world I'd really like rock?"

He nodded again, having apparently lost the capacity for speech.

"Well, I must have been pretending so hard that I made him materialize before my very eyes."

"Y... you did?" he stammered.

What if he were mistaken about her intentions? It would be beyond humiliating and would probably destroy the good will that now existed between them. The only prospect more terrifying was that he was absolutely correct about her intentions.

"I did," she replied, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

"Tomorrow," Jarod blurted, desperate to know which fate she had in store for him. "Y... you said when I headed up to see Ethan... *tomorrow.*"

"Indeed, I did," she concurred throatily then gracefully rose from her seat and turned to face him.

"So tell me," she began, arching a perfect brow at him.

*You've let your guard down around her.*

"Ever been the recipient of a private lap dance, Wonderboy?"

*OH... MY... GOD!*

The only response he could muster was to shake his head gravely. His fate was sealed.

*You're dead.*

# # # #

See Part 1 for full disclaimer.

I Would Remember Something Like That, Part 4

By Ginger

*Careful, now,* Parker counseled herself as she popped a CD into the player. Jarod already looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a very large vehicle and she didn’t want to do anything to spook him further.

*Breaking into song probably wouldn’t be advisable,* she mused as she turned to find him fidgeting on the couch, his eyes darting nervously around the room. He was well and truly scared shitless. It was almost too good to be true.

*Almost.*

When things went wrong – as they did, often – they tended to go epically, biblically wrong. *Why,* she reasoned, *shouldn’t it be the same when, for a change, things go right?*

She was on the righteous side of a cause for once, having set in motion the sequence of events that would avenge her baby brother's assault. That, in itself, would have been sufficient. Jarod's wildly entertaining arrival was just the icing on the cake.

*Mmmm... icing,* Parker thought, imagining a creative use for creamy chocolate frosting. For as long as she'd known him, Jarod had always reminded her of chocolate, particularly those eyes: luscious, forbidden and so very sweet. And tempting... definitely tempting. The way she figured it, she had been a *very* good girl and deserved a treat. And this particular confection was definitely one hundred percent fat free.

"Ready, Jarod?" she purred, adopting the most benign smile she could muster given the content of her thoughts.

He swallowed hard and nodded adorably. She flicked on the CD player then off-handedly tossed aside the remote as the first chords of the sultry, exotic music filled the room.

"Now," she instructed throatily, even as she began to sway to the music. "As a professional, I must lay down a few ground rules before we begin."

"Ground rules?" Jarod asked, his interest obviously piqued.

"Ground rules," she purred, reveling in the sight of those deep brown eyes, so large and full of wonder, being drawn to her swaying hips.

"A private lap dance involves one-on-one contact between patron, that's you, and performer, that would be me, so we *must* heed all the rules. After all, one false move and what started out as harmless entertainment could quickly degenerate into something that constitutes a felony in this state. Do you understand?"

He nodded gravely, as though she'd just shared a secret of vital national security. Parker was forced to bite her lip to stifle a giggle. *Careful,* she reminded herself, then continued aloud,

"So, for the duration of the lap dance, you must not, at any time, place your hands on any part of my body. In fact, my best recommendation would be to keep your hands at your sides at all times. Oh, and you are not to attempt to kiss me. In fact, any contact between your mouth and my body is strictly forbidden. Do you understand?"

Again, he nodded, looking like a soldier who'd just been called to the front. Cocking his head, he looked thoughtfully into her eyes and inquired, "Are you... are your actions constrained in any way?"

*Ah,* she thought. *So those notorious self-preservation instincts haven't failed him... not completely anyway.*

"Good question," she observed with a slight shrug. "My actions are governed by the same rules. I am not to touch you..." As she tugged at the drawstring of her workout pants, she tacked on knowingly,

"With my *hands,* that is. Nor am I to employ my lips... tongue... teeth..." She clearly enunciated each word. "In any manner on your body. Now... having said all that, I can assure you..." she promised seductively as she continued to teasingly play with the tie at her waist.

"You'll find the experience worthwhile or *Miss Starr* doesn't know her business."

She spun around, placing her back to him as she continued to rock to the music. Glancing invitingly over her shoulder, Parker inquired,

"So, you still with me, Jarod?"

"Yes, thank you."

Slipping her fingers into the waistband of her pants, she mused,*Yes, thank you? Is he for real? I'll bet the little shit's playing me. Well then... play away, monkeyboy. I'll still blow your mind.*

Parker decided to stop thinking and do exactly what she had been doing earlier, and rather successfully until Jarod had shown up and inflicted his usual chaos. She surrendered her body to the music and began to dance unselfconsciously. Man, it was fun; it felt good to dance for an audience of one, for *this* audience of one.

As the loose cotton pants slid effortlessly down her legs, she heard Jarod gasp and knew the source of his astonishment. She wasn't wearing the silver tap pants, or the shiny silver thong, but a pair of delicate lace panties, basic black. And she knew that he knew; this wasn't Miss Starr's costume, it was Miss Parker's intimate apparel. A knot of excitement coiled in her stomach.

She had surprised him.

Gracefully stepping out of the pants now lying in a heap on the floor, Parker did a perfect pirouette that must have been a vestige of all those dance classes she'd taken as a child because, until that moment, she hadn't been aware that she knew how. While continuing to move to the rhythm pulsing through her body, she looked into Jarod's eyes and found a thoroughly intoxicating combination of awe, fear and yearning then noticed that his hands were already balled tightly into fists at his sides. He was visibly trembling and a thin sheen of perspiration glistened on his forehead. She took a moment to ponder how his sweat might taste then, without breaking their gaze for an instant, began her slow, relentless advance on him.

Standing toe to toe with Jarod, Parker gracefully lifted her left leg to place a bare foot onto the sofa beside him, causing him to visibly tense as he stole a nervous sideward glance at the nude, shimmering, shapely limb now in such close proximity to his person. Leaning in, she gestured toward the zipper to her thin hooded sweatshirt and offered,

"Care to do the honors?"

"B... but I thought?" he began but stopped when she shook her head slowly and cast him a playful, mock frown.

"I said you couldn't touch my body but I am not aware of any rule that says you can't touch a zipper on a piece of clothing."

He didn't move a muscle.

"C'mon, Jar," she teased. "I'm sure a smart boy like you is capable of successfully operating a zipper."

She unleashed that devilish, slightly taunting expression she'd employed when they were kids, whenever she sought to persuade him to do something against his better judgment, which was often. Now, as then, it worked like a charm.

He slowly unballed his left fist and gingerly lifted his hand to grasp the zipper with a shaky hand. Sucking in a deep breath, he gently unzipped the top while politely focusing his eyes anywhere and everywhere in the room except on her.

"The point *is* to *look,* Jarod," she advised with amusement in her voice. "I *know* you were looking earlier, at the club, so you might as well look now."

The moment he met her eyes again, Parker immediately regretted it. She was afraid of something like this; it had been her only reservation. Feeling a lump forming in her throat, she swallowed hard and steeled her resolve.

*We're here to have *fun* tonight... period!*

"Are you okay?" His voice was a tender, soulful whisper as he offered, "You don't have to, you know. I understand if you're feeling..."

"Fine," she interrupted in a clipped tone while wrestling a powerful urge to caress his cheek. His compassion was *not* helping. It rarely did.

"I'm feeling just fine," she reiterated as she shimmied out of her top and made a show of tossing it aside.

Parker now hovered over Jarod in lacy black panties and a matching bra. He finally allowed his gaze to settle upon her, taking her in for several long moments before his face erupted in what was probably the most uninhibited, sincere look of wonder she had ever seen. She knew what was coming next and braced herself.

"You're... beautiful," he said softly.

He cast his eyes shyly up at her and Parker found herself searching them for any hint of insincerity. Suddenly, it *did* matter whether or not he was for real. With all that had passed between them in the years since his escape, the one thing Jarod had never done was lie to her with his eyes.

*Oh yeah, he's for real.*

She leaned forward and growled, "Time to get down to business, Jarod," then lifted her leg off the sofa, twirled around again, and recommenced swaying to the music.

"Another star," Jarod observed a bit more matter-of-factly than she would have preferred as his eyes came to rest on the rhinestones affixed in her *trademark* pattern to the small of her back. "I somehow missed that one earlier," he added in a slightly strained conversational tone.

Glancing over her shoulder and smiling, she asked, "Do you like it?"

"It's very nice, but I have a question."

*Of course you do.*

"Yes?"

"How did you manage to get the rhinestones so perfectly aligned in a rather... inaccessible location?"

"Well, I *could* tell you..." Parker began with a cheeky grin, then added, "but then I'd have to kill you. I'm going to sit down now. Ready?"

"As I'm ever likely to be," he muttered softly and somewhat distractedly.

She could feel his eyes burning into her lower back. He was staring at the star; she just knew it. Grinning, she reached up to pull the rubberband out of her hair. Shaking her head to make her liberated locks spill onto her bare shoulders, Parker hesitated a moment, a little taken aback when she sensed the palpable energy passing between their bodies even though they hadn't touched yet. She had to admit to herself that it had always been there, from their very first face-to-face encounter when she'd vowed to get him, and he'd replied "Wanna bet!" and had her strip searched.

*Fitting revenge,* she mused as she slowly sank down onto his lap. *Looks like Wonderboy lost the bet after all.*

Any reservations she may have had evaporated the moment she made contact. Jarod didn't move a muscle and she was pretty sure he had stopped breathing. Perched on the edge of his lap, Parker commenced swaying on his firm, muscular legs. Gyrating to the music, she managed to elicit a startled gasp from him as she tossed her head back to give him a face full of her hair then, turning her head, cast him a smoldering, mischievous look. The look she recieved in return was so evocative of the first boy she kissed that, were it not for the intense lust taking precendence at the moment, she might have burst into tears.

Instead, she slithered off of his lap using his long legs as a slide. When she reached the floor, Parker turned around to face him, narrowing her eyes as if to say, "Now you're going to get it." Planting her hands on the either side of him on the the sofa, she retraced the journey she had just made, pressing her torso against his legs as she slithered back up again and reveling in the low groans that escaped from Jarod's throat as her lace-covered breasts slid up his denim-encased legs. It felt very, very good.

Climbing back onto the sofa, she kneeled across his lap and flexed the muscles of her inner thighs to straddle him *tightly.* Parker locked Jarod in gaze and drank in the vulnerabilty and raw need she saw in his eyes then inched forward at a tortuously slow pace, all the while swaying in perfect time to the hypnotic rhythm of the music. When her chest was only a couple inches from his, she stopped and glanced down at the clasp of her bra then looked knowingly up at him.

His eyes grew wide and he stammered, "I... I... d... don't..."

Shaking her head slowly, Parker brought a finger to her lips to shush him, then traced that finger under her chin, down her neck, and all the way to the fastener in question. With an inviting smile and a flick of her finger, she unclasped her bra then slowly, teasingly removed it to reveal what lie beneath.

His eyes widening further, if that were possible, Jarod's jaw dropped and he exclaimed, "More stars!"

"Well," she replied with a deep, seductive laugh. "They *are* Miss Starr's trademark."

"Wow," he said with a boyish grin.

"Wow indeed," she purred in response, watching with amusement as he stared unabashedly at her *trademarks.* It was beyond cute.

When she'd watched her fill, Parker braced herself by placing her hands on the back of the couch then inched forward to bring her torso into full contact with his. Jarod released a strangled cry at the sensation of her *stars* rubbing up against his fine, sculpted chest. He felt so powerful, so male. It was exquisite.

Straigtening on her bent knees, she instructed softly, "Lean back and slide forward on your seat a bit. Good boy," she added sweetly when he swiftly complied.

Parker leaned forward so that her hair fell like a curtain around his face. Turning her head gently from side to side, she swept the silky strands across his face. Jarod's breathing became more labored as he took even deeper breaths in an attempt to draw in her scent. She was more or less panting herself by that point, particularly when she noticed the visible tension in his shoulders. He was trembling, struggling to control himself. He wanted to touch her... desperately. She knew this because she wanted it too... desperately.

"How are you doing, Jarod?" she whispered, her hot breath commingling with his as their faces remained only an inch or so apart.

His only answer was a shuddering sigh. She had rendered him speechless. *Who knew,* she mused. *Who knew that life could be so beautiful?*

Parker pressed closer then sank down, bending her knees until the lower half of her body touched the lower half of his at a most advantageous location. Jarod flinched at the contact then let out the most ragged, desperate moan she had ever heard. It was music to her ears.

"Ah... I can s... see you're doing just fine," she remarked haltingly.

Her own body quivered head to toe with arousal as she ground her body against his. She became lost in an erotic trance as she moved against him, her pelvis thrusting in time to the music. It felt better than anything had in a very long time as she surrendered completely to the experience.

The spell was finally broken when it occurred to her that the music had stopped, and all was quiet except for the sound of their heavy breathing. Only then did she realize that she had closed her eyes. Opening one, she peeked out from beneath her tousled hair to find him looking hot, sweaty and extremely flustered, and figured that she must look about the same.

Opening both eyes, she sat back on her heels, brushed aside the strands of hair that were sticking to her slick skin, and inquired a little breathlessly,

"So, what's the verdict? Does *Miss Starr* know her business?"

Obviously striving to get his heartrate and respiration under control, Jarod cleared his throat and replied, "I have no basis for comparison, but I cannot imagine how anyone could have done better."

Parker smiled an open, unguarded smile. He responded in kind, prompting her to brush his hair out of his eyes and smooth it across his damp forehead. Blinking adoringly at her through his thick eyelashes, he asked,

"Is this the point at which I am supposed to stuff legal tender inside your intimate apparel?"

With a smirk she answered, "Yes, now would be the time."

"But my wallet is in my jacket pocket." He nodded in the direction of the chair over which his jacket was draped.

"Oh well," she said with a sigh. "I guess I'll just have to exact *another* form of payment for my services."

Parker wrapped her arms around Jarod's neck and claimed his mouth in a deep, punishing kiss. Although he kissed her back in earnest, after a minute or so she realized something was amiss and glanced down to find that his hands remained planted firmly at his sides and balled so tightly into fists that they were virtually white from lack of blood flow.

Pulling away from him, she frowned slightly and advised, "The lap dance is officially over, genius."

"I am aware of that," he stated.

"Then why," she began then paused to lift one of his hands, pry it open, and plant it firmly on her hip before continuing, "Why aren't you using your hands?"

Averting his eyes, he replied awkwardly, "I... it's just that... I'm a little confused."

"About what?" she asked incredulously. He couldn't possibly be confused about her intentions; the events of the evening had not been an exercise in subtlety.

"I... I just don't understand why, all of a sudden, you..."

Shaking her head and smiling, she pressed her forehead to his and explained, "First of all, genius, it isn't exactly all of a sudden. You've only been working on me for, what, five years? Inflicting those big puppy dog eyes on me every chance you get... reaching out to me at my weakest and most vulnerable moments when I most need a friend... I guess you just wore me down. Second of all, you made a complete idiot of yourself tonight... and in public, no less."

Pulling back and looking rather bewildered, Jarod asked, "And that's a *good* thing?"

Nodding emphatically, Parker responded, "When a man who always seems so in control, and who has gotten the better of you more times than you'd care to count - a genius no less - makes a total ass of himself over you, it is a *very* good thing."

He pondered a moment then commented, "That's it? That's all it took? If I'd only known..." He emitted a heavy sigh then continued, "I'm a complete idiot all the time, Parker."

"Jarod."

"Even after all this time, you'd be surprised by how much I still get wrong. You should see the way people look at me sometimes."

"Jarod."

"And half the time, I don't even bother to figure out what I've done or said or..."

"Jarod!"

Parker finally succeeded in shutting him up by grasping his head firmly in both hands. Cupping his cheeks, she smiled warmly and suggested,

"Let's deal with this on a case by case basis, shall we?"

They gazed into each other's eyes for a long moment then he shrugged and muttered, "Works for me."

Parker's mouth curled into a sly smile that was answered by one of Jarod's *gotcha* grins, the first she'd seen all evening. She was about to comment on it when he pulled her into a crushing embrace and engaged her in a hot, bruising kiss. And this time he let his hands roam freely.

# # # #

See Part 1 for full disclaimer.

I Would Remember Something Like That, Epilogue

By Ginger

*What a dream!*

Jarod thought cheerily as he ascended into consciousness, feeling more relaxed after a night's sleep than he had in a very long time. With a long stretch he yawned then groaned and rubbed his jaw.

*I didn't dream that part.*

Blinking his eyes open, he propped himself up on his elbows and glanced around the large, sunny room. Shifting his weight to one elbow, he ran a hand over his face and through his disheveled hair then took a deep breath. Furrowing his brow at a strange sensation in his navel, which fell somewhere between an itch and a pin prick, he probed his belly button to produce a small, round object that caught the light when he held it up. His eyes grew wide and his face erupted in a joyful grin.

"I hope these are non-toxic," he muttered with a sigh. He was sure he'd ingested at least a dozen.

Quirking an eyebrow, Jarod took a moment to survey his appearance, which was in *disarray* to put it mildly. He was sprawled naked on a bed that looked as though it had been in the path of a cattle stampede. His skin shimmered in the sunlight as he now appeared to be the one wearing at least a half ton of body glitter, not to mention a few additional rhinestones trapped in the hair covering his chest and running in a seam to his navel... and beyond.

Smiling like the cat who swallowed the canary, he plucked out the rhinestones one by one then shifted his weight to his other arm when he became aware of something stuck to his elbow. Tugging at the small piece of silver cloth in the shape of a star, he emitted a soft yelp as the adhesive pulled at the hairs on his arm. Glancing warily around him, he mused,

*I can only imagine where the other one is stuck... unless I swallowed that too.*

Jarod noticed the lipstick stains in rather indiscreet locations, as well as marks of a more permanent nature, and shrugged. It was only fair really; he most certainly left a few marks of his own. He flopped back onto the mattress and grinned up at the ceiling then sighed heavily.

He knew she was long gone because he'd have been were he the first to wake. A night of unbridled passion was one thing, facing each other the morning after was another, and neither of them would want to risk doing or saying anything to tarnish the perfect memories they had created. Jarod closed his eyes and smiled dreamily.

*Wow, that was fun!*

In fact, he could not recall ever having as much fun, not in a single evening anyway. She was amazing; a force to be reckoned with. He'd always been acutely aware of her passionate nature but he'd forgotten how playful she could be and, now that they were all grown up, those characteristics combined to create an experience beyond his wildest dreams. He chuckled softly when he recalled how, at one point, she'd rendered him stunned and speechless, not to mention more than a little winded. Noting his look of surprise, she had kissed him tenderly then grinned triumphantly. Having earlier breathed a warning into his ear that it would be a whole new experience with her, she was true to her word.

With another wistful smile and heavy sigh, Jarod opened his eyes and blinked into the light streaming in through the window. He had slept away most of the morning and needed to get moving in order to reach Baton Rouge at something approaching a reasonable hour. As it was, he'd probably have to wait until the next day to pay a call on his little brother. He slowly sat up and swung his feet over the side of the bed, wincing when the tight muscles in his lower back made their presence known.

*Maybe she was trying to kill me after all,* he thought wryly as he stood and wrapped a sheet around his waist. It was all a bit of a blur, but if memory served then his clothing was to be found somewhere in the vicinity of the sofa. That's the direction he headed, stopping off in the bathroom on the way to take care of a little business.

A towel having replaced the sheet around his waist, a freshly showered Jarod ambled into the living room and shook his head at the sight of his clothing in a neatly folded pile on the couch. Lying on top of the pile were the keys to her rented sedan. He drew in and released a deep breath then slowly began to dress. When he was finished, he picked up his leather jacket to reveal a videocassette with a note attached, reading:

*Play me.*

Glancing around, he noticed the television and VCR for the first time, which was strange considering they were in a cabinet against the wall facing the sofa. Shrugging he crossed the room, popped the tape in, and turned on the set. It was the local morning newscast and didn't appear to be significant until, a minute or so into the tape, the anchor announced,

"We're going back to Lucia Perez who's been following a bizarre story all morning."

Jarod crossed his arms and watched intently, occasionally shaking his head and chuckling softly.

"And the plot to this already bizarre tale thickens. Just a few minutes ago, we received a report that one of the three men found early this morning chained to the flagpole in front of Ross Norton Recreation Center - one of several facilities in town that serve as 'Project Safe Place' sites for in-crisis and runaway kids - is under investigation for running a teen porn ring. The other two gentlemen are described as 'associates.' Authorities say that charges against all three are pending."

"Lucia," the anchor broke in. "Has there been any explanation as to how the men ended up in such a predicament?"

"I spoke to one of the first officers to respond and all she could tell me was that they were, indeed, discovered tethered to the flagpole wearing, and this is a direct quote, 'very little.' Another source reported that, prior to being taken to Plant Hospital for examination and toxicological screening, all three were muttering incoherently about, of all things, a vigilante stripper. What can I tell you, Steve, this just gets weirder. I'm sure the authorities eagerly await the results of those tox screens."

"Thanks, Lucia. I know you'll keep us posted with any new developments."

Jarod switched of the set and retrieved the cassette, feeling a mixture of pride, admiration, adoration and, yes, just a hint of unease with how well she'd done her first time out. Narrowing his eyes and smirking, he conceded out loud,

"Damn, she's good!"

He shrugged then turned to swiftly cross the room and grab his jacket. He was halfway out the door when something occurred to him and he stopped, turned, and headed back toward the bedroom, returning quickly as he slipped a few tiny mementos into his pocket. In doing so, he noticed two slips of paper and retrieved them both. One was the address she had given him the night before; the other was a note bearing a lipstick mark of the same shade as those he'd just scrubbed off his body. It read:

*Until next time... Miss Starr*

Jarod grinned all the way to Baton Rouge.

FIN

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