The Plum Universe below is due to the genius of JE.

Fredda (Rangergirl1234) thank you so much for your hard work as the beta on this story and for encouraging me even when chapters take interesting turns.

Amy (beancounter74) as the real life inspiration for Dr. Walker I hope you like this one.

Chapter 7 - Stephanie

I had a few minutes before Amy would arrive, so I took that time to set up the goodies I'd snuck in for us. I picked up Mooner this morning, so I already had some left over snacks, but I stopped by the Quick Mart to add to my stash to help give us a nice little junk food buffet to talk over during my evaluation. Chips with French onion dip, some M&Ms - both plain and peanut butter filled, Cool Ranch Doritos, and a pint of Half Baked Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream with two spoons. That seemed like enough to tide us over for an hour.

Just as I was pulling the seal off the cap of the ice cream the door opened and Amy walked in holding a file in her hands. I knew she was focused on her reading, so I just continued what I was doing and waited for her to look up. I'd known her long enough to know when she was lost in her thoughts there was no point in trying to interrupt.

She managed to walk over to the chair beside me and plop down in it without looking up once to see where she was walking. If it had been me, I would have run straight into the table and landed hair first in the dip. Sometimes I really hated being such a klutz.

She shut the folder and tossed it on to the table with it sliding into the side of the chips. Her eyes got bigger as she took in the spread in front of her, and then a big grin came over her face. "You know, if it were anybody else I'd accuse them of trying to sway my professional opinion by buttering me up with snacks."

"And since it's me, what do you think?" I couldn't help but ask.

"I think it's you using me as an excuse to gorge yourself on junk food, knowing that as long as that door is closed no will sneak in here and either steal it to eat themselves or to rat you out to Lester," she said, hitting the nail on the head while stealing a hand full of M&Ms.

"Guilty," I admitted, knowing there was no point in denying it. I'd spent many phone conversations with Amy complaining about Lester's new interest in what I was eating. Ever since I told him about my dream where I'd been pregnant he's been obsessed with getting me in better shape. I didn't mind the running too much, and the self-defense and sparring training had been fun, but the harping about my nutrition of late was getting on my nerves. I knew he was right that what I ate would directly affect the baby, but I wasn't pregnant, and we weren't even trying yet, but I could tell from the look on his face whenever he thought about us stating a family. He would get the most tender expression on his face and he'd find a way to put his hand on my belly. It was hard to be upset with him when he was being so loving and gentle.

"So what do we need to do for the evaluation?" I asked, not wanting the food in front of us to keep us from getting down to business.

She laughed and said, "You know you're the only person that's come in here looking forward to talking."

"What can I say?" I tried to brush it off. "I don't really have any secrets since everyone can read me so well, plus I figure you know me pretty well, so if you thought I was completely nuts you probably wouldn't go out of your way to spend time with me."

She nodded her agreement before saying, "I did read the evaluation from last year where my predecessor had some interesting comments about your position with the company."

"Let me guess," I wondered if I could sum up what the old pervert had written about me. "He thought I didn't have the training or skill to do the job. On top of that, he thought I was a complete nymphomaniac for enjoying a job where I dressed like a streetwalker and paraded around in front of men in bars. Then he probably said that because of my relationship with Ranger he wasn't at liberty to fail me on my evaluation."

"Bulls-eye on every single count," Amy conceded, reaching for the Doritos. "Does it bother you?" She asked around the crunching.

I shrugged, trying to figure out the right answer to the question. "Sometimes." I should have known better than to give her such a vague answer. She was giving me that stare that I knew meant I had some explaining to do.

"The guys who have been here the longest know the deal completely. When I put on the slutty clothes they joke around about me looking good, but when we show up at the bar they are completely professional about it. And when it's over they put a coat on me and get me back home because they understand that it makes me feel dirty. So with them, there is never a problem because it's just a job, and they recognize that it comes with a certain cost to me, so they do everything they can to minimize the cost." I always relaxed when a distraction was scheduled with only the guys I felt closest to. Not only did I trust them the most to be sure nothing got out of hand, but I knew they'd get me in and out quickly so that I could put the night behind me quicker.

"But when I work with a new guy, or if someone sees me that doesn't understand why the distractions are sometimes necessary, then I don't like it. They automatically presume that I'm a whore because I'm dressed like one. They assume I enjoy having those creeps put their hands on me and say disgusting things, and no amount of explaining will change their minds." I shivered involuntarily as I thought about how some of the skips had handled me.

"What about Lester?" That was an interesting follow up question.

I stopped to really think about the question while a bite of ice cream melted on my tongue. "Before we were married he was the first one to make a comment about my outfit and always the one I could use to help me get the skip's attention, but since I changed my last name to his, I think he's struggled more with them."

"What do you mean by struggled more?" She asked, holding out her hand for the ice cream. I handed it over, keeping my spoon and watching as she picked up the spare one on the table.

"He drives me to the bar, and I can usually tell from the look on his face that he likes the outfits, but he doesn't make any rude comments. He doesn't work inside - ever. Sometimes he's at the door for the take down, but just as often he's not even working, he just hangs out in the parking lot until I'm finished with my part. Then he brings one of his coats over to me and puts it on me, keeping me close to him until we're released to leave. He takes us to the condo, never to the building, and walks me up to the shower and kisses me softly before walking out and leaving me in there alone to get cleaned off. When I'm ready to come out, he's almost always in the kitchen making some sort of light snack and we watch a movie on the couch with him holding me against him in some super close position." I gave her all the details of our post distraction routine.

"Why do you think he does that?" She wondered.

"The first distraction I worked after he was back was a horrible experience. He was at the door and had to listen through the earpiece as the skip came onto me. That guy was a total creep, and I had a feeling things were off from the very beginning, but I refused to pull the plug because I knew it was the last night RangeMan could get the bad guy. I got him to agree to walk me to my car but just before we got the door he pulled out a knife, put it to my throat and then walked out thinking he could use me to keep himself from harm. In the process of the guys disarming him, I got a little roughed up and ended up with a long gash in my chest that had to be stitched up at the hospital. Lester took me to the ER and while we were waiting he noticed I flinched whenever he held me. He kept pestering me until I told him how dirty it made me feel to have the skips hands all over me and how I struggled to feel like myself until I got a shower. Then I needed time just to pull the plug on the persona I used to have such a creep come on to me and get back into my own head." I remembered him holding my hand on the gurney waiting for the guy to finish my stitches. He was listening so intently that I just spilled it all out for him.

"The next distraction that came up went much smoother, and Lester hung back until the end, then he put his coat on me which smelled wonderful and calmed me down right away, but he didn't try to handle me too much. The rest of the routine he just seemed to understand was what I needed, and I was able to snap out of the post distraction funk that used to last for so long much quicker. I thanked him for knowing just what I needed and giving it to me. But then, that's just how Les is. When he sees there is something I need from him, he'll stop at nothing to give it to me." I told her, knowing the last part sounded incredibly corny but saying it anyway because it was completely true.

"Do you realize half this building seems to be in love with you?" She asked out of nowhere.

"What?" I screeched. "They most certainly are not."

She gave me a look that told me I had no clue what I was talking about, so I decided to level with her. "I know they love me, and half of them probably think of me as a little sister that needs to be protected and watched over. The other half either have women or men of their own, or at some point had a crush on me, but that was only because there was a time that I was the only female that gave them steady attention and didn't do it for their money. That hardly constitutes love."

"I could argue that point with you, but I'm not going to right now," she said with a grin. Amy loved a good debate, so I was a little worried that what ever was coming next must be good to make her pass up a nice banter about love. "The men who are in love with you didn't make a move to make their feelings known to you because of Ranger."

I rolled my eyes. "Please…Ranger used to call the guys to the mats if they disrespected me or were the cause of me being hurt in some way. If they had feelings for me and didn't act on it, I'd say it was because they were afraid, but it had nothing to do with Ranger."

"What was it then?" She seemed curious.

I had to think about it. "Maybe that they were afraid it would screw up the office dynamic if I dated one of them and rejected the others. Of they were afraid I would say no and then they'd lose the contact that they had with me because it would create an awkward working relationship. There was a time right after they really started accepting me, but before we were all as close as we are now, when I was amazed at how they reacted to me. I would brush against them in normal work situations and they would lean into me. I remember touching Cal's tattoo and he shut his eyes and took a deep breath. It was like watching a cat being petted and loving the physical touches. I could tell these guys wanted the contact, but didn't know how to ask or respond to it, so I tried to find ways to touch them without it being sexual, and they were so receptive. Maybe they were worried that if they asked me out I'd stop touching them completely."

She seemed to be mulling that explanation over and made a non-committal move with her head to say it was possible, but she wasn't completely convinced.

"So why was it so easy for you to commit to Lester when you ran from the cop for so long?" She pulled another unexpected bomb out.

"My mother would love to know the answer to that question as well," I told her with a smile. "I guess because Joe wanted to marry me because it was what he wanted, and it was what was expected, and it was the move that made the most sense for his life. Lester wanted to marry me because he loved me, it made the most sense for my life, and he didn't give a shit about what people expected. Mostly, it was because in my gut I always knew Joe and I didn't belong together, but I couldn't exactly push myself away from him either."

"Why couldn't you?" Of course she'd want to get into this.

I looked at the table and said, "If you want to talk about my past relationship woes, it's going to take something a lot stronger than Ben and Jerry's to loosen my tongue."

She jumped up and went to the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out some paper cups like Bobby gave us water to take pills with, and a bottle of some amber colored liquid. "Shots?" She offered.

This had horrible idea written all over it, so I grinned and said, "Line 'em up and keep 'em coming."

We tossed back three each and then sat back for a few minutes, waiting for our livers to give up and the alcohol to start going straight to our brains. "You know, I'm not sure your evaluation is going to be worth much if you're too drunk to type it," I teased.

"I finished your evaluation last week. Today is just an excuse to make you talk about your past and answer all my questions."

"The last time we drank together we ended up talking about sex, and Les was listening in," I reminded her, beginning to feel the effects of the speed drinking and held out my cup for another.

"If it would help, I could crack the door," she offered. "I think Bobby's in his office."

"Nah, there are some things I don't think they need to hear," I replied honestly. After tossing back the shot I started talking. "I stuck with Joe because I was afraid of being alone, and he was a good friend and comfortable to be around. Ranger I had this unimaginable sexual energy with, but trying to have a relationship with him would be like trying to date the wind. It blew in when you needed it, but you couldn't contain it or make it do what you wanted it to. Once I realized that, it was easier to accept him for what he was in my life – a powerful force that I needed, but I couldn't claim as my own."

"I didn't know drinking made you so poetic," she slurred slightly.

"I don't think I recognized any of this at the time, but hindsight is one hell of a teacher," I admitted, remembering that time when I felt so completely alone after Ranger had made it clear we would never have a relationship, and I finally broke it off with Joe. I think the perspective of having something good and honest with Lester was what helped me to understand what was so wrong with the unhealthy triangle I'd been in for so long. I lifted my newly filled cup and said, "To hindsight."

"The bitch," Amy said with a snicker.

"Yea, why do these life lessons have to hurt so damn much? I mean, I'm happy now, but am I supposed to believe there was no way for me to get where I am without having walked through the hell I went through to get here?" I wondered.

Amy shrugged, "Would you change the past to save yourself the hurt it if meant you couldn't have your happiness now."

"Not a damn bit of it," I quickly admitted, wondering why drinking made us cuss more. "Would you?" I turned the tables on my friend who was deliriously happy with Bobby, but had her own past of horror and pain.

She shook her head. "I miss V, but I love Bobby. I can't imagine my life without either of them."

"I used to wonder why my life was so screwed up," I smiled at how I resisted the temptation to say fucked up and blame the liquor on my sailor's vocabulary. Then I thought of Hal and how he never swore, so I wondered where the whole sailor's swearing stereotype came from.

"Everybody thinks that," Amy assured me. "Even the people that you think have lived easy lives with no issues ever wonder the same thing."

"You mean everybody's as fucked up as I am?" I couldn't believe it, and then I cringed realizing the naughty word had escaped anyway. Maybe I should have turned down that last shot.

Amy laughed and then said, "Well, the grade is really more of a sliding scale, but yes, everybody has something they regret or can't understand about their life that makes them question why their circumstances are the way they are."

There was a little silence while I let that settle in my fuzzy brain, and then she spoke up once more. "It's why I think it's so funny when the guys ask me if they're crazy. If they only knew how sane they were compared to most people, they wouldn't ask me that. The rich cushy life people are the ones I think boarder on deranged most often. They've had very little true trauma in their lives, yet they are paranoid, unhappy, and unfulfilled. They have no frame of reference to appreciate what they have, so they feel discontent. If you ask me that's as close to crazy as you can get."

"It's like my Grandma Mazur likes to say," I began to giggle trying to get out my thought. "Money can't buy you happiness…"

Amy jumped in, having spent enough time with my family to know the rest, "because that's what sex is for."

We both started laughing uncontrollably. Grandma Mazur might be a bit odd and a little scary, but once you got used to that she was funny as hell, and right now I was just drunk enough to appreciate her sense of humor.

Then I remembered why I was here and said, "Wait a minute, you did my evaluation last week?"

"Yep," Amy agreed making the 'p' almost its own syllable.

"How? You didn't even ask me any questions," I was curious how that was legitimate. Of course, getting drunk with the person you were evaluating wasn't exactly legitimate either, so maybe I should let this one go.

"I've been watching how you work and it's damned impressive. You don't back down, you use all the skills you have in your arsenal, and you do what is often a hard job in a way to protect everyone involved. When you are in high stress situations, you use perfectly valid coping mechanisms to get you through, and then you let out the stress in a healthy way afterward. I have no fear what so ever about you flipping out one day, unable to process the strain you are under because of your job."

"You realize you just said it was healthy to slip into denial, right?" I said finding that funny.

"If you were denying it after everything was over and resolved I would be committing you. But you are just avoiding the reality in order to keep functioning to resolve the situation. There's a big difference if you think about it. Plus, I've seen you crash afterward, so I know you don't bottle it once it's all over with," she assured me. That much was true. She'd seen me fall apart in tears, and she'd seen me get pissed off and mad. I never realized those were healthy responses.

"What time is it?" I asked, not able to focus on the little numbers of my watch.

Amy pulled out her phone and told me we'd been here for two hours. "Shit," I responded, making her ask what was wrong with that.

"Les is going to come down to find out why I haven't come back upstairs, and he'll find us a little bit tipsy," I confessed.

"Why is that a problem?" She asked, knowing I didn't hide stuff from Les, and there was no way I was going to sober up in time to keep this a secret.

"He won't care about the drinking, but if I get a good buzz like this and don't cross the line into sloppy pass out drunk territory, then I get really horny," I said probably giving her more information than she needed.

"So again I ask you why that's a problem? You guys still have the apartment upstairs, so just take him and have your naughty way with him," she advised with a wicked smile.

"What about you, does the booze turn you on?" I pushed.

She started laughing before confessing, "All it takes is being in the same room with Bobby lately, and I'm so turned on I hardly know how to control myself. Honestly, I made it through high school and college with better control of my hormones than I have now. But I've never tested the whole being drunk as foreplay idea with Bobby. We never get past the first drink before one of us starts losing clothes."

I realized instead of giving her too much info I had invited her to over share with me. "Do you think they'll be upset that we got wasted on the clock?" I asked, feeling a little guilty.

"I'm not on the clock," she announced, "and you don't have to be either."

Realizing she was right took away the guilt, and I took my phone out of my purse and opened my eyes wide to try and make the screen come into focus a little better. "What are you about to do?" Amy asked, moving over to sit beside me on the couch.

"If we are technically done with my evaluation, and I'm officially not taking any more shots after this one," I announced tossing back my latest refill, "Then I'm going to let my husband know I have a need that only he can meet."

I leaned over so she could read what I was typing in to send as a text to Lester. "You can't send that!" She blurted out.

I squinted hoping that would take away the fuzzy edges of the letters and read what I'd typed, 'I've been drinking and need your services'.

"What's wrong with that?" I asked. "He'll know I'm drunk and horny."

"When is his shift over?" She asked

"Another hour," I guessed, based on what time I thought the phone was showing.

"Then that will mean he'll be sitting at his desk picturing you horny and unable to do anything about it. That's mean," she pointed out. "Maybe just tell him we're done and staying down here to drink. He can figure out what kind of state you'll be in by the time he gets down here in an hour."

"I can do that," I agreed pressing the delete button and typing, 'Doing shots with Amy. I miss you.' I pushed send without meaning to.

She read behind me and started laughing. "I think that may be worse than your first one. Poor Les, maybe I should send something to Bobby so he can explain."

She pulled out her phone snickering as she punched in, 'Steph and I are doing shots and she told Les she's horny. Can you help him?'

After she pressed send and showed it to me I burst out laughing. "You realize you basically told your husband to help my husband with his hard on."

"Oh, do you think he'll do it?" She joked as we both began to giggle like school girls.

As we began to calm down I sighed and said, "Why is the idea of Bobby helping Les with a hard on so damn exciting?"

Amy made a noise of agreement and said, "All guys want to see their girlfriends make out, but they'd never return the favor and let the girls watch as they service their guy friends."

"Yea," I agreed as my imagination got carried away with that image. There's no way I'd ever share Lester with another woman, but I had to admit the visual in my head of Bobby and Les with each other had me feeling a little tingly. Well, it was the image, or it may have been the shot Amy gave me while we were talking about it.

Somehow in the process of texting, reading over each other's shoulders, and pouring/drinking shots, we were side by side with our arms crossed over each other. It was comfortable and comforting to have a friend like this that understood me, didn't judge me, and seemed to get the way my mind worked because hers worked the exact same way.

Before I could get too carried away thinking how lucky I was to have Amy's friendship the door opened with a bang and Les and Bobby came in holding their phones as though they'd shared messages with each other.

"Just like I told you," Bobby spoke first. "They're absolutely wasted."

"I'm not wasted," I defended myself drunken state.

"No," Les agreed with a grin, "But you are way past a little tipsy."

He hooked his hands under my arms and assisted me in standing while someone had the audacity to spin the room making it harder than it should have been. "That may be true, but I'm in that really happy place where I'm feeling no pain, and I'm wishing we could try out that position you suggested where my leg is up over your…"

Les cut me off by kissing me. I'd like to think it was to announce that he was taking me to the apartment on four to have his wicked way with me, but it was probably to keep me from announcing to our closest friends that we were getting rather creative in our sexual positions. When he pulled back, he had the sexiest gleam in his eye.

I clung to his shoulders to insure I didn't fall over and then looked back to Amy who was looking at Bobby like he was already naked. "Thanks for the chat," I told her.

"Maybe next time we'll get to the bottom of the mystery of why they won't let us watch them get it on," she blurted out, causing me to start laughing all over again.

Bobby and Lester exchanged worried glances, but neither asked for an explanation. They probably knew whatever it meant was something they'd be better off in the dark over.

I tried to take a few steps but nearly tripped over my own feet, or the table in front of me, I wasn't really sure which one. Les swept me into his arms and walked out of the office. "You know I want to have sex with you, right?" I tried to say it in a seductive way, but I could tell the words were slurring, and I wasn't sure it sounded like English.

His chest shook as he responded. "If you're still awake when we get to the apartment I'll let you have your wicked way with me."

"Oh goodie," I replied shutting my eyes so the movement didn't make me any dizzier. I let my head rest on his shoulder and sighed at how wonderful it felt to be in his arms. I was surprised at how dark it felt with my eyes shut but I didn't fight it. When I was with my husband fighting was rarely on my mind. Instead, I let the feeling of safety and love wash over me as my thoughts drifted away.

I could feel myself falling asleep and couldn't stop it. As my own thoughts drifted I could sense a dream beginning and was thankful I gave in. My dream mind took over and in front of me was an image of Bobby and Lester taking each other's clothes off. Obviously I wasn't going to be having sex, but at least in my dreams I could still enjoy watching somebody having fun. Oh man, I wasn't sure if my dream and reality were even close, but I could feel the smile on my face growing from the hot image my mind held.

"Sleep Beautiful," Lester whispered with a kiss to my temple. Based on the rating of this dream there was no way I was going to fight it anymore.