Samantha stretched out her limbs, smiling happily as the warm softness of the enormous bed with its silken sheets and thick, fluffy pillows embraced her with a warm contentment that rivaled the splendor of a night in Erika's arms. Opening her eyes, the soft light of the late morning sun filtered in through the wide windows, and a warm, fragrant breeze wafted in from outside. Glancing a warily about the room as her fingers reached out, soon finding the bed all but empty, Samantha frowned thoughtfully as she found Erika sitting at her dressing table. "You should have woke me," the woman said quietly, causing a small smile to cross Erika's lips as she brushed out her short dark hair. "You had a busy night, dearest," her mentor replied, glancing up at her in the mirror and causing Samantha to blush, "Besides, I could not bring myself to disturb the natural beauty of your slumber for my simple selfish desires." "But I enjoy fulfilling your desires, my Lady," Samantha teased, slipping from the warmth of the bed, trailing one of the diamphus<sp?> white bed sheets behind her naked body like a long silken cloak. Erika closed her eyes, sighing gently and relaxing completely as her apprentice's fingers touched her shoulders, pressing against them lovingly before tracing a short distance down her back. "Oh, Samantha," moaned Erika softly, tilting her head to one side to accept a soft kiss upon her neck, "no one does that quite like you." "Only the best for you my Lady," promised Samantha, her fingers pushing up the thin, pale green silk of Erika's nightgown. "I told you to call me Erika," the woman sighed, shivering as Samantha's teeth dragged slowly across her skin, nipping her neck teasingly before her apprentice's lips kissed their way slowly up to her ear. "But I like calling you that," whispered Samantha, the tip of her tongue tracing the line of Erika's ear lobe, causing the woman to set down the hairbrush all too firmly before reaching back to take Samantha's hands. "You're not my slave," the Gym Leader chuckled, eliciting a small shiver from her apprentice, who gave her ear a gentle nibble before noticing the small glowing monitor on the table. "No, but I enjoy serving you nonetheless," Samantha replied, kissing Erika just behind the ear before leaning closer to observe the image on the tiny black and white screen. "I had two of the girl's take our guest in for a complete makeover," said Erika softly, tilting her head back as Samantha's kisses followed the curve of her neck before reaching the woman's chin, "I thought she could use the pick-me-up after the rough night she had." "An amusing girl," Samantha commented, picking up the discarded hairbrush before standing straighter and pushing her fingers up through Erika's dark hair to tilt the woman's head forward, "But what's this about her having a bad night?" "Nightmares," Erika said softly, her mysterious emerald eyes opening slightly as she looked up at the little screen through her midnight black bangs, "she tossed and turned all night. That's why I had her woken up early and pampered so." "She's something of a troubled girl, isn't she?" inquired Samantha half-rhetorically, pushing her mentor's hair forward off her neck with both hands, for a moment idly admiring both the soft, vibrant strands of pure midnight as well as the tempting curve of Erika's neck. "I was wrong in thinking she was simply a tomboy," the woman said sadly, sighing contentedly as Samantha's lips lightly touched the nape of back neck. "I've seen you handle those before," Samantha pondered, brushing Erika's hair back and brushing it out at last, "Hm. This girl really does need our help, doesn't she?" Erika nodded thoughtfully. "Definitely," the Gym Leader pronounced firmly, "So after breakfast let's take her shopping!" *** Downstairs in a large, sunlit room, what seemed like a veritable army of young women all but swarmed around Miranda as she leaned back in a comfortable reclining chair, designed specifically for the situation the courier now found herself in. As one lifted her head and brushed recently cleaned her long dark hair over the edge of the headrest, two others snatched up Miranda's hands and began the process of manicuring her chipped, uneven nails. But as two others advanced upon her naked feet, the courier's eyes widened and she gulped down her sudden sense of dread. "Um, this really isn't necessary," she stammered, receiving only amused smiles in reply as the two girls bravely set to work upon her recently washed feet, "Besides, I- I really don't think I'm meant to be this feminine!" "More tea, Miss?" was her only reply as yet another of Erika's kimono-clad assistants appeared from seemingly nowhere with a freshly brewed pot. "No, it's- it's okay," the courier replied, wincing as the girl behind her yanked out a knot of hair a little too harshly and quickly apologized, "But, what I would really like are my old clothes back." "They're still in the laundry I'm afraid," responded the one on Miranda's right hand, filing down her nails and blowing away the tiny fragments. "Besides," added the one on the left, "You're much too pretty to wear such boring old clothes." Miranda blushed, closing her eyes and trying not to think of the number of times she'd heard that since leaving her room accompanied by the two who'd been there when she'd woken up. The girls had insisted that Miranda wear the same purple and black kimono she borrowed the day before, and even now her sense of dread was building as a middle-aged woman with a warm smile and gentle hands used Miranda's measurements for one of the courier's own. After what felt like an eternity of nail filing, measurement taking and having the girl combing out Miranda's hair leave with her arm in a sling, the group crowding around the courier finally let up and gave her a moment to breathe. For a time, Miranda simply lied still, her skin tingling from all the attention, despite the fact that she'd finally managed to calm the embarrassed feeling it had all given her. 'I hope my Mother never finds out about this,' the courier mused, smiling at the woman sunlight that shined in through the large windows to warm her, 'she might expect me to start acting like a girl or something!' Sometime later, Miranda's ears caught the ever so slight sound of rustling fabric pierce the still quiet of the room. Listening carefully, the girl frowned a little, trying to perceive just what it was she had heard, only to suddenly feel a soft, warm hand upon her forehead. "Feeling better?" came Erika's quiet tone, the woman's voice almost a whisper as Miranda jumped a little in surprise. "I- I've been worse," the courier admitted a little shyly. "Good, good," her hostess replied in a more pleased tone, "I was told that you had a fretful night, so I thought I'd show you as much hospitality as possible." Miranda sighed heavily, nodding as she recalled the dreams. "I have these dreams a few nights a week," the girl replied warily; turning her head to stare out the window, out over the sprawling sea of flowers, "The same hazy images." "Would it be inappropriate to inquire?" said Erika diplomatically, her small, delicate seeming hands resting upon the arm of the chair. The courier shrugged. "I wasn't there when my Father died," Miranda explained, her averted gaze missing the subtle change in Erika's expression to one of dismay, "But from what little I was told, and the images my mind has conjured up, it's almost like being there sometimes." "Your nightmares are of his death then," the woman said said rhetorically, her tone careful. "Not always," Miranda replied, turning back to look up into the sea of emerald that made up Erika's calm, all knowing eyes, "Sometimes I just see him. I talk to him for a while, and then something will happen and he's always taken away from me before I can tell him I love and miss him. I dunno... I guess I'm just being obsessive." "No," said Erika, her voice soft and soothing as her hand touched Miranda's shoulder, "You just miss him. He was taken from your life by forces beyond your control, and it makes you feel helpless." "Always the student of human nature?" inquired Miranda with a small smile. Erika shrugged. "I can't help it," she confessed, "I've spent a long time observing life, and studying the subtleties of human communication. Sometimes you can say more with a look than you can with a thousand words." Miranda smiled, shaking her head thoughtfully. "If it weren't for words I think I'd have been institutionalized by now," the courier replied mirthfully, causing Erika to give her a subtly concerned look. "Oh?" she inquired, "Do tell." Miranda gave her a curious look for a moment and smiled. "In my backpack," she explained with a newfound respect for the woman, "You'll find a large, hard-bound book with claw marks scratched into its black cover. To be honest, though, I'm a little surprised you didn't find it on your own." Erika shook her head, her tone serious. "As much as I prefer to keep myself appraised of what goes on in my Gym," the woman explained, "your personal belongings are not mine to pursue, dear." "I appreciate that," Miranda replied, patting the hand that touched her shoulder lightly before sitting up and feeling a little lightheaded, her hair indeed longer, even with its split ends snipped off, but having been washed three times that day, it felt surprisingly lighter than normal. "They got all the tangles out, I see," her hostess commented, the woman running her fingers through the dark silky locks and smiling to herself. "They did?" came Miranda's surprised exclamation, reaching back with both hands to run her fingers through it, surprised to find that they could fall easily through her wavy locks without getting caught up, "Oh my... I hope that girl who sprained her wrist brushing it out will be okay." Erika nodded. "It'll be good practice for her," she assured, "Now, then. Would you mind if I took a look at your book?" "It's just poetry," Miranda responded with a dismissive shrug. "But they're your words," insisted Erika, "They're your thoughts. Your feelings, and as you say, your way of staying sane after so much has happened in your life." The courier nodded slowly, pondering for a moment. "There's at least one for every major emotional event in my life," Miranda explained, her gaze distant as Erika touched Miranda's hand lightly, "There's a few in there that I'd like to tear out, but I suppose that'd be too much like denying my mistakes. It's better that I live with them." "And learn from them." "If you'd like, there's quite a few I'd be willing to give you copies of," Miranda offered, suddenly sitting up and slipping out of the chair. The woman smiled, taking a single graceful step backwards, her deep emerald eyes thoughtful as the courier brushed out her kimono. "Actually, I was hoping that you'd consent to reading one aloud to some of my students." Miranda blinked, her hands shaking a little as she stared at her hostess in disbelief. "You- you mean in front of an audience?" the girl stammered. Erika nodded, holding out her hands to take the courier's with a gentle, reassuring smile. "One of the things I teach here are various styles of poetry," she explained, slowly stepping backwards and leading Miranda away from the chair, "as well as public speaking. I'd be curious to see what you could teach my students." The courier glanced away nervously, her pale cheeks reddening at the thought. "But you don't even know if I'm any good," she replied, "For all you know my poetry's just a collection of adolescent angst ranting-" Erika silenced her by placing a single finger against Miranda's lips. "Shhh," she chuckled, her mysterious eyes once again looking deeply into the depths of the girl's soul, "I can see the weight of your emotions weighing heavily upon you, deary. And I've listened to the way in which you articulate your words. If you write as I know you do, pouring out your heart into that book of yours, then your poetry must be as beautiful as your nightmares are terrifying." Miranda closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she nodded. "Is there anything in particular you'd like me to read about?" she inquired softly. Erika stopped, releasing the courier's hands and letting Miranda step into her arms. "Something sad, something beautiful, something thoughtful, something about you." Miranda smiled, letting herself be drawn against the softness that was Erika and finding comfort in the woman's arms. "I'll have to go through and find something good then," she promised, resting her head on Erika's shoulder as the woman's fingers moved affectionately up and down her back. "Which ever you thing sums up your feelings as of late would be best," the Gym Leader requested, "I'd like to show the students an examples of a more heart felt work. Most of the recent authors seem to have written for profit as opposed to appeasing their muses. It would be a pleasant surprise for them to hear something by a true author." "Stop it," breathed Miranda, holding Erika so tightly she half-worried that she'd crush the woman in her arms, her face feeling as though it were on fire with embarrassment, "I- I'm not that good." "That's what I intend to discern," Erika replied thoughtfully, her smile as mysterious as ever...
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