By Liz Estrada
Author: Liz_Estrada (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Fandom: Ally McBeal
Rating: PG, just for the adult dialogue
Spoilers: Absolutely none
Summary: The ladies of the Cage and Fish law firm talk
about fantasies, and a certain redhead's name keeps popping up.
The law firm of Cage and Fish was nearly deserted as
another cold, windy night swallowed Boston whole. Most employees had
left early, heading home through the snow, or at least finding a warm
nook at the downstairs bar where they could drink away the evening to
the sounds of a perfectly serviceable, ubiquitous cover band. However,
four very particular women had opted to gather coven-like on the floor
of the C&F conference room and keep their celebration private.
"Who wants more wine?" asked a bubbly,
curly-haired blonde, offering around the enormous bottle of white
zinfandel. Elaine, the firm's one-woman grapevine had somehow gained
charge of the actual grapes, and she doled out glasses with generous
aplomb to the other three ladies.
"Don't you people keep anything hard on
the premises?" asked Renee, a buxom, dark-skinned beauty who didn't
seem impressed by the firm's liquor cabinet. "This stuff tastes
like Hi-C to me, baby."
"Renee, stop bitching. At least it's free,"
asserted her roomie, a whippet-thin, doe-eyed popsicle stick named Ally
"Here, here!" agreed the fourth zinfandel
drinker, the one who was obviously closest to actual inebriation.
Georgia ran one hand through her short blonde locks, nearly maudlin
enough to complain for the hundredth time about shearing her long hair,
belatedly concerned that it was a key ingredient to her
California/Melrose Place beauty.
"To the victors go the spoils!" Elaine
toasted, raising her glass to Georgia and Ally, letting everyone engage
in another group-clink.
"All I can say is you are some lucky, lucky
chickens," Renee announced. "That case shouldn't have gone
anywhere but Jerry Springer, and you bring in a fat-ass
"Luck had nothing to do with it," Ally
replied. "We were in the right. The network had no call to fire
that woman simply based on rumors about her sexual preference."
"Here, here!" Georgia agreed, already
looking at the bottom of another empty wine glass.
"I agree with Ally. Who a person sleeps with is
no one else's business," Elaine improbably told them, drawing
incredulous stares from everyone. "Okay, okay. So I talk a little,
but never about anything that could get someone fired, for
"I don't know how wrong they were," Renee
began, "I mean, she is a sex symbol - of sorts - and a whole mess
of men are all busted up over her being unavailable now, you
"That isn't her problem, or her
responsibility," Ally argued. "She did her job so well that
for six years no one suspected she wasn't lusting after her
brooding, bohunk leading man."
"I always thought there was some subtext between
her and that iceberg blonde in the trench coat," Elaine added
mischievously. "Too much animosity there to be platonic."
"No way!" Renee exclaimed, suppressing a
shudder. "Sub-Zero Nelle had more going on than that chick. She
looked frigid to me."
"Great legs, though," Georgia contributed
quietly, waving her glass for a refill.
The group seemed nonplussed by the demure woman's
observation - all but Elaine, who grinned at her, poured another shot of
wine, then did what she did best. "You noticed that, too, huh? I
always thought there was a hot tamale hiding under that coat. If only
the producers had the balls to cook with spices, eh Georgia?"
"Here, here!" the blonde agreed, now with 2
and 1/2 sheets in the wind. "If she was gonna get it on with anyone
on the show, it would've been little miss Icy Hot."
"Georgia," Renee purred, ever on the prowl
for a way to embarrass the woman who married Ally's truest, most vanilla
love. "It sounds like you've given this some serious thought."
"A little," she admitted candidly.
"It's like that game you play in high school, you know? 'If you had
to pick so-and-so to do blah-blah-blah, who would you choose?' I think
she'd pick her, that's all."
"Oh really?" Elaine joined in, sharing
Renee's penchant for Georgia-torture. "And who would you
"Elaine, Renee, both of you... behave?" Ally
warned unsteadily, alarmed that she was coming off as the mature one in
"Real or fictional?" Georgia asked gamely,
causing the two imps to look to each other before pushing ahead with the
"Either," Elaine generously allowed,
"but be honest. If you were gonna bed down for the night with a
woman, who would it be?"
Ally covered her eyes, her lank hair draping over her
face to shield her from this discussion. Renee and Elaine, conversely,
leaned closer to the only married woman in the crew, eagerly awaiting
her answer. After a few long moments of thought, Georgia calmly
enunciated one word. "Xena."
"Georgia!" the other three cried out simultaneously, each
shocked at her choosing the Warrior Princess as her sapphic fantasy.
"It's that whole 'dark past' thing, isn't
it?" Elaine asked, eager to keep her talking until she got to the
"No, no," Renee chimed in, "I bet it's
her legs. We've already established that Georgia here is a leg
"Georgia, you don't have to answer them,"
Ally said, frowning as sternly as she could manage... in light of the
fact that she was now curious, too.
The beleaguered attorney held up one arm and wiggled
her fingers, letting them flutter and blur in her compromised vision.
"Hands. She has really nice hands. I bet she'd be very gentle,
"Alalalalalalalala!" Elaine yelled,
mimicking the famed battle cry.
Renee rolled on the floor, cackling like a crazed
turkey, and Ally blushed eight separate shades of red.
"I really believe she would," Georgia
insisted softly. "If gentle was what I wanted, I mean."
Another chorus of whoops and hollers erupted from the
two revelers, causing Georgia to sober just enough to be embarrassed.
That was about all poor, empathetic Ally could stomach.
"I can top that," she announced loudly,
trying to get the group's full attention. It worked like a charm, making
both unruly parties hush up and look to her with anticipation.
"I always... kind of... well, just in the context
of fantasy... "
"Spit it out, Ally!" Elaine ordered.
"Come on, girl!" Renee encouraged.
"Here, here!" Georgia cried, quite anxious
to be rid of their attentions.
Ally was a deer caught in three sets of high-beams,
eyes wider than normal, heart beating in her throat, frozen as she
stammered out her answer.
"Whoa!" "Good choice, Al!"
"From the X-Files, you mope!" Elaine
explained loudly, swatting Georgia on the shoulder. "The redhead
with the funny little smile."
"Oh. OH! Okay, I gotcha," she slurred,
draining her glass yet again.
Renee grinned cheekily at her roomie, secretly vowing
to watch Ally's face more closely on Sunday nights at nine. "So why
"The eyes," Elaine theorized, "Scully
has such sincere eyes."
"Mo-URP-uth," Georgia burped. "Sorry.
She has nice lips."
"Well, Ally would know better than us,"
Renee teased. "Spill it. Is it the mouth? Or the fact that you
wouldn't seem like such a space cadet to someone who's been
cheek-to-jowl with real aliens?"
"Shut-it, Renee," Ally griped, wishing she
had just stayed safely on the sidelines. "As it happens, I think
it's her brain."
"Oh, stop!" "That's a rotten
"The brain is the most important sexual
organ," Ally indignantly insisted. "She is beautiful,
but so are a lot of other women. When it comes to choosing a partner,
I'd rather have someone able to talk to me."
"You mean listen to you, don't you?"
Georgia tossed out blearily.
"Ingrate," Ally hissed at her. "I mean
it. She's a doctor, right? So she probably knows a lot of... stuff.
About anatomy. Like... where things are. What feels good."
"Now that's a better answer," Renee
agreed, nodding her head.
"I concur," Elaine added, sighing dreamily
as her eyes fluttered shut. "I bet the enigmatic Dr. Scully knows
where everything is."
"You picked her, Ally. Doesn't mean I can't borrow
her for a minute."
"Here, here!" Georgia toasted, waving her
Ally felt oddly jealous that the cheeky secretary had
co-opted her fantasy, but she knew in her heart that it wouldn't matter
come Sunday night at nine. She'd just have to watch herself more
carefully if Renee was home.
"So, Elainus-interruptus," Renee opened,
picking a new target from the dwindling stock, "who among the
distaff set lights your fire?"
"Oh, that's easy," the loquacious blonde
replied, waving a hand at the weak challenge to her imagination. She
closed her eyes again and assumed an expression of concentration.
"Just wait a second while Agent Scully uncuffs me from the
"Elaine!" Ally squealed, kicking out with
one bare foot at the nosy little thief's knee.
She giggled delightedly as she fixed Ally with a
sultry stare and rubbed at imaginary chafe marks on her wrists.
"Turns out Scully knows where everything is except the keys
to those cuffs."
"You stink," Ally complained. "Now
answer the question - and no more borrowing from my
"No problem. I wouldn't mind sharing a holosuite
with Seven of Nine," she admitted bluntly, utterly unashamed.
"Ugghh!" "That robot woman?"
Elaine again administered a rap to Georgia's shoulder
as punishment for her lapses in pop culture knowledge. "The tall
blonde from the new Star Trek show - the one with the whoozywhatsit
around her eye?"
"Oh. OH! Okay, I gotcha," Georgia repeated,
licking the rim of her glass.
"Baby, that's just plain out weird," Renee
protested. "She's got all that metal shit all over her."
"I actually find that attractive," Elaine
explained. "It's like she's always accessorized perfectly."
"What if she's got some kinda plate over her
cootchy?" the dark woman asked, flinching in sympathy with Seven's
"I could work with that. I'm very mechanically
inclined," Elaine grinned.
"It isn't the metal that bothers me," Ally
spoke up, "It's her manner - she's so cold and clinical
"Frigid," Renee agreed, nodding again.
"Seven has the assimilated knowledge of thousands
of species swimming around in that lovely head. Don't you think she
knows a little something about cross-species mating techniques?"
Elaine offered saucily.
Ally and Renee exchanged a glance, silently conferring
with cocked eyebrows and frowns. "No," they answered in
"Your loss," Elaine told them sadly.
"Plus, she's got a helluva rack."
"Here, here!" Georgia cheered, drinking the
dregs directly from the dead bottle of white zinfandel.
"But she's... so... something," Ally
struggled, trying to find the words. "She's like Nelle with
cyber-thingies stuck all over her. Ewww."
"Sub-Zero," Renee nodded sagely.
"Maybe I'm not as easily intimidated by chilly
temperaments as the rest of you," Elaine haughtily proclaimed.
"I happen to find them challenging."
"Whatever," Renee said, waving her off.
"Is it my turn now?"
"God, yes," Ally enthused. "It's about
time, too. This was your idea."
"I ain't afraid of you!" Renee told the
group, bobbing her head like a sista on the rampage. "You want to
hear it, you got it - none other than the mightiest black woman I've
ever seen, Miss Grace Jones."
"Oooh!" "Renee?" "Who?"
This time, Elaine took away both the glass and the
empty bottle before smacking Georgia on the shoulder. "You know,
the 70's disco diva, the black queen of Studio 54! Demo-li-tion Maaan!"
Elaine crooned, surprising all with her eerily Jones-like impression.
"Oh. OH! Okay, I gotcha," Georgia said, and
promptly passed out cold on the carpet, one hand clutching for her
absent wine glass.
"She was fierce!" Renee followed up,
shimmying her shoulders.
"But she's so... so..." Not surprisingly,
Ally couldn't find the words.
"Scary?" Elaine offered.
"I dig that," Renee said simply. "She
was one of the first totally cool black women I ever saw, the kind who
did her own thing and never gave a damn what nobody said about
"But idolizing someone isn't the same thing as...
desiring them," Ally protested.
"I hung out backstage at the Roxy one weekend
just to get a look at her," Renee revealed. "I don't know what
I was looking for, but I did see her, and when Miss Grace Jones smiled
at me - MMM! I was walking on air for months. I mean, I thought I was
the shits, honey."
Ally pursed her lips, eyebrows knit in thought.
"To each her own, I guess."
"The question is," Elaine said suddenly,
"if you had the chance to make it real, would you?"
The three conscious women eyed each other skeptically,
none wanting to be the first to answer. Georgia moaned sleepily on the
carpet, smiling as a name fell from her lips.
"Dammit!" Ally exclaimed, jumping to her
feet. "Why is everybody mooching my fantasy! This isn't fair!"
After nearly a solid minute of laughter at Ally's
expense, Renee and Elaine calmed down and began gathering their things.
"I'll call down to the bar and tell Billy to come
scrape his wife off the floor," Elaine volunteered.
"I need to go potty," Renee announced, and
flounced off to utilize the firm's unisex toilet.
Ally stood alone in the conference room, trying to
ignore Georgia's continued exhortations to her red-haired federal
agent. She huffed a bit, shook it off, and stepped out into the
reception area... where a barefoot John Cage paced around a brick
pillar, digging his toes into the carpet.
"John?" Ally called out softly, hoping
against hope that he hadn't been eavesdropping through the open
conference room door. "How long have you been out here?"
The Biscuit stopped pacing, steepled his fingers, and
muttered something that sounded vaguely like 'Poughkeepsie' before
fixing Ally with a thoughtful frown.
"This discussion troubles me," he said, then
continued pacing, struggling in vain to get images of a certain
redheaded FBI agent out of his head.
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