Grrl Talk 
By Liz Estrada

************

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 McBeal.

"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 settlement."

"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 heaven's sake."

"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 know?"

"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 pick?"

"Elaine, Renee, both of you... behave?" Ally warned unsteadily, alarmed that she was coming off as the mature one in the group.

"Real or fictional?" Georgia asked gamely, causing the two imps to look to each other before pushing ahead with the game.

"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."

"AHHHH!" "Shit!" "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 good stuff.

"No, no," Renee chimed in, "I bet it's her legs. We've already established that Georgia here is a leg woman."

"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, actually."

"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.

"Da-agen-Dana Scully."

"Whoa!" "Good choice, Al!" "Who?"

"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 her, sweetie?"

"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 answer!" "Brain?"

"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."

"Elaine!"

"You picked her, Ally. Doesn't mean I can't borrow her for a minute."

"Here, here!" Georgia toasted, waving her empty glass.

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 headboard."

"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 fantasies."

"No problem. I wouldn't mind sharing a holosuite with Seven of Nine," she admitted bluntly, utterly unashamed.

"Ugghh!" "That robot woman?" "Who?"

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 potential plight.

"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 about everything."

"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 unison.

"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.

"Exactly!"

"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 her."

"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.

"Mmmm, Scully..."

"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.

END

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