DISCLAIMER: I'd love to own the rights to this wonderful series, but sadly I don't.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

A Hero's Incentive
By Ann


Why me? Why did I have to be the one to answer the phone when Blair's date called asking for help? She has a spat with her boyfriend, and I have to drop everything to go and get her. I should have marched downstairs and told Mrs. G exactly what Blair had gotten herself into, but I could never rat anyone out, not even Blair.

So here I am in my jeans and leather jacket driving my motorcycle up to the entrance of the most exclusive country club in the area. I'll be lucky if I'm not hauled off in handcuffs solely because of my appearance. All I know is Blair had better be outside waiting for me.

The valet parking guys give me a few dirty looks as I slowly drive to the front doors of the establishment. I spot Blair immediately, and she runs toward my bike. This has to be something more than just a spat; Blair never runs.

When she gets closer, I note her tear stained face and her torn dress. Okay, somebody is about to get his ass kicked. No one and I mean no one lays a hand on Blair Warner.

I stop my bike and step off as Blair races into my arms. Holding her near, I try to comfort her as I shoot daggers at the valet guys and the doorman. Each of them puts their hands in their pockets and stares down at the ground avoiding my death glare

If any of them had anything to do with hurting Blair or even if they are covering for someone else, I'm going to kick their ass as well.

As I release Blair and take a step in their direction, I am stopped by soft plea.

"Please Jo, just take me home."

Every muscle in my body is aching to pulverize someone, but Blair comes first, and I need to get her home. I give the men another look of doom before turning back and helping Blair onto the bike.

Good thing she is wearing a full skirt or we may have had a big problem. I don't think riding side-saddle on a motorcycle would be very safe, and I'm already not happy that she'll be riding without the helmet I stupidly forgot to bring.

The bike doesn't allow much conversation, but Blair is apparently still upset as she clings tightly to me. Every now and then I pat her hand to try to reassure her, and she finally relaxes enough to loosen her grip and lay her head against my shoulder.

We slowly pull into the drive, and I shut off the motor so we can glide into the garage. Mrs. G really gets pissed if I wait until I'm in the garage before killing the engine. I think the reverberation must vibrate the walls of her bedroom or something.

I come to a complete stop and put my feet down on the ground so that Blair can climb off, but evidently she has no intention of letting me go anytime soon. I think I'm going to stand here and enjoy every second of this closeness because I'm sure I won't have this opportunity again anytime soon.

After several minutes of silence, I finally ask, "Blair, what happened at the club?"

She doesn't answer, but instead increases her grip on me. It takes everything I have not to turn her around and hold her close, but something tells me I need to treat her with kid gloves until she is able to tell me what transpired.

Over my shoulder, a soft voice replies, "John and I met a friend of his at the club for dinner. His name was George, and he was so nice and such a gentleman. I know how you're always telling me to be careful who I flirt with, but I didn't realize what you meant until tonight."

If she means what I think she means, I'm going to turn this George guy into a Georgette if I ever cross paths with him.

"What did he do?" I ask in the most controlled voice that I am able to manage under the circumstances.

Blair hesitates and then answers, "He must have followed me when I went to the ladies room, and he pushed his way in right behind me. I was so shocked and surprised that I didn't even react when he pushed me against the wall."

Sniffling, she cries, "Oh, Jo. It was horrible. He stuck his tongue in my mouth and tried to grope me, but I somehow came to my senses and tried to pull away and that's when my dressed got ripped. I didn't know what to do. He was so strong."

I can only pat Blair's hand in sympathy while I find a bit of satisfaction in imagining myself ripping this guy's dick off. Frustrated, I decide to forego this slow motion business as I step off the bike and pull Blair into my arms once again whispering that I'll never let anyone hurt her and that she's safe now.

"Thanks to you," are the next words out of her mouth, and I suddenly feel very proud of myself for coming to the aid of my princess riding my own version of a white stallion.

"If you hadn't showed me that trick about kneeing a guy in the bal … um, privates, I may have never gotten away," Blair offers next.

Oh, I thought she meant me coming to her rescue. Well, I don't care what she meant as long as she's safe, but there is one thing that is still bothering me.

"Um, Blair? How come John didn't at least stay outside with you after he called for me to come get you?"

Hugging me closer, Blair replies, "I told him I didn't want to have anything to do with him ever again. He should have known what kind of animal George was. I instructed him to call you and then get lost."

Before I can respond, Blair asks, "How come guys can't be like you, Jo? You'd never allow a friend to mistreat your date, and if they did, they wouldn't be your friend anymore. I saw John walk out the back of the club with George as if nothing had happened."

You bet your sweet bippy I wouldn't be friends with them anymore especially since I would more than likely pummel them senseless.

Shrugging my shoulders, I offer a sad smile as I take Blair's hand to lead her toward the back door of our house. I'm pretty sure I can sneak us upstairs without anyone else noticing, and there's no need for the others to know what transpired tonight.

Besides, I promised Blair I wouldn't tell another soul, and I swore it would just stay between us girls.

As we make our way up the stairs, I can't help but reflect on why Blair chose to compare guys to me earlier. Why would a guy be like me anyway? I don't think I look anything like a guy.

We make it to the door of our room without running into any of the others so I think we are home free. I walk Blair to her bed and have her sit on the edge while I remove her shoes, but before I can suggest that she change into her pajamas, she has laid back on the bed.

"Jo, will you lie down with me? You make me feel safe," Blair whispers as she looks at me with those big soulful eyes.

Without a word, I slip off my shoes and climb onto the bed beside her. Blair immediately turns facing away from me as I spoon her from behind, and suddenly all is right with the world.

As I hold Blair in my arms, I begin to wonder if she would be interested in me if I was a guy, but the reality of the impossible eventually sets in, and I abandon the ridiculous idea.

But like a dog with a bone, I can't seem to totally discard the notion. Hm, maybe if I had a boy-like appearance she might take notice. Now THAT would be a huge incentive. You know, I could look just like a boy if I put my mind to it.

The End

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