For disclaimers please see MYSTI: Mistress of Dreams - Part One of Mad Max can be found HERE.For disclaimers please see MYSTI: Mistress of Dreams - Part One of Mad Max can be found HERE.
Part 3
"Pardon the interruption, Gillian." The speaker on the artist’s desk called out.
"Yes?" Gillian called out from across the room where she worked on a new sketch.
The secretary grinned as she lowered her voice just a tad. "Tall, dark and sexy is early. Shall I let her in or send her down to the cafeteria for a while?"
One sleek, dark brow lifted above crystal blue eyes.
Gillian put down her pencil and laughed. "No, that’s okay. Don’t send her down there. It’s coffee break time in the steno pool and I can’t take the competition."
Before the door could open fully, Max snorted and chuckled deeply. "My ass, she can’t take the competition." Standing as the blonde pulled the heavy door back, the tall brunette smoothed her slacks and licked her lips. "Baby, when it comes to you, there ain’t no competition."
Taking her wife’s strong hand, Gillian winked at her secretary. "See why I keep her? She’s very good for my ego and really has a way with words, too."
Returning to her typing, "Oh yeah. Definitely a keeper, that one. Shall I save these till tomorrow? Nothing pressing and you don’t have any more appointments. It’s only forty minutes, after all." Nancy had only just been moved into the artist’s office but already she liked the hard working perfectionist.
Max leaned down to kiss a tender lobe and whisper in her wife’s ear. "Oh, she is gonna work out just fine. I think I like the way she thinks."
"Maxine! Anyone could walk in that door." Emerald eyes pretended to be both surprised and serious.
"Right you are," agreed waggling brows. "We better get into your office with that nice leather sofa, huh?"
"Good Lord!" Gillian snatched the wandering hand. "I guess we better get you home before..."
The outer door swung open and in walked trouble, carrying a fake leather brief case and wearing a ten-cent smile.
The investigator stood to her full height as every muscle in her body flexed unconsciously. The artist winced as her small hand was caught in the effects of the rising rage within her lover.
Setting herself down on the corner of the secretary’s desk the bubbly publisher began chattering away. "Afternoon, Gillian. How are you dear? How is Max? You must be new," she looked briefly at the secretary before continuing. "Just a few little things to copy and thought I would do it in here. You don’t mind. It is always so crowded down the hall. Can I peek in at the new sketches when I’m done, dear? Oh, I knew you wouldn’t mind. I do so love to see your work. You are so gifted, Gillian. If I ever get things going I would love to have you do another cover for me. How is the investigating business, Max?"
The blonde could almost see steam coming off the brunette and silently prayed no real damage was being done to her now throbbing hand. She knew that whatever Max was upset about would be much worse if she learned she had somehow harmed her soulmate. It would make no difference to the tall protector that it had been an accident. None whatever.
Gillian did the only thing she could think to do at the moment. She stepped right into Max, startling her enough to catch the attention of perfect blue eyes. Max released the small hand immediately.
"Gillian! Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry." Then she turned to the visiting publisher with a look in her eyes that made Nancy’s blood run cold. "This is your fault, you two faced, lying, using, Judas Iscariot."
Martha froze in her tracks. Dark brown eyes opened wide with shock and confusion. At least, that is the way it looked to Gillian and Nancy. To Max, it looked like a cat burglar when the floodlights come on just as the alarm sounds.
"Max!" The small artist pleaded. "What in the world are you talking about?"
Blue chips pinned Martha to the piece of expensive East Indian rug she stood upon. "Yes, Max. Whatever are you talking about? Have I upset you in some way, honey? Because it surely was not my intention, sweetie."
Nearly six feet of pure, unadulterated rage stepped into the publisher’s personal space. "I am most certainly NOT your Honey or your Sweetie so unless you have a death wish, don’t ever talk to me that way again." Max thought a moment. "*Or* my wife either, you bitch!"
Stumbling for words that would not make things worse, the older woman tried again. "I apologize Max. I meant no disrespect. Whatever it is you think I have done, I..."
"Think! Whatever I think you have done? Not a chance, lady. I fucking know what you have done and as soon as I have some time alone with Gillian she’ll know too."
Gillian was scared now. She had never seen her wife quite this angry before - with anyone. "Max, honey, that’s a good idea. Why don’t we go on home now and you can tell me what it is you are so furious about? I’m sure whatever Martha did was unintentional, Sweetheart." The artist was gently stroking the tall beauty’s arm as she spoke in a calm, deliberate fashion.
Max turned her glare from Martha and looked at the woman who held her very soul. The visible and almost immediate softening in the baby blues touched even Nancy. Drawing in a slow, deep breath Max felt love pull her lips into a smile as she gazed into emerald pools.
"OK. She gets to live. This time. But only because I love you far more than I hate her." Max gently lifted the small hand to her lips and kissed it. "Sorry I hurt you, Gillian. It will never happen again. Never."
Gillian looked up with a look in her eyes Martha and Nancy both would have killed to experience in any lifetime at all. "I love you, Max. Can we just go home for now? I’ll cook us some dinner, put a tape in the VCR and I bet I can take your mind off whatever is upsetting you. Maybe?"
"Oh gods," moaned the brunette. "No maybes about it. I’m all yours, my love. You," She sneered at Martha one last time, "might wanna up your life insurance tonight."
As Gillian and Max walked toward the door, Martha just had to yammer some more. She shook her graying head and mumbled to Nancy: "What in heaven’s name was that all about?"
That did it! Max stopped, swallowed and took another deep breath. Without even turning around, she answered the publisher. "Yes, what in heaven’s name indeed. Honda Heaven."
Gillian looked up questioningly. Max kissed the blonde tresses and they boarded the elevator.
Martha looked at Nancy and thought what she dared not say aloud. ‘Oh my god.’ But it was going to take a little more than a silent prayer to get her out of this one. She could not remember ever seeing Max that mad before. There was very good reason for that. Max had never BEEN this mad before. The publisher trembled inside hoping she was wrong, all the while knowing she was right. Max was mad and she knew why. God save her, she knew why.
Nancy shivered. "Martha, are you all right? Jesus, woman. You look like you just saw a ghost or something."
"Worse," whispered the publisher. "Much worse."
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