Chapter Six:  Sticks and Stones

 

Olivia threw the door open so forcefully that it rebounded behind her, slamming back into it’s frame with a rattling crash that startled the few people loitering outside of One Hogan Place.  Ignoring their surprised stares, she pushed past them without so much as an ‘excuse me’ as she slammed down the steps to the sidewalk.

 

When she reached the curb, the detective pulled herself to a stop, sucking in deep breaths of cold air that she expelled from her mouth in plumes of white steam.  Turning back, she stared up at the building, her heart aching in her chest as she tried to process what had just happened.

 

How could a situation go from wonderful to crap in so short a time?

 

Part of her, the part that had been kicked in the teeth enough in her life, wanted to say fuck it; to just wash her hands of the whole mess.  But a larger part of her could not ignore the way she had felt when she held Alex in her arms.  The way her self doubts, her fears, hell even the rest of the world, had ceased to exist.  For the first time, sex hadn’t just been sex.  For the first time, she had actually understood what everyone else was talking about.

 

Sighing, she tried to rein in her anger.  She knew Alex was scared, she just couldn’t figure out why or of what.

 

But then she was a detective, right?

 

Her phone rang and Olivia reached into her jacket, pulling it out to tap it against her forehead a few times before finally answering it.

 

“What?”  She barked.

 

“Whoa!  What crawled inside your boxers and died?”

 

She ground her teeth and counted to ten before answering.  “I don’t wear boxers.  What do you want?”

 

“Are you ok?”  She could hear the concern in Elliot’s voice and tried to drag her frustration down a notch.  “What happened?  Did Cabot chew you out or something?”

 

Olivia snorted, a bitter laugh escaping her lips.  “Something like that.”

 

“So I take it we’re not getting the warrant for Tate’s financials?”

 

“No, I got it.  She said it would be there within the hour.  Can you get the ball rolling on that?  I have to stop off at my apartment on the way back.”

 

Elliot laughed lightly.  “You always did have a way with Cabot.  From now on you get to go whenever we need anything.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.  Can you cover for me?”

 

“Sure, but what’s at your apartment?”

 

“My common sense?”  She sighed.  “I just got too close to the curb and a cabbie decided to give me a bath.  I need a shower and some dry clothes.  I’ll be back at the precinct within the hour, okay?”

 

“Yeah, sure.  I’ll see you then partner.”

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

Olivia stepped out of the shower, using a towel to dry her hair before wrapping it around her torso.  She pulled open her medicine cabinet and dipped her fingers into a jar of gel on the bottom shelf.  Closing the mirror, she leaned in close as she tumbled her brown locks between her fingers, scowling at herself for a moment before stepping back.  When she did, her eyes grew wide as she took in the pale purple bruises scattered across her shoulders.

 

Reaching up, she touched them gently, surprised that she had marked at all; usually her skin coloring hid that sort of thing.  For them to show, Alex’s grip would have to have been intense.

 

Swallowing, she closed her eyes as memories of that afternoon flashed through her mind.  Alex’s hands in her hair, wrapped around her shoulders… digging into her back.  She opened her eyes and stared at herself as she remembered the taste of blood on the blonde’s tongue.  She gently pulled at her lower lip, wincing when she saw the angry red line of the cut that had been reopened when Alex bit her.  She hadn’t felt it at the time; she had been busy feeling too many other things.  But now that she was aware of it, it stung like a bitch and she knew it would drive her crazy. 

 

Not just because of the pain, but because it would make her think about what she had shared with the beautiful young lawyer who now seemed to want nothing to do with her.

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

“Liv!”  Elliot grinned at his partner as she walked into the observation room.  “Jackpot!”

 

“DNA match?”  She asked in disbelief.

 

“Well, no.”  He shook his head.  “Serra Tate was not the mystery guest in Wainscott’s bed that night.  But this is almost as good.”

 

Olivia glanced through the two way mirror and saw Serra sitting in the same position she had been in earlier.  “Has she been in there this whole time?”

 

“Huh?”  Her partner glanced at the blonde and shrugged.  “I guess so why?”

 

“Because she’s not a perp, Elliot!  She’s just a girl that found herself in a bad situation!”

 

“More than one, apparently.”

 

Olivia arched an eyebrow.  “What do you mean?”

 

He handed her a printout.  “This came over five minutes ago from First Mutual.”

 

She read over the information, a sinking feeling in her stomach when she realized what it was.  “Come on.”

 

Elliot followed her into the room, standing attentively beside Tate this time as Olivia slammed the paper down on the table in front of the startled blonde.

 

“You want to tell me what the fuck that is, Serra?”

 

“Wha…what?”  She leaned forward and glance at the printout, paling slightly.  “I can explain.”

 

“You can explain?”  Olivia rolled her eyes before dropping into a chair.  “Ok, then please explain how a hundred and fifty thousand dollar check from Preston Industries managed to find its way into your bank account a month and a half ago?”

 

Serra stared down at the statement, her mouth opening and closing as though she were trying to think of something to say.

 

“Spill it!”  Olivia ordered.  “Otherwise you’re definitely going to need that lawyer you mentioned earlier!”

 

“Samuel Wainscott.”  She whispered.

 

“What?”

 

She covered her face with her hands. “Samuel Wainscott!  He paid me off.  He gave me that money to leave Sammy.” 

 

Olivia’s forehead furrowed in confusion.  “You’re telling me that Sam Wainscott gave you a hundred and fifty thousand dollars to leave his daughter a month and half ago?  That doesn’t make any sense.”

 

“You think I don’t know that?”  Serra snapped.  “When that asshole he had following me showed up at the bookstore with the check, I thought it was some kind of trick.  I mean, why would he pay me to leave her when I already had?”  She rubbed her temples. “I figured it was just a bribe to keep me away from her; Sammy had been pretty adamant about me coming back when I first left.  Anyway, I was broke… I didn’t work while I was with her and there was no way I was going to make my tuition next year-“

 

“So you took it.”  Olivia’s lip curled in disdain.

 

Serra squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.  “I said I wasn’t a dog, detective, I didn’t say I was a fool!  Look, I know it wasn’t my best moment, but that man made us miserable every chance he got.  He belittled her and harassed me all because he thought that I had corrupted his little girl.  And no matter how many times Sammy told him that she had pursued me, he kept hanging onto the idea that I was the antichrist!  I deserved something for the hell he put us through.”  She shrugged.  “It isn’t like I broke the law.  He offered the money and I took it.  I wasn’t with Sammy anymore so it wasn’t even under false pretenses.”

 

“And that makes it ok?”  Olivia asked softly.

 

Serra stared at her for a long time before replying.  “No.  It doesn’t.  But it made it easier.”

 

The brunette sat back in her chair as she watched the young woman closely.  She knew in her gut that Serra was telling her the truth.  “Alright.” She stood up.  “You’re free to go.”

 

“What?”  Elliot and Serra both barked in disbelief. 

 

“What about the assault?”  Her partner demanded.

 

Olivia locked her eyes with Serra’s.  “I’m not pressing charges at this time.”  She pointed at her.  “But you stay local, and you let those friends of yours know that if we come looking for you and they start playing games, it’s going to land your ass right back behind bars.  Deal?”

 

Tears of relief flooded Serra’s eyes.  “Deal.”  She nodded eagerly.  “Detective?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“That woman I told you about… the one Sammy was involved with.  Who ever she is, she knows more about Sammy’s life over the last few months than I ever could.  She knows all of the dark stuff that I couldn’t stomach.  I have to live with the fact that I walked out on Sammy, probably when she needed me the most.  I couldn’t live knowing that her killer got away with it.  Find her… please.”

 

The detective looked at the young woman compassionately.  “I intend to.”

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

Saturday 06:11 PM

 

Olivia looked up at the non-descript exterior of 1655 Park West and then down at the clothes she was wearing.  She doubted her skin tight Levi’s, corded Henley and black leather jacket would make much of an impression on the doorman, but if Zoey had been telling her the truth, she had an automatic in.

 

Stepping up to the door, she almost laughed when the uniformed man raised his eyebrows at her in surprise.  His hand came up automatically and he opened his mouth to speak.

 

She didn’t give him the chance; instead she pulled the keychain from her inside coat pocket.  She allowed the ring to slide down her middle finger so that the crystal dangled in the center of her palm, creating a blood red halo as it reflected the light from overhead.

 

His whole countenance changed in an instant, going from slightly disdainful to warmly respectful in a blink of an eye.  Smiling, he opened the door for her as he bowed slightly and said, “Have a pleasant evening, ma’am.”

 

When she got to the penthouse, she was surprised by how empty it was.  Glancing at her watch she realized that it was only a little after six, still pretty early as far as the bar circuit went.  Her eyes quickly scanned through the women present, taking note of everyone and everything.

 

“She’s not here.”

 

The familiar voice made her turn towards the bar where Zoey was polishing glasses, getting ready for the Saturday night rush.  “I know.”  She nodded as she slid onto a stool.  “That’s why I am.”

 

“Ouch!” The bartender grimaced.  “I take it you’re still on the outs with the beautiful Ms. Cabot?”

 

“Not for lack of trying.  I… talked to her this afternoon.”

 

“Talked?”  Zoey gave her a knowing wink.  “So how’d that go?”

 

“Pretty well at first.”  Olivia didn’t understand why she felt comfortable talking to the younger woman, but she was grateful for her presence and her ear.  “Then I got blindsided.”  She sighed.  “Maybe… maybe I’m just barking up the wrong lesbian, you know?  Like you said, she’s got the Big Three.  What have I got?  A tiny apartment, a city wage, and a job that takes up ninety percent of my life…  I mean look at me!  The doorman wasn’t even going to let me in here until I flashed that lucky charm you gave me.”

 

“I know some other thing’s you’ve got.”

 

“What?”

 

Zoey tossed the bar rag on the counter and leaned on her arms.  “You’ve got a killer smile, incredible eyes, and you look pretty damn good in a leather jacket.”  She grinned.  “And since Cabot knew you before you came in here and still planted that kiss on you?  I’d say there’s a whole lot more to you than just the way you look.”

 

Olivia blinked.  “Why would you think that?”

 

“Velvet gets best of high society, Olivia.”  She smirked.  “The lesbian cream that rises to the top.  Cabot’s been coming here for a while; I’ve seen people approach her and I’ve watched her shoot them down.  That woman has sent back enough drinks to stock the bar for a year.  But I have never seen her look at another woman the way she looked at you.  And I have also never seen her cross the bar to talk to anyone.  For her to do that, you would have to be very special indeed.”

 

The detective shrugged, turning to hide the faint blush that crept into her cheeks. 

 

“Sexy and shy!”  Zoey chuckled.  “Something tells me I’m meeting the real Olivia now.”

 

She grinned ruefully and held out her hand.  “Detective Olivia Benson, and yes, this is the real me.  I swear too much, I laugh too loud and I live in jeans and t-shirts six days out of the week.”  She glanced around.  “Guess I’m not what you would consider your regular clientele.”

 

“Ooo a cop!”  Zoey laughed.  “I wish.”  She placed a shot glass on the bar and filled it up with Jack, nudging it towards the detective when she didn’t reach for it immediately.  “Believe it or not, this isn’t exactly what I pictured when I decided to open this place.”

 

“What did you picture?”

 

“Something simple, a little more down to earth; but then my grandmother always said that buildings have souls of their own.  I may own it; I may have designed the layouts, but the spirit… that was always here.”

 

Olivia nodded, then Zoey’s words registered and she looked up in mild shock.  “You…own the building?  The whole building?”

 

She nodded.

 

“Who the hell was your grandmother?”

 

“Ivy Merrin.”

 

“Merrin, Merrin..”  The detective racked her brain trying to make a connection.  “Never heard of her.”

 

Zoey laughed.  “Why would you?  She was a secretary.”  Her eyes sparkled as she realized what the older woman meant.  “Ahhh!  You were trying to find the royalty in my family tree.  Let me save you the trouble, there isn’t any.  My father was a truck driver and my mother was a hair stylist.”

 

Olivia blinked.  “Then how…?”

 

“A royal line has to start somewhere right?”  The bartended refilled her empty glass.  “I was an art major in college.  Ran into some luck when I was bumming around Versailles my first year out.  I found a patron who was very… appreciative of my skills.  She taught me how to paint what would sell, among other things.  I came back from Europe with some serious coin in my pocket and the even more valuable skill of being able to remain friends with my exes.”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

Zoey sighed.  “Well, when I got back, I met and fell in love with two very successful women.  First it was Natalia, plastic surgeon to New York’s elite, and then it was Francine, the investment banker with a heart. The relationships didn’t last, but the friendships did.  I showed them my business plans and they jumped at a chance to invest.  I own fifty two percent of this place, they split the difference.”

 

Olivia raised her eyebrows.  “Color me impressed!”  She downed the second shot.  “So, what do you do with the rest of the building?”

 

“The first three floors are office space; gay owned businesses mostly.  They get a good deal on rent; I get to do my part for the community and take a tax write off on the shortfall.”  She shrugged.  “The rest of the floors are cut up into studios, lofts and apartments.  Again, there are rent shortfalls but the income from the rest of the building more than makes up for it.”

 

“The rest…?”

 

“Yeah, the penthouse… and the basement.”

 

Olivia blinked.  “What’s in the basement?”

 

Zoey looked at her with a blatantly wicked expression on her face.  “Why… Hell, Detective.”

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

The elevator opened into a dimly lit hallway. Sconces lined the walls on either side and red bulbs shining up at the ceiling gave the small space a surreal quality.  Olivia could see a staircase curving up out of sight at the other end.  “Where does that go?”  She pointed.

 

“Up to the street.”  Zoey grinned.  “But we’re going this way.”  She led the detective to a large ornate iron door to their left and Olivia had to stifle a laugh when the bartender produced an elaborate skeleton key to slip into the lock.

 

“You’re joking with that key right?”

 

The blonde shrugged.  “Appearances are everything.”  The door swung open into complete darkness and Olivia reached out, placing her hand within an inch of Zoey’s back, using the younger woman’s body heat to follow closely behind her.

 

There was the sound of some kind of switch being thrown and a series of lamps lining the ceiling started to glow dully as they began to heat up.  After a few moments, Olivia was able to see clearly enough to make out the large space around her.

 

It left her speechless.

 

The basement was the same size as the Penthouse, but set up in an entirely different layout and theme.  Where Velvet was all chic and ambience, gauzy curtains and light colors, the basement was decked out in deep blues and purples, the walls were painted black, the mood lighting supplied by the dozens of wrought iron fixtures strategically scattered throughout. 

 

To one side was the main room, which had a bar made of black and gray marble, surrounded by red leather-covered stools and snooker tables with black felt and crimson colored balls.  There was also a dance floor and a small raised stage that looked like it had been well used. 

 

To the other side was a hallway made up of thick midnight blue and black drapes that hung from the ceiling on iron rails.  The same types of drapes had been used to create small private alcoves along each side, complete with either couches or beds; the back wall of each alcove was exposed brick that had been fitted with numerous iron hooks at various heights.

 

“What the hell is this?”  Olivia breathed.

 

“This?” Zoey turned in a half circle, her arms held out.  “This is Suede.”

 

“Suede?”

 

“Like I said before, if Velvet is heaven, then Suede is hell.”  She shrugged.  “This is Natalia’s baby.  Her own private little dungeon.”

 

The detective’s eyes narrowed.  “What goes on down here, Zoey?”

 

The bartender held up her hands.  “Nothing like that, detective!”  She tsked as though she were offended.  “People can bring their own toys.  The can play at bondage and domination, they can spank, tickle, tease… whatever… but NO sex.  If the bouncers catch that going on, the client is eighty-sixed permanently.”

 

Olivia turned in a circle, her mouth opening and closing slowly.  “I don’t even know what to say.  How do you get insurance for this place?”

 

“We have strict safety policies in place.  Anyone who walks down that hallway has to have reservation and a signed waiver and declaration of intent on file.  We keep good records and so far, we’ve never had a problem.”

 

“So… when you said to stick to Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays it was because…”

 

“Because the rest of the week Velvet is dark and Suede is open.  We had them both open six days a week at first, until it turned out that a lot of our clientele wanted to use both clubs, but didn’t necessarily want to be seen jumping the gates.  So we gave Suede its own street entrance and didn’t allow traffic between the two anymore.  Except of course, when someone like Alex Cabot needs an out…”  She teased.  When she didn’t get a response she waved her hand in front of the brunette’s face.  “Olivia?”

 

The detective’s demeanor had changed completely.  “I can’t believe she didn’t tell me about this.”

 

“Who?  Alex?”

 

Olivia nodded sullenly.

 

“Look, Liv,” The bartender shook her head.  “Alex didn’t really know about this place.  Suede has a pretty specific crowd and it is by invitation only. The one time I approached her about it I got as far as the word ‘leather’ and the look on her face told me in no uncertain terms that drinks with the girls was all good, but anything else was not an option.  It’s not like Suede is a place to hang out and relax.”  She smirked.  “Well, not that kind of relax…”

 

“This is where Samantha Wainscott came to play, isn’t it Zoey?”

 

“Sammy? Yeah, she spent time here.”  She said cautiously.  “Why?”

 

Olivia felt like slapping herself.  She had been so busy spilling her guts to the younger woman that she had ignored one of the cardinal rules of investigation.

 

The bartender always knows something.

 

“Okay, let’s start over.”  She took a deep breath and pulled out her shield.  “I’m Detective Olivia Benson, and I need to ask you some questions in regards to the death of Samantha Wainscott.”

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

 

Olivia sat quietly at the black marble bar, watching Zoey as she downed her fourth shot.  The bartender had called upstairs an hour earlier to tell her bar back, Melissa, to cover for her and then proceeded to crack open a very expensive bottle of tequila.  Olivia had matched her for the first three shots and then stopped, wanting to keep her head at least somewhat clear, even if she wasn’t technically on the clock.

 

“I can’t believe Sammy’s dead.”  Zoey whispered sadly.  “I mean, the girl had issues but she was a good person.”  She gave the detective a hard look.  “You know you could have told me you were investigating her death.  You could have trusted me.”

 

Olivia had the grace to flush slightly.  “I am sorry, Zoey.  But I have to follow standard procedure.  If it makes you feel any better I was going to talk to you about it tonight.  Serra gave us some information about a woman that Sammy was seeing, that she had met her at ‘the bar’. I just assumed the bar was Velvet.”

 

“Sammy never brought anyone to Velvet but Serra.  I know she got approached by a lot of other women…”

 

“This one would have had an affinity for black leather gloves.”

 

Zoey’s eyes met hers quickly and then slid away. 

 

“You know who I’m talking about.”

 

“I don’t know her name.  The only time I ever saw her upstairs was when she was on the hunt.  And her prey was usually Sammy. I know she spent a lot of time down here, but like I said Suede is Natalia’s domain.  What people choose to do is their own business, as long as they don’t try to do it to me.  And I don’t watch.”

 

Olivia nodded slowly.  “But you have records.  If they spent time in one of those alcoves together you would have their signed waivers and both their names on the reservation right?”

 

Zoey nodded slowly.

 

“Well?”  Olivia’s patience was wearing thin.  “Can I see the records?”

 

The bartender sighed.  “Yes… with a court order.”

 

 “What?” The detective’s jaw dropped.

 

“Look, Olivia, I like you, I do.  And if it were just my ass on the line, I would give you the files.  But our clients rely on our discretion and this is a business where all that matters is the client.  I can’t just hand out their private information because you asked me for it.  I won’t fight a court order, but you have to understand why I need you to get one.”

 

“Fine.”  Olivia muttered under her breath.  “You do realize what I have to do to get it right?”

 

The spark returned to Zoey’s eyes for the first time since she learned of Samantha’s death.  “Let me guess… you have to ‘talk’ to Alexandra Cabot again?”  She snickered.  “Is that such a bad thing?”

 

The detective glared at her.

 

“Ooookay!”  She poured them both another shot.  “In that case, I say we stay right here until we figure out a plan to get you back into that woman’s good graces.”

 

Olivia picked up her shot glass and knocked it back.  “I don’t think you have enough tequila for that.”

 

Zoey slapped the shot glasses aside, setting two tumblers in their place on the bar.  “Let’s test that theory, shall we?”

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *          

 

Oh my god…

 

Olivia groaned loudly as she cracked her eyes open, only to quickly slam them shut again when the light from the open window made her brain feel like it was three sizes too big for her skull.

 

Grabbing a pillow from the other side of the bed, she slammed it down on her face; willing to risk suffocation if it meant blocking out the sun.  After a few moments, the pain receded slightly and she was able to think again.

 

Unfortunately, the first thought that popped into her head was that the pillow on her face smelled like someone else’s hair, which caused her to pull it away quickly, letting the sunlight back in.

 

Sitting up, she rubbed her temples firmly with her fingertips as she looked around the room.

 

Queen sized bed, dresser, end tables, and a door leading to the bathroom… yep, it was a bedroom. 

 

Too bad it wasn’t hers.

 

She pulled the blanket away and looked down at herself.  T-shirt but no bra, briefs but no jeans… Damn, that could mean anything!

 

“Good morning beautiful!”

 

Olivia turned towards the voice to find Zoey standing in the doorway holding a glass.  Her hair was tousled, her body covered by an oversized t-shirt that left far too little to the imagination.  “Shit.”  She grumbled.

 

Zoey laughed.  “Well, aren’t you a little fucking ray of sunshine?” 

 

“Sorry.”  The detective mumbled.  Then she stared at the blonde suspiciously.  “Why the hell do you look so good? You drank more than I did!”

 

She climbed onto the bed next to Olivia and held out the glass.  It was filled with a thick looking sludge that seemed to glow a bright orange-green color.  “I call it The Bitch That Bit Ya.  It’s kind of like ‘the hair o’ the dog’ times ten.”

 

Olivia leaned forward and sniffed the contents of the glass, pulling her head away quickly as her nostrils began to burn.  “What the hell is in that?”

 

Zoey patted her gently on the leg. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.  I suggest plugging your nose, closing your eyes, and downing it in one big gulp.”

 

“I don’t think so…”  She tried to push the glass away from her.

 

“So you want to go see Alex looking like ten pounds of wet dog shit and feeling like a bucket of fuck?”

 

Olivia blinked.  With a sheepish look, she took the offered glass and brought it to her lips.

 

“No, really, close your eyes.”  Zoey smirked. “Otherwise the color will make you dizzy.”

 

The detective did as she was told.  The liquid had the consistency of hot fudge and a flavor she would be eternally grateful that she had no frame of reference for.  She was barely able to hang on to her gag reflex by using every trick she had ever employed at a crime scene. 

 

When she was finally done and fairly certain that the vile concoction wasn’t going to reappear, she handed the glass back to Zoey, arching one eyebrow curiously when the bartender leaned over the side of the bed and dropped it into the trash can.

 

“I’ve never been able to get the smell out of the glass.”  Zoey smirked.

 

“Wonderful.”  She ran her tongue over her teeth.  “How long will it take to get it out of my mouth?”

 

The younger woman smiled, leaning in so close that Olivia could feel her breath against her lips.  “Do you want to find out?”

 

The brunette looked down at the hand still lying casually on her leg, swallowing when long, supple fingers started stroking softly up the inside of her thigh.  “Uh…”  She pulled herself up against the headboard.  “What the hell happened last night?”

 

Zoey followed her, keeping the distance between their bodies to a minimum.  “You mean you don’t remember?”

 

“No… “She grabbed the hand that had jumped up to her belly.  “Zoey!  Look, you’re a nice girl and all, but whatever happened… I-“

 

“Passed out.”  The bartender finished for her, before kissing her sweetly on the lips.

 

“Passed out?”

 

“Yup!”  Zoey grinned.  “We’re in my crash pad, one floor down from Velvet.  I had to have two of the bouncers help me get you up here.  You should have told me you don’t do well with tequila.”

 

“So…  Nothing happened?”

 

“Well, you did spoon me all night.  But I thought that was kind of sweet.”  She laughed at the flush that colored the older woman’s face.  “Other than that, you were a perfect gentleman; which is a good thing, because you’re really not my type.  I like my women a bit less perfect and a lot more needy.”  She patted her on the shoulder.  “Besides, I don’t mess with women in love…”

 

“Whoa!”  Olivia held her hand up to stop the snickering blonde.  “Who said I was in love?”

 

Zoey rolled her eyes. “Like you need to say it, Detective Obvious?  Or would that be…Detective Oblivious?”  She laughed and jumped away when Olivia lunged at her.  “Don’t even try it!  I’m younger and quicker.  Now get dressed.  You have to go see your woman!”