2005-03-03 - 9:51 p.m.

Vittoria Verta checked the clock again, wondering if concentration could make time move faster. She wanted it to be 6 am, time for her pistols “date” with Gonzo. She loved the way that he walked into the Action Station, carrying that bag chock full of custom built guns that were works of art to any gunslinger worthy of the name. She’d grown up on stories of the great Gonzalvo “Gonzo” Chang, the world’s foremost armorer and weaponsmith and the fact that she could now shoot his guns anytime she wanted filled her with a most impure thrill. But then there was the man himself. He was funny and smart and of course she loved his stories about Actionhero. But there was something more, an indefinable edge to him. He tried to hide it with the slouched posture, the tacky tourist t-shirts, the nonchalant attitude that was somewhere between Burn Out Slacker and Animal House Fratboy. But she knew there was something just past the edge of her awareness and the mystery of it infatuated her.

Or maybe, she just needed to admit what Suki had so eloquently stated to her time and again:

“You want to fuck him, don’t you Vit?”

She blushed when she thought about it, but she had to admit it. She wanted him in sinful ways. Like when she had walked into the “normal” gym that Suki had insisted they install in the building and saw Gonzo working out. He was wearing only a pair of sweat pants and lifting free weights, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he mumbled curses. Vittoria stood frozen in place, her eyes playing over the corded muscles on his back, shoulder, arms and neck. They looked bigger on his stocky Pacific islander frame with its copper skin showing a network of old scars. Watching them ripple in the light, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, she had to fight the urge to walk over to him and run her hands—her tongue—over those scars. The thought had shocked her so much that she was rushed back up to her room and recited ten rosaries. But she had a flushed, dazed look for the rest of the day, which brought no end of laughter to Suki.

She looked back at the clock. Still an hour to go. Hmm, I wonder if I can get him to come to our pistols session in only his sweats….

With a shudder she caught herself. What am I thinking?!?! With an exasperated groan she rose up from her desk.

A snack break!! I need a snack break. Get some of Suki’s chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk. Just to clear my head.

She walked out of the office and down the hall to the kitchen at the end. Walking in, she stopped dead in her tracks. Standing there, naked except for an oversized tacky tourist t-shirt, and holding a six-pack of Carling lager, was The Girl.

Vittoria recognized her, of course. She’d been a contact of Actionhero’s, a special operator for Her Majesty’s Government. She’d been hanging around the City for the last month or so and had been dropping in and out of Man of Mystery, Inc. every now and then.

Actually, she’s been here a lot. And always with…Gonzo….

The Girl turned and smiled. It was a beautiful smile, a perfect smile for a perfect face. On a perfect body. If Vittoria had a gun she would have unloaded a clip into it.

“Oh hello.” Perfect polished British Public School Accent, of course. “You’re Vittoria, right? I don’t think we’ve ever really met but Gonzo’s told me so much about you.” The Girl walked up and gave her a friendly peck on each cheek. Vittoria smiled back. Or at least showed her teeth.

"Well, this is a bit awkward, isn’t it?”

That perfect smile again. Where was a gun when you need one? I bet Actionhero never had this problem.

“But we are all girls here, right Vit? I can call you Vit, right? Call me Westie. It’s what Gonzo calls me. You know, ‘East End Boys and West End Girls.’”

And a fucking perfect laugh. Doesn’t this bitch ever shut up?

“Well, I must get back to Gonzo. He’s insatiable. I’m sure I’ll be seeing more of you around.” The West End Girl walked out (Perfectly. I really need a gun now.) and Vittoria watched her for a moment and then, realizing in horror what she had been thinking and why, walked back to her office, sat down in her chair and summarily banged her head on her desk.

Sometime later: a cough. Vittoria raised her head and saw Suki, in her babydoll nightgown, her hair up in pigtails, standing in the door way to the office holding a pint of Ben and Jerry’s “Actionhero’s Never Empty Chocolate Chip” and two spoons.

“What is it with the boys around here and fucking British accents, huh?”

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