About Last Night

by

Aimee
(aimeed@earthlink.net)

 "Hello, hello!"  chimed C.C. a little too brightly, breezing through the door a little too breezily.

 "Good-bye, good-bye," trilled Niles mockingly, slamming it shut again.  With the amount she drank last night, it was no wonder she was practically floating.

 C.C. caught the door deftly and set her shoulder to it.  It flew open, causing Niles to go flying backward and catch the closet door up the behind.  Suddenly the room plunged into darkness and he was treated to C.C.'s derisive snicker.

 He pulled C.C.'s coat off his head, and light was restored.  "Shoulders like a linebacker, and a lush, too," he muttered.  "Who wouldn't want a gem like you, other than everybody?"

 "I should have known the maid would have a mouth like a Hoover vacuum.  Must be how your mind got so dirty."

 "Well, now you finally have the means to be rid of me," he said glumly.  "I could be arrested for bestiality, you know."

 "Pretend you remember nothing," she hissed, "Or I'll borrow your rubber gloves just long enough to shove harsh abrasive chemicals up your -- Good Morning, Maxwell!"

 Maxwell just grinned at them.  He looked up and down her hourglass figure, encased in a stunning white Yves St Laurent dress.  "Nice outfit, C.C.  Oh -- is that a spot?  Maybe you and Niles should go wash it!"

 "Maxwell!"

 "Oh, sir, wouldn't she look cute spinning round and round inside the washer?"

 "Sorry to disappoint you, mop man," she shot back.  "The dress is dry clean only and I'm staying in it!"

 "I'm sorry, Miss Babcock, I forgot your kind melts when you add water.

 "And your kind melts under her," Maxwell murmured, chuckling to himself.  "Come on, C.C., work to do.  Niles, coffee."

 "Niles, water," C.C. added.

 "Was I that bad?  Don't do it, Miss Babcock, you have so much to live for!"

 The blondest natural disaster God ever created had already disappeared around the corner.  He told himself the only reason he was staring at her was because he wanted to throw something at her, but her bottom was too big to be a challenging target.
 
 

 So much for Maxwell's important work.  All he'd done all morning was stare at her over his wire-rimmed glasses and chuckle.

 "Maxwell, what is so funny?  That I got drunk and kissed the butler?  Okay, okay, I got drunk, kissed the Tidy-bowl man, went home, threw up, took an aspirin, slept, came back here, end of story.  Now can we please get back to work before it's the end of our new play?"

 It was all true, as far as it went -- except that even while sick, she could still feel Niles' hands at her waist, and long into the night, after her stomach stopped churning, she could still feel the demanding pressure of his lips.  She'd even caught herself thinking, Lord, if that's drunk, may I never be sober.

 C.C. shuddered.  To have kissed that decrepit pervert was bad enough, but to have Maxwell and Nanny Fine walk in on them!  That was what was so humiliating.  She kept her eyes lowered to the cast list in her hands.

 Still, the way he’d just taken charge, taken her, into his arms, was completely unexpected.  And to think that after almost fifteen years, Maxwell had never even noticed her.  Even Nanny Fine couldn’t pin him down . . .

 C.C. groaned and held her head.  Her hangover was just getting started and her ability to fake a cheery mood was evaporating quickly.

 At this point, Niles entered.  He first served Maxwell his coffee, then presented C.C. with a bottle of Evian and two aspirin on a silver slaver.

 “Thanks,” C.C. muttered.  Max sure didn’t care about her head.  Maybe Niles wasn’t so bad.

 He then presented her with a neatly typed document, which she began to read.  “I, C.C. Babcock, do solemnly swear that I do not have hoof and mouth disease . . . NILES!!!”

 “Bye-bye, baby,” he called as he darted out.

 “He likes you,” crooned a voice no one should have to hear when they have a hangover.  Nanny Fine, for once, didn't perch her butt on Max’s desk, she perched it on the edge of the sofa, where she proceeded to shoot questions at C.C.  “Was he good?  How did it happen?  Are you in love with him, or is it just a weird sexual thing?”

 “MISS FINE!”  bellowed Maxwell.  “You can interrogate C.C. later.  We have work to do!”

 C.C. lifted one perfect, French-manicured hand.  “Please, Maxwell, I can handle this myself.  Nanny Fine,” she said, looking up at her nemesis, “Unlike you, I am not a one-woman boink-o-rama.  I barely remember anything, and what I do remember makes me want to scrub my mouth out with Lysol – “

 “Straight up, or on the rocks?”  inquired a voice from the intercom.

 “NILES!” roared three voices at once.

 “The point is,” C.C. continued, “Last night was one of the most horrible experiences of my life.  I’m hung over, I kissed a domestic, and—“ She refused to say the words, I liked it.  “If I’m going to get anything done today, I’m going to need you to get your trampy ass out of here, now!”

 Fran gave an outraged snort and pranced out of the room.

 Maxwell had a devious smile on his face.  “C.C., I’m having a hard time getting Hal Prince to see it my way about the casting of The Little Mermaid.  Somehow I just don’t see Bette Midler in the title role.  Could you handle this for me?”

 “Gimme the phone,” C.C. said murderously.
 

 
 
 “Lunch is ready, sir,” Niles announced, standing in the doorway.

 “We’ll have it in here, Niles, if you don’t mind.”

 “Yes, sir.”

 “What are we having?”

 “Chicken.”

 C.C. choked and spewed water halfway across the room.

 “Of course,” said Niles, “I’ve already had a mouthful.”  He paused long enough to glance at C.C.  “Easy woman,” he taunted.

 “What does that make you, the licentious Lysol man?” retorted C.C.

 “Succubus!”  Niles stalked out.

 “Suck anything of yours?  Yeah, right!”

 It was a good thing he left.  C.C. was getting turned on.
 
 
 

 Maxwell crept around the corner and hissed, “Miss Fine!  Miss Fine!”

 “Yeah?  Yeah?” she replied in the same tone, still mad at him for letting Miss Babcock shout at her like that.

 “Don’t be infantile.  I have a job for you.  Remember that play we went to last week, Much Ado About Nothing?”

 “Yeah, the one with the two couples, and the bad guy with the nice tuchus?”

 “That one.  Remember the second couple, who fought all the time and hated each other and then fell in love?”

 “Uh-huh.  What about it?”

 “Don’t you see, that’s Niles and C.C.!  They care about each other and hide it by arguing.  Miss Fine, I want to manipulate them the same way Beatrice and Benedick were manipulated in the play.”

 “So what’s my job?”

 “To arrange it!  I’m no good at match-making, and neither one will listen to me anyway!”

 “True, but how do you know I can do it?”

 “Miss Fine, you’re Jewish.”

 “Oh yeah.”

 Fran giggled.  They shook hands solemnly, but they couldn’t stop grinning.
 
 

 Late that afternoon, Fran found C.C. inspecting the liquor cabinet.  C.C. felt that a touch of liquor helped ease the last pangs of hangover, and she intended to be eased and damn anyone who got in her way.  She was also celebrating having intimidated one of the most powerful men on Broadway into doing things her way.  Bette Midler would have the secondary role of Ursula the Sea Witch.

 “You mean you don’t want it?” Hal had asked sarcastically.

 C.C. was bloody tired of people calling her a witch, and she was spoiling for a fight.  That being the case, she was thrilled to see Nanny Fine sashay up.

 “Miss Babcock, that’s no way to deal with your problems, honey!” exclaimed Fran.

 “I’m gonna drink and you can’t stop me, floozy.”

 “I’m going to forgive that because I know it’s frustration talking, and believe me, I understand.  Now put away the Crown Royal and let me introduce you to the real woman’s way to drown her troubles!”

 “Manoshiewitz?” C.C. inquired sarcastically, referring to a uniquely Jewish form of alcohol.

 “Shopping!” Fran replied triumphantly.  “Saks Fifth, big sale, come on!”

 “Max needs me.  I, for one, have a job.”

 “Mr. Sheffield said he could do without you.  Please, Miss Babcock?  Val’s got a date, Maggie’s at a party, and Gracie’s at her therapist.  No one to stop us.”  Seeing that she wasn’t getting anywhere, Fran cooed, “An afternoon away from men?”

 “NILES, WHERE’S MY PURSE?”

 “Now you just wait here, Miss Babcock, I’ve just got to talk to Niles about something.”

 “What would anyone have to talk to that putz for?”

 “He was makin’ some really weird chicken jokes at lunch.  I gotta dig the dirt outta him.  And he’s got the keys to Mr. Sheffield’s porsche.”

 Fran pranced through the kitchen door.  C.C. waited one heartbeat, then tiptoed over and set her ear to the door.  If that toad dished, he’d never scrub another toilet again!
 
 

 “Ni-yules,” sang Fran.  “Miss Babcock and I are going shopping, I need the keys!”

 “Miss Fine, if you’re in the market for puppy dog tails, why not just take hers?”

 “You’re the only one that likes her tail around here, Mister.  Now hand over the keys.”

 Niles dangled the keys before her.  “Promise to be mean to her?”  When she tried to grab for the keys, he snatched them away.

 Fran wrestled with him.  “Aww, you know you like her.  Mr. Sheffield and I got an eyeful of you getting a mouthful last night.”

 “I was drunk.  It was the liquor, not me.”

 “It sure looked like you, and it looked like you were heading for second.”  Fran finally got the keys.  “Why can’t you admit you like her?”

 “What, and give that harpy ammunition?”

 “She likes you, too!  I’m telling you, she wasn’t thinkin’ about Mr. Sheffield last night!”

 “Much you know about it,” Niles said sourly.

 “Niles, be a man!  Go for it, tell her how you feel.”

 “I can never admit to that woman that I feel anything for her but scorn and lofty amusement.”

 “But you just admitted it to me!”  Fran said happily, whirling around and heading for the door.

 “Miss Fine, please don’t – “ but Fran was already halfway out the door.
 
 
 

 Thanks to the noise made by Nanny Fine’s heels, C.C. was halfway across the living room by the time Fran came out jingling the keys.  C.C. tried not to let on how badly her hands were shaking as she perched her beret on her hair.  It was one kiss!  How had things gone this far, from one little kiss?

 It was in an uncharacteristically subdued mood that C.C. followed Fran out the front door.
 
 
 

 Fran had to admit one thing – the Babcock bitch could shop.  She blew Fran out of the water in an hour.  Fran found her taste a little boring, but all her clothes were top-quality haute couture, and she spent like the mall was about to blow up.

 “Let’s make one last stop,” Fran suggested.  “I need another new cocktail dress.”

 As Fran browsed the racks, C.C. trailed after her, with a sales girl trailing after her, holding her bags.  As Fran inspected the seams on a lime-green sequined mini dress, she cast her eye about critically.  She needed something proper, yet sexy, demure yet devastating, and very striking.

 “Miss Babcock, Oh, Miss Babcock, look at that, it would be so sweet on you!”

 Sweet was not a word normally associated with C.C. Babcock, which alone was enough to get her attention.  She inspected Fran’s choice, and had to admit it was stunning.  It was powder blue, just a shade lighter than her eyes, with spaghetti straps and a gracefully draped top, and a clingy waist and skirt.

 C.C. was not an indecisive woman.  Fran grabbed the lime green thingy, and C.C. found the blue dress in her size.

 Fran insisted on sharing a dressing room, explaining that it was more like sisters that way.  Dressed in what now appeared to be a lime green sequined strap, she flung her arms high and posed in front of the mirror.

 "Nanny Fine, get out of the way,” snapped C.C., elbowing her aside.  But when C.C. stepped before the mirror, Fran was so stunned she forgot to be offended.

 The dress brought out C.C.’s blue eyes, making them more like sapphires and less like chips of ice.  Her smooth golden-blonde hair was accented, as was her subtly voluptuous body.

 The gown draped in front, creating the effect of an empire waist and showing off the magnificent breasts that she always kept concealed.  The rest of the gown clung to her in a fall of silk that just hit the tops of her knees.

 C.C. could only stare for a second.  She always thought she was pretty, in an asexual, ice queen kind of way, but now she looked sensual and lovely, even – just for a second – she thought, perhaps beautiful.

 Even Fran was at a loss for words.
 
 
 

 “Come on, Miss Babcock, let’s go show Mr. Sheffield our new dresses!”

 “Miss Fine, we are too old to play dress up!  Maxwell is a busy man, and I should be down there with him.”

 Fran hit the intercom button in her room.  “Niles, Miss Babcock will be staying for dinner.”

 “Mr. Sheffield is taking the children out, Miss Fine.  It’s too bad you’re not invited.  If the children become naughty, Miss Babcock could eat them.”

 “Oh, be quiet,” snapped Fran.  Mr. Sheffield was leaving her all alone, and her with a new dress!

 Fran stomped downstairs in her lime green strap, leaving C.C. to hang her new clothes in Fran’s closet to keep them from getting wrinkled.

 “I’m going to dinner with you,” Fran announced as she barged into the office.  “It’s necessary to the plan.”

 Mr. Sheffield glanced up.  “What plan – oh, of course you can join us, Miss Fine.  Did you buy that today?”

 “Yes I did, and wait ‘till you see Miss Babcock’s new outfit, Niles is gonna drop his duster!”

 While Mr. Sheffield was assuring himself that his eyeballs were once again firmly lodged in his head, Fran was out in the kitchen grabbing a snack, anything messy.  It wasn't for eating.  She grabbed some Buffalo wings dripping in sauce and carried them upstairs with her.

 “Oh, Miss Babcock,” she called.

 C.C. was coming down the stairs just as Fran ran up them.  Despite the fact that high heels never impeded her before, Fran somehow managed to drop the wings, spattering C.C. with sauce.

 When C.C. stopped swearing and removed her hands from Fran’s neck, Fran muttered, “The things I do for love,” and started to rescue the wings from the carpet before Maxwell saw the mess.

 “Oh, Miss Babcock, I’m so sorry, that lovely suit!  Never mind, I know the greatest dry cleaner, he’ll get it right out.  Just take off that dress right now.  Isn’t it lucky you’ve got another dress to wear to dinner?”

 “Nanny Fine, get your clumsy claws off of me!  I don’t need to change, and I’m certainly not going to do it right here where everyone can see – “ Fran craned her neck to see if Niles had heard that.  She was pretty sure the Queen of England could hear it.  “Just get me my coat and I’ll go on home.”

 Maxwell arrived just in time to see the entire exchange.  He realized why Fran had dropped the wings on C.C.  “No can do, C.C., I’ll need you for at least another hour before you can leave.  Why don’t you go change and get back down to the office, and Fran can give your dress to Niles to take to the cleaners.”
 
 

 Fran took the dress to Niles, who gazed at it in horror.  “Oh, my God, tell me it wasn’t Brighton!  He’s always been my favorite.”

 Fran slapped his arm.  “Nobody got eaten, I spilled on her.”

 Niles’ look changed to one of adoration.  “Miss Fine, you’re just my absolute hero,” he said dreamily.  He was getting bloody sick of that bloody-minded woman’s bloody rotten attitude, like she was the only one who was deeply disturbed by last night’s bestial exchange!  As if he’d actually want to kiss her.

 Fran winked.  “If you leave now, we’ll be gone before you get back.”  She tossed him the keys.  “I’m gonna go calm down Miss Babcock.”

 Niles wouldn’t miss this for the world.  He headed to the kitchen and hit the intercom for Fran’s room.
 
 

 Fran surreptitiously hit the intercom and closed her bedroom door.  C.C. Babcock stood before the mirror yanking upwards on the neckline of her new blue dress.

 “Miss Babcock, you look pretty, but one thing confuses me.  Why didn’t you let on before that you liked Niles?”

 “Oh, sure, like I even knew.  Anyway, I was blitzed out of my mind last night.  What makes you think I really like him?”

 “I’ve never known alcohol to make two people who truly hated each other get touchy feely.  Anyhow, when Mr. Sheffield and I walked in, you didn’t jump apart.  You stayed in his arms for a second, like you didn’t want to let go.”

 “Oh, Nanny Fine, don’t be ridiculous.  I don’t have a thing for Niles!  Rubber gloves are not a turn on!”

 Downstairs, Niles angrily hit the intercom button and stalked out.  “Ca-ca,” he said resentfully, as he gunned the Porsche.  Wouldn’t it be a shame if her suit ended up under the wheels?
 
 
 

 “Finally!  C.C., go get the town car keys from the kitchen."

 C.C. heaved a sigh of relief.  She could feel herself wasting away to nothing right there in his office.  "God, Maxwell, are you trying to starve me?"

 "Good thing Niles isn't here.  You just walked into something, I'm just not quite sure just what it was."

 "I don't care.  I'm walking into the kitchen for the keys, then into the garage for the car, and if everyone isn't there, I'm going by myself."

 "Just like most of your dates," remarked Brighton, sauntering in."

 "Brighton!" snapped Max.

 "Sorry, but Niles wasn't here to say it."

 "Out of my way, Bratton.  First lesson about women -- never come between a woman and her dinner."

 C.C. stomped out of the room to go and get the keys, then to the front door for her coat, but the fitted coat wouldn't fit over the bulky sweater she'd borrowed from Nanny Fine to cover up the low-cut dress.  She had just removed the sweater and hung it up when, as fate would have it, the Gruesome Gourmet himself walked through the door.

 "Your dress is at the exorcist's -- I mean cleaners -- Oh my God, so is half of that dress.  C.C.!"  he exclaimed.

 "What are you staring at, you ghoul?  Haven't you ever seen a woman before?"

 "I'm beginning to wonder."

 That, evidently, was supposed to be some sort of compliment, but it didn't compare to the look he was giving her now, from her strappy heels to her long legs, on up past her hips and waist and  -- a very definite pause just below the neck.  Just then, C.C. realized she was crossing her arms in front of her breasts.

 "Don't worry, Babcock, I won't molest you, though I wouldn't go near a stable just now if I were you.  You look good enough for a horse to mistake you for one of its own."  He stopped there.  His voice was too unsteady to go on.

 "I thought you said you weren't attracted to me, or were you going to fix me up with one of your relatives in the mule barn?"  Her voice was as whiskey-smooth as ever.  Suddenly, she wanted to vamp it up.  She wanted him to want it so that she could deny it.  She very deliberately reached into her purse, leaned back against the wall, and spritzed her throat and cleavage with a fine mist of Chanel #5.  Her hand, holding the bottle, dragged slowly down her body, to slide the perfume back into her purse.  She glanced at him from under her eyelashes as she strutted by.  And through a supreme effort of self-control, she didn't even look back when she heard the rattle of his car keys hitting the floor.

 Then she paused by the arm of the sofa, turned, and her blue eyes mocked him as she whispered, "Want me, Butler Boy?"

 He was on her before she could make the grand exit she'd planned.  He was seizing her and she was tumbling, back over the arm of the sofa.  "Dear God, Babcock, you witch!"

 "Niles!" she shrieked in a strangled tone.  He came down on top of her and pinned her, grabbing her wrists and holding them high above her head.  Her heart was pounding wildly, and even she didn't know when her wild struggles to be free became fierce writhing against him.  Maybe it was when she felt something pressing into her hips that told her Butler Boy most definitely wanted her.

 He had a grin of pure evil on his face when he looked at her.  "And you said you didn't have a thing for me," he murmured, and he bent to tickle her throat with his lips.

 "Well you've definitely got one for me, I can feel it bruising my stomach!"

 Max and Fran, alerted by C.C.'s shrieks, raced in and skidded to a halt.

 "C.C.!"

 "Ni-yules!"

 The younger Sheffields skidded to a halt behind them.  Gracie screamed for her therapist and ran to the phone.  Maggie screamed "Eww," and ran out the front door, and Brighton stood transfixed, realizing that from this angle, the Blondie Godzilla bore a striking resemblance to Miss August.

 Niles, already minus his tie and a couple of buttons, rose more or less gracefully to his feet.  "You see sir?  I always told you she was some kind of animal -- oomph!"

 After removing her foot from his groin, C.C. propped herself up on her elbows.  One strap had fallen -- or been tugged -- from her shoulder, and a veil of golden hair obscured one eye.

 "Holy shi --umm, shoes!" said Brighton.  "Holy shoes.  Shoes are holy.  I'm going through a religious thing," he explained.  "Happens at my age."  Nobody listened.

 C.C. extended one hand.  Nobody paid any attention to her, either, as she floundered to get herself into a respectable position.  Finally, Fran hurried over and helped her up.  C.C. promptly tripped again.

 "Well, old man," Max said sternly.  "What have you got to say for yourself?"  He towered over Niles intimidatingly.

 Niles paused for one eloquent heartbeat, then, "YES!" he jerked his fist down in the air.

 Seeing that Fran and C.C. weren't looking, Max chuckled and punched his arm approvingly.  Brighton made a vulgar gesture signifying admiration, and high-fived Niles.

 Fran cleared her throat, gave Niles his tie, and shooed them out into the kitchen.  C.C. still had a slightly dopey, shell-shocked look on her face, and she appeared none too sturdy.

 Just before he left, Niles reached over and wiped the corner of her mouth with his finger.  She tried to bite it off.  Niles fled.

 "Come on, Miss Babcock, sit down," they heard Fran say soothingly.

 Once in the kitchen, Niles paused and waited, one finger in the air.  After a few seconds, there came an anguished wail -- "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!  Why meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?"  Niles grinned and got out the pretzels, and the three men of the Sheffield residence gathered around the table to bond.

 Fran was in soon after.  "Quick!  Quick!  She needs a transfusion!"

 "New tub of it in the freezer," said Niles.  "Peanut butter in the cupboard to the left."

 Fran gave him a quizzical look.  "Miss Babcock likes peanut butter," he explained.  Nurse Fran grabbed her medical equipment and returned to the patient.

 As soon as there was silence, Brighton fixed Niles with a look full of hero worship.  "Man!  I can't believe you made it with C.C.!"

 "I don't know what my friends will say when they find out I kissed a man," Niles said mournfully.
 
 
 

 "Thank you, Nanny Fine, I'm feeling much better.  Chocolate and peanut butter even cure wounded dignity, it seems."

 "Honey," Fran protested, "You don't need dignity, you need to assert yourself!  If you didn't like it, slap him, if you did, go get some more!"

 C.C. grabbed for some more ice cream.

 "No -- go in there and tell him what you feel!"

 "You're right -- Fran -- Cover me, I'm going in!  I'm going to tell that toilet-scrubbing troll exactly what I think of him!"

 "That wasn't what I meant," Fran whimpered, but it was too late. C.C. was on the warpath.

 "I will assert myself!  I am in touch with my inner Goddess!  I have nothing to fear!  NILES!"

 Brighton and Max ran as C.C. slammed open the door, leaving Niles sitting all alone at the table holding a pretzel. C.C. grabbed it, crumbled it, and flung it on the floor.  She stood, glaring terribly at him.  "Okay, Wax-on-Wax-off, this is it," she snapped.  Max and Brighton hid behind the staircase and watched.  Fran peered from the kitchen door, cringing as C.C. grabbed Niles by the necktie.

 They stood for one moment, like the Titanic poised to sink below the waves.  Then she slid her knee between his legs and pressed her mouth hungrily to his.

 Fran breathed a sigh of relief.  Max covered Brighton's eyes about the time C.C.'s back landed on the table.

 Not long after that, Niles called out, "Mr. Sheffield, kindly clear away.  I'm hauling an extra-large load up the stairs -- ow, wench!"

 Maxwell and his son watched in horrified fascination as Niles carried C.C. up the stairs.  Niles paused just long enough to glare at Brighton and snarl, "Mine.  Don't look."  Brighton nodded mutely, closing his eyes.  He and Max descended the back stairs to meet Fran in the kitchen.  Maggie and Gracie hurried in after her.

 "Well!"  Max exclaimed, clapping his hands together.  "Anyone for a nice, big dinner?"

 Brighton shook his head "Never again," he said weakly.

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