All the Boys...
folder
S through Z › Sentinel
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,186
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
S through Z › Sentinel
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,186
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own The Sentinel, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story
All the Boys...
All the Boys...
Phatchick
The Sentinel and its characters are property of Pet Fly. I’m just borrowing them for a few pages.
“I do not fucking believe this!” H growled at his fellow sufferers.
“In what?” Jim replied, “That we lost the bet or that she’s making us go through with it. And just where do you think you’re going, Darwin?”
“Well,” Blair fought to keep the smirk off his face, “She did say cops and since (as you’ve pointed out to me on a number of occasions) I’m not a cop…”
“Forget it, Hairboy. We gotta suffer, you gotta suffer.”
“Or,” Rafe threatened, “Do we tell the whole precinct that Prof. Blair Sandburg is a wimp, a welsher of bets and has two left feet?”
“C’mon, lads,” a cheery female voice sang out just behind them, “It’s Showtime!”
Jim glared at Megan’s retreating back. “I hate that woman.”
Rafe nodded, “Too bad we don’t have crocodiles in Washington state.”
“Yeah, the worst we could threaten her with are salmon,” Blair frowned slightly, “Are salmon carnivorous?”
“Hell, let’s get this over with.” H sighed as he turned to the karaoke stage.
“One moment. Everyone, raise your right hand.” Rafe said as he held his up and placed his left into the circle, the others following suit.
“I”
“I”
“State your name.”
“State your name.”
“Do solemnly swear,”
“Do solemnly swear,”
“That I will never again, for any reason, enter into a bet, wager or dare with Megan Connor, So Help Me God.”
“A-fucking-men!”
“OK, ladies and gentlemen,” the DJ announced, “Our next singer is the lovely and talented Ms Megan Connor!” A round of applause followed as the members of Major Crimes climbed up on the stage.
“Thank you all,” Megan simpered, “and I’d like to introduce my back up dancers for this evening; Jimmy, Brian, Sandy and Henry. Would you please give them a warm welcome?”
If looks could kill, the glares from the four men would’ve turned Megan Connor into a rotting corpse laying on the stage. But it didn’t, the music started and she was soon singing to the catchy Latin beat.
“All the boys they call me Macarina. When I dance they say mi so Buena…”
Phatchick
The Sentinel and its characters are property of Pet Fly. I’m just borrowing them for a few pages.
“I do not fucking believe this!” H growled at his fellow sufferers.
“In what?” Jim replied, “That we lost the bet or that she’s making us go through with it. And just where do you think you’re going, Darwin?”
“Well,” Blair fought to keep the smirk off his face, “She did say cops and since (as you’ve pointed out to me on a number of occasions) I’m not a cop…”
“Forget it, Hairboy. We gotta suffer, you gotta suffer.”
“Or,” Rafe threatened, “Do we tell the whole precinct that Prof. Blair Sandburg is a wimp, a welsher of bets and has two left feet?”
“C’mon, lads,” a cheery female voice sang out just behind them, “It’s Showtime!”
Jim glared at Megan’s retreating back. “I hate that woman.”
Rafe nodded, “Too bad we don’t have crocodiles in Washington state.”
“Yeah, the worst we could threaten her with are salmon,” Blair frowned slightly, “Are salmon carnivorous?”
“Hell, let’s get this over with.” H sighed as he turned to the karaoke stage.
“One moment. Everyone, raise your right hand.” Rafe said as he held his up and placed his left into the circle, the others following suit.
“I”
“I”
“State your name.”
“State your name.”
“Do solemnly swear,”
“Do solemnly swear,”
“That I will never again, for any reason, enter into a bet, wager or dare with Megan Connor, So Help Me God.”
“A-fucking-men!”
“OK, ladies and gentlemen,” the DJ announced, “Our next singer is the lovely and talented Ms Megan Connor!” A round of applause followed as the members of Major Crimes climbed up on the stage.
“Thank you all,” Megan simpered, “and I’d like to introduce my back up dancers for this evening; Jimmy, Brian, Sandy and Henry. Would you please give them a warm welcome?”
If looks could kill, the glares from the four men would’ve turned Megan Connor into a rotting corpse laying on the stage. But it didn’t, the music started and she was soon singing to the catchy Latin beat.
“All the boys they call me Macarina. When I dance they say mi so Buena…”