DARING DEEDS II

"Think he's ever coming back out, or do we have to launch a
rescue mission here?" Rafe asked.

"I dunno, and I dun care," slurred a tipsy Brown. "Look whaz
comin'!" He pointed to a tall, leggy vision in blue who had just
appeared and seemed to be making her way over to their table. The
comely creature was occasionally slowed by the physical
admiration of the customers she passed. The poor girl's butt was
going to be black and blue come morning from all the pinches she
endured, Brown noted to himself.

As the young woman passed the table in front of theirs, a portly
gentleman reached out, wrapping his arms around her waist and
pulling her into his lap. She struggled, obviously rejecting the
pass as the man tried to steal a kiss. Large blue eyes stared out
at Jim from beneath long dark lashes, imploring him to help.

Rising, Jim strode purposely toward the neighboring table. "The
lady isn't interested," he stated flatly, reaching for the young
woman's hand.

The heavy-set man just guffawed, ignoring the irritating
intrusion and concentrating on wooing his prize. His "prize,"
however, had other ideas. Whipping her head back sharply, the
woman cracked her skull against her captor's nose, loosing a few
more tendrils of soft mahogany curls from her French roll in the
process.

Howling, the injured man released her. Jim took her hand,
steadying her as she rose to her feet, teetering atop a pair of
pretty amazing platform shoes.

  "You all right?" Jim asked solicitously.

 The young woman nodded.

 Jim was about to release her, when he caught her eye again.
 Cerulean blue stared back at him as the woman chewed
 self-consciously on the fullness of a ruby-red lip. "Sandburg?"
 Jim leaned in closer.

"No way!" Brown asserted, eyeing the shapely vision in sequins
and satin. "*That* one's for real!" He smiled wolfishly at the
young lady.

"No. No. This is Sandburg," Jim insisted, recognizing the
distinctive scent of his Guide, if not his appearance.

"Blair?" Rafe tried to reconcile the foxy vision in front of his
eyes to the short, hairy partner of Detective Ellison.

"Oh, God. Can I sit down now, *please*?" Blair begged.

"I don't know," Jim replied with a sparkle in his eye. "*Can* you
sit wearing that dress?"

"Give it up, Ellison, and help me here!" The typical Sandburgian
irritation in his voice left no doubt in the minds of Rafe and
Brown that Jim had been right, this *was* their wayward
anthropologist.

Jim pulled out a chair and helped ease Blair down into it. The
young man sighed with relief. "Man, these shoes were *not* meant
for walking!" He tried to toe off the offending footwear, but
they were strapped on tight. After an abortive move to bend over
to remove them, Blair gave up in disgust. "Satisfied?" he asked
the detectives.

"Oh, yeah," chuckled Brown. "You're quite a sight, Sandburg!"

"Shut up, H," Blair snapped.

"You look good as a woman, Sandburg, but I'll bet you couldn't
pull it off outside this bar," Rafe commented, a hint of another
dare in his voice.

"And why would I want to, Rafe?" Blair took a long swig of the
drink Jim had set in front of him. "Isn't this humiliation
enough?"

"Aw, come on, Blair. Be a sport!" Rafe wheedled. "You did a
pretty good impression walking out here, but everyone knows the
women in this bar aren't women."

"You didn't," the vision in blue reminded him.

"You had *me* fooled," Brown smiled.

"Like that's hard," Blair snorted. "Jim, step in here, will ya?
Help me out?"

"What's the matter? I thought you were fearless when it came to
taking on challenges like this." Jim grinned at his partner, not
willing to let him off the hook too easily.

Blair sighed. "I did my part in this little dare," he protested.
"Can I get out of this outfit now? I don't have to *prove*
anything else to this pair of dorks." Using the table to steady
himself, he tried to rise, but was stopped by a hand on his arm.

"The show's about to start, Chief," Jim told him. "Can't it wait
a few minutes? I thought you wanted to see this guy."

Settling back into his chair a bit grudgingly, Blair murmured his
agreement. He turned his attention to the stage as the evening's
act, Dr. Naughty, the X-rated hypnotist, was being announced.

The man made his entrance in with a cliché swirl of black and red
cape over a gaudy tuxedo with a red cummerbund. "Ladies and
gentlemen," he began, "could I have a volunteer from the
audience?"

A young woman, coaxed by her escort, stood and raised her hand.

"Wonderful! Wonderful! Please come right on up, little lady. Have
a seat." The sweet young thing perched herself on the stool
provided and looked at the hypnotist nervously.

"There's no need to be nervous," Dr. Naughty assured her. "And
your name is. . . ?"

"Patty."

"Well, Patty, this won't hurt a bit," the hypnotist grinned as
the audience chuckled.

"What a bunch of crock!" Jim sneered quietly, watching as the
young woman was put into a hypnotic trance.

Dr. Naughty made the suggestion that she was a stripper. She
began to disrobe, the audience hooting and clapping
appreciatively. She unhooked the fastenings on her black lace
bra, dropping it to the floor with the rest of her clothing.
Topless, she danced seductively for a few moments before Dr.
Naughty brought her out of the trance.

She yelped in surprise at her state of undress and covered
herself, running off stage to the safety of the curtains.

"She was a plant." Jim was confident.

"If you think it's such a charade, why don't *you* volunteer to
be hypnotized?" Brown suggested.

"I can't *be* hypnotized," Jim insisted.

"All the more reason to volunteer and prove what a charlatan the
guy is!" Rafe insisted.

"Sure, Jim," Blair chimed in. "It's your turn to make a fool of
yourself tonight. Go show us what you're made of!"

"Who will be my next volunteer?" Dr. Naughty asked the audience.

At that moment, Jim chose to bat his partner upside the head for
his previous comment. The hypnotist took the raised hand to mean
Ellison was volunteering.

"Wonderful! We have our next vict . . . volunteer right here!"
The audience chuckled at the old joke.

"No. Oh, no. No, no, no," Jim insisted as the hypnotist's
assistant came to pluck him from the audience.

"Go on, Jim. Prove what a fake the guy is." Blair gave the man a
gentle shove to get him out of his seat.

Jim rose, but grumbled back a warning, "I'll get you for this,
Sandburg. . . ." as he was led to the stage.

"Just make yourself comfortable," Dr. Naughty instructed. "What
is your name, Sir?"

"Ellison. *Detective* James Ellison." Jim perched himself with
one foot on the rung of the stool and one foot on the floor.
Leaning an arm on his knee, he eyed the hypnotist. "I can't be
hypnotized," he stated flatly.

"I get that a lot," Dr. Naughty smiled. "Just relax and
concentrate. . . ." His soothing voice droned on as the Sentinel
focused on the sound. Slowly, Jim felt his senses slipping away
into something resembling a zone-out, helpless to stop the slide.

"Ladies and gentlemen. . ." Dr. Naughty grinned. "Now that we
have Detective Ellison's full attention. . ." he paused briefly
as the crowd chuckled again, "what shall we have him do for us?"
He looked out over the audience.

"Hey, I know!" Brown piped up. "Have Ellison propose marriage to
his partner!" He pointed animatedly toward Blair.

"H!!" Blair protested, turning to scowl at the large black man.
"Shhh!!" He waved his hands frantically, trying to get the
detective to quiet down.

"Go on!" Rafe encouraged. "I dare you to prove you can pull off
this female impersonation of yours."

Blair turned his frown on the younger of the two detectives. "And
how do you propose I do that?"

"Exactly!" Rafe smiled. "Propose! Let Ellison propose, then go
through with the wedding."

"You have *got* to be kidding! Just how much, exactly, have you
been drinking?" Blair's voice had risen a notch in disbelief.

Rafe smirked. "Bet you won't go through with it. You don't have
the balls to try something this outlandish. This is beyond even
The Sandburg Zone."

"Gentlemen?" Dr. Naughty brought their attention back to the
stage.

"Make him propose to me," Blair commanded, turning a smug look on
the two startled detectives.

The hypnotist smiled and turned his attention back to his
subject. "Detective Ellison?" There was no visible response. "You
have fallen deeply in love with the beautiful lady in blue at
your table. You will propose marriage to her. If she accepts, you
will then take her to a chapel and wed her."

Dr. Naughty turned his attention to Blair. "It's customary to
give the subject a trigger phrase, something to bring him out of
the trance. As the good detective will be leaving this room, you
will have to be the one to break the trance. We need a phrase
he's not likely to hear until *you* say it."

"How about, 'Good morning, Jim'?" Blair suggested.

"Perfect!" The hypnotist returned his attention to his subject.
"When you hear the phrase 'Good morning, Jim,' you will come out
of the trance and remember everything that's happened to you."
Dr. Naughty paused for dramatic effect. "I'm going to count
backward from three to one," he continued. "When I reach 'one,'
you will wake up, walk over to your table and propose marriage to
the lovely lady." He looked at Jim, then began his count with a
theatrical wave of his arms. "Three . . . two . . . one!"

Jim opened his eyes, blinking rapidly. He turned and grinned at
the hypnotist. "See? I knew you couldn't put me in a trance."

There was a muted chuckle from the audience.

Jim rose to return to the table. He caught Blair's eyes, those
liquid pools of blue being all he could see.


As he approached the table, he dropped to one knee in
 front of his partner. Cradling Blair's hand in his own, he
 looked up with rapture into the young man's face.

 "Blair, sweetest, would you do me the honor of becoming
my wife?" The words were whispered almost reverently.

Blair glanced over at Rafe and Brown, a goofy grin plastered on
his face. The two detectives nodded enthusiastically. Turning
back to his Sentinel, Blair took a deep breath, held it a moment,
then expelled it slowly. "Sure. Yeah. I mean, well, okay. I'll
marry you."

The answer appeared to please the older man inordinately. He
placed a chaste kiss on the back of Blair's hand before rising to
lean in for a kiss on the lips. Blair reared back instinctively,
trying to avoid the touch of lips on lips. Caught off guard, a
none-too-sober Ellison lost his balance, landing in Blair's lap.

Blair's eyes grew wide, and a smile spread slowly across his
face. "I knew you had it bad, man, but you didn't have to fall
for me *that* hard!" A chuckle escaped from behind a muffling
hand.

Pulling himself up, Jim looked dreamily at the young man. "What's
the matter, Lamb Chop?" Jim crooned, turning Blair's face toward
him with a gentle touch of his hand. He leaned forward to attempt
the kiss again.

"You smell like a brewery, Beefstick!" Blair complained, turning
his head once more.

Jim backed down, looking a bit hurt, but settled for another kiss
to the back of the hand he still held.

"Congratulations!" Rafe rose from his chair to slap Ellison on
the back and grin widely at the not-so-amused Blair. "Now all we
have to do is get you something decent to wear to your wedding."