Category: PWP - Read At Your Own Risk

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AWARD!: Placed Second In Smutty Afghan Contest

Spoilers: "Threshold"

Summary: Janet's sanctuary...

By the time the end of the day rolled around, Janet had two invites. O'Neill was offering movie night with SG-1 (all but Sam, apparently... a guy's night out with the obligatory female guest). She declined, knowing their propensity to get either hard-core action movies or something where an actress lets her bare breasts do the majority of the acting work.

Sam had invited Janet out for coffee. That was an invitation the doctor almost took up. She hesitated before asking for a rain check, much to Sam's disappointment. Janet made a mental note to be sure to buy Sam a coffee some time in the very near future. The invitations were all sweet, but she had a standing promise to herself to fulfill.

There were times working for the SGC as Chief Medical Officer when she thought she just might lose control. The latest example being when Teal'c was taken to the brink of death, and she had promised Sam that she would resign if Hammond and Bra'tac let their friend die. Bra'tac had come through and, at the last moment, they had returned the symbiote. Just an ordinary day working at the SGC.

She had moved on in her worklife, but she had scheduled a little something for herself. It was something she'd done once or twice privately before learning the thrills of doing it in front of someone else. She glanced at the clock and checked her watch. It was almost time for her to leave. She could hardly wait...

---

She went home first, making sure Cassandra was okay and telling her not to wait up. She kissed the girl on the head, grabbed the duffel bag from the closet and left again. She didn't expect to be back home before dawn.

The small club was a thirty minute drive from her house, but it took her a bit longer because she stopped for cappuccino. She sipped the frothy drink, trying not to think of what she was about to do. She parked in the back and hefted her bag onto one shoulder, making her way to the back door. The guard there still didn't recognize her from her face alone, but when she smiled and said, "Hey, Patrick," he smiled back and pushed open the heavy fire door for her.

She went into the insanely bright dressing area and dropped her bags on the first available table. She undid her hair, letting it fall to her shoulders as she looked at herself in the mirror. After unbuttoning her blouse, she unzipped the duffel bag and pushed the two halves open, gazing at her outfit for the night. She withdrew the make-up kit and turned on the lights surrounding her mirror.

Pursing her lips, she traced a ruby red line across her bottom lip and then pressed it against the top. Once her lips had been smeared almost black, she took another tube and drew two nearly invisible lines down her cheeks, using the pad of her thumb and forefinger to smear it evenly. When she was finished, her cheeks and chin had acquired a ghostly pale hue. She found an applicator and added thin black lines to the field of white.

As she was doing this, a burly man approached and glanced in the mirror at her. He was the MC. "8:45?" he asked.

Janet looked at her watch. That was twenty-five minutes from now. She nodded and he slipped away.

Alone again, Janet added some white powder to her upper lip and chin to complete the white-face look. She stepped back from the mirror and then traced another trail of white over her eyebrows. She smeared that down as well, framing her eyes like the negative of a raccoon. She teased her hair again, making it stand out like she had just waken up from a long nap. She smeared some more pale make-up on her throat and upper chest, letting it fade towards her arms. One night she had gone for the entire-pale look and the MC had told her she had looked odd. So the arms remained tanned.

Her make-up done, Janet slipped her blouse from her shoulders and withdrew the first piece of her ensemble; a black g-string. Mama Fraiser's little girl was normally the white cotton panties kind of gal, but tonight... tonight she wasn't going to be Janet Fraiser. She wasn't going to be anyone real.

She unbuttoned her jeans, letting them fall to the floor and kicking them under her make-up table. She quickly doffed her panties, bending to pick them up and hook the g-string over her feet in the same instant. She stood quickly, covering herself as soon as possible. She still felt nervous during this part of the transformation.

Unhooking her bra, she slid it down her arms and pulled a bustier from her bag and pulled it on, lacing it up the front. The leather garment pressed her breasts up on her torso, making every breath a challenge (for her and for the audience). She looked down, eyes widening as she again saw how the leather changed her appearance. She closed her eyes and shook her head. Losing herself was part of this unconventional therapy. Tugging at the cups of the bustier, she continued rummaging through her bag.

Her gown was at the bottom, folded neatly next to her stockings. She pulled the stockings on first, hooking them to the garters dangling from her bustier and making sure the line up the back of the leg was straight. She licked her lips and pulled the gown out, straightening it and dropped it to the floor. She stepped into it and pulled the red silk up her body, loving the way the smooth material hugged her curves. The dress had literally been made for her. There was a long slit in the left leg and she bent her knee to part the fold. Very attractive. She smiled and blushed, going for the next-to-last piece of her costume.

The shawl. It was silk and transparent when the lights hit it at just the right angle. She slid her arms into the sleeves and tugged the front of it closed, tying the two halves together with a thin string over her breasts.

Finally, she withdrew the final piece of the ensemble. The first time she had come to this club, she hadn't wanted to take any chances. It was too close to Colorado Springs, too close to her friends and co-workers, that she didn't want to chance anyone she knew happening in and seeing her. She put the mask on her head, lowering it and fitting the plate against her face. She adjusted it, making sure her eyeholes were in the right position before clasping the last connection. The mask was now firmly attached; it wouldn't slip off.

She looked at herself in the mirror. The mask was pure white, save for a red streak over each eye. The mask ended just under her nose, leaving her cheeks and chin exposed, the reason for her make-up. She feathered her hair a bit more, making it look more like a mane and she pursed her lips. She trailed her fingers over the glass of the mirror and pulled her stilleto heels from the bag. She looked at them, then cocked her head to the side and put them back. The stage wasn't very slippery (it was a rule that it couldn't be too waxed to prevent various body parts from being reflected and to prevent the women in heels from slipping).

She decided to go barefoot. She straightened, zipping up her bag and examining herself in the mirror.

She stood, made the final adjustments to herself, and headed for the curtains. She still had five minutes before she had to go on. The final performer before Janet's scheduled dance was a woman the doctor only knew as "Daisy Duke." She had short brown hair and her 'character' was a farmgirl, complete with the red gingham shirt and cut-off jeans. She kept her cowboy boots on the entire time she was on stage.

Janet scanned the crowd. It wasn't too crowded this evening; a few women were sitting in the far booths, obviously embarrassed to be in this sort of establishment. A few more daring women, all regular customers, dotted the tables around the stage. Janet watched the topless waitresses criss-cross the room, trays balanced on one hand as they deposited their orders.

Daisy finished her set and walked backstage, giving Janet an approving once-over before disappearing behind the curtain. Janet blushed slightly at the attention, but knew she shouldn't have been embarrassed. After all, attention was what this whole thing was about, right?

Suddenly, the lights in the main room dimmed and Janet felt her heart pounding inside her chest. The booming voice of the MC came over the intercoms hidden in the ceiling. "Ladies... Please welcome for your viewing pleasure, a sight from parts unknown. She's a rare treat, a gem to be treasured for her rarity... I want each and every one of you to applaud for this lovely specimen known only as...

"Madame L'Énigme!!!"

Janet had chosen the name for herself; it was French for Miss Riddle. She walked up on stage and stood on her mark as the spotlight found her. She extended her arms upward and bowed her head, the shawl following the upward trail of her hands and curtaining her face. She bent her wrists as she lifted her left leg, pressing her foot against the inside of her right knee. The crowd's applause stopped and the subtle music she'd chosen reached her ears under the mask.

She held the position for a few heartbeats, listening as the crowd grew silent. She brought both hands down, pressing them together between her breasts. In a move she'd practiced more times than she could remember, she hooked her pinkies in the bow of the string holding her shawl together. At the appropriate beat, she dropped to her knees and shot her arms forward. Her right leg bent forward, but her left leg moved off to the side. She arched her back as her hands untied the string, pulling the shawl open. The forward motion of her arms threw the shawl back and off her shoulders. Her breasts, heightened by the bustier and cradled by the gown, rose and fell with each breath she took. She was sure they could see her heart beating through her skin.

Rising to her feet again, Janet extended one arm and held the palm up towards the audience. She spread her fingers, then curled her arm back in towards her body, cradling it against her chest. She drew her body up, as if she had been injured and dropped her head against her chest. She turned her face towards the audience and slowly straightened, drawing her hand down her torso towards her crotch. She rested her hands on her thighs and rolled her head on her shoulders.

She brought her hands back up with one quick, fluid movement. Cupping her own breasts, Janet turned to fully face the audience and walked to the head of the stage. She looked out at the crowd and spotted one face that stood out among the rest. Blue eyes, blonde hair... female. Janet, in the guise of L'Énigme, stepped off the stage and approached the blonde. "Dance with me," the dancer rasped in a disguised voice.

The blonde glanced to the back of the room, as if she was afraid the bouncer would throw her out for this. Janet whispered, "It's all right. You can come on stage if I ask."

"Okay," the blonde said softly.

She stood and walked with L'Énigme to the stairs leading up onto the dim stage. There were some excited whoops from the crowd, but they hushed once L'Énigme and her prey were on the stage. L'Énigme turned and smiled at the blonde, brushing her hair. Quietly, the dancer asked, "May I touch your body?"

The blonde swallowed. "Yes," she finally agreed.

"What can I call you?"

"Uh. Uh, Emily."

L'Énigme smiled. "Very well, Emily." She leaned forward and kissed Emily's lips. Emily moaned, her hands coming up and resting on the dancer's shoulders. L'Énigme flicked her tongue into the blonde's mouth, allowing the other woman to taste the coffee she'd had earlier. Emily's fingers trembled as she slid her hands down to cup L'Énigme's full breasts. The dancer moaned and broke the kiss, smiling at her willing victim.

Stepping back, L'Énigme slipped the straps of her gown off her shoulders and said, "Undress me, Emily."

The blonde knelt and ran her hands over L'Énigme's stomach and legs, pulling the dress gently down her body. It pooled around the dancer's legs and L'Énigme kicked it aside. She lifted her right leg and Emily took it in her hands, letting her fingers trail up the warm flesh. She bent forward and softly kissed the inside of L'Énigme's calf, causing the dancer to moan softly. She felt Emily's tongue brushing over her skin through the stockings, felt the warmth of her breath...

She touched the top of Emily's head and the blonde looked up, slowly standing. L'Énigme put her hands on the blonde's hips and slowly began to dance with her. "I'm going to undress you," L'Énigme warned.

"What?"

"I'm going to undress you. Is that okay?"

Emily looked into the deep brown eyes revealed by the mask and slowly nodded. "Y-yeah. Okay."

L'Énigme pulled at the buttons on Emily's blouse, spreading the material apart and lowering her lips to the supple flesh between the audience member's breasts. She flicked her tongue over the clasp of her bra, then used one fingernail to pop it. Emily gasped slightly and L'Énigme looked up to see her blushing. "It's all right," the dancer assured her. "It's okay. You have a beautiful body."

The dancer untucked the blonde's shirt and undid the rest of the buttons, sliding the shirt off her shoulders. The audience hooted as L'Énigme removed the woman's bra, baring her breasts. L'Énigme smiled and stepped back. "Undo my bustier," she whispered.

Emily's trembling fingers took the strings and pulled them gently, one at a time, and undid the leather top. When the last eyelet was freed, L'Énigme pulled off the bustier and dropped it to one side. A few of the rowdier women in attendence hooted loudly, whistling at the rare sight of a seduction playing out before them. L'Énigme forced Janet to ignore them; Her audience was made of just one person: Emily. The blonde cupped Janet's breasts, feeling the pebbly nipples against her palms and whispered, "You're beautiful."

"You've never even seen my face," L'Énigme said. "*You* are beautiful..."

Emily blushed and leaned in, kissing L'Énigme again. She licked the dancer's lips, then chuckled and said, "You taste like chocolate and coffee."

"I hope you like coffee," L'Énigme laughed, taking on a bit of Janet Fraiser's inflection.

"Oh, yeah," Emily whispered. She kissed L'Énigme again, inhaling the scent of the shorter woman's breath. L'Énigme cupped the tall blonde's breasts and toyed with her nipples, imagining it was another tall blonde she was manipulating; a blonde with the softest skin Janet had ever touched... a blonde with nipples pinker than anything... A blonde with a smile that could melt steel.

Samantha. Oh, how she wished this could be Samantha in her arms! L'Énigme pushed away thoughts of the Major - how would they have even met? L'Énigme was a dancer and Sam was an Air Force Major! - and focused on the woman in her arms. She reached down and undid the clasp on Emily's jeans, slipping her hand between rough denim and smooth flesh. She touched the smooth wetness of Emily's sex and bit her lip.

"W-what are you doing?" Emily asked.

"Do you want me to stop?" L'Énigme asked.

Emily paused for a moment, but finally said, "No. Touch me harder..."

L'Énigme kissed Emily, capturing the blonde's full bottom lip in her teeth and pulling. "We can't do much here. What are you doing in twenty minutes?"

---

L'Énigme threw Emily onto the bed and climbed onto the mattress, perching on her knees above the prone woman. Emily gasped and said, "A-aren't you going to take off the mask?"

"No," the enigmatic dancer said, bending down and kissing Emily again. They were in a room upstairs at the club, provided for 'special guests.' L'Énigme had only been up here once before, with a couple. She kissed her way down Emily's smooth body, pausing to thrust her tongue into the blonde's belly button before descending on the other woman's thighs. She spattered kisses along the length of the blonde's long legs, pausing to inhale the musky scent at the source. She moaned and nuzzled her head against the soft thigh, the cool mask making goosebumps rise.

Emily reached down and ran her fingers through Janet's hair. "I've never made love to a woman before," the blonde admitted.

"It's okay," L'Énigme whispered, pressing her lips against the soft warm flesh of her new lover. "I'll teach you."

She nipped at the full lips of Emily's pussy, slipping her tongue past the puffy barriers and into the warmth hiding inside. Emily moaned and writhed on the mattress, the helpless victim of L'Énigme's expert tongue. L'Énigme had suffered this torture from many lovers, both male and female. She knew how to make the excruciatingly painful pleasure last... She was a goddess when it came to this.

Janet Fraiser no longer resided in her own body. She was an observer, watching from a distance as L'Énigme worked Emily into a frenzy. Finally, at the penultimate moment, L'Énigme returned control over to Janet as Emily came, filling the brunette's mouth with exquisite sweetness.

Janet rolled onto her back, panting as she tried to comprehend everything she had done that night. As she tried to catch her breath, she was aware of Emily climbing on top of her, felt the blonde touching her thighs with her lips. She moaned at the appropriate moments and cried out the right name when she came, but all of her thoughts were focused on Samantha Carter and the mystery of L'Énigme....

---

Janet deposited her supplies in the closet, undressed and climbed into bed. She stared at the ceiling for a while, masturbating as she replayed the events of the night... her dance, her seduction of the woman Emily... her own climax under Emily's lips...

'Who was that woman?' Janet wondered. It certainly hadn't been her. She looked at the closet where her mask was hidden and bit her lip. She was a completely different person as L'Énigme... Perhaps one day she would try to focus that power on a certain blonde Major.

She climaxed quietly around her own fingers and pulled her nightshirt down. She rolled onto her side and welcomed dreams of scantily-clad dances and beautiful blonde Majors.