Quickie

a Ranma1/2 fanfiction
by Ukyou Kuonji


  We've walked several wards over from Nerima, so none of our friends 
(such as they are) would recognize us.  We would’ve simply met here, 
for greater security, but I worry about him finding the place.  It’s 
not the sort of thing he would go looking for (not that *I’ve* ever 
gone looking for one, either), and anyway he’s just not as familiar 
with this part of Tokyo as I am.
  So here we stand, ready to walk in.  Sort of.  We look at each other.
  "I can't believe we're doing this."  Neither can I.
  HOTEL PHANTASIE
  QUICKIE  ¥5,000
  OVERNIGHT  ¥11,000
  He swallows hard.  I wonder if he really wants to do this.  Maybe 
I ought to give him a chance.  “Look, we can back out if you’d rather.
We can still call it off and go home.”
  That straightens him out.  “No way.  We’ve come this far, we might 
as well go all the way.”  He smiles at his little joke.
  “Okay, then.  Lead on, darling.”
  The thought of actually going inside makes him flinch.  His hand 
goes up to his face.  Is he covering his nose?  No matter.  I take 
his upraised arm, like a girl on a prom date.  Slowly, he brings his 
hand down and looks at me in wonder.  Then, he breaks into a smile, 
and together we walk inside.
  The tiny lobby is empty, save for a counter only a few feet from us.
A small window slides open, and the face of a tiny mama-san squints 
out at us.  “Quickie or overnight?”  Once again, his face flushes.
  “Uh... quickie, I guess.”  He shrugs his backpack off his shoulders.
  The mama-san notices his bundle.  “You’re packed for a longer stay, 
aren’t you?”
  “Erm... no, actually, I always carry this with me.”  After a little 
bit of rummaging around, he pulls out a few bills, and places them 
on the counter, where they are immediately snatched from sight.
  “You’ve got two hours.  You can buy more time if you want to then. 
Room 106.”  and the window shuts.  There is a buzzing noise, and we 
realize we’re to open the door next to the counter.  He waves me 
forward.
  “Ladies first.”  I give him a slightly cock-eyed look, and open the
door.  Once inside the hallway, we notice a key dropping into a little
receptacle.  Must be what we’re looking for.  I pick it up.  “I still 
can’t believe we’re doing this.”
  “Me neither.”  He looks around.  “I hope there aren’t any windows.”
We pass by several other rooms on our way, of course.  He cocks his 
head; apparently he hears something.  Yep.  He’s turning crimson.
  “You’re not supposed to be paying attention to that...”  I warn him.
  “Eh... heh-heh.  It that what it sounds like?”
  Not that I know any better, but why not give him the implication 
that I do?  “Stick around, and you’ll find out.”  I give him a sultry 
look.
  Room 106.  He slips the key into the lock and opens the door.  Wow...
it’s beautiful in here.  Thick shag carpeting, dim lighting... and of 
course, the bed.  It’s round, and huge, a gorgeous playground of... 
heh, heh.  Of course, *he’s* just happy to not see any windows.  
“Finally.  Alone at last.”
  I have to nod.  “Yeah.  No prying eyes, no gossiping classmates...”
  “...and no blackmailing Nabiki.  These two hours are expensive 
enough without having to deal with *her*.”
  “Stop worrying about the expense.  I’ll spring for this the next 
time.”  His eyes light up at the suggestion of a ‘next time.’  “What?
You didn’t think there’d be another one?  Come on.  The privacy’s 
cheap for the price, ne?  And as for Nabiki, well... I can handle 
her.”  I smile, caressing the large spatula strapped to my back.
  Now it’s his turn to grin.  “With that?  I thought better of you.” 
He’s starting to relax, and begins looking around at everything this 
place has to offer.  “Whoa!  Lookit all the videos they got here!”
  I unfasten my robe and slowly unwind the chest wrappings.  “Don’t 
even *think* about it.  Pay attention to *me*, not the videos, or you 
really *will* get a bloody nose, buster.”  I ball up my fist and shake
it at him; jokingly, of course.
  He sets down the tape he’s holding.  Now he sees me, naked from the 
waist up.  His eyes are really shining now.  “Right.  Who needs this 
when we’ve got each other?  The real thing is so much better, ne?”
  “You said it.  Come on, big boy, show me whatcha got.”  All too eager 
to comply, he removes his yellow muscle shirt, and then his leggings. 
Oh, yes!  He’s rarin’ to go, isn’t he?  He pulls the bandana off his 
head, and a short pigtail falls down from its hiding place.  I smile.
  “Yep.  Off with the disguise, ne?”  I slip off my tights and stride 
over to him.  I give him one of my best smiles (right now, why 
wouldn’t I?) and kiss him full on the lips. 
  “You know, you really are kawaii...” he murmurs into my ear.
  I step back a moment, and put my hands on my hips.  “Hm.  After 
all this time.  Do you really mean that, Ranma?  Even with me like 
this?”  I reach up and run my fingers through my hair.  Then, with 
a quick pull, I remove the long wig, complete with bow, and I’m 
standing before him, now perfectly naked, in all my short-haired 
glory.
  “Yeah, I mean it.  I love you... Akane.”
  I smile.  “Good.  And the same goes to you.  Now, let’s get on 
with it, shall we?”
  “Tomboy.”
  “Baka.”
  Click.

***

Afterword:

The other day, I received a letter from a reader on the r.a.a.c. about 
“The Ill-Timed Cure”; he was wondering if and when I planned to do 
“a plain sappy Ranma-Akane story... like Joseph Palmer’s Seasons or 
Colours [series].”  (Please, Joseph.. I never said that about your 
work.  I’m just quoting.)   Well, lemme tell ya, this is as close as 
I’m gonna get.  And since you hentai out there probably expected 
the worst from a story basically set in a love hotel, this is a tale 
guaranteed to disappoint lotsa people.  Oh, well... it was fun to 
write it, and it gets my mind off of my troubles (even if it reminds 
me of others I have).

I realize Akane wouldn’t normally be this aggressive, but I’m sort 
of relying on the actress Akane from “The Masks We Must Wear” by 
Bob Barnes, and in that case, who’s to say about her feelings for 
Ran-chan?  Maybe they’d be more than willing to sneak off to a love 
hotel, if they thought they could get away with it.  Of course, they’d 
have to make sure they weren’t recognized...

Well, it’s seems to have wound up more like my “Suicide” than like 
anything of Palmer’s.  I guess that stands to reason.  And now that 
I’ve done a stinger on the topics of death and sex, I verily vow I 
will NOT do a story on taxes.

Lemme know whatcha think, ne?  Write me at

ukyoukwnji@aol.com

Till then, ja!

Itsu mo,
Ucchan   ^_~