I'm currently watching Oprah and her crazy Aussie adventures and couldn't help whip up a little somethin' somethin'. Now, I know that she's denied, vehemently, that there is a relationship between herself and Gayle King, and I believe her. Soul mates? Mos def, but you don't need to be fucking for that to be the case. However, having said that, *insert wicked giggle here*, there is always that little "what if" voice going on and a tiny -- perfectly chaste -- ficlet fell out of my head and I thought it belongs here, lol. 

Again, totally nice and nonsexy (because there are just some images that people can't handle). Besides, it has to be nice and good-natured because I could never defend myself against the Big O in a libel case...She's worth about $2.6 billion and I have a little over $4000. Ow. 


I am exhausted. It’s not that unusual, but today I am bone tired. I can feel it in my soul. I am in my dressing room after a show and I lean my head back against the head rest, awaiting the arrival of my make-up people. I take in a deep breath and cannot help the fat tears that squeeze out from beneath my tired eyelids.

I don’t need to open my eyes to know that those are her fingers threading through my hair, calming me. “Hush, baby,” she whispers in my ear after pressing a kiss to my throbbing temple, “I know you’re tired, but it’s not long now. It’ll be over soon.”

I grasp her hand in mine and gently kiss the palm. I look at ger reflection in the mbrightly lit mirror and smile weakly, “Thanks, Gayle.” She strokes my hair again and smiles broadly. She says in her best chivalrous Southern accent, “Ne’er a problem, Mizz O.”