Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ I Thee Wed ❯ Funky Tea and a Bedwarmer? ( Chapter 4 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Disclaimer: I do not own Dbz, or Mrs. Quicks characters. Unless they wish to bequeath them to me!

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Chapter Four : Funky Tea and a Bedwarmer?



Vegeta lounged against a post, as he passively watched the amateur horse races. He had made a few small bets on a couple of well looking quarter horses. "Number ten is the winner!! Number ten gentle men!!" A loud voice yelled from a podium. Vegeta didn't care if he won or not, he had only risked petty sums. He did not want others to become suspious of him, for even those who were in no position wagered something. He wondered about Miss Briefs, and how was she faring today. Better than himself hopefully.



Vegeta let out a sigh, and withdrew his pocket watch. It was handsomely designed. Made out of pure gold, not plated. On the outside there was a dragon embossed in silver, which had been specially made. The watch was suspended from a gold chain attached in his pocket. The watch was a present to himself, for becoming a success, with out help from anyone financially.


He flipped it open, glanced at the hands, then slid it back into his pocket. Then focused his attention on the races in front of him.



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Bulma sipped the special blend of tea Miranda had served them. They were now getting ready to play some kind of guessing game involving cards. She had politely tried not to join in their games, but Miranda had insisted, especially with the guessing game. What else could see do except to join them.


"I hope you all enjoy my exclusively blended tea." Miranda said laying a card face down on the table.


Bulma suddenly felt extremely dizzy, her mind clouding over. She set her cup down on it saucer, trying as hard as she could not to allow her hand to shake. What was wrong with her? She had been fine just a minute ago. She knew that you could catch a sickness quickly, but not this quickly. Her stomach churned, and she prayed to the gods not to be ill in front of all the ladies. Closing her eyes for a moment she tried to gather her bearings.


"Jane, can you tell me what this card is?" Miranda asked Lady Loggins. All the ladies were dressed elegantly, including Miranda who was dressed in her colors. , a satin blue day dress. Her dress and black hair were styled in the height of fashion, as were several other ladies. She wasn't gorgeous, but she commanded attention of al those present. Bulma could see Swan a couple yards behind Miranda. Watching her with utter devotion. A pang of pity for him entered her heart, through the haze of her illness.


"Hmm….a Queen of Diamonds?" Jane asked.

"No sorry. How about you Tiffany?" Miranda asked a young blonde. Lady Railings pondered it for a moment or two. "I haven't the vaguest notion Miranda."


Miranda nodded and moved on to the next lady. "Letty care to give a guess?"

Letty snorted disdainfully. " I only like cards when there's money to be won."

Several ladies laughed.

"It is just a guess." Miranda implored.

"Very well, Ten of Clubs?"

"I fear not. How about you Miss Briefs? Care to hazard a guess?"


"I beg you pardon?" Bulma asked, her head still swimming.


"A guess Miss Briefs." Miranda said, a note of impatience in her voice.

"Oh, yes. Hmm.." Bulma looked at the card then up into Miranda's ice colored eyes. And just a suddenly, as she became sick, she knew what the card was.

"Ace of Spades." Bulma murmured.

Miranda's eye brightened. "Correct Miss Briefs." Miranda favored her with a smile. Bulma couldn't summon up a smile in return. "Swan, do pour everyone another cup of my wonderful tea."


Swan who had stood behind his mistress, and watched her from afar, moved forwards grabbing the teapot. "Yes milady." Swan said as Miranda shuffled the cards for another round.


Cynthia Moore eyed Swan. Her brown eyes trailing over his form. She licked her lips and spoke. "Where ever did you get Swan Miranda? Such an excellent creature." she said as if Swan was deaf.


Miranda lifted a delicate brow. "He joined me at the beginning of the season. He is quite useful."


"I'd say so. Would you lend him to me for the day? I wish to find out if everything is as big on him, as he is. I love a big man, who gives satisfaction in every regard." The ladies busted into giggles at the blatant sexual remark. Swan turned beat red with embarrassment. Bulma notice the teapot shaking in his grasp, and she felt even more sorry for him.


"No thank you." Bulma said as Swan moved to pour her a cup.

Miranda looked alarmed. " I insist! Pour Miss Briefs more tea." She commanded of Swan.

Cynthia spoke again. "The view from this side is very nice, wouldn't you say so?" Swan's hand trembled as her poured her tea. Some slipped on to Bulma's fingers, She pulled her hand back quickly. Swans red faced paled.

"You clumsy lumbering fool! You spilled tea on Miss Briefs." Miranda growled out. Swan flinched as if wounded.


"No Lady Ames, there is no harm done. It was my fault; you see I moved my cup as Swan was pouring. So I am to blame. Besides I am about to excuse my self any ways."


Miranda's rage evaporated. "You cannot go! We have only just started."


" I am sorry. Do excuse me. It was nice of you to include me today. But I am feeling a little ill at the moment." Bulma stood up shakily and slowly, bracing herself against the table. Her face was very pale.


Letty's brows drew down in concern. " Bulma are you all right?" Bulma moved behind the chair, bracing her self against it as she had done with the table. She mustered a small smile. "I fine."


Miranda smiled an icy smile. " Oh dear heaven girls, I believe we have tuckered Miss Briefs out. She is not used to moving in such elevated circles. Am I right ?"

"Of course." Bulma replied sweetly, ignoring the small giggles and Miranda's sarcasm. "Good day to you all." She replied and left the library.


Bracing her self for the climb up to the third floor, she took a deep breath, picked up her skirts and began to climb.


By the time she reached the third floor she was feeling better. No one was up here, she would have peace and quite while she took a nap. She would have had peace and quite any ways; she was alone with storage rooms in this wing.


Bulma turned her key in the lock and pushed the door open. The small room was Spartan in style. A bed, washbasin, and bureau. The only color was framed flower embroidery. Most likely made by Miss Kent. Bulma put her spectacles on the bureau and lie down on the bed. Studying the work, wondering what had happened to Miss Kent when she drifted off.


Bulma was awaken some time later by the cries of a woman. She knew the voice. Bulma got out of bed and quietly rushed to her door. She pressed her ear against it and listened.


"Mr. Chaplin don't! Please don't. I am to be married, so I am."


"Are you now? Well then you'll thank me later for teaching you about the marriage bed eh chit?" Yamcha asked cruelly.


"No please no! I am a good girl, so I am. Please don't do this to me please!!" Polly cried loudly.


"Shut your mouth! Do you know what will happen if you don't? They'll find us and you'll be kicked out with out a reference. That's what happened to the last girl I had sport with in a lien closet." Yamcha threatened her.


That was enough! Bulma was filled with rage, ten times as strong as when she had been in Miranda's wardrobe. She grabbed a bed warmer and quietly exited her room. A door was closing down the hallway. She grabbed her skirts with her free hand and trotted down the hallway.


She heard thuds from the other side of the door. Then a moan of despair from Polly, and she opened the door quietly, bed warmer poised.


Yamcha had Polly pinned down on the floor of a small dingy storage room, and was trying to unbuckle his trousers. He hadn't heard her enter yet. Good. She didn't want the bastard to hear her.


He was breathing hard. " You should be happy to have a gentleman under your skirts, you little bitch."


Polly raised frighten and desperate eyes to Bulma. Who knew exactly how she felt. She had experienced it also.


"You got fight, I like it when you fight. Makes everything more interesting." Yamcha crooned to Polly.

"I hope you find this interesting too, Bastard." Bulma whispered, then brought the bed warmer down on the back of his head hard.. He fell boneless to the floor next to Polly.


"Sweet Jesus, ye've killed Mr. Chaplin!" Polly cried as she scrambled to her feet.

Bulma glace at Yamcha's inert form apprehensively. " Do you really think so?"


"Oh aye, aye. Now what are we to do? They'll 'ang us for sure, for killin' a gentleman." Polly said, fear and desperation tightening her voice.


"I was the one to hit him. Not you." Bulma pointed out.


"Oh they'll still 'ang the both of us. Aye, I know the will."


Bulma believed they would do exactly what Polly had said. She shook of the panic and fear that wanted to drown her. "Let us think a minute. There has to be something we can do."



"No there's nothing. Were walking dead men." Polly was beginning to panic, she wrung her wrist violently.


"Help me carry him. Grab his arms." Bulma ordered, grabbing his legs.

"For what?"

"So we can push him down the stair case."

"They'll think 'e got 'em 'imself drunk, and to a tumble down the stairs, and kilt 'imself right?"

"That's the idea of it."

"We might live yet, this is right smart of you Miss Briefs."

"Well thank you Polly, lets get him before anyone stumbles upon us."

"Right you are ma'am." Polly pushed and Bulma pulled, hard. They succeeded in moving him a few inches.

" 'Eavy bloke ain't 'e?"

"Quite heavy." Bulma replied tugging harder.


"Would you ladies be in need of some help?" Vegeta asked casually from the door. Bulma stood straight up hear heart quickening its pace, Yamcha's legs still in her arms.


Polly stepped back, tears forming in her eyes. "Were doomed." She whispered face crestfallen.


Bulma remained calm. If Vegeta was going to turn her in, then she was already dead. She turned to look at him, his face and eyes unreadable. He was handsome as usual, dressed in similar black clothing she had met him in. He looked from her to the bed warmer, and Bulma knew he knew what had happened. And she wondered if he would turn them in, for he was the one breaking into peoples rooms at night, and making compromising deals with ladies he was unacquainted with.


"We could use some help, yes. He is quite heavy."
Bulma said, letting go of Yamcha's legs. She pulled out the cress in her dress.

" Mr. Chaplin was trying to force his attentions upon Polly, so I hit him in the head with a bed warmer."


"She killed 'im!" Polly said taking a few steps back from the body. As if to prove her innocence.


Vegeta ignored Polly. "Are you absolutely certain he's dead? It would be compromising to toss him down some stairs, even if he does deserves it."


"Very well." Bulma agreed. Vegeta closed the door behind him, and walked to Yamcha's body.


" 'E fell really sudden like, sir." Polly offered.

"He did feel rather limp." Bulma agreed, as Vegeta crouched down next to Yamacha's prone form. Placing his fingers against Yamcha's neck he felt for a pulse. And found one. Strong and steady.

"I'd say he'll live. He's just unconscious." Vegeta informed them, standing up. "A thick skull no doubt. When he awakens he'll have one hell of a head ace."


"Serves him right. A head ace is not at all justifiable, for what he has done."

Vegeta studied her for a moment. "Yes well." Was all he could say.


"Bless the angels watchin' o'er us. We aren't going to be hanged."

'More like bless Mr. Stokes.' Bulma thought as Polly's happiness quickly dissolved.


"When Mr. Chaplin comes too, won the tell the authorities on us?"

"I doubt it. Most people who are knocked unconscious do not remember the events before they are rendered unconscious, in my experience."


Bulma wondered just what his experience was.


"No one will alert the authorities. Least of all Yamcha Chaplin. I assure you. Now let me handle the rest of this business."


"And how do you plan to do that sir?"

"I will take him to his chamber, when he awakens I will tell him that he has suffered from an accident. He will not remember any thing, so he will be force to believe everything I say. Do not concern yourself." Vegeta stated, then he bent down and picked up Yamcha's unconscious body with a strength that was freighting. He then placed him over his shoulders, like a lady would wear a fur.

Bulma started to protest against his plan when interrupted her. "Everything will be fine, just leave this all to me. All you two must do is keep quite, do not speak a word of this to anyone."

"Yes sir." Polly dutifully responded.

"Of course I wont say a thing."
'What does he think I would tell the whole world I just knocked Yamcha Chaplin senseless? What king of a fool does he take me for?'

"Won't getting him to his chamber be a trifle hard?" Bulma inquired studying Yamcha.


"Not too much."

"What about the stairs? Someone will surely see you."


"I'll take the back one."


Satisfied Bulma relented. "Very well. This is awful decent of you Mr. Stokes."


He studied her again. A Thoughtful expression on his face. "It is isn't it?"