"We're out of champagne!" Estelle exclaimed. "We're doomed!" 

     Noel: "How can such a thing be? We're going to have to call for another bottle. This is the only possible solution."

     Shawnacy smiled. She rose out of the tub, gave herself a quick dry off, then flew from the room. 

     She returned a moment later with a bottle clutched in her fist.

     Estelle gasped. "Where did you ​get that?"

     Shawnacy handed the bottle to Brock. He got a look at the label.

     "It's peach vodka," he said. "It's good, too. It's been distilled seven times. It's got to be smooth as silk to drink." He grabbed the pitcher of orange juice. "I'm going to find out what orange juice and peach vodka tastes like."

     "You going to get a new glass?" Noel asked. 

     "The glass I've got is empty except for ice and a little bit of mimosa. I should be okay." 

     "I'm just saying." 

     "Where did you ​get it?" Estelle asked again.

     Shawnacy pretended to hug somebody. 

     "Ensign gave you this bottle?" 

     Shawnacy smiled and nodded. It was the smile of someone at least trying to be happy, trying to join in on the celebration.

     "Ensign probably figured that the two of you would be drinking it together," Estelle said. "Oh well..." 

     Shawnacy finished what was left in her sippy cup, then handed the cup to Brock. Fill 'er up, was the message there. 

     "I'll take some of that, too," Estelle said. 

     "Is your glass empty?" Brock asked.

     "Don't matter. Pour it in." 

     "Are you sure..." 

     "It's all going to end up in my stomach anyway. Pour!"

     "I believe I'll have some as well," Noel said. He kept his voice under tight control, like the other people in the room wouldn't know why he slurred his words.

​     "A question?" Estelle asked in Noel's direction so that he'd know she was talking to him.

     "If your question involves ancient Egyptian poetry, I'm sorry, but I won't be able to help you. That's not my field. Anything else, sure."

     "You ever get paranoid? You ever think everyone's staring at you, and if they are or not you don't know because you can't see?"

     "When I first hit puberty, I thought about it all the time. I was so self-conscious, I never wanted to go out. What I finally came to realize, though, is that it doesn't really matter whether anybody's staring at me or not. I mean, what could I do about it, anyway?"

     "That's exactly the way I am," Estelle replied, "and I decided that at the exact same time you did, when I hit puberty. That's also when the soul power really hit."

     Shawnacy suddenly recoiled into a fetal position, as if a serpent had slithered into the tub to join them.

     "What?" Estelle said.

     Brock turned beet red. "She saw my erection," he said. "It keeps coming and going. Don't worry, it's gone again. I am, like, so totally embarrassed right now."

​     It was hardly the first time an erection had appeared in that hot tub over the five years the four of them had trained together, and, although one was never appreciated and generally ignored, no one had ever especially freaked out before either, until then. Shawnacy's reaction surprised them. It brought a tension into the room that Noel sensed.

     He tried to joke it away.

     "Control yourself, man," he said. "Use a little decorum."

     Not much of a comedian, Noel. 

     "This is partly my fault," Estelle said. "Brock and I have been getting a little..."

     "Sexual," Brock said.

     "While you two were getting yourselves together," Estelle continued. "This isn't the first time I've seen his stiff one tonight." 

     "She was rubbing it," Brock said.

     "Just touching it," Estelle said. 

     "Soaping it." 

     "Oh." This information stunned both Noel and Shawnacy. It looked for a moment like Shawnacy might actually flee.

     "I...I'm sorry," Noel stammered. "I guess I never pictured you two as..." 

     "Neither did we," Estelle exclaimed.

     No comment from Brock.

     "Hold on a second," Noel said. He took the bottle from Brock to, at first, sniff at it, then sip from it.

     "Oh my God, that really is smooth," he said. "And there's just a hint of peach ​flavor, although it's there, it's definitely there."

     "My drink tastes like shit," Estelle said. "I shouldn't have mixed. I'll be right back."

     She got out of the tub to get a fresh glass. She didn't bother to dry off. Noel heard her dripping as she climbed the stairs to the kitchen.

      Noel made a drink with the vodka and orange juice. "What would you call this drink?" he asked. "It's more than just a screwdriver. It's a..."

      "A peach driver?" Brock suggested.

     Noel took a sip, then saluted the glass. "Yes, my friends, that verily is a wonderful drink."

     "I'll drink to that," Estelle said, climbing back into the tub.

      The four of them toasted the fact that peach vodka and orange juice tasted great.

     "This is one bottle we're going to savor," Noel said.

                                                  CONTINUE