Only in America

When she was twenty-four, America Ortega, Boss of the Third Street Saints, learned what it was like to not sleep with a woman.

As soon as the Saints had begun to clean up the mission that served as their new base of operations, America had singled out one of the abandoned storefronts in the old city below for a weight room. Not for the first time since the Saints had begun to recoup their losses against the Samedi, Ronin, and Brotherhood, America passed an afternoon stripped down to a tight tank and booty shorts, working out. And not for the first time, Shaundi stood in the doorway, silently watching.

America dropped her barbell with a grunt, fixing her practiced intimidating stare on Shaundi. As usual, Shaundi didn't even budge. "You see somethin' interesting in here?"

Shaundi grinned, that lazy, stoner bullshit grin that made America want to throw her off the roof. "New tats."

America looked down at the various black Saints wings and sigils that adorned her caramel skin. "A few, yeah. That it?"

"Just a curisoity. Don't think I've ever seen a woman with that much muscle." America scowled, and Shaundi threw up her hands. "Hey, it's a good thing. I like a girl with a little muscle tone."

America rolled her eyes because that was the only response to Shaundi's flirting that didn't risk getting her in even more trouble. "Yeah, well, nothing like five years in a coma to make you want to take care of yourself. Besides, you spend all your time at that fancy-ass gym. Thought fucking was supposed to be this ultimate workout."

Shaundi just chuckled at the tone. "Yeah, but I gotta deal with the side-effects of 24-hour munchies."

America rolled her eyes again, then, realizing she likely wouldn't be getting her next set in for a while, stood. Shaundi looked interested, and after all, if she couldn't talk about this kind of thing with her only female lieutenant, then she was pretty well fucked.

"So...we just took over that Image as Designed in Union Square."

Shaundi groaned. "Yeah, I know, Pierce was boring the shit out of me earlier with some kind of earnings report or whatever."

America smiled for a second. "So I was thinking...what with the discount and shit, I might...get a boobjob."

America winced in anticipation as Shaundi gave a long look up and down her barely-clad body. Then, a slow grin rose on the stoner's face. "Yeah, I could see that. I mean no offense, but between the muscles and the hair, you do like a little less than girly." America's hand reflexively went to her short, spiked hair, the tips frosted Saints purple. "But mix in some big tits, I bet you'd look hot as fuck."

America huffed. "I gotta say, I was expecting some kind of beauty is on the inside, don't give in to society bullshit."

At that, Shaundi laughed. "Hey, don't let the dreads and the hacky-sack fool you, I don't got shit to say about what anyone else does with their body. Well, I mean, except to suggest the stuff they can do to mine with it."

America chuckled, but when she turned back, Shaundi was looking pensive. "Can I ask you something without you, like, shooting me?"

"If you gotta ask that first? No."

The brunette shook her head. "Fair enough."

"Look, Shaundi, just tell me what's up."

The stoner paused a moment longer, then laughed. "Look, I was just curious. I mean, you're kind of famous."

"Yeah, well, taking over the Saints was never my idea. I'd let Johnny do it if he wasn't such a fuckin' psycho."

"Yeah, not what I meant. Back in high school I used to hear about this one chick in the Saints who was like the city's official lesbian experiment. Like gettin' eaten out by you was some big milestone, and, well..." She shrugged. America never thought she'd actually see Shaundi blush. "By the time I was ready to experiment, you were in a coma."

America blinked. "Wh...are you saying you want me to..."

"No! Well, I mean, not no, I...fuck!" Shaundi punched the doorframe, then swore again as she cradled her hand. America thought she should go help, but that probably would have just made things weirder. "Look, can we just forget the whole thing?"

America shook her head, turning back to her weights with a scoff. "Yeah. Fine."

As Shaundi stepped back from the door, America raised her head. "You could do better," she threw over her shoulder.

She didn't see Shaundi's longing smile. "Boss, no one could."

And just like that, the brunette was gone.

America dropped to the bench with a shake of her head. Time, she decided, for a few more sets.