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Wes Janson's How to Talk to Women 101
Part Two
by Commander Wedge



Wes sighed and pulled a tissue from the box by his bed. Sitting down next to Wedge, he handed it to his best friend, taking him in a brotherly embrace. "No, Wedge, of course I still want to be your friend and as your friend, I want to help you." Wes let out a breath, "But now that you have told me this, boy, do I have a lot of work to do." Wes got off the bed and went over to the small closet. He dug around in the bottom and pulled out a fire-safe box with a lock on it.

Pulling a set of keys out of his pocket, he unlocked it and pulled out a dog-eared, over-read worn-out book. The title of it was The Enchantment, Fun and Pleasure of Sex. "It really is a great book. I guess not to an eight year old, however, but to a teenager budding into puberty, it was a great read." He set it in front of Wedge on the bed. "I know you are probably not ready to jump in with both feet, but it's here if you ever get curious again."

Wes paced in the tiny quarters. "Where to begin..." he muttered to himself. "Ah yes. The beginning. Wedge, when you want to approach a woman and talk to her, image is everything. You must look good, and you must look like you know that you look good. A woman typically goes on her first impression, gut instinct. So to catch the woman, you must catch her eye. You follow," he asked, moving over to the closet again.

Without waiting for a reply, he opened the closet door and looked at Wedge's clothes. Pushing aside the pilot's jumpsuits, the BDU's, the zippered bag with the dress uniform in it, he was searching for anything resembling civilian clothes. "Wedge, do you even own a pair of slacks and a shirt other than what you are wearing right now? Granted, some women love the look of a man in uniform, but we want to start you out casual, that way you do not have so big of an image to live up to." Wes turned to Wedge. "Well? Civilian clothes? Or do we have to go shopping?"

Wedge swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, “Yes Wes, I have some civilian clothes,” he said as he turned to the small chest of drawers that sat between his bed and Wes’s – one just like the other two in the room – the ones where the three young pilots kept their personal and non-military items. Opening the bottom drawer, Wedge pulled out a pair of black jeans, a steel-blue pullover sweater and a blue-grey short-sleeved T-shirt, all of which looked almost brand new having seen very little wear by their owner. “How are these – they are all I have other than my Stega hide jacket and my flight jacket – ever since joining the Rebellion, I haven ’t found much use for anything other than my flightsuit and uniforms.”

While Wedge waited for Janson to look over his meager collection of clothes he pick up the book Wes had set down on his bed and began to open it – quickly he set it down on Wes’s bed, “Ah, maybe later, Wes.”

Wes examined the clothing that Wedge pulled out of his drawer. "Hmm…" he said. Picking up the book he laid in front of Wedge, Wes flipped through a few pages, then placed the book back in the chest in the closet. "Ok, no problem with the book. You need to learn how in the hell to say ‘Hi’ first, before you ever get to the sex part. Now, as for these clothes." Wes turned back to the clothing, and held up each piece individually, "The jeans are perfect, but you may want to go for some khaki and black slacks, for a more dressy casual look. The sweater is good, it matches your eyes, which is a plus with most women, most go for guys with great eyes, and I will have to admit, Wedge, and don't take this the wrong way, you have very pretty eyes. The t-shirt, well, is ok, you need to wear an undershirt, and lots of guys wear a plain t-shirt like that. Ok. So, you have one, maybe two, outfits. That's a good start."

Wes folded the clothes neatly again and placed them in the drawer. "I need to drag you shopping with me, but I know money is tight, the Rebellion can't afford to pay us much. For now, you can wear my clothes. The shirts may be a bit large in the shoulders, cause mine are broader then yours, but they will do for now."

Wes stood in front of Wedge and crossed his arms. "OK. Lesson number One. How to got up to a woman and say ‘hi’. It's not difficult. What we're gonna do is, you're going to practice with me, and then I'm going to find a female and you can practice on her. OK? Well, not like you have a choice." Wes dug around in the back of the closet again. He produced a long blonde wig. "Don't ask where I got this, it was something we did back with the Tierfon Aces." Placing it on his head, he sat down in a chair.

"Ok. Pretend that I am a girl, and you think I am cute and you want to come up and say hi. OK... go," Wes said.

Wedge gave Wes a very curious look when he said that the Corellian pilot’s pullover matched his eyes then blushed furiously at the comment about him having pretty eyes, “Ah, Wes, how do you figure my sweater matches my eyes - I have dark brown eyes and my sweater is steel-blue – or am I just missing something,” Wedge asked before continuing, “I’m not sure though about wearing your clothes though – I know that other than across the chest and shoulders we are the same size but…I don’t know,” Wedge said while looking down at his feet.

The younger pilot looked up when he heard Wes rummage around in his closet and then put on a blonde wig – he tried to hold back a laugh but only partially succeeded, “Wes, I know that they say ‘Blondes have more fun’ but that is just not you!” Wedge watched as Wes affixed the wig over his dark hair and sat at the chair he had pulled up from his desk and placed at the foot of Wedge’s bunk. “What I mean by the sweater matching your eyes is that the color really brings out their softness and makes their color all that more alluring.”

‘Oh.” Wedge stood up straighter and steeled his spine, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat he managed to gasp out, “Ok,” and began to approach Wes. In a soft, shy voice, “Hi there, m-m-may I-I-I buy y-you a-a-a-a d-d-drink? M-M-My n-n-nam-me is Wedge. If n-n-not, th-th-that’s ok,” he finished as he looked down at the floor and his boots before looking back up at Wes, “So, how was that?” His face felt flushed and warm, his heart pounding as though he had been in a dogfight with the Imps, “I don’t think I did too well, did I?”

Wes sighed. "Wedge, you are my best friend. You are practically my brother but boy, that sucked - I mean, the words were great, but the presentation is severely lacking. The order is a little off too but we'll work on that. You just need to watch a master at work." He pulled the wig from his head, tossed it back into the closet and ran fingers through his thick hair to straighten it out.

Wedge continued, “Can we put this off for a bit – you said something about going shopping – and although I hate shopping, I think I would find it preferable to this right now – I have some money: Booster Terrik sends me an allowance every month from a trust fund set up for me by my parents when I was born – that I bank, combined with what I have left from the insurance money, what I saved while hauling freight and the reward for blowing up that pirate ship and since we never really get any leave to spend it on I have saved up about 100,000 credits so we don’t have to worry about money and it will give you a chance to help me try saying hi to a real girl.” Wedge waited for his friend’s reply.

"You have that many credits? Why haven’t you ever said anything – you never spend any except when we go drinking so I just figured you were as broke as the rest of us – besides, most people with those kinds of credits at their disposal usually flaunt it.” Shrugging his shoulders as it dawned on him who he was talking to – the most unassuming person in their squadron, “OK. We can do that." Wes glanced down at his wrist chrono, "The good shops will be opening in a few hours." Yawning, "I just need about two hours of sleep, a shower and something to eat. My stomach is threatening to mutiny if I don't put food in it soon." His stomach growled as if to accent his point. Wes sighed, "Does that sound ok to you, Wedge? I am about to zonk out here anyway, I can't shop half-asleep." Wes yawned again, and started to head for the 'fresher, pulling off his shirt revealing well-muscled shoulders and abs.

“Yeah, some sleep does sound good right about now,” Wedge agreed with his friend as he stretched his shoulder and back muscles before sitting down on his bunk – sighing softly with a bit of yearning rushing through his body, Wedge watched Wes intently from under his eyelashes as his friend striped off his shirt revealing his muscular body and six-pack abs knowing that Wes would never be interested in him. Wedge was just as strong as Wes but he lacked the body muscle definition of his friend – his body looked like he had just entered puberty and it always would, Wedge knew that without being told. As soon as Wedge heard Wes start the water for his shower, he striped, pulled on a pair of sleep pants and settled back on his bunk to wait his turn in the ‘fresher.

Wes pulled the door shut behind him and locked it. He pulled off his dirty pants and tossed them in the corner. He stretched, sinewy muscles rippling with every twist and bend. It had been a rather long and stressful day. It started when he and Wedge took Luke to the Cantina, where later in the evening he was kissed passionately by the man that was practically his brother.

Wes turned on the water as hot as he could possibly stand it and stepped it. The steam built up in the small 'fresher, fogging up the small mirror and the doors of the shower stall. He stuck his head under the spray, soaking his head. The water ran down his face, chest and legs, pooling at his feet. He grabbed the bar of soap and lathered up.

He rinsed his body off, and then turned off the water. He opened the door a smidge and peeked out, half expecting Wedge to be standing there, watching him. Wes noticed that all night, Wedge had never taken his eyes off him - watching, examining, pondering. Wes didn't know what was running through the young Corellian pilot's head, he wasn’t even sure if Wedge knew that he was watching.

Wes sighed, stepped out, grabbed a towel, wiped off the mirror and then dried himself off. He examined his physique, carefully toned, kept slender and powerful. Sighing with contentment at his appearance, Wes pulled on a clean pair of pants, tossed his towel in the corner with his other pants and exited the 'fresher.

Wedge was still sitting on the bed where he had been when Wes started his shower. Wes eyed him, and crossed the room to his own bunk, where he pulled back the covers, slid under them and pulled them back over his head, settling it onto the thin pillow.

"G'night, Antilles. Plan to wake up around 1000 hours. Then we'll hit the mess for grub and head out to the shops." Wes mumbled, already half-asleep.

Wedge was still sitting on his bunk, but now he had his blankets pulled up under his chin ready for bed, when Wes emerged from the ‘fresher and his shower: Wedge’s eyes were closed and he appeared to be asleep but in actuality he was watching Wes through his eyelashes. While Wes was in the shower, Wedge had been doing some hard thinking and he still could not place his finger on why, all of a sudden, he was fascinated by Wes – he had always been attracted to women even if he was too shy and scared to say something to them – and this unexpected attraction to his best friend disturbed him.

Wes was his oldest, closest and dearest friend - a man who was closer to him than any brother could ever be – and, in fact, many people outside the squadron often mistook them for brothers. Wedge took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through clenched teeth, then replied to Wes, “’Night Janson,” as he scrunched down under the covers on his bunk and rolled over to his side so that his back was to Wes: he spent a restless night filled with dreams that scared the Sith out of him - of Wes holding him close, stroking his hair, much as his mother had done with he was a small boy, and speaking/whispering in a soft soothing voice reassuring Wedge that everything was going to all right – that he was going to ‘make it’ – whatever that was suppose to mean – and that he would never let anyone get close enough to Wedge to let ‘it’ happen again if he could help it – ‘Wes is here now ready to protect you’ Janson kept repeating. Wedge woke up several times during the night in a cold sweat taking an hour or more to settle back down enough to go back to sleep only to be haunted by the same dreams.

Continue in Part Three