Hello All!

This is a longish author's note, but don't stop reading yet - In fact if you only read the author's note I'm okay with that. So to be quick, there was this pilot, Nikki & Nora, that only saw the light of day due to some sneaky person at Warner Bros. that leaked it. This unaired pilot's spawned a fairly decent following, and some amazing fanfic (docwho, pprbkwrtr, inspectorboxer, silk, to name a few) and these two ladies have been in my head since I first saw the episode that was ahead of it's time.

Now, as to why I'm taking you down a trip to Gushland over Nikki & Nora, well besides the near half million words that I've written for them, is that they are rebooting the show: The N&N Files (insert appropriately girly squeal of fangirlishness for days on end here).

BUT

They need some help, so they're soliciting donations...yinz know what I'm asking, and if I could, I'd queue up the Sarah McLauchlin-esque ASPCA sympathy to tug on the heart-strings, but really, if you've read any of what I've written for these amazing, totally not mine, characters, and enjoyed it or were entertained by it or moved by it, then I'm begging, give what you can donate at indiegogo dot com / projects/the-n-n-files?c=gallerylauchlin (fill in the dots).

In the interim, here's the start of an A.U. featuring these ladies...remember they're not mine...the fact that Nancylee Myatt hasn't hunted me down and taken away my computer is a testament to her awesomeness...so uh, help, I mentioned the begging and the fangirly squeal of squealy joy, and the begging, pretty sure I mentioned that, and help some ladies out...or help me out so I can see the characters come to life on the screen again.

I'm done rambling now...or begging, yep definitely begging...please and thank you!

Title: Near Life Experience

Disclaimer: Not my characters – except for one or two. The rest of the ladies and gentleman contained herein belong to entities with a higher pay grade. Thanks for allowing li'l ole me to play; I promise to return them as I found them…just like the tools I borrowed from dad when I was a kid. Also, this is unbeta'd so…mistakes are really all me. Sorry about that.

Fandom: Nikki & Nora

Pairing: Nikki/Nora

Rating: PG-13-ish, there are some adult concetps and themes, but nothing too over the top.

Summary: Nikki's not really "Nikki" and Nora's sings a differnt tune.

A/N: I've been absent. Between moving, a new job and a 6 hour commute for a month, it's been a bit crazy. Life's starting to right itself so I thought I'd get this up and running to motivate me more. Also it's psychomonkey_29's birthday. Happy birthday.

Aside from above, this story is an A.U.-like really A.U. The two aren't a working two and don't know each other, yet. Dan's still Nora's partner and Nikki, well, you'll see. Read, enjoy. Church has started so I'll be there.

Is This Where I End?

"Dan," I grumble half-heartedly as he passes a thick, no necked bouncer a ten and a twenty for the cover charge, "I can't believe you…"

In the darkened entryway, his smile is bright, infectious and illuminated by the black lighting lining the ceiling. "Come on, partner, you can't tell me that you've never been to one…"

"I didn't say that," I stop him and take a peek through the entryway. I mean, I've been to one or two. Took Bobby on his twenty-first, but I'm thirty-one. I thought this kind of stuff ended after you hit thirty.

He tugs at my jacket sleeve and pulls me the rest of the way through to the main floor, yelling over his shoulder, "Well then, Delaney, you can remove the stick you've got stuck up your ass for tonight. I promise, I won't tell anyone." I'm pulled to a booth with a 'reserved' marker on the table when a man in a suit approaches just as we settle down.

"Mr. Harney?" the guy asks Dan. Tall with a little pudge around the middle, a halo of light brown hair and a scar along the upper left half of his lip, I figure he's been working here a while.

"Hi," Dan greets and sticks out his hand.

The man takes the hand and says, "Geno, manager here at Rusty's. I'll have one of the waitresses swing by with your drinks. Anything in particular you'd like to start off with?"

Dan clamps a hand onto my shoulder and grins another one of his toothy, easy going smiles. The way his eyes crinkle tell me I'm in trouble. A lot of it. "Thanks, Geno. I think we'll start with a Confidence Builder for my partner, I'll take a Voodoo Dew and then two Officer Down's to start." He claps his hands together and amends, "Top shelf tonight. We're celebrating." He nudges me with his shoulder and tells Geno, "It's my girl's birthday."

"Wouldn't be the first girlfriend a guy's brought in," Geno says smiling eyeing me over a little closer.

I'm half tempted to flash the badge in my back pocket, but we're off duty and I'd rather not be treated any more different than being a girl in a strip club whose clientele base is mostly all male. Dan, being the white knight he was born to be, corrects the assumption. "She's my best friend. Her tastes in women match mine. We're celebrating."

"Ah, well, all right then." The manager's grin is a bit wider as he looks down at me. "I'll have those drinks brought out to you. Enjoy the show."

"You want to get me drunk?" I ask as I remove his hand and look around the club.

There are three stages set up at Rusty's. The main one is the largest. Formed like an 'I,' a strip comes out from the center of the middle stage and then extends out equally on the right and left sides; at the end of the bottom of the extensions are polls running from the floor to the ceiling. The other two stages are on either side of the main one back against the walls. Three polls on each are spread equally along their length.

There are dancers at both the smaller stages which just cause me to shake my head. "I still can't believe you brought me here."

Dan shrugs as a waitress comes up and sets four drinks down in front of us. Dan's drink is the color of Mountain Dew and my Confidence Builder is a dark amber due to the whiskey. The Officer Down's are in tall glasses garnished with an orange peel and lime wedge.

He raises his drink for a toast. Obligingly, I raise mine and clink them together. "Happy Birthday, Nora," he says before taking a healthy drink from his glass.

Sipping mine, the house lights dim and the music fades to whispering levels as an announcer comes on. "Get your money out and put your hands together for Deena White!"

I get a left elbow to the side as I see a roll of ones materialize from Dan's right pants pocket. Glaring at my partner, he just wiggles his eyebrows before peeling off a few of the ones to stuff in my hand. "Go," he has to lean in and shout over the rap being blared over the PA system.

I shake my head at him and give the money back. His brow furrows and he leans in, lips brushing my ear as he asks, "She's cute and has a nice rack. GO!"

I shake my head. "They're fake. So no. And, just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'll drool over every pretty face I see."

He shrugs and slides out of the booth. Turning to me he points a finger and declares loud enough to be heard over the music, "We will find you a girl tonight, partner. Mark my words!"

Rolling my eyes, I watch him spin around and take a spot at the foot of the main stage. Sometimes, being out isn't all that it's cracked up to be.

Although…I tilt my head to the side and watch Ms. White work her way across the stage, she isn't bad on the eyes either. Sighing, I take another healthy sip of my drink.

Two other dancers swing their hips out on to the smaller side stages and I sink back against the thick vinyl booth. It feels good to just kick back. We'd been swamped at work. A nice little skirmish between three rival gangs had left four dead and six wounded in set of shootouts. A night may be just what I need.

I watch the girls dance, occasionally, swinging my gaze to Dan. He's enjoying himself as the last song dies down and the girls start collecting their strips of clothing and money from the stage. My partner makes his way back to me where I've finished off my first and second drink.

"I've ordered another round," I tell a glistening Dan. "You up there dancing too?" I rib him.

His grin's maniacal as he shakes his head. "Nah, Deena's chest liked my pretty face." He shrugs. "Who'm I to deny that type of attention."

Laughing I look around at some of the other men's reflections of their faces pictured in the mirror lined walls sitting around the stages. I can't really disagree. Dan's pretty, really pretty for a guy and he is, hands down, one of the best looking men here tonight.

I keep my mouth shut, though. His ego's big enough for three of him. The waitress brings by our second round of cocktails just as the man in the booth behind the bar announces a Veronica Sawyer to the stage. The first strum of the guitar should be recognizable to anyone that's a fan of rock and roll. Ted Nugent's voice carries over the system and Yank Me, Crank Me's always brought a smile to my face.

The woman that…she struts on stage and I sit up straighter. I start with the four inch heels she has strapped to her feet, up smooth, shiny calves and strong lean muscled thighs. The swell of her hips is wrapped in a sparkly blue micro skirt. Her midriff is slightly covered in a red and white stripped vest. The skin visible is defined well enough to know that she spends a fair amount of time at the gym. Poking through the vest, I can see that her right breast is cupped with the same blue material as the skirt, but there are stars, bright and white covering it as well. The left breast is stripped in red and white. Her girls are pushed up and together, putting her ample cleavage on display, leaving my mouth dry and tacky.

Dan hisses, "If those aren't real, I'm wearing a dress to work."

I shake my head. Not taking that bet. Those are real and…

I lick my lips watching Ms. Sawyer swing her chestnut brown hair around and strut her stuff on stage.

"Miss, this way," the blue jean, black t-shirt wearing, long haired behemoth directs me behind a black velvet curtain, down a short hall lit only by one wall fixture with a low wattage bulb, past one door and into the only room on the right. The light there is just as dim, the fixture in the ceiling a chandelier controlled by a dimmer switch near the door.

I look to my grinning escort and he says, "The rules are simple, you touch only if they give you permission. If they don't, your hands don't leave the handles of that there chair. If at any time, you do not do what she says, she'll end it and come get me." He's still smiling when he finishes up, "If she comes to get me, fella or not, I'll break as many bones as I can before you pass out and dump you in the alley."

My right eyebrow goes up at the flippant delivery of a threat I'm sure he's made good on on more than one occasion. I hold my hands up, palms exposed to shoulder level and say, "I will do what I'm told, uh," I lick my lips and stammering, "scouts…well, not scouts, 'cause I wasn't one. Me and my brothers were at the Y a lot though."

The man points a finger at me, merriment dancing in pale blue eyes, "I'll take you at your word this time."

"I'd be appreciative," I say honestly. I'm not sure if I could take him down in a fair fight, but I know I could if I had to fight dirty. I just don't want to fight at all and will do exactly what I'm told, when I'm told.

He pretends to touch the brim of a hat he doesn't wear and shuts the door. Pulling in a deep breath, I spin on my left heel and let it out to take in the room I'm in. The only part of the area that isn't mirrored is the floor. It's black linoleum that's looked to have seen better days. There's a small stereo unit in the corner and my chair, which I eye. It's an aluminum folding chair with handles mounted on the sides.

I rub my palms flat on my thigh covered blue jeans and take a seat. The alcohol has had its desired effect. I'm not drunk, just pleasantly mellow and warm. Dan's kept me on the edge for most of the night, but before I came back here, we slammed a double of tequila that's just making itself known. If I were feeling any different, I may have just decked him for sending me back here for a private showing.

I hear footsteps right outside the door and look at the handle turn and a brunette head poke through. Her smile is flirtatious and fun. She's relaxed as the rest of her body slips through the narrow crack that she made. Her outfit's changed. Instead of the Stars and Stripes, she's covered this time in a black charmeuse robe that stops mid-thigh. Her stockings are a wide fishnet whose tops disappear under the bottom of her robe. Her long, toned legs are on full display. Her feet are covered in impossibly high heels with a thick platform sole.

My mouth goes gummy as I work my way back up her lithe form. I meet warm brown eyes and the wink she gives me knocks the breath back into my lungs. I gulp in a lungful of air, my hands gripping my thighs.

Her head tilts left. Her tone is honey and silk when she finally speaks, "I normally don't give private dances. Your boyfriend seemed to think I was worth the five bills he put down."

"Friend. He is. Not uhm…" I stammer wishing my brain would work properly so I didn't sound like a moron or like the idiot child of Yoda. I lick my lips and try again, "Dan, his name's Dan and he's only a friend." I point to myself and amend, "I'm gay, he's not a girl and uh, really not my type."

Her sculpted left eyebrow arcs and disappears under her long bangs. "Well," she clucks, her smile growing, "then it was awfully sweet of him, don't you agree, sug?"

I nod. I'm back to being a speechless and cottoned mouth mess.

"I don't usually get women either." She winks at me and I flush, burning hot as the blood in my body rushes to the surface. She giggles a girly sound, sauntering up to me, the tip of her finger slides along my jaw and she purrs, "You seem to be the sweetest creature though. I think I may just enjoy this."

"You don't…uh…usually?" I ask wondering why I can still feel the trail of her finger long after it's been withdrawn.

Looking me over, she decides on an answer. "If I were to tell you the truth, promise to keep it between us?"

I nod.

"The dancing, I love. The attention is just as amazing and the money is good, real good." She turns her back to me and from somewhere on her person, produces a small iPod shuffle. "I price my private sessions higher than most to discourage them." She turns the machine on and the first few bars of Lenny Kravitz's Fly Away fill our space. She spins to me and starts to undo the sash tying the robe together.

Stepping between my parted knees, her fingers clear the knot and drop the sash. I stop the robe from falling open and quickly tie the sash in a lose knot. Sweat beads along my forehead and I feel a line of it snake down my neck and continue along my spine. "You shouldn't then," I manage to squeak out and look up at her through my bangs.

Her heads bowed, looking down at me, a smile playing at the corner of her amazingly delectable lips.

I continue, trying my best not to offend her, "Not that I…it's just that if you don't want, then, I'm okay with…I mean, it's okay."

The corner of her eyes crinkle with the smile she gives me and she shakes her head. "No, I think I may just really enjoy this." Her fingertip taps the tip of my nose and then presses it down. "So, why don't you tell me what the special occasion is?"

I break eye contact and stare at her covered stomach. "My birthday. Dan thought I needed to…uhm…celebrate." I look back up as she moves from between my knees.

Pushing them together, she straddles my thighs and lowers herself down onto my lap. My hands find purchase on the supports for the back of the chair and her hands come to rest on my shoulders. "Hmm, well, happy birthday…" she trails off and looks to me expectantly.

"Uh, Nora," I get out quickly and then smirk. "I'd like to compliment you though, on your name, Ms. Sawyer."

Her eyebrows dance and her eyes, a deep brown with impossibly golden flecks, shine with merriment. "Well, Heather just seemed so overdone."

I can't help but laugh. "Of course it would."

Her hips start to undulate against me as another Kravitz song picks up, this one slower in tempo, sweet and melodic. She moves just as fluidly as she did on stage. More so, now, I think. "I think I'll enjoy being part of the celebration," she husks leaning into me, her nose brushing through my hair and sliding up the heated skin of my neck. I tilt my head to give her better access and feel her hands at my waist.

My eyes flutter close as her silk covered breasts press against my own. "Hey," she says gently, "you can look, you know." I open my eyes and look at her bare, except for the straps of her bra, shoulders. I make a tactical mistake and let my eyes travel south.

The rest of her is covered in a dark purple and black lace number. The tops of her breasts are sculpted to voluptuous globes and I swallow audibly. Looking past her chest, her midriff is bare. Her hips are covered by a matching garter and panty set; the strips for the garter strain down her muscular thighs and clip to the tops of the fishnet thigh highs.

I look back up as she leans down and brushes her lips along my chin and up my jaw. "Relax, sug, enjoy this. I know I am." Before her body starts to undulate in earnest, she says, "My Christian name is Nikki, by the way."

Oh, sweet, baby Jesus in a Christmas manger.