Turn It Up
S J Smith

Summary: …The devil went down to Georgia…well, okay, not really.

Disclaimer: Trust me, I'm not. Really. For either of these fandoms.

Rating: Teen? Maybe?

A.N.: Written for TinHutLady, who gave me the prompts of "Heat" and Daisy Duke. Yeah….


That girl sure knew how to turn up the heat. It was a good thing this out of the way bar was air conditioned - and, okay, I was still trying to figure out how it stayed air conditioned, considering Carlos and I were in the bar, together. I think the a.c. was the only thing electric in the whole place, though; everything else seemed to be hand cranked or something.

"Madre de Dios," Carlos swallowed noisily as the brunette flashed those legs and a killer smile, hip bumping a dark-haired man's shoulder.

Okay, so I didn't have a real working relationship with God but yeah, I agreed with Carlos' sentiment. Whatever had conspired to make that young woman look like that...well, I could certainly get behind a creator with that sort of insight.

She made her way over to us, a long, slow prowl that promised a helluva lot of things, tight, high shorts painted onto her thighs and a top that covered everything but gave the impression that there could be a wardrobe malfunction just waiting to happen. "Hey, ya'll. Haven't seen you two around here before."

That much was obvious. Georgia. The sticks of Georgia. Carlos started whistling Dueling Banjos once we crossed the state line. From the way some of the guys in the bar were looking at us, I wasn't sure someone wouldn't tell one of us we 'sure had a purty mouth.' While I placed an order for a couple of beers, Carlos said something about our cover story, which made the pretty brunette's eyebrows reach for her bangs.

"Well, if you two are gonna be out roaming around Hazzard," she leaned closer and her shirt did some interesting things with that change of gravity. I had to fight to keep my eyes on hers. "Be careful." Her voice lowered some. "Folks around here, they stick to the old ways. And you two fellas, you could be revenuers and if you don't watch out, you could wind up with a load of buckshot where it hurts." Straightening back up, she took our orders and prowled off. This time, I didn't fight it at all and fairly ogled her. Not that anyone else in the bar wasn't.

"Madre de Dios," Carlos breathed again.

"Amen, brother."