Batteries
Title: Batteries
Author: Lesliiiiiiii
Fandom: Bad Girls
Pairing: Lou/Pat
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 594
Disclaimer: I dont own any Bad Girls characters! Shed let me borrow them for the day.
She’s got this swagger, to her. This air of feistiness.
Deep down I’m sure she has a heart of gold, but naturally prison messes up a woman‘s mind. Christ knows, it has done to mine. It definitely has me thinking differently.
Let’s take Doctor Dunlop for instance.
Intelligent man. High profile Doctor, even if he is slumming it in HMP Larkhall with the rest of us misfits. Quite the charmer, and not that bad a looking charmer at that.
And all us girls know what they say about black men.
So, how is it that when I found out the rumour was actually true, I was thinking of someone else.
Ok, so every woman can relate to thinking of someone else will shagging the cutest of squeezes.
Brad Pitt.
George Clooney.
Johnny Depp.
But how many women would be able to say ‘Actually, I was fantasising about Winona Ryder’.
Or at least Larkhall’s answer to Ms Ryder, anyway.
Anyway, I’ve been here a week. Ok, a week and a bit if you want to get picky.
We’ve exchanged glances. Brushed past one another. Had the odd words passed from my lips to her ears and vice versa. We’re breathing the same smoke chocking cannabis infected air.
That’s all.
So why, please God, tell me why, does all of that turn me on so damn easily?
I’m actually surprised I’m turned on by anything after being slobbered on by a psycho, but there we are…
As I was saying….
Does lack of sleep make you horney? That’s damn serious question, and I really do need an answer. Does insomnia make you want the things you can’t have?
I could have her. If I wanted to. I think I have had her, actually - through those fleeting looks.
Let’s just say I went to my office very quickly afterwards last Tuesday… Had to enquire after some batteries for my… Torch.
That’s where the lovely Doctor Dunlop comes into it all. Oh dear. I can’t even say the word ‘come’ anymore without cracking a smile or biting my lip. That has got to be the lack of sleep…
Rowan is the next best thing. No, I can’t say he’s the best thing, because really, battery powered, draw sized, discreet items are a girls best friend. The diamond thing is just false advertising.
They just don’t build them with hands…
I’m a hand person. I like to be ‘felt’. I liked to be held, stroked, tickled, pinched and clawed…
Vibrators just don’t do that, do they?
I imagine her to be strong. I imagine her to be the type to take control in circumstances, and therefore, hopefully, be the dominant one in the bedroom.. Living room… Kitchen… Shower…
Not manly, exactly, but to have a certain strength.
So it’s easier to fantasise when you have hands. Strong hands. To grip you while you try desperately not to call out her name in ecstasy, and attempt in vain to humbly cry out his.
Damn the syllable difference between ‘Rowan’ and ‘Pat’.
Damn having to be in charge of her well being.
Damn having to act ‘professional’. You know, some women would just go for it, and due to their lively hood and choice in occupation, they would be being professional.
But then, they’d be on her side of the bars too.
So for now, multi-pack batteries and a Doctor’s trustworthy hands will have to do.
She’s got this swagger. This air of feistiness.
God knows what Joy will do to me if she finds me checking out her arse.