FanFic
Slow Burn/Fridget
Set 4 years after Franky's release from Wentworth. She is an up and coming barrister representing some of the women at Wentworth Prison, Boomer being one of them.
Bridget has just moved back to Melbourne from Sydney where she worked at Silverwater Correctional Centre, a high security prison and has since been appointed as Forensic Psychologist at Wentworth Prison.
Pyre
Franky Doyle was sitting on her Harley Davidson in the parking lot of Wentworth Prison, intently checking the messages on her iPhone for anything of urgency. She didn't look like what could be described as your stereotypical barrister. Dressed in tight black jeans, a black fitted t-shirt, black sunglasses, and black boots, the woman looked more like a figure out of a music video than someone who does pro- bono work with some of the inmates at Wentworth. Her choice of dress was calculated today, she was after all, going to prison and she, as well as any of the inmates knew, that prisoners don't respond well to people who look like Screws. Standing, bike between her legs, she stretches her arms over her head and arches her back. As much as she loves riding, a good stretch now and again is required to maintain a certain level of comfort. She grabs the black half-shell helmet that was sitting between her legs and pulls one leg over the bike seat as she stands to find her footing. Black sunglasses atop her head, Franky mounts her helmet to the back of her bike, steps to the left and opens her black leather saddle bag.
Bridget Westfall, Wentworth's new Forensic Psychologist maneuvers her BMW M4 sports coupe down the long driveway leading to the prison entrance. Although the posted speed limit is 40km, she is easily driving 64km and almost has to slam on brakes when approaching the many speed bumps that are placed along the driveway. She is in no hurry really, she still has 20 minutes before she needs to be in her office, but like many things pertaining to Bridget Westfall, even her driving is contradictory to her appearance. As she finally enters the parking lot she speeds past a dark figure bent over what can only be described as, "a bad-ass bike." Driving past an empty parking space, she hits the brakes of her sports coupe hard, slams the gear shift into reverse and quickly backs up the car, stopping at the open parking spot, she again hits the brakes hard and this time they screech against the concrete before she parks her car, nose first into the space. The sound of squealing car wheels gets Franky's attention as she absently looks up from rummaging through her saddle bag for her briefcase. "What a twat," she thinks to herself as she resumes gathering her things.
Bridget sits in her car and leafs through her bag looking for her small cosmetics bag. Finding her lipstick and mascara, she looks in the rearview mirror and applies the make-up to her lips and steely blue eyes. She has perfected the balance of wearing make-up without looking as though she's wearing make-up, just enough to accent certain features but not at the expense of overshadowing their natural beauty. Content with her appearance, Bridget stuffs her cosmetics back into her bag and emerges holding a small bottle of Prada perfume. Spraying a small amount of perfume on her wrists and the arc of her neck, Bridget feels ready to start her work day. Gathering her bag and tablet, she steps out of her car and swaggers across the parking lot. As she approaches a tall, slim figure standing in the near distance, she once again notices the Harley Davidson and can't resist the temptation to go have a closer look. Having a clear interest in bikes, as she herself used to ride and her brother owning one of the most exclusive custom shops in Melbourne, she walks over to the bike and what she has just become acutely aware of, it's beautiful owner, "Nice bike! Harley SuperLow, shorty exhaust with dual mufflers, 3750 rpm exhaust torque, Evolution engine, she's a real beaut."
Franky, standing there holding her brief case, mouth slightly open in awe, takes a step back, eyeballs the conservative looking petite blonde up and down and says through smiling lips, "Are you for fucking real?" and giggles a mischievous giggle.
Bridget smiles, inquisitively, squinting her eyes and tilting her head slightly as she extends her hand, "I'm Bridget Westfall, nice to meet you."
Franky reciprocates the gesture and is stunned by the strength in the small hand that is squeezing hers. "Franky Doyle. Wouldn't have pegged you for a biker," as she releases her grip.
" …..and why would that be?"
"Well look at ya, seem more like the BMW type," and with a shit eating smirk on her face, nods her head towards Bridget's pristinely polished black car.
Bridget giggles, shakes her head and realizes that she is enjoying the banter with this Franky Doyle. "Well, I'll have you know I used to ride all the time, matter of fact, I just recently moved back into the area and was thinking about picking it up again."
"You used to ride did ya, what's that a Honda Rebel 250?" laughing she looks the woman straight in the eye and with that, Franky became fully aware of the beauty of the woman standing in front of her. Blonde hair, pulled up tightly in the back, loose strands falling around the sides of her face and inside Franky couldn't help but think, "Where did this woman come from?"
"I said I liked BIKES, not scooters."
Franky found herself laughing at the retort, shifting from one foot to the other, thinking to herself, "Beautiful, smart, funny, and quick. Very nice combination indeed."
For a moment there was a silence that hung in the air between the two women. Looking straight at each other, smiling, it occurred to both women that although there was a period of silence, there was no discomfort in it, quite the contrary, it felt like two people making a connection.
"Well, Franky Doyle, I have to be running, don't want to be late for work," and with that
Bridget put a hand on her belly and made a downward motion on her jacket, as if wiping an invisible crumb. "I'll see ya 'round," and she turned to walk toward the entrance gates of Wentworth Prison.
"If you're lucky," Franky shot back.
Bridget stopped, smiled, and turned slightly to see the dark haired beauty standing there smiling, her tongue resting on her bottom lip and giggling an impish giggle that Bridget found delightful.
One last shake of the head and Bridget continued her ascent up the slight incline that lead to the gates of Wentworth.
Standing in the parking lot, Franky watched Bridget as she strutted toward the gates and she found that she was grinning like a school girl at the sight of the tiny woman walking with such confidence, regal in the way she carried herself and she heard herself say, "For fuck's sake, who is that woman?"
