Bridget Westfall and Franky Doyle stood together in the middle of a bookshelf in Wentworth's library. For anyone else's point of view- if they happened to walk past, they'd be too close for comfort. But for them, it wasn't close enough. Although the well-respected Psychiatrist would never let Franky know that's how she felt… or would she?
"Franky…" Bridget sighed, looking down. "We can't keep doing this. I have a responsibility to keep this relationship… professional."
Franky slid her hand up the Psychiatrist's waist gently, lingering around the waistband of her black pants, "That's not what you want though is it?" This earned a very quiet, almost inaudible moan from Bridget.
"What I want is irrelevant," Bridget replied, softly.
"Not to me it isn't," Franky retorted.
Bridget shifted her weight onto her other foot and looked around over her shoulder, "Please Franky, I can't."
"Gidget," Franky eased in a hushed voice. "I need to know."
The blonde looked up and exhaled, "What are you doing to me?"
Franky smirked and moved in closer, placing her hand on Bridget's waist again. "Are you admitting I have an effect on you?"
"No," Bridget challenged, folding her arms.
The hand that rested on Bridget's waist slowly made it's way down her thigh. "Are you sure?"
Bridget cleared her throat, "Franky…"
"Yes?" Franky said innocently, moving her hand closer between the Psychiatrist's thighs.
Remembering where they were, Bridget looked over her shoulder again to see if anyone was near. But the library was empty.
Although she knew this interaction was highly inappropriate to say the least, she was paralysed. Franky had won. She was under her control.
Bridget's eyes returned to stare back into Franky's, but didn't stay long once Franky's hand ventured closer to the apex of her thighs. "I can't… I can't do this," the blonde woman muttered lamely, before her eyes fluttered shut.
Franky gently pushed her against the bookshelf, "Are you going to tell me yet?" Encouraging a reply, she slowly returned her hand back to Bridget's waist.
With a groan of frustration, Bridget rubbed at her temple and stared at Franky, "I have feelings for you. Okay? I've been trying to hard to keep my integrity and professionalism but you have this power of me. It's fucking with my head!"
Franky let out a breath that she didn't realise she was holding in and crashed her lips onto Bridget's. Taken aback, the blonde stumbled against the bookshelf again, nearly knocking over a few books. But instantly moved her lips in sync with the ones on hers.