Disclaimer: I do not own Cursed nor its characters. They belong to Wes Craven, Kevin Williamson, Dimension Films, and whoever else.
Note/Warning: Because frankly, Joanie doesn't get enough love. XD
A She-Wolf in Hollywood
The first time was a real bitch. But then it was the same for sex. After the first time – the initial pain of something new and foreign and life-altering – it wasn't so bad. Took some adjusting, but it wasn't long before she realized that – like sex – she enjoyed it.
Maybe even more than the sexual encounter that had passed on this unusual STD on beneficial steroids.
Not that she hadn't enjoyed that encounter. Not that she hadn't enjoyed being the one he'd gone home with that particular time. No, she'd enjoyed that wild night tumbling all over the floor; her tastes had been a little kinky even before those infectious love bites. Liquor and the natural heat of the night led things down a rough path, and her nails had bitten into his skin as well. Even then she liked the flavor of his copper on her fingertips.
The morning after…well, the hangover, soreness, and the finality of Jake's detached goodbye had been a lot more painful than the hangover and soreness the morning after her first full moon.
Joanie had never been overly insecure. She liked to think she was self-aware. She knew she wasn't a bombshell. She was an agent, not an actress. But she was fit, she had great hair, and she had confidence. She was good at her job without having to prostitute herself out for her clients. She could play nice, and she'd never been afraid to let the claws come out – figuratively.
But if she was being honest with herself, she hadn't really thought she'd get Jake's attention at first. She'd worked hard for it, competing with each of the prettier, daintier, and far more vapid girls to catch his eye. She'd been thrilled when it had paid off – and then, of course, it ended as quickly as it began.
That had been quite the blow. Then the changes started.
She'd handled it fairly well, she liked to think. Of course, she didn't have much to go on, nothing to compare it to. Unless one counted the various movies she'd seen, but Joanie had never actually seen a werewolf movie all the way through, so even those couldn't be used for comparison. She'd of course been thrown for quite the loop – almost a week of early PMS leading right up to one helluva night she couldn't remember even the foggiest details of.
But she'd woken up in a park, nude, covered in blood, and there were still furry chunks of flesh between her canines. Joanie had a firm grasp on reality, and was a clever girl – had to be a quick thinker to survive in Hollywood – so it hadn't taken her too long to figure out what was going on.
Actually believing it, on the other hand…hadn't really taken that long. She'd found a silver piece of jewelry and tested her theory out. Sizzling, singed fingers, and viola. She started wrapping her brain around the impossibility that she was a werewolf.
It was scary. Freaky. Unnerving in the sense that it made her completely reevaluate everything she'd believed in. But Joanie was a survivor, and survivors adapt. She stopped questioning her sanity and having self-pity parties that moped about beliefs – what few she had – being shattered and moved on to more important things.
Like who the fuck was the werewolf that turned her?
Well, that list was short. She was selective with sexual partners, and most failed to live up to her rougher tastes, so that narrowed it down to one.
Jake Taylor.
Of fucking course. She wasn't really all that surprised. It explained a lot. It also brought up more questions – the main one being, why weren't there even more rough sex victims running around on all fours every full moon? It was obvious the guy got around, but she hadn't heard any news about people getting mauled by some unknown creature.
It was a couple of months after her first full moon when she decided to start tracking him on those nights. Control came even more swiftly when she started liking those moments, and she was finding herself awake and aware after the sweet pain of transformation. She and this new animal side of her thought very much alike, too – they both wanted Jake, and they both wanted to know if there were any other females to worry about and who they were.
Strangely, though, they never found him with companions. When she tried sniffing out others like her, tracking down the girls she'd seen him with on various occasions, they smelled as ordinary and fake as the hundreds of girls Jake hadn't fucked yet. Not that she and Jake had very obvious scents, but she'd memorized what was similar in his scent and hers. She hadn't caught it in any of his other acquaintances.
That realization had gone straight to her head. Joanie couldn't help but feel that she had bragging rights if she was the only one he'd let himself get too rough with. She might not have been an intended victim, but it'd happened only with her all the same. She relished the change even more after that fact came to light.
The wolf wanted to preen the next full moon. She would have, too, if not for seeing Jake with yet another bimbo. Brunette, brainless, and bronzed – dyed, naturally, and cheaply done – as were most of the others.
The wolf preened inwardly and seethed silently at once. Joanie realized she was one of the few blondes on Jake's bedpost, but there was still the issue that Jake refused to see that she was the perfect – and only – candidate for his mate.
Men. Males. They were idiots and completely blind to what they really needed, no matter what the species.
Oh, well. Joanie had never been one to back down, and she wasn't about to start now. No, not now; he was unclaimed, and she was a loose bitch in heat. She'd handle the situation like any ambitious female – in the animal kingdom or the jungles of stardom – would.
All's fair in love and war, as they liked to say in the movies.
