this is the first chapter of a multi-chapter story. i don't usually write things like this...but oh well. Anyway, this is going to be updated as often as possible, along with my three other multi-chapter stories (they all start with M, strangely enough, though this one doesn't). make what you want of it...

Joanne hurried down the street, her footsteps quick and nervous. Clouds ballooned out from her mouth as she panted with nerves and the effort of moving so fast. Her bag slapped against her leg, and the click of her heels echoed crazily in her ears. But it was her entire body that was buzzing with this electricity; this charge…Joanne was almost high on it. And at the same time, it made her sick.

She reached the front of her building and walked inside, the door squeaking slightly as she opened it. Joanne did the automatic check for mail, found nothing, and hurried up the stairs to her apartment door. She reached into her pocket for the key. It wasn't there. Joanne began to freak out, frantically digging around in her pockets until she found the key, tucked into a low corner of the stitching. She drew it out and erratically stuffed it in the keyhole. It was several moments before her hands stopped shaking and she could unlock the door.

Joanne moved inside and dropped her bag on the ground, not bothering to hang it up on its little hook. Instead, she kicked off her shoes, ran into the bedroom, and flung herself onto the bed. She lay on her back, staring up at the spider web cracks in the ceiling and trying desperately to convince herself that she wasn't just as big a bitch as those she had always despised.

Maureen wasn't perfect, far from it. She wouldn't hesitate to flirt or go for broke with the first girl or boy who came along. That justified it, right? That made it okay…Joanne ground her teeth together. Any way you went about it, she was the most disgusting, horrible hypocrite in the world, and she couldn't lie to herself or anyone else. But it had felt good, so damn good…as though for once, Joanne Jefferson was being the scumbag instead of someone else. She wasn't just the family disappointment now; she was worse, and part of her liked it that way. Let the rest of them hate her. She had the last three hours to remind her that she was not a good girl anymore.

She sighed and trailed a hand across the front of her shirt. Something didn't feel right…she sat up and looked down at her chest. One of the buttons was in the wrong hole, and the shirt was doubled up. Cursing, she ran to the bathroom and stared into the mirror, trembling hands undoing the errant button. It was her fault; too caught up in the adrenaline high to notice she hadn't done her shirt up right. But Maya could have told her, at least. She could have pointed out that Joanne looked like an idiot.

Joanne fastened the button correctly, then tiredly looked herself up and down in the mirror. She checked over her face and neck; no lipstick stains, no obvious hickies or bite marks...She was safe there. Joanne turned on the cold water and splashed her face and hair with it, as though trying to wash out the smell of bed sheets and perfume and heat. She toweled dry, redid her hair, and brushed down her clothes. There. The normal look of normal Joanne after a normal day at work.

Yeah right. Joanne sighed and went to start dinner. Maybe if she relaxed her nerves by cooking the Ramen pasta that both she and Maureen loved, she might be able to appear slightly less jumpy when Maureen got home.

That happened to be a maybe twenty minutes later. Joanne was just pouring the Ramen into bowls when she heard the front door open. It startled her so badly that she dropped the pot holding the noodles. It crashed to the floor, making a loud bang and splashing pasta and broth everywhere. Joanne shrieked and jumped back, nearly killing herself as she slipped on the broth.

"Pookie?" came the concerned inquiry from the hall. Maureen ran in, still wearing her coat and hat. She gasped when she saw the Ramen and pot on the floor; accompanied by the Ramen-spattered Joanne who was leaning against the counter, panting.

"Oh my god, Pookie, what happened?" she asked, hurrying over to Joanne. She wiped the hot soup and pasta off Joanne as best she could and took her hands, Maureen's chilled fingers holding Joanne's warm ones tightly.

"Pookie, did I scare you?" she asked gently. Joanne nodded stiffly. Maureen sighed.

"Hard day, I bet. Here, let's clean this up and get some more going. No, not you! Go and take off that shirt. Change into something that's not soaked in chicken-flavored water. Maybe," Maureen added, looking up at Joanne from the floor that she was crouched on, "we can both get around to taking our shirts off later." She winked and began to mop up the Ramen with her coat. Joanne stumbled off to the bedroom, silently swearing at herself. Great, Joanne, great. Keep spazzing like that and Maureen will know something's up right away. Even she's not that thick…But as Joanne slipped out of her soup-splashed shirt and threw on a sweatshirt, she began wishing that Maureen wasn't being so nice. It made it so much harder to live with what she had done.

When she got back, Maureen had cleaned up the Ramen and the floor. She had already started a new pot of water boiling, and it heated on the stove. Her coat had been laid over the back of a chair, and she was wearing one of her favorite velvety shirts, the blue-grey one with long sleeves. Her hair was back in a twist, and her legs were beautifully outlined by her jeans. She looked beautiful.

"There you go, Pookie! You look nice. Now, tell me about your day while that stuff heats up." She drew out two chairs at the small table and sat in one, cheerfully looking up at Joanne. Joanne gulped and took the other seat. It was as though Maureen knew…but she couldn't.

"Um…nothing happened, really. Same old, same old. Yup, just an everyday kind of day…" Joanne laughed too loudly. Blinking, she asked Maureen how her day had been. Maureen launched into a long, detailed narrative about how she walked all the avenues in alphabetical order three times. Joanne tried to smile and look attentive, but it just wasn't working. Guilt was boiling in the pit of her stomach, and no amount of adrenaline could quell it. Joanne was a shmuck. Worse than that.

She was a cheater.

eesh. i don't like Joanne too much right now myself. but i DO love Ramen!