Disclaimer: I do not own S.E Hinton's characters or her story world. I also do not own Bob Seger's song, "Her Strut."

"This fic/chapter is being posted as part of "Good Fic Day," an effort to raise the quality of writing here. We hope to encourage more writers to improve the quality of their own fan fiction - spell check, grammar check, keep the gang in character, outline, plot and don't use Mary Sues. Good fan fiction requires effort, and we would like to encourage other writers to rise to the challenge of producing better fan fiction, not only for our readers, but for S.E. Hinton, who created the wonderful book we are trying to honor." -Well put Mars.

This one shot corresponds to chapter 25 of Tender is the Night. I am one half of A Sideways Smile, and I have permission to use it's plot and original characters.

She's totally committed to major independence,
But she's a lady through and through

They were short, capri length, but they were tight and black. The blouse was her Sunday best, but when the ends were tied up right at her waist, she knew she didn't belong within ten square miles of any church in Tulsa.

She sat down on the powderpuff cushion of her vanity stool and looked at herself in the mirror. Shoulder length blonde hair was curly, naturally of course, tame but wild all at once.

Checking her make up, she reached for the tube of lipstick and touched up the bright red already applied to her lips. Pouting at her reflection, she gave herself a wink and swirled around in the chair and scanned her tiny bedroom for the final touch. Digging under a pile of discarded ensembles for the night, she found them.

Bright red and patent leather, she set her foot into the right one and then into the left. They resembled, at least what she imagined, a pair of shoes a street walker might wear, but she loved them. They gave her height and they made her long legs look all the more long and lean and they were actually comfortable. They were killer heels and she had a killer plan to unleash tonight.

Dally wouldn't be able to say the word 'no' when he saw her, and she knew it. It had taken him awhile before, but this was getting ridiculous. It had been months and he had barely batted an eye her direction. She thought dating Will Bridges would ruffle his feathers enough to get him to ride in and force her away from him, but she was in for more than she bargained for. Will was rough, mean even, and Dally was carting that girl around as though she'd never existed. He always took her back, and she'd be damned if that little sweetheart he was dating was going to keep her from getting her nails back into his flesh. Dally was hers and he had always been hers, and tonight, she was taking back her property.

XXX

The door pushed open, banging against the wall like she knew it would. It was loud and it turned heads so that everyone all at once knew she had walked into the joint. Still standing in the doorway, she fluffed her hair and looked around, keeping her expression bored.

The party was already in full swing, but she was drawing attention to herself like a moth to a flame. As she sashayed across the makeshift dance floor, walking between couples, firing off wicked grins when the girls bitched and the guys stayed silent. Most girls were jealous. Jealous of her curves, her hair, her ways. She wasn't afraid of any of it and those girls were terrified. But as she made eyes at Todd Howell, one of Shepard's boys, a his girlfriend clung closer to him, grabbing his face in her hand and focusing his attention back on her. Those girls were terrified of her because their boys were looking at her and they liked what they saw.

There wasn't a single open stool at the bar and not a single one of those occupied stools had Dallas sitting on them. She stood back from the crowd, scanning for a head that was ungreased and a blinding white. She saw neither, but someone saw her.

"You look like you're itchin' to get your claws into someone tonight."

She whipped her head around, tossing her curls, staring daggers at Tim Shepard.

"Might be the case," she said, sounding bored and studying her nails.

"Yeah, I'll bet it's the case," he said, cock sure.

Sylvia knew what he was implying, but she didn't mind. It was better to be out living life than to be holed up in her bedroom all the time. Besides, she wasn't inclined to care what he thought when he wasn't inclined to do anything for her.

"You seen Dally around tonight?" she asked. Buck laid a bottle of beer on the bar for Tim and she slid her hand in and grabbed it before he had a chance to. She smiled as she sipped from the long neck and saw the annoyance in Tim's eyes.

"I haven't seen him yet, but last I checked he's got a pair of legs wrapped round him at the moment," he said, signalling for a bar tender.

"Hmmm, well, I'm willin' to bet she won't show after what went on the other night," she said confidently. "Besides, Dal's getting pretty bored with her."

"So you think he's going to come crawlin' back to you? Aren't you banging Bridges?" he asked, coarsely.

"I was, but he's a real sonufabitch," she said.

"Yeah, and Dal's a real prince," he said, growing impatient with the lack of service and reaching over the bar and pulling a bottle out of the ice chest on the otherside. "Play fair now. I think Ellie's a little new to the game."

"What game?" she said. "He was mine from the start. He just felt sorry for her is all. He's got control issues and I'm willin' to bet that she ain't one to play rough where it counts. And I know from experience that Dal likes it rough."

His lip curled and he put the bottle to his lips and took a long drink.

"There are somethings I really don't need to know," he said.

"Then fuck off," she snapped. She didn't need anyone telling her she was a whore or anything else. She made it a point to not let anyone get to her; it was stupid to feel inferior and her father did a hell of a job trying to break her spirit. No one was going to get the benefit of knocking her off of her pedestal.

"Not a problem," he said, nonchalantly, sauntering off toward a booth in the corner.

"Bastard," she said under her breath.

XXX

The door opened for the thirty-third time and for the first time the person she was looking for walked through it. Alone.

"Bingo," she whispered to herself.

She didn't move, instead she watched him meander through the throngs of people, no one attached to him. He pushed right through the middle of a group of Shepard boys and made his way to the end of the bar. Grabbing some guy by the collar, he found himself a seat. Not waiting for someone to wait on him, he leaned over the bar and helped himself to a beer.

He looked pissed off, not that that was a foreign emotion for him, but Sylvia knew enough that she had to proceed with caution. She had to either hit him where it hurt, or offer what ever it was he needed. She was hoping he was needy.

Carefully, she snuck up behind him, sliding her arms around his middle and putting her face close to his ear.

"Looks like somebody's pretty lonesome tonight," she whispered in his ear.

He turned his head to get a better look at her, but he didn't shrug her away. She nipped his earlobe and pressed her face closer to his, making sure he could feel her breath on face.

"Can't imagine that's sitting so well," she said.

His hand clamped down on her wrist and he yanked her away roughly. She laughed at his efforts and backed up against the bar, fitting snugly between him and some other guy.

Settled in, she stared at him, her eyes narrowed, her lips pouty.

"What?" he snapped.

Shrugging, she crossed her arms, breaching the capacity of her blouse and drawing attention to her chest. He tipped his bottle back and she didn't miss the way his cold eyes took a dive down her blouse. She snickered to herself. The boy was putty in her hands.

Leaning on the bar, she trailed her nails up and down his arm, watching the hairs stand on end.

"Where's your little girlfriend?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Not here," he said.

"I can see that," she replied. "How come?"

"'Cause she ain't here," he said, pulling his arm out from under hers. Looking around, he reached over and helped himself to another beer. Sitting back, he looked at her and rolled his eyes, "Want one?"

A mischievous smile spread across her lips.

"Tim already bought me one," she said, looking bored.

Dallas Winston was a jealous son of a bitch.

"Shepard? What the fuck for?"

"He just did. You know, girl sittin' here by herself is pretty likely to get picked up," she said, sliding herself between him and the bar. The stool scooted out slightly and she straddled his left leg.

"You going to do something about it?" she asked. "'Cause Tim Shepard ain't the one I want buying me drinks."

"Where's Bridges?" he said with a scowl, turning around on his stool. She moved with him.

"Oh, Dal, I broke it off with him," she said. "I needed a man and he just wanted to act like a little boy. And the way I see it, you an' I are in quite the predicament."

He cocked his head to the side and looked her up and down.

"And what would that be?" he asked, taking a long drink.

"You got yourself a little girl when what you really need is a woman, Dallas," she said, leaning close to him, resting her hands on his thighs and giving him a playful smile when he flinched at her touch. "Oh, looks like I'm right."

"Keep dreamin', honey," he said, picking her hands off. Buck walked by and Dally flagged him down for another.

Sylvia resisted the urge to sit back and pout. Dallas was stubborn, but she was persistent and she knew she could wait him out. Once he got a few more drinks in him she knew he'd ready and willing with the first girl that walked into his radar.

XXX

"Dally," she whispered in his ear. "Let's go upstairs."

He took a long swig, but didn't shake her off this time, practically begging for what she had to offer.

She set her hand back on his thigh, running her fingers up and down and on every fifth downward motion, she dug her nails in and watched him jump. He was barely looking at her, his eyes were fixed straight ahead and his foot was tapping relentlessly on the barstool. He was almost ready.

Leaning in again, she said suggestively in his ear, "Come on, Dal. She ain't here. I ain't gonna tell her."

A hand ran through his hair, giving it a good tousle, and from everything in the world, looking like he was trying to sober himself up. To talk himself out a decision he'd already made.

"You still have your room, don't you?" she asked.

"Who the fuck else would have it?" he snapped, grabbing her wrist that she'd slid up to his hips. He didn't make any effort to remove it.

"I bet you miss playin' it rough, don't you, Dal? I bet she ain't one to play the games you like," she sassed. "But I've always liked 'em."

The grip on her wrist went limp and she drummed her fingers over the crotch of his jeans. He was bursting at the fly.

"Another shot of vodka," he ordered.

With a sultry giggle, she grabbed at the bulge in his jeans and he yelped.

"Give me another beer, too."

He was hers.

Grabbing his hand, she pulled him from his seat at the bar and led him toward the steps. They were barely up the first step when something stopped him. She whipped around to give him and earful and scowled when she saw Two-Bit Mathews standing there.

"What the fuck do you think you're doin', Two-Bit?" Dally asked. His arm snaked around her neck and she smiled in spite of herself. He was finally taking some control.

Nothing in the world was going to get him upstairs faster than someone telling him he shouldn't.

"Where are you going with her?" Two-Bit asked. He was glaring at her, the look in his eyes painfully familiar to her. A lot of people looked at her with disgust.

"Looks to me like we're goin' upstairs," he said. He was barely able to get the words out he was so plastered.

"You blind or something, Dallas?"

"What the fuck are you talkin' about?" Dally retorted.

"You better thank again, man, 'cause that ain't Ellie," he said, pointing at her.

Dally turned his head and stared at her, his ice blue eyes tracing her features. She winked at him and he cracked a grin.

"She certainly ain't Ellie, but Ellie ain't here, is she?" he said. "What she won't know, won't hurt her. You dig, Two-Bit?"

The clown stood there, staring at them like they were some kind of sideshow and Sylvia was through. She'd spent enough time driving Dallas out of his mind and she was too close to finally doing what she wanted to let Two-Bit Mathews get in her way.

"If you don't mind, we were in the middle of something."

And with that, she grabbed his arm and turned him back toward the stairs.

"Yeah, you're working your way into someone else's relationship. Dal, don't fucking do this to Ellie," he warned. "You'll nothin' but hurt her."

Sylvia rolled her eyes. That girl was stupid in the first place for getting mixed up with Dallas Winston and even dumber for letting him out of her sights for more than an hour.

"You know what they say about love and war, Two-Bit," she said, throwing him a wicked smile. "She shoulda been here to keep me offa her man."

XXX

They lay wasted on the rickety old bed; he was passed out cold. They'd really got it moving, the springs sounding as though they'd bounce apart for the first time in ages. She's listened through the walls, and that girl did nothing to get him as fired up as she could. It was pathetic.

She propped herself up on an elbow and looked him over. Long, red scratches marred his chest where she'd finally dug her nails in deep. Faint teeth marks were indented into his flesh, some certain to bruise.

Shaking her head, she grabbed his arm and held his hand up level with her head. Curiously, he'd been wearing his ring since he started dating Ellie. She wore his saint medal instead of the ring he'd rolled a drunk for, but it didn't matter. A token of affection was a token of affection, even if it was from Dallas and even if she took it herself.

Grabbing the silver ring with her fingers, she pried it off his and dropped his hand so that it lay across his chest.

He stirred and she hid the ring in her fist.

"What are you doing?" he grumbled.

"Waitin' on you to wake up," she replied. "I'm not finished with you."

She was demanding him and she knew he'd teach her a lesson about bossing him around.

"Fuck you," he growled, coming back to life, forcing her hands against the bed.

"Go ahead," she teased.

His mouth crashed hard down on hers, trailing down her neck, and she waited until he was hot and bothered before she opened her mouth.

"You're going to tell her, right?" she said, knowing that even if he said no, she wouldn't be able to stop him.

He froze for a split second, and as he spread her legs with his urgent hands, he nodded.

"Yeah, I'll take care of it."

She gives them quite a battle,
All that they can handle,
She'll bruise some, she'll hurt some too.
But oh, they love to watch her strut.

A/N: I hope my fic was good enough to participate. A lot of thought and effort went into it and I'm hoping my rush to get it finished in time didn't compromise the quality of my writing.