Chapter Two: Can I Lick You Please?

The fall didn't amount to anything but a potential new friendship as Anita Roy helped the damsel in distress up. Theresa gave a small curtsy to thank her for doing something that she could have done on her own perfectly fine.

"No need" Anita told her.

A frown materialized on Theresa's face; she slapped Anita across the face. She looked on in disgust as she dragged Theresa back by her coat; she squealed with fright. Anita pushed her back on the floor.

"And stay there, you ungrateful little wretch!" Anita spat before walking away.

Theresa screamed as she rushed towards the girl and clambered onto her back. Straddling on her back like you would a horse as she whipped a fake rope in the air. Anita went back, things were getting violent. Theresa slid of her back with a thump on the floor; as she laid backwards for a few moments.

"I want to be your friend" Anita told her to her amazement; as she gave a small smile.

She gave a small nod back; that first encounter was quite barbarous though they were willing to put all that under the blue rug because blue gives so much more depth to that cliché saying. Does't it? (Gives you time to think)

"Me too but never ever fight me again; my name is Theresa"

They shook hands in forgiveness because Hollyoaks needs some peace and quiet. They even gave each other a curtsey to show their respect.

"My name is Anita"

They gave each other their phone numbers before they parted their ways once again. Giving each other a mutual wave before they both turned around to get on with their busy and unpredictable day.

...

She arrived to her new boyfriend's home; he invited her in. He slapped her across the face before caressing her cheek. She was confused though she let him do it anyway; looking across the room.

"What's that?" Theresa asked, pointing towards a stuffed owl; it wasn't real though it looked real.

He sighed as he sat down on his sofa; it was a long story and he was not prepared to tell her the long version of how the fake owl got stuffed. It was a harrowing story that nobody deserved to hear.

"I got him from a grabber in Hackney for our Leah; some tosser in a pink suit was willing to pay me in Monopoly money for the stuffed owl; so I rang Amy on me Nokia; I had my hoodie up, scared some old bitch away" Ste paused.

"But he kept putting 'da money in me face; it was so tempting; me and Amy lost all our money so we couldn't play Monopoly; I was thinking of breaking my daughter's heart by letting him have the stuffed owl"

Theresa walked over.

"Your disgusted I know" Ste crossed his arms, he wanted some comfort, he was gagging for it.

She shrugged; rocking side by side to the sound of nothing. Dancing helped her answer onerous questions, remember this because it will become important later and may even cause some minor amusement. (I even underlined it)

"Not really because you got the owl and that means you made the right choice" Theresa reminded him with her hand pressed against her hips.

He bursted into unexpected tears as he got out a yellow coloured tissue paper, blowing his nose as well as wiping tears. Theresa did another little dance before she answered, this was a brand new trait of hers.

"It's not the owl! I brought another one from the same grabber! I took the Monopoly money!" Ste cried extremely.

She did another quick dance.

"You got her the owl; that's all that matters" Theresa insisted.

A moments of silence occurred much to their discomfort; before Ste finally uttered something while licking his own lips.

"Can I lick you please?" Steven asked to her scepticism as she began to sit down on his lap.

He started to lick her just as he said he would. As his tongue went across her face; she smiled with pleasure. How did he know this was her secret fetish? It must be love she thought to herself.

"This is nice" Theresa told him; as she pushed him back.

She stuck her tongue out, ready to lick him back though he held onto it with his finger. She started to cough; he let go. Watching as she ran over to the sink, putting on the hot water without even as she drank it. She screamed.

"Your finger is rotten on my tongue" Theresa told with, crossing her arms, trying to get rid of the taste of his finger.

Not quite the cliffhanger but my name isn't Bryan Kirkwood.

...