A/N:

Hello reader/s! This is my first fic and I hope it isn't too terrible. UnBETA'd so many apologies for any mistakes. Thank you for reading and thank you to the favourite/story alert person. You are my new favourite person.

Disclaimer: All characters belonging to the delightful GRRM.

oOo

The violin strings were being sawed violently, the catharsis in the bow ravaging the thin strands continuously making the stress seep out of Cersei's shoulders. The almost butchered version of Ravel's Bolero was cut off when she heard a car pulling up outside.

She placed the violin tenderly back in its case and padded her bare feet over to the door, unlocking it with one hand and pulling the handle with the other.

She assessed the girl making her way up the driveway, her long hair like a flaming pennant against the afternoon breeze. She was smooth, all soft planes and creamy white skin. Her eyes were averted, staring into the ground and towards the black heels she wore. It was then Cersei swept her gaze appreciatively up her long legs, her thin shoulders and delicate hands.

She was momentarily taken back to Lancel, those skilled fingers plunging below the waistline of her panties as his lips fixed on her neck…

She bought herself back into the present with a jolt and tried not to imagine those hands as the slender ones currently reaching out to grip her hand in a tight handshake.

"Sansa Stark," she said simply, and the alarmingly blue eyes fixed onto her face.

"Cersei Lannister," she replied before correcting herself. "Miss Lannister."

Oh, this was going to be fun.

She regretfully let go of the hand, savouring the warmth as she turned back to the house.

"Come inside," she said it as almost an order, and Sansa hurried to comply. Her affinity for taking orders was definitely going to be a good thing, she decided, regardless of whether or not she went through with the original plan to make Sansa Stark every bit as inappropriate as Father had called Lancel.

God, but Cersei would definitely feel like the evil seductress with this little dove. She was small, with a fairly flat chest and a thin waist. Cersei was immediately conscious of her tallness, those 'Lannister breeding hips', as mother used to put it. She scowled, aware that Sansa was probably in the kitchen by now, and slowly closed the door.

"Jaime tells me you used to be the personal assistant for Joffrey Baratheon," Cersei commented as she entered the kitchen, turning on the espresso machine which whirred and buzzed in the background like white noise.

"Yes, ma'am." Sansa replied, she had eschewed the variety of stools and couches available in the room and decided to stay standing by the counter, looking like a model for kitchen benches as she leant carefully against the marble surface.

"What was that like?" Cersei asked, a rare smile gracing her features.

"Horrible." Sansa said bluntly, before blushing slightly. "I mean, he was very difficult." She fumbled and gave up, averting her gaze. Cersei made it her mission to catch those blue eyes again.

"Indeed," Cersei said, producing two cups. "Take note, I'll expect you to make the coffee next time."

Sansa dutifully raised her eyes to where Cersei was tapping on the buttons, and Cersei caught a glimpse of those stunningly blue orbs.

"Now, my dry cleaning." Cersei said as the coffee finally spurted into the two cups. "I need you to pick up a few items, it's at this address." The handwritten note was folded three times and deposited into Sansa's waiting hand.

"My mobile phone is on the backseat of my car, there are a few voicemails I would like you to check and make a note of. I know you won't be aware of which ones are important yet so just write them all and you'll pick it up as you go along. I have a performance at the end of the week and I expect you to factor in my daily seven hours of rehearsal with any appointments made." Cersei reeled off, not mentioning to Sansa this was all written down currently in the note she had clutched between two of her fingers.

"I'll expect a phone call from you tonight detailing any information that seems urgent, and you can email me the notes from the voicemail." Cersei finished, placing the steaming cup of coffee in front of her. She looked down at the note in her hands, to the coffee, and then up to Cersei.

"Right," she finally said, smiling awkwardly.

"Oh, and Sansa?" she said quietly, forcing those blue eyes back up to her own and causing an odd shiver in the pit of her stomach that she seemed to equate with nervousness.

"Yes?" She prompted, her fingers curling around the coffee cup so she could bring it to her lips.

Cersei smirked. "You're doing fine."

A grin broke out on her features like waves against a beach. "Thank you." She said, wiping away the smile so she could sip the coffee.

Cersei found herself, oddly, remembering Taena. The first girl Cersei had felt stirrings in her abdomen for, the first female presence that could make her blush all the way down to her breasts. Taena was the one who made her realise that her sexuality was never going to be a stationery thing; it was fluid and moveable, changeable as the weather. One day she had desired the hard lines of a flat chest, the next it was the weight of a breast in her hand and a thumb brushing over a sensitive nipple, the surge of wetness compared to the splatter of ejaculate…

She could feel her cheeks heating up in the small confines of the kitchen, and finally admitted to herself that Sansa was an attractive woman. The subservience in that averted glance made Cersei feel powerful, in ways that made her want to pin the smaller girl against a wall and leave a mark on her neck that would last for weeks.

She shook her head, feeling her hair brush her shoulders and knocking herself out of her reverie. She was sexually deprived, that was all. She was frustrated and Sansa just happened to be here.

"So, get to it." Cersei managed to say, hoping her voice didn't sound as husky as it felt. She left the girl standing along in her own kitchen, retiring to her studio and pulling out the violin again. She rested it to her shoulder, letting her cheek brush the cold wood to cool down the overheated skin. With a flourish of the bow, she began a short and melancholy piece that quickly developed into something more sultry. She ignored the change and continued playing, feeling the notes drop out of the violin heavily like clothes onto the floor, the chords wrapping around her like smooth silk against bare skin. She gave a sharp, annoyed stroke to get her mind out of the gutter, but found the staccato beat just made her think of a hard slap to a rounded cheek, or a bite amongst tender kisses.

She dimly heard the front door open and close and tried desperately not to watch Sansa Stark leave, but she heard the music suddenly stop playing and then she was next to the window, watching as she climbed into her car.

A sigh escaped her lips without permission and she deliberated digging out an old vibrator and having away with this consuming feeling, but instead she pulled out the sheet music for her piece at the end of the week and set her violin back in its place.

oOo

The car door slamming made Sansa realise she was exerting too much force into mundane activities. She stilled her shaking hands for a moment and rested her forehead against the steering wheel, reminding herself she was still directly outside of Cersei Lannister's house.

She deliberated one thought: seeing Cersei play violin on stage was a hell of a lot different to seeing Cersei in person. She was tall and perfect with long, gold hair and piercing green eyes.

Even if she was straight, Sansa would be able to say that Cersei Lannister was beautiful. Sansa, however, was not straight. Not after her first bottle of champagne and a drunken night of truth or dare with her best friend Jeyne Poole, resulting in a lot of awkward glances the next day, the subsequent removal of a long list of 'firsts' including 'kiss, orgasm, and cunnilingus' and a firm grasp of the knowledge that she was an enthusiast of same sex relationships.

Cersei had undressed her with those eyes, she had seduced her with that husky voice, and then she had played something on the violin that Sansa would have named 'Let's Fuck in G Minor'.

"You're over thinking this," Sansa told herself. "You're just sexually frustrated because Cersei looks like a goddess and you haven't been able to masturbate in the past three weeks because you're living with your brother and it would be too weird."

She nodded at her assessment of the events and turned on the car, speeding away from Cersei's House of Lust and towards her Drycleaners, hoping that maybe this task would be slightly easier than the task of maintaining conversation with a woman who clearly owned at least one riding crop. She shivered at the idea and pushed that thought from her mind, turning on the radio instead and reminding herself not to think of her current employer in possession of a riding crop.

The Drycleaners were only a few blocks away from Cersei's house, and she pulled up out the front with a sense of foreboding, feeling as though this could be some kind of test. She stepped out of the car, cursed herself for wearing heels, and sidled into the shop.

The woman behind the counter gave her a once over, as if absolutely certain Sansa didn't belong here.

"I'm here to pick up Cersei Lannister's dry cleaning," she said awkwardly, holding up the slip of paper and giving a hopeful smile. The woman perked up and nodded, leaving behind a curtain so Sansa was left standing in the foyer.

She reminded herself she had literally applied for and obtained a job in the space of ten minutes and was now working to keep herself from yawning and placing her hands in her pockets. She realised the drycleaners must have been almost ready to close, the darkening sky and the exasperated look that the woman gave her when she re-entered only confirming Sansa's suspicions.

She gave a curt nod and headed back out to the car, determined to drop off the dry-cleaning, get Cersei's phone, and be back home before Jeyne had finished off all the steamed rice.

She paused in the act of depositing the dry-cleaning in the back seat of her car when something caught her attention, something black and lacy and trimmed with gold.

"No," Sansa breathed, tugging out the one garment that was lying innocently next to a blazer and a pair of pants.

The corset was small, it was thin around the waist and flaring at the hips, tenderly reaching up as if to cup the imaginary breasts in lace trimming. The gold inlay made it shimmer in the disappearing sunlight, and Sansa felt her breath catch in her throat with the image of Cersei actually wearing this.

She filed that under 'thoughts for later' and laid the corset lovingly across the backseat, thinking that the sooner she returned it to its owner, the sooner it would be out of her car and therefore out of her reach.

She leapt back into the driver's seat and made for Cersei's house, noting when she got there that she must have gone out somewhere. On the door was a note, instructing her that the spare key was under the frog statue, that her phone was on the kitchen bench, and to leave the clothes in the same place as the phone was.

She entered the house with some difficulty, taking in the faint smell of her perfume and the lingering music of her violin, Sansa could almost picture her playing it by the window as if she hadn't moved since she had left.

She made her way to the kitchen and carefully slid the phone into her pocket, laying the garments flat on the bench and giving a quick nod to herself.

Thankful her first day of work was over, she made her way back to the car. She kicked off her shoes and threw them into the back seat, driving home barefoot and parking haphazardly across the lawn. She grabbed her handbag and glanced into the back to retrieve her shoes when a glint of gold caught her eye

"Oh no," she said out loud, realising with dismay that the corset was still draped across the seat in an obscene way, as if it had been flung there in passion. Cautiously she picked it up, looking at it for a few moments before making a split second decision to throw it into the boot, closing the car with a definitive click and locking the doors.

If Cersei didn't say anything, Sansa wouldn't say anything. If Cersei said something, Sansa would… lie.