Who has the lamest excuses in the land? I do! New school (high school actually…I'm just a wee freshmen) new friends, this kickass laptop that can do anything but pour me a drink of seltzer (this thing has a camera!) and of course, a boy. I've actually written a couple versions of this chapter, but haven't been happy with them.

X.x.x.x.X

Columbia quickly learned that it was best, when waiting, to keep busy. And although plotting was necessary, she found that there were certain distractions to keep her mind at ease, and keep from thinking about all the ways the plan could possibly go wrong.

The distraction was of course, Eddie.

He was sleeping when she crept in on night, with an insatiable feeling running through her. She hadn't spoken to Frankie in days, was getting very good at avoiding the others, and the greaser helped her not think about their loathing for her. Some days she was irritable, as if going through transvestite-love-withdrawal, but the feeling she used to get when thinking about him was undeniably fading. She was beginning to feel like she was just sex for the scientist-they never really did have conversations; in a way their time together was very mechanical. Clothing came off, and they screwed, the changes were in his hands. After he made her feel sparkly and wanted, he'd light a cigarette, and she'd attempt to smoke alongside him, suppressing coughs. Than he'd run off with some scientific chore to do, and although she was thrilled and chilled by him, her Frank failed to fulfill treating her like anything other than just a sex toy. 'But I'm his groupie…' she'd try to justify, but thinking about how with all the others, the rock stars, the rebels, it was just a jump into bed. With Frankie, she wanted more; she wanted him to love her back. Frankie was her favorite obsession, but now she wanted someone more. He was the only one she ever loved, but it was unrequited, and for the first time in her life, it occurred to her that she wanted to be in love with someone, and have them love her back.

And Eddie was beginning to be her light in the darkness.

She'd creep into his room after midnight, or whenever the Transylvanians where occupied, often finding him asleep. That was another distraction, but from the restless grunts and movements, she could tell that they weren't painless dreams. Sometimes she'd shake him awake, an insatiable feeling sneaking through her, bottling up until he was awake, their clothes were off, and he was holding her.

And they talked, debated, sometimes argued about anything from the real world. Reality. It was starting to be a foreign concept that seemed like a dream. Sometimes Columbia wondered if she was twenty-three or thirteen, nineteen or ninety-nine. Eddie was showing similar signs, sometimes jumping at nothing, but they tried their hardest not to voice their fears. Anything before the castle was to be avoided under most circumstances.

"You should wash your makeup off at night."

She giggled at the random comment. "Who taught you about makeup Ed?"

"My mother. Before she died."

Occasionally, the plan stumbled into the talking, and they'd try to make decisions, but the hopelessness seemed overwhelming, and why bother, when heavy petting was easier, and better? Procrastination was becoming a fine tuned skill for both of them.

The groupie learned a lot abut the greaser during the nights in his room. He was twenty-four (he thought, time meant nothing, never would again in the castle) but had been arrested eight times, for various muggings, theft, violence, and of course, drugs. He never met his father, and his mother's own addictions rubbed off on him. By the time Edna Scott died, he was ready to get himself and his drugs out of the Texas, maybe become a famous rock n roller. He had some friends in Ohio who were starting a band, and he blindly drove himself to Denton, the home of happiness. Unfortunately, his bike broke down a few miles from his destination, and so he crashed at his uncle's house, Uncle Everett. It was established that they would go get help from him; although they could only send a letter. Dr.Scott lived too far from the castle to go plead for his help, but Columbia some how remembered a mailbox that could help. There was only one problem: Getting out of the castle, and getting back. Without the Transylvanians noticing a thing.

"Magenta and her brother are going to…harvest body parts soon. They won't be guarding the doors. I could, you know, sneak out after they go, and pop over to the mailbox. And be back. They'd never know I was gone…"

The last sentence held a bit of bitterness, and melancholy. Columbia still found it biting that she was only still in the castle because she knew too much; and because she was good for reliving Frank's "tension." 'Just get this right…' she reminded herself, and decided promptly that she had spent too much time thinking about the predicament, and not enough time being distracted.

The groupie unbuttoned the biker's pants, undoing the belt in a manner that seemed a common practiced chore. And it was; only most chores she didn't enjoy. The waiting game was much easier with someone else to divert her attention, and Eddie was getting very good at taking her mind far away.

X.x.x.x.X

"Eeee!"

Sometimes Columbia found her squeak obnoxious. Lucky for her, it seemed to fuel Eddie, whose own grunts seemed to do the same for her. It was good, so good, and also alien. He wanted her. Not her body, not for his own pleasure, Eddie Scott wanted her, and she was beginning to think she very nearly loved him. He made her laugh, and actually held her when she cried, and it was new, and it was different, and it was already preferred to all the other people Columbia had ever been with.

X.x.x.x.X

"So darlin'," The greaser said, using a pet name for her, and nobody else, "Just how will we know when the servants go to the grave yard?"

She reveled in the nickname he used for her-it seemed so sincere-before taking a pause to think about how they would figure it out. She knew she could eavesdrop, but there was another way. A frizzy, red headed, domestic sort of way.

"I have a feeling I could pull a few strings, patch up a few...mishaps, and we might even find out why Magenta and her crazy brother do that elbow-fuck thing."

He snorted at that, and she kissed him quickly, before telling him she needed to pull those strings.

X.x.x.x.X

On the way up the stairs, hating the creaks and cobwebs, she heard the stomp of heals that could only belong to one person. Columbia's heart raced, but she wasn't sure it was from excitement and lust. She considered running, but it was too late. In front of her, at the top of the stairs, was Frank-N-Furter. His eyes widened with equal surprise.

"Columbia," he began, his accent still capable of making her body feel tingly, "where have you been hiding lately?"

She swallowed, ignoring the question. She had to tell him something, and she was mad at herself for not saying it before.

"Franki-…Frank...I love you."

He smiled in a way that plainly said, "Of course, of course."

"Well…how nice."

And just like that, when he replied, she knew how she felt about him.

X.x.x.x.X

I have three days to do…nothing. So you know, if another chapter gets half written, consider it an accomplishment. Cause as I type this, I realize I have to take three rolls of film, finish an essay, and other things. But there may be a Magenta-Columbia reunion in the next chapter. And several other nice things.