"Selina Kyle, you magnificent bastard!"

The brunette jumped back from her locker, too startled to even attempt to play it cool. "What in the name of Molly Shannon is the matter with you?"

The redhead smirked as she arched an eyebrow. "What?"

Selina rolled her eyes. "Molly Shannon was in Superstar, Jesus Christ Superstar, Jesus Christ, Jesus is the son of God, God- therefore Molly Shannon is God and my question is, 'what, in the name of God, is the matter with you?'"

Pam opened her mouth to speak but then closed it again, hoping her expression didn't look as dumb as it felt. "Selina, that's insane."

"Whatever you say." The brunette shut her locker. "You better not be this happy over your fucking biology test. Because that would officially drive me insane."

"You know, Selina…" Pamela began, wistfully. "The wonderful thing about our being autonomous homo sapiens is that my being thrilled about a biology assignment is my prerogative and has no bearing on your health, either physical or mental."

Selina narrowed her eyes at her friend. "Are you drunk?"

"No!" Pamela fearfully glanced around the hallway, making sure no one had heard Selina's question.

"OK…" Selina started towards Gordon's class. "Because your obnoxious vocabulary is about the only thing in character for you right now."

"I'm not drunk." Pam mumbled as she followed behind her.

Selina shrugged, although Pam wasn't sure if it was in reference to their conversation or if she was just adjusting her backpack. "Bruce and I had a good time on Wednesday, by the way. We played that game you hate where Bruce puts on the suit of armor and I hit him with a baseball bat."

"Right…" Pam slid in to her seat. "Sounds like I definitely missed out."

"On what?" Bruce, who was already sitting in his seat, inquired. "Oh, wack-a-knight?"

"Bruce, darling, we decided on 'wack-a-douche', remember?" Selina sat down behind Pam.

"Language, Ms. Kyle." Professor Gordon spoke up from behind her desk.

Selina peeked around Pam's shoulder. "It's a feminine hygiene product, Professor. Will you be outlawing the word 'tampon' next?"

Pamela was sure the remainder of this edition of the now infamous Selina vs. Professor Gordon feud would have been interesting, but that was the moment Harley walked in, and to be honest, Pamela blocked everything else out.

Harley flashed Pam a knowing smirk as she sat down beside her. Pamela knew she couldn't touch her, knew she shouldn't even be looking at her…but God—or, Molly Shannon—did she want to kiss her. Thankfully the bell came not long after, knocking Pamela out of her trance.

"All right…" Professor Gordon rolled out from behind her desk. "Today we will be continuing our exploration of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart," but first, I'd like to speak to you a bit about the end game for this class."

Pamela hoped whatever it was meant more analyzing and less actual writing. She was barely maintaining an embarrassing 94% in this class.

"Although we will look at multiple themes, styles and genres of literature in this class, the overarching theme for this year will be an emotion. Some say, the most powerful emotion of all. Anyone have a guess?"

"Indigestion?" Selina guessed.

Professor Gordon ignored her. "Love. Every great author has discussed love in one form or another. You will find mention of it in each and every piece we read this year. Now you don't have to do anything with this information immediately, but as we make our way through the year, I want you to keep it in the back of your mind. We can learn a lot about the different expressions of love, both in literature and in our daily lives."

Pamela felt Harley's eyes on her, and the gesture once again left a hot trail on her skin. She swallowed and glanced at the clock, willing it- maybe for the first time in her life- to speed her through the school day.

"Oh, Bruce." Pamela stopped him after the bell ending first period. "I brought this for you." From her bag she produced a banana and a protein bar. "I was going to get you one of those bagels you like but I didn't want my bag to smell like onions. Or cream cheese. Or bagel, for that matter."

Bruce grinned as he took the food from her. "Thanks, Pam."

Selina smirked and shook her head. "You know, Isley, if you're looking to move in on my territory…"

"Shucks, I've been foiled." Pamela chuckled. "You're right, Selina, it's been me and Bruce all along."

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this," Bruce's tone was somber, mock-apologetic. "But Pamela and I are running away together. We'll live in the rainforest and spend our days breeding plants…and each other."

"That's the most repulsive sentence that's ever been spoken." Selina laughed. "And until you take her picture out of your bedroom, Bruce, Pammy here will remain on my watchlist."

"It's a picture of all three of us!" Bruce defended himself. "You make me sound like a creep."

"Well, you're definitely a creep, Bruce." Pam smirked, but realized she'd lost track of Harley during their conversation. The blonde had already exited the classroom. She stood up quickly. "I have to go. I'll see you at lunch," she told her friends before starting out of the room. She caught a glimpse of Harley in the sea of uniformed students, her pigtails making her stand out in a crowd. The redhead followed after her, catching up just outside of Woodrue's classroom.

"Hey." Pamela stopped her.

"Hey." Harley said, leaning against the wall a few feet from the door.

Pam glanced over her shoulder to make sure she was properly shielded before reaching out and taking Harley's hand, leaning in slightly to whisper: "I'll have Alec pick you up at 6, all right?"

The blonde looked down at their joined hands with worry in her eyes as the sea of students passed around them, but when none seemed to notice, she allowed herself a smile. "I can't wait. ...you know, for...tutoring."

"Yes, of course." Pamela grinned. "It's important for your performance in biology...tutoring is, I mean."

Harley giggled. "Any words of encouragement before I go in there and fail this test?"

"Well..." Pam sighed. "A lackluster performance by you would mean I'm not a very good teacher."

"But you are," Harley assured her.

"OK..." Pam resisted the very strong urge to disregard their surroundings and just kiss her, instead settling for squeezing her hand a bit tighter. "Now go prove it."

/

Harley sat in the back of the Isley family car, her knee jiggling with nervous anticipation. She thought back to that bus ride before their first tutoring session – it was amazing how far they'd come since then. Back then, Pam had seemed like this utterly unattainable Platonic ideal of a human being. But for whatever reason, she had chosen to guide Harleen Quinzel out of the cave and into the light.

Or maybe Harley was the guide in this analogy? Whatever, philosophy was only slightly better than science. In any case – Harley giggled to herself – she and Pam would both be attaining something soon enough.

Being alone with her thoughts always stressed Harley out more than anything, so she leaned up and tapped hesitantly on the glass separating passenger from driver. Alec lowered the glass. "Yes, Ms. Quinzel?" he said, a smile in his voice.

"Oh – um, Harley is good?" Harley said, not really sure of the protocol but falling back on her default of 'talk to everyone like they're your friend.'

"I like the name Harley," Alec said thoughtfully. "It suits you."

"Thanks!" said Harley. "My real name, Harleen, doesn't actually suit anyone, so."

Alec laughed and glanced at her in the rear view mirror. "You know, you have a control for the privacy pane right there on your door."

"Oh!" Harley exclaimed. Then she proceeded to try it out for the next 30 seconds, raising and lowering the pane until Alec said dryly, "I think you have the hang of it."

"So, howdja end up being the Isleys' driver?" said Harley, pulling back from the button a little reluctantly.

Alec flashed her another glance in the mirror. "I used to be on the grounds crew at their country club," he said. "Had dreams of opening my own landscaping business one day, but then my dad got sick and – anyway, I overheard Ms. Isley complaining about how they'd had to fire their driver, so next time Mr. Isley was on the green, I got up the nerve to talk to him. He's a little less –"

"Terrifying?" said Harley with a giggle.

"Your words, not mine," Alec said, smiling. ". . . than Ms. Isley, and he must have seen something in me because he said to come around that weekend and he'd have their tailor measure me for the outfit." He shrugged. "The rest is history, I guess."

"Do ya like it?" Harley said.

Alec shrugged again, making a careful turn onto the Isleys' street. "The pay's decent, I like driving, and they're not bad to work for," he said. "You should hear some of the stories the other drivers tell."

"Hm," said Harley. Then: "Oh! You'll get a kick outa this – you remember the first time you dropped me off at the apartment, the night Pam was . . . indisposed?" Alec nodded. "Well, I have three little brothers – you probably saw at least two of 'em running around when you picked me up just now – and the next day, they thought you were my boyfriend!"

The driver barked out a quick laugh. "They must not have seen the way you look at – sorry, that's none of my business," he trailed off.

"No, that's totally fine," Harley said. "As long as that sentence was going to end with 'Pam' and not, like, Principal Waller or something."

Alec grinned at her in the mirror as he pulled into the driveway of the mansion. "You're good for her, you know," he said quietly. "Ms. Isley – Pam – I mean, not Principal Waller."

Harley blushed and muttered, "Thanks." She bit her bottom lip, looked out the window . . .

And saw Pam standing on the front porch, stunning in a dress and heels. She leaned casually against a column, looking so flawless that Harley actually gasped.

"Have fun tonight," Alec said, and Harley stammered her thanks as she got out of the car on shaky legs.

/

You should have said 6:30, Pam scolded herself as she hurried from her bathroom to her bedroom. You allowed your desperation for Harley to override the need for adequate preparation time.

Her personal cleanliness and skincare were on target, and her outfit was laid out neatly on the bed (all of it – Pam blushed a little as her mind wandered ahead), but she'd done next to no staging or ambience.

"Will she want music? Hors d'oeuvres?" Pam muttered to herself, shimmying into her dress and expertly tugging the side zipper up.

She then moved to accessories, sliding in one earring and then the other while simultaneously slipping on the heels she'd bought to accompany this dress (which she'd bought especially for tonight). "Should we watch TV first? Discuss the biology exam? Or current events, perhaps? Curses, where did Mother leave the Wall Street Journal . . ."

When she was completely ready – ensemble, hair, makeup, all of it – Pam allowed herself a glance at the clock.

It was 5:47pm. Harley wouldn't be arriving for another 28 minutes, at least.

Pam went outside to stand on the porch and wait for her.

/

"H-hi," Harley said as she walked (teetered?) over to where Pam stood on the porch.

"Aren't you that girl that poked my house one time?" Pam said, straightening up from the column she was leaning against with a smirk that Harley wanted to lick off her face. Down, girl!

"I told you, your house was cruisin' for a bruisin'," said Harley, drawing slowly closer, powerless against the gravitational pull of Pam's emerald eyes. Hey, gravity, that's science, right? Not biology, though . . . chemistry? Shit, Harley!

Pam stood on the landing, watching her approach. Her poker face was much better than Harley's, but Harley saw her hands flex a couple of times, the only visible indication of Pam's own nervousness.

When Harley drew even with her, she stepped in so close that Pam's back bumped against the column, their chests brushing together lightly. Their proximity somehow provided Harley courage. She braced one hand next to Pam's ear on the column and leaned in to whisper in the other, her lips brushing the sensitive spot just beyond her jawbone: "Are your parents out?" Sexy, but also an important question. Nice.

Pam nodded, and the action made her earlobe graze Harley's nose, so of course Harley nuzzled in until Pam gasped. "How – how did you feel your biology test went?" she managed to squeak out, and Harley grinned against her neck as she moved her free hand to Pam's hip, gently pressing her own hips into the other girl's.

"Not bad," Harley murmured, already feeling excited just from this brief contact. "I have a pretty great tutor. In fact –" here, she took a giant step back, leaving Pam breathless against the column – "I think she was just about to invite me upstairs for our next . . . session." OK, might have been a little forward, but I can't take it back now.

Pam stood up and cleared her throat, then fussed with her appearance, fluffing her hair and patting her dress down. "Right this way," she said, spine straight, gesturing at the front door with one hand while reaching for Harley's with the other.

Harley giggled as Pam strode resolutely into the house, dragging her by the hand. As soon as they were inside, Pam's little burst of resolve seemed to disappear, and she shut the door and kissed Harley hard, desperately, pressing her back against the door. Harley let out a little moan and brought her hands up over Pam's shoulders to the back of her neck, reveling in the feel of her silky hair twining through Harley's fingers as their tongues met in a now-familiar dance. Harley didn't ever think she'd get used to how passionate Pamela could become in an instant.

Their positions were reversed from where they'd been outside, and Pam's hand was now on Harley's hip, sliding easily under the bottom edge of Harley's soft t-shirt and coming to rest just barely under the top hem of her jeans. Pam pulled back from their kiss just a little, both girls breathing hard now, and watched Harley's face as she flexed her fingers, digging them into that hip experimentally. Harley jumped a little and whacked the back of her head on the door.

"Sorry!" hissed Pam, but Harley leaned forward and quieted her with a kiss.

"No, no. I'm sorry." she said wearing a goofy grin. Pam smiled back, and they just stood there for a second, looking at each other like a couple of dorks.

Then Pam's eyes tightened a little, got more intense, and Harley gulped. She'd seen that look before and she knew what it meant. "Pam," Harley croaked, "do you want to go upstairs now?"

"Harley," said Pam, lightly caressing her hip with those slender, slightly calloused fingers, "I have never wanted anything more." Then she wrinkled her nose. "Ugh. Sorry. That was –"

Harley shut her up with another quick kiss (the secret weapon of the Pam Whisperer!). "That was adorable," she said. "You're adorable." Pam looked like she was about to argue her choice of adjective, so Harley quickly grabbed her by the hand and pulled her away from the wall toward the staircase. "I believe your boudoir is this way, Ms. Isley?"

Harley knew there would be plenty of time for whatever they wanted to do, but if Pam kept giggling like that Harley wasn't confident they'd make it up the stairs. That couch looks comfortable enough…

But they did make it to Pam's bedroom, and Harley was glad they did.

As Pam shyly led her into the bedroom, Harley thought about the first time she'd seen it. It still felt like a fairy tale – maybe even more so now, given the context – but the canopy bed, the vanity, the desk . . . they all just faded into the background and the only thing she could see was Pam. Harley had never wanted anyone so bad in her life.

"Um," Harley said, trying her hardest not to babble, swinging their joined hands back and forth as they stood near the foot of the bed, facing each other, "I like your dress."

"Thanks," said Pam. She hopped up and sat at the foot of the bed, then smiled at Harley and crooked a finger at her to come closer. Harley's eyes widened and she obeyed, stepping in close so that her body nudged Pam's knees apart a little.

One of Pam's heels bumped into Harley's calf, and Harley said absently, "I like your shoes, too."

"Mmm," Pam slid her hands around Harley's waist, resting them there lightly.

"They match the dress," Harley observed, twirling a red wave of Pam's hair around one finger, ghosting her thumb over Pam's bottom lip, her smooth jawline. I get to have this.

"That they do," said Pam, sliding her hands into Harley's back pockets playfully, still smiling as she tugged her even closer. She leaned up until their lips were almost touching and said, barely above a whisper, "I bought them for tonight."

"Just the shoes?" said Harley. Why is that important to clarify? she thought a little frantically, but then Pam was kissing her lightly and she forgot to think anything at all.

"The shoes," Pam said, kissing her again, "the dress –" this time, with just the tiniest flick of her tongue against Harley's lips – "and everything else." Harley moaned into the kiss, parting her lips so Pam's tongue could glide against hers. Everything else? EVERYTHING ELSE?! Harley suddenly felt the urge to rip Pam's dress off and investigate the hint, but it looked pretty expensive and she wasn't sure if-

"Come up here with me," Pam said, tearing her lips away for a second, releasing the iron grip she now had on the front of Harley's shirt as she scooted up higher to make room. "And no shoes on the bed." Harley looked at her funny, but when Pam just quirked an eyebrow at her, she kicked her shoes off, then (with a quick glance at Pam to make sure it was okay) slid the redhead's shoes off, too. I do like these shoes… Then she crawled up, settling herself just over Pam.

"Any other rules I should know about?" Harley murmured, dipping her head to give the other girl a long, slow, wet kiss. Utterly convinced Pamela Isley lying on the bed beneath her was the most beautiful sight in the world.

When Harley pulled back, there was a glint in Pam's eye. "I did tell you about the 'no shirts in bed' rule, didn't I?" Pam said with a grin. Harley shot her a look and sat right up on top of her, straddling her a bit gingerly. Pam put her hands on Harley's hips though, pulling slightly in a move that to Harley meant she could rest more of her weight on her.

"Quite forward, Ms. Isley," Harley said – but then, with a suddenly self-conscious look, she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it gently to the side.

"Wow," Pam gulped, looking her age for once, and Harley swore she could feel the heat of Pam's gaze on her bra (black with little red diamonds, her favorite).

"Good wow?" said Harley quietly, and Pam looked up at her face now, could probably see the vulnerability there. She skimmed her hands lightly up Harley's sides, trailing the backs of them over her ribs and the blonde shivered at her touch.

As Pam's hands continued moving up, stroking gently just below Harley's bra, Pam whispered, "More like a 'my God, what have I been missing?' wow." Then she suddenly slid her hands up underneath the bra, cupping Harley's breasts for the first time. And her action seemed to take Pam by surprise as well as she inhaled sharply. All Harley could do was close her eyes and leaned into Pam's touch, now firmly resting her weight on the redhead's hips.

Pam's hands were warm and dry, and her thumbs rubbed against Harley so gently that it made her whole body crave more. She leaned down to kiss her, sort of trapping Pam's hands underneath her so that she had to slide them out from under her bra. "Catchup time," Harley murmured in between lingering kisses, tapping the line of Pam's collar and trying not to sound as excited as she was.

"Mmm – but – I'm wearing a dress," Pam managed to pant out in between the next round of Harley's kisses.

"Factual," Harley said, sliding down Pam's body just a little and brushing her hair aside so she could get her mouth on Pam's neck. She lightly kissed the tender area under her jawbone, slid her tongue down along the side of her neck, and sucked gently just above her collarbone, grinning when she heard Pam's little hiss. So warm, so smooth, Harley thought, relishing the feel of the girl below her. Then – without ceasing her attentions to the redhead's neck – Harley slid her hand up Pam's side until she found the zipper pull tucked away just below her arm. "Can I . . ." she mumbled, and at Pam's whispered "Yes," Harley let out a low groan and grasped the zipper firmly. I'm . . . undressing Pamela Isley, she thought.

She leaned up to look at Pam as she pulled it down, swallowing hard when she saw how flushed Pam's face was, how dark her eyes were, how her tongue flicked out to moisten her kiss-swollen lips. "So pretty," Harley whispered. She didn't realize she'd voiced the thought until Pam blushed even darker and leaned up to kiss her, hard.

"Do you want to take your dress off now?" Harley said, and Pam nodded. They separated for a second so Pam could wriggle out of the dress, and Harley took the chance to tug her jeans off too. This was the first time Harley had seen Pam's body uncovered, and although the lacy bra and panties she was wearing were clearly expensive and certainly fit her well, Harley was far more enamored by the toned look of her muscles, her tanned skin…For a moment Harley wondered why Pam ever wore clothes at all. It honestly seemed like a crime against nature now.

Wordlessly, both craving the same thing, they lay down on their sides, facing one another in their bras and panties. Pam reached around and placed her hand on Harley's lower back, her fingers drawing lazy circles on her skin, and Harley trailed her hand gently, teasingly down Pam's arm and then up again, until the limited contact drove both of them crazy and they leaned in, kissing just as hungrily as they had in the car the night before. Harley was convinced they could kiss like this for the rest of their lives and she'd still have trouble believing it was real. It was such a wonderful sensory overload… and then Pam boldly slid a leg between Harley's and she was having trouble forming coherent thoughts. Everything was just Pam. Harley rocked against her leg, moaning as Pam thrust her tongue in time to the rocking of Harley's hips.

I can have this. This is real. Suddenly, Harley rolled on top of Pam, straddling one of her legs. Slowly, deliberately, she brought her own leg up, rubbing it experimentally against Pam, who moaned "Harley" in a broken voice that almost undid Harley on the spot. She loved Pam's voice, she loved that sound…she loved that Pam's voice sounded like that because of her.

And then, in a sudden act of bravery, Harley brought a hand between their bodies, sliding it down until her fingertips slipped just under the band of Pam's emerald green lace panties. "Baby," she said in a husky voice, realizing the crossroads they were at. She looked into Pamela's eyes then. Trepidation lingered within them, the realization of a foreign vulnerability, but the want in her eyes was far more prevalent.

Pam bit her lip. Nodded, bucking her hips just slightly. "Please, Harley. I'm so ready," she said.

And she was.