Unbreakable Red Silken Thread

by Rufus T. Serenity

Fate, destiny, chance, and luck. Four of the most powerful forces in existence, and all of them have had it out for Cody Emmett Jameson Anderson, Heather Wilson, and Gwen Fahlenbock since the days they were born. Fortunately, those same four forces have got it in for each other as well. Rated M for sex and other mature, darkly realistic subject matters.

24. Chance: Apex Predator

Author's Notes: Hello everyone! After a short break here is the next chapter of our story for you all to enjoy! I do wish to apologize for making you wait so long, but the truth of the matter is this chapter was finished way back in June. Now you might be asking, why did it take three months for a finished chapter to get posted? The simple answer without going into a lot of detail is 'unexpected and unforeseen problems with editing'. I'm not going to go into any more detail on this but rest assured everything is fine and future updates will not suffer delays for this reason.

Now with that out of the way, after nine chapters focused primarily on Gwen, we at last return to Cody and Heather. Of course the Goth will still be the third important corner of the triangle of this story's main trio, but she'll now need to share time with the other corners. Speaking of which we'd like to give a slight tiny spoilers here for those of you who have been asking that Cody get his time in the spotlight...*drumrolls* After this chapter, Cody will be getting his own (albeit somewhat short) arc!

Also before we begin, allow me to rectify a small injustice. This is for CMR Rosa, who in addition to being an awesome fan has commissioned many pieces of artwork for this story! So many, in fact, that the deviantart artist qMargot as a ENTIRE FOLDER devoted to nothing but pictures for this story commissioned by CMR Rosa! It's been ages since I acknowledged these efforts and I thought it was about time to fix that. For this, my good friend, you have all of the thanks I can muster. It makes me so happy to know that you enjoy my work so much to offer so much. You are amazing! :)

On the note of those pictures, one of them is for some winter outfits for Jasmine that will be appearing in a later story arc. The color scheme of these according to one reviewer 'greatly resembles that of Captain Boomerang from DC Comics'. My writer partner Kenju had this to say to qMargot and anyone else that shared this thought:

"Congratulations on catching that little detail, looks like someone figured out what I was watching while I was designing those outfits :P"

Having said that, let's move on to the twenty-fourth chapter of "Unbreakable Red Silken Thread": Chance: Apex Predator.

---

Sunday, November 2nd, 2014 (10:00 AM)

Among the longest held beliefs of mankind has been the effect their emotions and actions can leave on a location. When something significant enough happens, it leaves a permanent mark on the metaphysical proprieties of where it occurred. As many a B-movie fan knows, this is the initial premise from which every haunted house story is born. An action, whether a series of gruesome murders or human sacrifice, is so scarring that where it took place is just as traumatized and changed as the humans who learn of it: the where becomes infested with the ghosts of the what and the echoes reverberate across humanity's linear perspective of time with actions from the past repeated in the future.

Though it wasn't on the same scale as chopping a loving family up with an axe or offering some innocent virgin to a demonic abomination, an example of this was playing out in a hallway of Pahkitew dorms. The footsteps of a troubled young lady were audible, as they would be roughly twelve hours from this exact moment. But instead of the stomping fury of heavy black combat boots: the feet leaving their mark were shod in white sandals costing more than most guys spent on shoes in their lifetime.

Heather was unknowingly setting the pattern Gwen would follow later this day. Whereas the Goth would travel in seething wrath, the Queen Bee was more pensive.

She was in the jittery grasp of 'the inch.' Saria had been unable to slate her lust for the fairer sex and it was acting up again. What was more unsettling however was that her most recent effort to quell it, despite appearing successful at first merely lasted about a day before returning stronger than before. The continuous craving for curves and cooch was one of the few things that could consistently undermine Heather's otherwise impervious iron-will. Embracing her bisexuality after years of uncertainty and doubt had largely been a boon for both she and her boyfriend, but this was one of the unpleasant consequences that came with her former life.

Growing up and getting whatever you wanted whenever you wanted was more addictive than any drug. It was true that thanks to Cody's loving support she was changing, adjusting, and able to keep fighting against her old ways when it came to most things, but she would be the first to admit (if only to herself) that she wasn't perfect, and the best she could do with some of her former habits was to tweak them or adjust their direction.

Shopping had been easy to let go once she stopped giving a damn about most other peoples opinions. Partying had been even easier for the same reason in addition to what it had nearly cost her with Cody. Drinking…she limited to when it was just her and Cody, or when among friends, but she still enjoyed it. Manipulating other people was almost an instinct, and probably would be the one thing she never really got under control.

But then, there was sex. Heather liked sex; she enjoyed it, a lot. The power it gave her, being the center of attention, having others all but bowing to her (and on occasion even having that) was the most intoxicating sensation she had ever experienced. Yes, sex itself was something she enjoyed a great deal, but that was just another part of the full course. It gave her absolute and total control, felt great, and fed both her ego and her pride. As a result, she just couldn't give up that last selfish shade buried within her heart, settling for the occasional 'scratching' to keep it satisfied and under control.

Usually at least.

The former Queen Bee needed a distraction, bad. She was starting to have trouble (literally) thinking straight. She was getting aroused in public when stray thoughts of big-breasted beauties ravishing her entered her daydreams during boring class lectures or while waiting at ungodly long stoplights. She had managed to tough it out without any considerable issues, but she was at her limit.

Her usual method for quelling this, bringing home a hot honey for her and Cody to share for a night, was unfortunately out of the question. Things were predictably shaky with her Gothic rival from Total Drama, and even she couldn't anticipate all of the potential problems having a threesome with her around might cause.

But there were other reasons too, which were also infuriatingly connected to Gwen. Despite only being in their lives for less than a week, the Goth had managed to uproot the small heaven that she had crafted for herself. That bothered Heather for many reasons but at this moment, she was focused on one in particular that echoed in her flustered brain.

She remembered what Gwen had said to her with perfect clarity, that Cody could do a hell of a lot better than her. That comment, above all of the pathetic barbs flung her way as the Goth flailed in impotent rage actually stung. Mainly because Heather, even if she didn't acknowledge it then, knew Gwen was right. More than that, she had two examples to prove it. Those twin serpents had existed long before this moment, of course, but being prodded by Gwen's words they had reared their ugly heads and bit at Heather's soul without letup.

The first was quite simple. Heather knew Gwen's words were true. Cody could easily do better than her if he wanted to at this point. Despite being a large and frightening serpent, Heather's fear over it had lessened over the years. She'd had that fear for so long now that she had developed immunity to its crippling venom. She no longer lay awake at night worried that Cody would up and leave her, not after everything they had gone through together.

For better or worse, he truly loved her, and the ring she wore proved it beyond any doubt.

But as pleasant as that reality was, it led to the cruel irony that gave the other viper so much lethal potency. It was what ate away at her in her weakest, most human moments. It was why Gwen's words still rung in her within her mind like a solemn church bell.

Heather knew that Cody wouldn't leave her…but a part of her knew that her boyfriend would be better off if he did.

Her analytical mind went over what she had going for her, what she had to offer him and found it severely lacking compared to what he offered in return. She had money, but after he opened her eyes she learned that you couldn't buy happiness, just distractions. Her parents perfectly illustrated the ultimate destiny of such a shallow, hedonistic mindset, and Heather was determined to avoid such a fate. Besides, Cody wasn't a shallow person, geeky, perverted, and tech-obsessed sure, but not shallow. She had sex appeal and sexual skill, but as confident as she was in these, even she was forced to acknowledge that she was lacking in the T&A department, even if Cody was a leg guy. Gone were the days that desirable woman averted their gazes at Cody when he walked by, now that he'd developed a more muscular frame and some self-confidence there were plenty casting their eyes in his direction. If he wanted other girls, he could get them.

It had taken awhile, and he put up with a lot but after everything was done and said Cody had made it clear that he wanted her and only her, even when he had no reason to.

For obvious reasons, this realization made Heather quite happy. But it there was a chink in that armor, one tiny problem that sprouted up from that good soil like a malignant tree.

Heather always had this feeling that she 'owed' Cody.

She knew that it was a vestigial leftover from her old life, in a way akin to how every human ever born had an appendix despite it long ago not being essential for survival. The former Queen Bee would flash back to when she saw everything as having a finite price, everything cost something and nothing was free. Whenever this happened she would get this weird twinge of guilt every time Cody went out of his way to do something nice for her, especially when she tried to make it up to him for cheating on him and he told her she didn't have to.

Heather, even after several years of constant effort and gradual improvement, was still in the middle of a metamorphosis of sorts, a developing butterfly sticking out its chrysalis. Half of her was still trapped in the silky embrace of her old life of decadence and callous manipulation, while the other half was free from its suffocating strangle in the light of a brighter world. Her head yearned to take flight to new greener pastures, but her feet remained anchored in a comforting but hollow shield that occasionally beckoned to her.

She knew what love was, or at least had a much better idea of what that actually meant, but all of this was still fairly new to her, a few years of warm discovery trying to balance out over a decade and a half of the cold, detached reality she had grown up in. The fundamental idea, the mere central concept behind it, of doing something for someone not because you needed to or had to, but simply because you wanted to, not under compulsion or wanting anything in return was new for her. It was the light of the sun that motivated her to unbind her feet from her past. But like all light, as pleasant and attractive as it was, it could burn, or reveal things that you wished to remain hidden in shadow.

One of those things formerly hidden bothered her quite a bit. As Heather slowly began to truly understand the concept of love, the more her grasp on it went from theoretical to understanding, the more she felt inadequate and believed whatever she had to offer her too-good-for-her boyfriend was lacking and unworthy.

The reformed Queen Bee often cooked Cody's meals, but that was just food. Even if he really liked her cooking and happily ate whatever she made, at the end of the day it was still just food. Nothing more. The repentant villain of Total Drama Island had occasionally bought him gifts, a new game system, a computer, the chair in their dorm. But they were just finely crafted contraptions of electronics and circuitry, anyone could buy them; and they only offered a deficient shadow of the true depth to which she cared for him. Then there were the nights or any given opportunity, really, where the woman who had once cheated on him fucked his brains out. Sex was the closest to what Heather was looking for, with it being an intimate connection between them that resulted in showing how much the two met to each other.

Plus, it felt really, really good.

Yet even this wasn't enough in Heather's mind, as it too failed to show Cody how much she loved him. Because just like cooking or buying him things it was something anyone could do, maybe not quite with her level of skill, but any girl could fuck him or suck his dick. It wasn't personal enough; it wasn't something unique to her and only her.

Cody had always listened to her, comforted her, had been there for her at the drop of a hat, but in her mind all she had been able to give him in return was a full belly, trinkets, or a good lay. Not good enough. Not even close. Ever since he took her back, she had been looking for something to give him, something to show her appreciation for all that he had done and put up with yet all of her fallback options seemed to fail her.

However, against all odds, she came across a new possibility thanks to a most unexpected turn of events. She now had a potential answer for what she could offer Cody that no other could. That realization made her smile, though she couldn't help but snicker at how she came across this new possibility.

With that in mind, she pulled out a pair of small black business cards from her pocket and looked them over for what must have been the hundredth time. The details were exactly the same as the previous ninety-nine times her grey gaze raked over them. On one side, in seductive red print, was 'Cherry Tappers' while underneath in gold print was the name 'Scarlett Friday' with a bright red lip mark covering the otherwise blank black card. Flipping it over, Heather saw a pair of large cherries that she assumed were the establishment's logo, along with a four-digit number beneath it written in soft pink, 1666.

For reasons irrational yet undeniable, Heather found herself feeling a few things she hated above most. Unsure. Doubtful. Vulnerable. She was so used to either having the means to do something herself or obtain things on her own that she rarely if ever needed help. More to the point, it was even less likely she needed assistance from anyone other than Cody. That combined with the depilating effects of her 'itch' left the former Queen Bee in a state that would have driven most people to indecisiveness and the regret of cowardice.

But then again, Heather Wilson wasn't most people.

She looked again at the card with that in mind, almost able to hear Cody himself saying as such. It made Heather shake her head and chuckle, as much out of nervousness as amazement as she recalled the bizarre situation that resulted in her possession of these cards, and what they might lead to later. It had already been three days but the events remained fresh in her mind. It helped to reflect on the past; after all maybe it would steel her resolve for what she planned to do in the present?

---

Thursday, October 30th, 2014 (6:30 AM)

Both Cody and Heather had been to the library for various class assignments before, but neither had spent much time other than those few required occasions among the many page filled tomes. As a result, the musky and silence saturated archive of higher knowledge almost felt like a bizarre extraterrestrial landscape to the pair. The fact that it was borderline labyrinthine in its design, almost encouraging students to get lost didn't help. Though neither had ever read it, the feeling this alienating athenaeum produced was comparable to what was described in The Library of Babel. [1]

Since there were few clocks present outside those painted ones that happened to be melting and covered in ants, time was hard to measure, adding to the library's maddening nature. Cody mused on this and had to suppress a chuckle. Madness would be a fitting motif, after all, the person they were searching for was related to the maddest person they knew.

When the silence became too much for him, Cody spoke up in a hushed whisper, "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," the former Queen Bee replied in just as restrained a tone, "I need to find out if it's true. Since this is Izzy we're talking about it might be legit."

After that, a prolonged period lacking in auditory communication between the pair followed as they continued their odyssey to places unknown over battered burgundy rugs, worn purple carpet, and archaic wooden chairs that belonged either in a museum or dumpster.

Eventually, after passing what he swore to be the fourth bookshelf with identical book spines displayed like mocking phraseological peacocks, Cody piped in, "Okay, remind me again, what does she look like? I think I've met her once, but I'm drawing a blank here."

The raven-haired goddess paused for a moment to come up with as short a description as possible for her still sleepy boyfriend to work with, "She's a little redheaded nerd, always hunched over with her nose in a book."

Cody snorted. "We're in a library. Can you be a little more specific?"

Grumbling at seeing his point and unknowingly making such an obvious mistake, she added, "Her hair is always in a bun and she wears glasses."

"Does she usually dress up like someone from Harry Potter?" Cody asked suddenly.

Tapping her chin, Heather had to think about that one for a moment. She visualized their target's typical clothing of choice, though it wasn't easy because of the mundane, passé nature of it. The fashion-savvy mind of the former Queen Bee struggled to remember such drab attire but eventually the details started to emerge from foggy memories seen at a passing glance. "Yes," Heather finally said, "Yes she does; a pleated skirt, button down shirt, petty coat, even an honest-to-god necktie. No robes but I wouldn't be surprised if she had a wand stuck up her ass." she released as light a snort as possible before turning to Cody and asking, "Why?"

Without saying a word, her boyfriend pointed to a nearby table, one seemingly distanced from the others. With clothing almost matching the dreary color scheme of the aged library, it took Heather a few moments to follow her boyfriend's extended finger to exactly what he was pointing at. Sure enough, there she was. Scarlett Friday. A massive stack of thick books on either side framed the petite nerd whose face was buried in a massive encyclopedia older than the country itself.

She looked back at Cody, and simply nodded, confirming that this was indeed who they were looking for. They didn't make an immediate beeline for her however, a habit that the former Queen Bee in her old life. Before conversing with anyone, a few minutes of observing them without their knowing they were being watched could tell you more than a few hours of guarded conversation. While searching for a threesome partner on one occasion the Tech Geek had compared it to a tiger stalking a deer. With a pleased smirk at being compared to such a strong, solitary apex predator, Heather agreed. In a terrain foreign to her, the apex predator of this university she surveyed her soon to be quarry.

They say that when alone people are at their most natural. But if that was the case, Scarlett Friday almost seemed like a robot. Her posture was unnaturally stiff, and what did seem natural caused a brief flare-up in long since dealt with antagonism towards nerdy people. There was her hair up in a prim and proper bun with a few loose strands here and there, her thin wire rim glasses, the pressed and unflattering clothes that didn't so much as hint at anything resembling a worthwhile figure. All and all, she seemed like a stereotypical bookworm, which she didn't hesitate to share with Cody.

"How do you know her again?" he asked still trying to pry his mind from the depths of morning fog, his voice even softer than before out of instinct.

"We're in the same Lit class. She's actually the top of the bell curve, always getting perfect scores," Heather explained.

"What's she like in class?" Something…he wasn't sure what, but there was something odd about the redhead they were moving closer and closer towards. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it almost felt...familiar.

"I would say mousy, but that would imply she was always twitchy or nervous. It's more like she's a android," Heather briefly paused, "uh…I meant cyborg with some kinda glitch and confidence issues. If she isn't called on or giving a presentation you wouldn't even know she was there she's so quite and still. She never talks to anyone either, unless they get a fact wrong, then she corrects them, or asks to be left alone if anyone tries talking to her."

"First of all, the fact that you know the difference between a android and a cyborg is hot," Cody said before giving the embarrassed former Queen Bee a quick, tongue filled kiss. After marveling at the quick blush that had cropped up, his demeanor became more deadpan when shifting back to the redhead. "And second, are you sure that's her? I'm having a really hard time imagining someone that…normal being related to Izzy."

"You're preaching to the choir on that one," Heather remarked, knowing where he was coming from due to having the same explosive and mad cackling memories as her boyfriend. Not sure what else to say, she added with a shrug, "Adoption, maybe?"

That caused Cody to snicker, before shaking his head and asking, "You really want to do this? Because if she really-"

"Yes," Heather replied curtly though not deliberately cutting him off. "It's not like we have anything to lose. At worst, we've wasted a little time…which we can make up for with some fun later after Gwen's gone for the day," she teased with a bewitching grin she knew would get Cody's motor running. His concern should this turn out to be someone related to Izzy was well warranted, but she'd made up her mind and would deal with any possible consequences.

She already had the RCMP on speed dial just to be safe.

The couple finally approached the table, where they stood for a few moments imagining that their presence would cause Scarlett to look up from her book. It did not. Growing tired of waiting, Heather cleared her throat. The redhead's gaze remained laser-focused onto the pages. Rolling her eyes and now annoyed, Heather finally spoke, "Scarlett Friday."

That caused a reaction, with the redhead jumping a bit in her seat before looking at the source of the voice with wide eyes. The duo assumed this would start a conversation between the three of them. It did not. In fact, the girl who looked like a Harry Potter cosplayer just stared at the couple, her expression alarmed yet demure, and oddly distant.

Realizing that more would be needed to get anything done, Heather restrained the urge to roll her eyes again, and simply asked, "Are you Scarlett Friday?" Again, there was no reaction and Heather felt her annoyance growing. She had encountered socially awkward guys and girls before of course, hell she'd been with Cody for a few years now, but this genius seemed to take it to a new level. She was sure her lover now understood what she had meant by calling Scarlett some kind of cyborg. The ebony-haired beauty decided to go for broke and added, "Izzy Crown's cousin?"

That got a reaction out of the plain and passive redhead both Cody and Heather couldn't have missed with both eyes covered.

"Yes," Scarlett said. Her voice matched her appearance to a T, sounding subdued and librarian-equse, with a faintly nasally twinge to it. "How did you know that?"

Heather handed over the birthday card her crazy cousin had sent, the one mentioning her by name, with instructions to give it to her 'absolute most favorite awesome cousin'. Scarlett examined the card betwixt her fingers as intensely as she had the book pages, though there were significantly fewer words to analyze. She pursed her lips, then her glass-covered gaze returned to Cody and Heather as it regarded them with suspicion. Without saying a word, or taking her eyes off the couple she reached into her purse, which was hanging off the back of her chair. Within a few seconds, she pulled out a small pinky sized flashlight. The confusion felt at why she would need a flashlight in the middle of the day ended when Scarlett turned it on, revealing it to be a black light.

New confusion replaced it, though, the beam shone across the card revealed that quite a bit more had been written on its surface, hidden by invisible ink. Cody and Heather were both shocked by this turn, not having expected a development that seemed to be fresh from the script of some Cold War era spy thriller, though it gave both a few interesting ideas for fun later down the road.

Scarlett seemed unfazed; more bored than anything as the hidden message appeared as though this was perfectly normal. Despite their best efforts, the couple couldn't make out what had been written in what Heather strongly suspected was code.

The redheaded genius didn't have the same illiteracy. She understood the message well, returning the card from Izzy back to Heather without sharing the details of the missive. She did however remove her purse from the back of the chair and put it on the table, and after rummaging through its contents for a moment produced a small black and gold trimmed card case. After opening it, she took something out and then returned the case back to her purse with robotic precision.

With that, Scarlett looked around, displaying the most emotion Heather had yet to see from her all year. Looking mildly concerned and possibly even worried; the feeling of a spy thriller grew when she then motioned for the couple to come closer. A bit confused and now very curious, they did.

"Itsy must reallylike you," Scarlett said once they were in what she deemed acceptable distance. Neither had the presence of mind to question the nickname, too much on the edge of their seats by this point. "Offer me your hand, Heather," she stated simply but directly. With no social grace, her request came across as a tone-deaf command more than any request should have. Chalking it up to reading about talking to people more than actually talking to people, Heather did as Scarlett ordered. The redhead took the demanded hand with one of her own, then placed something into the petite feminine palm. Heather noticed that whatever Scarlett took from the case was small, rectangular and rigid. Before the former Queen Bee could look at it Scarlett closed Heather's fingers over it. "I work Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, seven to midnight." she furthered 'explained' clinically.

Deciding to look at what was, fed up with all this cloak-and-dagger crap her fingers barely twitched when Scarlett stopped her. "Don't look at it here," the Quiet Brainiac added, "Not until you are somewhere else. Away from me. I suggest your dorm. If you decide to use it, you'll be able to just cut to the front of the line. This exchange is over. Have a nice day," she finished with a finality born of lacking the politeness of basic social cues.

Giving Cody and Heather no more thought, Scarlett returned her purse to the back of her chair. Within picoseconds her nose was buried back into the massive tome it had been plunged into previously as though the entire unusual and entirely one-sided conversation had never happened. The couple looked at each other, then at Scarlett. Cody attempted to thank the redhead, but got no response. Figuring they weren't going to get anything else out of her, the duo left, both looking over their shoulders with a slightly paranoid shade crawling around their skulls.

They returned to their dorm quickly, spurred on by their curiosity at the offered gift and fully enraptured by the thrill of secrecy. After all, Izzy never did anything on a small scale, but this was unusual by her standards and they were curious to see what their friendship with the oddball redhead had won them.

Only once they were back in the safety and seclusion of their bedroom did Heather open her hand and they finally look at what they'd been given.

In Heather's hand were two black business cards with gold lettering reading 'Cherry Tappers' on one side and nothing on the other. She examined the cards as closely as possible without a crime lab to work with and didn't find much to offer any substantial insight.

Heather's lack of understanding only grew when she turned to Cody, and saw him at his phone. "What the hell is it?" she asked, noticing the beet red blush across his face. When he didn't answer, she took the phone and understanding came as soon as she saw for herself what he'd found.

Her technology-loving boyfriend had apparently googled Cherry Tappers, and her face rapidly matched his. Not knowing what else to do, she turned to Cody and it was her turn to ask, "Are you sure about this?"

Cody's response was simple and cutting. "She really is Izzy's cousin, after all."

Heather paused in thought, before nodding in agreement. "Now I can see it."

---

Thursday, October 30th, 2014 (7:20 PM)

Flickering bright-red light sporadically illumined the seats of the parked Delorean's interior, casting the couple sitting within by retreating and advancing shadows of ruby. Above the stationary vehicle was an electronic neon sign featuring a pair of cherries overlapping to form the vague suggestive outline of a colossal cleavage, enticing people to enter.

It had been a few minutes since Cody had parked the vehicle, but neither had moved since. Part of the reason was because he wanted to savor the flavor of Heather not complaining about his beloved icon of geek culture for a change. He fought the urge to make a joke at this oddity, but as amusing as that was; he knew it wasn't the bigger reason why. But that didn't mean he was entirely sure what that main reason was. He had several guesses though.

"Heather, are you sure about this?" Cody asked, choosing for the moment to not give voice to any of them.

The Asian beauty turned to face Cody; the red lights highlighted her hidden hunger. She nodded, before adding, "You've been asking me that a lot today, haven't you?" Heather lightly chuckled, and Cody joined in. After the laughter subsided, she answered in earnest, with a small twinkle to her grey eyes and a small smirk stretched on her lips. "Yes Cody, I am sure about this. I think we should try this out, just to see what it's like."

Her boyfriend wasn't entirely convinced however. At the surface level, Heather seemed fine, even eager, but the observant boyfriend had been with someone quite skilled at hiding their emotions for years. He wouldn't have been able to explain it, but he felt something was wrong and decided to press the issue further, giving voice to what in his mind was the most likely cause of this decision.

"This is because of Gwen, isn't it?"

"Why would you think that?" Heather responded, deflecting his attempt at information with another question.

Cody was not blind to the basic form of conversional manipulation. In fact, he had become something of an expert at both detecting it and countering it. After all, he had done it himself just a few seconds ago. He knew that Heather knew that, so her using so obvious a tactic after he had just done so himself meant she either didn't have the will to use something that might actually work, or she was merely acting out of habit. Both possibilities reaffirmed his resolve that something was amiss in his great girlfriend.

Either way, the Tech Geek's response was non-verbal but said so very much in their silence. He gestured to the strip club they had parked themselves in front of, not even bothering to raise an eyebrow or change his expression. As much as Heather loved sex, never before had she suggested going to a place like this over the years, and that was despite the topic coming up a few times.

Of course Heather knew all of this, so she didn't see the point in denying it. The former Queen Bee allowed some of her sincere emotional state to slip through her expression, if only to ease his concerns. "She might have something to do with it, yes." Heather answered, with a small frown.

Cody frowned internally but kept his face neutral, peering into her unguarded eyes looking for more, trying to see what she was willing to show him. One of the things he had learned about his girlfriend was her emotions were like ants, for every one you found there was at least ten more that were hidden but always nearby. He knew that Heather was feeling way more insecure than she was letting on, but something else was stirring below the grey depths.

"You know," he said after a few moments, "we don't have to do this. We could go back and watch a movie or something, maybe a few old timey musicals?" Cody pressed, advocating the film genre he hated the most, but he knew his girlfriend loved.

Heather gave her boyfriend a soft, genuine smile. His attempts to help her were obvious, and she loved that. There wasn't a single suggestion of smoothness to his efforts either which only served to make her feel a tiny bit more guilty. "Thanks sweetie," she said, "But need I remind you that with Gwen living in our dorm, we don't exactly have much time to ourselves? Even if you haven't been chaffing from that, I know I sure as fuck have."

Cody wanted to refute that to ease Heather's mind, but he knew that would be a bold-faced lie. Gwen hadn't even been staying with them for a week, and already they were both feeling more than a little backed up. Overnight they had gone from fucking twice a day whenever and wherever they wanted in their dorm to not a bit of fun in three days.

Even earlier today, the fear of the Goth returning at any moment limited their activities to making out and pawing each other through clothing. For once, the Tech Geek might have been just as sexually starved as Heather. Since Gwen moved in he hadn't so much as jerked off, fearing the minefield he would walk into if he were caught masturbating in front of the girl he had lusted over in his teenage years. Besides, he occasionally caught himself thinking of those surprising big tits on the Goth. He might have been a leg guy, but he loved boobs too and the more he could avoid tea-bagging the hornet's nest that was his undecided feelings towards Gwen, the better.

Lit by the sultry scarlet of the sign, Heather smirked in victory seeing Cody's dilemma. It honestly cheered her up. Sometimes seeing someone squirm really made her feel better. Not reacting to what she had just seen, Heather continued with poised dignity. "I've been looking for alternatives for some time now anyways. I just never had the kick in the butt to pursue them in earnest. I've wanted something new we could do together."

He raised an eyebrow at this.

Rolling her own eyes, Heather simply reminded, "Bisexual."

Accepting it, thought still looking unconvinced, Cody nodded and got out of the Doleran, Heather following. The couple charting untested waters made their way to the entrance.

They approached the line that wouldn't have looked out of place at an amusement parks grand opening, bypassing it and headed straight to the bouncer as Scarlett instructed. The man cut an impressive, muscular figure, however, being around Jasmine for so long had made his great height a non-factor. He might have been tall, but he wasn't six foot six, nor did his baldhead and cheap suit scare Heather. Regardless, he glared at them with practiced, petrifying perfection from behind his dark tinted shades. "Get to the back of the line, kids! We're at our occupancy limit." His voice was neither loud nor quite, but it carried a certain strength to it over the crowd and racket filling the air.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes or fire off an emasculating comment, Heather simply held up the two tickets Scarlett had provided between her fingers. The bouncer inspected them, for a spilt second an eyebrow visibly raised before settling. Returning his gaze to the couple, he asked to see their IDs, which were dug out and handed over. Giving them a once-over with his trained eyes, he returned them then stepped aside from the doorway to the club, offering a parting comment of "Enjoy yourselves" with robotic, automatic ease before returning his attention to a long line that began grumbling angrily.

As Cody and Heather entered the seedy establishment, they experienced their first sensation of a location designed to elicit many. An auditory punch in the face, the music playing within seemed loud enough to rupture eardrums even from outside the strip club. Powering through the bombarding waves or sound and pulsing lights, the couple found themselves in another world from anything they had ever known.

Though Heather was no stranger to nightclubs, neither had any idea of what to expect the moment they walked through the entrance. They both had the same general idea of what such a place would look like however, shaped by years of movies, television shows and the occasional video game. They imagined a dark den of vice with a few sickeningly overpowering lights that made the darkness around their edges more intense, tacky glitter everywhere, filth on every surface not covered in more repulsive substances, and musky air choked by thick smoke that created a near perpetual haze.

What the pair found as they peered around both matched and clashed with those preconceptions.

The interior of Cherry Tappers was better lit than they would have imagined, with an evenly spread dark crimson illumination the left it devoid of any dark shadowy corners. It couldn't have been considered bright pre say, but it wasn't as seedy as you'd guess. The air was refreshingly barren of the flaky grainy grey smoke clouds of cigarettes, with the only vapors swirling above and around more like the mist from smoke machines. What impressed Heather the most, out of everything she saw was the shockingly clean state of everything. It wasn't spotless but it would pass any surprise health inspection no problem.

Having observed the general details, Cody and Heather's eyes were drawn elsewhere. To one side along the wall there was a bar with about twenty stools lined up along its length, a pair of attractive young women 'manning the bar' and playing things up with several of the patrons sitting on the stools hooting, catcalling, and whistling. Their faces showed a guarded wisdom beyond their years, no doubt forged by their time working here. The winks, the flits, it was easy for Heather to pick up on the game they played though just how much they enjoyed it she couldn't tell.

At the center of the room there was a catwalk style stage with a single pole at the end stretching from the celling to the floor, while flanking both sides of the back of the stage there were a pair of massive television screens, both displaying the dancer currently performing, strutting her way across the platform in perfect sync with the beat of the song. There were a few dozen small circular tables scattered around the catwalk and a few couch-like booths, most of which were filled with cheering patrons.

The audience was predominately men, as one would imagine, though there were a few women.

Cody looked around at the whole scene with extreme giddiness and matching nervousness. He had secretly dreamed of coming to a place like this for years. The fact he was here with his girlfriend incongruously made it even better, as odd as that may seem. He turned to Heather, and asked; "You think Noah will believe me when I tell him about this?"

The former Queen Bee didn't respond at first, and that had Cody more than a little concerned. He couldn't know what she was thinking with her often-indecipherable façade raised. She always made a much more conscious effort to hide her true emotions whenever in public, something that still bothered him even after all this time.

As for Heather, she was feeling an odd combination of irritation and elation as she drank in Cherry Tappers with all her senses.

The irritation came from the hollering and hooting clientele bleating at the dancing woman, both on the catwalk and backstage. To her, it took away from the show, the experience and electrified atmosphere. That and thanks to her years of ballet she knew how difficult in was to dance worth a damn to an audience acting like possessed howler monkeys with Tourette's. If they would just shut the hell up until the end of the show there would have been no distractions, no detractions, only the pure art itself to take in and absorb.

Her elation came from the show itself, the erotic grace of the trained dancer combined with the allure of seeing exposed curves and bare form undulating and jiggling to the rhythmic beats and pulsing lights. She also appreciated and enjoyed other women, not just dancers or servers but customers. Her grey gaze gandered at every female form present, and found the majority to be quite pleasing and easy on the eyes. She felt like a kid in a candy store, with a desire to sample every treat and gorge to her hearts content. She knew they would be coming here again, possibly quite often. As ever though, she kept these clashing emotions impeccably suppressed under a fortified face of detached observance.

Then that silvery stare noticed something of particular note, at the bar. Cody followed her line of sight to see another pair of girls crawling atop the counter and starting to dance in front of a gathered group of guys whistling and cheering. He tugged Heather's wrist before asking, "You okay?"

That managed to shake Heather out of her stupor and pull her attention back to the present. "Uh…yes, I—I'm fine," she said, getting her bearings once again. "I, uh, I just thought I recognized someone over there."

"Who?"

"It's unimportant," she waved away the question.

Cody was about to inquire deeper when someone approached them, no doubt having noticing their having remained near the entrance.

"Welcome to Cherry Tappers," a sweet sounding voice called out above the blaring music just to be heard. Sounding familiar, when Cody and Heather turned their jaws dropped almost comically. With mouths still wide, they looked to each other just to assure themselves that this was real, that they were both seeing the same person before them in this Twizzler-tinted territory of tittied tantalization.

Wearing impossibly tight booty shorts and a low cut tank top with a clipboard in hand was none other than Zoey. Her brown eyes remained focused on the clipboard, seemingly unaware of just how revealing her uniform was, revealing enough to cause both the Tech Geek and former Queen Bee to feel a very familiar longing. "Would you like a table or a booth? Or would you rather you just take your drinks standing?" the Indie Chick asked professionally, still not looking at the daunted duo.

Both Cody and Heather were too shocked to respond, and their silence finally caused Zoey to look up at Cherry Tapper's newest costumers.

Any and every trace of trained professionalism was atomized as the redhead's face matched the two dazed countenances.

Zoey stood there, too stunned to even be mortified. Her mouth hanging open, she became a statue of Renaissance era mastery, with trashy modern decoration. A Botticelli's Birth of Venus clad in the attire of a shameless, insecure modern teenager.

Eventually, mirroring Galatea after being brought to sentience by Aphrodite, Zoey found motion and life. They were present as a blush bordering on sunburn and a nervous laugh barely keeping the desperate despair beneath the surface hidden.

"Oh…uh…h—hey guys. Go—good to see you," Zoey stuttered, the words struggling to escape a face as red as her hair. "Wh—what are you doing here? And…how much is it going to take to make you forget that you saw me here?" she cringed at that.

Ignoring those questions, and resisting the urge to poke fun at the unexpected meeting, Cody asked the obvious, "What are you doing in a strip club, Zoey?"

The redhead cringed again, fighting against the embarrassed blush on her cheeks. "It—it's not as bad as it looks…honest!" She paused and recomposed herself, realizing almost instantaneously how unconvincing that sounding. "I—I don't dance or anything like that, I'm just an attendant and a waitress. Uh, and I sometimes cover a shift at the bar."

"You're a bartender?" Heather asked disbelievingly, "You?" One particular instance of the sweet senior not handling liquor well came to her mind, nearly eliciting a laugh.

"What?" Zoey asked in a knee-jerk manner. "Just 'cuz I don't drink doesn't mean I can't make them."

The former Queen Bee let that discovery slide for the time being, instead choosing to repeat Cody's question, "Why are you here, Zoey?"

Feeling like a turtle forced to leave its shell, Zoey spoke with a slightly timid tone. "It pays extremely well for a part-time job. And since it's only a few minutes' drive I pay next to nothing on gas. And…the employee discounts are also really good."

Heather snickered at that, with it taking Zoey a few seconds to realize why. When it clicked, the Indie Chick shot out a rather indignant, "Hey!" Being familiar with Heather, she knew what the younger student's mind took that to mean and had to resist smacking her with the clipboard in hand. "I meant the food, not the dances!" Heather didn't look convinced, which she conveyed in a bemused, doubting smirk. Groaning, Zoey added, "It's not healthy, but their wings are good and all the food's cheap. I'm on a tight budget, unlike some people here."

That seemed to convince Heather, or at least give her enough reason to wipe the coy grin off her face. "Now will you please tell me what you are doing here?" Zoey asked. Before either Cody or Heather could answer, she added, "because I didn't think you'd go looking for…uh…female friends," Zoey's blush reddened anew, "in a place like this."

Cody and Heather looked at each other, and shared an amused smile before turning back to their friend. "That's not the case," the Tech Geek assured. "We're here because of one hell of a surprise birthday present."

Hearing that, Zoey smiled a million watt smile. "Congratulations Cody!" she all but shouted cheerfully. Before the Tech Geek realized it, he found the redhead's hands around the back of his head, and any questioning of her sudden action was buried and silenced as his face was pulled somewhere dark, warm and inviting. His cheeks feeling round and doughy pillows of warmth that molded and conformed while pressing with a pleasant weight, it took him a moment to realize that Zoey had submerged his head into her cleavage. He had no idea if this was standard practice for employees of Cherry Tappers, or if this was some special gesture by Zoey alone, but either way he wasn't eager to end it.

Heather watched the display before her with rarely seen surprise etched across her face. The sensations conjured up by it only increased when Zoey's expression changed. Before it had been a smile of joy. But now it was confusion that defined her facial features. Confusion, Heather noted to herself, not shame or embarrassment or anger. She would not have guessed that for the timid seeming elder classmate. "Wait a second," Zoey started, with Cody still crammed into her crimson covered cleavage, "I thought your birthday was in April, Cody? Isn't that what you said during World Tour?"

"It'sth Apoimp fhmmth, ackffly," The Tech Geek attempted to respond, with his surroundings absorbing most of the spoken syllables, and all coherency. Realizing the situation, she released Cody's head to reveal a face wearing a loopy through still recognizable large grin.

"It's April first, actually," Cody clarified. "And the present is for Heather, not me, but I still greatly appreciate your thoughtful present," he said with a degree of smoothness and a pleased wink.

Only now did a look comparable to embarrassment color Zoey's cheeks. She powered through that as she turned to Heather, only now realize the minefield she walked into by shoving another woman's man into her bust. "S—sorry, Heather," she said with difficulty. Her mind racing with all of the justified horrible actions Heather could do to her.

Without changing her expression in the least, Heather instead asked a simple question in reply.

"Where's my hug?"

The redhead looked surprised at first and eyed the shorter young woman for moment, her brown gaze lingered a little longer than what many would deem warranted given the situation. Then, realizing she was making things awkward she mentally shrugged her shoulders and laughed. 'Why not?' she thought to herself as she gently took hold of the sides of Heather's head, then similar to what had happened to her boyfriend earlier the former Queen Bee's head was thrust into the soft, pillowy haven of Zoey's C-cup bust.

Summoning forth a little more enthusiasm than Cody had, the redhead almost shrieked when Heather lightly motorboated her presented knockers. Thanks to her threesomes and escapades before getting with Cody, Heather had gone cheek-to-tit several times and knew what she was doing. Despite this, Heather couldn't help but contemplate that while Lindsay's breasts might have been larger and more pleasant to be encased in; Zoey's ranked as the second best from her experiences. Noting how she seemed to be submerged for longer than her boyfriend, she decided there might be a need to investigate this detail later. After a few more seconds of metronome melons, Zoey released Heather's head, and when the ebony-haired Asian was standing upright Zoey smiled as she said, "Happy birthday, Heather."

Cody nudged his girlfriend when their redheaded friend released her from her appealing grasp, showing a cocky, knowing grin, he asked, "You happy with the tickets now?"

Zoey piqued at hearing him, asking, "Tickets? What tickets? Can I see them?"

Heather showed her the tickets, both still in hand as she lacked the presence of mind to put them away after entering. Blinking as few times in shock, Zoey whistled and chuckled with wide eyes. "Wow, you must be really good friends with someone to get Premium Passes."

"Premium Pass?" asked Heather, her mind rising from the depths of reminiscing at the mention of something possibly valuable.

"It's like a membership card, but not exactly," Zoey explained. "You can only get them from employees, they aren't sold, ever, period. They get you in for free at any time we're open and the same employee discount I get, but you still have to pay for, like, food, beer, or private dances…well, after the first one anyways, that's on the house." She saw the understanding fill Cody and Heather's faces. "And that leads back to my original question, are you here for the bar? A table or a booth? Or do you want a private dance?"

Again Cody and Heather looked to each other for a moment, holding what seemed to be a silent conversation, after which Heather turned back to Zoey and asked, "Is Scarlett Friday available at the moment?"

The previous good cheer on Zoey's face was gone so fast the perception of the change could have caused whiplash. "She—uh…she's here, working for the night. But she only does—uh, private…dances…" she let the statement hang in the air for only a moment for asking the obvious, "How the hell did you get these tickets, from Scarlett of all people?"

Cody just chuckled while Heather commented, "It's a secret, and ultimately unimportant. What matters is that we would very much like to cash these tickets in, Zoey."

"Are you absolutely sure about…her?" Zoey's voice spat 'her' like it was rotten fruit. "I mean, there are two other dancers here for the night if you want a VIP dance, and there are a couple of others that do private dances..."

"Yes, I am sure," Heather stated with a perplexed eyebrow raised. "Is that a problem, Zoey?"

At that, Zoey got evasive, her eyes drifting off and away. "Oh…wel…um…I just—just thought you might like someone else," the Indie Chick said, clearly struggling to be polite despite some unspoken negative opinions that may sour her friend's birthday gift. Then, against that, she muttered passively, "someone who isn't complete bitch." Her often pleasant voice became harsh.

Both Cody and Heather regarded the redhead with confused interest. They never could have imagined Zoey of all people calling anyone that, and it might warrant further investigation, but right now they only really cared about if she could stimulate their sexually stirrings.

Cody shrugged. "It's her gift, so it's her choice."

"Yes," Heather affirmed, "I'm sure. We would like a dance with Scarlett."

Burying her resistance to the idea, Zoey guided the duo deeper into the club, behind what they had thought before to be one wall but was actually just a very well hidden hallway down one side. As they walked, Cody once again noticed Heather looking off at the same group at the bar as before, surprised that she wasn't even glancing at the enjoyable sight of Zoey's curvy backside as it swayed side to side. He was tempted to press the matter but chose against it for the time being, they were here to make her happy, after all.

The journey after that was unremarkable as they passed through the right side of the back stage, leading to a small dark hallway lined with a number of rooms Heather guessed to be dressing rooms as they each had names on the doors, stage names she guessed by the looks of them. Eventually they reached what looked like a small break room, where several girls wearing revealing costumes of varying sorts conversed among themselves, drank steaming cups of coffee, or smoked cigarettes.

As appealing as the various voluptuous vixens were, Heather was here on a mission; one she was determined to see to completion. So she surveyed her surroundings for Scarlett with a sharp eye. Even with the gaggle of girls, it wasn't shocking how quickly Heather spotted the redhead, mainly because Scarlett was one of the few present not wearing the same outfit as Zoey. Instead, she was wearing something similar to what she had been wearing in the library though with a few subtle and other not so subtle alterations. The skirt was shorter, the socks higher, and the top far tighter.

She was standing next to another dancer, a tall and extremely well endowed brunette who was sitting in a wooden chair while massaging her ankle. Cody and Zoey failed to find Scarlett yet, so Heather decided to use the opportunity to observe the redheaded enigma. Even with the din of the clashing conversations, Heather was close enough to the pair to eavesdrop on their exchange.

"I am still perplexed at how you pulled off such a effort," Scarlett was saying, in the same dry voice as in the library. Apparently that was her default pitch of vocal infliction. "I question if I would have been capable of accomplishing such a successful recovery."

Still massaging her foot with one hand, the busty bikini-clad brunette waved off the comment with the other. "It was nothing," she said unthinkingly, almost automatically.

"I am inclined to disagree with that dismissive assessment," Scarlett countered, pressing the point, "If I had fallen on stage in the middle of performing, I would have been too embarrassed to just get back up and keep going as if it never happened, especially with the cyclopean television screens displaying it for all to see. I wouldn't even want to ponder the inescapable likelihood of them zooming in on your prodigious mammaries and the equally probable occurrence of a nipple being briefly jostled from your brassiere. But it is possible nobody noticed given your unfortunate display of clumsiness."

The brunette stopped massaging her foot and looked up at Scarlett for a few moments. Her lips bent downward in a frown, then she repeated, "It was nothing." But it sounded more forced than the previous utterance. More than that, on the edges of the words, there was the echo of mounting dread. The redhead looked unfazed, not picking up on that.

"Scarlett! You've got a coupla clients!" Zoey shouted, finally finding her. "They asked for a private show!" The Indie Chick spoke louder than she would have wanted, but she was quite eager to break up the awkward conversation that had been occurring.

The other redhead looked at Zoey and advanced towards her with almost robotic precision. Her response to this new information was simple and candid. "Who?"

Zoey pointed with a turned thumb towards Cody and Heather, whom Scarlett stared at for a moment before nodding her head in understanding.

"If you are all good, I need to get back out front," Zoey stated, before turning to Heather and Cody. "You'll be able to pick up your permanent passes before leaving. Enjoy your dance, and happy birthday Heather," she said warmly with a smile. Before leaving, she turned and cast a harsh glare at Scarlett, who didn't even seem to process the gesture, merely regarding her newest customers.

"Greetings," Scarlett said dispassionately. "I assumed I'd be seeing you soon. I calculated a sixty-nine percent likelihood of your liquidation of your free passes within a week."

"Sixty-nine, eh? Why, Miss Scarlett, whatever could you be suggesting?" Heather asked coyly.

"Nothing," came the blunt rebuttal. "That was the number I reached after considering a variety of factors, not some desperate attempt at flirtatious phraseology of a venereal nature."

The coyness left Heather's face, allowing her mild bitterness at Scarlett's own to shine through her often accommodating façade. "I hope you are better at dancing than flirting."

"I am," Scarlett responded in a similarly frank manner, either not noticing or caring about Heather's obvious displeasure. She then turned and casually commanded the pair. "Follow me. I will show you my acumen in biologically stimulating choreography." Without waiting, the redhead began walking out of the break room and towards the private dance suites. The confused couple swiftly followed and was able to keep pace.

While they walked, Cody leaned forward to whisper into his shorter girlfriend's ear, "Why didn't you tell Zoey that your birthday was weeks ago?" he asked, mainly just trying to strike up a little conversation after Scarlett's near robotic deportment nuked any of the residual sexual ambiance from their arrival.

Glancing over at her boyfriend, briefly taking her eyes off the pathway ahead of her, Heather shrugged and asked, "Would you turn down free boobs?"

Cody's grunt of a response was all the answer she needed, and Heather lightly grinned as her thoughts turned to the other redhead.

Scarlett led the couple down a short hallway, passing a new assemblage of rooms indicated by closed doors, each with a bright red light shining above the doorway. In the distance, Cody and Heather noticed a lone room that wasn't bathed in ruby radiance and assumed this was their destination.

"I would greatly appreciate it," the redheaded genius said steadily, with no lead-in, almost as if it were an afterthought, as she walked, "if you would choose to not disclose my working at a establishment of ill repute such as this to any of our classmates or professors. There would be most objectionable consequences if that information became public knowledge." She did not break stride, turn around, or face her newest clients.

"You don't want us to tell anyone you work here?" Cody asked raising an eyebrow at the obtuse vocabulary of such a simple request.

"That is what I said." Scarlett confirmed, sounding vaguely annoyed, like she had been asked to state the obvious after already doing so multiple times for the same question.

"I have no problem keeping it between us," Heather said with sensual jest, "if you can convince us with a few good dances." The former Queen Bee's voice, already pleasing to the ears and capable of stimulating the neither-regions, was presented its most titillating tone, one that was proven to affect men and women, even heterosexual women. She was eager to probe into the impervious demeanor of their soon-to-be erotic entertainer, as it had been far too long since she had a real challenge.

"Then I shall need to convince you, then," Scarlett said, completely unaffected by Heather's attempt at flirtation. Though she walked, the former Queen Bee balked at the reaction, unable to remember the last time her effects were so effortlessly disregarded. Even when they weren't successful, there was always some sort of reaction, whether it was disgust, anger, or repressed curiosity. But with Scarlett, there was nothing. Not even Jasmine, who was ironclad in her refusal of Heather's seductive advances came close to this level of infallible immunity. Heather was annoyed…and impressed, though the former Queen Bee didn't have to long consider that conflicted stance as they reached the alluded to location, the one door without rubicund illumination.

Inside was a small room, roughly half the size of their dorm bedroom. In the center was a small raised platform with a stripper pole in front of a couch that barely fit against the wall behind it, just large enough for two people. Aside from those few details, the space was surprisingly Spartan in its lack of décor.

Heather wasn't shocked; after all, if you got to this point you wouldn't be looking at anything without a pair of partially revealed knockers. A glint out the corner of her eye turned the former Queen Bee's attention to the upper right corner. One didn't date Cody Emmett Jameson Anderson for long without knowing such a glint when they saw it. Seeing the camera, she then spotted another on the opposite side of the ceiling. She figured there would be a few more better hidden. Turing to Scarlett, she asked, "What's up with the cameras?"

"They are for recording dance sessions, should the client desire a viewing of their erotic exploits for future use. To what exact capability they use the footage is unknown to me," Scarlett commented. "On the subject, since you brought it, do you know if would you be interested in purchasing the recording of my performance and our session? Or would you rather wait until afterwards to decide?" she asked, her voice unchanged from before.

Heather was mildly amazed she could not seem to care about the possibility of being recorded in what would basically amount to porn. "I think we will pass on that offer," she answered, doing her best to ignore the small whine from Cody. Not acknowledging her boyfriend's fractional disapproval, she asked, "So just what exactly do we get here?"

Scarlett motioned them towards the couch, signaling for the couple to sit, to which they compiled. "You get a private dance," Scarlett began, placing special emphasis on the word 'dance,' almost seeming like she was fighting to use such a simple word, and was abstractly annoyed doing so. "I will of course provide the most competent and satisfactory dance to which I am capable…but I will be further motived to enhance my efforts if I am tipped sufficiently well, ideally in advance of the performance." She paused, allowing that to sink in. "Also, to ensure that you understand, you are allowed to engage in physical contact with my person during the performance. Since Itsy vouched for you and has cashed in a rather substantial favor, I will allow you more leeway than normal. However, if I command you to stop, you will cease whatever action you are committing. You will only get a single warning. If you cease to end your action at once, security will forcibly remove you. You will get no refund, and you will never be allowed to return. Do you understand everything that I have just explained to you now?"

Cody and Heather nodded their heads. While doing so, Heather fished out a few bills and handed them to the redhead. Scarlett accepted the currency, then after counting it she tucked it away in the bra string taut over shoulder. "Then we shall begin," she commented as she got to the pole.

---

Sunday, November 2nd, 2014 (10:05AM)

Heather's grey gaze turned downward towards a card in her hand. It wasn't the Premium Passes, though Zoey had returned them. No, it was a card offered to her by Scarlett after she had completed her performance, one that simply had a number written on it: 1666. Her eyes then returned to normal eyelevel and saw the same number on the door before her. Scarlett had told her that this was her dorm number and if she wanted to arrange for her services again, she could come see her in-person to schedule an appointment.

That took some effort to remember however as something else strangled out most of the memories from that evening…namely Scarlett's dance. Heather was no stranger to sex. She was a master at almost everything associated with the subject, having charmed, seduced, and ravished her fair share of people in her relatively short lifetime and thought she knew everything there was to know.

Or at least enough.

Over the course of her routine, Scarlett had proven her so very wrong in more ways than she cared to count.

When their time was up, Heather had felt aroused in way she hadn't since ravishing Lindsay in the communal showers of Camp Wawanakwa. Virtually all of her restraint and desire to keep up a compellingly stone-faced façade had been utterly eradicated in the face of her seeping loins. She was one visible nipple or cockhead away from lunging at Cody and attacking with the kind of gusto normally reserved for Owen at an all you could eat buffet. Looking over at her boyfriend, she could tell he was of the same mind, the proof almost poking through his pants. She knew he was already at full mast and she had to fight the urge to take him right then and there.

Without a word, Cody grabbed Heather's hand and the two rushed out the small room. They ran through the hallway, the break room, and finally the club itself. They ran so fast that most of the shapes and colors they passed weren't even fully processed, appearing as abstract blobs. The only thing they had noticed about the hormone fueled dash was a man, noticeably drunk, running with equal gusto in the opposite direction, shouting that he would finally have his dance with Scarlett. Only the fact that he had almost run them over spared him the fate of being remembered as a conjectural watercolor but that wasn't dwelled on for any length of time.

The pair needed to fuck. Now. After being backed up for days, the floodgates were opened and nothing was going to hold them back. Though they would of course bonk each other brains out once they got back to their dorm, they needed to lessen that maddeningly, borderline volcanic desire at least a little. From the second they entered Cody's car…Cody had started entering Heather. She had mounted her boyfriend, stretching him out across the leather-covered driver seat, lowered his pants and boxers just enough that his spire of man-meat was standing proud, and did the same for her clothing, just enough to allow the spire entry into her quivering cavern.

Heather rode her boyfriend cowgirl style, in bliss even if she had to hunch herself over leaning forward due to the low ceiling. She was too horny to care if anyone saw them and that remained the case after cumming in Cody's car, and returning to their dorm. Restraining herself just long enough to make it to their bedroom, the true fun began when she threw herself at Cody, knocking him down onto their bed, and forcing a hand slickened by her own sexual release into his pants over his once again erect cock. Thus began a night-long erotic endeavor of thrusting bodies, sweaty flesh slapping against flesh, air dampened by the ragged breaths of desire ratcheted and released, swapped saliva, and an almost obscene amount of salty white cream savored.

One detail foreign to the cloudy rapture appeared in Heather's memory, like a fish rising up to just below the surface of a pond. While she had been riding Cody's cock in the parking lot, a man ran past them screaming in the more fright than DJ during either Island or Action, fleeing as if he had seen the devil himself. It wasn't until now, after the white-hot fire of craving had been slated that Heather realized it was the same man who nearly knocked her and Cody over, who had been screaming to see Scarlett.

She lightly laughed.

That helped her, partially because she knew she wasn't on her usual A-game for what she was planning. Though she was loathed to admit it, several things clouded her usually razor-sharp talents at conversational control. The itch, though slated days before, had left its usual numbing afterglow. Heather admitted normally the afterglow faded by now. More than faded, the craving had come back in earnest, weighing her resolve down. Even she couldn't fathom if meeting with the woman who had slated her so satisfactorily only to have the efforts seemingly wither up and die just as miraculously would negatively affect her. The greater factor however was her pride, which bristled at what she was about to do.

Aside from Cody in recent years, Heather had been incredibly self-reliant. If she needed something, no matter what it was she would get it, by herself. The notion of needing, not merely wanting but sincerely needing the help of another person made her skin crawl.

The former Queen Bee shook her head furiously, attempting to purge the crippling thoughts from her mind. She wouldn't allow them to stop her. Never. Giving the matter no more thought, Heather gently rapped her knuckles against the door. After a few knocks the door opened and Scarlett stood there. Heather had imagined she would see something resembling shock on the brainiac's face, but no such luck. Scarlett's face didn't change in the slightest; more over the redhead seemed to be looking her over. Her eyes wandered from her head to her feet several times over, possibly in the shock at her presence so soon after their last meeting even if her face failed to convey it. Maybe she was shocked or nervous after all? Normally she would have taken this for interest, but not with the way Scarlett was looking her over. Rather than as a possible sexual conquest, Heather felt more like an experiment being analyzed at a microbiological level.

"Remember me?" the former Queen Bee joked with a coy grin and raised eyebrow, hoping to start things off on the right note. Scarlett being caught off guard would help.

"Heather," Scarlett said, her eyes still not ceasing from their evaluating the person at her door, "a English word used for a variety of small shrubs with pink or white flowers commonly found in rocky territories. Most likely derived from the Middle English word hather, originating in Scotland in the early fourteenth century. Not used as a female proper name until the late nineteenth century, and not a popular one until the last half of the twentieth. In 1935, it was the 997th most common name in America. In 1975, it was the third." [2]

Heather, already in a less than optimal mindset, was dumbstruck by the random trivia. She had apparently underestimated how socially inept Scarlett was and how she thought. She could use that, after all she had years of experience with Cody. That realization gave her an idea of how to proceed with her pitch, but first she had to actually make the pitch. "Mind if I come in?" the former Queen Bee asked politely after a second's pause.

Scarlett nodded and moved aside, allowing the ebony-haired young woman entrance. Heather surveyed Scarlett's dorm, looking for any possible clues to help in what she was trying to do here. It was more or less what she had imagined, filled with columns of books and stacks of papers reaching towards the ceiling as far and high as her eyes could see. Of greater interest was a rather large world map on one of the walls, which took up the entire wall. While Scarlett closed the door, Heather decided to take a closer look and saw there was a rainbow of colored pushpins at various places all over the flattened depiction of the globe. Moved by genuine, though rapidly passing interest, and seeing it as a good conversation starter, Heather turned to Scarlett and asked, "What's up with all the pins?"

"They are placed I wish to one day visit," Scarlett answered, with what passed for animated excitement from her, which was barely different from her usual demeanor. Even Heather almost missed the distinction though the fact she caught it at all pleased her.

Encouraged by the faint, but real, effect it had, Heather looked over the map more closely, for other little bits of small talk to help coax Scarlett into giving her what she wanted. Even the smallest, most innocuous efforts could yield the best results. There were pins pressed into the indicated locations of many cities she noted, from Washington D.C. to Tokyo, from Wellington to Reykjavik. There wasn't much apparent rhyme or reason to the placement of pins…with one notable exception.

There was a disproportionately numerous amount of pins clustered in one very specific region.

"What's with all the pins in the Middle East?" Heather asked, as casual as could be.

"There are many places in that region of world that I wish to visit one day," Scarlett answered, offering no new information. Heather hid the deadpan look she wished to convey at such a painfully obvious answer. Before she had the chance to pursue further, Scarlett continued. "I am going to assume that your unexpected visit isn't to scrutinize my hypothetical global itinerary. Why are you here?"

Heather took the marginally disrespectful tone of the question in stride. If nothing else it was clear that Scarlett's bedside manner couldn't be fairly judged against that of most. Besides, she did come here unannounced, likely throwing Scarlett off her A-game exactly as she had hoped. Heather shot Scarlett a look of amused acknowledgement. "Straight to the point? I can respect that. I don't want to eat up too much of your time since this isn't a social visit, Scarlett. I'm here on business."

Green orbs behind glass eyed her carefully. For several seconds she was quiet. "What kind of business?" Scarlett asked, her usually neutral voice more guarded than usual.

"I would like you to give me some lessons," Heather explained vaguely; wanting to entice some interest in the socially inept redhead though going about it as nicely as she could, hopeful that it would help obtain what she wanted. The Quiet Genius' unnatural, tense body language and incompetence at small talk suggested someone who might leap at the prospect of engaging in any kind of social interaction. In a way, Heather almost saw Scarlett as a female Cameron who was better at hiding her sense of isolation and longing for camaraderie.

Scarlett looked at the former Queen Bee for a long moment before shaking her head. "I don't have time to tutor anyone," she said, seeming detached yet oddly uncomfortable, "I'm double enrolled and barely have enough time to sleep and complete my class work, let alone help someone else. This university has plenty of qualified tutors to assist you."

Heather didn't answer for a moment, and merely regarded Scarlett with camouflaged interest. She had expected, if not saying she would help instantaneously, then at least Scarlett would ask what she would want help with. Her reply began to slowly change Heather's evaluation of Scarlett. Maybe she wasn't longing for association like Cameron, maybe she was as naturally robotic and incompatible with humanity as appeared? That would make this much harder, like trying to persuade a toaster. And yet the suggestion of Scarlett being uncomfortable, and her voice becoming less guarded, challenged that.

The former Queen Bee, realizing and considering all of this within the time of a few taken breaths, effortlessly returned her attention to the present, to better clarify. "I don't need help with classes. I need lessons in how to…dance," she paused, building anticipation, noticing that Scarlett's expression became enlivened to an almost imperceptible degree, "like you did, for me and Cody."

"Cody and you," Scarlett corrected, as if on reflex, "that is the proper etiquette when speaking of yourself and another conjoined person in a sentence in Modern English." Heather resisted the urge to roll her eyes or fire off an instinctual insult at such nerdiness and her mental focus was slightly weakened by the effort. Luckily for her, after the impromptu English lesson, Scarlett had paused, apparently considering what Heather had actually said. Then, she nodded her head in understanding. Heather waited for an answer. "No," Scarlett finally said, "Once again, I lack the time to teach you. That has not changed. If you truly wish to develop acumen in biologically stimulating choreography, I would recommend seeking employment at Cherry Tappers. I could even offer a promulgation of approval to my employer, if that would be agreeable," she said casually.

Again, Heather was blindsided, even more severely. She never could have imagined being told to work at a strip club could sound so lifeless and clinical. This time, Scarlett's unintentional derailing of the conversation gave Heather pause, though it wasn't shown. The former Queen Bee chided herself. She usually wasn't this sloppy while conversing, not even when horny, drunk, or both at the same time. Something about Scarlett was throwing her off, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly what. In the heat of the moment, she chalked it up to this being the one time she needed something from a nerd she couldn't just seduce and found her irritating old habits rearing their ugly head. Not to mention, her itch was providing a minor but constant annoyance, acting like white noise. Scarlett wasn't helping the situation either. Normally, even with socially awkward people, reading them wasn't hard. Their faces were artworks with emotions and motives that could be gleamed with effort. But with Scarlett, her face and voice almost always remained so frustratingly unresponsive. During their conversation so far, she only detected emotion twice. Normally, even with glacial Gwen, she would have been able to perceive at least twenty subtle emotional indicators within the timeframe so far used with Scarlett. If most people's faces were artworks, Scarlett's was a picture of empty air taken in a white room.

Eventually, after what seemed eons but was in truth merely a few moments, Heather responded, "That…that won't be necessary." She was polite and yet firm. "There is only one guy I want seeing me shaking my goods, and it's Cody. Will you please help me show my boyfriend how much he means to me?" She continued, asking nicely and changing tactics. If offering social interaction and possible friendship wouldn't entice Scarlett, maybe appealing to the true reason she was here, laced with sickeningly sweet sincerity might. There was a twinge of pleading in her voice, which she loathed, though it might help her.

"No," Scarlett rebuked sharply, completely immune to the more empathetic approach. Heather was able to detect the third example of emotional change in the redhead, annoyance, minor, almost condescending annoyance, but annoyance nevertheless, The likelihood of this effort ending in failure skyrocketed, worrying Heather deeply. "At the risk of sounding like a malfunctioning gramophone, I really don't have the time to waste. Between my studies, my employment, my miscellaneous assignments and planning, I…" she paused, then quickly switched conversational tracks. "Never mind. The point being, I just don't have the time. Which is a rudimentary concept you seem incapable of comprehending. The only time I have devoid of my studies is when working at the club."

That gave Heather an idea, an idea that truthfully she wouldn't have preferred. Knowing it was most likely idiotic; she viewed it as cheapening the nobility of her debaucherous enterprise by making it something akin to her old days as a shallow manipulator. But given how the likelihood of success was plunging further than Lindsay's neckline, she wasn't too picky. Besides, she knew how well this method of incentive worked in the past.

"Then why don't I make it worth your while, and pay you for some dance lessons?"

Scarlett once again paused at that, her usually unexpressive stare conveying brief shock, then the distracted glaze of mulling new information over. Heather knew she struck pay dirt, and masterfully hid her smile. For all of Scarlett's intellect and inadvertent skill at artfully dodging her subtle manipulations, she would be spurred by the most basic and cliché of motivators, money. After such a stark cold-spell of success, Heather reveled in the ego-stroking warmth of her first effective blow against this unusual opponent. She rejoiced while waiting for Scarlett to resume the conversation. The former Queen Bee knew she would be more likely to triumph if she didn't push the matter, and waited for the Quiet Brainaic to continue it. She couldn't be too obvious, or let her thrill cloud her judgment. Whatever happened next had to appear like it was Scarlett's idea, like she was escalating the matter while merely reading from a script penned by Heather's cunning hand.

"If you had said anything else," Scarlett finally said, her voice losing the ominous air of annoyance that had cropped up, "I would have demanded that you evacuate the premises immediately for wasting my time." A bucket of cold water was dumped on the fire of Heather's sense of pride. Had she been so close to botching this without even noticing? "Perhaps if you provided me with monetary compensation equaling what I would lose from the time I would be working, I could be persuaded to educate you in this manner."

Though the wording was a little less assuring that she would have preferred, Heather still chalked it up as a win. She even went to so far as to clap her hands in a bit of theater. She needed to hide her role as the puppet master, to feign not seeing this outcome achieved. Truthfully, there was a little more sincerity in the gesture than she would have admitted. "It's no problem," Heather said accommodatingly, before adding with some charm, "I wouldn't want to deny you what you are owed for your remarkable services in the sensual arts. Now let's get down to brass tacks, Scarlett. How much would I need to pay you?"

"Five hundred dollars for each lesson would be sufficient," Scarlett said with momentum, unaffected by the subtle praise, with a voice as deadpan as could be.

Heather felt as if an atom bomb had been exploded in her face. Against all of her years of masking her emotions, her jaw dropped in a way no amount of misdirection could hide. Decades worth of finely honed talent had been sandblasted away with nine mundane words said as bereft of emotion as they could be. The former Queen Bee had assumed it would be pricey, but no more than two hundred dollars at most. Scarlett was demanding more than double what she would had viewed as acceptable, expansive but acceptable. With a bluntness rivaling Scarlett's own, Heather directly stated, "I'm not paying that much."

"That is your prerogative," Scarlett answered with a simple shrug of her shoulders; the first example of expressive gesticulation displayed the entire conversation, "but that is what I make on the average night. Unless you are willing to match that number, then my answer shall be no. It is simple arithmetic. No offense is intended."

Heather briefly bristled at that. Scarlett's hollow attempt at apology only made it worse. And what made it even worse still than that was it wasn't intentional. Heather had both sent and received enough bitchy, condescending rebukes in her life to know that.

The former Queen Bee then began to predict and contemplate a possible shift that was very likely to occur in the conversation, a detrimental one. She feared this was going to become a binary exchange, haggling over an agreed upon price. Usually this wouldn't be too much of an issue, but with Scarlett there wouldn't be as much wiggle room, not many ways to negotiate and pull the verbal tug-of-war towards her side outside of a higher number. Heather feared having to use arithmetic against a human calculator. Unless…

Inspiration struck. Tempering her joy at concocting a possible means of escape, she grinned. She would draw upon the one field that matched her intellect and skill at manipulation. She put a finger to her mouth, miming giving the matter some thought.

Heather batted her eyelashes a few times, projecting the kind of alluring aura she usually reserved for Cody. The few times she used this trick on heterosexual ladies, it had worked quite well, throwing them off, confusing them or just making them uneasy. And while Scarlett might have been as sexually expressive as an amoeba, unless she was asexual, she had a sex drive that Heather could hopefully exploit, or failing that a curiosity that could be tugged.

"You know, Scarlett," she began, giving her voice a sensual tone, the hushed cadence of a whispering lover, "while money's nice and all, it isn't everything. Would you be interested in considering…alternate means of payment for your services?"

Interest and caution once again mingled in Scarlett's eyes, the forth identifiable expression of emotion. "What are you suggesting, Heather?"

"Well, Cody and I," the former Queen Bee began, making sure to be structurally correct, "have means of rewarding those who help us aside from paper money and metal coins. I mean no offense, of course, but maybe we could help you in a arena of your life that is…probably lacking, what with your nonstop studying and supporting yourself?"

Heather let that statement hang there, smiling seductively while projecting practiced bedroom lit, being prepared to be more obvious if required. But by the microsecond of surprise and the briefest flashing of a blush, she knew it wouldn't be needed. She knew someone like the genius redhead would be more receptive to subtlety than blatancy. Scarlett understood enough to briefly live up to her namesake.

Her armor briefly cracked.

"I've heard about you two, and just what it is your referring to," Scarlett said, her voice and face mostly back to what they had been, "I only half-believed the rumor, seeing as how it seemed highly illogical. But I'm going to have to decline that offer. I'm straight."

"So is spaghetti until it gets hot and wet," Heather teased with a wink. Picking on the kind of person Scarlett was, she was pleased that she had said 'straight' instead of 'heterosexual.'

Scarlett batted a hand indifferently at the Queen Bee. "Cute, and cleverly worded, but untrue," she said. "Simply being in the sights of a sexually attractive member of the same sex can't override ones biological makeup. An organism can't override its genetic code simply by willing it. Things being hot or cold can't change that. Again, not interested."

"How can you know unless you've tried it? How can you know the hypothesis without observing and testing it again and again? That is the scientific method is it not?" Heather asked, upping the ante, every cadence brimming with as much seductive charm as she could muster, going out of her way to invoke the scientific method, hoping that may even slightly breach Scarlett's defenses.

"At all," Scarlett replied, more forcefully than before, an unwavering a mountain of iron.

Heather knew she wouldn't get anywhere with this approach, and she feared she lost ground. Because of that, she reluctantly returned to the previous conversation. Haggling a price. Dropping the bedroom lilt, Heather took a few moments to consider a new number. "Three hundred a lesson."

"That is two hundred less. There is no way I would agree to that."

"It's not two hundred less," Heather countered, "it's straight up cash, nontaxable. Literal money in your pocket. And you won't need to drive, so you'll be saving money on gas. Besides, you're basing off of what I assume is a generous generalization. There's no way you make that much every night without fail."

Scarlett pondered this, expressing what Heather hoped to be serious consideration. She even brought a finger to her mouth in thought. The third gesture this entire conversation. Surely that suggested something. "Salient points, Heather." She nodded in slight placation. "But I must once again decline. However, for presenting a fairly logical counterargument, I'm willing to lower my price." There was a pause so slight that a look of hope flashed on Heather's face before it was swiftly repressed. "I'm willing to lower my price to four hundred and fifty dollars a lesson." Heather's cringe at the number was unhidden. "Four hundred and fifty dollars is what I make for three private shows. And there are occurrences where I made more than that in just one show for a few additional efforts."

Against her best efforts, Heather found her mouth slightly agape at that revelation. Despite her earlier reservations, she muttered, "Maybe I should look into a job there over the summer, after all?" Then, she almost chuckled, finally fully grasping the old joke about guys blowing money at strip clubs. She wondered if that was the kind of "effort" Scarlett was referring to? Sadly, laughter was the last thing on her mind at this moment. Thought Heather had been manipulating people for years, almost decades, she was starting to feel some strain. There was something about Scarlett that demanded much more effort than most people. "Three seventy-five?" she meekly offered.

"No."

Nearly at her limit, Heather finally resisted the level of negotiation she truly desired. Fearing this would be her last chance, Heather offered, "Four hundred, Scarlett."

Once again, Scarlett did not speak for a prolonged period and regarded Heather probingly. The former Queen Bee felt dread surge through her veins like electricity. That maddeningly unreadable face was looking her over, almost like Heather was a work of art. The association, combined with that being a view Heather often took, unsettled her. She wondered if this is what others felt like when on the receiving end of such a stare.

"Counteroffer, Heather," Scarlett finally said, breaking the tense silence she created, "when a client pays for a private dance session, I'll do whatever that client desires, provided I am sufficiently reimbursed. If you are truly determined to learn how to dance like me, I suggest that you purchase private dances with me and use that time to learn how to successfully duplicate my talents. For four hundred dollars per private dance session."

Heather pushed her own talents at concealment to their breaking point to hide her elation. Finally! She had gotten what she wanted! For more money than she would have preferred, sure, double her ideal price to be honest, but regardless, she got the private dance lessons and with a little luck she'd be giving Cody a very Merry Christmas!

The light of her success almost blinded her to anything else. But then, a shadow of a thought crept into her mind and she foresaw an additional benefit to this new arrangement. She had assumed that either she would come to Scarlett's dorm, or Scarlett might visit hers, but Cherry Tappers offered a unique opportunity. "I can agree to that," she began, endeavoring one last effort at negotiation, one last attempt to retain something akin to the dominant position in this bout of logic and manipulations, "provided that I also get copies of the recordings of our sessions. So I can review and study them on my own time."

Scarlett didn't respond, but only for a moment or two. Heather imagined she was weighing the possible hassle of requiring them against a dedicated client willing to pay significantly more than most while only demanding a fraction of the usual actions necessary to be paid. The speed with which the conflict was resolved spoke volumes.

"That will not be a issue, Heather. In fact, the establishment can provide that anyway."

"They provide that?" Heather asked noncommittally as her eyes ever so briefly widened.

"Indeed. Any costumer can request a recording of any private session they paid for. I explained this before dancing for you. " Scarlett explained. "Will that accommodate your condition adequately, Heather?"

"Yes," Heather commented, relieved at getting what she wanted and eager to leave. Plus she was mildly embarrassed that she had forgotten about the recordings already being explained. Her mind was swirling with virginal implications and possibilities in need of sorting out. Even so, she hid it well and projected her commendable aura of power and dignity as she turned to open the door. Only when she was half way through the door, she turned back around and said with her typical confident swagger, "You can expect to see me Wednesday for my first lesson." With that, the former Queen Bee left Scarlett's dorm.

As the door was closed, a metamorphosis occurred. The slab of indifference that was Scarlett's face suddenly became etched with the hieroglyphics of emotion, of disposition. And the whole room grew ten degrees colder as a result. That devilish smirk stretched so sublimely, so naturally, across her face and the mad glint to her green gaze radiating under clear glasses, magnified under them, manifested a palpable aura of menace. It was similar to the face of her cousin Izzy when the wacky redhead was especially crazed, only minus any sense of whimsy or charm, leaving only the nightmarish stare of a sociopath.

Scarlett Friday at last cast aside the façade, and allowed her true face to shine through.

Though she often had difficulty feeling any sort of emotion, Scarlett just kept smiling as she went back to her room, to get more comfortable for a day of studying and planning for a future as bountiful as the present. It had gone better than she could have hoped. Within moments of seeing Heather, she had charted out the general script of their conversation, even determining the cost of each lesson before the subject was mentioned. The rumors about Heather's current sexual escapades, information from Izzy, and her own observations had provide all the necessary data to read her like a children's book. Honestly she was disappointed, given Heather's reputation Scarlett had expected more of a challenge. True, she had given more resistance and fight then most of her targets, but in the end she fell into line.

Thoughts of her latest victory amid so many that she had long since stopped keeping count animated Scarlett with a dark facsimile of cheer as she began getting ready. She undid the bun in her hair, which tumbled down her back and spread out at least a foot across from her body on either side, unleashing twin battalions of curved red-orange spikes of hair stabbing upward into the air to create the mirage of a bladed cobra's hood. It was as if Scarlett's true face was surrounded by an aura of fire, as if the restrained sadism hidden away so often finally came rushing to the surface, erupting like a volcano.

While doing so, a single word escaped her lips as menacing as a tiger's. "Sucker."

The true apex predator of the university had just secured the kill.

---

And that was the latest chapter! As always, I hope you enjoyed it!

Now, WAY back in the endnotes of chapter eleven, I said the following about Scarlett "having a role in this story that I'm quite sure that NONE of you will see coming! ;)" I can finally ask…was I right? lol. But I hope this shows that despite how long and daunting this story is, there IS a point to everything shown and presented.

Also, on the topic of Scarlett…yeah, she's not only kinda scary, but also she "out-Heathers" Heather lol. Heather is skilled at manipulating people, but she's not infallible. Ever since the original outline for this story was laid out seven years ago the idea of Heather not being the "top girl" around, of their being someone who is even more manipulative and ruthless than she is existed, but it was only with the introduction of the next generation of cast that the right person for the job was found. This turn with Scarlett is also because I've tried to read a few fics about the dangerously insane redhead and I personally think none of them used her hidden potential as a character. This portrayal of Scarlett might be slightly different than most but please tell me if you like this portrayal or not, and why or why not you do, okay?

I'm sure some of you are lamenting the fact we didn't see Scarlett's dance. Don't worry, you'll get the routine soon enough. I just didn't want to make chapter overly long, and as you may have noticed, I tend to get carried away with lemons lol.

Also, one last random observation I learned while writing this chapter, Canadian currency is apparently called "dollars," just like American currency!

[1]This is based off my own experience with a college class called "Alienation and Social Difference." I had to read The Library of Babel, and ended up liking it. Also, when picturing the library of this university, outside of my own experiences with my university's library, this short story is my main inspiration for its feel.

[2] Yes, I actually looked up the origins and history of the name Heather lol. This might seem like an odd choice for Scarlett to do but I thought it would be subtle way to throw Heather off her game from the get-go. Like Heather, Scarlett views most social interactions as a means to an end. But whereas Heather is turning away from that view, Scarlett isn't. Also, if you'll recall, Scarlett's audition video starts off with her explaining the origin of her name. It's an odd quirk that I really wanted to use!

As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and can wait until the next one.

As always, until then, please: read, review, alert, favor, and spread the word!