A/N

So this little chapter is a bit different. Instead of one person POV, I've tried to get a taste of everyone's thinking in. It may prove a bit confusing at first, but I'll try to make it readable! Thanks again to my faithful and long suffering readers, and welcome to the new ones. I am so grateful that you guys take the time to review and make me feel as if I'm not alone in keeping the Naomily flame alive. I'm almost at 100 reviews which makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Pretty please review this one and maybe I'll make it to my century?

Anyway, where were we? Oh, and I don't own Skins, otherwise S7 would be a tangled mess of naked Naomily limbs for two hours. So there.

Naomi

Well, life has returned to what passes for normal for me these days. I'm back in Larkwood, have been for 3 weeks now. Emily is still my Wing Governor and part time lover. I have been relocated to what we call in prisons 'The Ones' which is the ground floor for normal people. Mainly because my pelvis still gives me trouble with stairs so they've taken pity on me and I'm down with the elderly and the infirm. Nice. My job in the library has been kept open for me, so I have been catching up on my OU coursework and modules. Ellie is history, having been transferred to another prison after a bust up with a screw in A block. So have no friends to talk to, the default position for Naomi Campbell, yeah?

The murderous Filipino muff muncher is currently in Holloway, having been charged with trying to off me. Rumour has it that they may reduce the charges to GBH from attempted murder if she pleads guilty. Obviously she thought my super powers would enable me to swoop over the wing after she tipped me over the landing rail and land elegantly on the opposite side. Bitch. Part of me, despite the pain from my injuries, shares a portion of the blame for that little episode, mind. If I hadn't made such a show of claiming Ellie, I wouldn't be in this position, would I. Oh, and to complete my update, there's Emily, yeah, that Emily.

Things have been, well... strained, since I got back. We lived for a few weeks in that strange hospital bubble, and it was a shock to both of us, I think, when life returned to 'normal' for Prisoner Campbell and Wing Governor Fitch. It's not that we both don't have strong feelings for each other. We still share hot exchanges of glances and stares when we think we can get away with it, but her trips to the library in the evening have slowed to a trickle. I think she has only had one conversation with me since Monday, and its Thursday today. My own patented Campbell anxiety radar is

on full at the moment. I always fear the worse, and Emily is giving off definite disengagement signals, which are making me brick it. We had a long chat on Monday, but it was more about what Effy and Katie are doing to worm their way into White and Cooks murky world. It frightens the shit out of me. I know Effy comes across as almost superhuman and downright clairvoyant, but she is a fragile creature under that fuck off and die exterior. I know. I was her best friend when Freddie happened and I watched her façade crumble to dust under the pressure of

real life tragedy. Anyway, apparently Effy has taken Katie under her wing (oh, and I need to ask her about that next time she comes up, Effy doesn't normally do sisterly love, its usually much more lust based!) and they are teaming up to get the low down on the Bristol drugs supply situation. To be honest I don't know what they are going to do with that information, given that they get it at all without being murdered, raped or both. Like I said, frightens the shit out of me, and I know Emily is even more worried than me. Her eyes get that haunted look whenever we talk about Katie.

But that's not the whole story, and there's just something not right between us. Every time I try to talk to her about it, she clams up and flips me off with platitudes. Not ever going to work with me, and I think she knows that. Something has intruded on our exclusive little relationship, and I need to know what.

I have a dark and desperate suspicion that it has something to do with that nurse who looked after me the last week I was there. Tara, her name was. Trouble is, I have absolutely no credit in the Bank of Trust, do I? Frankly, after my performance with Ellie, I am overdrawn, about to default and possibly full blown bankrupt in that respect. How can I accuse Emily of being unfaithful after what I did?

Actually, this Tara looked like she was going to be more of a problem for me than Emily at first. One of the embarrassing things you have to endure when you're bed bound is being washed by a nurse. Now don't get me wrong, any other time in my short but eventful life I would have happily submitted to a naked bed bath from a pretty hot late twenties nurse with improbable tits and the face of a cherub. Tara was Welsh, with a lilting accent that just made her more attractive. Long blonde hair, honey blonde, not like my bottle based platinum. Like I said, big tits, which even looked good in scrubs, which is difficult. She came into my room after Emily and I had enjoyed a rather heated 'help session' and I saw her eyes widen when Emily jumped back from the bed with a face almost as red as her magnificent hair.

Tara had flashed a smile at both of us which said quite clearly "I know at least one of you has just been pleasured, I'm just working out which one"

It was me, of course. I have never been able to disguise that 'just fucked look' after sex, and today was no exception. Emily left shortly after, her embarrassment still obvious and fuck me if Tara didn't wink at her as she did. I thought Emily was going to self combust. We had a couple of seconds of awkward silence before Tara spoke

"It's OK Naomi" she smiled openly "It's allowed, you know" and flashed me the same broad wink

I grinned at her. My gaydar was beeping hard in my head, and I could see she was amused, not shocked.

"She's very attractive...your girlfriend" she said, looking for my reaction as she spoke

"Not my girlfriend" I said stupidly "It's err... complicated" I finished even more lamely.

"Nice of her to lend a helping hand then" she smiled, and we both giggled at the insane turn this conversation had taken. For fuck sake, she had interrupted Emily fingering me, and nothing I said would fool her now.

"Yeah, she's very handy" I said, spluttering at my razor wit, not.

"Nimble?" she said, still chuckling

"You have no idea" I said "Virtuoso, that one"

Again we shared an 'all girls together here' laugh

"Right" she said, suddenly serious "You, Missy, need a bath, and the Consultant has said you can't get out of bed until Tuesday at the earliest, so I am your hand maid for the day"

"Fucking hell" I said, blushing myself (and yes I do blush!) "Two pretty women wanting to get me naked in one day. Did I walk through the back of the wardrobe in my sleep?"

"It may not be Narnia, Miss Campbell, but someone has to do it" she smiled again, raising a quizzical eyebrow at my attempt to be clever.

Rather than saying any more, she stripped off the single sheet covering me in one practised move and started to unbutton the front of my gown. Unlike the old fashioned type of hospital bed wear, this one at least had the grace to avoid embarrassing gapes at the back. Not that that helped in the current situation, of course. With professional skill, Tara had me naked in seconds. I felt as though I should have covered myself with my hands, but mentally kicked myself as I realised that she would have seen this a thousand times before. Another naked girl wasn't going to shock her, was it?

She pulled a small trolley to the side of the bed and clicked the catch on the door before walking back and casting a glance up and down my body.

"OK, Naomi" she said. I am going to wash your face and body now. I'll be using a sanitised cloth, but you can ask me to wear gloves too, if you wish"

I shook my head" Fucks sake, I'm not radioactive", I thought,

She dipped the cloth in the wash bowl on the trolley, applied some soap to the material and started. It was surprisingly OK, actually. She kept up a stream of small talk as she worked, cleaning my face thoroughly before propping me up on the bed and washing my back. It started to feel great , being properly clean. After she finished my back, she laid me back and started on my front. The process continued with just the minor embarrassment of having an attractive blonde rubbing soap over my tits, but I endured it manfully. (OK, it was actually quite stimulating, but she was just being thorough, right?)

Obviously when she had finished my legs, there was only one place left to go, and I gritted my teeth, waiting for her to finish the job. I remember thinking she was being particularly careful to make sure I was spotless down there, but maybe I was just being paranoid. Finally, she looked up at my eyes, noticing I am sure my slightly flushed appearance.

"All done Naomi" she said breezily "I've had worse jobs today" And smiled cheekily

"Actually" I said primly "I could get used to being manhandled by two pretty women in one day"

"Err, I think your...friend was more interested in getting you dirty, not clean" She laughed

This time I flashed her a wink, and it was her turn to blush slightly.

So we chatted some more, on safer ground, after she slid a clean gown over my freshly scrubbed body and settled me back onto my pillows, making sure my plaster wasn't uncomfortable, and that my bruised ribs didn't need some more painkillers.

She passed me some magazines and I groaned theatrically when I saw the covers. Katie Price and Peter Andre... Our Hell, or some such self serving bullshit. How the fuck those two manage to fill hours of airtime and magazine footage with their entirely predicable and, to me at least, pointless lives is a mystery. Their entire life histories could be encapsulated on the back of a small postage stamp. The words ageing slapper and feeble minded prat would do, really.

"Not a fan of celebs?" Tara arched a manicured eyebrow at my obvious disgust.

"I would rather have hat pins surgically inserted into my clit, than read about them" I said caustically

"I think you can only get that if you go private" she said dead pan. Again we shared a full on laugh together.

So all in all, I thought this harmless banter was OK. I mean. I was never going to let things go any further anyway, and I had to something to while away the boring hours. Celeb magazines apart, that is.

Emily came again that evening, and she and Tara shared a few words before she left. Then the next day I noticed that Emily was outside for a few minutes chatting to someone before she came in to see me. Inevitably it was Tara. Then the weekend came and for the first time since I was in the hospital, Emily made an excuse and didn't come. She was in again on Monday, but fucking Tara was there again, checking my temperature, fiddling with the bedclothes and generally making sure I didn't get up to anything with Emily. It was starting to piss me off. I didn't need continuous hand massages from Emily, but some kisses, apart from hello and goodbye would have been nice.

Then on my last day there, when I was in a pretty dark place anyway, the prospect of Larkwood, prison food and another 1000 days of captivity looming I saw something I knew had 'wrong' stamped all over it. I was mobile by then, at least the hospital had allowed me to use a wheelchair to whizz about the corridors, prior to actually walking at last. Emily had just left, after promising that she had taken care of things back at the prison. I was going to be on light duties, relocated onto the ones and with a couple of outpatient appointments already made to check my progress. She had also retrieved the mobile phone which had miraculously still been inside the bed frame tube in my room. She said she would hang on to it until I was given a permanent location, just in case I got a cell spin by sheer bad luck. As I had got used to face to face contact with Emily, I wasn't as arsey about that as I would have if I had still been up on the 2nd landing. After all, we would both be on the same level, which should give us more opportunities for meetings, yeah?

But I was just looking out of my ward window, watching for Emily to reach the car park when I saw Tara hanging about outside, next to what I knew was Emily's white Golf Gti.

My eyes narrowed as I saw Emily walk to her car and engage in some fairly animated conversation with my nurse. Tara must have said something funny, because I saw Emily's head tip back and her mouth open as she laughed out loud at whatever it was. The green eyed monster in me roared its protest and a bolt of pure hatred surged through my brain. She was fucking flirting. Even from up here on the fourth floor, I could see that they both were fucking flirting. Bitch.

I couldn't stop watching, of course. You never can, can you? I remember when I got briefly attached to a girl at college for a while. Nancy, I remember. Love and flowers for both of us, for a month or so anyway. We had a real connection, or so I thought at the time. One night, when we were at a club, I lost sight of her for 15 minutes or so. Searched both dance floors, three bars and two sets of toilets before I found her. Well, I say found her. I heard her. Locked in a cubicle with some random. The same shit she had moaned in my ear was being wasted on some pissed straight girl with knickers round her ankles in some skanky toilet. Couldn't walk away. Stood there listening to the whole performance. All the Oh God's and Fuck me's... every bit of it. Like self mutilation really. I couldn't tear myself away, physically impossible.

When she finally emerged, face flushed and grinning at her conquest, I just stood there, eyes brimming with unshed tears. I recall her face changing. Triumph at making a straight girl come replaced with horror at being caught. I never even waited for the excuses. Just turned and walked away, the memories of what I heard echoing in my brain all night.

Just like I felt now, watching my lover flirt with some fucking cunt who had` pretended to be my friend. Watched as Emily passed her mobile to Tara, and watched Tara key in her number. If I hadn't been so consumed with guilt at how I had treated Emily, I might have opened the window and screamed at them. But I didn't. Didn't have the right, you see. Made all the excuses for Emily I could. Just a friend, just going to meet up for coffee, just casual acquaintances, nothing to see here. You know the drill...

And now here we are, back in Larkwood. Both tap dancing round the issues we will have to deal with sooner or later. I can't find it in myself to hate her, can't make myself just come out and ask her. But there is something in her eyes. Something that tells me I'm not being paranoid. She may not have actually fucked her...yet, but she's cheating mentally already. I fucking know it..

Emily

I am such a fucking coward, I hate myself sometimes. Particularly now. Naomi is back on the wing. Things can start to get back to 'normal' now, whatever the fuck that means in this twisted world I'm living in. She didn't die. She didn't cheat (well, she would have done, but I seem to have been able to forgive her for that, even if I can't actually picture that moment without mentally screaming) Katie and Effy seem to have constructed a real friendship out of this nightmare. And that's a sentence I never ever thought I would be able to say out loud. Katie Fitch being friends with another girl. Particularly a hot, sensual girl like Effy. Katie has spent her entire life competing. Competing with me for our parents attention, competing with every girl in her year to see who can pull the hottest boys. Competing with every skank to see how many stiff cocks she can inhale in one day. Girls like Effy Stonem would never have even appeared on Katie's radar as anything other than lethal threats up to now. And yet they seem attached at the hip. Although Katie is supposedly staying at mine while her latest romantic disaster empties his bank account into hers as penance for disappointing my sister, she is staying at Eff's most nights. If Katie wasn't the straightest female I know I would say for certain that Effy is shagging her senseless. But that's just stupid. Katie and muff are not compatible.

But the uncertainty I feel isn't about my sisters sex life, its about my own. Well, lack of one really. Apart from performing my girl-friendly duties for the incapable Naomi in hospital, I haven't had much at all really. Not even the self pleasuring type. Haven't been in the mood for it after visiting Naomi and worrying about Katie. I'm not exactly Effy fuck me Stonem, but even when I was wasting my life with Danny, I usually managed to have a self help session a couple of times a week. My trusty rabbit had always lived on a healthy diet of batteries, but its sits in my bedside cabinet these days, unloved and unused. Poor Sophie.. (Don't laugh, my vibe has a lovely name!) She's given me a lot of memorable moments, I can tell you. Wasn't it Woody Allen that said masturbation is sex with someone you love, so what's not to like? Then again, he shagged his under-age stepdaughter, so maybe that's not the best advice to be taking.

But that's not even the half of it. Naomi knows I have secrets, and sooner or later I will have to tell her what's happening outside these walls. Tara Jones, that's what. Not that we've done anything. Not even kissed. But she wants to, she's made that very clear.

It started innocently enough. Well as innocently as can be conceived when you've just been caught getting your girlfriend off under the sheets on a hospital bed. Tara was really cool about it, next time I visited. She was obviously gay. I mean, my gaydar is no way as advanced as Naomi's obviously is, but I can now tell when I'm being checked out. She was very subtle at first, managing to be around every time I visited. Brief chats, some very light flirting. I was flattered. It's not as if I have much experience of being wooed. Naomi and I went from eye fucking to actual fucking in about ten minutes...Being in the situation we are of course, it's not your usual romance, is it? Stolen moments, shared looks, the odd frantic shag against the library door. Not exactly Mills & Boone... I DO love her, that hasn't changed. But everything is so fucking difficult, especially now she is more than just another inmate. Being thrown over the railings to almost certain death has brought her some notoriety. Girls in here are hungry for excitement. Whether that comes from another girls fingers or the vicarious type from watching a drama unfold, it doesn't matter. Its all grist to the prison rumour mill. So us being star turns in the am dram of the last month has just made the attention more pronounced. We` have to be doubly careful.

And that's where Tara has come in. Our chats in the corridor after hospital visits turned into coffee's in the staff canteen on the ground floor. I knew she found me attractive. It wasn't all harmless flirting. Some serious eye fucking came my way with it. Let's face it, if I had met Tara just after I had decided to dump Danny, things might have turned out very differently. She is older than me at 28, taller and obviously more experienced. Her hair is a beautiful honey blonde and she has a really sweet face. All white teeth and dimples . And don't get me on to those tits... After seeing her in the blue scrubs she wore on duty, I wasn't prepared for the time I bumped into her (accidentally of course) outside Casualty on my way home. She was wearing really tight blue skinnys with Uggs on her feet, a short black leather jacket and a white sleeveless tee underneath. I blushed furiously when she saw me checking out her tits. They were pretty impressive. 36 C I reckon, and that's a whole new ball game for me. I don't think many people have been that impressed with my tits, male or female. Emily's fried eggs as Katie used to put it...

Anyway, I was busted, so what? Then, on Naomi's last day in the Royal, she waited for me in the car park, next to my car. A bit stalkerish, I suppose, but I was feeling better now things were getting back to normal,and I shared a joke with her happily enough. She was very funny, always lots of anecdotes about other nurses and doctors. Jesus, the amount of on duty shagging that goes on in there, I'm surprised many patients survive the visit.

So when she asked me for my number, I found myself taking my phone out of my pocket. She took it from my hand and keyed in her name and number, before giving it back. Her fingers lingered on mine for just a second or so too long, but I wasn't complaining, if I am honest. Treacherous bitch that I am.

We haven't actually done anything, like I said, but it's heading that way. I'm not that naive.

Part of me says fuck it, Naomi cheated, why should I care. Part of me says fuck that, why be a bitch too, haven't you got any self control? I can't answer that at the moment. I wish I knew which Emily is going to emerge from all this.

Katie

"Hurry UP bitch" I hear from the lounge and fucking completely ignore it. I might have changed a lot over the past three weeks, but Katie Fucking Fitch doesn't hurry in the bathroom, its the 11th commandment.

Effy of course was ready in about 2.3 seconds as usual. That girl must have 20 identical outfits, I don't understand why. Black skinnys, black boots, not studded this time, but fucking expensive. I can tell from the leather. A totally inappropriately sheer see through cotton shirt with a black bra underneath and some clunky beads. Fuck me, does she not know this is a science, dressing to impress? I have been in here an hour. First the shower, body lotion and some not so subtle musky perfume I can't pronounce dabbed in a few strategic places. Some of them where only someone very determined will ever smell it. I smirk at that thought. Then the hair, up tonight, I think. My new black Basque, which shows off my tits a treat. Holds me in like a Christmas trussed turkey. I'll be glad to get myself out of it later, but a girl has to suffer to look like this, you know? I will be wearing a ridiculously expensive and very short blue silk dress over it, with enough buttons undone at the front to leave no doubt about what I have underneath. Black hold up silk stockings which cost me another kings ransom, and a pair of shiny patent leather dress shoes will do nicely, I think.

At least I would think, if Effy would stop reminding me we are late. Who fucking cares? When we make an entrance at this so called 'exclusive' party on Johnny's moored motor yacht in the marina, I want the only sound to be the that of tinkling glass as the silicone skanks drop their champagne glasses at the sight of Effy and me walking in.

Effy hammers on the door and I reluctantly open it to let her in. She's not pleased.

"Jesus Katie" she fumes "Girl wants a piss here?" walking past me and sliding her jeans down before sitting on the toilet

"Fucks sake Effy" I moan "I do not want to see your muff in the mirror while I'm putting my lipstick on"

"Didn't seem to bother you last night" she smirks, running her eyes up and down my body, taking in the tightness of the Basque no doubt. "Oh Effy" she squeaks in a totally unfunny impression of me "Deeper, please"

I blush stupidly and flip her a finger as she wipes herself and joins me at the sink, washing her hands,

"Must have been some other woman you're thinking of" I smirk back "I'm the straight twin, remember?"

She slides behind me and looks over my shoulder, resting her chin on me as I carry on applying some lip gloss. Her hands travel up my sides, finally cupping my tits, gently squeezing. I shudder, remembering how she played my body deep into the night. She's a tiger, this one.

"Yeah, right" she smiles "the straight twin who is suddenly addicted to pussy"

"Fuck off" I say, without malice "You've corrupted me Effy Stonem. It's nothing to be proud of"

"Oh, I don't know" she laughs "I'm VERY proud of what a good muff muncher you are. It's all my own work!"

I blush. Something I hate at the best of times, but being reminded by Effy that I'm now a fully paid up member of the Cunnilingus Club is still a bit new to me.

Her other hand slides over my stomach, slipping inside my black knickers before I can stop her. I drop my lip gloss in the sink and swear at her for 10 seconds, while she laughs at my expression in the mirror. She keeps her hand where it is and I feel her inquiring fingers explore me. I tremble as the skilful circles she traces on me and in me work their magic.

"Thought we were late?" I say, in a voice suddenly low with need

"Fashionably late" she breathes, using that fucking lethal tongue in a completely inappropriate manner in my ear. Jesus Christ on a bike, she knows that's something I cannot resist. She turns me towards her and I feel her mouth close over mine, tongue now searching for my own.

She breaks away before reaching for my hand and pulling me towards the bedroom. I sigh, am I totally unable to resist her. I know the answer before the thought even finishes. Course I am...

"Another 15 minutes won't hurt, I suppose" I say uncertainly

"Maybe half an hour?" she smiles, unzipping the Basque at the back and cupping my naked tits in her warm hands.

I drop to the bed beside her and begin to moan as she makes love to me for the fourth time today. This girl is going to kill me with love...eventually.

An hour and a half later (OK, I had to return the favour, OK?) we walked up the wide gangway to the boat. Two gorillas in monkey suits scanned our invites and let us past, two pairs of eyes molesting our bodies as we walked by. The party was in full swing. Lots of tinsel, flashing lights and scantily clad bimbos spun round, drinking pink champagne from long stemmed glasses. Another night in the company of Cook and White, purveyors of quality drugs to the gentry.

The tab of industrial strength Ecstasy and the bottle of Krug Effy and I had` drunk after fucking each other senseless earlier were doing their job. My feet felt like I was floating. Despite Eff's best efforts to kill me with sex, another orgasm was definitely on the cards if she played her cards right tonight. I grabbed a pair of glasses from a passing waiter and we added to the champagne inside us. Cook spotted us and bellowed for us to join him and JW at the top table. Another night in paradise, I thought. Little did I know how wrong I could be,

A/N

On that little teaser, I will leave our heroines for now. Naomi back in the slammer, Emily tempted by a Welsh undresser, Katie loved up but vulnerable even with Effy to guide her. What could possible go wrong?

Sorry if the idea of Emily cheating grates. I have a plan! Oh, and the Welsh nurse comes from my own totally inappropriate girl crush on Tara Bethan, a Welsh actress who appears in Pobl y Cwm (Welsh for People of the Valley) playing a part time nurse/pub landlady. Pobl is a soap, similar to EastEnders for my foreign readers. Google her name and tell me you wouldn't...LIAR!

Tara Bethan is gorgeous, buxom and very sexy. If she ever decided she was gay, I would be under her in a heartbeat! Just saying. Ha ha Slut that I am. Of course, that would all go out of the window if either Lily or Kat beckoned first. Oh well, we all know that's never gonna happen. Drat!

Review, you lovely people. I can promise much more angst, broken hearts, bodies and promises and lots of smut, promise!

Open to suggestions here!

Nancy x