Title: Where is the love?

Rating: M for language and adult material

Disclaimer: Own nothing.

Since abnormal pairings seem to have become the trend . . .


Polly stood outside the first floor geyser closet. She knew who was inside, she could tell by the sounds. Four minutes, on track. The Geek noted absently, still correcting the Geeks' algorithm problems on her tablet. Lucy was promising but she really needed to get her Differential Equations down better. The sounds from beyond the closed door changed, making Polly check the time again. Eight minutes; impatient are we?

You'd think the Head Girl didn't have a private room given the number of different locations she was always finding for a snog. Polly had to check four other likely locations before discovering the sensual sounds coming from the geyser. She didn't like her friend engaging in this sort of behavior. They'd been close since they were First Years together, other students trying to steal the Geek's calculator and her friend beating them up. She knew the Head Girl better than anyone and she wouldn't dare interfere in most of her decisions, accepting that her more social ally knew the realms of human interactions better than a girl who'd spent her life sleeping with a laptop. This was one sticking point.

At ten minutes there was a muffled scream from beyond the door, followed by a few minutes of quiet gasping. Polly slipped her tablet back into her satchel and leaned against the wall, counting down silently. Four . . .three . . .two . . .one. The door opened on a familiar breathless and flushed victim.

"Zdravstvujte, Polly." Anoushka smirked, pulling down the hem of her skirt as she emerged from the closet. Her blouse was still wrinkled and undone where hands had nearly ripped it open.

"Privet." the redhead nodded greeting. She hated the formal way the Russian always spoke to everyone. As though her linguistic barriers could hold at bay anyone that got past her antisocial personality. The blonde sauntered away, humming to herself some old Slavic folk song.

"Waiting for your turn?" Kelly swaggered out of the geyser closet, carefully wiping her mouth to clear any stray smudges of lipstick. Her clothing was still fairly composed, just wrinkled and bunched where fingers had been clenching.

"Very funny. Some of us aren't completely obsessed with our libido." Polly rolled her eyes.

"Your loss." Jones shrugged, unable to conceal her feral smirk. The Geek evaluated her friend. Kelly hadn't changed much in their 6 years together. She'd simply grown more thoroughly into herself. In some ways, her and the Russian made sense. They found relief in each other, neither pressuring the other with expectations or demands. Neither of them really gave a damn. They were so alike; the same aura of mystery, punctuated with an air of fear as they both glided through the life of St. Trinian's with a spirit of malevolent ennui.

"Kel. Why - what -," Polly couldn't force the right words into the question, "Why can't you just use your bloody room? What's the point of being Head Girl if you don't use the privacy?"

"We aren't really in a 'bed' arrangement. Takes too long and has all sorts of ugly complications like . . .cuddling." Kelly gave a melodramatic shiver of revulsion. There was no doubt that her assignations with Anoushka were always of the vertical, cramped and urgently rushed variety.

"Which should tell you something about the nature of your relationship." Polly pointed out with a sternly arched eyebrow.

"Relationship? Utter bollocks, Pol. It's a way to blow off steam, nothing more. Sometimes you just need to scream. Or make someone else." Kelly grinned wickedly as she began to walk back towards the dorms.

"Which is why it's not right, Kel. You know it. You're using her. She's using you."

"Convenient, isn't it?" Kelly laughed, ignoring the serious tone in her friend's voice. It was impossible to be solemn after such an interlude of animal behavior. Human interactions, their rules, etiquettes and precepts seemed too ridiculous in the afterglow.

"Kelly! What the hell are you doing with her? It's been almost a year now! A few months was funny, sure; this is getting ridiculous!"

"What do you want me to do, Polly?" Kelly rounded sharply, feeling her glow vanish into irritation, "We're not interested in each other beyond a solid fuck behind closed doors. You want me to break it off? Lose my pressure valve? Or do you think I need to drop to one knee and make her my girlfriend? We all know this is an arrangement of necessity. I don't believe in that damned fairytale romance bullshit and neither does she. We don't ask questions, don't make promises, don't expect anything. All we want is someone to drink with and a good shag."

"That's sad, Kel." Polly shook her head, seeing the flashing anger in Jones' dark eyes that masked a numb pain somewhere deeper underneath. How many dreams had to die to leave her so cynical?

"You're a bloody romantic, Pol. Romance is dead." Kelly growled and turned sharply on her heel, stalking gracefully away. The Geek hesitated, following right now would be suicide. Except she hadn't told Kelly her reason for finding her in the first place. New girl. New girl arriving today! Polly scowled, adjusting her glasses. She'd give the Head Girl a few minutes to cool down. Maybe she wouldn't be quite so bloody-minded and impossible. Maybe Anoushka could come shag her back into a better mood.


Kelly kept her face unreadable as she strolled through the corridors, an image of authority colored with apathy. How did Polly always manage to get under her skin like this? No one else ever dared talk to her that way. Possibly because no one else knew her so well, not even Chelsea and the three of them had been thick as thieves since their first day in the hallowed halls of anarchy.

Anoushka doesn't expect anything. Doesn't ask questions. Doesn't talk! Kelly stepped into an unoccupied classroom, leaning on a desk while she forced her head to clear. She didn't have time for this! The Twins were probably neck deep in mischief already. A loud explosion drew her eyes to the window. There goes the Bursar's car. How did they get it out to the field? If someone's letting those two drive again . . .

She paced the classroom, irritated with herself for letting Polly get to her. She and Anoushka had a good thing; it was practically business! One drunken party night in the Lower Sixth they'd discovered a marvelous new way of relieving frustration and it had simply become habit. They shared three priorities in life:

1 - the blissful freedom of total anarchy

2 - pursuing every pleasure of life with impunity

3 - not giving a damn about anyone else.

It was the third that made them work perfectly together. They could drop all facades and defenses around each other because, truthfully, neither of them gave a shit. Reputation, rank, power, personality; all of it vanished and left just the need for a scream that would clear out every thought and emotion in your head. Rather like a reboot. Kelly smirked, wondering if the analogy would make Polly a hint more sympathetic. She still wouldn't get it. Bloody Geek swapped her sex drive for the hard disk variety ages ago.

If she were being completely honest (a practice she preferred to avoid) Kelly would admit there were a few people she cared about. Not her family, they were a collection of manipulative psychotics and balmy criminals (not even the quality sort). The teachers and counselors that had tried to reach her from the time she was 6 (generally with pleas for her to drop the weapon) were on her blacklist for future revenge. That wanker with the dolls especially. She had some creative ideas for reinventing 'art therapy.' What color would you say thisbruise is?

No. The people Kelly cared about were within the walls around her. Chelsea, in her, innocent yet suggestive blondness. Polly and all her infuriating knowledge. Celia, who never made sense sober but channeled Lao Tzu when she was tripping. The Twins who'd blasted their way into her heart so easily this year. Headmistress Fritton, the woman who'd taken on the misfits and rebels of the world and told them not to change. She even had a soft spot for Taylor and Andrea, whose constant fights provided ample entertainment.

Anoushka wasn't on the list. Jones didn't bother to pretend otherwise. She didn't have to. The Russian only cared passionately about two things: Vodka and sex. If Anoushka could screw a vodka bottle she'd never bother with another human being. Kelly rather liked that about her. Well, that and the trick she did with her tongue . . .

Damn Polly! Only that sodding Geek could ever make Kelly doubt her choices. She gripped the edges of a desk, sorting through the infuriating thoughts. She had to keep control of a school of anarchy. To do that she had to be in control of herself first. It was the reproach in Polly's eyes. That was what got to her. Unspoken in the flashing green was an accusation. The Geek was disappointed in her friend. Her eyes declared that she felt Kelly was compromising herself, that she was better than this sort of behavior. The worst part was that, when Jones was looking in her friend's eyes, she agreed.

Romance is a fucking dream. There is no happily ever after! Jones clenched her teeth, reciting her personal convictions. The films and songs are all bullshit. There were no soul mates; no magic moment when you locked eyes and knew you'd be together forever. There was just lust and pheromones and drunken groping leading to a lifetime of regrets, unwanted kids and alimony. She'd shoot herself before she let a fairytale package suck her into that nightmare.

The problem was that Polly still believed in love. It was like believing in Santa Claus. How could anyone spend their life at St. Trinian's and still buy the lies? Polly wasn't interested in love for herself - she'd be marrying a datacenter server once human/computer marriages were legalized - but she had such high expectations for Kelly. She was worse than Chelsea in some ways. Chels just wanted to see ornate white weddings, preferably with members of the royal family involved. Polly wanted more. She wanted Kelly to have the dream: that elusive perfect someone that would fill her thoughts, enhance her dreams, fulfill her fantasies, talk, laugh, share, cry.

No. Such. Thing! Kelly slammed her fist into the desk with every word. Damn her for trying to live through me. Damn her for believing the dream. Damn the whole world for buying the fantasy! In a single, violent twist Kelly flung the desk away from herself, sending it sailing towards the open window. It hit the edge and the momentum carried the desk straight over and out, papers fluttering behind in a silent wake. Jones smiled, feeling better after the outburst.

Nothing like a good release. She smirked, straightening her shirt and smoothing her hair.

"Oi! There you are!" Taylor came racing into the classroom, just seconds ahead of Andrea. The Emo growled and handed over £5 for losing the race.

"Something wrong?" Jones knew her face was back to her perfect, indifferent but amused expression by the way Taylor didn't maintain eye contact. The Rude Girl always was easier to intimidate. Probably because Kelly was closer to Emo than Chav. Or possibly because Taylor remembered all the times Jones had whipped her arse over the years.

"New girl's just rolled up. Pol' thought you'd want to know." Andrea answered, a small smile hinting at her excitement. Fresh meat was rare at Trinian's.

"Very nice. Tell her to have the cameras ready and rolling. Arrange for the usual welcoming committee. I'll do introductions." Kelly grinned. Just what she needed, a new victim to torture. Should do wonders for her mood.


"I'll have someone come fetch your bags." Kelly's voice carried over the CCTV to Polly's monitoring station. Most of the Sixth Form were gathered around her computer, watching the new girl's introduction. The Geek watched Annabelle's nervous greeting, cataloguing all the hints of pride, confrontation, discipline, skepticism and outright disdain. Hardly the shrinking violet they'd been expecting of a Cheltenham. The redhead even saw a flash of intrigue in Kelly's eyes. Usually her approach made a victims' palms sweat. Hardly anyone ever stood up to Jones, let alone scoffed.

"She's going to be interesting." Andrea commented, noting that Fritton's niece didn't even flinch when Kelly's expression went hard - a transition that could bring teachers to their knees.

"She's in for it." Taylor shook her head, seeing the anger in the Head Girl's expression. The new girl rolled her eyes! Plain as day, as Kelly was walking away, they could all see it!

Polly was the only one not watching Annabelle. She was watching the inset of the stair camera, studying Kelly's face. Anyone who didn't know Jones would never notice but Polly saw, as clear as a scrolling banner in her eyes, Kelly was surprised. Either the girl, her behavior or both in combination had actually impressed their nonchalant leader.

Anoushka, standing behind the rest of the group and mostly disinterested in the events on screen, saw even more than Polly. The twenty second conversation was gratuitous; the Russian saw all she needed the moment Kelly and young Fritton met eyes. Jones had that look on her face. The one that meant they were going to need a soundproofed room. Kelly might not believe in love at first sight but Anoushka did. She knew it when she saw it. Jones wanted the new girl. For a shag, obviously (with those lips even the blonde was intrigued) but there was more. Polly would've been shocked to realize she and the Russian were thinking the same thing at that moment. They both recognized it: for the first time, Kelly's eyes weren't just seeing sex.


Annabelle rose unsteadily from the floor. Her head was cloudy and her whole face hurt from running into the doors. Touching her nose brought tears to her eyes and the rest of her body just ached from the crash. She'd been set up. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind. Hazing was part of every student's life in a boarding school, especially any who came late. She'd been expecting pranks. Just not so suddenly.

She staggered a few steps, trying to shake her head clear. It was only the cold air on her skin that reminded her she was still naked. Her earlier embarrassment had vanished into the current pains. Her knee felt like she'd sprained something; she couldn't be bothered with trying to sprint. Modesty, however, demanded some consideration. Pausing beside a window, her head throbbing too hard for much thought, she fingered the fabric of the decorative drapes.

What the hell had she been so upset about? It was an ALL GIRLS school! Balling up her fist in the material she gave a hard yank, tearing it free from the curtain rod. As she wrapped the material around herself she felt a vague strand of thought twirling around the edges of her mind, something that had seemed like a reason at the time. It had seemed important. The improvised toga barely covered her torso. Fritton gave a careless shrug. It really didn't need to do much other than keep the chill off.

Her knee ached the entire way up the stairs but she was able to walk steady and proud back into the dorm. The chaotic noises quieted slightly as the girls all watched Annabelle stride in. She would've walked straight to her bed and simply said 'Fuck you all and goodnight' if she hadn't caught the dark eyes looking at her. That teasing thread of thought suddenly crystallized. The Head Girl. The Head Girl was why she'd sprinted so self-consciously through the halls.

When she'd met Kelly Jones she'd had the sudden sensation that butterflies in her stomach were trying to emerge as words - all the wrong ones. The terrifying, hypnotic dark eyes had gazed at her with such naked interest. She'd felt completely exposed. It didn't seem Jones was mentally undressing her but that she could already see her completely naked. It left Annabelle feeling shaken. She just didn't know if it was Kelly's piercing gaze that unnerved her so badly or her own internal reaction (which she hadn't quite sorted out yet).

Now Kelly was looking at her again, from her position by the Geeks' computers. She was smirking already when Annabelle walked in. Then the dark eyes swept over her. Twice. The smirk turned into a smile, her tongue mischievously running along the corner of her mouth. Annabelle's self-control completely failed to keep her eyes from following the teasing movement. Damn, damn, damn! Don't look at her! Don't watch her looking at you. Don't notice that she's . . .walking . . .towards . . .oh bugger.

"Nicely done. Floor surfing is an acquired skill. Particularly when the Twins have waxed the wood." Kelly approached her, eyes sparkling with laughter (mostly). Annabelle swallowed once, summoning up her earlier anger from where it lay beneath the boiling confusion and helpless fascination that washed over her in the presence of the Head Girl. Get a grip! She pressed her mouth into a thin line, holding back the first words that seemed to be lunging from her throat. She wasn't sure what they were, only that they wouldn't be appropriate, prudent or safe.

She opened her mouth to speak but her eyes caught something on Polly's computer. Mouth still partially open she recognized herself on the screen; a looping video. The full impact slowly set in as she watched herself dash down the halls, a picture of terrified prudery. It was a YouTube page. She'd been filmed and broadcast for the whole world to see. Not enough just to torture and embarrass her. No, not here. Not for these girls.

Annabelle straightened up, the full force of her anger overwhelming every other possible sensation. She locked eyes with Polly, who actually had the decency to look mildly guilty. Her hard gaze swept over every other set of eyes watching her, daring any of them to say a word, to laugh, to even breath. Then she looked at Kelly again, whose smile hadn't changed. This was the test. The prank was for fun, this was the actual trial of her character. What was she supposed to do? Laugh this off?

Annabelle thought of everything she could say, all the anger and violence she could unleash. She actually thought about throwing a punch, just to wipe that snotty smirk off her face. Her fist clenched reflexively. The Head Girl saw the violent desire in her face and her eyes danced with challenge.

It wouldn't do her any good. She couldn't fight them all. Even if she could, it wouldn't undo what they'd done. Throwing a fit, throwing a punch, wouldn't change anything. Annabelle felt the crushing sense of failure break her anger. With a deep, pained sigh she surrendered the fight without even starting. She closed her eyes for a moment, forcing her fist to uncurl. When she opened her eyes again she saw that Kelly was looking at her with surprise, possibly even confusion.

"You win." Fritton murmured with a last, hurt glance at the computer screen. She moved around Jones and ignored everyone else as she walked to her bed. She let the her makeshift cover pool to the ground, not even caring who saw her now. They all had. She pulled on her sleeping kit and slid into her bed. It was too early for lights out so she simply stared at the ceiling and waited for the dark.


Kelly walked out of the dorm towards the depot. Flash wanted her, as usual. She idly wondered what bollocks reason he'd have this time for trying to talk to her. Would he never learn? Don't argue with the Twins, don't trust the Chavs and for Christ's sake, stop trying to hit on the Head Girl! She was just at the front doors when she heard footsteps behind her and paused, slipping into the shadows. The teachers should all be down or drunk for the night. The girls were all either asleep or already in the depot. No one would actually be following Kelly. Not if they valued their life.

"Daddy, you have to come get me!" Annabelle whispered fiercely into the phone. Kelly uncoiled her muscles, realizing this wasn't anyone she had to punish.

As she listened to the girl begging her father for rescue she felt a faint twist of shame. The way Fritton had just folded earlier had left a hollow feeling in Jones' stomach. The young brunette had looked at her with such a depth of emotion; of such utter and complete disappointment. The Head Girl had felt an almost overwhelming urge to reach out and comfort her. Not to apologize - every St. Trinian has to earn their place - but to promise that it would get better. She'd wanted to approach the silent, wounded girl as she lay in bed and encourage her to hang on, that by simply surviving she'd already begun to prove herself. Kelly couldn't, of course, not without raising suspicions and accusations from all corners of the student body.

Instead, she'd watched the girl stare at the ceiling for several long minutes while pretending to listen to Polly. The Geek had finally snapped her fingers before her friend's eyes to get her attention.

"What?" Kelly demanded, a faint note of irritation coming through her voice.

"I just asked if we should take the video down?" Polly repeated her question. The real question went unspoken but easily understood between them. Do you want anymore people seeing her naked? Kelly hesitated, pursing her lips so her instant, instinctive answer didn't betray her personal feelings.

"It's a bit sooner than usual. But then, she is the Headmistress' niece." Jones nodded thoughtfully. The real answer visible in the line of her mouth. I definitely do not want anyone else seeing her naked. You'd also better delete it from your hard drive.

"Just as well, I'd rather not have to erase another lawsuit over dissemination of child pornography." Polly shrugged, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. I'll just be sure to forward it to your computer first, shall I?

"Good thinking." Kelly had nodded with a smile.

Too bad the video was so blurry. Poor resolution on the CCTV. Kelly made a mental note to get the Geeks on upgrading their cameras. She was pulled from her thoughts by the frustrated sound from Fritton. The girl threw her phone down and executed a violent slap shot that left Kelly's mouth hanging open. The fact that it destroyed a decorative bust made the younger girl's jaw fall in shock. Don't know your own strength, eh, Fritton? Kelly smiled to herself. She pulled further into the shadows when Miss Cleaver shouted Annabelle's name. What the hell is she doing up? Another war nightmare or just needing a refill for her flask?

Jones grinned when she heard the coach recruit Fritton to the hockey team. Spot on. Any girl with that kind of shot would do serious damage on the field. Fritton stared, mouth still hanging as the teacher vanished back upstairs. The new girl just stood there, staring at the broken statue, her strewn belongings and the empty halls. Then, without warning, a smile broke over her face. Kelly felt her own lips curl into a matching expression. Fritton had an absolutely beautiful smile. Oh no. No, you are not thinking that. Jones mentally shook herself. Fritton was the new girl, fresh meat. On top of the that she was the Headmistress' niece. Not to mention she looked straighter than a laser. Playing with fire, that was.

It doesn't mean anything. It's her mouth. She has a bloody amazing mouth! Kelly didn't even realize she had a finger running unconsciously over her own lower lip as though caressing Annabelle's. There could be no arguing it; the girl had a mesmerizing mouth. Those were the sort of lips that women took to plastic surgeons in pictures; that made careers for porn stars. It would be impossible to see that full, pouting mouth and not imagine how it tasted. Annabelle Fritton had the kind of lips that made the entire rest of your body want to be a mouth.

Annabelle gathered her things and shouldered her bag. She gave a faint shake of her head and laughed as she headed back up the stairs. Oh hell. Kelly groaned internally when the sound hit her ears. She had a fabulous laugh. Breathy and soft, like a lover had just found the tender spot on her neck. I'm screwed. Jones emerged from the shadows after Fritton disappeared back up the stairs. She looked up after the vanished girl, a smirk tugging the corner of her mouth. Well. Not yet, but I'd like to be.


Anoushka had known she and Kelly were over the instant the Head Girl met the new girl. She'd toasted the end of their mutually beneficial arrangement with two bottles of Trinski and no ill feelings whatsoever. She could easily move on to a few other options. Flash would be entertaining but he wasn't around often enough to be truly useful. It wouldn't be too hard to lure Celia away from her books. Then again, the Russian had been developing a fascination with the redheaded Geek that was always glaring at her. Perhaps making Polly scream a few times would help her understand Kelly's arguments.

Standing with her bottle of vodka at the victory party after the Cheltenham game, Anoushka spotted the leader of the geeks. She'd definitely have to be drunk first. Best to wait a while. Allowing her slightly blurred eyes to wander the writhing crowd she saw Kelly in the middle of the dancing throng, given over completely to the music. The Head Girl surrendered so easily to her inner animal at will. Dancing, fighting, shagging; Kelly never had to find her primal instincts, they were ready and waiting to surge forward. Too bad she couldn't be dancing with . . .

The Russian searched the crowd, spotting the new girl lingering by the wall. Khuinya! Stupid Pizda. She'd never get anywhere with Jones if she didn't at least make herself available. Why wasn't Kelly pulling her onto the dance floor for the teasing foreplay that was her trademark? Why hadn't Fritton even tried to venture onto the dance floor to find herself in the beat? What the hell was holding these two apart? Kelly was high on victory and free with alcohol. Why didn't she just make her move? Ah, she's moving off the dance floor. Good.

Having so peacefully accepted the end of her liaisons with Kelly, the Russian was all the more surprised when she found the Head Girl grabbing her wrist and dragging her away from the party. This was not according to plan. Anoushka glanced over her shoulder and saw Polly (for whom she'd had such wicked plans) and Annabelle (who was completely lost in this world) both staring after them.

The blonde wasn't about to argue. She and Kelly never talked about their interludes. Or during them. They just happened. She didn't even voice her confusion when Kelly led her to her private room for the first time. Lips fastening to her own, Anoushka surrendered to instinct in this foreign territory.


Kelly pulled Anoushka to the bed with a soft curse murmured against her mouth. She'd been dancing; trying to concentrate on the music, on the freedom, the party and the win but only found herself constantly looking to the edge of the celebration. Her eyes kept finding Annabelle and lingering, silently begging her to join them. To join her. The stubborn wallflower didn't even understand the need in the Head Girl's eyes. She had no clue.

Allowing hands to strip her clothing Kelly rose, tugging at buttons and cloth. Why was she even lusting after a straight girl? She must just be more horny than usual. A good shag would clear her head. It had to. Maybe Polly was right. Maybe she and Anoushka just needed to linger horizontally more. They'd never had much truly private time. She'd fix that tonight. Kelly pressed her mouth to the blonde's again, pouring herself into the searing kiss.

She didn't care that the young brunette had a mouth that screamed for kisses.

Anoushka pressed her to the mattress, hands roaming deliberately over her body, teasing moans from the familiar places of her skin.

It didn't matter that Annabelle had an aura of intelligence, pride and vulnerability that made Kelly want to know her every twitch of thought and whim of feeling.

"Annnn. . . ." Kelly groaned, her fingers fisting blonde hair as she felt herself respond to the knowing caresses. She could feel the beginnings of a sheen of sweat tingling across her skin. Muscles were clenching, intensifying each wave of sensation.

Jones was not thinking about the smile Fritton had given her when she scored the winning goal. Or the fact that amidst sixteen people hugging her in congratulations, Kelly had made special note of Annabelle's tentative, delicate touch. Her fingers were so long. . . "An . . .An . . .Annnnn . . ." Kelly gasped, feelings and sensations overriding all thought. It didn't matter that behind her closed eyes she saw someone else touching her.

"Nnnnn . . .Annabelle!" Jones cried out. She realized her error in the same moment Anoushka pulled away from her. Slavic blue eyes stared at her in shock as Kelly processed her mistake.

"Oh shit." Kelly murmured, still panting for breath. Anoushka rose completely from the bed, leaving the Head Girl feeling very empty and cold. She rose to her elbows, prepared to apologize but the Russian waved her to silence. The blonde went to Jones' desk and knowingly pulled the bottom drawer open, pulling out a bottle of liquor. It was clear, which meant either vodka, gin or schnapps. But since this was St. Trinian's Head Girl, Anoushka felt fairly confident about pulling the stopper out and taking a long swallow.

"Ti ne odnA, Kel," she handed the bottle to Jones, who gratefully accepted, "VsyO bOOdet harashO."

"I still don't speak Russian, bloody Cossack." Kelly protested, taking another long swallow from the bottle.

"It's going to be alright. You are not alone." Anoushka translated herself. It might've been the most anyone had ever heard her speak.

"Yes I am." Jones sighed. It was a painful admission. Even when they were in the throws of passion they were both still very much alone. Only when she'd met Annabelle and realized how much she wanted to know her, to be known by her, did she realize the height of the walls she'd built to isolate herself. She didn't know where to begin.

"Ti sIl`naya. I know no one so strong as you. You will win. You will get what you want." Anoushka spoke certainly, pulling the bottle away and taking a gulp. She grabbed her clothes and began to get dressed.

"I don't know what I want." Kelly shook her head, pressing her palms into her eyes. She was good with business. Great with battle. With this emotion (which she refused to admit might be love) she didn't know where to begin. The Russian paused in doing up her blouse and slid onto the bed. She sat against the headboard beside the still naked Head Girl.

"Tell me what you see when you look at Annabelle. I will tell you what it is you want." Anoushka suggested with a smile.

They spent the rest of the night in conversation. It was, perhaps, the longest talk Kelly had ever had in her life at St. Trinian's. When the sun was spilling through the curtains they'd emptied a second bottle of vodka and Kelly was fading to sleep. Anoushka rose quietly from the bed so as not to disturb Jones. She slipped from the room, leaving Kelly to sleep and dream of an elusive new temptress. The first thing the Russian did was lay a bet with the First Years. Annabelle Fritton would spend a night in the Head Girl's room before the month was out. 17-3. She wagered £200.


I would just like to point out: it was bloody hard to post this from an iPad to a net-cafe computer. Pretty sure the owners hate me for how many programs I had to download to their computers just to patch this through. You don't have to review but at the very least STOP MAKING ME ILL! travel sickness is bad enough. Seriously . . .what is with all the Andrea stuff, people? Flying makes me intolerant.