Archiving: http://www.realmoftheshadow.com/harper.htm. Anyone else, just ask.
Disclaimers: I don't own nothing. Not even a copy of 'How to Avoid Using Double Negatives', so don't sue. I mean no infringement.
A/N: I gave into this strange impulse for fluff that I had, and this wrote itself as a result. Sorry about that. Its un-beta'd, so ignore any mistakes and we can all pretend like I never actually make any. If you'd like to provide feedback, I'd love to receive it. I'll be at Xfjnky2@yahoo.com. Thanks.
Sam grinned, and had anyone see it, they would have had a problem describing the gesture. Evil, insidious, mischievous… all seemed to apply. It was actually anticipation, because Sam had finally escaped the clutches of the myriad number of things that had conspired to keep her away from her favorite activity. Homework was done, dinner was eaten, and now she was going to be able to lock herself in her room for the night without raising any suspicions.
The computer booted up while she changed into more comfortable attire, ridding herself of everything save a pair of loose, comfortable baggy old boxers that she'd had for years and a tee shirt that probably should have seen the bottom of a garbage can ages ago. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, keeping the irksome mass from falling in her face, and there was a glass of juice sitting on her desk, just in case she got thirsty. So, with all battle supplies at the ready, she settled down into her computer chair and waited.
It took a little while to pull up the AOL program. It kept insisting on updating itself all the time, and she watched impatiently until that little blue rectangle gave over to the sign-on screen.
The cursor moved down the list of her names, finally clicking on RY1010. Nimble fingers quickly typed in her password… all of her passwords were the same, just to keep things straight. Cronkite, because she figured that no one would ever be able to figure out what it was, thus safeguarding all of her secrets behind the lock and key of eight little letters.
The hiss and whine of the modem was muffled, and she watched as the connection sprang up. 45333 bps… not too bad. Sometimes the phone lines got tricky and only let her have 20000. She wasn't really sure what the difference was, but it always made her feel better to see something large up there.
"Welcome. You've got mail." Someone had told her once that you could personalize those things, could replace what had to be one of the most annoying automated voices ever created with anything that you wanted, but she hadn't taken the time to do it yet. It seemed like too much trouble, though she imagined that it was probably far easier than the complicated maze of unintelligible computer commands that she was imagining.
The sound of Brooke's door closing made her jump, and the brunette looked around the room nervously. She wasn't sure why she was nervous, especially since she wasn't doing anything to be nervous about. Well, she wasn't doing anything yet, which might be what was causing the ever so strange nervousness. Somehow it just felt odd to be conducting her online business with the blonde not twenty feet away, and there was always that lurking fear in the back of her mind that she'd get caught one of these days.
At the very least she didn't have to worry anymore about her soon to be step-sister charging into her room demanding that she get off-line so that the other girl could use the phone. Several screaming battles had convinced the parents that it would just be simpler to have a phone line for the house and one each for the girls, which meant that now she could chat the night away without worrying about tying up the phone.
A quick move of the cursor and she was clicking on People, scrolling down to… yes, that was it. Find A Chat. The ones created by AOL members were always the best, or so she'd learned after sitting through a scintillating ten minutes of argument over which quilting pattern was most durable, and with a quick double click the computer set itself to the task of pulling those up. There, the screen was updated. Where to go tonight?
'Romance', which she preferred over the initial category which was pretty much all male/male, but which wasn't quite as good as 'Special Interests'. Hmm… what rooms were there tonight? Ah, there was the perfect one. 'SoCal f4f', and surprisingly she managed to get into the room on the first try. Sometimes it took her minutes to find an opening, usually only to find out that the room sucked and that she shouldn't have wasted her time in the first place.
The conversation was moving quickly, random bits thrown out by the various users with enough speed to make page scroll almost continuously. A quick look at the room's occupants didn't reveal any names that intrigued her enough to do a profile check, so she sat back and waited, trying to get a feel for what was going on.
A bling announced an incoming IM, and Sam glanced up at the box to see who had singled her out.
God, she hated those. Why should she bother giving out any information without a proper introduction or at the very least a simple 'hi'. So, one click on the little X in the upper right hand corner and her unwanted new friend was gone.
Shit. She'd missed some new entries to the room while she was summarily dismissing her initial potential chat partner. Sam liked to keep on top of who was entering and who was leaving, just to make sure that there wasn't anyone of interest that she'd accidentally overlooked.
CheerCapt02: Hey… liked your profile
Like this one, for example. There hadn't been any CheerCapt02 when she'd taken a gander at the room occupants, because she definitely would have been a profile check candidate. Not that she would have found much, she realized, looking over the girl's personal information before she responded. Oh well, with a name like that, she'd make some compromises.
RY1010: Hey yourself.
There, keep it short and simple. She IM'd, which means that she can do all the work.
CheerCapt02: Anything interesting happening tonight?
Sam pondered that for a moment. It was a generic conversation furtherer, which meant that she didn't have to put much thought into it, but she decided to go with more than just a simple 'No'.
RY1010: Not really. I just signed on, so I haven't had enough time to get in any mischief… yet.
With a smile the brunette smacked the tab key/space bar combo that would send her reply into the realms of the cyberworld. There, that had conveyed a proper amount of interest and been flirty to boot.
CheerCapt02: Yet??? Does that mean you're looking?
That earned a big grin. Apparently CheerCapt02 was amenable to a little bit of playtime.
RY1010: Always looking, but why don't you tell me a little bit more about yourself first?
There was a long pause, and for a moment Sam was afraid that she'd scared her chat partner away. Just as she was about to check and make sure that the other girl was still online, her response appeared.
CheerCapt02: Oh, well… that's a pretty vague question. I mean, what do you want to know? I'm a Senior in high school, almost 18, and I'm a head cheerleader. Plus, I'm from SoCal, obviously. What about you?
For a minute Sam was sure that she'd died and gone to heaven. If this girl was a blonde, then she just might get down on her knees and worship the gods of cybersex, possible interruptions from her parents or Brooke be damned.
RY1010: I'm a Senior too, though I won't be 18 for a while. Like you, I'm from Southern California. I'm not much for organized sports or cheerleading, but I do like to write. Its my hobby, actually.
It was easy to give out personal information behind the comforting anonymity of a screen name. Especially if you attached a fake real name to it as well.
CheerCapt02: Oooh… you tell me that you're a brunette too and I might just be in cyber love.
One slender chestnut brow rose in pleasure at that, and Sam barely resisted the urge to crack her knuckles in satisfaction before typing her reply.
RY1010: Well, isn't today just your lucky day then. Brunette, brown eyes and victim to what some might call an oral fixation.
Take that, Sam thought with a smirk, sending the blatant innuendo on its way to her apparent fun-time friend for the night.
CheerCapt02: Are you sure I don't know you? ::teasing:: Wow, you sound a lot like this girl I know in real life…
That always elicited a chuckle from Sam. Real life, real time… all these people inhabiting a world of fake constructions and ephemeral, fleeting, self-serving connections, fully acknowledging that it wasn't anything more than a made up land of virtual escape. Oh well, she played the game too, so she couldn't criticize.
RY1010: Well, obviously she must be undeniably gorgeous then. Spill… is she hot? ::wiggling eyebrows suggestively::
Even though she was a slave to them herself, the methods adopted by Internet addicts in an attempt to humanize their interactions always amused her. How awkward would it be if, in 'real life', everyone went around describing the actions that they wanted to be using to support whatever it was that they were thinking. Say, for example, if a girl met another cute girl, or guy or whatever, and wanted to play the shy endearing type, and just said 'blushing' instead of actually having to somehow trigger the autonomic response that caused blood to rush to her face, coloring her cheeks. Why, the girl or guy or whatever would probably either run screaming or have found a kindred spirit in the world of weirddom, but no matter which option won out, it would be unnerving in the extreme.
CheerCapt02: Oh, she's very, very hot. In fact… ::whispering:: I think I may be a little bit in love with her. Or, at least, majorly crushing.
"Huh," Sam muttered to herself.
RY1010: Love… Sounds serious. Have you told this mystery woman about your affections?
Settling back in her chair, now more interested in the discussion than in the potential for online sexual release, Sam awaited the answer anxiously.
CheerCapt02: No way. She'd probably freak if she knew how I felt. Trust me, she doesn't like me… not at all. If I even mentioned anything about it, she'd probably laugh in my face and then run and tell the whole school. No thank you. I think I'll just keep this little secret to myself.
Contemplating this for a minute, weighing potential responses to this with half an eye on her own unrequited infatuation, Sam offered advice to a stranger that she herself wouldn't ever even follow.
RY1010: You never know until you try. What could it hurt? Maybe she likes you back. Maybe she's waiting on you to make the first move. Could be that opportunity is passing you by while you sit in silence.
"Because you certainly practice what you preach, you big yellow bellied chicken," the journalist berated herself, even as she sent the words out into cyberland.
CheerCapt02: You think so? I don't know… The risk just seems too big, you know. Why risk all that potential rejection and embarrassment when nothing'll ever probably come from it anyway.
Not three seconds after this appeared on her screen, another message popped up.
CheerCapt02: You think I'm a coward now, don't you? Probably am, but I still don't think I can do it.
Sam considered this for a moment, then with a forlorn sigh, decided to fess up.
RY1010: No, I don't think you're a coward. In fact, I can't really say anything to you at all. I've been secretly in love with someone for months now and haven't gotten up the guts to tell her. It's a lot easier to tell someone to take a risk than it is to do it yourself, so just don't pay any attention to what I said earlier. It wasn't any of my business.
"God, I'm even a loser online. Even the biggest nerds in the world can manage to make themselves cool online. Way to go, McPherson." Sam blew out a breath of frustration. Who was she trying to fool with her elaborately constructed fake life?
CheerCapt02: LOL. I see… its all right for me to go out and risk excrutiating public humiliation, but you think you'll pass. No biggie though. I understand. Walking in your shoes and all that.
Glancing at the clock, shocked to see how much time had passed while she'd been chatting with her as yet unnamed partner, Sam worked to stifle a yawn.
RY1010: Think of it this way… we'll always have each other, although you're going to have to wait to have me for another night. It's a school night and I'm about to crash. Mind if I buddy list you?
CheerCapt02: Already got you on mine. Talk to you later, RY. G'night.
RY1010: Night Cheer. Chat at you later…
Dropping her books beside her bed with a thud, Sam reached over and jostled the mouse to her computer, hearing the screen flicker to life with a thunk moments later. Her screensaver appeared in a splash of bright pink and multiple renditions of the PowerPuff Girls as she absentmindedly reached over to double click on the AOL icon.
She'd shrugged out of her school shirt by the time the sign-on screen pulled up, and after rattling off her password, she let the modem connect while she rummaged through a drawer for a tee-shirt. Jeans were replaced with loose cotton boxers, and after popping a few vertabra in her neck, she settled down into her desk chair just in time to see the AOL home page appear.
A quick glance at her buddy list revealed a few chat friends floating about, none of them the one that she'd been thinking about all day. However, at the very end of her list of e-mail messages was one from someone she hadn't expected to hear from, at least not this soon.
Eagerly clicking on the message, she waited impatiently as the text window pulled up, scanning anxiously through the short missive.
I enjoyed chatting with you last night and hope to see you online again soon. Feel free to drop me a note if you see me before I see you. Hope you had a good day.
Sam grinned, then clicked on the reply button. A blank window appeared to mock her, but after a few seconds she started typing, her fingers flying over the keyboard.
Good to hear from you. I enjoyed our chat as well and look forward to resuming it as soon as possible. What are you doing tonight? I'll probably be online sometime after 9:00 if you can meet me in the ether of cyberland. What do you say… is it a date?
One click of the send button later, Sam was left staring at the screen, grinning like an idiot. She wasn't sure why she was so hyped up about the tenuous connection that she'd made with yet another cyber shadow like herself. Maybe it was the thrill of the unknown, the allure of uncertainly and potential that came with the clash of any two strangers. Or, maybe she needed to get a life.
She didn't think that she was ever going to manage to get away from her parents and Sam. Why tonight, of all nights, did they suddenly take an interest in her school time activities. There must have been some new PSA released lately on the value of talking to your kids, because Mike and Jane had been wearing their Sunday best concerned parent clothes, and Brooke counted herself lucky at having made it out of the dining room without committing mass homicide. Well, actually, would three homicides qualify her for mass? Only if she were Catholic, though beyond that she wasn't quite sure. And even then, she was fairly certain that it was confession that would do her the most good.
By the time she'd brushed her teeth and changed into her pajamas, the sound of keys clacking from the room next door was already seeping through to her room. Honestly, Sam typed as if she had to beat the keyboard into submission.
For a moment Brooke paused to wonder what the other girl did in there all night, tap tap tapping away, but as the sound of her modem dialing up crackled through the room, she pushed the thought aside in favor of much more interesting ones.
Like RY1010 for example.
There was something about the nameless, faceless apparition on the other side of that rather bland screen name that intrigued her, more so that any of the other countless spectres that she'd bumped into online. She felt comfortable with the other girl, as if she could pour out all of her secrets and expect them to be well cared for, and that made her smile. Well, actually it made her grin like a hyena, but she didn't want to think of herself in the same terms as an animal that took great delight in rolling around in its own vomit. A Bio Glass report on the animal of her choice had taught her that much, instantly moving the Spotted Hyena down to the very bottom of her list of wild animals to keep as pets when she was rich and famous.
There. Connecting with AOL. She had version 6.0, which she'd decided to keep despite the apparently never-ending advertisement that her ISP threw her way. Why should she upgrade to 7.0? What was she going to get? A silly little picture of the Tasmanian Devil or a peace sign that would take up the lower left hand corner of any IM she sent? For that she was supposed to spend two hours downloading? She didn't want a stupid picture. What she wanted was a version of AOL that actually lasted more than four months.
Before she even had a chance to check her buddy list, an IM appeared on her screen, and not bothering to venture into a room for sideline entertainment, she clicked it open and leaned back.
RY1010: Hey there…
"Ooh, a fast-mover, I see," the blonde said, grinning with delight.
CheerCapt02: Hey yourself. I got your e-mail, and here I am, waiting to be impressed.
"Come to Mama, baby," she crooned, sending the reply off into the virtual night.
RY1010: Waiting to be impressed, huh? ::thinking furiously:: What if I fail miserably? What happens to me then?
CheerCapt02: Oh, well, I'll make fun of you until your self-esteem plummets and you have to find one of those online groups for depressed teenagers. I'll take over as the most desirable girl in a text box and you'll probably be left with nothing more to do than surf Internet porn sites and weep over what you've lost.
Brooke couldn't help but smile over the mental picture she'd created, imagining her as yet faceless chat partner, who nonetheless seemed to pop up on the screen in her mind as looking suspiciously like Sam, huddled over her keyboard, crying piteously the still photo of a naked girl leaning back against a palm tree looked down at her. Speaking of…
RY1010: You seem awfully sure of yourself, Princess. I'm afraid that I'm going to know more about you before I have my mental breakdown and vacate my position. Hair color and eye color will do nicely for now, but I reserve the right to dig out any and all personal information that I feel pertains to my decision to vacate at any time. ::teasing grin::
For a moment, Brooke thought she was going to hyperventilate in panic. Princess? Was this someone she knew then, taunting her with the use of her nickname while hiding behind the anonymity of two letters and four numbers, mocking her as they typed? Laughing at her naivete, copying and pasting this whole little exchange into an e-mail designed to be sent to all of her friends via some massive listserv that she wasn't aware of??? Somehow she managed to type a reply, even through the whine of heavy breathing.
CheerCapt02: Uh, blonde and hazel. By the way, I don't think that I ever caught your name, RY.
RY1010: Well, isn't this my lucky day. Blonde you say? I might just let you take over my crown, but only if you promise to let me serve under your, uh, reign. And the name's Ryan, by the way.
An enormous sigh of relief shot past the blonde's lips, only to be replaced by a guarded anger.
CheerCapt02: Ryan? That's a boy's name. You're not one of those pervs that goes around pretending to be a girl so that they can vicariously enjoy online lesbian sex, are you?
There, Brooke though, hitting the send button viciously. Never let it be said that I didn't study for the verbal section of the SAT's.
RY1010: Girls can have boy's names sometimes. No need to get your panties in a twist. That is, if you're even wearing any. ::lascivious sneer::
The blonde heaved another sigh of relief, this one not quite as large as the last.
CheerCapt02: True. I guess that I should know that better than anyone. Sorry about the bout of paranoia I threw at you then.
Now, where was I before that little burst of panic? Oh yeah, the porn…
RY1010: Is that so? Your moniker androgynous as well?
"Jesus, I type one big word and she pulls out a dictionary to out do me," Brooke muttered.
CheerCapt02: No, actually my name is Rain.
Brooke, rain… they were both water, just in different forms. Besides, she didn't want to accidentally run into someone on here one day who actually knew her and give them enough clues to figure it out. Now where had she been… oh yes, typing in the URL to her favorite free porn site. Net Nanny be damned, she had 'Mature' access.
RY1010: You've got to be kidding me. Rain? Were you born on a hippie commune?
Brooke couldn't help growing a bit affronted over the insult to her fake name.
CheerCapt02: Were your parents secretly hoping for a boy and so disappointed when they didn't get one that they decided to pretend that you were one anyway, Ryan?
"Take that," she muttered, nodding her head in conviction. "Rain is a perfectly fine name, especially for romance novel heroines and online pseudonyms."
RY1010: Yeow… pry the claws out of my back, Princess. No harm meant. I was just teasing with you.
Properly placated by the response, the blonde calmed down just a little. Oh, and the dark-haired beauty draping her gloriously nude body over the side of an incredibly clear swimming pool didn't hurt matters either. Yep, she was definitely going into 'Favorites'. God forbid that she ever find herself the victim of some random violent attack one day. The detectives would probably take a look at her computer, like they did on those cop shows on television, and would find all of the pictures that she'd so carefully saved and sorted and renamed for easy re-access. Her parents would freak, she'd still be laying in a hospital bed unaware of all the turmoil going on, and Sam would probably realize that every single one of the naked girls somehow resembled her. Thank God no one in this family was nosy enough to sneak into her room and check caches.
CheerCapt02: You shouldn't make fun of people you don't know. I could have been sensitive about my name all my life, and when you made fun of it you might have caused me to hurl myself down the stairs in a fit of manic depression. You just never know these things. Besides, I'm the queen of one-liner come-backs, and I'd hate to stomp on your poor little ego. ::big grin::
RY1010: Well then, I bow down in deference to your almighty powers of retort, Princess. Oops, I meant, Queen. Anyway, I hate to do this, but I'm about to fall asleep on my keyboard. I need to get to bed. Would it be okay if I sent you something via e-mail. I told you I'm a writer, right? Well, I write these stories, and I thought that maybe you'd like to take a look at one of them. ::blushing shyly::
Brooke glanced at the clock before she replied, shocked to see that they'd been chatting well over an hour. It certainly didn't feel like that much time had passed.
CheerCapt02: I'd love to read one of your stories, but don't expect me to offer any kind of valid critique other than "Cool story… send me another." I'm not the literary genius of the family, that's for sure.
But if its good, maybe I'll pass it along to Sam and say it was just a little something that I came up with, Brooke considered, then discarded the idea. Nah, plagiarizing the work of some chick that you met on-line is maybe going just a step or two too far. Besides, how embarrassing would it be if she expected me to write something else? Plus, you don't even know if this girl's any good. She could suck, and then Sam would think that you sucked too. Not that that wouldn't be a good thing in the right circumstances…
RY1010: Trust me, I'm no Mark Twain, that's for sure. Maybe you could read it and tell me what you think about it tomorrow night? That is, if you're going to be around.
CheerCapt02: Oh, I'll be around. You'd just better not stand me up.
"…as her long blonde hair trailed over her lover's torso, the silky strands driving
the writhing brunette beneath her insane. The scent of their arousal was mingling
together, forming a heady, potent cocktail of sex and desire, and Adrienne knew
that as soon as the soft velvet of that tongue touched her intimately that she was
going to explode…"
Brooke took a sip from her can of Diet Coke, hazel eyes trailing eagerly across the lines of text pasted into the e-mail that she'd found in her in box that afternoon. Not only did her new friend write stories, but she wrote sex stories. Hot, steamy, full of girl on girl action sex stories, and the blonde had read this first one about six times already. Even the characterizations seemed to fit into her mental soft porn movie perfectly. There was a blonde and a brunette, alias herself and Sam, which made it all that much more easy to see the two girls writhing around together on the movie reel in her mind.
After reading through the work of fiction one last time, Brooke decided that she'd better reply, even if she wasn't sure what to say.
Wow… what can I say? That was amazing. I felt like I was really there with the characters, like I could feel what they were feeling. Have you actually done all of that stuff that you've written about? I mean, you describe it in such detail that you have to have, or else you've got one of the best imaginations that I've ever run across. Do you have any more of those? I mean, not that I'm begging for one, but I certainly wouldn't mind perusing more of your work if you want to share. Okay, maybe I am begging, but I'm doing so in a very non-groveling kind of way. You'd better be on here tonight, or else I'l… Well, I'm sure I'll think of something properly vile before the next time I see you.
Sam stared at the words of the e-mail in satisfaction, waiting patiently for her brand new cyber best friend to sign on. She'd been nervous about sending out one of her stories. No one else had actually ever read anything that she'd written before. Well, they hadn't read anything that she'd written that had been quite like the one that she'd sent Rain, and it made her extremely happy and not a little bit giddy to receive the other girl's praise.
The electronic sound of a door creaking open drew her attention, and brown eyes lit up with glee as she saw the name of the person she'd been looking for appear on her buddy list.
RY1010: Hey, you…
She couldn't wipe the grin off her face, no matter how hard she tried, and was suddenly very glad that she didn't have one of those netmeeting cameras.
CheerCapt02: Oh my God… your story? It was amazing. I must have read it like eight times. Have you really done all that stuff? Did you model your characters after anyone in particular? Have you written any more of them? Will you send them to me?
The brunette laughed, unable to restrain herself at the sight of her companion's obvious excitement.
RY1010: LOL… You're going to have to let me answer those one at a time. First of all, I'm really, really glad that you liked my story. No, I haven't done all that stuff. Well, at least not when I was conscious, but my dreams can get pretty rowdy. Yes, I did model my characters after someone(s) in particular. Yes, I've written more stories. Yes, I'll send them to you. Did I catch everything?
CheerCapt02: Yeah, I think you answered everything. Listen, I know that its maybe asking too much and I know that you might not want to do it, but I feel really comfortable talking to you and would like to do so without having to wait until you can finish typing a reply. Do you think that maybe I could call you? Or, if you don't want to do that, you can call me. I mean, no pressure, but I'd like to hear the voice that goes with the picture of you I've got in my head.
Sam felt a jolt of excitement rush through her at the typed words. She'd never really given in to the temptation to phone one of her previous online conquests, but for some reason, she wanted to talk to this girl. Maybe it was because she was more than a conquest, or more technically, not even a conquest yet. Either way, she decided to take the plunge.
RY1010: Well, I guess I could call you. I mean, if you don't mind giving your phone number out to a girl who could potentially be a complete psycho who would use the information to find out where you live and stalk you and send you tons of those Franklin Mint plates as tokens of my affection.
Because she actually knew someone who had done that. Not stalked someone that they met online, but someone who had sent about fifteen of those commemorative plates to the object of his affection.
CheerCapt02: LOL. I guess I'll just have to trust you. Okay, here goes. My number is 912-4734, and I've got to fess up. My name's not really Rain. Its Brooke.
Sam stared at the IM for a minute in complete in total shock before jumping back from the screen like she'd been burned, sending her chair to the floor in a crash as she stumbled away.
Brooke heard the crash, heard the curse, and immediately jumped out of her chair, rushing through the bathroom connecting her door to Sam's, fully expecting to find the brunette laying in a pool of blood.
"What the…" she asked, watching in amazement as her normally sane almost step-sister jumped up from her position on the floor and rushed over to stand in front of her computer, almost as if she was guarding it from attack by the blonde.
"Brooke!" she squeaked, her voice coming out a few registers too high. "What're you doing here?"
The blonde sent her friend an odd glance, a bit confused at her more bizarre than normal behavior. "Uh, I was checking to make sure that you don't have a concussion. I mean, I heard the fall. It sounded like the Berlin Wall had toppled in your room."
Sam laughed weakly, backing up so that she was even closer to her computer. "Brooke, don't be silly. The Berlin Wall fell almost a decade ago."
It was a decidedly non-responsive and even quite non-creative reply, and the blonde immediately grew even more suspicious. "Just what are you hiding back there, Sammy?"
Sam watched as Brooke stalked closer, as she craned her neck in an attempt to see what was on the computer screen, and she gulped. "Uh, nothing. Nothing at all. I just, you know, was writing an article and I don't want anyone to see it until I've finished."
Of all the excuses that she could have come up with, that one was probably only one of the few that would actually increase the blonde's curiosity rather than decrease it.
"An article? Not planning on blasting me in the paper again, are you Sammy? Come on, let me see what you're writing." Brooke was now advancing threateningly, and Sam thought fast, trying to come up with another more suitable explanation.
"Okay, you've got me. Its not an article. It's a story that I was writing and I don't like for other people to see my stuff," she explained rapidly, extremely unnerved as the blonde started darting her head left and right, trying to peek past the wall of her torso.
"Nope, I don't believe you. Come on, spill before I have to resort to drastic measures," the cheerleader warned, eyes narrowing as she focused in on a pair of terrified dark brown orbs.
"Its called privacy, Brooke. Look it up in the dictionary if you don't get it, but I'll be happy to give you a little refresher course. It means that you leave me and my things the hell alone," the brunette shot back, taking the offensive. Of course, it never had been particularly effective in the past, something she should have realized.
Brooke let her hands trace up the other girl's sides, coming to rest on her ribs. "You leave me no choice then," she said sadly.
And then, she tickled her. Seconds later Sam was squirming wildly in an attempt to avoid the torturous fingers and Brooke got her first glance at what it was that the brunette had been guarding so zealously. When she did, she released the girl abruptly, staggering back so quickly that her knees hit Sam's bed, sending her down onto the mattress with a huff.
"RY1010?" she questioned, dazed. Sam was trying to recover her breath, but managed to shoot the other girl a heated glare anyway.
"CheerCapt02… I told you not to look," she muttered, reaching over to flick off her monitor. Something, she realized suddenly, that she should have done in the first place.
"Oh my God. You've just been toying with me, haven't you? You've known all along, haven't you?" Brooke bit out, her voice trembling. This was… well, nightmarish would be a good word to describe it.
"No, I swear I didn't. At least, not until you just told me," the brunette defended. "Do you think I would have actually have mailed you my story if I'd known it was you? Hell, do you think I'd have even talked to you if I'd known it was you? Of course not," she scoffed, moving over to right her upturned chair before settling down into its comforting confines. "Don't blame this one on me."
"But… you mean… that is… you wrote that story before? You were in that chatroom because you were… looking for… you were trolling for girls?" Brooke managed to stutter, her eyes narrowing in contemplation of the girl sitting before her, taking in the sudden wide-eyed Bambi look the brunette was sporting. "So when you told me that you had the hots for… oh shit, you were talking about me?"
"No," Sam threw back, jumping out of her chair once more to pace nervously across the room. "I mean, what an ego. Just because I wrote a story about this gorgeous blonde with bright hazel eyes, you automatically think its you that I was thinking about?"
Brooke's nose wrinkled in confusion. "Actually I wasn't talking about the story, but now that you mention it, Stephanie and I do have remarkably similar physical characteristics," she mumbled, mentally comparing herself to the blonde half of the duo that had spent the better part of her almost step-sister's story making wild, passionate love.
Sam mentally cursed, but then tried admirably to recover.
"Well, it wasn't you," she retorted, failing miserably at her goal to throw the other girl off her trail.
"Oh yeah? Then who was it?" Brooke challenged, gaining far more satisfaction from the look of chagrin that shot across the other girl's face than she probably should have.
Sam was silent for a moment, then decided that even though it hadn't really worked the first time, she was going to try the offensive again. "Well, what about you? Just who is this brown-eyed brunette that you're lusting over?" she ventured, jaw shooting out obstinately.
Brooke thought about that one for a moment, then decided to go with the truth. "I was talking about you, Sam."
That seemed to take the fight right out of the brunette, and Sam slumped dejectedly back into her desk chair, staring glumly at the ground. "Oh," she exhaled, her mind spinning.
Brooke waited patiently, sure that she'd get something out of the other girl in a few seconds if only she'd wait long enough, but after close to a minute of staring at Sam's dumbstruck countenance, she decided that it just wasn't happening.
"Oh? Is that all you've got to say?" she asked finally, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible.
"Uh, yeah," Sam croaked, finally bringing her eyes up to meet nervous hazel. After a moment more, she cleared her throat, deciding that she'd better build on that or else the blonde currently shooting daggers at her was bound to hack her into tiny pieces in frustration. "I mean, that's really… nice."
Brooke blew out a breath of frustration. "Nice," she muttered, almost as if to herself. "I fess up and all she has to say is nice. Well, fine then."
With that little out-loud private pep talk, the blonde rose from her seat on the bed, apparently prepared to stride regally from the room. Noticing her companion's intent, Sam jumped from her chair, crossing the space between them in a few bounds until she was blocking the other girl's path.
"What I meant was, wow," she said softly, glancing up shyly from underneath delicately arched brows. "Because, you know, I really was talking about you. I was just lying before when I said I wasn't."
The blonde smiled at the hesitant words, reaching up to tuck a strand of long dark hair behind the other girl's ear. Sam leaned into the touch, and unable to stop herself, Brooke leaned forward until their lips were only millimeters apart, their hot breath mixing in the synaptic space between them.
"I know," she said gently, then closed the distance.
At first the kiss was hesitant, just a barely there tease of skin, until Sam suddenly surged forward, parting her lips so that she could taste the other girl. At the feel of a soft, velvety tongue teasing her lips, Brooke moaned, then opened herself to the other girl. Somehow, in the midst of all of that, they managed to stumble back toward the bed, falling in a lump of tangled limbs onto the springy mattress.
Pulling away, laughing at the mess of awkward body parts that they'd managed to make of themselves, Brooke smiled. Sam smiled back, dark eyes twinkling with humor.
"I guess this means that I don't have to talk to you online any more?" she teased, bending down to nuzzle Brooke's neck briefly. "I can actually see the real deal?"
"Well, only if you ask nicely," came the flirtatious reply, and Sam cocked a brow in question.
"What was that you were saying about liking my story?" she asked, discreetly shifting her body so that her torso fell in the vee of the other girl's thighs.
Brooke gasped at the pressure, hazel eyes turning smoky with sudden arousal. "Slow it down, Speed Racer. This girl has to be wooed," she husked, rolling her hips just once to torment the other girl.
With a low groan, Sam dropped her head to the mattress. "Great. I manage to hook up with the one girl on the entire Internet actually looking for a real relationship," she teased gently, rolling over so that she was laying to the side of the source of her torment, not quite sure that she was going to be able to think coherently for much longer in the position she'd been in before.
Brooke simply laughed at the pout thrown her way. Reaching over to place a short kiss on the other girl's lips, she smirked.
"You can handle it, Stud. Just think of what you'll get in return for your efforts," she replied. Then, grinning a bit evilly, she quoted, "…her long blonde hair trailed over her lover's torso, the silky strands driving the writhing brunette beneath her insane."
Sam simply groaned again, sincerely hoping that there was a guide for extremely expeditious wooing lurking around somewhere on the Internet, because she'd certainly hate to implode from unresolved sexual tension.
After all, something like that would never find its way into one of her stories.