Thread: Fox at Bay (Alan23 x Sweetred)

Snowflaik had been at 'er booze again, Sianelle saw. Honestly, did that stupid gel fink she couldn't work out 'ow much there should be in a full bottle? Still, she'd gorn now, and she doubted she'd see 'er 'till after dark. Why bovver? Neighbours was still on, then they'd be Coronation Street, and then she could nip art for some fish an' chips or a takeaway chicken tikka, and be back in time for the movie. She sat in the sagging armchair, the bottle by her side, not bothering with a glass. As the soap stars went through their exciting lives, with their constantly changing partners, white teeth, dramatically emotional exchanges and perfect designer outfits, she took sips from the bottle's neck, feeling more and more relaxed as the warming spirit eased its way into her mind, relaxing her from the cares of the day. She found herself, as she always did, sizing up the male actors, waiting for the moment which inevitably occurred in every episode when you saw one of them with a bare chest flashing their muscles, or swimming in the surf. Neighbours was always good for that. Wouldn't it be good to live in a place like Australia, where everyone lived in massive houses and drove luxury cars, and nowhere was more than a quick walk to the beach, and the sun shone twenty four hours a day? Not like 'ere, wiv its constant rain pissing dahn, and bleedin' nosey social workers on yer back non-stop! She found her hands straying down to her crotch, unzipping the fly of her tight jeans, and pushing her knickers aside. Gently teasing herself, her mouth slightly open, and her eyes taking on a glazed look as she stared, enraptured, at the screen. There was nothing like it, really, was there. Here alone, the telly, a bottle of something good, and... Well, yes, there was. The thought threatened to spoil her lovely game. What would have been better was to have a real man, so you didn't have to diddle your oyster for want of anything better. A nice, tall, strong man, with muscles everywhere, and curly hair, and nice eyes. Shit, it looked so easy on telly. You just met someone in a bar, exchanged a few words, flirted a bit, and back home to bed. His bed for choice, since she was a bit ashamed of her own, with its sagging mattress and stains on the coverlet, and she'd been too busy to clean up for a few weeks, and Snowflaik, lazy cow, never did an 'and's turn to help. Oh, why could she never meet a man? Everyone else seemed to have no trouble! Mum was at it again. One of those nights when she always wanted everything just so. The best china, with its pattern of little cherries. The big teapot, and napkin rings, and the spotless white cloth. Didn't she know that normal people just didn't do that sort of thing any more? Normal people ate off trays in front of the television. Normal girls were allowed to go to their rooms, and listen to music or call their friends on their mobiles. Not that this would have done Xianna much good, even if Mum would allow it. Who would she call? She had no friends. The other girls at school either teased her or bullied her, or laughed at her. After today, with that mortifying incident of Snowflaik Leary ripping off her skirt, her life would be even more a misery. She could already see it. Jokes about her big, Bridget-Jones knickers with her blouse tucked into them like a little kid, about her being such a wimp she couldn't even defend herself, about the way she couldn't seem to help being able to cry, no matter how hard she tried. And at that thought, she started crying again, reliving the embarrassing incident of the day, forgetting that Mum could probably hear her through the wall. Girls shouldn't be allowed to rip other girls' skirts off! she screamed, her fists clenched in tearful frustration. And make other girls do their homework, and give them their money. It's not fair. It's not fair! IT'S NOT FAIR! And then, suddenly, she realized that the noise of clanking plates in the kitchen had stopped!