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Mad One

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"You're fucked, y'know that?" Franky pinned her to the wall and touched her lips to Bea's ear. "I've been flat out with Liz all arvo trying to keep Mrs Jackson off our backs, and here you are sitting on that pretty little arse of yours."

"I thought it was better if I stayed out of the way." She forced the words out and tried to focus on anything other than Franky's hands. Her grip, that angry bite to her voice, even the scent of Vegemite on her lips: what was it about Doyle that made her feel hot all over and in need of a shower? "Make things easier for youse."

"You've been watching me all day." Franky slid her hand past the waistband of Bea's pants. "Bet you've gotten off a few times too, eh? I've seen you having a perv."

"Franky." Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn't. It didn't matter really. All that did was she get what she wanted, now. "You and me—"

She cupped Bea through her undies, sliding her fingers over her mound and that sensitive clit hidden beneath the cotton. "So is it just me, or are you hot for all the girls?"

Bea leaned forward, grinding against her hand as she went, and kissed her before Franky could speak again. Sweet tea, salty toast, Kim; it all lingered on Franky's lips like a To Do list. Now she'd be on there too. "You're a cunt, y'know that?"

"Least I'm a mad one."