{Rebel}ling Against the Norm {R}

[Raelena St. John]

Rae wanted to get laid.

It was rather simple, actually. Ever since she'd started dating Eve, and trying to keep it exclusive so the jealous she-dragon didn't eat poor girls, Rae had been denied one of the few things that she craved so much. As a result, she was becoming increasingly pugilistic, and increasingly antagonistic. People were the enemy, especially male peoples. Girls, on the other hand...

Rae's eyes traced the curves of an Academy girl who'd escaped for a drink. Said curves were emphasized by such a wonderful, tight white dress. It wasn't a stretch for Rae to picture said dress in a more appropriate place.

"F**k," spat the rockstar. She made a beeline for the bar.

The tender recognized his boss's pattern, and had a bottle ready for her by the time she got there. Rae quickly plucked it from his hands, taking a swig directly from it. Crass as ever, some things never change.

"I disnae ken how much more I can take this," she murmured, scanning the bar. Would taking one just to slake her hunger really be cheating? She'd once concluded "no" but she still couldn't be sure.

Another swig.

"D**m, I ought ta jus' sing or someit. Take m'mind off o' thin's," she murmured, again surveying the crowd. It was hard to keep the predatory glint from her eye.

[· Rebel La'Beau.]

"A French 75, please." Her voice was sweet, but not that strained, excessively sugary sweet that made your lips pucker in response, no, Rebel came across nothing short of diplomatic, and deathly honest, but with a heated, sultry edge like some naughty, twisted, pink-haired librarian. She had come out of nowhere, more or less, and was now leaning on the bar enticingly, all leg in three-inch pumps and the tiniest dress.

"No, no, just a Jack and Coke," her mind was already a bit hazy, and the cocktail she usually drank like water back home suddenly sounded a bit too sweet. Gin was a killer, not to mention the champagne, lemon juice, and sugar that would surely have upset her stomach to an obscene amount. Smiling in the most dazzling fashion at the tender, she shifted her weight to the other leg, causing her hips to sway dangerously as she tossed a hot pink curl over her shoulder.

The night was young and this sleepy Midwestern town was already nearly dead, save for the club. Rebel wasted her hours and days here simply hating everything, because she was terribly homesick, and while she had never been needy, she was most certainly alone here, and it was beginning to finally grate on her. She missed her friends and work and the excitement and lights of Paris, and tonight, she was just trying to find something that could compare.

[Raelena St. John]

The bar would not prove to be the refuge Rae sought. No sooner had the rockstar arrived, then something pink poured into view. Rae eagerly drank the view before her, fighting against the urge to lick her lips. Sugar and spice, everything nice. Apparently with Jack and Coke as well.

"'ello lass," greeted Rae. The rockstar effortless slid into place next to Rebel, occupying the territory with extreme confidence. Clearly Rae had always belonged there. The lycan grinned at Rebel, winking gamely.

"Havenae seen ye around afore," Rae added. She waved the bartender off as he produced drinks for both girls. It all looked like magic, and the right kind, obviously. Rae's hand curled around her bottle, and she pulled it closer to her. No, this wasn't what she most wanted to drink. It was pulled to her lips, yes, but hardly noticed.

"Nice hair."

[· Rebel La'Beau.]

While Rae wouldn't find the peace she was itching for, Rebel just might have stumbled across a taste of the excitement she was searching for. Turning to face the rock star, something in the depths of her smoldering green eyes lit up, intrigued.

"Hey," and her lips curled, forming a smirk that was nothing short of decadent. Their drinks made an appearance and the fashion designer and sometimes model wrapped her hand around the glass, bringing the enticing cocktail to her lips.

"I haven't been around for long." Having only been in the states for something like three weeks, Rebel had wasted the first locked in her Dorm drinking martini's and cursing the world, officially one of the best looking creatures to every wear the storm cloud over head like it was one of her own designer hats. The second week, she had spent locked in her Dorm, drinking Long Island Ice Tea's and bemoaning her fate, already terribly homesick and deathly out of place. It was just recently, that she had begun to venture past her room, to class and outside and eventually in town and tonight, to the club. She suddenly found herself musing, wondering if maybe her luck was changing.

"Thanks," and she found herself reaching up to touch the stunning curls, letting them fall over her shoulders like a valentine curtain. The hairdo had been an incredibly impulsive move, but about six months ago she had grown so incredibly bored of her brown hair and pretty, but normal appearance. The nose ring and hot pink hair came first, and she hadn't stopped infuriating her mother since. To be honest, Rebel thought the color was hot, and when she modeled for Victoria's Secret over the summer, she had gotten more compliments then any of the blondes.

"I'm Rebel."

[Raelena St. John]

Clearly the girl hadn't been around long. Rebel looked like the type who would be in the Cave every weekend, either partying or drowning her sorrows. Someone like that couldn't have possibly been here long and missed Rae's notice, even if the lycan had recently acquired tunnel vision.

Unfortunately, Rae rarely paid attention to the fashion world. Her only real contribution had been to approve a clothing line using her name. Nothing more. Even that had been an off-hand, flippant decision. In and out. So the lycan didn't recognize Rebel as a fashionista or a model.

Rae just knew a hot girl when she saw one.

"Rae," offered the rockstar, raising her bottle again. Again she drank, but hardly noticed. Going through the motions. "An' ye in luck. Tis m'bar an' I love ta give free drinks ta sexy lasses."

Rae let her eyes trail up Rebel, and grinned. "So ye get free drinks. Welcome ta th' Cave."

[· Rebel La'Beau.]

"Free drinks and compliments?" Rebel raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical, but intrigued more than anything. "Well, you're a girl after my own 'heart." Her accent, that decidedly tempting French twist, came on a little stronger just then, and as she slipped back onto a bar stool, crossing her legs and peering at the rock star over the edge of her glass, Rebel looked like something out of a black and white flick, oozing sex appeal and accent, all leg and no shame, she was a throwback to Mae West and Marilyn Monroe in the most enticing sense.

Rebel didn't pick up on Rae's stardom right away either, though she would surely pin it down eventually because while it wasn't exactly her type of beat, everyone - and especially someone sunk so far into not only the entertainment industry, but the highest party scene, like Rebel - had heard of Raelena St. John. Though perhaps it was for the best, that each girl thought the other to be just a pretty face, instead of the smothering reality that was fame.

"So, Rae," she repeated the name to herself inwardly, forcing herself to make it stick despite the fuzzy haze she had turned her mind into.
"What's a girl around here 'ave to do for a little excitement?" Because Masonville so far, had presented itself to be as dull as an evening at the laundromat.

[Raelena St. John]

The accent was nearly as delicious as the lips that birthed it. Rae could only smile as she listened. Own heart? Hmm, there were so many ways of taking that, and Rae's mind walked twisted paths, coming to exactly the conclusion the hormone-addled brain wanted.

"Well," Rae leaned against her bar, musing for a bit, "tain't a whole lot. Th' club's aboot th' only place wha' serves anythin' worth th' havin'. Sometimes we have performers get oop an' sing." Oo, there was an idea. Rae had sung her way into more beds than she cared to count, and the idea of doing so with Rebel held great appeal. "I ken we have a bowlin' alley."

The wild Scot couldn't help but chuckle at that. As if either girl would be caught dead anywhere near a bowling alley. Their corpses would stand up and walk away in disgust.

"Ye in th' Midwest, lass," offered Rae as she took a swig, "ye drink an' ye f**k."

Arched brows and teasing smile. "Tain't much else."

[· Rebel La'Beau.]

"Hmmm," Rebel took a long sip from her drink, processing the information with a bit of grief. She really, honest to god, seriously hated this place, and her mother for sending her here. Knowing all that she did now, the heiress had decided that if she were offered the same chance again, she would definitely face the press and rehab, instead of choosing this terrible school.

"I figured as much."
Finishing her drink and setting it aside, Rebel licked her lips, trying to dispel the cloud of melancholy that had been sinking in. Tapping the bar to signal a refill, the fashionista turned back to the rock star with a smile that was decidedly sly and distracting.

"So, tell me about yourself, Rae." Dragging her teeth over her lip out of habit, the French exchange set her elbow upon the bar and rested her chin there, slightly dejected with thoughts of home, but overcoming it with the curiosity she felt for Rae.

[Raelena St. John]

It was hard to look at Rebel and not crave her. Especially for Rae. Especially in Rae's current "condition."

She just stopped short of staring, using her own drink as a distraction. Sip, glance, sip. Amateurish, really. If Rae weren't riled to begin with, she'd never have made such moves. She was far too skilled to behave like this.

So she reined in herself as best she could, putting on an air of casual interest. It might work, though even Rae was uncertain. Hard to act when jumping the other person sounded entirely too good.

"Ye could jus' wait fir th' VH1 special," joked Rae. She smirked and turned slightly toward Rebel. "Ah own th' bar, an' ah happen tae sing a wee bit. Ye may o' heard o' me record, even if it tain't ye type o' music. Scored big or someit."

The understatement thoroughly amused Rae, and she grinned widely now. Her eyes danced with merriment, and she continued. "Won a wee bit o' a contest some years back. Now ah jus' own a shoddy club in th' middle o' nowhere."

This was fun. She needed this.

[· Rebel La'Beau.]

As Rae began speaking, Rebel leaned forward, her velveteen curls slipping around her face as she reached out and took the drink out of Rae's hand, their fingers grazing for a moment as the Almasian set the rock star's glass on the bar besides her. The blonde's fidgeting had started to get to her, and so Rebel removed the problem so that she could properly listen to the other girl, wearing the most devious smile throughout the entire exchange. Settling back onto her stool, the girl rested her chin in her palm once more, offering Rae her full attention.

"Raelena St. John," she paused, her expression dawning a small bit of wonderment. Finally able to place the other girl, Rebel smirked. It was true that Rae's music wasn't really her style as the fashionista had a bizarre love affair with metal, and opera, Giacomo Puccini being her very favorite, but still, one hears a lot about Raelena, and almost as much about her very bizarre personality and personal life, as they did about her music.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet the infamous Raelena. My brother loves your music," Eli loved all things American, or just everything non-Parisian, and Rae certainly fit the bill there. "I'm tempted to ask for an autograph, but," she paused, licking her lips before taking another sip from her drink, looking nothing short of mischievous and once she spoke again, her tone was all innuendo.

"I don't have any paper."

[Raelena St. John]

Rebel and Rae were going to be friends, at the least. More, if Rae had things her way. Which was perfect, really. She might even be able to explain it away to Eve. A random encounter at a bar. Some French chick. Pressure release, nothing more.

"Brot'er?" repeated Rae, lip quirking to a smile. she chuckled, shaking her head. "Tha' disnae happen often."

True, it was usually males futilely using that line on Raelena. For that matter, one of the first things Kennedy had mentioned was how much Morgan had liked Rae's music. Fat lot of good it had done them.

"Well," Rae leaned over, licking her own lips, "who says ye need paper? Ye could always give me someit else ta sign. I expect tha' most o' th' good places tain't someit ye'd show ye brot'er. Least," Rae titled her head, smiling deviously, "les' hope nae."

She tapped the bar twice, slid off her stool, then hopped over. Humming, she ducked underneath, and one could hear rummaging for a while. After a bit, she popped up, waving a Sharpie in Rebel's direction.

"Pick a spot, or two," Rae scanned Rebel again, "or three."

[· Rebel La'Beau.]

"He's a little off-beat." Rebel admitted with a smile, finishing her drink and pushing it aside, her eyes catching Rae's with no attempt to hide the pouting expression. The rock star was behind the bar after all, and more than welcome to fill up her glass once more.

"Mmm, I'm glad you caught my drift," Smirking with all the feline deviousness that one girl could possibly muster, Rebel stood, hoisting herself up so that she could sit on the bar besides where the Scot stood. Leaning back on her palms and crossing her legs so that her dress rose up her thighs a little more, and her long legs hung off the bar besides her new friend, the pink-haired vixen grinned.

" 'Ow about here," she pointed to a spot just below her exposed collarbone and leaned forward, so that the blonde could reach it better, "and here?" And to the curve of her tan thigh, just before the hemline of her deadly green dress.

[Raelena St. John]

Life was good.
And this so didn't count.

The two thoughts rode each other as they traveled through Rae's mind, barreling at incredible speeds. The smiling rockstar caught the pout, and took many meanings behind it. Fortunately for Rebel, one of those reasons happened to be "further the lubrication."

"First thin's first, aye?" the lycan chuckled as she nudged the sloshing glass toward Rebel. Her amorous mood made her even more generous, and bits of alcohol slopped onto the bar. Rae paid them little mind, and hopped up beside Rebel.

The rockstar wrenched the cap off the Sharpie, her smile slipping into the look of a pure predator. Rae reached for Rebel's hair, tucking it to the side. It hardly mattered whether any of the bright strands were in the way, Rae just wanted to touch it.

She then leaned in, raising the Sharpie and signing her name with great vigor, finishing the last "T" and final period with unnecessary flourishes. Rae then dared leaned in, gently pressing her lips to the edge of the words. Her teeth dragged lightly over the skin, before she finally, reluctantly, pulled away.

"Sorry," Rae looked anything but, "got a wee bit excited," there was a more accurate description, "'sides, little compensation ne'er hurt."

A hand dangled down, trailing along the other designated spot. Rae glanced down, then met Rebel's eyes, raising her brows. "Might get a wee bit sloppy down there. Take me a few tries ta get it righ'."

She scooted slightly back. The dress slid further up at the guidance of a hand. And the tip of a marker touched the skin. This time, Rae took her time, slowly drawing letters. Full name. Large loops at the "L," the "S," hell, wherever Rae could manage it. The lycan titled her head, half-smiling.

Too much fun.

"There ye go," she said, capping the marker and winking. She tapped her work. "Couldnae disappoint a fan."

[· Rebel La'Beau.]

"Mmm, thanks cheri," Rebel laughed softly, a charming sound that made it obvious just how French she was considering that even her giggle had an accent. Picking up the glass as Rae tucked away the errant pink curls, she took a long drink, smiling against the glass as she felt the Sharpie tickle her skin, shooting goosebumps against her bare flesh like a wave. It certainly didn't help the the rock star had the nerve to make thing worse by biting her. Granted, it wasn't really a bite, just a playful nip, but Rebel enjoyed it under either label and yet, she would still play coy.

She didn't respond right away, raising the glass to her lips once more and looking like something peeled straight out of a James Bond flick, all mystery and danger and long, long legs.

"Don't get too worked up darling," and she paused, licking her lip to savor a second taste of her drink, "At least not yet."

Rae's touch caused more goosebumps, this time all over Rebel's legs as she drew out her name, taking sweet time with all the curves and crosses. Not that the fashion queen minded, no, she loved the attention too much to care if her thighs were getting a little chilly. As the Scot finished her work, Rebel stretched out her legs, admiring the signature with a small, playful sort of smile.

"What, no kiss this time?"

[Raelena St. John]

Rae still had it.

Sometimes you just needed a reminder. Particularly when the person you were supposed to be closest to kept pushing you away. Rebel played coy, sure, but she certainly wasn't pushing Rae away. Quite the contrary, in fact. Which, of course, simply further encouraging the lycan.

Rae had to take a deep breath, reining her desires in. A long dry spell, plus a ridiculously attractive woman, with just a dash of alcohol, should overwhelm the lycan. In fact, she could already feel the desire clouding her judgment, destroying reservations.

"Ye didnae ask," glibly replied Rae. She slid closer to Rebel, pressing leg against leg. For once, Rae had opted to wear a playfully short skirt, one that did most of the flirting for you. It was almost as if she'd known she'd run into someone enthralling and delicious today. The rockstar casually shifted, letting their skin slide against one another. A playful smile fluttered onto her face.

"Ye ken, I could charge fir me kisses," she speculated, twisting to pluck a bottle from the bar. At this point, she no longer cared who the owner happened to be. She pulled from it. "Ye ken, th' fame an' all tha'."

She waved the bottle. Then she leaned in, stopping just short of those curls and those beguiling features. "So, do ye have someit ta offer fir a few kisses? Or should I consider this a charity?"