“You’re staring again,” my best friend Casey whispered, elbowing me in the ribs.

I grunted and gave her a sideways look. “I am not. I’m thinking. You know I space out and look like I’m staring when I’m thinking.” We were at the campus library after classes doing homework and I was thinking about quadrilaterals.

“Yeah, well, does Arabella know that?”

Arabella Stevens was one of those girls you don’t want to be caught staring at. Everyone knew who she was and no one wanted to cross her. Rumor had it she was actually in a gang and had even shot a few people, but I wasn’t convinced. Yeah, she was a hardass, but something told me she wasn’t quite that much of a hardass. Although I knew for a fact that sophomore year she got an A in history even though she always skipped it… and I’m pretty sure it’s because she was banging the professor.

I snorted softly and came back to the present. “Arabella doesn’t even know I exist, so I think I’ll be fine,” I said, head dropping back to finish drawing the quadrilateral I had started with meticulous precision.

A shadow fell over my homework paper and a low, smooth voice assaulted my ears unexpectedly. Arabella’s voice. “See something you like, Vicky?”

Jesus Christ, she did know who I was. “Victoria,” I snapped without looking up; I hated being called Vicky by anyone but my closest friends.

I could practically feel Casey’s eyes burning a hole into the side of my skull.

“You were the one staring at me, Vicky, so I’ll call you what I like,” she snapped back, and before I could talk myself out of the irrational reaction I had tightened my grip on the ruler in my left hand and smacked her across the side of her thigh.

Casey literally squeaked beside me and I cringed, fully expecting to raise my eyes and be looking down the barrel of a gun or looking at her closed fist from the floor, flat on my back.

When neither of the above happened, there was no backing down. I finally looked up at her, my jaw set stubbornly. “I said, Victoria.”

An interminable moment passed between us, both of us now staring, my breath coming slow and heavy while a blush dusted her pale face. I had the sudden urge to grab her by her long, dark hair and force her down to her knees in those ridiculously baggy jeans and sheer black baby-doll tee shirt she was wearing. I mean honestly, did she have no tact? I could clearly see her bra. Victoria’s secret. Dark red. Not unlike the color that was still persisting in her cheeks.

She cleared her throat softly, muttered ‘Victoria’ under her breath, and she was gone. Casey punched me in the arm so hard I had a bruise for three days.

--

The next time I saw her outside of classes was at some boozer Casey dragged me to a few weeks later. I had to admit, she looked fine as hell. Perfectly painted face, her dark makeup contrasting with the lightness of her skin, the cat’s eye design of her eyeliner drawing attention to pools of deep green. She’d ditched the emo ensemble in favor of a schoolgirl uniform type thing that I hadn’t known I needed to see before this very moment. Now I felt like I would have stopped breathing without it. She was surrounded by the usual crowd of groupies and I would have been content to just stand there looking from afar but she caught my eye and excused herself from the throng, and suddenly she was standing right in front of me with her hands lightly resting on my waist.

“You look hot,” she leaned up and whispered in my ear.

Rather than evaluating my own attire and presentation I just went with it, turning my lips to her ear. “You look good enough to spank until you cry and then fuck until you scream,” I murmured, teeth closing gently over the lobe.

I felt her shake and stumble on her feet, leaning into me, and I held her up. “Jesus fucking Christ,” she hissed at me, her perfect eyes wide. Her hands trembled on my waist and I wondered how much of her reputation was false bravado.

I raised an eyebrow and regarded her with a tiny smirk. “Did that make you wet?”

To my surprise she didn’t even flinch at the crass question, she just pressed herself harder against me. “Yes… fuck…”

Maybe she wasn’t used to people flexing their muscles at her, but I don’t play games. I speak my mind and say what I want. It’s my most endearing and alienating quality in one. I turned her around and pressed her into the nearest wall, one hand winding into the hair I’d been dying to touch as the other came down hard across the seat of her skirt. That wasn’t nearly satisfying enough even though she gasped and jumped. “Hold your skirt up,” I demanded, a shiver snaking through me as she instantly obeyed. “Now ask.”

“Please…” The word tumbled from her lips without hesitation.

I traced the outline of her panties with one fingertip. “Please what?”

She whimpered and I could see her knuckles strain with the grip on her skirt. “Please spank me, Victoria…”

I obliged her then, tugging down her panties and applying my hand solidly again and again, until her backside was red and hot to the touch and she was sniffling against the wall. I reined myself in and gently kissed her tears away, turning her to face me with the hand in her hair while my other hand danced between her thighs, my fingers coated with slick warmth as I pushed inside.

The noise that left her mouth was better than a scream, and when she came I let her bite down on my shoulder to stifle her cries.