They were sitting around Frenchy's room, cigarettes out, clothes everywhere, face masks on. Sandy was sitting sedately in the corner reading a magazine, Rizzo lying all over the bed, wrinkling up the covers.

'Oooh look!' Marty squealed, showing them the latest fashion piece, flared shorts and pastel green. Frenchy twittered over the hairstyles of the rich and famous, envisaging herself as hairdresser to the stars. In reality she had only gotten as far as learning to curl hair. No matter. Beauty school was going to set her up for life, she thought happily.

It was man mad Marty who started it all of course. 'I could so go out with the president's son' she breathed. 'Can you imagine me on his arm? I'd look spectacular.' Jan agreed enthusiastically, she always did.

'Only in the back seat in his sports car.' Rizzo spoke languidly, against the shocked squeals of the girls. Stretched lazily out on the bed catlike, she lit her cigarette, ash smouldering on the sheets. Frenchy, fearing for her bed covers, shooed her into sitting cross legged instead.

'You would think so' Marty resumed the conversation scornfully. 'You'd get into the back seat of anyone's car if it suited you.' Sandy tried not to listen, sex talk always unnerved her.

'Excuse me. I am fairly monogamous if you must know. I don't get into just anyone's car. I do have standards.'

Marty snorted in disbelief.

'They've got to have a nice manner when they speak to me. Take me out to dinner down at the jukebox diner once in a while. And have a big car.'

'Of course. The bigger the better for you.'

'I'm not a snob like you Marty. Doesn't matter about it being an expensive car. Just has to have a big enough backseat.' She smiled mischievously.

'Quantity over quality, typical' Marty sniffed.

'Oh don't be so judgemental. You should try it sometime.' Rizzo inhaled, looked up at the ceiling. Kenickie was proving to be quite the gentleman so far. And he had a comfortable car. Everything she required from a guy. 'There's nothing like a bit of back seat action to get you going. You know what I mean.' She chuckled to herself to the disapproval of Marty. Looking over at the demure figure by the dressing table, her smile faded. Little Miss Sandra Dee. So perfect. 'You don't know what I mean' she said dismissively, to Sandy's mortification. Jan giggled unhelpfully; Frenchy shot her a look of remorse on Rizzo's unwilling behalf. Sandy tried to stand her ground.

'I wouldn't want to.'

Rizzo smirked.

'You don't know what you're missing out on.' She raised an eyebrow to illuminate exactly what. Sandy observed it in the mirror timidly. 'Well I think you're completely immoral' she said flatly, resolutely looking at her magazine.

Rizzo stared at her incredulously, walked past and whispered in her ear 'I think you're completely boring.'

Sandy blushed bright red, to the giggles of Jan and Marty, the horrified face of Frenchy. Rizzo smirked.

'Riz, that's not nice' Frenchy chided gently.

Sandy took a deep breath and faced her adversary. Laid a white hand on the tanned arm. Started in an encouraging tone.

'Y'know I really think you should brush up on your manners. You won't get anywhere if you don't treat people a little nicer. And a little more ladylike.'

Rizzo bridled at the tone and the words 'ladylike.' She couldn't think of anything worse. Staring straight into those pretty blue eyes, she leaned closer and delivered her reprimand in a low voice, crinkling her nose in a parody of the drip of a girl she so despised.

'I really think you need to get laid.'

She shook her hand off and got up, satisfied with her parting shot. Sandy sat there, crushed, the tears just about to fall.

'I'll be outside if anyone needs me.' Rizzo casually sauntered to the door, cigarette in hand.