Give Them Something to Write About

"Ugh! Veronica, can you believe this smut?" Emilie Autumn called from the lounge at the back of their tour bus.

"Smut? What smut? I love smut!" Veronica Varlow came running from the front sitting area.

"No running on the bus," Melissa, Emilie's manager, said dully as the burlesque dancer breezed past her bunk. Melissa was far too tired to have yet another conversation with Veronica about tour bus rules.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry."

Emilie giggled, taunting her friend in a sing-song voice, "You got in troubllllle."

Veronica rolled her eyes before jumping onto the couch; she bounced into Emilie, ripping the iPhone from her hand to read the "smut" for herself.

"Give me that," Emilie snatched her phone back. "Listen to this: Veronica slid her slender fingers up and down Emilie's pale thigh," Emilie read in a sultry voice. Veronica hung on every word and her heart sank when Emilie stopped reading. "It's so unrealistic," the blond groaned. "You don't even have slender fingers."

Veronica's expression turned to a pout and she examined her fingers. "I think that they're slender," she muttered. Emilie scuffed. She grabbed a pen and a scrap piece of paper off the floor and began to write. "This is what they should have written: Veronica slid her man-hands up and down Emilie's strong, toned thigh."

"I don't have man-hands!" Veronica protested. "And your thighs aren't toned," she jabbed Emilie's leg with her forefinger.

"Toned enough," Emilie replied as she tossed the paper aside and moved to straddle Veronica; she held her friend in place with her slightly toned thighs. Emilie took Veronica's face in her hands and kissed her deeply. "We should give them something more to write about," she breathed.

Emilie's hot breath on her ear sent shivers down Veronica's spine; she nodded excitedly. Emile kissed her again, gliding her tongue across Veronica's lips, asking for admittance into her mouth. Veronica obliged, parting her lips so that Emilie's tongue could snake in. The blond's firm hands traveled up her raven haired friend's body until she reached her breasts. Veronica let out a moan.

"No sex in the lounge!" Melissa called, half asleep, from her bunk.

The pair groaned.

Emilie sighed, "Fuck it, I'm tired." She crawled off Veronica.

"Wait," Veronica whimpered. "you aren't really going to leave me like this, are you?"

"Yep," Emilie slid into her bunk and closed the curtain.

"Bitch." Veronica sat in disbelief for a moment before calling sweetly, "Hey Mags-"

"Pass!" came the red head's groggy reply.

"Fuck," Veronica curled into a sexually frustrated ball on the couch. "Where's Bloody Crumpet Cucumber when I need her?"