A Thing For Bad Girls

Chanell Heart lounges in her living room, phone pressed to her ear. "Last date was a total bust," she groans. "I’m dying out here. What does it take to find a girl worth keeping around?" She glances up as the side door clicks open. "Got to go," she mutters, ending the call. Gianna Dior steps inside wearing oversized clothes, a baseball cap pulled low, a backpack slung over her shoulder. Calm, focused, Gianna slides her right hand into her jacket pocket and keeps something trained on Chanell’s chest. "I just robbed a bank," Gianna says. "Need twelve hours to lie low. You’re going to give it to me." Chanell raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Show me what’s in your hand." A beat. Gianna pulls her hand out—empty except for the upright middle finger she’d been aiming like a pistol. Chanell breaks into a slow, hungry smile. "You pulled that off with nothing but attitude?" Her voice has gone thick. She steps closer, eyes sliding over Gianna like they’re already undressing her. "Dangerous and cocky. I like that. What if the cops bust down the door?" Gianna answers, low and steady. "They won’t, unless you say something. Are you going to?" Chanell bites her lip, heat rising between her thighs. "I’m at the mercy of that finger now."