A Recipe for Evil

Vanity Is the Quicksand of Reason

"Vanity is the quicksand of reason" George Sand

With the newest development on her relationship with Myriam, Amy is starting to see their friendship in a new light. She has learned to enjoy being in the other woman's presence. It could seem strange for someone observing the evolution of their relationship from an external point of view, but Amy loves to be the center of attention. She loves to be admired.

As much as Amy used to dislike having any form of physical contact with the raven beauty, she suddenly can't get enough of it. It isn't that she enjoys the physical aspect of touching her because she doesn't.

She is simply pleased to see the various reactions such interactions can generate.

She has realized that when she returns the soft, slightly tickling, caresses the other girl tends to unconsciously give to her arms and legs, Myriam listens much more to what she has to say, smiles at her from time to time, and even giggles if she is in a particularly good mood.

She is amused by how Myriam flushes every time she lets her lips linger on her cheek, a bit longer than necessary, after kissing her soft skin.

More than all, she enjoys to see Myriam shiver under her fingers whenever she runs them over her neck or down her back. It's as though her touch can magically transform a tiger into a purring cat and it makes her feel special, unique, and somehow extraordinary.

One could believe that this abrupt change in Amy's behavior means that her heart is starting to warm up to the other woman, but it's not the case. On the contrary, it's simply a new way she has found to express her contempt of her. What Amy likes about this novelty in their relationship is that it puts her in a position of superiority over the other girl. She is the one with the upper hand because Myriam, though she does not talk about it, seems to care about her. It's still not enough. Except for that single moment of weakness in the car, Myriam does not confide in her. Amy is starting to believe that she does not confide in anybody at all, not even to Melissa.

Now that they have grown close, Myriam often invites her over after cheerleading practice.

"Hey Amy," she whispers in her ear one day while they are changing. "I have a surprise for after."

"What kind of surprise?" She replies nervously. Somehow the combination of "Myriam" and "surprise" does not appeal to her.

Myriam gives her a wicked smile, reaches for the back of her uniform top, and unzips it. She throws it carelessly over her bag.

"You'll see."

The brunette is off to speak to Clarisse about their routine. Amy has noticed that they now seem to be close again. Myriam had started giving the head cheerleader advices, instead of her usual aggressive opinion on how to proceed. Well, at times her advices are said with no tact whatsoever, but Clarisse's reaction is now softer than it once would be.

Amy sighs.

She would have to do something about that eventually.

She removes her uniform with swiftness. She does not want someone to see the marks on her stomach. Covering her body with a towel, she walks towards the showers. She lets the water run over her face and body with her eyes shut closed because she can't bear to look at herself. The water running on her skin is hot, inviting, and she is able to relax. She would soon be back into her horrifying reality but for a moment, in this comfortable haven, she can be herself again.

She stays like that for more time than she thought she would because, when she gets out, the other cheerleaders are gone. There is only Myriam left, laid down on a bench in the middle of two rows of lockers. She has music in her ears and her eyes are closed. One of her feet is swaying over the ground in a hypnotizing pendulum motion. She is softly humming the song playing on her I-pod.

Amy opens her locker and takes out her perfectly folded clothes.

"It took you some time," Myriam tells her and Amy hears her body shift.

She freezes. She knows the other teenager is looking in her direction. She turns on herself. Myriam is now in a sitting position, facing her.

"Could you look in the opposite direction while I change?" She asks, harshly.

Myriam seems taken aback by her hard tone.

"Okay…" She rolls her eyes exaggeratedly and does as told.

Without ever taking her towel off, she puts back her clothes. She is scared Myriam might take a peek at her. She doesn't want her to see her skin, to see her naked, to see what she did to herself, and to understands who she is. When it's over, she exhales deeply and sits down next to the other girl. Myriam is scowling.

"I'm ready to go." Amy tells her softly.

Myriam doesn't answer. Instead she takes out her cell phone and replies to a text message. Amy frowns when she realizes the content of the reply is entirely sexual. She does not understand why Myriam always finds a way to sneak in her depravity into every moment of her life.

"I said that I was ready to go," Amy insists.

Myriam glares at her, eyes so hard that it makes the actress gasp.

"I know. I heard you the first time." She takes her bag and walks towards the locker room's exit. Amy stays still. She is stunned by the brunette's sudden mood shift.

"Myriam, I don't understand what is going on. Did I do something wrong? Look at me when I speak to you." Myriam turns towards her, resting her back against the door.

"Patrick's parents are having a romantic evening and he invited me over." She crosses her arms over her chest and her chin lifts a bit sharply. "I think I'm going to go at his place."

Amy stands up and crosses the distance between them. Myriam flinches and takes a step back, opening the door as she does so.

"We were supposed to spend the evening together." She squeaks, trying not to sound too desperate. "You told me you had a surprise."

"Yeah, well, things have changed." Myriam replies coldly. Nothing like that has ever happened before. It's terrifying.

"That's it? Amy's frustration is flowing so energetically through her body that she could barely conceal it. "That is the only explanation I'm allowed to have?"

Myriam seems to hesitate. She takes a small step forward. She opens her mouth to speak then her eyes take an infuriating stoic expression that makes her absolutely unreadable.

Amy looks down. She grazes Myriam's fingers with the tip of her own. Seeing that the other girl isn't running away from her touch, she lets her fingers slide across caramel skin, around her wrist, and down to her hand again which she explores gently, afraid that a sudden movement might scare the fierce tiger off. When she looks back up, Myriam swallows hard. Dark eyes, defiant eyes, scrutinize Amy for what seem eternity.

"I need to hump something." Myriam jerks her hand backward and looks away.

"What?" Myriam gives a violent push to the door.

"I said I need to get laid."

And, just like that, she is gone.