DISCLAIMER: Suburban Shootout and its characters are the property of Feelgood Fiction, Five and Paramount Comedy. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Girls with Guns
Hilary remained in the Ladies' loo of the dingy club after Camilla and Lillian had left with the money, to ensure that her hair had sufficient volume and to reapply her lipstick. After all, there were countless young boys out on the dancefloor as high as kites on industrial strength oestrogen. As she was replacing the cap of her lipstick, it slipped out of her hand and fell to the floor. Hilary rolled her eyes at her reflection.
"Damn," she drawled in her usual bored tones.
She stooped to pick up the offending object. Just as she was about to stand back up, she felt cold steel press against the back of her skull. She froze, her hands on the edge of the sink, unable to reach her own weapon.
"You're no better than a low-life drug dealer. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't use your brain matter to stencil these walls."
Hilary smirked, unseen to her assailant.
"Pam, darling, I thought better of you. Grey matter on beige walls? Co-ordination nightmare."
Tutting, Hilary swivelled, remaining crouched. Pam shifted back a step, her gun still trained on Hilary's head. Hilary looked up through her eyelashes.
"Now, sweetie, put that away. We both know you're not going to shoot me."
Pam cocked an eyebrow, adjusting her grip on the pistol slightly.
"Oh? And just how do we both know that?"
Hilary tipped her head to the side and smiled.
"Because you don't do that sort of thing on your side of the fence, do you? You're far too good for that."
Pam's resolute expression faltered for a second and Hilary took the opening. She reached out and traced a finger down Pam's wrist.
"But you'd like to be bad, wouldn't you? You'd love to be able to use that big gun of yours whenever you wanted, without having to wait for Babs' say-so."
Hilary's hand continued down, over Pam's fingers and onto the barrel of her gun, encircling it, lightly caressing the length of it.
"You love the rush. You love the power. It puts a fire in your belly, doesn't it Pam, having this pressed against your hip? Big. Long. Hard."
Pam watched Hilary's movements, her breath shortening into quick gasps. In a swift movement, Hilary popped the clip out of the gun. It fell to the floor with a clatter. Hilary smiled.
"Oh dear it appears I've emasculated you, darling."
Before Pam could respond, Hilary's mouth was around the end of the gun, red against black, sliding up and down and up and down. The wet metal glistened in the fluorescent lighting. Pam watched, fascinated as Hilary's tongue traced the length of the barrel, swirling around the tip before taking it into her mouth again.
Pam whimpered, her knees feeling quite weak all of a sudden. Fortuitous that Hilary should choose that moment to stand up and press her back against the wall, claiming her mouth with her own. The gun slipped out of her hand as she pulled at Hilary's blouse, determined to feel skin.
Hilary's hand had made it up Pam's skirt and into her knickers in record time. She wrenched her mouth away from the feverish kiss.
"Well, well, Pammikins, aren't we just dripping with anticipation? Not getting much from that hubby of yours these days?"
It wasn't ladylike. It wasn't dignified. But there was only one thing that Pam could think to say.
Hilary grinned lazily.
She pulled Pam forward into another bruising kiss. Neither of them noticed when the door to the bathroom slammed open, only pulling apart when the entrant spoke.
"For fuck's sake, Hils, have you been sampling the merchandise?" Camilla enquired, lounging against the doorframe with an amused Lillian by her side.
"Thought I'd see what all the fuss was about. Can't say I feel any different though."
Pam, meanwhile, had straightened out her twin-set and had picked up her gun. When she reached out to grab the clip, the toe of Hilary's stiletto stopped her.
"I think we'll keep hold of that, darling."
Pam was about to protest, but the click of Lillian's automatic rifle stopped her. She stood up and walked out with as much dignity as she could muster.
Camilla turned a disapproving eye on Hilary, who was reapplying her lipstick. Again.
"Really, Hils. Sleeping with the enemy?"
"If you must know, it was a recruitment drive."
Camilla looked mildly interested.
"You think she'd defect?"
"Given the right incentive, she'd switch sides in a minute."
Lillian was sceptical.
"And you have the right incentive inside your knickers, do you?"
Hilary recapped the lipstick and popped it into her handbag. She moved over to Lillian, running a manicured nail over her jawbone.
"Now, don't be jealous."
Lillian scoffed, but Camilla was warming to the idea.
"If we had both Joyce and Pam, Babs would be finished. She'd be left with dear Margaret, who's about as much use as a chocolate teapot. We'd finally have Little Stempington to ourselves."
She turned to Hilary.
"OK, anything you can do to encourage Pam to come around to our way of thinking, you do it."
Then she turned on her heel, barking for Lillian tot follow her. Hilary followed them out of the bathroom and spotted Pam leaning against the bar, looking ever so slightly flustered.
"Oh, I think I may have a couple of ideas," she said to herself.
She headed to the bar.
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