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Disclaimer: Beverly Hills Teens is not my property only my OC Areli “Rocksi” is. The series is owned by DIC/Cookie Jar and others involved. This is a mixture of sweet and sass, so a few little naughty words and some “intimate” situations may slip, causing you to blush a little. But I do promise you some laughs and some realness; life imitates art. Rated M

“So don't hold back
Just have a good time, yeah yeah
We'll make the rules up as we go along
And break them all if we're not havin' fun...”

-Janet Jackson

Chapter 27pt. 1-  Can I Lei You?  


”Darling...not so loud...”

Pierce Thorndyke III, his normally coiffed hair undoubtedly destroyed, clinging with sweat and oil   from a night of naked horseplay, held Larke Tanner's hips firmly as she rode his shaft like the mechanical bull at the Saddleranch restaurant.

”S-Sorry Pierce,” Larke replied softly and hoarsely, unable to hide at just how amazing the rich boy's cock felt inside her warm, wet walls. The shit was mesmerizing, damn near addictive. A bead of sweat that had pooled onto her Botoxed forehead dripped onto Pierce's chest,  their teenage, writhing bodies glistening with sweat, spray tans becoming a thing of the past.

”Ohhhhh,,,Larke..your tits are fucking perfect!” Pierce cried, when she rocked her pelvis in such a way that made him speak the truth. Clawing his chest, Larke nodded, her blonde hair sticking to the sides of her face. If she kept fucking him in this manner, he'd buy her any other procedure she wanted, whether she needed it or not.

Taking a glance at the mirror above his bed, he combed a few strands of hairs from his eyes. He would definitely be going to Fifi's for a shampoo, scalp treatment and deep condition.

Apparently, Larke was not the innocent flower that the Teen Clu had deemed her. Last night, she was tipsy, flirtatious...she had been the one to initiate their impromptu night of pleasure. It was Larke that  had kissed him first, it was Larke who had given the green light. It was Larke who ripped off his clothes and urged him to taste her on the kitchen island. It was she who insisted on “finishing up” in his bedroom. He had tried to sleep throughout the night after the first go round, but two more followed. Larke Tanner was insatiable, period.

He'd never wash his sheets again. Even though they were stick with sweat, perfume, and bodily juices, he wanted the memory of this tryst with Larke to last forever.

Looking down from her fleshy “perch” of sorts, Larke , a droplet of sweat trailing down her nose, smiled, noticing the surprised look on Pierce's face. Placing her hands on his impressive chest, she bounced, again making his eyes roll backward.

”Ohh..oh..Larke..oh shit, oh shit...!” Pierce wailed, still not believing the serendipitous situation. Leaning down, Larke captured his lips in a kiss, rolling them over so Pierce could be on top.

Pierce had been a better lay than Larke expected. Pinning her arms above her head, then opting to entwine their hands, Pierce drilled into Larke's soft, wet cavern, moaning from the tightness of its walls.  Larke's streaky,tanned skin became flushed with reddish pink, her hair, drenched, strands of gold and wheat draping his pillows.

”Ohhhhh...Larke...I've fantasized about this for so long,” Pierce whispered between their lips before Larke shoved her tongue between them, shutting him up once and for all. Loosening her hands from his, she wrapped her arms around Pierce's back, bucking her pelvis in tune to his thrusts.

”Just shut up and fuck me, Pierce!” she demanded through gritted, white teeth, while Pierce plundered into her soul, his grunts growing deep almost like an angry pit bull. This was the most cardio he had done in a very long time.

Revenge fucking was all it was, and Pierce was the perfect candidate. If she was going to get back at Troy, why  not fuck his frenemy, the guy that wanted to be just like him?  Troy was the opposite of Pierce...Pierce was vain, Troy was confident; Pierce was a slacker, Troy was an overachiever. Pierce got no girls; but Troy could have his pick. Pierce was a schemer; Troy was honest. However, considering the conversation they'd had before she'd spread her legs, Larke realized that Pierce was only perceived a certain way because he acted out for not fitting “the mold”.  However...Pierce was  undeniably a much better , more thoughtful lover; especially more giving when it came to oral pleasure. She had lost count of the hours Pierce had spent “below sea level.”

“Oh Pierce..yeah, right there..oooh,” Larke groaned when he hit a very spongy spot, causing tingles in her butt cheek. Chuckling, Pierce reclaimed their kiss, changing the tempo of his thrusts, going deeper, making her cry out that much louder. Hearing Larke's soft, delicate voice call his name and curse in the same breath was music to his ears.

So many of Larke's pictures from her Teen Scene magazine covers and pullout posters from Sports Illustrated, graced Pierce's bedroom walls. Even a painted portrait of Larke was hung along the corridor to his bedroom. Larke found his devotion creepy at first, but it confirmed that she could count on his loyalty and this definitely would not be the last time she'd fuck him. There would be no “relationship” and definitely not any love...Pierce Thorndyke III would be Larke's new bene-friend.

”Oh shit...Pierrrrcccccccceeee.....I'm gonnaaa...I'm gonnnaa....!” Before she knew it, Larke's head plopped backwards against Pierce's pillows, her body convulsing. Pierce, holding onto Larke tightly, was shaking as well, the scent of their bodies  mixed with sweat , cologne and alcohol, damn near choking Pierce. It hadn't been as fresh and as romantic as he'd hoped, but Larke Tanner was naked in his bed, clutching him, trembling like a leaf in an earthquake...for about the fourth time.

“Ooohhhh...ooohhhhh....whew...” Larke uttered, gasping for breath, while Pierce slid out from her, rolling over onto his side,trying to catch his own. Pierce's back was sore, and not to mention he had a wicked Charlie horse.

“Pierce...are you okay?” asked Larke, noticing that he was rubbing onto his back, several wlets from her nails decorating it. He would have to wear a shirt to the luau, poor dear.

”Yeah...yeah...I'm fine,” he answered feeling his head spin. “Wow...please excuse me, darling.” Getting up from his side of the bed, Pierce covered his crotch, limping toward his adjacent, luxurious bathroom. Her body tired and very sore, Larke stretched, hearing her joints pop.

'Oh dear, time to see the chiropractor,' she thought, reaching for the blanket that had been tossed toward the edge of the bed. Ever since her implants, Larke was having some issues with back and shoulder pain, her main reason for letting Troy, and now Pierce be on top. She could only do forward or reverse cowgirl for so long. She had planned to get her orgasm and leave immediately, but Pierce had been such a gracious host, and they had connected emotionally. His vulnerability had given her a foothold to manipulate him; get whatever she needed from him to make Troy jealous She couldn't let on too soon that Pierce would only be good enough to fuck her when she craved it. Pierce's new role in her life was simply as a  plaything in her life, or until she and Troy got back together.

She heard Pierce humming ' I Can't Feel My Face' by the Weeknd, and the sound of water running. He was probably washing his face with his Obagi cleanser and would moisturize right after. So high-maintenance he was in comparison to Troy, but Pierce was indeed very good looking. She wouldn't have dared downgraded. That would have been like Troy fucking Bianca, but hell would freeze over before that  ever happened.

'Ooohhhh,” Larke grimaced at the thought of Bianca and Troy in coitus. She wanted to vomit right then and there. Shivering from the AC, she pulled the duvet up to her neck, her nipple throbbing.

”Here I am, Larke darling, did you miss me?” asked Pierce as the bathroom door opened,  a sky blue robe covering his body, the scent of fresh cologne following. “It's still pretty early, did you want to get some sleep?”

”I'll sleep when I go back home,” Larke answered as Pierce took back his place on the bed beside her. Playing into the role, Larke laid her head against his chest.

”How about...we take a shower; then go downstairs and have breakfast?” she suggested, letting him comb through the matted stickiness of her hair. “We've got to get ready for the luau tonight.”

”Ooohhh...that's right, I've definitely got to get a massage in today before FiFi gets booked up,” said Pierce, rubbing his forehead. “And I have to pick up the limited edition Tommy Bahama shirts she ordered for me.”

“Let's not waste time then, Pierce?” Larke suggested before placing a kiss on his cheek, a hand sliding down the lapel of his robe. She wanted to get it in one more time just for security's sake. She already had Pierce eating from the palm of her hand; now she wanted him to eat from somewhere else.

'Oh shit,' thought Pierce, looking down at his package. It was gonna be one hell of a morning.


”Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite song...You go ahead, let your hair down...Sapphire and faded jeans...I hope you get your dreams...Just go ahead, let your hair down...”

'If only I could just have the massage without the damn sound effects,' thought Bianca, her head  pressed into a white pillow , her long, obsidian locks twisted into a tight, braided bun.

Fifi's massage rooms were known for being designed similar to Japanese massage parlors, but the l tatami floor, and wooden walls gave them an air of class, not kitsch.  Koi ponds with artificial waterfalls built in select corners of the rooms and large vases filled with bamboo were placed outside the front of the fusama doors aided in the relaxed ambiance. Bianca was partial to the lightscapes of flying cranes, and dragons that were projected onto linen shoji screens. Also, for an added touch, expensive, silk kimonos were given as gifts to each individual patron. No wonder massages were always hard to come by at Fifi's salon and spa. The atmosphere alone took one to another world; except for Rubea's singing. One could do without it.

Bianca, wearing a Cheshire grin, purred in contentment. She had managed to snatch the last massage available for the day and heard no  mention of Larke Tanner. Nude, covered only in a soft, white towel over her behind, she buried her face in the pillow, enjoying the deft hands of  Rubea as she pummeled into Bianca's back.

'Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite song...You go ahead, let your hair down...” Rubea sang, her Russian accent thicker than raspberry marmalade. Closing her eyes tightly, Bianca tried her best to will away the sound of the dying giraffe, focusing on Rubea's deft manipulation of her muscles and nerves.

”Ohhh Rubea, your hands are like Heaven,” Bianca mumbled, almost falling into a trance, her French-polished toes tingling.

”Sapphire and faded jeans...I hope you get your dreams...Just go ahead, let your hair down...
You're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow...Bianca, have your implants been giving you any problems?” asked the Russian masseuse, her auburn hair slicked back into a tight ponytail reaching below the collar of her white Fifi's Spa/Salon polo shirt.

”Why, no,” said Bianca shaking her head, her voice muffled. “My bubbies haven't given me any problems. Besides; my posture is perfect from doing Pilates.”

Rubea chuckled at Bianca's haughty tone of voice.”Well, I would like to schedule massages with you at least once a week because the bubbies are quite large and your frame is small in comparison, “ she explained.  “Poor Larke, her implants are huge; she has to go to a chiropractor for her back pain. But it's her own fault for not listening to me.”

”Larke? Back pain? What did you tell her?” Bianca asked with perked ears, lifting  er head from the pillow slightly.

 Rubea, placig her fingertips along either side of Bianca's spine, shook her had.” Tsk, tsk... she is so stubborn, that one. I told her, don't go too big, because they look even bigger after surgery ; swelling, fluid, you know. Of course, she went against what I suggested...and what the doctor suggested and demanded larger. She actually had two implants pressed together in each breast, that's why they look so round like oversized grapefruits.”

Bianca snorted as she chuckled, clapping a hand donning a 5 carat , Princess-cut emerald ring from H. Stern on her middle finger.

”She just refused to listen to me, Bianca. I told her to always wear the special stability bra they give you after surgery, to help you heal and all that jazz,' Rubea rambled, walking her fingers down to Biance lower back.  “And she needed to put cold compresses on them and massage her nipples so they will still have feeling. Or maybe even ask Troy to rub them for her ;he has such big hands.”

'Wilshire has big hands,' Bianca smirked , recounting the days she'd coerced her lowly, doting servant into massaging her newly implanted breasts daily. The way he accidentally flicked her nipples with his callused thumbs sent tingles through her spine, making her cheeks flush. In their current state of affairs, his tongue and lips would give her the same effect, but purposeful.

Feeling her cheeks growing warm, Bianca waved her face. Rubea, feeling the change in Bianca's body temperature, ceased massaging.

”Are you okay, Bianca?” asked Rubea, picking up the remote that controlled the temperature for the room, pressing the “cool” option. “I can't have you passing out before the luau.”
“Oh...I'm fine,” Bianca insisted, but thankful for the sudden burst of cool air. “I'm just surprised to hear that Larke was being insubordinate to good advice.” Sighing, Rubea set down the remote on the small, wooden table by the sink a few feet behind her.

”I don't know what gets into some of you rich, spoiled brats,” Rubea replied, pressing  her hands into Bianca's lower back. “You think you are so invincible. You ask adults questions, but you don't want to listen to adults when we try to tell you the right things.”

Bianca, her green eyes sparkling with mischief, grinned. “What didn't Miss Teen California do, Rubea?” she pressed, faking concern for the massage therapist's feelings.

”Oh my gosh...Larke went on a photoshoot three days after surgery, and while she was posing, she was in pain. Then...she made a wrong move and she tore the stitches in the underside of her breasts. She said the facial expressions in the stills were so bad, they couldn't use them. Well, the magazine had a deadline, and they couldn't use any of her pictures.”

”Larke Tanner, taking bad pictures?” Bianca answered, feigning sympathy, wanting to bite her tongue.. “That's impossible. She's the most photogenic girl in the entire Teen Club.”

”Oh, don't be fooled, my dear. Some of the images you see in current issues of Teen Scene are of Larke before her implants, but they used makeup to contour her cleavage and photoshop to make them look bigger, about the size they are now,”Rubea explained. “Do you notice that she's wearing outdated Moschino bathing suits?”

”But she could play those off as...vintage?” Bianca asked, trying her hand at playing Devil's Advocate for the sake of gaining information. Rubea shook her head.

”No...those are outdated; you can't give it a 'vintage' label,” Rubea explained. “When word about the shoot got to different photographers, they refused to shoot her until she'd properly healed. No one wants to get blood and pus on their expensive fabric. And with her implants being so big, she risks her skin on the sides becoming infected and torn.”

Bianca, wrinkling her nose in utter disgust, looked over her shoulder at Rubea. ”Larke was doing a photoshoot at the Teen Club not too long ago...right before the beach party...during the beach party,” Bianca muttered. “The photographer was on his knees shooting her from the bottom up rather than straight on.”

Rubea rolled her green eyes.”Don't be fooled, Bianca, Larke is paying that photographer. She may have told everyone it's a Teen Scene shoot, but in truth,  those shots are being funded by the convicts of Lompoc prison.” Bianca's upper body shot straight up, her mouth, falling to the floor. Incidentally, the towel cover her breasts had fallen, revealing her own set of enhanced twins.

”Lompoc prison?” asked Bianca, in a state of sincere shock. “Has she lost her mind?” Shrugging, Rubea turned her head, motioning with her hand for Bianca to please cover up and lay back down.

”Ooops..soory,” said the raven-hair goddess, wrapping the white towel around her nudity before laying back onto her stomach. “This news is quite surprising.”

”She will do anything to stay every man's fantasy, I guess,” Rubea reasoned, “or one day she's gonna marry an 85year old man and take all his money when he dies from her fucking his brains out on their wedding night. I don't understand it, really. She has the most arrogant attitude of any young girl that I have ever met, but puts on this facade that she innocent as the pure-falling snow.”

”Rubea, surely, you jest! Our sweet, innocent Larke would never tarnish her squeaky-clean image to salvage her modeling career?” Bianca asked with false concern, placing her hand over the base of throat like Tara Belle would. “Some of her fathers' former friends are serving at Lompoc.”

”Sssshhhh!” said Rubea, placing a finger over her lips. “No one knows about that, Bianca. I only told you because you can speak Russian.”  Bianca nodded, placing her hand over her keep from laughing hysterically.

”Larke is  strange. She is a straight-A student, but sadly, she is not the smartest when it comes to her health. She goes on the weirdest of diets and does cardio for hours at a time. Why can't she just work out like that ..uhh...that new girl...she looks Asian, but she's Black...”said Rubea, trying to remember. “Darn it, what is her name?”

”Oh, you must mean Rocksi?” asked Bianca with a genuine smile. “She's Chinese, Jamaican, and Black. She's Shanelle's cousin...and my biggest fan.”

“Not a bigger fan than Wilshire, I assume?” Rubea asked, placing her palms onto Bianca's back, adding slight pressure. “Because fans only like how you appear to them; friends actually want to look deeper. She doesn't seem the type to take people at face value.”

Bianca's thoughts went back to the first day she'd met Rocksi. Rocksi had been blunt, yet friendly and kind to Bianca. She was also not jumping on the 'Larke' bandwagon and seemingly had a mind of her own.

”I like her. She not only has great tatse in fashion being from New York, but she is also doing this luau with me and Troy.”  Bianca replied. “She is very pretty, and unlike Shanelle, she's a bit more direct and less diplomatic. For once, I don't feel as though I have to compete with another girl; I'm not threatened by her.”

Jerking her neck in response to Bianca's comment, Rubea wrinkled her brow. “Bianca Dupree'...have you lost your mind? You are Romanian and Italian, a very strong cauldron or superior beauty. Why would you feel the need to 'compete' with anyone?”

Sighing, Bianca rested her chin on her hand. “Because of Larke. Larke wins every damn thing...every pageant, every honor, every guy...”

”Does it hurt your feelings...Bianca, you know you can be honest and our conversations won't pass these wooden walls,” Rubea assured. Sighing, Bianca nodded.

”Anyways, how did you meet Rocksi? Has she come for a massage?” Bianca segued, while Rubea massaged her tiny waistline.

”Nay,” said Rubea shaking her head, kneading down into Bianca's lower back, where the tightest of her tension sat. “Shanelle brought her in one day to pick out a bathing suit for the luau. She had an accent that I just couldn't place and her eyes are very pretty.”

”Yeah,” Bianca nodded. “She's quite unique looking. I haven't had the chance to really go shopping or have lunch with her. She's more urban...edgier than the rest of us.”

”But she's not boring, I assume,” Rubea offered. “Bianca what physical activity have you been doing? You are really tight down here? ” she added, massaging the lumbar region of Bianca's back. Bianca squirmed, not prepared for Rubea to touch her where she was still a bit sore from riding Wilshire for hours on end.

”Tennis, I do Pilates, ride horses, and my butler and I have been doing partner workouts,” Bianca half-joked, knowing Rubea wouldn't catch on. “But remember I have done gymnastics which involves a lot of walkovers and backbends.”

”Well whenever you get done working out with your butler on days you are not seeing me, ask him if he would be so kind to stretch you out afterwards,” Rubea suggested. “You'll be less tense that way.”

Bianca bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Ok, Rubea, I'm sure he won't mind.”

“What the world?”

Jillian, Pierce's 10 year old sister tossed and turned in her huge, California-King bed the night before. Groggy, her ponytail messy, her face lined from the seams of her pillowcases, she checked her   Facebook updates, looking for empathy from random strangers. As she casually waltzed into the elaborate kitchen, hoping to find some pancake mix to make Belgian waffles, she came upon a sight that looked like a cross between a frat party and a murder scene.

”Mortimer is going to have a fit,” said Jillian, placing her small hand with an opal pinky finger ring  with a French polished manicure on her chest. What she thought was blood was instead pomegranate juice. The broken bowl could easily be replaced from Pier 1 and pomegranates were always at Trader Joes.

Walking closer, inspecting the island, Jillian gasped. ' That's not my PINK track suit on the floor? ' she thought, finding a pushup bra that was too big for her, and too gaudy for her mom, a purse that was not her favorite designer, stray blonde hairs that were almost platinum, and even more busted pomegranates, complete with fruit flies buzzing around. Jillian's violet eyes framed with thick, full lashes grew wide.

'OMG! Pierce had a chick here last night!' thought Jillian, changing the mode on her Iphone to “camera”, taking pictures of the scene like a homicide detective. Pierce would constantly pick on her for having already developed breasts at her young age as well as her many trips to the dermatologist. Jillian had suffered a lot of cyberbullying because of her brother's roguish ways with girls on the internet.

'This is for all the crap I've suffered because you're a manwhore, big brother,' Jillian mused, taking pictures of the fruit-filled evidenced, zooming in on the bra. 'Instead of protecting me; you've made my life a living hell...and I'm only 10!'

Switchboard had been very instrumental in exposing Pierce for his less than gentlemanly manner towards females. On the other hand, Pierce never brought home a girl for their parents to meet, or even give the the grand tour of their Bel-Air mansion, soemthing he took pride in. The only girls she'd seen in his roadster was Tara or Nikki and even Bianca once, but that was emergency situations, nothing romantic. Tara had slapped him, and Nikki poured soup over his head at the Spring Fling she'd heard. With that being said, who was the dumb girl, who'd left her clothes on the kitchen floor and obviously spent the night screaming his name. Jillian assumed he'd fallen asleep watching “House of Wax.”

'Oh revenge will be so sweet,' thought Jillian, scrolling through the pictures on her camera, smiling wickedly.

”That shower was quite...invigorating, my darling, and what are you hungry for?” Jillian heard her brother saying from  what sounded like was from the top of the stairs.

'Oh crap!” Jillian panicked, looking for a place to hide, spying the pantry. Quickly, on bare, sky-blue polished tiptoes, Jillian, dressed in a black PINK pajama top and matching capris, scurried into the pantry. Silently, she closed the door, peering through the built-in blinds.

”Pierce, right now, I can't think of anything tastier than you,” said Larke playfully, leading him down the stairs, wearing one of Pierce's slate grey, silk Versace pajama shirts, panties underneath, with her sneakers in one hand.

”If my legs didn't feel so wobbly, I'd carry you down these stairs...I'd offer the elevator, but you know...I don't think we'd ever get any breakfast that way,” he purred. Larke, giggling, looked over her shoulder.

'OMG!' Jillian screamed in her mind, her lips pressing tight together. 'My brother had sex with Larke Tanner?' OMG!'  Quickly, Jillian turned on her “ video” mode. Al least, she could get them on voice.

”You look so perfect, even in the morning. Pierce,” she said with a wink.   Larke's blonde hair was cleaned, damp fresh from the shower;  her face, well scrubbed and anti-aged with Obagi, looking young and glowing. Pierce, dressed in a white Polo shirt,  pale blue, Armani Exchange Jeans and white Sperrys,  stopped in the middle of the staircase, taking Larke by the hand, his smile beaming.

”What?” she answered, shyly, his smile making her feel a bit nervous. Then again, her body was still shivering from her orgasm from five minutes prior. Speechless, Pierce placed a kiss on her hand.

”Larke, darling, I think that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said,” Pierce replied, pulling Larke into his personal space, his cologne damn near choking her. Playing her role, Larke ,wrapping her arms around his neck, pressed her lips against Pierce's in a very convincing kiss.

'Ewwww...did she really just say my brother is tasty?' thought Jillian, cringing, holding the phone in the air hoping to record every disgusting word.

Larke was surprised at Pierce's insatiable sexual appetite. Even as they kissed, his hands were sliding up and down the length of her newly sore back, sending little tingles down to her buttcheeks. He'd  screwed her brains the shower, on the bathroom floor, and orally pleased her on the edge of his bed. Troy had never had that much stamina and always wanted to have sex in the “standard” positions. Pierce had maneuvered her body in ways she only thought were possible for Cirque de Soliel performers.

The rumbling of her stomach, caused him to snicker as he kissed her. Laughing softly, Larke opened her blue eyes, only to be greeted by Pierce's satisfied smile.

”So what are you really hungry for Larke? Our chef is on vacation and I suck at cooking,” Jillian heard her brother say when he and Larke  finally made it into the kitchen. Through the blinds, Jillian could positively identify Larke Tanner. No doubt about it.

”Hmm...maybe we could go to that diner that makes those crepes that I like?” said Larke, setting her sneakers onto the floor before unbuttoning the shirt Pierce let her borrow briefly. Pierce's eyes, diverted from Larke's pretty face to her heaving chest. Jillian's mouth fell open in disbelief as Larke Tanner became topless and shameless in the Thorndyke kitchen. Blushing, Pierce looked away as Larke bent down in front of him to retrieve her bra.

Jillian couldn't help but be slightly envious of Larke's perfect skin and even more perfect body. She could understand her brother's creepy obsession.

”L-Larke, should I...uh...turn my back to you while you get dressed?” he asked politely, rubbing the  back of his neck. Standing up straight, Larke shook her head, sliding her arms through her bra.

”Pierce, we fucked all last night and this've seen parts of me that can't be photographed ,” she joked. “At least  not publicly,” she alluded with a wink.

Jillian's violet eyes grew even wider as she held up her phone to get a good view of Larke and Pierce in such close proximity. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. It  just didn't feel real.

'My brother had sex with Larke Tanner...and she's half-naked in our kitchen?' thought Jillian, pressing the “zoom” button on her phone, getting a good clear view of Larke's face down to her boobs.

”I'm sorry for the mess I made...all the busted fruit and stuff,” Larke said, pointing to the pomegranates that had been destroyed from their tryst on the island. Chuckling, Pierce shrugged. Jillian, angling her camera as Larke pointed to the fruit, smirked.

”Serves, them right, they were in the way,” Pierce winked, watching Larke wiggle into her sweatpants. “Did you want me to drop you off at Fifi's Salon or at your house?”

'Real smooth, Ex-lax', thought Jillian, shaking her head at her brother's lack of diplomacy. Dropping off a girl to the hair salon after screwing her just seemed kinda rude.

”Ohhh...just drop me off at my house, “ Larke replied, picking up her hoodie from the floor, pomegranate juice stains on the front of it. “Oh dammit...oh well...”

”I' a Polo sweatshirt in my roadster, you can just throw that on, before we go in to eat,” Pierce offered, as Larke hurriedly slid the hoodie over her head without unzipping it first, sliding her feet into her sneakers.  Grabbing her purse, Larke unzipped it, checking her phone for messages.

Troy had not called, and there were no texts.

'Shit!' thought Larke, scratching the front of her head. 'Troy got over me, fast, didn't he?'

”Are you okay, Larke?” asked Pierce, noticing her demeanor as she checked her texts. Sliding her phone back into her purse, Larke stood on her tiptoes, giving Pierce a kiss on the cheek.

Jillian wanted to gag at the goofy smile on Pierce's face. Larke was either desperate or drunk to have slept with him of all people. He would act like even more of a proud, puffed up rooster than usual.

”Like you, everything's perfect, Pierce,” she reassured, with a misleading twinkle in her blue eyes. “Are we gonna clean up that rotten fruit from the floor, or is Mortimer gonna do it?”

'The heck? Larke you can't clean up your own mess?' asked Jillian in her thoughts, her face screwed. Larke was not as prim and proper as she portrayed herself to be.

'Geez, I need a new role model,' thought the snooping 10 year old as  she decreased the zoom, getting a full frame of Larke giving a delusional Pierce another kiss on the cheek.

”Oh, I'll just call Mortimer when we're in the car,” Pierce replied, with a Cheshire grin offering his arm.  “He won't mind.” Looping her arm through his muscular one, Larke and Pierce departed from the kitchen. Jillian, exhaling deeply, was in a state of disbelief as well as disgust. Not only did herbrother screw Troy Jefffies's, his supposed “friend's” girlfriend, he was going to ask the butler to clean up the mess he made? Really?

Hitting the “pause” icon, Jillian crouched down, sitting flat onto her butt. Her brother's vigilant efforts of winning over Larke Tanner had been annoying  but seemingly it had come to a gross fruition.  Many times his Teen Club peers and even a few online communities had told him to get over her, because she was meant to be with Troy, a guy he could only HOPE to emulate.

'Oh my dear brother...if only you knew of the hell I've endured because of you,' she thought, gazing at the paused video on her phone...


Vain Ch. 27 pt. 1
Uh oh....this whole Pierce/Larke thing coud go very well one end and very badly on the other...

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Disclaimer: Beverly Hills Teens is not my property only my OC Areli “Rocksi” is. The series is owned by DIC/Cookie Jar and others involved. This is a mixture of sweet and sass, so a few little naughty words and some “intimate” situations may slip, causing you to blush a little. But I do promise you some laughs and some realness; life imitates art. Rated M

“You think I'm pretty
Without any makeup on
You think I'm funny
When I tell the punchline wrong
I know you get me
So I let my walls come down, down...”
-Katy Perry

Chapter 26 pt. 3-  Morning Wood

The sound of  television static was far louder than she'd was Wilshire's incessant snoring. The lowly butler sounded like he was sawing logs.

'What the ?' thought Bianca, groggy, slowly lifting her head, her dark hair a tangled mass. 'Geez, he's loud.'  Her head throbbing, her throat dry,  visions from the night before flashed through her mind like a slideshow, but this time, she was not in her own, luxurious bed.

”Ouch,” Bianca groaned softly, her lower body freakishly sore, as she shifted, easing her arm from resting against Wilshire's heaving chest. The pullout sofa, despite being freakishly expensive, was not the most comfortable of bedding, but considering that Wilshire made for a cozy, warm “body pillow” for lack of a better term, it hadn't been so bad. In fact, Bianca couldn't have thought of a time when she had such a restful sleep.

During the night, she remembered waking up in spurts, mostly from the sound of the AC shutting on and off, which she wasn't used to, as well as the warm, vice-like grip of Wilshire's arm protectively wrapped around her waist. Though the arrangement was foreign; no 500 count thread sheets or chenille blankets, it had been peaceful, very relaxing.

'His body has changed so much,' she thought, pulling back a few loose tendrils from her lovely face, gazing at the sleeping, dirty-blonde bear, his mouth open, snoring like Rip Van Winkle. With curious, beautifully manicured fingers, the brunette bombshell traced along his newly-chiseled cheekbone, sliding down his jaw, landing on the curve of his bottom lip. Wilshire, known for saying things that were dreamy and whimsical, had been spewing obscenities as of late, standing his ground against her tyranny.  When he didn't speak, he'd give her an intense, demanding look, but would nod his head in agreement no matter how far-fetched her requests were.

”Mmmm...yes my pet,” Wilshire smirked, his eyes still closed, feeling her fingertips brushing against his bottom lip. Even in his most unconscious of sleep, he could manage to be agreeable and friendly. Bianca, smiling humbly, leaned into Wilshire's personal space, placing a kiss on his bottom lip. Wilshire, being a sly dog, arrested Bianca's lips, sliding his tongue in between them. The Italian-Romanian princess had no choice but to engage, not protesting when Wilshire's hand crept upward to her naked breast, the perky, pink pebble stiff from the snap of the AC. Stroking his thumb back and forth against it, Bianca moaned deeply, melting, from the simplest of his touches.

As much as he wanted to cry out, do backflips, and cry tears of joy, Wilshire held his will, continuing his passionate kiss, loving every moment that she had become putty in his hands. It had been perfect; this plan. She was dominant, his “boss” in the daylight, where she would humiliate him in front of their peers, where he would painstakingly schlepp her bags of shoes, and boxes of jewelry from one store to the next, fall down into mud puddles so her Louboutins would not get wet...but at night...Bianca was his “pet”, his sub, his bitch, obeying when he said “no”, but always crying “yes” when his tongue got a hold of her. He had successfully turned her into something that she feared...human.

“Ohhhh....Wilshire,” she moaned, her green eyes glossy, her breath heavy against his lips. Wanting to taste her more, Wilshire kissed the underside of her lip, her chin; his tongue creating a moist path down the shape of her throat, his hand caressing  the tight skin of her enhanced breasts. Not knowing where to touch, Bianca grabbed fistfuls of the blanket, her breath leaving in heavy gasps.

”Zeu..acest lucru este atat bun...” she babbled in Romanian, watching as his head descended under the blanket. Lowering down to her belly, finding a place to nibble on her hip, Wilshire could feel his nature rising, her feminine scent calling his name. Bianca hissed, completely taken over by the ministrations of Wilshire's hands, his lips, pure sorcery.

“Oooh Wilshire,” Bianca wailed, when his mouth moved very, very, close to what was wet and begging with need. Teasingly, Wilshire pressed his nose against her pelvic bone, tossing his head back and forth. Bianca giggled, embarrassed that she was ticklish in such a sensual place. The heady, sweet scent of her was tempestuous and intoxicating, but alas a deadly potion. Every time Wilshire took even the slightest taste of her against the tip of his tongue, he became weak, losing a bit of his reserve each time.

”Mmmmm...” Bianca cooed, her eyes closed, her mind focusing on the sensations of Wilshire's fingers as they traced against the softness of her inner thighs as his tongue simultaneously engulfed her labia, the tender flesh sensitive from the previous night's debauchery. Wilshire, savoring the opportunity, caressed Bianca's outer thighs, loving the sound of every moan and whimper, proof of her submission, her obedience. As his tongue flicked against her timid, swollen pearl, her body jerking first, then relaxing, her moans guttural, almost manly, Wilshire's shaft grew stiff, wanting to take her as viciously as the night before.

”Ohh....oh shit!” Bianca shrieked, surprised that the knot was becoming undone so quickly, her body shooting straight up from her relaxed position. Watching the blanket tented over Wilshire's bobbing head, she clutched onto the cushion, holding her stomach tight. It was going to be a strong one, a tidal wave of epic proportions. Closing her eyes even tighter than before, Bianca trembled, feeling the vibrations from her core to her perfectly pedicure toes, dotting her elation with a shrill cry, tears springing from her eyes.

”SHIT! WILSHIRRREEEEE!!!” she screamed out of pleasure and shock, the orgasm gripping her from the sides of her waist, trailing up to her brain, paralyzing her,  before silencing her. Wilshire continued his licking, the flow of ambrosia coating his lips and tongue. It had been a very short encounter, but satisfying nonetheless.

“Ooohhhh...uhhhh....” she gasped trying to retrieve  the breath that was lost. Wiping tears from under her eyes, Bianca hissed again. Feeling Wilshire “cleaning” up her mess, Bianca , gently placing her hands on his blanket covered head, sighed, slowly opening her eyes.


Upon his beckoning, Wilshire slowly climbed up the length of Bianca's naked, supple body his muscles pressing against her tingling flesh, his face suddenly appearing from the under the blanket. Bianca, her peridot eyes brightened by the flickering light of the TV, stared at him, her thumb tracing remains of her want from his lips. Wilshire gazed back with an expression rendered mysterious, almost hollow, as if emotion never existed. He'd done a great deed, pleasing her first thing in the morning, but he didn't have that same wistful look that she was used to.

”Yes, my pet?” he asked, his tone stern. Bianca, a bit nerved, held her stance, combing her fingers through his hair, stroking his scalp. Purring like a sweet kitten, Wilshire kissed her wrist, smug on the inside. Bianca's beautiful face that was usually arrogant, was now confused, maybe a bit disappointed. Placing her other hand against his face, Bianca urged him into a kiss, that was embarrassed and so shy, Wilshire had to take the lead by wrapping his arms around her, his tongue massaging against hers.

The green-eyed goblin queen was in a mash of mixed emotions. As Wilshire's tongue stroked against hers, as his fingers traced the smoothness of her skin, Bianca succumbed, her body relaxing ever more, Wilshire's muscular build molding in hers.

Wilshire wanted Bianca so madly, the shaft between his legs was throbbing to the point of pain, but he dared not give her the satisfaction...again. She'd interrupted his peace the night before, impolitely crashing on his Netflix and Chill time. He could never seem to have a moment away from the cantankerous bitch. He'd have to start fucking her in places where she'd feel uncomfortable...the bleachers, the Teen Club sauna...anywhere she'd feel they'd get caught and ultimately shamed.

Not that he'd ever be “ashamed” to get caught fucking Bianca Dupree especially if her glorious boobs were falling out of her dress, and her hair was a hot, dishelved mess...however she'd be mortified that she'd get caught having an affair with ...”the help”.

Feeling him growing hard, Bianca, thinking she was crafty, wrapped her legs around him, grinding her pelvis against his girth. Her ass was sore from his constant spanking the previous night, but she needed him inside of her. It had become an obsession, the things they did. She could barely get through him tutoring her in English until she was sitting on his lap, grabbing his hands, placing them on her boobs. She'd ask him into dressing rooms of her favorite boutiques to get his “opinion” when all she really wanted him to do was watch her undress and check the progress of her implants or how cute boyshorts looked against her “tennis butt”..

Fucking her, using sex as a method of control, had become his weapon. He was her first, and she'd never forget him...regret, possibly; but forget, never. Kissing her, mimicking consummation with his tongue, always planting seeds of desire in her mind, her heart... that was a different story.

”Wilshire?” Bianca asked, breathless and horny against his lips. Gasping for air, brushing a hair from her forehead, Wilshire nodded.

”Yes, my pet?” he asked, his voice in his normal, devoted tone. Clearing her throat, Bianca massaged his traps, impressed at how large they'd become.

”Was..was that all?” she asked, like a child that had been restricted from playtime. Wilshire, raising a brow, feigned confusion.

” you mean, Bianca?  Were you not satisfied? Did you not scream?” he asked playfully, showing noting but consternation. Bianca sighed, not quite sure how to express herself.

”I was splendid, but it was only...10 minutes, and usually you're down there for about two hours,” she explained softly. Chuckling, Wilshire dropped his face between her breasts, kissing the side of one of her very large boobs. Bianca whimpered, hoping her locked legs would entice him to go even further.

“My pet, after the 'beating' you took last night, I didn't want to tire you out. You are co-hosting the luau with Troy and Rocksi, after all. This is your chance to finally stand out over Larke, and be the social butterfly of the Teen Club,” Wilshire replied as if devising a nefarious plot, before taking Bianca's nipple into his mouth, releasing it with a loud pop.

”You really think so?” asked Bianca with a sly grin. Wilshire, nodding in confidence, lifted up from Bianca, pulling the blanket away. Standing up to his full height, Bianca gazed at him as he stretched, the muscles in his back flexing, his bare behind tighter than a football. Feeling the area between her legs getting moist, she crossed her legs, pulling the blanket over her breasts.

”So Bianca, what would you like for breakfast?” asked the lowly butler, turning so she could see his manhood in full effect. Blushing, Bianca closed her eyes momentarily.

”Eggs Benedict with Canadian bacon and an English muffin,” she replied, blushing.


“So what did you do last night, Nikki?” asked Blaze, as they walked on treadmills side by side at LA  Fitness. Nikki, wearing a camoflauge green sports bra and matching shorts, chuckled, her long ponytail swinging.

“I got into the weirdest chat last night, Blaze,” she answered, pressing the button to raise the incline, sweat flying from her toned midsection. “This guy...he goes by the name 'Hylandismyland'.Apparently, he's been watching me on Youtube for a while.”

”Like most people have been, why  is this guy so 'weird'?” asked Blaze dressed in a dark purple Nike Sports bra, with black Nike capri pants. “Your fans chat with you all the time, right?”

”Yeah...but this guy...I guess he has a crush on me or something. I mean it's one thing to tell me I'm pretty, but he was ...asking me emotional stuff. Like if I've ever been horseback riding on the beach, and watched the sunset. Some sneaky internet perv is not gonna ask that,” Nikki shrugged, wiping her forehead.

”Well, you know these guys on the web will say what they think a girl wants to hear,” Blaze replied logically. “Switchboard has a whole webcast busting these kinds of guys down to the white meat; I'm surprised she hasn't called in for her own Secret Service.”

”The word 'secret' does not belong in any sentence involving Switchboard,” said Nikki with a laugh. “But I don't think this guy's a cyberstalker. I mean, he sang me to sleep.”

Blaze's eyes widened. “Sang you to sleep? That's a new one. Maybe I was being too judgmental?” she shrugged. “Of course you'll have to Skype him and see what he's all about, make sure he's legit.”

”Oh yea, definitely, and if he turns out to be not so scary, perhaps I won't be dancing alone at Teen Club events anymore. Maybe I'll finally have that fairy tale romance I've always hoped for. I take that back; you have the fairytale romance we all hope for, Blaze,” said Nikki , looking over to her best friend with a wink.

”Yeah, about that...Albert's coming to L.A. For a photo shoot,” said Blaze scratching behind her ear.  “And, we're gonna talk about the possibility of me moving to Scotland after graduation.”

Startled, Nikki slammed her hand on the pause button. “ Scotland? What? When did this come about?” she asked, her jaw dropping. It was hard enough not seeing her best friend as often as she liked, but never seeing Blaze again was tragic.

”Blaze, did Prince Albert propose? What's going on?” she added, placing a hand over her beating heart. Shaking her head, Blaze continued walking, chuckling at her best friend's flair for the dramatics.

”No, Nikki, he didn't propose, but if our relationship keeps going well, one day I'll be the Queen of Scotland. We all knew this...”

”Yeah, and we all know that your family's business will be inherited to you, what are you gonna do, then?” Nikki barked, picking her bottle of Evian up from the cup holder. “You can't just give up Starmount like that.”

”Nikki, you think I don't know? You don't think my mind is overwhelmed?” Blaze cried, running her fingers through the blonde part of her hair, her bangs sweaty. “A Prince is in love with me! Not a guy from the Teen Club right here in the neighborhood, but a flippin' Prince?”

Taking a swig of water, Nikki listened as Blaze told her tale of “woe”, and how she was far too young to be handed a responsibility so grandiose. Rubbing the back of her neck, Nikki reflected on the night before , on Hylandismyland's random act of kindness. It was just something that an immature boy didn't think of doing, but maybe a young man who courted the idea of romance.



”Did you hear anything I just said?” asked Blaze, pausing her treadmill walk, the back of her legs burning after her and Nikki's leg workout prior. “Albert will be here very soon and I don't know what to tell him.”

”And I don't know what to tell you, because regardless, my answer is going to sound selfish, or maybe even jealous. I don't have anyone on the other side of the world pining for me. All I have is family wealth, a great body, and a hope that I can break into feature films and win an Oscar to match my bedroom,” Nikki answered with a shrug.  “When you leave, I lose my best friend. I'm not the wise one in the group, I'm the dramatic one.”

”Who IS the wise one?” asked Blaze defeatedly.


”Troy gives advice?” asked Blaze with a surprised look. Nikki nodded.

”When you do a deep dissection of the guys in the Teen Club, who's the most level-headed? Who's the most down to earth?” asked Nikki. “If Chester weren't so young, I would elect him, but I'm sure he has his own questions about life.”

”Chester would probably make me a gadget,” Blaze reckoned, taking her bottle of fruit-punch favored G2 from the cupholder. “And on the subject of gadgets, we need to go pick up our swimsuits for tonight.”

Nikki raised a brow. “How the hell did you segue 'gadgets' with bathing suits?”

”Girl,  don't even ask,” said Blaze with a wave of her hand.


Vain Ch. 26 pt. 3
Change is one of those very had things, no matter how much we try to stay in routine....

Beverly Hills Teen is owned by Cookie Jar Ent.

OC "Rocksi" is owned by me

Mature Content

or, enter your birth date.



Please enter a valid date format (mm-dd-yyyy)
Please confirm you have reviewed DeviantArt's Terms of Service below.
* We do not retain your date-of-birth information.
Disclaimer: Beverly Hills Teens is not my property only my OC Areli “Rocksi” is. The series is owned by DIC/Cookie Jar and others involved. This is a mixture of sweet and sass, so a few little naughty words and some “intimate” situations may slip, causing you to blush a little. But I do promise you some laughs and some realness; life imitates art. Rated M

“You think I'm pretty
Without any makeup on
You think I'm funny
When I tell the punchline wrong
I know you get me
So I let my walls come down, down...”
-Katy Perry

Chapter 26 pt. 2-  Morning Wood

”Ohhhh.. Pierce...yes, right there...ohhh....don't stop...please!”

Pierce, his tanned skin slick with sweat, his sheets drenched, his hair mussed, smiled, despite losing his breath as he stroked deep inside of Larke's womb, her nails scraping into his back.

Unable to answer with words, Pierce, dropping his head low into the curve of Larke's neck began nibbling at the tender flesh, her insides moist and tight, making his brain scream. With every thrust of his hips, he silently asked if this was a dream. Larke's piercing wails immediately snapped him into reality.

A silent cry made Larke's pale blue eyes snap open meeting their torrid refection in the mirror.  Being the vain young man that he was, Pierce Throndyke took the liberty of having
a very large mirror above his bed. The main objective was waking up to his first love, which ultimately himself; but tonight, Larke had given it a deeper meaning.

Pierce's ass seemed to flex as he rocked into her, the muscles in his back, were shredded, slanted scratched from her nails, adorning them. For a moment, Larke didn't recognize herself. Her blonde locks were a damp at the roots, tangled at the ends, her brow kept knitting in response to the oncoming soreness from the size of his cock being bigger than what she was used to. Pierce's tongue began laving her neck, his breath smelling of her essence and whatever she had drank prior. His bedroom smelled musky, a combo of their body heat, sex, and salty tears.

”Pierce...I'm gonna...ohhh....” Larke murmured, feeling that unidentifiable spot but feeling a very familiar sensation. The ribbon of pleasure that had built in her groin was quickly become undone. Understanding, Pierce ground his shaft to her clitoris was stimulated even further, feeling her walls sucking him tightly. Kissing her neck and top of her shoulder, the young lad quickened his strokes, hearing her hiss and moan.

”P..Pierce....Pierce!” Larke shried, her head suddenly jerking upward her body first going stiff, then shaking violently. Wanting to share in her satisfaction,  Pierce continued his thrusts until his spine began to tingle, clutching Larke possessively around her waste so they could vibrate together.

After moments of grunts there was silence followed with heavy breathing. Larke was lethargic, her inner thighs sore, her lotus throbbing. After kissing her on the cheek, Pierce pulled himself out of her, the condom heavy with his seed.

Slowly, and carefully sitting up against the pillows, Larke smirked, nodding her head to his predicament. “Been awhile?”

Chuckling, Pierce combed his fingers through his hair. Pressing his lips together, he took a long gaze at Larke. Part of him was still in disbelief that she was indeed naked in his bed and he'd just had sex with her for about four hours. The other part wanted to run outside and do naked backflips on his lawn.

“Yes, it has, “ he answered as if unsure, getting up from the bed, making headway to the bathroom to clean himself up. Staring, Larke's eyes raked his physique, wondering why she never saw Pierce as anything more than second to Troy.



”What...I do declare...”

Groggy, not wanting to wake up so soon, Tara could hear noises, but couldn't figure out where they were coming from. The light emanating from her Smart Tv reminded her she'd fallen asleep with Skype left on.

”Oh poo, I left my TV on again. Daddy's gonna have a fit about the electric bill,” she groaned, rubbing her violet eyes. Sitting up against her pillows, she took a blurry glance at the TV screen.

Blake was not on the other side, but she could see the couch, and an open suitcase on the bed. She reckoned the noises she kept hearing were from the shower. Yawning, turning to lay on her side, Tara wondered what kind of soap or shower gel Blake used, and if his hair shrunk when it got wet.

Yawning, the Southern sweetheart was exhausted, but it had been so worth it. Blake had the most confident, sexiest style she'd ever seen and he was completely, totally himself. His edges were rough, but had no means of trying to smooth them.

She hadn't dreamed of him as she slept. She dreamed a subconscious myriad of Teen Club activities, exam anxiety, losing her hair, and shoes. Covering her face with her hands, she didn't see Blake exiting the bathroom, wearing a  pair of Dolce and Gabanna boxers under a pair of  black cargo pants, toweling his curly hair dry. Upon seeing Tara with her hands on her face, he laughed.

”Top o' the mornin', there!” he said excitedly. “Did'ja sleep well, lass?”  Startled, Tara let out a curse, sitting up straight as a board. Seeing Blake, plopping down onto the couch on her big screen, made her heart beat quickly.

”Aye, you okay there, lovie?” he asked, his accent thicker than molasses on a sweet biscuit. “Didn't mean to rile you lest not in that way.”

”Goodness gracious, you almost gave me a lil ol' heart attack,” she fussed in her Southern drawl, her cheeks flushed. Blake in the morning was just as enticing as Blake at night. Shirtless, his tattoos brandished, Blake's damp curls and bright smile made the butterflies in Tara's belly go haywire. As he toweled off his hair, Tara watched as every muscle in his arms flexed, beads of water falling down to his abdomen.

”I went from heartbreaker to heart attacker... sounds like a good basis for a tune. I'll share that with my mates,”  he joked with a wink, setting the damp towel down onto the table in front of him, his hair tumbling to his shoulder blade. “Think it'll be a number one hit?”

”I...uh...I don't know,” Tara answered with a shrug, smiling nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. Blake, biting his lower lip was extremely pleased with what he saw. She'd look so beautiful the morning after a night of ferocious shaggin'.

”See how me hair behaves? It's all cool and relaxed right now,'cause I ran some Paul Mitchell Super Sculpt through it, but If I don't it goes's got a personality of its own, I tell ya,” Blake rambled, trying to ease into a conversation. It was so amazing, the way Tara looked ;her natural, scrubbed skin, her hair in two long braids. A fallen camisole strap gave him a peek of a toned shoulder, her nipples hard through the thin fabric.

”Do me a favor, Tara?”


”Untie your hair, Rapunzel. Let me see all of you,” he requested with a nod. Nodding, groggy, Tara began unbraiding one plait from the end, using her fingers to comb through. Blake smiled as the curls freed themselves, long, and luscious, so much for his hands to get caught up in. It was 10:38 in Montreal, putting him three hours ahead of Tara's time zone. He could tell by the manner in which Tara's eyes kept opening and closing, she was not a morning person.

Watching Tara run her fingers through her waterfall of chestnut curls, her breasts heaving as she breathed, made Blake immediately pick up the towel from the floor, placing it on his crotch. He'd had a very..”romantic” dream about Tara Belle Devere the night before. She was bathed in red and orange light, her skin smelled of ripe peaches. His kisses began at the back of her neck, down her spine, and on the dangerous curve of her buttcheek. Her skin was softer than rose petals and her nipples tasted like Amaretto.

When he awoke, his mouth was pressed firmly against his pillow...thank goodness he had a private suite.  Seeing Tara sleeping on the other side of his laptop screen, looking ever so angelic and sensual, made his skin grow hot, urging the need for a shower in hopes of calming his nerves. He'd hate for Tara to see the huge stogie that had developed in his pants.

”Well, my hair's completely out,” said Tara tossing her head from side to side, her boobs bouncing as she moved. “See how wild it is?”

”Your hair is so pretty, love...I'll be sure to grab it when I shag you,” Blake piped, not realizing what he said, he quickly clapped his hand over his mouth.

”You cad!” Tara wailed, looking down. realizing the expanse of her cleavage, shocked at his brazen words. “Well, I never,” she added, pulling her duvet up to her chest. Finding her tantrun cute, he laughed mockingly.

”Oh...come on now can't tell me that you don't ever have romantic thoughts like that,” Blake pressed, sitting back against the couch. “You can still be a lady and have randy thoughts. You just have to keep things to yourself, or with the person you're having randy thoughts about,” he added wagging his brows.  Tara huffed, stretching her arms above her head.

”It's far too early in the morning to debate this, Mr. Heartbreak,” said the Southern Belle, making herself comfortable on her pillow. Adding a shy smile, she couldn't help but stare at Blake, the mischievous gleam in his eyes, and the Cheshire grin that accompanied. His confidence and charm were remarkable. He had so much personality; moreso than the boys of the Teen Club.

”I'm not debatin' beauty, I'm keepin' it real...isn't that what Americans say?” asked Blake, angling his head, mimicking the way Tara's head was positioned. Tara, laughing in defeat, closed her eyes momntarily, then opened them again. Blake's smile was brighter than the ray of sunlight, breaking through the blinds in his hotel room.

“I take it you spend your Saturday mornin's sleepin' in, doll?” asked Blake, opting to lay his head against the armrest of the couch so Tara could get a better look at his sixpack. His morning tent had gone down a bit, so he could finally get comfy, resting the towel between his bent knees just in case.

”Well, I don't have to bake anything today or do any charity work, because my parents are out of town on business. I don't have to go work at Fifi's today, either. However, there is a luau tonight that I have to get ready for later,” Tara explained. “and in Beverly Hills, that's an all day preparation. Hair, nails, spa...”

“A luau? In Beverly Hills?” asked Blake with a quirked brow. “How is that possible?”

Tara laughed. “Anything is possible when you have money. We're having a luau at the Teen Club Beach and maybe the food will be served poolside. I don't quite know how the setup's gonna be. It would have been really nice if I had met you a week ago,” Tara replied, rubbing her eyes. “I would have invited you.”

”Oh, you say now?” asked Blake in surprise. “You would have liked my company? Even though you haven't known me for more than a few hours?”

Tara nodded. “ least you'd appreciate all the work I put into looking nice for it. I bought a new bikini, I'm gonna straighten my hair, wear a pretty sarong and some new wedges. And if you were here, I'd finally have someone to dance with. I never have anyone to dance with at any of our parties or formals. I try not to get sad about it, but I can't help but wonder.”

”Wonder what, dollface?” asked Blake curious as to why the look in her eyes went from bright to somber. “And who wouldn't want to dance with're gorgeous.”

Tara Belle shrugged, then sighed. “Sometimes I can't help but wonder why these guys don't like me. I'm kind, I'm pretty. I may not be a straight A student like a few of the other girls but I do well maintaining a 'B'. I don't play sports but I do like to exercise. Isn't that what all guys like? Aren't I perfect?”

“Obviously, there's somethin' wrong with the blokes in your 'Teen Club',” Blake began, scratching the back of his head.  “And you shouldn't feel like you're not good enough. Just because you are a part of a clique, doesn't mean you have to date within it. It's a microcosm that you're in, and I don't understand why you can't see further from it.”

”Because it's what I've known for as long I've been alive.  Boys who wear boat shoes and Tommy Hilfiger shirts, who drive expensive automobiles. Boys whose parents own pieces of corporations or who come from old money. Unfortunately, they only like girls who have hair the color of flaxen gold, and eyes the color of the ocean..the atypical California girl,”Tara answered. “The girl that I could never be.”

“Oh geez...who wants what's 'atypical'? Who even created that myth known as the perfect type of girl? American boys are so weird, I tell you. Maybe it's just different in Europe, I dunno,” Blake answered, pinching the bridge of his nose at the pure lunacy of it all. “We 'ave girls from so many different parts of the world; in art, in magazines...there's no such thing as an archetype.”

”Maybe, after I graduate, I'll go to Europe and try my luck,” she answered feeling a bit defeated. “I don't seem to have any here.”

Blake couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Were the men of the US that fuckin' shallow? Were they really so caught up in blonde hair and blue eyes so much that they ostracized any girl who looked different from that? Rubbish!

”Do you understand, Tara Belle, that if you don't broaden your horizons, you're always gonna dance alone? “ he added, sitting up straight. “You've got the funds to have the best social life money can buy, but you waste it on sparkly dresses just to dance by yourself. Only Billy Idol dances with himself...and Cyndi Lauper 'she bops', but that's a whole different story, but  what the hell?”

”Well, like I said, I wish I could have met you last week,  so we could enjoy it together,” Tara reiterated in her sweet Southern drawl. “It sure would have been nice to have someone's arm to hold onto; sneak off onto the beach for a tender kiss. Just like those 80's teen movies.”

“Would you like me to stand outside your bedroom window, holding up a boombox, lass?” Blake joked, referring to  a movie called 'Say Anything'. “Cuz you know I'll do it!”

Tara laughed, blushing. Looking up at her TV screen, she saw Blake, laughing as well, pulling the towel from between his legs, wrapping it around his hair turban style.

”Me mates pick on me, because I have longer hair than them,” he explained, tying a knot in back of the towel. “and then I like to wear me locks straight, so I blow it out and run a flat-iron through it. I'm like a chick about it...deep conditionin' once a week, getting' me ends trims...taming the frizz..”

”You're not a girl about friend Pierce is the same way but his hair isn't long like yours. His is thick, and it curls up when it gets wet...and he gets irate when someone accidentally splashes him or if he gets rained on,” she offered laughing. “He comes to Fifi's every week for his deep conditioning hair mask and gets a keratin straightening treatment once a month.”

”Oh my, I'm not that high maintenance...I'm just proud of what me mum gave me,” said Blake. “That guy sounds like a total prisspot. Probably can't get a girl because he spends so  much time in the damn mirror.”

”You just hit the nail on the head,” said Tara with wide, violet eyes. Blake laughed aloud, his phone ringing. Looking at the screen, he rolled his eyes.

”That's the band's manager, calling love, I gotta take this. If I don't see you before your luau, promise me you'll smile, have a good time, and stop worrying about dancing by yourself, eh?” he said. “Just imagine I'm there.”

Reaching for the TV remote, Tara huffed, pressing her lips together. “Okaaaaayyyyyyy”...she muttered, while Blake made the face of a putting child before chuckling, giving her a delicate wave. Goodbyes always sucked.

”Have a good day, Blake,” she replied sweetly, before shutting off her TV, plopping back hard against her pillow. The feeling of disappointment, having to make his handsome face disappear totally sucked. But on the bright side, he'd left his Skype screen on to watch her sleep which was very heartwarming.

“Oh my word, it's still early, “ she said , taking a glimpse at the clock. Closing her eyes, she lulled herself back to sleep, thinking of Blake, Blake's smile, Blake's stomach, and Blake's curly hair.


”Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!'

”Shhhhhhiiiiitttttttt!” Rocsi muttered, her face plastered in her pillow. Only one person had the balls to Skype her this early on Saturday morning, and the time zone difference was the allotted reason.

”Arrrggghhh!” she exaggerated, her body tired, sore from her workout two days prior. Feeling for her TV remote, she touched two buttons, her Skype screen appearing.

”Top o' the mornin' to you, rastamuffin  or do you prefer ni hao?” asked a persnickety, British tone. Rolling onto her side, Rocksi flipped Phineas the bird her French manicure perfect. Phineas, dressed in his dark blue work coveralls, chuckled.

”So chipper you are. You still ain't used to the West Coast time change, eh now? New York still has you under it's spell, I 'spose?” he offered, taking a sip of earl grey tea, a plate of scones to the left of him.

”Yeah..yeah... time change got me in some kind of permanent jet lag,” Rocksi grumbled, rubbing the sleep from her hazel eyes, her hair a wild mess.

”So, how was your date with the Aussie? Was he a dreamboat?” Phineas joked, pointing his cup toward his laptop screen. “Please tell me his accent is thicker than mine.”

”Oh hell yeah, his accent is thicker than a jar of Nutella,” she answered, matter-a-factly. “We went to have dinner at Planet Hollywood after we ran up and down the boulevard. Shit was fun. We listened to some cover  metal bands and shit, it was chill. I got some info out of him, though.”

“Info? Info or gossip?” asked Phineas, raising a brow. “You're not one for idle chatter.”

”Nai, never that, “Rocksi answered, scratching one side of her head. “I asked Gig what the deal was with the 'dynamic' of Teen Club dating,” Rocksi emphasized with flittering pointer fingers. “It's the same consensus all around. All these guys want blue-eyed blondes, they fight shamelessly over Larke and it's crazy to me.”

”What about that prep-boy chap you've been fancying? Has he also been drinking from the tow-headed koolaid?” asked Phineas, setting down his cup in exchange for a scone. Rocksi shrugged, picking up her buzzing phone from her nightstand.

”We've hung out a couple times, and he's always managed to sneak a kiss, but that could just be plain curiosity. We are speaking of white-bread rich kids who are brought up in a fish pond of fake,” she answered sarcastically. “Right now, I'm responding to a text from Troy. He's the typical all-American jock, big ol' Boy Scout, Straight -A, letterman jacket... Larke's male reflection,” she added, rolling her eyes. “He's nice, but he talks about nothing. Funny thing is, he's been sniffing up Bianca's ass,lately.”

”Bianca?” asked Phineas, not wanting to lead on that he'd already heard of the illustrious ice queen known as Bianca Dupree'. “Who is this...Bianca entity?”

”She's the dark haired vamp they all love to hate,” Rocksi explained warily, sending her reply message to Troy in regards to the night's luau. “She's pretty...she looks like a Kardashian, but better. Got the dark hair, has a really flat tummy, big, fake ol' titties, and a little heart shaped booty. I only notice because I've mostly seen her in bikinis...” Rocksi trailed off, not wanting to admit she'd seen Bianca half-naked, letting Wilshire, “the help” give her more than just the business. “She's supposedly Larke's mortal enemy. They are both after Troy. Sounds like a teenage soap opera if you ask me.”

”Considering where you are, that's probably the most interesting their lives get. There's nothing really gritty about that posh life. Everything's unblemished and shiny...dull and crispy if you ask me,” Phineas continued before taking a bit of scone. Rocksi, wrinkling her nose, caught site of the dark oil left on his cuticles.

”Eeeww...dude, how can you eat with oil on your nails? Doesn't it taste funny?” she asked, turning her head slightly gagging. Chuckling, nonplussed, Phin continued his snack.


Vain Ch. 26 pt. 2
Happy New Year! And the "Vain" saga continues. I had to bring in "Phineas" , :iconkenichi2point0: OC into the mix as he is the wildcard. There will be omethings in the next chapters that you may or may not agree with, but hey...that's why they call it "fan" fiction :)

And For This Year?

Journal Entry: Fri Jan 1, 2016, 7:53 PM

Hello my darlings....

The holiday season will be officially over when the clock strikes midnight. And when you sit back and think off all the shyt you endured the year before, what positive things did you get from it?  2015 was an odd number and I'm not into numerology, but odd numbered years are never good for me. It seemed that 2015 was the year of the fuckboy, thot, and side chick. Around me, in my town, relationships  were breaking up left and right, shyt was crazy. Facebook was calling out cheaters and Instagram supplied the cheatees. Social  media has seriously invaded the bedroom.

So what did I learn? I learned that I am really, really smart. And I'm really, really nice, and I'm really , really resilient. Whenever I was confronted with something uncomfortable, I didn't back down. I stopped that "holding my peace to avoid an argument bullcrap" .I didn't care who waled away, especially when they didn't have any designs on sticking around. Any anger or frustration I felt, I put into my makeup artistry , and I made two wigs a few days ago. I 'm in the middle of making one right now for my aunt. I channel the bad energy into good energy, and somehow it works. Negativity is a lie...just a big, Universal lie based n insecurity and self-serving propaganda.

I managed to catch up on fanfictions, reviewed books for my favorite author on Amazon ( she's an IR writer), and as far as the book I was painstakingly working on I'm just gonna start that ish over.. Instead of typing it straight, I bought a journal and a crap ton of pens and I'm gonna write what comes to mind.  I'm also writing down my dreams...some of them may eradicate the little gremlins that plague my soul on the nights I can't sleep.

I'm going to vow to enjoy my life this year, seeing that I was scraping off pieces to help everyone else. I need to really , really find those pieces so I can put myself back together.

Love y'all!!!

Mature Content

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Disclaimer: Beverly Hills Teens is not my property only my OC Areli “Rocksi” is. The series is owned by DIC/Cookie Jar and others involved. This is a mixture of sweet and sass, so a few little naughty words and some “intimate” situations may slip, causing you to blush a little. But I do promise you some laughs and some realness; life imitates art. Rated M

“ But it's a bad debt
Certain death
But I want what I want
And I gotta get it
When the fire dies
Darkened skies
Hot ash, dead match
Only smoke is left...”

Chapter 26 – Smoke and Mirrors

Yawning,  tired from filming another dance workout video, Nikki Darling, her auburn-chestnut hair loose,  freshly trimmed, hanging down to her lower back, shot a glance at the time on her MacBook. Still wearing her golden bangles, hoop earrings, and toe rings from Van Cleef and Arpels, she stretched her legs, her calves tight. Turkish bellydance was not as easy as outsiders perceived. When filming it, she had to be precise, timing her moves deliberately. Any wrong rib circle, or hip thrust could change the entire story the dance was conveying.

On dateless Friday nights, Nikki chose to perfect her crafts and share them with the rest of the world. Luckily for her, the previous owner of the mansion she lived in had a dance studio built into the basement, which was more than suitable for Nikki to rehearse, and record her videos without giving away too much of her privacy. As much as she loved being onstage, and craved the limelight, she didn't want internet weirdos to stake her parent's house. There was no need for a new generation of “Bling Ringers”.

Her friends told her that she needed to “calm down” because she had “too many interests”, and was too “aggressive” ( at least that's what Tara said, but how many dates did she have on a Friday night?) .  Nikki would often respond that a diamond never had too  many carats, so they all needed to shut up, and they were just jealous.  Undeniably, she had the best body of all the girls, due to hours of physical training, and the most flexible. Having these traits would have sparked any other boy's interest, but at the Teen Club, Nikki was unfortunately placed with the group of  unofficial “undateables”.

”Geez...I didn't know it was that dang late,” she said aloud, leaning back against her gold, satin pillows, the same color as an Oscar. Nikki, sitting up straight again, finally uploaded the last of  her videos to her website, called “Nikoftime”, an archive of  her acting auditions, photoshoots, exercise instruction, but most recently her cultural dance videos.

Chester had built her site with an additional chatroom, so her fans could correspond with her. With her laptop seated on a special cushioned lap desk, Nikki was relaxed, wearing a yellow Nike sports bra, black sweat pants, and a fresh French pedicure. Footcare was one of the things that Nikki just couldn't push to the side. She enjoyed wearing open-toed Brian Atwood stilettos too much not to. And, considering she was ALWAYS on her feet, having someone else rub on them and massage them tenderly, helped her to not focus on any possible, nerve wrecking audition fails.

”Hmm...2240 likes already, that's pretty good for a Friday night,” she said, scratching her hairline. “Maybe, someone will offer me a distribution deal...something...” Nikki dramatized, placing a hand over her heart. Her love of Hollywood was evident with walls  adorned with framed collages of her favorite actresses...Joan Crawford, Elizabeth Taylor, Vivien Leigh, Lana Turner, Rita Hayworth, Angelina Jolie, Dame Judi Dench, Gena Rowlands, and Taraji P. Henson. Her white, marble bookshelves  were chocked to rim with Shakespeare, sketchbooks, childhood fairy tales, mythology, fitness and nutrition publications, and guides on theories of acting. Nikki was by no means a one -trick pony. She held a barrage of interests, refusing to be pigeonholed. If her acting career didn't take off, she could always ask her father to help her open a fitness facility or even design a line of fitness clothing that didn't make the boobs look like blobs, and the butt not saggy.

”Hmm, let's see what some of the 2240 had to say...'thank you so much for this amazing video, I'm going to try routine first thing in the morning,' ” Nikki read aloud from a fan.

”You are quite welcome and thank you so much, stay tuned for more,” Nikki spoke, while the computer followed the voice command. “My fans are even nicer than Larke's,”

”Where do you get the music for your routines?” Nikki read from another adoring fan. “I get my music from Itunes but remix them on a DJ app on my computer, so they're totally legit.”

”I love the outfit, the color looks great on you,” she read aloud. “Thank you, so much!”

”I wish my stomach was like yours...try my ab attack video, and follow my cooking vlog, I promise you will see results,” Nikki answered, still in disbelief that so many people followed her.  “Wow, now I know how Switchboard feels; but I'm not gossiping.” Chuckling, she reached over to her nightstand, picking up a bottle of fruit punch flavored G2.

”Hmm, looks like I have some new subscribers,” Nikki noticed after taking a swig,seeing new names on her chat log asking to be added. Right clicking, Nikki added three new femme sounding names, hoping they weren't stalkers or spammers.

”Hmmm, not using your real pictures, eh? NO, that's not creepy at all,” she said sarcastically. “I thought  people had balls on the interwebs.” Shaking her head, Nikki scrolled down the list of comments, some marriage proposals, others beauty questions, until a very detailed one caught her eye

”That was a great video! You're very beautiful, and you have amazing posture. Are your eyes grey or violet like Elizabeth Taylor's?” Nikki cited. “Great posture? That's pretty unique.”

”Who is this strange person?” she asked, clicking on the chatbox to add a user named, 'Hylandismyland'. Hopefully it wasn't a deranged stalker.

”Thank you, my eyes are violet like Elizabeth Taylor's,” Nikki answered, leaning back against the pillows. 'Must be an old pervert if they know about Liz Taylor,' she thought silently. Chester was awesome for installing  “hands free” software for her laptop, but she had to be very careful about surrounding sounds and the things she said out loud. She was able to multitask and being an artist, she had no qualms in trying to prevent carpal tunnel syndrome.

”How long have you been dancing?” asked Hylandismyland.

”Since I was 4, I took ballet, technical jazz, gymnastics, and tap...just like every other little girl who wants to be a star,” she answered, combing her fingers through her long, chestnut hair.

”Is your life all about fitness, or do you have any actual fun” asked Keithan, on the other side of the laptop,  re-watching the video, while chatting with Nikki at the same time. Keithan had been viewing Nikki's channel for a long time even before finding out that she and Jett were friends. One day when Ian was looking through Jett's Instagram, he showed Jake, Blake and Keithan, pictures of Jett's rich girl friends. Keithan had recognized Nikki right away because he had been watching her fitness channel for months.

”I've been a fan of yours for some time...I started watching your workout channel on YouTube and I  enjoy your cooking channel as well,” Nikki read as Keithan typed. “I was looking for an at home weight workout and found you. You are so down to earth and hilarious.”

”Well thank you for being such a loyal fan,” Nikki replied with a bashful smile. Keithan, leaning back from the computer, cracked his knuckles, before resuming.

“As didcated to fitness as is evident, your whole life simpley cannot revolve around it,” Keithan said aloud as he typed. “What do you like to do for fun? You have so much personality, it must be shared with the world.”

”Hmm? Is this guy a fan or trying to audition to be my boyfriend?” Nikki mumbled with a wrinkled brow. “How do I even answer this?” Exhaling, Nikki thought for a moment.

Crossing her legs at the ankles, Nikki began to think, twirling strands of hair around her fingers. “Wow, what do I do for fun, no one's ever asked me that before. Let's see, I like ziplining, going to the theatre and the movies, swimming with dolphins at the beach, art museums, the arcade, paintball or laser tag. My best friend has a stable, so I'll go horseback riding.”

”Hmmm...interesting,” said Keithan with a nod. “ gonna have fun trying to pin this lass down. Have you ever gone horseback riding on a beach?” he asked, curiously. “Have you ever laid down on a blanket and watched a sunset? Have you ever seen the sun slide down into the horizon and the stars just appear out of nowhere?”

'Oh shit,' Nikki thought for a moment. 'Is this a poem or a question?' Nikki , primping her lip, racked her brain. “Hylandismyland” had an eloquence with words that she'd never encountered from someone who was not reading from a script. Then again, considering this was a chatbox, he could have been bullshitting.

”No, I have never...I don't consider those things, 'fun'...I'd consider those thing 'romantic'”, she answered honestly. “And those are activities I would like to share with someone.” Keithan, smiling slyly, combed his fingers through his dirty blonde, wavy hair that sat to his shoulders, his face, smooth, like a baby's bum. The 'churchboy' of Glasgow Smiley Face kept his appearance clean-cut, and was known to be a lover of classical music, medieval tales, poetry, and nature.

”Are you telling me that you have no one to share a sunset with, Missus?” he asked aloud with a triumphant smile. Sighing, Nikki answered, “I have no one.”

”Well, do you travel very often?” Keithan, the churchboy from Falkirk typed, pausing the video and zooming because Nikki was smiling in a moment of dancing. “Do you like the beauty of nature like mountains, and waterfalls? Do you ever just walk outside and smell the air around you? Do you ever close your eyes and hear the conversations in nature?”

”Dude do you ever ask one question at a time?” Nikki muttered low.'Whoa, this guy gets deep. I wonder if he's an old hippie? Maybe he's high?' she thought. 'I'd better be careful.'

“ fact I do travel. My family takes trips to Niagara Falls once a year, and I have an oil painting of a sunset I did when I stayed in Hawaii for a summer vacation,” she answered. “We have a private jet.”

'Excuse the hell outta me, Miss Private Jet,' thought Keithan. 'Too rich for my blood.' ”Have you ever seen a castle?” Keithan said aloud as he typed, imagining Nikki dressed as a medieval Princess and hee as a valiant Knight on bended knee at her service. “hSince you like to play dress up, have you imagined yourself a Princess being wooed by a brave knight?”

”Hmmm...let me guess you just watched 'Knight's Tale' with Heath Ledger, eh?” she asked, looking over at her DVD collection, seeing the jacket for said movie in alphabetical order. “It was nice to see a brunette princess, for once. The only time I was in a palace was at the Grand Ball in Scotland.”

Keithan's head snapped. “She's been to Scotland?” he whispered. “How in the heck did I miss that?” Getting up from the hotel's queen-sized bed, wearing a dark-blue t-shirt and plaid boxers, the churchboy paced, the carpet plush under his bare feet.

”How...what...she was that close? She was in my country?” he said to himself, his heart racing. “Are my prayers coming true? I mean, they have to be. She's Jetts friend, and Ian's my mate, that's  six degrees if I could ever measure. Man..get a grip, get a grip. Can't be too eager.”

”Where'd he go so fast?” asked Nikki, placing the G2 back on her nightstand, letting out a small belch. Luckily, Keithan was not on voice.

Hopping back onto his bed, Keithan resumed typing. “ The Grand Ball, you were there?”

”Yeah, my best friend Blaze, she and Albert, the Prince of Scotland are in a relationship. She was on a magazine cover, and Prince Albert flew here to Beverly Hills to meet her. He disguised himself as a stable boy. It was so cute, he pretended to be a commoner so Blaze wouldn't judge him for being a royal. She got pissed but soon got over it, and he invited us all to the Grand Ball. I had a wonderful time even though I danced with an old guard.”

Keithan chuckled. “I hear those Scots are very charismatic, but some can be quite the playboys.”

”Prince Albert is absolutely perfect. He's tall, handsome and humble. They are both very humble people and crazy in love,” Nikki answered, throwing up her hands. “For once, the good girl won out. At least the blonde ones do.”

”Hm, the blonde ones? What does that mean?” asked Keithan, picking up on the sadness trailing through her statement. “You saying only blonde girls get good guys? You... seem like a good girl...” Simultaneously, he googled 'Grand Ball Prince Albert' finding a front page news article, a photograph of Prince Albert and Blaze Summers, describe her as the 'charming cowgirl' dancing very close, looking into each other's eyes.

”I am a good girl, and I get friend zoned by just about every guy here in Beverly Hills,”  she muttered, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I mean, it sucks. Just because I don't have blonde hair and my background is different, I'm not ...'in style' I guess.”

“What, in style? What are you a pair of shoes?”  asked Keithan with a knitted brow. “Such rubbish; makes no sense at all.” Closing out of YouTube, Keithan pulled up Nikki's Facebook profile. “Let's see what we have here, Miss Nikki my darling.” Whistling low, shaking his head, Keithan's brow wandered far into his forehead.

”Son of a gun...”, he breathed, scrolling through her timelime, gazing at her wearing different period costumes, loving the ones that featured her in a corset. There were also pictures of her in the gym wearing colorful sports bras and spandex capris, her skin sweaty. Best of all, the images of her wearing beautiful, fitted evening  gowns in shades or gold, saffron, and yellow with her hair upswept or hanging free in soft curls, were breathtaking. Immediately, he sent a friend request. It was the only way he could “like” her pictures.

“She's bloody perfect,” he declared, hitting the 'Like' button shamelessly. Nikki's chestnut hair, violet eyes, and unique skin tone were delicious on their own...her dangerously toned body was simply icing on the cake. The way she looked in jeans, a bathing suit, workout clothes... Even in her audition videos, where she was dressed in a white tank top and a pair of dark Levis, her hair tied back in a ponytail, she was nothing of a plain jane.

Keithan clicked on a photo album called 'My Darling Art' , which showcased photos of Nikki's art projects, pottery, and even some blown glass vases. There were also pictures of playbills from “The Glass Mengerie”, “Bye Bye Birdie”, “Pirates of Penzance”, and “Rock of Ages.”

”Oh wow...she's rather cultured,” he reckoned. “and she truthfully has no partner.”

”Where'd you go, dude?” she asked, watching the letters appear in the chatbox. “I'm not boring you am I?”

”I'm just sayin', who gives a damn if your hair is blonde or not? You're a spitfire! I find you quite fetching,” Keithan typed, smiling, excitement filling his chest. “And you have so many talents.”

”Aww, you're so sweet, thank you, Hylandismyland,” said a sleepy smiling Nikki as she slid many gold bangles from her wrist, setting them on her nightstand. She wasn't used to receiving many compliments on her beauty, Those were always designed for Larke.

”Aw doll, I'm only telling you the truth. You are gorgeous, without a doubt, just a vision,” Keithan typed, pressing his lips together, hoping he wasn't sounding overly creepy.

”You're too kind, and as much as I would love for you to continue with your compliments, I have to get some sleep,” she said, picking up her laptop from the middle of her bed, her blanket warm from where it sat. “I have to bid you goodnight, soon.”

”Okay. Lass...but, may I impose on you for just one mere second?” he typed, switching from 'type' to 'voice'. Nikki, stopping in mid-step as she made her way to her vanity, raised a well-arched brow.

”And just what is this mere second imposition?” she asked, jokingly. Keithan grinned, loving the raspy tone of her voice. She could make glaciers melt.

”Let me ...sing to you for a bit. Let me sing you to sleep?” he offered confidently. “I can sing really well.”

”Oh, can you now, Mr. Hylandismyland?” Nikki sneered, not believing, setting down her laptop on her vanity. “I tell you what, give me a few minutes to tuck myself in, and I'll tell you to start. Cool?”

”In the words of Cary Elwes, 'As you wish', “ he quoted from 'The Princess Bride,' making Nikki stop in her tracks.

”That' of my favorite movies, did you know that?” she asked, turning back her covers, sliding her tired body underneath them. “Always wanted a guy to say 'As you wish'”.

”You know, that's not far-fetched; just a matter of findin' a lad that'll comply,” Keithan explained. “Guys nowadays..seems like they want a girl who doesn't talk or doesn't have her own brain. Sounds pretty boring if you ask me.”

”Maybe so, but that's the popular consensus,” said Nikki, giggling softly, snuggling against several pillows, her body exhausted, and her eyes, half-lidded, wanting to close completely. “This is how I've been spending my Friday nights, lately. My best friends talks to her Prince on Skype all night, and all my other friends, I'm not so sure what they do. Thank goodness for hobbies, I suppose.”

Rolling onto her back, she clapped her hands, turning off the lights, a nightlight glowing by the legs of her nightstand. ”Okay, Hyland, I'm in bed,” she announced, laying comfortably on her side. “You can sing my lullabye now!”

”Brace yourself, lovely,” said Keithan, the tone of his voice making Nikki's eyes grow wide. 'OMG!' she thought, clapping her hand over her mouth. His voice was warm like syrup on a stack of strawberry pancakes and his accent was just oh so cute.

'His voice is so sexy, but he could still be a sicko,' she thought, waiting anxiously, trying not to giggle like a silly schoolgirl. Keithan on the other side of the laptop, took a deep exhale. Singing in front of a crowd while playing the keytar was one thing, but crooning for a beautiful girl he had a crush on was completely different.

Keithan cleared his throat. “ Isn't she lovely? Isn't she wonderful...Isn't she precious? Less than one minute old...I never thought through love...We'd be making one as lovely as she...But isn't she lovely made from love?”

Nikki, rendered awestruck, looked over at her laptop, wondering what the face of the voice looked like. 'I hope he's not some gross, disgusting loser,' she thought, raising up on one elbow.

” You have such an amazing voice,” said Nikki, fanning her face to avoid a slew of tears. No one had ever done anything so personal and so thoughtful for her.

”Aye, you think so, lass?” Keithan joked, playfully biting his tongue. “Think I could make records? Think I could be a big star?”  Keeping his true identity a secret would be his ace in the hole for now. He imagined Nikki, tucked tightly under her covers, resting on her side, a huge grin on her face. She seemed like a sentimental girl; she wasn't always an actress.

”I mean, if that's your dream, go for it. I could set you up with my agent when you're ready,” Nikki offered.  “You sing beautifully. You'd melt a lot of hearts.”

Keithan blushed, his cheeks turning beet red. “I'm, uh...glad you liked it. I hope I can sing you to sleep more often. Maybe we can chat a few times a week, and when you feel comfortable, we can even talk on Skype, lass?” he offered. “It's only fair, I mean, I  already know what you look like.”

Nikki shifted uncomfortably. “Eh, well, I'm ….that's  gonna take some time,” Nikki answered awkwardly. She still wasn't certain if Hylandismyland was an old pervert or not. “Nothing personal.”

”I understand, just know this, in my group of friends, I'm the weirdo too. So you and I have more in common than you know.”

”What constitutes you as the weirdo?” asked Nikki wanting to compare notes and figure out what his age range was.

”What can I say? I like to find the meaning in things, so many elements look good and sound fantastical, almost surreal, but there's no epicenter...absolutely nothin',” he explained, his accent growing thicker due to being tired himself. “People can be so superficial, take so much for granted, y'know. Especially us younger ones. We have so much to be thankful, and we just pass it by.”

'Younger ones? Okay, he isn't an old perv, after all,' thought Nikki in relief, settling back down on her pillow. “I try to live everyday like it's the last. I try not to look to deep into things that don't work out. Which is why I'd rather make videos doing the things that I enjoy instead of being bored on a Friday night.”

Keithan chuckled. “Dollface, you're not weird, you're a rare jewel. You just ..have to be appraised by the right guy, that's all. A guy who can look into those beautiful violet peepers and see his soul inside of them. Look at your smile and feel his heart become alive. Tell me, do you believe in chivalry? Do you think it's dead?”

”It's only dead here in Beverly Hills, but I'm sure it exists...elsewhere,” she answered, with a yawn in her voice. “Please excuse me for yawning,” she added, snuggling comfortably on her side.

”No, it's okay, I should let you get some sleep. I bet you are really, really pretty when you're sleeping,” he cooed, tracing the keys of his laptop.

”Nah...I snore,” she answered honestly, and I sleep really wild. Sometimes I sleep with my head  at the foot of the bed, or I'll sleep on the chaise lounge by my bay window, or on the couch by my fireplace.” Nikki, stretching her arms over her head, closed her eyes.

”Has anyone ever...stroked your hair until you fell asleep?” asked Keithan, feeling emboldened, as he set his laptop on the nightstand, turning back the covers to get into bed himself. Removing his shirt, throwing it across the room, Keithan, boasting a beautiful tattoo of praying hands over his heart, possessed an extremely impressive, muscular upper body.

”” Nikki replied, her eyes still closed, imagining what Hylandismyland looked like. Maybe he was tall and dark like Pierce, or blonde and easygoing like Radley. Or  maybe even nothing like the prototypes that the Teen Club had to offer which would  “No one's one touches me...” Maybe he was beautiful and strong, the chivalrous knight that she'd been asking for.

”G'night Nikki,” said Keithan, logging off when he heard her snoring.


Lyrics: "Isn't She Lovely" by Stevie Wonder

Vain Ch. 26 pt. 1
I wanted to give Nikki Darling ( a note to Prince's "Darling Nikki" song)  some accolades. I thought she had a very interesting character design, and a really cool voice. She also knew how to throw shade, and was the "drama queen" so why not make her a social media superstar?

Beverly Hills Teens owned by Cookie Jar, Ent.

OC "Rocksi" is owned by me


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United States
Follow me on Twitter: @MissJayna

According to my okaa-san, I started drawing at the age of 18 months. She still has my first piece of artwork in the family album in our old house. i used to draw comics based on my favorite Saturday morning cartoons like "Jem" and"Ghostbusters" and basically just drew all the time. I also designed fashion when I was a teenager. I started writing fanfics in 2002 for other fandoms and am happily writing fanfics on deviant art :)

What are you're favorite makeup brands?
- In no particular order: IT Cosmetics, MAC, Kat Von D, Urban Decay and NYX.

Favorite haircare brands?
-TIGI BedHead, Big Sexy Hair, Nexxus, Paul Mitchell, Kinky Curly, Design Essentials and Redken

Favorite Skin Care line?
-This is dependent on the client's skin care needs and I use products prescribed by my Dermatologist

How do you plan your commissions?
I have to really analyze and judge just how important the scene will be visually. I m also inspired by music, culture and colors. There is always some type of symbolism in all of the pieces I commission.

Are your OC's based on you?
-Actually, my Oc's are based on women that I wish I WAS when I was there age(s). I wish I had the confidence they had...not to mention their wealth.

Are you gonna model anytime soon?

Will you compete in bodybuilding/figure again?
-Probably! It's a little tough to get a workout in nowadays, but i haven't abandoned the weights, trust me. In fact I go mall walking early in the morning with the senior citizens

How many piercings are in your navel?

-Living in the country, mosquitos, fleas, roaches, racist people who try to fake it, people who are rude for no reason, people who walk slow in front of me when i have to pee, acne, acne scars, people who dont wipe off their sweat on the gym equipment, and people with no sense of humor.


My momma, my cats, my Kindle Fire, my fanfics, my devart friends, my earring collections, my hair when it's red, plums, sakura blossoms, waterproof black liquid eyeliner, Kat Von D, makeup, and bright colors.

Current Residence: North Carolina
deviantWEAR sizing preference: small
Print preference: smallest
Favourite genre of music: All types
Favourite photographer: Too many to name
Favourite style of art: Renaissance, Comic, Semi-Realism, Manga, Makeup artistry
Operating System: Windows 7
MP3 player of choice: Ipod
Shell of choice: Cheetah print!
Skin of choice: Smooth, not hairy
Favourite cartoon/anime character: Jem!!!!! Thundercats! Kouga!
Personal Quote: what now? kthankxbye!

And For This Year?

Journal Entry: Fri Jan 1, 2016, 7:53 PM

Hello my darlings....

The holiday season will be officially over when the clock strikes midnight. And when you sit back and think off all the shyt you endured the year before, what positive things did you get from it?  2015 was an odd number and I'm not into numerology, but odd numbered years are never good for me. It seemed that 2015 was the year of the fuckboy, thot, and side chick. Around me, in my town, relationships  were breaking up left and right, shyt was crazy. Facebook was calling out cheaters and Instagram supplied the cheatees. Social  media has seriously invaded the bedroom.

So what did I learn? I learned that I am really, really smart. And I'm really, really nice, and I'm really , really resilient. Whenever I was confronted with something uncomfortable, I didn't back down. I stopped that "holding my peace to avoid an argument bullcrap" .I didn't care who waled away, especially when they didn't have any designs on sticking around. Any anger or frustration I felt, I put into my makeup artistry , and I made two wigs a few days ago. I 'm in the middle of making one right now for my aunt. I channel the bad energy into good energy, and somehow it works. Negativity is a lie...just a big, Universal lie based n insecurity and self-serving propaganda.

I managed to catch up on fanfictions, reviewed books for my favorite author on Amazon ( she's an IR writer), and as far as the book I was painstakingly working on I'm just gonna start that ish over.. Instead of typing it straight, I bought a journal and a crap ton of pens and I'm gonna write what comes to mind.  I'm also writing down my dreams...some of them may eradicate the little gremlins that plague my soul on the nights I can't sleep.

I'm going to vow to enjoy my life this year, seeing that I was scraping off pieces to help everyone else. I need to really , really find those pieces so I can put myself back together.

Love y'all!!!


Hey Beautiful Whats upp and how was your easter
Tue Apr 22, 2014, 7:21 PM
You are truly one extraordinary woman with a great heart. Take care :love:
Fri Apr 18, 2014, 10:42 AM
thank you! but all the artwork is commissions! i just write!
Thu Apr 17, 2014, 6:06 PM
You are very beautiful and so are your work!!
Thu Apr 17, 2014, 12:27 AM
You are very beautiful and so are your work!
Thu Apr 17, 2014, 12:25 AM
Thanks for the Watch!! Check me out here too! :)
Fri Aug 9, 2013, 2:44 PM
Sun May 12, 2013, 9:08 PM
Thank you :)
Mon Apr 1, 2013, 7:03 PM
Beautuful and cool too? Happy Birthday Ma!!!!!
Mon Apr 1, 2013, 1:59 PM
Hey Ma! Whats up!!!!
Sun Jan 6, 2013, 10:33 PM


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Add a Comment:
ErikArtFan72 Featured By Owner Dec 24, 2015
Hi. Merry Christmas & Happy New Year.:)
TeddyBlackBear2040 Featured By Owner Aug 11, 2015  Student Digital Artist
Hey I have A facebook page anytime you want to talk online or you call me let me know.
Niqua10023 Featured By Owner Apr 1, 2015  Professional Digital Artist
Wow! It must be cool to be born on April fools day. O_O' My fav. holiday. I actually like. 
Anyway, love your work and Happy B-day and hope it goes awesome of, course. :love::hug:
missmjwilson Featured By Owner Apr 1, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
<3 Thank you!!! It' was a great day today!
Niqua10023 Featured By Owner Apr 4, 2015  Professional Digital Artist
No biggie. And that's good. ^_^ :hug:
vegiboy3000 Featured By Owner Apr 1, 2015
Happy Birthday! Hope you had a wonderfully awesome day! :)
missmjwilson Featured By Owner Apr 1, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you :) 
vegiboy3000 Featured By Owner Apr 1, 2015
You're welcome :)
MisaMisaCupcake Featured By Owner Apr 1, 2015
Happiest of Birthdays to you, my dear! May MANY MANY more come to you! :party:
missmjwilson Featured By Owner Apr 1, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you!!!!
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