Hateful Passion

A soft glow of morning sunlight shifted through the windows, highlighting a kneeling figure on one of the balconies. A teen, probably about the age of 16 knelt over a folder, a mirror, and a few leaflets of tracing paper. Her head bobbed up, glancing around the room. A pen was clasped in her hand, and she began to draw. First one page, and as she finished it, she placed it in the folder. She began again, and repeated her steps for a different drawing. This went on for and hour or so, the folder growing thicker.

As the sun rose father into he sky, her stomach gurguled and growled. The girl looked up. "Drat, it's almost noon." She started gathering up her things. She was afraid. Yes, it was true, she was a troublemaker, but she liked it here. She didn't want to leave this gorgeous place. So she was trying to keep away from the Mistress. Not that she knew who that was or anything.

A soft sigh reached her ears, and the girl looked down acrossed the ballroom floor. Her pericing blue eyes narrowwed in on the boy, invading her personal time. She muttered a soft curse and hurridly stuffed the rest of the pages into the folder, and the folder under a small section of rug that she had pulled up. She lay the small patch over and stood up, crossing over to the balcony edge.

Smirking, she looked down on him for a few moments more, before she moved towards the grand staircase. Descending downward, her figure was more easily veiwed. Long white blonde cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, ending just above her butt. Black shorts hugged her waist and hips, and a sliver of toned belly peeked through between her tank top and waistline.

She strode over to the boy, and reached for the cigeratte. "May I?" Without waiting she pulled it from his lips and raised it to hers, taking a long drag from it. "It's been awhile. Too long." She said as she breathed the dangerous smoke out.

She smiled as he pulled out another. The girl sat down next to him, looking at the pages carfully. "I'm surprised they haven't confisacted your packs yet. How long have you been here kid?" The white stemmed cigarette slid smoothly between her gloved fingers, just like her cans of paint. Her pale lips formmed a perfect "O" as she inhaled and exhaled.

"Hmm. Get used to it. Most of the people around here are preppy snobs, and spend most of their lifes in a school with uniforms." She rubbed the filter on the cig, enjoying life's little pleasures like today. "Just as long as the Mistress doesn't show up, today couldn't get any better." She smiled, normally, a first since her backstabbing friends got in huge trouble. This school was a great place, and she stood up. "What's your name kid?"