"Give me that," Lily demands, and the skinhead just grins at her evilly. Two minutes ago she was so turned on she could barely believe it, and the abrupt shock of being photographed is transmuting that lust to rage.

"Come get it," he taunts, holding the phone high above his head. He's much taller, she'll never reach it, and she won't make a fool out of herself by jumping for it.

Frustration boils over into anger. "Give it to me right now, cocksucker," she growls, stalking toward him.

"Yeah, there's an idea, baby," he says, stepping back and holding the damn phone higher. "You suck my cock and you can delete that picture. What's the matter, your little girlfriend got a big, mean husband somewhere?"

He has no idea who he's dealing with. There are very good reasons why no man should ever try to coerce Lily into anything sexual. Her eyes go dark with unrestrained fury, and she aims a savage scything kick at his knee. She's strong; she's lost none of the strength from her dancing days, it's only the inflexibility and instability of one lousy joint that keeps her off the stage.

His knee gives, and he falls, landing heavily on the other knee. That brings the phone—a fancy touchscreen model—into Lily's range, and she snatches it. Even on his knees and in pain, the skinhead doesn't know when he's beaten. "Hey, what the fuck! Give that back, bitch!" he bellows, trying to get to his feet.

"You want it, asshole? Here you go." With that, Lily smashes him in the face, an inelegant roundhouse punch, and the phone's touchscreen shatters against his cheek. He squeals like an injured rabbit, and Lily hits him again … and again.

His face is bleeding, there are bits of plastic scattered around, and Lily remembers before she hits him a fourth time that Nina ran off somewhere. Nina's more important than vengeance—but Lily keeps the blood-stained phone as she turns away to find her. She's not in the hallway, and Lily knows somehow that Nina has flat-out run away. At that moment, she wants to go back to the skinhead and ram the goddamn phone down his throat for interrupting them, but she has no time to waste if she wants to catch Nina.

She heads for the door, and sees Nina on the street, looking for a cab. "Nina!" Lily yells, hanging on to the door frame. She makes herself laugh and sound light-hearted, even though her heart's pounding with the fear that she'll lose Nina for good over this. "Where are you going?"

Nina turns with wide eyes and a lost expression. She's so delectably disheveled that even if there wasn't an angry skinhead in the club behind her, Lily would definitely follow her into a cab. "I … I need to get home."

"Wait up, you need your coat," Lily insists, and only when Nina nods agreement does she duck back inside to grab both of their coats. And then she's hurrying down the steps as fast as she dares in heels, catching up to Nina and throwing the coat around her shoulders. She grabs Nina's hand and tugs her to the curb, waving down a cabbie.

They both pile in, and Nina opens her mouth to give her home address. Lily gives hers instead, and Nina looks at her warily through the glaze of drugs and desire. "Lily, I shouldn't… Mom's already called me like ten times."

Instead of the flippant response she normally gives, Lily leans in close, her arm on the backrest behind Nina. Into her voice she puts all the warmth and hunger that dancing with Nina has called up in her. "Listen, Nina, if you don't want to do this, then just say so. Nothing about your mom, I don't care what Erica wants, I want to know what you want. And if you can look me in the eye and tell me you don't want to go home with me, I'll get out and send the cab on to your place. All right? But you have to say it to my face." Then she waits, composed and serious, fully intending to be true to her word—if Nina can actually get the words out. Lily's as certain of her own irresistibility as she is of the sun rising tomorrow morning.

Nina's breath is still quick, her pulse still leaping in her throat, and she glances away, then back. "I … I don't … Lily, I…" Her voice is breathy, and she closes her eyes in defeat, dropping her head back against Lily's arm. Her fraught expression makes her lovelier than ever; Nina is beautiful in her suffering.

"Shh," Lily murmurs, stroking her jaw softly. "It's all right, Nina. Let me take care of you. I know you don't want to go back home just yet." Nina snuggles into the curve of her shoulder, hiding her face, and Lily pets and soothes her. Fortunately the cabbie is professional enough not to remark on it.

Which reminds her, she has a phone to destroy. "Slide over a second, sweetheart," Lily murmurs, and takes the phone of the coat pocket Nina was leaning against.

"You got his phone?" Nina asks in astonishment. "How?"

The badly-cracked screen is something Lily won't explain, not to Nina. "I'm persuasive when I want to be," Lily replies, thinking the skinhead most likely won't try to press charges. That would mean admitting he got his ass handed to him by a girl half his weight, and besides, it's not like he knows who she is. A bit of fiddling lets her find the tiny data card where most people store their photos, and Lily removes it, snapping it in half. Then she rolls down the window and tosses the phone beneath the wheels of a passing truck.

"Hey, lady," the cabbie begins, and Lily cuts him off.

"It's not my phone. I just don't like random strangers trying to take upskirt photos of me. They deserve what they get." That gets a sympathetic chuckle. It's all true, just not precisely applicable to the current situation.

Nina's back on her own side of the seat, watching Lily warily as if she doesn't quite believe her version of events. Personally, Lily feels lucky that the guy didn't come after her. He might've caught up with her, and that would've caused a scene. She's wiped the floor with men much bigger and stronger than she is, but she needs the element of surprise to do it. They're always so startled that someone so petite and pretty can be so unrelentingly vicious in a fight.

The way the streetlights flicker through the cab as they move is having an effect on Nina. Her eyelids flutter and her features begin to relax as she slides deeper under the grip of the ecstasy. Lily watches her, and slowly starts walking her fingers across the space between them. She taps at Nina's thigh lightly, and the girl's dark brown eyes fix on hers. No expectation there, no demand, nothing but a passive receptivity. So Lily slides her hand between Nina's thighs, finding even her tights moist. Nina's eyes slip closed as she takes a shaky breath, her knees parting a little more. The cabbie's glancing in his mirror, and Lily smirks his way before devoting her full attention to Nina.

Lily works her fingers slowly, rubbing against Nina through her clothes, and her hips arch hungrily toward Lily's hand. The expression on her face is a preview of things to come, her dark brows drawn together by lust and uncertainty. The fabric's thin enough that Lily can feel her perfectly, and she knows exactly where to place each leisurely stroke. She slides just a little lower, pressing just a little deeper. Then Nina gasps, her eyes flying open, and she catches Lily's hand, pulling it away.

Nina looks over at her, and there's something complicated in her gaze now, somewhere between 'don't' and 'not now'. Lily just smiles as Nina laces their fingers together and holds her hand firmly on the seat of the cab. She looks away to hide how predatory her grin's becoming. With a little luck, by the end of the night she'll have everything she wants.