Molly has issues with her self esteem. Her no good husband isn't helping. When Rick takes her to a roller derby for her birthday she's smitten. Femme Fatale lives up to her name, a bad ass on the rink and off. During an autograph session, Femme thinks Molly is pretty fierce and invites her to join the team. Femme's huge, hot husband Mark, the team owner, agrees. Turns out all a girl's ego needs is a hot tryst. Or two. READER BEWARE: F/F/M, EXPLICIT SEX AND LANGUAGE, BDSM
“She is smoking hot,” Rick said elbowing me. He pointed to a tall, statuesque brunette
with fishnets and hot-pink skates
I shook my head. I did not understand the fashion atrocity that was roller derby. On the
other hand, the girls were enticing. Like sirens to sailors, I saw the appeal of ripped
fishnets and big black belts with rivets, crazy hair and fingerless leather gloves. I saw all of that flying by me while women threw elbows and knees, knocked each other down and high-fived teammates. I saw all of that and I saw freedom. But I also saw beauty-most
specifically in the girl that Rick seemed so smitten with.
“What’s her name?” I breathed.
“Femme Fatale,” he said, rolling his booklet into a tube and then letting it unroll. “They don’t give real names. She’s a looker, though, don’t you think? Almost as hot as my
Molly.” He patted my leg and I took his hand. He was lying and we both knew it, but I
could play along. But my eyes were on the blurred dark vision of long, pale limbs and
cherry red lipstick.
Femme Fatale.
