The Challenge

Chapter Twelve

"Nothing happened, Elsa."

"That's a load of crap and you know it," Elsa scoffs, sounding extra irritated this evening, so Emma rushes to dress herself and then leans heavily into the door to eavesdrop. "You know it's my job to catch every moment-"

"And you know what my contract states," Regina firmly demands, "I have given you plenty of moments throughout the years, you have me sliding naked out of a window after being with Robin, for crying out loud. Bathrooms are off limits for me now."

"And my job clearly states that if there is suspicious activity in the bathroom, I'm supposed to catch it," Elsa defends, agitated with Regina's snarky attitude.

"Nothing happened," Regina declares in a stern tone that leaves no room for argument but obviously Elsa isn't one to back down. "She had a very hard elimination and I simply checked on her. I know how mentally draining this can all be and she needed someone to look at her wounds."

"Oh cut the crap. I have been filming you for nine seasons, I know all your little noises by now." Emma's face scrunches in disgust and she actually flinches from the comment. "You two hooked up and you know I have to film you two sneaking out of the bathroom together."

"Absolutely not, I signed a contract stating that part of my life is to remain my privacy until I feel comfortable."

"Regina, I'm going to lose my job over this," Elsa pathetically whines and Emma wonders how many times these two have fought over scenes and how close they truly are to be having this kind of discussion?

"Oh stop being so melodramatic," Regina huffs. "If they honestly fire you over this, then I would have my father's lawyers sue the show and get you your job back," and as Regina speaks, her voice sounds like she is fading away.

Emma distinctly hears stomping and then the world on the other side of the door falls silent. She waits a few minutes and then cracks open the door to sneak a peek. The bedroom is empty, no signs of Regina, no Elsa ready to catch her in the act, and not one damn cameraman lingering. She sighs in relief and rushes to her bottom bunk.

She collapses on her stomach, curls her fingers through her blanket and passes out from exhaustion; not at all because her body is loose and relaxed for the first time in this house from a mind-blowing orgasm.

~~~~

She doesn't wake up until the next morning, alone in her bedroom once again. She can only imagine how late it is but when she makes her way downstairs, Graham is waiting for her with French Toast, bacon, and a full glass of orange juice.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he greets her, his smile brightening as she collapses into the seat beside him.

"Hi," she mumbles, stealing a fork and shoveling far too much food into her mouth.

He chuckles, slowly sipping his own juice. "How are you feeling?"

She nods slowly, rushing to finish chewing so she can speak. That's when Regina breezes into the kitchen in nothing but that skimpy black bathing suit. Emma tries, like really tries not to stare but her eyes swing toward the refrigerator where her secret hookup is creating mimosas. And dear god does she look hot, with her hair piled high in a sloppy bun and her cheeks and chest all flushed from the sun.

She swallows thickly and averts her eyes because there's a twitch between her thighs that is growing rather wet and forcing her to remember all those dirty moments from last night. "Umm, I feel better...my back is still sore and my muscles are a bit stiff but I'm feeling rested," she claims.