The Dressing Room - Margot and Scarlett

"Oh, it's great stuff," Margot said. "White make-up, for your body - it gives you that unnatural Harley pallor. It's really good, though - give it a few minutes to dry after you've applied it, and it won't rub off on clothes or anything. Believe me," she affected an exasperated voice, "I've had a lot of time to find out."

Scarlett took the lid off, and gave the mixture a little sniff - it was lightly perfumed, a smell she didn't expect from any studio make-up."

"You serious? You really want me to wear this stuff, Margot?"

Margot shrugged playfully.

"Hey, you said you'd be my Harley Quinn if you lost the bet, Scarlett - this is all part and parcel of the transformation."

Scarlett gave it a moment's thought, and gave Margot a playful shove on the shoulder, her tits bouncing ever so slightly as she did.

"Fine," she said, a smile creeping onto her face. She scooped a little bit of the make-up out of the container with her finger, and rubbed it in a circle around her stomach. She was a little slow with the gesture, as if she was teasing Margot - from the smile in the corner of her mouth and furtive glances to her companion, Margot guessed that was her intention.

She tried not to let out a little squeal of excitement - fuck, this was turning her on so much.

Margot could feel the wetness growing between her legs as she watched Scarlett apply the make-up, and she struggled to remain there in silence and watch this incredible display in front of her. She wanted to break, to throw herself at Scarlett, lose herself in her friend - but she didn't, not yet.

She contained herself - fuck knows how she managed - as Scarlett rubbed her hands all over her body, slowly turning it clown-white. She just watched, a goofy smile on her face, as Scarlett massaged her arms, her breasts, her stomach, her legs, and worked her way up to her perfect pussy...

"Do you wanna do my back, Margot?" Scarlett asked, noticing her friend's expression. There was a hint of amusement in her voice. "You can reach better than me."

What could Margot say? That she wanted nothing more than to rub her hands all over Scarlett's body, feeling every inch of her friend as she'd wanted to do in the years and years that they'd known each other?

A meek 'yes' didn't do it justice, but it was about all Margot could manage in the circumstances. She took the pot of cream, scooped some out on her fingers, and carefully touched Scarlett's back. It was electric - sure, they'd touched before in a number of innocent ways, but this was something else. This was Margot, her hands trembling as she began stroking Scarlett's naked body. Her brain kind of went onto autopilot as she focused on the warmth emanating from Scarlett's perfect body, and applied the make-up to Scarlett's back.

"Can you do my ass too, while you're there?" Scarlett asked.

Did Margot whimper? She definitely thought she whimpered at that question. How could you not?

Somehow, she managed to agree, and she brought her hands to Scarlett's ass, massaging the make-up in. That's what she thought she was doing, at least - the moment she got her hands on those cheeks, all she could think about was that incredible feeling of her flesh on Scarlett's. She rubbed the make-up in, all the while thinking about how she'd like to drop to her knees, put her face in Scarlett's perfect ass and eat it out. Fuck, imagine that, Margot tasting her delicious ass as Scarlett groaned in pleasure, that act of submission to her friend leading to... well, she could only dream of it. And dream of it, she often did.

Eventually, the job was done, and Scarlett's body was white. Margot had explained that the make-up needed a few minutes to dry properly, before they could do anything else, so Scarlett decided to pace about the room. Margot, when she was finally able to tear her eyes away from the naked woman in front of her, slipped away briefly to wash her hands.

But she was back soon enough, staring at Scarlett and remembering the feel of her friend's ass in her hands for the first time. That was an experience she'd dreamed about - one she'd always hoped for - and the day was still young.

Maybe there would be many more of those experiences to come.

Hopefully.

"What now, Margot?" Scarlett asked with enthusiasm. Margot was daydreaming about what had just happened, and Scarlett clicked her fingers to bring her back to the room. "Earth to Margot! You're not leaving me here, naked and white - what are we doing now?"

Margot blinked twice, and went a little red. No, a lot red. She could see a cheeky glint in Scarlett's eyes - Margot knew, just knew, that her friend knew what she was thinking about, and she'd have blushed even more if it was possible.

She had to distract attention away, and so she grabbed the next piece of Harley-wear from the table.

"Tattoos," she said, "Harley is covered in tattoos. So that means you're going to have some too."

She handed Scarlett a sheet of false tattoos, and instructions on where to apply them. This was another part of the Harley makeover process, the branding of woman into a clown, and Scarlett got to share it just as Margot had many times before.

Some of the tattoos, Scarlett could do herself. She covered her legs in hearts and diamonds and handwritten odes to 'Puddin', Harley's pet name for the Joker. Just above her belly button, she applied a 'lucky you' tattoo. She branded her left shoulder with a 'daddy's lil' monster', and her right arm with a forearm 'J' and a wrist sleeve of red and black diamonds.

She couldn't affix a 'property of Joker' tattoo to her back, so she needed Margot's help for that one. And she'd probably have managed the heart and the word 'rotten' on her right cheek, but she let her friend do it for her too. Margot was clearly loving it, and Scarlett could feel that she was getting a little into it herself.

How could it not, having a beautiful woman stroking your body like Margot was? Even when she was applying pressure to stick the fake tattoos on, she was somehow gentle - it was incredible. She knew that Margot was savouring every moment of this - in part as a friend, in part as someone who wanted something more. And if she didn't, the way Margot was acting now would have told her everything.

Yes, Scarlett knew how Margot felt - she'd known for a while now - and it was something she often thought about. She'd heard whispers that Margot was into girls since she burst onto the scene ten years or so ago, and once they'd started these casual meet-ups, it quickly became apparent that those rumours were completely accurate.

Margot was careful at first, but Scarlett soon picked up on those flirtatious undercurrents to her remarks. She could see that her friend was gauging if there was any romantic interest there, and Scarlett flirted back, just enough to avoid being clear on her intentions. Maybe that was why she always made those jokes about getting Margot undressed, putting her in one of those Black Widow suits - she knew how much her friend would love it, and a sneaky glance or two at the Australian's body would be a definite benefit.

She always played it like a tease, but she had another motive - she genuinely valued Margot as a friend, and she worried about what would happen if love got in the way.

She loved Margot, but she didn't know if she was in love with her, and that was a big difference.

All those thoughts were flashing through her mind as Margot finished applying the last of the tattoos, furthering the transformation.

And then, the body cream dried, and Scarlett's sexy frame looking Harley-white save for those false tattoos, it was time for her to get dressed.

Margot passed her friend some of her Harley Quinn underwear - a bra and some pants that were barely there, both coloured in shades of black and red. This bra was actually the one that Margot flashed in the original film, in a scene where Harley was going to get dressed in the airport - somehow, it made her smile to think of Scarlett wearing the same underwear that so many had seen, but just for her.

Had Scarlett watched Suicide Squad, thinking of Margot, like the Australian actress thought about her? She certainly hoped so.

They were built similarly, but somehow those pants just seemed a little tighter on Scarlett, the bra a little smaller, emphasising her beautiful butt and breasts all the more. Maybe it's because they were - maybe it was just Margot's wishful thinking.

A slightly torn pair of fishnets came next, with Scarlett smirking as she slid then up her faux-tattooed legs. Margot noticed the smirk, and replied with a little grin herself - she was glad that Scarlett was enjoying this. It wouldn't have been anywhere near as fun if the Marvel star wasn't enjoying it.

Margot passed the next item of clothing to Scarlett, who couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

"Your famous hotpants, right?"

Margot blushed a little: "But it's your ass that'll be in them today."

Scarlett flashed her a wry smile in response, and took the blue and red sequined hotpants from her friend. She stepped into them and pulled them up her legs, only then becoming truly aware of how little they actually covered - she could feel her buttcheeks poking out of skimpy bottoms. Margot gave her a studded belt to put on, and Scarlett thought somewhat sarcastically that it was barely bigger than the hotpants.

After that, the famous T-shirt - it was red and white, boasting a 'Daddy's Lil Monster' message on its front and rips and tears from Harley's adventures with the Suicide Squad. Scarlett remembered reading an interview where Margot said the shirt was too clingy when it got wet - well, she thought, it was really going for it even when it was dry.

She covered it with a half-blue, half-red jacket, which hung loosely from her well-proportioned frame. Before she put it on, she noticed the message on the back of the jacket - 'Property of Joker', emphasising just how much of a sway the clown had over this poor woman in the film. But not today, Scarlett - today, she was in control.

Harley had some spiky bangles for her wrists and a glove for her left hand, so Scarlett put those on. Then, she just had two more things to put on, and she was set.

She sat down on one of Margot's stools, next to which the Australian had placed Harley's shoes. Scarlett remembered those vividly enough - Adidas shoes, black and white and boasting a killer heel. She'd had countless debates with Marvel execs about needing shoes that were flat and practical as possible - she had no idea how Margot had managed to stay upright in these boots all day, let alone filming action sequences. She put them on - they were surprisingly comfortable.

Margot sat down, facing her, with the final piece of the outfit in hand. It was a gold choker, boasting a formidable buckle and the word 'Puddin' on the front.

"You want me to put it on?" she asked.

Scarlett smiled: "Go right ahead."

Margot reached around Scarlett's neck, her fingers lingering just a little to stroke that soft skin, before she buckled and straightened the choker.

"There you go," Margot said, her voice trying to creep higher with excitement, "you're almost all mine."

"Dangerous thing to say to a criminal, right?" Scarlett smirked. "How do you know I won't make you mine?"

A wave ran through Margot - Scarlett saw clearly the effect of her words there.

Margot wanted to say something, anything, but the words just weren't there. She needed to keep her mind on the job, just for the moment - she needed to keep her mind anywhere else, or she'd lose it and throw herself at her friend, and what would happen then?

The outfit was almost all ready - it was just a spot of hair and make-up to go.

Scarlett could have done it herself, but Margot insisted on taking over, so her friend wouldn't see the end result until everything was ready. She was very excited by the prospect of sitting in front of her friend and putting on the finishing touches - she wanted to hold Scarlett's face in her hands, and make her look even more stunning than she usually was.

There wasn't too much make-up to do - ideally, Margot would have painted her friend's nails, but she was going to an event later, and it might have been pushing it a bit. But that didn't mean that she couldn't do Scarlett's face, and she certainly looked forward to that.

She was focused on the job, and she didn't tell Scarlett what she was doing. The Marvel star didn't need much information - she was familiar with the outfit, and she knew what the make-up look would entail. Margot applied shadow to her eyes - blue on the left, red on the right - and some liberal mascara. She also painted Scarlett's lips a vivid red, a deliberate counterpoint to the white of her painted skin.

The hair was easy. Again, the event meant that Margot couldn't colour Scarlett's hair, but she could still effectively shape the look. She pulled her friend's hair into two high pigtails, with the exception of a few strands hanging down at the front, framing the Marvel star's face. It was, in many ways, a fairly simple look, but it looked devastating when the right woman wore it. Margot had rocked it, and now it was Scarlett's turn to look incredible.

And then, they were there.

Margot couldn't quite believe it, but the transformation was through. Scarlett had kept up her side of the bet, and she'd become the woman Margot was hoping for - she'd become her own Harley Quinn.

She moved away from her friend, a smile on her face, and offered Scarlett a little nod. She knew what that meant - now was the moment of truth.

She stood up and turned, eyes closed, to the giant mirror next to her.

Scarlett looked at herself in the mirror, and was astounded by what she saw. Or rather, who she saw. Margot had done an amazing job, dressing her up, making her into Harley Quinn. There was no hint of Scarlett left, not that she could see - she was Harley Quinn.

She smirked at herself, and was surprised at how sexy she found the reflection smirking back. There was something about the raw, untamed woman that she liked - she knew why Margot loved this character. Sure, she was no stranger to dangerous sexuality - that was how Black Widow operated - but this was something else.

Scarlett turned to Margot, and affected her best impression of Harley's voice: "What d'ya think? Am I hot, or am I hot?"

Margot struggled to contain herself: "Fuck me, you are hot as fuck."

"Well, you betta get a picture, right?"

She stretched out the word 'right' with a mock Brooklyn accent, that was so close to Margot's own, and then flashed her friend a cheeky grin. She'd clearly watched the films a lot - there was no way that she'd have remembered the mannerisms so well otherwise.

Margot wasn't even thinking about that, though - at the moment, she was barely able to think at all, and was just about able to snap a few photos on her phone as Scarlett pulled a number of poses. Each one seemed to be sexier than the last, like Scarlett was playing with her. But then, Scarlett wasn't usually like this.

The DC actress knew what it was about all too well. When you became Harley Quinn, the normal rules went out of the window - you took on a new, unrestrained sexual energy that made everything you did so much hotter. Everywhere you went, Harley would turn heads, and she'd make cocks stiff.

And, in Margot's case, increase the wetness between her legs. She was feeling so turned on by all of this - it must have been so obvious. Scarlett must have been able to see it. Yet she was still playing with her - that had to be a sign, didn't it?

Margot pocketed her phone, and found that Scarlett was now right in front of her. Their faces were almost touching - Margot and Scarlett, her own personal Harley Quinn. They looked at each other, and Margot could feel her friend's steady but increasing breath on her face.

"Anything else you want me to do?" she asked.

Margot didn't ask for permission - somehow, it all felt so right. Placing her lips on Scarlett's, meeting her for a tender kiss that seemed to last a lifetime and a moment at the same time. God, she'd been needing this for so long, and it just felt right.

This was a moment she'd dreamed about for so long, and she'd envisaged hundreds of ways it could happen. This might have been one of them, she didn't know, but she knew that this moment was perfect. Nothing she'd imagined was as wonderful as the feeling of sharing lips with Scarlett, here and now.

Then Margot broke away, and noticed Scarlett's uncertain eyes, as she processed what had just happened, and what she wanted to do now.

"Don't..." she said, quieter than Margot had ever known her before.

"Scarlett," Margot was panicked and rambly, "oh my god, I am so sorry, I don't know what came over me. I just thought, you know, this was what you wanted. Oh god, oh god, what was I thinking..."

To her surprise, Scarlett raised one of her gloved hands, and gently caressed Margot's face.

"Don't stop, Margot," she said, and she carefully brought their faces back together. All her doubts, all her worries, had been completely erased now - like Margot, Scarlett knew this was right.

For too long, the two women had flirted around each other, sharing a mutual attraction but never quite being certain enough to act on those feelings. But now, as their lips met in desperation, those moments of hesitation and uncertainty all fell away. Each kiss gave way another - another kiss that was longer, more passionate, more sensual.

This wasn't about love or attraction, no - this was sheer sex.

Scarlett swiftly took charge, forcing her tongue into Margot's mouth in a display of sexual dominance. The Australian wouldn't have argued - she just groaned in pleasure, feeling Scarlett's gloved hand grab the back of her head as the Marvel star kissed hard and long. She was enjoying this - fuck, she needed this - and Margot was more than willing to give it to her.

It was right, Margot thought - her friend was always a little more out-there, a little more dominant. Margot had always been in awe of her friend, she knew that, and always a little subservient to what Scarlett wanted.

And now their feelings were out in the open, and Scarlett had assumed the Harley Quinn mantle, it was appropriate that she fully took charge. She was Harley now, and Harley always got what she wanted.

Margot thought that she'd wanted Scarlett, and that was true - the feeling of kissing her, of holding her, of being with her, that was all amazing. But she hadn't realised just how much she needed Scarlett to be in charge of her - how much the sense of her friend taking over would turn her on too.

They kept kissing, and Margot felt a pair of hands reach under her dress, roughly grabbing her butt. She jumped a little, making a noise of sexual pleasure as Scarlett began a rough massage, manhandling her because she could. Because it's what she wanted to do.

And if that's what Scarlett wanted, then it was what Margot wanted too.

A hand moved away from her butt, and traced its way around the outside of her leg. Creeping, slowly, ever slowly, round to Margot's dripping pussy. There were no pants in the way - she hadn't worn away, a touch of hope that looked like it would pay off. Fuck, she knew she was wet, but she hadn't realised quite how wet she was until that hand was hovering by her pussy, teasing her. Margot was kissing Scarlett, but her mind was elsewhere now, thinking about what her friend was going to do to her.

She fell away from the kiss and whimpered as Scarlett slowly pushed a finger inside her - she was slow, having fun playing with her, and the smirk on her clown's face told Margot just how much she was enjoying this.