Phantasy

Prologue

She pushed him down onto the bed, giggling in her drunkenness. He lay back, waiting for the inevitable, but she was determined to spin out the moment. She began to gyrate to the soundtrack in her head, running her hands over her body, cupping her breasts, slipping one hand inside the waistband of a tiny denim skirt that seemed to consist of little more than the waistband. Three fingers stretched the lace and elastic as they moved inside her expensive underwear, over the neatly trimmed strip of pubic hair, searching out the source of the growing heat therein.

She teased him and toyed with herself for a couple of minutes, before turning her attention to her clothing. The black asymmetrical top came off first, peeled slowly over her head to reveal a beautiful black lace bra. She could tell from the growing swell in his jeans that the bra was worth every penny she had paid for it. She danced for a few more minutes, turning her back on him to unhook the delicate clasp. She slowly pulled the bra off first one shoulder, then the other, before crossing her arms and turning to face him again. She knelt over him, revealing her breasts as she started to caress the rising swell between his legs. His eyes were closed and his mouth open, his breathing becoming quicker and quicker. She teased down the zip and with an expert touch flicked open the button, pulling the opening apart. She ran her long, polished nails up and down the bare flesh; it sent shivers up his spine that were barely controllable.

Once again she turned her back on him, unzipping the miniscule denim skirt and letting it slide down her long legs. She slipped a hand inside the black panties and begin to play with herself, letting the pangs of pleasure she was giving herself be displayed in a more and more audible style, her fingers working against her hot, swollen clitoris. She closed her eyes as the constant endeavours of her fingers began to yield tangible results with the first surfacing of the orgasmic rush. She had waited for this moment for a long time, the dinner date had been torture, the long taxi ride back unbearable as they made out in the back - she had wanted to go down on him there and then - so it was no surprise that she could feel herself about to come. She was happy with that, multiple orgasms (the louder and more often the better) were her specialty. She toyed with her nipples using her free hand, pinching them hard between polished nails. As the rush threatened to take over, she forced herself to stop. She stepped out of her panties, tossing them to one side, before turning round to face him again. The look on his face told her that it was a job well done, but the erection in his right hand told the whole story.

In truth, the sex that followed was more workmanlike than spectacular, but they both enjoyed it. But it was not the memory of the sex that stayed with Christian Shepherd for so long, it was the show that she put on for him and the effect that it had on him. He stayed awake for a long time after the sex thinking about it.

Young Chris had aspirations of being a musician. He was 20 years old, two years into a four-year degree course of Music Production and Techniques at university in Sheffield. He had formed and disbanded several bands in an attempt to both improve and display his technique (which, as his tutors would admit but only behind his back, was already bordering on the prodigious) but was looking for that hook, that something extra which would propel his band beyond the ordinary. Nothing if not a pragmatist, Chris knew that the special 'extra something' would need to be controversial. What the starry-eyed young sociology student had done that night, far more than the best sex of his life that she imagined it had been in her wine-fuelled state, was sow the seed in his mind of his next project.

Chapter 1

The university notice board in front of Emma James carried one note that caught her interest. She'd actually been looking for details of the aquacise class at the local gym and swimming pool, but it was the advert looking for singers and musicians that she kept coming back to. There was something in the tongue-in-cheek wording that held her imagination - "must have strong exhibitionist streak!" was one such example. She scanned through the rest of the advert looking for contact details and was surprised to see the name 'Chris Shepherd' at the bottom. She knew the name well enough; she'd once been taken to a gig of one of his previous bands at a nightclub and was taken by his presence onstage, yet when she bumped into him at the bar after she could not believe that the shy young man before her was the same person. Even then she quite fancied him, but as she was at the gig on a date there was little she could do. She copied the mobile number into her little Nokia. She thought that even if she didn't get a gig, she might well get laid. A voice calling to her brought her out of her reverie. Her best friend Zoe, whom she'd arranged to come and meet for lunch. She knew Zoe and Chris were at the same university and wondered if there was any chance of an introduction...

In the end Zoe did not actually know Chris. Zoe was an Art & Design student and therefore in a completely different building, but Zoe knew of him and spoke glowingly while they took the five minute walk to the coffee shop, where they treated themselves to baguettes and cappuccino. Collapsing into two big armchairs in a quiet corner of the coffee shop away from the counter, the girls discussed Chris Shepherd - Christian, to give him his full name. Everyone knew he was a good musician, and he was always putting together bands and the general consensus was that sooner or later one of them would make it big. Emma rather fancied making it big, and if she could make it big with/for Chris then so much the better! Zoe egged her on to call Chris throughout lunch, not that she needed much egging on. Zoe knew that with her slim figure and blonde hair, Emma would completely wow Chris, as she did most men. When she did eventually call, they talked for a few minutes about music and stuff in general. He did actually remember her from the gig, which flattered her somewhat. She asked if they could meet up that night to discuss it further, as Chris was on his way to a lecture. He said that he was meeting some friends to watch some football match or other, but if she didn't mind being part of a crowd she was welcome to join. They arranged to meet at up later at a bar in the busy city centre.

Zoe was slightly jealous, but then that was nothing new for her where Emma was concerned. Emma was tall, statuesque but slim with it, long blonde hair (which she often covered with a dark wig). Zoe was smaller, petite but at the same time more rounded than her friend with dark hair in a neat bob, and generally much less outgoing. Emma was a professional at the art of seduction, not an out and out flirt like some people she could mention, but she could be engaging and attentive, bright, intelligent and humorous. Zoe was generally a little in awe of her, and now that Emma had a date (of sorts) with a guy she had fancied from afar for some time, Zoe felt the green eyed monster stirring. They parted after lunch and a little window shopping with a promise that Emma would call later and let Zoe know how she'd got on, 'unless of course we're too busy' Emma said with a twinkle in her eye.

Emma spent the rest of the afternoon mulling over what to wear. Should she go all out to pull him, or would that be too cheap? Should she go very casual, and convince him that she was earnest and sincere about being in a band? After all, her grandmother had been paying for first dance and then later also singing lessons while she was at school. When Emma went through a tomboy phase in secondary school her Grandma had then indulged her in guitar lessons, so Emma was confident that she could actually contribute something creative - she was not going along to be some dumb blonde stuck on stage to provide eye candy, like the girls in The Commitments. She had aspirations of stardom of her own, and if Christian Shepherd could help her realise them, then so much the better.

With a couple of hours to go before meeting him, she started to get ready. In the end she'd settled on a denim skirt finishing just above the knee - tight around her bum but not overtly sexy. This would be paired with a tight white vest top with spaghetti straps. She had an inkling from her two conversations that Chris would be somewhat conservative, so in case things got that far she selected white undies, very pretty and feminine. She loved that she could give the illusion of good girl when she wanted to.

In the shower, she thought about being in a band and the accoutrements of stardom, the money, the clothes, the notoriety, but most of all the sex that that must surely attract. Emma lost her virginity at sixteen to an inexperienced boy, fooling him into taking her to bed by lying about her age. By seventeen she had tired of the unimaginative fumblings of adolescent boys, and shortly after she'd fallen head over heels in love with a girl who pulled her in a nightclub. She'd never even thought of herself as remotely gay or even bi-sexual, but the sexiness and sheer effrontery of the girl completely overwhelmed her.

She remembered fondly the girl - her name was Jenny - and their first meeting. Emma had been in a club in Chesterfield with some friends. She was celebrating her eighteenth birthday a few days earlier (surprising the bouncers, who she'd been flirting with regularly for at least a year before) and by the time they reached the club there were only a few of the original party left, and they were all very drunk. She been kissing some guy earlier and hoped that she might bump into him in the club. As she scanned the dance floor, Jenny had caught her eye and held it for several long moments. Emma felt as if the girl was looking right into her. She was tall, like Emma, with cascading brown curls and an incredibly curvaceous figure.

Moments later, Jenny was by Emma's side. She didn't say hi, but she beamed a huge smile that instantly put Emma at ease. She leaned in close, so that Emma could see down the girl's low cut top, before the girl said, 'ever had sex in the toilet here?' Emma pulled back, but the girl was smiling, so she didn't take the question too seriously. 'No', she laughed, 'but it is my eighteenth birthday so maybe I'll get lucky yet!' The girl laughed. 'My name's Jenny. I remember my eighteenth, even though it was five years ago now. Let me get you a drink for your birthday and we'll see how lucky you get!' Laughing, they made their way to the bar and ordered two huge cocktails, before retreating to a booth. Emma jumped in first with Jenny following her, sitting on Emma's right. She half turned to face Emma, folding a long left leg underneath herself, with her left hand on the back of the seat not far from Emma's head.

They were sat in the booth for some time, laughing and joking, but Emma got the distinct impression that the Jenny's opening gambit said something about her true intentions. She thought about what it would be like to kiss another woman, and imagined it would be soft and inviting, not hard and aggressive like a boy. She kept stealing glances at Jenny's incredible cleavage, something Jenny noticed every time. Soon Jenny's right hand was on her knee, and Emma made no attempt to move it. Jenny steered the conversation round to sex, and asked if Emma was a virgin. Emma laughed.

"No, of course not!"

"Well, I wasn't sure, you look so innocent!" They both laughed. "Ever had sex with another girl?" Again, a strenuous denial from Emma. "But have you ever thought about it?" enquired Jenny.

The question left Emma taken aback. "No," she whispered, "have you?"

Jenny ignored her. "What do you imagine it would be like?" Emma took another long sip through her straw while she thought about her answer.

"Well, I imagine it's different from sex with a boy, a lot slower and more intimate, do you know what I mean? I imagine that two girls take their time a lot more, spend longer on foreplay and stuff. Girls don't fall asleep after they've come!" They both laughed. "What else?" Jenny probed. "What do you think a girl feels like?"

"I bet... I bet a girl is warm and soft when you touch her... I bet a girl would feel nice when you touch her."

"What do you think it would be like for a girl to touch you?" Emma caught her breath for a moment after Jenny's question.

"Girls touch themselves, so when a girl touches another girl they must know what they're doing... I mean, when you let a boy touch you, they need to be told what to do, then they still get it wrong... when you let them touch you, you know, down there, you're just about to come and they stop, or they change it, and you have to start again..." She was so carried away thinking about it, her eyes were closed, and it hardly registered when Jenny's hand moved up to the top of Emma's thigh, taking what little there was of Emma's dress with it. Jenny's voice, soft and assured, was so quiet that Emma had to lean closer to listen to her. She could smell Jenny's perfume and breathed it in deeply, and at first she was hardly aware that Jenny was talking again.

"That's exactly right, Emma, when men touch you they hardly know what they're doing. Most of the time they just want to get inside you as fast as possible. Ever have an orgasm just from a cock being inside you? I know I haven't. Men just don't realise that women have other bits that needs to be worked on first."

"Like your-"

"Like your mind first Emma, men don't realise how horny women can get just from thinking about and talking about the right things. Isn't that right? Don't you feel just a little horny?" Emma was about to answer when, for the first time, she became aware of Jenny's hand. Rather than rest lightly on her knee, it was now tucked between Emma's thighs. Her tiny dress had ridden - or, rather, been pushed, right up, so looking down Emma could see the vee of her white panties, with Jenny's hands just millimetres away from the dampening material. They were sat behind a table, so if anyone looked at them it looked as though they were just two girlfriends enjoying a gossip over a cocktail. She tried to open her mouth to answer, but she was silenced as Jenny's feather-light touch closed the short distance to her panties. She became aware of Jenny's finger running lightly up and down the lips of her vagina, slowly and softly, and always falling short of her clitoris. A gentle, deliberate movement that caused Emma to stop breathing for a few seconds. Jenny said nothing for a while until Emma's breathing returned. Their eyes met, and Emma's lips formed into a wanting pout, but Jenny held back, holding the same considered movement. Emma's hands gripped the edge of the cushion.

"A woman needs to be engaged first Emma, don't you agree? She needs to have her interest piqued. Once the mind is interested in sex, the body will follow."

"Yes..."

"You're so right, what you said about a woman understanding where another woman wants to be touched, do you know that? Like when you give oral sex to another woman, you know precisely where she wants to be licked, and where she doesn't. You know how fast, and for how long... even if you get it wrong at first you understand the signs and put it right straight away." Jenny's fingers worked the edge of the sodden material, gently pulling it aside and taking Emma's breath with it. Jenny paused for a split second before making the same motion directly onto Emma's pussy lips. Emma's nerve endings were screaming at the merciless teasing she was receiving. If Jenny knew exactly how a woman wanted to be touched, why the hell didn't she get on with it?

"Foreplay is important too, you're right about that as well. For example, I could just work your clit now (she rubbed it briefly while saying it, causing Emma to moan and close her eyes) and bring you off straightaway, but wouldn't it be more fun to postpone it, wait for it, work for it a little?" She stopped rubbing Emma's clitoris, returning to the same luxurious strokes on the younger girl's pussy lips. As Emma become more and more excited, her vaginal lips were parting almost indiscernibly, and with each caress Jenny's fingers worked into the gap, just a fraction more each time. "I imagine that if you wanted to, you could come pretty much right now, and all we've done is talk about sex for a few minutes, with a few little touches thrown in. Am I right?"

"Oh, hell, yes, I could-"

"But that wouldn't be fun! Why rush it? And as you also pointed out, men are quite selfish, whereas I find women are altogether more altruistic. I could make you come right here and now, but what have you done for me?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Now that's more like it. The first thing I want you to do then, is very, very slowly, very carefully, I want you to take off those soaking wet panties. Very carefully, so that you don't draw any attention." Emma gulped, but the mixture of alcohol, being close to her orgasm and Jenny's incredible sexuality left her so intoxicated she did not question it. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband and, just as ordered, slid them down as far as her calves, before using the heels of her shoes to work them down the rest of the way. She stooped to pick them up, and then sat upright, beaming.

"Well done that girl. Now, let me have them." Emma handed them over, slightly surprised. Jenny quickly stuffed them into her handbag. "My trophy!" she grinned. "Right, follow me." Thy eased themselves out of the booth, Emma conscious all the while that with one ill-judged move she would be displaying her wares to everyone. "I fancy a dance", Jenny explained.

They bustled their way to the middle of the dance floor. By this time, the floor was shaking to deep R'n'B and hip-hop, and both girls felt like they could feel the bass throughout their body. The girls began to dance, working together, eventually grinding their bodies together to create quite a spectacle. Emma was faintly aware that a small clearing had been created around them on the dance floor and a few men were actually cheering them on. Jenny took the lead, positioning herself so that she had a leg between Emma's. As they started grinding to the music, Emma realised she'd done it on purpose, her clit coming directly into contact with Jenny's thigh every few seconds. The movements quickly become unbearable for Emma, she was almost literally crying out for Jenny to finish her off. They continued in that vein for several more minutes, the juices on Jenny's leg eventually becoming visible under the hot lights. She leant into Emma, her mouth so close to Emma's ear that her tongue was practically inside it.

"Are you ready for that visit to the toilet then?" She breathed. The pleading look in Emma's eyes was answer enough. She took the younger girl's hand and led her through the cheering male audience.

They fought their way through to the toilets. Once inside, Jenny pushed open a cubicle door, forcing Emma in before locking it behind them. Jenny collapsed onto the seat, hoisting up her skirt before pulling Emma down so she was sitting astride her. Their mouths met, a kiss that was not at all soft and tender as Emma imagined, but urgent and passionate. Their tongues touched and Emma was electrified at the feeling. They kissed for several minutes before Jenny pushed her away.

"Right, this is your chance to do something for me," she said with a wicked glint in her eye. Emma took the hint, sliding purposefully down Jenny's lap and going gracefully down on all fours. Emma nibbled at Jenny's knees, kissing them, before rubbing her hands up Jenny's thighs and making sure that her skirt was firmly up around her waist. She worked little butterfly kisses up the inside of both of Jenny's thighs, hesitating slightly upon reaching the tight red lace stretched across Jenny's pubic mound. She planted one or two tentative kisses on the material and then, emboldened, started to run her tongue up and down the well-defined outline of Jenny's labia. Jenny thrust her groin forward into Emma's face. More importantly, she thrust it up, off the seat, and the inference was clear; take them off, please.