A Kiss That Counted

Viola was still massively confused about relationships. She liked men but none of them could do it for her with any consistency. Girls could, she knew that now, but she'd only ever been with two (okay, so it was two in four days, but both had been excellent). Question was: where exactly was she going with Vanessa?

Well she knew precisely where. She'd as good as promised and her word was her vow.

She had also stoked herself up well beyond the nth degree. If she went home alone she'd lie awake all night, thinking about Joy.

No, she'd be thinking about Joy and jilling like crazy.

Put like that she had no option, had she?

Put like that she had no choice at all.

'A drink and then yours and what have you,' she said, 'sounds good to me.'

*****

Johnny Rotten was on the juke when they got to the Union, blaring out Viola's least favourite song.

"She was a girl from Birmingham . . ."

Overall Viola loved everything about the Union Bar. There were four official drinking dens on campus and the other three were, in her opinion, crappy. The Communal Bar was like a cavern, underground and vast with allegedly the longest serving area in Europe. It only ever had atmosphere when a band was on. The Quiet Bar was relatively tiny but speaking was taboo (the clue was there in the name: it was supposed to be no speaking, there for reading and studying, and woe beside anyone who even sneezed). And the Friendly Bar was full of gay men.

Say no more.

Mr Rotten's foul lyrics aside, it was the Union for Viola every time. The Union sold real-ale from micro-breweries scattered near and far. It had pool tables, darts boards and antique Space Invaders as well as the world's sexiest older woman behind the bar. And ninety-nine percent of the songs available on the juke were oldies but goodies, including less offensive Pistols tracks.

So the occasional bit of bad didn't really weigh against all the good.

Ninety-nine percent versus one; that was Alex Ferguson's sort of a record and had to be admired.

(And whoever did kill Bambi, by the way?)

Accompanying Vanessa to the bar Viola couldn't help but glance at Lesbians' Corner. Always busy, it was now stuffed to busting. But most of the girls with seats hadn't been at tonight's meeting, most of the ones who had been there were late arrivals, standing else sitting on a friend's knee.

And at least seventy of them were waving at her as she walked in.

Assuming a nonchalance she didn't really possess, Vi told Vanessa she would have a Marston's then slipped her a fiver.

'Get us baguettes,' she said out of the side of her mouth.

'This is on me.'

'Not if I'm going to drink all your wine later it's not.'

Vanessa rolled her eyes but still asked Gloria for two pints and two cheese and hams.

Casting around Viola couldn't fail to notice the sexy ass stretched out over the nearest pool table, its owner lining up a long shot.

That was the sexiest ass in the known universe.

That was Hev's sexy ass.

And she was playing doubles, partnered by Katie!

For a moment or two, Viola didn't know what to make of that. She knew that Hev had fucked Katie on Monday; that had been arranged before she and Hev had got together. But yesterday, when she and Hev had skipped lectures and fucked the afternoon and night away, Hev had said she had dithered in agreeing a second date.

Indeed she'd said she wanted to pencil something firm for the weekend in with Viola before agreeing anything more with Katie.

Surprising herself, Viola laughed. She'd agreed another date with Hev easily enough, but she already had a date for tonight. Obviously Hev had had a blank in her social diary and called up a substitute in her place.

And who was she to complain about that? Hev famously didn't do faithful and she'd been just as bad herself. Leastways she'd meekly accepted the situation and played along with scarcely a murmur. In fact, considering her lowly position on the learning curve, she was arguably worse.

Three different girls in five nights,' she thought, how wicked am I going to be!

'Not thinking of ditching me, are you?' Vanessa shoved a brimming glass of beer into Viola's hand as she spoke, nodding in Hev's direction.

As if on cue Hev played a cunning snooker and patted Katie's pert little backside. Or maybe her hand cupped that pert little backside. Whatever it did, they were clearly closer than close.

'I don't think ditching you is an option,' said Viola. 'And I wouldn't ditch you in any case. Not when you have wine at home, waiting just for me.'

Vanessa's resultant grin would have put a Cheshire cat's to shame. 'Eat your baguette and sup your Marston's,' she said.

Viola grinned back at her and, ignoring the amorous pool players, hastily complied.

Chapter Four

Vanessa's place was the usual half a mile or so off campus. It was also spectacular, almost up in the class of Hev's palace.

'My mum helps me financially,' Vanessa explained. 'When dad died at forty-two he was insured up to the eyebrows. The money's immaterial, of course, but it makes life easier for me.'

'Bad joss,' said Viola sincerely. 'If I lost my dad . . . Well I'd lose it altogether.'

'You have to get by,' said Vanessa. Then, shrugging morbid subjects off: 'So what is it to be, red or white?'

'Wine-wise?'

'But naturally.'

'Do you chill your red?'

'You mean like Madge chills hers?' Vanessa guffawed. 'No I do not. I keep my white in the fridge and my red in a rack in the kitchen.'

'White sounds good,' Viola said after a pause for due consideration.

'White sounds good to me too. Go grab a seat in there.' Vanessa pointed to a stylish, old stained-oak interior door. 'I'll go pour and be with you in a flash.'

The lounge was, to say the least, impressive. It possibly put Hev's lounge into the shade. And it had a real leather settee, big enough for three or four occupants. The widescreen TV was notable too. And the Sky box beneath was only too apparent.

Are United playing tonight? Viola wondered. They usually were on the box on a Wednesday. And that meant a chance of leering at Ryan and Becks.

Not that she wanted to leer at guys anymore. Just lately she'd rather leer at Posh.

No, make that at Sporty Spice.

Or better yet, Scary . . .

Talking about leering . . .

Vanessa's entry into her lounge was unforgettable. She had an enormous glass of white wine in each hand and was completely naked from the waist down.

Viola gulped at the sight. The girl wasn't nearly as skinny as she looked fully dressed. She didn't have a surplus ounce on her but she was not wasted in any way. Indeed her legs would have looked good on any supermodel anyone cared to name.

Yes, true superheroes such as Gisele, Adriana and even the ageless Kate Moss.

(Not that Kate was particularly ageless; she was just a tad older than most and ten times as sexy.)

And talking about legs . . .

Vanessa was visibly leaking. She had sleek, shiny wet trails running all the way down the inside of her thighs; and very, very alluring trails at that.

'Wine for two,' she said perkily.

'Looks good to me,' Viola replied, attempting levity, probably failing.

Vanessa stopped before her, still clutching two glasses, still visibly trickling.

'You are overdressed,' she said. 'You don't get your drink until we're on even terms.'

Rising to the bait, Viola stood and, not as smoothly as she would have preferred, tugged off her short, knee-length jeans. Before she could remove her panties Vanessa shoved a glass into her hand.

'Slow and steady wins the race,' she said, pressing Viola down into a sitting position, aligning herself beside her.

Slow and steady or catchee, catchee!

By some miracle Viola managed not to laugh. Maybe it was the excitement that stayed her. Or maybe it was Vanessa's fingers doing wonderful things on her, beginning on the insides of her relatively dry thighs, taking her time about it, dragging out best-ever thrills.

Wasn't she good! Wasn't she really something!!

And wasn't Vi glad she'd taken a leaf out of Hev's book and shaved off her stylish landing strip. As of a little earlier today she was smoother than smooth down there. When Vanessa investigated just a tad more closely she couldn't fail to be impressed.

Or so Viola sincerely hoped.

'More,' she gasped, 'please, please give me more.'

As if Vanessa needed to be incited. Still elegantly holding her glass, taking a sip of vino now and then, her eyes forever fixed on Viola's, she thrilled and thrilled and thrilled.

Repeating the blatantly obvious; wasn't she good at it!

Initially concentrating on legs, she gradually, eventually moved on to a very flat but trembling tummy and an exceptionally wet and pantie-clad triangle.

Deft white fingers skittering over eager ebony skin, provoking exceptional excitement, pleasuring and arousing with every inch they travelled.

Slower than slow, she progressed downwards, forever venturing lower and lower.

Slower and slower, lower and lower . . .

Then she was inside those panties, inside and on Viola right there, where it really mattered.

Not commenting on her all-over smoothness but feeling her all-over nevertheless.

Dragging it out most exquisitely, taking Viola ever higher and higher, bringing her closer than close.

At last, ultimately those fingers ended up in the most obvious place of all. Yes, they ended up just so, exactly where both of them wanted them to be.

Outside first and then, when Viola's gasps became semi-screams, in her.

Viola gasped louder than ever.

Why oh why had she dragged her feet!

Why hadn't she seen the truth much earlier!!

'Knickers,' Vanessa finally demanded. 'Get 'em off.'

There was no question of denying her. Swigging off the last of her vino Viola got to her feet, ditched her glass on a fancy coffee table and pulled down her panties.

Vanessa's face was down there and on her in an instant.

No, it was down there and in her.

And what a seeing-to she provided. Initially licking the insides of Viola's right thigh, she slowly worked her way upwards, avoiding her crotch, traversing her flat belly and progressing back down her other thigh. It was a delightful experience and her progress was almost painfully gradual.

No, it was positively incremental.

Indeed Vanessa's dozen or so leisurely return trips upwards and downwards must have taken at least an hour.

Then she kissed Viola's outer lips.

Heaven!

Viola came convulsively. Revelling in the response she'd provoked, Vanessa kept on and on, making her cum again and again.

Aeons later she switched her attention to Viola's inner lips.

Aeons after that she concentrated on Viola's opening, her tongue circulating in ever-reducing magic circles; circles which could have driven anyone insane.

Magic wasn't really the word. She deserved fantastic or stupendous, not merely magic.

And wasn't she brill! Sometimes keeping it external, sometimes penetrating fractions of an inch, often going for it and straining the roots of her tongue, penetrating to unbelievable depths, she took Vi right up to the top and kept her there.

Forever is a long sort of a word, but that's how it felt.

Picture this: a knowing tongue licking and lapping, teasing and cajoling. Isn't that a thought? Whether you are curious, exploring or dedicatedly straight, isn't a knowing tongue something to conjure with?

It was right then for Viola, anyway. By then beyond curious, being straight long-forgotten, she relished every last lick.

Stuff the neighbours' sensitivities, she screamed and screamed as she came and came.

Vanessa responded by withdrawing her tongue and inserting two fingers. And, as an afterthought, she redirected her tongue onto Viola's hood, deliberately moving it back and forth like she'd move a man's foreskin.

Assuming she did men.

Not as if anything remotely resembling men was likely to happen again in Viola's sex life.

Men didn't matter anymore.

In fact she'd forgotten why men had ever mattered in the first place.

Chapter Five

(Thursday 17th October 2002)

Viola woke somewhere around daybreak, meaning an hour or so before she needed to go back home and prepare for another day of intensive lectures. But her face was buried very deeply into a cleavage and Vanessa, the proud owner of said cleavage, seemed to have other ideas.

Didn't she just!

Viola gladly played along. Vanessa was very much of the doing persuasion but she did like to share it about once in a while. And those tits of hers were well worth sharing.

How had she every considered Vanessa skinny! Correct, her body didn't have an ounce of flab on it but her legs were divine and her tits got bigger by the minute. Okay, so they weren't enormous, but they were plenty big enough. And they were very, very moreish.

In other words playing along with her every last whim was ever so easy.

Consequently the day's first lecture simply didn't happen.

'I want more,' Vanessa said as they kissed adieu at the lifts, ground floor of the Main Building.

'I do too,' Vi agreed, 'but not tonight. Tonight I need to knock out zeds for England.'

'Been a long week, has it?' Vanessa's grin was far cockier than any guy's. Talk about knowing!

Viola ginned back at her. 'You can say that again.'

Avoiding the opportunity of the obvious, childish repetition, Vanessa asked: 'So when is it to be?'

Viola consulted the ready reckoner in her head. Keeping track of girlfriends was so difficult! She'd had scores of invitations last night without committing to any, not yet . . . as far as she could recall.

Or had she?

'I'm still waiting,' Vanessa prompted.

'How does next Tuesday work for you?'

'That's ages away.'

'I have ages of sleep to catch up with.'

Vanessa's expression was less than convinced but she finally agreed Tuesday.

'You'd better not be screwing Heather-fucking-Hunter in the meantime,' she growled.

'Me?' said Viola, innocence personified.

Too effing right I am, her mind added silently, all weekend long, as many times as possible.

Omigod, I cannot wait.

Taking her word as good as gospel, dropping the growls, Vanessa kissed her again and left.

And now here Viola was, one lecture missed, another and a study class drowsed through. For some reason she was reluctant to lunch in the Union and dined in the bog-standard refectory instead. No booze in there but relatively cheap food, all of it good, hearty stuff too; lashings of mash and carrots with just everything.

Not to mention sprouts and a very decent chicken and mushroom pie . . .

Then her phone buzzed. A new message had been received.

Shit, it was from Hev.

Gulping down tasteless mineral water, Vi opened the message.

"Hi, where are you hiding your sexy ass? Ring me like yesterday. We need to talk."

Casting around to ensure there were no spies or secret agents watching her, Viola made the call.

'So there is life after sex,' Hev said in greeting. 'How was it for you? Did the earth move?'

'I have no idea what you're talking about.'

'Oh yes you jolly well have. How'd it got with the delicious Vanessa?'

'As if,' Vi snorted. 'I'd never answer a question like that coming from the likes of you. It would be like broadcasting my likes and dislikes on the uni intranet.'

'Yeah,' said Hev, 'and it'd get you a zillion more willing admirers.'

Viola thought of Wednesday's new admirers and chuckled. She probably had enough willing admirers to be going on with already.

No point in being greedy, was there?

Well, was there?

'I heard the meeting went well,' Heather continued. 'I heard your dance card is full to busting.'

'We're still in the negotiating stage,' said Viola, impressed by her cool reply.

'Yeah,' Hev laughed, 'you and a hundred lusty young ladies, all of them dancing queens.'

'It's not nearly a hundred. It isn't even fifty.'

'That's not what the rumour mill's saying.' Hev then switched into a more earnest mode . . . as if she was fooling anybody.

'What about now?' she said. 'Talking about dance cards, what about having another waltz or two this afternoon?'

However did the girl do it? Barely three hours after that last fervent session of sex with Vanessa, right when Viola should have been as refractory as heck, and Hev had got her going with a mere handful of words.

No, she'd made it seem as though all that fervent sex with Vanessa counted for nix.

'I'm deep in the mire already,' Viola replied, her voice suddenly all of a-tremble. 'And my next class is due to start before I can finish my coffee . . .'

'What do you mean by in the mire?'

'I've been noticed as missing lectures by the powers that be.'

'In that case what about after your last class? What about four o'clock up here, in the Union.'

'Don't you mean down here in the Union?'

'Up or down depends on where you are just now. And quit stalling; answer my question. I'll be in here at four. Will you?'

'It'll be more like ten past,' Viola's mouth said, not stopping to reason why. Then, doing her best to be defensive, she added: 'Should I expect Katie to be there too?'

'Probably,' Hev laughed again, 'but not on my invitation. I'm proposing just the two of us; me and you.'

'You seem to be seeing a lot of Katie,' Vi persisted, 'Monday, Wednesday . . .'

'Please don't tell me you're jealous.'

'I'm not jealous; I'm determinedly independent. I'm just having doubts about you and Katie.'

'Trust me, babe, today is solely me and you. Will you be there?'

Images of other lovers flit through Viola's head: Madge and Vanessa and . . . purely in hope . . . Joy.

Then she thought of Heather and there was no decision to be made.

'Ten past,' she said, 'and I'll be drinking dry white.'

'Worry not.' Hev chuckled richly. 'I'll have a couple of bottles of pinot waiting on ice.'

*****

No less than three girls intercepted Viola between the door into the Union and Hev, who was chatting with Gloria over the bar. The three of them were easily recognizable from Wednesday's meeting and all wanted to buy her that proposed drink.

And, when advised she was meeting Heather, all three tactically withdrew.

It seemed that Hev's reputation preceded her. There again, she was a star all-round athlete excelling in martial arts. Rumour had it that Bruce Lee would have had his hands full with her.

And lucky him if it had ever come to that!

(Okay, so he'd been dead for three decades, but he'd have liked her; who wouldn't!)

'Here she is,' Hev said in greeting turning away from the glamorous older woman behind the bar, as if she'd sensed Viola's approach, 'the lady of the moment in every way.'

Gloria rolled her eyes, having heard it all before and, using her usual mastery of dark arts, produced a 250 mil glass of chilled white out of thin air.

Viola had a sneaky glance in the direction of Lesbians' Corner as she took a (hopefully) ladylike sip of vino. Dozens of pairs of eyes were on them. Even established and devoted couples were leering.

Or was it her imagination?

Slurping a big mouthful of Marston's, Heather assured her she looked good. Eyes rolling again, Gloria went off to serve someone else.

'I feel like a picture in an exhibition,' said Viola, spotting Vanessa there in her usual place (the one she most likely slept in when she wasn't off initiating willing if slightly innocent young girls).

'ELP,' said Heather. 'Great album, but it's not a patch on Brain Salad Surgery.'

That flew straight over Viola's head.

'So scrap the exhibition,' she said, 'I just feel conspicuous.'

'What is it? Are you so embarrassed by Vanessa staring at your ass, drooling like a slavering dog and too obviously wanting more?'

'Heather, you have such a way with words!'

'That's been said before; me and Jane Austen, eh? So are you?'