A Twist in the (Very Sexy) Tail

And she's played ninety minutes of football in-between!

As if reading her mind, Heather chortled. 'I need to get my second wind,' she admitted. 'But fear not, I still have plans.'

Side by side on their backs Viola reached out and stroked Hev's artificial erection.

'I'm lost for words,' she said truthfully. 'No man has ever . . .' she shrugged helplessly, 'Well, I'm sure you know what I mean.'

'Men tend to collapse after they've shot their load,' Heather agreed, 'in my experience, anyway. It can take a lot of effort and ingenuity to get them up again. That's why we women are superior. We can go again and again.' She chortled some more. 'And please don't think I've quit. Five minutes and I'll give you an encore.'

'Okay,' said Viola, 'but I'll do the doing.'

'You don't have to. Don't feel obliged. Trust me; I got as much out of that as you did. And did I tell you you're beautiful, by the way?'

'Once or twice . . . and don't change the subject.'

Heather's hand came to rest on Viola's, which was still on the dildo. 'Wednesday night,' she said, 'be prepared to face the hurricane.'

Viola's heart rate stepped up a gear or three. 'That wasn't a hurricane?'

'No; that was just me being loving and considerate. Wednesday will be even better. Trust me; I've got your measure now.'

'I trust you,' Viola laughed, 'fool that I am.'

'Anytime I go over the top, just tell me.' Hev sounded unusually sincere. 'I don't often go off down the wrong track but, if I do something you don't appreciate, say so for goodness' sake. Last thing I want is to fall out.'

'Me too,' said Viola. Then, wanting to be honest, unable to stop herself, she said: 'I meant it about me and guys. Only one or two have ever made me cum. Most of them failed miserably. But you made me cum before I even got my knickers off, and not just one little trickle.'

'Flattery will get you everywhere,' Hev countered. 'What about Kris? Was he a hit or a miss?'

'I don't really talk out of school.'

'Neither do I. But this is me and you; occasional lovers together. So was he?'

'Yes,' Viola confessed, sniggering a little, 'he was the best. Before you, I mean. Before you I thought three times was right up there.'

'And I did better than three times?'

'You know you did.'

'So tell me anyway.'

'Double it, add a thousand and multiply by ten. And don't get big-headed while you're at it.'

They giggled awhile, cosy there on the bed, hands and flanks touching.

'Who gets Tuesday?' Viola asked eventually. 'I know it's Katie on Monday. Is Tuesday Dwayne?'

'Dwayne's been dismissed with just the hint of a promise,' said Heather. 'Tuesday belongs to Jenny. She's helping me with my karate.'

Viola must have frowned because Heather hurried on with the justification.

'Jenny is my coach's friend. She's won all sorts of titles and is helping me out as a favour. There's a big championship coming up.''

'Are you sleeping together?'

'Not yet. But we will be on Tuesday night.' Heather shrugged, 'She's on a promise so that's the way it is. I never back out on a promise. Therefore I'll never back out with you on Wednesday or Thursday.'

Doing her best to be jealousy-free, Viola decided to make as much of their relationship as she could.

I can do uncommitted too, she assured herself.

I hope.

'Okay,' she said out loud, 'who's got Friday and the weekend?'

'I don't usually plan so far ahead. They're free as of now.'

'Not anymore they're not.'

Heather laughed. 'That's not occasional. That's almost living together.'

'Well,' Viola said as casually as she could, 'if you don't think you can keep up with me . . .'

'You bet I can keep up with you.' Heather laughed again. 'You've got me sussed, haven't you? I can never resist a challenge.'

'So is the challenge accepted?'

'Too right it is.' Heather grinned before kissing Viola, softly yet passionately. 'And if you're trying to get me horny again, you've succeeded,' she added as an afterthought.

'I'm glad to hear it; I've just about got bones back in my legs.'

Some might have queried that assertion but Hev just laughed.

'I hoped you might say that . . .'

Chapter Six

(Monday 14th October 2002)

The next two days were, in Heather's considered opinion, strange. Normally she could have extensive sex and immediately shrug it off, in effect moving on from one adventure in eager anticipation of those still to come.

Yet she couldn't get Vi out of her head.

Although she kept up her everyday smiley appearance through Monday's lectures and tutorials, she was plagued with conflicting emotions. Viola had been so good to be with. Viola had been a revelation in bed. Viola had gotten under her skin. Agreeing time with Katie had been a mistake.

But Katie had been given assurances that couldn't be lightly discarded.

Not that Heather even once seriously considered discarding Katie. Her take on sex was very much in line with Meatloaf's: no way could she ever break her promise or forget her vow.

If she ever did, no way could she really survive.

But truth be told, she'd far rather be gearing up for another night with Viola.

Being totally honest, Heather didn't dislike Katie in any way. Katie was bubbly, blonde and very big-breasted. She was also a lot of fun to be with.

She just wasn't Viola.

Worst luck.

But an agreement was an agreement, wasn't it?

Never breaking her promise or forgetting her vow, Heather hit the Union Bar at precisely four o'clock.

And she nearly died on the spot.

Viola was there, sitting on Lesbian's Corner with a couple who were, to say the least, "experienced".

Oh no, Heather said silently, not the gruesome twosome! Anything but them!!

On cue as ever, the juke began to play Heaven Can Wait, somewhat popular in that particular part of the woods. If she'd heard it once she'd heard it a thousand times.

Heather's feelings were . . . well, mixed. In a way she was proud to see Vi there on the Corner, mixing with girls she'd previously have kept well away from. She was making an effort to underline Sunday's coming out statement, obviously. But to see her there, chatting cosily with Leanne and Debs . . .

"Gruesome twosome" really did sum those two up in behaviour, if not in looks. They operated together like a finely co-ordinated tag-team, and a relentless one at that, hunting down innocent girls, one after another.

Heather didn't class herself as vulnerable and certainly not innocent. That's why she'd let herself be hunted down by the deadly duo on several occasions. Bouncing about on a bed with them was very enjoyable for an open-minded girl like her.

But seeing them stalking Viola . . .

That wasn't fair by any standards.

Not that Viola appeared to be being stalked. Judging by body language, she was more than happy to be with them.

She was also keeping her eyes determinedly away from the doorway.

I'm here, Heather thought, and she knows it. I'm here and she's ignoring me on purpose.

Katie was already at the bar. Tearing her eyes away from Vi's beautiful profile, Heather joined her.

'Hi,' she began, 'sorry I'm late.'

Katie smiled and fluttered her mascara-laden lashes. 'I'm so excited,' she said, 'Let's go to your place without further ado.'

*****

With the benefit of hindsight Heather should have realized sooner, like maybe there in the Union Bar. But she didn't. Forgoing even one pint of Marston's, arm-in-arm, she walked Katie home. Then, in the privacy of her bedroom, sticking to a winning formula, she kissed her while deftly unfastening her own jeans.

And then, passionately duelling tongues, she steered Katie's hand until it was more or less between her legs, except a little higher, on her firm, tanned and slightly trembling abdomen.

Katie's response bemused her. For ten, maybe even twenty seconds she didn't move at all, her palm moist and warm on Heather's skin, tantalizingly close to her G-string but not encroaching by even one fraction of an inch.

Come on girl, Heather thought, what are you waiting for, Christmas?

When Katie did finally make a move it was totally unexpected. Instead of delving deeper she withdrew her hand and unfastened her Levi's.

And then she steered Heather's hand between her legs, except a little higher, onto her relatively firm, pink and noticeably jittery abdomen.

Heather didn't mind that at all. She'd always been equal opportunities when it came to sex. So far as she was concerned giving a new lover chance to go first was only being polite.

It was only later, after a lot of fingering, eating and tribbing that reality sank in.

Katie wanted to be exclusively the girl.

On one level that didn't bother Heather. Equal opportunities fan or not, she had always liked to be the woman in charge. She'd often been accused of liking it too much. In fact she was even worse with the odd guy she favoured than she was with any of the girls.

Or so rumour had it.

Contrasts did, however occur to her. Bubbly and big-breasted as she was, Katie showed no spirit of adventure. Given an early chance of groping, Viola had gone for it big-time. And she'd made sure she followed up by seizing half-chances, usually in the form of Heather's only-too-willing boobs, and with both hands.

Tighter than tight!

She'd contributed too, even while being strap-on shagged. Yes, she'd contributed whole-heartedly at all times. Apart from being present and willing, Katie wasn't really contributing. The traffic was all one-way.

But it was a matter of horses for courses, wasn't it?

Still in full Meatloaf mode, Heather accepted the way things were and did her best to give Katie the night of her life. And, judging by the blonde's reactions, she didn't do too bad a job of it.

Katie wasn't Viola, though.

Not by a long chalk.

Chapter Seven

(Tuesday 15th October 2002)

Tuesday for Heather was a little less strange. She had no reservations at all about meeting up with Jenny and only the slightest remorse about taking Katie's virginity.

Why should she feel remorse? If ever a girl had wanted taking it was Katie. If anything, she'd wanted to be taken too much.

Jenny was totally different. She wasn't bubbly or busty, she was coolly attractive, extremely exciting and emitted a smouldering sexual allure. And although tonight was their first "official" tryst, they had already had a skirmish. Virginity was certainly not an issue that was likely to arise.

Lots of Heather's flings happened on the spur of the moment; lots of unplanned skirmishes escalated into full nights of passion. Pre-arranged trysts, however, generally began with an agreed meeting in a bar (the Union, more often than not).

But not that night: no, rather than meeting up for a drink first, they met up for a fight.

That was part of the deal, though. Old as she was, in her thirties Jenny was still adept at karate. She was still astoundingly fit, too. Amazonian to start with, that lady was a handful by any standards. How she did not have cupboards full of Olympic medals was a mystery to Heather.

Well, it would be if it wasn't for the IOC. For some reason they'd never given the discipline the place it deserved, hence no medals for anybody. Maybe one day, maybe in twenty years' time . . .

Jenny was a girlfriend of Heather's karate coach, Maggie. They were both in relationships with guys but had been seeing each other on the side for years. And, probably because of some old uni thing, they shared intimate stories and applauded each other's off-the-record exploits.

According to Jenny, Maggie fancied Heather like crazy and would be making a move soon.

According to Heather that would be just fine. But Jenny had moved first, so, consequently . . .

Well, go figure.

The fight lasted almost an hour and was really a blend of well-practiced attack and defence. Jenny was very, very good and dangerous as heck. Over a decade earlier she had won the championship Heather would soon be contesting. As Maggie had put it, she'd been there, done that and got the T-shirt. Time spent with her on the mat could only help.

Heather couldn't have agreed more. It was a privilege to be punched and kicked by such a talented opponent, and valuable instruction too.

Sadly the ladies' changing rooms were busy so skirmishing again afterwards in the showers wasn't an option. Washing separately they dressed and left the sports centre together, avoiding bars and booze, going directly to Jenny's and, after minimal chat, they contentedly shagged the night away.

And still Heather couldn't get Viola completely out of her head.

This time there was no failing on her lover's part (perceived or otherwise). Jenny's approach was very much as Heather's: extenuating circumstances aside, it was her duty to give and take equally; selling a partner short was not to be even dreamed about.

Not even in the worst of nightmares.

All lovers should have such high standards!

Katie had lasted perhaps four hours before wimping out: Jenny and Heather sixty-nined for at least as long as that. And neither of them slept one wink all night through. The sex was hot, brilliant and so, so rewarding.

Yet still Heather kept thinking of Viola. Even in the (very high) heights of passion, she kept thinking of Viola.

*****

Later, in the small, wee hours, taking a timeout, hands roaming less-than sexual zones (for a change and probably not for long), Jenny wondered about the weeks to come.

'Do you want to see me again,' she asked, 'or was that it?'

'Of course I want to see you again,' Heather replied, 'but what about Maggie?'

'Do you mean you and Maggie or me and Maggie?'

'I mean you and her, silly. Will she really not mind?'

'Mags will be jealous as hell but she won't mind. Once she gets over her envy she'll be proud of me. And I'm proud of me, too. So yeah, why not; let's do it again soon.'

'Anytime you want is good by me.'

'What about her?'

'Me and Maggie haven't happened yet. I've only your word for it that she's even remotely interested.'

'I'm not talking about Maggie; I'm talking about her.'

That struck a chord. Heather hedged instinctively: 'What do you mean?'

'I mean what about the girl you're in love with.'

Gulping in air, Heather hesitated before turning to look at Jenny. Jenny was staring up at the ceiling, seemingly at peace with the world. Her hands were still roaming but not in a direct way. To all extents and purposes they were merely chatting.

'I'm only in love with Mary Rose,' Heather ventured. 'And she's two hundred miles away in Oxbridge. I hardly spare her a thought these days.'

'Who's Mary Rose?'

'My friend from school . . . And yes, before you ask, she was my very, very special friend.'

'So she's two hundred miles away and you've hardly seen her in the last two years?'

'We go on holiday together at least twice a year; summer and Easter. But I suppose you're right; it's not the same as seeing her all day, every day at school.'

'I bet it isn't. And I bet there's something you aren't telling me. Come on girl; out with it.'

'But . . .'

'Don't but like a billy goat. There's someone else on the scene, isn't there? Someone you can't stop thinking about. And don't deny it; I can read you like a book.'

Quick on her feet as she was, Heather couldn't think of a decent denial. 'There's someone I like,' she admitted carefully. 'But nobody will ever replace Mary Rose.'

'Tell that to the marines,' said Jenny. Then, chuckling, 'Listen, girl: whoever she is she is very lucky. And by my calculations that makes you very lucky as well. Don't waste too much precious time on the likes of me and don't hang back. Go for it; strike while the iron is hot.'

'But Mary Rose . . .' Heather's words tailed off as she realized he hadn't thought about Mare in almost a week. Call for the Guinness Book of Records!

How'd that happened? Had she been replaced by stealth?

Hmmm, that was one to ponder over at a later date.

Jenny didn't seem to do later dates. 'The way I see it is this,' she went on. 'Suddenly, out of nowhere, you've met someone you like more than anyone else.'

Heather shrugged and said nothing.

'I'm a poor one for taking advice,' Jenny continued, chuckling again. 'And I'm not much better at giving it. In fact I might be doing myself out of another date but here goes anyway. Sometimes you meet that special person, whether you realize it or not. This might be the one for you. So, if there's any chance at all, go for it. Don't let the big moment pass you by.'

That triggered a highly unusual event: tears came to Heather's eyes. Jenny was obviously speaking from the heart. What chance had she missed herself? What great opportunity had gone, presumably somewhere back in her youth?

And why wasn't she bitter? How could she be so generous in saying what she had?

'It won't be long,' said Jenny, her voice soft. 'Give it another ten years, maybe, and girls will be able to marry. We'll probably get the right before guys. This country always has been understanding about us lezzies. Or was it Queen Victoria who didn't believe women could have sex together?'

Heather had heard the stories and believed they were old wives' tales. Even so, Jenny was right. A lot of females had lived as "woman and wife" back in the days when the sentence for men found guilty of buggery was to be hanged by the neck until dead.

Yes, right up until 1861. After that offenders got off with imprisonment. The man himself, Oscar Wilde, got two years as recently as 1895. Male decriminalization only happened in 1967 . . .

But lesbians had been free to do as they wilt forever and ever.

'I guess it'll happen at the same time,' she said. 'The marriage thing, I mean. There's a lot of catching up to do for men, isn't there?'

'What about you and your new woman?' Jenny wondered. 'Will you catch up with her?'

In response Heather buried her face in Jenny's groin.

Was she avoiding the question?

Okay, so maybe she was . . .

Chapter Eight

(Wednesday 16th October 2002)

Today had included a lot of contemplation. Jenny featured, naturally.

Sweet, kind and considerate Jenny, Heather supposed now.

They'd breakfasted together on tea and toast and parted with a kiss. But, although they'd arranged to practice in the gym on Friday, they hadn't agreed a more personal date.

'I'm already seeing someone later on Friday,' Heather had said awkwardly.

'I do hope it's her,' Jenny had replied with a grin.

Mainly, however, today's contemplation had been on Viola and Mary Rose. Her feelings varying from minute to minute, Heather had tried to decide what it was she really wanted.

And she'd failed. Mary Rose was an annoying, irritating, over-competitive redhead who'd plagued her all the way through her school years at The Manor. She'd set standards for Heather to match at every turn for seemingly ever.

By all rights they should have been deadly rivals, forever at each other's throats. But they weren't like that at all. Appearance apart, they could have been sisters, albeit incestuous ones.

Heather had loved Mary Rose almost on sight, when she'd been nervously unpacking (the new girl in a totally alien environment), and Mare had stuck her head round her door.

'You look lots more interesting than the other newbies,' the precocious little baggage had said. 'Don't shilly-shally about with them. Stick with me. I know absolutely everything there is to know about this place. I'll show you the ropes.'

Perhaps because she had to compete at everything, Mare had loved her back in return. She'd wanted Heather to go to Oxbridge with her. Heather had the qualifications and could have afforded it (thanks to the Bank of Dad) but she was a farm lass at heart. In her considered opinion Oxbridge would be no more than The Manor times twenty. So she'd set her sights on something red brick or plate glass and ended up in darkest Lancashire.