Come on Eileen

Angie glanced around the room. One boy-girl couple was on the bed, kissing passionately. The other couple was sitting cross-legged by the door, deep in meaningful conversation. Damien's buddy was sharing the chair with him. They were sharing a spliff and staring into space, seemingly meditating.

Turning her attention back to Karin, Angie wondered exactly how friendly Karin was prepared to be.

Was she straight or not? She certainly hadn't been to any of the LGBT or Lesbian Society meetings; not the ones Angie had attended, anyway.

But never mind that; she was flirty and touchy-feely. She had to be at least slightly curious.

What if I offend her, Angie thought. What if she responds by slapping my face?

Then she remembered her resolutions.

Starting exceptionally early for once, she had made half a dozen resolutions. By now, still days before next year actually began, only one of them remained intact: the one about being more assertive when out on the pull.

Not that there was much wrong with her general assertiveness. When a connection had been made she wasn't at all lacking in that direction. With established lovers she could be downright outrageous. No, her resolution was to be more involved in the selection process. Crazy as it seemed, she'd never made the first approach. And why should she have? Despite being oversized and very mannish, she'd never wanted for approaches.

Being in demand wasn't a problem, obviously; she was spoilt for choice and only ever turned down an offer if it came from a bloke. But, by merely being content with whatever girl happened to come along, she might well be missing out.

And she had a growing reputation to add to. Being more predatory could only assist. So what if she got the odd knock-back?

So what if Karin reacted in shock and disgust.

Nothing ventured . . .

'I know a way to get the maximum out of that,' Angie said, pointing at the joint, 'assuming you've got a dash of adventure in you.'

'How could I resist such a claim?' Karin batted her lashes. 'Come on girl, let's maximize.'

Chapter Four

Karin lit up and passed the straggly reefer across. Angie had a pull and held the smoke in her lungs a moment before pressing her mouth to Karin's and forcefully exhaling. Karin's surprised reaction didn't last long. Swiftly grasping the concept, she sucked in, held, and then breathed out through her nose.

'Two for the price of one,' she said. 'I like your style.

'Your turn,' said Angie, passing back the reefer.

Karin inhaled without demur and, after reaping the benefit, transferred the smoke into Angie's mouth.

'Two for one,' she said again, giggling.

Angie took her turn for the next pull and dutifully passed it on. This time, when her lungs were empty and Karin's were full, she let her lips linger.

Karin did likewise when it was her turn.

The next go was Angie's. As well as letting her lips dally a while she also used her tongue to complete a clockwise circle around Karin's mouth.

The sensation was hotter than hot.

Again, when her turn followed, Karin did likewise.

All too soon the joint was done. Karin cast a glance towards Damien and sighed. 'Looks like he really is out of supplies,' she said.

Damien was still on his chair, his androgynous buddy now well encamped on his knee. They were still meditating and very noticeably smokeless. So too was everyone else. The boy and girl who'd bagged the bed were under the duvet, more passionate than ever. The other couple had dropped meaningful conversation in favour of some serious snogging.

Sex pheromones now outweighed the scent of burnt grass.

Well, it had become a close match, by any standards.

'We can do it with the red wine,' Angie suggested.

Karin stared at her.

'It won't maximize the bottle,' Angie went on, 'but it'll be lots more fun.'

So saying, she took a mouthful of Merlot and, after briefly savouring the taste, pressed mouths again and squirted it into Karin's. Karin kept the contact going, savouring in her own right before squirting it back to Angie.

Angie swallowed and laughed. 'That's not the game,' she said. 'I drink, you swallow. Then you drink, I swallow.'

They exchanged a few modest mouthfuls then Angie decided to up the stakes.

Seduction Angie Baby style, she thought. Seems to be working . . .

This time Angie's tongue followed the wine into Karin's mouth. Karin gripped Angie's arm, swallowed the vino and sucked on her tongue. Angie had the wine bottle in her left hand. Her right instinctively landed on Karin's leg.

Karin gripped tighter and sucked harder.

Encouraged, Angie moved her hand onto the inside of Karin's thigh and began stroking.

Karin's stopped kissing and snatched at the bottle, taking an almighty swig and immediately passing it on, her tongue in close pursuit. Angie swallowed, sucked and let her hand drift onto Karin's pussy.

The thick seams of her jeans were, of course, inconveniently in the way. Even so Karin took in a deep breath and trembled in appreciation. Her free hand made a grab for Angie's tits, scrambling over them and unable to choose a favourite.

Angie never could work out how long it took them to finish that bottle of wine. It could have been only a few minutes or, taking into account the kissing and groping, it could have been hours. But eventually it was as empty as Damien's bottomless well.

'I'll go naturalize a bottle of something,' said Karin, looking at the makeshift bar. 'That Harvey's Bristol Cream looks sort of lonesome.'

'I've had enough alcohol,' said Angie. 'And your mouth is soft and very moreish. Let's just carry on as we are.'

Karin's eyes were bigger and browner than ever. 'You don't look drunk,' she said.

'I'm not. I'm in a good place: halfway fresh, halfway stoned. And to be perfectly honest, I'm randy as heck. Any more alcohol and I'll do something rash.'

'Like those two?' Karin indicated the bed.

Angie had to laugh. Apparently fully dressed, the boy and girl under the duvet were dancing the oldest dance in the world. Okay, so dry humping might be the order of the day, but she tended to doubt that. Not with the girl on top, going for it like a whirling Dervish.

'I'd be even more direct,' she said. 'I'd club you over the head then drag you to my cave by the hair.'

'Is that where we're going to end up; in cave 444?'

'It's getting more likely by the second. And that's without any more booze being involved.'

Her hand was still busy on Karin's pussy. Holding her gaze with the mighty gravity of those wonderful eyes, Karin pressed her groin forward, offering it up.

'Let's skip the booze,' she said. 'And let's skip the club and hair-dragging too. Let's just haul our asses off to your cave.'

*****

The party was still ongoing when they left. Well, it certainly was for the duvet couple. As Angie got to her feet, flexing her knee-joints, the guy started making those "I'm cumming" grunts. Clearly nowhere near done, the girl carried on even harder.

'Go for it, gal,' Angie murmured. 'Don't let him off lightly.'

'Thanks for being here,' said Damien, hauling himself down from the planet Zog . . . or maybe from a galaxy far, far away.

His buddy said nothing. He/she just kept staring at the ceiling.

The other boy-girl couple had advanced, but not to the point of penetration. Not yet. Mostly blocking the doorway, they were fervently embraced but keeping their hands to themselves.

Stepping over them, Angie and Karin left 227 and headed for 444 and sex.

Angie had fibbed when she'd claimed to be halfway fresh. Her alcohol tolerance was impressive. She hadn't been fibbing about being halfway stoned, though, and if anything, she had undersold herself when it came to being randy.

She was, however, in some sort of control. On the way to bed with a new lover she was usually ready to orgasm at the drop of a . . .

Well, the drop of a hat, if not the drop of a pair of panties.

But tonight was different. Tonight she was eager but not prematurely so. Perhaps it was the grass but tonight she was laid back and capable of anything.

Not that she intended being backward in any respect. Oh no, Karin had been girly and flirty all along.

And if she wanted to be girly, she'd definitely flirted with the right randy lezzie.

Chapter Five

(28th December 1997)

Angie woke in daylight to misty memories of tribbing; lots and lots of tribbing. All the start and finish times were vaguer than vague but she had, she was sure, put in a master-class of tribbing.

Or should that be a mistress-class?

Semi-awake after maybe half an hour's snooze, she chuckled. She was on her back, on her bed and, as it was a narrow single, Karin was sprawled on top of her. Karin's face was buried in Angie's tits . . . so, no surprise there, then. All her lovers seemed to use her tits as pillows. It would have been slightly disappointing if Karin had buried her face anywhere else.

Her pussy aside, of course, and so far Karin's face hadn't been anywhere near kitty-kitty.

Less sadly, Karin had joined in the tribbing. Okay, so she'd been a girly taker for ages, but eventually, when Angie started to flag, she'd climbed on board. There had been mention of harnesses . . . at least Angie thought there had, she might have dreamed that bit.

Anyway, it had been a fun night and it wasn't over yet.

Or was it?

Angie checked the time. It was 9:41. Another hour before she needed to worry about her last full day behind the bar in the Union.

She ran her hands down Karin's sides and around, onto her plump bums, liking the feel of her curves.

'Are you in the land of the living?' she asked, not trying to keep the volume down because, apart from the two of them, her end of the corridor was currently unoccupied.

And not that she worried much when her immediate nest-door neighbours were present. The three of them had . . . ahem, an "arrangement" . . .

'Are you?' she repeated.

'Yes,' said Karin, her voice muffled by springy globes of flesh.

(Springy globes of flesh which just loved the vibration of a woman's husky tones on them!)

'Fancy picking up where we left off?'

No response.

'Hey,' said Angie, 'I'm on a working schedule. And I'll go any way you want. Show willing, can't you?'

No response.

Or was that a sniffily sob?

'Hey,' Angie said again, pulling her lover up, getting a proper look at her face. 'What's going on?'

Karin's brown eyes were brimming. 'I . . . I shouldn't have,' she stammered.

Omigod, Angie thought, she's full of regrets. Don't say . . .

No. No way was that girl a virgin in any sense of the word.

'Yes you should have,' she said aloud. 'And don't try to tell me I'm your first girl. I've known high class whore's with less talent than you.'

That got Karin's attention. 'Have you?' she wondered, open-mouthed.

'Well no, not really. I've never paid for it yet. But I'm experienced . . . and so, lady, are you.'

'It's my girlfriend,' said Karin. 'We're supposed to be faithful.'

Angie groaned internally. Not another! Why didn't they say before instead of after?

'I thought that you were as up for it as I was,' she said, as mildly as she could.

'I was. I still am . . . it's just . . . just . . .'

'Last night's party,' said Angie; 'was your girlfriend there?'

'No. Nobody's girlfriends were there. It was a . . . a night of freedom. What happens at the party stays at the party; that sort of thing. We agreed that before you got there.'

'So what's with all the tears?'

Seeing that actual tears were on the verge of tricking down Karin's cheeks, Angie leant in and kissed them away.

Karin cheered up almost instantly.

'That's so sexy,' she said, breathlessly.

'What happened at the party stays at the party,' said Angie. 'Everyone else agreed; yeah?'

'Yes, they did.'

'In that case my lips are forever sealed.'

'Do you promise?'

'My word has always been my bond. Whoever your girlfriend is, I'll never tell. Now, we've got an hour before I need to split. Can you think of anything we can fill it with?'

'I really shouldn't.'

'Shouldn't and wouldn't are different breeds, aren't they?'

'I guess so.'

'Okay, so how about it?'

'It'd have to be a once-and-for-all finale.'

'That sounds good to me.'

'It does to me too,' said Karin, suddenly grinning, regrets miraculously cast to the wind.

It turned out that she could think of lots of ways to fill an hour.

*****

Sunday in the Union Bar was marginally busier than the day before (the quietest Saturday ever, in the opinion of those in the know). After filling the lulls with countless games of I Spy Joe told Angie that he was "sort of" an item with the dreaded professor.

'We're not moving in together,' he added. 'We're just seeing each other a few times a week.'

'Does being a one-woman man come into the equation?'

'That's still up for negotiation,' said Joe, looking at her hopefully.

'Good,' said Angie. 'I'd hate to think of Gloria going without.'

Joe shook his head. 'You're so cruel.'

'No I'm not. I like Gloria.'

'I wouldn't have thought she was your type.'

'Let me see. She's older, good looking and bored of her husband. She sounds exactly my type, if you ask me.'

Joe shook his head again. 'Gloria's still a month away from coming back,' he said. 'And her no-good husband's rallying round at the moment. She's quite impressed by his dedication.'

'I won't ask how you know that,' said Angie. 'Are home visits strictly legit?'

'No comment.'

After a lengthy silence (while Angie pondered on something beginning with WF), Joe spoke again.

'This fidelity business . . .'

'Not listening,' Angie said firmly. 'Honestly, Joe, I'm of no use to you that way. I'm virtually a nympho. And I'm virtually all-girl. I'll never settle down. I've got a hot date tomorrow night that with any luck will take up most of Tuesday as well. New Year's Eve and thereafter I'm back with Molly and Fiona. Then, on Saturday I'm catching a train home to spend five days and six nights with Sandra. And then, when I come back, everyone will be here, wanting to make up for lost time. My diary's going to be fuller than Adrian Mole's.'

'Sandra,' said Joe. 'That's the girl who rings on the bar line, isn't it; the one with the voice?'

Angie dug out her wallet. 'I don't usually carry photos of my girlfriends . . .'

'You'd need an album,' he said smartly, 'and a very big one.'

'I'll pretend I didn't hear that, Joseph. Here . . . get a load of her.'

Joe did a double-take. 'What are you doing with a snapshot of David Bowie's wife?'

'Look closer. That's a nineteen-year-old, not Imam.'

'Frig me,' said Joe.

'That was taken in summer,' Angie went on, 'so she was actually eighteen at the time. If anything she will look even better by now.'

'Frig me,' Joe echoed. 'And I was jealous of you and Madhu. What else have you got up your sleeve?'

'Oh,' laughed Angie, 'just the odd Brigitte Bardot lookalike. And by that I mean a lady who very closely matches the ultimate sex kitten . . . when she was in her twenties, of course.'

'Have you a photo of her?'

'No, our relationship is a little . . . illicit. Photos didn't seem wise.'

Joe shook his head yet again. 'Anyone would think you were serious.'

'I am, Joe. That's why I'm bad news.'

His laugh wasn't nearly as hearty as hers. 'Can't you pull a twenty-year-old Raquel Welsh and pass her on to me when you're through?'

'Maybe I could. But I wouldn't pass her on; I'd swap her for Professor Bitch.'

Joe rolled his eyes. 'Maybe I should keep my big gob shut.'

*****

For a second night in a row, lacking serious drinking customers, Angie was sent home early. And by tonight winter was definitely drawing in. The wind had changed: instead of a mild prevailing west-to-east, something nasty was blowing in from Siberia or perhaps even the Arctic.

Yes, something nasty boding snow and ice.

It took Angie a moment or two to work out why she was jacketless. She'd taken it off at Damien's and hadn't seen it since. Passing the halls security desk with a nod, she made her way to the second floor and headed left towards 227.

And, raising her hand to knock, stopped dead in her tracks.

Those sounds were unmistakably sex sounds: the steady slap-slapping of flesh on flesh.

Damien obviously had better things to do right now than meditate.

Stuff the jacket; she could always collect it tomorrow.

Back in 444 she checked the time. It was 10:21 and she did feel sleepy. A full night's shuteye seemed a sensible option in advance of Monday's date with the long-legged redhead.

Well, maybe she could lie abed awhile, anticipating the long-legged redhead . . .

Yes, yes, yes, please come on Eileen!

Or might she even cum on Eileen herself? The possibilities were endless.

Forgetting the prospect of sleep, she reached for her dildo of choice . . . and froze.

The rap on her door took her completely by surprise. Convinced for once she hadn't done anything to upset anyone, she answered.

It was Karin. 'My girlfriend's not back 'til tomorrow,' she said, using those eyes on Angie to the max.

Angie gulped, sincerely taken aback. 'I thought we'd had our once-and-for-all finale.'

'Yeah,' said Karin, producing her own, large and bright blue dildo, waving it temptingly, 'but we forgot to make use of the harness, didn't we?'

Chapter Six

(29th December 1997)

The "under the duvet girl" was called Nat; so Angie found out on Monday morning in the showers. Nat had, it transpired, similar concerns to Karin. In other words she didn't want her boyfriend to learn very much about Damien's party.

'Everybody's got something to hide,' Angie assured them. 'Well, everybody apart from me, and I don't do rumours. If anyone asks, I'll say I had an early night alone with a sex toy.'

'Who are you calling a "sex toy"?' said Karin, laughing.

'At least you had the sense to go somewhere private,' said Nat. 'I can't believe I made out in Damien's room; there and then, where just anyone could watch.'

'And I can't believe you didn't see what me and Angie were up to in Damien's room,' said Karin, 'right there and then, where just anyone could watch.'

'No comment,' said Angie, grinning.

*****

On her way into work Angie diverted to 227 and listened before knocking. There was no response but she was sure someone was in there; she could feel a presence.

Impatient as ever, she knocked again.

'Who is it?' a voice said from close up on the other side of the wood.

'It's me,' she said, slightly startled by the unexpected closeness. 'It's Angie. I need my jacket.'

'What jacket?' Damien replied. He sounded grumpy and not at all helpful.

'It's a denim one,' she said stoically. 'It's got a Lesbian Society badge on it.'

'Hang on, I'll get it.'

During the wait Angie became convinced there were two presences in 227. Her logic backed intuition. There'd definitely been two people in bed last night, and there was no reason for them to get up early, was there? She'd no doubt interrupted something. No wonder Damien was grumpy.

Curious to see who else was in there, she stuck her foot in the door as soon as it opened.

'Hey,' went Damien, but Angie was far stronger than him. She easily pushed him out of the way and had a look inside.

'Omigod,' she said. 'That'll bring tears to Damien's eyes.'

The androgynous buddy was a guy after all. He was on the bed, his back propped up against the wall at the head end. And his erection was simply humungous.

Yep, no wonder Damien was grumpy!

'See anything you fancy?' Buddy said in effeminate, sing-song tones.

'Sorry duck, I'm due in at work ten minutes ago; got to fly.'

Grabbing her jacket from Damien, Angie flew.

*****

Angie had fibbed about being late. She arrived at the Union Bar quarter of an hour before it officially opened, as per always when she was working. A handful of early bird customers were in, playing the video games and occupying the pool table. And the jukebox was on as per ever.