Crossing the Divide

Now, a grown woman at uni . . .

Well, she had from time to time wondered what it would be like. And, sticking to the truth theme, she’d often fantasised.

Oh all right then, in common with all the rest of the world, she’d watched the videos, impressed by the way the “actresses” undoubtedly enjoyed themselves.

Could fantasizing about something so unmistakably fun be any sort of a problem?

No, she’d decided, it couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. After all, she was open-minded. And having fun couldn’t ever be deemed as negative, could it?

Consequently she’d fantasized quite a lot.

Make that lots and lots, even if always very covertly.

Okay then: lots and lots and lots.

Heather had featured prominently in those fantasies, perhaps because she was the sexiest person on the planet, female of not.

And besides, fantasies were fantasies, weren’t they? They were an escape. They didn’t actually mean anything.

Not even when she imagined that they were . . .

Were . . .

Jumping off course, Naomi tried to look at last night through fresh eyes. She and Hev had been drunk without a doubt. All those digital images . . . prominently timed as they were . . . proved they had been together the whole evening. And, by “together” she meant “intimately together”. They’d quite obviously clicked. Jackie Collins had written less passionate novels than the hunger evidently there between the two of them.

How had it happened? That was a poser. Both of them had reputations for getting fresh and forward. She was as bad as Hev in that respect, except she always got forward with guys, while Heather was apt to grab anyone close to hand.

No, that was unfair. Heather was mostly apt to grab any girl close to hand, yet still equal opportunity, if in a begrudging sort of a way.

Forgetting the how, Naomi accepted they must have clicked. And that, having clicked, they had got on like a house on fire. Then, somehow, they had decamped to her place to down two and a bit bottles of white before stripping naked and sharing her bed, with at least one of them cumming repeatedly, like a runaway train.

In her heart of hearts Naomi knew she was the one who’d cum out of control. Heather was notoriously known as “Hurricane”, allegedly a force of nature. Last night someone had clearly gone off beyond all reason, and there was only one logical suspect as to who had benefited from the onslaught.

And why oh why all of a sudden didn’t she feel guilty for not feeling guilty?

Earlier that morning she’d been prepared to blame Heather for pressing, maybe even forcing her into sexual acts she wouldn’t normally have contemplated. But they’d been equally boozed up and they’d ended up at hers, swigging the old vino.

There wasn’t a lot of “forced” in that, was there? Not unless she’d forced Hev to accompany her.

Those cum stains were mostly hers. She just knew they were.

And whatever had happened in reality last night, she was still here, wasn’t she, still the same Naomi with no bruises or wounds, still alive, undamaged in every sense of the word.

If only she knew what had happened in reality!

If only the blinkers were off!!

Except maybe the blinkers were already off . . .

Somehow, in the most subliminal of actions, Naomi’s hand had ventured into her panties. Currently it was on her, stroking her, and her mind was filled with pictures of Heather. She tried her best to blink them away but they simply wouldn’t go.

Cumming abruptly, Naomi had a trace memory about earlier. She had woken up that morning thinking she’d had one of her rare but not unheard of wet dreams. Now she just knew Heather had caused it in a physical way, along with a whole load of other, much earlier ones.

Had she really been as deeply asleep as she’d made out? Maybe, with the benefit of hindsight, hadn’t she been faking? That great wet dream of hers had been followed by two additional orgasms, inspired by expert attention to her tits. She’d been dreamily playing along until her lover slid down her body.

Only then, when she felt springy, self-supporting boobs pressing on her thighs, had she realized who was pleasuring her.

It was a first but nobody else had boobs like that; Dolly Parton eat your heart out.

Only Hev was so well-endowed. Experience-less as she was, she’d know in an instant.

And she had reacted like a panicky little girl. Anyone with half a brain would have begged for more.

How dumb had she been, burning her bridges as she screamed and swore like a fishwife.

Another fantasy or three and Naomi realized that, amazingly, all her (non-existent) same-sex aversion had vanished, along with hordes of wraiths before dawn.

Not that she’d ever really had any aversion in the first place.

Chapter Four

Heather’s afternoon nap had been infinitely more successful. She was only roused by the tinny sound of her mobile, there on the bedside cabinet.

‘What?’ she said uncivilly, answering without checking the caller’s number.

‘Hev, is that you?’

Shit, it was Naomi.

‘It certainly is,’ Heather resumed, instantly all sweetness and light. ‘I just wasn’t expecting you. In fact I didn’t know that you had my details.’

‘Neither did I.’ Naomi sniggered. ‘You must have given me them last night.’

Heather double-clicked and sniggered with her. ‘I’ve got yours too, now I come to look. We must have swapped at some stage.’

‘Great minds think alike, no?’

‘I guess they do.’

‘That’s why I’ve been knocking out the zeds along with you. Or why I tried to knock them out, anyhow. Are you refreshed and ready for a big Saturday night?’

Intrigued, Heather considered the question from all angles. ‘Yes,’ she said cautiously.

‘I’m not so refreshed but I’m still ready for anything,’ Naomi volunteered. ‘I suppose you have a date.’

Heather didn’t usually bother with dates; opportunities arose often enough to make “dates” redundant. But, unexpected as this out-of-the-blue call was, she could recognize a gilt-edged opportunity when it smacked her in the face.

‘I’d hoped to be out with half the women’s rugby league team,’ she said as casually as she could, ‘yet as I said, I am open to other offers, and I mean it. I’ll even give you a thrashing at pool if you like.’

Naomi laughed out loud. She was the university pool champion; guys and gals. There again, Heather was probably her nearest rival. And Hev was best at darts and Space Invaders

‘I’d love to put you in your place on the pool table,’ the unexpected enchantress went on, ‘but I feel the need for privacy. How does the John O’ Gaunt sound?’

‘It sounds good to me. When have you in mind?’

‘What about half past seven?’

Heather double-checked her mobile. It was after six already, but gilt-edged opportunities didn’t come along every day, not even for her.

‘I’ll be there on the dot,’ she said decisively, ‘wearing a white carnation.’

*****

As it happened the carnation shops were all shut. Blossom-less, Heather arrived at the pub early and in some confusion. What was Naomi after? She’d talked “dates” and avoiding The Union, as if . . .

Well, as if she wanted to shag again.

Ad to Heather’s mind, massive blank spot or not, they had shagged last night. Not just early morning but extensively. If only she could remember the ins and outs . . .

Or was that a sexist thing to think? Ins and outs, indeed!

At that time of day the John O’ Gaunt was relatively quiet. Early doors drinkers were departing before the night shift came out in force. And good grief, who would believe it! Two of her few fellow-boozers were of renown.

They were Maxi and Tricia, to be precise.

Uncertain if she’d been spotted, Heather turned towards the bar, trying to hide her face. As if! Maxi was there beside her in two seconds flat.

‘This is just social,’ Maxi began. ‘Me and Tricia, I mean. But fuck me; I think this is your pull for tonight. With you denying everything! Tell that to the marines!!’

Yes, Naomi had arrived. And what an entrance! Expecting an awkward, uncomfortable night, Heather had gone for student togs: trainers, denims and a uni-branded sweat. Naomi had gone for a sliver of a skirt, sheer nylon stockings and a blouse that didn’t seem to have any buttons at all.

Just looking at her gave Heather palpitations.

Just looking at her made her somewhat damp, too.

(Not as if she hadn’t been self-lubricating ever since that unanticipated phone call, over an hour ago!)

Where oh where is this going she wondered, keeping her wildest hopes to herself.

‘I’ll leave you love birds together,’ Maxi said caustically.

‘Get back to your innocent virgin,’ Heather’s mouth countered, not engaging her brain at all.

For one second Maxi glared at her, a seasoned peace warrior prepared to fight armoured oppressors all the way to death and beyond, but then she laughed.

‘Takes one to know one,’ she said, ‘tarred with the same brush and all.’

Coming from anyone else Heather would have responded with (relatively moderate) violence. Coming from Maxi she chuckled. Both knew she was more than a match for oppressors, armoured or not.

Instead of facing Maxi off Heather offered up her fist. Maxi bumped it.

‘Solidarity, sister,’ they said as one.

Then, Heather’s nature getting ahead of her, she added, ‘Give Trish one for me.’

Not to be outdone, Maxi offered up her fist, saying ‘No, you give Naomi one for me.’

Heather bumped knuckles a little more enthusiastically than strictly required.

‘Solidarity, sister,’ she said again.

‘Same in spades,’ Maxi replied.

*****

‘Does she follow you everywhere?’

Heather blinked at that. ‘Maxi, you mean?’

‘Yes,’ Naomi persisted. ‘Everywhere I go I see the two of you. Not together, I hasten to add. It’s more like she’s stalking you.’

Heather laughed at that. She’d once had a male stalker. It had taken her two weeks and a dozen tip-offs to realize he even existed. Notified by friends, she’d literally led him down a blind alley and given him a kicking . . . but only a little one; opponents in mixed martial arts had suffered much worse.

But there again, opponents in mixed martial arts knew what was likely headed their way.

Well, most of them did.

‘So,’ Heather said aloud, ‘this is a . . . a date?’

‘I’ve reconsidered this morning’s position,’ Naomi said readily, ‘and I admit I was in the wrong.’

‘How is that?’

‘I claimed nothing happened. On second thoughts, it obviously did.’

‘Oh,’ went Heather, and left it at that.

Glancing around the bar she was grateful to see Maxi and Tricia just about as far away as possible.

‘Listen,’ she began.

‘No,’ said Naomi, ‘you listen. I’ve worked it all out. We both got ratted on the free bar and got together in the heat of the moment. I’m blaming me for that, because I’m supposed to be . . .’

‘Naomi, please . . .’

‘Shut up and listen for once. Where was I? Yes, we got together in the heat of the moment, us kindred spirits and all that. Then we danced and kissed, caressed and groped for at least another four hours.’

‘But . . .’

‘No buts. I’ve worked it all out. After the party we went back to mine. We drank lots of wine, got naked and had sex . . . you on me, I would guess . . . and I’m now sure I enjoyed it immensely. No hesitation in my estimation of that.’

‘Naomi . . .’

‘Don’t stop me when I’m on a roll. Where was I?’

‘Enjoying yourself immensely,’ said Heather, ‘or so I sincerely hope.’

‘So are we going to do it again?’

‘Do you want to?’

‘I am here, aren’t I; doesn’t that give you a clue?’ Then, her only too bright eyes skittering away from Heather’s flashing green ones, ‘unless it happens you don’t want to.’

What was that about unavoidable opportunities?

Heather nodded. ‘Go on then, if you insist’

Chapter Five

‘What suddenly makes you so sure?’ Heather asked as they sipped fresh drinks, still at a safe distance from Maxi and Tricia. ‘This morning you were totally convinced in the opposite direction; convincingly so, at that.’

‘I checked and must have found over a thousand cum stains on every item of bed linen I own.’ Naomi tittered. ‘And exaggeration aside, I had to admit someone had cum massively last night, me being the Suspect Number One.’

Recalling tastes and smells, Heather said nothing.

‘So I reconsidered my take on life, the universe and everything,’ Naomi pressed on. ‘And I played with myself as I reconsidered. You featured prominently in my thoughts. In fact you often have. Today, this early afternoon, was by no means a first time. You’ve featured very prominently before.’

Heather swigged down half a pint of best bitter. Ever the optimist, she’d never expected anything like this. And thank goodness they had picked a relatively secluded table; right then the girl seemed to be in the mood to come out with just anything.

Rapid transformation or what!

Not that Heather was likely to complain, bemused or otherwise.

‘When you say you . . . played with yourself . . .’ she ventured.

‘I meant I used my imagination. I truly can’t remember every last daydream, but I speculated at length on what you might have done to me last night.’

Naomi took Heather’s hand across the table, squeezing it tight. ‘What can you really remember?’

‘As I said before, it’s a big fat zero,’ Heather confessed, ‘But I know I had some sort of sex with you. I know all the signs.’

‘Do you really?’

‘Yes, I do, very well. I don’t need to see soiled bed linen to be positive; but I take soiled bed linen as a promising sign, more often than not.’

‘So tonight’s on, is it?’

‘You bet it is.’

‘What are you going to do to me?’

That brought Heather back down to ground. ‘Assuming you’re even remotely serious, I don’t intend to do anything you don’t want me to do,’ she said. ‘Kisses and cuddles all night is fine by me. Not kissing is okay as well, if you don’t fancy it.’

‘I fancy kissing a lot, and cuddles sound good, too.’

‘So we have a deal. My place it is, kissing and cuddling.’

‘You can go further than that,’ said Naomi. ‘This morning you put your mouth on me . . . down there.’

‘Well . . .’ Heather hedged.

‘I over-reacted before,’ Naomi confessed. ‘Playing with myself; reliving the little I could recall, was like a big awakening. I liked having your mouth on me. No, I loved it. I shouldn’t have said what I did and I apologize for the crap I came out with. I pray you’ll forgive me.’

‘I do,’ Heather said as graciously as she could, self-lubricating more copiously than ever.

‘I want it to happen again,’ Naomi persisted. ‘And this time I’ll be duly appreciative.’

Gift horse or what! ‘In that case I’m sure something can be arranged,’ Heather conceded.

‘Wait right here. I’ll get more beer, and then we can discuss the whys and wherefores.’

*****

While Naomi was at the bar Heather watched Maxi and Tricia. What a surprise pairing was that! Until that afternoon Tricia hadn’t displayed the slightest lezzie tendency, in spite of intense provocation. Yet here she was, only too evidently out on a same-sex date.

And that earlier display had been misleading, to say the least. She had clearly implied she liked girls who looked like Heather and Naomi; in other words girls with curves and looks.

Not that Heather sincerely thought herself to be beautiful. Yes, she had a mirror so knew everything was exactly where it should be. And, well accustomed to being called the best this and that, she saw a fine figure of a woman looking back at her. Tall, maned with long, straight black hair and equipped with those flashing emerald eyes, she could instantly stop any conversation dead in its tracks.

But her nose was too straight. And those self-supporting boobs of hers looked artificial, although they were one hundred and ten per cent authentic.

In her considered opinion Naomi was infinitely superior. Blessed with a dash of Hispanic blood, the girl could have graced any global catwalk. Naomi’s jet-black hair was a colour match for her own, if a lot shorter (short hair was a good idea, given her sport of choice, where the opposition was liable to snatch at anything within reach). Those bright eyes of hers flashed hotter and hotter and hotter. And best of all, she was nice.

Well, she was as nice as any rugby player ever could be. Out there on the pitch she gave as good as she got, but she always punched opponents with a winsome smile.

Nice people had always appealed to Heather; especially nice people who smelt and tasted of nectar.

Looking back towards her fellow students she supposed Tricia had been fibbing about curiosity. And that she’d been blagging about the appeal of (supposedly) girly girls. Maxi was as far from being girly as it was possible to imagine.

Well, Angie aside, she was.

As always, Heather felt a stab to her heart even thinking about dear, departed Angie. Angie was two years older than her and had graduated and gone. Appearance-wise she was a fierce skinhead who’d take no crap from anyone. Devil-like, even, but in bed she was an angel, beyond divine.

Maxi was just as masculine as Angie and also excellent between the sheets. She didn’t have Angie’s smile, though. She didn’t have the ability to magically switch from fearsome to beguiling.

Nobody did . . . or ever would.

When Naomi returned with fresh pints, acting on impulse, Heather took her turn to approach the bar. ‘Those two,’ she said to the young barman, pointing out Maxi and her new friend, passing him a fiver, ‘get them the same again, and keep the change.’

*****

Leaving the pub Heather suggested a curry without eliciting any interest whatsoever.

‘I’m low on my learning curve,’ Naomi replied, pecking her on her (too straight) nose. ‘And I don’t want tonight to be vindaloo-flavoured.’

‘I like vindaloo!’

‘So I’ve heard, but I don’t mean in passion, I mean emotionally and physically. I’m sure you can run to a snack or two later.’

Less than certain yet more than encouraged, Heather said she supposed she could.

In no time at all there they were in her bedroom, shoes deposited downstairs on the mat, kissing as if kissing had always been top of the programme.

(And, as Naomi now seemed to be writing the script, perhaps it had!)

‘Okay,’ Heather said after thoroughly enjoying her best-ever snog, ‘it’s time to get naked. One item at a time and you can go first. Best start with your blouse, since it’s been undone all evening anyway.’

To her credit Naomi didn’t hesitate. Two of her buttons were actually fastened. Undoing them took no seconds at all and there she was, high and very ripe breasts restrained by a very efficient bra.

‘Now you,’ she commanded.

Taking her time about it, Heather slowly removed her uni sweatshirt, unleashing her unfettered boobs, almost ashamed by their natural firmness, terrified her companion would see them as implants.

As if!

‘Fucking majestic,’ Naomi cried. ‘You ought to be starring in porn, alongside whatshername, Lisa Ann. I bet you’d double her earnings in no time at all. And oh my, your nips are big as thimbles.’

To Heather’s astonishment Naomi leaned in and licked her nipples, one after another, not hurrying in any way at all.

‘Time to see yours,’ Heather said finally, feeling a physical wrench as that lovely, so lascivious tongue left her.

Naomi stripped off her bra like . . . well, like a professional stripper. And, very highly excited, Heather took her turn to lick nipples.

Excited! She was drenching her panties and, if her nipples were thimbles, Naomi’s were eggcups.

As bodily introductions went, it was a good one.

‘Skirt off,’ Heather instructed.

‘No,’ said Naomi, ‘you get those jeans off first.’

Not sure why, struggling with the tight fit and needing to sit on the bed, Heather complied. Down to a pair of white ankle socks and not much of a pair of (sodden) panties, she asked Naomi to go next.