Don't Go Breaking My Heart

'Makes me wish I'd been a fly on the wall,' he replied. 'Oh my God, what are you both like!'

Chapter Eight

Unusually tired, occasionally even yawning, Angie revisited her halls for the first time in a fortnight. A quick siesta was, she reckoned, somewhat overdue. Two weeks of relentless sex left one weak . . . so to speak.

And Friday night lay ahead of her like a beckoning whore.

Not that she ever thought of women as whores. Herself excluded, she only ever thought of women in positive terms.

Girls just wanna have fun, yeah?

Removing her Docs and stripping off her jeans she lay flat on her back, studying the ceiling.

And for no reason whatsoever, found herself thinking about Professor Parkinson.

Well, for no reason aside from the warm hand instinctively cupping her even warmer sex.

Officially, Angie hated the professor. She was maybe forty, wrinkle-free and far too good-looking. She also had Joe twisted around her little finger.

Unofficially, Angie liked Joe a lot. He was very much a man but it wasn't his manliness that she liked, it was him. She liked him as a person.

Perhaps she liked him too much . . . for a man.

And perhaps her hatred for the predatory bitch was overstated. She hated the cow as a person almost as much as she liked Joe. But she would never kick her out of bed.

No, right now in her vivid imagination she had the Parkinson woman beneath her, thrusting something unforgiving and very hard into her, thrusting it in deeper and deeper, again and again.

And Professor Bitch was staring up into her eyes, wailing and pleading . . . wanting more . . . wanting less . . . sounding like a banshee as she put forward both sides of the same old argument.

The head of the bed was banging against the wall as Angie pounded and pounded.

Angie could feel herself readying, could sense the edge of the only-too familiar cliff fast approaching, but forced everything back, away from the drop. Rap, rap, rap went the bed against the wall.

Fuck, fuck, fuck went Angie's vigorous groin.

Half asleep as she was, realization suddenly dawned. That rapping wasn't imaginary, it was very real.

There was someone knocking at her door.

"Open the door," Paul McCartney's voice whispered to her, "and let 'em in."

'Who is it?' Angie mumbled.

In reply her door opened and Helen stepped into the room.

'Hiya sleepyhead,' she said, 'I come bearing gifts.'

Angie's jury was out on Helen. She'd had sex with the girl but always in Madhu's company. Weird as it was, they'd only ever done threes.

That is to say, they'd only ever done threes when Angie was involved. She had reason to believe that Helen and Madhu had done plenty of twos without her.

Come to that, she had reason to believe Helen was on the prowl when it came to Madhu.

'Hello,' she said out loud, still reserving judgment. 'To what do I owe the honour?'

Helen had her back to the closed door, blatantly concealing something. Laughing and with a flourish, she produced it.

'Call me the Lost Property Department,' she said.

She was waving a red Double-Your-Pleasure strapless. Angie would have bet millions it was the one Madhu had "borrowed" from her.

And she'd have bet zillions that Helen wanted to use it.

Like imminently . . . Like just about now.

And what was that strong twitch inside her? Was it a sign of consensus from the hung jury? Was the foreperson about to give a verdict?

'Where's Madhu?' she asked, testing the water.

Helen comfortably sidestepped. Then again, she would, wouldn't she?

'She's not back until tomorrow morning,' she said airily. 'That gives us a window, doesn't it?'

The foreperson cleared her throat and shrugged. Obviously the decision was not unanimous.

Helen seemed to take silence for assent. Smiling serenely, she stripped. Still fuzzy-headed and short of sleep, Angie watched her. The girl wasn't at all bad, she had to admit. Small tits, large ass and a waist like an hour glass.

Not to mention the morals of an alley cat.

Or, tits, ass and waist notwithstanding, could she possibly be thinking about herself?

*****

Taking a new lover was always good. And, with Helen being a sort of new lover, the experience was a lot of fun. Having her individually was in its way more exciting than having her in tandem.

Or should that be having her in trandem?

Whatever it was, Angie didn't care. Helen might not have Ruby's skilled tongue but she was as eager as any girl she'd ever known; as eager and twice as forward.

Joining her on the single bed she kissed Angie deeply. Angie closed her eyes and felt the so-familiar swirling sensation. Dismissing the jury as no longer relevant, she kissed back passionately. And then Helen's hand was on her bare thigh, sliding up and tugging her panties aside.

The pony end of the red Double-Your-Pleasure was inside her before she realized what was going to happen. It felt a bit strange wearing it semi-dressed, but not disagreeable. And it felt even better when Helen gave her the world's best blowjob.

Talk about a lengthy series of peaks and troughs! Helen perpetually threw her off cliff tops but never once let her crash down to earth. No, she'd halt the fall maybe halfway down and ease her back up to the summit.

And then throw her off again, naturally.

Even lacking Ruby's tongue, she performed excellently.

All good things come to an end but that one only turned into another treat. Ripping Angie's sweatshirt off, Helen rolled onto her back and opened her legs wide.

'Fuck me,' she commanded. 'But not with that. Use your harness and the biggest dildo you've got.'

Angie's drowsiness had miraculously vanished. She'd have preferred to use the strapless toy but who was she to disobey?

'I know you're renowned,' Helen said as Angie stepped into her harness. 'And I know you've always been holding back when Madhu's around. But this is just me and you. I want you to fuck me hard and long. In fact I want you to fuck me harder and longer than you've ever fucked anyone.'

So Angie did.

*****

'Don't you want to know how I ended up with your toy?'

It was about eight in the evening, time for a break. Lying naked and embraced, Angie had been idly thinking about beer and fish and chips. The Double-Your-Pleasure hadn't featured in her musings at all.

Well, only as an option for later, after they'd been out for refreshments.

'I got together with Madhu over Christmas,' Helen went on. 'She invited me to her mother's for three days. And what house that was! It must have had ten bedrooms, all of them taken up by friends and relatives.' She laughed. 'Fortunately Mrs Khan is a modern woman. She didn't mind me sharing with Madhu.'

Angie was surprised by the sudden stab of envy.

'Anyway,' said Helen. 'Three days wasn't enough so I invited Madhu to my mother's for the next week or so. Mum was away, you see. It would have been madness not to, wouldn't it?'

Having "house minded" with Sandra under similar circumstances Angie couldn't argue with that. She could, however, feel herself alienating from Helen. She was being far too smug and matter-of-fact.

And Madhu was sweet and innocent. What oh what was she getting into?

Madhu had brought her teddy with her to uni, for God's sake! Of course she was innocent!!

'I couldn't believe it when Mrs Khan took me aside,' Helen said, chuckling throatily. 'She is seriously sexy, by the way. Have you met her?'

'I have once; when Madhu was moving in to 443.'

'Did you want to fuck her?' Helen immediately answered her own question. 'Of course you did. You're mission is to fuck every lez on the planet, isn't it? Anyway, she took me aside and told me Madhu has no secrets from her. And that she understood I was more than just a friend.'

'Hmmm,' went Angie.

'Madhu's going to want to talk to you when she's back,' Helen continued. 'She's got big news. We're going to be an item from now on.'

Omigod, thought Angie, worser and worser!

'Do you mean like loyal and faithful to each other?' she ventured.

'That's what she wants.' Helen hunched her shoulders.

Resisting an impulse to throttle the girl, Angie asked: 'And what do you want?'

'I want to nail Madhu as often as possible. Three times a week was okay, but not enough. From now on it's going to be six or seven. Is that cool or what?'

'That's not what I meant,' Angie said through gritted teeth. 'I meant do you want to be loyal and faithful too?'

'I can take it or leave it. I mean opportunities arise, don't they? Never say never and all that.'

'Is that what you agreed with Madhu; that you'd never say never?'

'Not in so many words. But what she doesn't know can't hurt her, can it?'

Deep down Angie supposed Helen believed they were two women of the world, batting a bit of breeze after consensual sex; that her infamous record of bed-hopping made her a heartless cow, amused by the idea of some innocent wanting commitment. But Angie was far from heartless.

And she loved Madhu like the sister she'd never had.

'Did you come here on purpose?' she growled.

'What?'

'Did you come to my room deliberately, to get one over on me? Or perhaps even to get one over on Madhu?'

'No.' Helen looked genuinely bemused. 'It's just obvious we won't be doing threesomes anymore. So today seemed like our one and only chance. You and me, I mean, without you-know-who. Plus I didn't half fancy getting nailed.'

By that point everything about Helen was annoying Angie. From her overall, carefree attitude to the way she said "lez" and "nailed". Okay, Angie knew she was the last person with a right to complain about language used by others. To her the least acceptable four-letter word was usually "love".

But not right now.

'Get out of my room,' she snarled.

Helen got off the bed but didn't leave. 'Hey,' she said, 'what's with you? Today was no more than light entertainment, not something heavy. No need for Madhu to know, is there?'

'Listen to me,' Angie replied. 'If you ever hurt Madhu in any way, I will kill you. And that's a promise.'

'Oh my God,' Helen exclaimed, 'you're jealous!'

'Get out of my room.'

Helen picked up her clothes but made no effort to put them back on. 'I can't believe it,' she practically sneered. 'You could have had her all to yourself but you wanted your freedom. You didn't realize that you wanted her. But now she's gone, you do. How ironic is that!'

'It's ironic enough to get you a broken arm,' said Angie. 'You've got three seconds.'

Opening the door bare-assed, Helen still lingered.

'I won't tell,' she said, 'about you forcing me to have sex this afternoon, I mean. If you keep mum then so will I. But if you blab, I'll expose you as a sexual predator. And Madhu knows what you're like.'

'I forced you!'

'That's the way I'll spin it, my word against yours. If I have to, that is . . . If you don't see reason.'

Helen sneered again then, seeing Angie's ferocious expression, exited hastily, stage right.

And Angie, convinced her world had just ended, buried her face in her hands.

Meanwhile, in the back of her mind, Elton and Kiki were off again.

"Don't go breaking my heart . . . I won't go breaking your heart."

Too late, though. It was already broken.

Angie hadn't cried since she was twelve. Following a knock to her head she'd lost her hair overnight, fallen out, never to properly grow back.

From having a luxurious back mane flowing halfway down to her ass she'd suddenly been very much a fully-fledged skinhead.

Her one claim to glamour snuffed out, just like that.

Not that she cried now.

No, somehow holding back the tears, she merely sobbed.