Dottily Ready For More

In contrast I preferred sexy babes . . . At least I thought I did, one big butch bouncer aside.

'I'll tell her you're interested,' I told Martha. 'In Robin, I mean.'

'So Ms Three Times in Twenty Minutes is Robin, is she?'

'Yes, she is.'

'And you'll be seeing her tonight?'

It was my turn to seesaw my hand, mentally crossing my fingers. 'Ziggy's on tonight,' I said aloud. 'I might go leer at her a while. But Robin will be working (what a porkie!) so she won't be a factor.'

'Naturally,' Martha purred. 'Apart from fucking you again in the ladies' she'll hardly be there at all, will she?'

I did my best to come up with a pithy response and failed miserably.

'You've worn me out,' I mumbled. 'Perhaps I'll watch Strictly and have an early night . . .'

Chapter Four

Martha effed off for her frigging inconvenient hockey match around one o'clock. Very much at a loose end, I wandered back to campus and dined in the Union Bar on pie with mushy peas and lashings of beer.

Not to mention two spoonsful of delicious mint sauce.

(On my pie I mean, not in my pint: I'm not a complete heathen.)

Saturday afternoons in the Union were creepily quiet compared to weekdays, which were rowdy to say the least. Replete with food but still needing more fluids I sat and mused.

Just how much of a slut was I? Without arguing the toss whether Michelle had deserted me or not, I had jumped straight into another's arms without pause for thought.

No, I had jumped straight into two other's arms without pause for thought.

As I moodily stared into my slowly settling pint of best bitter someone approached me.

'May I?' she asked politely.

I recognized her as a prominent local lezzie (the Union Bar was full of them; there might possibly have been more in there at any one time than there ever was in The Pride).

Except now it wasn't more of "them"; it was more of "us". I'd crossed the divide once and for all.

'Please do,' said I, hoping to match the girl for politeness. She was my sort of age, punky but very pretty with a shiny stud in her tongue. No doubt about it: I found her attractive.

And what would shiny stud feel like on my . . .

'Alone in a crowded room,' she said, talking a seat opposite me.

'It's not so crowded.'

'Sorry, but that's my favourite opening line. Shall I try starting again?'

As if on cue my mobile rang. Expressing sincere apologies, I answered it.

'It's me,' Michelle began without preamble. 'Where are you?'

'In the Union,' I replied, 'about to be chatted up by a girl who looks a lot like Lisbeth Salander.'

Michelle wasn't noticeably worried. 'Have you inspected her dragon tattoo?'

'Not yet. She's only just sat down.' Then, as "Lisbeth" rolled her sharp blue eyes: 'Where are you?'

'I'm in a pub opposite Treliske Hospital. Well, actually it's half a mile down the road, but it's decent and nearest. Ten times as expensive as the centre of London, though. They don't half know how to rip off tourists down here.'

'The locals will get discounts,' I volunteered, 'their pints will only cost a pound.'

'What, a pound?' Michelle laughed out loud. 'Trust me, babe; you don't even get a pound in your change from a fiver in there parts.'

'How's your ex?' I asked as Lisbeth re-rolled her eyes.

'They're still a bit concerned about her leg, but she's in good spirits.'

'And she's speaking to you?'

'She cried when I showed up. And yes; she's speaking to me. In fact she seems delighted to see me.'

I ground to a halt at that. Without a punky companion I might have made early enquiries about the ins and outs of our "relationship". Watched as I was by those sharp blue eyes, I didn't dare.

'So her leg is looking good?' I asked, foolishly.

'Her leg's in a cast and suspended in the air,' Michelle replied tartly. Then she laughed again and let me off the hook.

'The prognosis is much more promising now. Even Claire's stopped fretting . . . unlike the mother from hell.'

'Ronnie's mother is there, then,' I said, aware Michelle hated the woman.

'You bet she is. And the crash was entirely my fault. If I hadn't split with Ronnie she wouldn't have been on the A30 There again, if I hadn't been such a bitch, she'd have had a different life altogether. If I did not exist she would have been somewhere else and safe as houses.'

'Ronnie's mother sounds like the Wicked Witch of the West, except nastier.'

'Trust me, Dotty: she gives wicked witches everywhere a bad name. I could swear that she hopes Ronnie loses her leg, just so she can blame me.'

'You can't possibly be to blame.'

'Don't introduce reason or logic when it comes to that cow. She makes her own rules.'

Lost in the labyrinth, I asked what happened next.

'I'm going back for evening visiting later on. And I'm heading north first thing in the morning.'

'Where are you overnighting?' I couldn't help but wonder.

Don't ask what answer I expected. Whatever it was, I got one out of deep left field.

'Claire has booked a B&B. I'm going to stay with her.'

'Claire?' I echoed.

'She's the girl who tipped me off about the accident in the first place. My old buddy from Bath. She was here when I arrived. And the Wicked Witch hates her almost as much as she hates me. Let's just say we've formed an alliance.'

'Not groin-to-groin,' I said thoughtlessly.

'Not yet,' she replied with a chuckle. 'But there's even less choice of escorts down here than there is in Bristol. All these nearby ports and no girls! What's that all about?'

would have gone into more detail but I didn't want Lisbeth's eyes to pop out of her head. Hearing one half of the conversation seemed to be affecting her. And my half was the modest half.

'Do I need to tell you to behave yourself,' I asked instead.

'Don't worry about me, Claire and a double bed.' Michelle chuckled again. 'Between you and me, she's become Ronnie's best friend. And she's done it since I've been off the scene. We're rivals in a way, but not deadly rivals. My chances are slim.'

'Keep off the 0898 numbers.'

'I will. Give Ms Salander one for me. Bye.'

And Michelle was gone before I could reply.

As I rang off Lisbeth rose to her feet.

'Something I said?' I wondered.

'Yes, something too complicated for me. Let's resume at a later date.'

I looked at her small buds of breasts and felt loss.

'My life isn't always going to be complicated,' my mouth said.

Lisbeth laughed in parting. 'Want to bet?'

*****

Common sense told me my best option was to go home, catch up on lost sleep. Instead I went home, showered and dressed like a whore. Well, hopefully like a tasteful whore. I know I mentioned "sultry" a while ago but then I was referring to conditions in my bed. Outside it was warm for the time of year but far from sultry of an evening.

Consequently my attire wasn't entirely appropriate for a breezy October night.

Not according to Puritan opinions, it wasn't.

Fully aware that I shouldn't be doing it, fully aware that I had given Robin half a promise, and fully aware Michelle was spending a night with some "buddy from Bath", I tricked myself out in my shortest leather dress and my sexiest shiny black over-the-knee boots,

My halter top wasn't much less revealing, come to that.

Come to that it couldn't have revealed more if it tried.

Applying (by my standards) an excessive amount of eyeshadow and just a relative hint of lipstick I called myself good.

Well, I was good for something, anyway.

To tell the truth and shame the devil: I won't say I was provocative but I had seen a few porn stars looking more ready for a Sunday morning in church.

Not that I watch porn videos. Honest!

Digression over; back to the tale.

So, tits mostly out, wearing a too-tight top but otherwise clad in shiny black leather and alone for once, I made my bold way to The Pride.

Signs advertising Ziggy were everywhere. I'd never noticed so many signs before. Tiger Lily didn't get nearly so many. And Tiger Lily bared all, for God's sake . . .

A bit like I would if anything slipped so much as an inch.

When I got there it was early. Someone was due on as a warm-up but, as yet she was nowhere to be seen.

Fortunately, and to my great delight, Robin was there to be seen, standing at the bar and casually dressed. Her ailing friend had obviously recovered so she was on a night off, drinking large whites.

My approach was always intended to be full-on. So far she'd made all the running and I wanted to be seductive if nothing else. Seductive and then submissive. I guessed both were in the script and did not have a problem with that.

And casual dress for Robin only made her look better.

Tonight, instead of her distinctive "uniform" of mostly black with a bow tie she was in fashionably slashed blue jeans and a man-sized, very well-ironed white shirt.

The sight of her tanned flesh through those fashionably slashed denims weakened my knees.

How fit is she! I thought, and not for the first time.

Chapter Five

'Fancy seeing you here,' I began, subconsciously thinking of Lisbeth, wishing I had a catchier opening line.

'Just fancy,' Robin replied, eying me, her expression neutral.

'Frances recovered then?' I asked, waving to yet another punk barmaid, indicating the same again times two.

'Yeah, but her judgment's lacking. She just let you in, didn't she?'

'She must have liked my boots,' said I. 'Do you?'

Robin redirected her gaze away from my face, almost tangibly passing over my tits and down to my feet.

'Yeah,' she admitted, 'I like them a lot.'

I paid the barmaid and swigged vino. Confidence bolstered, I asked Robin if she was cool with me being here in her place of work.

'Maybe I'd prefer somewhere else,' she said. 'But you're here to see Ziggy.'

The warm-up act was on stage as she spoke. She looked like Kate Bush but didn't sound like her in the least . . . as if anybody possibly could. And it wasn't as if the girl even tried. No, she sang what I assumed to be Britney covers in a modern pop way.

Big disappointment or what!

Forgetting the long-haired songstress, I put my mouth close to Robin's ear.

'Here's the latest news,' I whispered, 'I'm not here for either of the acts; I'm here for you.'

Robin downed her new drink in one and favoured me with one of her rare smiles.

'In that case let's go,' she said.

As always her smile captivated me. Tall, strong and transformed into incredible beauty, what was there not to like?

I swigged off the rest of my pinot with alacrity.

'Take me away from here,' I said. 'Take me anywhere. No, bugger that, just take me . . .'

*****

I can't credit how corny those last few words sound. But when I did say them I meant every syllable from the bottom of my heart. And, for the record, I had no thoughts for Michelle at all. Or for Martha, come to that. As far as I was concerned I was a free agent. Michelle was in a B&B having sex with a girl called "Claire", who just happened to be her supposed rival! As if!!

And Martha was paying for Michelle's car-loan in the most fundamental way of all. Looking at life like that, why shouldn't I be footloose?

Michelle was also determinedly avoiding all discussions about "us", "relationships" and anything in general along those lines. She had even encouraged me to have a go at "Ms Salander" . . . a girl she had probably never even seen.

Added in to the equation, Robin really was sex on legs.

If I was exaggerating as per usual, I'd say my head was in turmoil as we left The Pride. It wasn't. I was more sexually excited than ever, but my head was fixed solely on want.

I wanted Robin so badly it hurt.

Two female doorpersons nodded at us as we passed.

'That was fast,' one of them said, not trying to pretend to hiss an aside.

Knowing they were teasing their workmate I jumped in before Robin could respond.

'I'm a fast worker, me. I've always an eye for the main chance.'

'You might have bitten off more than you can chew.'

'That might be the way I like it.'

Both bouncers crowed, momentarily dropping their tough, professional personas.

'Go for it Rob,' one cried, 'give the girl what she wants.'

'Watch your ass,' added the other, 'this one isn't quite as innocent as she looks.'

I didn't know whether to take that last comment as a compliment or an insult. But who in her right mind would argue with two ginormous doorpersons? I laughed along with them and let Robin lead me by the hand down the street and into another pub.

I don't really want another drink,' I told her. 'You know what I want.'

'One drink,' she said, stern as ever. 'I want to talk.'

'I want to fuck,' I replied, surprising myself . . . and somewhat shocking myself too.

Heading for the bar Robin gave me another of her only-too rare smiles. 'I guess that is apparent. Worry not; it is going to happen. In the meantime let's chat. Get to know each other . . . let's do girly things like that.'

*****

Don't ask what we chatted about. I sincerely do not know. Maybe it was girly or maybe my supposedly seductive front was as transparent as glass. All I do remember is me constantly asking Robin to take me home to her bed and, at last, thank all the gods, she finally said yes.

'It's early,' she told me, 'but you're very persuasive.'

'Screw persuasive,' said I, just like a heroine in one of my big sis's Jane Austen novels (not!), 'why don't you just club me and carry me off over your shoulder?'

'Because I respect women,' Robin replied. 'To be quite honest I love all women, whether they are straight or not. Clubbing a girl isn't ever gonna happen.'

'What if she wants to be clubbed?'

'Still isn't ever gonna happen.'

'What about a passive arrest?'

'What do you mean?'

'What about skipping the foreplay and just carrying me off over your shoulder?'

That rewarded me with yet another endangered smile.

'I suppose that could be arranged,' she conceded.

Yet again I drained my glass.

'Thank fuck for small mercies. Let's go for it!'

*****

Robin's cottage was off the cover of a chocolate-box. Even in an advanced state of arousal I admired the mullioned windows and thatched roof (okay, so I am lying about that roof!). But it was marvellously unexpected and feminine. And stepping into her bedroom was mind-blowing.

Unlike the rest of her home, her bedroom was modern yet stylish. I loved it on sight.

Not that I wasted much time on sightseeing . . .

By then we were both pawing at each other. I still expected to be submissive but frankly could not wait. Slightly less forward than she had been the night before, Robin kissed me, in a sweet, endearing way.

And just how endearing was that! Last night she'd been all hunger and passion. Now haste wasn't a factor. Now she was slow, hot and thorough.

There went the muscles in my legs again. How good was she!

How better than good.

Breaking off the best embrace ever, she gripped my halter top and pulled it up and over my head. And then, seamlessly, she unhooked my bra.

Like wow! I did that every day but no way as efficiently as her!

'Gorgeous tits,' she said before munching on them deliciously.

I moaned and groaned and sounded like the girls in those videos. (You know; the one's I allegedly don't watch).

'Anything,' I gasped, 'anything, anywhere. Just make it soon.'

Robin responded by unfastening her shirt and I nearly died. Well-developed babe or what? Every last thing about her was perfection.

On first sight her tits looked enhanced. On closer inspection I realized that her pecs were stronger than strong. She was self-supporting and looked fantastic for it. Penthouse pets couldn't hope to look nearly so good.

Very few of them were as deeply tanned, either. As well as working out like a demon she had to be a sunbed freak par excellence.

As for the rest of her . . . well fuck me and say thanks. Although her shoulders were twice as wide as mine she seemed tall rather than broad. In other words she must have trained so she looked good as well as felt good. And hadn't she trained! Her arms made Charles Atlas look like a wimp, and don't get me going about her six-pack.

You already know that I have fucked a few men in my time. But I'd never fucked anyone with a body like hers. And yeah, I'm taking all aspects of body-shape into account. Women are much sexier, obviously. But very few men could compete with Robin when it came to visual impact.

When it came to first impressions the girl was immense.

Chapter Six

Robin wanted me to keep on my boots. I cheerfully obliged. One fleeting glimpse of her pussy would have persuaded me into anything. A short, inverted pyramid of blonde-white, deliberately pointing downn to the gates of Paradise itself . . .

Resisting the invitation wasn't an option. Forgetting submissive, I sank to my knees and ate her.

And ate her and ate her.

How delightful was that!

Finally, after ages of mutual excess, she tensed and then convulsed.

I mentally squealed along with her. By then I'd expected to have been royally fucked. Bringing her off instead was a massive bonus.

'Knickers,' she commanded, assuming control. 'Make them history.'

I obeyed like the keenest grunt in the class.

'I'm boss from now,' she said sternly (yet still visibly trembling). 'Got that all right?'

'Got it good,' said I, stepping out of the garment in question, quite efficiently avoiding snagging on my boot heels.

'Awesome,' she crooned. 'Get on your ass on the bed this second. And keep those frigging boots on, whatever you do.'

As if I was likely to resist!

*****

Having sex with Rob was an experience to remember. And yes, she became "Rob" as soon as she hit on my clit.

What a tender touch!

How brilliant was she!!

By now you know me and my reluctance to compare. Keeping up appearances, let's just say that Rob was skilled beyond belief.

Trust me; Robin soon proved she didn't tell lies. Older women truly were much more experienced; yes, much more experienced by at least a million miles.

After letting me eat her she went down on me. Then she gave me a mistress class in tribbing. And then she surprised me with an induction class in scissoring.

I'd never done scissoring before and had heard that it felt awkward and uncomfortable. But take it from me: not with Rob it didn't. With Rob it felt spectacular . . . almost as good as having her on top of me, rubbing all of her sex on my hungry clitoris, making me cum and cum.

Finally, after taking me through all seven heavens, winding up face-to-face, me with my boot-clad legs wrapped around her, she came. And maybe as long as five minutes later, she stopped all of her grinding and groaning, shrieking and moaning.

Trust me, mere videotape couldn't do her justice. You had to have been there.

'Splendid,' she gasped. 'Do you like strap-ons?'

I dithered a moment, although I didn't relax the grip of my legs on her. Rob was an exceptionally strong woman and I was in her home, practically at her mercy. In my murky past I'd have never gone to a strange guy's home so readily. And only last night she'd vigorously fingered me. What if she was vigorous again? What if she was too vigorous by far?

Then again, nothing that had happened so far had been in any way objectionable. She'd proved she could be strong and caring at the same time.

Trusting her, I nodded. 'I like penetration,' I said softly. ''You can if you want.'

Rob untangled her gorgeous body from my clutches and walked across her bedroom, stopping at a wide set of drawers and rooting about inside the second one down.

'Which would you prefer?' she asked, holding up dildos.

I laughed out loud. I'd already been through this conversation with Michelle, but she only had two to choose from. Rob was holding up four and she'd been rooting a while. I got the impression she had more options if needed.