Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 17

"A lesbian is woman who loves other women," she explained.

Now Ash was shocked.

"Don't you love other women?" she asked.

"Not in that sense. Not sexually."

"Why not? Women are lovely!"

"They are but I don't have sex with them."

Ash thought about this and then asked:

"Is it because there are so many men on Earth that you don't need to have sex with women?"

"No, not really. I mean, it's not that women are second-best. It just doesn't come up on Earth the way it does here on Samothea."

"Why not? Men and women are different, aren't they? I love sex with Ezra - I really love it - but I love sex with Solange just as much. Even if there were lots of men around, I'd still want sex with women as well."

Yumi had no answer to that.

"I suppose it's just an Earth custom," she said, "especially the part of Earth I'm from. We generally keep to the same partner and having sex with anyone else, man or woman, is considered cheating."

"Even if your partner gives you permission?"

Yumi wondered at that.

"Even then. ... What did you mean when you said you asked Solange's permission?"

"Solange owns me. I have to ask her if I want sex with anyone else, and anyone who wants sex with me must ask her first."

"Solange owns you? Like property, like an animal?"

"Sort of, but much better. Don't you want to belong to someone, to have someone care for you and keep you by her, for herself?"

"Not really, not like that, though - I suppose - when I wanted to marry Michio, I thought he and I would belong to each other. ... Yes, I suppose I wanted him to own me, but I would own him just as much."

"That's nice, owning each other," Ash said in a conciliatory way, though she didn't believe it. She pulled Yumi to her and they intertwined their legs, pressing their naked breasts and bellies against one another, snuggling close to share their warmth against the freezing night air that blew through the cracks in the door of the hut as hail bounced heavily on the roof.

Ash was a simple girl. Not stupid or slow on the uptake, but open-hearted, trusting and faithful (except when it amused her to tease Solange by pretending not to be). She was certain that, sometime that month, Yumi would want to do more than just cuddle at night. She kissed Yumi on the cheek, rested her head on her shoulder and shut her eyes to sleep.

5In the Cloner City

In the Cloner City at this time, Hazel felt dissatisfied. Not unhappy, as such, but not as joyful as she knew she should be.

It was Wildchild who discomforted her; unintentionally, of course. Not that Wildchild was unhappy herself. The opposite, in fact: she had rarely been happier, laughing and joking with the Juniors, taking a real pleasure in all her new duties, now she no longer cared how silly they seemed. Wildchild was so content, she even allowed Hazel to hug her, twice a day, morning and night.

In almost every way, Wildchild was a good girlfriend. Eager to learn and keen to experience new things, she indulged Hazel's enthusiasm for clothes, jewellery and all the trivial prettifications that were the privileges of a Junior's brief career, suffering Hazel to brush her hair every day and occasionally apply make-up to her innocently pretty face. However, her hair always somehow got messed up again and the make-up accidentally washed itself off when Hazel wasn't watching.

For her part, Wildchild taught Hazel how to ride and use her bow. They tended to the horse twice a day and often took her for strenuous gallops. Now there were four Juniors, there was plenty of spare time, especially in the afternoons, when most of the councillors enjoyed a post-prandial nap and Gloria sat in her room reading.

So Wildchild was a good girlfriend but a bad bedmate. Hazel's frustration was sexual. Wildchild enjoyed kissing but she never held Hazel's hand in public and the daily hugs were brief, such as one might give a friend, not a lover.

They never slept together, not even for warmth. Sometimes, Wildchild would lie on the bed with Hazel, and they would kiss or hold hands, but when they began to doze off, Wildchild retired to her nest on the floor. Hazel blamed herself for them not yet having had sex. After all, she was the experienced one.

However, some remoteness about Wildchild held her back. Maybe it was something pure and pristine in the girl. Certainly, she was entirely innocent. She had never even masturbated. Most of the Herders enjoyed a pussy-rubbing stimulus from horseback riding; and many of them had achieved orgasm that way. But Wildchild never mentioned this. In fact, they never talked about sex, which was unprecedented for teenage girls.

The first few times they kissed properly, Hazel ran her hand along Wildchild's thigh but Wildchild didn't return the caress. Nor did she pull away. It was the same when Hazel gently passed her fingers over one of Wildchild's small breasts. Hazel imagined she was going too fast but Wildchild neither pulled back nor showed she wanted more. She was content to kiss as much as Hazel wanted but voluntarily went no further.

It was peculiar and frustrating but Hazel was a confident girl and believed Wildchild would come around eventually.

Schooling herself in patience wouldn't work for much longer, however: Hazel would be nineteen next month, after which she would leave the Juniors, reducing the time they could spend together. Hazel's problem was also complicated by something that had recently happened to make her jealous of Gloria.

It began when Wildchild was in her third week as a Junior.

At the end of the first week, Hazel and Wildchild had become girlfriends. They spent the next week always in each other's company. Hazel was flushed with love and content to wait for Wildchild to be ready for sex. Meanwhile, Jenna and Preeda were in a particularly horny mood and disappeared every night to a spare bedroom to make love. Even this didn't encourage Wildchild.

At the end of the second week, the Herders came for the monthly trade. They were led by Galatea and, when the exchanges were complete, the Juniors served them tea in the Council Hall.

Wildchild had on her frilly pink dress. Her jet hair cascaded in shiny ringlets down her neck. She entered the Chamber with a tray and presented the tea to the seated women. Then - with a barely noticeable moment of hesitation - Wildchild curtsied prettily to her mother. Galatea nodded a greeting in return and forced herself not to smile, in case her pleasure was misinterpreted. She was still walking on eggshells around her daughter. The potentially embarrassing moment passed and the meeting was a success.

After which, Wildchild always curtsied to Galatea; and Galatea smiled and nodded to her daughter. They even spoke politely.

In the third week, Gloria and Wildchild became friends.

During the quiet afternoons, while the other councillors napped and Madam Scientist tinkered in her laboratory, one of the Juniors would bring Madam Gloria a glass of fruit-juice and some biscuits on a tray to her room. As usual, the Cloner Chief sat on her sofa, reading a book.

On the day it was Wildchild's turn to bring the refreshments, she knocked and entered the apartment, carrying a tray expertly in one hand.

"Set it on the coffee table, please," Gloria said.

Wildchild put the tray down next to a chess-set with the pieces laid out for a half-finished game. While she waited for Gloria's orders, Wildchild took a look at the chess-board. It was left over from Friday night, when Gloria and Sally (that is, Madam Scientist) played their weekly game.

"Can you play chess, Samothea?" Gloria asked when she finished her page and looked up from the book.

"No, Madam."

"But it interests you? Would you like to learn the rules?"

"Yes, Madam, I would."

"Very well. Sit down and I'll show you how to play - that is, if you have no more chores to do."

"No, Madam. After this, I'm free until dinner."

"Very good."

Gloria explained the rules of chess and the movements of the pieces; then she set up the pieces to start a new game.

"Are you ready to try?" she asked.

"Yes, Madam."

"Very well. White goes first."

Half a minute later, Wildchild lost her first game of chess to a fool's mate. She wanted to try again immediately and next time did better: losing in a dozen moves.

They played another three games. Each game took more moves and more time per move, so that, by the end, Gloria could genuinely congratulate Wildchild on being a quick study and having some feel for tactics.

"Thank you for the games, Samothea. Will you put the pieces back as they were for my game with Sally?"

"Yes, Madam."

Wildchild shut her eyes, conjured up the memory and put the pieces in place. She did so unhesitatingly and unaware that Gloria was watching her closely. She had no idea what an amazing feat of memory she'd just performed; and Gloria chose not to tell her, for now.

"Would you like to play another time, Samothea?"

"Yes, please, Madam."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes, Madam."

"Then you can bring me my fruit-juice every afternoon and we will play for an hour."

Wildchild collected the tray, curtsied and left the Cloner chief to her book.

They started to play regularly and it was now that Hazel began to be jealous. Gloria hogged Wildchild in the afternoons that Hazel and she had previously shared; yet Wildchild seemed happy, telling her girlfriend how much she enjoyed learning chess. Hazel took this at face-value, but, deep inside, it made her wonder how much Wildchild loved her back. When she asked Wildchild what she thought of Gloria, Wildchild innocently replied: "I like her very much;" which didn't give Hazel any ease at all. She suffered another week of increasing discomfort.

After a fortnight of lessons, the players spent the whole session on just one game. For the first time, Wildchild played Gloria to a stalemate. Gloria smiled as she watched Wildchild restore the pieces to the places they'd been in for her game against Sally.

"So, Samothea," Gloria asked, "what should Sally's next move be?"

"Is it fair to ask me, Madam? What if Madam Scientist makes the same move, then you'll be prepared?"

"True, but I'm interested to see if there's any difference in how you and Sally see the game. If you don't want to play the move, just give me your assessment."

Wildchild looked at the board and concentrated.

"It's not your usual tactics, Madam."

"Go on."

"I know you favour your rooks. You usually protect them, but here you've sacrificed a rook for a knight or a bishop ..."

"It was the bishop ..." Gloria admitted.

"... you've made a queen-swap and you're losing four pawns to three, which you don't normally allow. ... Also, it was your right-hand rook, but you favour the right, you attack more from there than from the left. ... So I suspect you're getting ready to launch a feint from the left, using the bishop and knight, then you'll probably castle and attack down the middle."

Gloria smiled.

"Well I won't do that now because I'm sure my tactics are as transparent to Sally as they are to you. But I notice that you're seeing the game in terms of patterns, not pieces."

"Yes, Madam. I see that, now you've pointed it out. I see weak and strong areas of the board and the stance of the pieces as shapes. Your bishop and knights are a wedge threatening Madam Scientist's right corner but after you castle, they will join the rook to make an arrow down the centre. Your attack is defended by Madam Scientist's knight, rook and central pawns, making a wall."

"Very well put. I'm afraid, I'm not so gifted as you. I see the individual pieces and try to think ahead a few steps; but you're seeing the whole board. I won't be surprised in a month or two when you regularly beat me."

"Is that a psychological tactic, Madam, trying to lure me into over-confidence?"

Gloria laughed.

"No, an honest assessment. ... I'm very impressed with you, Samothea, and it's a real pleasure finding someone better than me. I play all the women here in the hope of finding a superior but the only one who plays regularly is Sally, and we're too evenly matched (and that's only because she's too impatient to really concentrate)."

Gloria leaned back on her chair and relaxed.

"Do you know that chess is a metaphor for warfare, Samothea?"

"Yes, Madam."

"But it makes you think, doesn't it? Why do the bishops move in diagonals?"

"I don't know, Madam. I don't know what a bishop is."

"A bishop is the chief of a religious sect."

It was the nearest she could explain. It reminded Wildchild of something.

"A religious sect, like a church?" she asked.

"Yes, exactly. How did you know?"

"Ezra mentioned churches when we first met."

"Well then you'll know that churches are meant to be peaceful, so why is there a bishop in the middle of the war?"

"I don't know. Please tell me?"

"The bishops were originally sailing ships and their diagonal paths represent 'tacking', which is how ships move against the wind."

"I see," Wildchild said. It made her think of the Mariners.

"Knights are horsemen, of course," Gloria added and, of course, Wildchild thought of the Herders.

"What do you think of the castles?" she asked, her large brown eyes observing Wildchild closely, waiting to see the light-bulb turn on again in the girl's head.

"A castle is a stone fortress," Wildchild said.

"Correct."

"Then how come castles can move, and why do they move in straight lines?"

"Do you know what the platform on the back of a fighting elephant is called, where the archers and spearmen stand?"

"Is it a 'castle'?"

"It is. ... So, we have ships, horses, elephants, lots of foot-soldiers (who rush forward with their spears), a king who stays close to home, whom the other side wants to capture, and a queen, a mere woman, who is the most powerful piece of all. What do you think of her, Samothea?"

"I've thought about the queen before, Madam. Chess comes from Earth, doesn't it?"

"It does."

"Then is the most powerful piece on Earth the king and is the queen the prize? Maybe we swapped those two pieces here to reflect our female society."

"An interesting theory, Samothea, but curiously wrong. On Earth, the queen is the most powerful piece and the king is the prize."

"I see. ..."

Wildchild paused to reflect on that item of information, though it made little sense to her.

"The metaphor is inaccurate," she judged, "because, in a real war, the pieces are moved by other pieces, not an outside hand."

"Very good. In fact, there is a hierarchy of command, from the General to senior officers down to junior officers and infantry."

"Is the king a General?"

"Yes."

"So it depends on who are the kings?"

"Exactly so," Gloria said.

"You're one of the kings, Madam ...," Wildchild said with conviction.

Gloria smiled, her eyes twinkling.

"... and Madam Mirselene is the other."

"Really? Mirselene? Not Solange or Calliope? Their tribes are stronger."

"But I'm a Woodlander!"

Gloria laughed. Wildchild may belong to the Woodlanders, but her pride was pure Herder.

The girl surveyed the board. She concentrated, frowning. Involuntarily, her hand hovered over a piece, as if she were going to play Madam Scientist's move for her. She stopped.

"Who's turn is it, Madam?" she asked.

"Good question, young lady. It's mine."

Wildchild smiled and withdrew her hand.

"Then I'd like to see how Madam Scientist escapes your trap, Madam."

"So would I, Samothea."

The women relaxed, enjoying each others' company in silence for a few minutes until the hour was over and it was time for Samothea to leave. She stood up and, unusually, Gloria stood with her.

"Samothea," she said, "what do you plan to do when your year as a Junior is over?"

"Return to the forest, Madam."

"Your tribal loyalty is very commendable, but your talents deserve a wider arena and a bigger audience than a dozen women and some pigeons."

"I promised Madam Mirselene."

"I understand. ... You know, you're welcome to return to the Cloner City any time you want, just to visit or to live here permanently."

"Thank you, Madam, but what would I do here?"

"Anything you wanted. Sally is very impressed by you - and she's not the only one. Besides, there's always new things to learn. Who knows what you could turn you brain to?"

Wildchild stayed silent.

"I hope you'll think about it," Gloria said; "and if you want me to speak to Mirselene on your behalf, you just have to ask. ... You know, I have a personal reason for wanting you to stay here."

Wildchild was innocent but not naive. She knew there was something very flattering behind Gloria's offer, and it wasn't just due to chess. Of course, Gloria wouldn't declare her feelings explicitly while Wildchild was a Junior under her authority. That would be improper and the Cloner Chief was stricter with herself than with anyone else; but Wildchild could see how Gloria felt.

All she could do was "Thank you, Madam;" but it got her thinking.

She wouldn't change her attitude toward Gloria. If anything, it made her admire the Cloner Chief even more; but it made her think about Hazel; about how Gloria clearly had no idea that she and Hazel were bedmates. That was something she had to change right now.

She smiled broadly, curtsied, picked up her tray and ran out of the room, seeking Hazel.

Wildchild found her girlfriend in the Junior dormitory, lying on her bed, half-relaxing, half-moping. She looked up when Wildchild came in. She smiled as Wildchild put down her tray and got onto the bed with her. Hazel sat up in expectation, then in anticipation, then in joy as Wildchild crawled over to her, cat-like, with a hungry look in her eyes.

Wildchild knelt over Hazel's outstretched legs, put her hands on her girlfriend's shoulders and pulled her forward.

Their lips met, as they'd often done before, but now there was an extra edge of passion to Wildchild's kiss. Hazel tried to control her reaction, to savour her joy, not to put Wildchild off by responding too strongly; but there was no chance of that. Wildchild now knew exactly what she wanted and wouldn't be put off by anything.

The pretty black-haired girl turned her head and kissed her beautiful blond girlfriend with an urgency and passion she hadn't used before. Eyes shut, she held Hazel tightly, their mouths pressed together, her small breasts pushed warmly against Hazel's bigger breasts, nipples hardening.

Hazel put her hands into the tight curls of Wildchild's black hair, massaging her neck, caressing her cheek. Wildchild hummed in her throat.

They kissed like this for many minutes, getting hotter, turning each other on until there was no more restraint between them.

Hazel moved a hand down to Wildchild's athletic thighs, caressing her through the thin cotton dress, gently following the contours up to her bottom. Here she discovered that Wildchild was sensitive, squirming, wriggling and twisting prettily in response to a gently fondling hand on her buttocks.

Wildchild shut her eyes and gave out an involuntary moan. She sucked in her breath and gripped her girlfriend tighter, but when she breathed out she moaned again, succumbing to a erotic tease she couldn't resist.

Wildchild was new to sex but it didn't feel to her as if sex was new: it felt like the whole world was new. Every touch made her tingle. She felt the pleasure deep inside, as a pressure in her chest, as heart-bursting thumps. She hadn't felt such happiness since she was eight-years-old and first fell in love with Tamar.

Now she was falling in love with Hazel, who was so turned on by Wildchild's sexual response that she had to take control and do more. She pushed up Wildchild's dress and caressed her naked skin, slowly exposing her thin waist, her ticklish ribs and her neat little tits with their firm pink nipples, now excited into delicious sensitivity by the rub from the cotton dress as it was gently pulled up over them and then all the way off.