Hazel X for Sex

'Come on Sweetness,' she said to Wendy, 'you promised me lots of jiving. Let's start as we mean to go on.'

'I'll see you two later,' said Wendy, not resisting the tug on her arm at all. 'Don't do anything I wouldn't do.'

'Get me the fuck out of here,' snarled Amy, draining her glass and depositing it on top of the juke.'

'It's still early,' I protested. 'Donna's show won't be on the road yet.'

'Fuck whether it is or it isn't. I need to get out of here like yesterday. Coming with me or what?'

Rejecting the opportunity to play on words . . . my best amigo clearly wasn't in the mood . . . I swigged down the last of my wine. 'Okay,' I conceded, 'whatever you say.'

*****

We stopped at a nearby Tetley's pub which was full of Leeds Rhinos supporters. At least it was for about five minutes then suddenly they were all gone. 'Kick off must be approaching,' I said to Amy, 'unless you've scared them all out of here.'

That comment could have gone down either way. As it was Amy laughed. 'You,' she chided, 'taking me in a place like that! And dressed for a rave, to boot! Anything could have happened to us.'

'I suspect we were safer in there than we are in here. Didn't you see all those broken noses?'

'Rugby players are big pussycats. Believe me; I've had more than one. As for Wendy, well what can I say?'

'You could admit she has a fine eye for blondes; was that Miss Gorgeous 2008 or what!'

'I'm starting to worry about you, Hazel X. All those sleepovers we've had! Have you been molesting me all along, while I've been zonked out?'

'You know I'd never do anything like that. And you know as much about my sex life as I do.'

'Hmmm, I thought I did . . .'

*****

Leaving the more traditional boozer we made our way to Donna's venue. It was a massive pub with a large function room and attached nightclub. Apart from celebrating our friend's big day there was the added bonus that function attendees could transfer to the nightclub free of charge up until ten thirty. The plan was to do exactly that and get a taxi home in the wee, wee hours.

But circumstances soon conspired against us.

Donna and her mother were by the entrance, shaking hands with arrivals, swapping air kisses. Letting Amy take the lead I duly shook mum's hand then surprised the birthday girl by giving her a smackeroo squarely on her mouth, letting it linger for maybe a whole second.

'Don't ask what's got into her tonight,' Amy said with a shrug, 'maybe it's a phase of the moon.'

'It's a nice phase if it is,' said Donna, taking her turn to surprise me. 'Let's dance in a while, when they put on the smooches.'

'Donna!' her mother exclaimed.

'I'm of age now,' she replied.

'You've been of age for the last two years.'

'So where's your problem?'

Leaving them to bicker and greet more guests we went into the function room, and as it was my round I bought us more vino. But, when I turned to pass Amy her glass, I found her knee-deep in Brian.

As a point of order, there had never been a formal relationship between me and Brian. We'd steadily gone from snogging at parties to screwing on three separate occasions, but only ever as buddies. For my part I hadn't wanted a "proper boyfriend" and would have hated to have "commitments". It seemed to suit him as an arrangement, too, so why not?

In other words we hadn't fallen out or split up because we'd never sworn oaths or vows. Far as I was concerned my buddy had every right to chat up other women, my best amigo included.

And, whether he knew it or not, Amy fancied him something rotten. I could see her eying me, hoping for a nod or a wink.

Quite sadistically, I made Amy wait, joining in the chitchat, not objecting when Brian focused more on her but never giving him an absolute monopoly. Finally, after a couple of drinks, he excused himself to go "pay a call".

'Jaysus girl,' Amy gasped as soon as he was gone. 'He's all over me like a rash.'

'Really,' said I. 'Can't say I've noticed.'

'Liar, liar, liar,' she chanted. Then leaning in and lowering her voice: 'I'd love to. You know that, don't you? I won't if you don't want, though. It's up to you. Say no and I'll blow him out straightaway.'

What another glorious chance for repartee! Heroically letting it pass by, I grinned at Amy. 'Do it by all means. But promise to give me all the nitty-gritty details tomorrow. Like every last one.'

Chapter Four

The next few hours passed with me circulating, which was easy to do inside a crowd of close mates. And we all really were close for those last two beyond glorious years. Maybe we were one-offs but, in my Sixth Form, we were all musketeers: all for one, and all that.

Not that there wasn't a degree of protocol involved. Take the party invites, for example. Mine would say "Hazel and friend" while Amy's would say "Amy and friend" . . . although everyone knew we would arrive together. In other words it was an exercise in political correctness.

In theory a few hundred of us could double an attendance by bringing along an uninvited mate. But in practice that never happened.

In practice I'd go with Amy, full stop.

What I'm trying to say is that our parties were always attended by the same crowd. Only a handful of invitees brought outsiders as guests, usually in the form of a boyfriend or girlfriend who'd already left school. Yes, outsiders did attend, but not often. . . . And they were not always truly welcome.

Where was I?

Oh yes . . . Relaxed about Amy being with Brian . . . anticipant of tomorrow's detailed report . . . I did my best to slow down alcohol consumption and did the rounds.

Believe it or not, I've always been a people-person. I like taking to anyone and everyone.

Lucy and Kris tested me, however.

Didn't they just!

Lucy and Kris were yet another of our school's limited number of lesbian pairings. And three seconds of listening to them transfixed me.

Somehow . . . who knows how . . . they'd been present in The Sun without me noticing that they were there. Somehow they had identified me as an eager beaver and asked me to go home with them, post haste.

Like home into a very sexual all-female three.

Leastways Lucy did . . . and she was supposedly the girly one, not the one calling the shots!

'Amy doesn't really give a toss but you do,' she assured me. 'And so do we; girl oh girl, the things that we can do for you!'

Deflecting without dismissing, I cunningly escaped making an immediate decision. Which was natural, no? Right then I'd had just a single one second kiss and sod all other experience with girls.

Hell, I'd barely had more experience with guys . . .

And now a proposal; a three-in-a-bed proposal . . .

Call me chicken but cluck, cluck! Lucy and Kris might have been teasing but could I really be sure?

And why was Kris visibly salivating?

'Maybe next week,' I said as I made exit, stage left, leaving them cackling in my wake.

By then the time was approaching ten o'clock and my circulating enthusiasm had waned. Well, maybe it had and maybe it hadn't. Part of my brain had had enough . . . the rest was curiouser than ever.

Three in a bed, I marvelled, isn't two in a bed yummy enough?

And who has ever had sex in a bed!

How scrumptious must that be!!

If only it was me!!

Recovering myself to a degree, at least, I avoided Maxi and Liz (rightly or wrongly expecting more of the same) and exited the function room, using a long, narrow passageway to get to the night club.

'Ticket please,' said a rather sexy, very butch female doorperson.

I gave her my invite and she grinned at me. 'Why Hazel,' she said, 'with no friend! How could that be?'

'I'm still hoping,' my mouth said of its own volition.

'Me too,' the bouncer replied. 'Any problems just yell "Trish" and I'll be there.'

'You expect problems?'

'Not in here. This is a class joint. Your only problem will be in fighting them all off, boys and girls. Give me a yell and I'll come a-running.'

'But . . .

'Dressed as you are, with nine-mile-long bare legs and an ass that, that . . . Put it this way, babe, you are going need some help. And I'm as unbiased as it's ever likely to get.'

I smiled back at her, unnerved by the sexy/butch combination, unnerved by the idea of having to fight off fellow females . . . but nevertheless intrigued by her obvious admiration.

'I'll call if the situation demands,' I assured her.

'Make sure you do and worry not. I'll be watching anyhow.'

*****

My time in the nightclub was not prolonged. At a first glance I didn't know a soul in there. There was an absence of lighting and the DJ was playing Michael Jackson. Not that I'm criticising Jacko in any way. I'm criticising the DJ, who'd selected something prehistoric, something Jacko himself probably would have struggled to remember.

Most likely it was the DJ trying to seem hip. Then, to make a bad job worse, he followed up with Disco Duck (I mean who possibly remembers that!).

Not at home with the throbbing blue lighting and inconsistent sounds, I arrived at the bar, only to hear the girl in front of me be charged over three pounds for a pint of Carlsberg.

That made me reel back in horror. Bar prices were, of course, very variable. Back in the function room I would have been charged half as much. Yet it was the same suds out of the same beer cellar.

Borrowing a spare eff word from Amy, this was way out of fucking order!

For the avoidance of doubt, just then I was still flush with "birthday money" of my own. But I was also a habitually penniless student. Paying double for a pint was not a viable option, free entry or not.

Put it in perspective, our local Wetherspoons might not be the greatest pub in the world, but they did not double prices from one bar to another. Indeed neither did any of my other local boozers.

Glancing around I decided the nightclub was not for me. And that was before I spotted Amy and Brian dancing closer than close. Knowing Brian as I did, I was aware such intimate contact would have long since made him hard. Not that Amy seemed concerned. She was the one most obviously keeping the two of them closer than close.

'What can I get you?' an admittedly good-looking barmaid asked me.

Waving her off, I bypassed the so-sexy bouncer and headed back for the function room. My intention was to beg a lift home, catch the last bus or else thumb it.

But before I knew it I was nose-to-nose with Wendy.

Yes, Wendy.

Out of frigging nowhere!

Chapter Five

'Where's Miss Gorgeous 2008?' I wondered, noting the blonde's absence before putting my brain in gear.

'She's had what she wanted,' Wendy replied. Then, grinning salaciously: 'So have I, come to that. At least I've had all I want from her tonight. That's why I'm here, looking for you.'

I would be lying if I tried to pretend my heart didn't speed up at her words. 'Looking for me,' I echoed, 'why is that?'

'Why do you think? And where's Amy?'

'Back in there,' said I, gesturing over my shoulder with my thumb, 'rubbing off against Brian.'

'Brian?' Wendy sniggered. 'That must be awkward for you. Isn't it a bit of a . . . well, a bit of a conflict?'

'No it isn't, not at all. I've given Amy the green light.'

*

'I meant isn't it awkward giving Amy away, not the other way around.'

Wendy had sneakily drawn in on me as we spoke, and we had not been so far apart to start with. Just then I could feel her breath on my cheek, smell the essence of her.

Any nearer and she'd be kissing me . . . or I'd be kissing her.

'What's the plan?' she asked. 'You're clearly not impressed with the club.'

'You've got it in one. It's twice as expensive in there as it is at Donna's party. I'm going to beg a lift off someone and head for home.'

'That might not be easy; most cars are already full. And what about Amy; how's she getting home?'

'She's always found a way before,' I said drily.

'We could catch a bus. You and me, I mean. If we leave now we can be in The Pride by eleven. And they don't shut until late tonight.'

The Pride was one of the hometown pubs that Adrian had steered me away from. That is to say he'd not named names but everyone knew it was a gay bar, even me. Its reputation was . . . well, not very auspicious.

'You're making it sound like a . . . like a date,' I ventured.

'Hey girl,' she countered, moving in closer still, 'you've just come out and I'm ready to welcome you.'

'I didn't know you were out,' I replied, somewhat lamely.

'Well I'm here, large as life. Are you coming with me to The Pride or what?'

The sensible option would have been to delay. But that disengaged brain of mine had other ideas.

'Okay,' my mouth said, 'let's bid Donna goodnight and go for the bus.'

*****

Bidding Donna goodnight took longer than I'd expected. I'd neglected to give her that smooch and she had not forgotten. So Wendy had to wait, irritably tapping her toes while we waltzed around the dance floor to the strains of Girls Aloud . . . not that Girls Aloud actually qualified as "waltzing" . . .

Arriving at the bus stop with military precision . . . oh, all right then, making it at the very last moment, fluking it before we were stranded, left high and dry . . . we took a seat near the back of the last public transport of the day.

And Wendy kissed me.

Jaysus, as Amy would have exclaimed! How good was that!!

I don't think I'm qualified to debate the difference between kissing a girl and kissing a guy. But fuck my old boots . . .

Kissing a guy couldn't hold a candle to Wendy. Her lips were . . . were . . .

Well, they were incredibly soft yet astoundingly powerful as well. Even now I am unsure if it was just the touch. Perhaps it really was magic. Perhaps we had both been born for this.

In all honesty I had never been so excited in all my life.

Not ever.

Not ever, ever, ever!

Sadly that first embrace only lasted five or six bus stops. I'd wanted it to last forever but maybe people were watching. That's what Wendy said, anyway. Smiling at me, the epitome of sexual perfection, she suggested we skipped The Pride and went to her home instead.

'My parents are off on a long weekend,' she enticed. 'We can sleep in their bed, if you like.'

What did I just say about having sex in a bed (as opposed to a field or the back seat of a car)?

Massive as the temptation was, I had to decline. 'I'm expected home,' I told her. 'And it's too late to ring and pretend it's a hastily arranged sleepover.'

'Don't say you have to be behind locked doors by twelve o'clock.'

'Of course I don't. I just have to arrange sleepovers beforehand, not at the last minute. My dad's very trusting, but Mum can read me like a book.'

Wendy laughed at that. 'My parents are away tomorrow and Sunday as well. Can you arrange one or two sleepovers to fit in?'

'I have my doubts about Sunday,' I said, thinking on my feet (for once), 'what with Monday being a school day and all. But I reckon I can pull out the stops and get the green light for tomorrow.'

Wendy's eyes lit up 'You fancy it, then?'

I'd flooded my panties less than one stop into our bus ride. 'Too right I do,' I replied. 'And cancel any "reckoning". Whatever it takes, I'll be with you for a sleepover on Saturday.'

'Are you still up for fun tonight?'

The question surprised me. 'I'm not turning into a pumpkin at midnight,' said I, 'and I thought we were bound for The Pride.'

'We are. I just hope you're not expecting it to be like The Sun.'

'Go on,' I prompted, squeezing her hand and staring into her eyes, 'explain the difference.'

So Wendy did. 'The Sun is an out-and-out lezzie joint,' she began, 'The Pride is completely different. It covers all LGBTQ angles at the same time. I'd say most of the customers are gay or questioning.'

'You lost me at LG,' I said, perhaps less than helpfully.

'An LGBT bar caters for lesbians, gays, bisexuals and transgender. We don't really have transgender in our part of the city, but we do have a lot of bisexuals. So The Pride is full of guys and girls who are interested in a bit of same-sex.'

'I heard much the same about The Sun.'

'The Sun is essentially lesbian. Bisexual girls and guys go there to see the females. Bisexuals go to The Pride for same-sex reasons. Well, mostly they do.'

'It's all very confusing.'

'Think about it. Why did you go to The Sun tonight?'

'Because I was interested in the possibility of having sex with a girl,' I said, my voice uneven but not totally strangled. 'Someday soon, I mean. I wasn't planning on tonight.'

'That is the correct answer! You win the prize!!' Wendy kissed me again, only fleetingly this time . . . worst luck. 'Girls go to The Sun for that very reason all the time,' she went on. 'Guys go to The Pride for different reasons. If you ask me, The Pride's okay but catering for all eventualities makes it a bit of a jack of all trades. Get my drift?'

Still dazed from that first/second/third all-female kiss, I nodded.

'I get your drift,' I said obediently.

By then I'd have said anything to oblige her.

Yes, I'd have said and done anything.

Chapter Six

My initial impressions of the LGBTQ pub were, to say the least, vague. Indeed they were so vague I'm going to inform you using much more recent memories.

Yes, despite Adrian's warding off, I've become a regular. The Pride is in many ways typical Yorkshire. It has blood-red carpets, frosted glass windows and brass hand-pulled pumps. Okay, so the clientele is a tad different to plain blue-collar, but not much. Most drinkers call in on their way home from work, wanting a beer and giving not one shit about their fellow drinkers' hopes and ambitions.

Sounds good, doesn't it? Yorkshire folk always have seen the way life should really be.

Not that a crowd of on-their-way-home drinkers were prevalent at that time of night. Far as I can recall there were clinches of same-sex couples, not least Adrian with a guy who looked like the Construction Worker out of The Village People. (No, I'm not that old; my mother still has a set of video tapes of Top of the Pops from the seventies and eighties. I was brought up on the likes of Marc Bolan, Wizzard and best of all, Slade.)

Anti-man as I was beginning to be, you bet I'd have nibbled Noddy's nuts . . .

(Secretly, I liked nibbling nuts. I'd found it immensely more arousing than straight sex. Perhaps it was that element of being on total control . . .)

And please excuse me for rambling like a derailed train. I'll mend my ways; honest I will.

*****

Friendly as friendly can be, I endured two rounds then suggested I could walk Wendy home. Laughing at that, she reminded me I was due back at my mum's.

'Don't want to screw up my hopes for tomorrow night,' she said.

'And neither do I,' I replied avidly. 'Tomorrow night is a must.'

Remember: that was before I properly knew what "tomorrow night "might hold in store!

'Let's compromise. I'll walk you home under the romantic moonlight,' said Wendy.

'Sounds good,' said I, 'especially the romantic bit, even if we are under thick cloud cover.'

That led to the rolling of eyes and . . . finally . . . a laugh.

'You bloody mare,' Wendy said as we left the bar.

'Ain't I just,' I agreed.'

*****

As it happened we made it outside before kissing again. Then, maybe a hundred yards down the road we had a really, really, big snog, bodies clamped tight together, private parts grinding against private parts, the works.

Jaysus, everything about it was good. I soon flooded my panties a second time . . . and quite possibly a third.

'Oh my,' I gasped as we at last broke for air. 'That was the greatest. That really was.'

Wendy looked at me a moment before pulling me off the beaten track, into an alleyway that may have been a hundred or more years old.

(Okay, so the bingo hall to our right wasn't particularly ancient, but the buildings on our left were out of "A Tale of two Cities" . . . or am I messing up my historical eras?)