Never Say Never Again

For some reason that struck Janet as hilarious. Never mind rarely smiling, suddenly she was engulfed in waves of mirth. Eric Morecombe couldn't have inspired such levels of hilarity.

And wasn't Janet looking good for it.

Heather came out in sympathy. At least once, maybe twice or more.

'My turn tonight,' she said, keeping vocal levels low, 'unless you object. If you do, I'll switch. We just have to balance books over the rest of this week.'

'Spoken like an accountant,' Janet replied, surprisingly playful. 'But accountants aren't always wrong, even when they have other interests behind their numbers.'

'Do you know something I ought to be aware of?'

'Yes, I know I need you to fuck me and fuck me, world without end.'

Heather hated the eff word, and had never expected sweet, angelic Janet to use it.

Not that the surprise wasn't entirely unwelcome.

'Hey,' she shammed. 'we haven't even made the pub yet.'

'Boring,' Janet yawned. 'Boring, boring. But let's get on with it. Two drinks there in the Sub, a curry in The Shama and home to bed.'

'With me in charge?' Heather asked, somewhat (and very untypically), hesitant.

'Yeah. To start with, anyway. As time goes by, who really knows?'

Chapter Seven

Drinks in the Sub went well, even if the two of them were very much noticed. Heather couldn't have missed all the knowing glances in their direction. But to heck with gossips and rumourmongers, what did she care for garbage like them.

Go on, she thought, staring into Janet's eyes but very much aware of dozens of other pairs staring at them. Go on, start something on the dreaded Grapevine.

Start it and see how fast I can get you transferred to our branch in the Outer Hebrides.

(Not that there was anything wrong with that or any other WYB branch; it just sounded like the back of beyond. And it was an awful long trek away from good old Bingers.)

'I mean it,' she said over their second super-sized glass, 'if I get carried away just call "pax" and I'll be a good little girl, there on her back, leaving it all to you.'

'You gave me full freedom,' Janet replied. 'I owe you the same. We can debate calling "pax" later on in the week. But not tonight.'

'I'll still take care.'

'Take whatever you like, as long as to take me to the heights of rapture.'

'I'm preaching to the converted, aren't I?'

'I already told you I'm resolutely dyke. And I'm like you. I love to give, and I love to receive. Marriage made in Heaven or what?'

'Marriage?'

'Figure of speech. All I'm after is a series of mutually satisfactory fucks. And the more the merrier.'

Heather did her best not to frown at the repeated eff word. That was made easier by seeing one of Janet's criminally endangered smiles.

'Okay,' she said, 'let me bag another bottle of vino and we'll head off for The Shama.'

'I've got the vino covered,' Janet replied, patting her copious bag. 'It's from the Co-op but worry not, I bought a decent one and I've got it in a cooling sleeve.'

'Good grief,' said Heather, full of approval, 'you really can organize the likes of me, can't you?'

'That's what I do,' Jan replied smugly. 'Let's go eat then find out how well you can organize bedtime.'

Heather nodded. 'Sounds like a plan.'

*****

After superb curries, halfway oiled, the not-so star-crossed lovers repaired to Hunters Farm, catching a cab driven by Ali (and purely by chance). Being a man of the world Ali kept his gob shut and drove, avoiding his rear-view, leaving his passengers to avidly grope each other in the back.

'Here,' Heather said as they pulled up in her farmyard, passing him a twenty, 'keep the change.'

'Hev,' he complained, 'that's way too generous.'

'And you've just broken the taxi driver's code. Accept it and shut up. I'll get my money's worth come Friday, won't I?'

Ali flushed at that, visibly even in the failing daylight. Then he was driving away, skirting the geese's pond, taillights disappearing down the winding track back to Micklethwaite Lane.

'Friday?' Janet queried. 'That's SJ's night, isn't it?'

'It's complicated,' Heather cringed, 'but don't worry, Sammy Jo won't miss out.'

'I guess I don't need to know.'

'Too true. The girl who knows just everything can miss out for once. Now then, are we going to bed or what?'

*****

Turned out they stopped off for more vino first. That is to say they diverted to Heather's so exquisite kitchen and shared a bottle of shiraz. They also shared sex on Heather's traditional farmhouse table.

Okay, sharing didn't come into it. Two glasses each and down to dregs, at Heather's instigation, with no hesitation at all, Janet positioned herself just so on the table, legs distinctly akimbo.

And, pulling already damp panties aside, Heather ate her for ages and ages.

Well, to be precise, timed on the old-fashioned kitchen wall clock, Heather ate her for two hours and seven lovely, delicious minutes.

Yum, yum, as someone not a million miles away would have said.

And then they went to dreamland, but by no means to slumber.

Oh no, sleeping was not on the agenda. Not with Ms Heather bushy-tailed and ready to play.

Chapter Eight

Being taken endlessly by her often fantasized about divinity was beyond rapture. Janet loved every second, every kiss and caress, every last lash of a skilled and seeming ravenous tongue. More to the point, Ms Heather wasn't acting predictably, and that factor contributed in a big way.

Unpredictable?

That's correct. By rights she should have stripped her pet PA naked before tying and blindfolding her, en route to fucking her again and again, like a madwoman. In other words, she should have behaved much as Janet had on her "birthday treat". But Ms Heather had other ideas. Perhaps she was letting tension build or something, maybe she just wanted to act differently but, for long enough, she didn't even use any of her toys.

Not until she produced a fourteen-inch double-ended dildo and announced a timeout.

'I'm not quitting on the job,' she said. 'And I'm still the girl in charge. You can feel free to contribute as much as you like.'

By then the oh-so-willing victim liked an awful lot. The lighting in that mirror-ceilinged bedroom had been left on, making it easy to appreciate the device in Ms Heather's hand.

That is awesome, Janet thought in sincere anticipation. How on earth could I have missed using it on her the other night? Or did I use it on her and just forget?

No, no way would I forget our bodies being united by that not-so little beauty.

'Take me,' she crooned. 'I'm yours.'

Red flag to a bull or what. Slowly, ostentatiously almost, Ms Heather applied lube to both ends. 'We don't want any accidents, do we?' she breathed. 'Can't be too careful.'

'I'm wetter than I've ever been,' Janet countered truthfully. 'What a waste of lubricant was that!'

Giggling girlishly, Ms Heather commanded her to open her "wings" wider than wide. Then, more or less replicating Janet's latest acceptive position, she interlocked their legs before surprisingly gently slotting in her weapon of war.

And how good was that! Janet had no time for men but loved being penetrated by girls. Fucking Ms Heather with a multitude of dildos, strap-on devices and strapless dreams had been out of this world but this latest experience was even better.

Not that the delight had properly started yet. Skilful as ever, Ms Heather inserted the free end of the toy into herself and instant delight. Her internal motions were causing some quite amazing internal motions inside of Janet.

Their groins were as good as touching, too. Seven inches in each of them and they were pressing on and in hotly close.

Make that hotly and very, very wetly.

'Ms Heather,' she gasped, 'oh my God!'

'I'm Hev,' her lover responded, her voice almost a grunt, nowhere near her usual musical tone. 'I'm Hev and you're Jan, like I told you already. Now shut up and take it.'

'I want it,' Janet bleated. 'Please, please, Hev, give me it. Give me more and more.'

Needless to report, "Hev" obliged.

What a strong woman was she. Janet was long-limbed and muscly, if not downright athletic. Not so Hev; Hev could have graced WWE and outfought most of the men. Caught in her determined grasp it was a no-brainer to lie back and enjoy every firm, endlessly deliberate stroke.

Yes, yes, yes. More, more, more, as the girl herself might well have cried.

In some distant, remote part of her brain Janet wondered if her lover was getting as much out of the experience as she was getting. She sincerely hoped she was. And, as a corollary, she hoped that said experience would be duly extended.

Why not carry on until breakfast. Why not ditch tomorrow at work and fuck forever and ever.

And as for Hev's orgasmic nature . . . well omigod, she climaxed at frequent intervals, and regularly at that. Janet had personally never had problems in orgasming, but compared to Hev, she felt like a rank amateur. The girl really should be in videos, and not the sort given out free to air. Oh no, she should be selling her visual wares at fifty pounds for ten minutes.

Or should that be a hundred for five minutes?

Either way she'd be quids in. Instant millionairess or what!

Finally pausing, Hev announced it was time for a wine break. Leaving half of the double ender inside Janet she grinned as she set of for refreshments. 'Feel free to self-abuse yourself,' she said over her shoulder. 'Next we're going to watch each other indulging. Consider this as opportunity to practice.'

Digging out her mobile Janet found it was three in the morning, give or take. So, three more hours to go. And sleep didn't come into the equation. Hev boasted that sex revitalized her, removing all need for sleep altogether. Judging by their two sessions so far, the condition was catching.

Or maybe it was contagious.

Recalling those sepia-toned schoolgirl experiments, she slowly, manually moved the sex toy in her. It felt good, but nowhere near as good as it felt when Hev used her powerful pussy muscles to move it deeply into her.

Cue panic. Hearing a step in the corridor outside, Janet hastily let go of the middle grip. Sure enough, Hev arrived back in the bedroom, tits becomingly bouncing, streaks of lady juice shining on her inner thighs.

No, make that streaks of lady juice shining everywhere over her lower body.

Some of that's mine, Janet thought. Omigod, some of that is mine. Perhaps a lot of that!

'Here,' said Hev, passing across a giant glass of pinot. 'And take a gander at this.'

Sipping her wine Janet looked at the image on Hev's mobile. 'That's what's his name's wife,' she said after due consideration. 'The singer with big lips. Great rival of the Beatles.'

'Do you mean Mick Jagger?'

'Yeah, that's the one. Bianca, she's called. Nowadays she's a human rights campaigner or something along those lines.'

'Jan, that's a recent photo, not something from way back when. That's my American buddy, Mandy.'

Janet did a double take.

'Flick through the sequence,' Hev invited. 'She only gets better as it goes on.'

She wasn't wrong, either.

'No wonder I had to wait,' Janet said as she eventually ran out of super-sexy snaps.

'You got in before her.'

'No, I didn't. you've been having phone sex for ages.'

'Not a patch on the real thing. Want to see Mary Rose?'

Janet dragged her feet at that. She'd spoken to Mare on the phone a thousand times but hadn't yet met her in person.

'Come on,' said Hev, reclaiming her phone, setting up a fresh sequence and passing it back.

And Janet nearly died on sight of snap number one. Hev usually described her school chum as being like Violet Elizabeth Bott. That brought up images of Just William's old nemesis, all curly ginger hair and an annoying lisp. But this creature was something else completely.

This creature made Lindsay Lohan look distinctly ordinary.

'Flick through,' Hev prompted. 'She's even more daring than Mandy. She excites me even now, and I have seen everything she's got a million times before.'

She was right; clothed and relatively decent, Mary Rose could stop buses in London. As pictured and progressively naked, she'd cause heart attacks in the Vatican City.

And everywhere else, come to that.

'What are you doing with the likes of me?' asked Janet. 'What with these two beating at your door.'

'Drink your drink and get back on the bed. I'll give you a clue.'

Chapter Nine

'Okay,' Hev declared, parking her empty glass on a bedside table. 'Indulge yourself. Consider me to be your appreciative audience.'

Gulping but game, Janet parked her empty next to her lover's and lay back on the bed, tentatively reaching for the double-ended toy (the one that had stayed inside her through the timeout, the one that by then felt to be part of her).

'Show me how you really, really like it,' Hev encouraged. 'I'm a good learner; you can't give me too much information. Do this properly and next time will be even better for both of us.'

'Next time,' Janet gasped.

'Yeah, tomorrow night in case you've forgotten. Next time I'll be beyond compare.'

'You already are. And tomorrow's my turn, remember?'

'Tomorrow's another day. We'll worry about it when it comes around.'

'Excuse me, but it's been "tomorrow" for hours already.'

'Quit squabbling and show me how you best prefer it.'

'I am showing you.'

'Okay, I suppose you are. Do you fancy having a helpful tongue assisting down there?'

'Any time in the next two seconds would be good. I . . . oh good God Hev, yes, yes, yes!

*****

Previously unpredictable Hev predictably cheated when their sands of sex time began to run out on them. Refusing to let herself "self-indulge", she insisted on paying attention to Janet's tits.

'You promised,' Janet grouched, doing her best to pretend that all that nipple-licking wasn't turning her on like crazy.

'Tomorrow,' Hev responded, briefly breaking off before going for it again, big time, using both hands to ensure every last inch of breast was thoroughly, constantly caressed.

'How many times do I need to say it's tomorrow already?'

No response. Well, apart from switching from licking nips to gently nibbling them, there wasn't.

'Oh yes, Hev,' Janet sighed. 'Oh my God yes, more, more, more,' she moaned and groaned.

Suitably encouraged, Ms Heather went for it, keener than ever.

Yes, yes, yes!

*****

That annoying alarm clock broke them off at ten to six. Changing her previous SOP Hev immediately led Janet to her shower and was far from well-behaved under the cascading water. In fact, good old Linda Lovelace couldn't have been more forward.

Then, after breakfasting together on coffee and croissants, Ms Heather called them a cab. 'I don't do drinking and driving,' she explained. 'And I don't do going home without having a tipple or two.'

'I noticed,' said Janet, as drily as she could.

'Do you have a motor?'

'Not yet. I only passed my test last year. And I'm office-bound, aren't I? Unlike you.'

'I get by without endangering public life and limb. And I have a three-year old Jag in the garage. It's only got twenty thousand miles on it, mostly thanks to trips to Perranporth.'

'Perranporth,' Janet echoed. 'I love that place. The Green Parrot is my favourite pub in the world.'

'Solidarity sister.' Ms Heather ceremoniously bumped knuckles as she spoke. 'It's my favourite too, although sometimes I waver and think I prefer a certain beach bar in Cairns.'

'Would that be Cairns in the Northern Territories?'

'No, it's in north Queensland. One of the best places on earth. The beaches around there are almost as good as Cornwall's, and they don't have all the pesky tourists. Have you ever been?'

'I've only ever done Europe, and then only once.'

'Whereabouts?'

'I did Normandy on a school trip. Saw the landing beaches and mulberry harbours. Bits are still there, even now. Hitler had no chance, did he?'

Heather had been on a similar school trip yonks ago and couldn't agree more. She had also watched "Saving Private Ryan" and felt an affinity for the area. 'Hitler was a shit,' she said, surprisingly angry, 'if I'd ever got my hands on him, he'd wish he'd never been born.'

'Back to Perranporth,' Janet said diplomatically.

'They call it "Porthperan" in Cornish,' Heather replied, 'derived from Saint Piran, the patron saint of Cornwall. Traditional home of wreckers and maybe a few smugglers. Pretty much like the rest of the duchy, if you ask me, or anyone else. I particularly like the national flag. A thin white cross on a black background. Yorkshire has its own flag but not nearly as impressive as that. Cornwall's flag looks like they're ready to fight Bretons or Romans or something.'

Janet coughed, diplomatic again.

'No, I mean it,' Ms Heather persisted. 'Yorkshire's flag looks like something designed just for a cricket match, probably a twenty-twenty at that. Cornwall's was made for ancient jousting tournaments and the likes.'

'Do the Cornish play cricket?

'No, they've more sense. They stick to rugby and surfing.'

'Those sports exhibit more sense!'

'We play all sorts of violent rugby up north, don't we? And surfing gets you eyefuls of chicks, doesn't it? Watching or actively taking part.'

'Well,' Janet laughed. 'Maybe it does.'

'Are you sure about travelling in to work together?' Ms Heather asked, abruptly changing tack.

'I told you I don't give a fig about my reputation. And lots of folk will have seen us leaving the office last night, me with my overnight bag. The one stuffed with enough spares for four nights.'

'Hmm,' said Ms Heather, 'lots of folk spotted us in the Sub as well. I guess it's too late to worry.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean at least a dozen pairs of eyes were on us in there last night. Chances of us escaping all of the Grapevine rumours are non-existent.'

'No need to worry, then.'

'Not unless you like worrying.'

'I don't. You just worry about what I'm going to do with you tonight. I have all sorts of wicked ideas. And before you try to wriggle, you promised me it, just like I promised you last night.'

The honk of a taxi horn out in the farmyard delayed an answer.

'Ah,' said Ms Heather, 'our carriage awaits.'

'No Hev. Promise me. Promise little Jan she'll be calling the shots again.'

'Little Jan?'

'Tall Jan. Skinny Jan. Whatever you think of me, just promise me that for tonight.'

It would have been rude not to.

'Oh, okay,' Heather sighed, mock-reluctantly,' I promise on the life of the Manor School cat. That's an unbreakable promise by the way. Even if I'd crossed my fingers behind my back . . . which I didn't as it happens . . . I'd have to go through with it.'

Smiling her best smile, Janet pecked her lover on the nose. 'That's good enough for me,' she said, 'I'll be wishing the hours away. Tonight's session can't come too quickly. Bring it on!'