Pixie Pt. 01 Ch. 01: Call Me Pixie

I was bored. Usually, when I was away helping organise an event, at least one other member of the team would be with me, often Seb, who was gayer than the Gay Gordons. But he passed muster for a male companion in the hotel, which kept predatory men at bay. I was lesbian through and through, but that never stopped men thinking I was in need of their company. Short of wearing a tee-shirt saying "I am a lesbian," it was hard to know what to do about it. But Seb was ill, and here I was on my own.

The people at the venue had been fab, and the first night had been almost a sell-out. The Ensemble were well-known, getting air-time on "Classic FM" as well as Radio 3, and however much the music snob in me hated the cheesy style of the former, there was no denying that exposure there got bums on seats. In the end, that was what kept me in rare vinyl recordings of Kathleen Ferrier (I know, but everyone to their choice).

But here I was, alone. The one good thing was that there appeared to be no stray men in the lounge, as I waited to be called for supper. The waiter came, said my table was ready and led me to it. The restaurant was empty. I sat and looked at the menu.

Then she came in. As I am, shall we say, petite (four foot ten inches, 30-20-22), the first thing I usually notice about a woman is her height. She was about five foot seven, blonde hair, pale white skin, and her low cut dress showed that, unlike me, she had a bosom. Okay, I admitted to myself, boredom was, at least for now, banished by curiosity.

Like many lesbians, my gaydar was quite well-developed. Despite all the advances made by gay women, it was still nowhere as easy to pick up a female lover as it was a male one. The sexy blonde who had just piqued my interest was not, I guessed, wholly gay, but the way she caught my eye and smiled, suggested she might not be averse to more than a chat. I thought I might as well try it.

'Hi, there, care to join me? It will protect us both from the ravening horde of men about to descend on this place.' I smiled.

'Really,' she smiled, 'well I am sure my partner would much rather I spent the evening with a ravishing woman than ravening men.'

'Where is this ravishing woman?' I asked, blushing.

'Oh, I dare say she will turn up, but until then, you will have to do.' She laughed. I blushed even more.

She sat opposite. I handed her the menu.

'I'm Pixie, nice to meet you.'

'How suitable. 'I'm Emily,' she replied, her smile setting my heart fluttering. I could not help hoping.

'What brings you to this forsaken spot?' It was a natural question, the place was famous for its music.

I hoped that, if she had come for the concert, we might have a topic of conversation.

'Oh, I'm here to listen to the Hilliard, but thought I'd come a day early and catch the rehearsals, if they let one in.'

'I can ensure they do, I'm one of the organisers.'

'That would be extremely kind of you.'

As she smiled, I thought it was more than worth it, just to see that. I was conscious of the urge to please her. That was usually a sign; occasionally, even a good one.

The waiter asked if we wanted anything to drink.

'The least I can do is to buy us something nice - would you like a kir royale?' Again, the dazzling smile.

'I'd love one.' It was my turn to smile.

The deep purple fizz tasted as wonderful as it looked.

'Bottoms up,' I said.

'Yours or mine?' She laughed.

I blushed. It was a bad habit, which seemed to be growing on me with Emily.

'I'm sorry,' she said quickly, 'my tongue runs away with me.' She smiled, slowly, lustfully. I was being seduced.

'I blush easily,' I said, soothingly. 'And the idea did catch my fancy.'

'I might like to catch that, too.' She winked.

The waiter interrupted. I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or cross. As they were in season I could not resist ordering the oysters to start, followed by the scallops with bacon. Emily ordered the pea soup and the steak - rare.

'Is it true?' she quizzed me.

'Is what true, Emily?'

'Oysters, libido?' Again, the wink and the slow smile. She was bloody well flirting with me; why was I so slow to pick up the signals? Useless, no wonder I was still single.

'Hard to tell,' I teased back, 'I'm a horny little thing at the best of times.'

'Yes,' she smiled, 'it was the first thing I noticed about you.'

'What? The horniness?' I teased.

'No, your petite form. Are you even five foot?'

Indignantly, I protested that I was nearly five foot, but it sounded silly as soon as the words left my mouth.

'It's fine, I love your size, it appeals to me.'

'It does?' I gulped. 'Most people don't seem to find the flat-chested midget look appealing. They want curvy girls'

She reached out, touched my hand.

'Don't look so worried, little Pixie, you are gorgeous. I can't wait to fuck you after dinner. We can test that oyster thing.' So saying, she gripped my hand, and looked into my eyes.

'You do want to be my Pixie, don't you?'

Suddenly, I wanted it more than anything.