Protégé

Moving onto Wikipedia, I found nothing more than a stub article that stated she was a renowned artist and where she was born, which I knew anyway. I had guessed at her age reasonably well - she was thirty-seven - and there was a list of a few awards she had won. Nothing much else, nothing really personal and no picture.

To my disappointment, the Gallery website was still under construction and most pages, including her bio said, 'Coming Soon.' There was a slightly better version of the photo I had seen on the newspaper site and it was in colour. It was also less tightly cropped and showed her shoulders, which were bare and showing quite a bit of the ink that Lillie and Mum had commented on. Given her hair, tattoos and pale skin, the only splashes of colour in the shot were her blood-red lips.

All in all it was a bit of an anti-climax. I found some of her work and there were lots of dark images of other-worldly beings - dragons, elves and wizards. They were pretty good and reminded me of some of the classic metal album covers my Dad had in his prized collection - the ones I had listened to since I was knee-high and now loved so much myself that I had downloaded most of them onto my phone and tablet.

Then I did a bit more digging and when I found some of her erotica, things changed a little. Most were simple pencil drawings or charcoal - the media I enjoyed using the most myself. Using minimal strokes, she invoked an amazing sense of tension and eroticism in her work - tongues teasing nipples, long slim fingers cupping a breast, a mouth open in ecstasy.

But easily my favourite was of a woman who was only visible from just above her mouth down to just below her breasts. Her mouth was wide open as though she was having an earth-shattering orgasm, her tongue stretching out, a silvery stud visible. Her own - or possibly someone else's - hands were gripping her breasts tightly and between the hands and her long, sinuous neck was the most amazingly intricate tattoo. It reminded me of finest lace. She was wearing long, pendant earrings and wisps of hair fell down past her ears, almost framing that sensuous mouth.

It was utterly mesmerising and I must have come for the first time before the family had even reached the airport. I then dug out my three toys from my secret compartment and let myself go completely. There was no-one to worry about overhearing me and by the time I had finished, I was going to have to change and wash my sheets, which would be a new challenge for me.

I was also a little shocked to find the visual assistance I was getting from my laptop had got more and more lurid as the evening went on. The final scene I had watched had a girl on her knees, her hands tied behind her back. She was bucking on a huge dildo and her mistress was standing over her, grinding herself against the girl's face. There were things dangling from her nipples and I needed to feel what the girl was feeling. I ran downstairs and took two plastic pegs from the washing basket. Back upstairs, I drew in breath as I clipped one to each of my fat nipples. Little electric shocks ran through me and gathered somewhere below my thick black bush.

I managed to get one of my vibes to stand upright long enough to straddle it and held my hands behind my back, mimicking the girl's pose but it wasn't enough - I needed to feel restrained. I somehow wrapped the belt from an old dressing gown around my wrists and got some sort of tension there.

As I slumped to the bed exhausted and sated, the only thing missing for me was the mistress flooding over my ecstatic face as the on-screen version had done to the submissive girl.

Afterwards, I lay for a long time gazing at the picture of the girl with her mouth open and the amazing tattoo. I wanted to know who she was - what she looked like. I couldn't believe a pencil drawing could affect me so much - be so utterly, mind-blowingly erotic.

I resigned myself to never knowing and fell into a deep, satisfied sleep.

Reluctantly I rose the next morning and got ready for work, already regretting that Mum was not there to give me a lift into town as usual. I had managed to sleep in and miss one of only four buses a day that served the village. Cursing myself, I tried a few combinations on the lock of Marcus's prized mountain bike and gave up in disgust. I was thinking of walking the two and a half miles into town and apologising for being stupidly late when a thought hit me. Marcus's favourite band of the moment were 'The 1975'. Five minutes later I was pedalling down the country lanes into town with a small feeling of triumph washing over me as I arrived slightly damp and sweaty, but at least on time.

The morning dragged and my thoughts were on other things. Well, one other thing actually. And that thing was my first visit to the new Gallery in town. I knew they closed for lunch between one and two - it was one of the few pieces of information on the website, so I resolved to take an early lunch and be there just after twelve.

At last the time arrived and I walked out into a gorgeous summer day. The gallery was only a few streets away on the pretty town square and I strode up to the front window and looked up at the sign. There, in an ornate font were the words, 'Angelfire by Angelina Firestone'. Some of her images were on show in the window along with sculptures and craft items from other local artists. The gallery looked bright and airy and as I pushed the door open there was a light tinkling sound from a bell above the door. It felt cool in there after the warmth of the afternoon. As I walked inside, I realised I had no idea what I was going to say to her if she was there.

'Hi new neighbour. Just spying on you, don't worry. No real ulterior motive here; just a sad, wannabe lessie seeing if you are masturbation fodder.'

I was taken aback to find no-one in the main gallery. There was a small reception desk with a curtained off section behind it and as well as the walls covered in all kinds of artwork, there were more racks of sculpture, glasswork, woodwork and all kinds of arts and crafts. I could see Lillie spending hours in here goggling at the lovely wooden and glass animals alone.

As I turned to look at the first wall of art, I heard a swish of the curtain behind me. I turned back, expecting to see Angelina standing there and was disappointed to see a younger girl rearranging the curtain behind her.

"Sorry - just out the back taking a call. Welcome to Angelfire - looking for anything in particular?"

She didn't sound local but there was a distinct regional burr to her accent. Possibly West Country, but I was no expert.

She turned to face me and my disappointment faded a little. She was slim and tall with short black hair that was gelled and slightly spiky. She wore dark eye make-up and her lipstick was a deep purple colour - just the look I wanted for myself. I stared at her for a minute before I realised I was probably being rude. "Oh, no thanks - just came in for a look really. Just being nosy!"

She smiled revealing lovely, even white teeth. "Nose away then. Give me a shout if you need any help."

A lot of Angelina's images were a bit too dark and Gothic even for my tastes and I found myself longing to see her erotica, but of course there were none on show. I found I was spending more time looking at the works of the other artists she displayed. I spent a long time kneeling down, looking at a watercolour low on one wall. It was utterly gorgeous - the underwing of a butterfly, beautifully realised. The tag said that it was 'Brown Argus by Meryn Trego' and it would cost £95 framed or £65 unframed.

"Do you like it?" I jumped a little as I heard a voice close to my ear. As the girl spoke, she looked down at the picture and then back to me. I could smell patchouli on her - I had always loved that pungent smell and realised she was having an effect on me, with those dark-rimmed eyes and exotic looking lipstick. I stood and now up close, I could see her nose ring and there were multiple studs and rings in her ears and when she smiled there was a flash of a tongue stud. Long spikes of hair fell in front of her ears, much longer than the rest of her shaggy mop, and as she moved her head, one strand fell across her face. She brushed it aside and I felt a little lurch in my stomach.

It took me a moment to realise she was asking if I liked the butterfly. "Yes, it's beautiful. So realistic it looks like it could fly out of the frame. I've not heard of Meryn Trego, but she must be very talented!"

Her smile went into another gear and she held up her name tag. My eyes went wide as I saw the words, 'Meryn Trego - Gallery Manager'.

I did a few embarrassing 'Oh wow, it's you,' kind of things, making me redden and her laugh. She was thrilled I liked it and said Angelina would be jealous if she knew her manager had 'won picture of the day,' as she had put it. It appeared that Angelina was the creative genius and left most of the running of the Gallery to Meryn, who had been her manager for a few years, first in America and then London.

I said it must have been a difficult transition to move from those exciting places to a medium sized town in the English countryside. Meryn shook her head. "We're both small town girls at heart. I grew up in Cornwall and Angelina around here. It all got a bit... mental at times so it's nice to quieten things down a bit." She winked and tapped her nose making her ring jiggle. "Still plenty going on round here to keep us occupied though!"

That last pronouncement sent a few alarm bells ringing in my head - were they an item? What was 'going on around here' to keep them occupied? Maybe I had led a sheltered life but to me it was just a quiet little town with a weekly market, the odd tribute band at the Town Hall and a sedate week-long summer carnival every year. Hardly Sodom and Gomorrah; but then what did naive little Hannah Andrews know then?

She showed me around a few more exhibits and I was tempted to ask her about the erotica, but as usual I didn't have the courage. As she talked, I appraised her. I felt myself being drawn in by Meryn Trego - her lovely soft Cornish accent, maybe overlaid a little by her time in America; that look of hers that I craved for myself. There was a sparkle in her lovely clear white eyes with soft brown pupils, accentuated by the gorgeous dark eye liner she wore and that hair that I just longed to nuzzle into. She seemed warm and inviting and it was all I could do not to put an arm around her as she told me a bit about Angelfire.

She was only a little shorter than me and was wearing a low-necked, long-sleeved shirt; her neck and chest covered by a swirl of orange scarf that curled around her and down between a pair of very tempting breasts. She was obviously bra-less and I was pretty sure I could see metal straining at the fabric and felt a little shiver run through me as I endured yet another 'I want' moment. Her ensemble was completed by jeans that were falling apart and short lace up boots. Yes, she was getting to me.

All too soon, my tour was complete and I thanked her, longing to add at least an air-kiss, but of course, being me, not having 'the bollocks' as my delightful younger brother would say.

"Can give you a discount..." She pointed to her butterfly.

I shook my head. "Thanks, but out of my price range still, I'm afraid!"

Smiling, she walked behind the desk. "What's your name?"

Slightly taken aback, I told her and she took out a piece of art paper from a drawer and never looking up began to sketch. Thirty seconds later, she handed me the paper. "Have that on me then, Hannah!"

I looked at the paper in amazement. I was looking down at myself, seen from the angle of the desk, kneeling down and gazing at the butterfly on the wall. Like Angelfire, it was only a few strokes of the pencil, but it was amazing - even more so to think she had done it from memory. She had titled it above with my name and signed it, 'MT x'.

Feeling tears well up, I thanked her and said it was beautiful. She shrugged. "Hey, got a good teacher; one of the best. She taught me how to bring out natural beauty."

I looked back at the butterfly. "Yes, it is so lovely."

I heard a little laugh and turned back to her. She was shaking her head slowly. "You, Hannah - not the fucking insect!"

I was in a dream as she walked me to the door. "Just shutting for lunch. Come back any time Hannah, always welcome." She twisted a three-sided sign wooden sign hanging inside the door to the side that said, 'Angelfire is Closed for Lunch.'

I stood looking in through the window as she returned to the desk area. I was about to turn away when something stopped me. I saw her begin to remove her scarf and she stretched her long neck. As she did, my heart nearly stopped as I saw an intricate, lacy tattoo across her chest.

I put it all together - the tattoo, the tongue stud, the hair hanging down below the level of her ears. There was no doubt whatsoever in my mind that she had to be the girl in the picture. Had I found out so soon who she was? I was aware I was standing with my hand to my mouth, which was as wide open as my eyes.

Meryn saw me staring and gave me a quizzical look through the window. She narrowed her eyes, a playful smile on her lips. She held her arms out and I could clearly see her mouthing, "What?"

Almost wanting to run away I pointed to my own chest and ran my hand across where her tattoo would lie. I looked around and the street was quiet but I didn't want anyone to see what I was going to do next. I moved into the doorway again and was relieved she was still looking at me. I opened my mouth wide and put my hands on my breasts, mimicking the pose she had adopted in in the picture. I held the pose for a few seconds feeling as embarrassed as I had ever done, before pointing at her.

As I dropped my hands to my sides, my face reddening, she hooked a finger into the corner of her mouth and continued to stare into my eyes, her smile now widening. She tapped her finger on her teeth a few times. She was through a pane of glass and probably ten yards away but I could sense an electric charge in the air. I knew I couldn't have done it without that barrier between us.

Finally, she let out a peal of laughter that I could hear through the closed door. She held her arms up, framing her body where the picture had been cropped. She then pointed to herself with both forefingers and bowed slightly as if to say, 'Yes, it was me.' She turned and opened the curtain behind her. She kissed her fingertips and blew gently and as I stood shaking uncontrollably, she disappeared from view.

It was a long, frustrating afternoon. Twice in the ladies I almost succumbed, but somehow managed to control myself.

I pedalled home like I was doing a time trial in the Tour de France and left Marcus's bike in a heap in the back garden. I'd be dead meat if he could see it like that, but it could wait. I poured myself a pint glass full of vodka tonic and raced upstairs. The webpage was still on my history list.

It was early evening when I started and I only broke to have a Skype call with a tired but excited Lillie. She was excited about having just met her favourite bear, bless her little heart. She had even got a hug from him and a high-five from Tigger.

Her older sister was excited because she had just met her new favourite woman.

I knew her name. I had spoken to her and she had drawn me.

She was called Meryn Trego and I thought I was falling in love.

Three

The next night, I did some more sneaky surfing. There was even less information on Meryn Trego on the internet than Angelina Firestone. The best I could do was a Linked-In profile that was woefully out of date and merely had her as an Art Gallery Manager. I wouldn't have given her picture a second look - it was more like a passport photo and her hair was cropped and there were fewer pieces of metal in her nose and ears. At least I now knew she was twenty-five years old and was born in St. Ives, Cornwall.

Oh and her middle name was Angharad.

Meryn Angharad Trego.

Angelina 'Angelfire' Firestone.

Hannah Elizabeth Andrews.

Why did everyone sound and look so much more exotic than me?

I re-watched the video with the submissive girl in it, this time making sure the clothes pegs were tighter. I rummaged in one of my drawers and triumphantly pulled out an old headband I wore during school sports. It had a Velcro fastening and with a bit of wriggling and cursing, I managed to secure my hands behind my back properly. I sank down on my vibe and fantasied that it was Meryn's strap-on inside me and Angelina was grinding down on my mouth.

Afterwards, I lay weeping, longing to pull Meryn into me for a long, tender loving kiss. I touched her image on my laptop and almost before I knew I was doing it, I found myself re-drawing the image of myself straddling the unknown girl.

This time, the girl on top looked quite like Meryn. The girl underneath her was still anonymous. At least she was to anyone but me.

The next lunchtime, I decided, 'Fuck it!' I went out and spent a small fortune on make-up then found myself in front of the one trendy boutique in town. Despite real leather being well out of my price-range, I was expecting the prices to be astronomical, but was overjoyed to find that the things I wanted, other than one garment, were way cheaper than I expected. I was still having reservations as the girl rang them through the till, but the smile she gave me made it all worthwhile. "You'll look great in those. I'll keep an eye out for you round town!"

It would be a while before I'd be brave enough to wear wet-look leggings, a matching crop-top with puff sleeves and a black leather waistcoat around town, but when I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw the girl I knew I wanted to be. I also had a silvery version of the crop-top and a spare pair of leggings. It was going to be hard to explain my purchases if my folks ever saw them but given what I had planned for those spare leggings, they were going to have to live in my secret drawer or there definitely would be searching questions asked.

I looked at the dark, smoky eye make-up I had applied, the deep, dark-red lipstick. There was a red bow in my gelled hair that was just screaming out for a blue, green or red streak in it. I looked down at the amazing cleavage the crop-top gave me - the sleekness of the material against my skin was so arousing. Then the wet-look leggings I had craved to wear for so many years. I felt a pang of guilt as I took in the red leather boots that finished my new look. Sorry Mum, but I couldn't afford the ones in town, so I borrowed a pair of yours.

I pulled on my leather waistcoat, the one costly item in my new wardrobe, and stared at myself for a full half hour.

I cried again as I took it all off and removed my make-up a few hours later. For a few fleeting hours I had been the girl I wanted to be and now I was back to being plain old Hannah. Then I thought back to what Meryn had said in the gallery about me being naturally beautiful and I felt a little better.

The next night I did it all again and the wonderful thing was, it was Friday night. I had the weekend all to myself and I could fulfil my fantasy again. My only regret was that I hadn't transformed into my new self before I met Angelina Firestone for the first time.

I returned from work a little later than usual having gone for a drink with a few of the guys in the office. I now felt strange sitting in my dowdy work-gear when I should be in faux-leather and sheer polyester. It also meant I missed the last bus, so it was an expensive few days for me what with my new purchases and a taxi-ride home.

I got changed into my usual summer attire of a t-shirt and cut-off jeans, longing to get into my new garb later. I had decided to make myself a job-lot of veggie moussaka to last me the weekend. It would take a while, but it would be far better than any frozen rubbish I could buy.