Victoria's Secret

'The food will sort you out,' she said confidently. 'It always does the trick for me.'

I took her hand and stopped walking, pulling her to a halt beside me.

'Is this what I think it is,' I asked.

She responded by kissing me, making me woozier than ever, making my brain whirl as well as swirl.

'I left the car at work,' she said, breaking off after maybe five minutes. 'We can dine out, taxi to mine and taxi back in tomorrow, nobody any the wiser. They'll all assume I'm pulling another all-nighter. She laughed and added, 'At work, I mean.'

'Taxi to yours,' I said, not quite echoing but close.

'That's where we're bound isn't it?'

I gaped at her.

She grinned for the zillionth time. 'Well, isn't it?'

I giggled at that and gave in. 'Guess I'm up for it. But I'm not sure if I'll last all night.'

She kissed me again, even more lingeringly. 'That doesn't matter,' she said, 'I will.'

Chapter Four

Our spell in the curry house was, I must admit, a bit of a blur. Hev was right, though; the food did sort me out. Or maybe it was the lack of vino. I limited myself to one inch in a small glass and let her sink all the rest.

Not that more wine seemed to affect her. Well, not in any negative way.

My overriding Shama memory is that the waiters were all in love with her. And if she was Hev to me by then, she was very much "Miss Heather" to them. Not that they demeaned themselves in any way. No, they were attentive, considerate and very, very flirty. Miss Heather responded with bright white smiles and countless double-entendres.

All good, clean fun, in other words.

They even gave her a red rose when she settled the bill.

Then, as my head gradually started to clear, she told me our taxi was on its way.

'No second thoughts?' she wondered.

I took her hand over the table, squeezing tight.

'I don't do second thoughts. Let's go for it.'

*****

The taxi ride tested my knowledge of local geography. Or maybe it was all that Shiraz. I know the route well enough now, so I can say we headed out of Bingley towards Keighley and took a right in Crossflatts. Then we went up and up a windy country lane, way uphill and finally around a hairy hairpin bend before taking what appeared to be a farm track between a thick mass of trees. But it was a very fancy farm track; it had been extravagantly resurfaced.

Eventually we pulled up. Hev had been chatting with the driver all along, obviously on first name terms. He'd been doing more listening than chatting and now simply said, 'Same as usual.'

She gave him a ten and told him to be careful out there, as if he was in the Hill Street Blues.

He laughed and said the same to her.

'Watch out for the geese,' Heather warned me, taking my hand, much as I'd taken hers.

'What geese?'

'There are seven of them, over there by that pond. They guard me. Once I get you indoors they'll never let you out without my say-so.'

I could see moonlight on water, away to my right, but no geese. We were standing on a forecourt big enough for ten vehicles, itself part of a farmyard as big as a football pitch. The area Hev was indicating seemed to be surrounded by reeds. Presumably the seven of them were somewhere in there, watching and biding their time.

A duck pond, I decided. No, a goose pond!

'Guess I'm stuck here all night,' I said, smirking.

'Guess you are.'

I had another look around and realized that the renovated farmhouse was out of a fairy tale.

This is beyond Walt Disney, I thought. Not half . . .

'Once inside I'm stuck,' I reiterated.

'Yes, until I give the word Bashful will never let you go.'

'Bashful?'

'She's the alpha goose. Doc's supposed to be head gander but you know how it is. Alpha females come to the fore, don't they?'

My still slightly woozy brain tried to compute "Doc" and "Bashful", failing miserably.

'Okay,' I said instead, 'we'd best go indoors then, hadn't we?'

'I didn't think you'd ever ask!'

*****

Here's an admission: my excitement levels were off the scale as we went into Hev's dream home. I took little notice of anything, refusing her offer of a drink, wanting to be up there in her bedroom more than I'd ever wanted anything.

And soon enough, there we were.

'Jacket,' she said, 'take it off.'

Still captivated by her eyes, I took off my light jacket and tossed it onto a chair. Her bedroom was, by the way, enormous and brilliantly lit. My enthusiasm must have been only too obvious through my thin cotton shirt.

And so was hers.

I mused a moment about her bra. Was it one of those shelf affairs that showed off her nips?

Smiling at me, Hev removed her much more expensive jacket and dropped it on top of mine.

'Me first next,' she said, unfastening her shirt.

'Fuck me,' I gasped as two perfect globes sprang into view. How firm and fine was she? Whoever needed a bra with tits like that!

And never mind shape and firmness, her brown nipples were the size of thimbles and her areolas were as big as two-pound coins.

Yet again I wondered about her ancestry. Not that I had reservations on the grounds of race. I've done a hundred and eleven countries, remember. I must have fucked with every colour of woman under the sun.

And ditto for under the stars . . .

Not to mention under fluffy duvets and in every conceivable type of tent.

(I'd claim igloos too, but they're still on my wish-list.)

'Take yours off,' Hev commanded.

With shaky fingers I complied, wishing I was bra-free too, somehow keeping enough composure to thrust my quivering chest in her direction.

'It unhooks at the front,' I told her. 'I'll let you.'

She didn't need telling twice. And she definitely knew how to unhook a bra. Within mere seconds we were holding each other's tits, softly squeezing, sweetly caressing. Then she knocked away my hands and we were directly tit-to-tit.

Utter bliss!

'Here,' she murmured, moving hers on mine. 'Feels good, doesn't it?'

Understatement or what! My tits weren't as perfectly firm as Hev's but they ran her close. Pressed as they were, closer than close, the contact was simply stupendous. Hot, round and smooth with hard points that drew the most incredible lines along the most incredibly receptive flesh . . .

What wasn't there to like?

'I'm going to cum,' Hev said after maybe ten minutes of steadily mounting ecstasy.

'I'll be there with you,' I assured her.

And I was. Staring into those eyes of hers, four firm globes incessantly moving as one, four as-hard-as-diamonds nipples drawing relentless lines, I did actually think my assurance was wishful thinking, that, thrilled as I was, I was slightly out of sync.

But then her eyes changed and suddenly we were cumming together, in unison, as united in glee as two women could ever be.

Naked from the waist upwards, unable to stop pressing and rubbing . . .

Massive release or what! My legs turned to rubber and still I went on, much farther than I should have, in all honesty. If Hev hadn't grabbed me I'd have ended up flat on the floor.

Chapter Five

Totally naked on my back on the bed, I realized there was a mirror on the ceiling. I also realized that Hev had no intention of switching off the lighting. Whatever happened next, I was going to get to see in graphic detail.

Like wow, bring it on!

Heather, also naked, lingered a while over what I now know to be her toy drawer. She dumped a handful of items on her bedside cabinet then joined me on the bed, grinning that grin.

'For later,' she explained, not giving me chance to examine her choices. 'Now then, where shall we begin?'

That was a rhetorical question because she was on me in an instant, kissing me passionately if not downright ferociously. Head whirling and swirling again, I returned her kiss, happy enough to let her go first.

Did I just say happy? Truth is I was deliriously delighted. When she left my mouth in favour of my neck and shoulders I sighed and glanced up.

What I sight I saw! Me on my back, my hair splayed about my head, my lips forming an O of utter appreciation. And Hev's stupendous body on me, slowly inching downwards, taking her time as if she owned all of the time in the world.

And then her mouth found my nips and I was watching myself cum and cum.

Believe you me; watching yourself cum is the best aphrodisiac going.

It is when Hev is involved, anyway.

If I'd thought tit-to-tit was good I'd never imagined how fantastic her mouth was likely to be. I am by nature an orgasmic girl but I'd never experienced anything remotely similar. Do not ask how long she pleasured me that way and please, don't expect an accurate number of cums. Let's just say she carried on for half of forever and I climaxed to infinity and beyond.

Then she wriggled lower and lapped up the fruits of her labour; or, more accurately, the juices of her labour. Needless to report, she was exceptionally skilled and I carried on cumming. It would have been rude not to.

'I boarded at an all-girls' school,' she told me as she reached for her cabinet top, my thanks and congratulations no doubt ringing in her ears. 'Quite a few of us got extra A-levels in Cunnilingus.'

'I bet you got an A*,' I said breathlessly, still flat on my back, watching her reflection as she picked out a bright blue strapless strap-on device.

'This is one of my favourites,' she told me.

'Do I get to use it on you?' I wondered.

'Of course you do. But I'm going to use it on you for ten minutes first. Okay?'

Ten minutes turned out to be an optimistic estimate. She used it on me for more like an hour and a half, and in several different ways, all with me staying as I was, able to watch our reflections.

Hev kneeling between my widely spread legs, pushing steadily in as far as she could then almost completely withdrawing . . . now that was a fine experience. The business end of the toy seemed incredibly long as it came out. Watching it was nearly as big a kick as feeling it.

Oh yes, in and out, in and out. The universe's oldest beat played out by a girl who knew what she was doing.

In and out, in and out, deeper, deeper and then deepest . . .

Better still was the traditional face-to-face. Hev did that most, reuniting our tits and kissing my lips from time to time. My legs weren't widely spread for that delight. Well, maybe they were now and then, but more often than not they were around her, my ankles locked tight together.

That was the reflected image which will live on in my memory: the image of Hev's so-tight buns clenching as she pushed into me, her ass gently bumping against my locked ankles, driving me ever onwards and upwards.

I only wish I'd used my mobile and recorded it for posterity.

*****

I did get chance to return all the favours Hev had done for me. By then it was silly o'clock in the morning and I'd almost lost my voice as well as the ability to breath. But I hadn't lost the desire to pleasure a fellow female. If I have my way I never will.

Lose the desire, that is. If I ever lost that I'd be desolated.

For me pleasuring is a two-way street. I really do believe that it's better to give than receive. And nobody on earth deserved pleasuring more than Hev right then; of that I was convinced.

So I really did try to mirror (pun very much intended) every last wonderful thing she had done for me. Judging by her words, cries and sighs, I didn't perform too badly. And judging by all her cums she was even more orgasmic than I was.

Oh yes, there were rewards for being a copyKat; big rewards indeed.

Wetness everywhere tops my memory; supreme, excessive wetness.

Squelch, squelch, squelch . . .

Oh yes, yes, yes!

I love to make a girl cum, especially when it's our first night together and nerves are all tangled up with excitement, tied tightly enough to make us both tentative.

Finally, ultimately and after giving Hev at least an hour's seeing-to with her own blue toy, I rolled off her.

'There,' I gasped, 'consider yourself fucked.'

'I consider myself to be very lucky, she replied. 'Fancy a drink?'

*****

I must have dozed off while she was downstairs. When I reopened my eyes birds were singing in the trees outside. Hev was beside me; her curves snug with mine, her hand stroking my arm.

'I brought you orange,' she said, nodding to a glass on her cabinet. 'But I didn't have the heart to wake you.'

'What time is it?' I was concerned by the birds. Weren't they supposed to sing the dawn chorus? And at this time of year wouldn't that make me late for work?

'It's just after seven,' Hev reassured me. 'That lot have been going off at strange times for years. Don't ask me why; maybe they're trying to annoy the geese.'

Her hand left my arm and stroked my right tit instead. Then it delved lower to stroke my pussy in a leisurely, undemanding way.

'I don't usually do relationships,' she said softly.

Ah, I thought. Here we go. Here comes the big morning-after brush-off.

But it wasn't that at all.

'I can't swear oaths or promise fidelity,' Hev continued, 'but I do want to see you again. Might you be interested in dating once a week? Until you set off on your travels again, I mean.'

Too fucking right I would.

'I don't really do oaths or promises,' I said calmly, proud of myself for not biting off her wonderful hand. 'I don't do jealousy either. And yes, I am interested in dating you. Assuming all your dates go like last night's.'

'In your case I think that could be arranged.' Hev chuckled. She was still stroking my pussy in that leisurely way, focusing on nowhere in particular, stimulating just everywhere.

'Let's make it every Wednesday,' she went on, 'in honour of last night. If you can guarantee you'll always be in the Potting Shed for six o'clock, I'll guarantee you always at least eight hours of sex. Do we have a deal?'

'Were we at it eight hours?'

'More like ten. You only nodded off for forty winks. You can handle eight easy. So, do we have a deal?'

I turned in her embrace, accidentally dislodging her hand but wanting to look into her eyes.

'You bet we do,' I said.

She grinned at me. 'We've got half an hour before we need to get moving. How shall we fill it?'

'Let's shower,' I suggested. 'Half an hour should get us sparkly clean.'

'Good clean fun,' she said, chuckling. 'I'm all for that.'

Chapter Six

That first night was eight Wednesdays ago and, up until yesterday, we had stuck to our sides of the bargain. We'd even fallen into a routine: six o'clock in the pub; down to the Shama for seven thirty; into Hev's bedroom shortly before nine.

Not that there was anything "routine" about us. Okay, our chitchat in the Potting Shed was mostly centred on faraway places, but we both had many tales to tell, so the conversation differed every time and was never repetitive. And okay, Hev did tend to order the same food (mixed tikka for a starter, Keema vindaloo with chapattis as her main) but I always menu-hopped. And no need for a qualifying "okay" when it came to our bedroom activities . . .

(Eight hours, by the way! Wherever had Hev got that from? She invariably insisted on "more like ten".)

So, seven Wednesdays in a row and we had tried every single sex act going . . . except we still kept coming up with new ideas and lots of variations on old themes.

I assure you, there was nothing at all routine about us.

And sleep deprivation didn't come into the equation. No, I'll amend that. Sleep deprivation was a factor but I ignored it at the time, struggled through the following day in the office then had a very early night . . . alone and usually too tired to bring myself of more than once or twice.

What, you're struggling to believe I needed to jill? I had fresh memories to handle, remember. A lot of fresh memories and jilling always seemed to bring them to a nice conclusion.

Jilling always seemed to bring me to a nice conclusion, too, naturally!

In case you're wondering about our working relationship I'll explain: our paths very rarely crossed apart from those project meetings, chaired by Hev. During them she treated me much as she did everyone else, although I did at one stage notice her asking for more than my share of opinions. I soon noticed that she did that with all the quieter attendees, though; it was her people person way of bringing us out of our shells and I admired her for it.

Come to that, I admired everything about her and still do.

Well, admiration aside, I suppose I have reservations about yesterday.

*****

Still officially clocking off at five, I had got into the habit of lingering in the office. And, because I'm not stupid, I'd also got into the habit of lingering on days other than Wednesday, to throw snoops off our track. But Bingley is a small town and the Potting Shed is a very busy bar. Over the course of two months I had been spotted in there with Hev several times; there and in the Shama too.

I guess being seen together just once might have gone unremarked but being seen multiple times and on seven separate occasions was too much. It won us prominence on the Bank's grapevine.

Not that I ever admitted anything. As a "temp" gossip didn't really matter to me but I assumed that it mattered to Hev so, when work colleagues "innocently" asked why I was so often seen out and about with her, I blithely said it was a girl thing.

"We have both travelled," I'd add, '"so we have lots in common."

My weasel of a boss was a little more direct and not in the least tactful. Just as directly I as good as told him to fuck off. Showing a lot more sense than I'd anticipated, he obliged.

Anyway, screw him; let's get back to yesterday evening, with me still lingering.

One of the IT night shift crew got me talking at the coffee machine (predictably enough). Nick was mid-twenties and definitely in that narrow band of men in my spectrum of acceptability.

'Off to see Snow White,' he joked. 'Aren't you the lucky one?'

'Do you fancy her?' I replied, admitting nothing, as per usual.

'Have I got a pulse?'

'I won't answer that,' said I, 'not unless you're Chris Tarrant in disguise and it's the million pound question.'

'I haven't got a million pounds,' he said. Then suddenly earnest: 'But I could run to a night out.'

'Me and you, you mean?'

He nodded and, seeing my dubious expression, hurried on: 'Everyone thinks you're a lez; going out with me will stop the rumours, won't it?'

I laughed. If I had been sticking around for the Christmas party I very possibly could have fucked Nick. Well, I'd have fucked him ten times before Gary, anyway. But guys were not on my agenda just then, not even acceptable ones.

'Sorry,' I said, 'nice offer and well-presented, but not for me.'

'It's Gary isn't it?' he said woefully.

I laughed again, this time like a drain.

'Trust me,' I said, recovering a degree of composure, kissing Nick demurely on his forehead. 'You are so far ahead of Gary in the queue it's untrue.'

'Are you a lez?'

'Is that any concern of yours?'

'I suppose not, but will I ever have any chance at all?'

'Ask me again at Christmas.'

And oops, I'd be gone before August . . .

Not that Nick needed to know that anytime soon.

*****

As usual I arrived at our rendezvous ten minutes early (a careers teacher had once drilled into me the need to "never arrive later than ten minutes early"; I'd doubted her at the time but now believe she was right).

Also as usual Hev wasn't there. She jokingly called herself "the late Heather Hunter" but her time wasn't strictly her own. Not during Mondays to Fridays, seven in the morning to midnight. All sorts of executive emergencies could delay her. She never left her office before eight or nine under any normal circumstances. For her to leave before six to meet the likes of me was a major statement of intent.

In fact it was beyond that; I didn't know who else she was fucking, but Wednesdays were the only days she made an exception.