Tonight's the Night: Sarah-Jayne's big surprise (Angie's adventures Book 6)

by Limey Lady

  Angie didn’t miss Gloria’s assessing glance. Gloria was straighter than straight and not averse to a bit of younger bar manager, she concluded. And good luck to her. There was no competition there, was there?

  ‘A pint of Marston’s and a cheese and tom,’ she said.

  Gloria gave her a tolerant smile and started to pull a beer, biceps flexing. She was without a shadow of a doubt, a lady who knew her way about the back of a bar.

  Hmmm, Angie thought, watching those muscles, what a pity.

  Then, grinning: More power to Joe’s . . . er . . . elbow!

  As Angie turned away from the bar she saw Ruby approaching. Ruby held up her hands, perhaps in a placating way. Even so, her long green talons slashed through the air.

  Angie met her halfway, sandwich in one hand, Marston’s in the other.

  ‘Don’t attack a defenceless girl,’ she said, trying to sound amiable.

  At that moment the bar’s doors opened and a swarm of freshers flooded in.

  ‘Your round,’ adolescent voices cried.

  ‘Mine’s a Carlsberg.’

  ‘I’m not going to attack,’ Ruby countered. Then, lowering her voice and dropping the aggression: ‘Do you really want to fuck with me?’

  ‘No,’ Angie said truthfully. ‘But I’m not keen to be on the end of a vendetta for the next year. If fucking with you makes that go away then fine, why not?’

  ‘What makes you think I want to fuck with you?’

  ‘Revenge,’ Angie suggested, ‘maybe bitterness or contrariness. Who knows? But like I said; if fucking with you makes it go away, why not?’

  ‘So you’d let me? To make it go away, I mean.’

  ‘Not so easily,’ said Angie. ‘I’ll fuck with you but I will not be bullied. If we go for it there won’t be any show of superiority. Not from you, anyway. Try smacking me and I’ll wallop your ass black and blue.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Ruby.

  ‘No, I mean it. I’m ten times as strong as you and I won’t take any shit. Fuck like a lover and we’ll get on okay. Pull any stunts and it’ll be you coming in here on a dog lead. Do you understand?’

  ‘You’re all mouth.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Angie. ‘So come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough.’

  Ruby’s eyes clouded. ‘Maybe I need to think about it.’

  ‘Take a week or two,’ Angie said generously. ‘And be warned: if you demean Charlie in public again in the meantime I’ll thrash your ass, like it or not.’

  *****

  Being a considerate friend Angie had a fresh pint and a baguette waiting for Madhu when she arrived, full of news about newly-made buddies.

  ‘Everyone’s so friendly,’ she gushed. ‘We’re like a big family already.’

  Then, casting around and seeing Ruby hunched over a table in the Corner: ‘Witchiepoo or what?’

  Angie gave her a look.

  ‘HR Pufnstuf,’ Madhu enlarged. ‘Don’t you watch the old re-runs?’

  ‘I’m more into watching women’s rugby,’ said Angie, ‘in my dreams.’

  ‘Witchiepoo’s like the Wicked Witch of the West, but not so green,’ Madhu explained. ‘They’re both as evil, though.’

  ‘I think I’ll stick to dreaming about big-breasted prop-forwards.’

  Madhu chuckled. ‘You’re not alienating me, you know.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No, no matter how hard you try. And what’s on for tonight?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Have you another date with . . . with that girl who isn’t what she seems.’

  ‘No.’ Angie tried to assume control. No way should a girl who slept with a teddy have her on pins.

  No way.

  Except it was those eyes, wasn’t it? Eyes like that should not be allowed.

  ‘I’ve a date on Wednesday,’ she said, ‘and another on Friday. It’s got nothing to do with you really, but I can confirm neither is with a girl who isn’t what she seems.’

  ‘Am I going to be tossing and turning both nights, waiting for you to come home?’

  ‘Madhu, please . . . we’re not engaged or anything.’

  ‘We’re looking out for each other. To me that’s more important than being engaged.’

  Angie’s sigh came up from the soles of her Docs.

  ‘Yes,’ she said as patiently as she could, ‘it is important. So tomorrow I’ll be home in the early hours. And Friday I probably won’t be home until after dawn. Is that what you want to hear?’

  ‘Yes and no,’ said Madhu, sipping her Marston’s.

  A short silence ensued. Well, a short silence ensued between them. Elsewhere the bar was heaving and the air was full of laughter and ribald comments. Tom Robinson was on the juke, glad to be gay.

  Although she wasn’t the world’s most sociable person Angie struggled with gaps in conversation. She struggled with Madhu’s knowing little smile too. “Yes and no” . . . what sort of an answer was that?

  ‘Go on, ask me,’ she said.

  Madhu smiled some more. ‘Ask you what?’

  ‘Don’t you want to know who I’m sleeping with tomorrow and Friday?’

  ‘No,’ said Madhu, ‘but I do want to know where you’re taking me tonight.’

  Chapter Eight

  Angie and Madhu slept together on Tuesday night but as friends, not lovers. Leastways Angie insisted it was only a friendly, cuddly arrangement designed to banish homesickness once and for all. For her part, a friendly, cuddly arrangement was as far as they could possibly go. Madhu was simply too nice to be taken advantage of.

  Besides, she’d told Madhu’s mum that she’d take care of her. In her opinion “taking care” certainly did not include fucking at the first opportunity.

  It followed that the occasion called for iron self-control and a cold shower in anticipation.

  Not that Angie really bothered with a cold shower. No, she took Madhu out bar-hopping around town instead. And she made sure they had plenty to drink, to guarantee they would get home sleepy and ready for the land of Nod.

  No harm could be done when they were sleeping, could it?

  Well, could it?

  Normally Angie slept in the altogether. That night she slept in panties and a T-shirt. Naturally, Madhu slept in her pyjamas. And sure enough, they dropped off almost as soon as their heads hit the pillow.

  Teddy was, by the way, on the chest of drawers, watching over them.

  Making sure they were good.

  3:14 and Angie came awake. Madhu was half on top of her, breathing steadily as she slept on.

  For a moment or two Angie wondered what had made her wake up. It couldn’t have been any sort of noise because the halls were (for once) as quiet as a grave. Maybe she’d simply run out of sleep.

  Or maybe it was Madhu’s hand, stroking her tummy.

  Angie smiled in the darkness. The blinds were closed and the lights were off. Visibility wasn’t good but she could see enough to know Madhu’s eyes were shut. She was still away in Dreamland and had no control over her hand.

  What could the girl possibly be dreaming about?

  And how had she got her hand into Angie’s T?

  That was what woke her, she realized; not sound or light but feel. She’d been roused by soft fingers on bare skin.

  Roused or aroused?

  Hmmm. Angie’s nipples were semi-hard but then they usually were, so it was tricky to say.

  Or was it? She wasn’t going to deny that being stroked was a nice experience. She had always liked being stroked but this time, being stroked by a girl away in Dreamland . . .

  Well, it was an experience to file away under “naughty but nice”. Letting it happen probably counted as taking advantage. Obviously, having resolved to respect and protect Madhu’s innocence, Angie should not be enjoying it so much. But should she physically stop it?

  Somewhere, in the distant past, Angie had been warned about sleepwalkers. She was sure that it was dangerous to wake a sleepwalker; that it co
uld cause a heart attack or something even worse. Okay, so Madhu was sleep-stroking, not -walking, but surely the same rule applied.

  Or maybe she just wanted the same rule to apply.

  While Angie smothered a chuckle Madhu moved. Her beautiful mane of hair was now in Angie’s face. She couldn’t really see it but she could feel it all right; feel it and smell it.

  Madhu’s hair smelt of peppermint. It smelt and felt wonderful.

  And her hand was moving too. It was moving up inside Angie’s T, not stopping until it cupped her tit.

  Her nipple was suddenly capable of cutting glass. Somehow Angie choked back a gasp.

  ‘Madhu,’ she murmured.

  In response Madhu raised her head and kissed her, finding her mouth with uncanny precision.

  Back on K floor her kiss had been little more than a flirty peck. This was a full-blown, no-holds-barred lover’s kiss. It scrambled Angie’s senses and tore up her resolutions.

  Well, it almost tore up her resolutions. Somehow keeping her hands to herself, Angie kissed back and allowed her tits to be rubbed, pinched, thumbed and stroked. Her head was swirling and the highway that ran between her nips and pussy was buzzing with positive vibes.

  Omigod I’m going to cum!

  She did, as well: three times in quick succession. Then Madhu’s hand fell still and her kissing stepped up a gear. Angie loved the way she kissed. She closed her eyes and . . .

  Next thing she knew it was morning.

  *****

  Madhu was already awake, half on top again, smiling the world’s brightest smile.

  ‘What an incredible dream I had last night,’ she said, her eyes sparkling and dancing.

  ‘Me too,’ Angie agreed. ‘Er, do you know you’ve got your hand up my shirt?’

  ‘Yes, I do, actually. Do you know your nipples are hard?’

  ‘The two events aren’t entirely unconnected.’

  ‘In that case I’ll keep my hand where it is. Can I have another kiss?’

  ‘You remember the kiss, do you? It wasn’t part of the dream?’

  ‘Yes Angie, I remember lots of kisses. And I want more.’

  Not waiting for an invitation, climbing fully on board like a lusty pirate, Madhu homed in. That amazing hair of hers cascaded over Angie’s face. The top two buttons of her jim-jams were totally undone; her tits were at the point of spilling out. She was a sight to behold, all right.

  ‘What about Teddy?’ Angie demurred, somewhat breathlessly.

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘He might be offended, or jealous, even.’

  ‘Stuff Teddy; he can put his paws over his eyes if he doesn’t want to watch.’

  *****

  Wednesday night sex with Charlie was energetic, fun and strangely scary. Charlie insisted on using her place as the venue and kept insisting that Ruby would be out for hours.

  ‘She’s taking her blonde to the Cat’s Whiskers,’ she said. ‘It’s Ladies’ Night. That means it’s in for free and cheap drinks for female students. And they’ll need time to fuck afterwards, won’t they? She won’t be home before four o’clock at the earliest.’

  ‘So you don’t really know when she’ll be back, exactly?’

  ‘No, I don’t know if she’ll be back at four or just before lunchtime. But trust me; she will end up fucking that blonde. We’ll be safe as houses here.’

  Angie admired Charlie’s confidence but didn’t necessarily share it. She spent the evening fucking with one eye on the bedroom door, expecting it to fly open at any second . . . expecting Witchiepoo to ride in on her broomstick. Talk about sexual tension!

  Talk about tension that was impossible to burn off!

  By three in the morning even Charlie was getting nervous. She changed the sheets while Angie had a swift shower.

  ‘No dog leads,’ Angie said after they’d kissed goodnight. ‘It’ll be me smacking your ass if that happens again.’

  ‘Promises, promises,’ Charlie said, grinning.

  Angie hadn’t gone twenty yards down the deserted street when she heard a car approaching. Acting on instinct, she stepped into the cover of an alleyway and looked back at Charlie’s terrace, just in time to see a taxi pull up directly outside, its engine still running.

  As Angie watched doors opened and two passengers got out: Ruby and the LGBT blonde.

  And they went into the house while the taxi moved on, looking for another late fare.

  Oh my, she thought, is Charlie in for a shock!

  Waiting ten minutes didn’t make Angie any the wiser. She was convinced that Charlie hadn’t expected to have a “surprise” guest. But she wasn’t convinced the blonde was a surprise guest; at least not the three-in-a-bed sort of a guest. Perhaps Ruby had just invited her in for a coffee?

  And perhaps Shergar had won the latest Grand National, ridden by Lord Lucan and sponsored by that well-renowned Barings Bank.

  Images filled Angie’s head as she walked back to campus: Ruby and the blonde taking Charlie on her (needlessly clean) sheets; or maybe Charlie and Ruby taking the blonde . . .

  Wasn’t that gossip for tomorrow in the Corner!

  Not that Angie ever gossiped. It was just at moments like that she wished she did.

  Chapter Nine

  Madhu intercepted Angie on her way to 444. This time she wasn't sobbing or in the least distressed. No, beckoning like a top class whore, she lured her into 443. And, ignoring murmured protests about it not being fair to “jump from one girl to another” she kissed her and dragged her onto the bed.

  ‘I want to sleep with you every night,’ she announced next morning. ‘I know kissing and cuddling is not all what you want, but it works for me. Well, maybe it does. Maybe I want more too.’

  ‘I don’t know what I want,’ Angie confessed. ‘I just know that I have to protect you, and especially from the likes of me.’

  ‘You are sweet, beautiful and great at kissing,’ said Madhu. ‘Being protected from you is the last thing I need.’

  Images of mocking birds and albatrosses filled Angie’s head.

  ‘I’m bad news,’ she said. ‘I’m the last person you want to get involved with.’

  ‘You’re my best-ever friend,’ Madhu countered.

  ‘Being friends is great,’ Angie agreed. ‘But I’m sinful and bad. You are pure and good. It’s a mix of oil and water, isn’t it?’

  ‘I won’t be at all jealous,’ said Madhu. ‘I’m as impressed by your lifestyle as anyone on the Corner. I’ll applaud you whenever you pull a new chick.’

  ‘Pull a new chick,’ Angie echoed. She laughed then strove to be serious again. ‘My lifestyle tends to get complicated. I’ve got Ruby after my blood already. Sooner or later I’ll probably upset somebody else. I don’t want to get you involved in feuds by association.’

  ‘Too late, I’m associated, Madhu countered. ‘We can be good together, we really can, and not just as friends. I really, really want you to fuck me.’

  Angie flinched at that. She hadn’t previously heard Madhu swear even mildly.

  ‘That’s how you put it,’ Madhu went on, ‘isn’t it? You don’t make love, you fuck. Ask me, love scares you.’

  Fair point, Angie conceded. Aloud, she said: ‘I love all of my lovers.’

  ‘But how many do you make love to?’

  ‘You’re arguing semantics.’

  ‘No I am not. You fuck your lovers because you’re afraid of falling in love. That’s cool by me. As I said, I want you to fuck me too.’

  Angie drew in a deep breath. ‘I want to fuck you but I can’t. I’m looking out for you; right?’

  ‘Not in the way I want you to look out for me. I know you’ll never fall in love with me . . . not in the way Romeo and Juliet fell in love . . . but we could have the passion.’

  ‘Your mum would never forgive me if I fucked you.’

  ‘Actually I think she might be glad.’

  ‘Madhu . . . do you even know what girls do together? Do you know what your mum and
Auntie Eileen get up to in bed?’

  ‘No,’ Madhu admitted, ‘do you know what your parents get up to in bed?’