by Limey Lady
But how did she prefer it, precisely?
Picturing her ass strutting down a crowded street, it was easy to take her to be a woman who wanted to be in charge: in other words a woman very much like Miss Pearce. But on the phone she had been all soft and compliant.
On the phone she’d been very much a woman who wanted to be fucked.
Even now, experienced as she was, Angie struggled with other women’s desires. So far as she could tell they all chopped and changed like the weather. Take Miss Pearce; one minute she could be strict and in command. The next she could switch to “Veronica mode” and be writhing and begging.
Grinning to herself, Angie drained her glass.
The world would be very boring if everyone was always exactly the same, wouldn’t it?
Chapter Three
By one thirty Angie had bagged a reasonable remote table and was sitting at it with another Guinness and a freshly made spritzer. Her heart leapt as Felicity came into the bar.
Like omigod wow!
The working day clothes were gone. In their place Felicity was wearing pink trainers, black leggings (which perfectly showcased her shapely ass) and a jumper . . .
Her jumper was woollen with horizontal stripes in pink and white. It clung to her in all the right places and told the world she’d not bothered with a bra.
Angie got a dozen jealous glances when she caught Felicity’s attention and beckoned her over.
‘You look good enough to eat,’ she said in greeting. ‘I can’t tell you how glad I am you came.’
Felicity laughed at the double double-entendre.
‘Ditto and likewise,’ she said. ‘Is that drink for me?’
Angie had put the spritzer beside her rather than across the table. ‘Of course it is.’ Then, patting the chair positioned close to her right: ‘Please take a pew.’
Felicity leaned in first for air kisses which skimmed both of Angie’s cheeks. Angie waited until she sat before leaning in to kiss her mouth, keeping it mild but going for something that said a lot more than just “hello”.
‘You must be hungry,’ she said as they broke for air, ‘all that bench-pressing and what have you. Can I get you a snack?’
‘I usually go to a sandwich bar down the road,’ said Felicity. ‘It’s cheaper than in here, if not quite so healthy.’
Angie thrust a bar menu at her. ‘Pick something. I insist.’
‘Okay, but I’ll pay for it.’
‘Like heck you will. This is my treat. So pick something.’
‘What are you having?’
‘I already had a month’s cholesterol in a barm cake. You’ll be on a relative diet whatever you chose.’
‘I’ll have a grilled bacon roll,’ Felicity said after some consideration.
‘You can have something more substantial if you like.’
‘No thank you. That’ll do for me.’
Angie went to the bar and ordered the roll and another round of drinks.
‘Tell me about you,’ Felicity said as she retook her seat.
She got the abridged version. Angie was, she said, an undergraduate reading Mathematical Sciences at a nearby university. Outside of her studying her interests were limited to LGBT and Lesbian Society affairs.
Then she laughed.
‘That sounds as if I’m a political mover and shaker. I’m not. I’m really only interested in having affairs with certain members of LGBT and the Lesbian Society. And trust me, I don’t mean affairs of state.’
‘What type of “certain members”?’ Felicity wondered.
‘The female type,’ Angie said truthfully. ‘Orientation and looks don’t come into it, much. Not that I don’t like pretty girls,’ she added hastily.
Felicity really was pretty. Back in the sex shop she’d been wearing quite heavy makeup. Okay, it was professionally and tastefully applied, but heavy nonetheless. Now, recently showered, she wore none apart from a faint touch of the palest pink lipstick.
She always looked good but now she was even better. Despite her blonde hair she was the sort who obviously tanned whatever the weather. Yes, even in a Manchester winter.
She also had very fetching sprays of brown freckles high on her cheeks, under her icy-blue eyes.
‘Good enough to eat,’ Angie murmured, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
‘Why thank you.’ Felicity chuckled. Then, more seriously: ‘Are any of your female affairs particularly meaningful?’
‘No, I’m determined to stay a free agent. Love as many of ‘em as I can . . . That’s my approach.’
Felicity smiled and finished her first spritzer.
‘Your turn,’ Angie said into the silence. ‘I’ve shown you mine. Now show me yours.’
‘I left school a decade ago,’ Felicity began, ‘after my A-levels . . .’
Her story wasn’t elaborated much more than Angie’s. Since school she’d worked in “retail”, initially in fashion outlets. The novelty of that had soon worn off, though. Then, five years ago, she’d got her big chance in the sex shop and never looked back.
‘I love everything about it,’ she said. ‘Nervous customers, over-confident customers . . . the chitchat we have between us salesgirls about the various merits of the products.’
‘Would that be chitchat amongst girls with personal knowledge?’
Felicity just chuckled and reached for her second drink.
‘No, really,’ Angie persisted, expecting a denial, only wanting to progress the conversation. ‘Have you tried out all of those hundreds of products?’
‘Naturally I have; most of them too many times to mention. How could I possibly give tips and advice if I hadn’t?’
‘Omigod, I think you mean it.’
‘I do.’
‘What about the male-specific ones?’
‘One of my colleagues tests most of those.’ Felicity chuckled again. ‘I’m not entirely a man-free zone, but we have an agreement. I get first go with all the girl-specific samples and she gets all the men’s. Afterwards we compare notes and decide whether to venture into the unknown.’
‘You mean you sometimes go with a guy to check out an interesting new device?’
‘Well, not very often, but sometimes I have to see it for myself. And sometimes I have to sleep with my colleague so she can see for herself, too. It’s hard work, but someone has to do it.’
‘Dedication to duty,’ said Angie, ‘I can’t fault that.’
Then, curious: ‘Have you anyone who’s meaningful at the moment?’
‘Yes and no.’ Felicity shrugged. ‘I’m not so sure. My girlfriend . . .’
She clapped her mouth shut as a waiter put her sandwich on the table in front of her. Judging from his rosy cheeks, he’d caught her gist.
And, judging from the way she picked her story back up, Felicity didn’t give a fig for his sensitivities.
‘Roxanne’s been backpacking for the last six months,’ she said. ‘Last I heard she was getting ready to set off into the Australian outback with her travelling companions.’
‘So she’s not alone.’
‘No; there are four of them: two girls, two guys. And, before you ask, they’re not platonic. They’d been taking turns to shag each other during the planning stage, and that lasted ages.’
‘You mean they coupled off?’
‘I mean they coupled off on a rotating basis. By now, six months in two tents they’ll be . . .’
Leaving the sentence hanging, Felicity had a bite of bacon roll.
‘And that’s not counting folk they’ve met on the way,’ she resumed. ‘I daren’t think how many notches Roxy’ll have on her bedpost. There can’t be much of her bedpost left.’
Angie grinned. ‘Who have you been trying out your new toys with?’
‘I’m flat-sharing while Roxy’s away,’ said Felicity. ‘My two lesbian friends had a spare room when they finally got it together, if you know what I mean. I’m currently in the one they don’t need anymore.’
>
‘And they’ve been helping, have they?’
‘They’ve helped me on several occasions.’
Angie’s grin widened: ‘Have they done that individually or both at once?’
‘Both at once,’ Felicity laughed, ‘at least officially. Unofficially my lips are sealed. Enough of that; tell me about your experiences with your first Double-Your-Pleasure.’
Five minutes later, after listening to Angie’s exceedingly frank account, she laughed some more. ‘It sounds to me you’re more of a giver than a taker.’
‘I’ve always liked giving,’ said Angie. ‘I like receiving too, of course, but giving has always been my big thing. And giving a girl one with a toy like that . . .’
The waiter was hovering again. This time his cheeks were brick-red rather than rosy. This time it was Angie who didn’t give a fig about him listening in.
‘We’ll have more drinks, please,’ she said as he collected Felicity’s empty plate. ‘Put them on 444.’
Felicity stared at her.
‘Where was I?’ said Angie. ‘Oh, yes. That toy is something else. Every time I feel those ridges rubbing on my clit I think of what you promised me. And you were right about it in every respect. I undersold it when I said it should be renamed “triple” or “quadruple”. I’m going to think of it as “sextuple” from now on. That has a ring to it, doesn’t it?’’
‘444 sounds like a room number,’ said Felicity.
‘It is,’ Angie replied. ‘But don’t think I’m presuming anything. I’ve been impulsive, not presumptuous. I saw a sign in the lobby, encouraging me to enjoy the “Manchester Experience” and the prices were so cheap I had to go for it.’
Felicity was still staring at her. Her expression was suddenly difficult to read.
‘Honestly,’ Angie rushed on, ‘I wasn’t even certain you’d actually turn up. And I never intended to drag you into anything you didn’t want to do. Plan A was to have this chat then to take you out for a bit of a pub crawl. Believe it or not, I’ve never visited Manchester socially. Well, apart from a quick raid on the shops, I haven’t.’
‘And what was Plan B?’
‘To go out by myself on a solo pub crawl; anything being preferable to going back alone to an empty hall of residence.’
‘Good recovery,’ Felicity conceded, smiling a little but still mostly inscrutable.
Angie couldn’t help but glance at the other girl’s chest. Her nipples had been quite visible through her jumper all along, maybe semi-erect. Now they weren’t semi anything; they were standing out loud and proud, whistling and waving.
‘I must admit the idea of inviting you to my room did occur to me,’ Angie went on softly. ‘I am human, after all. But I never presumed.’
Felicity reached down into her sports bag and produced a plain paper bag. It obviously held some sort of rectangular box.
‘I brought you this,’ she said, passing it across.
The logo-free bag was identical to the one containing Angie’s new purchase. Waiting until the waiter had been and gone, leaving them their latest round, she examined its contents, using the table as a makeshift screen.
‘”Wireless, remote-controlled love egg,”’ she said, reading from the blurb on the front of the box.
‘That’s right,’ said Felicity, ‘have you already got one?’
‘No, but I know what it is . . . I think.’
‘So what is it?’
‘It’s some subtle sort of vibrator.’
‘Subtle,’ echoed Felicity, chuckling, ‘as if!’
‘Okay then, maybe it’s not so subtle.’
‘It isn’t. It’s outrageously candid. And using it is to die for. I was going to ask you to try it out. And I was going to invite you back here afterwards, to talk through its pros and cons. As research, I mean. So I could pass your feedback on to other interested parties.’
‘Like a practical survey sort of thing?’
‘Something along those lines, yes. I was going to reward you by buying you a few drinks and letting you keep the egg.’
‘That’s very generous of you.’
‘The egg’s a sample, so I got it for next to nothing. But it’s brand-new and unused. And trust me; I was really looking forward to hearing your opinions.’
‘But . . .’
‘But you’ve been presumptuous enough to get a room so why wait?’ Felicity laughed and grinned and patted her hand. ‘Drink your drink, lass, then I’ll show you exactly how it works.’
Chapter Four
The first thing Angie did in 444 was something that she’d wanted to do forever: she hung the DO NOT DISTURB sign out on the door handle. Then, after pulling every bolt and turning every lock, she did something she’d wanted to do ever since Saturday.
She kissed Felicity.
Standing there in her room, mouth to mouth, she reckoned they were a good fit. She was a couple of inches taller, much broader across the shoulders and three or four stones heavier than Felicity. Or, in other words, she was built like a man and Felicity was built like a babe. Common sense decreed they had to look good together.
Not that she wasted time on common sense. No, there was nothing remotely “hello” about that first private kiss; it started off hot and only got hotter.
Felicity’s hands gripped Angie’s ass. Not to be outdone, she gripped Felicity’s tight buns through the thin material of her leggings. And one of them started to grind groins.
Well, maybe both of them started. It was the sort of situation where things just happen.
Hands gripping ever more strongly, lower bodies grinding stronger still, Angie became aware of heat building rapidly inside her. She would have gasped but Felicity was fiercely sucking her tongue. Fuck it; this wasn’t a moment to dither.
Angie thrust hard with her slivery organ. Even lodged in place as it was, between Felicity’s and the roof of her mouth, it moved.
So too did Angie’s insides.
She juddered and contracted once, twice, thrice and then felt the gush.
Another pair of jeans ruined.
Hey, ho!
Felicity moved with her, their groins continuing to grind in unison then, perhaps five minutes after Angie’s first big release, she pushed her away.
‘My word, lass,’ she said raggedly, ‘you like to go for it, don’t you?’
Angie just grinned at her, equally ragged.
‘So here I am,’ Felicity resumed. ‘I take I you want to shag me with your latest new toy.’
It was a statement, not a question.
‘Of course I do,’ said Angie. ‘I already told you that I’m only human.’
‘Here’s the deal,’ the blonde went on. ‘I’m happy to let you take me all afternoon . . . but only if you let me have my girly fun first.’
Unsure what she meant, Angie shrugged. ‘Sounds promising; tell me more.’
‘We’re going to kick off with the egg,’ said Felicity. ‘It’s like all sex acts . . . good but much better when someone else does it for you. But you’re sweet and innocent when it comes to eggs. So I’ll give you a solo demo first, and then we can use it on each other. Okay?’
‘And then I get to shag you?’
‘Yes, lass, and then you get to shag me.’
‘How do you want it?’
‘Do you mean once I’ve finished egging around and opened my legs?’
‘Yes.’
This time the blonde’s laugh was somewhat breathless. ‘That’s rather down to you and your sextuple toy; isn’t it?’
‘Sounds promising,’ Angie repeated. ‘Go on, duck, after you.’
*****
Aware Felicity wanted a measure of control, Angie slowly stripped for her. Then watched as Felicity did likewise, almost dying when it transpired she had a white T-shirt under her jumper.
How unfair was that!
And just how near diamond-hard must those nips be to stand out so far through two layers!!
Naked, Felicity perched on the edge of
the bed and adroitly opened the box. ‘This is the remote,’ she said, holding up something similar to the contraption Angie’s dad used for his TV. ‘And this is the egg. It’s made of silicone and has several settings.’