by Limey Lady
‘Frequently,’ Angie replied. ‘When have you got in mind?’
‘I get every second Wednesday afternoon off.’
‘Brilliant. Wednesday afternoons are lecture-free for me. They’re reserved for sporting activities. Shall we say in here in a fortnight, at one thirty?’
‘Yes, I’ll be here, ready to be sporting and ready for a very in-depth egg report. And I’m paying for the room next time. You can wine me and dine me later on.’
‘Okay, wining and dining it is. And you can have your egg up you-know-where.’
‘It’s your egg, not my egg.’
‘Whatever.’
‘Sounds like a deal.’
Waving her friend off Angie went back to 444. She didn’t have to vacate until eleven so, rehanging out the DO NOT DISTURB sign, she treated herself to an hour or so of solitary Double-Your-Pleasure.
Yes, even after a night of hot, rampant sex, she was up for more.
Inexcusable though it was, she did self-justify. For most of yesterday she’d been riding the pony. The poor old horse needed help in catching up.
Honestly!
And, sad to say, she did not think about Felicity for one second. No, she truly and very sincerely liked the girl, but she’d already been filed away in a drawer marked “the week after next”. Felicity was a good laugh, great at sex and without doubt a pleasure to enjoy again.
She was temporarily in the past, however.
And other past lovers warranted more immediate attention.
Angie was itching for the new university term to begin. Never mind the poor old horse; she had lots of catching up to do. And right then, perhaps thanks to the motion of that toy inside her, she was thinking of one lover in particular.
Sarah-Jayne was transgender. In Angie’s opinion she was a girl with a cock, not a guy with tits.
Truth was that Angie loved penetration. In a perfect world she’d be a girl with a cock herself, running riot and rampaging amongst like-minded females.
Like-minded females who hadn’t much time for men but weren’t averse to having long, hard objects deep inside them.
Sometimes Angie wondered about herself. Attraction-wise, she was exclusively girl. Okay, she could appreciate the odd good-looking guy, but she rarely wanted to fuck with one. Yet Sarah-Jayne was a bit of an oddity.
Not that there was much odd about her. Her looks and body were superb. Her rather large cock aside, she hadn’t any mannish features whatsoever.
Fucking with her was great fun.
Slowly, gently frigging herself, Angie recalled their last, most recent time. Although she could be hard forever Sarah-Jayne needed regular timeouts. Ever considerate, Angie usually used a hand on her as she “rested”.
To be quite frank, Angie probably abused Sarah-Jayne, taking full advantage of any occasional lull in proceedings to amuse herself in a lazy, indulgent sort of a way.
Yes she’d relentlessly play with her, knowing the poor thing was already spent, that she wasn’t really in the market for another cum . . . and was definitely nowhere near the market for two or three cums in relatively quick succession.
Her semen no longer spurting, more like gently trickling over Angie’s hand and Sarah-Jayne’s board-flat tummy.
Yum, yum!
That last time had been a week or so before the end of Angie’s first term. It felt like forever ago.
It felt like time to do it again.
*****
The train journey didn’t take long. Angie was standing in the doorway of the Union Bar soon after it opened.
Standing there, breathing in the smoke and the beer fumes, loving every second of everything.
As a non-smoker (as far as tobacco was concerned) Angie had always wondered why she was into smoky bars in such a big way. She wasn’t an alcoholic, at least not yet, anyway, and the combination of smells should not have affected her so intrinsically.
But it did.
And she knew it always would.
The bar was fuller than it had been a week or so ago and the jukebox was, as always, blaring out.
Apparently some stupid with a flare gun had fucked everything up.
Her eyes instinctively moved to Lesbian’s Corner. In keeping with the rest of the bar, the average age there had dropped from mid-thirties to early twenties. The undergrads were back, not all of them, but enough to make a difference.
Bad news was that her particular crowd of lesbian undergrads wasn’t as yet well represented. Ruby aside, she had no favourites to round on.
And Ruby was hardly a favourite.
Quickly moving her eyes away from the green-haired girl, Angie assessed the other customers. All the video machines were occupied, mostly by spotty-faced lads, and so too were the three darts boards.
Well, less spottily occupied.
Angie laughed.
Eileen had to be one of the best darts hustlers on earth. She was predictably on her usual board, the one with least stuffing bursting out of the trebles, playing a dozen or so youngsters. They were mostly but by no means exclusively male, engrossed in a game of Killer, all of them imminently about to become a pound in the pocket poorer.
Meaning Eileen was very imminently about to become at last a tenner richer.
Yes, yet again.
Humming along to the music, Angie headed for the bar.
Dum, dum, dum; dum, dum-de-dum . . .
“Smoke on the water,” Ian Gillan intoned.
“A fire in the sky,” Angie dutifully responded.
From behind the bar Joe greeted her with a smile. ‘Angie, I’ve missed you, babe!’
For once his attention wasn’t totally fixed down there on her tits so she took his words at face value. In fact, overcome with the occasion, she leant over and kissed him on the lips.
Okay, so she kept her tongue to herself, but it wasn’t just a mate-to-mate kiss.
And screw the Corner. Let the gossipy cows think what they liked.
‘I missed you too,’ she told Joe. ‘Is the Marston’s still on form?’
‘Wash your mouth out,’ he countered, mock-indignant. ‘My Marston’s is never less than perfect.’
‘In that case I’d better have a pint. I’ve got crappy Everards coming out of my ears.’
‘Everards isn’t so bad,’ said Joe, pulling her a pint.
‘I know it isn’t, but I’ve been deprived. Try finding a pint of Landlord in my neck of the woods. You’ve got more chance in London.’
Joe scowled at that. Local opinion was torn between Marston’s, Landlord and Boddingtons. Because of “brewery pressure” he wasn’t allowed to sell Landlord. And lots of his customers hailed from “over the moss” in Yorkshire, where “Boddies” was taken to be a dirty word, Marston’s was unheard of and Tetley’s and Taylor’s ruled supreme.
Needless to report, Joe openly despised “shitty Yorkshire ale” whilst secretly wishing he had access to twenty barrels a week.
‘Who’s in?’ Angie asked.
Joe didn’t need a translation.
‘Billy’s back,’ he said, ‘but I haven’t seen her since yesterday dinner. Apart from her you’re stuck with Ruby. Unless you fancy . . .’
‘How’s Professor Parkinson?’ said Angie, bisecting him before he could offer his services.
‘She’s . . . Well, she’s the same as always.’
‘So she’s in here once or twice a year, is she?’
‘No,’ Joe admitted. ‘She’s in here most nights.’
‘Quelle surprise!’
‘Listen, Angie . . .’
‘No, you listen to me. She’s obviously doing something positive for you. Enjoy it while you can.’
‘But . . .’
‘But absolutely nothing, Joseph; I’m a ship in the night. Like Be Bop Deluxe, except less reliable.’
Joe looked gutted but still smiled. ‘I suppose a free pint won’t change your mind.’
Angie checked for snoops before replying.
‘It might help you get
back into my knickers. But not on a permanent basis.’
As if on cue the music changed. Possibly as far removed from Deep Purple as could be, Elton John and Kiki Dee were in harmony, determined not to stray.
Strange partnership or not, the old tune resonated. Angie almost believed she was listening to a pair of love birds.
“I couldn’t if I tried . . .” Kiki endorsed.
Speaking of which, Joe was still staring soulfully into her eyes. ‘Okay,’ he said, his smile a shade less strained. ‘In that case please have two free pints and a complimentary baguette.’
*****
Angie’s plan was to eat her complimentary baguette at the bar, washing it down with her first free pint before going to join Eileen over by the darts boards.
Eileen being, of course, not quite the totally straight girl she seemed to be on first sight.
But Ruby had other ideas.
‘Hey, Ange,’ she said, deliberately bumping her short ass into her at the bar, getting up close and very personal.
It would have been rude to ignore her. ‘Hey Rubes,’ Angie replied, ‘You’re looking good.’
‘Not as good as you, babe, wanna go fuck?’
Angie hesitated. She’d got off to a bad start with Ruby by sleeping with her “wifey”. That hadn’t been entirely her fault; “wifey” had neglected to mention Ruby’s existence. Hell, if she’d known she would have kept well away from Charlie.
That is to say she might possibly have kept away. If nothing else she’d have played a little harder to get.
Anyway Ruby had soon found out and gone off on one. They’d been at daggers drawn for weeks. And Ruby had been quite nasty with it, not least because Angie had paid Charlie several more visits.
No way was she going to obey the green-haired gobshite’s orders to keep her hands off.
Not when Ruby wasn’t asking very nicely . . . And definitely not when she was still enjoying the “sinful” aspect almost as much as Charlie was.
(As in Charlie who liked confrontation and Ruby’s subsequent punishments way beyond reason.)
It hadn’t been a good public situation, though. Rather than calming over time Ruby had got evermore abusive. Angie hadn’t been afraid of her but eventually proposed sex in a bid to call a truce.
Anything for an easy life!
In her opinion they’d got to the point where the choice was to fight or fuck. And fighting wasn’t the solution to anything, was it?
So why not take the peaceful route and offer a revenge fuck to dampen Ruby’s fire?
It had worked, too. Maybe it had worked too well. The green-haired witch had been back for more in a matter of days.
Then, in the run-up to Christmas she’d been back a dozen times at least.
And, even if public punishments were not allowed in their new agreement, their private clashes had all been more than acceptable.
No, they had been top notch.
Mentally waving Eileen goodbye for now, Angie rounded on the smaller girl, taking in her green talons and flashing emerald eyes, shrugging off the potential damage to body and self-esteem.
Recalling all their times before; equally large, shapely breasts pressing against breasts, two hot groins clamped tighter than tight.
Prehistoric antagonism seemed totally unworthy, given the circumstances.
‘Well,’ said Ruby, ‘do you?’
‘Yes,’ Angie replied, ‘as it so happens I do.’
Chapter Seven
(Friday 16th January 1998)
Angie woke up with Ruby’s tongue in her. She had had less pleasant awakenings.
And, although it was only too often articulating insults, Ruby had a simply marvellous tongue. It knew every last fold of a girl’s sex. Inside and out, it was deftness and precision personified.
At moments like that Angie was only too ready to forget old differences. Running her fingers through spiky green hair, stroking slender bare shoulders, feeling erect nipples rubbing along her thighs . . .
What was there not to like.
‘Oh yes,’ she sighed, ‘more, more, more!’
Ruby seemed to be happy to oblige. At one stage they had snuggled under the duvet but by now that was long gone, carelessly kicked away. By now all that mattered was Ruby’s never-ending attention deep inside her, forever inside her.
Perhaps deliberately, behind the scenes Ruby was always tender and loving with Angie. In the Union Bar she was Queen Bitch, ranting, raving and all but clawing. But get her alone in a bedroom and all of a sudden she was sweetness and light.
Still sighing, Angie began to move, the rhythm of her lower body matching Ruby’s attentions, allowing her total control while endorsing everything she did.
‘More, more, more,’ Angie begged. ‘This is so, so good.’
She wasn’t particularly exaggerating and could have happily let Ruby eat her all day. As it happened Ruby lasted to nearly eleven o’clock before finally stopping, citing “jaw-ache” and “repetitive strain”.
Angie proposed a shower and a trip to the Union Bar. ‘I owe you a few beers for that,’ she said. ‘And I owe you a large helping of something similar later this afternoon.’
‘Charlie’s back this afternoon.’ Ruby made a face. ‘I need to get the bedsheets in the washer and do some shopping at Tesco.’
Angie laughed. It had been unwashed bedsheets that blew her cover with Charlie that very first time. Well, unwashed bedsheets, Ruby’s unexpectedly early return and Charlie’s devil-may-care attitude.
‘Don’t tell me,’ she said, ‘your little wifey might show up at any moment. You’ve been running a risk as an added thrill.’
‘No I haven’t. She’s on the three o’clock train and she’s as regular as clockwork.’
‘Three o’clock is still four hours away. We could sneak in a few quickies.’
‘Sorry Ange, there simply isn’t time. You’ll have to repay me next time we snatch an opportunity.’
‘We’re not done, then?’
‘Not by any means.’
‘Okay, so don’t worry, I will repay you properly. What about those beers in the meantime?’
‘I’m not so sure . . .’
‘You should be.’ Angie grinned. ‘Imagine the faces on the Corner watching us at the bar, laughing together and yucking it up. They won’t know what to think.’
‘We’ve done it before.’
‘Yeah, and two minutes later you’ve been ranting at me, as per usual. Let’s go in all lovey-dovey and keep it going. Let’s be all over each other so Charlie has to drag us apart.’
Ruby liked that. Her grin matched Angie’s. ‘Let’s go for it,’ she said.
*****
Ricky collared Angie the second Ruby left the Union.
‘Ye gods, girl,’ he practically gasped, ‘give me the inside story.’
Ricky was hired help behind the bar. He was also the university’s gossip par excellence. Angie didn’t do title-tattle but knew how the grapevine worked. One word out of place with Ricky and it may as well be headlining tomorrow’s newsletter.
Or maybe even the Daily Mirror.
Still, she was infamous already, so why not?
‘Whatever do you mean?’ she asked ingeniously.
‘You and Ruby,’ he replied eagerly, clearly amazed she was obliging him. ‘I’ve seen you pairing off before, but I’ve never seen you so . . . so utterly friendly.’
‘You’ve noticed before, have you?’
‘Haven’t we all! But before you were growling at each other; just now you were practically in love.’
‘Love doesn’t come into the equation,’ said Angie, ‘but just now we have reason to be friendly.’
‘Pray do tell.’
Angie leaned across the bar and lowered her voice. ‘Did you see us pair off yesterday?’
‘Yes.’
‘What time was it?’
‘I dunno, maybe two o’clock.’
‘And what time did we arrive today?’
; ‘Before twelve, I reckon.’