by Limey Lady
‘I did well to manage that. Another day and the bread would have been stale. You were spot on when you said you had nothing in.’
‘There are lots of places to eat in Bingley.’ Heather helped herself to another sandwich. ‘I have hardly started on the pubs, but I’ve found some great takeaways. And that chip shop next door is excellent.’
‘I did wonder how you kept so trim. In fact I’m still wondering.’
‘I’ve a lucky metabolism. And I make regular trips to the gym.’
Vic raised an eyebrow. ‘You also regularly behave like the Tasmanian Devil, I suppose.’
‘As a point of order,’ said Heather, ‘I never made it across to Tassie. Closest I got was somewhere in your namesake: Geelong, at a guess.’
‘Something must have blown across on the wind, then.’
‘What, some spore doing over a hundred and fifty miles of ocean?’
‘Yes; some extremely potent spore.’
‘Hmmm, enough about me, let’s talk about you. What’s your secret, exercise or starvation?’
‘Both.’ Vic smiled as Heather leered at her. ‘I like being like this, even if I am a bit of a giraffe.’
‘Vic, I’m hardly a midget, I’m almost five ten. And I utterly adore giraffes. You won’t have to starve yourself for my sake, though. I’ll make sure you’re so exercised you’ll need an all-kebab diet.’
‘Let’s not rush.’ Vic’s smile slipped a megawatt or two. ‘I’m not ready for anything major. I still need fun and flings.’
‘No major commitments?’
‘Not just yet.’
‘That’s fine,’ Heather said sincerely. ‘I don’t do major commitments anyway. Just count me in for some of the fun.’
Vic stared at her a while before going on. ‘Karen wanted me to be her man. In realistic ways, that is.’
‘With a strap-on, you mean.’
‘It was more than that. Yes, she wanted me to fuck her that way. And I certainly didn’t mind doing it. It changed her out of bed, though. She wanted to be the little housewife in every last way. And the more I fucked her, the more demanding she became.’
‘Didn’t you talk it through with her?’
‘No. I just worked more and more and got accused of neglect. Don’t ask why; we simply weren’t able to converse.’
‘You can converse about anything and everything with me.’ Heather chuckled. ‘I’ll be up for just about everything too. Pre-planned, spontaneous, whatever you fancy. Aggressive, obliging, submissive . . . all you have to do is let me know.’
‘Submissive?’
‘Well . . . now and then. And only if you insist.’
‘Thank you. I’ll remember that.’
‘Make sure you do. I don’t offer myself to absolutely anybody.’
Vic re-raised her eyebrows but didn’t comment.
‘Honestly,’ Heather said, ‘I really will be up for anything you fancy, whenever you fancy it. And don’t worry about overtaxing me. Just lately I’ve been practically a nun.’
‘What about Graham? How’s he going to fit in?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve only slept with him once. That might be as far as it goes.’ Heather chuckled again. ‘But he did promise me a long weekend in the Dales. I’ll need to play that carefully, with him being my nearest neighbour.’
‘Go on. Keep surprising me.’
‘It would be handy having a boyfriend next door. In case my insatiable appetite for hard willies comes back, as it almost certainly will. Close but not too close.’
‘But . . .’
‘But I need another reward before I make any decisions. I always overrate men first time. The second time’s my reality check.’
‘Heather, hasn’t it ever occurred to you that women are supposed to reward men with sex? You and Graham seem to be the wrong way around.’
‘Victoria, haven’t you heard about Women’s Liberation? I’ll be the judge about the ins and outs of my rewards system . . . especially the ins.’
They giggled while Vic poured more wine.
‘One final question,’ she said. ‘What was that “airhead” business?’
‘Oh, that was nothing.’
‘No, do tell me. Someone’s been going on about the dreaded grapevine, probably Joanna. What is it that’s bothering you?’
‘It’s the labelling.’
‘Labelling?’
‘Doesn’t labelling apply to girls who shag colleagues on a higher grade? I heard they’re all airheads or bimbos. Not that I’m letting it put me off.’
Vic nodded and smiled. ‘I think labelling only applies when hard willies are involved.’
‘Does it? In that case forget I said anything.’
‘Okay then, if you insist.’
‘I do insist. Come back to bed. Let’s go stimulate our imaginations in the dark.’
‘Eat your sandwiches first. You’ll need to build up your energy.’
‘Will I now?’
‘Yes indeed.’
‘Oh Victoria, promises, promises!’
*****
There were only two sandwiches left. While Heather hungrily scoffed them down Vic drifted away into the lounge. Heather swigged her wine in a most unladylike manner and then followed, finding her new lover standing at the enormous, south-facing window, seemingly at ease with her nakedness.
Smiling to herself, Heather diverted to the settee and donned a pair of heels she’d casually discarded there days earlier.
‘What are you up to?’ Vic was watching her reflection in the window.
‘I’m getting equality in the height stakes.’
‘If it’s equality you want, aren’t you a bit overdressed?’
Heather got to her feet and, holding Vic’s attention in the glass, flamboyantly pulled off the very faded red rugger shirt before swirling it over her head.
‘Nice,’ Vic said without turning round, ‘amazingly good tits.’
‘These are boobs, Victoria, or bazoomas. Not tits.’
‘Still amazingly good, whatever you call them.’
Heather dumped the red shirt on the settee and went behind the other girl, wrapping her arms around her. Even accounting for the heels Vic was taller, but that was okay; it brought the back of her neck quite perfectly into range. Vic liked having the back of her neck nibbled and chewed.
Nice, nice, nice, Heather thought, running her tongue tip across smooth, olive skin, making thousands of tiny hairs spring upright, like a line of toppled dominos somehow standing back up.
Vic arched sensually, moaning as her ripe bazoomas were mercilessly squeezed.
‘You’re the sexiest,’ Heather whispered. ‘I haven’t met anyone as sexy before; never, ever.’
She felt the other girl’s stomach, admiring bands of muscle, recalling images. When Vic tensed there she had a six-pack that almost matched her own. The sight of their taut bodies straining together had been awesome. Shaved, tanned and toned, not an ounce of flab between them.
‘Ye gods,’ Vic murmured. ‘The things you do to me.’
‘Haven’t even started yet,’
‘Trust me, Heather, you have!’
‘Is it back to bed, then?’
‘No, here . . . I want you to fuck me here. Here and now, for anyone to see.’
‘My, my Victoria!’ said Heather, in-between renewed nibbles. ‘You really do use that rude word a lot. I wouldn’t have expected St Helena’s girls to know such language.’
‘It’s you Manor girls. Talking all the time we’re doing it . . . corrupting us.’
‘I don’t ever swear.’ Then, correcting herself: ‘Not much, anyway.’
‘You don’t have to. You can make the most ordinary words sound filthy.’
‘Do you like me sounding filthy?’
'Yes.’
‘How about the filthy things I do? Do you like them as well?’
‘Ye gods, yes I do. That’s why I’m shaking so badly.’
‘Is it also why your nipples could
torpedo battleships?’
‘Oh ye gods, yes; yes it is!’
‘Go on then, tell me what happens next.’
‘I want you to fuck me.’
‘Like a man? I’ve something in my room, if that’s what you want.’
‘No, I don’t want it like that; not yet. I want you to sit me on the window ledge, stick your tongue inside and fuck me!’
Vic’s body wasn’t just shaking now; it was juddering against Heather, who was suddenly in need of a similar service herself.
Later, she thought. Then, aloud, ‘Who do you want to be watching? Just tell me and I’ll do it. It doesn’t matter who you say, I’ll do it anyway. Just you name them. They can watch me fucking you hard. And I’ll do it again and again. Until you cum in my face and . . .’
Heather slid her hand downwards as she spoke. When she got as far as “cum in my face” she gently traced a line along her lover’s moist and very swollen labia.
‘Oh!’ cried Vic, and climaxed hard and fluidly.
Without hesitating Heather pressed into an already rapidly contracting fanny, easing inside, feeling for Vic’s most special place, finding it almost at once.
Vic threw back her head and screamed, her hips moving, thrusting powerfully against Heather’s very rigidly curled fingers.
‘God,’ she yelled. ‘Oh! Oh! OH!!’
Her second cum was as good as instantaneous and at least ten times as spectacular as anything that Heather had ever witnessed. She couldn’t help but be impressed.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Vic gasped. ‘That was the world’s worst self-control.’
‘You must have been saving it up. We’d no chance of making it as far as the window ledge.’
‘I really am sorry.’
‘Don’t be. It was an honour to be involved.’
Heather kicked off her heels and retrieved the rugger shirt, kneeling before Vic and using it to dry her, dabbing with the utmost tenderness and care.
‘I don’t do that often,’ Vic said apologetically. ‘I have to be very, very turned-on to cum like that.’ Then, noticeably blushing: ‘That’s why I called a time-out for snacks. I didn’t really want you to stop fucking me, I just knew what was likely to happen.’
‘And you didn’t want it to happen?’
‘Of course I did! It’s embarrassing to make such a mess, though.’
‘It’s not a mess; it was a wonder to behold.’ Heather grinned. ‘By the way, has anyone ever said you have the most beautiful fanny?’
Vic snorted. ‘So says she with the most beautiful everything.’
‘No really, I’m not joking. If I ever have to design the ideal fanny, I’ll make it exactly like yours.’
‘I hope you design better floodgates.’
‘That’s unlikely. I’ll probably remove floodgates altogether.’
Vic laughed. ‘Why am I not surprised?’
The shirt did its job and was dropped over a rather large wet patch on the parquet floor. ‘I’ll sort that later,’ Heather said. ‘In the meantime, no-one’s any the wiser.’
‘Apart from anyone watching,’ said Vic.
Standing side by side, hand in hand, they looked out of the window, over a sea of roofs and chimney pots, towards the two banks in the valley bottom. Although night had fallen long ago visibility was still fine. Hundreds and hundreds of dingy orange streetlights kept the darkness at bay.
‘Can’t see any peeping toms,’ Heather said, ‘unless Dick Van Dyke has bobbed out for a quick chim, chimney.’
‘Or unless Tibbles really is out on the tiles.’ Vic laughed again. ‘Let’s hope he’s not fatally attracted. You might come home to find someone’s pet mouse boiling away.’
Heather pointed to WYB, one of the few buildings still burning any lights at all. ‘Top floor,’ she said, ‘six windows in. Isn’t that someone looking this way?’
‘It looks like a man.’ Vic adjusted her glasses.
‘Don’t say it’s Dom.’ Heather was only half-joking. ‘IT nerds do late hours, don’t they?’
‘Dom starts early and finishes at seven. He might have caught Act One in The Ferrands, but Act Five was far too late for him.’
‘Was that Act Five? I thought it was Act Six. Or maybe it was Act Sixteen.’
‘You might be right. Anyway, that’s not Dom; it’s just one of the security officers. I can make out the uniform but not his face, which is just perfect. He’ll only be able to see us as two tiny, possibly naked women.’
‘Perhaps he’ll bring binoculars next time.’
‘Next time we’ll be more discreet . . . wear ball masks or something. Come on, let’s give him a wave.’
They waved and, after a moment’s hesitation, the man waved back before abruptly disappearing.
‘Gone for a quick wank,’ Vic said, before clapping a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh ye gods, you really have corrupted me!’
‘The corruption could get a whole lot worse. Want to find out how?’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’
###
Author’s Note: Thank you for reading this story. “Bedding The Boss” is part extract, part spin-off from my full-length novel, “Unconsecrated Ground”, which is already available via Smashwords and associates.
If you have read any of my previous offerings you might well believe that I specialize in sex, mostly of the lesbian variety, sometimes straight. I cannot deny that is true but “Unconsecrated Ground” was written as action/adventure with (I hope) a slight sense of humour. But the lesbian/straight sex element is in there as well . . . along with a serial killer, old mill towns and countryside made famous by the Bronte sisters.
For a taste of my action/adventure style, please refer to “Desperate Dealings” (available free of charge on Smashwords). And if that grabs you, please feel free to read the novel.
Go on; you know you want to.
Best wishes and happy reading
LL
Other books by LimeyLady
Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 01
Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 02
Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 03
Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 04
Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 05
Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 06
Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 07
New Beginnings
New Beginnings Advance
New Beginnings Falter
New Beginnings Revive
New Beginnings Conclude
Dangerous Dealings
No Holds Barred in London