by Nicole Dere
The girls moved off, though she wasn’t aware of it. Her first realisation was of Jackie Barlow crouched, gathering her up and holding her, her face within inches of Jill’s tearstained features. ‘I did tell you that skirt might be a bit of a problem, didn’t I? Come on, let’s get you home and cleaned up.’
In the car Jill slumped beside her, weeping softly, still shaking, taking no note of where they were going. Eventually the car stopped and she glanced up through her smeared eyes at a respectable Victorian terrace, the houses reaching up three storeys, the front doors at the tops of railinged stone steps. A row of bell pushes outside each one indicated that they were all converted to flats.
‘My place,’ Jackie explained. ‘Can’t take you back to the station like this, eh? Let’s go in and get you cleaned up first. Here, I’ve got your shoes and bag. Out you get.’
Five minutes later Jill was standing in a large, comfortably appointed bathroom, sniffling as she undressed at Jackie’s bidding. She was far too demoralised to object at Jackie standing there while she slipped off her jacket, skirt and blouse.
‘Come on, get those tights off as well,’ Jackie instructed. ‘Oh, here, stand still. Let me do it. Hold on to me.’ Quickly she plucked at the waistband and rolled the tights down off Jill’s slim hips and down her legs. Obediently Jill lifted first one foot and then the other, for Jackie to tug them off.
‘Wow! I must say I like your taste in undies, sweety. Come on, off with these pretty knicks too.’
She was wearing a pair of feminine boxer shorts, in a sandy colour, but whose fabric had an iridescent quality which caught the light. There was a delicate edging about the waist, which stretched across her flat tummy, well below the cute little eye of her navel. The edging was of tiny waves, and was repeated on the seams of the high legs. Jackie’s fingers peeled the garment down, to reveal the neat little dark brown patch of pubic curls. Jill was weeping again, but softly, desolate with the sense of this shameful revelation. She moved her feet automatically to allow Jackie to remove the delicate scrap altogether.
The bra was unwired, of a pale mesh through which Jill’s nipples and areolae showed. She stood still and passive while Jackie unclipped the fastener and eased it from her breasts, thus completing her nakedness. Jackie rubbed her fingers and thumbs over the cups, enjoying the sensation of seeing her digits through its gauziness.
A huge remnant of a sob came out as a gasping sigh, and made Jill’s breasts jiggle right under Jackie’s nose. She spun the slim figure round and slapped playfully at Jill’s bottom. ‘Let’s get you in the bath.’ She held up the dainty underwear and the tights. There’s nothing to them, is there?’ She laughed, turning the taps full on.
Jill cleared her throat and managed a husky whisper. ‘What about the office? The station? Won’t they - ?’
‘Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, sweety,’ Jackie told her. ‘I’m in charge, and I think you’ve had more than enough excitement for your first day, don’t you? Although it may not all be over yet. What do you reckon?’ She moved with deliberate slowness and gentleness as she took the naked girl in her arms and let her face approach the woebegone countenance, which changed to an expression of puzzlement, surprise, and then... their lips met and Jackie kissed her, softly and lingeringly. She felt Jill’s frame quiver and her muscles flex with shock, but then they relaxed and the girl did not pull away, either from the touch of her seeking lips or the tight embrace.
Chapter Two
Jill felt Jackie’s firm grip on her shoulders once more as she was spun round, given another stinging, playful slap on her bottom, and a little shove towards the bathtub. ‘Now hop in and get yourself cleaned up. Unless you want me to do it for you,’ Jackie laughed and, scooping up the clothing, made her exit. ‘And leave the door ajar. “Never lock a bathroom door”, my old ma used to say. Lie back and relax. I’ll bring you in a medicinal brandy in a while.’
Jill’s head was in a whirl as she lowered herself gingerly into the fragrant embrace of the warm water. She was shivering slightly still, from shock, but also... she wasn’t sure just what her feelings were on this monumentally surreal day. She felt a brief clutch of fear again, recalling the terrifying interval when she hung upside down two hundred feet in the air, literally in the hands of those terrible harpies. She leaned back, the bubbles of foam rising about her shoulders, and lifted her legs, one after the other, to inspect them. There were the dark smudges, the fingerprints of their thankfully tight grip on her ankles, and her calves, the backs of her knees. The tears pricked, and then rolled slowly from her blurred eyes. How could she ever recover from such a disaster, on her very first assignment? But then she felt a quiver of excitement pass through her, stirring her limbs under the surface of the water, as her thoughts were powerfully diverted in another direction altogether. That kiss...
Her attraction towards members of her own sex was one which Jill had learned to live with, had largely sublimated throughout her adolescence, telling herself that there was nothing wrong. She could even apply the word ‘natural’ to it - apart from those shameful solitary fantasies, the desires which forced her to resort to those actions behind the locked doors of bedroom or bathroom, which caused her so much subsequent distress, yet brought, too, such hectic relief.
It wasn’t until she got to college that those secret yearnings ever found expression outside the lonely dreams and self-gratification. Sharon was both a revelation and an utter delight, a mirror image in so many ways: in looks - they relished the number of times people enquired if they were sisters - and in temperament. Their friendship swiftly blossomed into something much more - an exclusive bond that held them in its exquisite grip. At first the physical side went no further than handholding and ‘big hugs’, which they exchanged at every greeting and parting. ‘Bloody lipstick lezzies, you two!’ one of the hefty rowing and rugby females declared, with a hearty humour tinged with envy.
They laughed, and guyed it up a little after that, until one afternoon in Jill’s room, trying on some new clothes, Sharon said out of the blue, ‘Do you mind if I kiss you? Properly, I mean?’
They both giggled, nerves jangling as they approached, and self-consciously embraced, brought their seeking mouths together. An endless minute later they fell back onto Jill’s narrow bed, panting in bras and panties, breathless and clawing, in agonies of embarrassment and heavens of delight, tore off each other’s scraps of clothing and wrestled, rolled, and clamped their naked bodies together with moans of ecstatic frustration. ‘What do we do?’ they gasped, and wept for joy. They both knew the answer, and did it, taking turns, their limbs entangled, heated bodies twisting as first one and then the other was aggressor and victim.
They were lovers for over a year. Jill was deeply hurt when Sharon tearfully announced one day that she could carry on no longer. ‘There’s someone else.’ Jill was even more deeply injured to learn that the ‘someone’ was a young man. The break-up drove Jill back inside a carefully constructed shell, and probably helped her to achieve a Top Second degree. Maybe it even influenced her unexpected decision to opt for a career in the police force, as an unconscious reaction against the rarefied, precious world of femininity she had shared with Sharon.
But this kiss! This was different - a whole new ballgame and kettle of fish swimming around inside her tummy. She lay back in the scented water, aware of every tingling centimetre of her reclining body, in this strange bathroom, in this strange flat, of a stranger, who was as different as chalk could be to Sharon’s sweet cheese. For a start she was older - she must be at least in her mid to late thirties, Jill calculated. It couldn’t be easy for a woman to achieve the rank of Inspector, especially in CID. In Benbrough there were only two ahead of her. Bridget O’Keefe’s appointment as Assistant Chief Constable had caused more than a minor ripple through the ranks of the constabulary, and elsewhere. DCS Sharp was the only other female in the department, t
wo ranks ahead of Barlow. DI Barlow must be over ten years her senior, Jill guessed. And a whole lifetime ahead, as far as experience went.
She had stripped her! And Jill had just stood there, like a kid, while she did it... and then the kiss. She felt her arms around her, strong, drawing her in until she felt the brush of the clothing against her own nude body, those lips settling over hers, claiming her, that brief, eloquent flicker of tongue, only a micro-second but so telling, so plainly sexual.
She sat upright suddenly, with a splash, shocked to find her fingers lightly stroking the puckered folds of her vulva, caressing the soft pubis. She pulled her hands away quickly, just as Jackie appeared in the doorway. She was carrying two glasses, one of which she handed to the slim figure, before perching on the rim of the tub. ‘Feeling better now, sweety? You’re certainly looking good. You’ve got a bit of colour back in your cheeks.’
Jill instinctively draped her left arm over her soapy breasts as she took the drink and sipped obediently. ‘I haven’t made a very good start, have I?’ The deep brown eyes filled with tears again as she gazed woefully up at Jackie. ‘Why did you... let me... send me over to them, Ma’am?’ The eyes were big with gentle reproach now.
‘Like I told you, you’ve got a lot to learn.’
Jill felt her throat closing, and the tears were close again. ‘Please, Ma’am,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t tell anybody - please!’ She shivered. ‘I duh... don’t know if I can hack it. Being in the force. I - ’
‘Listen, darling. Baptism of fire. You can’t beat it.’ She eased her behind off the rim and swivelled round to kneel on the floor, facing Jill. She took the glass from the delicate fingers and put it with hers at the foot of the bath. She held the sad face in both hands, turned it towards her as she brought her own close to the solemn girl’s. ‘I know you’re a very bright kid, and you’ll probably leave us all way behind one of these fine days, but at the moment you’re a rookie, whatever they may have told you. Lowest of the low, sweety, got it? It’s what we call the chain of command. And at the moment you’re on the end of my chain. You stick to me. Watch and wait, and learn, above all. When I say jump you say “how high?” Got it? You do that and I’ll see you make the grade. Right?’
Jill nodded against the clamping grip of those strong fingers holding her. Jackie leaned even closer, and placed a light kiss on the damp forehead. Her lips moved against the skin. Jill felt the warm breath flowing over her. ‘There’s one other thing we’ve got to settle here and now, baby. Something you should know about me.’
The hands were withdrawn. The water was cooling, and Jill shivered. The hands pressed on her wet shoulders, pushing her down until her back made contact once more with the curve of the tub, and she was lying almost supine. Jackie’s left hand remained resting on Jill’s shoulder, cupping the delicate spot at the base of the slim neck, over the hollow formed by the prominent thinness of the bone. Her right slid with a soft splash beneath the surface, where the bubbles of foam had thinned out, largely dissolved, so that the pale curve of the belly showed, and the dark, mossy patch of pubic hair, through which Jackie’s fingers combed and explored like nibbling fish until they moved caressingly over the cushion of the mons, delved beneath, to the folds of the labia, the fissure of the sex, and nuzzled at its soft tissue. Jill gave a soft gasp and her frame stiffened, her belly rose until it broke surface, and the small dish of her navel gleamed with its miniature pool of trapped water. Her thighs tightened, their muscles standing out against the slenderness, and she felt Jackie’s wrist and forearm trapped in their hold. Then the spasm passed, the belly sank and the thighs fell slackly apart. Now it was the buttocks which clenched on the hard acrylic base at the invidiously gentle, remorseless touch of those fingers. They prised through the yielding cleft and Jill’s head jerked back, her hair scraped against the slope of the tub and her lips opened as though in synchronisation with those other hidden lips being so rousingly invaded by the woman who held her.
Jackie’s mouth rested against hers. ‘You like that, baby, don’t you? I guessed as soon as I laid eyes on you, sweety. I’m not wrong, am I? Tell me I’m not.’
Jill’s head moved. Whether she knew it or not, it gave a little shake. Jackie’s lips covered hers, this time claiming ownership with a glorious unbridling of her passion, and her tongue dived deep into the sweet cavern surrendered to her. Below, her fingers had unerringly penetrated through the upper folds of the cleft, to the sensitised area about the throbbing clitoris, which emerged in its tiny budding excitement, from which the sensations spread, seducing, conquering every fibre and nerve-end of Jill’s quivering body. The knees came up, shining with the water on them, the belly lifted, entirely in response to the all-powerful caresses which had taken over.
She was whimpering with desire, undulating with need, when Jackie withdrew her hand from between the spread thighs. ‘You’ll catch your death of cold. Come on, out you get.’
Jill was shivering more violently now, and weeping helplessly. Jackie had to help her from the bath. She enveloped her in a huge white towel, then bent and picked her up, manoeuvring her in her arms through the doorway and across the corridor the few steps to the bedroom. She sat on the double bed, holding Jill on her knee, and their lips remained together through the whole of the brief time Jackie dried her, and then pushed the damp form back on the bed, with the wet towel still beneath her. ‘You want me to finish you, babe?’ Jackie whispered hoarsely.
Jill was sobbing. Her knees drew up, close together in an instinctive gesture of modesty to hide her loins, and then fell apart. Her legs straightened in a long Y of need and submission. ‘Y-yes, please. I’ve never... never before been like this,’ she lied, scarcely aware of her deception, for this, under the capable domination of the older woman, did indeed feel different.
Jackie laughed deeply, and there was an underlying cruel satisfaction and an awareness of that domination, which comprised the chief element of the throbbing thrill that she relished through her own still fully clothed body.
‘Not too quick though, baby, eh?’ Jackie purred. ‘Let’s take our time.’ She dipped her head, let the tip of her tongue flicker over the small erect left nipple of the figure spread invitingly under her. Because of the way Jill was lying her breasts were stretched, almost flattened. The sweetly tormenting tongue alighted on the other teat now, teased it too, before the lips closed about it and the puckered circle of darkening pink around it, then suckled fiercely. The toned form lifted and Jill let out a wavering cry. Jackie felt the fragility of the body, the outline of the delicate ribcage, then she moved, her mouth possessing the other nipple again before her tongue trailed its wet course down, over the quivering midriff, to lap at the shallow little eye of the belly button, and then lower still, over the soft curls of pubis, down at last to the wet, clamorous groove at the centre of the helpless figure’s hunger.
Jill’s tight buttocks lifted clear of the towel, but this time her thighs were wide apart, begging, proffering herself to her conqueror. The head sank, the hot face and pressing nose rooted, burrowed, the tongue lapped along the soaking fissure, the teeth nipped, and the mouth sought the centre of Jill’s consuming need.
Finally Jackie showed some mercy, or was herself lost to her own pulsing need. Jill’s back arched, thrusting Jackie’s head violently upward with the force of her heaving tummy, then collapsed, and her pink heels drummed on the counterpane while she threshed and twisted, rolling her head from side to side, her face contorted with the power of the climax tearing through her, and continuing until the ripples spread through to her clawed fingers and curling toes, and she sank, utterly spent and exhausted, into the drifting dreamtime of complete consummation.
Jill woke with a pounding heart, her body convulsed with terror at the reliving of those dreadful seconds when she was hung between sky and earth, in the merciless grip of those young harpies. She was lost as she came to full awareness, to find h
erself lying naked on top of Jackie’s bed, in a room she did not recognise. Then memory returned with a rush, along with the consciousness of her tender vagina, and the most recent imprints of vigorous loving on the whiteness of her breasts and her upper thighs. Although it was summer the window to her left, with its curtains undrawn, showed squares of deep dusk, a faint reflection of the lamp-lit room already framed in the dark panes.
The light came from a small lamp at the side of the bed, its flowered shade ensuring a rosy depth to the illumination. It fell across Jill’s body, highlighting her pale form and prominent jut of hipbone, causing a deep shadow to fall over her lower belly and loins as she lay half turned from the source of light.
She sat up as Jackie Barlow came in. Her superior was wearing a short black towelling robe, which covered her only to mid-thigh. Jill noted the sturdy shapeliness of the legs, and their considerable tan. ‘Ah, the sleeping beauty wakes at last. How are you feeling? Pretty relaxed now, yeah?’
Jill was afire with blushes, sitting with shoulders hunched, her arms crossed over her breasts, her legs crossed, the knees slightly raised. She wished she was under the covers, but lacked the courage to draw them over her now. ‘Yes, thank you, Ma’am,’ she muttered.
‘I’ve done us a bit of supper. Nothing special. Some cold bits and salad. I’m no shakes as a chef. Usually I either eat out or bring back takeaways. Come on. Get that lazy little arse of yours out of my pit right now.’
Jill stood, feeling more embarrassingly exposed than ever. Her hands moved from breasts to loins indecisively.
‘For fuck’s sake, sweety. Don’t stand there like Venus surprised at her bath or whatever. Bit late for that, isn’t it?’