Holly gets a ride (Holly Craig Series)

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Holly gets a ride (Holly Craig Series) Page 4

by Jodie Halliday


  “Holly?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Holly, it’s Sam. Marko said that you were looking for a car and suggested I might be of help so that you pick something in good shape,” said Sam. Her hearth leapt in her chest and she sat upright, wondering for a second if she should cover herself. Sam, the most gorgeous guy on campus, was phoning her, offering help. She recalled his chocolate-brown skin, part African-American, part-Italian, and part-god. She flushed remembering that she wanted to lick his face, to feel the smoothness on that first occasion they had met, four years ago but he was way out of her league. He had girls fawning over him constantly and was very careful who he was seen with, but polite, tactful and considerate always to anyone he spoke to. But those lips of his, they shone, inviting, with pearl white teeth and a long pink tongue beyond.

  “Oh wow!’ she said, breathlessly. “Yeah, that was nice of him, I’m certainly on the look-out for something,” she said, cursing the innuendo.

  “My Dad’s in the business. He can recommend good dealers and have a mechanic take a quick look once you’ve found something.”

  “Really? Oh, that would be great!”

  “Look, I have some time on Wednesday afternoon, wanna take a drive around then?”

  “Sam, yeah, thanks! Can I meet you outside the Students Union?”

  “Sure, shall we say two o’clock?”

  “Great, and thanks, that’s so nice of you!” she said, calming a little but thrilled at the idea of being in his car and being seen with him even for a few hours.

  “See you at two then. Bye for now!” He rang off before she could reply but she just smiled and gently set the phone down on her desk. She cupped her pussy and brought her legs together, squealing with pleasure at the feeling and the phone call. Her middle finger slipped between her outer lips and she leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. Tonight she would scratch that itch and roll out Mike the unforgiving bartender once again. She pulled on a stylish pale pink floral-patterned blouse and her only other skirt which was cream with a black belt and left the house just after six-thirty.

  It was seven when she reached the lines of dormitories, each flanked by rose bushes alternating with standard box hedges to provide some natural relief from the stark brickwork. The main administration building was at the end of the dormitories and on the second floor she entered the room where they held Foundation meetings to discuss financial assistance to local worthy causes. Holly had been Treasurer in her third year and this year was Event Director, a position which involved coordinating sponsors, funds and people in aid of causes in the city. There were about ten extra people there this evening as they were shadowing their counterparts, ready to take over from those students who were leaving the university in less than a week’s time. The first hour was a review of the year’s achievements as well as commitments for the following year, along with assignments for the incoming students to the positions to which they had been elected. The second and third hour were devoted to planning, tactics, advertising and general groundwork that would be required to make the events a success.

  With all business finished just after ten, the meeting broke up and a celebratory party was held downstairs in the main Administration lounge where wine, cheese and biscuits were served along with soft drinks and coffee. It wasn’t filling but Holly had grabbed another ham sandwich before she left and didn’t really need much to eat. She was introduced to the majority of the new committee members and was delighted to feel the enthusiasm and energy that they would bring to the Foundation. She left as the party was winding down at about eleven and made her was out of the building, across the quadrangle and along the path between the main dormitories that eventually led to Foley Road. Raucous laughter filled the air as she strode along the flagstone path and her steps echoed with reassurance and authority as she walked quickly and confidently in the gloom.

  The buildings either side were lit but the tree-lined path was quite dark although she had no sense of foreboding as she picked out the shape of the campus gate about three hundred yards away. She watched a couple about fifty yards in front of her, walking in the same direction as she was. She saw them pause briefly then carry out at a faster walking pace, clearly arguing. Between the trees was the occasional bench seat and litter bin and it was by one of the litter bins, about half-way along the path, that she came across an ivory coloured shoe with a two or three inch heel. It was a woman’s shoe, in perfect condition but most certainly out of place on the grass by the bench. She left it where it was but looked around slowly, wondering where the owner might be since they would surely know they were minus one shoe. Both behind her and in front, the path was empty now and yet she felt that someone was close by. She walked on slowly, primed for the discovery of the other shoe, but it was a groan that caught her attention and sent her heart racing. It came from her left, fifty feet or thereabouts she estimated. Female. Unwell. Another groan, no louder than the first but as she drew closer the sound of being unwell turned to one of pain.

  As she approached the source she spotted the other shoe, attached to a girl’s stockinged foot, poking out between the rose bush and the hedge, her limbs jammed in at a ghastly angle that suggested she had been thrown in and had not simply tripped or fallen. Holly crouched down and confirmed that it was indeed the other shoe.

  “Hey” she said softly. She could smell vomit and reached out for the girl’s hand between the rose brambles. It was scratched and bleeding in places, not life-threatening but it was going to sting like mad later. “Hey, can you get up?” A noise emanated from deep in the bushes and the girl vomited noisily. Holly looked around at the deserted campus and briefly wondered if the laughter she had heard earlier was something to do with this girl. She seemed to be a similar build as herself, maybe a little younger and her concern grew as she noticed that the girl was trembling, shaking as she lay entangled in the undergrowth. “You need to get out of there sweetie, come on, I can help,” said Holly, taking her hand. It was covered in vomit and for an instant Holly wondered if she should get involved. The thought passed immediately as she realised that it could happen to anyone, herself included, in the four years at university and for a myriad of reasons. She stepped deeper into the brambles and cleared some away with her feet, pricking herself on the sharp thorns as she guided the girl’s head slowly out of the tangled brambles. After almost a minute of effort she finally managed to get her hands under her armpits and pulled her, despite her shrieks, out onto the grass. She jogged back to the bench, grabbed the other shoe and returned to the girl, noting that she clutched her small black handbag to her chest even though it too was covered in whatever she had for dinner. There was blood all over her hands, legs and the back of her neck, and Holly noticed that she too had scratches from the thorns and smears from the girl’s injuries.

  “Where do you live sweetie?” asked Holly, crouching in front of her, now worried as the girl hadn’t said anything and didn’t really seem to be able to move. After a moment’s silence Holly peeled the bag from her grip and felt around inside. A small credit-card holder held her driving license, two credit cards and a student ID card. “Hey, Jane, I’m going to get you home, OK?” said Holly, rewarded with the slightest of nods. The ID card said Stanley Hall which was right in front of them. Holly slipped the ID card into her back pocket and locked the bag. “We’re going to walk over there to your door, OK?” she said, taking her hand. It took almost a minute though before Jane could stand long enough for Holly to even support her, and another three attempts of getting up, falling down and getting up again over the twenty yards to get her to limp to the door. She pushed the girl up against the stone wall, slipped the card from her pocket and buzzed them through while noting her last name of ‘Tanner’. Jane spun round once inside, teetering on one foot as Holly tried valiantly to support her while reading the names and room assignments on the board. “Three A, OK, here we go” said Holly, breathless, stinking of vomit and her clothes stained similarly to the girl sh
e held in her arms.

  She pressed the lift button and the doors opened immediately. Once inside she braced Jane like a prisoner with her arm across her chest as she pressed the button marked ‘3’ using the heel of the lost shoe. The lift jerked upwards and Jane vomited over them both but mainly between the buttons of Holly’s blouse so that it oozed down inside and over her bra. Holly was past caring and simply held her in place until the door opened again. She looked at the arrows on the wall designating rooms and turned right, found the room and again swiped the card key. It clicked open and they tumbled inside the darkened room.

  Holly slowly lowered the girl to the floor, supporting her head for the last few inches, then stood, returned to the door and kicked it closed. She fumbled for the light switch and flicked it on then turned back to the girl.

  “Jesus!” she hissed as she looked down at her. Apart from the vomit that covered much of the front of the girl there was mud and dirt in her hair, on her legs and feet, plus what looked like blood on her thighs. Her stockings and blouse were shredded in places and she was shaking once again just as she had in the bushes. “Jane, you’re safe now, it’s OK sweetie. Can you tell me what happened?” There was only a shake of her head and Holly stood, looking for towels, cloths, maybe a bucket for some warm water. As she gazed around though what struck her most was the affluence of the room. Designer sheets, bedding, beautiful ornaments, lights, as though she had used a professional decorator before moving in. She opened the only other door in the room and discovered the bathroom. The light was already on for some unknown reason and she saw a line of cosmetics that would look great in a magazine. The bathroom had an actual bath with shower attachment plus a toilet. She returned to the main bedroom and lounge area and knelt down at Jane’s side, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “Jane, have you been just drinking or have you taken drugs?” asked Holly, watching her eyes flutter.

  The girl shuddered and shook her head. “Drink. So much.”

  “Good answer,” thought Holly. If it had been anything else she would have got very little sympathy.

  “OK, bathroom, come on!” said Holly with a stern voice, pulling her by the arm and quite content to drag her rather than get her to walk. Jane crawled with assistance and Holly positioned her head over the toilet. “Get rid of it girl, heave it up!” she said, pulling her hair out of the way. She looked at her own clothes and decided that hers were filthy, but thankfully not ripped like Jane’s. She found the zip on Jane’s skirt and tugged it, then slipped the skirt down to her knees. She would pull it off when the girl stood or rolled over. She dropped her own skirt to the floor and peeled down her bra to her waist, gagging at the smell and sight of thick lumps of dinner that had found their way over her bra and breasts. Back in the bedroom she grabbed a roll of paper towels from the little kitchen area and wiped herself down, then undid her bra and bundled all her clothes into the sink. She added hot water and some dishwasher liquid and moved the clothes around until they seemed a little cleaner. She drained the water and repeated the wash, all the while pleased, in a perverse way, with the sound of Jane heaving down the toilet. After rinsing everything out she rung the clothes out and switched on the oven to two hundred degrees. She wasn’t quite sure what she was going to do but heat would help as long as she didn’t cook her clothes.

  She heard Jane tumble off the toilet and hurried in but the girl has simply slumped to the floor without hurting herself. “Better?” she asked.

  “Fuck!” was the mumbled reply.

  “OK, you need to sit on the toilet, OK?” she said, pointing. “Jane, you understand, you need to sit up here!” she said, loudly. Holly grabbed her arm and the girl struggled to her knees then twisted until she flopped onto the toilet and doubled up, resting her arms on her knees with her head wobbling in dreamy circles. Holly reached for the girl’s panties and tugged but they were locked in place by her position on the toilet and weight. Jane was groaning, clutching her stomach and Holly was fairly sure what was coming next. Heaving Jane back up as far as she could she braced her in that position with her shoulder and pushed her panties down at the back. As she let her slump again she slid her hand between her legs, grabbed the back of her panties and pulled as hard as possible. They got to the girl’s knees just as her bowels emptied and Holly fell backwards, tugging them down over her ankles. They were stained, yellow and brown but before Holly turned away from the sight she noticed the Dior label and was more confused than ever as to how a girl with such affluence and upbringing could allow herself to get into such a state.

  Holly leaned to the side of the toilet and pressed the flush lever, just in time to drown out the whoosh of another stream of shit as it hit the water. She slumped against the wall and sat facing Jane, watching her as she trembled and grabbed her stomach. Jane’s hair fell matted across her face and she knew the girl was sobbing as she emptied herself, no doubt only vaguely aware of where she was. A delicate pinging noise came from the other room and went over to the little oven. She opened the door and wondered what to do next. The blouse was the most delicate so she grabbed the skirt, arranged it out as flat as possible and laid it on the wire rack inside the oven. She gasped as she thought about her phone and where the hell it was, then saw her little handbag and breathed out, relieved beyond measure that she hadn’t lost that somewhere outside. She unlocked the phone and set the timer for five minutes then went back into the bathroom. Jane was quiet, sitting there in her filth, moaning quietly. Holly turned the taps on for the bath and filled it with warm water.

  “Come on, time to get clean!” she said. She reached out and guided Jane up into a sitting position then flicked the buttons of her blouse to reveal her bra and the vomit that had landed down there. She looked up at her and saw nothing but a miserable, pale face, dirty skin, mascara down her cheeks and some very small lacerations to her cheeks. She slipped her blouse off her shoulders, undid the buttons at the cuffs then dropped it on the floor. Bracing her again against the back of the toilet she reached round and undid her bra, then pulled it off her. Her breasts bounced once then hung there, immobile, firm. “Jane, do you think you’ve finished pooping?” asked Holly, amazing herself with the question. She had never stripped anyone in her life except Rob and here she was with an almost naked girl who she was about to scrub clean. But despite the girl’s filth and her drunken state she felt she knew instinctively what needed to be done. “Lean up Jane!” she commanded and the girl slowly struggled to sit almost upright. Holly used her hands to scrape the vomit off her breasts and stomach, shaking the mess between the girl’s legs and into the toilet. She saw again the blood on her thighs and carefully parted them while commenting about what she could see. As she moved back and allowed the light to get to her thighs she saw her pussy and felt a surge flash through her and up into her head, some form of dizziness temporarily clouding her vision. She breathed out hard, gasping slightly as she tried to tear her eyes away from the girl’s perfectly bald pussy.

  “Sorry,” mumbled Jane, shaking her head. “So fucked up.”

  “I know, I know you are sweetie. Let’s get you into the bath as long as you’ve finished pooping, OK, get you all clean and into bed.”

  “Yeah, good.”

  Holly grabbed a few sheets of toilet paper and handed them to Jane. “Can you wipe your bum?” Jane did as she was told and gagged as she dropped the paper down into the toilet but to her credit she held everything in and Holly flushed once again. She helped Jane to get one foot into the warm water then supported her as she managed to get all the way in and slowly sink up to her chest. “Hold onto the handles OK, don’t want you sinking!” advised Holly as she pushed water from around the girl’s hips up over her breasts. They were slightly larger than her own but similar in shape, firm, a known feeling to her should she have to clean them. “Can you raise your bum and then I’ll get that garter belt off?” asked Holly. She reached down into the water and tugged it down her body, over her ankles and dropped it onto the floor. The Dior label la
nded face up.

  It was then that Jane seemed to recognize something of her surroundings and looked up at Holly as she knelt topless beside the bath. “Your clothes?”

  “They had sick on them, I washed them and they’re drying,” said Holly as a gentle pining sound came from the kitchen. “Oh shit, wait here!” said Holly dashing out of the cramped bathroom. She opened the oven but was delighted to find a bone dry skirt. She smiled at her creativity and thought about the next load. She glanced back into the bathroom and saw that Jane was still above water and holding the handrails. With her heart beating furiously she slipped her clean panties off and put them into the sink, washed them, rung them out then added them to her bra in the oven. Her phone timer showed twelve minutes and she set the timer alarm for the same value before returning to Jane, naked.

  Jane looked up slowly, her eyes heavy, uncomprehending. “Me?”

  “You what?” said Holly kneeling again.

  “Me, sick on you?”

  “Yeah, don’t worry. You’re safe and you’ll be in bed once you’re clean.”

  Holly grabbed a very ornate flannel and a bar of soap and proceeded to clean Jane’s face. It was a simple task and rewarding as with each wipe of the cloth another layer of grime came away until she looked almost radiant. She soaped the flannel and washed around her neck then over her upper chest. Jane didn’t move or react which encouraged Holly as she made a first soapy pass over the girl’s breasts. As the flannel brushed over the nipples there was a slight movement but nothing that would suggest offence or discomfort. She swallowed hard as she worked quickly, washing with the flannel, applying soap and brushing over her skin as she worked her way down towards her thighs. She held her breath as she slid the flannel between the girl’s legs and cleaned her anus and back up over her pussy. As her heart beat heavily in her chest she repeated the action but as she pulled the flannel through she let her hand remain, touching the girls pussy lips, up over her clit in the briefest of encounters. There was no reaction from Jane but for Holly it was the most adventurous, erotic thing she had done since losing her virginity to Rob.

 

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