Since You've Been Gone: Finding Lesbians' Corner (Angie's Adventures Book 5)

by Limey Lady

  Hungry again, she got back in town shortly after five and stopped to buy haddock and chips at the first fish shop she came to. Eaten out of the paper, using her fingers instead of a puny wooden fork, it was as enjoyable meal as she could remember. As she munched the last of the chips she neared Ye Olde John of Gaunt, the pub she’d dined in the day before.

  Yes, with Mummy and Daddy paying, their way of wishing her farewell.

  The pub was traditional and alluring. It was easy to decide that her hands needed ridding of grease, salt and vinegar. Dropping her waste in a conveniently placed bin, she went inside and ordered a pint of Landlord. Then, hands duly washed and dried, she leant on the bar and pondered.

  Should she spend the evening bar-hopping around town? Or should she go back to the Union? It was Saturday so the town would no doubt be busy. But bar-hopping wasn’t much fun on one’s lonesome, was it? She wasn’t likely to make new friends bar-hopping on her own. If she went back to the Union she’d fall into one conversation or another, wouldn’t she?

  And if she went back to the Union Sarah-Jayne might be there.

  Sarah-Jayne, the girl hung like a horse.

  Angie’s jury was still out on Sarah-Jayne. Maybe seeing her again after a few jars of Marston’s would help her decide, one way or the other.

  Well, probably the other.

  *****

  The bar was rocking and rolling when she got there. She recognized some of last night’s small groups and pairings, noticeably less tentative now, not quite so nervous and self-conscious. Pool balls noisily clacked together and guys cursed in various regional accents as well-aimed darts bounced out of the boards. Spassky and Fischer were back in the same old place, looking as if they were still deliberating over the same old moves.

  And the juke box was blaring, of course. Just then it was Elvis Costello, not wanting to go to Chelsea.

  ‘Is it a pint of the usual?’ Joe asked Angie’s tits.

  She deliberately wiggled them for him as she said yes. Joe had no chance of getting into bed with her but she’d taken a shine to him. And they were obviously going to be seeing a lot of each other, so why not be friendly?

  Sipping her beer, she cast around. Craig was at the bar earnestly chatting to Tim; they’d clearly either hit it off or found an affinity for locomotives. There was no sign of anyone else she’d rubbed shoulders with so, prompted by a change of record to Holidays in the Sun, she set off to examine the selection on the box.

  ‘You won’t find much less than ten years old on there, Angie,’ someone said before she’d properly begun.

  It was another small woman with green hair. This one wasn’t spitting and snarling, though. This one was smiling and not at all aggressive.

  ‘I don’t really want anything less than ten years old,’ Angie said. ‘Er, how do you know my name?’

  ‘You’re infamous already.’ The girl laughed. ‘Charlie and Ruby have seen to that.’

  Her hair was short and spiky, her shade of green lighter than Ruby’s, powdery almost. Punky-ish, she had plenty of visible tattoos and piercings. Her body was slim to the point of being skinny, making her tits seem disproportionally large. “Alternative” was the word that immediately sprang to mind.

  And look at those boots: black leather and almost up to her knees!

  Angie’s nipples were hardening just looking at her.

  ‘I see,’ she said. ‘You were in at lunchtime, were you?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I’m Billie, by the way, although some folk call me Will.’

  ‘You’re not a fresher, are you?’

  ‘No, but I’m helping out during Freshers’ Week, before I start my final year. Say, do you want to see my latest tat?’

  When Angie said yes Billie pulled up her T-shirt and tugged down her leggings, exposing her left hip, and exposing a microscopic pair of pink panties, too. The tattoo was in curly old writing. Angie had to lean in to read it.

  ‘“I will if you will,”’ she quoted.

  ‘That’s what they all say!’ Billie laughed delightedly. ‘It’s a play on words, see? Bill and Will and so will I . . . If I’m asked by the right girl.’

  Angie laughed with her. Not laughing wasn’t an option.

  ‘I take it you’re another member of the Lesbian Society,’ she said.

  Chapter Six

  Billie was good company and, in Angie’s mind at least, the night wasn’t going to end with mild flirting in the bar. All indications were that Billie felt likewise. And what was that about “mild flirting”? After a few beers their flirting was positively outrageous.

  Not that being outrageous was untoward in the Union Bar. In there anything went. Long before nine o’clock even the most reclusive of freshers were up dancing and singing along with Debbie Harry, all of them hanging on invisible telephones.

  ‘Shit,’ said Billie, before Angie could ring hers off the wall. ‘Don’t look.’

  As if anyone could ignore a cue like that!

  Ruby was standing there in the doorway, holding something in her hand, biding her time. Finally content she had attention from all quarters, she strutted into the bar. And it was immediately apparent she had hold of one end of a dog lead.

  Charlie was at the other end; it was attached to a studded leather collar around her neck.

  ‘No fucking way,’ Angie gasped.

  Billie grabbed her arm before she could intervene.

  ‘Don’t make it worse,’ she hissed. ‘Watch and learn.’

  Angie somehow managed to hold back and watch as last night’s lover was led into the bar.

  ‘I’ll have a pint of Marston’s,’ Ruby said boldly, ‘and a dish of water for my poodle.’

  ‘Not in here,’ Joe replied levelly.

  ‘You’re such a bore.’ Ruby’s laugh was shrill and unpleasant. ‘Okay, so I’ll have two pints of Marston’s and don’t bother with the water. I’ll pour my poodle’s beer into an ashtray.’

  ‘And I’ll throw you out of the window if you try it,’ countered Joe, ‘chill or eff off; like right now.’

  ‘Touchy, touchy,’ went Ruby. Then, evidently satisfied she’d made the impression she wanted to make: ‘Give my doggy a pint. And pat her on the head while you’re at it.’

  Joe glared at her then pulled two pints.

  Billie kept hold of Angie, restraining her.

  ‘It’s the way they are, ’she said into Angie’s ear. ‘She’s big enough to resist if she wants, isn’t she?’

  That was an incontestable argument. Angie stayed where she was.

  Ruby wasn’t done yet, though. Turning her head, sniffing the air, acting as if she’d scented something foul, she glared at Angie.

  ‘The easy cunt’s still here,’ she cried, ‘five hundred cum-circles and no shame. What a whore!’

  Angie was inclined to reply with a witty response. Perhaps with: Three hundred circles more than you, then. But Billie’s fingers were digging deep into her arm, sending out warning signals.

  So bugger it. Instead of arguing the toss she simply gave Ruby the finger.

  ‘You swivel too,’ Ruby retorted. And that was the end of it . . . For the time being, at least.

  *****

  ‘She bases herself on that 70s rock star,’ Billie explained, ‘the one who used to take her girlfriend into her local on a lead. Except with Ruby it’s not all about attention, it really is about control as well.’

  ‘I can’t believe Charlie puts up with her,’ Angie replied. ‘Why doesn’t she smash her head in?’

  ‘Perhaps conflict is what she wants.’ Billie laughed. ‘Come on, Angie, they have been at each other’s throats for the last year or so. What does that say to you?’

  ‘It says they’re crazy.’

  ‘Yes, but they do it again and again. No matter what Ruby does to put her down, Charlie just takes it.’

  ‘I heard that it wasn’t always Charlie at fault.’

  ‘She always gets the blame, but it really isn’t al
ways her fault. Ruby strays more than she does. In fact you’d better watch your ass, because one of these days she’ll be after you.’

  ‘She’s got no chance,’ Angie said with conviction. ‘And besides, she obviously hates me.’

  ‘We’ll see about that, won’t we; the old love/hate scenario? Let’s change the subject. Are you in halls? And what’s so funny about me asking?’

  ‘It seems to be a popular leading question in this bar.’ Angie laughed. ‘Yes, I’m in halls.’

  ‘Have you read all the rules?’

  ‘I did skim through.’

  ‘Well forget them. The only rule that matters is not to upset your neighbours. If they complain about you having sex, the Gestapo will come and get you. If they don’t complain, you’ll be left alone.’

  ‘I don’t even have neighbours. Not unless someone’s moved in this afternoon. And why would they complain anyway?’

  ’Some prudish folk don’t like the sound of noisy sex. And those walls aren’t very thick. The trick is to screw in silence. That can be quite exciting in itself, not being able to beg and cry out. Being furtive only adds to the experience, if you ask me.’ Billie paused before saying: ‘I’m quite the expert on activities in halls after dark. I can show you how it’s done, if you want.’

  Taking Angie’s silence as indecision, she exposed her new tattoo again and grinned.

  It still read: “I will if you will”.

  ‘Do you have a Ruby figure lurking in the background?’ Angie asked.

  ‘I absolutely do not. I’m playing the field like a good ‘un.’

  ‘Like me, you mean?’

  ‘I wish.’

  ‘I will if you will.’ Angie nodded. ‘In that case so will I.’

  Chapter Seven

  Sarah-Jayne was arriving as they left the bar.

  ‘My turn next,’ she called after them, ‘and not with you, Skinny Arse!’

  Angie took “Skinny Arse” to mean her companion. Her own arse didn’t carry an ounce of fat, but nobody in her right mind would ever call it skinny.

  ‘We don’t want to be talking much when we get there,’ Billie advised as they crossed the campus. ‘So here’s the plan. We strip for each other then you switch out the light, okay? Me, I prefer to see exactly what I’m doing, but Security might notice if we leave candles burning all night.’

  Angie didn’t even know where her light switch was but nodded anyway.

  ‘Whatever you do,’ Billie went on, ‘do not whisper. Whispers carry for miles at night. If you really have to say something, say it very softly into my ear. And whatever you do, don’t scream. Bite something to keep it in.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like a pillow or my shoulder. Don’t worry; you can go first. I’ll give you a very practical example.’

  ‘You mentioned Security. How do we get past?’

  ‘Students all look the same to those guys. We just walk in and ignore them. They’ll assume our rooms are close together and ignore us. Trust me, Angie; I’ve done this once or twice before.’

  ‘Once or twice,’ said Angie, dubiously.

  ‘Okay, so I’ve done lots of times. Relax and stop looking so guilty.’

  Angie did her best and it was good enough. Two minutes of acting “innocent” and there they were, safely locked in her room. Her heart was going like a trip hammer and her knees were weak, but at least she’d found that light switch.

  Billie held a finger to her lips and then removed her cropped leather jacket. Angie made to take off her sweatshirt but was stayed by a raised palm. Obliging as ever, she stood and watched as Billie sat on the bed to rid herself of those terribly sexy boots. Then, at Billie’s signal, she removed her Docs and socks.

  Now Billie pointed to herself and, exquisitely slowly, took off her T-shirt. Her torso had the predictable tattoos, some of the most alluring of which continued out of sight under her bra.

  Prompted by Billie’s finger, Angie at last pulled off her sweat, doing it as slowly as possible, praying she was a tenth as tantalizing as her lover.

  As her lover!

  Nerve-endings jangled and juices flowed. Being here like this was beyond belief.

  And the need for silence did add to the occasion. It really, really did!

  Billie must have been thinking along similar lines. She homed in on Angie’s tits with both hands and a hungry mouth. Somehow Angie managed not to yell out her appreciation.

  Then Billie was wriggling out of her tight jeans, kicking them carelessly away, reduced to pink panties and a knowing smile. Her legs were, Angie noticed, shapely for such a slender girl. And they were not without tattoos; she had a pouncing black panther just above her right ankle and a very colourful rose on a stem, high up her left inside leg.

  Angie wished she’d been brave enough for tattoos.

  But then Billie took off her underwired, push-up bra and she wished she’d done piercings.

  The girl only had barbells threaded through her nipples!

  Billie had a finger to her lips again. Her other hand was pointing at Angie’s jeans. Angie whipped them off in the blink of an eye and took a pace across the small room.

  Only to be stopped by another arrestingly raised palm.

  Again she stood and watched, this time as Billie sat to put her boots back on, taking forever with the laces and hooks. More juices flowed. Angie’s “older woman” sometimes kept her stockings on when fucking. The feel of her legs clad in silk or nylon was great against Angie’s bare skin. What was the feel of those leather boots going to be like?

  Apart from wildly erotic, that was.

  Eventually, heart-stopping minutes later, Billie got to her feet. Smiling at Angie, she tugged down her knickers, stepping out of them and tossing them aside.

  She had a shortly-trimmed landing strip. It was dyed a powdery green that matched her hair.

  But Angie was transfixed by her pussy. Like her tits, Billie’s pussy seemed disproportionately large. It was swollen with scalding hot blood and very visibly throbbing. There could not have ever been a girl as sexually aroused as she was; nowhere, no time, never.

  And still she had the wits to put a cautionary finger to her lips.

  Nodding understanding, Angie divested herself of her own knickers. Her flowing juices immediately slicked her thighs. She couldn’t remember ever being so wet. Even so, she reckoned that Billie was miles ahead of her.

  Make that miles and miles and miles.

  The need to taste her was humungous.

  So too was the need to kiss her. Here they were, flaunting their bodies at each other, and not a single kiss between them.

  Not even the tiniest peck.

  Angie quickly rectified that shortcoming, her head spinning as she felt Billie’s metal tongue-piercing on her own tongue.

  Omigod, what will that feel like on my clit!

  Dimly recalling the plan, Angie clicked off the lights and pushed Billie onto the bed. There was enough ambient light from outside to see yet another finger raised to her lips.

  Angie kissed the raised finger then pushed it aside and kissed Billie’s mouth. Lovely, lovely, lovely! For ten, maybe fifteen minutes she kept on kissing, her hands steadily, gradually exploring Billie’s tits, torso and arms but avoiding her pussy. Then she began nibbling her neck.

  Billie responded by biting into Angie’s shoulder, not too savagely . . . but not too gently either.

  It felt very good but, as a tactic, Angie had her doubts. It was supposed to stop Billie from yelling, wasn’t it? Much more of that it and it would be Angie screaming; not through pain but out of pure joy.

  As if such minor worries could stay her. After giving Billie’s armpits a very serious licking (and making her bite down harder than ever) she gave a little close attention to those barbells. And it was close attention indeed.

  Next, she assaulted Billie’s quite predictably pierced navel. Billie might well have cum at that point. Angie sincerely hoped that she did. Making her cum was the object
of the exercise, wasn’t it?