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I had moved to the cottage a few days before after the disastrous breakdown of my last relationship. Tina had been my great love and when she left me I was devastated. I left the flat we had shared for nearly three years and moved to a small village in the West Country where I could lick emotional wounds and re-awaken my love of walking in the country. I had even found a job. It wasn’t that much of a job but it filled my days and paid my bills. The early summer weather was good and I began to feel a little optimism for the first time for months.
The house next to mine was a much larger, grander place than mine. I arrived home one evening and managed to park right outside my door. As I stepped out of the car the door of the neighbour’s house opened and a tall, rather skinny girl emerged. She had a pair of black jeans and a white shirt on. Her mousey hair was a little lank and she wore steel rimmed glasses. She smiled at me.
“So glad I saw you arrive. I wanted to introduce myself and wondered if you’d like to come in for a glass of wine one evening? I’m Sally.”
I walked around the car and offered my hand.
“Deborah, usually Debs. Hi, Sally, that’s really kind of you. I don’t know anyone in the village yet so it’ll be nice to know my neighbour.”
“How would this evening suit you?”
“That would be great, thank you. What time do you want me to come in?”
“Oh, let’s say 8? I’ll do a bit of supper and you can meet Frankie.”
“That’s so good of you, I’m looking forward to it.”
I unlocked the cottage and said, “See you later,” and closed the door behind me. It was about 6 and I decided to watch the news and have a coffee before getting changed. I was really looking forward to getting to know someone. Solitude has its benefits but too much can get you down a bit.
I decided to wear a pair of beige trousers and a white silk shirt. I showered, got my hair into a semblance of order and got dressed. I seldom wear a bra but I decided I had better do so tonight. My nipples do tend to show through the shirt and I didn’t want her husband getting an eyeful; she might think I was a lonely, hungry woman trying to steal him!
Frankie turned out to be a woman of about 40. She was tall, slender with really short red hair and was wearing a sort of kaftan, multicoloured and very ethnic. She opened the door and said, “Ah, you must be Debs. I’m Frankie. Do come in.”
I followed her into the house and said the usual things about nice place, thanks for inviting me and so on. She led me into a simply vast kitchen where Sally was doing some alchemy over an Aga. She turned to say hi while stirring the contents of a saucepan and waved a hand towards a wine bottle. Frankie asked what I’d like. I settled for white wine and then Frankie and I sat at the kitchen’s large, pine table and chatted while Sally worked. Eventually she joined us.
We discussed the village, my job, the neighbours. We ate a delicious meal, far grander than the simple supper Sally had indicated and I, naturally, drank far too much. My excuses for this last were that they were good company and they kept filling my glass without reference to me. Lame excuses they may well be, but I have to justify it to my diet somehow.
They were casually open about their relationship. They were tactile with each other and affectionate. I didn’t tell them that I was lesbian too, it seemed somehow to be irrelevant. They were like a comfortable married couple. I told them at some stage that my relationship had ended and that I’d moved to try and put it all behind me. They were inquisitive without being intrusive. They were lovely and I had a great time. I told them so as I left around 1 am, slightly less than steady on my feet.
Over the ensuing weeks I began to see more of them and one evening, over a beer in the local village pub, Sally asked me if I liked sailing. I told her that I had loved it when my dad took me out in his boat and that I’d done the exams in dinghies. She was delighted because, she said, it was a great enthusiasm for her but that Frankie hated it. Would I like to come to her sailing club with her? The dilemma was that by this time, of course, they both knew my sexuality and I was a bit concerned that Frankie might not like the idea too much. But, it seems, she had anticipated this.
“I think it would be great if you went with Sal. She’d love to have some female company and I know that I can trust you with her.” She said this entirely without edge and I decided to accept.
The club was friendly and the sailing good. Sally was experienced and extremely competent and under her guidance my confidence grew. Our friendship had a sisterly quality which I treasured. The other members of the crew were a married couple called Ron and Judith who owned the yacht. They made me feel welcome and after a few weeks we became a fairly well organised team. The fact that I was quite slim made an impression on Ron who found it easier to hoist me up the mast when necessary than it was to lift Jude who was, to say the least, chunky. They were a great fun couple and easy with Sally and me.
In late August Sally poker oyna asked me if I’d like to go to the summer party with her and Frankie. I agreed willingly and so one Saturday evening the three of us, dressed in posh frocks, got in her car, an ancient Volvo estate that showed a deal of reluctance in starting, and rattled and clattered our way to the club. Frankie referred to the car as “Sally’s Vulva” whenever she referred to it which made us hoot with laughter. We were in fine spirits by the time we arrived.
Frankie’s evening dress was a plain, green cotton affair that seemed to me to clash hideously with her red hair. For once, Sally had made a real effort in her clothes and she wore a long, grey skirt and a yellow blouse. Her hair was clean and shining and I noticed that Frankie couldn’t keep her hand of Sally’s arse even when talking to friends at the club. They seemed oblivious to the stares which were, I admit, not unfriendly. It seemed they were an accepted part of club life as a pair and everyone seemed relaxed and the entire party was a really pleasant affair.
I was talking to Sally after the meal when I noticed a woman I hadn’t seen before. She was standing alone at the bar and drinking champagne. Her dress was a long, white silk affair, slashed to the hip on one side revealing simply wonderful legs. She had a wonderful bust which her dress somehow managed to reveal and conceal all at once. Her white sandals were high heeled and blonde hair, thick and shiny, capped the vision.
I asked Sally if she knew who she was and Sally started to turn. “Don’t make it so obvious,” I hissed too late. She waved at the girl, who smiled and waved back.
“That’s Julie. She used to sail but doesn’t much any more. I actually know her very well, want to meet her? I think,” she said with a rather mischievous smile, “that you’ll like her.”
She led me to the bar.
“Hi, Jules. This is Debs, she moved in next door to me and Frankie a while ago.”
We shook hands and Julie offered to get us both a drink. Sally made excuses, explaining that she had left a glass with Frankie and anyway had to stay sober enough to drive home. “I’m just her bloody slave, really,” she laughed and walked away.
I found Julie easy to talk to. Within a very short while I was at ease with her and she suggested that we go out onto the terrace to enjoy the last of the evening sun together. We collected more champagne and I followed her out. I was enjoying the company of this tall, attractive woman.
“Sally’s a good neighbour. She and Frankie have made me really welcome.”
“She’s a very accommodating girl. She has actually spoken to me about you.”
“Oh? She didn’t mention that to me.”
“We speak often.” I got an impression that there was more to their friendship than was apparent to me but I couldn’t really get a fix on what it was. I felt Julie move closer to me and I enjoyed the touch of her skin on my bare arm. I tried not to make it obvious but a familiar feeling arose in my panties.
“The best of the party’s over now. There will be some dreary speeches and a few prizes will be dished out and then all the men will get pissed and start trying to convert us.” Julie laughed and I realised she was telling me that she was lesbian too and that she knew I was. I turned to look at her and she smiled and nodded. “Relax, Debs, it’s doesn’t have to be a secret. Would you fancy a walk as a way of avoiding the boring speeches? No-one will notice if we leave.”
I think I took a nanosecond to decide. “I can always get a taxi home and let Sally and Frankie go without me.”
“I need the loo. I’ll meet you by the door.”
I made my excuses to Frankie and Sally then went to the door where Julie eventually joined me. The walk from the club took us down to the start of the beach. The sun had gone now and it had turned into one of those wonderful balmy summer evenings.
“You see that block of flats over there at the end of the beach?” I nodded. “That’s where I live. Fancy a stroll along the beach and a coffee?”
I looked down at our feet and the strappy sandals we both wore. “No problem, we’ll just take them off,” she said, smiling.
We did so and descended onto the sand and then she looked down. “You’d better take those tights off or they’ll be ruined.”
Now, I’ve never got on with tights. In fact I hate them but for once I wished that I did. She was obviously right but, for some reason, I wasn’t sure that I wanted her to know I was wearing stockings. I hesitated. “Don’t be daft, Debs.”
I hesitated a little longer and she said, “Debs, do as your told.” Her voice held an authority that was compelling.
I put my shoes on the beach and turning away, lifted the hem of my dress so I could reach the clips on my right thigh. I felt her hand steadying me and, perhaps, a soft, “oh” when she realised I was wearing stockings. I rolled them off carefully and hastily slipped them into my bag. I picked up my shoes, raised my dress a little and we resumed our walk.
“Let me carry your shoes.” Where did that come from?
She said nothing, just handed them to me as canlı poker oyna if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Give me one of your stockings.”
We were now standing on the balcony of her flat sipping yet more wine. The view was over the bay and it was beautiful. Her flat was large and well decorated. Expensive taste.
I looked at her questioningly.
She smiled and, for some unknown reason, I did as she said. She took it from me, stretched it out and then, to my utter amazement, tied it around my left wrist. “Looks good.” She continued to talk to me as if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired between us.
Eventually I lifted my left hand from the rail around the balcony and whispered, “How did you know?”
“Sally said she thought so and you carried my shoes like a natural, so I decided to make sure.”
“Yes, Sally. I told you we’re close.”
She put her hand on my shoulder and pushed me so I had to turn to face her. She raised her hands to cup my face, allowing her nails to gently stroke over my eyebrows and cheeks. The hands moved down over my shoulders and teased the thin straps of my blue dress. She moved them again tantalisingly close to but never touching my breasts and down until they rested on my hips. Then with barely a movement she kissed me and my mouth opened to let her in.
I took a taxi to get home. We had kissed and talked for about three hours. Most of it was about our lives, our backgrounds and our aspirations. She kissed my lips and her hands never strayed from my arms or hips and I took that as a clear indication that mine should not either. As I was leaving, she untied the stocking that had remained on my wrist and placed it on a table in her hallway. I went to pick it up and she said, quietly, “No.” So, I left it there. She kissed me again, a long, soft, wet kiss and pulled away as we heard the taxi arrive.
She took my hand and wrote her ‘phone number on the back of it.
Now, there is some perceived wisdom that you never ‘phone the day after a first meeting. That, apparently, appears desperate. The third day appears indifferent. The second day after is the day of choice.
I called her the day immediately after we had met. Well, what does it matter if she thought I was desperate? There was no answer and no way to leave a message. I called her the next day. No answer. On day three the ‘phone was answered, by her cleaner. “Miss Julie is away, she’s back in a few days. I’ll tell her you called. What’s your name?”
Why had she not told me?
That Friday evening, as I arrived home from work, Sally came out of her front door. “Ah, Debs,” she said. “I was hoping to see you. Can I come in with you?”
We went inside and, as I removed coat and scarf and she chattered a bit and then said, “About Julie.”
“What about her?”
I hadn’t meant it to come out sharply but I think it did, she almost winced.
“She, she, well, she called me today.”
“Is she OK?”
“Yes, yes, she’s fine. She told me to give you a message.”
“What is it?”
“She would like you to go to her flat tonight.”
“And that’s it?”
“I’ll call her.”
“No. You just have to go.”
Now, I am not the least bit inclined to stand on my dignity. There was however, something weird about this summons and its delivery. Why through Sally? Why didn’t she ‘phone? I must have said the last bit aloud because Sally said, “Because she doesn’t have your number.”
I poured us both a glass of wine and sat. “I can’t go tonight, Sally. I’ve got so much to do. I’ll call her.”
She looked at me, “Yes, that might be best. Will you do it now?”
“Why, do you want to listen?” I was confused.
“No, sorry, no, I just wanted to be sure you rang her.”
“OK, Sally, what’s going on here?”
She took a gulp from her wine, hesitated and then said, “I’m sorry, I should have told you this before. Julie and I are close.”
“She told me that.” I was getting cross now and she could see it.
“It’s not that we’re lovers, although we were before Frankie. We’re like sisters now, close sisters. We share a lot and she told me she really liked you and that……….”
“That my, er, suspicions about you were true.”
“Oh, this is great. So you and Julie have been talking about me, about intimate things to do with me. Sure, I’ll call her.” I stood to get the ‘phone from the kitchen.
“Wait, it’s not like that. Really it’s not.”
“It bloody well seems like it to me!”
“Please, let me try to explain?”
“Julie is my best friend, after Frankie of course, like I said, sisters almost. We do share a lot. And, yes, I did tell her a while ago that I thought you might be like me.”
“Yes, like me. So all she did was say that I was right. I promise, no details or anything. I promise. I cant tell you how pleased I am because you’re such a nice girl and she needs someone like you.”
“So why didn’t she tell internet casino me she’d be away?”
“She didn’t know. She had to go away to see her Dad, he went into hospital. No, he’s fine,” she said in answer to my questioning eyebrows, “but she had to go.”
“Yes, of course.”
I took the ‘phone from the kitchen and called.
“It’s Debs. How’s your Dad?”
“He’s fine thanks. Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t let you know. I didn’t have your number.”
“I know, Sally’s here with me now, she told me.”
“Oh, great, so, can you come over?”
“I cant, really, I have a lot to do.” I was wavering by this time because I really wanted to see her but it was true I had a lot to get done.”
And so it was that at 8.30 that evening I arrived at her door.
When the door opened, Julie was there surrounded by the smell of herbs cooking, a warm, inviting smell. She held the door as I went in then kissed me lightly before leading me into her kitchen where the enticing smells were accompanied by steam and warmth.
“I hope you like chicken?”
“It smells delicious. I was sorry to hear about your Dad.”
“A bit of a false alarm, he’s fine now. He’s got a dicky heart and so we occasionally get these problems. Sally spoke to me. She told me you were a bit angry with us.”
“It’s just I don’t like being talked about, especially about, well, private things.”
“I understand.” She passed me a glass of red wine and I sat at her table as she busied herself around the kitchen. “Listen, Sally was my girl. You know what that means I suspect? At least, you may not know the details but you get a vague picture. Just like you, Sally has a right to some privacy so you don’t need to know the details. But you do need to know about me.”
I watched her, her soft blue skirt and white blouse were covered with a striped blue apron. Her hair was pinned back, I assumed to keep it out of her way as she worked. She wore no stockings or shoes.
“You know a little about me. I’m, how shall I put it, a bit of a control freak. What is the word you would use?”
She smiled into her saucepan. “That will do nicely.” I wasn’t sure if she meant the sauce or my choice of word.
Then she sat opposite me. “Dominant, yes. Does that disturb you?”
“I hoped not, thought not.”
We watched each other for a few seconds, my heart was banging. She smiled and I smiled back. She stood and leaned over the table and kissed me. It was a gentle, soft kiss to which I responded readily.
She resumed her cooking. “We don’t go at this too fast. We take our time, get to know each other, to feel safe. Like a kind of journey of discovery, is that ok with you?”
“Good, then get your arse off that chair, pour me another glass and shake that pasta onto the plates which are in the oven.”
I did as instructed and 25 minutes later had finished simply the best spaghetti with roasted tomato sauce I have ever eaten. I told her so and she smiled, clearing the table and bringing late season strawberries and clotted cream from the worktop. This was followed by coffee which we took into her sitting room with that gorgeous late-evening view of the sea. A few boats drifted in the light breeze.
“Why don’t you sail anymore?”
“I blame Sally.” I stood by the window watching the scene and felt her close by me and her arm slip around my shoulders. “I am not going to tell you our secrets,” I felt rather than saw the smile, “but we always sailed together. The dynamic of our relationship changed over time. She became more confident, less submissive and, well, we agreed that we’d be more comfortable as friends. It was the best end to a relationship I ever had, and most unusually, we stayed friends, more than friends. It’s genuine, platonic love. But, I didn’t want to sail with her anymore. I can’t explain why. Maybe I just stopped wanting to sail. I think though it was because she wanted, no needed, to sail with Frankie. So there you are. We are the very best of friends and I don’t get wet anymore.”
She hugged me and I turned to face her. In the fading light we kissed. The kiss grew in intensity. I opened my mouth and her tongue slipped between my teeth to caress my own. Her hands never left my shoulders, mine never left her waist. We must have been like that for 10 minutes.
She gently pulled away and said, “Will you stay with me tonight?”
She left me there and walked out of the room.
When she returned a few seconds later she held my stocking in my hand. She took my wrist and tied the stocking around it. Her eyes never left mine as she did it. She kissed my hand and led me to the sofa.
We sat and kissed again. This time her hand went straight to my breast and I let a sigh into her mouth as she caressed me. Her fingers deftly undid the buttons on my blouse and her hand slipped inside the cotton to cup my naked breast and palm my nipple. I moved my hand to ape hers but she pushed it gently away. There was no explanation. She sucked my tongue and squeezed my breasts. She bit my neck. I licked her lips and nuzzled her ears. I stroked her hair. I so desperately wanted to touch her, to feel her nipple swell to my touch but she wouldn’t let me. Every time my hand wandered south she put it back again.
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