I parked my distinctly elderly Ford Fiesta illegally outside my new flat. I didn’t have much stuff but had managed to buy some furniture from the previous occupant, so I had at least a sofa and chairs, a bed to sleep in and a table to eat at. I carted my few things indoors and looked around. My own place, for the first time in my life. I was a property owner. Well, a part-owner anyway, with the mortgage company holding the majority.
There was a hesitant tap on my door, and when I opened it, I saw a woman of about forty, small and mousey with a sweet smile; not my type at all, but nice anyway.
‘Hi, I’m Alison. We live upstairs and saw you arrive and wondered if you’d like some help.’
I was, of course, grateful but explained that I really didn’t need any since I had so little to move in. She wandered off but returned a little later with a bunch of flowers.
‘We thought you’d like something to add a bit of colour.’
I was rather overwhelmed. I thanked her profusely and said that if she and her husband would care to come down in say forty-five minutes, I’d have opened a bottle of wine and would love to meet them properly.
'I share with my girlfriend Kate, and we’d love to. See you in a bit.’
I did some hasty tidying and pondered. ‘Share with my girlfriend’ could mean just that or that they lived together, subtle difference but important - but then again, why would I care?
Ali arrived with Kate an hour later, by which time all was calm, at least in the kitchen. I’d need to buy pots and pans etc., but that could wait. I had glasses and a screw top bottle, so who needed more?
It transpired they were a couple. Both were small, Kate slightly rotund with short, dark hair and also not my type. But they were lovely, animated and clearly close. You can always tell. It’s the small intimacies; removing a hair from her shoulder, innocent tactile movements, shared glances. They did the lot. I liked them immediately and, to their credit, they did not outstay their welcome. By the time they left, I felt I knew them pretty well.
The next couple of weeks, we said pleasant hellos and passed the time of day as I slowly made the flat my own. It took longer than I had expected, but I got there.
I was just walking back from my garage (one of the reasons I had wanted the place along with the tiny garden) which was behind my flat, but I had to walk around the block to get to and from it. In Bath, to have a garage at all is a serious bonus. Ali was coming out of the house and stopped to chat.
‘We meet up with some friends most Fridays. We have a few drinks, some eat, some go on to club. Don’t worry, it’s all girls, but it’s not a dykes coven, do come?’
I hadn’t said I was a dyke too. I don’t volunteer it, but only because it doesn’t seem important. The fact my last relationship had ended in tears didn’t seem so important now either.
And so it was that through their good offices I slowly developed a circle of friends. Most Friday evenings I’d go and enjoy myself, chat to new people and have a bit of social fun. I realised that Ali always went clubbing but that Kate invariably walked home with me.
The first time I commented, and Kate said, ‘She’s a dirty stop out. She’ll be home about three, have a shower and wake me up of course, then expect sex. Fat chance.’ She had laughed, and I realised she was totally secure in her relationship.
It was a Friday late in August when I was late arriving at the Watering Hole. The coven was in place, and the noise of their chatter had reached, by my estimate, the third glass stage. I saw Ali and wandered over, gave her a kiss and asked where Kate was.
She pointed and said, ‘Talking to Sasha.’
I had noticed Sasha before. She was tall and slender with cut off dark blue jeans and a pale-blue button down. She wore simple blue canvas shoes which were flat, and her hair was short, beautifully cut and beautifully black. Her tits were high on her chest, and I wondered if that was because of her bra, but discounted that; nobody jacks them up like that, I thought. I could only see her profile, but liked it. I said hi to Kate, who kissed me and asked if I knew Sasha. I said we’d said hello a few times, which was true, but nothing more had passed between us. Sasha, for her part, said hi too and then they resumed their conversation. I wasn’t excluded but nor was I drawn in.
The evening reached the time when decisions were made. By this time, I was sitting with Sasha and Kate and now included. Ali came over and kissed Kate firmly on the lips.
‘We’re going to Jostlers. I know you won't come, but the option’s there.’
‘Piss off,’ said Kate. ‘I would only cramp your style. See you later, gorgeous.’
Ali and about six others strolled off in a noisy column, and that left about five of us around the table. The number soon diminished to three.
Kate said, ‘I’m off, walk me home?’ Something about the way Sasha’s head moved stopped me from agreeing.
‘I’m in the mood for a couple more. You okay to walk home alone?’
‘Sure. Be good.’ With a knowing smile, she picked up her frumpy bag and kissed us both goodbye.
I poured some wine from the bottle on the table and smiled at Sasha.
‘Kate fancies you, you know. She’d never do anything about it, she’s a total love nut when I comes to Ali but, in the right circumstances...’
‘You think so? Well, I like them both a lot, but they are definitely not my types.’
‘Do you always study people?’
I wasn’t sure what she meant and said so.
‘You seem to take everything in when you meet someone or see them for the first time. I didn’t feel like I was being undressed, more recorded.’ She smiled as she said this, and I realised she was right; I do do that. I laughed and said I had been found out.
‘I don’t mind at all. I check people out too.’ We were sitting closer now.
‘So if someone’s not your type, does that preclude them completely?’
I thought about this and then tried to explain. ‘There are barriers, some that are first glance barriers that can be overcome and others that arise as you get to know someone, and they are harder to go past.’
She nodded. ‘What are the first glance barriers?’
‘Height and shape and looks, all of which are superficial and easily overcome. Some accents can put me off. Doc Martins shoes do it. What about you?’
‘Language,’ she said. ‘I don’t mind bad language, but I only like it if it emphasises rather than punctuates. There’s one high class dimwit who sometimes joins us, and she says “abso-fucking-lutely” about three times a minute and it drives me to distraction.’ I laughed and nodded, knowing the girl and what she meant. ‘Then there’s halitosis of course. Oh, and large obvious tattoos. I don’t mind discreet, delicate tats, but a map of the underworld in 3D doesn’t appeal.’ I was laughing a lot now.
We drank and chatted some more, then she said, ‘If I asked you to come home for a brandy, would you be pleased or disappointed if I didn’t drag you to my bedroom?’
‘Neither. But a drink would be nice.’
It turned out that she lived fairly close to my flat, and we had a brandy and chatted some more in her comfortable and well-appointed sitting room. As I left, she gave me a soft kiss on the cheek and asked me if I’d like supper with her on Wednesday. I said I’d love to, and we arranged to meet at a restaurant I didn’t know but would find.
Monday to Wednesday was a steep learning curve at my new job. The office was a graphic design business and I was PA to the MD, a large woman of about forty-five who swore a lot. I smiled to myself that Sasha would find that a barrier. I stored up details to share with her on Wednesday.
Learning my new job made the time pass quickly. I was a bit late getting to the restaurant and apologised and explained. She had an open bottle of wine in an ice bucket and poured some for me. I took her in a she did so. Beige trousers with pleats, a white blouse and beautiful, short boots that shone like conkers. She looked gorgeous.
‘Like the shoes?’
I smiled and apologised but said I adored them.
‘No need to apologise, I quite like it. You look good.’
‘Thank you, so do you.’
We talked, mostly about my new job and a little about her; she did something clever at the University. She laughed when I told her about my new boss and seemed impressed that I had remembered, although I had replayed our conversations in my mind almost every hour that I wasn’t working.
I suggested coffee at mine and she agreed. We walked home with my arm in hers, and I felt comfortable and found myself liking her a lot.
‘You meant coffee?’
She laughed out loud at my mimicry of Tanya the high class nitwit. ‘Good, because I have a rule I always follow.’ She stopped at this point and stood in front of me with her hands on my shoulders. ‘First date, nothing inside me below the waist.’
I smiled, ‘And a very good rule it is too.’ I found myself meaning it too. She was taking her time and so was I. No pressure.
‘There is a fork in the road of friendship that either keeps going on to friendship or turns to love.’
‘There’s an earlier fork that turns into a dead end.’
‘There is, but I think we passed that on Friday, don’t you?’
She sat at my kitchen table as we drank coffee, and I found a small bottle of brandy I use for cooking, which was good enough to drink. Never cook with wine or spirit you wouldn’t drink was one of my rules.
We moved into my sitting room and sat on the clean but shabby sofa side by side. It was then that she kissed me properly for the first time. It was not a tongue kiss, but it was warm, and her mouth roamed over my lips and cheeks.
As she sipped her brandy after, she tapped my knee. ‘I hate tights.’
‘So do I.’ Her eyebrow lifted.
‘So these are?’
‘Yes, they are.’
I nodded, yes.
‘That’s good, it allows me to be accurate with my other rule.’
Before I could ask what that was, she kissed me again. I pulled away from her and said, ‘You said nothing inside you below the waist?’
She nodded, smiling, and I rejoined her mouth and let my tongue extend into her. She drew it in by sucking gently, and then her tongue entered me, and I felt a jolt in my pussy and knew I had got suddenly very, very wet. I felt her hand on my knee and followed it in my mind as it slid up under my dress and her fingertips seemed to be checking what I had told her, walking as they did around my stocking top.
During the next break, I asked her about her second rule of first date etiquette.
‘Hands no further than the line of a stocking.’ She was grinning. ‘I won’t see you Friday – I have a family matter to deal with. When you invite me to dinner on Saturday, different rules apply.’
I pointed out that she was wearing trousers.
‘The rule applies though, you just have to use your imagination.’
‘Do you ever wear them?’
‘Very seldom. I don’t wear skirts much, to be honest. I am usually in bare feet or I wear, and this will sound a bit odd perhaps, short silk socks. In boots like these, they are simply divine.’
‘I like your style.’ I managed to get this out just before mouth joined mouth again and the tongues danced together. My hand explored her thigh and liked what it felt.
We kissed again at the door as she was leaving.
I asked, ‘What time can you get to me on Saturday?’
‘Would 7.30 be okay?’
I wandered off to bed when she had left, feeling wonderful.
On Friday night, the first at the end of a week in the new job, I definitely needed a drink and went out with Kate and Ali and the rest. Needless to say, Kate and Ali were all ears, desperate to know about me and Sasha. Had she not come that evening because she was giving me the elbow? Was I in love? No to both, although I wasn’t entirely sure about the second question. Was I seeing her again? Oooo – Saturday. Can we come? No to that too, but with a laugh from us all.
As Kate and I walked home, she took my hand. ‘Sasha’s a doll. She’s lovely but a bit bruised. Her ex left her for a man. That was about two years ago, so be gentle, it hurt her a lot.’
I promised I would be and then, for the first time, told Kate about the end of my relationship.
‘You poor cow. If Ali ever does that, she’ll have a knife in her.’
‘Course she wouldn’t. Who else could love that feckless witch as much as I do?’
We had coffee together and were still drinking when Ali got in. No jokes about ‘caught you’ or anything, just a long hug for Kate and soft kiss for me, and I went home and they went to bed. I thought again how secure their relationship was and how mine had felt like that. Poor Sasha, I knew some of what she felt. Neither of us had mentioned our late relationships. Perhaps we might as things develop.
‘There are no photographs in your sitting room. Family and so on.’
‘You have some of yours, I know, but I only have pics of my dad, and they are in my study.’
I was putting the final touches to coq au vin and she was sitting at my table. She’d chosen a split skirt which, I guessed, was a halfway between trousers and a dress. It was black and flared to her calves and emphasised her slenderness. A white silk shirt above and flat black shoes completed her outfit, apart from a single gold strand at her neck and right wrist. She had the air of an Edwardian horsewoman about her. I liked it. I’d chosen a long floaty dress that buttoned to my knees and was open below. It was autumnal shades of brown and gold and red and I loved it and it made me feel good. I wore no shoes but I had, of course, worn stockings.
When she’d arrived, she had given me a bunch of flowers and a bottle of bubbles which I had promptly opened. I sat facing her, raised my glass and thanked her for coming.
She told me about her ex then. Her name was Lilly, and the break had been violently courteous. It had obviously hurt her a lot, and I did not mention mine because this was about her. She told the story without rancor, but I could feel her pain. I held her hand as she told me, no tears, no obvious regrets, just facts. I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed it.
It was about ten when we went into the sitting room. I had lit low lights and considered a fire, but it was still too warm for that. It got warmer as her arm went across my back, and I felt that it was right that I should let her lead, take things at her pace. I responded, but did not initiate. I didn’t need to explain, I knew she understood.
‘Do you have rules for second dates?’
Sasha smiled. ‘It depends. If I feel my attentions might be welcomed, then I relax the first date rules quite a bit.’ Her smile broadened as she unbuttoned the top few buttons of my dress. ‘I have never noticed you wearing a bra.’
My little tits were almost on view now, and I said, ‘You can see why.’
Her hand slid inside my dress and she held me beautifully, her eyes locked on mine.
One was now out of my dress and in her hand, her thumb tracing my nipple, which had hardened to be long and obvious. She leant to kiss it, then sucked it slowly and for a long time while her free hand stroked my hair and face. She came up for air and I kissed her mouth again.
Sasha shifted on the sofa so that she could almost face me, and she opened my dress further, almost reverently. Tentatively, I reached out and covered her breasts with my hands, and she smiled at me.
‘If you want to, you can open me up. You don’t have to ask permission.’
I felt that what she was really saying was that it was okay for me to take some initiative, and I needed no second bidding. I opened her shirt and saw that her breasts were firm and high and proud inside a soft, silk bra. I palmed her nipples and she made a small noise of pleasure. Her mouth closed over mine again, and I moved one hand to touch her face while the other hand stroked her breast. The bra was, I discovered, a front opener, and I fumbled with the catch until at last I undid it and they were free, open to my touch. Now, with both hands, I caressed them and felt the warmth and smoothness in my fingers. She moaned softly into my mouth.
Now she opened more of my dress. I had worn sheer knickers, and I knew that if she looked, she’d be able to see my triangle dark beneath them. Her hands moved down my sides and stroked my skin gently. Her mouth barely left mine. My dress was wide open now, and she stopped kissing me and leant back to look at me.
‘Could we go to bed?’ Her voice seemed hesitant, reluctant to spoil the moment. I stood up and took her hand to lead her into my bedroom. I’d made the bed ready in case this was going to happen. I’d lit a couple of candles and draped my nightdress over the footboard of the bed, hoping it would be redundant. Standing beside the bed, I looked up into her eyes, my hands on her hips.
‘Do you want to undress me?’
She smiled at that, and I finished opening her shirt and eased it and her bra off her shoulders. Her breasts were
high on her chest, but not so as to look odd, more proud. I kissed each of them, sucking each nipple softly and teasing it with my tongue while her hands stroked my hair.
I opened the buttons of her fly and eased her split skirt down, and she stepped out of it. Her mons was covered with a scrap of white silk. I could see the crease of her through it. I was almost kneeling in front of her and now I did kneel. It was not a kneel of submission, but a practicality so I could lean in and lick each beautiful, long thigh. As I did so, she eased my dress off my shoulders and ran her hands down my back, her nails raking gently over my skin.
I kissed the front of her panties and nuzzled, but she pulled me gently up and swung her legs onto the bed. She lay on her side, and I went to unhook my suspender belt, but she asked me not to. I lay beside her and we looked into each other’s eyes, and each placed a hand on the hip of the other.
‘Rule one is now abandoned.’
And so, in a minute, was I. I kissed her more boldly now, my tongue searching in her mouth and my hands roamed freely until they came to her silk-covered pussy. I slipped my hand down inside and touched trimmed hair. I left my hand unmoving there, letting her get used to the intimacy, and to my enormous pleasure, her hand first covered mine and then pressed through the scrap of silk on my finger, pressing hard enough to say wordlessly that I could proceed. I slipped between wet folds of skin into the deep warmth of her and felt like I had never felt before. Her hand eased my knickers aside, and within seconds, her finger was inside me. Our mouths locked together; we simply stroked inside each other for a while, then she broke the kiss and pulled away from me. She almost ripped off her panties and then pulled mine off as I lifted my arse to allow it. She pushed me onto my back with one hand firm on my breast bone, then knelt between my wide spread legs and licked down my body until she got to my pussy which she began first to kiss, then to lick and ultimately to enter again as she licked around her fingers.
My fingers were in her hair, and without gripping, I held her gently there, hoping she knew this meant I loved it. She moved again to straddle my face, lowering her pussy to my mouth before re-engaging with mine. I lifted my head and suckled at her lips, tongue entering between them. We were both moaning and grunting now. I fingered her deeply and licked around my finger as she had.
It was very sudden. Her face came away from me, her back arched, she started a sort of keening noise and I had to lift my head higher to maintain contact. She orgasmed then with a howl, and a lot of moisture covered me. I was in heaven. Her body continued to quiver and she slumped forward.
Sasha recovered slowly and turned carefully and now she looked up at me and whispered, ‘Now it’s your turn.’ She buried her face and with exquisite gentleness she brought me to a loud, wet climax.
We lay there together, kissing, touching and talking in low intimacy. We made love several times during the night, not always reaching orgasm, but always with tenderness and deep arousal. My legs were strangers by the time I fell asleep, spooned against her back.
I brought her tea in the morning, and she sat up, unselfconsciously naked.
‘What an evening and what a night!’
‘We could stay here all day. I could bring us some food and drink when we need it.’
‘I am ravenous,’ she laughed.
‘Scrambled egg, smoked salmon and champagne?’
‘Don’t you have something more romantic?’ We both laughed and, naked, I went to the kitchen to prepare her breakfast.
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