I focused Dad with all the scorn I could muster and growled, “My Stepmom’s a bitch,” making sure to draw out the words. She was, really. I didn’t know what he saw in her. Well, to be honest, I did know. Lean legs, a perfect bum and those creamy white C-sized orbs on a body that could have belonged to an eighteen-year-old, all of which she flaunted at every opportunity, were hard to overlook.

Ever since Clare had strutted into our home on Dad’s hand half a year ago, she had behaved as if she owned the place, and we clashed regularly about that. And while the topic of marriage had yet to come up, she even wanted me to call her ‘mommy’! She was only ten years my senior!

“Don’t,” dad’s infuriated voice shook me from my angry reverie, “call her that. If you can’t respect her, you’re free to move out. You’re of age, so nothing’s stopping you! Now you either change your behavior, or I’ll help you pack your things. Is this clear?”

His face had turned crimson over his short tirade, and I had never seen him this enraged, not even when Jess and Millie had practically carried me into the house at three in the morning because I was too pissed to walk on my own. My heart had started to beat madly, and the blood was rushing in my ears. I feared that I had gone too far.

“Is this clear?” he asked again with a cutting edge in his voice.

So I did the only thing I could. I nodded, murmuring, “Yes, dad. I’m sorry.”

He lifted his hands in a gesture of futility and sighed, clearly doubting my truthfulness. But then he shrugged. “I have to hurry to catch my plane.” His expression softened. “Listen, Princess, I know that the situation isn’t always easy. Please try to be a bit understanding and to get on with Clare. She really cares about you.” He hugged me and kissed me on the forehead.

What could I do but nod and whisper, “Okay. I’ll try, Dad. Have a safe trip.”

“Stay safe too.”

And then he was gone, like so often, away for some obscure business in a foreign country for a whole week, and I was left to cope with his girlfriend.

Speak of the devil. I was still standing in the same spot when I heard keys jiggle and two voices giggle their way towards the kitchen and me. Clare, being a real estate agent, usually went out and returned without a set pattern.

“Hi Miranda, did we miss James?” she sing-songed, strutting into the kitchen on her four inch heels which made a loud, clacking rhythm.

“By a minute,” I answered, letting a tiny bit of my satisfaction over that fact into my voice.

“Oh, too bad. Well, I’ll have to tell him about Rebecca when we talk on the phone then.”

That was when I noticed her companion, who had entered the kitchen right behind her, and did a double take. She had the same sleek blond hair as Clare, the same icy-blue eyes, and while she was almost a whole foot shorter than her, I thought for moment that she had to be her daughter. Until I realized that Rebecca was my age. Her sister, perhaps? But I was pretty sure she didn’t have one. She wore a really short denim miniskirt with a sequin pattern of a thorny rose above where her thighs met - probably one of these designer things that, while looking worn, cost more than a whole day’s wardrobe I used to wear - and glittering pink tank top. A thin silver necklace encircled her neck, adorned with a black stone again in the shape of a rose.

She waved a bit shyly at me, smiling and mouthing, “Hi!”

I waved back on instinct, and the open smile on her face made it impossible to extend my dislike for Clare to her as I had intended.

“Rebecca’s in my aerobics class,” Clare told me while she fetched glasses and poured lemonade, “and we’ve been for a coffee a few times. So when she told me that she needs a place to stay while her landlord puts a new floor into her flat, I offered, of course. Here, honey!”

She bent over the counter and handed Rebecca a glass of lemonade. I noticed that the blouse she was wearing only had to bottom-most buttons closed, so she exposed a good deal of cleavage while she bent forward. A strange thought crossed my mind. Was she coming on to Rebecca?

“Uhm,” I said rather eloquently.

“Rebecca’s really nice,” she continued, “she’d even have been content to sleep on the couch. Of course, I would hear none of that.” There was a glint in her eyes when she said this.

A knot of dread formed in my tummy. “But then where…”

My ‘stepmom’ didn’t even let me finish the question. “Why, in your room, of course. Your bed’s large enough for two. Don’t tell me you never had a sleepover with a girl before?”

I harrumphed. “Of course I had. But you can’t just go inviting strangers to share my bed!”

“Rebecca’s no stranger!” she hissed back, and from the corner of my eyes, I could see the girl look down.

“Listen,” the girl interjected quietly, “the couch’s completely fine with me…”

“Balderdash, Miranda’s going to share with you, no discussions. Besides, I need the couch as I tend to watch TV quite late.”

My stomach sunk even further. I really, really wanted to scratch the bitch’s face and scream at her, but with a guest in the house, I just couldn’t. So I just forced a half-hearted sound of agreement out of my throat and admitted defeat.

“Why don’t you show Rebecca to your room and help her get her things up and settled, while I get ready for my next appointment?”

It wasn’t a question at all, and so I steeled myself and waved for Rebecca to follow me upstairs.

“It’s nice,” Rebecca said when we entered my room, and I was glad that I had tidied up the day before. Now that holidays were there, being able to put away all the school-related stuff had been a great motivation to do so.

“Thank you.”

“You play piano?” She gestured at the electronic piano that stood at the right-hand wall.

“Uh-uh. Just a bit, mind you, and only modern things.”

“You’ve got let me hear you play some day,” Rebecca said, sitting down on the bed and sighing. “Listen, Miranda.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I didn’t know that Clare hadn’t talked to you about it, or I’d never have…”

“It’s okay.” I quickly cut her off. “That just how she is. And we sometimes don’t get on that well…”

“I know.”

“You know?” My eyebrow went up.

“Clare told me a bit about you.”

“Did she?” The venom that dribbled into my voice was stronger than I had anticipated and made me want to retract my outburst, but she just sighed.

“Only that you and your stepmom often argue. But she also told me that you can be nice and funny.”

I couldn’t help myself. “Oh, and what else did she tell you?”

Rebecca’s voice grew a little quieter. “That you’re intelligent. And pretty.”

There was something a little unsettling in the sound of those words and my new roommate’s actions, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Feeling silly standing in the middle of the room while she sat on the bed, I plopped down on the other half and stretched out. “Really?”

“Really.”

She was worried and bit her lower lip, which made her actually appear rather endearing. There was a minute of silence, but I could see that her worry even increased with each second ticking by. Finally, the air seemed ripe for cutting and I caved in.

“Hey, Rebecca…”

“Becky. It’s just your stepmom who insists on calling me by my full name, though I’ve no idea why.”

“Okay, Becky.” There had been a little annoyance in her voice, which sparkled a feeling of companionship in me. Didn’t I know first-hand how aggravating Clare could be about names - or familial titles. “This is all just about me and her, and you shouldn’t have to worry about that. So let’s start fresh. Hi, I’m Miranda.” I held out my hand to her, and her smile lit up the room.

“Hi, I’m Becky. Thank you so much for letting me crash with you. I really had no idea where to spend the week until your stepmom invited me. You’re a lifesaver!”

Before I could say something, she had plopped over and caught me in a bone-crushing hug, lying halfway on top of me. “Really, thank you!”

At first, I felt startled and a little uncomfortable, but when she didn’t let go, I put my own arms around her and squeezed back. “You’re welcome, Becky!”

The next thing that happened took me completely by surprise. Suddenly, her lips pressed onto mine, just for a second, mind you, and then she jumped up, exclaiming, “I’ll go and carry up my things. Thank you, Miranda!”

While her feet pattered down the stairs, I lay there dizzily and brushed a finger over the spot on my lips, wondering where that tingling feeling had come from.

* * * *

In the evening, after I had shown Becky around the house, garden and surrounding neighborhood, we were rather famished. Clare, in a generous mood, had ordered Chinese, and we were lazing on the couches in the living room and trying not to make a mess with the chopsticks. The atmosphere was more relaxed than it had ever been when Clare and I were in the same room, and I started to consider Becky’s arrival a good thing.

We even watched a movie, all three of us perched next to each other on one couch, with Clare on the left, me on the right and Becky in between us. It was a romantic comedy - don’t ask me details though, as Clare allowed us red wine in ‘celebration’, and the second glass already had me rather tipsy. We laughed a lot, though.

So, when the movie ended, Becky and I giggled our way up the stairs, and when she slipped her hand into mine, it felt completely natural. We were still giggling while I rummaged in the wardrobe for one of the less childish pajamas when I heard the bed rustle, and when I looked around, I froze.

“Becky! What are you…” She was lounging on her side completely starkers, her full, perfectly rounded breasts not giving an inch to gravity, and I could see a tiny strip of trimmed hair above a set of full pussy lips.

“I always sleep in the nude,” she declared, “and when it’s hot like now, I can’t even stand a blanket. You don’t mind, do you?”

I blinked, the white pajama with the floral print almost slipping from my fingers.

“You know, you don’t have to dress up for bed either. I don’t want you to sweat on my behalf.”

“It’s not a problem,” I quickly assured her, but her answering look told me she didn’t buy it.

“I can’t imagine you’d be comfortable dressed that much. You don’t normally wear pajamas in the summer, do you?”

This time it was on me to bite my lip. The silence stretched. “No,” I finally admitted, “I normally only wear panties.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“It’s…” I stammered, and the thought of lying naked in bed with her brought back that strange tingle, almost making me lose track of my thoughts. “It’s not decent!” I hastily replied.

“So you’re saying I’m indecent?” If I hadn’t been so busy with my own strange feelings, I’d probably have noticed the wicked playfulness behind Becky’s affronted pout.

“Yes. No. I mean, it’s just…” My cheeks flushed.

“Oh come on, we’re both girls. Don’t be shy!”

There was something in her voice that reached straight into my core. With shaking hands, I put the pajama back into the wardrobe and closed the door. Then, I pulled the t-shirt over my head, expecting her to look away. She did no such thing.

If anything, her eyes grew more inquisitive. “Are you going to watch me?” I asked, unsnapping the bra clasp behind me.

“Yes.”

I couldn’t believe it. She was shamelessly ogling me and even admitting it. Yet, that strange tingling feeling was back with new force, and even as I asked, “Are you a…” and trailed off before the elephant in the room could become palpable, my hands pushed down the bra’s straps and let it tumble to the floor. I covered myself with one arm.

“Let me see!” she demanded, ignoring my question and answering at the same time, yet leaving me the option to pretend she hadn’t.

The tingle became stronger. My arm slowly lowered itself, and when her eyes met my modest breasts, I could feel my nipples stiffen and resonate with the tingling sensation. Becky’s face flushed, and I could clearly see hunger in her eyes. There was no ignoring the facts anymore. But these facts also included the tingles and breathless anticipation that grew stronger inside me with every second I felt her eyes on me.

“Your shorts,” she finally whispered, and when her lips stayed open in a pout of desire and the tip of her rosy tongue trailed over her lip, I felt a warm, moist, tickling feeling between my thighs.

My cheeks burned. I fumbled a little with the button, but it finally opened, and I impatiently pulled down the zipper.

“Slowly.”

My breathing sped up with each inch I guided the shorts down my legs. There was only one direction where this could be going. I wondered what her fingers and lips would feel on my skin. I felt incredibly naughty, and I’d never been as aroused before.

“You’re wet for me.” I looked down, and she was right. A dark splotch adorned the front of my red panties, undeniable proof of my feelings. My skin burned everywhere, but when I looked up, she had one hand between her thighs, her index and ring finger pulling her pussy lips apart and exposing glistening pink flesh, and her middle finger softly stroked her swelling button.

A little nod from her was all it took, and my panties slid down too. A moment of self-consciousness almost made me freeze when I realized that my bush was large and untidy in comparison with her almost hairless pussy with its neat strip.

The gleam of desire in her eyes reassured me, and her whispered, “You’re beautiful!” caressed me like a lover’s touch. I stepped out of the panties and just there, trembling like mad, excited, fearful and sweating.

“You’ve never done this before?” Becky inquired softly.

I shook my head. “Never.” My voice sounded raw.

“I’m glad. I can teach you so much.” She crooked her finger, beckoning me towards her waiting naked body, and I approached the bed on wooden legs.

“How…” I asked when my shins hit the mattress.

“Shush.” She put her finger on my lips, and where it touched, they tingled. “Just enjoy.”

A little later, I was on my back, my legs slightly spread, arms by my sides. Becky’s fingers trailed wickedly up my calves and thighs, only to stop an inch from my heated pussy and begin their approach anew. My breath started to fly and my hips lifted off the bed each time she came close to touch that churning heat.

“Please,” I whimpered, unable to stand the teasing torment anymore.

“Soon,” she replied, but instead of touching my pussy, she lifted my hand to her lips and wrapped those around my index finger.

I hadn’t thought that a touch like this could be so erotic. Yet it was. When her warm, moist lips touched my skin and her tongue started to caress my digit, I almost came from the sheer pleasure. My whimpers turned into moans.

“My,” she whispered into my ear while she left a burning trail of pleasure in the wake of the fingernails that trailed up my arm, “you’re quite a needy one!”

When her fingers tapped my lips, I knew what to do, and I made love to the two fingers she gently pushed inside. I stroked my tongue all around and between them, licked the hints of sweat and peach soap from them and reveled in the softness of her skin.

It took only a soft touch on my clit to send my desire through the roof. All my muscles tensed while the heat between my legs intensified to almost unbearable proportions, and the small, muffled whimpers that left my mouth around her fingers sounded like they came from far, far away. My skin started to burn and small tremors raced through my pussy.

Soft, wet, hot lips wrapped around my nipple and her tongue slid over its tip, tipping me over the brink. My body lifted off the sheets and started to twitch and shake while my mind was flooded with a pleasure so intense that, for a moment, I thought I might faint.

But that thought was flushed away by the intensity of my climax, and when wave after wave of pleasure crashed down on me while Becky’s slick finger flicked my clit and her lovely lips sucked on my breast, I lost myself in the incredible climax of my first lesbian lovemaking.

* * * *

We both arrived on the breakfast table still half asleep after making love almost until dawn. We had caressed, kissed and licked each other time and time again, and each time I had thought things couldn’t get more intense, Becky had introduced a new trick into our lovemaking. I was sore between my legs, my jaw ached and...