The characters portrayed in this story are just that, characters in my story. Any similarities to real people are purely coincidental and unintentional. The characters and situations portrayed are pure fantasy; the author is keen to state that in reality adult sexuality should remain only in the adult world. Please do not allow or cause this story to fall in to the hands of minors.
Lalo sighed, her heart sank, and she wondered if she would ever understand her longing for the west. What was it that called to her? Was it the southern tip of Ireland, the Scilly Isles? Whatever it was the pull was strong, strong and dark.
An involuntary shiver ran down her supple spine. Tears stung at her young eyes - she must keep this to herself, mum for one would never understand. Lalo remembered the countless arguments her restlessness had caused over the years. Why wouldn't her mum let her travel? Just what was her problem?
A deep sigh racked Lalo's young frame, and frowning she turned her back on the lapping sea. She began her long trudge up the cliff. Her face brightened; she had remembered that her dad would be back tonight. Things were always happier when he was there, and the small family was complete.
---
Maldea worked industriously cleaning every inch of her beloved kitchen. As she scrubbed she hummed a simple lullaby from her childhood. She was happy; soon Jeff would be home and the weekend could begin in earnest. Maldea heard the door slam, followed by the TV resonating from the living room.
"Hi honey, is that you?" Maldea called out.
"Nope mum, it's me," Lalo shouted back.
"Hi, have a good day at school?"
"Oh you know, nothing special!" Lalo paused, "What's for tea?"
"Pasta with a fresh Bolognese sauce," Maldea shouted over the increasing din of MTV.
"K, I'm gonna shower in a minute - if I have time?" Lalo asked.
"No problemo, plenty of time - 45 minutes or so."
The conversation petered out, and Maldea started to prepare the vegetables. Just as her knife reached the ripe skin of the first tomato, her heart froze. Icy hands gripped her spine, as her ears heard a long forgotten song. She swung away from the work surface, and almost ran into the living room. In front of her daughter the female band cavorted on the screen, in a display of wanton flesh. Maldea tore the remote out of Lalo's hand and switched off the TV, disgust written all over her pretty face.
"Hey I was watching that!" Lalo protested.
"You are too young to be interested in that!" Maldea almost spat her words.
"True, the Bitches are more your era than mine, but I do know about that stuff - and it doesn't interest me!"
"What stuff, come on what stuff!" Maldea demanded.
"You know, lesbianism - they talk about it in PSE at school, I think Cath Hebbert may be one..."
"It's not about that - it's about them," Maldea's voice calmed a little.
"Bullshit! You are just a homophobe," Lalo shouted, she immediately gulped.
Maldea exploded.
"How dare you speak to me that way, you are not with your friends now, young lady!" Maldea paused for effect. "I'm grounding you this weekend."
"That's great, I wouldn't want to go anywhere around here anyway - the only place I want to go is New York!"
"Never, I have told you - NEVER!" Maldea sucked in her breath.
"Why? It's where you and dad come from, where I was born - why not?" Lalo asked, tears of frustration rolling down her face.
"You wouldn't understand - you can never know. I have to protect you," Maldea raged.
"Well a bit of New York is coming here, Les Bitches are doing a European tour," Lalo paused, "And I'm going to see them at Bristol."
"You are not! Who gave you that idea?" Maldea paused to wipe the sweat from her brow. "Over my dead body!"
"Fine!" screamed Lalo, as she raced to the stairs, "Just fine!"
Maldea stood alone, fuming.
"Shit!"
---
Jeff positioned the car carefully on the rutted driveway; slowly but accurately he guided it down a hundred yards of steep incline. Finally he relaxed as the Beamer slid into the garage.
'Home at last, god why do we live somewhere this remote?' Jeff wondered, `Is there still a need?'
He flipped down the garage door with a resounding clunk, then all was still - just the slow lapping of the sea at the base of the cliff. Jeff stood listening for a long recuperative second.
'There are compensations, I can still hear the Atlantic when I need it most' he thought, as a smile played on his weary face.
"Hi Maldea, Lalo - I'm home!" Jeff called, stepping through the threshold.
Maldea rushed up and pecked his sallow cheek, greeting him.
"God am I glad to see you,"
"Hey, what's up?" Jeff queried.
"Later, just get a drink and relax, dinner is in five minutes" Maldea grinned.
Jeff shrugged and walked off to the drinks cabinet. He pulled out his favourite bourbon and poured a liberal shot; something told him he was going to need it!
Dinner passed in the uneasy politeness that told Jeff where the problem lay. It was all too obvious that Maldea and Lalo had fallen out; was he to play referee yet again? When the meal ended, Lalo made what seemed like a tactical withdrawal.
"Night dad, mum - see you in the morning."
"Niters La La, sleep well," Jeff cooed at his daughter.
Lalo smiled, and touched Jeff once on the shoulder, then she was gone.
"You are not going to believe this," Maldea started, "Do you know what she wants to do now?"
Half way to the drinks cabinet Jeff paused.
"Do you want one too?" he asked quietly.
"Yes, please honey, vodka and tonic - make it a large one!"
Jeff settled into the sofa, wrapped a supportive arm around Maldea and waited. Over the next half hour he listened to the sorry tale without comment.
Finally he spoke.
"Think about it, Maldea, that has to be wrong. They have never left the US. How can they make a transatlantic flight? They could only send day walkers..."
Jeff felt Maldea stiffen in his arms.
"Unless," she stuttered, "Unless, they can day walk!"
"Christ! Surely not?" Fear echoed in Jeff's deep tones.
Jeff retrieved the remote, and switched on the TV - he fumbled through the unfamiliar pages of text.
"Let me," Maldea laughed, "You never have got the hang of tele-text"
The news page appeared seconds later, and together they scanned the headlines. There it was, item 5 page 307: 'All female rock band announce UK dates.' Maldea's fingers flew over the keypad and the page popped up.
'US rock phenomenon Les Bitches are to visit Europe for the first time in their 15 year history. The UK tour starts next month, venues include...'
Maldea switched off the TV; tears welled up in her eyes.
"They can day walk, Jeff, they are coming for us!"
Jeff tightened his hold on his quaking wife.
"They will never find us here, come on - in a month it'll all be over!"
Maldea sobbed long and low, shuddering against Jeff's solid chest. Jeff just held her, waiting for her fear to subside. His face was blanched, and his eyes held a haunted expression.
'Had Maldea been right? All those years ago - should they have gone back, finished it? She had seemed so certain, so brave. Running had been his idea...' doubts poured through Jeff's troubled mind.
---
As she mounted the steps onto the bus Lalo marvelled at how fast her weekend had skipped by. After a shaky start it hadn't turned out so badly, she had enjoyed the long days on the beach - slowly browning in the late August sunshine. She walked swiftly down the cramped aisle, and went to sit down beside Darren.
"Not today, Lalo, the seat's reserved... Sorry." Darren grinned up at her impishly.
The bus shuddered and lurched forward sending Lalo sprawling onto the empty rear seat. She wriggled, making herself comfortable - without drawing any more unwanted glances than she already had.
A few hundred yards later the brakes screeched, and the bus opened its doors to the flood of children from Tintagel. As usual her friend Cath was there, as was that bitch Rachael. Cath plonked herself down beside Lalo with her customary greeting.
"Hiya mate!"
Lalo was too sullen to reply, her eyes were fixed on Rachael. Her rival, her nemesis - had sat down, beside Darren! Lalo felt her face flush hot with unrestrained hurt. She stared at the girl's blonde curls with contempt, then watched in anguish as Rachael took Darren's right hand and shifted it to her lap. Lalo felt the colour drain back out of her, as she followed the ripple of Rachael's crouched shoulders.
'They can't be, not on the bus!' Lalo's thoughts crowded around her.
Suddenly Rachael stiffened in her seat. Immediately Darren pulled up his hand and stuffed it triumphantly under the nose of Dave Turner, sat just one seat in front of him.
"Told you, told you I could, and before we are half way to Camelford!" Darren giggled.
"Big deal, she'd come for anyone..." Dave grunted.
"Oh, jealous are we, Dave - never mind..." Darren dissolved into laughter, which was abruptly stopped by a sharp dig in the ribs from Rachael's left elbow.
"Boys, only one thing they care about... Morons," whispered Cath to Lalo.
Lalo turned away hiding her tears, and stared into the passing greenery all the way to the outskirts of the town. Silently Lalo watched the others rush to get off at the gates of Sir James's. To her horror she witnessed Rachael pull her sticky gusset away from her crotch, as she waddled up the bus. Lalo's heart sank.
"I hate boys," she breathed to no one in particular.
Cath snuck her hand briefly into Lalo's.
"Me too, me too," she mouthed.
The morning and lunch passed in a mire of boredom, until they spilt out onto the playground. For the girls there was only one topic of conversation.
"So are you really going, Suze?" asked a breathy Caroline.
"Yep! My mum said I could, dad's getting the tickets today - on the internet..." Suze replied, smiling.
"Wicked!" replied an impressed Caroline.
"Don't know why you want to go, they're a bunch of has beens - so 1990's" sneered Rachael.
"Leave her be, you always have to know best don't you?" Lalo warned a shocked Rachael.
"Oh, got a tongue have we, well why don't you go use it on your little lezzy friend. She needs it much more than me!" Rachael spat.
The group dissolved into howls of laughter, leaving Lalo red faced for the second time that day.
Lalo seethed inside.
'You will regret that, Rachael, you will regret that - today!'
---
The afternoon session began with English, Lalo's favourite, not due to any particular love of language; her crush on Dick Dreyfuss, the English teacher, had more to do with it.
"OK class, Shakespeare guides out Macbeth four, you all know your parts," Dick's clear authoritative voice rang out.
Lalo winced, Shakespeare - not her favourite, and she had no part; just an understudy. She sulked a little, and as the lesson progressed her mind wandered to...
Revenge, if she concentrated - perhaps she could still do it. Her 'party trick', she bowed head slightly and narrowed her eyes. Her mind focussed on Rachael, if she could just bring those feelings back.
Rachael concentrated upon the play unfolding around her, her part was coming soon. She shifted her weight on the plastic chair and felt her body squelch against its hardiness. She thrust her hand down to the front of her panties in panic.
'I can't have come on, I'm not due for a week' she wondered desperately.
The fingers that returned were wet, but not with the expected redness. Just clear juice, Rachael smiled slyly, and furtively licked a delicious finger, then she slid her hand back under her desk. Furiously Rachael pretended to make notes in her textbook with her right hand, while her left busied itself in the soft folds of her wrinkled, damp labia.
Images flooded into her young mind, not of the normal boy bands, but hot inviting flashes of a writhing female rock band. Her mind's eye feasted on the leather, the expanses of soft cleavage, and the darkly inviting valleys between their gyrating thighs. Her thumb located her slickly swollen bud, a few more strokes and...
"Miss Savage, Miss Savage, are you with us today?" Dick's voice boomed through the classroom.
Rachael visibly jumped, scattering her books to the floor, quickly she retrieved the guide, and scrambled through it for her lines.
"Page 12 Macbeth VI, i, 44 'By the pricking of my thumbs'," Mr Dreyfuss prompted.
Rachael scanned the page frantically, but it was no use. The words just seemed to jumble themselves up, dancing around and teasing her pleading eyes. Suddenly the words cleared, and in relief she read parrot-like from the shaking page.
"Ahem, By the pricking of my thumbs, I want to lick Cath until she comes!" Rachael's face fell as the final word left her lips.
For a second the room was hushed, then catcalls, laughter, and whistles broke the silence. With a glance Dick quietened the bedlam, and in two long steps he was by the mortified girls side.
"Straight to the head!" Dick paused, and picked up Rachael's English book, "And take this obscenity with you!"
Mr Dreyfuss held the tattered book by its corner, just as if he was handling high explosives. Through tearful eyes Rachael saw the familiar blue cover, adorned as it now was by a rudimentary, but accurate, drawing of a girl's sex. Rachael gurgled something unintelligible before grabbing the book and scurrying from the hostile classroom.
"Quieten down, the show's over!" Mr Dreyfuss barked, "Now who is the understudy?"
"Good, Lalo now read the text from Rachael's book, so we may all hear the Bard's intended version."
Lalo smiled broadly, stood and delivered the piece to the class, perfectly.
"By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes!"
Warm receptive openings clung to the uniting shaft, and ragged breaths rent the still air. An eruption of cries rose from the throats of the lovers, who peaked, and then the sound stilled to gentle murmuring. Finally - one exhausted woman rolled off the other.
"Well?"
A tall Germanic woman who had appeared beside the sweat soaked dais spoke the impatient word.
"Nothing..." Jolene panted, "Nothing at all,"
In a practiced motion, Jolene slid the flexible dildo from her body, and turned her gaze on her spent lover.
"Manda, are you OK? Manda!" Jolene's voice raised a pitch.
Jolene shook Manda's lax shoulder, trying to rouse her.
"No! No, Jolene - she's entranced, leave her..." Margit boomed.
Despite her concern, Jolene reacted instinctively to the command, snapping her hand away from her sister's sweet skin.
"Manda, listen to me. What do you see? What do you feel?" Margit asked.
Manda only twitched, sighed and smiled. Then in a fluid motion, she curled herself into a foetal ball, her full lips peeled back, and emitted an eerie hum. The volume of the sound increased until it bit at the eardrums of the assembled. The sound peaked, and Manda broke into a singsong voice.
"Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble" Manda sang.
"Sheeit, what the hell's that?" Jolene asked, rhetorically.
"That, m'dear is Shakespeare," Alison proudly announced.
"I know that - fool. But why is she saying it?" Jolene growled.
Further conversation was cut short; all eyes were drawn back to Manda. Her body straightened itself violently, and flew into the throes of a full-blown seizure. Agonisingly she shuddered and contorted on the small platform. Margit moved quickly, threading her arms through Jolene's; she held the frightened black girl firmly, rooting her to the spot.
"She'll be fine; Manda will be back with us all very soon," whispered Margit.
Finally the wicked contractions of Manda's body stilled. Seconds later, she sat up smiling.
"The power has been used. A route to the orphan has been gifted to us!"
Lascivious laughter filled the darkened cellar.
---
Rachael sat alone in her bedroom, thumbing through the latest copy of 'Glamour', bored out of her senses. When she reached the fashion pages, her attention was caught by a stunning leather creation. It was sensuously draped across a smouldering model; immediate images danced in her mind. Unconsciously, her mind slipped the neckline a little lower revealing a crinkled nub, Rachael groaned and smacked the pages shut.
Tears misted her vision.
'What's wrong with me, why am I so...'
She flopped onto her bed, burying her face deeply in the pillow. Long sobs wracked her young frame; as she fell into her private hell.
'I'm not gay! I know I'm not, Darren knows I'm not. It's just not true' Rachael's despair thundered back into her mind.
"Rachael, Rachael, it's time to go!" her mother shouted up the stairs.
"I'm not going!" Rachael yelled back.
"Yes, you are, my girl, this is important."
Rachael stomped from her room and down the stairs. She avoided her mother's gaze, and stood with her head hung. Idly she kicked the wall with her heel, moody to the last.
"Come on Rach, car now! Let's just get this over." her mother said, frowning at her youngest daughter.
The car journey proceeded in stony silence, eventually Susan tried once more.
"Look Rach, if this man gives you the all clear, you can go back to school tomorrow."
"Great, back to all the teasing, give up mum - you don't understand!" Rachael murmured.
"Darren will be there..." said mum.
Yeah, if he will still speak to me. He might not want to talk to a..." Rachael's voice tailed off.
Susan shifted down a gear, and pulled up on the hard-standing outside the surgery. She got out, stared for a moment at her seated daughter, and then walked to the passenger door. Susan swung the door wide open.
"Out, come on, just a chat with a doctor - that's all it is."
Unwillingly, Rachael left the security of the car, and slunk towards the door. Behind her, Susan locked the car, sighed and then followed Rachael into the surgery.
'I wonder which of us is the most nervous. Rachael's right, I don't understand, not at all,' Susan thought.
The doctor looked up briefly from his desk; he motioned Susan and Rachael to sit down. For what seemed like an age he flicked through the pages of a closely typed report. Eventually he removed his half-moon glasses, used them to quickly scratch his nose, and spoke.
"So Rachael, how are we?" he asked.
"Wonderful, what do you think!" Rachael snorted.
"Yes, I can imagine."
"Mrs Savage, it may be easier for me to talk with Rachael alone. Just for a short while." The doctor raised a bushy eyebrow.
"Anything you want to ask Rach, you can ask in front of me. We have no secrets," replied Susan.
"Ah, but Rachael is a young woman. I would like to respect her privacy." The doctor smiled.
"No way, I stay!" Susan glared.
"As you wish, of course. Rachael, I'm Dr Fazakerly, Justin, if you prefer. I specialise in counselling teenagers, helping them. I'd like to help you Rachael, or is it Rach?" Fazakerly beamed.
"Rachael to you, Justin," smirked Rachael.
"Good Rachael, so how long have you been sexually active?" Fazakerly asked.
"Sexually..." Susan choked on the word.
Fazakerly said nothing; he just calmly raised his forefinger to his lips. Rachael blushed deeply.
"Well I have snogged - once or twice. Is that what you mean?" Rachael replied.
"Not entirely, your file would suggest a little more than snogging," Fazakerly commented.
"I may have fooled around a bit, who's been grassing?" Rachael asked.
"In this 'fooling around' have you had full intercourse?" Fazakerly queried.
"No! I haven't. Mum I haven't, honest" Rachael paled.
"It's all right, Rachael I believe you. Tell me though, when did you start 'fooling around'?" Fazakerly smiled.
"'bout three years ago, I s'pose," replied Rachael.
"So 11 then," Fazakerly noted her response.
"11!" Susan gasped.
"Not uncommon, Mrs Savage, not uncommon at all. Tell me, in your own words Rachael, what happened the other day?"
"Well I was waiting to read, and I got turned on - real hot. So I..." Rachael's words faltered, she glanced at her mother, "I felt myself up, then when I had to speak, the words changed. They changed, I just read what they said - and then all hell happened… I left."
"These feelings, the 'hot turn on' was it from you?" The doctor queried, sitting forward slightly.
"No, they came from somewhere else, like the words, Justin. How did you know?" Rachael asked, frowning.
"Just a guess, Rachael, nothing more. Look, I don't think there is anything to worry about. Just pop outside and take a seat, I need a quick chat with your mum."
Justin waited for the door to close, but before he could say a word Susan interjected.
"What's wrong with her, Doctor is it serious?" She asked.
"It could be nothing, but I am a little concerned, I think I should refer Rachael to our Psychosexual Counsellor," Fazakerly replied.
"So it's not schizophrenia?" Susan relaxed.
"Schizophrenia, why would you ask that?" the doctor quizzed.
"My Aunt had it, she died in a sanatorium," Susan answered.
"Did she?" Fazakerly scribbled some hurried notes, "Possible, but very unlikely, I think it's just an overactive sex drive, same sex attraction and crushes are common in all adolescents."
"So she can go back to school?"
"Once the counsellor has had a chat, I can't see why not. I really can't," Fazakerly replied.
---
Eloise wandered down the stairs to join the others.
"Are you sure about this, Margit? I mean, I'm always ready for a group session, but are you sure this will work?"
"Yes I am sure, you heard what Manda told us. This wounded girl is our route to the orphan," Margit replied, pointedly.
"There's no need to snap, Margit! I am a scientist; I don't quite share your enthusiasm for the psychic world," Eloise said.
"Oh, science I see. So in what scientific category do you place vampires?" Margit asked sweetly.
"Point taken," Eloise blushed.
"Manda, tell me, which of us does the girl fantasise about the most?"
"Anna, it's Anna that turns her on" Manda replied, "it's those nipples, they are still so damn sexy."
"Ahzo, Anna was your first as well, yes Manda," Margit grinned.
"She was," Manda replied, dreamily.
"Anna, come to our centre - we will commune through you."
Anna lay down on the dais, proudly pushing up her upturned breasts out as far as they would go. Her nipple tips hardened, and jutted wickedly from the puffy tissue under them. As she waited, the others clustered around her expectant, aching body. Sylvie crouched and tenderly encased Anna's left nipple with her own hungry mouth. An enthusiastic Pamela similarly nuzzled Anna's right breast.
Margit fell to her knees between the wide stretched thighs and extended her tongue to lap the petals of Anna's sex. Above the fuzz of blonde curls, Margit watched as Macy lowered her dripping snatch onto Anna's pursed lips.
Anna sank her fingers into the sopping slits. By touch alone, she knew which belonged to Alison and which to Eloise. Her toes were unable to repeat that feat; nonetheless they luxuriated in the fluid channels of the servant sisters. Anna was enclosed in femininity, bathed in sexual delirium. Her senses flooded; she slid into a delicious trance, oblivious to the gasps and soft fondling surrounding her.
The transmission began.
Rachael sat wallowing in her own private misery, bored mindless; she looked around the sparse reception. Inwardly she sneered at the magazines sprawled on the coffee table top, and looked past the spray of plastic flowers. Her eyes came to rest on the reception desk, and then on the receptionist.
The girl was quite attractive, even if her clothes were a travesty of taste. That cardigan should go; it hid her figure, her hair - well, if she let down that formal bun, and conditioned it a bit more, would be passable.
Idly, her eyes wandered down the visible part of the girl's body.
'I wonder what her tits are like,' thought Rachael.
Instantly an image formed in her mind. Small, sculpted mounds tipped with puffy teats danced before her. Rachael swallowed hard, trying to push the knot of excitement away.
'Not now, oh god! Not now.' Rachael's mind raced.
She fought the desire to reach down and scratch the insistent itch. She shifted uncomfortably on the wooden bench. The desire grew, her distracted mind searched for some way to relieve the lust discreetly. She was in full view of the receptionist, and anyone walking in unexpectedly, it was hopeless.
Moaning softly, Rachael crossed her legs; a jet of desire hit her as the seam of her jeans slid over her mound. Experimentally, she swung her upper leg; another frisson of excitement hit her. Relaxing, she let her muscles stimulate herself, and slowly her eyes narrowed. The dingy room disappeared, to be replaced totally by the gorgeous breasts; soft lips teased the stiff nipples, straining their plump succulence. Rachael's pulse thumped in her ears, drumming at an ever-increasing tempo. She felt her clitoris expand to nudge against the resistant seam.
"Miss Savage, Miss Savage! The doctor is ready for you now," the receptionist called her.
Her face was close enough for Rachael to kiss. It took a supreme effort not to reach out with her lips. The orgasm danced between her thighs waiting for one more deliberate swing of her leg. Rachael swung her leg, and breathed a lusty lungful of air directly into the receptionists surprised face. Embarrassed, she vaulted from the reception area; back to the relative safety of the doctor's office.
Ensconced in Justin's room, Rachael only half listened to his drawn-out explanation. She said little, and added even less. Her only reaction was to baulk at the idea of having to see another counsellor. When she realised there was no other option, her hand sought the comfort of her mother's. The slight squeeze reassured Rachael, and she relaxed visibly and crossed her legs.
Dr Fazakerly fumbled through the contents of a half opened drawer. Carefully he selected a range of brochures, some for Rachael, and a few for Susan. Justin swivelled his chair back to look at his patients; Susan smiled back brightly. In contrast, Rachael looked positively doped - her eyes were half closed. She sat motionless, apart from her pendulum-like right foot. Justin cleared his throat noisily.
"Ahem, Rachael, I need you to read through these before your visit to Dr Kemp. Fill in the questionnaires, as honestly as you can, do you understand?
"Mmmmm, Un-huh." Rachael grunted.
"Good! Susan, these are for you. In addition, I'd like you to keep the diary notes we discussed." Justin smiled.
He reached forward to pass the handful of leaflets to Susan. They were sent spinning from his hand to litter the office floor. Rachael had pulled her fingers free of her mother's hand, and thrust them up her mother's skirt. Susan jumped at the sudden rude contact, and simultaneously, Rachael stiffened. The teenager screamed, her pleasure was transparent to them all. Rachael buckled over, twitching as wave after wave of impure passion burst through her.
Thousands of miles away, Anna ran her flexing tongue around her encrusted lips. She could taste it, even more than the pungent flavour of Macy's cunt. She could taste, no, savour her slave's multiple climax. The link was complete.
"I tell you she's weird, did you see the way she eyed up Rach that day?" asked Caroline.
"What are you saying? That Lalo did something to her? How? I mean just how?" said Suze.
"I don't know, but she's odd - you know spooky," Caroline replied.
"So should we sort her? I mean, after what's happened to Rach now? The bitch deserves it!" Suze snapped.
"I have a plan, but I need to talk to someone first. She will pay..." Caroline muttered.
The screech of the bus braking drowned out all the chatter. Cath rushed onto the bus. She gazed along the aisle, Lalo was sitting beside Darren. Without hesitation, Cath walked up and interrupted their conversation.
"I need your advice Lalo, can you spare me a bit of time?" Cath asked, motioning to the empty back seats with a twitch of her head.
"'scuse me Darren," Lalo said, before following her friend to the rear of the stationary bus.
Cath snuggled up to Lalo, and waited to speak, until the roar of the bus starting almost covered her hushed words.
"Watch out for Caroline, she and Suze are planning something. They're crazy, do you know they are blaming you for what happened to that weirdo, Rachael."
"Maybe they are right!" Lalo whispered.
Cath turned to look at her friend, Lalo quickly moved her head, but Cath saw the glistening tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. Lalo stiffened against Cath's supportive arm.
"You can't believe that, it's crazy!" Cath gasped, "Lalo, she did what she did alone, and none of it was your fault."
Lalo turned her head back, and stifled a sniffle - her red eyes looked directly into Cath's.
"You don't know what I'm capable of - I'm not, not - normal." Lalo sighed.
"You are more normal than me, mate, come on, cheer up. I'm here for you," Cath smiled.
"Thanks," murmured Lalo.
Cath sat comforting Lalo all the way to school. Their bond of friendship grew stronger in the shared silence. The two outcasts were set against the world.
---
The day dragged along slowly and try as she might, Cath couldn't get Lalo and her plight out of her mind. She felt a special closeness to Lalo, and it was growing, changing into something else. Was this love, or just another crush? It felt real, but could she really have these deep feelings for another girl? The others had always teased her, but until now she had laughed it off. She wasn't laughing now; she was scared of her feelings -and what they could mean.
Cath felt another more familiar desire building up; she knew she would have to deal with it soon. This time she would need to find somewhere more secure than the loos. She had almost been caught in the middle of it last time.
'God, I shouldn't do it again. I know it's wrong, mum would be furious if she knew.'
The feeling grew, its strength increasing in line with her panic. Cath's hands started to tremble, she knew all was lost. The bell interrupted her deep self-pity. She stood, and made her way to the classroom door, immediately Lalo stopped her.
"How do you fancy sharing lunch? We can chat, and..." Lalo was cut short.
"I can't, I'm... I just can't! Sorry," Cath blurted out the words.
Ignoring the confused look on Lalo's face, Cath dashed to the door. She had needs of her own that she had to control. Soon she was outside the school; her pace quickening, carrying her away from the busy playground.
She slipped into the shadows, and found her way to the back of the school kitchens. Once hidden, in a dark doorway, Cath began her sordid ritual; her frustrated hands tore at her clothes. Soon bare unprotected flesh was exposed, and she slid her hand into the breast pocket of her school uniform.
Her nimble fingers grasped the object of her desire firmly. She calmly toyed with it. In a flash it was done, her face screwed up in a mixture of relief and pain. Her left hand hung by her side, dark droplets of blood dripping from her fingers. A fresh cut graced her scarred arm, ripe and red it gaped, smiling at the bottom of a ladder of previous scars.
The teenager sobbed, howling her disgust of herself to the universe. The wet razor blade was still tightly clenched between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand.
She was wounded in her heart and soul, but relief soon followed as she bled away her sins. Cath pulled herself together, and flicked the blade back into her pocket. She applied her clean hanky over the seeping wound and tied it off with her teeth. Carefully she rolled her blouse sleeve back down, buttoned the cuff, and smiled.
Once again her shame was hidden, and her sins atoned for. She walked confidently away from the kitchen, and skirted the fence by Dark Lane. She made her way to the toilets; soon there would be no evidence. As she turned the corner, the cheerful hum died on her lips. Cath froze not believing, and not wanting to believe, her eyes.
Lalo was standing with her back against the pebble-dash wall. Darren was in front of her, his right hand buried deep inside Lalo's school blouse. Darren sneered, and thrust his other hand roughly under the hem of Lalo's skirt. Lalo writhed against Darren's double assault. Cath moved - she was just about to leave when she heard the panic in Lalo's voice.
"Darren, please, please stop! Don't, even I don't touch myself there. Darren - let go! It's not safe," Lalo pleaded.
"I want you to prove you're not what they say you are! Show me you want it," ordered Darren.
Darren's hands moved even more frantically over Lalo's unwilling body. Cath could see a dark nipple, standing proud as he groped Lalo's small breast. Her eyes drank in the voyeuristic glimpse, Cath's pulse raced. She was torn, her mind told her to rescue her friend; but the dark desire held her entranced, it was so good to watch.
Lalo's head swung back; Darren's fingers had found their mark. She recoiled from his heavy touch. Her hands reached up to push him back, but Darren shifted his position. His hands flew up to Lalo's shoulders, and mercilessly he forced her down. Soon Lalo was on her knees, trembling with fear. Darren lunged forwards, driving the tented front of his trousers into Lalo's face. Cath watched in horror as he started to unzip his fly.
Before Cath's startled eyes, Darren was suddenly launched off his feet. The surprised boy dangled in mid air, and then crashed to the ground, falling in a crumpled heap. In seconds, he sprang to his feet and ran towards Lalo. When he was no more than an arm's length away from her, he once again shot upwards, flipped in mid air, and landed flat on his back. Cath heard the air rush from his lungs, he gurgled. She watched as he scrambled back up onto his feet. Darren cast a terrified look back at Lalo, and fled.
Cath ran up to her friend, who was busily covering up her exposed body.
"Lalo, are you OK?" Cath puffed.
"Fine, thanks - just fine." Lalo replied.
"What happened? Did you?" Cath asked.
"Yes, that was me. I'm a monster!" Lalo sobbed, through sheets of tears.
"No you're not, you were just protecting yourself,"
"Then yes, but I attacked Rachael; this is entirely my fault!" Lalo wailed.
"Come on, it's OK. I'll look after you."
Cath sighed, as Lalo fell forward into her welcoming arms.
---
Maldea dried the last of the plates, and stacked it carefully in the cupboard. She heard the front door slam shut; despite her annoyance she checked her anger. Lalo hadn't been herself for days; it wasn't the time for shouting.
"Lalo, hi, dad rang, he's going to be caught up in Newcastle for a few days. So it's just us!" Maldea called.
"Not quite mum, come in here. I have someone I'd like you to meet."
Maldea dried her hands, and threw the tea towel onto the work surface. She walked into the living room. Lalo stood there, hand-in-hand with a nervous looking girl. She was a good six inches taller than Lalo, with shoulder length auburn hair. She was pale, with a chiselled Gaelic bone structure; willowy but striking.
"Mum this is Cath, my best friend."
"Hi Cath, and welcome. I'm Maldea, are you thirsty or hungry?"
"No, I'm fine Mrs Contadino, thank you." Cath answered, shyly.
"Maldea, please. But you will stay for some tea?"
"Go on Cath, it'll be good - mum's a great cook." Lalo grinned.
"If you don't mind, thanks, I will." Cath smiled.
"Of course not, you two girls go and chat, tea will be about an hour," Maldea beamed.
Lalo led Cath to the stairs.
"I've got some great CD's, come on!" said Lalo.
Maldea watched the pair shoot up the stairs, smiling at their enthusiasm. Soon Maldea was immersed in her cooking, so happy that Lalo had found someone she could relate to. Maldea pressed down on the blender and watched as the vegetables disintegrated to form the fresh pesto. Tomato and Basil was Lalo's favourite, and tonight the meal would be special, in honour of her friend Cath.
The name dredged up a memory, what was it Lalo had said about her? It was before that stupid argument. Why was this troubling her? Maldea went cold.
'You know, lesbianism - they talk about it in PSE at school, I think Cath Hebbert may be one...'
Was this the girl that had talked Lalo into wanting to see 'Les Bitches'? Maldea walked quietly into the living room. The sound of music drifted down the stairs.
'Wanna fly to a place where it's just you and me Nobody else so we can be free
All the things she said All the things she said Running through my head Running through my head Running through my head'
Maldea sighed with relief, it wasn't a Bitches number. All that panic for nothing. Anyway lots of teenage girls thought they were gay, she remembered her innocent crush on Sister Grace at the convent school. Yes, she must try to relax, not over-react. Jeff had been right about that as well.
She returned to the kitchen, and continued cooking. For some insane reason the catchy lyrics ran through her head, over and over again. That verse, damn, it seemed almost addictive.
'All the things she said All the things she said Running through my head Running through my head Running through my head'
She giggled at her own thoughts, man, she was getting weirder by the day! Busy minutes passed, and finally Maldea dished up the steaming pasta.
"Lalo, Cath, it's ready," she called.
No response.
"Lalo! Tea!" Maldea shouted.
No response.
"Come on Lalo, It'll get cold!" She bawled.
No response.
'No one gets cold pasta in my house' Maldea thought.
Dutifully she plodded upstairs with the two steaming plates. Maldea pushed down the door handle with her elbow, and leant against the door with her bottom. Silently the door swung open, and Maldea turned into Lalo's bedroom. She stopped dead, mouth agape - Maldea stood rigidly still, almost a waxworks copy of a shocked waitress.
A small naked figure lay stretched out on the duvet. Eyes closed, moving her body rhythmically, undulating with pleasure. Lalo's nipples jutted proudly from the soft swell of her flattened breasts, tweaked to erection by her attentive fingers. Her smooth abdomen contracting with pleasure, slowly grinding her glistening slit against Cath's active tongue. Maldea saw the dark hairs surrounding her daughter's sex stir, as the rotating tongue circled in broad sweeps. The ancient passion, so long forgotten, flooded Maldea's senses. Silently, almost dream-like, she turned and bent down, placing the plates outside the bedroom door; they were unimportant now.
Maldea straightened herself, and turned back to observe the unfolding passionate drama played out before her. Cath's mop of auburn hair swishing over Lalo's dark, twitching thighs. Cath's pale hands rummaged under her open school blouse, and freed a pink tipped breast. Maldea marvelled at the contrast between the savagely erect pink bud, and the creamy perfection of the exposed breast. Fascinated, she watched as Cath's right hand slid down her body and under the waistband of the pleated school skirt.
Hypnotically, and unconsciously, Maldea's own hands traced the same route down her tee-shirt. Her fingers unbuckled the restrictive belt, and then burrowed under the front of her jeans. The stud on her jeans popped, and the zip slid down, giving her access to the treasure she unknowingly sought. Maldea's eyes narrowed, squinting intensely at the passionate scene before her. She bucked against her fingers, writhing with the familiar pleasure; it was the only thing kept her sane when Jeff was away. With practiced ease, her left hand flattened and pulled up her hairless mound, her fluid fingers dancing over the fat bud they sought.
Her eyes filled with tears of frustration, it had been so long, too long. Maldea quivered on the edge of release, her mind plundered the memories of her sisters' bodies and flavours. She watched as Cath's hand blurred, the girl was reaching her crescendo. Her ears drank in the crashing cries of both Lalo and Cath. It was enough, Maldea grunted quietly, holding back her own intense climax.
Slowly Maldea's eyes refocused and she watched Cath crawl up her daughter's body. Lalo blinked, and then extended her long tongue; soon her ecstatic face was hidden. The grey folds of Cath's skirt obscured the upper part of Lalo's flexing torso. She watched as her daughter reached down with both hands to caress her flowing vulva. One hand held her mound flat, and allowed Lalo's slim fingers to polish the stiff organ that projected through the open wrinkled lips. Maldea sighed, and watching a carbon copy of her own technique, she started to masturbate once more.
So lost in her solitary pleasure was she, that Maldea didn't even notice the red tinge permeating the orgiastic room. Maldea first became aware of a pressure deep inside her head. Then a voice, a parody of Lalo's innocent tones rang out in her ears.
'Slake your desire sister, come join us'
Maldea paused, temporarily lost in confusion.
'Come join us sister,' the seductive voice crooned.
Maldea walked slowly forward, gently letting her clothing fall away. She stopped at the side of the bed; idly she watched Cath's hands as they ran over her smooth creamy breasts. Maldea sank down, her body obediently joining her daughter's on the rumpled duvet. Pleasure rained down upon her.
One phrase echoed through Maldea's excited brain.
'What's done cannot be undone.'
'Where am I? What happened?" her drowsy mind asked.
She fumbled through her memories, and slowly Rachael assembled her recent history, fragment by fragment.
'Going to the doctors,'
'Coming hard, and shocking the prudish receptionist,'
'Being pulled off her mum,'
The memory jarred a nerve, and Rachael's rolling eyes grew misty.
'The jab in her arm, and floating to the waiting ambulance,'
'Watching the countryside and mines drift by as she travelled far away from her home,'
'A serious looking woman in a blue uniform, and the smiling woman doctor, then darkness...'
Rachael sniffed back her tears, and moved. Her hand failed to reach her wet eyes. It was held firmly by a leather strap that stretched towards the headboard of the bed.
'Shit, I'm trapped!' the panicked girl thought.
Rachael noticed the red button close to her hand; her finger jabbed at it furiously. Almost at once the glossy green door swung open, and in walked a familiar figure.
"Awake are we? Good. So are we more sociable today?" asked a matronly voice.
"Sod off!" Rachael snarled.
"Before or after I release you?" the nurse asked.
"Release me, you mean you will take these shackles off?" Rachael smiled weakly.
"Yes, you know they are only on to stop you wandering around when you are too drowsy. We don't want any accidents, these neuroleptics are pretty powerful," the nurse paused, "but you seem awake enough to me."
"What are neuroleptics?"
"The class of drugs you are on, Rachael, they help control your symptoms -the voices?"
"Voices, no - there is just one voice, that bitch Lalo. She controls me!"
"Rachael, you are ill, the doctors and I will help you."
"By drugging me and tying me down?" Rachael spat out.
"You keep up that spirit, girl; it will help you get better,"
"I'm not ill..." Rachael's voice trailed off.
The nurse walked forward and unbuckled the straps securing Rachael to the hospital bed. Rachael read the label on the nurse's lapel: 'Cora Vickery. Matron Unit 5.'
"Cora, what sort of name is that?" Rachael asked.
"A Scottish sort, Rachael, is that OK with you?"
"You don't sound Scottish."
"I've been here so long, the accent - it fades, I expect. Anyway, Dr Kemp will want to see you shortly, now you are back with us."
"Well fuck her, I'm staying here." growled Rachael.
"We'll see, Rachael, we will see." The matron winked, and swept out of the room.
---
Rachael sat in the doctor's office, glaring at the pasty-faced girl opposite her; she was the epitome of everyone's image of the institutionalised. Her sallow cheeks were bony ridges above a deeply hollowed mouth, at which skinny fingers plucked for no obvious reason. Her dirty blonde hair hung lankly across her forehead, mostly obscuring the pale blue darting eyes. The girl, for she was no more than that, looked like a startled deer, caught in the headlights of an oncoming lorry.
For an instant, Rachael felt sorry for her waif-like companion, and was just about to speak, when the door opened. In breezed a woman in a business suit, who sat behind the room's solitary desk. Quietly she thumbed through a few sheets of paper, and then spoke.
"Welcome, Rachael, I am Dr Kemp and this is Pearl. Please try to relax; we are just here to make our introductions. Pearl will be your mentor and room mate, she knows all about the hospital - and will help you to feel at home here."
"I'm not sharing a room with that junkie! She looks a right smack-head, how the hell can she help me?" Rachael gave a derisory laugh.
"Pearl has never abused drugs, Rachael; she suffers from agoraphobia and an eating disorder. She is however, bright and capable. Now introduce yourself to Pearl, I'm sure she will accept your apology." Dr Kemp frowned.
"Yeah, sure, bog off!" said Rachael.
"OK then Rachael, have it your way. I still want you to introduce yourself, and explain why you are here."
Rachael's face fell, her confident, cheeky air evaporated. She couldn't discuss this - not now; stuck in a room with a Welsh clone of Shirley Conran, and a zombie. Rachael shifted uncomfortably, and stared at her tightly clasped hands. Her panic was blind; there was nowhere left to turn. Rachael's moods swung wildly. Was she losing her mind?
"If it's easier Rachael, Pearl and I will start first?"
Rachael nodded sullenly.
"I'm Dr Virginia Kemp, Child Psychologist and Psychosexual counsellor. I'm from Cardiff originally, and my friends call me Ginny."
Pearl glanced up, the hair fell away from her eyes; the pale orbs scanned Rachael intensely.
"Me, I'm Pearl, Pearl White. I like it here, it's safe, Rachael; you don't have to go anywhere you don't want to. I hate going outside, so they keep me here, safe and sound," Pearl stated in a clear low voice.
"My name is Rachael Savage; I'm here because I hear a voice."
"Yes and the voice tells you to do unpleasant things. Why do you listen, why do you do as the voice says?" Dr Kemp asked.
"It's not my fault! When Lalo talks to me I lose control, I have to do what she wants," Rachael stated.
"So this Lalo, is she a real person?"
"Yes, she's the lezzy bitch that set me up, she made me grope my mum - I didn't want to do it!" Rachael spoke through her tears.
"You groped your mum? Gross..." Pearl eyed Rachael with suspicion, "I'm not going to share a room with her!"
"Pearl, Rachael is on a high dose of colozapine, she won't hear the voices now. You are quite safe, Pearl, and Rachael will help you get over some of your fears," Virginia said.
"I don't like her! She's weird; let me share with someone else - anyone else," Pearl pleaded.
"Now, Pearl..." Dr Kemp was interrupted by Rachael.
"Please Pearl, I'm sorry, I need a friend..." tears streamed down Rachel's face "I'm lost, I don't understand what's happening to me."
Pearl's expression changed as the last sentence left Rachael's lips. She sat forward, and rested her thin hand on Rachael's.
"It's OK, I know. We'll help each other, I'll be your big sister, Rachael"
"Big sister? How old are you, Pearl?" Rachael sniffed.
"I'm seventeen, Rachael, and you?"
"Seventeen, but you look like a kid. I'm fourteen, but I look older than you."
"Pearl's illness has stopped her developing sexually, Rachael, that's why she looks as she does." Dr Kemp added.
"I still don't have periods, and I never want to!" Pearl's voice quaked.
"You want to be a little girl forever?" Rachael asked, incredulously.
"I never want to be a woman, to have to..." Pearl's voice trailed off.
Pearl coughed and dry retched.
"OK, Pearl, we aren't going to talk about that any more. Calm down, calm now."
"I'm all right, sorry," whimpered Pearl.
"Let's wind this up, you two girls go and get to know each other. We'll talk more tomorrow"
Virginia smiled as the girls wandered away from her office. She had high hopes for them both, and as experimental as this approach was - it did show promise.
---
Jeff panted, and drove his buttocks down once more. He relished the feel of her soft suction, pulling him into her very core. He closed his eyes and blindly stroked her rib cage. He swept his fingers over her smooth breasts and located her needy nipples. She tightened against him, her breath coming in short gasps. Jeff felt her legs cross behind his flexing back; lovingly she drew him to her. He felt the beginning, his slack pouch contracted--squeezing and propelling his seed on its furious journey. Lustily, headily, he came, filling her and calling the name of his love into the still night.
"Maldea!"
He opened his eyes, and stared down into the deep blue ones returning his gaze.
"Oh god, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." Jeff puffed.
"Don't worry, Jeff, it's not the first time," she said.
"I know, but that's hardly an excuse!"
"Look, I know I'm just the substitute here. I know how much you love her."
"You are no substitute, Janet; you are far more than that - without you I'd have gone mad years ago," Jeff protested.
"I know, but I will never understand it, you are crazy about her - are you sure it can't work?"
"We can never just make love, she always holds something back," Jeff paused, "it's as if she's afraid it will all start again."
"What will all start again, Jeff? In all these years - you never have told me," Janet asked.
"And I never will!" Jeff shouted.
Jeff grabbed his trousers, and started to pull them up his legs. His hands trembled with rage.
"You're not going now, Jeff, you can't just storm out on me, again!"
Janet curled her arm around Jeff's waist; her fingers fondled his wet shaft, and then sank down to weigh his ample balls. She felt him swelling against her wrist; he was weakening.
"Leave it, Janet, I have told you before there are things I can't tell you -I'm going home."
Janet wriggled around Jeff, and took his bobbing cock-head into her mouth. Her tongue explored the stretched organ, and slid to the weeping opening.
Jeff sighed.
"Well, maybe it can wait until tomorrow morning..." he laughed.
"Or Friday?" Janet mumbled, sending shocks through his stiff prick.
"Or Friday, you are so bad, girl..."
Jeff's penis flopped out of Janet's succulent mouth, she giggled.
"Besides which, you can't go all the way to Cornwall - commando!" she pointed to Jeff's crumpled boxer shorts on the floor.
Jeff grabbed Janet playfully, and moved her head back to his turgid erection. She engulfed him joyfully, giving him a cheeky nip with her sharp teeth.
"Ow, watch it! And less of the comedy lady..." Jeff chuckled.
In response Janet slid her mouth down to the base of his cock, her lips grazing his dark curls. She slowly dragged her lips up his shaft, nibbling the pulsing skin as she went. His length popped out of her mouth and bobbed furiously, as if seeking its warm sheath.
"A comedian I may be, but I'm no lady," Janet grinned.
As her head descended towards his dancing erection, Jeff nodded his head in dumb agreement.
---
Pearl lay quietly in her new bed, too fearful to sleep. Her mind was full of today's confessions; Rachael's voice echoed in her thoughts. She found herself wondering what it must be like to experience such a loss of control. Pearl's mind recoiled, that was her worst fear - that one day it would happen.
The years rolled back in her head; she saw the squat, the needles, and her mother straddling yet another man. One of an endless procession of men that paid for the heroin Steph craved. She felt the determination well up inside her. She would never, never, be like her, Pearl would never be a woman; she would stay safe.
Finally, Pearl drifted off into an uneasy sleep; she squirmed as the dreams came - they always did. She was back at the hated squat, mum was seeing off her latest visitor. She heard the insincere banter.
"Glad you enjoyed it, lovely to see you again. You are my favourite you know - such a man."
Slowly the dishevelled creature lumbered back into what passed for a living room. She threw herself down onto a torn dirty armchair, her towelling robe hung open. Pearl caught sight of the ravaged pale body, inwardly she shivered.
"What's up with you Pearly, do you want a slice of mummy too. Yes you would like to be like Rachael, a real daughter, real c-l-o-s-e." Steph staggered to her feet and stumbled towards Pearl, her dangling breasts swinging with each unsteady step.
"My Pearly..." Steph cooed, in mock seduction.
Steph fell forwards and landed on Pearl with force, her slack mouth sought Pearl's. Pearl watched the haggard face descend towards her; Pearl smelt the stale cigarettes. Steph wheezed, uttered a single cough and lurched towards Pearl's paralysed form. Cold passionless lips found Pearl's; she shuddered at the taste of the man's putrid semen on her mother's tongue.
Pearl woke up with a start, covered in perspiration, with her heart thumping. Her wild eyes darted around the moonlit room, she was safe. This wasn't the squat. She made her way to the wash basin, and thirstily guzzled some water from the cold tap. Standing, Pearl caught sight not only of her distraught reflection, but of an image that burned itself into her retinas. Her room mate - was sprawled naked on top of her bedclothes.
Pearl turned, dreamlike, and gazed at Rachael's unconscious display. Her eyes followed the rounded contours; Rachael looked so different to her mother, so ripe. The moonlight cast a bluish, unreal tinge on Rachael's smooth skin; she glowed, looking more like a goddess than a girl.
Pearl swallowed hard, but her mouth was dry. Rachel stirred on the bed, moving her legs languidly. Pearl watched in fascination as Rachael's thighs slid open - she caught sight of a small tattooed butterfly. Then, gradually Rachael's sex appeared before her, yawning wildly. Pearl marvelled at the intricate beauty before her, the silken hairs and deep inviting chasm.
Pearl felt odd, something was happening to her. She gazed down at her cotton night shirt, and saw two raised peaks tipping the gentlest of swells. Her hands sought them out, initially to still the prickling sensation. They stayed to caress her virgin nipples, coaxing them to full prominence. Pearl's breathing shortened, as new sensations flooded her inexperienced body. The warmth and itching between her thighs grew, until she could stand it no longer. A tenuous hand slid down her taut stomach, pausing momentarily when it encountered the down above her labia, and then wormed its way lower.
The wetness surprised Pearl, and she withdrew her fingers bringing them under her twitching nose.
'It's not wee, I haven't wet myself,' she thought, sighing with relief.
Her slit cried out for the return of her nervous hand, without hesitation her fingers returned to her treasure. The probing fingertips opened her slick lips and delved inside, trembling as they explored the unaccustomed territory. With a minimum of pressure they slid down the pulsing cleft and entered a velvet pouch. Pearl stiffened against her own touch.
'Something's going to happen if I keep doing this. I can feel it building up!'
Despite her desperate thoughts, her fingers danced ever faster, coating her vulva with delicious secretions. But dance as they might, they could not take her to her unknown goal. The motion of her hand tensioned with real frustration; the harder she tried to complete her passion the further away it seemed.
Then something miraculous happened, new fingers touched her - fingers that knew what to do - where to press. Pearl's eyes flew open. Rachael was standing directly in front of her, the tip of Rachael's nose almost nuzzling hers. Slowly but inevitably, the two pairs of lips closed the distance between them and smothered each other. Pearl stiffened, and then melted, dissolving into the delight of her first ever orgasm.
---
Jeff reached the outskirts of Tintagel just as the sun dipped below the horizon. He glanced at the digital clock on the dash, 20:01 - autumn would be here all too soon. He pulled into the lay-by outside the 'Spar 8 'til late' shop, and sprinted up to the door.
It was still open; he breezed into the cluttered store, and walked past the glaring headlines of the local Friday papers. He turned right, walked up the aisle, and retrieved a solitary box of 'Milk Tray' chocolates. He paid in cash, smiling at the young girl's groans. The filled plastic bags on the counter confirmed that she had already cashed up for the day.
"Please, I may be in need of the brownie points. I'm late again!" he practised his most disarming grin.
"Oh, OK just this once, but only because I know Maldea deserves them," she smiled wearily.
"Cheers! See you…" Jeff called, as he ran back towards the entrance.
"Mmmm, bye..."
Jeff hurtled into the darkness, and drove home in record time. The first inkling he had that life was other than normal came as he swept the car into the garage, beside the darkened house. Idly he wondered why the windows weren't blazing into the night. A chilly thought hit him; he hoped Maldea didn't have one of her migraines. Now that really could spoil his plans for this evening.
He was still ruminating on the course his weekend would take, when he flicked on the hall light.
"Hi Maldea, I'm home! Are you OK, love?"
No response.
"Lalo, are you home?"
No response.
"Hey, are you ill? H-e-l-l-o."
No response.
Concerned, Jeff rushed through the house, flicking on lights as he went. He vaulted up the stairs two at a time. Their bedroom was empty; Maldea was not reclining on her sick bed. Jeff frowned, and headed for Lalo's room. He stumbled over some plates, and swore under his breath at his daughter's slovenly habits. What he saw next raised the hairs covering his tanned neck.
The room was in chaos with clothes strewn around the floor. He bent and examined the closest pile; on the very top was a pair of discarded panties. Jeff picked them up; he couldn't fail to notice how starched the gusset was, and he sniffed deeply. Jeff was greeted with the rich aroma of Maldea's sex. Two similar piles of clothes lay on the far side of the bed. Then he noticed what was on the bed. A rudimentary inverted crucifix had been fashioned from two broken pieces of wood. He froze, not wood, a broken pool cue - the pool cue, his pool cue from New York.
Seconds passed, and eventually Jeff moved, wiping the tears from his eyes. Through the blur he saw the crudely written message on the dresser mirror. He checked its substance with an extended finger, and realised, to his relief, it wasn't blood but lipstick. He squinted at the unfamiliar scrawl, slowly and with difficulty he read:
'When shall we three meet again, In thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurly-burly's done, When the battle's lost and won.'
Jeff read it, and wept.
"I'm amazed they are so popular with this lot. I mean in my day, sure, they were well hot."
"So, who was your favourite then, Helen?" Audrey bawled back.
"Sorry, what?"
"Fave, which one was your Fave Bitch?" Audrey hollered.
"Oh, Ali - Alison Blackhead. Yours?" Helen replied.
"Ellie, I always had a thing, a crush on Ellie. Still have!"
The words sunk into Helen, she gave an involuntary shudder.' Crush?' Helen thought, 'Audrey, the man killer had a thing for women too? Shit, how come I get none?' Further thoughts were suspended, as the sexy septuplet emerged through the arrival gate. It was all the police could do to hold the thin blue line - let alone think. Leather and flesh, cleavage and attitude; 'Les Bitches' walked steadily towards the sea of adoration. Helen overheard a comment she fully agreed with.
"They still look as hot as ever! How come they don't ever age?"
She felt her pants grow damp, partly from manhandling the writhing teenage girls who she held back from the stars. Mostly though, it was from the look she caught in Ali's eye, as she breezed past the struggling WPC.
The line broke, and the masses poured forward. Panicked police voices rang out hopelessly through the chaos. Helen recognised the danger at once, the band were in danger of being crushed to death by their adoring followers. In the blink of an eye, the crowd had flowed within yards of the troupe of women. They had no protection and no obvious security; surely they were doomed.
In front of Helen's wide eyes, the most remarkable thing happened. The storm of thundering feet was stilled; the entire crowd stopped moving en masse. Helen's eyes moved from one confused face to another, the expressions changed from uncertainty to rapture.
Helen felt her own pleasure peak, as girl after girl climaxed before her eyes. Time slowed as Helen's heartbeat pulsed in her ears; each beat, a small orgasm on the way to something cataclysmic. The terminal faded away; Helen was alone, haunted by a mischievous Sapphic poltergeist. Only her pleasure existed, the world stopped and Helen stepped off it, into her keenest fantasy.
Helen stared up into Audrey's concerned face. She felt her lips moving, but no words came. Audrey bent lower, and spoke to her fallen comrade.
"It's OK, it will pass. Just keep calm," she smiled, her concern apparent.
"Les Bitches - Ali, did they get away?" Helen asked.
"They are fine, vanished; God knows what has happened here though," said Audrey.
Helen sat up and swung her head in a broad arc, people were sprawled everywhere. Women, men and children - some writhed in silent ecstasy, still others masturbated openly; their glazed eyes a testament to their vacant but lustful expressions. Others, like her, were recovering. Men in semen splattered trousers clung to any support they could find, women desperately tried to cover the evidence of wild desire. Most pitiful were the confused children, witness to passions they had only ever whispered about, and wracked by their own unwanted desires.
"Who did this?" Helen mumbled, as the tears welled in her eyes.
"Best guess is some sort of terrorist nerve gas attack, the bastards!" Audrey advised.
"So it wasn't the band?" Helen sobbed.
"No, how could it be? They are just seven normal women," Audrey paused, "aren't they?"
Helen nodded back at Audrey; the words just came to her - from the ether.
"Of course they are, I'm just confused. Forget I ever said it." Helen smiled.
Ali was with her, she felt her mind caressed by the softest of vampyre thoughts. Helen grinned; she would never be alone again.
---
Jolene hummed happily as she steered the black stretch limo serenely along the M4. She and Manda had easily slipped through the throngs at Heathrow unnoticed. Nobody wanted their autographs; just as well, Jolene would have been a little more brutal than the Bitches were. She listened to the soft chorus of sighs that drifted forwards from the paneled-off rear of the car. Yeah, they could day walk now, but it took its toll - they had to rest. Just as well really, it meant that she and Manda were still indispensable. As much as she loved them, desired them, and was servile to them, she would never be dumb enough to trust them. No sirree, she had seen too much over the years for that.
"So where are we headed?" chirped Manda.
"To Cornwall, still a long way to go Mand," Jolene replied, without as much as a glance from the roadway.
"Is that in England, or Wales?" Manda asked.
"It's England, honey, as far south and west as you can get."
"So how far?"
"Hundreds of miles yet, so be patient."
"I can't wait that long," breathed Manda.
"You need to pee? We can stop. I saw a sign for the services - it's only about 2 more miles."
"No it's more important than that, the power they used back there. Man, that was a turn on, I'm just horny."
Jolene pulled the car across to the inside left lane, and slowed from 80 to 60 mph. Her left hand brushed against the automatic lever as it moved to Manda's lap.
"Now we can't have that, can we, sis?" Jolene laughed.
Manda opened her thighs as the insistent fingers wriggled between them. She leant over and skimmed her hand across the sensitive black skin at the top of Jolene's tight leg.
"Uh uh, not me, I need to concentrate. I have no interest in coming just as we slide under the back of one of these trucks. No touch, just lay back and enjoy. I'll think about what you can do for me in return at the hotel." Jolene winked at her errant sibling.
"Spoilsport!" Manda whispered, wistfully.
Then she sighed, leant back and let Jolene's practiced fingers take her.
"You know I might even enjoy this little holiday," Manda breathed, her gasps already shortening.
Alison listened to the cries of incestuous masturbation, drifting back from the cab. She smiled. Today had been a good day - and by the sound of it the night would be long and exciting. Her mind drifted back to their arrival. Now that had been so lucky, or maybe not - perhaps all the policewomen on this small isle were suppressed lesbians. But to have her so easily; to be able to mind-meld in an instant, now that was rare. They now had a contact in the UK police force, and who knew when that could be of use.
Concentrating, Alison wondered if she could make contact now. The limo faded into a grey nothingness as Alison's consciousness left her. She flew over fields of verdant green, before slamming back into reality. Her eyes flickered open and looked out through foreign irises.
---
Helen blinked, and jumped.
"Are you OK?" a disembodied voice asked.
Helen turned towards the questioner.
"Are you all right, Helen?" the Barman asked.
"Oh yeah, sure, sorry - I was miles away!" Helen paused, "Be back in a minute, George."
George watched Helen as she walked towards the ladies' room.
'If only I could just work up the courage to ask her out.' Inwardly George sighed, wishing his public persona could break him out of his deep shyness.
Helen walked on, unaware of the admiring eyes following her; her current concern was only about one thing - how to control this feeling of urgent, burning, alien desire. She closed the cubicle door behind her, and ripped her jeans down with such force that her pants followed the rapid descent. Helen stared in disbelief at the dark stains on her crumpled clothes, how could she be so wet?
Helen cradled her soaking cunt with her extended fingers. To her amazement, her clitoris reared its domed head through her lips. Impatiently, it banged against her dangling thumb, just the way her cat would, when begging for the first feed of the day. Her thumb and fingers surrounded the purring nub and petted away the hunger. Helen threw back her head and mewled. Her pleasure found a voice and it sang a seductive song.
"Are you all right? Do you need help?" an inquisitive voice asked from the far side of the cubicle door.
"Oh yes, I need help!" Helen groaned loudly.
"Open the latch, I'm a first aider."
Helen pulled the door towards her violently - snapping off the now redundant latch. She moved with incredible speed. Helen grabbed the startled do-gooder and thrust her to her knees. With gay abandon, she smashed her groin into the shocked-open mouth. As her clitoris crushed against an unwilling tongue, Helen came, screaming loudly.
Seconds later the toilet door was flung open, George burst in.
"I knew you weren't yourself, Helen. I'm here…"
George watched as he saw the panicked look on the kneeling woman's face dissolve into desire, as her mouth filled with Helen's ejaculate. He saw the unrestrained bliss on Helen's face. He saw how truly wasted his love was.
Alison groaned as the mutual orgasm hit her. Although separated in space and time, the feeling was deeply shared. Really mutual; the climax of two souls melded into one. As she recovered, Alison laughed, amazed at her own power. The British Bobbies didn't know what was about to hit them.
---
Virginia hastened her pumping legs as she left the village of Tuckingmill. She was close now, a couple of miles - time for a sprint. A month ago, this would have been impossible, but the determination had paid off. Even with all the cycling she wasn't losing much weight yet, but her stamina had definitely improved.
Under her chafing breath, she swore softly at her Celtic ancestors for handing on such unfashionable genes. Virginia was one of the plump variety of Welsh women. It actually looked quite normal on her, but not to her eyes. She was so sensible, and yet, Dr Virginia Kemp had tried all the diet plans; when they failed her, she turned to exercise. Virginia was determined to sculpt her body into something from a Vogue magazine. She was not in the slightest neurotic though, no, after all, she would have recognised the symptoms.
She puffed up the incline and into Camborne. The Hospital was close now - in 15 minutes she would be showered, empowered, and ready to start the dreaded 'graveyard' shift. Finally, thankfully, Virginia leant her racing bike against the flint stone wall of the hospital. Humming, she left her precious bike unlocked- something she would never have done in Cardiff; down here, there was so little real crime.
The water stung her reddened skin, and Virginia continued to hum. Soon the hum changed; she burst into one of her many chapel hymns. Her clear melodious tones filled the staff changing rooms. The solo performance provided excellent cover for her assailants, letting them move into position undetected.
Virginia turned off the water, and drew back the curtain. She stepped into the steamy room, and donning a towel, went to her locker. She never reached it. From nowhere, a sack was thrown over her head, and unseen arms wrapped around her. Virginia released a muffled protest into the sack.
"If you do as we say, you won't get harmed!"
"Rachael, is that you? Don't be so silly!" Virginia's reply was muted.
"It doesn't matter who it is - you are going to help us escape, you have no choice."
"Escape, how?" Virginia mumbled.
"Drive us to a hiding place. Simple, even you can manage that."
"I came on my bike!" Virginia was even more indistinct.
"What? Speak up, that makes no sense!"
"I came on my BIKE!" Virginia shouted, into the sacking.
"Oh great! Marvellous! Thank you very much..."
"There's always the van," another voice chimed in.
"Pearl? Has she suckered you into this madness as well?" Virginia asked.
A savage kick to the shin was her reply, followed by a barked question.
"Where are the van keys? Quickly!"
"You'll have to find them. I am not telling you." Virginia sounded resolute.
The towel around her was ripped back, and pinching, twisting fingers dug deep into her breast, torturing her trapped nipple.
"Tell me, or I will rip this off!"
Something in the voice told Virginia this was no idle threat. It was the manic promise of someone on the very edge. Suddenly Virginia was very frightened, very frightened indeed.
"My locker." Virginia said, nodding sullenly towards the grey cabinet that had been in front of her.
"Better, much better!"
Virginia bounced uncomfortably as her shoulder struck the ridged metal floor of the hospital van. She lay dazed for a few seconds, and then sat up. She shuffled cautiously forward; her naked toes struck the rear doors - she pushed in vain, the doors held fast. A sudden lurch threw her sidewards, and confirmed to her that the van was being driven by a relative novice. Desperately she scrabbled at the sacking covering her head and this time it gave way.
Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, and she saw a scrap of paper had been pinned onto her towel. Examination revealed it as a page from a school book, a passage from Shakespeare. One paragraph was circled in red ink. Virginia read:
"What are these, So withered, and so wild in their attire, That look not like th' inhabitants o' the earth, And yet are on't?"
Virginia looked up, wondering just what the hell all of this was about? Turning her head, she had the oddest of feelings; She was greeted by an insane stare of two wild eyes. The eyes were tinged with an unusual red cast. Could this be an effect of the rear view mirror they glared into?
The van shuddered to a premature halt. The glaring eyes disappeared from the mirror, and then re-appeared at the grill above the driver's seat. Seen directly, the redness and piercing gaze had an even more unearthly quality. Virginia recoiled, shuddered and felt her cool exterior crack. Her scream filled the van's cab.
No one heard. The driver concentrated on the journey ahead once more, and the van lurched forwards. The white van sped headlong through the hospital gates, as its captive wept for her future. ---
I hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, feedback is appreciated, since it is my only payment for my work.
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