Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

Note from JetBoy: When Juicy Secrets contributor Karin Halle died a few months ago, she left behind a number of stories. These were well-written but somewhat rough first drafts that she would have worked on with either BlueJean or yours truly. In the months (years?) to come, we want to share the best of these with you.

BlueJean and I both worked on this one. My hat is raised to Mr. Blue for the valuable editing he did here (especially since he has stories of his own to, er, keep his hand busy).

Thanks for the stories, Karin… and for your friendship. We miss you.

by Karin Halle

Few people were in attendance at the graveside funeral service, not due to any pandemic restrictions but because hardly anyone had come to mourn the passing of Elizabeth Long, dead at forty-six. She never married, had no children, and her parents were long gone. There was an older sister, Joyce, but they had been estranged for many years. Elizabeth had never known much about her niece and two nephews, except that they existed.

A couple of Elizabeth’s work colleagues attended the funeral, along with several other people with whom she had kept in touch from her student days. The neighbours who had witnessed the freak accident were there as well, still visibly shaken by the experience. They’d been complaining about that big tree branch for years, they said. It wasn’t safe, they said. It killed Elizabeth instantly.

They had been the ones to call the paramedics, who could do nothing, and the police, who concluded that the accident didn’t call for an investigation.

Only one member of Elizabeth’s small family was in attendance. Despite the fact that they hardly knew each other beyond a handful of letters and emails, Elizabeth had listed her niece Tammy as next of kin, so Tammy was the one who had been contacted by the authorities. Joyce had advised her daughter not to get involved, but Tammy ignored her. She was unaware of the reason why the two sisters had been so bitterly divided – but the feud had been going on for as long as the thirty-four-year-old could remember.

To Tammy, obligations were far more important than her mother’s feud, so she’d taken on the task of handling her late aunt’s affairs, as Elizabeth had wanted. The police had handed over her aunt’s handbag, along with her wallet and keys, so she had been able to let herself into her aunt’s modest house. Her first task had been to locate Elizabeth’s will, which she eventually found in a folder marked Important in her aunt’s unlocked roll-top desk. Her next priority was to engage with a lawyer to deal with all the other matters.

As she half-listened to the preacher’s droning voice, Tammy noticed another person at the gravesite, or more accurately, nearby. A teenage girl was standing by a small stand of trees that ran alongside a wall separating sections of the cemetery. She was clearly watching the service, but made no move to join the other mourners. Tammy couldn’t help but wonder who she was.

When the brief ceremony was over, Tammy headed towards the line of trees and spoke to the onlooker. “Hi there. You know, if you were that interested, you could’ve joined us.”

Glancing around, the girl seemed bent on escape, but decided not to run away. “I… I was afraid.” Then she said something which surprised Tammy. “Were you Liz’s friend too?”

“I’m her niece,” Tammy said evenly. “How did you know my aunt?”

With a defiant look, the girl replied, “We were friends.” As quickly as it had appeared, the defiance washed away. She quietly added, “Girlfriends.”

Unable to fully process that, Tammy asked, “H-how old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

Her head swimming, Tammy put a hand against a tree to steady herself. “How long were you and my aunt… how long has this been going on?”

“Over two years, close to three now.”

Tammy did the subtraction. “So you were… my God.”

“Yeah. Twelve.” The flash of bravado returned. “Are you shocked?”

“Not shocked; not exactly, anyway. I’m not sure what I feel.” She looked closely at the girl. “I barely knew my aunt. She and my mum hadn’t spoken for years. I didn’t even know she was gay. Mum probably didn’t, either.”

Then a realisation hit her. Hard. “Or maybe she did know. Maybe that’s why they… oh, wow, that would explain a lot.” With an effort she pulled her attention back to the present. “I’m Tammy.”

“I’m Watson,” the teenager replied, causing Tammy to gasp. This time the girl’s words had shocked her.

“You’re Watson? Watson Cobb?”

“That’s right.” The girl’s puzzlement was evident.

Tammy swallowed and said, “What’s your middle name?”

Unsure where this was leading, Watson’s reply was tinged with suspicion. Nevertheless, she answered. “Louisa. Watson Louisa Cobb. Why? What’s it to you?”

“My Aunt Elizabeth… her, her will. She left most of her possessions to me, but there was a life insurance policy, in your name. I didn’t know who Watson Louisa Cobb was, or how I would even be able to find you, but the benefit on that policy is $250,000. A quarter of a million dollars.”

Watson looked as if she might burst into tears at any moment. “Oh, no… No, no, no! She shouldn’t have done that! She just, she shouldn’t have.” The teen looked desperately at Tammy, utterly distraught. “I never wanted anything from her. Really, I didn’t. She kept saying how much she loved me, and how much I meant to her, but I knew – you know, deep down, that she’d find somebody else sooner or later. But she said, over and over, that it wasn’t going to be like that, that I was… the one.”

Tears began trickling down her cheeks. “I never wanted anything from her – except her love, f-for as long as it lasted.”

Tammy hesitantly put both arms around Watson and drew her close, letting the girl sob into her chest.

“I don’t want her stuff, or anything else from her – I just want her back!”

Tammy held Watson in silence until the tears stopped. Trite words weren’t going to help. It was already late afternoon, and when the sun became obscured by a bank of clouds, Tammy figured it was time to leave. Noticing several groundskeepers approaching the open grave, spades in hand, she gently led Watson away.

“Can I give you a lift somewhere?” Tammy asked the girl as they drifted toward the parking lot.

“I don’t have any place to go,” Watson replied despondently.

“Well, where’s home? Or where have you been staying?”

“I’ve been living with Liz for over eighteen months now. When my parents found out about us, they kicked me out. They didn’t know I was gay, not until then. We were lucky they didn’t call the cops on us.”

Bewildered, Tammy came to an abrupt stop. “But I’ve been over at the house sorting stuff out all week and you weren’t there. All the food in the fridge is out of date.”

“I was locked out – I never had a key. I didn’t ever need one. But the police locked the place when they finished up after… after what happened.”

“You’ve been locked out since she died? But that’s six days ago!”

Watson nodded, then explained, “I slept on the sofa on the back porch. The weather’s been pretty good – well, some of the nights were a bit cool.”

Tammy was stunned. “What about food?”

“There’s fruit trees in the backyard. I’m getting pretty sick of apples, though.”

“That’s all you’ve had to live on for six days?!” Tammy was appalled. “Come on, we’ll go and get dinner – a proper dinner. We’ll get you a key cut for the house, too.”

The sheer gratitude on Watson’s face nearly broke Tammy’s heart. “You mean… you’re letting me stay?”

“Well, I can’t think of any other suitable arrangement at the moment. I’m certainly not going to let you sleep outside!”

It was the teenager’s turn to wrap her arms around Tammy. “Oh, thank you. Thank you! That’s so nice of you. Does this mean we’re going to be sharing?”

“Maybe,” Tammy admitted. “Maybe it does.”

In fact, Tammy hadn’t yet given much thought about what to do with the house she’d inherited – sell it, rent it, or move in herself. She had an apartment of her own, but it was only rented, and the idea of owning a home was very appealing.

But now there was the question of what to do about Watson. She couldn’t put the girl out on the streets; this was a kid who’d already been thrown out once before – by her own parents, no less. On the other hand, her aunt’s house wasn’t big enough to accommodate paying tenants and let Watson stay.

I’ll worry about it later, she told herself. At least this poor kid doesn’t have to sleep rough tonight.

***

The first order of business was Watson’s key, and by the time that task was completed, it was time for dinner.

The restaurant at which they ate wasn’t particularly fancy, but the food was tasty, and the portions generous. Watson couldn’t disguise her hunger, but she didn’t rush the meal, making it a point to savour every mouthful.

By the time Tammy pulled the car into the driveway of her aunt’s house, it was getting late. She handed Watson the new key and waited for the girl to get out of the car.

Watson didn’t move. “I don’t think I can go in there alone.” She turned to Tammy. “Can you please come with me?”

Tammy got out of the car, and they walked to the front door together. She gave Watson a reassuring smile. “Try your key to make sure it works. We’ll have to take it back to the locksmith if it doesn’t.”

Although it was already full dark, the night couldn’t mask the look of relief on Watson’s face as she slipped the key into the lock and the tongue drew back. She swung the door open and slowly stepped inside.

Knowing that Watson would be feeling melancholy, Tammy put her arm around the teenager’s shoulders. She felt a tremble, then the girl leaned against her.

When she felt able to speak without breaking down, Watson turned to Tammy. “Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, ‘cause we’ve only just met and you’ve got your own place and all, but… would you mind staying with me? Just for tonight? I really don’t want to be here by myself.”

Between her aunt’s funeral and the revelations surrounding Watson Cobb, it had been a stressful day. It was late, she was tired, and didn’t much relish the idea of the forty-five minute drive back to her apartment. She’d taken a few days off work to attend to her aunt’s affairs, so there was no need for an early start in the morning.

Tammy was just about ready to agree to the girl’s request when something occurred to her: there was no spare bed. The house had two bedrooms, but the second bedroom had been used for storage.

“It’s okay,” Watson said when Tammy raised the issue. “I’ll sleep in the living room.”

“No,” Tammy firmly stated. “This is your home, so that means it’s your bedroom and your bed.”

“But it’s your house, and that includes everything in it,” Watson pointed out.

“There’s no sofa, only two easy chairs,” Tammy argued. “And you’ve been outside for too long, so you deserve to have the bed.”

For a moment they just stared at each other, each waiting for the other to yield. Neither did.

Watson broke the impasse. “We could, maybe… share? If you’re okay with it, that is. It’s a big bed, so we’d have plenty of room. We wouldn’t have to be close together, and I’ll stay on my side. You can use one of Liz’s nighties.” A hint of colour reached Watson’s cheeks. “If you can find one, that is. She usually didn’t wear them. Neither of us did, actually.”

“I’m fine with sleeping in my undies,” Tammy assured her.

“I will too, then,” Watson declared.

With that decided, the two of them settled in the living room to watch TV and chat. When it was time to turn in for the night they made for the bedroom, self-consciously stripped to their underwear and slipped between the sheets.

No sooner had they wished each other goodnight and turned to face away from each other than Tammy could hear the teenager crying, although she was clearly trying to do it quietly.

Tammy rolled over and reached out, pulling the weeping girl close and holding her until the tears petered out. For a while, she thought the teen had cried herself to sleep, but after a long silence, Watson said quietly, “I’ve never been in this bed without Liz. She never stayed away overnight or went anywhere without me. I loved her s-so much!”

“Are you going to be okay?” Tammy asked.

“I’m… I’m not used to wearing anything in bed. Is it okay if I sleep naked?”

Without waiting for a reply, Watson rolled onto her back, where she unclipped her bra and wriggled out of her panties. Tammy was expecting the girl to settle in once she was nude, but instead, Watson slipped back into her arms.

It was somewhat unnerving to find herself cradling a naked young girl in her arms, but Tammy knew how badly Watson needed to be comforted. She was still somewhat restless, too – even after freeing herself of bra and knickers, the teen continued to fidget restlessly, still pressed into Tammy’s embrace.

Eventually Watson was still, but Tammy was becoming alarmed by her own feelings. She could smell Watson’s natural fragrance, delicate and sweet, and feel the warmth of the girl’s bare skin against her body.

Tammy was enjoying this, more than she ought to. None of the men she’d been with had ever held her like this. Bet I wouldn’t have enjoyed snuggling like this with a bloke anyway, she told herself. For the first time in her life, Tammy found herself wondering what sex with a woman would be like.

Oh, don’t be silly, she scolded herself. I’m not a lesbian. And what does it matter? – I’ve never been that much into sex anyway.

Finally, despite these unsettling thoughts, Tammy managed to drift off to sleep.

She had no idea what the time was when she woke up, but it was still dark outside. Watson was stroking her breast, gently brushing Tammy’s nipple through her bra.

Before Tammy could make a sound of protest, Watson mumbled, “Why’re you wearin’ a bra in bed, Liz?” The teen’s fingers slipped inside Tammy’s bra cup to get at the bare flesh.

Tammy gave a short gasp of surprise at the sudden contact. She began to push Watson’s hand away, but had second thoughts. Was the girl really asleep, or just pretending? Tammy knew she should put a stop to this immediately, but that hand upon her breast felt lovely, and it had an undeniable effect on her.

She was still struggling with this dilemma when Watson suddenly pulled away and rolled onto her back, legs spread wide in apparent invitation.

“I need you, Liz,” the girl whispered, still in the toneless voice of the unwoken. “…Days since we did anything… An’ I’m so hot – f-feel how wet I am.”

Unable to help herself, Tammy let a hand wander to Watson’s lightly-downed vulva. It was wrong, she knew that, but somehow right, too. It even felt… familiar. She wanted this. She’d never stopped wanting this.

That doesn’t make sense, though. I’ve never touched a woman this way. And I don’t know this girl, for God’s sake.

Watson might have been talking in her sleep, but she was absolutely correct about her pussy being wet. Tammy’s finger slipped easily into the teenager’s vagina, and Watson responded with a deep sigh. “Fuck me, Liz. Please.”

Tammy knew she was playing with fire, but couldn’t bring herself to stop. I’m not Aunt Elizabeth, but I can play that part for Watson, can’t I? Poor kid, she needs to be loved so badly. And damn it, I’m enjoying this. 

She’d never done anything sexual with a girl before – or a woman, for that matter – and found herself astonished by how good this felt. It was far more of a thrill than any of her brief experiences with men, that much was certain.

She began to slide her finger in and out of Watson’s cunt, moving cautiously at first.

“Harder!” the sleeping girl demanded.

When Tammy eased a second finger in to accompany the first, Watson began to move her hips in time with the woman’s strokes, moaning in ecstasy. Tammy fucked the girl even more forcefully, intuitively understanding what the girl wanted, as if she’d pleasured her this way many times before. Little wet sounds punctuated each thrust as her arm sawed back and forth. My God, she’s so wet…

“Oh, fuck yeah!” Watson gasped. “Oh, Liz, I’m about to come!”

Seconds later, a choked cry escaped her lips, and she shook violently in the throes of rapture, leaving Tammy shocked, amazed, and very, very turned on.

She gazed in awe at the trembling young woman, seeing as if for the first time how utterly lovely Watson was, feeling a powerful urge to kiss her.

Half-open eyes were peering up at her… then before she knew what was what, Watson firmly shoved her with both hands, rolling a startled Tammy onto her back.

When Watson spoke again, it was clearly Aunt Elizabeth she was addressing. “Your turn, lover.”

Lowering her face, she brought their mouths together. Her tongue ran along Tammy’s lower lip, seeking entry. Without hesitation, Tammy opened her mouth. That was all Watson needed. She immediately thrust her tongue forward, claiming the woman’s mouth in a heated kiss.

Tammy soon found herself meeting the teen’s ardor with everything she had, kissing Watson with a passion she’d never felt for a lover.

Watson’s lips were soft and sweet. And once more, oddly familiar.

With Tammy eagerly responding, Watson ran a hand over her belly, then slipped into her panties.

“You shaved…” the teen murmured. It was the first significant display of emotion in Watson’s voice since this dream-like encounter had begun. “For me, Liz? Oh, wow. I love it.”

Tammy felt a sudden twinge of guilt. Should I be allowing this? She thinks I’m someone else, for God’s sake. We’re making love under false pretenses!

But when Watson’s fingers found her clit, Tammy lost the will to resist. None of her male partners had paid much attention to the clitoris, usually affording it a brief lick or caress as a prelude to what they really wanted. Watson’s approach was completely different, showering Tammy’s joy button with her undivided attention. Whenever she masturbated, Tammy always gave her clit plenty of love, but for the first time somebody else was concentrating on the sensitive bud, and it was like a gift from heaven.

Except it doesn’t feel like the first time, does it? Tammy considered, then shook her head impatiently. Why do I keep thinking I’ve done this before?

Her excitement and arousal continued to mount, but it was only when she was on the brink of orgasm that Tammy begged, “Put your fingers inside me, oh, please…”

Uncertain if the girl even registered what she wanted, Tammy was thrilled when Watson crammed a couple of fingers into her cunt, teasing the clitoris with her thumb just in time to take Tammy over the precipice.

She arched her back as the most amazing climax washed over her. But Watson refused to stop, her fingers working their magic until Tammy writhed through a second orgasm.

Finally, she lay spent, unable to do more than fill her lungs with air. After a moment, Watson’s lips found hers, and Tammy responded with a hungry lover’s kiss, already wanting to pleasure her partner again.

This time, I’ll use my mouth on her. Tammy was surprised how easily that thought had come to her. She’d never seen herself as capable of lesbian sex, much less going down on another woman. Now Tammy longed to pleasure this lovely girl in every way imaginable.

But acute as her desire was, she was exhausted. I’ll just rest a bit, she thought, then quickly drifted into a deep, dreamless slumber.

***

It was late morning when Tammy’s eyes fluttered open. She felt movement beside her, and was awake in an instant. She peered across at Watson, but the girl showed nothing but serenity, gazing back at her with a shy smile.

My God… I think I might be gay, Tammy told herself. Maybe even in love. How the hell did this happen?

“Um, did you sleep okay?” Tammy asked, keeping her voice even, even though her heart was racing.

“Really, really well. I was kinda surprised – I thought I might have trouble sleeping in this bed. You know, because of Liz.”

Tammy said nothing.

“I had a really strange dream, though… super realistic.” Watson blushed before continuing. “Me and Liz… we were together. Making love. It was like she came to me one last time.”

Tammy knew it was better to be truthful and deal with the consequences here and now. “Watson… you were talking in your sleep. And you… well, you thought I was Aunt Elizabeth, and started, er, touching me. I should’ve stopped you, I know. But instead I, I let it happen. And, um, I touched you, and we ended up making love.”

Watson turned pale. “Oh, God… I’m so sorry! I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Tammy told her. “You weren’t in control. I don’t know, maybe I wasn’t either.”

“What do you mean?” Watson asked.

“It sounds crazy, I know, but it seems to me that we might’ve had a – a visitation.”

Watson’s eyes widened in astonishment. “From Liz?”

Tammy nodded. “I think so. I never knew her that well, but… I just didn’t feel like myself last night. And the whole time I was making love to you, I felt as if it had happened before. Many times. Not only that – I’ve never had a lesbian experience before, and yet… Well, let’s just say I knew exactly how to – to give you pleasure.” She could feel her face getting hot. It had always embarrassed her, discussing sex.

“Oh, yeah. You were incredible,” Watson murmured. “I remember that much, at least. So you think Liz wanted that to happen, for you and me to, to fuck? And… oh, wow, I made you come, too! Um… did you enjoy it?”

“It was beautiful,” said Tammy. “Easily the best sexual experience I’ve ever had.” Suddenly feeling constrained by her underthings, she sat up and took off her bra, then made equally short work of the panties. She tossed them both on the carpet, then stretched out, placing a hand on her companion’s hip. “Watson? Would you mind terribly if I was to kiss you?”

With a shaky laugh, Watson said, “I wanted to ask you the same thing.”

“Something tells me it’s what Aunt Liz wants,” Tammy said. “But I think I want it even more.”

Slowly, slowly, the two women came together until their mouths met. Tammy made the kiss a passionate one, her tongue darting between Watson’s parted lips. The teen was quick to respond, pressing the length of her body against Tammy’s.

They kissed for a long while, finally drifting apart. “Oh, Tammy,” the teen whispered, “that was so, so nice.”

“Yeah, it was,” a dazed Tammy replied. “Uh, Watson? I’m not an impulsive person by nature, but I’m in the mood to do something right now that, well, might sound kinda crazy.” She took a deep breath. “I want to get rid of my apartment and move in here.”

“Oh,” Watson said, her brow furrowed slightly. “So I need to find somewhere else to live.”

“No, no – that’s not what I mean!” Tammy was quick to clarify. “What I’m trying to say is, I’d like it very much if you moved in with me.”

Watson’s eyes widened. “You want me t-to live with you?”

Tammy nodded. “In fact… well, I was hoping we could be girlfriends.”

“But you d-don’t even know me!” Watson cried. “Not really. What if I – Look, I might drive you mental in a week! What then?”

“I do know you,” Tammy insisted, twining her arms around the girl’s waist. “Because Aunt Liz knew you. I think she knew somehow that we belonged together, that we could love each other. That’s how I feel – how about you?”

Watson’s response was to burst into tears. “Oh, Tammy!” she sobbed. “I already have those feelings! I liked you right away, b-but it seemed wrong for me to think that, ‘specially at Liz’s funeral.” She fought to calm herself, impatiently brushing the tears away. “Do you think we were supposed to meet that way?”

“I’m starting to think so,” Tammy said. “Maybe my aunt knew how much I needed a real lover in my life. And at the same time, she didn’t want you to be left alone. So, she put us in each other’s path. Or her spirit did. I don’t know, it sounds completely insane now that I say it out loud, but my heart tells me it might just be true.”

For a moment, Watson considered the proposition. “Like a ghost of love,” she murmured. “Do you think we’ll ever get another visit from her?”

“No,” Tammy said, sensing the truth of her words. “Something tells me she won’t be back. But it doesn’t matter, because Aunt Liz did what she needed to do. We have each other now.”

“Oh, my God, yes.” They came together in an impassioned embrace, Watson burying her face in the woman’s sweet-smelling hair. “I love you, Tammy,” she whispered.

“I… I love you too, Watson.” As she spoke, Tammy allowed her lips to brush the teen’s neck. “Know what I’d like to do right now?”

“Hmm? What’s that?”

“Get better acquainted,” Tammy replied, slipping her leg between Watson’s parted thighs. “When we made love last night, you thought it was Aunt Liz touching you. Now, it’s my turn. I want to hear you call out my name when you come.”

“Oh, yes, Tammy,” Watson moaned.

The two lovers slipped easily into each other’s embrace, as if they had known one another all their lives.

 The End

A brief summary of what has transpired thus far: Katherine is a shy. inexperienced teen girl who is starting over at a new school, after being mercilessly harassed by bullies at the last one. It’s her first time in the cafeteria, and the girl assigned to show Katherine around strongly suggests she avoid one table in particular where four very different girls sit. She calls them “lesbian delinquents,” and a “regular bad girls club,” before abandoning Katherine to her own devices. Desperately needing to take a seat before everyone starts to stare, Katherine somehow finds herself approaching the very table she was warned against. She spends her lunch break with these girls and enjoys it, despite feeling a bit uncertain about the whole sex-with-other-girls thing. 

In the days that follow, Katherine finds herself feeling very much at home in the company of Yolanda, Fiona, Claire and Terri, enough to consider them friends. She still feels like a bit of an outsider, not having tried sex with a girl before… or with anyone, truth be told. Still uncertain about her own sexual preferences, but thinking more and more about other girls, she begins to masturbate on a regular basis. She enjoys touching herself. but has yet to achieve orgasm. What to do?

And now, dear readers, we make our way into the next installment. Read on…

by Mystery Mouse

CHAPTER 3 – Girls Watching Girls

Saturday mornings, freed from the demands of school, Katherine usually took it easy. She’d sleep in, watch TV in her pyjamas with a big bowl of sugary cereal, not bothering to get dressed until close to lunchtime.

Which would explain why, at 10 o’clock on this particular Saturday, she was trying not to yawn. Who gets up and about this early by choice? she grumbled to herself.

She was at school. On Saturday, damn it! Or, more accurately, she was at the small sports hall on the school grounds, which was open to the public outside of school hours and served as a leisure centre of sorts. Katherine wasn’t exactly sure what a leisure center was, and wasn’t about to embarrass herself by asking.

The reason she was there, far earlier in the day than she liked, could be found in the assortment of gymnastic equipment that filled the space. It was all being used by a collection of girls for a variety of exercises she couldn’t follow.

Gymnastics had never been Katherine’s thing. At her previous school, she’d steered well clear of anything that drew the attention of bullies, preferring to spend free time on her own or with her mum, a woman who understood the challenges redheads often face.

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand how gymnastics worked. She just wasn’t interested.

“I like your top. It’s very retro.”

This was Yolanda. She and Katherine were sitting with some other girls on one of two long wooden benches placed along one side of the hall.

Katherine’s first impression of Yolanda had been of somebody whose clothes somehow looked smarter than everybody else’s, even though everyone dressed alike. And that impression still held. Katherine didn’t know much about fashion, but she could tell how well Yolanda’s clothes fit her, and how well they complemented her dark skin. Yolanda always looked good.

By comparison, Katherine felt badly underdressed. She’d deliberately chosen to wear the most inoffensive, generic clothes she possessed. This was the first time her new friends would see her in anything other than a school uniform, and she was determined not to take any chances.

She muttered her thanks, struggling to resist a sudden urge to cross her arms and “accidentally” cover her T-shirt. What’s so retro about it? I only got this shirt a few months ago!

“We shoulda brung popcorn,” came a voice from the bench behind her. “Anybody got snacks?”

“We’re not at the movies,” a second voice replied. “You should have had a proper breakfast.”

“Feck,” the first voice grumbled.

Those voices belonged to Fiona and Claire. That Irish twang and the sarcastic rejoinder couldn’t have come from anyone else.

Since Katherine had first encountered this group, she’d come to a much better understanding of them. She spent every lunch break with the girls and shared some classes with them, though never all at the same time.

Yolanda was clearly the one in charge, the one who told the other girls what to do. They often complained about it, but Katherine noticed that, more times than not, what Yolanda said was what got done. Perhaps because she hosted the big sleepovers where the bulk of the group’s lesbian shenanigans took place. Katherine had heard plenty of stories about the girls’ kinky exploits by this point, and they did nothing at all to ease her sexual frustration.

Fiona was a nice, friendly girl who was more than prepared to hit anybody who crossed her. It wasn’t so much that she had a temper, Katherine realised, as that she wasn’t afraid to stand up for what she believed in. Katherine found that admirable.

She was also intrigued by Fiona’s accent, which seemed to come and go according to the strength of her feelings. When Fiona was particularly annoyed or excited, she was practically incomprehensible.

Claire was an interesting one. Katherine had come to realise that the tall blonde wasn’t as scary as she’d seemed at first. Claire had a dry, sarcastic wit and a razor-sharp tongue. Together, they made the girl seem nastier than she actually was.

Probably.

Nonetheless, Claire was still a bit of a mystery. Katherine didn’t feel like she’d really cracked her yet, but the two got on well enough, a positive step in Katherine’s eyes.

That just left one person in her new group of friends. The short, irrepressible, hyperenergetic ball of chaos that was the reason Katherine was here so early.

“Hey, there she is!” Claire exclaimed, echoing Katherine’s thoughts. She followed the pointing finger and realised with a shock that she wouldn’t have noticed the last member of the foursome if she hadn’t been pointed out.

Terri stood by a large grey mat in the middle of the hall, speaking with an instructor. Her long, jet-black hair was tied into a simple ponytail to reveal a serious, even sober expression on her face. There was no hint of a smile, and she looked almost fragile – so different from her normal demeanour that Katherine understood right away why she’d failed to recognise her at first.

“Feck, she looks nervous,” Fiona observed quietly.

“This is her last one, isn’t it?” Yolanda asked. “After this, it’s the next level?”

“If she does well enough, aye,” Fiona said. “If not, she’ll have t’rethink th’ whole routine. Like, th’ whole feckin’ thing. Not something I’d ever wanna do.”

“No, that’d kill her,” said Yolanda. “She’s been practising for ages.”

“She’s looking for us,” Claire interrupted. “Quick, everybody smile!”

Terri was now on her own, the man she’d been talking to engaged in conversation with someone else. Katherine thought she looked scared, like a little girl lost in the forest in some fairytale, wolves slowly circling her. Certainly not the feisty and enthusiastic sixteen-year-old Katherine had come to know.

But then Terri saw the group waving. Her face lit up, and she was back to her familiar, beaming self.

“Good grief.” Claire murmured. “That smile of hers. I should have brought my sunglasses.”

“How does she do that?” added Fiona. “Ya could power an entire bloody city with that face o’ hers, ya really could.”

“Ladies, please,” Yolanda admonished.

Katherine said nothing. She wasn’t immune to Terri’s megawatt smile, but now that she wasn’t worried so much about her friend’s mood, she began to notice what Terri was wearing. And she felt her pulse start to race.

Honestly, it was nothing out of the ordinary. All the other girls were wearing leotards, too. It was a practical item of clothing for any activity that required free movement of the arms and legs while keeping all the naughty bits hidden from view.

But there was something about the one Terri was wearing. It seemed almost like it was painted on. While the other girls’ leotards were clearly designed to draw attention away from what was underneath, Terri’s seemed to do the exact opposite.

Her breasts, which Katherine noticed only now and then at school, were clearly defined by the taut fabric. Katherine could see exactly how small they were, and she couldn’t help but imagine how they’d feel in her hands.

The material continued over Terri’s flat stomach, hugged her pubic mound, and passed between her legs, cradling her taut bottom to perfection.

Nothing was left to the imagination. Although Katherine couldn’t see through the leotard, she had no difficulty imagining what Terri would look like without it.

To make matters worse, the garment was cut high on the hip. Terri was four-foot-six – a mere one hundred thirty-seven centimetres – positively miniscule, compared to the rest of the girls. But most of that height was in her legs, and Katherine marvelled at how, thanks to the leotard, she could see every square inch of them.

“Are you alright, Katherine?” Yolanda’s voice came as if from far away. Katherine forced herself to tear her eyes away and turn to her neighbour.

“Yeah. Yeah. No, I’m fine.”

“You look a little flushed. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, definitely. Nothing to worry about. Just a little hot, that’s all. It’s kinda warm in here,” Katherine replied, improvising as best she could. “Besides, I’m a redhead. My people blush easily.”

Oh. My. GOD. My people? My PEOPLE? Did I really just say that? And did I have to say it to Yolanda, the one girl in the group most likely to be offended?

But Yolanda, for her part, simply raised an immaculately trimmed eyebrow and glanced back to where Terri was doing some warmup exercises. “Rrrrrright …” she said, dragging the word out in an amused tone.

Now blushing for real, Katherine turned back to face the hall, hoping to bring her colour back under control. As she did so, she glanced at Terri again… only to realise with a shock that her friend wasn’t wearing anything scandalous. It was just a normal leotard – no more, no less. That rush of sexually charged fascination had been nothing more than a figment of Katherine’s imagination. Sure, the garment was close-fitting, but no more so than what any of the other gymnasts were wearing.

What’s wrong with me? I notice Teri has a nice pair of tits, and it turns me into a hot mess! She gave her head a tiny shake, trying to clear it without being noticed. Get it together, girl.

And then the music started. “Shut it,” hissed Fiona. “She’s on!”

Terri stood stock-still at the corner of the mat. Her arms were straight out at her sides as the sound of a stringed instrument filled the hall… a cello? No melody yet, just one long note rising slowly.

As the pitch rose, so did Terri’s arms, and just as her hands were pointing straight up, the note ceased. After a moment of silence, an electric bass throbbed and the tune kicked in. A fast, intense track with a beat that dug into the brain.

Then Terri moved.

Katherine had no idea what to expect. She knew a floor routine involved some rhythmic movement to go along with all the actual gymnastic stuff … but she didn’t see this coming.

Terri was poetry in motion, dancing to the music in ways Katherine barely believed possible. The girl was impossibly lithe. Every step, every jump, every turn was perfect. She was graceful yet sensual and, through it all, incredibly agile. And she’d only just begun!

After a few seconds of the dance, Terri set her sights on the opposite corner of the mat and took off, exploding into a run like a champion greyhound.

As she ran, she fell into a cartwheel that somehow turned into a pair of backflips that saw her flying through the air, twisting as she soared, then deftly landing back on both feet. She posed, steady as a rock, as Katherine’s friends burst into applause.

Katherine did not applaud. She didn’t even think of applauding. In fact, she could barely think at all.

The whole display had taken seconds, but Katherine was blown away. Terri was so fast and nimble that her motions seemed effortless. Then, before it occurred to Katherine that she ought to join in the applause, Terri was off again.

This time, Katherine simply stopped thinking, and for the rest of the performance, allowed the sheer beauty of Terri’s movements to wash over her. The petite, raven-haired girl tumbled and spun. She flipped and rolled. She stretched and bent. She did things with her body that Katherine knew she couldn’t have accomplished in a million years.

All of it was in perfect sync with the music. Every element was in complete control. And it was nothing short of astonishing to watch.

When the routine finally came to a close, Terri bowed to the judges, then boldly strutted out of the hall – to get changed, no doubt. To Katherine, it was as if her friend’s departure signalled the breaking of a magic spell. Her attention had been riveted to Terri during the whole performance. What else could she possibly have watched while that was taking place? Now, with her friend no longer in view, the everyday world snapped back in a rush that left Katherine feeling almost shell-shocked.

Distantly, through the haze, she grew aware that her friends were discussing what they’d seen.

“I mean, I could do that. Y’know, if I wanted.”

“D’you think that was good enough for the judges?”

“Beats me. I have no idea what they look for.”

Getting to her feet, Yolanda brushed some nonexistent dust off her skirt. “Well, we’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed, won’t we?” she said. “C’mon, let’s go meet Terri outside.”

As she rose with the others, Katherine noticed no one else was standing. “Wait… aren’t Terri’s parents here?”

Claire gave a derisive laugh. “Ha! No chance. They don’t exactly get on.”

“But this is a big deal to her, right? I mean, I would’ve thought – ”

“Yeah, but the thing is, the Freeman family is… well, they have problems,” Claire cut in. “It’s kind of a long story. Let’s just say that the day Terri’s mother and father show up at one of these things is the day the world comes to an end.”

Katherine pondered this as they proceeded to the exit. If she’d been the one performing, Mum would have moved Heaven and Earth to be there. She just couldn’t imagine parents showing such indifference to their daughter.

She’d always been grateful to have somebody who loved her as much as her mother did. Mum had even changed jobs and moved to a different town for her daughter, just to get Katherine out of that awful school and away from the bullying she endured there. That’s what parents should be like, she told herself.

Just like that, it occurred to Katherine how lucky she was. Not just to have a great mother, but to have found friends like these girls. Life at her previous school had been such a misery that Katherine sometimes wondered if she’d ever be happy again.

And though Katherine was still uncertain how she felt about her friends’ sexual lifestyle, and there was always the possibility that she would say or do something stupid that would turn them all against her, for the time being she was in a good place. A happy place, even. For once, her future held promise.

And it was all thanks to the four girls she’d shared a table with on her first day here. The ones she’d been warned to avoid. They were the first to invite her to do something outside of school… not because they had to, but because they wanted to.

“Guys,” she said as they were about to head outside, “can we talk for a minute?”

The others exchanged glances. “Um, sure, Kat,” Yolanda said. “What’s up?”

Katherine took a deep breath and, before she had a chance to lose her nerve, began to speak. She told Yolanda, Fiona and Claire, what had happened in her previous school. She told them why she and her mother had moved to another town. Katherine told them about how she’d been bullied, then abandoned by the few acquaintances she had. How lonely she’d been.

She’d kept it to herself for so long. But the girls had made such a difference in her life. They deserved to know that.

When she finished, her cheeks glowing with embarrassment, there was silence.

Then Fiona stepped forward and put a hand on Katherine’s shoulder. “Kat,” she said, looking her dead in the eye, “if anybody, an’ I mean anybody, ever treats ya like that again, let me know. An’ I will beat … th’ ever-lovin’ … shite outta them.”

Claire and Yolanda added murmurs of agreement.

Katherine didn’t trust herself to speak. In fact, she felt emotionally exhausted. This morning had been an emotional roller-coaster, and she was wiped.

“Come on,” said Yolanda after pausing for a moment to let Katherine recover. “Terri’s waiting.”

But Terri wasn’t waiting. She was nowhere to be seen.

“Of course,” Claire said, shaking her head, “she probably has to get showered and all that first.”

This took Katherine by surprise. From what she understood, Claire and Terri had spent most of their childhoods together. Surely Claire would know how long they needed to wait.

“Haven’t you been to one of these before?” she asked.

Claire shrugged. “Not for a while. This was always T’s thing, not mine. She’s the fitness junkie. I like my morning lie-ins too much.”

“It works, though,” Fiona interjected. “That was really good. Best floor routine I seen in ages.”

“Oh?” Once again, Katherine was surprised. Fiona hadn’t ever expressed an interest in gymnastics. “You follow this stuff?”

“Pretty girls in wee leotards,” Fiona answered with a shrug, as if that was all she needed to say. Which it probably was.

“There’s Terri,” Yolanda announced.

Terri was indeed approaching. And with good news. “I passed! Nearly perfect scores!” she declared excitedly as soon as she was within range.

Katherine tried to join in as the others eagerly congratulated Terri. She did her best, but she was aware of how self-conscious it made her.

Fiona, on the other hand, squealed with excitement and rushed to wrap Terri up in a giant hug. Fiona wasn’t that big a girl, but Terri was so small it didn’t matter – big hugs automatically became giant ones.

“Does this mean you’ve gone up a level?” Katherine asked, remembering the conversation from earlier.

Terri’s face was lost in the depths of Fiona’s curly hair, but she must have heard the question.

“Yup! Gettin’ a certificate an’ all.” came the muffled reply.

“Great. That’s very cool. Very cool.”

Katherine couldn’t think of anything else to say. She was happy for Terri, sure, but didn’t know what else to do about it. She certainly didn’t feel like she could get away with offering a hug of her own.

“So what do we do now?” Claire asked once Terri had been released. “It’s not even eleven o’clock yet.”

“I need to do some clothes shoppin’, I think.” Terri replied. “The elastic on these things is pretty much gone. Look.”

With that, she lifted her top to just above her belly button, exposing her midriff and showing just how low her sweatpants were.

“For goodness sakes, Terri,” exclaimed Yolanda, who was standing behind her. “Do you always have to go without underwear? I’m looking at a good few inches of butt crack here.”

Terri blinked innocently. “See what I mean? If I don’t get new ones soon, I’m gonna end up flashin’ everyone.”

“You could always just wear knickers occasionally,” Claire suggested. “You never know, you might actually come to like it. And then you can do it every day like a normal person.”

Katherine didn’t comment. The sight of Terri’s bare belly had unwanted thoughts whirling through her mind again.

“Can we get some lunch while we’re in town?” Fiona asked. “I’m starvin’.”

Yolanda nodded in agreement. “Sure, we could eat. Are you joining us, Katherine?”

Katherine panicked. She had just been able to convince herself to come out this morning. At least this was technically in school. But hanging out with people in an unfamiliar town centre for an unknown length of time? What if something happened? What if she ended up embarrassing herself? What if the girls realised they didn’t actually like her at all and left her there?

She couldn’t. It was too much. “Ooh, I would, but I promised I’d help my mum with the housework,” she lied. “Sorry.”

“Oh. That’s not a problem. Next time, maybe?” Yolanda replied with a smile that seemed a bit too knowing for Katherine’s liking.

She nodded and, after saying their goodbyes, the girls walked away.

She heard a quick snippet of conversation. “Hey, I realised somethin’. This right here is our first official club outing.”

“We are not a club.”

… and then they were gone.

Katherine heaved a sigh, then set off on the trek home. At least she hadn’t been completely untruthful. There was housework to be done, but she hadn’t promised to help with it. Still, the fact that she’d lied so easily to her friends bothered her.

For the rest of the day she felt a mix of guilt and annoyance. But there was one other thing that unsettled her much more. Try as she might, Katherine could not stop thinking about Terri in that snug leotard, especially now she knew that the girl had been stark naked underneath. When Terri pulled up her top, the sight of that cute tummy had affected Katherine in a big way. There was no denying the arousal she’d felt at that moment.

Could that be because all her friends were into other girls? Katherine was still a virgin, and intensely curious about the act of physical love. Her friends had already done it… with each other, even. If they were constantly thinking about and discussing lesbian sex, it’s no surprise that she’d be thinking about it too.

Or was there more to it? Could she actually be gay herself? Katherine remembered how she’d pictured herself cupping Terri’s breasts through her leotard. Would a straight girl even have thoughts like that?

Maybe I like girls AND boys, she told herself. Guess I should try figuring that out.  

Determined to unravel the riddle of her sexuality, Katherine said goodnight to her mother and went to bed early. She was tired, yes, but she wasn’t intending to sleep anytime soon.

The bedroom door securely closed, she stripped naked, then slipped into an extra-large Simple Minds t-shirt she’d been gifted last Christmas by a well-intentioned but culturally clueless aunt. Rummaging through a desk drawer, she emerged with a glossy teen mag Mum had bought for her a few months earlier. She thumbed through the pages to find the image she wanted: a shirtless male model, posing on a beach next to a cute blonde girl in a skimpy bikini.

Sliding beneath the blanket, Katherine folded the page down to remove the girl from the shot, then propped the magazine against a pillow. She hoisted the t-shirt up to just below her chest and began to masturbate, picturing herself in the man’s strong arms. His body firm against mine, breathing in the scent of his skin as he nibbles my ear…

It was pleasant enough, but nothing like the surge of warmth she experienced while watching Terri move. Still, Katherine refused to throw in the towel so easily. She imagined the man stripping off for her, moving his body in a lewd, slow dance. He’s taking down those Speedos, showing off what he has…

Nothing. Oh, sure, touching herself was nice… still, no matter how handsome he was, Katherine found the image of a naked man far more interesting than arousing. She was intrigued by the prospect of seeing an erect penis, but the thought of reaching out to touch it held no appeal whatsoever.

With a sigh, Katherine sat up. Okay, let’s try it this way. She folded the magazine page again, so only the girl in the skimpy bathing suit could be seen, they lay back and began to fondle herself again.

It was better, and she felt a stronger attraction to the girl, to the point of wondering what it would be like to kiss that pretty mouth, maybe hold her while they were both nude.

But I don’t even know her, Katherine thought. Why would I want to fool around with a stranger?  

Just then, the memory of Terri in her skintight leotard flashed through Katherine’s head like summer lightning. She shivered, that yummy warm sensation from earlier making itself felt all over again.

Fine. If that’s what I need to get excited, so be it. Let’s do this.

Impatiently sweeping the teen mag to the floor, Katherine began to touch herself for the third time. She pictured Terri standing at the foot of the bed, wearing that dazzling smile as she slowly peeled down the leotard to bare her breasts.

This time Katherine’s fingers seemed to summon up magic, complete with cascading stars and spinning moons. Now she imagined Terri stripping off completely, posing nude for a moment before joining her in bed.

Katherine wasn’t ready to fantasise about having actual lesbian sex… it just seemed like going too far. So instead, she had her petite friend lie down by her side to masturbate, just like she was.

The image only spurred Katherine’s excitement. In her mind, Terri was close enough for their bodies to touch, humming contentedly as she pleasured herself. I could kiss her, Katherine thought. Bet she’d like that. 

She was caught up in this naughty scenario, her touches feeling nicer than ever. Maybe this time, she thought, already anticipating her first orgasm; how good it would be.

But even then, Katherine still couldn’t make herself come. Again and again, she skirted the cliff’s edge, and each time, her body failed to go that extra inch. Not even when she imagined a naked Terri lying next to her, doing the same thing she was.

Eventually, exhausted and frustrated, she turned onto her side with a despairing sob. Damn it all… why can’t I do this? Is something wrong with me?

She gave a heavy sigh. At least I got closer this time. I’ll have to try again some other night. 

After a few minutes, Katherine managed to relax… then she drifted into a restless slumber.

As she dozed fitfully, caught up in bizarre and confused dreams, Katherine had no idea that something she’d done that morning had started a ball rolling. A ball that was about to knock over everything that stood between her and the pleasure she longed for so desperately.

Soon to come: Chapter Four!

Introduction from JetBoy: It’s been too long since we’ve had a new book from the life of nineteenth-century Texas Ranger The Tequila Kid, that lesbian agent of the law who made the Wild West a lot wilder. Well, good people… Purple Les has produced the goods, so your wait is over. Do enjoy.

 

by Purple Les

It was my little sister Amy who saw the rider first. I was in the barn looking for eggs from our last three laying hens. We’d lost just about almost everything, like the rest of the ranchers and homesteaders who lived around us.

First the night riders killed our plowing ox and our milk cow. They killed our two horses, then trampled our crops. We’d only just planted, Pa fought as best he could to stop them, but they gunned him down. 

My heart still ached from missing Pa. Losing our horses busted me up almost as bad.

So there I was, looking for eggs in our big barn that was mostly empty. We had lots of hay left cause we didn’t have any animals left to feed it to.

My little sister Amy was supposed to be helping me look for eggs. But she wandered off like she always did. I didn’t care. I liked being alone sometimes so I didn’t have to keep pretending to be brave. Being a few years older than Amy, I tried to look after her as best I could. 

I found an egg for the basket, but almost dropped it cause my fingers were so cold.

Anyway, I knew where Amy was. She’d sit on the gate and play her harmonica. I could hear her cause the barn door was open. Pa gave the harmonica to her one day after he went to town, and she learned to play it right quick. 

She was good at it too. She was just seven going on eight, but she could play Swanee River, Hark the Harold Angels Sing, and Joy To The World. She’d been playing those last two a lot cause Christmas was coming soon.

Well I heard her stop right in the middle of playing. She come running in to the barn yelling out, ‘Cindy! There’s a rider coming!’

I told her to get Ma, then I ran to the corral fence near the gate. Ma always told us to keep an eye out for riders, specially ones coming from the west. That’s the direction Mr Fletcher’s place was from ours. His place had been burnt down just last week. We could see the fire from our place even though he lived more than a mile away. Ma ran over there but by the time she got there it was all gone.

She’d found Mr Fletcher outside shot dead. Ma and some other neighbors found his wife and kids inside burned up in the rubble afterwards. That’s when she told us to watch out for riders. We were mighty sorry to have lost the Fletchers. They were good people to have for neighbors.

My heart was pounding hard when I watched this rider getting close with the dark gray sky behind. Ma came up next to me. She had the Winchester with her and it was already cocked. I saw Amy standing by the doorway to the house. Ma told me ‘Get over there with your sister,’ but by then the rider was too close and I was scared to move. I stood behind Ma, looking around her so I could see.

It was one rider on a nice looking Appaloosa horse. I thought it was a young man at first. But as they drew close riding slow I could see it was a woman. Even with the heavy sheepskin coat on you could tell.

Ma held the rifle tight and had it half raised up to show she meant business. The woman stopped near the gate, looked at Ma and tipped the brim of her hat. ‘My apologies for riding up on your property, ma’am.’ She sat calm on her horse with one hand holding the reins and the other hand on the saddle horn. The rider saw me peeking out from behind Ma and smiled. 

I could see her good now. She wore dungarees tucked in to beat up looking boots. She had on a Stetson hat, and under the brim was the bluest looking eyes I ever did see. Like looking at the sky on a warm spring day they was so blue.

On her chin she had these blue lines, like a tattoo that I’d seen one time on an Indian that came in to town once. She didn’t look like no Indian though, except for them tattoos.

Ma saw her looking at me and she said, ‘You get in the house now, Cindy.’ I started walking to the house backwards and slow cause I wanted to see what was going to happen. The rider closed and opened her eyes real slow, still looking at me.

Something in her face seemed to say ‘Do what your Ma says, but there’s no need to be afraid of me.’

The rider unbuttoned her coat, and I could see she had a six shooter on each hip. Ma held the rifle up higher and yelled ‘Cindy, get in the house like I said! You too, Amy!’ I’ll never figure how Ma always knows just what me and Amy are doing without even looking at us.

Me and Amy did as Ma told us to, but we went straight to the window to watch. We saw Ma and the rider having a talk, but couldn’t hear none of it. 

***

The rider dug through her vest pockets and, finding what she wanted, held up a tarnished badge.

The woman holding the rifle squinted at it, then frowned. “You expect me to believe you’re a Texas Ranger?”

The rider kept a blank face and answered, “Reckon not, ma’am.” Fumbling around in her pockets again, she produced an old grimy envelope. Holding it out she asked, “Do you read?”

The woman with the rifle cautiously took the envelope, opened it and took out a battered piece of paper. She read it, occasionally glancing up at the rider. Nodding to herself, she handed the envelope and paper back to the rider. “So you’re The Tequila Kid.”

“Yes’m,” The Kid replied.

Releasing the hammer on the rifle, the woman lowered the barrel and said, “Reckon you can climb down and water your horse if you’re of a mind to.”

“Much obliged, ma’am,” The Kid said. She slowly dismounted, then opened the gate, leading her horse through before closing it behind. Bringing the horse to the trough, The Kid used the heel of her boot to break through the crust of ice that had formed atop the water. The horse moved in to take a long drink.

Turning back to the woman, The Kid said, “Y’see, ma’am, I stopped first to the Fletcher place and found it burnt down, with a line of graves nearby. You appear to be their closest neighbor.” She reached for her canteen, detaching it from the saddle, then approached the trough.

“No need to get water from there,” the woman said. “It’ll do for your horse, but there’s a pump in the house.”

“That’s right kind of you, ma’am. So… did you know the Fletchers well?“

The woman’s mouth tightened. “Well enough to know Bob Fletcher sent a letter to Austin asking the Rangers for help. That was six months ago. No one knew for sure if it ever got there,” the woman with the rifle said, a bitterness in her voice.

“Yes, ma’am,” The Kid said softly. “Truth be told, they sent a Ranger two months ago. He weren’t never heard from again. I’m here to find out what happened to him, then do what I can to get this mess cleaned up.”

The woman with the rifle looked The Kid up and down, then shook her head. “Well, you look like you’d live up to all the stories I’ve heard about you, ‘cept you look mighty young for ‘em all to be true. I reckon it ain’t your own fault that you’ve come when it’s too late.”

The Kid’s eyes were focused on a grave marker across the way, near an oak tree. “Anything you can tell me about all this will maybe keep it from being too late for a lot of other folks, ma’am.”

The woman with the rifle followed The Kid’s gaze. “That’s my husband’s grave. Been dead ‘bout five months now. McCuller sent a gunman here.”

“That’d be Ben McCuller, ma’am? The one Fletcher wrote about to the Rangers?”

The woman looked at The Kid with weary eyes, but her voice was sharp. “Yes, that’s right. And my name ain’t ‘ma’am.’ You can call me Sarah.”

“Yes, ma…” The Kid paused, cleared her throat and continued. “Pleased to meet you, Sarah.”

Sarah looked around and said, “If you care to take your horse to the barn, there’s more hay than we know what to do with. Then come to the house and we’ll have us a talk.”

“Much obliged,” The Kid murmured as she led Button to the barn, glancing up at the dark sky.

In the barn, The Kid climbed a ladder into the loft and threw some hay down to the floor. Coming back down, she took off her horse’s bridle and loosened the saddle cinch. “You eat up and rest a spell, Button. Somethin’ tells me we still got a lot of ridin’ to do.”

The Kid joined Sarah, who was still standing in the yard, lost in thought and looking westward. Without a word, Sarah turned away and made her way toward the house, The Kid close behind.

Taking off her hat, The Kid glanced around. The inside didn’t feel very different from the outside, except it was darker and there was no wind blowing. It was very much like what she’d seen at the house she’d stopped at before seeking out the charred ruins of Bob Fletcher’s home. A handful of embers glowed in the fireplace, but the house was stone cold. There was a good quality stove in the kitchen area, along with a hand pump and sink. She saw there were two bedrooms, one for the girls, one for Sarah.

This place must have been really nice here before those damn raiders came. The Kid told herself. She noticed that the good china was stacked on the floor. Had to use the server for firewood, I’ll wager. The house was clean and well kept, but what The Kid noticed most was the emptiness of poverty.

She tried not to dwell on the thin, hollow-cheeked faces of Sarah and her two girls. Gettin’ starved out, just like the other family I met.

Placing the Winchester in its rack over the hearth, Sarah said, “These are my daughters Cindy and Amy. Girls, this is the Tequila Kid. She’s with the Texas Rangers, here trying to help us.”

The girls’ eyes widened. It seemed that they too had heard tales of The Kid’s adventures.

“You have a beautiful horse,” the eldest daughter said, speaking so softly she could scarcely be heard.

Breaking into a smile, The Kid said, “Her name’s Button. If you girls want to go to the barn and talk to her and pet her, that would be fine with me. Me and your ma are just gonna jaw a little bit.”

Cindy went from bashful to thrilled in an instant. “Can we, Ma?”

“It’s may we, and yes, you may,” Sarah said. “Just don’t touch The Kid’s gear or try to ride her mount, you hear me?”

“Yes, Ma,” both girls cried as they rushed out the door, slamming it shut behind them.

“Have a seat,” Sarah said as she pulled a chair out for herself at the table, gathering the man’s coat she wore tightly around herself. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything. Our larder’s pretty much bare.”

Seating herself, The Kid hesitantly spoke. “I stopped at a ranch before I seen what was left of the Fletcher place. The Vale family, it was. They told me some about what’s happened ‘round here. I reckon that letter Bob Fletcher sent says it all. If there’s anything you could tell, it might be of help. Like what happened here, if you’re up to it.”

Sarah seemed to be looking somewhere far away when she began to speak. “Ever hear of Eric Jax, Kid?”

The Kid slowly nodded. “I sure have. Heard tell he used to be the fastest gun in these parts. Not a killer, though, ‘cept in self-defense. He’s not been seen for a long spell, and no one seems to know what happened to him. He’s the one that gunned your husband down? That don’t square with what they tell of the man.”

A single tear rolled down Sarah’s cheek as she answered, “Eric Jax was my husband.”

The Kid raised an eyebrow, and Sarah continued. “I met Eric about eleven years ago. I was about your age, I reckon. Aside from havin’ to contend with young blowhards gunnin’ for him cause he was so quick on the draw, he was a good, peaceful man. I didn’t know at first about him being a shootist. And when he told me, it didn’t matter any more. He was fun and I liked him, and when I found out I was carrying his child he couldn’t of been happier.

“He put his guns away once we got married, then changed his last name to Miller. We left Kansas and settled here. He built a nice ranch for us. We was happy and doin’ well, just like the others who come along later.

“Ben McCuller was doing good too. He had the biggest spread in these parts. But he wanted more. Hell, he wanted it all. He started by buying off the sheriff. Lucas Clay, that’s his name, crooked as a rattlesnake’s trail. Don’t count on him to give you a helpin’ hand.

“No one knew at first why the ranchers closest to McCuller sold out and moved on. But little by little, he became more bold about takin’ over the other ranches and farms. Oh, he’d offer to buy at first, but not anything close to what the property was worth. Naturally, folks refused to sell.

“That was when he started havin’ night raids. Killed off our livestock, trampled the crops. The sheriff claims it’s all the doin’ of outlaws, and nothin’ at all to do with McCuller.” She gave a heavy sigh. “He means to starve us out. Won’t even let the town folk sell us supplies.” Sarah was staring at the floor, “We can’t afford none anyhow.”

She fell silent for a moment, then added, “Somehow, McCuller found out about the letter Fletcher sent, askin’ for help. Well, you see where we’re at now.”

“I understand Fletcher said in his letter that he had some sort of evidence. Did he tell you what or where it was?” The Kid asked.

“Not for sure. Rumor was, Fletcher had land deeds that proved some sort of crooked doings between McCuller, Sheriff Clay and the banker. Well, if they were in Bob’s house, they’re ashes now. So all that’s left is for McCuller to run the rest of us off. Makes it seem legal-like, but it ain’t. Not that it matters. The sheriff is no more’n an errand boy, damn his hide.”

The Kid shook her head, brooding. After a moment, she spoke again “Any idea who McCuller hired to shoot your husband?”

Sarah leveled her brown eyes at The Kid. “Ever heard of Kid Coley?”

The Tequila Kid gave a short nod, her jaw tightening slightly. “I have.”

“McCuller hired him to do the killing.” Sarah gripped the table’s edge with one hand, her knuckles white. “He came here. Goaded Eric into putting his gun on. Eric hadn’t worn a gun since we married. Coley shot my man stone dead, then had the gall to take the gold watch I’d gived him for our anniversary.”

“How’d Coley get away with it?”

“That’s the worst part,” Sarah muttered, a tremor in her voice. “Me and the girls had to admit that Eric drew his gun first. But it weren’t that way, even if it was true! Kid Coley claimed he was only…”

Placing her hand on Sarah’s, The Kid said, “I understand. Coley gets himself hired by a greedy scum like McCuller, then does the murder making it seem like self-defense. And when the sheriff’s in on it… well, let’s just say that justice ain’t served.”

They sat in silence for a moment, then The Kid slowly stood. “Reckon I best move on now.”

As they stepped outside Sarah looked at the sky and said, “You’re welcome to bunk down with us tonight. We all sleep in my bed to stay warm, so the girls’ room is yours, if you like.”

The Kid studied the sky. “Much obliged. But I got a lot to get done. If I set out now, I’ll have a chance of gettin’ to town before the rain.”

Sarah walked with The Kid to the barn, where they found the girls petting Button’s nose and talking to her.

“She’s the finest horse I ever did see,” Cindy said with Amy quickly agreeing.

“Now don’t be giving Button a swelled head, girls,” The Kid said as she put the bridle back on and tightened the saddle cinch. “She thinks she’s in charge of things as it is.”

The children laughed at that, and Button raised her head up and down as if nodding ‘yes’, she was the brains of the two. The Kid brought Button to the trough for one last drink, and Amy ran into the house. Sarah and Cindy went back to the barn to look for more eggs, and Amy came out as The Kid was about to mount up.

“Please take this, Kid,” Amy said, extending her hands. The girl held a green apple and an egg. “The egg’s hard-boiled… it’s for you. The apple’s for Button,” Amy explained.

The Kid squatted down and said, “Much obliged.” Taking the gifts from Amy’s hands, she stuffed them in her coat pockets. Turning away, she opened her saddle bag.

As The Kid dug through the bag’s contents she said, “I do love me a hard-boiled egg. And Button loves apples. She ain’t had one in a long while. So let me give you a little somethin’ in return. I’ll be gettin’ fresh grub in town, so I’d be grateful if you’d give this stuff to your Ma for me.”

The Kid loaded Amy’s arms up with her supplies. “Take this in the house now, ‘fore your Ma comes out of the barn. She’d be too proud to take it from me, I reckon.”

With that, she walked Button out through the open gate, closed it behind, then mounted up and rode off.

***

I almost dropped the egg basket when me and Ma came back in the house. Ma’s mouth hung open as she looked at the table. It looked like a feast to me. There was dried beans, and beans in a can. There was bacon and flour and coffee and salt.

Amy said to us she’d give The Kid an egg and apple and The Kid give us this food in return. Me and Amy was happy as could be. I don’t know why, but Ma sat down looking at it and cried.

***

The Tequila Kid might have beaten the rain if she’d gone straight to town. Instead she’d headed back to the Fletcher ranch to poke around the burnt remains of the house. She looked about, trying to picture the house as it had been, occasionally poking through the rubble.

Button snorted as the first cold hard drops of rain fell. “Just a little longer, girl,” The Kid called.

Upon finding the ruins of the fireplace and chimney, The Kid knelt down to feel her way around the hearth, which remained intact. Moving forward, she began to explore the rear of the chimney.

One of the large adobe bricks had a slight depression at each end. “I’ll be damned,” she whispered, a grin appearing on her face. Slipping her index finger into these hollows, she gave a hard tug… and the brick emerged about half an inch. Another three tugs and it pulled free.

Reaching inside the rectangular opening, The Kid withdrew a padlocked steel box. “Son of a bitch,” she murmured. “Just the same way Thumper Jones done it.”

She picked up a stone and raised it, breaking the padlock with one sharp blow. Nestled inside was a small stack of documents. These The Kid tucked into her vest. Taking a scrap of paper from her pocket, she put a stub of pencil to it, scratching out a few quick lines. She put that piece of paper in the box and closed the lid, then used the stone to hammer the box until it was jammed shut. Now it would have to be broken before anyone could get inside. Satisfied with her work, The Kid slid the box back into its cubbyhole before carefully replacing the brick.

The rain was falling steadily, so The Kid took her yellow slicker off from around the bed roll and put it on. She hoisted herself into the saddle and got Button going at a fast walk toward the town. From a ridge road on the hill, she glanced down at Sarah’s place in the distance as they went past.

As the rain came down harder and colder, The Kid began to wish she’d holed up there after all. At least they’ll have something hot in their bellies tonight. Cheered by that thought, The Kid headed Button toward the town of Helena.

***

Me and Ma broke up one of the rails from the corral fence and used it for firewood. It’s not like we needed it any more. Ma made a small fire and we heated up the can of beans. We all shared that, and it sure was a fine meal.

While we watched the small fire burn down, Ma said she’d save the rest of the wood for morning to use in the stove. She got me hungry all over again saying how she’d fix us a real breakfast. Said she’d make bacon and eggs and biscuits and coffee.

Then we did what we’d been doing lately. We took off our coats and laid ‘em over Ma’s bed for extra cover. Then we took off our boots and got under the covers. Ma blew the light out and we lay together in our clothes. Ma would tell us stories and wait for us to fall asleep.

I was in the middle between Amy and Ma. I wasn’t asleep yet, just trying to get there. I felt Ma move around to get comfortable and her hand was resting on my back side.

It made me think back to last summer. Us girls had been swimming down at Turkey Creek. Me and Amy and the Fletcher girls and a few others. We always swam bare. No one minded, long as no boys were around.

But this one time Maude Fletcher who’d just turned twelve took me round the bend and asked if I’d let her kiss me. I didn’t know nothin’ about kissing, but she sure taught me how. Well, we put our lips together for a second and giggled, then we did it for longer. It was a nice special secret for us. 

Maude asked me to lay down with her in the grass, and we kissed some more. Then she began kissing me different, sliding her tongue in my mouth. I did it to her the same way, and she rolled on to her back and pulled me on top of her.

Then Maude surprised me by grabbing my backside and hugging me to her till our girl parts were rubbing together. I’d never felt anything so nice before, and I guess we did that for a long spell until it was so good we had to stop. Maude told me she did it with her sister Tilly and asked me if I ever tried anything like that with Amy. I told her I hadn’t but she sure had me thinking about it. I always did like seeing my sister naked in the wash tub or when we got ready for bed and such. It made me wonder if Amy would let me kiss her that special way.

Me and Maude felt mighty relaxed now. We lay on our bellies holding hands and smiling at each other. That was when Amy found us. She was with Maude’s little sister Tilly, who was my age. Like us, they was naked.

Tilly said right away that me and Maude had been up to some kind of devilment, and we ought to be spanked for it. So they set about lightly paddling our bare backsides with their hands and laughing, thinking it was great sport. Well, me and Maude both jumped, grabbed our sisters and started doing that to them. They weren’t so high and mighty then! Soon they were begging us to stop, so we called a truce. 

By then we were all flushed and giggly. Tilly told Amy that she figured me and Maude had been kissing. Amy didn’t believe her, but Maude told her it was true. Then Tilly asked Amy if she wanted to know what it felt like, getting kissed. Amy thought about it and said she wouldn’t mind. 

So me and Maude watched as Tilly showed my little sister how to kiss with her tongues, just like Maude had done for me. They were pushing themselves together while they kissed, and Tilly was touching Amy’s bottom. I reckoned by the look on their faces that they was feeling the same things me and Maude did. 

After that we sat together in the sun not saying much, kissing each other every now and then. Sometimes Maude and Tilly kissed, which got me thinking about doing that with Amy. I wondered again if she would let me. I also thought about what it would be like to lie on her with our girl parts touching, the way I did it with Maude, and asked myself if that was bad for us to do. I decided it couldn’t be wrong if we love each other. 

While I was having those thoughts, little Mindy Cooper came round and said everyone else had headed home. She asked what we’d been doing, but Maude told her we’d just been talking.

After that, me and Amy went home too. We didn’t say much, but we did hold hands most of the way. 

After that time, me and Amy would kiss when ever we were alone together, mostly at night and in bed. We also liked to lift up our nightgowns to look at each other with nothing on. Sometimes I’d touch her girl parts to get that nice feeling, and she’d touch me the same way. If we got really excited, we’d take our nightgowns all the way off and take turns lying on top of each other with our bodies rubbing together. 

We hadn’t done that for a spell, though. Not since it got so cold that the three of us had to sleep in Ma’s bed so as to keep warm. Snuggling with Ma was real nice, but I missed the things me and Amy did.  

All those thoughts were going through my head as I lay in bed with Ma’s hand resting on my backside. I was wearing all my clothes, but it still felt good to have her touch me that way, even if she weren’t doing it on purpose. 

Then I started thinking about that summer day, how good it had been. It made me all of sudden sad that Maude and Tilly and all the rest of their family was gone forever. I tried not to cry, but I couldn’t help it.

Ma woke up. She held me and asked what was wrong. I told her I was scared we’d be burned alive like the Fletcher family. Ma held me tight and told me not to worry none, that we’d be okay. Said that Tequila Kid would put things right. But she didn’t sound like she much believed it herself. I wanted to believe, but I’d never heard tell of a girl Texas Ranger before. 

She did have a kind heart, that Tequila Kid. Something else I noticed, how she looked at me the same as Maude did that time at the creek. Would she want to kiss me that special way? 

It took me a long time to fall asleep, but at last I did.

***

The rain blew sideways and directly into the faces of The Tequila Kid and Button, so cold it felt like tiny daggers stinging The Kid’s face and eyes. Squinting into the storm, The Kid made out dark shapes ahead, as well as dots of light. Reckon I found Helena, she told herself.

She slowly advanced into the town. A torrent of water was running through the street, enough to reach over Button’s ankles as the horse trudged through the thick, icy mud, her nostrils sending clouds of mist into the night air.

Finding the livery stable at last The Kid dismounted, but her left boot, the one with the hole in the bottom,  went right into a deep puddle. “Shit,” she muttered, then shouldered the small inner door open.

An wizened old man sat near a lantern, glancing up from a checkerboard.

“Howdy,” The Kid said. “Got room for a horse?”

With a gap-toothed grin, the man stood up, saying, “Barely.” He sauntered over to throw open the big door. The Kid led Button in and the old man closed the door with a hard shove. Inside, it was warm and dry inside and the wind and rain could barely be heard.

“Well, now, that is one fine lookin’ horse,” the man said. “The name’s Abner Ancien, an’ I runs this stable. It’s a dollar a day, includin’ feed and water.” He gave a snort of laughter. “Good timin’ on your part. I ain’t got but one stall left. This weather has ever’one comin’ in off the trail.”

“Much obliged,” The Kid said as she accompanied Abner to the stall. Withdrawing two dollar coins from her pocket, she dropped them in Abner’s palm. “I’d like to make sure I got me a place for another night if I need it, Mr Ancien.”

“Just call me Abner. We ain’t formal round here.” The old man watched as The Kid took her gear off the horse and hung it on the side of the stall.

The Kid shrugged out of her slicker and sheepskin coat, then draped them over the stall wall to dry. “Nice and warm in here. Feels mighty good after ridin’ through that damn downpour.” She took a brush and curry comb from her saddle bags.

As The Kid groomed Button, Abner said, “Well, all these horses put off a lot of heat. I keeps the walls well mended, pluggin’ up the chinks if I find any. Means it’s cool when it’s hot and warm when it’s cold.”

“There any place to stay in this town, Abner?”

“Well, there’s a few,” Abner said as he scratched his chin. “But they’s more full up than my stable. I heard tell folks are sleepin’ three to a bed, ever’thin’s so full up.”

“Mind if sleep here in the stall?” The Kid asked.

Abner looked The Kid over and said, “Naw. Naw, I couldn’t let a lady sleep in a stall. If you’d like, though, you can stay up in the hayloft. There’s a rope ladder you can pull up behind. Be real private. I’ve offered it to folks before, but I guess no one wants to smell horse shit where they sleep.”

The Kid laughed. “Hell, I’d prefer the smell of horse shit over the stink of too many people close together.”

“True enough,” Abner said. The Kid was rubbing Button’s legs up and down to get them warmed back up. Once she’d finished, Abner offered her a horse blanket which The Kid draped over Button.

Abner gestured toward the checkerboard. “Play a game?”

“Sure,” The Kid answered.

“I got to warn you, I’m the best at checkers in town. Never been beat,” Abner said, seating himself at the board.

Pulling up an old crate, The Kid took a seat on the other side. Spying a folded newspaper lying nearby, she pointed at it. “You done with that paper?”

“Well, I was gonna put it out in the privy,” Abner replied. “But you can read it first if you’re of a mind to. I got yesterday’s paper, if you’re lookin’ to get the latest news.”

“Naw, this one will do me just fine.”

Abner looked on as Kid ripped the front page off and folded it into a small square. Removing her boot, she stuffed the folded paper into her boot, centering it over the hole. Satisfied with her handiwork, The Kid took off the other boot, then went to her saddle bag for a pair of dry socks. She paused to drape the wet socks over the rail, then sat back down on the crate to put her socks and boots back on.

“Go see Ed Sharp if you’re lookin’ to get that boot fixed for real. Best cobbler in Helena,” said Abner. He reached underneath his chair and produced an earthenware jug. He uncorked it, then took a deep swig of its contents.

“Applejack,” he announced, passing the jug over to The Kid. “Warms up your innards right nice.”

The Kid took a long slug as Abner pushed a checker on the board.

“You’re a tight lipped man, Abner,” The Kid said, making a move of her own.

Studying the board, Abner said, “I found out a long time ago not to ask too many questions.” He moved a piece. “If someone wants to tell me something about themselves, fine and dandy. But I don’t poke my nose in nowhere. Many a man’s dug his own grave by bein’ a mite too curious at the wrong time.” He watched The Kid make a move. “Sure you want to move there?”

“Yep,” The Kid answered. Abner jumped her checker and took it off the board with a pleased smile.

Placing one finger on a checker, The Kid said, “Couple months back, a tall dark-haired man wearin’ buckskins and a hat that was white a long time ago may have come through, ridin’ a black stallion. Recall anyone fittin’ that description?” She slid the checker forward.

“Sure you want to move there?” Abner asked. He watched The Kid nod yes, then he jumped her man. “I recall that feller, sure. Told me he was a Texas Ranger, name of Clark Hansen. Fine looking horse he had, a real fine animal. I gived him directions out to the McCuller place.”

“Then what?” The Kid asked, moving a piece.

“You sure ’bout that move?” Abner asked. The Kid nodded, then Abner jumped it and took it off the board. “Then nothin’. Never saw hair nor hide of him after that. Did notice the horse a few times, though. Cy Warren was ridin’ him.”

“Who’s he?” The Kid asked as Abner made his move.

“Ben McCuller’s new foreman, and a mighty bad sort. McCuller fired his real workin’ crew a spell ago and hired on a gang of toughs to replace ‘em.”

A few moves later, The Kid got a piece to the other end of the board. “King me.”

Abner crowned the checker, then made a move. The game continued in silence for a couple of minutes. “What about the sheriff here?” The Kid asked. “Wouldn’t he have somethin’ to say about a Texas Ranger disappearin’ into thin air… and another man ridin’ his horse?”

The old man’s eyes lit up. “Well, now…” he began, but was interrupted by the door opening and closing again. Looking up, he dropped his checker, startled. “Why, evenin’, Sheriff Clay.” Quickly reaching down for the checker, he put it back on the board, then made his move.

“Abner, you ugly old coot… who or what is this?” Sheriff Clay asked the old man while staring at The Kid.

The sheriff was about six foot tall, his hefty frame covered by a yellow rain slicker. He wore black boots with silver spurs and a soaked black Stetson hat. His face was clean shaven, except for waxed handlebar mustache, also black. His brown eyes had a cruel glint to them.

“Just a traveler come out of the rain, Sheriff,” Abner hastily answered.

The old man looked back at the board to see The Kid move her king piece, jumping each of Abner’s men from one side to the other and back again, clearing the board.

Abner stared, dumbfounded. “Well, I’ll be switched!” He looked up at The Kid. “Where in tarnation did you learn how to play that good?”

“Oh, I learnt it from a French woman who took me in for a spell,” The Kid said as she stood up.

Abner gave a shaky laugh, still studying the board as he scratched his head. “If that don’t beat all!” He got to his feet. “Well, you won fair and square.” He extended a hand, and they shook. Pointing at the board, he added, “How ‘bout a rematch?”

“Shut the hell up, Abner,” Sheriff Clay growled. He took a step toward The Kid. “I don’t allow no one to wear guns in my town, man or woman. Take ’em off.”

The Kid turned to the man, her eyes half closed and took out her badge. “I’m the Tequila Kid, a special agent for the Texas Rangers. Let’s not talk shop here. Can we go to your office?”

The sheriff spit on the floor, glanced sourly at Abner, then muttered, “All right, then. Come with me.”

The Kid put on her coat and slicker, then followed Clay to the door. She’d never bothered to take her wet hat off. Abner scratched his chin, shaking his head as he watched them step out into the rain.

Soon to come: Chapter Two!

 

by BlueJean

Author’s Note: This new story is a sequel to both The Beekeeper’s Daughters and Selkie Days. If you haven’t already, I’d advise you to read those first, as this new installment won’t make much sense without the context of those earlier works. They are both stand-alone stories, with some connective tissue, and can be read in either order. That said, this prologue picks up a few months after the end of Selkie Days and is a direct continuation of that story, so reading The Beekeeper’s Daughters first, then Selkie Days, would probably be a good way to go.

~Dramatis Personae~

In the Anglo-Welsh border village of Derwold:

Georgia Newton ~ Mother of Millie and Freya. Lover of Sadie Laine. Moved to the village of Derwold after her husband died. Very grounded, and distrustful of magic. She is the eponymous beekeeper of the title.

Freya Newton ~ Oldest daughter of Georgia. A natural cynic who struggles with insecurities. She likes to spend time in the greenhouse with her herbs.

Millie Newton ~ Youngest daughter of Georgia and witch’s apprentice. Harbours magical powers. Loves to go on adventures. Just on the right side of precocious.

Sadie Laine ~ Schoolteacher and Georgia’s lover, secretly a witch. Came to Derwold to send her restless, troublesome ancestor Isabel on to the afterlife and ended up staying. Bubbly, kooky, but has grit where it counts.

Elsa Hart ~ Lady of the Manor and Simon’s Derwold’s wife. A refined woman of impeccable taste.

Simon Derwold ~ Ancestral heir to the Derwold estate. His family has a troubled past.

Astris ~ An ancient forest nymph known as a dryad. Has served as Derwold’s protector for many centuries. She speaks of Neanderthals, the Picts, and the Roman invasion of Britain as if she has witnessed these things firsthand.

Sally Jeffries ~ Runs the local post office. Wicked sense of humour. Strange and unusual things happen when she’s had a few drinks.

Bernard the Druid ~ Bumbling, pompous druid. Has made Derwold his temporary home.

Roy Sutton ~ Georgia and Sadie’s camp friend. Loves knitting.

Vivaan Dinesh ~ Derwold’s resident doctor. One of the few people who know of Sadie’s dual life.

Billy Buckham ~ A grumpy black cat and Sadie’s animal familiar. Does not suffer fools gladly.

Bee ~ Newton family dog. Has a very waggy tail.

Mr. Dalliard (deceased) ~ An elderly gentleman and friend to Sadie and the Newtons. Millie was particularly fond of him. As a young boy he was seduced by Isabel and nearly killed. Astris healed him, inadvertently extending his lifespan in the process. Last seen possessing the body of a majestic stag in order to protect Georgia and her girls. His spirit has since moved on.

Isabel (deceased) ~ Sadie’s ancestor. She was accused of witchcraft and killed by hanging. Astris reached out to comfort her during her last moments, allowing Isabel to anchor her spirit to the great oak and leech off the dryad’s power. Hundreds of years later, Sadie managed to send her back to the great cycle.

 

In the Cornish coastal town of Morcant-On-Sea:

Hailey Ellis ~ A young journalist and budding writer. Has come back to Morcant to live with her uncle.

Derek ~ Fisherman and Hailey’s uncle. Loud, brash, enjoys the simple things in life.

Rita ~ Hailey’s aunt, and for a time, her lover. Also happens to be a selkie. Derek stole her sealskin and bound her to the land but she has since found her way back to the ocean.

Jack ~ One of Derek’s former crew and Hailey’s occasional lover. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but means well.

Madeline ~ Morcant’s glamorous doctor. Lost her husband to the sea many years before. An unrepentant sexual deviant.

Isla ~ Madeline’s teenage daughter. All adolescent hormones.

Mike ~ Hailey’s boss at the local newspaper.

Karnu ~ Reluctant leader of the Selkie.

Sully (deceased) ~ Lifelong fisherman and Derek’s former first mate. His smoking habit finally caught up with him.

***

Prologue

 Amidst water lily fields, white and green
Grows a tree
And from the tree hang apples
Not for you to eat
Beneath the heaving sea
Where statues and pillars and stone altars
Rest for all these aching bones
To guide us far from energy
Mirth, birth, reverie
       Nico “Julius Caesar (Memento Hodie)”

1

Morcant-On-Sea was dying a slow death.

The isolated peninsula was fast becoming a ghost town, most of the houses now serving as summer holiday homes for mainlanders wealthy enough to afford such luxuries. In the autumn and winter months they stood cold and empty.

The pub down on the harbour, The Mal De Mer, had closed its doors for the last time a year ago. Its windows were now boarded up, the slow crawl of decay creeping up its salt-encrusted walls.

The post office suffered a similar fate, but that at least had found new life as a convenience store, a much needed necessity for the few remaining locals rather than a sound business opportunity – there wasn’t much in the way of custom these days.

The bookshop had gone too – the little gothic bookshop that everyone swore blind never existed. It was a launderette, some claimed. No, it was one of those cobbler and key shops, others insisted. Most were adamant there had never been anything there in the first place, that there had only ever been three shops on that street, never four.

But Hailey still had the book, that old battered paperback with the title The Selkie. The book was hers. It had always been hers. The lady in the bookshop had said as much, and Hailey understood the immovable truth of the mysterious old woman’s words in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

If the harbour town was in the last throes of death, then its small fishing industry had already breathed its last. Hailey’s Uncle Derek had held on for as long as he could, suffering the indignity of watching his crew dwindle to nothing. Sully was diagnosed with lung cancer and passed away; Odette returned to her native France, and then it was just Derek and Jack left. Then Jack threw in the towel to try his hand at painting and decorating. Now her uncle’s fishing trawler was the only vessel tied up in the harbour, its hold bare and dry.

To add insult to injury, the coastal town was collapsing under foot, the folly of building a settlement on what was effectively a cliff side now starkly apparent. Coastal erosion had plagued the length and breadth of Britain, but none more so than Morcant-On-Sea. When the houses higher up began to topple, the ones below would stand no chance.

When this became clear to residents savvy enough to go digging for the information, they quickly sold their properties at below-market rates before the insurance companies could get wind of it. Once the severity of the situation was blown wide open, the rest of the populace either abandoned their homes or took their chances in the harbour town.

2

Hailey returned to Morcant thinking everything would be as it always was, that somehow the small fishing town of her childhood would be frozen in time, ready to resume once she made her way back. Foolish nostalgia, she told herself. Nothing ever stays the same, no matter how much you want it to.

Except Jack. Jack hadn’t changed. A little older, yes, but certainly none the wiser. The brash, cocky boy of her childhood had given way to a kind, easy-going young man, one of those rare breed of human who seemed content to swim with the current, never questioning whatever life throws at them. He was safe, uncomplicated. And sometimes Hailey needed safe and uncomplicated.

He leaned across the bed and claimed her with an arm, his eyes still tight shut. She could smell the musk of his clean sweat, and the faint scent of day-old aftershave.

“Get up,” Hailey told him softly, stroking his thick blonde hair. “We both need to go to work.”

“Uh… what day is it?” Jack mumbled, still mostly asleep. “Thought it was Sunday.”

Hailey smiled at him. “Idiot.”

He was an idiot, and she liked him for it. It was both endearing and unthreatening – her very own handsome fool. But it wasn’t quite love. He was twenty-six; she’d be nineteen soon. The two of them offered each other as much as they had to give. Maybe that was good enough in a dying town.

But her heart lay elsewhere.

3

When Rita called to Hailey, she was compelled to answer, though there were times when she resisted the insistent tug. When she did go down to meet her aunt (Rita had been Hailey’s human aunt for so much of her life it was impossible to think of her any other way), it was hard to tell if it was of her own volition or Rita’s glamour at work. She considered telling her aunt to stop summoning her that way, but that would’ve been like telling someone to stop breathing. Rita didn’t do it by choice – it was just something she projected naturally, potent pheromones unique to the Selkie. It left Hailey wondering if it was truly love she felt, or something more akin to thralldom.

Regardless, it wasn’t the selkie she’d fallen in love with. It was her Aunt Rita. And Aunt Rita was lost.

Hailey made her way down to the beach and along the wide band of pale sand that traced the peninsula. She came to the ring of fossilised trees that had so fascinated her as a child. The prehistoric monument had been built by ancient hands, human and selkie alike. Rita told her it had been a gateway once, like other ancient monuments that dotted the country. Hailey didn’t know exactly what that meant, and Rita never seemed much inclined to elaborate on her musings.

She headed over to the rocks where a naked flame-haired figure sat gazing out at the ocean. Rita hadn’t aged a day since Hailey’s childhood – she suspected the passage of time hadn’t touched her aunt for many decades – but she had changed in other ways. A smattering of red-brown mottle adorned the selkie’s body, sprinkled across her temples and down the nape of her neck. Her ribs and thighs were similarly marked. Her skin was oily and sweet smelling.

The only reminder of who this creature had once been was the sea serpent tattooed down the length of her spine, a gift from her ‘friend’ Madeline.

Rita turned to Hailey and fixed her with emerald eyes – eyes that had once been brown. “Why do you fight it?” she asked, the strange lilt of her native tongue thick and alluring, its mellifluous timbre vaguely Icelandic. It’d been strange for Hailey to come back to Morcant and hear her aunt talking like that, her rough English accent all but vanished in the intervening years.

Hailey took a place next to her aunt. “I can make up my own mind whether I want to come or not.”

“You didn’t need to think about it when you were a child. You just followed your heart.”

“I’m not eleven anymore,” Hailey told her without much rancour. “And back then I didn’t realise what you were doing.”

Rita turned her attention back to the ocean with a faint smile. Hailey hated that smile. It didn’t belong to her aunt, the woman she’d loved with such intensity. “Something’s coming, Hailey. Something big. I think I will return to the cycle soon.”

More vague nonsense. It seemed her aunt was intent on speaking in riddles these days.

Hailey kissed her aunt on the mouth, then whispered the words that she wanted to scream. “Come back to me. Please.”

Rita wiped away her niece’s tears and smiled that imposter’s smile. “I’m here. Don’t you see me?”

Hailey wondered if this was how the friends and family of Alzheimer’s sufferers felt as they watched their beloved husband or wife or parent fading away, helpless to stop it happening. Those people were forced to accept the horrible truth of their situations – that their loved ones would never get better; never return to them. But like the people racked by that terrible disease, the old Rita still surfaced from time to time, and in some ways that made it worse. Hailey held fast to a thin hope that her Aunt Rita could be drawn fully out, that somehow she could still be set free. Sometimes hope can be a terrible limbo.

And there was another uncomfortable truth – that this flame-haired imposter was the real Rita. This was who she’d been before Derek had stolen her sealskin and bound her to the land. Hailey even had a vague memory when she was very small, of a quiet, almost confused woman her uncle had introduced as his wife. Had the loud, brash Aunt Rita she’d known and loved merely been a persona, a corrupted version of the selkie she had once been? Was she mourning someone who had never truly existed?

Rita’s sealskin lay behind her, draped across the rocks. It shimmered in the sun, seeming to pulsate with a life of its own. It shared a symbiotic relationship with its host. All those years ago Hailey had found the sealskin buried in a sea cave along the shore, hidden there for years. Separated from her aunt for so long, it had shrivelled and died, but Hailey had watched it miraculously regenerate in front of her eyes when selkie and skin were reunited.

What would happen if she stole her aunt’s sealskin, just as her uncle had done all those years ago? Would Aunt Rita return to her? Was that the only way to bring her back? It wasn’t the first time Hailey had considered doing such a terrible thing, and it shamed her. She pushed the thought away.

4

The office was quiet when Hailey wandered in later that morning. There were only three of them working on the local rag now, and Leonie was over on the mainland covering some football match. That left Hailey and head honcho Mike manning the fort, not that it was in much danger of being overrun any time soon.

Hailey was finishing up her article on local marine conservation efforts when Mike called her into his office. She sat down in the chair opposite his desk. She knew what was coming.

“Listen, Hailey, there’s no easy way to say this—”

“You’re firing me.”

Mike stared at her blank-eyed for a moment, then managed to compose himself. “Not firing, no – laying off.”

Hailey was pretty sure they were the same thing, but didn’t bother pointing it out.

After an awkward pause, Mike added, “The thing is, it’s last to join, first to go, and Leonie’s been here longer than you. I know it’s not fair, but… well, the money’s running out. I just can’t afford to keep you on much longer.”

“It’s okay.”

Mike pulled his glasses away to pinch the bridge of his nose. “It’s not okay. None of this is okay. It won’t be long before we have to shut down the whole paper.”

“Nothing much to report in a ghost town, I suppose.”

“Yeah. But listen, this was only ever a stop gap for you, right? Morcant’s been a good place to cut your teeth, learn the tricks of the trade, but the big bucks are out there on the mainland. You would’ve left eventually.”

Hailey didn’t know if that was true or not. She’d seen this place as a new life, or perhaps the reclaiming of an old one. Maybe not as a journalist – Mike was right about that. Even with a healthy populace, The Morcant Echo had never exactly been The Daily Mail. But as a published novelist writing her magnum opus from her beloved Cornish fishing town? She’d fallen in love with the idea, even if it was jumping the gun somewhat on the novel front. Now, though? She wasn’t sure. Morcant-On-Sea was not the hub of hustle bustle it’d once been. The town reeked of decay.

“Well,” Mike continued, “you don’t need to decide what you want to do right away. I can keep you on for a few more months. I just wanted to be upfront with you. I owe you that, at least.”

“I appreciate it.”

“How’s that novel coming along?”

Her first book was finished. She’d been pushing it around various publishing houses, but hadn’t had any takers yet. In the meantime, she’d begun work on a second, and told Mike as much.

“It’ll get picked up sooner or later, I’m sure of it,” he said, and Hailey wondered if he was just telling her what he thought she wanted to hear.

She had no idea if the book was good or not. Sometimes it seemed like literary genius to her; on other days, the scribblings of a child. Either way, she wasn’t hugely concerned. The consensus seemed to be that no writer should be trying to get published before they had an ample sum of years and life experiences under their belt. She was only eighteen. An exceptionally mature eighteen, with an intellect beyond her years, but eighteen nonetheless.

“Then I can tell everyone the famous novelist Hailey Ellis used to work for me,” Mike was saying.

Hailey found herself laughing at the notion. “Wouldn’t that be a splendid thing?”

“Absolutely.”

5

She found Uncle Derek down by the harbour. The tide had slowly inched away, exposing a flat expanse of muddy sand. He was harvesting cockles under the tangerine sky of early evening, inspecting each excavated crustacean before dropping them into a plastic carrier bag, occasionally casting one aside. There was something mundanely tragic about the scene, and Hailey’s heart broke every time she saw him out here. He’d been a proud fisherman once, with his own trawler and crew. Now he was reduced to this.

But Hailey knew the real reason he came out here.

Rita wouldn’t show herself to him. She was wary, Hailey guessed. And who could blame her after what he’d done? Stolen her sealskin and hidden it away for years, leaving her unable to return to the ocean. She had loved him, for sure – that was her nature – but doesn’t a domestic abuse victim still love their abuser to some extent, enough to keep forgiving them? It was an ugly parallel, and one that was hard to attribute to her uncle, but Hailey kept coming back to it all the same.

But now Rita was free of her captivity, and as far as she was concerned, it was once bitten, twice shy. Hailey told her uncle to let it go, but he wouldn’t. Or couldn’t.

“Found any good ones?” she shouted across to him from the harbour wall. Not that she knew what constituted a good cockle.

“They’re scrawny little fuckers,” her uncle hollered back. “Seem to get smaller every year. They was the size of dinner plates when I was a lad.”

“Don’t exaggerate!”

“I ain’t, girl!” Derek protested, but his grin said otherwise.

“Are they really worth the trouble? Not exactly a living, is it?”

“It ain’t about the money,” Derek said after some consideration. “It’s about the mud between yer toes, and the salt air in yer lungs. And watchin’ the sun sink into the sea.”

“Uh-huh.”

Hailey didn’t doubt the sincerity of his words, even if there was an ulterior motive behind them. They were spoken with too much earthy conviction to ever question their honesty.

“Come on,” Derek said. “Roll up them strides and give yer old uncle a hand.”

Hailey slipped her shoes off, rolled up her jeans, then waded out to where Uncle Derek waited with a spare plastic bag and a hearty smile. His beard was as full and lush as ever, but filaments of grey streaked through it now, and the lines on his face were beginning to mark the harsh passage of time.

They talked as they plucked cockles from the sand, and the conversation turned inevitably to a certain selkie.

“How is she?” Derek asked. He sounded good-natured enough, but Hailey couldn’t help notice the way he turned away from her when he spoke, as if his eyes might reveal the truth of it.

“She’s okay,” Hailey told him. “Not quite the Rita we knew, but… she’s happy, I think.”

“I’m glad.” He hooked his hands into the small of his back and arched into a stretch, a wince creasing his craggy face. “I can’t keep bein’ sorry, Hailey. It’s a dead end, you know? It don’t solve nothin’. I had to start puttin’ one foot in front of the other again.” He plucked another crustacean from the wet sand and turned it in his hands, regarding it sadly. “I just wish I could’ve explained things to her.”

“She’s not angry anymore,” Hailey offered. “I don’t think her kind dwell on things. She lives in the moment. Like an animal would, I suppose.”

“Aye. Best way to be, I reckon.”

“She asks after you.”

Derek scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Bridge night up at the library tonight,” he said. “Female attendance has gone through the roof since I joined.”

Hailey rolled her eyes. “You’re so full of crap.”

He threw his head back and laughed that wonderful booming laugh. She didn’t hear it nearly often enough these days.

They plucked more cockles from the sand and watched the autumn sun disappear into the sea.

6

When Hailey entered the convenience store a short while later, she noticed Isla loitering in the shop’s meagre beauty department – a sparse two metres of shelf space devoted to deodorant, hair products and various other toiletries. The fourteen-year-old had her rucksack on her back, and was dressed in her school uniform. Hailey guessed she’d just gotten off the ferry from the mainland where she attended secondary school.

Hailey stood just out of sight and watched. Isla ran her hands through her shaved-at-the-sides pink bouffant, then cupped her chin in mock-concentration. Hmm… what to buy… what to buy… seemed to be what she was trying to convey, but from the way her eyes flickered furtively to left and right, Hailey strongly suspected that no money would be changing hands during this particular transaction.

And there it was – a jar of hair clay dropped into her open rucksack, closely followed by a can of antiperspirant.

Hailey approached from behind and tapped the teenager on her shoulder. “What’re you doing?”

Isla spun to face her, and Hailey saw the fight in her eyes. The fourteen-year-old deflated a little when she saw who was behind her. “Fuck! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Put those things back before you get caught,” Hailey told her quietly.

“What’re you, my mum?”

“Put them back, Isla!”

“No!”

Sighing, Hailey held her basket up. “Drop them in there. And hurry up before someone sees us!”

Isla stared at her for a moment, then fished the stolen goods from her rucksack and dropped them into the basket. Hailey paid for both of their items – an old fashioned concept, she explained, but one that’s stood the test of time.

Outside the shop, Hailey handed over Isla’s ill-gotten goods. The teenager tilted her head to one side, squeezed her eyes to slits, then gave Hailey the sweetest of smiles. “Fank Yoo!”

“Save the cute act, devil spawn,” Hailey told her dryly. “I’m immune.”

Isla took Hailey’s hand, her eyes flashing suggestively. “Come home with me and I’ll prove you’re not.”

When Isla began leading her towards the beachfront property she shared with her mother, Hailey made no effort to stop her.

“What would your mum say if she found out you’d been shoplifting?”

Isla did an approximation of her mother, voice deepened to somewhere between Greta Garbo and Darth Vader, which, as it turns out, was a perfect description of Madeline.

“She’d say, ‘Isla, I’m veeery disappointed in you. I have a reputation to maintain, you know. And never mind that I used to make you stick your hand up my twat when you were a little girl. That doesn’t make me a fucking hypocrite at all, unruly child!”

Hailey tried hard not to laugh. “Okay, okay, point taken.”

“Why do you care what my dear mother thinks, anyway? You don’t even like her.”

“It’s not that I don’t like her, Isla.”

“You don’t, though.”

“All right, I don’t much. But I like you. I don’t want to see you flush your life down the toilet.”

Isla hooked her arm into Hailey’s. “Aww! So sweet!”

Madeline wasn’t home when Isla turned the key and ushered Hailey inside – she played bridge with Derek down at the library on Mondays and Thursdays. It still tickled Hailey to think of the two of them playing cards with the other, mostly elderly, residents of Morcant. They were also known to collaborate on the occasional jigsaw puzzle.

She had it on good authority (a certain pink-haired teenage informant) that Doctor Madeline had been in therapy since ‘The Selkie Incident’, but Hailey suspected her activities with Derek must have been a kind of therapy too, perhaps for both of them.

But no, Hailey didn’t like her. She couldn’t forgive the woman for what she’d done to Aunt Rita. If her uncle had been Rita’s jailor, then Madeline had been her tormentor, and that, to Hailey’s mind, was worse. Derek was family, and despite it all, loved Rita desperately, so Hailey found it easy to forgive him, but Doctor Madeline wasn’t getting off so easily.

Hailey didn’t think the doctor ever truly believed the story about Rita’s sealskin, not until the day Hailey retrieved it (mistakenly offering the skin to Madeline in the belief that she was the real selkie). Nevertheless, she had been forced to accept that the strange woman she was nursing back to health was not quite human – the x-rays and blood tests proved that, and Derek had all but confirmed it with his half-muddled sailor’s tales of Selkie, Merrow and Finfolk.

Aunt Rita pleaded with the doctor for help in the early days of her emancipation. Madeline could have opened the cage if she’d wanted to. Instead, she chose to poke and prod the creature inside, taking some perverse pleasure in corrupting the overwhelmed selkie, seducing her with sex and alcohol, and all the other trappings of humanity. That a woman would inflict such cruelty on another woman, regardless of species, somehow made it worse.

Isla corralled Hailey upstairs and into her room. The walls were plastered with posters of bands Hailey had never heard of. The fourteen-year-old switched on her stereo, and Amyl and the Sniffers blasted out of the speakers. Hailey winced and turned the volume down.

Isla undid her white school blouse button by button, taunting Hailey with her shrewd blue eyes. When the last button popped free she pulled the two halves open, then brought her hands up to cup a pair of small bare breasts, fingers scissoring back and forth across her perky nipples.

The grey plaid skirt was next, unclasped and pushed over her slim hips. She kicked it away, then fell back onto the bed with a breathless giggle. Lying there in white panties and socks, blouse slung open, her nose and ear studs glimmering like precious metal embedded in alabaster, the fourteen-year-old was the very embodiment of teen sex appeal.

Isla knew it too. “So what do you think, Hailey?” she said in a voice that sounded a little too much like her mother. “Are you still immune?”

Hailey paused a moment to take in the sight of the pink-haired nymph lolling on the bed. Slowly sinking to her knees, she tattooed kisses on each of Isla’s ankles in turn, then peppered her way up the girl’s smooth, honed calves.

When she reached the inner thighs, Isla propped herself up on her elbows and peered down at Hailey with a devilish smile. “Where do you think you’re going with that mouth?”

“Exactly where you want me to go,” Hailey told her.

“Not yet,” Isla said, then flipped herself round onto her hands and knees. “Pull my knickers down and slap my bum first.”

Hailey rolled her eyes. “Always with the spanking. Kinky little thing, aren’t you?”

She remembered spanking Isla for fun when the two of them were younger. As she recalled, Madeline had also been partial to warming her daughter’s bottom on occasion. Was it any surprise the teenager had developed such tendencies?

Hooking her fingers into the elastic of Isla’s knickers, Hailey drew them down until they reached the fourteen-year-old’s socks, then left them stretched around her ankles. Somehow that made the view even sexier.

Isla spread her knees as far as she was able, her pussy glistening with a musky dew. “I haven’t had a shower yet,” she said, peering back at Hailey with a grin. “Do I smell?”

“You smell gorgeous,” Hailey told her, breathing in the thick, tantalising scent.

“I got detention after school. The teacher was looking at her phone and not paying attention, so I spent nearly the whole hour masturbating. I’m always so fucking randy!”

“Nice to know you’re making good use of your time. Want me to eat you out now?”

Isla gave her head a hard shake. “Spank me first… or no pussy for you, Hailey Wailey!”

Drawing back a hand, Hailey whacked the teenager half-heartedly on the arse.

“Harder,” Isla demanded, so Hailey slapped her again, using more force this time. “Harder, I said!”

“I am.”

“You’re not! Make it hurt or fuck off!”

She should’ve given the teenager an earful for speaking to her like that, maybe walked out altogether. Instead, Hailey got to her feet and gave the little shit what she wanted, swinging her arm back and whacking her almost full force across one bum cheek, then the other. The loud crack echoed off the walls.

“That’s it, hit me!“ Isla cried. “You know you like it as much as I do!”

The schoolgirl pushed her bum back, inviting further punishment. Her arse was turning a cherry red, intensifying in colour as Hailey continued her relentless assault.

“You nasty lady!” Isla squealed in the bizarre high-pitched anime voice she was convinced everyone found endearing. “I’m telling Mooommmyyyyy!”

“Is this what you want, bad girl?” Hailey snarled. Then more words, each one accompanied by a slap. “Don’t. Ever. Let. Me. Catch. You. Stealing. Again!”

She found herself enjoying administering the beating more than she’d admit. Sometimes harsh truths reveal themselves in the bedroom.

“S-spank my pussy, too!” Isla blurted.

Hailey’s hand froze mid-swing. “Uh… what?”

“I’m gonna come soon! Spank my pussy! Hurry!”

Hailey slapped the teenager’s exposed mound. It landed with a dull thwack.

“Harder, Hailey! Make it sting!”

Hailey whipped her hand against Isla’s pussy, this time making contact with the tips of her fingers instead of the palm. When she caught it at just the right angle, a satisfying snap rang out. It’s just like skimming stones across a pond, she mused. It takes a while to get a good one, but when you do, oh how it flies!

Snap!

“Yes!” Isla screeched.

Hailey smacked her again and again, the teenager’s wetness only increasing the friction of skin on skin.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Isla broke out into a series of violent shudders, her back arching spasmodically. She collapsed onto the bed and writhed against the sheets, her moans muffled by a pillow. The stereo oozed out Iggy Pop’s “Funtime.”

Finally, Isla rolled onto her back and blew the fluffy pink fringe from her eyes. She slipped the half-removed panties all the way off, and when she opened her legs, her sex was red, swollen, and very wet. “Maybe you should come kiss it better now,” she cooed in butter-wouldn’t-melt tones.

Once more, Hailey folded to her knees. A hand upon each of Isla’s smooth inner thighs, she bent to lap at the tart confection before her. Was there anything more exquisitely erotic than the taste of a young adolescent girl, the taste of a girl who’s spent most of the day edging herself under a desk when she should’ve been studying? Hailey flicked her tongue across the twitching teenager’s clit, coaxing several more smaller climaxes from her.

“Why do you still have your clothes on?“ a breathless Isla wondered.

Hailey made short work in remedying that. Now both naked and sprawled across the bed, Isla climbed over her friend until the two of them were mouth to pussy. When Hailey closed her lips around Isla’s clit, the teenager jerked away with a gasp.

“Too sensitive! Lick my bumhole instead, okay?”

Hailey dragged another pillow beneath her head, then spread Isla’s still-chafed bum cheeks apart. She teased the musky rosebud with feather-light flicks before wriggling her tongue inside. Isla grazed Hailey’s cunt with her teeth, a finger finding its way into her older friend’s arse.

Hailey came quickly, letting the waves wash over her, tongue still firmly planted inside Isla’s arsehole.

Isla flipped herself around and settled her body back atop Hailey’s, the two of them now face to face. “Why doesn’t the mermaid come visit me anymore?” she asked with a smirk, rubbing herself back and forth against Hailey’s pussy.

“She has a name,” Hailey told her defensively, “and she’s not a bloody mermaid.“

From the way Isla’s eyes sparkled so gleefully, it was just the sort of response she sought to provoke. She could be such a little brat sometimes.

“Reee-taa!” Isla mocked in a liquid growl. “Reee-taa the mermaid!”

“Stop pretending to be your mother, you childish little bitch.”

“Fuck you!”

“So do it! Fuck me!”

She never made it easy, did Isla. Sex was always like a war of attrition with her, the polar opposite of Jack’s gentler ways. But just as she was drawn to Jack’s tender, attentive love, there were times when Hailey needed this, too – this dark thing that smouldered between her and Isla, as much vengeance as it was desire.

7

Hailey awakened with a start in the small hours of the morning, a lingering cold sweat making her pyjamas cling to her body. Her sleep had been plagued by images of earthquakes, dead rising from the sea, terrible winged monsters.

But it hadn’t been the nightmares that’d roused her from an uneasy slumber. Rita was calling to her again. The summons had an urgent edge to it, and seemed to be coming from somewhere much closer than the beach this time. She hadn’t seen her aunt for several weeks, but that wasn’t so unusual – Rita came and went, as was her nature.

Hailey climbed out of bed – her own bed, in the attic of the old lighthouse keeper’s cottage. It was the first time she’d slept in it for days. It occurred to her that she might be spreading herself a little too thin of late. Jack, Rita, Isla – they all took their share. Was there any part left to call her own anymore? It didn’t seem to speak well of a supposedly independent young woman.

She slipped on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, then crept out of the cottage, as she’d often done as a young girl. Habit took her across the empty yard where Rita had once tinkered with Morcant’s cars, then toward the gated entrance that led down to the harbour. She paused, her attention drawn towards the lighthouse keeping vigil some yards away, its bright beacon constant and somehow reassuring. The door had been left ajar. Hailey hastened towards it, then began the long climb to the top.

Upon reaching the light chamber, she found a naked Rita hunched on the floor behind the central daise, knees hugged tightly against her chest. The sealskin lay beside her, its red hue now flecked with bits of white. Hailey clapped a hand to her mouth in horror and rushed towards her aunt.

“Aunt Rita! What happened to you?”

Her aunt’s hair was grey and lifeless, her pallid, sickly skin exuding a milky, oily substance, the rich ocean smell of it assaulting Hailey’s senses. Rita’s lips were dry and cracked, scabbed over with the same stuff that crusted her eyelids. Her whole body seemed to be draped in some kind of cobweb-like material.

Rita reached out and placed a cold, damp hand on Hailey’s cheek. “Who am I, Hailey? Who am I?” she croaked. “I am Reeta of the Selkie, ambassador to my people. ‘Witch-friend’ they called me – first to tease, then later out of respect. I am Rita the mechanic. Fishwife. Aunt. Yes, those too! Long years have I lived. I do not want to forget them!”

“You’re not well,” Hailey sobbed, brushing her aunt’s colourless hair back from her face. “I’ll fetch Madeline. She’ll help you.”

Rita clamped a hand around Hailey’s arm. “This is not sickness, Hailey. It is change. Nothing can stop it. Long ago we held rituals to usher in the metamorphosis, but the old ways have been forgotten. There are so few of us left now. So few…”

“I don’t understand. How are you changing? There must be something we can do!”

Rita’s hand tightened on Hailey’s arm. “Listen to me. The child… the child is coming.”

“The child? What child?”

“The Beekeeper’s child. She’s coming. And something terrible pursues her. Echoes of what’s to come… even now, they ripple through the water.”

It seemed like more cryptic nonsense to Hailey. But Rita was on the Path of the Siren. In the days of the Tuatha Dé Danann, those blessed, or perhaps cursed, with such a rare rebirth were revered, the change considered sacrosanct. For those on the path could tap into days yet to come, their perception of time coiling and dilating in strange configurations to offer glimpses of what might be. Even the mighty Dryad could not command such farsight, fleeting though it was.

But all Hailey wanted was to get Rita back, the way she had been. Her elusive aunt haunted the selkie, here one moment, gone the next, impossible to pin down. That was heartbreak enough. Now this. Whatever the hell this was. 

Hailey gently cradled her aunt’s face. “Come back to me, Aunt Rita. Please.”

And she did. Just briefly. The Aunt Rita she remembered from childhood. Hailey peered into her eyes, and there she was.

Rita gave her niece a weary smile. “Oh, we are so fucked, kid…”

Coming soon: the story proper commences with… Chapter One!

A brief summary of what has transpired thus far: Katherine is a shy. inexperienced teen girl who is starting over at a new school, after being mercilessly harassed by bullies at the last one. It’s her first time in the cafeteria, and the girl assigned to show Katherine around strongly suggests she avoid one table in particular where four very different girls sit. She calls them “lesbian delinquents,” and a “regular bad girls club,” before abandoning Katherine to her own devices. Desperately needing to take a seat before everyone starts to stare, Katherine somehow finds herself approaching the very table she was warned against. She spends her lunch break with these girls and enjoys it, despite feeling a bit uncertain about the whole sex-with-other-girls thing. 

And now, dear readers, we make our way into the next installment. Read on…

by Mystery Mouse

CHAPTER 2 – Self-Examination and Troublesome Anecdotes

Sex.

That was the problem.

Katherine wasn’t naïve. She knew what sex was. At least, the mechanics of it. She’d had “The Talk”’ with her mother when she was little, and she’d sat through the period assembly with the other girls in her old school, listening to dry-as-dust lectures about “The Glory of Womanhood,” or some such tat. She knew why bits of her went in and other bits bulged out.

But the idea of people actually doing it, actually taking off their clothes and getting intimate with each other, just seemed unreal.

It was like the dinosaurs. Katherine knew they’d roamed the earth millions of years ago, but the idea of, say, a brachiosaurus munching on the fern growing outside her bedroom window was inconceivable.

Sex was a completely unknown world to her.

But tonight she was determined to take her first step into that world and see what it was all about.

“Okay,” she sighed softly.

Katherine and her mother lived in a small apartment on the top floor of an old converted Edwardian house. It was tiny and simple, and didn’t feel like home yet, but she was getting used to it.

In Katherine’s bedroom, on either side of an old fireplace, were two large, built-in closets with mirrored doors, and she was studying her reflection in one of them.

What do you see when you look in the mirror? Katherine asked herself. Not what others see, or what you think others see anyway, but what do YOU see?

Just a girl, a naked teenager unsure what to do with herself. Apart from the long red hair (and the freckles and pale skin that came with it), just an ordinary person nobody would look twice at.

She wondered what the difference was between her and the four girls she’d spent her lunch time with. They had all different body types, hair colours, skin colours, everything. And they were sexually active, so why wasn’t she?

Okay, Katherine thought. Not the right mindset. That way leads to depression. Let’s try this again. What would a lover see when they look at you?

It was an odd question. Not that she hadn’t seen herself naked. It was tricky to have a shower without seeing something, at least. But she’d never looked at herself in any sexual way.

With trembling fingers, she raised both hands to her breasts, giving a small squeak as her cold palms touched warm skin. She felt the tension in her flesh as her nipples started to harden, then smiled to herself. Even in her lowest moods, when she was most down on herself, she’d always been proud of her bosom.

Making a face, she told herself, Call them “tits,” Katherine. Call ’em “boobs” or “knockers” or something an actual grownup would say. You’re not in a romance novel, after all.

Fine. Her tits weren’t exactly small, but they weren’t large enough to condemn her to a future with back problems, like Aunt Kate had. In fact, they were just the right size and shape for her body. And just the right size for her to cup with both hands, as she did now. She laughed under her breath at the sight of her mirror-self, almost, but not quite, hiding her nipples beneath her fingers. They were almost painfully erect, standing up from the pale areolas.

Funny how I can never pronounce that word properly. Even now, I still get embarrassed when buying aioli in the supermarket.

Distracted by the memory, she absentmindedly closed her fingers, squeezing the nipples between them. A buzz of pleasure shot through her, leaving Katherine’s skin tingling, her pulse frantic.

She pinched her nipples even harder, pulling them at the same time, and found the sensations so intense she couldn’t stand up straight. Not just pleasure… it was something more, something so overwhelming she could barely cope with it.

Was this what the other girls felt? Did they touch each other like this? Did they squeeze each other’s boobs, pinch each other’s aching nipples, and moan in ecstasy at the sheer intensity of it all?

Oh, come on, thought Katherine, they must do more than that. If they actually did have sex, if they actually did fuck, there was another body part that had to be involved. She reluctantly released her grip and, pausing only to observe the temporary red marks she’d left on her breasts, slid a hand down her body, over her ribcage and stomach, slowly but inevitably toward her womanhood. Down to her now very wet sex.

Her body was alive with exciting new sensations. Her heart was pounding, her mind racing. Was this what sex felt like all the time? What else had she been missing out on?

And then she made contact.

The feelings Katherine had experienced earlier, that physical wall of pleasure, had been but a mere hint of what she was feeling now. As the little, ring and middle fingers of both hands slipped across her warm and moist outer labia, an index finger brushed her straining clitoris.

She couldn’t help it. Just that slight touch, the most minute hint of pressure, made her cry out.

Katherine froze. Staring in horror at her reflection, she listened for any movement outside her bedroom.

Her mother was home, in the lounge down the hall, watching TV after a long shift at the hospital. The television wasn’t turned up, was it? Not loud enough to cover that noise, surely?

As she strained to hear, she examined her reflection more closely. Just a few minutes ago she’d seen a shy, nervous girl who’d normally be wearing sweatpants and a comfy T-shirt. Now, she was looking at a naked young woman, hungry to experience sexual pleasure.

Fair enough. Since her mother appeared not to have heard anything, Katherine felt it only right to give her reflection what it wanted.

She had a small office chair, the sort with armrests, that she wheeled over to the closet, pausing only to make sure her bedroom door really was locked. Mum would NOT be happy about me doing this, she told herself.

Plunking down in the chair, Kathrine wriggled around until her arse was perched on the edge of the seat cushion, her legs were dangling over the armrests, and her pussy – God, I love that word! – was in full view. Peering into the mirror, she could see directly into herself – how engorged she was, how flushed with anticipation, how juicy.

She’d never looked at her pussy like this before, and marvelled at how beautiful it was.

Wobbling a little, still fixed on her reflection, she reached down to gently press a fingertip to the swollen nub of her clit. That little touch was enough to make her shudder, but she was careful not to make a sound.

Soon she was rubbing herself there with two fingers, stopping every so often to dip them into her pussy for lubrication. The little exhibitionist in the mirror repeated her every motion.

It was like torture – exquisite torture. Katherine felt every millimetre of her fingers as they slid into her pussy, every delicious inch stretching her open even further. Her body sang with ecstasy.

It took every ounce of control she had to remain quiet. The squishing and squelching of her virgin pussy seemed impossibly loud. Yet she couldn’t stop. She just couldn’t.

Vague, half-formed fantasies filled Katherine’s head as she masturbated for the first time in her young life. She pictured bodies around her, on her, inside her. With every depraved thought her fingers went faster until they were a blur.

In desperation, she reached for the nearest thing available and, finding her discarded panties on the floor, scooped them up and stuffed them in her mouth. But even with the damp cotton now absorbing her uncontrollable moans and cries, and the scent of pussy filling her nostrils, she couldn’t seem to bring herself to the point of no return.

Katherine’s body was shaking. She was glazed with sweat, her legs were starting to ache, and pussy fluids were practically pouring out of her. The pressure inside was unbearable. If she actually had forgotten to lock her bedroom door and her mother walked in right now, she couldn’t possibly have stopped. It felt too good.

And she desperately, desperately, needed to come.

She’d never done it before, wasn’t sure what it felt like, but she knew it was close. She and her reflection were so nearly there.

“Baby? You okay in there?”

What? Who?

“Katherine?”

No no no no no!

Katherine ripped her underwear out of her mouth and hurriedly called out. “I’m good, Mum! Sorry, had my headphones on!”

“No problem, baby,” came the reply from the other side of the door. “I’m going to bed now. Don’t stay up too late, ’kay?”

“Okay, Mum.” Katherine tried to get her heart rate to settle by sheer willpower, so she sounded partially normal, at least.

“Love you.” came the voice on the other side.

“Love you too. G’nite.”

As she heard her mother’s bedroom door close through the adjoining wall, Katherine studied her reflection. The moment was lost. There was no way she could continue tonight. Her legs were shaking from being in an unaccustomed position for so long, her wrist ached, and her vagina was tender.

But she didn’t mind. The whole thing had been incredible. She was just sorry to have missed out on such pleasures for so long.

But Katherine did wonder, at the very back of her mind, why she’d failed to reach orgasm. It wasn’t her mother’s fault. Even before she’d been interrupted, Katherine had been struggling to get herself over that hump in the road.

Maybe, she thought as she put on a nightdress, my body just wasn’t meant to have orgasms.

Little did Katherine realise just how wrong she was.

***

Katherine’s mum Barbara glanced up from the morning paper as her daughter shambled into the dining room. “My God, you look terrible this morning. Did you have trouble sleeping?”

“Just some weird dreams, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”

Barbara made a sympathetic noise as she buttered a slice of toast. “Not bad ones, I hope? You used to get a lot of those when you were little.”

“I’m too old for nightmares, Mum.”

But there’s no way I’ll ever be old enough to tell you what I dreamt last night. Or why I woke up covered in perspiration, my heart racing.

Katherine had hoped yesterday’s preoccupation with sex would go away once she started playing with herself. Like opening a valve to release all the pressure that had built up inside, so she could get back to her normal, boring life. Better being bored than strapped into an emotional roller coaster, one that kept wrenching her this way and that. A little self-pleasure; that ought to do the trick.

But it didn’t work. Maybe because Katherine wasn’t able to make herself come, no matter how many times she tried. Maybe it was because, even without the release of orgasm, masturbation turned out to be a lot more enjoyable than she’d anticipated. So now she was thinking about sex constantly. Sex, and the question of when she would get to experience it with someone else… and whether that someone might be a girl.

Whatever turmoil she had going on inside, Katherine still had to go to school. To her immense relief, she was able to throw herself into those first few classes, with the schoolwork interesting and challenging enough to get lost in. Also, when she took her seat in English Lit class, Katherine found herself sitting next to the same girl she’d encountered in Chemistry the previous day, and they briefly chatted. The girl was surprisingly friendly, far nicer than Katherine was used to. Maybe this school will be better, she told herself. The bullies at her previous school were starting to seem like a distant memory.

By lunchtime, she’d all but forgotten her morning’s troubles, and was glancing around with her tray, wondering where she could sit that would be quiet and out of the way.

“Hey! Hey, Katherine! Heeeeyy!! Kath-er-eeen! Over ‘ere!”

It was Terri, the short, raven-haired girl from yesterday. The one who had blithely confirmed that she and her female friends had sex on a regular basis. She was beckoning to Katherine from a table across the courtyard, her voice at full volume. Katherine felt her cheeks grow bright red in an instant.

She wasn’t familiar enough with the layout of the school grounds yet and hadn’t realised that her path would take her right around the lunch hall … and into direct sight of the outside tables, where her fiery red hair would be easily visible to everybody.

Sighing to herself, giving up on any hope for a peaceful, solitary lunch, Katherine made her way over.

As she carefully manoeuvred her way around the other students, Katherine saw that Terri was not alone, The other person at the table was Claire. Claire the Ice Queen. Claire the blonde-haired, blue eyed, Nordic princess. Fiona and Yolanda, the other half of yesterday’s foursome, were absent.

“You stuck around for a second day, then?” asked Terri with a laugh as Katherine joined them at the table.

“I guess. I mean I didn’t have …” she began.

“Aw, that’s smashin’. I’m really glad. I was sayin’ to Claire on the way home that I hoped we didn’t scare you off or nothin’.” She glanced over at her friend. “Ain’t that right?”

“I don’t–” Claire began.

“An’ it’s gotta be really hard, changin’ schools at the best of times. But havin’ to deal with the likes of us on your first day, that’s gotta be a bit much.”

“I wouldn’t–” Katherine protested, but Terri kept going.

“I’m really pleased to see you came back. I know we didn’t talk much, me an’ you. Didn’t really get the chance, did we? But I have a sense about people, don’t I, Claire?”

“Sure,” Claire replied, leaving it at that.

“An’ I sensed somethin’ good about you. You seem like a nice person. Somebody with a kind heart, know what I mean?”

Katherine said nothing, unsure whether an answer was needed or she’d even get a chance to give one. Terri apparently didn’t need to stop to breathe. She just kept on going.

“Oh! My name’s Terri,” the little girl continued brightly, “in case you didn’t remember.”

There was something about that girl’s grin. It was so big and so bright and so honest and so genuinely, almost sickeningly happy. It was impossible to do anything but feel your heart warm in return.

“Damn, T. It was only yesterday. Calm down!”

Impossible if your name wasn’t Claire, that is.

“No, no, I remember,” Katherine countered. “I’m, um, pretty good with names.”

How could I forget? Especially when I spent all night thinking about the four of you in bed together?

“Actually, that reminds me,” she added, gathering up her courage, “the stuff we talked about yesterday… Is it actually true?”

“The thing about my new shampoo?” Terri looked puzzled. “Yeah, definitely. I can lend you some if you like, but I don’t think it’ll work with your hair type.”

“No. I meant the other stuff. The, er …” Katherine faltered, not knowing how to say what she was thinking.

Claire smirked. “You mean the sex stuff.”

Katherine nodded.

“Yup. It’s true. It’s what we do,” Claire said.

“It’s one of the club’s signature activities,” added Terri, nodding authoritatively.

Claire rolled her eyes. “This again? For the last time, we are not a club. Not now, not never, no way!”

Terri snickered. “You’re only sayin’ that because you don’t wanna pay for a newsletter.”

Katherine knew she ought to leave it at that. But now that she was face-to-face with people who had done it – people she could talk to, no less! – she found herself overflowing with questions. Especially since she was constantly thinking about sex herself. How curious am I allowed to be? she wondered.

“So … er … is it just the four of you doing this?” she asked, seizing on the first query that came to mind.

“Oh yeah, yeah. Just us. Although…” Terri paused, her head halfway through a nod, pursing her lips in concentration. “Thinkin’ about it, that ain’t really true. I know Yolanda and Fi was doin’ stuff for a while, but we didn’t all of us get involved until Anne-Marie’s party. That’s when it all really kicked off. ‘Course, Gemma had already…”

The girl’s voice trailed off, her brown eyes appearing to focus on another time and place. Her smile slowly faded; her brow furrowed. A few seconds earlier, Terri had been happy and animated, but now it was as if someone had reached over and cut her strings.

“Erm…” Katherine tried after a second or two went by in silence.

“It’s just the four of us, no-one else.” Claire cut in, her tone firm.

Any follow-up questions from Katherine died on her lips. There were still things she wanted to know, but it was clear from Claire’s stern expression that they weren’t to be answered that day.

“Terri…” Claire said, speaking softly.

“Hmm? Oh. Oh, right.” The brunette shook herself, snapping back into the here and now. “Right, yeah. Yeah. Nah, it’s just us at the moment. Although…” And just like that, Terri was her cheery self again. “Me and Claire did do a boy once.”

“Oh God. Not this story,” Claire groaned, putting her face in her hands.

“It’s a good story!” came the protest. “Shows why girls are better off havin’ sex with other girls.”

Claire sighed. “Well, that’s certainly true. Fine. Just spare us the … intimate details. The poor girl hasn’t eaten yet.”

Katherine frowned. A boy? Did she want to hear about that? The boys she’d known in her last school had been immature, often downright vile. She’d found it hard to understand why the girls there had anything to do with them.

It struck her that she was only genuinely curious about what the girls did with each other. Boys hadn’t entered her mind at all. Even last night, at the height of her arousal, she hadn’t spared a thought for the male of the species.

It seemed so obvious now. Huh. I’m just not into boys, not at all. Guess I assumed that would change some day, that I’d want a boyfriend. Maybe a husband and kids. 

But… does that really mean I’m a lesbian? 

With a start, Katherine also realised that Claire was right – she hadn’t even started on lunch. Dipping into her bag, she withdrew a sandwich and an apple.

“So picture the scene, right?” Terri said as Katherine unwrapped the sandwich. “Me an’ Claire, our parents go way back. They’ve been friends since, like, before we were born. So our families go on holiday together.”

“Not all the time, though,” Claire said.

“No. But a lot. An’ a couple years ago, we went to this little place in France for a week.”

“Big place, you mean. It was, like, a converted farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Very nicely done, too. Lots of attention to detail. Must have cost a sodding fortune.”

“Yeah, okay. A big place. Whatever. You tellin’ this story or am I? So anyway, where was … ? Oh, yeah. We’d been there for a couple of days when me an’ Claire ran into this boy in the local town. He was kinda cute an’ he liked us … an’ we kinda liked him.”

“Wait. How did you know he liked you?” Katherine asked, thinking she’d spotted a hole in the story. “Was he English as well?”

“Nah,” Terri said, beaming proudly, “I speak French. My mum comes from near Calais. So I’m bilingual an’ bisexual. So, technically, I’m a quad, when you think about it.”

“That’s not actually a thing,” Claire said.

Katherine was astonished. Foreign languages were her worst subject, hands down. “Really?” she said. “Can you … say something in French?”

She had no way to know if Terri actually was speaking French or gibberish, but the other girl didn’t hesitate. “Vos taches de rousseur vont jusqu’en bas?” she replied, still wearing her familiar grin.

“What’s that mean?” Katherine asked, still awed. It certainly sounded genuine.

Claire shrugged. “Don’t ask me… all the French I know is ‘café’, and ‘croissant’.”

“Nothin’ much. Just means I’m thirsty,” Terri replied.

There was a water-bottle on the table by the girl’s hand. It was bright pink and half-full. But Terri didn’t drink from it, choosing instead to continue her story. “Anyway, we arranged to meet up in this field near the town for a bit of fun. Completely private, nice an’ sunny, perfect.”

Claire made a small, amused snort at this for reasons Katherine didn’t get.

“Things are goin’ great,” Terri went on. “We’re getting all hot an’ personal. Then, just as things are about to get interestin’, a certain somebody, namin’ no names, goes an’ takes her top off.”

Claire smiled but said nothing.

“Now, I don’t know if you know this,” Terri continued, addressing Katherine, “but girls can last. They’ve got stamina, right? Quick recovery time. Can go for hours if they want. They don’t just … finish at the drop of a hat. Or the flash of a pair of tits, if you know what I mean.”

“It wasn’t his fault. You can’t blame him, T,” Claire finally said, trying not to laugh. “I have magic boobs.”

“I had a really beautiful sundress on,” Terri grumbled, ignoring her. “I loved that dress. An’ he sodding ruined it.”

“He was just giving you a souvenir, T.” Claire was flushed with the effort of keeping her laughter in. “Something to remember him by.”

Terri glared as Claire desperately clamped a hand over her mouth in a failed attempt to contain her mirth. “Oh, I remembered all right,” Terri said. “I remembered havin’ to walk back lookin’ like I’d been attacked by some sort of … crazed ice-cream van. An’ I never got the stains out.”

Katherine was struggling to maintain a neutral expression, but with an increasing lack of success. The sound of Claire’s muffled laughter combined with the excessively serious look on Terri’s face was downright infectious. And the grumpier Terri became, the worse it got. The last thing Katherine wanted to do was cause offence, but she could feel giggles threatening to escape.

“There’s some very good stain removers now,” she offered. “I’m sure if you can get one that works on, like, blood, then it might be okay for… erm … “

She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence, but she didn’t have to. Her words had clearly inspired Claire. The blonde took her hand away from her mouth long enough to make a suggestion of her own. “My washing machine has a ‘half-load’ option. That about right, T? A half-load? Or do you think his was a full load?” She quickly covered her mouth again.

What she’d said didn’t make sense to Katherine … but it was somehow meant to. By then, tears were starting to roll down Claire’s face, and Katherine had to bite back a laugh. Like seeing somebody else yawning, her body was determined to react no matter how Katherine fought it.

“I tried everythin’. Absolutely everythin’ I could think of,’’ grumbled an oblivious Terri, all but lost in her annoyance. “But nothin’ worked. My beautiful dress was destroyed by that boy. That bloody boy an’ his … his damn … demon semen!”

That was too much for Katherine. She and Claire both howled with laughter. It wasn’t very funny, not really, but that didn’t matter. The whole situation was so ridiculous that one was left with two choices: laugh or explode.

As she gasped for breath, Katherine realised she had to be drawing attention to herself. They were surrounded by other students, and lots of them had to be wondering what was making that strange redhead laugh so hard. She also realised that, for the first time in a very long while, it didn’t bother her at all. Let them stare if they want. I couldn’t give a toss. 

“An’ what’s the craic here, then?” asked a new, amused voice.

Katherine looked up. Fiona and Yolanda had arrived and were making themselves at home.

“We got held up in th’ toilets,” Fiona grumbled, taking a seat. Some eejit sat in the cubicle next to us, an’ they was yammerin’ on their phone for feckin’ ages.”

“Yuck. That’s so unhygienic,” Claire said.

“Um … why would that be a problem?” Katherine asked.

“We were … together,” Yolanda said simply.

It took a moment for the girl’s words to sink in. “Oh,” Katherine. She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Fiona went on to explain what happened, half-protesting at the way Yolanda had manhandled her (“Ever tried not makin’ any noise when somebody’s forcin’ ya t’come? It’s feckin’ impossible!”) All the while, Katherine felt the half-crazed thoughts of the previous night return with a vengeance.

They’ve just had sex, she thought. At school!

How the hell is that even possible?

For the rest of the day, that question was never far from Katherine’s mind. But there was also the memory of her lunchtime laughter, as well as her chat with the girl from English Lit class, and a rather surprising but welcome memory of Yolanda helping her with a tricksy problem in Business Studies after lunch.

She began to realise that things were different in her new school, and definitely better. Two days had gone by and not a single nasty thing had been said about her or her red hair. People liked her. They really did!

In fact, a few of them liked Katherine enough to invite her to sit with them at lunch. That never would have happened in her old school.

As the days went by, Katherine’s cautiously hopeful feelings about her new acquaintances seemed to bear fruit. They accepted her as one of their own.

Finally, she had friends. And for the first time in ages, she was happy.

But there was still one thing they had that she lacked. One thing keeping Katherine from becoming a full-fledged member of the Bad Girls Club.

Sex. They did it. She didn’t. She still wasn’t even able to bring herself to climax, despite trying over and over. Oh, it felt nice, that much was true… but the reward, the payoff for her efforts lay tantalizingly out of Katherine’s reach.

That was about to change, though. In a big way.

On to Chapter Three!

by kinkys_sis

I was doing my usual thing, wandering aimlessly around the museum, something I’d been doing almost every Saturday for two years. My dad had got me a season ticket after he added up how much time and money I was spending there.

Now and then, I’d stop at an exhibit and get my drawing pad and pencils out. At seventeen, I was already an accomplished sketch artist. I’d done several hundred sketches, many drawn in the museum over time.

My friends thought my hobby was kind of weird. Some might even say nerdy. But I didn’t let it bother me. It’s what I like to do, and I’m not sure which gave me more pleasure, the drawing itself or the knowledge I was building up. Or maybe I just enjoyed being in my own little world.

Today, they were unveiling a new painting in the Egyptian section. I had an hour to kill beforehand, ample time to draw whatever struck me. I loved all the museum exhibits, but lately I found myself drawn to the Egyptian collection. I couldn’t give you any particular reason, but more and more, it’s where I’d end my Saturday visits. It was said some found the Egyptian rooms rather foreboding, even scary, but I never had. Besides the wonderful artwork, it was the history and the many unanswered questions about the ancient world that intrigued me.

I’d read a small piece in the Times about the treasures of this previously unknown princess. There’d been quite a stir when her tomb was discovered a couple of years ago, right about the time I’d started haunting the museum. Then political turmoil erupted in the Middle East — again — and the Egyptian authorities accepted the British Museum’s offer to bring the treasures to England for safekeeping. A team of Egyptian antiquities experts accompanied the many artefacts and worked with a British team, carrying on their research out of harm’s way. Little else had been released to the public.

For a few weeks now, I’d become aware of a woman who appeared to be watching me. I wasn’t sure whether it was my imagination or not. I mean, why would anyone want to keep their eyes on insignificant me? I’d guessed it must be some kind of coincidence. But now I saw her again. Not actually looking directly at me, but sort of hovering nearby for no reason I could see.

I’d seen her so often that I knew her face well enough for my pencil to fly over my pad from memory. I only needed an odd glance to check a feature as I drew.

She looked to be somewhere in her late thirties. Definitely not English, but exactly what her origins might have been, I hadn’t a clue. She always looked very formal in a business suit, her skirt long enough to cover her knees but tight enough to show off her beautiful figure. Her hair was usually tied in a small bun on top of her head, as it was today. She wore only light traces of makeup, except for her eyes, which were quite sharply highlighted in a very non-European way. When I next glanced back to where she’d been standing, I found she’d disappeared. But I’d gotten enough to finish the sketch. I only needed one of my softer pencils to add shading and bring the drawing to life.

I looked closely at the finished picture. It reminded me of something or someone, but what or who, I couldn’t bring to mind. It was a puzzle.

 ***

I must have dallied too long, for the hall was crowded when I got there. I wasn’t going to see much unless I forced my way through. But I doubted anyone would mind a girl my age making room for herself. So, with the occasional excuse me and the odd squeeze and push, I eventually made my way to the rope at the front.

The picture was still covered with a curtain. A fairly large group of important-looking people stood nearby, chatting amongst themselves. A number of them were clearly not English, and I was startled to see the woman from my sketch standing to one side. I thought I saw the merest trace of a smile when she saw me … but maybe not.

A hush settled over the crowd as one of the dignitaries prepared to unveil the painting. I had no idea what to expect, for little had been given away. There’d been a preview in the Times, but it offered few details. All it said was the portrait might be the most accurate depiction to date of an ancient Egyptian ruler and would serve as the centrepiece of an exhibition set to open in a few months’ time. It was all a bit vague to me, but I was intrigued.

I held my breath in anticipation as this guy took hold of the red-velvet cord. He paused, keeping us waiting as he revelled in his brief moment of glory. The curtain snagged when he finally pulled. He grimaced before giving another tug, and the curtain dropped away. There was a collective gasp when the woman, or girl, was revealed. It was a stunning picture, a lifelike image of one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen.

The guy was speaking into a microphone. I missed half of what he said, captivated as I was by the face that gazed back at me. Mixed thoughts filled my mind. Astonishment at such beauty. I marvelled at the skill of the artist, how she had breathed such life into a painting. I also imagined I saw a hint of sadness. Perhaps it was in her eyes. I felt myself drawn into them. Why was she sad? Or was I only imagining it? I also realised that she vaguely resembled the woman whose picture I’d just drawn.

I jerked back to catch the end of the guy’s remarks. He was at the point of telling us that research into the sarcophagus and other artifacts was ongoing. What sarcophagus? I’d missed that bit. It seemed there was already a growing but intense debate as to who the subject of the portrait really was. She was clearly someone of importance, whose sarcophagus had been made of solid gold. Many other wonders were still being catalogued. But it was already being claimed that, in terms of historical importance and sheer monetary value, the hoard was second only to that of Tutankhamun.

The guy then told us a little about the artist, a woman by the name of Amunet Kamal, who had been called back to Egypt suddenly and could not be with us that day. Though Miss Kamal had a free hand in using her imagination, he said, she’d also worked in close collaboration with — and here he gestured toward my mystery woman — one of the specialists involved in the research.

“Professor Lassat of the Cairo Museum will provide us with a bit of perspective.”

My sketch subject stepped forward, accepting the microphone.

“Thank you all for your interest and your attendance here today,” she began. “I have been working on this project since the tomb was discovered. It was some time ago that we established that the occupant of the sarcophagus was a previously unknown princess by the name of Harsiese. The research so far leads us to believe that her father was the Pharaoh Hor-Aha from the thirty-first century BC. There is much debate surrounding this pharaoh. Indeed, little is known about him.”

She gestured toward the painting. “You might wonder, then, how such a lifelike portrait can be produced. It was common among the Romans for the nobility or the wealthy to have death masks made of their deceased loved ones. It was not previously known in Egypt. But it is what they did with Harsiese. Beneath the golden mask we found a death mask, an exact image of her, which was used by the artist to produce this painting.”

The guy in charge of the proceedings looked at his watch somewhat pointedly. The professor noticed it and said only a few more words before handing the microphone back to him. He thanked everyone for attending and abruptly brought things to a close.

It was all over, and slowly the crowd thinned. The rope barrier was removed and a long bench put in its place. I sat for a while with a few other visitors, and I recalled the sudden chill that had made me shiver at the mention of her name. Harsiese. But why?

Over and over, my gaze was drawn back to her eyes. Gradually, I lost all awareness of anyone else. There was just me and the girl — for I’d decided she was in fact little more than a girl and not quite a grown woman. Perhaps a year or two older than myself.

I jumped in fright when a hand took hold of my shoulder. Awareness flooded back and my head snapped around, and there was Professor Lassat.

“It’s almost closing time,” she said. “You’ve been staring at her for more than two hours. You haven’t moved once. I kept watching you to make sure you were all right. But now you have to go. I expect I’ll see you next week as usual.”

I was struggling to get my brain working. Two hours! I had no idea. It seemed like only minutes since I’d sat down. Her hand was still on my shoulder as I went to stand. The room spun, my legs felt weak, and I felt myself falling. But then her hands steadied me.

“Perhaps you should sit a minute to recover. I’ll call security to tell them we’re still here. Take your time.” Then she spoke quietly into a small, phone-like device.

I wasn’t listening to her. I was staring back at the girl. What had happened? Where had I been? I felt like she’d spoken to me, but of course, that was impossible. She was a painting, not a person.

I got up from my seat and walked towards her. Her eyes seemed to lead me on. I felt myself drowning again, trembling under a wave of sadness.

Professor Lassat approached from behind. I could feel her body just brushing against mine. She raised a hand and gently touched my cheek. “You feel her, don’t you? Does she speak to you? I must know. Tell me what you feel. What do you hear?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure,” I replied. “It’s like she’s trying to tell me something, but I can’t catch what. I know she’s not happy. No, it’s more than that. She’s deeply sad. Angry, even.”

The woman brought her lips to my ear and whispered, “Look deep into her eyes and let yourself go. Let her thoughts come through. I believe that you might be the one. Let her speak to you.”

I barely heard her last words, though I was vaguely aware of her hand dropping from my cheek and circling my body, holding me tight.

“Listen,” she repeated. I relaxed my body, feeling safe with this woman holding me.

It was an alien language when the girl spoke, yet I understood: “Is it you? Have you come? I have waited so long. And wondered. Where were you? Why were you not here when I needed you? I cannot hear or see you, but I feel your presence. Come back to me.”

My mind reeled. How could I both hear and understand her? It wasn’t possible. Yet she knew me. How could that be, with thousands of years between us?

I felt a brief flash of anger from her, then genuine anguish. “You cannot have forgotten me. You promised, and I have waited, knowing one day you would come. Now…” The voice trailed off.

It made no sense. I hadn’t spoken, yet she’d read my mind, or so it seemed. Unless I was going mad. Then I had a thought. Why had I always been drawn to this section of the museum? It hadn’t ever been a conscious decision, but there had never been a doubt I would be here for the unveiling.

“You are not mad,” the voice said. “Yes, I hear your thoughts. Not always clearly. You are far away. You doubt that I know you. Yet I feel the raised mark beneath your right breast — where it always has been.”

I felt the touch of fingers under my clothes. They softly caressed the small, raised area, grazing the bare flesh.

“You see, it is there.” The thought came from the girl, but the voice seemed to be coming from the woman behind me.

The sadness on the face in the picture seemed to change. It gave me a small smile. “I touch you now as I have so many times before. Feel me, you know it is me, your Harsiese.”

Once more, the name startled me. For the briefest moment, I didn’t think I’d ever heard it before Lassat had mentioned it, yet I knew it. “Harsiese,” I whispered, “is it you?”

The fog in my mind seemed to clear. Her face swirled before me. Her arms reached out. “Come, Iput,” she said. “Come back to me.”

Hands caressed my breasts. The nipples came to life under manipulating fingers. I felt the warmth of her love as I fell into her arms. The familiar warmth of her body beneath my searching touch. “How I’ve missed you, my love. Touch me, remind me of how you make me feel,” I beseeched her.

Then a hand pressed between my legs. Fingers curled upwards, and I surrendered to the familiar sensation. I felt only love as she brought her lips towards mine. We kissed with a mounting passion. “Harsiese, my Harsiese,” I gasped.

I pressed close to her, one hand going to her breasts, the other moving up between her legs until I found that place where I knew how to drive her mad with my probing fingers.

I heard her hiss as she jerked and writhed. First one finger… then two… now three. The slippery and creamy moisture oozing from her eased the way.

She was doing the same to me. My hips thrust down hard on the fingers that penetrated my cunt. Centuries of pent-up frustration were released as we fucked each other. It was almost violent the way we made love. In unison, we plied each other’s clits, squeezed breasts, pulled nipples, bit each other’s lips.

Release came in a headlong rush. Then I was reaching, ever higher, for that final glorious moment. I heard myself screaming out, in a language I shouldn’t have known, Fuck me harder — now!

Slowly, I came back from the dizzying heights I had reached. The woman was standing in front of me, smiling sympathetically. “Are you alright? You gave me a bit of a fright for a minute. It was like you were having a fit.”

I could only stare at her, digesting the meaning of her question. Then: “You mean… you didn’t… it wasn’t you?”

She looked puzzled. “It wasn’t me what?”

“We didn’t just … do things together. You know…”

She didn’t answer the question, but instead said, “I knew it. You are the one she’s been waiting for. You’ve spoken to her, haven’t you? And perhaps you’re suggesting more.”

I couldn’t take it in. It made no sense at all. It must have been her. Yet, she didn’t have a hair out of place, whilst I felt I’d been well and truly fucked.

“I don’t understand. Who are you?” I asked her.

“Come, let me show you something.”

She took my hand and led me to the far end of the gallery. There she pressed a series of numbers into a keypad, and a hidden door, indistinguishable from the wall to either side of it, swung inward. I followed behind. The door closed of its own accord as I gasped at the sight of the many objects resting on tables and standing on the floor. Everything seemed to be made of gold. But it was the sarcophagus, dominating the room, that drew my attention.

The ornately carved lid had been removed and placed on a large table. Lassat watched me as I slowly walked towards it. My fingers traced the carved hieroglyphics: Herein lies the Princess Harsiese. Beloved daughter of Hor-Aha. Now gone to the God Horus of her own free will. May Horus cherish her as did I. It was a shock to realise I had understood what was said.

I turned back towards the sarcophagus. Lassat spoke quietly as I approached, in the same strange language I’d heard from the portrait. Yet, again, I understood every word. “As I swore on oath, Harsiese, I have found her, and I have brought her to you.”

I looked at the golden face mask and again, the world seemed to spin. There was only a dim light, a shrouding mist, and then the scent of perfume. A perfume I knew well, though I had never encountered it in this life.

“It is you, Iput. I see you clearly now. You have come back to me.”

I saw her. Her utter beauty. The joy on her face as she climbed from the sarcophagus, stepping lightly to the floor. Her hands reaching out. “Come to me.”

This couldn’t be real. Yet I felt her arms around me, pulling me close. The warmth of her naked body, the softness of her lips on mine. The kiss I was so familiar with. I knew her legs would open even before they did, that she would thrust herself against my thigh. It was how she had often welcomed me into her arms.

Harsiese leaned her head back. Her eyes flashing as she gazed into mine. “My juices flow as they always have when you are with me. Do you feel them, Iput?”

Her hips undulated, rubbing hard against me. And indeed, I felt the warm trickle down my leg. I spoke in her tongue, though I couldn’t understand how it was possible. “Yes, my Princess, I feel them. My heart rejoices that I am here to pleasure you. Kiss me again.”

The kiss grew wilder as she humped her pussy on my thigh. I waited, knowing the moment was fast approaching. She jerked once, arching on her toes. Then her hands pressed down on my shoulders. It was time. I sank to my knees and pressed my mouth to the wetness between her thighs. Her pussy lips were demanding as they slithered over my probing tongue. I drew her enlarged clit between my lips. She wailed and shrieked and writhed. Her fingers entwined in my hair as she clasped me tightly to her cunt, stammering through clenched teeth, “N… now, my sweet Iput … love me!”

My fingers gripped the glorious globes of her arse. I sucked hard at her clit, then worked my tongue as fast as I was able. She responded as if possessed by demons, juddering hard as her wail grew louder, until it suddenly cut off. Her pussy pulsed, pouring her nectar into my mouth.

I looked up towards her face. Her expression was one of total rapture. She pulled me to my feet and back into her arms. “Iput, I love you so deeply it pains me.” Her kiss was gentle now, and loving. I brimmed with joy. I was complete again.

She broke the kiss and took half a step back, though she held my hands. “They took you away from me. That was not your fault. Yet somehow, here you are. You’ve come back.”

She drew me down to lie between the piles of cushions that littered the floor. For the first time I realised my clothes had gone, although I couldn’t remember how or when it happened. We lay naked, our bodies pressed together in each other’s arms.

“Too much time has passed,” she said. “My sadness breaks my heart. I hated them all, my father included, for taking you from me. But most of all, I hated them for not letting me say goodbye to you.”

I pressed a finger to her lips. “My Princess, my love, I am here now. We are together again.”

Harsiese smiled, but the sadness returned in a moment. “You are only here, my sweet, so that we can say goodbye. A goodbye on our own terms. You always knew the time would come when I would have to go to my resting place within my chambers deep underground, beneath the monument they built for me. It is now that time.”

Once more, I asked what I knew in my heart was a futile question. “Is there nothing that can be done? Why must they take you away? Surely there’s—”

She stilled my lips with her fingers. “There is nothing to be done, my sweet Iput. I knew it from the day my younger brother was born. I had been the rightful heir to the throne, which was something the priests, and my own father, violently opposed. A female pharaoh was not acceptable. It could not be conceived. It was made even worse when they discovered that I had taken you — a young serving girl — as my lover. It was my choice to offer myself to the gods and to die this way. Tonight, you must run. They must not find you for they will surely kill you. Go far away. I have left gold, enough for you to lead the life you want.”

Hot tears ran down my cheeks. What she said was true, but I had dreaded this day. “But cannot I come with you? I would gladly die if it were in your arms. Is it not possible?”

“No, Iput, it is not possible. The priests will not allow it. My last command was for my high priestess, Lassat, to find you, to bring you to me for this one final meeting before we say farewell. She has done as I commanded, and here you are. I would ask that you reward her for her centuries of searching. She has devoted her life to bringing us together again.

“It is almost time. You just made love to me. Now I will love you this one last time.”

***

I was on my hands and knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Lassat held me tightly and whispered, “Calm yourself, little one. It is done. She’s gone.”

I wailed even louder in response to those words. She held me even more firmly. Her warmth seemed to flow into my body, calming me. I stopped shaking and looked up at her.

“You are Lassat, but … are you then the same Lassat that Harsiese spoke of? How can that be?”

“Yes, I am she. Do not concern yourself with the how, only that it is so.” She helped me to my feet. “Will you come with me? Let’s say our final farewell. I will never come here again. My task is done.”

I followed her to the sarcophagus and, side by side, we looked down at her. Like most mummies, her bandages had rotted and fallen away. I was thankful that the masks hid her face. A jewelled dagger was clasped in her hands. I knew then how she had died. It struck me as strange that they had left her holding the dagger when they mummified her. Perhaps because it was the instrument that took her to her god.

Something sparkled between her fingers. Lassat reached in and carefully extracted a tiny ring. “I believe this belongs to you,” she said.

I lifted my right hand and gasped. My own ring — a ring I had worn for years — was not there. It was that same ring that Lassat now passed to me. I couldn’t understand how it had got to be in Harsiese’s grasp, only that it had. Lassat slipped it back onto my finger.

The ring had always been a mystery. No one, not even my mother, knew where it came from, but it had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, when I was a baby. “Do you know how I came to have the ring?” I asked. “Here in the present, I mean.”

“No. All I know is that Harsiese gave it to you when you became lovers.”

I took both of Harsiese’s hands in my own. “Goodbye, my dearest love,” I whispered. I swear I felt her hands tremble beneath my touch. The mask on her face seemed to glow. I knew she was content. At last, she was at rest.

I turned towards the door and Lassat came with me. “Harsiese told me that I must reward you,” she said. “But how?”

Her face took on a smile that showed off her ageless beauty. I marvelled at the splendour of it.

“My work here is over. There is much I could tell them, but I choose not to. I did not want the tomb discovered. There was nothing I could do to prevent it, and yet it has led me to you. My princess asked me to look after you. It’s all I have now — to make you happy again if you’ll let me.”

I was puzzled. I didn’t need looking after. I had a home and a family. But I saw the pleading in her eyes, the tremble of her lips. Then I knew. She had loved her princess. Now she would love me.

All my feelings of sadness drained away. I held out my hand to her.

“Shall we go now?” I asked.

We paused at the painting on our way out. She was smiling now, just as I was. I held up my sketch of Lassat and compared it to the portrait. The resemblance was now obvious, but what did it mean?

Lassat smiled. “You see it, don’t you, the likeness?”

“Yes, I do. But why?”

“I am her mother.”

My mind did a somersault. I tried to make sense of what she’d just told me. But I knew it was too much for me to comprehend. It was enough that she was here.

“And you and I?”

“Is it not obvious? In time, we will be lovers.”

I wondered how I would explain the sudden appearance of this woman to my parents. Something told me Lassat would have the answer.

For several months, my visits to the museum continued. I would sit in front of the portrait and think of Harsiese. She never spoke to me again. She was no longer there. At the same time, the pain in my heart faded, and my love for Lassat grew stronger by the day.

 ***

The portrait of Harsiese gazed down at us from our living room wall. After a few years the relics had all been returned to Egypt. The museum had put the portrait into storage. Eventually we put in an offer to buy it from them, and they accepted.

“Lassat, for almost twenty years you haven’t aged at all,” I told her. “Until maybe the last couple. Now, we’re getting older together. I won’t ask how this is possible. I doubt you really know. All I do know is it’s made our life together perfect.”

“I think perhaps I do know,” she said. “Harsiese committed herself to the god Horus. I suspect he has had a hand in this. Our family name — Hor-Aha, is derived from Horus. We were, and I still am, very close to the god. He has looked out for you and me.”

“I was about to say that the Egyptian gods, they don’t really exist. But maybe they do!”

“There is one question I know has crossed your mind, but you’ve never asked. Yes, Harsiese and I were lovers before she found you. I did not mind that she took a lover of her own age. I was happy as long as she was. That’s all that mattered to me. That you and I would then become lovers was what she wanted. You have been my reward for the years of searching, the anguish of failure, until at last success. Harsiese has found peace, and so have I. I’ve also found true love. And I know you are happy. What more could we want?”

I reached out to her and drew her into my arms. We kissed deeply until… we both froze. The clear sound of a chuckle could be heard. We turned and stared at Harsiese. Her expression had changed yet again, perhaps to one of amused innocence.

The End

A brief summary (well, it USED to be brief…) of what has transpired thus far. (To get a additional breakdown of the earlier chapters, please see Pages From a Diary Chapter Links )

Eleven-year-old Mallory is a bright but lonely girl with strict fundamentalist Christian parents whose marriage is going through a rough patch. One day, Mal gets acquainted with a girl named Julie, who lives with her father Jason and his girlfriend Lisa. Soon, the girls become fast friends, and before very long, more than friends. Mallory has a difficult time reconciling her emerging sexuality with her faith, but soon finds her desire for Julie and her interest in sex getting the upper hand, especially once she learns to masturbate.

Meanwhile, her parents’ relationship is really starting to founder. By then, Mallory and Julie are beginning to experiment sexually, but don’t really know what they’re doing. Julie’s dad’s girlfriend Lisa finds out about their curiosity and offers advice, then the girls persuade her to undress and join them in bed. Mal and Julie have full-on sex for the first time, then Lisa gets involved. 

Soon thereafter, Mallory and Julie are confronted by a fifteen-year-old girl from their school named Megan, who tells them she recognizes their feelings for each other, admits to being gay herself, and invites them to drop by her place a few days later. Megan only wants to hang out and chat, but Mallory casually takes charge of the situation, and soon the three of them are naked and having sex. In the weeks to come, they will get together again every now and then for more of the same.

Mallory’s mother Sharon is spending more and more nights away from the home, supposedly staying with her own mother. So she isn’t there when Mal’s father Dan collapses and nearly dies from alcohol poisoning. Only Mallory’s quick thinking and immediate response saves his life. Once Dan is taken to the hospital, Mal learns that her mom isn’t really at Grandma’s house, but out with another man.

Not long after her father is released from the hospital, Mallory is taken out on a shopping trip by her mother. During the lengthy drive, Sharon explains her side of the story, treating her daughter more like an adult than she ever has before. Mal finds herself feeling sympathetic… but then she’s startled to catch herself having sexual thoughts about her mother, which leave her feeling flustered and confused. Those thoughts won’t go away, either.

Sharon soon gets a job at a senior center, and is making plans to go back to school. Needless to say, Mal’s father is most unhappy with this development. On the other hand, Mallory is quite pleased for her mom, and takes the opportunity to get in her lap and give her playful, but subtly flirtatious kisses. More then ever, she suspects that her mother is secretly gay.

Mal is gradually becoming more popular at school. One result is that she and Julie are invited to a sleepover with Emma and Cindy, a couple of Julie’s friends. Once the parents are asleep, the girls get into a discussion concerning masturbation, which leads to everyone getting naked and engaging in mutual touching. Emma and Cindy love it, and the four of them get together for more fun a couple of weeks later.

Mallory finds a new student project: playing keyboards in a rock band of high school students supervised by Jason, who has also been teaching his daughter Julie how to do mixing work. Mal is much younger than the other members, but her skills soon win the others over. One of the band members is a sweet hippie girl named Jamie, and Mal is immediately attracted to her.

An ugly scene occurs at the home of Mal’s grandmother, where her mother Sharon is staying until she finds her own place. When Sharon makes a disparaging comment about lesbians, Mal loses her temper in a big way. In her anger, she comes out there and then, venting until her mother breaks down and cries. Mal quickly becomes remorseful, but the damage is done.

A couple of unhappy developments occur. First, Mallory’s parents make it official: they are to divorce. Mal is utterly disgusted with them both. Second, two of Julie’s cousins have vanished without explanation, eleven-year-old twin girls named Anna and Nettie. A search is underway, but without success thus far. Mallory has never met these girls, but she prays as best she can for their safe return.

A few days later, the twins are found and their kidnapper arrested, but not before he murdered Anna. Nettie is still alive, but devastated, and the girls’ parents go completely to pieces, turning on each other in their grief. Obviously, they are unable to take care of Nettie, so after a family discussion in which Mal is asked to participate, Jason, Lisa and Julie decide to bring Nettie into their home for the time being. Mal vows to do everything she can to help Jason’s niece to recover from her emotional trauma.

Mal and Julie pay Jamie a visit. The girls admit to being lovers, then tempt Jamie into masturbating with them. This quickly leads to much more.

Mallory gets to meet Nettie soon after that, when Jason brings her home. Sure enough, she is in bad shape: unable or unwilling to do or say much, often screaming herself awake from nightmares.

Mal’s band is making serious progress, which gets her and Julie a sleepover at Jamie’s place. Needless to say, music isn’t the only item on the agenda that night.

The next day, while practicing her keyboard part on a Black Sabbath cover, Mal puts the album on, only to get a positive response from Nettie, who asks to hear more. It’s the first time she’s shown interest in anything since her twin’s sister’s death. Mal, Julie, Lisa and Jason are is thrilled. Could their tormented guest be on the mend?

In the days that follow, Nettie seems to be emerging from her torpor. In addition to her burgeoning interest in heavy metal, she becomes absorbed by Jason’s medical textbooks.

At band rehearsal, Mal’s and her fellow group members toy with a concept: focus on Eighties pop. At the same rehearsal, they also make plans to perform live, and even manage to work up a cool original song. The entire band is thrilled.

Mallory has a frank discussion with her mother Sharon about sexuality and desire. She admits to listening to her masturbate herself through the wall, then gets Sharon to confess that she has overheard Mallory touching herself as well… and it arouses her. Somehow, Mal persuades Sharon to stay in her room instead, then mother and daughter masturbate together.

The next morning, Sharon is feeling guilty and uneasy, even though she admits to wanting what she and Mallory did the night before. Mal manages to ease her mother’s conscience a bit before they both leave for school.

Mal and her friends run into trouble at school when a lout named Floyd teases Nettie about her sister’s death until she cries. An enraged Julie attacks him, then Mal, Cindy and Emma join in the brawl to keep the much larger Floyd from hurting their friend. Luckily, the principal breaks up the fight, then goes on to suspend Floyd for bullying.

Later at home, Mallory joins Sharon on the couch. They snuggle, then end up grinding their bodies together until they both climax, still in their clothes. This time, mother and daughter share their first passionate kiss.

A concept is discussed and agreed on for the band’s presentation, one that draws on the Eighties film Back to the Future. They continue to make preparations for their upcoming gig.

While visiting her new lesbian friends Katerina and Tracy, Mal’s mom Sharon is stranded there overnight due to snow flurries. Upon returning home, she tells Mallory that her friends both had their first gay sexual experiences as young girls, and thinking about that excites her. This leads to Sharon asking her daughter if she’s had sex. Mal’s reply is yes, she’s quite experienced with girls, but won’t name anyone she’s been with other than Julie. Sharon admits she’s beginning to think of herself as a lesbian, and Mallory picks that moment to come on to her mother. They share a heated kiss, but Sharon isn’t ready to have sex with her daughter just yet. Instead, they strip naked and masturbate together.

Shortly thereafter, Mal and Julie get Megan and Jamie together for a hot foursome, which is a rousing success. A couple of nights later, Sharon tells Mallory she’s decided to leave the church. They share a passionate kiss, but Sharon pulls away and tells her daughter they can’t do anything more just yet, as her period has started.

Mal waits as patiently as she can for several days. Finally, that Saturday, it happens — Mallory and Sharon make love for the first time. 

Only one melancholy note mars Mal’s otherwise wonderful weekend: Nettie nearly makes it through the birthday party Jason, Lisa and the girls have arranged, but she breaks down completely once most of the guests have departed, still mourning her sister.

The next day, Mallory gets a huge surprise when Sharon interrupts her in the midst of practicing guitar parts, intent on sex with her daughter. Every other time, Mal took the lead in their lovemaking; now Sharon is eager to seize the initiative. They engage in a heated fuck. Afterwards, Mallory lets her mom know that Julie wants in on the action between them.

The next day, Julie drops by… then she, Mal and Sharon come together in a very satisfying threesome. By then, Sharon has fully embraced her identity as a lesbian, and admits to a special attraction to young girls. The three of them make plans to hook up on the following week.

And now we rejoin our story, which concludes with this chapter. Thanks for joining us for the ride!

by Rachael Yukey

March 25th, 2007

Sunday afternoons at Home One are always Me Time, because Dad has a habit of doing work right after church, and right now he’s getting his heavy equipment ready to roll out. We’re at the end of March, and if the weather cooperates he might be in the fields within four or five weeks. Not only is there spring tillage and planting to be done, but he didn’t get all of the corn combined before the snow flew last year, so he still has crop to bring in. He’ll probably end up having to hire a couple of people to operate machinery to get it all done.

He said something funny the other day: if this was thirty or forty years ago, I’d be pretty close to getting plunked right into a tractor seat at my age! In the old days, farm kids did everything, the moment they were physically big enough. Nowadays, there’s pretty strict laws regarding those things. You have to be old enough to get a driver’s license before you can operate tractors and combines. I’m just glad my grandpa sold off the dairy herd and switched to cash grain. Otherwise I’d have been doing barn chores by the time I was five or so. No laws against that!

I don’t really have much to talk about this week. We had a little birthday party for Nettie’s dead sister Annamarie after school on Tuesday. It was just Julie’s family and me. Nettie served each of us cake and set a place for Annamarie, too. She set one of the dolls I gave her for her birthday next to the empty plate.

“It’s Anna’s doll now,” she said solemnly. “When I play Monster High, it’s going to be there for Anna.”

I wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that, but I sensed that there’s some healing going on. She hasn’t really talked about her sister until now. I think it’s good that she is.

In other news, I told the band on Thursday PLEASE, let’s not add any more songs that need a second guitar until I can play the three we already have. I can do “I Need You Tonight” really well, but I’m not there yet with “Authority Song.” My chord changes are sluggish, and my rhythm strumming still sounds stiff and awkward. I’m not even going to start working on “Fallen Angel” until I feel good about “Authority Song.” Just like two weeks ago, I now have the whole afternoon ahead of me, and at least now my fingers have toughened up some. Here I go!

April 1st, 2007

I lost my hetero virginity this week, and decided I like boys better than girls. I told Julie we can’t see each other anymore. She begged me not to go, but I have to be true to who I am. I hope to have my first baby before my 16th birthday.

APRIL FOOLS!

Okay, what REALLY happened this week? Well, for one thing, Mom and Dad signed the divorce papers. It’s officially over. I’m sad and relieved all at the same time. No kid wants their parents to get divorced, but hard cold reality: Mom and Dad are both okay when they’re apart. Together, they’re impossible!

Monday was a teacher’s workshop day at school, so I rode to Wadena with Mom and shadowed her classes. It was fun, even though I didn’t understand a word of ANYTHING anyone was saying.

Before the first class, I met Katerina. She’s not too different from how I pictured her: big and butch, with a beautiful smile, a bold laugh and a strong personality. She shook my hand like a grown-up and treated me like one, too, which I really appreciated.

After classes were over, we went to dinner with Katerina and her partner Tracy. Tracy is completely different from Katerina… what you’d call a lipstick lesbian, I guess. She wore a flowing dress, and her long, silky hair was done up in elaborate braids. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to watch them having sex.

By the way, Katerina and Tracy set Mom up on a date with one of their lesbian friends! She and a woman named Nadine are going to go out next weekend, when I’m at Dad’s. If she’s going to start dating, I don’t know how long Mom will still be free to hook up with me and Julie. We’ll have to make sure and enjoy it while we can!

At rehearsal this week, I managed to play guitar on “Authority Song” with reasonable competence. I’m now working on “Fallen Angel,” and Jamie’s right… it’s much more difficult. The left-hand shapes are simple enough, but the right hand has a lot more work to do.

We’ve completely nailed down around twenty 80s songs, with a bunch more in progress. We’ll easily have enough before we have to do a full multi-set show.

Oh, yeah – Roger’s dad finished the new backdrop, and it’s beautiful! It’ll give the stage a really nice touch. Everyone in the band is practically bouncing up and down with excitement, looking forward to our first gig.

April 22nd, 2007

Okay, I can see that this diary is starting to run down, like an old watch. This is my first entry in three weeks. I’d like to say it’s because I’ve just been too busy, but that’s not entirely the truth. When I started this I was lonely and conflicted, unsure of who or what I was. Having this diary as a sounding board for my thoughts and feelings was a big part of working through that, even if I didn’t know it at the time.

I’m a different girl now. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, and infinitely more sure of myself. I feel like… I’m not sure how to say it. Like I’m growing into being Mallory, if that makes any sense. I know who and what I am, and I like that person.

So do I need this diary anymore? Maybe not. When I started, it was like I was compelled to write in it. I don’t feel that way now. All the same, there’s a part of me that really doesn’t want to let it go. If there’s something I can’t tell anyone, not even Julie, I can always write it down here.

So… to sum up the past three weeks: Mom has been on several dates with Nadine, who is a friend of Katerina’s. I don’t think they’ve had sex yet, but they seem to be having fun. Mom has hinted to me that when and if she does hook up with Nadine, she’ll have to stop fooling around with me and Julie, at least for the time being. I would have thought I’d be jealous, but I’m fine with it. Mom cheated on Dad because she was unhappy, so it’s good to see her in a better place now.

Megan has a girlfriend now. I haven’t met her; she lives in Wadena. But Megan isn’t hooking up with anyone else for the moment. Once again: good for her. We’ll always be friends.

Last weekend the band met up at a little recording studio owned by one of Jason’s friends in a suburb of the Twin Cities. We recorded the intro tape for our shows, with the little skit about using a Delorean to go back in time so we could hear good music on the radio. We also recorded excerpts from a few songs and created a radio spot. We’ll give it to whoever the owner is for whatever gigs we play, and they can use it if they want to advertise the show. The guy who books the Douglas County Fair has already said he’ll use it if we’ve got it.

It was fun, and we learned a ton about how music is recorded. I always pictured the whole band together in the studio, playing like we do in rehearsal, but what actually happened was they put Katie behind this big, beautiful drum set in an isolation booth, gave her headphones so she could hear the rest of us, and then had us play so she wouldn’t lose her place… but the only thing they actually recorded was the drums! Once they had a ‘take’ they liked, they recorded Roger’s bass, then Jamie’s guitar, then my keys. Vocals were last.

We’re only a month down to the spring concert. Most of the bands are doing four songs each, but we’re doing eight because Jason is short one band. So Jason is setting us up as the headliner, so we go on last. We’ll get to have our backdrop, and Jason is going to let us use our intro tape.

We’ve also picked a setlist. We entirely dumped some of the early songs we learned, because we want to do a mostly eighties show. At first we were planning to do only eighties plus our two originals, but Jason talked us into holding onto “Destruction Preventer.”

“It’s far and away the most technical song on your list,” he explained. “If there’s one thing you’ve learned that demonstrates the musicianship this band is capable of, it’s that one. And at an event like this, you want to show off a bit.”

This show will be well-attended because of all the people who are related to the kids that are in it, so this will give us a chance to show local folks who we are and what we can do. Then maybe they’ll want to catch us when we play the local festivals!

The setlist for the spring concert will be:

Heat of the Moment (Asia)
Authority Song (John Mellencamp)
Ear in the Wall (Us!)
Listen to Your Heart (Roxette)
Working for the Weekend (Loverboy)
The Devil’s Own (Us!)
Under Pressure (Queen)
Destruction Preventer (Sonata Arctica)

Jamie sings lead on the Roxette, Ralph on everything else. We’re jumping straight from “Heat of the Moment” to “Authority Song,” and that’s when I need to get my guitar strapped on. The idea is Jamie will finish her “Heat of the Moment” solo, and the band will sing one more chorus. During the chorus I’ll get a guitar on, and then we’ll wrap up the song with Jamie and me playing the riff together on guitar, side by side. Then we’ll launch into “Authority Song.”

I’m a little nervous about playing guitar in front of an audience for the first time, so I’m going to do some extra practice just to build up my confidence. But still, I’m so excited! This is going to be great. I also have my spring piano recital in just a couple weeks. I’m doing Chopin and Mozart, and am super-pumped for that, too. I’ve learned a couple of very advanced pieces, and am playing them well.

The only other news I can think of is that Nettie seems to be coming out of her shell a little. She’s been to Jamie’s place to listen to records a couple of times with us over the past few weeks. She’s absolutely fascinated with the vinyl, and shares Jamie’s taste in music to a T. That aside, she’s been hanging out with people more during recess at school. The hard times aren’t over for her, and maybe they never will be, but there’s hope. For now, that’s enough

May 20th, 2007

Urrgghhh… I know, it’s been almost a month since I wrote. And what with the spring concert next weekend and my big creative writing project to finish for AL (school lets out in just a few days!!!), I wasn’t sure I’d be writing tonight, except that I have to tell about what happened yesterday evening.

My piano recital was yesterday afternoon. I was one of two advanced students participating, and the other one is a senior in high school. I blazed through both of my pieces without a hitch. Julie, Nettie and Lisa were there, but Jason wasn’t able to make it. They’re doing clinicals now for paramedic school, and he spent all day riding an ambulance in Wadena with his preceptor. That’s what they call the person who does your field training.

Mom and Dad came, too – though not together, of course. In fact, Mom brought her new girlfriend Nadine, who’s really nice. Her personality reminds me a little of Julie, always bubbly and positive. Physically she’s exactly the opposite – short, and a bit chubby.

Dad was sitting a few rows away from them, looking somewhat less than cheerful. Mom finally told him she was gay, and he did NOT take it well. I have to give Dad credit, though: he isn’t trying to get full custody of me or anything crazy like that, and he hasn’t said anything mean about Mom or lectured me on the evils of homosexuality when I’m staying with him at Home One. For one thing, he probably figures I’d take Mom’s side! Still, it seems to me that the divorce has made Dad a little more open minded than he used to be, so that’s a good thing. Especially since I’ll have to come out to him myself one day.

After the recital was over, I went back to Julie’s house. It’s my week at Home One, but Dad is getting run ragged by the fieldwork he has left to do. We’ve had a rainy spring, so he’s running late on the last of the planting. When I was invited for a sleepover, he didn’t even blink.

After supper Lisa went next door to look in on a sick neighbor, and Nettie ducked into her room with one of Jason’s textbooks. Julie and I went upstairs to her room, and I guess we got careless.

Julie was flat on her back, and I was on top of her in a sixty-nine. We were really going at it, too – faces buried between thighs, mouths and tongues hard at work. There was a sudden rap on the door which, as it turns out, we hadn’t latched all the way. It swung open, and we both turned towards it in alarm. Jason was standing in the doorway, jaw slack, fist raised to knock.

I tumbled off of Julie, and we scrabbled frantically for blankets to cover ourselves. “Daddy…” Julie gasped, but seemed lost for anything more to say.

Slowly, Jason’s face settled into the look of a man putting all the pieces together. He lowered his hand and gave a single nod. “You ladies should probably come downstairs and see me. You know… when you have a moment.” He closed the door gently.

Trembling, terrified, unable to speak, Julie and I got into our clothes and made our way down the stairs. Jason was sitting back in his recliner, nursing a drink. He was still wearing his navy blue tactical pants with the ugly gray paramedic student polo.

Just as we reached the bottom of the staircase, Lisa walked in the door. She smiled at us, but the smile faded quickly when she saw our expressions. She looked at Jason, then back at us again. Julie and I halted at the foot of the stairs, unable to move any further.

“What’s going on?” Lisa wanted to know.

“Julie… Mallory… sit down,” said Jason, indicating the love seat. He seemed impossibly calm.

As we made our way across the living room, Lisa hung up her coat and took her own chair.

“The girls left Julie’s bedroom door cracked open, and I just managed to walk in on something… unexpected,” said Jason.

“I… I see,” said Lisa.

Jason nodded slowly. “You knew.”

Lisa met his eyes. “Yes. I knew.”

“Daddy, please don’t be mad,” said Julie in a tear-stricken voice. “Mallory and I are in love. We…”

Jason held up a hand. “When I was twelve, I had a girlfriend about a year younger than me. We didn’t have full-on sex, but we did pretty much everything else. So no, I’m not mad. I haven’t forgotten what it’s like to be your age.”

He took a deep breath. “Looking back, I guess I should have seen it.” He turned to Lisa. “Were you planning on telling me at any point?”

Lisa didn’t look away. “Did you need to know? There’s no harm done. If it was a boy instead of Mallory I would have told you straight away, because there’s the pregnancy concern. But in this case… it’d be like if Julie came to me because she was getting her period. Is that something you’d need or even want to know about?”

Jason nodded. “That’s fair, I suppose.”

Julie shifted. Her cheeks were tracked with tears, but she held her head high. “I’m gay, Dad. And I’m in love with Mallory. Please don’t take her away from me.”

I took her hand, lacing our fingers together. She looked at me and smiled.

“I think I’d be a fool to try,” said Jason. “I’ll be honest… I’m a bit in shock here, and it’s going to take me some time to come to terms with this. But that’s my problem, not yours.”

That’s all that was said on the matter. We had dinner, and then we all watched a movie together. Nettie even came out and watched it with us. Julie and I sat close together, snuggled up like the lovers we are. Actually, now I’m glad Jason caught us, because that’s one more place where we don’t have to hide who we are.

May 27, 2007

Wednesday was the last day of AL. Thursday was the last day of school. Last night was the spring concert. It was held in the school auditorium and holy crow, it was AWESOME!

I’d been told what to expect, but I still was a little surprised how rough around the edges most of the student bands were. From what Jason says, it’s almost impossible to get most kids to do a decent amount of practice at home, and it really does take the entire five months to get them even marginally ready to play four lousy songs. It blows my mind, honestly. I hate embarrassment worse than just about anything, and I can’t imagine showing up for a rehearsal without having learned my parts.

I sat out front for most of the show. Some of the bands were terrible, some were all right, and one was pretty good. I was really impressed by how well Julie mixed them, considering that the only band that got to soundcheck was us. (Headliner’s privilege!) I’ve learned a lot about this stuff over the past few months, and now my ear is sharp enough to know a good sound mix from a bad one. Julie had each band completely dialed in and sounding right by the time their first song was half over. I was impressed!

Just as the last band before us went on, I went backstage to get ready. I was already wearing the fancy bejeweled jeans, and just had to shrug into the purple jacket with the silver sequins and the shoulder wings. I checked my hair in the bathroom mirror, and had to laugh… I looked like a cheesy old music video! I guess that’s the point.

We had a group hug before we went on. “Let’s kick some ass, brothers and sisters,” said Jamie.

As Julie played our intro tape, Katie crept in behind her drum kit while the rest of us stood in the wings. I got behind my keyboard a few seconds after. The revving Delorean engine on the tape faded away, and Jamie walked onto the stage, playing the intro riff for “Heat of the Moment” while still in motion. At the moment where the rest of the band comes in, Jason brought up the lights, and Ralph and Roger stepped in from stage right.

Forty minutes never went by so fast in my life! I felt like we were walking back off of that stage almost as quickly as we went on. The audience seemed to love us, too. I can’t wait to do a complete show.

After the gig, Julie and I had a sleepover at Jamie’s house. We were still brimming over with energy and in the mood for fun, so our clothes were scattered everywhere and we were romping in Jamie’s bed before two minutes had passed.

It was awesome, the perfect ending to an amazing day. I ate Jamie’s pussy until she squirted all over my face, and I came four (FOUR!) times. Jamie only got off twice, but the second time was so intense that she blacked out for a couple of minutes. Julie was the big winner, coming in at five orgasms.

June 24th, 2007

Another month, another diary entry. That seems to be where I’m at these days.

We did our first full show last night, at the Dent Days festival. Dent is a town roughly the same size as ours, about forty miles away. The stage was two flatbed hay wagons placed end-to-end. Jason hooked us up with a PA system, one big enough to kick some ass at an outdoor show.

We did three sixty minute sets with half hour breaks in between, just like a bar band does. Went on at eight, wrapped up at midnight. It was exhausting, but also tons of fun! We have four original songs now, and played those along with forty tunes from the 80s. We also slipped in one of the songs we learned early on, Computer God. Even though it’s not an eighties song and it’s not something mainstream audiences will even recognize, we threw it in just because it’s fun to play. I figure if you’re doing forty popular tunes, you can afford a little self-indulgence.

People loved it. We got compliments on our sound, our performances, our costumes, and our selection of tunes. Roger was right… these are songs people know and love, but most cover bands for whatever reason don’t play them.

So… since I’ve got pen in hand, what else has happened over the last month?

First, my piano recital in May resulted in me being given a last-minute opportunity to enroll in a summer music academy. It meets once a week in St. Cloud, and my parents are taking turns driving me there. We spend a whole day doing VERY intensive music theory and ear training drills, then they give us a load of stuff to work on during the week. It’s a lot to take on during summer vacation, but I’m loving every minute of it.

Julie, Cindy, Emma and I are hanging out a lot. We spend nice days outside, riding our bikes and hanging around the park. If it’s not so nice out, we go to somebody’s house, shut ourselves up in the bedroom, take all our clothes off and get freaky with each other. Okay… sometimes that happens on nice days, too!

Lisa is getting really big around the middle… she’s due at the end of August. Somehow it makes her sexier than ever, which adds a little sizzle when Julie and I fool around with her. There’s a lot of opportunity for that, cause Jason is heavy into clinicals right now. Some take place on the ambulance, others in the hospital.

Nettie is still here. It’s sounding like her parents might not be in a position to take her back for another few months yet. I don’t know the details, but I do know it’s not good. Nettie herself is doing better now, and something that I think is kind of big happened last week.

I was hanging out at Julie’s house, like I often do. Julie and I were playing chess. (We’re finally starting to get the hang of it.) Lisa was knitting a baby blanket, and Nettie was sitting on the couch reading one of Jason’s paramedic books. While all this was going on, Jason came home from one of his clinicals, looking exhausted.

He got himself a drink and was crossing the living room to his recliner, but stopped as he passed the couch. He looked down at the book Nettie held in her hands. “AMLS, huh?”

Nettie looked up at him. “Yeah. It’s pretty cool.”

Jason chuckled. “That’s one of our recommended supplementary books, not one that was required. A lot of it goes beyond what we’re expected to know as entry-level paramedics. What are you reading about?”

“Acid-base derangements.”

Jason raised his eyebrows. “That’s definitely beyond entry-level paramedic. It’s critical care. You actually understand it?”

“Uh-huh. It’s not too hard, if you’ve got arterial blood gasses sorted out.”

This time Jason’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his hairline. “You have ABGs sorted out?”

“Yeah.”

Jason pursed his lips, then settled down next to Nettie on the couch. “Okay, then,” he said. “Walk me through it.”

Their conversation descended into medical gobbledygook that I don’t comprehend at all. I was kind of shocked, to tell the truth. Eleven-year-old Nettie had clearly read ahead of where Jason was at in school, and was now familiar with concepts he hadn’t entirely grasped yet.

Then, abruptly, she changed the subject. “Uncle Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“They took Anna to the hospital in an ambulance. She was alive when they left. But then she died at the hospital. Is that right?” Nettie sounded solemn and sad, but her voice was steady.

“As I understand it, she coded in the ambulance,” said Jason, speaking slowly. “That means her heart stopped beating. They did CPR on the way to the hospital, and it didn’t work. But the official time of death isn’t when your heart stops beating. It’s when they stop trying to save you, and the doctor pronounces you dead. Honey… are you sure you want to talk about this?”

Nettie nodded. “It was our Bronning ambulance people that picked her up. They’re not paramedics, right?”

Jason shook his head. “Bronning has a volunteer BLS service, same as we have here in Dickson. BLS means…”

“I know,” said Nettie. “I’ve read all your books. BLS means basic life support, which means it’s EMTs and not paramedics. But they’d have intercepted with a paramedic on the way to the hospital, yeah?”

“That’s how it works, yes,” said Jason. “For really serious stuff like what happened to your sister, they get an ALS intercept coming. The paramedic meets them on the way and gets in their truck. Then they have advanced interventions for the rest of the trip. I have to think that’s how it happened with Annamarie’s call.”

Nettie nodded, looking down at her hands. Then she met his gaze again. Julie and I had abandoned our chess game, and I could sense Lisa looking on as well.

“Uncle Jason… do you think if there’d been a paramedic there right away, Anna might have lived?”

Jason laid his head against the back of the couch. “Nettie… I don’t know. I know she had internal bleeding, and was in late-stage shock when they picked her up. She might have already been too far gone for anyone to save, but who knows? I’m sure the EMTs there do the best job they can, but their tools are limited. There’s been times running BLS here for Dickson when I’ve come close to losing somebody, and it would have been easy to fix with ALS interventions on board. So, to give you the short answer… it’s possible.”

Nettie nodded. “Uncle Jason, when I grow up, I’m going to be a paramedic. Then maybe I’ll be able to save people like Anna, who are really hurt or sick and need help before they get to the hospital. I’ll bet I can do it.”

Jason smiled and took her hand. “Nettie,” he said, “I know you can. You already know more than I do about some of this. “Now, about bicarbonate, I still don’t get how it…”

Once again, gobbledygook. But as the two of them buried their noses in the book again, Julie and I were grinning ear-to-ear. Lisa was smiling from across the room, wiping a few tears away. Nettie had found a path. We knew she still had a difficult road ahead, but now she had a reason to move forward, a purpose that might help her claw her way back to the land of the living.

August 23rd, 2007

Lisa had her baby! It’s a little girl, and they’re naming her Victoria Rose. It happened three days ago, and they’re coming home from the hospital tomorrow. I’ve been there twice. The baby looks like a plucked chicken, but somehow still manages to be adorable.

Jason and Lisa have decided to get married in the middle of December. Jason will have a few weeks off of school, and Lisa should be fully recovered from her labor. Julie and I are both going to be a part of the wedding. Then, just a couple of months after that, Jason will be ready to test for his paramedic certification.

Mom and Nadine broke up. I think they’re still on good terms, but they’re not a thing anymore. So she’s having regular sex with Julie and I again, which is awesome. In fact, I’ve had a few sleepovers with Julie where we end up spending the night in Mom’s bed.

Mom says now that coming out is one of the best decisions she ever made. She’s dating around a little, still discovering herself as a lesbian. She isn’t ready for a full-time relationship just yet, but open to the idea if she meets Ms. Right. I’m fine with her playing the field for awhile longer, if it means she’s still willing to hook up with me and Julie. When the three of us get together, it’s downright magical.

As for Dad, he actually seems to have got himself a girlfriend! He’s been seeing Agatha Kershaw, the Sunday school teacher at our church. Her husband died a few years ago when his car got t-boned by a drunk driver. She’s a few years older than Dad, but still attractive. I don’t know if they’ve done the deed or not. I sure can’t see myself asking my father about that! Anyway, I’m happy for him. Ms. Kershaw seems like a way better match for Dad than Mom ever was.

I can’t believe school is about to start. I’m going to be busier than ever! I’m enrolled in a music program where I’ll spend the next six years getting ready for post-secondary music education at a real conservatory… maybe even some place like Julliard. Some people think I’m awfully young to be making that kind of long-term commitment, but honestly, that’s what it takes. In order to get into a place like that, you need to already be an exceptional musician.

That aside, 80 Proof is going to be working regularly. We’re booking college gigs, and working towards recording an album. We now have seven original songs, and we haven’t even been working all that hard at writing. We’re talking about taking a couple of weekends over the next month, holing ourselves up in Jamie’s attic bedroom, and just going on an intensive writing binge. That’s where the college gigs will be a big help. When you’re a local band who plays school events, fairgrounds and stuff like that, your audience mostly wants to hear songs they already know. College audiences tend to be more forgiving of original material.

Don’t get me wrong… we had fun doing the eighties pop thing for the festivals and fairs, and plan to do it again next summer. But we want to be more than just a cover band.

I think with all this going on, it might be time to put the diary away for awhile. Maybe even for always. As it is, I’m only managing an entry every month or so, and I’m about to get a lot busier. This entry probably wouldn’t exist, if it wasn’t for yesterday afternoon.

Nettie, Julie, and I were alone at Julie’s house. Jason was at the hospital with Lisa and the baby. Nettie wanted to watch some Disney movie, one Julie and I weren’t interested in seeing. So the two of us adjourned to Julie’s room… and I’ll bet you can’t guess what we did!

Early this summer Lisa bought some new living room furniture, and the old love seat got moved to Julie’s room. We undressed and made incredibly hot love on it (that’s why they call it a love seat, right?), then sat together naked, arms around each other, talking about this and that, occasionally kissing.

After awhile we got to making out again, and pretty soon our hands were roaming to forbidden places. I had just let out a sharp moan of pleasure when there came a rapping on the door. We froze.

“Julie? Mallory?” Nettie’s voice. “Are you guys okay?”

We shared a look, and got giggling. Julie shrugged. “She knows about us anyway.” I nodded in agreement.

“Come in,” said Julie.

Nettie opened the door, then stood there, staring at us. “Oh… wow,” she got out. “Are you guys… you know… doing it?”

Julie smiled. “We sure are!” Turning to me, her mouth found mine, and we shared a hot, hungry kiss.  Nettie’s lips were parted slightly, her eyes wide. I knew that expression well. I imagine a few people have seen that same longing on my face over the past year!

Julie beckoned her closer. “You can come sit with us if you want, Nettie. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Licking her bottom lip nervously, Nettie took a step forward. Then another.

***

What happened then?

This time, I think I’ll leave it to the imagination. I learned in Creative Writing class that it’s good to conclude your story with a hint of mystery… and in a way, I’m ending a story right now, aren’t I? Sure, there will be a lot more chapters to come. I’m only twelve! But I’ll be busy living them, experiencing life without the need to put all the details down in print.

Like I said when I first started, I don’t think anyone keeps a diary just for themselves. I think at least in the back of your mind, you’re writing with the expectation that someday, it’s going to be read by someone else. So here’s where I leave you, future reader, at least for now.

Sincerely, Mallory Kalvornek

The End

Afterword:

This story has been a hell of a long time in the telling. Begun years ago, abandoned due to extenuating circumstances, left behind while I wrote “Strange Brew”… and now finally, brought to a conclusion.

First of all, I must thank JetBoy. It was he who encouraged me to return to the story and give it another go, despite my feeling that I’d lost the plot and couldn’t think how to continue. Thanks to him, I looked at it again and figured out how to continue. His exemplary editing, great suggestions, and even some writing contributions, strengthened the work immensely. 

Thanks must also be apportioned to the others who keep Juicy Secrets up and running. We owe it all to you.

And finally, of course, my wonderfully amazing readers! Your comments and encouragement have been an immense joy to read, and provided impetus when the motivation threatened to wane. Even those of you who don’t comment but love the stories anyway. Thank you thank you thank you! We love you all.

Mallory’s story is not over. Some of you may recall the appearance that Mallory, Julie, and the Hanson family made at Nettie’s father’s memorial in “Strange Brew.” The cast of both stories will come together in the “Strange Brew” sequel, which is currently in progress. It’s basically written, but with some significant revisions underway. Once it’s ready, it’ll be unveiled. It’s a trip down memory lane for our beloved Nettie as she’s forced to face her traumatic past, including a completion of the scene I left off on in the final chapter you just read! Stay tuned…

by Mystery Mouse

CHAPTER 1 – A New Start

“Oh, and whatever you do, make sure to stay away from her!”

The girl’s vehemence took Katherine by surprise. All through the tour of the school, Anne-Marie had been pleasant and polite. A little snobbish and stuck-up, maybe, but Katherine was used to that. Especially from a prefect.

But as they entered the lunch hall and Anne-Marie started to wrap things up, she’d spotted something, and her mood had changed for the worse.

“Er … who?” Katherine asked, scanning the assorted students. She had no idea who, or even what, she was looking for.

“Her,” Anne-Marie repeated with a growl. “The Ice Queen sitting over there with her pack of delinquent lesbian friends. A regular bad girls club, if you ask me.”

“Bad girls club?” Katherine echoed. She looked where the prefect was pointing. Outside the hall, visible through a window, four girls sat at a round table. They looked to be around sixteen or so, the same age she was. As far as she could tell, three of them were chatting while the fourth seemed to be writing something down. Nothing unusual at all. Nothing strange. Nothing “bad.”

As for the other thing Anne-Marie called them …

“Why did you …?” Katherine began. She didn’t get any further as Anne-Marie tore her gaze away from the group, wished Katherine well in her academic life, and made such an abrupt departure that Katherine was left gawping after her, unsure what to do next.

Then the reality of the situation hit home. She was standing on her own in a hall full of strangers. They were bound to notice her any second now. And then they’d start pointing, then whispering and laughing. If she was lucky, that’s all they would do.

She felt her pulse quicken as panic threatened to set in. Worse, she felt the Blush start to rise.

The Blush deserved its capitalisation. When embarrassed, her face took on the hue of a ripe tomato. In Katherine’s previous school, it was a point of pride for her tormentors if they could get the shy, insecure redhead’s cheeks glowing. And she’d had so many tormentors.

The teasing started with her fiery red hair, and how persistently unruly it was. Some of the popular girls started making fun of it, her cheeks would flush, and the whole thing snowballed from there. Katherine began avoiding the other kids, which made her the quiet outsider, which made her a target for bullies, which made her even more of a recluse. Once a bully knows how to hurt you, they won’t stop. In the end, Katherine had nobody left she could consider a friend.

But this was a new town. A new school with new people. It was Katherine’s chance to make a better life for herself. Nobody here was going to call her Crybaby Kathy. She wouldn’t give them the opportunity.

So she needed to move. Sit at a free table, go for a walk, hide in the toilets – anything that made her less of a target. She took one step, then another.

“Hi. Sorry. Do you mind if I sit here?” she asked a few moments later.

Nearly all the girls at the table looked up in surprise at the interruption. Even this close, Katherine couldn’t work out which one was supposed to be the “Ice Queen” Anne-Marie had mentioned.

There was a black girl whose uniform somehow seemed to be smarter and better tailored than everyone else’s. Was she the Queen? There was an air of superiority about her, although that might just have been a figment of Katherine’s overstressed imagination.

Next to her was a girl whose bespectacled face was almost hidden under a mass of chestnut-brown curls. Despite her smile, there was a sense that this was someone who was always ready for a fight. Somebody who needed no excuse to defend herself with words – or fists. An Ice Queen? Surely not.

At first, Katherine assumed the next girl was from another year, maybe someone’s younger sister. But, as she approached the table, she realised just how small the little brunette was. Not that there was anything wrong with being a different height, she hurriedly admonished herself, but still … this girl was tiny! Surely she was far too short, far too petite, to be called a Queen of anything.

Finally, she looked at the fourth girl and knew instantly – this must be the one. Tall, unsmiling, with ice-cold blue eyes and long hair so blonde it was nearly white … she had to be the Ice Queen Anne-Marie had spoken of so spitefully. She didn’t even look like she belonged in a school. She looked like she should have been plotting the downfall of humanity in a castle on a glacier somewhere. Katherine knew instinctively that this was one girl you wouldn’t want to mess with.

“Absolutely,” said the black girl in response to Katherine’s request and waved her to one of the two free chairs.

The girls resumed their conversation as Katherine tried to relax, holding her bag on her lap like some kind of shield. This was bad. This was very bad. What the hell was she doing here? She’d barely been at the school for half a day and already she’d walked right into the lions’ den!

Or maybe the lionesses’ den. Is that even a thing?

“So me stepdad reckons he can get tickets, but only for one of th’ shite matches. Everything else is just way too pricey.”

This was the girl with the brown curls and glasses. She had a thick Irish accent, although Katherine was at a loss as to where in Ireland it was from. Her geographical knowledge wasn’t the best and there was absolutely no way she was going to ask. That’d just be begging trouble.

“You still going anyway?” asked the Ice Queen.

“Well, y’gotta. Otherwise y’ain’t a real fan at all.”

“Is that why you support someone at the bottom of the league? Because you’re a ‘real’ fan?”

“Hey! What’cha ’tryin’ t’say?!”

As Katherine tried her best not to look like she was eavesdropping, she began to sense somebody was watching her. She looked up and saw the black girl, the one with the smart uniform, staring at her as though trying to work something out.

Here we go. thought Katherine. What’s it going to be first? The hair? The bag? Clothes? Shoes? What? What are you going to start picking on me about?

“You’re new, aren’t you?” the girl asked.

Careful, Katherine, careful. You don’t know what they do to new kids here. Don’t lie, you’ll only get caught out … but be ready to run.

“Er, yeah. How did you …” she replied.

The other girl smiled.

“Easy. You’ve got that whole deer-in-headlights look. Like you don’t know what to do next.”

“I… I guess. There’s a lot to take in.”

“Well, welcome to the school. It’s not that bad once you get used to it. Just don’t eat the shepherd’s pie!” the girl said, winking conspiratorially.

“You had that last week. You liked it,” interjected the blonde, her argument with the Irish girl having failed to go anywhere.

The black girl rolled her eyes. “I was making a joke. You know? A joke? Something to break the ice? Make our new friend feel a bit more welcome? Can’t you just give me that? Huh?”

Our new friend. It didn’t sound sarcastic to Katherine’s ears, but who actually says that?

“Anyway,” the black girl continued, regaining her composure, “welcome to the school, like I said, and welcome to our lunch table. It’s a pleasure to have you join us …”

I doubt that, thought Katherine.

“… so let me introduce everyone. My name’s Yolanda. Next to me is Fiona.”

The Irish girl with the wild curls had started to eat an apple and was taken by surprise. She waved with her free fingers and wiggled her eyebrows in what was probably meant to be a friendly manner.

Katherine’s first impression of Yolanda seemed to be accurate. The girl had an attitude of somebody used to being in charge. And also clearly used to public speaking. This felt less like an introduction and more like a presentation.

“The one cheating on her homework is Terri.”

This had to be the short girl who, Katherine now realised, had been feverishly copying text from one sheet of paper to another.

“I ain’t cheatin’!” came the indignant response. “How was I supposed to know there was questions on the back?! Who the hell does that to a person?”

“Just as well some of us pay attention, huh?” the blonde commented.

Terri stuck out her tongue in response without looking up from her work.

“And finally,” Yolanda interjected firmly, “we have Claire. Who’s having a mood today.”

“I’m not having a mood. I’m just saying, that’s all.”

“It’s not what you’re saying, girl. It’s how you’re saying it.”

“Well, I’m just saying the truth.”

So, thought Katherine as the two bickered, the Ice Queen’s name was Claire. Claire the Ice Queen.

It doesn’t fit somehow. Maybe a Helga? Or a Thora? Or … Okay, so I don’t know many Nordic names. But she looks like she’s some kind of Viking or something.

Something with a Z in it, maybe? Zena? Zora? Hmm … Why do they always end with an “a”?

“An’ what’s yer name, then?”

Katherine started with shock. She’d let her mind drift and hadn’t been paying attention. This was the Irish girl, Fiona, pointing a ravaged apple core in Katherine’s direction.

“Me? Oh, I’m … er … I mean … my name’s Katherine. Katherine Pearson,” she stammered, feeling the Blush threaten to rise again.

“Pleased t’meet ya, Kat. Got any food?”

“What?”

She’s not about to try to take my lunch, is she? That’s so childish! Nobody still does that, do they?

“It’s half-past already. If y’don’t eat soon, you’ll run outta time,” Fiona explained.

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

Katherine carefully removed a sandwich from her bag and tried to eat it as innocuously as possible.

So far so good, she thought. Nobody has really done or said anything nasty towards me at all. Sure, they could be saving it up for later, but normally I’d have had at least something by now.

As time passed and the end of the lunch hour drew near, Katherine found herself beginning to relax. The other girls around the table had been given many opportunities but hadn’t bothered to be mean or unpleasant to her at all. Each other, yes, but that just seemed to be the standard, background-level way they behaved. There were frequent arguments, but they never came to anything and were over as quickly as they started. In fact, the girls didn’t argue or fight, Katherine realised. They squabbled. They bickered. There was no real heat behind it.

After a few moments, Terri finished her work. She looked up, saw Katherine for the first time and, without hesitation, said what must have been the first thing that came to her mind.

“Whoa. Your hair’s amazin’. It’s so red! Do you have to use a special conditioner for that or somethin’?”

At first Katherine thought this was some subtle insult she didn’t understand. But it turned out to be a serious question and kickstarted a group conversation about hair products that even she was able to join. It wasn’t much, but she started to feel that this might be a group of people she could cope with after all.

But then Claire, who had spent a few minutes silently thinking, turned to Katherine and asked, “So, why’d you ask to sit with us?” 

Bitch, Katherine thought.

“Somebody told me not to. They said you were trouble,” she said. “So I did. I don’t like being told what I shouldn’t do.”

That wasn’t entirely true, but it sounded good.

“Let me guess. Anne-Marie,” Yolanda said, making a face. Then, without waiting for a reply, she added, “She still has it out for you, doesn’t she, Claire?”

“Not my fault,” came the terse response.

Katherine saw all four girls start to focus on her and felt the Blush once again threaten to rise. Oh no, she thought. Not now!

“In what way did she say we were trouble, hmmm?” Yolanda asked with a strange smile.

“I’m not … I don’t think I really remember.”

“Sure y’do,” Fiona chimed in “Tell us. We wanna know.”

Shit shit shit shit! Katherine screamed inside her head. Never pick sides, never repeat what people say about each other, and never EVER get between two groups who are fighting. Especially not other girls. You know this! 

Then, suddenly, she changed her mind. As she felt her cheeks burn from embarrassment and fear, it was as though a switch flipped in her brain. Screw it, she thought, I’m not doing this all over again. If it’s a fight you want, then let’s fight.

“Well, she said you were all gay,” she said.

The other girls looked stunned. As though they were expecting anything but that.

The only one who reacted was Terri. She instantly broke into a massive grin. “Oh, is that all? Huh. ’Cos she ain’t right … but she ain’t exactly wrong, neither.”

“Terri …” Yolanda warned.

“I mean, Fi’s the actual gay one. Me an’ Claire, we’re more bi, you know? An’ Yolanda here, she’s … ‘

“Terri!” Yolanda snapped. “That’s enough! Try to engage your brain before you engage your mouth!”

“I’m happy t’admit it. It’s th’ twenty-first century. Not gonna lie about bein’ who I am,” Fiona said with a shrug.

“I’m not saying that, but there’s a time and a place.” They glowered at one another.

“So why did Anne-Marie tell you that, precisely?” Claire asked.

Katherine suspected she knew the answer to that one. She’d been thinking about it and believed she’d worked it out. Why would somebody tell a complete stranger that a group of girls were all “delinquent lesbians”? Either they were a homophobe or …

“I think she thinks you’re all sleeping with each other.”

There was silence. The sort of silence that only comes when people are deliberately not saying anything.

Oops, she thought. Wrong answer. Now I really am in trouble. I wonder if I can change to a different school again?

But then:

“Yeah … I exactly wouldn’t call it sleepin’. More like fuckin’. Fuckin’ an’ shaggin’ with a lil’ bit of screwin’ mixed in.”

“Terri!”

“Jaysus, T. Way t’drop that one.”

“What? It’s true, ain’t it?”

Only Claire didn’t say anything. She merely smirked.

Katherine was in shock. This wasn’t what she’d been expecting. At most she thought the girls might have become friends as some sort of LGBTQ support group. There was something similar at her old school although, being a social outcast, she hadn’t known much about it.

And she knew people her age weren’t all virgins. She’d heard the rumours that people in her year were actually having sex. There’d even been talk that some of her classmates had started doing it when they were even younger.

But it was Terri’s blunt, upfront, admission that surprised her. And not a single member of the group had denied it either.

Katherine caught Yolanda’s eye in mute enquiry. The other girl threw her hands up in the air with exasperation.

“Alright, fine,” she growled. “It’s true. We do, sometimes, occasionally …”

“Frequently,” said Terri under her breath.

“… have intimate moments with each other …” Yolanda continued.

“Fuck like rabbits,” Terri said. “Horny rabbits.”

“… but that’s not all we do. And it’s not all that often, despite what some people would have you believe. It’s just for fun, that’s all. Nothing to make a big deal about.”

Yolanda’s composure was gone. The calm, collected, and firmly-in-control young woman Katherine had met earlier had vanished. All because of one, surprising but relatively small revelation. It was alarming to see. But even more alarming was the speed with which Yolanda recovered. Two deep breaths and she was back to normal.

“Of course, if this means you don’t want to sit with us, I completely understand,” she continued, sitting up as straight as a ruler, “but I would ask that you keep this private. It’s not something the rest of the school needs to know.”

So you’re hiding who you truly are. Katherine thought. I’ve been there.

“Yeah, no. I get it. I think. But I’ll stay, if that’s okay.” After all, I have to know if this is some sort of prank or something.

“Of course,” Terri continued quietly, “we ain’t actually done anythin’ since I got rid of the bunk bed the other day, an’ you made me come buckets all over the new one.”

“Hang on. Wait,” interrupted Claire, who clearly had something else on her mind. “Did Anne-Marie have anything else to say about us? Or me specifically?”

Katherine knew exactly what she was asking about, but she also knew that there was no way she was going to tell her.

Especially now. If Claire was the horrible person Anne-Marie had implied, if she was so nasty, then how could the other girls possibly be doing anything like that with her?

There must be something that Katherine wasn’t getting.

“Er … she did call you a ‘bad girls club’ but I don’t know …”

That was all Katherine managed to say before Terri burst out laughing.

“Yes! I love it! That’s brilliant!” she cried. “The Bad Girls Club! Yeah! We can make up some badges, have our own newsletter …”

“Get us jackets with the club name on the back, like in old fifties movies?” Fiona offered.

“Yeah? Yeah! Hell, why not? We could have Bad Girls Club-branded anythin’ and everythin’.”

“We’re not a club. That’s just silly,” Claire grumbled.

But this time, she was ignored. Terri and Fiona had taken the idea to heart and were busy throwing merchandise ideas at each other, paying no heed to Claire’s sardonic comments.

Thankfully, by the time they’d started discussing matching tattoos, the bell rang and lunch hour was over. The girls rose from the table and, after giving Katherine directions to her next class, went their separate ways.

For the rest of the day Katherine did her best to focus on her schoolwork. She had new classmates, new teachers, and new buildings to get used to. Even new friends, it seemed. But every so often, her mind would drift back to one particular question.

Did those girls she met earlier really do what they said they did? Have sex with each other? Were they just making it up? But why would they admit to something like that if it wasn’t true?

If they weren’t making it up, then what was it like? What did they do? How did they do it?

And, more importantly, could she herself have sex with another girl if the situation ever came up?

For an inexperienced, shy virgin like Katherine, these were questions she couldn’t even begin to answer. And yet they circled her head, making her lose concentration and set her heart to pounding, her mind racing, and her body wanting.

Finally, once school was over for the day and she was safely home in her bedroom where nobody could see, she decided to do something about it.

 On to Chapter Two!

The story thus far: Kimberly Harcourt-Brown is a ten-year-old lesbian who has only ever had sex with her mother Arabella. As the story begins, she is being taken on a mystery getaway by her mum. Not long before their arrival, Kimmy finally gets the details of their trip. It seems that back when Arabella was at university, she and her four roommates/lovers made a vow of sorts: they would all strive to have daughters at around the same time, then teach them the ways of lesbian love when they were still little girls. And just before the girls entered their teen years, the four mothers would bring them to Grafton Lodge, a luxurious house they owned jointly, for a weekend of sexual abandon. Kimmy hasn’t seen any of her mum’s mates since she was too young to recall them, but she is still beside herself with delight.

Arabella has one more bit of information to share with Kimmy: after returning home from university, Arabella became lovers with her sister Beth.  Kimmy then wonders why Aunt Beth didn’t join them for this trip, and Arabella tells her daughter that Beth’s plan for the weekend is to attempt to entice Kimmy’s little sister Hanna bed. If she succeeds, it’s possible that the entire family will become lovers. Needless to say, Kimmy is thrilled by the idea… but of course, that will have to wait until the trip home from Grafton Lodge.

Upon their arrival, the girls spend time getting to know their mothers’ friends, as well as each other, before meeting at the swimming pool. As the day passes, they learn which mums are attracted to which daughters, and who will share whose bed. It works out quite nicely, and no one is left without a partner. Kimmy is smitten by Lily’s mum Fiona, while Arabella has eyes for Lottie’s little girl Emily. Much flirting takes place.

That evening, after supper, a wicked game of hide and seek is proposed, one in which the ultimate objective is to pair each woman and girl with the bed partner they want most. The game results in tons of fun, the kind that churns up a lot of teasing, arousal and outright lust. Eventually, everyone is paired off, but did Kimmy get the lover she hoped for?

Later, Kimmy awakens in Fiona’s arms after a delightful bout of lovemaking. Everyone comes down for hot chocolate before turning in, and the next day’s activities are planned: the eight of them will visit a delightful shopping district in the nearby village of Stowington. Their plans made, everyone goes to bed, all the girls sleeping with their mums.

The next morning, it is determined that another sexy game will be played whilst in the village… and the first rule is that everyone has to wear dresses, but without knickers. This will be a game of tag, one involving either flashing their naughty bits at each other, or engaging in  beneath their skirts. Once more, a lovely time is had by all, and Fiona gives Kimmy a beautiful necklace before they return to Grafton. The story resumes…

Cast of Characters:

Arabella (Bell) and daughter Kimberly (Kimmy) (10): Brunettes

Fiona (Fi) and daughter Lily (9): Redheads

Claire and daughter Izzy (11): Brunettes

Charlotte (Lottie) and daughter Emily (10) : Blondes

by Joe Dornish

I must have been blind not to notice it. I blame that dreamy state I was in, brought on by spending so much time with Fiona.

As Mum had predicted, the others had got back to Grafton Lodge before us. When we arrived home and got out of the car, she started to say something to me, but I was desperate for a pee so I brushed her off and ran inside. When I came out of the loo I followed the sound of voices to the living room. Everyone was there but me.

I looked for Fiona and saw her on the sofa with Lily. It was a three-seater with a space next to her, so I took a step in her direction, but then Mum said, “Kimmy, come and sit with me please.”

The first inkling I had that something special was about to happen was when I noticed that each child was sitting with their mother and everyone had gone quiet.

“Okay, now we’re all here, can we begin?” said Claire, opening a laptop.

I frowned and looked at Mum, “Begin what? Are we playing another game?”

Mum spoke in a hushed tone. “That’s what I meant to speak to you about. I was going to tell you in the car, but then Fiona gave you the bracelet and I wanted to let you enjoy the moment. Then I tried to tell you just now, but you ran off.”

“Sorry, I needed to pee. So what’s happening then? Um, is something the matter?”

“Not at all, sweetie. We’re just going to watch a film.”

This was NOT what I wanted to hear. I was hoping we could all get naked and go swimming. I knew better than to show my disappointment, though.

“Oh, okay. What’s the film?”

“It’s a lesbian sex film, one with a bit of a surprise.”

My jaw nearly hit the floor. Did I hear her right?

“Did you say…”

“Things are likely to get a bit steamy here soon. Kimmy, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, remember that, okay?”

I knew why Mum felt obliged to keep saying the words, but I was getting a bit tired of constantly being told I didn’t have to do sex stuff if I didn’t want to. “Yeah, of course, but, did you say… a lesbian porn film…?”

So many questions were flying about in my head and fighting to get heard, but none of them managed to actually get spoken. It was like some silly cartoon where the characters all try to get through the door at once and get stuck. Given a minute, I’d have managed to ask one – but Claire, who was playing with the laptop, spoke again. “Ah, here we are. Okay, now I’ve managed to sort the tech out, we can begin.”

“Well done for digitising this, Claire. Was it difficult?” asked Fiona.

Claire laughed. “Oh, it was quite traumatic, likely to cost me a bloody fortune in therapy. Anyway, ladies, girls… we are about to see the first-ever public screening of a very special film. I hope you enjoy it.”

She pressed a button on her laptop, then placed it on the floor by her feet as the television burst into life. Looking around the room the kids were all like me, a bit perplexed, but there was a definite air of excitement amongst the adults. I settled in to watch.

The opening shot was of a living room. There were two big sofas, some bean bags and cushions and a large glass coffee table, as well as a TV in the corner, along with bookshelves and stuff. The picture was a bit grainy but not too bad. I noticed there were no opening credits. In fact, it looked like a home movie.

As I studied the screen I could see some stuff on the coffee table… okay, it was a collection of sex toys. I’d never used any myself, as Mum said I was too young, but she told me about them one time and said when I get a bit older we could try some together.

A woman’s voice came blaring out, someone speaking off-camera.

‘Welcome to the first-ever filming of the Cambridge Lesbian Quartet, featuring…’

Then people off-camera started clapping and cheering. I was just thinking that the voice speaking sounded a bit familiar when someone burst onto the screen, whirling around with her arms flying about wildly.

‘…featuring… Luscious Lottie!’

She looked younger than she did now, but there was no mistaking it, it was Lottie. Besides the shock of seeing her on the TV, I was speechless at the fact she was wearing nothing but a pair of white stockings. I looked across at her on the sofa with Emily. She was hiding her face behind her hands and giggling.

“Mummy, is that you?” Said Emily with a mix of excitement and confusion.

“Yes, darling, that’s me.”

The voice behind the camera then said, ‘…aaaannnnd Foxy Fiona!”

Then Fiona came into view, wearing red stockings but otherwise naked. Like Lottie, she arrived with a little dance, then turned to face the camera.

“Oh my god, Fi… you look scrumptious,” said Mum.

“We all did back then. Look how young and slim we were.”

‘…And the Commando Queen herself… Arabella!”

“Mum, oh my… Mum, that’s you!” I exclaimed.

“Yup, that’s me, baby.”

A very young-looking Mum came sashaying gracefully onto the screen with a twirl and stood facing the camera with Lottie and Fiona. She was wearing black fishnet stockings, but was otherwise naked. I was beginning to see the theme here and guessed Claire could be next, probably wearing stockings.

‘…and last, but not least… Kinky Claire!’

“Kinky Claire!” yelled Izzy, laughing and clapping while her mum hid her face, not enough to conceal her blushing cheeks.

The younger version of Claire danced onto the screen to join the others, wearing black stockings, but they were shiny, like plastic or something. She looked amazing.

“What’s she wearing?” I whispered to Mum.

“Latex stockings. She used to love those things.”

“Have you still got those stockings?” asked Lottie.

“Not those, but I’ve got a couple of pairs tucked away at home somewhere.”

“Pity, you should have brought them with you,” said Fiona.

“Next time, darling, next time,” said Claire.

“I haven’t seen this since we filmed it,” said Lottie, “I can’t quite remember exactly what we did.”

“It’s a bit hazy, but some of it’s coming back to me,” said Fiona.

“Do you remember this?” I asked Mum.

“Bits of it, but not much. You’re going to see me doing things that might surprise you.”

“Like what?”

“Wait and see.”

Other than a few whispers here and there between mums and their daughters the room largely fell silent. I’m not sure about the other kids, but I’ve never seen a porn movie before. Actually, that’s not true. A girl in the year above me had one on her phone once in the playground. A man and a woman were having sex and everyone was crowded around her trying to see the film. I caught a brief glimpse, but didn’t want to look at a naked man, so I walked away. Which was smart of me, cause a moment later a teacher caught them, and those girls got in loads of trouble.

“Are you all going to have sex, Mummy?” I heard Lily ask her mum.

“Shhh, watch and you’ll find out,” Fiona replied.

I was pretty sure I knew the answer to THAT question! My eyes were glued to the TV as the four younger versions of our mums started kissing. It got very hot, very quickly. There was none of the slow teasing foreplay that Mum and I usually do. Almost straight away Claire pushed Mum onto the sofa and started licking her pussy while Fiona stayed standing in front of the camera as Lottie knelt between her legs.

“Wow, COOL,” said Izzy.

I couldn’t agree more. I watched as my on-screen mum spread her stocking-clad legs wide apart, then Claire began finger fucking her while licking her pussy.

“Are there any close-ups?” asked Izzy.

“No, baby,” said Claire, “Nobody was operating the camera, it was on a tripod.”

“Pity,” said Izzy.

She was right, it was a pity, I’d have loved a close-up view of what Claire was doing to my mum. On the screen, Claire pushed my mum flat on the sofa and grabbed something from the coffee table, then swung around and planted her pussy on Mum’s face so they were in a sixty-nine.

“What’s Claire got in her hand?” I asked Mum.

“A vibrator.”

I watched as the long purple thing made a buzzing noise and then Claire pushed it inside my mum. Meanwhile, Fiona had turned around and bent over and Lottie was licking her pussy and bumhole from behind. It was a crazy thing to see, all four of our mums having sex like this. I was getting massively turned on. And by the look of it, I wasn’t the only one.

Movement on the other side of the room caught my eye, and I looked over to see that Izzy had lifted her skirt above her waist and was masturbating. Like, right there, on the sofa next to her mum, completely out in the open. Then I glanced around the room and saw that Emily was sitting on Lottie’s lap. I had been so engrossed in the film that I hadn’t even noticed her move. Lottie had her hand under Emily’s skirt, and there was movement between the girl’s legs. If that wasn’t enough of a hint at what Lottie was doing to her daughter, the glazed look in Emily’s eyes told me all I needed to know.

I didn’t know where to look. I didn’t want to miss the action on the screen, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from what was happening in the room. Then Fiona pulled her denim mini up around her waist, spread her legs and began masturbating in full view of all of us. I nearly came on the spot.

My head was moving from the TV to Fiona to Izzy to Emily and back again, like I was watching three tennis games at once.

As if she could read my mind, Mum said, “It’s okay, you can play with your kitty if you want. I will too in a little bit, but I’m waiting for a particular part of the film.”

“Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh. Or you can sit on my lap and I’ll do it for you. How about that?”

I didn’t need to be asked twice! I climbed into Mum’s lap, throwing my legs on either side of hers and leaning back on her. I thought she was just going to slip her hand under my dress but instead, she lifted it right up so everyone could see me. I went bright red and felt a bit too exposed but as some of the others were doing the same thing I felt it was okay and let Mum carry on. This caught Fiona’s attention, she looked across and blew me a kiss with one hand while masturbating with the other. I blew her a kiss back as Mum’s fingers slipped between my legs.

I turned my attention to the screen when I heard Lottie say, “Fuck me, we didn’t waste any time in those days, did we?”

Things had changed on the TV while my attention had been elsewhere. Claire and Mum were still doing their sixty-nine on the sofa but now Lottie was messing with some sort of leather belt thingy with a dildo on the front. She stepped into it and pulled it up around her waist, then Fiona was helping with some sort of fastening on the side.

“What’s that?” I asked Mum.

“Didn’t I tell you about those? Guess not. It’s called a strap-on harness. Watch, you’ll see what it’s for.”

It soon became very obvious what it was for. Fiona bent over the coffee table with her back to the camera, but Lottie said something that I couldn’t make out and pointed at the camera, then Fiona turned sideways so we could see her. Lottie got behind her and pushed the dildo into Fiona and started to fuck her like a man would.

This was totally confusing to me. I’m a lesbian, after all, and this was very much like the sex straight people have. So why was it turning me on so much? Then I remembered Mum’s words to me yesterday when we were talking about boys. ‘Embrace who you are, don’t try to fit yourself into a box’.

So I just went with it, embracing this new way for women to have sex… new to me, at least. And Mum’s fingers were having a lovely effect on my kitty, so much that I was dripping wet. She wasn’t trying to make me come though, she was just lightly massaging me. It felt wonderful.

“Oh fuck, yeah,” said Claire.

I hadn’t noticed that she was masturbating under her dress, and now she was having an orgasm. Then Emily started whimpering and wriggling about on her mummy’s lap while Lottie touched her, and soon she was coming, too. Fiona wasn’t far behind, and I saw her smile at Lily when she hitched her own dress up and started playing with her kitty. Then Izzy started coming. It was a crazy sight, all these women and girls masturbating and random orgasms breaking out as we watched our mums on the TV having really naughty sex.

My eyes were then drawn to Mum and Claire on the screen. I think they’d both had an orgasm, because Claire had got to her feet and was fiddling with something on the coffee table. I couldn’t see what, though, because Lottie was blocking the view of the camera while she fucked Fiona. Then Claire stepped back into view, another strap-on in her hands.

A surge of excitement raced through me. “Is she going to…?”

“Yes, baby, she is.”

“Oh, wow.”

Once Claire had the harness on, she got on the sofa with Mum, who was on her back. She lifted Mum’s ankles high and wide, pushed the dildo in and started fucking her really hard.

I didn’t question what I was watching, I couldn’t, I was coming. It hit me out of nowhere. One second I’m enjoying a bit of light pussy rubbing from Mum, and the next I’m shivering and moaning as she worked my clit while I watched her getting fucked by her friend who, in real life, was sitting just a few feet away having an orgasm of her own.

My climax was as short-lived as it was intense. A moment later I was properly with it again and ready for more.

Things had continued to heat up in the living room. Izzy was now naked, as was her mother, both of them seated on the sofa frigging themselves silly. Fiona had finished her own orgasm and was now using her fingers to bring her daughter off while they both watched the movie. It was little Emily that surprised me the most, though. She was naked and kneeling on the floor between her mother’s legs, licking her pussy.

“Wow,” I whispered to Mum, “Look at Emily and Lottie!”

She smiled. “I know. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…”

“Um, baby girl? Do you fancy doing that to me?”

“Sure, I’d love to,” I said, then looked over at the TV, where Claire was still pounding Mum with her strap-on. “Is the right bit of the film for you, then?”

“Yes, it is.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“Watch,” was all she said.

I got out of Mum’s lap, and as I did she lifted her bum off the sofa and pulled her dress over her head, leaving her sitting there in just her bra. I scanned the room and looked at everyone else going totally naked, then thought Oh, the heck with it! and whipped my own dress off.

Mum smiled. “Good girl, Kimmy,” she said.

I knelt between her legs and quickly glanced up at the TV. All four of the younger versions of our mums had stood up and were moving about. It took me a while to realise what was happening. Lottie lay down on the sofa and Mum had got on top of her with the strap-on thingy in her pussy. Fiona was sitting on the arm of the sofa just above Lottie’s head with her legs open, so Mum was in a perfect position to lick her when she leaned forward.

Then Claire positioned herself behind Mum. I couldn’t think what she was going to do at first, then it struck me: she was going to put her strap-on in Mum’s bum! Oh my GOD, Mum’s got one toy in her pussy and one in her bum, both at the same time!

“Kimmy…” whispered Mum, bringing my attention back to her.

Her fingers were working her clit. I remembered why I was kneeling down there. “Oh, yeah, sorry,” I said and leaned in to taste her.

“We can watch this again at home, I’ve got a copy and we can… oh, shit… yes, Kimmy, that’s it, right there, baby.”

Mum was soaking wet and already very close to coming, so I went straight for her clit. At the same time, I slipped two fingers inside and felt around for her G-spot.

“God, we were such a bunch of sluts,” said Fiona. “Not for boys, though,” she added, as if her words  needed an explanation.

But nobody answered. Everyone was too busy getting off while watching the film. Well, I assumed they were. I couldn’t see the others, I was occupied licking Mum. In less than a minute she was holding my head in place and raising her knees up as she came bucket loads. I lapped up most of it, but some dribbled off my face and onto the floor. If I’d looked up I would’ve seen Mum biting her lower lip, like she always did when getting off. Wish I had a picture of her doing that; I’d never get tired of looking at it.

Mum reached the peak of her climax and was coming down, so I started giving her pussy soft kisses instead. She released my head from her grip and relaxed her legs, sinking back into the sofa with a happy sigh.

Suddenly I was aware of movement close behind me. I turned to see Fiona and Lily, both naked, kneeling close by.

“Hi, Kimmy,” said Fiona, “you guys having fun there?”

“Yeah, loads. How about you two?” I said.

Lily nodded and Fiona said, “Uh-huh, we’re having a great time. So… would you mind if we gatecrashed your little party?”

“There’s always room for more,” said Mum with a smile.

Fiona got up and sat next to Mum on the sofa, while Lily budged up next to me. “Can I kiss you?” she asked. She was shy, unable to meet my eyes for very long.

She looked so sweet and so beautiful I couldn’t help but say, “Sure!”

We came together in a gentle kiss, but within a minute or so we were snogging away like crazy. From the corner of my eye, I could see Mum and Fiona kissing and touching each other.

I’d never had sex with a young girl before – just my Mum, and now Fiona. But kissing Lily and running my hands over her smooth skin got me hot as a poker. I wanted to do a LOT more with her.

I was about to test the water and reach between Lily’s legs, but she beat me to it and I felt her slim fingers slide along my kitty. I wasn’t far behind, though. As I put my hand between her legs I glanced at our Mums, and they were doing much the same, kissing and touching each other’s pussies.

Then they broke off and looked at us, smiling in that adoring way mummies do.

“Aw, look at our two girls, don’t they look great together Fi?”

“Uh-huh, like a couple of mini-versions of us. Only a lot cuter and sexier.”

I looked at Lily, whose eyes were fixed between Mum’s legs.

“Would you like to taste my mum?” I asked her.

“Yes, please,” she replied.

I put my hand on her leg. “Would it be okay if I tasted you too? Like, at the same time?”

“Yeah, that would be great!” Then Lily looked a little confused. “How would that work, then?”

I already knew how. I moved Lily in front of Mum, then lay down on the floor and slid underneath her, so she was kneeling over my face as she went down on Mum.

“Oh, my,” I heard Fiona say, resting her hand on my leg. “Look at this sweet child’s pussy, just waiting to be licked.”

I got my first taste of a little girl’s kitty as Fiona spread my legs, then I felt her hair brush my tummy. Lily’s kitty was delicious, small and tight with plump outer lips and just a hint of bright pink peeking through. Much like mine, which Fiona was now teasing with her tongue.

The whole thing felt really, really wicked, which turned me on even more. I mean, there I was, licking a nine-year-old girl who was licking my mum, while her mother was going down on me, all at the same time!

I lost track of what was happening on the TV, I could hear the noise of people coming, some from the TV, some from around the room. One of them was Mum; I’d always recognise the sounds she made when having an orgasm. Lily was obviously hitting the right buttons.

Guess I was too, because pretty soon Lily was grinding down on my face hard as I ate her smooth slit until she began to climax. As for me, I was close to having my own orgasm when I heard Claire say, “Hey, mind if I have a taste?”

Fiona raised her head from my pussy. “Sure,” she said.

A moment later, there was a different mouth between my legs again, which I presumed belonged to Claire. Then Lily got off my face and I was able to make eye contact with Claire, who smiled and said, “Mmmm, you taste great… just like a little girl should.”

Before I could form a reply, Fiona looked down at me and said, “Um, mind if I take the spot my daughter just vacated?”

As if I’d pass up the chance to taste Fiona again! I grinned and said, “I’d love that.”

It was then I noticed that my mother wasn’t up on the sofa anymore. She must have moved, but where to, I had no idea. Anyhow, Izzy quickly jumped into the seat Mum had been in as Fiona straddled my face with that beautiful orange-haired pussy I loved so much. I couldn’t see it, but I knew that she’d be licking Izzy while riding my face.

It turns out that Claire is very good with her tongue, not that I was surprised. She brought me to a climax with her mouth and fingers while I had Fiona’s delicious pussy in my face. I’d have liked to do more to Fiona, maybe put a finger in her bum or work her clit a bit better, but it was hard to concentrate with Claire bringing me off. Still, I made a pretty good job of it, giving her an orgasm.

By the time Fiona got off me, I was a complete mess. I’d lost count of how many times I’d come, and my face was covered with juices from my mum, Fiona and Lily. Looking around the room, it looked like  everyone was taking a breather. I stayed where I was, stretched out on the floor, gently stroking Izzy’s leg while she slouched on the sofa. Mum was on the sofa opposite me with Emily on top of her. Bet they just fucked, I thought.

“Did the film end?” Lottie asked.

“Yeah, a few minutes ago,” said Claire, “I think we all missed quite a bit of it.”

“Good job you sent us all a copy, then,” said Mum.

“Oh, bother. I wanted to see the ending. I have wet dreams about that daisy chain to this day,” said Fiona.

“What’s a daisy chain?” asked Lily.

Fiona smiled at her daughter, “It’s where…”

“Er, Fi? Instead of telling her, why don’t we show them?” said Mum.

“Ooh, yeah! But let the kids experience it themselves. That would be a lovely sight!” said Lottie.

I was confused. Wasn’t a daisy chain a bunch of flowers woven into a necklace or bracelet? “Um, how do you ‘experience’ a daisy chain?” I said with a frown.

“We’ll show you,” said Mum. “Right, all you girls come into the middle of the room.”

As we all made our way to the centre of the living room, the adults sat around us on the sofas.

“Okay, so a daisy chain is where you all lie in a circle, licking each other. Here, Kimmy, sweetie, lie on the floor on your side.”

I did as Mum asked and then she said, “Good, now, um, Kimmy, is there a girl you haven’t licked yet?”

“Yeah, Emily and Izzy.”

“Okay, so Emily, you lie here…” she said, placing Emily on her side by my head. “Good. Now Izzy, we’ll put you here.” Now Izzy was down by my feet. “Perfect. Lily, sweetie, you lie between Izzy and Emily.” Once Lily was in place, Mum continued, “Now everyone budge up so you’re facing the pussy of the girl in front of you.”

“Oh, I get it now!” exclaimed Lily with a giggle.

“Me, too. This is a great idea,” I said.

I’d never even imagined such a thing, four of us in one big circle licking each other. Not only did I get to taste Emily’s yummy kitty, but I got to have Izzy lick mine too, and she was almost as good at it as her mum. Having come so many times already, I was able to just enjoy the feeling of a warm, wet mouth on my pussy and concentrate on what I was doing with Emily.

With the angle I was in I had easy access to both her kitty and her bum, and I made good use of both. It was lovely licking her kitty then being naughty and slipping my tongue inside her bottom. I even fingered her a bit too, which she seemed to like. That was when she came. In the other direction, Izzy was coming too, her action on me had slowed to a trickle and she was moaning loudly. The adults were not idle either, they were all sitting around us on the sofas and masturbating while they watched the show.

After I don’t know how long, Mum clapped her hands and said, “Okay, now let’s switch! Everyone change direction, turn around so you’re facing the girl who just licked you.”

Oh, cool, now I could taste Izzy, the only girl I’d not had yet, and Emily could go down on me. Izzy was soaking wet, so I used my fingers on her while I licked her clit, slipping in and out of her pussy with no trouble. Then I got very naughty and slipped a finger into her bum as well.

“Oh Christ, yes, fuck YES!” Fiona cried.

I was just thinking that this daisy chain was about the best thing in the world and couldn’t possibly be any more fun, when Mum said, “Okay ladies, that’s enough voyeurism. Shall we join in?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” said Claire.

As you might imagine, we girls were way into that idea. We broke the chain apart, then arranged it so the order went girl, adult, girl, adult and so on. I had my head between Lottie’s legs, with Claire between mine.

Okay, this was now officially the best thing ever. Before long, orgasms were breaking out everywhere, with yelling and swearing and moans and whimpers. Claire worked her magic and brought me off yet again. I was glad when Mum called out, “Now switch!” and we changed direction again, mainly because it gave me a minute to recover. But soon enough Lottie was licking away at me like mad and I was brought straight back to the edge.

Part of me wished I could have been out of the circle for a moment, watching four mums and four young girls in one big incestuous lesbian chain. I suppose if I wanted to sit it out and just watch I could have done, but there was no way I’d miss out on being a part of this. It would have been really cool if we could have filmed it, then we could watch it back whenever we wanted. But I think I know what Mum would say to that idea.

I’m not sure how it happened, but at some point the chain broke down and turned into a kind of massive pile-on. We became a writhing mass of naked bodies in the middle of the room, all clambering to get at each other. I was licking Izzy’s pussy, I’m not sure who she was licking and I had no idea who was between my legs, but there were at least two people, I think. I had tongues exploring my kitty and bum that would be replaced by fingers and then tongues again. At one point I had both my hands playing with two different pussies – one was Mum, I’m not sure who the other one was. I came yet again in that frantic melee.

It wasn’t possible to keep going at that pace for very long though, it was far too intense and soon people began peeling off and slouching on the sofas until it was just Izzy and Claire left on the floor. In our slightly heady, dazed state the rest of us watched as mother and daughter went from frantically pawing at each other to relaxed lovemaking. It was a beautiful sight. Eventually, even they settled down into cuddle mode like the rest of us.

The last person I had sex with was Fiona. The two of us fucked on the sofa, and when we’d finished we just stayed where we were, our bodies nestled together. She was lying flat with her head on the armrest, and I was between her legs with my head on her tummy, just a few inches from the pussy I’d just showered with affection. I was running my fingers through her lovely orange pubic hair and twiddling it about as our group casually chatted. After a while I crawled into Fiona’s arms to cuddle.

The others were in much the same sort of state as Fiona and I were, nestled into whoever they were with after making love. The conversation had ebbed and flowed, but I hadn’t been paying much attention – too busy daydreaming again.

I was jolted back to reality when the conversation turned to going home. “What time is everyone leaving tomorrow?” Lottie asked.

“We’ll be going straight after breakfast,” said Claire.

Leaving Grafton Lodge was a depressing thought. I tried to banish it from my mind, but with little success.

“Can we come back soon?” Asked Emily, who was lying on my mum.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll be back here as soon as we can all manage it,” said Lottie. “It’s our place, after all.”

“Can we bring James next time?” asked Izzy.

“We can,” said Claire, “but we’ll have to be mindful that not everyone is comfortable doing this sort of thing around boys. Maybe we’ll have our own special little weekend, just you, your brother and me.”

“I’d like that,” said Izzy.

“Speaking of bringing others to Grafton, I know someone who I suspect would fit in very nicely here,,” said Lottie.

“Oh, who is that?” asked Fiona.

“Her name is Kiki, and she’s the chair of the board of governors at Emily’s school. She has a daughter called Henri, she’s around twenty-nine or thirty I think, and Henri has a gorgeous little girl named Antoinette who is nine. She’s in the year below Emily.”

Emily spoke up. “Everyone calls her Toni, though. She’s very pretty, she’s got blonde hair like me.”

“When they’re together, you’d think they were sisters,” said Lottie.

“And you think they might be interested in the same things we are?” said Mum, being her usual cautious self. I totally get why we have to think that way, though.

“I’m not a hundred percent certain, mind you… but yes, I think they are. Kiki is very forward when she wants to be. The other day we were watching the girls play hockey, and I remarked on how beautiful they looked on the field. ‘You should see them in the showers’ was her reply.”

“That’s not much to go on,” said Mum.

“True, but it’s only one of the hints she’s dropped. Her interest in the girls is sexual, I’d bet my life on it. But there’s more. Last week we invited Toni over to our house for a play date with Emily, they spent most of their time in her room making out. Toni told Emily that her mother taught her to kiss, and I quote, ‘a lot more’. They’ve got another sleepover arranged next weekend.”

“Okay, that does sound like we’re on the same page,” said Claire, “if all goes well at that sleepover, then maybe they can join us the next time we come down here.”

“I’ll keep you posted,” said Lottie, then she did a big yawn. “Gosh, I’m tired, I think it’s bedtime for me.”

Lily and Izzy, who were cuddling, whispered something back and forth to each other, then Lily said, “Mum, can I sleep in with Izzy and Claire tonight please?”

Fiona looked at Claire, who nodded, so she said, “Yes sweetie, you can.”

“You can stay in with me and Mum if you want,” I said to Fiona.

Mum was about to agree when Lottie said, “Actually, Bell, why don’t you stay in with me and Emily. I know she’d like that… and then the two lovebirds over there can be alone.”

I was grinning like mad and hugging Fiona tightly, thrilled to be called “lovebirds.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” said Mum, “if that’s okay with you, Fi?”

Fiona placed a tender kiss on my cheek, then said, “I’d love that.”

With the sleeping arrangements decided, we all said goodnight and went up to bed. After I’d brushed my teeth and given Mum a big hug goodnight I went to Fiona’s room. I was still naked; the nightie I’d packed for the trip hadn’t even been unpacked.

“Ah, there you are,” Fiona said when I entered. “How would you like to share a bath with me?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

Soon we were both soaking in a hot bath with this lovely citrus scent Fiona added. We were both at the same end, and I was lying back against Fiona with my head nestled between her breasts. She wrapped both arms around me and we cuddled like that for ages in the dim moody lighting.

“Did you have a nice time this weekend?” she asked me.

“Yeah, the best time ever,” I sighed. “I don’t want it to end.”

“Me neither, but we can come back soon.”

“I know, and that will be nice, but I meant… oh, it doesn’t matter.”

“It’s okay, Kimmy, you can tell me.”

I was suddenly very bashful, which was completely stupid. “Can you wash my hair for me, please?” I said, changing the subject.

“Of course, sweetie.”

We washed each other and cuddled some more then got out and dried off and got into bed – still naked, of course. I cuddled up to Fiona under the covers, it was lovely and snuggly and just what I wanted, it felt so nice. But I couldn’t shake that hint of sadness, knowing it would all end the next morning.

“I’m going to miss you like crazy,” she said.

“Do you mean that?”

“Of course I do, I’d never lie about such a thing.”

“I’m going to miss you too, lots and lots. I don’t mind leaving here, because I know we’ll come back. It’s you I don’t want to leave, though.”

“But I’ll be here when we come back and we can see each other again then.”

“I know but… but…”

“Are you worried it’ll be different?”

“Yes.”

“Hmmm, I wasn’t going to say anything to you until I’d spoken to your mum, but to hell with it, I’m going to ask you anyway. How would you like it if we saw a lot more of each other?”

“I’d love that, you know I would… but how?”

“I’m not sure yet, but we’ll find a way to make it happen, you don’t live that far, it’s a couple of hours at most. Maybe you could come and stay with Lily and me, or we could come and visit you.”

“Oooh, I’d love that so much.”

“Me too. Okay, I’ll speak to your mum tomorrow.”

I yawned then, which made Fiona yawn too.

“Time for some sleep I think,” she said and turned the light out.

We cuddled in spoons. I was the little spoon of course. She had her arms around me, holding me tight against her naked body. It was sexy, obviously, but that’s not really what I was feeling. It was more like…

“Fiona…”

“Yes, sweetie.”

“I love you, Fiona. I mean, I’m in love with you. Um, I wanted to tell you that in the bath.”

I heard a quiver in her voice when she spoke. “That’s so sweet, Kimmy.” Kissing my cheek, she said, “I love you too, dearest. With all my heart. And we will be together, as often as we can.”

With a blissful sigh, I drifted off to sleep in the arms of my new lover.

***

“Are you okay, sweetie?” said Mum.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

I blew my nose on the tissue and wiped a tear from my eye as I watched the world pass by the car window. The goodbyes were hard for all of us, but especially so for me and Fiona. Of course, Mum had agreed we could see more of each other, but that still didn’t ease the pain of leaving her.

I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to hold back my tears until we’d got in the car. Then the floodgates opened. For at least half an hour I sobbed, going through a pile of tissues that now littered the footwell in the front seat.

Finally I spoke. “When do you think I’ll be able to see her again?”

“I need to check my diary when we get home… but soon, sweetie, I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Hmmmm,” she muttered a minute later.

“What?”

“You’ve been so distracted with Fiona, I think there’s something you might have forgotten.”

“What have I forgotten?”

“Fancy playing the courtroom game?”

“Not really. Please, just tell me.”

“I think you’ve done a lot of growing up this weekend. Okay, I’ll just tell you then. We’ve only been away for three days.”

“Yes, I know. Oh, hang on…you said we’d be having sex for four days!”

“Spot on.”

“Mum, just tell me, I’m not in the mood for – oh my God, Hanna! Hanna and Aunt Beth. How could I have forgotten them?”

“Love will do that to you.”

“Are they, I mean, did they… make love?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Haven’t you spoken to them?”

“Nope.”

“What, not at all? Not even a message?”

“Nope, not a word.”

“So you don’t know if they had sex or not.”

“No, but I’m hoping no news is good news. If events played out as they should have done, your aunt and your younger sister spent most of the last couple of days naked and in bed.”

“So that’s what the fourth day is for?”

“Just so. We’ll know in a couple of hours if it’s going to happen. The plan is for you, me, Hanna and Aunt Beth to fuck each other silly.”

Hearing my mother use that word gave me a delicious shiver. “Mum?”

“Yes, sweetie.”

“Does this car go any faster?”

The End