Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By BlueJean

The Mal De Mer was a rowdy but friendly pub, until someone looked at someone else the wrong way, or a careless word was uttered after one too many drinks – and then all hell broke loose, as is often the way of harbour-town establishments.

The night before Uncle Derek was to set out on another fishing trip, he and his crew had gathered at the pub to observe the ancient maritime ritual of getting as shit-faced as possible before heading out to sea. Always partial to a few beverages herself, Aunt Rita had joined them, and I was introduced to my first taste of Morcant-On-Sea hospitality.

My uncle bought the first round: A pint of Guinness for himself and another for Aunt Rita, lager for Jack, something brown and murky for Sully, and a large red wine for Odette – apt for a French woman, I suppose, but somehow I had her down for a beer drinker. I had no option but to settle for a Coke when my request for a small white wine had been scuppered.

We sat around a table in the corner of the bustling pub and listened to Jack drone on about his mythical fighting prowess. “He comes up to me, right? He comes up and he’s, like, ‘You wanna piece of me, do ya?’ So I fuckin’ drop-kicked him, and he goes flying ‘cross the road, and he’s got this stunned look on his face. I says to him, ‘Stay down, mate. Stay down’.”

Odette offered the boy a pat on the back. “Oh, you are a tough guy, no? But it is not nice to beat up dwarves.”

Uncle Derek slapped the table in amusement. “HAHAHA!”

Jack went red-faced and gave Odette a scowl. “Very funny. He weren’t a dwarf. He was at least six foot.”

“It might have been a dwarf standing on top of another dwarf,” Aunt Rita chipped in, rousing another roar of laughter from everyone.

“Or a dwarf on stilts!” I chirped.

“Or a really tall dwarf,” Sully said in a deadpan voice, which drew a few odd looks. “With a parrot,” the old man added.

“Er… good one, Sully,” Uncle Derek told his first mate.

“Look, there weren’t any fucking dwarves,” Jack protested. “Not a single one. He was a big stocky bloke with these weird starey eyes and a tongue that kept lolling out.”

We all remained tight-lipped, and tried our best not to laugh at the poor boy, until Uncle Derek put his arm round Jack’s shoulder and broke the silence with, “Down syndrome fella, was he?” causing the rest of us to fall about laughing.

Even Jack couldn’t help but smile. “Bastards.” He got up and headed towards the bar. “S’pose it’s my round. Not that you lot deserve it.”

As the evening wore on and the glasses piled up, jokes were shared and songs were sung. Sitting there sipping my Coke like a fine wine, I felt like I belonged – that this was where I was supposed to be, warm and safe among this group of ragtag folk.

Until a large tattooed man with no neck and a handlebar moustache approached our table, and the congenial atmosphere turned sour in an instant.

“I’m still waitin’ for you to take a look at my motor, Rita,” the ugly-looking brute grunted.

Aunt Rita didn’t even bother looking up. “I ain’t fixing it.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you never paid me last time. And you’re an arsehole. But mostly ’cause you didn’t pay me.”

No-Neck rested his gorilla knuckles on the table. “You tellin’ me I need to take it to the mainland to get it fixed?”

“I don’t give a shit where you take it. No one screws me over.”

Uncle Derek laid a hand on No-Neck’s arm and smiled a humourless smile. “Away you go now, Petey. You’ve asked your question and you’ve had your answer.”

No-Neck-Petey glared at my uncle. “You best take your hand off me, Derek.”

Uncle Derek’s hand remained where it was. “We really doing this again, Petey? You sure about this?”

It’s strange how an entire pub full of people can instinctively sense when the shit’s about to hit the fan – a hair raising, adrenaline primed sixth sense of foetal position inducing weirdness that fills the air like a contagious wave, triggering that good old primal fight-or-flight instinct.

Everyone found their feet all at once. Odette hunched her shoulders like a bull ready to charge, while Jack eyed the nearest exit with an air of self-preservation that suited him far better than the bravado he tried to project. Sully pulled me backwards away from the table and shielded me with his arms.

“I’ll tell you one more time, Derek,” No-Neck-Petey rumbled. “Take. Your. Fucking. Hand. Off. My—”

Aunt Rita’s fist flew through the air and landed squarely on the ape-man’s jaw with a crack. “Take that, fucker!” she yelled.

No-Neck, realising he couldn’t hit a woman back – not in a busy public house, at least – thumped Uncle Derek instead, knocking him back towards the bar and into a weaselly looking man, who promptly spun around and smashed his beer glass over my uncle’s head. Odette lurched towards her captain and hoisted up his scrawny assailant, throwing him across the bar like a sack of spuds.

And then, of course, everyone else either ran for the door or simply joined in, leaving me to duck under the table as a chair flew over my head.

As chaos erupted all around me, I stuck my hand up and groped about until I found a glass, pulling it back under the table and gulping the contents down before anybody could notice. Red wine – full bodied; fruity with floral notes.

Sully headbutted a smart looking gentleman in a three-piece suit as I crawled on all fours over to the next table.

Half a glass of gin and tonic – lipstick round the rim; garnished with a slice of lemon. Dry but refreshing.

Jack came sliding towards me on his belly, having been swung round and hurled across the floor by a fat man with a comb-over. He regarded the empty gin glass in my hand, then flashed me a knowing grin – as if he didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to.

“Don’t tell, okay?” I appealed to him, a finger to my lips.

But then the handsome young fool was gone, dragged out from beneath the table and tossed in some new direction.

A quarter of a glass of Mojito – rum, sugar, lime juice, club soda. Finished with freshly picked mint leaves, slices of lime and two rapidly melting ice cubes.

And there went Aunt Rita, riding on the back of No-Neck-Petey with her teeth clamped round one of his ears, while the great brute of a man thrashed about and howled his outrage.

Time to move. I scarpered through a storm of flying fists and glasses to the safety of the next table.

Half a pint of dry cider – a faint aftertaste of stale tobacco.

Uncle Derek seemed to have pissed off two young women who had caught him in a pincer movement, slapping him repeatedly while he roared with laughter.

One third of a glass of Pernod & Black – Pastis liqueur; blackcurrant cordial. Strong aniseed base with fruit undertones. Soggy pork scratching optional.

Quite unexpectedly, a loud shot rang out, deafening within the confines of the public house.

Everyone cowered at the sudden blast and followed it to its source: Sheila the landlady, standing on the bar, shotgun in hand – loaded with blanks, I later found out. “Everyone! Out of my pub!” the irate custodian wailed.

Those who hadn’t already vacated The Mal De Mer when the first fists were thrown did so now, until only myself, Aunt Rita, Uncle Derek and his crew remained.

“Rita! Derek! You’re both barred! Again!” came Sheila’s decree.

Aunt Rita furrowed her brow as she surveyed the battleground. “Uh… I appear to have lost my niece.”

The table I was hiding under levitated off the floor, and Uncle Derek loomed over me with that big grin of his. “She’s over ‘ere.”

“Peek-a-boo!” I squeaked.

Aunt Rita took the glass from my hand and sniffed its contents. “Oh, dear…”

You’ll forgive me if my recollection of the rest of the evening is a little hazy. I remember dancing outside the pub with Aunt Rita. Oh, and singing – there was lots of singing. I’m pretty sure I fell over a couple of times. Uncle Derek piggybacked me up the steep cobbled streets, and I seem to recall throwing up down the back of his shirt.

Somehow we made it back to the cottage and my uncle carried me upstairs, laying me down on my bed before disappearing to tend to his wounds. Aunt Rita undressed me and tucked me in, then made me drink a big glass of water.

“Can I live with you forever?” I asked her as she swept my hair from my eyes.

“Why would you want to stay here forever?”

“‘Cause it’s nice. And my mum doesn’t love me.”

Aunt Rita gave me a sad smile. “Love is a cage. You walk into it and the door locks behind you,” were her final words, before a drunken slumber claimed me.

***

I awoke the next morning feeling like death incarnate. My head thumped; nausea enveloped me. I made the solemn vow that every inexperienced drinker makes the first time they wake up with an apocalyptic hangover: Never again. Ever. Until the next time.

Stumbling out of bed, I slithered down the spiral staircase towards the bathroom to relieve myself. I considered throwing up as well, but somehow managed to keep it down. My reflection stared back at me in the cabinet mirror, so I poked my tongue out at it for its insolence. “Naaaaah!”

I heard a voice coming from somewhere in the house, and thought it was Aunt Rita on the phone until I drew closer to her room. Her door was half open, leaving me free to peer inside. I gasped in shock.

She lay sprawled on the bed, naked but for her socks, legs spread, knees apart, a large veiny silicone cock buried in her vagina.

I pushed open the door without thinking and stood there in just my knickers. “Hi…” I said and gave her a silly wave.

“Did I wake you?” an unfazed Aunt Rita asked me as she idly fucked herself.

I shook my head.

“How do you feel?”

“Not good,” I admitted.

My aunt chuckled. “Serves you right.” Withdrawing the large toy from her cunt, she brought its head to her clit, using it to tease and stimulate the sensitive nub. “Your uncle sailed out this morning. It’s just you and me again.”

I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me, then leant back against it.

“Would you like to help me?” my aunt asked.

“How?”

She beckoned me over with the crook of a finger. I padded across the room and climbed onto her bed. To say I could smell her arousal would be an understatement. Her scent was strong – almost unnaturally so, and I wondered if that awful hangover had amplified my senses, as often they do. Regardless, I was giddy with the aroma, my own pussy awakening with a throbbing need.

Rita took my hands and placed them on the silicone cock sticking out of her. “Fuck me with it.”

I knelt between her legs and grasped the toy, slowly feeding it into her.

“Deeper,” she demanded, so I burrowed further still, her hungry cunt devouring the greater portion of the dildo’s veiny length. I drew it back out and watched in fascination as her inner labia clung to it, as if reluctant to let go.

“That’s it,” my aunt groaned. “In and out. In and out. A little faster.”

I found a steady rhythm, pistoning back and forth as my aunt sat propped up against the pillows kneading her full breasts, legs spread wide to allow my labours to continue unobstructed.

“You smell so nice,” I murmured, intoxicated by her thick musk.

“You like smelling Aunty’s pussy?” Rita growled.

“Yeah.”

“Dirty little girl.”

I liked hearing her call me that. “Say more naughty things to me.”

“Shove that cock into Aunty’s cunt, little girl,” she hissed. “Fuck me good and hard.”

I gave my aunt an innocent look, fluttering my lashes at her. “Shall I take my panties off for you, Aunty?”

“Ooh, yeah. I wanna see your bare pussy while you fuck me.”

I left the dildo half buried in my aunt’s cunt while I stood on the bed and slowly peeled my knickers off. Kicking them away, I spread myself open for her. “D’ya like that?”

Aunt Rita murmured her approval.

I hunkered down and took the toy into my hands again, liquid sounds accompanying each sordid thrust as I continued to drive it back and forth.

Aunt Rita reached a hand beneath herself and pushed a finger into her bum. “If I play with my arsehole while you fuck me with that cock, I’ll go off like a firework.”

“That’s so rude.”

“But y’know what would be even better?”

“What?”

She unsheathed her engorged clitoris and gave me a hungry look. “If you suck on my clit while you fuck me.”

Face poised between my aunt’s legs, the humid, animal heat of her arousal enveloped me. I took her tender node between my lips to nurse upon it like a nipple.

Aunt Rita thrust her hips out, a finger attacking her arsehole while I ate her clit and fucked her with the dildo. “Fuck… Gonna come so hard…!”

And she did. Rippling contractions ejected the toy from her spasming cunt, vaginal juices spraying my face and chest. She gave an ear-piercing scream, her body frozen in ecstatic contortion.

“Holy shit…” I whispered, my aunt’s musky fluids dripping from my chin. I hadn’t expected a deluge like that.

With laboured breath, Aunt Rita opened her arms in invitation. As I fell into her naked embrace, her hands moved with a strange attentiveness across my face and through my hair. Then her fingers were inside my mouth, swirling around my cheeks and across my tongue while she whispered words that I couldn’t quite make out. Before I could ask what she was doing, her lips found mine, and I was returning the kiss with all the passion I could muster.

When we broke apart, my aunt settled back against her pillows with a look of pure satisfaction. “Thank you, Hailey.”

“Ah… you’re welcome, I guess.”

“Was it okay that we did that?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, definitely. I really like doing sex stuff.”

“I need to taste you,” my aunt crooned as she gently pushed me back onto the bed. Prising my knees apart, she craned her neck to get at my pussy, breathing in my scent first, then working the tip of a finger through my outer labia. When her tongue finally made contact with my aching cunt, I shivered with delight, surrendering to her touch.

I could feel the inevitable seismic shift of my orgasm rumbling beneath the surface, but Aunt Rita would not allow its release just yet. With a sly smile, she rolled me onto my side and forced my arse cheeks apart, giving me some clue where her tongue was headed next. Sure enough, I felt her probe the taut opening of my bum, the sensation strange and new but certainly not unwelcome.

She attacked my pussy and arsehole with a relentless ferocity, her tongue lashing against me with such force and celerity that it seemed to be everywhere all at once. My body was slave to the sudden brief rigor mortis of climax before erupting into uncontrollable spasms, my headache blooming with a raw intensity. A long-drawn-out groan escaped my lips, both of pleasure and of pain.

Aunt Rita hissed her delight. “Yes! Come for me, you dirty little girl!”

Waves of ecstasy rolled over me, each one less intense than the last, until finally I could function to some degree of normality.

My aunt peppered my inner thighs with kisses. “How was that?”

“Sick,” I replied earnestly.

“Eh?”

“It means ‘awesome’,” I explained. “Actually, I do feel a bit sick. Can I have a couple of painkillers, please?”

Aunt Rita fetched a glass of Alka Seltzer, and I gulped down the unpleasant tasting liquid as rapidly as I could.

We spent the rest of the morning lounging naked in bed, me nestled between my aunt’s legs while she wove iridescent pearls into strands of my unruly hair. A cool breeze stirred the net curtain over the bedroom window, blowing across my skin and drawing a wistful smile from me.

“When I daydream,” my aunt murmured, as she took a soft brush to my hair, “sometimes I imagine doing this with The One Who Got Away.”

“The One Who Got Away… I keep hearing you and Uncle Derek say that. What’s it mean?”

Placing the hairbrush down on the bedspread with a thoughtful reverence, Aunt Rita looked off into the distance. “She was our baby girl,” she told me softly.

I sat up and turned to face her. “You had a baby? I – I didn’t know that.”

“She didn’t stay with us for long. We didn’t even have time to name her.”

“What happened?”

“She… she wasn’t made for this world – her little webbed hands and feet; skin so thin it was almost translucent.” A flash of anger flittered across my aunt’s face. “The doctor said she was deformed. He actually said that to my face. I smacked him in the mouth for it. But she wasn’t deformed, Hailey. She was beautiful. She was our daughter.”

“Oh my God, Aunt Rita. I’m so sorry.”

“So the doctors and midwives left us alone, and we held her and murmured words to her and kissed her. And then she died in my arms. She… got away.”

Tears streamed down my aunt’s face. I wrapped my arms around her as she quietly wept.

“It broke your uncle. He found ways to blame himself, as men always do. I tried to guide him through his grief as I was dealing with mine. And I knew I couldn’t leave him.”

“Leave him? Why would you leave Uncle Derek?”

My aunt wiped her tears away and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” She climbed off the bed and slipped her knickers on. “Get dressed. We can head to the beach for the afternoon, if you like.”

***

We strolled down to the beach café for cappuccinos and a shared bacon sandwich, then made our way across to the pale white sand at the water’s edge, sea birds flying to and from their cliffside nests and the soft sound of waves lapping against the shore.

We spoke of many things, my aunt and I. Love and loss, soaring happiness and broken hearts, of running away and of staying put, of swimming with the tide and swimming against it. And hand in hand, I realised we had reached a new understanding, not just as aunt and niece, but as friends.

Aunt Rita led me round the peninsula to a secluded stretch of beach where, to my amazement, we found ourselves confronted by a ring of fossilised tree stumps.

“Whoa! What’s this?”

“This,” Aunt Rita told me, “is a seahenge.”

“Like… like Stonehenge?”

“Yeah. Except this one is made from wood. It’s only visible for a couple of hours each day when the tide is out.”

I wandered around the circumference of the circle and counted forty-five smaller trunks, with a gigantic upturned tree stump settled squarely between them. “Who put it here?” I asked my aunt.

“The ancient Celts. With a little guidance…”

“It’s amazing.”

“It is. And it’s where our little girl rests.”

It took me a brief moment to fathom the meaning of her words. “The One Who Got Away?”

Aunt Rita gave a nod. “The sea protects her now. The sea… and those little rascals.” She gestured to the water’s edge and I gasped in amazement.

The seals lumbered ashore and found their way up onto the large flat trunk in the centre of the circle – seven of them altogether, various sizes and mottled hues: greys and blacks, whites and browns. I found myself entertaining the notion that Madeline might be there amongst them, looking back at me from the dark eyes of her seal form.

“Aunt Rita?” I called as my aunt began heading back towards the town.

“Hmm?”

“I… I don’t think Madeline is human.”

My aunt gave a brief snort of laughter. “Well, that’s a bit mean! Come on, let’s go home.”

I ran after her, and together we strolled along the sand towards the harbour. My aunt turned and walked backwards, then hollered to the basking seals, “Look after her, okay?!”

I wasn’t sure if she meant Madeline or her lost baby.

***

My life in Morcant-On-Sea settled into a familiar rhythm. Uncle Derek would come and go, leaving Aunt Rita and me to enjoy each other’s company, both socially and sexually. I didn’t see much of Madeline, other than the occasional visit to the cottage or chance meeting around town. My infatuation with her had somehow diminished since my aunt and I had become intimate. I wondered if I’d come to be a substitute friend for Aunt Rita too, given the dwindling amount of time she spent with the doctor.

When I wasn’t exploring the beaches, swimming in the warm waters of the shallow bays, or delighting in the seals as they basked upon the great fossilised tree trunk, I would sometimes help Aunt Rita as she tinkered with her cars, and often we would end the day gleefully covered in oil and grime.

The nights were our ‘special time.’ Some evenings she would come to my room, other nights I’d go to hers, and together we would explore our burgeoning desire in ever more inventive ways.

On occasion, I’d catch the faint voice on the wind and sneak out to follow it down to the harbour, but I never found Madeline on the beach again, if indeed I hadn’t dreamt her there to begin with.

One late evening though, when I should have been tucked up in bed, I found Sully sitting on the harbour wall with a bottle of bourbon in his hand. The old man was quietly sobbing, and at first I considered turning round and sneaking back home, but empathy and curiosity drove me towards him.

I put a hand on his shoulder. “Sully?”

The old sailor gave a start and turned to me, wiping his rheumy eyes with the back of a hand. “Hailey? What’re you doing up at this hour?”

I didn’t see the point of lying. “I sneak out sometimes. I like it down by the harbour when it’s quiet. And I hear singing.”

“Singing?”

“Yeah. I think it’s Madeline.”

Sully gave me an odd look. “Right… If you say so.”

I sat down next to him. “Why’re you crying?”

The old man shook his head sadly. “Oh, Hailey. We’ve done something terrible, me and your uncle.”

“What did you do?”

It spilled out of him – a confession of sorts, as if he needed to tell someone, even if that someone was an eleven-year-old girl. “Me and Derek, we was out to sea – those were the days before Odette and Jack joined up. It was a rough trip – seas were choppy; haul too small to make a profit. So, on the last day we was bringing up the nets as usual, but… there was something in there. We thought it was a dead body at first, ’till I sees the seal flipper down where her legs should’ve been.”

“A Selkie…” I whispered.

Sully gave a single nod of the head. “Aye. I knew what it was. I begged Derek to throw it overboard, but once that stubborn fool gets an inklin’ into his head, he takes hold like a barnacle.”

If it wasn’t for the distraught look on his face, I would just as easily have assumed that Sully was playing one of his pranks on me.  “Jesus Christ on a two-stroke moped! I bloody knew it!”

“Derek turned the boat round and headed back to Morcant. Then he… he peeled the sealskin away from her body. He gave it to me, told me to hide it, so’s no one could ever find it.”

“What did you do with it, Sully? Where did you hide it?”

He hung his head in shame. “I can’t say, girl. Your uncle made me swear an oath.”

I gripped the old man’s arm. “What you and Uncle Derek did was wrong, okay? She needs to go back to the ocean, and she can’t do it without her skin! You have to tell me where it is so I can give it back to her!”

“I ain’t had a decent night’s sleep since we found her, Hailey. There’s not a day goes by that I don’t feel the shame of it.”

“Where’s her sealskin, Sully?! Tell me!”

Finally, the old man relented. He blew out a big breath and turned to me. “You’re right. It’s time I made amends.” Pulling himself to his feet, he regarded the bottle with disgust, then went to hurl it into the harbour.

“Put it in the bin!” I told him, and he gave me an abashed look.

“Meet me at the old seahenge, three o’clock tomorrow afternoon, all right?”

“And you’ll show me where you hid her skin?”

“Aye. But say nothing to your uncle. Breaking a seaman’s oath is no small thing.” The old man stumbled away muttering to himself and disappeared up the steep cobbled street.

I sat on the harbour wall, trying to take in what I’d just been told. Madeline was a Selkie. It was all true. Did that mean little Isla was a Selkie too? Half Selkie? Would she be able to follow her mum into the ocean, or would she be abandoned forever?

Those questions would have to wait. All that mattered now was returning Madeline’s sealskin and righting a wrong.

“Hold on, Madeline,” I whispered to myself. “I’m gonna help you get home.”

On to Chapter Five!

by Karin Halle

After we came to the realisation that having separate apartments was a serious waste of money, my girlfriends and I elected to combine our resources and get a place together.

That’s right – girlfriends, plural. And by girlfriends, I really mean lovers.

My lovers are Alex and her sixteen-year-old daughter Louise. Plus me, Karin. That’s three women – okay, two women and a girl, to be precise. The three of us have been lovers for two years now, although Louise and her mother had been sexually intimate for a couple of years before I met them.

Sure, it’s unconventional, but it works for us. It gets tricky at times, because Louise and I are the true ‘couple’, but because she’s underage, Alex and I are the couple in the eyes of the world, and Louise is our adorable daughter. Complicated? Maybe, but it works.

We have lots of sex, but only do threesomes every once in a while. It’s agreed between us that we prefer giving undivided attention to just one lover at a time.

The main thing we all share, apart from each other, is a passion for art, which is why we set up a corner of the apartment where the light is best to use as a studio. Louise is a photographer, while Alex and I prefer painting, although we both sometimes indulge in photography as well.

Actually, Louise and I first met at a photographic exhibition that featured nude photos of a very-underage Louise – taken by her mother, who I’d met in an art class. That was when our crazy, tangled relationship began.

A few weeks ago, as Louise was nearing her sixteenth birthday, she got an idea stuck in her head about documenting herself in photos as she reached the age of consent. Several elements formed part of this project, but the centrepiece was to be a series of photographs that Louise planned to take of herself, naked and in extremely provocative poses. And Louise was very capable at being provocative.

The photo session commenced at five minutes before midnight, while Louise was still fifteen, and ended ten minutes later, by which time she was officially a year older. All the photos were only appropriate for publication in adult magazines, and she was underage in some of them, making those pictures theoretically illegal. The remainder of the shots, however, were not.

She set the camera to run automatically and capture a shot every five seconds, then adopted various poses for a continuous ten minutes. For some shots, she posed on a chair or some other prop that had been placed beforehand. The result was 120 shots – and once she’d developed them, the little minx complicated things by removing the date stamp from the images, then jumbling and retitling them with randomly selected letters, making it virtually impossible for anybody, even Louise, to distinguish the underage images from the legal ones with any certainty.

Louise selected twenty-five of the best photos to blow up and frame, then she booked space in an art gallery for an exhibition. That isn’t as big a deal as it sounds – the gallery was owned by her aunt Deanna, Alex’s sister. In fact, the room where Louise took the photos was in Deanna’s gallery. Like her niece and sister, Deanna liked to push boundaries – she had staged the exhibition at which I had first met Louise, an exhibition that featured many nude photos of young teens and children in addition to Louise. It had been a private showing, since the subject matter constituted what more than a few people would have labelled as child pornography.

Louise had ten prints made of each of the twenty-five original photos, intended to be sold as limited editions, personally signed and individually numbered by the artist herself.

The exhibition proved to be a successful one, and Louise ended up selling a generous number of her prints.

Alex, Deanna and I were all having a chat with Louise when she was approached by a woman who wanted to buy a print.

“It – it’s not for me, you understand,” the woman said. I couldn’t help but feel amused. Did she think we’d judge her for wanting an image of a beautiful naked girl?

Louise offered to add a personal dedication to her autograph, asking, “Who will I sign it to?” We could tell that she was teasing the woman a bit, but to the prospective buyer the enquiry sounded perfectly sincere.

We were all surprised when the flustered woman mumbled, “It’s for Chantel… she’s my daughter.”

Well, the woman looked to be a little younger than me, so she had to be somewhere in her mid-thirties. Which meant any daughter of hers would likely be no more than mid-teens, probably younger than Louise.

Obviously feeling a need to explain herself, the woman said, “My daughter likes girls, you see. She’s got pinup pictures of naked girls – you know, from magazines – on the back of her bedroom door. Anyhow, she has a big birthday coming up, and I wanted to get her something really special…” Her voice trailed off.

“How old will she be?” Louise asked. “Does she have a girlfriend yet?”

The woman’s face was unreadable as she quietly said, “Um, not yet, no. Chantel’s still so young. I’m sure she has crushes on girls she knows, though.”

“Ohhh! How sweet!” Louise exclaimed. The amount of empathy she was able to put into those few words amazed me, even though I already knew her so intimately.

Resting a hand on the woman’s arm – and I saw the woman shiver ever so slightly – Louise said, “That’s very thoughtful of you… so considerate. How do you spell her name?”

As the woman spelled out Chantel’s name, Louise wrote on the bottom margin of the print, To Chantel for her 13th birthday, with my congratulations and warmest wishes. Love, Louise. Each print had already been hand-signed with her name, so this extra message was a nice personal touch.

Introducing herself as Moira, Chantel’s mother was overjoyed to receive the photo, gushing, “Oh, thank you so much, Ms Whitcomb. She’ll really love this!”

Giving the woman an especially sultry look, Louise murmured, “If you are okay with allowing your daughter to come here, bring her in tomorrow and I’ll have something extra special for her — an exclusive photo. Not a print – a one-of-a-kind image.”

Overwhelmed, even blushing a little, the woman took the print that Louise had rolled up and popped into a protective tube, promising all the while that she would be back the following afternoon, Chantel in tow.

Even as I told Louise that she’d done a wonderful thing, I made it clear to her that I was far less naïve than the woman. And more suspicious. “Just what are you up to, my sweet?” I added.

“Oh, not much,” Louise replied casually – but not innocently. “I just thought that now that Chantel is a teenager, she just might be ready to get fucked.”

***

You have to understand: sexual exclusivity is not important to Alex or Louise.

I’m not like that – The notion of seeking out other sex partners has no real appeal for me. I’m quite satisfied with my two lovers. (Only two? Only?)

But as I’m not Alex’s girlfriend, I have no claim on her – she can do as she pleases.

Okay, so it’s a bit different with Louise – we are a loving, romantic couple. But I know that she sometimes has sex with girls at her school. I can accept that because I know she loves me and only fucks them for amusement. Mind you, that acceptance wasn’t always easy to achieve, as my upbringing was far more conventional than hers. Still, I don’t get jealous. There’s no need.

Admittedly, there is a gnawing feeling deep inside that someday Louise might meet and fall in love with someone else – someone who isn’t old enough to be her mother. If that does happen, it’ll hurt, but the pain will be easier to take if I can accept that it’s in her nature.

***

The following afternoon, Chantel and her mother arrived at Deanna’s gallery. As soon as they walked through the door, Louise spotted them and hurried over to introduce herself. She then made a point of taking the younger girl on a personal tour of the exhibition. Alex and Deanna were also showing little clusters of guests around, but Louise gave her new friend special VIP treatment.

That left me with Chantel’s mother, and we chatted a bit while strolling about, viewing the multiple images of a naked Louise. I found that very interesting – she’d seen the exhibit the day before, after all. Yet there she was, taking it all in as if for the first time.

“You have a lovely daughter,” I told her. “I’m sure she makes you very proud.”

“She’s the light of my life,” she told me. “Since my divorce, it’s just been the two of us.” She paused before an especially explicit shot of Louise, thighs spread apart and a hand resting about an inch from her vulva.

“I think it’s great that you’re okay with Chantel liking girls,” I told her. “Lots of mothers wouldn’t accept that at all.”

Moira blushed slightly. “I’m gay myself, actually,” she confessed. That surprised me; I’m usually spot-on when it comes to recognising lesbians. “It’s just that… well, I’m not quite as open about it as my daughter.”

“Girls like Chantel are the lucky ones,” I said. “They grew up in a more understanding time.”

Gazing across the room at her daughter, Moira nodded. “Chantel’s impatient for her first sexual experience. She hasn’t told me so, but I can tell.” With a wistful sigh, she added, “Her first lover will be one incredibly lucky girl. Or woman.”

Okay, that caught my interest in a big way. I didn’t really know this woman, and had only briefly met Chantel, but something about Moira made me wonder if she was sexually attracted to her daughter. She clearly adored the girl, though I sensed something more than just motherly affection.

Let’s face it, I was in a better position to recognise that kind of desire than most. I was in a romantic triad with a young girl who was also her mum’s lover… and my introduction to the lesbian life had been at the hands of my late daughter Larissa, who persuaded me to teach her everything about sex when she was terminally ill.

Does she really want Chantel that way? I asked myself, watching Moira carefully as she drifted from one erotic photograph to the next. Or is it just material she draws on for the occasional masturbation fantasy? 

Once we reached the last image, Moira sighed once more, closed her eyes for a few heartbeats, then turned to me. “Karin,” she said. “I have some errands to run… and, well, Chantel asked me earlier today if she could stay here in the meantime. I hate to ask, but could you…?”

“Look after her?” I replied. “Certainly, Moira. I’d be glad to.”

“She won’t need much looking after. Chantel is very mature for her age.”

“Not a problem, honestly. We can even provide lunch. I brought baked ziti, and there’s way too much for the staff and management.”

Taking my hand in hers, Moira gave it a squeeze. “Thank you, Karin. You’re making a sweet young girl very happy.” She leaned in close, her lips brushing my cheek, then left me with a shy smile. I watched her depart, admiring her figure. She had a lovely arse, and I wondered how it would feel in my hands.

Drifting over to where Louise and Chantel were standing, I let my lover know about Moira’s departure. Of course, that fitted quite nicely with her wicked plans for the daughter.

“This show is awesome,” Chantel declared, spreading her arms wide. “It’s so brave of you, Louise, doing something so… so important.” She had a determined set to her jaw. “I want to make art like this one day!”

That was Louise’s cue. “Would you be up for doing something truly daring in the way of art, then?” she asked. “If you mean what you say, I’ve got a project in mind that you’d be perfect for!”

“Maybe,” the barely teenaged girl answered, a bit cautiously. “What do you have in mind?”

So said the prey to the predator, I thought.

“I want to make a series of pictures, about girls loving each other,” Louise began, and I felt my knees start to tremble. “Very frank and sexual, not really suitable for display… something private. A personal kind of art, only allowed to be seen by a select few.”

I’d no idea whether Louise was getting anywhere with Chantel, but she was making my knickers damp.

“Sounds… interesting,” Chantel murmured, her expression giving nothing away..

“Are you game?” Louise purred, giving the girl an enticing smile.

“Hmmm. Well, I like girls… and I like pictures of girls – but you’re asking me to be in these, right? And I’d be, er, making love with another girl?”

Louise nodded. “Something like that.”

Chantel was mulling it over. “It sounds nice, but I’ve never done anything like that before. Don’t you want someone who, um, knows how? And I’m still just a kid, really. If you take pictures of me having sex, that could get you in huge trouble, I bet!”

I was impressed. This youngster was every bit as bright as she was beautiful.

Unfazed, Louise was quick to respond. “It’s true – photos of a girl your age having sex would be illegal. That’s why we’d keep them private, and no one would see them but people I trusted. And someone who’s never made love before is exactly what I want for this project.” Chantel opened her mouth to reply, but Louise raised her hand. “Take some time to think about it. Right now, I’ve got a special surprise for you… did your mum mention it?”

“A surprise? No,” Chantel answered, looking somewhat puzzled. “All Mum said was that she wanted to take me to this show, ‘cos she was sure I’d like it. So, um… what’s this surprise?”

“Come with me, and I’ll give it to you,” Louise said, leading the way to a door that led to Deanna’s private office suite. “Join us, Karin,” she added, glancing at me.

The prey was straying into the predator’s snare… and I realised that somehow, I’d been captured too. But I didn’t know just how trapped I was, not yet!

Louise invited us to sit on Deanna’s plush slate-grey sofa while she retrieved a small folder from a drawer in the coffee table. It contained the original prints of all the pictures that Louise had taken at her photo shoot, some colour, some black and white. “Here,” Louise said, handing the folder to Chantel. Pick out any one of these to keep. I’ll even sign it for you.”

To say Chantel was thrilled to bits would’ve been the understatement of the year. In fact, she seemed about to spontaneously combust as she pored through the folder’s contents, sighing and cooing over the many images of Louise in the nude. If I hadn’t already known Chantel was a budding lesbian, I certainly would have figured it out then.

The photo she finally chose was one that wasn’t selected for the exhibition. Louise had rejected it because she didn’t like the expression on her face. I couldn’t see anything wrong with it and, apparently, neither could Chantel.

The pose Louise adopted for that shot was pretty extreme. It was a colour photo of her casually seated in an armchair, one leg hanging over the arm, the other foot on the floor. Since she was naked with her legs open, Louise’s shaved pussy was in full view.

Louise certainly knew how to start Chantel’s motor. After going through all those pictures, the girl was visibly aroused, moving restlessly in her seat. I found myself wondering how wet her knickers were.

Taking the photo, Louise slipped it into a large display frame, then signed it, Thank you for liking me so much. I hope this picture brings you pleasure. With love, Louise Whitcomb. She even added a few X’s and O’s, then stood to give Chantel her prize.

Chantel was thankful beyond words. All but leaping up from the sofa, she hugged Louise – which was almost certainly what my wicked lover had been waiting for.

She returned the hug, then began moving her hands over and around the girl’s blooming body, dipping her head to place a tiny kiss on Chantel’s neck. Then another.

Before my eyes, Louise was seducing this beautiful young girl. There were no doubts about what my lover had in mind, and I suspected that my presence had been an integral part of her scheme. Now that Louise was making her move, I sensed it was time for me to leave.

I stepped towards the door, but Louise raised her head, making eye contact with me. She shook her head, mouthing the words “Don’t go.” I froze in mid-step as her mouth found Chantel’s, and they drifted into a slow, sensuous kiss. I knew those kisses well; they never failed to get my motor purring.

Feeling ridiculous, I stood where I was, waiting for Louise to give me some kind of hint about what she was up to. More than just a quick fuck with her new friend, I felt certain, but what else?.

The kiss was getting hot and heavy when Louise gently broke away and took the flushed girl by the hand. “You are exquisite, Chantel. Will you make art with me?”

Chantel said, “Um… okay,” but I heard her voice quiver a bit. She glanced at me, then back at Louise.

Opening the desk drawer once more, Louise extracted four glossy sheets that turned out to be proofs of some of the images from her portfolio – thirty small images printed on a single page, for easier comparison. The entire portfolio was on those few pages.

Handing the proofs to Chantel, Louise said, “This is what I want. Two people naked, in casual poses. There’ll be touching involved – probably a lot of touching, and even more, if you like. And we’ll be capturing it all on film. That’s why Karin’s here. She’s somebody I can trust.”

The explanation seemed to clarify things for Chantel, while it left me flattered, but puzzled. I’d learned a lot about photography since meeting Louise and becoming her lover, but I was nowhere in her league. Could I wield the camera skillfully enough to do justice to her vision?

“Karin is my lover, and I trust her completely,” Louise added, then smiled, “So, Chantel – are you game?”

When Chantel said, “Okay,” again, I noticed that she already sounded less apprehensive than she had mere moments ago. It appeared that our underage guest wanted what my lover was offering.

Louise led the way into the studio, which appeared not to have been used since she’d done her portfolio session there two weeks earlier. In fact, all the props were still in place. Opening a cupboard, Louise selected a camera which she passed to me, then she went over to where Chantel was standing.

Looking deep into the younger girl’s eyes – Is she trying to hypnotise her? I wondered – Louise said, “I’m going to undress you now, then I’ll take my clothes off. Karin will be taking photographs of us. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes, I – I think so,” Chantel told her.

“Good. Would you be more comfortable if Karin was naked, too…?”

That startled me. “Hey, wait! What?”

It wasn’t being nude that bothered me, just that events were unfolding so rapidly that I was having trouble keeping up. Still, I couldn’t deny that Louise’s suggestion appealed to me in a big way. Being naked with my sixteen-year-old lover and the even younger object of her wicked desire – was Chantel even thirteen yet? – was getting me dangerously hot.

Since my relationship with Louise began, I’d only had sex with her and her mum, Alex… which does sound quite kinky when you put it that way. Now I was convinced that Louise had plans to include me in her seduction of young Chantel, and it struck me that I was keen for it to happen.

My suspicions were confirmed when she told Chantel, “In fact, I think she ought to be included in these pictures. Would you like that?”

I could see arousal in the young girl’s eyes when she looked at me… though I wasn’t sure if she was really into sex with an older woman, or just thrilled with the whole erotic setup that Louise had staged. I didn’t know whether Chantel had ever done anything sexual… but with Louise calling the shots, she was certainly going to be engaged in a full-on carnal experience. I only hoped it wouldn’t be too much for her.

Taking her time with it, Louise undressed me. As she pulled my panties down, she quietly said, “I can smell you, lover – God, you are so ready for this!”

I don’t know whether Chantel heard that, but by then I didn’t care.

As I stood naked and on display, I saw Louise tearing up. “God, you are beautiful!” she said. “I love you so much, Karin.”

So what if I’m forty now, and not as firm and toned as I once was? If Louise approves, nothing else matters.

Reaching out, she lightly touched my vulva, thrilling me to the core. And knowing Chantel was watching Louise masturbate me only made it better. What a lovely girl she was. Though she was practically still a child, my longing for her was getting stronger by the second.

“You’re so wet!” Louise gasped. “This is turning you on big time, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes!” I panted.

“Good, because you’re going to be very important to this session… essential, even.”

If I was going to photograph Louise making love to Chantel, what she said was the absolute truth. But knowing my scheming little lover as well as I did, my sixth sense told me she was keeping something back. I needed to find out what I was missing.

Folding my arms, I tried to compose myself – no easy task, seeing as Louise was still fondling me. “Be straight with me, love,” I said. “There’s more going on than you’re telling. What are you up to?”

Her response was to slip two fingers into my cunt. I gasped, my legs suddenly feeling very unsteady, and that was when Louise told me, “You’re going to be the one who fucks our guest, my love. I’ll be taking the pictures.”

I parted my lips to protest, but she interrupted me. “Listen to me, Karin. It has to be you. You’ll be sweet and gentle – it’s the way you always are, my love. You couldn’t ask for a better choice to make Chantel a woman.”

Before I could stammer out a reply, Louise hastened over to Chantel. “Will you let my darling Karin make love to you? She’ll make it wonderful.” She touched the girl’s cheek. “We will get together, you and I, but I’m afraid I might be a little too… let’s say intense for your first time.”

Nothing could have prepared me for what Louise told Chantel next. “You know, Karin once knew a teenage girl who was dying… and she wanted to experience sex before she was gone. Karin made that girl’s wish come true… It was a glorious experience for them both, and it will be for you, too.”

I shivered. Louise didn’t mention that the girl was my precious child Larissa, who was taken from me two days after I made love to her.

Cupping Chantel’s face in both hands, Louise kissed the girl, then added, “I’ll take some beautiful pictures of your first sexual experience… and you’ll get copies of them to treasure forever. Are you okay with that?”

She was making her wild scheme sound so reasonable that Chantel didn’t seem to need much in the way of persuasion. Of course, Louise was also fondling the girl’s arse while she spoke.

“Yeah, I guess,” Chantel breathed. Then in a more deliberately stated tone, she added, “Yes.”

I wasn’t entirely on board, though. “But I’m with you now, Louise,” I said. “We’re a couple.” Of course, I was also intimate with her mum, but that was really more of a loving family thing. Besides, I didn’t dare admit to that in Chantel’s presence. “It feels like I’m being unfaithful to you. I mean–”

Louise’s eyes smouldered with a deep intensity. “You’re not, though. I’ve thought about this for a long time, Karin. I want to watch you introduce a girl to the beauty of sex. To teach a virgin how to be a woman; how to love a woman. It’s something you’d be perfect for. Me, I’d be too much for a girl’s first fuck. You know how wild I get when we make love.”

She punctuated her remarks by trailing a finger through my slit, using the fingernail to scratch between my labia. I gasped. She enjoyed getting rough with me, but always made it seem as romantic as a passionate kiss. I love it, but then I’m used to Louise and how she gives pleasure.

And I realised that she was right – my lover was in no mood to be gentle with Chantel, even if it was the girl’s first time.

“You’ll do this, won’t you?” Louise whispered, her lips teasing my ear. “For me?”

What else could I do? Taking a deep breath, I gave her a nod.

With my surrender, Louise returned her attention to our guest. “Can I get you naked now, gorgeous?” she cooed.

“Yes,” Chantel replied, blushing slightly. I knew she wanted this, though..

Louise pointed to the camera and told me, “You take these first ones, Karin.”

I positioned myself, peering through the viewfinder, then readied myself for the first shot.

Meanwhile, just as slowly as she’d removed my clothes, Louise undressed young Chantel.

However old she was, this girl was ripening beautifully into womanhood. Her breasts were small, and had only recently grown past mere swellings on her chest. There was still a hint of plumpness around her middle, and the patch of dark blonde pubes wasn’t thick enough to conceal her sex.

I photographed the scene carefully, using the camera to document each part of Chantel’s body as it was teasingly revealed. I also took shots of her face, capturing the girl’s excitement. Her eyes shone, her tongue emerged to moisten her lips, her hands grew restless, as if she wanted to touch something.

Taking the nude adolescent by the hand, Louise led her over to me. “You two get started… I’ll take over with the pictures.”

Was I the canvas and Chantel the paint, or were those roles reversed? The only certainty was that Louise was making use of both in her quest to merge sex and art.

You have to understand that Louise wasn’t ordering either of us around… and I wasn’t humiliated by the thought of being used and displayed, even though this particular work would never appear in a catalogue, a museum or her portfolio.

In fact, Louise loves to show me off to her friends – the ones who shared her sexual interests, of course. Until a few weeks ago she was underage, and we had to keep our relationship a secret.

She has pool parties so I can make an appearance in a skimpy swimsuit, one she insists makes me look “luscious.” Her friends might not be as impressed as Louise is, but I couldn’t care less. I’m beautiful in her eyes, and that’s all that concerns me.

Now my lover was deploying me for a new, more thrilling purpose, and what resistance I had was rapidly evaporating like morning mist on a summer’s day. I was to guide this exquisite girl – who had to be at least a year younger than my poor Larissa had been.

By then, I was certain that Chantel was willing to participate in Louise’s art project, but I also suspected she only had vague ideas about what to do. So it was up to me to bring this potential masterpiece to life.

I knelt down in front of the timid preteen, so we were eye to eye. For an instant, I wondered whether to tell the girl what I was about to do… but that would be like asking her permission, so I quickly dismissed that idea.

Cupping the girl’s lovely face, I drew her to me for a kiss. A long kiss, one I hoped would build in sensuality, perhaps even result in her lips parting to receive my tongue. It didn’t happen, but I wasn’t discouraged.

Still kissing her – mostly pressing our lips together, really – I put the tips of my finger and thumb to her nipple and gave it a delicate tweak. That got a shiver.

Chantel still didn’t open her mouth, but began to work her lips against mine.

Taking a chance, I parted my own lips to see what the little girl would do. When her tongue came out to play, she didn’t slip it into my mouth – just traced my lips, the top then the bottom. So far, so good, I told myself.

I was hardly an expert at lesbian seduction… in fact, I’d never enticed anyone into bed. With my daughter, it had been a response to her heartfelt desire, and that experience had been far more about love than sex. As for Louise and her mother Alex, those two simply swept me off my feet.

So this was the first time I would ever initiate something purely sexual with a novice. Naturally, I had to be mindful not to rush things and risk ruining the entire afternoon for all of us, possibly even frightening Chantel.

With our mouths still pressed together, I took my left hand away from Chantel’s face and trailed it down her back, drifting over the girl’s bare body until I was cupping her unimaginably soft bum cheek. I felt her stiffen slightly, but her lips and her tongue didn’t falter.

Clutching her bum, I lightly pulled her hips forward, towards me. That got a bigger reaction.

Chantel sighed into my mouth, and her tongue followed the sigh. Now we could really kiss.

It was important to let Chantel set the pace and she was still learning, but I touched my tongue to hers a few times, drawing her into the dance. Soon we were kissing like real lovers.

I was playing with the girl’s stiffening nipples while my right hand explored the contours and crevice of her bottom. She had both arms hanging limply at her sides, but after a moment Chantel became adventurous. Raising her hand, she hesitantly placed it on my breast.

She broke the kiss to ask, “Is this all right?”

I murmured, “Yes, it is,” and she kissed me again, now with a greater intensity.

I allowed my right hand to drift down, slowly gliding between her cheeks and lower, where I could get at her pussy from the rear. Carefully extending a finger, I trailed it through the girl’s slit, thrilled to realise how wet she was.

Chantel whimpered into my mouth and her knees buckled a little, then she thrust her bum out – as if she wanted to force her vagina onto my finger!

That didn’t happen, not quite – but it made me feel somewhat nervous. Was I expected to literally take this young girl’s virginity? I looked over Chantel’s shoulder to see Louise, camera in hand, recording the scene. She met my anxious gaze, smiled and mouthed the words, “It’s okay… keep going,” then went back to work.

Suddenly I wondered whether Louise had ever intended to perform with Chantel for these photos… or if it had been her intention to set me up with this underage girl from the very start. After a moment’s reflection, I decided it had to be the latter.

If I hadn’t been swapping passionate kisses with Chantel, I’d have shaken my head in awe at Louise’s ability to make me dance to her tune with a snap of the fingers.

Still, it occurred to me that Chantel might still have her hymen – and if so, I didn’t want to break it, even if she wanted me to. So I decided to pleasure her another way. Placing both hands on her hips, I guided her just a bit to the side. That enabled me to slip my left knee between her legs. Then I drew her slender body into mine until she was straddling my thigh.

Oh, God, Chantel’s slit was so warm and wet against my bare skin, and the scent of her… intoxicating! Then there was the ecstatic expression the girl wore as she began to grind herself forward and back, her breath growing ragged as she rode my leg.

Louise broke her silence. “Christ… that is so fucking hot! Keep doing that; it’s perfect! Oh, damn, I have to get my… just don’t stop, okay?”

She turned away for a moment, then turned back, clearly searching for something. Looking back at me, she insisted, “Don’t get her off, Karin, not yet! Don’t let her come.”

With a cry of triumph, Louise found what she was looking for. Dashing across the room, she seized another camera, one mounted on a tripod, then hastened behind my back to set it in place. I heard her fiddling with the setting, and wondered what she was up to.

Then Louise was back in view again. Now she was kneeling at Chantel’s back, her camera pointed directly at the place where the girl’s smooth vulva made contact with my thigh.

“Okay, that’s good,” Louise said, though I could detect a tremor in her voice. “Go for it! Chantel, you can come whenever you like.”

With her head on my shoulder, her lips brushing my neck, Chantel humped me faster. I felt her body tremble against me, the rasp of her breath hot in my ear… she was close to going off.

Suddenly a hard jerk raced through Chantel’s frame, she inhaled sharply… then a hoarse cry broke from the throat of my underage lover as she came.

She whimpered and shook, thrusting her sex against my leg, riding me without once breaking contact. I felt her hot juices trickle over my skin, as if she was marking me, claiming me.

And all the while, Louise was recording the entire lurid scene.

At last Chantel slumped against me, panting and sweating. “Oh… oh, fuck!” she gasped.

“Well, sort of,” Louise agreed. “But that’s just the first part. Now I want to take some pictures of you on your own.”

Somewhat frustrated that Chantel had been permitted to climax while I was left high and not at all dry, I watched as Louise led the girl to some of the props she had gathered for the occasion.

Unless Louise had plans to somehow involve me further in her game, I would have to sit by and watch. Upon reflection, I realised that in some ways, that was fine with me.

As appealing as it might be to have Chantel attend to my pleasure, I didn’t want to be a trial run for her to learn about making love to a woman. Much better to leave that to the two teenagers.

Me, I preferred to wait until that evening, when I would be brought to multiple orgasms by the nimble fingers and mouth of my darling Louise. For the moment, though, she was absorbed by leading Chantel through the next segment of the photo session. She had no idea just how hungry I would be for her in a few short hours. Just thinking about making my lover work overtime to get me off was enough to put a smile on my dial.

By that time, Louise had her underage model stretched out on the sofa, legs spread wide open.

“Okay, Chantel… It’s time to make yourself come. Do whatever you like, and I’ll be capturing it on film. Rub your pussy, play with your nipples, spread yourself for the camera, finger yourself! How does that sound? Want to fuck yourself? Take your cherry while we watch?”

God, I loved Louise’s dirty imagination. Was Chantel going to do any of those things? Or all of them? Was she still intact … at whatever age she was? I still had no idea.

Not that it mattered whether she still had her hymen or not. This girl was no longer truly innocent – not after she’d rubbed herself off against me.

I was suddenly curious about what Louise had been shooting on the second camera, the one she’d started up just before encouraging Chantel to come. I wandered over to the tripod, where she’d left it. The camera was still running, but there was nothing in its focus, so I switched off the automatic shutter control, then checked the memory.

The sight took my breath away. Louise had gone for a close-up of Chantel as she came. Every expression on her beautiful face, every instant of the young girl’s rapture had been captured… and preserved for eternity!

Hearing a soft cry, I looked across the room to where Louise was photographing Chantel, who was frigging herself, then back at the images of the child on the camera.

Viewed simultaneously, these images sent an almost violent wave of arousal through me. I slumped to the floor, both legs wide apart, and set about getting myself off. It took less than a minute.

Afterwards, we three climbed onto the huge sofa and snuggled up together. Chantel announced, “Wow, kissing that way is really nice… and you’re both soooo good at it.”

From there, it seemed completely natural for us to drift back into kissing, exploring all kinds of lovely games that the lips and tongue could play. In the midst of our fun, Chantel wanted to know how Louise and I had become lovers. We did make a rather unusual couple, after all.

Louise told more of our story than I’d expected. She didn’t say anything more about my daughter and me, but did end up admitting she’d been introduced to lesbian sex by her own mother Alex – and that they were still occasionally intimate.

Chantel was staggered by that particular reservation – thankfully, not offended. In fact, once the initial shock had dispersed, she was clearly intrigued by the idea, asking questions such as, “What’s it like, then – sex with your mum?” So Louise told her. Needless to say, she had a way of making incest seem as natural as the sunrise, and every bit as beautiful.

The talk was getting very randy – and so was our mood. Before long, we were getting hot and heavy again – and Chantel was enjoying her first threesome.

I got down on my knees and nuzzled a pathway between the girl’s legs, determined to get a real taste of her pussy. Burying my nose in the softness of those sparse blonde pubes, I plunged my tongue into her, rolling it around.

Chantel’s flavour was divine… even ambrosial! By then, I’d come to love the sweet, sharp tang of a young girl’s nectar, and our underage guest had plenty for me to enjoy.

An upward glance told me that Louise and Chantel were still swapping passionate kisses, but a moment later, Chantel got my attention in a big way when she asked my lover, “What Karin’s doing t-to me… er, can I try it on you?”

“Are you sure, sweetie?” Louise murmured. “Don’t feel you have to… pay us back or anything.”

Chantel was having a difficult time keeping her voice steady, but she managed to get out, “No, I – I want to learn everything.” She panted for a few breaths, then added. “All the, the things g-girls do together! Ohhhh…”

Louise smiled. “I guess you’re ready, then.” Quickly kneeling on the sofa, she straddled Chantel’s face, then lowered her hips, feeding her cunt to the girl.

As I went down on Chantel, I tried to imagine what it was like for her at that moment, giving her first oral to a firework like Louise, tasting that luscious pussy. I’d been in that position many’s the time, as Louise really enjoyed riding a lover’s mouth. She could get pretty intense with it, too – literally fucking your face when the mood took her.

I could hear Louise egging the girl on: “That’s it, Chantel, lick my cunt… ooohhh, m-make me come in your face. Mmmm, yes, yes, fuck me with that hot little mouth. Oh. OH!”

Louise was the only one of us who had yet to come, and I knew she had to be skating awfully close to the edge. Chantel was approaching her second orgasm, and I decided to ease up on her until she got Louise off. Then I’ll make her scream my name, I thought.

“S-suck my clit!” Louise blurted – and thirty seconds later, she was wailing like a banshee, twisting and tugging her nipples with both hands. Finally, spent and swaying from side to side, she dismounted Chantel’s face and collapsed in a shaking, sweaty heap at the end of the sofa. As for our lesbian novice, she was panting for breath and couldn’t speak, but the hunger I saw in her eyes told me she was ready

Now it was my time to shine. I started with long, deep licks that began near the anus and swept up to her clit, then I pressed her legs up and back, then thrust my tongue into the crack of her arse. “Fuck!” Chantel gasped, caught by surprise.

I rimmed her for a minute or so, then homed in on the girl’s clitoris, taking it between my lips. She came right away, her ragged cries of ecstasy music to my ears.

***

By the time Chantel’s mother returned, the photo session was finished. So was Chantel.

Alex brought Moira through to the studio, and after some banal chat, Louise said she had something to show from our session.

I panicked at the thought of what my lover might have decided was appropriate – from what I’d seen, there couldn’t have been very much.

Turned out I was wrong. Louise’s artistry is remarkable. She had several poster-sized pictures ready to present to Chantel and her mum.

One was of Chantel’s face, caught in the very instant of ecstasy. The picture had been carefully cropped and edited to ensure that nothing but the girl’s face was in the frame.

Another picture showed Chantel nude, perfectly replicating the pose that Louise had adopted in the photo-print Moira had purchased for her daughter’s birthday when we first met her. Of course, it had been signed by Louise.

On the border at the bottom, Louise had added a special message – To Chantel for her 13th birthday, with my congratulations, love and warmest wishes. Louise.

The third poster was smaller, a gift for Chantel’s mum. In it, her daughter was nude, sitting demurely. She had an arm across her chest, although one breast was partially visible. Her pubic hair could be seen, along with a hint of something that might have been either a shadow or the tip of her slit.

Moira was overjoyed to the point of shedding tears, thanking Louise and me again and again… and I wasn’t the only one who noticed the way she kept looking at the naked images of her child. I recalled how I’d wondered if Moira took a more than motherly interest in Chantel, and Louise gave me a very significant glance, as if to say, Very interesting.

As for Chantel, she had a glow about her that practically said “freshly fucked,” but her mum didn’t seem to notice. If she did, would Moira even be upset? I asked myself.

I noticed Louise whispering to Chantel, but couldn’t hear what she was saying. The girl nodded eagerly, and my curiosity was aroused. What were they planning?

***

Despite the sex Louise and I had already enjoyed, the sheer eroticism of our experience with Chantel all but guaranteed that we’d both be in severe need once Alex got us back to the apartment.

Once indoors, Louise and quickly I excused ourselves. I told Alex that Louise and I were tired and needed to rest before dinner. Of course, Louise had to tell her, “Mum, we need to fuck!” Alex’s laughter followed us up the stairs as we made our escape.

After a couple of lusty and unladylike romps in the sheets, Louise and I lay together quietly together, our lust slaked for the moment.

But Louise had a confession to make. “I always intended for you to be with Chantel – you know that, right?”

“Well, yeah – now I do.”

“I thought you might like to give a girl her first experience with a woman. I mean, I know you did that for your daughter, but that was different. That was about love, not sex, and you were helping her because she was sick and in need. I wanted you to have something like that again… but under happier circumstances.”

Uncertain about my feelings at that moment, but recognising the kindness underlying Louise’s gesture, I simply said, “Thank you.”

“You and Chantel were amazing together, too! I got some incredible footage. Know what else?”

With Louise it was never possible for me to ‘know what else’, and I told her as much.

“Well…” She spoke softly, as if unveiling a national secret. “You know all those photos that I took of you and Chantel? I’m going to make them into a new exhibition. Not all of them, of course – there’s a few hundred images, so it’ll only be the best ones. And of course I’ll crop them so they don’t reveal any faces.”

I’ll wager I went an unhealthy shade of grey right then, but Louise didn’t notice. “But that’s not the really big news!”

What more could there possibly be? I was too nervous to ask, so I let a helpless shrug ask for me.

“There’s more shots that I want, so Chantel’s coming to Aunt Deanna’s studio again on Saturday. She really wants to be with you again, Karin. And this time, I’ll get some really hot photos of you fucking each other.”

“For the exhibition?” I gasped, “You can’t… you wouldn’t be allowed to exhibit pictures like that! It would be  straight out child pornography!”

“Oh, those won’t be for the exhibition, silly! Chantel wants them for her private collection!”

There was an unusual squeaking sound, like a rusty gate opening – and it was coming from my throat. I’d never made a sound like that before.

“But I might put some of the purely sex pictures into a limited edition book that I can sell privately. You know, to ‘special’ art collectors. I might make a fortune – well, we might. You and me and Chantel. It’ll be a three-way split.”

The whole notion was insane, but when Louise began to rub my still-wet pussy, her insanity didn’t seem to matter so much.

“Sometimes I feel a bit guilty for fucking my friends, ‘cause you don’t have any lovers besides me and Mum. But now you’ll have Chantel… she’ll be your little piece on the side!”

Now Louise slipped a finger into me, and all good sense seemed to pack up and vacate my head. At that point, if my lover asked me to go down on Chantel on the gallery floor as part of her exhibit, my only questions would be, Which room?

“And did you notice the way Chantel’s mum looked at those pictures?” she continued, thrusting that finger in and out. “Oh, I know that look. That Moira woman has a major thing for her daughter! We’ve got to figure out some way to get her involved in this…”

Withdrawing from my cunt, Louise applied that finger to my needful clit as she continued her spiel: “Can you imagine it, seeing Chantel and her mum make love for the first time? God, that would be the hottest! Maybe we could start by asking Moira to pose for us while Chantel is there…?”

My lover continued to rub me to what I knew would be a mind-destroying orgasm, all the while drawing me deeper and deeper into another one of her crazy, forbidden, enticing schemes.

The End

Author’s note: I am, once again, grateful to Jetboy for applying his editing skills, for his suggestions and contributions, and for his amazing ability to make any additions fit in so seamlessly.

by Rachael Yukey

“Nettie, do you have anything to add?”

Every fiber of my being silently screamed no. The people occupying the circle of chairs in the big conference room swam in and out of my vision, transmogrified into bizarre little fat frog people, then snapped back into focus.

A handful of cops, a veritable horde of firefighters, and the crew of the rig that had transported the dump truck driver, one of whom was Terry Wilder. I’d spent the entire meeting avoiding his eyes.

The four meeting facilitators were seated together, wearing dark polos with Crisis Incident Stress Management logos on the left breast. Other than Terry and the facilitators, most of those present were people I’ve known for as long as I could remember.

Robbie Wachinsky and Jessie Kramer flanked me on either side. Had the three of us really made the mad dash to Johnstown only two days before, the wreckage of Jason Bixley laid out before us? It seemed like a lifetime.

I hadn’t slept since fleeing Terry’s house that morning. The day had passed in a hazy cloud of booze, with a soundtrack provided by a litany of heavy metal albums, mostly recorded before I was born. Around noon I’d taken a bath, whiskey bottle in hand and the bathroom door open so Judas Priest could filter through, Rob Halford calling out to me, warning that “In the dead of night, love bites.” You bet your ass it does. I’d masturbated to a joyless orgasm in the tub, not even trying to block out images of Halee, dissolving into tears as it subsided.

Returning to the living room naked and dripping, I’d checked my phone. There was a text message from Terry. He’s the only person I know that texts in full sentences.

It seems you must have remembered a VERY early appointment at the last minute. I would ask you if everything’s OK, but I guess I know better than that. I hope you’re still thinking about the debrief tonight. It really would help a lot of people out if you were there, and dare I suggest that it might not be so bad for you as well? Take care.

It had taken a few minutes for the subtext of it to seep into my exhausted, booze-addled brain. This was the last straw; Terry had been flaked on one too many times.

The tears came once more, this time with shocking force. My legs had buckled, and I’d huddled naked in a ball on the floor, shaken by great braying sobs that threatened to tear me apart.

Now there I was, seated amongst this circle of humanity, completely hollowed out. My head ached, I was still carrying a light buzz from the last-minute drink I’d tossed down just before leaving my apartment, and I was so exhausted it was almost impossible to think.

We’d been here for well over an hour, talking through the horrendous events of two days prior. The discussion flowed easily around the room as people shared their thoughts, feelings, and recollections. Grown men wept. Jessie, seated to my right, had been running the waterworks the entire time and seemed in no hurry to turn them off.

I contributed little, speaking only when spoken to. A nod here, a word of affirmation there. And now, the facilitator, who happened to be somebody I worked with on occasion at Thormleton, wanted to know if I had something to add.

Sure, I’ve got something to add, you fat fuck. I’ll add garlic and barbecue sauce to your nuts when I roast them over an open fire, how about that?

I straightened, ignoring the wave of pain, and forced a transformation. When I spoke, it wasn’t the drunk, tired bitch who’d spent most of the day drowning in a puddle of booze mixed with a generous dollop of her own tears. It was Antoinette Hastings, critical care paramedic, and I spoke in a voice both strong and authoritative. At least that’s what I tried for.

“If you’re asking for my clinical assessment,” I said, “we were presented with a hopeless case. He bled out before the extrication was completed. Probably before the rescue crews even made it to the scene.”

My eyes circled the room, making eye contact with each man or woman in turn. “I was very impressed with the extrication crew,” I went on. “I work all the time with bigger, better equipped services than this one, and I don’t think anybody could have gotten him out of there any faster. Especially considering that the car was on fire. You guys did a fantastic job.”

I paused, drawing in a deep breath. Every word seemed a tremendous undertaking.

“I guess that’s all I really want to say. The firefighters got the car cracked open as quick as it could have been done, and once we had him I doubt it even took forty-five seconds to get him into the rig. Robbie and Jessie did… hell, I’d go as far as to say a perfect job assisting me during the resuscitation effort.”

I looked to the right, my eyes falling upon Jessie. The girl looked as if she hadn’t slept in two days.

“You really did,” I said. “We lost a young man on Thursday, and nothing anybody can say will make that any easier. But everybody in this room did work they can be proud of trying to save him.”

I settled back, exhausted.

The meeting wrapped up, and people began trickling out of the room. Hands were shaken, hugs were shared. More tears were shed. Stuck in the epicenter, I did my best to be gracious. Almost everyone approached me before leaving the room, thanking me for coming with tears in their eyes, sometimes drawing me into a hug.

I felt husked out, incapable of emotion. Finally, I was able to leave. As I stepped through the conference room door and into the ambulance garage, I saw Terry Wilder standing next to one of the rigs, speaking with a small group of firemen. He shook their hands as they passed on. Jessie Kramer approached him hesitantly, and he swept her into a hug. She buried her face in his chest, her shoulders heaving. Terry said something to her that I couldn’t hear, squeezing her tightly in his arms.

He’s good at this, I thought. I wish to God I was.

I got my brain in gear, and my feet followed with alacrity. I strode towards the exit door. Terry caught my eye, and held up a finger. Damn it; what the hell does he want? I considered making a run for it, then decided I’d done enough of that for one weekend. Moving to the side, I leaned against the wall of the garage. The hangover was beginning to take shape, and it was going to be a bruiser.

Terry let Jessie go, shook the hand of a Sheriff’s deputy who was passing by, and beckoned me to follow him. We crossed to the other side of the garage, and Terry punched in the combination code that opened the door to the office.

It was a good-sized room, with walls of old cinderblock and office furniture that looked as if it hailed from the Woodstock era. The flatscreen monitor and the big, modern fax printer seemed out of place. Terry settled into one of the two old office chairs, and I took the other.

He fixed his gaze upon me in the harsh light of the office fluorescents, eyes widening. “Jesus, Nettie.”

“What?”

“How shall I put this? You look like hell.”

“You’re not exactly Brad Pitt yourself,” I said, trying to sound flippant. Even to my own ears, it came out flat and dull.

He peered at me intently. “First I thought you must have been crying, then I thought you must have been drinking, but my unparalleled powers of deduction are now suggesting that it’s both.”

“What do you care? We’re just fuck-buddies now, right?”

Terry’s face hardened. The chair creaked as he put all his weight against the back.

“Fine,” he said. “The reason I snagged you is that you forgot about the labs that were being faxed over from our call last night. I got to thinking about it around noon, strolled on over here to get a look, and lo and behold – there upon the fax machine lay the besainted object of your forgotten desires.”

He handed me a small stack of papers from the desk.

“Labs and tox screen both. I thought you might still want to see it. Besides, I’m kind of curious myself, and most of what’s in there might as well be pig latin to me.”

Leaning forward, I took the papers from him without a word, but in my mind humiliation and self-loathing chased one another across the neural pathways. You forgot about Jason Bixley’s labs and autopsy too, you idiot.

Terry seemed to be reading my mind.

“Did you get the Bixley info?” he asked.

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak, and forced my bleary eyes to focus on the lab reports in my hand. I could feel my eyes narrowing as I sifted through the sheaf of paper. My mind shifted to a higher gear, and the clouds faded a little.

“Something interesting?” Terry asked.

“A lot of things.”

I flipped from the labs to the tox screen, then back again. “How much of this kind of thing do you actually understand?”

“Just barely enough to be dangerous,” he said. “Didn’t you know EMTs are like monkeys? You can teach us to use tools to a limited extent, but expecting us to comprehend things? Dat just be crazy talk.”

“Then I’ll spare you the details,” I said. “The labs are… all over the place. Some stuff is elevated as hell, other stuff is a lot lower than it should be. The LFT… that’s liver function test… is particularly screwy. It’s what you’d expect from a fifty-year-old alcoholic, not a seventeen-year-old volleyball player. I sure hope there’s no long-term damage. The tox screen is negative, and there’s no way that can possibly be right. Sam Jensen was on something. The ED staff apparently thinks so too. There’s a note from Doctor Benson on the bottom that he’s going to talk to the state poison control center and see if they can get an answer.”

Terry sat forward and rubbed his chin with the palm of his hand. “So what does it all mean? Remember: monkey. Primitive tool usage, not deep understanding.”

“It means that wherever Sam was before she wandered home at 2 AM, they were messing around with something a standard tox screen won’t pick up on. We might be looking at something new.”

Skepticism was written all over Terry’s face. “You’re seriously going to tell me that there’s something floating around Franklin County that hasn’t already made its way through the major population centers? Perhaps my primitive monkey brain is preventing me from grasping the larger picture with ultimate clarity, however – oh, never mind. I call bullshit.”

I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. The last of the buzz had faded, and all that remained was the rotten throbbing in my temples.

“I’m not trying to tell you anything, Terry. I don’t have a single fucking clue what it is. I’ll call about Jason Bixley’s stuff tomorrow, I guess.”

“Nettie…” My eyes flew open at his tone. “I’m going to say it,” he said at last. “You need to get some help, or do something. You’re not well. This is not a new problem; I’ve seen you sleeping. It was worse than I let on Thursday night, and it’s hardly the first time.”

“Just… just stop.” I got up, and a wave of nausea assailed me. I stood still for a moment while it passed, leaving a vague queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I turned to leave, but Terry was by my side, a gentle but firm hand on my arm.

“Hear me out, Nettie,” he said. “You owe me that much. This isn’t the first time I’ve had cause to worry about you, but it is the scariest thing I’ve seen so far. Forgetting to follow up on a patient of interest isn’t like you at all – as in I can’t believe it’s actually happening. How far does this go before you’re not even capable of doing your damn job anymore?”

I looked away. “Leave it alone, Terry. I’m fine, it’s just… I’m fine.”

My stomach heaved. Knowing that I’d never make the bathrooms, I fumbled the door open and ran for the big garbage cans at the far end of the garage. Somewhere in the back of my mind it registered that the place had emptied of people during the few minutes we’d spent in the office. Thank god for small favors.

I batted a lid aside, and leaned over the can. My hair fell forward, and I felt it being pulled back a split second before the contents of my ill-used stomach came up in a hot, loose rush. I vomited for what felt like forever, until nothing was left but wretched, aching dry heaves. I was crying again, weary tears falling straight into the can to mingle with the smelly mess inside.

I straightened, casting a glance over my shoulder. It was Terry holding my hair back; of course it was. Now he was guiding me towards the worktable near the exit door, taking some tissues from a nearby Kleenex box, and gently wiping my eyes and mouth. He tried to draw me into an embrace. I almost surrendered to it, I wanted to, but instead I placed my hands on his chest, holding him at bay.

“I have to go.” It came out as a strangled whisper.

“Bullshit,” he said. “Come back to my place. We’ll set you up in the guest bedroom if that’s how you want to do it, but the last thing you need is to go home alone right now.”

I wavered, and nearly succumbed. His long, slim hands gripped my upper arms. It would be so easy to let those hands pull me close, to collapse into his embrace. But what would become of me then?

I screwed up the last vestiges of my resolve. “No, Terry,” I said. The tears were flowing freely. I realized this was the first time he’d ever seen me cry, and the shame ran deep. “I’ll — I’ll see you on the ambulance.”

A cold, steady drizzle had set in during the debriefing. Pulling the hood of my sweatshirt up, I set off.

“Did you walk, Nettie? At least let me give you a ride,” Terry’s voice called out from behind me. I kept on moving. Looking over my shoulder from two blocks away, I could see him still standing under the eaves of the ancient building, his hands shoved into the pockets of his reflective coat, watching me go. Resolutely facing forward again, I forced myself to pick up the pace.

***

I stumbled into the lobby of my apartment building, fumbling in my jeans for the keys. Looking up, I started at the sight of a figure leaning against my door, arms folded across her chest.

“Halee,” I said. “What…” My voice caught in my throat. Halee was the pinnacle of gorgeous young gothiness in a knee-length black denim skirt, ankle boots, and a leather jacket. Just a touch of dark coloration adorned her lips, and I wondered if she’d dare to wear that lipstick in her dad’s presence. She peeled herself languorously off the doorjamb and took a step towards me. Then she stopped, her eyebrows nearly disappearing into her hairline.

“You look awful,” she observed.

I got my keys out of my pocket, awkwardly separated out the one to my apartment and shoved it into the lock. “What are you doing here?” I got out, ushering her ahead of me into the entryway.

“I had to see you,” she said. “I was kind of a bitch this morning, and I didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

“Forget about it,” I said, dropping to the couch like a rag doll. I rested my aching head on a throw pillow and closed my eyes. “Halee, does your father know you’re here?”

She scoffed. “God, no. I told him I was going to a friend’s house.” She was standing over me, concern written all over her face. “Nettie, you look sick. Is there any way I can help?”

I stared up at her. Halee had always struck me as being about five years older than she really was, but never so much as right now. I reached up, caught hold of a hand, and squeezed.

“I just need to down a big glass of water and sleep,” I told her. “That’s all. I’ll be okay by morning.”

“Then come on,” she said, tugging at my hand. “Let’s get you to bed, and I’ll bring some water.”

I let Halee pull me to my feet, groaning as a wave of pain washed over me. Halee was casting her eyes around the room, trying to figure out what was where, and it dawned on me that she’d never been in my apartment before.

I gently pulled my hand away. “I can find my own way to bed,” I assured her. “I have to use the bathroom, anyway.”

“Then I’ll bring you something to drink,” she insisted. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“End of the hall,” I informed her as I hauled my tired ass towards the bathroom. Even tired and hungover, the idea of Halee entering my bedroom made my stomach tighten.

I peed, cleaned up a little, and with a final effort of will, got my teeth brushed. When I made it to the bedroom, Halee had just placed a steaming mug on the nightstand.

“I found teabags and some honey,” she said. “I thought if you’re not feeling good, maybe this would go down better. Where do you keep your pajamas?”

I groaned. I didn’t give a wretched rat’s ass about pajamas at that particular moment in time. “Who needs ‘em?” I said.

She looked me up and down. “What, you’re going to sleep in your jeans and sweatshirt?”

I sat down heavily on the bed. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” I mumbled, lifting the steaming hot mug to my lips. Halee was right; the hot, honey-sweet beverage soothed both my mouth and my stomach.

“C’mon, where?”

I gestured towards the dresser. “Middle drawer. But I don’t need a mommy to dress me.”

Halee crossed the room, opened the drawer in question, and selected a fuzzy blue top-and-bottom set. She smiled a little as she returned to the bed. “I kind of like the idea of being your mommy,” she said primly. I gaped at her.

“Here, put ‘em on,” she said.

“You gonna just stand there while I undress?” I replied.

“Yup.”

I pulled the hoodie over my head, followed by my t-shirt. Halee’s eyes were fixated on my chest, and I debated about the bra for a moment. Of course I wasn’t going to sleep in it, but it might be… well… safer to not take it off in front of her. The only problem with that was I liked the way she was looking at me. Fucked up as I was, I was still getting turned on by her scrutiny.

I reached behind my back and slowly, deliberately, unclasped the bra, pulled it free of my chest and tossed it to the floor. Halee’s lips were parted, just a little. Her eyes looked a little glassy.

“Like what you see?” I taunted in a low voice.

“Yeah.” It came out as a croak. I tugged the pajama shirt over my head and down. It’s one of my favorites, soft and comfortable. Then I stood, unzipped, and pushed my jeans to the floor. Stepping out of them and kicking them away, I reached for the pajama bottoms. I took a little longer than I needed getting into them, but not too long. There was something incredibly erotic about all this, but I really was at the end of my endurance.

I sat on the bed again, this time positioning a couple of pillows so I could prop myself into a sitting position against the headboard. Lifting the mug, I took another sip of tea.

“Thanks, Halee,” I said, meaning it. “I think I’m just going to read for awhile while I drink this, then sleep. You should get home before your dad decides to check up on you. And I’m sorry about the way things went this morning. I really am.”

“Can we talk about it sometime?” Her voice broke as she said it. Her eyes were desperate, pleading.

“Soon,” I promised her. I knew it was a bad idea, something that could lead us down all the wrong roads, but I was just too tired, too fucking beat to care. “Halee?”

“Yeah?”

“I need something to keep me awake while I drink this. There’s a book on the big shelf in my living room called Mechanical Ventilation. Could you bring it to me?”

Halee left without a word, returning moments later with a large hardcover book that’s nothing less than the bible on management of a ventilated patient. Handing it to me, she made a face. “This is your idea of a relaxing bedtime story?”

I smiled. “It’ll force me to stay awake while I get hydrated.”

“Okay.” She leaned over and kissed my forehead. Weary though I was, hurting though I was, dehydrated though I was, I had to fight the urge to meet her lips with mine.

“Thanks, Halee,” I said again. She smiled shyly at me and slipped out the door.

***

“Don’t be afraid to dig into the rib cage and find those spaces,” I said to the head full of fiery red hair. “When you’re working with me, putting the twelve-lead on will mostly be your job, and if you don’t get the ECG electrodes placed correctly I won’t be able to trust anything the monitor is telling me.”

Dana Fraser didn’t look up. She merely nodded and pushed down harder with her fingertips.

“Sure,” said the shirtless young man lying on the cot in the conference room. “It’s easy to say that when it’s not your chest she’s poking.”

“Sorry,” Dana said in a plaintive tone.

Darren Tanner grinned. “No problem. I’m just giving your boss-lady there a hard time. Do what you gotta do.”

It was Dana’s first day at Thormleton Ambulance, and I was making a valiant effort to curb my annoyance. My problem wasn’t with her; she was eager to learn and an apt enough pupil. But dammit, new EMT hires were supposed to spend about two weeks training and going on calls with an experienced team before they were sent out as half of a two-person crew.

That’s how it worked in theory, but we’re short personnel as is, and two crew members had called in sick. We had to just stick Dana on a truck and hope for the best. It’s not as bad as it sounds; an EMT on an Advanced Life Support crew acts mostly as driver and assistant to the paramedic. Of course, I’m the clinical director at Thormleton, which puts me in charge of training. So guess who got stuck with the newbie?

Dana straightened, turning to glance up at me. Roughly 102,324 freckles, by my calculation. I inspected the placement of the electrodes, wishing this was something that was taught in EMT school.

“Looks good,” I said, turning my eyes to the monitor and inspecting the readout. “Now pull a snapshot.”

Dana pressed a button on the monitor, then paused for a moment when a prompt came up.

“How old are you?” she said, looking down at her ‘patient’.

“Twenty-six,” said Darren, looking amused. “You might wanna watch how you phrase that question when it’s a little old lady you’re doing this to.”

Dana smiled, punched in the information, and then sat back. A long strip of paper issued from the top of the machine, which she tore off and handed to me.

“I have no idea what it means,” she admitted.

“Me, either,” Darren assured her. “I’ve been doing this long enough that I know what normal looks like, but I can’t look at a twelve-lead and tell you what’s up with somebody’s heart.”

“Are you going to get your medic?” Dana asked him.

“Nope. I’m starting nursing school this fall.”

Noticing the way they were looking at each other, I suppressed a smile.

“It’s not your job to know how to read it,” I told Dana. “So long as you can properly place the electrodes and get me a snapshot, I’m happy. It’s harder with a female patient, by the way. I’ll have you put one on me later if you’re comfortable with that.”

Dana fixed me with an appraising sidelong look. She’s checking me out, I realized. I’ve been bi long enough to be able to read the signs. Yeah, she’s obviously attracted to Darren, but I’ll bet my next paycheck she works both sides of the street.

“Okay,” she said after a long pause.

“You done with me?” asked Darren. I nodded. He sat up, swung his legs off of the cot, and began ripping the electrodes from his chest, wincing a little with each one.

“At least chicks don’t have to worry about their chest hair getting pulled out,” he muttered.

“If you think that, you’ve never put a twelve-lead on Barfing Bonnie,” I said with a snort of laughter.

Dana seemed to be mulling something over. “Is medic school very hard?” she asked.

“Depends,” I said. “I took a certificate course that runs thirteen months, and it’s a hell of a lot of information packed into that timeframe. It wasn’t too bad for me, but I was eighteen and still living with my mom. Some of the others had kids and full-time jobs.”

Dana’s eyes widened. “You went to medic school when you were eighteen? You must have just got your EMT.”

I settled into a chair. “Pretty close, yeah. I was rolling with the volunteer service in Bronning and working part-time here. It wasn’t too bad. Critical care school wasn’t as long, but it was a lot harder.”

“When did you do that?”

“About six months after I got my medic.”

“Jeez,” said the young woman, clearly impressed. “I was wondering how you got to be the clinical director so young – oh, I’m sorry.” She put her hand over her mouth, and the blush on her pale, freckled face was truly spectacular. “That didn’t come out quite right.”

I laughed. “It’s okay.”

Darren, who was pulling his shirt back on, favored Dana with an endearing lopsided grin. “That’s the least of the things we wonder about her.”

Dana smiled back at him. Good Lord, I thought. Stop undressing each other with your eyes and get a room already.

“I kind of got the job by accident,” I said. “When Amy Perkins retired, I was the only critical care medic left in this dump. A lot of the transfers we do technically fall under the category of critical care, and the owners like to have someone with that certification in charge of training. So they made me clinical director.”

“So regular medics are allowed to do critical transfers?”

“In this state, yes,” I told her. “It depends on where you’re at. We have a low population density, along with a lot of rural hospitals that aren’t very capable. So a lot of stuff gets transferred out to bigger facilities. They fly out most of the really severe cases, but if flight no-gos because of weather or whatever, they send it by ground. Other places like the coasts, you don’t have that kind of situation, so the rules are stricter. In some states you have to have a critical care certification to take a vented patient, or someone on an infusion of blood products.”

The radio squawked, and I held up a finger.

“Franklin County to Bronning Ambulance, please respond to 13242 State Highway 225 for a twenty-year-old male with an altered level of consciousness, your time is 1333.”

Darren swatted me on the shoulder. “Hey, there’s your Bronning people going out,” he said.

“Yep,” I said, getting to my feet. “And that part of 225 is in our intercept zone, so if they need ALS they’ll be calling us.” I beckoned towards Dana. “You and I are up for the next call, so let’s get the monitor wrapped up and back in the truck.”

Dana began coiling the ECG cables, her face flushed with excitement.

“Bronning Ambulance, Franklin.” Jessie Kramer’s voice on the radio. At least she’s getting back in the saddle.

“Go ahead, Bronning.”

“You can show us en route.”

Darren’s eyebrows shot up. “They’re not usually that fast.”

“Jessie lives a block from the station,” I said. “I don’t know who her partner is today, but we have a couple of other people who are almost that close.”

Darren rolled his eyes. “It’s Bronning,” he said. “Everyone is almost that close.”

“Do you think they’ll need us?” Dana sounded breathless with excitement.

“Hard to say,” I said. “If it’s something simple like hypoglycemia, they can probably handle it themselves. If it’s a stroke, an overdose, or they just don’t know, they’ll yell for help.”

“Aren’t they ALS sometimes?”

“Only when I’m around.”

Dana picked up the monitor, and the three of us headed out to the garage. Three orange-on-white ambulances were parked in the bay. As we approached the one against the far wall, a familiar male voice burst forth from the overhead speakers. I winced; the radio feed is ridiculously loud in there.

“Bronning Ambulance to Franklin – on scene.”

Dale cocked an eyebrow. “That’s Terry Wilder, right?”

I nodded, keeping my face impassive. I made sure my frighteningly inexperienced partner had the monitor plugged in, then headed back into the quarters area. I was just coming out of the bathroom when I heard Terry’s voice again.

“Bronning Ambulance, Franklin. We need to get an intercept coming from Thormleton.”

By the time dispatch paged us, Thormelton Ambulance number 3520 was already easing out of the garage and onto the apron. I was behind the wheel, with Dana Fraser in the shotgun seat, opening a new incident in the computer. Ordinarily the EMT on an ALS crew would drive to the call, but we were going to be running lights and sirens, and thus far Dana had spent all of two hours in orientation learning to handle an ambulance. The flashing lights came on; the siren sounded. The big door trundled closed as the ambulance pulled out into the street.

We’d just turned onto the highway when we heard Jessie Kramer announce over the radio that Bronning Ambulance was clear of the scene and transporting to Pinewood. That meant Terry was in the back, which was probably for the best.

As we barreled up the road at just under eighty miles an hour, the howling siren sending other vehicles scattering for the gravel shoulders, I gave my rookie partner a rapid-fire rundown on the ins and outs of running emergent. After about ten minutes, I switched the radio over to the private channel dispatch had assigned to the call.

“Thormleton 3520 to Bronning Ambulance on FC2.”

“Go for Bronning,” said Jessie.

“I’d like a patient update when you get a chance.”

“Thormleton, stand by,” Terry’s voice broke in. It was a little over a minute before he spoke again.

“Thormleton, this is Bronning. The patient is experiencing periods of alertness accompanied by convulsions alternating with a semi-comatose state. At no time is the patient oriented or responding appropriately to questions. Pupils are pinpoint. Patient is tachycardic with a pulse of one thirty-six, and hypotensive with a pressure of seventy-four over forty-six. I have a pulse ox of ninety-five percent on room air, blood sugar is ninety-six. I have an eighteen-gauge IV with saline lock established in the left forearm.”

Uh-oh. “Copy that,” I said. “What’s your twenty?”

Jessie’s voice. “About two miles outside of Radcliff.”

“So are we. Pull into the Amoco station and we’ll meet you there.” I hung up the mic. “Okay,” I said to my partner. “when we pull in, I’m going to grab a pump and the narcs out of the back. You get the ALS bag – it’s the big green one – and follow me. The Bronning truck carries a lot of the same supplies, but we mostly use our own stuff on intercepts. I probably won’t have you do much because there hasn’t been time to train you on anything, but no big deal. Terry Wilder’s there, and he’s got his shit together.”

The ambulance slowed. Hauling the wheel over, I killed the siren as we pulled smoothly into the parking lot of the Amoco gas station on the edge of Radcliffe. I got out, turning my face up to the sunshine. Finally, a nice day.

Rounding the front of the rig and ducking into the box through the side door, I extracted an infusion pump from a rack of five that was clamped to a rail, then got the narcotics out of the safe. As I hurried back out I caught the wail of an approaching siren, which cut off a moment later as the Bronning rig pulled into the lot.

I entered through the side door, Dana right behind me with the ALS bag. The overweight young man on the cot was lying on his left side and convulsing. No, that’s not quite right; Terry was holding him on his side, his left hand on the meaty shoulder to prevent the large body from flopping back like an eel, his right attempting to capture a stream of vomit in an emesis bag with only partial success.

I moved quickly, getting behind the patient’s head and leaning in to help support his writhing bulk. I glanced down at Dana, who was more or less stuck on the first step for the moment. She was staring at the mess, wide-eyed.

“I think he’s done puking,” said Terry.

“Okay, I need your seat.”

I stuffed myself into the space alongside the rear-facing chair, enough room for Terry to squeeze by. He parked himself in the jump seat next to the monitor, and I took his former place on the bench seat.

“Get up here,” I instructed Dana. “Help Terry get this guy propped up on his side.”

Dana moved to where I’d been standing by the rear-facing chair, and the two of them stuffed some pillows behind the fat kid to keep him from flopping onto his back. I sized him up at a glance. Three days stubble, oily brown hair, dirty jeans and a t-shirt. Probably weighed two-eighty or so.

Extracting supplies from the narc box, I glanced at Dana. “What I’m drawing up right now,” I said, “is called Versed. It’s a sedative in the same drug class as Valium, and one of our favorite things to do with it is make seizures go away. Terry, this is Dana.”

“Hi, Dana,” said Terry, flashing that damned grin of his that always seems to make ladies’ limbs loosen a little.

I pushed the Versed, drawing up another med as the convulsions slowed.

“This is Zofran,” I said, “and it’s for the nausea. You’re going to want to start learning this stuff, because all the medics you work with will expect you to get things for them.”

After pushing the drug I inspected the monitor, then pored over the ECG printout Terry had left on the seat for me.

“Okay, Dana,” I said. “You can go on back to our truck and follow us to Pinewood, but we’re going to be running hot so do not try to keep up. Just go routine and we’ll see you there.”

Dana nodded. “Nice to meet you,” she said to Terry as she left.

“We can go, Jessie,” I called out. “Run emergent, please.”

The siren sounded, and the ambulance pulled out. Terry caught my eye.

“This looks just a tad bit familiar,” he observed.

“Yeah,” I said. I rummaged in the green bag that Dana had left on the rear-facing seat.

“You want me to get the patches out in case you have to zap this guy?” Terry asked.

“Nope,” I said. “because this time I’ve got my work bag, and I have some stuff in here that’ll boost his blood pressure without messing with his heart rate. He’s tachy, but not so much that I’m going to fuck with it unless it gets worse.”

I tossed a fluid bag at him. “Do me a favor and spike this, but don’t use one of the usual drip sets; use this.” I gestured towards a line I’d taken from the green bag; one designed to be used with a pump.

By the time I’d drawn up the medication, Terry had a bag spiked and ready to go. I hooked it to the pump, squirted the med into the fluid bag, and set the pump’s infusion rate.

“Give it a few minutes, then get another pressure,” I said.

Terry hung the bag from the collapsible pole on the side of the cot. “What is this stuff?”

“Levophed. It’s kind of like Epi, but more specific as to which receptors it acts on. It constricts the vasculature, but it won’t speed up his heart like Epi will.”

“Neato. Anything else you wanna do with this guy?”

“If this gets his blood pressure out of the ditch, I’m gonna call it good.”

Terry pressed the blood pressure button on the monitor. The cuff on the right arm began to inflate.

“This looks suspiciously like what we saw a couple of nights ago,” he observed. “How much you wanna bet we also get a negative tox screen?”

“Yeah,” I said, “and I found out more just yesterday. Sam Jensen’s samples got sent down to a toxicology center in the twin cities for more detailed analysis. They found some kind of weird stuff in her blood that the tox screen didn’t catch, and they can’t identify.”

“No shit?”

“No shit, but there’s more. I got Jason Bixley’s autopsy information this morning. He had the same crap in him. I’m guessing he was cruising back home, high as fuck, and then one of these seizures hit.”

Terry leaned back, a thoughtful look on his lean face. “Interesting. You might have told me.”

“I meant to text you this morning, but I got stuck with a trainee.” The blood pressure came up on the monitor. 102/76; I’d take it. I forced my muscles to relax.

“By trainee, you mean that frail slip of a girl following us in? She’s cute, in a… freckly sort of way.”

I snorted. “Forget it, cowboy. She’s got big eyes for Darren Tanner. If they’re not screwing by Friday, I’ll eat my duty boots. Hey, you’re right by the radio; wanna call this in? Tell the hospital he’s had five milligrams of Versed, four of Zofran, and I’ve got him on a Levophed drip currently at ten mics per minute, which I am now titrating down to four.”

Terry reached for the mic.

***

The four of us stood in the ambulance garage at Pinewood Memorial Hospital in Johnstown. Dana had helped Jessie clean up the Bronning rig, and the two women appeared to have hit it right off. I was addressing my trainee.

“When the first thing you see on your first call is puke, it’s a sign that you’re destined to be an EMS lifer. Didn’t they tell you that in EMT school?” I said.

“Tis an omen sent down from the gods themselves,” Terry agreed.

Dana snickered, then changed the subject. “Do we know what was wrong with him?” she asked. I met Terry’s eyes. I saw no reason not to relate the weird chain of events to the two younger women, but some odd impulse held me back.

“No clue,” I said. “Narcotic of some kind, but damned if I know what. Anyway… Terry, Jessie, nicely done. I’m going to take my protege here back to the station and try to teach her a few more things.”

“Teach her well,” Terry agreed. “After all, we’ve just established that she’s going to be in this line of work for the next thirty years or so. We need to head north and get this rig back in service, anyway. Pleasure to meet you, Dana.”

As I settled into the passenger’s seat, I drummed my fingers on my thigh, furrowing my brow as I compared what I’d just seen to Sam Jensen’s presentation the previous weekend. What the hell?

On to Chapter Six!

by C. Cat

When Katie and Rayne returned to their room after that day’s breakfast, Rayne squealed with delight at what she saw waiting for them.

“It’s here!” she cried, pointing to a box on their bed that could only be Katie’s very own fairy outfit, complete with wings. “You have to try it on!”

Even though the new term hadn’t yet started, Katie spent as much time as she possibly could at Fairy House with Rayne and the other girls. She absolutely adored her new sisters and couldn’t possibly feel more welcome, but also knew she couldn’t think of herself as a real fairy until she had her wings. Then she could join the others when they entertained the women and little girls who visited Latchmore.

That day had finally arrived. All but tearing off the top of the box, an awed Katie stared at its contents. Then she began to wriggle out of her top.

“Oy! That’s my job!” Rayne protested, hastening to assist.

Fifteen minutes later, she was cooing with delight at the view of her best friend and lover, proudly posing in her new things. It took longer for Katie to get dressed than it might have done; once she was naked, Rayne simply had to get undressed herself, and a few passionate kisses threatened to turn into a torrid morning fuck. Somehow the girls managed to restrain their appetites, promising to “set the sheets on fire” later that night, following Katie’s debut as a Latchmore Fairy.

***

Since chance sightings of fairies were part and parcel of the Latchmore experience, the ability to move about the grounds without being seen was a crucial skill for the girls. During the previous week, Rayne had taught Katie all the paths, snickets and shortcuts, along with secret passages and hideaways that would let her keep an eye on the guests and decide exactly when and where to appear. There were also a few especially private hiding places where willing ladies and girls could be spirited away for special games, the kind best played without clothing.

Katie was a quick learner and, now that she had her outfit, could join Rayne for her first outing. The two left Fairy House and cut across the maze of paths in the butterfly meadow to the main trail that led through the enchanted woods.

For a couple hours the two played their own version of hide-and-seek where they would let themselves be seen by one of the pretty young guests before disappearing again. The girl and her mother would often try to follow, but when they made it to the spot where the fairies had been, all they would find was a little present wrapped in a leaf with a pink bow.

The two were thinking about heading back for lunch, when Rayne spotted a mother and her little girl, walking hand in hand down a nearby path. Turning to Katie, she nodded in their direction, grinning eagerly. Should we?

Katie instantly saw what had attracted Rayne’s attention. The little girl was cute as could be in a very short pink dress with a tiny skirt that showed off her slender legs and barely covered her panties. All the satin and frills were adorable, all done in pink – her sandals, the bow that held her long blonde hair back in a ponytail, even her toenails! It wasn’t unusual for girls to dress up for a day at the gardens, but this young nymph was positively sexy. Did her mum dress her like that on purpose? Katie wondered.

Actually, the girl’s mother looked scrumptious as well in a miniskirt and low-cut blouse that showed off her long athletic legs and a delectable amount of cleavage. The look would have been ideal for a summer date, but it was a long way from the loose tops and yoga pants many of the mothers wore to the garden.

As they got closer, Katie also noticed how the woman and the girl looked at each other. Something in those adoring glances spoke of more than just the love of mother and child. At one point, the little girl brought Mummy’s hand to her lips, gazing into the woman’s eyes as she tenderly kissed it.

Katie turned to Rayne. “Do you think…?” she began.

Before she could get the words out, the woman guided her daughter into a little alcove, then went down on one knee before the child. Katie’s view was partially blocked, but she could see enough to know that this wasn’t the way most mothers kissed their little girls.

Flashing Katie a big smile, Rayne pointed down the pathway. She clearly had some kind of plan.

A moment later the two of them were in position on the trail, holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes. They pretended not to notice when mother and daughter came around the bend. Waiting for a moment to be sure they’d been seen, Katie and Rayne came together for a long, deep kiss.

When the girls ‘noticed’ they were being watched, they broke apart, cried, “Oh!” in mock surprise, then quickly scampered around the bend and away.

“Don’t go!” the child pleaded. “We’re friends!”

“They’re gone, angel,” the mother said, a tinge of disappointment in her voice. “Maybe we’ll run into them again.”

“Look, Mummy! Fairy dust!” The little girl exclaimed when she reached the spot where the girls had kissed.

Her mother noticed the little pile of fine glitter, then there were shiny flakes of the stuff scattered down the trail as well. “Here’s more of it, Brooke,” she said, pointing down the trail. “Do you think the fairies might want us to follow them?”

“Yes!” the girl squealed, clapping her hands. “C’mon, Mummy – let’s go!”

The mother was as eager as Brooke to see these fairies, so they followed the trail of fairy dust and the occasional sound of laughing and singing. They were so intent on the search, they didn’t notice themselves straying off the official path, past a conveniently open gate, and down into a little glen with a stream running through the middle. Next to a little waterfall was a tiny thatched-roof building – could that be where the fairies had got to?

The glittery trail led to a small grassy area with a bench and little stools shaped like mushrooms. “Let’s sit down here and see if the fairies come out,” the girl’s mother whispered.

Little Brooke could barely sit still, jumping every time she heard a rustling in the woods. Finally, though, she spotted movement on the path. “Over there!” she yelped.

Rayne and Katie froze and looked like they were about to flee into the forest.

“Please don’t go, fairies!” Brooke called to them, both hands clasped together. “We just want to talk to you!”

Cautiously the two advanced up the path, pretending they were still deciding whether it was safe.

“I’m Brooke,” the little one said, “an’ this is my mum. Come play with us, pretty please?”

The fairies drew a bit closer, and one spoke. “I’m Rayne… and this is Katie. You and…” She looked at the woman.

“Rachel,” the girl’s mother said.

“…you and Rachel were following us. You weren’t sent by the witch, were you?”

“No!” Brooke exclaimed, “We love fairies, an’ we hate bad old witches! We’d never hurt you.”

Katie turned to Rayne, “No one would dare lie to a fairy… and after all, the witch doesn’t like pretty little girls any more than she does us.” Briefly studying the two visitors, she finally said. “I think… yes, I think we can trust them.”

“Oh, you can!” Brooke said, more excited than ever. “Cross my heart an’ hope to die!”

The two fairies broke into big smiles, their fears clearly forgotten. Katie knelt down in front of the child and took her hand. “Welcome to the enchanted forest, Brooke. Are you and your mum having fun?”

“Lots of fun!” the little girl exclaimed, “It’s soooo pretty here! There are flowers, an’ butterflies… I even saw a turtle!”

“My, that is a lot. What was your favourite thing you saw? Was it old Mr. Turtle?”

The girl squirmed where she sat, suddenly shy, but she remembered how important it was to always be truthful to a fairy. “No… I, um… I liked seeing you kiss most of all.”

“Oh, I liked it too. Rayne is a very good kisser. Do you think about kissing girls a lot?”

Brooke glanced up at her mother, not sure if she should answer. She’d been told to never tell anyone about the special, secret kissing she and Mummy did… but she also didn’t want to lie to this nice fairy.

As for Rachel, she was feeling a little nervous. She hadn’t done anything more than share passionate kisses with her daughter, but it was becoming clear that Brooke wanted more than that. Somehow, she’d managed to resist her lustful urges and be a proper mother, but knew deep inside she wouldn’t be able to keep that up much longer. She was masturbating obsessively to fantasies of undressing her little girl, fondling her babyish body, of probing the child’s virgin holes with fingers and tongue… then teaching Brooke to love her the same way.

A lesbian friend who knew of Rachel’s secret desires had steered her toward Latchmore House. “Trust me… take Brooke there,” she’d said. “You just might find what you’re looking for. Maybe Brooke will, too.” Her friend would give no further explanation, just wrote the address down on a piece of scratch paper and departed with a blown kiss.

Now Rachel and her six-year-old were seated side by side in a quiet nook of the Latchmore garden with two beautiful young girls in deliciously skimpy fairy costumes… girls who seemed to be especially interested in kissing.

Rachel suspected this might be a golden opportunity to satisfy her craving, but knew there would be no going back if she gave in. In the end, though, the fierce need she had for Brooke overcame her fear. She gave her daughter a slight nod. “You can answer her question, love.”

“Okay,” Brooke replied, then turned back to Katie, giving the scantily-clad angel a bashful smile. “I do like to think about kissing girls… but I like getting kisses even more!” She giggled, leaning against her mother.

“Do you like little kisses like this?” Katie turned to Rayne, who gave her a gentle peck on the lips, “Or perhaps big, juicy ones like this…?”

The two fairies came together, and Brooke and her mother watched the young lovers melt into a heated, ardent kiss that involved considerable tongue play.

“I like big kisses!” Brooke said, all but bouncing up and down with excitement.

“What about you, Brooke’s mummy?” Rayne said as she sat down on Rachel’s lap, making sure to adjust her skirt so her bare bottom was against the woman’s thighs. “Do you like kissing girls, too?”

“I… I do, yes,” Rachel said, flustered and nervously glancing about, afraid someone might see her in such a compromising situation. It hadn’t escaped her attention that the girl in her lap wasn’t wearing knickers.

“It’s okay. No one will bother us here,” Rayne purred, moving to claim Rachel’s lips with hers.

As an awed Brooke watched her mother succumb to the fairy’s kiss, Katie reached up to trail two fingers down the girl’s cheek. Brooke turned to her, eyes wide with wonder when Katie leaned in to steal a kiss of her own. The child gave a blissful sigh, their mouths drifted together again, and the kiss deepened.

Mother and daughter continued to hold hands as they enjoyed themselves with the beautiful young fairies.

“That makes me all tingly inside!” Brooke exclaimed when the two separated.

“Hmmm… it reminds me of the story of Ellette’s kiss!” Katie said, with a wink for Rayne, “Would you like to hear it?”

“Oh, yes!” Brooke said.

“I don’t know,” Rayne added looking up at Rachel, “I’m sure that Brooke is a big girl… but is it okay if the story is a little naughty?”

“Please, Mommy?” Brooke begged, looking irresistible with her big dark eyes.

Rachel smiled. “I think we’d both love to hear it,” she said, giving her daughter’s hand a squeeze.

***

Once a Latchmore Fairy reaches a certain age, she is expected to be well versed in the art of storytelling. The House had an impressive collection of stories to draw from, compiled from around the world, and the fairies would select and learn their favourites to share with the women and girls who came to visit.

Most of these were innocent tales meant to amuse and awe children, but there was another, secret batch of stories, erotic in nature, that were only to be shared with special guests. Katie had fallen in love with the Legend of Ellette’s kiss. She quickly memorised it with the help of Rayne, who also helped her practise telling the tale.

Now, on her very first day as a Latchmore Fairy, Katie was about to relate this beautiful story to a little girl and her mummy, knowing they might already be lovers… and her own lover was there to see it happen.

***

“Okay, then,” Katie began. “I know you’ve heard of the tooth fairy, but did you know there are other kinds of fairies, too?”

Brooke shook her head, hanging on every word.

“This is a story about one special fairy named Ellette. Now, you know that all fairies love pretty things, especially pretty little girls like you.” She tapped Brooke on the nose, sparking another giggle. “But some little girls are extra special – we say they must be part fairy themselves, because they have magic inside them.”

“Do I have fairy magic?” Brooke asked.

“Maybe… Do you love pretty things, especially when they are sparkly and pink?”

“Yes!”

Katie nodded approvingly. “Good. Also, all fairies – even part-fairies – are very good to their mums. Do you always try to be helpful, kind and loving with your mother?”

“I… I try…” Brooke said, a little unsure if that was enough, but her excitement was undiminished.

“She’s an absolute angel,” Rachel declared, giving her child an adoring look. “The light of my life.”

“Good for you, Brooke!” Katie went on. “So you already have some fairy in you, I’d say. But there’s more than that. When a fairy sees a very pretty girl, she gets a tingle inside, like little fairy wings fluttering in her tummy. Do you ever feel that way?”

“Oh, I do!” Brooke exclaimed. “All the time!”

As Katie continued her story, Rayne snuggled closer to Rachel. Taking one of the woman’s hands, she deftly slipped it beneath the hem of her skirt. Rachel couldn’t resist tracing tiny circles on the fairy’s inner thigh, slowly moving higher as Rayne’s blissful sigh encouraged her.

“You might have the magic,” Katie continued, “but that’s where Ellette comes in. Her job is to help girls like you find the magic inside, so they can always be happy like the fairies.”

“How…?” Brooke asked, more interested than ever.

As thrilled as her little girl was becoming, Rachel was even more excited. By this point, her fingers were brushing against the warm wetness of Rayne’s bare slit, and the girl was nuzzling her neck. She was still listening avidly to Katie’s story, though.

“Well, finding that hidden magic is what this story is about. You know how the tooth fairy comes at night?”

“Uh-huh.”

“When Ellette finds a special girl, she waits for her to go to bed and fall asleep, then she uses magic to slip through the girl’s window, just like the tooth fairy. But she doesn’t take teeth, or anything yucky like that. Instead she flies over the girl and gives her a kiss, right on the mouth! And it’s a big, juicy kiss – the kind you like best.”

Brooke nodded, totally entranced.

“You see, the fairy magic in that kiss lets Ellette become part of the little girl’s dreams. Now, in the dream, the girl may not know Ellette even is a fairy – she might just see her as a very lovely girl. Sometimes she’s dressed like you, a pretty princess with lots of lace and bows. Sometimes she’s wearing a nice dress. But most of the time…” Katie leaned in close, “Ellette isn’t wearing any clothes at all!”

“Ooooh!” Brooke squealed. “She’s bare naked?” By then, the child was positively dreamy-eyed, but her attention didn’t waver for a second.

If Katie had any doubts that Brooke was a budding lesbian, they vanished in that instant. “In the girl’s dream, Ellette gives her another kiss, and their beautiful little bodies are snuggled together, all cosy and nice. Being so close to Ellette makes the girl feel safe, warm, and all tingly inside. The more they kiss, the stronger that feeling grows. Sometimes Ellette gets the feeling too, but that only happens if the girl has the fairy magic in her.”

By the way Brooke was beginning to squirm and scissor her thighs, Katie knew the child was getting increasingly aroused. Bet she wants to touch herself, only she’s too shy. Hmmm… we really ought to do something about that. 

As for Rachel, she did her best to stay focused on the story, though Rayne proved to be a bit of a distraction. She was engaged in a deep tongue kiss with the girl, fingering her clit.

Brooke was too enthralled to notice. “Then what happens?”

“Now all this time, Ellette is watching the little girl outside the dream. And when that tingle starts, she knows the girl is ready to feel the special magic. Ellette draws the covers back, then she lets her hands slide down the sleeping girl’s body until she reaches the hem of her nightgown. What do you think happens next…?”

“Don’t know! What?”

“Ellette takes hold of the nightie, then sloooowwly pulls it up, higher and higher… until she can see the little girl’s panties.”

“Ohhhhh,” Brooke moaned. She squirmed even more, tightly clutching the hem of her dress.

“But she wants to see more, so Ellette slides those pretty panties down and off the girl’s legs, then helps her out of the nightgown. Which means… what does that mean?” She gives Brooke a knowing look, waiting for her answer.

“They’re BOTH bare naked!” By then, a gleeful Brooke was cupping her vulva, the child’s straying hand pressed snugly between her thighs.

“That’s right. Of course, there’s nothing more beautiful than a naked little girl.” Katie noticed that Rachel was still masturbating Rayne, but the two of them were listening to the story instead of kissing.

“No, no!” Brooke protested, pointing at her mother. “Naked ladies are beau’ful too! Like Mummy!”

That’s interesting, Katie thought, noting the sudden blush that coloured Rachel’s cheeks. “Well, you’re right, they are beautiful… it’s just that Ellette especially likes young girls.”

“Like me…?”

“Exactly like you, sweetie.”

Tell me more!” Brooke said. “What happens when Elliette an’ the girl are bare naked?”

“First, Ellette very gently spreads the girl’s legs open, then lies down between them. What she wants is to take a close look at her kitty. If she can see honey there, making it glisten and sparkle in the moonlight… well, then she knows for sure that the girl is ready for the gift.”

“What IS it!?” Brooke cried, her curiosity at fever pitch.

Gazing into the child’s eyes, Katie lowered her voice to a gentle murmur. “Ellette gives the girl a kiss… right on her kitty.”

Brooke gasped. “Sh-she does?”

With a quick nod, Katie continued. “But this isn’t just a normal kiss… it’s a magic fairy kiss, and it makes the tingling grow even more. The girl feels it move through her body as it gets stronger. Fairies love the taste of a little girl’s honey more than anything, and Ellette uses her tongue to lick up all she can. The girl loves it, too! Being licked down there feels amazing, and soon the tingling inside gets so powerful that she can’t keep still.

“That’s the moment when she gets the gift. It’s like all the love in her heart coming together, then going off in a huge cascade of fireworks.”

“What happens then?”

“The gift lasts a long time… but as it fades away, the girl drifts off into a deep, happy sleep. She might not remember the dream when she wakes up, but after that night she’ll be able to give herself those same special feelings, and bring back the gift whenever she wants. All she has to do is think about pretty girls or lovely ladies, and touch herself where Ellette gave her the first kiss. Even better, she can find another girl – or a lady – to kiss her in that same place.”

The child pursed her lips thoughtfully, then said, “Does Ellette ever come back?”

“Well, Ellette can’t be there all the time – she has to go all around the world to find all the girls who have fairy magic in them. But she always watches over her special girls as they grow up and she visits their dreams as often as she can, even if they don’t always remember.”

Katie paused before adding, “Of course, there’s a legend about another gift she gives… would you like to hear about that?”

“Oh, yes! Tell me, please!”

“It’s said that when Ellette finds two of her special girls who are meant to be each other’s true love, she’ll arrange for them to meet, then give each one a bit of her own magic. Then, when those girls make love for the first time, that magic mixes together and it feels just like it did that very first time. Maybe even better.”

“That’s a beautiful story,” Rachel said. “One thing I’m curious about, though: is Ellette the only fairy who gives special kisses?” She was gazing evenly at Katie, the meaning of her words plain as day.

“We are still very young fairies,” Rayne said, reaching up to caress the woman’s face, “so our magic’s not quite as strong as hers… but we love to give kisses to little girls.”

Katie spoke up. “Rachel…do you think your daughter might like a special kiss?”

At that, Brooke jumped from Katie’s arms and to her feet, standing before her mother with clasped hands. “Yes! Oh, Mummy, can I have one, can I please?”

For over two years, Rachel had struggled to be a proper mother and resist the illicit longing she felt for her little girl… but in the presence of the fairies, her resolve had all but evaporated. “If you want to, darling… then yes, you can.”

Smiling invitingly at the child, Katie patted the space next to her on the bench. Then, as Brooke seated herself, she knelt in front of the little girl, tenderly stroking her legs.

Those fairy fingers soon found their way beneath Brooke’s frilly pink skirt. “Is this okay?” Katie asked.

Brooke was biting her lower lip, her face a picture of nervous anticipation. She nodded.

Katie slowly pushed the girl’s skirt up until a pair of pink panties came into view. “Oh, those are very pretty,” she cooed. “Did Mommy pick them out for you?”

“Yes,” Brooke breathed, clearly delighted to be showing off her knickers to an older girl.

While Rachel was fixated on the sexy scene unfolding between her daughter and Katie, Rayne slipped down to kneel before her. Just as Katie had, she pushed the woman’s skirt up to reveal gauzy black knickers, sheer enough that Rachel’s neatly-trimmed sex could be seen. “Nice…” Rayne said.

Katie trailed her finger through Brooke’s pudenda, pleased to find a damp patch on the front of the child’s panties. She took hold of the elastic waistband. “Lift your bottom, love.”

The little girl quivered with excitement as she raised her bum, a tiny whimper escaping as Katie tugged her underpants down, then off, pausing first to remove Brooke’s sandals. Katie pressed the soft cotton knickers to her face, took a long, deep breath, then grinned at her young lover. “You smell soooo good,” she said.

“Aw… thank you,” Brooke replied, blushing ever so slightly..

Placing the pink panties to one side, Katie centred her attention on Brooke’s baby-smooth sex. “So pretty!” she exclaimed. It was, too – a delicate flower, with a hint of moisture adorning the tender petals.

“Mummy’s pussy is pretty, too,” Rayne said as she removed Rachel’s sexy knickers to expose the woman’s cunt.

“Oh, God…” Rachel mumbled, bracing herself for whatever this lovely young girl had in mind. “Oh, my God!”

Resting her hands on Brooke’s knees, Katie gave the child a sweet smile. “Are you ready for the special kiss?”

As if too overwhelmed to speak, the child nodded once.

Katie bent to brush her lips along Brooke’s inner thighs, slowly making her way toward the little girl’s centre. Soon her mouth was nearly touching the warm pink cleft. She extended her tongue, carefully grazing it with a feather-like flick.

It was enough for Brooke to feel, though. “Oooohhh!” she squeaked. “Is this the – the magic?”

Katie let her mouth answer, pressing an open-mouthed kiss into the child, her tongue probing into the snug slit. It was warm and wet inside, but she could only penetrate so far. Wow, she’s super tight in there. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. 

That still left the girl’s vulva to enjoy, and the eleven-year-old fairy set to work, licking Brooke’s slit up and down.

“Oh,” Brooke moaned. “Oh.”

Rachel and Rayne were both avidly watching the sex show taking place right next to them. The little girl’s mother was enraptured by the sight of Brooke’s first lesbian experience.

Finally, she could no longer be a passive witness. Turning to the fairy kneeling at her feet, she gave Rayne a desperate look, her cunt on full display. “Please,” was all she said.

Much as Rayne loved to tease, she thought it best to give the poor woman what she needed so badly. Shoving Rachel’s legs even further apart, she buried her mouth in the juicy flesh, going down with everything she had – first dipping her tongue deep inside, rolling it around a few times, then licking it up and down. Rayne took care to keep her from coming right away, too – she preferred to take her time with a lover.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck!” Rachel yelped, holding Rayne’s head tightly against her vulva. She groped her breasts with the other hand.

Katie paused her licking – though she did continue to stimulate Brooke’s clitoris with her fingers – to observe Rachel as she skated closer to orgasm. “Hmmm… I think we should ask your mommy to get her tits out. Don’t you, Brooke?”

“Please, Mummy?” Brooke said, turning to her mother. “I want to see them!”

While Rayne continued to tongue-fuck her vagina, Rachel managed to loosen the string on her top, letting it slip from her shoulders to bare her breasts. While they weren’t large, she had nice, firm C-cups that barely sagged without a bra.

“Can I take off my dress?” Brooke asked no one in particular. “I – ooohhh – I want to be bare naked!”

“I’m fine with that,” said Katie, who was still fingering the child. “What does your mum say?”

“Mmmm, go ahead if you want to!” Rachel panted. “Oh, girl, your m-mouth feels amazing…” Her fingers tangled themselves in Rayne’s hair.

Seizing the skirt of her pretty frock, Brooke frantically wriggled it up over her head, then carelessly cast it to one side. “Yay!” she enthused, spreading her little arms wide. “D’you like me with no clothes on?”

“I absolutely do,” Katie murmured, drinking in the view as she bent down to resume her licking. The child’s bare body was exquisite from head to toe, and her pussy tasted wonderful. Sucking at the bare slit, Katie let the tart nectar coat her tongue.

Rachel’s heart swelled with love at the sight of her naked daughter, enjoying love with another girl. She’d always secretly hoped that Brooke would be gay when she grew up, and it seemed her prayers had been answered.

But… does that mean I can make love to her? she asked herself.

Observing the child in the midst of her sexual awakening, Rachel made a decision.

“Brooke?” she hesitantly asked.

The child looked up, and Rachel was smitten as never before by those sweet brown eyes. So filled with love for her mummy… how could this be wrong?

“Baby girl,” she said, a tremor in her voice. Rayne was still going down on her, after all. “W-would you like to – to suck mummy’s nipple? Because that would – ohhhh – it would make me very happy.”

Brooke was nodding her head before Rachel had got all the words out. “Yes, Mummy, yes!”

Leaning into her mother, Brooke gave the right breast a few clumsy kisses, then latched on to a lust-swollen nipple.

When Rayne saw that happen, she picked up the tempo of her licking, bathing the woman’s opening nine or ten times before she zeroed in on Rachel’s clitoris. She expected her older lover to come very soon, and intended to make it unforgettable.

I’ll remember this moment forever, Rachel mused. She couldn’t believe that her fantasy of making love with a young girl was finally coming true. Better still, she was also sharing her daughter’s first time… and Brooke was giving her pleasure, too.

Rachel’s world disappeared into a swirl of light and heat that swallowed her whole.

She cried out loud, then went into a moan that quickly mounted into a scream. Clutching her little girl tightly, she wrapped both legs around Rayne. Spasms of ecstasy rocked Rachel’s frame until she was totally spent, slumping against the back of the bench.

When her eyes fluttered open, Rayne was seated to her left, the girl’s lips brushing her ear. “Help Katie make love to Brooke,” she murmured. “Your little girl needs special kisses from Mommy, too.”

Rachel’s concept of how a proper mother ought to behave had undergone a major change… and the only surprise she felt now was how long it had taken her to see the light. Why did I deny my child the love she wants from me? she wondered. Never again. Thanks to these two wonderful fairies, it’s not too late to set things right.

Getting on her knees beside Katie, she joined the girl between Brooke’s thighs. Raising her head, Katie was quick to recognise Rachel’s intentions. With a gleeful smile, she backed away, giving the woman room.

The moment of truth had arrived. Rachel was close enough to her little girl’s cunt to feel its warmth on her face, breathing in the delicate scent she’d so often savoured on her daughter’s soiled knickers.

Brooke could only stare, her mouth hanging open in an expression of astonishment. Is Mummy really, really going to…?

Extending her tongue, Rachel moved in to take the first lick.

“Oh… oh, Mummy,” Brooke breathed as her mother’s special kiss stirred up wonderful feelings inside. Even nicer than the fairy feelings, she decided.

Katie had brought the girl to the edge of climax, but elected to save the prize for Rachel. However, she did want to participate, so Katie moved to Brooke’s left side and began to lavish attention on her rosy nipples. A surprised squeak escaped the child’s lips, then she hugged Katie’s face to her chest.

Brooke’s nipples were too small to be sucked very well – but Katie expected that, having become very familiar with the nude bodies of little girls in the last couple of weeks. So instead, she pleasured the pert buds with her tongue, occasionally teasing them with playful bites. Whatever she did, Brooke seemed to love it. Of course, she’s also getting licked by Mummy…

Rachel was ecstatic. Her deepest held fantasy had come true, and it was incredible. Her daughter’s pussy was the sweetest she’d ever tasted, and Brooke’s mewls of delight made music in the quiet glen. She let the honey coat her lips and chin, bathing in the essence of her little girl.

Brooke had only recently become familiar with the concept of lesbianism. She’d seen two women snogging at a bus stop one day, when on an outing with Mummy. Later that evening, she asked about it. Her mum explained that some ladies liked other ladies instead of men, then went on to admit that she was that way herself.

The idea appealed enormously to the curious six-year-old… and when Mummy said she was also a lesbian, Brooke’s mind was made up: she intended to be one as well. She certainly liked girls a whole lot more than boys!

Of course, being so young, she assumed it would be years before getting to be a real lesbian. Sex was for older girls, everyone knew that! But it didn’t stop Brooke from dreaming about what it would be like to make love to a pretty woman, sharing kisses and touches.

Now it was happening to her for real! Mummy’s mouth was on her kitty, doing all kinds of lovely things. And the fairy Katie was licking her nipples, sort of like what she’d done a couple of minutes before to her mum.

Sensing a presence to her right, Brooke opened her eyes to see the other fairy, the one who had just been licking Mummy – she couldn’t remember her name, but the girl had a nice face.

“Hi, little one,” the fairy said. “Can I kiss you?”

Brooke nodded, certain that this wouldn’t be a casual peck, but one of the big kisses she loved to get from Mummy when they were tucked up together at night.

Sure enough, the fairy drew close to join Brooke in a kiss that quickly grew heated, their tongues quickly falling into a passion-filled dance.

She was just licking Mummy! Brooke realised, the tart flavour of pussy filling her mouth. Wanting more, she sucked at the older girl’s tongue.

All of a sudden, a shivery good feeling surged through the child’s body, those lovely sensations from her mummy’s mouth getting even stronger. Something was about to happen, only she wasn’t sure what it was. It got bigger and bigger and then it was everywhere, this huge happening all over, like nothing she’d ever, ever experienced. Maybe a bit like that wild swoopy feeling you got on a roller coaster… only now the roller coaster was her, racing this way and that..

Brooke tried to cry out, but her words merged into a one long moan. Barely clinging to consciousness as the rapture enveloped her, she thought of Ellette… and then she knew the magic was inside her.

When she opened her eyes, Brooke was nestled in Mummy’s lap, her head resting on those beautiful soft titties she loved so much. The two fairies were on either side, giving her gentle caresses.

“Um… does this mean I’m part fairy?” she whispered with a hopeful smile.

“Yes, little sister,” Katie said, teasing her nipple with a fingertip. “You’re one of us.”

“You know, Brooke,” said Rachel, “I think we need to show these two fairies our thanks. D’you think they might like to get special kisses?”

That got the child’s interest in a hurry. Sitting up straight, Brooke looked from one girl to the other. “Would you?”

The fairies shared an amused glance, then the one whose name Brooke couldn’t recall said, “Oh, my, yes. We’d love that.”

“Yay!” Brooke cheered, scrambling to her feet and doing a happy dance. “I’m part fairy, so I get to give special kisses!”

Giggling, Rayne and Katie rose to remove their dresses – which left them both completely nude.

“You aren’t wearing knickers!” Brooke exclaimed, looking from girl to the other..

“Of course not, silly!” Katie responded with a giggle. “Fairies are nature spirits. We like to feel the air on our bodies.”

Rachel had to smile. After hearing that, Brooke may never wear panties again, she thought. That said, I like the thought of always having easy access to my little girl. 

And speaking of easy access… Rachel pushed her dress down, wriggled out of the snug garment and tossed it onto a nearby statue of a prancing elf. Now they were all naked.

The fairy girls seated themselves side by side on the bench, then mother and daughter knelt before them – Brooke taking her place before Katie, Rachel before Rayne.

The six-year-old watched carefully as her mummy spread Rayne’s legs apart, moved in to kiss her belly, then slowly traced a line of kisses downward.

Peering up at Katie, Brooke felt a twinge of nervousness, afraid she wouldn’t get the kiss right, but Katie gave her a nod of encouragement. “Don’t worry. You know how to do this,” she said. “You have the magic now!”

Her confidence renewed, Brooke started by copying what her mum had done. She buried her face in Katie’s tummy, nuzzling the soft skin, loving its delicate scent.

Following her mother’s lead, she kissed lower and lower. When she saw Mummy’s tongue slip between Rayne’s lower lips, the child knew it was time for her to make the magic happen.

Here we go, Brooke thought, dipping her tongue into Katie’s vaginal opening.

Brooke wasn’t sure what to expect from the taste, but it wasn’t bad at all. Sweet, though not like candy, with a certain tartness. Maybe like some kind of fruit? she thought. Whatever; she liked it. Even better, she soon realised that with little flicks of her tongue, she could make the fairy squirm and moan.

But the very best part of all was having Mummy next to her, wearing no clothes at all and licking a fairy of her own. She continued to copy her mother’s moves,

Would Mummy let me do this to her? Brooke wondered. It’s only fair, ‘cause she got to lick me. Much as she loved giving special kisses to a fairy, the idea of doing the same for her beloved mother made the child quiver inside.

Katie watched in awe as this beautiful girl of six went down on her. So adorable, like a kitten drinking from a bowl of milk for the first time. Taking that first cautious taste, discovering how much she liked it and going back for more. The bright pink bow in Brooke’s hair bobbed up and down as the child got more and more into eating pussy.

Rayne was the first one who started to gasp, but Katie was soon doing the same. The two lovers held hands, gazing deep into each other’s eyes as they shared this wondrous experience.

Katie’s head was spinning as the young girl brought her closer and closer to an orgasm, but in the midst of  the pleasure a thought came to her. Being a fairy is about more than just the freedom to love and be loved however you want… it’s about helping other girls find that freedom, too. Maybe that’s the real magic, she thought, the anticipation of release building inside her.

Rachel had two fingers working deep inside Rayne as she feasted on the young girl’s cunt, savouring the thick, rich nectar. Still observing her mum, Brooke was soon doing the same to Katie. The girls’ bodies were shifting and squirming with each new touch. Then, just before the instant of release, Katie and Rayne turned to each other, their lips crushing together in a passionate kiss.

A few seconds later, the glen rang with their cries as both girls came, hugging tightly as mum and daughter took them over the top and beyond.

When they finally recovered, the four lovers sat together on the bench, blissfully content. There was no need for talk as they enjoyed the coolness of the forest air on their bodies and the warmth of each other’s touch.

Brooke crawled into her mother’s lap, then she and Rachel came together in a gentle kiss that soon grew deep and ardent, then they rested in each other’s arms.

“I love you, Mummy,” Brooke whispered.

“Oh, baby girl,” Rachel sighed, caressing her child all over. “I love you, too. You’re my sexy little princess.”

Brooke giggled. “Not a princess… a fairy!” Then her mirth turned serious. “Mummy, will you ever give me special kisses again? And… can I give them to you?”

“Of course, sweetie.” Rachel slipped a hand between her daughter’s legs, resting it on Brooke’s vulva. “We’re lovers now, the two of us. We’ll do everything together.” They kissed again.

Rayne and Katie were blissfully nestled together, pleased with their day’s work… especially Katie, whose debut as a fairy couldn’t have been nicer.

After a while, mother and daughter got dressed, and the fairies slipped back into their outfits before leading Brooke and Rachel down the path that led to the public area of the garden.

Rounding one bend, Rayne paused to pluck some leaves from a plant that grew alongside the path. “We call this kitty mint,” she said, handing some to Rachel and Brooke. “It tastes really good, and it’s just the thing if you don’t want people to ask what you’ve been up to,” she added with a giggle.

Rachel thanked Rayne, but this little gesture got her thinking. The confidence these young girls had in their sexuality was a surprise and a delight. Their impressive experience at making love would explain much of that, but there was something more. For one thing, Katie and Rayne both seemed to be utterly indifferent to the possibility of getting caught having sex with the women and little girls who visited Latchmore. This must be by design, she thought. There’s much more to this place than meets the eye.

“So,” she asked, “are all the fairies, er… like the two of you?”

Rayne smiled, pleased to see Rachel put the pieces together. “We fairies are all sisters, only not from the same family. There’s one very important thing that unites us… and I think you now know what that is.”

Little Brooke was especially intrigued. “Are these special fairies who visit girls like me?” she asked with eager anticipation as the four made their way down the trail.

“There are lots and lots of fairies, and they’re all special,” Katie replied, “I don’t know for sure who might visit you next, but I’m sure Liliana will come for you in a few years. When she gives her special kiss, it makes a girl’s titties grow. I bet yours will be just as lovely as your mum’s.”

“Who’s Liliana?” Brooke asked. “Will you tell me her story?”

“Oh, it’s getting late, little one… we’ll have to save that for your next visit.”

Rayne added, “We’ll be sure to send you both invitations to our mother-daughter days. You’ll enjoy those. We might get to spend more time with you!”

“Yay!” Brooke cheered.

As the garden came into sight, Rachel paused. “Katie, Rayne… I want to thank you both. My little girl and I are closer than ever now, and you wonderful fairies made it happen.” Kneeling next to Brooke, she claimed her daughter’s mouth in a lover’s kiss, and the child responded in kind.

When they parted, Brooke piped up. “Thanks, fairies! Me an’ Mum are in love now! Isn’t it great?”

They exchanged warm hugs… then, with whispered goodbyes, Rachel and Brooke wandered back into the garden.

Rayne wrapped an arm around Katie’s waist, and the contented lovers watched their new friends go.

***

That night, back at Fairy House, they lay side by side in their bed. Rayne had already drifted off to sleep, but Katie kept thinking about her first day in the gardens as a fairy.

Back in the everyday world, she’d never felt so free. There were always rules about what she should think, how she should feel, the proper way for her to behave. Here though, she was her own girl, loved just how she was by a wonderful new family. It was as if she’d been in a cage for most of her childhood, but had finally been released to fly.

That gave her a warm feeling inside, and it wasn’t even the best part. What made her feel especially good was having helped give a taste of that freedom to Rachel and little Brooke. Maybe they didn’t have real fairy magic, but this was near enough to satisfy Katie. Maybe fairy stories are like that, she decided. A little more true than you think.

As she drifted closer to slumber, she thought once more about the story of Ellette’s kiss. Just like in the story, Katie had ended up beside her true love.

“If you’re really out there, Ellette,” she whispered, “thank you.”

On to Chapter Ten!

By BlueJean

My uncle’s ship sailed into port the next morning, so Aunt Rita and I headed down to the harbour to help unload his cargo of fish. It had been a good haul – a rarity in these days of pollution, overfished waters, and the remnants of EU regulations.

I dragged a bucket of fish across the jetty, screwing my nose up in disgust. A single fish was smelly enough – hundreds of them were quite horrific.

Odette – one of Uncle Derek’s crew – shot me a grin as she hoofed a large crate around on her shoulder. “You do not like fish?” the heavyset French woman asked.

“I prefer them when they’re cooked and on a plate,” I told her.

“Oh, but when you cook a fish that you yourself have caught, it will taste many times better, you know?”

I wasn’t convinced. “If you say so.”

“I do say so.”

Jack – another crew member and a cocky one at that – strutted around bare chested with a permanent gum-chewing grin on his face. He winked at me as he passed, then stopped in his tracks and settled his gaze on Aunt Rita’s arse as she bent to pick up another crate. Odette slapped him round the back of the head.

“Ow! Fuck! Why’d you do that?” the boy squealed.

“You know why I did this, you little shit,” Odette growled at him. “If Derek catch you looking at his wife this way, he will give you more than a smack, I think.”

Aunt Rita regarded Jack with humourous eyes. “Give it up, boy. I’d eat you for breakfast.”

“Who mentioned breakfast?” Uncle Derek boomed as he jumped down from his boat. “I could eat a scabby horse!”

My aunt and uncle headed over to The Mal De Mer with Jack and Odette. The pub doubled as a café during the day, presumably to make up lost income from a dwindling clientele and increasing bureaucracy.

I had already eaten a big bowl of cereal earlier that morning and didn’t care much for sitting in stuffy pubs, so I stayed behind with Sully, Uncle Derek’s first mate. The old man sat on deck smoking a roll-up, fiddling with a piece of rope.

“What’re you doing?” I asked him.

“Knots,” he grunted, barely acknowledging me.

“Knots?”

“Aye. Sailor’s knots. This one’s a clove hitch – nice quick knot when you’re in a fix.”

I perched on the gunwale next to him. “Do you like being a fisherman?”

Sully took a long draw of tobacco and seemed to consider my question carefully. “Not sure it matters if I like it or not. It’s all I’ve ever known, and I’m too old to start anew.”

“Yeah, I suppose. Have you… have you seen any weird stuff out there?” I figured if anyone knew anything about mysterious ocean spirits, it would be Sully.

The old timer flicked his cigarette into the water. “I found a trouser press floatin’ in the ocean once,” he told me, stony-faced. “Took it home and fixed it up. Never sailed out with creases in my bib ‘n’ brace ever again.”

I stared at him until his face contorted into a grin and he coughed out a croaky laugh. I slapped him on the arm and laughed with him. “Oh, you!”

“I’m just messin’ with ya,” he told me, ruffling my hair.

“Have you ever seen a Selkie?”

The old man’s demeanour shifted all of a sudden. His smile vanished and something akin to panic filled his pale eyes. “Why you askin’ me that?”

“I’m reading a book about a Selkie. Do you think they really exist?”

The stiffness in his posture seemed to soften, then he was back to his old self again. “I’ve seen some strange things for sure. Don’t recall seein’ any Selkies, though.”

“But how would you know? A Selkie could have climbed out of its sealskin and might be living as a normal person, but no one would have a clue.”

“Well… that’s as maybe, but I wouldn’t worry yourself over it. Selkies is harmless enough. Now, Finfolk – there’s something you don’t wanna run into.”

“Finfolk?”

So Sully told me the saga of the Finfolk, wicked shapeshifters who lived in their underwater city of Finfolkaheem, and how they would come ashore and kidnap people, forcing them into a life of servitude.

I listened enthralled as he recounted the old sailor’s tale in his gravelly timbre, until eventually the others returned from their breakfast, and the task of unloading the rest of the fish demanded our attention.

By lunchtime we were done, so Aunt Rita and I made our way back home while Uncle Derek secured his boat. As we passed a row of houses that overlooked the beach, my aunt gestured to one of them and told me it was where Madeline lived. I was quick to make a mental note of it.

The first thing I did back at the cottage was scrub myself raw in the bath, eager to rid myself of the fishy stench that clung to me. Having done that, I slipped on my best summer dress – my only dress – did a little curtsy to myself in the mirror, then headed out to return the doll that Isla had mistakenly left at Aunt Rita’s last night.

Of course, all I really wanted was to see Madeline. I was a little wary of the glamorous doctor, but also incredibly drawn to her. My encounter with her the night before may simply have been teasing on her part, but it wasn’t hard convincing myself she’d been flirting with me, and that left me keen to find out how far she was willing to take things. After all, as far as her own daughter was concerned, the woman’s moral lines were few and far between.

“I’m just going downtown to take Isla’s doll back,” I told my aunt as she tinkered with one of her cars in the yard. It was Sunday afternoon and Madeline wouldn’t be at the surgery, but I hoped to find her at home.

My aunt arched a sceptical eyebrow at me. “You look a bit overdressed for a quick delivery. Why the nice frock?”

I flapped my arms up and down in an attempt to project casual indifference, then realised it probably just made me look weird. “Uh, Dunno, it’s a nice day so I thought I’d wear it.”

As I left the cottage behind, Aunt Rita called after me in a sing-song voice. “She’s going to gobble you uh-uuup!”

I was counting on it.

***

Madeline’s status as town doctor afforded her a prime piece of real estate – or as prime as the humble seaside town would allow – that overlooked the beach. Strolling up to the house, something occurred to me: Why would a Selkie bother going to all the effort of enrolling in medical school? Perhaps she was an incredibly ambitious Selkie. Or could it be she had the whole town fooled and wasn’t actually a doctor at all? The latter didn’t bode well for the health and well-being of the local populace, so I considered the former more plausible. With that little mystery resolved to my satisfaction, I straightened out my dress and rang the doorbell.

Isla answered the door in nothing but a pink t-shirt and a pair of matching panties. “‘Ello!” she hollered at me.

“Hi, Isla. I brought your doll,” I said, handing her the little plastic toy. “You left it at Aunt Rita’s.”

“Thanks! Did you play with it? I don’t mind if you did.”

“No,” I told her, breaking into an involuntary grin as I recalled my aunt’s unique use for the toy. “But Aunt Rita did…”

“Okay, bye then!” Isla beamed back, before closing the door on me.

“Wait! Am I allowed to come in?”

“Who is it, Isla?” I heard Madeline call from inside.

“It’s Hailey. She said Rita played with my doll.”

“Well, don’t leave her standing on the doorstep, silly girl – let her in.”

Isla turned back to me. “Mummy said don’t… don’t leave her… um… you… she said not to—”

“I know, I can hear her,” I interjected.

“Okay, come in.”

Stepping across the threshold of the Selkie’s lair, I pondered my chances of making it back out alive. “Do I have to take my shoes off?” I asked Isla.

“Dunno,” she helpfully replied, so I took them off anyway.

I was marshalled into the lounge where Madeline held court from a leather recliner chair, looking stylish in a pair of flared cappuccino trousers and a cream blouse unbuttoned at the neck. Lush, dark hair cascaded down across her shoulders to frame an ample bosom.

The room was light and airy, long sash windows draped with wispy net curtains that undulated gently in the breeze. A set of sliding glass doors opened out onto a wooden balcony and a flight of steps leading to the ocean. It wasn’t hard to imagine Madeline slipping into her sealskin in the dead of night and making her way down to the waters of her true home.

“This is a nice surprise, Hailey,” the doctor purred.

“I just came to bring Isla’s doll back.”

“She bringed my doll back,” Isla confirmed, and held the toy aloft to prove it.

“That was kind of Hailey, wasn’t it?”

The little girl nodded. “Hmm-mm.”

“Did you say thank you?”

“Yep.”

Madeline smiled across at me, her fingertips idly teasing the space between neck and cleavage. “Isla told me you both had lots of fun last night.”

“Um… yeah,” I mumbled, an encroaching feeling of impending doom tugging at me.

“What did you do that was so much fun?”

“We… we just watched TV mostly.”

“Oh? That isn’t what Isla told me.”

The six-year-old clambered up onto her mother’s lap. “It’s okay, Hailey. Mummy doesn’t mind.”

“Hailey, take a seat,” Madeline instructed me, then I knew I was in trouble.

I sank down into the couch opposite mother and daughter. Giving the front door a quick side-glance, I wondered if I could get to it before Madeline got to me. I hadn’t worn my nice dress just to end up being utterly destroyed by a mythical sea creature. Actually, I don’t think Selkies murdered people – not according to my book, anyway. Madeline may have been the exception to the rule, though.

“So you were doing rude things with my daughter.” A statement, not a question. The cat was well and truly out of the bag.

“W-we were just messing about,” I squeaked.

Madeline’s words were honey laced with razor blades. “Tell me what you did.”

“Just… just stuff.”

“Tell me.”

“I-I don’t want to,” I stuttered.

“Why don’t you want to tell me?”

“Because… it’s embarrassing. And you’ll be angry.”

“No. I won’t be angry. And there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Nothing at all.” Madeline drew her daughter’s t-shirt up past her waist. “Isla was very naughty to tell you about the things we do together. I’ve explained to her the need for secrecy in these matters.”

The doctor snaked a hand down between Isla’s legs, her fingers tracing the child’s cleft through the pink cotton of her panties. “But now we both have a secret, don’t we? And if you keep my secret, I’ll keep yours. Does that sound fair, Hailey?”

I sat mesmerised as Madeline stroked her little girl. It was happening. Sex was happening. Right here. “Yeah. Don’t worry, I won’t ever say anything.”

“Good.”

Madeline planted little kisses across the child’s neck. “Lift your bottom up for Mummy,” she told her, then hooked her thumbs into the waistband of Isla’s knickers, drawing them down her legs and discarding them upon the floor. “Knees up and legs apart, honey. Let’s give Hailey a nice view.”

“Are we going to show Hailey rude things?” Isla asked as her chubby legs parted to reveal a puffy pink mound.

Her mother licked a finger, then ploughed it through the bulbous lips of her daughter’s pussy, a perfectly manicured, painted nail parting the pale flesh as it went to and fro. “We certainly could. But perhaps we shouldn’t. We don’t want Hailey to get scared and run away, do we?”

She was daring me to stay the course. Telling me it was all or nothing, that if I chose to walk away the door would be closed to me forever. Even at eleven, I understood what the stakes were. I would never get a chance like this again.

Hiking my dress up, I slipped my panties off without hesitation, then spread my legs to display myself to the beautiful woman and her daughter opposite me.

Madeline flashed her eyes. “Well, there’s a challenge if ever I saw one.” She set Isla on her feet and gave the six-year-old a pat on the bum. “I think we should take this upstairs. Show Hailey where my bedroom is, poppet. I’ll be up in a sec.”

Isla grabbed me by the hand and pulled me up from the couch. “Follow me, Hailey!”

Madeline’s bedroom was spacious and without clutter, a cool white suite dominated by an ornate cream and gold queen size bed, the sheets as pale and stark as the surrounding decor. Isla leapt upon it with a  whoop, while I sat on my haunches upon the bedspread in a more respectful manner.

Madeline wasn’t far behind. She closed the door, then unbuttoned both her blouse and trousers, discarding each garment upon the grey wooden floor. “Two pretty little girls in my bedroom… Whatever shall I do with you both?” the doctor purred as she knelt on the bed and took Isla into her embrace. “Kiss Mummy.”

Isla wrapped both arms around her mother, and the two of them shared an intimate kiss. Then a little pink t-shirt was being pulled up and off, leaving the six-year-old naked and cherub-like. Madeline bent to take a tiny nipple into her mouth, swirling her tongue round the pink nub before switching to the other.

The little girl gazed at me with a dreamy smile. “Look what Mummy’s doing.”

All I could do was sit and stare, and wonder if I was to remain a spectator in this delightfully erotic game. Until Madeline finally set her hungry eyes upon me. “Help Hailey take her dress off, Isla,” she told her daughter, then Isla was unzipping me, pulling the dress down my body.

Madeline stalked panther-like across the bed, then pushed me onto my back. She raked her fingertips down my pale frame, causing me to shiver. When her hand found my pussy, I thrust myself against her touch, a short moan escaping my lips.

“So eager,” Madeline growled, her finger slipping inside me. “And so wet for such a young girl.” She fucked me for a few tantalising minutes before sucking herself clean of my juices, then reached back to unsnap her bra and allow her breasts to spill free. She loomed over me, a dangling tit guided toward my mouth. I took her dark nipple between my lips as she stroked my hair and murmured, “Suck my titty. Make it nice and wet.”

Isla wriggled her way alongside me to grasp her mother’s other breast with both hands and suckle upon it like a baby.

“Now kiss each other,” Madeline demanded, so we exchanged her nipples for each other’s tongues while she peppered her way down our bodies – a trail of kisses snaking across chests, ribs and navels. Then finally down to our pussies, where she lingered, bobbing between Isla and myself, fingers, teeth and tongue employed with expert precision.

I moaned out loud and tried to grab her hair, but she slapped my hands away.

“I didn’t say you could touch me, little girl,” she told me harshly. “Put your hands behind your head and keep them there until I make you come.”

l swallowed my defiance and did as the doctor asked while she flicked and lashed her tongue over me, parting my labia with her thumbs so she could get at the swollen nub of my clitoris.

I came harder than any eleven-year-old had any business coming. Hard enough that I thought I might actually faint. “Oh, my God!” I shrieked.

Isla’s orgasm was a more subdued affair. She sucked on a thumb and gazed down drowsy-eyed as Madeline took the child’s entire peach-like vulva into her mouth, tongue rolling back and forth inside the tight gooey hole. Isla closed her eyes and drew a long breath of pure ecstasy, writhing and quivering as the climax racked her small body.

I lay there in a daze and watched Isla get on her hands and knees at her mother’s instruction. When the child’s bare bottom was adjacent to my face, Madeline bared her teeth at me – more snarl than smile. “I’m going to lick my little girl’s arsehole now, Hailey. Would you like to watch me do that?”

“Yeah. I would,” I answered quickly.

She laughed at my eagerness, and a mocking edge tinged her words. “Are you sure? It’s ever such a rude thing for a girl your age to see.”

“Please, Madeline,” I whined. “I won’t tell anyone or anything.”

“Well, seeing as you asked so nicely…”

She began with a light flick of her tongue – a mere tickle upon the child’s puckered hole. Isla squealed with laughter and jolted away, her rosebud twitching at the sudden violation. “Keep still,” her mother growled, then plunged back between her daughter’s arse, stabbing lewdly at the taut muscle while I watched on in appalled fascination.

Without warning, Madeline swung a hand back and gave Isla a light slap across each bum cheek, employed at exactly the right angle and with enough force to elicit a satisfying crack, causing the pink globes to quiver like jelly.

“Ow-wa,” Isla protested half-heartedly, peering back at her mother with a scowl, and perhaps the faintest hint of a smirk.

“Oh, shush,” Madeline scoffed. “Mummy will kiss it better.” She grasped each tiny cheek and sucked on them one after the other, leaving the pale flesh ablush and glistening with saliva. Then, prising the little girl open once again, she snaked her tongue through the tight slit and back into the crack of her arse.

Turning to me with wild eyes, Madeline told me, “I want to see you eat her,” before grabbing Isla’s legs and unceremoniously depositing her on my face. The doctor slipped her own knickers off and knelt adjacent to us, then spread her daughter’s bum cheeks apart. She dipped two fingers inside herself, and they emerged moments later glistening with her juices. I thought she meant to pop them into my mouth, but instead she smeared the viscous fluid over her little girl’s smooth cunt. “Taste it,” she commanded.

I slithered my tongue through the sticky bare flesh while Madeline held the six-year-old open for me. The scents that filled my nostrils were potent and complex: The faint acrid notes of Isla’s pussy and arse – subtly akin to the smell of saliva on skin – and the mature earthy musk of her mother, all combined into one overpowering carnal perfume.

I spent the rest of the afternoon in a fog of hypnotic arousal, willfully resigning myself to Madeline’s control. Her fingers grasped and probed at me: between my legs, in my mouth, and stroking through my hair. When she had me lick Isla’s arsehole, cooing and tittering at me as I went about it, I knew I was simply another one of her playthings, but didn’t much care.

Then she was lowering herself down onto my face, the hot moist Venus flytrap of her cunt rubbing against my mouth as she squatted over me and hissed nasty words, until my head swam with it all and the need for release was an exquisite torture.

We sat opposite one another with our legs slung wide, and joined pussy to pussy, grinding together at the doctor’s instruction, while Isla stood over us and rubbed the palms of her hands up and down her swollen vulva.

“I’m so glad you decided to pay us a visit, Hailey,” Madeline purred as we tribbed.

“M-me, too…” I whimpered.

Isla was chuckling away to herself as we fucked beneath her.

“What’s so funny, munchkin?” her mother asked.

“This!” the six-year-old trilled impishly, then proceeded to pee over the two of us.

But the good doctor barely batted an eyebrow, and though I was all too familiar with her daughter’s little party trick, this time I was too far gone to muster any complaint.

“Dirty, dirty child,” Madeline hissed as the warm liquid splashed against her tits. “It’s rather rude to piss on us when we’re fucking, isn’t it, Hailey?”

“I’m… gonna do an orgasm…” I groaned as Isla gleefully swivelled her hips this way and that, the last of her piss dribbling over my belly and down between our legs.

“We – we’ll talk about this later, young lady,” Madeline told her daughter as she ground into me, pumping faster and harder. “But in the meantime, you just… stand there… while Hailey and I make each other come.”

We brushed labia against labia with an increased urgency, the roughness of Madeline’s pubic thatch sublime against my clitoris. Our climax was simultaneous, cunts joined as one, juices mingling, the sheets beneath us warm and wet.

I slumped back against the bed in exhaustion as Madeline hovered over me, her mouth upon mine. “You’re mine now,” she told me when finally we parted. “I’m going to corrupt you, Hailey. Just like I corrupted your aunt.”

I lay beneath her with the silliest of grins on my face – wet, exhausted, and stinking of sex. “Oh, Okay. I don’t mind, actually,” I told her breathlessly. “That sounds… quite nice?”

Madeline climbed off the bed and pulled her trousers back on. She straightened out her hair and gave me a perplexed look that told me I was probably a bit odd for an eleven-year-old. “Yes. Well. Would you like a glass of ice tea before you head home?”

“Ice tea for me, please!” Isla piped, bouncing up and down on the wet sheets.

***

When I got back to the cottage, Uncle Derek was in the yard mending fishing nets with Odette, while Aunt Rita busied herself beneath a car bonnet, as usual.

“There she is!” my uncle hollered. “Been off exploring, have ya?”

I gave him a sheepish look. “Uh, yeah. Kind of.”

“Stay away from the sea caves down in the bay, though,” he warned me. “The tides can catch ya out if you’re not careful.”

“I think she is more into reading books than exploring sea caves,” Odette mused.

“I do like to read,” I agreed. “But I like to have fun sometimes, too.” Especially if it involved sex with beautiful perverted ladies.

“Bastard fucking thing!” Aunt Rita yelled and hurled her spanner through the air. “Fucking carburetor hates me.”

I picked the tool up and went over to hand it back to her. “Why did you become a mechanic, Aunt Rita?”

“Because I’m an idiot,” she told me in a brusque manner, but then seemed to regret her tone. She breathed a sigh and told me, “I’m fascinated by machines. We didn’t have any where I came from.”

“Did you have to go to mechanic school?”

“Nope. Self taught. One morning I found myself tinkering with a broken toaster, and the next thing I knew, I’m fixing the whole town’s cars. Weird.”

“Do you want some help?” I offered.

“Underneath a car bonnet’s no place for girls in pretty dresses.” Shooting Odette and Uncle Derek a brief glance, she turned back to me with a sly look and a hushed tone. “But you can tell me why I smell a certain doctor on you.”

I gave her a doubtful smirk. “You can’t smell her.”

“Oh yes I ca-an! I’d know that body spray anywhere. Details, please!”

Did I want to tell her? My aunt seemed pretty laid back, and I’d seen first hand the extent of her own perversions. But there was still a chance she would take her friend’s molestation of me badly, me being her niece and all.

“She’s quite… rude, isn’t she?” I ventured. Neither an admission nor a denial.

“Ha! I knew it!” Rita cackled. “I bet she had your face between her legs.”

“Maybe…” I mumbled in a barely audible voice, my finger idly tracing the shape of a heart into a thin layer of dust upon the car chassis.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” my aunt asked me softly.

I nodded bashfully.

“Did she make you come?”

Another nod.

“I’m jea-lous!” she sang, and I wondered exactly who she was jealous of.

I regarded my aunt with a growing curiosity: Her thick, dark hair, all tied up in a bun, pale skin and sparkling brown eyes. And then suddenly a memory. No, not a memory – because I remembered her with red hair, not black, and green eyes instead of brown. A dream, then. And in my dream Rita was not the loud, brash aunt I knew, but a quieter, more subdued creature. I tried to clarify the image in my mind’s eye, but it slipped away as all dreams do.

“Don’t you mind?” I asked her.

“Mind what?” Rita replied, glancing up at me from her work. I must have been daydreaming for longer than I thought.

“That Madeline… did stuff to me?”

Aunt Rita merely shrugged. “I tried to warn you what would happen if you went over there. And you did tell me you enjoyed it. Do you want me to mind?”

It was my turn to shrug. “No. I’m glad you’re okay with it. You’re a pretty cool aunty, actually. And you say swear words in front of me.”

“Fuckin’ right I’m cool!” she exclaimed and tried to give me a high five.

I screwed up my face and recoiled. “Nah, you’ve got oily hands.”

My aunt rolled her eyes. “Kids these days – terrified of getting a bit of dirt on ’em.”

“I’m gonna have a shower, okay?” I told her, making my way towards the cottage.

“Hailey?” my aunt called, beckoning me back with a finger.

“Yes?”

“Not a word of this to your uncle. Or anyone else for that matter. They wouldn’t understand.”

After all the very adult things I’d participated in that day, I found myself a little offended at being reminded of the child I still was. “I’m not stupid, Aunt Rita. I won’t tell anyone.”

She kissed me on the forehead. “Good girl.”

Back in my room, I dove onto the bed with a whoop and lay there grinning up at the ceiling with my arms and legs splayed wide. What on earth had I gotten myself into? I’d climbed aboard a magical ferry and sailed over to my very own porn movie featuring a naughty aunt, a perverted doctor and a dirty little girl. Mum could stay on honeymoon with her slimy new husband for as long as she wanted, for all I cared. I was quite happy here on this isolated peninsula with Aunt Rita, Uncle Derek, Madeline and Isla. I thought I could still smell the doctor’s scent, then suddenly remembered why.

I pulled a pair of panties out of my dress pocket and inspected them. I’d snatched them up from the floor while Isla helped her mum make tea in the kitchen, squirrelling them away in my dress before anyone had noticed. Madeline’s dirty knickers. The scent of a Selkie. Probably.

I crushed the soiled satin against my face and breathed in its aroma. “Fuck you, Mum,” I mumbled into the damp undies with a big satisfied grin on my face. “Fuck you.”

On to Chapter Four!

For a useful summary of the plot thus far, please consult the Chapter Links before reading.

by kinkys_sis and kinkychic

The Chase

John Rudge worked quickly. The documentation was drawn up with impressive haste, and by the evening of the following day, the staff and workers had been told of the change in circumstances. Everyone appeared delighted with Josh’s promotion. Overseer in Absentia seemed to him to be a grand title. What delighted him most, though, was when Marianna announced that he and his family, which included his daughter Daphne, should move into the main house. The house staff would carry on in their jobs as if nothing had changed.

The next morning, Marianna called everyone together to say her farewells. I could sense her mixed emotions – sadness of leaving her home, yet joy at the prospect of the life ahead. She would take little with her – a few clothes, a brace of pistols, a pair of rapiers, a cavalry sword that had belonged to her father, and finally, her painting of me.

While we were still gathered, I heard the unmistakable sound of a horse galloping towards the plantation. It turned out to be one of John’s workers. He flung himself from the horse, gasping for breath as he blurted out, “There is a British frigate in the harbour. They are asking about the Siren. We do not know what they may have been told, but Mr John says you are not safe here, miss.”

“Captain.”

“Miss Captain.”

It was alarming news, but there was yet more. “Your ship has been sighted to the north of the island,” the messenger said. “She is not alone, there is another ship with her. Mr John signalled your ship, and they sent a boat in. They are waiting for you there.”

I turned to Marianna. “We had best be moving, and quickly. Hornigold might be out searching around the islands.”

Her last words to Josh were, “Look after my property, boss. Keep it safe until I return.” She gently touched his cheek. “I would kiss you, my friend, but you and I know it would be quite scandalous.”

She then turned to Daphne, speaking quietly so that no one else could hear. “We shall not forget you. You brought us pleasure. I would wish you every happiness. Find someone of your own to love – you will make her a wonderful companion.”

***

We saw the Siren as soon as we crested the hill. She was anchored quite close in. The other ship lay further out, and I had no idea who it might be.

Davy was waiting on the beach, waving frantically for us to hurry. We were soon aboard the cutter, surging through the surf towards the Siren.

“Who’s that with us, Davy?” I asked.

“’Tis the Ranger… Charles Vane an’ Calico Jack. Be wantin’ to stay with us until we gets well away from ’ere.”

It would be good to see Jack again. Vane I knew only by reputation – and it was a most unsavoury one. I could not imagine what had brought the two of them together.

For the moment, though, I still had another worry. Had the crew fully accepted that Marianna would come aboard? But the cheers that I heard from the men as we approached were a most welcome sound. It seemed I had nothing to worry about in that regard.

Marianna waved away the chair the deckhands lowered for her. “It was agreed, was it not? I am to be treated no differently than any other.” With that, she took hold of the swinging ladder and hauled herself nimbly over the rail.

It was good once more to feel the Siren’s deck beneath my feet. I asked Davy to see Marianna below, then attended to our situation. The first order of business was to haul anchor and bring the Siren to within hailing distance of the Ranger. Next was the first mate’s report. As we were gathering headway, I asked how the ships had come to be in consort.

“We were rounding the headland of one of the outer islands when we saw her beating towards us,” Jensen said. “I knew it was the Ranger that I had last seen in New Providence. We could also see another ship about three or four miles astern of her. By the cut of the Ranger’s sails, I knew it was a chase. Running like that could only mean trouble. So I tacked fast and fell in with her.” He went on to tell me that he had recognised Calico Jack, but hadn’t at first known who the other person was, only that he seemed to be acting as captain.

They had successfully evaded the pursuing vessel by running through the shallower channels between the islands, finally anchoring in a small bay in the hope that the other ship would give up – which it appeared to have done. There had been no further sighting of her.

Charles Vane was indeed the captain of the Ranger. The ship had been at New Providence when a large force had attacked, both with ships’ cannon and many marines. Several of the pirate ships had surrendered once they saw the force arrayed against them. Others had fought, suffering much damage and loss of life in the process. It had been chaos. Rackham had fled with Vane to the Ranger, which had managed to make good its escape.

Vane had suggested that he stay with the Siren until her captain was back aboard. The two ships’ combined firepower might be sufficient to deter their hunters.

“One thing I did notice though, Captain,” the mate concluded. “Rackham and Vane clearly are not the best of friends. They seem to disagree on almost everything.”

This hardly came as a surprise. Charles Vane was infamous for his extreme cruelty, often sinking ships with the crew still aboard or a shipment of slaves in the hold after he had taken what he wanted. I wasn’t at all keen on being in league with him. Rackham, on the other hand, was a most amiable fellow, fair to his crew and merciful to his enemies.

We were the larger vessel and better gunned than the Ranger, so, Vane, together with Rackham, paid his respects aboard the Siren. I was somewhat disconcerted to see that Anne Bonny was with them.

Calico Jack looked puzzled as he walked towards me. “I do believe we’ve met before. Wait… you can’t be… you’re the young one that put a sword to my throat. And now here you are. So you’re the famous Captain Bren!” He gave me a bow, “At your service, ma’am.”

Vane, on the other hand, looked amused. “I’d heard the Siren was captained by a woman. But you… you’re just a child.” He glanced at my crew. “What kind of men are you that has a female child leading them?”

I saw the crew stiffen, several reaching for their weapons. Jensen spoke up first. “I should be careful what you say, Mr Vane. You’re a guest aboard the Siren. A little respect might be in order.”

Vane seemed to consider as he glared at the mate, but settled on discretion. “As you say.” He turned to me. “Hornigold may have three or more ships looking for me, but they have split up as they search the different islands. We have no idea where they are.”

So it was an all-out venture to hunt us down. I told Vane about the British frigate on the other side of the island. For one with such a fearsome reputation, I was surprised at how worried he looked.

I thought of our options. Either we could try and hide among the islands, or we could make a run for open waters and hope we weren’t spotted – at least not by the frigate. The Ranger mounted fourteen guns, none very large. We had twenty, but the frigate would be carrying at least twenty-eight. It would be nearly an even match, but we would undoubtedly suffer considerable damage. The one thing we would have in our favour was the Siren’s single twelve-pounder – the very gun we had commandeered the day I first laid eyes on Marianna. Neither the frigate nor any of the other ships would be expecting it.

I didn’t much care for the idea of us getting trapped in a bay or channel by three or four ships. If there was to be a fight, then open waters would give us a better chance of escape.

“We will sail for Antigua,” I decided. “You’re welcome to join us, Vane, but I want one thing understood. If we are intercepted, you will follow my orders. We must act as one force, and that won’t work if each does as he will.”

I thought Vane would explode, but Rackham intervened. “The captain talks sense, Charles. May I suggest we do as she says, for now at least.”

Vane, who still looked like thunder, replied grudgingly, “I hope you know what you’re doing, but be warned, the moment I see any hesitation or what I consider an error of judgement, you’re on your own.”

Whilst the officers were gamming in this way, I had failed to notice that Marianna had come back on deck. It was only as Vane and Rackham turned to leave that I saw the hostile look she was giving Anne. A woman’s instinct must have told her that here was the one I had dallied with. It was Anne who cut through the ice. “You’re a lucky one, that you are, my beauty,’ she said. “An’ you looks like you’ll suit the captain just fine. I knew someone had her heart, and now I see why. God bless you both.”

With that, she offered her hand. I choked at the brazenness of the gesture, and at the steel in my lover’s eyes. I braced for a display of Latin fireworks, but after a moment of stern contemplation, Marianna’s resolve crumbled, and the women fell into one another’s arms.

“Thank you,” Marianna said. “I’m glad I met you, or I might have always wondered.”

It was a stiffening breeze that sped us away from the island. We sailed fairly close, thus reducing our chances of being spotted. The Ranger was off our port side.

Barely half an hour had elapsed when the top lookout shouted. “Sail, starboard beam!” A short pause, then: “Three-master, and she’s heading to intercept!”

The frigate! Having a much taller mainmast, she had spotted us first. The chase was on – a chase we had no chance of winning.

I brought the Siren to within hailing distance of the Ranger. “We cannot outrun her,” I called. “If we stay on this course, she will have all the choices as she gets near, and we shall be reacting to whatever her captain decides, besides being at the mercy of her bow chaser – she could do us a lot of damage with that! I suggest we reduce speed, let her think she is catching us. When I give the signal by dipping our colours, we will each tack and reverse course. Perhaps we shall take her by surprise and sweep down each side of her. She will be beating into the wind. We shall be running before it and double our speed towards her.”

Vane came straight back: “But that’s suicide against a frigate! You’re mad…”

“Vane, you are likely unaware, but I have a twelve-pounder and four eights. The frigate will also be unaware. She will get quite a shock when we open fire. You will maintain sufficient distance from her so as you are able to fire low. Aim for her gun ports. We don’t want our own shot hitting each other.”

A curious scene played out on the deck of the Ranger. A furious argument broke out between Rackham and Vane, and as it continued, the crew began lining up behind Rackham. There was clearly some sort of a showdown taking place.

Minutes later her sails slackened. Clearly, it was Rackham giving the orders. Vane, it seemed, had been overthrown.

Marianna stood behind me as we watched the frigate draw closer. I couldn’t keep myself from worrying about her being on deck as we went into action. But I knew there was no choice. She had to be seen facing the danger along with everyone else. I marvelled at her appearance, every inch the pirate. Like me, she wore two pistols, with a short dagger tucked in her belt and her father’s cavalry sword held loosely at her side. Her beautiful hair was hidden beneath a headscarf.

Our two ships were still running fairly close to each other. I saw Jack raise his hat to me. I sensed the bugger was enjoying his new command and the prospect of the coming battle.

 

There was a loud crack. The frigate had fired her bow chaser at us, no doubt an order for us to haul in our sails. The shot whistled harmlessly overhead, hitting nothing. He had just played into my hands. He would think we were about to shorten sail and obey his threat when I sent the crew scurrying about the ropes.

A glance told me that Rackham was watching, waiting for my signal. I yelled to Davy, “Dip the flag, Bosun.” I had already told the men they had to tack faster than they had ever done before.

Ranger heeled hard over as she began her turn. A sudden, one-hundred-eighty-degree turn is not an easy manoeuvre. Sail and rope handlers have to be expert at their jobs lest an awful muddle ensue. The Siren heeled the opposite way. The crack of flapping sails sounded like pistol shots. Then we were turning, and now we had to hope we didn’t end up in irons with sails flapping uselessly. That would put us at the mercy of the enemy.

The Siren once again caught the wind, her sails snapped taut, and we flew straight towards the frigate. We were faster than the Ranger, and I prayed we didn’t pull too far ahead. But, even at this distance, I could see Jack gesticulating furiously. The Ranger clearly increased her speed.

Our bow chaser was loaded with chain shot. I hoped Jack’s was as well. I hadn’t thought to tell him. He was watching and waiting for my signal. I waved my cutlass high, before counting to five. “Fire!” I yelled. Both cannons boomed in unison.

Within a heartbeat, I saw the chaos on the frigate’s deck. Men red with blood staggered about. Sails flapped loose where ropes had been severed. The moment of truth was fast approaching.

Our guns had orders to fire the moment they came to bear. The first eight-pounder roared, followed rapidly by the next. It was like a tremendous roll of thunder as gun after gun fired, both ours and the Ranger’s.

The Siren took a massive blow, reeling with the impact. I turned and went to drag Marianna low, but she had already ducked down. Our starboard gunwale exploded, sending lethal slivers of wood flying in all directions. A severed stay flew past my head, cutting one man in half where he stood.

We passed the frigate’s stern. We were clear. A glance told me that Marianna was unharmed before I searched for the Ranger through the billowing smoke. She looked to have taken a lot of damage. Her foremast hung over the side, dragging in the water.

My men acted quickly. Some tended to the wounded, others rushed to get the sails back under control. Rope handlers scurried up the shrouds, pulling fresh lines aloft. We appeared to have got off relatively lightly.

The first mate drew my attention astern. The frigate was already low in the water, and she was sinking fast. The gun captain had done his job well. I had told him to aim the twelve-pounder below our opponent’s waterline. From a range of barely a hundred feet, our shot had smashed through her side.

Marianna assisted the surgeon. She looked badly shaken, but still, she did her part. It hadn’t occurred to me that she had never witnessed the horrors of an engagement at sea. The sight of the dead and the severed limbs could have unnerved anyone.

We turned back and headed for the frigate. Her flag came down as we approached. I ordered the cutters, which were being towed astern, hauled back to the ship. In battle, they were not kept on deck. They would be in the way. Even worse would be the flying splinters if they got hit.

Davy took charge of the rescue mission, picking up the half-drowned navy tars. Others reached the safety of the scramble nets we had dropped down our port side. The frigate didn’t appear to have any boats of her own in the water. They must have been blown to bits.

Our wounded were now all below with the surgeon and Marianna. The dead had been moved aside and covered over. Jensen produced a barrel of rum for mugs to be passed around. I went to survey what damage we had sustained.

The carpenter informed me the damage below decks was fairly light. Only one gun port had taken a direct hit. We had lost one four-pounder, along with the gun crew of four. Other damage was superficial. My ruse had indeed caught the frigate’s captain unawares. She had fired on us, but not in any coordinated manner.

Their captain was dead. The first officer offered me his sword, although it clearly troubled him to be surrendering to a woman.

“Give your oath that there will be no trouble from your men,” I told him. “Then they will be well treated, and the injured will be seen to. I shall deliver your men ashore as soon as it is safe to do so.”

He was obviously surprised. No doubt he knew that Charles Vane would have seen them all dead. In fact, Vane would not have rescued any in the first place. He would have simply sailed away, laughing at their plight as they drowned. The thought reminded me, I was still puzzled as to what had transpired aboard the Ranger.

***

An hour later, we were seated in my cabin. The cook had prepared a hasty meal, but at least it was fresh chicken and vegetables.

Captain Calico Jack was looking rather pleased with himself. “I must say, Captain. It was a fine plan and perfectly executed. Who’d have thought that we could sink a frigate? The king will be mightily irate with us, don’t you think?” He took another swig of his wine.

In answer to my question, he explained how the men of the Ranger had thought my plan was their best option, given the circumstances. Vane had wanted to run, saying they couldn’t take on a frigate. The crew turned against him. A hasty vote branded Vane a coward, and he was ousted. Rackham was unanimously voted as his replacement.

Marianna looked drawn and tired. Her baptism of fire had been a horrifying experience. We had lost eighteen men, the Ranger, twenty-six. But the frigate had fared far worse. One hundred and six had perished, and more would likely succumb to their wounds.

Jack returned to the Ranger. We would remain with her at least until we anchored in Antigua. We needed to seriously consider our future, as Britain would now be out for our blood. It might be that the West Indies were becoming too dangerous for us. Perhaps the great age of piracy was coming to an end.

Alone at last, I took Marianna in my arms. There was no need for words. I simply held her tight.

It was an age before she spoke. “I’m alright, my love. I’m not sure what I expected of a battle. Dead, yes, but so many, and so suddenly. Then I found I drew strength from helping the wounded. The surgeon was ready to send me away, but I insisted he let me help. I intend to ask him to teach me … with your permission, of course.”

She paused, looking searchingly into my face. “Yes, I can still see it,” she went on. “There is a fire in your eyes. I saw how intense it was, almost frightening when we were about to engage the English. I, too, felt it. I cannot find the right words to explain. Perhaps exhilarating, almost – arousing.”

I smiled with relief. It had long concerned me that I experienced such feelings at the prospect of battle. That Marianna did, too, was vindication in a way. “So, my love,” she said. “Do you not think it would be a pity to let this arousal go to waste?”

A fleeting understanding crossed my mind of why Anne Bonny fucked as hard as she did. To the survivor, danger is a spur to passion. Release follows terror, producing an exaltation greater than either, which in Marianna’s case unleashed a wildcat. She mashed her lips against mine. She tore at my clothes. For a grand length of time, we rolled and tussled on my cot in naked abandon. There was fire in her eyes as well as my own, a fire I had not seen before. She even snarled as she brought me to climax, her fingers filling and ramming my cunt. She had to shake herself to calm down.

When release was at last complete, we lay clasped in each other’s arms, lazily recovering our senses. Marianna looked up at me, and seeing the silly, satisfied grin on my face, she said, “Mi querida capitana, do you know how much I love you?”

***

The bosom of the sea rose in gentle swells. The wind drove us swiftly towards our destination. The crew were in high spirits, having put their dead comrades out of their minds, as this was the life we led. I ordered a double ration of rum. The fiddler was already composing a ditty to recount our victory.

Marianna and I went up on deck to catch the evening air. The bosun called for quiet. One man stepped forward. “With your permission, Captain. I am elected to speak.” I nodded my assent. “Today you led us into a battle we thought we would lose, but we followed you. We trusted you, and you won us a victory we thought was impossible. We defied the king’s navy. We sank the fucker… er, begging your pardon, Miss Mary.”

He paused for the bosun to speak. “Let’s be ’earin’ it lads, a roar for the cap’ain!” The noise carried across the water to the Ranger, whose crew replied in kind.

The fiddler struck up a lively tune. He called it The Siren’s Reel, and it soon had the crew clapping and capering about. They pressed in upon Marianna and me, whooping like excited children and calling on us to lead the dance. We had no choice but to oblige. Marianna offered her hand. I took it, and, standing shoulder to shoulder, beaming at one another, we stepped lightly in a fixed circle – the Queen of the Pirates with a queen of my own.

For the moment, we were happy, and we were free. We were also homeless, stateless fugitives. What our next port of call would be, after we had set the frigate’s crew ashore, was a secret known only to heaven.

The End… for now

Historical note: A short time later, Charles Vane, now with another ship, was shipwrecked on an uninhabited island, where he was rescued but recognized. He was taken to Port Royal, Jamaica, and eventually hanged.

Jack (Calico Jack) Rackham, along with Mary Read and Anne Bonny, was also arrested when his ship was trapped in a bay. He was also hanged at Port Royal.

Mary Read died in prison. Anne Bonny’s fate is unknown and has been the subject of much speculation.

***

Afterword from kinkychic:

My sister and I both enjoy seafaring stories, and have books of them from a number of authors.

I wanted to weave some eroticism into a rollicking adventure, and pirates seemed the obvious choice. To test the water (!), I wrote the tavern scene first and asked Eloquent Delinquent what he thought of it as the basis for a story. He enthused over the chapter.

Encouraged, I wrote Chapter One… but then my private circumstances changed, and I seemed to lose the will to write.

Sis acquired DVDs of the complete TV series Black Sails. She got so immersed in the subject that she asked if she could carry on with the story, and soon we were working together. I was reinvigorated, so to speak.

I don’t believe we have ever put so much time into researching our subject. Authenticity was of the utmost importance.

We submitted the story to Juicy Secrets. JetBoy gave it an enthusiastic thumbs-up and passed it (with our blessing) to Jacqueline Jillinghoff for editing. Now came the surprise. She actually owned a copy of the book Under The Black Flag, so not only could she edit, but also raise factual queries.

The fact that she was already enthusiastic about the subject of pirates was the added bonus. An astonishing coincidence!

Between us, I believe we have produced something worthy of being classed as one of the best things we ever wrote.

by Rachael Yukey

A siren howled. Pine forest on either side of the narrow gravel road embraced the ambulance as it decelerated hard before taking the sharp curve. Shadows cast by the headlights on this moonless night gave the woods an eerie, haunted quality.

In the passenger seat, I was lacing up my boots. Terry and I had been asleep in his bed when the pager sounded just after two AM. Accelerating out of the curve, Terry swore under his breath as the tires skated a bit on the soft macadam.

“I don’t miss much about LA, but goddamn it, I do miss all of the friggin’ roads being paved,” he said, pushing the rig up to around 45 MPH — as fast as he dared on this murderous stretch.

I could think of nothing to say. My boots securely laced, I popped open the laptop and began creating a new incident.

“What are the odds?” Terry was saying. “What are the fucking odds? A second call for a teenage kid in less than forty-eight hours? Jesus Christ.”

The dispatch had given us little to go on. Seventeen-year-old female, behaving abnormally, possible overdose. Officers were en route.

The radio squawked. “Franklin County to Bronning Ambulance.” Speaking of dispatch —

I plucked the mic from its clip. “Go for Bronning.”

“County deputies are on scene; they report a female semi-responsive and having convulsions. No signs of drug paraphernalia on scene, patient’s mother states that the patient came home acting strangely. Officers would like to know your ETA.”

I glanced out the window and considered. Our destination was on the outside edge of the Bronning Ambulance service area, in a little town called Roers.

“About five minutes,” I replied.

Terry made a right turn onto a recently repaved stretch of blacktop. The smooth whine of the turbo kicking in made for an almost harmonious counterpoint with the siren as he rapidly accelerated. He pegged the speedometer at just over eighty.

“You thinking meth?” he asked.

“Could be. Could be a bunch of other stuff, too.”

The rig crested a slight rise, and a dim glow appeared in the distance. Roers, a wide spot in the road masquerading as a town, boasted a grand total of three streetlamps. As we pulled into town, braking hard, I caught a glimpse of flashing lights down a side street.

“Take the next right,” I told Terry, shutting down the GPS and stuffing my phone into a sweatshirt pocket. Rounding the corner, we pulled up in front of a white house with two County Sheriff’s Department cruisers parked out front. Roers isn’t big enough to rate its own police force.

“Bronning Ambulance to Franklin,” I said into the mic. “On scene.”

As we hustled across the front lawn, I sized the place up with the automatic ease of long practice. A very old house, possibly a century or more, but with recent siding, a good roof, and a well-kept yard. Not your typical overdose scene. A sheriff’s deputy awaited us on the front porch. Cindy Koep.

“She’s in the living room,” Cindy informed us. “She’ll get all animated and start convulsing and chattering a lot of nonsense, then she’ll go almost unconscious. It’s happened twice since I got here.”

The living room was organized, clean, and full of relatively modern furniture. The only people present were a second sheriff’s deputy, and a woman in her late thirties with puffy eyes who was wearing a bathrobe. What it lacked was a teenage girl.

“She ran into the bathroom and locked it about a minute ago,” the deputy in the room informed us, jerking his thumb toward a closed door. “When I knock or call to her, she just laughs at me. We might have to break it down.”

Terry crossed the room, dropped the red bag he was carrying, and examined the doorknob. Shaking his head, he plunged a hand into the pocket of his chinos, coming up with a quarter, which he inserted into the groove at the center of the knob. The deputy who’d suggested smashing the door had the good grace to look embarrassed.

“What’s her name?” Terry asked the woman in the bathrobe.

“Samantha. We call her Sam.” The voice was high-pitched and shaky.

“Sam,” Terry called through the door. “I’m with the ambulance, and we want to make sure you’re okay. We’re going to open this door and come in now. Is that all right?”

The only response was a muted giggle. Terry twisted the quarter in the groove, and the male deputy stepped up alongside of him. Terry pushed the door open.

The girl was sprawled out on the floor, naked from head to toe, her clothing tossed carelessly in all directions. Pretty girl; athlete’s body. I recognized her as a student at the Bronning K-12.

She raised her head from the throw rug in front of the toilet, and a huge grin split her face, revealing perfect white teeth.

“Are we having a party?” she said, her voice exuberant. Then her head snapped back, and her limbs began to convulse. There was a strangled gurgling sound. Terry was alongside of the girl in an instant, squeezing himself into the narrow space and rolling her onto her side. White foam dripped from the mouth. Terry’s a great EMT partner on a critical call; he instinctively understands what his role is and doesn’t need his hand held.

I had the narcotics box in one hand. Snatching up the first-in bag with the other, I followed him into the bathroom. I perched myself on the edge of the tub, prying open the narc box as I did so. Terry was already unzipping the first-in bag with one hand, using the other to prevent the young woman from smashing her head against the toilet.

“Her airway’s clear,” he said. “I’m going to grab a blood sugar and some vitals, unless you want me to do something else first,”

“Perfect,” I replied.

As I drew a sedative into my syringe, I called out to the two cops in the living room. “Can you guys get our cot out of the rig and… do you know what a scoop stretcher is?”

“I’ll get the scoop stretcher,” said a familiar voice.

Terry and I both looked up in surprise. George Fronse was standing in the bathroom doorway, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. It wasn’t unusual for the small-town cops in the area to slip a little out of their jurisdictions to assist sheriff’s deputies, but I’d never seen George come this far afield before.

George headed outside with the two deputies, and I plunged a needle into the girl’s upper arm. Observing with satisfaction that Terry was getting a blood sugar reading and had the portable pulse oximeter clipped to a finger, I glanced up at the doorway. Sam’s distraught mother stood there, hands on the doorframe as if on the verge of collapse.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “your name is…?”

“June.”

“Does Sam take any medications on a regular basis, June?”

“No.”

“Allergies that you know of?”

“N… no.”

“Anything like this ever happen before?”

“Never.”

“Do you know where she was before she came home?”

June shook her head. “No idea. I didn’t know she was still out until I heard her come in and fall down. She went out to meet up with some friends in Bronning, but she was supposed to be home hours ago.” The woman’s voice was edging upwards in pitch, and she was starting to seem a little unhinged.

Give her a job to do. “Can you get us a blanket or something to throw over her?”

The convulsions died away as the sedative kicked in. Terry rolled the girl onto her back, peering into her mouth as he did so. Sam groaned and tried to twist her head away, but her strength seemed to have deserted her. Her eyelids fluttered. I wrapped a rubber tourniquet around the upper arm and poked around for an IV site.

“She’s tachy,” said Terry. “Pulse around 140. Everything else I’ve checked is pretty normal except that her pupils are pinpoint. She’s protecting her own pipes for the moment, but I have a nasal airway ready.”

I taped the IV and saline lock to the arm as Terry covered the girl with a blanket supplied by her mother, then took a moment to consider my options. The pinpoint pupils screamed opioid overdose, but that didn’t quite gel with the rest of what I was seeing. Terry was taking a blood pressure. Might as well see what he gets before we go nuts here.

I became aware of people in the doorway. George was holding the scoop stretcher, the two deputies hovering right behind him.

“Pressure is 78 over 40,” Terry said, his voice pensive. “Some kind of distributive shock, maybe? I move that we load.”

“Motion carried,” I said.

The scoop stretcher is a nifty contraption that splits in the middle so you can slip it under the patient from either side; ideal for narrow spaces like this bathroom. Sam seemed almost comatose as we lifted her with the device, carried her to the cot, and strapped her down. While Terry and George were securing the straps, I started a bag of fluids and hung it on the cot’s collapsible pole. As the cot was shoved into the back of the ambulance, Sam’s head lifted off the pillow.

“What the FUCK?” she howled. “What the hell kind of party is this? Why am I tied to the bed, you sick bastards?”

I hauled myself into the rig through the back door, switching the monitor on while still in motion. Sam’s mother, still in her bathrobe, tried to climb in behind me. Terry gently took her by the shoulders.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he said. “We’ll need you to wait out here. We’ll be a few minutes getting her on the monitor, and then we’ll be on our way.”

“You mean I c-can’t ride with her?” The woman’s voice was jagged, her eyes deranged. She was visibly trembling.

“You can, but it would have to be in the front. If you can drive yourself, that’d be better. Then you’d have a way to get home.”

She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, then turned on her heel and stormed into the house. Terry climbed in, slamming the door behind him. I drew meds up into three syringes, labeling them as I went. Terry got Sam, who was still raving, hooked up to the monitor.

“Sam,” I said, “can you tell me what happened tonight?”

“Nothing. Nothing is what happened… oh my God!”

I looked up. Terry was adhering ECG electrodes just below Sam’s left breast.

“Is this guy grabbing my tits?” the girl yelled. “Is that what’s happening right now?”

She began to convulse again, but this time I was ready. Selecting one of the preloaded syringes, I attached it to the line and pushed the med. The convulsions slowed a few seconds later, and the girl’s head dropped to the pillow.

“To hell with this… any reason I shouldn’t put a nasal in?” said Terry.

“Go for it. I’m going to try and maintain roughly this level of sedation, since every time she comes around she starts seizing. It’s going to be a balancing act; I don’t want to push her so far under that I have to intubate. I’m toying with the idea of throwing some Narcan at her.”

Terry’s eyes narrowed as he slid a rubber tube into the girl’s right nostril. “Do you actually think it’s opioids?”

“Not really, but I also don’t know what the hell it is, and her pupils are pinpoint. It won’t hurt, and it might help.”

Terry sat back in the jump seat, shaking his head. “She’s tripping balls, but the symptoms are all mixed up. What the fuck?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve never seen anything like it, even with mixed narcotics. Let’s get moving. Run hot to Melville.”

“All right,” he said. “Give me a yell if you need anything.” Stripping off his gloves, Terry exited the box through the side door.

The front door slammed, the siren sounded, and I turned my attention back to the semi-comatose young woman before me. As the ambulance eased into motion — glad Terry knows better than to floor it — I studied the monitor. The fluid bolus wasn’t helping; the blood pressure had gone down, not up. Despite the sedative, the girl’s heart was racing.

I pulled my sweatshirt over my head and tossed it into the jump seat, wishing for a moment that I was at work, where I have more meds at my disposal. On the Bronning truck, anything I’ve got for a fast blood pressure boost would also accelerate the already racing heart. The fluid bag ran out; I replaced it with another. The next blood pressure I took was even lower than before. Damn it; no choice.

Moving quickly, I selected two more vials from the med box. The ambulance hit a pothole, and one of them flew from the bench seat and onto the floor, lodging itself beneath the cot. Oh. Shit. Icy fingers gripped my heart. Of course it’s the goddamn Adenosine that hit the deck; it’s the only thing I don’t have another vial of. Cursing the depleted supply budget, I scrabbled around blindly, giving silent thanks when my fingers closed around the tiny bottle.

Returning to my seat, I drew up both meds, putting one aside. That’s to fix what the first one might do to you. Sorry, sweetheart.

I diluted the Epinephrine in some saline, then pushed a small amount of the mixture, keeping one eye on the monitor. My heart sank. I’d seen Epi increase the heart rate before, but never to this extent. The cardiac rhythm on the monitor was changing from a fast version of normal to something a bit more terrifying.

I hit the button on the monitor to take another blood pressure. While waiting for it, I attached my second syringe to the medication port on the drip set, wrapping my other hand firmly around the fluid bag. The trouble with Adenosine is you have to push it fast, and chase it with something else to get it to the heart before it loses its potency.

The new blood pressure reading came up. It was lower than I would have liked, but out of the danger zone. The heart rate, on the other hand, was spiking as high as 200 beats per minute. Fuck my life.

I slammed the plunger on the syringe as hard as I could with my right-hand thumb, squeezing the fluid bag with my left hand to push the med in faster. My eyes were glued to the monitor. The ECG waveform scrambled itself for a second, then realigned – to exactly what it had been before.

“Fuck,” I murmured. Protocols suggest trying a second dose of Adenosine, but thanks to the broke-ass supply budget, I didn’t have any more. Even as the thought flashed through my mind, I was reaching across Sam’s semi-comatose body, yanking down the saddlebag zipper on the right side of the monitor and pulling out the defibrillator patches.

I fumbled with the adhesive backing, cursing my lack of fingernails, and stuck them onto the girl’s chest. Sam groaned, muttered something unintelligible, and tried to lift her head. I switched the monitor to defibrillate and hit the sync button, then snatched up one of the syringes that I’d preloaded before we took off. Here’s a little more sedation, hon… believe me, you don’t want to feel any part of what I’m about to hit you with.

As the monitor charged, I cast my eyes around the ambulance, running a fast mental checklist. Any gods out there, if you feel like throwing me a bone so I don’t have to do this, now’s the time.

I turned my eyes back to the monitor, let out a heavy sigh, and hit the big red shock button. Sam’s body convulsed, and despite the sedation a wail escaped her lips. Almost immediately the heart rhythm on the monitor transformed itself into something more sane, with a rate much closer to normal.

I sat back, my body coated in sweat. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I registered that the ambulance was slowing, pinpricks of light visible through the tiny windows. Melville… thank the gods.

Mopping my brow with a hand towel, I shifted myself to the captain’s chair at the head of the cot, plucked the radio mic from its clip, and called the hospital.

***

“What did the doc say?” asked Terry as he eased the ambulance into a broad curve. Getting back to Bronning from Melville is a thirty minute straight shot down a decent stretch of state highway; a far cry from the crappy country roads we’d taken to get to Roers.

I took a sip of the orange juice Terry had bought for me on the way out of town.

“Not much,” I said. “He wasn’t sure what it was, either. He’s going to fax a copy of the labs and tox screen to the station when he gets them – maybe that’ll shed some light.”

“You had the defib patches on her chest,” he said. “Did you girls have a fun game of truth or dare, or did shit get real in the back?”

“I cardioverted her.”

“Holy shit.”

I took another sip of my juice, chewing the inside of my cheek as I studied the ECG rhythm strip in my hand.

“I know, right? I’ve never had to do it to anyone that young before. Not even close. But I had to push epi to fix her blood pressure, and that sped her heart up and pushed her into SVT. I hit her with some Adenosine, it didn’t work, so I zapped her.”

“Jesus.”

We rode in silence for awhile. My fingers beat a furious rhythm on the laptop, polishing off the narrative section of my report. Terry munched on one of the cookies he’d picked up at the 24-hour Holiday station in Melville, taking slugs of coffee in between.

Finally, he said what both of us had been thinking. “Have you ever seen Fronse drive that far to assist the county mounties?”

I held up a finger, typed two more sentences, then closed the laptop and looked at him across the console.

“I’ve been a volunteer in this town for seven years,” I said, “and George has been police chief the entire time. I’ve never seen him go more than three or four miles outside the township on an assist before. This was more like eight, and it was just a teenage girl tripping out. Yeah, I was surprised.”

Terry restlessly tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. The ambulance rounded another bend, and the lights of our hometown could be seen a few miles in the distance.

Terry picked up the mic. “Bronning Ambulance to Franklin — we’re back in service.” He glanced over at me.

“Maybe,” he said, “because it was a suspected OD, and everyone knows this little stretch of Nowheresville is a motherfucking hotbed of gang activity, our boy George figured the delicate flowers comprising the Sheriff’s Department needed their hands held by a big strong man like himself. You know, so they didn’t go crying to their mommies when they got chased out of the yard by mutant zombie chickens packing shivs and wearing juvie colors?”

I had chosen to take a sip at exactly the wrong moment, and when I snorted laughter, orange juice shot painfully into my nasal cavities and began dribbling from my nose. When Terry says things like this, it isn’t so much what he says. It’s the way he says it.

“Jesus,” I said, pawing around on the console for the box of tissues. “you did that on purpose.”

“I wish I’d done it on purpose.”

Suddenly we were both laughing.

***

Terry was already asleep. Pressed close to him in the dark, wearing one of his T-shirts and an old yellow pair of his sweatpants, I hoped that I would be able to drop off quickly. It was a little after four. Terry had left a note for Halee on the counter: find anything for breakfast (and no, that doesn’t mean you can raid the bar), keep an eye on your sisters, do not wake us up for anything less than the discovery of an island made of chocolate pizza. Do try to not light the house on fire; it’s old and dry. Love, The Master of All He Surveys.

I felt myself drifting, and welcomed it. Darkness overtook me.

I sat straight up, a strangled cry escaping my lips. Terry started, rolled onto his back, but didn’t wake. I was trembling all over, bathed in a fine sheen of sweat. Oh Christ no — it really wasn’t a fluke. The dreams are coming back. 

I’d been lucky the last two times; I’d awakened before the worst of it. Not this time. I was already crying.

I looked over at Terry, watching his chest rise and fall as I tried to steady myself. I thanked the gods my scream had not disturbed him. But the next one will, or the one after that.

Tears oozed from beneath my eyelids as the dream replayed itself, and the memory attached to it forced its way to the surface despite my best efforts to keep it at bay. For one insane moment I wanted him to wake up; wanted him to hold me in his arms until the trembling subsided and my heart stopped racing. None of that, girl. Don’t be a fucking sissy.

I slipped from between the sheets and stood, putting weight on the creaky old hardwood as quietly as possible. I can’t let him see me like this. Nobody can see me like this.

Working as quietly as I could in the dark, I gathered my clothes, then shoved my pager and phone into the pockets of Terry’s sweats. I’ll return his stuff tomorrow; right now I just need to get the fuck out of here.

I paused for a moment, peering down at him through a haze of tears. I’m not exactly in love with Terry, but for the first time I realized that aside from being a fantastic lay, he’s far and away the best friend I’ve got. More than that, his house is the only place I feel like I’m at home. Ask yourself this, honey: how many times can you flake on him before he’s finally had enough? But then… maybe it’s better that way. Maybe you need to distance yourself from Halee before you do something irrevocable.

And then I was really crying. Silent tears poured down my cheeks as I reached down and brushed a lock of hair from his sleeping face. I stifled a sob, and that somehow made it worse. Turning on my heel, I slipped out the door, pulling it gently shut behind me.

The river of tears continued to flow as I made my way down the wide front staircase with its hand-carved rails, and I didn’t bother to wipe them away. Remembering that my laptop was in the living room, I altered course. So intent I was on grabbing the damn thing and making my escape that I didn’t notice the dark shape on the couch, or the soft glow of a laptop screen. When the shape looked up and said, “Hey,” I dropped the pile of clothing to the floor, barely stifling a scream.

“Whoa — sorry,” said Halee. “I didn’t mean to scare you. What’s going on?”

“You didn’t see me,” I said. I was surprised and dismayed when the words came out as a choked sob. You’re pathetic, you know that?

Halee sat up straight, swinging her legs off of the couch. “Hey — are you all right?”

Humiliated beyond measure, I squatted down and began hastily gathering up the pile of clothing I’d dropped.

“Fine,” I said, trying with only partial success to steady my voice, “but you didn’t see any of this, okay? What are you doing out here at this hour anyway?”

“I heard you guys come in,” the girl replied, “and I couldn’t get back to sleep after that. It happens sometimes. I come down here because the Wi-Fi in my room sucks. Seriously, what’s wrong? And where are you going?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just forget you saw me, okay?” My voice was still unsteady, but the waterworks had stopped for the moment. Progress, sort of.

“Not likely,” she said. “I kind of feel like we need to talk.”

No, honey, I thought, it’s better if we don’t. The clothing gathered once more in my arms, I rose to my feet.

“In case you missed it, I’m not in a great place right this minute,” I said.

“I can see that. What’s going on, anyway? Did you fight with my dad?”

“Halee — no. He doesn’t know I’m leaving. It’s not about him, or us. Hell, what am I saying? There isn’t any us.”

Halee put her laptop aside and rose in a single smooth motion. Coming around the coffee table, she scooped the armload of clothing from my grasp, dropping it into her dad’s recliner. Then she faced me directly, looking up into my eyes in the moonlit room, her body bare inches from mine. She grasped my hands.

“Do you want there to be?” she demanded. “I mean, with my dad?”

“Halee…”

“Do you?” her voice remained low, but with an urgency that was almost a hiss.

“Halee, I don’t know what you’re…”

She dropped my hands and turned away, tilting her head back to gaze up at the ceiling. “The hell you don’t,” she said in a low, savage tone. “Don’t you think I know what’s going on here? I realized it when you went with us to the Melville pool… what was that, six months ago? We shared a changing room, and I saw the way you were watching me. I still see it, every time you think I’m not looking.”

So there it was. No hiding from my shameful secret any more, at least not with Halee. My mind was in overdrive, trying desperately to sort out how to get out of this with minimum damage done. I stepped past her, rounded the coffee table, and plopped down on the opposite end of the couch from where she’d been sitting. She followed me cautiously, almost hesitantly, then chose to sit next to me on the middle cushion instead of returning to her original spot. She perched on the edge of the couch, looking as if she might take flight at any second. She was eyeing me intently.

“What do you want me to say?” I got out at last. It came out as little more than a whisper. “I’m not a good person, Halee. I’ve been carrying this around for… God, for a long time. I shouldn’t be attracted to girls your age. But I am. If anyone found out, I’d get locked away, and rightly so.”

“Is that the real reason you come here?” she wanted to know. “Because I’m totally confused about what there is with you and Dad, or what you want from him.”

“No,” I told her, “that isn’t why. Hell, sometimes it’s why I stay away. With me and your dad… It’s complicated, Halee. He’s a great guy and I love him to death, but there’s always something standing between us. We don’t work as a couple, and we both know it. So it’s just… casual, you know? That works for us. But then I come over here, and I see you and…” My voice caught in my throat.

Halee smiled mirthlessly. “And Naomi?” she said.

I covered my face with my hands, fighting tears. Finally I found the strength to push on. “Sometimes it gets away from me,” I said. “I dwell on it, and I look at you… well, inappropriately. But Halee… I swear to you, I never intended to act on it. What happened when we were playing cards, that’s the most I’ve ever done, and I’m just sorry I didn’t stop it before I did. I had no right to do that to you, and I promise, I’ll stay away from now on…”

I was crying again. Softly this time, tears tracking slowly down my face. I bent my head low, my long hair falling forward and obscuring my vision.

Then Halee’s palm cupped my chin, lifting my head to face her. None too gently, either. She looked furious.

“You don’t fucking get it, do you?” she snapped. “You’re treating me like a little girl who can’t make up her mind about anything. Do you really not get that I let that happen because I wanted something to happen?”

That brought me up short. Of course, it had been in the back of my mind, but I’d been too entrenched in self-loathing over the whole incident to give it much headspace. But I realized after a moment that it didn’t change anything.

I drew in a steadying breath. “Look,” I said, stubbornly refusing to allow any more tears to fall, “that doesn’t make it right. It isn’t right. I need to stop. And I will, I swear.”

Halee seemed to mull this over. “This is dumb,” she said at last. “It’s like… like taking something little, and making it big. I can go to dinner with you. I can have a Coke with you, or we can go swimming together. Nobody says you’re taking advantage of me if we do that stuff. But if we… we play footsie under the table, I didn’t really want to, because I’m too young and dumb to know what I want, right?”

I met her eyes. “You don’t really think we’re just talking about playing footsie, Halee.” It wasn’t a question.

“Oh, for…” I watched as she visibly got a grip on her anger. “Of course I know that! Didn’t you hear anything I said while we were playing cards?”

She met my eyes, and the anger seemed to melt away. There was something dreamy in her gaze. “You asked me a question that I didn’t get to answer,” she said in a husky whisper. “The answer is yes; I have orgasms. I have one every time I hear the things you do with Dad. And when I… I touch myself, I listen to the sounds you’re making, and pretend I’m the one making you feel that way.”

I was frozen in place. Just who was seducing who here? Despite my emotional turmoil, my body was responding to this little vixen in all the right ways. It didn’t matter; I couldn’t allow it to go on. But Halee was still talking.

“Why is it okay,” she said, anger creeping into her voice once more, “for me to make myself feel that way, but not okay for you to do it for me, or the other way around… just because you’re older? But it’s okay if it’s anyone under eighteen? That doesn’t even make sense.”

I opened my mouth to speak, belatedly realizing I had nothing to say. I was sure there were a hundred good reasons right on the tip of my tongue, but goddamn if I could remember a single one of them.

“I don’t know,” I told her. “I do know that I hate myself every day for feeling this way, and it’d be worse if I acted on it.”

“Would it make a difference if I wanted you to act on it?”

“Do you?” It was a dangerous question, but I seemed powerless to extricate myself from this conversation.

“Yes,” she said. She shifted subtly on the couch, so our knees were touching. I wondered if she had any idea of the effect this was having on me.

“I think I’m like you,” she went on. “I’m not sure if I’m bisexual or just plain gay, but I know I like girls. I want to learn about being with girls, and I want to learn from you. Is that so wrong, when we both know you want the same thing?”

Her hands were on my thighs, and I knew this had gone far enough. Summoning the last shreds of resolve I possessed, I took her hands and moved them to her own lap.

“I’m sorry, Halee,” I said. I could feel the tears welling behind my eyelids.

She glared at me reproachfully. “Fine,” she said. “Whatever. Are you at least going to tell me why you’re running out of here in the middle of the night crying your eyes out? Maybe I can help.”

“I can’t,” I said. “That’s why I’m leaving, because I can’t talk about it, and I didn’t want anyone to see me like this. Can you please just keep this whole thing between us?”

She stared at me incredulously. “I guess, if that’s what you want. Don’t you think it’d be better to let someone help you?”

I stood up. “I have to go.”

Halee said nothing, just sat there on the edge of the couch, staring up at me. And suddenly the tears were flowing again. Not just flowing, gushing. Gathering up my things, I stumbled to the entryway, shoved my feet savagely into my boots, and fled into the night.

On to Chapter Five!

When frequent contributor Karin Halle sent this story my way, I knew we had to run it for our Christmas post. I broke records getting it edited and polished, so you good people could have an extra measure of Yuletide cheer. Thanks to Karin for writing it, to Amanda for posting it, and to all of you for being there to enjoy it. Happy Holidays! Yrs, JetBoy

by Karin Halle

With Christmas Day falling on the next Wednesday, George Helm’s timing could hardly have been worse – or more insensitive.

The Friday before, the accounting firm that employed him had closed down for the season. The next day, mere days before Christmas, George had informed his wife Anita that he was leaving her for a woman he’d met through his job.

His clothes and a few personal possessions had already been packed and put aside in an upstairs closet, ready and waiting for him to make a quick departure.

His announcement led to a major fight, complete with a great deal of shouting. At least there was no violence, other than the throwing of assorted household objects. The noise was, however, sufficiently loud that the neighbours were alarmed, and one of them, acting out of concern, had called the police.

The police appeared on the scene, but determined that no crime had been committed – neither George nor Anita was in danger, and the husband would soon be leaving anyhow. So the officers settled for giving a warning and referring the couple to a marriage counsellor, then they left. Actually, George managed to make his exit before the police did.

The entire shocking scene had by then become a neighbourhood spectacle, and quickly became the focal point of local gossip.

The following day, Anita received a visit from Maureen Carstairs, who lived across the street. She was concerned for Anita and wanted to make sure she was okay. She even invited Anita to join her and the family on Wednesday for Christmas dinner.

Anita assured her neighbour that she was doing well enough, considering her circumstances. “I appreciate the invite, Maureen… but I’d really prefer to have a quiet evening on my own.”

On Christmas Eve, Maureen’s fourteen-year-old daughter Josie came knocking.

“Hi, Ms. Helm,” the girl said when Anita answered the door. “How are you?”

“Doing as well as can be expected,” the woman replied with a shrug. She was wearing sweatpants and a snug t-shirt without a bra. Josie found herself stealing the occasional glance at the woman’s full breasts.

“Y’know, Mum really did mean it when she asked you to come for Christmas dinner, Ms. Helm,” she said.

“I know she did, honey, and I really do appreciate it. But… I’m just not in the mood for celebrating,” Anita patiently explained.

“We always have lots of people – we’re a big family. And they’re really nice… well, most of them.”

“All the more reason not to go, truth be told. I don’t feel very much like socialising either. I’m not even going to visit my parents – it’s just best for me to be on my own right now. You can understand that, I’m sure.”

Josie did understand, so after exchanging a few remarks about nothing much, she went home. Still, she couldn’t help but feel sad for her neighbour. She’s such a beautiful woman, too. Can’t imagine what her husband was thinking, walking out like that.

Early Christmas Day, the Carstairs family began to gather. Josie’s parents each had several siblings, so Josie had quite a few cousins. They were all older than her – some even married, with small children.

Maureen had plenty of help to prepare the dinner, so Josie wasn’t needed in the kitchen. She had no desire to join the clusters of grownups, who were discussing things that didn’t interest her, and she was even less inclined to mingle with the kids, who seemed to be everywhere she turned. The day was hot, house was crowded, it was incredibly noisy, and the atmosphere was quickly becoming stifling. Especially since Josie was the only teenager present.

Her mind kept drifting to Ms. Helm, on her own for the holiday. It’s not right, she told herself. No one should be completely on their own for Christmas. Maybe… maybe I could do something about that. 

In truth, Josie was feeling overwhelmed by the festivities in her own home, suddenly in need of a quiet refuge. Then again, she’d been thinking about how good Ms. Helm had looked in that t-shirt. Wonder what she’s wearing today?

Making a decision, she wandered to the kitchen where her mother and two aunts were busy piling food onto serving plates.

“Mum,” she began, “There’s lots of food, isn’t there? I mean, more than we need. We’ll have heaps left over, won’t we?”

“Yes, honey,” Maureen confirmed.

“So, Mum, I was wondering… wouldn’t it be good if I took some to Ms. Helm? I don’t like the idea of her being there by herself. Not on Christmas. I thought too, that… maybe I could stay over and eat with her. If she’s okay with that, I mean. You wouldn’t mind, would you? Me not being here, I mean. After all, there’s so many people around that nobody will even notice I’m missing!”

Maureen broke into an enormous smile. “I think that’s extremely thoughtful of you, darling. Of course you can!” Fetching a number of plastic storage containers, she began heaping food into them.

Josie left the house shortly after, carrying two shopping bags laden with portions from their holiday feast. No one had noticed her exit through the back door, and she was fairly certain she wouldn’t be missed by anyone. Maybe Uncle Simon, she thought, but I won’t miss him. Always patting me on the leg, touching my arms… She shuddered.

When she knocked on the door of the Helm house, no one answered. She knocked again, loudly, but once again there was no response. She’s got to be here, Josie told herself.  Preparing to go round to the back door, she paused in mid-step upon hearing movement inside the house.

An instant later, the door swung open. “Sorry to make you wait,” Ms. Helm said. “To tell the truth, I was lounging around in my knickers, so I grabbed something to put on.” She touched the lapel of her satin dressing gown.

Josie chose not to comment, but Ms. Helm’s revelation definitely caught her interest. She’d always thought of her neighbour as an attractive woman, and the idea that she wore nothing but panties under the colourful satin robe gave Josie a fluttery feeling in her tummy. She briefly wondered what kind of panties Ms. Helm had on. If she didn’t tie that robe too tightly, maybe I’ll get to see them for myself, she thought.

Suddenly it struck the teen that Ms. Helm was patiently waiting for her to explain why she was there. Omigosh, I’m staring at her like an idiot! It took a few seconds to drag her focus back to the reason for her visit.

“Ms. Helm… I don’t think anybody should be alone on Christmas,” Josie said. Thankfully, she’d rehearsed what she wanted to say on the way over. “I know you said you didn’t want to come to our place, so I thought it might be okay if I came to yours. And look! I’ve brought you dinner!” She held up one of the bags. “Merry Christmas.”

Anita didn’t even try to hide the tears welling in her eyes. “Oh, my goodness… that is so kind of you! I can’t say no this time, can I?” She beamed at the teenager. “Come in, please. And, and Merry Christmas to you, Josie.”

That smile touched Josie in an unexpected way. She’d always thought of Ms. Helm as pretty, but the way her face was lit up now took the woman to a whole new realm of beauty. The sight made her feel warm all over.

Following her neighbour inside, Josie mused, I wonder what it would be like to kiss her, then nearly gasped out loud. You shouldn’t think that! she admonished herself. But Pandora’s box had been opened, the idea planted in her head… and now Ms. Helm was giving her that smile again.

Thinking back, Josie realised that Ms. Helm hadn’t looked so happy, or so young, in quite a long while. Months, in fact. I guess she really was having marriage problems.

With the tension replaced by that dazzling smile and those laughing eyes, the years seemed to have melted from Ms. Helm’s face. As they made their way into the kitchen, Josie tried to work out how old the woman was. Let’s see. Mum’s forty-two and Ms. Helm… what, about ten years younger than that? So she’ll be in her early thirties, then.

Delving into the two bags, she took the containers out and opened them on the dining room table. Meanwhile, Anita set out plates and cutlery, then got a bottle of sparkling wine from the fridge, along with two glasses.

“So, what’s on the menu, Josie?”

“Everything!” the teen proudly announced. “Three cold roasted meats – beef, pork and lamb – plus potato salad and coleslaw. There’s hot stuff too: vegetables, baked bread and sausages. Um, let’s see – tomatoes, lettuce, fruit… and there’s two desserts: pumpkin pie and a chocolate cake roll.”

Anita had to laugh. “Goodness me! How many will be joining us tonight?”

Josie took in the sheer size of their feast, then turned to Anita with a shy grin. “Well, you’ll have plenty of leftovers for tomorrow.”

“Then you’ll have to come over tomorrow too, and help me eat them.” As Anita spoke, she opened the wine and filled the glasses, then set one before her guest.

“Mum doesn’t let me have a full glass,” Josie explained. “You know, because I’m fourteen.”

“Okay,” Anita said thoughtfully, “But what do you think? Can you handle a full glass?”

The teenager beamed. “Yes, I can, Ms. Helm. Thank you.”

“Doing all this for me proves that you’re not a child, so if you say it’s okay with you, it’s fine by me.”

“Thank you for treating me like a grown up, Ms. Helm.”

“Oh, and Josie… it’s not Helm any more. I won’t be using that name again. I’m going back to my maiden name, Tobin. You’ll be the first one to call me that in six years. Though now that we’re friends, you ought to call me Anita.”

Her chest swelling with pride, Josie said, “Thank you, Anita.”

Having a whole glass of wine, being treated as a friend by a grownup, especially one as beautiful as Ms. Helm… Josie’s day was getting better all the time.

They sat down together. “A toast to Christmas! And to friendship,” Anita declared, raising her glass high.

“To Christmas… and friendship,” Josie murmured, then they clinked glasses.

Friendship. The very word seemed to warm her soul. This was shaping up to be the best holiday meal she’d ever had. Just looking into Ms. Helm’s – Anita’s eyes made Josie feel good.

Over dinner they engaged in pleasant conversation. When Anita asked Josie about school, her questions were sincere, and she seemed to be genuinely interested in the teen’s personal life. For her part, Josie did her best to converse in a mature manner, wanting to make a good impression.

Neither of them was surprised that there was plenty of food left, even after they were both full.

“I told you, you’ll have to help me finish it off tomorrow,” Anita said again as they put the leftovers into the refrigerator. “That’ll be okay with your mum, won’t it? Tell her I’ll send her containers back when they’re empty.”

A little wine remained in the bottle, so Anita shared it out between them. They took their glasses into the living room and sat on the couch, relaxing together in a blissful silence.

Then Josie asked, “Do you think you’ll ever get married again, Anita?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt awful for being so insensitive.

“No fear!” Anita exclaimed, making a face. “It was the best thing that could’ve happened to me, losing that cunt!” When she saw the shocked look on Josie’s face, the woman quickly added, “Sorry, love. I shouldn’t say things like that around you.” Then she chuckled. “Which isn’t to say he doesn’t deserve it, mind.”

“Oh… it’s okay,” Josie replied. “I know that word, though if Mum or Dad ever heard me use it I’d get a tan on my backside.” She giggled, then cheekily added, “On my arse, I should say!”

Anita had to laugh at that. “You watch your language, young lady,” she said, wagging a finger at Josie, “or it’ll be me tanning your arse!”

The awkward moment now past, Anita answered the question. “Getting married again isn’t something I care to think about right now. In fact, I’m making it official: men are off my list for… well, maybe for good.” Then she shook her head. “Oh, don’t listen to me, Josie. Just because I had a bad experience, you oughtn’t to let that put you off boys.”

“No worries,” Josie replied. “Actually, I’m not much into boys anyway. Most of my friends are boy crazy, but I’m not.”

“Oh? Girls then?”

For a moment, Josie considered how she should answer, then finally replied, “I don’t know… I’ve never even been kissed, so it’s all kind of new to me. Maybe I need time to sort my feelings out.”

I probably do like girls, though, Josie told herself, knowing she was being evasive with Anita. Then again, she’d never told anyone about these occasional thoughts she had – not even her best friend, and definitely not her mum.

Reaching out, Anita lightly touched the girl’s hand. “Listen… I know how difficult it can be to be open about things like sex with your parents. I just want you to know that if you ever need someone to talk to when it comes to, well, personal matters… well, my door will always be open.”

Josie was taken aback at first, then she felt a warm surge of affection for Anita that left her glowing inside. She suspected that at least some of that warmth was from the wine they’d drunk, but didn’t let that throw her.

Still, the woman’s question nagged at her. Josie had never allowed herself to dwell for long on the topic of her sexuality, figuring she was too young to decide anyway. There were a few boys she thought of as attractive, but what about all the cute girls she knew? It’s so confusing! 

A sudden impulse to share these feelings proved too strong to resist. Clearing her throat, she spoke up.

“You’re right. There are things I’d like to talk about, y’know, with a grownup… and I like that you don’t, um, treat me like a little kid. So, you really don’t mind if I…?”

Anita gave Josie’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “Not at all, love.” She studied the girl thoughtfully. “This is something to do with sex, then?”

“Yeah,” Josie replied with a nod. “The thing is, I haven’t put much thought into, um, how I feel when it comes to sex. Mostly I think of girls when I… when I… well, you know.” She felt her face grow warm, but fought to ignore it.

“Touch yourself? There’s no need to be embarrassed about that, Josie. Bloody hell, It’s the only kind of sex I have these days!”

Josie still felt a bit awkward, but part of that was due to the nearness of this beautiful woman, the frank conversation they were having… and a growing interest she felt in Anita. My gosh, do I have a crush on her? 

Then it occurred to her, as if for the first time, that she always thought about girls when she masturbated. It seemed perfectly obvious… yet somehow, hadn’t registered in her conscious mind. Did I honestly never notice? Or was I ignoring it, pretending that wasn’t really me? Two and two were beginning to add up.

Out of nowhere, she recalled an incident from a few weeks ago. She’d thought nothing of it at the time, but now…

She was sitting on the front porch reading, and across the street Anita was watering her front yard. Josie remembered that she’d forgotten about her book, watching as her neighbour, wearing tight shorts and a tank top, tended to her lawn.

And then, there was how she always seemed to admire the bodies of the more mature girls while they were getting undressed for gym class. At the time, she assumed it was all about anticipation of when her own frame would develop into a more womanly shape. Now, she suspected that her interest meant something more.

It was becoming increasingly obvious – two plus two equalled four.

When her focus returned to the present, she looked at Anita closely, trying to pick up the thread of their conversation. It had only been a few seconds, so she caught the gist of it right away.

Anita was talking about masturbation. “It’s perfectly normal – even good for you, I think,” she was saying. “I remember being your age. You’re what, fourteen? I’m thirty-one, and I get myself off nearly every night.”

That lodged a compelling image in Josie’s mind: the very lovely Ms. Helm, naked and spread out, eyes closed and mouth slack as she fingered her slit. Does she have hair down there, or does she shave? Josie wondered. Either way, imagining it gave her a deliciously shivery feeling, one that seemed to throb inside her knickers.

“For the last three years I was with that cunt George,” Anita continued, “he barely touched me. And when we did fuck – well, it was nothing like making love, that’s for certain. He was just stimulating his cock, and I was working off my frustration. Suppose I should have taken that as a sign.” She sighed.

Unbeknownst to Anita, the front of her robe had parted, revealing just enough of her breasts to steal Josie’s breath away.

Her pulse raced. Oh, God… it’s more than a crush, way more! I want to do things with her. Sex things.

Now that she’d finally teased out the question of her preference for females, Josie ached to do something about it… and the sight of Anita only kindled this newfound desire, coaxing it into a roaring inferno.

Staring down at her hands, Anita was oblivious of the effect her half-dressed state had on Josie. “Don’t get me wrong – I’m happy to be rid of George, and I know how to make myself feel good… it’s just having a lover that I miss. Someone to hold me, to make me feel special. Like I matter.”

At that, Josie had to speak up. “You do matter, Anita!” she protested. “I think that you’re… an amazing person, and you deserve to be happy.”

Surprised by the teen’s outburst, Anita glanced up, her surprise growing when she saw the warmth in Josie’s eyes. “Well… thank you. That’s very sweet.” She smiled, but it was tinged with a hint of sadness. Looking down at her glass, which had been empty for quite some time, she murmured, “I think, maybe… yeah, I’ll open another bottle.”

Don’t let her, Josie told herself. Something about Anita’s vulnerability encouraged her, though the wine she’d drunk also did its part to loosen the teen’s inhibitions. The time felt right for a bold move.

She shook her head. “Anita, no. “You don’t want more wine.” Reaching out, she placed a trembling hand on the woman’s knee. “There’s something else you need,” she continued, struggling to keep her voice calm and steady. “Something nice. Something special.”

Anita stared at her fourteen-year-old guest, struggling to work out what she was getting at. Is she honestly asking me to… no, that can’t be what she means! 

But it was. The girl’s craving was practically written on her face. God, when was the last time anyone looked at me that way…? She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of arousal, in spite of herself.

“Oh, no, sweetie,” Anita said, shaking her head. “We – we can’t do that!”

Josie only drifted closer. “We’re friends, right? Well, friends look out for each other, and care for each other. And I care about you. A lot!”

“I think you’ve had too much to drink, young lady,” Anita said, fixing the girl with a stern look.

“I’m not drunk,” Josie protested. “I’m doing this because I want to.”

“What about this, then: you’re only fourteen, and – and I’m not gay!”

“Yeah, but you’re frustrated, and – and I’m excited! Anyhow, just ‘cause you do sex with a girl, that doesn’t make you gay,” Josie replied, folding her arms. She was putting on a bit of a front to conceal her nervousness, but something inside kept her going, insisting that yes, this was the right thing to do.

On the verge of a sharp retort, the woman took a deep breath, then sighed instead. “Look, Josie,” she said, “It’s sweet of you to, to offer me this… but let’s face it, there are a lot of reasons why we shouldn’t m-make love.”

She’s thinking about it, Josie told herself. I bet she really wants to, but she’s scared.

“I know why we should,” the girl countered. “You said you miss having someone to hold, someone who can make you feel wanted. Why can’t I be the one to do that?” She gazed into Anita’s blue eyes, watching them widen as the woman recognized her desire. “We… we could teach each other.”

Anita fixed her with a curious look. “Is this something you’ve, um, been thinking about, sweetie? I mean, I’ve got to ask… is that why you came over today?”

It took Josie a few seconds to get Anita’s meaning – then she gasped, horrified. “Oh, gosh, no! That’s not it at all! Please don’t think that. Ms. Helm!”

Startled by the girl’s outburst, Anita quickly raised a hand. “Sorry, love. Shouldn’t have said that. And it’s Anita, remember… not Ms. Helm, please.”

Josie made a face. “Oops! Sorry, I forgot.”

“No offence taken.” She studied Josie thoughtfully. “So, let’s talk about this. Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking. Help me understand, because…” She gestured helplessly. “Because I’m having a hard time, um, processing it.”

Josie took a deep breath. “I said I didn’t know before… but that’s not true. Actually, I’m pretty sure I like girls,” she said, trapping both hands between her knees. “No, I know I do. I used to think I liked some boys… but that was pretending, trying to make myself think I wasn’t really gay.” She looked up at Anita. “I am gay, though,” she said, then gave a shaky laugh. “I – I kinda just figured it out.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that,” Anita pointed out, “but shouldn’t you be putting the moves on, I don’t know, some cute girl who goes to your school? Why in God’s name would you want sex with me? I’m practically middle aged!”

“Cause you’re beautiful,” Josie murmured. “I like you a lot. And… and cause I really want to see you in just your knickers.” She giggled when the woman noticed her parted robe and quickly pulled it closed, then fixed her once more with that needful gaze. “But mostly, I want to make you happy, Anita. It’s not right that you’re feeling lonely on Christmas. Won’t you let me help with that?”

Anita stared at the girl in disbelief, her body throbbing like an idling engine. She’d always defined herself as straight, but had long entertained occasional fantasies of sex with another woman. And since George’s departure, she had toyed more than once with the notion of visiting a lesbian bar and letting herself get picked up.

Now the opportunity to realise this hidden desire was within Anita’s grasp… only not with a woman, but a girl of fourteen! How was she expected to respond to that?

But she’s so sweet, so beautiful. And she wants me. In lots of ways, Josie could be the perfect lover. 

In spite of herself, Anita began to picture the girl naked… then began to wonder what it would be to touch her.

Sensing that Anita might be on the verge of giving in, Josie eased a hand beneath the hem of the woman’s robe, returning it to her warm, bare thigh.

Anita meant to push the teen’s hand away, then hesitated. Damn it all, anyway. I shouldn’t let this happen, but I… I like having her touch me! She sighed heavily. “Oh, Josie… what am I going to do with you?”

“You could kiss me,” the girl replied. “I’d like that… I’d like it a lot. Will you, Anita?”

She was going to refuse, telling Josie this wasn’t a good idea, the girl was only fourteen, too young to know what she really wanted… but somehow, Anita found herself moving closer until their mouths met. Closing her eyes, she drifted into the kiss

Josie had never really kissed anyone before, but she’d paid close attention to her friends when they discussed their experiences with boys, and quickly learned that slow, sensual kissing was the way to go, at least to start with. You’ll probably only get one chance to get this right, she told herself, so make it count!

As for Anita, it had been years since she’d experienced genuine passion – with her ex or anyone else. So when Josie kissed her, it was like coming home to a beautiful place she’d desperately missed. In spite of herself, she began to respond, allowing her lips to part slightly… and that was when Josie brought her tongue into play, kissing her neighbour like a lover.

Anita was giddy, overwhelmed and utterly smitten. No man had ever kissed her so sweetly, especially not her prick of an ex-husband. It sent her soul soaring. A whimpering sound seemed to be filling her ears, and she was less surprised than she might have been to recognise it as coming from her own throat.

Unable to say no to Josie’s precious gift, Anita returned the girl’s affection, her own tongue joining in this loving duet. As their kiss deepened, she could feel the gusset of her knickers growing hot and damp.

When she felt a hand slip between her thighs to touch her sodden panties, Anita felt a twinge of panic. “Josie!” she gasped. “You – you shouldn’t…”

But when Josie made no response, Anita wondered if she’d even spoken in the first place. Or maybe I didn’t really want her to hear me? After all, would it be so terrible if she let the girl have her way?

Then Josie wriggled a finger beneath the leg of her knickers – and just like that, Anita’s capacity to resist vanished like smoke as, for the first time in so very long, she knew the touch of a lover. Without another word, she lay back and simply let things happen to her.

In marked contrast, Josie was holding her breath. She was venturing into an unfamiliar world – a world in which even adults made mistakes. She’d never done anything sexual with another person, never touched anyone that way but herself.

Yet she was now seducing a grownup, a woman practically old enough to be her mum!

Josie was astounded, not least by her own bravery. Where had it come from, the courage she’d drawn on to touch Anita between the legs like this? She still wasn’t sure. They were doing sexy kissing, and it just happened. And now that she was playing with the woman’s pussy for real, Josie wasn’t about to stop.

The woman’s panties, though – those were an inconvenience, thwarting Josie’s efforts to touch her lover the way she wanted.

Taking a deep breath, Josie began tugging at them with her free hand, the urgency she felt making her clumsy. Only when Anita raised her hips was the teen able to get the sodden panties down and off.

Once Anita had cast the offending garment aside with a flick off her foot, Josie took in the sight of a woman’s sex up close for the first time. It was breathtaking, a vision of fleshy beauty tucked between supple thighs.

Unlike the neat cleft of Josie’s sex, the lips of Anita’s cunt were slightly parted and glistening inside. The girl leaned closer, nostrils flaring as she breathed in the heady aroma. So strong… like nothing I’ve ever smelled. I like it, though.

Their pubes were very different, she noticed. Josie was immensely proud of the patch of feather-light hair that adorned her vulva, while Anita shaved hers to a narrow strip in the centre. What hair the woman had was darker; coarser. Josie’s was so fine and fair that her pale skin was visible through the sparse tuft.

Captivated by what she saw, the teen got down on her knees, leaning in for a better look.

Anita opened her eyes, wondering why Josie had stopped touching her, then gasped when she saw the girl kneeling before her. By then, she was desperate for release.

“Oh, yes, sweetie – kiss me there, please!” she begged. “That wanker George never would do it to me.”

At a loss, Josie stared at Anita, unsure what the woman meant. “Um…”

Anita realised she’d misinterpreted the teen’s movement. “Oh! Er, never mind.” Her cheeks were flushed. “It doesn’t matter, honestly.” Bloody hell, I’ve gone and put my foot in it.

But to Josie, it did matter, quite a lot. Especially since she now had an inkling of what her partner needed so badly. “No, no… If you want me to do anything for you that Mr. Helm wouldn’t, then I will. I want to.”

I love you, Anita, she longed to add, but thought it best to keep that bit to herself.

“You really want to… to go down on me?” Anita asked.

Instead of replying, Josie seemed confused. “Uh… go down? What’s that?”

Anita felt a sudden impulse to giggle, but managed to hold it in. I’ve got to remember, she’s still only fourteen. “We’re talking about oral, sweetheart. Oral sex.”

“Oh,” the teen replied. “I sort of know about that… it’s just, well, I don’t exactly know how to do it. I mean, I’ve not even had a real kiss until just now!”

In fact, the extent of her knowledge concerning oral sex was limited to a theoretical understanding of what was involved in a blowjob. One guy had asked if she wanted to know how to give one, and she’d told him to get knotted. Licking a woman, on the other hand… it shouldn’t be all that difficult, but what if I do it wrong anyhow?

Recognising the uncertainty in Josie’s eyes, Anita hastened to assure the girl. “Don’t worry, sweetie… it’s pretty simple, actually. You just use your mouth on my pussy. No matter what you do, I guarantee it will make me feel wonderful. But, um, only if you want to, of course.”

Josie nodded eagerly. “Oh, yes… I do!” Her words showed conviction, but then she faltered. “Just so I know, you mean… kiss you there and stuff, right?”

“That’s right. Anything you can do with your mouth, or your tongue or your lips or your teeth.”

“Teeth?” Josie echoed, uncertain once again. That sounded pretty extreme.

“Sure. A little playful nibbling can be fun, as long as you don’t bite too hard. Kiss, suck, lick, bite – whatever. Just be gentle, and your partner should enjoy it, or else they’ll tell you that they don’t like it.”

Sitting back on her haunches, Josie said quite clearly, “I want to eat you, Anita, and, and anything else that you’d like. ‘Cos I want to give you pleasure, and make you happy.”

“In that case,” Anita told her, “I’ll make it easy for you.” She raised both knees to her chest, giving the girl unobstructed access, along with an amazing view of both her holes.

Josie absently moistened her lips, throbbing from head to toe with renewed arousal as she drew closer to Anita’s juicy cunt.

Cunt. She said the word to herself for the first time, caught up in the lush beauty of a woman’s sex. This was fast becoming more to her than just making Anita feel good… she felt a growing urge to bury her mouth in the heated flesh, feel its wetness coat her lips as she lost herself in the earthy scent.

Without another thought, Josie burrowed between her lover’s legs, seeking out the womanly centre. She was immediately rewarded by Anita’s ecstatic cry. “Oh m-my God! Yes, sweetheart, YES!”

Starting with a few open-mouthed kisses, Josie soon hungered for more. She quickly moved on to licking, bathing the woman’s rosy cleft with long swipes of the tongue.

“Oh, fuck,” Anita whimpered. “Th-that’s so good…”

The flavour of pussy was unusual but intriguing, and Josie soon decided she loved it. Fastening her mouth to the warm, wet opening, she feasted on Anita’s nectar, taking an occasional greedy lick.

It was perhaps the most thrilling sexual experience of Anita’s life, certainly the wildest. The teen’s tongue was circling the opening of her vagina to dizzying effect.

By then, Anita was keyed up beyond belief, desperate to come. She didn’t want to hurry Josie along, not exactly… but the need for release was becoming almost unbearable.

“S-sweetie,” the woman stammered, touching the teen’s head with quivering hands, “I need you to, to do s-something for me.” Before Josie could reply, Anita spread her labial folds open to reveal the inflamed nubbin of her clitoris. “Lick me right here, p-please?”

Applying her tongue to Anita’s clit, Josie strummed it with lightning-fast flicks, smiling when she heard her lover’s passionate moan. Wonder what she’d do if I sucked it? she asked herself, then resolved to find out. She closed her lips around the tiny bud and nursed it like a nipple, which resulted in a long, drawn-out cry from Anita’s throat. Yes! Josie exulted.

Now knowing for certain that she was on the right track, Josie went for broke, determined to give Anita the release she needed so badly. She carefully put her teeth to the little organ, then gave it a gentle squeeze.

Anita moaned again, louder this time – and the teen shifted her lower jaw sideways, running her incisors over the sensitive tissue.

The result was explosive. Anita’s body went iron-rigid and she wailed, “Jesus Christ, YES!” Her arms and legs began to shiver, then a violent jerk ripped through her once, twice, three times.

A small surge of fluid flowed into Josie’s mouth, an instant before the panting woman clumsily pushed her face away.

Anita was in no condition to speak for a couple of minutes, but she managed to pull Josie close to hug and kiss her, sobbing all the while.

Although she felt reasonably certain of the answer, Josie asked anyway. “Did I do it right, Anita?”

Wiping a few tears away, Anita gave the teenager a warm smile, “Oh… it was wonderful, Josie. You did a perfect job.” Still sniffling a bit, she added, “Are you sure you’ve never made love to a woman before?”

“No, never,” Josie replied, her cheeks flushed with pride. “Really, I just… tried different stuff.”

“Can I do it to you?”

The teenager gaped at her adult friend, caught off guard. Not trusting herself to speak, she gave a quick nod.

“So… you’ll let me take your clothes off? I’d love to see you naked, sweetheart.”

Now unable even to nod, Josie stood immobile, her eyes huge.

It was all the answer Anita needed. She began by removing Josie’s t-shirt, which was decorated with images of Santa Claus and Christmas trees, then paused to admire the girl’s willowy form.

Josie bit her lip as the clasp of her bra was unfastened, worried that Anita might be underwhelmed by the modest size of her chest. This concern proved to be unfounded when the woman gently cupped the fourteen-year-old’s left breast, pausing to tease the nipple with her thumb.

At the woman’s touch, Josie drew in a sharp breath, then whispered, “Oh… oh yes, Anita…”

After awakening in an especially festive mood that same morning, Josie had chosen to wear a pair of fire-engine red shorts. Now Anita was sliding them down her hips, leaving the girl in nothing but panties. Then those were being removed as well. Josie felt a sudden twinge of uncertainty, wondering whether or not Anita would approve of her unshaved vulva. She hesitantly asked, “Is it okay? Um, that I don’t shave down there?”

“You’re absolutely perfect, precious.” Josie watched Anita’s hand as the older woman lightly stroked her  pubis, then she closed her eyes, overwhelmed by how lovely it felt… so much better than when she did herself. She heard Anita whisper, “My God, it’s so soft… like down. Sweetie, you are exquisite.”

Josie’s only remaining concern was whether her legs might buckle under her. Fortunately, that worry was resolved when Anita gently laid her down on the sofa.

The teen then found herself being positioned by her lover – upper back on the cushions, hips raised up and across the arm of the sofa. Her left leg rested on the back of the couch; the right foot touched the floor. Now Anita was on her knees before Josie, slowly drawing closer to the girl’s sex, now open and fully exposed.

The first touch of a woman’s tongue elicited a squeal from the fourteen-year-old. Anita paused to sample and savour the taste of a young girl, then moved in for more. Josie moaned, biting at a knuckle as she experienced oral sex for the first time.

Anita was surprised by how natural it felt to go down on a girl. She worked slowly but deliberately, starting with the girl’s engorged labia. Her tongue slipped between the folds to tease the dripping interior – then on impulse, she gently closed her teeth on one lip to give it a playful tug.

“Oh!” Josie gasped, a shiver racing through her thin frame.

Changing tactics again, Anita used the tip of her tongue to toy with the teen’s slit – licking around the entrance, then darting inside the vagina, probing as deep as she could go.

“Mmmmm, yes, yes!” Josie was sailing close to the edge, clearly on the brink of something massive… and Anita was determined to make the girl’s orgasm one she would never, ever forget. So she took the tiny pearl of the clitoris between her lips, attacking it with lightning-fast flicks of the tongue.

A strangled cry broke from Josie’s throat, and she cried, “Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh m-my GOD!”

To the fourteen-year-old, it was like plunging into an ocean of glittering stars. She felt massive, enormous, inhabited by universes. She’s loving me, Josie told herself, hardly able to believe her good fortune. This beautiful lady is making love to me.

The sensations continued to rise, rocketing through Josie until it seemed she was on the verge of screaming. It was ecstatic and frightening in equal measure, though the scary bits only made the experience more of a thrill.

Then Anita started nibbling at her clit… and Josie’s world vanished in a burst of dazzling white light.

The girl thrashed wildly about as she came – beyond speech, beyond thought, beyond anything but the moment’s rapture. Anita continued to suck at Josie’s cunt, filling her mouth with the liquid sugar of a young girl. She had to hold on tightly, though, lest the teen shake her off.

Josie was absolutely staggered. Her mind was barely functioning – it seemed to be starved of both blood and oxygen. When her orgasm hit one final unimaginable peak, she drifted into a state that was not quite sleep, but a warm, blissful haze.

Sitting back, Anita licked her lips, then she crawled onto the sofa with Josie, taking the dazed girl into her arms.

Josie nestled into the woman, resting a cheek against a soft, comforting breast. “I love you, Anita,” she whispered.

“I… I love you too,” Anita replied. Her heart began to pound as the truth of those words sank in. Oh, no, she thought. What in God’s name have you got yourself into now, woman?

After a moment, she finally shrugged. I didn’t ask for this… but now Josie’s here and in my arms, and all’s right with the world. She touched her lips to the girl’s forehead, cuddling her close.

They lay together for a long while until, after glancing at the clock, Anita murmured, “Sweet thing, I think it’s about time you got dressed and went back to your folks. You don’t want anyone to come looking for you.”

With a sigh, Josie sat up and stretched. “S’pose you’re right…”

The two lovers slowly stood, gathered up the scattered clothing and quietly dressed… not without a few wistful looks as their bare bodies were covered once more.

Drifting toward the front door, Josie timidly asked, “Anita, can we please do this again sometime? It was wonderful, so, so wonderful!”

Anita chuckled. “Well, we didn’t get through all the food you brought, after all. You’ll have to come back tomorrow for leftovers. Because there’s more we can share.” She rested a hand on the girl’s bum. “Lots more.”

Before Josie opened the door, they came together for one last passionate kiss. “Good night, sweetie,” Anita said.

“Good night, Anita,” the girl replied. She gave the woman’s hand a quick squeeze, then made her way into the night.

Anita watched Josie disappear into the darkness. She closed the door and leaned back against it, smiling hugely and hugging herself.

Walking home, Josie dwelled on the pleasures she’d experienced. More than that, she thought about the new world that had just opened for her.

Why’d it take me so long to figure out I was a lesbian? she wondered. After her time with Anita, it couldn’t be more obvious. Now she hungered to immerse herself in the experience, to know everything about love between women.

Anita, too – she said she wanted more. And she’s just as new to this as I am. Wow, that’ll be so cool… starting from the same place, learning what to do together.

As she reached the front door of her home and heard the hubbub of family and friends inside, her heart was soaring.

Best. Christmas. EVER.

The End

by C. Cat

Katie was walking along the forest path, accompanied by her mother Amanda and her new best friend Rayne. Beaming with pride, the young girl touched her new necklace, lost in thought about what it represented. I’m a Latchmore Fairy now… this is where I’m meant to be!

As if that wasn’t special enough, Katie was also holding hands with the sweetest, most beautiful girl she’d ever known — a girl who really, really liked her, too. My first girlfriend! she silently rejoiced. She squeezed Rayne’s hand even tighter, hoping the pretty redhead could read her thoughts.

Flashing a shy smile, Rayne returned the squeeze, sending a delicious shiver up Katie’s spine. There were so many things she wanted to say to this new girl who had just strolled into her life… but for the moment, just basking in her presence was enough.

Then there was her mother Amanda, who Katie had just kissed, fondled and tasted a few minutes ago. Her pulse quickened at the memory of it, and a hint of Mummy’s pussy lingered on her lips. Stealing a glance at the woman, she made a promise to herself. The next time me and Mum make love, I’ll lick her bottom hole like Rayne did.

As the three of them drew closer to Fairy House, they encountered another pair of girls travelling in the same direction, also hand in hand. Judging by their outfits, these two were just returning from horseback riding.

Rayne raced ahead to meet them. “Girls!” she called out. “Come meet our new fairy Katie! And this is her mum, Amanda — she’s going to be our new house mother!” Rayne was in a giddy mood, practically skipping as she brought everyone together.

“Verrrry nice,” said one of the girls, looking Amanda up and down, She was a petite blonde with her hair tied back in a ponytail. “You can have a sleepover with me anytime you like.”

Rayne rolled her eyes. “I should’ve warned you… this one’s a total pussy hound.”

“Didn’t hear you complaining when I had my tongue in your bum the other night, Rayne,” the blonde replied, a mischievous smirk on her lips.

“Are you sure you want to be house mother for this lot, Mummy Amanda?” Rayne asked the woman with an exaggerated sigh.

“Well, I like what I’m seeing so far,” Amanda replied, giving the blonde girl a wink.

“In that case, introductions are in order. This is Zoe,” Rayne began, introducing a slim black girl with a big, beautiful mane of hair. “She’s one of the thirteen-year-olds and the head girl in our house. She’s a smashing dancer. And this troublemaker,” Rayne gestured toward the grinning blonde, “is Avery. She’s one of the twelve-year-olds and super nice… when she can keep her knickers on, at least. Oh, and she also knows absolutely everything about horses.”

“Everything but how to keep your bum from getting sore,” Zoe said, wincing as she reached back to touch her bottom. “Tonight, I’ll be taking my dinner standing up, thanks very much!”

Avery giggled. “It’s your first time on a horse, silly! Once you’ve been in the saddle another couple of times, it won’t hurt a bit.”

“I’m pleased to meet you both,” said a beaming Amanda, giving them a brief hug apiece, then the five of them set off for Fairy House..

Most of the older girls were out when the group arrived, but Zoe introduced Katie and her mother to the ones who were there, running through their names and ages.

Clair, one of the twelve-year-olds, was a cute tomboy with short dark hair and a slim build. She was in the main room cuddling with two eight-year-olds — a black girl named Annie and Emma, a redhead. There were also three nine-year-olds nearby: blonde Ella, brunette Lilly, and Aiko, a Japanese girl with jet black hair in pigtails. Katie hadn’t met Lilly or Annie yet, but knew the other girls from the day before. Needless to say,  they were delighted to see their new friend wearing a Latchmore Fairy necklace.

“Listen up, fairies,” Zoe said, interrupting their chatter, “I’m sure you all want to get to know our new sister, but first you ought to introduce yourself to our new house mother, Mummy Amanda. She’s Katie’s mum!”

Surprised by Zoe’s announcement, the youngsters were quick to cluster around Amanda, eager to meet her. So she seated herself in a large cushiony sofa, introduced herself, eager to get acquainted with her new charges.

Rayne gently nudged Katie with her elbow. “C’mon, let’s go upstairs. You’ll be rooming with me, so we need to start thinking about where to put your stuff.”

“Good idea!” Katie replied, then called out, “Uh, Mum?” When Amanda glanced up, Katie said, “Me and Rayne are going up to her room for a bit. Okay?”

“Go ahead, sweetie,” her mother replied, and the two girls raced up the staircase, holding hands. Watching them go, Amanda told herself, Those little minxes are about to fuck again.

The thought made her smile, then she got back to her chat with the Latchmore girls. As she got to know them, Ella, Lilly, Clair and Aiko each took a turn sitting next to Amanda, telling a little bit about themselves and asking the occasional question.

While she was chatting with the three girls, Amanda noticed that even though Annie was seated off to one side, the little girl kept sneaking glances at her. The pretty eight-year-old was obviously bashful, but she did seem to be fascinated by her new house mother… maybe even smitten?

Annie was having a definite effect on Amanda, too. The child’s loose-fitting shorts displayed her slim legs to impressive effect, and a pink t-shirt stood out beautifully against her light cocoa skin. She felt an urge to nuzzle Annie’s face, to kiss that adorable little mouth.

What’s happened to me? Amanda asked herself. Okay, sometimes I have sexual thoughts about little girls… but now, I’m like a kid in a candy store, wanting every one I see! I’ve got to show some restraint, damn it all.

That was when Clair, now done with her questions, looked over at the little black girl. “C’mon, Annie – spend some time with Mummy Amanda. She’s soooo nice!”

Unable to meet Amanda’s eyes, Annie slowly came forward, and Clair guided the child into the woman’s lap. ““She’s really shy, but she’s also sweet as candy. Probably the smartest girl in her class, too!”

“I’m glad to meet you, Annie,” Amanda said, taking the girl’s hand between hers. “You’re a very pretty girl. Sit with me for a little while, okay?”

The compliment made the child cover her face, but she didn’t make any attempt to move away. Instead, she gave a slight nod, looking down in her lap.

“I’ll let you two get to know each other,” Clair said, giving Annie a kiss on the cheek, then going into the next room to join the other girls. Now Amanda and Annie were on their own.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Amanda murmured. Another little nod from Annie. “I can be really shy, too — especially around pretty girls. I’ll bet you feel like that too, sometimes. You do, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” Annie almost whispered.

“But Clair is very pretty… and you aren’t shy around her. I bet I know why.”

That caught Annie’s curiosity. She finally looked up, giving Amanda a chance to see the sparkle of her large, dark eyes. “Why?”

Amanda leaned in close, speaking softly. “I bet you’ve kissed her. Kisses make a lot of things better. Not just cuts and bruises… they work on shyness, too. Like magic!”

Annie responded with a bashful smile. “I do like kisses!” She moved a bit closer. “I like giving them, and I like getting them, too.”

Oh, my goodness, Amanda thought. Those warm brown eyes seemed to beckon her closer, clearly saying what the child wanted from the new house mother.

She gave Annie a light kiss on her cheek, followed by a series of quick and playful pecks that made her new friend giggle as they drew closer to her mouth.

As their lips met, Amanda let her hands glide over Annie’s back in a loving caress, then drew her in close, cradled to her breasts. A soft “mmm” escaped the girl as their kiss lingered.

“Did it work?” Amanda said as they broke apart. “Do you feel less shy now?”

“A little,” Annie replied, nibbling her lower lip. “Um… maybe we can try again, just to be sure?”

Amanda laughed. “I think Clair was right about how smart you are… but she didn’t tell me you were sneaky, too!” She gave Annie a little pinch, making the girl erupt in a flurry of giggles. Oh, she’s utterly adorable. How can I possibly say no to this little charmer?

In the meantime, Clair had returned to the doorway to see how the two of them were getting on. Seeing that Amanda had put the girl at ease, Clair moved over the couch and bent down to whisper something to Annie.

Whatever it was, the girl nodded in agreement, then smiled up at Amanda. “Would you like to see my room?”

It might have seemed like a question, but Annie was already on her feet tugging at Amanda’s hand… and there was nothing for it but to follow the child upstairs.

Annie’s room had soft pink walls and a pair of twin beds with frilly pink sheets and a bunch of neatly arranged stuffed animals. It looked like almost any young girl’s room, except the posters on the walls weren’t of popular teen stars, but beautiful women in skimpy bathing costumes or very revealing clothing. There was also a pillow on Annie’s bed that was embroidered with the words “NO BOYS ALLOWED.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Amanda noticed Annie hadn’t closed the door. She wondered for a second what that might mean, then decided it didn’t matter. I’ve got nothing to hide at Latchmore, she thought. Still, this girl is awfully young. Perhaps… a little too young?

I can at least kiss her once more, she reasoned. Extending a hand to Annie, she said, “May I kiss you again?”

Annie didn’t hesitate, all but leaping into Amanda’s lap before looking up to accept a lingering kiss.

A delicious tingle raced through Amanda’s body as the child’s tongue sought entrance to her mouth. What could she do, other than respond? Their tongues engaged in a sweet, shy dance.

“I like that,” the young girl said when they broke apart.

“Me too,” said Amanda. “So, little one… do you invite lots of women up to your room?”

“Uh-uh,” Annie replied with a shake of the head. “The older girls mostly do things together. Um, except for Clair, she likes to play with us… Rachel too, but she and Aiko are lovers, so they mostly do stuff together.”

Making a final decision, Amanda said, “Hmmm… would you like me to play with you, or am I too old?”

Annie’s eyes brightened in excitement. “Really? Will you?”

“I’d love to,” Amanda reassured her. “Especially if there’s a lot of kissing. I love to kiss pretty little girls.”

“There is a lot!” Annie said with a happy smile as Amanda bent down for another kiss.

She could tell by the way the girl moved that she very much liked what they were doing. That gave Amanda an idea. As they kissed, she tugged on one of the ties on her sundress. Then with just a slight twist of her body, the dress fell open, baring her breasts.

“Mmmm,” Annie cooed as Amanda’s nipple brushed her cheek.

Taking a little hand, Amanda brought it to the left breast, encouraging Annie to caress it before guiding her nipple to the child’s mouth. “Here you are, little girl… let’s pretend I’m your real mummy,” she murmured as Annie began to suck at the swollen tip.

As the girl nursed, Amanda let her fingers glide over Annie’s legs. Like all the fairies, hours of dance practice ensured even the youngest girls’ legs were nicely toned. Amanda was especially smitten by the silky softness and deep rich cocoa colour of little lover’s skin – it felt like satin. What would it feel like to have those legs wrapped around my face? she wondered..

“Ohhh!” Annie gasped when Amanda slipped a hand into her shorts. By then, she was more than ready to be touched, but Amanda intended to take her time.

“What sort of special games do you like to play with other girls?” Amanda asked. Her fingers were no more than an inch away from Annie’s slit.

“Sometimes when Clair is here,” Annie said between little gasps, “Me an’ Ella, we m-make a fairy ring with her.”

“That sounds fun, how do you play?”

“We, you know, sit in a circle… then each of us touches the, the muffin of the girl who’s sitting on this side.” She gestured to her left. “The way you win the game is if everybody…” Suppressing a giggle, Annie lowered her voice, “you all have to come at the same time.”

“Oh, my!” Amanda exclaimed. “That does sound like a nice game.”

“But you’re not s’posed to say how close you are. See, everyone’s got to watch each other, so they’ll know when it’s time.”

“Could we try it?”

“Sure!” Annie squealed, clapping her little hands as she jumped to her feet.

Amanda stood up, letting her dress fall to the floor. Her bra and knickers were gone – probably still on the floor of Miss Cindy’s office, she figured – leaving her naked. She paused, then slowly turned round to give the girl a chance to see everything, especially her vulva.

Going down on one knee, Amanda gave the little girl’s shorts a gentle tug. They fell to Annie’s ankles, exposing her cute round bottom and a puffy little pudenda with a glistening little slit peeking out from under her t-shirt. It was all Amanda could do to keep from giving it a kiss, but there was plenty of time for that.

The two seated themselves side by side, with Annie’s thighs parted far enough to show the glistening dew of her arousal, and the tiny pearl of a clit – a sight that had Amanda’s mouth watering.

“Ready?” the little girl chirped, her smile as wide as the sky.

“Ready,” Amanda echoed.

They began by caressing each other’s legs, slowly working their way upward. As Amanda drew nearer to her young lover’s centre, she could feel Annie tremble. She allowed her fingers to drift across the child’s mound, eliciting a small gasp.

Annie immediately began to return the favour, her fingers twirling around in the juicy flesh of Amanda’s cunt. Oh, my goodness! Amanda thought, her eyes going wide. This little vixen knows what she’s doing! For such a young girl, this child had mastered the fine art of teasing, quickly zeroing in on her new lover’s clitoris with feather-light strokes, a determined cast to her face.

Annie was focused on the task at hand, but she was far from immune to Amanda’s touch. She cried out loud when the woman slipped the tip of a finger inside her, all the while stimulating her clit. It felt positively yummy, and the child wriggled her hips in response. That’s when little Annie got an extra special surprise – another one of the nice lady’s fingers was pressing into her rosebud, seeking entrance.

She’d never been penetrated there before, and it felt amazing Annie squirmed and twisted in the woman’s embrace, trying to take those naughty fingers even deeper. She trembled all over as those good feelings grew stronger. Her own fingers were busy manipulating Amanda’s clit, and what she saw in the woman’s eyes told her that she needed to keep going just a little bit longer.

Annie felt Amanda’s body tense. It was nearly there… so close!

The little girl cried out in ecstasy as she came. An instant later, she felt Amanda’s larger frame jerk as she got off. They’d done it… the two lesbian lovers had won the game. They rode their orgasms to their limit, then collapsed on the bed, nestling in each other’s arms.

Amanda loved cuddling with the little cocoa-hued girl, but the intoxicating scent of Annie’s sex was tickling her nose, and she hungered for a taste. “Come up here, little one,” she said, scooping Annie up. The child squealed joyously.

At first, she had the girl straddling her chest, then cupped that soft little bottom and guided her further up until her baby-smooth slit was nearly touching Amanda’s lips.

“Ooooh, yes… a pony ride!” Annie squeaked as she settled herself on the woman’s face.

Breathing in the heady scent from up close, Amanda let her tongue glide across the tender cleft of Annie’s sex. She carefully explored its gentle folds, savouring the taste, not wanting to miss a drop.

As Amanda reached up to caress the girl’s arms and chest, she realised Annie must have taken off her shirt, leaving nothing but her wondrously velvety skin.

Annie’s little cooing noises ceased. Amanda felt the girl twist, then heard her giggle and whisper something she couldn’t make out. Was someone else in the room?

That question was answered when a pair of hands pushed Amanda’s legs apart, and long hair brushed her thighs as someone stretched out between them. “Ohhhh,” she moaned as a warm, wet tongue traced her opening, then flicked her clitoris several times.

When Annie raised her bum for a moment, Amanda peered down toward her feet to see Ella on hands and knees eagerly licking her cunt. Meanwhile, Clair was moving behind Ella with both hands on her hips. Clair’s motion made it clear that the older girl wore a strap-on cock that she was pressing deep inside the little blonde.

The sight startled Amanda. Didn’t Ella tell me she was only twelve? That’s awfully young to be getting fucked like that. She shook her head in awe. This place is even wilder than I thought! 

Still, Ella’s tongue seemed to press harder against the new house mother’s clit with every stroke of Clair’s strap-on, so Amanda had no real reason to complain.

Glancing up, she saw little Annie grinning down at her. “Now be a good pony, Mummy Amanda… and I’ll let Ella keep licking you,” the child cooed, then she lowered her sex to Amanda’s mouth once again.

Having the bashful young black girl taking a new, dominant role in the lovemaking sent a thrill through Amanda. She worked hard to share that same pleasure with Annie, switching between sucking the girl’s clit and licking her sweet bare slit. Annie seemed to produce a generous amount of nectar, and Amanda gulped down every drop.

Suddenly she heard a new voice say. “Oooh… are you having a pussy party?”

Someone, maybe Clair, murmured something in reply, and Amanda felt two more girls climb onto the bed. They each took one of her hands, then shifted about until two smooth cunts were pressed against her fingers, the girls straddling them.

By the sound of their voices, Amanda guessed it was Emma and Lilly who were pinning her to the bed. Her head swam at the realisation that she was at the mercy of all these lovely preteen girls.

Yes, yes! Fuck me, all of you! she silently demanded.

Just then, Annie cried out as she bucked wildly in a shattering orgasm, squeezing Amanda’s head between her thighs, flooding the woman’s mouth with more of her tart juices.

When the child dismounted her grownup lover’s face, Emma and Lilly both moved in for kisses. They licked Amanda’s lips and chin clean, then took turns plunging their tongues into her mouth.

After one especially deep kiss from Lilly, Emma quickly positioned herself just above Amanda’s face, feeding her pussy to the older woman. The eight-year-old soon fell into a hard rhythm, thrusting her hips as if she was fucking Amanda’s tongue, soon moaning in anticipation of her own climax.

Bloody hell, this one’s a real firework, Amanda told herself. She longed to grope the girl’s tight little bum, but once more, her hands were pinned down by other girls. By this time, she had no idea who they were. Guess they’ll all be having their way with me.

Emma adored having her clit licked, but when Amanda pushed her tongue deep inside the girl’s tight vagina, she went wild. “Yes, Mummy Amanda! Ooooohh, right there!” She ground herself against her house mother’s face, trying to get even more of that lovely tongue inside her. “Oh God, oh God, YES!” she gasped before her voice soared into a scream and her body went rigid. One last blissful moan, a trickle of honey from Emma’s slit, then she went limp.

Someone helped Emma dismount Amanda’s face, then there were three little girls kissing and licking the woman’s pussy-coated lips.

They drew away, then Amanda was licking another child’s sex. She decided it must be Lilly this time. In the meantime, Ella’s mouth was pressing against her cunt harder than before, probably because Clair was fucking the preteen even harder with the strap-on she was sporting. Ella was beyond the point where she could focus on edging Amanda – instead, she just licked wildly between gasps of pleasure every time the older girl drove the latex cock into her. As for Lilly, the breath was hissing through her clenched teeth as she rode the face of her grownup lover.

It was too much for Amanda. She felt a massive orgasm building inside, one she couldn’t hold back even if she wanted to. Her muscles began to spasm, her head spun like a crazy carousel, and she just managed to bring Lily to her own climax before everything came crashing down and the world went black.

When the fog lifted she found herself lying on her side with Annie and Ella, both cradled in her arms. Next to her, Clair was cuddling Emma and Lilly much the same way. Finally Amanda glanced up to see her smiling daughter Katie, standing in the doorway with her new friend and lover Rayne. They were both naked, and had clearly been enjoying the show.

Raising her head, Annie gave Amanda a soft kiss on the cheek. “Welcome to our house, Mummy Amanda,” the child whispered.

On to Chapter Nine!

By BlueJean

The Bookshop was named The Catalyst. It was painted black. The books in the window looked old and dusty.

A big freestanding sign outside read: Here Are Books. We Reunite Books With Their Owners. Thank You Please.

I had no idea what that meant, but found myself sufficiently intrigued to venture inside.

I pushed open the door. A shrill, jingly bell gave me away like an intruder alarm. The interior was dimly lit and musty – the air of old tomes, well worn and well read. An avid bookworm, I found the smell somehow comforting. When your mother sometimes forgets you exist, you make your own entertainment. So I sought solace in books.

An old woman behind a counter looked up at me in surprise. “What?” she asked.

“Pardon?” I replied.

“What do you want?”

Didn’t think she’d be making the shortlist for Shopkeeper Of The Year Award.

“Um… is this a bookshop?” I mean, there were lots of books, but I thought it best to double check.

“Yes,” the lady confirmed, but somehow her face was saying, No.

“So… am I allowed to look at the books?” I ventured.

“You don’t look at books, you read books.”

I couldn’t fault her logic. “Can I read the books, then?”

The bookseller was silent for a spell. I almost took that as a cue to retreat, when she replied, “I suppose so.”

“I might buy one,” I offered, trying to justify my intrusion.

“The books don’t care if you buy them or not,” she declared, and I thought that an odd thing to say.

“Do you know Rita and Derek?” I asked, flipping through the pages of an old hardback.

“No.”

“I’m their niece.”

“I don’t know them.”

“I’m staying with them for a while.”

“I don’t know who they are.”

“I’m Hailey.”

“Geetu.”

“That’s a nice name. Is it Indian?”

“Nepalese. I’m from Nepal.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“You’re sorry I’m from Nepal?”

“No, I didn’t mean— Do you have any fantasy books?”

“Probably.”

“‘Kay.” A battered tome found its way between my fingers. “Witchcraft For Beginners by Agnes Munt. Is that fantasy?”

“No. That one’s not for you. Someone already bought that book a while ago, when the shop was in a different place.”

I regarded the old bookseller suspiciously. Was she making fun of me? “Did they bring it back?”

The lady shook her head. “They still have it. It belongs to them.”

“‘Kay.” I thought it best not to ask too many questions.

I found another book called The Selkie.

I’d like to tell you that it was a large foreboding grimoire; that it was bound in thick cracked leather and secured with clasps of rusting metal. In truth, it was a thin, dog-eared paperback, pages yellowed with age, brown rings upon the cover betraying its secondary purpose as a drinks coaster. Beneath the ringed stains was a crudely drawn picture of a part-woman, part-sea creature sitting on a rock, her upper half bare, her lower half that of what I assumed was a fish.

“Is a Selkie the same as a mermaid?” I asked Geetu the bookseller.

“Who knows?” she replied with an unconcerned air.

Never judge a book by its cover, they say. But I did. I took it up to the counter. “I’ll take this one.”

The woman gave me a big satisfied smile. “Yes. That one is yours.”

“How much is it?”

“It is yours. You don’t pay for something that already belongs to you.”

“It’s free?” I said, confused.

She nodded at me.

“Oh. Thank you.”

***

Long ago, when humans were not yet human, the Tuatha Dé Danann came to Earth and took many forms – Dryad, Banshee, Merrow, and Dearg Due, to name but a few.

The Selkie were another.

Selkie lived in the ocean as seals, but venturing onto shore they shed their skin and assumed human form…

I was stretched out on my bed reading my new book when Aunt Rita called out to me from somewhere in the house. “Yeah?” I hollered back.

“Come here a moment.”

I folded a corner of a page down to mark my place, and then got up to descend the spiral staircase. “Where are you?”

“In the bathroom.”

The door was ajar, and my aunt lay in the bath shrouded by a thin layer of steam. Not expecting to see her like that, I ducked back in a fluster. “Oops, sorry!”

“Don’t be silly, you can come in,” Aunt Rita insisted.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Get in here.”

I shuffled into the bathroom as she craned her head back to peer at me in amusement. “You’re so shy.”

“I’m not really,” I told her.

She chuckled at my awkwardness. “Come sit on the edge of the tub.”

I perched on the bath, trying my best not to stare at my aunt’s breasts.

“Madeline and me want to go down the pub tonight, so can I ask you a big favour?”

“Sure,” I replied, carefully inspecting the taps. Looked like quality taps. Very solid.

“Madeline has a little girl. She usually gets a babysitter, but it was too short notice this time. Would you like to earn a bit of pocket money and babysit Isla?”

“Uh, yeah, I don’t mind,” I said, scrutinising the ceiling: A big stain right above the bath. Could use a fresh coat of paint.

“She’s only six, but she’s no trouble at all.”

True, she had seemed very well behaved when her mother and my aunt were doing unspeakable things to her. The images from the video suddenly filled my mind, bright and loud and clear. An adrenaline burst of adolescent lust rippled through me. I fixed my gaze on the wash basin. A classic Victorian-style sink. They didn’t make ’em like that anymore.

“I’ll get Madeline to drop her round later, then. We won’t be too late— Hailey, are you trying not to look at my tits?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. “What?! Uh… no.”

Aunt Rita had a dirty cackle for me. “Just have a good look at them, for God’s sake! Get it out of your system.” She sat up, and her breasts emerged from the water like the eyes of some mythical sea creature rising from the depths. She regarded me with a little smirk, unconcerned with her own nakedness.

I could feel my cheeks glowing, but found myself unable to look away. Her tits were firm and full, the dark nipples awakening some long dormant desire to suckle.

She took them in her hands and squeezed them together. “Happy now?” she asked me, but before I could muster a response she was holding out a bar of soap.

“What?” I said, unsure what she was driving at.

Her voice took on a posh warble, making me laugh. “Wash me, servant girl!”

“I’m not your servant girl!”

“Well, I say you are! Hop to it!”

I rolled my eyes and took the bar of soap. “Where shall I wash you?”

“Everywhere, servant girl.”

It suddenly dawned on me that I was about to touch my aunt’s naked body, and the gravity of that revelation brought trepidation and excitement in equal measure. I tentatively lathered her shoulders and arms,her skin soft against my fingers.

She leaned forward. “Now my back.”

I let my hands travel downwards to her torso. She had a sea serpent tattoo down the length of her spine. I snaked my fingers down its slippery body.

“Ooh, you’re good. I’m glad I hired you,” she cooed.

“Thank you… madam,” I told her, playing along.

“Now wash my tits.”

A little flutter thrummed through my belly. She was telling me to touch her breasts. She had told Isla that too. I was rendered motionless with the bar of soap in my hand, unsure if she was joking or not.

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Don’t keep me waiting, servant girl! I don’t want to have to smack your bottom!”

I pushed the soap against her tits, then hastily massaged them, trying not to give my excitement away, thinking this was merely an innocent game as far as my aunt was concerned. At eleven, I wasn’t yet adept at reading body language, or the subtle signals humans send to one another.

“Slowly, girl. Take your time,” Aunt Rita instructed me. “The lady of the house insists on squeaky clean titties.”

So I immersed myself in the washing of my aunt’s breasts, soapy hands eager and urgent, arousal and curiosity burning away my initial feeling of awkwardness at this strange and unexpected liaison. Her nipples were stiff against my fingers; the swell of her breasts full and heavy in the palms of my hands.

Without warning she rose to her feet, the bath water cascading down her petite, pale frame. My eyes were instantly drawn to her dark bush and the secrets it half concealed. She gave me a wry smile, then turned around. “My bum…” she said simply.

I lathered my hands again, then brushed my fingers across my aunt’s firm arse, delighting in the feel of her flesh. She glanced back at me, moving her feet further apart to allow me a teasing glimpse of her labia. I drank in the sight of her as I dared to apply more pressure, unsure what it was we were doing, unable to fully make sense of the situation, but basking in the intimacy of it.

Aunt Rita slowly turned to face me. She peered down between her legs, and my eyes followed hers.

I wanted her to let me touch it. I wanted to soap my fingers and push them through her fleshy folds. I very much wanted that.

But my aunt drew a line. “Off you go now, servant girl,” she said and shooed me away.

I padded back to my room in a daze, then stretched out on the bed to slip a hand inside my knickers. But it wasn’t enough. I needed an outlet for my burgeoning arousal. Well, fate had me destined to babysit a sexually aware six-year-old girl later that very evening. I wasn’t ignorant to the unique opportunity that presented itself.

***

Oftentimes, the Selkie would come ashore at night, shedding her seal skin and singing sweet songs, then returning once again to the ocean before the townsfolk awoke from their dreamy slumbers.

But sleep does not come easily to some.

One misty morning, a lighthouse keeper heard the Selkie’s song and followed the sound down to the shore…

Madeline and little Isla turned up a while later. I let them in and they trailed me into the lounge. The gorgeous doctor had swapped her white coat and stethoscope for a black cocktail dress and pearl necklace.

“Aunt Rita’s upstairs getting ready,” I told her. “She won’t be long.”

“Isla, this is Hailey,” Madeline said to her daughter. “She’s Rita’s niece, and she’s going to look after you for a couple of hours.”

“Hi, Isla,” I greeted the little girl.

She bounced up to me with a big gap-toothed smile. “My tooth fell out,” she told me proudly.

“Oh, that’s a shame. But you’ll grow another one, won’t you?”

Isla nodded enthusiastically. “Mm-hmm. Mummy says some more will fall out too. But if I put them under my pillow, the tooth fairy comes and leaves me some money.”

“Wow, that’s so cool.”

“Yeah. I can buy sweets with it.”

“If you buy sweets, your teeth will go rotten and then they’ll all fall out,” Madeline told her, tucking her daughter’s dark hair back behind her ears.

“I’ll… I’ll just… I’ll put them all under my pillow and get lots of money and then keep growing new ones,” Isla declared.

Madeline gave a soft chuckle. “It doesn’t work like that, sweetie. You get one more set of teeth after your baby ones fall out and they have to last you the rest of your life.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Now go and see what’s taking that naughty Rita so long.”

Naughty Rita…

Naughty Rita with her tongue up little Isla’s arsehole…

Naughty Rita rubbing her cunt against little Isla’s face…

Naughty naughty naughty Ri—

“Hailey?”

Madeline planted a hand on my knee, pulling me out of my reverie with a start. “Oh, sorry.”

I could hear Isla bounding up the stairs, and realised I was alone with her beautiful mother.

“Someone’s a daydreamer…” the doctor cooed.

I smiled shyly, keenly aware that her hand was still resting on my knee.

“Don’t tell your aunt I said this, but you have the cutest little mouth,” she purred. “I find myself wondering what it would be like to kiss it.”

I could smell her perfume, heady and exotic. “Thanks,” I murmured with a weak smile, then added dumbly, “Yours is nice, too.”

Her hand moved slowly up my leggings inch by inch. “Rita’s lucky to have such an adorable niece come stay with her.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. Nothing in my life up to this point had prepared me for the flirtatious attentions of a beautiful older woman.

She breathed in my ear. “You can come and visit me any time you like. Would you like that?”

I wasn’t sure how it was possible to feel so intimidated and yet incredibly turned on all at the same time. “Uh… Yeah. I might.”

Madeline’s hand paused at my inner thigh and her fingers brushed against me. “Pretty Hailey…” she whispered, and I caught her gaze. Something deep in her eyes seemed to churn and percolate, mesmerising me. I couldn’t look away.

“Oi! Stop molesting my niece, you dirty bitch!”

Aunt Rita came into the lounge with Isla riding on her back, and I thought we might be in trouble, until I noticed that familiar twinkle of humour in her eyes.

Madeline gave a tut. “She’s so uncouth, isn’t she, Hailey? I can’t imagine what possessed me to make friends with such a common tart.”

“Oh, shush!” my aunt scoffed as she set Isla down. “You’re as bad as me after a few drinks.”

Madeline patted me on the knee, then stood up. “Be good for Hailey, Isla,” she told her little girl and bent to kiss her on the cheek.

And then they were gone.

***

The lighthouse keeper hid behind a rock and spied on the Selkie in her human form, and in his heart he longed for her beauty; her companionship. When the Selkie slipped her sealskin on and returned to the briny waters, he mourned her absence and vowed to make her his wife…

Little Isla sat on the couch playing with a doll she’d brought with her. She wore a pair of pink leggings and a t-shirt with an elephant on the front. They would be coming off soon. Seduction was a new game to me, but who better to practise on than a little girl?

“Hailey, I’m six. How old are you?” Isla asked me as we sat on the couch watching TV.

“I’m eleven.”

“Is Rita your niece?”

“No, no. Rita’s my aunt. I’m her niece,” I explained.

“Mummy’s a doctor.”

“Yeah, I know. I bet it’s really cool to have a doctor for a mum.”

“It’s okay.”

“Do you want to sit on my knee while we watch TV?” I suggested, not altogether innocently.

Isla nodded and clambered into my lap. Looking back at me, she asked, “Where’s your mummy and daddy, Hailey?”

“My dad left me when I was little, and my mum’s gone on honeymoon with her new husband.”

“What’s a honeymoon?”

“It’s… like a holiday after you get married.”

“I don’t have a daddy,” Isla told me.

“Everyone has a daddy.”

“Not me. Mummy says I was just born one day because she wanted a baby.”

I laughed and ruffled her hair. “That’s silly.”

“It’s not,” Isla insisted, ruffling my hair back. Her bum wriggled around in my lap, and I couldn’t resist discreetly pushing my pelvis up against her.

“Do you ever sit like this with your mum?” I asked her, trying to steer the conversation towards something a little naughtier.

She nodded at me.

“What else do you do with Mummy?”

“Huh?”

“Do you… play doctors and nurses with her?”

Isla shook her head.

“Do you… sleep with Mummy in her bed?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you… cuddle each other in bed?”

The six-year-old grinned at me and shook her head again.

“You don’t have cuddles in bed?”

“I’m not allowed to talk about that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a secret,” she whispered to me, a finger held to her lips. “Shhh…”

“I won’t tell, I promise,” I assured her.

Isla went back to watching TV, but I wasn’t letting this go. Instead, I probed a little more. “I’ll tell you one of my secrets if you tell me yours, okay?”

She shrugged at me.

“Okay, here’s one of my secrets: The other day I found some rude toys in Aunt Rita’s drawer!”

Her eyes lit up at that. “Toys?”

“Not kids’ toys. Like adult toys that ladies use on their kitties!”

Isla seemed disappointed that my aunt’s drawers weren’t actually full of dolls, dinosaurs and teddy bears. “Oh. Mummy’s got some of those.”

“Has she?”

“Yeah.”

“And I found some rude videos, too! Of people having sex!” I thought it best not to mention the homemade video I had watched. Some actors don’t like to talk about their own work.

“Mummy has those, too. I’ve watched loads.”

That didn’t surprise me. “So… now it’s your turn to tell me your secret. What do you and Mummy do in bed?”

Isla looked around to make sure we were alone, which we obviously were. “Do you promise not to tell?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

She cupped her hands around her mouth and whispered into my ear, “We do lots of rude things together. Not just in bed, either. We do them everywhere!”

I gasped. “What kind of rude things?”

It all spilled out of her in an excited ramble. “Mummy kisses my secret bits and I kiss her secret bits and we touch each other all over and sometimes she makes me put my whole hand in her front bottom and one time she even made me do a big wee all over her!”

I was beginning to think the video was merely the tip of the iceberg. Now to move in for the kill…

“Wow! That sounds like so much fun! Maybe… maybe you could show me how to do some of those things?”

Isla seemed to give that some serious consideration. “Okay. But you mustn’t tell anyone, or the police will come and lock us up.”

“I definitely won’t tell anyone.”

Isla bounced off my lap and stuck her hands on her hips. “All right, then. First, you lie down on the floor.”

I did as the little girl instructed and stretched out on my back. “Like this?”

“Yeah. Now, this is what Mummy does to me sometimes.” Isla pulled her leggings and panties off, then stood over me, lowering herself into a squat over my face and spreading her delicate labia open. “You have to kiss it and lick it, okay?”

Her pussy was a puffy pale truffle, its blush interior hot and coppery against my tongue. The nearest I had ever come to tasting a vagina was sucking my own fingers clean after one of my masturbatory sessions, but this – a taste straight from the source – was a new experience.

“Do you like it, Hailey?” Isla asked me.

I can’t say for sure that I liked it. I certainly didn’t dislike it, but I think it was the sheer naughtiness that made it appealing – the forbidden nature of licking a younger girl’s pussy. “Yeah, it’s nice.”

Isla stood up suddenly, leaving me with my tongue hanging out.

“Hey, I wasn’t done,” I protested as she zoomed around the room in just her t-shirt.

The six-year-old climbed onto Aunt Rita’s leather couch and looked back at me with a grin. “Hailey, look!” She swung her leg over the arm of the sofa, then proceeded to grind herself on it, her pussy lips leaving a wet trail as they slid back and forth.

“I was having fun licking you. Is it okay if I do it some more?” I asked the little girl, eager to taste her again.

Isla giggled as she rode the armrest. “Hailey, take your clothes off and do what I’m doing on the other side of the sofa.”

“Uh… okay.” I pushed my leggings and knickers down my legs. I was about to mount the other armrest when I had a better idea. “Isla?”

“Hmm?”

“I could rub my pussy on your bum… you know, while you hump the sofa. Shall we do that?”

“Okay, then.”

I stood behind Isla and tried to push my cunt against her arse, but she was sitting too far forward. “Scoot back a bit,” I told her and put my hands round her waist, pulling her back towards the edge of the armrest. “That’s better.” Still holding onto her, I ground myself against her pert little bottom as she rubbed herself against the couch.

“It’s all warm on my bum!” Isla squealed.

“It feels really nice,” I said, thrusting against her. “Does Mummy do this to you?”

“Yep. She makes my bum really wet.”

“What else does she do to you?” I wanted to know all the perverted things Dr. Madeline and her daughter had been getting up to. I wanted to hear the words from the little girl’s mouth while I dry-fucked her.

“She rubs her boobies over my kitty and bumhole and then she makes me lick them,” the child told me.

“That’s… that’s really dirty. What else?”

“Um… she makes me put my whole hand in her front bottom, and she says, ‘Isla, push your hand in and out!’ and so I do and when I pull it out it’s got Mummy’s stuff all over it. Sometimes she says to me, ‘If you lick it all off like a good girl, I’ll buy you an ice-cream’.”

I could barely comprehend such a lewd image, but the rawness of it presented to me a potent erotic canvas with which to work. Curling my lip into a snarl, I scrubbed my throbbing cunt more forcefully  against Isla’s arse. “Wha–what else?”

“Mummy tells me to stand there and spread my bum open and then she licks my bumhole.”

Sinking down to the floor, I prised the little girl’s arse cheeks apart with both hands. “Like this?” I said, then lashed my tongue over her wrinkly little anus. I didn’t know if she was clean down there. Honestly, I didn’t much care.

“Yup!” Isla confirmed and ceased her grinding, allowing me my fill of her arsehole. She peered back at me with a big grin.

As the sour, earthy taste of the little girl’s pucker hit my taste buds, I found myself both repelled and attracted by this new act. On the cusp of adulthood, my first forays into the sexual world would never be this powerful; this potent ever again. Climaxes stung exquisitely, my ripening body unaccustomed to such sensations. Images of flesh and carnal filth bloomed brightly and indelibly in my mind, and heady, musky new aromas seeped into my consciousness, hypnotising me.

I found my feet, pressed myself against Isla and finished what I’d started, frantically grinding myself up and down the child’s bum, consumed by an animal lust I had no experience in controlling. I slapped her on the arse and heard myself yell, “You’re a dirty girl, Isla!”

“Ow!” Isla cried in outrage, screwing her face up. “You’re not allowed to do that, Hailey! I’ll tell my mum!”

I was about to apologise, but my impending climax would not be delayed nor denied. “Ohhh! That’s… that’s… oh!” It shuddered through my body with an intensity I’d seldom experienced, my eyes rolling wildly as I held myself tightly against Isla’s wet bum.

“Did you do a come?” the little girl enquired, evidently harbouring no serious grudge against me for whacking her on the arse.

“Yeah…” I panted, slumping against her.

“Do you want to have a little sleep now?”

“Uh, no, not really. Do you?”

“No. But Mummy sometimes likes to have a little sleep after we do big girl stuff.”

I had no intention of going to sleep. Aunt Rita and Madeline would probably be back in the next hour, and I didn’t know if I would get an opportunity like this again. “I’ll let you finger me if I can finger you, okay?” I ventured.

“Finger…?”

Slumping back down into the couch, I clumsily pulled my t-shirt off. “Yeah, when you put a finger inside a girl’s pussy and push it in and out. Did your mum ever do that to you?”

Isla tumbled off the armrest and landed next to me with a giggle. Trying to keep the attention of a six-year-old was no easy task, I realised. “Can we, Isla?”

“Yah, okay,” Isla agreed. She sat up and thrust a hand between my legs, penetrating me with a chubby finger. “You don’t have any hairs down there, just like me!”

“I have a few,” I told her, then found the entrance to the little girl’s vagina, slowly easing my way in. To my surprise, I found she no longer had her hymen. I’d broken mine with a little help from a hairbrush a year earlier, but I suspected Isla’s mother might have had something to do with the absence of her daughter’s.

“Can we watch some cartoons?” Isla said to me as she pistoned in and out of my cunt.

I pushed my finger deeper inside, and found her immature vagina tight, moist and exquisite. “I don’t think they show cartoons at this time of night.”

Withdrawing her digit from me, Isla sniffed it unashamedly.

“Does it smell?” I asked her.

“A bit. But Mummy’s is more strong,” she explained, then added, “I’ll lick your puss-puss if you want. Then we can watch TV till Mummy and Rita come home.”

So, having planned the rest of our evening, I sat back on the couch and spread my legs while my new playmate knelt on the floor and licked me out, her tiny tongue flicking over my labia and clitoris with an adeptness that wasn’t surprising, given that I’d already seen her plying her talents on Madeline and my aunt.

I came a second time that evening, and thought we were done. But little Isla had a final surprise for me.

“I need a wee,” I said.

“Me too,” Isla told me. “Let’s do one together!”

We made our way to the bathroom where I sat down on the loo and pissed, while Isla stood pigeon-toed in front of me and watched.

“Hailey?” the little girl piped.

“Yeah?” I replied, my piss slowing to a trickle.

“Watch this.”

Before I knew what was happening, Isla had thrust her hips out and a torrent of piss spouted from her, splashing against my chest and stomach.

“Oh, my God! Isla, no!”

“Don’t move, Hailey! I’m gonna aim through your legs,” the dirty little imp informed me.

“It – it’s not nice to wee on people without asking first, okay?” I told her, then realised how ridiculous that sounded.

Isla giggled gleefully, clearly pleased with herself. She shuffled closer and closer towards me as her piss slowed, and by the time the last few drops had dripped down between my legs into the toilet below, she was standing over me with a big gap-toothed grin.

I couldn’t help but smile back. “You’re really naughty,” I told her and kissed her on the belly button.

***

When next the Selkie came ashore to sing her song, the lighthouse keeper was waiting. He crept across the sand and stole her sealskin, hiding it in a secret place.

The Selkie, in her despair, wailed and wept and mourned her lost skin, knowing that without it she would never be able to return to the ocean. The lighthouse keeper gave her comfort and offered sanctuary within his lighthouse, and soon the two of them fell in love and married.

But the Selkie was never truly happy upon land. She pined for the azure sea, and for her own kind, and though she truly did love the lighthouse keeper, each night she would return to the shore and sing a song of lamentation for the ocean, her true home…

When Aunt Rita and Madeline returned from the pub, Isla and I were tucked up on the couch with a duvet over us. The six-year-old was fast asleep, her head against my chest.

“Well, it looks like two little pixies have been making friends,” a drowsy eyed Madeline cooed as she sat on the arm of the couch, stroking her daughter’s hair. Her nostrils flared and she seemed to catch something in the air. Looking me in the eye, she smiled knowingly. “And perhaps more than friends…”

I took a discreet little sniff, but couldn’t detect any vestige of our erotic play session. Regardless, Madeline didn’t seem to give it any more thought. She picked a sleepy-eyed Isla up, thanked me for babysitting, then left for home. I wrapped the quilt around my body and retired to my room.

I was idly fingering myself to sleep when Aunt Rita called my name from the bottom of the spiral staircase. I quickly pulled my hand out of my pyjamas. “Yes?”

“Can I come up?”

“Sure.”

She sauntered into my room and stood over me as I lay in bed, the dim light of my bedside lamp casting her seductive shadow across my room. Slowly, ever so slowly, she pulled her nightgown open.

I let out a barely audible gasp.

“Isla forgot her doll,” my aunt told me, glancing down at the plastic toy sticking out of her cunt, its legs half buried, as if it were in the process of being devoured by some carnivorous monstrosity.

“Oh,” I said, dumbstruck, then added, “I…I can take it round to her tomorrow.”

Aunt Rita grasped the doll and began fucking herself with it, liquid sounds accompanying each thrust. “You’re such a good girl,” she murmured. “Thank you for babysitting tonight.”

“Y–you’re welcome,” I stuttered.

“Your uncle’s back tomorrow.”

“Oh. Okay.”

My nose picked up the scent of her arousal as she went back and forth with the doll, and without thinking much about it I pushed back the bedspread and slipped a hand back beneath my pyjama bottoms to masturbate along with my aunt.

“I wonder if she would have turned out like you,” Aunt Rita mused as she fucked herself.

“Who?” I near-whispered.

“The One Who… Got Away.” My aunt bucked her hips and let out a guttural cry. “Fuck, yes!” She pulled the sodden toy from her cunt and my eyes followed a trickle of pussy juice as it oozed slowly down her inner thigh.

She kissed me on the forehead. “When your uncle sets out to sea again, I want to spend more time with you. Get to know you better. Okay?”

“Okay,” I replied, still idly toying with myself.

My aunt placed the doll on my pillow, swept my hair away from my eyes and then disappeared down the stairs.

I turned my head towards the glistening toy and told it, “That was different.”

***

To this day I can’t really say whether I dreamed it or not – the song that waxed and waned on the ocean breeze. Certainly it began in my dreams, though when my eyes fluttered open, still it lingered, faint on the wind.

I climbed from my bed, crept downstairs, and ever so quietly closed the front door of the cottage behind me. I pattered down cobbled streets, that sweet voice drawing me ever closer. Down to the harbour, stark and silent in the small hours of the morning. Past The Mal De Mer on the corner, its last patron long ushered out the doors. To the beach, where the wraith-like singer stood and serenaded the ocean.

Madeline – gown of sheer satin draped across her form like a sea mist, dark hair flowing down her back like briny kelp. Her voice carried a strange cadence across the waters, its rhythm rising and falling as the waves – a sweet coda that hinted at some darker, more primal truth down in the dark depths, deep beneath the surface.

She turned to me and smiled and I felt her glamour upon me. “Pretty Hailey…”

My eyes snapped open to find myself back in my bed, but the sand between my toes told me it had been no mere dream.

Each night she would return to the shore and sing a song of lamentation for the ocean, her true home…

My fertile imagination led me to but one conclusion:

Madeline… Madeline was a selkie…

On to Chapter Three!