It didn’t take long, not long at all. One week, in fact, and at the end of that week they were in Amanda’s bed, between her sheets, together.
It was every bit as good as she’d known it would be. Denise’s body was well-tended, and vibrated with health and life. She had the proportions of a classical statue. Her tits were the best Amanda had ever encountered, perfectly balanced and formed. She felt almost privileged to hold them.
Denise, meanwhile, was doing her thing on Amanda’s cunt, using her fingers with the skill of a surgeon to coax her into a growing avidity, and Amanda reciprocated the delightful favour.
The hands wanked each other lasciviously, until Denise, with a sudden, determined action, dived down to Amanda’s groin, pushed her head between Amanda’s legs, and rasped her tongue all along Amanda’s slit.
“Aaaaah. . . !” Amanda couldn’t keep in check the screech of unmitigated delight which burst from her at the touch of Denise’s probing tongue.
And the screeches grew louder and more persistent as Denise pushed her tongue inside Amanda’s love gate, and began to explore and caress her inner walls.
A compulsion gripped her; what else could she possibly do but again return the favour?
She made her own dive, and came face to face with Denise’s aperture, an aperture which she quickly made sure was tongue plugged.
And that was how they detonated together, two tongues and two twats in fine tune, producing two writhing, almost impossible to bear, frenzies, which left them gasping and flapping like two fish stranded on a beach.
But not for long. The tide quickly returned, the two fish revived and regrouped their energies, then were at each other again, locked together in that sweet conjunction, sending each other wheeling up into the stratosphere of their desire for each other, and of the satisfaction that they eagerly brought each other with hands, lips and tongues.
That had been three years ago; and Amanda simply could not get enough of Denise. Denise could be ruthless and driving, but also, sometimes, tender and teasing. She could draw the encounter out to an exquisite age, she could make it fast, breathless and overwhelming. Sometimes Amanda felt as if she was no more than a slave to Denise’s will, her own quim and tits merely Denise’s possessions to use as she liked. How Denise did it all, Amanda didn’t know; but she did it.
And now Amanda saw that she had come to live for nothing else; and she had slowly begun to resent this enthralment. Increasingly she recalled and dwelt upon those times when she’d been free and easy, at liberty to go for any female who made her fanny flare, and, when the time came, to part from her without regret. It wasn’t like that now. Denise had begun to have power over her. And Amanda didn’t like it.
And not only that; Denise, she knew, wasn’t too much bothered with her. She knew that. Once, when they were lying side by side in bed, Amanda had asked, half-seriously, “Hey! What would you feel if I left you today?”, and Denise hadn’t even bothered to reply, just shrugging casually, and turning away to go to sleep.
Denise would merely find someone else to fuck.
In fact she was already involved with someone else. Amanda had accidentally overheard one of the female assistants say to Denise pleadingly, “You were fantastic when you tongued me off last night. Please – will you do it again soon? Oh, please . . .” So Denise was having her, obviously. And were there any others as well? Amanda was jealous, and she didn’t like the unfamiliar emotion.
No, Denise didn’t bother about her much. She even talked openly about a desire to move on, to go somewhere else. And she didn’t talk of them going together.
Amanda replaced the cap on the bottle. She had no intention of going down that dead end road. That would solve nothing.
There was only one way she was going to escape from this chain that bound her to Denise, to recover the light-hearted, carefree existence she’d previously known. She’d get away, go some place where Denise wasn’t. Do it cold turkey. The separation would hurt, but that would pass, then she’d be footloose and fancy free once more, able to take up and put down her pleasures when she chose.
She suddenly remembered the advert for the superstore an American firm was opening in Leeds as its first venture into Britain. They were looking for all kinds of staff, including department supervisors, where her experience would surely give her an advantage. And she’d been to Leeds before and liked the place. She was sure it would be pleasant to live there full time. If she could get a job there, it would be the start of her new life, away from Denise.
Where was that advert?
She hunted among the pile of magazines in the rack until she found it. She took it over to the small writing desk in the corner. An old-fashioned hand-written letter, using her ultra-tidy script, would be best, she thought. A nice personal touch. Finding a pencil and paper, she scanned the ad and found the name of the Personnel Officer – a Mr Rowley – then began to prepare the rough draft . . .
“Well, now, you’ve met nearly everybody,” Mr Rowley said cheerfully. “There’s only one or two more to come. And in just one week’s time we’ll be open for business. Are you looking forward to it?”
“Very much,” Amanda replied.
“So am I,” Mr Rowley said. “And have you settled well into your new flat?” he went on.
“I’m very comfortable,” Amanda told him. “It’s quite spacious and nicely located, and—”
A knock at the door interrupted her.
“Excuse me one moment,” Mr Rowley said apologetically. “Come in!” he called.
The door opened.
“Ah,” said Mr Rowley. “Amanda, I’d like you to meet the person who’ll be assisting me as Deputy Personnel Officer.”
“Hello, Amanda,” said Denise, with a smile.
Therapy
Helen Stevens
She lifted the hem on her uniform, fastened her suspenders and straightened the lace at the top of her silk stockings. One last check of her tight bun and soft makeup and she was ready for the day. If only they knew what she had on under her dress.
“Notes on the calendar for today say we have a visit from a new resident this afternoon. Mr Dunbar is an ex-serviceman in his late fifties, who recently had a stroke and now is in need of twenty-four-hour care. He will be moving in to the recently vacated single room in the Riverside Unit in two weeks time. Today he is coming for afternoon tea, a chance to look around again and meet his new key worker.” Jo spoke confidently and openly to the group of nurses gathered around the large oak dining table sipping at much needed steaming mugs of coffee.
“I know it won’t be the same as having Mrs Jessop here. I know we all miss her dearly, it was a difficult passing, but we all have to realize that she is no longer suffering. In this profession we have to be able to remove ourselves from our feelings for the residents and move on.” The other nurses nodded in agreement.
“This morning’s main duties are the usual mixture of routine tasks. All beds are to be stripped and remade, residents washed and dressed and into the breakfast room for eight am please. Mrs Mayfield in room nine is asking for another dressing for her pressure sore, so I shall be there should anyone need me. Please can we remember to turn her hourly, left to right to relieve the pressure, noting which side? Lastly, Abbie, please could you come to my office after the meeting? I would like to brief you on the new gentleman. You will be his key person.”
A few moans went around the group. Jo continued ignoring the noises.
“Is there anything to report this morning from the night staff?” The nurses shook their collective heads.
“Good, then that concludes our meeting. Off you go, ladies.” Jo stood from her seat and moved into her office whilst the other nurses proceeded to go about their duties. She heard the mumble of ill content, questions of favouritism and the usual moaning and groaning of a six a.m. breakfast shift as she filed away the meeting notes of the morning.
She was just closing the filing cabinet as there was a tap on the door.
“You wanted to see me, Matron?” A slender, pretty nurse stood meekly in the doorway, her soft auburn hair pulled tight into a French plait, her uniform starched to perfection.
“Come in, Abbie, and close the door behind you, please.” Jo moved from the filing cabinet to stand behind her desk and sat down heavily in her faux leather office chair.
Abbie’s regulation issue black, rubber-soled shoes squeaked as she shut the door and made her way towards one of the chairs on the nearside of the desk. Sitting demurely she crossed her legs and placed her hands in her lap, eager to listen and learn.
“I hate all this seriousness and pomposity,” Jo said as she removed her clip from her hair. Her bun fell loose, letting her hair cascade around her shoulders.
“Oh, I don’t know, I actually think it’s quite funny, and in a way, it turns me on! I love you being all domineering. I’ve been working here for three months now and it’s driving me insane seeing you be ’Matron’ every morning.” Jo pulled a smile as Abbie made a “tiger-pawing” motion and the growl to accompany it.
“So, what’s this new chap like?” Abbie asked. Jo was glad for the change of subject – anything that distracted her from the urge to climb over the desk and ravish Abbie was good. Jo pulled a file from her desk drawer and handed the care plan over to her. She sat in silence, for about ten minutes, as Abbie flipped through the file and gathered some of the necessary details.
“Feel free to take it away with you for a while and have a good read. Are you free for lunch today?”
Abbie smiled coyly.
“Of course I am. You never rota me in for a lunch time shift.”
“I’d never get to see you if I did,” Jo interrupted.
“Melanie isn’t in today and we’ve got an agency staff in, so I’ll need to be floating about. What have you got in mind?” Abbie asked.
Jo stepped around the desk and leant in close to the nurse. Abbie could feel her warm, coffee-scented breath on her cheek.
“Just meet me in the treatment room at ten past one. I’ll see you there once I’ve done the medication rounds. I’ll let you in on a surprise.”
Abbie smiled and then stood to leave the room.
“Speaking of surprises, you should see what I have in my lunch box today,” she laughed. As her hand rested on the door handle Jo wrapped her arms around Abbie’s shoulders and laid soft kisses on the nape of her neck. She opened the door slightly and then stopped.
“Urn . . . Matron. Don’t forget your bun!” Abbie giggled as she left the office, leaving Jo looking in the mirror, tying her hair back into the tight bun that she had had at the morning meeting.
Both nurses continued about their daily routines, not meeting again until the medication round at breakfast. Despite the distance across the busy breakfast room the desire between Jo and Abbie was palpable. The two nurses were engrossed in their illicit affair, and were excited by the danger of being caught conducting it directly under the noses of their employers, colleagues and partners. Both women continued to attend to the needs of the residents of the Albright Nursing Home for the Elderly and Infirm. Despite their distraction, their mutual profession tightened the bond between them. They truly understood each other’s work-related stresses and didn’t need to go into lengthy discussions in order to explain the day’s events to each other, unlike when they went home to their partners.
Jo had been married for almost a year to Dave, who was a bricklayer. Jo had known about her bisexuality since she was about thirteen, when she had realized the feelings she had for a female friend were more physical than her feelings for her boyfriend of the time. Abbie had been in a relationship with Helena for six months, but they were still at the dating stage and neither was ready to commit any further. The nurses had embarked on their affair just a month after Abbie was employed at the home. After some serious drinking and flirting on a staff night out which resulted in them sneaking away early to Jo’s apartment they had become engaged in the affair. Jo had returned home in the early hours of the morning, sexually exhausted and smelling like a brothel. She had spent an hour in the shower, scrubbing away the guilt of her adultery, before climbing into bed with Dave. Over the next few weeks she had tried to deny her feelings for Abbie. In the end she had given in. Since then the women had been meeting in secret whenever they were able.
Once the after breakfast medications were administered, Jo returned to her office and despite her growing pile of paperwork and medication charts, she allowed herself ten minutes of quiet contemplation. Of course her mind was focused on one subject – Abbie. And the thought of her bending over beds, tucking in sheets was making her more excited as the minutes ticked on. That vision was enough to keep her imagination occupied whilst she worked tirelessly through her duties until lunch.
Abbie too thought constantly about Jo, but the regular interactions with the residents were a pleasant distraction and assisted with her concentration as she continued about her morning duties. Lunchtime soon came around and once all the residents had been tended to, Abbie relaxed enough to feel the excitement of her tryst with Jo. It gathered in the pit of her stomach like a whirlwind of rampantly agitated butterflies.
Jo went about her medication rounds as Abbie cleared away the dishes into the kitchen. Once the agency staff had departed to the sitting room with the tea trolley Jo wheeled the medication chest back into her office, locked the door behind her, and slipped away silently along the corridor to the small treatment room next to the laundry store. They had chosen this location for their meetings as the laundry was only used by the night staff and it was in a secluded location away from the rest of the building. Also, Jo was the only member of staff who had the key apart, of course, from Abbie, who had been given a sneaky copy by Jo.
The treatment room was used for anything from alternative therapy to counselling and even though it was sparsely decorated, it was both comforting and relaxing. A sumptuous day bed occupied one corner of the room opposite a small sink unit. The indulgent cushions, pillows and bolsters scattered across its breadth clashed with the clinical nature of the therapy couch and overall decor of the room. Jo drew the vertical blinds; almost completely blocking out the midday sun and switched on a small table lamp which threw a pink hue across the room, softening its atmosphere.
Unable to find anything more appropriate than Mozart to put on the compact disc player, Jo hit the play button just as Abbie sidled in through the door, closing it softly as she came. Abbie stood with her back to the door, her hands still nervously clinging to the handle.
“Shouldn’t you be changing Mr. Johnson’s sheets at this precise moment?” Jo asked in her best “supervisor” voice, stifling a giggle.
“You know full well I would have been at this time. I’ve already done it. It was the fastest sheet change he’s ever seen; might even have set a new world record. Who’s minding the tea trolley?”
“Grace, the agency lady. I’ve nipped off to do paperwork if anyone asks her. We can be missing for a whole blissful hour and no one will notice.”
Jo moved slowly across the room towards Abbie, the nervous excitement obvious in her movements. With a swift motion she placed her foot on the end of the therapy couch and swept back her navy blue starched uniform to reveal the deep lace of her sheer black stockings beneath. Abbie drew a sharp breath in. Jo was stunning. At a little over five foot nine and easily an extra large, her voluptuous curves oozed femininity and sex appeal. Her large hazelnut eyes were indeed windows to her soul, open and wanting and her blue-black hair shone like satin when it hung loose about her shoulders. It was all too much to resist. Abbie was turned on by her personality as well as her appearance and when she considered the two coupled together she almost exploded with desire.
“I bet Mr Davies in room eighteen just loved those this morning, didn’t he?” Abbie spluttered.
“Almost had to call an ambulance. Thought he might have had a heart attack. At least I can be thankful he couldn’t see the rest of my underwear ben
eath this uniform. If it had been white cotton not navy, I swear, he would have needed a defibrillator, not a bed bath.”
Both women laughed softly. Abbie released the handle of the door and moved towards Jo, crossing the room eagerly.
“What exactly is holding those stockings up today? They’re not regulation white hold-ups, are they, so what’s supporting them?”
Abbie reached to the collar of Jo’s uniform and began slowly undoing it, popper by popper, revealing the slightly padded cups and fine boning of a black lace basque. She reached down slowly and traced a line of kisses along each of Jo’s collarbones. Jo moaned in delight, slipping her hands to Abbie’s waist and releasing the butterfly clasp of her elastic belt. It fell to the floor with a clatter, which disguised the loud groan made by Jo as Abbie deftly removed her breast from its warm cup and gently took her large, already erect nipple into her mouth. She expertly caressed it with her tongue, her lips sucking greedily on her areola. Jo took Abbie by the forearms and guided her up to a full standing position so that they were nose to nose. The couple looked into each other’s eyes, savouring the moment of closeness that drew them together for an eternity. Their lips met and the passion inside them, that they kept bottled up inside between rendezvous, exploded like a million fireworks going off at once.
The heat and the passion between them grew; their bodies writhed against each others as their tongues explored, hungrily searching for satisfaction. Abbie removed Jo’s belt and peeled her uniform from her shoulders. The heavy starched material sat awkwardly at her feet, leaving her stood in her splendid basque for Abbie to admire. Jo shuddered with exhilaration as the cool breeze from the slightly open window and the excitement of the exposure caused her skin to erupt into millions of goose pimples.
At the sight of her lover’s ravishing underwear, Abbie felt her own rigid nipples pressing tightly against the constraint of her uniform and with one deft pull, unfastened the poppers revealing her pert ample breasts heaving in her white, cut lace bra. She shrugged her dress from her shoulders and stepped out of it, kicking it to one side as she did so to divulge a matching pair of tight French knickers, a suspender belt and white lace top stockings.
The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica Page 29
