by Carla Blake
“Kept pigeons,” Maple said, taking up the tale. “Used to go down to the lawns to feed them cake and she gave them all names, like she could actually tell one from the other. She even wrote them a Christmas card and left it perched in the flower bed. Definitely a nut case. Have you got any strange habits we should know about?”
Elena shook her head, “Not that I know of. You?”
Freya stood up. “Only one,” she said, crossing the room to run a single finger across Elena’s back, “I’m a raving dyke.”
Elena lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling. It had definitely been a weird day. After her confession, Freya had left the room, leaving her alone with Maple, who’d busied herself sorting through a pile of books before announcing she had to get to her next class. She’d made no mention of Freya’s confession, leaving Elena to surmise that Maple was either used to the idea of Freya being gay or Freya had been lying and Maple didn’t want to give the game away. And it was still playing on her mind now, hours after she’d been given another tour of the school, assigned exercise books, eaten in the huge dining room and witnessed the haughty attitude of the extremely rich girls in room 6.
She was exhausted.
And excited, because Freya was lovely.
“Hey, sleepyhead, wake up!”
Reluctantly Elena opened her eyes. She’d been dreaming about home, specifically about being in her old room with all her familiar clothes and books and faithful Sebastian, who was currently tucked upside down underneath her left leg.
Freya shook her again. “Come on you, it might be Saturday, but you still need to get up for breakfast and if you don’t hurry all the hot water will be gone.”
The hot water was not all gone but Elena’s idea of a relaxing Saturday morning was. The bathrooms were noisy and steaming and filled with girls wrapped in towels and elbowing each other out of the way so they could see in the mirrors. The showers themselves were divided by tiled walls with curtains across the entrance so Elena could at least shower in relative privacy, but once out in the main bathroom she was fair game for everyone and the questions came thick and fast; her name, her past, her old school. Did she like hockey or netball best? Did she have any hot brothers? Sisters?
It was enough to make her head spin and by the time she sat down for breakfast she was wishing she could just crawl back under the duvet and hide.
Miss Wingate sought her out, “How you managing?” she asked, sitting down next to her, her hands wrapped round a mug of steaming tea, “Freya and Maple being kind to you?”
“Yes. They’ve both been very helpful.”
“No ghost stories?”
“Not yet.”
Miss Wingate rolled her eyes. “Give them time.”
Freya plonked herself down on Elena’s other side and bumped her with her thigh. “You ok newbie?”
Elena nodded and Miss Wingate got up to leave, fixing Freya with a warning look before walking away from the table.
“She thinks you’re going to scare me witless with stories of ghosts.” Elena said, biting into a slice of toast. “Are you?”
Freya rolled her eyes. “Not now I’m not. How you doing though? It’s all a bit overwhelming to start with isn’t it?” And she gave Elena’s hand a brief squeeze.
“I’m ok I think,” Elena replied, amazed at how thrilled she was by the touch of Freya’s hand. “I just wish it was about a month or so on and I’d know what the hell I was doing.”
“Well, you’ve got me and Maple to keep you on track until then, so have no fear. Do you remember what happens after brekkie?”
Screwing up her face, Elena concentrated. “Lessons till one and then dinner, followed by an afternoon of free time to do homework, then tea and bed I guess.”
Freya clapped. “Not bad, except for the homework bit, blow that, no one uses a Saturday afternoon to study. I thought me and Maple could show you round the grounds and the pub.”
“The school has a pub!”
“Don’t be daft. The village has a pub, the school has the grounds. What you think? Up for it?”
They sat beneath a willow, its long, frond like leaves reaching down to sweep the grass like a housemaid fussing about with the floor.
Freya played with strands of grass, weaving them between her fingers before pulling them free and tossing them away whilst Maple, sitting in the shade, leant back on her arms, her face tilted to the sky. She had taken out her contact lens and now Elena had seen how pale her eyes really were she wanted to see them again.
“Take a good look.” Maple said when she caught Elena looking at her, “I don’t mind, I’m kinda used to it. Just wait till the hair dye starts washing out though, then you’re in for a shock.”
“She looks like a polar bear.” Freya laughed.
Maple pulled a face. “Thanks very much. Least I’m interesting. What have you got eh?”
“Magnificent tits.”
This time they all laughed.
“There should be a lake here, don’t you think?” Elena said after a while, “Willows generally grow by water don’t they?”
“There was, once,” Maple said, opening her eyes to sweep a hand in front of her. “If you look, you can see the dip in the grass where it used to be.”
“So why did they fill it in?” Elena replied, tracing the outline of a huge circle, only slightly lower than the surrounding lawn.
“Someone drowned.” Freya cut in, “a student called Lorna Browning. Came home drunk from the village and wandered a bit too close to the edge. Didn’t find her for days apparently and then she was all bloated and slimy and reeking of pond weed.”
“Lovely.”
“Some say she haunts the lake,” Maple added, “or at least where the lake once was. I’ve never seen her though.”
“Like you’ve looked,” Freya commented.
Maple raised an eyebrow. “Why would I? Would you want to spend a night out in the freezing cold waiting for a wailing, sopping wet ghost? I’ve got better things to do.”
“Like what?” Freya asked mischievously. “What better things do you get up to in the middle of the night?”
Maple merely looked at her. “You know.”
Elena wanted to know too, but that was apparently the end of the conversation because Freya suddenly suggested they get off to the pub and clambering to their feet, they set off across the lawn to the main gate.
The pub was nosy and full and a group of lads were gathered at the far end watching football on a widescreen TV, cheering loudly whenever their team scored.
Sitting at one of the beer marked tables, Elena felt ridiculously conspicuous and even though she was not wearing her uniform, she felt sure that everyone in the pub knew where they had come from. She also didn’t like the way a trio of older men were watching them from their perch at the bar. It made her feel creepy the way they kept running their eyes over her and after a while she turned her seat so all they could see was her back.
“Ignore ‘em.” Freya said, when Elena suggested they move to another table. “They’re just a bunch of sad, old men who haven’t had a decent fuck in ages. They’ll piss off before too long.”
Elena hoped they would. She didn’t like this pub, with its football crowd, stained carpet and male domination, especially as, aside from the three of them, there was only one other female in residence and she was serving behind the bar. Plus there was the weight of the continued stare on her back and the revolting cola she was drinking, neither of which was doing anything to make this a better experience. She’d been better off by the ‘lake.’
“Can we go now?” She asked, hoping the other two wouldn’t think her a misery for suggesting it. They were only trying to be kind after all, showing her around, introducing her to places they went, but this pub was the pits and she had already made up her mind she would
never come here again.
“Now why would a pretty, little thing like you want to leave so soon?”
The voice, distinctly male, came from behind her and turning round, Elena came face to face with one of the men at the bar. He was, she decided, fifty if he was a day, with greying hair and a beer belly that slopped over the top of his jeans. He also stunk of beer and when he smiled she caught the full force of his ale ridden breath.
“I have to get back.” She said, wishing he would just go away. “Please excuse me.”
He didn’t budge an inch. “Oh, we have a lady.” He grinned, “Guess you’re from that posh school. How about I buy you a nice drink? Wine maybe or something a bit more fancy. Cocktail perhaps?”
Elena shoved her chair into his legs. “I’d prefer to just go!” She said, wishing the smart mouthed Freya would speak up and save her from this cretin. “Please will you move!”
The man stepped aside. “Of course my dear,” he smiled, bowing at the waist. “But before you go, how about a little kissy?”
“What?!!”
“I don’t think so mate.” Freya growled, at last standing up and making her way round to Elena’s side of the table. “She’s not your type mate.”
“Oh yeah? And how would you know?”
“Because she’s mine, you moron.” And taking hold of Elena’s hand, Freya pulled her towards her and planted a lingering kiss on her mouth.
Elena couldn’t get the kiss out of her mind. The look on the bloke’s face had been amazing, his slack jawed disbelief following them all the way out of the pub and impounded by the fact that at the precise moment Freya had kissed her, the football fans had also cheered, although Elena was still undecided whether it was for them or because the ball had just gone in the back of the net.
But the kiss had definitely lodged itself in her head and now she couldn’t stop replaying it, over and over, the way Freya had held her hand, the feel of her lips on hers, the way her heart had skipped a beat, the way both Freya and Maple had giggled over it all the way back to the school whilst she had merely followed behind, wanting to join in their laughter but wanting more than anything for it to have been real because this simple kiss had completely rocked her world and now, lying in bed with Maple and Freya both asleep across the room, she replayed it yet again whilst her hand strayed first beneath the covers and then carried on beneath her nightie.
Her nipples were hard, which hardly surprised her. She was turned on, excited by another girl’s kiss.
Another girl. Even those two, simple words were erotic.
She had never kissed another girl before. Probably not even held hands with one since she was at Primary school. Girls were her friends, her shopping companions, someone she went to the pictures with to cry over some soppy Rom-com and bemoan the fact that her bloody hair wouldn’t ‘go’, but never her lover. She hadn’t even given the idea much thought.
Yet here she was, her whole body tingling at the memory of a kiss that had lasted less than five seconds.
Squeezing her nipple between thumb and forefinger, she pressed her thighs together as a thrill of desire quickly shivered down to her groin and a moan sprang to her lips. Catching it in time, she bit her lip and told herself that if she was going to play with herself, she was going to have to be quiet.
Her hand moved down, stroking her belly, the muscles there contracting as if trying to hurry her hand along. Her skin felt warm and as she reached the edge of her knickers, she cupped herself over the fabric, feeling the heat from her pussy rising through the thin material.
The memory of the kiss floated through her mind.
Freya.
Her eyes drifted over to where Freya was sleeping, a dark shape curled up beneath the mound of her duvet.
She wanted to wake her, to beg her to kiss her again, to put her hand where her own was now. She wanted Freya to fuck her, to make love to her, to smother her mouth and kiss her until she could no longer breathe.
She wanted to understand how she could possibly be feeling this way?
She’d never craved another girl before. Never thought of herself as being gay or having gay tendencies. Yet, having another girl touch her was all she could think of.
It was driving her mad.
Her fingers delved beneath her panties and slipped then down her thighs, carefully, so as not to make a sound, she lifted her knees and spread her legs.
Her pussy was swollen and she thought of the kiss as she slipped a finger beneath her plump lips and tickled the entrance to her vagina. She was wet, wetter than she had been for a while and she quickly pushed a finger inside herself, her mouth opening in a silent gasp as the velvet softness of her insides sucked at the welcome intrusion.
Closing her eyes, she imagined it was Freya lying in bed beside her, her naked body pressed against her own, her finger busily pumping in and out of her moist cunt as she fucked herself and bit her lip, wanting more than anything to say Freya’s name out loud.
Because, Oh God, she wanted her!
She inserted another finger, sliding it in easily, her cunt awash with juices as she fucked herself, drawing her fingers almost completely out before pushing them back in again to allow her cunt to feel every thrust.
Her nipples ached and she squeezed them in turn, squirming and writhing in the bed, the duvet now a twisted mess around her as she let go of her nipple and found her clit, her finger rapidly massaging the sensitive nub whilst her other hand fed two fingers in and out of her dripping hole.
She came as quietly as she could, her legs spread so far apart they ached when she tried to close them again.
But it was good and she rode every last drop of her orgasm, allowing it to carry her away before returning her, breathless and sweaty, to find Freya, standing at the bottom of her bed.
“Oh! Freya! I...”
“Sshhh. Open your legs.”
Elena did as she was asked.
Freya nodded, then lifting up the duvet, she slid a hand beneath the covers, ran a single finger along the length of Elena’s still damp pussy and then lifted it to her lips.
The next morning, Elena woke to an empty room. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was just after nine, but neither Freya or Maple were in their beds which she thought rather strange seeing as how it was a Sunday and they had a precious opportunity to lie in, so where were they?
A chill ran through her as her mind abruptly reminded her of the events of last night. She had nearly come a second time when Freya had stroked her cunt and licked her lips, but she hadn’t done anything else except thank her and return to her own bed, leaving her feeling mortified that she had been seen and even more horrified at the thought of Freya and Maple now tucked away together somewhere having a good laugh at her expense.
What if they told the whole school?
What if everyone laughed at her or was disgusted by what she’d done?
She’d die!
The door to the bedroom opened and Freya walked in, carrying a tray with a cup of tea and several slices of toast resting on it.
“Thought you might like brekkie in bed, seeing as it’s your first Sunday here,” She smiled. “The rest of the herd are in the dining room, fighting over sausages. Did you want one? A sausage I mean.”
Elena shook her head. “Er, no, thanks. You didn’t have to do this.”
“I know, but after last night I thought you deserved it.”
Elena blushed. Oh God, how was she going to explain this? Truth was she couldn’t. It was obvious what she’d been doing. Freya had seen her. Tasted her even! She knew she’d been pleasuring herself!
Embarrassed beyond belief, Elena buried her face in her hands and wished she could fall through a hole in the floor.
Freya’s bulk settling itself on the side of her bed wasn’t any great comfort either. Elena di
dn’t think she’d ever be able to look at her again.
“You’re not going to be able to eat like that you know.” Freya said, obviously buttering the toast, judging by the amount of scraping that was going on. “And you can look at me, you know. I won’t bite. Or laugh, or whatever else it is you think I’m going to do.”
“I am so embarrassed.” Elena admitted, slowly unfurling her fingers. “I don’t know what to say. I thought you were asleep. I never would have..”
“I’m glad I wasn’t.” Freya cut in, “or I would have missed your gorgeous pussy cream. You tasted delicious by the way. Jam?”
Elena blinked. This was surreal! Freya had watched her fuck herself, she had even dipped a finger into her juices and licked them clean! Now she was asking her if she wanted jam on her toast! It was bloody weird!
“Well? Do we have a decision here?”
“Er, yes, please.”
“Drink your tea, it’ll be getting cold.”
Elena took a sip. Freya had added sugar, something she didn’t normally do, but she was thankful for it. She felt like she was in shock even if she wasn’t, “About last night.” She began.
Freya handed her a slice of toast, thickly spread with jam. “What about it?”
“I don’t normally...”
“Do that sort of thing.” Freya was getting good at finishing her sentences. “Why are you so het up about it? We all do it, even the posh tarts in room 6, although I’m pretty sure they don’t come, they ‘arrive’.”
Elena smiled. “That’s good, but it’s not just about you seeing me, it’s more than that. I’m not sure how to put this.”
“Plainly,” Freya said. “It’s Sunday. My brain switched off sometime last night and isn’t due a re-boot till tomorrow morning, so just spit it out girl. I can take it.”
“I fancy you.”
There, she had said it. In truth, it wasn’t what she had wanted to say, she had intended to go all round the houses and try and sound Freya out before she admitted to such a thing, but all of a sudden she couldn’t be bothered. She simply wanted to know if Freya felt the same way and if she didn’t, then stop herself from getting any more embroiled in something that would ultimately break her heart.
