Woman to Woman

by Tom Benson

  When they’d completed the homework, Alison suggested that she have a shower and change before they go for a walk to a local park.

  Alison came back to her room from the bathroom with a large bath towel wrapped around her, which covered from under her arms to halfway down her legs.

  “While I get dressed, Lauren, if you like you can have a look through that new ‘Teens’ magazine.”

  “I will, thanks.” Lauren picked up the magazine and flicked through a few pages, but she found herself distracted by something much more interesting, and not too far away.

  Alison had dried herself and was bent over to lift fresh underwear from a drawer. She glanced at her full-length mirror. “Lauren—what are you doing?”

  “I’m sorry … I just looked up … and—”

  “You were looking at my buttocks, Lauren.” As she said the words, Alison grabbed the damp towel and held it in front of her body, covering her pert breasts and the small wisps of light hair at the junction of her shapely thighs.

  “You’ve got a lovely body, Alison … and I just—”

  “Is that what our friendship is about—you’ve tried boys and … now it’s my turn. You want a girl next?”

  “No, honestly, I looked up and … I couldn’t take my eyes from you.” Lauren was digging a deeper hole and unable to climb out.

  “I think you should take your things and go, Lauren, please.” Alison looked down. “Go, please—I don’t think I’d feel comfortable—”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “Please, Lauren. Maybe we can still be friends at school, but I want you to go now.”

  * * *

  .

  Wednesday 14th June, 1995

  Scarborough, England

  A coach was organised to take pupils to the seaside for the day, and although it started out as a geography lesson, by mid-afternoon, Miss Farmer, the teacher relented and let the group of fifteen-year-olds have two hours to themselves.

  “Everybody back to the coach park for half past four, please—don’t let me down.”

  “Thank you, Miss.” The pupils bomb-bursted into different directions and had disappeared among the tourists within five minutes.

  Lauren set off alone, bought a bottle of coke and wandered along the seafront. She found an unoccupied bench and pulled out her pad to sketch the scenes around her. Drawing had been a hobby since she was big enough to hold a pencil. Sketches were made of the north cliff and where it met the beach, and then there was a rough layout of the seascape with tankers on the horizon.

  “They’re excellent.” It was a familiar voice, but that of a boy who was quieter than most.

  “Hi, Graham—thank you.” Lauren was pleasant to her classmate, having known him for three years, and he was one of the shy, serious, academic types. “Have you been spying on me?”

  “No, I’m s … sorry, Lauren. I wouldn’t do that—not to you.”

  “Oh, who would you do it to?” She teased and smiled.

  “I was just—”

  “Calm down, Graham.” Lauren laughed. She couldn’t help herself and tried her luck. “Would you like to join me?”

  “I’d love to join you.”

  “If you buy me another bottle of coke and a bar of milk chocolate, you can sit with me.”

  “Right.” Graham was away on his errand so fast it made Lauren’s head spin.

  “Wow,” she whispered. “Maybe I have got something going for me, and I’ve been attracting the wrong boys.”

  Ten minutes later, Graham returned, out of breath, but carrying two bottles and two bars of chocolate. He was a nice-looking lad, but a lack of confidence meant he didn’t mix with the crowd at school. His best friend was Casey, another quiet boy who wasn’t on the day trip.

  Lauren accepted a bottle of coke and one of the chocolate bars. “Thank you, Graham. Now, you may sit beside me.” She put on a show as if she was royalty and patted the bench beside her.

  “Thank you,” Graham sat on the bench and like Lauren started feasting on the sweet snack and fizzy drink. After five minutes of silence, he got brave. “Would you mind if I sat on the grass there?”

  “I thought you wanted to sit beside me—don’t you want to be seen with me?”

  “It’s not that.” He looked away nervously before turning to her. “If I sit beside you … I … I—”

  “Come on, Graham, surely I’m not that scary?” She gave him the full effect of her smile.

  “If I sit beside you … I can’t … look at you.”

  “Aw, Graham, that is so sweet.” Lauren briefly placed a hand on his leg, not realising it would put the boy in danger of staining his underwear. “You have permission to sit on the grass, as long as you’re not doing it to look up my skirt.”

  Graham’s face beamed. “I wouldn’t—” Lauren’s laughter cut him short, and he laughed too.

  Graham sat on the grass, and when they weren’t making light conversation, he stared at her—without a doubt, one of the best looking girls in the school. He watched the breeze lift Lauren’s ash-blonde hair, and his eyes were drawn to the rise and fall of her chest, and those amazing legs, especially when the breeze lifted her skirt .…

  * * *

  Two weeks after the visit to the seaside, Lauren was cycling home when she turned at the sound of somebody panting. “Hi, Graham—what’s the hurry?”

  “Hi, Lauren.” He glanced over his shoulder as he went alongside, and slowed down his pedalling. “I was hoping … to catch up … with you.”

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “I wondered … if you’d like to go … cycling some weekend?”

  “You mean you and me?”

  “Yes, I know it’s not … like going to the pictures or anything—”

  “Would it still be a date, Graham?” Lauren smiled and glanced at him as he maintained pace alongside.

  “If that would be okay?”

  “When did you have in mind?”

  “During the holidays … Sunday … afternoon, about one o’clock … if you wanted to?”

  “Okay, but you must bring drinks and snacks, and we’ll make it like a picnic.”

  “You’ll go with me—really?”

  “If you promise to bring snacks and you behave like a gentleman.”

  “I promise.”

  “I’ll see you at the post box near your house at one.”

  The pair chatted for the fifteen minutes it took until they parted company, but both were home soon after.

  * * *

  .

  Sunday 2nd July, 1995

  When Lauren arrived at the agreed meeting place five minutes early, Graham was already there, and he said he’d been there for fifteen minutes. It was a good thing Lauren had opted for a tracksuit—it was what Graham was wearing, so they would at least look the part.

  They set off on a route that Graham had devised which took them into the countryside. As they cycled they chatted, and it was an hour later when they pulled over to sit on an embankment near a river. The setting was perfect because it was a bright day, and the light breeze faded before it reached them.

  For half an hour they chatted and enjoyed the sandwiches which Graham’s mum had prepared. The whole idea had been an eye-opener for Lauren because every boy she’d spent longer than five minutes with had been ready to pop her buttons. This boy chatted to her and ogled her, but never made a move to touch her.

  “Graham, how many girls have you taken out on a date?”

  “You mean like this kind of date, or—”

  “Any kind of date?”

  Graham looked down and played with a blade of grass. “I’ve never been … anywhere with a girl.”

  “Have you ever kissed a girl, Graham?”

  “You mean—”

  Lauren reached out and used a fingertip under his chin to turn his head. “Ever?”

  “No.” Graham blinked, and his face turned bright red. He swallowed.

  “Would you like to kiss me?”

/>   “Really?”

  “No—pretend … of course, really.”

  “I don’t—”

  Lauren slipped her hand behind his neck and pulled him forward before softly pressing her lips on his. She sucked gently on his lips and then probed with her tongue, and the gasp made the move worthwhile. Lauren let him go.

  Graham swallowed hard. “Lauren—”

  Lauren lay back on the grass. “Now, it’s your turn.” She didn’t have to ask twice.

  * * *

  .

  Sunday, 16th July, 1995

  It was two weeks and four dates later during the holidays that Lauren took things one step further. While lying on a grassy hillside in the sunshine, Lauren guided a trembling, inquisitive hand from her thigh to venture under her skirt. She then had to instruct her nerve-wracked young boyfriend to slow down and not to insert his entire hand inside her.

  “A girl only needs one or two fingers to touch her gently, Graham … nice and slow … just there … that’s it … yes, there.” Lauren was experiencing her first pleasure at the hands of a boy, albeit under her instruction. When their passionate kiss ended, and she felt satisfied and relaxed, Lauren smiled at him, knowing they’d both enjoy the next part. She merely wanted to see the effect it would have on Graham.

  “Did I … do okay, Lauren?”

  “You did very well, Graham, and now if you like, I’ll show you how to be gentle.” She pushed him onto his back and leant forward to kiss him, moving to his neck, and then his ears, so she could whisper her intentions. As she kissed Graham, Lauren slid a hand down his front and rested it on the bulge in his trousers. She moved her hand up and started to slip it inside his waistband.

  Graham squirmed and at one point moved a hand down to stop what Lauren was doing. “Please .. don’t … I might—”

  “You might what … shoot … your load?” Lauren looked down. “Push them down … for me … Graham.” She smiled at him and pecked his lips. “Unless you want to … stain your underwear.”

  Graham reached down and pushed his trousers and underwear down quickly and resumed kissing the teen goddess who had absolute power over him.

  Lauren continued the kiss but eased the trousers and underwear down further before caressing the throbbing, dripping, and quite thin dick. She felt her boyfriend panting within their kiss as she experimented, gently stroking him and cupping his balls.

  “Lauren … I’m—”

  “You’re going to come … and I want to watch.” She turned and used a firmer grip as she pumped Graham’s hard-on, slowing, and then speeding up. Lauren thrilled at her power.

  Graham got up on his elbows to watch and his panting breaths increased. “Lauren—”

  Lauren paused briefly to glance at him. “Come … Graham … come for me.” She worked her hand faster, and when the boy’s hips jerked, Lauren aimed the small cock away, and they both watched the short spurts of cum shoot out.

  Graham was in love before his juice landed in the grass.

  From start to finish after Lauren took hold of the uncovered cock, it was under a minute.

  * * *

  During the final school term of the year, Lauren continued to see Graham. He was quiet and didn’t run around with the crowd, but he was also a good-looking lad, and totally under Lauren’s spell.

  Lauren employed those final months at school wisely. She used her eager and obedient young man to learn about her own sexuality and to see what it took to push a boy over the edge. The days of fumbling inside clothing had gone, and Graham learned if he did as he was told, he would be rewarded.

  Although Lauren was keen to save her virginity for the future, while she had such an eager and clean boy at her beck and call she wanted to experience oral sex, and she insisted, of course, that she was pleasured first. Graham performed under tuition as always, and Lauren found a pleasure that she knew she would always enjoy.

  It was a mark of her skill that she kissed Graham so well that when she eventually went down on him, he shot his load within two minutes, gasping and thrusting his hips long after his meagre load had been swallowed by the beautiful girl kneeling in front of him.

  And so, 1996 ended as Lauren had wanted it to and her self-confidence had grown.

  Troubled Times

  Friday 7th February, 1997

  “What’s wrong, mum?” Lauren had arrived home from college in the afternoon to find her mother at home with a young man in his mid-twenties.

  “Your dad has had a heart attack while driving. He was in a collision and went down an embankment. The rescue services couldn’t get to him for a long time, but they said there was nothing that could have been done.”

  For the previous four years, Lauren had nothing much to do with her father because he worked on the North Sea oil rigs—away and back for weeks at a time, and his family wasn’t his biggest concern.

  Lauren didn’t feel grief for the man who had rarely shown her affection. She wondered sometimes if her father was her natural father. In place of grief, there was a numbness, as if she’d lost a favourite possession. At the same time, the teenager wasn’t comfortable with the handsome, but lecherous twenty-something who was sitting having coffee.

  “Who is this?” Lauren asked, nodding towards the man, but with no hint of manners.

  “This is Anthony, one of my colleagues. He was kind enough to drive me home after I got the news about your dad.”

  “Well, Anthony can go now—I’m home with you.”

  “Lauren, that’s no way to talk about somebody who has gone out of his way to comfort me and make sure I got home okay.”

  “Thank you, Anthony,” Lauren said, formally. “You can go now, back to your wife, or family.” Lauren could see from Anthony’s smirk that ‘comfort’ was high on his list of intentions, and it might not be an arm around a shoulder. The grieving woman might have reddened eyes from crying recently, but she was attractive, and until earlier had a husband away from home regularly.

  “I’ll go, Marie, but if you need anything ….” Anthony stared at Lauren. “Even if it’s just somebody to talk to—give me a call.” Anthony gave Lauren a sideways glance as he got up and left.

  “That wasn’t very nice, Lauren,” Marie Ashton said. “He’s a good friend at work, and he didn’t hesitate when I needed somebody.”

  “Right.” Lauren nodded, but in her head, she was thinking, I’ll bet he didn’t hesitate.

  Within a few days, Lauren’s dad was buried, and after the funeral, it struck her just how little she had ever got to know the man. She was more concerned with her own lack of grief than anything. At least until she realised how quickly her mother got over the loss.

  One month after her husband was buried, Marie Ashton invited Anthony, her colleague around for Sunday dinner. It was a surprise to Lauren, or she would have opted to be somewhere else. As it was, she spent as little time as possible in the company of her ‘grieving’ mother and her new best friend.

  The weeks passed, and Lauren enjoyed her place on an Art Foundation course at the local sixth-form college.

  * * *

  .

  Monday 7th April, 1997

  Lauren was happy to be a loner, absorbed in her studies, in a subject she loved. She had achieved good grades in the general subjects at school, but she’d worked especially hard with her art—her reason for living. Graham was no longer a part of her life. Alison, and Becky, two good friends had left the area to study in London. Lauren was content that her friends had moved on too.

  It was during a sketching lesson on human anatomy and posture that another creative girl became friendly.

  “I wish I could draw human figures as good as yours.” The curvy auburn-haired girl stood shaking her head slowly. “Mine looks like sacks of potatoes.”

  “Don’t knock yourself, Zoe.” Lauren leant over. “You’ve got the idea there—yours looks good, and we’ll get plenty of practice.”

  “Yes, but even with the folds and creases of the fabrics the sha
pe of your model is just so … right. The woman looks amazing, and she’s dressed.”

  “What are you trying to say, Zoe?” Lauren raised an eyebrow. She whispered, “I make a quick sketch of the model naked, and then I add the clothes.”

  Both girls laughed, and Zoe went back to work on her effort.

  The pair had known each other as classmates at school but had never been on more than nodding terms. When they realised they were both enrolled on the foundation course, they’d chatted more regularly. At the college, there were opportunities to take part in badminton, squash, or exercise classes. Several of the aerobic and similar classes were at different times to the art lessons, and the two girls had seen each other often.

  “Lauren, are you doing anything special over the Easter break?”

  “No, apart from staying away from the house as much as possible. I don’t like the guy who is regularly visiting my mother.”

  “Is she still seeing that younger man you told me about?”

  “Yes, but he gives me the creeps.”

  “If you wanted you could come to my place for a sleepover on the Easter weekend.”

  “That’s a nice idea, but I thought you said you were practising your artistic skills in your spare time?”

  Zoe laughed. “Okay, I’ll be honest. I thought maybe if you brought over some art materials you could help me on the stuff that you’re so good at.” She paused. “We could still get out to see a movie or go shopping.”

  “Right, book me in for your spare room. I’ll bring my leotard so we can do some aerobics too.”

  “Okay, and I’m not taking no for an answer now.” Zoe laughed.

  “I’ll tell my mum that you’re on your own and your parents would like you to have company.”