Brief Encounter

I'm in, she'd thought. All I need from here is to not scare her off . . .

Yes, she'd rashly assumed that, as a sporty femme, Heather would be only too happy to come across for a girl of her shape and appearance.

How wrong had she been!

Now, adjusting her harness, she had to accept that Heather's bedroom behaviour had taken her aback. The girl was an aggressive sex machine, and a mighty fine one at that. Her opening assault had been awesome, impossible to resist and even harder to match. Although (when she finally got opportunity!) she'd done her utmost to mirror all the wonderful things she'd had done to her, she felt to be lacking.

Heather was so, so good. And she, by comparison, seemed clumsy and gauche. However she looked at it, she really was still indebted.

There was one easy way to square up, though, wasn't there? A way they would both enjoy.

*****

Squaring up was no hardship. In doing so Angie got to fuck Heather for simply ages and ages. Using her favourite "textured sensual glass" dildo she contrived to be powerful, energetic and tender, all at the same time. And, judging by the racket she made, Heather certainly appreciated her efforts.

The things she said! Never once swearing, she encouraged her new lover with an endless and always explicit running commentary.

'Yes, yes, yes, that feels good. Good grief, that feels even better. Just how long is that toy of yours? If it goes in any deeper you'll split me in two. Not that I'd complain. Go on girl, go for it.'

Eventually, around silly o'clock in the morning, enough was evidently enough. Not that Heather called for an end or even a timeout. No, she merely decided she wanted a go and that accounted for most of the rest of the night. And she was predictably good at it. The racket Angie made was at least twice as extreme as her guest's.

Amazingly, they really did get to daybreak without sleeping. By then they'd ditched the dildo and were experimenting, trying to find sixty-nine different positions in which to . . . well, sixty-nine. That was lots of fun and showering together was nearly as enjoyable. Angie's bathroom was really an en-suite, and a small one at that. Her shower tray was only about two feet square and intimate contact in there was unavoidable.

There again, intimate contact would have been unavoidable if the tray had been half a mile across.

Satisfied they'd scrubbed each other clean as new pins, they dried and dressed themselves and went into the kitchen, where the cupboards turned out to be practically bare.

Old Mother Hubbard obviously knew the way to market better than Angie did, didn't she!

'I can do toast and marmalade with coffee or tea,' she said, a little shamefacedly. 'Or we could always go and see Joanie.'

'Who's Joanie?'

'She runs the coffee shop on campus. Haven't you tried it?'

'I can't say I have.'

'She makes all sorts of sandwiches as well as coffee. She can do everything from bacon butties to a full English breakfast in a barm cake.'

'No disrespect to your toast,' said Heather, 'but let's go see Joanie.'

*****

Walking along Angie's usual route into uni they linked arms and exchanged smiles.

'I didn't know what to expect,' Heather confided. 'When you approached me in the bar you looked like a woman on a mission.'

'Like a sex-mad bull dyke, you mean.'

Heather laughed. 'I did wonder what you wanted to do to me. I can't tell you how glad I am I got to find out.'

Angie laughed in her turn. 'If you cast your mind back, I think you'll find it was you who did most of the doing, not me.'

'I think we shared right down the middle,' Heather countered, 'and it was brilliant. We have to do it all again sometime.' After a pause she added: 'Not that I do relationships.'

That wasn't a surprise. Angie kept her expression neutral. 'I don't do relationships either.'

Maybe something in her tone got to Heather because she unlinked her arm and took hold of Angie's hand instead. 'I put that very badly,' she said. 'I do sometimes do relationships; it's commitments that I avoid.'

Thoughts of Ruby and countless others flitted through Angie's head. 'I have a few girlfriends,' she said carefully, 'but I'm not committed to any of them. That's how I intend to be until I graduate.'

'LUG, eh?' said Heather, chuckling.

'No, I'm lesbian for life, not until graduation. I might try a committed relationship when I leave, but not before.'

'It sounds like we're a good match then. Are you up for another night of sin?'

'Yeah, I'll gladly do it again sometime.'

'Knickers to "sometime".' Heather chuckled again. 'I was thinking more like tonight. We can date first, if you like.'

An elevator dropped in Angie's stomach then bounced back up. She'd seriously thought that one night would have been enough for Heather; that she'd be politely thanked and brushed off. But it seemed Heather really had enjoyed herself as much as she had.

How about that for a result!

There was a downside, naturally. Back in the deeper recesses of her mind she'd planned to have an early night, to catch up on her missed and much-needed beauty sleep. But bugger that. No way was she going to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially not this scrumptious, black-maned one. There was a gap in her timetable today: eleven 'til one. She could find somewhere quiet and powernap. And she could powernap again later, before she went out.

'Okay,' she said casually, trying to sound as if beautiful women asked her out all the time, 'it's a date. When and where?'

'What time to you finish?'

'It's four o'clock on a Thursday.'

'That's the same as me. See you in the Union at five past?'

There went Angie's second powernap!!

'Isn't that a bit early?'

'I was thinking of a few beers, a curry then bed. The nearest curry house opens at six. That makes the timing excellent, if you ask me.'

Laughing, Angie enquired whose bed she had in mind.

'Yours,' Heather replied. 'You don't half yell when you cum. If you did that in halls you'd get us thrown out in ten seconds flat.'

'I'll have you know I did a year in halls without getting thrown out.'

'You must have been very lucky, then. That or else bribed someone.'

They were about halfway to uni and Angie had noticed something odd. Normally by now, eight in the morning, this part of town was bustling. Today it was almost deserted. Okay, there were pedestrians on the opposite side of the street, but not many. And the pavement ahead of them had a few groups of loiterers but no other pedestrians at all.

Chapter Eight

'Friends and lovers call me "Hev",' Heather was saying. 'You obviously fit in both categories, so feel free to do likewise.' Then, after uncharacteristically hesitating: 'Is it usually this quiet round here?'

'No. Usually it's very busy.'

'Where are we, exactly?'

'This is Black Hill.'

'You mean the area where Amy was set upon?'

'Yes, although she wasn't set upon, was she.'

As she spoke Angie was assessing the landscape ahead. Those groups were all males in twos and threes, loitering at intervals of about thirty yards.

'They look like vigilantes,' she said. 'Perhaps the publicity yesterday has brought them out.'

'They look more like sexist so-and-sos to me,' said Heather. 'And where are the police? Bobbies on the beat; that's what Tony Blair keeps promising us, isn't it?'

'They must all be patrolling Downing Street,' said Angie. 'Listen, I walk through here every day and I have never had a problem. Let's just get it over with.'

Still holding hands, they passed the first group of three lads. Acne-faced teenagers, they said nothing but undressed the two girls with their eyes as they went by. The next group consisted of slightly older lads, two black and one white.

'Oh my,' one of the black guys said, theatrically looking at the "cigarette" in his hand, as if it didn't just contain tobacco, 'I'm seeing a vision.'

'I don't fancy yours,' the white guy said, leering at Heather.

So far unscathed, they made it to two more white lads, one very fat and the other thin. The thin one had some resemblance to an old actor, so Angie immediately christened them "Stan" and "Ollie".

'Fuckin' arse on that,' Stan said as they passed.

'That's exactly what I thought,' Heather murmured as they went. 'When I first saw your ass, I mean.'

Angie did her best to sound cheerful. 'I think he was referring to you.'

'Don't keep putting yourself down, sweetheart. There really is no need, especially when it comes to your ass.'

'Oho,' said Angie as three more lads came into view. Rather than leaning on red-brick walls this latest trio had spread out across the pavement, blocking it. Keeping up the slapstick film theme, she named them "Curly", "Larry" and "Moe".

Seeing little option, the girls stopped two or three yards short of the picket line.

'Hello, hello,' said Larry, 'what are you doing walking down this side of my street?'

'I walk down here every day,' Angie replied, doing her best to contain her temper. 'Are you saying I'm not allowed anymore?'

Larry pulled a face of comical, pop-eyed surprise. Leastways it might have been comical if he hadn't been such a nasty piece of work. Only in his early twenties, his face had been ravaged by every vice known to mankind.

'I wasn't talking to you, was, I?' he said. 'I was talking to the Paki bitch, not the lezzie cunt.'

Heather looked at Angie and mouthed "Does he mean me?"

Secretly, Angie had been wondering about Hev's ancestry. She knew she was seventh generation of a Yorkshire farming family, but her colouring was decidedly dark. Amazonian body aside, something about her was distinctly exotic. It would be easy to believe there was a dash of overseas blood in her, maybe Caribbean or South American.

Or maybe a touch of something from one of those South Seas islands, where everything was always sunshine and light. One where ugly confrontations never happened.

'You're sadly mistaken,' Heather said to Larry, 'but I'm not going to argue about race with you. Please just step aside and we'll get out of your hair.'

'You're on my side of the street,' he reiterated. 'That means you owe me a tithe.'

'Don't you mean a toll?' she said in response.

'She's right,' said Curly. 'It's a toll, not a tithe.'

'Shut the fuck up,' Larry snapped back at him. 'And get the lezzie cunt the hell out of here. We don't want witnesses, do we?'

Curly shut up and took a step forward.

Angie's guts clenched. This was getting worse and worse.

Unbelievably, Heather seemed completely unconcerned. She even fluttered her lashes. 'I hope that you aren't thinking naughty thoughts,' she said in the voice of a bubble-headed blonde.

Conscious of footsteps behind them, Angie glanced round and groaned. Most of the other groups had stayed in situ but Stan and Ollie had closed in. Now they were outnumbered five to two.

'Hev,' she hissed.

'You run along while you can,' said Heather. 'And don't worry about me. I'll pay my dues and follow on in a bit.'

Letting go of Angie's hand she took a step towards Larry . . .

And suddenly she exploded into action. Larry never saw her knee but he certainly felt it smash into his groin and by then it was too late. Instinctively doubling up didn't help; doubling up only brought his jaw into contact with Heather's powerful uppercut. His teeth cracked together louder than the loudest pool break and that was that. It was "game over player one" as far as he was concerned.

Not that Heather was done. Continuing the same movement she raised her right elbow on a level with her face and swung, twisting her upper body to add momentum, crunching hard into Moe's neck. Moe went down as if he'd been poleaxed.

While Angie gasped at the pace of events Heather moved again. This time she twisted in the opposite direction, spinning on her left leg like a ballerina, lowering her torso as she went, lifting her right leg up high.

Ollie was lucky in that Hev was aiming blind. But he was not very, very lucky. No, he didn't get his fat head kicked off but her Nike trainer still impacted hard enough to break his nose and split his lips in a spectacular fashion. Totally stunned, he didn't so much fall as concertina to the pavement, ending up in a clumsy sort of a lotus position, using both hands to try to stem the flow of blood.

By now Curly was reaching inside his jacket. Only too aware of the level of knife crime in those parts, Angie gripped his arm and waved a clenched fist in his face.

'Don't even dream about it,' she snarled.

She was bigger than him and, at that moment in time, infinitely braver. He shrugged and raised his palms in a cross between surrender and warding off.

Coward that he was!

Meanwhile Stan had made a bolt for it. Arms and legs flailing in all directions, he might have looked less graceful than Carl Lewis but was probably moving faster than the Olympic champion ever had.

'I told you not to worry,' Heather said, grinning at Angie and pointing at Curly. 'What shall we do with him?'

Angie took in the scene of devastation around them. Ollie was still sitting like Buddha gone wrong, his shirt drenched in crimson gore. Larry was groaning on the pavement, counting his teeth and showing no sign of renewed aggression. Moe was beside him, teeth intact but senses clearly reeling.

'You've done enough damage already,' she said, 'you and your kung fu. Let's let him go and beat an orderly retreat.'

Hev nodded and Curly took to his heels as soon as Angie loosened her grip.

'Come on,' she said, aware hundreds of eyes were on them without anyone attempting to come near. 'I'm ready for my bacon butty.'

Hev nodded again. 'Mine's going to be a full English in a barm cake,' she said, 'yum, yum.'