Edith

'Lift your bum,' she said, masterfully.

Edith obeyed and had her denims tugged most way off her in an instant. Sliding off the settee, onto her knees, Heather quickly unfastened Ede's trainers and tossed them aside. Two seconds later the jeans were gone altogether, taking short white ankle socks with them. Ede was now naked apart from surprisingly sexy panties.

Heather grinned inwardly. Edith's bra had been, to say the least, unflattering. Those panties were, in contrast, frilly, pretty and pink. The reinforced part at the front was noticeably damp, too. To her mind that only made them sexier.

The temptation to give Edith what she so obviously wanted was immense. Overcoming it, Heather set to work on her legs instead: thighs first, kissing and licking fronts, backs, insides and outs. She kissed Ede's kneecaps too (for no reason other than they were there) before starting on her calves.

Edith's legs were, she noted, hair-free. She must have recently shaved (or, more probably, waxed) to get them so smooth. And she had good, clear skin. All right, so it was creamy-pale, but it wouldn't see a lot of sun in the lab, would it?

Deciding that she liked the look of pale skin against her own deep tan she glanced up Edith's body. Ede looked blissful; there was no other word to describe her expression. All the worry lines had gone out of her face. She had plainly succeeded in subduing her emotions!

Heather kissed her ankles. Then she took Edith's right foot in her hand and smothered it with kisses. Starting on top, she worked her way to the instep. Edith gasped and said something about her being ticklish. Ignoring whatever she said, Heather ran her tongue up and down her sole, going all the way from her heel to the tips of her toes and back, again and again.

Edith groaned and almost certainly came.

Switching feet, Heather concentrated on Edith's toes. Her nails were predictably varnish-free but well-clipped. Licking and sucking her digits one by one was not an unpleasant task.

Neither was sucking them three at a time.

The best was yet to come, though. Still kneeling, Heather pulled off the frilly pink knickers, exposing a not-so-recently shaved pussy. Not that that was any deterrent. Heather liked pussies in all their many forms. She really didn't care if they were hairless, styled in fancy strips and triangles or covered in an untamed bush. Being there and being available were the only criteria that mattered to her.

And Ede's was definitely there! It was easy to picture purple blood pounding into it, causing it to swell and darken.

'Beautiful,' Heather said sincerely.

'Please,' Edith sighed. 'Please Hev . . .'

Heather didn't need asking twice. 'Open your legs for me,' she commanded.

Edith immediately threw her legs apart, putting herself into the most whore-like position Heather could imagine (and that was an achievement in itself!).

'Really Ede,' she laughed, 'I'm supposed to be teaching you, not the other way around.'

'Please,' Edith replied. 'Please, Hev . . .'

After paying a limited amount of attention to the researcher's labia, Heather switched focus to her clit. Or rather, aware that some women were super-sensitive there, she focused extensively on her hood. Edith had been alternating between moans and groans for a while by then. Sweet-smelling juice was leaking out of her vagina. Again resisting temptation, not the girl to leave a job half-done, Heather did not stray.

Well, not much.

Concentrating mostly on her inner lips, Heather let her tongue follow Edith's folds, occasionally letting it brush her actual clitoris, gradually assessing its hardiness. Ede's was, she concluded, quite tough. She could probably have gone for it straightaway. But it was better safe than sorry, wasn't it? And her being considerate hadn't hurt, had it? It had just made a ten minute task last half an hour, but nobody was complaining.

Well I'm certainly not,' she thought gleefully. I'm not complaining at all.

Edith's next orgasm was simply awesome. Inspired by everything about it . . . the taste, touch, sound, smell and sight . . . Heather kept on going. By now she was more direct; now one hundred per cent of her efforts were aimed at that magic button. And now she felt it appropriate to use a couple of fingers too.

Good grief wasn't Edith's vagina tight! Not to mention hot and very, very wet. Her reactions were more than slightly pleasant too. The odd "yes" and "nice" punctuated her many renewed moans and groans. Her luscious chest was heaving in an appreciative sort of a way. By far best of all, her lower body was moving with a graceful, musical rhythm.

Normally Heather imposed her own rhythm at moments like that. There were several golden oldies on her regular play list. Tonight she didn't even try; instead she simply fell in with Edith's beat.

And it was definitely working. A splash of warmth on her boobs confirmed that. So too did the rapidly rising volume of Edith's verbal soundtrack.

'Oh my God,' she cried, 'oh my God I'm going to . . . to . . .'

A much larger splash of warmth confirmed that Heather's job was done.

Well, for a minute or two, anyway.

She climbed to her feet, stooped to kiss Edith's nose again then straightened to unfasten her jeans.

'I feel overdressed,' she said as she kicked her legs free.

'I feel . . . amazing.' Edith laughed. 'Is sex always as good as that?'

'That was just foreplay.' Heather grinned. 'We need to go to bed to have sex.'

Edith shook her head and laughed some more.

'No, really,' Heather went on. ''It's your turn next and we haven't really even started yet. Unless you're in need of vino we ought to be climbing those stairs.'

Edith just gazed at her.

'It's your choice,' Heather continued. 'What's it to be: one more glass of wine; oblivion in the bottom of the whole box . . . or a more intimate cuddle on my bed?'

'Bed,' said Edith. 'Bed first and foremost.'

Heather's witchy cackle would have done Mary Rose proud. 'I rather hoped you might say that,' she said, grabbing Ede's hand and pulling her shakily upright.

'Bed, then?'

'Oh yes! Yes please.'

*****

Later, snuggled together beneath the duvet, Heather told Edith that she was fantastic, that she was mega. That she had come in at eleven out of ten. And that if she'd been a virgin then she, Heather, was going to go buy a new hat and eat it.

'I'll get you a knife and fork then; this really is my first.' Edith's laugh was a bit wobbly. 'And thank you. I never expected I'd turn into a lesbian, but it was really good.'

Heather rolled her eyes at that.

'Just slow down on the lesbian track,' she said. 'One bout of sex isn't going to "turn you" into anything. Not even if you did get the hang of it superbly.'

'Hev . . . please, you're embarrassing me.'

'Good. And stop thanking me. I probably got more out of tonight than you did.'

'I doubt that. I really do.'

'Well you shouldn't, Ede. You really shouldn't.'

'What now?' Edith wondered after a comfy silence. 'What do I do? Get up and go home?'

'No way; you're staying until you're happy, remember?'

'I remember you saying something about wine and hugs, although I only recall getting a drop of the former and none of the latter.'

'You did too get a hug! It just developed. As they . . .'

Heather broke off, pleasantly shocked when Edith's hand made intimate contact under the covers, and boldly too.

'That's nice. Are you sure you used to be a virgin?'

Edith laughed yet again. Perhaps the extent of her "loss" had just sunk in. If it had then she'd clearly analysed her new status and come to terms with it. 'Yes,' she said, 'but I'm a quick learner.'

'I know that. It's just . . .' Heather broke off and chuckled. 'Well, you didn't seem like a virgin. And you certainly didn't behave like one.'

It was dark so Edith's blush was felt rather than seen. And yes, it really was felt; lying next to her was like lying next to a radiator.

'I've used things for years,' she said. 'Nobody wanted to sleep with me, so . . . so there! I'm not intact because I use dildos on myself.'

'Dildos are okay,' Heather said. 'They're sold in their millions. Every bachelor girl should have at least two. I've got half a dozen. Or is it eight? Whatever; you've nothing to be ashamed of.'

'I know that. It's just so humiliating admitting how messed up my life is. I wish I could be as grown up about everything as you are.'

'I take it you mean sex? Seeing as you've got everything else nailed?'

'No . . . well, yes . . . I mean . . .'

Heather stroked her friend's arm. 'Think about it, Ede. You're already brilliant. The rest of your life can't fail to be successful. "Messed up" can't possibly come into it. So you waited until now before you decided to have sex . . . so what? Sex isn't compulsory, you know.'

'It hasn't even been optional for me. That's the root of it all.'

'Ede, Do me a favour. Use that rational brain of yours. Analyse how hard you've actually tried to have relationships. Compared to randy witches like me; the sort who do their best to have at least one new partner a week.'

That only took a moment.

'I never have tried.' Edith laughed shortly. 'There was one particular boy at school, but we never quite happened. Since then I suppose I've let myself go.'

'Good. Now analyse where you've got to and where you want to be. Sexually, I mean.'

Ede took another brief pause for thought.

'I'm still not trying. I haven't done anything with my appearance for years. And I never give anyone the slightest encouragement. I need to change that.'

'Excellent . . . that's right to the point . . . and easy to change, to boot. Now how about the actual sex? Where exactly are you with that?'

'I told you already.' Edith's body-radiator had stoked up again. 'Before tonight I'd only ever done it on my own.'

'But where do you want to go from here?'

'I really enjoyed tonight.' Edith's hand was still in intimate contact. She moved it a second to give the inside of Heather's thigh a friendly pinch. 'But I want to do it with a bloke too. It can't possibly be any better, but I have to find out.'

'Sex is different with different people,' Heather agreed. 'Blokes are different to girls, but I wouldn't say that they're necessarily better or worse. To me, the key is for both partners to care about each other's orgasm. There doesn't have to be love involved, or even too much friendship, just that common intent . . . for the duration, so to speak.'

'It's okay,' said Edith. 'I understand. I won't mistake your kindness for something else. I want us to have a mature, adult friendship.'

'We already do have a mature, adult friendship,' Heather relied patiently. 'Getting you to have other mature, adult friendships is the issue.'

'I know. And in answer to your earlier question: I want to get on with the learning curve as soon as possible.'

'Do you mean with blokes?'

'Yes, I do, and with one bloke in particular.'

'So you haven't got over Doug?'

'I love him, Hev. I don't know why . . . it isn't logical . . . but I can't stop myself.'

'And you still feel that way, even after seeing his email?'

'Of course I do; that was just him being one of the lads, exactly as you said it was.'

'You're determined about this, aren't you?'

'I can't stop thinking about him.' Edith sighed forlornly. 'I know it's useless, but I'm stuck with it.'

'So you're definitely not a lesbian then?'

'I'm probably not, even though I'll definitely keep trying it out . . . if you want to, that is.'

'I want to, just as long as we stay friends above everything.'

'Hev, I'll always be your friend, especially after tonight. I'll never . . .'

'Enough! Consider it sorted. Just do something about Doug for goodness' sake.'

'I don't think I dare. You keep telling me I'm terminally shy with blokes; I'm afraid you might be right.'

'Yeah, and I'm starting to think Doug's even worse.'

'He probably is. The situation's hopeless.'

'Don't ever say that. It's a sex situation. Sex always finds a way.'

This time Edith's sigh was even more heartfelt. 'Shouldn't that be "love" always finds a way?'

'In this instance there's not a lot of difference.'

'Yes there is. I think about him all the time. It's beginning to affect my work. In fact it's going to drive me mad. I know it is.'

'Good grief,' said Heather. 'If it's as bad as that, it calls for desperate measures.'

'What do you have in mind?'

'

I'm not sure, but something extreme . . . kill or cure . . . something to get you together or else get him out of your system, once and for all.'

'What though? I can't just throw myself at him. He might push me away.'

'Don't worry about that. I have a plan.' It was Heather's turn to laugh as inspiration struck her. 'It's the most cunning of all cunning plans. As Blackadder would say, you could easily pin a tail on and call it a weasel.'

Edith didn't speak for a while. 'What?' she said, eventually.

Heather laughed again. 'You are going to become the darling of scientific research. By the time I've finished, Doug will be crawling to you on his knees.'

*****

Part two of Heather's plan was to completely change Edith's image without materially changing the girl herself. In other words, it involved a blend of cosmetics and bolstered confidence . . . meaning the more bolstered the better. Part one involved winding up Doug tighter than a coiled spring. That bit was carried out personally by Heather, whose psyche never had needed much assistance.

She found him in the refectory, sitting alone with his dinner and a weighty scientific tome that made Econometrics seem quite interesting. He looked guilty from the word go.

'That email,' he said immediately. 'I'm terribly sorry. We've all made our views plain to Warren. He's doing the rounds apologizing. Hasn't he got to you yet?'

'Never mind me.' Heather stayed on her feet, overshadowing him. 'What about Edith?'

'I'm plucking up courage,' he said limply.

'Well you're too late.' She leant forward, hands on the table, giving him the choice of looking up at her face or down her very visible cleavage. Being a gentleman (or being a cowardly rat, already deep into the black stuff) he chose to look at her face.

'What did Warren say about me? That I'm "the best a man can get"? Well take it from me, Edith's the best a girl can get.'

Doug's jaw dropped. 'What . . . what are you saying?'

'I'm saying she slept with me last night.' Heather's grin was in danger of splitting off the top half of her head. She'd rehearsed her words beforehand, but even so this felt spontaneous and good. 'You have blown it, Doug. I got inside her baggy sweatshirt first, luckily for me.'

'But . . .'

'Don't but me, Doug. Listen to me instead. She was saving herself for you. Until that email landed and changed her mind. Last night she asked me to be her first. And it was great.'

She deliberately leant even closer. Doug's face was a picture now. He really didn't seem to notice her boobs as conflicting and very visible emotions raced through him: surprise, dismay, envy . . .

Yes, he was showing lots and lots of envy.

'You'll be on your own in the lab on Saturday,' Heather continued mercilessly. 'Edith's coming away to the Lake District with me. I'm going to fill the fridge with snacks and we're going to lock the world out, so we can fuck each other all weekend long.'

Doug flinched at the F word, making Heather bite back a laugh. She'd spent years and years at The Manor trying to stop Mary Rose swearing so much. Mary Rose always argued the word had its uses. She would have pounced on Doug as proof she'd been right.

'You can think about us every time you look at her empty work station,' Heather added, viciously.

'But . . .'

'But nothing, Doug, you've blown it. She won't be there Saturday or Sunday. She'll be wrapping that lovely body of hers around lucky old me instead.'

At that Heather laughed out loud. The weekend away really was going to happen and she could not wait. Last night was for Edith as a friend in need. Saturday night, Sunday morning was going to be for both of them.

'Lucky, lucky old me,' she added, twisting the knife.

Doug clearly couldn't take much more. For a split second his eyes dropped down to Heather's chest and then hastily bounced back up to her face.

'But . . .' he said for about the hundredth time.

'I've got a special gadget that will let me be a man for her,' she said softly, almost whispering. 'When I say I'm going to fuck her, I really mean it. While you are playing silly games with your fancy chemistry set, she'll be locking her ankles behind my back and hoping I never stop.'

'But . . .'

'She's a very loving woman, Edith. And she cums better than a wet dream. I can't wait to find out what she's like when she's actually got something buried deep inside her, or when I teach her one or two of the more adventurous positions.'

'But . . .'

It was tempting to ask if Doug was now the university's last virgin, but Heather couldn't be so cruel (not quite). Instead she smiled sweetly and said: 'Goodness only knows why, but she still likes you. You still have a chance of being her first bloke.'

'Right,' Doug blabbered. He had been blushing furiously for most of the conversation, various shades of red steadily deepening. Now he was on the verge of self-combustion.

'What . . . what do you suggest I do?'

'What do I suggest?' Heather laughed some more and went into Mary Rose Overdrive mode. 'Don't ask me. I'm your rival, Doug. I'm going to keep fucking her until you think of a way to make her fuck you instead. Hopefully it'll take forever.'

Doug's response was to bring flowers into the lab. Acting on Heather's instructions, Edith accepted them but declined a conciliatory drink. Also acting on Heather's instructions (and constantly carping about it "off-stage") Edith began playing hard to get, avoiding the refectory altogether and resigning from the chess club. And the harder she played, the harder Doug tried. Being seen to be her so-very-ardent admirer no longer seemed to be a problem. In fact having a rival seemed to have galvanized him.

It was fair to say he'd been sussed.

Over the next couple of months Heather spent a lot of extra time with Edith, regularly marvelling at the transformation in her. It would have been nice to take all the credit, but much was of the researcher's own doing, thanks to her intelligence and that amazing learning ability. In bed she went from being an eager virgin to porn-star-class in about a week. Out of bed she changed almost immediately, as self-confidence started to bloom and grow.

And why shouldn't she be confident? She'd discovered the use of a limited amount of make-up . . . of hot sex whenever she fancied it . . . and best of all, of having Doug running in circles with his tongue hanging out.

Bring it all on!

The old Edith was tallish but slouched, with long, almost straggly hair and clouded eyes. Infused with self-belief, she stood upright, threw back her shoulders and was suddenly flaunting an intriguing pair of bazoomas. Her carriage changed too; while she didn't exactly strut about like Naomi on a catwalk, her body language suddenly started shouting "Wow!"

Unilaterally abandoning her previous baggy, shapeless jeans and even worse shapeless sweatshirts, she switched to tight Levi's and skimpy T-shirts. Heads turned when she came into any room. Doug must have noticed his list of rivals growing daily.

Heather did her best to further bolster Edith's self-assurance before tackling her skin and hair. Finally satisfied that her eyes had become cloudless, she introduced her to the sunbed at a local gym. Then, when she could see a decent tan setting in, she dragged her into the nearest Toni & Guy for a severe trim and dye. That worked! Overnight Edith became "The Tall Ash-blonde With the Chest". She spent the next fortnight fighting off even more new admirers then went back on her own. This time she came out with a white urchin cut that completely altered her forever and ever. Amen.