Heather's Hectic Weekend Pt. 01

Then, when she'd climbed down off the ceiling, he did it again.

Next morning Naz had felt strangely ungrateful. Maybe she hadn't been convinced about the Grace and Scary story (even though it subsequently proved to be true). Or maybe it was something else. Whatever, after another, matey-matey mid-morning jump she'd bared her heart.

'I don't want a regular boyfriend,' she'd told him. 'But I do want an occasional lover. If you want to be occasional, then great, you're "it".'

'You don't want steady?'

'No, like I said, I want occasional. Oh, and it has to be jealousy-free in both directions.'

She'd seen the flicker of disbelief in John's eyes. Then he'd laughed. 'Okay. That sounds grown-up and civilized. When's my next date?'

Naz had settled on once a fortnight and the arrangement was still ongoing. Not that his access had been exclusive. She hadn't said "jealousy-free" for nothing. Lack of commitment had been part of their "grown-up and civilized" agreement. Once every week or so had become the norm. Well, once every week or so with John had become the norm.

Nowadays, twenty-nine months since she'd broken her duck, Naz had a different view on sex. Instead of sex being an imaginary concept it was a very real, practical probability. John might still be a regular but she'd had lots and lots of lovers; maybe as many as twenty. Okay, so ten of them had been one-off, one-night stands, but the others . . .

Still stroking Alex's broad back, she chuckled. Right now, including John, she had as many as four "occasional" lovers. It was a bit of a juggling act to keep them unaware of each other but (so far) she was coping. And four was a number that suited her. Kept well-co-ordinated and supplemented with one-nighters, four lovers guaranteed sex at least every second night.

Except now she had four lovers and Heather.

And Heather was better than all the others put together.

*****

Naz had met Heather shortly before their very first "Economics and . . ." lecture. Having Bradford in common they'd bonded almost instantly. At the time, without a lesbian thought in her head, Naz had seen Heather as sexy, vital and fun. In fact she'd admired her.

Tall, darkly tanned and full of va-va-voom, what was there not to admire!

For long enough that initial bonding had been as far as it went. Their one point of contact had been their weekly joint lecture. Sometimes they'd sit together but usually they just nodded and swapped smiles. When they did speak Heather always kicked off with the same question: "What news from home?"

That question made Naz laugh every time. It conjured up images of nineteenth century settlers, six weeks' sail from London, keen for news of Prince Albert's health and the latest instalments of A Tale of Two Cities.

Things changed later, right at the start of their second year. The previous season Naz had, courtesy of a big bust-up, become the vice-captain of what was now "Carrie City". Despite the very crap name, Carrie's Carrie City had been far and away the best side in the university's internal league. They had won the leadership, the playoffs and two out of three cups. All the players (Naz very much included) rued that third cup defeat. They had blown the semi-final by sheer bad luck and it still rankled. The target for the second season was to sweep the board. Nothing less would do.

So then: the trials. Carrie City was the team to be in. Defending champions of just about everything, no other side had the allure. Ten of last season's squad were still at uni, all eager to be involved. So too were plenty of newcomers. While the rest of the teams picked squads based on reputations and friendships, Carrie City was going to be selected professionally and ruthlessly.

Carrie's trials took the form of two ninety minute matches on her "home" pitch (all the league's pitches were bunched together; an "away" fixture might entail a walk of an extra couple of hundred yards). As there were two dozen candidates the games had been twelve-a-side, to give everyone equal chance to shine. And everyone turned up for both.

Naz would never forget that first match, held on a Wednesday afternoon. Or rather, she'd never forget the impact Heather had had on the crowded dressing room.

Oh my, she'd thought as the other girl discarded her student's clobber and, stark naked, started up a conversation with the girl changing next to her. My, oh my!

She had, of course, known Heather was beautiful. She'd known she was tall and tanned and had the most wonderful mane of hair. She'd known the girl had curves and bumps in all the right places. But seeing her naked . . .

Naz could remember glancing around the dressing room. Everybody was staring at Heather, some of them with their tongues hanging out.

Amazonian: that wasn't quite the right word for her, but it was close. Her body was strong, obviously athletic yet above all womanly, and shockingly so. Naz had always had an eye for detail but initially struggled to see beyond the initial wow factor. Fortunately, Heather hadn't been in any hurry to get into her kit, so there had been ample opportunity to study.

Skin first. Flawless and not too many shades lighter than Naz's own. Heather must have holidayed somewhere hot because she had a white patch where tiny bikini bottoms had been. Well, the patch looked white in contrast to the rest of her. In reality she was healthily tanned there, too. Tits . . . no sign of any patches; she must have left her bikini tops at home. No doubt neighbouring sunbathers had been grateful for that; her tits were firm and round and just about perfect, crowned with nice, dark brown areolae and very prominent nipples.

And where to begin with the rest of her? She had a narrow waist between comparatively wide hips and shoulders. Her legs were long but not disproportionate, muscled and powerful-looking but smooth and feminine.

Dragging her eyes away, Naz got into her own kit then sat on a bench to fasten her boots.

'Manchester United?' a voice said, mockingly.

It was Heather, still naked but holding a white football shirt. Trials didn't warrant two full kit washes, so they were all in personal gear and responsible for their own laundering.

'Leeds United?' Naz countered. 'I stole mine off a one-night stand. What's your excuse?'

'Similar circumstances, I'm afraid. Believe it or not, mine used to sleep in this.'

'Did he wear it on the job?'

'Did he?' Heather laughed. 'No, I'm capable of all sorts, but I couldn't have submitted to a lover in a Leeds shirt.'

Finally kitted-up, they walked to the pitch together. Carrie was waiting with piles of red and blue bibs.

'I'll have blue,' she said. 'You can have first pick.'

Erring on the side of caution, Naz picked one of last season's better players. Carrie followed suit and that went on until all ten known quantities had been chosen. Not having a clue about the ability of the others, Naz then picked Heather, working on the principle that she might as well select a side that looked good, world-beaters or not.

Heather excelled in those ninety minutes. Occupying the middle of midfield, she was head-to-head with Carrie and matched her tackle for tackle. Surprised at first (nobody matched Carry on the football field!), Naz had really enjoyed watching their clashes. Carrie was, she supposed, the more skilled of the two but Heather had the three sporting essentials: she was fitter, faster and stronger. She was also capable of winning forty-sixty challenges as well as most of the fifty-fifties.

Afterwards, as the last few stragglers emerged from the showers, Carrie gave one of her trademark debriefs. Normally she did this bare-chested with a towel tied around her waist. That day she did it stark bollock naked. Naz had sniggered at that, suspecting her captain was trying to compete with their new star player. Okay, tits-wise it was a contest. Otherwise she was wasting her time.

'Good efforts all round,' Carrie began. 'I've got plenty of food for thought. Will everyone be back for another go on Saturday?'

Everyone indicated they would be.

'Excellent,' said Carrie. 'After Saturday's trial I'm going to finalize my squad of fifteen . . .'

'Fifteen,' one of the newcomers echoed.

'That's the league limit,' Carrie explained. 'I wish it was higher, but I understand why it is what it is. Let's face it: we can only use two subs. If I had a squad of twenty-four, eleven girls would be twiddling their thumbs every week. And we're all here because we want to be playing, aren't we?'

'There are still options for those who miss out,' Naz put in. 'At least two other teams are still looking for players.'

'Yeah,' someone called from the back. 'Helen's Hellcats have vacancies.'

That brought jeers and laughter. The Hellcats had gone through last season disastrously, losing and drawing right, left and centre . . . mostly losing. They had only won their very last match, and that had been on a day when, in footballing parlance, the opposition were "already on the beach".

Chapter Seven

(Friday 26th April 2002)

The second trial was held on a gloriously sunny morning. That time Naz got the choice of bib colour and Carrie had first pick, choosing Heather without hesitation. Naz would have picked Heather ahead of the rest herself, to even out the midfields again. The thought of facing a Carrie/Heather combo had made her groan inwardly. Even so, when Carrie kicked off with Heather in goals she'd been bemused as much as relieved.

Why of why has she done that, she'd wondered. Jessie hardly let anything past her last season. She's nailed-on as goalie.

Nothing much happened for the opening ten minutes or so. Naz's red bibs had done a lot of pressing without giving Heather a lot to do. Then the trialist centre forward caught a long through-ball and hammered it goal-ward. Hurling her body acrobatically into the air, Heather tipped the shot over the bar.

And then, from the resultant corner, Naz had had a golden opportunity to score. Her forehead made perfect contact with the ball, sending it crashing down onto the goal-line, mere inches inside the post.

'Goal!' she yelled, like Pele before her.

Landing and standing open-mouthed as Heather flew along the line and somehow batted it away.

Gordon Banks might have been proud of such a save but Carrie didn't seem impressed. Next time the ball went out of play she shuffled players around, putting Heather at left back. Not at all fazed, Heather immediately nullified Naz's right-side attacking threat and embarked on a series of daring overlapping runs, most of them culminating in accurate, left-footed crosses.

Fifteen minutes before halftime Carrie reshuffled again. She put Heather on the right wing where, beating defenders for fun, she sent over a series of accurate, right-footed crosses.

Naz, 3-2 down at the interval, tried to work out what Carrie was up to. Testing character? Testing adaptability? Or was she demonstrating how powerful she was? Heather wasn't the only one who'd been moved from pillar to post, otherwise she'd have suspected victimisation was afoot.

The second half was better forgotten as the Carrie/Heather combo in midfield was finally unleashed. Naz's reds rarely got out of their own half and she felt lucky to only lose 9-3.

Carrie conducted her debrief stark naked again. 'More good efforts all round,' she began. 'Before we adjourn to the Union I have some interesting information. Assuming nobody's heard about Thursday's League meeting, that is.'

Heads were shaken, Naz's among them. She'd been supposed to attend but had a prior engagement with a big black guy called Ricky. No way would she have forsaken him for a stuffy old meeting.

'We discussed two things,' Carry went on, 'the massive interest shown in joining up this season. And playing time, which is a much older chestnut.

'We agreed straightaway that sticking to a league of nine teams was not the way to go. So this season, as well as Helen's Hellcats, there's going to be Hellcats 2, Hellcats 3 and Hellcats 4. That's an extra forty-five places to cater for the extra interest. It also cuts out the need to miss a week as "the ninth team."'

Naz had thought that was an excellent idea. Judging from expressions, so did nearly everyone else.

Carrie hadn't finished yet. 'Some of you scoffed when I mentioned the Hellcats on Wednesday. This season is going to be different. Helen only had eight returning players, including herself. She's very nobly agreed to give up six of them, two to each new team. In effect, each pair will be captain and vice-captain. Between the four captains they're agreeing . . . probably have already agreed . . . a sort of draft pick arrangement.

'What I'm trying to say is that we're going to have four new teams with hardly any baggage from last year; four completely fresh starts.'

'You mentioned playing time,' prompted a voice from the ranks.

'That is a very good point. Last season we all had two subs and they usually only got ten minutes at the end of a game. This season we're having four, so the whole squad is involved every week. Better still, this season all four subs have to be used for minimally thirty minutes every match. So whoever you sign up for, you are guaranteed at least half an hour every week.'

The survivors from last season particularly liked that. No more sitting on the bench, praying for minor, match-ending injuries.

'That's it from me,' Carrie concluded. 'Thank you all for turning out. I'll put the squad on the notice board outside the Union in half an hour. And there will be representatives from the Hellcats in the bar itself, keen to sign new recruits.'

*****

Helen waved to Carrie and Naz as they entered the Union Bar. She'd bagged a quiet table (as quiet as you could get in there, anyhow) and had her nose in a small notepad.

Naz grinned at her. Helen was larger than life with a mass of blonde curls. Although she claimed to be "big-boned" there wasn't a visible ounce of fat on her. And, unlike most of her team last year, she was very good at football. She was also exceptionally good-looking and often seen out and about with one guy or another. Of course she was in demand; looks aside, she was a genuine people person.

'Here she is,' said Carrie, surprisingly jovial. 'Come to pilfer our best prospects.'

'I love you too,' Helen replied. 'Are you going to the bar, by any chance? I seem to have forgotten my purse.'

Armed with pints of thirst-quenching shandy they huddled around the table. 'How's it going?' Carrie asked.

Helen consulted her notepad. 'Wendy's Witches have got twelve players . . .'

'Wendy's Witches?' said Naz.

'That's Hellcats 2, to you. We're officially changing names on Monday. Sophie's Sex Kittens . . .'

'No way,' said Carrie, cutting her off. 'The League won't accept that.'

'I just knew you'd object. Okay, Sophie's Sirens have got thirteen players. So have Angela's Angels. I've got eight, counting myself, so we need fourteen more between us.'

'I thought you'd agreed a draft pick, to keep things even.'

'We have. I traded some picks yesterday.' Helen pretended to shudder. 'What a busy day that was. I daren't think how many lectures the four of us skipped.'

'Where are the other three?'

'It's the weekend. They're all up to various forms of no good. I'm trusted to have the first six picks and then make one each for them. Nine is right, isn't it?'

'Yes, I think they're all here.' Carrie produced some blank team sheets and passed one to Naz. 'Write your fifteen in appropriate positions. I'll do the same. Then we'll compare. Wherever we agree, we've got a squad member. Where we don't agree, we discuss.'

Helen chatted cheerfully away as her companions deliberated and wrote. 'I'm missing a goalkeeper,' she said. 'That's my biggest concern. Keeper aside, we can easily fill the last few places after I've charmed your unlucky nine.'

'I came across a good keeper this morning,' said Carrie. 'And here she comes. Cover up your team sheet, Naz.'

'Sorry to interrupt,' Heather began. 'But I've a confession to make. You need to hear it before you commit yourselves to anything.'

'I hope it's a rude one,' said Helen.

Heather seemed to notice her for the first time. She looked into the blonde's eyes and Naz actually felt something pass between them.

Wow, what was that!

'I'm afraid it's not at all rude,' Heather said. 'You'll have to join me at the bar for the rude ones.' Then, addressing Carrie, 'You know I play hockey . . .'

'Hmmm, let me think,' Carrie said dryly. 'Would you be the Heather Hunter who scores at will for our internationally famous first XI?'

'Yeah, well . . . I saw the fixtures this morning. We've got Wednesdays this time, as well as Saturdays. Not a lot, but I heard what you said about playing time . . .'

'How many Wednesdays have you got?'

'There are four in the league and at least one in a new cup competition. They're all evening matches, so the two at home won't be a problem. I'll just play one game after the other. The away ones are in Plymouth and Aberdeen, though. We'll be travelling while you're playing.'

'Where is this cup match?'

'They haven't made the draw yet. It could be home or local. Or we could be back in Aberdeen.'

'Do allow me to consult with Naz.'

They left Heather and Helen chatting together and strategically retreated. 'Did you pick her?' Carrie began.

'Of course I did. She was the first name I put down.'

'What, before me?' Carrie chuckled. 'No, don't answer that. Where did you put her?'

'Next to you, in midfield.'

'What do think about the hockey?'

'It's only two matches. And our fixtures aren't out yet. With any luck we'll only be playing friendlies when she's unavailable.'

'With three new teams we won't be playing so many friendlies. And what if they go on a Wednesday evening cup run? It's got to be a possibility.'

Naz really wanted Heather on board. She really, really did. 'We cross our fingers,' she said, 'and hope they get drawn at places like Salford or Bradford.'

'Okay, that's enough. Management decision made.'

Heather and Helen had certainly hit it off while they'd been consulting. If Helen had got any closer she'd have been sitting on Heather's knee.

'Is she offering you the earth to play in the Hellcats' goals?' Carrie's tone was derisive. 'Don't listen to her, Heather. You're running City's midfield with me.'

'What about playing time?'

'We don't have to name four subs. In fact we don't have to name any subs if we're short. Thirty minutes applies to the ones we do name. And welcome on board, Heather.'

Heather shook Carrie's hand, grinned at Naz and patted Helen on the shoulder. Naz watched her all the way back to the bar.