Love Hurts

And finally, that was the year I first met Paul Chadwick. A couple of years older than me, Paul, tall and gangly with a mop of dirty blonde hair, was a friend of my brothers, or at least he ran in the same gangs as they did. I never could figure how or why he even came to the estate. His family was wealthy—his father owned a nationwide chain of hardware stores—and he had attended an expensive private school. I supposed at first that he just liked to walk on the wild side. Whatever, I didn't take to him.

I think it's clear by now that, thanks to Nick Jessop, I don't scare easily but something about Paul Chadwick made me shiver. He was weird. The most disconcerting aspect about him was his dark eyes which never quite met those of whoever he was speaking to: they seemed blank, almost as if the inner person was dead. Later I began to suspect that he was seriously disturbed.

And there was something else. The first time I met him he didn't even say hello, he simply stared at me with those scary eyes and said in a monotone: "I'm going to marry you when we're grown up." God knows where that came from, I'm no oil painting even now and at that time I didn't even have a figure worth mentioning.

Every time I saw Paul thereafter, he'd say: "Remember, I'm going to marry you one day." He didn't stalk me or anything like that, just made that promise in his flat, almost sinister, voice.

Somehow, against all the odds in that environment, I managed to stay a fairly decent person and at sixteen I knew that I'd have to get out. I was old enough to leave school, which was a useless dump anyway, so one morning I simply jammed a few clothes in a holdall and walked away without looking back—in effect, I estranged myself from my family. I doubt whether anyone noticed straight away I was missing and if they did, well, they wouldn't have cared. They sure as hell didn't report me to the police as a missing teen. I stayed a couple of nights in a Salvation Army hostel and they managed to find me a job as a general factotum in a small hotel. It wasn't much of a place and the pay wasn't great but I had my own small room in the loft with three meals a day.

Again with a little help from the Sally Annie I started going to evening classes, making up for the poor schooling I'd had. Surprise, surprise—I discovered I was brighter than I'd always thought and I came to love education. I was getting to like the hotel too and among other subjects I took business studies and hotel management. At eighteen I was promoted to receptionist. I inadvertently encountered Paul Chadwick two or three times and on each occasion he said: "Remember, Marti, we're going to marry." After each such meeting, I didn't sleep too well for several nights.

During this time my mother died from cirrhosis—somebody from the estate managed to find out where I was and let me know about it. As when my father died, I didn't mourn. Sad, but there you are. A lifetime of neglect can do that to you. There was enough left of Dad's compensation to pay for the funeral with a bit over. I didn't want anything to do with it so I told my brothers to split the remainder between themselves. I didn't have to tell them twice. As I left they were already squabbling over division of the loot. And that was the last I saw of any of them for quite a few years.

I said that I had struggled with my sexuality, wondering sometimes if I was perhaps bi-, and in an effort to persuade myself that I was slept with a few men. Sometimes it was okay, sometimes not, but even the okay ones did nothing much for me other than leave me cold. It was only when Lacey, one of the hotel's older maids, seduced me that I finally accepted what I was. She crept into my room one night as I was dozing, sat on the edge of my bed and eased my sheet down (it was a hot summer night and I was sleeping naked).

"What the—" I jerked up, a fist raised to defend myself. A soft hand folded itself over my fist to stop me punching out.

"It's okay, Marti, it's only me, Lacey..."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

She made little soothing noises. "I'm here to help you, Marti," she said, "I've seen the way you look at girls, you get a really longing look on your face, like you want to shag them, but you don't make any moves so I'm guessing you're a gay virgin. Am I right, Marti, are you gay?"

"I... I don't know... I... I think so..."

"Good, then let me help you out." Lacey eased me back down and kissed my mouth, slipping me her tongue as she started playing with my boobs. "Just enjoy it."

When her head went between my legs and she began to eat me I knew for sure that this was where I belonged and I had my first lovely orgasm from another woman. After Lacey finished me off, she shed her nightgown and knelt over my face, lowering a wet, shaven quim to my mouth. Not knowing what to expect—I had never tasted my own juices—I gave a tentative lick and wasn't sure about it so I took another. The taste was like nothing I had tried before, odd and not easy to describe—a little sour, a little sweet, a lot musky. After several licks I decided I liked it and set to with clumsy enthusiasm. I must have done okay because Lacey eventually came with a long groan, smearing my face with thick juices.

Lacey's visits became a regular thing for several months. She let me explore her body with its big soft breasts and almost permanently slick pussy so that before long it was more familiar to me than my own. I was fascinated by her clit which was far larger than mine, protruding quite some way from her upper labia, and suckled on it every chance I got. I learned a lot from Lacey but I didn't do anything stupid like fall in love with her so it was no hardship to let go when she decided to move on.

Some weeks after Lacey left, the boss called all the staff together to tell us that he was selling up and that the new owners were likely to bring in their own staff. Most of us would be out of a job. I reckoned it was about time for a change anyway and after some careful thought I joined the army, Royal Military Police would you believe.

During my service, I was careful to conceal my sexuality. It had taken military law a very long time to catch up with civil law in regard to gays—thirty years or more—and although homosexuality was no longer an offence in the army a lot of prejudice still existed among all ranks. I just let people think I was stand-offish or asexual—well, I suppose in a way I was with men. And I didn't drink which made me a bit of an oddity in the army. For a couple of years Lance-Corporal Howard was attached to a Provost Company in some garrison town until the day our Company Sergeant-Major saw me bring down and arrest a drunken and violent squaddie twice my size. He recommended I be retrained as a drill and arrest and restraint instructor. After that, promotion to full corporal and then sergeant came swiftly. The army also had a good education service and I took full advantage of that. But by the time I had served seven years the government's economic cutbacks began to bite and it looked as if there would be severe reductions in the military. I decided to go before I was pushed and was given an exemplary conduct discharge.

So there I was, twenty-six years old and out on a limb once more. I really had nowhere to go after the army so I returned to the city and after a couple of weeks was lucky enough to land a job as a hotel receptionist. I found a flat not far from my workplace, small sitting room, smaller bedroom, kitchenette and shower-room. Like so many places in the city the rent was pricey and it wasn't up to much but then I didn't need much. I furnished it with bits-and-pieces from a cheap store, nothing elegant but having been in the military I was accustomed to nothing elegant.

And I discovered the Guys & Dolls nightclub where I could be my natural self again and in time that brought me to my meeting with Niamh...

* * * * *

"...I don't think he'll be up to raping anyone for a long time," I said.

Niamh clutched my arm and looked at me in awe. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"I grew up in a rough neighbourhood," I told her, "You know the Balmain Estate?"

"I've heard of it," she said, "Never been there, though."

"Good. Don't go there, it's not a nice area. That's where I'm from. Now let's get you that taxi."

Niamh nodded at the stricken thug who was still making squealing noises. "What about him?"

"Don't bother about him—he wouldn't have cared about you after he'd finished with you. Leave him, it'll give him time to think about his wicked ways."

As we walked away, Niamh said: "Are you really what that man called you?"

"What, a nosy bitch?"

Although we were alone, Niamh practically whispered. "No, a dildo-dyke."

I couldn't help laughing. "Niamh, I promise you I've never been on either end of a dildo in my life."

When we got to the taxi-rank there was not a vehicle in sight. About half-a-dozen would-be passengers were lined up, none of them looking very happy. "Join the queue, girls," a middle-aged woman said, "Seems they're having a very busy night. Could be up to an hour's wait."

I thanked her and turned to Niamh. "Look, my flat's only ten minutes walk from here. It's no great shakes but it's clean enough. I can put you up for the night if you like. The sofa's comfortable and I've got a sleeping-bag you can use."

Niamh considered for a moment then nodded assent. Taking out her mobile phone, she made a call. "Hi, Mum, it's me... I missed the last bus... I'm staying with a friend tonight... yes, see you in the morning... love you, Mum..."

I winced at that last bit. Bad memory. It reminded me of the last time I'd said that to my mother. As I said, bad memory...

Then, unexpectedly, Niamh slipped a hand into mine. "Let's go, Marti."

* * * * *

"Well, I did tell you it's not up to much." When we'd got into my flat, I'd kicked off my boots, given Niamh the penny tour and now I looked around my little sitting-room, seeing it as I imagined she must be seeing it. Anyone who lived somewhere like Langton Heights would be bound to find this place a bit shabby.

"What's wrong with it?" Niamh replied, "I'd love a little place like this to myself but city rents are a bit above an NHS trainee's pay. Oh, I'm happy enough at home but it would be nice to have some independence."

"Guess you're right— I escaped from home when I was sixteen."

"That young? What're your family like, Marti?"

"My parents are both dead. I've got three brothers but I never see them."

Niamh put a hand on mine. "Aw, that's so sad."

I made a kind of non-committal uh-huh noise. "Anyway, there's the sofa, I'll just find you my sleeping-bag and a couple of pillows."

Niahm stepped in front of me, placed her hands on my shoulders and to my surprise kissed me full on the mouth. Her lips were soft and velvety. "Is that really necessary, Marti? It looks as if your bed is roomy enough for the two of us. I'd like to go to bed with you please, Marti." She kissed me again, this time teasing my lips with a lively little tongue.

"Are you sure about this, Niamh?"

"Oh yes." She gave me a hundred-watt smile. "I've been sure ever since you butted in when that awful man was trying to pick me up. My hero."

"A hero? Me? No, I'm just a nosy bitch."

Niamh laughed with delight and threw her arms around me. "So what are we waiting for, my nosy bitch?"

I took her hand and led her to my bed. "There's something I'd better tell you, Marti," Niamh added, her perkiness fading slightly, "I might not be very good at this—I've only ever been with a couple of girls. And they were both inexperienced fumblers like me."

I stroked her cheek. "That's okay. Let's just take it easy and see how we go." I unfastened the top two buttons of her shirt and bent to kiss the soft hollow at the base of her throat. Niamh gave a little sigh and held my head close. She smelled delicious. I'm not big on perfumes and couldn't identify Niamh's but it made me think of a line from an old song called 'Lilac Wine'—"...sweet and heady like my love..."

I took my time in undoing all of the buttons, planting a lingering kiss on her torso for each one loosened. After the last button I spread the shirt aside. Niamh wore no bra and her breasts were small and neat with pale pink nipples. Cupping them with my hands, I took one nipple between my lips and teeth and bit down upon it, very gently, before sucking and bathing it with my tongue. The nipple became harder and engorged under my ministrations and Niamh made a whimpering noise as she clasped my head closer. I released the nipple and blew on it with feathery breath before treating the other in the same fashion.

Continuing to play her nipples between fingers and thumbs, I made my leisurely way down her body with lips and tongue, burying my nose into her soft belly to inhale her sweet smell. I undid the button and zip on her skirt, lowering it to the floor and lifting her feet clear. Niamh was wearing a tiny transparent thong, little more than a cache-sex, through which I could see a neat triangle of dark red hair and the top of a tightly closed little slit. A fragrant muskiness filled my nostrils and I kissed her pubes through the thong.

Rising to my feet, I slipped her shirt from her shoulders kissing her mouth as I did so. Niamh wrapped welcoming arms around my neck and her tongue sought its way into my mouth, exploring and caressing. Her tongue and saliva were sweet and I sucked at them eagerly.

Niamh began to tug at my t-shirt, freeing it from my trousers waistband and lifting it over my head before reaching behind me to unclasp my bra. At 34B my boobs aren't massive but they are firm and shapely with thick dark-red nipples. Taking one in each hand, Niamh said: "They're beautiful—I love them." and placed a kiss on each nipple.

I guided her back to the bed, lowering her on to the edge while I knelt in front of her, removing the dampened thong before spreading her legs a little to admire her secret place. Below the triangle of pubic hair, Niamh's small pussy was bare and smooth, vulva plump and already shining with slick wetness. The smell of female arousal was, like the lilac wine, 'sweet and heady'. I ran a forefinger along Niamh's cleft and carried the juice to my mouth, sucking it off. "Niamh, has anyone ever told you you've got the most adorable honeypot?" I said.

She giggled. "They have now." Then she added: "Honeypot—I like that word."

I eased the labia apart so that I could admire the rosy-coloured parts with their puffy inner lips and darling tiny clitoris emerging from its hood. Lowering my head , I ran my tongue's tip from vagina to clit and back again.

"Oh my God!" Niamh cried out, "God, Marti, that feels so good. Please do it again!"

From her reaction, I guessed that must have been Niamh's first experience of oral sex. I slid a finger into her tight passage and her hips jerked as she cried out softly. I brought my tongue into play again, trying to cover all the delicious folds so as to maximise her pleasure. Niamh lifted her legs so that her feet rested flat on the bed, at the same time spreading them a little more widely apart. When I glanced up I could see her hands clutching at the bedclothes and her hips were steadily jerking in time with the movement of my finger. With great care I managed to ease a second finger into her vagina which rippled and clutched at me. By now she was producing copious quantities of juice, smearing my face as I lapped. The jerking of her hips was accompanied by a series of little cries and moans, all increasing in tempo. Fingers exploring the silken walls, I found Niamh's g-spot at the same moment sucking her clit into my lips and flicking it with my tongue., Niamh's whole body seemed to stiffen and lift clear of the bed as she cried out loudly.

She collapsed back onto the bed as her orgasm subsided and I continued to work at her pussy, wanting to make her come again. I withdrew my fingers from her vagina and reached up with both hands to play with her boobs and nipples. I thrust my tongue into her as far as I could, rubbing my nose into the top of her cleft and against her clitoris. Her hips started to jerk rhythmically once more and I brought her off again very quickly. Covering the whole of her pussy with my mouth, I sucked in the plump and swollen lips so as to enjoy the taste of her as much as I could.

Niamh sat up, tugging at me to bring me up to her level so that she could kiss my mouth and lick my lips and chin. "Oh, Marti, I've never come like that before and I don't think I've ever been so wet." She fumbled at the fastenings of my trousers, pushing them down before slipping her fingers into the waistband of my panties to remove those. I had a strange moment of worry then, wondering what Niamh would think when she uncovered me. It had never in my life occurred to me to even trim my pubes, let alone shave my pussy lips, and I had quite a bush down there. None of my few previous lovers had commented and thankfully it didn't seem to worry Niamh either. Her hand cupped my pussy and then she ran a finger along my slit.

"You're lovely and wet too." Niamh's lips fastened onto one of my nipples and she sucked hard. A jolt shot through me as if there was a direct line from my nipples to my pussy and I let out a gasp as my hips gave an involuntary twitch. Niamh continued to suck and lick my nipples as she slid a couple of fingers into me. Her free arm went around me so that she could clutch at my bottom and pull me closer. I felt my internal muscles tighten and I held Niamh's head even more closely to my boobs. The feel of her mouth and tongue on my nipples alone was bringing me close to orgasm and then her thumb brushed my clit. I felt a sudden liquid surge in my pussy and I exploded. I had been standing throughout this and I almost collapsed as ecstasy shook me.

I slumped onto the bed still shaking and Niamh held me close. "Can I taste you, Marti?"

"Oh yes please," I moaned. She knelt between my legs, lowering her head, and a pointed little tongue fluttered up and down my cleft.

Niamh looked up at me with a daft grin. "I could get to like this," she said. I felt her fingers easy my vulva lips apart and I looked up to see her gazing into my pussy. "That's beautiful," she told me, "All shiny and wet for me and you smell so good." She put a finger into me and then withdrew it, holding it to my lips. "Here, taste." Niamh's tongue flickered out again, lapping from my perineum to clit. I came again, virtually without warning. Coming so quickly on top of my first orgasm, it damned near knocked me out.

I came down slowly to find an anxious Niamh stroking my face. "Marti, are you all right?"

I put my arms around her and held her close. "I'm fine," I assured her, "It's just been a while. I haven't even masturbated in several weeks. You know, Niamh, for someone worried about her lack of experience, you were brilliant." We cuddled for a while then Niamh started to chuckle quietly.

"What?"

"I was just thinking about what would happen if our parish priest could see me," she said, "Father Donovan is the most appalling old bigot. In confession once when I was fourteen or so I mentioned impure thoughts and I thought he'd have a fit. I hadn't even mentioned fancying girls, only that I sometimes had impure thoughts. He ranted at me for about five minutes then gave me fifty Our Fathers and a hundred Hail Marys as a penance. For the next three Sundays his sermon was a diatribe against those who aren't pure of heart... and straight. If he saw us now he'd probably get straight on the phone to Hell and reserve my place next to the biggest furnace." She kissed me. "Reckon it'd be worth it, at that."