My Old Flame

One day, Jack wasn't on the bus. I assumed she was ill or something, but she wasn't there again the next day. I told myself it didn't matter, after all, she wasn't even a friend; but I felt a slight emptiness, and I missed her constant rabbiting away. When she failed to show up for a third day, I took my courage in my hands, walked back into the lion's den of the estate kids, and asked one of her former friends if she knew where Jack was. The girl looked at me as if she'd just wiped me off the sole of her shoe, rolled her eyes then turned away from me again without a word.

That evening I found out why Jack hadn't been around. I was walking out of the school gates, nattering with friends, when I heard a sound like a cross between an extended fart and a lawnmower engine. I looked round for the source, and Jack rolled to the kerb in front of me astride a Lambretta motor cycle, looking very pleased with herself. She called, "Hi Suze, d'ya wanna lift home?"

I gaped in astonishment, and walked slowly over to her. She had a graze on her face, and one of her wrists was bandaged. I asked her what had happened to her. She grinned. "Oh, just a few teething troubles getting used to this thing. So do you want a ride home?" I was aware of my friends standing bemusedly a few feet away, wondering who this weird creature was that I was speaking to. I began to explain I had my bus pass, but Jack interrupted me. "Well, it's up to you. You can either sit on the bus, toiling through every village on the county for over an hour, or I can have you at your front door in half an hour. Your choice."

She had a good point and, reluctantly, I agreed. As my friends watched in open amusement, I swung my leg over the bike. Then a thought occurred to me. "Don't I need a helmet? And anyway, should you even be riding this thing if your wrist's still bandaged?"

Jack laughed. "It's fine. And no, you don't need a helmet as long as you hold on tight. You need to put your arms round my waist. Tighter than that Suze, if you don't want to fall off and break your neck. That's better." My friends were in hysterics now, and cheered as Jack revved the engine and pulled away. That ride was the most exhilarating experience of my entire life up to that point. Once we got out of the town centre Jack opened up the throttle, and we whipped along the road, my hair streaming behind me in the wind. My adrenalin was pumping, and when Jack took a hill too quickly and we flew into the air for a moment I actually whooped! I had never known excitement like it. I got Jack to drop me some distance from home, so my parents wouldn't see me. As I walked home I rapidly dragged a brush through my tangled hair. After that, I pretended every morning that I was leaving home to catch the bus, but instead I rendezvoused with Jack and she drove me into town, then took me back again each evening. Each day I clung tightly to her waist as the powerful little machine throbbed between my legs. I insisted on wearing a helmet, which Jack kept for me.

One afternoon, as I got off the bike, Jack placed her hand on mine, stopping me. "Suze, I'm taking the bike on a run down to Brighton at the weekend. I wondered if you fancied coming along?" Brighton was quite a distance from Millgate Crossing, especially on a little motorbike. But there was a look of appeal on Jack's face. She was giving me these lifts every day, we never met up apart from that, and she wouldn't even let me give her petrol money. I smiled and nodded. She grinned delightedly and, as she accelerated away, called out, "Bring yer cozzie!"

On the Friday night I told my mother a friend and I were taking a train down to Brighton for the day. She was interested to know who this friend was, but I bluffed my way through that. In my bedroom I debated with myself which swimming costume I should take: the standard one piece I wore for school; or the more daring blue halter-neck two-piece I had bought in a moment of madness, but never had the courage to wear outside my room. After fully ten minutes of indecision, I thought, "Oh to heck with it, I bought the ruddy thing, I might as well get some use out of it." After all, it was quite modest, as bikinis went.

Jack and I met early on Saturday morning and had a fun ride down to Brighton. On the way we stopped at a transport café where we had a disgusting, greasy, wonderful fried breakfast, and we giggled to each other pretending not to notice truckers from halfway across Europe ogling us. When we arrived in the South Coast resort Jack parked her bike alongside a hundred others, and I slipped off the jeans and sweatshirt I'd travelled in to reveal shorts and a vest top, beneath which I had on the bikini. Jack's eyes roved up and down my body, and she murmured, "Cor, you've got great legs Suze. I'm envious." Chattering happily, we made our way towards the beach.

As we approached the seafront I vaguely noticed one or two middle-aged men with binoculars pointed towards the sea, but it didn't really register until I got onto the shingle itself. Then I glanced around me -- and did a double-take. I turned to my friend and squeaked, "Jack, you have got to be joking!" I'd heard of Brighton's infamous nude beach, of course -- but never in my life had I thought I would ever actually stand on it. Jack gurgled with laughter at my reaction and started whipping off her T-shirt, beneath which she was nude. Moving her hands to her tracksuit trousers, she said, "Come on Suze, Reverend Daddy's not here now. Live a bit." I glanced away in embarrassment as she stood before me entirely naked, stretching out the blanket she'd brought for us to lie on on the rough, pebbly beach. I was torn by indecision. Finally, seeing Jack settle herself, I blurted, "Oh...fizz!" and, angrily ripped off my outer clothing, as Jacks snorted with laughter and started to sing David Bowie's Rebel Rebel.

I threw myself down on the blanket beside her, determined to be angry with her. The beach wasn't very comfortable, even through the thick wool. Jack, her eyes hidden behind dark glasses, leaned up on her elbows and said, "Is that it?" I whirled to face her. She inclined her head toward a public notice, and said, "This is a nudist beach, as in not having clothes on. They don't allow you on here unless you are nude, otherwise every perv in Brighton'd be down here." I allowed myself a suppressed scream of rage. Next thing I knew, Jack was sitting up and fiddling with the catch of my bikini bra. "At least take your top off. I'm sure they won't mind if you keep your knicks on." Before I could stop her my bra swung loose and, seeing little choice, I reluctantly shrugged it off. Jack stared openly at my big swinging boobs and chuckled, "Bugger me, I'm jealous again!"

I lay back on the blanket self-consciously. Gradually, though, I allowed myself to relax. The feel of the warm sun on my skin was nice, and everyone else on the beach was at least as bare as I was. As for those horrible dirty old men with their binoculars, well, it wasn't as if any of them knew me. After a while, I glanced over at Jack, who appeared to be asleep, one knee raised. Her skin seemed almost deathly pale. Feeling slightly like a voyeur myself, I took in the sight of her. She really was skinny -- her ribs stood out under her skin, as did her hip bones, and there wasn't that much of her arms and legs either. Her boobs, although small, stood up perkily, even though she was lying on her back. Her nipples were round, like berries, and they and her small areola were very pale pink, not much darker than her skin. The little tuft of hair in her groin area was more ginger than the yellow of her head. I turned my head away from her, feeling myself blush. It was really nice of her taking me to Brighton, I thought. She could be a good friend to me, I really should start seeing more of her than just twice a day on that bike, when we couldn't even talk properly. Suddenly feeling very warm towards Jack, I stroked my hand lightly down her arm. Her lips curled in a smile and her hand scrabbled, intertwining her fingers with mine.

I'm not sure how long after that I feel asleep, lulled by the rhythmic sound of the sea, and the heat of the sun, but I was probably out of it for a couple of hours. I awoke to a shadow falling across my eyelids. I opened them slowly to find jack leaning over me, smiling down at me, no longer wearing her shades. The tip of one of her conical breasts pressed lightly into the flesh of one of my boobs. She half-whispered, "Welcome back to the land of the living, beautiful dreamer." I smiled back at her and yawned. Then, feeling the need to stretch, I splayed out my arms. That was the moment she chose to kiss me.

She crushed her lips hard onto mine, sliding her body so that she lay half on top of me, her boobs, slick with sun tan lotion, pushing into mine. Instinctively my arms jerked back in, and settled around her, as if I were pulling her to me. She lifted her face from mine, gazed at me for a moment, then kissed me again, more tenderly, her teeth gently plucking at my lower lip. I wasn't particularly alarmed at what was happening, or pleased, or anything really. Still slightly dopey from my sleep, I was more confused than anything. I mumbled, "Jack, what are you doing? Should we be doing this?""

Barely breaking the kiss, her lips still brushing mine as she spoke, she whispered, "Ssh, it's all right, all we're doing is snogging, there's nothing wrong in that. It's just friendly, snogging is. I only want to show you how much I like you." At the time (this is how naïve I was in those days!) I thought what she said seemed reasonable. Kissing was innocent enough, and it was very nice, and we were friends. My brain chose to ignore the fact that my nipples were stiffening as her breasts slid against them. When she started snogging me again, I returned the kiss, and I left my arms around her warm, bare back. Within a couple of minutes I'd allowed her tongue to slip between my lips. Another minute or so, and I felt a small, warm hand stroke my breast, the palm pressing against my straining nipple. My body was beginning to heat up with much more than solar power. As she squeezed my boob my shoulder lifted, pushing my tit hard against her hand. I felt her knee slip between my legs, her thigh rubbing at the V at the top of my legs. Acting entirely on their own, my hips began moving back and forth, sliding my heated pussy against her thigh muscle.

If we had been in a private place, she might have tried to have me right there -- and I might very well have let her. As it was, I suddenly remembered we were on a busy beach, among dozens of other people. I pulled my head away from hers and started to slide from underneath her, muttering, "Time's getting on, I think we need to start getting back." I glanced around me. A few people were staring at us, one or two smirking at the free show they'd been enjoying. Jack looked a little crestfallen at first, but as I stood, reached down and helped her up a slow smile spread across her face. I think she knew right then she hadn't been rejected; that the inevitable had just been postponed.

I walked on shaky legs back to the Lambretta, feeling the gusset of my bikini pants sticking to my pussy. We drove directly back to the village, and all the way I thought about what had happened, and what on earth I had been doing on that beach. When we arrived I leapt off the bike with a mumbled farewell and hurtled home like a scared rabbit, before Jack had a chance to say a word to me. In bed that night, though, and all day Sunday, I continued to think about it. I knew my father regarded homosexuality as a heinous sin. But did just letting Jack kiss me -- all right, kissing her back too -- did that make me a homosexual? Even if it did, her kisses felt so good, not to mention her hand on my boob and her thigh between my legs. And anyway, now I was beginning to get to know her I liked her; I liked her a lot. At least a girl couldn't get me pregnant!

On the Monday she didn't refer to what had happened between us, other than asking how I'd enjoyed the day out. In the evening, as I swung my leg over the bike and removed my helmet, she caught me by the wrist and gave me a kiss on the cheek. The next day she went further. She got off the bike as well, pulled my face down to hers, and kissed me on the lips, slipping her tongue between my teeth as I gasped in surprise. I panicked slightly, in case anyone saw us and word got back to my parents. As she released me I turned to rush away but she clung onto my hand. "Hang on Suze, I wanted to ask you something. My mum's going to be away tomorrow night, and my brother's moved back to London. I wondered if you fancied coming round for the evening. We could have a burger, a few drinks, watch a bit of TV, listen to music, whatever. We've never really had much of a chance to get to know each other properly. What do you think?"

It all sounded perfectly innocent. But I knew it wasn't. Not meeting her eyes, I told her I'd think about it and let her know. Yet less than an hour later, over our evening meal, I told my parents I wouldn't be home for dinner the next night. I'd agreed to meet up with a friend from school to work together for our exams. My father looked annoyed -- the family sitting down together was a big thing to him. But my mother just nodded and carried on with her meal. When I met up with Jack the next day, the first thing she asked me was whether I was on for the evening. Concentrating on buckling on my helmet, I murmured, "Er, yeah, okay." I tried to sound casual; I failed miserably.

I had butterflies in my tummy all day, and I couldn't wait for school to end. As I clung to Jack's waist on the ride to Millgate Crossing I could feel my heart thumping against her back. She swung the bike up the hill into the estate, and pulled into the driveway of a rather dingy looking semi-detached house, the lower half pebble dashed, the upper half painted a sickly light green. Jack swung open a cheap looking grey front door and led me along a threadbare hall carpet to a comfy looking sitting room with a plump two-seater sofa and armchairs, all covered in a cream material patterned with big red flowers, matching the wallpaper. She switched on a couple of table lamps and drew the curtains, leaving the room subtly lit. Shooting me a nervous smile, she said, "Make yourself comfortable and I'll cook us up some burgers." She took my coat and school blazer and draped them over one of the chairs. I lowered myself onto the sofa, removing my tie and undoing a couple of buttons on my blouse, trying hard to relax.

We kind of chatted, me perching uneasily on the edge of the sofa, Jack calling comments through the open kitchen door as she worked, over the sizzle of frying onions. In about 10 minutes she re-appeared, carrying a tray containing two plates with burgers in buns, complete with the onions and lettuce, accompanied by plastic bottles of ketchup and mustard, and two cheap wine glasses containing a pink liquid. I was quite impressed -- it all looked very professional. Jack giggled happily when I told her that, and placed the tray on a low coffee table in front of me. Then she squatted in front of a stereo unit in the corner, selected a CD called '70s Love Ballads, and slid it into the machine.

As Could It Be I'm Falling In Love by the Detroit Spinners began to play she flopped down on the sofa beside me and nodded at the tray. "Well, tuck in." The burger was a little more well done than I'd have liked, but she'd inserted a Kraft cheese slice in the bun as well, and it was delicious -- I suddenly realised I was starving. We munched away in silence, letting the music drift over us and sipping our wine. It was a rosé, quite sweet and slightly fizzy. I hardly ever drank alcohol, and I quickly felt it warming my cheeks and forehead.

The combination of the burger, the wine and the heat emanating from the three-bar electric heater Jack had switched on made me feel much more relaxed, and I leaned back into the sofa. Jack tucked her legs under her and angled her body towards me. Smiling, she said, "This is nice, isn't it." Not very subtly, she slipped an arm around my shoulders. I turned my head to look at her -- then we were kissing again. Quite softly at first, but gradually she upped the pace, nibbling at my lower lip, licking her tongue along my teeth. As we melded to each other a hand closed over one of my boobs, and she started to gently squeeze. Not sure what to do with my hands, I sort of put my arms around her and placed them lightly on her back.

We snogged for several minutes before we finally came up for air. Jack smiled at me, and with a finger she stroked a strand of my hair off my face. She whispered, "I fancied you from the first moment I saw you on that bus. I kept trying to catch your eye, but you always had your nose buried in a book. It took me months to pluck up the courage to come and talk to you." I wasn't used to such talk, and with that and the wine I felt my face blushing furiously. I lowered my eyes shyly. Jack caught my chin in a hand and raised it, then we were kissing again.

Even though she was smaller and lighter than me, she bore down on me and I gradually slid down the sofa, beneath her, my skirt slipping up my backside to reveal my big grey school pants. I bent my knees to accommodate my height on the short sofa. Between kisses Jack started whispering again. "And when I did come and sit next to you that day, and talk to you, you were so scared of me!" Kiss. "Last week, in Brighton, I couldn't believe it when you agreed to stay on the nude beach, you know!" Kiss. "I thought you'd stalk off in a strop." Kiss. "When I saw your tits," kiss, "I wasn't sure how long I could keep my hands off you." As she said that, she used one hand to undo my blouse, one button at a time. I just watched, slightly dazed. Then I shuddered as I felt her fingers stroke the skin of my stomach, just below my bra.

We kissed some more, then Jack said, "Sit up a minute." I was so under her spell I didn't think twice, simply obeyed. She reached her arms around me, inside my blouse, and I felt my bra snap open. Then she bore me back down, and as her tongue entered my mouth again I felt her hands close over my bare boobs, her palms rubbing my nipples. I had never felt so scared in my life, yet at the same time so excited. Uncertainly, I pressed my hand to one of her little boobs, outside her blouse. She moaned encouragement into my mouth, and pushed hard against my hand. Then she released one of my tits, and grabbed my hand, thrust it between the buttons of her blouse and straight into her bra. Her boob felt warm against my hand, the nipple a hard nub against my skin. Unsure of what to do, I moved my hand in small circular motions. I felt a tremor of shock as Jack ducked her head and took one of my nipples between her teeth. She bit gently into it and I moaned involuntarily, and my hips bucked against her weight on top of me. As she ran her tongue across the skin of my breast, I heard her murmur, "We can go upstairs if you like, to my bedroom."

I froze. I don't know what the hell difference I thought it made -- after all, we were all alone in the house wherever she was seducing me -- but to my confused 18-year old mind there was something different about going into another person's room with them: it felt like crossing an invisible line. What we were doing at the moment was just 'necking', as they said in American teen movies. I think I really believed that. Lifting my hand from her boob I said clearly, "No, I don't think we better had."

I thought for a moment Jack would overrule me -- in the state I was in she could have done, easily. But she just mumbled, "Okay, not this time", and sucked my boob back into her mouth. She pressed her own boob back against my hand, and I began gently squeezing it.