Since You've Been Gone

'We don't want to be talking much when we get there,' Billie advised as they crossed the campus. 'So here's the plan. We strip for each other then you switch out the light, okay? Me, I prefer to see exactly what I'm doing, but Security might notice if we leave candles burning all night.'

Angie didn't even know where her light switch was but nodded anyway.

'Whatever you do,' Billie went on, 'do not whisper. Whispers carry for miles at night. If you really have to say something, say it very softly into my ear. And whatever you do, don't scream. Bite something to keep it in.'

'Like what?'

'Like a pillow or my shoulder. Don't worry; you can go first. I'll give you a very practical example.'

'You mentioned Security. How do we get past?'

'Students all look the same to those guys. We just walk in and ignore them. They'll assume our rooms are close together and ignore us. Trust me, Angie; I've done this once or twice before.'

'Once or twice,' said Angie, dubiously.

'Okay, so I've done lots of times. Relax and stop looking so guilty.'

Angie did her best and it was good enough. Two minute of "innocent" ignoring and there they were, safely locked in her room. Her heart was going like a trip hammer and her knees were weak, but at least she'd found that light switch.

Billie held a finger to her lips and then removed her cropped leather jacket. Angie made to take off her sweatshirt but was stayed by a raised palm. Obliging as ever, she stood and watched as Billie sat on the bed to rid herself of those terribly sexy boots. Then, at Billie's signal, she removed her Docs and socks.

Now Billie pointed to herself and, exquisitely slowly, took off her T-shirt. Her torso had the predictable tattoos, some of the most alluring of which continued out of sight under her bra.

Prompted by Billie's finger, Angie at last pulled off her sweat, doing it as slowly as possible, praying she was a tenth as tantalizing as her lover.

As her lover!

Nerve-endings jangled and juices flowed. Being here like this was beyond belief.

And the need for silence did add to the occasion. It really, really did!

Billie must have been thinking along similar lines. She homed in on Angie's tits with both hands and a hungry mouth. Somehow Angie managed not to yell out her appreciation.

Then Billie was wriggling out of her tight jeans, kicking them carelessly away, reduced to pink panties and a knowing smile. Her legs were, Angie noticed, shapely for such a slender girl. And they were not without tattoos; she had a pouncing black panther just above her right ankle and a very colourful rose on a stem, high up her left inside leg.

Angie wished she'd been brave enough for tattoos.

But then Billie took off her underwired, push-up bra and she wished she'd done piercings.

The girl only had barbells threaded through her nipples!

Billie had a finger to her lips again. Her other hand was pointing at Angie's jeans. Angie whipped them off in the blink of an eye and took a pace across the small room.

Only to be stopped by another arrestingly raised palm.

Again she stood and watched, this time as Billie sat to put her boots back on, taking forever with the laces and hooks. More juices flowed. Angie's "older woman" sometimes kept her stockings on when fucking. The feel of her legs clad in silk or nylon was great against Angie's bare skin. What was the feel of those leather boots going to be like?

Apart from wildly erotic, that was.

Eventually, heart-stopping minutes later, Billie got to her feet. Smiling at Angie, she tugged down her knickers, stepping out of them and tossing them aside.

She had a shortly-trimmed landing strip. It was dyed a powdery green that matched her hair.

But Angie was transfixed by her pussy. Like her tits, Billie's pussy seemed disproportionately large. It was swollen with scalding hot blood and very visibly throbbing. There could not have ever been a girl as sexually aroused as she was; nowhere, no time, never.

And still she had the wits to put a cautionary finger to her lips.

Nodding understanding, Angie divested herself of her own knickers. Her flowing juices immediately slicked her thighs. She couldn't remember ever being so wet. Even so, she reckoned that Billie was miles ahead of her.

Make that miles and miles and miles.

The need to taste her was humungous.

So too was the need to kiss her. Here they were, flaunting their bodies at each other, and not a single kiss between them.

Not even the tiniest peck.

Angie quickly rectified that shortcoming, her head spinning as she felt Billie's metal tongue-piercing on her own tongue.

Omigod, what will that feel like on my clit!

Dimly recalling the plan, Angie clicked off the lights and pushed Billie onto the bed. There was enough ambient light from outside to see yet another finger raised to her lips.

Angie kissed the raised finger then pushed it aside and kissed Billie's mouth. Lovely, lovely, lovely! For ten, maybe fifteen minutes she kept on kissing, her hands steadily, gradually exploring Billie's tits, torso and arms but avoiding her pussy. Then she began nibbling her neck.

Billie responded by biting into Angie's shoulder, not too savagely . . . but not too gently either.

It felt very good but, as a tactic, Angie had her doubts. It was supposed to stop Billie from yelling, wasn't it? Much more of that it and it would be Angie screaming; not through pain but out of pure joy.

As if such minor worries could stay her. After giving Billie's armpits a very serious licking (and making her bite down harder than ever) she gave a little close attention to those barbells. And it was close attention indeed.

Next, she assaulted Billie's quite predictably pierced navel. Billie might well have cum at that point. Angie sincerely hoped that she did. Making her cum was the object of the exercise, wasn't it?

But there were many more cums where that one came from.

Lower she went, lower. The scent of woman was overpowering. To Angie it always was. She wasn't counting at a moment like this, but Billie was her seventh lover and her taste was unique. As were all women, all of them different in different ways: slight similarities and great gulfs . . . that was women in Angie's experience.

That was why she loved them so much. That was why she loved pleasuring. Why she loved and loved and loved it.

She quite liked the feel of leather against her too. It felt just as good as the touch of nylon or silk.

The lure of Billie's clit was massive. Superhumanly disregarding it, Angie used the tip of her tongue to lick around and inside the first inch or so of a nice and tight vagina. With no shoulder to bite on, Billie abruptly tensed, contracted harder than anyone had ever contracted and almost took off vertically.

And somehow she didn't shout and yell.

Angie kept on licking. Billie resonated. She clearly wanted more and more.

Glancing upwards Angie saw that, in the continuing absence of a shoulder, Billie was biting her own wrist. Her other hand was rapidly flitting between her tits, squeezing and squeezing.

Impressed, Angie shoved her tongue in as far as it would go, pushing until it was straining at its roots.

That reaction made Billie grunt through her nose and explode in more ways than one.

Chapter Eight

Dawn broke. Well, maybe not so much "dawn" as mid-morning. Angie woke to find Billie lying on her side and grinning at her. Memories of the night before were to say the least, fragmented.

She could picture Billie straddling her, running her pussy up and down on her supersensitive tits and very, very hard nipples.

Billie cumming gushingly, flooding her chest.

And Billie's pussy in her face, her own face in Angie's pussy, both of them chewing and sucking as if their lives depended on it.

Not to mention the tribbing. Billie liked to trib almost as much as Angie did. And lubrication was not an issue for them. They'd slid over each other like speed skaters, fast, faster and fastest.

The fingering had been great too. Early doors (the very first time Billie took control) she'd gently, very delicately penetrated Angie with two or perhaps three fingers, studying her expression as she slowly brought her off. And she'd continued after orgasm numbers two and three. Then, her fingers delicately yet relentlessly still thrusting, she'd pushed out her tongue, showing off her piercing.

The sight had triggered a multiple orgasm. It had quite possibly been Angie's biggest and best ever.

Why oh why were other women so brilliant at fingering?

When Angie first started playing with herself she'd struggled to find her G-spot. Even now, after a lot of practice, it sometimes took her a moment or two to get it right. But all of her female lovers without exception had found it straightaway.

How fair was that!

Well, okay, so it was fair. And there had to be a clinical explanation. Maybe her G-spot was capable of significant expansion. Maybe another girl's touch maximized it whilst her own did not.

And maybe she should be concentrating on the green-haired punk instead of happy memories.

Except how could she forget how good those boots felt, clasped tight around her, their heels digging deep into the small of her back!

As if on cue, Billie put her mouth to Angie's ear.

'You're the best,' she murmured, not whispering, keeping her tone low. 'I want to stay here forever, but I've got to go.'

Angie's heart lurched.

'Please don't,' she said softly.

'I'm sorry. I have to help set up stalls ready for Freshers' Week.'

'Screw Freshers' Week, screw me instead.'

'I can't, Angie. I can't let the side down.'

'Will you be setting up all day?'

'No. I agreed all morning, not all day. I'll see you in the Union at twelve, if you like.'

'I like,' said Angie. Then, tentatively: 'Any chance of an afternoon in bed?'

Charlie shook her head then laughed, slightly reluctantly. 'I suppose I could be persuaded to take you to my place. We could verbally express ourselves there, couldn't we?'

'Billie, I can't tell you how much I want to study your bedroom ceiling and verbally express myself.'

'You mean I'll finally get to go on top?'

'You'll get to do anything that takes your fancy. Are you up for it?'

'Go on then, twist my arm.'

*****

Billie must have left around nine o'clock. Slightly fatigued after two nights of enjoying herself, Angie dozed until well after eleven and then went to use the communal showers.

Somebody was moving in next door as she returned to her room; someone with three big, handsome helpers.

'Hey,' said the first helper she encountered. 'I'm Madhu's brother.

The guy was toting a portable TV and looked to be disappointed his hands weren't free so he couldn't offer her one to shake.

'I'm Angie,' Angie countered. 'Meetcha.'

'I'm Madhu's brother too,' an even better-looking guy said. He dumped an exceptionally large suitcase on the corridor floor and thrust out his hand.

'Meetcha,' said Angie, liking the way his fingers touched her wrist as they informally shook.

Not that she ever would, of course. It was just nice to be appreciated.

'Come on, come on,' a female voice cut in, 'we haven't got all day.'

The new speaker was a small, round woman in a sari. She had enormous charisma and Angie liked her on sight. Forget the brothers; mother was a bit of all right.

'I'm Madhu's mum,' the older woman said, her tone a prompt.

'I'm Madhu's next-door neighbour,' Angie replied. 'Leastways I assume I am. I'm right at the end of the corridor, in number 444.'

'That does make you her neighbour,' said the older woman. 'She's a little homesick, if you know what I mean.'

As an East Midlands girl Angie recognized the West Midlands accent.

'Trust me, duck,' she said, 'I'll help her settle in as much as I can.'

Madhu's mum hugged her impulsively.

Madhu's brothers watched on, enviously (or so Angie half-hoped).

'I'm Madhu,' a voice intruded, 'now living in 443.'

Angie looked into her neighbour's room and nearly died. Madhu was standing by the window, all long black hair and tearful, brimming brown eyes. What perfection! She made every last Bollywood actress look like a washed-out rag.

'I'm your new best friend,' Angie said, surprising herself by speaking in an even, controlled voice. 'We can look out for each other while we find our feet, right?'

'Right,' Madhu sniffled.

'No, really,' said Angie. 'I have somewhere to go just now, but I'll catch you later, yeah? We can chat, hang out or whatever.'

'Right,' said Madhu, a little more cheerfully.

Madhu's mum stopped Angie at the door to 444. 'God bless you,' she said, hugging her again.

Angie hugged back and wondered who she fancied most; mother or daughter.

*****

Joe was behind the bar as per usual. He pulled a pint of Marston's without being asked.

'Predictable, am I? Angie grinned at him.

'Not when it comes to infatuated barmen and baguettes. You could go for either onions or tomato with your Lancashire cheese.'

'I can't be having onion breath. Better make it cheese and tom.'

'Okay, tom it is,' he said, 'how about an infatuated barman as a side order?'

'That's in your dreams.'

'It is, very regularly. Want to hear about them?'

The juke box's latest offering was Sir Bob, not liking Mondays. Angie hummed along as she tore the cling film off of her lunch. Before she could have a bite Charlie arrived, seemingly alone.

'Sorry about the other day,' she began. 'I really did think I was a single woman for another week.'

'And I'm sorry I didn't ask all of the relevant questions.' Angie was peering around, seeing no sign of Ruby. 'So where is the little Rottweiler?'

'She's busy arranging a date with that new blonde from LGBT.'

'What?'

'She's a little tart with tits out here,' Charlie made appropriate (or inappropriate) gestures with both her hands. If her gestures were anything to go by, the "blonde" must have been endowed indeed.

'Is this some sort of punishment?' Angie demanded. 'Like you did it, so now so will she?'

'No, I've already had all my spankings and floggings. Believe it or not, she's just exercising her right to roam. That's how we normally operate.'

Angie pretended not to notice the barman rolling his eyes at that easy-to-hear statement.

'Are you saying she's got rights and you haven't?'

'No, we have the same rights. She just shifts the goalposts sometimes, without telling me.'

It was Angie's turn to roll her eyes. 'Did she really spank and flog you?'

'She spanked me. But I lied about the flogging. I'll show you my back to prove it, if you like.'

The never-ending background music changed. Now it was Elvis Costello again, advising everybody that Hong Kong was up for grabs . . . which, since the Chinese takeover July, it probably no longer was.

'I think Joe might object if you take off your top in here,' said Angie.

'I wasn't thinking about taking it off in here.' Charlie grinned. 'I was thinking about waiting until Ruby's away on her date and taking it off somewhere more private.'

Angie wasn't sure if she was allured or petrified. 'Are you trying to get me killed?'

'Naw, Ruby's a big softie at heart. All that snarling is just for show. And you're twice the size of her, so she'd never actually start a fight. Are you on for it, then?'

'By "it" I presume you mean another night of sin.'

'Yes, I sinfully do.'

'And what happens when Ruby finds out?'

'She won't.'

'But if she does?'

'Then I get another spanking. So what? I like being spanked.'

'Charlie, I'm not sure about this . . .'

'I am. And don't tell me you didn't have fun on Friday. I kept watching your face. You were into it just as much as I was.'

That was true.

'Oh okay, then,' Angie sighed, 'if you insist.'

Chapter Nine

An afternoon of sex with Billie stretched out quite considerably. In fact it took up a lot evening as well. Late on . . . perhaps as late as nine o'clock . . . Billie finally called quits.

'I surrender,' she gasped, 'you're too much for any woman.'

Angie grinned. 'So you don't want more?'

'Of course I do. Just not right now. Frigging hell babe, you're an animal.'

'I suppose I do have my moments.' For some reason Angie always struggled to smile but could grin okay. Just now her grin almost spilt off the top half of her head.

Billie raised a languid hand. 'You've exhausted me, darling. Yes, I want more, but not anytime soon.'

Angie could have gone again there and then, and not just once. But she knew all about inconvenient "recovery times".

'When next?' she asked.

The powder green punk looked up, into her eyes. 'I don't do relationships,' she said.

'In case you've forgotten, neither do I. I do like fucking hot and sexy girls, though. And you qualify hands-down as hot and sexy. So what's to stop us having the most open of open relationships?'

'Not a lot,' Billie conceded. 'Maybe we could get together once or twice a week for starters; then we can play it by ear.'

'And get together more often?'

'It depends, doesn't it? We can step it up, step it down or whatever takes our fancy.'

'Makes sense to me,' said Angie. 'Shall we kick off next Friday night in the Union?'

'Why not,' the punk chuckled. 'I will if you will.'

*****

Taking advantage of Billie's en suite bathroom Angie showered and, abandoning her soggy knickers, redressed herself in clothes that didn't reek too much of lady juice.

Or so she hoped.

Then, leaving Billie sated and as good as dead on her bed, she headed back to campus.

Drifting into the Union was as natural as shelling peas.

Assuming shelling peas was a natural thing to do.

Sunday night and the bar had to be as full as she'd ever seen it. Couples were huddling, most of them mixed sex but not all. Larger groups were laughing and singing along to the music.

For a moment Angie struggled to recognize it. Then she twigged. Sparks were insisting that this town wasn't big enough for the both of us.

Talk about a unique sound!

The high-pitched singing climaxed as she bought herself a beer. Then Phil Lynott was there, assuring her that there was whiskey in the jar-o.

Brilliant! Who needed the freaking Spice Girls!

After two pints she went for a pee. Charlie was waiting for her by the hand basins when she came out of the cubicle.

'You-know-who will be missing me,' Charlie said without preamble, 'so I can't loiter. But Wednesday is the day. Meet me here. In the bar, I mean, not in the bogs. Okay?'

Angie had all sorts of misgivings but nodded anyway. 'Does seven o'clock work for you?'

'I'll be there on the dot, wearing a white carnation.'

'And nothing else?'

Charlie hooted. 'Wait and see, babes. See you then. And don't stand me up.'

*****

Call her spiteful, but Angie enjoyed having Ruby stare daggers at her across the bar. Charlie could only have been in the ladies' two minutes but, apparently, that was long enough to fuel a Rottweiler's suspicions.

Of course coming back into the bar just a second or so after Charlie hadn't exactly poured oil on all of those troubled waters. Not that she'd done so deliberately.

Well, not much.

Snarling and filled with hatred or nor, Ruby was, Angie reckoned, quite sexy. Okay, she was short and slightly fat-assed, but not someone to kick out of bed.

In fact that slightly fat ass was very alluring.

And wouldn't the emotional baggage add to the fun?

Perhaps it would. That was one to think about later, in bed, with her hand between her legs.

*****

Deciding that a (relatively) early night was in order, Angie headed back to halls at last orders, forgoing a final beer. Somehow she resisted the urge to wave Ruby farewell. And surprise, surprise: Ruby sent a couple more daggers after her, both aimed at her spine.