Such a Sweet Surrender

Recently, little more than a month ago, Jane had insinuated that that "certain person" obviously had at least a passing interest in being more than just Viola's Union Bar drinking partner.

'You can see it in the way she looks at you; you can hear it in the way she says your name . . .'

'Never,' Viola had demurred.

'Never say never,' Jane countered, 'you lucky, lucky cow. Go for it girl. Go get it while you can.'

Despite her reputation, that "certain person" had never made any sort of a move on Viola. She'd been forever friendly, forever funny and had never mentioned sex in any way whatever.

Compared to Viola's usual suitors she'd been a paragon of virtue. Butter wouldn't melt, and all that.

And yet she was beyond compare . . . and that was coming second-hand from the girls. What the all the guys said about her was perhaps best left to the imagination.

She could snog, too. Her welcome at last night's party had been exceptionally warm. No, it had been infinitely hotter than hot. With no disrespect to Kris that ten-second-long snog with Hev had put all his bedtime efforts in the shade.

All snogging should be so rewarding!!

Viola was used to being in demand. Life had always been thus. She had always thought that her legs were too long but everyone else said she resembled a young Naomi Campbell, except with even finer bone structure. Hardly a day went by without some guy or other asking her out. Whenever there was a party in the offing she was literally spoilt for choice.

Miss Popularity or what!

But, sadly, the few who'd been favoured had fallen short, leaving her wondering . . .

Not that she was the type to dither indefinitely. Over the years she'd noticed girls eying her along with all the guys. She'd even had the occasional jokey suggestion from the gals on Lesbians' Corner. She had laughed them off, naturally. But she was a very strong woman who knew her own mind far better than anyone else. Bugger the past, now was time for action; now was the time for decision.

What was she to do about her sex life?

Muddle along as always, forever kissing frogs?

Go back upstairs, wake Kris and see if he could make her cum again?

Or should she . . .

Could she . . .

Too right she could!

Too right she would!!

Ditching her coffee, Viola reached for her bag and pulled out her phone. Then, refusing to entertain an urge to chicken, she fired off a text.

Chapter Four

By a (not particularly) amazing coincidence, Heather was also sitting in her kitchen right then. She hadn't bothered with coffee, though; not instant or ground. No, she was moodily swigging from a can of Boddingtons, her next-best favourite beer after Marston's and the incomparable Taylor's Landlord.

(Landlord being a draught and bottled tipple; canning it would be worse than sacrilege; it simply could not ever be allowed to happen by those master brewers from Keighley.)

Not that she usually drank in the early hours. She was only at a loss because Dwayne had hit the wall and abjectly wimped out. Two hours at the party plus a bit of overtime in her room had been too much for the poor little lamb.

Or maybe he was afraid he was due an appointment with one of her many strap-ons.

Anyway he was crashed in her bed, knocking out zeds. Which was a pity, really; he'd been doing very well . . . for a bloke.

Useless as most of them were!

The text was from a number Heather didn't immediately recognize. Popping a fresh can and thirstily slurping the froth, she opened the message and read.

"Hi Hev; I really enjoyed that kiss. What do I have to do to get more?"

Good grief, it was from Viola!

One brief hello kiss and one of the most beautiful girls in the world was now showing interest. Yes in her, total whore that she was!!

Yes, yes, yes!!

Breathe and exist, Heather thought, excited out of all proportion. That's all you have to do. Yes, yes and a thousand times yes!!

Punching the air, she found it difficult not to shout her exuberance out loud.

Yes, yes, yes!!

Then she remembered her softly, softly approach and smiled wryly. She didn't ordinarily pursue girls who professed to be straight. Okay, so supposedly straight girls sometimes made a move on her and she always obliged, but that was different, wasn't it? No, normally she left the heterosexual babes to their own devices.

Viola had been an exception, however. She radiated sexual allure in all directions without even trying to. Duly impressed by everything she saw, Heather had cultivated her as a friend; genuinely liking her more and more as they steadily grew closer, never once indicating her deepest, secret feelings.

Which was odd in a way, she had to admit. She'd been cultivating Katie almost as long but they talked about little but sex. There again, Katie was openly bi-curious. Her agreeing to come across had never really been in doubt.

Two in one weekend, Heather thought gleefully.

Then she chastised herself. Katie had agreed to Monday night, but that remained to be seen and, as for Viola . . .

Well, she wasn't going to risk their friendship in any way. This called for tact, diplomacy and the ability to back off if needed.

Her fingers uncharacteristically trembling, she composed a reply.

"You can have as many kisses as you like. Anytime you like. Just let me know."

The answer almost immediately bounced back.

"I'd say right now but it's early morning, isn't it? Let's just say sooner rather than later."

Even more excited, Heather punched the air again before sending back:

"R U 3 2 talk?"

"Yes" came the reply.

Abandoning the tentative petting, Heather dialled.

'Hi,' said the voice at the other end, sounding nervous.

'Hi,' Heather cut in, surprising herself by feeling even more anxious than Viola sounded, 'please tell me it's not the booze making you text me.'

'Of course it isn't,' said Viola, slightly indignantly.

'So you're totally sober and you want to kiss me.'

A lengthy silence ensued before a cautious: 'Yes.'

'Are you alone?'

'Yes I am; sort of.'

'Where's Kris?'

Yet another hesitation, eventually followed by: 'He's upstairs, snoring for England.'

'That sounds a lot like Dwayne. Not that I'm one to criticize. He lasted longer than most.'

'Me and Kris,' Viola began awkwardly, 'we're not an item, if you know what I mean.'

'Me and Dwayne aren't either,' said Heather. 'In fact I prefer kissing girls, if the truth be told.'

'So I heard on the grapevine.'

Heather's grin nearly split off the top of her head. How well was this going? And she hadn't turned on the charm yet.

Not that a charm offensive was necessarily the best way to proceed.

Easy girl, easy, she warned herself, then pressed on anyway.

'I'm not going to beat about the bush,' she said, 'I'm going to ask you out instead.'

'We go out a lot already.'

'No, we drink the Union dry together a lot already. This time I mean "out".'

Viola's intake of breath was audible. 'Do you mean like out on a date?'

'I mean like two friends who want to get to know each other better. And Vi,' she added seriously, 'I'll be on my best behaviour, I promise. The most I'll expect from you is another kiss . . . although I might drag it out a bit longer, this time.'

'Okay,' Viola replied, surprising Heather with her sureness, 'when and where?'

'How do you feel about tonight?'

'Do you mean tonight as in Saturday night?'

'I do. Shall we say in the Union at six?'

Cue an audible gasp.

'Isn't six o'clock a bit early?' Viola ventured, all of a sudden less confident.

'Not really. It gives us time to decide where to eat . . . if we're going to the cinema . . .'

'Where we're going to share that kiss,' Viola added, abruptly casting caution to the wind.

Heather laughed delightedly. 'Oh I decided that already,' she said. 'It's going to be my little surprise. Will you be there at six?'

Absolutely zero hesitation this time.

'All right then, Hev, it's a date.'

*****

Afterwards, in the ensuing weeks, months and years, Viola reckoned she had spent most of Saturday worrying but that simply wasn't true. After hanging up on Heather she filled her percolator with a blend of water and the finest Columbian then spent the next three hours swigging coffee and worrying.

Yes, three short hours, not a whole day.

And exactly how worried had she been in the first place?

Come to that, whatever had she been thinking! Being mildly curious was one thing but agreeing to a full-blown date with Heather was something else altogether. All said and done, Heather wasn't simply beyond compare, she was downright notorious. She might not have talked openly about her sex life but everyone else had, and often in graphic detail.

No, make that very graphic detail indeed.

According to girly gossip, Hev went at sex with great gusto and had a colossal and insatiable appetite. Not that anyone ever complained about any aspect of her lovemaking. The ones who admitted they'd had personal experience just shook their heads and laughed like lottery winners, as if they sincerely couldn't believe it had happened to them.

("It was like I splashed out on an extra pint and I'd won roll-over after roll-over", one of them had once said, mock-innocently, "and then she kept me rolling over all night.")

Words perhaps fitting to be etched on a tombstone!

I might as well start at the top, Viola concluded, four mugs of coffee into her little binge. I might as well change teams as if I mean it.

Convincing or what?

Well, hardly, but Viola never once let herself consider backing out. Okay, she allowed reservations as to how far she might go, but only vague ones, prompted by all those videos.

Kris turned up in her kitchen around eight thirty, washed but unshaven. If he'd expected a full English breakfast he'd have been disappointed. Declining a suggestion that they went to some student fair on campus, she'd told him she had a prior arrangement. Then, fobbing him off with a cup of Nescafe, an air-kiss and the vaguest agreement to do it all again sometime, she set about washing her bedsheets and making her bed.

And then, prone on the duvet, determined not to doze, she momentarily closed her eyes.

Next thing she knew it was four o'clock in the afternoon.

Still prone on her bed but wide awake, she let herself think more about Heather, wondering what sort of lesbian she was. Not being an expert on the subject, she assumed there were three kinds: butch or femme with kiki in-between. Assuming "kiki" wasn't something she'd read in the distant past. But just where should she put Hev on that scale?

To look at Heather was drop-dead gorgeous but not precisely feminine. Shapely as she was, she had visible muscles and was undoubtedly athletic. And she never seemed to bother with makeup, lippy or anything like that.

There again, there was nothing too mannish about her . . . unlike some of her many girlfriends.

Viola wished that she'd asked some of the gossips for more detailed info. It had occurred to her to be nosy before but she'd never quite dared, wanting to keep her curiosity to herself, so to speak. So now she had to guess at . . .

Kiki, she decided. She goes out with everyone from girly-girls to super-scary skinheads, doesn't she? I must have seen her about town with every colour and persuasion.

But should really I be judging Hev's books by their covers?

Thinking of herself as Heather's date made her smile. They'd look good together, that was beyond all doubt. They'd probably be fending off interested males tonight, right and left.

Until it's time for me to fend off the girl herself, her mind added, unprompted.

Gulp!

As if on cue Roger Daltrey yelled out in her head.

"I look pretty tall but my heels are high . . ."

Hev was pretty tall and she never did heels. She didn't need to. She was almost exactly as tall as Vi was . . .

Almost as tall and at least ten times as super-duper sexy.

"Substitute me for him," Roger continued, "substitute my coke for gin . . ."

Still unsure why Hev's tastes and preferences mattered so much, still unsure what she hoped to get out of their date, Viola showered and dressed reasonably smartly, sticking to her usual theme: short blue jeans which stopped a fraction below her knees (exposing her lovely brown calves) and a tight white T-shirt.

Passable anywhere, she concluded, examining herself in the mirror, Union Bar, pubs or clubs.

Recalling Friday's outfit she scrunched her brow in contemplation. Today's jeans were much lighter and her T had a deeper neck, so she couldn't be accused of being repetitive. Add on her abbreviated black leather jacket and she looked different altogether.

Make that different but still fuckable.

Not that she intended to get fucked.

Well, did she?

Chapter Five

The jukebox was playing Saturday Night at the Movies when Viola arrived in the Union Bar.

Hev's choice, she wondered, or pure co-incidence?

It was hard to say in a bar like that. The Union's juke didn't do Kylie or the Spice Girls. In fact it didn't do much after the early 1980s and the choice was, to say the least, eclectic.

At that time of day the bar was perhaps halfway full, caught between the afternoon drinkers and early night owls. Most of those present were in the usual student uniform: trainers, jeans or leggings, T-shirt or sweat. But not Heather . . .

Omigod, Viola thought, almost clapping a hand over her mouth, she's dressed up for me!

And it was true; normally a girl who typified student uniform, Hev had for once varied her routine.

How many times have I seen her out and about, always in the same clobber?

Dozens . . . if not hundreds!

But that was not the case tonight. No, the girl was wearing a skirt!

Okay, so it was denim, but it was short enough to showcase most of her beyond-compare legs. And her blouse only added to the effect: gypsy-style and white with a V that ought to be censored.

Or maybe not; maybe all V-necked blouses should plunge as daringly as that.

And omigod again, she's dressed up like a girl! For me!! She's dressed up like a girl for me!!

As if sensing Viola's presence Heather turned from the bar, greeting her with the world's widest smile.

'Hi,' she gushed, 'I'm so glad you made it.'

The one thing detracting from Hev's girly outfit was the pint of beer in her left hand. But Viola scarcely noticed it because she was being closed in upon . . . and being kissed.

Tonight Hev seemed to be much more reserved. She only went lip-to-lip for a couple of seconds. Not to be sold short, Viola grabbed her as she withdrew, kissing her again, infinitely harder.

'Go on my girl,' a raucous female voice cried from off to their left, 'give her some!'

'Put her down,' another female called from a similar direction, 'you don't know where she's been.'

'Bet I do,' a third voice added, knowingly.

The chorus of witchy laughter drowned The Drifters right out. Not that minor considerations could stop Viola. Making sure she got at least double last night's snogging time, she gripped Hev's shoulders as she kissed and kissed.

'Happy to see you too,' Heather said finally, playfully pushing her away. 'What's your poison?'

By then Viola was utterly lost as far as roles were concerned. Skirt aside, Hev had a trace of shadow about her amazing green eyes. She also wore a hint of the palest pink lipstick and smelt like orchards full of ripe apples.

No girl had ever looked so alluring.

In response to just everything Viola's knees had lost it. Come to that, all of her body below her waist had lost it. If she'd been in bed with a guy she'd have simply opened her legs and said "Please".

The temptation to do just that right now was massive.

There again, easy-going as it was, it was still early evening in the Union Bar. And, few as they were, the management in here did have some expectations of decency.

'I'll have the same as you,' her mouth said, exhibiting considerably more sense than her brain at that moment in time.

'Stay right there,' said Hev, grinning at her before draining her glass and heading bar-wards.

Viola took opportunity to look around. The bar may have been merely half-full but Lesbians' Corner was packed, as per always. The occupants were all looking at her, too, for some reason.

'Way to go,' a plump, blue-and-purple-haired girl said, grinning even more widely than Hev.

'And welcome aboard,' a skinny, utterly stunning blonde added. 'There's always room for new blood.'

'Particularly with an ass like that,' someone else tartly observed, triggering a fresh chorus of sniggers.

Viola had only ever once sat on Lesbian's Corner and that had been long ago, before she knew what it actually was. Back then she'd been shocked when some fearsome skinhead made a bid to chat her up. Right now, looking at the crowd of girls there, she felt a sudden sense of sisterhood.

Well, maybe she was exaggerating in that skinhead's absence (the subtly sexy girl had graduated and gone a year ago), but she certainly didn't feel revulsion of any shape or form.

'Wish me luck,' she said to the blue-and-purple-haired girl.

Then, before the renewed witchy laughter died down, Hev was back bearing two fresh Marston's.

'Forgive the delay,' she began, 'but you're looking good.'

Viola chuckled. Hev was one of the few who could look good in just anything between a bin-liner and a ball gown. It had been said that she, Viola, had similar good fortune, but she tended to doubt it.

She looked okay but Hev was no less than astounding.

Nervous as she was, she thanked the stars she was out with a dish like this.

And who wouldn't?

'So,' she ventured, 'the night is young. What have you got planned?'

'Rats,' Hev replied, 'here comes Katie.'

She wasn't wrong. Last night's party hostess was bearing down on them from the direction of the pool table. And she didn't look happy.

Frankly, in Viola's opinion, she looked like war. Spanish Armadas had looked less threatening.

'Great do,' Hev said in greeting, 'everyone's still talking about it.'

'I thought we had a date,' Katie snapped.

Heather hardly flinched. 'We do,' she replied smoothly, 'on Monday. I'll be there on the dot, wearing a white carnation.'

Katie glared at Heather a while before transferring her attention to Viola.

'Sounds good to me,' Viola said limply, 'I hope you have a good time.'

Katie shook her head before stomping back to her game of pool. She had, Viola noticed, five stripes left compared to her opponent's two spots; perhaps that was why she was so touchy.

Not!!

Chapter Six

Leaving the Union shortly before seven the two girls enjoyed a drink or ten about town. They enjoyed a few more kisses as well. That was more thanks to Viola than Heather. Somewhere in the deepest of recesses of her mind she'd supposed one more kiss might cure her curiosity.

But that was a false premise. Every kiss was just a little hotter than the one before. Every kiss made her want more . . . and more and more.

Every kiss only made her curiouser and curiouser.

And she still didn't know exactly what Heather was playing at. Big reputation or not, she hadn't put as much as a finger out of place all night. In fact she'd been the very model of strict decorum. Those few kisses had all happened at Viola's instigation. And . . . very sadly . . . there'd been no groping at all.

Viola had attempted to talk about sex but Heather hadn't bitten. That is to say she'd obliged as far as chitchat about guys was concerned, but changed the subject whenever girls were mentioned.

Five pubs and a ton of chat down the line, fresh out of Ye Olde John of Gaunt, comfortable in Gandhi's Revenge, their starters and mains safely ordered, Viola stared the world's (supposedly) most rampant lezzie squarely in the eye.