The Column

My name is Molly, I'm a journalist, and I write for a small, London based magazine. I pull a fair amount from my work, but it is not exactly what you might call satisfying. Still, it keeps me in a spacious apartment in central London and stylish clothes, so I can't really complain.

I'm 22, by the way, a Scorpio, and have what I've been told is a sexy figure, and long raven black hair, which flows down my back to my oft complimented ass. You'd think, with a body like mine and a career which requires a degree of confidence that I'd have no trouble at all getting laid, but I'll let you in on a little secret, up until the events of this story was a virgin. Yep, a 22 year old virgin, its not that I haven't had offers, I've just never taken them up, to be honest, looking at a man's penis (on the net, hey, I'm only human) frankly, amuses me, and the thought of putting one inside me scares me more than a little.

Although, to tell the truth the closest I'd ever got to getting laid was in college, with my roomy, a sweet girl, openly gay. She frenched me after a night on the booze, and she had her hands under my shirt, undoing by bra, when the fire alarm went off. It was a false alarm, but she didn't start again when we got back upstairs and I couldn't bring myself to tell her I wanted her to.

I was lying in bed thinking of that night, as I do most mornings, with my hand between my legs, recovering from a powerful orgasm, when, as I readjusted the duvet to cover my naked, silky smooth and devilishly long legs that I noticed the time. 10:00. Bugger, I was supposed to be at work an hour ago.

I stood up, swore, wiped my hand (still wet from my juices), on my stomach pulled on a pair of pink, silky French knickers from my 'clean' draw, swore again as I realised I hadn't detached the matching bra (believe me, that is about the only thing I keep organised). Once I'd slipped the bra on I sprayed my self all over with some deodorant after slashing my face with some water in the bathroom, jumped into a pair of jeans and pulled on a pink, of-the-shoulder top. Thankfully my hair was in need of little attention, so I just applied some of my favourite shade of lipstick and hopped in the pair of red cowboy boots I've been wearing for the last few years.

I looked myself over once in the mirror and realised, one doesn't typically wear a bra with an off-the-shoulder top. But it was 10:30 now, so I didn't really have chance to change again, still it didn't look that bad. I felt something digging into my lower back and remembered that these particular knickers had a large pink silk bow attached to the back, so I'd have no choice but to pull that out over the top of my jeans. I looked at my self in the mirror again, gave my self a half twirl, and, to my good fortune, the bow did actually look kind of, well, cute.

10:35, time to go, really. I dashed past Steve, the guy I rented the other room of the apartment to, and grabbed part of his breakfast.

'Sorry, I didn't wake you; just I didn't want to disturb you'

'You heard?!' I thought he meant he heard me getting off earlier.

'No, you just seemed tired last night'

'Oh! Err, yeah thanks man' I breathed a sigh of relief and put what was left of Steve's toast back on his plate. 'I got to run'

'See you later? I don't think you're supposed to wear a bra with that kind of top…'

'Yeah, I know, see you later' Steve was also a writer, but more of a novelist than a journalist. He had great plans to write a book, but was making little progress, as he used it largely as a pick up line.

I grabbed my purse and practically sprinted the mile to my magazine's office. It was situated in a large office building, occupied by a number of law firms, bankers and god knows what else. I was one of the only women in the lift up, surrounded by balding men in grey suits. I was glad to reach my own floor. I slinked in as inconspicuously as possible, ducking behind the receptionist's desk to avoid the editor's view from his office. The receptionist, a buxom blonde of about 18 leaned over. I held my finger to my lips. She nodded in comprehension. The editor turned back to his computer and I made a dash for my desk. I logged in and tried to make it look like I'd been there all day, but my hands stopped moving as my mind drifted back to the view I'd had of the bra-less receptionist, who had a generous number of blouse buttons undone.

'I said the boss man's looking for you.' I shook my head and realised Clea, who shares a cubicle with me, was talking. She too wrote for the magazine, and, I've told her this a thousand times, was far too good for it. She too had raven black hair, but wore hers in a shoulder length pony tail. Her breasts were slightly smaller than mine, about a mouthful, or so I imagined. Whereas my own were a generous C-cup.

'The editor,' Clea stroked my shoulder 'is looking for you'

'Shit, what for?' I had goose pimples from her touch on my pale shoulder.

'Don't know, maybe you got that feature you were after' It can't have been that, if he was going to give a feature to anyone it would be her. Still I nodded and smiled. 'Well, you better get up there'.

'Yeah, I guess so…' I stood up and nervously smoothed out my top.

'You know, Molly, I don't think you're supposed to wear a bra with that kind of top.' I laughed

'You're the second person to tell me that, and yeah, I know.'

'Well, good luck and don't get your ass fired' the thought hadn't crossed my mind, but I had been late quite a lot lately.

'Thanks, Clea' I walked over to the boss's office, the blinds were drawn so I'd have to go through his secretary. She was a middle aged woman, although still surprisingly attractive (I'm a virgin, not dead). She was on the phone when I got there, and accidentally knocked something off her desk. She gestured for me to pick it up. I bent at the waist and looked under the desk found what I was looking for and picked it up. I could feel her eyes burning in to my ass.

'He'll see you now, darling' the secretary said in her smoky voice.

'Err, thanks' I wanted to say 'enjoy the view?', but something stopped me. I nervously walked in to the editor's office, stopped in the doorway, her gestures for me to sit down. I obeyed.

'Molly. Molly, Molly, Molly' He seemed to have forgotten what he called me here for. He tapped a few buttons on his computer. 'Ah! Molly! No, that's someone else'

'Look, if you're going to fire me, just do it, please'

'Fire you, God no! I was just messing with you.' Bastard 'How would you like a two page feature next month, on top of your normal column?' I normally just covered the new films, two pages was a hell of an improvement.

'Err, yes, actually, I was thinking about writing something about the degradation of the original idea, if I could do a feature on that…'

'No, sorry, I meant do a feature on what I tell you to.'

'Oh, Ok, yeah, I'll do it.'

'You don't know what it is yet'

'Well, what do you want?'

'I'd like you to write two pages on the lesbian reaction to the 'Lesbian and Gay Film festival', at the NFT. You see, I've got Dave covering the Gay side, Clea's too busy with the films themselves, which leaves just you and Mike, so you seemed like the obvious choice' I was going to suggest Clea, she was openly gay, and would probably have a much easier time finding people to interview, but that was out of the window. 'I don't want like a pandemic opinion piece, I want a personal touch, just one woman's viewpoint. And not Clea's, she'll no doubt cover that in her column

'So… you want me to find a lesbian and get her opinion on the Lesbian and Gay Film festival,' this didn't sound too hard.

'That's about the gist of it, yeah'

'Ok, yeah. I'll do it.' We settled on a bonus on top of my normal pay for writing the article and I left the office, heading back to my own desk. Clea watched my approach, gauging my mood.

'So, how did it go?'

'I got two pages!'

'That's fantastic; we'll have to celebrate over lunch.' We both got on with some work for the next hour or so, typing up some notes I'd made on the film I'd been sent to review the previous night, I'd been rather drunk, so didn't remember too much of the actual film, so deciphering the notes was all I really had to go on.

Lunch soon snuck up on me and Clea and I left for a small restaurant a fair walk from the office. We had been to the place a couple of times before, it was a very intimate setting and, although it was around lunchtime, the place was sparsely populated; only Clea and myself, and two other couples occupied the restaurant.

We were seated immediately by a cute, Italian looking waitress, who took Clea's order of a bottle of red and left us to the menus.

'So, Molly's got two pages, eh?' She lightly kicked me under the table and smiled.

'Yep, two pages, although I think you'd have been better for the job….'

'Nah, he's a good guy that editor, he chose you for a reason' I smiled a nodded in reply. Our wine arrived and Clea ordered for us both in Italian.

'You don't mind do you?'

'No, you go ahead, I'm lost.' I spoke fluent French, but the menus were in Italian.

'So' Clea said through a mouthful of wine 'what's he got you writing about?' I briefly described the outline of the article to her. 'Sounds like fun, but you can't use me, eh?' I nodded. 'Who do you plan on using?'

'I'm not entirely sure, I was hoping you could help me there…'

'Of course, I was beginning to think you'd never ask!' I was pleased she agreed, I don't think I could have worked up the guts to ask someone on my own. Our food arrived and we carried on talking, just casual conversation. Clea asked me one of her staple questions. 'So… are you still a virgin?'

'Yeah, yeah I am' I blushed red.

'It's nothing to be ashamed of babe; you're just waiting for the right person, aren't you?'

'I suppose so, although, I don't really want to be, you know…'

'Molly, don't be such a prude, you don't want to take some guy's todger in your delicate, little pussy, I know the feeling' I blushed bright red, but I kind of hoped she would continue, just to get me to admit to her that I was a lesbian. Still, I was thankful she had stopped.

We finished our meal and got up to go to the till and pay for our food. I was a little tipsy, having skipped breakfast and had a couple of bottles of wine on a fairly empty stomach. Clea paid and we both turned to leave. Much to my surprise, when I turned around and started walking I went straight into someone coming the other way. We both hit the floor and the contents of her bag, which she had been looking into when I collided with her, spilled all over the floor.

'Oh god, I'm so sorry' I apologised profusely helping her put all of her stuff away. Our hands met on an errant lipstick and I looked her in the eyes, her face inches from my own. She was beautiful. Her eyes were a deep brown I found myself lost in, her hair was a dark brunette, with blonde highlights that accentuated her beauty. She wore a small black dress, concealing a fine figure, but I noticed, as our hands remained in contact and our eyes held, that her eyeliner was slightly smeared, as if she had been crying. I tried to look sympathetic and she looked away. I handed her the lipstick, the last of her belongings.

'Thank you,' she whispered to me as I regained eye contact. I remained on the floor as she left the restaurant; I watched her ass as she strode out, clearly embarrassed by her fall.

Clea took my hand and helped me up, 'Are you alright Molly?'

'Yeah, I'm…I'm fine' I noticed she had left something behind; a pink matchbook from a bar called 'Clit', which Clea had told me (and despite its name) was a trendy lesbian joint not far away. I held the matchbook in my hand and thought to myself, 'She's the one'. I stared at the door she had just passed through. Clea looked at me and smiled.

'I know that look, Molly. Are you in love?' I snapped out of my trance, looked Clea in the eye and nodded. Clea moved in front of me a gestured to my hand, 'we'll go there tonight, we need to find someone for that article anyway, that's probably the best place to go and she might be there.'

'Yeah, that's a good idea,' I still held the matchbook tight.

'Come on, we need to get back to the office.' I slipped the matchbook into my bag and we headed back to our office. The rest of the day could not pass quickly enough. I began to think about the restaurant, about tonight, did my mystery lady feel the connection, I did? Was I ready to let someone be that close to me? I knew I certainly wanted to. I just hoped she did too.

Clea and I decided the best thing to do would be for us to go back to my apartment and for both of us to get ready there. She told me that if she helped me get ready there was no way 'mystery girl' would be able to resist me.

We arrived back at my apartment to the sound of Led Zeppelin and upon opening the door, the rather strong smell of Steve's cooking. He was stood over a large pot of curry, a joint hanging from his mouth, dancing very badly to the music. I shut the door and he turned his head.

'I'm making curry!' he burst out laughing.

I leaned into Clea, to speak over the music. 'Do you want to eat first?'

'Sure, I love curry…'we sat down in what served as a lounge; the kitchen was essentially part of the same room. Steve came over and sat down with us.

'It'll be ready in, like,' long pause, 'half an hour'. He sparked up another joint, took to puffs and passed it to me. This was a fairly regular activity for us. It was good shit to, Steve had apparently excellent suppliers, but I never asked any questions. I passed to Clea; she had been in on many of sessions.

'So, Steve, how's the book coming along?' Clea asked. He laughed, causing me to laugh.

'Well, these things take time,' he took a hit, 'you can't just churn them out like magazine articles, you see.'

'He hasn't written anything since 'The Hangman's Daughter'', I whispered to Clea, although, to be fair, it was an excellent book, but, it was a couple of years ago now (Steve was my elder by about six years).

'Yeah, but I'm still making money from it.' We all laughed. The curry was ready, so we all ate, Steve offered Clea and I some Indian beers, which we gladly accepted when we tasted the curry.

Still, it was soon finished and Clea and I went to my bed room to get ready for that night.

'Sit right there,' Clea ordered, gesturing to my bed. 'I'll choose everything for tonight' I was all too happy to oblige, I did most of my clothes shopping with Clea anyway, and she seem to have an inbuilt sense of what looks good. She picked up a hair brush and climbed on the bed, kneeling behind me as she brushed out my silky black hair. Once she was satisfied with that she stood up again and told me to remove my top. I did as I was ordered and she picked out a number of tops, all of which I thought would do, but Clea did not seem satisfied. Eventually she settled on one, a leaf print camisole, which would go with the bra I was already wearing. I was thankful she had settled on something, as I was actually quite cold and my nipples and stiffened under the bra. I slipped the top on and Clea told me to remove the jeans. I was reluctant, insisting that the jeans would do, so she pulled me up by my hand, knelt down in front of me, undid the jeans and pulled them down.

'Wow,' she seemed impressed, 'These knickers are really very sexy' smiled down at her as she pushed me down on to the bed, pulling the jeans off my feet. 'And that bow is so cute, where did you get them?'

'You gave them to me, silly girl.'

'Oh yeah, I remember now,' She looked down at them again, 'wish I'd kept them, Ok, I know what'll go perfectly with that.' She picked out a burgundy ruched skirt and a pair of pink lacy hold ups. I slipped them on and had to admit, I looked pretty sexy as I checked myself out in the mirror.

Next Clea sat me down in front of the mirror and set about fixing my make up. More of my pink lipstick was applied and a little blush, I never needed much mascara, as my lashes are naturally quite long. When she had finished I slipped my cowboy boots back on and was ready to go. Clea wasn't, however.

'Can I borrow some of your clothes?' She asked with those puppy dog eyes.

'Sure, take your pick.' I could hardly refuse; she'd made me look so sexy. I watched as Clea got herself ready, she stripped herself off completely and stood by my wardrobe.

'You don't mind if I go commando in your fatigues do you, I just really feel the urge tonight.'

'Err, no.' I really didn't. She picked out a loose dress and slipped it down over her naked figure, I couldn't help but steal a glance, after all, with any luck I'd be getting a lot closer to someone tonight. But she was so sexy. She slipped on a pair of sexy heels and we were ready to leave.

'Ok, are you ready?' Clea asked me 'you know, we don't have to do this tonight,'

'We really do, I don't know how much longer I can last on my own' I didn't just mean sex, I needed someone to love me, and I really felt that girl was the one.

We headed out of my apartment, passing Steve, sitting at the computer, a blank word document in front of him, a bottle in one hand, a joint in the other. He grunted a goodbye and we left, in to the surprisingly cold night, for the club. I was glad to see there was no queue outside the club, only a flashing, pink neon sign, showing the word 'Clit' in a stylised font. We walked in, past the large bouncer, who nodded to Clea, and into the bar, which was not at all like I expected it. The bar was low lit, smoky and consisted largely of comfortable looking canvas and bamboo sofas around tables and a long, varnished oak bar. Clea and I sat down on one of the sofas, a waitress came over, and we were soon drinking.

'Have you seen her yet?' Clea asked me, discreetly.

'No, have you?'

'Sorry, I didn't get a very good look at her in the restaurant'

'Wait, there she is!' She was on her own, sitting on a stool at a higher table, at the back of the room.

'Well, what are you waiting for, go over there…'

'Oh god, I can't, what if she doesn't like me?'

'What if she does? Go over to her!'

'Well, will you be alright here?'

'Don't worry about me, go'

'Oh, Ok,' I stood up, smoothed out my skirt and moved over to where she was sitting. I slipped in to a seat across the table from her. 'Hi, is this seat taken?'

'No, no, go ahead' She looked me in the eyes, smiled and brushed her some of her hair out of her eyes, 'Do I know you?' Her voice was soft and feminine, a delight to hear.

'We bumped in to each other at lunchtime'

'Of course!' she laughed 'I never forget a face, and I would have a hard time forgetting one as beautiful as yours' She tilted her head and smiled at me, I smiled back. 'I'm Audrey, by the way, but every one calls me Audie' I stared into her eyes again as she spoke. I realised a rather long time had past since she had stopped.

'Molly! My name is Molly' I blurted out, 'everyone calls me err, just Molly'

'Molly, that's cute, not short for anything?'

'No, it's just Molly.' We drank the night away, finding we had a lot in common and really enjoyed each other's company. The bell was rung for last orders all too soon. We carried on talking as she walked me back to my apartment. This too was over all too quickly and we were standing face to face in the foyer of my building.

'Thanks for a lovely evening, just Molly,' she was sincere, we had both enjoyed ourselves.

'I should be thanking you, you paid for the drinks,' she laughed.

'This is true, but anyone who is in your company should be thankful.' I looked down at the floor.

'That's just about the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.' When I looked back up again she had taken a step closer to me.