The Three Graces

© DAR 2000/2006 All rights reserved. Not to be reproduced in any form without prior written permission from the author.

I can't actually remember what started the row. David was being pushy about something I expect. I mean, he was always being pushy, and it pissed me off because I didn't need all that. Looking back I didn't love him, I can't have done, or it wouldn't have been over so completely and so fast. But at the time I thought I did.

It was lust, I suppose. I mean, once he stopped messing me about and got to it I thought he was pretty good. He was certainly hung well, and a girl needs to feel something going on down there, you know? And I thought that meant someone, well, big.

So anyway, we were at the flat, and we started this row. I said something awful - don't know what it was, can't remember a word, but I can still remember the look on his face. Horror. Disgust. Hatred, or a fair approximation of it anyway.

He hit me. Hard, with the flat of his hand on the side of my face, sent me spinning. I was up in no time, started screaming at him and going for him, clawing at his face, drawing blood, I think, because my fingernails are quite long, and yelling like a banshee.

He was out of the flat and down the stairs like the devils of hell were after him. I suppose one of them was, happening to be disguised as me. I slammed the outside door shut behind him, and he went to his car, looked back, and saw me still inside the door. He came back then, and tried to talk to me. There was some blood on his face. There was this big red mark under his eye, too, and I thought "Bastard, serves you right."

I went back up to my flat, which was how I discovered the problem. The door had swung shut behind me, so it had locked. I hadn't taken the key from the hook on the burglar alarm control box; I'd been a bit distracted what with screaming at David and trying to catch up with him so I could claw his other eye and stuff.

I was locked out of my own flat, and David was downstairs outside the front door bleeding, and my face hurt. I stayed in the little lobby on our landing for a while, wishing one of the other residents was in so I could maybe phone somebody to get a key. But one of the flats was empty and Mary who lived on the ground floor was at the hospital working.

Tessa and David, who lived opposite me, were on honeymoon, though why David had married Tessa when she spent several hours a week screaming abuse at him and telling him how pathetic he was I could never understand. Perhaps he liked it.

Jimmy, on the top floor, I hadn't seen for days, so he must be away again, and the two new girls in the flat above me had gone out for the evening. I'd seen them leave when David arrived, so they wouldn't be back for a while.

David seemed to have gone, at least he'd stopped banging on the door downstairs, so I slipped out of the lobby and sat down on the stairs - the ones going up, where he couldn't see me if he came back - and I had a bit of a cry, which I needed.

The bastard. Three months of going out, and putting up with him pushing me into doing this and that and the other - mostly the other, though I didn't need much pushing for that of course. Three months, and then the bastard has to hit me. Well, that's it. Nobody gets the chance to hit me twice. Bastard.

I was crying again when they found me, the girls from the top floor flat. I felt a complete prawn, with my make-up streaked, my hair all over the place, bawling like a five-year-old who'd lost her dolly and my cheek still red from where bloody David had hit me.

But they were really cool, like it was normal after you'd been out for a drink to find a girl you hardly knew weeping on the stairs. So they helped me up, and I sobbed something about being locked out. I was still crying when they took me up to their flat.

The big dark-haired girl, Megan, said she'd put on the kettle for some tea. The smaller blonde one, Becky, said "Don't be daft, she needs something stronger than that."

So we went in the bathroom where I had a wash and sorted myself out a bit while Megan opened a bottle of something cold. I could still see the mark on my face. So could Becky.

"Look, what's this about? You haven't been crying because you got locked out - and that mark?"

So I told her, and that started me crying again, and she put her arms round me and held me close, and that felt better. Once I stopped crying she took me into the front room. I drank the glass of wine Megan handed me in one gulp. I couldn't have told you if it was Chardonnay, shandy or shampoo.

Becky explained why I needed a drink while Megan poured me another one, and Megan called David something very unpleasant, and sat me down on the sofa with her, and we talked.

I felt better after a while. The wine helped, of course, but it was all so calm and unthreatening. The flat was rented, they told me after a bit, but it was nice. The walls were cream, and the carpet a sort of pinky colour, and the furniture matched the carpet. That sounds very girly, I know, but it wasn't.

Thinking back, the only way you could tell the place was rented was the pictures; they were so varied you knew nobody had really chosen them, they'd just been hung there to fill up the walls.

After a bit the conversation got back to this evening, and Megan said something nasty about men. I started to say David wasn't like that before I remembered that actually he was, and I started crying again. Megan was really upset, and kept apologising, and I was sobbing that it was OK, but of course it wasn't.

So she held me close, and she was all warm and gentle, and I could feel the softness of her breasts against my arm, and I relaxed, and stopped crying. Then she looked at me, holding me at arms length, and really looking at me, you know?

"You need a shower," she said, "You'll feel a lot better." So she led me down the little hall to their bathroom, where they had a shower mounted over the bath. "You get undressed," she said over her shoulder, taking the shower head out of its holder, "And I'll sort this out."

So I did, while she turned the shower on and adjusted the temperature. I was in my bra and briefs waiting for her to finish when she looked over her shoulder and said "Oh, not ready yet?" and I realised she wasn't going to go, so I went a bit pink and took my underwear off as well, while she put the shower head in the holder again and pulled the curtain across to stop water going all over the carpet.

When she turned round she had a shower cap for me, and put it on me. It was really nice the way she did it, standing close, stroking my hair up off my neck under the cap, and those dark eyes focussed totally on mine. I couldn't look anywhere else, couldn't be embarrassed about standing in front of her stark naked, couldn't worry about the way her big breasts, soft under the thin wool of her jumper, pressed against mine for a moment as she moved forward and tucked the last few strands of hair away.

"OK, now, in the shower with you," she smiled, and it was like being a little girl again, almost. She helped me into the bath, holding my hand with one of hers, the other gently in the small of my back.. It was sweet ... loving, almost.

A couple of moments later, as I stood with my back to the stream of warm water, soaping my front, and beginning to relax properly for the first time, there was a little cough and Megan poked her head round the curtain.

"Sorry," she said, looking at me with a curious intensity, "I thought you might want this." She handed me a sponge, as her eyes flicked up and down my body almost, I thought, checking me out. "He's mad, of course." She was smiling now.

"Who is?"

"That boyfriend of yours. Taking a chance on losing you. I mean, you have a simply gorgeous body. He's mad." I blushed in more places than I had thought possible as she vanished again.

When I'd finished, I turned the shower off and pulled back the curtain. To my surprise she was still there, standing quietly, holding out a huge pink bath towel for me to step into.

So I stepped into it. Was it my imagination, or did she check me out again? No, I didn't imagine it, and I was rather flattered to see her taking so much notice. "She must think I'm potential competition," I thought. And as Megan was a beauty, with her large dark eyes, pale soft skin, softly waved black hair and lush curves, I was flattered. I was also much less embarrassed at being naked in front of her.

She wrapped the towel round me, squeezed my shoulders and, to my surprise, kissed me on the forehead. It was the kind of kiss I used to get from my brother's rugby playing friends, and when they did it, it meant "I do fancy you, but you're my friend's baby sister so I'm not going to do anything about it. Not now, anyway." Odd. Megan being a girl, she obviously didn't mean "I fancy you but I'm not going to do anything about it". What was I thinking of?

She lifted off my shower cap and went out.

As I finished drying myself she came back, and by now I was so relaxed, what with the shower and the wine and the casual atmosphere, that I didn't cover myself at all.

"I've brought you this," she smiled, and held up a long, thick towelling bathrobe. I slipped it on.

"Let me dry your hair," she said, and for the next few minutes I sat on the edge of the bath while she combed it, and ran the hair dryer up and down, and I felt pampered. Her hands felt cool on my neck when she lifted my hair for the dryer, softer than I expected, firmly decisive, like she knew what she was doing.

Which she did, I found out later.

Back in the sitting room Becky looked smaller and blonder somehow, as she poured us some more wine. Her eyes hesitated for a fraction on my front. I realised I hadn't pulled the robe across me as well as I should have, and adjusted things. The eyes moved deliberately to Megan. I totally failed to read the significance of this, putting down Megan's pink cheeks to the warmth of the small bathroom, to the steam from the shower.

I sat sipping my wine, cool and creamy and self-indulgent as it was, not like the thin stuff I bought in the supermarket, and thought how nice this was, how the evening had turned out nice after all. Megan leant across me to grab the bottle. "She's drinking faster than before," I thought, with the lack of curiosity of the truly innocent.

The sofa, like the flat, was a small one, and Megan's thigh moving to press against mine was curiously comforting. Becky smiled her quiet smile, looked hard at Megan, and said coolly how glad she was to see her taking good care of me. I should have thought that odd, too, I suppose.

But I just sipped some more Chardonnay - I'd calmed down enough now that I could tell that was what it was, mostly from it being written on the label - and took my first good look at her. She was pretty, no question. A little shorter than me, slim, her dusky blonde hair as short as Megan's dark hair was long. "Is she a natural blonde?" I thought, the question just arriving in my head out of nowhere.

I found myself looking at her breasts, small, soft and liquid as she moved, realising there was no bra under the silk blouse. Had her nipples showed like that before? Surely not. Yet it was warm in here - well, I felt warm, anyway.

Fortunately I had torn my eyes away when she looked back at me to ask me something about the clubs I went to. I answered without thinking because I had realised from the way that her eyes went to my legs that I was being altogether too careless with my robe, and was showing a lot more than I intended.

"I'm pissed," I thought, uncaring, not bothering to pull the robe down my leg. "Not very pissed, not 'this is a problem' pissed, but nicely, comfortably, relax and enjoy it pissed."

She got up, and walked over to the door, slim, deliciously curved hips undulating prettily in the tight trousers, as I noted the absence of a panty line and wondered what that meant. Wondered, too, at myself thinking about such things. The drink, I concluded, had much to answer for.

"I'll get us a coffee when I've made up your bed." She was smiling at me as I tore my eyes from her luscious bottom, thinking to my surprise that I suddenly knew why men looked so hard at such things.

"What? Oh no, I couldn't turn you out of your room - I'll sleep on the sofa."

"Oh. Oh my." She looked suddenly stunned, silenced, dumbstruck. I couldn't think why, and looked at Megan, who also looked amazed, but had not lost the power of speech.

"Ah, I see." She looked worried, but in control. Just. "You don't have to sleep on the sofa - you won't be taking Becky's bed. Or mine come to that. The second bedroom is our guest room, you see. We sleep in the big one. Ummm. Together."

"You didn't realise, then?" Becky was joining in again, flushed but functioning. "You hadn't worked out that we're a couple - lesbians, that is. Oh damn."

I said nothing, remembering how Megan had looked at me naked, how she had checked me out, how Becky had been looking at me just now. I remembered the feel of Megan's soft breasts against my own, her firm, knowing hands. I understood the kiss at last, and wondered if "Not now" lasted as long from her as it had from my brother's mates, none of whom had ever tried to bed me.

"I'll make the coffee," Becky muttered, and shot out.

"Shan't be a moment - got to pee - embarrassment, I suppose." Megan hurried after her, pink, blushing beautifully.

I finished my wine, and thought a lot.

We drank the coffee, and gradually the tension subsided. We chatted about how they'd met, how long they'd been together - a couple of years, apparently - and compared experiences. They'd met a bit like David and I had; mutual friends, that sort of thing. But where David and I had been sleeping together almost from day one - well, second date, to be honest, which was a mistake, because it made him think he owned me - they'd taken a week or so to be sure.

"Was it good?" I said before I had thought about what I was saying.

"Oh," said Megan, looking at her shoes.

"Absolutely mind-bendingly wonderful," said Becky with a smile. "She is just the best lover I've ever ... well, she's just the best, that's all."

"Oh Becky, you mustn't ..." Megan was very embarrassed.

"Well you are, so there." Becky got up, walked over to Megan, and sat in her lap, putting her arms round her neck, kissing her very softly full on the lips.

It was suddenly very quiet. I could hear a bus passing 200 yards away on the main road, in spite of the double glazing. It was just the softest, most loving kiss I'd seen in months. It was like a big close-up in the cinema; I could see every detail. Their lips relaxed, their mouths partly open, Megan's teeth grazing Becky's bottom lip, pulling at it.

I mean, they just kissed, that was all, but it was like Becky was giving herself to Megan right there in front of me, and Megan was taking her, possessing her. And it was only a kiss.

"Wow!" I thought. "Wow."

"I'm sorry." Becky had turned towards me, her hand still on the back of Megan's neck. "I'm sorry, I hope we don't embarrass you, it's just ... well, I fancy her so much." Megan didn't know where to look, she was bright pink. But I noticed, surprised that I noticed, that her nipples were very hard now, standing out through bra and jumper, very obvious, very big.

"It was beautiful," I said without thinking. "Love is always beautiful, and you two are so obviously in love."

"Thank you," said Becky seriously. "Yes, we are. I just thought, with us being girls, some people have a problem, that's all."

"Oh no," I said, rather too quickly, "No, I don't have a problem. None of my business." I was floundering, because I was thinking of how they'd look making love, Megan naked, plump, luscious, writhing as Becky knelt beside her.

"Did you ever ..." Becky's half formed question hung in the air, startling me.

"What? Oh, no, never." I'd never even thought of making love to another girl, or letting another girl touch me like that. Never.

They got up, Becky settling back into her chair as Megan picked up the wine, refilled my glass.

Never even thought about it.

Till now.

Megan was standing behind the smaller girl, stroking her hair, one hand resting on Becky's shoulder, possessive. Megan was the one who took charge, who made the decisions. She was looking at me again like she had in the bathroom. Assessing.

"You're very pretty," she said quietly, a simple statement dripping with possibilities.

"We talked about what an attractive girl you were the first time we saw you," murmured Becky. She was looking at me too. The bathrobe had slipped off one of my legs, and her eyes traced the line of my thigh. Upwards, slowly.

"Oh," I said, wondering how Becky would look when she was coming, wondering again if she was a natural blond as my eyes were drawn to the soft shape of her breasts before I forced myself to meet her gaze.

She smiled. "You have lovely skin." My stomach clenched, and I gulped nervously, resisting the need to lick my lips. She leant back against Megan's stomach, looked up, and the plump brunette's hands cupped her face, then, fingers extended, slid down her neck till her fingertips were pressing on the tops of the small soft breasts.

"Time for bed," said Megan, her eyes on mine, her fingertips moving half an inch lower.

"Yes," said Becky, her voice suddenly husky.

Megan ushered me out into the small hall. At the far end, there were two doors to the bedrooms. The flat was like mine, I knew which was which. Megan reached past me to open the door to the smaller one, her perfume filling my nostrils.

"Here you are," she said, smiling, "Hope you sleep well."

"No," I said suddenly. They both froze. Time seemed to hang suspended. I couldn't believe I was saying this. "No. I don't want to sleep alone."

Megan's hands were on my shoulders, she was looking down at me, face serious, eyes dark pools, wide, sincere. She was much taller than me, strong looking.

"Are you sure? Really sure?" Not grabbing the chance, like most guys would. How soft her eyes were.

"Yes."

"Really sure?" But her hand was against my cheek now, the fingertips cool and soft.

"Really sure." I opened the door, noticing that my hand was shaking as I did it, realising that I was a virgin again, wondering about the tension in my stomach, the heat in my belly, the fear. Wondering what would happen, what they would do, what we would do.

She followed me in, then turned and kissed me very softly, her hands on my shoulders, not pulling me in, not gripping me, just resting there. And as she kissed me I felt Becky move close behind me, and her hands were on my shoulders too.

Then I felt Megan's hands move, start to undo the tie of my bathrobe, and my stomach clenched. I knew this was the moment - from here there could be no going back. Her hands slipped inside the robe and around my waist - soft and cool. And as she gently held me, Becky's hands slipped the robe off my shoulders.

It whispered to the floor, and I stood, naked and nervous, between the two of them as Megan kissed me again. I closed my eyes, shivering at the strangeness of it, the softness of them. Megan's lips left mine, moved to my cheek, the lobe of my ear, that amazingly sensitive spot on my neck just below and behind my ear, travelling slowly as she turned me round to face Becky.

Becky's kiss was harder, her lips firm, her tongue aggressive, sliding between my own lips to explore my mouth greedily as her hands moved down my arms, then round behind me till her hands cupped my hips and held us belly to belly. I could feel her nipples, small and hard, through the silk as her soft breasts flattened themselves against my own.

What was I doing? How had I got into this? Why was I enjoying it? As Becky finally broke the kiss I heard a sound behind me, could no longer feel Megan's warmth against my back, and looked round.