Dottily in Love

Not that I didn't love her like a sister; she was just utterly unreliable. In all honesty, when Michelle had mentioned her need for new digs, the idea of offering her Carole's room had only been fleeting. It was only two weeks: by Carole's standards she could turn up tomorrow and be relatively punctual.

'That bastard irked me,' said Martha, referring to our darling landlord, 'so I rang that landline that nobody ever answers. And I got this French girl who spoke English better than you. She said Carole was supervising water polo and went to fetch her.'

That was a massive leap in the right direction. Usually if anyone answered that number they could only speak Serbian . . . or at best Egyptian.

'And,' I prompted.

'Do you want the long version or the conclusion?'

'Cut to the chase.'

'She ain't coming back anytime soon. She said maybe after Christmas, but her putting money into anybody's account isn't going to happen.'

'I thought she was quids in.'

'Yeah, and apparently she's staying that way.'

'What about her course?'

'Trust me, Dotty; she's more interested in the next hard tourist dick than her course. Ask me, she won't be back in years, if ever.'

'So we need a new housemate,' I said flatly.

'How much?' asked Michelle.

I'd almost forgotten she was there. While I gaped at her Martha told her the monthly rent.

'Cheap at twice the price,' said Michelle. 'Count me in.'

'You haven't even seen the place,' I objected, not knowing why.

'I've seen dozens of student digs, from all ends of the scale. And cheap as your place is, I'm sure that you don't live in a dive. I only have to look at you both to see that.'

'But . . .' I said uselessly.

'You need to see ours before we agree anything,' Martha interrupted, 'but if you ask me we are a marriage made in heaven. Where are you living now?'

'In halls . . . and hating every second of it.'

How fast can you get out?'

'I haven't actually paid them a penny yet. I'll speak to the powers that be tomorrow. And with a fair wind, I'll move in with you two on Sunday.'

The speed of all this staggered me. Don't get me wrong, from fearing Michelle might quit to having her as a housemate . . .

Well I was scared in a way I can't begin to explain; scared, aroused and in urgent need of another prolonged session of jilling.

'How about this for a plan,' said Martha, taking over as per always: 'you speak to the powers that be tomorrow then call round at ours in the evening. We'll prove we don't live in a dive and then go out for a night on the town. I bet you have little experience of the local pubs and curry houses. No?'

'I've been in one or two nearby, but I'm sure there are many more.'

'So is that a deal in principle?'

'Too right it is.'

As for me I was ignored. Nodding donkeys had been paid more notice.

Chapter Four

Lots of Friday passed me by in idle speculation. I wanted to be Michelle's friend more than ever but I had developed a paranoid fear that she would favour Martha. In a way I wanted Michelle to be in halls forever. Yet I also wanted her to live in the bedroom next to mine.

Except that was the bedroom between mine and Martha's. And I didn't want her to be sleeping in a bed anywhere near Martha.

Crazy I know; dotty, even. Martha was straighter than straight. And so too was I, come to that! Yet suddenly I was seeing my best friend as a rival.

Come to that suddenly I was seeing simply everyone as a rival, male or female. As far as I could tell, everyone on earth had to want to fuck Michelle. By that I mean every man and every last woman; leastways every last woman with half of a brain cell.

I certainly did.

And what a confession was that!

I spent most of that day in a funk, worrying over the implications of Martha's idea of "a night out" and the rest worrying if I might make a fool out of myself. In explanation I'd say that Martha is straight but not at all averse to group sex. Blushing furiously as I write this, I have to admit that, since Carole went off abroad, we had occasionally brought home two, three or even four guys at once.

That's right; just the two of us.

And yes, we'd fucked with all of them, ensuring all present were involved, swapping partners from time to time but without ever doing anything outrageously "lezzie".

Trust me; that was not easy. Guys like to watch girls don't they? Not least when they've gone all floppy and are in need of a little revitalization.

Most me and Martha ever did was kiss and cuddle. That felt good and never failed to revitalize our latest two, three or four visitors . . .

It was an act, though. Yes, our parts were pleasant to play, but we only ever performed before an audience. We never got carried away when we were alone together. Apart from once when we'd been very drunk and woke up in Martha's bed, unsure about what may or may not have happened.

Well, I was unsure, Martha only ever sniggered if ever I mentioned it.

And omigod, I hope my mother isn't reading this! She almost murdered me when I lost my virginity at . . . ahem . . . a legal but young age. If she learns I've watched Martha being penetrated doubly and even trebly . . .

And that Martha had watched me following suit. . .

Casting motherly fears aside, it was fair to say I was in two minds when, after yet another day in close company with Michelle, more enchanted than ever, I went home, showered and waited for her arrival.

*****

At seven on the dot she knocked at our door. Making sure I got there first, I opened it to meet her with a rather sloppy kiss. That seemed to surprise her but she didn't object. In fact her hands closed on my buns and I laughingly pushed her away.

'Save it for later,' I said cryptically.

Her right eyebrow went up like Roger Moore's in his best James Bond mode.

But she said nothing.

Encouraged despite myself, I led her into our digs. And she whistled appreciation. 'This is no less than a palace,' she said softly. 'Bloody hell Dotty, are you sure you quoted the right price?'

I laughed. 'It was Martha who gave you the price, but she wasn't making it up. And amazingly, she didn't try to overcharge you. I think she really wants to have you as a housemate.'

Michelle's silence lasted maybe as long as a minute.

'I like Martha,' she said finally, 'but I like you more.'

The surge inside me almost split my heart. How happy was I to hear that! How absolutely, totally happy and how still unsure as to where I was going.

No, as to where we were going.

Doing the full estate agent bit, I showed Michelle all around. The one room we missed out on was Martha's . . . protected as it was by a DO NOT DISTURB sign, stolen from a nearby hotel.

'Usually that means she's on the job.' I explained, 'but this is early, even for her. Right now it only means she's busy putting on her face.'

'I meant it,' said Michelle, surprising me, gripping my hand tighter than tight, 'I like Martha but I like you even more.'

What did I just say about being straight? The temptation to kiss her there and then was massive. Being superhuman, I fought it off.

Or maybe it was pure luck.

Whatever it was, we exchanged meaningful glances. And, total innocent as I was, I knew only too well that from that moment on I really would do anything for her.

Yes, I'd do anything.

No qualifications, I'd do anything at all.

*****

Martha emerged from her pit while I was sharing a bottle of rosé with Michelle.

'She's convinced,' I said in greeting, 'and you've been downing shots, haven't you?'

Martha was dressed much like the two of us: exceptionally short skirt, tight blouse and a cut-off leather jacket. And yes, she'd clearly had a Sambuca or six in the privacy of her own room. That was her trait, you see. Sunday to Thursday she was a model student. Then, Friday evening, she would do a werewolf impression, transforming from studious and benign into an extreme party animal.

I already mentioned the games she liked to play. Fridays and Saturdays were her fun-time. Those times she enjoyed herself to the full and who could blame her?

Not me, obviously. I've confessed I played the same games.

And I'd take opportunity to stress that everything we did was voluntary. I never for one second felt as if I was being used. No, even with two men pounding into me at the same time, I invariably was in control. In honesty I sometimes believed that I used the guys; that they were fulfilling all my fantasies rather than the other way around.

That's one for a crazy-doctor though, not a mathematician like me. And it was definitely not one I wanted to run by the likes of Michelle. Not at this early stage of our steadily blossoming friendship.

'I've had one or two small shots,' my housemate told me, lying through her teeth, 'and they tasted better than that pink crap you're supping. So are we hitting the Green or not?'

The "Green" was away from the university, right in the heart of town and named after the ancient "Church Green". All I can say is that those long-ago parishioners must have had a thirst. There on and around the Green was one (admittedly impressive) church and no less than seven public houses.

Yes, it was possible to get totally pissed in an area of maybe a hundred square yards.

Being good UK citizens and diligent students, the Green was a Friday night must.

Chapter Five

Not that we made it straight to the Green in a matter of mere minutes. There were several pubs lying in wait between us and there, and we stopped in three of them. And, in the third, Martha's antennae twitched.

'Lookie, lookie, lookie,' she crooned, 'her comes nooky.'

I'd heard that before and wasn't exactly astonished to see a group of guys at the bar. It didn't take Einstein to class them as rugby players.

Yuk, I thought. Not tonight of all nights . . .

Martha (as per always) had other ideas. 'Over here, boys,' she called, 'let the dogs see the bone.'

I nearly convulsed at that. Calling us "dogs" and mentioning "bones" . . .

Typical frigging Martha!

Within perhaps two seconds our table for four had eight clustered around it. In other words it was exceptionally cosy if not downright crowded.

One of the five keen guys (the one with a flat nose, cauliflower ears and shoulders wider than the Titanic) focused in on Martha. He was obviously the leader of the pack and quite rightly saw her as a sure thing. For her part Martha smiled, simpered and as good as splayed wide her legs.

Nothing new there, then!

To my chagrin three of the rest of the mob were slavering over Michelle. Okay, so I couldn't blame them but I was envious. And the one remaining guy who'd homed in on me . . . clearly seeing me as a last resort . . . was barely nineteen with acne and bad breath.

Okay, so perhaps I'm doing him down. But fuck me . . . my right hand would be preferable to him every time.

Somehow my glass had got empty. Martha's and Michelle's were still half full so, extracting myself from my bad-breathed admirer, I went to the bar. Ten seconds later, with no sign of any attention from any serving bar-staff, a hand closed on mine.

'I want to get out of here,' Michelle said into my ear, almost hissing.

'You and your three new boyfriends,' I replied, hardly thinking.

'It's them I want to escape from. I want out of here and now.'

Her urgency was infectious. 'Okay,' I said, 'let's do one.'

'What about Martha?'

'Martha can look after herself. Trust me in that.'

The indecision in Michelle was only too apparent. 'We can't leave her outnumbered five-to-one.'

'Let's give her the choice,' said I, clutching Michelle's hand tighter than ever, drawing her back to our table.

'We're leaving,' I told Martha, 'places to go, people to see.'

Martha sniggered. 'I guessed that was the way the wind was blowing. Go forth and multiply.'

Coming from anyone else I'd have punched her. Coming from Martha I told her to take care. She cast a glance at her cauliflower-eared suitor and laughed.

'Don't warn me, warn him.'

*****

Our four would-be suitors didn't approve of our early departure. Like we cared! We left the pub in a hurry, took a couple of turns and were soon lost in a maze of backstreets.

'I hated that,' Michelle told me, 'gross men staring at my tits.'

I laughed. Scantily dressed as we were, men were always going to stare at our body parts. That was the name of the game, wasn't it?

'Men aren't always gross,' I said in a throwaway sort of a way.

'They are to me,' said Michelle, 'I can't believe Martha allows them have their way with her.'

Stunned, I stopped in my tracks. I had hoped and prayed that Michelle might tend to like girls, but I had never suspected she was militantly anti-men.

'Oh,' she said, staring at me, 'I've dropped the bombshell and you've reacted. Now you'll want me to fade and disappear,'

As if!

'Your relationship . . . the broken one . . . was with a girl?' I hazarded.

Michelle nodded. 'Please feel free to jump ship,' she said.

I didn't rise to the bait. 'Your ex must be mad to let you go. No, she must be stark staring bonkers.'

Michelle's brow creased but she didn't storm off.

'I have my bad points,' she confessed. 'And you don't have to be so very understanding about the way I am. I'll look for somewhere else to rent tomorrow. As you said, there's plenty of accommodation to be had in these parts.'

'You will do no such thing,' I said sternly. 'You're moving in with us on Sunday, end of.'

'Look me in the eye and tell me you don't have a problem with lesbians.'

'Michelle,' I said as seriously as I possibly could, 'I have no problems at all with lesbians. In fact I am delighted that's how you are. It's the best news I've had in ages.'

That put her back a step. 'Really?' she murmured.

Instead of answering I kissed her properly, using my tongue. She didn't object in the least, sucking on my invading organ of taste, pressing her body tight against mine. Let's just say we went at it avidly.

And let's also say it was a heavenly experience. Everything about her was good; her perfume, the feel of her tits on mine, the grip of her hands on my ass . . .

Heavenly, heavenly, heavenly!

Perhaps half an hour later we broke for air, my knees weak and my knickers decidedly damp.

'Was that evidence enough?' I gasped.

She nodded. 'You bet it was. And I was wrong. It's not too soon. It's been far too long.'

*****

Still short of the infamous Green I steered Michelle into a pub I'd never previously frequented. It was, you see, a notorious lesbian pub known as The Pride. And before you ask, I was aware of it because I had eyes in my head and had seen all the fliers littering the campus. According to the fliers The Pride was very much "girl friendly" and had "live acts" every weekend.

Even so I was quite startled as we went in. The place was packed with women of all sizes, shapes and descriptions and, as far as I could tell, men were barred. Everyone present, including the bar staff and bouncers, was female.

And those bouncers were a sight for sore eyes. Not that my attention lingered on them long. No, it swiftly focused on the night's live act, happening on a stage off to our right, beyond the bar. Currently clad in fishnet stockings, a sliver of a thong and a basque, an extraordinarily well-put-together young lady was singing and gyrating.

Except on closer inspection her basque was either unfastened else cut off. Said young lady's bare breasts were juggling about like a stall full of luscious ripe melons.

My but she was spectacular. Usually an excess of pale makeup and black kohl revolted me but for her I made an exception.

Oh me, I thought, gazing at those wondrous perpetually moving melons, one kiss and I've turned 180 degrees!

'Bloody hell,' Michelle said into my ear, shouting over the blaring music to be heard, 'I don't need this much evidence.'

'We're here now,' I shouted back at her. 'I'd be rude to leave without having a drink.'

Michelle laughed and ordered two large pinots, served up by a punky, tattooed and multi-pierced barmaid who quite openly ogled our cleavages. Not that she did so in an offensive way. And not that Michelle seemed to mind.

Neither did I mind when Michelle put her hand on my ass as we turned to watch the diva on stage. The Pride was that sort of a place. Girls obviously went there to ogle and be ogled and, in a few rather obvious instances, to exceptionally thoroughly grope and be groped. Trust me, one friendly hand on a pert and eager bum was nothing compared to some of the goings-on around us.

It would have taken a bucket of icy-cold water to separate some of those couples.

And the night was still young. What on earth would the atmosphere be like later on?

Come to that, what would the diva be like later on? By then the basque was gone altogether. As we watched the thong also went west. Then the music changed and everyone was singing along with her.

"Sisters are doin' it for themselves!" cried a hundred voices, louder than loud, probably using more decibels than AC/DC ever could.

Without hesitation we both joined in, staring at the singer's increasing rapidly moving sex, possibly salivating (I was, anyway!) and automatically, instinctively past of the sisterhood.

'That was great,' Michelle told me as the song changed to You Don't Have to Say You Love Me, (even more voices at it now, few of them sounding remotely like Dusty) 'but I can't hear myself think in here. Let's go somewhere where we can chinwag.'

I obediently finished my drink and, casting a final lusty glance at the suddenly naked songstress, we made for the exit.

Just in time to bump into Jade and her date of the night.

'Dotty,' she screeched, 'out at last, hallelujah and thank the Lord.'

Never one for conventions, Jade kissed me smack on the lips. Then she evaluated Michelle and gave approval. 'Thought you'd go for butch but hey, your taste is excellent. See you both later. And do not do anything I wouldn't.'

'That narrows the field down not at all,' I replied smartly. But too late; she was already gone.

'Who in hell was that?' Michelle wondered in the relative peace and quiet of the street.

'That was Jade. She's been trying to convert me for yonks.'

'Has she had any success?'

'No, she hasn't. You're the first who's going to succeed.'

It was Michelle's turn to come to an abrupt halt. 'You go in places like that and you're a virgin?'

'I've messed around a bit,' I said, blushing furiously. 'Kissing and cuddling, I mean. I don't think that really counts.'

Michelle responded by taking her turn to kiss me. My response was to say the least, enthusiastic. Indeed it wasn't hungry, it was downright ravenous.

'I can't wait,' she said, nuzzling me, her hand on my buns again, squeezing me, pleasing me and (if I'm sticking to honesty) making me cum beyond control.

Chapter Six

I won't bore you with the next few pubs, some of them actually on the Green but we carried on getting to know each other. And, even if she flatly refused to discuss her ex, Michelle was open enough about her other lovers.

Exclusively female, she said she had never had a positive sexual impulse towards a man. No. she didn't actively hate men, she simply had no desire to ever "succumb" to one. Succumbing to a fellow female was different altogether. She had no fear of penetration when it came from a fellow female. In fact she relished everything which came from a fellow female. It was men who did nothing for her at all. On the contrary ever last woman had something going for her. She could see redeeming features in all of them, whatever colour, shape or size.

I hedged when it came to my sexual experience, making it sound like I admired every woman I'd ever met without ever doing anything about it. It's fair to say that Michelle saw straight through me.