Summerhouse Blues

"Thanks, darlin'. Just leave it there for me, will you," was all she said when I got there. She hardly even looked up at me. I was furious although I'm not sure why. I let the top of my dressing gown fall open a bit and bent forward to put down the mug.

"Just here?" I asked. She looked up and I know I was giving her an eyeful but it was as if she didn't even notice.

"Yeah, that'll do," was all she replied.

I barely suppressed an urge to pull open my gown and scream "look at me, look at me goddammit!" but I controlled myself and in a foul mood I flounced off back to the house.

I was now really confused. Yesterday I had got these strong signals that Rhonda was making some sort of pass at me but today it was as if I was invisible. I'd all but flashed her my boobs, my beautiful all natural boobs, and she had completely ignored them. What was wrong with her; she was the one who was supposed to fancy other women; wasn't I good enough for her?

Still fuming I took my frustration back to my bolt hole, the home gym. I changed into my leotard and this time went for the rowing machine which I moved right next to the window making sure I could be seen from the garden. Once again selecting the Kylie downloads on my iPod I settled down to find my rhythm. I don't know why I bothered to move the rowing machine because Rhonda never even looked up. However, once I stopped trying to pose for her, I did find myself drifting back to that happy place where the endless back and forth of the machine and the music in my ears meant that the time just slipped away. My eyes closed and I rowed and rowed until I just stopped thinking, until nothing seemed to matter any more.

That, of course, meant that I was once again away with the fairies and it was quite a while before I realised that Rhonda was standing there looking at me. Jerked out of my dreaming I looked up and saw her holding one of those plastic tubs of Pot Noodles.

"Yeah, where's the microwave, darlin'?" she asked.

"Pot Noodles! Please, Rhonda, I can do better than that. Let me see what's in the fridge and I'll cook you something proper to eat."

"Nah, don't bother, Pot Noodles is fine by me."

"Please, Rhonda, I want to, please." Why on earth was I begging?

"Well, if you put it like that," Rhonda laughed, "who am I to deprive you?"

"Look, just give me five minutes to get ready and I'll make something nice for you," I said. "No, don't go, please, stay and talk," I called out as Rhonda started for the door.

"If you say so," Rhonda replied.

"I'll just..." I pointed at the shower area in the corner of the gym and Rhonda nodded.

The shower area is not quite open to the gym, there's a sort of curly wall to provide some modesty, but there's no door or anything and as I peeled off my sweat soaked leotard and turned on the taps we were both well aware of what I was doing. I gave myself the quickest of washes, grabbed a towel, rubbed myself down, wrapped it around myself, knotted it off just above my tits and walked back out into the gym.

"There, that's better," I said, "let's see what I can find in the fridge."

Was I being deliberately provocative? I'm not sure I was being deliberately anything. Rhonda had got me all in a tizzy in ways I couldn't cope with and yes, I guess I did want some sort of reaction. Rhonda just grunted and followed me into the kitchen, standing in the doorway while I rummaged around looking for something to offer her. I guess I just had to look in bottom drawer and, if I flashed my fanny at her, well, we were all girls together weren't we? I found a pork pie and some tomatoes, stood up and held them out offering them to her.

"Yeah, that's perfect, darlin'. Look, you'd best bring it out to the garden; you don't want me traipsing mud all over your nice clean kitchen."

"No! No, please, stay and eat with me. Please, I want you to eat with me." Why did I sound so desperate?

"Stay and eat with you, is that all you want? Let's see, shall we?" Rhonda said and, in two quick strides, she came up to me and tugged at the knot holding my towel up. With one hand full of pork pie and the other full of tomatoes I couldn't stop the towel from falling and, as it puddled around my ankles, I stood there naked as the day I was born.

"Rhonda!" I cried out.

"Shut it!" Rhonda snapped back at me. "You've been flashing your fanny at me all morning; that's what you wanted, now that's what you've got. Now, why don't you try offering me lunch again?"

My knees were trembling and my heart was pounding and I was scared out of my wits. I knew I should run, just run away but the look in Rhonda's eyes made me stay.

"Please, Rhonda, would you like some pork pie and tomato?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Thanks, darlin', that'll do nicely," Rhonda said as if everything were perfectly normal.

Still naked and feeling about as embarrassed as I could do, I took the pie and tomatoes over to the work surface, found the chopping board, sliced it all up and put it on a plate along with a couple of slices of some nice crusty bread I'd got in. When I had finished I motioned Rhonda to sit down at the kitchen table and I put the plate down in front of her. Then I reached down to pick the towel up off the floor.

"Uh huh. The towel stays there. I'll decide when you get dressed again," Rhonda said. "Now, have you got any beer in that fridge of yours?"

It was weird, really weird, to be playing the waitress for Rhonda while still completely naked but now that she'd taken control I didn't have much choice. Well, of course I did; I could have just walked away but, for some strange reason, that never occurred to me. I went to the fridge, found a can of lager, fetched a glass and poured it out for her. All the while I could feel Rhonda's eyes watching my every move. After I'd done this she had me stand beside her and turned sideways on to the table so as to give me the once over whilst she ate. She even reached out and stroked the fuzz of my Brazilian; I like to leave a little on my pussy lips otherwise it makes me itch too much. The touch of her fingers sent electric currents coursing through me making me shiver and I jumped back in surprise but she told me off and had me return to standing in front of her. As she ate her pork pie with one hand she calmly reached out with the other and diddled with my pussy. I even found myself pushing my hips a little towards her.

"You like that, do you?" Rhonda asked.

I couldn't reply but my cheeks were on fire with my blushes.

"Well, do you? Do you like me playing with your cunt?"

"I... I..." I hate the 'C' word and couldn't find the right reply. "Oh my god!" Rhonda had pushed her fingers between my pussy lips and I gasped with surprise, or was it pleasure.

"I'll take that as a 'yes' then," Rhonda laughed. "Come closer."

I shuffled a little closer and Rhonda's fingers continued to play with me. Normally I don't like the way that Jack goes straight there, he's no idea about foreplay or warming me up before we start but I guess I was ready and waiting because Rhonda's fingers were slipping inside easy-peasy.

"Randy little cow, aren't you?" Rhonda laughed. "Gagging for it. What's up, doesn't that hubby of yours give you the attention you need, or maybe it's me that gets you going."

I didn't know what to say; it's true that I can hardly remember the last time Jack came anywhere near me but that was only one half of the story. This bloody woman had barged her way into my life and turned it up side down until I was standing stark naked in my own kitchen whilst she diddled me. I really ought to pull away but....

"Please, Rhonda..." I started.

"Please what?" she asked as her fingers worked their magic on my nether regions. "Please stop or please make me come?"

"I don't know." I was nearly in tears. "I really don't know."

"Well if you don't know then you'd better leave it up to me," she said firmly. She removed her fingers and held them up. "Lick," was all she said.

I leant forward and, like some kind of robot, licked my juices off her fingers. It was the first time I had ever tasted girl juice and, to my surprise, it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. In fact it tasted quite nice. It was Rhonda who pulled her fingers away, not me that stopped licking.

"Well, I can't be sitting around all day, those foundations won't dig themselves. Thanks for lunch, darlin'." And, as if nothing were out of the ordinary, she pushed back her chair, stood up and headed for the back door.

"But... but..." I stammered.

"But what? Have I left you all hot and bothered? Well, tough tittie. You've been blowing hot and cold with me since I got here and now you know what it's like to be on the receiving end. See ya." And with that she was off.

Now I really was in turmoil. I grabbed the towel from the floor, wrapped it around myself and stormed off upstairs, throwing myself on the bed. How had I let myself behave like that. How had I let myself.... My cheeks burned again in shame as I admitted to myself that I couldn't blame it all on Rhonda. Coming out of the shower wearing only a towel had been a stupid move, one designed to provoke a reaction and now I was angry because I had got one.

Worse than that, despite the fact that Rhonda hadn't been in any way delicate or gentle with me, the feeling as her fingers had slipped inside had tickled my fancy and awoken needs I hadn't felt in so long, it's not true. I'd been a horny little cow at seventeen and now, all these years later, I was a horny cow again. If things between Jack and myself had been any better then I would have waited until he got home and he would have got the shag of his life; as it was I couldn't stand the rejection I knew I would get. That left two options, my trusty vibrator, for so long my only friend, or going to Rhonda and asking, no begging, for her to sort me out. I rolled over, opened my bedside cabinet and reached for my rabbit.

Five minutes later I was nicely satisfied, except, somehow, I wasn't. Sure, the rabbit had done its stuff, I'd had a nice little orgasm and it wouldn't surprise me if my cries had been heard by Rhonda out in the garden but there was something missing and although the main itch that Rhonda had left me with was gone I still felt a need to feel skin on skin, to be taken, to be ravished. That was what used to attract me to Jack, back in the early days, the way he would just take what he wanted, use me, ravish me. All that was left nowadays was the brutality with none of the passion, ravishment had turned to rape had turned to assault and battery. Maybe that was why Rhonda had so much power over me. The thought of being ravished by Rhonda was... was what? Scary? Yes, but far more than that. I could feel my juices start to flow again. Before I got any further I wiped off the rabbit and put it back in the drawer; if I didn't get off the bed I'd be there all day.

The next morning I'd still not got any further reaction out of Rhonda. I'd made her some tea and she'd been polite if a bit distant. I ended up moping around the house wondering what to do when it struck me, I'd play some tennis. It was a perfect day for it and we had a tennis court out at the back of the garden. I didn't have a partner, of course, and Jack had drawn the line at letting me have tennis lessons, banging on about not letting me near all those randy tennis pros but he had got me one of those machines you load up with tennis balls and then it fires them at you and you return serve. I got dressed in sports bra, nice white cotton panties and a pretty little tennis dress that came to mid thigh. Then I dug out my racket and set off down to the garden.

I was still bashing tennis balls around when Rhonda came past with her wheelbarrow.

"Watcha, darlin'. Fuck tennis, I've got to nip into town for a forty mill 'U' bend. Fancy a spin on the bike?"

I just looked at her.

"Bike, motorbike, vintage Norton Commando currently leaking oil all over your nice gravel drive?" Rhonda prompted.

It seemed years since I'd been on a bike, dammit it was years since I'd been on a bike. I had no idea what a Norton Commando was but I could guarantee that Rhonda wouldn't ride anything small and weedy. Whatever, it had to be better than playing tennis against a machine. Meekly I nodded that, yes, I would go.

She dropped off the wheelbarrow and came back to lead me round to the front of the house where her bike stood. It was big, black and mean; my sort of machine, and definitely hers. Clipped to the back were two full face helmets, the sort with tinted visors. She took one for herself and handed me the other. She got on, kicked the machine into life, and nodded me to get on the back. As I approached I saw the immediate problem; if you want to retain any modesty whatsoever a mid thigh tennis dress is not the thing to wear on the back of a bike. I couldn't talk to Rhonda, not with us both wearing full face helmets and all but I motioned towards the house and plucked at my dress to show her that I was just nipping inside to change. I could sense Rhonda's impatience as she shook her head and motioned me to the back of the bike. Oh well, nothing ventured and all that. With an expertise that comes from long practice, oh how I miss those years, I put one foot on the passenger footrest and swung my other leg over before settling down, cuddled up to Rhonda's back.

I should have known, I should have bloody known; Rhonda treated speed limits as if they weren't part of her world. It had been years since I'd had a good run on the back of a bike and all the reasons I used to love it were still right there. The noise, the wind, the throb of a powerful motor between my legs. I hung on tight as we twisted and turned through the lanes and then thrilled to the full throttle roar once we hit the main road; I loved every minute and there were far too few of them before we were pulling into the car park at Wickes. I jumped off the bike, pulled off my helmet, shook my hair free and grinned at Rhonda like the Cheshire cat. Together we went into the store to find whatever gizmo she was looking for. However, before we returned to the checkouts she led me towards the back of the warehouse until we were outside the bogs.

"Lose the panties," she ordered.

"What?"

"I said lose the panties. If you're wearing panties when we leave you're not getting back on the bike, simple as that. So, if I were you I'd go to the bogs, take off your knickers and, when you come back, give them to me."

I could tell from the tone of her voice that she was completely serious and, after the initial shock, I wasn't that averse; there's something about big bikes that brings out the naughty in me and if this is what she wanted then who was I to refuse. More than that, the naughty in me decided that if Rhonda could play games then so can I; glancing up and down the aisle I checked out if anyone was around but the warehouse was pretty quiet at this time of day and we were tucked away down at the back. I reached up under the hem of my skirt, whipped down my panties and stepped out of them. I held them up and waved them in Rhonda's face like a flag.

"Is this what you wanted?" I said grinning from ear to ear.

Without saying a word Rhonda just took them from me and tucked them in the pocket of her jeans.

"Come on then," she said as we headed off to the checkouts. She paid for whatever it was that she had picked up and moments later we were out of there.

"Don't sit on your dress," she said as we crossed the car park.

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"When we get back on the bike don't sit on your dress," she explained as if talking to a dim child.

"Er... OK," I said but I was far from OK. I knew exactly what happened to skirts worn on bikes if you didn't sit on them. Still, I hadn't hesitated to take my panties off and if Rhonda had ordered it then who was I to disobey.

As I suspected we had hardly got out of the car park before the wind had whipped up the hem of my dress and it was riding high around my waist. I would have been giving all and sundry a good look at my panties except, of course, they were in Rhonda's jeans pocket. Thanking the lord for the full face helmet I tucked myself in as close as I could get behind Rhonda and buried my head in her shoulder blades. Rhonda, probably deliberately, took us right through the centre of town and I glanced sideways where I could see our reflection in the plate glass window of Tescos. I was showing a lot of thigh and probably quite a bit of arse as well. We were certainly attracting a certain amount of attention and I got quite a few wolf whistles.

We were out of town and onto the ring road when I saw the copper pull out of a side road and, immediately, he switched on his blues and twos. Rhonda's reaction was simple and straightforward, one flick of her right wrist and the bike showed what it could do. By the time we reached the roundabout at the end we were passing everything else like it was standing still and then with a lean left, lean right, lean left again we barely slowed and the roundabout was history.

I screamed in pure pleasure; sitting on the back of a powerful bike running at full speed from the law, it really doesn't get any better than that. The blue flashing lights and two-tone siren were fast fading into the distance; what chance did the copper have against a big bike ridden by someone like Rhonda?. I could have ridden all morning and it was all too soon that we were pulling back into the drive; Rhonda pushed down the kick-stand, leant the bike over and switched it off. For a moment I just sat there hugging myself into Rhonda's body listening to the plink, plink, plink of the cooling engine and waiting for my own engine to cool down as well. It was Rhonda who reached down and unclasped my hands from around her waist indicating that it was time to get off.

I swung my leg back over, stepped down, took off my helmet, and shook my hair free. When I looked up Rhonda was standing next to the bike, also with her helmet off.

"Looks like someone enjoyed herself," she laughed pointing to the passenger seat; it was slick with my juices but I was only slightly embarrassed; what girl wouldn't get excited after a ride like that.

"Well, clean it up then," Rhonda said as if I were missing the obvious.

"I'll fetch a cloth," I replied and headed for the house.

"With your tongue, darlin', with your tongue."

I turned and looked at her. She was deadly serious and she tilted her head towards the bike. Slowly, and without once looking anywhere but at her, I returned to the bike and knelt down beside it. I leant forward, poked out my tongue and, still with my eyes locked on Rhonda, started to lick the seat clean. This was the second time I'd tasted my juices and this time the taste was mixed with the sharp tang of leather. I don't think I had ever felt so horny in my life. I was licking the seat like I wanted to lick Rhonda, lick her all over, taste every inch of her body, taste her sweat, her power, her....

"Careful, darlin'," Rhonda called out. "Mind the exhaust pipe, you'll burn yourself. Anyway, that's enough for now. I need to be getting on." She turned and headed for the garden.

"For god's sake, Rhonda," I called as I stood up and chased after her.

"What?" she turned and asked.

"Please, Rhonda, don't leave me like this. I need... I need..." I wasn't sure what to say so I pulled up the hem of my dress and started to stroke myself down there. "Please, Rhonda." I repeated.

"If you want to diddle yourself that's fine by me; I've got better things to do, build a summerhouse for starters," Rhonda said.

I was devastated. She'd wound me up like a clockwork toy and, now that my spring was at breaking point she was dropping me.

"Please, Rhonda," I repeated, I was close to tears.