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Full Circle

9/16/2004

Crack.
<br>

The twig snapped under her foot like a firecracker.
<br>

She stopped. Listening intently for sounds of pursuit.
All was quiet. She hurried on. Why hadn't she listened
to her friends and stayed in the States until the New Year.
No, she'd wanted to surprise them. She was certainly
going to do that. If only she hadn't gone back and found
Richard in bed with that bitch Christy. No. It was better
to know. The bastard. He'd fucked her as well that morning
before she had left to catch her plane. If she hadn't
realised she'd left a gift for the Wagstaffe's
from her mother in the flat she wouldn't have needed
to go back. The bastard.
<br>

It was snowing again.
<br>

Another frozen twig snapped beneath her foot. With each
step she took the Moon lit shadows before her moved and twisted
and changed shape. Somebody was following her. She was
certain of that. She broke into a clearing near the top of
the hill. There were two tracks. One leading off to the right
past a solitary old oak and the other down a steep path to
some buildings. The tree looked familiar. One building
at the bottom of the path had a single light in a downstairs
window. That one would do. They would help her.
<br>

She ran to the front door, past a black Rover Metro parked
on the drive to one side of the house. The snow was piling
up against its side. Pressing the bell she banged with her
hands in her panic. A light went on in the hall.
<br>

"Who's there?" A woman's voice asked
through the door.
<br>

"Help me please."
<br>

"What's wrong?" The voice asked.
<br>

"I've crashed my car and I heard on the local radio
that a patient had escaped from the local secure hospital.
This man stopped and he tried to get into my car and I'm
sure he's followed me."
<br>

The door opened on a chain and an eye peered through the gap
and looked her up and down.
<br>

"Are you alone?"
<br>

"Yes. Please hurry."
<br>

She heard the chain being lifted and the door was thrown
open. Quickly she stepped inside and the woman closed and
locked the door behind her.
<br>

"You look frozen. Come and sit down by the fire."
The woman said showing her into a small living room with
a roaring wood fire. "Let me take your coat. It's
soaking wet."
<br>

It was warm in the room so she allowed the woman to remove
her coat.
<br>

"I think you had best take your shoes and tights off."
The woman said.
<br>

Looking down at her snow-covered feet and the trail of footprints
she'd left from the door she stammered an apology.
<br>

"I'm sorry."
<br>

The woman stepped closer and placed an arm around her shoulders.
She smelt fresh. As if she had just got out of the bath. There
was another smell. She knew it but couldn't place it.
She was wearing a quilted dressing gown that looked a size
too big.
<br>

"Don't be silly. My name is Rachel, by the way."
<br>

"Mine's Cleo. Cleopatra el McToomb."
<br>

"That's impressive." Rachel said picking
up Cleo's shoes.
<br>

"My father is an Egyptian."
<br>

"And your tights. I'll bring you some slippers.
My partners should fit you."
<br>

He must be a small man. Cleo thought as she pulled off her
wet tights and sat in a chair by the fire. She only took a size
six in English sizes.
<br>

"Where is he. Your partner I mean?" Cleo asked.
<br>

"She." Rachel corrected, sitting down opposite.
"Lesley. We only moved in this week and it being Christmas
Eve she decided she would visit her parents tonight and
get it over with for this year. With all this snow around
I don't suppose she'll make it back up the road
tonight."
<br>

"You didn't go?"
<br>

"They don't approve."
<br>

Cleo looked across at Rachel. What was she? Thirty-two,
three. Three or four years older than herself? She was small.
She couldn't have weighed more than seven stones.
A lot less than her ten and a half. Well, her mother had turned
into a big woman. Fortunately Egyptians like them like
that.
<br>

Cleo was conscious of Rachel studying her and suddenly
felt uncomfortable. Automatically she pulled down on
the hem of her skirt. She gave up the unequal battle. There
was no way it was ever going to cover her knees.
<br>

"Can I use your phone? Please." Cleo asked.
"I have some friends near here and I'm sure they
would come and pick me up.
<br>

"I'm sorry." Came the reply. "As
I said we only moved in this week and it's not connected
yet. Where do your friends live?"
<br>

"Chipping Marsden."
<br>

"Oh yes. It's just around the hill. Which way
did you come to get here?"
<br>

"Over the hill and down this steep path."
<br>

"If you had taken the other path, past the old oak,
you'd come to Chipping Marsden. We had a walk up there
a couple of days ago. You can walk down by the stream past
this lovely cottage with a walled garden."
<br>

"That's where I want to go." Cleo almost
swore. If only she'd taken the other route. Of course
she knew the tree and the path. Ten minutes, five if she'd
run would have taken her to the bridge over the stream. She
had a key to the door and knew the alarm numbers if they weren't
there. "That's where my friends live."
<br>

She could have stayed in their flat in London. Just a phone
call from the Airport but, no. She had to take the hire car
even though it had meant waiting for it for two hours. It
was all Richard's fault. She could still see his cock
pistoning in and out of that bitch. Hear the squelching
sounds it made. Little wonder he wasn't giving her
as much as he used too if he was servicing that cow as well.
And that was why he didn't want to come with her on this
visit.
<br>

"I don't think I know them. But then we haven't
really met anybody yet."
<br>

"Paul and Jennifer Wagstaffe."
<br>

"I don't know him but I do her." Rachel smiled
in memory. "She used to teach English in my school.
She was always coming back from the holidays either in plaster
or bandaged. It was because of her I decided to become a teacher.
She interviewed me for the job I'm starting in the New
Year. A lot of schools won't take you if they find out
you are gay. She said she'd take me because I was the
best person for the job. I told her my days of lusting after
girls in Gymslips are long gone."
<br>

But not twenty-eight year old Doctors. Cleo thought catching
the way Rachel was glancing in her direction and crossing
and uncrossing her legs.
<br>

"That would be her."
<br>

"How do you know them? You're an American aren't
you."
<br>

"They have been friends of my parents since before
I was born." Paul had been a very good friend of my mother's,
Cleo could have added.
<br>

"You certainly don't look Egyptian."
<br>

No. Cleo thought. But I did share the same womb and mother
with a descendent of a Pharaoh. She'd asked that question
herself when she'd been fourteen and on a visit to England.
Her mother had always insisted that she have contact with
the Wagstaffe's at least once every year and was forever
sending copies of her first drawings and writings to them.
She told her and Jenny had confirmed it that Paul was her
father. He was probably the only person who didn't
know. But from that time on her visits to England had taken
on a new meaning. Something to look forward to.
<br>

"No. Strange that. My brother is exactly like our
father."
<br>

Cleo gave Rachel a smile.
<br>

"Would you like something to drink?" Rachel
said rising and pointing to the sideboard on which were
a small selection of bottles and glasses. "I was going
to stay up for another hour just in case Lesley does make
it back. The kettle's not long boiled for coffee and
I was going to sit up with a pot and a glass of Brandy."
<br>

Not for the first time Cleo was glad her mother had not allowed
her to be brought up a Muslim like her brother.
<br>

"Coffee and Brandy sound great. Can I switch your
TV set on?" Cleo asked, indicating the set in the corner.
<br>

"I'm afraid it doesn't work properly yet.
The receptions very poor in this valley and we have a man
coming in the New Year to install a satellite system. We
just use it for playing videos on."
<br>

"Don't you feel a bit frightened, on your own
here?" Cleo asked, following Rachel in to the kitchen
where she started to make the coffee.
<br>

"I wasn't." Rachel replied, spooning
some instant coffee into a pot and switching the electric
kettle back on. "Not until you arrived. We'll
be safe here together."
<br>

Rachel reached out and squeezed Cleo's hand gently.
Cleo felt herself tense, then relaxed. She shouldn't
read something into everything. What if the man at her crashed
car had been only trying to help her? Had she over-reacted
when his hand had touched the door handle? He'd been
carrying something long and black in his hand. She'd
certainly taken him by surprise. Leaping out like that
and kneeing him in the balls. At least outside the car she'd
have room to move. If he'd smashed a window and got in
she knew from many hours spent on the back eat of cars during
her teens that few women could fight off a determined man
in a confined space. Fortunately all her partners on the
back seat had been Gentlemen-ish.
<br>

"Yes." Cleo said, realisation dawning upon
her for the first time. "Yes. I suppose I will have
to stay the night. If you'll have me."
<br>

"Love to. Have you stay, I mean."
<br>

Cleo sat down in her chair. Rachel set down the coffee and
cups on a small round coffee table and collected the bottle
of brandy and two glasses from the sideboard. She poured
two sizeable measures Brandy and a cup of coffee each and
sat in the armchair opposite.
<br>

"I'm sorry." Rachel looked up and smiled
at her. "I didn't ask whether you took milk or
sugar."
<br>

"Black is fine thank you." Cleo replied. "You
say reception on the TV is bad but can you receive anything?
Or do you have a radio?"
<br>

"Our radio alarm was broken in the move and the rest
of our things won't be arriving until the New Year."
She smiled again. "I'm afraid we just had to move
in. We've only had a flat before."
<br>

"What does your partner do?" Cleo asked, sipping
at her brandy and feeling the warmth spreading throughout
her body.
<br>

"Lesley is joining a firm of Accountants in Taunton."
<br>

"Paul Wagstaffe has an Accountancy firm in Taunton."
<br>

"He must be one of the last of the Independents. Most
have amalgamated over the years to save costs. Lesley is
joining one of the large Internationals."
<br>

"I don't know. He does a lot of work in America."

<br>

Especially recently. He'd been to Dallas four times
this year to her knowledge alone.
<br>

Cleo took another sip of brandy. Almost before her glass
had touched the table Rachel had topped it up unbidden.
<br>

It was warm in the room. Perhaps it was just a delayed reaction
from the excitement of the chase over the hill but she felt
very tired. She thought of her medical bag back in old Michael
de Vane's surgery in Washington. There would have
been something in there to keep her awake.
<br>

Old Michael. She'd known him all her life. He'd
guided her footsteps, as a father would have. Easing obstacles
in her path. Helping her each step along the way to her chosen
profession. It had been easy to want to follow her mother
into the Medical profession. Having been brought up in
a medical environment Michael had estimated that she had
covered seventy percent of the course work needed to become
a doctor before she started it. The hours she had spent listening
to discussions and proposed treatments between members
of the practice. How each member of the practice had been
willing to take the time to explain what they considered
before prescribing a course of treatment. All little nuggets
stored away in an enquiring and eager mind.
<br>

She looked again at the Television set. Was there somebody
out there who had followed her across the hills? Was he an
escaped inpatient from a secure Hospital?
<br>

"Would you like me to switch the set on and see if we
can pick up something." Rachel asked, as if she read
her mind. "It is time for the local late news."
<br>

"Please."
<br>

Rachel stood up. One of her boobs was sticking out of the
front of her dressing gown. It was small with a hard brown
nipple. Should she point it out or not draw attention to
the fact she had noticed? She kept quiet.
<br>

Rachel bent from the waist to switch on the TV pointing her
small, round backside towards Cleo. She turned her head
away. She shouldn't be looking. When she looked again
Rachel was still twiddling with the tuning dial. Some of
the material of her dressing gown had ridden up between
her ass cheeks. Cleo felt an almost irresistible urge to
reach out and pull it free.
<br>

Suddenly the set crackled into life and Rachel straightened
and took a step backwards. The picture was cloudy with heavy
black lines racing down the screen but the commentary could
just be made out.
<br>

'Roberta Long, the inpatient from Tone Vale Hospital
has still to be been found. She left the hospital late this
afternoon by slipping out through the kitchen area whilst
the staff were enjoying a pre-Christmas drink. A black
Rover Metro, the property of one of the Nurses, was stolen
around this time. Neither patient nor car has been seen.
Miss Long is described as five feet three inches tall. Seven
stones four pounds in weight with Mousy coloured hair and
a pale complexion. Police ask the general public not to
approach Miss Long if seen but to report to them.'
<br>

'The police have also issued a warning to motorists
that due to the heavy snowfall forecast for this evening
and night people should only make journeys that are absolutely
necessary. Driving conditions are treacherous.'
<br>

Cleo could vouch for that. That bastard Richard. She'd
even left her mobile phone on the hall table in her rush to
get away from them.
<br>

Reception faded and Rachel bent forward to switch the set
off. The dressing gown was still pushed up between the cheeks
of her ass. Unconsciously Rachel reached behind her back
and pulled it out.
<br>

"Sorry." She said, realising what she had done.
<br>

"That's alright." Cleo replied.
<br>

So, the escaped patient was a small woman. Rachel was a small
woman. With mousy coloured hair. Rachel's was a chestnut
brown. A black Rover Metro. There was a black Rover Metro
parked outside.
<br>

She did know Jenny Wagstaffe though. She'd spoken
with real affection in her voice.
<br>

That smell. A smell from the hairdressing saloon. The smell
of somebody who'd just coloured her hair.
<br>

Rachel reached forward and poured a little more Brandy
into her glass. Cleo watched her lift her own glass to her
lips and drink.
<br>

"More coffee?" Rachel asked, leaning forward
in her chair.
<br>

"I'm fine thank you." Cleo relied, picking
up her cup. "I haven't finished this yet."
<br>

Started it, would be nearer the truth, she thought.
<br>

"Are you hungry at all?"
<br>

"No. I'm fine. Thank you."
<br>

"As you wish."
<br>

He couldn't be more friendly and caring. Cleo thought.
Was that suspicious in itself? But she moved so easily around
the house. She knew where everything was. She knew that
the TV reception was poor. She could have tried the set before
she'd arrived. Looked around the house to see what
was there. Her hair was dyed. That wasn't a crime. But
on Christmas Eve?
<br>

Cleo looked across at Rachel. She was smiling at her. Cleo
smiled weakly back. That Bastard Richard. Finding him
fucking that bitch like that had prevented her thinking
clearly. How did she allow herself to end up in a situation
like this? She found herself standing up and walking to
the window. Pulling open the curtains slightly she looked
out. The snow had stopped falling and the sky above was clear
of clouds. The stars twinkled brighter then she could ever
remember seeing them before. She could see the shadows
cast by the bright moonshine over the clean, freshly fallen
blanket of unbroken snow. She looked across to her right.
Past the old barn towards the steep path down which she had
come earlier. The snow was not unbroken in that direction
and she gave an involuntary gasp. She could clearly see
a set of footprints leading down the side of the building.
She almost jumped out of her skin as Rachel moved silently
to her side.
<br>

"What's wrong?" Rachel asked.
<br>

Cleo could feel the warmth of Rachel's body as she moved
closer to her and looked out of the window following the
direction of Cleo's eyes. She felt Rachel stiffen
by her side and gasp.
<br>

Large snowflakes started to fall again as the light from
the moon was suddenly cut off as if somebody had clicked
a switch. It looked cold and dark out there.
<br>

The two women looked at each other.
<br>

"Somebody's out there."
<br>

Rachel could hardly speak the words.
<br>

"What should we do?" Cleo asked leaning her
head against the cold windowpane and straining her ear
to catch any sound from outside.
<br>

"I don't know." Rachel replied. Cleo looked
at her. She did seem really worried.
<br>

"How far is it to the nearest house?" Cleo asked.
She should know. She remembered playing in the old barn
when he was young.
<br>

"Less than a mile away." Rachel replied moving
closer.
<br>

Cleo found herself automatically placing an arm about
her shoulders and saying soothingly.
<br>

"Don't worry. We'll be all right. After
all there is two of us."
<br>

"Yes. And she is a small woman. She can't be any
bigger than me. I almost thought it was me they were describing
on the TV."
<br>

"But you don't have mousy hair."
<br>

"I do. I dyed it this evening as a surprise for Lesley
when she gets home. She always said I'd make a good red
head."
<br>

"She's right." Cleo found herself saying.
"It suits you."
<br>

"If we go upstairs we can look out of the windows at
the front and back of the house. We might see who's out
there."
<br>

"Good idea." Cleo said, following Rachel from
the room and up the narrow flight of stairs watching the
movements of her buttocks beneath her dressing gown.
<br>

Stop it. Cleo admonished herself. It had been years since
she had had anything like an affair with another woman.
She and her long time friend Marty, the daughter of a practice
member, had fooled around a bit at first. Feeling each other's
boobs in play. Examining each other's pussy's
during various stages of their development. Discussing
what it would be like to have a boy touch them. To let him push
his finger inside. To let them rub their clits until they
came. Until, that is, the day when, in the room they were
sharing at Marty's house, they had agreed to take turns
playing the role of the boy. She couldn't remember
who's idea it had been. It didn't matter anyway.
<br>

How nervous she had been yet how excited to feel Marty's
lips so soft and moist. To rub then, to prod them, to spread
them. To smell the heady aroma of an aroused female. And
when Marty had placed her hands behind her head and pulled
her face down towards her opening she hadn't resisted.
It had felt so right at the time. Instinctively she knew
exactly where to place her tongue. The places where she
most liked her own fingers to explore. And when Marty had
gone down on her. Such feelings and sensations as she had
never dreamed of before. Again and again that first night
they had played out their roles. Somehow acting the part
of a male lover freed them both of any guilt. They weren't
doing it. They were pretending to be somebody else.
<br>

They had always spent most weekends staying at each other's
houses. Jut good friends. Now their friendship had taken
on a new meaning. They would spend ages slowly bringing
each other to a peak of pleasure. Taking their time. How
different it was to be for both of them when they allowed
boys into their lives. A quick fingering to open them up
then the bulbous head of a cock at their openings.
<br>

"I said."
<br>

Cleo shook her head to clear it of the image of Marty's
bushy mound and rich pink slit.
<br>

"Sorry." Cleo realised they were in the main
bedroom. A pretty room. A woman's room. "I was
miles away."
<br>

"There are no footprints at the front of the building."
Rachel said, staring out. "Let's try the spare
bedroom."
<br>

Cleo followed behind Rachel into a smaller room filled
with odds and ends of furniture and boxes. Some were opened
and some still waiting to be unpacked. Cleo stood close
behind Rachel and looked out over her shoulder. It looked
as if there were two sets of footprints leading to the old
barn. Cleo remembered a story Jenny had told her one evening
over a bottle or two of wine about how her friend Linda had
been brutally in that barn and how she had been molested
herself. Jenny would never go back in there. She'd
even tried to get Paul to buy the property and pull it down.
It had been one of the few times Paul had not given in to her.
He had said that just because something evil happens in
a building it doesn't mean that the building is evil.
<br>

Two sets of tracks were heading in and both recent. Why no
tracks out? Had it been summer then you could imagine two
lovers sneaking inside.
<br>

What was that coming from the rear of the building? Smoke.
<br>

"What do you keep in there?" Cleo asked.
<br>

"Nothing at the moment." Rachel replied. "It's
full of old farm machinery and straw bales. Hey. It's
on fire."
<br>

A they watched the smoke was increasing. A small dark figure
left the building and glanced in their direction before
heading towards the steep path. They waited for the expected
second person to appear.
<br>

Nobody came out.
<br>

"We've got to go and check there is nobody still
in the Barn." Cleo said.
<br>

"But."
<br>

"We have to hurry."
<br>

They could both see the reddish glow building up inside
the open door of the Barn.
<br>

"Come on." Cleo urged. "We have to check."
<br>

"Let me put some clothes on." Rachel said letting
her robe drop to the floor and opening a drawer.
<br>

How many backside had she seen, Cleo thought, and yet she
had to look. High, tight and round. She could just make out
the odd wisp of hair between her legs as she lifted one foot
after the other into a pair of knickers and jeans. Rachel
turned to face her as she pulled a jumper over her head. Her
breasts were high and firm. Her nipples proud and erect.
<br>

"There, " said Rachel, slipping her feet into
a pair of closed toed shoes, "that didn't take
long. Did you enjoy the view?"
<br>

"What?" Cleo stammered. "I didn't.
I wasn't."
<br>

"Don't forget. I am a fully paid up member of the
Lesbian fraternity. Besides there is a mirror on the back
of the dressing table. Don't look so worried. I won't
tell anybody."
<br>

Rachel smiled and slowly drew her fingers down the side
of Cleo's face and down further still, over the mound
of her breast.
<br>

"But." Was all Cleo could think of to say as Rachel
led the way down the stairs. Rachel hesitated at the back
door for a moment and looked over her shoulder at Cleo.
<br>

"Do you think it's safe?"
<br>

"I'm sure the other person has gone, if that's
what you mean."
<br>

Don't talk about it, she thought. We'll talk ourselves
out of going.
<br>

"Alright." Rachel said, throwing the bolts,
opening the door a crack and peering out.
<br>

Without another word she suddenly opened the door and,
stepping outside, headed to the barn.
<br>

Cleo followed. It was fairly mild. That could mean more
snow. Yes, large flakes were starting to fall.
<br>

They both stopped at the door of the barn. Cleo could hear
somebody moaning and looked inside. The building was filling
with smoke and she could see some old straw bails mouldering
at the back of the barn. Occasionally flames would leap
up then die back as if they weren't yet in charge. Water
was dripping from the roof. The groan again.
<br>

A figure was lying on its face in the first stall. It was wearing
a black coat with bright yellow markings.
<br>

"It's a policeman." Rachel said, coughing.
<br>

They knelt down on either side of the figure and turned him
onto his back. Cleo could see a small trickle of blood running
down in front of one ear. She followed it with her fingers
until she came to a small lump under his hair. He moaned as
she touched it.
<br>

"What?" He coughed, struggling to sit up.
<br>

"Are you able to move?" Cleo asked, the smoke
was leaving an acid taste at the back of her throat.
<br>

The Doctor in her said keep the patient still until you have
ascertained the full extent of his injuries. Everything
else inside her knew they had to get away from the fire and
smoke and quickly.
<br>

"Help me stand." The Policeman said, holding
out an arm.
<br>

With Rachel and Cleo on either side supporting him he staggered
to his feet. He swayed a bit at first then allowed them to
help him out of the barn into the suddenly cold night air.
Cleo could feel 'goose bumps' popping out on her
naked legs. At the back door to the house he asked them to
stop and reaching inside his coat pulled out the combined
speaker and microphone to his radio. They could hear a voice
repeating over and over, "Four eight. Four eight.
Come in. Are you receiving me? Four eight. Four eight. Come
in please."
<br>

"This is four eight." The Policeman gasped
into the handset. "I am at the old Watson farm. Somebody
attacked me. Wait."
<br>

He turned to the two women.
<br>

"Did you see anybody?" He asked.
<br>

"Yes." Rachel replied. "We saw a figure
running away from the barn towards the path up the hill."
<br>

"Hallo this is four eight." The policeman spoke
again into his handset. "The suspect was seen heading
towards Knowle Hill."
<br>

"Thank you four eight." The voice replied.
"Do you require any assistance."
<br>

"There is a barn on fire. We need the fire brigade."
<br>

"Roger four eight."
<br>

Rachel had opened the door to the house and the policeman
followed them into the kitchen. Cleo examined his head
whilst Rachel made fresh coffee. The policeman kept looking
out at the barn as if gauging the hold the fire had taken whilst
telling them a little of Roberta Long and her love of starting
fires.
<br>

It was fifteen minutes before they heard the sounds of police
sirens approaching in the distance. They all went to the
front door and stepped outside. A procession of vehicles
were coming slowly towards them headed by a yellow lorry
with a snow plough fitted to the front and flashing orange
lights followed by the more familiar blue and red lights
of the police and fire brigade.
<br>

"You'd be waiting until this time next year for
the council to send a lorry to clear away the snow on a road
like this normally." Rachel observed ruefully.
"It's amazing what having a policeman in your
house can do."
<br>

The vehicles pulled up to a halt outside and the policeman
reported to his Sergeant whilst the Fireman attacked the
fire in the barn.
<br>

Cleo felt Rachel's hand on her hip and turned her head
to look down into her face.
<br>

"You're not going to leave me here alone tonight,
are you?" Rachel asked.
<br>

Cleo didn't answer. Now the question had been asked
what should she say?
<br>

She stalled.
<br>

"I think we had better make some more coffee."
<br>

But she didn't remove Rachel's hand as they walked
back into the house.
<br>

It was an hour before the fire chief announced he was happy
that there was no further risk from the fire in the barn.
An hour, during which word was received that Roberta Long
had been apprehended in Chipping Marsden.
<br>

The policeman came back to the house as the firemen were
packing up.
<br>

"We have somebody on the radio wanting to speak to
you." He smiled at Cleo.
<br>

"Who is it?" Cleo asked, following him to the
Land Rover.
<br>

"It's your friends the Wagstaffe's."

<br>

Cleo took the offered handset from the policeman behind
the steering wheel.
<br>

"Hallo." She said into the mouthpiece.
<br>

"Hallo Cleo." A woman's voice answered.
"We've been so worried. How are you? Shall we
come and get you?"
<br>

"I'm fine, thanks Jenny." Cleo relied,
she was suddenly conscious of Rachel standing by her side.
This was it. Decision time. "No. Don't collect
me. I'll spend the night here."
<br>

The words came out before she even had time to think them.
Cleo felt Rachel move in closer, her hand rested on her hip
then moved down to her ass cheek. It squeezed gently.
<br>

"The police found your hire car after a man reported
being attacked by a woman." Jenny spoke quickly.
"The police contacted Richard and he contacted us
and we contacted the police. Well I must go. Paul sends his
love. You are sure you'll be all right?"
<br>

"Yes. I'm sure. I'll see you in the morning."
<br>

The line went dead.
<br>

"Are you sure you don't want a lift somewhere?"
The policeman asked, looking from one to the other.
<br>

"We will be fine." Rachel assured him.
<br>

They stood close together in the doorway and waved to the
departing vehicles. Rachel closed the door and led Cleo
by the hand to the foot of the stairs.
<br>

"Time for bed." She said.
<br>

Cleo hesitated for a moment then followed Rachel up the
stairs and into the front bedroom. Rachel switched on a
bedside table light and pulled the curtains. Cleo stood
still by the side of the bed arms dangling by her side. She
didn't think she could move even if she wanted to.
<br>

Rachel stood in front of her and ran her fingers slowly and
so lightly down the side of Cleo's face. Then down again.
This time closing around her breast and squeezing it gently
through her jumper, blouse and bra. Reaching up with her
other hand Rachel placed it behind Cleo's head and
pulled her mouth down, meeting her lips with her own. At
first Cleo tensed then she slowly relaxed and allowed her
lips to part to allow the entry of Rachel's tongue.
She tensed again as Rachel's hand slid down her spine
and cupped one of the cheeks of her ass. Then she moved it
back up, pulling her jumper with it. As Rachel pulled her
lips away Cleo lifted her arms above her head. Her jumper
fell to the floor. Cleo looked down as Rachel' nimble
fingers undid the buttons on her blouse and pushed it back,
off her shoulders and down her arms. As it fell to the ground
to join her jumper Rachel's fingers deftly released
the clasp of Cleo's bra. As it joined the growing pile
of her clothing Cleo reached out and lifted Rachel's
jumper over her head. For a second they looked at each other's
breasts then kissed again. Their breasts squashed flat
with their hardening nipples pressing into one another.
Without releasing their kiss their fingers fumbled with
each other's skirt fastenings and knicker elastic
until Cleo felt the soft, but wiry feeling of Rachel's
pubic mound pressing against her own. Automatically their
hands felt each other's ass cheeks. Pulling them apart
then pushing them together. Cleo gasped out loud as Rachel's
finger slid slowly between her ass cheeks and came to rest
on her anus. She gasped again as it slowly explored each
fold of skin around her tightly closed hole then moved further
down until it just touched the start of her slit.
<br>

Cleo groaned her disappointment as Rachel released her
and stepped back. Then Rachel turned and pulled open the
covers on the bed.
<br>

"Come on." She said, taking Cleo's hand
and sliding across into the middle of the bed.
<br>

As Cleo lay on her back Rachel leaned over her, her nipples
brushing her own and switched off the light. For a few second
the darkness was total then the room lightened to the glow
from the moon outside. Cleo could see the outline of Rachel's
head above her and lifted her own until their lips touched.
Tongues fencing and probing Cleo felt one of Rachel's
hands close around her breast. Rachel lifted her mouth
from Cleo's and lowered it to her nipple licking it
gently with her tongue then sucking it between her lips.
<br>

Instinctively Cleo opened her legs and lifted her hips
from the bed as Rachel released her nipple and moved slowly
down her body. Running her fingers through Rachel's
hair as she explored her navel with her tongue. Pulling
her knees up to her breasts as Rachel moved between her legs.
Crying out loud as her tongue entered her pussy.
<br>

Cleo found it hard to catch her breath as Rachel sucked on
her pussy lips then pushed her tongue deep inside her again.
Even harder to breathe when she moved to her clit and sucked
it out from it's cover. Her entire body went rigid as
her first orgasm ripped through her; it was quickly followed
by a second then a third. Each one more intense than the last.
Rachel licked and sucked on her clit gentler yet more insistently
than anybody before, including Marty. Cleo peaked again
as Rachel pushed first one then a second finger into her.

<br>

Cleo collapsed back onto the pillows as Rachel moved away
from her, pulling her fingers from her hole. She blinked
as the bedside light on the far side of the bed was switched
on and Rachel fumbled for something inside the bedside
cupboard.
<br>

Cleo gasped out loud when she saw what she was holding in
her hand as she turned back to face her. Amidst a tangled
mass of straps and buckles she held a large black penis shaped
dildo. Before she could lower and close her legs Rachel
had moved to kneel between them and started to fit the straps
around her waist and thighs.
<br>

Seeing the look on Cleo's face Rachel said.
<br>

"Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you."

<br>

Looking down at Cleo's open pussy she made some adjustments
to the straps. When she was satisfied she moved forward.
Cleo could feel the head of the dildo pressing against her
pussy. Knocking at her door.
<br>

"Help me in." Rachel said brushing Cleo's
lips with own. "Please."
<br>

Sensing a need she didn't understand in Rachel Cleo
found herself reaching down between her legs and holding
open her pussy lips as she guided the head of the dildo between
them as she had done for Richard's cock less then twenty
four hours earlier. She hadn't gasped for him as she
did for Rachel as she thrust the dildo deep inside her. Rachel
pulled back and thrust again and again forcing the breath
from Cleo. She gasped again and wrapping her arms around
Rachel's back lifted her hips from the bed to meet her
thrusts. Thrusts that increased in pace. Cleo could feel
herself building to another orgasm as she heard and felt
Rachel come.
<br>

"Don't stop." Cleo almost begged as Rachel
paused to catch her own breath.
<br>

"I won't." Came the breathless reply.
<br>

Rachel started moving again. Long slow strokes, slowly
building the tempo. Better then any man Cleo had ever had.
Rachel knew when to slow to allow a wave of pleasure to run
over her then to catch it at its peak and carry it on to the
next wave. Cleo could hear the subtle changes in Rachel's
breathing as she approached her own orgasm. Her own come
seemed to trigger it as with a strangled cry Rachel collapsed
forward on top of her the dildo still deep inside her. It
seemed an age before either moved then Rachel pulled the
dildo out of her and sat back on her heels and looked down
onto her body. Her eyes travelled up to Cleo's face
and they both smiled.
<br>

"I wish I'd been born with one of these."
Rachel said, holding the base of the dildo and waving it
from side to side.
<br>

"You could have been." Cleo replied, with feeling.
<br>

"Did you like it?"
<br>

"Yes." Cleo replied hesitantly then with more
confidence as she realised that Rachel cared whether she
actually had enjoyed it. She'd been asked the question
before by men after they had fucked her but she had known
they were more seeking re-assurance about their own performances
then any genuine concern about her. She also realised that
perhaps they weren't alone in wanting that. "It
was great. Really good. I've never felt anything like
it before."
<br>

Had she overdone the praise?
<br>

Rachel's smile as she lay down by her side, the dildo
pressing against her thigh, told her it was worth it.
<br>

Rachel switched off the light and they held each other in
silence. Watching the moonlight lighten the room then
fade as a cloud obscured its face.
<br>

It was full daylight when Cleo next opened her eyes. Rachel
had a finger inside her that she was gently swirling around.
Cleo smiled. A lazy, half-asleep smile. She felt so warm,
so comfortable. This was her favourite time with Richard.
The long, slow early morning fuck.
<br>

Cleo reached down for the dildo which was still fixed around
Rachel waist and pulled her on top of her by it. Holding herself
open she guided it inside her. Wrapping her arms and legs
around Rachel as she moved it in and out. It felt so good.
So right.
<br>

She could feel the pressure building inside her. Building
with every movement Rachel made. She cried out gently as
she came.
<br>

Rachel stopped and looked down at her face. They both smiled.
<br>

"You Bastard. You bitch."
<br>

Rachel leapt from the bed tearing the dildo from her hole.
<br>

In the doorway stood a woman. A very pretty woman. She was
shaking with rage.
<br>

"It's not what you think Lesley." Rachel
stammered the dildo, glistening with Cleo's lubricant,
sticking out from her body.
<br>

"You Bastard. You Bitch." Lesley repeated.
"So this is what happens every time I turn my back?"
<br>

Cleo recognised the words she used. She'd used the
same ones the day before.

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