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Another One Bites The Dust

By LimeyLady

Copyright Mark C Woolridge (writing as LimeyLady), 2017

Distributed by Smashwords

All characters and events in this publication,

other than those clearly in the public domain,

are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons,

living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Chapter One - Going to the Game

Chapter Two - The Big Match

Chapter Three - Hunting Maid Marian

Chapter Four - Caught by the Sheriff

Chapter Five - Escape!

Author’s Note

Other Books by LimeyLady

Chapter One

It was a spring Wednesday in 1997 and there was a feeling of finality in the air. At least there was for upper sixth students at Angie’s school. With A-level exams imminent lessons were coming to an end. Leave of absence for revision started the coming Monday. Some teachers had already taken their last class and chance to wish everyone well for the future. Even the endless stream of eighteenth birthday parties was starting to dry up.

They were exciting times then, yet sad ones too. The students had become adults in their two years of sixth form, but now the sands had almost run out on them. After Monday a lot of long-familiar faces wouldn’t be seen again until Results Day. And after the results were out most would be off to live their new lives in halls of residence across the land.

Two years of the closest friendships scattered on the wind.

Angie hadn’t made many close friends during her time at school but she wasn’t immune to the general melancholy. She had a good thing going, what with a couple of beautiful lovers and sexual energy to burn. It would be a wrench to leave them. And it would be a wrench to leave the school and her daily routines. Suddenly even the schoolmates who got on her nerves seemed to have redeeming features.

Well, most of them did, anyway.

Exams weren’t a major concern to Angie, imminent or not. She’d always been a good student, exams didn’t faze her. In her mind she’d as good as passed already. She’d got A-stars in all of her GCSEs; these latest tests were just chance to repeat that success at a higher level.

Yes, entry to her university of choice was virtually guaranteed.

Not that she was an entirely worry-free zone.

Right now Angie wished she was as proficient and confident personally as she was academically. No, she wasn’t lacking in any way in her two “romances”; she was on edge because she was alone with a girl who blatantly admired her.

Make that yet another beautiful girl who blatantly admired her!

In keeping with the finality theme the two of them were on their way to watch a football match. And it really was a final. To cap a successful season, the school’s “women’s” soccer team had won the right to contest the county cup decider. That was the good news. The bad news was that their opponents tonight were the unbeaten league champions who scored goals for fun.

Local bookmakers hadn’t taken any interest. If they had the “reds” would have been odds-on over the “blues”.

Still it wasn’t the winning that mattered, was it? It was the taking part.

Angie took a moment to assess Suzanne. Together with Liz, Suzanne made up the sixth form’s first lesbian pairing. Together with Sandra, Angie made up a more recent lesbian duo. They’d been seen as an item since Sandra stayed with her over Easter, shagging for most of a fortnight while Angie’s parents were sunning themselves in Lanzarote. Okay, they’d openly flirted long before then, but that spell of cohabiting sealed the deal in the eyes of their contemporaries.

If only everything was so simple!

Sandra and Liz were both fixtures in the school first team. Angie and Suzanne were obliged to attend their biggest match ever by virtue of being “WAGs”. And, although the school had provided free buses for anyone and everyone interested in watching, Suzanne had arranged a loan of her mum’s car.

(Isn’t it amazing how it’s always Mum’s car, Dad’s never enters the equation, does it?)

The final was being held after school at a neutral ground: one that belonged to a professional football league team based twenty-odd miles out of town. The plan was for Suzanne and Angie to travel there together, to spectate and applaud and then travel back with Liz and Sandra in tow. The possibility of stopping to celebrate/commiserate in a pub on their way home was very much on the cards.

Problem was that Suzanne openly fancied Angie . . . and Liz was suitably jealous.

Angie blamed herself to some extent. That is to say, she’d made a policy decision to abandon her bra back in January. Secretly, that had been because she didn’t do sexy clothes and bras looked like crap on her. She was six feet tall, weighed over thirteen stones and, though totally fat-free, built like a guy.

That was except for her tits.

But how was a brassiere ever going to look cute on her!

Never was the answer, so out the window they all went, not ever to be seen again.

And cue a transformation. Bra-less, her tits had stopped traffic. Suddenly guys and gals were paying her an astonishing amount of attention.

Suzanne had been among the first to notice. Already kittenish, she’d been drooling ever since.

And to be honest, Angie had appreciated her appreciation.

Suzanne was tallish, not remotely like a guy and had medium-length red-blonde hair. She was totally different to Sandra (tall, black and a cross between an Olympic athlete and a Somali supermodel) and Angie’s secret older woman (a thirty-something lookalike of Brigitte Bardot). But however you tried to assess her, Suzanne was seriously fit.

Sometimes Angie wondered how she did it. Discounting the wonderful bone structure of her face (and the bounciness of her tits, of course), she rated herself as utterly unattractive. Yet gorgeous women were after her all of the time. She’d even had approaches from men!

‘That’s a bit of Sherwood Forest,’ said Suzanne, pointing to their left.

‘Really,’ said Angie. ‘I thought that was on the other side of the football ground.’

‘That’s the tourist attraction,’ Suzanne replied. ‘This bit’s smaller but just as original. If we had time we could take a detour and look for Robin Hood.’ She laughed. ‘Or would you rather go looking for Maid Marian?’

‘Maybe I would,’ Angie conceded, ‘but that only makes us quits, doesn’t it?’

‘Knowing my luck I’d end up with Little John.’ Suzanne laughed again.

Then, untypically serious: ‘You went out with Bobby for quite a while, didn’t you?’

Angie watched trees and countryside pass them by. ‘Yes,’ she said carefully, ‘I did.’

‘Did you . . . You know?’

‘Did I what?’

‘Did you fuck with him, sweetheart, what else?’

Up until then Angie had never revealed anything about any lover. And Bobby had been experimental, to say the least.

Not that she was ashamed about anything sexual in any way.

‘I don’t tittle-tattle,’ she said. ‘Ask Bobby, not me.’

Suzanne laughed yet again. ‘He doesn’t tittle-tattle about you. He’s a real gent. But we girls confide at will, don’t we? Sandra gives you the most incredible references. So give me something about Bobby.’

‘I didn’t think you’d want to know gritty details.’

Suzanne was silent for a minute . . . an event in itself. ‘I’ve only ever been with Liz,’ she said finally. ‘So I’m a virgin as far as men are concerned. I haven’t even kissed one with any real intent. I just . . . Well, I just sort of wondered.’

Angie stared out of the side window, seeing the thick knot of woodland vanishing behind them.

‘I was intrigued,’ she said eventually. ‘I’ve never really been interested in men, but Bobby has always been nice to me. I suppose it was flattered when he made a move. So yes, I went out with him.’

‘And did you fuck with him?’

‘Of course I did. I needed to know what it was like. I needed to know what I was missing. So yes, I did fuck with him. And we did it on numerous occasions, if you must know.’

‘What was it like?’

‘Okay,’ Angie admitted. ‘It was . . . cosy, in a lot of ways. It was friendly and warm. I enjoyed it.’

‘Is it better than . . .’

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