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Happiest Days

By LimeyLady

Copyright Mark C Woolridge (writing as LimeyLady), 2018

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

Author’s note

Chapter One - Jacqui’s video

Chapter Two - Sharing a room

Chapter Three - True Confessions

Chapter Four - Overlook Mountain

Chapter Five - Promises

Chapter Six - A studious Sunday

Other Books by LimeyLady

Author’s Note

Although they are still very much “schoolgirls”, all the characters in this story are definitely over the age of eighteen.

Chapter One

(Tuesday 15th September 1998)

Heather ignored the first nudge and kept watching the video, afraid of missing some vital twist in the plot. Not that Mary Rose was so easily ignored. She gave Heather another nudge then gave her a dig in the ribs . . . hard.

‘What?’ Heather hissed.

Mare nodded to her left, as if something was worth seeing, but Heather couldn’t work out what. The room was dark, for one thing. And so far as she could tell, everyone else was glued to the action, like she wanted to be.

She shrugged and carried on watching the film. There were four of them at it now: two men with rather similar-looking blondes. The storyline, as far as it went, was that Hubby had come home to find the blondes having it off with the postman. It wasn’t immediately obvious which was Hubby’s wife but that did not seem to matter. Instead of creating a scene he’d simply ripped off his clothes and joined in.

And he had the most enormous willy; it couldn’t possibly be real. She simply had to see it again.

Warm breath in her ear preceded Mary Rose’s whisper.

‘Look at Daphne and Madeleine. They’re holding hands.’

Now she knew what she was looking for Heather could see Mary Rose was correct . . . as per just about always.

Except “holding hands” wasn’t the all of it. There was more going on than mere hand-holding.

So it’s true, Heather thought. Those two really are special friends.

The film ended half an hour later, exactly when the bell rang signalling ten minutes until Lights-out.

‘Okay,’ Jacqui cried, clapping her hands. ‘That’s your lot for tonight, ladies. Let’s have you back in your own rooms, vibrators at the ready.’

‘Can I borrow your batteries please, Madeleine?’ Mary Rose smiled sweetly. ‘Mine have gone flat. And you probably won’t need yours.’

‘No chance,’ Madeleine replied. She was blushing but unbowed. ‘You’ll have to settle for Creepy’s tongue, like you do every other night.’

Mary Rose made exaggerated choking noises. ‘Please . . . anything but Creepy’s tongue!’

‘What about her big toe instead?’

‘Please Mads . . . anything but Creepy!’

Cackling, the crowd of teenagers left Jacqui’s illicit picture palace, scattering back to their own quarters. Mary Rose’s room was close to Heather’s so they didn’t need an excuse to walk side by side. As soon as they were out of sight they held hands and swapped shameless grins.

‘What did you think about that?’

‘Not too shabby,’ said Heather. ‘Jacqui’s offerings get better and better. I don’t know where she finds them all.’

‘Not the video, silly, I meant Mads and Daffy. I told you, didn’t I? You don’t have to be at university to go all the way.’

‘Oh, that. Well, they were hardly going all the way, were they?’

‘I bet they’ll be at it as soon as they’re alone.’ Mary Rose’s eyes flashed. ‘It’s not fair they get to share and we don’t. We should make Creepy move in with Tanya, so you can move in with me.’

‘Shush,’ said Heather as they stopped at her door. ‘Tanya will hear.’

‘I hope she does. It might make her do the decent thing.’

‘Please don’t, Mare. She’s really nice. I don’t want to upset her.’

‘You’re nice too,’ Mary Rose countered, ‘and as fit as a butcher’s dog. That’s why I want to go all the way with you. And a few hundred million times, not just once.’

Heather kissed her. It was all she could think of to shut her up. And they always kissed goodnight anyway, it was a sisterly thing, as well as very, very pleasant.

Mary Rose sighed as full Lights-out sounded. ‘I suppose I’ll have to be patient. Just remember you’ve promised to save yourself for me.’

‘Oh I’ll remember. I could hardly forget with you reminding me every two minutes, could I?’

‘No. And you’d better not even try to pretend.’ Mary Rose rubbed noses with her. ‘Night, night, Hev; I love you.’

Heather always tingled when her best-ever friend said that. She returned the nose-rub, smiling soppily. ‘Night, night, Mare; I love you too.’

Tanya was in bed with Nine Modern Poets. They had Yeats in next week’s exam and she found him hard going. She’d been cramming since netball practice and didn’t look anywhere near done.

‘Hi Hev,’ she said, barely glancing up. ‘Good film?’

‘Yes, it was another pound well spent. You’ll have to come along to the next one. Get a bit of excitement into your life.’

‘I don’t have time for excitement, just like I don’t have your photographic memory. I really struggle to get this. And that’s the bits I think I understand. Most of it goes way over my head. Do you mind if I keep going a little longer?’

‘No probs. I don’t think we’re going to get raided.’

Tanya chuckled and kept cramming. According to legend, Lights-out used to apply everywhere, with punishment for transgressors starting at execution and getting steadily worse. These days it applied to common passageways and the first and second year dormitories, but not to single and double rooms. The death penalty had been relaxed too. Execution now only applied to third-time offenders; second-timers were thrown in the school dungeons while first-timers were merely flogged.

Heather looked at herself in the mirror as she undressed. She hated vain people but Mare was right: she was as fit as a butcher’s dog, and strikingly pretty with it. Some folk even said she was bewitching. Her eyes were as green as Mary Rose’s, if not nearly so wicked, and her long, jet-black hair and never-fading tan made her intriguing and exotic.

She knelt at the foot of her bed and prayed, thanking God for her good fortune and asking Him to forgive her sins, especially vanity, promising to keep it as best she could to herself until it wore off altogether. Then she jumped between the sheets and called goodnight to Tanya before switching off her lamp.

‘Night,’ Tanya mumbled, still buried in her book.

Heather usually fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Tonight there was no chance. Her mind was filled with images from the video. She was going to have to get rid of them before she could possibly sleep. And, in the absence of one of Jacqui’s mythical vibrators, that was going to take a lot of will-power.

Chapter Two

As she surveyed shadows on the ceiling Heather marvelled at how she’d ended up here, at one of England’s most elite educational establishments.

Me! Enrolled at The Manor School For Young Ladies!

More to the point, she marvelled at how smoothly she’d fitted in. It sometimes seemed as though she’d arrived only yesterday, scared and excited, wondering how she’d find her way through the maze of corridors and if she’d struggle to make friends. But everyone had been really nice. Once she’d got to grips with all the names she’d been completely at ease. Her first year (in the school’s third year) had whizzed by; it was nearly over already.

And not a mangel-wurzel wisecrack to be heard.

Heather had been brought up on Hunters Farm, in that bit of darkest West Yorkshire where nature starts to take over from brick and concrete. All her early memories were of the sights and sounds of countryside, the very first being one of a horse foaling. By the time she was thirteen she could wring chicken necks, climb every tree and run faster and farther than any boy she’d ever met. Most of her waking hours had been spent outdoors, innocently acquiring that never-fading tan. Her life had been wonderful. She hadn’t stopped to wonder why Dad worked brutally long days then spent his evenings frowning over piles of paperwork.

Thirteen had been when it changed. Up until thirteen her only concern had been the lack of a sister to share all the fun. She’d been born at home and there had been complications. That was tough on Mum, who came from a big family and had been intending to have five or six children. Tough maybe, but at least they’d both survived. Lots of births didn’t end well at all. Heather had delivered her first lamb when she was eight and seen her first wrong ‘un long before then. If nothing else, farming had taught her that giving birth was a risky business. She was going to avoid it herself if she could. Else save it until she was pushing forty, with nothing left to lose.

Life altered forever one sunny Thursday evening. Mum and Dad had sat her down at the kitchen table and told her that, after six generations of Hunters, the debts were finally too much. The choice was to stay and go under, or sell. They were telling her because she was the seventh generation in its entirety and everything was supposed to pass to her. If she wanted them to stay then stay they would, and damn the consequences. They had, however, found a lovely new house in Kettlewell. And they’d had an offer on Hunters Farm that would ensure money would never be a problem again.

Looking back Heather was surprised how well she’d taken it. Although she loved the farm she’d suddenly realized she had no desire to be a farmer. Starting fresh hadn’t seemed the only option; it had seemed far and away the best option . . . as long as they could take Gyp, Dad’s sheepdog and Patch, her pony. When she’d been assured they were included in the plan it was easy to strike a bargain.

At Mum’s insistence, she’d agreed to the private school.

At her insistence, Dad had agreed to stay in charge of the money.

And at Dad’s insistence . . . well, he’d just been glad the womenfolk agreed it was right to move on.

They hadn’t been debating five minutes before they were spitting on it and committed to new beginnings. Heather could remember thinking the private school sounded cool if a little daunting, but looking forward already, sure she’d do well. Thoughts of control of the money had been even more daunting. It seemed far better to keep everything in one family pot. She could always inherit anything left over later, preferably two hundred years down the line.

Seeing her dad’s face after the three of them shook hands had given her the best-ever feeling. After a moment of sadness, when the tough old so-and-so looked like he might actually shed a tear, he must have thought about his bank balance. More probably he’d thought about his piles of red bills, blowing away on the wind. Ten years of worries fell from him in less than one second. He had looked younger, taller and even stronger. She would never regret her part in that decision as long as she lived.

Not ever, ever.

Coming to The Manor meant that Kettlewell hadn’t really become home for her, but her parents settled in overnight, along with Patch and Gyp, of course. The “new” house (which had been built in the eighteenth century) had a quite enormous garden . . . big enough to keep Dad busy for all of a fortnight.

By the start of the third week he was doing casual farm-labouring around the village and, by the end of the first month, he was helping out fulltime. If asked, he would tell folk he felt guilty working as few as fifty hours with Sundays off, and guiltier still at surrendering to house builders when he still had a living breath in his body. He would also mutter darkly about “damn supermarkets”, saying they were all plotting to grind honest farmers into the dust.

In other words Dad shared the same opinions and spoke the same language as the locals. Mum fitted in just as well. The fact they were country people helped, obviously, but not nearly as much as the fact they’d moved there wanting to fit in. Too many properties in those parts had been snapped up by townies as holiday homes, driving house prices up and youngsters away.


Tanya clicked off her light without calling goodnight. She must have thought Heather was already asleep. Lost in thoughts of her own, Heather didn’t correct her.

Her roommate was a lovely girl but she worried too much. These school-year-end exams weren’t important in the scheme of things, yet poor Tanya was treating them as if they were make or break. And it wasn’t as if she was bottom of the class or anything; she was in the top five in every subject. If she could only recognize how good she was, lighten the intensity . . .

Heather wasn’t much of a worrier. Starting “late” she’d assumed she would be behind the girls who had been here for years one and two. She’d soon realized that wasn’t irretrievably the case and relaxed, easing into a new life where she was always in the top three in every subject.

Her concerns about making friends had been settled even sooner. That very first morning, after her parents had deposited her, she’d been shown to her room and introduced to Tanya. She had then been left alone to unpack. Seconds later, before homesickness could properly kick in, there had been a knock on the door. It was Mary Rose, eager to meet her.

‘You look lots more interesting than the other newbies,’ she’d said. ‘Don’t shilly-shally about with them. Stick with me. I know everything there is to know about this place. I’ll show you the ropes.’

Mary Rose turned out to be just two days older than Heather. She was incredibly beautiful with reddish-auburn hair and the world’s most mischievous grin. Her skin was flawless and her body could have been stolen out of Playboy. Goodness only knew what she’d be like in a year or so; every last inch of her already reeked of sex.

Initially, until they really got to know each other, Heather had been overawed by the stunning (self-proclaimed) redhead. Each day seemed to bring another revelation. When she took tally she realized that, academically, Mary Rose was always in the top one for every subject. On the sports field she captained every team and was always in the top two or three for every individual activity. Socially, she knew and liked everybody and was known and liked by everybody. She also knew the school and grounds like the back of her hand, swiftly teaching her new friend the quickest routes to all the best places. On the negative side . . . well, once a blue moon she might forget to wash her hockey socks. Otherwise she was perfect.

It had taken Heather a fortnight to come out of Mary Rose’s shadow. She did this by finishing top in the Wednesday morning maths test and then obliterating all opposition on the running track after lunch. Mary Rose had been slightly taken aback but not in the least offended. Still gasping for air after trailing in a distant second over eight hundred metres, she had said it was going to be good to have someone to push her a bit at long last. And then she’d invited Heather along to one of Jacqui’s illicit video showings, an honour only bestowed to the chosen few, and never before to a newbie.

That was when their relationship had moved up a notch.

Make that several notches.

One thing Heather learnt very early on at The Manor was this: her schoolmates never lied or exaggerated unless they were talking about sex.

And Mary Rose was, predictably, at the top of the class when it came to telling tall stories.

Talking after the video it seemed the redhead knew everything about every conceivable sex act. In fact she claimed to be highly experienced in every conceivable sex act, swearing she had a Sex Proficiency Badge as well as the ones The Manor issued for cycling and swimming. She proudly declared, ‘It’s the best fun you can have without laughing,’ and gave graphic accounts of imaginary sex she’d had with both boys and girls.

Boys were a must because their joysticks felt so good, she maintained. And girls had to be tried too, because they were much more passionate and skilful. Her enthusiasm for the subject was highly infectious.

Infectious and just a little bit scary.

At the time Heather had thought the stories were typical Mary Rose. Being outrageous was the girl’s answer to most situations. Not that she needed a situation; she used outrageousness as an opening gambit to test even the calmest waters.

Good grief, she’d even declared her undying love, adding it on as an afterthought to all those proficiency badges.

But she’d declared her love again later that same evening, when they’d kissed goodnight. And again the following evening, sounding less outrageous and more sincere each time, becoming quite believable.

She’d even rubbed noses on it, so it had to be true.

Chapter Three

(Wednesday 23rd September 1998)

Okay, we’re all grown women . . .’

Roz snorted and pushed out her boobs. ‘Some of us more than others,’ she said, ‘hello, boys.’

Jacqui didn’t like being interrupted, especially not by someone with the chest of a Page 3 girl. She glowered and went into her best Miss Whiplash mode.

‘Rosalinda, the only boys you’ll see this afternoon are going to be badly dubbed from Danish into English. If I let you stay and watch, that is.’

‘Sorry Miss.’ Roz grinned. ‘Please don’t send me to the dungeons. I want to stay and watch the girls playing with the boys.’

‘Behave then,’ Jacqui said severely. ‘And listen to what I have to say.’

The king-sized joint had made its way round the circle to Heather again. She had two big drags before passing it on to Toni. It seemed wonderfully sinful to be there, smoking the weed, ready for a screening of Jacqui’s latest, purportedly best-ever movie. This afternoon was lesson-free as it was reserved for sporting activities . . .

Well, supposedly. In real life outdoor sports just weren’t going to happen today. While the BBC was telling the world Britain was sweltering in the sun, their posh bit of Cheshire was being hit by a deluge of biblical proportions. A lot of the girls were taking the downpour as opportunity to swot for exams. Tanya was, of course. So, surprisingly, was Mary Rose, who for some reason had developed anxiety about German. Maybe she was afraid she’d only get ninety-nine per cent instead of her usual hundred and ten.

Heather was already as swotted up for next week’s exams as she had ever intended to be. And despite Tanya’s claims, she didn’t have a photographic memory. There was no point in memorizing last-gasp dates and facts now for tests a week away; she’d only forget them. Extra swotting at this stage might even mess up her carefully balanced revision plan.

Besides, she wanted to watch the girls playing with the boys as well.

‘The film lasts ninety minutes,’ Jacqui said. ‘And we’ve all afternoon, so I want to start with a game of True Confessions. If we remember we’re adults with nothing to be ashamed of, it’ll be great fun . . . and it’ll put us in the mood to watch hanky-panky. No arguments and no lying. The key to this game is in the name: True Confessions. Do you all understand that?’

‘Yes, Miss,’ they said in a ragged chorus.

‘Good. We’ll go round clockwise and I’m starting.’ Jacqui cleared her throat. ‘Right Daffy, what’s the naughtiest thing you’ve ever done with a guy?’


Two circuits later . . . two circuits of much exaggerated “confessions” and lengthy drags of weed . . . the onus was back on Daffy.

‘My turn to ask the big question,’ she began shamelessly. ‘I’ll keep this brief. One word answers only. Do you get turned-on by the girl-on-girl scenes in Jacqui’s videos?’

‘Yes,’ Madeleine said.

‘Yes,’ Heather said without hesitation.

‘Sometimes,’ said Toni, blushing furiously.

‘Always,’ said Roz.

‘Always,’ Jacqui agreed.

‘I’ll make it six out of six then,’ Daffy said. ‘Over to you, Mads.’

‘Two parts to this. Have you ever had sex with a girl? And, if not, do you ever intend to?’

It was Heather’s turn to answer first. ‘I haven’t gone all the way yet,’ she said carefully, ‘but I’m definitely going to.’

Toni’s blush hadn’t faded. ‘Not yet, but probably.’

‘Not yet,’ said Roz, ‘but definitely.’

The other three girls answered similarly, making Heather smile. It was strange, wasn’t it? They had all lied through their teeth about escapades with guys but spoken from the heart about gals.

‘My turn,’ she said. ‘When I told my aunt I was going to an all-girls’ school, she said it would turn me into a lesbian. She even said I’d end up with an extra A-level in Cunnilingus. I had to look that up to see what she meant. My question is: Was she right? Does coming here turn us all into lesbians?’

‘I don’t think there’s any danger of me becoming a proper lesbian,’ Toni replied. ‘Real, butch lesbians scare me. I might be a bit lipstick, because I find pretty girls attractive. But if I ever do try it, it won’t be anything to do with The Manor. It will be to do with me and the way I am.’

‘I like guys too much to be a proper lesbian,’ said Roz. ‘But I could easily be bisexual. And this place has made me grow up quicker. I probably wouldn’t be so close to taking the plunge if I hadn’t come here. Not that The Manor’s changed me; it’s just hurried me along.’

‘I possibly could become a lesbian.’ Jacqui wasn’t exactly flushing, although her cheeks were pinker than normal. ‘But I’m like Toni and Roz. It’s me, not anything they’ve done to me while I’ve been here.’

‘I think I might be institutionalized,’ Daffy said. ‘I read somewhere that sixty per cent of women in prison have lesbian relationships. That obviously includes bisexuals stuck for choice, but it has to include masses of straight women too; ones who’d stay straight if they weren’t locked up.’

‘I’ve read the same sort of thing,’ Roz put in, ‘but it’s all damned lies and statistics, isn’t it? These straight women have one kiss in the showers and some fiddling accountant bangs on another five per cent.’

‘Maybe so, but I bet sixty per cent isn’t so far off the percentage in our sixth form.’

‘Never mind what the actual percentages are, they’re enormously higher than the rest of the UK. So it does seem that institutions like schools and prisons foster lesbianism.’

‘And that’s a bad thing?’

‘No, not at all; it’s for the good.’

‘Maybe it is, in exceptional circumstances.’

‘What do you mean by “exceptional”?’

‘What do you think?’

‘Do you mean lack of choice?’

‘Yes and no.’

‘So please expand.’

‘As has been said, in prison there simply isn’t anyone else to have it off with. Here at The Manor it really is by choice. We aren’t always confined to our cells, are we?’

‘I sometime think I am.’

Madeleine had been listening to this exchange in silence. Heather suddenly realized the other girl was crying. Mads stood abruptly and, before anyone could say anything, she barged past Daffy and left the room.

‘Maddy . . .’ Daffy called. But too late; she was gone. ‘What got into her?’

‘I think she misunderstood what you were saying.’ Heather shrugged. ‘I think she might have thought you said . . . well, that you’re only so close because you share the same room for the last six years.’

‘D’oh!’ Daffy smacked herself on the forehead.

‘Let’s take a break,’ Jacqui said. She looked at her watch. ‘Roz can get snacks, Toni can get pop.’

‘What about me?’

‘You brought Mary Rose’s weed, Hev, so you’re fully paid up.’ Jacqui could be quite forceful when she wanted to be. She already had her guests on their feet and most of the way out into the corridor.

‘Okay then,’ she said, ‘back here for three, film rolling at five past. That should be enough time to kiss and make up, shouldn’t it, Daff?’

‘It’s long enough for some serious grovelling,’ Daffy conceded.

Heather was filing out with the others when Jacqui caught her arm, restraining her. Puzzled, she waited in silence until they were alone, watching the door get closed and locked.

‘Alone together at last,’ Jacqui grinned as she spoke.


‘You heard. I’ve been wondering how to get you away from your bit of skirt. And now I don’t have to wonder anymore.’

Heather didn’t seem able not to be kissed. She didn’t seem able not to be groped, either. She had always considered Jacqui very attractive and, passionately locked mouth-to-mouth, couldn’t think of any reason to revise her judgment.

Or maybe she was just weak and defenceless.

Whatever; the kiss was good, as was all that groping.

And good grief; was Jacque launching a panty raid?

Part of Heather’s brain panicked. A larger part was grateful she’d recently shaved. Last thing she wanted was to seem hairy and out-of-touch.

Talking about touching . . .

Maybe three minutes of direct attention and she came fiercely.

‘Both of us this time,’ said Jacqui, briefly breaking their kiss. ‘Do me while I do you.’

Still powerless to resist, Heather complied. And now her timing was less pathetic. Unless Jacqui was faking it they climaxed as one.

And it was hard, loud and glorious beyond belief.

Then the beautiful blonde was laughing throatily. ‘We have twenty minutes left and your choice of A-levels intrigues me. Do you want to lick my magic button?’

Heather instinctively knew what she meant and reflexively flinched. ‘I don’t know if I dare.’

Jacqui laughed some more.

‘No worries,’ she said. ‘In that case ill lick yours . . .’

Chapter Four

(Wednesday 30th September)

Overlook Mountain was in reality a medium-sized, flat-topped hill at the edge of the school grounds. It was quite a hike to get to the top but remained popular with students for several reasons. It was so far off the beaten track that teachers hardly ever went there, for one. And anyone on the little plateau was invisible from below, for another. That made it popular for topless sunbathing and perfect for anything illicit. Smoking; drinking . . . you name it, it had happened on Overlook. Also, as an added attraction, it had a bird’s-eye view into the grounds of the boys’ school next door.

‘This is where I saw them from,’ said Mary Rose. ‘They were down there to the left, by that big oak tree. Helena must have gone over the wall to meet him.’ The self-proclaimed redhead chuckled. ‘I’ve never seen anyone having it off against an oak tree before. And must be good; she had him twice.’

‘No sign of her today,’ Heather said drearily.

‘She’s probably still getting splinters out of her bum. They were really going at it. I’m surprised the bark hasn’t been stripped off. You know, like a bear’s been scratching his back.’

Heather glanced up at the sun. It was the fifth glorious day in a row. Last week’s monsoon had been consigned to the history books. Today the grass wasn’t only just dry enough to sit on; it was dry enough to use to start a fire.

‘I want to have it off against an oak tree,’ Mary Rose continued. ‘It’s gone to the top of my wish-list. I wonder how Helena set it up.’

‘Mare, I’ve something to tell you.’

‘Let me guess. We’re alone together, at last?’

Ouch, that hit a nerve!

‘No,’ said Heather, ‘not that. It’s . . .’

‘Shush. Whatever it is, it can wait.’ Mary Rose’s eyes were full of the usual mischief. ‘Let’s take advantage of each other while we can.’


Heather decided to keep her secret a little longer, passively letting herself be shoved onto her back. Resistance zero . . . as per always. She didn’t even think about objecting when deft fingers unfastened her school shirt and bra. Nor did she complain when caresses were replaced with kisses. It felt good. Mary Rose had caressed her boobs before (and so now had Jacqui, of course) but no-one had ever kissed them.

Or licked and nibbled them.

Her whole body rejoiced. It was as if molten pleasure was trickling through her.

Didn’t I once let the boy next door suck my nipples?

Or was that just in my wildest dreams?

Heather shuddered with delight. Her nipples were large to start with. When she was aroused they got very, very big. Right now they were bigger than ever. And hard! They were so hard they hurt, but in the most wonderful way.

I never suspected this would be so nice! Much more and I’ll erupt!

Mary Rose must have known. She squeezed one breast and rubbed briskly at the other, licking and nibbling all the while. Suddenly the molten pleasure was concentrated in Heather’s sex. The build-up of heat there was quick and enormous. She could only hold back a few moments before she ferociously orgasmed.

Good grief, how could that possibly be possible!

Mare really does have all the tricks of a witch!

Then, breathless and still enormously excited, it was Heather’s turn. She’d unfastened two of the other girl’s buttons before she realized something else was on the agenda.

‘We’ll be going home next month. This might be our last chance for a while.’ Mary Rose took hold of Heather’s hand and pulled it towards the forbidden territory of her knickers. Well, it had until very recently been forbidden territory.

Okay, Heather thought, making a beeline for Mary Rose’s magic button.

But that wasn’t what she wanted.

‘No,’ she said, pulling and guiding.

For a long moment they stared at each other, Heather so, so conscious of her friend’s desire.

‘Half-term seems like an eternity,’ Mary Rose said softly. ‘Please.’

There was no way she could be refused. Not by a two-timing rat of a best friend.

Besides, it’ll be another new adventure.

The video actresses seemed to take great care in making their partners wet. With Mare there was no need; she was absolutely sopping already. Heather explored her thoroughly (delicately and very, very patiently), wishing things were different so she could see as well as feel.

Never mind seeing, I want to taste.

The urge to take time and torment was immense.

Make her wait.

Somehow Heather resisted and traced a line along Mary Rose’s swollen, pouting lips before gently slipping a couple of fingers inside her, producing a heartfelt groan.

Good grief, she’s like an oven in there!

After pausing a moment to take in the baking hotness Heather began to move, using a rhythm she used on herself, one reserved for special occasions and based on Rose Royce’s Car Wash.

‘Yes,’ Mare moaned, ‘Oh, yes, Hev. Yes! Don’t stop . . . don’t stop ever.’

Mare was twisting and pulling at her beautiful auburn hair as it spilled over the grass. As Heather continued to stare down at her she gave back a small smile then closed her eyes and turned her head to one side. ‘Yes,’ she said, her mouth moving in profile. ‘Oh yes, Hev.’

Mare’s free arm had wrapped itself around Heather’s waist. She let out another little moan and began to gyrate the bottom half of her body in a way that seemed to cover up and down, left to right and in and out. Heather took this as further evidence of her vast experience. She was even more impressed when she realized that Mare had fallen in time with her special rhythm. Tentatively, she speeded up; within a second Mare was matching her again.

‘I’m going to cum soon,’ she purred. ‘My God, Hev, this is so good.

Heather could hear a liquid squelching in time with her pistoning fingers and became aware Mare had switched to pure in and out. And speeded up again? Good grief, so she had. It was a struggle to keep up. Her arm . . . not just her fingers or hand or wrist, her whole arm . . . felt as if it was about to drop off.

‘Oh yes, sweet Jesus! Yes!’

Mare bucked, writhed and wriggled like the raunchiest actress in the most explicit sex tape ever made. Her orgasm seemed to go on for hours, finally ending in a tiny scream.

‘Incredible,’ she gasped. ‘Honestly, Hev, you’re a natural. You just played me like a fiddle.’ She laughed. ‘Best fiddle I’ve ever had, come to think of it.’

Heather was waving her arm in the air, trying to get some life back into it. Giving up, she rolled away, curled up and hugged herself.

‘I think I overdid it,’ she said ruefully.

‘Speak for yourself, darling. I think you got it cock-on.’

‘My arm’s in agony.’

‘And I’m in raptures. Here . . . let me rub it better.’

They lay together in the sunshine, cuddling and occasionally kissing, until the sound of approaching voices sent them hastily rearranging their clothes.

Chapter Five

You look as good as gold,’ Mary Rose whispered as two other girls made it to the hilltop. ‘You’d pass any uniform inspection.’

‘It’s not the uniform inspection I’d fail,’ said Heather, trying not to giggle.

The newcomers were also from the upper sixth but not part of their inner circle. They glared at them a while before sitting on the grass, making sure they were as far away from them as possible.

‘Time we went.’ Mary Rose jumped up and pulled Heather to her feet. When they were out of earshot she said, ‘I know those two. They’ll be at it already. And they won’t settle for kisses like us. They do the lot.’

‘Mare, we hardly just settled for kisses!’

‘We did compared to that deadly duo. There’s no stopping them.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I’ve seen them on Overlook before, doing sixty-nine and all sorts. We can sneak back up and watch if you want.’

‘No!’ Heather was horrified to find the idea so attractive. ‘We can’t snoop. What they do together is private.’

‘No it’s not. Not if they do it where anyone can see them.’

‘What if someone had been spying on us?’

‘Nothing, that’s what, I’m not ashamed. Besides, we don’t have the choice, do we? Those two will probably share a room. If they need privacy they’ve got it just like that.’ Mary Rose clicked her fingers. ‘If you ask me, they want people to watch. Fucking au naturel turns them on.’

‘Well I’m not watching. It would be perverted.’

‘No it wouldn’t. It would be clean, healthy fun. And I should know. I’m a sex addict, but not a perverted one.’

Remorse came crashing down on Heather. ‘I must be a sex addict,’ she said miserably. ‘And I’m a perverted one at that. I just couldn’t stop myself, Mare. I’m so sorry.’

They’d reached the bottom of the hill. ‘Sorry for what?’

‘Last Friday, when you were cramming for German . . .’

‘Your little fling with Jacqui, you mean?’

Heather had been expecting surprise and contempt, not a cheerful grin.

‘How do you know?’

‘I know everything, remember?’ Mary Rose chuckled. ‘You were locked away with her for at least an hour. Then you canoodled throughout the film. And you held hands. Nothing escapes me. I’m the All-Seeing-Eye.’

Heather had to laugh. ‘You never let on.’

‘I didn’t see the need.’

‘And you don’t mind?’

‘No I don’t. I’m actually quite proud of you. Jacqui plays hard to get.’

‘She got me, not the other way around. That’s why I feel guilty. I was so easy.’

Mary Rose put her hands on Heather’s shoulders and rubbed noses. ‘Don’t call yourself easy for giving in to your urges. Men are always giving in to theirs. Nobody calls them easy. Why should it be any different when a girl gives in to the same urge?’

‘It’s not that. Not that at all. I wanted to stay faithful to you.’

‘Are you saying you did more than just kiss and canoodle?’

‘No, of course we didn’t! But kissing’s bad enough, isn’t it?’

‘That’s sweet.’ Mary Rose kissed her nose this time. ‘We need to talk about being faithful anyway. Half-term really is almost upon us. We should set rules. Agree what’s allowed when we’re apart, that sort of thing.’

‘I agree,’ said Heather. ‘I won’t even look at anyone else.’

‘Whoa! Not so hasty. We’ve got to allow each other some leeway. Two weeks apart is an awful long time.’

‘I know it is. I’ll be counting off the minutes.’

‘That’s even sweeter. But totally impractical.’

Mary Rose had that glint in her eye . . . the one that never failed to thrill her innocent friend.

‘Okay,’ Heather said as steadily as she could. ‘What do you suggest, Miss Practical?’

‘I suggest no girls but open season on guys.’

Heather snorted. Mare had obviously mapped this out in advance.

‘I’m going to regret asking, but what’s included in “open season”?’

‘Everything you can think of.’

Heather shook her head. ‘How did I just know you’d say that?’

Chapter Six

(Sunday 4th October)

Anne Bronte?’ Tanya didn’t look at all convinced.

‘I’m deeply involved with The Tenant of Wildfell Hall,’ Heather explained patiently. ‘It’s getting quite racy. You’ll have to go to without me.’

‘It’s about three hundred years old,’ her roommate countered. ‘And it’s not even on the syllabus.’

‘It’s a hundred and fifty years old. It’s essential background reading. And you never know; it might come up next year.’

‘And it’s racy?’

‘Well no, not particularly. But the heroine doesn’t half make a stand. Not that I blame her. It really was a man’s world in those days. Everything she had belonged to her husband, even money she earned for herself. Come to that, she belonged to her husband. She was classed as chattel.’

Tanya made a face. ‘We always go to chapel together on Sunday mornings.’

‘True,’ said Heather, ‘apart from every second week, when you’re cramming for your latest emergency.’

‘It’s better when you come with me.’

‘Oh Tanny, get yourself off. You’ll be late. And I want to get back to those windswept moors. They remind me of home.’

Tanya shrugged, grumbled and finally left. Heather gave her five minutes and then tossed the paperback onto her table, glad to drop the pretence. The novel that shocked Victorian England wasn’t really top of her agenda today. In fact it wasn’t anywhere near. She’d got all she knew about “Helen Graham” from the blurb on the cover.

Fibbing made her uneasy though, especially on a day of worship.

Am I misusing God, she wondered as she made her way through the maze of passageways, using Him as an alibi?

Well, needs must. Whenever else will I get opportunity?

Heather arrived at her destination and tried the handle. It was locked . . . as per usual. She had a furtive glance up and down the corridor. There was nobody in sight so she stealthily knocked.

‘Oh,’ said Jacqui, answering the door in her dressing gown, showing off yards and yards of bare leg. ‘It’s you.’

‘Can I come in?’

Jacqui had her own furtive glance up and down the corridor before stepping aside.

‘So you’re back,’ she said, locking up behind them. ‘How did the hockey trial go?’

‘I qualified with top marks. So I’m here to celebrate.’

‘Celebrate?’ Jacqui raised an eyebrow. ‘How do you propose to do that?’

Heather responded by grabbing her and mashing their mouths together. Not giving the tallish blonde with anywhere to retreat to. Not that she seemed to want to retreat. No, she just stood there against the door and took it.

‘On the bed,’ Heather demanded.

‘Hold it, hold it.’ Jacqui was pink-faced and quivering all over.

‘Get on the bed.’

‘This is almost an assault!’

‘Jacqui I assure you, I’ve hardly started. Get on the bed.’

‘What’s got into you? You’ve been avoiding me like the plague.’

‘I’m not avoiding you now, am I?’

‘You can say that again!’ Jacqui took a big breath and quivered some more. ‘You do realize your Alsatian will find out. She’s got snoops everywhere.’

‘Mare’s still away with the Beach Girls. She’ll be surfing in Newquay at this very moment.’

‘She’ll find out as soon as she gets back. She always does.’

‘It’ll be too late then, won’t it? Now, are you going willingly, or do I have to carry you?’


Other books by LimeyLady

Heather Hunter’s Exploits

Happiest Days

Friday Night Fun

It Started With a Kiss


Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 01

Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 02

Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 03

Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 04

Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 05

Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 06

Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 07

Heather’s Hectic Weekend Part One

Heather’s Hectic Weekend Part Two

Heather’s Hectic Weekend Part Three

Heather’s Hectic Weekend Part Four

Heather Falls in Love Part One

Heather Falls in Love Part Two

Heather Falls in Love Part Three

Bedding the Boss

Re-Bedding the Boss

Sammy Jo Has a Big Night Out

Sammy Jo Has Another Big Night Out

Sammy Jo Tries Team Building

Short and Sweet

Brief Encounter

Victoria’s Secret

Victoria's Second Secret

Victoria’s Third Secret

Loving Made Easy

I Want Your Sex

Love Triangle Series

New Beginnings

New Beginnings Advance

New Beginnings Falter

New Beginnings Revive

New Beginnings Conclude

Two Sides to Every Story


Davina Again

Davina Does Christmas

Davina Does Easter

Davina Does Older Women

Davina Does Scotland

Davina Does Three More

Davina Falls Out

WWE Series

No Holds Barred in London

No Holds Barred in Belfast

No Holds Barred in Boston

No Holds Barred in Munich

Naughty Daughter Series

Daddy’s Girl

Doing It With Daddy

Doing More For Daddy

Angie’s Exploits

Angie Baby

Art For Art’s Sake

Another One Bites the Dust

Three Times a Lady

Since You’ve Been Gone

Tonight’s the Night

Fat Bottomed Girls

Ruby Tuesday

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Come On Eileen

Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

Satanism Series (featuring Heather Hunter)

A First Date With The Devil

Compilations of short stories

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun 1

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun 2

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun 3

Full-length novels

Dangerous Dealings (a free if short intro to the long ones)

Unconsecrated Ground

Best Served Cold

There will always be some of the above stories available free-of-charge on Smashwords. The rest will be subject to a significant list-price discount at various times of the year. The aim is to have minimally twenty books discounted during any one calendar month. Ideally, there will be as many as thirty.

Download this book for your ebook reader.
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