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Lesbian Seduction

Sitting in the lounge, lights low. A few wines between us and I'm beginning to think well maybe, just maybe, this is the night for me and Kay. I know she's not a dyke, not yet, which kind of makes this an even bigger deal. All the same, for weeks now I've sent the signals and she hasn't run a mile. If anything she's relaxed. She smokes a cigarette, stubs it out, in a while lights another for herself and one for me, the filter wet with her saliva. Our conversation gets mellow and easy and sexy. She is sexy. She turns me on. My body is tight and flushed, and I sigh whenever I imagine that frightening moment when I must ask her if she will stay the night with me. But then we are interrupted.

Kay sits up straight, the mood retreating. I go and look along the hall. In the dim light I see Marcel and Damien and David. And someone else. Damien strides down filling the room with his noise, past me and Kay, into the kitchen. He comes back with a bottle of wine. I ask who she is, the woman in the hallway. He says, 'Fuck knows.' I watch them, trying to figure whether I can rescue the evening with Kay.

Damien joins the others, all of them almost too drunk to stand up. The woman's drunk too. The light goes on in Marcel's room and I can see her better. Fuck. Fifty? Short, plump, hair cut hard and ragged, dyed ink-black. The black skirt is so tight her middle age stomach bulges under fat shapeless boobs. Her stupid giggle rattles through the house. In the bedroom she squeals.

Damien's standing at the door not paying any attention to me. I go down and Marcel is spinning the woman around on her toes like a grotesque music-box angel, pinching her bottom and breasts as she goes. She grins a hugely excited eastern-european grin, oblivious to how ridiculous she looks. I guess she doesn't care. Somehow she thinks she's got lucky with three young shit-heads to fuck her senseless. She's got no idea of what she's in for. I've seen these guys when they're like this. Psychotic. I stay away from them.

Damien pushes past me and into the bedroom and I throw him a scowl. With all the sarcasm I can muster I tell him to have fun. He smiles with raised innocent eyebrows and gives the air a big long lick and says he'd rather be watching us two, meaning me and Kay. I don't have to turn around to know Kay is down there watching this. I tell him, 'You're a bastard.' He blows me a kiss and quietly shuts the door in my face.

Kay is by the couch. Her body language says it all. She doesn't really need to say, 'Hey. It's time I was getting home.' That's ok. I see her out, the two of us ignoring the obscene noises coming through Marcel's door. I apologise to her, the least I can do. She shrugs and to be most optimistic I'm sure I detect an element of regret.

The night would have been a loss anyway. I'm tidying up everyone's mess in the lounge when Jodie arrives through the front door. She is supposed to be away for the weekend. Something tells me to mind my own business. She goes through to the bathroom, slams the door, comes out and goes to her bedroom and slams that door too. She's out of there in ten seconds, goes to Marcel's door and
nearly breaks it down. She screams at him, 'Marcel! If you don't shut the fuck up in there I'll kill you.' She glares at the door, and then at me, blinking as if she's just seen me for the first time tonight. She disappears back into her bedroom and this is the last I see of any of them. So, had I really hoped for a whole night alone with Kay? Oh well. I brush out my hair, tie it up in a pony-tail, change into a singlet for bed. Jodie's room is deathly quiet. I can hear soft deriding laughter, one of the boys, coming from Marcel's room. My own bedroom is relatively peaceful. I lay on the bed stroking my pubes feeling let down. Too horny to read. Too tired to do
anything about it.

I would say I'm surprised to hear from Kay the next afternoon, so soon after the disaster. She says there's a Tati festival on at the Factory. Will I go with her? Maybe a coffee afterwards. Next page

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