Chapter 10

Maybe about 2 or 3 in the morning I awake to movements in the bed. I'm over Nick's side lying on my front.

I turn my head to a little gasp, it's from Rachael. Nick is on top of her, his faced buried in the side of her neck. Rachael's legs are locked around Nick who's fucking her slowly.

I feel strange about it, a kind of resentment or jealousy, not for Nick but for Rachael. It's SO wierd.

Opening her eyes, she sees me looking. She gives me a smile and holds out her hand for mine. As Nick speeds up, she holds my gaze, almost apologetically.

(Am I reading too much into this?)

Nick grunts and comes but I don't think Rachael's exactly enjoying herself. Nick gives her a kiss then spills aout of bed to go to the toilet.

"You alright honey?" I ask her.

She nods.

"Just wasn't quite in the mood then. It happens sometimes."

"Yes, you could have told him no?" I suggest.

"Sure, and Nick wouldn't have forced me or anything!" she hastens to say.

"Of course not," I agree.

"It's just... I guess I thought if we were quiet... I'd get into it. I didn't want to wake you... you were sleeping so peacefully."

She rolls towards me and puts an arm around my head. She bends and gives me a little kiss on the lips.

"Sorry Tee," she says, "its just... well, Nick said we should even the score. He said I was the only one who hadn't had a good 'seeing to'."

"Seeing to!" I exclaim, "bloody cheek! What the hell does he thing WE did together?"

"Well, he doesn't see that as sex. He thinks it was... more of a show... for his benefit."

"Egotistical bastard!"

I'm angry, how DARE he?

"Yeah well, that's the way he thinks. But it wasn't like that, was it Tee? I mean... I felt things... Good things... I... I wanted you to touch me and I wanted to touch you. That wasn't just a show, was it?"

"No Rachael, at least as far as I was concerned... Maybe at first... but later..."

"Yes... later, It was lovely... I kind of wish Nick hadn't been around. In a way, I just wanted it to be you and me. Do you think that makes me a lesbian?"

"Don't know, do you still like guys?"

"Sure... but it's different."

"Maybe we're all somewhere in between," I suggest to her.

"Like bisexual or something?"

"Yeah, I saw this programme on telly once, a documentary on sexual orientation and choices," I explain, " it said that for most of us it's a matter of personal choice. Of course our freedom of choice is moderated by socialogical and societal pressures."

"What? I didn't understand a tenth of that. Are you saying that to be a lesbian is a matter of choice?"

"Not really, for some they've never fancied the other gender. Like they've been born lesbian. Just like some have been born completely hetero."

"Everyone I know would say they're one of the few who were born hetero," she says grinning.

"Me too, They'd have a fit if you told them their door might swing both ways."

"Well until tonight, I would have said the same thing."

"Rach' Maybe we shouldn't get too wound up about whether we're this or that. Does it really matter? You might say we're broadening our horizons."

"Yeah, you can spoil something by thinking too much."

She bends and kisses me again, a longer, lingering one.

"You're so lucky to have such nice boobs," she says before bending down and kissing my nipple. "They're SO responsive too... hmm, hmm..."

She lavishes attention on my breasts, kissing, sucking and squeezing. She looks into my face.

"Y'know something? I wish you'd woken earlier... before Nick," she whispers, "it's you who I wanted to make love with."

When Nick returns, we're writhing around with one another, mouths locked together, hands everywhere. We hardly notice Nick coming in.

He sits on the bed for a while, just watching, then he mumbles something about going out for a cigar and leaves.

Rachael travels down over my tummy to my belly button and probes it with her tongue. It tickles and my whole tummy jiggles as I laugh.

"Keep still," she tells me and holds me around the stomach to prevent herself from being dislodged.

"I can't..." I giggle.

She puts her hand between my legs and inserts her middle finger into my vagina.

"That'll hold you," she says.

Everytime she tickles me and I shake, her finger wriggles around in my hole. It excites me and I move around on it on purpose. Rachael teases me with her tongue flicking it down in the direction of my pubic hair.

"Lick me babe," I gasp at her.

"Y'sure?" she grins at me, sawing her finger in and out.

"Does Nick lick you? she asks, teasingly.

"Yes!" I pant, her fingers feel SO good.

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Course!... Please Rach'!"

"Maybe I should get Nick."

"No! you!."

She dips her tongue along my crack. I jerk with the sensation.

"Beatie likes Rachael's tongue?"

"Yes I do, please babe!"

She works her tongue around my pussy, sucking my lips, moving around in a fluid motion, persistant and rhythymic.

I reach out with my hand and find her knee, thighs, bottom and finally her blond mound. Rachael twists around, wriggling her bottom towards me.

Meanwhile she's blowing on me, a kind of a wierd sensation.

"You need cooling down," she chuckles.

"Stop teasing!" I tell her desperately and slap her on the arse.

"Ouch, bitch!"

She rolls me over on my side and returns the favour.

"Ow... not so hard!"

We twist and roll around slapping each other's arses when she bites me. She clamps her teeth right on an arse cheek, knawling it like a dog with a bone.

"YEEEOOOWWW!" I shriek, "get off!"

Then we're hugging and laughing and rolling around until we're in a classic sixty-nine position. We each grip each other's butts, daring the other to dig in with their fingernails.

I'm aware of Nick standing by the door, a long cigar in his hand.

"I hope you're not planning on doing anything with that?" Rachael asks, laughing.

"What, and spoil a perfectly good King Edward?" he replies grinning, "are you guys having fun?"

We begin caressing each others arse, kneading, stroking.

"Yeah... but not as much fun as with you, honey."

I stop and let go of Rachael. I'm hurt and look at Rachael, questioningly.

'Did I hear that right?' I ask myself, 'would she rather be with Nick?'

She looks at me puzzled.

"What's wrong babe?"

I'm not going to tell her with Nick standing there.

"Nothing... just tired... maybe I'd better go home..." I mumble.

There's a little chorus of, 'no you don't have to leave, ' and 'sleep here. there's enough room, ' but I'm fed up and insist.

I dress hurriedly and Rachael comes with me to the door. She puts her arm around me and kisses me on the cheek.

"Quite a night," she says'

"Yes, I agree.

"Maybe we can do it again?" she suggests.

"Perhaps, give me a call..."

"Ok."

As I walk home down the path, I feel tears forming. For some strange reason I feel crushed.

ANGELA'S STORY

Hi, I'm Angela, Beatie's friend. Tee suggested I write a diary like she's doing, so I can look back on it when I'm old and remember.

'Gypsies, tramps and thieves.' Y'know that old Cher song about the men coming around, laying their money down, and the town calling them nasty names? Well it was a bit like that when I was growing up.

Mum was working in a massage parlour when she met dad. He told her he was in the import/export business and he must have been a good talker because mum's no fool. Mum said the only thing he ever imported was heroin.

As soon as she told him she was pregnant he was off and we've never heard from him since. Mum thinks he's probably serving time in some Australian prison somewhere.

Mum's a real blondie, like me, I mean a REAL one, not the bottle variety. She was/is a professional masseuse, but nowadays she has her own parlour and several girls working for her. She, takes the occasional client still, but they're her 'regulars' and she says it's more a favour for a selected few.

When I was young, we didn't have that much money. Mum worked hard, but most of what she earned she put away so we could have a better life. She couldn't get a mortgage, y'see, because the banks wouldn't lend to someone 'like her.' They said she had a 'high risk' profession, meaning, they were afraid she'd be busted and be unable to repay the loan.

It was all a load of crap, of course, just prejudice.

Mum saved up instead and bought our little house freehold. She told me that 'the fuckers can shove their mortgages up their arse.' Mum doesn't mince words.

When I started school, the other kids gave me a hard time. It was all from their parents, of course, and they would call me things like 'whore' and 'slut.' I don't think they knew what that meant, I know I didn't at first.

When I found out it really upset me. Mum told me that despite the nasty things they said, it didn't stop their dads coming around for a blow job. She couldn't 'out' the bastards either otherwise she'd lose her clientelle.

But I'm tough underneath, and so is mum. When I got a little older and started to develop hips and boobs, things began to change. Ok, so I still get the occasional comment, but I think they're just jealous of the way I look.

My hair is really thick and I put ringlets through it. It hangs down practically to my waist and is the envy of a lot of the girls at our school. I know I'm pretty, I know I have a cute arse and nice boobs, and I know the boys slobber over me. I use it, I play the sexy tart when I want to, but it's MY game.

I'm not academic, like Tee, so I use my best asset to get the things I want. Tee calls me 'street smart' but I've learnt to play the cards I'm dealt.

Mum always told me to always hold something back. She said to NEVER give the guys everything they want, that way they'll always come back. Let them think that they'll get it the next time, or the next, but she said when you've given everything up, that's it. She said that's the way to keep them interested.

When I was little, I was used to seeing different guys with mum. Sometimes I get into bed with mum in the morning and there'd be this guy snoring away and she'd say, 'this is uncle John, or Freddie, or Glen or whoever.' I got used to it and thought nothing of it.

Of course, I became aware later, that somehow this was 'wrong, ' that you had to have one man in the house who you called 'daddy.' I used to cry to mum and ask why I didn't have a dad like every other kid. She'd ask me if I thought those kids with dads were any happier and I couldn't answer her. I mean I KNEW that a few of them had fathers that were drunk all the time or working so hard they were never home. Mum said a few of those 'perfect' families provided some of her best clients.

My first 'experience, ' if you could call it that, was with a boy a couple of doors down. I was maybe 9 or 10, I don't recall exactly. We used to play together because they had a trampoline in their backyard. He also had a fort his dad built for him in a tree behind the vegetable garden at the back of the property.

Sometimes we'd go up there and play cards and he'd show me the toy soldiers he'd set up on this little table. I guess he was a couple of years older, maybe 12, I'm not sure now.

We had this little conversation about what makes girls different from boys, silly stuff. Of course I knew all about willies and kittys, I'd seen it all by that stage, but I gather he'd never seen a girl in the buff, not even his mother.

Anyway, he eventually asked me to show him my kitty. Now I asked myself, what would mum have charged for a show, so I told him I'd show him for a dollar.

Hey, I know it's cheap but mum always told me never to fleece the clients. 'Only charge what the market can afford' and I knew he didn't get that much pocket money.

He agreed anyway, so I hitched up my dress and gave him a view of my knickers. His eyes were bulging and he was starting too puff. I then asked him if he wanted to see everything and he nodded, I don't think he was able to speak.