"You want to become what?"

This was my first reaction when my flatmate Cara told me of her latest idea. I was used to her endless searching for the 'thing' that would change her life for ever. It was safe to say that she was not happy with her lot and tried aimlessly to find something that would enable her to feel better about her self.

"I want to become orgasmic."

Usually I'm quick off the mark but this time she had stumped me.

"What the hell does that mean? Become Orgasmic. How on earth did you come up with that?"

We were sitting in a café inside one of the local bookshops in town. It was rare that we managed to have a day off work together so we took advantage of them when we could. Although we got on well as flatmates we were completely different. Whereas Cara preferred to browse round the bookshops, I could usually be found checking out the latest fashions. We had arranged to meet for coffee after a couple of hours wandering.

"It's a title of a book I read in a bookshop the other day. In fact, I think it was this one." She glanced around. "I'm sorely tempted to buy it but I thought it would be better to try out some of the suggestions first before I parted with my hard earned cash."

She smiled wryly.

"Becoming Orgasmic," she went on, "is a sexual and personal growth programme for women."

Cara's pretty features screwed up into an expression of enthusiasm. I had forgotten how many times I had seen that particular emotion over the few years that I had known her. She looked at me, Bev her flatmate, with brown eyes widened with a passion of a different kind to the one that I wished I saw, and her rosy lips had parted slightly. God, she was so beautiful. So alive.

I, on the other hand, had my fair share of attention but I did not consider myself in the same league. I had shoulder length red hair and green eyes. Below them a spatter of freckles emphasised my cheek bones. I stood a couple of inches shorter than Cara at 5ft 6. My figure was trim and well in proportion to my height. I could never understand why she needed to change her life anyway. To me she had and was everything. I was the one who was lacking that certain something.

I shook my head.

"You've lost me Cara. What the hell does all that mean?" I paused. "And anyway, how do you propose to become more orgasmic?" I stumbled slightly with the 'O' word. Not that I was a prude. Far from it. I'd just never heard of this before. I dreaded to think what people would be thinking though if they'd heard this particular conversation.

She was silent for a few minutes and I could see how much she was deep in thought by the intent look on her face. It often bothered me by how few boyfriends or girlfriends for that matter, she had. It seemed more often than not she was alone. I, too, was in between relationships but I chose to spend some time on my own. I believed that Cara's poor view of herself affected her ability to find someone she felt she could love.

"Well this book, "Becoming Orgasmic" tells of a number of exercises that you can do alone or with a partner. I can work with the ones alone obviously but I still need a partner to practice the other ones with. That's what I don't have. A partner."

Ah that was it. A catch. I waited. She didn't leave me disappointed.

"I had an idea you were going to suggest that, Cara. I know you too well. But why me? Why choose me to be your partner?" I knew I was a lesbian but I didn't think she was. I couldn't be 100% sure, of course, that she liked women at all; I had never seen her with either sex.

Inside of me my heart beat faster and I could feel my panties becoming damp at the thought of us together. I looked at her eager face and although I was excited at the prospect of helping her out, I couldn't help but think that it would have a detrimental effect on our relationship. I didn't want to ruin what we had. I felt comfortable with the knowledge that I could sleep with her in my head and I could feel safe with my feelings. I tried again.

"Wouldn't it be better for you to wait until you found a boyfriend? Then you could bring up the subject of the book when you felt ready to, you know... um, sleep together. Practice the ones you can do yourself."

She didn't reply so I figured she wasn't too keen on the idea. I decided to play along for awhile. I was curious to see how this thing would end up.

"Okay. How about showing me the book and perhaps we can go on from there."

I stared into my coffee as she ran off to find the book. It was easier to concentrate on the swirling white froth of milk than it was to consider what I was getting myself into. I hoped that she wouldn't be able to find it. There was a part of me that didn't want to go any further with this idea but there was also that selfish bit that did. It was that fraction of desire that was playing havoc with my emotions; wetting my pussy lips and instilling butterflies in my stomach as if this was a first love, new and innocent. My clit throbbed away as my body fought control over my mind.

Cara returned at that point and triumphantly slammed the book on the table in front of me. It had an attractive white cover with reddish-purplish butterflies below the title which seemed apt considering what was jumping around in my stomach at the time. The word Orgasmic was in bold print and coloured red and it brought my mind back again to my irritated clit. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

"What's up? " Cara was looking at me oddly and I hoped my cheeks weren't flushed red also.

"Nothing." I assured her. I had a look at the back of the book and read down the list of statements that the authors stated this book would help the reader with, a couple of which did not immediately apply to me or Cara. There was no chance that either of us were pregnant or nearing the menopause but I supposed that could also be the same of millions of other women. I had always thought too, that I was comfortable with my body and myself as a woman but I was interested to see if my views could be changed or improved.

I casually flipped through the chapters.

After a few minutes of silence I gave her my thoughts.

"Okay. I'm intrigued. How do you want to play this?"

As soon as my words were out of my mouth, Cara had rushed off to purchase the book. We had then taken the bus back home. She had sat the entire time with a large grin on her face which couldn't help but reach her eyes, it was that big. She divided her attention between me and the streets outside, hoping that her enthusiasm would eventually rub off on the rigid figure beside her. She could barely sit still for one minute. She grabbed my hand, already damp with perspiration. I snatched it away, and then frantically rubbed it on my thigh to remove the beads of sweat. I mouthed 'Sorry' as her eyes filled up with tears.

"I'm sorry." I said again. "I didn't mean to be rude. I don't know what's up with me." I did, of course, but couldn't bring myself to say. Now didn't seem like the right time.

She took hold of my hand again and said that she would see me at home. With that, she got off the bus two stops early. I watched her go and thought that she was holding herself together much better than I was. I felt a quivering wreck with feelings for her that grew stronger each passing day and my mind trying to convince the rest of me that I was doing the wrong thing.

I returned home sooner than Cara and was busy making myself a cup of tea when she entered the kitchen. She immediately switched the kettle off and held up the bottle of wine she had bought.