Debbie’s Turn By Matt Corton (Story code: FF, 1st) I raced around the bedroom gathering my things for my weekly visit to the Leisure Centre. I was running late as usual having fought my way home from work through the traffic, cooked the family’s evening meal and done as much cleaning up as I could. If only Pete would lend a hand now and then – or even the kids. And pigs might fly, I thought From downstairs came the all too familiar sound of Claire and Tom squabbling and Pete shouting at them to shut up so he could hear the television. Another football match. “Fuck you, you little brat,” my daughter screamed at her younger brother, followed by Pete shouting upstairs. “Debbie, did you hear your daughter’s language?” I sighed. Another round of “happy families.” Claire at fifteen was a raging torrent of hormones who could be told nothing. For the hundredth time I wondered where the sweet natured little girl had gone, the one who played and cuddled and told me all the time, “I love you mummy.” Whereas in Tom, two years Claire’s junior, I could see emerging a younger version of his father. Having been orphaned at an early age, I had been brought up by a succession of foster parents. I was just nineteen when Pete, my second ever boyfriend, had impregnated me resulting in our hasty marriage and Claire’s delivery five months later. He was a good husband in some respects. He earned good wages as a car transporter driver and so in that sense he was a decent provider. Outside of work though, he proved to be a lazy man, the kind who helped little or not at all about the house and who believed that looking after the kids was the woman’s responsibility. At weekends he played golf and supported the town’s football team. Other times, well there was always something for him to do, like fishing and going to the social club where he drank beer with his pals and attended committee meetings and the like. Whereas I, as well as holding down a full time job, was supposed to do all the cooking, cleaning, shopping, laundry and child rearing and taking care of all the household bills and family financial affairs. Pete’s idea of showing me a good time was to take me with him to his social club on a Saturday night, buy me a few vodkas and twirl me around the dance floor a couple of times to the strains of whatever untalented and poorly rehearsed band his committee had booked for the evening. After that, if I was really lucky he’d take me home and fall asleep before insisting on his once a week shag, which invariably left me frustrated, waiting for him to fall asleep so that I could slip into the bathroom to reach a necessary, unsatisfactory, but better-than-nothing climax with my finger. Surely there was more to life than this? I swear I’d have gone crazy if it hadn’t been for my job and the companionship of my workmates. We worked in the customer service department in the head office of a chain of department stores, answering letters and phone calls from customers. There was a gang of about eight or nine of us of various ages and backgrounds. We had little in common except the job and our Wednesday evenings when as many of us as could make it went along to Ladies Night at the local Leisure Centre. I looked forward eagerly to these evenings to relax, share a few laughs and for the chance to escape from home. I rushed to the Leisure Centre and was only a few minutes late joining the rest of the gang in the steam room. Barbara, a happy divorcee in her fifties, soon had us in fits as usual, telling a tale about her latest flame who had overdosed on Viagra that previous weekend. “I said to him, I suppose I can always use it a clothes pole,” she completed her tale to howls of laughter. “You could always rent him out,” Meg, the oldest of the gang, suggested. “I’d have a shot. My old man lost the lead in pencil years ago,” she added. A raft of other suggested uses were yelled out, each more outrageous and ribald than the next. God, how I loved these girls! After some time in the pool we moved onto the sauna for a while. At nine o’clock we usually split up for half an hour or so. Two or three of the younger girls went to the gym for a work out, another couple played table tennis, others went to use the sunbeds. Sometimes I joined the group in the gym to beat the living daylights out a punch bag – God, how I enjoyed that – or when we could get a court booked, Pauline and I played badminton. Pauline was the newest member of the gang. I knew little about her other than that she had moved into our town a couple of months ago and started working with us shortly afterwards. She was in her early forties and lived on her own in an apartment in a neat new development on the western edge of the town. She was a large woman, easily five feet nine inches tall and well built in an athletic way - her broad shoulders and well muscled arms could certainly hit a shuttlecock. She wore her dark hair in a short- cropped style that suited her strong features. For all her imposing appearance, Pauline was actually quite a shy person who usually merged into the background, content to enjoy the banter of the rest of the gang. No-one minded. There was room for all sorts in our gang – as long as they weren’t bloody men! Pauline was an excellent badminton player. Strong, agile and very experienced. I knew that she played several times a week in local leagues and was a highly sought after doubles partner. I was also a good player, although small and thin I was very fast and possessed a delicate touch that could deliver killer drop shots over the net. However I wasn’t in Pauline’s class and she always won our games. She had to work hard to do so though, and was always kind enough to acknowledge the fact. Pauline and I approached our court only to find two teenage girls already playing on it. There had been some sort of blunder and the Leisure Centre staff had contrived to double book the court. Pauline and I were about to walk away – we could always go to the gym – when one of the girls suggested that we played a doubles match. The two girls were good, really good. They’d clearly been trained by an expert and had an instinctive understanding of each other’s play. Pauline and I had never partnered each other and before we settled into our game we found ourselves six-love down. A magnificent smash by Pauline from the back of the court won the serve back and we started to score. I nipped into the net to intercept with some deft drop shots while Pauline commanded the back of the court. A game of badminton is won with fifteen points as long as the winner is at least two points ahead. We fought back to fifteen all, then seventeen all, saving six match points in the process. I had never played so hard nor wanted to win so desperately. I flung myself around the court like a dervish, retrieving lost causes with near miraculous returns. Pauline was also playing out of skin. Eventually at twenty-nineteen down, we won the serve back again then won two quick points to reach match point. I served, a bit too deep. Pauline somehow returned the deep lob that came back to her. Our opponent tried a drop shot but I skipped in and with a quick twist of the wrist I guided the shuttlecock just over the net to win the point and the match. Twenty-two to twenty! Pauline and I both shrieked with joy as if we’d just won the world championships. We met each other in the centre of the court and hugged, bouncing up and down in tandem. We said our goodbyes to our opponents and headed for the changing rooms. The match had lasted about forty minutes and we were about ten minutes behind the rest of the gang in getting changed and to the bar for a drink or two – the traditional finale to our Wednesday evenings. We entered the ladies changing room still whooping and laughing. As we were later than usual the shower area was empty. I undressed hurriedly, wrapped my towel around me and went into one of the shower cubicles. I could hear Pauline showering in the adjoining cubicle. I’m quite shy about my body - the type who hates communal changing rooms in clothes shop. I’d rather go somewhere else. How I envied those confident, self- assured women who take nudity in their stride, able to chat and fix their hair and makeup in various stages of undress. I simply didn’t feel good enough about myself to be seen like that. In the Leisure Centre I usually dry myself and get dressed in one of the individual changing rooms rather than in the general changing area. This evening though, Pauline and I came out of our showers at the same time with our towels wrapped around us from chest to thighs. As we continued to talk excitedly about the game, she removed her towel and started to dry herself. It would have been rude to leave her alone in the general changing area and so I began to do likewise, still covering myself as much as possible with my towel. “And then that final drop shot, Debbie,” she enthused. “That was brilliant! You were absolutely great!” She turned and grinned at me, her towel hanging at her side. I couldn’t help but look at her. Her breasts were quite small for such a well-built woman, but beautifully proportioned with quite exquisite nipples, vibrant and erect from the effect of the shower and the towel. These were surrounded by large, dark, perfectly round aureoles. Her skin was creamy white with a firmness belying her forty-plus years. My eyes moved down her body, past a surprisingly slim waist which drew my gaze towards broad, curvaceous hips. I couldn’t prevent a short gasp escaping from me as I took in her smooth, hairless pubis. I had never seen anything so fascinating, so beautiful, so sensual. I had never seen a female form that exuded such a sense of pure nakedness. I blinked and lifted my eyes again. Pauline smiled at me, making it obvious that she was aware of my appraisal of her body. “I’m – I’m sorry,” I stammered. “That’s quite alright,” she replied, her smile widening. “I like you looking at me.” I gave a nervous little giggle, feeling like a schoolgirl caught doing something naughty. “Let me see you too,” she said, extending her hand out towards my towel which still covered the front of my body. I gasped again as she took the towel in her hand, her eyes willing me to release my grip. I did so. “You’re beautiful,” Pauline whispered as she gazed at my naked body. My blush started at the tips of my toes and surged through me. “No – No I’m not. You are,” I stammered in reply, accompanied by another nervous laugh. Pauline laughed too. I felt a little stream of water escape from my hair and trickle down my breast. She laughed again, raised the towel and wiped it off. In doing so her fingers brushed against my nipple. I felt a delicious shiver course through my body. I have no idea what instinct compelled my next action, but I watched myself extend a trembling arm and, spreading my fingers, running my hand gently across her hairless pubic mound. The skin was perfectly smooth and beautifully soft and delicate to the touch. She closed her eyes for a second, opened her mouth slightly and ran her tongue along her bottom lip. “Not here,” she said, opening her eyes, taking my hand and gently placing my arm by my side. “Follow me home after we have a drink with the others.” We dressed and joined the rest of the gang in the bar, all eight of us crowded around a circular table. Pauline and I squeezed in together between two of our friends. As we sipped our Cokes, I was intensely aware of her thigh touching against mine. I could sense my face reddening and was amazed that no-one else seemed to notice. After about ten minutes Pauline rose from her chair. “Goodnight ladies. See you all in work tomorrow,” she said. “I should go too,” I said to the gang. “Goodnight.” The girls shouted their farewells as Pauline and I left the bar. I followed her tail lights in my beat up old Ford Fiesta, and pulled up in a parking space next to her smart, modern car. Neither of us spoke a word as I followed her to the front floor of her apartment, one of a small complex of eight such units over two floors. She inserted a key in the lock and opened the door, holding it ajar for me to enter behind it. She flicked a switch and soft, amber-tinted lighting gently swept over a small but chic living room. She took my hand and led me through another door into a short hallway, and from there into a neat, elegantly but minimally furnished bedroom. She flicked another switch, bathing the room in gentle light. “I’m going to strip you,” she said, taking both my hands in hers. I felt my head swim and my knees buckle. During the drive to her home I craved nothing more from life than to be naked in Pauline’s arms and to feel her and to have her touch me anywhere, everywhere she wanted. And yet I was horribly confused, beset by a profound sense of guilt and shame at my thoughts of lust and longing. Not because I was betraying my marriage vows as they meant little to me, but because I have been conditioned through my Catholic upbringing that such desires are wicked and sinful. Anyway, I wasn’t – you know – a lesbian. There! I had dared to think the word. Lesbian! Pauline pulled me towards her and smiled. God, what a beautiful smile she had. Why had I never noticed this before? She motioned for me to raise my arms. I did so and she pulled my tracksuit top over my head, folded it tidily and placed it on a dresser beside her. “You’re so beautiful, my baby” she said, running her fingers through my hair, stroking my face and my shoulders. Her fingers ran across my back and unhooked my bra. She eased the straps down my arms and placed the garment alongside the top. A fresh worry arose in my mind. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I mean I was hopelessly, totally inexperienced in this situation. “Pauline,” I managed to whisper. “I’ve never – I mean I haven’t….” She quietened me by a finger on my lips and making a “Shhh” sound. “I know you haven’t, my beautiful baby. Don’t you worry. Let me do everything. You just relax. Everything’s going to be wonderful.” She stroked my breasts with light, delicate touches. Suddenly I knew that she was right. Everything was fine. Pauline was going to take care of me. A feeling of exhilaration swept through me as I allowed my mind to empty of conscious thought and let pure, physical sensation take its place. Pauline motioned me to sit on the bed. She removed my trainers and socks. She slid down my tracksuit bottoms and I automatically lifted my bum to let her pull them down. She lay me on the bed, now naked except for my panties. I watched her undress. As she stripped off her clothes, the realisation that I would soon be touching and be touched by her breasts and legs and thighs and hands became all too much for me to bear. She was so lovely. The intense emotions I was experiencing overwhelmed me and I began to cry. “Hush now, my baby,” she whispered, stroking my head and wiping away the tears on my face. She had joined me on the bed, also stripped to her panties. “Mummy understands. Let mummy hold you.” She cradled my head into her breasts as she rocked me gently back and forth, back and forth. My mouth found a nipple and encircled it. Some ancient human instinct compelled me to suck as if a new born at her mother’s teat, while all the time Pauline stroked my head, hair and face. After a while I felt replete, satisfied in a curious way. I looked up and saw Pauline’s face, eyes closed, displaying an expression of rapture such as I have never seen. I leant upwards and kissed her. Our lips opened and our tongues met. It was as if an electric current had surged through me. I felt fire engulf my body, radiating out from my secret, most intimate parts which I could sense were moistening. Pauline’s kiss became more demanding and I whimpered in excitement as she pulled down my panties to my knees. She began to gently squeeze my bottom, her fingers flirting dangerously between my lower buttocks. Her tongue traced a line down my breast, across my stomach and into my navel. I squirmed and wriggled with pure ecstasy as her tongue flicked in and out, round and around the navel. She parted my legs slightly and her fingers traced a route around the lips of my labia while her tongue continued downwards, coming to rest on my clitoris, which had become rigid with sexual excitement, completely emerged from its secret hiding place. Pauline touched me and licked me until my first orgasm exploded with an intensity I would not have believed possible. Again and again I arched my back and cried out in joy and bliss as the world around me dissolved into colours that do not exist in our spectrum. I came and came and came again as her tongue and her fingers continued to take me to a plane of ecstasy outside my human existence. Eventually I returned back down to earth, slumped against her body and, once again, began to cry. I can’t explain why I was crying, nor why my tears should turn to fits of laughter a minute later. I laughed with joy until Pauline joined in. Together, we rolled about the bed, holding and kissing and laughing. It must have made some sight, the two of us rolling about in hysterics – she naked except for her panties and me with my own wrapped around my knees. Our laughter subsided and I held her face, smiling into her eyes. I now knew exactly what I wanted to do next. I kissed her deeply and began to caress her breasts and stomach. She began to moan with pleasure. I took off my own panties properly and reached down to pull remove hers. “I’ll get that,” she said, smiling. “You concentrate on doing exactly what you were before. Oh God! Yes.” I moved my hand lower and lower and she parted her legs to give me passage to her secret places. As my hands passed over her hairless pubic region, once again a thrill raced through my entire body. What was it about her shaven and waxed condition that affected me so passionately? I couldn’t answer. All I knew was that Pauline was rocking and writhing under my hand as I pushed my fingers in and out of her moist, warm vagina, brushing up and down her clitoris, all the time kissing and sucking on her breasts. She cried out in rapture as her climax overtook her. Her body rocked and thrashed against me until, impossibly, the very sight and sound of her ecstasy brought me to a fresh climax as well and my cries of joys echoed hers. Oh, can you imagine what it felt like to realise that I was capable of giving this wonderful, beautiful woman such pleasure? Me - Debbie, who for years had felt almost sexless, neither desired nor desiring, hopelessly inept at sexual activity? And yet here was Pauline responding to my touch as if I was an expert in the art of lovemaking. God, how blessed I felt! We lay together, kissing and stroking. She asked me about my life and it occurred to me how little we knew each other even though we worked together and shared our Wednesday evenings. I told her of my loveless upbringing and largely unhappy marriage. Of the way my husband and kids walked all over me. I told her that I was a failure as a wife and mother. “Oh baby, I really need to take you in hand, don’t I,” she said, stroking my hair. “You really don’t know what a wonderful person you are, do you?” And her smile told me that she meant it. “Tell me about yourself,” I asked, propping myself up on one elbow. Have you always – you know – preferred women to men? “I didn’t realise I was a lesbian until my final year in University,” Pauline explained. “I had had a couple of boyfriends but had found the sex part messy and unsatisfactory. Still, I kept on doing it in the theory that it would get better with experience. Instead I felt more and more unhappy with each dismal encounter. My feelings were even more confused because I had discovered during my teens that I could never have children, and I think this made the sex act even more pointless for me.” “One Christmas holidays, I was visiting another university as a member of my college’s badminton team. We usually had to share rooms and this time was no exception. However my roommate from the previous year had left and I was listed to share with Jenny, a second year student who was new to the team. She was a bright vivacious, beautiful young girl and a great badminton player. The other difference this time was the room we were given contained a double bed instead of the normal twin bed set up. “I slept poorly that first night. Sometime in the small hours of the morning I felt a hand reach over and rest on my thigh. I have to admit that it felt nice and so I lay there still, not wishing to wake Jenny up in case she moved it away. Slowly the hand crept up my leg and round towards my, well, you know where,” she grinned. “Well, I’m sure you can imagine the rest. After a little while I knew that she was awake, she knew that I was awake and we made passionate love umpteen times a day for the next three days and nights.” “Did you have a proper long-term relationship?” I asked “Oh no. Jenny was a butterfly, flitting from person to person, spreading her own gospel of Lesbos through as much of the female student population of Great Britain as possible,” Pauline smiled as the happy memories were recalled. “I did have one long term relationship,” she added, her smile vanishing. “Tell me,” I asked, propped up an elbow. “Please. I really want to know, to understand you.” Suddenly I knew with a certainty that Pauline was to become an important, a very important person in my life and I wanted to learn all I could. “Her name was Megan,” she said. “I was in my twenties and living in London. I have no close family, and I’m not terribly good at making friends,” she added with a faint smile. “I’ve always been a loner. Even as a girl I felt different from the others and I grew up quite used to my own company.” “I met Megan on a train back to London from Scotland where I had just spent the weekend skiing. We had the carriage to ourselves and as we began to talk I sensed an immediate empathy. Not unlike tonight, in fact, with you.” I glowed with pleasure at her words. “The damn train broke down and we were stranded for hours somewhere near Doncaster. It was freezing. We huddled together to keep each warm and before long we were making love to each other through our clothes. “I fell in love with her that night, and she with me. There was a problem though. Megan was ten years older than me and married, despite having been aware of her sexuality from an early age. She had repressed her true feelings and married so as to try and lead a normal life - have children and so on. Her husband had been diagnosed with leukaemia and there was no question of her deserting him, so we settled for seeing each other as much as possible over the years. Megan’s husband went into remission several times, happily, and he lived for a further twelve years. He died four years ago – just two weeks after a car crash on the M25 had also claimed Megan’s life. There’s been no-one else since.” We held each other crying softly, her at the recollection of her loss, me for empathy with this beautiful, wonderful woman and her bravery and fortitude. I made a silent vow that I would find some way to ease her sadness – even if I could do so just a little. After a short while, we made love again slowly, tenderly. We caressed and stroked each other to a shuddering climax with one hand while kissing and fondling each other’s breasts with the other. Afterwards, the ghost of unhappiness had been exorcised and we chatted together cheerfully. “Goodnight my baby,” she bid me as I left. It was about half past two and I was very late. I knew however that no-one at home would even notice. Claire and Tom would have been in their rooms, lost in their computers and game machines or their TVs or music centres until they went to sleep. Pete would have been in bed by about eleven, snoring heavily in preparation for another early start on the road with his transporter. It gave me absolutely no joy to realise that I wouldn’t even have to explain my late arrival home. **** During the next day at work Pauline and I exchange several surreptitious emails. I also managed a long chat with her at our lunch break without raising any suspicions among the rest of the gang. That night I called Pete and the kids to get the meal I had just prepared as normal. What was unusual was my insistence that we sit down together at the kitchen table to eat it. “Aw Mum, loads of my pals are online, let me take my tea to my room…” My sharp “No” interrupted Tom. Claire on the other hand muttered phrased I could barely hear but sounded like “pain in the arse… bloody little Hitler..” Only Pete had the sense to realise that I must have a good reason. “OK, listen up guys,” I said once we were all seated. “I just want you to know that there’s going to be some changes around here in future.” I took a deep breath and continued, “I’ve come to realise that I run myself ragged taking care of the house while you lot have fun. I’ve decided that it’s my turn.” “Pete, first of all you need to understand that I hate going to your club. In future when you go out on a Saturday night, I’ll go off with one of my pals to the cinema or even out to dinner or whatever. End of discussion.” This wasn’t the time to tell him that I was no longer going to have sex with him. That would come later, after the kids had left the room. Pete looked at me, a dumbfounded expression on his face. “You should all know that I’ve also joined a theatre group at my office. We have the chance to go and see West End shows every other Saturday at a discount and to stay overnight in a decent hotel as part of the package. Our first trip is tomorrow night. You’ll need to fend for yourselves for a change. “ “Aw come on Mum, who’s going to make my tea…” This was from Tom, my incredibly selfish son. “I don’t care.” I said. “But Mum, you always give me a lift to karate on Friday,” he whined. Ask your Dad for a lift. Or you could even catch a number 23 at the bottom of the road,” I said. “A bus? Oh God no!” he said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Where did I get these kids, for goodness sake? “I’ll have other nights out with the girls as and when I see fit, and we’re even talking about planning holidays together. I’m also no longer prepared to do all the housework. Here’s a rota for the washing up, the vacuuming, the shopping and so on. Anyone who doesn’t do their turn will have to wear dirty clothes, because I’ll use the time I would have spent doing that person’s laundry to do the chore that was missed. Is that clear?” I looked around and saw two horrified faces. Strangely the third face, Claire, had a huge grin from ear to ear. She leaned over and held me, her first sign of affection towards me for at least a year. “Way to go Mum. Don’t worry. I’ll help out,” she whispered. “Don’t let those men run you ragged when I’m out,” I whispered back. “No danger. I’m the monster she-devil from Hell, remember?” I cuddled my daughter, knowing that she was going to be alright. **** Pauline and I spent Saturday afternoon shopping in a neighbouring town, laughing and joking together as if we had been best friends for years Later, back at her apartment, Pauline showered and emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a thick dressing gown. “Come here, baby,” she said. “I’ve run a bath for you. Lift your arms up.” She took off my shirt, then proceeded to strip me naked. She lowered me into the bath and washed me gently but thoroughly. As her hands soaped and rinsed every intimate part of me I became very aroused, and by the time she dried me carefully with a large, fluffy towel I was groaning with desire. “Let me dress you,” she said, and proceeded to clothe me in a sheer, silky baby-doll nightdress with matching frilly knickers that she had bought that afternoon. Just a few days ago I would have considered these garments to be ridiculous, but right now they felt wonderful. I cuddled up to her on her lap, my hand on her breast as she fondled my bottom through my new underwear. My state of sexual excitement had reached such heights that I knew I would orgasm within seconds of her hand slipping inside my knickers… “Baby” she whispered. “I love you. I’m going to take care of you now.” My heart leapt with joy to hear her words. I silently blessed whatever magical, mystical force had caused Pauline and I to discover within each other the ability to satisfy a need that lay hidden deep within our souls. Her hand glided under the elastic and I parted my legs slightly as her fingers sought their goal. “I love you too, Mummy. I really do,” I replied, as my orgasm took me to another world.