Loading...Looking back there were so many turning points in our lives but for me sexuality, and sex in general and its effect on our friendship and the different ways love developed became important in the autumn of the year we turned eighteen. I’m not talking about the “kids fooling about” stuff but the powerful sort that attracts and repels, the sort that drives you and changes your life forever.
Janey and I were now regulars at the gym. We had student passes which made it just about affordable. We were keen on hockey and the second round of the girls’ county trials was coming up soon. I was already in the county team having been picked last season but Janey was still in the “possibles”. A lanky beanpole from a neighbouring school had been awarded the “probables” place in attack because she was fitter than Janey even though she couldn’t match Janey’s speed and strength.
Janey had a couple of other problems. She was small, only five feet four in her trainers, but like a lot of small people she was tough and aggressive, very upfront and outgoing – a real party animal.
That was the other problem.
At our age there were lots of parties. seventeenth birthdays, eighteenth birthdays, even the odd nineteenth birthday. Sometimes we went to the local nightclubs or discos for student specials – no alcohol – and if we had exchange students from Germany or France (those were our language options at school) we always took them out to the local pubs – plenty of alcohol there! There were passing exam parties, passing driving test parties, end of term parties, you name it. Most of our parents were amazingly tolerant and allowed parties with booze so long as we didn’t do go over the top. But any time anybody’s parents were away – then it got really wild.
And Janey was the wildest of all, even the boys were a bit wary of her. She drank way too much and often ended up legless. I only got as far as the giggling stage before I couldn’t take any more so I was usually sober enough to see us both back home. Usually I had to wait while she had a goodbye snog and a grope in someone’s hallway as we were leaving. I can still see her that way; up against a wall swallowing some guy’s tongue with her arms draped over his shoulder, cigarette in one hand – she smoked too, I really disapproved of that. Meanwhile he would have his hands under her top trying to get her bra over her tits, or one hand up her skirt and down her panties while she ground her hips into him.
Sometimes I would be similarly occupied – minus the cigarette – but my moments never seemed as wild and abandoned as Janey’s. I was usually pulling wandering palms and fingers away, or maybe just keeping a wrist grip on an exploring hand in case it went too far but she didn’t care what they did to her, though I never did see her go all the way – even upstairs in the bedrooms when we all went pretty far – but somehow I guessed she might have done it at least once.
So the gym was a must. Janey was determined to get into good shape for the trials and I was determined to help her. We had been best friends since our first day at primary school and we did most things together.
We attended an aerobics class on Monday nights, and either circuit training on Wednesdays or weight training on Fridays, homework came in somewhere in between – but we got it done. Despite all the parties and the sport we were conscientious scholars – both predicted Grade A’s. I wanted to be a barrister – all my teachers said I had the sort of unemotional unrelenting logic that would probably make me a good lawyer; Janey wasn’t sure what she wanted, either journalism or politics.
Tonight was aerobics and the gym was full of leotard clad bodies and sports bras as we all filed past the Reception desk to the main hall. There were a few men – nothing to write home about, mostly trying to get rid of middle-aged flab – and lots of middle-aged women too. Janey and I were always the youngest there. It was different for circuit and weight training – a mixture of young men and young women. All older than us but at least fanciable. Last season, two months before my sixteenth birthday – Janey’s two months younger than that – we got chatted up by a couple of blokes about twenty-four. Smart haircuts, expensive smelling aftershave or shower gel or something else equally heady, and new, smart sports gear – and smart suits when we saw them in the bar afterwards – no alcohol with our student passes. They asked us out for a drink and everything. Janey would have said yes of course but one of their friends on the periphery of the conversation, the flirting and chat up lines, said something about “jailbait” and they backed off pretty quickly. After that they were just polite, though the next week one of them was on the weights machine next to the one Janey and I were sharing. He asked a bit jokingly when were we eighteen. “Midnight tonight,” Janey said, quick as a flash as she took my place ready to do her set.
“Oh yeah?” he said with a smile and then he turned to me as he stood up. “What about you then?”
At five feet ten I’m tall, and kind of rangy compared to Janey. She can pass for eighteen when she’s made up but I’ve walked into some 21 and over nights at the disco with no trouble. He was looking down into my eyes and I had to look up a good couple of inches. I caught my breath and my legs turned wobbly and I couldn’t help but stammer the truth.
“March 24th.” I said, and looked down in embarrassment. He had well muscled, dark hairy legs and new Reebok trainers. Back then March 24th was nine weeks away.
“Hmm,” he said as I looked up. “Might see you around after the summer.” He grinned and threw his towel across his shoulder as he strode away.
“Idiot!” Janey hissed as she heaved the bar upwards. “You should have said you were eighteen, you can easily pass for it, then we’d both have had a chance.”
I wished I had Janey’s confidence. Now that he’d gone I could see the missed opportunity, but I was really thrown. This was the first time I’d been seriously approached by a proper, grown up man, and he was serious, I could see that in his eyes. Suddenly I’d taken a step up from the world of the gangly, acne-ridden lads who hung around us at school. Even the upper sixth form boys weren’t in this league. My pulse, which had just about returned to normal after my set, was now racing and I’m sure that if I hadn’t already been sweating and red from exertion my colour would have been up too.
I looked towards where he was now standing with two or three of his friends. “They’re not going to be seriously interested in us.” I defended my lack of enthusiasm, no – more than that; my real anxiety about what we might get ourselves into. “They wouldn’t settle for a snog and a quick feel.” I leaned forward and almost whispered as she breathed in deeply and hoisted the bar for the last one of her set. “They’d expect us to go all the way.”
“So, it’s got to happen sometime,” she returned, lowering the bar carefully. “How would you like your first time to be? With someone like him, probably in a smart flat? Or up behind the bike sheds with Darren Clarke after the May Ball?”
“Oh God no! Not Darren Clarke,” I said with feeling and we both burst out laughing and my embarrassment and that peculiar sense of ashamed arousal disappeared with the break in tension.
But the gym was now a place of sexual tension in a way that it had never been before. That was good as it made motivating Janey easier. She was forever pointing out good-looking blokes in their twenties or even thirties. “What about him then?” she’d say with a nod in the strategic direction. We’d even started giving them points. Not uncommon I later found out, amongst both men and women in groups.
We had to give the women points too, just as a way of seeing if we stood a chance in a straight competition between us and some of them if we were ever after the same man. Over a Lucozade Sport in the bar we gave ourselves six out of ten and rated the other women above or below that. Mostly we won, well, in her own mind Janey always won, I wasn’t so sure. Some of the women in here were very attractive.
For instance, in our aerobics class they were mostly pretty old but there was one younger woman who we kind of envied really. We’d given her an eight on our scale, I’d argued for nine but Janey wouldn’t go that far. Her name was Deborah Sullivan and she had long blonde hair and was in her early twenties. She was already married with a ten month old baby boy so we couldn’t really count her in our “who would get off with who” chart but if she were available she’d have been way up there. I guess she was trying to get her body back into shape after the baby – and it was working. Her husband was a few years older and they seemed quite well-off. He brought her once or twice in a Mercedes but she mostly drove herself in a new BMW. She usually brought her baby in with her but he was always fast asleep in one of those carry-cot come buggy type things. She put him just inside the doors where she could see him if he woke up. He never did – that kid was so placid, even with all the music and calling. But then so was she, so cool and together, so focussed on her exercises. She hardly ever spoke, although the baby was always being cooed over by the other women. Even Janey and I had a peek and came over all gooey. She just smiled and said what a good boy he was.
On the day that she first really came to my attention she was in the front line like she always was so she could be near the door if her baby cried. We were in the row immediately behind. The aerobics instructor turned on the CD. “Pump Up the Volume”, we always started with that, and soon we were all pumping away like mad and breathing was hard and the sweat began to run off us. Janey was breathing real ragged – she’d had a smoke on the way here. “Yeah, I know, ” she’d said when I’d looked sideways at her. “Well, you’re not my mum.” But she’d thrown down the cigarette anyway.
In front of us Deborah Sullivan was also working hard. We were doing repeating knee lifts and her light blue sports crop top had an even darker blue line of sweat down the middle of her back. She was very slim with a good shape, even after the baby, and a bottom to die for. It’s perfection was accentuated by the rhythmic lift of her right leg swinging from down on the floor right up until her knee was under her chin. Her waist was bare where the crop top ended but the sweat continued running downwards into the cleft of her buttocks and made the tight lycra pants as dark down there as the crop top. I didn’t realise I was staring until Janey paused in her rhythm to lean across, “Great backside, now I know why you wanted to give her a nine – I reckon you fancy her more than the men!”
I knew better than to answer. Denial would be useless, it would be better to play along so I sort of winked and nodded. Janey grinned and picked up her rhythm.
We moved from knee lifts to body twists with our elbows up and hands tucked under our chins. Debbie swung to her left in my direction and I couldn’t help looking still as I swung away in the same direction and I peeked out of the corner of my eye. Her eyes were closed in concentration so she didn’t see me looking back at her. With her arms in that raised position and her torso twisting three-quarters on to me I could see the shape of one quite large and perfect breast, squashed by the crop top and with the nipple very prominent. Again the sweat had collected under her breast making the blue of her top even darker just there. God, I wished that I looked like that. She was perfect, she was tall and slim – though not as tall as me – with big boobs. Mine were a reasonable 34B but on my frame they looked too small. In that moment, with her rib cage heaving with effort and the dark patches of sweat in all the strategic places she was truly, sexually beautiful; with her long hair hanging straight down the sides of her face and that perfect figure. If those two guys had to choose between either of us and her we wouldn’t have stood a chance.
“No, it’s got to be a ten.” I breathed as the exercise came to an end. I said it out loud but didn’t realise until Janey looked across at me
“Whoa baby,” she said, “now I am getting worried!” She was grinning as she said it but there was a look of devilish mischief in her eye that meant I was in for some serious ragging when we got back to school. “Anyway,” she continued, “it’s only because she’s breast feeding.”
“What?” I didn’t get it.
“Her tits, you were staring at her tits,” she whispered. “They’re only that size because she’s still breast-feeding. They’ll be the same as mine when she’s back to normal.” Janey wiped her face then looped her towel over her shoulder and looked down at herself. She cupped a hand under each breast and hefted them through the lycra. They were quite big, I thought. I’d not really noticed before, but they did seem to be quite a bit bigger than I’d realised.
“You’re putting on weight.” I said maliciously. We both knew it wasn’t true.
We continued at the gym every week religiously. I was determined to get Janey through. The guys were regular too and our exchanges had developed into an easy sexual banter that was just teasing really. We were flattered – well I was, Janey was frustrated and took it much further. She even flashed her boobs at one of them one time when she’d caught him looking at her from the other side of the room. She was doing stretches and just slipped the edge of her tank top up with one hand while bending over sideways. You should have seen his face! He just kind of grinned and shook his head in amazement. Nobody else saw – least I don’t think so – nobody said anything anyway.
Debbie Sullivan was always there too. Her baby got bigger and he began to be awake sometimes but just lay there big eyes staring all around. He was really good. I did get some ragging about “fancying” her but Janey didn’t ever take it to the extremes that I though she might, even when she caught me staring again. I couldn’t help it though- her waist was getting slimmer but her boobs weren’t getting any smaller despite what Janey had said. She was still a goddess.
Our birthdays came and went and so did the county trials! Despite the cigarettes and the lack of real effort Janey got in, much to the disappointment of the beanpole. Janey was a natural. Her aggression on the field was phenomenal and sometimes got her into trouble. She never gave up on anything and often went head to head with the opposition threatening all kinds of violence until the ref. intervened. The only time I ever saw her beaten in anything – the moment that probably defined both our lives forever -came in the quarter-finals of the all England Schools Cup.
We’d done really well to get that far – mostly thanks to Janey who was our top goal scorer. We were up against a hot team from a fee-paying school in Oxfordshire, the next county. We were the underdogs, this lot were fit and strong, and big too; and they had that confidence that seems to come from their kind of background or breeding, or whatever. But they were cool too, they didn’t let anything faze them, even when we went a goal up with twenty minutes to go.
We defended well but with ten minutes to go it happened – Janey being beaten I mean, and I swear that’s what cost us the game. Janey had broken with the ball and was streaking down the centre looking dangerous. Another goal would have sealed it but the opposition captain, a tall blonde with refined manners and a cut glass accent, calmly and quite deliberately thrust her stick between Janey’s legs and she went sprawling across the astroturf – ouch! Janey came up spitting blood and fury. We got to her quickly – just as well as the ref was still halfway down the pitch. The opposition captain didn’t back off though despite Janey’s obvious intentions, she just stood there coolly waiting as Janey shot forward shrugging off our clutching hands. Janey was on her instantly, her furious face thrusting upwards barely an inch from her opponent, screaming obscenities, her free arm – I had hold of one – reaching for the taller girl’s long blonde hair.
The blonde just leaned forward and kissed her!
Tongue and everything – straight into Janey’s open screaming mouth! Janey stopped dead, her hand on the blonde’s hair but no longer clutching for a root tearing pull, just poised there, almost a caress. It was a frozen moment that to me seemed to go on forever but in truth was so quick that it probably went unnoticed by most of the players and certainly by the spectators.
The ref came puffing up and the blonde backed off, grinning at Janey. Some of the opposition who had also been close enough to see were all giggling, hands over mouths – schoolgirl stuff. We were stunned into silence.
“Fuck you!” Janey spat, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
The blonde, looked straight back at Janey and ran just the very the tip of her tongue round her lips. “Any time,” she almost whispered. The repeat was even quieter, “any time baby,” and she winked.
We got the penalty but after that Janey just didn’t seem to be in the game. I’ve never seen her so distracted. Anger was normally good for her game and she was angry alright, with a quiet seething fury but her mind was definitely elsewhere. As a consequence the opposition scored twice and we lost by the one goal.
Afterwards, in the showers, Janey was still quietly seething, not wanting to talk to anyone – not even me let alone the coach when she came round offering commiserations. Janey showered and towelled down quickly, thrusting her gear into her bag in furious silence. I guessed what might be coming so got changed quickly myself and followed her outside. As I suspected she went round to where the opposition would come out, it was round the corner away from the waiting buses and the crowds of supporters. “Janey,” I called. She ignored me and lit up a cigarette. The jubilant laughter of the winning team came through the half-open windows of their changing rooms, billowing out with the steam from the showers. I waited, knowing better than to interfere at this stage but ready to step in if it got out of hand.
They came out in twos and threes with the tall blonde captain towards the end. They were all in smart uniforms, typical public school. Her uniform blazer was different to the others, fancier, with piped edges and a couple of enamel badges on the lapels. Off the field with some make-up on she looked older than most of the others, upper sixth form, probably around eighteen. She wore dark stockings instead of white ankle socks. She saw Janey and stopped. Janey took a drag of her cigarette as she stepped forward. The blonde stepped towards her. The last of her team lingered, sensing trouble. “It’s alright,” their captain said to them in her crisp clear accent, slightly imperious. “Tell Miss Wilkes I’ll be along in a sec.” They hesitated, “No really,” she continued, “shoo, shoo,” and gestured them away with her hands.
Oh, oh, I thought. She was a half a head taller than Janey and maybe eighteen months older, she probably thought she could take Janey but she didn’t know her like I did. I unslung my bag and prepared to step in. “Janey,” there was a warning in my voice. I glanced at my watch, “it’s five, the coach leaves at ten past. Don’t start anything.” Then the blonde held out her hand.
“Sorry about that,” she said, “the penalty I mean.”
“What the fuck was all that about!?” Janey hissed.
There was a moment’s silence. “Oh, I see, not the penalty. Well… it was a bet… a dare really” the cut-glass accent enunciated every word clearly, the out thrust hand dropped to her side.
“What bet?” Janey said.
“Well, we always award points to the opposition players – you know, “which one is most butch of course – there’s always some real dogs in most hockey teams. It’s a kind of joke. I guess it comes from being at an all-girls school. We give the highest scores to the one that would be the most… well, ‘fanciable’ I suppose” she shrugged, “you know… sexy.”
“What?” Janey was taken aback – again, and my mind immediately went back to our points scoring game in the gym.
“You came top,” she continued ” – nine out of ten, and it soon became obvious that you were also the real danger. At half time we had a bet to see if anyone would dare kiss you on the field in front of everybody – we figured that would stop you.” She smiled slightly. “We’ve done it before. We’re not dykes or anything,” she said quickly, “it just kind of puts the opposition off. No hard feelings?” She held out her hand again.
I’ve never seen Janey stunned into such complete silence before. She just stared open-mouthed but I could tell she was trying to work something out. Janey wouldn’t let anyone get the better of her like this. Janey, who was always so completely in charge – always willing to go the extra mile.
She dropped her cigarette, and stubbed it out with her foot. “Ok,” she said and took the offered hand. Then, with that mischievous smile I knew so well she said simply, “Do you want to do it again?”
“Do what?” Now it was the blonde’s turn to be taken aback.
“Kiss me again,” said Janey, still holding the blonde’s right hand only now she’d half turned it and I could see her stroking the other’s palm with her forefinger. “Only this time I get to kiss you back.”
For the first time the opposition captain appeared to be losing her poise. She coloured up then looked around. She glanced at me. “Don’t mind me,” I said quite enjoying the situation. “You can walk away if you like. I’m not part of this.”
“Or you can take a chance.” Said Janey, looking up straight into the blonde’s blue eyes. Was I imagining it, or was Janey sounding a little breathless, sexy even. I began to think this wasn’t just revenge.
The blonde seemed to make her mind up. “Ok,” she said apprehensively, “if you want to.” Janey let go of her hand and reached up to the blond hair, an echo of her move on the field. “Nine, eh? Well, you’re not so bad yourself.” The blonde gasped a little, bent her head forward and downward, lips parted slightly. Janey stood up on her toes a little and they brushed lips, their breathing noticeably heavier now. Janey’s tongue flicked out, just a touch, not penetrating. The tall blonde opposition captain’s eyes few wide open like a startled rabbit but then closed as Janey pressed her lips to the blonde’s mouth. My own feelings were taking me by surprise. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
“I can taste your cigarette.” The opposition captain murmured, eyes still closed, not pulling away, swaying slightly
“Sorry,” Janey murmured back and kissed her again, lightly.
“I don’t mind,” this, a breathless moan. The blonde flicked out her own tongue and parted Janey’s lips a little more then they both stepped in closer, hands which had been resting hesitantly on each others arms and shoulders were now more decisive, around necks and heads, fingers intertwining with hair. Suddenly they were devouring each other. They stepped back to the wall and the blonde, already unsteady on her feet, slumped against it, her arms round Janey’s neck kissing her back.
First Janey was dominant, thrusting her tongue into the blonde’s open mouth, having it sucked in return, having it bitten gently at first, but then I could see teeth really taking hold. Then Janey was receiving – furious thrusts accompanied by moans and murmurs. each returning kiss taken passionately.
I became acutely aware that someone might come round the corner any minute and as fascinated as I was I stepped away from them and peeped round. All clear so far. When I looked back I could see that things had moved way beyond kissing.
This had happened so often before, me waiting while Janey had a snog and a quick feel but there were some major differences about this encounter; like, it was Janey doing the ‘feeling’. As I watched she ran her hands up and down the blonde’s ribs pressing her thumbs, then her palms against her breasts. The blonde was doing nothing to stop her as they both carried on kissing and biting. Then Janey was tugging the blouse free from the skirt and running her hands up the inside. I could see her working away at the bra, reaching round behind.
“Just lift it”, the blonde gasped between kisses, “it’s not that tight.” The front of the blouse was rucked up on Janey’s forearms so I could see the blonde’s bare midriff and ribcage as her breasts popped free. Janey rubbed her palms over them both and squeezed and pulled them. I couldn’t help it, I found myself doing the same to mine.
Janey pulled at a nipple, and again thrust her tongue into the blonde’s mouth.
“God, I’m coming,” the blonde breathed past Janey’s tongue, then pulled away, her eyes now wide in startled surprise. “I’m coming,” she said again in complete bewilderment, “quick.” She pulled one of Janey’s hands away from her breasts and thrust it between her legs, lifting at the pleated grey skirt to get it out of the way. The dark stockings were not stockings but tights. Janey’s hand was reaching between the blonde’s legs rubbing at the harsh nylon.
“No, inside, inside,” she urged biting at Janey’s ears and neck then returning for another deep snog. Janey’s hand was quickly up at the waistband and then down again slipping inside the front of the tights while the blonde held the waistband away so Janey could get in more easily. I couldn’t see any more but I could imagine where Janey’s finger was going.
“Ooooh, yess,” she whimpered, “Oh God, yes pleease.” Her face was ecstatic, then she started to moan and clamped her lips around Janey’s tongue once more, muffling the long drawn out wail that followed. I glanced around the corner again, surely someone would come looking? I glanced at my watch, I was staggered, barely two minutes had passed since I’d warned Janey the coach would be leaving soon.
The keening wail was dying down, almost to a sob. The blonde had her arms round Janey, clinging to her for support, her head on Janey’s shoulder, eyes still closed. Janey was kissing her neck, biting at her hair, she moved her arm slightly. “Nooo, don’t take it out yet.” The blonde pleaded, “I haven’t… quite… finished… yet, …just… oooh lovely, that’s it, …just one more… please? Mmmmh. Lovely.”
She swayed a little despite clinging on to Janey then her eyes flicked open and she looked straight at me. “Sorry about that,” she apologised as if she’d dropped a biscuit or something, the refined politeness back in place, “that’s never happened before.” She began to unwind herself from Janey’s neck.
Janey laughed, “me neither.” They both pulled away from each other – embarrassment setting in.
“Look at me, I’m a mess,” the blonde captain said, “and I’m so wet. God, I hope I don’t smell on the bus on the way back.” She pulled her bra back down heaving each breast into place before tucking her dishevelled blouse back into her skirt and straightening her tie.
“Wait,” Janey said, and turned the blonde half way round.
“What is it?” she asked glancing back down over her shoulder.
“It’s alright. Your skirt is tucked into your knickers.” Janey pulled it out for her and fluffed out the pleats.
“That was awesome.” Janey breathed looking up at her. “Look, I started it to get my own back, kind of…” she took her bottom lip between her teeth, always a sign of contrition, “but when said you didn’t mind the taste of my cigarette and then you didn’t stop me from feeling your tits… well, I just… lost it. I couldn’t stop. Sorry.”
“That’s ok, really. It was just as much my fault. I didn’t want you to stop,” said the blonde, “not after a bit anyway. Look, I’ve really, really never done anything like that before- you won’t tell will you?”
“‘Course not,” Janey replied scornfully.
No, I thought, tough little Janey, it would be more than her reputation was worth back at school if this got round; it would diminish her power with the other girls, they would slaughter her. And as far as the boys were concerned, well you were a lesbian anyway if you didn’t put out on the first date – not that Janey had any trouble in that direction – but if it turned out to be true… well, where would that leave her? And me come to that, as her ‘best mate’ I would inevitably be tarred with the same brush.
“I’d better be going,” said the blonde captain, and gathered up her sports bag.
She paused and then spoke again, her poise was returning “Look, when you were really angry with me on the field, and you said…you know… ‘Fuck you,'” she reached out and touched Janey’s arm, “well come down to Bagshott’s one weekend and you can if you want to, fuck me, I mean, properly, really.”
She looked straight at Janey “For real, I mean it. I’ve got my own room and everything.”
“Carmel?” We were all startled by the voice as its owner came round the corner. I had been neglecting my self-appointed guard duty. “Carmel, are you alright? We’re all ready to go. The others said you’d be along in a minute.”
“Miss Wilkes, sorry,” said Carmel startled, “I’m just coming.” She must have realised the irony of her remark because she coloured up to the roots of her hair. Janey and I both suppressed a giggle.
Miss Wilkes looked at us suspiciously then back to Carmel’s still dishevelled appearance. “You haven’t been fighting have you?” She probably took us for two low life ruffians who wouldn’t hesitate to rough up one of her public school girls over the result of hockey match.
“No,” said Carmel hastily, “we were talking about the game, we were saying how much we’d all enjoyed it. We were exchanging names and addresses, you know.”
Miss Wilkes softened slightly. “Very well, but we’ll be late if we don’t go now. We need to get back to school in time for evening prayers or the Rector will have something to say.” Miss Wilkes, turned on her heel, “nice to meet you girls,” she nodded briefly in our direction, “thank your sports mistress for such a pleasantly spirited game, come along Carmel” and she strode off round the corner.
“Carmel Bellingham…” Carmel called back, as she hefted her bag. “Bagshott’s Independent School for Girls, we’re in the book. Quick, give me your number. She stopped and fiddled in her bag for something to write on, she found only a pen.
“Come along Carmel,” Miss Wilkes called back.
“Janey – Jane Harrison. Here,” Janey grabbed the pen and scribbled a number on the palm of Carmel’s hand. “It’s my mobile – if I ever get any credit – but you can call me on it even if it does run out. Text me!” Carmel looked as pleased as the cat that had got the cream, the dog with two tails, all of those cliché things. She closed her fist around the precious number and gripped it tightly as if she might lose it.
Carmel set off after Miss Wilkes but kept looking back, she mimed dialling a telephone and then held her hands together as if in prayer, mouthing something ‘please’ I think, then blew a kiss before finally turning and scurrying after Miss Wilkes. We could hear Miss Wilkes fading into the distance as they strode down the path towards the waiting bus. “Are you sure you showered properly Carmel? You’d better have another when you get back to school. And your blouse doesn’t look as if it’s been ironed at all, and your hair. This is most unlike you; you’re usually so well groomed.” Carmel rummaged in her bag and pulled out a hairbrush and started tugging it through her long blonde tangles, pausing to look back and wave the hairbrush in our direction before following Miss Wilkes up the steps into the bus. Even at that distance I could see her huge grin. She was one happy girl I thought.
Wow! I let it sink in. I didn’t know what to say to Janey. Janey turned to me.
“Don’t dare say a word about this will you.” It was not a question.
“‘Course not, what are best friends for?”
I have to confess that my thoughts on that score were in a bit of a turmoil. Over the past year or two I’d watched Janey with countless boys, giving her all – well, not quite her all – and it hadn’t bothered me a bit. She would go out on dates or spend hours with the boys at parties – then tell me all about it afterwards of course – and I would heartily applaud. But girls were just for friends, to share secrets with, to borrow make up from, to talk about boys with. And as far as other girls were concerned Janey and I were an exclusive two-some.
I felt curiously ambivalent. Carmel was a girl who looked like becoming very good friends with my best friend, normally the cue for a serious bout of eye scratching. But then Carmel was for sex, and if she’d been a boy I’d have approved.
I’d felt nothing of this a few minutes before as I’d watched them. Of course, initially I’d approved because Janey was putting one over on her hockey opponent. I’d been lost in admiration at Janey’s daring in offering another kiss. I’d enjoyed the way Carmel had lost her poise- her discomfort. I’d even approved when Carmel had agreed because in effect she’d shown submission and accepted Janey’s dominance. Job done, Janey wins again.
I’d been intrigued – even voyeuristically excited when the passion crept in but I think that I’d switched to ‘watching Janey with a boy’ mode by then. No threat to our friendship there. Sex and friendship don’t mix, and I wasn’t interested in Janey for sex. Obviously Carmel was. Did that make her a non-threatening honorary boy? Or was she still a girl coming between me and my best friend? I’d have to go with my feelings, but right now I wasn’t feeling much of anything.
When we got back to our own bus the others were eager to know if Janey had sorted out that “toffee nosed blonde captain”.
“Oh yes,” Janey replied grinning at me – more or less back to her old self now she was on familiar ground. “I sorted her out all right. She could hardly stand when I’d finished with her.”
One or two of them raised a ragged cheer. “Good ol’ Janey, look we’ve saved you and Sarah a seat at the back.” They moved to one side and patted the prized empty spaces.
“I’m too knackered for all that back seat singing and stuff, me and Sarah are going to have a quiet little seat by ourselves and sleep all the way home.”
This was very unusual for Janey but there was plenty of space on the coach and Janey chose a seat away from all the others. There wasn’t even anybody across the aisle. Even more unusually she pushed into the window seat first, she usually liked to be on the outside so she could take part in any “action” or gossip unless she was with a boy. She ‘shushed’ me when I started to protest, then she reached up to the luggage rack and dragged down her oversized blue and yellow anorak and spread it over the pair of us like a duvet before snuggling up to me with her head on my shoulder as the coach set off. I stared over her head out of the window into the early evening dusk as we made our way towards the motorway and the hour-long journey home. After a few moments I glanced down at Janey. Her eyes were closed, her lips were slightly parted and her breathing had the regularity of sleep. She looked vulnerable lying there, with an innocence that didn’t belong. Without Janey on the back seat to keep the party going the coach was unusually quiet and as the darkness outside became more complete the driver dimmed the interior lights. I looked around. Most of the team seemed to be asleep, there was just a quiet murmur of voices from the teachers at the front.
I was just beginning to doze off myself when Janey stirred. I looked down. Her closed eyes and steady breathing hadn’t altered. There were just a couple of strands of dark hair that had fallen across her eyes. But she wasn’t asleep. Under the puffy anorak her hand found mine and she pulled it across to her left breast and pressed my fingers into the soft flesh. I stiffened and started to pull away. “Shhh,” she whispered, even though I’d made no sound. Then opened her eyes and looked up at me. “Why not?” She whispered, holding my hand in place, “you’ve done it before.”
That was true, but not for years. Around the time we got our first bras, Janey first of course, she was always ahead of me, we had played around in the sorts of stupid little ways that I guess most girls do. I remember it gave me butterflies in my tummy when we used to scuttle off to one another’s bedrooms and lift our tops up and undo our bras so we could feel each other. But then I always felt a little “dirty” and wanted to stop long before Janey did. Janey’s older brother had told us that if you rubbed them they grew bigger. We’d done it a couple of times, Janey had even got some baby oil after I’d complained it made me sore.
“That was ages ago I whispered,” trying to pull my hand away, “we were just kids”.
“So?” hissed Janey. “It’s alright for Carmel, I didn’t get any back there, and there’re no boys on this bus to fool around with.” I couldn’t deny the logic of that. Janey used to end most school bus trips with her underwear in her bag. “So you’ll have to do.” The logic continued.
“Besides,” she whispered on, “you got randy back there too, I saw you.” That logic was also uncomfortably undeniable. “No-one will know, and I want you to.” All the while she continued to press my fingers into her breast. “I want you to.” She repeated and as I gave in I thought, “Oh well, why not? It’s not like I was really doing anything.”
“Ok I whispered, and bent down and kissed her hair.
“Mmmmh”, she sighed contentedly and her eyes closed again as she snuggled back up to me. She undid a couple of buttons on her blouse and I slipped my hand inside and rubbed the soft mound. I could feel the nipple against my palm through her bra; Janey didn’t need any padding. “Inside” she whispered, eyes still closed. I slipped a finger inside the elastic casing and felt soft warmth of her. Slowly so as not to betray what I was doing to the outside world I eased my hand right inside the bra cup and squeezed Janey’s breast rhythmically. The strength of the casing was restrictive though and I wasn’t surprised that Janey wanted more. “Undo it,” she breathed.
I started to move my hand round her back “Sit up, a bit,” I said.
“Wait silly, it’s at the front.” She stifled a giggle. “Don’t you know anything about girls?” I giggled too. A front loader, of course, I should have guessed. With Janey it was anything for ease of access. Under cover of shifting her position to get more comfortable she helped me to undo the clasp and the loose cups of the bra fell away as her breasts came free. I rubbed my hands over both of them, moving from one to the other in turn, squeezing and pulling. They were a lot bigger and heavier than the last time I’d done this. Janey purred like a contented cat. “That’s better,” she said.
All the rest of the way home I played with the softness of her, keeping my movements gentle under the anorak so they wouldn’t be obvious to anybody glancing our way. I traced the underside of each breast against her rib cage with one finger, feeling the moistness gathered there. I lifted each in turn with my whole hand before releasing its weight. As it fell back into place I kept just enough contact so that the nipple scraped against my palm with the movement. I stroked her nipples and pulled gently at them. Sometimes I put my thumb on one nipple and stretched my span so I could reach the other with my middle finger. I moved them both in unison. I soon learned exactly what she liked best, what brought the low moans, how to get the best reaction from her. Janey was in seventh heaven. I never realised before just how much she enjoyed being played with. I was getting randy too but when Janey slid her hand up to my breast and gave it a little squeeze I said a firm but quiet “no” and gently removed it.
As we neared home I realized that while I was busy up top Janey had been quietly working down below. She started to shift about a bit and had to stifle the moans. She looked up and said breathlessly, “I don’t suppose you want to finish me off?”
“I can’t reach,” I lied, “You’ll have to do it yourself.”
“Don’t stop the other though will you?” she breathed
“No, I won’t stop,” I said gently.
Janey came as the bus pulled up outside the school where our parents were waiting. She murmured and fidgeted, finally shuddering to a climax.
The lights came on and people were beginning to stand, yawning and shrugging off sleep, some reaching their arms up stretching with the same shuddering finish as Janey. I doubted if they were doing it for the same reasons though. Janey gave a final shiver then stretched her arms out above her coat. “Mmmmh, what a lovely dream.” She purred.
I pushed her off. “Come on you lump,” I said, “my arm’s going to sleep, and I want to get into my bed.”
“So do I,” she said. I looked at her. She grinned. “You know what I mean.” She said impishly.
“Yes, I replied.” I’m afraid I do.