Xylae Choose-Your-Own-Adventure-Game Now On Literotica

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New Xylae E-Book 'Transformed for Xylae'

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0GX368JP2?ref_=dbs_m_mng_rwt_calw_tkin_4&storeType=ebooks&qid=1776756985&sr=8-1

Just to let you know that the 5th Xylae book is now out. It grew pretty large coming in at 165,000 words. It has six stories and with the usual delicious latex clothing and tales of transformation and slaves, it takes the reader into areas of Xylae that I have not featured before. Consequently I have done a new map showing these areas as well as a few, not all, of those featured in previous books. I thought you might like to see the map.

A Second Map of Xylae

As it is tricky to fit on all the locations, the original map still remains relevant too.

‘Transformed for Xylae’ is a bumper collection of 6 novellas totalling over 160,000 words. It set on the slave-owning world of Xylae that lies alongside our own. Superficially more primitive, it is a planet where technology has developed differently to on Earth and Xylaean capabilities in fabrics, crossing dimensions and mind control far exceed those we know.

These 6 novellas feature a range of women who by various means are transformed and taken to fulfil various roles on Xylae, showing different facets of that world as they are turned into highly sexualised women. A community support officer, a scholar, a baroness, a merchantwoman and a thief find themselves being made variously into a slave, an owner, a mercenary, a huntress-sorceress, a playbeing and even an orc.

1. Thin Walls: Scarlet Pair – on duty where the divide between Earth and Xylae is permeable Georgia and her colleague, Hannah, begin to see an intriguing trio of women. When Hannah disappears, how will Georgia react and with what impact?

2. Voice of the Steppes – Philomena agrees to carry on her grandfather’s work not knowing the secrets she is uncovering and how they will decide her future when she becomes involved in a court case.

3. The Pais of Freedom – with mountain raiders storming Ristagar, Miranda is happy to accept a plan to help her escape the city, not knowing how a different a woman she will have become by the time she reaches Ytermouth.

4. Black Sands, Green Skins – few really know the truth about the lands of Hitebel. Beatrix travels there to discover the fate of her sister unaware that she will soon know all about the inhabitants of the unknown continent and come to enjoy their ways.

5. Into The Domain – Lavinia goes into Romundland to find her husband and his sister. Some of the rumours of the ‘domains’ prove to be very true and it is not long before she is uncertain whether she needs to quest any further.

6. One Glosine or Two? – Captured while breaking into a barge, Helena is imprisoned by a rare glosine retrieved from the river. No-one really knows what effect this will have, but ultimately Helena finds herself very highly valued.

If you have enjoyed the previous Xylae books or are new to them, I hope that you will enjoy this collection, which I feel at US$5 for that much erotic fiction is great value for money!

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0GX368JP2?ref_=dbs_m_mng_rwt_calw_tkin_4&storeType=ebooks&qid=1776756985&sr=8-1

New Contemporary Identity Change E-Book: Katherine or Katrin - A Sexual Mystery

The previous two books in this loose trilogy proved to be very popular and I hope readers will enjoy this new addition.

When she joined Baxter Electric Vehicles, Katherine Pugh had high hopes that she would be able to put her photography and software skills to good use in promoting an upcoming company. However, steadily her role has been being downplayed and the rules of the Human Resources department and the complaints that follow in their wake, are pressing her down more and more. While being part of a trade show in Berlin offers no respite from the toxic work environment, a series of apparent mistakes begin to expose Katherine to a different, very sexual lifestyle. Soon she is being mistaken for the German photographer and fashion blogger, Katrin Pütz. New friends and a psychologist begin to convince Katherine of an intriguing fact: that she might actually be Katrin for real; having worked undercover for a couple of years. While this Berlin life is enchanting, Katherine has to decide what is the truth and which existence is best for her happiness.

‘Katherine or Katrin? A Sexual Mystery’ is a sequel to ‘Monica or Monique? A Sexual Journey’ and ‘Jane or Jay? A Sexual Wager’. Featuring some characters from the previous two novels, it is a psychological sexual drama in which an ordinary woman, a toy of the powerful, is offered a much more exciting life. The novel mixes strong character-driven writing with hot sexual scenes Katherine delves deeper into her potential life with all its thrills, (back?) as Katrin.

It is now available from Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CQVN7X6L

New Vampire E-Book: Going Under The Lights

A new e-novel set in the world of vampires featured in 'Going Under' but this time in Paris. 

Aspiring British actress, Lisa travels to Paris for a small role in a German rock video. Starting off as one of the crowd in the Gothic-themed production, she is soon promoted to being one of the vampire warriors herself. An apparent gang attack near the studio leads to cast members being abducted. Dressed as she is, Lisa finds herself mistaken for a genuine vampire. Rescued by Simone, Lisa finds that all that she might have believed to be confined to movies about vampires and werewolves too is actually real. It is not long before she is mixed up in the ongoing war between the species in an attempt to rescue some of the others from the video production before they are turned. This novel sees a woman enjoying engaging with her love of women and becoming a deft vampiress clad in leather and latex, indulging in all sexual satisfaction that this new life provides.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CK9QQVWN

Contemporary UK Story: The New Version Part 1

While not a sequel to either story, this one exists in the same ‘universe’ of avatars and altering reality which features in 'Hahsni' and 'The Replacement Lover' and, to some extent, 'More than an Ally' and 'That Personal Experience'. This story, especially Lia’s outfit, was heavily influenced by a couple I saw in Nottingham.

The New Version

Part 1

Bethany was sure that was Antonio. The question was, who the woman was walking with him this evening. Antonio, or ‘Andy’ as he insisted Bethany call him, had been seeing her mother for the past three months and she had imagined that the relationship was developing into something long term. While she had been bringing up Bethany, her mother, Gillian, had been focused on her daughter. However, starting her degree course, Bethany had moved out and into a shared house. It was only across the city from where she had been raised, but her intention was, now that she was into her twenties and far from being a child, her mother would feel freed from worrying about her and instead could look to her own life. Antonio coming into it had seemed to be a good step. He was around Gillian’s age and height, with a salt-and-pepper moustache. He dressed trendily for a man of his years, just avoiding looking as if he was trying to be twenty years younger.

What concerned Bethany this morning was that he seemed to be with another woman. This one was his height too, but unlike Gillian she had tightly trimmed hair dyed a dark purple shade with blonde highlights at the tips. She was also dressed in an outfit that Bethany could not imagine her mother wearing. It was entirely of black leather – a smart, kind of cropped café racer-style jacket, tight pocketless trousers and fashionable moto boots with stud detailing. Bethany wondered if this woman was a colleague of Antonio’s and then perhaps a relative. She had heard that Italian women were into their leather. Bethany guessed it was not her business who Antonio met with. However, she did feel that she had some duty to see if he was cheating on her mother. The pair stopped and Bethany kept walking drawing closer to them.

Antonio reached up and touched the woman’s hair. As she turned and smiled at him, Bethany would have sworn it was her mother’s profile. However, as she slowed her pace but continued to look again, the differences were increasingly apparent. The red lipstick was brighter than any shade her mother had worn and she certainly had never shaded her eyelids or her cheeks that way. This woman wore glasses as her mother did, but they had trendy black rectangular frames. Bethany then guessed that if Antonio was going to cheat with another woman, it was likely that he would go for one looking similar to Gillian. Then Bethany was uncertain if that was how it worked. Antonio kissed the woman on the lips. She seemed to hesitate but then was responding, kissing him back, pulling his hand round so it clasped her bum held in its smooth tight leather.

Almost without thinking, Bethany lifted her phone and quickly snapped pictures of the kissing couple then more as they broke. The woman even seemed to glance in her direction for a moment. Bethany kept clicking away feeling that if she was going to prove to her mother that Antonio was being unfaithful, she needed to have good, clear evidence. Then Antonio raised his hand as if waving to someone. Bethany’s eye was caught by the gesture and then she realised that somehow in those moments the woman in leather had stepped away. Bethany looked around, but despite the woman’s distinctive hair and clothes, she could not spot her any more. Bethany accepted the woman must have gone behind something or into a car; there had to be a rational explanation.

While Bethany was thinking over what had happened, Antonio had moved away and she just caught sight of him further up the street walking briskly, perhaps she would have said in a jaunty manner. Bethany felt conflicting emotions. Part of her continued to argue it was all something innocent, but in contrast the kiss had seemed much more passionate than she would have expected if Antonio had been with a relative or a colleague. Having come to the conclusion that she had witnessed infidelity, even if he had only been seeing her mother some months, Bethany still had the challenge of what to do with the information. She knew it would be hard for Gillian to face that she had been treated this way; she had been so enthusiastic about how good Antonio was for her. She might, Bethany imagined, deny it all; say that her daughter had somehow got it wrong. While Bethany was keen the two of them established their own lives now, she certainly did not want that to come at the price of a serious rift between them. Then Bethany considered springing the news on her mother might worsen the situation and lead to Gillian to rush off into an even less suitable relationship, certainly than how the one with Antonio had appeared to be at the start.

Recognising that this needed careful handling, Bethany felt it important to do nothing rash; to sleep on it. She headed home to her small flat she rented. It was part of a large house that had been split up and so was popular with students like her. However, unlike being in halls, she could close out the world and potter around her own small kitchen and bathroom with no-one to bother her. She got herself a tea and sat down to flick through social media before deciding what to eat tonight when there was a knock at her door. Going to it, she was not surprised to find it was Zoë. She took some of the same modules as Bethany and had always seemed keen to collaborate on stuff. She often turned up with some food or cakes she had prepared; typically with wine or beer. More than once she had ended up crashing on Bethany’s sofa or had to be ordered a taxi back to her own place.

At times Bethany felt put out by Zoë’s earnestness. However, she guessed the woman meant no harm. Added to that, Bethany would have to say she was pretty cool, dressed in a kind of snazzy urban casual style and she certainly seemed to know all the best bands and places to go. After Lauren had proven to be so selfish and that huge row with Mia, Bethany realised that if nothing else, ‘Zozo’ as she had ended up contracting the woman’s name to, was reliable. She did, however, have a tendency to turn up right at Bethany’s place, especially in the evening, when most other women would have just pinged her via one social media site or another.

‘Bee, glad you’re in. I got some cranberry-orange muffins I made and there’s the “space” version, if you want to be daring.’

While in some ways Zoë came over as a nerd and certainly put in the work she needed to do, and more, for the course, she was also that little bit edgy. While Bethany had not seen her smoke, she did know she went in for hash cakes. Not being one happy ever to lose control, Bethany always refused politely. However, Zoë had not yet given up on trying to convert her.

‘Zo … Zozo, you are too good to me,’ she said half-joking.

Then, however, she realised that Zoë might be the one to help her out with the issue around her mother. Bethany was sure she was in some groups connected to women’s issues and maybe she could give what was felt to be the right perspective on men cheating.

‘No, I am really glad to see you; I need some help,’ Bethany continued now more seriously as if she had to convince Zoë of that.

‘Of course, Bee, you know, I’m always here for you; whatever you need.’

Bethany smiled warmly. ‘I love you for that, Zozo.’

For a moment Zoë’s face seemed intense.

‘Sure … that makes me … well, glad, you know.’

‘Good. Come through.’

In the living room, Zoë took off the biker leather jacket she seemed to almost always wear. Beneath was a tight-fitting midnight blue camisole-like top in a satiny finish, it had slightly capped sleeves.

‘You got the tattoo,’ Bethany noticed.

‘Yes … I thought … well … do you like it?’

It was a kind of geometric floral pattern on the inside of her left forearm. Bethany was not really into tattoos still associating them at best with celebrities or more often with criminals or bikers. However, she had to admit Zoë’s had a beauty to it. Almost without thinking she reached out and ran her finger gently around the pattern. Realising what she was doing, she snatched it back.

‘Sorry,’ she said.

‘No … no worries; you can keep doing that if you like.’

There were times when Bethany did not understand properly what Zoë meant by things. She accepted though that was probably why she had the style which Bethany felt she lacked. Tonight she was in dark blue leather leggings with ribbed patches at the knee and the back of her calves. Her boots were black moto style. Bethany found she sometimes felt Zoë was best equipped for riding around the city post-apocalypse and then days when she turned up in huge sweaters and baggy jeans; laced up boots and looked ready to work a North Sea trawler.

In the next few minutes, Bethany did what she felt was right to do as a host. She poured out the dark ale that Zoë had got at a micro-brewery and set out the muffins on a plate, separating the hash ones from the standard. Then, as usual, the two women squeezed on to the small sofa that had come with the flat.

‘Nice muffins, thanks,’ Bethany said politely.

‘No worries, Bee, you know I like to make you stuff you’d like.’

‘I appreciate it; always, you know that.’

For a moment Zoë looked at Bethany a little intensely but then smiled, brushing a strand of her friend’s hair away from her face.

‘But you’ve got something else you need a hand with, yes?’

Bethany nodded and then reached for her phone. Soon she had the images up and was flicking through them.

‘So that’s your Mum? Wow, she’s cool. Would she you lend you some of her stuff? I know you’d look so good in those leathers, Bee; you ought to give them a go.’

Bethany guessed she should have expected Zoë to like the woman’s outfit. For herself all she had in leather was a couple of belts and a pair of smart shoes. She was much more a teeshirt, fleece, joggers and trainers woman. She certainly did not feel she could get away with even what Zoë wore, let alone the woman in the shots.

‘No, that is what I am saying. That is Mum’s … well, boyfriend; “man” – whatever you want to call him, but that’s not her.’

‘Oh, okay, but she looks alike. I thought it was her: the face shape; the glasses.’

It took some moments for Bethany to even remember when Zoë had seen Gillian. Then she recalled that day right at the beginning of the year and, of course, the photos she had on her laptop of her mother. Had there not been one evening when they had talked about families and what their plans were in that direction? She struggled to remember what Zoë had said.

‘I guess she looks a bit like Mum … but, well, she would never dress like that.’

‘Maybe she had a makeover; maybe she was wearing things Antonio bought her. You know, well, she is free and single and they say it’s the sexiest time in a woman’s life.’

Bethany had heard such comments before. However, the change from the woman she knew so well, seemed too extreme.

‘No, she’d never dress like that and the hair.’

‘Is it so outrageous?’ Zoë said tapping her own hair.

Hers was probably as short as that of the women in the picture, though shaded a very dark blue.

‘But you’re half her age; even less.’

‘So are you. Surely you could have a hairstyle like that then?’

Bethany chuckled a little wearily. This was a line that had been becoming a little tiresome from Zoë recently: her suggesting that Bethany make some radical change in style.

‘Come on, be serious. I would look an idiot like that and my Mum would too.’

‘Okay, so you think she’s dressing; having hairstyles that are too young for her? That is the problem?’

‘No, it’s … it’s what I said at the start: this isn’t my Mum. This is another woman that Antonio – “Andy”,’ she mocked, ‘is seeing; is snogging.’ She gestured to the picture of them both kissing. ‘I just want to know how to tell Mum. I don’t want her hurt but I also don’t want her being cheated on.’

Zoë nodded, now looking sage, as if she had understood all of this from the start. ‘Well, it certainly looks like these two are getting it on.’

‘Yes, and when Antonio is supposed to be … well, loyal to Mum. Is that too much to ask these days?’

Zoë shook her head, though effectively in agreement and sending the long straight earring on her left ear shaking back and forth. Bethany saw now that she had a stud in the right side of her nose that she had not noticed before. Perhaps it was new. For a moment Bethany thought about saying something about how Zoë was dressed and looking these days. Now with the tattoo and the nose stud, perhaps she was looking a bit too ‘alternative’ for Bethany to be seen with her. She guessed though, if nothing else, it would be foolish to say anything when she was asking the woman for some kind of help. Maybe, though, next time when she called, Bethany would pretend to be out.

‘No, no woman should have to put up being treated like that by a man … by a woman; by anyone they are close to; have opened themselves up to.’

Bethany smiled in response, pleased that she and Zoë were in accord on the issue.

‘So, what do I do? Do I tell Mum straight out or email or text her or something? What is the best way?’

‘It is down to you Bee: you know your Mum best. However, I think there is another option. Why not go to Antonio and tell him that you have seen him and that he ought to be honest with your Mum. Is he likely to get … well, angry?’

Bethany shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. He certainly does seem to be a violent man. He has all that “I am a lover, not a fighter” line and as he’s Mum’s age, so I don’t imagine him flailing around with his fists.’

‘Well, that’s good then. So, meet up with him and tell him you know about him and this other woman and he needs to come clean to Lia.’

For a moment the name ‘Lia’ drew Bethany up short, but then she remembered that it was precisely the contraction Antonio used of her mother’s name. Bethany realised she must have mentioned this at some time to Zoë. Having got past that, she reflected on the advice.

‘Look, if you’re worried that he might get annoyed or something, I’ll come with you for support. You know I’m always here for you, Bee.’

‘Thank you, you’re a …’ Bethany was about to say ‘good friend’ but given what she had decided about distancing herself a little from Zoë she pulled back from that. ‘You’re a real help, Zozo – Zoë.’ Bethany felt that dropping the contraction was probably a good idea too. ‘But I think I’ve got to do this on my own.’

‘Okay …’ Zoë responded tentatively. ‘I was going to say “are you sure?” but I know there’s nothing worse than that and anyway it’s patronising.’

‘No, it’s alright.’

While it was not the approach that she would have come up with herself, Bethany was now seeing the sense in Zoë’s suggestion. Then, however, she realised that she had got what she needed from the woman and it was probably best to begin to put some distance between them. Maybe she had been careless in not seeing how Zoë was becoming; the growing ‘alternative’ aspects to her style. She wondered if it had been one reason why Cristina had become distant.

‘So, are you going to try one of the space ones?’ Zoë asked eagerly.

‘No, thanks.’ She looked to her phone ostentatiously. ‘Look Zoë I still have that reflective journal to finish for tomorrow. I need to get on with that,’ Bethany lied.

‘Oh, right. I thought you’d done it.’

‘No … no, I realised I had mucked it up. I started again.’

‘Do you want me to have a look at it; help out?’

‘No, better not. If I keep at it tonight, I should get it redone by the deadline.’

‘Okay, if that’s what you want.’

Zoë clearly understood she was being dismissed. She retrieved her biker jacket.

‘I’ll leave the rest of the muffins and the beer.’

‘Thanks but … well, it’s not really my taste,’ Bethany continued to lie.

‘Ah, okay.’

‘Thanks though … for bringing them over … for baking them.’

‘It was … it was my pleasure, Bee.’

Zoë looked a little embarrassed as she said that. She made no further move to the door and then, to Bethany, as if she was expecting her to say something.

‘You know … you know, well, we get on well and I … well, if you like I could … you know … stay over; help you with the reflective journal stuff.’

‘That’s kind. But … you know what’ll happen, we will end up talking half the night instead and I’ll feel … well, tired tomorrow.’

‘Sure.’

‘Are you worried about getting across town … it’s not that late but I can call a cab if you’d prefer.’

Zoë gave a weak smile. ‘Thanks, no, I should be alright. I probably need to do some walking; some thinking about things.’

Bethany now wondered what had made Zoë sound so subdued. Maybe she was upset about the muffins or maybe, Bethany realised now, she had needed to talk to Bethany about something. She felt a bit foolish then; rather selfish too, that she had simply gone on about her ‘problem’. For a moment she worried that she was getting to be too much like Lauren.

‘Look, Zoë, if you need to talk … I am probably not the best person, but you can always call me; message me, something, okay?’

Zoë nodded slowly.

‘And you, me. Let me know how it goes about your Mum.’

‘Sure,’ Bethany responded but felt it was a kind of price she had to pay for asking for help. ‘And we can … well, do something, maybe this weekend, yes?’

‘Well, you’re coming to see Arcenciel?’

For a moment, Bethany did not know who she was referring to, but then it clicked. ‘Hakim and Rob’s band?’

‘Yeah, you remember; we all said we would go and support them.’

Bethany did remember making some commitment to the two men who were on her course. ‘So where are they playing?’

‘They’re on stage at Pride; in the park.’

‘Right,’ Bethany said then.

She felt torn then between the commitment she had made and turning up at the Pride event. Though she would argue strongly that she was not bigoted and had no problem with gay men, they were quite sweet, she did worry that, somehow, she would find herself being hauled off by a very butch lesbian.

‘I always worry if I go … then people will think I am … you know, gay; a lesbian.’

‘I guess it is an easy mistake to make.’

‘What? I thought this stuff looks … well, you know, like I’m clearly straight.’

‘Well, there’s no … I was going to say “badge” but I guess lesbians are women like any other women. Don’t worry about it; I’ll be there to fight off the big, bad butches if they try to lay a finger on you.’ Zoë offered with a smile. ‘But you’ll come. I’m sure it’ll be fun and …’

‘And what?’

‘You might surprise yourself.’

Bethany wondered if it would be as bad as she was imagining it. Was there that much harm in wearing a rainbow hat and seeing some women kissing each other? Half the celebrities she read about these days seemed to have same-sex relationships, at least some of the time. Going might build up her credibility a bit and she did feel sorry for Hakim and Rob and the other guys who played with them.

‘Right, it’s a date then. I’ll come by at twelve. We can have some lunch before heading out; this place is nearer.’

‘Yes, sure,’ Bethany agreed, though not certain really what to.

Her response seemed to brighten up Zoë who leant in and then did that gentle ‘bump’ kiss on Bethany’s lips. Normally they simply hugged, but there were times Zoë felt compelled to do this, saying it was something from her childhood. Bethany guessed she could not complain especially as after this meet-up on Saturday, she was going to be fully scaling down her contact with the woman. Zoë held her hand as she walked to the door and Bethany went along with it. She smiled and gave a cute wave as Bethany closed the door. She waited until she heard the retreating footsteps before locking it, feeling it as much symbolic as practical.

For some reason, Bethany wanted to run over everything Zoë had said, but told herself it was pointless to get too wrapped up in what that woman was thinking. She guessed she had to be grateful, though, for her suggestion about tackling the problem of Antonio and going straight to him. With that decision feeling fixed in her mind, Bethany went off to make some dinner, feeling a little foolish for passing up on the muffins, which, if she had to tell the truth, had been delicious.

Contemporary UK Story: The New Version Part 2

The New Version

Part 2

Bethany stepped out from the cinema, her mind running with what she had seen. She always thought of herself as appreciating ‘serious’ movies; more than happy to watch subtitled ones. This one had had an intricate plot and some great visuals and she was almost bubbling with wanting to talk with someone about them. The only one of her friends who had similar tastes was Zoë. She even spoke French and understood some German, Bethany was sure. However, while she was content enough to go with a gang to watch some blockbuster, going just with one other was too much like a date. As it was, she was still apprehensive about being mistaken for a lesbian at the Pride event tomorrow and did not want to add any fuel to rumours by being in a cinema with just another woman.

Pressing on through the pedestrian area, dotted with various bars and food outlets, Bethany imagined she would have to settle for discussing the movie online. Now she wondered whether she should pick up a takeaway to save cooking when she got in. She had long ago sworn off eating in a restaurant, even a fast-food place, alone. The men who thought she was signalling she was desperate to make hot love with any one of them who pitched up, had long ago become tiresome. Thinking about that, though, Bethany felt a bit heartened that she clearly looked like she was into men rather than women. In turn, it reassured her that if she turned up tomorrow dressed like this, no woman would make a mistake.

Something then stopped Bethany where she stood. It took some moments for her to realise what it was. Ahead of her a few metres was Antonio. He was sat at one of the outside tables of an Italian café-bar that she was sure her mother had mentioned. Spring was well advanced and while she would not have done it, Bethany could see some felt it warm enough to sit outside. Bethany stood where she was for the moment, looking at Antonio and then around him. However, unless whoever he was with was stuck in the toilet, it appeared as if he was alone; there was only a single glass of wine at his table, she now noticed. Part of her wanted to saunter past and perhaps, only if he noticed her, would she stop and quickly say ‘hello’. That, Bethany recognised, was the coward’s option and it would do nothing to help her mother.

Feeling a bit hypocritical that she had turned down Zoë’s offer of help and yet now felt in need of it, Bethany gritted her teeth and walked up to Antonio’s table. Almost immediately he became aware of the shadow cast by the walkway’s lighting being cast across him. He turned to look up and grinned widely.

‘Bellissima,’ he said warmly, standing.

Bethany shuddered at his nickname for her.

‘Antonio …’

‘Call me Andy. Come sit, are you in a hurry? Off to meet up with someone?’

Bethany accepted his invitation and took a chair opposite him. ‘No, I was on my way home but … I thought we should talk.’

‘Can I get you a drink? Some wine; a cocktail?’

‘A coffee will be fine.’

Antonio made that face at her that she already knew too well as signalling disapproval of her choice. However, she guessed she had to accept he never made any greater protest and he ordered what she had asked for.

‘My Lia – your mother – will be here soon. Did she say she was coming here?’

Bethany shook her head. ‘No, I was just at the cinema,’ she nodded in that direction. ‘I just caught sight of you here.’

Antonio nodded. ‘And your friend? Your lover?’

Bethany coughed at that. ‘No, I went alone; it is allowed.’

Antonio nodded sombrely as if disappointed not with her, but at how the world treated her. ‘I am sorry to hear that, Bella, a girl – sorry, a lady – like you, should never have to be alone.’

Bethany felt that she should argue that she was not ‘alone’ and she was sure, especially if she tolerated some of the dorky men on her course, she could have a date. Now, though, she worried that she was getting taken off track and focused on what she had to say. She wanted to get it out before her mother, if she was indeed coming here, turned up.

‘I was walking by and saw you; thought I should say “hello”.’

‘Yes, thank you. It is good to talk; you and I. One day we might be relatives.’

It took a moment for Bethany to realise what he meant. Then, however, she felt it was quite defiant of Antonio to talk of the potential of marriage to her mother while he was already cheating on her.

‘I saw you the other day; early evening. I didn’t come over because … well, frankly, because you were with a woman.’

Antonio chuckled at that and Bethany wondered what excuse he would produce.

‘So you saw her?’

‘Erm, yes I did.’

‘And you thought she looked good?’

Bethany was uncertain how to respond to that. Though she had not known Antonio that long, up until this week she had thought him to be an honest man and proud without being arrogant.

‘What am I supposed to say?’

‘Well, I do hope you like her style. I really think Lia is going to like it too. It’s the … how would I put it … the updating she needs, don’t you agree?’

Now Bethany tried to work out what was going on. Rather than this being something he was going to conceal from Gillian, it appeared as if he was going to involve her. Bethany thought she knew her mother well, but had she somehow got into ‘swinging’; ‘having a three-way’? While Bethany accepted that her mother was an adult and free to make her own choices, she was concerned Antonio had somehow tricked her.

‘I guess now you have seen what I can do, I have no need to worry about how to broach the subject. I have an ability; a very old skill. Some might call it magic. I can create what I guess you would call these days, avatars. However, they are only temporary. The way we shape what we create is really a model, a blueprint – a CAD I guess it is now. Then the person absorbs it and becomes just like that.’

This sounded very bizarre and Bethany worried now that Antonio, if not mad, was badly deluded. She conceded it might be some kind of adult game he was playing with Gillian and she was reminded of what Zoë had said about her having a makeover. Perhaps it was no surprise if Antonio wanted to splash out on hairstyling and clothing for his girlfriend. Bethany would concede that some would have found what she had seen that woman in was stylish, even sexy.

‘I have done it rarely in my life; I am not like my brother. So, it is good to hear you could see the avatar and it was not just appearing to my senses. That is good: shall I put it all in place when Lia arrives?’

Bethany really felt she had lost control of this conversation. All that Antonio seemed to be saying sounded crazy. However, there was an earnestness about him that kept making her think he was genuine and she had simply misunderstood. As far as she could grasp it, the woman she had seen was some kind of model for a makeover Antonio was buying Gillian and he now felt confident to reveal his plan this evening.

‘Hi, guys,’ Gillian said cheerfully as she approached the table.

Bethany looked at her mother somehow expecting her to be appearing very changed. However, she was as usual. Gillian had on a coral sweater with a new set of pearls, under her turquoise mac jacket and that oatmeal knee-length skirt. These were her ‘going out’ clothes that she wore for an evening. It looked as if her pale chestnut hair had been trimmed. It still reached just to brush her shoulders, though, certainly not as cropped as the woman; the ‘avatar’ that Bethany had seen.

Antonio stood and gave his girlfriend a quick kiss. Bethany then felt how she had failed. Antonio had danced around her with all the stuff about avatars and plans for Gillian. They had not even got to whether he was being unfaithful and it seemed unlikely he would admit such to her mother. Perhaps, Bethany reflected, he did not even really understand what he had done.

‘I didn’t know you were coming, dear,’ Gillian said smiling at her daughter though keeping with her usual manner made no effort to kiss or hug her.

‘No, it wasn’t planned. I was just passing. I had been in the cinema,’ she again nodded back that way.

‘With Zoë? Sorry, “Zozo”, I know that’s what you call her.’

‘No, I went on my own.’

‘Not a falling out, I hope? You know I think she is good for you.’

Bethany could not remember her mother ever mentioning Zoë, let alone expressing an opinion on her and she imagined she had mixed her up with someone entirely different, perhaps one of Bethany’s school friends.

‘Erm, well, you know students; we’re busy; a lot of essays,’ Bethany offered.

She looked to her mother with a smile. Something about her seemed different. Bethany imagined though that it was perhaps because she was tired or maybe seeing it in the orange glow of the café’s lights. However, her mother’s lipstick appeared to be darker now and her coat had taken on a shine.

‘It is taking,’ Antonio said. ‘It’s working Lia.’

‘Lia,’ Gillian repeated. ‘We can really make that real?’

Antonio nodded. ‘Yes, your Bellissima confirmed it for me. She saw the avatar when I was out practicing. I obviously have got further than I thought. Maybe not up to Lorenzo’s level, but still.’

Gillian smiled and closed her eyes. ‘I am ready.’

Now Antonio grasped her hands in his and closed his own eyes, breathing deeply. Bethany was not clear what was happening. Magic, of course, was impossible. However, something made her find it hard to challenge all that Antonio had said; in part because her mother seemed to believe it wholeheartedly.

For some moments, she wondered if anything was actually going to change. She had dismissed the ‘changes’ in her mother’s make-up as some mistake on her part. However, as Gillian moved a little the leather of her sleeve creaked. Bethany closed her eyes and opened them worrying that something like tiredness or stress, perhaps low blood sugar, was making her hallucinate. Her mother’s hair was now much shorter than when she had sat down and it was darkening. Bethany would not accept that it would soon have that dark purple shade, but part of her knew for certain it would.

The coral sweater now seemed to have already disappeared and in its place was a tight-fitting top, that almost as she watched began to have a monochrome leopard-skin pattern, with glints from it. Her mac jacket was now replaced by a cropped black leather one and Bethany imagined that her mother’s skirt somehow would now be the tight leather trousers she had seen that other woman wearing. That other woman, Bethany struggled to accept, had somehow been a future version of what Antonio would make her.

‘Yes, so attraente; this is good,’ Gillian said breathlessly.

Bethany knew her mother had started learning Italian, but her accent seemed to have been perfected. Gillian – or was she now fully Lia? – grasped her ample breasts in both hands. Their nails were long and were painted with gems studding them.

‘Questo è buono,’ she added approvingly.

Bethany had no idea if the transformation was complete, but her mother did still look like the woman who had sat down, but the make-up; the hair, the jewellery, the tight leather clothes, made her appear like some long-lost Italian cousin. Bethany kept picking up small things like the stud in her mother’s nose and the number of gold rings, including what was clearly a wedding ring though far larger than any Bethany’s father might have bought.

Lia now leant in to kiss her boyfriend; her husband, the man who had made her this. Flagrantly she rubbed her ample breasts against him and reached to grope his crotch. Bethany wondered if somehow Antonio had entranced her, changed her mind or had simply released suppressed urges from deep in Lia. Perhaps that was what had attracted Gillian to Antonio in the first place even before she had known what he could truly do to her; for her.

‘So … you are married.’

‘Of course,’ Lia responded.

Her accent was British with only some Italian tinges, for which Bethany was grateful. She did not want to have to learn another language simply to speak to her mother.

‘You remember, Bella, five years ago. You were such a pretty bridesmaid.’

‘I should explain,’ Antonio said. ‘The avatars – yes, they change the present but they do that by altering decisions in the past. I cannot make anyone into anything they could not have chosen for themselves.’

‘But you altered history. Mum didn’t know you five years ago.’

‘But a decision to shop somewhere a bit different; perhaps go to a bar one night, those are hardly radical changes.’

Bethany guessed she could see it. If her mother had not had to scrimp to pay rent and utilities; had a man around who wanted to buy her clothes and other lovely things, then she could have ended up like this. While a man being able to alter history, even in small ways, seemed fantastical, given what she had witnessed and what she had heard now, she guessed she was in no position to deny it.

‘Is it done?’

‘Is what done, Bella?’ Lia asked.

For a moment that nickname sounded strange coming from her mother but quickly Bethany accepted she had been using it for years. It was just the same with her mother. She had long thought of her as Lia; ‘Gillian’ was now only for official documents.

‘She won’t know that anything has been any different,’ Antonio explained softly. ‘Sooner or later you will forget too and think that what she is has always been that way. It depends on the individual.’

Bethany found herself seeking to grasp for all that she could remember of her mother as Gillian rather than Lia, certainly not as trendily dressed as the woman in front of her. There was something in Lia’s manner that was different too, a kind of sassiness, certainly a sexiness that had been absent but was now at the forefront of her personality. Lia Stregone was far more confident than Gillian Wilkins had been.

‘Let’s have more wine,’ Lia said. ‘Bella, do you want a glass or a bottled beer?’

Bethany looked at her mother finding it rather difficult to accept that this woman was that. However, she found an increasing amount of memories of her mother being this way; even of the wedding she had mentioned. Were these false memories? Was Antonio pulling off some kind of hypnotism? That seemed a reasonably rational explanation. Was it a bad thing? Yes, perhaps, Bethany said to herself, he should have accepted her mother the way she was; her manner; her choice in clothes. However, she had been seemingly accepting of the changes; was even enjoying them. That, was, of course, unless Antonio had already hypnotised her to be accepting of them. Bethany knew too little of how that all worked but was sure she had heard that no-one could be hypnotised to do something that was completely against what they wanted or accepted.

‘No, mamma,’ Bethany was a little surprised when she said it. ‘No … thanks, the coffee is fine.’

While her mother sought to catch the attention of the waiter, Antonio leant in a little closer to Bethany.

‘You know … sometimes there are ripples … ripples out from the person who takes the avatar, especially to those related to them. Do you feel anything strange at all, Bella?’

For a moment Bethany felt like responding, ‘you mean aside from seeing my mother’s boyfriend – my step-father – transform my mother from a mousey middle-aged woman into a sex goddess while we sat here?’ Instead she shook her head.

‘Was that the blue hair shade you had this morning?’

‘Blue?’

For a moment Bethany thought it was a joke. She picked up her phone and switched it to mirror mode. She saw then that her nails were trimmed and painted a dark blue shade. That was different. The reflection she saw on her phone showed these ‘ripples’ had gone further. Rather than the shoulder-length hair, a slightly darker shade than her mother’s and typically in a ponytail, now she had a short cut, even shaved up the sides and, as Antonio had noted, it was blue. Bethany had never coloured her hair and certainly would not even consider a stand-out shade like this. Then she caught sight of the silver ring arching through the right side of her nostril and knew that whatever Antonio had done to her mother was having effect.

‘What is going on?’ Bethany asked.

She did not look up as she realised that her clothes had changed too. In place of the plain white teeshirt she now wore a dramatic printed one with a rose motif in red and black. This was under the black leather biker jacket she had on. He left wrist held an old-fashioned watch on a thick leather strap and her right, numerous leather and metal bracelets. Reaching down she was now not surprised to find her joggers had been replaced by leather jeans and her trainers with patent laced-up boots rather like ones Zozo had. A broad belt with tightly aligned rows of studs sat on her hips. Perhaps she would have worn this for a fancy-dress party, but even then, Bethany imagined, she would have felt it had gone too far.

Now Bethany looked at Antonio. ‘What is happening to me; I look completely different. What are these ripples? How do you stop this?’

‘Bella – what is the matter?’

Antonio looked at her with an expression which showed uncertainty. If memories were appearing in her mind that were new; was the same happening for Antonio? For her mother? Did they think the way she appeared now was the way she typically appeared? Memories of her mother prompting her to buy certain things, especially in leather, and mother-daughter shopping trips that moments ago she could not imagine happening, were now in Bethany’s mind.

‘I … I am not sure. Things seem to be changing … changing for me and quite a lot; a real lot,’ Bethany said firmly.

‘Oh,’ Antonio said with what sounded real concern. ‘Maybe … maybe I under-estimated the impact on you; I knew too little about you and the ways your life might have gone.’

Bethany hardly felt reassured by her step-father’s words. However, her mother’s attitude seemed markedly different.

‘You look fine, Bella,’ Lia said with clear pride. ‘My beautiful daughter; you look the best lesbian around, you know that.’

‘Lesbian?’ Bethany asked.

Now this was becoming unsettling. She had never envisaged herself as a lesbian; in fact had been careful to avoid giving out that impression, especially when doing sports. However, quickly came memories of frank conversations with her mother, a highly sexual woman she knew, who as Bethany had become an adult, had been eager that her daughter have the best sex life she could. Through various tasks Lia had set her, this had led Bethany to realise she actually was attracted to women. She had effectively come out to her mother before she was even certain in herself. Bethany struggled to reconcile these steps with what she still could recall of Gillian, but quickly that seemed irrelevant: it had been Lia, confident in her own sexuality and keen that her daughter was too, who had helped with all that.

Then there was Zozo. From all that she had discussed with her mother, Bethany had known that Zoë Elias was the kind of woman she had been looking for. Suddenly all the memories of meeting Zoë and hitting it off with her from the start flooded into Bethany’s mind. They had similar tastes, even wore similar clothes and it had not been long before they were not only girlfriends but sharing a flat; sharing a bed. Bethany then felt as if the world was spinning around her. However, pulsing into that sensation was the pleasure of being with Zozo and having the most wonderful sex with her. Somewhere a meagre thought that she was a virgin with no intimate experience with men, let alone women, tried to be heard. It was smothered though, with all the delightful memories of rampant sex with her Zozo.

What precisely had Antonio unleashed? It appeared that his concerns were correct and him adjusting Gillian to be more appealing to his tastes – her more courageous desires? – had ‘rippled’ out and impacted on her daughter too. Bethany found it hard to accept that she had been a lesbian simply too afraid; too conditioned perhaps, to admit that, let alone in the 21st Century context. She battled now to try to push those thoughts back; not to see Zoë as anything more as a kind, but perhaps too persistent friend.

Then Bethany realised that any suspicions she might have had about Zoë had been confirmed by what had happened this evening. Bethany worried if she had been sending out mixed signals to the woman. In some ways she felt sorry for Zoë, perhaps carrying a torch for her and not getting much more than her company and a bump kiss as a reward. Then, however, Bethany felt all that was ridiculous. She and Zozo had been partners in all senses of the word for months now and she gave as good as she got.

Bethany shifted pleasurably as she recalled her lover’s tongue lapping at her pussy lips and her mouth closing on her clit. For a moment there was something startling to recognise she had done the same in return. Yet, again, that surprise was quickly reversed as Bethany felt she had good experience in sexing her partner; her Zozo and that it was the natural thing to do. Why would she baulk in the slightest at giving and receiving such pleasure?

‘Are you okay, Bella, Bellissima?’ Lia asked.

The nicknames were used so much that Bethany wondered if in time her real name would be forgotten. Then again, to Zozo, she would always be ‘Bee’ and that was a name she had come to treasure. The wine had arrived and without asking Lia poured a glass for her daughter as well as her husband.

‘Here she is,’ Lia said suddenly.

Bethany turned to look the way her mother was doing and seeing Zoë approach, knew that the crunch point had arrived. Seeing her girlfriend in the tight black vinyl trousers and that black-and-white abstract print top, Bee lost grip of all that had concerned her. She stood and walked to her girlfriend, embracing her, their leather jackets creaking as they came together. Then they were indulging in tongue-filled kisses as if daring anyone to challenge their relationship.

A little breathless, Bee pulled away and guided Zozo into a chair. As she did, she saw that Lia and Antonio were indulging their own passion. Bee knew from her mother’s frank conversations that for Lia and her step-father, foreplay typically started long before they got anywhere near the bedroom.

‘Hi, Zoë,’ Lia said as she broke from kissing her husband; Antonio echoed her.

‘Hi, there,’ she responded cheerfully.

‘Sorry I’m late, the session ran over, again.’

Bee knew that one of Zozo’s modules she did not take, often had evening seminars.

‘You’re here; we’re together, so that’s all that matters.’

Zoë just smiled her agreement.

‘So what are you guys up to tonight?’ Lia asked.

Bee struggled to remember what had been decided. She was sure there was something about a movie and … Surely there had been something important she was going to do; to say? Bee tried to recall it, but failed. She trusted it would come back sooner or later.

‘I’ve not eaten,’ Zoë said. ‘We said we’d try that noodle bar.’

‘Yes … yes, that’s right,’ Bee responded with far more confidence than she felt.

‘Sounds good. Have fun,’ Lia said.

Bee had no doubt what her mother was implying. However, the thought of having a hot session tonight with Zozo did make her tingle. In the next few minutes, they had all said their farewells and Bee and her girlfriend were walking hand-in-hand to the new noodle bar not that far off.

****

Strangely the flat they were heading to seemed unfamiliar to Bee. She knew her address she was sure and even with the wine her mother had given her, she was not that drunk. Fortunately, Zozo led the way and soon they were up the stairs and going into their place. Their place – that concept itself felt a little odd to Bee. However, once inside and especially seeing various ornaments around the place; the books in the bookcase in the living room, let alone the various shots she and Zozo had printed out of them together, Bee felt reassured that this was the right place; this was her home. Surely that had been the whole point of renting this place, so they could be together alone, without worrying about what anyone else thought.

Bee hung up her leather jacket and got out of her boots. She placed them by Zozo’s and yet again, while some of the pairs seemed familiar, others, ones she quickly realised were her own, appeared oddly new to her. Wondering if she was over-working or was lacking some vitamin, making her feel this way, Bee caught up with Zozo in the kitchen. She was brewing up the tea they liked and opening the tin of cranberry-orange muffins she had made earlier that week and which Bee knew she loved. Somehow, Bee knew that these signalled that they were going to have sex. Were they falling into a rut? Becoming too predictable? If they were, she was not complaining. Something made Bee emphatic about how good sex was with Zozo and them being on a buzz from the ‘space cakes’ and the herbal tea just added to the sensation, prolonged it.

With the preparations all underway, Zozo now turned and gently moved into Bee’s embrace. They kissed and Bee found a real frisson as their breasts pressed against each other’s. This all felt so new; so distinctively exciting. She guessed that if she was still so turned on; felt it so fresh with her girlfriend, then she had nothing to complain about. With the kettle clicking off, Zozo turned to pour the tea. She carried it to the bedroom with Bee following with the muffin tin. There was a large bed in there covered in satiny sheets and a duvet in black with purple swirls across it. Over the bed was a black-and-white framed photo which was possibly the most intimate of selfies – Bee and Zozo’s naked bodies interlocked. She could tell who was who, primarily from the tattooes. A little self-consciously Bee reached to rub the strip of her upper arm where these inked tendrils looped around. She struggled to remember when she had had that done.

Zozo put the tea pot and cups down on the bedside table. Bee did the same with the muffins on her side. Then they stood at the foot of the bed and giggled. Zozo raised her arms and Bee understood what she had to do. She reached over and pulled up the lovely top over Zoë’s head. Then she reached round to unclip her bra and let it fall to the bed. The actions felt very strange even while Bee felt she had done them often before. Zozo stood looking at her and Bee then realised what she was expected to do and in moments she too was having her top and bra removed. Then it was the trousers. She released Zozo from her vinyl and she in turn unbuckled and unzipped her from the leather. Then the panties were being taken down and they stood naked bar the socks which each woman stripped off and snowballed at the other.

Bee giggled along with her girlfriend and then they closed, skin-to-skin; nipple somewhere around another nipple. Bee almost shuddered with this sensation, especially as Zozo gently separated her thighs with her own and pressed the smooth skin of her leg against Bee’s honeypot lips. She was smooth down there and with surprise Bee looked to see she was shaved or waxed or something. Quickly though, she knew that was to make it easier for her girlfriend, her lover, to tongue her to an orgasm. Once more Bee’s head spun trying to reconcile what she knew she had done with what she felt was completely unfamiliar.

‘Come on,’ Zozo said.

She led Bee by the hand to the bathroom and got the shower on. Bee was self-conscious as she followed Zozo under the warm water, both their bodies soon shiny with it and then slick with the shower gel. However, the sensation of being sponged in all those places and returning the favour, flooded Bee’s mind so much with arousal that she could not think about anything else but playing with this sexy woman that close to her. The drying off was almost as much fun as they rubbed each other with big purple towels and Bee saw one of the advantages of having short hair. Then it was back to the bed, both of them naked under the duvet, dishing out cups of tea and hash muffins then sitting up, with the duvet away from their upper bodies. Again there was that almost automatic reaction in Bee’s mind that this was highly unusual, perhaps even wrong. However, the sensation was getting old now and she concentrated instead on what she enjoyed about it.

Soon riding on a cloud of hash and chamomile, Bee was barely conscious of when their love making started. It was sex, but somehow there was that extra element that took it higher. Memories rather than experience seemed to guide her not simply with what she needed to do, but what Zozo liked; what Bee liked her lover to do to her. Soon there were nipples in mouths and the playful stroking of honeypot lips before fingers slipped in. Bee almost felt compelled to go down on her lover; to close her mouth gently around Zozo’s clit, loving the very flavour of this woman; the sensation of her face pressed against her smooth sex. Soon, though, Zozo was guiding her away. She had not come yet, but her throbbing clit suggested she was close and wanted to extend that sensation. Zozo now shifted to lick her girlfriend and Bee quivered almost unable to cope with it, as if was the very first time she had had a tongue lapping at her sex. Soon she was gasping and panting, feeling she was about to crash into a climax.

Then Zozo pulled away and tossing the duvet to the floor, adjusted her position. It took some moments for Bee to understand what was going on. She felt very awkward as, like Zozo, she spread her legs and shifted closer so that they were soon lips-to-lips, gently moving to stroke against the other’s sex. Bee really struggled to cope with the sensation of this. Partly she wanted it to go on forever and partly she could not handle any more. She realised it was not just the physical element but the mental as well. She battled to accept that she was truly here having such sex with a woman. Was this simply a lucid sethy or some kind of beautiful nightmare?

Now Zozo began to sit up though keeping her mound pressed as best as she could against Bee’s. Rather dazed, it was only when her lover tossed over a pillow to support her back that Bee understood what she was meant to do. It was rather clumsy but soon they each had one leg over one of the other’s; they were cat’s cradle of naked women. Zozo kissed Bee and touched her so hard nipples before reaching down the narrow gap. She seemed able to find Bee’s clit with pinpoint accuracy. As the soft fingers touched it Bee jolted and yelped aloud.

‘That good?’ Zozo asked with a chuckle.

Breathing heavily, Bee was unable to respond coherently, but she moved her hand to match what Zozo was doing. It took her longer but then she was catching the excited clit between two fingers. So locked together it did not take much more than a few gentle strokes before they both climaxed, falling against each other, gasping and slick with sweat. Bee had no idea really what was happening, but knew she wanted more of it. Recovering a little the couple restored their bed and well into Saturday worked hard at pleasuring each other again and once again.

Bee awoke naked and with her girlfriend, Zozo, that Saturday, unaware of just how different she was; how different her life had been just the day before. While for a couple of weeks things about how she lived; what she loved and did, seemed new and surprising, soon she was unaware that in the past few years she had not had one very sassy mother and that she had been one very sassy, happy lesbian with the ideal woman for her.

THE END

Contemporary UK Story: Going Up/Going Down

Going Up/Going Down

Suvi glanced at her phone to see how long the meeting had overrun. She guessed she was an hour into overtime if this job; this company, paid overtime. The only benefit she could see would be that, by the time she had collected her stuff from upstairs and walked to the stop, the next bus to arrive would be that bit quieter than one during the initial burst of the rush hour. The lateness, however, seemed to be doing nothing to benefit the speed of the lifts, but eventually one came.

Stepping inside, Suvi pressed for her floor. It was nearly at the top of the building, though not quite, because the “penthouse” offices with views across London, were reserved for the top executives. The genuine board room was up there too, not that the board members came in often and their meetings tended to be held in swanky hotels instead. Suvi guessed it was probably much the same everywhere.

‘Wait! Wait!’

Suvi looked up to see a biker, presumably a courier, sprinting from the stairwell into the lobby where the lifts arrived. Suvi pressed to keep the doors open. 

‘It’s going up,’ Suvi explained.

While she had her work bag with her, she wanted to fetch her coat which was hung up in her corner of the big open-plan office.

‘Sure, that’s what I need,’ the courier replied.

As the courier stepped in, Suvi realised she was a woman. She breathlessly thanked Suvi. She set down a large cardboard box fortunately with a plastic handle to make it easier to manoeuvre and a smaller upright one. The courier then simply stood and watched as finally the lift doors closed.

Immediately Suvi picked up the scent of the woman’s all-in-one leather bike suit. It was a rich, not unpleasant aroma and she noticed that there was something lighter, sweeter, cut in with it. Suvi realised she expected bikers, if they wore anything in terms of deodorant, to select masculine scents rather than this. The woman had long jet-black hair in a plait that stretched down across her leather-clad back. Again Suvi realised she expected them all, whether male or female, to have buzz cuts. Much of the lift interior was mirror so Suvi was able to look with interest at the reflection of the courier’s face. The eyes caught her immediately. They were a deep-set, rich brown and very elliptical. Her cute nose and almost delicate chin were pointed.

The features for some reason seemed distantly familiar and then made Suvi think of the Philippines: a mix of Hispanic and East Asian elements, which she would have to confess, made for a pretty, maybe even beautiful, face. The courier’s small mouth smiled and Suvi realised the woman had been looking at her in return.

‘Do I know you?’ Suvi asked.

The woman now turned to face her directly and gave a little laugh.

‘Yes, don’t you remember, Suvi?’

The fact that the woman used her proper name rather than changing it from its Finnish source to an English rendition like “Susie”, seemed to confirm they had met before. Suvi, however, battled to remember where.

‘The Christmas party …’ the woman prompted.

Suvi struggled to recall that horrendous event. It was still causing ructions in the company.

‘I would say I was trying to forget it, but you know, that is actually very easy.’

The courier looked quizzically at her.

‘You didn’t hear?’ Suvi was not certain how connected this woman was to the company; what she might know or not know about it. ‘Harry Swinton - deputy head of HR - put something in that punch. One of those three-letter drugs they use for spiking. Said he was trying to “spice up” the “dull lot”, well, us I guess. Didn’t seem to do his career much harm, though.’

‘I didn’t drink the punch, I was on my bike,’ the woman explained.

‘Look, here, I’ll show you the email.’

Suvi started looking for it on her phone. As she did though, the lift’s lights flickered and then with a deep whine the lift stopped moving. She held her breath as the lights flicked briefly to red then back to white, though perhaps a little more yellowy in colour than before.

‘Oh God, that is all I need,’ Suvi said.

‘Why? You claustrophobic?’

‘No … but I was running late as it was.’

‘I am sure it won’t take long to fix.’

‘But aren’t you on some sort of schedule? Won’t this mess this up?’ Suvi nodded to the two boxes.

The courier smiled. ‘No, this was a social call.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘Yeah, I was just going up to pick up my girlfriend; head off out.’

‘Oh, I see.’

The woman did not look like one she would have imagined as a lesbian, though she had the sense that any who rode motorbikes would possibly - probably - be one. Saying that, she had seen enough “biker chicks” from movies and TV fawning over or rowing with hairy men. Now Suvi found herself wondering which of her colleagues might be dating this woman. She soon gave up though: it was a big company and the courier had not even pressed one of the buttons so Suvi had no clue which floor she had been heading to.

The moments passed in silence. It seemed that the lift was not going to start up soon. Suvi was glad her phone still had a reasonable amount of charge. She found the email she had been looking for. She was not clear about this courier’s relationship with the company but guessed while she might have been invited to the party, probably as someone’s guest, that might mean she was unlikely to have seen the email that had come from the “fallout” of Mr. Swinton’s actions. Suvi handed the phone across to the courier.

‘Thanks,’ the woman said.

She took off one glove and set it down on the top of the larger box. She studied the screen of the phone before handing it back, repeating her thanks.

‘So all you guys were spiked and it led to …’

‘Well a lot of things. Gulika Mandal said half of that would have happened anyway; people were just using this stuff as an excuse. For most people, though, it was memory loss. I think I got a taxi home, so was alright. Rosanna Byrne ended up in Trafalgar Square and Thorsten Nielsen got taken off the far end of the District Line; fast asleep.

‘That explains why you cannot remember me.’

‘I guess so. Well, I’m Suvi …’

‘Suvi Ferguson, named after your Finnish great-grandmother.’

Suvi nodded and extended a hand.

‘Yes and you are …’

‘I’m Marisol.’

‘Your family is from the Philippines, right?’

‘You remember that?’ Marisol expression perked up.

‘No … it was a guess.’

‘Oh, okay.’

Marisol let go of Suvi’s hand which she realised she had been holding far longer than was needed for a shake.

‘Yeah. Well, was it a good party?’ Suvi asked after long moments of silence.

Marisol have a weak smile. ‘For me, yes. I thought for you too.’

‘Well … I guess I should be pleased with that.’

‘It was me who got you into the taxi.’

‘Really, erm, well, I guess I should say thank you.’

‘I made sure you were safe; got you into bed. Sorry … now this is sounding creepy and I don’t mean to be creepy, the opposite, but maybe … maybe what I’ve done seems creepy. You know when something seems so right it sort of carries you through and then you step back from it and suddenly you have doubts, big doubts?’

Suvi smiled and nodded. The memory of serenading Hennrick with her guitar only for his girlfriend’s head to emerge and tell her to get lost seemed to fit what the woman was saying, pretty well.

‘Sure … been there; done that.’

The two women laughed together.

‘I am sorry that you never got a “thanks” from me for helping me get home and now four; five weeks have passed.’

‘Yes … I don’t know. There was a lot we said and … then well …’

‘I just forgot all about it.’

‘I see that now, but before just now, I didn’t know that.’

‘So, what things did I say?’

‘Look, I don’t think this thing is going to be moving for a while. I know it’s hardly comfortable, but let’s sit down.’

Marisol went down on to the floor almost immediately. Suvi was more hesitant, not wanting to get her work suit dirty. The courier seemed to understand.

‘I’ve got something you can sit on.’

She reached for the larger box and opened it. The aroma of leather came even stronger now and Suvi saw why as Marisol pulled out another combi biker’s suit.

‘It’s brand new. You can sit on that.’

Marisol spread it out on the floor stretching towards her.

‘You don’t want to spoil it.’

‘These things are tough. A bit of dirt off this carpet will be nothing to when it’s on.’

Rather self-consciously, Suvi got down on to the leather and stretched out lining up with its legs.

‘Thank you.’

That sweet, sharp, scent smelt stronger now and Suvi found it made her feel a little heady. She guessed though she could not complain as Marisol seemed to be giving up some gift; maybe something she had tried to deliver, in order to make her feel comfortable. Then she wondered if her headiness was simply because it was the end of the day; the end of the week and she had not eaten anything except a single biscuit since lunchtime.

‘Don’t you get hot in these?’ Suvi asked.

The smooth leather felt lovely beneath her fingers but she was aware of the weight of it; the various tough patches in it that she imagined were for protection.

‘You don’t wear much beneath them.’

Slowly Marisol lowered the zip on the front of hers until it was clear she only had a bra on there. It was a functional one, but was black and sleek in a way that Suvi found she appreciated; could then imagine herself wearing. She tried to look away from Marisol but instead found herself admiring the curve of her breasts.

‘So you don’t remember anything from the Christmas party?’ Marisol now asked.

Suvi shook her head, then glad of something to break her concentration on the woman’s breasts. ‘I think I remember getting ready in a bit of a rush and then people in that place … that bar was it? Or was that last year? Did we go to the same place?’

For a moment Suvi wondered why Marisol had focused on this topic, but she guessed it was actually quite useful to find out what she could not recall witnessing.

‘Do you remember talking with anyone?’

‘I think I talked with Sara and Stuart; Rosie, maybe. I think I even talked with Harry Swinton. Did he tell me to do something? I have a dim sense he did. Oh, he didn’t get me to put the stuff in the punch, did he? No, it must have been in there already or I would remember it better. I imagine it was something about circulating. He does sometimes treat the younger women as if we’re some kind of air hostess.’

‘I saw you talking to him, then you came over to me.’

‘Ah, okay. Right, sorry, Marisol, but that bit is blank.’

‘I think I believe that now.’

‘I didn’t want you thinking I was being rude or anything.’

‘No, no. But … do you still have my number in your phone?’

‘Erm … I don’t think so, but … I have got a lot on here.’

Rather feebly, Suvi started to go through the saved numbers. Many of them had odd names or codes that she could not even remember what they meant. Then the phone chimed and ‘Marisol’ with a smiling face of the woman sat on the floor opposite her appeared. Suvi chuckled.

‘Looks like I still have it.’

She pressed on it and there was a moment of feedback before the two women each killed the call.

‘Okay … this is the tough bit … and I am thinking now I have made certain assumptions and … done certain things that … I don’t know,’ Marisol began hesitantly.

‘Sounds a bit ominous. Did we … did we sleep together?’ Suvi could not imagine doing that but it was the kind of thing she heard went on after Christmas parties.

‘No, no … no, I would never take advantage of anyone that way. You were out of it when we got to your place. You do …,’ Marisol swallowed, ‘you do have a great bod, but I got you in some bed clothes.’

‘Okay, I am grateful for that.’

‘It is the least you should expect; I am not a man after all.’

‘No, I can see … I understand that.’

‘But you don’t remember saying how much you felt I was beautiful; how you would like me to be your “first” with a woman?’

At that, Suvi went bright red with embarrassment. ‘I … erh, well, you are beautiful, I can say that. But … but, I have never set out to be with a woman … you know, sex ,’ Suvi stuttered.

Saying that, though, Suvi felt then that she could imagine kissing this woman and was feeling curious what her body looked like. Was it simply a result of being stuck in here with Marisol? Would she have begun to have similar feelings if it has been Stuart or even Mr. Swinton?

‘Okay. Now … I’m not making this up, but you did say you wished you had the courage to “do it” with a woman like me; you just needed someone who would take your hand and gently lead you.’

‘Oh my God, did I?’

‘Yes. I was slightly cautious as I thought it might be some kind of trick and then you were getting a bit wobbly, but thinking back now, I see you weren’t alone in that. The men were mainly sticking to beer but even some of them had the punch and Jonas fell asleep pretty quickly. However, by then I was fixed on looking after you. This Swinton guy even said I should take you home … oh, shit!’

‘What?’

‘I see it now. He knew he was doping everyone and making them suggestible. I’m betting he was having a lesbian fantasy about you with me. He told you what to say to me; I feel sure of it.’

‘What a bastard! I can see that being one of his tricks.’

Suvi did recall from the year before about Swinton trying to “pair up” various members of staff, whether they were of the same gender or not, to kiss under the mistletoe. She had kissed Sara just to keep him quiet.

The two women fell silent. Suvi ran through a range of emotions, though steadily she found she was most annoyed about how Marisol had been misled.

‘I am sorry if you thought I was coming on to you; that it was genuine.’

Marisol have a flash of a smile from her very cute mouth. ‘I am a grown-up. I know now you are not a clit-tease …’

‘Clit-tease?’ Suvi chuckled.

‘It’s …’

‘I get it,’ Suvi responded with a laugh.

The word “clit” however, seemed to echo deep within her as a kind of reminder that she was not simply missing her dinner, but any chance she might have had of getting some action tonight, even of the one-night stand variety, would be ebbing away.

‘But you have never kissed a woman – that was real?’

‘Yes, I went to a bog-standard school not a posh boarding one.’

‘But, you know, these days a lot of women … explore.’

‘Yeah, I know the celebs do … a lot of them anyway. I did kiss Sara last year but really I did it just to shut down Swinton’s comments.’

‘And how was it?’

‘Nice … I guess and … looking at your soooo cute mouth, I am thinking that maybe now would be a good time to try it out again.’

‘That is my fault,’ Marisol said, avoiding Suvi’s gaze. ‘I … well, I had thought what you said to me at the party was real. Then that you had just got cold feet so I did something; am doing something. The only trouble is I think I am simply doing more of what that bastard Swinton planned.’

‘What is it? It’s this … this stuff I can smell, isn’t it?’

Marisol looked up rather embarrassed. ‘I am so sorry, Suvi. As I said, I should have stopped and thought before going ahead.’

‘What is it?’

‘I got it off the internet. It’s a mix of stuff, to ease you a bit; excite you a bit. I thought it would loosen things between us a bit. I was so excited at the party; thought we could start something good, even if just for you to see. You are beautiful and I could so easily see me and you being together.’

‘So this stuff, it’s on …’

‘It’s on my leathers; on yours too.’

Suvi now looked down at the suit she was sitting on. She brought her fingers to her nose and drew the scent on them in deeply.

‘Mine? I thought you were taking them as a delivery; to your … girlfriend.’

‘Yes, they are meant to be for my girlfriend; the boots too.’

Marisol opened the upright box and pulled out a pair of practical biker boots like her own and tipped out a pair of gloves afterwards.

‘So when you said you were  going up to pick up your girlfriend you meant you were going to pick up me?’

Marisol nodded slowly. ‘This lift has not broken down; I had this arranged. I know guys in the control room. They are stopping it until I call them. This time of the day no-one is going to worry if one of the lifts is off.’

‘Right,’ Suvi said slowly.

Part of her felt she should be angry or even scared. However, Suvi felt she could see the woman’s motives. Maybe if the situation had been reversed, she would have done the same. She remembered how she had rearranged projects so she would be assigned with Will, not just once, but a number of times.

‘Look, I realise that really I have just done effectively what this Swinton guy was trying.’

‘No.’ Suvi held up her hand. ‘He was just doing that for some … second-hand fantasising. This,’ she gestured to the floor, ‘is about you and me and what we want.’

‘But it is no different to last time. You are not in your right mind; this is all being done “under the influence”.’

‘Or maybe … this is about opening the doors of perception.’ Suvi laughed at that for sounding so pretentious; Marisol joined in. ‘It is only Swinton’s thing if this is fake. If it’s real then we get the last laugh.’

Marisol looked rather unconvinced.

‘Anyway what is done is done,’ Suvi said pragmatically. ‘Your magic mixture, whatever it is, is making me …’ she gave out a gasp and then shuddered, ‘so wanting to be kissing you; doing everything that … ah, fuck. God this is coming hard. The more … the more I say it the more it is coming into my mind. I want to suck you, lick, stroke you, I want you to do … I’ve got to get it out. I want you to … do those things to me – lick my pussy; suck my … clit.’

Suvi struggled to complete what she was saying and then it was precisely as she had said. The more she thought about what lesbians did sexually; the more she imagined what they could do, the more those things became embedded in her mind that she wanted; needed, to do them and, above all, with the astoundingly beautiful, sassy, sexy woman sat across from her. Though not knowing whether this would last, for the moment, Suvi felt certain that she was a lesbian and that the woman she wanted to be her girlfriend was in this lift with her. She went up on all fours and crawled over to Marisol.

‘This is not right,’ Marisol protested.

‘But it is. Shut up and kiss me.’

Ultimately Marisol yielded and quickly the two women were lying in each other’s arms, snatching quick kisses and then indulging in long, tongue chasing ones. Eventually, Suvi broke, her hips feeling stiff from lying on the floor. She gazed into Marisol’s eyes feeling lost deep within them. She stroked her cheek and her about-to-be lover reached out to do the same, gently running her fingers over Suvi’s pale, radiant, freckled skin.

Now feeling energised; excited; impatient to be in bed with this woman, Suvi jumped up and started to strip off her jacket, then to unbutton her blouse. Marisol stood up behind her and took the clothes and put them into the larger box. Soon, Suvi’s shoes and trousers were off. She was not certain if her socks and other underwear would suit, but she would go with them for now; envisaging going shopping with Marisol for biker-suitable versions. She turned now deliberately pressing her excited breasts against the hard leather that covered Marisol’s chest then they kissed some more.

Stepping back, Suvi lined up her first leather combi and began to slide herself into it. Marisol helped and soon Suvi found herself encased in black leather, the creak and the aroma of it exciting her. Marisol zipped her in and then helped her get on the boots. Suvi was mirrored on all sides and saw a very different woman to the one who had entered the lift. Marisol gently pulled her snow-blonde hair into a long plait to match her own, tying it off with nothing more exotic than a rubber band.

‘See, your girlfriend has emerged from her chrysalis, a wonderful shiny black butterfly,’ Suvi declared.

Marisol laughed at that. Suvi was not certain whether she was genuinely falling for this woman but for the moment the pleasure she got from feeling she was, was more than enough not to question.

‘Come on, get your friends to get us out of here. I want to be going out; going home with you,’ Suvi insisted.

Marisol complied and the lift began to move.

‘Going down,’ she said.

‘Not quite yet,’ Suvi gave a mischievous grin.

She realised that beneath her new leathers she felt highly aroused. However, her stomach was complaining and she knew she would not be up for her first round of lesbian sex unless she satisfied it first. The next hour saw Suvi given her first motorbike helmet and take a pillion ride that did nothing but stoke up her arousal. They grabbed a takeaway and headed to her small flat. Suvi’s mind was buzzing as she almost skipped up the steps to her place. She and Marisol had kissed while waiting for their food, but these days, Suvi guessed, no-one seemed to pay much attention to two women doing that, even if they were both beautiful, sexy women in tight leathers.

In the flat, Suvi simpered as Marisol got her boots off and unzipped her from the leathers. It was not simply that she was rendered right down to her underwear so quickly, but the sense that she would be putting these clothes on again. The leather might be heavy but there was something about the shiny black carapace that Suvi knew she had come to love. Yes, this was Marisol’s job and she could not see herself becoming a courier, but she was totally sold on motorbikes now and the clothing that went with them. In turn, Suvi removed the boots and combi from the woman she already felt for certain was her girlfriend and would soon be her lover and one day perhaps her wife. Suvi now had no inkling that even just a few hours before those thoughts would have seemed very strange to her, because now they were an integral part of her identity.

Soon the new couple were in bed, feeding each other morsels of takeaway food and sipping on beers. After that, they lay in each other’s arms, grinning at what this day had brought. Then slowly, to reaffirm what she had come to realise she felt for Marisol, Suvi began to kiss her body; took her nipples into her mouth and gently began to rub her thigh between Marisol’s. It proved no difficulty to envisage what lesbians did in bed and going with what felt so right now to Suvi, she did the same to her lover. Marisol’s soft words, small sounds and nudges steered Suvi to growing competence in pleasuring another woman. Suvi realised that as she progressed now with her tongue lapping hungrily at Marisol’s pussy, that her work was making this woman relax and, she trusted too, showing that this was all genuine. As Marisol rose to climax, her hands clasping Suvi’s head, she let out a deep, satisfied moan. Suvi felt a sense of release in her lover that had been a long time coming.

Having recovered, Marisol moved to return the favour taking Suvi to the first of many, many orgasms brought to her by a woman. After the sex, the couple fell into a deep sleep; a weekend of getting to know each other, lying ahead. Suvi woke the next morning lusting after, loving, the woman beside her and that was how it would be from now on.

THE END