Anjas Game Pt 06

I caught her eye a couple more times, and she was definitely enjoying my attention, giving me a shy smile each time. She went to the back of the counter to make a couple more cappuccinos, and I kept my gaze fixed on the back of her head, so that when she turned around briefly to look at me, she got immediate eye contact -- and met the headlights full-on. She blushed and fumbled with the cups and saucers, before composing herself, smoothing down her uniform and continuing... I decided it might be on.

***

My night with Mel had been great. I really had enjoyed her company - and her body. Not to mention her wondrous lesbian-themed flat. I thought the fantastic sex with her had carried me past my preoccupation with Frida, but I needed to test the theory.

The very next market day, I headed for her stall, ostensibly to buy fruit and veg, but really to find out if seeing her again would still be an unsettling experience, or if I was truly on the road to 'recovery'.

It was a dingy, rainy day as I walked up to the stall, wearing flat shoes, trousers, an unflattering cagoule and a baseball cap, but she spotted me straight away and gave me a smile as she continued serving an old lady. She was her usual self; friendly, efficient, helpful, and smiley, as she helped the old lady find what she wanted, and the old lady was smiling broadly, as everyone seems to when they encounter Frida. She really is lovely.

When it was my turn she made small talk and helped me to choose things, and she was still her usual bubbly self but there were no suggestive comments now, just a friendly efficiency. I missed the suggestive comments.

'How are you, Frida? You OK?'

'Yes fine' she grinned (a little falsely) 'You?'

'Not bad.'

It seemed a perfectly normal casual conversation, but there was a certain awkwardness about it that perhaps only I could detect. The flirtatious familiarity was missing and that made me sad.

I paid for my purchases, said 'see you' as breezily as I could manage, and walked away, but I had a lump in my throat for at least 15 minutes as I continued my shopping. Oh, God. I wasn't over her at all!

My head and heart were all over the place as I walked back to the car, the drizzly rain perfectly matching my sorrowful mood. More than once I almost turned on my heels and went back to plead with her to take me back, but I didn't. By the time I'd driven home I had convinced myself that more gratuitous sex was what I needed. That would cure me of this mad infatuation.

Friday night saw me back at the Fat Giraffe, on the prowl for that punky barmaid. I knew Mel wouldn't be there, because she'd told me she was heading to her studio in Scotland to do some 'Anja-inspired painting.' I must admit, I found it quite gratifying, not to mention a little arousing, to think of her, using images I'd put in her head to create her latest surreally erotic masterpiece.

The Giraffe was much busier than last time I was there, and there were two behind the bar this time. The new girl (well, new to me anyway) was tall and skinny, with long, lank blonde hair, and multiple piercings. She was wearing a white t-shirt dress with a picture of Siouxsie Sioux on the front, and knee-length boots, and she had rather too many tattoos and too much metalwork on display for my liking. She was quite pretty - underneath her 'embellishments' - but definitely not my type.

The other girl was still looking tasty though, and this time she had on a figure-hugging black mini-dress, almost Coco-style but with multiple zips, and some super-uplift bra underneath, to give her a fantastic-looking cleavage. Her makeup was less goth this time; it was a bit more Barbie, with vermillion lipstick and nail polish to match, and it looked great with her short, spiky black hair and very pale skin.

I stood on tiptoes to look over the bar and see her shoes, which were short-heeled black pixie boots with laces - very witchy. I loved the whole look. She saw me looking and she kicked up her heel and tossed her head, then she looked at the other girl and they exchanged giggles. They both suddenly looked very young.

'Nice outfit,' I said. 'Love the boots.'

'Cheers, I'm glad you approve,' and she fluttered her eyelids in an exaggeratedly affected way. 'You look pretty awesome yourself.'

I had gone a touch more rock chick for this evening, with tight denims and plenty of studs, which decorated the straps of my high-heels, my black leather belt, and even the Alice band in my hair. The look was finished off with a skimpy red vest top, which only just covered my midriff, with a sheer bra under it -- guaranteed to show some nipple. It had definitely got the barmaid's attention.

'So how did it go with Magnetic Mel?' she asked.

'Is that what you call her?'

'Yes, well, she never seems to fail to attract someone whenever she comes here' (chuckles at her own joke) '...but you only get one night with Mel.'

'You mean you've...?'

'Oh yes. Just the once. Bloody worth it though... I've never been so sore -- or so satisfied -- after sex. I know a couple of girls who come in here who've been with her. Always just the once though. Nobody ever gets asked back a second time, and NOBODY has her number.'

'I have.' I grinned. 'I'm hoping for an encore.'

'Whaat?... 'kin 'ell, you must be a hell of a lay. Wow.'

'You can find out, if you fancy it.'

She beamed at me, and blushed slightly. 'We haven't even been introduced.'

I held out my hand. 'I'm Anja.'

'Hi Anja, I'm Beth.'

'There. Now were introduced. Do you have a girlfriend, Beth?

'Not at the moment. I have a boyfriend...' she paused so my jaw could drop, then continued '...but he's battery-operated.'

'Phew, that's a relief.'

'Yeah, it is... I'm not keen on the organic type.'

The other barmaid, who I later learned was called Lisa, pointedly broke into our flirtatious chat, saying 'Are you still serving Beth, or are you too busy hooking up?' so she had to break off to serve some sulky-looking girls, but when she came back, she said 'If you are still here at closing time, I'm taking you home with me.' So, of course I stayed.

It was a pleasant couple of hours, trying not to drink too much, watching her, and allowing myself to get horny, as I realised how sexy she was. I'm sure she was deliberately moving around in a slinky way, giving me a show, and my nipples became quite prominent through my thin vest, so I leaned back a little on the stool to show them off to her. Lisa didn't miss them either, and said to Beth, loud enough for me to hear 'You jammy cow'.

Before closing time arrived, I was approached by an attractive black woman, who was very curvy, with huge breasts trying to burst out of her stretchy yellow top, and amazing braided hair. She introduced herself as Yasmine, and parked herself on the stool next to me. She had a silver stud in her nose, long, long nails, painted bright red, and a skirt that was short enough to show a glimpse of stocking top as she sat down. She was very tempting indeed and she offered to buy me a drink, but I demurred, with a certain amount of regret.

'Sorry Yasmine, but I'm spoken for tonight.'

'Just tonight?'

'Yes, I have date with Beth' and I nodded in her direction. Yasmine looked across at Beth, who was grinning cheekily.

'Oh well, maybe another night then' and she gave me a rueful look.

'Yeah, of course.'

Beth was still looking like the cat that got the cream as I watched Yasmine walk away, her ample curves looking gorgeous. I looked back at Beth and raised my eyebrows. She'd better be worth it.

The trouble with this gratuitous no-strings sex is that you become like a kid in a sweet shop. Especially somewhere like the Giraffe, where almost everybody is available, and most are looking for a lesbian partner. Turning Yasmine down was difficult, but then I looked back at Beth. She really was cute.

As the place emptied at closing time, she asked me to phone for a taxi, while she was finishing off her shift and when it arrived, Lisa shooed Beth away saying 'Go on, I'll close up, go go go...' and off we went.

'Eaves Lane please,' she told the driver.

'Really? I said. I only live round the corner from there.' Funny I haven't seen you around. Have you lived there long?

Yeh, a couple of years. Strange. I definitely would've noticed you.'

We arrived at her little bungalow only a few hundred yards from my house, and I paid the driver while she unlocked the door, then I followed her in. As soon as the door closed behind me she pounced on me like a wildcat, kissing me deliriously and pushing me backwards into her living room until I fell over the arm of her sofa. As I lay there mildly shocked, she was already undoing my belt and pulling my jeans and knickers down in one mighty tug. It was like she hadn't had sex in months.

My legs were akimbo and my pussy was completely at her mercy as she knelt between my thighs and clamped her mouth onto my sex. Her tongue was wild; lashing my clit and slurping up the hot liquid I was producing in greater and greater quantities. My bum was still on the arm of the sofa, forcing my pelvis upwards, and her arms were clamped around my thighs, pulling her face hard against my pubic bone, and her tongue was simply electrifying. She went at me relentlessly, and goaded me to a climax very, very quickly, then she sat back on her heels, licking her lips and looking cockily self-satisfied.

'Fuck, I've been wanting to do that ever since that night you got picked up by Mel.'

I was still panting as I came down from my orgasm, and I just gasped 'Wow Beth, I could tell!'

She stood up and walked up to stand by my face as I wriggled myself properly onto the sofa, and she stood there and unzipped the little black dress, letting it fall to the floor and revealing a pair of silky black panties and the push-up bra that gave her such an amazing cleavage. She unceremoniously dispensed with the bra, revealing that she didn't really need it -- her tits were super-perky and she had very rude and erect nipples, surrounded by beautifully crinkly areolae. Mmm, my favourite. I wanted to suck on them, but she was more intent on giving me a pussy show.

Hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her knickers, she slowly pushed them down. I half expected another shaved pussy (it seems to be the fashion nowadays) but no. I was delighted to see she had a covering of tight black curls, neatly trimmed into a flying-v shape. Very stylish. Her pubes were jet black, like her head of hair, and the neat v-shape was in startling contrast to her very pale skin.

It was when she lowered her panties further that my jaw dropped though. She had startlingly large, fleshy inner lips, which protruded almost obscenely, their crinkled folds dangling wetly between her legs as she continued to ease her sodden pants down. They weren't quite as spectacular as Della's had been, but they were a completely unexpected part of her otherwise quite dainty physique.

Like Della, she wasn't the least bit shy about them. In fact, she seemed quite proud of them. I glanced up at her as they were revealed, and she was staring intently down at me, gauging my reaction, and smiling at my obvious surprise.

'Bet you didn't expect those, did you Anja?'

'No, I did not. They are... amazing'

She dropped her knickers fully and stepped out of them. Then she spread her legs wider. She was now completely naked apart from those witchy boots and this was a very provocative pose, worthy of pornography, especially when she took those fleshy lips between her fingers and spread them open for me.

'Anja. Look at me. I want to look into those beautiful eyes while you eat me.'

I did as I was told, gazing up into her eyes as she looked down at me, then I slipped off the sofa onto the floor, and sucked her amazing pudenda into my hungry mouth. I maintained eye-contact with her as I alternated between sucking her lips and rubbing my face against them, causing them to leave wet creamy trails across my cheeks and nose.

'Fuck.... that's so hot' she whispered, as I sucked her flesh between my lips while simultaneously nuzzling her clit, and it wasn't long before she became more active, pushing herself against me and holding my head in her hands.

I brought my hand up and inserted two, then three, fingers into her, then began pumping them in and out, rhythmically, like a well-oiled piston. Faster and faster, as my tongue kept pace, flicking her clit, over and over.

'F... f... f-uuck. Don't stop, don't stop, oh, oh, oh, God - that's - so - friggin good. Oh, jeez, I'm comiiiiiing!! Her legs wobbled and she had to support herself with one knee against the couch cushion as a lovely surge of orgasm juice flooded over my hand. I lapped at it with my tongue and it was deliciously alkaline. Literally creamy.

She had me by handfuls of hair and her aftershocks went on for quite some time, each one making her pelvis jerk, mashing her squishy wet labia into my face. I certainly wasn't complaining. It felt like a beautifully raunchy bit of dominance, which I love. Sometimes.

Eventually, she flopped sideways onto the sofa, panting and mumbling appreciative expletives, and I stayed where I was on the floor, leaning back on the couch cushions and sucking my fingers clean.

After a while, she took me by the hand, pulled me to my feet and led me to the bedroom, where we got properly naked and had more glorious sex, just gorging ourselves on each other's bodies. We did a dreamily sensual tit 69, just adoring our quite similar erect nipples, and followed it with a proper pussy 69, taking turns on top, until we were glistening with sweat and pussy juice, and exhausted by multiple orgasms. Then we lay down side by side and immediately fell into a satisfied, dreamless sleep.

I awoke in the dead of night and looked at Beth, who was lying on her side, knees drawn up into a foetal position and breathing very deeply and evenly. I slipped carefully out of bed, picking up my bra and vest from the floor where they had been discarded, tiptoed into the living room to collect the rest of my clothes, then dressed as quietly as I could before creeping stealthily out of the house to walk home in the deserted darkness. It was almost 4am.

Back in my house, I had a quick shower, washing her traces from my body, then I crawled wearily into bed and cried myself to sleep. I don't know why I cried. Maybe it was just emotional exhaustion, or maybe it was a symptom of my growing inner turmoil. For the first time, I felt that sex had been empty and unfulfilling. I'd indulged in some of my favourite sex acts, and enjoyed multiple orgasms, but I wanted something more. Needed something more.

Once sleep claimed me, my slumber was fitful, and punctuated by dreams. In one of them I was chasing a fleeing woman. I was desperate to catch up but she was always disappearing around a corner, or onto a moving bus, leaving me distraught.

In another, I was swimming. There were people all around me but I didn't know any of them. All the people I knew were walking along the edge of the pool, smiling and waving, but out of reach. I felt lost and woebegone.

But the dream that jolted me awake was this one: I was suckling on a breast, and someone was kissing the top of my head. It was the cathartic experience with Debbie again, but this was not Debbie's breast. It wasn't so big or voluptuous. It was smaller and quite firm. The nipple I was sucking was small and hard against my tongue, and there were tresses of pale blonde, slightly curly hair before my eyes. I pulled my gaze upward... and looked straight into Frida's pretty blue eyes...

***

I lay on my back, trembling and staring at the ceiling. The streaks of tears ran from both my eyes, down across my temples and into my hair. My stomach was a hollow pit and there was a lump that felt like a boiled egg in my throat. I was in a bad way.

Today was a Saturday. The market would be on. I could go and see Frida. Maybe ask her to forgive me. I knew I'd hurt her, but she was still talking to me. Perhaps she'd take me back. Let me make it up to her. But could I settle down into a proper relationship? Give up this whirlwind of casual lesbian sex? Could I end up like Debs and Kelly? Married and very happy? I really wished I could, but I wasn't sure.

I was still thrashing around in a sea of uncertainty, but something deep in my primitive brain had determined that I was going to see Frida. What I would say to her was completely unresolved, but I was going anyway.

Like an automaton, I got up and made myself presentable. The weather looked OK, so I put on a button up sleeveless summer frock in a rich shade of cerise and some almost flat sandals, and tied my hair up in a high ponytail. I didn't put on any make up at all: I wanted to be completely natural for her.

As so many times before, I drove to the multi-story car park and walked across town to the market. I was a bit nervous, but not petrified, and I had no speech planned. I would be happy just to see her, and let whatever tumbled from my mouth just happen, but I was in for a disappointment.

She wasn't there. Instead, it was her brother Arne, who was her business partner but usually stuck to the behind the scenes stuff. He wasn't usually on the stall, though I had seen him there a couple of times before.

'Hi Arne, no Frida today? I'm sure the disappointment was evident on my face, but I forced a smile.

Hi Anja, no she's ill.'

'Ill? Nothing serious, I hope.' (Oh God, how I hoped).

'No, just a cold. I didn't want her sneezing all over the produce though, y'know? How are you? You are looking gorge by the way,' He said, and he gave me one of his winning smiles, which really showed the resemblance to his sister.

'Thank you, I'm fine. Tell her I was asking about her, would you? And get well soon from me.'

'I will tell her, for sure. Catch you later.'

I walked away, clutching my little bag of fruit, with mixed feelings. Sorry not to have seen her, but pleased I had at least conveyed a message to her. At least she'd know I cared about her, and I knew Arne would pass on my message. He seemed good like that.

I decided to go for a coffee at my favourite Italian coffee shop, Boccabella's, not particularly thinking about Kirsty, but, of course, she was there. I like this coffee shop because of its old-fashioned decor and its vibe, which is from a time long before the global coffee chains. I had been going there for years and I now also had another reason to like the place.

I walked up to the counter and was a little miffed not to be served by Kirsty but by another girl. Her badge said 'Marla,' a lovely and unusual name, but she was nowhere near as attractive. I ordered a coffee and sat down at a table near the counter where I could enjoy watching and listening to Kirsty as she flitted back and forth like Speedy Gonzales, just brimming with energy, vitality and life-force, smiling chatting, and laughing in her magical, musical way.

I admired her sheer élan, but she was also captivating physically too. She was about my height, just a little above average, and very shapely. Luckily, the uniform at Boccabellas is quite flattering -- a nicely tailored mocha-coloured dress - and it showed off her figure very well indeed. Her breasts were quite small; just enough to put a subtle swell in her uniform, and her calves and ankles were slender but shapely. I loved the colour of her hair, which was a rich shade of auburn. More brown than red, but only just, and she had a slight hint of freckles on her cheeks, which was quite lovely.

Besides looking great standing still, she had a mesmerisingly bouncy yet elegant way of moving; she seemed to be poised on the balls of her feet all the time. Athletic and graceful, she almost danced through the cafe, even while carrying trays of drinks and food. I loved watching her.