Bridget Stone sipped her coffee and smiled inwardly to herself. She looked around the cafe and revelled in the knowledge that none of the other customers could possibly know about the secret she was currently keeping at home, in the cupboard under the stairs. She caught a glimpse of her self satisfied expression in the large mirror on the cafe wall, then she looked at her watch. It was eleven o'clock, she really should be getting home.
She'd just been out on a shopping trip, after all, she needed to ensure that her house guest was fed and watered over the next two days. The opportunity to host her boss for the weekend had presented itself during the previous evening, and she'd seized it with both hands. Now, as she made the short journey from the town centre back to her two bedroomed Victorian terraced house, she mentally rehearsed her plans for amusing herself with her guest.
Bridget was an very attractive woman with naturally wavy blonde hair. She was of medium height and build, and had a well proportioned figure. Her great aunt had died a year ago and had left her a decent amount of money. The money had come straight to her because her mother had died five years earlier, and her father had run off with another woman when Bridget was three years old.
She was determined not to be like her mother, who was always scraping to make ends meet. She'd lived on the edge of poverty for most of her childhood and she was damn sure that she was going to get what she wanted out of life.
She wasn't what you would call an affable, friendly sort of person. She found it difficult to trust people and displayed little empathy for her fellow man. This was not because she was in any way misanthropic, or had a grudge against humanity, it was merely that she felt most emotions less intensely than most other people. She was, nevertheless, a good manipulator of minds and this would serve her well.
The money left to her by her great aunt had been put to good use, she'd used it to buy her house, and had invested most of the rest in a long term savings account. Her one extravagance was clothes, and she had the body and the looks to carry off this indulgence to good effect. Still single at twenty five years of age, she'd been propositioned by more men than she cared to remember. If she didn't trust people in general, she trusted men even less and they held little fascination for her.
This inability to feel much in the way of love for her fellow man was more than compensated for by her ability to feel sexual desire and satisfaction. Her first sexual encounter had taken place on her twenty first birthday. She still lived with her mother at the time and was a typist at the local council offices.
She had persuaded an attractive work colleague to go for a birthday drink with her. Without directly lying to her, she'd misled the colleague by letting her believe that several other girls would also be there. As it turned out, Bridget and her 'friend' Susan drank alone in the pub until Susan wondered out loud what was going on.
"I thought you said that some of the other girls were coming?"
"They said they would if they could make it."
"Well they're not coming now are they? It's almost nine o'clock, I promised my Dad I'd be home for ten thirty."
"Oh come on Sue, you're already twenty one, an adult in the eyes of the law, you can do what you want."
"Not according to my Dad, he says that while I live under his roof, I have to abide by his rules. He thinks I should be married by now with kids on the way. Men! They have it all sorted out don't they, you're either some man's daughter or some other man's husband and you have to like it or lump it."
Bridget felt a warm tingle in her pussy, she'd half suspected that Susan might be amenable to a little female affection, and her last comment had given her reason to believe that she might be right.
She'd known for a long time that she was sexually attracted to women, she'd once found a bondage magazine lying in the street, the pages fluttering in the wind. She'd snatched it up quickly hoping that she hadn't been seen.
That night at home in bed, with a torch underneath the blankets, she'd discovered the delights of masturbation. She went on to obtain 'Bettie Page' porn photos by mail order from one of the small ads in the magazine. She'd given a false name and had planned to tell her mother, should the need arise, that the envelope must have been intended for a previous occupant. They'd been in the property for only six months so it was a plausible lie. In the event, Bridget had scooped up the brown envelope from the doormat before her mother had laid eyes on it.
Bridget greatly enjoyed masturbating to her sexual fantasies. She particularly liked lesbian bondage and dreamed of one day enacting the scenarios in the photos by overpowering a woman, tying her up and spanking her before making her come with a large dildo. It was this fantasy that took shape in her mind as she enticed Susan to come home with her for a 'nightcap.'
"Look, how about coming home with me now, we can have more fun than we'll get in this dump. I've got a bottle of gin and we can listen to my new Elvis Presley record, he's amazing, you'll love 'Blue Suede Shoes'. Come on, my mum's in hospital for a few days and it is my birthday."
"Okay, okay, let's go then... is your mum alright?"
"Yes, just a minor operation, she'll be home tomorrow, but we can have some fun tonight."
It didn't quite go like Bridget's fantasy. She didn't really expect it to, she knew that she wouldn't be able to tie Susan up and rape her with a dildo that she didn't even possess, so she settled for trying to seduce her. They were both still in their office attire of skirts, blouses and heels. With every sip of gin, the shapely Susan became more attractive until Bridget felt an overwhelming urge to fuck her.
She steered the conversation around to how they were both indifferent to men and before long, found herself pushing her, by now tipsy, colleague onto her back on the sofa and putting a hand up her skirt.
Susan was taken by surprise, but managed to grab her assailant's wrist just before Bridget's hand reached her pussy. She didn't know how she'd got herself into this position. One moment Bridget had been telling her how pretty she was, and the next moment she was lying on top of her with her hand travelling up under her skirt and over her stocking tops. Susan was shocked but she was also strangely aroused. In their struggle, Bridget's knuckles brushed her panty gusset, a bolt of erotic lust shot through her vagina and she submitted completely.
Susan opened her legs wider and groaned with guilty pleasure while Bridget pinned her arms above her head with her left forearm, and fucked her with the fingers of her right hand. Susan came spectacularly but as her orgasm subsided, she was gripped by a sense of shame. She avoided eye contact as she made her excuses by saying that it was late, and she had to catch her bus. She put on her coat and quickly made her way to the front door, her pussy still buzzing from the fucking it had just been given.
Bridget followed her and caught up with her just as she opened the front door, she slammed the door closed and spun Susan around.
"Oh no you don't you selfish bitch, put your fingers in me now and make me come or I'll make sure your father and everyone else knows that you like pussy."
"Please Bridget, let me go, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me just now, I'm not a lesbian, I'm not, I didn't really want you to..."
"To what? Fuck you? don't lie, you loved it, every minute of it."
Bridget took hold of the collar of her coat and pulled her back towards an armchair. Susan looked pleadingly at her assailant.
"Let me go please, I'll be late for my bus," cried Susan in a pathetic whine.
With an air of complete control over her victim, Bridget sat down in the armchair, looking for all the world like a practiced predatory lesbian. No one would have guessed that this was her first sexual encounter with a woman.