One Good Turn Deserves Another

Reading notes:

1. This is a Christmas Fantasy. I've written myself into it, but all other characters are figments of my imagination.

2. Despite an initial reluctance on the part of Olwen, all the sex described is consensual and all characters are well over the age of 18.

3. I would like to wish all my Literotica followers, and those I follow on here too, a Very Kinky Christmas and a Dirty, Sex-Full New Year!

18 December, 1999. 6:30 pm. The last Friday before Christmas.

"It's coming on Christmas; they're cutting down trees,

They're putting up reindeer; singing songs of joy and peace..."

Olwen Simpson sang along with Joni Mitchell as she sat at her dressing table, carefully applying her mascara. Make up and cosmetics were a mystery to Olwen. She didn't wear any in her day job as deputy head teacher in her local village school, and since no man, or woman for that matter, had ever shown any interest in Olwen, she saw very little point in 'tarting herself up' as she thought of it. But tonight was different. Tonight was the Staff Christmas Party. A restaurant had been booked, and after their meal, the staff were going on to a new club, to 'dance our way into Christmas', as Norma Lewis, Olwen's best friend on the staff had put it. Olwen wasn't too sure about the dancing bit, but Norma had kept on and eventually Olwen had relented, and agreed to accompany her friend to the club.

Olwen puckered up her lips and applied a thick, even coat of scarlet lipstick. She shuddered. "What do you look like, Olwen?" she thought to herself. "A painted slut, a whore, a tart," she answered herself silently. What on earth had convinced her that applying all this war paint would make her any more attractive? At that moment, Olwen almost decided to ring Norma, make up some excuse, and cry off. She could always do what she did on most other Friday nights: go to bed early with a bottle of red wine, her trusty rabbit vibrator and watch porn on the television in her bedroom.

But no! She was going to see this through, if only to prove to those three young bitches that Olwen Simpson could enjoy herself as well as anybody. She thought back a couple of hours, and her blood boiled again as she recalled what she'd overheard in the staff toilets, just after school had finished for the day.

Olwen was sat on the toilet, in the middle cubicle, her bladder empty. She'd wiped (front to back as her mother had taught her!) and was contemplating whether or not to give her clit some attention, when the door to the toilets opened and a raucous laugh echoed around the tiled room.

"Fucking hell, Sally! What are you like? You mean you've never taken John's cock up your arse? What the fuck does the poor boy do when you're on your monthly?"

The Sally being questioned was the nursery class teacher, and her inquisitor was April, another colleague of Olwen's. April taught Year Three.

"I give him a tit wank," Sally answered defiantly. "I love it when he cums all over my tits."

"Bloody hell, Sal. He must cum a hell of a lot if he covers those puppies. I wish I had a pair of tits like yours!"

This remark came from Jean, who taught Year Five, and whose children would be coming to Olwen's class next year. The three young women were the bane of Olwen's professional life. She considered them all to be unsuitable for teaching, which Olwen saw as a calling, similar to that of a nurse or a priest, rather than an option when all other careers hadn't worked out.

"They are lovely and soft," Olwen heard April say, "and look how quickly her nipples react when I squeeze them!"

Both April and Jean giggled but Sally was obviously offended.

"Fuck off, April, you dirty lezzer!" she said loudly. "Keep your dirty hands to yourself! And you can stop laughing too, Jean. We all know you swing both ways. Well I don't. I just like cock. And John's cock is all I'll ever want. I can't imagine going through life without the pleasures of regular cock!"

April seemed to want to mollify Sally.

"I'm sorry, Sal," she said contritely. "I love your big beautiful tits, even if they are off limits. Delilah's tits are like bee stings compared to yours."

Delilah was April's long term girlfriend, Olwen knew. She also knew that the two lesbians had what April called an 'open relationship', which meant, as far as Olwen could make out, that both women had sex with anybody who was receptive to their way of life. That made April a slut in Olwen's book, and nothing would make her change her mind.

"If you like big tits, April, you should hit on Olwen," Jean said. "Admittedly they sag a bit, but they're fucking huge! I tell you what. Let's set ourselves a challenge. What do you think about getting Olwen pissed tonight? We'll get her tits out and you and I can suckle her at the same time!"

"Ew! Fuck off Jeanie," replied April, making retching noises. "Olwen's a frustrated, dried up old cunt. I wouldn't fuck her if she was the last woman on earth. I'll lay you any money you like that Olwen Simpson's never been kissed, let alone fucked. Who in their right mind would want to fuck that self righteous old bag? You'd have to take that stick out of her arse first anyway! No, Jean. I'm up for most things, but sucking on Olwen's floppy tits is a step too far. I'm just going to get pissed tonight and go home to Delilah and let her fuck me rigid!"

"Olwen's alright really." Sally was speaking now. "She's a good teacher, the children think the world of her, and she really is quite kind. The only thing that annoys me about her is that lisp that she affects whenever she gets excited. Have you noticed that? It's so fucking pretentious."

"Yeah, she does give herself airs and graces," April replied. "Now that's enough talk about Olwen, the frustrated old maid. Come on girls. We've got a couple of hours to get tanked up before we have to be at the restaurant. I feel lucky tonight! I reckon I'm going to get myself some cunt before I sit down to eat my Christmas Party meal."

Olwen heard the door open and the tip-tap of her colleagues' heels as they went down the corridor. She stood up from the toilet and pulled her knickers up. Smoothing down her skirt, she exited the cubicle. Then she remembered that she hadn't flushed, so she went back in and pushed the button.

Olwen looked at her reflection in the mirror as she washed her hands. They say the truth hurts, and much of what Olwen had overheard was certainly true. True, she'd never had a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, come to that. And although she used her rabbit vibrator every day whilst she watched porn, technically Olwen was still a virgin.

She watched all sorts of stuff, including lesbian porn. She often wondered what it would feel like to be fucked, whether by a man's cock or by a strap-on.

Olwen stood up straight. Did her tits sag? She always wore a correct fitting bra, and as she studied them, she came to the conclusion that for a woman closing in on her forty eighth birthday, her 35" DD tits weren't doing too badly. She remembered Jean's suggestion that she and April get them out and suckle them. And much to her surprise, the thought of having her tits suckled made her clit stir and she felt a tingle in her cunt. Olwen winked at herself in the mirror and hurried out of the toilet. If she drove home straight away she'd have time to see to that tingle before she started to get ready for the Staff Christmas Party!

The grandfather clock in the hallway downstairs struck seven. Olwen shook herself out of her daze. She had indeed had time for a lovely slow wank, followed by a shower, and now she was in her best party frock, and she'd finished putting on her make up. The chiming of the clock told her she had thirty minutes before she needed to be at the restaurant. Her taxi was due to pick her up at quarter past. She'd just time for a treat, she thought.

Downstairs in her cosy sitting room, Olwen selected a pipe from the rack that lived on the mantlepiece. She stuffed the bowl with her favourite aromatic tobacco and lit up. Soon she was settled comfortably in her armchair, puffing on her pipe and thinking about what was to come later on in the evening. No one in school knew that Olwen even smoked. She smiled to herself as she imagined what her colleagues reaction would be if they knew that she smoked a pipe.

Whilst in the shower earlier, Olwen had decided that if anyone did, what was the term Jean had used earlier? 'Hit on her', Olwen remembered with a smile. Well if anyone did, Olwen was going to allow it! She was convinced that by tomorrow morning she'd know exactly what it was like to not only be kissed, but to be fucked too!

Olwen finished her pipe and knocked out the dottle into an ashtray. She put the pipe back in the rack and went into the hallway. Putting on her coat, she went out to wait for her taxi.

Outside, the weather had changed. Snow had been forecast, and all week the temperature had barely risen above freezing. But tonight, there was a brisk wind, and even as Olwen wrapped her coat around herself, she saw heavy, black clouds building up in the sky above her.

Suddenly there was a huge clap of thunder. Olwen could have sworn that the whole house behind her shook. She looked up. It wasn't raining, but the clouds looked even more threatening. Another ear-splitting clap of thunder was followed immediately by a dazzling bolt of lightning that seemed to go to earth in next door's garden. In the silence that followed, Olwen heard a blood curdling scream.

It was Mrs. Olsen, Olwen's next door neighbour. It couldn't be anyone else. Mrs. Frigga Olsen had been living next door to Olwen for what seemed like forever. She and her husband Lars-Odin were wonderful neighbours, and when Lars-Odin was lost at sea during one of his fishing trawler trips, Olwen had comforted the old lady and ever since, they had spent a great deal of time in one another's company.

Olwen didn't hesitate. She hurried next door, and went into Mrs. Olsen's house via the back door, which she knew was never locked.

"Frigga? Where are you?" shouted Olwen, and an answering groan came from the hallway.

"Olwen? Is that you, my dear? I've taken a tumble, I'm afraid. I'm out here and I can't seem to get up. Can you come and give me a hand?"

Olwen hurried through the kitchen and saw Frigga lying at the foot of the stairs. She knelt down beside her and took her small, wrinkled hand in her own.

"What happened, Frigga?" she asked. "Were you coming down the stairs?"

"No," answered the old lady, wincing in pain. "I was going up. I needed to pee. When that lightning bolt flashed, it made me jump. I thought I saw a man at the top of the stairs. I slipped and fell."

Olwen looked anxiously up the stairs. There was no-one in sight.

"Come on, you silly billy," she said kindly. "Let's get you up. We'll go into the kitchen and I'll make you a nice cup of sweet tea. You've had a bit of a shock."

Olwen put her arms around Frigga's shoulders and gently eased her into a sitting position. The old woman screamed in agony and passed out.

"Shit!" thought Olwen to herself. "You've done the first aid course, you stupid bitch. Rule number one: assess the patient's injuries before attempting to move them."

Olwen looked at the prone figure beside her. Frigga's left leg was sticking out at an impossible angle, and even as she started to assess what this could mean, a dark stain began to appear on Frigga's long dress. Olwen picked the hem up and looked up Frigga's dress.

She gagged and choked back a mouthful of vomit. Frigga's shin bone was sticking out obscenely from her leg. She'd obviously fractured her lower leg, and in the tumble downstairs, the bone had come through her paper thin skin. This was serious. Frigga required an ambulance and an operation, and she required them now.

Luckily, the telephone was in the hallway, an arm's length away from where Olwen was kneeling. She grabbed the receiver and dialled 999.

The call was answered immediately, and after Olwen had explained the circumstances, the call handler dispatched an ambulance straight away. She cautioned Olwen not to move the patient, but to keep her warm and to stay with her until the ambulance arrived. She also took down details of how to get into the house, telling Olwen not to leave the casualty at any moment.

Olwen assured the operator that she would do as she'd been told, and replaced the receiver. She held Frigga's cold hand and moved closer so as to help keep her warm.

It was then that Olwen heard the tooting of a car horn.

"Oh, shit! That's Katy with my taxi," she thought. "Well, she'll have to wait." (Olwen always used a local female run taxi service.) "I can't leave Frigga now."

The tooting continued for a few minutes, and then Olwen heard a screech of tyres and the sound of a receding taxi.

"You're going to be late for the party, my girl," she thought to herself. Then she remembered that Norma was expecting her. Olwen picked up the telephone again.

"Hi sweetie," Olwen began when Norma picked up. "Look, I'm going to be very late, I'm afraid."

Olwen explained the situation she found herself in. Norma was very sympathetic and promised to give her friend's apologies.

"At least come to the club," she coaxed Olwen. "You can finish the night in style, even if you don't have a meal."

Olwen promised to do her best to meet up with Norma later on, and the two women finished their conversation by wishing each other a Happy Christmas.

There was another phone call to be made, Olwen realised. She was glad she could remember the number, and she dialled it and waited.

"Trudie's Taxis. How may I help you?"

"Hi Trudy. It's Olwen Simpson," Olwen began.

"Oh hi, Ms. Simpson," replied the proprietor of Trudy's Taxis. "Nothing wrong I hope? I know Katy's on her way to you as we speak."

Once more, Olwen explained her situation, and when Trudy had heard her out, the kind young woman tried to tell Olwen that she would explain the situation to her driver the next time she called in."

"Please give Katy my apologies," Olwen replied, "and send her round tomorrow morning please. I insist on paying for the taxi I ordered, and I intended giving Katy a Christmas tip tonight. She can pick it up with the fare tomorrow."

Trudy, who tended to be very long winded once she got into a conversation, launched into a spiel about how kind Olwen was, but thankfully, the sound of an ambulance approaching, together with its flashing blue lights gave Olwen the chance to end the telephone call. She smiled gratefully as two young female paramedics came into the house via the kitchen, just as she had done earlier.

They were both very efficient. The one who introduced herself as Janice took charge, whilst her colleague, Eileen, went back to the ambulance to fetch a stretcher.

In no time at all, Frigga, who had regained consciousness by now,and had been given a powerful injection to dull her pain, was strapped onto the stretcher. She smiled up at Olwen, and said sleepily,

"Thank you, dear Olwen. I'm sorry to have been such a nuisance. Now off you go to wherever it was you were going before I so stupidly fell down the stairs. I'm in good hands now."

Olwen looked at Janice and Eileen.

"We'd prefer you to accompany us to hospital," Janice said apologetically. "It's really busy tonight, what with everyone going out go Christmas parties. We'll book Mrs. Olsen in as soon as we reach the hospital, but we'll be straight back on the road after that. We'll need you to provide our colleagues in A and E with Mrs. Olsen's details."

Olwen smiled ironically as she thought that not 'everyone' was going to a Christmas party. She resigned herself to not even being able to get to the club that evening, and accompanied the two paramedics and Frigga out to the waiting ambulance.

She was amazed to see that the earlier storm had completely cleared. The dark sky was cloudless and it had turned into a beautifully cold, crisp winter's evening. She got into the back of the ambulance. Janice and Eileen secured Frigga's stretcher, and after Olwen and Eileen were seated and belted in Janice turned the ambulance around and began the journey back to the hospital.

When they arrived, it was to a chaotic scene. Ambulances were stacked up, waiting to discharge their various cargoes. Eileen smiled apologetically at Olwen.

"It's always like this on a Friday night," she began, "but at Christmas time, it's ten times worse!"

Janice re-appeared after about half an hour.

"I've got a trolley outside, babe," she told Eileen with a smile. "I've logged Mrs. Olsen in, and with the triage system, she'll be seen as a priority, given her age and the severity of her injury. Come on, let's get her off here and into the warm. We've got another shout straight away once we've got Mrs. Olsen inside."

Olwen was impressed with the speed and efficiency with which Janice and Eileen transferred Frigga into the chaotic Accident and Emergency department. She sat by Frigga's side in a cubicle, and thanked the two young women for all their care and compassion.

"No problem, Olwen," smiled Janice. "Sorry. We have to go. Merry Christmas."

Olwen took Frigga's hand and smiled at her friend.

"You're safe now, Frigga, and in the best place," Olwen reassured the old lady. "They'll soon have you fixed up, and you'll be back home in no time."

'Soon' was a relative concept, Olwen realised. About two hours later, a young, harrassed doctor came into the cubicle. He looked, to Olwen at least, about fourteen years of age, although common sense told her that he'd have to be in his mid twenties at worst.

"Sorry to have kept you," he smiled. "I'm doctor Foster. I've read up on Mrs. Olsen's admission notes. We'll be taking her down to theatre soon. I'm afraid you'll have to give one of my colleagues a much fuller history. Are you a relative?"

Once more, Olwen found herself repeating what had happened earlier, and even when two nurses came and wheeled Frigga away, it gook almost another three hours before Olwen was able to ring Trudy again, and beg her to send a taxi so that Olwen could get home. There was no way on earth that she was going to any club tonight!

"Not tonight, silly. You mean this morning," she thought to herself, as she looked at her wristwatch. To her surprise, she noted that it was already way past midnight.

Katy turned up half an hour later, so when she dropped Olwen off at her front door, she was able to get not only double her fee, but also a crisp twenty pound note as a combination of an apology for earlier, a thank you for returning to pick Olwen up, and a Christmas present all rolled into one. The two women exchanged hopes for a Merry Christmas, and Katy drove off into the night, whilst Olwen wearily let herself into the house, and slowly climbed the stairs to bed.

She was exhausted, but glad that Frigga was safe. As she undressed, she smiled to herself at what might have been.

"So much for your plans to get yourself picked up and fucked," she thought to herself. In that moment, naked and alone, Olwen came to a decision. She wasn't going to get any cock that night, but it didn't mean that she couldn't have a little bit of pleasure. She got her trusty rabbit out of the drawer of the bedside cabinet, and got into bed.

Snuggling down under her duvet, Olwen slid her pleasure stick between her legs and switched it on. Nothing! Olwen sat up in bed and switched the light on again. She examined her rabbit, and came to the conclusion that the batteries were dead. She put the rabbit back in the drawer, switched off the light, and snuggled back down under the duvet.

"That just about sums up tonight, and my life in general," she thought to herself as she drifted off go sleep. Maybe April's assessment of her as a 'frustrated, dried up old cunt' wasn't too far off the mark.