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Helen 2

Blonde

It was three weeks since Helen’s awakening – that’s what she called it to her self, rather solemnly. She just thought it was some sort of watershed; but if this were so, why had she not repeated the experience? Well, there was the fact that she had had a long miserable virus infection two days after her “good night”. And after that: well, she had felt a bit “off” – just recovery, she supposed. It was natural to feel a bit depressed after flu. This morning, however, she woke up feeling her old cheerful self, happy and ready for anything. And she was feeling horny. It was Saturday. Should she go back to that club and see if she could hook up with her two girlfriends? The idea got her hot, and she dealt with that in her usual way, remembering vividly what had happened that night. There was another reason why she had felt down: her parents were at it again; hardly a day went by lately without a long, loud argument. She would be glad to be out of it in the evening. One thing she could say about them: they let her live her own life. If she wanted to stay out, they accepted that she had to grow up. Anyway, she seemed to be growing up a lot lately. Predictably, that evening she went back to the club. Despite her age, Helen didn’t like crowded places. So, when she found the club absolutely packed , she thought of going home. But she had already paid, so she decided to see how it went. She got herself a drink and went searching for güvenilir bahis Abbie and Joan. She had promised to ring them, and felt a bit guilty, especially as she had neglected to give them her number. They were nowhere to be seen. Helen felt a bit flat and very disappointed. So much for the night of fun she had been planning. On the other hand, here was a place full of luscious women; why not see what developed? She decided to get another drink and see if anyone tried to chat her up. She wasn’t very good at this kind of thing, and the place was so packed; she ended up sitting at a table next to two young girls who were only interested in each other. The drink didn’t last long, and rather than go back to the bar and get shoved about trying to order, she felt it was best to give it up. Helen left the club around 9.30, feeling quite pissed off – and a bit lonely, too, for some reason. “Hi,” said a voice behind her. Helen looked round and saw a woman about forty propping up the wall outside the club, just under the sign with its single word title, “She.” “Hi,” replied Helen, “do I know you?” “I saw you chatting to Abbie and Joan a few weeks ago,” the woman replied. Helen studied her in the light of the street lamp; she was very slim, with a pretty face and (presumably) dyed blond hair. No make-up, Helen noticed. ‘I hope I look that good without “slap” when I’m her age,’ she thought. “Are they friends of yours?” was what güvenilir bahis siteleri she said. “Not really, but they’re great fun, don’t you think so?” When she said this, she looked straight into Helen’s eyes, somewhat mockingly, she thought. Helen could feel herself colouring a bit. The woman obviously knew what they’d been up to. Had Abbie and Joan told her what they’d done? Did people do that? She felt so naïve, and knew it wasn’t just a feeling. “What’s your name ?” she asked, changing the subject. “Sandra,” she said, still with that half-mocking lilt to her voice. “I’m Helen.” “I know,” Sandra replied, again with that slightly amused sound to her voice. She then asked her if she fancied going for a walk. Helen agreed, but she immediately went into a bit of a sulk. She had a tendency to do this from time to time, partly a result of her mild attacks of paranoia and low self-esteem; the good news was that she soon came out of it, especially if the other person was funny and could make her laugh. Fortunately, Sandra had that quality, and soon had her chortling away like she was totally pissed (which she wasn’t). Suddenly Sandra, with her head turned away, said, “ Do you fancy coming back to my apartment? I live right over there.” She waved her hand vaguely towards some purpose-built high-rise luxury flats. Helen’s old habit clicked in as she gave her usual knee-jerk reply, “Sure.” In no time at all, they iddaa siteleri were inside the block and heading for the lift. Helen experienced a sudden feeling of unreality, and not a little fear. If this woman knew (as she probably did) all about her escapades that night, she would very likely be expecting Helen to sleep with her. ‘Do I want to do this?’ she asked herself. Firstly, the woman was much older than her, but on the other hand, so were Joan and Abbie. Secondly… there was no secondly, unless it was to ask herself, ‘Do I fancy her?’ The answer wasn’t long in coming. ‘Anyway, I’m well over the age of consent, so I’ll do what the hell I like.’ Deep down, she felt she was on some odyssey, and she was excited at the thought of where it might lead. Once inside the apartment, Helen didn’t know what to do. To think that just weeks ago she had stripped in front of two women she had just met, and now she felt shy in front of one. ‘Why is that?’ she wondered. Sandra asked her if she wanted a drink. She shot back with the usual, “Sure.” They both sat there for a while making small talk. Then suddenly Sandra said, “Would you like to see me naked?” Helen swallowed hard. “Yes.” she replied. Sandra stood up and slowly undressed; slowly, but not teasingly. She stood there proudly nude. She had a slim figure and a belly as flat as Helen’s, but what Helen couldn’t keep her eyes off was the long, deep scar that ran around her body, from her left breast to just below her right hip. It wasn’t that she (Sandra) appeared to be ashamed of it; far from it: she was supremely confident, happy in her skin as they say. It was the effect it had on Helen which was remarkable.

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