It was late on a Friday night, and I was sitting in my room in college, trying to get to grips with my latest creative writing assignment. We had to write a narrative using a regional dialect, either from within the UK or (in deference to the many foreign students who hadn’t been further out of London than the first-year lit trip to Stratford-upon-Avon) another English-speaking nation.According to my friend Sally, who’d done the option last year, this tended to lead to a lot of bad attempts at Australian dialect based on the students’ daily dose of “Neighbours” or “Home and Away”, which are hardly authentic in my view. I wasn’t particularly enjoying it, since this sort of writing usually comes across as terribly self-conscious and artificial, and I wasn’t finding it at all easy (which I suppose made it a good subject for an assignment – no point in making it too much of a doddle). I was trying to do a Geordie piece, based around a Saturday night in the Bigg Market area in Newcastle. Lots of scope for some interesting dialect there.But I was determined to get it done. I got undressed, so I was just wearing my long t-shirt and some panties underneath, which meant if I got tempted to go out I’d be put off by the need to get dressed again. Clever, eh? So I stuck at it all evening, and was starting to make some real progress, when there was a knock on the door. I looked at the clock. It was after half-past ten.“Annie? Annie? Are you there? It’s Louise.”No Louise, I’m not coming down to the bar with you. It’s almost closing time and I told you I had work to do tonight.Thump, thump, rattle, rattle (but the door’s on the latch precisely to keep people out, so she can’t just barge in like she usually does).“Annie? Annie? You haven’t gone out, have you?”If I keep quiet will she go away? Thump, Ataşehir Escort thump again, a bit harder this time.“Annie, please, I know you’re there. I promise I won’t keep you long. I just need to ask you something.”Hey ho, what are friends for after all. I decided I’d better see what she wanted.“Coming!” I shouted, and unlatched the door. And there she was, my friend Louise from down the corridor. She was wearing a short skirt, a baggy t-shirt, and had obviously come from the bar. All right for some.“Hello, Annie. Can I come in?”How about trying, “Sorry I’ve disturbed you, I know it’s late”?I sighed. “Ok, Lou, come in. But I’m a bit busy.”“Oh, hell, Annie, I’m sorry, but it’s all such a pain.”She kicked off her shoes and plonked herself down in my armchair, flopping her right leg over the arm.“Make yourself at home, Lou,” I said. I don’t think she spotted the sarcasm.This did rather give me a clear view up her shortish skirt. I could see she had on a pretty brief pair of scarlet panties. She does have a great pair of legs, does Louise, lovely smooth thighs that just ache to be kissed. Behave yourself, Annie. Lou’s not that way inclined.She looked around my room, as if she was casing the joint. “Got any booze, Annie?” she said.“Nothing you’d fancy, Lou,” I said. Dear old Louise, she’s a bit of a Bacardi Breezer girl, which I wouldn’t give house room to. Give me a nice glass of wine any day. Trouble was, I knew there were a couple of bottles of rather nice Chilean red under the table, left over from a party the other weekend.“Don’t mind,” she said, “Any old port in a storm?”“Sorry, I’ve not got any port,” I said, and she looked at me in a puzzled way. I really don’t think she got the joke. But I couldn’t help glancing at the stuff under the Ataşehir Escort Bayan table, wondering if it was on view, and her eyes followed mine.“Vino!” she said “I spy vino! That’ll do, Annie, yes please.”I suppose she’d already had enough alcohol, but I decided I’d better listen to her latest bad-luck story before bundling her off to bed to sleep it off. So I opened a bottle, got out one of my smaller glasses, and poured her one (plus one for myself: I’d probably need it).“Cheers,” said Louise, and took a good swig. Bit of a waste of my good Cabernet Sauvignon, but there you go. She swung her leg back and forth, making her skirt ride up even further.Those are very nice little panties, though. Naughty Annie, have a drink instead.I won’t bore you with the details, but it seemed that her latest boy-friend, Sharouz (I think I got that right; I’ve an idea it’s Iranian), had been spotted snogging some guy from his Spanish course in the bar that night. Obviously, this had got Louise more than a little bit upset, and while her friends had stopped her from confronting him, she’d stormed off in that lofty vehicle, high dudgeon (thanks to Flann O’Brien for that one), and come round to bother me.Now, I suppose I should admit right now that I probably shouldn’t have done what I did next, but the sight of Louise’s thighs and panties had got me a bit turned on. I really wouldn’t normally take advantage of someone when they’ve had a bit to drink, but it all worked out okay in the end, so I’ll not go there. Sometimes moral mazes are best kept on Radio Four.“Hey, Lou, better you found out now,” I said. “Even if he is bi, the rules are still the same – one guy or gal at a time.”“Unless you’re having a threesome,” said Louise.This was a good sign; she Escort Ataşehir was starting to get her sense of humour back.“That’s blokes for you,” I said. “Here, have another drink.”And I got up with the bottle and went over to top her up. As I did so, I put my hand on her bare knee and gave it a friendly squeeze, in a comforting sort of way. Yeah, Annie, you’re fooling no-one.She smiled at me. As if by accident (whoops!), my hand slid higher up her thigh, and I gave it a little rub.“You’ll get over it,” I said. “Plenty more where he came from.”“I’m fed up with men,” she moped. “You’ve got the right idea, Annie.”“Oh, I like men,” I said, “I just like women too.”Oh dear, my hand was still on her thigh.“I think I could like women too, Annie, if I just had the right one.”She put her hand on my arm, as if to stop me pulling my hand away. She pushed it further up her inner thigh. OK, Louise, you took the initiative there. I gently rubbed the sensitive skin.“Are you sure about this, Lou? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”“Oh yes, Annie, it’s not just the drink, honest. I don’t mind at all. I really want you to.”“I really want you too, Louise, you’re really lovely, and I’d have done this before if I’d thought you were interested.”“I’m glad you’re doing it now, Annie.”“Just one thing, Lou, if you change your mind, I promise I’ll stop.”“I don’t think I will.”“Just stay where you are then,” I smiled.I stood behind her in the chair, and began to massage her shoulders. She was a bit tense at first, probably because she hadn’t meant any of this to happen, and was still trying to come to terms with it. I started by rubbing my hands over her shoulders on top of her shirt, but when the time seemed right I edged them under the material and got to work on her bare skin. She sighed.“Mmm, that’s nice, Annie, I’m feeling more relaxed already.”I let my hands descend further inside her neckline, still rubbing, down towards the top of her large breasts; luckily her top wasn’t too tight, so I wasn’t too restricted. I ran my hands over the outside of her bra; I could feel her nipples starting to get hard.