Heather's Busy Week Pt. 01

By Limey Lady

Deliberately avoiding lovey-dovey relationships, Heather’s spell at university has been enjoyable indeed. Of course it helps that her looks and to-die-for body attract lusty admiration from nearly everyone she ever meets.

Now, late April, she is into the final term of her three year course. She is about to be awarded a coveted “starred first” and believes she is highly experienced in every bedroom game ever invented; highly experienced and almost (but not quite) sated. If it wasn’t for her overactive libido, she might even consider having a couple of months of celibacy, to further her final revision.

Unfortunately, as well as being blessed with a huge libido, Heather is also blessed with the ability to get into pickles and scrapes. In fact she can be a bit of a Jonah. So far she’s usually managed to keep bad luck out of her undergraduate carrying ons. But she’s not to know what lies in wait for her over the next seven days.

During the busiest week of her life, Heather finds herself confronting drug dealers and undergoing police interrogation. She also finds time to take seven different lovers, all of them more than just once, some of them on multiple occasions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Limey Lady
• Release date: Jul 6, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311693730

Limey Lady

Here's a confession for you: I'm not sure if "Limey Lady" is a pseudonym or my alter ego. Back in 2016, when she came into being, she was definitely a nom de plume. Now, however, I am not so sure.As background, I have always written stories but, up to 2009, writing took a backseat, way behind the demands of my family and career. Then a life-changing medical condition . . . well, it changed everything for and about me. Suddenly I had/have time to spare. Suddenly I was/am churning out tale after tale.I was born in York but brought up in West Yorkshire, in part of the Aire Valley often described as "Bronte Country". I must say, though, that although most of my stories are set locally, they have little in common with the fine works of Charlotte, Emily and Anne. So far my output can be divided into two: long stories featuring ne'er-do-wells, guns and some violence . . . and shorter stories featuring "liberated" women who rarely do what they're supposed to do.Limey Lady was created to be the author of the short stuff. But the longer novels all include feisty, uncooperative females - much like her characters - so I'm going to put her name to both as I publish on Smashwords.Watch this space . . .

Book preview

Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 01

By LimeyLady

Copyright M C Woolridge (writing as LimeyLady), 2016

Distributed by Smashwords

All characters and events in this publication,

other than those clearly in the public domain,

are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons,

living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Prologue - Marcia’s Party

Chapter One - Carrie’s twenty-first

Chapter Two - Heather dobs in a dealer

Author’s Note

Other books by LimeyLady

PROLOGUE

(Friday, 18th February 2000)

Heather had been looking forward to Marcia’s party for weeks. According to all predictions, it was going to be wild. Legend had it that Marcia’s parties were always wild. The stories told by past attendees could be positively toe-curling. Apparently her shindigs set off as raunchy and steadily progressed to debauched. Like every single time. This one was guaranteed to be no exception. As usual, she was throwing it exclusively for students and it was subject to just one rule:

No men allowed!

No men was more of an attraction than a problem for Heather. She was at that exhilarating stage of life: nineteen years old and free to play the field. And good grief, wasn’t she playing it well! She was here tonight hoping for at least one gratuitous sexual encounter. No, she was here expecting at least one gratuitous sexual encounter. Girls only? So what? Who needed a man for sex anyway? Not her. Her eyes had long ago opened wide. She’d come to university thinking that, fresh from five years of single-sex schooling, she knew it all. In fact she'd come thinking it might possibly be time to give blokes a bit of a go.

Silly idea, she’d soon concluded. Silly me.

The size and depth of the university's lesbian community still astounded her. After her first few days she’d realized that her schoolmates had been mere girls, experimenting in the absence of boys. Mere slips of girls; and ones very tentatively experimenting, at that. Suddenly, in this exciting new setting, she was surrounded by grown women with a vast range of experiences, tastes and preferences. Realizing exactly where she’d happy-landed had given her a massive thrill. Experiences, tastes and preferences needed to be fully explored, she’d decided.

Sod blokes! Blokes could wait . . . perhaps forever.

Marcia was a final year student with a large house. She had had housemates for a while but they'd dropped out, leaving her to pay the rent. Throwing what she called a few big bashes was her way of getting value for money. And if it worked for her it definitely worked for others: the place was rammed already, standing room only.

Out of habit, Heather attended the party alone. So too did a smattering of other guests, but most were paired-off. That was the drawback with clubs and societies, she reckoned. They fostered relationships, and relationships tended to discourage gratuitous sexual encounters. Not that every relationship was stuffy and hidebound . . .

Perhaps I can fix up a nice, no-strings tumble with one of the more adventurous, liberated couples. That would be fun, wouldn’t it?

Heather smiled to herself as she went into the kitchen for more wine. Her schoolmates at The Manor had been almost exclusively well-to-do, most of them with well-pampered good looks. The women at this party came in all colours, shapes and sizes. A lot of them didn't particularly care about appearances. And rightly so, of course. Being textbook pretty didn't guarantee that a girl was perfect in bed, did it? Just as having a shaven head and hairy armpits didn't mean a girl wasn’t brilliant at tribbing.

Sipping her drink Heather looked around, recognizing a few faces from previous encounters, exchanging nods and grins. Talking about shaven heads and hairy armpits, Angie was there, seemingly unaccompanied. Heather's heart had been in her mouth when the fierce-looking dyke approached her, back in her very first term. She didn’t scare so easily and hadn't been physically intimidated, but she had wondered exactly what Angie wanted to do to her. The possibilities had seemed endless. Endless and, if not downright scary, just ever-so slightly unnerving. Somehow Heather had kept up her half of the conversation, politely saying Oh, yes please when the subject of sex came up.

She chuckled to herself. Oh, yes please! In a cut-glass, Manor accent! How frightfully posh of me!

Thank God she’d taken the opportunity. Angie hadn't been really fierce between the sheets. Her tribbing was forceful rather than violent. She was also prepared to lie back and take a big dose of her own medicine. And her huge appetite almost matched Heather’s; they were both happy to keep clashing bodies for hours on end. As an added bonus, the girl sixty-nined even better than she tribbed.

Hmmm, it’s been a while, hasn't it? I'll keep an eye on Angie Baby . . .

‘Hiya.'

Heather was surprised by the voice behind her. She turned and immediately liked what she saw. The speaker was around her own age and nearly as tall as she was. She had absolutely gorgeous strawberry blonde hair that fell onto her shoulders, framing a face she’d stolen from an angel. No, she must have stolen it from a goddess, and one of the top-ranking goddesses at that. Dressed in jeans and T-shirt, like practically everyone else, she looked better than just good. Everything about her was yummy. She radiated health and sexuality.

‘I'm Rita,' the girl went on.

‘I'm Heather or Hev. You can take your pick.'

‘Pleased to meet you, Hev.'

Rita was holding out her hand, smiling. Heather smiled back as she shook it, noting Rita held on a lot longer than necessary. That slightest bit of bodily contact was pleasant. Muscles were involuntarily twitching in appreciation; very