Art For Art's Sake

By Limey Lady

At eighteen, a tall skinhead with broad shoulders and a mannish body, Angie has embarked on a voyage of discovery. And, now the voyage has truly begun, the discoveries are coming thick and fast.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Limey Lady
• Release date: Oct 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370124589

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

Art For Art’s Sake

By LimeyLady

Copyright Mark C Woolridge (writing as LimeyLady), 2018

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

Chapter One - Sandra

Chapter Two - Meeting Miss Pearce

Chapter Three - Art lessons

Chapter Four - Dances with Sandra

Chapter Five - Walking home

Chapter Six - Football fun

Chapter Seven - Much more fun!

Author’s Note

Other Books by LimeyLady

Chapter One

As a responsible member of the upper sixth Angie didn’t have to wear a uniform. She had, however, settled on a sort of uniform of her own. Consisting of Doc’s, jeans and a sweatshirt or a T, it wasn’t a million miles away from the way she dressed out of school.

Face it: with a build like hers she wasn’t going to wear anything girly, was she? A little over six feet tall and weighing in at thirteen stone-odd, Angie wasn’t really cut out for dresses and skirts. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on her body but there weren’t many feminine bumps and curves either. Her legs were strong, mannish and definitely not made to be publically exhibited.

For her dresses and skirts were right out.

Going by the book, sixth formers weren’t supposed to wear jeans but a girl could get away with smart ones. Angie ensured that hers were always pristine, never slashed, patched or frayed and not in the least tight-fitting. And she always got away with it.

Today, the most important Friday in living memory, she’d varied her outfit in two ways. Although it was late January and she’d normally be wearing a sweat, she’d gone for a white T. And more significantly, for the first time in years and years, she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Tight white T and no bra . . . whatever had possessed her!

Tight T or not, the feeling of freedom was nothing short of exhilarating. Her body was unshapely and masculine but her breasts were definitely redeeming features. They were large round and, unfettered as they now were, they had a life of their own. She felt like those brave bra-burning sisters of the 60s must have felt: daring, defiant and above all, liberated.

Oh yes, that liberation: the gentle bouncing at even the slightest movement; the sensation when she suddenly turned and her tits kept going a moment before springing back and jiggling up and down.

Better still, the thin fabric of her T-shirt constantly rubbing against her nipples.

Make that rubbing against her rock-hard nipples . . .

Angie’s journey in to school passed uneventfully. There again, she was wearing a jacket which more or less held everything in place. It wasn’t until she’d got to the sixth form centre and ditched the coat that folk started to take notice.

Suzanne and Liz commented first. They were the school’s prominent lesbian pairing and were almost inseparable. Even at quarter past eight in the morning they were holding hands in the cloakroom.

Holding hands and, in Suzanne’s case, gaping open-mouthed.

‘Blimey Ange,’ she said, ‘what’s with you?’

Angie shrugged, inadvertently setting her