Mamma Mia!

By Limey Lady

Heather's sex life has always been chaotic and thoroughly enjoyable. Now in her mid-thirties, she believes she's seen it all and that nothing can take her by surprise. But suddenly she gets an out-of-the-blue approach from a significantly older woman. And this is not just any "older woman"; she happens to be Hev's best girlfriend's mother.

Problem is, it's impossible to say no to Mamma . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: Limey Lady
• Release date: Oct 28, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463826089

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

Mamma Mia!

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 - Going to the pub

Chapter Two - Table talk

Chapter Three - Sexy Saturday

Chapter Four - Super Sunday

Chapter Five - Playing with scarves

Chapter Six - Agreeing another date

Chapter Seven - Back to work on Monday

Chapter Eight - Mamma

Chapter Nine - Do not disturb

Chapter Ten - Who needs sleep anyway?

Author’s Note

Other Books by LimeyLady

Chapter One

Dave and I walked into the Busfeild Arms ten minutes late. That is to say we had been supposed to be there at high noon and we went through the front door just after ten past.

To me, the late Heather Hunter, the timing meant nix. Dave wasn’t saying anything but, as Miss Punctuality, she was probably seething.

And tee-hee to that!

Why should we feel guilty about being a tad tardy? Only a couple of hours earlier we had planned to not turn up at all. But we had promised, hadn’t we? And we both always kept our promises.

Dave was, coincidentally, officially known as Davina. But she hates that name and insists that her friends and lovers use the shorter, masculine version.

Not that she’s masculine.

Well, maybe she is on first sight but trust me, in bed she’s all girl.

So am I, by the way. Nowadays I’m thirty-something and still well on the lezzie side of bi. I’m also still very much footloose and fancy-free by inclination. All this new-fangled No Label Dating isn’t so new to me; I’ve been No Label Dating for years. Blushing as I admit it, I have a string of ex-lovers as long as your arm, a handful male, most of them very much not.

Pause for reassessment.

Okay, let’s tell it as it is. Although I’m often described as being an alpha female, I reckon that I can share as even-handedly as anyone. Or rather I can unless I get totally carried away. When I get totally carried away I often forget everything about even-handedness.

Trouble is; I very regularly get carried away.

Make that nearly always.

It has something to do with perfectly shaped female bodies and willing smiles. No, skip the perfect bit; I love female bodies whatever their shape; it’s those willing smiles that get me.

Like every time without fail, world without end.

One of these days I’ll probably shag someone to death and get carried away for good. Sentenced to life imprisonment for first degree sexual murder, fed only bread and water, sharing a cell with three nubile young lifers with long blonde hair and . . . and . . .

And what an intriguing image is that!

Not that I ever would, of course. Kill anyone, I mean; I only ever want girls to die the little death; actually pegging out on the job is so not on my agenda.

Moving swiftly on . . .

When Dave and I went into the pub we were, to say the least, noticed. On one level I assumed it was because we were relatively young, perky and attractive. In reality I knew it was because we had been in there the day before.

That is to say the day before I’d walked in hand-in-hand with Lizzie, and Dave had walked in with Kat. And an hour or two later we’d walked out hand-in-hand in different combinations.

If there has ever been a more blatant wife swap I’d like to know about it.

As an aside, decades earlier, Morton was renowned as the wife-swapping centre of all Yorkshire. Formerly a farming village, new housing had sprung up and the place had become a bit of a yuppie paradise. And the yuppies brought with them wife-swapping as a way to spice up otherwise boring Friday nights.

The choice was Julia’s Chippie