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Author's preamble:

This is a fictional story containing graphic descriptions of a sexual relationship between two consenting mature women. Any resemblance between my characters and people in real life is purely coincidental.

If material of this nature is illegal where you are viewing it, please surf away now.

If this kind of story is in any way offensive to you, may I respectfully suggest you hit the back button on your browser and select a different category. I have no wish to offend my readers.

Note: I try to write a story so the build-up is slow but gets hotter for those who are patient

To those who have chosen to stay and read this story, I hope you enjoy it...

~oOo~

If I buy a raffle ticket, my number always seems to be one higher or one lower than the winner. If I back a horse it plods around the course, nibbling at the grass on the way. When I went on a blind date as a teenager, I finished up with a spotty, bumbling nerd. If I book a plane ticket, you could guarantee my flight would be cancelled. Get the picture? Lady Luck just does not smile upon me. Little did I know, however, that one day she must have been off duty and a deputy took over, not knowing the routine, and I got a slice of luck which I could scarcely believe.

Let me backtrack a little. I lived and worked in London, temping secretarial work with an agency. It paid enough to keep the wolf from the door. I had a small but reasonably comfortable bed-sitter near the tube station. Then one day my landlord came on strong and demanded extra rent: payment to be given on my knees sucking his dick. Had he been presentable, I might just have considered it but he was a scruffy slob with green-suede teeth, unkempt, unwashed, unshaven and with a beer belly so big, I doubt if he had seen the pathetic little willy he fished out of his flies for years. When I just laughed and turned my back, he gave me 24 hours to get the fuck out of my room.

Have you ever tried to rent a room in London? Even a broom closet costs the earth! I got myself on the books of several letting agents but everything seemed way beyond my purse. A friend put me up for a few days but she made it plain that sleeping on her couch was a very temporary arrangement so I was, in effect, homeless.

After much cogitation I decided to leave the London rat-race behind and I had heard that, in the north of England, accommodation was very much cheaper and easier to find so, on Monday I loaded all my worldly goods into two large cases and struggled onto the Newcastle train, arriving there after twelve hours. Yes, the train broke down out in the middle of nowhere. Naturally the buffet car ran out of stock and the heating was off so I arrived at Newcastle Central station, cold, hungry, thirsty and exhausted.

I had had the forethought to use the internet to pre-book at a B