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Yesterdays Girl


Copyright (C) 1998 by Amaranthus. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution
via electronic medium (that is, the Internet or electronic BBS) is
permitted providing the story text is not modified and this copyright is
included but no other form of publication is permitted. This document
contains material of an ADULT nature. *READ IT AT YOUR OWN RISK*. Having
been warned that this material can be construed as offensive the onus is on
you to quit reading any further. This story is for ENTERTAINMENT purposes
only and does not necessarily represent the views of the author or the
electronic source from where this material was obtained. All characters
are fictional and any resemblance to any real person is purely

'Yesterday's Girl' by Amaranthus

Off the north-east coast of Kent, England, lies the Isle of Sheppey. A
number of dirt roads form a lattice pattern on the harsh lowland to the
north of the island where an assortment of one and two storey houses litter
the sides of these potholed roads.

In late November the wind howls through the night sucking up the dead
leaves from between the shrubbery and the low, ornate brick walls used as
dividing boundaries, blasting them into the cold chill of the night.

AnnaLee Bradley let the curtain fall back in place shutting out the
bitter sights and rasping scream of the maelstrom outside.

Although only twenty years old her young, oval face carried a certain
heaviness of character as though she held rein on her emotions. This was
more than compensated by laughter lines and a dimpled chin but highlighted
again by sad, dark brown eyes. Eyes that held you encompassed with
reflected imagery. A small uptuned nose, a generous mouth with full lips
and long, luxuriant, wavy brown hair born on a five foot seven inch
curvaceous frame.

A beauty untainted? No. Life had been cruel to this young woman.

Her father had left her mother before she was born and at eighteen she
had been raped and sexually abused by the young priest who had taken her
virginity as payment for administering the last rites to her dying mother.

AnnaLee had managed to survive on her mother's life insurance that
provided sufficient money to pay the household bills. She had not left the
house since the night of her terrifying ordeal and her days were spent
cleaning, cooking and writing. She was a prolific writer, self taught and
capable of superb prose. She was capable of producing over two thousand
words in a day.

No one knew this except AnnaLee. The novels she wrote were never
published, because they were never sent to a publisher. They remained, for
now, locked within the large writing bureau in the front room.

Her literary genre encompassed erotica, horror and biblical fact.

A part of her mind had blocked out that horrendous night and so, to
those who visited the house, she appeared to be a relatively happy young woman.

There were quite a few 'social do gooders' within the towns of Minster
and Sheerness but none could release the pain that lay within her.


Corrin LeFay lived opposite AnnaLee in the same road. She had watched
the priest arrive that night. A little while later she'd heard a scream.
She'd listened to hours of silence. She'd seen him come out of the house
and take something from the car then return inside. Over the next two or
three hours nothing had occurred, then she saw him leaving hurriedly,
peering furtively up and down the road. He got into his car and drove off
in the direction of the church. She had done nothing, said nothing. She
too lived alone.

Two women living alone on the same broken and rutted dirt road.

Corrin was twenty-six years old when her husband had been crushed
beneath the wheels of a juggernaut that was travelling too fast and on the
wrong side of the road. He'd been walking home from the steel foundary in
Sheerness where he'd worked as a crane driver. His head had been bent down
into a gale force wind.

At thirty-one she'd learned to live with loneliness. Her oval face was
unlined and unblemished. She was a typical country woman growing up in a
country town that would have been shocked to discover a woman could change
inwardly so much in such a short time.

The ten-inch chrome dildo, bought 'just for a laugh' at an 'Anne
Summers' evening party, now lay beneath her pillow and had become her
nightly companion. She saw no shame in using its vibrating coolness to
satisfy her sexual needs. Life had changed her. The thought of making
love to another man, after being with her husband, did not arouse her. She
knew her ultimate sexual satisfaction was to make love to another woman.
Not just any woman but one who was very much like her. Her mirror image.
She lived opposite and she occupied Corrin's sexual fantasies as the
vibrator hummed each night between her bronzed, open legs. Her full figure
tensing as the waves of sexual release washed over her.

After her 'therapy session' she slept so much easier.


During one of these sessions she became conscious of where her fantasy
was leading. It gave her an idea as to how she could achieve three things
with almost a single action.

Over the next few weeks she prepared for her visit to AnnaLee.


The insistent rapping on her front door startled AnnaLee as she sat
writing beside her mother's bureau. She stood up and walked through into
the hallway. Passing the hall mirror she managed to primp her hair, making
sure that she looked presentable.

She opened the front door but there was no one there. On the porch lay
a pie dish. She bent down and picked it up, sniffing closely at the
crusty, golden brown, sugary topping.

"Mmmm, apple pie," she said.

Looking around she could see no one.

'Strange,' she thought.

She took the pie indoors and cut a slice. It tasted delicious. She ate
the remaining pie over the next few days. She washed the pie dish and left
it on the porch. The next day it had gone but in its place was a small
brown envelope.

'Don't tell me,' she thought, 'they've left the bill.'

She took the envelope indoors and sat down beside the bureau where she
slit open the end with her index finger. Inside was a single sheet of
notepaper and on it was neatly handwritten, 'A robin redbreast in a cage,
puts all Heaven in a rage.'

AnnaLee read and re-read this passage over and over in her mind and
wondered who knew she was her own prisoner. Someone seemed to care...
Someone... But who and Why?


Corrin opened the kitchen cupboard and placed the pie dish safely
inside. The next phase of her grand design was slightly more complex and
required a degree of timing.

Sunday morning rose cold but cheer, a slight breeze blew from the east.
Corrin washed, then dressed herself in warm, dark clothes and made her way
across the rutted track to AnnaLee's house. She carried a freshly baked
apple pie that she set down on the porch in roughly the spot that the
previous pie had occupied. This time she wanted AnnaLee to see who left
the pie but not be able to ask her why.

The porch was old and the weathered wooden boards creaked as she got
closer to the furthest window to peek inside. Her heartbeat raced as she
caught sight of AnnaLee sitting at the writing bureau. Her long brown,
wavy hair gleamed from the low sun slanting through the window on the
adjacent wall.

Corrin's heart skipped a beat. For her, time lay suspended. She gazed
fixedly at the young girl's poise and concentration that seemed to create a
void into which she stepped. How long she remained in this state she could
only imagine.

The rumble from an approaching lorry broke the magical moment she had
formed in her mind. She looked into AnnaLee's eyes.

"Oh, my god," she said, turning and running from the porch across the
street to the sanctitude of her home. She heard AnnaLee open her front
door and cry out, then she was inside with the door closed; her breathing
laboured from exhileration, success and lack of fitness.

Somehow she knew that AnnaLee would not follow her. She was right.

AnnaLee went back indoors with the second apple pie rather than go
across to Corrin and ask her to explain her actions.


Once again the clean pie dish was placed on the porch to await its
owner, however, this time an envelope was taped to the underside. When
Corrin returned home she opened it and read from the single sheet of paper,
'Heaven has no rage, like love to hatred turned, Nor Hell a fury, like a
woman scorned.'

They were communicating. The first step towards her goal had been
fairly straightforward. Now came the hard part; the time for reason.

The next morning, dull and drear, saw Corrin standing pensively at
AnnaLee's front door. She took a deep breath and rapped three times. She
heard movement from the front room, then footsteps on the wooden flooring
drawing ever closer.

The door unlocked and opened.

Corrin spoke first, "I feel that I owe you an explanation. Apologies
may come later but I need you to understand that whatever you feel about my
intrusion into your life I will leave now and we can forget the incident
the other day."

AnnaLee spoke tersely, "Explain, please."

"Two years ago, when your mother passed away... I saw the preacher that
night. I heard things and did nothing. I am ashamed of my inaction and
want to make amends in whatever way I can. Call it guilt... whatever, but
would you allow me to talk to you ocassionally. I... I know you enjoy
writing but do you like to read as well. I have a small library..."


"LeFay. Corrin LeFay... Call me Corrin."

"Mrs LeFay... Corrin, I want to thank you for the apple pies but I
don't know what you believe you saw on the night of my mother's death.
Please... I..."

"Don't shut me out AnnaLee. Whatever you say to me will remain between
us. I'm not a social do-gooder. We can help one another. It just needs a
step in that direction. I have something to offer... it's called
friendship and I'd like you to take it. Don't make a decision today. I'll
call again in a few days, 'bye AnnaLee."

Corrin smiled and turned to walk away. A hand reached out and held her

"Stay... Please... I'm sorry. I'm not used to visitors and we seem to
have... I seem to have... well..."

"Please... It's me who should apologise."

"Would you like to come in for a coffee? It's bitterly cold out here."

"That would be wonderful, yes."

AnnaLee stepped back and held the door open for her. As she drew close,
Corrin caught the faintest hint of apple blossom fragrance.

"That's a nice fragrance you're wearing."

"It was... my mother's. Can I take your coat?"

Corrin took off her coat and handed it to AnnaLee who hung it on a
coatstand that stood beside the hall mirror.

Corrin had taken great pains over her appearance that morning and wore a
light green cardigan over a pale green high necked, cotton dress that fell
to just above the knee.

Entering the kitchen Corrin felt she was back at her home. The oil
fired boiler beside the back door radiated heat into the room. The warmth
created a cosy feeling that pleasantly combined with the other pine kitchen

Corrin took a seat at the kitchen table while AnnaLee filled the kettle.

"Do you mind if I ask how you spend your day, besides the obvious
cooking and cleaning that's the bane of my life as well?" asked Corrin.

"I listen to the radio a good deal... and do some reading from mother's
collection of classic books."

"And...?" prompted Corrin.

"Not a lot more really."

"So writing doesn't take up any of your time?"

"Oh, I forgot; the startled face at the window watching me." Smiling,
she looked over her shoulder. "Well... yes, I do write the occassional
story... for my own amusement, you understand."

"What do you write about... when the mood takes you?" asked Corrin,
still probing.

The ululating shrill from the kettle interrupted their conversation and
as she busied herself AnnaLee said, "General fiction... you know...
romance. I write about people and their everyday lives and loves. What
about you, Corrin, what do you do all day in that big house opposite,
besides baking such delicious apple pies..."

"Well, like you, time can hang heavily... sometimes. As you know I
lost my husband five years ago. Since then I've not really needed anyone
else's help or company. So, I only go out when it's absolutely essential.
Solitude brings it's own routine in my life. It's generally one that some
might describe as boring. But I've found that rituals can be a way of
holding onto one's sanity... or stability. When nothing else was there to
take it's place I seemed to drift from one day to the next, not knowing in
what direction to go or what to do next." Corrin picked up the mug that had
been placed before her and sipped the hot coffee. "Mmmm," she said,
"that's nice."

"When you say you have a daily routine, what does that generally
involve?" asked AnnaLee, nonchalantly, sitting down and sipping her own

"Each morning around six o'clock I get up and shower. I like to linger
in the shower. To feel really clean. I'm usually dressed and have made
the bed by six-thirty. I have a plain breakfast made up of cereal, toast
and coffee. Housework and some decorating usually take up the rest of the
morning. Some days it's cooking that takes my time. Jack, my husband,
used to say that he only lived for my cooking... Like you, I listen to the
radio. Oh, and occassionally I'll sit crocheting just listening to the
music. By ten o'clock it's time for bed, though I don't usually fall
asleep till ten-thirty."

"How come?"

"Well... you know. Things to do... A woman's needs. Just because
there's no man about doesn't mean that we have to go short. Surely you
have needs too?"

" I... I don't... well I've never thought to... My writing usually
fulfills me..."

"Sure, I can understand your writing fulfilling your spiritual needs but
physical needs are entirely different?"

"It's getting rather hot in here," said AnnaLee, taking off her dark
blue woollen jumper. "Let's go through into the lounge." They stood up and
walked through the kitchen door into the hallway then through another
doorway, into the lounge. They sat together on a large, comfortable, fawn
fabric sofa that had seen better days.

AnnaLee's curiosity had been aroused and when she asked Corrin how many
times a week she satisfied her needs, then Corrin knew she had a subject
that she could talk about for hours.

"Every night," she divulged.

"Every night? Wow, that must take a lot of stamina? How do you get
aroused? Do you play with anything or just use your fingers?" she
questioned, like an excited teenager. "I'm sorry. I got carried away.
Too many personal questions. We hardly know one another and here I am
asking you how you make love to yourself."

"Asking me or finding out for yourself, AnnaLee?"

"I... I don't understand..." she sounded nonplussed.

"Well, you can only be, what, twenty years old and as far as I'm aware
you've not had a lover for the past two years which would make you around
eighteen when you..." her voice trailed off as she realised her mistake.
AnnaLee's face crumpled, her tears came easily.

"Go," she sobbed, "please go."

"No, AnnaLee, I'll not go. I'm sorry for my clumsiness. When you said
nothing happened that night I believed you. But something terrible did
happen to you and not talking about it will only increase the pain. Talk
to me, please," she coaxed. "Telling me will halve your burden. Trust me.
I've told you about my most personal life. I trust you not to tell anyone
else. Put your trust in me. What happened that night your mother died?"

She wept, "I... I can't. It's too horrible... to put... into words."

Corrin leant across clasping AnnaLee's hands. She got up, drawing AnnaLee with her. They stood looking at each other for a few seconds then
Corrin hugged her closely whispering, "It's okay to cry AnnaLee." Tears
came into Corrin's eyes. "Let it out, honey. I'm here for you. I think I
understand. No one was there for me either when Jack died."

For the next few minutes Corrin was aware only of her own tears, her own
breasts rising and falling against AnnaLee's. The apple blossom scent
filled her nostrils, comforting her. They clung together.

Soon the tears subsided and they regained some of their composure.

In a very dispassionate tone and still clinging onto Corrin as if she
needed her strength, AnnaLee recounted the events of that evening. As the
story became sexual so too did the anger and vulgarity with which she
described what took place.

"I knew when the time had come for my mother to receive the priest. I
telephoned him and he said he would be right over. The church was only a
few minutes drive away and it was not long before I heard a knock on the
front door. It was dark ouside and as he too wore dark clergyman's
clothing the hall light lit up his face like a beacon. It was a face that
reminded me of an actor I had seen in a film a few month's previously... A
young, wild looking Jack Nicholson, if you can remember 'The Shining.'

"After the priest had administered the last rites to my mother he came
up behind me. The first I knew of his intentions came as he lifted the hem
of my velvet dress. His soft hands travelled quickly up the backs of my
bare legs onto my thighs. "No," I cried, twisting around. That's when he
hit me across my face. I screamed out in terror and fell on my stomach
onto the bed where my dead mother lay. He grabbed at my legs and my dress
was thrown up over my face. My legs were forced apart. My thin cotton
panties ripped away. He pulled me towards him. I knew what would happen
and braced myself for his hardness to force it's way into me but as I felt
the tip of his cock touch my sensitive lips it was wet. He had used his
saliva to lubricate access to my virginity. There was a slight hesitation
as his cock came up against my hymen, then he was rampant against my warm
backside. His balls slapped against me as he enjoyed his power over me.

"I held onto my dead mother's hand for comfort and cried in anger and in
anguish. My sobbing muffled beneath the heavy, velvet dress over my head.

"I felt his cock swell up and his urgent pounding increase in tempo as
his seed exploded into me. I heard him cry out in relief as his throbbing
manhood pulsed into my tortured body. He continued thrusting, using his
strong hands around my narrow waist to pull me against him. Once his
sexual urge had eventually subsided he withdrew and bound my hands in front
of me using my torn panties, then slowly he stripped away my remaining
clothing. My bra he used to tie my ankles together and tore a strip of
fabric from my dress with which to gag me.

"I remained on my stomach where he'd raped me, his seed oozing from my
vagina. He picked me up and carried me across his shoulders into my
bedroom where he flung me onto the bed face down, tying my wrists to the
forged steel and brass headboard, then he left the room. I heard a stream
of urine hitting the pan in the toilet. Silence. The toilet flushed.
Silence, deafening silence.

"He came back into the bedroom and I heard the rustling of fabric as
though he was undressing. When he came up behind me he raised me up and
pushed me towards the headboard so that I was forced head down onto my
pillow with my buttocks pointing up to the ceiling. He used his rigid
member to wipe the oozing semen from my vagina around my tiny anus and
plunge forcefully deep into my arse. I grunted and groaned with the pain
and indignity of this violation to my body but what could I do? I was

"Each groan from me seemed to incite his movements into me more
forcefully. At sometime during my bodies defilement my mind slipped into a
stupor, a trance-like state that seemed to separate my body and mind from
what each was experiencing. I didn't feel his white fluid flow into my
bowels, neither did I realise that he had untied my hands from the
headboard or released my gag and been lifted into the bathroom. It was the
warm stinging spray from the shower that brought me to my senses. His
hands moved over my soft skin as he washed away the sweat and body fluids.
He flung a towel at me and I slowly dried myself as best I could with my
hands and feet still tied. On my knees, I watched wide-eyed as he played
with his flaccid erection close to my face. Slowly it came erect. He
grasped my wet hair and drew my head backwards saying vehemently, "Suck on
it, whore. Suck on it till I come, then swallow all of my seed. If you
bite it I'll kill you."

"He released my hands so that I was able to use them and my mouth to
bring him to ejaculation. It took awhile and my mouth became sore from the
constant rubbing from his hardness. As the time passed and he still hadn't
come my mouth became dry through a mixture of fear and loathing. He used
some baby lotion from the medicine cabinet and soon after applying this to
his prick he came in my mouth, grasping and twisting my breasts, pulling
harshly on my nipples.

"I almost gagged as the salty sweetness foamed into my mouth but,
holding back my fear, I swallowed quickly and it was gone. This time there
was only a dribble of spunk. A blessing to my jaded mind.

"He retied my hands and dragged me back into the bedroom where I lay on
my back, tied to the headboard. He freed my ankles and found pantihose
with which to tie each ankle to the lower part of the bed, keeping my legs

"He left the room for over ten minutes and when he returned I saw that
he'd brought with him two identically long ribbed, black dildo's. He must
have got them from his car. He moved me onto my side then used the baby
lotion to lubricate one dildo that was slowly manipulated into my bruised
anus. Once it had been fully inserted he did the same with the other dildo
pushing and twisting it in and out until he was satisfied with the result.
A feeling of fullness engulfed my senses.

"'What next?' an anguished thought stamped itself on my mind, 'What have
I done to deserve such torture?'

"For a while he left me blindfold in that anxious state. I sensed his
body lying naked beside me, just gazing at my nudity, unmoved by my plight,
slowly masturbating, then I felt his body shift position. Each dildo was
twisted slightly. It felt like an electric current had coursed through my
lower abdomen. Time passed and again he made the same adjustment. After
each dildo had been manipulated my breasts were gently carressed. The soft
palms of his hands were coated with baby lotion as they moved slowly over
and around my soft, large mounds, then his fingers suddenly tweaked my
nipples or he nipped at them with his teeth. At first I thought,
'Exquisite torture,' but as time passed I became aware more of the pleasure
that was being inflicted and the realization dawned that he was forcing me
to climax. With this awareness in my mind the full horror of my
predicament came home to me. It was then that he stopped what he was doing
and he got off the bed. He removed my blindfold and used it as a gag. He
placed a pillow next to my stomach and eased my weight onto it, ensuring
that both dildo's were still in place. My bottom stuck up into the air.

"I heard the swish of the bamboo cane, felt the slap, as it struck my
bare bottom, followed by the sharp stinging pain. My cry was muffled by
the gag. The warm aftermath flowed across my bottom. Soft hands massaged
my buttocks. I felt him kissing the dark pink welt left by the cane and
the feeling of a cool liquid poured onto the inflamed area, his fingers
manipulated the baby lotion along the length of the ridged welt."

AnnaLee whispered close to Corrin's ear, "It felt wonderful," as though
she was enjoying the moment. "The pain easing with each carress. Then he
struck again and the pain... The pain forced its way back into my mind.

"The agony and the ecstacy were inflicted a further three times, then,
blindfolding me, he rolled me onto my back. My breasts seemed larger, my
nipples too, and much more tender as he carressed their ovalness. As he
moved, to touch the dark, cold ivory protruding from my vagina, I felt a
warm flush across my chest and the first flutterings within my abdomen.
The dildo was twisted and turned rhythmically in and out, in and out of my
tight vagina. A feeling of utter helplessness entered my mind and I
allowed my body the orgasmic convulsion that swept over me, through me,
around me. It was everywhere and still it continued. The dildo's rhythmic
pumping. The carresses to my breasts. His teeth delicately nipping at my
hard nipples.

"My body was in Heaven, Corrin, but my mind was in Hell."

Corrin said nothing, her mind stunned by the sadistic pleasure spoken by
such a sweet innocent girl.

"My climax eventually subsided and he left the room for twenty minutes
or so to allow me rest. Then it started all over again.

"My second climax lasted almost twice as long as the first.

"As I lay gasping and crying tears of shame he whispered into my ear,
'I'll call again. You'll let me in.' He cut my bonds, removed the
blindfold and holding a kitchen knife to my throat he continued, 'I'll know
if you tell anyone and that includes the police. If you do I'll come
back.' He removed the dildo's.

"Then he was gone. Physically he'd left my home but he was still there
with me. He was in my head. In my vagina. In my arse. I dragged my
aching, brutalised body into the shower and remained there under the warm
water for what seemed an eternity. I created an enema that would remove
all traces of him from my body, and it worked. I watched his whiteness
disappear down the shower waste. I swallowed two of my mother's Valium
tablets, relaced my own bedding with clean sheets and fell asleep."

"AnnaLee, I had no idea..." Corrin spoke softly, "I should not have
pressed you into reliving this... this... nightmare." She released her
clasping companion and holding her hands she spoke slowly and concisely, "I
meant what I said. Your... hurt remains here. I'll never repeat a word."

"I know, but I haven't finished. The nightmare continued. The
following week... I answered a knock at the door..." she choked back the
horror, "It was around seven in the evening," tears flowed down AnnaLee's
reddened cheeks, "It was him, Corrin," her shoulders shook, her soft chin
vibrated under tense emotional anguish, she grimaced from the pain of

Grasping Corrin's hands, she uttered her next words in a wail of
emotion, "I let him in."


The priest had called twice a week for the next three months when, for
no apparent reason on her part, he stopped calling.

The time came when she had to know if he was ever coming back and so she
telephoned the Bishop to ask what had happened to her local priest who had
comforted her after her mother's death. She was told that he'd been
offered another parish in the north of england and he'd accepted the post.

She was free of him. Free at last to determine her own future. Free
to... to what? Her life had no meaning. She had been his puppet to do
with as he pleased. Now who would pull the strings? Did she yearn for
freedom or become someone else's puppet in order to survive?

For some reason she found herself sitting at her mother's writing bureau
making notes of her ordeal, then over the course of time her notes became a
story that became a novel. Her first novel. Her stories cleansed the hurt but they also became addictive. "As though by putting my thoughts and
experiences onto paper I could erase him from my mind. But it doesn't work
that way. I realise that now."

"I'd like to read what you've written... If you wouldn't mind?"

"No, I don't mind. I'll get you my first novel," said AnnaLee, and left
the room.

Corrin sat down on the large sofa, kicking off her shoes and drawing up
her legs. From the kitchen she heard the clatter of mugs and AnnaLee
calling out, "Would you like another coffee?"

"Yes, please," said Corrin, deep in thought.

A few minutes later AnnaLee came back with a large sheaf of papers under
one arm and two steaming mugs of coffee. Corrin spoke first. "AnnaLee,
how do you feel now that at last you've told somebody about that dreadful

"Better... A whole lot better..." she said, taking her place next to
Corrin on the sofa. "And relieved that I don't have to feel quite so
guilty about what happened. You were right when you said that a problem
shared is a problem halved."

"AnnaLee, I've had time to think while you were in the kitchen... What
are your feelings about getting the police involved now that he's left the
parish or do you just want to put all this down to experience and to try
and rebuild your life."

"No, no police. I've come to terms with what happened... in my own way
perhaps but... What could they do now anyway? There's no evidence. It
would just be my word against his."

"But suppose he's out there now, doing the same thing to another
innocent girl or woman. Surely, by speaking out something you say may
trigger other women to come forward and then the police would have to take
you seriously."

"And if they don't come forward? Suppose I was the first and he hasn't
done anything since. I'm going to look pretty silly aren't I?"

"Okay, suppose you were his first victim; after what you described he
did to you I'm pretty confident that he's got a taste for this and after
two years away from you there just have to be other women victims like

"I don't know. Let me think about it for a while. Don't push me too
fast too hard."

"I won't, I promise. I'll understand if you don't want to pursue this
any further but... it just riles me that he's going to get away with
this... to someone who I've really grown quite fond of in a very short

"That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me in..."

"A long time," they chorused and laughter filled the room.


The remainder of their day was taken up with talking, listening, eating
food and drinking. By early evening Corrin felt that she should go, not
wishing to outstay her welcome.

"Come over to me tomorrow," asked Corrin, hugging AnnaLee close to her,
as they stood on the porch saying goodbye. "It's not far and I would
really give you a warm welcome."

"We'll see," said AnnaLee.

"'Far' and 'fear' are two worlds apart," quipped Corrin, as she walked
down the porch steps clutching AnnaLee's manuscript against the biting


It was just before ten o'clock that same evening, as Corrin was
preparing for bed, that she heard a knock at the front door. She hurriedly
put on her long cotton dressing gown, then went downstairs. Through the
spyhole she was surprised to see AnnaLee dressed only in a light, white
terry robe over a long cotton nightdress. She unbolted the door and
AnnaLee threw her arms around her, hugging her close whispering, "Teach me
to love. I don't want to go through life wondering if all men are the
same... Wanting the same things that he did to me and never knowing if
there was a different way to love."

With both hands Corrin held AnnaLee away from her and in a hushed voice
she said, "All men aren't like him, AnnaLee." She released her hold on
AnnaLee, then closed and locked the front door. "But," she continued, "if
you want us to learn to love together then you've come to the right house."

Corrin led her upstairs into her darkened bedroom.

"I'm... I'm..." whispered AnnaLee.

"I'm as excited and terrified as well," Corrin whispered, not wishing to
break the spell by talking aloud. "Get undressed and get into bed. I'll
get some more pillows from the other room."

Corrin found some pillows and handed them to AnnaLee, then took off her
dressing gown. She snuggled under the covers into the warmth created by a
nude body that reached out and wrapped two lithe arms around her drawing them closer together. Their bodies melted where they touched, their faces
met and lips brushed over moist lips. Then they were kissing; deep
responsive kisses that required their utmost concentration. Corrin broke
free and threw off the bed clothes. "It's so hot," she complained.

"That's what passion produces, excess body heat," replied AnnaLee

"It's even affected your voice," Corrin quipped.

"Then kiss me again, Corrin, and I'll see if I can make your voice drop
down an octave or two."

Corrin moved on top of AnnaLee and they kissed as only lovers do. Long,
hard and with their tongues invading each other's mouth. As their fear of
the unknown evaporated so their hands and tongues explored each other's
silky body.

Tentative carresses on exposed thighs, lingering kisses to the underside
of firm breasts, then the moment each woman had yearned for throughout
their exploration. Their fingertips carressed the outer lips to the
other's warmest channel.

Together they moaned, "Mmmm."

Their arousal heightened as they probed deeper and a wetness enveloped
their fingers. They used this wetness to push aside their partners outer
vaginal lips and to moisten the bud that bloomed at the top of their
slippery, hairy furrow.

Again they moaned, "Mmmm." The sounds of love hung in the evening air.

Minutes passed. The air musky with the scent of love.

AnnaLee whispered, "Taste me," and Corrin turned her body round and over
the supine AnnaLee. Kneeling down she tentatively flicked her moist tongue
over the young girls clitoris that stood proudly erect, glistening in the
monlight now streaming through the bedroom window.

"Aghh," gasped AnnaLee, her body shuddering. "That's wonderful...
More. More. Don't stop."

"Me too," whispered Corrin, hoping to provoke a reaction from AnnaLee.

AnnaLee wrapped her arms around Corrin's lower torso and lifted herself
up to bury her mouth into the deliciously tasting nectar that seeped so
sweetly from between Corrin's engorged groove.

As each tongue lapped indolently at each succulent font their actions
quickened as they felt their orgasm building. Each wanted the other to be
the first to feel the release of sweet sensation that bubbled up then broke
with a rush like water over rapids in a stretch of icy white water; of
wanting that sensation to go on and on and never stop. The emotional tears
burst free from eyes seeking happiness within their partners eyes. Then
the tidal flow ebbed; a calmness enveloped them.

Deep inside them the spark of love lay smouldering, to be ignited later
when their partner would touch them in a certain way and their sexual
release would begin again.

Their's remained bright all through that night.

As dawn broke the morning light captured a glint in their eyes. A gleam
that remained there forever.

End (C) Copyright Amaranthus Extract from the poem 'Auguries of
Innocence,' by William Blake. Extract from the poem 'The Mourning Bride,'
by William Congreve.


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