Reposted with the late additional prequel chapter inserted where it belonged...at the front!

Hope this reposting nonsense is OK, otherwise let me know and I'll stop.

Naomi

Slowly, but with a sort of cursed inevitability, consciousness returned to the Campbell brain. I cranked open one sticky eyelid and stared blearily at the always open laptop beside my bed. The pre-set gentle alarm was tinkling a Bach symphony at me as if afraid to wake the sleeping dragon beside it. OK, I don't like mornings, right?

I opened the other eye, and regretted it immediately. Not because I had a hangover. Strict discipline last night, drinking a glass of mineral water between rounds, had prevented that, but because I was now remembering who ended up in my bed after the multiple tequila and lime slices. Rebecca...

Well, Becky actually, as she insisted on being called. Like some eager catholic schoolgirl, hanging on every word I uttered, however banal, and looking at me like I was the new Messiah or something. I fucking hate curious straight girls. Mention the word lesbian to them at any stage in an alcohol soaked evening and I swear you can read their emotions like a children's pop up book. First embarrassment, because its the thing they have been daydreaming about ever since they found out dipping a hand in your own knickers can be fun. Then fear, because with every round of shots, they can feel their curiosity solidifying into something reckless, something they could actually experience, if only they had another one of those disgusting tequila's. Then the touching began. Nothing serious, just the graze of a hand on yours as you pass them a glass. The looks follow. Like fucking Bambi just found out that fawns can be gay too (and how weird is that, that I use the words gay, fucking and Bambi in one sentence?)... Then the laughing too loud at your jokes, the constant looking at your tits and your lips, like they want to devour you right now.

I blame my own cowardice. I could have just excused myself, left the club early and had a nice early night with my little battery powered rabbit. But even with the glasses of water between rounds, I was feeling the booze influence myself. She was cute, in a home counties, middle class sort of way. Quite tall, blonde, natural, unlike me (and yes, I have visual evidence for that statement) nice big tits which bounced attractively when she laughed, which was a lot as the evening went on. Nice legs too, long and pale. She had a boyfriend, of course. She insisted on taking out a photo and showing us. Dominic, or something. A photographer, dark haired and slightly middle eastern in looks. Not that I made any attempt to engage with her gushing about him. He wasn't there, but she was, and I caught my friend Alice grinning at me as I stole another look at Becky's tits when she leaned forward to take her fresh glass. Alice leaned over and whispered into my ear in a fucking lame stage whisper.

"Another newborn to the slaughter Naoms?" she smiled "They'll start calling you King Herod soon"

I grimaced at her, flashing her one of my patented Campbell frowns. What was the problem? She wanted it, I wanted it, and fucking Dominic would get the benefit in the long run anyway. Next time she was underneath him in bed, inspecting the ceiling for cracks and searching for a fantasy to get herself off before he blew, bingo...here's one I made earlier. No brainer, really.

So I waited till she was in the loo and followed her in. The look she gave me as I watched her putting on lip gloss was as transparent as it was hungry. I wasn't about to fuck around. I knew I had an early one tomorrow, so subtlety was unnecessary and time consuming.

"Rebecca?" I said, standing close behind her and looking over her shoulder at our reflection. She swallowed and waited for me to continue.

"Shall we cut the crap?" I winked slyly "We could go down the 'I'm not gay' and 'I have a boyfriend route' but I think we're way past that, huh?"

Still she was silent, but I saw her hand clutching her handbag like it was the only solid item in a storm tossed sea. I smirked at her wide eyed fear and pounced. Its best in the long run, no point in endless teasing is there? My fucking ex Elizabeth was the mistress of that art, and I now hated her for it. Two timing bitch...

"I live about 100 yards that way" I pointed. "If you come back to my apartment tonight little girl, I'll rock your fucking world"

I leaned closer, until my tits were pressed against her back. I felt her shudder, and her eyes got even wider.

I slid a hand round her waist and up until it cupped one of her big, firm tits, squeezing gently. She stared at my hand as it squeezed, like a mouse at a snake.

"I'll make you come so many times, you'll leave my bed on your knees" I whispered in her ear, running my tongue slowly over her earlobe as I did. I swear she had a mini orgasm just from that. I actually felt her body shake.

I stood back and left her to think about it abruptly. Made my excuses to the two guys who were still trying to get repayment in kind for the shed-load of drinks they had bought us, and winked at Alice.

"Going home hun" I grinned "Things to see, places to go, people to do, you know?"

She grinned back and started her farewell patter to the two would be lesbian turners. I knew it would take her about 3 minutes tops to break it to them gently they would have more chance with each other than her, then fuck off the hell out of there. She had plenty of practice at that particular dark art.

I heard the toilet door swish behind me, but didn't look back. I walked quickly to the double doors in front of me and out into the crisp autumn night air. I waited about 2 minutes. I was getting good at this. Like 5.4 3,2,1...

"Hi" I heard a nervous voice behind me and smirked to myself smugly. Right on the button. I turned and forced a surprised look onto my face.

"Hi you" I said "Coffee?"

There was no coffee, and pretty soon after my apartment door closed behind us, no clothes either. She was eager, compliant and spectacularly grateful, it turned out. The tits were even better naked and the light dusting of blonde hair between her legs only emphasised for me her inexperience. I don't know or care what her and Dominic got up to in their bedroom, but judging by her moans and screams, it wasn't much competition. I made her come with my fingers, accompanied by some pretty frantic kissing. Then I went down on her, slowly and methodically, which made her thrash about like someone plugged into the mains. I guess old Dom wasn't much of an oral man then...Orgasm two.

When she had come three times, I let her have a play with the Campbell merchandise, but to be honest, like most beginners, she was totally shit at it. I mean, really? Nowadays you only have to log on to Google to see how its done, right? There are a fucking million websites on lesbian sex, even if you discount the fucking lamo men inspired fantasies. Haven't these girls ever seen 'I Feel Myself?' Jesus...

Eventually, I prised her nervous fingers out of me. We won't even talk about her aborted attempt to lick my clit. Lets just say I think my neighbours dog would be better at it (and don't even think that!) . I sighed. I should have known better. Straight girls...

"Look Becky" I said "No disrespect, but we'll be here until noon tomorrow if thats the best you can come up with. Why don't you just go home now?"

She blinked away a tear and for a millisecond I felt sorry for her, but it passed.

"I'll go then" she said in a defeated voice "Sorry"

"No problem" I lied smoothly "You had fun, right?"

She nodded, and we went through that weird post sex dance where she was suddenly embarrassed about letting me see her naked, despite the fact that I had touched and licked every fucking inch of her for the past two hours. She dressed quickly and stood for a second, looking down at me. I was naked, half under the sheet, and saw no point in hiding the fact. Her eyes flicked over my tits for the last time and she tried one more time to keep her dignity.

"Do you want to... I mean, it was amazing for me...I can do better...I...I want to please you like you pleased me...Can I give you my number...?" she rambled sweetly.

I sighed. "Look Becky. You had fun, I had fun making you come, but you have a boyfriend right?"

She nodded silently.

"OK, then lets just put this down to experience, OK? Now you know...huh?"

She nodded again. Finally the penny was dropping.

"Uh, OK" she said quietly "Well, thanks anyway...it was..."

"Yeah, I know" I said. "It generally is"

When the apartment door closed behind her I let out the long breath I had been holding. Thank fuck for that. Since I had had my heart broken by Elizabeth, that was my strictest rule. NO overnighters. Mission accomplished.

XXX

So here I was, opening my eyes to another fucking mundane morning. Although this wasn't just any morning. I had to get up in 15 minutes, shower and dress, ready for something I wasn't looking forward to at all. What had possessed me to agree to appear on that fucking lame chat show, I have no idea, unless I accepted that my fucking ego wouldn't allow me to say no. Jenna Fucking Fitch of all people. Scourge of the LGBT community. How the fuck she got away with some of the stuff she said was frankly sickening. One of her researchers had contacted me last month. Obviously my blog was reaching more than just it's target audience nowadays.

Now I know that 'Typing the Velvet' isn't the slickest name for a blog, but since I started it, just over a year ago, I had accumulated a pretty big following. Mostly interactive discussions, comments about the latest fuckery to come out of that beacon of truth and justice, 10 Downing Street and musings from me about my sex life and ongoing fight against injustice and prejudice. It seemed to strike a chord with lots of people, from nervous 18 year olds with coming out issues, to middle aged women who had lived a life up to now of complete denial. I tried to make it fun and light, but it touched a few people, and I was fucking proud of it. And now I had to go onto this shite show with its' homophobic host and defend my right to free speech. Well. Jenna Fitch might find out I can be as feisty in real life as I am online.

I groaned and stretched. Gotta go, I kept telling myself, as the second alarm segued into a bit of strident Pink. Clever huh? Bach to start, bitch music to get up to...

I slammed a finger down onto the escape key. Fuck Pink, I still had issues to deal with. Becky had started the engine, and it was still running. I looked at the clock again. 12 minutes. I could do that... I slid a hand down my body and opened my thighs. I was still slightly damp...good. Now, who's today's fantasy shag, Naomi?

Images of a naked Jennifer Lawrence, Roxanne McKee and Fiona Button normally did the trick. I settled back on the pillow and waited for my imagination to do its job. I could hear small liquid sounds as my fingers danced the dance they had been doing several times a week since my 14th birthday.

Nice...

Trouble was, I couldn't get there. I thought of Becky's tits as they shook and bounced while I was fucking her. Nope. Even imagining Jennifer Lawrence looking up at me from between my legs, which was usually a nailed on certainty, failed. Shit. I can't go out this morning unsatisfied. I'll be even more cranky than usual, and thats not good on a live talk show. I searched my imagination for even more exotic scenarios.

Just then a flash of remembered vivid red crossed my fevered imagination. Oh yeah. The straight girl with the dorky husband across the courtyard. I had once caught a glimpse of her changing, a week or so ago. Just a teasing image of her holding up a bra to her tits before she put it on. I had stood there, hoping against hope that she wouldn't remember her curtains were open. My bedroom was the only place you could see hers from, as the block was arranged in an L shape, and we were diagonally opposite. My fucking luck, I got one full on look at her half naked body before she cottoned on that she was putting on a free show. She nearly killed herself rushing to the window to pull the curtains. I caught one last look of wide chocolate eyes looking straight at me as I stood there with my coffee cup in hand, before she was gone. Jesus, she was fucking fit.

I suddenly realised that my fingers were speeding up, and I almost stopped. For fucks sake Naomi, I told myself. One straight girl a night not enough now? But then my inner demon whispered silkily into my brain "Forget that, she's gonna get you off baby"

And she did. Fucking hard and fast, thanks very much. It was slightly disconcerting. I'd spent over two hours last night, fucking a very responsive and willing woman, but all it took was a flash of a pair of small unattainable tits and I was gasping and thrashing around like I'd just discovered orgasms. Shit, I needed coffee...

Ten minutes later, I was sipping a cup of rich Java, with my old favourite too big Paramore tee shirt on, listening to some lamo AM jockey playing sounds of the eighties. I had checked my email and blog, but there wasn't anything compelling on either this early. Just then the Vapors started playing 'Turning Japanese'

OK, OK, it's my guilty secret. Having a hippy mother and endless vagrants staying over while I was growing up had given me, shall we say, an eclectic taste in music. I just love some of this post punk stuff, OK? Get over it...

So I started to spin and jig about, stopping only to put down my coffee. Sacrilege to waste good coffee. I pulled open the curtains and carried on dancing to myself.

Suddenly, I got the strong feeling I was being watched. Normally, I couldn't give a flying fuck, but I was naked under this tee, so I tried to see who it was, without letting on I was aware. Sure enough, I could see that red hair again. She was in the window, fussing with something on the windowsill, doing whatever. I could see, as I spun and twisted that she was flat out staring. Right Missy, I thought. I've seen your tits. Get a load of these puppies.

Trying not to make it look too contrived, I pulled my tee over my head in one swift move and stared into the distance, away from her window. But in my peripheral vision, I could see she was still staring hard at me. I gave her about 5 long seconds, resting my waist on the window sill and staring out over the common. Still she looked. Hooked...

Well Miss Married with Benefits, I thought, now you've had a good long perv, time for confrontation.

I deliberately and slowly turned my head and totally caught her checking me out. I know you can't see a blush at twenty feet, but I swear her face went the same colour as her hair. I gave her a broad and knowing wink, and her mouth opened like a goldfish as I smiled at her expression. In a flash, she had turned away and fled into another room. Gotcha, I thought.

Fifteen minutes later, I was unlocking my car and getting ready to face the dragon of morning TV...

XXX

Arriving at the studios, my early morning unexpected titillation was put firmly in its place, at the back of my mind, by the jobsworth fuckwit on duty at the car park, who decided my Visitors Pass wasn't legitimate. So I spent over 5 minutes waiting for another fuckwit to appear with the correct one. I mean, for God's sake, they sent me the damned thing in the first place, yeah? I had insisted on getting a car park pass, as a condition of appearing in this lamo Jeremy Kyle Lite show in the first place. It's bad enough having my carefully constructed routine interrupted, of 10 am waking, light breakfast and lots of expensive coffee, reading the all papers online for interesting articles and then checking out the latest You Tube horrors, before opening my blog and letting whatever homophobe politician or celebrity who had transgressed have it with both barrels. Bad enough that, but now I have suffer the only fools and horses routine here. It's not as if it's a proper TV channel even. Anyone with a pot of gold and an axe to grind can set up a satellite channel nowadays. And when I got into the building and saw the huge wall mounted pictures of Jenna Fitch grinning nastily in reception, I realised that my worst fears were about to come true...

I spent an inordinate amount of time in make up having some nervous teenager plaster me with foundation, double annoying, considering that I spent a good hour at home making sure I looked good anyway. I didn't want the dragon to think I couldn't dress myself, so I had avoided any floral or paisley stuff and settled for a plain white Equipment shirt, unbuttoned so at least a bit of cleavage showed (I didn't want to come across as too much of a dungarees and brogues cliché yet) I also had my black pleated River Island trousers and leather ankle boots on. I topped the outfit off with an Ungaro vintage electric blue waistcoat which I had mortgaged my soul to get online when a particularly nice royalty cheque arrived last year. I looked hot...I think. Too fucking good for this shock jockey anyway.

At last, there was a knock at the make up room door and a timid voice called my name. I shrugged off the girls attempts to add yet another layer of pancake to my forehead and stood up, brushing my trousers down and giving myself one last look in the mirror. Here goes then, I thought grimly. Christians vs Lions it is then.

I opened the door, and all the work I had just undergone to make my face as screen ready as possible nearly ended in a big fat fail. I don't know who was more surprised, her or me, but it was a close fucking thing. Big fat festering bollocks, I thought.

Fucking Miss 'I'm in the closet, so you can't get me, you scary lesbian across the block' was standing there with a look on her face which I'm pretty sure mirrored mine. I saw several emotions cross that pretty face (and trust me, it was very very pretty) Shock, guilt, shame and a bit of terror. I don't do terror, but I know the first one I had was followed by another random thought, which I hope she didn't see. Lust. Pure and simple. Jesus, I would cross a bank of hot coals barefoot with a white rose (complete with thorns) sticking out of my arse to see that face underneath me in bed, I thought, before rapidly rearranging my features into something approaching normality.

"Hi" I said lamely, and then mentally called myself a 'see you next Tuesday' a microsecond later

"Err, Hi...Miss Campbell?" she muttered, looking intently down at her clipboard like it would miraculously provide a convenient trap door for her to jump into.

"That would be me" I said, momentarily regaining the power of coherent speech.

She looked up at me then, and those chocolate brown eyes locked onto mine in a very unsettling way. Again my inner devil spoke of nakedness and orgasmic writhing before I could lock it back into its cage. Fucker. Down girl. This is no time to bring a child into the world, Naomi.

"And you are...?" I said, as she seemed to be a bit behind me in the regaining speech category.

"Ummm... Emily...Emily Fitch" she said in a small voice, and I died a bit more. Fuck me she had a wonderful voice. Husky and low, like...Oh fuck it, stop already Naomi, I told myself. Its all a bit pointless, huh?. I forced myself to look away and down at the slim hand which was gripping that clipboard so tight. I saw it then. A big fuck off engagement ring, with a rock the size of Gibraltar, and next to it a thin gold wedding band. Mine, it said, but someone else's mine, not Naomi Campbell mine. She might be susceptible to long distance lesbian flirting, but that pair of rings told me someone was placing a very definite lock and chain on anything further. She might as well have 'Keep off the Muff' printed on her name badge. I shook myself internally and forced my eyes to look at her directly again.

"Fitch...as in Jenna Fitch?" I managed finally.

She blinked and nodded before answering.

"Err, yeah. That's my mother actually. I'm the floor manager today, so if you'd like to follow me, the warm up guy is just finishing his slot. My mothers on set already, so if you could..." she tailed off nervously and started to walk away.

I followed her across the corridor, through the double doors with Studio printed across them and into the darkened room beyond. She guided me between camera's and snaking cables. People milled about silently, making adjustments to the equipment and strange hand signals to each other. It was a bit other worldly to be honest, all technical and uber efficient. Not my style at all, but I steeled myself. I was no sacrificial lamb, and Jenna Fucking Fitch was not gonna throw this lesbian arse to the wolves. I distracted myself by staring openly at the swaying hips and pert little backside walking in front of me. Jesus, did she have any flaws? I hadn't found any yet. Perfect face, perfect lips, perfect arse...Oh and don't forget I had seen those perfect tits too.

All too soon, we were passing the studio audience on our right, I could see a middle aged guy in a suit standing in front of the raised platform in front of us. Two leather chairs, one occupied by one Jenna Fitch, the other empty. Mine I think.

I climbed the two steps to the stage, avoiding another set of wires and sat myself down as gracefully as I could, considering the tightness of my trousers. Another fucking makeup girl tried to make more adjustments to my face, but I waved her off irritably. Enough already. I caught a smirk from my esteemed host as she noticed my annoyance. Her make up was perfect of course. She was about the same build as me, dressed impeccably in a white top and blue power suit. Her elegant legs were covered in what looked like real silk, and I caught a whiff of very expensive perfume...Hermes, I think. Far too rich for my pocket, anyway. She flashed me a supercilious smile, which I dead panned back. I knew what was happening. The softening up was under way. Make your opponent nervous, keep them guessing and then go for the kill. Well this particular gazelle had a secret weapon. The lioness might get a shock, I though, noticing her daughter moving about behind the lights, talking in a low voice and only occasionally glancing up at us.

Then it started. The lights flared, the studio erupted into applause (what the fuck for, who knows?) and some cheesy daytime show music assaulted my offended ears. I steeled myself for the next 15 minutes.

A camera panned to my host, who showed it her perfectly arranged and whitened teeth and the introductions began. After inanely introducing me as "The Queen of the Lesbian Bloggers" she smiled again at her camera and turned to me.

"So, Naomi" she said smoothly "Lesbian blogger? What exactly does that even mean?"

"I'm disappointed Jenna" I said, face impassive "I thought you guys did some research before you invited people along"

She grinned at me without humour "Oh, we do Naomi" she drawled, elongating my name patronisingly "But some of our audience may not be as...up to date as we are about these new... things. Please feel free to enlighten us"

I sighed. This was going to be a long fifteen minutes.

"Well Jenna" I said, "I'm a lesbian, and I blog. Simple really"

She smirked at the camera. "But what specifically does a lesbian blogger do which differs from what normal bloggers do. I mean, life is life, whether you are straight or...affected by homosexuality, yes?"

"I agree with that statement, with one small proviso" I said, looking at her levelly "Official statistics state that around one million people out of a population of 63 million in this country are gay. But that is really a pile of Government issue crap. I firmly believe that almost everyone is bisexual at some point during their life at the very least. The true figure for gay people is probably closer to 30%. Don't you think they deserve a voice too?"

"I'm sure you believe that Naomi" she said smoothly "But speaking as someone who has never had a homosexual thought in their life, I think you are overstating the case somewhat. True love and the actual future of the human race depends on heterosexuality. Procreation and all that... if we all were truly bisexual or completely gay, wouldn't that spell disaster for the future of humanity?" A round of applause greeted her statement.

I smiled at her blandly. Thanks for the own goal Jenna.

"Do you really believe that?" I said "The world is undergoing a population explosion which is threatening to overwhelm the food resources available. In a hundred years, at this rate we will breed ourselves off the earth. The last thing we need is more rampant procreation. (I elongated the word as she had) Maybe if more people gave in to their bisexual impulses, we would all have a better future...and a bit more space"

I heard a small swell of titters from the audience, and saw her eyes darken at the small victory I had gained.

"But speaking as a mother, Naomi, I wouldn't be happy for any of my children to be afflicted with homosexuality. Life is hard enough, without that kind of impediment"

I stiffened, but didn't take the bait, instead I decided to do a bit of attacking myself.

"Can you be absolutely sure that none of your children have ever had a homosexual thought in their lives?" I said, throwing her own words back at her "It's really common in teenagers, or at least teenagers in this enlightened age. We like to experiment when we're young, don't we?. All those sleep overs, skimpy tee shirts and naughty spin the bottle games"

Her eyes flashed and I saw that this was a fear she had actually considered.

"I think we're getting a bit off the point here Naomi" she gritted "Its my job to ask the questions, and yours to answer them"

I smiled back, equally nastily "Oh, sorry Jenna" I said " I thought you had all the answers already. Silly me"

I saw a flicker of doubt cross her face, but before she could interrupt, I carried on.

"I lost my virginity to a girl, not a boy, and I have never had a seconds doubt that I was right in my choices. If your daughters and/or sons find out that being gay is what they are, are you telling me as a mother, you would love them any less?"

She blinked and took her time answering. I had the feeling there was more behind her words, but that was for another time.

"I have beautiful twin daughters actually, and they are both happily married to lovely guys. My son is only a teenage boy yet, but I think I can safely say his interests lie with the opposite sex, thank you" She winked at the audience extravagantly, and they laughed dutifully.

I knew I wasn't going to win this one. But just then I noticed a small face behind the cameras, watching our verbal jousting. Emily. I considered for a microsecond using her to blow Jenna Fitch completely out of the water. Telling her live on the air that her precious daughter had watched me with great interest whilst I was half naked this morning would certainly have made her certainties crumble, and I could see that Emily was terrified I might do just that. But it was only for a second. Not only would it be cruel and destructive, but I really didn't know for certain whether Emily was actually in the closet. For all I knew, she could have a secret girlfriend, who tied her up every night with fur handcuffs and fucked her unconscious with 9 inches of lifelike rubber. Not likely, but who knows. I wasn't kidding with that 30% figure. We are all pretty much bi, it just takes the right person to bring it out...

We spent the next few minutes sparring, but I was just bored with it really. She was never going to see the truth in front of her eyes, and explaining what it is lesbians actually do in bed wasn't really day time TV fodder. My eyes glazed over and I ghost walked through the rest of the interview. Soon enough, the lights dipped and I was off the hook. I left Jenna with a curt goodbye and a short handshake. A score draw, I think.

I made my way off the stage as the commercial break allowed me to exit silently. When I got to the studio doors, Emily stopped me with a gentle hand on my arm. She mouthed 'outside' to me and followed me to the exit.

"Thanks" she said simply, dipping her head as I looked at her

"What for" I said, knowing exactly what she meant

"For not saying what you were dying to say" she said cheekily

"Don't know what you mean" I said nonchalantly.

"Yes you do" she smiled "I think we both do"

I smirked at her and touched the back of her hand with mine, feeling her tremble slightly as I did.

"You should come over for a coffee one morning" I said "seeing as we're neighbours and all that"

"Coffee?" she said, smiling shyly "Is that what they call it nowadays?"

I leaned over and whispered in her ear, so that the over curious security guard couldn't hear.

"It can be anything you want, Emily Fitch..." I breathed "And I think you have wants and needs that never get fulfilled...you'd leave my place a whole lot wiser?"

She shuddered as I finished and blushed even more prettily than before.

"Are you trying to corrupt me Miss Campbell?" she said breathlessly

"Only if you want to be corrupted Miss Fitch" I said, pulling back. "So lovely to meet you in the ...flesh"

I shook her hand formally, for the guards benefit, and left for my car...I heard a small, stifled giggle before the glass doors closed.