Toni's Place

8 p.m.

They never actually finished the dinner. Nor did they bother at first with the explanation; even before they'd finished the starter, which was lobster bisque cooked to perfection, each realised something about the other - something rather more immediate and urgent.

Kelly noticed her scent, and that he'd abruptly developed a hard-on, and thought, Oh, that's sexy. She smells like she's just been fucked...

For her part, Jennifer surprised herself by noticing the slight dilation of his pupils, and realised, He's excited. I wonder why? Then again, do I care, since I'm excited, too? And she was; she'd been aroused by his blunt honesty, and was looking forward to more of it.

In bed, maybe...

Oh, hell, has he picked up on it? Probably, and good God, it's no wonder - I smell like a cat in heat! He must have noticed. But I love those eyes, they're beautiful.

I like her. She's smart and spunky, as well as gorgeous. I think she's willing...best to play it cool, though - if I can, that is...

I wonder what it'd be like to fuck him just as a woman, not as an escort? He isn't all that handsome, but for one thing that doesn't really matter, and for another...ooh, there's such chemistry here. I don't think I've ever felt that with a man before, even David, and he took my virginity at that...

She smells terrific. She's the most beautiful and charming woman I've met in ages. Plus it's been way too long since I got laid, and after all that crap with the bloody Aliens pulling a coup d'état I could definitely use a break, a chance to let go for once. Fuck it - fuck the risk, if she's up for it I'm taking her home. Sylvia vouched for me, so she knows she'll be safe.

He's taking me home. I want him. I haven't wanted a man this badly in years - I really was starting to think I was turning lesbian or something. So fuck the whole escort thing - Kelly McAllister, you're mine, I am so shagging you tonight!

Thus their decision to adjourn to Kelly's home was as mutual as it was unspoken; his hand reached for hers over the table, their fingers touched and everything they needed to say was said in that moment as their eyes met.

I want to fuck you so much, Jennifer.

I want you to fuck me, Kelly. Let's go.

She barely remembered to let Sophie know she wouldn't be home that night; Sophie took the news in her stride and said she'd stay over at a friend's house. Even in the midst of her lust-induced mental haze, she could reflect wryly that perhaps her daughter knew her a bit too well.

Unknown to either, as they arrived at Kelly's home a witness of sorts was speaking into a headset which resembled a Bluetooth device (though it was much smaller, far more secure and possessed a global range), grinning. She reported merrily, "Oh, yeah, he is so gettin' some. That's twenty you guys owe me."

Good for you, Commander, Major Penelope Terry (SHADO Security Officer 1st Class, leader of the Commander's Protection Detail) thought warmly, you deserve it. Give her a good one from me!

Kelly's bedroom

A few minutes later

Jennifer began stripping eagerly, trying not to pant - but dear God, I haven't been this excited in years - but as she crossed her arms and started to pull off her blouse, to her surprise Kelly suddenly stopped doing likewise.

"What?" she asked him, her arms still up; she was halfway there.

"Oh, hold that pose a minute, you beautiful creature, you," he entreated her. "I love it when women take their tops off like that."

She suddenly realised he was looking, not at her breasts (held as they were in a tasteful but revealing lacy white half-cup Victoria's Secret bra), but at her armpits, she was sure. Good God, she thought, wavering between mild shock and amusement, he's actually admiring my armpit hair!

"Hmm...have I discovered one of your fetishes already, Kelly?" she quipped. "You like women who don't shave? Or is that just redheads?"

"Jennifer," he told her softly, now stroking her right armpit (she instantly realised she liked that), "except on porn sites I have never, ever seen a redhead who doesn't shave there. This is nothing less than a revelation to me, honestly. That's beautiful," he complimented her.

"You like that?" she asked, honestly surprised (but pleased and warmed by his appreciation of her).

"I love it," Kelly answered warmly. "I'm an earthy type. Not to spoil the mood, or to question your inalienable right to treat your body however you choose, but can I ask why you don't shave them?"

She was quite surprised by the question. Oh, she'd met a few men who at least didn't mind her not shaving (he's quite right, though, and good for him - if I want to leave my armpits unshaved I bloody well will, and any man who won't accept that can go fuck himself, never mind me!), but she'd rarely met one who liked it...and the only women who didn't seem to object were more on the butch/lesbian side for the most part, she thought ruefully. On the other hand, Emer O'Toole had had a few things to say about it in her book Girls Will Be Girls, not to mention a certain TV appearance she'd made three years prior to publishing...

Jennifer's living room, 48 Bannerman Road, South Croydon

23rd May, 2016 - Sophie's ninth birthday

Jennifer thought Ms. (or rather Doctor, given that she'd since gained a PhD) O'Toole had perhaps overdone it just a little, feminist liberation principles notwithstanding, though she applauded the woman's sheer bravery and obvious self-confidence, especially as Emer was only three years older than herself. But she was overjoyed at Sophie's reaction on seeing the YouTube clip: her daughter laughed delightedly and clapped her hands, exclaiming, "So you're really not the only one, Mum! Ooh, wait till I tell my friends!"

"You know, love," Jennifer pointed out, laughing herself, "it won't be too long before you'll be like that, once your puberty starts."

"Me?!" Sophie gasped in shock. They had discussed puberty issues, given Jennifer's strong suspicion that the girl would reach menarche very soon now (with a mother's intimate knowledge of her child, she'd noticed the last time she'd taken Sophie's gym clothes out of the laundry basket for washing that her daughter's scent had definitely changed to something other than that of a little girl), but it seemed that Sophie hadn't really grasped what 'puberty' meant for her personally...until now (which was understandable - she was only nine, after all). She immediately raised one arm and ducked her head, peering closely and stroking her armpit, but of course there wasn't the slightest sign of hair - yet.

"Don't worry, darling, you can always shave if you want to...provided it's your choice," Jennifer emphasised, "don't let your friends - or even your teachers - tell you that you 'should'. It's your body; it's your hair, Sophie. You decide, sweetheart." She then looked sternly at Sophie. "If anyone has a problem with that - and I've very little doubt that someone will -" she went on sourly, recalling Emer's misadventures, "just tell them to talk to me about it."

Ridgeway Primary School, Southcote Road, South Croydon

3:05 p.m., three weeks later

One teacher, who was a few years younger than Jennifer herself, was unwise enough to try to insist that Sophie shave, once she had indeed acquired a fair growth of armpit hair a few weeks later (and decided not to shave because her Mum didn't). To the utter lack of surprise of her fellow pupils, knowing her far better than the teacher did, Sophie flatly refused. She had somehow failed to inherit her mother's fiery temper, but if there was one stereotypical redhead attribute Sophie Jane Harrison possessed in abundance, it was stubbornness.

"But it's unladylike, dear," the young woman, a substitute teacher, essayed.

"My Mum doesn't shave there, and everyone says she's a lady," Sophie obstinately pointed out. "She is," she added proudly. She didn't finish with 'So there!' because Mum had taught her that that was childish, and just like most nine-year-olds Sophie was determined to be a big girl and make her Mum proud of her. After all, she was a big girl - she needed a bra now, and tampons, and only big girls and women needed them, so that proved it!

The teacher, one Anne Prescott, tried to explain about 'proper' grooming and the like. Sophie heard her out politely, just as Jennifer had taught her...and then told her quietly, "I think you need to talk to my Mum, Miss."

"I certainly shall," Miss Prescott declared primly. Two boys were whispering while this discussion was going on, and she was startled to see one handing a Mars Bar to the other - this was a surprise because he already had one. "Boys, what, precisely, are you doing, might I ask?"

"Placing a bet, Miss," Luke Ford told her innocently.

"A bet?" she puzzled. "That's hardly appropriate behaviour in class!" she scolded, not that the boys (or anyone else, for that matter) were all that impressed. "What are you 'betting' on?"

"On who's going to come out on top when you talk to Sophie's mum, Miss," Charlie Grant grinned impishly, to her mild annoyance; little boys in primary school had no business looking impish, she thought, especially not towards a teacher. "My Mars Bar's on Jennifer Harrison, sorry."

She doubted the wisdom of this, because Sophie was actually a very well-behaved little girl who didn't seem to have the fiery temper Anne knew was so typical of redheads, and so she expected the girl's mother to be much the same.

Of course, she couldn't have been more wrong...and she soon discovered that Charlie had unquestionably won the bet.

Once Jennifer arrived at the school to pick Sophie up, having received her phone call telling her Mum what had happened, she soundly pinned the teacher's ears back - with a number of her colleagues (some male) bearing stunned witness. "My daughter," she then told the near-tears young woman frostily, "will make her own grooming choices, thank you very bloody much!

"If Emer O'Toole can get 'em out on This Morning - on national television - and not be embarrassed in the least, and go on to earn a PhD, then my girl can follow suit, and I - will - be - damned," she cried, now furious, "if I'll allow any busybody who's fallen for the whole feminine beauty myth, and failed to see it for the utter crap that it is, to dictate to my daughter what she can or can't do with her body! How DARE you?! Who the hell do you think you ARE?!" she almost screamed.

"But, Ms. Harrison," Anne tried futilely and feebly to protest, "Sophie's only n -"

"Oh, don't give me that!" Jennifer snapped, fighting her intense urge to slap the uppity little bitch silly, but the sheer impudence of the girl - yes, girl, you clearly haven't yet earned the right to be called a woman - deeply offended her! She bloody well deserved a slap, damn her! "It doesn't matter that she's 'only nine', you patronising little cow; Sophie is perfectly capable of making such choices by herself, for herself!

"She already has, in fact! I didn't tell her, or even ask her, not to shave," she pointed out acerbically, "I left the matter entirely up to her, and she decided to leave 'em alone - and as her mother I fully support her in that! Hell, I'll support her equally fully if she does opt to shave at some point, provided that it's her choice, her preference, and not a 'choice' imposed on her by authority, society or peer pressure!

"As far as I'm concerned she is, in fact, the only person on this entire bloody planet who has any right, any at all, to make such decisions!" she declared with fierce vehemence. "Whether you like it or not, young madam," hell, whether I like it or not, she mused ironically, trying not to dwell on the fact that she was starting to sound like her Mum (or indeed her Gran), "however young she might be, the fact is that my Sophie Jane is fast becoming a woman now - and she is beautiful just as she is! She doesn't need you or anyone else undermining her self-image, especially not at such an impressionable age! I mean, dear God," she despaired, "anyone would think the whole feminist movement never happened! Where the hell have you been, girl?!"

"B - but everyone'll think she's a -"

"What, a lesbian? Oh, that's just a stupid stereotype - I know a few lezzies, I've fucked a few, and most of 'em shave except on the We Are Hairy website! Even if people do think that, she's too young to make lifestyle choices like that! Besides, who cares even if she is a lesbian?! She's still my daughter and I still love her to bits! That won't change whoever she sleeps with, man, woman or both! That's her choice! Sophie, darling, when you're a little older you can fuck boys or girls or even both, I really don't care as llong as you don't catch anything, whether a disease or a baby, all right?"

"Thanks, Mum," Sophie smiled.

Charlie witnessed all this and nudged Luke, grinning. "She's goin' down! I so won the bet - pay up, mate!"

Luke, also grinning and a good sport, readily obliged; Luke's mum, whom he'd told about the bet, laughed, fondly tousled his hair and advised him, "You should only bet on a sure thing, lad! Obviously Charlie knows that!"

Jennifer rounded off her vociferous socio-political statement by taking off her jacket, revealing her own hairy armpits, as she was wearing a sleeveless blouse; the only women not startled by this were the relatively few who knew Jennifer well. "I'm proud of my girl," she added, hugging and kissing a delighted Sophie. "She's reclaiming her body as the woman she's becoming, as she has every right to do!"

"And I'm proud of my Mum!" Sophie put in spiritedly, to Jennifer's further pride and delight. She again resisted (but later confessed to, much to Jennifer's amusement) the temptation to add 'So there!'

"Well said t' both o' yez!" Donna McGowan, the mother of Sophie's best friend Siobhán, called out merrily.

Jennifer was startled but pleased at the cheers they both got...many from the male teachers. She was even more startled to be asked out by one who was over six years her junior...and was so flattered she accepted, despite her resolution a year ago to get back on the horse and try dating older men, after getting over the heartache of Ursula Greenwood breaking up with her.

The date turned out to be fun (and not a breach of ethical guidelines because he wasn't one of Sophie's teachers). Mike Starke was attractive; quite liberated in that he liked her armpit hair, as she was astonished to learn; very emotionally mature for his age...and, she soon discovered to her delight (if lack of surprise), good in bed and horny as hell!

It later transpired that another teacher had tweeted about this incident, and Emer happened to read the tweet - and responded, Good for you both, Jennifer! Sophie - you go, girl! Grow it wild an' be proud, lass! Be the woman ye want to be!

As for Anne, she received a stern lecture from the Headmistress, who entirely agreed with Jennifer's view...and who'd also seen Emer O'Toole on TV - and cheered her on. Anne conceded that perhaps she wasn't quite suited for a teaching career, and quit shortly afterwards, changing career tracks...to become, ironically, a beautician. Unfortunately Jennifer's impassioned tirade had fallen on deaf ears.

Her pupils certainly didn't miss her, and cheered on the return of Brenda Wallis, their regular teacher, much to her delight; she'd taken a few weeks' sick leave following a mild but successful round of chemotherapy. She didn't try to tell Sophie to shave her armpits - far from it, in fact; she actually supported her. "Do you know what the word 'hypocrite' means, dear?" Brenda, a much older (and wiser) teacher than Anne, inquired.

"Um, I think so, Miss," Sophie replied politely, "I think it means someone who says one thing and does another."

"Very close, Sophie; well done," Brenda nodded. "The precise definition is 'a person who feigns some desirable or publicly approved attitude, especially one whose private life, opinions, or statements belie his or her public statements'. In this context - and I know you know what that means, you clever girl -" she added, pleased by Sophie's high standard of erudition (thanks mainly to the triumvirate of her Mum, Grandma and Nan, all of whom she knew personally and greatly respected), "I would be a hypocrite if I told you to shave your underarms...because," she confided, her voice dropping conspiratorially, "I don't!" She winked at Sophie, who giggled.

Neither of them had shaved their armpits since. In fact Sophie never even started - except for a brief period when she decided to look at the issue from the other side, i.e. electing to shave for a while after all. "Are you sure about this, love?" Jennifer asked her, a little worried in case her lessons weren't taking hold and Sophie was falling prey to the hype about which Emer had written so passionately. "Are you sure you're doing it for yourself?"

"Yes, Mum," Sophie quietly but firmly told her. "I want to see both sides of the argument, and I can't do that if I never shave, can I?"

Jennifer was very surprised by her daughter's logic, coming as it did from someone so young, but she could see it was impeccable. "No, that's a very good point, Sophie; I never thought of that," she had to admit. She impulsively hugged her daughter. "As if I'm not proud of you already, sweetheart...alright, you go for it, love, and the very best of British to you."

Sophie did just that, for two weeks, but then decided - by herself, and despite impassioned protests from some of her friends - that shaving simply wasn't worth all the hassle. "Besides, I prefer being hairy there, Mum," she pronounced. "I'm pretty sure I didn't smell as much when I didn't shave," she added, ducking her head and wrinkling her nose. "I think I need a shower. Anyway, I actually like the hair."

Jennifer hugged and kissed her daughter, proud of her beyond measure. "Good for you, sweetheart!" she praised. "Emer would be proud, and I know I am, darling!"

"Well...there are a few reasons, actually," Jennifer told Kelly now. She shivered, feeling the lust arise anew. He looked and smelled good, she thought. I am doing him, I can't wait any more! "But can we please table this until after I've fucked you?" she finished, her voice hoarse with sheer lust.

Kelly laughed appreciatively and helped her finish taking off her clothes, but as soon as he started sliding her knickers down and he caught the scent of her pussy, some sort of hormonal chain reaction kicked in - his arousal heightening hers and vice versa - and suddenly they couldn't keep their hands off each other (not that they wanted to, of course...). They were abruptly so frantic to get down to it that they never even made it to the bed before he was up her; they fell onto it already in coitus...

"Oh, that was terrific," Jennifer sighed contentedly an hour or so later, "thank you. I think that's the best sex I've had in ages, honestly." She kissed him warmly. "And I'm not saying that as an escort, Kelly; I really mean it. That was just delicious." She kissed his chest, taking pleasure in noting how relaxed he looked now. I was right; he really needed that.

Me too, if I'm honest with myself. Christ, I came like a bitch - and so did he! I'm right at the peak of my cycle, so if I hadn't got that implant, I'm sure I'd have become pregnant in the next few days!

"You're very welcome, Jennifer," he returned as warmly. "You're a terrific partner. That's my dry spell well and truly over, and I'm very glad of it." He placed his hands under her arms to gently pull her closer to him, but didn't release them. He was stroking her armpits again, as he had several times during their lovemaking. She drew the line at legs, though, she wasn't totally hirsute; she always shaved them, feeling they looked better that way.

"You really like that, don't you?" she sighed in sheer pleasure. He was so gentle...

"Mmm, yeah," he breathed. Ooh, now he was sniffing her. He really is the earthy type, she marvelled, that's great! She'd always adored lovers as earthy as she was; they tended to be just as dirty-minded as her, up for more fun than men (or women) who weren't. Stephanie, bless her lecherous, utterly shameless heart, had taught her that.

She'd regularly encouraged Jennifer to step outside her sexual and/or kinky comfort zone in their final year at their sixth form college, even to the extent of daring her to wet herself in class...which she had, but not until Stephanie had agreed to do the same for, um, moral support. Their form teacher, on realising the girls had done it deliberately (their innocent expressions giving it away), hadn't known where to look, the poor man; he was only a few years older than them, a mere 23 to their 18.

Stephanie had frequently gotten detention for her 'improper' or 'lewd' behaviour at secondary school (going braless without her blazer in winter; wearing and flashing frilly, sexy and see-through knickers or, once, none at all; frank discussions in class of her active sex life with Andy and Louise; and once on a dare she even took off her knickers in class, nearly giving her 62-year-old male maths teacher a heart attack), and never cared a jot as it was all in good fun - and her average grade was still A.

All attempts by her form teacher to appeal to her parents for some parental discipline failed owing to that single fact; her father Martin pointed out, "If she's getting such high marks, consistently, then she's clearly doing something right and you lot are clearly doing the job we taxpayers pay you to do! You're teaching; she's learning. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I had the general impression that that's the whole idea of school! Well, am I wrong, eh?!"

Her mother was even more laid-back about it; she shrugged and idly said, "Girls will be girls. She loves life, loves people and loves sex, and doesn't care who knows it, and why should she? You know she doesn't mean any harm by it, she's just showing joie de vivre. She'll grow up when she's good and ready; you can't force these things. Let her enjoy her childhood while she can."

"Very New Age philosophy, if not hippy," Stephanie's form teacher ventured weakly.

Anita Brand shrugged again. "Am I wrong?"

"What the hell are you supposed to do with an oversexed class clown when her average grade is still as high as any teacher might want?!" the form teacher frequently complained in despair to the Headmistress. "She messes about in class, and often drags Jennifer Jones into her escapades, yet their work's always impeccable and they blow away any tests we give them!" He often sighed and admitted, "It doesn't help that they're both gorgeous enough to make it as fashion models, and they damn well know it, too. God, if they weren't my students..."

She and Jennifer had had delicious sex with that same teacher on the last day of their exams, once his duty of care as a teacher was officially discharged and he could finally admit what Stephanie had known all along, viz. he'd fancied both of them rotten; the guy must've thought it was Christmas (not that his wife, a raven-haired beauty nearly as tall as Stephanie, particularly agreed...until Stephanie, shameless as ever, seduced her, too!).

Jennifer still missed her, and kept promising herself to look Stephanie up on Facebook. One of these days..."So would you like to return to the explanation for my hirsute state?" Jennifer quipped now, putting aside the memories.

He nodded, but corrected mildly, "You're not hirsute per se, Jennifer. That condition's defined as having hair where there ideally shouldn't be any, which of course isn't the case for armpits."

"Good point," she conceded. "I suppose I should mention that I've never shaved them regularly, though I do shave my legs, and I haven't shaved them at all since - oh, since May 2012, actually."

He chortled as he immediately grasped the significance of the date. "That wouldn't be May fourth, by any chance? Emer O'Toole on This Morning, singing 'Get Your Pits Out For The Lads' and showing a veritable jungle under each arm?"

Jennifer grinned. "You saw that, did you?"

"Saw it and loved it," Kelly grinned back. "I would totally do her; she's as pretty as she is smart."

"Me, too," Jennifer giggled, and gradually settled down, enjoying Kelly's gentle stroking of her armpits...and trying not to laugh at the thought that he was treating them rather like a cat! "Anyway...issues of feminism and choice aside, for one thing I tend to get a pretty bad rash when I shave my armpits - I think it's a skin thing. Plus I noticed several years ago that they don't seem to smell as much when I don't shave." She chuckled. "It also saves time and money, both of which have always been in short supply!"

Kelly too chuckled, still stroking her there. "Actually there are sound health reasons for not shaving, Jennifer. For one, you're right - it does cut down on odours, though I imagine you don't know why?"

She frowned. "I've never really thought about it too much. I suppose it's just one of those things."

"No," he corrected gently, "it's mainly the laws of physics." He chuckled again at her surprised look. "The hair increases the surface area of your armpits, which means sweat evaporates faster - too fast for bacteria to feed on it and exude the smelly waste products that are the cause of B.O. That's one of the reasons we even have hair there. Another is that it cuts down on chafing by acting as a buffer - that's why you get a rash, not the shaving per se. It's actually chafing, not shaving rash - the two areas of skin rub against each other whenever you move. Of course, stubble doesn't help."

"Oh," she returned, surprised again, but the explanation made sense. She did remember from science class that increasing a liquid's surface area increases the rate of evaporation.

("That's why a kitchen floor dries so quickly when you've mopped it," the teacher quipped.

Stephanie quipped back, "Ooh, a man who knows what a mop is! Now there's a rare thing!" and the entire class laughed)

"A third reason is that the faster evaporation helps cool the body better, especially in summer. Still a fourth," he sniffed her again with every indication of sincere enjoyment, "is that the hair helps capture natural scent and pheromones...which in turn help you attract a mate."

"Didn't I get you before you saw my armpit hair?" she teased.

Kelly laughed. "Touché," he conceded. "But it helps scent-wise. You smell terrific, Jennifer."

"Thank you," she smiled, feeling warm with the compliment - especially as she'd been so keen to get him into bed and firmly up her (and dear God, how good that felt when he bumped against her cervix!) that she hadn't taken the time to shower first as she normally would have. "So you're suggesting that the entire industry devoted to making women smell 'clean' is actually a waste of time and money, if not an outright con?" As I've long suspected.

"When it comes to shaving armpits, certainly," he agreed. "It wasn't that long ago that a woman who did shave would be looked at oddly, because that wasn't seen as natural - the view was that the hair was a clear sign that she was a woman, not a girl any more."

"So I take it you're against, what's the phrase, 'bald beavers', too?" she guessed.

"On redheads, definitely," he affirmed earnestly. "It's a beautiful hair colour and I've never understood all the anti-redhead prejudice, or why most redheads go the 'bald beaver' route. So do a lot of natural blondes, and that's just baffling," he told her, "given the whole issue of 'do the curtains match the carpet?'."

Jennifer had to laugh at that. "Oh, the number of men who've actually asked me that...!"

"Well, there is of course an easier way to tell, isn't there?"

"Look at her eyebrows," Jennifer agreed. "Of course, that's a boring way to do it," she giggled saucily. "Most men would rather find out by getting the woman's knickers off. In fact that's a lot of the reason why they're so keen to get her knickers off, isn't it?"

"True," he laughed with her. "The way you've shaved your pussy is a nice compromise, leaving your mons alone and shaving the labia - makes going down on you easier -" he grinned lecherously, "but the hair that's left still captures your scent - which is delicious, I might add."

She found herself impulsively confessing, "That's probably because I'm at the peak of my cycle, Kelly. I always smell stronger at this time of the month." Hmm, I wouldn't normally share that information with a man I've only just met...I must really like him, she quipped to herself.

I do like him, she realised suddenly. I like him a lot. Hmm...

"Most women do," he assured her. "It's something a real man can deal with," he added loftily, putting on airs and making her laugh as he'd intended. "It's way better than anything floral - and thankfully it doesn't look as if you use those 'feminine hygiene products'. Ooh, I hate those."

"Actually," she remembered, "I did use one once -"

"Ooh, bad idea," he immediately interrupted. "Made you smell worse down there, didn't it?"

"Oh, God, it made me stink," she admitted ruefully. "It was so bad I begged Mum to keep me off school. Oh, she had a terrible time explaining it to the deputy head," she smiled, "the moment she said 'feminine hygiene', the poor man got all flustered." Kelly chuckled wryly, readily picturing it. "So she had to tell the headmistress, who was good enough to pay us a personal visit. She was like that," Jennifer recalled fondly, "she always took a personal interest in pupils' problems, especially the girls. She was tactful enough to tell me 'It's really not that bad, dear, but if you're sure...' But she did agree with Mum that it might be a legitimate problem, and so I got a few days off school."

"You didn't exactly have a good time, though?" he understood, giving her a sympathetic look she much appreciated.

"God, no," she conceded, recalling the misery and embarrassment, and her Mum's futile but much appreciated efforts to make her feel better. "It was awful. It seemed to sort itself out after a few days, though - I discovered that washing with warm water, no soap at all, seemed to help...if anything, soap seemed to make it worse," she recalled, with a puzzled frown.

"No, that was exactly the right thing to do," he applauded her. "The vagina is pretty much self-maintaining and doesn't need any artificial help. But there's a very delicate acid-alkali balance, and if you upset it with soap - which is alkaline and basically all these 'products' really are, just scented soap solutions - you end up killing off benign bacteria and actually encourage the ones that produce B.O. The effect tends to be more pronounced in redheads and blondes. You should never get any soap of any kind in there - all you ever need, and only every now and again at that, is a mild wash with warm water." He stroked her armpits again. "Lesson learned, eh?"

"Too right," Jennifer exhaled. "I advised all my friends to steer clear of 'em. Besides, once I was okay I checked my own scent, and I preferred it to anything floral or whatever." She giggled. "So did the boys, as I later found out!"

"Good for you!" he told her.

"You know, it's so good to meet a man who knows these things, who's taken the time and trouble to learn them - and who isn't embarrassed to discuss them, either. It's such a nice change," she complimented him. It was now clear that Kelly was a man who knew women well - and loved them as they were...smells, hair and all. I think I'm getting really keen on this guy, she admitted to herself. "But I have to admit I'm still surprised you like the fact that I don't shave my armpits," she told him, and joked, "Are you sure that's not a fetish?"

She was teasing him, he knew, so he tickled her experimentally, and she giggled. "Gotcha," he pronounced with satisfaction. "No, it's not. If it were, I'd be unable to become aroused if you had shaved. In my case it's a preference, not a fetish - I don't mind in the least if a woman shaves, that's her choice," he told her gallantly, impressing her with his consideration, "I just like it when she doesn't."

"I see," Jennifer nodded. Mike was the same, she recalled fondly.

"For me it started years ago, with an issue of Mayfair." He noted carefully that she didn't bat an eyelid at his second mention of porn, and made a mental note to ask her what she thought about it. "There was this cute little natural blonde, 20, I think; in one shot she was taking off her blouse, like you were, showing off her lovely little bee-sting tits - and she hadn't shaved her armpits. That was the first I ever knew that women even had armpit hair, to be honest," he admitted sheepishly. "It made a hell of an impression."

She chuckled, charmed by his admitting to such naïveté. "How old were you?"

"Um...I can't remember," he confessed after a moment's thought, "I think about seventeen or so. But I was fascinated by her. Afterwards, I kept an eye open for other women like that." He looked rueful. "I didn't find many. In fact, I've only ever seen porn blondes who didn't shave their armpits, and as I said I've never actually met or even seen a redhead who didn't...until now, to my immense delight," he purred, stroking her again. In fact, to her surprise and pleasure, he actually licked her.

Ooh, he means it. He likes the way I smell - and taste. Well, well, Stephanie, you sweet dirty-minded kinky darling, looks like you were right after all. Who knew? Oh, God - oh, I've never had a man do that before, and hey, it's turning me on...!

It wasn't long before they were off again...and again...