The Cubbyhole

That evening, 8 p.m. EST

"Hi," Ginny said to the bartender when she went up to the bar. She looked pretty and friendly.

The bartender smiled warmly. "New face. Pretty one, too. What can I get you?"

"Just a cherry soda, I'm only 17," Ginny confided. "Plus...some advice."

The woman looked her over. "Baby dyke?" she asked gently.

Despite herself, Ginny blushed. "Uh, yeah."

"Written all over you, honey. You're me, as of two years ago." She handed Ginny the soda. "Club rule: first one's on the house, alcoholic or not. You are absolutely not the first baby dyke we've looked after, and you will not be the last. Two years' time, you might be saying hi to a nervous baby dyke and showing her around. Which I will," she smiled. "All part of the service. Name's Luce, or Lucy, short for Lucinda." She looked wry. "Pretentious parents. What can you do? But my girlfriend likes it, so I won't change it."

"Ginny," they shook hands, "short for, uh, Virginia." She paused. "No, that's a lie, I'm sorry...short for Ginevra."

"Wingardium Leviosa!" the older girl quipped. "Sorry, couldn't resist. Bet you've been asked all kindsa crap as to where Ron's Pygmy Puff tattoo is, huh?"

Ginny laughed, finding Lucy easy to talk to.

Then a blonde woman came to the bar who would not be easy for her to talk to. "Double JD on rocks," she requested in an almost mannish voice. Ginny looked up...and up. God, she was tall. She noticed Ginny. "Ooh, is pretty girl," she enthused in a Russian accent, "das vidanya, you've pulled. Get your coat." She took Ginny's arm with an attitude that suggested that resistance was useless. As yet, Ginny didn't even know what she was resisting.

She was scared. She knew that much.

But the huge, clearly butch lesbian was halted by a gentle but firm hand on her arm. "Leave her alone, Ursula," the newcomer instructed. "Poor kid's got ‛baby dyke' written all over her. You're too full-on for a newbie like her." Her voice turned firm. "Let her go."

"Or what?" Ursula demanded belligerently.

The newcomer sighed. "Or this." She hit Ursula.

This blow had a remarkable effect. Ursula had some 20 centimetres and at least 15 kilos on the hitter. Yet she was bowled over.

A fight (oddly not vicious or all-out) quickly developed. Ginny looked worried, but Lucy chuckled. "Don't worry, not your fault. Ursula, the big blonde bitch, is a biker babe from Vladivostok. Real rough type, you know? She likes breakin' in newbies...breakin' 'em, sometimes. The brunette is Lara, from Boston - she might be shorter and lighter, but she's got a punch that don't quit, and she's got such mad judo skills she can tie Ursula into a knot...and Ursula knows it."

"Then...why are they fighting?"

"Truth?" Ginny nodded. Lucy sighed. "Ursula loves to fight. Big fan of cage fights, screams for blood. Goes wild if she sees it."

Ginny looked on, with a degree of horrified fascination. "Are...are they fighting over me?" Lucy chuckled and nodded. "Two women fighting over me. That is...strangely flattering."

Lucy laughed. "Welcome to the Cubbyhole!"

Before long Lara had Ursula in a complex lock. "Say sorry to the newbie or I break your arm. You know I can."

"Da," Ursula conceded sullenly. "Is apology. Is no offence meant." Her English was uncertain, but her meaning was clear.

She tried to get up, but Lara squeezed tighter. "Now, now. The kid has to accept your apology. You're going nowhere until she does."

"But I would like to buy drink."

"Fair enough," Lara allowed. "But she still hasn't accepted." She looked up at Ginny and smiled pleasantly. "I can do this all night, honey, but I have a Sex On The Beach that needs drinking. So...?"

"Um, apology accepted," Ginny managed.

Lara relaxed. "There. See how nice it is when we all get along?"

Ursula stood, accepted her JD, downed it in one, told Ginny, "You are pretty. Look me up," and left.

The compact brunette also stood up. "Word of advice, newbie: don't do it. Ursula would eat you alive, trust me. Oh, you'd enjoy it at the time, but you'd never be the same again. The last thing the world needs right now is an Ursula acolyte. Now how's about I buy you a drink? JD? Gin? Vodka? Archer's, with or without lemon?"

"She's under 21, Lara," Lucy put in.

"Aw," Lara understood, looking much more gentle now. "A real baby dyke. Okay," she offered, "how 'bout a refill when you're done with that one?"

Uncertain, Ginny confessed, "I...I don't even know if I am a lesbian yet. I...don't know what to do..."

"Starting right from the beginning, then," Lara nodded. "You came here to find out?"

"Yeah. My neighbour suggested this place."

Lara nodded again. "Yeah, Luce was just the same. Lost, scared, still wondering if boys or girls did it for her...and she met Ursula on her first night, too." She grinned, and Ginny couldn't help liking her. "An' I dealt with her the same way! History repeatin' itself, or what?"

All three laughed, and Ginny began to relax.

"Yeah, that's the ticket," Lara encouraged her on seeing this, "it's all your own choice, honey. That's being a lesbian. Or a bi."

"A what? Sorry, I don't know anything."

Lara sipped her drink. "And that, babe, is the last thing you should worry about. We have girls here who show newbies the ropes, ease them into it - or out of it, if they decide they like guys after all. A bi is a bisexual - someone who doesn't give a fuck if she's with a guy or a gal." She grinned. "Or, in Hannah's case," she indicated a tallish blonde near the door, "both!"

"How does that work?"

"Usually, two girls in a 69 - that means each girl's mouth to the other's cunt - and the guy fuckin' whoever's on top from behind. Or it can be all oral: guy and girl licking each other, second girl licking both. Or he takes turns." She shrugged. "Best of both worlds, they say. Me, I exclusively like girls. Doesn't make them, or me, weird. Takes all kinds." She finished her drink. "Mmm, I love Sex On The Beach. And sex on the beach," she quipped, and Ginny laughed. "Same again, Luce," she called.

"Sure thing."

Lara looked at Ginny. "Listen, have you heard that lezzies turn lezzie 'cause they can't find a good man?"

"Uh, yeah."

But Lara shook her head. "Stereotype, a.k.a. utter bullshit. Trust me, in 99.9% of cases it's way more complex than that. We all have our stories. For instance:

"Fran," she waved to a willowy blonde, "took up lesbian sex purely on a drunken bet and found she liked it more than hetero sex.

"Hannah? She likes to experiment. Her lezzie lover tries to get her to admit to being a lezzie, but she won't commit, 'cause she likes cock too much. Up to her, of course.

"Yvette," a petite raven, "went on a blind date with Ray - she thought it was short for ‛Raymond', but it was short for ‛Rachel'." Ginny laughed. "Neither of 'em knew until they actually met. They laughed about it, got to talkin', realised they got on like a house on fire - screams, flames, folks runnin' for safety -" she grinned to let Ginny know she was kidding, "and they've been married eight years now. Talkin' 'bout havin' a kid."

Ginny was fascinated. "How? Don't you need a guy?"

"Yes and no - you need a guy to be a sperm donor. Or occasionally you'll find a lesbian who has the guts to go the ‛normal' route and fuck a guy, get pregnant that way. Moving on...

"Dolly, that freckled little blonde over there, was curious, even more than the six cats she had. Now she has a live-in lesbian lover...and ten cats. Plus a talkative parrot - I say ‛talkative', he actually won't shut up! - a tarantula and a sugar glider.

"Evony - yeah, like in Lost Girl - wavers between lezzie, bi, hetero and neuter, i.e. none at all," she concluded.

"What's your story?" Ginny asked shrewdly.

Spluttering slightly, Lara laughed. "Oh, I'm the 0.1! Picture this: I'm having what I think, 'cause I'm so naïve I don't know any better, is a good time with my male lover. Tall, dark, handsome, you know the drill. He, meanwhile, is telling his friends I'm useless in bed, when I honestly was trying my best. I mean, God, I was only 17, your age. Angry and hurt, I dump the bastard.

"Only to be nearly raped - in front of a fuckin' audience! - by my next guy. I got lucky there; a couple of militant lezzies saw what was goin' down and helped me. That was when I started wondering about girls.

"Then to be wooed by a guy who has it all - looks, a condo, a Ferrari - but his looks are all faked up, the condo belongs to his great-aunt, who he has not told about me, and the car's rented from some dive that caters to the pricks who do this shit!" She sipped her drink. "So I am gone, girlfriend!

"So one night, alone, starting on a bottle of gin with just my cat for company and wondering what the fuck was wrong with me, I have this lightbulb moment: it wasn't me. It wasn't me at all. I am beautiful, sexy, I have a trust fund from my late uncle, as I was always his favourite niece, and I am smart, to boot - I have a perfect 4.0 GPA and egregia cum laude, not just summa, from UCLA!

"So I stand up, I look at myself naked in the mirror, I decide I'm gorgeous, and I wonder if any other woman shares that opinion. So I walk into the Cubbyhole, already drunk - as it sorta says in the song, I was barely 17 an' I was barely dressed - ask loudly, ‛Who's gonna fuck me if guys won't?', turn down a young Ursula 'cause I don't have the hots for her, nearly break her arm when the bitch won't take no for an answer, an' the next thing I know, four different, gorgeous lesbians are makin' me an offer!"

"Which one got you?" Ginny asked, feeling she knew the answer already.

Sure enough, Lara laughed harder and replied merrily, "All fuckin' four of 'em!"

After a time and another drink, they calmed down. More soberly Lara told her, "Yeah, they were all different...but all gentle with me. They all knew I was a baby dyke and they all knew I was emotionally fragile from being screwed around. Literally." She sighed. "It was so different. So loving. So rewarding. They were so gentle and patient with me, they knew I didn't know, then, what to do. So they showed me, the darlings. I'd never been so happy in my entire life. I'd never felt so loved. I'd never given so much sexually. Never dared take so much. They gave, 'cause they wanted to.

"One of 'em, Gwyneth - she's from Wales originally, her folks came to NY when she was three - helped me set up a perfume and body wash business. It's gone from strength to strength - not Givenchy, not Chanel, but we have our place and we're gettin' there, y'know? I hesitate to say I love her, but," she looked fierce now, "I would fight Ultron, Doc Ock, Thanos an' fuckin' Galactus with my bare hands if she needed me to. MCU fan, before you ask. I loved Infinity War and Endgame, and I adored Captain Marvel, Okoye an' the Black Widow.

"I would lie, steal, cheat, prostitute myself - yeah, even with guys! - kill, even die for Gwyneth. She needs a new heart, an' I'm the only possible donor? I'd do a Marcus Wright to her John Connor and fuckin' well donate it. If Gwyneth ever needs it, she gets every last drop of my blood, no question. I don't know if that's love, Ginny, I truly don't. But if it isn't, I am utterly fucked if I know what is."

In tears, moved beyond words, Ginny whispered, "That is so beautiful..."

"Aw, hey, honey, I didn't mean to upset you," she told Ginny gently.

"No, I'm not upset," Ginny sobbed, "you're so happy with your girlfriend, and I'm so happy for you..."

"Thank you," Lara murmured. They hugged. Then Ginny tried, tentatively, to kiss her.

Her smile turned sad. "Sweetheart, even if I weren't spoken for, I'm not the right gal for you. Even to show you the ropes."

"But -"

"Ever hear Summer (The First Time)?" she asked quietly. "Yeah, just 'cause guys don't do it for me doesn't mean they can't do good songs. I'm 27, Ginny, older than I look. Songs are one thing, but breakin' the law is another, an' you're under 21. Yeah, I'd break any law for Gwyneth, but...well. Trust me, it wouldn't work. Either I'm too old for you, or you're too young for me. Not," she added tactfully, "that I don't think it'd be great, but...no."

"Age of consent is just a guideline," Ginny stated.

Lara smiled wryly. "Tell that to the Unit."

"The Unit...hey, my neighbour Jocelyn works for the Unit," Ginny piped up.

"Jocelyn? Hey, that isn't Jocelyn Barton, by any chance?"

"Yes!" Ginny laughed. "She sent me here!"

"Aw, she's great, even if she is a closet sadist. She was so wise to send you here. Speaking of, we have a group of young lezzies who know what it's all about, and they ll happily teach you - they'll welcome a new face. Hey, Fiona," she called, "got a new baby dyke for you!"

Ginny was startled to see who she was addressing: a raven-haired beauty who had the features of a china doll...and was incredibly tall, some 220cm - in flat heels. She was slender but not thin, her figure in proportion despite her awesome height - her torso was long, but so were her legs. She was displaying most of her beautiful breasts, but didn't seem self-conscious. "Hey there," she smiled, and her voice was deep and sexy. Next to her, Ginny felt diminutive.

"You're...tall," she managed.

Fiona shrugged. "Yeah, I have gigantism. I was six-one at age nine, and it got worse until the docs found the right hormone balance to shut the growing the fuck down. Makes clothes shopping hell, lemme tell ya," she grinned, "thank God for Long Tall Sally! Even there they say ‛God, girl, you are tall!' I say ‛No shit, Sherlock!' or ‛Might have somethin' to do with this height thing I got goin' on'. Seriously, though, they're good people, they know what they're doin'."

"I worked part-time at a fashion house once, for a month, till my family moved," Ginny contributed. "So I know how hard it is to make tall girls look good." Then she decided to be bold. "They certainly got it right with you."

Charmed, Fiona slowly smiled. "Why, thank you. Hey, Luce," she requested, "slip a little shot o' somethin' into her soda, huh?"

"She's only 17," Lucy warned.

Fiona took out a 20. "This once, hon. I won't tell if you won't - either of you," she added to Ginny. "Keep the change, Luce."

"This once," Lucy conceded, and added a shot of Archer's. Ginny sipped; the contrast between cherry soda and peach schnapps was delightful.

"I could get used to this," she decided, liking it.

The slightly older girl - Fiona was just 21 - smiled slowly again, starting a tingle in Ginny's navel. "I have a bottle of cherry soda at home...and another of Archer's," she offered, her bright blue eyes giving out a subtle but clear message. "Wanna get used to it? Or," she shrugged, self-deprecating, "am I too tall for you?"

"Fiona, I'm sorry about that," Ginny apologised sincerely. "I honestly didn't mean anything by it. It's just that the tallest guy I've ever seen was my cousin Oscar, and he's ‛only' six-five."

"Apology accepted, hon. Sometimes I get too sensitive about my height. I know I'm a real long drink o' water." The gentle smile returned. "No pressure. Promise. I'll go at your pace. We'll back off if you're not ready, or scared."

Ginny climbed up onto the bar. Lucy frowned at first, until she realised why: the extra height allowed her to kiss Fiona.

As they gently broke the kiss, Fiona breathed, "Not bad for a baby dyke, not bad at all. You like pizza?"

"Love it," Ginny grinned.

"We'll get a pie on the way to mine," Fiona decided.

"Okay. Thanks for the advice, Lucy," Ginny smiled. "You too, Lara."

"Take care, you two," Lucy wished them pleasantly.

"Good luck, Ginny," Lara smiled. "Good fucking, girls!"

They left. Tino happily supplied a ham & pineapple pizza with several toppings and all the trimmings.

Over the next several hours Fiona and Ginny devoured it...and each other.

Fiona's bedroom

The next morning

Ginny stretched, lost in the scented folds of Fiona's bed. That had definitely been an interesting night.

Next to her, a very tall, warm bundle moved and murmured contentedly. With a rush of affection, Ginny kissed her, but Fiona was a sound sleeper and did not awaken.

For a tall girl she was so gentle, Ginny thought, revelling in her first lesbian experience. True to her word, Fiona had seduced and wowed her slowly, making sure Ginny was comfortable with what she was doing. Their strip and consumption of the pizza - and several shots of Archer's with cherry soda - was gradual, and Fiona was naked first.

So that was what lesbian sex was all about.

Ginny shivered in sheer pleasure. She was coated in sweat, and didn't care. She'd earned it in making love with Fiona. It'd been awkward at first; with Fiona being so much taller than her, they'd had to work at a mutual arrangement that suited them both. Then they'd got it, and Fiona had gently enjoyed her naked, quivering body. Fiona had reassured her that nerves were normal, and she'd felt so safe.

Ginny, enraptured, had been eager to taste Fiona's body, her sweat, her exquisite sex juices. Their orgasm had been mutual and powerful.

Not like the sex with Tony Abbott, when he popped her cherry - he'd come in about thirty seconds, leaving her high and (literally) dry, wondering: What the fuck?!

She hadn't had much experience, but she was sure that she was supposed to enjoy sex, too. That was the start of her uncertainty re men. Even that first, upsetting night, she wondered: Would it be better with a woman?

Ginny remembered Fiona again. Ooh, that was way better, because it was mutual - Fiona wasn't selfish at all.

Jocelyn had been right to suggest the Cubbyhole, she knew. Happily she snuggled under the covers to kiss and caress Fiona's nipple, hoping to awaken or arouse her.

She did both. Fiona awoke to find a cute little sprite sucking on her nipple, and she liked it. Lovely way to wake up, she thought. "Morning, sexy," she purred. Ginny took her lips away from the delectable nipple, to find Fiona's even more luscious lips; they kissed deeply, their tongues caressing. Fiona was very gently fondling Ginny's breasts.

"Mmm," the younger girl sighed in pleasure, "you certainly know how to treat a girl."

"And you," Fiona smiled, "for a newbie you picked up lezzie sex in nothing flat. You were really looking for it."

"I was," Ginny realised. "I just didn't know it till now."

Fiona stroked her cheek. "Let me guess: your first time with a guy, he just fucked you, came quick and left you totally unsatisfied. Yeah?"

"Exactly right," Ginny marvelled. Then she realised that Fiona had spoken with the voice of experience. "You, too?"

"Ohh, yeah. All this build-up, him assuring me it'd be the best, and yeah, it was - for him, the selfish...no, I was gonna say ‛twat', but that's insulting to the beautiful sexy organ we share," she shook her head. "He was a selfish - no, ‛cunt' isn't right, either. Funny how all these disparaging words are about female bits, but the men use 'em about each other. A selfish bastard, then. I was 17, didn't know fuck all, an' I was 206cm tall.

"Yeah, he came, I didn't, and I was left thinking: Wait, is that it? All that build-up for, what, thirty seconds of his pleasure? What do I get out of it?" She sighed. "Of course, I now realise the problem with guys of that age: little to no experience. They don't know what goes where, don't know a girl needs foreplay to get her in the mood, don't know how to get her wet, don't even know where her clit is or what to do with it, or why...y'know, I wonder how they ever learn. If they do."

"There have to be some good guys out there," Ginny said plaintively.

Fiona nodded. "Oh, there are - few and far between, and by the time you find 'em you're involved with another girl, but yeah. They do exist. Rare, yeah, but unlike militant lezzies who're always slaggin' men off, I know they're out there. They're not all bad, honey."

"Please, go on."

"I had a better time with an older guy, I did at least get a bit wet, but then I was thinking: Why not do it with someone who really knows a woman's body? And who knows better than another woman?"

"So you tried lesbian sex," Ginny nodded, fondling Fiona's full, shapely breast. Hugely tall she might be, but there was nothing thin about her at all. "Was it good?"

"Better," Fiona nodded, and sighed again. "But I still didn't come. Turns out girls your age have no more clue than guys do - even with each other. They should know their own bodies, and therefore another girl's body, but a lot of 'em don't. The answer, it turned out, was Jocelyn. She was older, and way more experienced. Ooh, she knew what she was doing! Then again she's a medical doctor, so she should know her way around a woman's body!"

Ginny chuckled. "How come I keep hearing Jocelyn Barton's name?"

Fiona looked surprised. "She's a big name in the NY lezzie community. You know her?"

"Not well, but yeah - she's my neighbour."

"Ooh," Fiona giggled, the pleasant sound somehow making her seem smaller, "six degrees of separation or what?" They laughed together, then Fiona noticed her own scent. "Oh, I'm coated in sweat, I need a shower."

Inexperienced as she was, Ginny suddenly knew what to do. She held Fiona's gaze - God, her eyes were so blue - and told her frankly, "You smell delicious to me."

Touched, Fiona kissed her. "Aw, thanks, cutie. You are so kind. But honestly, I stink."

"You do not. You smell like a woman." Ginny kissed her again. "You are. Thank you so much for last night. Loved the pizza, loved the booze, which I could definitely get used to but I shouldn't seeing as I'm only 17, and," she purred now, "I absolutely loved the sex. Your cunt is delicious. I want more." She dived for it. Fiona squealed in delight as Ginny's lips made gentle contact with her intimate ones, and her tongue slid slowly between them.

It was an hour before Fiona got her shower, and she wasn't alone.

"Think I've created a monster," she giggled.

Feeling oddly assertive, considering that Fiona towered over her, she answered, "You did. Shut up and lick my cunt."

"Ooh, bossy," the older girl teased, "I like it."

"Shut up and lick."

Giggling, she knelt and did so. Ginny's cries of pleasure were loud.

Outside, Blood Fire heard them. Let them enjoy their pleasure. For soon, he thought, caressing his lethal blades, one would die!

"I have a confession to make," Fiona told her as they lounged on the couch, indulging themselves with coffee, toast and waffles, all of which they'd had sexy fun preparing. "Very often tall, imposing people like me - especially women - are seen as domineering and aggressive. Truth is...I hate fighting. I shy away from fights, I always have. Tall = aggressive - stereotype or what? But I'm like Thandi Palane.*

"Who?" Ginny puzzled, biting into a heavenly waffle.

"She's a character in David Weber's Honor Harrington novels," Fiona explained, sipping her coffee. "An ex-Marine. She's very tall, a combat expert, and very strong...and she has a submissive streak a mile wide. She and her lover, Victor Cachat - he's from a world called Haven, settled mostly by French types - often play BDSM games. He chains her up, that sort of thing."

"BDSM...I've heard of that," Ginny recalled, "that's Fifty Shades Of Grey stuff, isn't it?"

Fiona looked stern - difficult on a china-doll face like hers. "Bite your capable tongue. E.L. James did irreparable harm to BDSM with that crap. So many clichés that just aren't true. It stands for Bondage, Domination, Sadism and Masochism. But there's much, much more to it. BDSM relationships can be the most loving, because the dom really cares about the sub. Even while the dom is whacking the sub, there's always that element of control, of restraint. They go as far as the sub wants to go.

"That's the key to it - the most important aspect is not the pain. BDSM partnerships often involve pain, yeah, but the most important part is consent. The sub wants to be beaten. The dom likes to beat the sub, because the sub enjoys it. But the sub can get out of it at any time - she just has to use the safeword they've agreed on.

"Usually if the sub says ‛amber', the dom pauses. For an inexperienced sub it's a chance to catch her breath, or decide if she wants to do this at all. But if she says ‛red', that means a good dom will down tools there and then, release the sub, give her a hug if she seems to need it. She uses the safeword if she gets scared, or isn't in the mood.

"Occasionally, though, you get a dom who doesn't want to stop." Fiona put her coffee down, looking grave, and placed both hands on Ginny's bare shoulders; both women were still naked. "Honey, if you do...get out as soon as you can. A dom who doesn't respect safewords is a dom who doesn't respect the sub. That's what separates BDSM from abuse: consent. Just like regular sex, the sub can decide at any time that she doesn't want to know.

"Getting out ASAP is the only thing that'll save you from abuse at the hands of an abusive dom. We've all heard the tales of someone who gets out of her depth, doesn't get out when she should and gets hurt, injured, even killed. Sometimes, too often, it's true.

"So you get out. You do not, ever, go back. You warn the BDSM community: DO NOT TRUST THIS DOM WHO DOESN'T RESPECT SAFEWORDS. YOU ARE NOT SAFE WITH THIS DOM. AVOID AT ALL COSTS. And they will. They keep each other safe. Three keywords: Safe, Sane, Consensual. If your BDSM thing lacks any one of these, then get the fuck out."

Hushed, Ginny breathed, "Wow. I never knew. Are all BDSM relationships between women?"

Lightening up now, Fiona chuckled. "Another stereotype. No, they're not, any more than all lezzie relationships are BDSM in nature. No, either party - dom or sub - can be either gender. I'm not sure which gender subs usually are, I guess they're female." She looked small and meek. "I am a classic, textbook sub, like Thandi. I love being dominated."

"But," Ginny understood, "the sub is in control. The dom might say what's gonna happen, but the sub decides if it will."

"Yes!" Fiona clapped her hands. "Exactly! If, say, you wanted to slap me, I decide where, and how much it hurts." She paused. "I would like you to spank me. I would like that a lot. I promise not to scream too loudly."

"Okay," Ginny smiled, then remembered to ask: "Safewords?"

Fiona kissed her. "Ooh, it's very kind of you to ask. I say ‛amber', you pause for a bit, let me catch my breath. I say ‛red', we stop. I say anything else..." she leered, "either ignore me or enjoy my cries of pain. I have a feeling there's a dom in you just cryin' to get out."

"But I'm so much shorter than you," Ginny pointed out.

A shrug. "So what? A short girl can be dominant and aggressive if she wants to be. I know it seems that a tall one like me should be dominant, but that's just not me." She stood, and arranged herself so she was lying over Ginny's lap. "This is OTK, Over The Knee." She licked her lips. "Spank me, Mistress. On my bare ass. Make it pink."

Smiling, Ginny did just that.

When Fiona finally cried "Red!" - and came - her broad but not too broad bottom was glowing pink. Ginny caressed the warm ass under her fingers.

"Ohh, that felt sooooo good," Fiona murmured. Then, when Ginny didn't reply, she took advantage of her long arms to lever herself upright. "Are you okay?" She saw Ginny's troubled face, and intuited the problem. She sighed. "It's not for you, is it? Sweetheart, you should have said."

A little upset, Ginny protested, "But you liked it so much."

Tenderly Fiona kissed her. "Yes, I did. I came. Thank you for that, darling. I did enjoy it, yes. But the kicker is that you didn't enjoy it. BDSM has to be fun for both partners, or it's no fun at all. I want to pleasure you, Ginny. Tell me what you like. If you know," it occurred to her, "since you're a newbie."

"I...I don't know," Ginny managed.

Soothingly Fiona kissed her again. "That's okay. This is only day one. I can't and don't expect you to know the whole BDSM scene. Hey, I have an idea," she brightened, "I have some stuff you can read, it's called Taboo - it is the BDSM mag. Technically you're too young to read it." She looked impish; it was a mystery as to how a woman 220cm tall could pull that off, youthful face notwithstanding, but she did. "I won't tell if you won't."

"I won't," Ginny agreed, "I don't want hassle from my neighbour's Unit." She tried to look stern. "I command you not to tell."

Fiona giggled. "Maybe I was wrong. You look silly trying to be domineering. But, since I am a sub..." she put a finger to her lip, knelt and looked about three years old, "I will obey, Mistress. Please slap my face."

"Are you sure?"

"Please."

Ginny slapped her lightly.

"I like it. But harder, please."

"You're telling me what to do," Ginny pointed out.

"Yes, I am. Please. Hit me harder."

Uncertainly Ginny did so. Fiona sighed with pleasure. "One more time? Harder?"

"I thought you said I should enjoy it?"

"I did," Fiona nodded, "and that shows you to be a caring, considerate person who listens to her partner. Full marks, darling, if we're keeping score. But...please? I promise afterward we'll do something you like. Then again, I am about to break a minor law. I'm a bad girl. I should be punished. Please slap me hard. Please."

Recalling the old joke about a masochist who pleads, "Hurt me," and the sadist says "No", Ginny quipped, "What it I say no?"

But Fiona had heard it, too. "It's an old joke. Ginny, please hit me. Please."

Young as she was, Ginny was too much of a woman to refuse a plea. She slapped Fiona hard, raising a red mark on her cheek.

Fiona writhed with sensual pleasure. "Ohhh, thank you, Mistress. What would you like me to do?"

"Well..." Then it came to her. "I'm not too sure about masturbation. Bring yourself off. Show me what to do."

Fiona giggled and caressed her own breasts. "Now that idea I'm on board with. I love exhibiting myself. Last year I did it at the Cubbyhole. The girls who watched loved it. So did I."

"Shut up and wank," Ginny ordered.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Don't call me that."

"Mistress Ginny?" Fiona teased.

Knowing it was the right thing to do, Ginny slapped her hard again, and Fiona cried out in pleasure and pain. "Just Ginny. Wank for me."

Taking her time, Fiona obeyed, showing Ginny at every stage exactly what she was doing. Impulsively Ginny imitated her.

Their final orgasm was mutual, and Ginny tried to get into a 69 with her, both girls giggling helplessly as Fiona's considerable height defeated them at first. Then Fiona found she could curl inwards to meet Ginny lying straight. Each girl's mouth found and licked the other's cunt.

Again, their orgasm was mutual.

They spent the next hour or so going over Taboo, and Ginny was fascinated. "Look at her, she has studs through her nipples!"

"Been thinking of doing that myself," Fiona nodded.

"I haven't even known you a full day yet," Ginny doubted, "so I can't ask you to do that for me. A nipple piercing is no joke."

Fiona looked sober. "True. But it feels as if we've known each other forever, doesn't it?" She gazed with solemnity into Ginny's green eyes. "I would like to do that for you. I know a good, cheap tattoo artist. Katy isn't a lesbian, but I trust her. I know girls who got nipple or even clit piercings, and they say she's a pro. Should I get my nipples pierced?"

Excited and aroused by the idea, Ginny answered, "Only if I get to watch."

Fiona looked delighted. "Oh, I was hoping you'd say that! Studs or rings?"

"For variety, how about one of each?" Ginny suggested.

The woman squealed in delight, and Ginny took great pleasure in kissing her again.

And yet again they made love. This time each woman went down on the other in turn. "I prefer this," Ginny moaned in pleasure, "a 69's too awkward with me being so short."

Fiona appreciated Ginny phrasing it that way and not ‛with you being so tall'. Her tongue was unusually long; she used it to maximum effect on Ginny's cunt. The younger girl cried out in pleasure as her orgasm exploded through her body. Then she looked startled. "Did I -? What was that?"

The Amazon smiled and kissed her labia. "You squirted, sweetheart. Girls do that sometimes. No-one's sure if it's pee or sex juices. The Swedes do sex research all the time, and even they don't know." She grinned. "And no-one really cares, they just love it!"

Ginny too grinned and eagerly returned the favour. Fiona also squirted, and Ginny loved it.

Later she met Jocelyn on their landing again. Jocelyn grinned. "Looking at you, Ginny, you look like the cat that got the canary, the cream and the tuna."

"The cream, at least," Ginny returned saucily, shivering with the delightful memories of what she and Fiona had done together. She'd asked Fiona what the white secretions were - licking them all the while and loving the taste - and was thrilled at the thought that she'd caused Fiona's sex cream to flow. Her own started not long after, and Fiona delighted in licking it and her sex juices.

Jocelyn's smile turned gentle. "I take it my suggestion went down well."

"I went to the Cubbyhole," Ginny nodded.

Remembering her own experiences, Jocelyn asked, "Did you meet Ursula?"

"Yeah," Ginny smiled, "but I met Lara, too, and she put Ursula in her place."

"That's almost her job," Jocelyn grinned again, and sobered. "But you and Lara aren't matched age-wise. Did you meet someone younger?"

Ginny sighed fondly. "Fiona. She's so tall, and so lovely. All over."

"Mmm, I remember her," Jocelyn recalled. What she most remembered was her beating Fiona and the latter bleeding, crying - and begging for more. Yet she could and did make love with such tenderness. A classic sub, even more than Candy was. Yes, she decided, those two would have fun together. "So are you happy with lesbian sex?"

Ginny hugged her. "It was so good! Thank you so much!" She kissed Jocelyn. It wasn't quite French, but very close.

Ever-randy, the thought flitted through Jocelyn's mind: Well, we are neighbours...could we be FWBs? No, she's too young.

It'd be fun, though...no. Be fair. She's with Fiona now.

"If neither of us were spoken for I might risk doing you," Jocelyn told her. "The age thing doesn't bother me, and I'm hardly geriatric. Candy wouldn't mind, but...I think Fiona would."

"Yeah, it'd be cheating on her, and I only met her last night. Rain check?"

"Okay," Jocelyn nodded, then looked serious. "You look a lot happier. I'm glad."

As seriously, Ginny answered, "Thank you. It was terrific. I might invite her over soon." She giggled. "If she can fit through the door, and if she doesn't bump her head on the ceiling!"

Both laughed.

Early the next morning, Alice was walking home again, and again she was remembering her dear friends.

Lost in fond memory (and wondering mischievously what Mom would make of the idea of spanking for pleasure, as she accidentally found out one night that Rhiannon enjoyed it), Alice again heard the sound through her keen hearing, but didn't recognise it at first. It was not unlike castanets. She stopped, frowning, but saw nothing except a peculiar shimmer in the trees. It was especially hot tonight, so she was just about to dismiss it as a mirage caused by the heat.

Then the shimmer dropped to the ground - and looked man-shaped.

With horror, she recognised it.

She'd seen it before...back in '27, when Commander McAllister had taken on and killed the creature behind the stealth shield. Back then she'd been a rookie who'd transferred from the NYPD to the Unit; her skills in IT and observation had proven to be transferable. Like everyone else in the Unit, she'd been sworn to secrecy; the world wasn't ready to know about the Predators yet.

Those same observational skills were serving her well now in buying her time. She briefly fumbled for her Unit-issue weapon, then decided that discretion was the better part of valour and just ran for an alley.

The shimmer followed her.

Realising she was in mortal peril, she tried to call the Unit.

But Blood Fire detected this, hissed in amusement and activated the cr'she-ti, the jammer. That was something of a misnomer, as its function was more sophisticated than mere jamming. A jammed signal was indistinct, and an operator could pick up on this - so the cr'she-ti actually redirected the signal, to one just as clear...and just as useless.

Back at HQ, Bishop, the AI Denny had named as a joke after the synthetic in Aliens, noted that Officer Greenwood's feed had gone, curiously, to a local jazz station. This was odd...because Greenwood was known to be a fan of R&B. It debated what to do...and then made a crucial error. Instead of alerting the operators and/or the Commander, as it should have, it decided to keep monitoring and wait.

(Later, Denny would curse bitterly: "It sounded like a good idea, but I had my doubts about Bishop from day one! Behaviour-wise, it's too much like HAL! Terry Pratchett knew what he was talking about: artificial intelligence will never beat real stupidity!"

Candy asked tearfully. "Isn't that unkind to Alice?"

"Dammit, she should've gone for a taxi!" Denny snapped, though the pain underlying his anger was all too clear.

But it was too late now. IA could talk about "unintended consequences" and "unforeseen occurrences" all they liked. The bottom line was: A Unit officer had died on duty. Worse...she had been brutally murdered.)

Alice registered the lack of response from the Unit, and knew with terror that she was on her own. In her panic she did the worst thing she could have done: she tried to race on foot to the Unit. She should have flagged down a taxi and flashed her Unit badge to commandeer the vehicle (the driver would have received compensation from the Unit Citizen Liaison Office).

Hindsight, however, is always 20/20.

With horror she saw the alley was a dead end. She was trapped. God, he must know the city as well as any cop. What do I do? Tasers are no good. I don't have a handgun, wouldn't bother him if I had - Jocelyn said they were mostly immune to small-arms fire.

Wait - they don't touch you if you're unarmed!

She felt a kind of relief as she remembered that. Knowing as she did exactly who - or rather, what - was hunting her, Alice did the one and only thing which would save her life now: she drew her weapon...and threw it away. Dear God, I hope he saw that.

In fact Blood Fire did. But he was intent upon the Revenge Quest, so he ignored it. The ooman he was Questing for was soon located; it - she, he realised from the creature's shape and scent - had discarded her weapon, presumably to save herself. Clearly she knew that the Code forbade killing unarmed prey.

Except that he was ignoring the Code. Da'dkui-di was far more important.

The ooman was cowering in fear and addressing him in their strange, high-pitched speech.

"Do...do you understand me?" Alice quavered, more terrified than she'd ever been. She'd once faced down a known rapist and killer with more aplomb. "Please, I'm not armed. I'm...safe. I'm of no interest to you. Please go. Please."

The reply she'd half expected, thanks to Marie, came, in rough, deep and synthesised tones. "Yes. I understand you. By the Code, you are unarmed and thus safe."

"Yes," she gasped in relief. "Please, I know why you're on Earth - that's this world, the world we're on - you're here to hunt. But you only hunt armed people, and I'm not."

"That is true," he agreed, "the Code forbids harming unarmed prey." But then, to her shock and terror, his wrist blades shot out, and he added coldly, "But I am not Hunting you. I am here for...revenge!"

With that, he lunged. As the prey shrieked in terror, he thrust forward and the blades entered the prey's body, causing catastrophic injury to her internal organs as they were pierced and ripped. She shrieked again, but this time in agony, as her insides and blood burst forth.

Coldly he watched her die, pleading feebly to the end.

"Why?" she kept asking as she coughed up blood, staring desperately up at him with her face streaked with more blood, but he ignored her. He had his reasons, good ones by his lights, but there was no point explaining them to dying prey.

It took only fr'she seconds before she expired, cutting loose with urine as oomans usually did. Once the prey was dead he hacked and sliced to remove her kh'hli as a trophy...and as a warning to his enemies. They would know from what he had done to the prey exactly how she had died. They would know, too, that he was ignoring the Code.

But it would not save them.

As the bone cradle came loose from the corpse with a wet sound and blood dripping, he hissed in pleasure and anticipation. Soon now, the Revenge Prey, the subjects of his Quest, would come.

And soon after, they would die!

I will avenge you, Young Blood!

5th and Broadway, near Alice's home

6:52 that morning

A jogging passer-by noticed the wide, spreading pool of blood with distaste - then with horror, as she became aware of Alice's crumpled, mutilated corpse. She staggered and vomited on realising she was looking at a dead cop.

I - I have to report this. God, it's horrible. I hope she didn't suffer.

She fumbled for her Nokia phone and dialled 999, the Unit's special number.