Gerald had not had a happy week. Thank Heaven Saturday was here at
last. He wandered over to his bedroom window and looked out lazily over
his large garden, a garden resplendent in the early summer sun. It
could not be said that those trim borders and perfectly manicured lawns
were his own handiwork. He was far too busy (and impractical) for that.
But the gardener had made a splendid job of putting his, Gerald's,
vision into effect. It looked exactly as he had pictured it two years
ago when he first moved into the house of his late aunt, whose sole
beneficiary he had been. He sighed happily.
Then something happened and he gasped, shaken out of his daydreams. His beloved long-haired white cat, Samantha, jumped silently onto the window ledge beside him and rubbed her purring litheness against his side.
"I wish you wouldn't creep up on me like that," he said. But he stroked her affectionately all the same, grateful as ever for her companionship. Dear Samantha. It was good that she was around, for a change.
And that was part of the problem with Samantha. She was not around half as much as he would like. In the last few months she had been increasingly absent from this large house that they shared. She had once been gone for three days and he had begun to despair of seeing her again when she reappeared, as affectionate as ever, and acting as though nothing had happened.
He picked her up and held her against his face, rubbing his cheek into her soft fur. She purred happily, but Gerald sensed that the cat's attention was not focused entirely on him. She was looking out of the window, as if expecting to see something. He looked and saw nothing at first. And then a ladder appeared in the garden of the house on the other side of his garden wall. Gerald put Samantha back on the windowsill and watched as the ladder moved towards the neighbouring house. He gasped in astonishment as the person holding the ladder came into view. It was She! Or was it Her? He thought a moment or two and decided that it was, grammatically, She. So She lived next door and he had never realized.
Gerald had only met Her once. She had accidentally trodden on his foot as they passed each other in the County Stores in the local market town. He had apologized profusely, despite being the injured party and She had smilingly told him it was entirely Her fault!
Since then he had seen Her coming an going a half dozen or so times, but he doubted that She had seen him. It was usually at the weekend in the town that he spied Her and he had begun to live for the times he saw Her. One day they had been sitting a couple of rows away at a concert in St Mary's church and She had been with an older woman. At least She wasn't with a man, he had thought. Although how such a total wet blanket - afraid of his own shadow - as he was ever going to have either the wit or the nerve to make contact with this unapproachable beauty was beyond him. Once again it looked as though he was going to have to worship yet another goddess from a safe distance!
Gerald was an excellent archivist, in charge of a whole Department, but he was not much of a Man of Action in the Real World. In fact he loathed the Real World. When not at work he was happy to potter around his house, sit reading in his lovely garden and stroke Samantha. Two weeks a year he would spend in Italy, immersing himself in Renaissance art and architecture while Samantha languished in a cattery. Sometimes he reflected that it really wasn't much of a life for a man of thirty-five.
And now, She was there not a hundred yards away, climbing up a ladder and looking none too steady as She tried to reach an open widow in Her attic. She must, obviously, have got Herself locked out of Her own home! Poor girl. And another thing struck Gerald as remarkable and somewhat unexpected. She was not wearing a stitch of clothing!
It soon became apparent that the Young Lady's attempt to gain entry had started to go wrong - badly wrong. The ladder moved sharply and She froze, obviously terrified to move either up or down. A faint cry could be heard. And then Gerald felt a sharp pain in his hand. Samantha had bitten him!
Bitten him! The sweet and gentle Samantha? That paragon of feline virtue? The cat that all his friends commented on so favourably, telling him how lucky he was to possess such a loving animal, when most cats were wild and unpredictable creatures, as likely to scratch and hiss as they were to purr? What was happening today?
He looked down at the cat and saw a look on that usually impassive face that shocked him. It was the most eloquent expression he had ever seen on any quadruped! It was a mixture of anger, pleading, disappointment and contempt.
"Can't you see that you must act?" Samantha seemed to be saying. "So much depends on your acting in a decisive manner for once in your useless life! Go and rescue Her, you wimp!"
Another and more painful bite from the strangely agitated Samantha caused Gerald to do something very unusual for him - unique, even. He acted in the decisive manner demanded by the occasion. The wall was not too high for him to climb, he decided. And it was a very long way to go around to the front of Her house by more conventional means. By the time he had gone around that way, She might have fallen with consequences for Her fair and delicate frame that were too ghastly to contemplate.
As he stepped out into his garden Gerald saw a piece of material lying on the ground. It was a bikini top! He absentmindedly picked it up and stuffed it into his pocket.
‘I wonder how that got there,’ he thought, as he ran to the wall and climbed up and over.
Frieda Antonia Feathersonhaugh (pronounced "Fanshawe"), was a singularly lovely young woman. She had always been that way, right from day one.
"What a lovely baby, Mrs Feathersonhaugh," her mother had early on been informed by the other ladies of her acquaintance. And the other ladies had been right.
"What a sweet little girl," they had enthused as the babe developed into a golden haired child. And they had been right!
"But that wonderful fair hair will darken in a few years! Such a pity!"
But here they were wrong. Very wrong. Just about as wrong as anyone could be!
Frieda's hair was as fair and golden now as it had ever been. And she was twenty-one.
Whenever she looked at those glorious tresses in the mirror she was, in her excusable vanity, reminded of a verse from one of the Psalms. "Sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb. More to be desired are they than gold. Yea, than much fine gold."
Miss Roberts, Frieda's Gym Mistress at St Hilda's Academy for Genteel Young Ladies, had hungrily slavered over Frieda's burgeoning womanhood when our heroine had been one of her pupils. Lusting Miss Roberts had watched Frieda develop into, by mouth wateringly exciting degrees, a Big Girl and in All the Right Places. Miss Roberts, consumed by frenzied desire, had endured many sleepless nights as she angrily and uselessly railed against the gross injustice of a system that denied hard working and dedicated educators the right to seduce and ravish such sweet young things. But Miss Roberts valued her job and the fat pension at the end of it. Miss Roberts was a practical woman. She had to be satisfied with other things.
But Miss Roberts never forgot the delectable Frieda, or altogether abandoned hope of attaining the object of her lustful desires. We are all of us allowed to dream, are we not?
Virginally innocent Frieda might not have noticed Miss Roberts's admiration. She might have been blissfully unaware of the older woman's yearning for her sweet young body, but the other girls did notice. One of them, a girl of whom it would have been a great and mendacious understatement to call "plain", was a fervent admirer of Miss Roberts. Ethelberta Harrison, niece of the Prime Minister and cousin of the Secretary of Sate for the Environment (whom she greatly resembled), would have given twenty years of her life for just five wonderful minutes with the athletic Miss Roberts. But Miss Roberts, blinded by lust, had eyes only for the unattainable and golden haired Frieda!
"You cow," snarled the angry Ethelberta, one day in summer. " I hate you, you bitch!"
"Why, darling Ethelberta," simpered the startled Frieda, "what have I ever done to upset you?"
Frieda's lip quivered as she said this and her voice faltered.
"Miss Roberts loves you," hissed the furious Ethelberta.
"Miss Roberts? Are you joking or what? She's just the gym mistress, Ethelberta. Just a teacher. She's just someone my Mummy and Daddy pay to educate me - just a common servant, really. She doesn't love me... Does she? Golly, how utterly gross!"
"Oh! What a total arsehole you are, Frieda! Get with it, Frieda! Of course she loves you! She's a dyke, like me, and you are the purest piece of sugar on two legs this school has seen in fifty years! And I'm going to fight you for her. Put 'em up, Frieda! Let's see what you're made of!"
"But I like you, Ethelberta. I don't want to fight you and I don't know how to fight. I go to Japanese literature classes, not martial arts like you. Please don't make me fight you! Please, Ethelberta!"
But Ethelberta was too enraged by jealousy! She knocked Frieda to the ground in front of a horrified mistress. (Not Miss Roberts).
Ethelberta was expelled the next day, after being given a severe caning, and Frieda enjoyed a happy time for the rest of her days at St Hilda's. The pure young maiden was still innocently unaware of Miss Roberts's continuing and ever increasing determination to possess and ravish her sweet young body.
Frieda and her friends would never know that Miss Roberts had a spy hole allowing her to see into the showers. Never did Frieda stand naked under the floods of hot water without a trembling Miss Roberts watching as the silvery rivulets cascaded over her adolescent firmness.
And finally Frieda left school, a year or two earlier than most. She as a clever girl and went up to Cambridge aged a mere sixteen to pursue the study of Oriental Languages. She secured a First after only two years. All her fellow students averred to the end of their days that they had never known a girl who had less interest in life. But everybody loved her. She had not a single enemy all the time she was there!
And then came a very traumatic experience involving nudity.
Frieda was twenty-one when she acquired Max. It happened a few months before she met Miss Roberts (for the first time since leaving school) and shortly after leaving Howard so spectacularly.
Howard was a young man. Miss Roberts was a thirty-something gym mistress with a toned and magnificent body and a lust for Frieda's virginal purity. Max was a King Charles Spaniel. Of the three, Frieda was to come to prefer Max by far. Max was no trouble at all!
Howard seemed pretty promising to start with. Frieda met him at work. She had a job now that she had completed her education. Her knowledge of Japanese language and literature was being put to practical use. Frieda was a writer/translator.
Sadly for Frieda, her knowledge of Nipponese high culture was not what her employers were looking for. Frieda had soon discovered that life in the real world was a mundane and boring affair! She spent her time translating instruction manuals from Japanese into acceptable and comprehensible English. She readily admitted that her work was necessary and useful in a world whose household goods were mostly of Far Eastern manufacture. Thanks to her excellent work, many electronic devices found their way into the homes of hoi polloi furnished with instructions of such comprehensive accuracy and crystal clarity that only an idiot would come to grief after reading them. (Plenty of idiots did come to spectacular and even fatal grief, but please, don't blame Frieda!)
One advantage of having such a boring job - Frieda was not by nature a technologically inclined young lady - was that she understood how to service, assemble, dissemble, reassemble and repair pretty well every household appliance in existence. Not only did she translate the user's instructions leaflets, but also the more complex manuals for service engineers. There were times when she considered going into business as a repair and maintenance engineer, but the thought of acquiring the formal qualifications she would need deterred her.
Howard was a graduate trainee at the same company. He was a tall young man a few years older than Frieda. They went out a few times to social events and one night Frieda invited him back to her flat just for a coffee. (She seriously meant it, too!)
There she experienced, for the first time, the act of love. And jolly nice it was, she decided! Howard was over the moon about his conquest. To have actually found and deflowered a real genuine virgin who was well over the age of consent - in this day and age - was no mean feat and he boasted of it for weeks.
Three weeks after her initiation into womanhood she was invited by Howard to go for a drive down to the coast where he promised her an idyllic day on a sandy beach, side by side with the man of her dreams and with a hamper containing chilled sparkling wine and a variety of mouth watering snacks to sustain them through the day.
Frieda was not to know that Howard had in mind to repeat his manly entry into Frieda's womanhood, this time in the open air and under the benign eye of the summer sun. She would have found this delightful enough had the couple been able to find a private and secluded spot. But a shock was in store!
When they had parked the car and walked a half-mile to the beach, Frieda was struck by something odd about the bathers lying at roughly two-yard intervals all along the beach. On the downward scramble she was too busy getting down to the golden strand to notice more than the precipitous nature of the descent. Once on the beach, though, she noticed that many of the people were naked. Howard - fiend that he was - had brought her to a Nudist Beach!
Poor Frieda had never known such fear and embarrassment before. What was she to do?
She extracted herself from the beach horror with surprising ease. For a while she was incapable of action, being stunned at what she was seeing. In all directions lay people of all shapes and sizes and most age groups not one of who was wearing anything at all.
Families were there, Mothers and Fathers allowing their sweet young children to see them in all their nakedness! She was speechless for a while as Howard led her to a spot where there was room for them both to lie down and spread their picnic blanket on the sand.
She watched as Howard undressed, exposing his manly parts to the gaze of all and sundry. Not that all and sundry seemed all that interested, which was odd because Howard's manly parts were remarkable, or so Frieda thought. She looked up and down the beach and Howard’s manly parts seemed more remarkable than ever!
"Come on, Freddy," said Howard as he noticed his girlfriend's seeming reluctance to follow suit and bare her heavenly beauty to the elements. "You know you want to!"
But a horrified Frieda knew nothing of the sort. This was such a disappointment. Howard had made love to her only weeks ago in the privacy of her own apartment and this had been such a wonderful experience, not least because of its privacy. It had been something for just the two of them, two young people in love and hidden from the world. But THIS, this public sharing of their bodies with a vulgar multitude, was horrible - quite horrible.
"Want to do what, you pervert! Strip off in front of all these people? You must be joking! PERVERT!" She was screaming in a way that surprised herself.
Then she looked around at the masses of innocent naturists and pointed in their general direction. Her voice became a few decibels louder.
"PERVERTS! That's what you are! Perverts! You should all be arrested."
She was in danger of becoming hysterical, but just as her terrifying fury was about to consume her she became calm. She saw the car keys, lying on the picnic blanket. She bent down and seized them and ran from the scene. In minutes she was in the car and driving back to London, a sad and disillusioned lady. Howard, needing to dress before he could pursue the fleeing Frieda, arrived at the car park just in time to see his BMW and with it his Frieda becoming a mere speck in the distance.
She never did find out how he made it back home and she never really cared. He came around to collect his car next day and was subjected to a tirade of unladylike abuse, most inappropriate coming from the lips of a gentle maiden who had been expensively educated at a very good school. Not that Frieda was a maiden any longer, of course. But she remained virginal in spirit if not in fact.
So that was the end of Howard. Shortly after this contretemps Frieda decided to avoid the office as much as possible and work from home, only coming up to London a couple of times a month for meetings, through which she mostly daydreamed or slept. The Japanese technical manuals arrived by post and Frieda sat in her drawing room and translated them. She had moved to a village a few miles from the county town and rented a house for a year, with the option of an indefinite extension if she wanted it. She loved it there and had never been so happy - although it was a little lonely sometimes.
Then Max arrived.
It was Frieda who called him Max. After months of boring translation, naming her newly acquired dog was the first truly creative act in a very long while. It was surprisingly easy, really. She just looked at the little fellow and said "Hi, Max!" Simple as that. Such is the way with the creative process. Such is the nature of genius!
As I may have mentioned in an earlier chapter, Frieda had acquired a considerable amount of expertise when it came to servicing and maintaining electronic equipment. She could fix any problems in her own household and one day was able to put her friend Tracy's television to rights. Tracy was impressed. Impressed and very grateful.
I said that Tracy was Frieda's friend. This is not entirely accurate. She was more of the nature of a home help - a stout lady of twenty-five, who needed a bit of work in order to provide for two children, the result of separate indiscretions with two men, one Indian and one West Indian. Tracy was no bigot. Frieda admired her for that, and for the thoroughness with which she kept her house tidy. Some weeks after hiring her, Frieda lost Tracy's services for eighteen months when that lady was convicted of various offences, ranging from shoplifting to trading in illegal substances, and her two little darlings taken into care.
Max was a direct result of Tracy's gratitude. Tracy talked a lot and Frieda's skills with household appliances soon became well known among her friends on the run down estate where she dwelt. One way and another Frieda began to help out a number of Tracy's friends and Max was payment for one of her jobs. A little while after acquiring Max, an interview with a truculent and aggrieved Service Engineer whose trade was being adversely affected by Frieda's freelancing, persuaded her to stick to her writing in the future. I'm not saying that the man was threatening, but Frieda decided it was better to be safe than sorry.
Max was a darling little creature right from the start. His house-training was incredibly easy and soon Frieda was taking the growing little fellow for walks, always careful to dispose of any canine solid wastes by popping them into a plastic bag. Frieda was a responsible citizen and knew her social duties. Would that there were more like her!
She was taking Max shopping one Friday and had just come out of Debenhams when a well-remembered voice hailed her.
"Why! If it isn't Frieda! My best ever pupil and looking as straight and slim as ever. How are you, Frieda! It's been so long!"
It was Miss Roberts, her old gym mistress. What a lovely surprise thought Frieda, who was a little lonely since Tracy had been sent to prison and her extra curricular activities had been curtailed after representations from disgruntled tradesmen.
"Why it's Miss Roberts. How lovely to see you! I haven't really kept in touch with anyone from St Hilda's this last couple of years. What brings you to this neck of the woods?"
"I'm visiting a sick sister, Frieda. Sadly, she doesn't have long left and hardly recognizes me, she's so terribly ill. It's all a bit hard to bear, I'm afraid. We've always been close and it breaks my heart to see her like this."
Frieda looked appropriately sympathetic and made what she hoped were the right kind of commiserative noises. Miss Roberts dabbed at an eye and sniffed.
"Why don't we go and get a coffee,” said Frieda. “As long as we can find somewhere that welcomes this little monster."
Max wagged his tail happily at hearing himself referred to and Miss Roberts bent down and stroked him. Max looked happy at having made a new friend - almost as happy as Frieda at having met an old one again.
Frieda so enjoyed hearing all the latest news from St Hilda's that she invited Miss Roberts round for dinner that very same night. The alacrity with which her former teacher accepted might have sounded warning bells to a more suspicious person than the open and generous Frieda with all her wide-eyed innocence (except where men were concerned - after Howard).
After a simple but very ample meal, Frieda began to tell Miss Roberts - or Dolores, as that good lady was named- all about her own activities since getting her First in Oriental Languages. Miss Roberts smiled as she told of her experiences with Howard, especially the trip to the seaside.
"Great Hampton Cove! I know it well, my dear Frieda. It is surprising I did not see you there! I love the place, although I agree it is tiresomely crowded at the weekend and most visitors never explore right up to the headland beyond which one can be quite alone - or pretty well alone. The nearest other person tends to be a hundred yards away at least!"
"You mean you are a nudist? YOU?"
"It's not that big a deal, darling Frieda! You'd be amazed! If you'd spoken to a cross section of the other occupants of the beach on that day, you'd have found they were all highly respectable. And I very much doubt that Howard would have tried to make love to you in front of so many others. Naturists are surprisingly prudish. You'd just have had a picnic, a swim and a nice all over tan. You silly goose!"
Miss Roberts laughed in a friendly way. Frieda might have been worried. But Miss Roberts represented order and authority. She stood for all that was secure and safe. Frieda felt herself relax, aided by the Tesco's Own Brand Claret which the pair had drunk with the roast beef.
"It's just that my parents never used to let me see them naked. And at that beach were whole families in the altogether. I was shocked. I doubt I could ever have relaxed and enjoyed my picnic with Howard."
"It's awfully hot in here, Frieda! Do you mind if I slip my blouse off for a while?"
"Not at all, Dolores! Be my guest."
Soon they were relaxing on Frieda's sofa. She stole a glance at her companion's bare arms and shoulders, richly tanned (she must have been to somewhere a lot warmer than England in the last weeks) and excitingly muscular. Miss Roberts was still a very fit woman. If only I had a suntan like that, thought the envious Frieda.
"You're wonderfully brown, Dolores! I can't remember when I last had a tan of any kind, let alone an all over one! Do you mean to say you are that colour all over - every single last square millimetre of you?"
"Would you like to see it, Frieda? My all over suntan?"
Frieda nodded enthusiastically. Why not, after all? If it made the poor woman happy. After all, her sister was dying! Soon Miss Roberts stood before her. My word! But she certainly did look magnificent! There just was not a single spare ounce of flab on all that perfect body! Only the somewhat leather skin texture betrayed the fact that Dolores was no longer all that young. The gym mistress did a swift pirouette and let Frieda see her from all angles. Then she did a few quick bends and stretches to show Frieda how her long limbs had lost none of their lithe suppleness over the years.
Within a few minutes she and Frieda, both nude, were in bed together and Frieda was being educated in the mysteries of Another Kind of Love. It was almost as jolly as being penetrated by Howard! Max slept on the bed, thinking how lucky he was to have two friends now.
Miss Roberts's sister made a remarkable recovery a couple of weeks after Frieda and her ex-mistress had made love for the first time. The first of many! In another week she was well enough to leave hospital and Dolores took her back home with her, leaving Frieda and Max alone again after a very interesting time for Frieda; whose knowledge of bizarre and kinky sexual activities had progressed in leaps and bounds while Miss Roberts had been her houseguest.
When Dolores had first pushed her head between the tender Frieda's wide open thighs and inserted her probing, stimulating tongue into her sweet smelling tunnel of delight, Frieda had never imagined she would soon be returning the favour and loving every second of it. As Miss Roberts finally took her leave, she pronounced Frieda to be a gifted lover with natural talent and great powers of invention. Frieda, who had always been anxious to please, was flattered. She felt much the same about Miss Roberts.
"You're a real expert now, darling Frieda! That sweet little tongue has had me in Heaven. How my clitoris and I will miss you!" And with those romantic words she and her sister were gone. Frieda was left to ponder her future now that she was alone with the adoring and adorable Max. Dolores had left a gap in Frieda's life!
Each morning the pair had gone for a run. Frieda was a keen jogger in any case, but Miss Roberts was a veritable demon for hard, prolonged, challenging exercise. On their morning sessions Dolores had worn brief shorts and a sports bra. She had looked every inch the serious athlete! At first, Frieda had worn her tracksuit but Dolores had not approved of Frieda’s attire, telling her that she must allow the air to get to her bare skin and leave her limbs free of restrictive clothing if she were to derive full benefit from the exercise. And Dolores, whose life had been devoted to physical education, ought to know! So a visit to the town Sports Shop had resulted in Frieda being kitted out with the same kind of aerodynamic and exiguously well-ventilated gear as her mentor, except that instead of brief shorts, Frieda sported a pair of tiny body-hugging briefs. She had gasped when ordered to buy this last item, but recollected that the women competitors at the recent Olympics had worn much the same - although perhaps not quite as revealing where the hindquarters were concerned.
The lustful Dolores gloried in the sight of those long flashing thighs, rhythmically working beside her as the pair ate up the miles in the chill morning air. For years this wonderful girl had been her favourite pupil and now that sweet body was hers to do with as she wished! Bliss!
Before the advent of the serious runner, Miss Roberts, Max had been wont to accompany Frieda on these morning workouts. But his wish to examine minutely each and every lamppost and tuft of grass, spending an inordinate amount of time in so doing, did not appeal to the purposeful older woman. The unfortunate creature was therefore left at home while the two humans tested their bodies to the limits before returning sweaty and breathless to a quick session in Frieda's bedroom from which the curious canine was excluded. Then Dolores would go to the hospital and her rapidly recovering sister and Frieda would translate a few more instructions from Far Eastern languages into English.
Dolores would come back in the evening and eat the meal Frieda had spent much time and effort preparing. Frieda was a good cook and Dolores had on more than one occasion to reprove the young girl for overfeeding her. But a few more exercises seemed to suffice to keep her at the optimum weight. After dinner, Dolores would take off her sweater and invite Frieda to join her on the sofa and Frieda was soon persuaded to take off her top. Then the kissing began, followed by the intimate groping. Dolores was very good at getting the rest of Frieda's clothes off her, by slow degrees, so that the younger woman never ceased to marvel when she realized that she was, once again, naked on the couch with Miss Roberts (also bare) on top of her and using her well practised fingers to bring her young lover to the height of insane desire.
Max was always a fascinated bystander. After three weeks of this, when Dolores left and life returned to normal, he was to miss all this exhibition of pulsating, heaving, threshing and sweating human flesh! Frieda soon enough reverted to her former fully-clothed state. Max preferred the stripped Frieda! But Max was only a dog and he knew his place. What Max needed was another furry creature - one of a more independent nature - to stiffen his resolve. This creature was not that far away.
Frieda went out for her early morning run next day, the first time she had been without the athletic Dolores by her side. She found that she no longer derived quite such pleasure at feeling the cold clean air of morning on her skin. All she could think of was that her long thighs, delightful ankles and exquisite midriff, arms, shoulders and cleavage were exposed for all to see. Now that Miss Roberts had moved on, Frieda's natural modesty had reasserted itself. But a seed had been sown nevertheless. Frieda wanted the sun to caress her body and turn it a rich shade of brown just like that of the aging but still beguiling form of the departed Miss Roberts. But in private.
Now that the keen gym mistress was no longer there to keep her up to the mark and because she wanted company as she ran, Max was allowed to resume his presence by her side and under her feet. Inevitably this meant that she had to make frequent pauses in order that the beast might inspect each and all of the entrancing and exciting scents encountered, and also deposit his own scent in ways that will be familiar to dog lovers and need not be described here in distasteful detail.
On her third morning as a lone runner once more (except for Max), she donned her former all enveloping gear. Some of the looks she had been getting from such few people as were around so early had disturbed her. But as soon as she put on her tracksuit she was amazed at the piteous whine that emanated from her little companion.
"What is it, precious," she asked tenderly of the doleful little dog.
Another heart rending whine. With regret, Frieda decided that she had better not go for her jog today. Max seemed to be sickening for something and she feared to leave him. She slipped out of her tracksuit, revealing the usual running gear underneath. Amazingly Max perked up at this and yelped delightedly, running to the front door and demanding to be let out, obviously anxious to be off with his now familiarly underdressed mistress. So Frieda and the dog left, with our lovely heroine dressed again only in her tiny briefs, running shoes and sports bra.
How inexplicable are the ways of the animal kingdom, thought Frieda as she faced again the embarrassment of running with so much of her firm and nubile young body visible for all to see. She supposed that Max had come to associate minimal gear with a daily ritual, a ritual that must be observed in all details in order that his primitive fear might be not aroused. Animals obviously love the familiar and are afraid of sudden change.
Later that day, after she had translated into English the instructions for an electric carving knife in terms so cogently specific and easy to understand that only a congenital idiot could fail to get it right, she went out into the garden to get a breath of air. If she had known that not one but three congenital idiots were to have fatal and extremely bloody accidents with the easy to assemble and use carving knife, and that her client would be sued (unsuccessfully - thank heaven), she might have felt less at peace with the world.
"Oh, you lovely Pussy!" Frieda said delightedly. The last time that these words had been uttered on these premises had been upstairs in Frieda's bedroom by the now departed Miss Roberts, and she had been referring to the taste of a part of Frieda's anatomy! But Frieda was addressing a long haired white cat which had been sitting outside her back door as she stepped into the garden.
"Meow," replied the beautiful animal.
And she WAS beautiful! Frieda immediately designated the stranger to belong to the female sex of its species. Later on when she had come to know and fondle the newcomer she would discover that the cat was indeed a lady and a very refined lady at that.
The cat advanced in a friendly manner and allowed herself to be stroked. She purred loudly. Her fur was soft and well cared for. This was obviously someone’s loved and pampered pet.
And then the white cat’s attention was distracted. She was no longer attending to Frieda but looking beyond her. Frieda sensed this and looked around. Max was standing at the door and looking at the newcomer.
‘Oh, dear,’ thought Frieda, ‘this could be awkward!’
The cat had seen Max and Max had seen the cat. Frieda prepared to scoop up the lovely white creature and save her from Max’s rage. Alternatively she was ready to protect Max from the cat’s anger. It all depended on which of the two needed protecting from which! On the whole she feared more for Max, having been told that a cat can make mincemeat of a dog more than twice its size, and Max was only a small dog, as well as a very peaceable one.
But her fears of a cross-species bust up were groundless. Pussy was purring more loudly than ever! And Max was wagging his tail with extreme vigour and grinning his joy at the sight of the delightful newcomer. He had liked Miss Roberts, but hadn’t really approved of the things she was doing to his mistress. This obviously well behaved cat would, he decided, not lead the too easily beguiled Frieda into Bad Ways. She was a worthy replacement.
The two approached and started to make friends. Pussy rubbed herself around Max and Max sniffed Pussy’s sweet little arsehole, Pussy obligingly lifting her tail to facilitate this inspection. Then the two disappeared inside the house.
Frieda saw them going upstairs together and assumed that Max, the polite host, was showing Snowy around the house. Perhaps he was showing her where the bathroom was!
For Frieda had decided to name the cat Snowy. She was white and so was snow - at least when it first fell. Also, the first flakes were already falling of a snowfall that was to leave the entire countryside covered before lunchtime.
‘Just as well I had my morning run before this started,’ thought Frieda. Then the phone rang.
It was Miss Dolores Roberts, now at home and tending her convalescent sister. Almost four days separation from Frieda’s unspoiled sweetness and hot moist little tongue inside her hungry womanhood had made her desperate to talk to her former pupil.
“Hello my precious! Are you well now I have gone away?”
“Yes, my darling! As well as I could be without you to warm my bed and fill my body with the joys of paradise,” replied the poetic Frieda. For Frieda was still very much in love with Miss Roberts.
“Is it snowing where you are, precious Frieda?”
“It’s just started to, my sweet love! And the sky is like lead. I reckon we’re in for quite a fall. Thank Heaven I went for my morning run before all this started. Goodness knows how long it will be before I can go out again!”
Frieda did not mention the aristocratic and snow-white feline whose coming had seemingly heralded the advent of the winter’s first blizzard. She knew that Miss Roberts did not care for cats. She didn’t much care for Max, come to that, regarding him as not a proper dog at all. Miss Roberts had very masculine tastes where most things were concerned - including dogs.
“What are you saying, Frieda? Am I to understand that you will not venture out tomorrow?“
Frieda realized that her standing with her lover and role model was in danger of sinking to a very low depth indeed. She would go out next day, after all!
"Oh. Yes! I’ll go out, but I’ll be wearing a bit more than today. I’d have been a block of ice in minutes if I’d gone out in this with so little on!“
At the other end of the line, Miss Roberts exploded!
“Are you afraid of a few silly little snowflakes on that fine strong body? The fire within you will melt it in seconds! You are a real woman, Frieda - not some silly pretty thing for men to toy with!"
Frieda gulped apprehensively. She’d never thought of herself in quite such heroic terms before! Miss Roberts continued.
“I shall go out tomorrow morning, dressed just as I was today, and so will you! Have courage, my Frieda! Please promise me you won’t be afraid. We women are strong, my darling and must be ever stronger in a world still run by Men! Don’t let me down! I shall think of you as I run through the snow! I shall picture those lovely young limbs crimson in the bitter cold. Be brave, Frieda! Be very brave! We shall both gain strength by coming through these next days. And now Agnes needs her lunch. Don’t forget, Frieda, no slacking!”
Frieda put down the phone and went to the window. What a lovely sight! But surely it was impossible to go out in this with most of her body uncovered. Dolores seemed to think it possible! Dolores taught Physical Education. She was the expert, after all. Maybe Frieda could do it…
Frieda put on her running gear and tried a few circuits of her very large garden. At first it was terrible but she persevered and soon found that she was warming up with the exertion. After fifteen minutes she was feeling great, except for her fingers, which just wouldn’t stop hurting. Maybe she would be OK if she wore gloves. Better phone Dolores after her sister had been fed.
(Will Dolores agree to Frieda wearing gloves in the morning cold as she does her daily run? Or is the gym mistress too hard, even to her beloved Frieda?)
ALBERT IN THE EARLY MORNING
Albert Ferrers was up early - again! Three nights ago he had been kept up with the most persistent diarrhoea that he could remember in a long while. It had been a terrible night, during which he had been forced out of bed time after time to go to the toilet. Finally, just as the unwelcome fluidity had finally shown signs of easing he had pulled the curtains apart and looked outside at the icy wilderness that this usually idyllic village had become since that heavy snowfall of the day before.
He had been very glad to have looked out at this time! It was still dark and due to remain so for an hour but the streets were well enough lit for the girl in the house opposite to his, at the end of the cul de sac to be clearly and most delightfully visible.
He had first seen her a few weeks ago, together with another and older lady as they both left the girl’s house to go for an early morning run. Both ladies had clearly been serious runners! You could tell a serious runner by the way they dressed - or didn’t dress! The shortest of short shorts - tiny body hugging briefs in the case of the young blonde - expensive trainers and truncated tops, leaving the athletic bodies free of all unnecessary impediments to free movement.
The older woman had attracted his attention first. That was clearly one very fit lady, with the kind of abdomen that plenty of male body builders would envy - the quintessential washboard stomach! And the obvious strength in her thighs had caused his heart to miss a few beats as he had imagined himself encircled by them, unable to escape their clutches - even if he had wanted to! It was as well he did not know that the good lady was a lesbian from way back!
Over the weeks that the pair had been together he had noticed that the younger one was improving rapidly in terms of fitness. At first her physical distress when the couple returned after an hour was palpable, but she had become progressively accustomed to the exercise. Albert was not always up in time to see them go out but when they returned he was getting himself ready for work, after bringing his corpulent wife her early morning cup of tea.
And then the younger one had set out alone one morning, with a delightful King Charles spaniel, who had clearly been diverting his mistress from the sacred aim of improving that delightful body’s fitness by the way he needed to be encouraged to concentrate on running rather than sniffing around every tuft of grass and lifting his leg rather more frequently than should have been needed. But she still looked delightful. And she was young and fresh where her companion had been mature and seasoned.
The sudden cold weather had made Albert sure that this daily display of sweet young limbs in the early morning would be off the agenda for the time being. But, NO! She had appeared at the same hour and dressed (undressed) in exactly the same way. He had shivered sympathetically but the girl had not seemed too cold herself, except that she was flapping both hands around, as if to coax heat into her fingertips. Surely she could at least have worn gloves. How would she manage to get her front door open with those frozen fingers when she got back home?
Then, three days after the start of the snow, as he watched the young blonde disappearing into the distance, her golden hair streaming behind her and her long limbs eating up the miles, he felt a hard and angry blow against his right ear. It was Edna, his fat and foul tempered wife.
“You filthy pervert! Looking at those females again! You think I’m stupid? Think I don’t know what goes on in that dirty mind of yours? My dear mother - God rest her soul - was right when she said you were a bad one. Pig! Go and get my tea.”
This last command was accompanied by another stinging blow that made his ears ring. Albert did as he was told. The joys of married life! Despite his sore head, though, he still wondered how the lovely creature managed to open her front door with those frozen fingers.
This last problem had been very much on the young lady’s mind on that first terrible morning. But Miss Roberts had been adamant! No concessions were to be made to the cold. None whatsoever!
She had offered to take Max with her, but the little dog had shown great reluctance to leave the house. His legs refused to budge, seeming to be rooted to the floor. Frieda had never known him so obstinate! So she had set off into the freezing darkness of a winter morn alone, wondering if she would make it back alive. Loyal to her former gym mistress and present lover she covered exactly the same route as always and after an hour had returned home, taking an age to get the key to turn in the front door’s lock. Her poor frozen fingers had almost no strength left in them, although they still hurt terribly.
Snowy was waiting for her as she got back, making piteous noises, and she let her in. Max seemed as delighted to see his new feline friend as he was her!
“Have you been out all night, you poor little darling?” she asked the purring cat, as she poured her a saucer of warm milk. Snowy did not reply, as she was too busy lapping up the milk. Frieda went and had a nice shower.
Miss Roberts had forbidden her young lover to have hot showers any more. According to her it was much better for the skin tone to endure a cold one! And Frieda, a vain young woman, was anxious to have good skin tone!
On the phone on the day the snow started it had been made crystal clear to Frieda that the austere, Spartan regime was not to be relaxed - not by an iota!
“You will NOT wear gloves, Frieda! Frankly I am very disappointed! And you will have the same cold shower. It will feel warm enough after an hour out in the cold wind! Believe me!”
And it did feel warm! In minutes the feeling had crept back into her fingers, along with the ability to use them and she was ready for a hearty breakfast.
She got on with some work and the animals went upstairs. It seemed that they found her bed most comfortable. She looked in on them a few times and they were fast asleep, side-by-side. How sweet!
It was a long cold spell. Some of the village’s older inhabitants, as is the way with the elderly, could remember that the winter of 1963 was colder and longer.
“That young Miss Frieda would never have gone out dressed like that in THAT winter,” averred Miss Prosser early one Sunday morning after church to her friend and neighbour Edna. The young unbeliever had just sped by on her way to a well-earned breakfast, long legs moving rhythmically and steadily as they bore her speedily onwards.
Edna scowled at the departing beauty’s pink skinned pulchritude.
“She only does it to make a vulgar display! My Albert was looking out of the window at her every morning, getting up early just to gawp at that! I showed him though! The pig!”
“Not a very Christian sentiment, Edna,” said Miss Prosser. “And you heard the second reading at last Sunday’s Matins. You know - how wives should be obedient to their husbands.“
“St Paul was never married. And he’d most likely never met a creature like Albert!”
Meanwhile Frieda had arrived home and was letting Snowy in for her morning saucer of milk and plate of tuna steak. The sounds of furious mastication, both canine and feline, filled the air as she went upstairs to shower.
One day she would find out where Snowy had appeared from - and kept disappearing to.
Having finished showering she turned on the radio, to learn that after eleven days of heavy snow and sub-zero temperatures, a thaw was on the way and spring was soon to replace the cold. But winter’s last fling had been a good one. Frieda was glad in a way and sad in a way.
She had risen magnificently to the challenge of the cold. Miss Roberts’s sister had phoned a couple of days into the cold snap to tell her that Dolores had succumbed to a heavy cold after returning from a long run and was confined to bed with hot water bottles, being plied with all manner of medicinal preparations, none of which seemed to be doing her much good. Her doctor had ordered her never to be so silly as to venture out again without wearing proper clothing!
“A woman of your age and intelligence should know better,” had been his parting shot.
So she, Frieda, had proved herself to be a better woman than the older Dolores! Frieda had never had even the suspicion of a cold, despite feeling like death in the first couple of days when she staggered the last few yards to her front door. In fact she felt better now than she could remember in all her twenty-one years. She was on top of the world and regretted the coming onset of warm weather.
But with the lengthening days there would arise the opportunity to lie in the sun and acquire a rich tan. But she still shrank from the idea of totally stripping, even in the privacy of her own garden.
On Monday she put her running gear in the washing machine, together with other items of underwear. Then she realized she needed to go into town to the County Stores. For that she would need a skirt, a jumper and underwear. But most of her underwear was rotating in a stately fashion around the drum!
“Never mind! There’s a few sets in my drawer!”
But there were no panties for her to wear. Somehow or other, Snowy and Max had got the drawer open and dragged out all the contents onto the floor where they were using them as a bed.
“What’s wrong with my bed, you two,” she asked irritably. They were a darling pair, but this was a bit annoying!
She pushed the somnolent pair aside and tried to decide which pair of briefs to wear. But they were all unwearable, covered as they were with cat and dog hair. Further to this, Snowy had been indulging in that mysterious feline habit of sucking each and every item, so that not one was not sodden with cat saliva! Yuck!
So she had pulled on her skirt and left for town without minus knickers. If a wind had lifted her skirt that day, it would have been a deep embarrassment! And it was a windy day.
Frieda was lucky that day and completed her shopping without any revelations of her private parts to a wondering multitude. But she was worried nonetheless. Coming out of the shop she trod absentmindedly on to the foot of a Very Nice Young Man.
He was taller than Frieda, by several inches and Frieda was hardly one of the Seven Dwarves! And there was an otherworldly look about him that reminded the now sexually experienced and morally contaminated girl of her own lost innocence.
He apologized profusely, despite being in the right. She prettily told him it was entirely her fault and her heart fluttered in her breast as if she were an adolescent meeting her first ever boy, instead of a brazen slut who had known steamy sex with both a man and a woman.
And it was as if the young man had never existed after that. Until, that is, she saw him a few weeks later when she was with Dolores.
MISS ROBERTS AGAIN
Miss Roberts began to get over her severe cold as soon as the weather improved, but she was still not totally well. Not by a long chalk. Her sister was now far advanced on the road to recovery. Indeed, she had been looking after Dolores for a while! Dolores began to think again of her former pupil - her latest and most satisfying conquest. Before she could do anything to put these thoughts into effect Frieda forestalled her and phoned her former mistress.
“How are you Dolores? I was so worried to hear you were unwell.”
Dolores was still not fully over her cold, as her voice betrayed.
“Buch bedder, thag you. Cough, sneeze, sniff. I god oud of bed yesterday. Wheeze, splutter, cough.” In between outbursts of coughing she asked how Frieda was. She expressed the earnest hope that she had not also succumbed to any malady. There was guilt in her heart to think she might have been the cause of Frieda suffering the same as she had.
“I’m fine, thanks. I’ve never felt better. You were so right to make me brave the cold, darling Dolores! It was pretty rough the first day or two, but I soon got used to it. I was really sorry when the thaw came. It was great to see just how far I could push myself. And you’re SO right about cold showers being good for the skin tone! I glow all over these days!”
Dolores knew she should have been pleased to hear this, but the sound of that vibrant healthy voice, so full of the joys of life, made her feel angry. How dare this young woman thrive on a regime which had laid her low!
“It’s been SO lonely running without you in the mornings, darling. I took Max for a while, but he refused to come out when the snow came and he’s sort of lost interest in coming with me even now it‘s warm again. I run TWICE as far as we used to now. I did fourteen miles yesterday! And I was just as fresh after as when I set out. It would so nice to have you beside me again - and my bed is a lonely place these days! Come and stay whenever you like. Don’t bother phoning, darling! Just come along unannounced whenever you feel like it and stay as long as you like! Bye!”
So Dolores came along three days later, still full of snuffles and wheezes and plainly not up to violent exercise for a while. She stayed behind in the early morning sleeping while Frieda, accustomed by this time to her minimal attire, trained for the Marathon which she had determined to enter in a couple of months. By the time Frieda had returned, Dolores would have fed Max, whom she still refused to think of as a proper dog, and Snowy, when she was around. Snowy, though polite as befitted a superior cat of good breeding, clearly disliked Dolores as deeply as Dolores disliked her.
Frieda had been given a rather different kind of translation task since Miss Roberts had last been her guest. It was a Japanese manual on sexual practices, with the accent being heavily on the things that ladies could do to each other! In order to ensure that she got it right, it only seemed right that she should try a few of the more involved moves out with Miss Roberts, who was willing at first. But only at first.
"You need to be double jointed to do some of this stuff,” Dolores complained after a particularly strenuous session on her first night. “And it's no more enjoyable getting at each other from that angle that doing it face to face!"
But she carried on all the same. For the remainder of her stay she was to complain of back pain.
Frieda learned later that the book had been a great success. She was pleased to think that her talent for translating difficult procedures extended beyond the merely mechanical! And she had loved some of those moves. They had really loosened her up!
"Now that your cough is so much better, darling and you have got rid of those sniffles at long last, why don't we go out together one evening? The local Choral Society is doing Mozart's C Minor Mass next Saturday. I'd really love to go. I'm not a very religious person, but I adore that Mass. Would you like to come with me?"
"Yes, Frieda. I too like that work. I always think it's such a pity he didn't complete it."
Frieda was relieved as well as surprised that Miss Roberts shared this taste in common. The older woman continued, "You see, I am not just a fitness freak and a seducer of young girls! I have a soul!”
“When I listen to great music, especially great church music, I sometimes feel that something is missing from my life, you know Dolores. Do you ever get that sort of feeling?"
Dolores shook her head. There might have been a time when she would have known what Frieda was referring to, but she had long ago ceased to have these introspections. It was this world and this world alone that held all her attention. In a week or two she would return to supervising the physical education of a new generation of young women, none of whom she would ever lay a finger on.
She loved teaching and she liked Frieda a lot, but a life as a single woman lay ahead and she quite liked the idea. She could not envisage living with Frieda forever. Although her talents as a lover were amazing and her body every bit as sweet as she had imagined years ago, Dolores knew, sadly, that they were growing apart. But she had no idea how it would come about that the two finally did come to the parting of the ways.
At the concert Frieda saw the Nice Young Man again! He was sitting a few rows behind her - alone. What a shame such a handsome man did not have a lady by his side, she thought. If he had seen her, he gave no obvious sign but the perceptive and intuitive Frieda was inclined to think he had recognized her. He made no attempt to speak to her during the short interval, during which wine was consumed at the back of the church and people chatted to friends. Frieda and Dolores did not chat. They just stood together, their bodies touching, and sipped their wine, happy to be together for now.
Frieda saw another face at the concert. It was Ethelberta! The girl who been expelled from St Hilda's for knocking her out because of her jealousy over Dolores! The memory of that humiliating incident had never entirely left her. She still recalled lying on the ground, a ringing in her ears, as the furious Ethelberta stood over her, threatening to hit her again if she dared get up. Not that she could have got up! It was ten minutes before her legs would do as they were told and carry her again and even longer before she ceased being dizzy and feeling nauseous. Ethelberta had been hustled away by a couple of mistresses and Frieda had never seen her again - until now in this hallowed place, listening to the divine Mozart.
On Monday Frieda did her customary training, accompanied again by Dolores who slowed her down these days. Frieda was getting to be a class athlete by now and Dolores was rusty. Snowy was waiting for them when they got back. Frieda was relieved. The mysterious cat had been absent for a couple of days and Max had been visibly pining. Dolores did not share Frieda's delight in seeing the snow-white beauty again. But she didn't wish to upset Frieda.
Having attended to her training for the day, as was her custom on Mondays, she drove into town and parked in the multi-story car park before going to the shops. She could have the stuff delivered, of course, but she liked to get out and about - away from the house. After getting everything she needed she dropped into her favourite cafe and ordered a cafe au lait. With a shock she saw Ethelberta occupy the seat opposite her at the same table. The look in her face made it clear that Ethelberta was as infatuated with Dolores as ever and even more hostile, if that were possible, to Frieda. But she wouldn't start a scene here - would she? After all, they were adults now and knew how to behave!
"Still sucking up to Miss Roberts, I see. Great fuck, is she? You blonde stiff! I knew you fancied her at school, but you were too timid to say so, you feeble little wimp!"
"We are lovers, Ethelberta. This happened very recently and I'm sorry if that upsets you. How long have you been living around here?"
"None of your fucking business, arsehole! As a matter of fact I'm a porter at the hospital. I do lots of heavy work and I'm really strong. You can see that, can't you? You've been looking at my muscles ever since I sat down and you're still shit scared of me! Yes, I'm strong enough to flatten you again. Don't worry! No need to piss yourself in those expensive clothes! I won't you lay you out in public. But we meet in private and settle this - right?"
"Wrong, Ethelberta! Dolores and I are in love. We are two mature adults who have made a decision about each other. Brute force isn't going to settle anything. And now I must go."
She was shaken by this meeting. Ethelberta had been wearing a sleeveless top and was showing a lot of her midsection. She certainly did look strong! Strong enough to eat Frieda for breakfast!
"You surely aren't running away from fighting that girl, Frieda! You can't mean that you'll refuse to fight her for me? You do love me, don't you?" Dolores looked ready to weep. Frieda was embarrassed. She hated to let Dolores down, but was reluctant to endure another attack from Ethelberta! The last one had left her concussed for several days.
"I'd only be knocked out again. I was last time and I would be this. We two love each other, Dolores - you and I. What would my fighting Ethelberta prove?"
But reasoned argument seemed not to affect Dolores who continued to sulk. The she cheered up.
"You are a good learner, Frieda. I taught Ethelberta all she knows about karate and all that stuff, and I could have taught you to be even better if you hadn't chosen not to come to that extra curricular class. If you like, I can make you every bit as good as Ethelberta - most likely a lot better! It's as much brains as brawn, you know. You are much cleverer than she is, even if she is a lot stronger. Ask her for time to prepare and I'll arrange for you both to meet in the gym back at St Hilda's. That's it! Two old girls showing the present pupils their skills. A sort of demonstration and a fight at the same time. And, of course, the bloodshed will be kept to a minimum. I'll stop it as soon as it gets too one-sided."
"And when I lose? Will you still love me?"
"Of course, you silly! As long as you make an effort and try your best! And don't be defeatist! You'll surprise yourself - and Ethelberta - believe me!"
Frieda still loved Dolores very deeply. More than that, she hated to feel that the older woman despised her. She phoned the hospital next day and spoke to Ethelberta.
"How would you like to fight me at St Hilda's, in the gym in front of all the girls? We'd be giving a demonstration of martial arts/self defence skills as well as beating the shit out each other. It's all I'm willing to offer in reply to your challenge. Take it or leave it and it would be in two months time."
"You're on - get ready to bleed you bitch!"
Frieda put down the phone slowly and thoughtfully. She looked across the room at the mirror and tried to imagine herself with a couple of black eyes and the odd laceration or two. Perhaps the perfect face she saw now would be no more than a distant memory in eight short weeks! Oh dear! She was quite convinced that that Nice Young Man wouldn't expect a girlfriend of his to fight another girl to win his heart. He looked far too kind and gentle for that.
Perhaps being a dyke wasn't such a great life after all! Although she was forced to admit that she still got a kick out of the things the two of them did together. And she'd been asked to translate another book. And some of the tricks described in that! Wow! Frieda couldn't wait to try them out!
So she started training next day. It was decided that when Dolores left to go back to school, she would book in for classes at the local Poly. This seat of learning ran a course for ladies anxious to know how to defend themselves against the unwanted attentions of predatory men and violent partners. And, of course, she bought a massive Japanese tome on the subject. They certainly were an interesting people, thought Frieda for the thousandth time.
The visit was finally over and she took Dolores to the railway station where they lengthily and passionately kissed each other goodbye in full view of all the other passengers. Dolores had a black eye and Frieda a cut lip. The training had been vigorous and brutal, but thorough. Dolores had been right! Frieda was an apt pupil and a quick learner. She felt much less fear about her coming meeting with Ethelberta and was sure she wouldn't be humiliated again!
Frieda was late getting up the Wednesday after the Marathon. It had been on Saturday but she still felt tired. She had been placed one hundred and fifty out of three thousand who had taken part and finished and was quite pleased with herself. Only five women had been faster than she, although three of them had been a lot faster. But it was not bad for a first timer!
The Saturday before that she had met Ethelberta at St Hilda's and astounded the other woman by beating her. Mindful of the ostensibly educational purpose of the bout as being a demonstration of various fighting skills, she had avoided administering the coup de grace until she had gone through the whole gamut of moves, encountering some effective opposition from her muscular challenger, but never being seriously threatened. Then she had knocked Ethelberta out cold! Although Frieda was not to pursue this latest sport, not being a normally aggressive person, she would long remember the way Ethelberta succumbed to that final chop and hit the ground, clearly out for a very long count indeed. Revenge for that disaster all those years ago was indeed sweet! Dolores had been very right indeed when she predicted that Frieda would be a fast learner!
After the fight it had been nice to meet the other teachers, most of whom remembered her. It had been gratifying, to say the least, to bask in the admiration of the girls, many of whom asked for her autograph. One daring and obviously star-struck moppet even requested a lock of her hair! Ethelberta left as soon as she recovered and been pronounced fit to travel. Dolores had seen her off and seemed to Frieda to be comforting the defeated woman. Well, Dolores was a nice lady with a kind heart! Frieda bore the loser no ill will, now that she had avenged that dreadful humiliation.
And now the summer seemed to have arrived at last. A day in the sun lay ahead of her! After doing the day's translation she went upstairs and changed into her new bikini. It was pink and tasteful, so she thought. But Max and Snowy, who watched her changing, seemed curiously dissatisfied by what they saw. Snowy, in particular had a very effective way of registering disapproval, her tail twitching from side to side and her ears pointing back, giving her a singularly ill-tempered appearance for such a customarily good tempered cat.
And then she took a blanket out into the garden and prepared to get that rich suntan that she had been dreaming of for so long. It was a perfect day. If only Max and Snowy weren't looking so sulky! Soon she fell asleep and didn't wake up until the sun went behind a large black cloud. It started to rain and that was the end of sunbathing for that day!
Maybe that bikini WAS a bit conservative! She looked at a fashion magazine and was much taken by one design in particular. Next day she took Max, who seemed lonely after Snowy had failed to turn up, with her to the swim wear department at the local department store.
She was not able to find one exactly like that in the glossy magazine but was much taken by one little number. It was obvious that Max approved. His little tail was wagging with terrifying vigour as she took it (and him) with her into the changing cubicle. He had looked glum at the others she had tried on but obviously approved of this one. So she bought it.
The rain and clouds persisted until Friday, when she went out into the garden again, this time wearing her minuscule new bikini. Snowy and Max came out with her, looking happier than she could recall either looking before. It was clear that they approved of the display of Frieda's glowing flesh with its fine skin tone! After a couple of minutes lying on her front, she reached behind and undid the top. Since the garden was very private, with only the part nearest her house visible from any other building, she discarded the top completely after fifteen minutes. After that she turned over and lay on her back and for the first time in her life felt the sun on her naked breasts. It was a feeling more wonderful than she could have imagined. Wouldn't Dolores be thrilled to see her tanned body next time they met!
Next day was Saturday and she prayed that the fine weather would continue.
Frieda just knew, somehow, as she woke up on Saturday morning that it was going to be the hottest and sunniest day of the year so far. By the time she had returned from her resumed training run (she was entered for another Marathon in five weeks' time) she was dripping with sweat. It was a far cry from that time in the winter when she had wondered whether or not she was mad to be out at all, let alone in a more than half naked state. The cold shower was no hardship either. Then breakfast, a couple hours of translation and out into the garden dressed in her extremely daring micro bikini.
She glanced up at the neighbouring house on the other side of the high garden wall. The curtains were drawn. Funny how she had never met the owner! Max followed her out onto the lawn and found a spot under a tree. He was soon joined by Snowy. Both watched attentively as she lay down with a book. The book was another oriental sex manual. By this time she was beginning to tire of this kind of thing. Even for a healthy and fit girl like herself, some of these moves were absurd and she was sure Dolores, if she ever came to see her again, would be a most unwilling participant. And she remembered Howard and the normal straight sex she had enjoyed with him before she had blown a fuse over what seemed to her these days to be very little.
The image of the Nice Young Man came into her mind's eye time and time again. She took off the top and put it to one side. She was tired after running in all that heat. Soon Frieda was fast asleep and the watching animals started to creep silently towards her.
The bottom half of Frieda's new bikini, apart from being tiny, was secured by two bows, one on each of her womanly hips, hips which Miss Roberts had loved to cover with kisses (and the odd bite) and had fantasized over frequently during the time Frieda had been one of her star pupils. The bottom only partially covered Frieda's own bottom. The fabric stretched tightly over her firm globes.
Snowy fixed her teeth on one of the strings to the right bow and Max the other. The two creatures moved backwards, their faces bearing singularly intense expressions as they did. Soon the knot had been untied and they crept around and performed the same silent task on the other side. Meanwhile Frieda slept on.
Snowy then grasped the bikini top in her mouth and looked at Max as though she were giving him an instruction. Max sat at Frieda's hips, looking intently at the tiny bikini bottom. He gave out a series of sharp yelps and Frieda woke up and jumped to her feet.
Before she knew what was happening, Snowy had disappeared over the wall at the far end of the garden with something in her mouth. She recognized the top half of her new and very expensive bikini. Then she looked down. She was stark naked. The bottom had fluttered to the ground and was now being carried by Max into the house. She ran after him and tripped and fell. By the time she had scrambled to her feet Max was inside the house and the back door was closing. The little fiend was pushing the door shut. If he succeeded Frieda would be locked out of her own home!
And Max did succeed. With a sick feeling she heard the door click shut. She had not brought her keys out with her. She had brought nothing apart from a bottle of water and that Japanese sex manual. She felt a little frightened, but soon recovered. It was no use trying to get in the front of the house. She would be in full view of Peeping Tom Albert, to say nothing of his ghastly wife, who would make sure the whole village heard about it!
An inspection of the rear of the house revealed an open window high up in the attic. She was sure she could get through it if only she could climb up that far. A girl of her agility, an agility most pleasurably acquired during many contortionist love making sessions with Dolores, would have no trouble getting in!
‘There's a ladder in the shed. So I'll soon be back inside!’
Frieda got the ladder out of the shed and carried it up to the house. It was a very heavy ladder and seemed long enough to reach up the window. She reflected how the defeated but strong Ethelberta would have a lot less difficulty than she in carrying this weight the length of the garden. She put it in place and saw to her great relief that it reached to within inches of the window. Good! And when she was inside she would give that wicked dog such a shaking! As for Snowy, she would get no more saucers of milk and tuna steak from her. She suspected that the cat was behind this! She had led Max into bad ways! What had got into those two?
Frieda was soon nearing the open window and then things began to go wrong. The ladder moved. Looking down, she saw how far she would fall if she lost her footing.
She would have to go back down and make sure the ladder was better positioned. Frieda had been too hasty in her anxiety to get back inside the house. But when she lowered herself onto the next rung, the ladder shifted again. It really was dangerously unstable and Frieda cursed herself for her carelessness. She froze and pondered what to do next. If she fell from that height, she would surely be very badly hurt, or worse.
She must have been five minutes in this predicament when she heard a voice below her. She was saved!
The Nice Young Man had appeared just when she needed him! Where had he come from? But the fact that he was here was all that mattered.
"Hold it steady for me will you. I'm locked out and trying to get in this window. You're sure you can stop the ladder moving again?"
"Oh, Yes. I've got it firmly held now! Are you sure you will be OK? It looks a tiny aperture and the ladder doesn't quite reach. Isn't there a better solution?"
"Are you a locksmith or a professional burglar? Thought not!"
What a delightful voice she had, thought Gerald - so silvery and feminine! He held onto the ladder and Frieda scampered nimbly up until she was as near the window as she could get. She then climbed on to the sill and tried to open the window wide enough to get in. What a marvellous sight she was, an admiring Gerald said to himself. For Frieda was naked, young, lovely, female and lithe and Gerald, reclusive and shy though he was, was a man.
"Oh, shit! Holy, fucking shit!" came down those sweet tones from on high. Frieda had picked up a lot of these expressions since taking up with Dolores!
"This fucking window's burglar proof. It only opens a few inches and then it gets fucking stuck. FUCK! FUCK!! FUCK!!!!"
Frieda paused and looked down at her rescuer. The poor boy seemed shaken by her foul language. Remorse overwhelmed her.
"I'm really frightfully sorry! Please forgive me! I don't use bad words an awful lot - not really. But this is a very annoying situation You DO see that, don't you?"
"Yes. It must be very distressing! If you can't get in that way, perhaps you'd better come down? It's giving me heart failure watching you up there, although I’m sure you're safe enough with me holding the ladder and you do look incredibly fit and agile! We'll think of something when you get down. I can go home and phone a locksmith as a last resort."
“OK!. Hold the ladder steady, now! I'm coming down. It really is a godsend, you turning up! I‘ll always be jolly grateful, you know!"
And in a few seconds she was on the ground. As she got off the ladder, she put a hand on his shoulder to steady herself and stood right next to him. Scarcely a millimetre separated them and Frieda's smile of thanks lit up a face that was so very close to his. He could feel the heat from her and smell the results of her exertions. Gerald had never been this near to a young and lovely young woman since he couldn't remember when! And this young woman was the one he had admired ever since she had stepped on his foot months ago. And she was naked!
Not only was she nude, but she seemed not to be embarrassed and she looked really friendly, as though they had known each other all their lives instead of a couple of minutes! He could see that she liked him and trusted him not to take advantage of the situation.
"What do you suggest?" she asked " Maybe we'd better introduce ourselves! I'm Frieda. I take it we're neighbours?"
She extended her tiny warm hand and he grasped it, his heart doing the most incredible somersaults.
"I'm Gerald. I had no idea you lived here. We met by accident once. I expect you've forgotten, but I will remember it forever!" Had he really said that?
"No. I remember it very well indeed! I wish we'd said more than just the usual 'sorry'! I was a bit worried at the time, when I trod on your poor feet! I wouldn't hurt you now, though if I stepped on you - not with no shoes on. See! It doesn't hurt a bit, does it?"
Frieda giggled prettily, settled herself comfortably against Gerald, and went on in a confidential way to explain the reason for her distracted state on that day. One hand rested gently on his shoulder.
She continued chatting and Gerald felt her breath on his cheek.
"I had no knickers on under my skirt. I discovered that I simply had to go out that Monday and all my stuff was either being washed or had been ruined by my two pets who had been using them for some game or other. And as you can imagine, I was petrified! Just think! A sudden wind might cause a disaster! And now we meet again and I have no knickers once more! You aren't embarrassed, I hope. I'm not! I know I should be, but I’m not - not the slightest little bit. And that's odd because I'm not an exhibitionist, really - at least I didn't used to be!"
Gerald reddened and felt his body getting out of control. Frieda felt it too. She noted that Gerald, nervous or not, seemed to be well equipped down there!
"I saw you at the concert, Gerald. I was with a friend. You were alone. Do you spend a lot of time alone? You really shouldn‘t, you know - not a nice man like you!"
"Yes. I live alone, apart from Samantha. That's my cat. And you - do you live alone?"
"Apart from Max, my dog, and Snowy, a cat who comes and goes. I have a woman friend who comes and stays a lot. It's not anything to do with you, I suppose, but I feel like telling you things for some reason! I feel like telling you just about everything! I hope you don’t mind. She's by way of being my lover - or was. She is a teacher and won't be back until end of term."
If she ever comes back, thought Frieda. She had seen the way Dolores had comforted the weeping Ethelberta after she had recovered from her shock defeat. And then she looked again at Gerald and knew that she wanted him! She saw very clearly he was The One. Frieda, emboldened by her experiences of these last months of moral depravity, saw that Gerald was far too shy, even with a naked and clearly very available girl almost falling into his lap, to take the initiative.
Their future was in her hands! It was a future she was not going to let slip, just because of protocol. As Dolores had said once, she must be strong and decisive - a woman for the Modern Era of Liberation. So Frieda put her arms around his neck and drew him close - as close and as tight as she could. They kissed and Gerald wondered if this could be for real!
It was still a lovely sunny day and the couple lay down together on the rug on the lawn and made love. Frieda helped Gerald undress and folded his clothes neatly for him before allowing herself to be taken time after time until both were exhausted. They were slipping into tired sleep when Max started barking.
"Oh, Fuck! My dog's locked in the house. I know it's his own doing, but we've GOT to get the door open! Get dressed, sweetheart! Then go and phone that locksmith."
Gerald obeyed promptly. He would always obey Frieda for the rest of his life.
They both scaled the wall. Frieda, barefoot and naked though she was, did this much more nimbly than Gerald. Then from inside his home Gerald phoned the locksmith and the still unselfconsciously naked Frieda sat in his untidy lounge, mentally deciding on the many improvements she was going to make when she moved in permanently. Then Samantha/Snowy came into the room and looked at Frieda with what she could only describe as smug and triumphant satisfaction.
"I suppose this is Samantha?" said Frieda when Gerald came back and found her fondling the cat. "She's been in and out of my house for months now and my Max and she really get on so well. And now we two also get on well! Hasn't this been an absolutely super day, Gerald?"
Gerald agreed. He found some clothes for Frieda who a little reluctantly put them on. They walked around to her house and waited for the locksmith to arrive. On the way they paused frequently to kiss, especially in front of Albert and Edna's house!
"I see that slut, Frieda has trapped that fellow - you know - Harriet's nephew. The one who moved into her house and keeps to himself all the time. I wonder how she did that! He'll live to rue the day he fell into the clutches of that trollop," said Edna before dragging Albert away from the window. Frieda might be dressed, but her feet were still bare and she was showing a lot of leg. Not a good thing for Albert to see!
Six months later, the lease on Frieda's home expired but this was of no account as she was already living with Gerald. She was married a month later. Samantha no longer needed to divide her time between two homes and Max no longer suffered miseries whenever the cat was absent.
Frieda and Gerald were very happy. They produced their firstborn within a year and added four more to their brood before deciding that enough was enough. All were girls and all in time went on to be educated at St Hilda's where Miss Roberts was now Director of Physical Education. But Miss Roberts did not lust after the pupils any longer! She was too loyal to Ethelberta, who despite losing to Frieda, had won her ex-mistress's heart by the courage she showed against the surprisingly efficient and merciless blonde.
Samantha and Max were very happy and lived for many years with Frieda, Gerald and their family, who all loved them both. Finally they died. Frieda had them stuffed and put, side-by-side, in a place of honour in her lounge to remind her of how they had brought her such happiness.
Miss Roberts and Ethelberta were also very happy.
Frieda often wondered if those two animals had arranged it all between them! But that wouldn't be possible - would it? I mean - animals just aren't that clever. Are they?