Della sat in the driver's seat of the van. The door beside her slid open and Carole climbed in.

"Has she arrived?"

"Yes, she's just left the underground station and is heading to the convenience store for a pie and some cat food. I doubt she'll be in there more than ten minutes."

"Good."

Between them they had monitored Steph Clarke's journey home every evening that week. She was later than usual tonight, despite it being a Friday, but, as Carole had pointed out, that, in fact, would make it easier with the timing. There was no point turning up at the Accident & Emergency of a hospital at 5.30pm with a woman supposedly injured whilst out clubbing. Della had been confident that they could keep Steph in the van until they were ready, but Carole had been keen to get her out and on her way to her new life with as little delay as possible. Carole looked at her watch: it was now almost 8pm; late enough for a woman in her twenties to be heading off for an evening out.

"What about Jane?" Della asked. "I checked on her on Monday and she was buzzing from the weekend. She might as well have come out to that friend of hers. She certainly seems to have started kitting out her wardrobe in the right way."

"That buzz has faded a little. I looked in on her yesterday morning. I have boosted her libido a little and am beginning to getting her thinking about clubs. It'll be so much easier for her to really explore her sexuality if she is around other lesbians. For the moment it is all too rather, well, intellectual. Okay, she has fantasies, but I worry that in the end she'll just dismiss it as a 'phase'. What I have done is engineered it so that her body will give her a nice reward whenever she does something that moves her further in the direction we want. She'll get a real buzz whenever she thinks about lesbians and particularly if she imagines herself in that context. If she does something to move herself in that direction, make her look like the lesbian images of herself we fed her, as she did at the weekend when she got clothes, then she'll get another lovely burst of pleasure. That will psychologically reinforce what she has been thinking and will counteract any doubts or qualms she might have. Of course, in time, none of this will be necessary any more. As a sexually-active lesbian she'll be getting pleasure enough, I am sure."

"Well, you'll soon be working close proximity to her in the office."

"Yes, but I have got to get the ball rolling before then. If Steph disappears tonight then no-one will notice until mid-way through next week and then it will take time for them to recruit a temp, me, of course. By then I will want Jane to have been to a club a couple of times and hopefully picked up someone. Otherwise too much of it is going to be seen to come from me. You know Tom and Jake never do it this directly. The one who gets to do the sex never sees the target until they are fully ready."

"Well, we're doing it our own way. I accept what you are saying, but I am sure it will work out fine. Her libido's excited; she's got no interest in men. Once she actually starts mixing with some lesbians in the flesh, there's going to be no holding her back. She'll be begging you to suck her clit."

"Sounds fun." Carole conceded. "Still, we'll play it carefully. If she's going a bit slower than we expected then we slow down as well. There's no need to rush anything, we are well within the deadline that Tom and Jake set."

"Yes, I accept that, and we're going to have enough to occupy us for the moment with this one." Della nodded out of the windscreen to where Steph was walking along the pavement.

Once she was in a couple of metres of the van Carole slid out through the door, her appearance was now adjusted so that she appeared to be close to Steph's own age.

"Erm, hello." Carole said. In the corner of her vision she sensed Della moving passed her.

"Hello." Steph responded, seemingly happy to talk with another middle-aged women even on a gloomy street.

"I'm looking for Argyll Street. Do you know it?"

"Erm, Argyll Street. Let me think, it might …"

Della was now behind Steph and gently rested the palm of her hand on the woman's shoulder. With her attention locked on to Carole, she had probably not even felt it. Steph crumpled backwards into Della's strong arms. Carole looked around rather nervously but there seemed to be no-one about who could have even noticed what had happened. She hurried to van and slid the side door open.

Della lifted Steph as if she was no heavier than a doll and easily put her into the van. Carole scrambled in too, still looking around, clearly self-conscious about them being seen. She slid the door closed and moved up beside Della who had laid the middle-

aged woman across the bench in the back of the van. Steph looked like she was sleeping peacefully.

"Right, to work." Della said briskly. "Have you got the clothes for now?"

"Yes, the sort of stuff I guess she'd wear to a club. There's more back at her flat; the place has been empty, but the landlord had the sudden urge last week to do it up and he thinks that our lady has been a good tenant of his for the past three weeks. The keys are in here." Carole lifted up the shiny shoulder bag. "Along with her motorbike licence, national insurance card, cashpoint card, enough to easily identify her. She'll be well off. I closed all Steph's accounts and simply funnelled the money to the accounts of her new identity. I sold up her flat at a price for a quick sale, but I think it will be more than enough for our twenty-something woman; she'll remember it as an inheritance from a favourite aunt. She will also have enough to buy a flat of her own when she gets settled. The cat, well, I've not done cat mind manipulation before, but I think it's happy in the new flat and thinks of how we are going to make her mistress appear as being what she expects from her owner. The cat will still be called Marlene."

Della smiled at that, clearly impressed with what Carole had achieved. "And we've decided on Sonya for the new name for Steph?"

"Yes, Sonya Clarke, the surname's the same, the initials are the same. That helps with this kind of thing. I did not want her to have too much of a silly teenage name, so I abandoned Stacey. Sonya sounds like a strong woman, a good lesbian name."

"I agree, anyway, she can always change it."

"The flat's in Kentish Town, not far from here. She could easily have been walking back from a club in Camden. Of course no-one will have seen her there not even the CCTV, but I don't think that will be a problem, especially with all this i.d. on her."

"Well, that is excellent work, Carole, you're a true professional. Now, the next stage. I'll paint the exterior and you can work on the internal mechanics once I've done that."

"Sure." Carole took the seat opposite where Steph lay.

Della pressed her hands on Steph's clothes and they seemed to crumble at her touch. In a couple of minutes the woman was naked. She opened the van window and an eddy lifted the dust and carried it off on the wind. Then Della stood back from Steph and breathed in deeply a few times as if summoning up power. She held her hands with the palms a short way apart facing each other. Then something that looked like a heat haze seemed to ripple between them. Abruptly, she then pressed each palm onto Steph's chest, just beneath her breasts and held them there. She stood braced for a few moments with her eyes closed.

Carole watched in wonder. She, like all concubivores, could manipulate her image a little, making herself appear a different age or even ethnicity, but she had never witnessed such a radical change as this. As she looked on, Steph's saggy skin with its rather dull cast seemed to tighten and blossom. Her breasts began lifting, tightening so that they were no larger than before but certainly far more pert. Of course the face was where the greatest change came: the lines began fading and her lips became smoother. Soon she looked ten, fifteen then twenty, twenty-five years younger.

"You know she was only forty-nine?" Della said as the change began to come to an end.

"Yes, I found that out when I was looking into her account details." Carole noted. "You thought she was older?"

"Yes, yes, I did. I suppose that is what the burden of life does to a woman. I'm taking her back to when she was twenty-two. That's three years before that attack she talked about."

"Yes, she should be more optimistic and looking forward to really enjoying exploring her sexuality in London. I'm going to weave in a bit of a difference this time too. She's going to be more capable at picking out gay women. Of course, it's less of an issue these days, but having her avoid making more mistakes with straight women will save her from uprooting any of her former identity's memories just in case they pop out from where they are lurking in there. If I was more vengeful I would seek out that woman who turned on her when Steph chatted her up. Her reaction was totally overboard. You could still see the scars she inflicted even now. Steph tried to keep them hidden by her hair. Well, you could see them until you started your work."

"Oh yes, they're long gone now and soon you'll be taking away the mental ones. This is one lucky woman." Della said and then stepped back as if to admire her work. "Right then, that's the first stage complete. This is Steph as she was when she was twenty-two."

Carole looked at the young woman with long red hair and slender, toned limbs. There was an energy about her that was apparent even while she was unconscious.

"Right, like this, she'd do alright looking for love in this city, but now comes the artistic part. Age reversal is nothing much, doing something creative is the part I enjoy. We want her to be a lesbian goddess. Let's start with the hair, that's easy."

Della stroked her hands over and through Steph's hair. The long locks were soon retracting and were replaced by a spiky cut with her natural flame red shot through with brilliant white highlights; the back of her head was shaved. Then Della rubbed her hands together and stroked them along Steph's ears, and where she touched silver rings appeared. Her fingers rested along Steph's nose and on her tongue bestowing precious metal wherever they touched. A quick touch to the top of her labia gave that point one ring too, just to the left.

Now Della put out both index fingers as if she was about to paint with them and then indeed she did, with tattoos emerging where she touched. The interlinked female symbols on the left shoulder labelled Steph the lesbian she was and indicated her as one unafraid of that fact being seen. The complex tribal-flower pattern cascading down her right shoulder was simply beautiful. Della lifted Steph's body a little, and, sliding a hand beneath her back added a labrys tattoo between her shoulder blades.

"That will get her started, she can more as she chooses. Just one more little thing: the gift I wish I could give every female."

Della butted the crook of her thumb against Steph's clitoris. "Larger and more sensitive, she's going to have fun with that."

Della stood back from her handiwork. The middle-aged woman had gone and had been replaced by a fantasy lesbian, but one who was in fact real and one who would soon be ready to live the life Della felt she deserved.

"Job complete for me. I've done the wrappings, now you start on the gifts inside."

Carole smiled, clearly pleased at how this was going. As she and Della swapped places, Carole adopted the look of intense concentration similar to the appearance that the demoness had previously had. Carole linked her hands by their thumbs and locked them around Steph's forehead. Carole mouthed many words, only some of which Della could make out, as the concubivore wove a whole new life into this woman. First she stopped being Stephanie, Steph Clarke, instead she became Sonya. To match the body she now had, her age was no longer forty-nine, that was decades off, for now she was twenty-two. Her sexuality remained unchanged, but she gained stronger confidence and a desire not to compromise on life but to squeeze all the best experiences she could out of it.

Steph at twenty-two had been a confident woman, but had had all of that beaten out of her. Carole wove in a resilience and a determination so that even if Sonya encountered the same situation, she would have an strength to get back on her feet and get back at the world rather than simply subsiding into greyness. Steph had had no living relatives and Carole faced her usual difficulty of manufacturing some for Sonya. Instead she gave her divorced parents who had emigrated to different sides of the world and had lost interest in a daughter who was gay. Sonya was not resentful of that, she just accepted it as fact and instead found family in the women and the networks she built around her.

With the character in place, Carole relaxed a little and began feeding in all the day-to-

day details that Sonya needed to function. Of course she would be a bit confused after the accident, but things would come back quickly: her address, the name of her cat, her favourite Kentish Town takeaway, her PIN numbers, email passwords, where she worked, all that kind of thing; compiling those facts were second nature to Carole but she enjoyed being a perfectionist all the same. Sonya had been in London a bare three weeks, having moved in from Reading and, though she had checked out some clubs, now she was determined to get out and really engage with the scene. Above all she was looking for some hot femme to really get to grips with. Carole hesitated for a moment but then stepped back, seemingly satisfied.

"I'll check back in a couple of weeks to see how she's doing and if there's anything I've missed. Given that we are not changing her that much, simply giving her back her opportunities and fitting her out for this decade, there should not be too much jarring. The evidence of her eyes always helps and she could not really mistake herself for something else than what she is. She's going to work in a call centre. It's not that challenging for her and I picked one where the shifts allow her to arrange her social life pretty easily. Her brash attitude, the one Steph once had, makes her better suited for that kind of thing than a lot of people. You can see her now give the spiel to the customer and gesturing 'wanker' to her colleagues. Though saying that there will be a baseline of her well-mannered behaviour, so we'll see how that pans out. Anyway, Steph was popular in her day, Sonya will be too."

"Great, this is excellent work. I'm looking forward to seeing her in action, and, of course, you get your date with her."

"Oh yes, well, I cheated there. She's been pre-programmed to like me, but not to get committed, one good weekend of sex and that'll be it."

"A weekend?"

"Well, you did say one opportunity not just one bout of intercourse." Carole smiled.

"Okay, okay, I guess you're right and I'm sure she'll be getting something out of it. Are you sure I've not converted you entirely?"

"Well, some female licking and stroking is nice for a change, but I do miss a big hard cock. And don't start on me with that about dildos, it's not the same."

"Okay, okay, but I like working with you."

"Well, there's no need to stop. What are you doing for the next century?"

Della laughed. "Don't be in too much of a hurry, there's still work to be done here. We can't drive around with an unconscious naked woman in our van."

"Well, here's the clothing."

Carole pulled out a baggy pair of dark silver metallic-looking techno-fabric trousers plus a spaghetti strap top, pierced with small holes, and in purple, a colour, along with red that she had made Sonya like. There was a tight, smooth, red bandeau of a similar shade to act as her bra beneath. Then there was a denim-style jacket but in claret suede that complemented the top. Last were a pair of chunky-soled ankle boots with straps across the instep.

"Excellent choice." Della said and began the task of pulling the outfit on to Sonya.

Carole started with the purple socks and then the trousers. "I almost forgot."

Carole reached into her bag and pulled out the studded dark purple leather belt. She fixed it around Sonya's waist and linked on the chain that led to the big wallet that held all the i.d. details that she had so carefully acquired. Within five minutes Sonya was dressed so that she looked precisely as if she had come back from a club, though, equally, with her style, she could have been heading off to work.

"Wow, a good evening's work I think." Della said with real pride. "Now the tougher bit, I don't like doing this, but we need to."

The demoness concentrated again while Carole stood back. Della made light touches along Sonya's face, arms and hips. Where she touched this time, bruises blossomed and the muscles gained an ache.

"I'm keeping it light, no broken ribs or bones. She'll heal quickly. Some alcohol in her bloodstream too, just to keep it realistic, not enough carbohydrates in there either. She'll be ravenous when she wakes. This should convince the doctors it was a genuine accident. They may chide her, but she'll be on her way home pretty soon. Of course it will cover any confusion she experiences for now, but, as you say, her new 'real' memories should be soon taking over."

Della stood back once more and looked over the lesbian clubber who had had a minor accident. "You sit back here with Sonya; I'll drive. I want to take her to a particular hospital: it's not about taking revenge it's about seeing justice done."

Sonya's eyes blinked open and she gazed up at the white ceiling. She felt very spacey and a little sore especially down her left side. She found she could turn her head without too much discomfort and quickly verified that she was in a hospital. Her mouth felt dry and her stomach felt empty, but aside from the soreness nothing much else seemed to be wrong. She remembered that it was always best to not rush things when you came round so she lay there for some minutes more taking in the smells and the sounds of the ward around her.

Sonya finally sat up and was pleased to see a jug of water by her bed. They had her connected into a drip, but she somehow knew that that was standard practice and it did not hamper her movements too much. The water was refreshing but Sonya sipped it not wishing to churn up her empty stomach. She knew that the better you looked the quicker they would let you out. She was glad it was Saturday, that was unless she had been out for two days or maybe more. Surely it had been Friday night she last remembered? She'd have to call in sick on Monday and she knew Mr. Parwani would whine, but he could not complain too much as she did not get paid for the days she did not work. As long as she got back to work before he started seriously looking for her replacement then she could hold onto the job. Anyway, she did not need to sweat it, after all, she still had that cash that Aunt Emma had left her, though she wanted to save as much of that as she could for her trip to Goa next Summer and maybe a flat of her own after that.

"Nice tats." The nurse said quietly.

"Sorry?" Sonya asked as she realised she was being addressed.

The nurse standing by the next bed, flushed, embarrassed. "Sorry, did that come out loud? I do apologise. I saw them when we undressed you yesterday afternoon."

Sonya gestured the concern away. "There's no need to apologise. By the way, thanks I'm glad you like them."

The nurse seemed to hesitate and Sonya wondered if she was building up courage to say something else. Sonya knew that anyone who saw her, and was not that ignorant of contemporary society, certainly could not mistake her for anything other than a lesbian; that was something she was proud of. She guessed that by the rule of averages, at least one in ten nurses was gay, maybe more and out of her uniform, Sonya could imagine this one would look hot. Maybe the shortness of her auburn hair was not to do with hygiene issues and perhaps there were more holes in her ears than the average straight woman would have.

"Have you got any?"

The nurse turned away shyly in a way Sonya found charming but responded. "A few."

"Can you show me?"

"I think I'd get sacked if I did that; stripping off on the ward is definitely a no-no. Chatting up good looking patients comes close."

"Sounds intriguing. I don't want to get you into trouble, but it's healing me greatly just talking to you, you can tell your bosses that. Well, maybe I can see those tats of yours somewhere less like a hospital."

The nurse's eyes lit up at that, and Sonya saw that she had been on the right track.

"I'm Marianne, Marianne Faulkner." The nurse said, still a little shyly.

"Marie-Ann? Nice name." Sonya said and felt that deep in her mind it triggered off some memory that she could not grasp.

"I'm Sonya. How long am I likely to be in here?"

"Since last night, from what I can see on your notes." She picked up the clipboard hanging from the end of Sonya's bed. They've done the observations, there's nothing worse than some bruising, you'll be out after another night's sleep."

"Good, so I'll be back ready to party by next weekend. What do good-looking nurses do to relax?"

"I'm still a trainee anyway. Well, for the next four weeks: sleeping. I've got a month of nightshifts."

"Bummer."

"But, that's not forever and in a job like this you need to let your hair down." Marianne turned away and scribbled on a piece of paper which she turned and handed to Sonya.

"Call me, text me."

"Sex me." Sonya muttered to herself as she took the paper, suddenly feeling a lot better.

"Ah, Marianne, I see." Sonya read the name from the paper and tore it in half.

Without prompting Marianne handed over the pen and seemed more than happy to take the piece of paper with her details that Sonya held out for her.

"Cool. Well, I had better press on otherwise the others will be getting jealous." Marianne gave a smile that made Sonya quiver.

Sonya sat bac,k feeling good. Well, it was an ill-wind. It was a bugger that she had to wait to check out Marianne properly, but there might be some chances to wake her with a coffee and get to know each other slowly before they hit the clubs together. Having a trainee nurse along, Sonya thought, might help her stay away from being run down again.

The only topic which had been discussed at work all that week was what had happened to Steph. No-one could remember when she had last been off sick. Apparently she had been seen by someone in Security leaving on Friday evening. Jane remembered Derek piling a lot of work on her desk that afternoon, but he seemed always in the hurry to be somewhere whenever anyone asked him about it.

By Wednesday still with no sign of Steph apparently Milward had reported to the police as missing to the police on Wednesday. He had gone to the house that morning and got no reply. Strangely there was a 'Sold' sign outside, but the estate agent had no forwarding address for Steph. Jane had had a glimmer of hope that she had simply liquidated her assets and had actually fled somewhere, maybe with a fellow cat lover or knitter, there were men who liked those things. And that was a thought: where had Steph's cat gone? There was still a picture of Marlene, she had told Jane the name once, on Steph's desk. Jane trusted some kind neighbour would be looking after her or maybe she had gone with Steph. It was all mysterious.

Today, Friday, was when the police came and asked questions, but no-one could say much more than what Milward had on file. Jane told the nice policewoman who asked her what she knew, but having minimal knowledge of Steph's personal life could say little. Apparently Steph had not turned up at any of the hospitals and that fact was a relief to Jane who had feared the older woman had been mugged or hit by a car or something. Finding out she had gone, presumably with cash from the house and cat in tow, allowed Jane to retain various pleasant dreams of Steph finally out there somewhere enjoying herself.

As she walked home to her flat, Jane made a decision. It was surprising what impact the disappearance of Steph had had on her. She was still uncertain whether she would end up like her or not. No-one ever followed exactly in anyone else's footsteps but to Jane it seemed possible that in thirty years or so she would be no different, moving in such small circles that few would notice if she did disappear.

Had Steph ever had any pleasure out of life? Jane could not be certain. Maybe she had simply adjusted her horizons sufficiently that she could gain satisfaction from the small existence she had come inhabit. Jane had certainly known people who could derive great pleasure from sitting reading a book even just drinking a cup of tea. To Jane, though, it seemed to be too early for that and anyway, she decided why should she end up looking like Steph when there were so many other mature women who had a real sexiness about them? She thought about Helen Mirren and Joanna Lumley and Monica Bellucci: they would be far better role models.

Jane was conscious that her views on all of these things had changed a great deal in the past few months. Looking back she could never have envisaged even trying on a pair of leather trousers let alone buying them. Maybe Kym and Petra had been right after all, and she should have listened to her body with more faith. She was coming to accept now that all the hallucinations had been simply her mind being exasperated at her ignoring what she truly was and trying anything to get Jane to recognise that fact. Now, whenever she thought of describing herself as a 'young lesbian' she felt a real tingle. Surely that suggested that for what her body and mind needed, that was the correct lifestyle rather that the one designated 'confused, repressed, young fogy'. What she did wonder now, was could she really call herself a lesbian? She might prefer to ogle women's bodies in movies rather than men's, but there was nothing else to prove it. As a lesbian she was a virgin and she was coming to feel that she had to move beyond theory and imagining to something physical, something real. Given how much pleasure she had gained for recognising her sexuality, she could only speculate on how much better acting on it would be. She had to take that step and tonight, she decided, was to be the night.

Jane looked at the clothes lying on the bed in front of her. She found it difficult to really believe she had bought these things. It was easy to say that what she was seeing was another hallucination and if she looked hard she would see a plain pair of trousers and a blouse. However, it was when she acknowledged them for what they really were that she was rewarded with that so delicious tingle. Something was telling her that that hunger, there was no other word for it, which had been growing with in her could be satiated if she went through with this. Staying in tonight would bring no relief. She slowly unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it aside. She had picked a white bra so that it would not be so obvious beneath the white top. She pulled the top on over her head and it clung to her body snugly. That made her feel a little safer, even though she understood that it would show off her body. Her bare arms unnerved her a little, but she planned to hide them under the denim jacket. She did wonder if the leather trousers were too much, but as she slowly slid them on, she felt there was something protective about the leather that she was now loath to discard.

From what Jane had gathered, lesbians were often seen as divided into two camps: the 'butch' who appeared more masculine in her eyes and were seen as taking the dominant role in a relationship and the 'femme' who dressed in a more feminine way and were assumed to be more submissive. Yet, she knew from meeting Tori, that it was not that simple and she guessed, that as with mixed sex couples, the roles could be more complex. Rather embarrassed, she had to admit she was pitching herself to be a bit like Tori, and recognising that, not for the first time did she wonder what would have happened if she had reacted differently to her. Would she have had all the dreams and these urges if she had been less awkward that evening? Would Tori have become her girlfriend in the way that Logan, and Jane had to admit, it seemed Tori too, had hoped. Her girlfriend. That in itself seemed like a huge step. For now she was responding to urges rather than working out a life plan. If she was honest, part of her was hoping that a bit of dabbling would quieten down what seemed to be her over-active libido and in a couple of weeks things would be back to how they had been.

Jane dismissed the thoughts, it was probably not a good idea to over-analyse what she was doing. She had made a plan and it seemed to address those annoying urges that had been bubbling up inside her. To question it all now might sap her courage leaving her in a bind somewhere between fear and lust. She picked up the studded belt and knew that she was excited about wearing this. She told herself that Kym had been right, even a straight woman of her age could typically dress the way she was tonight. Jane circled the studded belt around her waist leaving it askew the way she had first seen herself wearing it in the mirrored image. She buckled it up loving the sensation of the heavy belt closing around her waist and how as she moved she felt the leather of her trousers skimming her thighs and cupping her bum. A real jolt of pleasure ran through her like some Pavlovian reward telling she had done the right thing. Again Jane was conscious of how these clothes were showing off her profile, but she acknowledged that probably her desires wanted no less.

Jane felt she was gaining momentum now and turned to the new leather boots. She pulled on first one and then the other ankle boot. They had a bit of a heel but nothing extreme. Neither did they look too masculine. They were tapered and had the o-ring harness detailing at the ankles that Jane had taken a liking to. It seemed to hint at all kinds of sexual things and yet being discreet at the same time. All that remained was the denim jacket. Part of her wanted to stand in front of the mirror now and say 'I am a lesbian' but she still did not truly believe it and realised that she could see all of this as some kind of experiment to satisfy the desire for trying the 'other side' that her body had lighted on.

Jane walked self-consciously into the club. She kept her jacket on, still rather nervous about exposing her naked arms. It all seemed a little odd, she kept on expecting to see a man, but it was just women. Some certainly looked masculine but the bulk of the women there could easily have been out at a standard nightclub or even just around the shops. Jane guessed that lesbians were not barred from the usual nightclubs anyway.

Despite these realisation, Jane found that she was heading to the bar in search of some kind of safety. She told herself that these women were no different to 'normal' women. Then again, before she never worried that a woman would come and start chatting her up the way a man might, not that they did often. Here, even though she knew it was silly, Jane could not shake the fear that every pair of eyes was measuring her up and that she would somehow be pounced upon. As she waited to be served, Jane wondered if she had done right to come here. Aside from wondering how to respond to any attempt to pick her up, she was also constantly worrying conversely that someone would march up and challenge her right to be in a lesbian club. Jane laughed nervously and reminded herself she was breaking no laws.

When the barmaid came over to her Jane ordered a large brandy. It was delivered quickly and the woman smiled warmly as if keen to reassure her. Jane guessed she could pick out a newcomer easily and, of course, the club would always be interested ensuring that such women became regulars. Jane drank the brandy faster than she would normally have done. It was not that she wanted to get drunk, in fact, she knew, that would make her more vulnerable to the kind of attention she was seeking to avoid. It was more that Jane was not certain whether she had the courage to remain here. Had she rushed things too much? Had she somehow got wrapped up in sensations that might have just been a phase in a life that certainly had lacked sexual excitement? Was she simply getting a kick out of a being a kind of sexual tourist? Was she just having a buzz for daring herself to walk close to the cliff edge of the 'other side'? Jane tried to calm herself. If she was not careful she would trigger off the hallucinations again and in turn the strange way they seemed to make other women respond to her. It could certainly be awkward if suddenly women in here saw her the way Tori had done. Jane needed to take this at her own pace, and, at the moment, that was very tentatively. She tried reminding herself that probably a lot of women in here were in relationships and were just out for an evening of socialising and not on the prowl for some newcomer to seduce.

"I like your jeans."

Jane turned, almost a little too abruptly to the sound of the voice close to her. The woman standing there was about her age. Her long, styled, dark hair was held back by an Alice band. Her dress was a brilliant white, flared at the skirt. Clearly she was affecting some kind of 1950s style. Not one that Jane thought was characteristic of lesbians. Though, saying that, she guessed any woman was free to dress the way she fancied and this one would not be alone in coming to this club in rather girly clothes.

"Erm, thank you. That's a lovely dress."

The woman simpered. Jane wondered how much it was an act to go along with the garb.

"Thank you. I'm Abigail."

"I'm…" Jane hesitated, she was slightly reluctant to use her own name. What came out was not what she had intended, but she guessed later, that she should not have been surprised. "I'm Jay."

"That's a nice name Jay. Will you buy me a drink?"

Jane could see Abigail had a handbag and, presumably, had money too, so this had to be some kind of come-on. Given that Abigail was �ber-femme, maybe this was the way they approached others. Jane had no idea what her type was in women; she certainly did not consider herself to be butch, but then again the leather trousers and the boots may have suggested that that was her take on things. She decided to go with it, Abigail seemed pleasant, not scary and maybe she would turn out to be Jane's type. Or was it Jay's? Now Jane felt a little guilty about not using her own name. Then again, she was free to call herself whatever she liked, most musicians and actors used a different why shouldn't she? And 'Jay' anyway, sounded more like a nickname; she realised it was the one she associated with being a lesbian because it was the one used in her dreams and, so, by employing it now, she was saying she was happy, eager even, to be more like the version of herself that she had seen in those visions.

Jane told herself to calm down and stop going into this bundle of analysis every time she advanced one step. She was supposed to be here to enjoy herself.

"Sure, Abigail, what would you like?"

"A white wine."

"Great, find us a table and I'll bring it over."

There, that was not too difficult, was it? In fact it was pretty easy.

Minutes later, Jane had brought over the wine and was sat with Abigail.

"What do you do, Jay?" Abigail asked as she sipped from her glass.

"Erm, I work for a publisher's."

The two of them were now at a small table and Jane realised she was relaxing a little and trying to remember all that she had read about how to make your date feel comfortable. Her 'date', that concept hammered at her mind, well it was not even really that, this was a woman she had met in a bar; this had not been planned. Conceding that though, Jane realised this was good practice for when she herself was attracted to a woman and wanted to get to know her better. Jane drank her drink a little faster feeling a kind of vertigo as if she had stepped out over the brink of her sexuality and, looking down at it, she felt rather unstable.

"That sounds interesting. Women's fiction?"

"Erm, all sorts in fact, you never know what's coming up."

"Do you get books cheap?"

"Occasionally, but there's never much that I really fancy reading. What kind of books do you like?" Jane said hesitantly, feeling her lines were rather lame.

"Well, what do you like?" Abigail bounced it back.

"Erm well, recently I've mainly been reading…" Jane quoted a comedy line from a television series, "'Hot and Bothered 4'."

"Oh yes, I love that, it's great. Could you lend me your copy, I left mine on the underground."

"Sure, I can do that."

Jane took this to be a gambit from Abigail signalling that she wanted to see Jane again and during the day and for coffee and so on.

"Do you like my dress?" Abigail asked, smiling.

"Sure, yes it's lovely, it really suits you."

"I'm glad you like it. I love your jeans they look so good on you. You look so confident, so erm, sexy in them." Abigail said rapidly as if nervous about running over the words.

Jane smiled. This seemed very much like male-female dates as she knew them, but she felt a lot less worried talking to a strange woman than she would have done to a strange man. She guessed there were women here 'on the pull' even prowling, looking for someone to sleep with and Abigail was probably in that category, but, for some reason, she realised that, now, despite her initial concerns, she found it all a lot less intimidating, despite its unfamiliarity.

Abigail moved in closer so she did not have to raise her voice to be heard clearly. Jane gave a pleasurable shiver as Abigail's warm breath came against her ear.

"Would you kiss me?"

Jane felt as if she had received a jolt. Now was the crunch moment. Now things moved beyond the too easy fantasies of smooching with some film star. Now it was real, not some close-to-real dream, but really real, all flesh and fluids. Jane hesitated but as she saw the look in Abigail's eyes she realised she could not torment the woman that way. As a holding device she gently ran her hand up the side of Abigail's face, the skin was lovely and smooth and warm and soft and it was the skin of a woman who wanted to feel Jane's lips against her own. Jane lent in that few inches really without thinking and then her lips were on Abigail's and loving how smooth they were and feeling the tongue emerging but not turning away from it, rather chasing it with her own.

Abigail moved in closer still so that her breasts butted gently against Jane's own. Jane's mind was reeling with all the physical sensations. Rather self-consciously she reached out and cupped the small of Abigail's back with her hand. They broke occasionally for air, but the kissing quickly resumed and Jane wondered if Abigail needed this as much as she had done herself. She drank in all the sensations. Abigail's skin was so soft and smelt and tasted so wonderful. Jane realised, that she was eager to see and lick and stroke and kiss the body that was beneath her gentle grasp. How had she ever imagined she was attracted to men when the female form was so much more delightful? Slightly self-consciously Jane realised that she was becoming aroused and was glad she wore leather trousers rather than a tight white dress which could have betrayed the extent of her physical excitement. Now they seemed cut off from the club, in a bubble of their passion. Jane realised she was loving it; loving the fact that she could kiss this woman as much as she liked and draw real pleasure from it with no-one looking askance at her or even commenting. Was this what she had been searching for throughout her life?

"Will you take me home, Jay?" Abigail asked breathlessly in Jane's ear.

Jane quivered as she responded with "Yes."

Just over thirty minutes later, Jane and Abigail came through the door of Jane's flat, the heat having built up by both of them feeling self-conscious in the taxi, but finally yielding to the desire to begin kissing again. Now Jane's heart beat fast as she realised that, unless she made some major gaffe, she was just minutes away from becoming a full-blown, sexually-active lesbian and that excited her.

"Let me take off your clothes." Abigail offered.

"Sure." Jane responded.

First Abigail walked to the standard lamp and switched it on. It emitted a warm glow that it seemed Abigail needed to carry out what she intended. As Jane let Abigail slip off her jacket and then raise her arms so the top could be pulled over her head, she gasped at the pleasure of being undressed. They were still in the living room and before Abigail could remove Jane's bra, Jane caught her hand and led her to the bedroom.

Jane stood with her back to the bed, imagining herself falling back on to it once Abigail had stripped her. Then her breasts were free and the sensation of Abigail's tongue over each of the already excited nipples in turn pulled Jane taut. Selfishly she wanted to grab Abigail's head and pin it to her breasts allowing her only to tongue each nipple. She was certain that would bring her an orgasm as it was. Then Abigail's hand pressed Jane's leather firmly against her own skin. Jane fantasised about leather-lined trousers and no underwear, what would that feel like? Yet even this sensation, kept back from her pussy by her panties, she realised, went beyond anything that she had felt before.

With gentle nudges Abigail encouraged Jane back on to the bed. She realised her boots and socks had to go before the jeans could be shed. With Abigail scrabbling on the floor achieving this, Jane felt impatient to see and feel the body beneath the white dress. Then, without rising from the floor, Abigail's fingers began loosing the jeans then pulling them off and, moments later, the sodden panties below. Jane gasped, she had been made naked by a woman eager to see and feel her body. That made her glow with a mix of pride and a real thrill.

"Now, you." Jane muttered lazily.

"No, not yet, I must serve you first."

Jane did not know if this was the lesbian procedure, but she was too aroused and luxuriating in the sensations too much, to protest. Then she felt Abigail's tongue run around her engorged pussy lips and Jane could think of nothing else. She had never had oral sex but when the tip of Abigail's tongue touched her clitoris she jerked involuntarily throbbing with pleasure. Her head span as if the back of it had been blown off. This was good; this was so addictive. Jane fell into the sensation as if being drawn into a warm but startling vortex. She was so hot already that it did not take much action from Abigail to send Jane into climax. She lost all control of her body and writhed and shrieked and shuddered and grunted as waves of pleasure coursed through her. How much time had passed, she did not know. Finally she sat up, feeling almost as if she was on a cushion of air. She looked around for Abigail.

"Did I do well?" Abigail asked.

Jane stood up and stood away from the bed to see Abigail crouched on the ground. There was something going on with this woman, but having given Jane such a feeling she was not going to question it. Jane stooped and, lifting Abigail's chin up, she pressed a deep kiss on her lips.

"That was, that was, just excellent. Now your turn. Off with the dress."

Abigail hesitated and Jane wondered if there was something that concerned her concealed beneath the clothes. She did not care what Abigail looked like, if she could deliver Jane such feelings then she was not going to hold back from at least trying to return the favour.

"Come on, off with the dress." Jane stepped forward and began lifting the dress from the skirt.

"What do you want me to do?"

Jane smiled, catching what Abigail's game was. Clearly the feminine garb was because she wanted to play the helpless woman, unable to resist the commands of someone stronger. Jane was uncertain if she could do this properly and was concerned there were probably rules and procedures that she was oblivious too. Then again, she recognised she was not really tough and if all it took was a few strong words to please Abigail then she could do that.

"Off with the dress! On to the bed, open up for me."

"Yes, yes, I will." Abigail said with mock nervousness.

Jane gasped as Abigail lifted the dress above her head to expose a wonderfully sleek body beneath, lightly freckled in parts. Her pubic hair seemed trimmed, shaped even and it was apparent she set much store by how she appeared. Though it was clear the activity had been raising her temperature she still gave off a flowery scent. Jane had the urge to gently take this woman and tease and stroke every bit of her. Yet, she realised it was something stronger, that Abigail wanted. Jane grasped Abigail's arm and led her to the bed, trying not to be too hard.

Abigail tumbled on to the bed as if she had been thrown. Jane straddled, in a rather unskilful way on top of her, tugging free the Alice band. Abigail lay with her arms abandoned loosely above her head on the pillow and Jane picked up the signal. She grasped the wrists together in one hand and, then with the other, stroked against the heat between Abigail's thighs. Suddenly she realised that was the first time she had ever touched another woman's sex. Despite that novelty, something in her mind told her that this was what she had been waiting for, for so long, and she kept up gentle stroking of the lips and then dared to slip her thumb inside the slick interior of Abigail. Abigail gasped and squirmed as if she was not liking this, as if it was forced upon her. Yet the uncontrolled gasps and moans that came from her showed this was indeed what she really wanted.

To support her own body better Jane took her hand away from between Abigail's legs and replaced it with her thigh. She lowered her mouth on to Abigail's and kissed forcefully. Her own breasts crushed Abigail's beneath them and Jane loved the sensation as the squirming of Abigail's mock resistance brushed her skin roughly over Jane's sensitive nipples. Now Jane was thrusting with her thigh as she had done in the hypnosis. Abigail's body clearly could not resist this pressure and, as Jane saw her eyes flutter and her shrill sounds increase, she realised that for the first time she had pushed a woman to climax. Surely now she was a proper lesbian and, if this was what being a proper lesbian was about, she was certainly going to become a life member of the club.