University Crush

Entry 2 - Sex and drugs and toilet roll

In which Leli discovers both ecstasy and lesbianism thanks to being left-handed and an english class attendee

UNIVERSITY CRUSH

by Charlotte Kymberley
Imagine an alternative Bridget Jones. Now welcome to University Crush.

Leli Hetheridge is a college-based would-be uber-goddess flirting with life, lesbianism, shitty phone sex, worse drugs, 'sleep with your best friend' dilemnas and more.

Life doesn't have to be this hard, but isn't it more fun when it is? Read the new installment every wednesday...

New to UNIVERSITY CRUSH? Read it from the beginning...

"Freddie, I'll have a large glass of wine," I say to the barman in my local pub.

"Evening, love. Planning on having another glass after this one?"

"Err, I don't know, but most probably. Why?"

"If you buy two glasses of the Country Crisp Manor then you get the bottle free."

"Oh. The bottle's free, you say?"

Well, that's very cost effective isn't it? Ooh, but then I ought to be sharing it with someone... I can't just drink this on my own because I'll look like a loner with a drink problem. I stiffen my resolve. No, Leli - no-one will notice, everyone else is busy thinking about anything other than whether you're drinking alone. You go for it!

"The bottle it is then, Freddie."

Oh fuck, what have I done. Well - I don't have to have the whole bottle, do I?

I make my way over to the comfy seats that are normally peppered with friends of mine. Our cosy nook is currently empty but then it is half past two. The wine slips down my throat in a velvety cascade of confidence; I'm actually feeling like a bit of company now. Who should I call? I scroll through my address book. At least if anyone is watching me, I will appear, you know, busy, because I have lots of friends who are just waiting for me to invite them out.

A, Annie, Amy... no, one's got a child and the other is a complete slut. B... C... Cara... Celia... Celia? No, she's with her boyfriend Kaye tonight watching a film, I already checked... D... David... Delilah... Denise... Delilah. I think I'll call her.

As if summoned by some psychic powers I seem to have magically grown, Delilah walks into the pub all by herself. I first met Delilah at University on the way to English. We were seated next to one another on the first day and bonded over our mutual left-handedness. We spend a bit of time together at Uni and seem to be becoming fast friends which is great, because for me to be able to count people at Uni as true buddies when it's only October seems to be a good sign at least on the personal confidence front.

"Delilah!!" I shriek, albeit slightly too loud for an afternoon.

"Leli!" She walks towards me, eyes glistening, "How are you, Leli?"

"I'm fine, honey. Fancy joining me for a drink?"

"OK, why not? I just popped in to see if my friend Pete was around, we're supposed to be meeting later on."

"Oh, cool, sounds good." I hope he doesn't turn up. I rather fancy a bit of a dance later, and I never dance, so when I feel like dancing, I want to grasp the opportunity with two hands and twirl.

"It's Country Crisp - a fresh fruity blend of, err, wine." I sound like an advert.

"Sounds good," she says as she sits herself down, sparks up a fag and takes a sip. For the next few hours, we drink our way through another bottle of wine, some long vodkas and a couple of shots, yakking about everything from ex boyfriends to mutual mates and all the embarrassing things that have happened to us involving copious amounts of alcohol, mobile phones and aforementioned ex boyfriends. Then the door opens, and Pete strides in.

"Pete!" I shout, even though I haven't ever seen the guy in my life.

"Pete" Delilah shouts.

"Delly," he acknowledges her and moves his eyes onto me. "And whoever you are, like a drink?"

"Yesh, I rather think I would." I begin before Delilah interrupts me, "Pete, a word please?"

"Of course," he reaches out for her hand and pulls her towards the bar.

"I'll get you another vodka, babe." She turns her head to say.

Fine, I think to myself. I'm holding up well, the room isn't spinning and I'm only pleasantly tipsy when by law I should be hammered. I'd deliberately eaten a lot of bread and milk before I came out, as I'd known I would be drinking heavily and I'd read in Hot Babe that that is what one should do to survive binge drinking. Delilah and Peter remain in a tight conversation, ordering drinks and smoking. I am a social smoker, mainly amongst friends and in bars. I don't really smoke alone, or at home, although I did go through a phase of smoking an awful lot when I was splitting up with my ex boyfriend Timothy. Delilah plonks herself next to me.

"Pete, watch the bags, me and Leli need to go to the toilet."

"I've never got that, why women go to the bog in pairs."

Urgh, he said 'bog', how common. I resist the urge to correct him and say 'lavatory', its 'lavatory' Pete. Before I know it, it's come out of my mouth. Oops.

"Lavatory it is then," he chuckles to himself. I stand there defiantly ready to argue my case about the correct usage of the English language when Delilah, or Delly as she seems to have been nicknamed, grabs hold of my arm and guides me to the toilet. I sit on the toilet seat, swaying slightly as I try to wee as quietly as I can, but I seem to be mimicking Niagara Falls. I sort of drift into a dream state whilst thinking about nothing in particular - I guess sometimes I do this when I'm drunk, I think, as I pull taut the straps on my bra to maximise cleavage.

"Leli? Are you doing a poo?"

"No, I am not doing a poo, I'm fixing my bra," I fire back at her. Doing a poo, in public, as if I would. I flush and exit the cubicle to wash my hands just in time to see Delly halving what looks like a paracetamol.

"What is that?" I query. "Have you got a headache? If you have, I have these marvellous painkillers in my bag that my mother got from a homeopathic doctor, they really do work a treat."

"No, babe, they're not headache pills, they're E's."

"E's..." I say the word slowly. That's ecstasy, right?"

"Spot on... Want one?"

"Don't they kill you?"

"No, only if you're not sensible with them. The media tend to sensationalise them... Seriously, they're amazing, you'll have a great time."

Out of curiosity I accept one surreptitiously, aware of the illegality and the fact that anyone could walk in at any given moment.

"Right, we best get back to Pete, babe. Don't worry about a thing, I'm right here with you, you'll have a wicked time."

I know I should be apprehensive, but I'm not. And I don't know why.

The next half hour passes in a slightly surreal state. I notice that the colour of the room is more vibrant but I don't know if that's psychosomatic of the expectations of the drug, or if its really happening to me - who knows, but it does feel kind of good.

"Come on Leli, there's a good girl, you're going to be fine, let it all out."

No, - I'm not crying - I'm emptying my stomach contents into the toilet bowl of a pub in town that I've never been to before. The toilets seem nicer than the ones in the other pub, and the colour scheme is similar to what I'd pick for my own bathroom. Whenever I happen to get my own house which has its own bathroom.

"Leli, you ok?"

I look up at her, notice her concern, but also how beautiful she looks. Has she put more make-up on?

"Delilah." I state her name as if I'm answering a question on a game show. "I feel much, much better darling, much better for letting it all out. Much better."

I'm aware that I am rambling, but every word I speak feels like a tiny orgasm on my tongue. I'd sat down in the pub after taking the E, and after about half an hour, my stomach decided to take on a mind of its own and projectile vomit onto the soft furnishings.

"I have a bit of food poisoning," I slur to the concerned and slightly irate looking barman as Delly picks me up in one arm and Pete steadies me with the other.

"Think it's kicking in, Delly," says Pete, "Night, mate, sorry for the mess." He apologises and hands over money, no doubt for the cleaning bill. I continue to vomit on the pavement outside, and after about ten minutes and a couple of fags, a sip of water and a touch up of lip gloss, I feel like a new woman. We hail a taxi, and make our way further into town to go dancing. I can't wait to dance. My mother saw a psychic when I was younger, who told her I was destined for a life on the stage. Perhaps she's right! I've always fancied myself as a bit of a savvy mover.

"The lights are so pretty, aren't they?" I sing-song to Delilah, "I'm having such a good time, I feel so deliciously good."

"Yes, babe, it's all good."

I notice Delilah giving a knowing look to Pete who smiles back at her reassuringly.

"Let's rock and roll girls!" he says taking one of us on each of his arms, walking us into the club. The music is pumping; the beat is pounding underneath my feet. I feel like I'm experiencing a whole new level of enjoyment. I walk over to a level podium and look up to it. "You're not going up there are you Leli?" Delilah asks me.

"I sure am, give me a lift!" She puts her hand out for me to place my foot on, but before that, I remove my heels and hand them to Pete who has appeared with three bottles of water. I stumble up to the podium, where eager clubbers are happy to pull me up. I grab my shoes, put them on and I dance to the rhythm of the music, feeling as if all eyes are upon me.

"I feel sexy," I purr to the strange glittery dancer beside me. I never purr. But it feels good, in fact everything feels good, in fact good isn't the word, there must be something, some word better out there in the dictionary to describe the word good in a better sense, with more, with more, I can't think of the word... Oh I love this track. I thrust my hands into the air and sway about in time to the song.

"Set you free" warbles the singer in an uplifting trance kind of way. Freedom? I am free, I don't feel paranoid... this is a first. I feel beautiful. Everyone is beautiful. And before I know it, I'm screaming aloud how beautiful life and everyone in it is. Pete lifts me off of the podium. "You're beautiful!" I shout at him, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"No," he says, "You are." And with that he lifts me up and kisses me on the lips, slipping his tongue in and out of my mouth.

"Fuck, that's good." I say to him. And it is, he's beautiful. I'm in love.

"I need to wee!" I shout. "I need to wee, but I'll be back, you wait here for me, promise you'll wait here for me?" I am slightly aware of how desperate I must sound. Pete looks at me intently; sweat dripping off of his face. I'm sure that in any other situation I wouldn't fancy him, but there's something about him, I want him.

"I'll be here waiting. Now go for your wee, woman! Go to the lavatory!"

I can see he's attempting to be humorous. "I will go and attend to my particulars!" I shout back, and then I can't see him anymore, there are people everywhere. I walk into the ladies, and see Delly. I don't think I've ever been happier to see someone in my life, she looks amazing.

"Delly, you look amazing, your eyes, beautiful make-up."

"Thanks, let me do it for you."

I move closer to her, as she places her fingers on my eyes, her touch feels so soft. I can feel her sweet smelling breath on my face.

"Sit on here." She indicates to the surface that the basins are sunk into in front of the mirror. "I want to get a better view." I duly do as I am told, hoisting myself up onto the ledge, legs slightly akimbo. She moves between them, and pulls me close, drawing eyeliner onto my eyes.

"Would you like some glitter?" she queries.

"Yes, I would love some glitter, I love glitter."

She takes the pot out and begins to dab glitter onto my eyes. She tilts my head forward.

"I've done your eyes... now I'm going to decorate the rest of you with sparkles so we can pretend to be fairies."

"Yes, I love fairies," I murmur. She dips her fingers into the silver dust and sweeps them over my shoulders, moving her hands slowly onto my chest, down to my breasts, where I feel a tingle of lust in my groin. What's happening to me? She's not, is she? She is...

I begin to speak. "Deli..."

"Shhh... don't speak," she whispers. She moves her hands into my bra, circling her fingers over my nipples before pulling my top down exposing my body. I can see my nipples are erect, I should stop her but I don't want to. I don't want to stop her. I can hear music through the doors of the toilets, anyone could walk in, yet my senses are left behind somewhere back in the pub. I roll my eyes back as I feel her gently kiss my breasts, making her way down to my stomach and then...

"Ahhh," I'm gasping, and god it feels good... is she going down? She is!

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," I'm going to cum. I swear I'm going to cum, all over her face. I've never so much as lusted of a girl and now here I am receiving the best oral sex of my lifetime with my friend from English. I should make a joke at how good her oral is, but i'm just about to orgasm, so I think I ought to leave it until later.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh...!" I come hard, feeling the orgasm tear through my body, ravishing every erogenous zone I've got, including ones I never knew existed. She is amazing, I am a crazy woman, and I've become a lesbian!

"Oh, oh, oh, yeah, yeah, oh my god, yes." I sink my genitals into her face with satisfaction. My eyes are shut, I'm arched back against the mirror, and my heeled shoes are dug into her shoulders.

"Sorry about that." I beckon towards her shoulders. She moves her face from between my legs where her lips meet mine for a lingering kiss.

"It's ok, Leli. You can make it up to me," She says in a knowing manner.

"But how?" I query her, puzzled.

"Its my turn," she says.

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© Copyright Charlotte Kymberley Walsh

With the greatest love in the world, it'll be an honour to all concerned if you want to link to University Crush. if you steal this without the express written permission of Charlotte Kymberly, you are legally screwed.

About the author

Charlotte Kimberley has been to Uni and quit, has partied like it's going out of fashion, has had her hair every colour under the sun, and believes in bohemian life, love and happiness! As a freelance journalist she's been a celebrity columnist and an Instant Messenger sex therapist, as well as a sex columnist for MAXIM man's magazine. Like a duracell bunny or an Ann Summers rabbit, she just don't stop.
Read her 'Babe's Bible' columnRead her serialisation of 'University Crush'Read the mooky advice column

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