Debbie’s Turn

By Matt Corton

(Story code: FF, 1st)

I raced around the bedroom gathering my things for my weekly 
visit to the Leisure Centre. I was running late as usual having 
fought my way home from work through the traffic, cooked the 
family’s evening meal and done as much cleaning up as I could. If 
only Pete would lend a hand now and then – or even the kids. And 
pigs might fly, I thought

From downstairs came the all too familiar sound of Claire and 
Tom squabbling and Pete shouting at them to shut up so he could 
hear the television. Another football match. “Fuck you, you little 
brat,” my daughter screamed at her younger brother, followed by 
Pete shouting upstairs. “Debbie, did you hear your daughter’s 
language?”

I sighed. Another round of “happy families.” Claire at fifteen was 
a raging torrent of hormones who could be told nothing. For the 
hundredth time I wondered where the sweet natured little girl had 
gone, the one who played and cuddled and told me all the time, “I 
love you mummy.” Whereas in Tom, two years Claire’s junior, I 
could see emerging a younger version of his father.

Having been orphaned at an early age, I had been brought up by a 
succession of foster parents. I was just nineteen when Pete, my 
second ever boyfriend, had impregnated me resulting in our hasty 
marriage and Claire’s delivery five months later. He was a good 
husband in some respects. He earned good wages as a car 
transporter driver and so in that sense he was a decent provider. 
Outside of work though, he proved to be a lazy man, the kind who 
helped little or not at all about the house and who believed that 
looking after the kids was the woman’s responsibility. At 
weekends he played golf and supported the town’s football team. 
Other times, well there was always something for him to do, like 
fishing and going to the social club where he drank beer with his 
pals and attended committee meetings and the like. Whereas I, as 
well as holding down a full time job, was supposed to do all the 
cooking, cleaning, shopping, laundry and child rearing and taking 
care of all the household bills and family financial affairs. 

Pete’s idea of showing me a good time was to take me with him 
to his social club on a Saturday night, buy me a few vodkas and 
twirl me around the dance floor a couple of times to the strains of 
whatever untalented and poorly rehearsed band his committee had 
booked for the evening. After that, if I was really lucky he’d take 
me home and fall asleep before insisting on his once a week shag, 
which invariably left me frustrated, waiting for him to fall asleep 
so that I could slip into the bathroom to reach a necessary, 
unsatisfactory, but better-than-nothing climax with my finger.  
Surely there was more to life than this?

I swear I’d have gone crazy if it hadn’t been for my job and the 
companionship of my workmates. We worked in the customer 
service department in the head office of a chain of department 
stores, answering letters and phone calls from customers. There 
was a gang of about eight or nine of us of various ages and 
backgrounds. We had little in common except the job and our 
Wednesday evenings when as many of us as could make it went 
along to Ladies Night at the local Leisure Centre. I looked 
forward eagerly to these evenings to relax, share a few laughs and 
for the chance to escape from home.

I rushed to the Leisure Centre and was only a few minutes late 
joining the rest of the gang in the steam room. Barbara, a happy 
divorcee in her fifties, soon had us in fits as usual, telling a tale 
about her latest flame who had overdosed on Viagra that previous 
weekend. “I said to him, I suppose I can always use it a clothes 
pole,” she completed her tale to howls of laughter. “You could 
always rent him out,” Meg, the oldest of the gang, suggested. “I’d 
have a shot. My old man lost the lead in pencil years ago,” she 
added. A raft of other suggested uses were yelled out, each more 
outrageous and ribald than the next. God, how I loved these girls!

After some time in the pool we moved onto the sauna for a while. 
At nine o’clock we usually split up for half an hour or so. Two or 
three of the younger girls went to the gym for a work out, another 
couple played table tennis, others went to use the sunbeds. 
Sometimes I joined the group in the gym to beat the living 
daylights out a punch bag – God, how I enjoyed that – or when 
we could get a court booked, Pauline and I played badminton.

Pauline was the newest member of the gang. I knew little about 
her other than that she had moved into our town a couple of 
months ago and started working with us shortly afterwards. She 
was in her early forties and lived on her own in an apartment in a 
neat new development on the western edge of the town. She was a 
large woman, easily five feet nine inches tall and well built in an 
athletic way - her broad shoulders and well muscled arms could 
certainly hit a shuttlecock. She wore her dark hair in a short-
cropped style that suited her strong features. For all her imposing 
appearance, Pauline was actually quite a shy person who usually 
merged into the background, content to enjoy the banter of the 
rest of the gang. No-one minded. There was room for all sorts in 
our gang – as long as they weren’t bloody men!

Pauline was an excellent badminton player. Strong, agile and very 
experienced. I knew that she played several times a week in local 
leagues and was a highly sought after doubles partner. I was also 
a good player, although small and thin I was very fast and 
possessed a delicate touch that could deliver killer drop shots over 
the net. However I wasn’t in Pauline’s class and she always won 
our games. She had to work hard to do so though, and was always 
kind enough to acknowledge the fact.    

Pauline and I approached our court only to find two teenage girls 
already playing on it. There had been some sort of blunder and the 
Leisure Centre staff had contrived to double book the court. 
Pauline and I were about to walk away – we could always go to 
the gym – when one of the girls suggested that we played a 
doubles match. 

The two girls were good, really good. They’d clearly been trained 
by an expert and had an instinctive understanding of each other’s 
play. Pauline and I had never partnered each other and before we 
settled into our game we found ourselves six-love down. A 
magnificent smash by Pauline from the back of the court won the 
serve back and we started to score. I nipped into the net to 
intercept with some deft drop shots while Pauline commanded the 
back of the court. 

A game of badminton is won with fifteen points as long as the 
winner is at least two points ahead. We fought back to fifteen all, 
then seventeen all, saving six match points in the process. I had 
never played so hard nor wanted to win so desperately. I flung 
myself around the court like a dervish, retrieving lost causes with 
near miraculous returns. Pauline was also playing out of skin. 

Eventually at twenty-nineteen down, we won the serve back again 
then won two quick points to reach match point. I served, a bit too 
deep. Pauline somehow returned the deep lob that came back to 
her. Our opponent tried a drop shot but I skipped in and with a 
quick twist of the wrist I guided the shuttlecock just over the net 
to win the point and the match. Twenty-two to twenty!

Pauline and I both shrieked with joy as if we’d just won the world 
championships. We met each other in the centre of the court and 
hugged, bouncing up and down in tandem. We said our goodbyes 
to our opponents and headed for the changing rooms. The match 
had lasted about forty minutes and we were about ten minutes 
behind the rest of the gang in getting changed and to the bar for a 
drink or two – the traditional finale to our Wednesday evenings.

We entered the ladies changing room still whooping and 
laughing. As we were later than usual the shower area was empty. 
I undressed hurriedly, wrapped my towel around me and went 
into one of the shower cubicles. I could hear Pauline showering in 
the adjoining cubicle.

I’m quite shy about my body - the type who hates communal 
changing rooms in clothes shop. I’d rather go somewhere else. 
How I envied those confident, self- assured women who take 
nudity in their stride, able to chat and fix their hair and makeup in 
various stages of undress. I simply didn’t feel good enough about 
myself to be seen like that. In the Leisure Centre I usually dry 
myself and get dressed in one of the individual changing rooms 
rather than in the general changing area.

This evening though, Pauline and I came out of our showers at the 
same time with our towels wrapped around us from chest to 
thighs. As we continued to talk excitedly about the game, she 
removed her towel and started to dry herself. It would have been 
rude to leave her alone in the general changing area and so I 
began to do likewise, still covering myself as much as possible 
with my towel.

“And then that final drop shot, Debbie,” she enthused. “That was 
brilliant! You were absolutely great!” She turned and grinned at 
me, her towel hanging at her side.

I couldn’t help but look at her. Her breasts were quite small for 
such a well-built woman, but beautifully proportioned with quite 
exquisite nipples, vibrant and erect from the effect of the shower 
and the towel. These were surrounded by large, dark, perfectly 
round aureoles. Her skin was creamy white with a firmness 
belying her forty-plus years. My eyes moved down her body, past 
a surprisingly slim waist which drew my gaze towards broad, 
curvaceous hips. I couldn’t prevent a short gasp escaping from me 
as I took in her smooth, hairless pubis. I had never seen anything 
so fascinating, so beautiful, so sensual. I had never seen a female 
form that exuded such a sense of pure nakedness. 

I blinked and lifted my eyes again. Pauline smiled at me, making 
it obvious that she was aware of my appraisal of her body. “I’m – 
I’m sorry,” I stammered.

“That’s quite alright,” she replied, her smile widening. “I like you 
looking at me.” I gave a nervous little giggle, feeling like a 
schoolgirl caught doing something naughty. 

“Let me see you too,” she said, extending her hand out towards 
my towel which still covered the front of my body. I gasped again 
as she took the towel in her hand, her eyes willing me to release 
my grip. I did so.

“You’re beautiful,” Pauline whispered as she gazed at my naked 
body. My blush started at the tips of my toes and surged through 
me. 

“No – No I’m not. You are,” I stammered in reply, accompanied 
by another nervous laugh. Pauline laughed too. I felt a little 
stream of water escape from my hair and trickle down my breast. 
She laughed again, raised the towel and wiped it off. In doing so 
her fingers brushed against my nipple. I felt a delicious shiver 
course through my body.

I have no idea what instinct compelled my next action, but I 
watched myself extend a trembling arm and, spreading my 
fingers, running my hand gently across her hairless pubic mound. 
The skin was perfectly smooth and beautifully soft and delicate to 
the touch. She closed her eyes for a second, opened her mouth 
slightly and ran her tongue along her bottom lip. “Not here,” she 
said, opening her eyes, taking my hand and gently placing my arm 
by my side. “Follow me home after we have a drink with the 
others.”

We dressed and joined the rest of the gang in the bar, all eight of 
us crowded around a circular table. Pauline and I squeezed in 
together between two of our friends. As we sipped our Cokes, I 
was intensely aware of her thigh touching against mine. I could 
sense my face reddening and was amazed that no-one else seemed 
to notice.  
            
After about ten minutes Pauline rose from her chair. “Goodnight 
ladies. See you all in work tomorrow,” she said. “I should go 
too,” I said to the gang. “Goodnight.” The girls shouted their 
farewells as Pauline and I left the bar.

I followed her tail lights in my beat up old Ford Fiesta, and pulled 
up in a parking space next to her smart, modern car. Neither of us 
spoke a word as I followed her to the front floor of her apartment, 
one of a small complex of eight such units over two floors. She 
inserted a key in the lock and opened the door, holding it ajar for 
me to enter behind it. She flicked a switch and soft, amber-tinted 
lighting gently swept over a small but chic living room. She took 
my hand and led me through another door into a short hallway, 
and from there into a neat, elegantly but minimally furnished 
bedroom. She flicked another switch, bathing the room in gentle 
light.

“I’m going to strip you,” she said, taking both my hands in hers. I 
felt my head swim and my knees buckle. During the drive to her 
home I craved nothing more from life than to be naked in 
Pauline’s arms and to feel her and to have her touch me 
anywhere, everywhere she wanted. And yet I was horribly 
confused, beset by a profound sense of guilt and shame at my 
thoughts of lust and longing. Not because I was betraying my 
marriage vows as they meant little to me, but because I have been 
conditioned through my Catholic upbringing that such desires are 
wicked and sinful. Anyway, I wasn’t – you know – a lesbian. 
There! I had dared to think the word. Lesbian! 

Pauline pulled me towards her and smiled. God, what a beautiful 
smile she had. Why had I never noticed this before? She motioned 
for me to raise my arms. I did so and she pulled my tracksuit top 
over my head, folded it tidily and placed it on a dresser beside 
her. “You’re so beautiful, my baby” she said, running her fingers 
through my hair, stroking my face and my shoulders. Her fingers 
ran across my back and unhooked my bra. She eased the straps 
down my arms and placed the garment alongside the top.

A fresh worry arose in my mind. I didn’t know what I was going 
to do. I mean I was hopelessly, totally inexperienced in this 
situation. “Pauline,” I managed to whisper. “I’ve never – I mean I 
haven’t….” She quietened me by a finger on my lips and making 
a “Shhh” sound.

“I know you haven’t, my beautiful baby. Don’t you worry. Let me 
do everything. You just relax. Everything’s going to be 
wonderful.” She stroked my breasts with light, delicate touches. 
Suddenly I knew that she was right. Everything was fine. Pauline 
was going to take care of me.  A feeling of exhilaration swept 
through me as I allowed my mind to empty of conscious thought 
and let pure, physical sensation take its place.

Pauline motioned me to sit on the bed. She removed my trainers 
and socks. She slid down my tracksuit bottoms and I 
automatically lifted my bum to let her pull them down. She lay 
me on the bed, now naked except for my panties.

I watched her undress. As she stripped off her clothes, the 
realisation that I would soon be touching and be touched by her 
breasts and legs and thighs and hands became all too much for me 
to bear. She was so lovely. The intense emotions I was 
experiencing overwhelmed me and I began to cry.

“Hush now, my baby,” she whispered, stroking my head and 
wiping away the tears on my face. She had joined me on the bed, 
also stripped to her panties. “Mummy understands. Let mummy 
hold you.” She cradled my head into her breasts as she rocked me 
gently back and forth, back and forth. My mouth found a nipple 
and encircled it. Some ancient human instinct compelled me to 
suck as if a new born at her mother’s teat, while all the time 
Pauline stroked my head, hair and face.

After a while I felt replete, satisfied in a curious way. I looked up 
and saw Pauline’s face, eyes closed, displaying an expression of 
rapture such as I have never seen. I leant upwards and kissed her. 
Our lips opened and our tongues met. It was as if an electric 
current had surged through me. I felt fire engulf my body, 
radiating out from my secret, most intimate parts which I could 
sense were moistening. Pauline’s kiss became more demanding 
and I whimpered in excitement as she pulled down my panties to 
my knees. She began to gently squeeze my bottom, her fingers 
flirting dangerously between my lower buttocks. Her tongue 
traced a line down my breast, across my stomach and into my 
navel. I squirmed and wriggled with pure ecstasy as her tongue 
flicked in and out, round and around the navel. She parted my 
legs slightly and her fingers traced a route around the lips of my 
labia while her tongue continued downwards, coming to rest on 
my clitoris, which had become rigid with sexual excitement, 
completely emerged from its secret hiding place. 

Pauline touched me and licked me until my first orgasm exploded 
with an intensity I would not have believed possible. Again and 
again I arched my back and cried out in joy and bliss as the world 
around me dissolved into colours that do not exist in our 
spectrum. I came and came and came again as her tongue and her 
fingers continued to take me to a plane of ecstasy outside my 
human existence. Eventually I returned back down to earth, 
slumped against her body and, once again, began to cry.

I can’t explain why I was crying, nor why my tears should turn to 
fits of laughter a minute later. I laughed with joy until Pauline 
joined in. Together, we rolled about the bed, holding and kissing 
and laughing. It must have made some sight, the two of us rolling 
about in hysterics – she naked except for her panties and me with 
my own wrapped around my knees.

Our laughter subsided and I held her face, smiling into her eyes. I 
now knew exactly what I wanted to do next. I kissed her deeply 
and began to caress her breasts and stomach. She began to moan 
with pleasure. I took off my own panties properly and reached 
down to pull remove hers. “I’ll get that,” she said, smiling. “You 
concentrate on doing exactly what you were before. Oh God! 
Yes.”

I moved my hand lower and lower and she parted her legs to give 
me passage to her secret places. As my hands passed over her 
hairless pubic region, once again a thrill raced through my entire 
body. What was it about her shaven and waxed condition that 
affected me so passionately? I couldn’t answer. All I knew was 
that Pauline was rocking and writhing under my hand as I pushed 
my fingers in and out of her moist, warm vagina, brushing up and 
down her clitoris, all the time kissing and sucking on her breasts. 
She cried out in rapture as her climax overtook her. Her body 
rocked and thrashed against me until, impossibly, the very sight 
and sound of her ecstasy brought me to a fresh climax as well and 
my cries of joys echoed hers.

Oh, can you imagine what it felt like to realise that I was capable 
of giving this wonderful, beautiful woman such pleasure? Me - 
Debbie, who for years had felt almost sexless, neither desired nor 
desiring, hopelessly inept at sexual activity? And yet here was 
Pauline responding to my touch as if I was an expert in the art of 
lovemaking. God, how blessed I felt!

We lay together, kissing and stroking. She asked me about my life 
and it occurred to me how little we knew each other even though 
we worked together and shared our Wednesday evenings. I told 
her of my loveless upbringing and largely unhappy marriage. Of 
the way my husband and kids walked all over me. I told her that I 
was a failure as a wife and mother. 

“Oh baby, I really need to take you in hand, don’t I,” she said, 
stroking my hair. “You really don’t know what a wonderful 
person you are, do you?” And her smile told me that she meant it. 

“Tell me about yourself,” I asked, propping myself up on one 
elbow. Have you always – you know – preferred women to men?

“I didn’t realise I was a lesbian until my final year in University,” 
Pauline explained. “I had had a couple of boyfriends but had 
found the sex part messy and unsatisfactory. Still, I kept on doing 
it in the theory that it would get better with experience. Instead I 
felt more and more unhappy with each dismal encounter. My 
feelings were even more confused because I had discovered 
during my teens that I could never have children, and I think this 
made the sex act even more pointless for me.”

“One Christmas holidays, I was visiting another university as a 
member of my college’s badminton team. We usually had to share 
rooms and this time was no exception. However my roommate 
from the previous year had left and I was listed to share with 
Jenny, a second year student who was new to the team. She was a 
bright vivacious, beautiful young girl and a great badminton 
player. The other difference this time was the room we were 
given contained a double bed instead of the normal twin bed set 
up.

“I slept poorly that first night. Sometime in the small hours of the 
morning I felt a hand reach over and rest on my thigh. I have to 
admit that it felt nice and so I lay there still, not wishing to wake 
Jenny up in case she moved it away. Slowly the hand crept up my 
leg and round towards my, well, you know where,” she grinned.

“Well, I’m sure you can imagine the rest. After a little while I 
knew that she was awake, she knew that I was awake and we 
made passionate love umpteen times a day for the next three days 
and nights.”

“Did you have a proper long-term relationship?” I asked

“Oh no. Jenny was a butterfly, flitting from person to person, 
spreading her own gospel of Lesbos through as much of the 
female student population of Great Britain as possible,” Pauline 
smiled as the happy memories were recalled. “I did have one long 
term relationship,” she added, her smile vanishing.

“Tell me,” I asked, propped up an elbow. “Please. I really want to 
know, to understand you.” Suddenly I knew with a certainty that 
Pauline was to become an important, a very important person in 
my life and I wanted to learn all I could.

“Her name was Megan,” she said. “I was in my twenties and 
living in London. I have no close family, and I’m not terribly 
good at making friends,” she added with a faint smile. “I’ve 
always been a loner. Even as a girl I felt different from the others 
and I grew up quite used to my own company.”

“I met Megan on a train back to London from Scotland where I 
had just spent the weekend skiing. We had the carriage to 
ourselves and as we began to talk I sensed an immediate empathy. 
Not unlike tonight, in fact, with you.” I glowed with pleasure at 
her words. “The damn train broke down and we were stranded for 
hours somewhere near Doncaster. It was freezing. We huddled 
together to keep each warm and before long we were making love 
to each other through our clothes.

“I fell in love with her that night, and she with me. There was a 
problem though. Megan was ten years older than me and married, 
despite having been aware of her sexuality from an early age. She 
had repressed her true feelings and married so as to try and lead a 
normal life - have children and so on. Her husband had been 
diagnosed with leukaemia and there was no question of her 
deserting him, so we settled for seeing each other as much as 
possible over the years. Megan’s husband went into remission 
several times, happily, and he lived for a further twelve years. He 
died four years ago – just two weeks after a car crash on the M25 
had also claimed Megan’s life. There’s been no-one else since.”

We held each other crying softly, her at the recollection of her 
loss, me for empathy with this beautiful, wonderful woman and 
her bravery and fortitude. I made a silent vow that I would find 
some way to ease her sadness – even if I could do so just a little. 

After a short while, we made love again slowly, tenderly. We 
caressed and stroked each other to a shuddering climax with one 
hand while kissing and fondling each other’s breasts with the 
other. Afterwards, the ghost of unhappiness had been exorcised 
and we chatted together cheerfully.

“Goodnight my baby,” she bid me as I left. It was about half past 
two and I was very late. I knew however that no-one at home  
would even notice. Claire and Tom would have been in their 
rooms, lost in their computers and game machines or their TVs or 
music centres until they went to sleep. Pete would have been in 
bed by about eleven, snoring heavily in preparation for another 
early start on the road with his transporter. It gave me absolutely 
no joy to realise that I wouldn’t even have to explain my late 
arrival home.

****

During the next day at work Pauline and I exchange several 
surreptitious emails. I also managed a long chat with her at our 
lunch break without raising any suspicions among the rest of the 
gang.

That night I called Pete and the kids to get the meal I had just 
prepared as normal. What was unusual was my insistence that we 
sit down together at the kitchen table to eat it.

“Aw Mum, loads of my pals are online, let me take my tea to my 
room…” My sharp “No” interrupted Tom. Claire on the other 
hand muttered phrased I could barely hear but sounded like “pain 
in the arse… bloody little Hitler..” Only Pete had the sense to 
realise that I must have a good reason.
	
“OK, listen up guys,” I said once we were all seated. “I just want 
you to know that there’s going to be some changes around here in 
future.” I took a deep breath and continued, “I’ve come to realise 
that I run myself ragged taking care of the house while you lot 
have fun. I’ve decided that it’s my turn.”

“Pete, first of all you need to understand that I hate going to your 
club. In future when you go out on a Saturday night, I’ll go off 
with one of my pals to the cinema or even out to dinner or 
whatever. End of discussion.” This wasn’t the time to tell him that 
I was no longer going to have sex with him. That would come 
later, after the kids had left the room. Pete looked at me, a 
dumbfounded expression on his face.
 
“You should all know that I’ve also joined a theatre group at my 
office. We have the chance to go and see West End shows every 
other Saturday at a discount and to stay overnight in a decent 
hotel as part of the package. Our first trip is tomorrow night. 
You’ll need to fend for yourselves for a change. “

“Aw come on Mum, who’s going to make my tea…” This was 
from Tom, my incredibly selfish son. 

“I don’t care.” I said. 

“But Mum, you always give me a lift to karate on Friday,” he 
whined. 

Ask your Dad for a lift. Or you could even catch a number 23 at 
the bottom of the road,” I said.

“A bus? Oh God no!” he said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. 

Where did I get these kids, for goodness sake? “I’ll have other 
nights out with the girls as and when I see fit, and we’re even 
talking about planning holidays together. I’m also no longer 
prepared to do all the housework. Here’s a rota for the washing 
up, the vacuuming, the shopping and so on. Anyone who doesn’t 
do their turn will have to wear dirty clothes, because I’ll use the 
time I would have spent doing that person’s laundry to do the 
chore that was missed. Is that clear?”  

I looked around and saw two horrified faces. Strangely the third 
face, Claire, had a huge grin from ear to ear. She leaned over and 
held me, her first sign of affection towards me for at least a year. 
“Way to go Mum. Don’t worry. I’ll help out,” she whispered.

“Don’t let those men run you ragged when I’m out,” I whispered 
back.

“No danger. I’m the monster she-devil from Hell, remember?” I 
cuddled my daughter, knowing that she was going to be alright.

****

Pauline and I spent Saturday afternoon shopping in a 
neighbouring town, laughing and joking together as if we had 
been best friends for years
  
Later, back at her apartment, Pauline showered and emerged from 
the bathroom wrapped in a thick dressing gown. “Come here, 
baby,” she said. “I’ve run a bath for you. Lift your arms up.” She 
took off my shirt, then proceeded to strip me naked. She lowered 
me into the bath and washed me gently but thoroughly. As her 
hands soaped and rinsed every intimate part of me I became very 
aroused, and by the time she dried me carefully with a large, 
fluffy towel I was groaning with desire. 

“Let me dress you,” she said, and proceeded to clothe me in a 
sheer, silky baby-doll nightdress with matching frilly knickers 
that she had bought that afternoon. Just a few days ago I would 
have considered these garments to be ridiculous, but right now 
they felt wonderful. I cuddled up to her on her lap, my hand on 
her breast as she fondled my bottom through my new underwear. 
My state of sexual excitement had reached such heights that I 
knew I would orgasm within seconds of her hand slipping inside 
my knickers…

“Baby” she whispered. “I love you. I’m going to take care of you 
now.” My heart leapt with joy to hear her words. I silently blessed 
whatever magical, mystical force had caused Pauline and I to 
discover within each other the ability to satisfy a need that lay 
hidden deep within our souls. Her hand glided under the elastic 
and I parted my legs slightly as her fingers sought their goal.

“I love you too, Mummy. I really do,” I replied, as my orgasm 
took me to another world.