Read Online Killer Women by Wensley Clarkson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Wensley Clarkson
Ads: Link
world hated her and she hated it back. What was the point of letting them get to her?
By the time Barbara left school at 15, she had become a regular visitor to the centre of London. She would skip off school and take the long tube ride up to Piccadilly Circus and wander the streets gazing at the bright lights of the big city. In her regulation uniform of short hair and jeans, she even managed to scare off the pimps that normally home in on young girls like Barbara. Those bucked teeth and cold, dark, staring eyes were like a sign around her neck that said: ‘Keep Away. Danger.’
In any case, Barbara wasn’t interested in selling her body. She had already been so badly abused by those animals that she did not care if she never slept with another man. If that was the way men behaved she wasn’t interested.
But that closely cropped hairstyle and those boyish looks attracted another sort of predator. These intruders in her life did not abuse her and hurt her. They gently seduced her in a loving, caring, sensual manner. They touched her smoothly not roughly. They explored her and gave herpleasure. For the first time in her life Barbara began to discover what it was like to share her body rather than give it outright to some brute who only wanted to satisfy himself. By the time she was 18 years old, Barbara realised that the soft and caring caress of another woman was far more preferable to sex with a man.
Back in those days, she had always been the one seduced by older women. They would pick her up in clubs and bars. They would hardly make much conversation. They each knew what the other wanted. Barbara was a more than willing participant. She was experiencing something she had never come across in her entire life. A sharing experience. Giving and taking from the same person.
But as she got older those encounters got less and less frequent. It was as if the women were not interested in her because she was no longer a teenager. It seemed that the sort of women Barbara was encountering wanted ‘fresh meat’ not the old and soiled variety. And Barbara was starting to age rapidly. By the time she was 25 she looked almost 40. The toll of life was bearing down on her – and she knew it.
Barbara also realised she had to find a fresh approach if she was to continue finding satisfying female partners. She had let her hair grow duringthat period in her life. Perhaps that was the mistake? She now looked like an out and out woman for the first time in her life. Maybe that was what scared off her would-be lovers?
Barbara decided to return to her old tried and trusted ways – she shaved her hair short, almost into a skinhead style. She wore baggy shirts and those short, masculine windcheater jackets together with loose-fitting jeans that did not give away any tell-tale curves. The wardrobe was complete. Now she just had to find the girls.
Barbara was living back with her parents in Heathway by this time. The frustration of being sexually inactive was making her positively withdrawn. Now she had decided on a plan of action. She felt good about it. She was going to find girls who were just like her when she was that teenager wandering the streets of London. They were the best. The ones whom she could teach. The ones whom she could love.
‘Mum. I’d like you to meet Bobby. He’s taking me to the pictures this afternoon.’
Jackie was just 16. But she had already had her fill of boys. They only wanted to use you and abuse you. They never tried to caress you and adore you. They only cared about one thing.
Now she was introducing ‘Bobby’ to hermother. Barbara Miller’s guise as a boy was brilliantly convincing just so long as she did not open her mouth.
Barbara – or rather ‘Bobby’ – just nodded her head in acknowledgement towards Jackie’s mother. But she couldn’t help herself. She had to inspect the body of her new lover’s parent. Her eyes travelled down over her breasts and then down to her crotch, a
By the time Barbara left school at 15, she had become a regular visitor to the centre of London. She would skip off school and take the long tube ride up to Piccadilly Circus and wander the streets gazing at the bright lights of the big city. In her regulation uniform of short hair and jeans, she even managed to scare off the pimps that normally home in on young girls like Barbara. Those bucked teeth and cold, dark, staring eyes were like a sign around her neck that said: ‘Keep Away. Danger.’
In any case, Barbara wasn’t interested in selling her body. She had already been so badly abused by those animals that she did not care if she never slept with another man. If that was the way men behaved she wasn’t interested.
But that closely cropped hairstyle and those boyish looks attracted another sort of predator. These intruders in her life did not abuse her and hurt her. They gently seduced her in a loving, caring, sensual manner. They touched her smoothly not roughly. They explored her and gave herpleasure. For the first time in her life Barbara began to discover what it was like to share her body rather than give it outright to some brute who only wanted to satisfy himself. By the time she was 18 years old, Barbara realised that the soft and caring caress of another woman was far more preferable to sex with a man.
Back in those days, she had always been the one seduced by older women. They would pick her up in clubs and bars. They would hardly make much conversation. They each knew what the other wanted. Barbara was a more than willing participant. She was experiencing something she had never come across in her entire life. A sharing experience. Giving and taking from the same person.
But as she got older those encounters got less and less frequent. It was as if the women were not interested in her because she was no longer a teenager. It seemed that the sort of women Barbara was encountering wanted ‘fresh meat’ not the old and soiled variety. And Barbara was starting to age rapidly. By the time she was 25 she looked almost 40. The toll of life was bearing down on her – and she knew it.
Barbara also realised she had to find a fresh approach if she was to continue finding satisfying female partners. She had let her hair grow duringthat period in her life. Perhaps that was the mistake? She now looked like an out and out woman for the first time in her life. Maybe that was what scared off her would-be lovers?
Barbara decided to return to her old tried and trusted ways – she shaved her hair short, almost into a skinhead style. She wore baggy shirts and those short, masculine windcheater jackets together with loose-fitting jeans that did not give away any tell-tale curves. The wardrobe was complete. Now she just had to find the girls.
Barbara was living back with her parents in Heathway by this time. The frustration of being sexually inactive was making her positively withdrawn. Now she had decided on a plan of action. She felt good about it. She was going to find girls who were just like her when she was that teenager wandering the streets of London. They were the best. The ones whom she could teach. The ones whom she could love.
‘Mum. I’d like you to meet Bobby. He’s taking me to the pictures this afternoon.’
Jackie was just 16. But she had already had her fill of boys. They only wanted to use you and abuse you. They never tried to caress you and adore you. They only cared about one thing.
Now she was introducing ‘Bobby’ to hermother. Barbara Miller’s guise as a boy was brilliantly convincing just so long as she did not open her mouth.
Barbara – or rather ‘Bobby’ – just nodded her head in acknowledgement towards Jackie’s mother. But she couldn’t help herself. She had to inspect the body of her new lover’s parent. Her eyes travelled down over her breasts and then down to her crotch, a
Similar Books
The Bitter Road to Freedom: The Human Cost of Allied Victory in World War II Europe
William I. Hitchcock
