Free London Calling by Clare Lydon

this Ange’s coat?” I asked, holding up a black jacket not too dissimilar to mine.
    “I think so,” Julia said.
    I walked down the hall and handed the coat to Ange who was waiting in the kitchen doorway, chatting to Jason. Hugs, kisses and goodbyes followed, accompanied by more slurred smirks from a rather worse-for-wear Julia and then there really were just two.
    As we walked out to the cab, the night air threw a blanket of chill over us and we both shivered as we hurried out of the gate and into the waiting taxi. Sitting next to each other, my breathing seemed very loud and laboured although it was probably just in my head. The sky outside was jet black as I looked upwards, the stars shrouded by clouds from the London gloom.
    “It was a great night wasn’t it?” Ange said. Her voice was still too shrill but that didn’t stop me finding her attractive right now. For one brief second I wished it was Lucy sitting next to me but it wasn’t so I had to live in the moment.
    “Yeah, those guys can cook. The lamb was amazing.”
    “The chocolate cake wasn’t bad either,” she said.
    I smiled at her and she put her hand on my leg, causing a frisson right up my body. It seemed the feeling was mutual. The back seat suddenly seemed far too small for the two of us. I put my hand on top of hers and we exchanged a look as the cab turned into Old Street.
    “Jason and Andy are great, too,” Ange said, squeezing my hand. Squeaky, high-pitched still, but the booze still roaming my system wasn’t listening. My mind was playing a game with my libido now. This was going nowhere, but it could tonight.
    “Do you want to come up for a drink?” I said. I wasn’t quite sure who was asking this daring question as the words slipped out of my mouth, but it seemed to be me.
    “I’d love to,” Ange replied. No hesitation. And with that, our fate for the night was sealed. The cab pulled up and I got out and paid the driver, waving away her offer of cash. I breathed in the fresh air as the taxi drove away, pulled the keys out of my jeans pocket and opened the door, ushering Ange in but also putting a finger to my lips as I did so.
    “Flatmate,” I whispered as she walked up the stairs in her slinky heels. She nodded and did exaggerated walking on her toes up the stairs, which caused me to giggle, then her, and before long we were making far more noise than I ever intended, she of course slightly more shrill.
    I had a momentary battle with my conscience who was choosing this moment to point out that while I may be attracted to this woman, her voice and laugh repelled me. I tussled with the thought for a good few seconds before guiding her into my bedroom. I knew if we did the usual drink-and-sofa-foreplay my conscience would never shut up. Right there and then, Ange had willingly come home with me and it had been a long time since that happened.
    “I really want you,” she said, pushing me onto the bed. It was meant to be sexy I know, but once again, the voice jarred in my head. It was too late to pull back now, though – so said the rest of my body anyway.
    Within moments we were naked, but the little voice in my head wouldn’t shut up. With every kiss to my breast, stomach, inner thigh and back they were silenced, but when I had to return the favour it resurfaced. I wondered when I’d become Ms Morality.
    Ange seemed to be suffering no such qualms – when I slid my hands down her body, kissed her breasts and touched her she was wet and wide open for me – invitingly so. When I fucked her, which wasn’t hard, she came within minutes, grinding against me before sitting up with me still inside her and thrusting her tongue into my mouth.
    Nevertheless, when she laid her naked body on top of mine, I didn’t say no. Neither did I try to stop her when she sucked my breasts, scratched my back, slapped my butt or buried her head between my legs. And I was powerless to stop the resulting orgasm when her fingers slid inside me and she