Ingrid 
by Lady Luck



When I arrived home from Harlow I was depressed. Indeed I was depressed for
absolutely ages. I had gone from the height of elation to the depths of
despair in such a short space of time. I couldn't eat or sleep properly and I
couldn't think straight either. My make-up was stale and I hadn't freshened up
for days, it seemed to me. I hadn't washed my hair and hadn't even changed my
dress. I looked a mess and doubted my ability at that moment to even attract
an arsehole, never mind a beautiful woman like Ingrid. I caught a glimpse of
myself in the mirror, and that served only to confirm my suspicions. I looked
like shit and I wanted to just curl up.

Why had Ingrid left without a word? I couldn't believe that she would just
leave without telling me. She had wanted me as much as I had wanted her and
hadn't she called me "My Lisa"? There must be a rational explanation but my
brain just couldn't function in a rational way.

"Pull yourself together girl!" I told myself, "you can't go on like this, it's
ridiculous."

I forced myself to log on to my pc to check for any e-mails, although I knew I
didn't want an e-mail, I wanted a fe-mail. I wanted Ingrid. Oh joy! There was
a message from Ingrid and it was already two days old. My heart started
thumping and my hand was shaking as I went to press the keyboard to open up
the message. I was like a 6 year old chld with her first Buffy doll.

Ingrid explained that she had to return to France where, incidentally, her
parents and sister still lived, on a personal matter and was sorry that she
had been unable to tell me. She had to arrange for an urgent house clearance
and a "For Sale" sign should have been erected outside, but I swear that I
never noticed one. Anyway, I didn't really care now. Ingrid still wanted me
and I still wanted her and I was aching for her touch. She invited me to stay
for a few days and it took me five seconds to decide to accept her invitation.
In fact that's an exaggeration; it took me the time it takes to blink!

I booked a flight and packed a case and I was away the following Saturday. We
had arranged that Ingrid would meet me at the airport and she would drive me
to her house.

When we arrived we kissed like we were making up for lost time and my lips
were burning and my whole body felt like it was on fire. Our tongues touched
and we ran our hands over each other's body. That night was something else!
Simply sensational!

The next day we went to the beach and both wore rather sexy bikinis. I thought
I looked good but Ingrid looked stunning and she turned all the male heads in
Nice. It was a wonder they weren't all walking around with their faces
pointing permanently in the same direction as their arses.

We found a good spot to sunbathe and lay down together to just relax and soak
up the sun. Suddenly I felt something blocking the sun and opened my eyes to
find some idiotic man standing over me with a stupid grin on his face. "Would
you mind moving please?" I asked in my best French, "you're blocking the sun."
He didn't move but just stood there with an even bigger stupid look on his
face.

At this point Ingrid said some rather choice words to him, to which he
responded by saying that he would stand where the hell he pleased. Ingrid
jumped up and kicked his legs from under him and dumped him on the floor, arse
first, and then she stood over him and kicked sand into his face, which I
confess I found extremely amusing. It was such a gorgeous scene, I wished I'd
had my camera with me.

He got up spitting sand out of his mouth and, looking like Mr Angry, he
clenched his fist and swung at Ingrid. She grabbed his wrist and twisted it
and then sent two beautiful punches smacking into his face. "Oh knock him out
Ingrid!" I screamed in my head as I stood there watching with my heart
pounding, "knock him out, please!" Lovely Ingrid did not disappoint me and she
laid him out with a gorgeous hit.

We covered him up to his neck with sand, so that only his face was showing
with the sun beating directly down on it. So if any of you readers happened to
be in Nice last summer and you saw some guy with a face like a fried tomato
wandering the streets, that was the brainless idiot who tried to take on a
woman - and lost, badly!

After the unwelcome intrusion (although it was rather exciting from my point
of view) we gathered up our gear and went back to Ingrid's and she ran a bath,
into which she poured some essence and sweet smelling oils and then we climbed
in together.

We smiled lovingly at each other and laughed and giggled and talked about how
stupid and arrogant men were. I told her how much I had loved watching her
knock them out and she laughed and then she placed her foot just under my chin
and slid her toes right down my body until they were touching my pussy. Then
we clasped hands and pulled ourselves towards each other and I sucked her
nipples and she sucked mine and then we kissed mouth to mouth and caressed and
fondled each other's body and practically ravished each other.

We both came and I felt so fulfilled, totally and unequivocally and it
eclipsed everything that we had done before.

I asked Ingrid if she would return to England, although I already knew the
answer and she knew that I would not live in France. I was English and, for
all its ills, England was my country. I knew that this was farewell for Ingrid
and I but I was not sad and not depressed. I was richer for the love we had
shared and she had roused my feelings like no man had ever done, and had
awoken my dormant juices.

In any case, it wasn't as if she lived a million miles away from me, and I did
have a standing invitation. As for my lesbian tendencies, well I just
dismissed them.

The End

Lady Luck