The call had come that morning, and it wasn't from the hotel. It was from the Met's Deputy Commissioner personally. He had called her boss directly, and by the time they arrived, a hand-picked team was already working the room.

Sergeant Evans knew he was watching her, trying to read her expression as she took in the scene, wondering what she would make of it all.

Forensics were already working in the room and the stretcher for the body was waiting in the corridor. The whole room was buzzing with activity.

In the middle of it all was a naked body, spread out on the mattress.

It wasn't the first time they'd seen a naked, dead woman in a hotel room. But usually, the women were younger and not as well groomed.  Generally, they were called to drug overdoses in the seedier parts of town. To be called here, to a hotel so upmarket that the staff hovered an inch above the carpet, was something new.

There was also something distinctly wrong with the whole scene.

For one thing, the way the body was lying. The duvet had fallen to the floor and several sex toys were scattered around the woman's body. She looked strangely distorted.

Evans stood beside him, one of her chiselled eyebrows disappearing beneath her black curls, a curious sparkle in her ice-blue eyes. "The concierge said the maid found her like this. There were no signs of a struggle, no one heard anything last night." She furrowed her brow. "Was she someone important? Or do we have a suspect who is someone important? Or why else is the whole circus in town?"

"I have no idea, but I think we're here to find out." DCI Harrison shrugged.

Evans nodded.

Dr Linwood, the coroner who had examined the body, pulled off one of his gloves as he turned to them. "Well, it looks like she's been poisoned. I've already told my team to bag the contents of the minibar and anything else edible in this room. Of course, she could have ingested the poison earlier and elsewhere. So far, I have no idea what it was or how quickly it killed her. But one thing I can say for sure." He looked at the toys and grinned. " Her last hours on this world were filled with fun! And since I didn't find a single wound on her body, I'm pretty sure she consented."

He pointed to her torso, "And I don't think she was alone, we found what looks like semen."

Evans took a closer look at the various toys. "She had company and used these? If she used them all, she was in for a long night." A wicked smile formed on her lips. "Maybe I should write down some types and manufacturers?"

Harrison turned to her. "What for? Do you think it was murder by dildo?"

"No, I think it would make for a nice evening with a glass of wine and Barry White." She grinned.

Linwood snorted. "I can give you a list later if you want to..." he winked at her, "reconstruct the events leading up to her murder."

Harrison cleared his throat to get their attention back, "Did you..." He nodded at the mobile phone in another plastic bag. "Get any information from it?"

Linwood grinned. "Of course. I was able to use her fingerprint to unlock the screen. No calls or texts last night. But lots of numbers and conversations. A quick scroll revealed nothing incriminating though. If she made a date last night, she didn't do it on her phone.

There was a commotion at the door and two coroners' assistants entered with the stretcher, followed by Mr Nelson.

They had spoken to Nelson earlier. The head concierge had met them at the door when they arrived and revealed the secret of why he had called the Assistant Commissioner instead of 999.

Shrugging his shoulders, he had simply said, "That's the way we do things here".

An explanation that had left Harrison even more confused.

"Sir, I have directed the coroner's van to the underground car park, the men are here to collect Mrs Smith." Unimpressed, he nodded towards the woman on the bed.

Harrison was convinced that wasn't her real name. He heard a rubber glove snap behind him and turned to see the smirking face of Dr Linwood. "Very well, I've just finished. I suppose the sooner you get rid of us the better."

Nelson nodded politely and turned his attention back to Harrison and Evans. "And I took the liberty of sending for our head of customer relations and main switchboard operator. Miss O'Riordan worked the late shift on the switchboard last night and the computer shows that she took at least one call from this room. She is expecting you in her office. "

"Thank you, Mr Nelson." Harrison looked at his sergeant, "Perhaps we should leave the crime scene to the professionals and talk to Miss O'Riordan?"

Evans nodded, noticing the unfamiliar Irish name rolling off his tongue. She should try to get him to pronounce the name of her Welsh hometown. She grinned. "Where can we find Miss O'Riordan?"

"Her office is in the basement, if you go past the bar and enter the private staircase, go down one level and it's the third door on the left. It is also marked Switchboard. I'll be back at reception, if you need anything else, please don't hesitate to call.

They watched him leave the room as the assistants began to pack the body.

"Do you need us here?" Harrison closed the notebook he was holding and looked at Linwood.

"No, go ahead, we'll finish here."

Harrison nodded. "I wonder what's wrong with her. Did you find any personal information, her real name? She can't be a Mrs Smith."

The doctor shook his head. "No passport, no driving licence, no business cards, and at first glance there was no name on her mobile phone. All her contacts are first names only."

"OK, we'll check out the phone operator. As soon as you have something for me..."

"I'll call you." Linwood finished Harrison's sentence.

The door to the switchboard room was open. Harrison stopped in the doorway and Evans almost bumped into him. He heard her gasp as she looked past him and grinned.

He had learned some time ago that they both had a very similar taste in women. And the woman sitting sideways on the comfortable sofa at the back of the room fit their type perfectly. Her shoulder-length auburn hair framed her striking profile in soft waves. Her skin was as white as porcelain, and the dark green jumper and khaki trousers contrasted with her skin tone, making her stand out in the bright, lightly coloured room.

She seemed to have chosen her clothes wisely this morning.

They stood there, rooted to the spot. Both gazing at the woman who seemed oblivious to their arrival. She had one leg tucked under. Her arm rested on the back of the cream-coloured sofa, and she was kneading her full lower lip between her thumb and forefinger, seemingly lost in thought.

Harrison cleared his throat audibly and tapped the door frame.

"Miss O'Riordan?"

"Yes?"

She jumped with a start and turned in their direction as they entered the room.

"I'm DCI Harrison, this is Sergeant Evans. I trust Mr Nelson has told you what happened?"

She stood up, her eyes wandering vaguely between them as she extended her hand in their general direction and stepped towards them.

"Yes, hello. I'm Ciara O'Riordan. Terrible what happened last night, I'm shocked!"

He smiled as he picked up the faint Irish lilt her name had suggested, but there was something about the way she looked at them, standing there with her arm still outstretched.

Evans nudged him and he crossed the room to take her hand.

Releasing his hand, she turned a few degrees to where Evans was now standing beside him, holding her hand up again, waiting for the other woman to shake it. He saw the flicker of recognition on his Sergeant's face.

"Good morning Miss O'Riordan, I'm Sergeant Bronwyn Evans." She had noticed too and was now staring deep into the other woman's amazing green-blue, almost turquoise eyes as she took her hand. Her skin was soft and silky, but her grip was firm and sure. She nodded politely and a smile flickered across her face as the Sergeant spoke.

"Please have a seat." She gestured to the sofa and armchair that formed an informal seating group.

"Are you blind?" Harrison asked cautiously as he walked over to the chair.

"Almost." She nodded as she turned to take her seat on the sofa. Evans waited until she was seated before sitting down next to her.

"Retinitis Pigmentosa, in case you want to Google it later."

Her voice was calm, and she didn't seem to mind sharing such personal information. No wonder she was a switchboard operator, Harrison thought, her timbre combined with the slight accent made for a sensual telephone voice that could probably smooth over more than one heated complaint. He nodded silently to Evans as she opened her notebook.

"What can you tell me about Mrs Smith? Mr Nelson said she phoned you?"

There was an aura about her. It seemed to Harrison that she had made up her mind about something. She took a deep breath and leaned forward to face him fully.

"I called her an escort. And it wasn't the first time."

"Go on?" Harrison shot Evans a sideways glance as she also leaned forward.

 "She was a regular. Some of our guests trust our confidentiality and our good connections. She was one of them. Occasionally, she would book a room when she was in town on business, and she knew to call me." She cleared her throat, "for company, for the night.”

"You run an escort service out of the basement of this hotel?" Harrison's jaw dropped.

"No, I don't. But I know who to call. And the fact that I am discussing this so openly with you should make it clear to you that these people are above suspicion.

"I would rather you leave it to me to clear people of suspicion."

She nodded. "This hotel serves the thinnest of the upper crust, like statesmen and dignitaries."

"That explains the Commissioner's call."

She nodded.

"I can't give you the details, but the woman I called is a personal friend of mine and she handled the actual request."

"Call her."

"She and whoever she sent to Mrs Smith are innocent, believe me."

"Call her and after we talk to her, we will decide for ourselves." Harrison looked at Evans, who had made some notes in her book.

Miss O'Riordan pulled out a smartphone and held it to her ear, her fingers touching the screen at lightning speed. Harrison could hear the phone's AI voice reading the buttons back to her, but he could barely make out a word due to the incredible speed.

"Put her on speakerphone, please."

He noticed how reluctantly she pressed the button on her phone, but the sound of the outgoing call reassured him that she had switched to speakerphone.

"Hello dear, feeling desperate again?" A smoky female voice answered the call and Ciara O'Riordan's face turned a deep crimson.

Evans chuckled.

"Ruby, I'm sitting here with the police and you're on speakerphone," she tried to hide the embarrassment in her voice.

The guttural laughter coming from the phone surprised Evans. "Need an alibi? Have you been caught joyriding again?"

Even Harrison had to stifle a grin now. Evans gave him a knowing wink. These two women seemed perfectly at ease with each other. Perhaps Miss O'Riordan was also taking advantage of the services on offer?

"Ruby, this is serious, Mrs Smith was found dead in her room this morning, and the police want to talk to you."

Harrison touched her forearm as he leaned forward to get closer to the phone. "Hello, this is DCI Harrison, I would like to ask you a few questions, can we meet somewhere?"

There was a moment of silence, then her voice filled the room again, clearer and more businesslike this time.

"Ciara, where are you?"

"My office."

"Give me half an hour and I'll be there." She ended the call without waiting for an answer.

Harrison looked quizzically at Miss O'Riordan before it occurred to him that she couldn’t see him. Evans had noticed and rolled her eyes at him.

"Miss O'Riordan, why don't we use this half hour for some more explanations from you?" Harrison leaned back.

She sighed. "Ciara, please."

"Ciara." Evans nodded and Harrison looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She had given the Irish name a Welsh twist, pronouncing it more like 'key-ra' than the pronunciation Miss O'Riordan had used herself. Ciara had immediately turned in her direction.

Sighing, she leaned back on the sofa. "Ruby is a very good friend, as you may have guessed." She paused. "Her agency provides companionship for certain guests from time to time. Rest assured, everything is legal and above suspicion." She crossed her legs carefully and straightened the fabric of her trousers.

"As I said, we serve the richest of the rich and the most powerful of the powerful. You mentioned earlier that the Commissioner was involved. I assume Mr Nelson called him directly. That is how things are done."

"That was Nelson's explanation," Harrison confirmed.

Ciara smiled. "You may have noticed that this hotel is quite hidden. We don't advertise because we don't need to. Either you know where we are, or you can't afford us. It's been this way for at least a hundred years. We're a bit like a secret society, but there's one golden rule we all follow. No one is allowed to break the law. This rule usually comes into play when politicians use our rooms. She shrugged. "Even I wasn't hired primarily for my skills, but mainly for the fact that I can't recognise our guests from the tabloids or TV."

"You mean..." Evans leaned forward now.

"I've been typecast, if you like," Ciara replied with another shrug.

"And how does the hostess service come into it?"

"The same as everywhere else. Where people stay, people have needs, even the rich and powerful. We don't take girls off the street and force them to sell their bodies. The services we hire usually provide companionship. And anything beyond that is between consenting adults.

"Of course!" Evans and Harrison said in unison.

Ciara laughed, "I see we understand each other."  She leaned forward again. "You have to understand, the management of this hotel would be powerful enough to make something like what happened to poor Mrs Smith go away. But they have actively chosen to help do the right thing. I bet there are people up at the head office calling in favours to make your job easier."

Evans looked at Harrison. "That would explain the crowd at the crime scene.”

Ciara smiled knowingly. "This hotel is the last bastion of ethics in the world of the rich and powerful. Mrs Smith was, in a way, part of this hotel's family and everyone here will work to help you find whoever is responsible."

"Miss O'Riordan, Ciara, don't you think we're capable of doing our job ourselves? Without you or the other people in this hotel telling us who to investigate, or in your case, who not to investigate?”

"True. But as much as I was typecast as the blind woman minding the telephones, you were typecast as the one who could find the murderer".

"You were not typecast as the blind woman, dear, and you know it. You were typecast as the all-powerful oracle, able to solve everyone's problems."

The voice from the door had startled them, they hadn't quite closed the door behind them when they had entered, and now there was a small but athletic middle-aged woman standing in the doorway. Even if Harrison hadn't recognised her voice, he would have known instantly that it was Ruby.

She held a file in her hand and entered the room.

"Hello, you must be DCI Harrison? And you are?" There was a protective tone in her voice.

"Sergeant Evans, ma'am."

"Ruby will do." She gave Evans a wry smile and then looked over at Ciara.

"So, what did I miss?"

This woman was used to controlling the room and the conversation. Harrison shrugged, Ciara O'Riordan's words had made him think. Contrary to all the rules of police work, he felt he should let the situation unfold. If Ciara was right, he was just a pawn in a chess game, hopefully, to be used for good.

He decided to fill Ruby in on the details of the case, which so far had been few and far between.

She confirmed that her agency had sent someone to keep Mrs Smith company, but to everyone's surprise, she told them that it had been a woman called Melody, who had been specifically requested by Mrs Smith.

Ruby had sat down on the armrest next to Ciara, keeping a protective eye on her, and now that Harrison had finished, she furrowed her brow. "This file is Melody's information, you can call her, or visit her, interrogate her. But I promise you, she left Mrs Smith safe and sound in her room. We know nothing about her either, she valued her privacy. I spoke to her myself on several occasions, she usually just wanted company, sometimes male, sometimes female. But she was one of the talking customers. I recall she was a devout Catholic. As I understand it, her marriage was basically over, her husband ignored her and all her needs, but she would never divorce him or sleep with another man".

Harrison looked at Evans and noted with approval that she had written down the gist of this monologue.

"Do you have any details about her husband?"

"I'm sorry, as I said, she was very secretive. But since she could afford this hotel and our services, there's a good chance the family is rich."

Evans turned to Harrison, "Linwood mentioned semen. Then someone must have been with her after Melody, because women don't ejaculate."

"Well, at least not semen," Ruby grinned and Ciara nudged her.

"We should check the security tapes."

"There aren't any."

"What do you mean?" Harrison looked at them, stunned. "No cameras?"

"Our guests prefer their privacy," Ciara admitted.

"We can still check the CCTV in the area." Evans tapped her pen on her notebook. "I wonder, Ruby, if, as you said, she was so Catholic she wouldn't divorce and never sleep with another man, maybe it was a criminal after all?"

Ruby shrugged. "I do not employ criminals, and I am one hundred percent sure that no one could walk in off the street and get into her room. This hotel is a very secure place. Every visitor has to be buzzed in at the reception after hours."

Ciara nodded in agreement.

"What about the sex toys?" Evans looked at Ruby, "Do you think she brought them? If she was so Catholic, would she use them on herself?" She blushed a little as she saw the look on the other woman's face. She thought even Ciara was smiling.

"They were hers. She was a very lonely woman, emotionally and sexually. I think she came here for a weekend to use them. I remember her telling me once that she was even afraid to touch herself at home."

"Poor woman." Ciara shook her head. 

Harrison's phone rang and he got up and excused himself to take the call in private.

Ruby watched him go and leaned down to Ciara's ear. She looked at Sergeant Evans, smiled and whispered something in her friend's ear.

Ciara smiled and nodded.

Evans closed her notebook a little louder than necessary. "Excuse me, but we are still conducting a police investigation here, whispering to each other is something I cannot condone."

"Sorry, it was just a personal question."

Evans opened her mouth, but at the same moment DCI Harrison re-entered the room.

"I think we're done here for now. We'll probably have some more questions soon."

Harrison hadn't sat down again, and Evans stood up too.

"Thank you for your cooperation." Harrison looked at them, "How can I reach you if I have any further questions?"

Ruby handed him one of her business cards and Ciara stood up and walked over to her desk, opening a drawer and pulling out a small card. It only contained her phone number.

"Sorry, you'll have to write my address on here yourself." She held the card up and Evans took it from her hand, clicking her pen to signal that she was ready to write.

"6B Whitehaven Mansions, Sandhurst Square, London W1."

"Quite a posh address," Evans commented with a smile.

"I may be typecast, but I'm not cheap!" She grinned.

She turned to where Harrison had been standing, he had taken a few steps towards Ruby to get the file and Ciara hadn't noticed.

"Would you keep us informed of any new developments?"

Evans and Harrison looked at each other, now for the first time it was obvious how little she saw.

Harrison had to think about the request for a moment. Then he nodded. "Yes, we will."

Smiling, she turned her head, "Thank you. And you might want to look for her husband around Winchester."

"Winchester?" Harrison scratched his stubbly chin.

"I spoke to her last night, her accent. She was from the Winchester area, and the dialect wasn't watered down like a Liverpudlian who'd lived in London for, say, the last thirty years."

"How did you do that?" He sounded stunned.

"How close was I?"

"It's been twenty-seven years." He shook his head in amazement. "We'll check the mobile for numbers and activity in the Winchester area. Thanks again, bye." He nodded to them and left, followed by Evans, who mumbled goodbye as she passed.

Ciara O'Riordan was standing in her kitchen a few hours later when the house phone rang. Her doorman announced that Sergeant Evans was there to see her, and she told him to let her up.

She was waiting at the open door when she heard footsteps approaching.

"Good evening, Sergeant." She smiled towards the approaching steps.

"Bronwyn, please."

"Off duty then, I presume?" Ciara stepped away from her door to gesture the other woman inside.

"On my way home, but I thought I'd stop by with the latest developments. But only if I don't interrupt your evening off."

"Please, come in. I guess Nelson told you about my day off?"

Evans nodded shyly. When Ciara didn't react to the gesture, she remembered: "Yes, um, yes. He did. Sorry, I seem to forget immediately that you're blind, I keep nodding".

Ciara smiled. "Come in and join me for dinner, I've just finished cooking. And I'll take it as a compliment that you forget.”

"Hmm dinner, one of my favourite words." She stepped inside and Ciara closed the door behind her.

"Please make yourself at home, I just have one very important rule, please don't move the furniture."

"For obvious reasons," Bronwyn nodded, "I'll do my best."

Ciara smiled, "I just need to finish up and put the casserole in the oven, then I'll be right with you."

The apartment already smelled of onions and garlic and something fried. It smelled delicious. Evans decided to stay in the living area of the open-plan apartment. It was better not to interrupt Ciara as she wielded sharp instruments and hot pans.

She was wandering aimlessly around the living room, looking carefully at the collection of music on one of the shelves, when she heard Ciara approaching. She turned to see her standing in the doorway, searching the room for her. For some reason, it felt strange to call out 'I'm here' in this woman's living room.

"I googled."

Ciara turned to her and smiled, a little grateful it seemed. "You googled?"

"Retinitis Pigmentosa, that's why everything's so bright in here, isn't it?"

"Yes." She walked over to Bronwyn and held up a bottle and two glasses, "Some wine while dinner's cooking?"

"Why not, I'm taking the tube home anyway."

Ciara walked over to the sofa and put the bottle and glasses on the table, "Would you like to pour, I usually use my finger to see how full the glass is and I'm afraid the wine might taste of onions then." She laughed.

"Yes, of course. But be careful, I pour like a Welsh girl." She waited until Ciara had sat down on the sofa, then handed her a glass.

"You said you had news?"

Evans sat down next to her and nodded, then remembered, "Yes. Someone high up is really putting the pressure on, the first results from the forensics team are back. The coroner is still looking for answers, but he also sent a preliminary report. It doesn't look good for that girl, Melody.”

Ciara put the glass down. "What do you mean? Didn't you talk to her?"

"She was a bit lower on the priority list, since Mrs Smith had called room service right after the log shows Melody leaving. And there was the semen stain, which suggests she had male company."

Ciara nodded. "If she called the kitchen directly, I wouldn't notice it unless I tried to call her at the same time. But then why does it look bad for Melody?"

"The coroner's report mentions a poison that takes up to an hour to kill. She could have poisoned her and disappeared before it took effect. Also, the semen stain came back as artificial semen, used in a number of personal toys."

"Oh." Ciara looked worried. "Then there's no male intruder after hours." She frowned. "What did she order in the kitchen?"

Evans smiled. "Just the breakfast the maid took to her room in the morning."

Ciara picked up her glass again and sipped her wine thoughtfully. "Does the girl have a motive?"

"Honestly? I don't know. We'll pick her up in the morning for an interview." Bronwyn took a sip as well. "Ah, I forgot to tell you! You were right!"

"I'm always right." Ciara grinned mischievously. "But what was it this time?"

"Winchester. Smith was her real name after all. Her husband was devastated when the colleagues from the local precinct visited him. He's coming up tomorrow to talk to us."

"Hm."

"It seems the Winchester colleagues were on their toes because the guy is someone high up in the Catholic Church and involved in cathedral business. And he seemed really shaken."

Ciara nodded silently. "Has the coroner found out how the poison was administered?"

"Not yet, all the food and drink in the room has been accounted for. But it is still possible that the suspect took the tainted items with him. We're still waiting for some lab results from the autopsy."

A beep came from the kitchen and Ciara put down her wine. "Dinner is ready, would you mind taking the glasses to the table? I've already set the plates."

“Sure.”

Ciara disappeared into her kitchen. Bronwyn was once again struck by the ease with which she moved around her own four walls.

She heard the oven open and within seconds a delicious smell filled the room. She waited until Ciara had put the casserole on the table and taken her seat, then sat down and placed her glass next to Ciara's plate. When she heard the sound, she fumbled with her outstretched fingers until she found the thin stemmed glass. "Thank you."

"Oh, I must thank you. I haven't had a properly cooked meal for weeks. But it seems I'm taking someone's place otherwise, why did you cook for two?"

Ciara laughed, "When I cook, I usually make enough to last at least another day. My freezer is always well stocked with home-cooked meals for the busier days."

Bronwyn watched in awe as Ciara plated her food. There was something special about her movements, they seemed so controlled, and she was completely focused on the task at hand. Bronwyn was mesmerised.

"Can I ask you something?" Bronwyn managed between bites.

"Go ahead."

"How did you do it with Harrison and Liverpool, what gave him away?"

Ciara shrugged, "Nothing really gave him away. I talk to so many people every day and I've been trained to listen for different accents to better connect with customers, it's just a thing that comes with the job."

Evans made a sound of amusement. "There's no way you're going to get me right."

"Wales would be too easy. I spent some time there." Ciara shrugged and grinned. "I can hear the North Welsh accent, but there's something else mixed in." She furrowed her brow. "Is it from all the tourists visiting Llandudno? No, one of your parents, with a surname like Evans, probably your mother. Scandinavian? Danish?"

Evans stared at her, mouth agape. "From Copenhagen, yes."

Ciara grinned proudly. "Now I get to ask one." She had finished her plate and set it aside, leaning slightly forward on her elbows.

"Shoot."

"Are you a proper lesbian, or more the bi-curious type?"

Bronwyn dropped her fork and swallowed the last bite of her aubergine. "Like. I mean." She cleared her throat. "How did you know?"

"I asked first, lesbian?"

"Yes."

A winning smile spread across Ciara's face as she stood up, glass in hand. "Are you finished?"

"Yes."

"Is the wine still in the lounge?"

"Yes."

"I see you're working on cutting down on the nodding." She grinned. "Let's get back to the bottle."

"Yes." Bronwyn chuckled, "to both."

She sat down on the sofa and watched as Ciara dimmed the lights before turning to face her. "Would you pour again?"

"Of course."

Ciara sat down close to her and handed her the empty glass.

"What gave it away?" Bronwyn held the glass out to her and when she didn't react, she carefully took her hand and placed the glass between her fingers.

"Thank you," Ciara smiled appreciatively. Nothing gave you away—at least not to me." She blushed. When Ruby joined us, she knew from your first sentence that you were my type—it's the timbre of your voice and your accent. And she noticed the way you looked at me and the way you kept crossing your legs. That's what she whispered to me."

Bronwyn felt her throat dry up and swallowed audibly.

"She told me that I turned you on. Was she right?"

Bronwyn nodded, her mouth too dry to speak.

"Are we nodding again?"

"Sorry. Yes." She swallowed again. "And yes. You turn me on." She blushed, glad Ciara wouldn't notice.

She felt a cautious hand touch her thigh and cupped it. Ciara's fingers closed around hers.

"I have to warn you, I am not very experienced."

"Explain 'not very'."

"There isn't much of a gay scene in North Wales and I broke up with my girlfriend when I moved here."

Ciara turned her head inquiringly. "Nothing since?"

Bronwyn shook her head.

"You're shaking your head, aren't you?"

Bronwyn sighed, "Sorry."

"Have you ever made love to a man?"

"Never."

Ciara leaned forward, her voice only a whisper. "What about toys or little helpers?"

"No." Bronwyn's voice was just a husky growl.

"When was your last orgasm?"

Bronwyn snorted. "It's been a while."

Ciara leaned even closer, lust in her voice, "Would you like to refresh your memory?"

Another audible swallow was all she got in response, and it was enough for her to lean in for a kiss.

The moment their lips met, Bronwyn let out a soft moan and Ciara needed no further confirmation. She broke the kiss but stayed close to the taller woman's face. She put down the glass and tried to focus on Evans’ eyes.

"Blue?"

Bronwyn nodded again, a shiver running down her spine. This time she was sure Ciara had seen her.

Kissing and undressing each other with every step, they made their way to Ciara's bedroom.

"You're beautiful," Bronwyn kissed her fiercely. "Do you want the light on?"

Ciara grinned as she searched the taller woman's lips again. "How thoughtful." Her lips curled against Bronwyn's chin. "But I have better ways of seeing you." She slowly pushed her onto the bed and crawled over her, beginning to map her body with kisses, licking and nibbling at the more sensitive areas.

"So, you're a 3D scanner too!" Bronwyn giggled and inhaled sharply as Ciara suddenly cupped her mound, parted her lips and placed a finger against her sensitive clit.

"You'd be surprised! The Welsh scene may be lacking but imagine what you can learn in an Irish Catholic school for girls."

Gently she began to massage it, dipping her fingers in and noticing that Bronwyn wasn't as wet as she'd hoped.

"Do you need more time? Or would you like some lube?"

Bronwyn sighed, embarrassed. "This is as wet as I usually get. I've never tried lubricant before."

"Really now?" Ciara rolled over to her bedside table and fumbled in the drawer.

Seconds later Bronwyn felt lubricated fingers parting her lips again. Ciara knew what she was doing and covered all her sensitive parts with the slippery liquid. Bronwyn moaned. She felt the urge to push against Ciara's hand as she felt her fingers penetrate her. She felt her tongue on her sensitive nipples, sucking and kissing her breasts as her fingers played her like a well-tuned violin. Bronwyn already felt an orgasm coming on and it was as if Ciara felt it too. She slid deeper into her, curling her fingers just as Bronwyn erupted, moaning and panting loudly and mumbling in Welsh.

Ciara kissed her way back up to her mouth. "So, you're a loud lover. I like that, but it really has been a while, hasn't it?" She grinned. Bronwyn was still panting.  "Sorry, Ciara bach."

Still kissing the taller woman, Ciara began to press herself against Bronwyn's thigh. "Bach, I know it means little one. But what was that Welsh thing you said before?" Bronwyn grinned. "I'll tell you later, but something tells me I have more pressing matters to attend to, if you'll pardon the pun."  She kissed her and rolled Ciara onto her back. "You know I have a secret superpower too." She whispered between kisses, slowly working her way down Ciara's silky body, spreading her legs to kneel between them. Her mouth close to Ciara's lips, she whispered, "You know, Welsh is my mother tongue.”

Ciara felt the words so close to her sensitive skin and moaned, spreading her legs even further as Bronwyn spoke.

The other woman chuckled. "Open sesame." She growled as she lowered herself between Ciara's legs and cupped her with her lips. Licking and sucking, she flicked her tongue over her clit in a way Ciara had never experienced before. She found her moans growing louder as Bronwyn expertly licked and tongue fucked her.

She came fast, hard and louder than she had in a long time.

Bronwyn crawled beside her and spooned her from the side. "Not so quiet yourself, are you?"

"Welsh seems to be good training for a flexible tongue." She grinned, panting.

"It's also quite interesting what one learns at a Catholic girls' school."

Ciara smiled solemnly. "Once we got over the Catholic guilt, we had a lot of fun."

"Say no more, I come from a long line of Methodists." Bronwyn smiled and hugged her.

"I see you got over it, too." She snuggled closer. Again, her hand wandered down the body of her newfound lover. "I think I would be up for another Welsh lesson."

She slipped easily into the still well-lubricated opening and felt Bronwyn pressing down on her. "Tell me what you like better, a vaginal orgasm or a clitoral?"

"Hm,"

Ciara felt her slowly grinding against her fingers.

"I've never really thought about it, both are nice, but what you just did with your fingers. That was amazing."

Ciara let her fingers slide out of her. She found her clit and began to rub it slowly. She kissed her. "I feel like I'm fucking a virgin, has no one ever touched your g-spot before?"

Bronwyn was glad Ciara couldn't see her blush as she buried her head in her shoulder. "You probably are. I've only had two partners so far and I'm beginning to realise that neither of them was a very experienced or good lover." She moaned under Ciara's touch.

"Then how come you're so good with your tongue?"

"The power of the Welsh tongue!" She found Ciara's mouth and kissed her, dipping her tongue in.

Turning a little, she pushed Ciara's legs apart with her thigh.

She broke the kiss. "And you?"

"Hm?"

"What do you like better?"

"Clitoral. Anytime. But sometimes I just need a cock, either artificial or real, then I need more time to come, but it's nice too."

"So, you'd like me to do this?" Bronwyn slid her hand between her thigh and Ciara's lips to find her clit. An instant moan was answer enough. She mirrored the rhythm Ciara was stroking on her own button.

"Kiss me, Welsh woman!" Ciara moaned, her tongue already greeting Bronwyn's.

Bronwyn moved her hand, massaging her with the lightest of touches. She saw her eyes widen as she inhaled sharply. Unable to hold on any longer, she squirmed under her hand. But Bronwyn's touch remained painfully soft and gentle.

Ciara felt the larger woman's hips move and took it as a hint to push two fingers inside her again. The moment her fingers disappeared between her folds, Bronwyn moaned.

"I'm so close," she whispered into her ear.

"Me too, I want us to come together." She felt Ciara's smile on her skin.

"Then you'll have to hurry!"

She felt the smaller woman's breathing quicken as she flicked her clit lightly and began to ride her fingers.

Ciara knew instinctively what to do, the moment she felt her orgasm building, she tilted her hand a little and found Bronwyn's soft spot again, pushing her over the edge once more. Joining them in a powerful orgasm.