Faye Wilson loves to snowboard; it gives her the freedom and adrenaline she craves and doesn't get at home. Working a ski season in Tonale, Italy, Faye and her bestfriend James befriend a group of five women who are going to change their lives forever. Back at home in Kent, England, can she handle the added pressures of family expectations, education, falling in love with someone strictly forbidden and not losing her bestfriend, all in the process of discovering who she really is and what she really wants?
Disclaimers: This is all my own creation... here for ye own reading pleasure. Similarities to real life/people/situations are entirely coincidental.
This story will and does contain scenes of graphic sex between two adult consenting women and love between couples of the same and opposite sex. If any of this is illegal in your area, or you're under age, I'd suggest you go back a page and find something that won't get you in trouble.
All comments/feedback are welcome, so please do email me any responses at email@example.com - ok, enjoy!
There is nothing on this earth quite like the feeling you get when you're hightailing down a ten thousand foot snow covered glacier with your feel strapped to a thin sheet of brightly coloured fibreglass. I can vouch for that.
It could be the sweet caress of the wind raking its icy fingers through your hair; or the thrill of being one of only a handful of people who can look down over the unrivalled beauty of the Italian mountains while weaving off piste at 9 o'clock in the morning; or maybe it's even knowing that nothing else matters in the world except you and your board in those mere minutes it takes you to reach the bottom and hop on the next button lift?
For me, I could put all those reasons and more on to the table, then wipe them off with a flick of the wrist to be replaced by the main force that drives me to spend my entire summer thousands of feet above sea level, plummeting down mountains: pure unadulterated adrenaline.
Ever since I'd been whisked away from relative tranquillity by my best friend James at age fourteen to ski in the south of France for a week with his already over-wealthy family, I knew that joy riding my dad's old race car around a field in Kent every other weekend was never going to satisfy my need for speed. Nope, since that fateful seven days in France four years ago, I'd been dragging James to Europe's highest peaks at least twice a year, improving my skill and finesse so that I could throw myself down any Black Run we encountered.
James was much better than me, but also a lot more boring. He preferred skiing with poles in the traditional sense, which he liked to call ‘civilised' in his upper class cut glass accent – whereas I grew tired of that after about 3 days. I quickly moved on to blade skis, which were much more me. I soon realised though, that having my feet strapped to two separate objects was a dangerous thing for someone who liked to give up all bodily control to the surrounding environment, so I traded my blades in for a snowboard. It was, and remains the best decision I ever made. James doesn't agree, but then again he's blinded by the fact that he's been brought up in a family of skiers who imprinted on to him at an early age that boarders are evil and shouldn't be allowed on the same slopes as them. I have to remind myself that they are nice people when they are not on snow.
Anyway, here I was a week and a half in to a six week ski season in Tonale, Italy. All I had to do was clean some dingy chalets at the foot of the mountain and a couple of gigantic log cabins at the base of the slopes and I was allowed full and free access to the entire resort until my employment contract ended. James didn't need to lower himself to my level – which was currently on all fours scrubbing someone's red wine off the blandest rug I'd ever seen – because daddy had paid for him to join me, and he was probably currently sipping grapefruit juice while buttering a croissant overlooking the picturesque views from his hotel balcony. I laughed at the thought. I love James like a brother but I could not live like him, it'd take up far too much of my day attempting to spend that much money on that much crap. No, what had drawn me and James (or James and I, as he would correct me if he was here), together originally was our shared passion of the arts. We'd been in totally different social crowds at school, but somehow we'd got chatting in our art class about tan artist named Banksy. Out of our class of 23, James and I were the only two who approved of his work and we even fronted a major debate to our snotty nosed peers who thought he was defacing their cities like they had some divine birth right to a red brick wall somewhere in Hackney. We found that we had another fundamental thing in common too: sport. Though James is partial to horse polo and lawn tennis and I much prefer football in the rain and drunken mixed hockey. Best of all, we both loved snow and falling down mountains with style. And the rest they say is history.
Two days later, and it was Saturday lunchtime in Italy. And probably England too, though I wasn't really that bothered. I was less than eager to return home this year more than previous, because I'd managed to fail my second year at college and was having to retake the entire year in order to get the grades I needed for university. It was a disaster because all of my friends were leaving for various degrees around the country in just over a month and it just plain pissed in my pocket that I knew I could have passed first time round if I'd stopped running off with James to posh bars for lunch to eye up the local talent.
James is a self professed ‘ladies man' who uses his boyish good looks, quirky use of the English language and endless cash flow to lure faux-unsuspecting blondes with big tits into his ‘boudoir of lurrrrve.'
Me? I guess I'm a little too female for the above mentioned ‘Essex girls' to fall madly in bed with, and I wouldn't want to go there anyway, but it's always fun to watch James cracking on to any girl with a pulse.
Saturday in Tonale meant recycling day. I don't mean that the owners of the chalets and cabins are highly conscious of saving the planet (though they should be, seeing as it's their snow that's gonna melt), instead, I mean that the people on holiday refresh themselves. New families and parties in every Saturday, or ever other. This meant that not only did I have to clean for an extra hour in each apartment, I had to spend a mind numbing amount (and in other words a total waste) of time folding bed sheets into pretty patterns; replacing loo roll and strategically positioning complementary shampoo bottles ready for the new guests, who within five minutes would have destroyed my handiwork and stashed the free stuff for presents on their return home.
I was just packing up my cleaning equipment inside the door of the largest log cabin when I heard the lock click open and voices outside laughing. I always hate it when people walk in on me cleaning their holiday apartments because they always presume that I'm ‘foreign' and can't speak English. I'd had some fun with this in my first ski season but after two or three times it got boring and now it just becomes rather awkward and embarrassing as I reveal that I am in fact born and bred in good old Blighty and I can speak the language fluently. Of sorts. Innit bruh?
A young, slim woman with short wavy blonde hair pushed the door open and stopped mid laugh as she saw me grinning at her, mop in hand. A look of confusion washed over her face, but was then quickly replaced with a friendly smile as she realised I was just a cleaner, and not an Italian hit woman waiting for her to drop her suitcase so she could knock her off and steal her bag full of spare clothes and underwear.
A group of four other women followed Blondie in through the door and assembled in a poorly constructed line with their belongings by their sides. Blondie stepped forward with a big friendly grin and spoke to me in a painfully slow tone.
“Hello. My name is Keeley. We're staying here for two weeks starting today, are you finished cleaning?”
I fought every urge inside of me to put on an accent and act like somehow because her words were slowed I understood the language better. It was hard, but I won the battle with myself in the end.
“Alright? I'm Faye. I was just about to leave, s'all yours.” I smiled politely and didn't bother to suppress the laugh that followed when Blondie flushed a deep shade of red.
“Sorry, Faye. We are a bit early, I guess. Thanks.” She smiled again as I pushed my trolley of products towards the door. A tall, well muscled woman with spiky black hair moved away from the group to hold the door open for me, and then winked as I walked past. I smiled nervously, looked away and kept on going, not stopping until I was back in the cleaning office behind the manager's cabin. Spike was one of those women you'd be intimidated into the back row by if you saw her at a Pink concert, and have no doubt in your minds, she'd be there on the front row with her leather jacket, tank top and tattoo of a motorbike across her chest. I laughed to myself as I changed out of my cleaning attire and into my salopettes. You can take the dyke out of the city... and she'll still manage to find another one. Now, time to board!
Sunday passed uneventful in my mind, as absolutely nothing exciting happened. Not even James bailing the entire way down a Red while I happened to be filming could make up for the fact that the slopes were now packed with instructors and their schools, thus making it impossible for me to throw caution to the wind and launch myself down a slope at full throttle. My insurance doesn't cover broken beginners on skis, only one slightly less broken intermediate on a snowboard. All in all, Sunday royally sucked, and I was looking forward to later in the week when the schools dispersed into smaller groups and the average 7 out of 10 kids got the hang of ‘to snowplough or not to snowplough?' while the other 3 sat in the cafe crying over a bruise and wasting their parents money.
In the evening, James and I went to the main bar in the resort and mixed with the locals and holiday goers alike. I didn't see Scary Mary, Blondie or their pals but I figured that their first solid day of skiing would have worn them out and they were probably sipping hot chocolate and roasting marshmallows on their open fire. Not that I was jealous, my cleaners basic accommodation was just perfect...
It was now Monday afternoon and I was racing down a small piste that connected a Red run to an opening halfway down the resorts only Black. James was following behind on his two planks of wood with a camera inbuilt into his helmet. Another thing that I found amusing about his oh-so-civilised ways – he always wore a helmet on a Black. Boring!
The part where the slopes met was partially blocked by a group of bodies all sat down listening to an instructor, so I slowed down enough that I wouldn't catch one of their boards on the way past. Due to me slowing, I was then overtaken by several other skiers, one of whom turned and grinned at me as she flew by. It was the spiky haired woman from the cabin, and she had another skier, presumably Keeley by the blonde hair flying backwards, held to her front with their arms outstretched so they looked like Jack and Rose on the Titanic. I sought out James, pointed at the two women and cried out “Look Jack, I'm flying!” then threw my arms up in the air and dramatically posed. Then I remembered he was filming, so I retrieved my dignity from where I'd flung it and stuffed it back in my pocket.
When we reached the bottom of the Black, Mr. Cautious a little after I did of course, we headed over to the ski lift that would take us to the top of the mountain so we could do the entire thing this time, instead of just half. Waiting in the queue just ahead of us were Blondie and Spike's group, all laughing and in good spirits. I slapped James on the chest with the back of my hand and nodded in their direction.
“But I thought the old lady threw it into the ocean?” I mimicked Britney Spears song in a high pitched American accent. James smirked and assumed a Ken-like role to my Barbie.
He cleared his throat, and then threw out a deep “Well, I went down and got it for ya.”
“Aw, you shouldn't have.” I flashed a grin at him as I spoke.
We doubled over laughing and then realised we'd drawn attention to ourselves through the medium of imitating Britney and her astronaut boyfriend. Several people laughed, some just stared at us like we were retards and a couple of the women from the cabin looked at us curiously. I'd have guessed they were all in their mid twenties and were all relatively attractive through their ski goggles at least, even the scary one.
At this point, Keeley was making her way back through the queue to where James and I stood. She looked a little nervous, but her natural prettiness and grace carried her to us in a manner that oozed confidence. When she reached us I could practically feel James swoon next to me. I'd bet my entire holiday that he was working out the size of her breasts through her thermals, t-shirt and ski jacket. I glanced up at him, and sure enough, you could literally see the robot behind his eyes whizzing out calculations relative to size, mass and weight. I suppressed my laugh and turned back to the approaching woman.
“Hi,” she smiled shyly as she spoke, obviously unsure if I remembered her or not. “It's-“
“Keeley, from the cabin.” I smiled in response as I finished her sentence. Better to get the ice broken now, and I was far too curious about what she wanted to say to me.
She laughed, a quiet melodic noise that made me feel a bit weak at the knees, so god knows what it was doing to James. She suddenly looked more confident now she knew I recognised her.
“Yeah, that's me! My friends and I were wondering if you wanted to join our group for the Black? Two of them haven't got much experience so it'd be cool to have extra numbers and you both looked more than capable coming off that Red.” She emphasized the compliment at the end and now the weakness had turned to white noise in my head. Keeley wasn't my type at all, and I was pretty sure her and the spiky haired one had something going on, but she was one of those women who just knew how to charm the hell out of anyone or anything and I knew if she had me hooked then James would be a quivering mess on the floor if she said another word. I snapped out of the reverie I was under and nodded dumbly, hoping she wouldn't think it was a mistake to invite us. She glanced from me to James and back with a knowing grin on her face, and then said simply “Good, come on then.” She turned and tiptoed back to her group.
As I reached the women we were joining, and having to hold James back like a rabid dog on a lead, I realised that Keeley wasn't the most attractive of the holidaying friends, which was saying something. A tall woman with dark blonde hair in thick curls stood staring at us with an amused expression on her stoic features; next to her was a slightly shorter brunette who was naturally slim and athletic looking and who's attention was completely on James as we approached. The woman with the short black hair was behind them, removing snow from the clasps on her skis in such a stereotypically dykey way that it made me bite my bottom lip so I didn't laugh out loud. The fifth and final woman in the group was partially hidden from my view, but I could clearly see her face, and she was absolutely stunning. I couldn't decide if I thought she was like perfection because of her caramel complexion, her dark hair and eyes or the fact that she looked like she totally didn't realise how attractive she was.
Keeley had continued through to the short haired one at the back, where she wrapped an arm casually around the larger woman's waist, causing her to straighten up and look directly at us. A slow grin spread across her face as she looked from me, to James, and back again.
“You can look, but you can't touch.” She laughed and then winked at me again. I could have died with embarrassment if Keeley hadn't slapped the larger woman lightly on the stomach and whispered something to her that sounded like ‘Be nice.”
The short blonde woman beamed up at us from her partner's loose embrace and began the introductions as we stood outside the gondola.
“This is Beth,” she said, squeezing the woman she was holding on to. A smile and a nod of the head was her acknowledgement. “This,” a hand flew out and aimed at the brunette “is Rachel.” Rachel waved enthusiastically before stating that she wasn't that great at skiing and would James kindly keep an eye on her seeing as he was on skis too. I saw James give himself a mental high five as he agreed happily, ego boosted for the day.
“The curly haired one,” a small glare from the tallest woman in the group was aimed at Keeley's description of her friend, “is Ephiny. Eph for short. And next to her is the lovely Lara. Everyone, this is Faye and...?”
“James Hadley the third.” James offered; chin slightly up in the air. Beth snorted and made a comment under her breath which I probably would have agreed with if I'd known what she said. James could be such an ass when he thought he was onto a winner with a girl. What he had completely failed to notice was that Rachel was wearing an engagement ring and had asked for his help in total innocence. I refrained from mentioning this to him as we collected our equipment and climbed into a gondola which would take us up to the top of the glacier.
The ride to the top of the mountain took around ten minutes, and with James eagerly conversing with a now slightly disinterested Rachel, I decided to find out more about the women we were skiing with. Ephiny and Lara were still to speak to me or James; they had spoken to each other quietly but had not said anything for the group to take on board. I began to wonder if they were together, or had some kind of strained relationship that went further than being friends, or was trying to get back to that plateau. Looking over at Beth and Keeley, who were content to sit next to each other with just one finger loosely holding it's opposite, I couldn't help but smile at their closeness.
“So, how long have you guys been together?” I wondered aloud in their direction.
Beth looked up at me and smiled warmly. A look of total devotion shining through her features.
“Five years in two months,” she grinned as Keeley scoffed at the statement, and explained: “Kee never remembers. I have to remind her on a weekly basis how long I've had to suffer through her violence and unfaithfulness. Ow!” she recoiled in feign hurt as Keeley playfully slapped her on the leg and rolled her eyes. “See? Violence. I don't know how I've stayed this long.” The serious look on her face lasted all of three seconds and then both women began to laugh, and then kiss, and I realised the conversation, at least for my part, had finished.
Dragging my eyes away from the two attractive lesbians making out in the corner of the Gondola, my eyes caught Eph's, who gave me a strange look and leaned forward as if she was going to say something. I held my breath in anticipation.
Continued in Part Two.
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