Blueprints Ch. 01


Author’s Note(s):

– This is my first foray into writing a full blown story on this site. Therefore, I am very eager to hear your constructive criticism.

– This is very much an introduction to two characters. Focus is on, Zara, the younger of the two. Although there’s a steamy section, the story may not be to everyone’s tastes. So, if you prefer a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kinda thing this may not be up your street.

-I am without a laptop (great timing, I know) so have written this from a tablet and subsequently lost all my nice formatting.

– Lastly, I hope you enjoy!!


Her hot breath met the frosty morning air, dissipating into the quaint forest setting as her feet pushed the pedals of the carbon fibre mountain bike. It had been a much under utilised purchase- having been pressurised into buying it by her comrade, who was speeding ahead.

“You can’t be falling behind already!” He shouted back to her. “We haven’t even started.”

Zara retorted, informing Steve she was merely warming up. Truth be told, her Lycra long sleeved was already clinging to the base of her back. “Aye, whatever, Zara! You’re just too busy thinking about your latest lesbian fantasy.” Steve, although one would not decipher readily, was gay, thus thinking he could get away with such a statement. Well, that and them being very close friends.

Applying more pressure to the pedals causing her calf muscles to flex, the young woman swiftly overtook him, prior to pulling a rather impressive skid in front of the fellow Architect, causing him to curse and almost fall off his own mountain bike. “I’m not a lesbian!” Zara panted, “I just find her… interesting.”

“Fuck, Zara. Get a grip.” He scoffed, “You’ve done nothing but talk her for the past hour and I know you are talking about it to me because I’m your only close friend that will appreciate where you are coming from. I’m sick of you always fighting this, like its something to be ashamed of; its 2017, for God sake.”

After a long pause, Zara broke the silence. They were great friends and that was worth way more than her pride and stubbornness. “I’m not having any fantasies.” She said, looking at the whites of her knuckles which gripped the handlebars a little too tightly. “Come on, let’s go. I don’t want to cool down now I’ve warmed up.’ Turning her bike to face the correct way, Zara took off down the track before giving an, albeit grudging, apology.

The pair travelled at speed for over an hour, exchanging brief conversation regarding which direction to take as they zipped up and down the forestry track, only slowing down when met with others pursuing the outdoors. After 20 minutes of an extremely steep incline they made it the top of a hill which overlooked the entire Pentland Hills Regional Park. The view was magnificent; Lothian looked particularly stunning in warm oranges and reds, not that Zara noticed. She had dumped her expensive bike in the middle of the path and was leaning against a Conifer, gasping for breath. “You… better… win… this race!” She managed. In a few months her friend would be cycling through South East Asia, raising money for a children’s charity in the process. “You are doing pretty well, yourself.” He panted, moving Zara’s bike out of way of an approaching dog walker, giving the older man an apologetic look as he did so. “You should come, too.” Unsurprisingly, he was unceremoniously shot down; the elderly dog walker, still in ear shot let out a chuckle.

The two friends sat on the cool grass, appreciating their surroundings. “You should just go for it you know.” Steve said, tentatively. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She’s not even that way inclined! And I don’t know if I am either- Don’t say anything!” She added quickly, “I think she had a boyfriend recently?” Not that the lean brunette was about to admit to this her companion, but she had used a recent lunch hour to do some online investigation.

“And that matters? If I had a quid for every time a guy had a ‘girlfriend’ I’d be able to give a hell of a lot more to this charity, that’s for sure. Besides, you only live once so just gee it a bash.” He finished in an exaggerated Glaswegian accent. “And to prove that I practise what I preach, I’ll sleep with the first woman that shamelessly throws herself at me tonight!” He laughed.

“I resent that! You wouldn’t sleep with me when I shamelessly threw myself at you a few years ago!” Zara said indignantly. Truth be told, that was a night she would rather forget, but the whole ordeal was just too funny to not recall on occasion. Steve and Zara had met at a networking event in Glasgow a few years ago; both were just about to finish their degrees. To cut a long story short, much alcohol was consumed, many signals were misread and a great deal of embracement was felt on her part.

“Just make sure your flirting is better than it was that night. ‘Oh Steve, we should take a walk down to the new development at the Clyde and you can teach me about its architectural tekirdağ escort merit.'” He reiterated in a high pitched voice, causing Zara to burst into a fit of giggles; a laugh which lit up her hazel eyes.

“Not my finest moment, I’ll admit” She laughed, before taking a long drink of water. Getting up, she dusted the grass off herself. “Well, shall we head back down?” Steve agreed, telling her to get a head start whilst he straightened his helmet.


Lying in her bath tub, Zara soaked her now sore muscles whilst drinking her second Hendricks and tonic. Standing at about five foot eight, she struggled to fit in the small space; coping by resting her feet on the edge of the sink, causing suds to drip from her toned calves and puddle on the cheap vinyl flooring. Flicking absentmindedly through last month’s Architect’s Journal, the young woman thought of her and Steve’s conversation. The woman they discussed was a Professor at Edinburgh University. The two had met through a mutual friend; Joanna was looking to extend her kitchen and that was something, Zara could assist with. During there brief meetings the two seemed to… click? Click in a way which was not overtly sexual, but there had been a glance held for longer than necessary, moments where neither women seemed to want to go their separate ways. Nonetheless, the Professor was reserved; reserved and knew what she wanted. Her occasional curtness seemed to add to, Zara’s attraction.

Giving herself a subconscious shake, she ducked her head under the warm, fragrant water. Remerging seconds later, her long dark hair suitably soaked and attempted to loss herself in an abstract of Amanda Levete’s recent biography.


The ache in Zara’s thighs and bum was exacerbated by her black leather ankle boots which clicked as they hit Rose Street’s cobbles. She sent Steve a text to inform him, smiling at the almost instant retort which informed her they were in need of some toning. Cheeky bastard. Slipping her mobile into her stylish coat’s pocket, she exchanged it for her ID and guest pass. It was opening night of Wall, the Capital’s latest ‘trendy’ bar; Zara’s friend had wangled four tickets. Pushing past the crowd at the bar the young woman managed to locate her companions with minimal effort. Having exchanged hugs, kisses, how are you doings, etc. she took off her Burberry coat, revealing a fashionable sleeveless black blouse, which hung loosely around her trim figure. “So you bought it did you?! You share that pokey little flat where there’s hardly enough room to swing a cat, yet you go on weekly shopping sprees to Harvey Nicks?!” Fiona said ruefully, eyeing the almost sheer blouse.

“Wow! Jealous much?!” Zara smiled, she knew her friend was only playing, sort of. “I live in the flat because I don’t believe in throwing money away on rent- you know that! And as for my beautiful shirt, I spent my Saturday staring at a gay man’s arse as I cycled 25 miles through a forest. So if I want to spend a bit of money on myself, I will.” She smiled, patting Fi’s thigh. “And seeing as I am being somewhat persecuted with regards to my spending, I’ll get the drinks in. Shall I?” No one argued.

Making her way through the crowd yet again Zara, was able to negotiate to front a little quicker than she ought to, through utilising a friendly smile here and there. She was, after all quite pretty; especially having applied light make-up, giving herself a rather smoky look through the application of grey eye liner and a touch of mascara. This complemented her long dark brown hair, the glossy texture apparent, even in the now dimly lit bar. She wasn’t like a lot of girls you see on nights out in Scotland: dresses barely covering them, thick applications of orange foundation and heels they can barely walk in. In fact, the outfit she had selected this evening was bordering on androgynous. The shirt and black skinny jeans were balanced by heeled boots and that mahogany mane.

Finally, she was standing at the bar, her ribs pressed up against the cool black surface whilst she shouted her order the bar tender. Upon passing her four Hendricks Mojitos she attempted to hand over her RBS Credit Card, only to be interjected by the man to her left. “I’ll get these.” He smiled. Zara’s heart sank; she was never very good in this situation. She was always torn between politeness and her inner feminist wanting to tell him to piss off- she was an independent woman and could pay for her own drinks. Stammering for a moment she politely declined, only to be met with a plea from the- she would have guessed late-thirties investment broker. “I’m fine. Thank you.” She insisted.

“Tell you what, if you don’t want free drinks, how about we do a trade: four drinks for your number. Pretty fair, right?” He flashed a smile.

“Honestly, I’m fine. Thanks.” She said abruptly. Thrusting her card into the, now impatient, barman’s hand who, to be fair gave her a sympathetic look. Turning around to squeeze out tekirdağ escort bayan of the crowd, she was greeted by a familiar face. “Joanna.” Zara exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I too was surprised that they let me in. I thought that to drink cocktails out of a disused bean cans you had to be well under thirty.” She said with a mixture of humour and impatience.

“Not your idea of a fun night out then?” Zara asked nonchalantly, her fingers becoming increasingly cold as she balanced the four cans between two hands.

“Ah, I’m just being cynical, Zara.” She smiled. “It was lovely to see you. Enjoy your evening.” And after briefly touching the younger woman’s elbow, Joanna was making her way into the crowd.

The night was good. The group of friends were carving their way in world; having graduated from nights out fuelled by cheap wine which concluded at 7am to evenings such as this where a twelve pound cocktail was no longer an impenetrable thought. Nonetheless, that did not stop the conversation from deteriorating. They talked work, someone was promoted but still paid less by then the men she was now managing, prompting a gender pay gap discussion which prompted comment about The Budget, “We’ll likely be £8 a month better off, us, the epitome of middle class Britain. Fuck the single working mothers, let us cut them. Madness!” One of the group snapped sarcastically. The conversation deteriorated from there and before they knew it the embarrassing stories were getting recalled.

“Do you remember,” Kay repeated three times, one hand on her chest, the other pointing at, Zara as she cried with laughter.

“Oh God, what?” The lean brunette sighed, smirking.

“Do you remember when that boy. That boy,” She repeated in a shriek of laughter, her reaction causing the rest of the group to laugh out loud. “At, at Glastonbury.”

“Erugh,” Zara said, putting her head in her hands, “I’ve never got over it. Never!” She said, making to stand up to get another round of drinks in, hoping this would encourage her friend to cut the story short. Alas, she was yanked back down to sit.

“He was quite a big guy.” She said wiping away a tear. “And he’s going to town, legs-“

“Shorts and wellies.” Another interjected.

“Yeah, shorts and wellies! Actually out the door of your tent as he’s going down on you. And he, and he falls asleep!!” She shrieks, clapping her hands together.

“Alright, the whole bar doesn’t have to know!” Zara retorted, wiping an amused tear away from her dark eyes.

“But the best bit, the best bit is, you just gave up trying to move him and went to sleep as well! Everyone walking past must have seen, because I come back in the morning to this- this boy’s face right in her vagina, like right in it!”

“Eight years on and I’ve never gotten over it. Never. When someone’s down there now, I’m always like hand in the hair, ‘you will stay awake’.”

After the uproar that ensued, turning punter’s attention towards the group of young women, Eve turned to, Zara, “And when was the last time someone was ‘down there’?” She asked, making to grab her friend’s upper thigh, causing another shriek of laughter from the women.

“That’s enough!” The brunette laughed, standing abruptly as she felt fingers brush against her toned thigh. “And if you must know,” She said in a lowered tone, “It’s been far too long.”

“You are having a good night.” Hot breath tickled the nape of, Zara’s neck, but it was the familiar voice in her ear that caused a shiver to run through her. The younger woman continued to touch up her lipstick in the dimly lit cramped bathroom as she regarded, Joanna in its reflection. She looked good in her understated outfit.

“I am.” She said not unkindly, but the alcohol had lessened any nerves she would otherwise have felt. “Are you?”

The author moved into the light, which exacerbated the greenness of her eyes making them stand out against her clear skin. She too was taller than average, even taller than Zara, but not by much and her well-proportioned symmetrical face was framed nicely by short blonde hair; the pixie cut stopping before her shoulders.

“We keep meeting. It’s very odd.” Joanna, stated, before stepping to the sink and washing her hands. Zara handed her a towel, watching for a moment as those graceful fingers, dried one another.

“Edinburgh’s not a big place.” The younger woman shrugged, then realising how that sounded added, “Not that I mind, you’re interesting.” She added, too quickly. They made their way out of the ladies’ and back into the crowded bar.

“Do you want to get some air? You won’t be able to hear all the interesting things I have to say over this racket.” She said with the slightest of smirks. The way even a smirk met her dark green eyes made, the younger woman’s stomach flutter.

The pair stood on the cobbles of Rose Street amongst other revellers, the bar’s music periodically blaring when the doors escort tekirdağ opened. Joanna went to light a cigarette and their eyes locked for several moments causing heat to rise within Zara’s sculpted cheeks. It was the younger woman who broke the silence. “What?” She exclaimed, trying to stifle a smile.

Joanna shrugged, “You’re interesting.” And cupped a slender hand around the Marlboro; the silver lighter sparking, causing her eyes to almost match the shade of the flame.

They made small talk as Joanna smoked two cigarettes, of which she had declined Zara’s request for one. “I couldn’t live with myself, you’re young and healthy; I won’t corrupt that.” With a hint of a smile that suggested otherwise, causing, Zara’s stomach to jolt once more.

The cool night air had the young woman both sobering up and shivering. The former reminding her that twenty minutes ago she had agreed to go and get drinks. “Joanna, sorry but I need to go back in. I said I’d get the drinks and-” She was going to start to waffle, before being cut off.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t monopolise your time. I must get back also.”

“You’re more than welcome to join us.”

At this Joanna smiled, “That’s very sweet, but I’m here with a few colleagues from the university, who I should also be getting back to. I’m just going to finish this.” She gestured to the glowing cigarette in her hand, “It was nice to see you again, Zara.”

After stalling for a moment, reluctant to leave the company, Zara took a couple of steps back before turning on her heel and heading towards the entrance of the bar. Looking back she caught the woman’s eyes still on her. “You never gave us any feedback on the quote for the extension.” The young Architect pointed out.

“No need. I’m selling.”

“All the more reason; value adding.” Zara smiled, before disappearing back into Wall.

Upon re-arrival two drinks were waiting for her along with a barrage of questions about where she had gone. “Potential client.” She shrugged evasively and fortunately someone else seemed to have a more pressing subject to address for no further questions were asked. She sat back into her portion of the chair and watched Joanna walk through the bar once more. True to her word she joined a mixed group of people on the far side of the room, showing no interest in anything, or one, else around her.

“What about, you? Zara? Hey!” Someone nudged her arm. “You there?!” And with that she was brought into a heated debate which no one, when sober, would have cared about.


Sunday morning hit a little harder than one would have liked, nonetheless the young woman was determined to make the most of her day; her shared apartment was a mess, she had no food in and, despite the rain which was so heavy it had woken her before it was even light out, going for a jog was the best way to shake the hangover. She might even, but most likely not, work on a design which was due this week. However, these grand plans could wait another hour… Flipping to the cool side of the pillow, the brunette buried back down into her bed and shut her eyes, however, after twenty minutes of tossing and turning she lay on her back, frustrated. She trailed neatly manicured fingers over her exposed midriff as she thought about last night, about Joanna. The younger woman had, several times, been attracted to women, Hell she’d been with a couple. However, drunken forays in your early twenties were one thing. But this, this thing with Joanna was different. A piercing look shouldn’t be enough to jolt her stomach and have her thinking about being alone with her. No, not just being with her, giving herself to the older woman.

Her tight body quickly responding to the self-stimulus. She continued to explore her own body, lightly grazing her nails over her modest chest, causing her nipples to stiffen and strain against the material of her t-shirt. Roughly, she grabbed at herself, closing her eyes and wincing as she mauled with her breasts in frustration. Where had this come from?! Her right hand trailed back down her midriff and slipped into her pyjama shorts, over her neatly trimmed pubis. Running two fingers over her slit, she retracted them, wet them in her mouth, a string of saliva briefly continuing the connection between the digits and her lips before she returned them to her cunt. Dipping her lubricated middle finger into herself, she released the wetness and spread it over her cleft. All the while her left hand worked her modest chest.

The young woman’s mind raced and she replayed the evening; the pair were standing outside the bar and instead of going their separate ways, Joanna gently reached for Zara’s slender face, caressing her cheek before shifting her hand into her hair and guiding their mouths together. Imagining a tender yet definite embrace, Zara’s fingers danced over her clit, causing her a throaty moan to escape her lips. The kiss quickly became stronger; that experienced mouth trailing down the younger woman’s throat, pulling her hair to gain more exposure of the flesh. The two women were suddenly in a nondescript bedroom. Zara was bent over the edge of the bed, her jeans and briefs pulled down to her knees as Joanna stood behind her. Zara turned over in her own bed, burying her face in her pillow and gliding her now slick fingers over her clit.

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