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Corrupt the Midwife	By : JayDee Category: -Misc TV Shows > FemSlash - Female/Female Views: 2527 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Call the Midwife or any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Content Codes (Part 4): ChallengeFic CR FF Fingering
Part 4: Dirty Trix
“I’d just dropped in for the off-sales counter, but when I saw you out there down the passage I thought it would be nice to have a little tot together. You’ve not been in Poplar long. I’m sure you have such enthralling stories to tell. Better here than The Crown; Old Maggie told me some navvies had what she called a ‘Donnybrook’ in there, and broke all the furniture.”
Trixie’s slurring lessened as she led Chummy into a small side room. She was making an effort, but she’d clearly been drinking, and come for more when the bottle ran dry.
“Gosh, you’re rather tight!”
“Not at all! I’m just a little merry,” Trixie retorted.
Chummy was surprised to see the dimly lit room appeared completely private, without a section of the bar. As Trixie led her to the padded bench along the wall, she noticed there was already a brace of Gin and Tonics upon the nearest table, and Trixie’s carryout too. Trixie continued,
“Fanny is such a dear; I dashed back to ask her to bring a couple and then dove out to catch you. Do you know Fanny?”
“I’ve not had the pleasure.”
“Oh, you simply must have the pleasure, Chummy,” Trixie murmured delphically, before continuing in a bubbly tone, “bottoms up!”
She took the glass and clinked it with Trixie’s, before sipping a little down; too much gin, not enough tonic. She hid her slight distaste and sat the glass back down. Trixie sat close beside her on the bench, and drank a little more. Chummy found herself extremely aware of the glamorous blonde midwife’s body heat and a frankly enticing perfume. She squirmed slightly on the bench.
“It’s been simply hectic since Saturday, Chummy. You’ve been doing a power of good on that flash new bicycle. I didn’t think you could ride! You’re covering more ground than the rest of us, why, you’ll have thighs like oaks before long!”
Trixie’s hand came down on Chummy’s thigh in emphasis and lingered just a moment too long. Chummy flushed, convinced that the heat seemingly radiating from beneath her skirt would be obvious.
“One does one’s bit; I’ll be glad to be rid of the thing.”
“Oh, you’re rather tense aren’t you, here,” Trixie took another gulp and then put her glass down, “let me help!”
Before Chummy quite knew what had happened, Trixie had twisted her on the padded bench and was working her hands in a massage around her shoulders. She had been tense, but Trixie’s fingers teased and worked her knotted muscles until the stress seemed to flow away leaving only increasing lust behind. Chummy couldn’t stop herself sighing as Trixie laid her back until she was looking up into mischievous eyes.
“I’ve seen you looking at Jenny. You had your hand in your knickers at breakfast, when I was passing the door.”
Flushed didn’t cover it. Chummy just knew her face was beetroot. Had she really done such a thing? She knew she’d been stealing glances at Jenny; that dashed fantasy had kept coming back to her whenever they were in the same room. Jenny’s pleasure, then the unfulfilled promise of a favor repaid.
“I... had an itch, yes. Touch of thrush don’t you know. I’ve got a balm now. Wonderful stuff”
Trixie giggled warmly, and shook her blonde hair gamely.
“Jenny’s not worth it. She’s got herself a man. Now as for me, dear Chummy, for the moment I do not.”
Trixie kissed her, awkwardly, upside down. She tasted of alcohol, and cigarettes and desire. Chummy found herself kissing back desperately. She hadn’t been able to reach a peak on her own; perhaps Trixie could help her. The vivacious gregarious midwife surely knew what she was doing. Chummy knew, rationally, that there might be consequences but then and there she had a burning desire. She twisted around on the bench until she was facing Trixie, and then kissed her again. Trixie began to tug Chummy’s skirt up, and Chummy lifted her bottom from the bench to help her.
“Please... I need...”
“I know exactly what you need,”
Once Chummy’s skirt was bunched around her waist, Trixie made her hold it out of the way. She stroked Chummy’s bared thighs. They could both see that Chummy’s underwear was sopping wet, with shining short hairs sticking out around the edges of the fabric. Trixie hooked the fabric aside to reveal Chummy’s aching quim, reddened after days of manipulation.
Somebody coughed as they walked past the snug’s closed door and Chummy froze, suddenly remembering where they were. Anyone could walk in; a policeman, a vicar, a man from the newspaper... Trixie sank two fingers inside her as easy as if she was parting water. Her entire body shook as Trixie’s thumb brushed at her nub.
“Gosh, you’re rather tight!”
“Someone might see! Someone might come!”
Trixie kissed her again, while moving her fingers inside and out. The bicycle was good; this was better. Chummy’s hands shook white knuckled as she gripped her bunched up skirt. They were both wearing too much clothing. She wanted Trixie’s body moving naked, next to hers. She wanted Trixie’s breasts in her hands, or Trixie’s mouth on hers. The scent of their bodies seemed to fill the small room.
“You’re magnificent. Do you want me to stop?”
Chummy felt so empty as Trixie’s fingers came out and she tasted them with a moan.

“N-no... Please, I’m so close...”
She lifted herself urgently towards Trixie, feeling as if she would give anything, risk anything to have peak. Trixie’s fingers were back inside, her thumb finding the right spot without as she hooked her fingers against sensitive flesh. Chummy loosed a cry that would surely have been heard in the Saloon Bar. She was about to...
Chummy was slumped against the bicycle. Trixie had never been there. She hadn’t peaked. Her aching need unsatisfied.
Another fantasy.
A discarnate giggle sounded, already fading.
“Fuck!”
Sometimes only working class profanity could really express one’s emotions.
To be continued…
A/N: Part 4 written for AFF forum weekly prompts 184/185 – discarnate delphically, donnybrook
If it is not obvious, saying someone was ‘tight’ could also mean drunk/tipsy for a period in 20th century Britain.
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Corrupt the Midwife