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(Wednesday 16th October 2002)
Viola had never felt so much alone as she exited the lift and walked along K floor’s central corridor. Here she was, on her way to a meeting of the Lesbian Society. Less than a week ago she’d called herself straight. Less than a week ago she’d not had one lesbian bone in her body.
Except she’d been deluding everyone, herself included. And an awful lot could happen in a week.
Come to that, an awful lot could happen in just four days.
‘Brass it out babe,’ she murmured, saying the same thing she’d have said dating a guy she was not so sure about. ‘Bare those bright white teeth of yours and jiggle those tits. Failing that, lie back and think of England.’
Shame that was all easier said than done.
The meeting was in one of the large study rooms, one capable of catering for several dozen people at once. Knowing the layout in advance Viola steeled herself, opened the door and went in.
Ten minutes early and the place was more than buzzing already. By her guestimate there were fifty girls in there and she knew very few of them. Segregated into fifteen, maybe twenty subsets everyone was busily chatting away without a worry in the world.
Not that “segregated” meant “segregation”. Being a black girl from Manchester Viola had heard horror stories about discrimination without ever actually experiencing any herself. Her neighbourhood had to be one of the most diverse, best integrated on the planet. Come to that her Lancashire town university was also ace at community relations. In its way it was as well-attuned as her home bit of Cottonopolis.
Yes, those subsets were mixed indeed and seemed to include females of every possible nationality, religion and skin-tone.
Problem was Viola still knew hardly any of them as individuals.
Deep down she had expected the attendees to consist of the usual suspects to be found on Lesbians’ Corner in the Union Bar. But that was not the case. Okay, so she recognized some of the very familiar faces, but only a handful of the diehards were present. And even then they were outnumbered by less familiar faces. She recognized a couple from her course (and wasn’t that a surprise!) and a few others from seeing them round and about. But most present were total strangers to her.
Omigod, she thought, this lesbian community is even bigger than I suspected. The possibilities have to be endless!
Maybe it’s all too much!!
And there’s no sign of Hev at all . . .
Before she could chicken and turn tail Vanessa appeared out of nowhere, clasping her hand, pulling her close.
‘I’m so glad you made it,’ she gushed. ‘Come with me; I’ve got us seats in the front row.’
Vanessa was The Corner’s most regular denizen. She seemed to virtually live there. She was also the Lesbian Society’s chief recruiting officer. And she’d been snapping at Viola’s heels since her very first same-sex kiss.
Not that Viola begrudged her for it. Vanessa was a tad on the skinny side but a stunning beauty in any and every way.
They’d already agreed to have drinks after the meeting.
A mere four days into her new life, Viola had already enjoyed two female lovers and was well into her new lifestyle. Vanessa wasn’t to know it for sure, but she was soon about to become her female lover number three. Leastways she was now she’d stopped her from panicking and fleeing.
Rescuers deserve rewarding, no?
Crazy thought as it was, that was Vi’s take on the situation. She’d been both recruited and rescued so therefore she was obligated.
Not as if she’d ever have believed such claptrap had a guy tried to sell her a tale like that!
The room was set out with a desk at the front and seats facing it, like a lecture theatre but less formal. Vanessa had bagged seats on the first row to the extreme left, two of which were already occupied by a pair for blondes.
‘Molly and Mandy, meet Vi,’ said Vanessa, ‘Vi, meet Molly and Mandy. You’re all debutants tonight.’
The three of them awkwardly shook hands, aware of the rest of the room’s attention, covert or not.
‘Don’t worry one whit,’ Vanessa went on. ‘You’re here as observers. You’ll be introduced but you don’t have to say anything. I’ll do all the speaking; it’s water off a duck’s back for me.’
‘Where’s Katie?’ Viola asked into the resultant silence, recalling her own “recruitment”, remembering Vanessa’s next target.
‘She had a prior arrangement. But I’m nothing if not persuasive. She’ll be here next week without fail. And never mind her; here comes the lady herself.’
Viola faced front and almost swooned as a tall, red-haired woman swept into the room. What a delight it was to see her! Minimally a six-footer, she had a presence that would have hushed Old Trafford. As a newcomer to girl-on-girl Viola initially saw her through the eyes of a man (that is to say, through the eyes of what she imagined to be a man).
Fucking unbelievably fit!
Although the woman’s body was superb it was her face that immediately bahis firmaları captured attention. Beautiful as she was, there was something quirky about her. Her pale green eyes radiated humour and desire. Her scattering of freckles were light-coloured and appealing. Her lips twisted as she smiled, up at one side, down on the other.
It was impossible not to smile back at her.
And screw what men might think, she was the chairwoman of the Lesbian Society.
Oh fuck, Viola’s brain reeled, she’s within grasp. She really is. So near yet so far!
‘Good evening,’ the voluptuous Amazonian began. ‘Thank you all for attending. And, as usual, before we go down on the agenda, let’s see who my trusty Vanessa has enticed in tonight.’
“Go down on” produced a chorus of witchy cackles. Viola cackled along with the best of them.
Then “trusty Vanessa” stood up and beckoned the three newbies onto their feet, encouraging them to turn so their faces were visible to the rows of attendees behind. Viola gulped. There must have been a late rush because there now had to be an audience of at least a hundred, most of them looking at her, first and foremost.
Well, they were in her imagination. Looking at her and wolfishly licking their lips.
‘This is Molly,’ said Vanessa, not unlike the great PT Barnum, introducing a new and especially good act, maybe a contortionist or fire-eater. ‘This is Mandy and this is Viola. Let’s call them bi-curious for now.’ Swiftly adding: ‘And let’s also show a modicum of respect.’
Somebody in the back row tittered. ‘Viola’s been screwing Hev ever since Saturday,’ she said. ‘That’s not bi-curious, that’s gluttony.’
Viola’s reply surprised herself as much as anyone else. ‘We’re not gluttons,’ she said loud and clear. ‘We had Monday night off.’
‘So you screwed on Tuesday as well?’ the back row rabble-rouser persisted.
‘Of course we did.’
The round of applause was ear-splitting and genuinely appreciative. Even so Viola winced. They had only had Monday night off because Hev had previously committed to “go out with” Katie.
And she hadn’t exactly had an early night herself. Not an early night alone, anyway . . .
The voluptuous Amazonian called the meeting back to order and introduced herself as Joy.
How fitting was that! Viola was enraptured just looking at her.
Forever smiling that quirky smile Joy then went one by one through the items on her agenda. Way it worked was this: every item related to a specific woman/lesbian-friendly task and every task had its own “task champion”. Joy would shortly and succinctly remind her audience of the reasoning behind each task then ask the relevant champion to report on progress.
And, students being students, several squillion questions were asked of those poor champions, most of them deadly serious, a lot humorous and a few downright bawdy. As entertainment went, it was all great fun.
But better than that, joking aside, there was genuine intent.
They were doing something! Vanessa had compared her society to a great big lesbian dating club but there was more to it than that; much more.
They weren’t just doing something, Viola realized, they were belonging.
Yes indeed. And she’d never wanted to belong so badly in her life.
Any Other Business was a particularly rumbustious affair that reduced many to tears of laugher, Viola very much included. When they’d all chuckled their socks off Joy declared the meeting closed but only until next Wednesday. Plenty of attendees immediately departed but at least half lingered to say hello to the three new recruits.
Or, rather, they mostly lingered to say hello to Viola.
How embarrassing was that! Vi sincerely felt on behalf of her two fellow newcomers who scarcely got a fraction of the attention she did. If she could have thought of a way to share that attention she would have done so in a flash.
Even so she was flattered to have everybody buzzing around her. Lots of established pop stars would have relished the adoration she was getting.
Okay, so she was like a minor pop star, granted. But she still had to survive a tidal wave of admirers, all of them wanting to “get to know” her better.
The things those young ladies said! Most twenty-year-old guys (not notably an age for wisdom where young guys are concerned) wouldn’t have dared. But in no time at all, Viola got seventeen proposals for drinks, eleven for dates and two of marriage. She shrugged her way out of them, naturally, but not in a dismissive sort of a style.
Oh no, she loved it. And she was quite wildly excited by all the different types of girls with their varying looks, shapes, colours and sizes. At that moment she wanted to say yes to everyone (barring the two proposals of matrimony, which were slightly creepy). Delaying rather than declining, she did her best to remember who had offered what.
Taking the non-marital suggestions up one after another seemed like fun.
Taking them all up tonight kaçak iddaa seemed like fun, too. The logistics escaped her, though. And she’d already agreed to Vanessa’s proposal for tonight, hadn’t she? If ever there was a time for politely assuring all the other girls that she would get back to them soon, it was now.
Yes, it was a softly, softly, catchee monkey time if ever there was one.
Rescued by Vanessa in person (with some of the other attendees lining up to renew or reshape their proposals), Viola was gently pulled towards her fellow debutants, only to find that Joy had beaten her to it.
The sight of Joy impressed Viola anew. She was surely over twenty-one, most likely a mature student but not a very old one. Maybe twenty-three or twenty-four, doing her Masters or PHD. And wasn’t her ass something?
In fact wasn’t all of her something! Inexperienced as she was, Viola’s fingers were twitching. Touching a woman like her would be awesome. And that smile . . .
Oddly enough, Vi’s agreement with Vanessa hadn’t been strained by all the offers from thirty assorted lezzies, every last one of them attractive in her own way. Yet Joy really was special. It would only take a single word from her for pacts and agreements to go flying out the window.
That woman was something else all right.
That woman had it in spades.
‘Hands off,’ Vanessa said sotto voce. ‘It’s me and you tonight, remember?’
‘Okay,’ Viola replied, just as quietly, ‘you spoilsport.’
‘Say that to me later, when I’ve proven my prowess.’
The two exchanged glances and snorted laughter.
‘Okay,’ Viola repeated,’ I’ll try to remember to express suitable appreciation.’
‘We’ve been sleeping together since Easter,’ Molly was saying as they drew near enough to overhear. ‘We went out on the town and it just sort of happened. I was gobsmacked next morning, when it finally all sank in.’
‘I wasn’t,’ Mandy added with a grin. ‘But it wasn’t planned; like Molls said, it just happened.’
Omigod, thought Viola, they’re a couple.
She was as much chagrined for not realizing earlier as she was surprised. This lesbianism thing was not as simple as she’d supposed. She obviously needed more practice in tuning her feminine gaydar.
Make that lots and lots more practice.
Assuming she wasn’t badly mixing her metaphors.
And hopefully some of that practice will happen with Joy, her brain added with a witchy cackle all of its own.
But Joy aside, looking on the bright side, Viola had heaps of offers in the bank. And she had Vanessa, right there and holding her hand. No, not holding it, clutching it.
‘That first night was . . .’ Molly hesitated, ‘even though we were half-pissed it was great. We were a bit shy with each other afterwards, but it happened again the next night.’
‘And the next,’ Mandy tittered.
‘And just about every night since,’ Molly went on. ‘We stayed up here over the summer, because we didn’t want to be apart. And our parents couldn’t possibly understand. They’re so old-fashioned.’
At that Mandy’s face became less smug. ‘Too true,’ she said softly. ‘I went home for three days and it seemed like forever.’
Joy kissed them both on their cheeks before turning to Vanessa and Viola. And the way she did it was supreme. She was unmistakably beyond sensual, as well as unmistakably caring. Molly and Mandy’s story had touched her, however familiar it was. It genuinely meant something to her.
It meant something to Viola too. Watching Joy kissing like that was akin to watching one of the better-quality porn videos, one made by a woman director, intended for females who like females.
Watching her was cool.
‘So what’s your story Vi,’ she asked, smiling that curiously twisted smile of hers.
Viola came in her knickers.
‘I got to be Hev’s friend,’ she somehow managed to bleat. ‘That’s all we were simply forever. But then the inevitable happened. Just like that; just like Molly just said.’
‘Please tell me Hev didn’t take advantage of you,’ said Joy, her voice deep, rich and sexy as fuck.
‘No way,’ Viola assured her. ‘I was begging her for it.’
Now Joy’s light green eyes were boring into Viola’s. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Promise, swear to God and Girl Guides’ honour.’
Joy laughed musically. Was anything about her less than perfect, less than divine!
‘Hev has a certain reputation,’ she said, ‘but few recognize how honourable she is. I am glad to hear she’s maintaining standards.’ Then, smoothly switching topics: ‘What are you doing Saturday? Could you assist on our stall at the fete?’
The fete had been halfway down the agenda so everyone knew it was mostly a money-raising activity, aimed at funding the multitude of lesbian newsletters and flyers that were to be found just everywhere on campus. And also aimed at funding heating and lighting for all of the weekly meetings too, come to that. The meeting room was provided gratis but gas and electricity providers weren’t as understanding as the university kaçak bahis powers-that-be; those utility bastards wouldn’t provide buckshee resources.
Not them. The capitalist so-and-sos cared only for profit margins, dividends and grotesque bonuses.
And that was the small handful of them who were actually human.
‘Sure,’ said Mandy, assuming the request was being made to the newbies as a threesome ‘I’ll gladly sell trays of tarts to anyone with brass in her pocket.’
Everybody laughed at that. Back in the meeting it had been made clear the Lesbian Society was there to sell fruit pies and gallons of coffee to all comers.
‘If that don’t attract the straight girls, what will?’ some nameless lady had asked, indecorously. ‘Sweet arts for innocent tarts; what could be more fitting?’
‘A knowing tongue on their clits,’ another had added, cuing a lengthy spell of raucous hilarity.
Now, with only the five of them left in the meeting room, Joy took control again . . . eventually but oh, so very effortlessly.
Viola’s admiration soared and soared.
‘I was thinking more of talking than selling,’ Joy resumed. ‘We have loads of potential saleswomen but I want a different sort of sales people. I want new sales people. What are we, not a month into the first semester, yet here were are with three bi-curious recruits.’
‘I don’t think we’re any of us curious,’ Mandy observed. ‘Not anymore.’
‘Infinitely better,’ said Joy. ‘So what I want is for the three of you to circulate around our stall and talk to everyone who’s lurking on the outside, whether they want to buy tarts or not. By that I mean being out on the lookout for curious girls. They’re going to be obviously curious just because they’re lurking there in the first place. So a few true-life stories can’t hurt, can they?’
‘You mean like converting them?’ said Molly.
‘No, I mean like encouraging them . . . or else discouraging them. It’s down to you to decide if the time is right for the individual. Think of yourselves as devil’s advocates.’
‘That’s quite a responsibility, said Mandy. ‘What if we get it wrong?’
‘You won’t, not if you tell those inquisitive freshers how it happened for you.’ At that point Joy raised a cautionary hand. ‘This is about reassurance, not persuasion. I don’t want you to rush anybody into the wrong decision. The objective here is to suggestive alternatives and to recommend caution. Slow and steady wins the race, right?’
By that point Viola would have agreed with anything Joy said. Vanessa’s increasingly tight grip on her hand indicated that she’d noticed the attraction.
Tug any harder and she’d be dragging her off into the bushes.
Ousted from the meeting room around eight o’clock, reluctantly dragging herself away from Joy and her magnetic aura, Viola accompanied Vanessa back along K floor’s central corridor, the two of them doing their best to avoid the cleaners’ buzzing floor-polishers.
Or should that be floor-buffers?
Whatever they were called, avoiding the snarling machines wasn’t nearly as easy as it sounds. Most of the operators had been trained by Rommel, although few of them seemed to have his sense of fair-play. According to Viola’s grandpa the Desert Fox had been a gentleman, well-schooled in the art and conventions of war. Those bitches with their polishers were more like tactical nukes, except minus the honour, decency and fair play.
What was that, honour, decency and fair-play? Given a Tiger tank those so-and-sos could have wiped out most of Lancashire, jerking off as they did it.
And that was only the female cleaners!
“I want you to circulate around our stall and talk to everyone who’s there,” Vanessa quoted with a girly giggle. ‘If you ask me that’s not what Joy wants at all. She wants the same as I do, and that’s to have you served up on a plate. But I’m first in the queue. Well, maybe not the very first. And I’m up there in prime position tonight. Get my drift?’
Viola got it all right. They were still holding hands and she had promised.
Just lately her appetite for sex had grown humongously. From take it or leave it she suddenly couldn’t think about anything else.
Alone in the shower today she’d even brought herself off. Four days of relentless sex and still she felt the need! How gluttonous was that!!
And skinny as she was, Vanessa was drop-dead gorgeous. No girl in her right mind could refuse her.
The thought jarred in Viola’s head, loudly echoing and resounding. “No girl”! How she’d changed, and in no time at all.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said, her voice little more than a whisper and almost drowned out by the buzz of all of the floor-polishers, ‘do I look like a piker?’
She expected some aggressively sexual and suggestive reply from Vanessa but didn’t get it.
‘Have you eaten?’ Vanessa asked instead.
Good point! ‘No,’ Vi admitted, ‘I was intending on having a baguette in the Union. Cheese and tomato left over from lunchtime; or maybe I’ll really go for it and have stale cheese and ham.’
‘I’ve wine at home but precious little food,’ said Vanessa. ‘Let me feed and water you in the Union and then take you back to mine. For an extra drink and what have you.’
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