Jayne removed her arms from Cath's neck. There was no reasoning with the girl. They'd agreed long ago that Cath could do what she wanted as long as she didn't risk bringing any diseases into their relationship (not that it was likely) and kept it out of the connubial household. Cath was just bating her. She feared she might bring up the subject of Ibiza and handjobs again. And the only reason the subject had ever come up was when Jayne was telling Cath about the abuse Paul's girlfriend had suffered. The implications of it rather frightened her, although she had known the odd woman who'd been abused when they were younger. But then, many abused women were so traumatised that lesbian sex was the only kind they would ever again contemplate.
"You see, Jayne. You just wait and see!" Cath said, putting on her clothes. On went a short top that revealed all of her waist almost down to her crotch, moleskin trousers that stopped somewhat short of her ankles, followed by a small nylon jacket that came to her navel but even when zipped up did nothing to hide the slimness of her waist. Last of all, she put on some booties that made Jayne sigh as she thought of Cath's beautiful toes hidden inside the leather.
Jayne remained naked as Cath left the flat. A dressing gown hung near the doorway just in case there was a surprise visitor. The last thing either Jayne or Cath ever wanted was for some strange man to see them nude. That would be humiliating! But as Jayne sometimes fantasised and Cath sometimes speculated, she wasn't sure she'd mind so much if that single mum from the first floor came by, even if she was accompanied by one of her snotty-nosed children.
And when Cath was gone, the memory persisting of Cath's parting speculations of just how easy it would be for Lyena and her to get it together, Jayne was alone, naked. Much as she liked having the flat to herself, she much preferred Cath's presence, however noisy and restless she was. And now what should she do? Watch television? Read a book? Put on a record and do that sewing she'd put off for so long?
Jayne riffled through the CDs, finally pulling out that St Germaine album she liked, with its relaxing jazz samples, hidden amongst Cath's collection of garage, deep house and female singer-songwriters. She found the pile of cardigans, blouses and trousers she'd neglected to repair for so long and busied herself on the sofa.
All the while she thought of Cath and her time at the
Pink Pussycat
. In the early days of their relationship, Jayne made an effort to accompany Cath on her evenings out, but the pall of smoke, the loud noise, and the raucous company was no longer to her taste. Age crept up on you so sneakingly! There were so few records to which she and Cath could dance together. Modern dance music was altogether too fast and percussive for her now. And Cath's complaint that Jayne was just getting in the way and making it difficult for her to get off with other women always rather hurt. Despite her reluctance, Jayne had come to accept that if she were to have a lover so much younger than her, it was necessary to be rather more indulgent than her heart dictated.
As much as Jayne loved Cath, there were occasions when she looked forward to these evenings alone. Cath could sometimes get so tiresome, especially when she was unhappy about something at work that troubled her or when she complained about how very ordinary her childhood in Solihull had been. It was no more ordinary than Jayne's childhood in Guildford, but it had taken less time for Cath to recognise her sexuality. Whereas Jayne had mostly been just puzzled, maybe bemused, by her lack of interest in boys, Cath's discovery had been much more revelatory and more troublesome to her than had Jayne's. And Jayne hated it when Cath bated her about her infidelities. How often did Jayne have to reassure her that she understood and, although she didn't like it exactly, wasn't going to present an obstacle to Cath's voracious hunger for female flesh?
Jayne finished her sewing and turned on the TV. The St Germaine album had long ago finished, but Jayne wasn't bothered to replace it with another. She flicked through the channels and settled on a TV drama set in America that featured a relationship between a man and a woman. Jayne wished there was more drama that featured the relationships she understood, though there were the occasional aspects of heterosexual relationships that seemed relatively similar. Generally, she much preferred dramas that told the story from a woman's point of view.
She wasn't sure her curiosity about men was wholly satisfied by her 'handjob' with Paul. There was no emotion involved, but she did find the sight of an erect penis strangely exciting. When she and Cath had used those penis-shaped dildos, she often wondered just how much it was like the real thing. She still didn't know, of course. It was one thing to hold a penis, even to see its semen spurt out through that tiny hole at the end. What did straight girls make of all that creamy stuff? It smelt so odd, but, like the penis itself, it was very warm. She wondered whether one day she might satisfy her curiosity further and actually let a man's penis penetrate her. He'd have to use a condom, of course, and it would have to be a special kind of man, perhaps a bisexual; one who understood that she had no interest in a man beyond them being a machine to satisfy her curiosity.
The very perversity of the thought made her feel quite warm between her legs, so she stroked her clitoris while watching the film. There was even a scene where the man and woman took their clothes off and simulated some kind of sex. There were no penises on display, of course. Certainly not erect ones. Would she be as enthusiastic as the woman in the film? Jayne somehow doubted it, although the thought of something like Paul's penis entering her definitely excited her. If only there was a way to enjoy a penis without the additional consideration of it being attached to a man.
Jayne stayed up beyond midnight. It was, after all, a Thursday night. Only one day to the weekend when she and Cath might take the car out of Islington, maybe out of London altogether, and head off to somewhere green and rural. She imagined the blue skies and green fields and speculated whether there might be a time she could persuade Cath to leave the city behind. Maybe they could move to Surrey, maybe even Guildford, far enough away not to actually live in London, but still able to commute to their respective jobs: she to the publishing house where she worked as an editor and Cath to the software house.
Jayne was watching an especially mindless Channel 4 quiz show when she heard the front door slam shut. Cath entered the living room still in her top and trousers, the jacket flung onto the back of the armchair she plopped into. Jayne could see the expression of disappointment on her lover's young face.
"Lyena only went off with fucking Julie!" she exclaimed bitterly. "And Penny picked up this girl with plaits. Some kind of Dutch girl."
Jayne picked up the remote and turned off the TV. She smiled at her lover as she fumbled into a packet and pulled out a cigarette. She lit it and flicked ash into the ashtray they'd bought in the Ibiza market.
"How are
you
, Cath sweetheart?" Jayne asked.
"Fucking pissed off is what I am!" Cath replied. "What's fucking wrong with me, Jayne? Why don't I score as easily as Julie or Penny? Or Emily or Judith, for that matter?"
Jayne could see that Cath had drunk more than the two or three glasses of wine she was normally comfortable with. More than that and she tended to get maudlin and irritable.
"You don't do too badly," Jayne said reassuringly.
"No, I don't. I'm fucking useless. Aren't I, Jayne? I'm just a fucking failure."
"You do better than I did when I was your age."
"Fuck!" said Cath irritably, flicking her ash contemptuously into the astray so that the column of ash nearly separated from the body of the cigarette. "That's no fucking comparison. At least I got you though, Jayne. You love me, don't you?"
"Yes," said Jayne standing up and walking towards her lover, whose clothes would so soon come off her and the two retreat to bed to resume the lovemaking they'd enjoyed a few hours later. "That is one thing you can always be sure of!"
