Little Mermaid

The new town was everything Ariel's hometown wasn't. It was so much bigger; its streets were crowded, bustling with people hurrying by, all blessedly anonymous. Buildings were high and sheathed in shiny glass, streets were wide; a constant droning of cars and machines enveloped her. Then there was what they called the Old Town near the river, with ancient brick store houses, China Town, markets, gardens and throngs of people everywhere. She guessed this was freedom, but the feeling intimidated her.

Getting off the plane, she'd walked through the airport to the luggage belt, collecting her backpack and wheeled suitcase. Outside, she'd inhaled the balmy air, spiced with promises of an unknown future. She'd picked up a cab, scared by the rapidly adding meter. Arriving at campus, it had been like watching a movie playing out around her, never allowing her to be more than a spectator.

After standing in line at the office, she'd filled out forms, the pen feeling slippery in her sweaty hand. She had taken in a stream of information, forgetting most of it instantly. The room at the dorm was like she'd seen them in every college-movie; she'd dumped her baggage on the bed. There had been others with mumbled names and excited faces, chatting the inane kind of small talk she would never master. There had been a Tracy, blond and pink and curvy, and a Whatshernameagain: all black curls and olive skin and a fat chest.

She found herself back in a park, next to a public swimming pool, sitting on a towel in her bathing suit. It stuck to her skin after a dip in the water. In her hand was a map of the city; it was meant to help her find out where to go, if ever she'd know where to go anyway.

A shadow fell over the map; a voice said hello and asked if she was maybe lost. "Or something," it added.

Looking up, Ariel had trouble discerning a face. It blocked the sun, creating an aureole of sparkling curls.

"I, ehm, well...," she said. The girl let herself down next to Ariel. She was petite and thin, skinny even under a wide t-shirt and ripped jeans. Her face, in its halo of orange curls, shone pale under an outburst of freckles. Her mouth was huge and overly filled with very white teeth as she smiled widely. Her eyes were big too, green and sparkling.

"I'm Carl," she said, reaching out a small hand with half-eaten fingernails. Her smile flashed again, her voice had the hoarse quality Ariel would recognize later on in many girl-students' voices: the effect of too much yelling and drinking.

"Ariel," she answered. "And yes, don't ask." The girl laughed infectiously.

"I understand," she said. "I have a grandmother called Carlotta, you see?" Ariel watched the freckles clump together in a frown.

"But that's a nice name," she said.

"Ah yes," the girl replied, shrugging. "Don't we always like other peoples' names better? Anyway, I'm Carl, second year. I saw you at registration. Where are you from?" Ariel told her, not surprised that the girl had never heard of the place, so she added the nearest bigger town, still drawing a blank.

"On the Atlantic," she said.

"Oh my," Carl exclaimed. "What on earth made you come all the way over here?" Ariel shrugged and plucked at the map in her lap.

"Just because it's far, I suppose," she said.

***

Carl was from California. "Not the sexy part," she assured Ariel. She'd studied English literature the previous year but changed to something involving drama and music. She shrugged and said: "Most of all I'm here to be away from the dump I was born in. Like you, I suppose." Ariel studied the girl, looking closer at the spindly arms and flat chest under a too wide t-shirt. Long legs, no hips at all. Must have been hard living in California being this ugly, she pondered. But the girl didn't seem sad at all. Her big eyes flew open as she jumped to her feet in shabby cowboy boots.

"There's a party I'm gonna take you to, girl!" she cried out. "You need it, believe me!"

***

Lying on the bunk in her dorm, Ariel floated on a cloud of beer and weed, and God knows what else. She'd never drank much, not even at the illegally spiked school parties back home. And, apart from one ill-fated draw Von and Barb had made her take, she'd never smoked marijuana before. Getting violently sick had seen to it being the last time. But now everything seemed different. Carl had taken her to a large basement that echoed with electronic drums and basses, already making her belly vibrate before she went in. Inside an all-girls' band was rehearsing, causing the paint on the walls to crack and flutter down. Ariel wondered if the purple-haired lead singer would still have a voice the next morning.

The basement had been full of girls drinking, smoking and screaming in each other's ears. Dancing seemed the only viable way of communication, and in some corners that happened quite intimately, she saw. Dancing never came naturally to Ariel, but two beers loosened her up enough not to care what people might say. Sweaty and dizzy she shook her arms and head and hips, closing her eyes and drifting away on the brutal noise. There had been more beer and a funny-colored pill and a sudden, all-encompassing feeling of well-being; a carefree lightness she didn't know she ever felt before. There had been arms around her, bodies against her and soft, soft lips on hers. She'd waltzed and careened round and round, her mouth stretched in an eternal smile. All had felt right, so right.

She hardly remembered stumbling up concrete stairs, but sanity returned when the cool air outside swam over her glowing face. Giggling and almost falling once or twice, she and Carl had arrived at her dorm. She'd fallen face-down on her bunk's mattress; it felt like a ship in a storm. She needed both hands not to roll off of it.

***

Someone pulled at her arm and made hurtful noises that penetrated her cloudy mind.

"Come on, girl," the voice said. "Hurry up, we have to get you to a better place." The voice was Carl's, and her words seemed to worm into Ariel's skull through a way too narrow opening, torturing her dehydrated brain. Half an hour later she stood on still-wobbly legs in a real room-room with a real bed-bed, scary sunlight falling through real windows, trying to seep into her cake-shut eyes. She groaned.

"Welcome to your new room," Carl said, smiling as she stood with her hands on her absent hips. "No need to thank me." How she'd done it Ariel didn't know, but against all rules Carl had gotten her out of the mandatory first-year dorm and into her small but much more private two-bedroom apartment.

"Ehm," Ariel said, looking around. "Why?"

"Don't ask," the girl said, grinning. Ariel opened the door to the small bathroom. Maybe, she thought, this is the way an ugly girl makes friends? Her fingers touched the lovely tiles. But why her? Why buy into the friendship of another ugly duck? She felt a hand on her back.

"Don't ask," Carl's voice repeated. The hand pulled at Ariel's shoulder to turn her around. Carl was very close; the two little words caused warm breath to touch Ariel's cheek. Suddenly, soft lips closed around hers. A hot flash of terror flared up her throat. Almost automatically, her hands flew to Carl's chest, pushing her away.

"No...not," she stammered. "I'm... what are you doing? I'm not..." And she fled past the girl to the farthest side of the room where she stood staring away, out of the window, seeing nothing, hearing nothing but the pounding of her blood.

"I... I'm sorry." Carl's voice seemed distant. "I thought... I'm sorry." Ariel tried to keep her eyes away from the girl, but she didn't miss the fierce blush that burned on her freckled face. Should she feel guilty? The girl had gotten her out of the awful dorm, hadn't she? How ungrateful was this? It had been just a kiss, for crying out loud. She felt awkward and, most of all, inadequate. Had there been lesbians at all back home? Of course, there must have been. Von and Barb and others had used the word often, just like dyke and butch. But that had always been a way to comment on looks, hair and clothes or the lack of make-up, hadn't it? Boys did it too. They would call someone homo, just like you might call them wimp or dumbo. Just words, no?

"Anyway," Carl said, throwing up her arms and grinning, "welcome, lil mermaid." As they stood, each in a corner of the room, Ariel wondered if she was just being a small-town hick who misunderstood it all. Maybe girls kissing was nothing special in California, where Carl came from? Maybe. But why the blushing and the apologies? And why the weakness in her knees? When she looked again, Carl had gone.

"Oh, goddam you, Ariel," she whispered to herself.

***

After minutes of deliberation, Ariel decided to stay. For now. She emptied her backpack and suitcase, filling the closet with her meagre belongings. Drab T-shirts, cotton boy-briefs, running gear, sweatshirts and jeans. Only the black leather jacket reminded her of what she called her 'enhanced ugliness' period. And the Dr. Martins, of course. When she was done, Ariel wandered off to the kitchen that she shared with Carl. She was afraid the girl might be there, but the place was empty. It looked nice, with a cozy breakfast counter. Getting a snack and some water from the fridge, Ariel sat down. Thoughts jumbled through her head, making it hard to see any logic. So, the girl was a lesbian, okay. But why would she presume that Ariel was too? Could people see if you were a lesbian? Maybe people who were lesbian themselves could see it? And if so, what gave it away? Carl was skinny, flat and ugly; was that it? Ariel didn't know any lesbian girls, either fat or skinny. Online she'd seen fat-titted porn stars doing it with other fat-titted porn stars, but that was porn, wasn't it? They pretended for the guys watching. Then an uneasy question wormed its way in. What if it were the very ugliness? The flatness, the skinny arms and legs? If boys hated girls for that, would that leave the ugly ones with no other option but to fuck each other? She brought her hands to her face, pressing her fingertips on her closed eyes. It was so... unfair, so cruel... it must be true. But if so, did that mean she was a lesbian even if she didn't know? Was Carl right? She'd loved to be with Tim, had loved to be in his arms, kissing him, dreaming of being fucked by him. Hadn't she? Yes, she had, but it had all been an illusion, too, hadn't it? A joke. It had never been real.

She felt the heat of tears pressing against her fingertips.

***

Things were awkward for a few days, but Carl was too bubbly and outgoing to let it go on. School started, which provided distraction and a lot of hours they didn't see each other. When weekend came, Carl took her to yet another party, an outdoor function at a lake. It was a picnic really with snacks and beer. There were not just girls there, this time, and a lot of teasing went on with girls jumping into the water and boys chasing them. Carl wore a green bikini, showing off her ribs and knuckles. Ariel felt overdressed in her old one-piece under a T-shirt. She stayed away from the lake, watching the spectacle from under a tree.

"You're new, aren't you?" The boy looked nerdy in glasses and a weird T-shirt. "I'm Brian," he said as he sat down, crossing his white, hairy legs. "Care for a beer?" He offered a bottle, Ariel shook her head no. Then she told him her name.

"Lovely name," he said and started the usual series of questions about what she studied and where she came from. He was from here and lived with his parents. Of course he did. And of course, he studied IT. Ariel's eyes wandered off to the swimmers in the lake. So, nothing had changed, however far she'd travelled: the boring would find the ugly. She mumbled an excuse. Then she rose to her feet, pulled her shirt over her head and ran to the lake, splashing in.

***

Weeks went by, filled with a million impressions, some new, some old-same-old. College students weren't per se very different from high school seniors, she learned, except for one thing: many of them were away from home. It made them think they were 'free'. And maybe they were indeed cleverer, on the average. But Ariel's trained eye just as easily sifted out the Lucinda Dells and the Alice Browns, playing princess and chasing the jocks just as hard, maybe a fraction more sophisticated. And, of course, there was the circus of fraternities and sororities. Carl said she never even tried to get into one. She had her own band of sisters, she said, winking and licking her lips. To her annoyance, Ariel felt herself blush at that, which made Carl laugh out loud. She stepped closer and caressed her cheek. Ariel shook herself free. Carl chuckled before walking off.

Stepping under the shower that night, Ariel thought, not for the first time, she should leave Carl and return to the dorm, however drab it was. Whenever she saw the girl, things became awkward, at least to Ariel. Carl only laughed and flirted. More often than not, she found her in their kitchen strutting about naked or just wearing panties, never ashamed of her ugly body or absent tits. Under the shower, Ariel started soaping her chest and arm pits, feeling her slippery nipples harden. She hadn't touched herself like this in days. A familiar heat spread through her skin as she pressed one tiny breast against a hand palm. Arching her back and stretching her long legs intensified the feeling until she stood on her toes, softly moaning. The hot water hissed around her, white steam filling the glass cube.

"Mmmm," a voice said. "Deeelicioussss." A cold draught touched Ariel's body as a hand cupped a hip. Through the clouds she saw a freckled face framed in moist strings of dark red hair. Ariel stumbled back, pressing her naked body into the tiles, protesting about privacy. But the hands stayed, as did soft lips. A tongue licked the water off a nipple, tightening it, making it shiver.

"Don't tell me you hate this," Carl whispered as her mouth reached Ariel's ear, her body pushing. She felt slick and rough at once, because she still wore a T-shirt that became soaked enough to get translucent. "I know you're afraid, but you love this. Tell me you love this. And this. And this. Of course, you love it all. Tell me."

Ariel knew it wasn't true, but was it? While her body got overwhelmed, her mind slunk away. It felt as if it were floating up to the ceiling, looking down on two pink, writhing bodies cloaked in a misty veil. Panic strangled her. She should resist, shouldn't she? This wasn't her. The mouth and the fingers found niches that lit up with electricity. At last, a tongue invaded her pussy, dashing and squirming like a worm, touching all the right places, aching spots her own fingers had visited so often. Without thinking, her hands closed around the head, fingers caught in tangled hair. Her mind got lost in an ever-tightening spiral of feelings. Then she came. Her knees buckled and her wet back slid down the tiles. Time passed before she woke up from the now cold water drumming down on her. She felt Carl's spindly arms around her. They shared shivers and a wet, lasting kiss.

"My God," the girl sighed, rising up to shut off the icy downpour. "Come, let's get something to dry ourselves with." Things felt distant. Every movement had a floating quality, like slow motion. Only when, minutes later, they were dressed again, thoughts started to clear up Ariel's mind. So, she had done it with a girl. Or rather, the girl had done it to her. But she had come. Hard, she admitted; she'd come like not often before, if she'd be really honest; the glow still radiated from her body. Carl had made her come using fingers and a tongue. She had gone where Ariel's fingers had been so often before, hadn't she? Nothing new there. One might say: she'd been Ariel's fingers; it had been like masturbating by proxy, hadn't it? That didn't make her a lesbian. Not by a long way.

"I'm not a lesbian," she said. Carl chuckled.

"Of course you're not," she agreed.

***

Things were awkward and then they weren't and then they were again. One moment Ariel loved Carl for her sweet, outgoing nature, never seeing problems, always making the world seem like a party and sharing it with her. Ariel hung on to her. It was great fun to walk in her vibrant shadow, being invited everywhere. She met amazing, self-assured girls and unabashed gay-acting guys. And they all seemed to be really interested in her. Carl was a dancer; Ariel never was, but it seemed so very easy to dance now, and laugh and even sing. Wherever Carl went, it stopped raining. Whatever Carl proposed, everyone wanted to be part of it. To her, life was a playground and soon it felt like that for Ariel as well. But when she lay on her bed at night, still dizzily gasping after another day of breathtaking energy, she could only wonder what was up or down. How could an ugly girl like Carl be so popular with her bony body, her big greedy mouth and absolute lack of curves? Was it because she'd flipped the switch? Had she decided that if boys didn't want her, she didn't need them? Was that the trick? Was that what this lesbian thing was all about? And should she go there too?

Carl kissed her a lot: real, wet kisses. And she hugged her all the time and everywhere. That was when self-consciousness seemed to return with a vengeance. Ariel tried not to give away how it made her feel. She tried not to suddenly freeze, not to lose her smile, making sure to return the kisses and the hugs. But it always took her a split second; it always had to be a conscious decision.

"Are you still awake, Ari?" Carl stood silhouetted against the half-open door, not wearing much. "O God, sorry, you were sleeping," she added. But she didn't close the door to leave.

"It's all right," Ariel said. "How could I sleep? I'm still deaf from the music. And tipsy, too." It was all the girl needed to open the door wider and step in. Jumping on the bed, she put an arm at each side of Ariel's head, leaning in until her curls tickled Ariel's face.

"Wasn't it great fun?" she whispered, the evening's cheap red wine still on her breath. Ariel agreed. Carl tumbled to her side, slipping under the sheets. Her body felt cold as she pressed it against her. "I so don't want to sleep yet. Do you?" Ariel shivered. "Oh, you're nice and warm!" Carl cried out, wrapping her arms and legs even tighter around her.

"You're cold and you strangle me," Ariel gasped. Carl giggled and let go. Then she pushed herself up on her right elbow, looking down on Ariel. Her eyes gleamed in the dark.

"You are so beautiful," she said; there was not a glimpse of irony. Ariel groaned, turning away. "I know, I know by now," Carl went on. "You have this crazy idea that you're ugly. I get that, but really, I don't. It's so silly." Ariel felt the girl's fingers slip under the T-shirt she wore as a nightie. Once more, their tips did their magic wherever they touched, making her shiver again. She didn't want her skin to do this, did she? The fingertips stopped at her belly button, then climbed up to her nipples. "Tell me you're beautiful," Carl whispered, her lips almost against Ariel's ear. "Because you are." Ariel wanted to push her away, or run away herself, but she didn't. What she did was turning her head towards the whispering lips until she touched them with her own; not because she wanted to, but because it seemed she had to. Soft pillows met soft pillows; a warm wet tongue slid between them. Fingers left her right nipple, traveling downwards to find the downy hair over her pussy. Ariel didn't close her legs, she pushed herself up against the fingers, moaning into the kissing mouth.

***

Lying alone in a chaos of sheets and pillows, Ariel had no idea where the maelstrom in her head started or ended. She'd been having sex with the girl again, hadn't she? And she'd come, again. And then she'd done this other thing... After Carl had made Ariel come, twice, the girl had traveled up from her soaked pussy, almost absent-mindedly licking a hot track across sweaty, shivering skin. Looming over Ariel, her face gleaming, her hair a mess, she'd grinned.