Author's note:
I wanted to share my deep appreciation for the wonderful recommendations made by the talented editor, neuroparenthetical.
A Tomboy and a Femme Enter A Bar
Sara rustled through her miniature handbag on the bar, unearthing her "Classic Red" lipstick, keys, and roller cylinder of perfume in one hand, before removing her ballet slipper-pink cell phone case with the other.
She loved how "put together" and minimalist she appeared with a small, efficient handbag in an adults-only space. This look differed radically from the "mom-sack" that she relied upon most days of the week by necessity—large enough to hold her laptop, child's sports water bottle, and potentially a change of shoes.
Sara repacked the contents of her high-maintenance purse, in the order that would allow its finicky magnetic clasps to meet and close. She checked the time on her cell phone: 9:15 pm. Her date was late, and anyone who knew her knew that she hated to be kept waiting.
She initiated a new text message screen, and had begun typing when a voice from over her left shoulder broke through over the hubbub.
"Do you come here often?" inquired a muscular brunette. She had a good 3 inches of height on Sara.
Sara couldn't help rolling her eyes at the over-used-to-the-point-of-ridiculousness line, even as she issued a wan smile, acknowledging the effort.
"Actually no," the buxom blonde said. "I'm waiting for someone. I was just texting her."
"Lucky her. I don't see a ring. Can I get you a drink while you wait?" the dapper woman pressed.
"I'd love a Manhattan," the green-eyed femme admitted, lips turning up slightly at the corners, as she attempted to suppress a grin.
The tomboy caught the hint of a grin and knew that her advance had been welcome.
Sara scanned her environs, checking out her competition. There were only a handful of lipstick lesbians in her immediate vicinity. It was mostly chapstick tonight, with a smattering of butches.
"So, do
you
come here often?" Sara posed.
"It's the only queer bar in town," the brunette replied with a wink, "so yeah, I've been here a few times. Tell me, what do you do for work?"
The women made small talk as they studied each other's features. Occasionally, their eyes would wander while listening. A particular blonde ringlet would gleam and catch the tomboy's attention, or the flesh of bare legs - far too much of it hidden, in her opinion, by a skirt that went down to mid-thigh. For her part, Sara studied the tomboy's thick belt, cinched tightly around her waist, and the boxers that were occasionally visible above it, depending upon how her shirt fell at any given moment.
There was definite sexual tension between them, fanned further by their evening's drinks.
"Have you ever seen the mural painted on the brick wall out behind the bar?" the tomboy asked. "There's something I'd like to show you there."
"That sounds like something that would be a real shame to miss seeing," Sara answered coyly.
"Are you sure the woman you're waiting for won't mind if you're not here when she arrives?" the tomboy asked. "I'm no homewrecker; I don't want any trouble."
"Not a problem," Sara said with a definitive nod of her head, her blonde curls bobbing eagerly.
"Well then, let's go," the tomboy said, scooting off of her bar stool and taking Sara's hand in hers. They wove their way through the crowd. The tall tomboy kept her hand nearly vertical, such that Sara followed closely behind her, practically on her heels.
Sara felt the familiar thumping of her heart in her chest. What exactly was she headed out back to see or do?
In 2022, most establishments had multiple cameras surrounding their property. While everyone understood that couples frequently hooked up in the bathrooms and such spots out back, she didn't want to worry about compromising videos of her circulating.
The sobering chill of the night air greeted the women as they opened the back door, leaving the cocoon of the bar.
