I Have Made Love

Dearest reader

I hope you are well. You might want to read

I have seen love

and

I have touched love

before this for context and backstory. Or not: it will work by itself.

This story is part of the wonderful

"Pink Orchid 2025: Story Event for Women-Centric Erotica".

Thanks to

Omenainen

for organising it.

Many thanks to

Mykymyk2

for editing.

Happy reading!

T x

____________________________________

Autumn 2002

The capoeira demonstration is in full swing, a swirl and whirl of hands and feet, as white clad observers clap and chant. I don't think I want to sign up, but as I've never seen it before, I'm happy to watch for a bit.

Chas shifts and fidgets next to me. She's the only one of the girls from my hall of residence floor not too hungover to make it to the Freshers' fair this early. I wanted to beat the crowds, but even at 11am, the Union building is heaving.

"Um, Mikayla, if you're happy watching this for a bit, I'm going to head up a floor." She points to the floorplan of the Freshers' fair she'd picked up. "I wanna check out the African Students' Society."

I look at the map. "Nah it's cool, I'll come with you."

"No, honestly, I'll come back, you stay here."

"No, no worries, I want to head that way anyway." I turn away from the display and start to consider a path through the tables and crowds that fill the exhibition space.

"Really?" She's hesitant, though I don't know her that well so it's hard to get a read on her. We only met three days ago after all, though I immediately felt like we could be friends. I now recall her saying that her family was originally from Ghana.

"Yeah," I say, forcing myself to stand a little straighter, "I want to go to the Lesbian Gay Alliance stall. That's right next to it."

Her eyes bug out and she quickly looks left and right, as if worried that somebody might have heard.

Stopping, I turn to her. "Is it a problem for you that I'm gay?" I ask. I could have sworn most of the girls on our floor knew - I hadn't been shy about it - but maybe she wasn't there at that point.

"No, no, no," she's quick to reassure, hand on my arm. She looks around furtively, then lowers her voice even further as we move out of the flow of the crowd. "Um.... I wanted to go there too."

Smiling, I nod. The thought had occurred to me. Not as a potential partner - she's not unattractive - her skin is glorious - but she's not my type.... but I had wondered whether she swung my way.

"Let's go together then."

She grins, broad and wide and, yes, okay, she does have a lovely smile.

We weave our way through the growing crowds in the Bilko building, heading to the stairwell and the second floor. I've already signed up for the hockey club - I would have liked to have kept playing netball too, but honestly I don't have the stature - but I'm open to joining another society if something interesting chances to catch my eye.

Then something does.

Ahead of us, just walking away from the Fuse FM stand, is the most perfect bum I've ever seen. I mean, Beccy's was nice - not that I ever got to see it uncovered - but this is glorious. Firm, round, swelling the skirt, brightly patterned, that encases it, twin globes moving in synchronised unison, my heart beat matching that perfect pace in an instant. The colourful cropped top she wears reveals a broad swathe of brown back between the sumptuous shelf this beautiful butt is forming.

A side-eyed look at Chas shows she is similarly rapt.

Almost instinctively, we decelerate as somebody on the Stage Technicians' table calls out to the goddess ahead of us, but though she slows to blow a kiss back, she doesn't stop and stays mercifully ahead of us.

The ghost of Sappho is surely smiling on us both, as this beauty with long straight tresses trailing over her shoulders mounts the stairs ahead of us.

My mouth waters and I probably have a disaster in my boxers right now. With each step up a stair in her high heels, the motion of her muscles threatens to cause me to combust.

We silently follow, eyes glued. I would be so embarrassed if she turned around and saw me letching like this. I'm shocked at myself, not just for staring, but for how much I'm just aching for this girl!

Amazingly, she seems to be going to the same place as, when a group of guys block our view for a moment, I see the rainbow banner of the Lesbian Gay Alliance hanging from a wall up ahead.

I wasn't praying before, but now I am. Please let her be gay!

She stops just before the table, where two skinny guys and a short-haired girl with what seems to be the largest collection of badges stand nervously. She seems to hesitate for a moment.

"Ramona! Eeeee!" A short black girl with an impressive head-dress dashes over to her, embraces her, then drags her over to the neighbouring stand, talking in a language I don't recognise.

A loud colourful banner proclaims it to be the African Students' Society.

I sigh, deep to my bones. Seems like it was not to be.

With a knowing smirk in my direction, Chas follows her - perhaps she

had

always planned to sign up for the African Society too - and I briefly consider joining too. I mean, technically, all societies are open to everyone. But no. I stand there listless, deflated.

Chas is immediately greeted warmly, all smiles, and offered something to eat, white and fluffy, which she seems delighted with and dips into something. But I'm only peripherally aware of that.

Instead, I'm gazing at the gorgeous face, the chiselled cheekbones, the glowing skin of the owner of that glorious behind. She smiles shyly behind the long straight curtains of dark, glossy hair that hang down from a slightly off-centre parting. She has her hands clasped in front of her as she nods and smiles and laughs as Chas and the head-dress wearing lady chatter to each other.

I sigh to myself. If only. Dream on Mikayla.

And then her head turns slightly and her dark eyes catch mine.

Did my heart love ´til now?

The dull flame of desire rushes through me, from the very crown top to the tips of my toes, while my body vibrates as if with fever.

Oh, this is bad.

Is it wishful thinking that she smiles and lowers her head, but then raises her eyes again to me to gaze through downcast lashes? Do I dream the trace of a blush on her dark skin?

"Hey? You looking to sign up?"

"Huh?" The badge-girl is staring at me expectantly. I shake myself. Deep breath. Spine straight. Be proud. "Uh, yeah, please."

I flick my eyes back to find the African beauty has turned away from me, displaying her perfect profile, but I catch - or do I imagine it? - the flicker of her eyes in my direction. My heart is racing. I force my attention back to badge-girl.

After adding my name and email to the society membership list, I pay my subs - four pounds - and get my card. I am now, officially, a card carrying lesbian.

"That's all it takes? There's no test?"

"Nah! You're good," badge-girl replies with a smile.

"You mean I memorised all those Indigo Girls' lyrics for nothing!" That gets a laugh.

"Sounds like time well spent. I'm Jen, Second Year Maths geek and LGA social secretary this year."

"Mikayla, nice to meet you." I shake her proffered hand.

"We're organising welcome drinks tonight in the bar. Meet at 7. First drink is free for new members. Come along and meet the crew."

"Great, thanks, I might do just that." I've been out with my new friends from hall for the past two nights, so I won't feel bad about blowing them off this evening. "I'll see if my friend Chas wants to come."

As if on cue, I see Chas hugging goodbye to the women on the African Society stall.

"It was sooo lovely to meet you Chas. We will see you again, yes? Maybe tonight?" I hear head-dress lady call.

"Thank you, you too!" Chas gives a wave and walks over to me. "Here, Mikayla, try this. Fufu! This is my childhood right here!" She proffers me a small, shiny, ping pong sized ball. It's squidgy.

"Thanks." I say, slightly unsure. "Do I eat it?"

She laughs at me. "Of course. Ramona made it." She gestures back to the goddess behind.

I look over to see her watching me. I smile and raise the pale sphere, as if toasting her, then bring it to my lips.

To be honest, it could have tasted like soap and I would still have made a show of loving it. The reality is that it is simply bland. Spongy, stodgy, it doesn't really taste of anything and could do with seasoning.

I chew and swallow and contort my face in a pantomime show of appreciation while Ramona hides her bright, beautiful mouth behind her elegant hands and giggles.

"Mmmm," I say, "pretty good."

Chas barks a laugh. "Liar!" Her accent seems suddenly more pronounced, the 'r' more of an 'h'. "You are meant to eat it with soup. It is too bland otherwise. He!"

I don't let her throw me off, but smile back at Ramona. She beams at me, until her head-dress wearing friend jogs her arm and frowns at her.

"So, Chas, you signing up then?" I gesture at the LGA table. "I was hoping you'd come with me to a welcome drink tonight."

"Oh, yeah." She scratches the back of her neck, but makes no move towards the table. "The African Society are having welcome drinks tonight too."

"Where? Maybe we can do both?"

"We?" She gives me a look.

"Yes, we.... Anyway, where?"

"Here in the bar."

"Snap. So are they. Great, we can do both!"

She doesn't seem thrilled at this. She glances back at the table for the African Students' Society, but both women are now occupied with newcomers, proffering the food they have.

"Screw it, let's do it." She marches up to the LGA table, where Jen welcomes her with a smile, and adds her name to the list.

Looking over at Ramona again, who is just as gorgeous from the front as behind I've decided, I see her staring wistfully over at us. Her friend turns, laughing, but then her eyes seem to land on Chas, who is passing over her money to Jen, and all smiles stop. A sharp click of the tongue cuts through the chatter of the crowd and a look that can only be disgust crosses her face.

Ramona's eyes are cast down immediately. She looks chastised, but when she raises them to mine I see a horror there, the horror of embarrassment.

Oh. She hadn't realised. And now she has, she's revolted.

Yeah. Seen that before. At least she isn't screaming drunken homophobic obscenities at us. Poor Beccy - I don't think she ever got over her friend's reaction to her coming out. Kind of doomed us before we'd really started.

But I'm not going to hide away.

Standing a little straighter, I pin back my shoulders and stare her full in the face. I smile and shrug.

"All done," Chas says. "Anything else you want to check out?"

"Not really, but I'm happy to wander with you." I deliberately link my arm through hers.

Chas seems momentarily surprised, but then smiles. "Cool, let's go."

"See you later, Jen," I call to the badge girl who waves back.

I can't resist one last glance back over my shoulder at Ramona as we leave.

I swear she looks sad.

_____________________________

"Nice to meet you. I'm just going to go check on my friend. Maybe see you around." I politely detach myself from the rather older, rather butch woman who had button-holed me and head over to where Chas is chatting to a delicate nymphette of a brunette. Judging by her smile, Chas has recovered from her initial knockback: when we entered the bar she wanted to first head over to the AfriSoc gang in the corner, only to get the coldest of shoulders from the society president, the woman who had been so effusive in her greeting earlier. Apparently she's called Charity. Oh the irony.

Anyway, Chas has definitely bounced back and doesn't look all too happy as I come over. I move to reassure her that I won't interrupt her little tête-a-tête: "just going to the bar Chas. Do you want another?"

I take her wave for a negative.

But as I head to the bar, I see a familiar figure detach itself from the AfriSoc crowd and head in the direction of the toilets. Ramona. The beautiful Ramona. Whom I've been watching all evening. Her dress of black and gold clings to her shapely form, catching the lights as she strides the floor like a catwalk.

I watch her go, wishing I had the guts to go after her.

Fuck it. It's the first week of Uni. It's practically the law that you start up conversations with random strangers.

I tail her to the loos. I quickly enter a cubicle but just stand there, listening for a flush.

When I hear one, I flush the toilet and exit, hoping we'll come out at the same time.

Success!

She's just ahead of me, and hearing my door open, lifts her eyes to the mirror to catch mine.

I flash her what I hope is my best smile.

"Oh, hi! Ramona, right?"

A flash of something - Fear? Excitement? - rushes across her face and is gone.

"Yes. Hi?"

"Hi I'm Mikayla." I join her at the sinks and wash my hands. "My friend Chas gave me some of the fufu you made earlier. It was yum."

She looks puzzled for a moment then light dawns. "Oh, yes, that's what they call it in Ghana. For me, it is always kawunga."

"Sorry, what did you call it?"

"Kawunga. It is very traditional." She speaks without a trace of an accent - I would swear she was English.

"Where's that from? And how come you don't have an accent?"

She laughs, high and musical, and turns to pat her hands dry on the towel. I move next to her to wait for my turn. I force my eyes up to her face.

"It's a Lugandan word, from Uganda. I'm from Entebbe. But I've been at boarding school here in England since I was thirteen."

"Wow, whereabouts?"

"The

Grange

? It's in the Cotswolds, not far from Cheltenham."

"Ah, not too far from me: I'm from Bristol."

She smiles and steps back, allowing me to take my turn to dry my hands. "What a beautiful city. I've visited it a few times."

"Yes it is lovely. So what are you studying Ramona?"

"Electrical Engineering. I'm in my second year."

The surprise must show on my face - I would be rubbish at poker - as she laughs. "Not what you were expecting I see!"

"No, not really. But good for you! Can I ask what interested you in it?"

"Oh, well," she begins as we move towards the door. I step forward quickly to hold it open for her, getting a nod of thanks. "My father runs a garage, but he has fat fingers. When I was little, he would always call me to undo the small screws, or solder something, or insert wires into spaces too small for him when he was doing repairs. And I was very curious, always asking him what things did and how, and he would explain. Plus, I did very well in Science subjects."

"Ah, that's a sweet story." I immediately find myself wondering how a Ugandan mechanic - even one who runs his own business - can afford a Cotswold boarding school.

It's like she reads my mind, as she laughs again. "It's my mother who has the money - import and export. Textiles, ceramics, hair care, you name it." She twirls a finger in her tresses.

"I really like your hair." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

She laughs, sweetly. "Thanks! It's not mine though."

"You have a lovely laugh."

A warm smile spreads across her face, and a bashful look comes into her eyes.

"And a beautiful smile." I'm not sure but maybe she's blushing. Is that a good sign? Her hands are clasped in front of her.

We stop walking. We are almost back at the bar. I can see the hesitation on her face. She is enjoying talking to me but wary of what her AfriSoc friends will say if we are seen together.

I sigh. Time to face reality.

"It's okay," I say, "you go in first. I'll wait a minute or so before I come in, so your friends don't think we've been chatting."

She covers her face with her hands. Her shoulders shake. Is she crying?

"Hey, hey," I say, wanting but not daring to put an arm around her, "I didn't mean to upset you."

"No," she cries, her voice muffled through her hands, "it's not that."

The doors open and she stiffens, but the white guy walking past clearly wants nothing to do with emotional girls and says nothing.

"Look, shall we find somewhere and chat," I say, as sweetly as I can.

She swallows and nods, and follows me as I look for somewhere.

We end up just sitting next to each other on a darkened stairwell. I sit one step up from her, so we're eye to eye. She isn't just taller than me because of the heels.

"Ramona, I didn't mean to upset you, I just thought that given the way AfriSoc gave my friend Chas the cold shoulder, you might get shit from them if they thought you'd been talking to a lesbian."

"You're not wrong." She looks at me through her wet eyes. "Are you a lesbian?"

I chuckle. "Yeah. A card carrying one, even."

"How did you know?"

Oh, this turn to the conversation seems promising. I slip into my usual spiel - it's not like I haven't had this question before! "I think that, on some level, I'd always known. I mean, I'm lucky - my aunt is a lesbian, she lives with her partner, they don't hide it, nobody tries to pretend that they are flatmates or 'just good friends' or anything. So I've always known it was a possibility and, yeah, that my family would be accepting."

"Yes, but when did you know?"

"Hmmmm. Well, a big clue was

Titanic

. My friends wanted to be

with

Jack, I wanted to

be

Jack." I lean in and whisper, "I've got a thing for Kate Winslet. I must have watched

Heavenly Creatures

twenty times."

"Have you... had a girlfriend?"

I sigh, "Yeah. But it didn't turn out so well. Her best friend blew up about it, and her family weren't much better. I think she's still unsure about what she wants. She's a year younger, so, you know, fair enough. We were only together for a few months, and we never got serious. No sleepovers. But we're still friends. Other than that, despite going to an all girls' school, no."

She's silent. Should I push? I decide to try waiting her out.

"I think I might be a lesbian."

I do a mental fist pump.

"Really? What makes you think that?" I ask, barely managing to keep the rising excitement out of my voice. Don't want to come on too strong here.

She shrugs and looks like she's about to cry again. "Oh, you know, just kissing a girl, sleeping with her repeatedly, falling in love with her and then going out with her for nine months."

She manages a half laugh.

I realise my mouth is open. I close it.

"Sounds like you're more of a lesbian than me!" I say. "I'm just a theoretical lesbian - you sound like you're getting As in the practicals."

She smiles slyly at that. "I am good with my hands."

We both burst out laughing. My eyes alight on those gorgeous fingers of hers, now covering her smiling mouth, and I can't help but hope that I get to find out for myself.

Our laughter eventually dies out.

"So, I'm guessing that Uganda doesn't have a particularly progressive attitude towards gays and lesbians then?"

She shakes her head. "If I was lucky, I'd get bundled off to a convent; unlucky, I'd get a dose of 'corrective rape' or even be killed. My parents wouldn't support me. They couldn't. They'd lose all their clients, their business, their social standing. Not that they'd want to support me." She doesn't sound bitter or hurt, so much as resigned.

I bite my tongue to stop myself from saying something trite and glib - learned that the hard way with Beccy. "That must be really tough for you."