Jude couldn't believe Mel had been so unsympathetic. In many ways she saw Mel and Lucy as the perfect D/s couple. They had clearly defined roles: Mel the tough butch and Lucy the pretty femme. And yet, there was Mel doing the ironing. What on earth was that all about? Surely Mel could see that doing the ironing was degrading for a Domme, that it reduced her stature. How could a sub be respectful to a Domme who did the ironing?
But it was the things that Mel had said that had really got to her. She had been completely unsympathetic and had said that, somehow, she had 'pushed Karen away'. And then there was this nonsense about Friday nights, how they were on hold for a few weeks, how they wouldn't feel right without Karen. Although Mel had ducked the question, it was quite clear where she was pointing the finger of blame. What sort of friends were these, to turn on her like this? She had been so sure they were going to understand how she felt; and yet they had gone and taken Karen's side. Where was their loyalty?
She got into her car feeling hurt and confused. She'd already had a couple of drinks at the club, and probably shouldn't be driving; but, well, just as far as the next pub wouldn't hurt, would it? Weaving slightly as she pulled out, she drove the couple of hundred yards or so to the corner, into the car park of the Rose And Crown, where she parked up and went inside.
She went up to the bar and ordered a whiskey, no, make that a double, and, moments later, Bushmill's finest slid down her throat, warming her inside. She perched on a barstool and, hunched over her glass, took another sip and let the whiskey do its stuff.
"Do you want another?" the barman asked. Jude looked up and realised her glass was empty. She nodded and the barman poured her a refill. Another followed that one and Jude was just starting on yet another, when the door of the pub opened.
"Come along, Judy, you know you're barred," the barman called out.
"Be a love, just the one. Look, I've got the money."
The back of the bar was mirrored and, when Jude looked up, there, in the reflection, she saw a bag lady shuffling across the pub, holding out a handful of loose change in front of her. However, the barman had come round from behind the bar and had started to kindly but firmly guide her back towards the door. Jude stared at the woman and then at the glass in front of her and her whole world seemed to shift. Sure, this wasn't the first bag lady she'd seen; pulling the drunks out of the gutter was part and parcel of her job, albeit one she didn't particularly relish. But why in Hell did this one have to be called Judy? There was even a faint physical resemblance. But she wasn't a drunk, was she? Jude thought back over the previous week and realised she'd been tipsy, and that was putting it mildly, every day since she and Karen had split. She felt as if she were standing on the brink of an abyss, teetering on the edge. That forlorn figure being guided out of the door was her future unless she did something about it now. She put down her unfinished drink and walked out into the night. There, standing in the car park was Judy, the bag lady.
"Judy, Judy, wait up!" she called out after the shuffling figure. Judy just turned and stared.
"There's a shelter, just down in Crown Street," Jude continued. "You can get a cup of tea there."
"Don't want tea. I just need a little drink and that bastard...." Judy muttered.
"Please, let me help you," Jude said firmly.
"Don't want help, don't need help, just want a little drink, that's all," Judy said in reply.
"Now come along...." Jude started.
"Go 'way," Judy snarled, "I don't need you, I don't need anyone, I just need a drink."
At this point, had she been on duty, Jude would have had a number of options. Now, off duty and more than a little worse for wear, she could do nothing. She just stood and watched as the bag lady shuffled off. The stubborn pigheaded fool, Jude thought to herself before, once again, realising that the description fitted them both.
"I don't need anyone, I just need a drink." That's what Judy had said and the words resonated deep within Jude. She felt as if the very ground beneath her feet had been whipped away and she was lost, floating, falling; she needed to go somewhere, anywhere, anywhere but here, although for the life of her she didn't know why. She thought of going home but her house would be empty and lonely. She thought of calling up one of her friends but, after her roasting from Mel, she wasn't sure what reception she would get; anyway, ten thirty at night is a little late to go calling. She went over to her car, got in and tried to start it, but she was so uncoordinated she couldn't get the key in the lock. The realisation hit her that she was too far over the limit even to consider driving. She got out again, and, reeling slightly, locked the car after three tries, and walked away.
More out of something to do than any real hunger, she walked towards a kebab stand that she knew could be found just around the corner. She'd eaten there often when on duty and their kebabs were not too inedible. She ordered a doner with everything and took it outside and started walking. Anything just to keep moving.
Ten minutes later Jude threw the soggy remains of the paper bag that had once held the doner into a waste bin. Now that she was walking it seemed like she just had to carry on; it wasn't that she was going anywhere, it was simply the thing to do as her mind churned over the night's events. So far the fortress of her pigheaded self-confidence was holding fast, but it was under siege from two fronts. Firstly there was the way the group, her so called friends, had apparently ostracised her, had taken Karen's side and effectively banned her from Friday nights. Suddenly she was the outsider, the one who didn't fit, and that brought back all sorts of memories of school days, of crushed emotions, hidden feelings and an overarching loneliness.
But if the past was painful so too was the glimpse of the abyss into which she was falling. Just because she could still afford Bushmills, and had yet to descend to Special Brew out of a can shakily gripped in a paper bag, didn't detract from the fact that her first reaction to Mel's harshness had been to head for the pub and that wasn't the first time she had done so. She couldn't deny it, she had been drunk every day since... every day since... every day.
Damn it, damn it, damn it! Why had she been so weak and let this happen to her? Karen was just supposed to be a bit of fun. She was just supposed to be a game, a silly little straight girl whose world she would rock, and then and then... but if anybody's world had been rocked it wasn't Karen's, it was Jude's. But what was it that Karen wanted from her? If she didn't want Jude the Domme then what other Jude was there?
Jude's meanderings had led her down to the river, and she turned right towards the promenade. On one side the closed arcades looked empty and forlorn; on the other the low tide had exposed acres of exposed mudflats dotted with the occasional pleasure boat. The streetlight's yellow glow reflected on the oily surface, giving it an extra air of desolation. She leaned against a railing and stared out across the estuary, not staring at anything in particular, just staring. A sudden squall brought with it a shower of rain and Jude turned up her collar; all those nights on the beat meant that she wasn't bothered by a drop of rain. But this rain had set in for good and, as the shower turned to a downpour, she just stood, leant against the railing, staring out to sea.
"Excuse me, are you OK?"
Jude turned to see who was calling her. A police panda car had pulled up at the curb and a copper had got out and was coming towards her.
"Oh, it's you. Hello, Jude. A bit damp to be out at this time of night."
"Hi, George," Jude replied. "I just needed some fresh air."
George gave her a long hard look.
"Are you sure you're OK? You don't look it. I could give you a lift home if you want. Sarge won't need to know."
