Chapter One
(Friday 18th October 2002)
Walking to the Dolly Blue, full of anticipation, Viola regretted her usual day-to-day clobber. If she had known she was going to be invited out on a date she would have dressed rather differently. That is to say, she would have if she'd known she was going to be invited out on "the" date she couldn't possibly refuse.
Given the choice she'd have made a totally different decision.
But miracles do happen and, caught unawares, she was stuck with old, frayed jeans, trainers and a sweatshirt which bore the legend that:
CONSTIPATED MATHEMATICIATIANS WORK IT OUT WITH A PENCIL.
As if she was a mathematician!
And as if she didn't have a perfectly good calculator!!
In reality she was a student at a university based in Lancashire, in an old mill town not a million miles away from her home turf of Manchester. She was in her final year; ebony-skinned, allegedly a Naomi Campbell lookalike . . . and she'd just been summoned by the head of the Lesbian Society.
A week ago she wouldn't have believed it. A week ago she'd been at the most curious and definitely a scaredy cat. Watching a lesbian video online now and then had been as close as she'd ever intended to get to that sort of behaviour.
Except her behaviour had changed, and rather abruptly at that.
Hadn't it just!
It wasn't so long past four in the afternoon, still light this time of year but only for another hour or two. And her ETA had been accurate. She'd guesstimated ten minutes and was going to get there more or less on the nail.
She didn't know why, maybe it was because of the identity of her "date", but being punctual mattered to Viola. She didn't want to let anyone down, herself included.
Tits forward and smile, part of her brain reminded her. You'd pass muster anywhere under the sun, and you know it.
Taking a deep breath, she went into the pub and stopped in her tracks. After two years up here at uni she knew every pub in town. But this one, near to her place as it was, had been rarely visited. Back in the day it had been, in all fairness, unappetizing: horrid art deco on the outside, rundown inside. She'd been in once as a fresher, ticked it off her hit-list and left it at that.
Now the place had been transformed. Maybe some ITV makeover team had dropped by and she had missed the show.
Now, although the outside was horrendous as ever, the inside was classy, deep-carpeted and clearly catered for diners before drinkers.
Joy was standing by the bar, a small glass of wine in her hand as she watched the entrance. Seeing Viola she waved to attract her attention.
Right, as if she wasn't eye-catchingly gorgeous herself. Why bother with a wave when everybody was looking at her in the first place?
Not that Viola was about to complain. She was only too happy to looked-out-for by far and away the most attractive woman in the establishment, if not the whole town.
'Hiya, she said, quickly closing the distance between them.
Joy was intriguingly older, maybe as antiquated as twenty-three or twenty-four, and well over six feet tall. On first sight Viola had reckoned six-foot-one but, as she joined her at the bar, she realized it was more like six-two or six-three. At five ten Viola was usually the tallest girl in the room. Giving away four or five inches, she felt . . .
Well, "inadequate" wasn't the word. She felt more than adequate. In fact she felt as if she and Joy had been made for each other.
Height aside, Joy had short, spiky red hair and a body to die for; she really did. Big tits, an hour-glass figure, a sexy ass and legs that were miles long. She also had an amazingly quirky smile; one side of her mouth went up while the other went down.
And she could alternate sides, Viola noticed, her heart lurching and the temperature in her lower body rising. Maybe there was a reason behind it . . . maybe down at the left signified one thing and down at the right something else . . . but, whatever it might signify, the root cause was beyond her.
Well, it was with her in many ways, but ultimately beyond her.
No sign of the promised bottles of wine though, the pessimist in her reported. They must have been a sort of throwaway flirt.
Not that the optimist in her would settle for such negativity. Joy may be like a guy in that one way, her inner Pollyanna suggested brightly, but so what? She may only want reassurance before investing. It isn't as if vino comes cheap these days.
Prepared to reassure to hell and back, Viola returned Joy's welcoming smile.
'Here I am,' she said, 'better late than never.'
'You're not late; your timing is impeccable.'
Viola was canny enough to raise a cheeky eyebrow at that. Joy burst into peals of laughter.
'Go bag us a table,' she said. 'I'll get us some beer.'
*****
Most of the tables were laid out ready for diners but a handful of them were cutlery-free. Viola chose one in a corner and sat, watching Joy at the bar, admiring her easy confidence and glad she was also wearing everyday clobber.
To all appearances Joy had acted on impulse when issuing her invite.
But never mind that, what an utter, absolute babe she was. Her pale skin was dotted with hundreds of delightful light brown freckles, and not only on her lovely, appealing face. As she passed Viola her pint of Guinness she couldn't help but notice Joy's hands and wrists were freckled too.
Omigod, what if all her body is like that!
Oh yes, yes please!!
'So,' Viola said aloud, hoping her voice didn't sound too breathless, 'is this your local?'
'Sort of,' Joy replied. 'I prefer the Union Bar but when I go in there I always end up talking shop. And I do three evening surgeries as well as the regular weekly Wednesday meetings. As dedicated as I am, there's only so much shop talk I can take.' Her chuckle was soft, warm and delicious. 'The good thing about here is that the prices keep all those flipping students out.'
'What's a surgery?'
'It's a cross between an agony aunt and citizens' advice. Society members present me problems and I give them solutions. Leastways I usually do. If I can't, I'll know someone who can come up with some sort of an answer.'
'What sort of problems?'
'You name it, I get it. I've heard everything from less-than-normal grades to suicidal tendencies.'
'And you sort them all out?'
'Yes, with the occasional help from a battery of experts, I do.
'Sounds good,' Viola said sincerely. 'Where are these surgeries held?'
'They take place in our office in the Communal Building, at a safe distance from that revolting pit of a bar.'
'Surely you don't mean the Union.'
'Of course I don't. I mean that revolting dungeon which never sees daylight.'
No fan of the Communal Bar herself, Viola chuckled. 'I'll have to come along and have a look at your set-up. The more I can find out the better. I'm still very low down on the learning curve. And I'm still at a loss to understand exactly what all the different societies actually do.'
'There are only three which really matter,' said Joy. 'Shall I elaborate?'
'Please feel free.'
'The obvious one is LGBT,' Joy began. 'Our branch been going for the last ten years and is beyond reproach. A lot of my members are members of LGBT as well, because it's the perfect vehicle to get every single gay issue into the limelight; and in an appropriate way at that. But the individual meetings are very diverse. There are too many people with axes to grind, too many issues that have nothing at all to do with an honest-to-God lesbian in any way.'
'I can see that,' Viola said carefully.
'The newcomer is the Girls' Society,' Joy went on. 'That's only been going two years but it represents every woman in every imaginable way. I have to take my cap off to its founder, Rachael Brown. Hers has become the biggest society on campus. I think every last one of my members has joined up. And just about every straight woman has too. The Girls' Society isn't exclusively lesbian, you see.'
'And that's where your society comes in?'
'Too right it is. Anything else with "girl" or "lesbian" in its title is minor interest; for mountain-climbers or sub-aqua freaks or whatever. But my society really has been on the go since time began. Even if it is the smallest of the big three, it's always been the only one that focuses on women who have sex with women . . . and all of their various needs and complications.'
Viola secretly gulped. She'd been astounded to see around a hundred attendees at Joy's most recent weekly meeting. Just how many attended those other get-togethers? What was that statistic she had once read? Two percent of UK citizens admitted to being committed to same-sex relationships?
From what she'd seen two percent didn't seem anywhere near.
Maybe there were a lot of liars out there. Or maybe universities were different to other walks of life.
'You look thoughtful,' said Joy.
'You look scrumptious,' Viola replied without engaging her brain. Then, blushing furiously and glad her dark skin camouflaged her embarrassment, she went for more drinks.
Chapter Two
'Tell me about you,' said Joy, her light green eyes holding Viola's warm, dark brown ones. 'Tell me all about finding yourself.'
'I thought I did that the other day.'
'That was just gloss because we had an audience. I want to know more. I want to know how you were as a young girl.'
Joy's trademark smile made the request an imperative. It was impossible to deny.
Viola took a moment to consider her answer. 'I never thought I was different as a young girl,' she said truthfully. 'When I was at school the other girls were into Take That, Westlife and what have you. Me, I preferred Eddie Grant and Bob Marley, but that was for the music. I would never have thrown myself at them, if you know what I mean.'
'I suspect I do; I had a bit of a thing for Eddie Grant myself.'
'Did you really?'
'Yes and no.' Joy laughed. 'Forgive me, I'm just playing along. I only adored his voice, not his body. Please do continue.'
'Like I said, I didn't have any time for boy bands. They simply didn't do anything for me.'
