This story is a slow burn, so if you are looking for a story to fulfil a need, this may not be it. It is a story based in facts, with a healthy dose of fiction and a generous amount of fantasy. It is up to the reader to tell the difference. All of the participants are over 18.
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I have been asked to explain what a Beat is? In Australia, the term beat is used to refer to an area frequented by gay men, where sexual acts occur, almost always anonymously. I'd like to acknowledge the help I got from Rockahula for his editing, and guidance, not only with this story but some of my other works and of the sweet Pixieoff, for her genuine encouragement and general hints. I strongly recommend you read some of her stories and visit her in the chat room called Emily's Escorts.
Mary Elizabeth Haughton was 46 when she decided to go looking for that something she knew was missing in her life. Not unhappily married, but unfulfilled. Contented would describe her state of being. A common enough story. Semi adult children who no longer rely on their mum, except when they want the car or money. To describe herself she would say she was very ordinary, nothing outstanding about her. But in fact she had a pretty face, in her youth she would have been described as gorgeously stunning, by most men. She had shoulder length red hair, thinning and with a hint of grey around the edges. Like most women her age, she carried a few extra kilos, not overweight but not her slim self she once was. her skin was fair and her freckles across her nose was one of many features that stood out. Her bosoms were still firm but gravity was starting to take charge. She had long slender fingers that any pianist would be proud of, not that she played. Humming was her sole musical talent. She still had a waist line and generous hips, her backside was of a fullish nature. Her legs were long and firm, not an athlete by any stretch of the imagination, but as she still walked daily, rather than drive, it was very helpful and kept her healthy. And of course helped to keep her in shape.
She had been in some the chat rooms of various sites, a bit of fun, some saucy encounters that had left her needing to scratch after an itch had been activated by others. You know what I mean.
It was after one of these general discussions, in the Lit Lesbian chat room about where a curious woman could go, discretely, that sparked her into actually seeing if all the chatter was fake and fiction, a bit of fantasy or whether in fact it was true. She had no idea where to start. She didn't know of any lesbians, well not that she was aware of, and none of her close friends were. So no one she was close to, to actually sit down with and ask. This was going to have to be done on her own if she was going to do it at all.
The toing and froing went on for weeks, yes she was, then no she wasn't. The turmoil in her mind was both a preoccupation and a distraction. So much so even Paul her husband commented a couple of times,
"you seemed to be away with the Pixies of late, what's on your mind?" a smile and a shake of the head usually put to rest any half hearted attempts to 'talk about it'.
Finally after another session online and a wonderful discussion with a woman called Monica69, and the need to scratch a big itch, her mind was made up. She had to do this. If for no other reason just to prove it to herself. Was it all fantasy and fiction and there was no such thing as a beat for gay women or as in her case an extremely curious bi middle aged, mother of 3 who wanted to try but still hold on to her life.
Where to start she thought. Maybe go to a gay focused club or café. Sure but how to find them. Never having ventured into their world, where to find these places? Google of course. with her hands shaking, she slowly typed in 'lesbian clubs in Adelaide', not that many thank god, she thought, and all in the CBD and all closed during the day, opening at 9pm mostly. Great she thought, well that ends that. As she started to scroll down the page, a sign came up the Mylk Bar, open during the day and closed at night. She wondered to herself. And thought, why not, go out for a lunch date, albeit on her own, but it might help her to become accustomed to actually getting off her backside and actually doing something positive about it. She set her herself a target date, took a deep breath and wrote down the address and phone number. She put the note pad to one side and stated on making up her grocery list, then after one word, she slammed the pencil down and looked at the the phone number again. What harm would it do? What's the worse that could happen? All it was she explained to herself was a simple lunch, good grief how many times have I been out to lunch on her own these past few years. It is no big deal, why did she have to justify it to herself. She knew why, of course. She was so confused.
She picked up her mobile and dialed the number, and waited while it rang, and rang and rang.......my god why is it taking so long to answer she thought. Just as she was about to hang up and give it a miss, a very sweet voice answered the phone,
"The Mylk Bar, how may I help you." She took short break before she answered
"Oh sorry I was day dreaming" she lied, "Can I make a booking for one please."
"Of course you can, what day?" Mary hesitated, not sure, so answered quickly with out thinking, "Next Wednesday."
"Let me check, Wednesdays are always busy for single ladies." The sweet voice said and then promptly answered "That's no problem and what name is it?"
"Mary Haughton" came the quick response "OK Mary, and what times suits you?"
"Would 12:30 be ok?" She asked.
"Of course it is and that's confirmed then Mary, 12:30 next Wednesday the 27th for one. Done, we'll see you there then."
"Thank you" Mary nervously replied. She hung up the phone and looked at her shaking hand. Not realizing just how nervous she was. Oh My God, what have I done she thought to herself. She took a deep breath, several in fact. I need to do this, for no other reason than to see how it makes me feel. A weak smile came to her lips as she went about her daily boring routine.
