SS48:
"Hungry Like The Wolfgirl"
*****
This is an experiment, something a little different and unique. Seemed an interesting idea to play with. Now and then I like to toss a non-real-life, other-worldly fantasy story in with the others to keep alive the sense of wonder, and to indulge my fascination with myth and magic. Otherwise, this will be very much like my regular lesbian stories—but that is worth mentioning here in the intro. As much as I would like to categorize this in LS, it's under Sci-Fi/Fantasy, also my first Sapphic Sci-Fi work. Of course, when you create Sci-Fi, you run the risk of setting off the "campy" meter, so I'll try to keep it less than embarrassingly campy.
I was thinking of calling this story "Beauty And The Beast," but besides the fact that that's just a little unoriginal, I didn't care for the way they portrayed the canine creatures in that (the Disney) film—or the similar way they did so in The Sword In The Stone, either, by the way. This story is lovingly dedicated to one Reader of mine in particular, and I am sure she knows who she is.
*****
Monday, January 5th, 2015, 9:27 a.m.
Dawn broke to the latest in a series of foggy, drizzly skies. Frosty dew collected in the grassy yards and meadows. The frigid Midwestern January temperature sat steady at 33°—though the windchill factor made it feel about 33° colder—just barely high enough to keep the rain from crystallizing. It was a cold, wet Monday, just the sort of day that would always get Karen Carpenter down. Fortunately, she did not live in this city.
Lots of citizens liked the natural showers—some even enjoyed the dreary downcast cloudiness—and those who didn't enjoyed their umbrellas, cars and homes. Most weekday nine-to-fivers were already snug in their cozy heated office buildings.
This morning saw traffic moving at a snail's pace, drivers proceeding with extra caution through precipitation and heavy fog. Some commuters would be a bit late into work today, including one lass whose destination sat on the border between the downtown metropolis and the quiet suburbs.
A healthily bundled Adia Zuri Bethwell had her windshield wipers and defroster hard at work, making way to her own "office." She sang along with the radio to distract herself from the chill. Arriving to work, she found a parking space far too easily and pulled in. She was a bit stymied why exactly the Juniper Zoo was open for recreation during these, some of the soggiest, messiest days she'd ever seen. But she didn't let such details bother her. This zoo could afford activity with less business, as its dues were funded by the local chapter of the wildlife society. And while on duty, but without a rush of guests to tend to, Adia could essentially be paid to sit in her booth and read, cyber-network, or simply look through the glass and daydream, letting the world go by.
There wasn't normally a wealth of downtime to enjoy these leisure projects. In and around ticketing guests, a number of in-booth tasks also required completing. And on weekends, the place could get downright hectic, living up to its name. But on days like this, with only sporadic business drummed up, Adia could almost get to feeling bored. But she never complained; she always felt thankful to just have a job, and such a fun place to get to come to work. Everybody liked the zoo. Everyone enjoyed meeting and documenting encounters with exotic animals they didn't see every day. And so as a result, Adia met collections of folks, cameras and iPads in tow, in what were overall happy, excited moods. The only individuals who seemed exasperated were parents of rambunctious small children, who wanted to see and have bought for them
everything
in sight. The zoo also boasted an additional bonus not all zoos offered: a series of stands where kids were given free balloon animals.
Adia Bethwell grew up enamored of nature and animals, especially those only indigenous to certain regions. Which made the zoo a perfect place for her to call home number two. She loved it here so much, she wished she didn't have to work so she could enjoy free time with patrons, studying their nonhuman friends. And she got to do so semi-regularly; staff members were rotated to given exhibits to host presentations for zoogoers. So there was an upside and downside to lesser turnouts on days like this. The upside was the paid free time to relax and take nice breathers while awaiting visitors. The downside was that with such a sparse gathering, it wasn't really considered worth it to give elaborate presentations.
Working at the zoo itself, and merely having a zoo to attend, had its own pro and con. While the animals were encaged, only able to pursue roaming, meandering impulses to a given point, the pro was the nurturing atmosphere. The zoo did its utmost to preserve and keep its inhabitants from going extinct. The first time Adia learned of extinction, it broke her heart. She hated when anything that meant something to her met an end. She didn't even like the idea of a store going out of business where she and her folks used to shop. The whole feeling was cold and abandoning. It made her sad and a bit scared.
She didn't think she needed to worry about that happening to the Juniper Zoo, however. She had a job she loved, and job security. These weren't articles of inanimate merchandise that could be relegated to secondhand shops once upgrades came along. These were God's creatures: beautiful living, breathing beings of nature. Adia hung with the dozens of mammals, birds, fish, pachyderms and insects by day, and returned to her little pals at home by night. She kept two pets, both girls, at the shared age of four years old: a white Persian cat named Bingo, and a Dalmatian named Checkers. It was questionless that Adia had nonhuman companionship made in the shade.
Another area of her life, however, was a very different story.
Every day, Adia greeted guests from all walks of life. Hardly anyone attended solo. Sometimes groups of friends came together, but most often couples and families. And while Adia was thrilled to see as many as wished to put in an appearance, the pattern of significant others lingered more and more on her mind. Adia was 31, single, gay, and growing lonesome. She very much wanted a nice woman in her life.
Adia enjoyed most of her free, unattached 20s, relishing the liberty to do, think, speak and be as she pleased. She knew from an early age she was attracted to girls, but was unsure where to meet them. She'd let a friend take her to a bar, but the atmosphere daunted her. It just wasn't her element. When a tall, tattooed,
smoking
hot girl approached, and asked in a deep, lush voice if she'd like to dance, her sultry splendor intimidated Adia so much she almost wet herself. She politely declined, stating the meek but honest truth that it was past her bedtime, and that her parents were waiting up at home. She tried not to feel like a loser, but she just wasn't ready for this.
At the time, she felt the admission of a curfew would persuade a predatory princess to cool her jets. Now, almost a decade later, she wondered if she wasn't ready to try again. Things were different: she'd fully grown and learned a few things about real life. There was no set restriction on her time outside work, and she was supporting her own living in her own apartment. Perhaps it was time she give the bar scene another go, from the viewpoint of a single chick in her 30s. Who knew what could happen?
She found herself giving it lots of thought each day, the more happy pairs she admitted. Even should she see a woman by herself, she doubted making a connection. The truth was, sometimes she didn't like being a lesbian very much, for zero reason other than the difficulty of meeting someone. She felt like she was in the biggest minority in the world. She considered looking for someone online, but the prospect of internet dating, while legit, struck her as impersonal and shady.
Oh well, she thought as the day wore on, perhaps she should stop thinking so much. Maybe if she left well enough alone, the perfect girl would land right in her lap.
And I don't think I'd mind
that
too much
, she giggled to herself. Still, her solitude didn't prevent her from fantasizing about things to do with any lady-friend who might come her way.
And so Adia went about her day like so many before. The Juniper Zoo normally stayed open until 6:00, though not many visitors came this late in the winter, when it got dark early. And Adia didn't stay the entire eight hours every day, but Saturday helped her along to full-time. What was yet nicer was the privilege of paid lunches on shorter days. Today she was to step off the clock at 3:30.
Six hours later, shift up, she slung her purse over her shoulder and trotted to the ladies'.
*****
Monday, January 5th, 2015, 3:32 p.m.
It had stopped raining about noonish, but the fog remained. Adia stepped back out from the restroom. She was still wearing her badge, which lived around her neck by day, and never allowed her to leave for work without coming along. If she ever forgot it, she would be sent back home. She slowed her steps to root through her purse for the keys.
"Excuse me, Miss?" she heard a voice behind her.
Adia looked up in the direction of the voice. When she saw the face to which it belonged, her brows arched, and her lips slipped ajar.
Addressing her was a
beautiful
woman. She was of indistinguishable age, yet looked close to Adia's own, and carried the signs of one who wore an elder woman's clothes. Her skin was youthfully smooth, but comelily withered in the cold. Her eyebrows were light, nearly invisible. Her eyes were very light blue, almost
