Out and Proud

by Lisa Young

Nervously she cleared her throat and read Lottie’s hastily scribbled ditty:

  The fat cat sat on the wall.

  He said “meow” and that was all.

  Silence.

  The eyes of the room fell to Pru who looked quizzically at Lottie, squirming uncomfortably in her chair and refusing to make any eye contact.

  “I see. Clearly some people have chosen not to respect the group, or take this seriously, which is a great shame as it shows a lack of consideration for our fellow group members, who have put in considerably more effort.”

  She paused, and rubbing her hands together violently she continued. “Well, clearly, I don’t want to make a big issue out of this, although I would say at this point that the use of inappropriate humour tells us a lot about a person’s state of mind and stability, or lack of it.” She mumbled the final part.

  Lottie continued to squirm, painfully aware that what she had considered to be a witty attempt at humour and lightheartedness was not something that Pru was going to run with.

  “Perhaps, dear, you’d care to share your friend’s contribution. Hopefully it’s something written with a little more care.”

  Glad of the change of direction, Lottie glanced down at Mel’s paper. She concentrated on assuming an appropriately serious tone of voice, and clearing her throat, read words that had a strange rhythm and sounded vaguely familiar. Confused by the lack of grammar, Lottie stole a glance at Mel, who grinned encouragingly at her. She focused her efforts back to the poem but as she continued to read, Lottie swallowed hard as the stark realisation hit her, Oh mother of fuck, please! She can’t possibly have stolen the words from the infamous Katy Perry song, “I Kissed a Girl”.

  She glanced up briefly, and noted that the two younger babydykes had stopped their mating ritual and were rocking in unison, mouthing the words to the song. Shaking her head to clear it, she looked back at the page, but was unable to continue. Heat raged up her neck and through her cheeks as she coughed nervously. Her mouth had become bone-dry and there was a ringing noise in her ears. After the response that her tongue-incheek ditty had provoked, her stomach somersaulted in panic at the inevitable wrath that this offering would provoke from Pru.

  The silence following her reading was deafening. With some reluctance, she cautiously looked up.

  To her utter amazement, Pru was standing in the middle of the room in some sort of rapture. Transfixed, she stared at Mel, who continued to grin inanely, clearly feeling she was fulfilling her fake dyke role. Pru’s disproportionately large and manly hands were clasped dramatically to her ample bra-less bosom, and a tear slipped across her cheekbone towards her wobbling jowl. With Pru’s apparent blessing, the group erupted into rapturous applause. Mel’s beam reached the corners of her face and some of the others started to hum the tune, clearly recognising the reference that had, thankfully, escaped Pru.

  Pru strode towards Mel, arms outstretched, and as Mel rose to the embrace, the room clapped once again.

  “My dear! Simply splendid! So heartfelt, it truly captures the difficulties of coming out in later life, doesn’t it? Well it must have taken you ages to phrase it in such superb and delicate prose, my heart sang with joy! Simply beautiful and well done!”

  Mel sank back onto her chair. She turned to smile smugly at Lottie, who was speechless.

  “You see, group, our expression through creative means has such a momentous impact on us all. I think we have time for one more and I’d like to share my own contribution if I may.” Without waiting for a response from the group, Pru read aloud in a deep and gritty voice.

  The garden bench...

  The garden bench looks forlorn and alone

  Uncared for, callously discarded

  Like me

  Like me

  Summer beckoned but the bench remains cold

  Not made for one, but two

  Alone

  Alone

  Surrounded by lush green shrubbery

  Framing its misery

  Lost

  Lost

  You left me without a care

  Moving onto a new life

  Disregard for my misery

  Abandoned

  Abandoned

  Happiness has left me

  I am alone now

  Only my bench for company

  A bench made for two

  Misery

  Misery

  She bowed her head, and then looked up to be met with silence.

  Eager to redeem herself, Lottie clapped enthusiastically, hoping the others would join her. None did. Pru, composed herself before shooting Lottie a steely glare.

  Taking a deep breath, she clapped her hands briskly and announced a fifteen-minute coffee break.

  “Prompt return please, my dears!”

  Taking the opportunity to escape Pru’s steely gaze, Lottie jumped from her chair, ignoring Mel, who she felt had acquired a Teflon-coated pair of dungarees, making her immune from the wrath of Pru. She made up her mind to mingle with the rest of the group and intended to ask the two baby-dykes whether Pru would be likely to revisit Mel’s poem, and realise the cultural reference, but she shelved that idea as she noted they were not in the room.

  Instead, she approached the woman who had been sitting opposite her. Still feeling that she was vaguely familiar, she went up to her with the intention of striking up a conversation. She doubted that Pru’s Group was something that people were easily able to leave, and she intended to find out whether anyone else in the group found the experience rather disconcerting. However, her good intentions were short-lived, as she heard a high-pitched shriek, followed by a loud thud as plastic chairs scraped and scattered along the parquet flooring.

  Pru was in an ungainly heap, and with her dignity exposed, she clutched her chest dramatically and screamed. “Mim, my EpiPen! Now! Nuts, oh, dear spirits above! Nuts!”

  Miriam, abandoning her collections of tins, was galvanised into action by the cries of her mistress, and surged forward with purpose. Lottie noted with horror the glint of a metal needle which Miriam held, warrior like, above her head. With her wild gray hair streaming behind her, she became a blur as she streaked past the frozen, assembled group and raced towards the motionless form of Pru, who had closed her eyes and was looking somewhat peculiar. The needle plunged through the thick material of the smock directly into the thigh of Pru, who gasped before collapsing once again, crushing the unwitting volunteer who had cushioned her fall. On the floor, Lottie noticed a halfconsumed almond slice staring accusingly at her.

  “Gluten free almond slice” she repeated silently to herself, dread dawning on her with a horrible wave. “Oh shit! Nuts!”

  AS PRU WAS rolled, with some effort, onto a waiting stretcher, Lottie noted the rolled eyes and glances exchanged by the ambulance personnel who clearly wished they’d brought their special heavy person chair. Grimacing at the curious passersby, they moved towards the waiting ambulance.

  Lottie dashed towards Pru, determined to rectify her bad impression.

  She clasped Pru’s hand. “I know it’s probably not the time, Pru, but I did have an idea about a name for the group.”

  Receiving no response, she moved forward boldly. “How about the Bisexual and Lesbian Society?”

  Pru raised her head from the stretcher and cast a look of sheer disgust at Lottie. “BALS?” she spluttered, before she was hoisted, with considerable effort on the part of the heroic medical staff, into the waiting ambulance.

  Lottie noticed the baby-dykes emerge from the toilets, hand in hand and waving enthusiastically at the passing ambulance, before leaving for a destination unknown. There would almost certainly be a swift moving-in, followed by a trip to Dykea.

  As Lottie and Mel hurried to the car park, eager to escape the drama, the familiar stranger tugged on Lottie’s sleeve. Turning around, she gasped in dismay as she finally remembered why she looked so familiar, it was Ms. Bentley, the teaching assistant from
Archie’s class at school.

  “Hey,” Ms. Bentley greeted her. “Small world.”

  Lottie nodded, looking at Mel who shrugged in return. “Ms. Bentley, how nice to see you.”

  Ms. Bentley leaned uncomfortably close to Lottie, who was trapped between her heaving bosom and the car door. “Call me Janet.”

  Lottie felt Ms. Bentley’s breath on her cheek, and turning her head to the side, she muttered quickly. “Sorry must go. Archie’s waiting.”

  Grasping the car door handle, she hastily climbed in and started the car for the journey home. The radio leapt to life and the words of “I Kissed a Girl” bounced loudly around the small space. Lottie and Mel looked at one another, grinning at the irony of the situation, before they burst into raucous laughter.

  Lesbianage

  ODIE LOOKED UP from his basket with interest as Lottie entered Alice’s chic, beachfront apartment. Lottie joked with Alice that she loved to visit her holiday home by the sea, even though she lived by the very same sea. What the flat did provide though, was an escape for Lottie from the responsibilities of family life and it was somewhere she would always treasure, as the place where they had started their relationship. Despite their relative newness to one another, both Lottie and Alice had agreed that this was the beginning of something serious. In the same spirit, they had happily exchanged keys to one another’s homes, although Lottie secretly liked coming to Alice’s plush pad the best.

  Lottie slipped off her shoes and marvelled at the soft carpeting, minus any food scraps or cat hair. She looked forward to a weekend of indulgence, determined that Alice’s homecoming would be special.

  During the few days that Alice had been away visiting some friends, Lottie had plenty of opportunity to reflect on their emerging relationship. She was especially pleased that she felt she could totally be herself, well, with the exception of an exaggerated history of her use of sex toys, of course. In the grand scheme of things, Alice didn’t seem to be concerned with Lottie’s experience or lack of it. The earlier small white lie about sexual experience had emerged from Lottie’s subconscious as she struggled to develop her new identity as an out and proud gay woman. In other relationships, Lottie had felt some pressure to present herself as more immersed in lesbian life than she had actually been. With Alice, things were different. With Alice, she felt fully accepted for the person she was and the person she was becoming. In return, she offered Alice love, as this was pretty much all she felt she had to give.

  Lottie perceived that Alice was more of a loner. She was happy in the company of Odie, and seemed to love the sense of peaceful isolation she had managed to create in her home. Yet Lottie liked to make a fuss over Alice wherever possible and within the limited constraints of her single-parent budget. Alice was far from materialistic, but Lottie was able to demonstrate her affection for Alice through small but meaningful gestures.

  Only a few weeks ago she had driven the short distance to Portsoy, on a mission to collect the most delicious Cullen skink soup in the whole of the north of Scotland. Alice had split it into three portions, intent on savouring it during the course of a week rather than devouring it in one sitting. She had expressed much warm appreciation of Lottie’s thoughtfulness.

  Lottie had a kind and generous nature, and gestures of this sort were second nature to her, hence her wide circle of loyal and well-established friendships.

  As Lottie wandered from room to room, she touched the pieces that Alice had carefully selected, and which added to the classy ambience of her home. Alice had an eagle eye for a bargain as well as an avid interest in local artists who plied their trade at crafts fairs, creating home furnishings from natural products such as driftwood and wool. Lottie’s taste was less eclectic and she strictly adhered to shabby chic born of Marks and Spencer’s online catalogue.

  One of the things that Lottie admired about Alice was her ability to put a room together with seemingly little effort. By contrast, Lottie’s home very much depicted the lives of the family members within. Archie and his collections had spilled from his bedroom to the rest of the house. These consisted mainly of largely, fiddly, Lego constructions which he studiously arranged on any available surface. Robbie contributed an assortment of used dishes, which he assumed would somehow find their way to the kitchen to be cleaned by the washing-up fairy. Lottie herself had a large collection of novels and hobby equipment, most of it unused. In a quest to develop herself, she would start a new hobby on a bi-weekly basis, only for it to be usurped by a new and burgeoning desire to undertake a more creative craft a month later.

  Passing through into the kitchen, Lottie struggled to manage her packages. A small, perfectly bundled posy of white lilies, a bottle of chilled prosecco, along with the ingredients for a delicious home-cooked meal. She hoped Alice wouldn’t return having eaten, or worse still, too tired to explore another lesson with the strap-on. A sigh escaped her as she acknowledged that she still felt embarrassed about the strap-on debacle, and she’d been left feeling somewhat shy about the use of sex toys in general. In fact, she would go as far as to say she was suffering from a version of lesbian erectile dysfunction. Even her own faithful friend the Rampant Rabbit had stared at her accusingly within recent weeks, and as a consequence had been relegated to the bottom dresser drawer.

  “I love you, Alice,” she muttered to no one in particular. Alice had remained determinedly patient about the introduction of moulded-plastic assisted sex, and Lottie recalled the advice she’d given about the slow and steady thrust.

  “Less is more,” Alice had counselled her. “You’re not a bloke, Lottie, so you don’t need to fuck me like one!”

  Smiling, Lottie imagined herself, sweat dripping from her forehead as she pumped away. She recalled the magnificent sight of Alice who had later taken control. Alice, kneeling confidently above her as she used one hand to guide the strap on gently into Lottie. Aside from her ability to navigate the plastic implement with ease, she had maintained delicious eye contact with Lottie throughout. With seeming ease, she worked the strap-on until Lottie’s pleasure was apparent. Whether it was the strap-on, or, more likely, the complete ease in which Alice had made love to her, she felt strangely connected to her lover in a way that had helped her to understand what the strap-on brought to the bedroom.

  Hastened by the memory, she finished her cooking and patted Odie on the head as he stared intensely at the closing fridge door, silently willing her to produce a tasty tidbit. Dissatisfied, he gave a rumble of displeasure and returned to his basket to await the return of his favoured mistress.

  The pasta bake was in the oven. Set the bloody timer, Lottie, she silently chastised herself as she headed upstairs for a quick shower and change and a liberal squirt of Alice’s cologne. She didn’t know why she ever thought it was too butch to wear aftershave instead of perfume.

  Better give it a quick wash, she thought referring to the formidable strap-on. Leaning across the bed she felt around to locate the naughty drawer, and fumbled around until she was able to pull out the strap-on. What on earth was all this stuff? She struggled to shut the drawer and unknown gadgets spilled out onto the carpet.

  Rummaging to try to return the alien items to their rightful hiding place, she came across a soft plastic bulb. Curious as to what it was, she was driven to investigate further. She pulled the unfamiliar object out of the drawer and onto the bed. Chuckling with delight, she realised she’d discovered a new toy of pleasure!

  Alice, your collection of sex toys is seriously impressive. I have absolutely no bloody idea what this is. As she turned it again and again in her hand, she observed that running from the soft plastic bulb, akin to an old-fashioned blood pressure pump, ran a soft purple piece of what looked like hosing. Attached to the end of the hosing was a bullet-shaped device, and when she located and pressed the start button it vibrated invitingly in her hand. Her eyes followed the hose down and she noted there was an oval-shaped end in which there was a soft sponge like surface th
at gently caressed the end of her exploring finger.

  Lottie wriggled as an involuntary shiver ran through her. Smiling to herself, she made a spur-of-the moment decision. A quick try of this before her shower and at least if it appeared later on, she might be able to appear a bit savvier about how it bloody worked. Silently, she chastised herself for being so silly. She knew it was only in her head, the humiliation she was subjecting herself to about the strap incident. Yet despite Alice’s assurances, she was still stubbornly determined to show sexual savvy.

  Before she could talk herself out of it, she whipped down her pants and attached herself to the bullet-shaped end which was dully vibrating. Sinking down into Alice’s duvet she vigorously pumped on the soft purple bulb, which immediately responded with appropriate pressure to her clitoris. Squirming with pleasure, Lottie experimented with different speeds and activated the vibrating spongy pad. Yay for Alice’s drawer of pleasure! She was momentarily lost in the immediate pleasure it gave her.

  A soft breath against her arm alerted her to the fact that she was not alone. Opening one eye, she noted that Odie had sidled up to the bed and was observing her with the look of disdain he clearly reserved for visitors who didn’t have the courtesy to provide him with tidbits from the fridge.

  Feeling somewhat unnerved by his judgemental gaze, she mumbled towards him. “Bloody hell, dog!” she said, while swatting at him with her free hand.

  Despite her persistence, Odie remained resolutely unmoved. Suddenly, he lunged in a concerted attempt to get onto the bed. His long sausage-shaped body gave him extra height as he attempted to negotiate a full-on dive, assisted by the low bed frame. He seemed extremely confident that, with enough lunging, he could propel himself onto the coveted duvet. Several doglunges later and put off by his inappropriate interest in her bedroom activities, Lottie struggled to a sitting position, intending to put the toy away.

  As she used one hand to swat the dog, the other became accidentally entangled in the purple hosing. The more she struggled the more her free hand became entangled in the hosing, which was cutting into her wrist.