by A. L. Brooks
“God, yes!” cried Vivian, and Kath didn’t hesitate, starting slow circles over Vivian’s engorged clit. She increased the pressure and speed with the increase in volume of Vivian’s cries, all the while watching the dildo move in and out. As she brought Vivian to the brink, as she controlled the pace of it, Kath set aside one small part of her brain to register just how important this night had been for her. Vivian came, thrusting back against Kath, fingers clenching into fists against the wall, and Kath sucked in a deep breath.
A cry formed somewhere deep inside that threatened to become a sob in the next moment. The joy, the pure ecstasy running through her body was almost a physical thing in itself. In the instant after that realisation, her own orgasm crashed through her, weakening her knees. Vivian groaned in tandem with her. Kath stilled her thrusts, leaving the dildo buried deep inside Vivian, and she wrapped her body over Vivian’s to pull her close. Vivian tipped her head back and let Kath nuzzle her neck.
“Thank you,” Kath whispered. Her emotions were of no relevance to Vivian, but the heartfelt words escaped her without warning.
Vivian turned her head slightly and stared at Kath for a few moments, her eyes not revealing any of her thoughts. Then she smiled. “Trust me, the pleasure was all mine.” She winked, and Kath grinned.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” replied Kath, also winking. She pulled out slowly, bringing one last hiss of pleasure from Vivian as the dildo left her body. As she removed the harness, Vivian rearranged her clothing. Then Kath passed over the kit to Vivian, who stooped to pick up the bag. With a final smile, Vivian walked away without so much as a backwards glance, but Kath didn’t mind. She felt drained and elated all at the same time. She zipped up her trousers and stumbled over to the central bar. Her legs refused to cooperate fully with her brain’s commands, much to her own amusement. She slouched on one of the stools, gaze unfocused, and closed her eyes as she replayed the last twenty minutes or so in her mind. Somehow, even though Kath hadn’t started as the dominant one, this encounter had been even more fulfilling than the one with the blonde earlier. She’d had to work at this one, prove herself just a little bit, and the satisfaction was all the greater because of it.
Without a doubt, her weekends for the foreseeable future had a new, exciting look to them.
When she felt her legs could actually support her, she stood and stretched. She left the Blue Room, walked back into Green, and stopped for a moment to soak up a bit more of the atmosphere. She didn’t focus on anything in particular beyond just being there.
Then she took a deep breath and made to leave and head home, only to have a cute little thing who’d just walked in catch her eye. The short, tartan skirt showed off a fine set of legs, and the sheer top that covered her upper body left little to the imagination. The woman’s eyes flashed a very definite “go.” She couldn’t, could she? Not three in one night? And then her clit butted into her thoughts. Sure we can, it purred. What are you waiting for?
Chuckling to herself, Kath took a step forward.
* * *
Mandy watched as the butch she’d lusted after earlier departed Green and headed for the locker room. She emerged wrapped in her long leather coat again, and Mandy couldn’t help but ogle as the woman walked towards her. She was taller than Mandy, probably about five nine, and carried her big build with a swagger that made Mandy grin. As she passed, she met Mandy’s gaze and smiled. Mandy returned the smile with a blush and pulled back into her office to hide it, embarrassed beyond measure at showing herself up in front of a customer. The woman left, and Mandy let out a breath. She could almost hear Rebecca’s voice next to her. Oh, so that’s really your type, is it? Big and butch?
There would be humour in the tone, a hint of teasing, but it would be done with love. Mandy’s smile faded as the pain hit her, stuttering her heart. Just over a year since Rebecca had gone. A year of battling her emotions while pushing on with opening this club. The joy of that tempered by the emptiness left without Rebecca to share it.
“You okay, Mandy?” Dee’s voice was laced with concern. She had worked for Mandy as the assistant manager since the day they opened, and they’d become quite good friends.
Mandy blinked back tears and inhaled deeply.
“Fine,” she replied, her voice quavering more than she liked. “I’m fine.”
CHAPTER 2
Melbourne, 1997
The music was thumping through the floor of Toolbox, the small, dark club Mandy had discovered during her first week in Melbourne. Saturday night was in full swing with wall-to-wall dykes bumping and grinding to the beat, and the air was hot and sweaty. Just the way Mandy liked it. She urged Suzy to follow her to the back of the club, but Suzy was dragging her heels a bit, which Mandy didn’t like.
She’d thought she’d read Suzy’s responses to her overtures on the dance floor correctly, but now she wasn’t so sure. She pulled her into the toilet cubicle anyway and locked the door shut behind them. She gently pressed Suzy against the door, and leaned into her firm body. If Suzy was having a few doubts, Mandy was happy to assuage them. She dipped her head and trailed open-mouthed kisses down the length of Suzy’s neck. Suzy trembled beneath her, and Mandy smiled into the soft skin beneath her lips. Moving upwards, she found her earlobe and nibbled lightly before biting down a little harder. The small groan that Suzy emitted sent a nice little pulse of desire to Mandy’s clit.
“Okay, baby?” Mandy whispered against Suzy’s ear and was rewarded with another groan. Suzy latched onto Mandy’s hips and pulled her closer. Oh yes, job done. Mandy pulled Suzy’s tee shirt from out of her cargo pants and ran her hands straight up her body and over her breasts. It had been obvious on the dance floor that Suzy wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts were small, not even a handful, really, but Mandy didn’t care because Suzy’s nipples responded just the way she liked, hardening rapidly and pushing into her palms. Every touch she bestowed on them had Suzy grinding just that little bit harder against Mandy’s thigh.
The night had started out so slowly. Her friend Stacey hadn’t shown up, which had put a damper on the start of the evening. Mandy was perfectly happy to spend a night alone in a club, and had frequently done so, but she’d been looking forward to hooking up with Stacey. They hadn’t seen each other in a couple of weeks and had a lot of catching up to do. No doubt a woman was the reason for Stacey’s absence; it usually was.
So, Stacey had ditched her tonight, and Mandy had two choices—go home or make the most of it. She chose the latter, and Suzy’s soft breasts in her hands vindicated that choice. She needed this—it had been a long week at work. She’d been in Melbourne for six months now and had landed a job in a friend’s club. Despite her protestations that she knew nothing about running a bar, he’d waved her off.
“Look, love, I’ll give you a month to try it—if you don’t like it, no hard feelings, and if you’re shit, you’re out, simple as that.”
She’d started the following week and never looked back. She was a natural—having spent so many nights in clubs herself, she’d become adept at reading the crowd, picking up on the atmosphere, and understanding what the punters wanted. Mandy had found her new niche and was working flat out to build her reputation within it.
For now, as Suzy responded eagerly to the touch of her hands, all thoughts of her long, tiring week were fading into the recesses of her brain. Time to up the ante. Mandy reached down to the zip of Suzy’s pants and started slowly undoing it. Suzy’s hand shot down and stopped her in her tracks.
“No, wait,” panted Suzy against Mandy’s mouth.
“Something wrong?” asked Mandy in her most seductive tone.
There was a slight hesitation, and then Suzy pulled her mouth away and looked at Mandy.
“I’m just not… That’s not what I do, not with someone I’ve only just met.” Suzy’s soft Aussie twang trembled with a clear mix of desire and nerves. “I don’t mind a bit of a pash and a grope, but…well, I’d rather get to know you a bit more
before…you know.”
Oh shit. There was a determination behind Suzy’s words that told Mandy all she needed to know. She had definitely read this one wrong.
“Oh, right.” There really wasn’t a lot else she could say to that. Suzy’s entire demeanour made it clear there was no point in going down the teasing, coaxing route, as she’d sometimes done in the past. And Mandy wasn’t the sort of woman who needed—or wanted—to force an issue.
She stepped back and pulled her tee shirt down. Her skin was already cooling where Suzy’s hands had been only moments before.
“Well, I guess I’ll say goodnight, then,” she said as she reached for the lock.
“Hey, wait.” Suzy’s voice registered surprise. “Don’t you want to swap numbers, maybe arrange a time to see each other?”
Mandy breathed out an elongated sigh.
She turned back to meet Suzy’s gaze. “Sorry, love,” she said quietly. “Not my style. Have a nice night.”
She unlocked the cubicle and left before Suzy could get a word out.
On her way back through the club, she immersed herself in the music once more. She was filled with a strange mix of denied arousal and exhaustion and didn’t have the energy to make another conquest. She danced her way towards the front of the room, angling herself away from the angry looks Suzy and her group of friends were shooting her way. Lovely. Maybe it was time to call it a night—she really didn’t need the hassle. Get over it, girls, she mentally threw their way. Nobody died.
She made her way to the exit. The night was balmy—February in Melbourne carried the warmth of late summer long into the evening, and she loved it. She strolled away from the railway arches that housed the club and wandered up Flinders Street towards the station. She had just enough time to get the tram home rather than a cab.
She shared the tram ride with a group of very drunk, very young girls who gave the conductor quite a hard time all the way back to St. Kilda. He took it well and caught Mandy’s eye as she hopped off at the Esplanade, raising his eyebrows in a resigned manner that suggested this was nothing short of a usual Saturday night for him. She pitied him.
She walked the short couple of blocks to her apartment and rode the lift up to the fifteenth floor. Once inside she opened up the balcony doors and stepped out to gaze at the surf that crashed gently on the beach across the Esplanade. She couldn’t really see the waves in the dark, but she could hear them, even above the traffic that rose up to her in fits and starts along the road below. That was enough. She stepped back into the apartment and pulled an ice-cold Carlton from the fridge. As she took a couple of quick gulps, she noticed the light flashing on her answer machine. Her mum’s broken, aching voice came over the machine to deliver a message that crashed into her brain.
“Mandy, sweetheart, it’s your mum. I think you’d better come home, darling, if you can.” A pause, followed by a sob. “It…it’s your dad. H-he hasn’t got long. Please, come home?”
CHAPTER 3
Manchester, present day
The door was nondescript, inconspicuous. Black, which made Max smile weakly. What other colour would it be? She stood across the street, hidden in the shadow of the railway bridge above, and wondered, again, if she could do this. In three attempts, this was the furthest she had got. The two previous journeys had ended at Stoke, as the fear of taking such a step far outweighed the hunger, the need, inside her. But now, two weeks later, she’d stayed on the train to its final destination, Manchester, and having gone that far, it seemed her legs had decided she might as well reach her final destination without any more delay.
She’d arrived at the hotel, in the city centre near Piccadilly Gardens, at about five o’clock that afternoon. The room was small but nicely furnished, and the bathroom was gorgeous. She’d eaten early from room service and had one glass of wine to settle her rampaging nerves. Then she’d had a long soak in the bath and washed her hair, taking her time, again hoping the warm water would calm her. She wanted to do this. She did. At the same time, she was terrified about what it meant for her life and her relationship. She refused to listen to the answer.
At nine thirty, she’d summoned a cab. The ten minutes in the car sent her stomach churning and her mind whirling. Twice she’d nearly asked the driver to take her back to the hotel, and twice she’d resisted.
So here she stood, body trembling from nerves or from the cool September evening air; she couldn’t tell which. She hated the lies she’d told these last two months about imaginary meetings in Manchester that didn’t finish until after seven. Somewhat to her dismay, the lies had come easily.
She’d blamed her job—working in PR for a drug company meant she constantly had to…massage…the truth. Telling little white lies was second nature to her. But Sue didn’t need to know the truth. Sue, whom she loved dearly and had loved for nearly eight years. Sue, who was twelve years older than her, who was deep in the throes of menopause, and who had lost all interest in sex, even in intimacy. Sue, who hadn’t kissed her properly in a year.
They’d talked about it, and there had been genuine regret in Sue’s voice. Max had accepted it and told her it was okay, told her it didn’t matter. Their love was too strong to let this one small thing get in the way. Their love was built on a more intellectual basis, always had been. That had been fine when they first got together; in fact, it had been exactly what Max had needed. Sue was a wonderfully undemanding escape from the unhealthy craziness that Max had dealt with in her previous relationship.
Only now, however, Max needed something else. At first, she’d just blamed it on Sue’s menopause because that seemed the easiest excuse. But the more she struggled with what she was feeling, the more she analysed it. The more she delved inside herself, the more she realised it was not about Sue at all. Something had cut loose inside Max over the last two or three years.
She didn’t know how it had started, particularly, although her brief…interaction…with Lucy had definitely been part of the trigger. Lucy had worked as a temp in Max’s office a few years ago. And she had sent Max’s head—and other parts of her anatomy—spinning. Lucy was hot. Absolutely smoking hot. It had shocked Max—she’d never even so much as looked at another woman since meeting Sue. Yet something about Lucy sent Max’s pulse racing, and gradually some very inappropriate thoughts crept into her head.
Nothing had ever happened between them, although Lucy made it clear she was amenable one night during after-work drinks. Pressing herself up against Max in a quiet corner of the bar, she’d dared Max to kiss her. Max, of course, had run. At the time, she took it as clear proof that she was totally committed to Sue despite the raw, passionate feelings Lucy stirred in her. But over time, those feelings hadn’t gone away. If anything, they’d increased.
And that had coincided with Sue’s diminishing lack of interest in all things sexual, leaving Max frustrated and angry at herself for being so. Surely what she and Sue had should be enough? Shouldn’t it? Why did something as silly as the need for sex have to get in the way? She continued to ignore the little voice deep inside her that said it wasn’t just the sex…
So she masturbated—frequently—to take care of that silly urge, but it was never enough, never fully satisfying. Max craved the sensations of another woman’s hands and tongue and skin. Sometimes she absolutely ached from it, and it drove her to tears. After years of careful, gentle passivity from Sue, she wanted passion—something harder, something…more. Something that Sue couldn’t give her.
Underneath all her introspection about the physical, Max had gradually let that little voice inside her get louder. The differences between her and Sue were getting wider and scarier and more difficult to manage. And the differences weren’t just about the physical. Their earlier connection, the reason they had fit so well in the beginning, was lost to her. She looked at Sue sometimes and wondered, if I met you now, would I even give you a second glance? Thoughts like this terrified her.
They’d bought a flat together, talked about
getting married. How could it all unravel like this? Blaming it on a lack of sex was a huge cop-out, but it was all Max could handle right now. She wasn’t ready to face what she knew, deep down inside, was really wrong. So she had focused on the lack of sex and wondered if there was something she could do about that. Maybe, if she could get this out of her system, she and Sue would be okay.
She’d discovered the club purely by chance. After a late night at work, heading home on the Tube through the West End, she’d picked up a magazine left on a seat. The front featured two women in a semi-naked embrace. It was a gay magazine, one she’d never even heard of, such was her distance from the scene since finding committed bliss with Sue. She flicked through it as her train trundled on and came across an article. She’d read every word and found herself surprisingly turned on by the descriptions of the clubs. Clubs that offered a new variation on the darkroom scene—for women, by women.
Over the next few days, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the article. One club in particular, located in Manchester, was seared into her brain. She’d deliberately not registered the names of the two clubs in London—she’d never take the risk of running into someone she or Sue knew. The one in Manchester sounded like it was a cut above what she expected—classier, if that were possible. It even had a code of conduct to ensure that everyone had a fun yet safe time. After tormented thoughts that kept her awake over many nights, she finally took a minute to look it up on Google Maps. It was centrally located, easy to get to from a train into Piccadilly station, if one was travelling up from London.
Another few weeks of thinking about it. Another few weeks of doubts and questions with very few answers. Another few weeks of getting herself off in the shower in the morning. Another few weeks of justifying the plan to go—she wouldn’t really be cheating on Sue if it was anonymous… If it was just a quick fuck… If it was just to scratch an itch…