The swell of the girl's breasts, a little flattened by the clinging swimsuit, but most tempting all the same, filled her thoughts. How her torso tapered to a trim waist, as she had sat on the side of the pool, like some wood-nymph; the plants behind her, gazing into the water. The hips were narrow and she suspected the legs were long. Oh, not too long. Minerva. Here she was taking off again â they hadn't even met and already she was worrying about her height.
“Hell's teeth, Sid, sometimes you're unreal. You crazy in the head, or what?”
she remonstrated with herself. Perhaps she was going through another of her randy phases, eyeing up prospective partners. Really, she shouldn't do this, being the last person to look upon women solely in the light of a sexual encounter â liking them too much for that. But sometimes her mind took off into the realms of fantasy, even when she knew nothing. Perhaps that was the very reason why? She must have been living too long without a steady.
She finished her laps, showered again and changed into club clothes; a white, close fitting T-shirt under a black leather vest and for tonight, because of helping out with the show, her black leather pants with bikies' boots. She was not a biker, just liked the look. Her belt, metal linked rather than studded; those in the know would understand where she was coming from. Keys were clipped to the loop on the right side of the buckle.
After the shower, her short blonde hair was still slicked back, but as it dried it would begin to form a halo of golden waves about her head. The style was short and snappy, sometimes given to unruliness. A quick, final comb and face check.
Sidonie's face, for all her youth, had an arresting strength of character. Her life had not been easy and she had coped with responsibilities beyond her years. Her face, an almost perfect oval except for the squareness of a determined chin, was graced with two beautifully arched eyebrows; their blondness sometimes made them disappear, unless caught by a shaft of illuminating sunlight. Likewise the eyelashes, which thickly fringed her deep, sea-blue eyes. The gaze from these piercing eyes could be startling to those unfamiliar with their intensity. She had a face full of vitality, but sometimes it showed an unexpected aggression. Unaware of this herself, it being a product of a past insecurity, it could slip through when she was stressed. Although not meant, people could still get the wrong impression.
Sidonie was someone who took time to know; not a girl easily read like a weekend novel. Her smile however, would dazzle. Coupled with the brilliance of her eyes, which could turn to sea- green when she was truly animated, it imparted life and a loveable quality. Very hard to forget. But first that smile had to be earned. Then it was quick and generous, spontaneously given.
She drove a midnight blue Toyota Tercel. A little sporty number was her preference, but on her wages â she was thankful for what she'd got. The traffic was frustrating, but she was only a tad late and Dale and Shaneen were not even there. Relieved, she ordered a light VO, and chatted with Larni behind the bar, keeping her company while she got herself set up.
It was early yet for the regulars, the club still quiet; music laid back. Some soulful Celine Dione kept the mood mellow. The lighting was fairly bright, making it easy to distinguish stand up tables from more secluded groupings ranged round the walls. Later it would be dimmed to a mysterious level. Although not large, the club had everything the women needed. Dance floor at the far end, deep inside. Prying eyes would have a hard time to distinguish who was dancing with whom, while the bouncers had a chance to check out the newcomers. Bar in the middle, strategically placed on the way to the dancing area, ensuring a steady flow of traffic in both directions, and helping to maintain friendly exchanges between patrons. Off to one side were the washrooms and pool table.
Jessica joined Larni at the, bar giving Sidonie a cheery greeting. She was organizing the coffee, which she kept available at all times. Jessica Salva was the owner. Sole owner. She was old enough to have been able to avoid any Mafia involvement and her patrons loved her. Opening and closing numerous bars in various cities over the years, she had dabbled in mixed guys and gals venues. In the end, her conclusion was that single gender was the better way to go. Guys on the scene, despite their friendliness, tended to take over. Sheer exuberance and animal energy, both on and off the dance floor, could be overpowering. Lesbians enjoyed high spirits and boisterous occasions too, but in their wildness they didn't take up so much space or inflict such hard, albeit accidental blows, as the men. When they stomped on feet, it was unlikely to end in crushed toes â badly bruised yes, but still intact. So ⦠Lesbians only it was. It had meant a drop in revenue. Women didn't turn up as regularly as men; didn't drink as heavily either. But many was the sore head she'd put into a cab, checking for the address on her driver's license.
Jessica kept a clean bar. The carpet was always vacuumed before opening; patches of burn or spills, were regularly replaced. The toilets were immaculate; no horrible surprises. Another secret to her long-lived success, when other clubs had failed, was her depth of bar staff. She had experienced women working weekends, on rotation. The regulars got to know and trust them with their hard luck stories. Built on these foundations, she could keep her patrons coming back and the stability thus provided, enabled her to pay respectable fees to good acts working the night club circuit. Every now and then, even the inspired amateur. Tonight she'd booked two in this latter category â friends of Sidonie's, who sang their own material in intriguing harmonies with delightful lovers' banter between numbers.
Sidonie had only known Dale and Shaneen as a couple. Their association went back about a year, but they had been together already for three. She'd warmed to them and they'd recognized in her someone going through a difficult time. Emotionally, she had been all over the place, but grew up fast. They had helped sustain her through periods of self-doubt. These two women were very important to her. Through them she had been able to take the truths of lesbianism, its realities and hard knocks, on the chin; reeled and recovered. Now she could face the world, knowing herself for what she was, no longer feeling desolate, as someone strange. There were others like her and she felt a strength in their solidarity.
Sometimes she thought life would be less tough if she âgave' a little; tried to conform to the mold. How much easier life was for the femmes. They could pass, or stand up and be counted with their sisters, if so moved. But she couldn't, wouldn't, be like that. In fact, now that she had come through her inferior period, there was no compromise. She was what she was ⦠all the world could see if it cared to take notice. Now that she wasn't self-conscious of her butchness; was taking pride in her physique and abilities; it was surprising how many people took her at face value, or if it registered, it didn't matter. The people who eschewed labels: some of her co-workers at the track: where she took her dry cleaning: at the drug store: the people who knew her. They liked her for the person she was: her sense of humor, her willingness to help. They broke into smiles when she came into view.
Sidonie was careful, late at night. Young punks, with time on their hands and little in their heads, could feel inclined to pick on her; usually no more than obscene remarks. They would feel the safety of numbers and behaved as they never would alone. For all that she was not tall or burly, there was no mistaking the compact build of an athlete, in peak of condition ⦠who could deliver as good as she got, one to one. She had done that on occasion. Her spirit was strong and brave ⦠but against a pack?
This was the trouble these days, she thought. So many homeless youths, or futureless ones; lacking self-esteem or direction to their lives. Sometimes she felt sorry for them. She had so much going for her. Had had the good fortune to come across key people to help remedy disappointments, ease the hurts and provide guidance. Generous-hearted women had taken her up. But that was only sometimes. Most of the time she reckoned they got what they deserved.
Being the eldest of three in a poor family, she knew the meaning of hard work and application. She wouldn't be where she was today if she hadn't decided first and foremost to learn to help herself; set realistic goals, then single mindedly go after them. Strongly principled, she would never achieve her objective at someone else's expense. There was no pleasure in that, or true satisfaction; no sense of achievement and above all, she liked to achieve. She wanted her life to be a worthwhile one. Not necessarily wealthy, but certainly of value.
She had just moved on to a Seven-Up when Dale and Shaneen walked in. Turning her left wrist up, she made a big show of looking at her watch. Dale, a heavily built woman, made a pantomime of
“don't shoot”,
while slender Shaneen put her hands together in a
Namaste
greeting, then they hugged. The two women wore flowing dresses made from Tibetan prints; on their feet, little decorated felt slippers. They had changed from sturdy winter clothes and boots into performance rig, although in summertime they were always to be found in mystical outfits. Covering their hair were little embroidered pillbox hats.
The permanent sound system was housed in a small room behind the dance area. They played guitars, which had to be amplified. Sidonie set up the microphones while they tuned up, then deeked into the sound room where the switch panel was located for the lights. The club was versatile, having the ability to create any mood. She liked to ring the changes from the revolving ball, to disco lights to strobe, and the way everything was arranged here it was easy. Dale joined her to explain what she wanted with each of the numbers. She handed over the play list and as they ran through the songs, Sidonie checked each of the spots, making notes when she wanted the different colors. Using Shaneen as stand-in, Dale went out front to see the effect and call out changes as needed. Eventually, it was all sorted out and she felt confident she knew what to do.
The club was beginning to fill up and soon Lexi, the DJ for this evening, would take over the music and the night would get rolling. Sidonie moved on to the pool table. Their luck had been in the day one of the members had spotted a full-sized, second-hand slate table for sale. The price was right. The problem was the owner, in a private house, wanted the purchasers to remove it. Well then the fun had begun trying to organize this. So many different suggestions as to how to tackle the problem had been proposed, they'd almost lost the deal, taking forever to figure it out. Sometimes they would reminisce over the pool table days, in good-natured nostalgia. This had been long before her time, though.
Karen walked in with Mitch. Sidonie, just about to make a shot, caught the movement out the corner of her eye and froze in mid strike. Color drained from her face as she registered their presence, then quickly regaining her composure, she struck the ball. She made the pocket, but the set-up for the next shot went too far and caused her all kinds of trouble. She didn't sink the red and had to hand over to Robyn, who finished off the table as she knew she would, with expert dispatch. They shook hands and Sidonie promised with mock severity, she'd get her next time. She watched her prepare to take on the next opponent, then moved over to the bar and ordered a beer. She knew she had to face a confrontation, but her mind wasn't at ease. Only one sip from the froth and her throat had strangely constricted. The swallow almost choked her.
“Keep your cool, Sid,”
she advised and casually strolled over to the secluded booth occupied by the newcomers.
âHi guys,' she called out as she approached, making the contact before being physically present, giving her a chance to evaluate the temper of their reactions and adjust her own accordingly. She dropped her body onto the bench opposite as Mitch inclined her head, in the barest of acknowledgments. Karen looked across stony faced, her eyes giving nothing away, then asked how the game had gone.
She licked her lips, mouth suddenly dry and returned the look with a cool glance. âOkay, 'til the last two, then I gave Robyn a gift and she cleaned up.' She shrugged her shoulders resignedly, trying to keep things light. âHow are you both? Haven't seen you for a while.' This last she asked as she directed her keen blue eyes toward Karen, but the round, baby face spelled annoyance.
âGood, I guess.' Karen's full mouth tightened with disaffection. âHow about you?' The enquiry was delivered in a flat tone.
Mitch sat and watched the two of them. Karen and Sidonie had been together seven months before she came on the scene and was attracted to Karen right off. She was about the same height as Sidonie, but quite the butterball. She liked that; more to enjoy than with these skinny beanpoles. Karen always had a joke on the boil and a laugh going. She liked that too. Someone who was happy-go-lucky. The problem had been ⦠she was with Sidonie and judging by appearances, no hope of any change. Then about two months later, she remembered it had been at Rita's BBQ, Karen had come over all friendly and asked if she was going to the game at Riverdale Park. Like a shot she'd said she'd be there, although prior to that she'd had no intention of going. Their association had continued, but somehow she never quite figured out if it was over between those two, or not. Karen said it was, but there was always tension, like tonight. Now she'd been seeing Karen, more or less as a steady for two months, but she wasn't the bubbly woman she'd first known, and was losing weight too. A few drinks into her, then she was all right; otherwise moody and volatile as all get out.
Sidonie's antennae told her
not tonight.
Karen was not amiable. Perhaps she'd hoped she wouldn't be at the bar? No, that was silly. She knew her routine and being friends of Dale and Shaneen, knew she'd be here. Was that what had brought her out, their show? Or was she still hoping she'd change her mind? She looked searchingly at Karen, those pale eyes aglitter with grievance. To have the relationship broken off and no-one else in the picture ⦠The love object, so highly prized then lost because of what � She felt a flood of sorrow wash over her for Karen. She softened her voice and told her she'd not been doing much, just working out and getting ready for the Amazon Championships.