The sun had nearly set but not quite as Liz Monroe made her way down the quay to Nancy Jeans quay side bar. It was a place where she knew she would find solace amongst her own. She was a lady who loved ladies and here, at Nancy Jean’s Bar and Lady Love Dance Hall She would find the very peace she craved to heal her wounded heart.
As she swung open the door, the heavy beat of Melissa Etheridge greeted her ears and she made her way to the bar past the throngs of heaving lesbian bodies, breast against breast, feeling the beat of the music pulsing up from the floor through the lesbian legs and across the trembling mound of venus and on and up to their hearts and then faces. This was the kind of place Liz called home. And she was proud.
It hadn’t always been that way though. And Liz knew it.
Though tonight she wasn’t going to let that upset her. She made her way past the heaving throngs moving their bodies to the thump of Joan Armatrading and sat herself down at the bar on the only available stool. She gazed around at the plethora of lesbian flesh moving and grooving in time to the tones and tunes of Kd Land and felt her foot start to tap automatically without effort against the bar.
Joyce, the friendly barmaid with whom Liz had once enjoyed a brief fling, approached Liz and exclaimed, “You look like you could use a drink Lizzy”. Lizzy liked it when Joyce, the weatherbeaten former fisherman used her nickname. It made her feel one of the crowd and she smiled as she ordered a campari and soda and then turned back to see the heaving masses of lesbian bodies moving in time to Dusty Springfield.
As she sipped at her drink she though back to some of that lady loving she had shared with Joyce so long ago and as she watched the young set move to the grooves of Elton John’s Nikita she slipped quietly down memory lane and allowed herself to drift off to happier times, oblivious to the thump of the disco beat moving through her still suppole breasts…….”go on,” she remembered, “go faster”. And she was lost then, in time, the time of Joyce.
I couldn’t, little did she know. Since my accident I had been unable to go any faster than I was doing right now. But Joyce, I could sense she was the kind of girl who needed fast, and I, well, maybe I just wasn’t the gal for her. “Joyce” I said softly into her her ear, “I guess I can’t go any faster, my love”.
Joyce face turned toward me and at that moment I knew full well that our love was over.
It would be hard to love someone as myself. A woman, though strong in spirit, weak in the flesh.
Joyce eased herself up from the bed and looked into my eyes, “I care so much for you, but …I guess I need someone a little stronger than you. I could have loved you, though it would have been oh so very unfair on both of us for a love to go any deeper, a love that we both know would cause pain in the end.”
I had to admit that Joyce was right. I stood up from the bed and put some Janis Ian on the turntable and turned back to Joyce. “Would you care to dance my lady love”? I said and held my hand out to her.
She took my hand and raised herslef up off the bed and we moved tenderly around her caravan, both fully conscious that this would be our last dance. That tomorrow she would be dancing with another and I, I would most likely be dancing with no one.
Liz sipped at her drink and list herself to thought as Martina Navratilova’s new track spun on the turntable. She watched the young lady lovers move and groove and wished that she too had been able to move and groove in such totally homosexual manner. But life hadn’t turend out like that for Lizzy. And she knew it and that, that simple fact made her sad.
She turned her face away from the throbbing crowd and fished in her dungarees for her lucky strikes. As she moved the cigarette up toward her lesbian lips, lips that tonight, she knew, would not be meeting those of another, a hand came from no where and struck up a light.
Lizzy’s cigarette sparked in to life as she drew deeply on the filter, drawing the generous smoke into the eager lesbian lungs.
She turned to see who it was who had lit that tiny fire at the end of her lips.
And when she looked into the eyes of the women who had sparked that luck strike into life, she felt her heart stike into life once again.
And she felt a tiny fire light in other lips, other lips that hadn’t seen such light for such a long long, lady lovin time………
to be continued…………………
