Since You've Been Gone

'You do,' Angie laughed. 'You do go down like lover numero uno.'

The Union wasn't quite so busy that lunchtime but then again, they were among the first to arrive. Met with the sound of Mike Jagger painting red doors black, Angie thought the place was even better than ever.

'Two Marston's,' Charlie said to the barman, 'and stop staring at my girlfriend's tits.'

'It's a free world,' he countered. 'And she shouldn't put them in the shop window if she doesn't want me to stare.'

'Fair point,' Angie said diplomatically.

'This tends to be our area,' Charlie announced as they took a table to the left of the bar. 'This corner is where we lezzies congregate. Some even call it Lesbians' Corner. It's not reserved or anything; it's just the way it is. If you're ever short of a date, this is the area to prowl. There again, with your record of turning straights, it doesn't really matter where you prowl, does it?'

'I wish I hadn't told you that.'

'Too late lover, you have.'

They eyed each other comfortably as they swigged beer.

'You don't know how to classify yourself, do you?' Charlie said finally.

'I didn't know I had to classify myself.'

'Well you don't have to, obviously. Nobody has to classify herself. But a lot of freshers do seem to feel the need. I guess they're the ones without your vast experience.'

Angie rolled her eyes and said nothing.

'There's a broader range of types of lesbian than there is in any other sexual group,' Charlie said, as if beginning a lecture.

Meanwhile Angie had made eye contact across the bar. Well, eye-body contact. And dead knockout or what! The girl she was looking at was stacked. She had long, curly black hair, a dynamite figure and an oval face with a nose that would have seemed witchy on anyone else. Not on her though. That girl reeked of sex and was staring at Angie as if she was her favourite delicacy.

'Omigod,' Angie breathed, 'have you ever had one of those moments?'

'Oh fuck,' said Charlie, 'it's her.'

The vision of perfection strutted across the bar towards them. Appropriately (or rather, not!!) the juke box began to play Like a Virgin.

Like fucking yes please, Angie thought, momentarily forgetting about Charlie.

'My, my, Charlotte,' the vision said, her attention fixed on Angie. 'Aren't you the greedy one, keeping a treasure like this all to yourself?'

'Eff off Sarah-Jayne,' said Charlie. 'I saw her first.'

'So who is she?' Sarah-Jayne went on. 'And where's Ruby?'

Charlie choked a moment before replying. 'Sarah-Jayne, meet Angie, here for Freshers' Week. Angie, this is Sarah-Jayne with a Y and a hyphen. She's here for anything she can get.'

The suggestion that Sarah-Jayne was some sort of predator didn't exactly deter Angie. 'Meetcha,' she said.

'Delighted,' Sarah-Jayne countered, taking her hand and kissing it. 'I'll see you around, and soon.'

Angie watched a tidy ass, delightfully tightened by high heels, as it shimmied away from her.

Soon, her brain yammered. The sooner the better!

'We spoke about LGBT,' said Charlie. 'Well she's a T.'

With an effort Angie dragged her eyes off Sarah-Jayne's rear. 'Never,' she said.

'Trust me, Angie, stick your hand in her knickers and you'll get more than you bargained for. I have it on good authority that she's hung like a horse. And the hormone therapy hasn't affected her ability, if you get my drift.'

'Does "good authority" mean personal experience?'

'Does it heckers-like; she scares me.' Charlie shrugged. 'She doesn't scare everyone, though.'

'What do you mean?'

'Look at her. She's a girl with a body that doesn't quit and a cock to boot. Some of my friends find that combination to be . . . interesting.'

Even now, knowing what she was, Angie found Sarah-Jayne interesting, but couldn't say exactly why. So she asked the question.

'A lot of lezzie's like penetration but hate men,' Charlie said simply. 'Fucking with her is a step up from being fucked by a girl with a strap-on, isn't it? Given the right mindset, I mean. And don't get me going about bi boys and girls. They all throw themselves at her feet.'

'Bisexual people like boys and girls,' Angie hazarded, 'so she fits both bills.'

'You've got it in a nutshell.'

'And you're not the sort of lesbian that fancies her.'

'I can see the attraction,' Charlie said carefully, 'but I'm more scared than attracted. Having said that, I'm not a big one for . . . Oho, here comes trouble!'

Angie looked up to see a short girl with a long, emerald green mane stamping towards them.

'Who's been fucking in my bed?' the newcomer said loudly.

Angie sized her up as she confronted Charlie, hands on hips, looking like Violet Elizabeth Bott on a bad hair day.

I'll thcream and thcream 'till I'm thick, she thought. Then, grinning: I can!

The girl's blazing eyes matched her hair and the varnish on her talon-like nails. Her slender body and very noticeable chest were quivering with rage.

'There are a thousand interlocking cum-circles on my pristine bedsheets,' she yelled. Then, turning to Angie: 'Are half of them yours? Have you been fucking my wifey?'

Angie was wary of those fingernails but otherwise unafraid. 'I didn't know she even was a wifey,' she said calmly.

'You don't look like the sort who'd bother to ask.'

'This is Ruby,' Charlie said to Angie, seemingly unconcerned. 'Sorry she's gone off on one. She's not supposed to be back until next weekend. Otherwise I'd have changed the sheets.'

'And I'm sorry I never asked,' Angie said to Ruby, aware that by then they had a sizeable audience.

'Oh, so the easy cunt's sorry,' Ruby snarled. 'That makes everything all right, doesn't it?'

Angie stood up. At a shade over six feet she dwarfed Ruby. Not that the pocket dynamo was in any way overawed.

'Charlie's my wifey,' she barked. 'Keep your hands of my property.'

'Did you just say property?' Angie shook her head in amazement.

'Yes I fucking did.' Ruby turned to Charlie. 'Get off your ass and get the fuck home for you-know-what. I'm going to make you wish you'd never been born.'

Charlie got up and shrugged. 'Sorry to leave you, Angie. And thanks for last night. It was the best ten or twelve hours of sex I've had in years.'

The audience audibly gasped at that. A couple of older females actually applauded.

'Get out of this fucking bar this minute!' Ruby roared.

Angie watched as the diminutive, green-haired tyrant led her tall, slightly mannish wifey out of the bar, almost but not quite dragging her by the ear.

Conscious of hundreds of eyes on her, determined not to cut and run, Angie went to the bar.

'Don't mind Ruby,' said the barman as he pulled her pint. 'She's just a bit hot-headed.'

Angie laughed as she accepted a handful of change.

'No, really,' the guy persisted, 'they argue like that in here all the time.'

'Thank you,' said Angie. 'That makes me feel so much better.'

Not wanting to maintain the conversation, she turned away from the bar to find Sarah-Jayne beaming at her.

Chapter Five

'Joe's right,' Sarah-Jayne said. 'Ruby's bark is worse than her bite. She'll give Charlotte a hard time and a bit of a spanking, then they'll be right as rain.'

'Right,' said Angie. 'This happens a lot, does it?'

'Yes it does. Sometimes it's Charlotte who clicks elsewhere, sometimes it's Ruby. But guess what? It's always Charlotte's fault. I reckon they love the confrontation, and the more public the merrier.'

'Ruby's scary,' Angie admitted, 'and those claws of hers! I was glad I was bigger than her. Between you and me, I was worried I might get my eyes scratched out.'

'Give her a day or two and she'll get over it. Meanwhile, think of the publicity: Charlotte, leading light of the Lesbian Society, thanking you for twelve hours of sex. That'll get the girls queuing up for you. That and the waves of lust you send out without even trying, of course.'

Sarah-Jayne was grinning wolfishly as she spoke.

'Twelve hours and a thousand cum-circles,' she said admiringly.

'It was probably nearer ten hours than twelve,' Angie countered with a grin of her own, still confused by her feelings but determined not to show any weakness.

The sexy transgender hooted. 'And you're modest with it! Is there no end to your charms?'

Angie had nearly finished her new pint . . . already. She nodded at Sarah-Jayne's empty wine glass. 'Can I get you a refill?'

'Tragically not, I'm afraid. There's somewhere I have to be. But I'm in here most of the time. You'll be bumping into me again before you know it.' She laughed prettily. 'And with any luck you'll be bumping into me in more ways than one. Ciao.'

'Ciao,' said Angie, watching that shimmying ass retreat once more. She'd taken opportunity to have a good look at Sarah-Jayne close up and had failed to see any masculine signs at all. Everything about her looked natural and sexily feminine, even her double D implants.

No, not "sexily feminine", everything about her was fucking out-and-out hot!

Could Charlie have been winding her up? Could a girl with a body like that really have a . . .

Pangs of hunger struck. It was time to eat. Angie bought another beer and a baguette from Joe and consumed them at the bar. Then, deciding she had lingered long enough not to be accused of having made a bolt for it, she casually left the Union.

*****

The afternoon's first stop was at the halls of residence. Angie had now been "at university" for over a day and had so far spent perhaps thirty minutes in her room. It was a relief to see her belongings all still where she'd left them. She'd half-expected to discover she'd been thrown out already.

Briefly considering rearranging some of the items Mum had unpacked for her, she decided a walk was in order. The weather was fine and she'd been too long in smoky bars. Fresh air and exercise would set her up for . . . Well, for another evening in a smoky bar.

The university town wasn't enormous but it had a decent-sized centre and, over the years, had grown to swallow up smaller surrounding towns and villages. Even so, after a brisk quarter of an hour Angie was in open countryside, breathing in fresh air tinted with a whiff of cow shit. Dry stone walls lined her chosen country lane. Gently rolling hills were all around her. Stands of trees were cloaked in autumnal green, red and gold leaves. Even a non-rambler like her had to concede that it was one of those days when it was good to be alive.

Hungry again, she got back in town shortly after five and stopped to buy haddock and chips at the first fish shop she came to. Eaten out of the paper, using her fingers instead of a puny wooden fork, it was as enjoyable meal as she could remember. As she munched the last of the chips she neared Ye Olde John of Gaunt, the pub she'd dined in the day before.

Yes, with Mummy and Daddy paying, their way of wishing her farewell.

The pub was traditional and alluring. It was easy to decide that her hands needed ridding of grease, salt and vinegar. Dropping her waste in a conveniently placed bin, she went inside and ordered a pint of Landlord. Then, hands duly washed and dried, she leant on the bar and pondered.

Should she spend the evening bar-hopping around town? Or should she go back to the Union? It was Saturday so the town would no doubt be busy. But bar-hopping wasn't much fun on one's lonesome, was it? She wasn't likely to make new friends bar-hopping on her own. If she went back to the Union she'd fall into one conversation or another, wouldn't she?

And if she went back to the Union Sarah-Jayne might be there.

Sarah-Jayne, the girl hung like a horse.

Angie's jury was still out on Sarah-Jayne. Maybe seeing her again after a few jars of Marston's would help her decide, one way or the other.

Well, probably the other.

*****

The bar was rocking and rolling when she got there. She recognized some of last night's small groups and pairings, noticeably less tentative now, not quite so nervous and self-conscious. Pool balls noisily clacked together and guys cursed in various regional accents as well-aimed darts bounced out of the boards. Spassky and Fischer were back in the same old place, looking as if they were still deliberating over the same old moves.

And the juke box was blaring, of course. Just then it was Elvis Costello, not wanting to go to Chelsea.

'Is it a pint of the usual?' Joe asked Angie's tits.

She deliberately wiggled them for him as she said yes. Joe had no chance of getting into bed with her but she'd taken a shine to him. And they were obviously going to be seeing a lot of each other, so why not be friendly?

Sipping her beer, she cast around. Craig was at the bar earnestly chatting to Tim; they'd clearly either hit it off or found an affinity for locomotives. There was no sign of anyone else she'd rubbed shoulders with so, prompted by a change of record to Holidays in the Sun, she set off to examine the selection on the box.

'You won't find much less than ten years old on there, Angie,' someone said before she'd properly begun.

It was another small woman with green hair. This one wasn't spitting and snarling, though. This one was smiling and not at all aggressive.

'I don't really want anything less than ten years old,' Angie said. 'Er, how do you know my name?'

'You're infamous already.' The girl laughed. 'Charlie and Ruby have seen to that.'

Her hair was short and spiky, her shade of green lighter than Ruby's, powdery almost. Punky-ish, she had plenty of visible tattoos and piercings. Her body was slim to the point of being skinny, making her tits seem disproportionally large. "Alternative" was the word that immediately sprang to mind.

And look at those boots: black leather and almost up to her knees!

Angie's nipples were hardening just looking at her.

'I see,' she said. 'You were in at lunchtime, were you?'

'I wouldn't have missed it for the world. I'm Billie, by the way, although some folk call me Will.'

'You're not a fresher, are you?'

'No, but I'm helping out during Freshers' Week, before I start my final year. Say, do you want to see my latest tat?'

When Angie said yes Billie pulled up her T-shirt and tugged down her leggings, exposing her left hip, and exposing a microscopic pair of pink panties, too. The tattoo was in curly old writing. Angie had to lean in to read it.

'"I will if you will,"' she quoted.

'That's what they all say!' Billie laughed delightedly. 'It's a play on words, see? Bill and Will and so will I . . . If I'm asked by the right girl.'

Angie laughed with her. Not laughing wasn't an option.

'I take it you're another member of the Lesbian Society,' she said.

Chapter Six

Billie was good company and, in Angie's mind at least, the night wasn't going to end with mild flirting in the bar. All indications were that Billie felt likewise. And what was that about "mild flirting"? After a few beers their flirting was positively outrageous.

Not that being outrageous was untoward in the Union Bar. In there anything went. Long before nine o'clock even the most reclusive of freshers were up dancing and singing along with Debbie Harry, all of them hanging on invisible telephones.

'Shit,' said Billie, before Angie could ring hers off the wall. 'Don't look.'

As if anyone could ignore a cue like that!

Ruby was standing there in the doorway, holding something in her hand, biding her time. Finally content she had attention from all quarters, she strutted into the bar. And it was immediately apparent she had hold of one end of a dog lead.

Charlie was at the other end; it was attached to a studded leather collar around her neck.

'No fucking way,' Angie gasped.

Billie grabbed her arm before she could intervene.

'Don't make it worse,' she hissed. 'Watch and learn.'

Angie somehow managed to hold back and watch as last night's lover was led into the bar.

'I'll have a pint of Marston's,' Ruby said boldly, 'and a dish of water for my poodle.'

'Not in here,' Joe replied levelly.

'You're such a bore.' Ruby's laugh was shrill and unpleasant. 'Okay, so I'll have two pints of Marston's and don't bother with the water. I'll pour my poodle's beer into an ashtray.'

'And I'll throw you out of the window if you try it,' countered Joe, 'chill or eff off; like right now.'

'Touchy, touchy,' went Ruby. Then, evidently satisfied she'd made the impression she wanted to make: 'Give my doggy a pint. And pat her on the head while you're at it.'

Joe glared at her then pulled two pints.

Billie kept hold of Angie, restraining her.

'It's the way they are, 'she said into Angie's ear. 'She's big enough to resist if she wants, isn't she?'

That was an incontestable argument. Angie stayed where she was.

Ruby wasn't done yet, though. Turning her head, sniffing the air, acting as if she'd scented something foul, she glared at Angie.

'The easy cunt's still here,' she cried, 'five hundred cum-circles and no shame. What a whore!'

Angie was inclined to reply with a witty response. Perhaps with: Three hundred circles more than you, then. But Billie's fingers were digging deep into her arm, sending out warning signals.

So bugger it. Instead of arguing the toss she simply gave Ruby the finger.

'You swivel too,' Ruby retorted. And that was the end of it . . . For the time being, at least.

*****

'She bases herself on that 70s rock star,' Billie explained, 'the one who used to take her girlfriend into her local on a lead. Except with Ruby it's not all about attention, it really is about control as well.'

'I can't believe Charlie puts up with her,' Angie replied. 'Why doesn't she smash her head in?'

'Perhaps conflict is what she wants.' Billie laughed. 'Come on, Angie, they have been at each other's throats for the last year or so. What does that say to you?'

'It says they're crazy.'

'Yes, but they do it again and again. No matter what Ruby does to put her down, Charlie just takes it.'

'I heard that it wasn't always Charlie at fault.'

'She always gets the blame, but it really isn't always her fault. Ruby strays more than she does. In fact you'd better watch your ass, because one of these days she'll be after you.'

'She's got no chance,' Angie said with conviction. 'And besides, she obviously hates me.'

'We'll see about that, won't we; the old love/hate scenario? Let's change the subject. Are you in halls? And what's so funny about me asking?'

'It seems to be a popular leading question in this bar.' Angie laughed. 'Yes, I'm in halls.'

'Have you read all the rules?'

'I did skim through.'

'Well forget them. The only rule that matters is not to upset your neighbours. If they complain about you having sex, the Gestapo will come and get you. If they don't complain, you'll be left alone.'

'I don't even have neighbours. Not unless someone's moved in this afternoon. And why would they complain anyway?'

'Some prudish folk don't like the sound of noisy sex. And those walls aren't very thick. The trick is to screw in silence. That can be quite exciting in itself: not being able to beg and cry out. Being furtive only adds to the experience, if you ask me.' Billie paused before saying: 'I'm quite the expert on activities in halls after dark. I can show you how it's done, if you want.'

Taking Angie's silence as indecision, she exposed her new tattoo again and grinned.

It still read: "I will if you will".

'Do you have a Ruby figure lurking in the background?' Angie asked.

'I absolutely do not. I'm playing the field like a good 'un.'

'Like me, you mean?'

'I wish.'

'I will if you will.' Angie nodded. 'In that case so will I.'

Chapter Seven

Sarah-Jayne was arriving as they left the bar.

'My turn next,' she called after them, 'and not with you, Skinny Arse!'

Angie took "Skinny Arse" to mean her companion. Her own arse didn't carry an ounce of fat, but nobody in her right mind would ever call it skinny.