In part two we saw Susan and Astrid go part of the way but they were stopped when Susan threw up after drinking too much. In this next part however we move onto the next day and the consequences of their encounter on the couch. Susan is definitely interested but is she curious enough to want to go further or will she put it down to an alcohol-fuelled urge?
Author’s note: Whilst the two bikie gangs mentioned are fictional, the concept of feeder clubs is a real thing. A milk bar is a general store in Australia.
It’s been two days since I had a chance to sit down at the computer but I’ve been busy, I sent the last part to Astrid and she was intrigued by my perspective. “I always blamed myself for that despite the fact I knew you’d had too much to drink. I should’ve been more careful and suggested that you ease up on the drinking.”
She might have a point, technically, but no one forced the bourbon down my throat. I alone poured the drink and proceeded to consume a quite potent mix of Southern Comfort and Coke. I’ve never been able to drink Southern Comfort since, it’s a natural bodily reaction to anything you’ve thrown up on. I hate Bacardi and Bundaberg rum for the same reason and I’ve tried all three drinks in the intervening years. I like a nice wine, the occasional beer and drinks like Tia Maria and Bailey’s but I’m not a big drinker. My ex husband was the drinker, he consumed far too much and still does now that we’re divorced but let’s not talk about him yet!
Going back to Sunday morning though, I remember waking up a few hours after I’d passed out to find I was in my bra and knickers. Astrid had probably taken my kilt off, or maybe I’d done it in my sleep or a blackout but she was lying beside me stark naked and fast asleep. I got up to go for a piss and relive the night. It had been a momentous one, I’d done so many ‘firsts’ that it was almost as if I’d stepped into a parallel universe. Going out with a lesbian on a date, going to a club, dancing in public, being hit on by a woman and getting on with my date were all new experiences and now she was lying in my bed naked.
I stood staring at her a few minutes later, trying to work out if this was a dream but eventually I got into my nightie and laid down again. My head felt a bit fuzzy but I didn’t have a hangover but I’d heard they could be crippling. I finally fell asleep and woke up several hours later with the sun in my eyes and the feeling that someone had slapped my face. My eyes flickered open and I shut them again instantly, a shaft of light was shining through a gap in the curtains and someone was sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Hey, you awake now?”
It was Shobi’s voice and I opened my eyes slowly and shielded them against the light, she was on the edge of the bed and I could feel Astrid beside me. She too stirred and rolled over and then sat up and looked down at me as Shobi shifted back suddenly and looked over at Astrid, I could tell what she was thinking and felt the colour in my cheeks.
“She had a hard night last night,” Astrid explained.
“Yeah, I can tell that, you stink of bourbon,” she smirked, “has my good girl finally gone bad? Or is this a once in a lifetime thing?”
“Maybe,” I lowered my hand, “nothing happened last night.”
Shobi’s face was almost implacable as she glanced briefly at Astrid again and then she shrugged and stood up.
“Whatever, it’s not a crime if it did happen anyway but Adam and I are off to Daylesford for the day and I’ll be crashing at his joint tonight because I’ve got the day off tomorrow. Can you please make sure the porch light is off tonight when you go to bed?”
“Yeah, sure,” I replied.
“Cool, I’ve got to leave in about five minutes, Adam’s ducked up to Seven Eleven to grab some shit to eat and drink on the way, see you both tomorrow,” she patted my stomach and rose.
I watched her leave the room and then closed my eyes.
“How’s your head?” Astrid asked me.
“A bit fuzzy but I’m not too bad. I expected a hangover this morning but I don’t know if that’s what I’ve got or not.”
“Do you have a headache?”
“No, I just feel a bit drowsy and my mouth is dry.”
“Get some more water into you then, you’ve probably got a slight hangover.”
She was right of course and after a couple of glasses of water and a shower I felt refreshed and a bit more alert. Astrid stayed in my bedroom while I showered. It only occurred to me that perhaps I should’ve taken clothes in as well but I was still a bit groggy! Standing naked in the shower though reminded me that if I hadn’t thrown up then she would’ve seen me naked but was that a good thing or a bad thing?
Prior to last night I hadn’t given much thought to my virginity, in that it wasn’t at the top of my ‘to lose’ list but I’d never had a serious boyfriend and I’m leaving one guy out because I was sixteen and misread the signals. He just wanted friendship, I wanted more and when he realised that he ditched me and moved on. Since then, staying celibate until marriage had been a mantra that was part of my psyche istanbul travesti but I still felt a little strange about it. To put it bluntly, staying celibate was an automated response that didn’t require any effort from me. In reality, I’d admitted to myself that I might very well succumb to temptation and sleep with a guy before my wedding night but I’d just assumed that it would happen without any input from me.
Reading over what I’ve written though it does seem weird that I could hold two contrasting ideas in perfect tension but there you have it.
However, being alone in the bathroom gave me time to think about it as I dried my hair in front of the mirror. Had I put it off because of any particular phobia? Granted I went to church but unlike my sisters, I had far more non Christian friends than Christian and thus my resistance to losing my virginity before my wedding night wasn’t so entrenched. I still didn’t have an answer some twenty minutes later as I wrapped a towel around my semi naked body and stepped out of the bathroom. Astrid was still on my bed but she was lying down staring at the ceiling. She had put on a singlet and a pair of pyjama shorts and our eyes met as I entered the bedroom and then she managed a half smile.
“In case you’re wondering,” she propped on her elbows, “nothing happened after you passed out. I came in to find you fast asleep and decided to sleep next to you. It’s my phobia, it goes back to when I was nineteen.”
“What happened then?”
“I was out drinking with my girlfriends and one of them, Pia, got very drunk. We went back to her place to drink some more and she still seemed okay and so we all went home but sometime in the middle of the night she choked on her own vomit and died,” she bit her lip.
“It wasn’t our fault but I always blamed myself because if I’d stayed at her place then maybe she’d still be alive. Even now, if I’ve been out drinking with a friend and we go back to her place to sleep, I will always check on her in the middle of the night.”
“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” I touched my glasses, “I didn’t know that.”
“Well now you know,” she fell back, “my friends and family all tell me it’s not my fault but I can’t help but blame myself for it.”
“I think that’s still a good thing but I wouldn’t say it’s your fault,” I eyed myself in the mirror, “you learned a lesson from a tragic event.”
“Speaking of learning, what have you learned?”
“Not to get drunk on an empty stomach,” I replied.
“The rest I don’t know about, I mean I like you and I’m okay with what happened but there’s still a question hanging over the whole thing,” I turned to face her, “did it happen because I was drunk or am I that way inclined?”
“You should go out on your own for a few hours, go to church if you want but have a think about what it meant and then we can talk.”
“Oh,” I blinked, “you want me to go to church? That doesn’t sound like a very gay thing to do.”
“It’s not about being gay or not being gay, it’s all about finding what turns you on. You might like boys and girls, or maybe just girls. Some women can have sex with women while they’re drunk but can’t when they’re sober, others can do it after a few joints but we’re all different.”
I nodded as I stared at the curtains.
“And it’s not a conquest, I don’t carve notches on my belt every time I sleep with a woman. I have to have a shower anyway, so why don’t you get dressed and go out somewhere and think about what turned you on or off. It’s a learning curve, you didn’t know much before you started but now you’ve learned something. Your sexuality and sexual likes and dislikes change over time so nothing is set in stone, okay?”
“Okay,” I straightened up and turned back to my wardrobe, “I’ll go for a drive.”
I rose and opened the wardrobe and selected the red double-breasted blouse because I hadn’t worn it yet, and matched that with the kilt I’d worn last night. Astrid watched me dress and it didn’t bother me that she was lying there in her pyjamas.
“I know I’ve changed,” I fastened the thin belt on my kilt, “I’d have felt strange getting dressed in front of you knowing that you’re gay but it felt,” I stared at the curtains.
“I don’t know,” I finished awkwardly.
“Yeah, normal but before it would’ve felt abnormal.”
“Interesting, so what about when you were at school in the changing room? Did you feel awkward getting undressed and dressed in front of other girls?”
“Kind of and I didn’t know why,” I replied, “I hadn’t thought about it until recently.”
“Why? What were you afraid of?”
“I was afraid of being accused of looking at girls. There was this one girl,” I frowned, “Natasha, she was one of the school bullies and we were all afraid of her. She used to provoke girls into fighting by accusing them of being gay and it’d usually start by her claiming some girl was perving at her,” I reached for a jacket.
“She sounds a bit gay herself, certainly homophobic.”
“Oh she was homophobic but she was also istanbul travestileri racist but I was terrified of her.”
“So, did she bully you?”
“Yeah, she picked on me for being Christian,” I started putting the jacket on, “but then she made the mistake of picking on Shobi. She first accused of her staring at her in the changing room and then she called her a Chokito and Shobi turned around and slammed her into a wall and kneed her in the gut, she had a nasty bruise on her face as well.”
“Ouch,” she winced, “what’s a Chokito?”
“It’s a racist term for someone with dark skin, we have Chokito chocolate bars.”
“Ah, I get it,” she rolled over and propped on her elbow, “Shobi doesn’t appear to be the violent type but it’s not a nice thing to say.”
“It wasn’t what she called her, she’d picked on me and I’m her best friend. She wasn’t there when Natasha hassled me but I’d told her about it. It’d happened a few weeks previously but Shobi was just waiting for a chance to take her revenge,” I smirked.
“After that Natasha was moved to another school. She tried to claim she’d been bullied but all the teachers knew she was bullshitting, there’d been too many complaints and she’d been suspended once already for hitting a teacher.”
“Revenge is a dish best eaten cold,” Astrid sat up and put her back against the bedhead.
I walked over to the dressing table and sat down to do my makeup while Astrid watched me, it felt a little strange having her watching me do my makeup after what had happened last night.
“So, what did you like about last night?” she eventually asked.
“I liked the spontaneity,” I replied, “I wasn’t expecting it,” I looked at her reflection in the mirror, “it felt dangerous too.”
“Dangerous?” Astrid grinned, “I’ve never been called dangerous.”
“Maybe that was the wrong word,” I frowned, “risky?”
Risky, yeah, I didn’t know what to do after you kissed me.”
I didn’t reply to that for a minute or so.
“I hadn’t thought about it from that angle but you’re right,” I picked up the lipstick and started to apply it, “there is another thing I liked.”
I didn’t reply until I’d finished doing my lips.
“I liked being undressed,” I twisted the bottom of the tube and put the cap on, “it felt, sensual.”
“Sensual,” Astrid cocked her head to one side, “good to know.”
I put the lipstick into my handbag and turned around to look at her. Our eyes met and I managed a slight smile.
“Um, I’ve got to grab a coffee and then go out.”
“Yes ma’am,” she slid forward, “I’ll see you later on, sometime?”
“I’ll be home today, just not sure when.”
Well that’s it for tonight, I’ve got to get to bed but I’ll write more tomorrow.
I’ve had a busy few days, I packed up the clothes I can’t take with me and took them up to Robyn and Penny’s place. Many of the clothes were items she’d made years ago and they no long fit me but Robyn’s been taking older clothes she once made and recycling them. She donates them to a local charity who work with refugees and homeless people. She also promised to remake some of the clothes for me and post them to Copenhagen for me in the next few months. God, I love that woman, she’s such a breath of fresh air in a world that has turned cold and nasty.
While I was there we talked about what I’d written and the subject turned to sex and our personal preferences when it came to lovemaking. Like me, she, and Penny have a penchant for undressing each other and that relates to their own individual first time experiences. In her opinion and I have to admit she’s got a point, you set the tone very early on when it comes to preferences. If you liked it the first time you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to recapture the old days, reproducing it over a series of partners.
In that I’m in agreement. I too have a fondness for disrobing a partner and being disrobed myself but Rodney was always too quick. Once his boxer shorts were over his arse he was ready for action even if I was still mostly dressed. Half the time he was still partially dressed and afterwards he’d just get up and walk away to have a shower and get on with doing something else. I’ve had better relationships with vibrators.
But I’m getting ahead of myself yet again. My first port of call was going to be Croydon Market but instead I drove past Wicklow Avenue and continued down Mt Dandenong Road to Kilsyth and my church near Collins Place. Once there however I froze, not literally, I waved to several people but as I sat in my car I felt a growing sense of unease and irritation. The sun was shining, the sky was blue but scattered with white fluffy clouds, I could smell the freshness in the air. It was the perfect day to go for a drive in the hills or browse the stalls at the market or even just lie back in a deckchair in the backyard.
Instead I was sitting outside church watching everyone walking in. They would walk out soon and go into the coffee shop for their usual natter, inane conversations about travesti istanbul work, home and whilst those things might have been interesting to them they bored me. I can’t remember the number of times I sat through another story about what one woman’s children were doing or what a blessing they were to that woman’s life. I’d accumulated a heap of older women as friends, who were either married or engaged, I was the sweet young thing who brought a breath of fresh air. Today however I saw it for what it was, there was security in having older friends. There was no peer group pressure to find a boyfriend, these women all had partners. They in turn took me under their wing under the guise of ‘helping me,’ and it wasn’t always bad to be honest.
We apparently needed the youth at church, especially younger people who would marry and continue the cycle of giving birth and raising children in the ways of the Lord. Normally I looked forward to seeing them but today I felt nothing but dread.
Why? I knew they would see through me in an instant. That’s an advantage to growing older, you gain experience and can sense something’s wrong even if the other person hasn’t said anything and I knew they’d want to gather me under their wings like mother hens. My lips tightened and then I jumped as someone knocked on my passenger window. I turned to find Lindsay peering through the window at me. I raised my hand weakly and she tugged at the door handle.
A moment later I leaned over and unlocked the door.
“Hey, how are you? Sorry if I frightened you.”
“I didn’t even know you were here,” I replied.
“I got here fifteen minutes ago, I was in the coffee shop dropping off some clothes for Robyn and I was just going to drive away when I saw your car,” she paused, “you’ve been sitting here for about five minutes, is something wrong?”
I opened my mouth to say that I was fine but instead I said, “I pashed on with Astrid last night.”
“Oh, okay,” she smiled crookedly, “well that explains it.”
“I’m a slut,” I announced rather suddenly and Lindsay stared at me and then chuckled.
“Um, have you got a dictionary? You need to use it more often, I’ve read the definition of that word and unless you’re leading a double life you don’t fit the definition.”
“Then I’m a hypocrite,” I replied, “look at me, I go to church but I pashed on with a woman, she just about had me undressed last night but then,” I stopped.
“What happened next?”
“I threw up, I was pissed last night too.”
“Been there, done that,” Lindsay nodded, “although it was a few years ago, before I started coming here,” she flicked at her hair.
“But you’re not a hypocrite either,” she looked forward and then pointed to a woman, “now Anne is a bloody hypocrite, she likes to pretend she’s as pure as the driven snow but her marriage is on the rocks,” she smirked.
“Anne? She’s one of the elders although her husband goes to another church.”
“That’s what she tells everyone but I have it on good authority that he’s having an affair with one of my old friends from school.”
I digested this news in silence and Lindsay nudged my hand.
“So, you have a choice. You can go in there and listen to another sermon, and then sit amongst the old chooks and pretend you’re fine or you can follow me to Josie’s joint. I’ve got to drop off some clothes for her and Annabelle, we can have a coffee and a bit of cake.”
“My stomach is a bit funny at the moment but I haven’t eaten yet,” I replied.
“So we’ll give you some toast.”
I closed my eyes and then nodded.
“No worries, follow me,” she opened the door.
A few minutes later I followed her out of the carpark and onto Mt Dandenong Road and then onto Durham Road and finally Anita Street. It was literally three minutes by car although the roads were busy at that time of day.
I’d heard of Josie at that meeting but I can’t remember what was said about her. Lindsay mentioned in passing as we walked past a late model Holden Monaro that Robyn had once lived here and then we were at the front door. The girl who answered the door looked about ten or so.
“I brought clothes for your mothers,” Lindsay held the clothes up.
“Oh, hiya,” she grinned, “thank you, come in, my mums are out the back with the dogs, I’m Jorani by the way,” she looked at me.
“Susan,” I replied.
“Pleased to meet you,” she opened the flywire door wider, “welcome.”
I stepped inside and was greeted by another girl who must have been her twin sister, they were of Asian extraction with broad Australian accents.
“That’s my sister, Sokha, and our cat, Cat.”
Cat stared at me as if I was an alien and Sokha flicked his nose.
“Be nice now.”
“This is Susan,” Jorani introduced me.
I waved at her and then she led us out to the backyard. It had an extension that jutted out from the rear of the house. A paved patio extended partway out into the yard, it had a roof of corrugated iron and was open on all sides, a barbecue was to my left along with shelving, a cupboard and a fridge. A woman with dark brown hair was raking the lawn clippings into a pile while another woman with black hair tied in a ponytail unscrewed the lid of a large compost bin. Two dogs were sniffing their way around the yard, a King Charles spaniel and a blue heeler.