Date: Fri, 11 Jul 2003 23:53:56 -0700 (PDT)
From: Suzy Suburbanite <suzy999999@yahoo.com>
Subject: The New Girl

Notes & Disclaimers:

This story is set in a land far, far away where unsafe sex has no
consequences; a land where HIV/AIDS, Hepatitis, and other STDs don't
exist.  PLEASE DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME!  It is fiction...it is FANTASY!

This story is a work of FICTION!  None of the characters or events herein
is based on real people, either living or dead.  It was produced for the
entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex.
If you are not an adult, or if reading stories of a sexual nature upsets
you, do not read any further! By reading further, you certify that you
have accessed/requested access to this material willfully, and that you
are an adult of legal majority in your jurisdiction.

Feedback is appreciated to: suzy999999@yahoo.com

Thanks to all who wrote regarding my previous stories!  Cheers!

Enjoy,
Suzy

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The New Girl

By: Suzy Suburbanite


Every time I entered the Butterfly on a week night I got terribly excited.
 Not so much because the true diehards were out, randy and ready, but
because this is when most of the straight girls and curiosity seekers went
out to scratch that itch that just would not go away.  They thought the
Butterfly was a "safe" dyke bar: and I really dig that.

"Hey Danni," I greeted the bartender with an unusually cheery voice for a
Wednesday evening.

"Hey Joan," her response seeming less than enthusiastic, "what brings you
out this late on 'Hump day'?"

Late?  Cheese Louise, it was only ten o'clock.  But as I thought about it,
this was pretty late for anything but drinking.  "Oh, you know me."

Actually, she didn't know me very well.  But, Danni had always been
friendly and eager, and I really wasn't up to a long, drawn-out
conversation about my need for some soft, tender companionship.

I guess she got the hint from my lack of either facial expression or my
rasin smuggling routine, as her demeanor changed from interested to
unenthusiastic again, "So, what'ya have?"

"Just a ginger ale please," I asked politely as I scanned the barroom for
potential bedmates for the night.

"All right then, Sprite and Coke it is."

My mind never even digested her comment about delivering me the
"bartender's ginger ale" as my eyes were locked onto the only other woman
along the otherwise deserted bar.  She was a lipstick goddess; slim, sexy,
and feminine.  She was obviously straight, from the long fingernails, and
obviously nervous judging by the way her heels bounced a mile-a-minute off
the brass bar rail.

"Hey," I nodded towards the bouncing wannabe, "what's her deal?" I asked
Danni.

"Dunno, but I think she's trying to find the nerve for the first time, or
she's had so much to drink that she can't move."

"How long has she been here?"

"Since five thirty," Danni's expression now took on a glint of
mischievousness and expectancy.  "You gonna give her a go?"

"Maybe," I winked at my bartender confidant.

"Well Joannie, if you don't get her, then I'm taking her home after my
shift and fucking her silly," Danni said, a semi-evil grin plastered to
her face.

"Slut."

"Bitch," we both giggled as Danni placed my drink before me.  "On the
house sweetie."

"So what's her name?"

"Dunno, every lip gnasher that's come in tonight has tried, and nobody's
managed to get beyond 'Hi, my name is...'"

I chuckled a bit, thinking of all the women, just like me, who tried to
get under that skirt tonight.  How should I try?  What makes me so
different from the others?

I gave the "lipstick" woman a long, hard look.  Who is she; really?  I
mean, what is she expecting?  What brought her to this place?  Is she here
by mistake; just looking for a place to get drunk after a bad day at work?
 Did a controlling, ass of a boyfriend or husband send her out to find his
fantasy sex partner?  Or, is she here, tapping her heels like that and
virtually sipping her drink with her eyes, because she needs that certain
something, but she's to terribly conflicted to actually do anything about
it?

"What's she drinking?"

"What're you buying?"

"That bad huh?"

"Just about, that girl is fucked-up, big time," Danni finished; rolling
her eyes as if to let me in on a dyke conspiracy to lay the straight girl.

"Just bring me two of whatever she's drinking," I winked to my
co-conspirator.

Two minutes later I was standing next to the new girl, clearing my throat
lightly, "Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

The bitch ignored me.  She sat there staring into her double vodka rocks
as if I didn't just ask her a question.  I looked over at Danni and cocked
my head like a confused terrier, while the now laughing bartender just
shrugged her shoulders as if to say, "Told you so."

"Excuse me?  HEY," the damn girl didn't budge, but now all eyes in the
barroom were upon me.  All of them were waiting for me to fail in her
seduction just as the others before me.  Some women were laughing, some
were grinning, others just looked on with slightly bored interest as the
game to bed the straight girl continued.

Finally, out of frustration, I gave her a good nudge on the shoulder.  The
girl jumped about a mile straight up off her barstool.  She appeared to be
truly stunned at my touch as she turned towards me with a look of sheer
terror in her eyes.

"Is anybody sitting here?" I asked again, gesturing towards the stool next
to her.

She stared at me as if I'd just descended from another planet; shifting
her eyes all around my face and settling on the empty, cold leather of the
vacant stool beside her.

'Hmm, maybe she's from out of town, way, way out of town, like Inner
Mongolia or
something,' I thought as I pointed to myself and then the barstool.

She got the message and nodded vigorously in the affirmative.  When my
wide bottom kissed the crisp, cool leather of the barstool I felt like the
conquering heroine, `Baby, meet Buffy^ÅBuffy, baby,' and so-forth.  I
could've sworn I heard a collective gasp of surprise from the entire bar
as they watched the previously stuck-up straight girl offer me the seat
next to her.

Scooting my bum firmly into place, I rambled, as I have a bad habit of
doing when meeting potential fuck bunnies.  I rambled, at least until she
stopped me by tapping my arm and holding her hand up to say, "Stop."

The stand-offish woman reached across the bar to grab a cocktail napkin,
pulled a pen from her purse and wrote furiously for a second or so, then
slid the paper in front of me.

"Please look at me when you talk, I'm deaf.  Do you sign?  My name is
Lisa."

Dumbfounded: utterly, totally, abso-fucking-lutely dumbfounded is what I
was upon reading her note.  I had to laugh, but I didn't want to embarrass
her.  But, the guffaw welled-up from somewhere deep in my belly as I
looked into her hypnotic eyes, and then the joyous melee burst forth.  It
was giddy, uncontrolled laughter as I realized all the impatient dykes
before me had never just tapped on her shoulder.

"I'm Joan," I scribbled as my laugh turned to a chuckle and then just an
occasional "harrumph".

"Hi Joan.  Do you sign?"

There was almost a pleading for me to be able to communicate with her in a
familiar fashion.  Her eyes told the whole story: there was desperation,
loneliness, betrayal, and a hurt that cuts through bone and soul alike.
She was no longer my prey.  I felt something else, something real and
needful when I looked at her in this new light.  Was this pity?
Understanding?  Maybe a true desire to show her that she'd found her home,
her family, a sisterhood?

'Too fucking deep for ten thirty on a Wednesday night,' I thought.

Lisa was still staring at me as I'd pondered; her eyes moistening and her
lower lip quivering, as if waiting for an all too familiar rejection that
she knew was coming.  But, I surprised her, and even myself, as I leaned
close to that lovely face and kissed first her right cheek, then the left,
and finally her forehead before holding her at arms length and brightly
smiling my acceptance and desire.

"Do you two ladies want another round?" Danni interrupted as Lisa and I
held a mesmerizing, understanding, eye-lock.

I glanced over my left shoulder, "She's deaf Danni," my silly, "Dyke out
for a hump," voice replaced by a tone more serious, lusty, and intent.

Then Danni started laughing as Lisa still held my gaze.  I watched with
rapt fascination as her delicate hands reached to cup my face; drawing me
towards her to return my gentle affection.  Much to my surprise, she
smooched me right on the lips and then drew back to ensure that she hadn't
gone too far.  This time I was positive I heard a sucking of air from the
barroom, as straight, deaf Lisa pulled me towards her a second time, eyes
closed, mouth open, for what was to be the most passionate, delicate kiss
of my life.

"She's deaf you dumb cunts," Danni hollered, informing all the previous
pretenders of their misguided attempts at fucking Lisa.

"Danni!" I threw her a scornful glare, "stop, ok?"

"Well la-de-da," she sang back at me.

Lisa was trying to keep up reading lips, but wasn't able.  Her expression
became fearful again.  Her breathing quickened.  She reached for another
napkin, "What's going on?  What are you saying?" she wrote half-panicked.

"Nothing," I wrote back, "just stupid dykes doing stupid dyke things,
nothing to worry about.  Ok?"

"Ok."

I smiled.  She smiled.  And then I returned her soulful kiss which left
both of us breathless.  Lisa was positively beaming as she reached for a
new napkin to scrawl "the" big message of the night, "Are you going to
make love to me?"

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever been with a girl?"

"No."

"Why me?  Why now?"

"Please," she jotted on the crowded square of paper without answering my
question.

I grabbed a new napkin, "You'll break my heart," I stated as a matter of
fact; knowing that there was something beyond sex with this girl.

"No."

"Please don't."

I looked at her again from head-to-toe: the smooth legs, narrow ankles,
gently-flaring hips, little bumps of breasts, the gentle slope from her
shoulders to her neck, and the face of Venus herself.  "Please don't ever
hurt me," I begged again.

"I won't.  Show me how, please."

Lisa's chest was heaving in anticipation as I took her hand in mine and
led her from the bar.  Her face and breast flush with color, her hands
cool and clammy with the nerves of that first time.

Once in my car, I found a scrap of paper to write on, "Do you want to fall
in love?"

"Yes," she gasped, lightly.

And I knew that this was going to be much more than a one night stand with
the new straight girl.

------------------------------------------------

And who says suburbia is a cultural wasteland.

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Copyright 2002-2003 Anonymous, Arlington VA USA