There is, if you look, a bar like it in every town. Back home it was Ernie’s; a small friendly bar where women meet other women. In LA, where I found myself working as close protection for an actress, Faye Millerton, it was Matt’s. A good friend, Hannah, had recommended it and when Steph had to go home. It was where I went to fill the vacuum her departure left. I’ll explain why Steph had to go home a bit later on.
One Friday evening while Millerton was in DC attending a ball at the White House I was there, knowing I would not be needed for a few days. The other close team were covering her so Carla was free to go hunting. I’d chosen a rather short, black leather skirt, a mulberry silk, sleeveless shirt with a pale grey linen jacket and a good pair of black three-inch heels.
Matt (properly Matilda) was younger than Ernestine back home, and, unlike Ernie, far from butch. She was short, a blonde with long hair and a slim figure that was usually clad in a long dress, as it was this Friday evening. It was ten pm and the place was fairly quiet, so I sat on a stool at the bar chatting to Matt. She knew my friend Hannah well and had made me very welcome.
“All alone, this evening?”
“So far, Matt, so far.”
She smiled. “Dressed like that you ain’t gonna be alone too long, honey.” That was the plan of course. “Your pal, she your kind of woman?”
Hannah was tall, butch, and fucking gorgeous. “Yes, Matt, she’s definitely my kind of woman.”
“Rules me out then,” she smiled. “She’s kinda my type too.” So, we understood each other. “Now that,” she was pointing with her chin to a woman at the far end of the bar, “is one disappointed woman. She came to Hollywood looking to be an actress. That was ten years ago and she is still working as a clerk in the local police station. We get hundreds like that here. Some get over it and make a life. Others blame everyone but themselves. She is a blamer. Steer clear, my advice.”
“Thanks, Matt.” Without her advice, I might well have made a move. The woman was good looking, dressed pretty well but, as I covertly watched her, she was drinking in that steady way that drunks do. Bad news.
“But, I’ll keep an eye out for someone who might just fit your bill if you’d like me to?”
“Kind of you, Matt, I appreciate it.”
She refilled my glass of wine, good stuff, and wandered off to serve another customer and gee up the lazy bitch of a barmaid. “I keep her because the punters like her,” Matt had explained. I could see why they would. If she’d coughed too hard her girls would have been flying around, unleashed.
So, I know you’re dying to know, why had Steph gone home?
One evening Millerton was due at a radio station for an interview. Frank, my one-handed colleague, Steph and I were on duty and waiting outside Millerton’s villa by the car to take her. She came out looking like she was pissed off. “Sorry, chaps, change of plan.” We seriously do not like plan changes. “I have to meet my agent at the Corsair Hotel before we go to the station.” We may not like changes, but the client is the boss, so off we went. I sat in the back with Faye and Steph was in front with Frank.
We arrived at the hotel and Steph got out first and stood with her back to Faye’s now open door, looking forwards. I got out and stood nearer to the rear wheel watching the rear sector. Faye got half out, then ducked back to grab her bag and came out. The gunshot came from my left, went through the door’s window and hit Steph who was thrown forward, screaming. I bodily lifted Millerton, threw her onto the back seat and dived on top of her while Frank, one-handed, hauled Steph into the car and we drove off, tyres squealing.
Frank drove like hell to the nearest hospital while Faye and I disentangled and leaned over to try and help Steph as best I could. Frank called the police as he drove and explained the situation. Faye was shaken to her core, sobbing and definitely in shock so, on arrival at the hospital we got them both inside to the Emergency department. Frank stayed with Faye while I tried to get Steph sorted. That done, we dealt with the police. Our weapons were confiscated for analysis and we were ordered to be at the police station to make statements when we’d been checked by the medics.
Steph wouldn’t be working for a while. Her shoulder was in a bad way and so, when she was discharged, she went home. And so, I found myself at Matt’s. I hadn’t had sex for a while; longer than I’d normally go without and this was the first chance I’d had after the maelstrom of events that had followed the shooting which, it was assumed had been the work of the animal rights crazies who had made very explicit threats against Millerton for her role in a film about a lawyer representing a pharmaceutical company trying to avoid being prevented from using animals in experiments.
“Are you all alone? Pretty little thing like you should have someone to look after her.” If only, she, the woman standing beside me, knew. I half turned towards her and looked up. She was pretty bloody tasty. A cap of black hair, a dark blue suit over an open white shirt, black loafers with tassels. Maybe, I guessed, five feet ten inches and not a lot of spare weight on her. ”I’m V, spelt, V.E.E.”
“Are you now?”
"And you are?”
“Carla.”
“So, how come you’re alone? Matt told me you were, and I simply couldn’t believe it.”
“I’m a long way from home and travelling alone,” which wasn’t exactly true but I wasn’t going to tell her too much. I wasn’t looking for romance now was I?
“Let me buy you a drink and see if we like each other?”
She placed her small rucksack on a neighbouring stool, sat down and ordered us a drink. And like her, I did. The thing about some butch women, like her, is that they are women, not would-be men, but they choose the look and the attitude; the attitude is usually what does it for me.
“So, Vee, how come you’re alone?”
“Am I? I rather thought I was with you.”
Moving to a table away from the bar, we fenced a bit and flirted and eventually reached an obviously mutual conclusion that we’d rather like to things to take their natural course.
“I need the toilet,” I said, giving her a look that, I hoped, invited her to come with me.
“We can do better than that.” Without explaining, she stood and went to the bar, took something from Matt after a brief discussion and came back. “Come with me.” I followed her through the back of the bar, through a doorway marked ‘Private – Savage Dog’ and into a passage. A dog started barking and, to my ears, it sounded like a big one. I am never afraid of people, but dogs, whilst normally ok, those referred to as ‘savage’ make me a trifle nervous. She turned and smiled. “It’s a recording. Effective, apparently.” I wasn’t surprised.
Through a second door and into a courtyard, in one corner of which stood a large mobile home, maybe twenty feet long.
“If you come in, I’m going to fuck you.”
“Well,” I said, “Thank Christ for that.”
She unlocked the door and guided me up the single step and into the light, airy interior. A bed, not massive but definitely big enough was in one corner. There was a table with a couple of bottles and glasses. She put her rucksack on the table and threw her now discarded jacket onto a chair.
“Whiskey or brandy?”
I opted for brandy. She poured a glass and came close. Putting her arm across my shoulders she turned me, so my back was to her and held the glass to my lips. As I sipped, she licked my ear. I felt her hand on my back, then curl around me to cup my left breast. My nipples, no bra, were hard and she rolled it between her fingers as she kissed my neck. I tried to turn but she stopped me. “Vee’s rules, Carla.” She bit my neck gently.
Her hand left my breast and moved slowly southward, lifting the hem of my skirt and roaming over my thighs. Eventually, after what seemed far too long, she cupped my cunt through my soft, almost nothing silk knickers and her finger traced moist lips through the fabric.
"My, my, someone’s been waiting too long.” Now she turned me, and her mouth, open, covered mine and her tongue insinuated itself into me. I played with it with my own tongue and, deciding it was my turn, I ran my hands down her back to her arse and, leaving one there, the right hand moved to the front of her trousers and started to unbuckle her belt. She gently removed my hand from her belt and lifted it to her breast, our kiss deepening then she leant back, pulling my lower lip with her teeth.
Looking straight into my eyes, she released my lip and said, “Get naked.” She didn’t move, but stood, her hands on my shoulders as I undressed, opening my blouse, showing her my bare breasts and she slipped the blouse off me and put her hands back on my shoulders. “Skirt. Don’t keep me waiting.” I took my time though. I wanted her a bit riled up. I pretended to fumble with the zip and slowly let the skirt fall to pool at my feet and she kissed me, smiling. “Don’t play games with me, Carla, you might get bitten.”