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First Light
by Emily Duncan

Eight

Jake was almost ready to tear her own hair out by the clump as she followed Nia's instructions and rapped smartly on the window - not the door - of a small ground floor flat two hours later. She'd already walked around the block twice, puffing and blowing against the cold Manchester air, scuffing her feet amongst the litter and remnants of the previous night's revelries, for fear of turning up early and appearing too keen. The tall, inscrutable butch took great pleasure in the ease with which she merged with the rain and the grey, dreary landscape, finding in its desolation a safe haven that allowed her to wander amongst the jostling crowds unnoticed. Even with her head down the imposing figure of the half-woman, half boy, commanding in her ambiguity, did not fail to attract the attention of some passers-by - but Jake merely slunk back into the shadows, waiting for the strange gazes to fade away. Afraid of being scorched by the light that tantalised her with its brilliance, the proud, sensitive brunette had yet to become acquainted with the rainbow inside her own heart.

There was a battle raging in her head - prompted by the nagging feeling that she was, in fact, nervous.

Come on, Jake...this is absurd. She thought.

You've dated plenty of women before - and some of them were sophisticated on a scale that Nia couldn't even aspire to.

A bold and slightly impudent statement - but it couldn't be dismissed as the product of an over-active ego. Although she was well aware of the extent of her own appeal, and could even be accused at times of believing that her charm was infallible, Jake refused to labour under the delusion that she was always the centre of attention.

However, there had been a stage of her life during which she'd enjoyed such a status.

After Tara, when darkness had wrapped tightly like a mantle around her heart and soul, the tormented butch began a period of almost frenetic promiscuity in a drive to rebuild her shattered sense of self. Contrary to her hopes, the multitude of sexual partners she managed to attract left her feeling more empty than ever - but the experience did a great deal to cement the masculine identity that was becoming as prominent as her dark hair and keen blue eyes. As her limitless supply of cocaine bought her entry into Manchester's burgeoning high society set, the young Jake realised that there existed legions of women who didn't make the usual assumption that she was some sort of oddity, but appeared to adore her traditionally manly qualities. For a long time she was caught up in a barrage of superficial attentions, her trampled self-esteem gobbling up the boost it was granted by each actress, model, city chick and "It" girl thrown at her feet. All making promises they wouldn't be able to keep, some even going so far as to proclaim that they loved her - but luckily the dark heart was too firmly shuttered by this time for Jake to even consider believing them. She simply worked out what she could grasp from her happy situation, attempting to throw some light on herself via the radiance she assumed would go hand in hand with the loveliness on her arm. It worked, when her paramours were truly dazzling - their beauty emanating from the inside as well as out - but others were no more than exquisite, empty shells, hollowed out by years of privilege and adoration. For months the damaged, misguided young butch deceived herself that it would increase her value as a person if she had an attractive woman at her side. What she didn't realise was that she possessed a light of her own - which could only grow brighter when kindled by a flame that was not just skin deep.

Knocking on the window a second time, Jake allowed herself a wry smile, as some of her more satisfying memories began to flood her consciousness.

Remember that politician's wife in Capetown? You took her out to a cocktail party while her husband bought 6 kilos of blow, and he didn't even seem to care that you fucked her in his car...or that you'd done a better job of it than he could. You were completely undaunted then.

And now you're scared of a sweet little Bar Manager who's not going to eat you alive...probably couldn't, even if she tried. She doesn't want to seduce you with her feminine charms because you're the butch fantasy she requires for a night or two, or the bad boy she can play with behind the millionaire's back. She's genuine and you know it. She wants nothing but to know you...for who you are, not who she wants you to be.

Jake leaned her tousled dark head against the windowpane.

Or is that what scares you the most? Not used to spending time with real people, are you, Jake?

Perhaps you might have to grow up.

Perhaps you're already considering a relationship based on friendship and honesty...instead of a quick fuck with the most beautiful woman in the room.

The brunette's uneasiness was intensified by her knowledge that in having the courage to stand up to her earlier that day, regardless of her possible connections, Nia had displayed a will that matched - nay, surpassed - her own. The small Bar Manager had been David to Jake's Goliath - and had played her part with equanimity. For someone who was usually so adept at convincing people to yield by the force of her own personal magnetism, this was a frightening prospect.

I never guessed that such a sweet little girl could be a woman of steel...but she was more than a match for me.

Jake sighed again, and realising that the sweet little Bar Manager in question wasn't rushing to answer her knock, tried once more with a sharp rap at the window.

Strange...

Squeezing behind a very inconvenient bush, the butch poked her dark head a little closer to the window of what she supposed was the sitting room. Nose pressed up against the glass, she was shocked to see Nia crouching on a low couch, with her head in her hands.

Shit...she looks really upset. She thought.

Again.

I hope she hasn't had a visit from Matt.

He promised to leave her to me. What's he playing at?

She was just starting to trust me. She probably won't open the door to me now.

What the hell have they done to her?

She kicked the edge of the nearby front step in reflex, cursing at her own aggravation but unable to control the lurching in her stomach.

"Jake, are you OK?"

Came a gentle voice from the front door, which was now standing wide open, a worried-looking Nia filling its frame.

"Nia!"

For once, the haughtiest butch in Manchester forgot to "play it cool", as she grasped the small blonde's arm and looked searchingly into deep green eyes.

"More to the point, are you?" She asked.

The puzzlement that furrowed the pale brow in front of her did nothing to lessen Jake's panic, as she elaborated nineteen to the dozen...without letting go of her companion's arm.

"I guessed someone might have paid you a visit. Are you all right?"

Misunderstanding now turned to shock and surprise, as Nia replied sharply, "What kind of visit?"

Oops.

Seeing her mistake in opening her mouth to speak before she knew what she was dealing with, the dark woman tried desperately to dissemble.

"Um...I don't know...but I saw you in the front room, shaking, with your head in your hands. I was worried."

Perhaps I jumped to the wrong conclusion.

Better say something, quick...before she gets even more suspicious...

But when she guiltily raised her head to meet the blonde's eyes, she was surprised to see that perhaps she needn't turn on her heel just yet. Nia's face had relaxed into a benevolent smile, and her eyes were twinkling.

Maybe she was touched by Jake's distress - or tired of the intrigue - but luckily for the backtracking butch, Nia had obviously decided to let this one go. A small chuckle bubbled up from her throat in reaction to her visitor's continued discomposure, as she patted her date on the arm.

"I'm fine. It isn't how it looks. Come on in."

She grinned cheerfully at the dark woman, who followed her through the small hall without a word.

"Welcome!"

Announced the blonde, throwing open the door to her apartment and releasing the aroma of fruit-scented candles into the hall as she did so. Jake stepped inside a little awkwardly, ducking her head to avoid banging it on the doorframe, and took a good look about, with interested eyes.

Nia's apartment was warm, and appeared as comfortable and hospitable as its owner. Freestanding furniture in a wide variety of natural woods was much in evidence, as were framed modern art prints by the usual suspects - Picasso, Klee, and Matisse. The choices were not too imaginative, but pleasant to look at nonetheless. Still more pleasant was the sight of all kinds of plants - hostas, ferns, and even a Scarborough lily. Jake also observed the absence of ornaments and bric-a-brac - it was clear that Nia was not fond of clutter. The décor was not expensive but displayed an irreproachable taste and not a small amount of skill, the butch noted, as she saw that the hardwood floors had obviously been sanded and polished by hand before being softened by a couple of rugs in cheerful colours. A futon took centre stage, littered with throws and large cushions, and a couple of small, beige leather pouffes sat nearby, obviously designed to prop up feet. Stainless steel lamps with large, cream shades threw soft lights on the scene, and standing in a corner was a small TV set, housing an image Jake swore would give her nightmares for weeks afterwards.

She baulked unconsciously and heard Nia snort in amusement.

"I know - awful, isn't it? When you spotted me I'd just about lost control of myself. I was laughing so much it was starting to hurt. I had to put my head between my knees to calm down." She grinned.

The vision in question consisted of one of the UK's best known - and most obnoxious - pop exports, strutting around on the raised set of a music show. His trousers were hanging around his ankles, revealing a pair of snug black briefs that left little to the imagination...and to add insult to injury, sported a pink Playboy insignia.

Jake, wisely deciding that it was not appropriate to relate her various liaisons with legitimate Playboy centrefolds, rolled her eyes in reply.

"Some people should be shot at birth."

Nia snorted again. "Well, if there's ever an argument for the fact that some people should certainly not be inflicted on an audience, he could be wheeled out to justify it. Look at the state of him!"

"I agree." Smirked the butch.

"He would be exhibit A - followed by that lot." She motioned to the television, where an extremely motley crew had taken over and started their latest number.

"Take one inane lyric, four complete morons wearing clothes even stupider than themselves, a badly operated drum machine, and you've got yourself a hit dance band these days."

"Na na na na na na na na..." Warbled the band tunelessly, helpfully reinforcing Jake's point.

Nia nodded enthusiastically.

"I know. They're certainly an insult to the public's intelligence." She directed a baleful stare towards the television, almost convulsing Jake on the spot.

"I can't believe that guy was prancing around in his underpants." Nia said. "I'd be willing to bet that they haven't brought the watershed forward in his honour. Children watch this programme - it's not right."

"Well, look at it this way. At least all those little girls will now grow up to be lesbians." Retorted Jake, sending Nia into a fit of the giggles.

The blonde's laughter was infectious, and her dark companion found herself chuckling in reply. They ended up laughing until tears ran down their cheeks, and the performance was long finished.

"Wow...that felt good. I haven't had this much fun watching television in ages." Sighed Jake, clearing her throat and wiping her eyes, as a companionable calm descended.

"Oh! I'm sorry."

After the hilarity, Nia's manners suddenly returned to their rightful place. "Won't you sit down? Or do you want to get going straight away? Can I get you a drink or something? Please, make yourself at home."

"Um..."

As she debated what to say to such a cordially given invitation and how to explain the evening's predicament, Kim's advice came rushing back into Jake's head.

"I don't think you realise that having those elaborately built defences doesn't turn you into you a mysterious, romantic hero - it makes you downright frustrating. So whatever you do, please don't try and cultivate them. You can stride about with your elbows out and your nose in the air and say you're independent. I don't agree."

And along with this timely prompt came the realisation that although the sun had gone down on her heart all those years ago, a gentle but persistent warmth was poking its way through the cracks, making her hungry for more, and desperate to do the right thing lest the benignant presence vanish.

"I think we'd better get going. In fact, there's something I have to do tonight, I'm afraid, and I was going to ask you to do me a favour and come along. But please don't think that means I wouldn't rather be alone with you."

Amazing...

Was Nia's sole thought as Jake helped her on with her jacket, waited for her to lock the door to her tiny home, and gave her a hand into the taxi that had pulled up outside.

She's being so considerate. Fancy making sure that I was OK about going to her friend's party! She spoke as though she actually cared what I might think - I got the feeling she wasn't just being polite.

I really wasn't expecting someone who's obviously led such a dissolute existence, pleasing only herself for the most part, I shouldn't wonder, to be such a...gentleman.

The blonde smiled at the object of her musings, pulling her seatbelt taut and clipping it into place.

"You know, I'm surprised to be sitting in a cab," she began impishly, earning herself nothing but a raised eyebrow for her trouble.

"Somehow I imagined that you'd probably ride a great big Harley with mud and blood splattered up the sides."

The dig was roguish but good-natured - a growing fascination concerning her evening's date producing the mischievous desire for a bit of play.

Now we'll find out just how seriously this big bad butch is going to take herself.

The bar manager was astounded again, when instead of a bunch of bravado her companion merely gave her an amiable grin.

"I do own a motorbike, yes." Was the genial rejoinder.

"But I think it's irresponsible to drink and drive, so I thought a taxi would probably be better for tonight's festivities. Champagne tends to flow at Al's parties, and it's impolite to refuse it, you know."

This last said with a wink telling that champagne was not Jake's beverage of choice, a disclosure that didn't startle Nia in the slightest.

Well, I could hardly see her housing a dainty champagne flute in those magnificent paws. But a wild thing with a sensible streak who's able to take a joke! Oh, I think the evening is going to go very well indeed.

Young though she might be, the manager of Fire and Ice was not stupid. She'd been aware almost from the first second they met that she was in grave danger of being bowled over by her new acquaintance, but she was not in ignorance...or denial...about the woman's connections. Anyone who'd lived the life the small blonde had been thrust into, winding up in the position in which she was currently trapped, quickly learned that they could not afford to be naïve. One look at Jake had told her the butch had enough skeletons in her closet to staff the bar at Fire and Ice for a few nights running.

She'd known very well from Jake's behaviour at the front door that something very untoward was going on with her new friend.

And Nia had been left smarting one too many times in her brief experience by the bad boy with the chiselled cheekbones and winning smile.

But she'd decided, for the purposes of the evening's excursion at least, to try and forget her fears, to stamp down her tendency to suspicion, in order to get to know her new suitor better. She realised that the episode promised to be reminiscent of past mistakes - but her nature was not to be coarsened by cynicism, and she was determined that old hurts should make her savvy and prudent rather than feeding her qualms. Because much as her good sense told her she might be asking for trouble, Nia desperately wanted to know this baffling butch who seemed to embody such a spellbinding combination of raw power and vulnerability.

If she was honest with herself, it was the vulnerability that drew her, despite her penchant for intense and vigorous boys. She'd quickly intuited that Jake's appearance of total self-sufficiency was a cleverly drawn veneer, and had been studying the shuttered features ever since, trying to delve beneath their opacity. A couple of times her keen gaze had shown her that the dark woman's piercing midnight blue eyes were striving to hide an unadulterated truth. In unguarded moments, Jake wore the hungry look of one whose emotional solitude had been imposed by a pain almost too great to bear.

Nia did not know very much in the grand scheme of things - but she had an instinctive ability to read the human heart, and had already sensed Jake's tender sorrow as though it were her own. Wisely, though, she opted to remain silent until closer contact and trust prompted her mysterious new friend to speak. She just hoped it would not be too long in coming - as she was aware that there would need to be openness on both sides, if the budding relationship between the two women was going to stand a chance.

So even in the first blush of friendship, she found herself hoping against hope that the brunette would eventually muster some strength - an ability to connect with the remnants of those intense emotions and passions that had not quite successfully been retracted under a chilly heart. She didn't romanticise the hurt - having learned early that this would cause it to linger well beyond its lifespan - but nevertheless, she was astute enough to be willing to wait, and to hope that natural human empathy would win the day before long.

And after all, Nia had a talent for uncovering the troubles of others. Without even trying, the gentle little blonde normally found hearts opening to her as naturally as flowers open to receive the sun. It was a rare person who could remain silent when confronted with those sympathetic green eyes, the soft touch of her hand and the encouraging murmur of her soothing voice.

She smiled shyly at the tall, dark butch occupying the seat next to her, but felt no urge to break the convivial silence as her reflections turned away from her new friend, and towards the drawbacks that were often part and parcel of her compassionate gifts.

Hmmm. If she doesn't want to share, then we might as well forget it. But if I do get her to open up, who's to say that she's not going to turn out like every one else? Perhaps that's my problem...I make it far too easy.

She sighed quietly, turning her golden head to stare through the window at grey skies and driving rain.

Nia had spent her life being a giver. Not living for others, exactly - she cherished plenty of hopes and ambitions of her own - but notwithstanding those, one of the greatest pleasures in her life was to help another human being. This propensity to nurture and aid was one of her most appealing qualities, but also one of the most hapless - leaving the door wide open to those who wished to take advantage of it, sometimes unknowingly and sometimes with forethought. In her darker moments Nia reflected that she couldn't remember being blest with a rapport, romantic or otherwise, that wasn't dependent on her taking responsibility for phone calls, arranging time together and time apart...and providing a sounding-board for gripes, expectations and fears. Which inequality of effort often left her with a sour taste in her mouth, and an underlying unhappiness that marred even the sweetest moments. It was ironic, really, because Nia was ludicrously easy to please - if you were to ask the thoughtful, sensitive girl for her heart's desire, she would not have said fame, love or money - all she wished for was the simplest gift of a few minutes of time and a listening ear. Unfortunately, Nia had discovered that she could give these valuable commodities to a greater degree than anyone else she knew.

But maybe I should give her the benefit of the doubt.

Perhaps she's the one who's going to have what I need. I can almost see it in her...if I look carefully.

It was certainly true to say that during the few moments they'd snatched in each other's company, Jake had shown her a quiet consideration unlike anything that had touched Nia's previous experience. And then there was the spontaneous burst of honesty in the bar, which had obviously cost the dark woman some emotional labour, and after which Nia imagined that Jake's heart had briefly been allowed to rule her head. With Nia, heart always won the battle - and she knew that her destiny would be someone who possessed enough self-control to temper these impetuous tendencies - but she also knew that her heart would be very lonely if attached to a lover who kept her feelings completely under lock and key.

Opposites attract, I know that...but I just hope she's not all that different from me inside. It's not too much to ask...is it?

"Just here, please." Drawled her companion, tapping on the grille with a keyring and rousing Nia from her contemplation.

The taxi turned the corner and drew up at a small bar, half-hidden in a cubbyhole behind Manchester's gay village. From the outside, Nia noticed that the light twinkling through the narrow windows had a decidedly red tint, and absent-mindedly wondered where on earth this bad boy intended to take her for their first date.

Looks like a brothel. Ah well...in for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose. I get the feeling it's going to be a night to remember.

So...enough! No more introspection. I'm determined to enjoy this...and give her a chance.

"Here it is!" Jake cheerfully announced, unfolding her long legs before alighting on the kerb and opening Nia's door.

Jake turned to her date as they entered the tiny establishment, directing her towards the bar over the din of the music with a slight indication of her raven head. The place was tatty but warm and full of life, and seemed to have created the light-hearted atmosphere that Nia had vainly tried to infuse into Fire and Ice.

Well, they probably don't have gangsters poking their heads around every corner, do they? I expect It's pretty easy to have fun in a place that's not constantly scared of its overlord.

However, on closer inspection she noticed that the selection of spirits left a lot to be desired, consisting mainly of cheap rip-offs of the name brands, which made her feel superior in the style of a true Bar Manager.

At least they can't compete with us for quality products. I don't know whether I can cope with drinking that shit. Although they obviously make up for it in volume, by the looks of the price list. I've never seen doubles and mixers sold at that price before. I suppose that makes up for the fact that most of the drinks probably taste like meths.

Jake slipped a hand under her elbow to nudge her forward, and she clamped down on her senses, catching her breath at the contact.

Looks as though I'm going to be exercising some self-control tonight, if she's not to think I'm a complete walkover. You can't take her to bed straight away after that little episode in the cellar, Nia...so behave yourself. You're going home alone.

"I promise we won't stay long." Said Jake.

"And if they start singing karaoke, we're leaving quick smart. Nobody needs to be subjected to that."

Nia answered with a grin, as she yelled over the growing hubbub on the dancefloor,

"Well, the music's not bad so far! Let's hope it stays that way."

The DJ had started spinning one of her favourites, a chirpy, boppy house number that made her feet tap and her body want to move.

Involuntarily, she bestowed a sunny smile on the short, curt barman who appeared to take their order, simultaneously taking note of the thick, angry scar that bisected his face.

Hmmmm. He looks like he's been done for a few. But I wonder if he can mix a drink?

"What would you like?" Asked Jake gently, turning to Nia and noticing with a stifled chuckle that she was practically dancing up to the collection of stools strewn around by the bar.

"I'd like a gin and tonic, please." Came the courageous reply, as Nia determined not to treat her friend's choice of bar with distaste.

And she was flabbergasted when the wizened old bartender actually produced a premium bottle from underneath the till, free-pouring a generous measure over plenty of ice, and rimming the glass with lime before topping it up with tonic water and sliding it across the surface towards her. She looked up at Jake, but her incredulous question was crushed by the merriment dancing in her companion's eyes, betokening that the butch had been expecting her date to receive such treatment.

Again, Nia bit her tongue and smiled.

Some things it's better not to know, I suppose...she thought, amused in spite of herself, as she watched Jake order a beer...with a wink to the server.

Well, bottled beer's a safe bet, that's for sure. I'm not sure what'd come out of the pumps if she asked for draught.

"Come with me." Burred her escort, having procured her beer and taken a long swig.

"I'll introduce you to my friends."

"Who is THAT!?"

Were the first words to escape Nia's lips as they approached the large table around which Jake's friends had ensconced themselves, upon camp, gilt-edged, emerald green velvet chairs.

Kim was standing near the edge of the group, which was peopled with guests who seemed pretty obnoxious to Nia's fresh eyes - Jake recognised them as being the usual suspects, rowdy colleagues of Al's. The chestnut-haired femme wore a floor-length black dress embroidered with bold flowers close to the hem, that clung to her willowy form and tapered upwards to form a striking halter around her neck. With outsize gold hoops in her ears, she looked exotic and exciting - Nia felt at once that her own pale hair and eyes were unforgivably bland and insipid in comparison. Unaware of their presence, Kim was smiling and laughing with as much enthusiasm as she could muster at several absurd conversations, some obviously designed to impress her - and presented a vision that epitomised polished, exquisite elegance.

"That's my best friend, Kim." Said Jake, displaying her customary pride at being associated with such a gorgeous creature.

"Wow!" Nia exclaimed.

"She's beautiful."

"She is, isn't she?" Agreed the dark butch - a little too enthusiastically, she realised, seeing Nia's face fall. To make amends, she hastily added,

"Beauty comes with a price, you know. It can be a curse as much as it's a blessing."

Nia regarded her quizzically, as well she might, before responding, "What do you mean, comes with a price?"

"For a start, Kim never knows whether people genuinely like her or just want to get in her knickers." Jake said.

The blonde looked sceptical. "Well, I can see that would be a problem, but I wouldn't call it a curse. Is that as bad as it gets?"

"Well, she's also caused trouble for more than one couple and wound up feeling dreadful about it." Responded her date.

Nia's breath caught.

"It used to happen a great deal." Jake continued. "She'd take a casual fancy to someone, and they'd fall for her immediately, regardless of whether they were already attached or not. Then by the time she lost interest, a relationship she probably didn't even know about in the first place would be in the dustbin. So everybody ended up alone"

"But surely the person who is already committed is culpable, not Kim - she can't help it if people fall in love with her, and it's up to them to tell her they're taken."

Replied Nia, Jake's last statement stirring her instinct to defend any woman - even a criminally pretty one - from injustice.

Her new friend turned to regard her with a warm smile.

"You're right." Was the reply.

"Kim would be touched to hear you say that. But she's such a tender-hearted girl and she hates hurting people. She feels a lot of guilt when her arrival causes someone's cherished partner to become second best, especially when there was never any serious interest on her part."

"I see."

"What Kimmy's only just beginning to realise is that her beauty confers an awful lot of power and responsibility, and she needs to be careful how she uses it, to avoid pain for other people and for herself. You're right that she shouldn't be taking the blame for the weaknesses of others - but it's a rare person who has the strength to say no when confronted with a face like that."

"A rare person...or someone who's genuinely in love." Finished Nia, quietly.

"Yes, exactly."

"But what can she do about it?" The blonde remained puzzled.

"Well, she's learned that if she wants someone she'd better be really certain about them, because they're likely to offer themselves on a plate if she as much as clicks her fingers. She's very careful now about who she flirts with. And she's unusual in that."

"Wow." Said Nia. "I never really thought of it that way before. I suppose I can see your point."

The Bar Manager looked at Jake's beautiful young friend through new eyes for a brief moment, envy warring with sympathy - until, with a whimper, sympathy lost the battle.

"But isn't that just the way of the world?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, aren't some people naturally shallow? I've seen it happen - boy meets girl, they fall in love, but one or the other gets dropped when someone "better" comes along - someone who's richer, more intelligent, more beautiful - and must be recognised by society as a whole as being so. For instance, someone like Kim."

"That's a pretty shocking way to treat someone."

"Well, I think it's callous and foolhardy, but some folks seem to like to keep their options open."

"Not everyone, Nia." Whispered Jake, softly. And as their eyes met this half-promise was filed away by both.

In an attempt to break the tension, the dark woman continued a little more light-heartedly, "I was never attracted to Kim. You can ask her yourself - she'll back me up on that one without hesitation."

"Why weren't you?" Was the obvious question.

"Her beauty is a little too symmetrical for me, you know? I find it...boring, to be blunt. The faces I find most attractive are challenging in their beauty - they make me sit up and take notice, and use my imagination - like yours."

It was an innocent statement, not made in order to give a compliment - in fact, there was no thought of its probable impact. But it was the most wonderful thing the dark butch could have said, in Nia's opinion.

She made no response, but resolved to put her resentful feelings aside, and contented herself with a squeeze on her date's arm, as both women noticed that the subject of their discussion had spotted them, and was making her way over.

Nia's jealous streak was a well-known fact amongst her close friends, but a well-hidden aspect of her public demeanour. She despised the quality in herself, considering it to be pusillanimous and even vulgar, but her efforts to conquer it had so far borne little fruit. More than one instance in which she'd lost the game to someone she considered to be a superior player had caused the weakness to grow strong - and by her twenty-sixth year, envy was probably the single negative emotion that Nia had really allowed to colour her life. And she'd found few who were responsive enough to anticipate her occasional feelings of comparative worthlessness with a couple of well-chosen words.

But she did it. Totally unconsciously, and without guile.

Amazing.

"You must be Nia."

The blonde turned in the direction of a lively, musical greeting, and found herself face to face with what she had to admit was one of the loveliest visions she'd ever seen.

Normally I'd have been wishing I was her by now...was her grateful thought, as the beautiful brunette kissed her on both cheeks.

"It's so great to meet you." Said Kim, warmly. "I hope you didn't mind coming. The onus should fall on my housemate, really - it's her birthday. Jake had no say in the matter."

Nia smiled at the friendly overture, and was about to reply with equal cordiality when another voice broke into the conversation.

" 'Bout time you turned up!"

"Here we go." Whispered Jake conspiratorially. "This is Al - it's her birthday. She's a great girl, but she can be a little much. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Not bad...thought the bar manager. Al was a heavyset butch with a soft appearance - dark hair flopping over her eyes, and a tasteful outfit consisting of a loose-fitting linen shirt and trousers.

"Happy birthday." The blonde offered, extending her hand as the newcomer approached.

"Thanks!" Al replied, cheerfully bowling up beside her. "Are you having a good time?" She asked, looking Nia up and down.

"Great. This is an interesting place."

Nia had the distinct impression that Al was leering at her, and trying not to let it make her feel uncomfortable, she decided to do what she did best - to get the butch to talk, instead of staring.

"So, Al...why don't you tell me about yourself?"

This was the prompt that Al, completely unashamed, had been waiting for. Within five minutes Nia was wishing she'd asked about the weather, as her new acquaintance proceeded to chew her ear off with royal enthusiasm, while the hapless bar manager strained her patience trying to listen, and her ears attempting to eavesdrop on Kim's conversation with Jake.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier, Jake. I had no right to interfere and tell you how to run your life. But it's only because I care."

"Oh Kim." Jake slung her free arm around her friend's shoulders. "I told you before you don't need to say sorry. I needed to hear those things you said. In fact, I should be thanking you." She admitted.

Kim's face lit up. "It's going well so far?" She asked, excitedly.

"Wonderful." Confessed the butch. "Kim, she's so sweet - I can't even begin to tell you."

"I can see it for myself." Whispered her friend. "I like her very much."

The blue eyes sparkled with pride, before clouding over momentarily.

"I seem to be doing everything right so far. I just hope I can keep it up." Jake confided, haltingly.

Kim's sweet face took on a hint of seriousness as she regarded the couple standing before her. Although engaged in separate conversations, the two women were already clearly together - each body angled towards the other, and Nia's fingers lightly entwined in the leather of Jake's jacket. They looked wonderful. And right - in a way that she and Jake, despite their combination of stunning good looks, never had.

"Oh, you will keep it up." She murmured, in response. "It looks as though it's coming naturally."

Her reward was a look of gratitude and affection that warmed her heart and made her glad to have spoken up about her earlier misgivings. But before their confab could go any further, Al dug Jake in the ribs and began to issue instructions in none too dulcet tones.

"Drink up. Nobody wants to be sober when we start the karaoke. Jake - you'd better get up and sing with me. I've already put our names down for Bat Out of Hell."

"Not on your nelly." Retorted Nia's date, softening the verbal blow with a punch to Al's arm.

Undeterred, the small butch leaned forward and began to enunciate in a dramatic stage whisper.

"See that woman over there?"

Nia, Jake and Kim all whirled around to see a mini-skirted redhead staring over at the group.

"She's been giving me the eye for a while." Al continued. "I think she's gonna make a play. And that other one next to her - she tried it on last week, but I wasn't interested. She's developing a bit of an obsession, now - she won't leave me alone, even for five minutes. These women are so persistent! I might have to draft you in to fend them off."

And with this last threat directed at Jake, off she went - in a waft of cigarette smoke and Calvin Klein.

"Sorry about her." Said Jake, with a sigh. "As you can probably see, modesty isn't one of her virtues. I'm surprised she even manages to have fun when she goes out - she's so preoccupied with who's looking at her."

Nia snorted in reply, as Kim rolled her eyes and took up the report.

"And then, when she gets home, she analyses every little flirtation to death. It drives me crazy. She likes to think of herself as a bit of a stud, surrounded by women who can't help falling at her feet. I swear she thinks she's a character in a book. You know, the tall, dark handsome one, that everyone's in love with."

Nia raised one eyebrow, biting down with great tact on the riposte that rose to her lips, a struggle that was not lost on the other two, judging from their grins of delight.

"She has a good imagination, at least." Jake supplied, as all three shook with suppressed laughter, and the music began to slow. Pretty soon the change in tempo appeared to remind Kim that three was a crowd, and she looked about the bar, obviously in search of an excuse to extricate herself.

"I should go and speak to my beloved housemate, really - before she embarrasses herself." She said, abruptly. "I'll see you in a minute or two."

She glided off without another word, but not without sacrificing a few moments to telegraph to Jake, behind Nia's back, what would be an appropriate course of action. And after a short fight with her unease, the butch mustered all her courage and very hard not to feel awkward, as she followed her friend's excellent advice.

"Nia, would you like to dance?"

Upon receipt of a surprised nod and a shy smile, she took her date lightly by the hand and led her to the dancefloor.

It seemed dreadfully quiet as the blonde and the brunette began to reacquaint themselves with one another's bodies - touching in a tentative manner not at all reminiscent of the hurried fumbling that had gone on in the cellar at Fire and Ice.

Jake held Nia very close, one arm tight around the blonde's back. And with the other large hand she held Nia's small one to her chest - over her heart.

From her perch at the other end of the bar, Kim watched the two with an indescribable expression.

"They've got it bad." She said to no one in particular, congratulating herself on her success.

The blonde was a petite woman, but not short - about five feet and six inches - and Jake's magnificent six feet allowed her to rest her head comfortably on a broad shoulder as they moved slowly against one another, oblivious to the curious stares of the other patrons. There were no grand gestures or dramatic dance moves, and no conversation - just two people clinging to each other in the darkness of a small bar, in the middle of a very rowdy party.

And as she closed her eyes, Nia couldn't help feeling that unlikely as it might seem, perhaps here was a place she could finally come to rest. They might well belong to a gangster, a drug lord, or an extortionist - but these arms felt tranquil and safe, as far as she was concerned.

Nine

Partygoers prowling the streets of Manchester's gay village that night, looking for some cheap amusement, might have found it in the snippet of by-play that took place in a dimly lit alley nearby. But the only audience available in those shadowy reaches was a scruffy urban cat, watching with curiosity and disdain as a tall, striking woman with a raven crop emerged in rather a hurry from around the corner, a petite, prettyish blonde following closely on her heels. After a few harried looks behind them, seemingly to check for pursuers, both sidled up to the main road to join the chattering flow of after-dark pedestrians.

"Wow…that's one way to get out of a party!" Hissed the smaller woman breathlessly, as they slowed to a more unobtrusive pace.

Her companion gave her a sheepish nod.

"I know. I hope you didn't mind leaving…but I hate it when Al and her friends start getting inebriated. It's never pretty. And once Kim left, I didn't really see any point in us staying."

"Well, I can understand that…but why the Bond-esque exit?"

Jake laughed easily, shifting her gaze over the top of Nia's head to settle on the steady stream of passers-by. "I didn't really want to deal with Al begging me to stay - this way, I'm pretty sure she was too far gone to notice us leave, and tomorrow I can tell her we were there 'till the end."

"You naughty boy. I admire your cunning, although I'll warn you that trying to deceive your friends might land you in hot water." Responded Nia, with a wink.

In fact, the blonde had been secretly relieved when Jake had grabbed her by the hand with the terse statement, "We're leaving." Although she was a little puzzled by the abruptness of the cut-and-run, she found it far preferable to the outcome she was fearing - that Jake would get into her stride, and become inclined to socialise. She'd been pleasantly impressed by Kim, finding her infinitely more sincere than others with her natural advantages, but had quickly decided that Al and her friends were…well, frankly…quite obnoxious. As the champagne - and cocaine - began to flow freely, the short spells of time she'd spent away from Jake had turned into a quest to find anyone who was capable of stringing two sensible words together.

Fighting through the crowds who were queuing to get in to one of Manchester's seedier queer nightspots, the pair stepped out to cross a road still teeming with traffic, although rush hour had long passed. As they did so, Nia found her hand being gently taken and wound around a strong, leather clad arm - a tender, protective gesture that she found as startling as it was charming.

"Thanks for coming with me." Said Jake softly, as they reached the other side.

"You're welcome." Replied the blonde. "Thanks for taking me."

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

Nia stifled a sigh. She'd been half-dreading this question.

"I had a great time." She said, mustering up a good deal more enthusiasm than she actually felt and hoping desperately that it was convincing, for it suddenly struck her that her new friend was looking surprisingly earnest.

Well…it's not a total lie. She thought.

I wanted to spend some time with her, and I did. To give her credit, she didn't leave my side all night. And despite her scandalous good looks, I enjoyed meeting Kim, too.

And I certainly didn't expect her to ask me to dance…let alone hold me so close in front of all those people. In fact, I was half anticipating she'd be dancing with other women all night, to make sure I knew my place in the pecking order. Women like her usually like you to be aware of the fact that they've bedded every girl in the room.

A frown graced the pale brow, as Nia brought to mind the partner who had played those vicious games to hurt her. And as the recollection eliminated her cosier sentiments, her thoughts of the woman who was walking the kerb, putting herself between Nia and the oncoming traffic, began to cool.

But if she's planning to take me to many of those gatherings, I can't see this little relationship lasting too long. Honestly - I'd rather spend the evening with those bloody gangsters than with the lot I was subjected to tonight.

I dunno.

Drink, drugs and superficial people…It's probably been the story of her life. Why would she give it up now?

Had she known that her character was being sketched so unceremoniously without any request for clarification or input from her, Jake would probably have clammed up tight without further ado. Judgement without discussion was particularly abhorrent to someone who tended to keep her more endearing qualities…or as she would call them, weaknesses…far too close to her chest.

As it was, in blissful ignorance of Nia's pronouncements on her ability to wean herself from a lifestyle of delinquency, she failed to prickle. Instead, she paused under a bright street lamp to give her date a grateful look.

"Listen, Nia…you're being very polite, but I know this probably wouldn't have been your evening of choice. I was glad you got a chance to say hi to Kim, but the rest of those guys are a waste of space on a good day, and plain embarrassing on nights like tonight."

Noticing that the blonde was looking at her a little strangely, she went on, "I just want to say thanks for being such a good sport. I won't ever put you through that again, if I can help it."

Still unaware that her statements were causing her small friend to shamefacedly revise a hasty verdict, she finished,

"And thanks for sticking up for me in the Ladies' room, too. You really didn't have to do that, you know."

At this, Nia's face assumed a look of quiet compassion that the self-sufficient butch would normally have found patronising in the extreme. But, bewildered, she instead found herself wrestling with a delicate warmth that began to spread in response to the empathy that seemed too frank to give offence.

"I know." Replied the blonde, giving Jake's arm an almost imperceptible, feather-light squeeze.

"And I probably shouldn't have gotten involved. But I couldn't just stand there while she abused you like that."

"She was pretty poisonous, I suppose. I've seen worse, though."

Jake attempted to shrug off the daintily offered affection and appear blasé about the episode. But her efforts did not entirely manage to mask the starved look that crept upon her shuttered features and spoke to Nia's heart…and her sense of apt and inappropriate moments…in a way that thousands of words could not.

The blonde's beautiful, candid green eyes glistened as she hesitated for a second or two…before making the effort to grin and crack one of the jokes that Jake was beginning to realise were as functional as they were amusing.

"To say the least! If you'd found a scorpion behind the cistern I dare say we'd have encountered less venom."

Laughter ensued to disperse the rising discomfort, causing more than one person to turn and stare at the two figures, day and night in harmonious disparity, as they covered the pavement with the same confident stride and remembered standing side by side to face this first minor battle.

Briefly separated from her date, Nia had decided to visit the bathroom…mainly to check whether or not the warm, smoky atmosphere was making her look as hot and sweaty as she felt. The WC's had obviously been furnished by the same hand as the bar's camp interior - with velvet-covered walls and a leopard-print chair strategically placed for the first in the queue.

Luckily, there was no queue in evidence - most of the punters being well-oiled by that point, enough to try their luck on the dancefloor - so Nia took a quick look in the mirror and prepared to head back out.

But she was pulled up short by a shrill, censorious voice.

"Excuse me, young man - I believe you'll find these facilities are for ladies."

Nia whirled around just in time to see Jake emerge from one of the cubicles, straight into the warpath of the middle-aged woman who'd been the only other occupant of the bathroom when she came in. Lost for words, the butch teetered at the door, and Nia was astonished to see that a person she'd assumed would be afraid of nothing was on the verge of diving down the toilet in a bid to escape.

Automatically, the blonde spoke up.

"Yes, it is the Ladies'. And I don't see any men in here - do you, Jake?"

At Nia's reference to the brunette, their antagonist shot several rapid glances from one woman to the other - but made no reply. Jake remained where she stood, stoically silent and obviously still shocked - but the slight lift of her powerful chin showed that her courage was fast returning, fortified by Nia's intervention.

"Perhaps you ought to look a little more closely before making judgements about whether a person belongs here or not." Suggested the blonde, gently but firmly, unaware of the amazement and increasing respect she was inspiring in her dark friend.

Their adversary said no more, but departed in a hurry, her high dudgeon resumed to hide her embarrassment - leaving Nia feeling relieved that the fight had been brief, but wondering whether she'd done the right thing.

Shit. Anyone can tell that she's terribly proud…she's probably furious that I stepped in.

I think you might have trodden on some toes here, Nia.

You're such an idiot.

But Jake, still quiet, had taken her hand and kissed it, astounding her with the small gallantry before leading the way back to the bar and fetching her a drink. The scene was not mentioned, but Nia was satisfied that her interference had been forgiven.

In fact, the blonde's impetuosity had for once been well placed. Caught out on her own, Jake probably wouldn't have even bothered to argue, knowing that it was more likely to lead to her own untimely eviction from the party, than to any intellectual victory. But Nia, with her appearance approximating that of a "normal" girl - and a nice, innocent one at that - was much more likely to be able to stage an effective face-off against the voices of intolerance and prejudice.

And the dark woman had been touched beyond words that Nia had used…even risked…this greater acceptability in her defence. She'd known women to be explicitly attracted to her masculinity before, and even some who were prepared to own it in public - but none who'd stuck their neck out to protect it, allying themselves with her regardless of the consequences. Even the strongest advocates had so far had proven to be fair-weather friends.

But it seemed that Nia was different - more loyal, or perhaps just gutsier than other women she'd come across. Her attraction to the butch seemed to spur her to action, rather than being a flattering but temporary fascination that would abate as soon as there was a sniff of danger or disapproval.

The episode put Jake in a good mood for the rest of the evening. It wasn't as though she'd been in mortal danger - but that wasn't the point. The support itself was wonderful - and extraordinary - and the feeling of being precious enough to warrant such a rescue was brand new to her experience.

However, while pacing Manchester's bustling streets Jake had been forgetting her gratitude, as the bright night-lights animated her humiliation at being so efficiently "looked after". Fragments of vanity also arose, arrogant but ignominious, to swell her bravado.

"I'm used to being thrown out of public loos, though." She said, rather brusquely. "Once an old woman even started beating me around the head and shoulders with her handbag, yelling for the police - it wasn't pretty."

But the combination of amusement and distress that crossed Nia's face at this comment made the butch feel cruel, and unable to stay miffed, she finished a little more gently.

"It didn't hurt, don't worry. The only thing that suffered was my pride. Thanks for sticking up for me, really. Nobody's ever done that before."

"It was nothing."

"No, it wasn't." Jake managed, in response to the blonde's uncharacteristic shrug.

"As you can probably tell, most people think I'm odd - you don't, and you were perfectly willing to say so and damn the consequences. That's pretty unusual." Said the butch, a little shyly.

And as they walked the rest of the way to the taxi rank, both mulling over the little exchange, Nia made up her mind that if this woman ever needed a champion, she was going to be it.

A pensive silence fell as the two women waited for a cab, sheltering from the rain in a litter-strewn recess just behind the main road. Millions of stars were pricking holes in the night sky, and both lost themselves in its vastness - and in their own thoughts.

Partly to lighten the mood, and partly to take her mind off the miasma of lager and vomit that permeated their surroundings, Nia cleared her throat and spoke.

"I've never been beaten with a handbag in a public toilet, but I've been thrown out of a gay bar, if it's any consolation to you." She said, trying to seem offhand.

"Why on earth…?" Her companion sounded suitably shocked.

"Because of the way I look."

Jake's eyebrows almost disappeared under her thick dark hair.

"Your appearance doesn't make you any friends in the straight world, but mine earns me a lot of distrust outside it." Nia explained. "Apparently I'm not a 'real' lesbian, in some peoples' eyes."

The butch continued to look puzzled, as Nia continued.

"Remember when you came out, Jake? When you had to pluck up your courage and defend your sexuality against people who found it shocking?"

The dark woman nodded.

"Well, I have to do that every single day." Nia finished, a little bitterly.

She forced a valiant grin, trying not to hold her breath as she waited for Jake's reaction.

If she pats me on the head, and smiles, and tells me she's sure people don't mean anything by it, I think I might cry.

Or scream.

Too many of the dykes Nia met refused to take her seriously. Some viewed her with patronising indulgence, convinced she was just "going through a phase", but charmed enough by her blonde hair and good nature to tolerate it. Others despised her femininity while it appealed to them, treating her as an insignificant or even reviled species, resentful of the power she wielded over their physical desires and unwilling to admit that someone like her could light the fire in their loins. Her resemblance to "normal" heterosexual womanhood was too threatening to their sense of self - it made them feel as though they were endorsing a world that they normally related to with mutual abhorrence. Most of the gay community walked by the frustrated blonde without a second glance, not realising she was family - and the other tiny percentage recognised but refused to acknowledge her presence. Yet in the straight world the attractive, personable woman found it easy to make friends - which had the effect of making her feel as though she was telling a lie she could not control.

The femme and the butch shifted their gazes from the heavens to their feet, Jake for the first and Nia for the umpteenth time contemplating and despairing of the small-mindedness that often pervades communities who themselves ask for acceptance, the exclusion that accompanies definition, and the denunciations that are necessary to facilitate solidarity.

"Not a "real" lesbian…" Jake thoughtfully repeated.

"Yep. That's what people tell me."

Sapphire eyes flashed.

"Shower of idiots." Muttered the butch, under her breath. But Nia heard, and laughed in delight at her companion's righteous anger on her behalf.

Encouraged, she continued.

"It drives me mad. Don't get me wrong - I understand that every community has a 'dress code'. Otherwise, how would we recognise each other?"

"Yes, you've got a point there." Agreed the dark woman, thinking about just how blatantly her own attire tended to announce her sexual preferences. Nobody confronted with the black-cropped, leather-clad figure could think her anything other than a lesbian…a dyke…or if they were clued up, a butch. The presentation came naturally to her - but she realised now that the totality of her appearance made a carefully constructed statement, none the less. A proclamation that she was proud to make - but one she had hitherto been barely conscious of making.

"And I realise that the majority of lesbians are more comfortable presenting themselves as butch or androgynous than being overtly feminine."

Nia went on, unconscious of the effect she was having on the butch's perceptions. Jake usually took little notice of the reactions provoked by her presence on the street, knowing that they were generally extreme, and negative, more often than not. The blonde's quiet analysis caused the other woman to examine her own exterior for the first time, and prompted her to consider how others might construe it, and identify her as either friend or foe.

The bar manager chuckled and shivered at the same time.

"Hell, I can even understand it - I have reservations myself about an image that's normally associated with trying to catch a man. But this is the way I am - the way I'm supposed to look. I've tried to do the butch thing, and I can't pull it off."

"I can imagine!" Came the laughing reply. "I can't see you looking at home in steel-toed boots and leather."

The blonde giggled again.

"I look pretty funny. And although wearing all that stuff felt like a banner for my sexuality, it didn't say anything about the person I am. It was a shocking lie - at least the untruths I tell with my appearance now are based on other people's interpretation of it."

Jake nodded in agreement, at the same time noticing that the blonde was pulling her coat tighter to ward off the pervading cold. Without a word, she removed her own leather jacket and slung it around Nia's shoulders. The bar manager opened her mouth to protest - but clearly thought better of it, contenting herself with a grateful look that, for the butch, would have made a far bigger sacrifice worthwhile.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." The dark woman replied, and as she continued with her tirade, Nia could have sworn the butch was blushing.

"You know, I don't want to have to change my appearance so I can belong, but most people run scared when someone's identity doesn't conform to what they define as the norm, without bothering to check whether they're reading it right. I've been denied entry to more gay bars than I can count - when a few simple questions would have made it obvious that I had a perfect right to be there. And that quickness to judge comes from prejudice, pure and simple."

"It's not always as simple as that, though."

Nia's incipient diatribe was pulled up short by this unexpected dissent. Taken aback, she blinked a couple of times, inviting the brunette to explain.

"I sometimes make those snap judgements myself, Nia." Jake owned. "It's almost like a mental shortcut - we read people by the visual markers they put out, and sometimes those symbols can be misleading. But we all do it."

Blue eyes met green, and a spark of challenge passed between them.

If there was one thing Nia hated, it was losing an argument. She'd been known to take her views to ridiculous lengths, tying herself up in knots and outrageous statements because of her reluctance to back down - winding up with egg on her face, more often than not. And it looked as though this was going to be another one of those occasions, but for the genuine interest and respect she saw reflected in the face of her new friend - which made her pause for a moment, seeing the conversation, rather than the competition, with a gracious smile and a soft indrawn breath.

"Yes, you're right."

She smiled more widely, inspiring an answering grin from her new friend as the friction began to clear.

"When we name ourselves, we also name everyone else. We work out what we're not as well as what we are. And for most queers, I fall outside the boundary. Hell, I probably even demarcate it. You're absolutely right, Jake."

She repeated, with a sigh.

"That's no excuse for the way I'm treated, though." She finished, quietly.

"No, it's not."

The conversation had become pretty serious, both realised, as they consciously tried to relax their postures. But the femme and butch were also tempted to rejoice in this connection on a deeper level than chitchat and small-talk, even though they knew that self-protection demanded they slow the pace. Nia especially, was revelling in the discovery that her date so obviously knew how to listen. The small blonde often had conversations that wound up with the other participant pushing their 'transmit' button, reciprocity forgotten - which was highly irritating, even though she knew that her willingness to ask questions and her talent for empathising with the answers made it inevitable. More than one budding relationship had suffered an untimely death, as the bar manager ceased to feel able to speak for - or about - herself. But Jake appeared to be able to resist the temptation to take advantage of the blonde's generous conversational habits and talk her ear off, a skill that Nia knew was as uncommon as it was enchanting.

"So what exactly is the problem with the way you look?" Asked the brunette, lightly. "You look pretty good to me."

Nia secretly thrilled at the comment as she carefully replied, "I suppose it's the confusion between gender and sexuality that people can't deal with - they think that femmes are less gay than other lesbians, because their appearance doesn't fit."

"So other lesbians don't trust you because they think you have a choice about your sexuality?"

"Yes. A biologically determined sexual preference has to go hand in hand with gender dysphoria, in some people's minds."

"And why does that matter?"

"Well…I think there's a belief that when the going gets tough, someone who looks like me is going to take the easier road and go back to being with men."

"Why?"

"Because I can."

Jake didn't have a reply to that. Shaking her dark head, she could only slide an arm around Nia's shoulders.

"You know what I think?"

"Go on." Whispered Nia, resisting the urge to bury her face in the folds of Jake's shirt and relax against the sturdy chest.

"I think it's terribly sad, that as a culture, we don't love ourselves enough to love each other."

Well, I really hope you don't include yourself in that judgement…thought Nia, as their cab drew up.

The sub-woofer was booming in the boot of the taxi as it pulled up and the driver wound down the window.

"Aiiiie." Grunted the cabbie, by way of a greeting.

The women grinned at each other. Manchester's cab drivers were notorious for having interests that extended beyond the boundaries of their routes - and the law. The ear-shattering music that normally accompanied any journey was a critical component of the lifestyle and an aural pennant for the image.

"Yeh?" The driver asked Jake, obviously pegging her as the decision-maker of the couple.

The butch turned to her date, eyebrows raised in question.

"Do you want to try Vanilla?" Suggested the blonde.

Jake's lips quivered in amusement at the comment. Well, that'll be a new experience.

"May as well." She managed to reply nonchalantly. "Vanilla, please." She added to the driver.

"Safe." Came a gruff mumble, as the door-locks were released.

As Nia seated herself in the back and watched Jake shut the door behind her, she inwardly debated whether to continue the conversation on the serious turn it had taken. Deciding against it, she had her next comment all rehearsed and ready by the time Jake was seated and belted up next to her.

"I'm glad to be rescued from the karaoke, at any rate. When Al tried her hand at Mustang Sally I thought my eardrums were going to burst."

"Yeah." admitted the butch, with a shrug.

"That kind of thing is like torture for me. I just don't have the urge to expose myself like that, or watch other people do it, you know? Especially Al and her crowd…they're all frustrated divas minus the voices."

Nia snorted in reply, and after a whispered confab with the clipboarded Rasta outside the office of the taxi company, the driver shoved the vehicle into first gear, and rather jerkily, they were off. Hardstep blared from all four windows, which were open wide, despite the bitter cold. Jake tried and failed to shut the one nearest the blonde, shrugging with resignation and a little amusement when she found that the switch had been disconnected.

"I mean", the brunette continued the conversation, to take her mind off the freezing wind and thumping tunes.

"If it's rehearsed, then I love watching a performance. I might even take part. But these impromptu affairs attract the wrong crowd, especially when the show's mixed with alcohol and charlie. If it hadn't been Al's birthday today, I would have stayed well away."

The femme nodded her agreement while vainly trying to stop her teeth from chattering. Noticing her date's discomfiture, Jake started to ponder the risk of unclipping the seatbelts and putting her arms about the blonde to keep her warm. But before she could manage it Nia spoke again, in a tone mingling mirth and ill-concealed disapproval,

"Well, the birthday girl certainly seemed to be enjoying herself. Does she always "hold court" like that?"

"She does." Assented the dark woman, raising her voice slightly in competition with the breakbeats and rising bass.

"All that effort must be tiring, though. Doesn't she ever feel the pressure of being the centre of attention all the time?" Asked Nia, amazed.

"Nope."

"Wow. She must really care what people think of her."

Jake sighed a little, shifting lower in the back seat in an attempt to accommodate her long legs, which felt as though they were wrapped around her shoulders. But the exercise only caused her to get one foot jammed underneath the seat in front. Tutting under her breath, she violently tried to extricate herself.

"Al lives in a small world, Nia. Her social group is really tight - and she works with most of them too. She isn't interested in what's going on in the world or even what's going on with anyone else, unless she can gossip about it." The butch shook her head. "So as a result, little things…"

"Such as who's attracted to her, or her status within her own sphere…"

"…exactly! …Become inordinately important. Anyone can convince themselves they're the centre of attention, if they need the attention enough."

"That's SO sad."

Groaned the bar manager, while reaching over with nimble fingers to gently disengage Jake's right trouser leg from the back of the passenger seat. Foot freed, the butch sat back with a more comfortable expression.

"It is. And deep down, Al's a decent person with a good heart - she just lets it get taken up with trivial crap. Emotions even exist inside her somewhere - but they'll probably die eventually, from lack of exposure."

"Sounds like she's got her priorities all wrong." Said the blonde.

"She has. And it's a real shame…she comes across as being a bit of a plonker, but there's more to her than the ego on legs she seems to be."

"Well, there's more to everyone than meets the eye." Nia offered.

"Yes, there is."

There was a short lull in the conversation at this, as both women stared out of their respective windows, contemplating the familiar maxim and wondering just how much it rang true in their present circumstance.

After a moment, the butch spoke again. "Al's ego was certainly in evidence tonight!" She said, with a wicked grin.

"Well, it did remind me of a tacky variety show. Talk about loving the stage." The blonde responded, amiably.

"I was actually talking about her cracking on to you while I was talking to Kim." Returned the dark woman. "But you're right - they do make a brouhaha about these things. They're like the kids from Fame at the best of times - they're even worse on special occasions."

"Aren't they all in the media, though?" Nia enquired, trying to detract her companion's attention from her blush. "If that's the case, their exhibitionism isn't that surprising."

Jake gave vent to a hearty guffaw.

"You don't miss a thing, do you?" She laughed. "They're entertainment journalists, most of them. So I guess they're used to performing to strangers. It's too bad that most of them are less entertaining than a bunch of performing seals." She finished, with a wink.

"I take it you don't, then." Murmured Nia, half to herself. "Perform to strangers, I mean."

Catching the faint whisper, the butch shook her head emphatically.

"Certainly not."

A short silence fell as the cab rounded a corner beside Manchester's Palace Theatre. The hush was relaxed after a dialogue that had been more intimate than previous exchanges, and both women stared at the posters for the interminable - and abominable - seasonal pantomime. And when they turned into the small back street leading to the bar that was their next stop, Nia was shocked to find that her cold little hand had neatly been taken possession of, and was being warmed inside Jake's large one.

"What does Kim do for a living?" She asked, carefully, to hide her surprise.

"Kim works in fashion. She used to be a model…"

"Figures."

"…but she got a little bit tired of just being a clothes-horse. She wanted to use her brain - she's a bright girl, and she was tired of people assuming that she was thick because she was beautiful."

"That must've been pretty annoying." Said the Bar Manager, thoughtfully.

"Yeah. But at least she wasn't the butt of any blonde jokes…hey!" The dark woman laughed as Nia cuffed her on the shoulder.

"Only joking. Anyone can see you've got a brain in your head - It's obvious from the moment you open your mouth. Kim's not quite as intelligent as you - but she's definitely quick."

A small part of Nia was still walking on air after their talk at Al's party, during which they'd discussed Jake's beautiful friend and she'd made the incredulous discovery that in the butch's eyes, she was more attractive. The blonde had been gratified beyond measure to find that her new friend was a person who could use her imagination to define this phenomenon rather than feebly following the catwalk parades and absorbing the images in glossy magazines. But at this second comment, her face glowed even more brightly. The Bar Manager enjoyed receiving compliments as much as any other young girl - but she had sense enough to realise that those attached to her appearance, while the most pleasant, were the least durable of any. She knew only too well that physical beauty was a temporary phenomenon, and that the sort that was not strictly in the eye of the beholder said as little about the intrinsic value of its possessor as the colour of their shoes. Jake's obvious respect for her intellect, she knew, would serve both of them well if the relationship were to progress.

But while appreciating the butch's stark honesty, the blonde also found herself wondering if it could be tempered by tact and sensitivity when the statements were not so flattering. Nia was a kind sort, who would rather say nothing at all if she could muster no positive comment, and she expected the same courtesy from all her close associates - unless criticism was absolutely necessary, in which case she tried to accept it with grace. Being the target of more than one judiciously truthful acquaintance had made her suspicious of those who were habitually negative about others' traits and abilities, no matter how helpfully the comments were meant. Brutal honesty was not a good quality, in her opinion - since, contrary to the protestations of those who bandied it about, it was not normally without motive. She doubted whether someone who could so easily compare their best friend in an unfavourable light with a new acquaintance could be relied upon to show any discretion when it came to pronouncements on anyone else.

"Thanks", she replied, a little absently.

"Anyway, so now Kim is a dresser to the stars. That's how she met Al - she was wardrobe-mistress for the presenter of an entertainment show that Al was working on."

"That must be an interesting job! She's obviously suited to it, too, judging from her exquisite taste."

"She is indeed. Here's Vanilla, Nia."

As the taxi pulled up outside the small lesbian bar that was their next port of call, Nia could see that it was already heaving. In fact, patrons were beginning to spill out on to the streetside patio, despite the biting cold. While she alighted on the pavement a reckless combination of the gin and tonics she'd consumed and the butch's own intriguing, intoxicating personality made her feel bold, killing her earlier resolution to play hard to get.

"It looks pretty busy in there. Do you want to come back to my apartment instead? I don't have any beer, but I have a good bottle of red wine that's waiting to be opened."

Having paid the driver, the butch didn't hesitate.

"Sure."

"Great. It's not too far to walk from here."

The speakers blared, as the cab sped shakily away.

Nia took Jake's hand again as she led the way to her small flat, winding through the backstreets with the silent step of a wood-nymph and the sure sense of direction that only belongs to those who enjoy the intimacy of a city-dweller's blueprint. The butch followed as best she could, taking in nothing but the blonde's easy, graceful gait as she turned left, then right, then left again with alarming rapidity.

Passing a small row of newsagents and cafes, shutters closed against the night's embrace, the pair came across a tramp wrapped in a sparse, moth-eaten blanket - just one of Manchester's abundant community of homeless. The melancholic sight of the man slumped over in a doorway, either inebriated or asleep, should have been no less affecting because it was so commonplace in the grey, gloomy atmosphere of the city. But absorbed in one another, their burgeoning understanding and the promise of Nia's warm, waiting apartment, the women might have marched straight past had he not roused himself.

"Spare a little change, gels?"

Releasing Jake's hand, Nia immediately began to fish in her purse. Unlike most of Manchester's citizens, the Bar Manager had not experienced a hardening of her attitudes as her residence lengthened in the North's haven for the dispossessed. She'd long ago ceased to care what family and friends said about charity money being good for nothing but funding the drug habits that had probably got these people in trouble in the first place. And her conviction that everybody deserved the benefit of the doubt had grown in response to the hard-hitting lessons that city life dealt her. Streetwise she certainly was not - but she knew a great deal more about the struggle for survival than would ever be revealed by her innocent green eyes. And if she could do her bit to ease some of the shocking social discrepancies that paraded before her and made her wonder just how the powerful nations managed to proclaim themselves "civilised" in front of all and sundry, then so much the better.

She wondered whether Jake would think she was impossibly idealistic and susceptible, as other friends and lovers, who lacked her social conscience and hopeful spirit, had done in the past. Sticking out her small chin as far as she could, she regarded her date with a little enmity, determined to start off on the right foot this time and defend her action if necessary. But the proposed barricade was pulled up short by signs of recognition in the dark woman's eyes.

"How are you, Pete?" Jake asked, her apprehension partly due to Nia's quickly masked, incredulous stare.

The man's eyes, heavily bagged and just discernible beneath a thick woolly hat, began to gain some lustre and spread a gentle brightness across the unhealthy, dirty grey of his skin.

"Alright, chief. Wikkid, wikkid…" He replied in a gravelly voice, pausing for a racking cough that made his whole body shake. "Can't complain."

"Sick teh death of t'ut cold." He coughed and spluttered again, so violently that Nia started back a step, for fear that he would knock himself unconscious.

Since her earliest years, the Bar Manager had always laboured under a strong impulse to heal, to improve the lot of her fellow man. It was what had drawn her to academic politics in the first place - the belief that perhaps the world could be changed, if only the people in power cared enough to do it. This initial optimism had rapidly been squashed by to the carnival of bigots that staffed most public arenas, but her altruistic instincts were still alive and kicking - and needed no more summons to awaken them than the spectacle of this cold, hungry chap. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked them angrily away, determined not to lose her self-control as she removed the Burberry scarf from around her neck and wrapped it about his, saying compassionately,

"This might keep some of the cold out."

Although ailing and exhausted, the man's manners were obviously still intact, as he struggled with his thanks while regarding the blonde with gratitude and disbelief.

"Very kind. Very kind." He repeated, half to himself, overwhelmed and clearly bewildered.

"Much appreciated. Much appreciated. Most people don't notice old Pete no more…he don't matter to them"

His own eyes began to fill now, as he turned the ends of the scarf over a few times between gnarled fingers, stroking them as if to make a closer acquaintance with the garment, lest Nia ask for it back.

"Well, I thought it was a bit unfair, since I'm wearing two coats, for me not to share my warmth."

The femme quipped, her diplomatic instincts deployed just in time to save the tramp's self-respect from the imminent and potentially embarrassing breakdown.

"And yeh did share it. Very, very warm." He repeated, a little more steadily, smiling now into the sympathetic face so near his own.

"That's a precious little friend." His next comment was addressed to Jake, who had been silent throughout the brief exchange. "Look after 'er."

"I'll try my best to keep her safe." The dark woman spoke softly, almost as if loath to break a spell. "I promise."

And again Jake's down-and-out acquaintance was ignored, as two pairs of eyes met, green melting into blue, and the wall between them began to develop another infinitesimal crack.

Eventually the butch began the conversation again, with a whisper that sounded as choked as Nia was feeling.

"Have you eaten today, Pete?"

Still staring at the Bar Manager's scarf, the man did not look up. But a tiny furrow appeared between his eyebrows as he shook his head slightly in dissent.

"I'll buy you dinner." Jake put her hand across Nia's shoulders, an intimate gesture that was noted by the blonde and the vagrant alike.

"Do you want to come with me?"

Reluctant as she was to be parted from her escort at this point, Nia's empathy was beginning to kick in.

"Thanks, but I think I'll stay put." She said.

As Jake crossed the busy road, covering the distance with a few lopes of her long, leather-clad legs, Pete turned to the blonde, who was regarding him with renewed shyness. Nia wasn't regretting her resolution to stay and keep the beggar company - but deprived of the relative security of her dark friend, she was wondering how on earth she was going to get him to talk. Luckily, Pete did not feel quite so intimidated.

"What do yeh do, dear?" He asked.

"I manage a bar in town…Fire and Ice." Nia replied.

She wondered if she'd said the wrong thing, as the expression on Pete's face underwent a transition from genuine interest to absolute shock. Struck dumb, she waited for a moment while he regained his composure, and leaned forward again to catch his next question.

"Oxford Road…red doors?" He stammered.

"Yes."

Clueless as to where these enquiries were headed, Nia decided it was best to answer them as briefly as possible and then attempt to change the subject, as Jake's friend was obviously disturbed by something. She idly wondered whether he knew the place - perhaps he'd been a regular customer before he started living on the streets, perhaps when the previous manager had been in charge.

Looking as though he'd seen a ghost, Pete expelled a heavy sigh, but seemed to have lost the desire to delve. Instead, he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, and Nia flinched as he lit it and the end began to crackle.

"Well…tell Jake to look out. Runnin' them places can be a dangerous business." He whispered.

He patted Nia's hand, slurring slightly as his pupils started to dilate.

"I ran one, y'know…'fore I got in a mess."

Nia felt a chill go down her spine at Pete's words. She wondered whether his establishment had gone bankrupt and left him destitute. She was also starting to doubt whether she was doing him a favour by trying to engage him in conversation, after all.

Perhaps I should have gone to the take-away with Jake. What am I going to say now?

But luckily for her, the misgivings were dissipated before they began to take hold by the reappearance of the dark woman, with hands full of paper bags and a broad, cheerful smile on her face. Nia heaved an inward sigh of relief while the butch spoke to her friend.

"It's pancakes tonight, Pete - from the Dutch Pancake House."

"T'anks, maaan."

Although the blonde was glad that the bad memories she'd awakened for him had clearly been forgotten, the man was now quite out of it, and he slid down even further against the shop door as he reached for the bundle Jake held out to him.

The dark butch turned to the blonde with a wry smile.

"I like to vary his menu, so he doesn't get bored. And a diet of hamburgers and those horrible thin chips is no good for anyone."

Pete was already busy eating, and seemed quite unaware of their presence as he devoured his pancakes with the frantic hunger that is only known by those who have known starvation. Nia shied away mechanically much as an intruder would, wishing to preserve the tramp's dignity - and half turned her back as the butch stepped forward.

"Got this for you, too." She muttered.

Crouching down, Jake slipped into Pete's pocket a small piece of card that Nia recognised as being a weekly pass for Manchester's buses. Although a pretty overpriced invention, most commuters used these to get around the city, as they were valid on any service, at any time.

"Come on, Nia, let's get you home." The brunette said, taking Nia's hand. "Pete, take care of yourself."

Although still engrossed in his food, Jake's vagrant friend looked up to wave at the two women as they walked away.

As soon as they were out of earshot behind a nearby skip, Nia asked the question that was burning on her lips.

"Not that it wasn't a sweet gesture, but why did you give Pete a bus pass? He didn't really look as though he was planning to take a trip anywhere."

Jake answered her a little shortly. "He likes to ride the buses in the winter. They're warmer than the streets."

Nia could have kicked herself for her own stupidity.

Of course he does. Of course they are. What a question.

"Oh." She said.

"I book him into a hostel for a night or two every couple of weeks, as well. He gets some decent sleep, and gets cleaned up. That way, people don't complain about him using the bus service. And the bus rides break up the day a bit, too. He gets bored, and that's when he starts looking for smack."

"That's a good scheme."

Was the only reply Nia could come up with, as she regarded her companion with renewed respect. Almost immediately upon meeting the dark woman she'd had the feeling that Jake didn't expose the tender side of her character too often, and resolving to make the most of this disclosure, she motioned with her eyebrows for the butch to carry on.

"I bought him a train ticket to Penzance once. He was so chuffed - he just went down the line and came straight back, but I think it was one of the cosiest days he's ever had."

"And how did he end up on the streets?" Asked Nia, a little fearfully.

"He got involved with the gangs." Was the grim answer.

"They turned him into a junkie, made him completely dependent on them for his supplies, and used him like a puppet."

Shit. Apart from the drugs, that sounds awfully familiar. No wonder he was concerned when I said I managed a bar. He must think I'm in danger. What a sweet guy.

I dread to think of the gangsters that must have terrorised his bar. I don't think even Matt and his cronies would stoop that low, to get someone hooked on drugs so they could control them.

"And how do you know him?" She asked her companion.

"He's an old friend." Replied the dark woman.

She was smiling, but her inflexible tone of voice definitely told the femme that the conversation was over. Nia wasn't satisfied with the answer by a long stretch, but knew better than to push. And in accordance with her earlier resolution to let no unfounded suspicions spoil their first evening together, she decided to leave the next question unasked.

Ten

By the time they reached Nia's small apartment, Manchester looked like Gotham City. In the pitch black buildings seemed to tower out of all proportion, stark and forbidding, dominating the urban skyline and making even the femme's commanding date feel meek. Uncharacteristically timid, she hung her head against the fine drizzle and followed her diminutive hostess down the short path to the front door.

"Welcome back!"

Exclaimed the blonde, sounding a good deal more confident than she felt - after she'd fiddled with the key in the Yale lock that always stuck, cursing to herself, and managed to prise it open while scraping her knuckles on the frame.

I really wish my fingers weren't shaking. I wonder if she realises? I wonder if she ever gets nervous?

Probably not.

In fact, she's probably been in more women's apartments than I've had hot dinners. This is a normal Friday night event for her, I shouldn't wonder.

Yuck. Better stop that train of thought right now, or I'll be tempted to throw her out right away.

Give her a chance, Nia.

And as she continued to lead the way, trying to ignore the unpleasant taste that leapt into her mouth in response to an indiscriminate promiscuity she could almost visualise, the Bar Manager was shocked and elated to see a tiny tremor in the large, capable hands that pinned the door wide open above her head, preventing it from swinging back and whacking her as she passed through it.

On re-entering the miniature flat, the butch realised she'd been too apprehensive on her earlier visit to take a proper look around, since almost immediately her eye was caught by a small mahogany upright piano, tucked away in the far corner of the living room. While Nia bustled about fluffing cushions and switching on the large, stainless steel lamps, Jake stared at the gold lettering that was gradually illuminated, spelling out "Zender".

"That's a beautiful instrument." She commented.

"Thanks" Smiled the blonde. "It used to belong to my parents. I played it incessantly as a child, so when I bought my own flat they sent it up here for me. It makes me feel at home."

"Do you still play?" Asked the butch, interested.

"I do, but the occasions are getting fewer and fewer." Replied Nia, a little ruefully.

"I don't get the time to practice as much as I used to. But it's a great stress-buster when I have a chance. I can forget about everything else when I'm sitting at the piano, you know?"

"Yeah."

Agreed the dark woman, although she didn't really understand what her new friend was talking about. Jake had spent far too much of her adult life on tenterhooks about saving her own skin or someone else's to ever lose herself in an activity, no matter how enjoyable it might be. This dictatorial self-control was one of the reasons that her hobbies thus far had been pitifully few.

But loath to ponder the totalitarian tinge of her history, she instead took a more pleasant route - surrendering to a curious impulse to tease.

In the moment of quiet, Nia had been grinning and squirming at the same time, wondering what was coming next as the vibrant blue eyes that had captured her gaze were taken over by a fiendish glint.

"So?" Asked the butch, leering wickedly and displaying an impishness that was far more out of character than her host realised.

"So…what?" The bar manager demurred. Always prepared for a spot of banter, the response was immediate, automatic - and unmistakably a challenge.

"Are you going to play it for me?" Jake persisted, undeterred.

"It's only fair."

"Oh, only fair, is it?"

The blonde laughed, trying to appear unflappable and not to show that the request actually made her want to dive under the dining table and stay there. In fact, she considered the option for a moment - but looking at the minuscule amount of cover that piece of furniture promised to afford, and considering that the retreat would probably make it worse in the end when she had to come out and face the provocation, she shrugged her shoulders. Sea-green eyes twinkled irrepressibly as she threw caution to the winds and decided to stand and fight.

"That's a little tacky for a sophisticate like you, Jake. This isn't a B-movie, you know."

As she had hoped, the combination of delicate compliment and good-natured but slightly caustic rebuttal did the job - although she was obviously enjoying Nia's consternation, the butch's eyes widened for a second or two in response, and soon after, she dropped her demand with an affable snort.

"OK, OK…I was only joking."

"You're dreadful." Returned the blonde, swatting the rogue lightly in the stomach and making her start back a step at the unexpected touch.

"You haven't even sat down yet, and already you're making me nervous by demanding a performance."

The words sounded harsh, but their sting was assuaged by the merriment that made Nia's lovely features dance, as she neatly dispatched her guest's good-natured aspirations to debase her.

"Go on, bad boy - sit down, be quiet, and I'll open the wine…and I'll give you a show when I'm good and ready."

"I'll hold you to that." Unbeknownst to the dark woman, this audacious response sent a thrill of excitement scuttling down the bar manager's spine.

Nia was still pretending to be affronted and suppressing an inward titter as she shuffled into the small adjacent kitchen to fetch the bottle of Syrah that had been a Christmas present from her father.

Meanwhile, Jake eyed the sofa.

Looks a little cosy.

I reckon if I sat on that there'd be no room for anyone else. And then where would she sit?

Shit.

I always have this problem in apartments that belong to petite women - I feel as though I'm taking up the whole room. I wish she'd come back and tell me where to put myself.

The strong jaw displaced slightly, as the remembrance that Nia was just one in a long line of many struck the butch as being particularly repugnant. Although she couldn't quite work out why, she closed her beautiful sapphire eyes for a moment, as if to banish the errant thought from her mind.

"You could put on some music before you make yourself at home, if you like."

The shout gave the butch a temporary reprieve, as corkscrew in hand, Nia popped her head through the brightly beaded grocer's curtain that separated the sitting area from the kitchen and gave her visitor an engaging grin.

"Can do."

Relieved, Jake began to negotiate the undersized room. While doing so she glued her long arms tight in to her sides, afraid that one careless swing might bring one of the lamps, plants or even the bookshelf down.

Oops. This apartment definitely wasn't built for an oaf like me.

Eventually the butch came to a squat by the appropriately tiny stereo microsystem, and grabbed a handful of CD's. It was a random bunch, but she soon found something soothing and appropriate among the collection of teenage heartthrobs and angry femmes. Then she could put it off no longer. Nia still busy in the kitchen with the wine, and she had to park herself. Seating her large frame on the small sofa, the guest looked about as uncomfortable as she felt.

But she'd chosen this album because it was an old favourite, and it made her feel a little more at home, if not at ease. And judging from the moan of delight that proceeded from the kitchen, Nia shared her appreciation for the track she'd selected as an opener.

The melancholy refrain was just about to begin as Jake's host re-appeared with two large glasses of satisfyingly heavy red wine. Now side by side on the small couch and more than a little squashed, they sipped in silence for a moment, enjoying the assault on their senses that was created by the combination of heady beverage and passionate lyrics.

"You've got a pretty eclectic music collection there, Nia." Commented the butch a little awkwardly, as the first chorus came to an end.

"Yeah, I know."

"This one's a classic, though."

Jake tried desperately to sound relaxed, while sitting on a sofa so snug that it threw the bodies of the two women into intimate contact from their feet right up to their shoulders. Feeling as though she was manhandling the blonde without an invitation was making her perturbed to say the least.

"Yeah. I find Joni Mitchell a bit of a tearjerker when I'm all alone, but listening to her with you in the room is rather different."

This was muttered wryly, the blonde seeming to speak more to herself than for her companion's benefit.

"I'm sorry - shall I put something else on?"

"No!…No…"

Nia gave her guest a shy smile.

"You make…I mean, you made...a good choice."

The bashful grin that was shared at this comment injected a welcome dose of brightness into the tepid, tricky atmosphere. Suddenly the couch didn't seem like such a tight fit, after all.

Still, Jake's host soon extracted herself from her seat, and looked a little shaky as she retrieved the open bottle of wine from the kitchen. While she did so, the dark woman made use of the opportunity to look around again.

On the small coffee table next to her sat a silver frame, displaying a picture of Nia with a tall, Hispanic, and feminine-looking man. They had their arms around each other, and were both laughing - they obviously were, or had been, very close. Underneath the photograph, across the bottom of the maroon-coloured mounting card, was a message written in a bold, curly hand, and adorned with numerous kisses and flourishes.

"Nia, thank you for being here, there and everywhere.

By far the strongest person I have ever known.

Love always, Theo."

Jake sighed, as the saccharine familiarity of the picture and the loving tone of the words began to arouse the wistful feelings she normally so effectively kept at bay.

Wow…they look so…normal.

I dunno.

When she could have this, why on earth would she want someone like me?

And then she remembered the Bar Manager's words at the taxi rank.

Because she doesn't have a choice. That's why.

She sighed again.

That ought to make me feel better.

For the third time, she sighed.

Admit it, Jake. You want to know that even if she did have a choice, she'd still choose you.

Engrossed in Joni's lament and her own doleful reflections, the dark woman didn't raise her head for the next few moments. When she finally looked up and opened her keen blue eyes, it was to see Nia hovering by the couch, obviously working up the courage to sit down again.

"Who's Theo?" the butch asked casually, moving over as best she could and patting the space - or lack of it - beside her.

"He's an old friend."

Replied the blonde, eyeing the gap Jake had cleared, mentally trying to squeeze herself into it again, and deciding that as a home for the duration of the evening it was probably a no-go even for her petite derrière. Lost in these logistics, she was no doubt too tense to be conscious of it - but her closed statement sounded very much like mimicry to her visitor, exactly echoing Jake's earlier duplicity with regard to Pete.

Well, I suppose I deserved that…thought the butch. If I'm not prepared to disclose, I can hardly expect her to be.

"Share and share alike"...and all that.

However, Manchester's most hardheaded, cynical butch, the toughest customer most of her intimates had ever met, soon began to realise that Nia was not interested in keeping score. Cheerfully, she perched on the arm of the sofa - and as Jake averted her gaze to hide the guilt of her hostile assumption, the blonde began to elucidate.

"I met him working in a nightclub. He used to run coke for the owners - shady Mafia types. I hated them."

Jake continued to stare at the rug.

"Oh."

Was the only reply she could muster to this rather unforeseen statement.

Well, that certainly came fast around a blind corner. Bit too close to home. But it looks as though she's always been mixed up with the Mob, in one way or another.

"The last straw finally broke the camel's back when he came back from a run covered in blood and slashmarks..."

"How awful."

Managed the butch this time, still unable to meet Nia's eyes. If she had done so at that point, she might have seen regret and faded anguish enough to arouse all her protective instincts at once.

But she couldn't - she was aware of how disingenuous she might sound if she said anything else. Such dramas were probably the least violent of the episodes that plotted the action-film inspired reality that had once been her life. She curled her lip grimly, wondering whether Nia realised that her friend had probably had a narrow escape, as her host carried on with her recollections.

"...and after that, I encouraged him to move away from their influence. I knew that he'd probably got off lightly that time - next time he might not have been lucky enough to come out alive."

"You were right." The dark woman concurred, finally lifting her chin to encounter the disconsolate green gaze. Nia seemed to be miles away by now, almost remembering to herself as she relived the old heartache.

"I helped him get through his cold turkey after he quit - which was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I was 19 at the time, and he was 27."

"That must have been a real struggle."

"Yeah, it was."

Despite the fact that her respect for the blonde was increasing with every second, Jake also found it difficult not to feel awkward as her new friend divulged minutiae of such a private nature on their very first date. To be frank, she thought it was odd - it was about as foreign to her disposition as any form of emotional or personal camouflage would be to the woman facing her, sharing with unguarded sea green eyes and so little apparent effort. She was yet to realise that openness went hand in hand with sincerity and informed everything Nia did - a trait that was testament to her strength. If Kim had been present, she'd no doubt have pointed out that there was a lesson for the butch in the Bar Manager's ability to reveal her heart to anyone who bothered to ask. Jake could almost hear the beautiful brunette's voice ringing in her ears with triumph as she listened to the blonde's story.

"See Jake? See how easy it is! The world doesn't end when you make the effort to express yourself, you know. It doesn't have to be such a big deal."

She chuckled.

God, Kim...you're certainly acting as my conscience these days. Even when you're not around you manage to give me a lecture.

"Anyway, I don't want to bore you with the details, but he couldn't keep food or water down for more than five minutes. The mood swings were dreadful, too. I couldn't do anything right - I thought he was going to kill me more than once."

"But you loved him." Jake supplied, still pensive.

"Yes, I did. He was one of the best men I've ever met. And he never hurt me - he always controlled himself, despite what he was going through."

"Good."

Responded the butch, more abruptly this time. The thought of anyone daring to lay a finger on Nia made her feel unreasonably incensed - she could feel a familiar prickling sensation that told her the hairs on the back of her neck were probably standing straight up on end.

The brusqueness of her tone clearly bothered her host. "Are you all right?" Asked the blonde.

"I'm fine." Jake replied.

"You seem a little…nervous." Nia persisted. "Are you?"

Jake rarely - if ever - admitted to what she considered to be a weakness. Her life so far had been concerned with self-protection, not the self-awareness that would have told her to confess her demons and ask for understanding in order to communicate with her strength. But staring deep into earnest green eyes, she felt perilously close to drowning - and the candour she found there obliged her to be frank.

"Yes."

It was as though, once given a chink through which to escape, the word slammed against the barriers that Jake had spent years erecting with such care, and drove itself through her rancour, out towards the light. Tightening her grip on the arm of the sofa, she reeled slightly from the force of the compulsion, and wondered about its origin.

"Why?"

"Because you're a real person."

This admission was carried out on an inaudible moan of defeat, emerging from outside the dark woman's control and with complete disregard for her consent.

And it didn't seem to startle Nia in the slightest.

"This wine is great."

Jake began a little gawkily, desperate to change the subject after her unprecedented disclosure. Luckily, her companion appeared to have no objections, and gave her a friendly grin.

"It is, isn't it? I always think it tastes like berries and cream."

"Mmm."

Agreed the butch, picking up the bottle to examine it more closely. It was a 1994 Syrah from the Australian Rosemount Estate, altogether too expensive to have been bought on a Bar Manager's meagre salary.

Wonder what that's all about. Perhaps it was a present from Matt. He's not the sort of guy who really needs to buy anyone's loyalty, but you never know.

"It was a gift from my Dad." Nia said.

"He gets bottles and bottles of the stuff every Christmas from his clients."

"What does he do?" Asked the dark woman, reflecting that here was another layer of her companion she'd been hitherto unaware of.

"He's Director of Estates at a big university. He deals with building contractors a lot, and they like to buy flashy presents to keep on his good side - the contracts he deals with are worth millions."

"Oh."

In keeping with the theme of the evening so far, Jake found it difficult to dream up a response.

My God...she's about as different from me as a person could get. Am I just fooling myself that we could even be friends?

What would we talk about?

I know she's not as much of an innocent as she appears, but still -

Some of the things I've done she probably couldn't even imagine. And if she finds out I'm connected to Matt she'll never forgive me.

Should I even bother to give this a chance?

She stared at her boots.

But thankfully, her rather sober train of thought was halted by something altogether more urgent, as her fingers brushed against the bar manager's hand in passing the bottle back to her host. Rather hesitantly, their eyes also met - and what passed between them was unspoken but perfectly understood.

The wine almost spilled as the bottle slipped back on to the coffee table, forgotten in the sparks of electricity that had been lurking beneath the surface ever since the two women first met. Lying in wait for what had seemed a protracted evening's activities, they were ready to flare up now - asserting their supremacy over the minds and bodies of the women sitting together in the small, dimly lit room.

"Can I kiss you?"

It was a question Jake had asked thousands of times, often when she shouldn't - but somehow on this occasion it didn't feel so rhetorical as usual. Perhaps that's why the words seemed clumsy as they escaped her - the smooth operator wasn't feeling so sure of herself this time.

"No." The femme smiled as her guest was thrown even further off course.

"Because I think I'll get there first - I'm not asking for permission."

As Nia leaned forward, capturing her date's full lips in a soft, sweet kiss, Jake could taste the wine on the blonde's tongue. She willingly granted it entry, and moaned in silence as it explored gently at first, growing firmer and more insistent as the sensation took hold of them both.

Initially the encounter was almost delicate - for moments, nothing touched except two pairs of lips. But soon Jake's hands were in the Bar Manager's hair, caressing the soft, silky strands as the blonde leaned closer and her ardour began to rise.

However, as the dark woman started to draw the femme into her lap, Nia pulled away. She was panting slightly as she shifted back in her seat and regretfully shook her head.

"I'm sorry. I can't do this yet." It was almost a whisper.

The words crashed over Jake like a bucket of ice-cold water.

"Care to tell me why?"

Feeling a little peeved, she slid backwards on the sofa, turning slightly away from her host, willing her chest to stop heaving.

"It's not that I don't want to." Nia's voice was full of remorse.

"Then what is it?" Asked the butch, a little more gently.

"Look." The bar manager gave her a straightforward, direct stare.

"I'm not stupid. I get the feeling you've had a lot of experience with women, most of it sexual."

Jake inclined her head slightly in assent, trying not to be offended as the blonde summed up her romantic history with a few blunt words.

"And I think if we sleep together now you'll probably have no reason to stick around afterwards."

There was a long, painful pause, during which Nia mournfully acknowledged that she'd probably hit the nail on the head. And her hunch was not refuted when Jake eventually spoke.

"Well, I suppose I can't fault your logic."

The dark woman's hubris had been stirred by what she perceived to be a brush-off, and was on full alert - preventing her from telling the blonde exactly what she wanted to hear. That she was different - and that her refusal to jump in to bed on the first date only reinforced that, elevating her even further in the butch's estimation. But this would have been too humiliating to bear for Nia's proud, sultry companion. Instead, she clamped her mouth tight shut and listened to the rest of her date's rather garbled defence.

"Please don't think I'm being callous. I just want to get to know you a little better. I like you - and I don't want you to lose interest too soon. So don't take this the wrong way, but I don't want to be another notch on your bedpost tonight."

"It's your bedpost." The butch pointed out, still a little nettled. But her eyes were shining.

I suppose I don't blame her. A few years ago she would have been right. I can give her some time.

She wants to get to know me. The butch was astonished at the thought.

I think that's worth the wait. Or it will be, if I can let her inside and she doesn't run screaming.

Continue on to Part Eleven