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The club was on the second story of some high street shops, the only visible marker of its existence a narrow indistinguishable doorway. During the day it went unnoticed by shoppers and café-goers. Tonight though, for the people waiting in the line to go in, the open door revealed the bottom of a staircase leading to somewhere, to something.
As Tara stood in line, she caught her reflection in the store windows, her silhouette visible against colourful shoulder bags and backpacks. The inanimate objects displayed facing out towards the street were oblivious to the act of bravery being carried out in front of them. She hoped it wasn’t obvious to everyone else that she had no idea what she was doing.
She knew it probably looked like she was trying too hard.
Back home, Tara had always been the most stylish one in her friend group. Amongst all these attractive people, however, she felt like a girl without an identity of her own. Everyone else seemed so authentic, so sure of themselves. They had a ‘look’ that expressed, ‘this is who I am, this is who I like, this is who I have chosen to be’.
She was already regretting her decision to come.
Her new friend, Edith, hadn’t asked her directly, but seemed to spot she wasn’t straight. Tara had no idea how. She was wearing the same clothes she had worn in Kent all summer. There were no visual clues on her belongings. No Pride stickers on her laptop, no pins on her jacket, no flag in her room. She had never in her life had another person ask if she was queer.
And yet, at the end of Freshers Week, it was only Tara that Edith had asked to go along to sapphic night at Alia. She had accepted immediately. Well, almost immediately, apart from the infinitesimal breath she had sucked in as she made the decision to turn her life upside down. She had no idea if Edith and her freakishly good gaydar had felt the imperceptible pause where she committed to living as her truest self.
It had been such an affirming moment, but now as she stood in line to get inside, she felt like a kid playing grown up.
She was 18, in a new city, on her own for the first time. Tara had the same amount of life experience from a week ago, but suddenly the confidence needed just to exist in her new life had been multiplied by ten. Now that she was at uni she wanted more. Tara was done with just existing, meeting everyone else’s expectations, doing what she was told. She was ready to live.
Looking back, it was an impossibility that there were no lesbians at Higgs, but where had they all been hiding? Did they know they were lesbians but had decided to keep it to themselves? Or had they been like her; unsure, unwilling to consider or explore, carried along in the flow of teenage life, kissing the occasional boy to avoid attention? Hiding in plain sight amongst her gal pals who danced together in tight circles and dragged each other everywhere. She had always giggled ‘no thanks’ when brushing off reports that some random Tom, Nick or Harry thought she was hot.
She refused to do that anymore.
But that refusal required her to live more bravely than she had been in her short 18 years. Could she really do this on her own?
Edith really had sounded ill when she called to cancel. Tara did her best to sound sympathetic and tell her not to worry about it, but in reality, she was annoyed. Her make-up was nearly finished, her outfit was immaculate, and she had been giving herself a pep talk all day. Tonight she was ready to wear the label lesbian for the first time in her life and she was frustrated that it might not become a reality.
There were so many bars around town for gay men, but for some inexplicable reason, the sapphics only got a dedicated ‘night’ once a week at Alia. She had no idea why; it seemed sexist and exclusionary to her. Whatever the reason, it meant that if she didn’t go out tonight, she would need to find all her courage again in another week’s time. Waiting seemed like an unnecessary risk. What if she lost her resolve? Deep inside Tara knew this was her moment. She decided to go on her own, telling herself that even if she only went for a short time, at least she would be able to say she went. One drink, she told herself.
Just to see what it was like.
The handbags on sale in the window whispered back to her that she was doing the right thing. She hoped they weren’t wrong.
When she got to the front of the queue, she found herself facing the bouncer who was dressed warmly for a night outside. They had short electric blue hair poking out from under a black beanie, a black puffer jacket, black utility trousers and piercings in their eyebrows and lips and a silver ball on their septum piercing. They asked to see her ID and looked Tara up and down when they gave it back.
The expression on the bouncer’s face suggested she had been marked as inexperienced.
Great. She had stumbled at the first hurdle.
Nonetheless she was encouraged to go inside with an upward tilt of the chin and a nod to the door, the tiniest smile appearing on the bouncer’s face.
She went up the stairs, following everyone else, her eyes focussed on the floor to avoid staring at the arses and thighs of the people climbing in front of her.
The place wasn’t that big. The front room was a bar like any other, with standing room and booths all along the wall of windows that faced the high street. A doorway at the back led to a room with a dance floor.
To disguise the fact she was alone, she moved around the whole venue with purpose, trying to look confident, pretending she was looking for someone. She was careful not to catch anyone’s eye.
It worked at first, until Tara realised she couldn’t keep doing this indefinitely, doing circles around the venue like a zoo animal stalking the perimeter of its enclosure. Eventually, she would have to stop walking and she didn’t know what came after that. A drink, she remembered. A drink would bide some time.
I can do this, she told herself.
Everyone purchasing drinks before her had been leaning all the way over the bar to say their order directly into the ear of the bartender. Tara didn’t know if it was because the bar was noisy, or if it was just an excuse to get closer to the attractive bar staff. Still, she followed their lead and was handed a vodka and coke.
Taking her emotional support drink with her, she determined the best place to be inconspicuous was the room with the dance floor. She walked past the booths on her way there, finally brave enough to look directly at the people she passed. The groups of women gathered around the tables felt like an impenetrable clique. They looked her up and down, their eyes moving like a unit, an occasional eyebrow raised in approval; it wasn’t exactly predatory, but there was no doubt they were checking out the new girl. Not one offered her a friendly smile though, or an offer to join them. She walked past them all and went into the back room.
Taking up a position against a pillar beside the dance floor, Tara now had the perfect vantage point to watch the crowd and the bodies moving together around her. And what a landscape it was.
Sapphic lovers with hands slung over shoulders or resting on the exposed skin below the bottom of crop tops, asymmetrical haircuts, styled into perfect angles, pixie cuts, shaved sides and backs or a combination of both, long locks covering bare shoulders. Low slung jeans and tight t-shirts, black or white block colours to accentuate muscle definition or tattoos, toned biceps, piercings, curves, leather or silver jewellery. Cleavage spilling from the flashes of lingerie exposed by deeply cut necklines. Muscular arms and washboard abs. Small breasts free inside tight tank tops, nipples pert and visible through the fabric.
She took in the sight of everyone hungrily, but as attractive as the people were, it was the dancing that drew her attention.
She had always found watching good dancers hot as hell. Not ‘good’ like the technical and methodical dancers from her childhood classes who were skilled but lacking in soul. Tara preferred wild dancers, the kind who were untroubled by the attention of others, abandoning their hearts to the pulsing rhythm of the dance floor.
Bodies moving against each other. Moving to the music. Curves swirling in undulating movements that started in the hips, snaking up through torsos, breasts and shoulders in a fluid motion. Tara had never seen a man move this way. Most lads at the Truham/Higgs parties she used to go to had bounced around clamorously, taking up too much space on the dance floor, mistaking their awkward jumping up and down and into each other as dancing.
These women danced like liquid.
The lines blurred where one body ended and another began, skin glistening with sweat as the crowd moved. Beads of perspiration running down faces and throats, disappearing into cleavage on the journey downwards. Tara looked at the dancers and felt her temperature and heart beat rise, finding she had an unexpected desire to run her finger through the drops of sweat she could see on the lower back of a girl dancing close to where she was standing.
If only she was brave enough to talk to her.
Her drink finished and no idea what to do next, Tara contemplated leaving.
She felt like there were people staring, but nobody had approached her and there was no way she was ready to approach anyone else.
But just as she was deciding it was time to go, she heard it.
As soon as the opening bars played, a cheer went up from the room. Even those who had been hugging the walls surged forwards to the dance floor.
🎵 Big bold women. Round of applause.
The mood in the room became celebratory.
She wanted to claim it.
Celebrate with them.
🎵 Big bold women gonna come and applaud.
Her feet assumed a confidence her head was not sure it had yet and moved her forward, propelling her into the sway of bodies.
They were waiting for it, the chorus, and she threw herself among them.
When it came, they chanted the letters as one.
🎵
F E M A L E
F E M A L E
F E M A L E
F E M A L E
She was surrounded on all sides.
These were her people.
This was where she belonged.
🎵
F E M A L E
F E M A L E
F E M A L E
F E M A L E
She closed her eyes and felt the beat deep inside her. The soft skin of the people dancing near her slid against her own, limbs rubbing against each other in the crush of the dance floor, setting her body alight.
🎵 F E M my god
How had she been living without this?
For the first time ever she could feel the stirrings of desire in her body. Not the childish infatuation she remembered from her younger years, but pure sex, a euphoria like nothing she had ever felt before.
🎵
F E M A L E
F E M A L E
F E M A L E
F E M A L E
She loved women.
It was her truth.
There had never been anything she wanted more.
🎵 She a queen
Fuck yeah she is.
When her eyes opened, she saw the room flooded with rainbow lights, illuminating joyful faces everywhere she looked. Tara felt someone’s attention focussed on her. She looked around to see them. They locked eyes.
Short spiky blond hair, wide leg black trousers held low by a thick studded belt, a short black t-shirt, a cropped denim vest. A full sleeve of tattoos down one arm. A silver spider hanging from a belly ring.
Coming towards her.
This was how it started.
🎵 F E M my god