No Straights Allowed.
It’s seven twenty-five at “The Hawk and Finch”, my local gay bar, I’m in the ladies’ room applying eyeliner by the sink and trying to ignore the cackle of the three noisy invaders standing next to me.
They’re straight, of course they’re straight. You can tell by their El Janet handbags, their Corsica high heels, and an overall valley girl demeanour. They chat inanely about work, mothers in law or whatever as I fume over their intrusion.
See a gay bar’s a little refuge from the mainstream. Straights, heteros or naturals as they insist on being called, rule the world and I as a humble homo have to keep my head down and accept that I’m obscure, alternative and always a bloody outsider.
I get it. I can live with it.
But here’s the thing, every group has its’ own clubhouse, right? Christians: churches, Muslims: mosques. And if you’re neurotypical say, you wouldn’t barge into an autistic support group and strut around like you had every right to be there. Common sense dictates you’d think twice at least.
So, if you’re straight why do you feel entitled to march into a gay bar, knowing it’s not the place for you? That it’s a sanctuary for people who get treated like crap by your group. We gays need time away from you straights, just a few hours a week when we can be amongst ourselves, not worry about being bullied or judged, but to feel safe and accepted, is that so much to ask?
Anyways the leading hen, giggles about seeing two men making out.
“They were fat, bald and ew!” she screeches.
The ladies share a good laugh over the nerve of two men trying to find love. Then the hen’s lacky, a timid brunette perks up.
“What if a girl hits on me?” she asks, “That would be weird!”
Like anybody would bother with you girl!
I’m soon sitting by a table, hanging out with my pals, Chloe and Alisa, chatting about something or other, Chloe’s happy about her new job at the hospital but bitches about the daily paper cuts.
Alisa meanwhile has finally gotten over being dumped by that girl I never really liked, so tonight she’s searching the sea of faces hoping to find a potential HU.
“How about them?” she points to the three heteros, now on the dance floor.
I laugh because bless her heart, Alisa’s always been straight forward and trusting.
“They’re invaders,” I explain “you know straight girls who use this club as a kind of cheat code ’cos they don’t want creeps hitting on them.”
“Oh,” replies Alisa “okay.”
What bugs me is that Chloe and Alisa don’t really seem bothered by their intrusion.
Anyway, the night drags on, some lousy pop tune plays on the speakers whilst a hopeful Alisa chats to a new face, Chloe is restless, dancing freakishly by the DJs’ turn tables like she’s dropped Molly.
I, meanwhile yawn a little, left alone as I’m not that into dancing tonight, but I’m soon snapped out of my ennui by a gratingly high-pitched laugh. Twisting my neck to the right I catch sight of those three hens, hanging out just a few tables away from me, gossiping and drinking.
Alright, they’re happy, but still I’m kind of irked, everyone tells me I should just let it go but I’m a grudge holder, a gal who never forgets slights, and you know what? As I stare their way I have an idea.
Oh boy.
I feel a little naughty. A little devilish. Wicked even because you see I’m a witch.
Go on, laugh it up, I’m serious, and no I don’t have green skin or ride around on a broomstick, but I’ve cast spells, I’ve brewed potions.
What? You want more details? Well I’ve mixed a potion to ease a chronic headache, I’ve cast a spell to make my time at work go more quickly and when I was attending Glastonbury I pulled off an enchantment that gave me eight hours of sleep in a matter of minutes. Hell, just the other week I learnt a rather remarkable spell that can…well keep reading my pretties and you’ll find out.
So, coughing a little, I rise from my stool and walk towards their table. The straights have pulled over some guy I recognise, Gerry the hairdresser, the dude who drives from suburb to suburb giving haircuts to housewives. He’s uneasy having work mixed with social but whatever, he’s gotta be friendly to his clients, right? Thanks to him grabbing their attention, I walk past their table unobserved and chant my spell in a whisper. I grin when I see their unfinished drinks shimmer and flicker green.
Standing by the vending machine, picking a packet of Doritos I watch Gerry saunter back to his table and can’t help but giggle a little as the girls tap their glasses and finish their drinks.
Oh, you fools!
I chew the grease with some acquaintance I know from work, keeping one eye on the trio. My colleague’s droning on about some really interesting book he’s reading blah, blah astrophysics or some shit, and ah hello one of the girls, the brunette has now perked up because somebody’s grabbed her attention.
She’s staring at my pal Alisa who stands alone by the bar. The brunette looking flushed, walks over to her.
Oh.
They’re chatting now, giggling and you can tell by their body language they’re really digging each other. Could it be?
The pair hit the dance floor as a tune that I happen to like pumps out from the speakers. I chuckle as the two other gals frown at their buddy’s behaviour.
My friend from work has gone to check on his piles or whatever so I saunter over to the “hetro” table.
“Hullo,” I say to the ring leader, smiling as I sit down next to her “You guys new here?”
She seems flustered, so has she taken a shine to me? I’m complimented because I like it when girls find me sexy.
“Um…” she splutters a little, now a bundle of nerves as I chat to her, asking her about this and that and then her friend, the red head gasps in amazement letting us know something’s up.
Alisa and the brunette are kissing. Nothing too graphic but full on the lips type of deal.
Hee. Nice.
The two break off, blushing nervously, then holding hands they hurry towards the exit, Alisa catching sight of me, waves as she follows her new friend out.
I’m glad to have helped make two people happy. I’m not a moody bitch all of the time you know.
The blond ringleader on the other hand is flabbergasted, jaw resting on her tits and everything,
“Amazing,” she says “She never, I mean she never…is that why she said she felt funny about coming here, I mean…”
“C’mon,” I laugh “haven’t you ever tried another woman. Frightened you might like it?”
I push myself closer to her and let my right foot travel up her leg. She goes red and low and behold her nipples poke out from underneath her blouse.
Come on lady, I’m thinking, just give the gay way a chance.
Alas pride prevails for she bolts up and backs away, troubled by what’s happening to her.
“Thanks for your um…” she splutters “we’ve got to be going.”
She tries calling her red-haired friend, but by now that lady is walking towards a few rather beautiful women over at another table. They’re soon chatting and acting just like Alisa and the brunette. Our blonde shakes her head in confusion, probably asking why her pals have gone homo. But as she looks around the club, catching sight of this gorgeous lady by the bar or that cute girl in the corner, she’s struck by the fact that they’re making her feel funny. C’mon, I’m thinking, why deny it? We both know what you want.
Ah bugger. She ends up kicking her heels and running out of there whilst I, disappointed, tear open my pack of Doritos.
Ah well, I know she’ll be back.
After all isn’t this a club for people like her? Queer people?
END
Epilogue
“Oh god yes!”
I’ve got that blonde screaming as I work my magic upon her pussy, and I mean I’m that brilliant with my mouth, not that I’ve cast a spell upon her cunt or anything.
She kept coming back to the club of course, couldn’t resist and I was more than happy to help her explore her newfound lesbian side, turns out we worked very well together. Funny that.
She pushes me onto my back and snarls as her fingers find my cunt.
“I want you,” she growls “I want you!”
And she goes crazy once again, my dear desperate Dixie, she’s insatiable in bed, not that I mind, I’m pretty insatiable too.
Alisa and Delia, that’s the brunette, are still together, making perhaps the most adorable couple you’ll ever see and Ginger’s hopping from lady to lady, happy to meet so many new people.
As Dixie works her magic on my pussy I moan and grin and think of her friends, straights, a little alarmed that their friend has gone gay with no apologies.
Hmm perhaps I can open their eyes too, those simple souls don’t know what they’re missing.