As Time Goes By Ch. 03

"God almighty, girl! Look again!" Dusty raised reluctant eyes to her image. "Shall I tell you what I see?" I continued, "I see a lovely young woman... I see a very lovely young woman who has nothing to be ashamed of. I see a lovely young woman who's got loads going for her. The only thing I can see wrong with this lovely young woman is for some reason she can't or won't recognise her own worth. You're gorgeous, Dusty, and you could be a lot happier if only you'd accept that fact. Christ, look at your face, it's a classic heart-shape. Look at those gorgeous eyes of yours, and that cute nose. In fact, you're not unlike that Audrey Tautou you've just been admiring. Can't you see that?"

I marched her back into the sitting room and sat beside her, still holding on to her hand. "I don't know where you got these negative ideas about yourself, Dusty, but they are self-destructive. Did your parents put you down all the time or something like that?"

For the first time, Dusty showed some animation and snatched her hand away. "No! My parents are lovely people, they did nothing but encourage me. Don't you dare say anything against them!"

At least I'd got a reaction. I retrieved her hand. "Okay, I'm sorry—I was wrong but it does happen in some families. It's got to be something, though, so what? We're not moving from here until you talk to me because frankly, I'm getting pissed off with listening to you put yourself down. I've grown very fond of you Dusty, and don't you dare ask me how I could. I hate to see you like this. So just talk!"

When I said that I was fond of her, Dusty raised her head and for the first time looked me in the eyes. For very long seconds she said nothing and then muttered: "School. I was badly bullied at school. I guess I was a bit of an oddball. Some of the boys were jealous because I was so much better than them at woodwork so they called me names or cold-shouldered me. There were a couple of boys who wanted to be chefs and opted for the cookery classes. Nobody saw anything wrong with that. But a female carpenter? Oh no, that wasn't on. While some of the boys were unpleasant to me, the girls were worse..."

* * * * *

...and the worst thing was that the girls who persistently tormented Dusty were all Upper Sixth-formers and prefects, eighteen-and-nineteen-year-olds, all about to go to university, the crème de la crème as the Headmistress would proudly boast, those who by rights should have known better. They were devious about it, too, doing nothing when there were witnesses around. Dusty knew that if she reported them, not only would she be disbelieved but the bullying could well become worse.

Mostly it consisted of hissed insults... 'ugly bitch Duncan', comments like that, and 'accidental' bumps in the corridors, her books, again 'accidentally', being knocked into puddles. The crude 'jokes': "Who'd shag Dusty Duncan? The blind man, as long as his guide dog didn't run away from her." And similar. But one day they were waiting for her in the lavatories, five or six of them.

"What are you doing here, Duncan?"

Dusty tried to edge past the girls who suddenly surrounded her. "I want to go to the toilet."

"So what are you doing here? This is the girls' toilet. Use the boys'."

"Why should I?"

"You do woodwork," one sneered, "That's a male occupation so you must be a male."

"Yeah, you must be a boy because you haven't got any tits."

One of them pushed Dusty against a wall, clutching her by the lapels. "And if its a titless boy who thinks its a girl, perhaps they cut its dick off when it was born."

"Maybe it was only tiny so they threw it away." Laughter all round.

"So if she hasn't go tits and a dick, there's only one answer," said another, "She's a dirty, ugly, disgusting lezzer."

There was a chorus of jeers. "Yeah, a lezzer, a filthy, ugly, disgusting lezzer."

"And what do we do with filthy, ugly, disgusting lezzers?"

"We teach them not to come into our toilets." Dusty was grabbed and thrown from one girl to another, over and over, harder and harder. Then one of them missed. Deliberately or otherwise, the result was the same. Dusty's head smacked against a wall. The skin split and blood poured as a huge contusion appeared.

There was a brief silence, as if the bullies realised that they'd gone too far this time, until one said: "And that's what happens to filthy, ugly, disgusting lezzers."

There was one of this clique who never touched Dusty or called her names, Alice something... In fact, she always looked vaguely ashamed but she did act as lookout. Now she called out: "Welles is coming." Miss Welles was the girls' Physical Education teacher and generally acknowledged to be a tough one. The gang slipped out of the back door, one turning to glare at Dusty and make a zipping motion across her mouth.

When Miss Welles came into the lavatory block, Dusty was trying to staunch the flow of blood with a handkerchief. "What's happened to you, Louise?"

"I tripped, Miss, hurt my head."

"Let me have a look at that. Right, you're coming to the school nurse." Miss Welles took a handful of tissues from her pocket and gave them to Dusty. "Use these. Now, Louise, did you have some help to trip?"

Dusty stared at the floor. "No, Miss."

"Hmm. Why don't I believe your, Louise? And I think I know who's responsible. I've been trying to keep an eye on them but I can't be everywhere at once—you're not the only one being picked on. Just say the word and I'll have them straight in front of the Head."

"No, please... I just tripped." Dusty raised her head and looked the PE teacher in the eyes. "You might believe me but the Head won't—they're mostly her blue-eyed pets. I'd be the one in trouble for lying."

Miss Welles looked grim. "Okay, Louise, you're probably right. But I'll personally make sure that nothing like this happens again."

For several days the school's speculation and gossip was about why a number of favoured Upper Sixth prefects, all due to leave shortly for university, were taken into the gym every evening for a week by Miss Welles and given an hour's hard, double-time, non-stop circuit training which left them exhausted. It was noted that the same girls seemed to go to great pains to avoid Louise 'Dusty' Duncan and several others.

But Dusty had had enough. She was legally old enough to leave school and she did so without taking any GCSE exams. Instead she asked her father for a job and he was pleased to take her on. He had suspicions about her reason for leaving school but as Dusty wouldn't say anything, he didn't push it...

* * * * *

"And you've let those vicious bitches ruin your life?" I was enraged on Dusty's behalf. "God, but I'd like to kick the crap out them myself." I touched the faded scar on her forehead. "That's how you came by this. And I suppose they're all doing nicely out of life?"

"Oh, yes." Dusty's little laugh was bitter. "From what I've heard, one's got a law degree and is training to be a barrister, a couple are in medical school, another one has qualified as a teacher."

"Well, think about this. Unless they change completely, those lawyers and doctors will always be a load of shit. As for you, you've got your own business, Dusty, your work is respected and sought after, you are respected and well thought of by people round here, and the business is successful. And you've done that all by yourself, so you've got a lot to be proud of, more than they have. No matter how high in the world they go, you'll always be their superior."

"Maybe not," Dusty said, "There's something else, and it puts me in a bad light. I'm so ashamed of myself."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Dusty nodded. "It was when I went to see my parents a couple of weeks back, I'd gone into town for something..."

* * * * *

"Louise? It is Louise Duncan, isn't it? Dusty?"

Dusty turned from the shop window she had been gazing into. A young woman in Salvation Army uniform was standing by her side. She looked familiar. "Dusty?"

"Yes. Do I know you?"

"Alice... Alice Rayner... from school..."

A sudden, unwanted memory hit Dusty hard and she raised an involuntary hand to her scar. School lavatories, a bunch of older girls pushing her around, her head smashing into a wall, one of them standing watch at the doorway. Alice Rayner...

"Yes, I remember you!" She spat the words out.

"I know I can't be a very welcome sight, Dusty, but I want to apologise for the dreadful things we did." Alice's voice was subdued, her eyes downcast. Seeing somebody other than herself like that brought an unfamiliar feeling of elation to Dusty's breast.

"Why should I accept your apology? It's about six or seven years too late."

A whispered reply. "I know. I always felt terrible about the way we treated you but I didn't have the gumption to stand up to the others. I wanted to be one of their clique so badly and..."

"And so you helped to make my life a misery." Dusty could feel herself getting more and more angry. "So why bother to approach me and say sorry now?"

"I've said I always felt bad, I've always wanted to make amends... there's something else now, Dusty. I found God, or rather God found me... He's shown me the right path. I can't escape my past weaknesses and bad behaviour but I can try to make a better future. I'm so very sorry for the part I played in bullying you."

"Do you ever see any of your old friends?" Dusty said.

"Sometimes in the street... I don't mix with them now but, yes, sometimes..."

Dusty thrust her face towards Alice. "Well, when you see them again, you can tell them they were right about me. I'm a lesbian, a lezzer! Let's see, what was it? An ugly, filthy, disgusting lezzer. Tell them that so they can feel good about themselves. As for you, Alice, you and your apologies can fuck off! You can fuck off and find your God somewhere else. And if you find him under the wheels of a moving bus, so much the better!"

Dusty turned and stormed away. After a few yards she glanced back. Alice was still standing there, her face a mixture of misery, shame and remorse, and there seemed to be tears tricking down her cheek. Good! Dusty was two streets away before she became fully aware of what had happened, of how she had behaved. She felt a sudden rush of shame herself and turned to face a wall so that passers-by couldn't see her own tears flowing. Why did I do that? That wasn't me. Alice meant what she said...

Hastily, Dusty retraced her steps. But Alice wasn't there...

* * * * *

"Why did I act like that, Fran? I'm not a nasty person. No matter what, I've always tried to be a nice person. I've never told anyone to fuck off before. I've never even used the word. And Alice was obviously sincere."

I touched Dusty's cheek. "No, you're not a nasty person, in fact I think you're a very good person. But there was a lot of poison and hurt inside you, Dusty, and it had to come out sometime. It's like lancing a boil, the sooner it's done, the better. Perhaps things will start to feel easier for you now."

Dusty nodded. "Alice... if I'd acted differently, Fran, I think perhaps Alice and I could have become friends..."

Tears were pouring now and Dusty fell into my arms, sobbing bitterly. I held her close, letting her get it all out. I hoped that this would be all to the good for her. When she had calmed, I wiped her face as best I could then lifted her from the sofa and took her back to the mirror. "Forget about the tears, Dusty, they can make anyone look bad. Just look again and tell me what you see."

Her reply was hesitant. "Someone nice...?" And then a nervous little laugh. "Someone a tiny bit like Audrey Tautou, perhaps...?"

"Yes, someone nice, someone lovely. Hold on to that thought, Dusty."

Dusty came into my embrace. After a while, she said: "Fran, why have you kept on bothering with me?"

"Because I love you."

God, where had that come from? The words had just come out without me even thinking. And then I realised it was true. I loved Dusty. Earlier I had told her I was fond of her but it really was so much more than that. It had been building up inside me for some time without my realising, I think maybe from that first snowbound morning in bed together when I had kissed her sleeping lips. For a long time I'd believed my feelings for Dusty amounted to sympathy and compassion, and perhaps they were at first, but I knew now that they were so much more than that.

Dusty looked at me, wonder in her eyes. "Did you mean that, Fran? Do you really love me?"

I felt a sense of wonder myself. "Yes, Dusty, I meant it. And I don't mean I love you as a friend. I love you as a woman--it's taken me a long time to recognise it but ... yes, I love you."

Dusty looked me straight in the eye, one of the very few times she had done so. "And I love you, Fran. Apart from my parents, you've been one of the few people who has always been there for me, who really cared for me. It took me a while to understand what I was feeling but I think I've loved you for quite a long time now. I didn't say anything, I tried not to show anything, because I didn't think..."

"You didn't think I could be interested an ugly, filthy, disgusting lezzer," I finished for her. She nodded. "Well, that's as may be, Dusty, but I don't know any ugly, filthy, disgusting lezzer. I certainly am interested in a shy, lovely lesbian master carpenter." I tilted her chin and kissed her softly.

"Fran, can I stay with you tonight?"

"As many nights as you want."

"Just for tonight, Fran, for now," said Dusty, "I just want to sleep with you like I did when we were snowbound, for the comfort. It's silly, but I'm still a bit scared of the whole thing and I don't think I'm ready for..."

"You're not ready for sex yet?"

"You do understand, don't you Fran?"

I gave her another gentle kiss. `'I understand. Don't worry about that, I can wait as long as it takes."

* * * * *

And I waited quite a few months. We carried on, truly loving each other, but poor Dusty seemingly unwilling or unable to commit to her true nature and me. We did our separate day's work, we would have our evening meal together, perhaps watch a little television or listen to some music together, and then we would kiss goodnight and Dusty would retire to her small flat above the carpentry shop.

Frustrating? Yes, a little because I loved her and wanted her but I was determined not to push her into anything. One thing I had discovered about Dusty during the time she had been here: quiet and shy as she was, she could also be very stubborn. If I forced the issue, then she might easily back out for good. Whatever, good things are worth waiting for and I'd told Dusty I could wait as long as it took. So I continued to rely on my fingers and my tiny vibrator to help me out when I felt randy.

Things changed one summer evening, literally without warning, about an hour after Dusty had returned to the flat. I'd had a shower and was sitting in my robe, reading a book when there was a quiet, almost timid-sounding, knock at the cottage door. I called out. "Who's there?" There was no reply, just a repeated knock. Although any kind of trouble was unlikely where we lived, I always kept a stout stick by the door, just in case. Checking that the stick could be easily reached if necessary. I opened the door.

Dusty stood there, clad in a bathrobe. Without saying a word, she stepped over the threshold , took my face between her palms, and bent her head to kiss me on the mouth. This was far from the usual goodnight peck of a kiss; her lips were so soft and gentle and clinging that I had to catch my breath. After long seconds, she drew back and I sighed deeply. In a low voice Dusty said: "I've realised I can't go on being afraid forever, Fran—it's no good for either of us and it's certainly not fair to you. I think I'm ready to try now, if you still want me..."

"Still want you? God damn it, Dusty, I love you. Of course I still want you." I threw my arms around her and held her tight to me.

Tears welled up in her eyes. "And I love you, Fran. I needed to be sure. I want you to make love to me. I know I can't replace Dot but I'll try to be good for you. I promise you, Fran, I'm not the type to wander. You'll be my first lover and my only love."

"There's no question of you replacing Dot," I told her, "You are such totally different people." I buried my face against Dusty's shoulder so that she wouldn't see the sparkling of tears in my own eyes. Dusty smelled of soap, clean, sweet and fresh, as if she had just taken a shower before returning to the cottage. And there was a hint of body lotion, Obsession I think. We stood there for lord knows how many minutes, just hugging each other then without another word I took her hand in mine and led her to the bedroom.

I switched on a small bedside lamp thinking its soft, dim light would probably suit Dusty best. We sat on the edge of the bed and cupping her head in my hands, I kissed all over her face, just gentle kisses, forehead, eyelids, nose, cheeks, lips. Her skin felt so soft beneath my lips that I almost whimpered with pleasure. Now was Dusty's moment, though, not mine.

I released the belt of Dusty's robe so that the garment fell open. Beneath she wore only bra and male-style boxer shorts, both simple, non-exotic garments in plain white cotton. I slid the robe down so that it fell from her, easing her back and planting a series of butterfly kisses across her shoulders as I did so. I caressed her arms and torso and thighs with feathery touches, using only my fingertips, and brought my mouth to hers. As our lips pressed together, I allowed my tongue to brush against her lower lip. Dusty's mouth opened a little and the tips of our tongues met in gentle caress. Her arms gripped me to pull me closer and a low moan escaped her as a slight shiver shook her frame.

I did nothing more for a while, except to lie beside Dusty and continue with gentle kissing. I nibbled her ear and her neck and throat and jawline and rubbed her body with light and tender touches. At one point she pulled away a little, saying: "Fran, I do love you but I don't know what to do."

"And I love you, Dusty, and all you'll ever have to do is what comes naturally—believe me, it will. But right now you don't have to do anything. Tonight's about you, not me. Just relax and leave it all to me." I continued with my tiny kisses until her breathing became low and heavy. I reached behind her and released the catches on her bra. As I took it from her, she put her hands over her breasts.

"Please don't look, Fran. My boobs are so small..." There was shame in her voice.

"What does that matter?" I said, "Mine aren't all that big and anyway, I like small boobs."

I took her hands away from her breasts but so as not to upset her, I didn't look at them immediately. Instead, I brought her hands to my mouth and gave each finger in turn a lingering kiss. And when I had done so, I sucked her fingertips over and over before turning her hands and burying my lips into her palms and nuzzling them. When I felt her relaxing again, I looked at her breasts.

Yes, they were small as Dusty had said but they were neat, shapely cones with large puffy areolas and hard stubby nipples. There was a cute little mole on her right breast, just below the nipple. "Oh Dusty, they are so beautiful." I bent forward to give the tip of each breast a tiny kiss.