Bowling a Maiden Over

Ellie led her to the edge of their private beach. A giant rock face protruded out towards the sea. It tapered towards the end. They walked carefully over to the very edge. Ellie sat down and patted the ground beside her.

The sea was rougher here, the gentleness of the beach replaced by a periodic low roar of waves crashing into the rock below them and sprayed them with a fine mist. The specks of water hanging in the air glistened in the light of the setting sun.

"I come here when I need to think, when I need to make big decisions."

Chantal looked over and saw the main beach infested by blonde haired surfers. The height and slope of the cliff dissuaded any of them from trying to cross to the other side and to where she sat. It was a small, isolated slice of sea and sand, only for Ellie.

Now Ellie and herself.

"This is where I got onto one knee and proposed to Julia. She was so shocked, she almost fell into the water, but I held onto her."

"I bet it was beautiful."

"When she said yes, I was sure I could never come down from that cloud. I thought nothing could ever make me feel unhappy again."

Chantal put her arm around her shoulder and patted her.

"I want to ask you something and I want your honest opinion. Brutally honest. Don't hold back."

Chantal nodded tentatively. Ellie paused to gather her emotions. The words formed in her head, but her tongue refused to speak them. She took a deep breath and blurted it out.

"Do you think I should retire?"

The words hit Chantal like a bolt of lightning.

"I've been thinking if I'm being too stubborn about it. I'm retired from international cricket. This league is all I have left and I'm pretty sure Josh Spurlock kept me out of some misplaced sense of nostalgia. I'm not as fast as I used to be and barely as accurate. When I'm fielding and trying to run after the ball, I definitely feel a lot more tired. The only thing that keeps me playing despite all this is the same love I've had for this sport since I was a four year old throwing the ball to my Dad in our backyard. And now... given how it has taken a toll on my marriage."

"You can't blame yourself for that," said Chantal. "She's being unreasonable if she says you being away from her is a problem. You hardly hear male cricketers' wives complain about that."

"I know what you're saying is right, but at some point I have to ask myself -- is it worth it? Am I just making a fool of myself against leaner, fitter kids half my age? Even you demolish me in practice once you get in the mood."

"You're still an asset to any team, Ellie. We're lucky to have you. What you may lack in speed and fitness you make up for in experience... and then some."

Ellie admired the conviction in Chantal's voice. Her large eyes looked at her with flecks of the golden hue from the sunset.

"Well apparently the press has already decided I'm a has-been. Did you see the meme on the sports page of the Sydney Morning Herald today? It's an old lady with a walker trembling her way to the crease with a ball in one hand. Quite funny, if I may say so myself."

"We're going to make them eat that after our opening match," said Chantal with quiet conviction in her voice.

"Is it worth retiring if I think it will save my marriage? Maybe take up coaching after a few years."

Chantal held her closer. Their eyes were only inches apart.

"I realise relationship advice from a teenager is not the most trustworthy, but I will say this. If you feel like you have fallen out of love with cricket, then you can retire. If you're doing it just to save your marriage, then don't. Your retirement should be on your terms when you are ready for it -- not because someone else wants you to."

Ellie gaped at her. It suddenly seemed so incongruous -- the precocious, innocent baby face and the maturity and depth of wisdom well beyond her years.

"My father frequently does marriage counselling for his congregation. One thing I've heard him say over and over again to couples is that it is less important what a decision is than the fact it is made by both of them. One sided decisions may work in the short term, but eventually lead to unhealthy relationships where one party resents the other."

"He seems like a wise man."

"He is," Chantal nodded.

Apart from his views on godless homosexuals, that is.

Ellie looked around to see darkness had snuck up on them. She helped Chantal to her feet and then they made their way to the cabin across the beach.

"I'm going to go home when we're in Sydney. I'll even go a day early and surprise her. I'm sure if we sit down and talk it over, I can convince her that what we have is worth fighting for. Maybe even put all this divorce talk behind us. I mean, I took a knife to the chest for her once. The least she owes me is a conversation."

Chantal knew what she was talking about. It was around a decade back when Ellie had just been named captain of the Australian national women's team and had also come out as openly gay. She and Julia were on their way back home from dinner when a man attacked them with a knife. She had thrown herself in front of Julia and taken the sharp end to her chest twice before the man ran off.

He was eventually apprehended and unsurprisingly, his Bible thumping homophobia failed to attract any sympathy from the jury. However, Ellie had a punctured lung and the doctors were unanimous she would never quite have the lung capacity of a sportsperson ever again.

Ellie returned to action for her national team fewer than nine months later to rousing applause at the Women's World Cup in South Africa and that was the only time Chantal had seen women's cricket news getting more space than men's cricket news in the Indian sports pages.

Two knife wounds to the chest could not stop her and Chantal wanted to make sure self-doubt could not either.

"Julia, if you ever want to know how much your wife loves you, look no further than what she is willing to give up to have a chance at saving her marriage."

Of course, Chantal did not say this out loud.

* *

The Qantas flight from Perth to Sydney was the loneliest Chantal had felt in a long time. Sumi was there, right beside her to keep her company. She appreciated her presence, she really did, but she wasn't Ellie. She had got so used to her being there for an occasional word of advice, a bit of strategy and sometimes even a quiet understanding of what it meant to play in front of a crowd in a foreign land.

Nevertheless, she understood and respected Ellie's wishes to try and salvage her marriage. The irony stung, her being happy for her crush to be permanently unattainable.

The sheer size and scale of Sydney took Chantal aback at first. The team bus took them to their hotel where a small army of supporters awaited. Chantal deftly dodged any microphone shoved in her direction and made her way to her room with Sumi.

"Have you called your parents to let them know you've reached?"

"I tried," said Chantal. "Unfortunately, Dad is in no mood to talk to anyone right now. Mom knows I'm here."

"What happened?"

"Here," said Chantal, showing her phone screen. The Indian Supreme Court had just voided an old British colonial era law criminalising same sex relationships.

"I hope you're not thinking of coming out," joked Sumi. "Just because five judges in Delhi think it's okay to love someone of your own gender doesn't mean your father is any more open to the idea than he ever was."

Chantal forced a grin. Sumi may have had her suspicions, but Chantal never gave her any reason to confirm them one way or the other.

"You're missing Ellie, aren't you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Only because you've been practically inseparable over the last two weeks in Perth. Do you know why she came a day early?"

"Personal stuff."

Making up with her wife. Living happily ever after. Breaking my heart. Nothing spectacular.

"I'll tell you what," said Sumi. "How about you take some spending cash and go out and see the city? It looks pretty epic from outside the window."

"Where would I go?"

"Anywhere you want. Sydney is your oyster. As long as you promise to stay safe and come back in time for your first net, I don't need to know. You're not with your national team here so you don't have a curfew."

A few hundred dollars in hand, Chantal took her first tentative steps outside the safety of the hotel. She had a hoodie and cap to help her sneak past any remnants of the crowd from before. Once outside, she took in the vibrant throng surrounding her. Tons of people walked all around her, chatting with each other or glued to their smart devices.

She opened Maps on her phone and checked out the places within a short walk. George Street was packed with restaurants, movie halls and art galleries. One in particular piqued her curiosity. She read the description to make sure it was what she thought.

It was warm without being humid. She could smell the light tang of the ocean air intermixed with the street-food all around her as she walked to her destination. It looked exactly as advertised -- a retro dive bar with Murphy's emblazoned in neon across the front.

She stood outside for a moment, trying to will herself to go in. Many women walked in and out of the doors, animatedly talking to each other. The surly looking man outside was her first obstacle.

"You have to be eighteen to be allowed inside," he said, arms crossed in defiance.

"I am," Chantal affirmed. "Here."

She held out her passport. The man flicked through the pages, willing himself to find a reason to keep her out. He scanned and rescanned the date of birth. Try as he might, the math showed Chantal to be seven months past her eighteenth birthday. After convincing himself it was not a forgery, he stepped aside and let her in.

True to the theme, the inside looked like time had stopped somewhere in the 70's. Everything from the décor to the pictures on the wall screamed it. Chantal made her way to the counter at the far end and took a seat.

She bit her lip and looked around. The first time she was away from home and unsupervised and she chose to go to a lesbian bar. She just had to see the scene up close. The more she looked around, the more she came to a singular conclusion.

It's all so... normal.

Far from the visions of fire and brimstone her father had warned her about, the motley collection of women around her seemed to be an average cross section of Sydneysiders with little more than their sexual orientation in common. There were those who had come from a hard day of work wearing business suits. The obviously sporty types, sweating through their headbands with a gym bag strapped around their shoulders. The artistic types were liberally present as well. The only unique point she could possibly make out was a higher percentage of buzz cuts.

It was all new and jarring to Chantal's eighteen year old brain. Women with jobs, families, full lives sharing drinks and chatting with each other... and yet there was something about them that made the likes of Cory Bernardi and Lyle Shelton claim that the end of civilization was nigh.

Her roaming eyes settled on a trio of tall leather clad women. They were laughing uproariously at something at the end of the counter. It took a few minutes for one of them to notice Chantal's attention and wink. Unsure of how to react, she smiled back nervously.

Her smile grew a bit more nervous as the woman approached her with a bottle of beer in hand. Up close, she dwarfed Chantal's tiny body. There were intricate tattoos on the visible part of her hand.

"I haven't seen you here before, cutie. First time?"

"Yes," replied Chantal weakly. "I've never been to Sydney before."

"I love your accent. You're from India, aren't you?"

Chantal nodded, growing palpably more uneasy as the woman put her long arm on the counter. She leaned over until her face was almost touching Chantal's.

"How about you come back to my loft and I properly welcome you to Australia?"

Chantal gulped audibly. The woman's eyes were an ice cold blue, a sharp contrast from the warmth she so often saw in Ellie's.

"Well then," said the woman, putting an arm on her shoulder. "Let's get going."

Chantal was numb. It was as if every part of her body forgot how to move at the same time. The woman was too close to her, the smell of cigarettes and whiskey heavy in every breath she took.

"Back off, Rhonda. She's just a kid."

Both Chantal and her seductress turned their gaze to the counter. The bartender stood with her arms crossed and her eyes fixed on Rhonda.

"She's obviously looking for a good time which is why she came here," replied Rhonda. "She's clearly over eighteen, otherwise she wouldn't have been allowed inside, and this is a Literotica story after all. It's totally legit."

"Look at her. She's fucking terrified of you. Go and pick up someone else. Perhaps someone who has a driver's license."

Rhonda did not look easily dissuaded but there was a firmness in the bartender's tone that made her back off. She rejoined her group and they left the bar.

"Thanks," said Chantal. The bartender seemed to be in her late thirties. She had a sleeveless top and jeans on. Both her arms were inked from wrist to shoulder with beautiful patterns and calligraphy. She had a piercing on her nose and one above her left eye to complement several dangling off each earlobe. Her goth look was completed by an alarming amount of eyeshadow and a blue mullet down the centre of her mop of black hair.

"No problem," said the bartender, extending a hand. "I'm Sorcha by the way and this is my fine establishment. Now what is a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

"I don't know."

"Are you even gay, kid?"

Chantal had lost all her vocabulary. A veritable tempest of thoughts swirled within her, but none of them came close to making sense. She opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish but no words came out.

"All right. Give me a minute to get someone to cover the rest of my shift. We'll take this conversation somewhere quieter."

Chantal nodded, not entirely sure what was going on. Sorcha thwarted another attempt to pick her up when she sent back some drinks a well dressed lady had sent Chantal.

"Let's go," she said brusquely. Chantal did not move.

Sorcha sighed and held her hand. "We're just going to talk. Okay, sweetheart? You're barely old enough to order a drink so I'm definitely not going to make a move on you."

As if on auto-pilot, Chantal followed her up a dusty flight of stairs. Sorcha had swiped a bottle of cranberry juice on the way. They finally reached the roof and she fished out the key from her pockets.

"It's not much, but no one will disturb us. The sharks were beginning to circle down there. They can't resist the scent of fresh meat."

Sorcha drew up two chairs and they sat down. The four-story roof had a great view on each side. The imposing skyline of Sydney's Central Business District was to their left as they looked down to the end of George Street and saw the Sydney Harbour Bridge spanning the water.

"I never get tired of the view," Sorcha said, pouring out some cranberry juice for Chantal and slightly vodka mixed version of the same for herself.

Chantal nodded, admiring it herself.

"Back to where we were. Do you want to talk about why you decided to walk into a lesbian bar?"

Chantal looked at the kindly bartender. A war brewed in her mind. She did not want to have this conversation with a stranger, but there was something calming about her demeanour and she genuinely seemed to want to help her. Sensing her indecision, Sorcha spoke again.

"If it helps, I used to do this for a living. I used to be a psychiatrist and a pretty good one at that. A couple of years ago, I'd had enough of listening to people whine about why their lives are shit and made up my mind -- if I was going to hear any more life stories, there had better be alcohol involved. So, I sold my practice and bought this bar."

Chantal almost choked on her cranberry juice with laughter. Sorcha put her glass down and lit up a cigarette.

"Let's start with your name and why you came to Sydney."

"Chantal. I'm playing in the WBBL opener against the Sydney Sixers next week."

"A cricketer? Interesting. My brother is a huge fan. He probably knows who you are."

"The team is staying at The Ivar Hotel overlooking Hyde Park. I had a bit of free time and wanted to see the city."

"There are plenty of places in the city not exclusively for gay women. Why did you come here?"

"I wanted to see what it was like to be amongst... you know."

"You can't even say it, can you?" laughed Sorcha. She took a deep drag on her cigarette and expelled a stream of smoke up at the sky. "It's not like we're a different species, Chantal. We're regular people with regular lives."

"I know.. but... how do you..."

Sorcha waited patiently. Chantal's struggle was evident.

"How do you know if you're gay?"

"Speaking for myself, it's when you can't stop looking when your mate from school takes off their swimsuit after practice."

"You've known since school?"

"Yes. When the rest of the girls in my class would discuss cute guys, I'd be mentally undressing one or more of them."

"Did anyone else know? Friends? Family?"

"Family, that's a good one," Sorcha laughed. "My Dad left when I was five and my Mum spent most of my school years too drunk to walk in a straight line. She approved of anything as long as she got her bottle of vodka. I did tell my best friend and she thought it was sweet. It took a few years before she came to terms with her feelings too."

She took out her wallet and handed Chantal a picture. It was her and an Asian woman hugging each other on the beach.

"Are you two still together?"

"In a way. Alva is currently in Syria for Doctors Without Borders. Before that, she was with an indigenous tribe in the Serengeti. She's still got a lot more miles left to put on her soul before she parks it in an office. We're not exclusive, but I've promised her that when she finally wants to settle down, I'm waiting right here."

Chantal took it all in. The woman in front of her seemed so comfortable with who she was and who she chose to be with.

"What about you, Chantal? Do you think you're gay?"

Chantal looked around hesitantly. It was as if she expected to see her parents looking on disapprovingly from some corner of the roof.

"I'm not sure."

"Tell me this. Have you ever felt attracted to a woman? Not just that you thought they were beautiful, but you wanted them physically. Your heart beats faster, your mouth goes dry and all you want is to embrace them. Just so you can feel what their skin feels like, what they smell like."

Chantal waited. She saw Sorcha take another deep drag off the cigarette, her eyes never breaking contact.

"Yes."

One three letter word. The admission felt like a massive weight had been lifted off her -- a weight she never knew she was carrying until now.

"Have you felt that way about anyone else? A boy or girl?"

She shook her head.

"Then you owe it to yourself to at least ask this person how they feel. Even if she is straight or turns you down for any other reason, it'll feel so good knowing you tried."

"How can I just tell her?"

"Only you know that. Each of us is different. We express ourselves differently and we react differently."

"It's not that simple. She's married."

"It rarely is simple. There is a right answer and a wrong answer, but I can't tell you what it is. It is for you to figure out and you to make peace with."

Chantal stared at the beautiful view of the North Shore of Sydney across the bridge. For a few moments, neither of them spoke and the only sounds that could be heard were those of the city.