The Bitch and the Butch

Author's note: This is going to be a strange one, a little different from my usual work, and I don't know if everyone will enjoy it. But, from what I've seen doing my research, there's a lot of demand for a story like this and I can't really find any other stories of this sort out there, so hopefully some readers will enjoy this idea as much as I did writing it!

I should warn everyone that some of the language in the early sections of the stories is unpleasant and a little homophobic - I think it's necessary to create this character in order to set up the story I want to tell, but I don't like it myself and I feel the need to mention it now in case it offends anyone. If you expect that kind of language will upset you, please don't read on.

I'm also conscious that, at points, I play a little fast and loose with butch orthodoxy - it's all with an eye to the story, so hopefully you'll forgive me!

One last note -- I originally published this story in chapters, explaining the breaks. The flow should still be there, but I wanted to explain in case you think there are somewhat random stop-starts.

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The Bitch and the Butch

It was a wonderful sunny day - Ellie Johnson couldn't help but smile as she stepped foot from her halls on her first full day at uni.

Ellie was young, the early side of twenty, and she had a nice body concealed behind her usual style - a buttoned-up shirt and a pair of jeans supported by braces, complemented with a pair of scuffed and well-worn Doc Marten boots. To top it off, she wore a beanie hat over her short black hair - it was a beautiful day today and so the hat wasn't overly appropriate, but it was a quintessential part of her style and she loved it.

And she loved being here - for so long, she'd dreamed about coming to university, leaving her small town and making something of herself. She'd worked hard, she'd put in the time and now, finally, she was here.

A uni on the other side of the country - she'd make friends and discover herself all over again.

Ellie readjusted her backpack and started wandering about campus, looking for a spot to sit and have her lunch. And she eventually found one - a nice picnic table, shaded from the sun by a large tree and strangely abandoned despite how busy it was. People were sitting nearby, on the grass, but this table remained unoccupied.

Was there something wrong with it? Not that she could see.

Well, needs must - she shrugged her shoulders, almost to herself, and took a seat.

As she opened her bag, she was conscious that nearby people were staring at her. She was sadly all too used to that - you don't come out and mark yourself as a dyke in a small conversative village in the middle of England if you weren't prepared for lots of glances and muttered asides - but this felt different.

They weren't looking out of disgust - Ellie knew that look. No, these glances were ones of concerned anticipation - and of worry.

Worry? Worry about what?

The answer to that question came soon enough.

Ellie was eating her lunch when she was conscious of a figure standing over her.

She looked up, and was greeted by the sight of an absolutely stunning woman. They must have been the same age, but they couldn't have looked more different. Where Ellie wore a simple shirt and loose jeans, this woman's outfit was refined and elegant - a striped blouse and tweed jacket, light brown jodhpurs and brown knee-high boots. Where Ellie's hair was black, cut short and spiked, the woman wore her brown hair long, flowing past her shoulders in style that looked both carefree and perfectly calculated.

The major difference at the moment, though, was their demeanour. Ellie sat casually, a smile on her face, while the woman had her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. Whatever had happened, she clearly wasn't pleased, and she wanted Ellie to know about it.

"Hi there," she said, entirely carefree in a tone that seemed to annoy the woman more.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded. Her voice was posh - it seemed appropriate given her attire.

Ellie was baffled: "I'm sorry, what do you mean?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing sitting at my table?"

"Your table? Isn't this a public space?" she asked. Ellie was a little worried - it was her first week, and she hoped she hadn't caused any upset by unwittingly trespassing on private property.

That, though, was not the case, and she figured that out fast when the woman laughed out loud.

"Do you not get how this works, butch? I'm Mercedes Alexander."

Ellie looked at her, not understanding the point.

"Look, two things," she said. "First, it's Ellie, and second, I-"

Mercedes interrupted, and looked furious about it.

"Don't you tell me to look, butch. Who do you think you are?"

"Who do I think I am?" Ellie felt a swell of anger. "Who do you think you are, ordering me about?"

Mercedes was clearly surprised at Ellie's refusal, but she didn't let it throw her stride.

"Look, you're new here, so let me tell you how it stands. I run this place, and people here do what I say. So when I say to fuck off, butch, that's what you do."

Ellie would have been happy to leave it there, or to floor Mercedes with a well-placed punch to the face, but she was conscious that a crowd was forming, and she didn't want to back down. She did that at her last college - she let the bullies get to her, and once they knew they could, they never stopped. Not here - not again.

"This is a public space, Mercedes, and I'm sitting here," she said, calm as she could manage. It was clearly a big gesture - she swore that she heard someone in the audience gasp at this move of defiance.

The posh girl looked unhappy, and she folded her arms. She stared at Ellie, who stared back - this had become a psychological battle, one that neither girl wanted to lose.

Mercedes made the next move, and it was clearly intended as a finishing blow:

"Look, I don't have all day, so I'll give you one last chance, butch. You probably think you're special, but you're really not - I've seen dyke bitches like you come and go. You think uni's a place for you to come, make a grand statement about yourself, think you're going to change the world, right? Wrong. It's where you learn where you fit in the order of things, but I'll give you heads-up nice and early - it's at the bottom, butch.

"So when I say to get up from my table and let me enjoy the fresh air without needing to deal with some fucking butch dyke who doesn't understand her place in the world, you fuck off and crawl back into whatever gutter you came from - capische?"

It was the look of total detachment on her face that made the words so much crueller.

Ellie wanted to speak, but the words choked in her throat. She suddenly realised that tears were streaming down her face - Mercedes' words had got to her. And Mercedes knew it - she saw the pain in Ellie's eyes, and she smirked.

"How can you be so cruel?" Ellie managed to force the words out.

"People need to learn where they belong, butch. People like me, we belong on the top, and disgusting gutter dykes like you need to return to whatever awful place they came from. Consider this a free lesson in where you belong, butch, and fuck off out from my table."

Ellie was furious and heartbroken at the same time, and she couldn't find it in herself to fight back. She rose silently, fury in her eyes, and glared at Mercedes as she grabbed her bag. The posh girl didn't seem intimidated in the slightest, staring back with amusement and contempt.

Ellie ran away, and heard Mercedes muttering about 'stupid dyke fuckers' to her listening audience. Normally, she'd have turned around, but she just didn't have it in her - the confrontation had knocked the wind out of her.

She no longer wanted to be out on campus, exploring the uni - she wanted to be back in her room, insulated from the cruelty she'd faced. She ran back to her halls, wiping the tears from her eyes as she did.

Back in her room, Ellie stormed over to her desk and turned on her laptop. She wanted to know who this horrible woman was - this person who had taken such pleasure in so cruelly humiliating her.

Her sadness and fury had transformed into fury alone.

Social media swiftly turned up the goods, and Ellie had to admit that she was initially a little impressed. Mercedes was a smug bitch, but she hadn't lied about her status on campus - it seemed like she did run everything. She was big on the campus newspaper and involved with the string orchestra. She was a singer, and she had performed as some major uni functions. She was a big figure in campus sport - she was involved in swimming, part of the yacht club and she rode horses (Ellie had guessed that much after looking at her outfit). She went to all the big parties, hanging around with some stunning men and women, and she had a new expensive dress for every occasion.

The more she saw, the angrier she became, and the more she wanted revenge. Ordinarily, that idea wouldn't even have entered Ellie's mind, but this was a special occasion - someone like Mercedes Alexander deserved everything that came her way, but she'd clearly had it far too easy for her entire life and she simply didn't understand how anyone else lived.

But what? She could pay someone to break her limbs, or beat her black and blue. Those ideas would certainly work, but they somehow felt too easy -- Mercedes would recover, maybe not even learn her lesson. And what would be the point - the only way this revenge would mean anything was if it meant anything to her.

Physical violence was not the answer.

No, Ellie needed something else - something that would stay with the bitch, just like her words would stay with Ellie.

And then, she had a thought, and it developed into the gem of an idea - a genius, simple and all-too satisfying idea.

Mercedes hated lesbians, that much was clear. She hated Ellie for being a lesbian, and she hated her for being a butch.

She told Ellie to return to the gutter - she called her a gutter dyke.

So what could be a more perfect revenge than bringing Mercedes down with her?

What could be more perfect than making Mercedes what she so despised?

***

The next few days were busy ones for Ellie - she was planning exactly what she'd do, and she was conducting reconnaissance on Mercedes. In order to break her enemy, she first needed to know her enemy.

And something she'd learned, and which she knew she could definitely use in this battle, was the fact that Mercedes had two main friends in her intimate circle. Friends, or flunkies - Ellie didn't know exactly, but she saw on social media that she often relied on the girls for back-up and support. There was never a photo without tons of positive messages, great vibes about how beautiful she was and such an inspiration.

It was clear that Mercedes used them - maybe even relied on them - for validation.

That was something Ellie could use to her own advantage.

Throughout the course of her research, she'd learned that the three friends would be attending one of the uni's annual fresher events - a ball, and everyone was invited. If they were going to be there, Ellie knew she'd have to be there too.

She made her plans, and headed off to the ball.

Ellie turned up about an hour after the night began, wearing her best formal wear - a suit, the classic black trousers, white shirt and tie, with a pair of braces holding them up. The shirt was a short-sleeved one, showing off Ellie's tattooed arms and hints of muscle. She was working on building them up, but they were still formidable enough at the moment to silence most threats.

For most freshers, a night like tonight would be an opportunity to meet new people and have fun. Ellie wished she could be that person too, but she had something else on her mind - finding Mercedes and her posse, and beginning her revenge.

She saw the three of them there, standing together around their own private high table. The tables were meant to be communal, but Mercedes' reputation and her withering glares at anyone who dared approach meant they were left well alone.

Mercedes was dressed simply but effectively, clad in an elegant blue cocktail dress and heels that hugged her perfect figure beautifully. She was getting a lot of stares, and she intended to. In another life, Ellie knew she'd be staring with lust herself - as it was, she stared only with revenge in her eyes.

She cast her eyes to the two girls flanking Mercedes, girls she knew intimately from her detective work.

The first was Esme Lorrimer, who in many ways looked like a blonde copy of Mercedes. She was slightly taller, her face slightly more sculpted, and she was wearing a flowing black dress. If someone had told Ellie that Mercedes and Esme were sisters, she'd have believed them - they were that similar appearance-wise. They both came from wealth, but different forms of wealth - whereas Mercedes' wealth was inherited, Esme was the daughter of a CEO of a major perfume corporation.

The other girl was called Sophie Maxwell, a beautiful redhead in an emerald green jumpsuit and white trainers. There was something less refined about her - almost desperate to please - and Ellie knew exactly what it was. Sophie wasn't from wealth - her background was more akin to Ellie's, and she'd worked hard to make it here. Somehow, she'd fallen into Mercedes' circle, and now she flanked the rich girl.

The three of them looked like a perfect little clique together, made for nights like this.

Well, Ellie thought, their night was not going to go as planned.

Ellie sauntered over to the three girls, a smile on her face and confidence in her stride: "Good evening, Mercedes."

The reaction was just as she'd hoped - a grim expression came across Mercedes' face, as if she'd detected a bad smell that she couldn't quite shift. She looked at Ellie, annoyance in her eyes and condescension in her tone:

"Oh, fuck off, butch."

"Nice to see you too, Mercedes," Ellie smiled, expecting the hostile response.

Mercedes didn't acknowledge her, and the two girls to her side weren't certain what to do. Esme seemed to try and echo Mercedes' hostility, while Sophie opted for kindness.

"Are you a friend of Mercedes?" she asked, with a friendly smile that immediately riled Esme.

"What the fuck are you doing, Sophie? Can't you see Mercedes doesn't want to talk to her?"

"Maybe," Ellie shrugged her shoulder, "Mercedes can speak for herself. And let Sophie speak to who she wants to speak to, while you're at it."

Sophie blushed at the mention of her name - Esme's face went red too, but with fury.

"Who the fuck is this, Mercedes? Why does she think she can speak to us like this?"

"Like what?" Ellie asked, a casual tone to disguise the pleasant she took at the cracks showing so easily. "Like an equal?"

"An equal?" Mercedes laughed, her disinterested demeanour shattering at the absurdity of Ellie's question. "In what ways could we possibly be equal? A gutter dyke from the middle of nowhere comes here and she thinks she's on the same level as me! Look at you - you're like something from a fucking carnival, butch."

The jibe was intended to hurt, but it didn't - this time, Ellie knew what to expect, and she'd expected the insults would come.

"You know, Sophie," she said, ignoring the comment entirely, "I don't get why you hang around with them at all."

"What the fuck actually is this?" Esme demanded. "Who the hell are you?"

"Some fresher with ideas above her station," Mercedes said. "Can't you deal with this, Esme?"

She pretended to put up a disinterested front, but there was annoyance in her tone. Ellie picked up on it and, more important, so did Esme. She was clearly not used to falling foul of Mercedes, and there was a flash of panic in her eyes. Ellie tried not to smile when she saw it.

Sophie started, gently advising "it might be better for you to leave..." but Esme butted in:

"It might be better if you fuck right off, right fucking now."

Ellie stood there, amusement in her face.

"Are you sure, Esme?"

The blonde girl was not impressed at Ellie standing her ground. Obviously people would just roll over for her, just like they did every day of her life for the spoiled rich girl. Well, not today, Ellie thought.

She stood still, hands in her pockets, and ignored Esme entirely.

"Your lackey's not very convincing, Mercedes."

That did it. Esme marched over from behind the table, and furiously shoved Ellie backwards. She was expecting the confrontation, but not quite this - she fell to the ground, no damage really done by the soft grass.

"Fuck off!" Esme screamed, before she was conscious of people looking. She skulked back to Mercedes, who shot her a single glance. That side-eye said it all - Ellie was glad to see it, and glad to be the cause.

She looked to Sophie, who looked distinctly uncomfortable at what was going on.

"Hey, Sophie, lend me a hand up, would you?"

Hearing her name, Sophie snapped back to reality, and looked at Ellie with sympathy. She took a step forward out of instinct before she too caught Mercedes' eye, and suddenly froze. She stepped back to the table, embarrassment and shame on her face.

Mercedes didn't move - she remained at the table and glanced at Ellie.

"Take the hint, butch."

That was Mercedes' final word on the matter - she turned her attention to her phone, and started sending messages. Esme and Sophie were clearly lithe to leave it there, but they took Mercedes' lead and tried to ignore Ellie.

It didn't faze her - she simply clambered to her feet on her own, and turned to head off.

As Ellie walked away, the sound of the girls stewing like sweet music in her ears. She was happy to have caused a scene, but the real prize was the knowledge that she'd taken away.

It was as she expected. Mercedes, the alpha female. Esme, the mean girl keen to protect her position as number two and remain in Mercedes' good books. Sophie, the new girl and the butt of all the jokes. Both of Mercedes' girls were different, but she needed them both and both were clearly there so Mercedes could feel better about herself.

Suits me, Ellie thought - if she used these girls to reflect herself, Ellie could certainly use that too.

Now she knew what she was dealing with, she could figure out the best way to destroy Mercedes Alexander and make her the kind of gutter dyke she hated so much.

Let Mercedes and her clique have tonight, she thought.

Tomorrow, Ellie would start her revenge.

***

Ellie had planned out her attack perfectly. She needed to break into Mercedes' inner circle to get to her, and she'd already identified the weak link.

She knew that Sophie was new to the group, and she knew that Mercedes had taken her in with the intention of using her as a flunky - someone to compare herself too, and always favourably. Sophie was there to be put down, subject to scathing remarks about her background and her appearance, and she'd bear it because the benefits of being friends with someone like Mercedes Alexander seemed to outweigh the mental torture.

Maybe, when enough time had passed, Sophie would become a fully-fledged member of the group, and a new victim would come along to take her place.

Ellie didn't know, and she didn't overly care. All that mattered was, the moment she saw sympathy on Sophie's face the night of the party, she'd found her way in.

Still, she rationalised, what she was going to do would ultimately be very good for Sophie - she'd thank her for this in the long run, undoubtedly.

Ellie had been following the clique, both on social media and in-person, and she knew that Sophie would be on her own this afternoon - Mercedes would be at some event with the swimming team, and Esme had returned home for some reason she didn't specify. This left one member of the clique ripe for the taking, and it was just the one that Ellie wanted.