The Rehearsal

Great Yarmouth was "the place to be," according to the billboard. Grace Lawlor had been staring at it for quite some time, when she wasn't staring at her phone -- if you had to tell people it was a good place to come when they were already there, she thought, that might be a hint that you're wrong.

Grace would take any distraction she could get -- staring at her back-and-forth texts with Elly wasn't helping anybody. They'd met on Tinder just a few hours earlier and Elly, noting Grace's description of herself as "kinky as fuck" on her profile, had asked for her 'help.' Now, just a few short hours later, here Grace was, waiting for this stranger to arrive and pick her up. Where they'd go, she didn't know. What they'd do, well, she wasn't ready to think of anything which had been said on the app as guarantees. It was easy to say -- rather harder to do.

She stood on the pavement, facing the flat with the billboard, a petrol station behind her from which she'd got the Evian bottle she was clutching. Easy to get dehydrated. Cranes crowded the more distant sky, which was grey as old mashed potatoes, sunbeams struggling to get through. Grace really, really hoped Elly put her money where her mouth was. It was only a week before she left to start her master's degree and Elly left for some other university. There'd be no time for rescheduling or second chances. It was now or never -- and she wanted it to be now. After all, Elly, as far as her carefully curated five profile images indicated, was pretty hot. All Grace had to worry about was whether, given she was the experienced one with all the so-called help to offer, she needed to give off the dominant air befitting it. She wasn't sure she could quite manage to exude the dominatrix-ian authority required -- she wasn't even sure she was that kinky. This would be a test for both of them.

Play it chill, she kept reminding herself, as cars breezed past. Just play it chill. Come across like a normal person, if you can. Maybe even a cool one. Remember, she wants this -- she said she did. She wouldn't say she did unless she didn't. Unless she doesn't. Cars, buses, a cement mixer, all rumbled by.

"Is that her?" Grace would mutter at the sight of each approaching car -- it never was and she had to keep looking away lest drivers think she was staring at them. Maybe Elly wasn't coming. Of course she wasn't coming -- look at her.

Grace liked her body, sure -- slim, athletic, taller than average, a vaguely toned tummy that she worked self-destructively hard to keep that way, small breasts but perky enough -- but her face was the only part of it which was entirely visible to the world in this increasingly unseasonal pleated cherry-red summer dress flapping about around her knees and she wasn't so sure about that. She'd spent longer than usual at the mirror, carefully applying makeup, trying to hide the acne scars which still insisted on breaking through no matter how many layers she daubed on herself, trying to be as presentable as possibly for Elly. A gust of wind snaked up her dress and she shivered, wondering if dressing like this was a bit much -- she'd thought of changing her underwear, putting on something matching, something racier, but decided against it. Now she was just regretting not wearing gym shorts under her skirt.

There were things, though, that Grace couldn't alter at all. Her cheekbones were just a little too sharp, her face just a bit too angular, as if the sculptor who made her had chiselled too much away and had to compensate. Grace did her best with her hair -- it used to be much longer but now ended at her shoulders, bleached blonde for the summer and not yet bleached back to black, getting curlier the further down it went -- but she couldn't shake the feeling she needed to do better, whatever better was, that she'd only be presentable once she fixed herself in a thousand other ways. That mole over her eyebrow needed to go, for a start -- she kept putting it off.

Grace sighed, aware of how ridiculous she looked, stood at the road waiting for a hook-up. It must have been a picture of desperation -- was the chance of getting laid really worth this? In all likelihood, Elly had driven by, seen her, changed her mind, and kept driving. And if not, she would once they were in the car together and she heard Grace's gratingly posh voice. It was hard to believe that someone so unsure about herself was now called upon to be a teacher, even a mistress, in this way, but Grace supposed that was just the magic of Tinder.

Then, as another cold breeze gathered force to again rudely snake up Grace's dress, which she clung to in a bid to retain her modesty and not flash the traffic, coming in off the North Sea from which also drifted squawking gulls, a car came from around the houses. It was a Vauxhall Corsa, the colour of baked beans and rusty pipes, obviously second-hand or just unloved going by the dents and scratches, driving just a little bit too fast. Somehow, Grace knew this was th e one. She took a step forward, closer to the curb, watching it intently, hoping to be recognised and hoping not to look t o o much like a streetwalker, as her mum still called sex workers -- the headlights flashed, a sudden luminescence that almost startled her, before the Corsa turned into the petrol station without indicating and pulled up near her. Grace hurried over, passing a newspaper rack full of tabloid stories about a transgender soap actress and a footballer's dead wife, as the driver's window came down. So, she hadn't changed her mind just yet. Oh, God, her dress wasn't too short, was it?

Elly didn't look entirely like her photos -- she had the same sweet and innocent face, always pulling the same knowing smile, but the smile was a different one, now. It told of churning nerves and burning anxiety. Her hair was shorter, too -- in her pictures it was flowing and curly and falling to her shoulders. Now, it was a pixie cut, messy and unkempt as if she'd just woken up. Grace didn't mind -- it looked good and those big, almost excited blue eyes behind round glasses, the first thing Grace had spotted and the only thing she'd needed to swipe right, hadn't gone anywhere.

" Elly?" Grace asked, and the girl nodded, quickly. "Should I get in?" Elly looked around.

" I think I'll get in trouble if I park here." It was Grace's turn to nod and she opened the door -- or, rather, she tried to. Elly had forgotten to unlock them, and there was a nervous giggle as this was corrected. Then, Grace was sat down in a seat she had to adjust a fair bit to be comfortable, balancing her leather handbag on her lap, noting Elly had gone with a very different outfit -- a black t-shirt on an almost delicate, but still slightly pudgy (excellent), frame, some heavy metal band called Incorruptible Mages splashing their jagged logo across it, dark jeans, and even darker boots. Grace was pretty sure she was braless but was hardly going to look too closely. She had a home-made necklace on, adorned with colourful seashells, and Grace imagined her foraging along the Haven Seashore for each one.

" Better hurry," Grace joked, looking over her shoulder through the rear windscreen, seeing how full of old clothes and crushed cardboard boxes the rear seats were as she did. They wouldn't be ending up back there, she didn't think. Her hands were trembling. "That guy's looking at you."

"Hang on," Elly mumbled, her voice high and cute and almost unsteady, as she pulled down the handbrake. Then they were away down the A47, passing a KFC and a car showroom and a plumbing supplies warehouse and other thoroughly romantic scenery, Elly's phone plugged into the speakers and playing Kate Bush as they went.

Grace realised, suddenly, that she wasn't speaking. They were just driving to nowhere in particular. Despite, apparently, being the sub in this equation, Elly had the bravery to break the silence.

"So, where am I going?" she asked, as they passed a bath enamel repair business. Grace didn't even know such a thing existed. Maybe they'd both be learning things today.

" I've no idea," Grace admitted. "Maybe... my place?" Even after the things they'd said to each other online, just saying that felt risky. Oh, it was so unfair. Now they were face to face it felt different. It became real. All the energy had dissipated. Elly rolled her tongue about in her mouth.

"I was thinking, maybe, we could just park up first and talk?" she asked, speaking carefully, nerves on her soft- looking pink lips. She turned onto a roundabout, a pair of magpies prancing across its island, again failing to indicate.

" About what?"

"You know, just, stuff." Grace nodded.

"Okay, yeah, sure," she said, unsure exactly what Elly meant but ready to give her whatever she needed if it meant leading her into bed, adjusting in the seat and wondering if she ought to hike up her dress a little, further past her knees, just to see if Elly would look. She didn't do it.

As Kate Bush transitioned to Papa Don't Preach, Elly following a vintage Jaguar into the Sainsbury's car park, stopping the car near the recycling units. Oblivious shoppers wandered back and forth outside as she shut the engine off and the car fell silent -- Grace felt the nerves bubbling away in her belly. Her mouth felt dry no matter how much of the Evian bottle she sipped from -- she tried to resist the urge to lick her lips too often. Elly might misinterpret it. She wanted to tell her how excited she was. That might be a good start.

"I like your hair," was, instead, what came out of her mouth. Grace tried to keep a straight face and not crumple up in embarrassment. She had a persona to maintain. Elly's hand went, perhaps instinctively, to feel the hair she'd complimented.

"Thanks," she mumbled, smiling sweetly. "I got it cut yesterday. I think it's more 'me'."

"It's nice," agreed Grace.

"I like your..." She paused for long enough, her eyes going up and down Grace's body, that Grace could only break the tension with laughter.

"It's okay if you can't think of anything," she sniggered, and Elly grinned.

"That's not what I mean," she laughed back, and Grace was delighted to see her lick her lips. It was happening to her, too. She felt the same way! Maybe this wouldn't be a total disaster.

"So, what's it you want to talk about, then?" Grace asked. Outside, someone carried a screaming child back to their car, and Elly's eyes followed them.

"I hate kids," she muttered, as Papa Don't Preach became something which might have been Peter Gabriel but might not have been.

"Me too. That's why I became a lesbian." Elly grinned -- her smile was so sweet. Like she was always trying to fight it off but never quite succeeding.

"I thought it'd be good just to... I guess, just figure out what we're gonna do," she said, finally. Grace cocked her head.

"I thought we'd already figured it out," she replied.

"Yeah, but I just wanna talk about it face to face."

"Okay, I get you," said Grace. This was a good idea, so good she was annoyed for not thinking of it herself. "I guess it's easy to say stuff on Tinder and then meet up and not wanna do it. Maybe now we're face to face we actually know what we want."

"Yeah," said Elly, nodding, almost grimacing.

"And you know we don't have to do anything, right?" asked Grace, quickly. "There's no pressure from me. I know what it's like to get strong-armed into something you're not ready for."

"No, I..." Elly glanced out the windscreen, as if fearing someone might be eavesdropping. "...I wanna do something. I just wanna figure out what."

"Well..." said Grace, her mind working as fast as it could, trying to keep Elly comfortable while trying to fight back that selfish part of the mind that just wants to reach out and take whatever it wants. Elly was entitled to go at her pace. Not Grace's. "Where's your mind going, right now?" Elly sat there for a moment, mulling the question over, until she spoke.

"I want to have sex," she said, as if it were a sharp expulsion of breath, like she really did need to spit it out, as they say. Grace's groin tightened -- she tried not to press her thighs together any more than they already were.

"Okay," she said, casual as you could. "Cool." Their eyes met and they both broke into nervous giggles.

"Oh my God," Elly said, her head falling back onto the seat's headrest, closing her eyes, putting her hands together over her forehead. "I'm not normally like this."

"It's okay," Grace giggled, still. "It's new. It's exciting."

"Yeah," Elly replied, licking her lips again. "I mean... I've already told you. How, like, I go to uni in a couple weeks, but I've never done anything. I had my first kiss like a year ago and that's it. It wasn't even a girl. Just some boy I didn't even like. And I just really wanna see what it's like before I go. Get some experience and then I can go to uni and I know what I am, I hope."

"Are you thinking of meeting a boy, too?"

"Uh-uh," she said. "I'm like... eighty percent sure I'm gay. That's why I've never done anything, I think. Partly, anyway. Most people're straight. Most people in my school definitely were."

"I understand," Grace said. "I came out when I was fifteen and nothing happened for me until uni."

"Really?"

"Yeah." She grinned. "So you could be losing your v-card earlier than I did, if you want." Elly laughed.

"That's pretty cool, I guess."

"So, when you say sex, what do you mean?" Grace's palms felt sweaty. Relax, damn it, she told herself. Any more of this and Elly will be able to hear your beating heart from the other side of the car! They'll hear it in Sainsbury's! "Just cause... well, I don't want something to happen that you don't like."

"Yeah." Elly thought, for a second. "I think just whatever the mood takes us to. I guess. Is that okay?"

"That's fine," said Grace, smiling. "I thought you'd want to lay out a game plan."

"I don't have a bullet pointed list," Elly sniggered. "I just wanna make sure I know how it'll work just, like, generally."

"Right. Do you know the traffic light system?"

"No?"

"It's a way of doing safewords. So if you say 'red,' the other person stops everything they're doing. 'Yellow' means chill out. 'Green' means keep going. It's usually for, like, kink, but we can use it too, who's gonna stop us? That sound like a good system?"

"Yeah, I like that," Elly agreed, nodding eagerly. "Let's do that. That'd make me feel safe."

"And where are we gonna do it, do you think?" asked Grace, looking around, as if one of the cars surrounding them was available. "Probably not in a lay-by. Unless you want to."

"You said something about your place?"

"Yeah, it's out in Bradwell, if that's alright?" Elly nodded.

"That's okay. Is anyone home?"

"Just the cat." Grace grinned -- so did Elly.

"I'd say for us to go to mine, but my gran's in and she's super right-wing. My bedroom door doesn't even have a lock and I'd be mortified if we got caught." Grace's mind filled with imagery of the two of them, naked and tangled together like a pair of elastic bands, staring at an old woman stood in the doorway and staring back at them behind horn-rimmed glasses. It still turned her on. Oh, man, she really hoped Elly didn't back out at the last second. It'd happened to her before -- and she wanted this girl. She wanted her like a shark wants blood.

"How do you not have a lock?" Grace sniggered, and Elly shrugged.

"I thought I was a big girl. I guess not."

"I guess not, too," Grace agreed. Suddenly, there came a bang at the window, and they both jumped -- a petrol station employee, with a scraggly beard and a high-visibility jacket, was knocking on the window.

"You need to move!" he shouted. "This ain't a car park!"

"Sorry! Sorry!" Elly cried, and he walked back inside as she fumbled with her keys in an adorably startled sort of way. Grace watched as she glanced to her wing mirror before moving to turn the ignition, before an idea burst in her head like a firecracker. It was risky. It was stupid. It was just plain bad. But she really wanted to do it.

"Hang on," she said, and Elly glanced at her. That gave Grace enough time to lean forward and, with a hand on Elly's cheek, kiss her.

She kissed insistently, deeply, nose bumping Elly's glasses, and Elly almost whimpered in surprise. She responded timidly, letting Grace take her, kissing back in a shy and unsure way. Her lips felt as soft as they looked and, slowly, Elly got into the rhythm, pushing back, a newfound eagerness taking hold, her hand falling onto Grace's thigh and even daring to squeeze it a little, as they tasted each other. Their breaths were hard, graceless, almost embarrassing, and neither particularly cared, as Grace bit down on Elly's bottom lip and Elly let out an inelegant, delighted mewl. Grace started to think Elly may have brushed her teeth right before setting off to pick her up. How thoughtful of her...

Eventually, regrettably, they had to pull away. Grace did first, opening her eyes to find Elly's still closed, as if frozen in time, just for a moment, before they reopened and looked brighter than ever.

"I think I'm gonna enjoy you," Grace whispered, hand still on Elly's cheek, and Elly looked back with those big, pretty eyes which darted from Grace's eyes to her lips and back again.

"Me too," she almost squeaked.

The drive to Grace's house wasn't too long but it felt like forever, each set of traffic lights a personal insult, and the pair said little through the drive, being far too consumed by their bubbling excitement. Grace couldn't stop imagining the things she might get to do with this pretty little thing, what surprises she might find under Elly's clothes, what noises would come out of her. She wondered what Elly was thinking about -- hopefully, even if this was new for her, something close to the very same thing.

This adventure was, in a certain way, new for Grace, too. Hookups were old hat, sure, but she'd only been someone's 'first' once before -- in her second undergraduate year, hosting a house party in Sheffield, she'd struck up a conversation with one of the Chinese students who'd shown up. Emma, Grace thought her name was, probably, skinny, skin pale like porcelain, in a tight black dress, and not all that sure about the party at all. She'd spent most of the night stood in the corner, clutching a bottle she wouldn't drink, not saying a word. Grace's influence, naturally, altered that -- the memories of the night began to spin, then vanish, reappearing at intermittent intervals, as shot after shot of Scotch whiskey is downed. Then come memories of their lips together, of Emma so eager she surprises both of them, of Grace reaching round and squeezing Emma's firm rear. Then, they're in bed, on top of the covers, and Grace's face is buried between Emma's thighs and Emma's hands are holding the back of her head, pushing it down, wailing in delight, then Grace is on her front, moaning softly, trying not to be too loud with the party still raging outside her door as she feels Emma's hands pull her cheeks apart and her tongue slide into her.

The next day, Emma was gone, though having forgotten her pants -- a tangled up mess of cyan lace which had somehow ended up between two of Grace's textbooks, and when Grace tried to get hold of her to return them, Emma never responded. She ended up throwing them out, hidden in an empty box of Cheerios, and never heard from that particular acquaintance again. This, hopefully, would be a little easier to remember.

After not too long, they came into Bradwell, a dreary suburb of Great Yarmouth indistinguishable from any other, and Elly slowed as they journeyed down Griffiths Road.

"You can see why I'm trying to leave," Grace muttered, rubbing her fingers along her palm to try and reduce at least some of the sweating.