Gone Fishing.

Jacqueline staggered along the lake bank under the weight of her fishing tackle, pausing to wipe a sheen of perspiration from her brow with the back of her hand. It was just half past ten in the morning but, even so early, the June sunlight blazed in a cloudless azure sky, searing the parched Lincolnshire countryside already scorched by the unusual heat wave of the past two weeks. Jacqueline turned to watch Susan, struggling ill-humouredly and muttering unladylike remarks under an even greater burden, some twenty yards behind her. Jacqueline grinned; delighted as always by the sight of her irrepressible and bewitching lover and loving her immensely. Susan wasn’t a girl that did things by half. Her contribution to the day’s efforts consisted of a reclining bed chair, an enormous bag, a gargantuan picnic hamper and, God bless her, a blasted ice box! She might have been intending to camp out on the lakeside for the next fortnight for the lack of any suggestion to the contrary.
Susan eased the straps of her bags off her shoulder and glared at Jacqueline. “Where the hell are you taking me Jackie?” she demanded to know petulantly. “”How much further do we have to sodding well walk?”
“Just another couple of hundred yards more sweetheart; past those trees over there.”
“Bloody hell! Why couldn’t we have found a place near the car?”
Jacqueline raised an eyebrow. “A little too public for our purposes today don’t you think darling? We’ll be nice and private once we get past those trees.”
“Christ! If I’d known we were setting off on a major trek like this I’d have hired a pair of fucking Sherpas!”
“Stop griping! Nobody said you had to bring all that bloody stuff with you!”
“Hey it could be a special day Jackie. We have to do the thing in style.”
“It’s only one guy we’re looking for Suzie,” Jacqueline pointed out, “Not the whole frigging fishing club!”
Susan pulled a face. “This guy better be here after all this. If I find I’ve lugged all this crap half way across Lincolnshire only to find out that the bloody bloke hasn’t even turned up I’m going to stuff one of your fishing poles up your arse!”
Jacqueline laughed. “He’ll be there. Don’t worry.”
Susan shouldered her bags once more in determination. “Next time we’ll bring a train of baggage elephants. Go on then! Lead on Memsaab!”
At least Susan had no complaints about the spot that Jacqueline had chosen for the day. The little spot by a secluded corner of the lake was charming. A gentle grassy slope, studded with meadow flowers, bathed in the sunlight by the waters of the lake where a little wooden fishing platform jutted out into the water over a margin of reed beds and compact rafts of flowering yellow water lilies. The trees and bushes formed a perfect barrier to prying eyes and would have been an equally perfect windbreak had there been but a breath of wind to warrant it. But there was no wind. The lake lay like a sheet of silvered glass, its surface rippled only by the lazy passage of mallards and coots and the occasional rising fish. There were warblers singing from the boughs of the huge Weeping Willow, arching out from the lake bank and trailing its shoots in the placid water, and a cuckoo was calling dolefully from the poplars behind them. The air was redolent with the aroma of wild flowers and, somewhere in the distance, the faint rattling of an ancient tractor was the only man made sound to disturb the rural tranquillity of this idyllic corner of England.
Jacqueline laid her bag and fishing box down on the wooden fishing platform, hefted her rod holdall from her shoulder and turned to watch Susan’s preparations. The beautiful little corner had restored Susan’s morale immeasurably. She was humming to herself contentedly as she set up camp in the grass a few feet from the lakeside; laying out her bed chair, a large blanket and even, as Jacqueline observed in disbelief, a little low folding camping table which she arraigned alongside her bed chair with plates, utensils and glasses. Jacqueline watched her with the usual hopeless love that had been the familiar accompaniment to her days ever since this extraordinary woman had first come into her life a little over two years ago. This was love then; just the sheer pleasure of watching your beloved do something as mundane as rummage about in a picnic hamper and never tire of the sight of it.
Jacqueline considered herself blessed. That she should fall in love with the beautiful little blond girl with her cute nose and mischievous and ever twinkling blue eyes was understandable. That the beguiling little imp should love her equally in return was so astonishing that it left her bereft of breath. That such a thing should happen to her seemed almost cosmic in its consequences to Jacqueline and she could never, even two years later, still quite believe that she could have been so graced that it had happened to her. Susan had moved in with her nearly two years ago and the days since then had been full of a joy and fulfilment such as Jacqueline had never known before. Jacqueline had once read about something called “lesbian bed death”; a condition it seemed that was common among long term lesbian couples when the ardour had faded from their sex lives and was replaced by a simple warm companionship. Well it hadn’t happened to them yet! Warm companionship they did have but they were still as greedy for each other as they had been the first night they had hungrily dragged each other into bed in a cheap hotel room in Cleethorpes and, given Susan’s insatiable appetite, it seemed that they would be keeping the neighbours awake and setting their dogs barking for a long time to come yet! And now of course there were new adventures to plan and this was the time of the month to do it.
Susan had opened her icebox and pulled something out thoughtfully. “Should I open this now or save it for later?”
Jacqueline blinked. “Please don’t tell me that you’ve brought a bottle of bloody Dom Perignon with you!”
Susan grinned happily. “If a thing’s worth doing it’s worth overdoing!” she intoned.
“Oh God! What are you like? Don’t you think it’s a little premature to be opening the bloody champagne?”
Susan nodded seriously in agreement. “Well perhaps you’re right. We’ll save it then; to toast our success hopefully.”
“Well you can toss me a can of beer in the meantime. Bloody champagne gives me wind anyway!”
“Yes darling. Don’t drink too much though. You’re driving home.”
Jacqueline popped open the ring pull and the can and took a deep draft gratefully. The day was hot and the beer, icy cold and refreshing. Susan removed a flask from the icebox and poured herself a glass of some orange liquid. “What the hell is that?” asked Jacqueline in bemusement.
“Tequila, orange juice and a dash of Grenadine.” Susan told her. “It’s supposed to be tequila sunrise but it’s sort of got shaken up in transit.”
“God! Have you got a whole mobile bar in there?”
“Just a little something to fortify myself for the tasks ahead.”
“Why? Are you nervous?”
Susan pondered for a second before shrugging. “Not really. I’m not scared of men. I was married to one of the bastards for over three years if you recall!” Jacqueline winced. Susan had still been married the night they had taken that hotel room in Cleethorpes. The divorce had been messy. “You’re the one more likely to be nervous I would have thought.” Susan continued, “I mean you’re not exactly very worldly when it comes to the opposite sex are you?”
“I’m not entirely without experience Suzie! I didn’t come out until I was at uni. I even had a bloody boyfriend in my first year at York!”
Susan grinned and her eyebrows lifted in interest. “Oh really? You’ve never mentioned this before! Do tell.”
Jacqueline shuffled uncomfortably. “There’s nothing much to tell really. I was pretty messed up still trying to come to terms with being gay and scared to death anyone would find out. Going out with a boy was camouflage as much as anything; trying to appear straight.”
“Was he nice?”
Jacqueline nodded thoughtfully “Yes I suppose he was a pretty decent guy. Actually he was the very first person I ever told I was gay.”
“Oh God! Did he flip out?”
Jacqueline shook her head. “No not really. Oh sure he was a bit upset and sad but when he came to terms with it he was very understanding and sympathetic about it.”
Susan laughed shortly. “Good grief! A caring and sensitive man! Are you sure he wasn’t taking oestrogen or something?”
“Not all men are arseholes Suzie! We stayed friends for the rest of my time at uni and he was a sight more understanding and considerate than the bitch I dated in my second year!”
Susan took a sip of her drink. “I suppose you’re right. Some men are acceptable as long as they bathe regularly, mind their manners and keep their mouths shut when there’s anything important to be said. Still they seem a little redundant to requirements sometimes. I can’t think of anything more useless than the average male!”
Jacqueline snorted. “I hate to point this out at this juncture my darling but they do have some fundamental use. Until the human race perfects the art of parthenogenesis we are more or less stuck with them for their input for the purpose of propagating the species!”
Susan giggled and nodded to acknowledge the justice of Jacqueline’s remarks. “You’re right honey. Today of all days I shouldn’t be down on the male of the species. I just have bad experiences of them. I suppose most men are alright just so long as I never have to live with one of them again.”
Jacqueline raised an eyebrow. “Suzie darling, with a bit of luck, there’s a fifty-fifty chance we might be obliged to live with one and that for a very long time!”
“That’s different!” Susan smiled to herself. “So this boy in York… did you sleep with him?”
Jacqueline blushed. “Well yes…a few times.”
Susan raised her eyebrows in interest. “A few times?”
“Well I suppose so… maybe half a dozen or so.”
“You are a dark one! You’ve never told me about this before!”
Jacqueline shuffled in embarrassment. “Well I told you it was before I was out. I was still in the closet and agonising about my sexuality. I just sort of ended up sleeping with the boyfriend because that’s what straight girls were expected to do at university.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“What was it like you muppet? I mean did you enjoy it or anything. Come on let’s have some details!”
Jacqueline ran a hand through her short dark hair uncomfortably. “Well… it was… well alright I suppose.”
“Alright?”
“Yeah… sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“Well yes I suppose so.”
Susan groaned and rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. “God it’s like trying to get blood out of a stone. Come on you can do better than that. Let’s have the sordid details! I mean how did it rank up? What exactly did you do? How did he compare? Was it as much fun as with a girl?”
“I didn’t exactly have any basis for comparison at that time Suzie! I was a scared little closeted dyke and my sexual experience at that time was limited to trying peer up my art teacher’s skirt to catch a glimpse of her knickers when she sat on her desk and joining the girl’s hockey team!”
Susan laughed delightedly. “Oh God! The hockey team?”
Jacqueline smiled ruefully. “Yeah I know! Girls’ boarding school, bloody hockey team; it’s a fucking cliché isn’t it? I wouldn’t mind but I was crap at hockey! I couldn’t play to save my life! I just liked to ogle the girls in the dressing room and showers.”
“So you never got to bully off then as it were?”
Jacqueline shook her head. “No way! I was too scared. Oh I daresay there were a couple of girls there that were that way inclined. Our goalkeeper fancied me I’m sure but she was built like a Russian weight lifter and started shaving before most boys do! She scared the shit out of me! The one I really had a crush on was the team captain. She was gorgeous! I remember one day I scored a goal…God knows how! It must have been a fluke. The captain came and patted me on the backside to congratulate me and I nearly peed myself! I didn’t so much as wash my knickers that night as wring them out!”
“So schoolgirl crushes aside was there anybody else?”
“No. I was pretty repressed in those days.”
“Oh my God! Are you saying then that this guy in York took your cherry?”
Jacqueline blushed to the roots of her hair. “I… I suppose so.” Jacqueline ventured hesitantly. “I hadn’t slept with anyone until then; boy or girl.”
Susan shook her head in amusement. “My God! Who would have believed it? But you enjoyed it then?”
“In a way. It wasn’t so bad but I didn’t think it was all it was cracked up to be. I mean he was gentle with me.” Jacqueline laughed. “God! Listen to me; a fucking blushing virgin! Anyway it wasn’t so bad. I mean I didn’t actually find it repulsive or disgusting. It just sort of left me feeling that there should be more to it. Well there was more to it but I didn’t find that out until the first time I slept with a girl. Then it was all bells ringing, lights flashing and the full fireworks display and I stopped pretending to be straight.”
Susan nodded sagely. “Well your past experiences might come in useful today so I hope you took on board your extra-curricular studies in your first year at uni. You need to get a bit hetero today.”
Jacqueline sighed and shook her head. “We’ll see. Anyway I’m going to set up my fishing gear.”
“You mean you’re actually going to do some fishing?”
“Of course! We have to maintain some sort of credible appearance honey. Anyway it might be some time before we get a nibble from the big one so I have to have something to while away the time while we’re waiting.”
“Well suit yourself just as long as you don’t get too involved in your fishes and forget about the big trophy we’re trying to land.”
“Don’t worry darling. I’ll keep my eye on the prize.” Jacqueline slid her fishing rod out of her holdall and took the rod from its bag, stroking the smooth carbon of the blank lovingly. It was an old rod but still her favourite; a fourteen foot float rod that her grandfather had given her when he taught her to fish as a young girl. Jacqueline had loved the old man and the days she’d spent with him by lake and riverside were the happiest memories of her childhood. He’d passed away when she was just a teenager and that loss still stung in bitter sweetness. As she stroked the rod lovingly she could still hear his gruff voice and deep chuckle; still smell the aromatic tobacco he always smoked in his old pipe and remember his gentleness and wisdom.
“You do that very well.” Susan observed with a giggle, “Stroke that pole I mean. It shows that you must have had some experience of it!”
Jacqueline shook the blank at her. “One more remark like that young lady and I’ll throw you in this bloody lake!”
Susan giggled happily. “Now, now! Wouldn’t that scare all your little fishies away?”
“Hmmph! I might just content myself with putting you over my knee and spanking your backside until you squeal for mercy!”
Susan’s eyes lit up gleefully. “That’s more like it! Sounds a hell of a lot more fun than trying to stick a bloody great hook in the mouth of some fish that’s never done you any harm in its life.”
Jacqueline shook her head and sighed; reminding herself why she so rarely ever took Susan fishing with her. “Look just go play with yourself while I tackle up, ok Suzie.”
Susan nodded as if the suggestion was a serious one. “Yes I suppose I’d better get stripped down for action.” With that Susan lifted her dress over her head revealing the tiny, hot pink bikini beneath doing an altogether wretched job of concealing her modesty. Jacqueline paused in the action of fitting the sections of her rod together to admire the lithe curvaceous body of her lover. Susan was an unrepentant sun worshipper. Her body was deeply tanned. During the recent heat wave she had spent hours in the back garden, laid out on her bed-chair wearing even less than she was currently attired in. There was, Jacqueline knew, a thin wisp of paler flesh as a result of the bikini bottom she wore as a sop to the sensibilities of outraged neighbours but her full firm breasts were tanned an even biscuit brown all over. Mr Gilberdyke, next door, had spent an unnecessary amount of time trimming the garden hedges over the past two weeks it seemed.
Jacqueline raised an eyebrow. “How much did you say you paid for that bikini?”
“Eighty five quid.”
“You were robbed! There’s bugger all of it!” Susan put on her sunglasses and reclined back in her bed-chair, poking her tongue out at Jacqueline; content that she had set her stall out for the day. Jacqueline smiled and turned her attention back to her fishing tackle. She fastened a reel to the grips on the rod butt and passed the thin monofilament line through the eyes on the rod. From her tackle box she selected a long thin red tipped float and connected it to the line by the bottom ring only. Her preparations were interrupted by the sound of music. Susan had turned on her CD player and was humming along to what sounded like Lady Gaga. Normally Jacqueline disliked music disturbing the peace when in the countryside fishing but she tolerated it today. Mercifully Susan had the volume low.
Jacqueline spent some time plumbing the depth of the water in front of her and adjusting her rig carefully. She was intent on using her favourite still water system called the lift method which she’d read had originally been invented by some now deceased angler called Fred J Taylor back in the nineteen sixties. It was a simple method but it took some fiddling around to balance it correctly. At the end of her line she attached a size twelve barbless hook and positioned a single weight a couple of inches from it. The float she fixed to the line at a distance above the depth of the water so that when the line was slack it floated on its side. As she tensioned the line to her rod tip however it cocked up against the drag of the weight on the bed of the lake and with further tension she could pull it down until just the red tip was visible at the water surface. Any fish picking up the bait would disturb the balance of the rig and cause the float to rise out of the water. It was a deadly and effective method her grandfather had shown her and she was expert at it. Jacqueline loved her fishing and took it seriously, much to the amusement of Susan who thought the whole thing ridiculous but nevertheless tolerated her girlfriend’s passion.
Once satisfied with her rig, Jacqueline reached into her tackle box and pulled out some bait tins.