JASMINE ALLEY: THE BILL SLASH FICTION

Jasmine Alley : The Lockup : Viv Martella's Ghost : Not My Cup of Tea

Not my cup of tea
by Viv Martella's Ghost
Rating:         PG - very tame kissing between women
Disclaimer:     The characters Liz Rawton and Kerry Holmes do not
                belong to me, and the story refers to events that
                happened in episodes of The Bill that also do not
                belong to me.  I have made no profit of
                any kind from their use.
Spoilers:       Minor, for 'Follow Through'.
Feedback:       martellas_ghost@yahoo.com.au

Comments: This story was originally one small scene in a very long
steamy The Bill story that I started writing in 1999.  I am still
working on that story and hope to submit it for public viewing
eventually.  But I thought this story worked better as a stand alone
little thing, and submitted it to see what sort of feedback it would
get (if any) and to make myself write the other story faster.  There
seems to be a paucity of dyke TB slash out there and there really
should be more, because there is so much potential, and has been for
years, way before the arrival of PC Osbourne.

The story takes place soon after 'Follow Through'.



****************************************************************


Holmes was debriefing with Rawton over a whisky at the pub.  She had
been in prison for several days investigating a drug dealing racket
inside and she'd gotten to know some of her fellow prisoners fairly
well in a short time.

 "One of them came onto me," she said to Rawton, eyes wide.  "You
know, made a pass at me.  I mean, you hear about dykes in prison but I
didn't think I'd be there long enough to be on the receiving end of
it.  She wasn't bad looking, I s'pose.  Hardly my type, though."

She laughed.  Rawton looked at her, puzzled.

"I didn't know you were that way inclined, Kerry."

Holmes looked incredulous.

"I'm not," she said, dryly.

"Oh," said Rawton, unimpressed with Holmes' disrespect-bordering-on-
homophobia.  She wondered whether or not to tell Kerry about herself
or to wait for her to put her foot in it.

"If you could shag anyone in this room, who would it be?" asked
Rawton, lightening her tone.  Holmes scanned the room.  Her eyes
lingered on a young man with neat hair wearing expensive casual wear.
"Two o'clock, IC1, drinking a cocktail by the jukebox."

Rawton couldn't say she approved of her colleague's taste.

"You need to get out more."

Holmes laughed.  "You?"

Rawton's eyes swept from face to face, from body to body.

"Over there, by the bar.  Drinking a G and T."

All Holmes saw was a wiry 40 year old man having a fashion crisis.

"What, Mr Nightmare on Pastel Street?"

"Next to him."

Holmes searched for another G and T at the bar and found one, in the
hand of a leather clad young woman with a beautifully shaped, shaved
head.

"Ha ha ha," she said with sarcasm, but stopped when she realised that
Rawton was serious.  Rawton looked at Holmes expectantly.  Holmes was
immediately defensive.

"Liz, these are villains I'm talking about, it's not cos they were
women that I…"  She smiled sheepishly at Rawton.  "I'm sorry, Liz.  I
didn't know."

"You shouldn't have to know.  Maybe next time you won't be in such a
hurry to stick the boot in."

Rawton downed her whisky.

"Here, you can buy us another."

As Holmes slipped off to make amends, Rawton checked out the leather
woman again.  She looked like a dyke, in her solid boots and heavy
jewellery.  She seemed to be looking Rawton's way too.  I might have
something happening here, thought Rawton.  She had to prove she was
interested - and available.  That she wasn't, for instance, with
Kerry.  She decided not to waste any time.  She joined Holmes at the
bar.  Butting in front of Holmes, she handed the bar tender, a young
man, a score.

"I'll get those," she said.  "And I'd like to buy one for the lady at
the end of the bar there.  And have one yourself."

She winked at him and shot a shy glance at an intrigued Holmes.

"Don't mind if I do, love," said the man.  "We're getting married next
week."

Rawton was taken aback.

"What, you and her?"

"That's right.  We appreciate the cheer.  Ta."

He took the twenty.  Holmes was busy suppressing a chuckle.

"You say one word," said Rawton, picking up their
drinks and retreating to the table.

"Do you want me to work on the bloke for you?" Holmes laughed.  "I
wouldn't mind, he wasn't half bad."

Rawton smiled.  Actually, it wasn't a bad idea.

"Here's to couple busting," she said, clinking her glass against
Holmes'.

***

"I blame Sinead O'Connor," announced Rawton after a few more drinks.
"She made it trendy to be bald.  So all the straight girls picked up
on it and started doing it too.  So now you can't tell who's straight
and who's bent."

Holmes yawned.  "Do you have to be bald to be bent then?  You don't in
prison."

Rawton ignored the question.  "So what did you do with this woman you
met in prison?"

"Nothing, I told you."  Holmes was leaning on her elbow, eyes shut.
"It wouldn't exactly be ethical, would it?"

"Have you ever kissed a woman?"

"No," said Holmes, swilling Johnny Walker.

"And you don't feel you're missing out on anything?"

Rawton was even more brazen drunk than she was sober.

"No."  And Holmes was even more competitive.

"Haven't you ever thought about it?"

"Uh-uh."  Holmes shook her head and sucked on an ice cube.  Rawton sat
back in her seat.

"I don't believe you."

"Liz, come on, I'm straight.  What can I tell you?"

"How do you really know you're straight until you've tried it with a
woman?"

She tossed back her drink with a rapid movement of the hand.  "You lot
are always so insistent you're not queer.  But you've never given it
one moment's serious contemplation.  What makes you so sure?"

Holmes was never one to pass up a challenge.  She lifted her head.

"Right.  Let's see what you've got then.  Come on.  Try me."

She gestured with her eyebrows and grinned.  Rawton smirked.

"Come on, Kerry."  She gathered up her things.  "I'm too drunk for
this."

"You started it."  Holmes laughed to herself and followed Rawton into
the street.

"Shall we split a cab?"

Rawton nodded and hailed one.

"Croxton Road via Cartwright thanks."

The taxi sped into the night.  Rawton gazed out the window.  Holmes
watched her, thinking about what she'd said.  Rawton had been right
when she'd accused Kerry of never having thought about sex with women.
It would have been an unnecessary complication in Kerry's life.  She
had no need for it.  So she put it in the things-I-don't-have-time-for
basket, along with learning to waterski and giving up caffeine.  But
she wanted to prove to Rawton (and to herself) that her
heterosexuality wasn't based on homophobia.  She put a hand behind
Rawton's neck and leaned into her lips to kiss her.  Rawton was
startled but quickly recovered and kissed Holmes back, drunk and
curious.  She kisses like a straight girl, thought Rawton, no muscle.
She broke away from Holmes' mouth and pressed a wet kiss beneath her
ear.  The cabbie adjusted her mirror for a better view.  Holmes sighed
and slumped back in her seat.

"Mmm.  I can see why you like it," she said, truthfully.  "But it's
not my cup of tea.  Not right now, anyway."

"Maybe you just haven't met the right woman yet."

"Maybe."

The cab was approaching the end of Cartwright Street.

"Here's me," said Rawton.  "Pull over here, thanks."

They came to a halt.  Rawton thrust a couple of pound notes at Holmes.
"Don't worry, Liz.  This one's on me."  She blew a kiss at Rawton as
she got out of the cab.

Nah, thought Holmes as the taxi drove off.  The lesbian thing wasn't
for her.  She liked women too much.  There was a dynamic between women
and men that she enjoyed - a competitive power struggle that she found
thrilling and very erotic - that just wasn't present with women.  Liz
was her mate, they got on well, and that just killed any thoughts of
sex for Holmes.

Rawton, for her part, woke up the next morning with a pounding head
and thanked Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus that things hadn't gone
any further.  Choking up CID with lovers' dramas was not a good idea.
Besides, Kerry was nice, but there were too many spunky women out
there to waste her time converting straight girls.

Rawton sat back on her couch, cozy in her dressing gown and slippers,
and watched the sun rise over London through her living room window.
She sipped her cup of tea and smiled.

The End.


	Jasmine Alley : The Lockup : Viv Martella's Ghost : Not My Cup of Tea
		Not my cup of tea by Viv Martella's Ghost Rating: PG - very tame kissing between women Disclaimer: The characters Liz Rawton and Kerry Holmes do not belong to me, and the story refers to events that happened in episodes of The Bill that also do not belong to me. I have made no profit of any kind from their use. Spoilers: Minor, for 'Follow Through'. Feedback: martellas_ghost@yahoo.com.au Comments: This story was originally one small scene in a very long steamy The Bill story that I started writing in 1999. I am still working on that story and hope to submit it for public viewing eventually. But I thought this story worked better as a stand alone little thing, and submitted it to see what sort of feedback it would get (if any) and to make myself write the other story faster. There seems to be a paucity of dyke TB slash out there and there really should be more, because there is so much potential, and has been for years, way before the arrival of PC Osbourne. The story takes place soon after 'Follow Through'. ************************************************************** Holmes was debriefing with Rawton over a whisky at the pub. She had been in prison for several days investigating a drug dealing racket inside and she'd gotten to know some of her fellow prisoners fairly well in a short time. "One of them came onto me," she said to Rawton, eyes wide. "You know, made a pass at me. I mean, you hear about dykes in prison but I didn't think I'd be there long enough to be on the receiving end of it. She wasn't bad looking, I s'pose. Hardly my type, though." She laughed. Rawton looked at her, puzzled. "I didn't know you were that way inclined, Kerry." Holmes looked incredulous. "I'm not," she said, dryly. "Oh," said Rawton, unimpressed with Holmes' disrespect-bordering-on- homophobia. She wondered whether or not to tell Kerry about herself or to wait for her to put her foot in it. "If you could shag anyone in this room, who would it be?" asked Rawton, lightening her tone. Holmes scanned the room. Her eyes lingered on a young man with neat hair wearing expensive casual wear. "Two o'clock, IC1, drinking a cocktail by the jukebox." Rawton couldn't say she approved of her colleague's taste. "You need to get out more." Holmes laughed. "You?" Rawton's eyes swept from face to face, from body to body. "Over there, by the bar. Drinking a G and T." All Holmes saw was a wiry 40 year old man having a fashion crisis. "What, Mr Nightmare on Pastel Street?" "Next to him." Holmes searched for another G and T at the bar and found one, in the hand of a leather clad young woman with a beautifully shaped, shaved head. "Ha ha ha," she said with sarcasm, but stopped when she realised that Rawton was serious. Rawton looked at Holmes expectantly. Holmes was immediately defensive. "Liz, these are villains I'm talking about, it's not cos they were women that I…" She smiled sheepishly at Rawton. "I'm sorry, Liz. I didn't know." "You shouldn't have to know. Maybe next time you won't be in such a hurry to stick the boot in." Rawton downed her whisky. "Here, you can buy us another." As Holmes slipped off to make amends, Rawton checked out the leather woman again. She looked like a dyke, in her solid boots and heavy jewellery. She seemed to be looking Rawton's way too. I might have something happening here, thought Rawton. She had to prove she was interested - and available. That she wasn't, for instance, with Kerry. She decided not to waste any time. She joined Holmes at the bar. Butting in front of Holmes, she handed the bar tender, a young man, a score. "I'll get those," she said. "And I'd like to buy one for the lady at the end of the bar there. And have one yourself." She winked at him and shot a shy glance at an intrigued Holmes. "Don't mind if I do, love," said the man. "We're getting married next week." Rawton was taken aback. "What, you and her?" "That's right. We appreciate the cheer. Ta." He took the twenty. Holmes was busy suppressing a chuckle. "You say one word," said Rawton, picking up their drinks and retreating to the table. "Do you want me to work on the bloke for you?" Holmes laughed. "I wouldn't mind, he wasn't half bad." Rawton smiled. Actually, it wasn't a bad idea. "Here's to couple busting," she said, clinking her glass against Holmes'. * "I blame Sinead O'Connor," announced Rawton after a few more drinks. "She made it trendy to be bald. So all the straight girls picked up on it and started doing it too. So now you can't tell who's straight and who's bent." Holmes yawned. "Do you have to be bald to be bent then? You don't in prison." Rawton ignored the question. "So what did you do with this woman you met in prison?" "Nothing, I told you." Holmes was leaning on her elbow, eyes shut. "It wouldn't exactly be ethical, would it?" "Have you ever kissed a woman?" "No," said Holmes, swilling Johnny Walker. "And you don't feel you're missing out on anything?" Rawton was even more brazen drunk than she was sober. "No." And Holmes was even more competitive. "Haven't you ever thought about it?" "Uh-uh." Holmes shook her head and sucked on an ice cube. Rawton sat back in her seat. "I don't believe you." "Liz, come on, I'm straight. What can I tell you?" "How do you really know you're straight until you've tried it with a woman?" She tossed back her drink with a rapid movement of the hand. "You lot are always so insistent you're not queer. But you've never given it one moment's serious contemplation. What makes you so sure?" Holmes was never one to pass up a challenge. She lifted her head. "Right. Let's see what you've got then. Come on. Try me." She gestured with her eyebrows and grinned. Rawton smirked. "Come on, Kerry." She gathered up her things. "I'm too drunk for this." "You started it." Holmes laughed to herself and followed Rawton into the street. "Shall we split a cab?" Rawton nodded and hailed one. "Croxton Road via Cartwright thanks." The taxi sped into the night. Rawton gazed out the window. Holmes watched her, thinking about what she'd said. Rawton had been right when she'd accused Kerry of never having thought about sex with women. It would have been an unnecessary complication in Kerry's life. She had no need for it. So she put it in the things-I-don't-have-time-for basket, along with learning to waterski and giving up caffeine. But she wanted to prove to Rawton (and to herself) that her heterosexuality wasn't based on homophobia. She put a hand behind Rawton's neck and leaned into her lips to kiss her. Rawton was startled but quickly recovered and kissed Holmes back, drunk and curious. She kisses like a straight girl, thought Rawton, no muscle. She broke away from Holmes' mouth and pressed a wet kiss beneath her ear. The cabbie adjusted her mirror for a better view. Holmes sighed and slumped back in her seat. "Mmm. I can see why you like it," she said, truthfully. "But it's not my cup of tea. Not right now, anyway." "Maybe you just haven't met the right woman yet." "Maybe." The cab was approaching the end of Cartwright Street. "Here's me," said Rawton. "Pull over here, thanks." They came to a halt. Rawton thrust a couple of pound notes at Holmes. "Don't worry, Liz. This one's on me." She blew a kiss at Rawton as she got out of the cab. Nah, thought Holmes as the taxi drove off. The lesbian thing wasn't for her. She liked women too much. There was a dynamic between women and men that she enjoyed - a competitive power struggle that she found thrilling and very erotic - that just wasn't present with women. Liz was her mate, they got on well, and that just killed any thoughts of sex for Holmes. Rawton, for her part, woke up the next morning with a pounding head and thanked Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus that things hadn't gone any further. Choking up CID with lovers' dramas was not a good idea. Besides, Kerry was nice, but there were too many spunky women out there to waste her time converting straight girls. Rawton sat back on her couch, cozy in her dressing gown and slippers, and watched the sun rise over London through her living room window. She sipped her cup of tea and smiled. The End.

(c) Watching Since Woodentop 1996-2007