Equals

Warning #1: This story includes themes of humiliation and (light) non-consent. If this offends you, please stop reading now.

Warning #2: There is not much "action" in this story. I like reading action-packed stories and I plan to write some, but sometimes I want to read something that gets deeper into the psychology of submission as I understand it.

Ruth's phone began to ring as she was coming down the steps with the next load of washing. It would be Shona, of course; she always rang at the worst times. It was starting to get annoying. Ruth struggled over to the laundry table, put the basket down, allowed herself a sigh, and picked up. "Hi Shone," she said, keeping her voice bright.

"Hey girl, whatcha doin'?"

"Well I'm actually, like, knee-deep in--"

"Cos I was thinking we should head down to The Lamb tonight, like we were talking about earlier, remember?" Like

she

was talking about, more like. There was some guy, apparently.

"Look I'm really sorry but I actually can't, I've got a mountain of stuff to do," Ruth said, looking around the room at the literal mountain of clothes to be sorted, washed, dried, ironed. And there was still the bathroom, and the bedrooms. Thank God for the slow-cooker, quietly taking care of dinner all by itself.

"Huh? You know that essay isn't due till, like,

June

."

"Not uni work, Shone. Housework. Gotta get my clothes clean, you know." Close enough to the truth.

"Well can't you do it later?

Andrew's

gonna be there tonight, and he's probably gonna bring his friend along, seems like a good opportunity don't you think? 'Dan' or something. I don't know what he's like but, you know, cute guys tend to hang around other cute guys, so I was thinking--" She just went on and on.

"Yeah, look I really can't, sorry. It's not just washing, I've still got the bedrooms to do, and the bathroom--"

Shit.

Ruth's mouth snapped shut as soon as she realised, but it was already out there. Had Shona heard it? Maybe she hadn't. Please, God, let there be a glitch on the line!

"

Bedrooms

? Uh, how many of those do you have, darling?"

Shit. Fuck.

Ruth's mind spun. "Yeah, so... Lauren asked me to... help her tidy her room... There's a flat inspection tomorrow. She's got a lot on at the moment, so I said I'd help her. That's all. Mine needs doing too, of course! That's all."

"Another flat inspection already? I thought you had one a couple of weeks ago."

"Yeah." Ruth didn't know what else to say. Thank God Shona couldn't see her face.

There was a pause at the other end. Ruth bit her lip.

Come on, Shone, let this go.

"And the washing, is it all yours?"

Shit.

She should tell her. She was already suspicious; now was the time to do it. Get it off her chest. But she wouldn't understand. She just wouldn't. "Yes," Ruth said, and the moment she said it she knew it sounded false. Where was the indignation in her voice, the exasperation?

There was silence at the other end for a long moment, and Ruth realised with horror that Shona was choosing her next words carefully. Shona never chose her words carefully.

"Ruth, I'm-- I've noticed a pattern."

"No!" She tried not to say it, but somehow it just slipped out. So stupid!

"I saw you hanging out volleyball uniforms on the line. One day I came over to see if you wanted to come and study with me in the library, and I knocked on the door but there was no answer, so I went around the back and-- saw you there with a pile of those uniforms, hanging them out. I know you don't play volleyball, Ruth. Beth, Lauren and Kelly do though. You were hanging them so carefully... It was weird, Ruth. It felt weird to me. You hadn't seen me so I just kinda backed away and left without saying anything. I didn't really think about it after that, I just pretended nothing had happened really, but now--"

What? It wasn't weird! Shona was making it sound like it was weird, but it wasn't. "They're my

friends

, Shone! We're

friends.

I do things for my friends sometimes."

"Uh-huh. I saw Lauren last night, at The Lamb. Like she is almost every night. She was bragging about how she gets Kenny Simms to do all her history essays, and some other guy to do the English Lit ones. And I've seen how she treats you, how all those girls do, and it just-- I'm just concerned--"

"

Concerned?

Oh yeah? About what? That I might finally be in with the in-crowd? Is that it? That I might finally be getting just a little bit popular? Cos that's how it sounds to me!"

But Shona remained maddeningly calm. "That they're using you. They aren't better than you, Ruth. Just cos they're 'popular' or... whatever. That doesn't mean anything. You don't have to do all this stuff for them just to--"

But it wasn't like that at all. At all. "That's got nothing to do with it! They wash mine too you know!" Ruth was shaking and her throat was tight. She was breathing hard. "Sometimes. If I can't, because I--" She swallowed. "If I'm out somewhere." She pursed her lips together tightly, grateful that Shona couldn't see her face. But why

wouldn't

she be out somewhere? It could happen. And her housemates would lend her a helping hand. They were friends, after all. It could totally happen.

Another pause. "Ruth, are you..." Shona's tone was different this time: tentative, questioning. "I mean, don't be offended, but those girls are all... Do you, um... It's just that I've never seen you with a guy, and..." Shona's voice trailed off. For a moment Ruth didn't catch on.

Then it hit her like a train. How dare she! Just because there wasn't a stream of guys constantly drooling on her didn't mean she

liked girls

, those two things aren't even related! And it's not like Shona was anything to look at herself, with her stupid close-together eyes and her toothpick legs. Big tits were all she had! She was just lucky that big tits were always in demand. And even then, it's not like they were getting her the attention of top-tier guys, oh no. Mostly creeps and weirdos. Ruth would rather not have those guys looking at her anyway.

Fucking bitch.

Fuming, she jabbed her finger into the phone screen as hard as she could, wishing it was an old landline handset so she could slam it down like they did in movies.

And they're not even that big, just widely spaced!

Ruth was still breathing hard when she heard someone coming down the steps, and instantly she remembered: Beth's practice. Panicking, she checked her phone: 5:38pm, nowhere near enough time. Idiot! She began ironing the first load as quickly as she could while the washing machine chugged through the second. She knew it made no real difference, but maybe if Beth saw how hard she was working, she would take it easy. You never knew with Beth.

"So? Is my tracksuit ready?" The laundry ceiling was low, and Beth's head nearly touched it.

"Um, well..."

"I told you practice is at seven today. I told you at lunch."

"I know, Beth, I just..."

Beth waited.

"I just somehow got mixed up, and... forgot," Ruth finally managed, turning red at the weakness of her own excuse. "I'm sorry, Beth, I'm really sorry. I value your friendship and I want you to know that I--" But Beth's face had that look.

Beth said nothing. Her face was hard in the dim light of the laundry. Ruth put down the iron and then picked it up again, before putting it down a second time. She looked down at the floor, then back up at Beth's face. She was never sure where to look at times like this -- every possibility seemed to convey either weakness or disrespect. Why couldn't she ever seem to behave like a normal person when it counted?

Beth's face relaxed into a warm smile. "Luckily, I have another one!" Ruth was so distraught that she didn't understand at first. "Another tracksuit! For exactly this kind of thing. So it's no big deal."

"Oh!" When Ruth finally grasped what had happened, the relief she felt was intense. "Thank you Beth!" A moment later she realised what she had said: "I mean--" But Beth waved it away.

As the rush of relief faded, Ruth began to wonder why Beth hadn't worn the second tracksuit before -- with two practices and a game each week, it would have certainly eased the time pressure on Ruth to have two tracksuits on the go. She began thinking about how to frame the question so as not to sound like a nag, but as if reading her mind, Beth explained: "We wanted to see what you were capable of. Quite a lot as it turns out! You do a great job, Ruth. We're lucky to have you." She smiled again, and Ruth couldn't help but beam with pride.

Beth began walking around the cramped laundry, seeming to be interested in the many different piles, and it occurred to Ruth that she couldn't remember ever seeing Beth

in

the laundry before. Sometimes she would stand at the top of the stairs and throw things down that Ruth had missed picking up herself, but that was the closest she had ever been, at least that Ruth could tell. Beth was never in a good mood at those times, and Ruth pushed the memory from her mind. Things were going well now, no reason to focus on the negative.

Beth gestured at the windowless walls. "This is, like, your

base

, right? The one place you're always drawn back to, I mean. Kind of like The Lamb is for us?"

"Yeah, kind of, I guess," said Ruth, trying to smile. It didn't feel like the same thing to her, but it seemed rude to nitpick when Beth had not only let her off the hook but was even trying to find something in common with her, for once. Ruth liked going to The Lamb too, in fact, but it was just so hard to find the time nowadays.

--"Us"? Who did she-- Did she only--

"Hey listen, you know Cara, right? You guys have met?" Beth's question snapped Ruth back into the moment. She had indeed met Cara -- she remembered it clearly. Cara was the star player on Beth's volleyball team. "Because her current flat isn't working out, and she needs a place to stay for a couple of weeks, until she can find a new place. I was thinking she could stay here. Would you be OK with that? I already checked with Kel and Lauren, and they're OK with it. It would be just a couple of weeks."

Ruth didn't like Cara. But she was Beth's best friend. She nodded warily.

"Great, because I was thinking she could stay in your room. And you could sleep down here! Just temporarily of course. Just for a couple of weeks."

Ruth wasn't sure what was happening. It sounded unreasonable to her -- the words did -- but Beth sounded so confident and reasonable. She must have misunderstood something.

Just a couple of weeks.

And Beth seemed to think she had already agreed. But she didn't mean that, she only meant that-- But now she would have to explain that to Beth, and Beth would go from being pleased with her back to--

"Couldn't she maybe sleep on the couch?" Ruth's voice was reed-thin, closer to a whisper than ordinary speech, and she was breathing heavily again. Disagreeing with Beth was so hard -- it seemed to go against every instinct she had. But she was glad she had said it. Sometimes disagreeing with a friend is the right thing to do, plus it wasn't really a full disagreement anyway because in principle she didn't really oppose--

Beth wrinkled her nose. "I dunno... I don't think she'll go for it." Her face brightened. "But I could ask her if you like?"

Ruth nodded enthusiastically. This was good. Beth was on her side. She was glad she had stood up for herself. It was the right choice.

Beth pulled out her phone and tapped it a few times. "She's hard to get on the phone, but let's see..." She took a step back, turning to the side as she did so. "Hey!" She turned to give Ruth a smile and a thumbs-up, which Ruth returned with interest, before turning back. "Listen, I was thinking, what if instead of staying in Ruth's room, you slept on the couch? Might be fun?" She held up a finger towards Ruth while Cara answered. Ruth strained to hear what Cara said, but it was just out of earshot. She wanted very much to move closer, but that would look desperate. Ruth couldn't afford to look desperate with these girls. And it didn't really matter anyway, she told herself, she would know the answer soon enough. "Uh-huh. Yeah. Well, just thought it might be fun is all. Sure, see you soon girl."

Beth tapped her phone and turned back towards Ruth, her face full of compassion. "She didn't go for it. Sorry."

Ruth nodded. She knew the answer already, and was able to keep her expression neutral for Beth. Beth had tried.

"It'd be kinda inconvenient, you know what I mean? For everyone, not just her. Ruth?"

Ruth nodded.

In the early days, Ruth had come along to one of Beth's games. Even though Ruth knew next to nothing about volleyball, she was excited because Beth had asked her to come. Beth drove them both there in her car, and twenty minutes before the game they walked into the musty high-ceilinged hall to find a handful of players warming up.

One of the players saw Beth and greeted her, before noticing Ruth standing next to her. She turned back to Beth with an amused expression on her face. "That's her, isn't it? Oh my God. You can

tell

. Just look at her!" And then she whispered something in Beth's ear that Ruth couldn't hear, and Beth turned away, but Ruth could see that she was trying not to laugh.

"That was Cara," Beth said as she went to get changed. "She's amazing."

The game started and Ruth's eyes followed the ball around the court, but she couldn't focus. She desperately wanted to know what Cara had meant, and what she had said afterwards. Several times on the car ride home, she almost asked Beth, but she didn't want Beth to see how upset she was. These girls were all stunning and cool, and she knew in her bones that if she wanted to hang out with them then she had to at least be cool. So she said nothing about it. Beth talked about the game, talked about what an amazing player Cara was, and Ruth agreed with her. Cara was amazing, there was no denying it. Her ability was obvious even to a newcomer. The everyday world rushed past outside, and Ruth agreed with Beth until the car pulled up outside their flat.

As the car slowed to a stop on the gravel driveway, Ruth felt a rising panic.

What did Cara mean?

Beth got out and closed the door, and Ruth knew then that she had to do the same. When she did, the sound it made told her that she would never know.

"Oh, one more thing -- Cara's vegetarian. Don't worry though, I talked to Kel and Lauren, and we're all fine with having veggie meals two or three times a week. So it won't be much more work. And you know, it might even come out cheaper overall!"

She would be cooking for Cara.

"Because meat's expensive, right?" Beth's face showed confusion. Ruth realised she was staring blankly at the washing machine, looking like an idiot, looking like she didn't understand what Beth was saying.

"Yes," said Ruth.

"Good," said Beth. "She's coming over tomorrow night, that should be plenty of time to change the sheets and bring your stuff down." She thought for a moment. "Leave the TV though."

Ruth would be sleeping in the laundry. Ruth would be cooking for Cara. Just for a couple of weeks. For Beth.

Beth began looking through the baskets again. "Ah, the 'delicates.' Do you save these for last?" Ruth looked at her face: There was some implication there, there had to be, but she was too dazed to catch it, to figure it out. Or maybe it was nothing at all. Before she could think of an answer, Beth picked up a shiny, flimsy pair of her own underwear. "Tell me, how do you keep track of whose are whose? How do you know you're not accidentally handing me back a pair of your own?"

Ruth was grateful for a question she knew the answer to. "Oh, that's easy. Mine aren't-- like that." The thought of buying something so sleek and feminine -- so refined -- for her own use had never crossed her mind, and now that it did, the juxtaposition mortified her: she imagined the designers of the garment cringeing, or laughing behind their hands. Silk and lace and finely sewn curves deserved better. Beth was still looking at her expectantly, so she continued: "Mine are just, you know--" She hunted for a word that was not embarrassing.

Why hadn't she simply said that she was a smaller size?

"Practical?"

"Right!" It amazed Ruth how Beth could do that. Every time. Most people couldn't see past her looks or her sporting prowess, but it was Beth's facility with language that awed Ruth the most. Any shade of meaning could be applied, or withdrawn; added, or subtracted. Sometimes Ruth would think about what Beth had said to her for hours, replaying it in her mind from every angle, trying to prise out another layer of meaning. But she was never sure if it was really there.

Beth smiled at her, bringing her back to the moment. "Well, I think

every

woman deserves to feel sexy now and then. You should get yourself a pair."

Automatically Ruth shaped her mouth to deflect the suggestion --

Oh, I don't know about that!

-- but then paused. Hearing her say it, hearing

Beth

say it, made Ruth start to believe that it could be true.

"In the meantime, want to try mine on?" Beth held up the silky thing between two fingertips.

Ruth laughed nervously; she didn't mean right now, did she? Ruth was already wearing underwear, surely Beth didn't expect her to take them off right in front of her? Or maybe that was totally normal for girls accustomed to the volleyball changing room, and she was just behaving like a silly prude, because Beth was coming towards her. But did Beth mean the ones in her hand? Because they hadn't been washed yet. Did she not realise? But Beth was standing right in front of her now. And Beth was two sizes bigger than her anyway, didn't she also know this? But Beth was moving them around in her hands. Beth was lifting them up. Beth was bringing them down. And when it had finished happening, the only thought left in Ruth's mind was that she had misunderstood, stupid Ruth had misunderstood again.

Ruth looked up at the woman whose crotch stains encased her nose, and tried to stay alive. Humiliation was a fluid around her, heavy, viscous, filling her ears. Too thick to move, to breathe.

Was it when she had said "every woman"? Was she implying-- Should she have known then what was coming? Was she implying that she was--

Rapidfire thoughts slowed down, became indistinct. Became a buzz in her ears. Thoughts weren't real any more. Only the fluid was real.

Her body knew what was happening. Her mind was lost, but her body knew. Far below any rational thing, any reason that could be named, below ideas and ideals and kind words that held no meaning, her body understood what it would take to break free. And so her eyes searched desperately for some flaw in the other woman, some weakness -- anything that could break the spell. The tiniest blemish could be a foothold, a base to rebuild from. A way out.

But there was only her jawline. Her shoulders flat and certain as the horizon. Her hands on her hips, her gaze. Ruth's mouth sagged open: She was absolute.

Ruth fought to stay standing, fought to form words. A part of her genuinely fought, but the fabric was warm now, and when she breathed in the scent came alive: telling her secrets, the secrets of beautiful girls and the world they live in, so thrilling, so different from her own, pressing her eyelids down, down, to slits, enveloping her, making everything soft and crimson-warm. Ruth tried, but the woman's eyes were on her, and the truth was in them.

"It's always the ugly ones," the goddess said.

It was too much. It was too much. Ruth opened her mouth to speak.

Perhaps if she had not been in that cramped little room, baskets of evidence piled high all around her; perhaps if she had still been on her feet. Or, if she had not inhaled at that exact moment. Perhaps that primal flash of indignation would have come some other time, some other place. To someone else.