Contains my story, Same Place, Same Time.
Ladylit’s ‘Fab Five’ are back, and this time they will regale you with stories revolving around the age-old theme of Opposites Attract. Find out how a Democrat and a Republican reconcile their different political view points in Cheyenne Blue’s Coming Out In District 31, how a gym novice and a gym bunny get it on in Lucy Felthouse’s Same Place, Same Time, and how an older, rather uptight woman deals with a young brat spoiling her holiday in Harper Bliss’s The Power of Words. Further stories by Erzabet Bishop and Laila Blake expand the settings in this diverse mini-anthology to a bookstore and a museum. Tension flies high in these five tales of clashing lesbian lust, in which the characters will have to either ignore their desire or broaden their mind.
When my best friend, Marina, first suggested we should start going to Zumba, my reaction was a heartfelt groan.
“Oh no, Ri, don’t make me. Please.”
“Why not? It’s meant to be really good fun. And let’s be completely honest, we could both do with shifting a few pounds.”
I shot her a dirty look, followed by a sigh. She was right—I did need to get rid of my spare tyre, but still… “Yeah, but I don’t see how jumping up and down in a room full of svelte, perky, ponytailed women is going to help. And I certainly don’t think it’ll be fun.”
“It’ll help because it makes you sweat. It’s exercise. Do you remember what that means, or would you like to look at a dictionary? Besides, I doubt it’ll be full of svelte, perky, ponytailed women.”
“Because if they’re so svelte, why the hell would they need to go Zumba? I reckon it’ll just be normal women, like us, of all ages, wanting to get fitter and lose a bit of weight.”
She made a good point. “But I’ll feel like a fucking idiot dancing about. I’m not the most coordinated person on the planet, am I?”
“No, but it’s not a bloody dance class. We’re not training for a spot on Strictly Come Dancing. Stop making excuses, will you? We’re going!”
Knowing that arguing any more was pointless, I conceded and allowed Marina to drag me along to the next class.
Dressed in my baggiest t-shirt, loosest tracksuit bottoms, most comfortable trainers, and with my brunette pixie cut free of product, I already looked a frightful sight, and I hadn’t done so much as a star jump.