1 Chapter 1

Ethel’s is a bar in Manhattan’s West Village,just off Hudson Street.It sits on a corner.When you enter there are tables to the right—the ones in front are at the corner—and up the wall as well as some on the left towards the front.The bar itself extends along the left wall,with the entrance to the kitchen in the left-rear corner.The restaurant offers typical pub-fare,well prepared,and top-notch desserts(and fresh bread)from a bakery around the corner,and the bar offers a surprisingly large selection of vintage wines.Ethel’s is subtly but tastefully lit.The music tends to get loud on Friday and Saturday nights but it is softer the rest of the time,the playlist leaning towards guitar-centric alternative,often in the Brandi Carlile vein—a picture of her taken when she was at the bar hangs,signed,in a place-of-honor—but always including songspeople can dance to.

The bathrooms are at the back to the right and though it is infrequently used there is a men’s room.The ladies’room has three stalls—there are certain“understandings”about their use—and three sinks.It is clean and regularly and discretely checked by a staffer.

In the restaurant/bar,there is a small dancefloor to the rear and a small stage,capable of holding two guitars and a bass but not much else.In winter,a small foyer is created so that one needs to open two doors to get in,protecting everyone from the invasion of frigid air.

When Alice Johnson,who you’ll meet shortly,walks into Ethel’s for the first time,it was well after the early-Fall-semester rush.That’s when groups of four,five,or six grad students just starting at Columbia or NYU come down on Friday or Saturday nights for a“taste.”Invariably these groups are a mix of women,often in the Big City for the first time,who fall into three categories.There are those who,as the Brits say,are taking the piss and it is a lark.There are women genuinely and honestly“curious,”who may later come back without the piss-takers.And there are the women who are more than curious and hopeful of finding a place where and,better,a person with whom they can feel themselves.The regulars are always on the look-out for this last type(although some of the pretend-piss-takers are of this type),always discrete in their approaches(one of the“understandings”about the ladies’room being its use as a safe-space).Many were in the same boat in the same place themselves and they sometimes develop Big-Sister relationships,providing guidance and protection—Ethel’s is not free of predators—and in threeor four cases those relationships have evolved into marriages.

There was no“Ethel.”There are varying stories,legends really,but the one with the greatest currency is that Alice Jenkins and Shirley Evans founded the place in 1990 and named it for a“Cheers”episode involving Sam Malone boasting of having danced with Carla like a modern-day“Fred and Ethel.”Whether this is true will never be known,Alice and Shirley both having gone to the Open Lesbian Bar in the Sky,Shirley shortly after she was able to marry the woman she loved for 45 years.

The place is now run by Alice’s niece,a Smith BA/Columbia MBA butch called Maggie Owens,named after Alice’s long-time lover and partner in a tacit bit of solidarity between Alice and her sister,Maggie’s mother,who told everyone(including for a time her husband and parents but neverMaggie)that it was and still tells everyone that it is“simply a name I liked the ring of.”

Maggie and the staff make quick but polite work of gawkers who enter or stand with their noses against the windows hoping to see…something and ultimately Ethel’s is itself a safe space for everyone who comes in.The stage is used on Tuesdays for an open-mic for the local LGBTQIA+Community.And LGBTQIA+Karaoke Thursdays!

Angela Johnson and Billy Wilson met in high school,got close in college,and became lovers when they shared a two-bedroom apartment in Jackson Heights,Queens with Josh Elder,a fellow Vassar grad.Each was a poor intern and each needed a cheap place to live while working in Manhattan.It was rented by Josh’s brother and another guy and when they moved out the three moved in.

The men shared one bedroom while Angela took the other.Within six months,though,Angela and Josh swapped after she and Billy become lovers.About six months later,Josh was gone,moved in with a girlfriend he met at work.Since they could then afford it,the remaining two kept the second bedroom as a spare.

About a year after that,they were guests at a wedding in Westchester County,north of New York City.The groom was one of Billy’s college buddies.Black tie,so she needed a gown.Angela found something nice at a consignment shop in the neighborhood.It fit her.It was rust-colored.

After the ceremony and after the dinner in the large but fancy barnlike structure,Angela went downa long hall and down a few steps to the ladies’room.She heard from one of the stalls,“Fuck me,fuck me,FUCK ME.”Then a squeal.Angela was standing by the sink in shock when the stall door opened and two women emerged,both flushed and one holding—were they?—they were:blue silk-panties.As the two left,holding hands,the woman who presumably still wore her silk panties smiled and said simply,“she lost the bet.”The two were gone,adjusting their gowns as they went,the sillage of expensive perfume in their wake.

Angela stood where she was when she heard the“fuck me,fuck me,FUCK ME,”her hand still grippingthe sink and her eyes locked on the newly-vacated stall.She entered it and imagined where they,the two women,were and what they were doing there.And who the hell were they?Both were attractive.The taller of the two,the apparent bet-winner,was dark-skinned and tall,perhaps five-nine,and rail thin with small boobs,her jet-black hair done into elegant strands of braid.She wore a long green gown that was complemented by her emerald earrings and necklace,and the colors all complemented her smooth skin,narrow face,and wide,almond-eyes.

The loser-of-the-bet was fair-skinned with a round face and well-defined cheekbones.She was shorter than her friend by about four inches or so and was far from thin with short,blonde hair and a pleasing degree of cleavage in a sparkling blue gown,complemented by sapphires with diamonds in her earrings and necklace.

While Angela was in the stall,someone entered the ladies’room.Angela smiled and quickly closed the door,now where the black woman had just fucked the blonde.Angela lifted her gown and lowered her satin panties to do what she had come to do.After the other woman was gone,she took a few moments longer than she normally would to wipe herself before flushing,exiting,washing her hands,checking her face,and rejoining the reception.

It had moved downstairs and the bride and groom were enjoying their first dance to an instantly forgettable and instantly forgotten song that purported to be clever and witty but was neither.As she heard it from the stairs,Angela thought,meanly,why can’t they just go to one of the classics?