The Other Lisa

Dancing with Lisa had become the focus of my social life and although I still had nights out with friends, Salsa nights were my highlights. I had stopped dating too, my physical intimacy coming solely from our erotic dances and my subsequent masturbation. There were times when we were dancing, our hips grinding, bodies entwined, that I thought we would break the impasse and put our troubled history behind us. Eye to eye, moving in perfect harmony, hot breath passing between us as our lips hovered just millimetres from each other I often recalled our kiss at the college party and what would have happened had she not taunted me, if I had not lashed out. I sometimes thought that we would kiss while dancing, that we would simply melt together with no words spoken.

We were 28 now and although life was good it was a strange thing to admit to myself that the closest thing I had to a lover was my most hated enemy, former childhood friend and dance partner. I began to edge myself towards forgiveness, plan what I would say to break the spell that held us apart in spirit so we could become what we had been, what we should be. I was teetering on the verge of that when Lisa herself, with classic timing and in perfect keeping with our troubled history, stopped me in my tracks.

I was late to class one night, maybe 20 minutes late. One of those days when everything small and annoying that can go wrong eats your time away. I was late out of the office, being held up on an order query. Ten minutes down the road then realised my phone was still in the office and had to go back. Once home, I made a coffee to chug before getting changed and dropped the milk, which spread all over the kitchen floor. So when I finally managed to get to dance class, I was hot and bothered and looking forward to working out the frustration.

I burst in with an apology on my lips and froze. Most of the class was standing around the edge of the floor while two figures were putting on a display. It was Lisa and some guy I didn't recognise. The dance was fairly advanced so he was no beginner and I stood mesmerised, watching, my bag still in my hand. He was good, Lisa of course was superb and they twirled and gyrated in skilful harmony. My blood began to boil with the same anger and jealousy I'd felt as a child when she's ditched me for Gareth. I seethed and waited until the dance had finished, then made my way over to the duo.

"Very nice," I complimented both. I held out my hand to the chap. "Lisa Miller," I announced with a forced smile.

"James, charmed," he smiled warmly.

"Can I just steal her for a minute, James?" I asked with as much calm as I could muster.

He smiled, raised his hands and moved off to talk to Sylvia. I turned to Lisa, trying to push my jealousy back down again.

"What was that about?" It wasn't what I wanted to say, the words just jumped out. Lisa flinched a little as she looked at me. It was the first time either of us had actually spoken to the other for some time. She looked me in the eye for a long moment before answering.

"He's just moved here and wants to join. Danced before and Sylvia wanted to see what he was made of. You were late so she gave him to me to test." She paused, her mouth opened and closed twice. "You're jealous aren't you?" she said eventually.

"Yes," I answered curtly. "Yes I am." I let my eyes drop, my mind playing over what I had been planning to say to her, what I had been trying to build myself up to.

She put her hand under my chin, raising my eyes back to hers.

"We're not lovers, Lisa. We're not even friends," she said quietly. There was an edge of sadness to her voice and she looked down for a moment, dropping her hand from my face.

Despite the truth of what she said, it hit me like a hammer and the anger I had carried for so long flared up once more in my belly. I balled my fists, felt my body become rigid. She sensed the change, must have felt it standing as close as we were and she looked up again, meeting my angry gaze, her own fists clenching. She raised an eyebrow.

"Really? We're going to do this again are we?"

She moved a tiny step towards me, maintaining eye contact, until our noses almost touched. Her eyes looked moist through the frown but I couldn't read her expression beyond the obvious anger. No, this was not what I wanted; my thoughts of a reconciliation evaporating in the face of my rekindled fury, I didn't want us to fight again and certainly not in front of the dance class. I said nothing, just turned quickly and ran from the room and out of the door, not stopping until I reached my car. As I fumbled for the key, tears were streaming down my face. I tried to hold on to the anger for strength but it failed me and all I felt now was hurt, deep in my chest, right to the core of me.

I drove home when I could see clearly some 10 minutes later. Home to my lovely but empty cottage a few miles outside of town. Home to nothing but myself and my prideful anger. I was an idiot I was beginning to realise. My thoughts of reawakening a long dead friendship with Lisa were vain and nonsensical and her rebuke had reminded me of that. I decided I would not return to the dance class and while I acknowledged the loss that would be, to not dance with her again, I needed to focus more on other aspects of my life. I wasn't getting any younger and the last three years had been almost entirely devoted to my time with my life-long enemy. Stupid, stupid, stupid....

It was three weeks later when my blonde nemesis walked into the office, reminding me once more that the universe and fate would not allow us to part for long.

She returned from the store room pushing the desk chair in front of her, eyes down, face unreadable. As she settled herself on the other side of the desk, Jerry appeared and presented her with a laptop PC, and proceeded to take her through log-ins and files she would need to get started. I stared almost absently at her as she concentrated on what he was saying, clicking through things on the laptop, nodding, occasionally smiling. Her appearance in my place of work was a more permanent role in my life than the dance class had been and this presented an imminent problem that would need a quick resolution. I wasn't about to quit but if we had to spend every day in the same office, even at the same desk facing each other, we had to have peace between us.

His initiation routine over, Jerry nodded to me and winked then went back to his office. I was trying to look busy as Lisa began arranging her things on her side of the desk but my eyes kept flicking back to her, watching her hair move around her face, the small changes in expression as she concentrated on the screen in front of her. She didn't seem to notice and settled into making notes and clicking through files. I crossed my legs under the desk and forced my attention back to my own work but I was distracted by her presence and my preoccupation with finding a resolution to our 'problem'.

As I shifted angle slightly, my ankle brushed against hers under the desk; it wasn't a small desk but wasn't really deep enough to accommodate two from both sides. She didn't look up, giving no sign of awareness of the contact. We both had bare legs and as was common, the feel of her skin against mine I found soothing. I moved my chair in slightly more so there was more skin contact, pressed a little firmer against her. Still without looking up, I felt her push back slightly, maintaining the pressure. So I settled back into my work for the afternoon, occasionally rubbing my leg against hers to feel that almost frictionless glide of skin on skin, feeling her do the same from time to time as if our contact was the most natural thing in the world.

A fairly quiet and pleasant afternoon passed and six o'clock rolled around fairly quickly. The other girls in the office had already left but I'd things I wanted to finish before the weekend. Lisa had remained as well, I assumed in order to get herself comfortable with everything before the start of a new week. As I shut my laptop down, my mind made its way back to my dilemma; do I make a pre-emptive strike to find a resolution or wait and see how things played out in the office? My last trip down the path to peace with Lisa ended in a jealous rage on my part but I'd put that behind me now, I thought.

I closed my laptop and looked up at her, waiting to catch her eye. Our legs were still touching under the desk and I pushed against her with a little more urgency than usual. She glanced up, closing her own laptop as she did. Her face was utterly unreadable as she looked me straight in the eye, obviously waiting for me to speak.

"We should talk. In private preferably," I said with as much light in my voice as I could without sounding like I was joking.

She studied my face for a long moment before answering.

"I agree," she smiled a little at the corners of her mouth. "There is a lot to say and I want this to work." She waved her hand toward me and the office in general.

"Do you fancy coming over to mine this evening then? I can make us some dinner, we can relax and talk for as long as you like." I was trying to sound relaxed but her response was not what I had expected. I really didn't know what I had expected but "a lot to say..." sounded maybe more ominous than I would have liked.

"That would be lovely," she answered with a smile. "I'll follow you home. Ready?"

I was a little off balance now. That seemed too easy and although nothing had yet been said, I had expected more enmity, maybe more resistance. With that on my mind, I nodded and picked up my bag and jacket, waited until she had done the same and we walked side by side to the door. I opened it for her, then locked it behind us, and we walked in silence to our cars which, oddly enough, were parked nose to nose. I looked at them, almost laughing out loud; both Fiat Abarth 500s, mine in graphite, hers in antique ivory. I was not in the least bit surprised, merely marvelled at all the ways we were so alike.

It was a 12 mile drive to my cottage but we'd missed the worst of the traffic and it took only 20 minutes or so. Right behind me all the way, Lisa appeared to be singing along to the radio as we drove. Twice I found myself looking in the mirror a little too long and forcibly dragged my attention back to the road. Something had changed in our dynamic but I couldn't put my finger on what, or even if it was good or bad. If we ended up fighting again, I had no idea what would happen without anyone there to separate us. A tinge of fear crept in and I imagined a ridiculous headline: "Two women found dead in cottage." Our friends would read it and nod to each other, "so they killed each other then..."

I laughed to myself but not entirely convincingly as I pulled onto the driveway and parked in front of the garage, Lisa pulling right up behind me. We entered without speaking, I took her jacket to hang up and showed her through to the living room. She took a seat on the sofa to wait while I went straight through to the kitchen to make coffee.

A few minutes later as I brought the coffee through, she was standing at the rear window looking out into my garden. She turned and smiled, walking slowly back to sit at one end of the sofa.

"You have a lovely home. I always imagined you would live somewhere like this," she said warmly, almost with pride. My brain said, "What the fuck is going on here?"

"Thank you. I have to say I'm surprised you would be thinking anything about where I would live." Honesty seemed the best policy.

"You have no idea." Her eyes dropped for a moment and she took a deep breath before making eye contact again. "You start since this was your idea. I will prompt you with two questions though: When was it you started to hate me and why?"

"That day you walked home with Gareth and didn't wait for me, then were weird with me on the phone. I cried a lot, I was jealous and you didn't seem to care." I just blurted it out like it all happened yesterday.

She laughed, a real laugh but it didn't seem like it was really in amusement. "What exactly were you jealous of?"

"You going off with Gareth. He was ok, yes but I felt like he took you from me and you didn't care." In spite of myself, tears were forming and a lump was trying to grow in my throat.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, speaking while she did. "I couldn't speak my mind then, too many ears in the house. The next day it came out wrong and we ended up fighting. I didn't want it that way but you were so angry... I didn't have the words. Then we fought and I was angry, it seemed to take on a life of its own." She opened her eyes again and turned to me; they were filling with tears. "I was trying to make you jealous. I didn't want Gareth coming between us so I thought that would make you dislike him."

I was stunned. It was a misunderstanding?

"You thought that was the best way to do it?" I let the sarcasm drip from the question.

"I was a dumb kid. I didn't think it through, I was worried about him coming between us, that's what happened. After we fell out, I had no idea what to say to fix it. Every time we bumped into each other after that, it ended badly." She looked quite upset as I imagine I did.

My mind was reeling, in truth. All these years hating her over a misunderstanding? She wanted the same as I did and I threw our friendship away because I was angry. My parents' words floated back in to taunt me. 'You're too angry, angel.' '...most of the "doing" has been yours...' It seems they were right after all. I felt like an idiot, worse. I wanted the ground to swallow me up. There was no escape though, this was all my fault. I wondered what else I'd misinterpreted, waded into the next question.

"When we kissed at the party, why did you call me a fucking dyke?" It was the obvious choice since it was that which led to us actually punching each other.

"Honestly, I was joking, it was supposed to be cheeky and naughty. I thought you'd take it the right way seeing as we'd been passionately kissing for a few minutes." She looked so sad now, clearly the weight of this she'd carried for years while I was busy raging and wasting time.

I was in shock and cast my mind back to that night. She'd pulled her face away, the gossamer thread still joining our lips. Her face glowed, eyes full of humour and passion... and then I punched her.

"I'm such a fucking idiot." I didn't swear much but there are times it is appropriate. "Shit, Lisa, there aren't even words to say how stupid I've been or how sorry I am. All that wasted time, I'm so, so sorry." Tears were rolling freely now, down both our faces.

She moved up the sofa next to me, her knee pressed against mine as she took my hands in hers.

"It hasn't all been wasted time has it? The universe wouldn't let us be parted would it? All those close encounters kept us together in a way. Not to mention three years as Salsa partners." She closed her eyes again. "I'm sorry for the rebuke that night when you were late. I was cross with you for not being there and again, I wanted you to be jealous."

"I was building up to something that night and seeing you dancing with someone else made me boil over again," I confessed tearfully.

"Building up to what, if I may ask now?" Her tear filled eyes were bright and beautiful.

"Confession time," I started in earnest. "For years, after we'd danced, I'd be so turned on I'd have to finish myself off when I got home. I've had some shit and boring relationships and although I am definitely not a lesbian, you were and have been the closest thing to a proper lover I have ever had. All those close encounters as you call them, I loved the contact; your skin against mine, the smell of you, just seeing you..." I trailed off. "Then as we danced, it was magical. We moved so well together, it was like we could read each other's minds. It sounds so stupid in light of all that's happened but you were and are the most important thing in my life."

There, I'd said it out loud. It felt right, no matter what she said now. She released her left hand, put her fingers softly against my cheek and pulled out foreheads together. Then moving her head to the side, brought our eyes level with each other, pulled us together, her wet eyelashes brushing against mine as we blinked.

"What a pair we are," she said softly. "I was doing the same after every dance class. There were times I wanted to just kiss you as we danced, take you home afterwards... but how could I when you hated me so? That night at the party, when we kissed, I wanted you so badly. My slightly drunken fantasy was just that; we would leave together, make passionate love, be as we were meant to be. To this day, that is the best kiss I have ever had."

Am I dreaming this? I wondered to myself, part of my mind thinking I may actually be asleep having an extremely lucid dream. It seemed so stupid; all these years of enmity, of my petty and pointless anger keeping us apart when all we really wanted, all we had ever wanted, was to be together. Still with our eyes pressed together, our tears mingling, I ran my free hand up her naked thigh, under the skirt, gently feeling the smoothness of her skin. I confessed to the night of stealing her panties and the orgasm that inspired later that night.

"I knew you'd swapped them," she said with delight. "They were still damp and I could smell you in the car on the way home. I put them on when I got home and fantasised about dancing naked with you, making love, until I came in them." She released my other hand, slid up her skirt to reveal what she was wearing underneath. I recognised the delicate embroidery.

In answer, I slid my own skirt up to show her an identical pair of panties. I didn't wear them all the time, they wouldn't have lasted. Maybe once a month, sometimes more, I would wear them and indulge in my erotic fantasy of her. No small coincidence then that we were both wearing them now. Hearing her admit that she had done the same in mine as I had in hers, possibly even at the same time as each other, was enough to push my building passion and I was becoming hot and moist. I moved my face away to see her clearly; her beautiful blue eyes sparkled, still wet from her tears and mine but bright now and full of hope.

I slid my hand up her thigh again, thrilling at the smoothness of it, let my fingers gently trace the edge of the panties, before resuming their journey back down the length of her exquisite leg. She shuddered slightly at the touch, briefly almost closing her eyes. She gently cupped my cheek once more, drew my face to hers and our lips met for the first time in 10 years. We kissed gently, tenderly, our lips exploring each other, caressing, pressing a little firmer. I felt her hand on my thigh, tracing its curve as my skirt was still pushed up to reveal my panties.

We kissed a little more firmly, lips parting more and I felt her tongue tease. I recalled our kiss from college vividly, and moving my hand to the back of her neck, I pressed us fully into the kiss. As her mouth opened more, inviting me in, I breathed into her as she had into me all those years ago and she accepted, her tongue meeting mine in the midst of the joining. Like two long lost lovers, our tongues gently teased, tasted before moving along each other, exploring deeper.

We were kissing with more vigour now, breath coming and going between us, our mouths a perfect seal. My passion rising, my hand slid up her thigh once more, gently feeling its way to her cotton clad crotch, sensing the heat and wetness there, pressing it gently. She gasped in my mouth and I took it in, returning it as she mirrored my action, pressing her fingers against my own cotton clad sex. Frustration and need were building in us both, I could feel it. Passionate as the kiss was, sat as we were slightly angled toward each other on the sofa, we could not realise the fullness of our ardour. A thought hit me and I slowed the kiss, pulled back a little, softly kissing her lips again. Her eyes opened, her hand gently pulling at my face to resume the dive.