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I watch for a moment as she climbs from the bed and walks naked from the room. She has a very attractive bum but it doesn't look like she's interested in making love this morning so I had better make the promised tea.
I'm standing by the kettle, my mind who knows where, when there are soft caresses on my hips that startle me. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you jump," Andi apologizes, smiling.
"No, I was just miles away." The kettle's noise increases as it begins to boil. As it clicks off, I lift it to slosh water into the two mugs, the tea bags instantly staining the water golden-brown as they spin slowly. "Andi, are you okay? I mean, with, you know, last night?"
"Yeah, sure. It was nice... very different, you know?"
"So, would you... again? Sleep with a woman, I mean." No, what I actually mean is would she consider sleeping with me again, but I cannot say that.
"Yeah, I reckon so. I mean I not looking for a relationship, you know, but maybe some sort of occasional girlfriend would be cool, yeah?"
I'm not sure what all that means so I busy myself with the tea to allow some time to think. It sounds like she'll see me again but isn't ready to commit to a relationship. Okay, fair enough: this is all new to her and I need to give her time — she may have just ended another relationship or be scared of what being in a lesbian relationship might mean, nervous of how friends and family might react. I add the milk to my tea. "Um, you don't want milk. Sugar?" I ask.
"No thanks."
"Okay. Now, toast. I've only wholemeal bread, I'm afraid."
"That's fine, thanks."
"We didn't do much talking last night, did we?" I observe as I drop two slices of bread into the toaster. "What do you do with yourself when not dancing by yourself in random nightclubs?"
"Or being picked up by lesbians!" she laughs and I smile too. "In fact, I'm taking a gap year. I've got a place at university but I'm not ready to go just yet; I'm working, just as an office assistant, but I want to travel too, maybe South America or the Far East, I haven't decided yet. What about you?"
I tell her of my job, trying to make it sound moderately exciting but failing miserably. Then she asks if I've always been a lesbian. "Well, I've never had a boyfriend," I smile. "I guess I must have been about fourteen or fifteen when I started to understand that it was only girls I was attracted to."
"Ever been with a guy?"
"No, not even as far as kissing. I went to an all-girl Catholic school, which I guess was a mixed blessing," I tell her, with a slightly grim smile at the memories. "On one hand, there were always girls around, which I liked, and we were always being warned by the nuns about the sinfulness of sex outside marriage and the risks of pregnancy, so lots of girls didn't start having boyfriends until they were in Year 10 or 11, by which time I knew I didn't want one. The downside was the homophobia: being called a 'lezzer' or a dyke was one of the worst insults there was," I sigh.
"What happened?" Andi asks, intrigued. I notice she seems very at ease, standing here naked in my little kitchen.
"I'd like to say that I stood up to them all and declared my right to love whomever I chose but, no: I kept my head down, told everyone I wanted to do well in my exams and a boyfriend would be a distraction; being called a swot and a boffin was the safer option than making myself a lightning rod for the homophobia in that place."
"What about your parents?" she asks. I cannot help but wonder if she's thinking about perhaps having to come out to her parents one day and there's a temptation to pretend it was easy. However, that wouldn't be fair on her. The toast pops up, momentarily distracting me.
"Butter?" I offer and she nods. "I was nineteen when I came out at home," I tell her as I spread the butter, "and, well, Mum and Dad found it hard. They didn't call me disgusting or reject me, not exactly, but they simply wouldn't talk about it and acted as if it was just something I'd grow out of. They made it clear that they didn't approve, that they were... disappointed in me. I found that hard; they had always seemed so proud of me before but after I told them it was as if my being gay was somehow a failure, that I wasn't good enough anymore..."
"Do they still feel that way?" she asks.
"They're both dead now," I say, and cannot keep the hard flatness from my voice.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Um, were they your only family?"
"I have a sister who... well, let's just say we don't talk anymore. I also have an aunt, Paulette; she and her husband were brilliant, they still are. She tried to talk to Mum but it didn't really help. Paulette thought that they both felt guilty, that they must have done something wrong to make me a lesbian."
"That's not how it works, is it? Thanks," she adds as I hand her the plate of toast.
"No!" I smile momentarily while I add more bread into the toaster for myself. "My parents aren't a good example and other parents are available!" I smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Yours, I suspect, are much more open-minded."
"Maybe," she concedes. There is silence for a while, as Andi eats and I prepare toast for myself.
"So, got much planned for your weekend?" I ask, trying to end the awkward silence.
"Uh, a few things," she says. "I'm thinking of getting my hair dyed, and I might go shopping, you know. What about you?"
"Well, not much. Maybe I'll go swimming again."
"Again?"
"Yes; I go a couple of mornings a week and do fifty or sixty lengths," I explain. I guess I'm showing off a little as I add, "I could do a bit more today, seventy or eighty, maybe."
"Wow, you must be a really good swimmer," she tells me, evidently impressed, and I give a modest shrug.
"What about you? Do you swim?"
"Me?" she asks with a derisive snort. "Just about, I guess. We were supposed to have lessons at school but they were a bit crap, you know? I wish I could swim properly 'cause I'd love to try scuba diving, yeah?"
"One of your gap year plans?" I ask.
"Kinda. I guess it's more something I'd love to do, you know, somewhere with loads of fish and stuff."
"Well, you know, Andi, if you ever wanted to try to improve your swimming, then I'd be happy to help." I try to make the offer sound casual but it would mean I'd see her again. And the thought of her in a swimsuit... "I'm not a swimming teacher or anything but I reckon I know enough to help someone improve."
"You reckon? Yeah, that'd be good." She pops the last of her toast in her mouth. "I guess I ought t get going."
"Do you want a shower to freshen up?" I suggest.
"Hmm, yeah, good idea."
I lead the way to the bathroom, where there is no bath, just the large, walk-in shower. "There you go. There's shampoo and shower gel on the shelf on the side," I point out.
"That looks like a suspiciously big shower for a small flat," Andi observes wryly. "Ever had company in there? Ha, you're busted!" she laughs at my expression.
"Okay, maybe a few times. Why, do you need help washing your back?"
"Sounds like fun," she replies, which is all the encouragement I need. I take her hand and draw her into the cubicle where I turn the water on, angling the showerhead down for a minute until the water runs warm. Turning, I place my hands on her hips and gently pull her towards me, under the spray of water. I am a little nervous as I want this to be not about just sex; I want this to be intimate and affectionate, an expression of more than just carnality.
Our bodies meet, the warm water flowing over and between us, and the feel of her slippery flesh against mine is exquisite. I wrap her in an embrace and she responds in the same way so that the meeting of our mouths in a deeply passionate kiss is wonderful and mutual.
"So, what about that back-washing?" Andi asks when our lips finally part.
"Of course," I reply, slipping around her to reach the shower gel. I flip the cap and squeeze some over her shoulders and back.
"That's cold!" she complains with a giggle.
"Hmm, I'd better warm you up then." I run my hands over her back, spreading the pale, viscous liquid over her skin. I slide my arms around her to cup her boobs, lathering them and feeling the bone-hard buttons of her nipples. My hands run down, over her tummy and back across her hips to her bum. As my fingers caress the firm, rounded flesh she gives a soft sigh and she bends forward slightly, pushing her arse back, parting her cheeks a little and allowing my fingers to trace that soft, intimate valley.
She gives another sigh, deeper this time and I recall her fingering my bum last night. I press firmly as my hand slips down and my fingers glide slickly across her puckered opening, down and then up. "Mmmm, yes!" she gasps, and I feel her anus flex, not tightening as mine had but swelling and opening slightly.
"Your bum really wants my finger inside it, doesn't it?" I whisper, "but I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't, Tina; my arse is a complete slut and will love it," she laughs.
I make sure my finger is slick with shower gel before returning to her still-pouting opening. The fingertip fits into the crater-like ring, but I hesitate. Andi, it seems, is having none of that and pushes back again in impatient encouragement. I press and my finger slides smoothly into her hot, tight interior. "Oh, fuck, I love it," she says happily. I feel her hand touching my legs, groping blindly behind her, searching for my pussy. I guide her hand, edging it closer until her fingers find the top of my slit. I reach around her with my left hand and down to find her cunt and the hard nubbin nestling within.
"Oh, yes, more..." she gasps. My finger is buried full-length in her arse, pumping softly and I am rubbing her clit at an increasing rate as she squirms against me. Her fingers are clumsy, nudging into me just enough to brush my clit from time to time; it's far from unpleasant and the whole situation is wildly sexy. However, I doubt I'll be getting to orgasm, certainly not before Andi does. Never mind, this is for her and the hope that there might be other times...
Her anal muscles clamp my finger tightly enough to make it tingle. Her whole body goes rigid and she gives a strangled scream. I continue to play her clit for another half minute before she pulls away, my fingers slipping from her as she sinks to her knees, gasping.
"You okay?" I ask and she laughs breathlessly.
"Shit, yes. My legs stopped working though!" I squat down beside her to give her a kiss, soft and affectionate.
"It was good then?"
"Mmm very. Thanks, Tina." She rests her head on my shoulder for a moment but the floor of the shower isn't the most comfortable of places and I'm soon helping her up. She reaches for the bottle of shower gel. "Let me do your back,"
It's pleasantly intimate but I try not to be disappointed when it quickly becomes clear that she's happy to stick at just washing me. She had said she needed to get on, I remind myself, and this is her first lesbian experience, so I shouldn't press her to go further. Still, it's bloody frustrating.
Dried and dressed, she shows even less inclination to recommencing anything sexual, and though she accepts my lips on hers in a parting kiss, there isn't the spark of passion there. "Here, let me give you my phone number," I offer, writing it hastily on a small piece of paper with my name, "in case you were serious about swimming lessons or... you know, if you want to go dancing again..." I'm annoyed that I sound so desperate and even more irritated at her neutral reaction.
"Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, I've kinda got a lot on, yeah?"
"Yes, I understand, absolutely," I tell her, my heart sinking as the scrap of paper disappears into her pocket.
There's a parting hug, then a final, almost formal kiss but then I'm closing the door behind her with an empty, sinking feeling. Bollocks, I genuinely thought she might be interested. Tina Roberts, you are a dozy bitch: why can't you learn that falling for bi-curious and newbie-gay-girls is a recipe for pain and disappointment?
Wednesday 18 November
My phone, set to silent, of course, buzzes softly where it vibrates against the desk. The sudden skip in my heart at the sound is becoming irritating and I find myself getting annoyed: annoyed that she hasn't called me and annoyed that I keep thinking she will. I should just ignore it but, equally annoying, I cannot help but flip it over to see the screen.
Ms Roberts, your monthly credit card statement is now available. To view it online...
See, I was right: it wasn't her. I put the mobile down and turn back to my PC. It's never going to be her, so I should just get the fuck over it and get on with my life. She... I look up at the soft tap at the office door to see Jan standing there, a strange on her face. "Hello, Tina."
"Hi Jan," I say, keeping my voice calm and hurriedly changing my expression to that of a composed, professional woman, or so I hope. "What's up?" I ask
"Um, well..." she bites her lip and I wonder what's making her so nervous. "I, I mean we, Tanwen and I that is... well, I know it's a way off yet but we wondered what you were doing for Christmas, we were."
I can't help smiling at the way Jan seems to be picking up some of Tanwen's idiom already. "I'm not sure," I reply. "Why, are the two of you planning more time off?"
"Oh no, it not that. I meant what are you doing on Christmas Day?"
"Oh, well..." I reply, looking out the window and thinking hard. The truth is, I don't know. In the absence of any significant other in my life, it would most likely have been with Paulette and Colin, but they have already left on their epic circumnavigation and won't be back until the new year. I turn back to Jan. "Not much, probably," I admit. "Why?"
"Well, Tan and I were wondering if you'd like to join us... for Christmas dinner, I mean?"
"But, this will be your first Christmas together; surely you'll just want it to be the two of you?"
"It'd never be just the two of course; there are Jake, Eryn and Tilly too," she smiles.
"Yes, but you know what I mean, and I doubt the kids will want me there," I point out, remembering the suspicious looks I'd received when the three of them had arrived at the house near Salisbury with Tanwen. I'd invited Tanwen, so she was surprised to find Jan there, whereas the children were quite happy with Jan's presence but decidedly unsure about me.
"Tina, I know children aren't your thing but.... Well, the offer is there."
Of course, there's the elephant in the room here: my feelings for Jan. I know that letting her go and helping her and Tanwen find each other was kind and good; Paulette had certainly thought so when I'd spoken to her on Sunday. However, while my head tells me that Jan's deep need to be a parent would have gnawed away at our relationship over time, my heart isn't so logical — even though I slept with Jan just twice and our love affair lasted barely a week. On the whole, they've remained remarkably and surprisingly reserved with each other whilst here in the office, but am I ready to encounter them being all loving and affectionate in the way I'm sure they are at home?
"Please, think about it, Tina. Tan and I owe you such a lot..." Jan has a pleading note in her voice and a nervous smile. It occurs to me that she may feel a little guilty about choosing Tanwen over me and the happiness they have together. No, this really could be too much
"Thank you, Jan, I..." I hesitate, "...I will come, if you and Tanwen are sure that I won't ruin your day," I find myself replying, to my amazement. Why did I say that?
"Oh, good," Jan says, and she seems genuinely happy. "Tanwen will be pleased, too, she will."
"And the kids?" I ask.
"Well, I'm sure they'll be fine, once they get to know you. You can be Auntie Tina."
"Oh, please, no: not Auntie!" I tell her firmly.
"Okay, just Tina then. I'll go and make the tea." She leans over to grab the mug from my desk and hurries off. I watch her as she walks away, the dark, snug-fitting trousers showing the curved form of her bum... Why did I accept her invitation? Am I mad? It seems like madness, and yet... I don't know. I certainly wasn't looking forward to Christmas alone but I'm not sure three kids will be much better. Oh well, I'm committed now.
Monday 23 November
"I'm just going out for an hour," I tell the office in general as I turn and head out of the door. I know that I've been, to put it bluntly, a miserable cow this morning and this is not just down to the normal Monday blues. It was a horrible weekend and it's all Andi's fault. Okay, it's not really Andi's fault but my own stupid obsession, and the recurring hope that she'll phone. Obviously, she hasn't.
On Friday I went to Quixote's, but she wasn't there, and neither were Michele or Frankie nor any of the others I know well enough to socialize with. I tried dancing in the corner beyond the pillar where I'd met her as if, somehow, that would summon her to me but it didn't work and I couldn't relax into the music either. After about half an hour I gave up and went home.
The rest of the weekend wasn't any better and even my sleeping was unsettled and restless.
I had planned to go swimming first thing this morning but overslept, having finally fallen deeply asleep well after midnight and my alarm being too easily silenced. Therefore, I am going to spend my lunchtime swimming in the hope that exercise will: a) lift my mood — something that will no doubt please my colleagues — and b) help me to sleep better tonight.
I turn right into Market Street, the gusting wind blowing cold rain into my face, making my cheeks tingle. I'm heading to the Leisure Centre and its swimming pool. Hopefully, it won't be too busy.
I bow my head against the rain and hitch the little rucksack — containing my swimming costume, towel, shampoo and deodorant — a little higher on my shoulder. Every dozen steps or so I raise my head and I look around. The street is busy, and I notice quite a few of the shop windows declaring BLACK FRIDAY SALE in various wordings and typefaces. Whether Black Friday was last Friday or next, the shops are clearly milking it for all it's worth.
I also notice, rather depressingly, that the shops and the lampposts already have Christmas decorations, the lights twinkling dimly in daylight. A flash of blue catches my eye, my head swinging sharply back in a double-take, although at first, I don't know why. It's only as the dash of colour resolves into a royal blue duffel coat with long, dark hair spilling over the shoulders and thrown-back hood that I understand. "Andi!" I gasp, quietly. She's walking on the opposite side of the road and without thinking, I hurry towards the pedestrian crossing and start to cross rapidly, as soon as the lights halt the traffic. By the time the green man gives me permission to leave the pavement, I'm already stepping onto the opposite kerb.
I try to act casually as hurry along the pavement towards Andi. She passes Top Shop and just beyond, so suddenly that I almost miss it, she enters Starbucks. I approach, nonchalantly glancing into Top Shop's window as if something has caught my eye. I take a deep breath. Am I going to do this? Am I going to 'accidentally' bump into Andi? She never bothered to call me, so she can't have wanted to see me again, can she? Am I really some sad, thirty-something lesbian stalker? Despite the arguments of logic, good sense and dignity, there is an inevitability in my stepping through the coffee shop door a few moments later.
She is queued at the counter, looking up at the list of drinks on the wall behind it. I cannot help noticing that her hair has not been dyed, despite her declared plans for that Saturday a week-and-a-half ago. "Andi?" I say as if suddenly realizing that it's her.
