The View

Over the past few weekends, Heather had tried a couple of tactics. Unable to get beyond their security door or find the right bell to ring, she had posted a couple of polite, handwritten letters into their block. She had tried to guess what number their flat was and in desperation had simply written 'to the lesbian couple without curtains' as it had recommended in that newspaper article. She cursed that. One desperate Sunday which must have been an anniversary or something, she had written to the problems page. Surprisingly her letter had been printed, but the advice had been, in large part, worse than useless. She had been recommended to simply enjoy the show, perhaps even use it as a springboard to spice up her own sex life. Yet, that had driven home a key part of the problem. Too often her mind was filled with cavorting female forms. Their great pleasure seemed to sap her own potential for arousal. It was not that there were numerous available men around, but she did feel that if her thoughts on the ride on the tube home were not so wrapped up in wondering what she would see that night, that she might be better place to catch the eye of some interesting man. Last weekend she had tried putting up a sign along her window suggesting they bought curtains, but it had fallen down and she had no idea if it had even been seen. Despite the exhaustion of all these approached, a new plan began to formulate.

It had started from the idea that she would rush out at going-to-work time and catch one or other of the couple heading out. Getting it right had been difficult as by the time she spotted they were getting ready to leave and got down to street level they had gone. It was made harder by the fact that they never seemed to get up at the same time. On a couple of occasions Heather had hovered on the street outside their place, but had simply ended up getting to work late herself. Her punctuality was now at risk of becoming simply a memory on the part of her boss. It had proven to be the case that the chances of being in the right place at the right time were few. However, given her other approaches had failed she was loath to entirely abandon the idea of catching them on the street.

Heather had heard that lesbians liked to go to night clubs. This she had gathered from 'in passing' discussions at work and from a bit of internet searching. She had even joined a lesbian website, under a well-contrived pseudonym, of course, to find out if this was true and the kind of places they went to. On a discussion board, she had masqueraded as a new lesbian and one new to London, though naturally she was neither. Her questions had reassured her that indeed lesbians did like clubs but that there were actually not that many in London despite its size. Heather could easily see when the couple were preparing to go out for a Saturday evening and she was sure they would get a taxi. This would buy her time to get down and catch up with them. On weekend evenings her street, though far from deserted, was a lot quieter in terms of cars and pedestrians making pursuit a lot easier than midweek. Then Heather began considering whether rather than in this street it would be best to catch them queuing for a club. She would just 'by chance' recognise them and start up some anodyne conversation that would come around to indicating she could see them the bedroom and that might be something they might like to do something about.

Was the plan getting too complicated? Heather guessed she would double her chances if she was prepared to challenge the couple either in the street outside their block or at whichever of the few night clubs they were liable to head to. That meant that she had to fit in. If it seemed there was a chance that she was going to catch up with this pair in the queue at a night club, then she did not want to appear official or threatening. She was reminded about something Gordon had said about going to a gay club with some friends while he was at university and the barman checking that he was aware of what sort of place he was in. In some ways Gordon, though accepting of all kinds of people, had been proud that he had stood out as being so blatantly heterosexual. For this plan, however, Heather did not want that kind of reaction. It was unnerving as it was and she had visions of being told to scuttle back to her boyfriend by some bullish doorwoman. With these ideas coming together sleep finally claimed her.

****

Heather sought to calm herself. Though she had been planning for this evening for many days now, she felt very excited. For at least the past two hours, she had known that the couple would be going out this evening. There had been so much showering, and dancing around semi-naked with glasses of wine and trying on of clothes, for them not to be planning to head out. Heather herself was getting ready, as she had no idea when they would set off and she needed to be ready. She had had some wine herself, feeling she needed something to boost her confidence. It would be a waste after all of this planning if when she encountered them she froze up and could not deliver her well-rehearsed speech. While the thoughts of lesbian sex and the dreams of women playing with each other or, indeed, with her, had faded a little, Heather knew that she was now on a path that she could not turn herself away from. Moving to another place in the near future was not a feasible option and, anyway, she felt indignant that she should be driven out by the unacceptable behaviour of others. She had come to despair that her neighbours in this block or theirs in the one opposite would take any action. If she wanted a solution it was down to her to arrange it.

A little impatient now, Heather went back to the kitchen and poured herself some more wine. Returning to the living room she caught sight of herself reflected in the windows. She had been indecisive for days on what precisely to wear. She felt that she had to get it perfect for this mission. Ultimately she had put on her new coated jeans, they were a dark indigo shade so she hoped they would not too much like jeans. She wore a sleeveless magenta top with a entwined floral pattern in black across it. She remembered something about lesbians liking sleeveless tops. She slung on the biker-style leather jacket she had bought on Isabelle's recommendation when out shopping one time but had never intended to wear. Perhaps it was too tough looking for her, maybe too youthful. However, she was grateful for it now as it seemed what she imagined a lesbian-about-town would wear.

For footwear Heather put on her heeled black suede boots that she sometimes even wore to work. They might not be precisely appropriate, but largely concealed beneath her jeans she felt she would pass inspection. She had to keep reminding herself that the plan was not to go into the club itself. However, she recognised that it would provide her with a third option if she did not catch the couple outside, so she had to be ready for that. Heather had kept her make-up simple, just a neutral red lipstick and some mascara. To Heather her hair seemed too long to be suitable; too much a give-away that she was straight. Pulling it back made it look too girly and so she opted for some slick hair gel that she could not remember ever buying, but appeared to go well on her very dark brown hair. Heather certainly felt ready now, but, of course, she had to wait for the two women to emerge.

As she gazed at the flat opposite and watched the couple continue their own preparations she realised how much more complicated this could have been. If they had not lived so near a taxi rank and they had called a mini cab instead as most people would, then there would be no chance for her to get her own and have it follow theirs. Then there was a mini-cab below in the street and she realised she had made a mistake. Snatching the small leather rucksack that she had prepared earlier, she ran to her door and was out of it in seconds. Then she was down the stairs and into the street. She arrived at street level panting. The car was still there and she could make out light from the couple's flat so it appeared she had done it in time. Trying to be nonchalant, she managed to make it across the road between the two blocks of flats without being run down. She hovered by the entrance and pulled out her smartphone, scrolling through old messages as if seeking something vital. She was glad that these days nobody challenged anyone standing dead still or even striding up and down, as long as they were gazing at the lit screen of a mobile phone: it was the perfect excuse to be anywhere. After a couple of minutes, Heather realised she had made a huge assumption and that this cab might not be for them at all. However, moments later as the familiar pair staggered laughing from the block she knew she had been right.

For an instant, Heather wondered if she could simply deliver her message here and now. She took another look at the women, Valerie was in a black leather jacket not too different to her own, beneath were teeshirt and jeggings. She even had suede boots but these crested her knee. Portia wore a loose white shirt over black leather trousers and flat-heeled boots. Silver glinted from ears, thumbs, fingers and noses. The hint of tattoo could be caught as Portia's white shirt shifted. Embarrassed Heather realised she knew far more certain things about these two women than probably many of their friends. Looking at them in the street she would not even have guessed they were lesbians let alone know where their tattoos were, even if they had them. Yet, in fact she knew precisely all of these details about both of them. As Heather's mind spiralled through all these thoughts she realised she was going to miss the information she needed. She stepped closer and was fortunately able to make out the muffled checking of the destination. These women wanted to go to the No Panic Room. Heather smiled, pleased that from her research she knew that this was one local venue which had lesbian nights.

The car pulled away and Heather felt very smug. While she could have made more of the opportunity she wondered if the women would have simply ignored her. Her plan to strike up a conversation in the queue now certainly seemed the best. She could make some almost true story about recognising them from her neighbourhood, even recalling which block they lived in. She could easily come across as just a friendly neighbour and not a stalker. Of course that was what she was, Heather told herself: just a friendly neighbour looking to give some advice to a couple of women not that different from herself. That is, bar the passionate lesbian sex they enjoyed with regular frequency. Putting that aside they were around her age, fashionable-ish and broad minded women. There - they had a lot in common. In a couple of minutes Heather was at the taxi rank by the station and soon she too was being whisked away to the No Panic Room.

The taxi delivered her to a quiet narrow road and Heather had no real idea where in London she was. However, staring through the window she quickly ascertained that the queue, short as it was, entirely consisted of women. She paid the driver and got out, feeling rather self-conscious, worried suddenly that she would be seen by someone from work and that would spark all kinds of unwanted speculations. However, she could not think of any female colleague that she would imagine was a lesbian. Heather checked that she had the right venue and had not simply been taken by the driver to the most convenient lesbian club. Then she began walking to the back of the queue, keeping alert for the couple she was seeking. Not seeing them she guessed it had taken too long to get here and they must already be inside. Her gaze triggered a similar response in return and Heather worried as if she looked like she was desperately seeking a potential partner. At least no-one was leaping out at her screaming 'send her away; she's not one of us'. Heather felt a little pride in the fact that her disguise had worked well enough. Now in the queue, she took more time to look at the women around her. Some wore dresses: one was in vinyl, another in latex. There was quite a lot of leather, jackets, tops and jeans. Boots tended to have flat or chunky heels, but there was a couple of women in slinky dresses and high-heels that would not have been out of place at a usual night club.

The queue was moving steadily but Heather was now glad that she had had this time to collect herself. It seemed clear no-one was going to make a fuss about her. A group of four had joined the queue behind her, then a woman on her own and couple. Heather guessed she could always abandon and leave, but as she moved forward, she felt that she was locked into this path and she kept reminding herself of the reward of a successful mission. Her flat and her mind would not be effectively filled with the presence of the very loving lesbian couple.

"Hello."

A woman's voice came from just in front of Heather and she snapped her gaze in that direction away from the couple at the head of the queue kissing. For a moment she was uncertain if she was being spoken to, but as their eyes connected the woman smiled. Heather looked at her, worried that indeed someone she knew was here. Even becoming accustomed to the styles in the queue for a lesbian night, Heather was immediately struck by how the newcomer appeared. This woman's hair had a cascade of narrow but long braids framing her face; the remainder of her hair was plaited and hung over her shoulder. She had a broad face with prominent cheeks, a strong chin and a slightly pointed nose. It was distinctive and her broad mouth gave a smile that Heather found she felt was communicating some mischievous secret between them. A little self-consciously she stepped back and took in the woman's clothes, they were feminine but quirky, a soft corset of grey patterned with white flowers, topped by a black jacquard waistcoat. She wore caramel leather shorts and patent oxblood laced boots. On some women it would have been an eclectic mix, but for this one it worked very well. Now she had taken in her features, the woman looked vaguely familiar but Heather struggled to place her. Was she from the same neighbourhood? Was she a friend of the couple Heather was seeking out, that she might have seen around? That latter explanation made sense given where they were now.

"Tanya." The woman said, as if it meant something. "Heather." She prompted.

Now Heather felt slightly alarmed. How did this woman know her name? Tanya came a little closer and Heather retreated a matching number of steps. She wondered what she had got herself into. With this Tanya now more clearly visible in the light spilling from the club, Heather could make out her hair colour, it was that flame russet shade, that rather guiltily now, Heather realised she had noticed on the woman in human resources. It was incredible to think this was the same woman, though she imagined some of her workmates might take time to recognise her as she was dressed now.

"Tanya from human resources." Heather said instinctively.

Tanya chuckled.

"God, sorry, that sounds pathetic, me putting you in that box."

"Well, I am glad you recognised me."

"Ditto." Heather said then regretted it, worrying she was implying she had been keen for Tanya to notice her.

"That's nice to hear."

"Erm, yes."

"I didn't know if you were out."

"Ah, well, I'm out for this evening. You know, to meet some people, a couple of women." Heather stuttered, not certain how best to explain her mission.

"Okay, I get that. I usually have a cheeky look through the files of any of the new female recruits to make sure we're at least keeping up the one-in-ten ratio. I must have missed you."

Heather was not really gathering all that Tanya was saying. She guessed given where they were it probably had something to do lesbians.

"You're going in?" Heather nodded to the club to check her assumption had been correct.

"Sure. I was with some friends, but I went to get some cash out. I guess they're inside already. You with anyone?"

"Oh, okay, that's a shame."

Tanya dismissed it with a gesture. "I can catch up to them."

"I think it's the same for me. I'm here to talk to two of my neighbours." Heather added realising she had not answered Tanya's question.

Tanya laughed. "Well it's an original place for a residents' meeting."

Heather now struggled to know what to say without sounding foolish. "Sure." To switch the focus she added, "Do you come here often?"

The pair of them laughed out loud at the hackneyed pick-up line. Heather blushed furiously thinking what a mess of this she was making. Partly she wished that she could get away from Tanya. She could only hope that she would say nothing at work about seeing Heather here and making the assumption she was a lesbian. She could only trust that it would not be in Tanya's interest to do that. She worried though she might 'out' Heather loud and proud. With that thought Heather realised how she had made the mistake earlier. Should she plead some illness and simply abandon this place and flee home?

"Once in a while, when I want to shake the cobwebs out. You?"

"No, my first time."

"Well, it's nice and I'll protect you from any scary butches."

"And I'll protect you." Heather responded automatically.

"Sounds like a good deal."

Heather again cursed how everything she said kept reinforcing the impression that she was a lesbian here to pick up a woman. However, Tanya seemed to be taking it all in a good spirit and Heather realised that as they had steadily advanced towards the entrance, she had begun to actually enjoy talking with her. Perhaps there was something to be said to having a more experienced guide alongside her. Two women together, one familiar with the club would appear less like the tourist type or wannabe that Heather was concerned she might be condemned as.

Then they were at the door and through it and paying and into the club. It all went quickly after the waiting. However, Heather guessed that was for the best. While there seemed no questioning of whether she should be here, she did wonder if she would have lost the necessary courage at the last moment. She checked in her bag and jacket at the cloakroom, knowing they would be too cumbersome and probably too hot inside. However, now she worried about her bare arms.

"That's a great top." Tanya observed as they hovered at the entrance to the main part of the club.

Given her tastes, Heather could see why it appealed.

"I like those shorts. I wish I had the courage to get some."

"You should, they'd be great on you. Feel the leather, it's so soft."

Tanya held out a piece of her shorts and feeling incredibly nervous, Heather brushed her fingers over it.

"Mmm, lovely."

Heather felt everything was running away from her. It was as if she was intoxicated by simply going into such a different context or that she had become wrapped up in the role she had been compelled to play. She needed to focus, find her neighbours and get her message across. She had to find some way of getting rid of Tanya without appearing rude. It was going to be embarrassing enough if she ran into her at work after having encountered her here.

"Can I get you a drink?" Heather asked, pushing through the door into the noise of the club.

Tanya nodded and leading Heather to the bar pointed out a bottle of something bright and with vodka; Heather ordered the same, still not wanting to stand out. Soon they were sipping from their bottles looking out across the dance floor. As outside, whilst Heather recognised women she would tell at the first glance were lesbians, there were far more dresses and skirts, long hair and make-up than she guessed she would have expected, though many others had styles she would have certainly identified as 'lesbian'.