Unlikely Love Pt. 02

Elena

When I opened my eyes, I was groggy enough that it took me several seconds to remember where I was. I blinked a few times to let the room come into focus, and I could see the sheer curtains in my bedroom dancing in the breeze coming through my window. I smiled to myself, remembering that I had brought those drapes to every home I lived in as an adult, and about the only thing from my childhood that I still owned. As I gradually became more awake, I remembered the great time I had the previous night with Tamara, the woman who hadn't wanted to be at that party any more than me. The woman that was absolutely wonderful company, one that I was very attracted to, but also a woman that was married and very straight.

While certainly experienced, I am not an expert in dating and relationships, but I know chemistry when I see it, or more accurately, feel it, and I definitely felt it. I could tell that Tamara stayed pretty guarded,, which made sense given the kind of self-absorbed asshole she was married to. Even so, she had let her facade slip a bit, and by the end of the night, had let me see the real her. The real Tamara was smart, funny, engaging, playful and a blast to be around. Straight or not, we hit it off and she responded to me, even after finding out my sexual orientation. In fact, it didn't even faze her, which just made me like her all the more. I gave her attention and she ate it up like cotton candy, not in a pathetic, needy way, but in a good way. I had just met her but already liked the hell out of her.

So the question in my mind was, how could I let her know I had a great time being around her that didn't come across as creepy or uncomfortable? Calling or texting her would seem too pushy, plus if Alan saw it I sense it would go badly for her. Just then I remembered that she had given me her business card, which made me smile. She had taken the initiative, the first step, a fact which delighted me but at the same time, something I didn't want to read too much into.

I reached down to the floor and retrieved my little black purse (I affectionately refer to it as my "party purse") and retrieved the card and stared at it for a second. Her business address was printed in small letters on the bottom right, making the corners of my mouth curve upwards into a goofy grin. I had an idea, one that hopefully would be both clever and nonthreatening. Grabbing my cell phone off the nightstand, I dialed the number of a local florist I used on occasio and they answered on the second ring.

"Best Buds, how can I help you?" came the familiar voice of the owner, an old and dear friend of mine.

"Hey Hank! It's Elena!" I said, my voice unusually chipper.

"Uh oh, I know that tone all too well, so you have finally found yourself a new girl?" Hank joked, knowing my last breakup a year ago had been rather acrid.

"Ha ha, very funny, no it's just a friend, A straight friend, I might add," I said, almost giggling.

"Not buying it, but ok. What do you want to do?" he said with a chuckle.

I thought for a moment. A rose seemed like a good idea. A single rose. Red would be way too pushy and probably scare her off, purple would be maybe too much also. Pink, yes pink sounded perfect, it wasn't too bland or too forward. I cleared my throat. "A rose, a pink one. That's subtle enough, right?"

"Good choice, you don't want to scare off the poor girl before you get her to fall madly in love with you," Hank said, a smile in his voice.

In the rest of the conversation, I provided her name and her office address, with no card or note or anything else. A pink rose showed appreciation, not romance, but also left the door open in a way. I wanted it to be sweet but ambiguous enough to give me an excuse to claim it was just a nice gesture and not anything more. I spent the rest of the day worrying I had overdone it, but also felt anticipation at how she would respond.

Tamara

I loved going to work. It was the one place I felt safe enough to be myself, without any fear of the jealous, insecure reactions that Alan had all too often. I considered it my oasis, my world, the sphere where I could have a measure of control and self-determination. My coworkers were great for the most part, every now and then we would get a new sales rep who would either make fun of me as a woman in IT or relentlessly hit on me. I could never stand up to my husband, but at work I could let my inner bitch out when necessary, which fortunately wasn't often. Needless to say, when a man chose to overstep, I handled it swiftly and firmly.

I walked casually over to my desk and dropped my purse on the credenza in my cubicle and sipped my coffee, turning to look at my calendar to see what my appointments looked like for the day. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of color in front of the keyboard, making me look down to see what it was. I almost snorted my coffee once I realized it was a rose, a single pink rose, whose scent was incredible. At that moment, I found myself wrestling with two completely conflicting reactions, anger at someone clearly hitting on me, and delight at being important enough to make a gesture to. I felt my face redden, signaling that the first feeling had won out.

I grabbed the rose and thrust it into the air. "Hey, not interested here. Married!" I blurted out in a loud, irritated tone. I am somewhat introverted, so when all eyes turned on me, I regretted saying anything. The look of shock and surprise on everyone's faces pretty much told me no one there was responsible for the flower in my hand. Courtney, who sat in the cubicle next to me, whispered, "Floral shop delivered it a half-hour ago, pretty sure it wasn't anyone here."

I felt my cheeks turn bright pink, and clueless what to say now that I had accused the entire office of hitting on me. "Um, guess... I spoke out of turn. Sorry. Must have been my husband." I stammered, trying to cover my outburst. I knew better though. Alan had been romantic once, but it was something that never happened now. I would have felt more confident repeating my baseless accusations to the office again than accepting he would have done it.

Picking up the rose, I took in the sight of it, it was flawless, fragrant and in bloom. Now that I was over my initial reaction, the feeling of delight came back, since it now seemed to be a genuine gesture by someone and since they didn't even reveal who they were it felt nonthreatening. I deeply breathed in the scent and just let myself enjoy the moment for a few seconds before turning my attention to work. When the word enjoy popped into my head, it made me recollect the events of saturday evening at the hotel, and of meeting Elena.

Elena, the delightful diversion at a party I had been dreading for weeks, who I found out was gay, not that it mattered. She had been nothing but respectful, though admittedly a flirt, but certainly nothing even close to inappropriate. Had she sent the rose? What was it supposed to mean? Did it mean anything? Did it even matter? At that moment, I had far more questions than answers, and it made me feel disoriented, and admittedly a little strange. Was it butterflies I was feeling? Certainly not, I was straight, married, and had no inclinations towards women. As I thought more about it, perhaps I was just unaccustomed to attention these days, but had to admit it did make me feel good, important even.

While it was still questionable if the rose was from Elena or some secret admirer, instinct told me that it was indeed her, and I could picture her mischievous grin as if she was watching me make that discovery. Come to think of it, I had been the one handing her my business card, so it all made sense. Hadn't I invited her to have coffee? Yes, it seemed to all make sense now, but I realized that I hadn't gotten her contact information. I frowned, realizing the ball was in Elena's court since she knew how to reach me but not the other way around.

As I was pondering what to do, an email alert popped up on my computer screen, drawing my attention. I clicked on the email, which was titled simply "Coffee tomorrow?" The sender was Elena Carver, telling me what her last name was, and the email itself had a map to a Starbuck's about a mile from my office. I felt my tummy flutter a bit, which I attributed to the emotion of the previous few moments, but did find myself liking the idea of sitting down with her. I did say 'friends' to her, right? No harm then. Ok, it's a friend-coffee-date-not-a-date then!

Elena

I got to the Starbucks forty minutes early, which I admitted to myself was overkill and probably a bad sign that I already had a crush on Tamara. I had been down this road a time or two before and it never ended well, feelings were always one-sided and the other girl tended to either run away or withdraw emotionally. In either case, there were hurt feelings all the way around. Still, I couldn't help myself, trying to play the mental gymnastics that would convince me it was all harmless.

I picked this location for a reason. It tended to lean more heavily on drive-through orders, so the lobby was more sparsely attended. In addition, there was a cozy spot with a partial doorway that had room for just two comfy chairs, and while it wasn't completely private, it had that effect. I positioned the chairs around the small round table so that they were far enough apart that it would provide adequate distance and avoid appearing too intimate.

I found myself looking at the time on my phone constantly, a rookie move for sure; I had to get my mind straight, no pun intended. It took me a while earlier in the morning to figure out the look I wanted to go for. I opted for a navy blue skirt and jacket, with golden embroidery on the lapels, a frilly white (and non-revealing) blouse, and heels. I thought I looked both feminine and professional, an image I happen to love.

I caught sight of Tamara as she approached the front entrance of the coffee shop, the wind tossing her hair about slightly as she walked. Her choice of outfit was a smart one, a red pencil skirt that hugged her hips, a white v-neck blouse that did show a bit of cleavage, and red heels. I liked my look; I loved hers more. She broke into a broad smile when she saw me, and headed over to the little room where I was now standing. Her smile was infectious, I simply had to match her expression.

"Hey there!" I said, thrilled she had accepted my invitation.

"Hey yourself! Gawd I love your outfit!" Tamara said, almost giggling.

Without thinking, I reached out and embraced her, and then almost panicked that I had assumed that was all right with her. "Oh shit, I shouldn't have just assumed..."

"Oh hugs are fine, I am kinda touchy feely myself." she responded, settling into the hug comfortably. Her perfume filled my nostrils and the feeling of her body against mine was absolutely delicious, her curves pressing to mine, the warmth was both comfortable and sexy. It felt like we were connected, as women, and friends, and yet something more than that. I didn't want it to end, but also worried I was enjoying it too much and that she could tell. I reluctantly pulled back from her and settled into my seat. I was a little confused at the interaction, I definitely wanted it, but she seemed remarkably open, almost suggesting that she actually enjoyed the contact.

Tamara smiled as she settled into the other chair, speaking as she sat down. "Um... so... did you... send something to me this morning?" she asked. I could swear I saw her cheeks getting pink.

"Maybe," I responded with a smirk, trying to gauge her reaction.

Tamara giggled, "Just so you know, I stood up and accused just about everyone in the office of being the culprits," she muttered, "So embarrassing!"

I studied her body language and expression before responding further, the last thing I wanted was to come across as some sort of predatory lesbian seemingly intent on bedding her. As before, she was being guarded, but her posture was relaxed, open even, and there was no expression of fear or even concern on her face. No, it was something else, like it was more than just acceptable, it was welcome. Even coming from another woman, Tamara was enjoying the attention. Feigning concern, I leaned in, careful not to touch her. Light flirting at the party had been one thing, and attributable to the alcohol, which was far from the case now. "Listen, I was just trying to say I had a great time hanging out with you the other night. I hope I didn't..."

"Oh, no, no, no, it's fine, I haven't gotten flowers in years," she said, adding, "It was very sweet and considerate, and I so appreciate it." As she spoke, she touched me on the arm, innocently, but it was contact all the same.

I reached up and slipped my hand over hers, squeezing it lightly to reassure her, "I just wanted to..." I hesitated for a moment because the words that were coming to mind were, give you a kiss that will rock your world, or make out with you for an hour, or even eat your pussy and make you feel incredible. I really wouldn't have said that out loud, but there was something about her that I found impossibly attractive. "...respect your boundaries. That's what friends do." I pulled my hand away and leaned back in my chair.

I cleared my throat and looked her in the eyes. "So...IT? That has to be a more male dominated field than insurance even," I said with a smile.

Tamara rolled her eyes and then laughed out loud, it was a full, genuine laugh and it made me smile. "Yeah, the good old boy's club. It started out rough for sure, I got snubbed at work a lot and faced some reluctance by my first customers. I worked my ass off and won them all over. Of course, there are times I still get attitude... or hit on." she said, rubbing her chin, apparently to take care of an itch.

I watched her eyebrow twitch as she uttered her last sentence, so i could tell there was more to the story. I just nodded, not pressing her for more information than she was willing to share, at least just yet. A moment later, it dawned on me that we were sitting at a coffee shop, and we were sitting empty handed. "Hey," I began, "I got you drinks last time, looks like you are in need again. What can I get you?"

"A vanilla latte would be awesome. Yeah, I know it sounds pretty girly."

I chuckled as I stood up. "No need to justify it, hun, and girly is just fine. We can form our own girl's club, how about that?" I said, starting towards the doorway.

"Sounds great!" I heard her say.

Within a few minutes, we were back in our little cozy corner, chatting away like old friends. It felt like we had been friends for years; we had a lot of common interests, like hiking, gardening, travel, and others. "I really like pottery classes." I said at one point. "It gives me a creative outlet and satisfies my need to create things."

"Oh are you kidding me?!" Tamara suddenly blurted out, my statement clearly triggering great enthusiasm in her. "I was an art minor back in college, I loved ceramics! I used to have a room full of my work. Gawd, I miss doing that so, so much."

I just giggled out loud in response to her highly animated response to my admission. "Wow, well now I know how to wind you up," I commented. "When was the last time you made something with pottery?"

I watched the excitement drain out of her as soon as I asked the question, her body language and facial expressions identical to the moment that weekend that her drunk husband interrupted our time together. She retreated behind her practiced mask, and replied, "Well, life got in the way, I suppose. Work, family, and..."

I already knew there was far more to her reaction than met the eye, plus I am a great poker player, and know a bluff when I see one. There was no way in hell I was going to just let that answer stand, and decided I had built up enough good will to push the envelope a little bit. "Bullshit," I said, in a calm tone, to prevent sounding overly aggressive. I wanted to give her a push, not a bitch slap.

Tamara was unfazed by the remark, which made me think either she hadn't heard it or was just ignoring it altogether. Then, it hit her, like it had to sink in for a moment before she realized what I had said. Her face went pink. "Um... excuse me?" she said, almost in a whisper.

"Come on, Tamara, I know we are not lifelong friends or anything, but do you really think I believe that? You went from relaxed to exuberant to almost depressed in the space of seconds. So, once again, I say bullshit."

She composed herself for a moment, looked me in the eye confidently, and simply responded, "Well then, the truth is that I simply lost interest."

Part of me admired just how good Tamara was about putting on a convincing and world-class front that should have earned her an academy award. It was polished, practiced and very believable, but unluckily for her I was world-class at reading people. It was one of the many skills that had made me successful as a professional businesswoman. Looking past her disguise, I could see a woman who was afraid, isolated, and in need of a friend, someone she could trust.

"Look, I think it was more than a good buzz that made you trust me enough to just be yourself at that party, or the coffee just now," I said, taking a sip of my black coffee. "Behind that smokescreen is a pretty, awesome, and amazing woman that I would love to be friends with. The person you are pretending to be is anything but that."

By the look on her face I could tell that was the first time she had not gotten away with her protective play acting. Her expression went from shock, to worry, to fascination, and back to worry. Again. She closed her eyes for a moment and let out a very deep sigh, one that I thought would make her lungs collapse.

"Ok," she said, no longer whispering, and opening her eyes to look at me. "The truth is that Alan hated them and said they were ugly and not worth keeping, so threw them all away one day several years ago when I was at work. I cried for a week. And I never made a thing after that."

I watched her sit up straight, as if a thousand pound boulder had just rolled off her shoulders, but in the next second she burst into tears, lasting for possibly as long as a minute. I pulled her into a sisterly hug and just patted her back, hoping that it would come across as comforting and not anything else.

Once she regained her composure, she grabbed a napkin and wiped her eyes, including the mascara that had run a bit, leaving black streaks down her cheeks. "Feel better now, Tamara?" I asked, making sure I included her name in the question.

"Wow, yeah, I had no idea how much I needed that. Or how much I needed someone smart enough to see right through me. I can pretty much guarantee you, that has never happened before, not even with my parents," she said, taking another deep breath. Damn she was beautiful, even when vulnerable.

"Well, be careful, I charge a steep price for therapy like this," I laughed, poking her in the side.

"Well I haven't felt this liberated in years, so I will gladly pay that price." she quipped, now clearly relaxed with me. "Who should I make the check out to?"

I grinned. My next move was going to be epic. "Not that easy, hun. You have to go to a pottery session with me, no excuses," I said with a smile.

Tamara's mouth dropped open, as she was caught off guard by what I had said. After a second she smiled and answered, "Ok, you're on."

Oh this was going to be fun!

Tamara

I have to admit that I had Elena in mind when I started getting ready for work that morning, mainly because I wanted to impress her. Maybe it was silly, but she was so confident and sure of herself, and had carved a place for her in a man's world, that I wanted to be more like her. Plus, I didn't want to appear as someone deserving pity, on any level.