The second bottle of wine had come and gone. I told myself that if I returned to the office, my concentration level was going to be well below par. I wasn’t drunk, or even tipsy, just not in the mood.
So after a quick phone call to the office to lie to my secretary about my state of health, Ingrid and I tumbled into a black cab and she gave the driver the address of Christian’s waterfront apartment.
“We’re sleeping together while I’m in town,” she said, not bothering to lower her voice. “It’s okay, I know he sleeps with you too.”
I saw the searching look the driver shot into his rear-view mirror, his eyebrows raised as he stored away the information to be shared and laughed over with his friends later.
“Has he ever suggested you and he actually do it?” she asked, placing a hand casually on my knee.
“A few times,” I half whispered.
“Have you ever been tempted?”
“No. Have you?”
“We did try to once, but he couldn’t make it stay hard. It was OK while I was sucking it, but once I stopped and he tried to stick it in me it just went soft. He does have a lovely cock though. I’ve never seen anything so smooth and white. It’s a shame he’s such a queen.”
It started with a kiss. But that’s how it usually starts. I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t expected something like that to happen. I could see the desire in her eyes. I don’t know what she could read in mine.
By the time she inserted the key in the door of Christian’s apartment and pushed it open, I could feel that familiar knot in my belly and the tightness in my spine.
Excusing myself I disappeared into the bathroom, locking the door. I sit down on the toilet, fighting the feelings and the fears that had been creeping up on me all through lunch.
I was no lesbian virgin, my best friend and I had made love together many times while at university.
This was different somehow. Back then I’d been nineteen, and it had been….what had it been? Something we did without asking too many questions or worrying about the consequences. Like so many things people do when they are full of youth and ignorance and hang-ups and alcohol and marijuana. Though the drugs and the alcohol had not been the excuse after the first time.
Since then I’d never really had….. (almost never, there had been that one time of which I have already spoken during my gap-year) any kind of sexual attraction to another woman.
Sitting there my analytical mind weighed the pros and cons of what I knew for certain Ingrid wanted to happen. What I was afraid was likely to happen. This was no light flirtation for her, something to be done, enjoyed and giggled over afterward. All though lunch I’d looked into her eyes as she told me of her life – she was damaged goods.
I couldn’t deny the attraction. It had been there from that first kiss. It had been there as I watched her being eaten by that woman against the wall. At first I had been appalled, and then intrigued, then sad and finally jealous.
I’d refused to talk about it when Christian had tried to the following morning. But he’d known that something had gotten under my skin. That had been his plan all along. He was a game player, a puppet master, who enjoyed setting up situations and then sitting back to watch the situation develop and the carnage that sometimes ensued.
She was waiting sitting on the settee when I came out of the bathroom, a mug of steaming coffee in her hand. I sat down beside her.
I’d made my decision. Or to be more accurate, I’d decided to stop fighting my nature.
“I thought you’d be hiding in there forever,” she said.
“Was I hiding?”
“Yes. But were you hiding from me or yourself?”
I half smiled as I looked into her blue eyes. There was something so vulnerable in them. She was an extremely beautiful woman with her blonde hair, fine Scandinavian features, white, even teeth and lips that would be described as provocatively pouting.
“I could pretend that I don’t know what you are talking about, but that’s a lie,” I said, my eyes focused on her mouth.
“No, let’s not pretend. Let’s just come straight out and say it. I want you.”