The View
This story was influenced by a letter to a problems page in the magazine of 'The Observer' newspaper of 20th January 2013. It referred to the type of flats and the resulting kind of views that Heather gets in this story. This story was also, in part, shaped by the lovely short movie 'Rosebud'. Perhaps this is why, though this story does feature lesbian sex, as I was writing it, it evolved more into a romance and I am alerting readers to that fact.
*
"Come, have a look at this." Gordon called.
Heather put down the box she had been carrying on the worktop in her kitchen and walked through into the large living room. Her friend Gordon was standing by one of the room's floor-to-ceiling windows gazing over at the matching block of flats opposite.
"What am I supposed to be looking at?" Heather asked as she walked up to stand beside her much taller friend.
"There, look." Gordon jabbed his finger at the window glass, too new to be marked yet.
Heather tried to look in the direction he was pointing. She guessed that it was something happening in one of the flats opposite. Though it was mid-afternoon, the day was typically dull for this time of year and there were already lights shining out from some of the flats. Most were dark and she expected that that was because to afford this kind of place you needed to be working hard at a well-paid job.
"Third floor up, three in from the end. It must be the matching one for this place." Gordon explained.
Now Heather could make it out. There were low lights on in the room next to the living room as she looked some more Heather could see it was clearly fitted out as a bedroom. A huge bed dominated it. Cavorting across it were two naked women, clearly enjoying a sexual encounter.
"Hey, what's caught your attention?" Sarah, Gordon's wife, asked as she staggered into the room with a stack of things.
Heather turned around with a smile and went to take some of the pile of belongings from her friend before they tumbled to the floor.
"Thanks." Sarah replied rather breathlessly.
"Yes, I know, I'll get a ground floor place next time."
"No, it's no problem, certainly not for us."
Gordon and Sarah had been into climbing, fell walking and orienteering even when they had all been at university. Heather guessed that this was far less of a challenge than the exploits she had heard about with them hiking up mountainsides with rucksacks. Once Heather had wondered how things might have turned out if she had met Gordon before Sarah had done. However, it had only taken one trip to Snowdonia with the couple for her to know that she simply did not derive any fun from the things that he lived for. Her idea of a holiday was a sunny beach or at most lunching in some historic Italian town. Trekking in pouring rain held none of the attractions; not a touch of the excitement, it clearly held for Gordon and now Sarah.
Sarah walked over to stand beside her husband. Though she was taller than Heather, he still had a head height over her.
"Just a couple of lesbians in action." Gordon said lightly.
Sarah chuckled. "I wonder if they realise they are on show."
"I expect they love it. Having an audience probably gives them a frisson."
"Frisson." Sarah repeated, mimicking Gordon's accent. "Well, I did say Heather that this place is all rather too open for my liking. It might be modern and trendy but anyone could look in. I'd put your bed the other way, with the headboard against the window. Well, at least until you can get some curtains fitted."
"Yes, it's probably worst at this time of year with the short days, once you switch the lights on anyone can see clearly in through the windows. I guess it's why I got a reasonable price. There can't be that many exhibitionists around." Heather noted.
She had been concerned about the vertigo-inducing windows that made it appear as if she could simply step off into the air. She had worried that this room in particular could become like a greenhouse in the summer and whilst she had been reassured that the windows had been especially tinted, seeing her amorous neighbours so clearly she did think she might have been misled. Saying that, however, there were consolations. She did not have to put up with whatever 1970s wallpaper her landlord favoured and this place was quite a few stops closer to work. In addition, she was a woman in her mid-twenties in London; there would be time enough for retreating to the suburbs in a decade or two.
Heather looked over at the two women feeling impolite to do so, but also fascinated. While she was sure she had encountered lesbians at university she had never really been sure and had always been too embarrassed to ask. She remembered some statistic from an equal opportunities course she had had to attend in her last job that told her ten percent of women were attracted to other women. She was not certain, however, if that meant bisexuals too, though she was certain she had never met one of them. Not that she had given it much thought down the years, but prompted by the scene in front of her, she did now wonder what it was that lesbians did for sex. She guessed they used dildoes or something like that to replace the key element that they were missing between them. She imagined they could lick each other too. Whilst down the years Heather had wanted to have her boyfriends do that to her, she had never managed to persuade any of them to do it for long enough to have much noticeable effect and so she felt it was probably over-rated.
As Heather watched, the main thing that came to her was the twisting together of two bodies that looked pretty similar. That was unusual, she always expected sexual partners to be instantly distinguishable apart. Not, of course, that she was in the habit of watching couples copulate, but on some movies she had seen there had been tasteful sex and you could always tell easily who was who. With this couple was it the blonde now on top or the brunette? She could not tell.
"Come on, we've still got quite a lot to bring up if we're going to get to the restaurant in anything like good time." Sarah said, flapping an empty carrier bag at Gordon and Heather in turn. "You'll have time enough for the free sex show later."
****
Heather closed the door to the flat and flicked on the lights. Though things were still in disarray at least her fridge with some contents and the television were in place; even the washing machine had been plumbed in. The wireless connection surprisingly had come on as promised and most of her clothes were hung in the wardrobe. Best of all the bed had been assembled and was ready with new sheets and duvet for her to fall into. Heather grinned to herself. She was lucky to have Gordon and Sarah to help out and she had the next day in order to get really established. For a house move it had actually gone smoothly and now she was happy to be in her space. The good food and the wine she had consumed simply added to her feeling of wellbeing.
Heather hung up her jacket and bag and padded to the kitchen to fetch a drink. Though she had tried a range of things, she still found she enjoyed milk and poured herself a large glass from the over-sized bottle Sarah had supplied. She went on into the bedroom, feeling too weary even to channel surf. She slumped down in the chair by the bedroom window and looked out across the parts of London she could see. Naturally her eyes were largely filled with the matching block opposite. It had a pattern of lights illuminated in various flats as if it was trying to communicate some message in symbols to Heather's block. Now that it was early evening more occupants were visible. Some were concealed behind curtains, but many had retained the stark glass and the open view right inside. She did not feel intimidated by that, perhaps she even felt excited: she was at one with the city, as if able to fly out and into it at any moment she chose. The angle of the chair meant she had to turn to see across to the lesbian couple. They were there in their bedroom, in black teeshirts and brief shorts with pizza and wine distributed around them on the bed. The flickering light told Heather that the black shape against the window was the television. For a moment she wondered how easily it could be viewed on bright days.
Heather found herself watching the women, getting to know their features. She laughed to think that she would probably have difficulty recognising them with their clothes on. However, there was something about them that kept her looking. Perhaps it was because they appeared to be close to her in age and even their furniture fitted Heather's taste. She imagined their incomes were probably similar to her own to be able to afford to live in this part of London. All of this she had in common and yet the fact that both of them loved a woman and had passionate sex with her, meant they were part of a world removed from Heather's life. She guessed it was as if her view had somehow shown her people from another country or even of a different time. She might recognise what they were doing but it would be unfamiliar, alien even to what she knew. She was not alarmed or disgusted; Heather counted herself as broad minded enough not to get upset by anyone's sexuality. As she thought about it she realised that what was niggling her it was that she felt uneasy being able to indeed see right into this couple's private life. Of course, part of that could simply be blamed on a fad in architecture that meant she could watch them this way; a way most people would try to avoid. However, Heather recognised that there was also a bit of curiosity. She likened it to watching a service in a temple: she could be a spectator but she would never be even part of the world she was looking into. Now she felt patronising as if she had put herself in the role of an anthropologist observing a remote tribe.
Heather realised that as her mind had been running through these thoughts, the two women had begun kissing. They killed the television and cleared the bed of debris. The blonde lay back and the brunette straddled her, almost tearing off her teeshirt. Her body was trim, her breasts perky and Heather imagined the two of them at a gym. Soon both were naked. The blonde still sat across her partner, it seemed, pressing her sex down on to her. They then shifted so the brunette's thigh slid between the blonde woman's legs. Then the blonde women lunged forward and began to gently tease her partner's breasts. Then she dipped so her mouth, Heather guessed, closed around them in turn. That was something no man had ever done to her.
Heather laughed, wondering if she could at least pick up some ideas from these two, however different their sex was going to be to what she might indulge in. Then it was hands, hands and tongues as the women explored each other's bodies. Oil appeared and was soon being slowly eased into the two bodies, giving them a glistening look in the low light. Heather did wonder why they did not go into darkness as she imagined most couples did by this stage. Perhaps that was something else distinct to lesbians: seeing your partner's body, seeing your own body, seeing their similarities and their differences. A new idea dawned on Heather that she felt foolish for not realising this fact before: if you were turned on by women, then surely, as a woman, just looking at your own body would arouse you. She wondered if that was an advantage or an inconvenient distraction. She guessed from what she had been told about what lesbians wore they concealed their outlines. This suggested that self-arousal was a potential risk. Clearly, she decided it only applied to lesbians, given the kind of clothes the typical gay man she imagined she had seen in Soho, wore.
The women's play continued but it was only when they had finished, throwing back their heads, giving silent screams or moans or whatever sound they had emitted, and lay panting and sweating, that Heather glanced at her watch. In the ambient light she realised she had sat here for over two hours. 'How do these women find the energy?' Heather wondered. This evening's session had to have run four or five times longer than any time she had had sex. Now she felt guilty as she recalled Sarah's words about a sex show. She had sat here gazing at two women indulging in the most private of activities. In this place, of course, private was defined perhaps differently to elsewhere. Yet, what did that say about her? Was she actually a voyeur? Had it simply been the novelty of such a sight that had ensnared her? Was it no different to coming back from an evening's drinking and watching a trashy movie on television? Heather pondered whether living alone in this city she was busily turning into some kind of pale replica of a man.
Heather got up and headed to her bed, too tired now to shower. She made sure she was well back from the window before she shed her clothes and found out her onesie. Snug within it she clambered beneath the duvet and wished for an instant that there was someone there to simply drape an arm over her. As she closed her eyes, however, her vision was filled with the sight of women, naked, caressing and kissing. It was just like when she watched too many action movies in an evening or when she passed the time playing a computer game: the images lingered long in her mind's eye. She stared at the dark wall; not that dark given all the light pollution flowing in from always lit London. Heather did not know when sleep took her but it did.
****
It was this evening's 'show' which had tipped the balance. With the passing days, Heather had become quite accustomed to seeing her neighbours playing naked, usually in the bedroom, sometimes in the living room, even emerging from the kitchen covered with food items or the bathroom, rather too perfectly shiny from whatever shower or bath they had shared. However, this weekend it was clearly role play. The brunette was naked bar a collar, leather wristlets and anklets. The blonde, in contrast, had been laced into a cinching purple corset and slid into thigh-length boots, yet her sex remained bare. Now she was playing with a flat piece of leather, slapping it against her palm before taking it to the bum of her partner. For ease of reference in her own mind, following an internet search, she had named the dark-haired one Valerie and the blonde, Portia.
Valerie reacted strongly to the spanks, but as she could tell from the view through the binoculars Heather guessed it was all a game and her expressions were over-exaggerated. At first Heather had felt embarrassed when she had dug out this small pair of binoculars that her ornithologist younger sister had given her some years before. However, there had been details she had wanted to check, precise things about what this pair were wearing, even the name on a DVD box that she felt she had to see clearly. For now, she was seeing too much. How could anyone get pleasure from being smacked? Yet, still, there was something quite intriguing about the leather clothes and Heather did wonder what it must feel like to be in a tight corset or such long boots. Despite that fact, these things seemed to declare more clearly than before that these women were from a different world, a place where such clothes were, perhaps not normal, certainly something not shocking.
Portia locked a bar between Valerie's legs and then turned her over on to her back on the bed Heather found she was still watching and chided herself. She was startled by the little shiver she gave as she realised that there was little Valerie could do to stop Portia toying with her sex. The handcuffs, incongruously lined with black fur, that soon shackled Valerie's wrists to the head of the bed, made that fact certain. Heather was suddenly aware that she had held her breath and her heart was shuddering. She realised she was waiting for the moment when a finger, perhaps that black vibrator, maybe the purple one or even just the end of the spanking toy, was slid into Valerie. Then Portia strode away. Heather let out a gasp; she was terribly wired, and recognised that the moment of consummation had been denied. She sensed the frustration that the shackled Valerie must be feeling, laid out ready for her lover, only for her to walk away. Yet, maybe, that heightened the anticipation even more.
Exasperated, Heather turned away and headed to the spare room where she generally left her laptop. She slumped down at it thinking through what she should do next. The couple did not have sex every night, that was true, and she got a break of a few days once per month. Though she would have questioned some, perhaps many, of their practices, she had seen them a couple of times heading diligently to work. She had in fact admired the matching, very sharp, stylish suits they wore: long blazers and tailored trousers that showed off their forms nicely but with sufficient gravitas for work. There were occasions when they even turned out in skirts even if they were generally the wrap-around type. Portia's hair was perhaps shorter than the current style, but it suited her bright blonde shade well and certainly seemed to go with the business demeanour she had on weekdays. Valerie's long curls were even better and she had wondered about asking for that style from her hairdressre for herself rather than sticking to simply long and straight all the time.
Aside from the sex, Heather realised, she had nothing against the couple. However, that one thing had now distorted her life. She found that she would sit staring at them, wondering what they would do next. Though she would not admit it, if one was away or they had rowed, she would feel a little bereft. She would not admit that it was like an addiction and she would swear off looking for a night or two or even three. This could stretch to a full week if she coincided it with a time when they were not as active as usual. Then she would find an evening had passed and she had simply sat watching, too much the voyeur to even know she was doing it. If she could not stop herself then she needed to stop them.
****
Heather tossed the book on to her bedside table. It was getting late, but she was finding that she was not at all sleepy. Once more she closed her eyes but all she could see was the soft, smooth flesh and then one or the other of her neighbours' faces, smiling, their eyes closed as they breathed heavily and turned and squirmed with pleasure. Heather tried to muster some ill-feeling towards the couple, but found herself instead making excuses. They were doing no-one any harm; they were simply enjoying their bodies and each other's. Then came the treacherous thoughts that Heather had tried to hold off in the preceding days. If what they were doing was not a bad thing, perhaps then it might be good. Perhaps, in fact, it might be something that she would like to try? She would not contest that being so intimate with a woman had to be distinct to being with a man. From what she had seen the pace was different, though it could accelerate as it did with men. She was sure that there were women who were selfish lovers, but surely with each partner equipped with the same biology, things must at least start from a greater level of equality.
Heather tried to focus on men she knew. Movie actors seemed too distant and in many cases too American for her tastes. Her mind flicked to Gordon but that felt like betrayal and had no arousal in it. She tried to think back to men she had fancied at university and in her last job, but their features were difficult to grasp now. None of them had been particularly exciting anyway. Marcus was a no-go area still. She came back to her current colleagues but did not know them well enough to base a fantasy on them. Most were middle aged and married anyway or real chancers that turned her off with the first flash of their cheesy smiles. Then she was fantasising about having her nipples licked, surrounded by lips. That was good; it allowed her a flare of arousal. A little self-consciously she let her fingers stray to her pussy and found it was already moist. She felt an incessant pressure against her body and dipped her head, feeling in her fantasy, hair falling on her face, long hair. At first it was a honey blonde the shade she recognised that her boss Vicki had, then she looked up into the face of a woman, was it Vicki? Was she dreaming of sex with her boss? The face morphed and Heather recognised the bright burnished copper hair and features of that woman from human resources appeared, then the brown of Tina from Finance. Startled, Heather snapped her eyes open. This was going too far. Her neighbours' antics were now contaminating her most intimate thoughts. She had to stop this; she needed a plan of action. What that would entail, Heather did not really know.
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'.
As her eyes circled the room seeking out her neighbours who she realised would be pretty unexceptional in here, Heather suddenly felt the intensity of being surrounded simply by women. Whilst she was certain some were here just for a drink and a dance, she was also sure many had sex on their minds and sex with one of the other women around them, whether already a partner or someone they hoped would be. Heather felt a kind of honesty in that realisation, a freedom. Whilst they might not be the mainstream outside, in here no-one questioned their tastes. Saying that, maybe the distinction was less clear than a few years back, given how lesbian culture fed into so much popular culture these days.
As she watched the women dancing, Heather's mind once more filled with the images of her neighbours. Of course dancing could easily be seen as a precursor for sex, but now having been jammed with such visions over the past few weeks, the connection was all that more immediate. Heather squirmed as once again she was assailed with the sights in her mind's eye of entwining female bodies, the imagined scent and touches and the burst of arousal that she tried to shake off. Here it was different; here such images were legitimate and were probably featuring in the thoughts of at least a few of the women in front of her.
"Enjoying yourself?" Tanya asked.
Heather was brought back to the here and now. A little guiltily, she realised that she had been simply scanning the room and had neglected her guide to this scene.
"Sorry?"
Tanya smiled broadly, an expression that Heather realised she liked on her.
"Eyes closed, that grin on your face. You're here, but it's taking you somewhere else."
"Was it that obvious?" Heather asked a little nervously worrying that she had given her inner thoughts away too clearly.
Tanya answered with a laugh. "Which one is she? Point her out."
Heather realised that yet again misunderstanding had so easily come. How should she answer? She guessed some form of honesty would work best.
"No-one in particular."
"Okay. I thought, I had begun hoping I guess, that you might be glancing sideways."
It was another reference Heather realised she had not fully understood. She had now developed a tactic to deal with it when that happened.
"How about you?"
"I've surprised myself. I spotted her outside."
"That's good. Don't let me stop you, go over, have a word."
Heather spoke with seriousness, wondering if the opportunity had come to shake off Tanya without sounding impolite. Tanya gave a rather weak smile and Heather realised she had probably missed something else now.
"Can I get you a drink?"
"Sure, same again."
"Okay." Heather said, grasping her bottle so she could order replicas.
"I'll find somewhere quieter, you come find me out." Tanya rested her hand on Heather's bare arm as if seeking reassurance that she would.
Heather hesitated, she had wondered if she should indeed shake off Tanya and get back to her hunt. However, she was increasingly certain that the couple had given her the slip and despite their instructions to the cab driver had never ended up here. However, she sensed something like vulnerability in Tanya, a concern that Heather would not come back. Heather felt she had no option and realised that in her focus in tracking down her neighbours she had overlooked how she had already mucked up Tanya's plans and it would be simply rude to now abandon her. Unless she handled this carefully, even if she could dodge Tanya in the club, there would be the risk of great embarrassment if they ran into each other at work.
"Of course I will."
Tanya smiled warmly at that and stood for a moment staring at Heather as if expecting something else.
"I couldn't finish two bottles on my own." Heather joked and it broke the moment.
"Not in one go."
Tanya let go Heather's arm and she realised how soft the touch had been: noticeable but not a grasp. Funnily it had seemed to make a connection that calmed the torrent of thoughts and concerns she was tackling this evening. Tanya gestured in the direction she was heading and Heather nodded before turning to the bar. She was served quickly and was soon back with Tanya, standing closed to a pillar talking with two black-haired women one European and one East Asian looking.
"This is Kaoru and Marije." Tanya said.
Kaoru had a moon-like face with a thrust of black spiky hair. She was dressed in a stunning red dress and patent matching shoe-boots. Marije had a similar length cut but it was slicked down and Heather was reminded of what she had done to her own hair. She wore a tight black sleeveless top with bright white buttons down the top. Beneath were black leggings that showed shapely legs. Her feet wore flat black patent boots. Heather tried to stop imagining herself dressed similarly if she had to come back here to complete her plan.
"I'm Heather, erm, hello. You must be Tanya's friends."
"Yes. Unfortunately a bit of a crisis has come up." Kaoru explained. "We were keen to find Tanya before we went. I am happier she's not in here on her own."
"Yes, well, er, well, I'll look after her." Heather said hesitantly. "We work together, well, at the same place. That's how I know her."
Now she had gone beyond worrying about being mistaken for being Tanya's partner to realising that the chance of getting away from her had all but disintegrated.
"You'll have to come over for dinner, Heather, one night." Marije invited.
Now Heather worried what sort of hole she was quickly digging for herself.
"Well, I don't sleep well and I don't live round here, it could be tricky." Heather scrambled for excuses.
She saw Marije taking in what she was saying and again cursed her own loathing of being seen to be rude.
"But, I'll liaise with Tanya, I'm sure we can sort something out, that'll be great." Heather back-tracked quickly but it appeared to have a positive effect.
"That's good to hear. Now, we really must head out. We'll see you soon."
Then there was the kissing between all four and Heather just went with it. It was not that different to if she met with a group of American businesswomen and they all insisted on air kissing. She tried not to worry about if it had any other connotations and told herself it was probably all just about 'sisterhood' in this context as at work.
Soon the pair were gone and finally Heather handed over the bottle and clambered aboard her own stool next to the one Tanya was already on. From here Heather could see other parts of the club and from a different perspective. She resumed her search, though she wondered whether there was much point and she should simply head home. Saying that, given what she had told Kaoru she did not want to seem to be going back on it and, after all, there would be no harm in hanging on a little longer. It seemed a shame to Heather that Tanya was a lesbian, otherwise she could imagine going out with her for a drink in a bar or even to see a movie. However, she knew that that would not work and one of the key things she did with friends, checking out the men, would fall flat.
Then she heard Tanya give her soft laugh. "I like you, you're a challenge, but I like a challenge and you make me laugh."
"Okay, that sounds good." Heather responded, less certain than she sounded.
"So, let's rephrase it. What's giving you that pleasure at the moment?"
"Just the whole thing, the place, the people, the dancing." She rambled not certain how she should answer given that here she was haunted by doubts not buoyed up by having fun. "I sort of get, erm, flashbacks." Heather sought to explain.
"Oh, now that does sound interesting." Tanya responded with exaggerated delight. "Well, if you get flashbacks from the dancing, let's dive in."
Tanya took the bottle from Heather's hand and then took the hand itself and led her into the crowd. Heather had not danced in public since university, but she had to admit it would be fun. The music was a bizarre selection but all of it was accessible. No-one seemed fussed about anyone's dance style. Heather moved around like any typical British woman on the dance floor who was not yet that drunk that she had no control of her limbs. She did not know if it was worse here than when she was simply looking on. Now she was surrounded by women in the widest range of styles possible, all moving, back and forth and around her. There was a buzz that she guessed would be present in any night club, but quickly she recognised right here it was just ramming back into her all those secret, mischievous, almost naughty, perhaps even guilty, sensations. Even more than ever, the fantasies in which a woman, even the woman she was dancing with she now remembered, slipped into the role of sexual partner, were taking on an almost physical form. Of course, she was not going to have sex with any of these women, but there were elements of women in motion, with a passion, with desire, that made what had up to now been just in her mind, become so much more tangible.
Then the music slowed and Heather wondered if somehow she had been transported back to a disco of the kind her aunt had talked about. Slow tunes had even been a feature of package holidays she remembered from her teenage years. Yet, the discos had never been like this and she certainly had never found herself caught up in the arms of a woman who was now resting her head on her shoulder. Heather went rigid, highly conscious, as she tried to step in the way those around her doing, of the pressure of Tanya against her. There was the yielding weight of her breasts and the scent of her skin and the braids that fell against her and the feel of her breathing, even of her pacing heart. Now only one woman was in her mind's eye, only Tanya with her flame hair and the body that could do all of those things that had run through Heather's imagining for what now felt like so long. Heather cursed all that she had done. This whole evening had failed. Rather than get her neighbours to stop or at least obscure the love making that had plagued her evenings, she had ended up achieving almost the opposite. Now she had a colleague not only thinking she was a lesbian, but who now apparently fancied her. More than that, even if she could dodge out of that mistake, the visions, images, fantasies, that she had hoped to banish had been given an actress. Worse still, she now had a face for the fantasy woman but one that she might happen to see any working day. Melodramatic thoughts of fleeing from here, of resigning from her job, of at least going on long-term sick leave all flowed in her mind.
The next tune was in a similar style. Heather wondered if she could make an excuse and get out of this situation. However, Tanya lifted her head and gazed right into Heather's eyes. Something in the gesture gave Heather a delightful shiver. She realised she had seen the couple doing this. Moments later, Tanya's lips were smooth and moist against her own. They had an impossible slipperiness that almost startled Heather. She gasped, surprised not only by the sensation but also how good it felt to her.
Tanya pulled back. "Too fast?"
Heather did not know how to reply. Of course it was too fast, and, in fact, too far. It was from a completely alien agenda. Heather realised that she had so worried that she ran the risk of being found out as an imposter, that her efforts had made her seen to be a perfect insider. A new form of guilt about the blunders she had made that had encouraged Tanya to make these misapprehensions came to her. She did not know what to say and worried that any words she came up with would simply cause upset. Unfortunately Tanya appeared to misunderstand Heather's hesitation. She now had her hands clasping Heather's hips and as she leant back a little, their eyes roughly on the same level, Heather was conscious of how her body was pressed against Tanya. Only some few layers of cloth and leather separated the very heart of their sex and Heather was unnerved as she realised that that fact made her aroused. No, that was not true. It was clear now that she had not realised that she been aroused for a while and despite her missing that it was now stepping up a level.
Tanya came in again and her lips were soft and her tongue probing as if asking more questions; checking on where Heather wanted this to go. Heather wanted this to stop. She wanted her decision to be reversed and her to be back in her flat, distracting herself with something rather than being here where it was like her dreams had come real. Madly she wondered if allowing Tanya into that fantasy had somehow magically brought her here. Yet she did not break free, she did not stamp off, she did not even blush and apologise. It was too pleasurable for that. Maybe it was because her mind was loaded with lesbian sexual scenes that her body was content to yield, well, perhaps, not just yield, as now her tongue began a pursuit of Tanya's.
In her mind, Heather kept thinking this was wrong, but that sense just came up against a feeling that it was right. If her body was enjoying it, then why should she stop? No-one was here to question her, to criticise her, in fact the complete opposite. She was surrounded by people who she knew, if they gave it any thought, would have applauded her actions. Had her body and her mind somehow conspired to trick her? Or was it the opposite, had her conscious self, the part wrapped up in what 'should be' been lying to her about what she truly felt? Had her obsession with her neighbours not simply been because their sexual activities appeared incessant and there was no way to block them out? Was it more because she was envious of them and what they so clearly had? Had she come here less to stop them and more to mimic them? Those arguments appeared to be weak given how much she had planned this all out. Yet, still, she could not deny that a part of her clearly liked what she was doing with Tanya.
Heather realised that as these thoughts had been running through her mind, she had been kissing and dancing with and embracing this woman as if this was typical activity for her on a Saturday night. Steadily though things began slotting into place and as Tanya had become the woman she envisaged in those sexual positions she increasingly felt a need to make them real. Even the resistant part of her, the part that said that there was no way she could be a lesbian, was coming to feel that acting out such activities might at least purge them from her mind.
"There's a lot to work out." Heather said. "I need to get home."
She saw the look of concern on Tanya's face, but from the evidence she had so far, she guessed that she would be accepting. After all, she had already wondered if this was going too fast. However, Heather felt sad at having to disappoint Tanya. She also found herself recognising that, in fact, she was having the best fun she had had in ages. Ending it now was not what she really needed.
"Shall we take this somewhere quieter?" Heather added quickly with a smile as if it had been her intention all along.
She was rewarded with that smile from Tanya that she was finding she was becoming addicted to.
"Certainly."
Thus, within the next few minutes, Heather found herself leaving 'No Panic Room' having achieved nothing that she had come here for, Instead she was feeling at least curious, if not a little excited, that she was going home with a woman she had been dancing hip to hip with and kissing for the last thirty minutes. Somehow that made her feel very adult, very in control of her life, two things that she recognised she was enjoying. They got a taxi without difficulty and were soon on their way to Heather's flat. Tanya held her hand and Heather fluctuated between feeling pleased and self-conscious about that.
"Nice place." Tanya said was she walked into the flat.
"Thank you. Yes, I like it."
"Great view."
At that Heather coughed nervously feeling that if it had not been for the view nothing that she was doing at the moment would have ever happened. It had been so long since she had brought anyone back to her place, with Marcus it had always been his, that she did not know how to play it.
"There's wine, white."
"Fine."
Heather grabbed the bottle and two glasses and went into the living room. Tanya was stood close to the window but with her back to it. Heather did not know where to put herself so set down the bottle and glasses and walked over to Tanya, standing a little out of her reach.
"You've not done this before." Tanya said quietly.
Heather blushed feeling it ironic that she was now self-conscious about confessing that. "No. I've not done relationships at all for a while. Sorry, now that sounds desperate ... Let me start again. No, I have not done this before."
"And when you said you were out, you meant just out for the evening as I first thought but then you seemed to be beyond that; looking for something else."
"Yes, you read that so right. I was on a mission."
"Okay. To find your neighbours?"
Heather laughed. "Sort of. More complex than that. Now I see it was more about me than them. I've just been, well, I've just been seeing things. Sorry, no that sounds like I am mad. I keep imagining scenes, scenes of women, well, having sex. Then it became me as one of those women, having sex and once it was me having it, sex, having sex with you. Not just you, some other women from work as well. No, not all at once, okay?"
"Okay." Tanya said slowly but with a smile that showed she was going along with Heather.
"In the club, where there were so many women who were probably going to be having sex with women, well, of course, it rather crashed on me."
"And while you worried about it, your body went with the flow."
"I guess so."
"I know so. I've seen enough aroused women to know the signs, trust me. I am not going to try to convince you that we need to be making love, because I think your body has agreed to that already. If you weren't a lesbian at heart, then it would not react that way. No-one can make you a lesbian, it's just what you are."
Heather wondered if that was in fact true. Her irritated part complained that the behaviour of the women across the street had simply filled her mind so full of lesbianism that she could no longer see things any other way and maybe her body had been reprogrammed by all of that.
"You liked the kissing?" Tanya asked.
Heather just blushed again.
"Now don't pretend you didn't. You had the chance to bail out and did you take it? No. So, I'd say you liked the kissing. That doesn't mean you have to have more. Just tell me know and I'll have my drink and I'll be out of here. The last thing I want you to feel is that you were rushed or pushed or misled or anything like this. I know you're a lesbian but you need to come to that in your own time. I would like it to be with me, but perhaps it's not tonight; perhaps it's not with me. I'm a big girl, I can handle that."
"Okay. I'm hearing all that."
"Good. So would you like more kissing? I think we were doing well with that, not to tip your opinion in any direction."
Heather knew in theory that she could say no, but in all practicality was incapable of doing so. In the last few minutes, Tanya had risen from being high in her estimation to someone she could think of seeing, of seeing regularly, of being a lover, a girlfriend, a partner. That was all too fast, but Heather knew she would be lying if she denied that now it seemed more than possible, to deny it would simply be churlish, foolish, the worst thing she might ever do. She took small steps to Tanya and pressed her lips on to hers. As their tongues mingled once more Heather knew that Tanya had been entirely right. However much she might question it, her body wanted sex with this woman. The pair stood looking into each other's eyes. Slowly Tanya reached out and gently took one of Heather's nipples between her fingers tugging the cloth of her top in and Heather shuddered knowing that she had thought of this for so many weeks now.
"I'm good on theory." Heather said. "Just need to put it into practice."
"Don't tell me, you've been reading up on lesbian sex and yet held back from trying it. What a waste. Come on."
Tanya abruptly shed her waistcoat, then unclipping her corset allowed her breasts to spill out. As she took in Tanya's beauty, Heather realised that she had been wasting time and all the images in her mind had been something to grasp rather than push away. She dipped down and slipped one of Tanya's nipples into her mouth. Tanya gasped a yes. Gently pulling back she tugged at Heather's top and it was soon off over her head and then her bra was being taken from her. Then Tanya was unzipping her jeans and pulling them off, taking away the socks and pressing her palm against Heather's panties, moist with the arousal. As Tanya lent forward, Heather saw the large foxglove tattoo on her back. She ran her fingers along it, sending a shudder from Tanya.
"Sorry."
"No it's nice. Where you're tattooed it'll always be different, more alert to touch. Are you a blank canvas?"
Heather nodded. She had already noticed the small stud in the side of Tanya's nose back at the club and had counted up the earrings she could see and knew that these too signalled what excited Tanya.
"Well there's nothing quite like skin ink. I think that's why a lot of us have tats, our sex is all about sensations. The piercings too. You know these days, it's all pretty common but there's still that sense of something a little different, something with a little ..."
"Frisson."
"Precisely. Not that I'm saying that by next weekend you need to be pierced and painted to the nines." Tanya laughed.
Heather's mind spiralled with visions of her looking like a female Yakuza covered in cavorting dragons. To distract herself she began to shed her panties, then turned to removing the leather shorts from Tanya.
"I've got to feel your cheeks in a pair of these." Tanya joked.
"Sure thing. We'll swap tomorrow morning." Heather said it lightly, but realised with a jolt that there was no reason it could not be true. "I've not tried a corset."
"Tomorrow morning?"
"You weren't thinking that after all this effort I was going to let you escape until I've had my fill of you." Heather burst into giggles as her attempt at sounding forcefully seductive came crashing down.
"Whatever you say, lover."
Tanya let her shorts fall to the carpet and then pulled down her briefs. Heather had little time to take in just how beautiful this woman was naked. It was as if she had discovered a new form of beauty. Perhaps there was something in that. Before she might have admired a woman's beauty like she might admire a painting or a flower, but it missed an entire element: admiring it because it aroused you. That was what she experienced now. She hardly believed it was real as Tanya grasped her waist and came in close for more deep kisses. Heather shuddered as her nipples collided with Tanya's. It was like something impossible, a whole new set of sensations. Heather found it ironic that these were sensations she had been fighting so hard to shut out of her life.
They pressed together tighter and Tanya slid her smooth thigh between Heather's. The strength of that felt good and unashamedly, Heather ground her pussy lips into it. Increasingly all that she had witnessed her neighbours do and steadily seen herself enacting made sense. This was how women had sex and she was enjoying exploring it. Heather reached down with her hand to stroke across Tanya's pubic hair and probed for the slickness of her pussy. Sliding a thumb between the wet lips into the warmth felt unusual, but exciting. Of course she had toyed with her own pussy, but to be inside another woman, to know what kind of pleasure she could bring, was something different. Her knuckle brushed against Tanya's emerging clitoris bringing out a gasp and a giggle from Tanya.
"If I didn't know, I'd say you'd done this before, ah, oh, yes, yes, that's it keep it up, oh God, please, yes, that's it." Tanya gasped in Heather's ear as her head lolled against her shoulder.
Now Heather felt fingers approaching her sex. They moved more carefully than she had done, but Heather imagined Tanya was conscious that such sex might be unfamiliar to her. As one finger then another slid in and curved seeking out her g-spot, Heather cursed herself for not realising sooner how good this could be. She felt drunk on the sensation, on the feeling of the soft and smooth body of Tanya, on her contours, her breasts, her very scent. She breathed deeply guessing that she would soon associate what she inhaled with Tanya and with sex. This act was making sure that she would be even more aroused by Tanya in future; the very traces of her body would bring back these memories. Now Tanya's fingers were pulsing and Heather was finding it difficult to focus as Tanya's thumb began to brush on her clitoris. In an instant Heather felt as if her body had been thumped and she staggered, her legs feeling drained of strength, her head struggling to focus, her nipples feeling as if they could strain no further. Heather grunted and again: a primeval sound which she only dimly recognised as a sound of pleasure. Her system had been so disrupted that it could not comprehend that she had orgasmed. It struck again and Tanya moved her hands to support Heather and guide her to the sofa.
Panting, Heather tried to speak. Her tongue felt engorged and her body shivered as though it was in intense heat. She quivered, useless while she tried to regain control of her body rocked by the pleasure of what she had done.
"Heather." Tanya said softly. "You are a lesbian. You love women."
That recognition, that admitting of what she properly was, however forced upon her by Tanya startled her senses once more and Heather had a after ripple, another climax that she could better savour.
"Yes, yes, God, ahhh." Incoherence was all Heather could muster.
Heather was not really conscious of how much time had passed but her sweat had cooled and she felt as if she had completed a hard gym session.
"Sorry about that." Heather muttered.
Tanya laughed. "Shut up, God, one orgasm and you're all contrite. You're in the midst of a lesbian sex session here, just enjoy it."
Heather laughed and leant over to quickly kiss Tanya, that action simply adding a different layer, an extra kind of pleasure. This evening had blown away so much of what had constrained her, she saw that now.
"Right, what next?"
"Tongues." Heather said firmly.
"Good idea. Shall we try the bed for this one?"
"Sounds good."
Within minutes, they were in the bedroom and whilst Heather had been keen to kneel at Tanya's feet and lick her to an orgasm, Tanya had made it more mutual and for the first time in her life Heather had pressed her face into the wet pussy of her lover while she lowered her own on to that woman's mouth. That night she was to find how long you could be kept hovering on the edge of an orgasm so that when you came it shook you to the bone.
****
Heather awoke to the smell of bacon, eggs, coffee and toast and knew that for the first time since she was a child someone was cooking her breakfast in bed. However, if it was not for the tired muscles and the lingering sensations she would have been convinced that all that had happened with Tanya before had simply been some dream brought on by what she had witnessed from her window. Tanya came into the room, just dressed in a work blouse of Heather's with a pile of food and plates and cups all balanced on the coffee table from the living room. She stripped the duvet from Heather who complained with a playful yelp and set it all on the floor at the foot of the bed. Laughing, Heather scrambled along the bed and down to the meal.
There were so many thoughts she had about what was going on. Was she now officially a lesbian or just someone who had experimented? Were there certain acts or a particular number of occasions that you had to go through to qualify? Did she now not fancy men? Was Tanya her girlfriend or a one-night stand and how, either way, would they tackle this at work? Should she now rush out and get a tattoo, a nose stud, pillar box red hair dye? She guessed it was all up for discussion. Perhaps there were other sides to Tanya she had not yet seen, but she was certainly not going to turn down a second date, well, in fact she was going to suggest one and her mind now coursed with ideas.
"Not going to eat?" Tanya asked with a smile.
"Sorry." Heather grabbed a bagel topped with a poached egg and realised Tanya must have shopped for these while she slept. "My mind is just catching up with the lesbian body it's just found itself in."
"Sounds interesting."
"Yes. I have so many questions. I guess I can ask you, but then it wouldn't feel right. I don't want to sound picky, but I want to be on the level with you, not a student to you as teacher, well, unless that's a role play we can try." Heather made a mock gasp of shock.
Tanya laughed. "I understand that. I won't be offended. I see it is important to you that this gets off on the right footing."
"Yes, and I think you have read me just right. I realise I want there to be a 'this'. I think you can be my first girlfriend, well girlfriend, perhaps first and the last, but we'll come to that in some occasion."
"Okay, I see where you're coming from."
"What I am asking is, well, I guess it is three options and I imagine you know them. However, what I am asking for, not being impetuous or anything or thinking well, she took my virginity so she must be the one or sounding like I am Hugh Grant in a movie..."
"You want to ask if I want to go out with you? To have dates with you?"
"You know it."
"Yes and the answer is yes: I want to have a go at being your girlfriend. I think, though you might be all mixed up a bit at the moment, you've actually got your feet on the ground and I know there are a lot of things about you that I really would like to be seeing regularly."
"Thank you."
"It's not a favour, it's because it's what's right."
"Yes, yes, girlfriend, Tanya, I get that."
"Well, so eat, after all the effort your girlfriend, your lover, put into this."
Heather tucked in.
****
Heather walked into the lobby of her block, slightly self-conscious as beneath her open biker jacket she was wearing her girlfriend's corset and it made her feel too sexy to cope with properly. The leather shorts and the patent oxblood boots just made that feel more so. She turned back to see Tanya following on dressed in her shirt, her tightest jeans and a nice pair of worker boots she had forgotten she had. They were heading out for a late lunch and a walk somewhere. Heather stopped to check her mailbox, turning her head the row of braids Tanya had plaited for her down one side of her hair buffed against her face and made her smile. Prominent, on top of the usual advertising was a handwritten envelope. It read 'The lesbians'.
"News travels fast." Heather joked tearing off the envelope and tossing it to Tanya who chuckled.
Inside was a neatly written letter. These days it was unusual to see handwriting, but Heather found it seemed less threatening. She read it aloud.
"Dear lesbian couple. While we are broadminded, please bear in mind that in these blocks, when you don't have curtains, your activities can easily be seen from flats in the blocks opposite. Mr. and Mrs. Marshall, residents of the block opposite."
Heather could not stop laughing so much that Tanya told her she was worried she would faint. They walked outside for some fresh air.
"I'm glad that they worded it so politely. We need to get some curtains."
"Well, I guess we did not upset everyone." Tanya said pointing upwards.
As Heather saw the row of cards with the figures '10.0' on them she knew precisely which flat's window she was looking at.