It had been so long since I'd dated, that I'd forgotten all about that exciting new relationship buzz you feel at the start.
Anticipating texts. Calling to say goodnight so that her voice was the last thing you heard before retiring to bed. The dates to places you'd visited many times, but that were made novel and special simply because she was with you. I'd forgotten it all.
The problem with this, however, was the fact that we seemed to be doing all of it as friends. It was as though she'd taken my words literally, that platonic friendship was all I wanted. Because we didn't kiss again over the following weeks. We didn't even hold hands. Plenty of opportunities arose for it – strolls through the park, a boat ride along the river, sitting in a darkened movie theater right at the back, where no one could see us. And every time I thought she was about to lean in and kiss me, she turned away, moved on to something else.
My biggest fear had been realized: we'd become best friends!
Six weeks passed like this, and the closest I came to intimacy with her was the goodbye hugs and pecks on the cheek. And something inexplicable started happening to me after every one of our rendezvouses: I was growing more and more frustrated. Frustrated with myself for not being forward, taking the lead and instigating another kiss. Frustrated with her for being so damn beautiful, and tempting, and inadvertently teasing me.
I didn't recognize myself when I got into one of my moods. This crippling desire to be with another person was new to me. It no longer fazed me that she was a woman, that she was younger, that there were a hundred things that made her unsuitable for me.
It was the last day of the semester, and I'd gone to pick Chester up. When the bell sounded, she escorted her class out of the building as usual, and said her hellos to the parents. It didn't take long for her to join me, her smile always so huge and inviting. A little while ago I'd thought that it grew a little wider just for me, but lately I wasn't so sure. Lately I'd been questioning her true intentions, and if they'd changed now that she'd gotten to know me better.
"Hi there," she said, her eyes twinkling somewhat mischievously. Oh, why did she have to be so irresistible? It only exacerbated my frustration at being stuck in the friend zone. What a miserable place to be.
"Hey," I said a little weakly.
She always smelled like candy, super-sweet and totally bad for my health. And I wanted every inch of her!
"So have you decided whether or not you're going away for the holidays?" she said.
I shook my head. "Maybe for a few days in the second week. I have a couple of friends who live in Toronto. I was thinking of taking Chester there. They have a little boy his age."
"Sounds like fun. I've never been to Toronto. Canadians hate me, for some reason." She chuckled.
"I can't imagine why anyone would hate you," I said. "When do you leave for Bolivia?"
"Mid-week. I wish you were coming."
She'd proposed it a couple of weeks ago, during one of our many non-romantic dates. It was as if she'd forgotten that I had commitments, had a kid to look after. I would have followed her to the moon if I wasn't tied down. And even though I loved my son more than anything, the ceaseless burden of being a mother did sometimes way down on me.
"We could take Chester with us, you know. He would love it out there. It would also give him a chance to learn some Spanish."
The three of us, a happy family, out there in rural Bolivia. I would stay at home while she went to teach English to the school kids. The image put a smile on my face, but reality wiped it away promptly thereafter.
"I couldn't, you know that."
"Yeah, I do." She looked genuinely disappointed. "It's going to be hard not seeing you for almost two weeks."
I laughed. "You'll forget about me the minute your plane lands. Maybe even sooner." But I would be thinking about her every second of every day, eagerly awaiting her return, praying that she didn't enjoy it too much out there and never come back.
"That's not true." Her eyes were sincere when she said it. If she would have kissed me right there, right then, in front of everyone, I wouldn't have minded. Why hadn't she tried again? Could everyone see the way we were looking at each other? I often wondered if anyone could see what lay between us simply by observing the way we stared at each other.
"So listen, you remember I told you about the book club I joined, and you said you wanted to come along? Monday is my turn to host."
Book clubs had never been my thing, not least of all because I'd never met anyone interesting who belonged to one. Until Ava. She was odd in her hobbies. Like, for instance, her adoration for manga. She'd even attended a couple of Comic Cons. "I'm a nerd at heart," she'd once said. A beautiful nerd. I imagine I wasn't the only one who found her a bit of an enigma.
"Monday? At your place?" I asked. It would mark my first visit inside her house.
"Yes. 7PM. Do you still want to come?"
"Sure, why not?" I wasn't coming for the others, and not even for the books. I was coming for her. And if I wouldn't see her for ten days, I had to get as much time in with her as I could before she left.
I regretted the blouse as soon as I stepped into the car, but it was too late to turn back and change. The tag itched like hell, and I was afraid to tear it off in case the shirt ripped.
A bottle of Burgundy lay on the passenger seat. I wanted to get there early so we had some time alone. But when she opened the door, and the lively chatter spilled out, I knew my plan had been foiled.
"Hey, come on in. Almost everyone's here." She kissed me on the cheek, took the bottle from me, and ushered me in, missing my disappointment completely.
She introduced me around the room of eight strangers. They sat in her living room, clutching coffee or wine in one hand, the book of the week in the other. With the exception of two young men, whose age I put at early twenties, the people in the room had an overwhelming similarity: over forties, glasses, and presumably an account at the same outdated clothing store in town. They were exactly as I'd pictured them. And within five minutes of sitting down, dispensing with niceties and smalltalk, it became clear to me why the two young men had come here. In that we shared a common goal: Ava.
"Did you get a chance to read the book, Danielle?" she asked.
"Half of it. I couldn't finish the rest." It was a thriller about a man who hitchhiked across Europe, and the discrimination he faced because of his race.
And so the evening kicked off. I stayed quiet through most of it, trying to keep myself awake, or trying to ignore the blatant flirting the two boys were doing with Ava. Outrageous to the point of being nauseating.
When the older folks were talking, I busied myself looking discreetly around the living room, marveling at Ava's quirky style. The drapes, the rug, the paintings all seemed to be African in design – at a guess, West African. Little wooden safari animals took pride of place along the mantelpiece. She sure had a thing for Africa.
But it was hard to focus on the furnishings when two horny men were firing off just about every lame line in the flirting manual, and doing so in the sleaziest, most unsubtle manner.
"Ava, no one would drive past you if you were hitchhiking."
And, "Did you say you're a teacher? Those kids are so lucky to have you as a teacher. I would never miss a day of school."
And worse still, "I liked the book. It was a love story. A lot of men my age don't like to show their sensitive side, but this really touched me. You know what I mean, Ava?"
I almost threw up in my mouth at that last line! Couldn't they hear themselves?
The night, thankfully, came to an end just before nine. The older folks said their goodbyes and promptly left.
"It's still so early, Ava. What are you doing now? Did you want to come out with us?" one of the boys said. Besides me they were the last to leave. They were lingering, and it was so blatant.
"Jesus," I mumbled to myself. It came out louder than intended, and Ava looked at me, somewhat amused.
"Thanks, guys, but I'm a little tired. Got a lot to do tomorrow, you know. Maybe some other time."
Why couldn't she just tell them she wasn't interested, that she was gay? Why did she always have to be so damn polite?
I collected my things up just as they did, and we all made our way to the door. So much for our alone time.
"Danielle, you said you'd take a look at my computer for me, remember?" she said quickly, once we were all in the hallway.
"Did I?" I frowned. I couldn't remember saying anything of the sort, and didn't think I ever would, because computers hated me.
"Yes, remember? That thing wouldn't start and you said you could fix it?"
"We can take a look at it for you," one of the boys jumped in, any excuse to stick around. I doubt they knew any more about computers than I did.
"That's okay, Danielle said she would do it. See you guys in a few weeks." She opened the door and all but shoved them out, smiling the whole time.
The penny, as they say, finally fell.
She turned to me, smiling, shaking her head. "Well, you didn't make that easy for me."
I laughed, feeling foolish. "God, I'm so sorry. Stupid. I heard computers and it completely threw me. I thought you'd gone senile."
She chuckled as we returned to the living room. "I had to think of something. They do this every week."
"How do you put up with it?"
She shrugged. "Guys have been doing that from the moment I hit puberty and grew breasts! I've learned to ignore it mostly."
She had the patience of a saint. Even I wanted to punch them. But that might have had something to do with my wholly unreasonable jealousy, the type that had been rearing its ugly head since Ava walked into my life. It wasn't an emotion I had a right to when it came to her, particularly as I could no longer muster any when it came to my own husband.
"So just to be clear, you don't have a computer you need me to take a look at?"
"No computer. Just a bottle of Burgundy we our name on it."
She went to fetch the bottle and some clean glasses while I made myself comfortable on her couch. No more annoying hangers-on, no more books, just the two of us. Alone. We'd been alone several times, but not like this. Always in public. Never unrestricted.
We chatted for an hour while we enjoyed the bottle I'd brought. It never took much to get me tipsy; and together with the natural high I was already on just being alone with her, I had reached saturation point halfway through my second glass.
We were sitting beside each other, and had been the whole time, but only now, with the alcohol running through my veins, and my senses amplified, did it really start to affect me.
"This goddamn tag has been bothering me all night. It's a new top."
"I hate when that happens. I have a pair of scissors in a drawer somewhere if you want to cut it out?"
She got up to fetch them, disappeared from the room. Screw the blouse! I thought, unbuttoning it. If I accidentally cut it, too bad. I didn't care anymore. My back was sore.
When she walked back into the room, scissors in hand, I was already shirtless. Normally I wouldn't have even considered removing my shirt like that in someone's living room. I guess I was more tipsy than I'd first thought. Not to the point that I didn't know what I was doing, simply enough to allay my inhibitions. My insecurities about my body had also been alleviated.
She handed me the scissors, almost expressionless. She didn't sit back down beside me, just stood on the other side of the room by the window, watching me cut the tag out of my shirt.
"It's pretty hot in here. Maybe I'll keep my blouse off," I said. It was a joke, and in a way my attempt at flirting. I wanted to see how she would respond, because her need to be so far away from me seemed odd.
"If you like. It's up to you." Now she was doing her best not to look at me. Something was definitely up. Did she want me to leave?
"This is my first trip to your place and I end up topless. If this is how all book clubs end, I'm sad I missed them all those years," I continued.
She didn't laugh, only offered me a little smile that faded almost as soon as it came. It was as though she was now bored with me and couldn't bear to hear my voice, or even look at me. Wow, was I really that grotesque?
"Is everything all right?" I asked, putting my blouse back on. The sight of me was obviously making her uncomfortable.
"Of course. Why do you ask?"
"Because you've gone really quiet."
"I'm just thinking, that's all."
"About what?"
She shrugged. "Stuff."
"What sort of stuff?"
"I don't know, Dani. Just stuff." She seemed agitated now. And that set me off.
"You're not being very hospitable right now, I hope you know that," I said, furiously doing up my buttons.
"What?" She looked at me, perplexed.
"You heard me. If you want me to go, you should just say so, all right."
"Why would you think I want you to leave?"
"Because of your body language. Maybe you would prefer those two boys as company instead of me." I didn't know what had come over me, or where those words had originated from. I was now too annoyed to care that I may have crossed a line.
And I was on a roll. "Why did you bother going through that whole charade of getting me to stay if you were going to ignore me?" I wasn't letting her get a word in edgeways.
I leaped up from my seat. "I think it's best I go now. I don't want to make you any more uncomfortable than I already have."
She called my name but I ignored her on my way to the door. But fury still flowed through my veins and bones, and before I knew it I'd turned back into the living room.
"No, I have a few things I need to get off my chest first. And then I'll leave." I slammed my purse down on the couch. She stared at me as though I was a madwoman and she didn't know how I'd gotten into her house.
"It's not fair what you're doing, you know. Spending all this time with me, strutting around all perfect and beautiful, and sexy. So damn sexy!"
She cleared her throat, and I thought I saw the makings of a smile teasing her lips.
"And every moment that we're together I'm battling the urge to kiss you, or touch you, and it's the hardest thing I've ever had to do, keeping my hands off you when you're sitting right there."
I took a breath, and she carried on watching, silently. Yep, it was definitely a little smile, more visible now.
I continued, "And I have to come to terms with the fact that now that you've gotten to know me, you're no longer attracted to me... And what the hell is so funny?" I demanded, upon hearing her laugh.
"I'm sorry. Are you done?"
I couldn't believe I'd just poured my heart out and her response was to laugh at me.
"You're something, you know that, Dani? I think we'll have to keep you away from the wine in future. It makes you delusional."
"I'm not delusional," I said defiantly.
"Oh, but you are. You think that I'm not attracted to you. I'd say that's as delusional as it gets. I've done everything I could these past few weeks to spend as much time as possible with you. I call you half an hour after I've just seen you. Heck, I wanted you to come with me to Bolivia, and you still think I'm not interested in you."
She walked toward me slowly. "See, completely and utterly delusional." She brushed some strands of hair out of my face, her eyes soft, her smile tender.
I swallowed. "But what about before? You couldn't even look at me. I was sitting on your couch half-naked."
"Oh sweetie, that wasn't because I didn't want to look at you, it's because I did want to. Believe me, I know quite a bit about having difficulty keeping my hands to myself when I'm around you. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."
Uncomfortable? Wasn't she aware that every moment spent in her company, as her "friend", was the real agony? I'd never experienced anything like it. It was as though my body had been pining for her, crying out for her. To convey that to her would have been impossible without sounding like some sort of pervert.
I shivered slightly from her touch. I stared into those sapphire-like eyes, losing myself in them. She looked uncertain. Whatever she saw in me made her hesitant.
"I want you to know something," I said, taking the hand that she'd used to brush my hair away. "I didn't come here for the books." I pressed my lips to the back of her hand. Without the alcohol in my system I probably wouldn't have made a move like that. It had always seemed so cheesy when others did it. But she smiled.
"I didn't set out to fall for a married woman. I don't want to break up a happy home."
"I haven't been happy in years. Truly happy, maybe never." Who knew whether or not that was true? But in that moment, the only happiness I could remember was being with her. I couldn't think of one good thing, beside Chester, that had ever come out of my marriage (and even he had been conceived before we married).
We were still holding hands, but she gripped tighter, and the next thing I knew I was being led out of the living room. I followed silently, my heartbeat speeding up.
We climbed the stairs, neither of us speaking. Words were unnecessary now; this short journey upstairs said everything.
Her bedroom was decorated the way I'd imagined it: light, airy colors, all the furniture, including the bed, foreign. African was my guess. I made a note to ask her about the African thing when this was over.
It was a huge, sturdy-looking bed made of finely carved mahogany. Upon seeing it, I started to panic.
Holy shit, this was really happening! In a moment she would expect me to perform, to do things I'd never even considered before I'd met her.
All the confidence I'd started out with had deserted me now, and I stood in the middle of the room feeling like a lamb to the slaughter. There were two conflicting positions battling inside me. The first – fear of the new experience. And the second – exhilaration at finally doing something my body had been craving for months.
When she leaned forward and kissed me, however, I immediately felt more at ease. It was a simple kiss that reassured me.
I gave as good as I got, letting my tongue loose in her mouth. Before long the kisses ceased being polite, and we attacked each other with so much force, so much beastly passion, that we fell onto the bed.
Perfect timing, because soon kisses simply weren't enough. I had no idea what I was doing, what was expected of me, but none of that mattered. Whatever my role was, I wanted to get into it pronto.
As such, I was the first to reach for her clothes, pulling at them while she was on top of me and we were still lip-locked. I kept thinking that any minute now she would stop me, because something this wonderful, with someone so amazing, couldn't possibly happen to me. But she didn't.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" she asked, once she came up for air, having detached her lips from mine.
I nodded and pulled her into another kiss, using it as an opportunity to unbutton her top.
She laughed as we kissed, but it faded shortly after when passion took over. And when we separated again, I was able to relieve her of her top altogether.
I ran my hands along her smooth body. Across her midriff, over her breasts, which were tucked away in a fancy, pale green bra. I touched her while she watched me, my first time doing something like this – admiring and desiring another woman's body.
Beth's words came to mind then, as I caressed Ava's bosom. And a smile came to my lips.
Beth, I can confirm, and with pleasure, that they are one hundred percent the real deal. And I'm going to enjoy every mouthful!
She did the honors, reaching back and undoing her bra slowly. It was like waiting for my lottery numbers to be called!
I took in a deep breath, now faced with the two mounds. They were so perfect I was almost afraid to touch them. Almost, but not quite. My mouth watered.
I ran my hands over them again, and goosebumps spread across my skin when I felt her nipples harden against my palms.
I sat up, pulling her close and into a kiss, her nipples pressing against my chest. But as nice as that felt, there was only one place I wanted them.
I ripped my mouth away from hers, and trailed kisses along her jaw, then along her neck, taking my time, sucking and licking every part of her flesh, not wanting to leave any untouched.
She breathed gently, letting out the tiniest moans each time my lips pressed against her.
And then I arrived at her mounds, kissing around one before taking it into my mouth and suckling on her teat. Now her moans were far more audible. I sucked hungrily before moving onto the next breast. I was an unstoppable machine, switching back and forth, hungrier and hungrier for the sensation against my tongue. Hungrier still for her breathless moans. These alone could have made me climax, I thought.
I wanted to go on forever, and couldn't believe how naturally something like this had come to me. It felt as though I'd been doing this sort of thing for decades, as though women were the only lovers I'd ever known.
But I felt her pulling away. At first I thought that through my enthusiasm I'd hurt her. But she kissed me, and started undoing my blouse. She wanted us to move on. It was my turn now.
Once my blouse and bra were off, she pounced on my loose breasts, skipping the build up. She abused my mounds with her mouth – her lips and tongue worked together to send me into a delirious state. My breasts had never been handled this way before, and I couldn't get enough of it.
"Oh, that's beautiful," I whined, my eyes shut tight.
"You're beautiful," she whispered while she suckled.
When she was done, she kissed her way back up and found my lips again, her blonde tresses falling over my face and curtaining us.
"Are you still with me?" she asked, stroking my face.
"Of course." Despite the lingering fear of the unknown, and of my inexperience, there was no place I would have rather been. Nothing else I wanted to do. And no one else I wanted to be with but her.
"Good," she whispered, kissed me again before descending. It was her way of preparing me for what would come next, I realized that later. Because foreplay was one thing, but she had more in store for me.
I trembled when she started working my jeans off, and trembled even more when she slipped her fingers into my panties.
"It's all right, sweetie," she said softly, our lips reuniting again. The kiss was a way to distract me while she penetrated me. I loved the feel of her nipples rubbing on my chest, of her stomach on mine, while her finger swam through my soaking canal.
She sank a couple of fingers inside me, and watched me unblinkingly as they made their passage. She wanted to see the effects of her move. My eyelids fluttered, the feel of her inside and out, at the same time, incredible.
I moaned against her lips as she brushed them across mine.
"Do you like how I feel inside you?" she breathed, sex in her voice.
"Yes," I croaked, nodding. I kept nodding as she glided in and out of me. "Yes."
"And what about if I touch you here, would you like that too?" She already had, on my nub, which the penetration had made sensitive to the touch.
She was barely kissing me, teasing me with the promise of a kiss. Likewise down below, her fingers stroking only lightly, but just enough to get me writhing.
I couldn't answer with words, just a moan of consent. I felt so powerless beneath her, even though we'd started out as equals.
Then she kissed me, and at the same time commenced her strumming on my swollen bean.
I wanted to focus on kissing her, but I was too busy moaning and wailing.
"Oh, Ava, Ava." Over and over. Her name was perfect for calling out during sex. It just rolled off the tongue. I also loved screaming it. It made me proud to do so, proud to be the one privileged enough to be with her. If the dads at the school could have seen me... If Dominic could have seen me.
"I've wanted to do this to you since I walked into the classroom that first evening," she said. "I thought about this more times than I would like to admit."
"Don't stop," I said in response. She'd been going for several glorious minutes. Her fingers must have been tired, given the force and speed at which she moved. But I couldn't bear the thought of her depriving me of this wonderful sensation. Selfish, I know, but it had been a long time since I'd had sex, and even longer since I'd enjoyed it, and I didn't want this to end.
She carried on for several more minutes, per my request. Eventually she did stop. I hadn't reached my peak, and she'd built me up so much that I had real fear she was too tired to finish.
I realized I was mistaken when she started taking her pants off. Within a few seconds she was buck naked, and her attention went right back to me, back to my remaining piece of clothing: my panties, which she dragged off frantically.
She spread my legs open and bore down on my sex with her mouth.
What followed I knew, no matter what became of us, I would remember forever. Remember the way it felt the moment her tongue first connected with my bean, after swimming through every corner of my sex. Remember the way I moaned and whimpered incessantly.
I thrashed about like a fish out of water, almost broke free from her hold of my thighs.
She never stopped sucking, licking, and stroking my nub with her tongue, slurping me up like I was a sweet beverage. Nor my cries of ecstasy nor my violent writhing stopped her. Only when I expired, trembling as the spasms tore through me, did she let up.
I hadn't survived very long, I knew that much. She'd worked me up too much beforehand, and her tongue had been relentless in its assault on my bean. I didn't stand a chance. I came screaming her name... The best way to climax.
I felt like I'd been exorcised, rid of a demon, at the end of it. I lay there on her bed, spent, hardly any energy left to even keep my eyes open to look at her when she came up to meet me.
"Hey," she said. Her lips were moist with my sap. She licked it off while I watched her, and I let out a tired laugh. "Yummy."
"I hope I wasn't too much of an amateur for you," I said as she stroked my face lovingly.
"You were great. I knew you would be."