It was one of those relationships that was doomed from the start, but Paul and I had remained firm friends. To put it bluntly, in the bedroom department, it just didn’t happen. We got on so well that we saw each other regularly for meals, or a take-away, and we chatted about current relationships, or problems at work. Quite often I would sleep over at his house after a couple of bottles of Merlot, and just drive home the next morning. We were mates, and on the odd occasions when he did get a bit frisky and try it on with the help of beer goggles, we reminded ourselves that we didn’t really physically fancy each other, so what was the point? Nevertheless, he was tactile, and we still enjoyed a snuggle up on the couch, enjoying each other’s company. It was a strange relationship, and neither of us had formed any lasting friendship with a member of the opposite sex since our own relationship had failed.
I had a busy work life, which left little time for a steady boyfriend, and it had been two years since there had been any “I think I’m in love” moments. Quite content with my life, I wasn’t really looking; I had many good friends and an excellent social life, so I didn’t feel desperate enough to settle for something that wasn’t all that. There had definitely been that little something missing in all my relationships, and I could never put my finger on what it was.
On a cold Tuesday morning in March, my mobile phone bleeped, indicating that I had a text message. It was from Paul, inviting me over that night, and he said he had someone he wanted me to meet. Assuming it was another new girlfriend, I accepted the invitation and, since it was a more formal invitation than usual, requested a time for arrival. His second text said simply “8, B a B” which in our text-speak meant eight o’clock, and bring a bottle.
The taxi was late as usual, but I always booked early, so by the time I arrived at Paul’s five-bedroomed townhouse, it was bang on eight. After greeting his nosey neighbor outside, I kicked off my shoes at the door and announced my arrival with a loud “yoo-hoo”. Instantly, I detected the aroma of “Irresistible” perfume. She has better taste than the last one, I sniggered to myself as I made my way upstairs. The house had a strange layout; the kitchen was on the ground floor, the lounge on the first floor, and the bedrooms scattered all over. I didn’t like it, but it was trendy and affordable, and overlooked a nice park. Paul kept it spotlessly clean, a trait I thought unusual for most blokes, but he was fussy about a lot of little things. Paul was thirty-six, tall, slim, smart, witty and fun to be around. He had introduced me to a string of prospective girlfriends of his lately, but I had never been overly impressed. Maybe it was because I cared about this man like a sister would for a brother, we chatted like best friends, and his slightly feminine attitude to life never failed to amuse me.
Sat in the lounge chair was my mate, and opposite him on the couch was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. I remember thinking, how the hell has that ugly twat pulled her? We were formally introduced: “Abbie, this is Emily.” I wasn’t sure if I should shake Emily’s hand, so I just smiled and we exchanged an acknowledging nod to each other. She was smart, and wore a fairly short skirt, which showed off her tanned legs. Not too skinny; I estimated a size fourteen, with an expensive taste in clothes, and nice bobbed hairstyle, which had obviously been well cut.
She looked sexy without looking like a tart, I thought, but she was definitely not Paul’s type. Her cerise pink satin blouse was just a little tight, but it showed off her curves nicely. As the wine flowed, so did the conversation. It emerged that Paul had met Emily at the headquarters of the IT company he worked for. They had both been involved in developing some software for a Japanese car manufacturer. Boring, I thought, just get to the juicy stuff, how long have you been seeing each other, what’s going on and why am I sitting here like a gooseberry?
After a couple of bottles of red and one pink champagne, we all sat on the floor for a game of “I Have Never . . .”. A bottle of vodka was positioned in the tray on the big fluffy mat, and three shot glasses sat before it. Paul began the game by saying “I have never been shagged over the bonnet of a Ford Fiesta by Alan Fremlin in Morrison’s’ car park”. I objected that the statement was far too precise, but my protest fell on deaf ears, and I was forced to take a shot of vodka. I hated vodka. Needless to say I got him back. It was Emily’s turn and she suggested that she had never had a threesome. Both Paul and I grabbed our glasses and burst into fits of laughter; of course we hadn’t. As the vodka bottle drained, the suggestions got more explicit, and my last statement was “I have never had sex with a woman”, knowing that Paul would have to take a shot, but never thinking that Emily would. My eyes must have bulged out of my head as Paul looked at me, smiled, and raised one eyebrow. She downed her drink, and Paul declared her the champion; then, realizing he had burnt the supper, jumped up and ran downstairs to rescue the pizza.
Emily and I sat back on the couch, complaining about our numb bums, and she turned to me and smiled. What a nice girl she was – attractive, intelligent, funny, just right for Paul. Like a mother hen, I quizzed her about her intentions toward my friend, and she stopped me in my tracks, insisting he was definitely not her type. I felt naive, but the penny suddenly dropped – she batted for the other team. Not all lesbians were butch, I knew this, but she was gorgeous. The saying “don’t knock it till you’ve tried it” came up in conversation, as Paul announced from the bottom of the stairs that he was nipping out to the shop for more supplies. I had been set up, that git had set me up with a fucking lesbian, for god’s sake. No wonder he had nipped out for more bloody wine.
Emily’s arm had been draped over the back of the couch, and as she began to tell me how beautiful and intelligent she thought I was, she touched my hair. It was strange but nice, and I felt a stirring between my legs. I had never experienced anything like this before but I felt sexy, and she was arousing me in a way that no man could ever do. Her gentle words and soft hands made me feel at ease; she was an extremely attractive girl. I could feel the wide smile starting to spread across my face as she touched my knee with her other hand. She drew my head towards hers and kissed me gently on the forehead.