My first lesbian love affair -- what next?
There's a very old saying in the advertising industry, "Never fuck a client."
Well I did, but then I married him.
It was my first job after leaving university and was with a US, global ad agency's London office as a junior copywriter. I had been put onto an account the agency had recently won which, was quite small and just about the right size for a young, female, fresh from university to show what she could do. I showed more than that, though, for by the effort I put into the account, I also earned the respect from the client who owned the packaging business for which I was writing the copy.
Kevin, the client, was some nine years older than me. From the first time I met him at the presentation I was enamoured by him. He was handsome, witty, confident, worldly-wise and outgoing yet considerate and caring, very understanding and keen to please. He had that aura about him that many self-made, successful businessmen have. A sort of assuredness that's almost arrogance but not quite. He was seemingly comfortable no matter who he was with. He always had the right word or phrase and was totally comfortable when in the spotlight.
We hit it off right away. We developed an easy way of relating to each other, which was necessary as we worked together very closely in the early days of the account. So closely, in fact, that as we developed the ad campaign I spoke to him on the phone several times a day and we had meetings probably every other day. Although it was first experience at managing an account, I began to realise two things. Firstly, our closeness was unusual and secondly, that I was enjoying that for what it really was, flirting. That became more apparent when the meeting started taking place in the late afternoon or early evening either, at his offices in Mayfair or at the agency in Covent Garden. And so close that we gradually ended the meetings with a drink or a quick bite to eat.
The result, though, was worth the effort for between us we produced some great copy that really worked well for the account when the campaign eventually broke some months later.
It also worked well on other levels. Just as our working relationship had gradually developed so had the way we related to each other. We became more relaxed and we started to flirt using jokes and double entendres. The usual client and copywriter handshake when we met or parted became a kiss on the cheek. And that led to one kiss not being on the cheek, but on the lips, which led to his arm not resting against my side but going around me. Inevitably, I suppose, but then I wasn't very experienced in business, that led to us not having a space between our bodies but to mine being pulled tightly against his. And one evening that led to us not going our separate ways after the meeting, but to me going back to his flat. And, of course, that led to me breaking that cardinal rule of advertising, for I did fuck the client. And I fucked him and he fucked me after that first time on a frequent basis. Like nearly every day or for a couple of months!
I fell totally and utterly head over heels in love with him. No ifs or buts, no reservations or concerns, I was his and I was gone and gone completely. He was all that I wanted and everything I'd ever dreamed about. And that led to me moving in with him to the consternation at first of my parents. But then, as Kevin always could, he charmed them and soon they were taking his side in any arguments between us as opposed to mine.
We got married and I had Peter and then Sarah. I thought things would go on being wonderful for ever and for a few years they did. Not only did I never look at anyone else, male or female, but I never even entertained any thoughts in those directions. I was physically and emotionally totally faithful to him and I thought he was to me. And I thought that's how it'll always be.
But how wrong was that!
I caught him being unfaithful and I thought my world would end. It didn't of course and he talked me into forgiving him. A couple of years later I suspected him again and then a little later I found out that he was for sure. Although we stayed together for the children's sake the magic had gone. We did, though, try to save it. We did things that we felt or, more accurately, Kevin persuaded me might, perk things up with the failing relationship and bring some of the magic back. Things like him taking glamour photos of me, having sex in places where we might get caught and trying out some sexual diversions such a tying up and mild S & M.
He also, after lengthy cajoling and persuasion, got me to make love to another woman while he watched and doing that in front of him was the symbolic end of our marriage. The actual end, though didn't come for another year or so. During that time I was sure that he was 'at it' again, but I didn't have the evidence. The moment I got it though, my courage was raised and we separated.
I had been quite heavily involved with other women at uni., but that all went on hold when Kevin and I became a number and it remained like that until he pressurised me so heavily about having sex with another woman that my interest in sapphic sex was rekindled. Not just rekindled but also revitalised and I had flings of various lengths with three women before he set me up with Chrissy a business colleague of his.
Living alone with Sarah, Peter was in the US doing an MBA at Stanford in San Francisco in a lovely apartment in Docklands waiting for my divorce to come through I had to adjust to being alone. It was hard, very, very hard. But I did it. I lasted the year it took for the divorce to come though without once having sex with a man. I just couldn't bear the idea of developing any sort of new relationship. Of having to play that silly role of getting to know someone well enough to know whether I wanted to have sex with them. It also seemed rather silly and unfair on both of us, so I stayed away from it.
However, my logic was rather tortuous on one aspect of my life, sex. I'd sort of assumed that once I was a free and single woman everything would be fine sexwise. I'd expected that once divorced I'd be able to 'fuck 'em and leave 'em' as the modern woman seems to be able to do. But somehow I couldn't. Somehow the idea of sex purely for pleasure or relief didn't work for me. After what Kevin had done to me, I didn't want any deep emotional involvement with men and I discovered that the sex I had with a couple without it wasn't that successful. That wasn't the case, though, with women as in most ways since Kevin and I parted, well actually for a year or so before that, my sex life was more successful with women than it has with men.
Having been a county standard tennis player in my teens and almost making it to Wimbledon a couple of times, I had quite a lot of experience with being with lesbians so I had slipped easily into a group of them at university. It seemed natural, therefore, that after splitting from Kevin when I was already dabbling with other women, that I would get back into tennis, albeit at a lower standard than before, so I rejoined a club of which I'd been a member up until I went to uni. I think it was that decision and what ensued that convinced me that I was a full-on lesbian and not the bisexual woman I had always assumed that I was. Well that, and meeting, or more accurately 'remeeting,' Belinda was the icing on the cake or, maybe that should be, the cherry on top of it!
With this I can claim little outside influences and certainly naivety played no part in anything. It was totally down to her and me. The her in question this time was, of all people, a female tennis coach. We'd known each other for years and we'd seen each other marry, have children and separate from our husbands. When I was active on the county tennis scene I got to know most of the leading UK tennis girls and the rumours of fairly rampant lesbianism are, I found out, true. Whilst Belinda was not in the rampant category she had in recent years after her divorce openly admit to being lesbian and had a rather risqué reputation at the club and in the location where we both lived.
