So, fair warning, I know we're covering a well-worn trope here: Lesbian has crush on straight girl. Straight girl might not be so straight. Yep, you've read it all before. I certainly had and I'd, of course, been attracted to plenty of straight girls. It's the all-too-common, egotistical fantasy that a girl might be so attracted to me that she'd question her sexuality. I'd had years of experience telling me it never works out, and yet it happened again - I was lusting after a straight girl.
She wasn't really my type, either. I mean, she was attractive, but she wore these bright, colourful, clashing prints and her curled, brunette hair had a free and wild quality. I usually find myself lusting after the cool, understated types, but her energy and smile...she was always smiling and not in a fake, superficial way. She just glowed. She had a way of making you feel good in her presence and everybody warmed to her immediately. I'd usually find a woman like that to be great company and good friend material. But she wasn't just my friend. She was my boss.
('Another cliche', you say? Yeah, yeah, I know.)
Now, when I say 'boss', she wasn't my direct manager. It's complicated and not worth explaining fully, but she was my senior and could influence my career progression. She didn't oversee my day-to-day functions though, so that may have led to the blurring of professional lines. It was my first job after a career change. I was trying to find my feet and she'd offered to mentor me. I'd guessed she was around my age, somewhere in her early-to-mid-thirties. She was young to be in her position but didn't fit any of the stereotypes of someone with that sort of career trajectory. There was no ego, no sense she was willing to succeed at all costs. She genuinely wanted the best for those around her and didn't need to be in competition with anyone. She was so naturally likable, genuine and kind. I dismissed early feelings as a professional crush - I wanted to be like her and to have her approval.
Our mentoring sessions had slowly become more personal and I started to get the sense there was some, likely platonic, mutual affection. She talked about her ex-boyfriend and mentioned a few failed Tinder outings. It was just girl-talk, but I soon realised I felt a tinge of disappointment when she'd mention guys. (That good old narcissistic belief that if she were into girls, she might just be into me). I soon realised that a level of attraction had snuck up on me.
We gravitated towards each other at work, spending downtime together when we could. We made each other laugh and started to feel like new friends. I took the leap of adding her on social media, a gesture I wasn't sure was appropriate so I was excited when she accepted. And I, of course, stalked the hell out of all her photos (the ones of her in a tight-fitting dress with a plunging neckline, showing off her slightly fuller, curvaceous figure particularly piqued my interest.)
I started finding more excuses to be around her, signing up for working groups and committees she was on. I sat through some excruciatingly boring meetings hoping for a few extra minutes to banter with her around our professional dealings. I worried that I was getting obvious, but if I was, she didn't show it.
But one day things shifted.
I'd just finished dinner and was settling into a comfy Friday night on the couch when my phone 'dinged'. It was a Facebook notification, alerting me that she'd 'Liked' a post on my page. I clicked on it and a photo deep in an old album popped up. But as soon as the little blue thumb lit up, it vanished again. 'Oh, I caught you', I thought, smiling to myself. She'd clicked it accidentally while stalking and was trying to cover her tracks. It wasn't uncommon for us to chat via text, so I messaged her.
"Too late 😉." was all I wrote.
Her response was nothing but a red-faced emoji.
"Checking up on me, hey?" I asked cheekily.
"I'm sorry. Curiosity got the better of me."
"That's OK, I'm just teasing. I may have had a scroll through yours too 😊. But, ah...what got you so curious?" It felt forward to ask, but I figured she was the red faced one here.
"Haha! Well, I'm a few wines into the night. I should probably plead the fifth," she deflected.
"No way. You're not getting out of this 😊." I was perhaps too hopeful that my teasing might prompt some flirting.
"Aw, c'mon. I just needed to live vicariously through you. That's what social media's for, right?"
"Yeah. I'm not buying that. Why would you need to 'plead the fifth' then? 😉"
She took a few minutes to reply.
"Well, honestly...I was curious about your dating life. We've talked about mine, but you never discuss yours. I was just curious about...the types of people you've dated."
"And what did you find?" I knew what she was getting at but wasn't letting her off the hook.
"Well, nothing definitive from the photos, TBH. I just got the sense that your romantic partners have been... different from mine."
"Lol, just say it! You've picked up on the gay vibes?" I figured I'd tortured her enough.
"Lol, sorry. It's none of my business!"
"No, it's completely fine. I'm not in the closet or anything. So yes, I like the ladies 😊."
"Haha, well now I know 😊 I guess I'm wondering why you'd never mentioned it..."
I realised I hadn't intentionally avoided the topic but maybe subconsciously kept it quiet so that my flirtations could be dismissed as 'friendly banter'. I considered my answer carefully.
"It wasn't intentional. Though I guess on some level I was conscious not to make you uncomfortable."
"You definitely don't make me uncomfortable..." I let her words hang in the air a little before responding. Was she just being polite and reassuring, or implying I have some other effect on her?
"How do I make you feel then?" I stared at the words I'd typed on my screen. Sending it felt risky, but then, she was the one looking through my photos and asking questions. I figured I was leaving it open for her to clarify friendship or admit attraction. I decided it was worth it.
It felt like forever before she responded, but when she finally did, I couldn't believe it.
"...You make me feel more than I should admit."
I couldn't let the moment pass. Without thinking, I wrote back as quickly as I could, "Is there a chance I can come and see you? It might be better to talk in person rather than over text."
She took a moment to respond.
"Oh god. This wine is really getting me into trouble. OK. Better to see each other now than wait 'til we're at work. Come over. I'm at 2 Lowmans Rd. I'll have a wine waiting for you."
I looked down at my PJs and slippers. I wasn't quite expecting her to say yes. I'd have to change but didn't want to look like I'd dressed up. I got ready, threw on jeans and a t-shirt, but a tight-fitting V-neck that made me feel at least a little cute. I checked myself in the mirror and headed for the door. The address she gave was only a 15-minute drive, but I could feel my heart pounding in time with every second of it.
I parked out the front of her modest but charming house. The streetlamps revealed an array of flowers and luscious greenery lining the entrance -- it suited her perfectly. I barely knocked on the door before she opened it. She smiled coyly and greeted me with jovial familiarity.
"Hey, you! Come on in." She handed over a glass of wine, which I was extremely grateful for.
She was wearing gym tights and a loose-fitting top that revealed her cleavage and delicately clung to her curves. She had pulled off the casual-yet-sexy look perfectly. I took a mouthful of wine, gulping as much as I could without being obvious. In no time, her very enthusiastic, though seemingly elderly, little dog came over to greet me, wagging her tail uncontrollably. I giggled at the ball of scruff and gave her a pat.
"This is Lily, she's a lover."
"I can tell!" I beamed. "What breed is she? She's gorgeous!"
"Not sure exactly, a 'bitsa' really. She was a rescue."
We chatted innocently about Lily, both relieved to have her to break the ice. She eventually followed us to the lounge room and returned to her dog bed -- the meet and greet had taken it out of her. We were left to take our respective seats on the sofa, one at each end, both attempting to sit in a way that conveyed a sense of calm I'm sure neither of us felt. We looked at each other and smiled. I decided I'd open the conversation....and I really went for it.
"So, you're kinda into me, huh?" I said with a smirk.
"Bloody hell!" she said bursting into laughter, "You're diving right in, then?"
"I'm more of a rip-the-band-aid-off-type. Come on then, let's talk about it" I was doing my best to be light and charming, but inside I was just steeling myself for the 'I'm curious but straight and I don't want to complicate things even though I think about you when I've been drinking' response.
"I just....I can't help but be very aware of our professional relationship. I don't want to put you in a position of being uncomfortable at work. I feel awful that I said anything at all. It just felt like I was getting obvious, especially with the Facebook stalking, and I don't want you to feel like I'm gaslighting you. So yes. I'm attracted to you. But I say that with no expectation of any particular response."
"God, don't feel bad. I'm attracted to you, too. And yes, I know it's complicated because of work and, frankly, because you're usually attracted to men. That must be confusing for you."
"Yeah, look, it's not simple. But you're not the first woman I've been attracted to. I've just never acted on it. And honestly, it's not just attraction. I really do like you."
"So, what now?" I asked, genuinely unsure where we stood.
She reached her hand out along the back of the couch where mine was resting, gently tangling her fingers through mine. My whole body lit up. She looked at me briefly, not able to hold eye contact for long and fixing her gaze on our loosely interlocked hands. I let my fingers slowly dance between hers as we gently played and caressed each other. I bit my lip and gave her a shy smile. I wanted to get closer but didn't want to move beyond a pace she was comfortable with.
"You OK?" I asked.
"A little short of breath, but yeah. You?"
I said nothing but slid closer towards her. Her legs were bent with her feet resting on the sofa between us. I draped her legs across my lap and reached over to brush the hair from her face. She breathed in deeply, slightly parting her lips with anticipation. I grazed my hand along her outer thigh as I leaned my body in towards her. I was slowly edging towards a kiss, giving her time and space to put the brakes on.
She had other ideas.
She put her arm around my neck and closed the distance between us, taking my top lip between hers. She was soft but deliberate. I took in the fresh smell of moisturiser on her skin as I parted my lips, letting my tongue gently find its way to hers. We continued the dance, the intensity growing as we moaned into each other's mouths. I knew it wouldn't be long before my body wouldn't allow me any rational thought.
"Fuck, you are...mmm," was all I managed to say, leaning back to give us both a little air.
"Ditto," she replied breathlessly.
"I really, really, want to keep going. I just want to make sure we don't go any further than what you're ready for."
"I'm not gonna lie. I really want to say, 'fuck it', and keep going...but maybe we should...actually...." She looked into my eyes and hungrily launched back into the kiss. As good as it felt, I worried it was a little too wine fueled - the last thing I wanted was for her to wake up the next day to regret it. I slowed the pace and broke away.
"This really is incredible, I just need to make sure..." before I could finish, she cut me off.
"Dammit. You're right. I've had a few to drink. We work together. Maybe we should take things slowly?"
"Honestly, whatever you need." We looked at each other for a moment, and I could feel the need quickly growing between us. I knew neither of us could trust ourselves to slow this down.
"I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I should probably take myself home...just to be sure. I'd love to stay but after that kiss...I know I'll be too tempted."
"No, I don't want you to feel like you need to leave."
"It's OK. How about we get brunch tomorrow? We can sit at a relatively safe distance from each other, across a table in a public place?" I gave her a cheeky smile.
"How about I find us somewhere with a booth so we can sit close together?"
"Deal."
