This story is based on factual events but has been blended with fiction. All names have been changed, especially the names of the two featured women to protect their identities. This is a rather lengthy story and is intended to be a slow burn, with the sexual tension rising until it erupts near the end.
If you are under the age of eighteen, please do not read this story. All characters are above the age of eighteen.
I dedicate this story to the English rose in my life, who inspired me to write this.
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It was a cold, crisp night in the middle of the city, cigarette smoke drifting above the heads of the people gathered outside in the streets waiting to enter the clubs. Light rain dusted the cars as they cruised by and soaked the pavement beneath the bustling feet of the laughing and boisterous revellers. A single figure wove through the crowds, dressed in black, with short hair, just as pale as their features. From a distance they looked like a man, but the fine features and slim neck were a dead giveaway that this person was in fact a young woman. She wore black jeans, old beat up sneakers and a warm, but somewhat oversized hoodie for her slim frame.
The figure walked quickly, feet never stopping, as she puffed at a cigarette, almost nervously. It was the crowds-they made her uneasy on the outside world, and she felt like an outsider with these people. The strangers around her, men and women, held hands and laughed, with seemingly not a care in the world. When I hold a woman's hand like that in public, she thought, I'm always worried she'll pull her hand away out of fear or shyness. Her reverie was cut short as someone called out her name.
"Ella! There you are." Her old friend from high school called out in excitement, thrilled to see her. Ella smiled, not at all surprised to see that Oscar was his usual exuberant self. The life of the party, he was nearly always at the club before her, the only club that Ella frequently attended, the local gay bar. Her sanctuary away from the world outside, this was the place that she visited whenever she could, which was Friday and Saturday nights. Oscar and a couple of his friends were outside finishing a quick cigarette before they entered through the front door of The Flame, the local hangout for fellow gays and even straight people who wanted somewhere outside of the box to enjoy a few drinks well into the evening.
"Hi Oscar, good to see you." Ella smiled, laughing as Oscar quickly put out his cigarette before bouncing over to her, throwing his arms around her for a joyful hug. "Let's go in then," Oscar said as everyone finished their smokes and made small talk about the past week. Ella smiled and together, the four of them showed their ID cards to the familiar bouncer out the front, and descended the neon lit stairwell into their very own wonderland. Several hours went by, a blur of two drag shows and drink after drink, all within the haze of blurry neon lights and loud music. Drag queens lip-synched and put on the show and dance that lit up the night, a kaleidoscope of colour dancing before Ella's intoxicated eyes...
The shrill beep of Ella's alarm ripped Ella from the land of sleep, sitting up abruptly, eyes glued shut with the previous night's sleep still embodied in her lashes. Fumbling in her bed sheets, as the light of dawn peeked through her tightly drawn curtains, Ella's numb fingers found her smartphone, and tapped off the alarm. For a moment she sat there, legs crossed on the bed, long blonde hair hanging down in a mess, then she lurched into action. At quarter to six in the morning Ella started her day for the nine to five work week. From Monday to Friday, Ella dedicated herself to work, and work alone.
But of course, her well-structured day consisted of other things aside from work. Ella would drive an hour into work from the countryside flat she lived in, to the city workplace where she was employed by the local government. She worked within the local courts of justice as a clerk, and had previously worked for a government run public security agency. Each morning she would walk the city block for approximately forty-five minutes, accruing a decent distance to get her heart rate up and her body ready for the day ahead. Often one of the first ones into work, Ella would spend much of her day at her desk or running files to and from different places in the office.
That particular morning Ella's recalled the dream this morning, and her memories from years earlier. Keeping busy was her way of keeping herself away from feelings of the past, and it was the only thing that worked. She was twenty-five now, and she knew that she had grown so much since she had been nineteen, as she had been in the dream. Her short, blonde hair that had featured in the dream had now grown long, below her shoulders. So much had changed. Ella found that in order to remain sober and out of hospital, she had to make sure that she was never really idle. And that dream that she had woken out of this morning, consisted of memories of another version of herself-one that was unemployed and solely focused on drinking, the next night out, the next party...
That wasn't Ella's life anymore, she knew, but Ella and her therapist had discussed that that version of her was alive, just dormant. It was an aspect of herself bubbling under the surface, ever so eager to re-emerge if she let her guard down. And Ella was acutely aware that she was in a comfortable place with her life right now, and she had come very far, so much further than she ever imagined she would. She had gone from working in unstable and fiscally less rewarding retail jobs, to a contracted government worker, one who couldn't afford to revert back to her old ways.
And though she valued the security of her work, and knew it was the crutch on which she placed her focus, it wasn't always easy. Ella had left her previous workplace two years earlier, after her previous place of employment was privatised by the government. Up to that point she had a lightly formed career plan which unfortunately was not going to pan out for her after all. However, she had at least begun to fit into the workplace after about six months, and knew who was who in the office, and who many of the external contacts were beyond that. But that was just the problem, the only real problem for her now. Or was it really a problem? Ella wasn't really sure; she just knew that it was what it was.
A woman in the office, Valerie Strickland, had caught Ella's eye. Not initially, but over time, probably six months into her time at the new workplace, Ella had begun to notice her. At first Ella saw her merely as a manager, but other notions had seemed to seep into her mind. Ella had noticed the way the sunlight caught in Valerie's hair, how her crimson locks flowed in the wind and shone as if it were a rich, deep fire. An older woman in her mid-fifties, Valerie carried herself with sophistication and class. And she was beautiful. She was petite, at roughly five foot four, with a luxurious body, curved and yet firm. Valerie's physique was much more substantial than Ella's slim, nearly fragile form. Her voice had deepened, but was wonderfully smooth, from her fondness of cigarettes. When Valerie spoke, one could hear the soft, yet poignant tones of her British accent.
Ella pushed countless daydreams of Valerie away, a feeling of unease, or was it guilt, stirring momentarily in the pit of her stomach each time. The thoughts would be gone, and she would carry on with her work as if it were nothing. Another time, during the winter, Ella had caught herself mesmerised by the outline of Valerie's legs, but thought nothing of it. Within herself, Ella was adamant that this was merely Valerie's good taste in skinny denim jeans on casual Friday, nothing else.
