So the lesbian feelings, the desire for other women, the bisexuality or whatever. Is it still there? Yes it is, but as they say, it comes and goes. Sometimes I will go weeks without thinking about it and at others it is in my mind constantly. Occasionally as I masturbate Emma, Jane or Amanda will be in my mind or a vision of being in bed with Kylie Minogue, Sharon Stone or kdLang will suddenly come from nowhere.
I have been naughty about it as well. But then is it naughty? I'm alone so much of my time, my husband largely ignores my needs and I have the desires so what was wrong with me going to a lesbian pub in Soho? What was wrong with going into the club at the back? I'll tell you what was wrong they were all, well most, fucking ugly, very butch, hard core lesbians who scared the bloody life out of me. None of the sort of nice, feminine, lipstick lesbians that I had imagined. No, leather and denim everywhere, tattoos and piercings and short hair. Bloody horrible and clearly not my scene.
What's wrong with lesbian chat rooms? Again I'll tell you. Most are men masquerading as women and the "are you horny?" or "what are you wearing" questions are posed within 5 mins as opposed to the 10 in the straighter rooms!
Was it wrong for me to become a predator? Maybe, maybe not. Whatever, I certainly got it wrong the first time, for the youngish barmaid at the hotel turned me down flat when eventually, after considerable soul searching and two large vodkas, asked if she'd like a drink in my room when she finished. It was so 'unme.' I am not that forward and I needed the two large vodkas to pluck up the courage to try it on with the thin, but hugely sexy young Irish barmaid who I had thought had been coming onto me. She hadn't she was just being friendly I guess.
I didn't get it wrong the second time I tried some nine months later. No that time I got it right but then it was less blatant.
Richard and I had been talking for some time about buying a house in Tuscany, so I decided to take a four day break at a lovely hotel just outside Florence. I'd been before there with Richard some years before and it really was a delightful place. Stuck half way up a wooded mountainside it was so peaceful and rustic yet reasonably luxurious. The perfect place to relax, get some sun and good food but be by oneself. That can be difficult at many holiday hotels for I didn't want to be hit on by single, or married come to that, guys and I didn't like to stand out in the dining room as "the woman by herself." No I expected to have dinner in my room most nights and to spend the days by the pool or driving around viewing houses.
As it happened almost as soon as I arrived I met another woman for we arrived at the airport on the same plane and shared the courtesy car sent by the hotel to collect us; I was having a rental car delivered to the hotel later that day. She was in her late twenties, fairly plain looking and quite tall and slim with a boyish figure showed off by her tight jeans and loose shirt. She had shortish, blonde hair worn in one of those stylish bobs similar to Denise Van Outen and wonderfully, dark green eyes that almost all the time looked sad and pensive. Her rather prominent nose and thin lips stopped her being classically 'good looking' but the slimness of her body and her great arse more than compensated for that. We chatted easily in the car with her telling me that she was staying for a week or so visiting vineyards and restaurants to gather material for a book that her publishing house was going to write on Tuscany. I thought at first that she was a writer but she wasn't she was a researcher.
We both sat round the pool in the late afternoon just relaxing after the trip and getting some sun that had been sorely missing in England before we left. Karla was easy to talk to and we got on really well and I found myself telling her about my life and she told me how she had a boyfriend but that their relationship was at present a little rocky.
"Well Karla that's not at all unusual, especially when you've been with someone as long as I have with Richard" I advised. We talked about her research work and my writing and just chatted away as the afternoon drifted into early evening.
It seemed natural to dine together in the hotel that evening and when we met in the bar I have to admit that those "feelings" I sometimes get but usually contain well started welling up in me. Although not the most beautiful of faces she had a sort of haunting attractiveness and a very subtle sexiness. Not at all blatant but the way that she flicked the hair that fell over her forehead and her almost total disregard for the way that her short skirt ran up her long, very shapely, but slender legs began to get me. As of course did the fact that we were both alone in a hotel.
We had a great meal, a nice bottle of Borolo and finished off with two Grappas each.
I slept very well and drifted off to sleep with her face in my mind and my breast in my hand.
I didn't see her until after lunch the next day when she appeared around the pool in a stunning white bikini. Although it wasn't that revealing it showed her slim figure off nicely and of course emphasised the length of her wonderful legs that were undoubtedly her best feature, although that's a matter of opinion and many would give her bum that accolade.. She told me that she was visiting a local restaurant that evening that was renowned for its regional cooking and that as it was on expenses why didn't I join her?
I readily agreed and went off to get dressed for the visit to the as she put it "rather dressy ristorante."
Again we had a superb meal sitting on a lovely table looking out through open doors onto a large lake with the mountains in the back ground. We exchanged more about her failing and my boring relationship both of us admitting that we didn't really know what we were going to do.
Finishing the meal we caught a cab back to the hotel and fancying a night cap we went to the bar forgetting that in Italy hotel bars tend to close fairly early.
"Oh shit," she said when we found that it was closed, "I could have murdered a few armagnacs or brandies."
It seemed as though fate was intervening for just that morning I'd been shopping and had bought a bottle of cognac so that after the meals I'd imagined I'd have alone in my room I would have a little snifter, or two or three. I told her that and suggested that we have a drink in my room. This time that suggestion wasn't curtly declined.