Looking back, I suppose the first time I noticed anything was at my daughter's twenty first birthday party when we danced together. The pressure on my back and the position of the hand nearly on my bum, were the first signs. There were more signs later when we were sitting round our pool on one of the rare days last summer when it was hot enough to sunbathe. I was wearing a rather skimpy and fairly revealing bikini, but then why not, we were in my back garden amongst family and friends? Numerous times during the afternoon and later when we had a barbecue I felt eyes boring into me, but I put that down to me overreacting.
There had been other incidences over perhaps an eighteen-month period. Individually they meant nothing, but collectively as I was to find out later each were significant. I realised eventually that they were silent enquiries and unasked invitations that I had not accepted or reciprocated. Gazes into my eyes that went on just that little longer than they should; smiles and raised eyebrows directed at me for no reason; sitting and standing closer to me than was really necessary; touching me on my arm or the back of my wrist and finding reasons to be with me when it was not necessary.
In retrospect I suppose I should have guessed, after all I am forty-five and have been round the block a few times so I should have worked out what was happening. But I didn't. I had no suspicions whatsoever, no feelings or instincts and no idea what was happening or what was going on.
That is until last Sunday afternoon when what happened could not be a mistake, an overreaction or a misreading of the situation. There could be no doubt on what was happening or what was going on when my daughter's best friend Jodi put her hand on my knee and said very quietly.
"Have you ever been kissed by another woman Missus Moore?"
*
My husband Richard had flown to the States that morning, my son Peter was in Ibiza at a friend's wedding and my daughter Sara was in London at some seminar to do with her degree course as she was cramming for some mid-term exams. I was alone in my house and would be all night and all week.
"May I just pop round and run through my essay?" I had been asked by Jodi when I answered my mobile.
I had agreed immediately. Having been a professional writer on and off for most of my adult life I was providing help with her creative writing that was part of her degree.
I had known her for many years. She and Sara had been to school together and they had become bosom buddies so she would often stay at our house especially after her parents split up and her mother moved to a smaller place with her boy-friend.
I had seen Jodi grow up from a gangling, young teenager to a beautiful young woman of twenty four. She was taller than me at around five feet seven, but was about my build and weight which is one hundred and thirty pounds or so. She had a lovely figure with long, shapely legs, a narrow waist to die for and pert, nicely shaped boobs. She had long, shoulder-length, almost jet black hair that she nearly always wore down, but on the odd occasion when she put it she looked absolutely gorgeous and so sophisticated.
When Jodi had called I was about to go to the gym so I was in my training gear. That consisted of a singlet, a little like an athlete's running vest and track suit, type pants that were tight round my tummy and across my bottom and hips so that either a thong or nothing under them was advisable to avoid unsightly bumps and ridges. Over the singlet, which along with the trousers was pale mauve, I was wearing a white with pale mauve markings zip up track top that I had left open.
Jodi was wearing the young people's uniform of blue jeans and a white tee, with a dark blue cashmere, vee necked sweater over it and she had flip-flops on her feet. As usual she looked smart and neat.
The afternoon started normally enough with her giving no hint of the bombshell that she was going to drop shortly. We had a cup of tea, chatted mainly about Sara and her degree course in marketing with her telling me about the latest trends in digital marketing, which I have to admit had rather passed me by.
I hade been in my conservatory at the back of my house when Jodi had rung so I showed her into there after her arrival.We were sitting next to each other on a sofa with Jodi holding a small laptop on her knee.
"I hope I am not stopping you going to the gym Cat, do you have a class?"
"No it's fine I am just going to have a work out, stretching mostly."
"With your figure, I wouldn't have thought you need to work out," she said smiling as our gazes met.
"Thanks, but we all need to keep as fit as we can don't we?"
"I guess so, but I reckon most people would think you are pretty fit," she grinned using fit in the way that men do when talking about women. That startled me a little and I felt a bit embarrassment
"Perhaps we should have a look at your essay," I said trying both to avoid my embarrassment and the worry that had hit me when I realised that I felt like that.
"Can we just talk a little more please, I need to be more relaxed when we discuss it."
"How do you mean?"
"Well to discuss it properly I need to focus on that and not other things?"
"Other things Jodi, what do you mean?" I asked looking at her, but she averted her gaze, which again made me wonder what the hell was going on.
"Well I sometimes get flustered when we go through my stuff don't I?"
"Yes I suppose you have at times," I replied thinking back to previous times when she had seemed to be confused and lacking in concentration.
"And I don't want to be today as this is a very special piece of creative writing."
"How come?"
"I have been working on it on and off for ages."
"Why have you not shown it to me before then?" I asked realising that it was me that was now confused.
"Because I want to get it perfect and make sure I will not get flustered."
"What is that makes you flustered?"
Looking up and holding my gaze with her eyes that for the first time I realised were brown, she said slowly and quietly.
"That is explained in the essay Cat."
For some reason that I could not put my finger on the atmosphere between us had changed, but I could not work out why or how or what it meant.
"Then we had better look at it hadn't we Jodi?"
"Yes," she replied opening up the laptop, logging in and moving closer so that we could read from the screen together. That meant that our arms, hips and legs were touching as they had been before when previously we had read her essays so, of course, I thought nothing of it.
Windows opened and I watched the cursor click on Windows Explorer. She clicked on a few folders and then opened a file that I saw was called Catessay.
Before I could look at it, Jodi half closed the lid and said.
"You have always told me to express my feelings when writing haven't you Cat?"
"Yes of course good writing comes from the heart."
"And that is exactly where this comes from."
"Good I should enjoy reading it then," I said reaching out and straightening the lid of the laptop.
"One more thing," she said also reaching out and putting her hand on mine to stop me opening it. "Please do not be annoyed with me for I have been rather controversial."
"That's fine, it is one of the points of creative writing to get to the bottom of things and challenge the status quo. Now come on let me look at it."
She removed her hand from mine and leaned back. I started reading.
'I am a young woman at university. Although I am told I am pretty and feminine, I have for some time felt that I was different to most other girls. This manifested itself most strongly just after I lost my virginity. I did not seem able to get the same pleasure from sex that my friends told me they did. I worried that I was always so tense, that I did not get as wet as sites on the web said I should and after having sex with three different boys over a three year period I had not had an orgasm.
Things changed when I went to university. It was a more grown up and sophisticated world. People were far more liberal and open and sexuality was discussed more openly than I would ever have imagined it could be. There were boys who were openly gay and appeared to be proud to be so and a smaller group that was lesbian.
There was a vibrant debating society that covered many different topics, which of course inevitably I guess, included from time to time gay and lesbian marriages that were then and still are a big topic.
In my second year, a guy I had been going with for a few weeks persuaded me to agree to a threesome with another girl who we both knew. She was pretty, large-breasted and had shoulder-length blonde hair. It was the most fantastic sexual experience I had ever had. They made me cum so many times that at last I learned what having an orgasm was all about.'
I could hardly believe what I was reading. Was my daughter's best friend really telling me that she was either bisexual or a lesbian? And if so why? Or was it really just a piece of creative writing?
I looked at Jodi, who smiled shyly and raised her eyebrows at me as she had many times before. Neither of us spoke or moved so still sitting close together with our arms, hips and upper legs touching. I looked back at the screen.
I had a six month thing with that girl. We saw each other for sex most weeks and had a couple more threesomes with that guy. They were important to me both emotionally and physically. They helped me realise that I was not a lesbian, but that I was bisexual. After Emma had helped me break my orgasm duck I had several orgasms with that guy with her there and then very welcomingly with her not there and it still worked; he gave me lovely orgasms and made me feel like a complete woman.
That all happened during my second year at uni. During the breaks I would see my old friends including Sara. At first I worried that I would want to have sex with them and particularly her. But that was not the case. She was a friend, a mate and that was off limits both emotionally and physically. I have not let any of my friends know about my bisexuality until now when I am letting Sara's mum, Catherine Moore, known by all as Cat, know.
As I read Jodi's amazing essay I could feel myself getting warm and nervous. My body seemed to be tingling and I felt tongue-tied. It did not really seem possible that this lovely girl who I had known for so many years was telling me that she was bisexual. But then I got my mind in order and stopped thinking negatively. What was wrong with that? Like many or most women I was quite curious about it and I have friends who have 'dabbled.' It seems to be more popular amongst rock and film stars nowadays and women together seems to creep into many films and books and even the soaps. I sometimes thought it was becoming part of everyday life.
Although never having had any sexual experiences with other women I could not honestly say that I was repulsed by the idea, but I had never been tested or put in a position where it was offered. If it had been offered or suggested I often wondered how I would react!
On top of that, other than one bad year when Richard and my relationship fell apart and I had an affair for several months, I was and still am a faithful wife. Until a couple of years ago I had not thought that I would stray again. Recently I was not so sure, but so far I had remained faithful.
"Is that it Jodi?" I asked as I reached a page break.
Looking into my eyes and holding my gaze as she did now and then she said very softly.
"No Cat there is more, but you may not want to read it."
"Why not" I said with a bit of a stammer.
"It gets more personal."
"I see."
"What do you think of it so far?"
I was not sure what to say. I wanted to ask if it was autobiographical, but felt embarrassed so I did not.
"It's well written. It's punchy and concise; it's a good job so far."
Her face lit up with a smile. "Thanks Cat."
