I was introduced to Evelyn when I joined the Philharmonic Chorus for the first time. The nervous wait to learn that I had successfully passed a series of auditions was over, but I had much to learn. Evelyn, a mezzo like myself, was asked to guide me through the early stages. In time she would lead me through other experiences that had nothing to do with singing.
At first I was totally involved in the new world I had joined. We sang with all the country's leading orchestras and under conductors of international renown. And as we travelled to new concert halls and recording studios, my friendship with Evelyn developed.
We had much in common. We were both married with husbands successful enough to allow us to pursue our hobby. Neither of us had children, Evelyn by choice, I because I couldn't. We both loved travel, our sense of humour was similar. In breaks between rehearsal and performance, we happily went shopping or sight-seeing together. We became good companions.
Evelyn was a petite brunette with an oval face, blue eyes, high cheek bones and a mouth I learned to call passionate. She was five years older than me at forty-one (though she liked to tell people she was thirty-nine). We had known each other for more than a year before our relationship changed in a manner that took me completely by surprise.
My car was in for a major service and the garage had had to wait for a replacement part. Trevor, my husband, needed his car for a business appointment, so Evelyn gave me a lift to rehearsal. On the way back we were gossiping about the inevitable affairs that occasionally blossomed and flourished or fell away in a choir thrown together as often as the Chorus was.
As we pulled up outside our house, Evelyn said, "We've been talking about Tom and Felicity, but an affair doesn't have to be between a man and a woman, does it?"
Even as I sensed a certain huskiness in her voice, I felt her hand rest lightly on my thigh. I turned towards her and we hesitated. There was an opportunity to draw back. Instead, unable to resist an instinct I couldn't identify, I leaned in to meet her embrace. Our mouths met. Her tongue slid between my lips and her hands groped for my breasts.
That was when I came to my senses and pushed her away, but gently, uncertain of myself. Sitting in the car in the darkness, we looked at each other.
Eventually, Evelyn spoke. "Jenny, dear, please don't be shocked. We wouldn't be the first to have felt that need."
"Need?" I asked, playing for time to understand my emotions. "Need for what?"
"For the kind of understanding two women can have. A different kind of understanding. Do you know what I mean?"
I thought I did but where was this leading? "Yes," I said," "I suppose I do."
She put her hand on my arm and squeezed gently. "You have to go in. Trevor will wonder what we are up to. Keep this to yourself for now, but think about it. I shall be at home tomorrow afternoon. If I don't hear from you, I will understand and we will just forget what has happened. On the other hand, I would be thrilled if you would call by for an hour so." With that, she leaned across, kissed my cheek and opened the passenger door. "Goodnight, sleep well and don't let it worry you."
But of course I could think of little else - to the point that Trevor asked if something was worrying me. "Yes," I said, making a decision that I hoped might solve my dilemma. "I was thinking I need two things. A stiff drink and a stiff something else."
Trevor was happy to oblige. But when I slept, I dreamt of what nearly was, and might yet be.
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The next day, after Trevor had left for his office I went upstairs, stepped out of my skirt, lay on the bed and let my hand slide beneath the waistband of my knickers. I had mastered masturbation long before I left school. A quick five minutes in a toilet cubicle always relaxed me before an exam. At night in bed, thinking about a boy friend or fantasising about a teacher, i learned to sustain that delicious point where I was on the edge without toppling over until at last the demand is so great it cannot be resisted. This morning I came fairly quickly but it was more mechanical than emotional. When I went to the drawer for clean knickers, I knew nothing had changed.
I fidgetted away the rest of the morning, looking at the clock avery fifteen minutes. Rationally, I knew I should call Evelyn and politely refuse. In fact, I knew I would go. At two o'clock I could hardly wait to collect my car from the garage and drive to her house.
Evelyn opened the door, took me by the hand and led me inside. "We won't talk," she said. "You are here and that says everything. We may need to talk later. But for now, come upstairs."
It was only then that I realised she was wearing only a housecoat rather than a dress. She led me into a bedroom and immediately turned and held me in a tight embrace. Her hands were cupping my bottom, pulling me on to her. Our mouths locked and I knew why I was there. My tongue found its way into her mouth as her hands began to feel for the hem of my skirt. As she worked it up round my thighs, her soft fingers were urgently caressing my buttocks. I must already have been very wet.
