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Should Nicola have refused that invitation from Geeta?

Would she even have been able to?

Because when Geeta pushed right back and said to do as she was told, Nicola thrummed inside. The defiance blooming in those beautiful brown eyes, delicious. The surprise of it coming from soft Geeta, who wasn’t afraid to show some strength and claws, irresistible.

Yet more undeniable evidence this was a crush, of course. Except here she was, knocking on Geeta’s front door.

It wasn’t as if she could avoid it anymore. It was like that children’s book etched into her mind from multiple readings. Oh no. A crush. A giant, lesbian crush. She couldn’t avoid it. She couldn’t hide it. She would have to go through it.

And her plan was to let it run its course and wane.

Nicola had seen crushes fade in other people's eyes. Never hers. She didn’t bother with yearning after people. If someone wasn’t interested in her, there were plenty more who were. My god, she despaired of that in her daughter – mournfully yearning for her straight best friend for years. That wasn’t Nicola with anyone.

She had plenty of flirtatious tension with others. Banter with men when sparks flew, and she knew some women appreciated her too. She’d just let this get the better of her. She'd pushed it down because Geeta was a woman, instead of facing it, and it had grown out of proportion, when she needed to let it free.

She needn’t even think of it as a crush. More an appreciation of Geeta beyond usual. Like a man she found attractive but nothing more.

There. Back on familiar territory. She could do this. Nicola had a problem, therefore she would fix it. Here we go.

“Happy birthday!” Nicola said, as the bungalow door opened in front of her.

And she was glad she uttered the words before seeing Geeta, because that sight...

The beaming smile. The fluid, easy manner. Geeta reaching out and kissing her on the cheek. The cushion of warmth as their bodies touched as delectable as the stroke of her cheek. Sigh.

“Thank you!” Geeta said. “Come in.” Geeta beckoned and turned down the hallway.

Bare foot and wearing soft cloth shorts. Smooth brown legs on show and curvy hips swaying as she walked. A bright white T-shirt that made her skin glow, and an open shirt that billowed as she moved. She looked beautiful and comfortable and happy. Nicola failed to hide her smile and the heat to her cheeks. Always with the transformation with Geeta.

“Excuse the mess,” Geeta said, as the smell of paint hit Nicola.

“Repainting?”

The plain white walls in the hallway were bare of the pictures Nicola remembered from years ago.

“I’ve finished the upstairs bedroom,” Geeta said over her shoulder. “I used Olivia’s old room when Sumit and I separated, and now I've reclaimed the loft. And the kids always hated the school photos in the hall anyway, so I decided to paint that too.” She waved at the wall.

“Although,” Geeta turned around beaming. “I bet Olivia will want them back again. She does not appreciate change, even when it means getting rid of something she doesn’t like.” Geeta raised both hands, in a gesture that betrayed years of the two bumping heads.

“Olivia likes things just so doesn't she.”

“She does.” Geeta laughed.

“And why not,” Nicola added.

Geeta swirled around with challenge in her smile. “Oh, I imagine you have strong opinions too.”

“Of course I do.” Nicola smacked her lips in a tut. “But change is exciting,” she added.

Change and challenge are what charged Nicola's life and kept her heart beating.

Geeta tutted with a broad smile, before swirling round in a fluid motion, the gorgeous flow of it accentuated by her curvy body. “Come into the kitchen.” She beckoned.

Nicola followed mesmerised into the light open space, the floor-to-ceiling windows revealing a lush garden that swept down to the river. Bird song filtered through the open sliding doors. The day roasted hot, and the garden shone bright in sunlight. Music sang from a player on the kitchen surface. And the smell. That wasn’t what Nicola classed as a simple dish coming from the oven. That had all kinds of spices thrilling the air.

“Your house is always so full of life,” Nicola said.

“Oh.” Geeta leant against the island that separated the kitchen space from the dining area. “It hasn’t seemed like it recently. But,” she smiled, “I have money coming in, I’m repainting and cooking my favourite chicken. And,” she pointed, “I’m going to play music!”

“A fresh start,” Nicola said.

“Fresh start.” Geeta grinned.

“Here...”

Nicola walked over to the dining table by more large windows onto a side path and shrubs. She put down her shoulder bag.

“A bottle for lunch,” she said, pulling out a chilled sparkling raspberry lemonade. “And a present.”

She placed the gift, wrapped in plain paper and a red-ribbon bow, on the table.

“Oh.” Geeta said, as if taken aback. “Thank you!”

Then pleasure bloomed on Geeta’s cheeks, and she stroked the wrapping paper. And that appreciation did something to Nicola. She liked doing this to Geeta. She’d never get tired of pleasing her.

***

So, Nicola Albright arrived bearing gifts? Well, well, well.

Nicola looked fantastic in her tailored summer dress, sleeveless to show her toned arms, and the front cut high over the chest, but with a teasing slit down the middle. And it was absolutely made for her fabulous long legs.

Nicola wore the fragrance that Geeta had always liked. It was a subtle scent. Surprising since every other aspect of the woman hit you over the head with force. And Geeta found herself leaning closer, trying to determine the herbal and spice hints. God. Maybe it was a lure for the unsuspecting. If Nicola didn’t pound you down with her logic, delivery and presence, she’d capture you anyway.

But these smiles and gifts? This was nothing like the Nicola who dropped off Charlotte as a student and strode right back out again.

Geeta gently tugged at the ribbon and the paper fell apart revealing:

“The Chemistry of Spices!”

She picked it up, the weight and hardback cover satisfying in her hands. She’d coveted the book in Blackwell’s after breakfast on May Day.

“I bought the epidemiology and history one,” Nicola said, prising the paper further apart with long fingers. “I think this is the one you liked. I can take it back if not.”

“That’s the one! Thank you!”

“I couldn’t find the romance you were looking at though.”

“Oh...” Geeta paused.

It had been a sapphic romance that caught her attention, because she’d never seen one on the bookshelves before. Yes, she knew they existed, just not right in front of her. And she'd grown even more curious since, with how Nicola made her feel.

It was probably a good job Nicola didn’t know the book though.

“This is lovely,” Geeta said, skipping past it. “I’m impressed you remembered these.”

“They’re very different titles to what I read, so they stuck.” Nicola smiled. “Sorry I didn’t catch the romance. I’ll pick it up next time if you remember the title?”

“Oh. No. God. No,” Geeta said. “This...this...is enough already.”

It was funny how her heart jumped at the thought of her sapphic curiosity being found out. After years, decades in fact, of supporting Olivia and friends, and being open and used to queer company, it was still an issue, wasn't it. And this was about her, and new feelings.

She breathed out.

And there was the unknown factor regarding Nicola’s acceptance of queer folk too. She didn't know how tolerant she was.

“I’m going to put the history book on the stairs to read in bed tonight.” She hugged the book to her chest.

“OK,” Nicola said lightly.

Geeta wandered out of sight, down the hallway, and took a moment while she put the book at the bottom of the stairs.

She hadn’t expected to be reticent. A surprise. Geeta took another moment to settle herself. She was many things, and sure of most of them. She had a deep foundation by this age, but she wasn’t confident about this. It was new and unknown. She didn’t quite know the boundaries of this part of herself yet, and that was scary as well as exciting.

Then she paused again as she came back into the kitchen. Because Nicola Albright was flicking through the spices book, her toned arms flexing with the motion. And not only gazing at the pages with warmth on her face, but humming and gently dancing from side to side.

Nicola was another thing she didn’t know the boundaries of yet, and that was scary and exciting too.

Although she shouldn’t stand here admiring her with intrigue, difficult when Nicola kept luring her attention back recently.

She gave herself a mental kick. “The roast will be ready soon,” she said as she wandered into the kitchen area. “I’m going to make rotis and a salad.”

“Do you want some help?” Nicola said, putting down the book and coming over.

More surprise.

“Yes?”

“Are you sure?” Nicola shifted her weight to one side and lowered her voice into sultry. “Do you not trust me in your kitchen?” she said with a smirk of accusation.

Geeta laughed. She wasn't sure if she trusted Nicola anywhere.

“Of course I do,” she said though. “I’m not used to people helping, that’s all.”

Nicola took off her watch and laid it on the island, washed her hands and rubbed them together. “Tell me what to do.”

She almost laughed out loud. “Do people order you around normally?” She shouldn’t say it with suggestion, but Nicola kept bringing out this side of her.

“Not often.” Nicola blinked languidly with that knowing feline smile.

“And do you take it well if they do?” Geeta tilted her head, unable to rein in the suggestion.

“Depends on who’s trying.” Nicola’s eyes dropped and roamed around Geeta’s lips. “And what they want me to do.”

Lips warming with the attention, Geeta pursed her mouth and blushed a little. Did Nicola realise how flirty she was sometimes? Or how it made people’s hearts flutter. By people’s, she meant hers right now.

“OK,” she said, matching Nicola’s smile.

And she took a deep breath and exhaled long and hard.

She put out a pile of veg, spices, oils and vinegar and half watched Nicola grind seeds in a pestle and mortar, while she added water to the roti dough. She did it by feel because she made them so often. The habitual expertise also gave her time to appreciate the strangeness of Nicola pitching in beside her, chatting and dancing as she went, and, yes, flirting. Also more time to appreciate the toned bare arms, with the light tan and scattering of freckles. The watch again. The side eye and smirk. Accompanied by that feeling that Nicola could pounce any second.

God, honestly. The irony of blushing and being reticent about her sapphic side to a woman who was like a mature lesbian pin up.

***

She liked the books. Nicola hummed while mixing spices. She liked books. She liked the books.

It was surprisingly pleasing.

And the suggestive flirtiness from Geeta? That was divine.

“What are you listening to?” Nicola said, squinting at the phone on the surface propped next to a small speaker. She hadn’t got her glasses on.

“It’s a random playlist,” Geeta replied.

Geeta had stripped to her T-shirt and balled the dough in her palms, her smooth brown arms rising at the bicep with the motion. She rolled the dough into a thin round circle, white flour dusting her dark fingers, and threw the roti into a dry frying pan. It puffed up for a few seconds, before she flipped it over for a few more and added it to a pile. The movement was tactile with a pleasing finesse and elicited a frisson of admiration.

That and how Geeta glowed.

“It’s one of those playlists that adds recommendations. I think it’s fixated on my love of trance and dance music, 90s Asian underground and Lady Gaga.” Geeta peered at her phone, squinting like Nicola did.

Nicola raised her eyebrows in question.

“Oh, I was relistening to some old favourites.” Geeta waved her hand. “They reminded me of college. Maybe because that was the last time I was single.” Geeta smiled absently, as if transported there. “Still love it though,” and she carried on rolling.

“Dance music?” Nicola said, intrigued.

“Yes,” Geeta replied, reminiscence still brightening her voice. “I was at Manchester for uni. Time of the Hacienda.” She drew out the last syllable while raising both hands in the air.

“Really?” Nicola tilted her head to consider Geeta. “I’m trying to imagine you out raving.”

But before she did, Geeta paused and glared at her, deep brown eyes shining with fury and pleasure. She loved it when Geeta did that. She really shouldn't. But Geeta with dark eyes and fire? That made Nicola feel more alive than high court.

“That’s,” Geeta pointed at her, “because you’re thinking of me as a wholesome mum again.”

No, she wasn't. But she indulged in a naughty smile. “Waving a rolling pin at me doesn’t help with that by the way.”

Geeta stared at the rolling pin she was brandishing. “Fair.” Then she laughed. “Hey,” she said lighter.

She switched off the hob, side stepped to rinse her hands, then grabbed her phone to stop the music and swipe at the screen.

“Look at this,” she said, grinning.

Geeta bumped her hip against Nicola’s leg, then touched her on the arm in that familiar way she did with everyone. Except Nicola felt it everywhere .

“I have a photo...” Geeta swiped and swiped. “Here.” She smiled and turned the phone towards her.

Elated faces with open mouths. Arms in the air and pale in the flash of a camera. A young white man in a sun hat and large, yellow-smiley T shirt, stood with Geeta very recognisable next to him, with beautiful long wavy black hair.

Nicola laughed. “Where is this?”

“An early rave somewhere. Can't remember exactly. Not a big one though. Not like the huge warehouse ones later.”

She looked at Geeta in the picture again, with long black hair, and a loose T-shirt of bright colours and patterns fabulous on her.

Mature Geeta was recognisable from the photograph. Still beautiful now. More so for Nicola. The smooth fullness of youth in the picture hid her face shape that Nicola found so attractive now.

“I wouldn’t have dared talk to you back then,” Nicola murmured.

She was suddenly surprised she dared now.

“What?” Those brown eyes narrowed at her.

“A cool girl like that.” Nicola pointed to the photo. “I wouldn’t have approached.”

“Like hell,” Geeta growled with disbelief. She glared at Nicola, her long inky eyelashes blinking with disdain.

“All true.” Nicola placed hand on hip. “You must have been bright. Gorgeous. Cool. Funny. Sharp. Confident. I wouldn’t have dared.”

Geeta opened her mouth. “Nicola Albright KC.” She crossed her arms. “Are you saying you're intimidated by me?”

Nicola stopped. And thought. Then she shrugged.

“Yes, I suppose I am.” She grinned.

And Geeta looked as if she wanted to stab her. It was a good job she was doing something with dough not knives.

“Stop being sarcastic,” Geeta said, pointing her finger.

“I’m not. I’d have felt like a stick in the mud compared with you.”

“Rubbish. You were having too much fun at Oxford balls and flinging yourself from bridges to get boys.”

Nicola leaned back and laughed. “Well, yes, but still.”

Geeta’s face blazed, annoyed at Nicola. Then she licked her lips and stepped closer, so the intimacy glowed between them. Geeta pressed a finger onto her chest with slow firmness. The pressure, commanding. The warm touch, intoxicating. Then Geeta lifted those beautiful deep brown eyes that shone with intelligence.

“You're playing with me.” Slow blink. “But you are not in court now, Nicola Albright.” Another delicious, languorous blink. “This is my birthday, and you have to be nice to me.”

And the very cool girl transfixed her with a single finger and look. Alchemy.

Not many told Nicola what to do. But when Geeta pressed a finger to her chest, as if it could burn right through her, Nicola would have done anything.