Page 21

Fuck.

Nicola rarely swore, even to herself, but this was excruciating.

Karma was giving her a nasty and, she conceded, deserved nip, having to prove she wasn’t homophobic to the woman on whom she had the biggest crush.

Geeta marched off to pay for her romance book, face dark and fuming. And although this was clearly a ‘very bad thing’ it was irresistible.

Look at her raging.

Geeta was gorgeous when she laughed, eyes shining with fondness for acquaintances, and deep love for those closer. Her generous soul had a way of reaching out with a kind expression and relaxed body language, which set others at ease and comforted without even touching.

But furious, dark-eyed Geeta made her blood boil in the best way. Swishing her head round to glare so the peppered waves bounced. Standing with one hand resting on the payment desk and the other on hip, accentuating her curves. That was a voluptuous woman who knew her mind, whose heart was strong, and tongue turned sharp for Nicola only, and she was besotted.

At this point, Geeta could be a secret serial killer and Nicola would melt. She found every single facet beguiling.

And now the beguiling woman apparently stormed out the door.

“Where are we going?” Nicola called after her.

Geeta threw back a glower. “You’ll see.”

Nicola caught up in a few strides, inextricably drawn to follow.

“Will you at least let me walk off in a huff?” Geeta tutted.

“Could you at least tell me why you’re in a huff?”

Geeta gave her a look that said, so many reasons and not to start with her.

They cut into Cornmarket, the busy central shopping street, then detoured to escape crowds down narrower St Michael’s. Nicola followed while Geeta stomped past an ancient pub, and cafes, and a hall.

“Well, what about here?” Nicola waved towards the cycle shop and cafe in the old bookbinders.

“Nope.”

And Geeta stormed ahead, around the college and towards the west. When she continued downhill past the curving entrance of the Westgate, Nicola paused and rolled her eyes.

She sighed.

“So, we’re still on Operation Gay?” she called out.

Geeta glanced back with a sweet, but also livid, smile.

“Fine,” Nicola muttered.

In the eighties, when she’d been at college, it had been a quiet, shadowy part of town, overlooked by a looming wall of tired shopping centre and the dark block of multistorey carpark. There was only one reason students lurked down here with glances over their shoulders, and she’d steered clear.

Now though, the space had opened up with redevelopment, at the castle and heritage prison too, and pride flags proudly decorated a timber-framed pub that still nestled in a side street.

Geeta stood in the doorway, with triumph written on her face.

“Really?” Nicola crossed her arms. “A gay pub?”

“I’m exploring and expressing my queerness,” Geeta replied.

“OK then,” Nicola said. She waved her in. “Let’s go in the Jolly Farmers.”

She ducked her head and followed Geeta. There was no patterned carpet or horse brasses any longer in this medieval pub, and it had a different arrangement of tables and snug, but behind the bar stood someone familiar.

“Oh, my goodness. Marta?” Nicola said.

Still here.

The server with long, dark hair glanced up with large hazel eyes.

“Yes? Can I help?”

Nicola smiled, striding up and putting out her hand. “You won’t remember me, but I’m–”

“Nicola Albright, QC,” Marta finished.

She put hands on hips, looked Nicola up and down and grinned.

“Although I suppose that’s KC now?”

“That’s right,” Nicola smiled as they shook hands. “You are looking very well.”

Marta gave a shimmy. “Happiness, acceptance and hormones,” she pointed her finger in the air, “have made me the beautiful woman you see before you.”

“I’m glad to see it.”

“I was starting my transition when we met, was it...?”

“Fifteen years ago,” Nicola finished for her.

“Oh my god. Fifteen years of oestrogen and patches. Powerful things.”

“Tell me about it.” Nicola lifted her shirt a little and patted her side. “Post menopause, I rely on them too. Keeps me feeling like myself.”

Marta laughed.

And Geeta stared.

Nicola smiled at Geeta being flummoxed for once. “HRT darling,” she said to her.

Although it was obvious Geeta wondered at Nicola’s familiarity with the gay bar, rather than being on menopausal HRT. But she also kept looking at Nicola's side.

Nicola bought them coffees and they ducked down a narrow passage into a courtyard beer garden behind the pub. She sat at a small table and Geeta chose to sit opposite, clearly to fume at her front on.

“So?” Geeta crossed her arms.

“What?” Nicola said innocently.

“You know what.”

She did.

“What were you doing in a gay pub fifteen years ago?”

Feeling guilty, that’s what.

Nicola took a sip of coffee, sat back and crossed her legs.

“I wandered in one afternoon after Charlotte started university. I’d finally accepted that Charlotte was out and wouldn’t change.”

One of the first actions Nicola took after that fateful picnic, with Geeta holding up a mirror and forcing her to give her life and attitudes a hard look.

“I feared for her, and what she’d encounter on the gay scene.” She shrugged. “So, I thought I’d take a look.”

“What the heck did you worry about?” Geeta rolled her eyes. “Competent lesbians living their best, independent life and gregarious gays? How terrifying.”

Nicola allowed herself a smile. “The Admiral Duncan pub bombing was still fresh in memory, and I was...” Always fretting about Charlotte. “Scared for her. And actually, yes, I didn’t know what to expect.”

She gazed at Geeta, waiting for more disapproval.

“So you talked to...?” Geeta pointed back towards the pub.

“Marta. Yes. I sat at the bar chatting with her. She was very generous with her time and reassured me that the Oxford scene was safe and the city liberal in general. And that Charlotte had found a safe place to land in this community.”

Paths to understanding were often guided by kind individuals with patient words, and she regretted all her harsh ones to Charlotte.

Geeta nodded and looked away, mulling it over.

“Well, what?” Nicola asked.

She received an unimpressed side-eye.

“I’m not being homophobic,” Nicola insisted. “I won’t say I never was.” She lifted her hand to stop Geeta’s correction. “Many times, I wish I’d said or did something different. But not anymore. Or at least, I’ll check my attitudes and improve when necessary. There.”

Really not anymore. Given the growing attraction she fully acknowledged to herself now. The way her heart beat quicker when Geeta looked at her, whether with fire, or warm sunshine. The way Geeta crossed her arms beneath her full chest, which lured Nicola’s gaze to the soft mounds of her golden brown decolletage. The way her hair moved when she swung annoyed towards her. The deep brown eyes, livid right now. The silky black eyebrows furrowed incandescent. The high curve of her cheeks that Nicola wanted to cup, and the defiant lines that had smiled, frowned, laughed and cried over life that only deepened her beauty.

Nicola’s blood warmed and pulsed whenever she admired her.

“For goodness’ sake.” Nicola tutted. It was aggravatingly obvious how strong her feelings were now. “I’d even read this sapphic smut.” She waved towards the novel in front of Geeta.

“It’s not smut.” Geeta pointed. “Not the way you meant it.”

“Lesbian sex then.”

“Yup. That’s why I bought it,” Geeta replied. “Lots and lots of lesbian sex.” Geeta licked over the words.

Nicola bit her lip to stop herself from laughing.

Geeta raised her chin defiant, and upped her offer to, “Sexy sapphic scissoring,” proudly emphasising every single term, and not caring who heard her.

But two could play that game.

“Frequent fabulous finger fucking?” Nicola nonchalantly suggested.

Geeta’s mouth dropped open. Then she narrowed her eyes. “Legions of luscious labia lapping.”

Nicola shrugged. “A multitude of magnificent muff munching.”

She grinned, because she could play this all day long. It was even more fun than her beloved court, and she had to restrain her glee at Geeta, earth mother, talking cunnilingus. She really, really , loved Geeta talking sex. It made her thrill and glow, and fire on all cylinders in multiple ways.

“So,” Nicola blinked languidly. “Is that it? Is that the extent of your lesbian sex knowledge?”

Geeta raised an eyebrow, as if to accuse her of the same deficit.

“Well, maybe,” Nicola purred, “we can both learn a thing or two from your romance novel?”

She let her gaze fall to the book, then reengaged with Geeta’s.

Fingers tensed around Geeta’s arm. Her attention darted to the book. Then back to Nicola. She opened her mouth to say, “No,” just as Nicola thrust out a hand and snatched it up.

“Stop it,” Geeta snapped. “Do not mock the book or queerness.”

“I’m not. I’m genuinely interested.” She plucked out her glasses from her blazer pocket and flicked through the pages, watching for keywords like breast and boob. She honed in on a flap and a clit.

“Here we are.” Nicola opened the book wider. “She touched her–”

“No!” Geeta stood up and scuttled round the table. “I'm not sitting here, listening to you make fun of this.”

“I’m not. I’m simply trying to prove–”

A hand reached for the book, and Nicola clutched it to her chest. Geeta leaned over, one arm around her back, the other curling in front, attempting to wrestle it back.

“Wait. It’ll tear if we fight over it.”

But Geeta wouldn’t let go, and when Nicola tugged, Geeta fell closer.

Nicola lifted her face to find Geeta’s right there. Eyes burning. Breath steamy and mingling with hers. Lips a short gap away. And the warmth of her chest the most wonderful intimacy. And her head spun, succumbing again in Geeta’s furious embrace.

“Look,” Nicola tried, “the truth is...”

She floundered, hypnotised by Geeta’s expression, blushing and gazing into Nicola’s eyes, and attention darting to lips and back again.

Nicola swallowed and tried again. “The truth is, I’m curious too...” Her voice slipped into a honeyed murmur, because Geeta always turned her sweet.

“And I want to know what it’s like to kiss a woman.”

Her. What it was like to kiss her. Because that peek inside the box of Geeta’s desires, that she’d admitted to Nicola in the garden, was compulsively intriguing, and she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“That I find women not just beautiful.”

Oh, her head swirled in this embrace.

“But I find them attractive. Sexy.”

Her. Always her.

“And I want to touch them.”

Like this and so much more.

“To be clear, I want to know what it’s like to fuck women.” Nicola said. “And I don't feel bad about it. At all.”