I almost didn’t notice the woman until I did. She was two benches away from me and she was working out her shoulders. It pleased me to see another woman in the weights section. All too often the area was dominated by small groups of men. Most harmless, some over keen with terrible form, and some complete arseholes who thought it their mission to educate any women who crossed their path.
“They should hang banners,” I said to her as I lifted two 15kg weights from the rack. The woman looked up at me. Her shaggy, dark hair shined from the light of the windows. “Two women in the weights section is rare here,” I added, as I sat down with my weights.
“I just joined,” she said, putting down her water and picking up two weights. She smiled then, and I felt a feeling I hadn’t felt for a while.
I threw her another glance. Ridiculous, I thought, as I did my set. I’m straight… aren’t I? And besides, why did I assume she was flirting with me? From her warm smile? The coy look in her eyes? I thought about eyes and how they give subtle signals, but then dismissed it. It didn’t matter if I thought there was something quite beautiful about her energy. I had a boyfriend at home.
I thought of Matt, who I had been with for six years. We’d finally moved in together a year ago, both of us ready to settle and nest.
“17.5? That’s impressive,” she said after I finished my last set of chest presses.
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“It took time to build up to that,” I said, my eyes flickering across her delicate arms.
“Consistency.”
“Definitely. But not overtraining. High weights, low reps. That’s what I do anyway.”
“Do you take any supplements?” she asked, and we continued to chat. As we did, I thought to myself how nice it was — not only to chat, but to feel something I hadn’t felt for the longest time.
Eventually, and reluctantly, I put my weights back and picked up my hoodie and water. “See you again?” I said as I left, and she agreed with an enchanting smile and a firm nod.
When I got home, I found Matt exactly where I had left him: on the sofa watching Flight of the Concordes.
“What are we having for tea?” I asked, slipping off my trainers.
“I’ve ordered some pizza. Okay?”
“Sure. I’m going for a shower.” And I ran upstairs. Feeling the water on my body, I thought of my new friend. I thought about her hair, her eyes, and her smile. There were other areas of her body that fascinated me too, but I almost didn’t dare allow myself to think of them. Until I did. As I thought of her breasts, held up high in her sports bra, I reached down to touch myself…
“Pizza’s here,” Matt shouted, sharply piercing my fantasy. I turned the water off and dressed fast.
As we ate, I told him that I had made a friend. “She was asking me for tips.”
There must have been something in the way I talked about her, or maybe a guilty expression on my face because, out of nowhere, Matt blurted out: “Is she gay?”
“I don’t fucking know,” I replied, my cheeks reddening. “What a question!”
“Just wondering if you were getting chatted up and didn’t know it,” he said, tomato sauce dribbling down his chin. “And if you were… well, I would be fine with it.”
I stared at him. “You would be fine if I had a fling with someone else?”
“A man, no. A woman, hell yes. As long as I could join in.”
“What are you, a teenager?” But I laughed with my words. Not because I thought it was funny, but because I wanted to lighten the conversation.
And I wanted to consider what he had just said to me.
“Fancy getting a coffee after your workout today?” She said the words I had planned to say. I was so surprised, I didn’t speak immediately. The past week, I had dismissed all thoughts as fantasy. I was monogamous. And I’d never been with a woman before. So whenever my thoughts drifted towards her, often when I was masturbating — usually late at night with Matt gently snoring beside me — I pushed them away.
“If you’re busy…” she started to say, which nudged me into action.
“Oh no, I’m not!” I sputtered. “I’d like that.”
The coffee shop was around the corner, and as we walked we chatted easily about simple things. It felt like a dance of words; each of us being careful to not reveal too much about our lives. I didn’t mention Matt, and she didn’t talk about a partner either. Was it possible that she liked me too? Was this more than a casual coffee between two new friends?
When she went to the counter to fetch a napkin, I texted Matt and told him I was having coffee with the woman from the gym. He responded immediately with a too-enthusiastic thumbs up, and I sighed and put my phone away in my bag.
It wasn’t long before the woman and I moved the conversation to the next level, moving seamlessly from the inconveniences of our jobs to our private lives.
“My ex was…” My ears pricked up as I heard the word — but I was so intent on looking at her lips as she spoke that I missed the next bit. But she didn’t specify gender, so I didn’t ask.
“We never went out towards the end,” she continued. I was listening intently now. “We just watched Netflix every night. The death knell of a relationship. We were like two sisters.”
Two sisters! My instinct — and Matt’s — was right. We had been flirting. Suddenly I felt happy, but at the same time, I knew I needed to be honest with her. So, when she asked about my romantic life, I cautiously said that my partner was working in IT. I watched as her eyes opened wide, but she didn’t comment. So, partly out of panic but also just to see what she would say, I told her: “He said he was fine with an open relationship as long as I brought home a woman.”
She bit. “I’ve never had a relationship with a man.”
Unsure what to say next, I simply replied: “I’ve never had a relationship with a woman.”
“Not even a date?”
“I don’t think so,” I said, as I couldn’t think of another answer.
She smiled then, and I noticed how perfectly straight her teeth were. “Women are more complicated than men,” she said, sipping the last of her coffee. “But that makes life more interesting. Mostly.” Her smile fell away from her face, and I felt she was caught in an unpleasant memory.
“Would you like another coffee?” I said, wanting to save her from her thoughts.
“No, but… do you want to go for a walk? Or have you got to get back to your partner?”
No. I definitely felt no need to rush back to him.
We left the coffee shop, and once we were off the road and in the countryside, our easy chatting sank into a silence and I knew something was going to happen.
“Hang on a second,” she said, as she leaned on a tree to dislodge a stone from her shoe. I put my hand out to steady her and my fingers brushed down the back of her hand. That’s when I felt it. The spark of electricity. And just as I wondered if she felt it as well, I saw in her eyes that she had. The sound of the wind and the rustling of the leaves stilled, and there was only us in that moment. Before I knew it, she leaned forward and kissed me, and I felt the sparks radiate through my head. Her lips were warm and so soft, and I felt her tongue slip into my mouth. Her hands brushed my hair from my face and I tentatively placed my hands around her waist. We kissed for what could have been a minute or an hour.
I knew that this was the moment I should invite her home. Matt was probably pacing nervously, ready for an intimate encounter he had dreamed of for many years. But this felt private and I (and the woman) didn’t want him involved.
We ducked under some barbed wire and found ourselves completely alone in a field. She pulled me onto the soft grass and we began to kiss again. Now hands were searching, and I felt hers slip under my t-shirt but over my sports bra. I felt my nipples harden and she very gently pulled one and then the other. I moaned and felt my knickers flood with moisture.
I parted my legs and she pressed her groin against mine. We were still wearing our gym clothes but it didn’t matter. In fact, the sheerness of the material made every feeling more intense. She grinded against me and I picked up her rhythm and matched it. My hands, just under her t-shirt, stroked her torso, doing to her what I always liked, but however many times I had asked Matt over the years to just stroke my skin, he didn’t. He was always too intent to get to the intimate areas.
But being with a woman was different.
We kissed again and this time it felt more urgent; mouths wider and tongues darting deeper. I didn’t want it to end, but I could feel the frustration building. Fingers finding more skin and finely tuning it. Soft hands, soft lips, and the pressing of our bodies together, and I knew I wanted to make her come. I trailed one hand down to her pussy, pressed my fingers on her soft flesh, and began to stroke in circles, just the way I liked it. She was enjoying it; I could tell from her moans. I traced my hand up to find her clit and started to massage it. She lay back on the grass and I kissed her, feeling her moans in my mouth. And as she reached her orgasm, her whole body shaking, I continued to stroke until she reached the last wave — and I felt like I could feel her climax flowing through my own body.
“You now,” she said, teasing my trousers down, and moving her head down between my legs. Then she licked, gently, and I was almost embarrassed because of how wet I was, but then I didn’t care. I let myself fall into the moment. I felt two fingers slip into my vagina, finding my G-spot, and I knew that this was going to be one of the best orgasms I had ever had. The build up had been such a beautiful blend of patience, tension, and softness. I loved worshipping another woman’s body — and having her worship mine. And as I came, I shouted to a God I now believed in under a beautiful sky.
Afterwards, we lay in silence on our backs in the grass. My fingers found hers and we lightly stroked the backs of each other’s hands.
‘What now?’ I wanted to ask, but I didn’t. I thought about Matt at home watching Netflix and I felt sad for him. For us. I didn’t know what would happen next. For all I knew, this perfect segment of time would never be repeated. Perhaps it never should be. When a person seems so perfect, it is only a matter of time before they disappoint. Or I would disappoint her. And one day she would be having coffee with another woman, talking about me.
As I watched a leaf fall from a tree and drift past us in the wind, I tried to silence my worries. The chaos, whatever it might entail, could come later. For now, I’d just lie here in my post-orgasmic bliss.
Eve Smith is the author of How Was It For You?: The Lives and Loves of a Sex Worker, which is out now and available in paperback, audiobook, and ebook.
