Confessions

Chapter 1

Chapter 1“Ellie?” Came a familiar voice from downstairs; we have keys to each other’s houses and don’t stand on ceremony.

“I’m up here in the spare room.” I called back. I was currently sitting on the floor surrounded by boxes of crap that I’d dragged down from the loft. The previous owners had left all this stuff up there and I was finally getting around to sorting through it and chucking it out.

“Oh Honey!” She has no idea of the effect that calling me honey has on me. “You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards!”

I was soon laughing with her as I stood and looked at myself in the full length mirror, seeing the smudges of dirt on my face and dust all over my clothes; my hair sticking out at odd angles.

“What the hell is all this stuff?”

“I’ve found boxes of books with subjects as diverse as taxidermy and gardening, a suitcase full of old shoes, ratty Christmas decorations, and this latest box is clothes that I’m assuming must have been for an amateur dramatics society!”

Jane crouched down next to me and picked up a moth eaten paisley waistcoat from the top of the box, revealing the largest spider I’ve ever seen. Before I could register that it was dead I’d squealed and launched myself in the opposite direction, losing my balance and knocking Jane over along the way, ending up sprawled on top her.

She was laughing at me and calling me a wuss but all I was conscious of was that my body was pressed against hers and our faces were a mere inch apart. What would happen if I kissed her now? That dilemma passed when Jane kissed me on the cheek and tickled me and the moment was gone.

There had been other “moments” as we were often physically close, whether walking arm in arm or snuggled up on the sofa watching a film but nothing ever came of them and it made me even more reluctant to bare my soul. Surely if Jane was interested she’d have made a move by now right? Or at least given me some kind of indication that she found me attractive?

Jane helped me take the boxes down to the local dump and when we returned we went to our separate houses to get ready for our usual Saturday night “date”. Unless Jane was dating, which seemed to be less and less these days, or one of us was busy, we tried to find somewhere new to go every Saturday and this week it was the turn of a new Cuban restaurant that had opened up in town.

The food was distinctly average but the barman could make a mean cocktail, so after several caipirinhas we were feeling no pain and enjoying the lively atmosphere, despite the food not being great. We were just thinking about moving onto a nearby bar when the music changed tempo and the volume increased as two dancers whirled their way onto a small dance floor, the Latin beat filling the room as their synchronized movements, full of passion and innuendo, caught everyone’s attention.

There was enthusiastic applause when they finished but rather than starting again they each grabbed someone from a table to dance with instead and the dance floor started to fill up with couples trying to emulate their style.

“Come on!” Jane said enthusiastically, grabbing my hand and hauling me out of my chair before I had a chance to answer.

I don’t profess to be an accomplished dancer but Jane seemed to at least know the basics, so with her guidance we danced until we were exhausted and I collapsed back into my chair as Jane excused herself to visit the bathroom.

“What’s up?” she asked on her return. I can only assume that I had a somewhat wistful look on my face but I was hardly about to tell her that I’d been thinking about how wonderful it felt to have her hands on my body as we danced. She hadn’t got as raunchy as the professionals but never the less, her hands had skimmed my curves and she had absolutely no idea of the scorch marks they’d left in their wake.

“I was just thinking that learning to dance properly might be fun,” I lied convincingly “fancy coming to a class with me?” I was deviously thinking that if we got to spend more time dancing close then I might find a way to show Jane I was interested in her.

“Hmmm maybe.” Ok, so that wasn’t the enthusiastic response I’d hoped for but I was sure I could work on getting her agreement.

We asked for the bill and while we were waiting Jane asked if I fancied one last dance. As we joined the dance floor the music changed to a slow dance and I thought Jane was going to sit down again, so I grabbed her hand to stop her.

“This I actually know how to dance to.” I stated and pulled her close and placed my hands on her hips.

Only seconds into the dance I realised I was being guided and couldn’t help but laugh out loud, causing Jane to look at me quizzically with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, I just thought it funny that you instantly took the lead.”

“Hey, I’m used to dancing with women and you’re used to dancing with men; it makes sense for me to lead.” And with that she dipped me theatrically, making me squeal and laugh.

As the dance ended we hugged and I turned my head to kiss Jane on the cheek, thanking her for a fun night. It seemed Jane had a similar idea and as she turned her head as well my kiss landed squarely on her lips. Despite it being the briefest of kisses I know I flushed but it had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the electric feeling of her lips on mine, so I turned quickly and headed back to the table hoping she hadn’t noticed.