Thank you secretsxywriter for your helpful edits and comments.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are 18 years or older when in sexual situations.
Camille – works for international pharma company. Straight. Confident, attractive business woman in her 30’s, single, and just broke off a long-term relationship. In Toronto airport waiting to fly to London to hook up again with a new boyfriend.
Eleanor – well known author of lesbian themed fiction. Bisexual. Long honey blond hair usually worn up in a chignon. In her 40’s. Just broke off a relationship with a male artist while living in Los Angeles. In Toronto airport waiting to fly to London to meet with her publisher.
The flight they are on is cancelled and rescheduled for the following day. As seat mates, they agree to meet at the airport hotel and have dinner together. They discover that they are attracted to one other, and even though Camille is straight she is open minded to a relationship with a woman and is captivated by Eleanor’s elegance, intelligence and beauty.
The two of them spend a memorable evening together making love and decide to skip the flight and spend the next three days sampling the international fare in Toronto during the day and making love all night. On the fourth day they fly to London so that Eleanor can keep her appointment with her publisher. This chapter picks up in their Toronto hotel as they are getting ready to fly to London.
I woke up first. The drapes in our hotel room weren’t drawn together tightly enough, and through the small crack between them, a narrow beam of morning sunlight streamed in, hitting my face. The bright light pulled me away from a pleasant dream and into unfamiliar surroundings. It took me a second to orient myself.
I was naked. Next to me was my new lover, Eleanor. She was naked as well, lying on her left side with her back to me. Her long, honey-blonde hair—usually up in an elegant chignon—was cast lazily behind her in a wonderful, wavy jumble that intermingled with my own hair. She was breathing softly, her chest heaving ever so slightly. I had my arm draped across her just below her arm. My hand lie on her chest, feeling the softness and weight of her right breast while it rested easily and comfortably in my cupped palm. I savored this early morning intimacy. The soft, silky luster of the sheets, and the even softer texture of her skin. I wanted to bottle this moment and keep it next to my heart forever.
I drew her closer to me, our bodies so tight to one another that a fine sheen of sweat formed on her back and clung to my breasts. The heat and humidity of our close proximity soon caused me to pull back, though, and I slid my hand away from her breasts. She stirred but didn’t awaken.
I was at a comfortable viewing distance, admiring the gentle curve of her back. The swale above her buttocks. The sensual cleft between her legs. She was as lovely a person as I’d ever been with. I traced my finger from her neck down the middle of her back, coaxing a soft sigh from her.
It felt so strange, yet so right, to be with a woman. I always thought my destiny laid with the world of men. Now? I doubted I would ever venture there again. In fact, I couldn’t imagine being with any woman other than Eleanor.
I reflected on my three, blissful, unforgettable days in Toronto. I hadn’t really spent much free time here before, and I discovered it had a vibrant, international community. Eleanor and I sampled a swath of different foods during the day and spent each night discovering each other’s bodies. Exploring our areas of common interest, which turned out to be many.
Eleanor had confessed that she’d had difficulty maintaining monogamous intimacy before. Her partnership with Nathaniel had been punctuated with a series of affairs and one-night stands. It was all with his knowledge and assent, but still. I told her about my series of failed romances, too. And we commiserated about how difficult it was to sustain anything long-term.
I wasn’t sure where our mutual infatuation was going to lead. But since there wasn’t any certainty in life, I wanted to play it out and see where I landed. So far, I had fallen head-over-heels in love with an amazing woman. Her elegance, worldliness, and beauty proved to be too powerful an attractant for me to resist.
I wasn’t surprised that she had difficulty remaining exclusive to one person as she undoubtedly attracted scores of admirers of both sexes. I had never confronted a wish for an “open” relationship, so I didn’t know how I would react if Eleanor asked me for that. I did know, though, that if she vowed that I was her one and only, I would be overjoyed. And I could already şişli bayan escort see a glimmer of something long-term…possibly even marriage.
Eleanor’s alarm went off, and the languid, early-morning intimacy soon became a frenzy of activity while we packed our bags, showered, and headed to the airport. We had rebooked our flight to London, and we sat again next to each other in first class. Before as strangers; now as lovers. It was a delightful flight with Eleanor and I comparing notes on our lives. An announcement for our descent into Heathrow came as a surprise to me. The hours had simply melted away, and I had been swept away by Eleanor’s narrative of her life.
We caught a cab into the city, and I stayed with Eleanor in her hotel room at the Savoy. Since I had broken off my relationship with my boyfriend in London, my schedule now revolved around Eleanor’s. She reminded me that I had promised to meet some of the folks she worked with—including her new editor—at a bar called Freedom in Soho.
After a quick shower, I chose a cotton blouse, my favorite pair of skinny jeans, and boots. Eleanor opted for a silk blouse, a black pencil skirt, and heels. I was the rough-edged country girl. She was the sleek and sophisticated city woman.
Eleanor was treated like rock-star-royalty from the moment we walked into the bar. The bouncer greeted her with a hug then waved to the bartender to get her attention. The bartender in turn beamed a big smile and waved back when she saw Eleanor. We walked across the main floor and didn’t get more than five feet at a time before someone stopped us to chat with Eleanor. Finally, the hostess ushered us downstairs to a private booth where two other women were waiting for us.
Before we reached the rest of our party, Eleanor pulled me aside. “I’m a bit embarrassed by all of the attention. I used to live in London and frequent this bar, so it’s just rekindling a lot of old acquaintances.”
“Eleanor, you’re being too modest. You’re a hero to these folks. The books you’ve written have really struck a chord with the lesbian community. What you’re seeing is an outpouring of love and support for your work.”
“Do you mind if I introduce you as my girlfriend?”
It was a bit of a shock to hear her say that out loud…and in a public place. I didn’t consider myself a lesbian. So having her say it would be public acknowledgement that I was at least bisexual. Also, we’d been together for less than a week. Were we already at the stage where we were defining ourselves as girlfriends?
Eleanor must have seen the hesitation on my part…that her question was making me uneasy. “Honey, don’t stress over this. I can introduce you simply as a friend.”
“No. I just needed to process what you said. I’d be honored and flattered if you introduced me as your girlfriend. There isn’t anyone in the world I’d rather be with right now than you.”
She pulled me close to her and kissed me long and hard on the lips. There were at least a half-dozen people watching us. At this point, the suggested introduction was superfluous.
Eleanor was soon surrounded by a gaggle of female admirers. And I was slowly pushed back until I was about ten feet from the group. Now, I was in the role of an eavesdropper, hearing fragments of conversations above the din of the bar.
“Isn’t she beautiful?”
” … girlfriend … American …”
” … did you see them kissing? … hot …”
” … guess she is a lesbian …”
” … just a slut …”
Just when I was about to turn around and head outside for some fresh air, Eleanor grabbed me by the wrist.
“I have some folks you have to meet.” She pulled me through the crowd of admirers, and I slid into our booth after her where two other women were already seated. “Camille, this is Nancy Flanagan. She’s my new editor. And this is Sarah Talisman, the owner and publisher of New Age Books.”
I shook both of their hands. “Pleased to meet you both.”
“I’ve told them a little about you,” Eleanor said, her smiling broadening when she added, “…and the circumstances of how we met.”
I felt my cheeks get warm. “I usually don’t get picked up by strange women at the airport terminal, but I’m sure you couldn’t blame me for finding Eleanor irresistible.”
My comment drew a hearty laugh from both Nancy and Sarah. Eleanor seemed delighted at my compliment as her eyes lit up.
“Trust me, I’ve asked Eleanor at least half a dozen times for a date, and she’s turned me down each time. Something about maintaining a professional relationship,” Sarah quipped. “I would have gladly traded my publishing business for a chance to be with her.”
Eleanor gave a sarcastic bow to Sarah. “Don’t listen to her. She’s been in a committed relationship with her partner for twenty years. I don’t think she would have even traded a used book for me.”
“Well, the truth of the matter is, there’s probably ten-thousand women in England that would give their right arm to be in your place, Camille,” Nancy observed. şişli escort “When Sarah told me that Eleanor was looking for a new editor, I asked her who I’d have to kill to have a chance of working with her. Seriously, Eleanor is one of the finest living writers of women’s literature.”
“Such high praise indeed,” Eleanor said. “But I didn’t bring Camille here to listen to testimonials. I wanted you to meet her because I know she is going to be someone special in my life for a long time to come.”
My heartbeat sped up, and I felt my face getting hotter. “I’m having the time of my life in London. And it feels like I’m with royalty when I’m with Eleanor.”
The three other women soon reverted to shop talk. I excused myself and slipped out of the booth to go to the ladies’ room and get some fresh air. When I made my way back into the bar, there was a crowd five-women-deep around our table. I tried to inch closer.
One of the women said to me, “Do you know Eleanor?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Is it true that she has a new girlfriend? I heard she’s some slut from America.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know.”
Another woman, a comely, top-heavy blonde who had apparently overheard our conversation, said, “So you know Eleanor? Do you know if she sleeps with a different woman every night? I heard that she does.”
I just shook my head and pushed forward, unable to speak now. Already, I could feel tears starting to trickle down my face.
Eleanor turned and saw me the moment I reached the table. “What’s wrong Camille?”
“I’m not feeling well.” I really wasn’t. I was just beginning this relationship. I was vulnerable. And what I’d just heard—what I was seeing? It made me sick.
“Let me take you back to the hotel.” Eleanor showed true concern on her face and started to get up.
“No. You’ve got business to do. And all of your fans are still here. I’ll be fine. I’ll wait up for you at the hotel.”
“Are you sure?” She glanced at her employer and back to me.
I could almost see the mental tug between knowing I needed her…but so did her business associates. Not to mention her fans. I made the decision for her and waved my hand, indicating not to worry, then pivoted to leave. “I’ll be fine.”
Despite my affirmation, I cried all the way to the hotel. The emotion of new love was overwhelming enough. And already, the remarks about Eleanor and her new girlfriend—about me—hurt deeply. I wasn’t sure if she was as promiscuous as those women claimed. But I certainly didn’t appreciate being called a slut by people that didn’t even know me.
I made the fifteen minute walk in ten. I wanted to expel the nervous energy from my traumatic experience. Especially because I kept replaying the conversations I’d overheard.
I was welcomed by an empty lobby…an empty elevator…and an empty room. I sat on the bed and wondered if the whole trip hadn’t been just one, gigantic mistake. Eleanor was elegant, refined, and revered. She was surrounded by women who adored her. I was clearly nobody. Apparently, just a slut she had picked up at an airport hotel. To be used once and discarded.
I didn’t know what to do or where to turn. My feelings of love and elation had devolved to feelings of rejection and despair. My phone chirped and I saw that I had received a text message from Oliver, the boyfriend in London I had jilted via a text message. Maybe this was my lifeline.
I first looked at my message to him sent four days ago:
Camille: Oliver, I’m so sorry but I can’t meet with you in London. I’ve unexpectedly met someone in Toronto. I’m so sorry to do this to you but I have to follow my heart. Please forgive me. Camille
I didn’t feel any better now than when I sent it. It was a shitty thing to do, to break up via a text message. Not my finest hour. Then I read his reply:
Oliver: Camille, I was heartbroken when I received your text. I thought we had something special and was looking forward to seeing if our initial attraction was the real thing. I’ve been thinking about it for the past few days, wondering if it was something I said or did when we last parted. If you are in London can we discuss? Oliver
It was late and I was feeling insecure and so very alone (and very guilty). I knew I should have waited for Eleanor but that wasn’t me. I needed immediate reassurance that I was wanted and loved. And there was a part of me that wanted to make amends for my bad behavior in the manner in which I broke up with Oliver.
Camille: I am in London. Staying at the Savoy. Can you suggest a pub nearby where we can talk?
Oliver replied within moments and suggested a pub that was only a couple blocks from my hotel. He asked if we could meet in fifteen minutes and I agreed. I already regretted my impulsive decision but felt I had to go through with my meeting with Oliver.
I went into the bathroom and checked my makeup and hair. It was no surprise that my makeup was ruined. Continuous crying can do that. I carefully reapplied my makeup and brushed mecidiyeköy escort my hair. There wasn’t anything I could do about my puffy eyes.
I went out again into the chilling London night. There was now a fine mist falling. I found the pub that Oliver had picked and saw him sitting at the bar already nursing a pint. I walked in behind him and placed my hand on his shoulder. He turned his head. His face first lit up and then assumed a more somber tone.
“Camille.” He got off his barstool and held his arms out to hug me. It was an awkward hug. There was no kiss. He picked up his beer and we took a booth in the back of the empty bar.
I started, “I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t make it easy on me. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you. But I feel awful for how I broke up with you.”
“You should, and you know that make-up sex can be great.”
He really wasn’t going to make it easy for me. “You know I’ve met someone else.”
I knew he was holding on to a glimmer of hope that somehow we’d get back together. This was not the message he wanted to hear.
“So you said. Who is he?” The passion left his voice.
“He is Eleanor.”
It took him a moment to process this non sequitur. “Ohhhh.”
I let it all spill out. “It was totally out of the blue. My flight to London was cancelled due to mechanical issues and the airline put up all of the passengers in a nearby hotel. Eleanor was my seatmate and we decided to have dinner together in the hotel. She was smart, sexy, and beautiful and before I knew it I was head over heels in love with her. I’m sure you will have a hard time understanding it. I can barely understand it myself. I’m staying with Eleanor at the Savoy while she attends to business. She’s a well-known author.”
“I didn’t know you were into women.”
“I didn’t either.”
“In some ways I’m relieved and in some ways I’m crushed. I’m relieved that I didn’t lose you to another guy. But I’m crushed because I can’t compete against another woman.”
I took his hand in mine. I wanted to reassure him but at the same time I didn’t want to encourage him. “This isn’t a competition. I didn’t intend this to happen.”
“You look like you’ve been crying.”
“Eleanor is a famous author of lesbian themed literature. I found how famous when we arrived in London. We were mobbed at the bar we went to, Freedom in Soho.”
“I’ve been to that bar. It’s a nice one.”
“I felt like a groupie. And there weren’t very nice things said to me and about me.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I don’t know. I’m confused. Forgive me.”
“Camille, I’m not sure I can forgive you quite yet but you contacted me for a reason.”
“I don’t know who else to talk to. Eleanor is a famous person and I don’t think I can handle being with her with all of the attention that she attracts.”
“Look, I’m not exactly the best person to ask about how to repair a lesbian relationship …”
“I didn’t know who else to turn to. I don’t know anyone in London other than you and I just feel so alone right now.”
“Well, I have a bit of time so why don’t you explain exactly what is going on.”
I spent the next fifteen minutes explaining how Eleanor and I met and the details of our relationship. Oliver was a great listener and only interrupted me with a few questions. After I was done he rubbed his chin and then formulated his thoughts.
“You’re in love.”
“Camille, it’s not just what happened today at the bar. It’s you. You’re afraid to make a commitment and Eleanor is the first person that has presented you with a true dilemma. Can you commit yourself to her? These self-doubts you’ve been voicing are your attempt to find a way out.”
He hit the nail on the head. I couldn’t suppress another emotional reaction. I went over to Oliver and hugged him and started crying.
“Oliver, you are so understanding. I’ve been a shit to you and I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted. Camille, I wish it were me but I’m happy you found someone.”
“I have, but I’m not sure I can handle this.”
“You have to go back to her and work it out. If she’s as great as you’ve described her I’m sure that she will have a solution. You’re a great catch.”
Oliver was right. I was short changing myself. Eleanor also fell for me – – and hard. She wouldn’t have invited me to London if I wasn’t right for her. We could have just had a one night stand and went our separate ways. I wasn’t sure why I had reached out to Oliver but now I did. I needed reassurance that I was doing the right thing and Oliver was able to rise above my slight of him to tell me what I needed to hear.
I kissed Oliver on the lips. He was slightly taken aback but met my kiss and held me tight.
“Oliver, I can’t thank you enough.”
“Camille, I wish you the best. You know how to reach me.”
“You’re truly a prince. Thank you.”
I held his hand, and then let my fingers slip away as I left the bar. It was back into the fine misting rain for the short walk back to the hotel. I got to our room, dried my hair, and then fell on the bed exhausted, thinking that I would rest for a few minutes and then undress and get ready for bed.