This is a work of complete fiction. Should you have any comments/criticisms, please let me know! at shstbs@gmail.com. Thanks.
WELLS, PART II
Anna. Her name was Anna. For some crazy reason, I was relieved it wasn't Beryl, or Dorothy, or Fanny. Anna was a beautiful, simple name. And it suited her. I played our conversation over and over in my head. A lesbian had just spoken to me! And not only that, she had touched my hand with her own, had smiled at me and- Jesus, did I have a date? The thrill of the knowledge that I, plain and uninteresting as I surely was, actually had a date with a lesbian made me sit open-mouthed at my desk for a good half an hour, oblivious to the phone ringing and the arched eyebrows of colleagues. I almost wished someone would ask me what I was doing later that evening, just so I could casually say "Oh, I have a date tonight."
It wasn't as though I could even go home and prepare myself. By now it was 1pm and the emails were coming in thick and fast, reminding me I had hardly done any work either today or the day before. I plodded on through my work as well as I could and tried to ignore the heavy, sick feeling in my stomach that was occasionally relieved by a gurgle of excitement. My date was waiting for me, across the road, in a little shop. And her name was Anna.
I was convinced the clock ticked backwards until finally, as my mother would say, the big hand was on the twelve and the little hand was on the five. I went to the toilets to reapply my light makeup, straightened my shirt and took a deep breath, picking up my coat and delaying the inevitable slightly, remembering from somewhere that being a few minutes late was cool and nonchalant.
I left work and strolled across the road, finding that the shop was, of course, locked. I knocked lightly and Anna came from the back of the shop, smiling as she saw me, and unlocked the door. The shop flooded me with warmth and the smell of fresh baking. Anna stood with flour on her hands, which she was frantically wiping off with a tea towel.
"Hello," she said brightly. "I'm making a cake, It's just this second gone into the oven. Please don't let me forget to take it out!"
"Erm, I have a stopwatch on my phone, if that helps?" I offered awkwardly.
"Aw, that's sweet," grinned Anna. "But I'll know from the smell of the kitchen when it's ready. I like the old fashioned methods best."
"Ah, I'm not really much of a baker," I said. "I, er, prefer... erm... frying..... things....." I went bright red and could have kicked myself for saying something so stupid. But Anna just laughed. She seemed to laugh and smile a lot. She didn't seem much like me at all.
"You're funny. I hate to tell you this but I bake whenever I'm nervous."
"Are you nervous?" I asked blankly.
"Sure," she replied. "It's not every day I deliver a sandwich and end up with a date." "Me neither," I replied. "I mean- it's not every day I, you know, have a sandwiched delivered and end up with a date." This was getting ridiculous. I was chatting utter rubbish but Anna either didn't notice, or was too polite to do anything but smile in her friendly way. I'd never even looked twice at her before today but now I looked at her, taking in her short, dark hair, her tiny nose and slim lips. She beckoned me in and closed the door after me.
"Come up," she said, leading me into the back of the shop. I could hear the hum of the chillers and the whirring of a breadmaker on the counter top. Anna opened a heavy door from the kitchen and it revealed a set of narrow stairs.
"You live here?" I asked.
"Of course," she replied. "You don't think I'd open at half past five every morning if I had to commute, do you?"
"I suppose not," I conceded. We walked up the stairs and it opened into a small studio flat, with mismatched furniture and shelves all over, full of books, and records, and craft supplies, and more books, and even more books. I was filled with a feeling of comfort and happiness when I saw the tomes, sitting there patiently, waiting for someone to take them down and love them. I breathed a sigh of contentment. "You read."
"I love to read," Anna replied. "I love finishing at three and coming straight up here with a good book, especially in the winter. What about you?"
"I finish at six in the evening and have an hour's commute home," I replied glumly. Anna laughed at my crestfallen face and playfully touched my arm.
"Pessimist!"
I smiled and she smiled back at me shyly. She held my gaze for a few seconds and then blushed, opening her mouth as if to speak, and then closing it again quickly.
"What is it?"
"I-" she began. "Last night you looked so lost, was that your first time in a gay bar?"
"Ugh, was it that obvious?" I went on to explain my story to Anna, that of a real innocence and yet a mature knowledge of my sexuality. She was easy to talk to and before I knew it I confessed crushes on teachers, guilty viewing of lesbian TV dramas and my fascination with the Wells advert.
"So you've never had a girlfriend?" she asked me curiously.
"I've never even kissed a woman," I said, now also blushing.
"Wow," Anna breathed. "You don't know what you're missing." Her eyes moved slightly to the left of my face, as though she dreamily looked past me into a manifestation of her imagination coursing through her consciousness. Then she remembered where she was and shook her head.
"I've not offered you a drink. I work to feed people and I am failing miserably with you."
"It's fine." I said. "I've not long had a brew in work."
"Well I can make you some of said fabulous coffee," Anna replied. "Or we can just fuck off the idea of civility and have a beer?"
I stood there, slightly knocked by her breezy swearing. I thought it would make me feel embarrassed if someone like Anna swore like that at me, but instead it excited me, made her seem all the more sexual. I had known of the woman's existence for just a few hours and yet already she was hearing my secrets and offering me a beer. It was turning out to be an evening the polar opposite of its predecessor.
We drank the beers on her sofa, chatting about work and Anna's life. She was originally from Northern Ireland, and still carried a strong trace of the accent, although there were hints of Scottish and even a slight American twang.
"I've lived all over," she explained. "Work, mostly. Training, some volunteering in the lower East Side of New York running a soup kitchen... and then I decided to return to Britain and open this shop." She spoke of how her father was killed in Ireland during the troubles and that she never even got to meet him. Of how her mother was a recovering alcoholic who, I could tell, had a close relationship with her daughter. And of her older brother, a painter who lived in France.
"Well you know my rather sad story," I replied. "But I love my work. It's had its knocks but I think we'll come through it."
"That's good. There's a lot to be said for satisfaction in life," Anna mused. A glint of something I couldn't decipher passed over her features and she looked at me.
"There's only a couple of things in my life I wish I could say I've done." She gave me a dramatic, whimsical look.
"Like what?" I asked.
"Oh the usual, skydiving... climbing Kilimanjaro..." Anna thought. "And, my big dream: to kiss a woman in a suit."
I pulled the bottle from my mouth and swallowed before I burst lager across her flat. Anna slowly put down her own beer and looked at me. I could feel my whole face and ears go red and heard the blood pumping in my brain. Anna took my hand and gave me one of her smiles, but it wasn't mocking. Instead it looked almost beseeching.
"You've never kissed a woman." It was a statement, not a question, but I shook my head all the same. "And I've never kissed a woman in a suit. How about we both fulfil a lifelong dream, right now?"
I swallowed again.
"Just for kicks?" Anna shrugged nonchalantly. All I could do was give a barely imperceptible nod and Anna took over. She gently prised the beer from my hands and set it on the table, before moving over on the couch and bringing her face to mine. She hesitated for just a second before placing her lips on mine.