Love Beyond Labels – Part 1

Love Beyond Labels – Part 1

Stood up on a blind date, a widow meets a woman and discovers a mutual attraction…

It has been almost two years since her husband died. A heart attack: thankfully in his sleep, which saved some drama, if not all of it. While love hadn’t been a topic in Laura’s marriage for many years, love him she had. She felt troubled when friends suggested she move on. How could she? Where would she even look? It had been half a lifetime since she’d been on a date. Had only ever dated, or slept with, one man. Didn’t really have the desire to build an intimate relationship with another.

Sure, her husband had been a gentleman. But while she had done her wifely duty and tried to please him, she found that there was little enjoyment to be had on her end, in life, or the bedroom.

Yet Laura finds herself seated at a table, waiting impatiently, and rather anxiously, for her first ever “blind date” to appear. He isn’t blind. Or at least, she doesn’t think he is, but having never before met him, and being set up by a friend who wears what was once described as coke-bottle glasses, it is an apt and slightly comical description.

She contemplates the ticking seconds on her watch face, finger and thumb holding the tiny apparatus like she can affect the time. Whether Laura would speed it up or slow it down, she doesn’t know.

Her date is seven minutes late; she notes as the long hand eclipses the twelve. Somewhere around the twenty-second mark of that minute, Laura’s toes are tapping along with the passing time. By the eighth minute, she’s stopped watching the clock, but has begun rapping her fingernails against the tabletop in the same rhythm. Tardiness is not a good start.

By the fifteenth minute, Laura is sorely aware her face has slipped into what her husband had once called “resting bitch face”, but she can hardly help it. Her first date in over twenty years and here she is, alone, waiting for it to begin.

“Stood up?” A feminine voice with a light southern accent asks from her left, the opposite direction Laura was staring, which is the entrance of the restaurant.

“So far, he’s just late, but how long should one wait until you’re considered ‘stood up’, do you think?” Laura replies, no longer watching the immovable door, but now focused on the woman standing beside her. A woman, she notes, who is wearing the most beautiful Jimmy Choo shoes, and is that a designer dress?

“He’s late, that’s enough, isn’t it?”

Laura supposes in the grand scheme of things it is. He’s likely held up in traffic, or a meeting has run awry. Perhaps he’s lost; or was hit by a car while crossing the street. But did it matter in the long run? He isn’t here, and Laura is.

“I suppose so,” she sighs, finally taking in the face of her converser. Piercing blue eyes framed perfectly by thick black lashes look back at her. A plump pink mouth sits beneath, the corners turned up slightly. Their owner is a combination of cute and gorgeous. Not too much to be either, but too much of either to be both. Attractive in the way that draws you in, but forces you to look away, so you don’t stare. Laura is very clearly staring now.

“Well, since I too am waiting for a man to announce himself, how about I take you out instead? Or we can stay here and share this bottle of red. It’s fabulous.” She holds up the wine in question, waving it slightly, the contents sloshing.

Laura can’t help but smile and says, “Never let a good bottle go to waste.”

“Hmmm, a woman after my heart. Eloise is what I’m called. I’m sure eventually you’ll come up with something different. And who might you be?”

“Laura,” she replies, unsure of how to take Eloise, who is self-assured and confident, and mostly what Laura feels she is not. It makes her self-conscious. Not in a jealous sort of way, but merely a niggling that makes her wish she had set her hair better or reapplied some rouge before leaving the office. Laura’s new guest sits daintily, her back perfectly straight. Eloise wastes no time pouring the wine into glasses.

“Laura. Lovely meeting you. Now tell me, what is this business of you waiting for a man?” The distaste is clear in the tone of the question.

“Oh, it’s a date. Or was supposed to be? Blind. Set up by a friend.”

“What sort of friend sets a beautiful woman up with a man who can’t show up on time?”

Laura can’t help but laugh. She decides she likes Eloise, who is blunt and honest, something Laura finds deeply refreshing.

“And yourself? What brings you out on this Friday night?” she asks, genuinely curious why a woman such as this would wait for anyone.

“Mine was business, and lateness is a definite contract avoidance. Tardiness is not a good look. As for dating. I haven’t dated a man in… twenty years now. They’re fine for some things — things involving muscles — but for others, I prefer a more feminine touch.” Eloise searches Laura’s face, and although she’s sure she keeps her expression stoic, Laura can’t hide her growing blush. Or the slight repositioning in her chair. She’s not uncomfortable. At least, not unpleasantly so. It’s just that Eloise is a stunning woman, and Laura has a vivid imagination.

“I was married for twenty years,” Laura replies, taking a sip, then a bigger gulp from the glass before her. The wine is smooth, and the flavors perfectly blended. “He died two years ago.”

“Are you sorry?” Eloise asks, and Laura thinks it a strange question, but Eloise looks so earnest as she watches Laura’s reaction that she can’t help but be honest.

“Sometimes. Others, not so much. Does that make me a bad person?”

“It makes you human,” Eloise replies, her expression softening.

Laura takes another gulp of wine.

“This is fantastic,” she says, trying to change the subject, but Eloise won’t take the bait.

“Yes, it’s a Bordeaux. What do you miss most about your husband?”

Laura sighs, resigned.

“Mostly the companionship. Having someone ask how my day was. Small things.”

“How was your day?” Eloise asks, setting her glass down to slide her hand across the table to top Laura’s.

No one has touched her in such an intimate way in longer than the two years her husband has been gone. She wonders if it’s pathetic that she finds her hand being enveloped by another woman intimate. Pathetic or not, it brings Laura a sense of comfort and she can’t help but be thankful for it.

“I was a nervous wreck, only to be stood up. But strangely, I’m glad. I can’t honestly say I was looking forward to it. I feel much better now, though. Thank you, Eloise.”

“You’re welcome, Laura. How about dinner, then we can talk more about wine?” Eloise smiles as she takes her hand away. Laura already misses the warmth of it.

“Is there something you recommend?” Laura asks, reaching for the menu that has sat untouched. She notes it is now twenty-five minutes past the hour.

“Any allergies? Or unliked food?” Eloise asks, and Laura appreciates that Eloise thinks of such things. Few people, in any aspect of her life, have asked her preference.

“No allergies that I know of, and as for unliked foods, my experience has been quite limited, I’ll admit. I was married to the same man I dated in high school and until last year lived in the same town I was born in. I’m afraid I’ve been sheltered.”

“Oh, so I get to be the one to pop your proverbial cherry. I’m honored.” Eloise’s coy smile perfectly matches the innuendo in her words. She raises her hand and immediately the server is there.

“I’ll have my usual, and my friend will have…” Eloise tilts her head and looks at Laura, raising one eyebrow. “Can you please bring Laura the special?”

“Yes ma’am. And another bottle of wine?”

“Of course.”

The server hurries off.

“May I ask, what is the special?” Laura asks shyly.

“Oh, it’s sea scallops in a lemon caper sauce. I’m having pan-fried duck. If you don’t like your dish, we can switch. Everyone loves the duck.”

Laura smiles. “Both sound divine.”

“Tell me more about yourself, Laura,” Eloise says refilling Laura’s glass. The wine is wonderfully balanced, but it’s going straight to her head.

“Nothing to tell, really. I was married, a stay-at-home mom. Children are grown, and my husband is dead. I moved to the city for a new start but found I’m not as brave as I thought, and sadly, people are not as good as I had at one time believed. That’s it, really. I don’t have an inclination to date again. Don’t get me wrong, I have no desire to be alone. It’s strange after all these years, but I don’t have the desire to open my life or self to a new man.”

“What about a woman?” Eloise asks, her expression open and somewhat curious. And again, Laura finds herself uncomfortable, but not unpleasantly so. Eloise makes silent demands of her, but they don’t feel like violations, only gentle pushes — like Eloise is helping Laura discover something not yet known.

“Oh, I’m not. I mean, I’ve, ummm, never…”

“You’ve never slept with a woman? Is that what you mean?” Eloise asks. She’s so poignant that Laura sits straighter, almost shocked.

“Well, yes. I mean, no. I haven’t… had sex with a woman,” she replies, her answer coming out in a rush of breath.

“Pity.” Eloise frowns, but her face alights as she says, “Well, that’s okay. I had never slept with a woman at one time, either. And now, it’s like second nature. Like riding a bike. Or riding a dyke.” She laughs loudly at her joke, and Laura can’t help but join her.

Suddenly curious, even if shy, Laura has to ask.

“How do… Well, how do women… Do it?” She makes a sexually explicit gesture with her hands and quickly tucks both under her thighs to help contain her growing embarrassment, but it’s written all over her face if the rising heat is any indicator.

Eloise raises her brow, but there is a smirk on her pretty pink lips. “How do women have sex? With each other? Is that what you’re wondering, Laura?”

The way Eloise says Laura’s name, her mouth forming an “o” to pronounce the ‘a’ and ‘u’, sends a tingle up Laura’s spine and she finds she can’t reply. Her voice feels lodged somewhere in her throat, so she simply nods her head. It’s only then she realizes she’s biting her lip. Immediately she releases it, bringing a hand up to wipe the sting away.

Eloise is fully engaged when she asks, “Well, how did you have sex with your husband?”

“Oh. Um, he mostly just stuck it in, flopped around a bit and grunted. I’m not sure I ever climaxed without my hand. It’s likely a miracle we had children.” Laura says, deadpan.

“Oh, dear god. That’s horrendous. Well, I suppose women could have sex that way too, but not generally. It’s more sensual, certainly. A lot of fingers and tongues. And toys.”

Laura knows her eyes grow wide and tries to control her expression. Her husband always told me she wore her emotions on her face. Laura wonders what emotion Eloise sees now. Laura is unsure which one she’s feeling.

Eloise’s smile is beaming, her eyes glowing when she asks, “Have you ever wondered what it would be like to sleep with a woman, Laura?”

“Well, yes, I suppose I have,” she says, swallowing before continuing. “You’re not the first… lesbian I’ve met, but I can’t say I ever really thought about it in depth.” She averts her eyes and wonders, does Eloise know I’m lying?

“Perhaps it’s just what you’ve been looking for? Oh look, dinner is here.”

The server sets a plate before Laura and her mouth waters. Steam rises off the dishes, the aroma wafting. Although the food looks wonderful, her salivation is not caused by the cuisine. She can’t help but wonder about what Eloise has said. Is that what she’s been looking for? She had thought of it. More than a little. She’s always wondered what the hype about sex with men was, and if it would be more enjoyable with a woman.

As she’s picking up her fork, placing a napkin in her lap, the front door opens. A man walks in, his hair disheveled and his tie slightly crooked. But that’s not what Laura has caught sight of most. She’s amazed at how much like her past husband this man is. Portly, and not particularly handsome. Although dressed well. She had always made sure of that.

He speaks to the hostess, his stubby hands sweeping back a comb-over before tucking his shirt back into his undersized dress pants. Under his breath, she hears her name and realizes her date has arrived.

It’s painstakingly clear she had described her husband so many times that her “friend” had picked the most like him she could find. The entire idea is horrifying.

“My date is here,” she whispers conspiratorially, cutting into a large scallop. The meat flakes delicately against the tines and melts as she places the morsel on her tongue.

Eloise turns and takes in the man addressing the hostess before turning back.

“How on Earth did anyone think that man could be a match for a woman like you?” Eloise asks, and again Laura wonders what Eloise sees when she looks at her. “Shall we call him over, or tell the hostess that Laura has gone home?”

“Will I be going home?” Laura asks. The words are out before she can rethink them, and yet she knows it feels right. Not because the wine is numbing her senses, or the food is better than anything she’s ever tasted, but because the company is exactly what she wanted. Perhaps, as Eloise said, what she needs.

A sensation Laura can’t name washes over her when Eloise replies, “I thought you’d never ask. Now, finish your dinner. You’ll need the energy.”


Read Love without Labels – Part 2!

Like this story? Find all of MrsK’s fiction.

Need some inspiration? Check out the photography page.

I'd love to hear from you!

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.