Sapphic Voices Romance

Perfect Strangers

“So. When are we going to get together, Jo?’ she asked, yet again. I hesitated, still strangely reluctant about committing myself to a day and time to meet her. I couldn’t completely explain, even to myself, the reason that I still wanted to restrict all our contact to letters or phone calls; even after all this time. I just knew that, at present, I did.

“I’m really busy with work, Trish.” I prevaricated. “You know you’re just as busy as I am this week and I do want us to have plenty of time available when we do meet. We don’t want to be under pressure for time, do we?” I cajoled. I could tell that Trish wasn’t happy with this answer but, as usual, she accepted it with good grace.

“All right I won’t nag. When you’re ready I’m sure that the time will be just right. Anyway -- must rush now, love. I’ve a meeting in ten minutes. Call you tonight.


I knew I wasn’t being wholly fair on Trish. She’d been back living in Perth for over a month and we’d been writing and phoning for a couple of months before that, yet I still had avoided meeting her. We’d grown so close in our letters and phone conversations but if we met in the street we wouldn’t even know it, she’d be a perfect stranger!


I had an unusually quiet afternoon at work, so I allowed myself to daydream about the past -- memories of Jill coming clearly to mind. “What a beautiful couple” everyone would say and Jill would preen and agree with them. She always tried to plan the clothes that we wore so we would make the biggest impact on others. My blonde hair -- hers black; both tall, with me slim-hipped and small breasted, while she was more rounded with full, firm breasts which I used to dream about. Those dreams, along with the whole package, had disappeared with surprisingly little regret. Jill hadn’t been interested in me as a person -- I was always an accessory to her. I enhanced her looks and image; two very important facets in her life. After more than a year together, I hadn’t felt that I knew much about her but, with a mental shrug, I’d decided it was because there was probably very little to know and I realised I’d been searching for more, for much too long.


I’d only recognised and accepted that I was gay twelve months before meeting Jill and I’d already experienced one disastrous relationship when we met: so it was possible that I’d felt complimented by her interest and pursuit of me. I’d allowed it to continue way past it’s use-by date, however.


Looking back over the distance of time, I’d decided that it had been a good learning experience. It was also the reason why I thought my plan of action with Trish was correct. I wanted us to get to know each other before we met. I didn’t want my exterior looks to influence her. I wanted her to get to know the ‘me’ underneath the tall, slim frame; and the thoughts behind the blue-green eyes. I really didn’t want to know what she looked like either. She’d got as far as telling me she was tall on the second phone call but I’d stopped her, suggesting that it would be fun not to know about the other’s looks or appearances. She’d agreed -- to humour me; but the time was coming close to our first meeting -- and now I was scared!


We’d had a strange start to our friendship when I’d gone against all my normal behaviour patterns and instincts and put a personal advertisement in the local singles paper. Even though it was a ‘straight’ paper there’d been one category -- unused up until that time -- for same-sex partners. I’d listed my hobbies, likes etc. and had stressed that good conversation and affection were high on my ‘wanted’ list. I offered my friendship first and maybe more, somewhere down the track. I’d received a few answers Some were a little strange and were ignored, some were followed up and the women met; but it was always found that they had little in common with my way of life and the meetings had been somewhat uncomfortable and had petered out. I’d accepted that the scheme had been a failure before receiving Trish’s letter a full month after my ad. had been printed.


Trish had been temporarily working in Adelaide and a friend, who was unaware of her sexuality, had sent her a copy of the paper -- obviously hoping she’d write to a man and maybe ‘live happily ever after’. Trish had been idly glancing through when she’d seen my ad. and, as she told me in her first letter, something had decided her to write, even though she’d never answered an ad. like that before. Maybe it was fate that sent the paper to Adelaide -- Trish likes to think so.


One day Trish had surprised me by phoning and since then we’ve called each other regularly and written occasionally. Apart from my suggestion about not describing ourselves, we’ve been very open with each other -- giving a lot of normally unspoken details of hopes, dreams and even fantasies. It had seemed easier on the phone to speak and listen and learn about one another. We were both sure that we knew each other as well as we could ever know anybody and now we’ve been living in the same city for over a month and still hadn’t met.


I was still worried that, once we met, the relationship would change in some way and this was the basis of my fear of meeting her. I knew appearances shouldn’t count for anything -- but what about physical attraction? As I considered what things attracted me physically, I glanced down at my idle hands doodling on the message pad and saw that I had written ‘Octavia’s’. My mind drifted back to a week earlier, to my first visit to ‘Octavia’s’ café and the woman I’d seen there. Not beautiful in the accepted way at all -- but striking. Yes, ‘striking’ was the word I’d use for her. What had first caught my eye was her hair. It was luxuriantly auburn, curly and shoulder length. Loose tendrils fell across her face, criss-crossing the strong features and she had a habit of carelessly pushing them away every few minutes. She’d been alone, a couple of tables from my own and, for the most part, she’d been absently picking at a salad while she concentrated on the papers she was reading.


My eyes kept straying to her; something about the tilt of her head, her fingers brushing away the unruly hair, attracted me. She looked up once and caught my eyes on her and she gave me a fleeting smile before her paperwork absorbed her again. I noticed the hazel eyes -- not quite green but not brown either. The eyes have remained in my mind, in my memory of her, as her most compelling feature.


Even though I kept reminding myself that it’s the inside that counts, I had to admit that there’d been a definite pull towards this woman’s exterior, this woman’s packaging; especially when she stood to leave and I’d realised she must’ve been at least six feet tall.


I continued to ignore my growing backlog of work as I recalled the second time I’d gone to Octavia’s. It was two days after my first visit and I’d told myself that I was returning because the food was so good. On this second occasion I’d been on my way out, having finished my lunch, when she walked through the door. This time we’d both smiled and my attention had been drawn to the small, white teeth that gleamed between her full lips. I’d been disappointed that I didn’t have an excuse, or the time, to stay and look at her but I knew it would’ve looked far too pointed.


I sat at my desk, telling myself that I had to get this woman out of my mind and concentrate on Trish. I knew though, that it was because I’d been attracted to her and had recognised this fact, that I was now wondering if Trish would bring out a similar response in me. I was really hoping so.


Before I called Trish that evening, I pondered whether to tell her about the woman in the café. We’d always been open about friends, old relationships and people we found attractive; but I was reluctant to say anything, worried that she may notice the more pronounced interest in my voice. I decided against mentioning it. Trish didn’t bring up the subject of us meeting so, for a change, I did. I told her I was feeling some trepidation about us coming face to face. I asked if she felt the same way.

“No. I’m not worried about meeting you, Jo. I’m excited, curious and eager. I know my feelings for you and they won’t change when I see you.” Her warm tone brought an unaccustomed lump to my throat, before I laughed and asked if I’d warned her about how ugly I was.


The next day I was out on the road in my car and I glanced at my watch -- 1.20pm. My last visit to the café had ended at 1.45pm when I’d crossed paths with ‘Red’, as I’d begun to nickname her. I wondered if there’d be any harm in going to see if she was there again. I asked myself why I wanted to see her anyway; it was almost like cheating on Trish. While I prevaricated, I turned a corner and found myself outside Octavia’s! ‘Oh well. While I’m here’


I entered the café and felt a shaft of disappointment as I glanced around. Well, the food was good anyway. I sat where I could see the door and ordered lunch. As the waitress appeared with my order the door opened and my ‘Amazon’ walked in. She saw me, smiled and spoke.

“Hi there.” She seemed to hesitate in her step -- before choosing an empty table a little distance from mine. My heart was thudding and I wasn’t certain whether it was with relief or disappointment that she’d decided not to ask to sit at my table.


She ordered lunch and I watched her mobile face as she discussed the day’s ‘specials’ with the waitress. I glanced away as I saw her head start to move in my direction. I concentrated on my lunch as I felt her study me. ‘She’s probably wondering why she’s seeing me here so often all of a sudden or wondering why I’ve never got a man in tow.’ I thought, as her lunch arrived.


We started playing a game; I’d look at her until her head started to turn towards me, which was my cue to look away. I’d then slowly turn back to look again, in time to see the movement of her head as she looked away. She finished her lunch and, with determination, picked up her coffee mug and prepared to stand. ‘Oh God! She’s coming over!’ my normally serene mind panicked. Just as she pushed back her chair, a male voice boomed,

“Pat! Hi, mind if I join you?” I caught the half-concealed regretful look she cast in my direction before she turned with a smile to the good looking giant of a man who had just entered the café.

“Hi Peter. Yes of course you can join me -- but I do have to leave in five minutes.” Her voice sounded a little over-loud -- maybe to cover the embarrassment of the moment.


Their voices dropped as they got into conversation and Pat finished her coffee. She scraped back her chair once more, said a quieter goodbye to ‘Peter’ and made for the door. I’d been watching her reflection in the glass window but, as she came level with my table, I turned to glance at her. She paused, smiled and spoke.

“Hi, I’ve seen you in here a few times. Maybe I’ll see you again?” I put out my hand,

“Oh hi, Pat -- sorry but I couldn’t help overhearing,” I said with a smile and a nod at Peter’s back. “My name’s Joanna and you probably will see me here again. The food’s delicious.”. Her grip was firm and cool.

“Nice to meet you Joanna. I must rush now -- afternoon appointments etc.” and, with a smile and a casual wave of the hand she was gone, leaving me overwhelmed. How could she cause such an excitement to generate within me? I’d only met her three times. Where were all my theories now? Just what is more important? Loving the ‘inner person’ -- or being passionately attracted to the outer shell, without knowing what was inside? I was confused; a state of mind which I didn’t relish.


I rang Trish in the afternoon on the off chance I’d catch her at work but she was busy, her answering machine told me. It also said in her low, modulated telephone voice, how sorry she was but if I’d like to leave my name and number she’d get back to me as quickly as she could.

“Hi, hon,” I greeted in my own sexy phone voice -- not my opinion of course, only that of some friends. “Just wanted to talk to you -- I felt the need! Don’t worry about ringing back as I have meetings all afternoon. I’ll call this evening as planned. Oh -- and darling …..I think we ought to get together very, very soon.”


I knew the message would surprise and hopefully please her. It had sure surprised me! I hadn’t planned to say it but, having said it, I was glad. Let’s get it over with; see each other, touch, maybe even make love. I may then be able to get Pat’s face out of my mind.


I dreamed that night of moving into Pat’s arms. Looking up into her face and watching her lips approach as she bent her head slowly down to mine. As our lips touched I awoke with a hollow, empty feeling inside; a fire in my loins and a deep feeling of loss that it had only been a dream.


I lay in bed waiting for my heart to return to normal as I worried the subject, as a dog does a bone. What was really best for me? Meet Trish and learn to love her face and body, knowing that I already loved the person inside? Or see if I could get to know the inside of Pat, knowing that I was already deeply attracted to her exterior. My sensible self told me there shouldn’t even be a dilemma. ‘Go with who you know -- go with who’ll love and care for you and with whom you’ll feel safe.’ On the other hand, an insistent, daring voice urged me to ‘Go with your instincts, dare to find out more about her, dare to find out if you could love her.’


I tossed and turned and eventually rose at 6am and made coffee. At 6.30am I wondered whether it was too early to ring Trish. Would she understand my need to hear her voice, without me having to explain? I knew she would. I knew her so well -- and yet ….. on the phone the previous night she’d thrown me by appearing reluctant for us to meet, citing a busy schedule for the next three or four nights.


I’d allowed her to veer off the subject while she told me of a friend who thought she’d fallen in love with a stranger after only seeing her a few times. “Do you think there’s such a thing as love at first, second or third sight?” she’d asked, forcibly bringing to mind my own inner questions. I’d tried to answer truthfully.

“I don’t know about love but I’m sure you can feel a strong attraction -- a pull towards someone. Maybe it’s ‘lust at first sight’!” This didn’t draw the expected laugh from her, just a thoughtful,

“Yes, I guess you’re right.” She’d conceded rather reluctantly. “Yes. You really have to get to know the person as well, don’t you?” She’d sounded more decisive, more sure of the advice she’d give her friend.


I decided not to ring. I’d leave it until the evening as we’d arranged. My morning dragged slowly by and I found myself watching the clock. At 1pm, I made the decision. I’d go just one more time and then, once I’d met Trish, I wouldn’t go again. My spirits lifted once the decision was made and I walked briskly down to my car for the drive across town.


She wasn’t there when I arrived but that was fine as it was earlier than she normally arrived. I ordered and started to eat lunch, not tasting it -- just planning my actions. I was going to greet her and invite her to sit at my table. It was possible that I may find her conversation so uninteresting that my attraction to her would dim somewhat. The minutes passed quickly as I made my plans so, when I glanced at my watch, I was surprised to see that it was already after 2pm. She’d never been this late before.

My disappointment was all-consuming, surprising me with it’s intensity.


I ordered another coffee, half-convincing myself that I really wanted it. I determined not to sit and wait and hope but I didn’t get up to leave until almost 2.30pm. ‘Well, that’s it. I’m not coming back. I’ll just forget her.’ I didn’t feel like returning to the office, so I walked around for a while, pretending to look at shops. Not being able to concentrate, I wasn’t surprised when I collided with someone hurrying out through a doorway.


I recognised the softness of a woman but had to lift my head to see her face and, when I did, I took an involuntary step back in surprise as I found myself looking into Pat’s face. She grasped at and gripped my arm to steady me, thinking I was about to fall. She looked concerned, her height obviously making her conscious of not hurting anyone. Her hand remained on my arm but she gentled the pressure somewhat.

“I’m sorry -- I just wasn’t looking.” I apologised.

“No, it was my fault. I just came barging out of the café door.” My glance went to the building’s facia as I realised that it was indeed a café. I felt my eyebrows lift in surprise and she read my mind, flushing a little.

“Yes, I was trying somewhere new -- until I realised I’d prefer to be at Octavia’s, so I was hurrying to get there.” She explained at length, as if she really wanted me to understand. I wondered if she was hurrying to try to see me but then I had a sudden insight -- she had avoided the café specifically to not see me; but why? -- and why had she seemingly changed her mind?


I realised that I was staring into her eyes and my look was being returned in full. Her thumb started to circle gently on the inside of my wrist.

“Have you just been to our café?” she asked in a voice that was becoming more familiar and attractive to me. I nodded, unable to speak as I felt my pulse race beneath the touch of her thumb.

“Have you time for another coffee?” she asked -- and I had a sudden flashback of Trish asking jokingly over the phone if I’d like a cup of the coffee she was making. The guilt hit me hard and I disengaged my hand, just managing to refrain from snatching it from her.

“No, sorry. I have to rush,” my voice was brisk, “I apologise again for crashing into you. Oh, by the way -- I probably won’t be able to get to the café again. It was nice meeting you.” I abruptly turned away from the disappointment in her eyes. I took a couple of steps away then glanced back and, mingled with the puzzlement on her face, I detected a slight look of relief. I felt unaccountably hurt by it.

“Bye, Joanna.” She said softly, bringing to mind a half-memory; something familiar but not quite right. The feeling faded quickly as I gave one more brief smile and walked away towards my car. ‘Well, that’s it …no more Pat.’ I tried to find peace in the thought but it really hadn’t helped to learn that the attraction had been mutual. I told myself yet again that good looks and superficial attraction were not enough. I thought of Trish and my heart lifted again. I knew I loved the person she was and I suddenly, desperately wanted to see her. I wanted to get over the initial newness and possible strangeness as quickly as possible and marry up the person with the body.


I threw myself into work and finished in record time. At 5pm I rang Trish and bluntly stated that I wanted to meet her -- that evening if possible. She appeared temporarily taken aback and then spoke decisively.

“Yes, it’s time -- well overdue in fact.”


We planned to meet at a small gay bar close to my home. It was intimate and friendly but had booths which gave privacy. I arranged with her to meet at the bar around 7.30pm and I told her I’d be wearing a red shirt over black pants.

“All right. I’ll put on my purple top. I do hope it’s clean! I’ll probably have on black jeans. My hair is …..”

“No! Don’t tell me anything, Trish.” I interrupted “I’ll be seeing you soon enough anyway.”

“I’ll see you tonight then. God -- that sounds so strange! Bye Jo.” Her voice was soft and full of promise and my heart seemed to turn in my chest, “Oh God, I hope I like her and she likes me.’ I prayed as I hung up the phone.


I hurried home, washed my hair, put on my red shirt and looked for my black pants without success, ‘Damn! Where are they?’ I wondered. Eventually I decided that a black skirt would have to do. I smiled at myself as I chose the shorter of the two,

‘Trying to make an impression are we?’ I added the black tights and carefully applied make-up -- just the small amount I usually wore for work.


Glancing at the clock, I realised it was 6.45pm. ‘Dammit! Early for a change. I decided to walk to the bar as it was so close and it was still quite light. I’d then have a drink to relax a bit and wait for Trish.


Arriving soon after 7pm, I greeted Sue at the bar and ordered a white wine. I glanced around, seeing one group of guys further down the bar, a couple of guys in one booth and a couple of girls in another. There was another group of women in the adjoining pool room but a quick scan showed they were all wearing black or white T-shirts.


I settled down to wait, glad that Sue was busy as I didn’t feel like chatting. I wanted to watch the door, without it being too obvious, so I sat side-on to the counter, glancing at the door each time it opened.


It was busy for this time on a Friday night as a steady stream of people arrived. Most of the newcomers were men and I was relieved to see that a couple of the booths were still empty. At long last the door opened and I saw the purple shirt and blue jeans-clad woman stroll in. I couldn’t prevent my heart from sinking as I took in the very masculine look - tall, short hair, tattoos visible on her upper arm and the hard look on her face. ‘Why didn’t you let her tell you what she looked like?’ I chastised myself belatedly -- but then stopped remonstrating with myself as I remembered how much I liked the person inside.


I smiled at her in welcome and her eyes lit up as she sauntered towards me. ‘Well, she looks happy enough.’ I thought in a slightly disgruntled way.

“Hi. I’ve been waiting for you,” I tried to keep the smile genuine. “What would you like to drink?” She appeared a little taken aback, before she straddled the stool next to my own.

“Can of V.B., thanks love.” she told Sue who was hovering in attendance. I was surprised, I thought Trish preferred wine like myself but, before I could comment, the door opened and I glanced sideways, from habit. I was shocked to see Pat walk in and stand just inside the door. The light was dim but I recognised her immediately -- her green shirt the ideal colour for her hair.


I realised she couldn’t see my face as the light from the bar was behind my head but she looked both Trish and I up and down, lingering slightly on my mini skirt and the legs showing below. ‘Aha! She’s a leg person.’ I thought with a smile. Her eyes left us, as she searched up and down the bar. ‘Meeting someone,’ I guessed and felt a pang of jealousy of this unknown woman for whom she was looking.


I turned back to Trish and hoped that I just imagined the hopeful leer on her face. I dismissed the suspicion as ridiculous.

“So. Waitin’ just for me was yer?” it was said with a definite leer and I sighed with relief, knowing now that this couldn’t be Trish. I knew that a telephone could disguise a voice somewhat but this voice and especially the words she used were too different from my Trish.

“I think I should apologise,” I started politely “I’m actually meeting someone for the first time tonight and she was to wear a purple top. Obviously I’ve made a mistake.”

“Why! What’s her name?” was asked in a slightly belligerent tone of voice.

“Why? What’s your name?” I inquired. She hesitated but realised she’d have no hope of coming up with the correct name, so she told me her name was Ricky.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Ricky but I’d better keep looking now.” I swung around so that I was side-on to the door. I knew Ricky was reluctant to leave but, after hesitating a little, she strutted off into the pool room. I sighed once more with relief but I also felt apprehension, as I wondered if the real Trish would turn out to be similar.


My position now gave me a full-on view of Pat, further down the bar and I watched her lift her glass and sip her drink. She stiffened slightly as if becoming aware of being watched. She turned her head sharply and I saw the look of astonishment on her face as it dawned on her who I was and where she knew me from. I watched as pleasure replaced surprise and she smiled and nodded. I saw the quick look around the bar and the glance at the door, confirming my guess that she was meeting a friend -- or more likely, a lover. I didn’t feel any satisfaction of knowing I’d been correct in my recent supposition that she was gay. I just felt a twinge of regret at a lost opportunity.


Sue wandered over and we chatted for a while -- spoiled slightly by my frustration and disappointment each time the door was opened. I noticed that Pat’s head also turned frequently to the door -- her date also not having arrived.


I needed to go to the bathroom, so I asked Sue to watch out for anyone entering the bar wearing a purple top. I was washing my hands when Pat walked in.
“Date not turned up?” I opened the conversation.

“No.” she replied, worry in her voice “and it’s not like her. I know her really well and I know she wouldn’t just not turn up.” I felt a shaft of pain at the tone of her voice as she talked about an obviously loved partner. I tried to cover it by saying that I, too, was worried about the non-appearance of my date.


I went back into the bar and received a shake of the head from Sue. When Pat returned, she picked up her glass and asked to join me,

“We may as well chat together while we wait,” and, after receiving my smile and nod, she drew up a stool and sat on it, brushing my knee with her own in the process. The electric charge was palpable. I wondered how she could miss it but, when I looked at her flushed face, I knew she hadn’t. My eyes kept wandering to her luxurious hair as we talked of inconsequential matters. Our knees and arms occasionally brushed against each other, sometimes maintaining contact for a fraction of a second longer than the norm.


We’d both stopped looking at the door whenever it opened and I was talking about politics within the women’s movement when I stopped, totally forgetting what I’d been talking about. I felt I was drowning in her eyes and my lips parted slightly to accommodate my faster breathing. She didn’t seem to realise I’d stopped talking -- even when her eyes went to my mouth. I felt myself sway towards her, the need in me overwhelming. Her lips were a breath away and then there was nothing between us, as her lips pressed on my own. Soft. Not without feeling but, at the present time, without passion. It was a brief, exploratory kiss -- finished almost before it had begun; but I felt the imprint of her lips burning on my own, making them tingle.

“Can we go somewhere quieter?” Pat murmured, “I’m not familiar with this area.”

“Come back to my house. It’s very close.” I invited. Her look of surprise melted into pleasure.

“Yes. My car’s outside; do we drive or walk?” My heart was pounding with excitement as I suggested she drive us there.


I looked for Sue to wave goodbye - but she wasn’t around. We walked outside and Pat opened the car door for me, then got into the driver’s seat. She’d just started the engine when Sue drove up in her car and parked next to Pat’s car. She saw me,

“Off now then Jo?” she asked. Pat looked across at me in surprise. “Did the woman in the purple top turn up in the end?” I looked across Pat to Sue, who was looking in through the window -- and gave a negative shake of my head. “See you later then, Jo. Bye, love.” With a smile which encompassed us both, she walked off into the bar.


Pat turned the engine off and I looked at her enquiringly.

“Jo?” she asked.

“Yes?” I was unsure about the question in her voice.

“Do you have black pants?” which confused me even more.

“Yes -- I was actually supposed to wear them tonight but couldn’t find the damn things anywhere. Why?” She smiled. Hugely.

“I had the same problem -- but in my case it was the top I was meant to wear tonight. It was a little dirty. Purple it was…….”


I looked at her in amazement, “Trish? -- but Peter called you Pat?”

“Yes, I know. Peter goes back a long way -- to the days when everybody called me Pat. He decided he didn’t want to change, when I made my drastic life changes and requested that everybody call me Trish.”


We looked at each other -- speechless. My hand lifted, wavered, the dropped again. Her mouth opened to speak, then closed again. We looked away and then back again and our eyes met and the two entirely different feelings; love for the known person and attraction towards the unknown person, fused and became one.


I put my hand up once more and, this time, I stroked her cheek.

“Trish,” I started -- instinctively calling her by that name, “I love you; with all my heart - and body. Would you drive me home so that we can learn everything about each other?”

“Yes, Jo.” She grinned mischievously, “The whole weekend should be enough to get a start, don’t you think? I hope you have lots of food in the house. I don’t want to have to leave it …….”

If you have enjoyed F.J. Davey's "Perfect Strangers", then please be certain to e-mail her at  francis7[at]bigpond.net.au  and thank her for posting this Story.

Click here for a list of all of F.J. Davey's  Stories and Poetry at  Sapphic Voices Authoresses.