Ava pops a fry into her mouth, flashing an appreciative smile. ‘I like a woman with an appetite.’
Jean doesn’t know what to say to that. But she doesn’t shoot Ava down, just lets the flirtation stand, which is a response of its own.
‘You know,’ Ava says, between bites. ‘People think of lesbian relationships as being butch/femme. And fair play to all the women living that life. But it’s not the only choice. Butches can be with each other. Femmes can be with each other. And plenty of lesbians don’t fit into either camp.’
‘Okay.’ And it is. Jean hadn’t considered any of those possibilities, hasn’t dwelled on the ways in which women might desire one another. But the thought doesn’t bother her.
‘Also, you don’t have to be a lesbian to want other women. There’s a whole spectrum of human sexuality.’ Ava grins. ‘I just happen to sit very comfortably at one end of it.’
Jean blinks. She’s heard of Kinsey and his scale. But it had never occurred to her to question where she herself might sit on it; to imagine any other possibility than the life she’s mapped out for herself after graduation. Joining a respectable law firm, marrying a man who could match her ambition, making partner by forty-five. In every respect she’s succeeded, except the divorce – but that scarcely matters nowadays, outside of the church, even if it had sucked the wind from Jean’s sails.
‘You alright?’
Jean nods. Even knowing that Ava is not her competition doesn’t make it any more appealing, the thought of exposing this part of herself to a virtual stranger. ‘Tell me: is it very different to being with a man?’
A shrug. ‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘Of course. That was a foolish question.’
‘No, it wasn’t – not every lesbian has only ever been with women.’ Ava gives Jean a moment to mull that one over, getting stuck into a wing.
‘But if you’ve never slept with a man, how do you know…’ Jean trails off, realising that ‘what you’re missing out on’ may not be the most diplomatic way to end her question. She leans back in the seat, wondering when her curiosity outstripped all caution – and manners.
Ava’s smile is knowing, as if she can read the thoughts inside Jean’s head. ‘Do you want the honest answer? Or the PG one?’
‘Give it to me straight,’ says Jean. And right away she’s rewarded with that warm, husky laugh.
‘Honestly, my body’s only ever responded to women. Back in school I’d kiss boys at parties now and again, so nobody would guess. But there was no spark. No heat. Nothing. Girls, on the other hand?’ Ava smirks. ‘I realised early on that what they called practice was the real thing for me. The thing that made my heart race and other parts… well. I didn’t get how they could just stop as if those kisses didn’t leave them aching for more, and go back to their boring boyfriends the next day.’
Mouth suddenly dry, Jean drains the last of her sparkling water. But it doesn’t stop her from imagining what makes Ava ache now.
‘That was my misspent youth,’ Ava says, with an air of studied casualness. ‘But tell me. If you’ve never been with a woman, how do you know for sure that you’re not into it?’
She pushes the near-empty basket towards Jean, offering the final wing, not seeming to expect an answer.
And Jean takes a bite, savouring the final mouthfuls. She doesn’t know what this is, in that strange liminal space between a date and not. But – whatever it is – this thing with Ava is oddly comfortable. Jean doesn’t have to put on the performance of a desirable woman; she can simply let herself be desired.
Her glass is empty, the basket left with only a few crumbs. Jean had agreed to a drink, and has kept her promise – only, she doesn’t want this thing with Ava to end. For all the night’s electric possibilities to dissipate into nothing. ‘You know,’ Jean says, ‘of all the ways this evening could have gone, I didn’t see this coming.’
‘Same here. Ordinarily I spend more time bringing women up to speed with the practice than the theory.’ Ava’s eyes sparkle with mischief, and something else Jean isn’t ready to name. ‘But for you I’m willing to make an exception.’
‘Why?’
Ava raises a single eyebrow, sceptical. Then something unreadable passes across her face. And she looks Jean dead in the eye, says: ‘Because you’re a total fox. Smart, funny, beautiful – Jean, you’re a triple threat.’
Beautiful.The word hits Jean in the solar plexus, so earnest. And the way Ava looks at her, in that moment Jean feels it. Which is why she’s bold enough to slide round the booth. To lean into Ava’s curls; breathe in that intoxicating scent. ‘I’ve never been with a woman,’ she says. ‘But I’m starting to wonder whether I’ve missed out.’
She’s close enough to hear Ava swallow. ‘Do you want to try it?’
‘I—’ Jean’s cheeks burn.
‘Does the idea of it turn you on? Even a little bit?’
‘I don’t know, exactly – what it is that I’m supposed to imagine.’ Beneath the table Jean wipes her palms on her skirt. ‘I’m just curious is all.’
Ava tilts back her head and laughs, though Jean doesn’t understand the joke. Not until Ava adds: ‘I’ve been with a fewcuriouswomen. Once upon a time they were all I knew.’
Then there’s no more resisting it. Jean can’t stop herself from wondering what it would be like, to be known by Ava. To get closer still. And the opportunity to find out is within her grasp. ‘Would you like to be with another curious woman now?’
