Old Neighbours Become New Friends

I said that I hoped my hugging her hadn't upset her and that she hadn't thought was coming on to her. She didn't reply immediately, though I'm still not sure why, but then told me it hadn't upset her and that I give very nice hugs.

As she drank her tea, Mattie told me about her and Lisa from the beginning. Mattie had been doing her apprenticeship at college, when Lisa, three years older and a student at a London university, started renting a room in Mattie's parent's house. At that point, Mattie knew herself to be gay but hadn't had a real girlfriend. She fancied Lisa from the first time she saw her and, before long, she was sneaking into Lisa's room at night. It was a sweet, romantic story but I must admit the image of Mattie's and Lisa's nighttime liaisons was even a little arousing -- certainly more arousing than it ought to have been. "Keeping it secret was hard when thing got lively," she said, making me glad that my skin tone makes my blushes hard to notice

I told her that was almost too much information and now I'm a bit embarrassed about the "almost" because it made it sound like I was interested in hearing about her and Lisa together.

Mattie didn't seem to notice, explaining that the difficulty in keeping it secret pushed her to tell her parents about her sexuality. Of course, I had to ask how do you tell your parents that you've been sleeping with the female lodger?

It hadn't been easy, apparently, though Mattie's Mum and Dad had at first seemed more upset by the idea that Lisa had betrayed their hospitality by sleeping with Mattie than with the fact that she'd just told them she was a lesbian!

Mattie and Lisa had moved into the flat upstairs quite soon after that, something that Mattie thinks actually helped her parents to accept her sexuality. When Mattie mentioned that them not being religious may have helped too,.for some reason it occurred to me that, with my Mum, religion would have been much less of an issue than the probable lack of grandchildren! I guess that my being twenty-five, childless and single again will be a boringly repetitive theme of any conversation with Mum for the foreseeable future.

Mattie said that she and Lisa had been together for four and a half years, "...and then Lisa walked away." Perhaps it was insensitive, but I couldn't help asking what had actually happened, although I would understand if it was too painful

There were tears in her eyes and I didn't think she'd tell me but then she took a deep breath and roughly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"It's been nearly three months; it shouldn't still be painful. I shouldn't still be bursting into tears every time I think of her!" she complained and again took her hand to comfort her. "Maybe telling someone will help," she said and started to explain that things had been a bit "uneasy" -- that was the word she used -- between her and Lisa. Mattie thinks it was the fact that Lisa was an English graduate who loved to read and talk about literature. "All those big, highbrow books" Mattie called them whereas her own reading was limited to books like Harry Potter and The Hunger Games."

Of course, I had to defend those books because I think they're good books, as I told her and pointed to where the bookcase should have been but where my books are now stacked up by the wall, including all the Harry Potters and The Hunger Games trilogy.

It made her smile for a moment but Lisa didn't agree and started going out more and more with colleagues from work and her old University friends. It was one of them, a girl she'd been with during her first year at University that she'd started seeing. Mattie began crying again when she told me this, so I moved over to hug her again and this time I felt her hug me back, which I found sweet.

Even though I knew it would sound trite, I told Mattie that Lisa leaving wasn't her fault but Lisa's, just as it's not my fault that Gavin was a lying, cheating bastard. "We need to let the cheating bastards and cheating bitches go," I told her.

"I know, but it's hard!" she pointed out, and I had to agree.

I warned her that even if Lisa came back tomorrow, she couldn't just take her back because the old relationship they had is over. It would be like starting from the beginning again, finding out who she really is. "She may not be the person you're meant to be with," I told her, which I could see made her think.

"You're right," she said eventually. Mattie thought she'd been a bit love-struck, seeing Lisa, and had even felt guilty for dancing with another woman earlier, which Mattie knew was ridiculous. When Lisa kissed the blonde woman -- her new girlfriend, Mattie assumed -- it hurt Mattie so much and made her furious -- so furious that she just wanted to get back at Lisa, to hurt her back. I was looking at Mattie closely and could see she was really upset.

"I just grabbed the girl I'd danced with and kissed her, hard, without care or love," Matie said, tears trickling from her eyes. "It was horrible of me to do that to her, and I never said sorry."

I was surprised at her confession, a little shocked too I suppose but I tried to comfort her, telling her she'd been upset and confused. I edged closer and slipped my arm around her to just be a source of comfort. There was an odd contrast between the firm muscles of her body and the emotional softness and vulnerability within her.

Eventually she calmed. "Thank you, Raveena, for listening and caring." I felt, in a small way, that I'd repaid her for her help yesterday.

I made her another mug of tea. Given how open she'd been I couldn't help my curiosity and asked her if she was what they called a butch lesbian. When she gave a slight grimace at the question, I quickly apologised.

"No, it's okay Raveena," she answered tiredly. "The answer is probably, yes; at least a lot of gay women would call me that, but I hate the term 'butch', I really do." She said and I asked why. She said it was because the word 'butch' always make her think of the ugly dog in the 'Tom and Jerry' cartoons, which made me laugh.

"That's so not you!" I assured her, "because you're very attractive and lovely." I blurted this out without thinking; I mean, it is what I think I worried I shouldn't have said it.

However, there was more. It's wasn't just the word 'butch' that Mattie didn't 't like but the assumptions that go with it, things like people thinking that she literally wants to be a man. "I really don't," she explained, "I actually like my body the way it is -- female."

If that's the case, I asked, why dress like a tomboy?

Her reply was that she liked the freedom boys seemed to have; the freedom to run and mess around and play football and get dirty without being told they had to be quiet and neat and tidy and be 'ladylike'. She wasn't interested in clothes and makeup but liked practical things, which everyone seemed to say were boy things. "So why not join the boys: dress like them, play football with them and get messy like them," she smiled. "I guess I ended up fancying girls the way they do too!" She added, laughing.

And that was part of the 'butch' problem, she explained: the assumption that she'd be dominant, to be in control of the lovemaking and, basically, to be 'the man' in the relationship. "That's what Charlotte, the woman last night, assumed, but that's not who I am. I want to share as an equal. Am I stupid to want that?" she asked.

I assured her that it wasn't. Gavin always wanted me to be the 'little woman' and I went along with it and let him, almost without realizing it, I told her, adding how good it felt when she made me get on and put the table and chairs together on my own. "I guess the only stupid thing is ending up as something you're not for the sake of someone else," I said.

I was quite proud of summing it up so neatly, especially when Mattie told me it was "a very wise observation," and that I wasn't just a very pretty face, making me bashful.

We got onto talking about what I do for work, and she was interested in my job as a physiotherapist, particularly as she's once been a patient at King's College Hospital when she broke her wrist, well before I started working there.

"Do you do massages?" she asked.

I told her that I did, but that I'd trained in sports massage too. "Have you a nagging ache you need treating?" I asked, feeling a little suspicious of where this was going.

"Not at the moment," she replied, smiling and laughing. It was good to see her a little happier.

I commented on the fact that the chairs and table were still standing and thanked her for helping me overcome my flat-pack assembly-phobia

"No problem; I'm always happy to show a woman she doesn't have to depend on a man!" she smiled but there was definitely more than one meaning to that comment and she knew it. To cover my discomfort I asked her what she did and was amazed to hear she works as an electrician and full of admiration as she told of the problems of being a woman in a very male-dominated job. I asked her if she would like another cup of electrician's tea.

"Builder's tea!" she laughs, "and that would be lovely, thanks."

When I handed her the tea I put on a serious face. "Right, now we can talk about something I really want to know about you: which do you think is better, 'The Hunger Games' trilogy or the 'Divergent' trilogy?" Mattie laughed.

I don't think we reached a conclusion, though Mattie insisted that either would have been better with a lesbian love interest rather than the boringly predictable heterosexual one. When I pointed out that these were classed as books for teens and young adults, her reply was that there are teenage lesbians too, which was, I had to admit, a fair point. We chatted on for some time and I lent her one of my books, 'The Girl with All the Gifts' to read and she promised to drop one into me later.

Mattie

The day was hard, physically. We've been pulling cables for the wiring, so I'm tired as I drive home. It's on days like this that I really wish I wasn't single and that there was someone to come home to and who'd make a fuss of me.

I park up and stretch my back and try to loosen the stiffness from my shoulders, looking up at the block of flats. There is a movement at one of the first-floor windows and I realize that it is Raveena waving at me through what I work out is the bedroom window. It's so sweet I cannot help waving back and, on impulse, I mime smoking and she gives a thumbs-up. If I go for a fag now it saves climbing the stairs twice; I just wish I'd stopped and bought a couple of cold bottles of beer on the way home.

I lock the car door and head indoors, through the hallway and turn right into the corridor to the garden, when Raveena calls down the stairs to me. "Can I bring you anything, Mattie? A drink perhaps?" I want to say no, but she leans around the bannister and sees my face, which obviously tells a different story and, before I can reply, she smiles and asks, "Wine or beer?"

"Beer would be great, thanks." I wait in the corridor until she comes down, handing hands me a gloriously cold bottle before we walk out into the garden. Sat side by side I raise my bottle and tap it against hers. "Thanks, Ravi; cheers." She gives a little laugh.

"If you call me Ravi then I'm going to call you Matt; Ravi's a boy's name!"

"Ooops, sorry!" I hastily apologise. "It's just 'Raveena' sounds so very formal. Would Veena be acceptable as a nickname?"

"It's better than 'Raver', which is what I got called sometimes at school so, sure, why not?" She taps her bottle against mine. "I might still call you Matt though," she teases.

"You can if you want, though you might not want to do so in front of Kayleigh or Emma, the women you saw me with on Saturday," I warn her.

"Why's that?" she asks, intrigued.

"Well, because they're quite likely to tease you about wanting me to be your man or something equally embarrassing." I try to gauge her reaction but have absolutely no idea what her expression means: confusion, surprise, intrigue, worry -- any or all would fit.

"Ah, I see. I'd better stick to Mattie then," she says as she takes out her e-cigarette. I pull out my packet of cigarettes and light up. "Anyway, I think Mattie is a lovely name and suits you. I sometimes wish I may parents had given me a nicer name; you're right, 'Raveena' does sound a bit pompous "

"My parents didn't name me 'Mattie'," I admit and immediately wish I hadn't as I can see Veena wants to know what my name originally was. I hold up my hand to stall her question. "Okay, Veena, I'll tell you but you must promise not to laugh, okay?" She nods in agreement. "It was... Matilda."

"Like the Roald Dahl character," she smiles, "but I think Mattie is much more you."

"Thank you. I guess 'Raveena' is an Indian name; does it have a meaning?" I ask.

"It is; Mum is Indian and my sister Vasanta and I both got Indian names. Raveena means 'sunny'."

"And that is very appropriate for you," I tell her, "you were been brilliant yesterday morning." She smiles shyly at my heartfelt compliment.

As the evening darkens we talk easily, sharing how our days went and drinking companionably. I twist and stretch my sore shoulders, giving a little grunt of discomfort.

"What's up, Mattie?" she asks.

"Oh, nothing, I'm just a bit achy after the work today; too much lifting and pulling." She immediately scoots back from the rail and moves to kneel behind me. I feel her hands lightly resting on my shoulders.

"Where is it sore? Here, in the deltoids?" She touches the rounded ends of my shoulders.

"No, nearer my neck and a bit lower." Her touch makes my neck and scalp tingle.

"So, here? Or is in more here and deeper inside?" Her hands touch just below the base of my neck either side of my spine and trail lower, between the shoulder blades.

"Um," I say, moving my shoulders and trying to judge the location, "sort of both really. Sorry," I laugh apologetically.

"That's okay. It seems to be your trapezius muscles, here..." her fingers trace from my neck out across the backs of my shoulders, "and possibly the deeper rhomboideus muscles here..." her fingers glide from my spine outwards to the tips of my shoulder blades and this time I cannot help the shiver. "Are you okay Mattie?"

"Um, yes, just a bit cold," I lie.

"Would you like me to work on your shoulders for you?" she asks. "The muscles seem very tight and massage would help them relax and heal."

"No, Veena, you don't need to do that."

"Come on, Mattie, you've been so good to me over the last week and you're coming to help me build the bed and bookcase on Wednesday. Let me help you with this."

"Okay, thanks." I flop forward and wait.

"Um, this isn't ideal here. I mean, it's a bit cold and the concrete is killing my knees and, er, I can feel that you're wearing a sports bra and a thick work shirt so I can't really work on the muscles properly."

"Oh, yes; I guess you need me undressed to massage me."

"Not necessarily. I can massage through thin clothes, something like a loose tee shirt and not use oil. If you'd prefer a massage with oil then I need bare skin, obviously. For treating your shoulders, you could just wear an ordinary bra or wrap a towel around yourself to keep covered up."

I can't help a little chuckle. "I don't do 'ordinary bras' Veena, only sports bras. I'd rather go braless than wear some pink, lacy girlie bra!" I think for a moment then smile. "I guess I could just strip to the waist rather than faffing around; it's not as if I've much to hide!"

"If you'd be happier doing that," she replies in an offhand way as if my body is a matter of indifference to her, which is a little disappointing. I guess in doing her job she must see semi-naked women and men fairly regularly. Anyway, she's straight, so what did I expect? There was never going to be a lustful gleam in her eye. Besides, why should I want that? Charlotte looked at me like that and look what happened there.

"Veena, it would be really kind of you; I've never had any kind of treatment like this so I'd love to try it." I climb out from the railing and stand.

"I just need to pick up some oils and towels and bits," Veena tells me as we walk up the stairs so I wait as she pops into her flat and then we head to the top floor.

Once in my flat, I see her looking round in interest and smiling. "It's not all from Ikea!" I tell her "There's stuff from Habitat too." She tells me it's lovely, which makes me happy. Almost inevitably she's attracted to the poster that dominates one wall and goes over to study it. "They're all the posters from my hundred favourite films, as of a couple of years ago," I explain.

"It's brilliant," she replies, examining the playing card size copies of the movie posters "it's the sort of thing you could spend ages studying. So what's your favourite film?"

"Oh, that's too difficult a question; I found it hard to get it down to my favourite hundred!" I ask her what she wants me to do to get ready.

"Well, you'll need to undress and then if you can sit backwards on... this chair." She takes towels out of a small holdall and drapes one over the back of the chair; then the second towel, still folded, is placed on top of the first, balanced on the top of the chairback. "To rest your head on," she explains and then takes a couple of bottles out of the bag. "Have you any allergies?" she asks, "Nuts or anything?" and I tell her no.

I remove my shirt and bra, watching Veena as she watches me. She says nothing as I reveal my titties but gives me a professional but friendly smile. I sit as instructed and she asks if I'm comfortable before her oil-slick hands glide across my shoulders.

She begins gently, long strokes and subtle kneading, "Just to loosen the superficial muscle," she explains and the feeling is lovely. The pressure increases, her thumbs working on tight circles and I cannot help gasping at the stab of pain the pressure brings. She apologises and eases off a little but doesn't stop. Her ministrations lull me, her touch soothing and relaxing. There is a scent from the oil I do not recognise, slightly flowery but warming and comforting.

"What can I smell? Is that the oil?" I ask.

"The oil is sweet almond oil but I've added a little lavender essential oil. Lavender has anti-inflammatory and has healing properties but is also stress-relieving and relaxing. I figured after the weekend you could benefit from some help unwinding." She is absolutely right and I already feel more relaxed than I have in weeks. I lose track of time, my world just the smell of lavender and wonderful feel of Veena's hands on my shoulders, back and neck.

Inevitably, and all too soon, Veena is back to giving long, gentle strokes and then she is finished. "There we are, Mattie. How do you feel?"

"Oh, Veena," I sigh, "you've turned my shoulders to a wonderful, soft mush! I feel... Mmmmm," I sigh again and she gives a little laugh.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." I turn and reach for my shirt and slip it on as she wipes her hands. "I should warn you that you may feel a little sore in the morning where I've worked on the muscles but that should pass as you get moving. A hot shower or bath can help too."

"Okay. I was going to cook some pasta; you're welcome to join me if you've not eaten," I offer.

"Thank you. I... I'd love that. I get a bit lonely in the evenings so being here would be much better. Is there anything you need? I can pop down and fetch it."