The Office Party

Part 28

Going out with Diana becomes a regular thing. I think of it as 'going out' right from the start, because that's what we do on our dates: we go to bars and restaurants and the cinema; she comes along to gigs with the rest of us; at weekends we go on day trips, or meet up in town to go shopping or see a play or go for a walk. We go out several times a week – always on Fridays after work, but also during the week at least once. We always see each other on Saturdays, and sometimes Sundays too. We kiss hello and goodbye, on the lips, and one night after a gig we kiss on my sofa for quite a long time. That kissing session is wonderful: a long, hot series of fantastic kisses that are fun and sexy and get more and more intense as our bodies move against each other, but don't lead to sex. When Diana realises that I've slid quite a way under her on the sofa and things could start going further, she draws back and we stop. I'm not upset, because I think that whatever happens between us will happen when it feels right for both of us. I decide that I think we'll know instinctively when the time is right, and until then we've had a kissing session that makes me throb pleasurably just remembering it.

In the meantime, we have some lovely dates. I also like the way that we talk, and we talk a lot. It feels perfectly normal to tell her things about myself that just don't seem important when I'm with anyone else – because I know she'll just take them as part of me and find them interesting as a result. Similarly, she tells me things that even though other people probably know them too, she expands on them and tells me why she still thinks about them and I realise that suddenly I'm the only person in the world who has that small but important insight into her.

As time goes on, we build up quite a deep and close knowledge of each other. We get to the stage of being able to plan things to do together, without having to check first that the other one will enjoy it. I like the way I can come across something to do then email her at work to say, 'Such-and-such on Saturday', and find her reply a bit later: 'Sounds fun. Let's do it.'

I join a keep-fit class at the gym down the road from work, where Diana is also a member. One of our regular weeknights out involves leaving there together and going for a coffee and a late tea. I find it a lot more fun than I expected (the keep-fit), and am delighted when I can get back into that pair of jeans comfortably again.

Michelle decides which cake she wants for Toby's birthday. (Guiness and buttercream, obviously.)

When Diana comes to find me on the Friday of that week, she mentions a walk she fancies trying on Sunday, along a stretch of the canal out of town. I shake my head as I continue manipulating the spreadsheet I'm working on. 'Sorry, I can't this weekend. I need to make Michelle's cake. Well, you know, Toby's cake.'

'Oh.' Diana is very good at not allowing her real feelings through into her voice, but she does sound a bit flat now. 'Oh well. It can wait.'

'The cake, or the walk?'

'The walk, Fiona. Of course.' She sits there carefully waiting for me to give her my full attention.

I notice eventually, and sit up. 'Sorry, Diana.' I reach a hand across the desk and touch hers. (We haven't kissed like that time on the sofa again, but we do touch a lot: we'll often brush or touch hands, and usually link arms if we're strolling through town. Under tables, we'll quite often let our legs rest up against each other. We're never open about touching each other blatantly, but we manage somehow.) I take her fingers in mine and stroke them for a bit. 'I really need this Sunday, because his birthday's on Wednesday and Michelle's only coming in on Monday to get the cake. I'm sorry. Can we do the walk next week?'

'Of course.' She surprises me by suddenly turning her hand and linking our fingers. 'I'd like to be with you, even so. Would I be in the way if I kept you company while you bake?'