I worked late that Friday, partly because Jennifer was teaching a rare evening class (and Alex was fighting with Ben instead of having drinks with me), and partly because I wanted to show Lucy I was willing to put in the time and the effort, even on a Friday night. It was almost eight when Lucy walked over to my little corner and started what must have been her idea of a friendly evening chat.
“Hey Lee, can I ask you something, uh, a bit personal.” I had nothing to lose, in fact, I was convinced I stood only to gain from opening up as much as possible to my new boss.
“Of course, boss, shoot.”
“You’re a lesbian, right?” While it is true that I walk more on the butch than on the femme side of life − and I have my blazers tailored to fit − Lucy’s question caught me completely off guard.
“Huh, yes, I guess, huh, why?” I stammered. Lucy laughed, it wasn’t a nervous giggle, it felt more like mockery actually. Then she corrected herself.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. Do you mind if I sit down for a minute or do you have somewhere to be?” This conversation puzzled me more by the minute. Was she going to come out to me? Or worse, make a move?
“It’s OK. It’s not a secret. Did someone tell you or did you guess all by yourself?” I needed to be on the defence here. Millie’s words from last week still rang in my head. Lucy planted her behind on the only available spot on my desk. I instinctively leaned backwards in my chair.
“I just read your, shall I say, very passionate review of the new L Word DVD box, that’s all.” A smirk materialised on her face. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“I’m not worried.” I was though.
“The last thing I want to do is make you feel uncomfortable. I’m just helping out my aunt.”
“Your aunt?” This little talk grew weirder and weirder.
“Yes, my aunt. My favourite aunt to be exact, her name is Eleanor. I call her Auntie Eleanor of course, and she’s a lesbian.”
“Huh, OK−” My mind was furiously searching in all directions for a reply to any possible question she was about to fire at me. And I was praying she wouldn’t ask me to take her Auntie Eleanor, who was probably a later-in-life-lesbian, out somewhere, she could hardly be in my age bracket.
“You see, Auntie Eleanor lives in a big house in Kensington, it’s much too big just for her, so she rents out the two upper floors. One of her tenants just left and she’s looking to replace her with another fine lesbian. I just wondered if you knew anyone of your, errr, persuasion who is looking for a place to rent. It’s excellent value for money.” For a split second, my brain went Bingo Bingo Bingo. Then I became cautious again. Was she playing me? Had she somehow gotten inside my head and read my mind? Maybe she had overheard Millie and me talking about the rental prices of bedsits in East-London.
“Are you kidding me?” I still couldn’t believe it. Was this some kind of test? Were the candid camera guys about to jump out of the closet?
“What? No. Why would I be joking?”
“Because I’m looking for a place, quite desperately actually.”
“Really? You are? Well, that’s perfect! I just thought I’d ask you, you know, because as a lesbian you must know some other lesbians.”
“Why does she only want to rent out to lesbians?”
“You will have to ask her yourself. Can you come by this weekend?”
“Any time.”

To be continued…