Hoff and Hols, a Romance Ch. 20

I discovered something that night, quite apart from the fact that I could give my Emma that pleasure - that one of the things about looking after a small child is you have to get up when you don't want to. I was nuzzling into Emma's breasts (as usual) when I heard Issy crying. Extracting myself into the cool morning air, I put my robe on and went in to see her.

"Issy need booby," which was her way of saying she wanted a feed. Not being AK, I took her with me downstairs and got one of the bottles left for her. As I put it to her hungry lips, she sucked and made contented noises; that made me smile.

I carried her back, as she sucked. I took her into bed with Emma and myself, and, once off the bottle, she snuggled into me, I snuggled into Emma, and we slept until the sunshine was beginning to peep in under the curtains. Emma looked at me, then Issy:

"Thanks for getting her love. She looks so peaceful."

"She's adorable. Do you suppose we can move without waking her?"

We essayed the experiment, and it worked. It was a wonderful beginning to a fortnight of Issy-bliss.

I had never thought of myself as having maternal instincts, but Issy pulled them from wherever they had been hiding. Emma seemed to me a natural. Issy adored her, and it was as though she remembered Emma had been ill and wanted to take care of her. It made my heart sing to see them together.

Our attempt to get together those we thought of a like mind before the Commission met in early October, was, well, a sign of what was to come.

We arranged an online meeting, and it was clear that while we all agreed that the Church should accept those like Emma and myself, we could not agree on either tactics or a strategy to get us all there.

Our American Episcopalian, Susie, was more or less openly incredulous:

"Your patriarchy just needs to get with it. We take on those living in the Dark Ages, and we beat them with facts!"

I sympathised, but as a tactic, that seemed unlikely to help us.

Canon Paula, my former tutor, was more measured, but along the same track:

"Good thinking Susie. We may have to tone down the rhetoric a tad, but we can't compromise. We need to persuade the Commission that the Church has to join the twenty-first century before it is too late."

The other young woman on the panel, Jenny, was less sure:

"Look, I agree with you both, but how is any of this going to win hearts and minds?"

Susie's response made us laugh:

"Grab 'em by the balls and the hearts and minds will follow!"

We went round and round. I felt a sense of despair. Susie's quip was funny, but not relevant. We could not grab them by anything. Maybe I am irredeemably "wet" (not in the usual sense I would apply to me when I am with Emma of AK), but it seemed to me that confrontation was what our opponents wanted; those with power on their side usually want a war. I didn't.

"Pixie, you have said nothing," Paula pointed out.

"Sorry, I was thinking. Look, how does this sound? Susie, I think you and Paula should make the case for the maximum we could want, the ideal, that might leave Jenny and I in a position to suggest some compromise when the other lot weigh in."

"Isn't that defeatist?" Susie asked.

"Could be," I admitted, "but if anyone has a better suggestion, I am in the market."

No one did.

As Mama and Gran were in Oxford for the start of the Academic Year (Gran was a Fellow of All Souls, it turned out), they invited me for tea at the Randolph.

When I went in, I found it hard to believe it was Mama. Being with Gran seemed to have softened her and smoothed away the rough edges. Over morning coffee, they discussed their own lives and asked whether we had heard from AK and Keith. I laughed and said just one text saying: "He is THE man!"

Mama smiled.

"I always liked AK. I should have seen something in the fact that she was your best friend and loved you. Well, never too late."

I gave her hand a squeeze.

Gran turned to discussing the Commission. He had heard, from me, and Canon Paula about the on-line session. He looked glum. I had to say that I was fresh out of ideas - but reminded him that if the Holy Spirit wanted it, we just had to have faith.

"That's where I envy you, Pixie. I can't quite get there."

They invited me to stay at their London house while the first session of the Commission met; that turned out to be a very good idea.

AK and Keith came back looking tanned and very happy, and Issy was so pleased to see them that it added a cherry on the icing on the cake. AK confirmed that it had been all she could have wanted. That made me happy. There is something in me that wants those I love to be happy and seeing AK like this did it for me.

We discussed how it would be when she was back at work. Issy would go to playgroup twice a week and to a child minder one day a week, all to help with her socialisation; I volunteered to do the other two days, to AK's evident pleasure.

"Issy so loves you, Squirt, you are a natural mum you know!"

I looked at her and smiled:

"That's you, Mama and Emma - if I did not know better, I'd say there was a conspiracy."

"No, Squirt, just an agreement of opinion."

The Commission had its first session in Church House in Westminster just before AK went back to work. There was an opening speech by the Prime Minister on Thursday night, followed by a reception. It was all very pleasant, but, as Gran said back at their house afterwards, it would be on the morrow that the opening shots would be fired.

The opening session on Friday was an address by the Archbishop of Canterbury who, in a masterpiece of trying to satisfy everyone, said that it was essential that the Church was not out of touch with the modern world, but also vital that we kept union within the communion, and were sensitive to the traditions both of our culture and of other cultures. As Gran said later, the one thing you could be sure he wanted was for it all to go away and leave him in peace: fat chance of that!

We had been put into "study groups" to deal with aspects of the problem, and I had been out into one on "Tradition," I presumed because of my work.

The chair was a Nigerian, whose bias was quite clear. He hardly looked in my direction, letting the two American Evangelicals have full rein. They, and their English counterpart put the traditional arguments with force. Susie was also in the group, replied with equal force, clearly irritating the chair, who barely concealed his contempt. When I was allowed in, it was pretty pointless, as I might as well have been speaking to the wall. I felt stale, flat, and pretty useless.

Over lunch, I sat with Canon Paula and a couple of Deans, but none of them reported anything better.

The afternoon was little better.

The plenary before the break-out groups was from Canon Paula, but that simply laid down a gauntlet which others picked up later to beat others with. By the final session I was, as I texted AK, "gloomy as hell."

The last session was one where they mixed the groups up, and there was a new American woman, Savannah, who must have been in her late twenties. Attractive in that way only America blondes can be, she was from an Evangelical church, and so counterbalanced Susie. But she surprised me.

"Chair, I just wanted to say," she said, looking at me, "that I read Pixie's book, and though I don't agree with her line on the main issue, she poses real questions."

The Nigerian Chair looked dismayed.

"She is just not in accord with God's wishes, and I am surprised at you Savannah!"

"Well, I am sorry, Chair but there we are."

It was the one bright spot.

As we circulated over drinks before dinner, Savannah came up to me.

"I liked your book, Pixie, I'd love a chance to talk to you. Are you staying at the hotel?"

"No, but I'd love to talk."

"Okay, look, after this is over, come to my room and we can talk."

We were bussed to the hotel where most of them were staying, and we dined there.

The food was not bad, and I texted Gran that I would be a bit later than planned. He said just to call for a cab whenever I wanted. One of the staff would be there to let me in.

I had a pleasant enough chat with two Synod members, but nothing that made me feel that this whole thing was going anywhere I would want to go.

Savannah came up to me as we were dispersing.

"Quick drink in my room?"

I nodded and went back with her.

"So," she said, once we were in, "nightcap?"

"I think one glass of wine was enough."

"Well, I don't drink alcohol, the Devil's brew, but I ain't judgemental about that. I was mighty interested in your book."

I thanked her.

I told her my thoughts about the first day. She nodded and said she agreed. Then, changing both tack and tone, she became almost confidential:

"Well, I am kind of beginning to change my views, somewhat."

I looked, and was, startled.

"What do you mean, Savannah?"

"Well, it's just, well, ya know?"

As I didn't, I said so.

"Well, reading your book, I never thought about it from the personal point of view. I was reared to think it was all kinda evil and taboo. But you are a nice woman, an your lady seems to be, so maybe I need to rethink?"

"Look," I said, excited by something positive," I'd be happy to chat further, but I have to go now."

She looked disappointed.

"I oughta be open with you Pixie."

"Yes?"

"Well, I never was with a woman, but lookin' at ya, I've been having thoughts."

I giggled.

"Thoughts are okay, Savannah. It's actions. Let's talk more tomorrow."

Going down in the lift I felt something was not quite right.

I phoned Emma and told her.

"A conquest, Pixie!"

"You know it's not like that for me, darling."

"I do my love but was just checking."

I phoned AK and told her.

"Hot date then, Squirt!"

By the time I got back to Little Venice, I was concerned.

Mama had gone to bed, as it was already ten o'clock, but Gran was up, working on his "red boxes" of Cabinet papers.

Over a hot chocolate for me, we discussed the day.

"Yes, I gathered from the two MPs I spoke to earlier that it was pretty sterile."

I told him about Savannah.

"What's worrying you, darling?"

"I am not sure Gran, but, well, would it be possible to do something before eight tomorrow night."

"By something you mean?"

He nodded.

"I mean."

"I know people who could help, Pixie. Do you think it necessary?"

"I'd feel better."

I slept poorly that night. Every instinct I had was sounding a warning bell.

The Saturday sessions were more relaxed, mostly study groups followed in the afternoon by break out groups. I spotted Savannah at lunch, who gave me the thumbs up.

We sat next to each other at supper, but the chat was superficial. It was only in the lift back to her room that its tone changed.

"Pixie, I am sorry if I upset you?'

"You didn't, it's okay."

Back in her room, she made us both a pot of tea.

Sitting in one of the two armchairs, she sighed.

"What's up?" I asked.

"I realised Pixie I have no idea what I am talking about!"

"In what way?"

"It's like giving an opinion on a meal without ever eating it."

"Really?"

"Yeah," she said, and her legs parted. I could see up to her white thong, which seemed wedged between her meaty lips.

"Yeah. Maybe if I knew what it felt like to be with another woman. Do you find me attractive, Pixie?" As she spoke, she shifted so her skirt rose up. She could see where I was looking.

"Are you looking up my skirt, Pixie? Do I attract you?"

"I thought we were here to talk?"

"Oh, we can do that, but you want me, don't you?"

As she said that, her hand slid towards her pussy.

"Come on Pixie, I am happy for you to show me what it is like. Your conversion therapy is just what I need."

"I am leaving," I told her.

"Oh, I wouldn't," she said.

"Why not?"

"Let me just say this is on film now, so you might as well eat me out, at least get something out of this evening."

"What do you mean?"

"Put it this way, Pixie, this will be all over the papers in the morning, so why not get something."

"Oh, I did. Come in!"

So saying, I went to the door and opened it.

Savannah adjusted her dress.

"What the fuck!"

"Meet Jim. He also filmed this encounter, Savannah. The difference is that his will be unedited and include what you would have left out."

"You bitch!"

I looked at her.

"If you tell me who put you up to this, it may go easier with you. If you don't, then you will be hearing from the Metropolitan police in the morning."

Savannah looked at me, furious.

"Jim," I said, "it is okay now. Tell our mutual friend thanks."

"Will do, Miss!"

"So," I said, looking at her.

"How did you know?"

"It, you, didn't feel right."

"In what ways?"

"I am not going there. You tell me who put you up to it."

"Well, my pastor is a good friend of your Mr Bartlett. He told me that sometimes we have to shame the devil and tempt him. Mr B reckoned that all you depraved lesbos were just a preyin' on girls like me, so I was to show the world he was right."

I was so glad Jim was still recording this.

"Okay, Savannah. I will ask for clemency, but you best tell your pastor that this is not going to be the end of it."

With that I turned and left.

A few minutes later Savannah left the room and caught a cab.

While she was out, Jim dismantled the surveillance equipment.

I got back to Little Venice where Mama and Gran were wide awake.

"Well done, Pixie!" Mama said.

"Indeed," said Gran, "glad Jim was helpful. You might like to know that a certain mid-market tabloid which loves you already, has just been told that the story for which it was holding the front page is not coming." He smiled broadly. "Your instinct was right."

"Well," I said, what do you think of my suggestion we leak it to your friend at the "Sunday Times"?

If we just leak the recording, they could have come from your phone."

"Well, actually," I said, handing over my phone, "that is where this will come from."

While Gran did the business, I phoned Emma and then AK, telling them the news. Their reactions were characteristic. Emma was shocked that anyone would be that wicked, AK asked if she was "fuckable."

I slept poorly, and Gran send out for the early editions of the papers, which meant we got them before Mattins. The "Sunday Times" ran with it as a headline.

"Attempt to sabotage Church Commission: 'you depraved lesbos are all the same.' full story pages six and seven," complete with a photo of me.

By the time we were back from Mattins, some of the later editions also had the story, and Emma phoned to say journalists had been phoning the house. Naturally, someone discovered where I was, and before long we were besieged.

Gran, who had been on the phone from the moment we go back, said that the BBC were sending a car, they wanted me on their main Sunday morning talk show - and on their Sunday religious programme.

As I left the house, there was a scrum of journalists.

"Any comments, Pixie?"

"Wait and see!"

At the studio, I went straight into make-up and found myself second item on the programme.

"Miss Hoff," the interviewer began, "some of our viewers will know you from last year's 'baby dyke' scandal. What can you tell us about this story in the 'Sunday Times'?"

I told him, as briefly as I could, what had happened.

"And do you know who was behind this amazing attempt?"

"I do, and so do the police. The point is simple, these people have swallowed their own Kool-Aid. They think lesbians are predatory, they can't see we are just normal women who happen to love other women. This attempt shows they are bankrupt of ideas."

I only had fifteen minutes, but Gran, who phoned me the moment I was out, said it went very well.

I did the Religious Affairs programme immediately afterwards where, to my delight, the failures of the first two days of the Commission was pushed aside in favour of the juicier news.

By the time the BBC car got me back to Little Venice, the journalists had more or less dispersed, but when I got in, Gran said that he'd invited a sympathetic one in to interview me.

Exhausted as I was, I did the interview, which appeared in the Monday papers. As Gran said, "strike while the iron is hot."

"And I have a surprise for you, Pixie. Come on in Emma!"

Bless him, he'd sent a car for my Emma.

It was such bliss to have her with me, and as Monday was her day off, it meant she could spend some time with me, as well as get to know Mama and Gran a little.

As we retired after a pleasant evening, I told Emma that I was surprised but delighted that she could make it.

"My love, after what happened to you, I just wanted to be here for you."

I snuggled into her.

"Were you tempted, Pixie?"

"By Savannah? No."

"But she looks pretty gorgeous. I don't have her figure and could do with losing a few pounds."

"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked her, rolling her over so I could like on top of her.

"Well, I thought you might have wanted her."

"I want you, Emma."

And I did.

I wanted the comfort of her love, and the familiarity of her body. Maybe it was because I had no experience of it, but the idea of casual sex and one-night stands made no appeal to me. I needed some connection deeper than my libido, which, truth to tell, could be like a radio signal in the mountains, fading in and out. But with my Emma, I only had to lean into her, smell the scent of her, look into her eyes, and kiss her to want more intimacy. It was that intimacy which made our love-making special.

Kissing her, looking into her eyes, I dismissed her comments.

"It's YOU I love, silly, and as it happens, I have a thing for older ladies with curves, especially if they are called Emma," I said, kissing her neck, before kissing and licking down towards her breasts.

"I better make sure I keep you away from other Emmas," she joked, before moaning as my lips sucked on her puckered nipples. Slowly, I moved my tongue around her areola, massaging and fondling her soft breasts as I teased them. As she squirmed, I sucked a little harder. I loved the feel of her nipples in my mouth.

Then I continued my exploration. My hands still on her breasts, tweaking her nipples, my mouth moved down, slowly, lingering on her tummy, before reaching her trimmed bush. Then, well a girl can only do so much teasing of her lover (and herself) and I suddenly wanted her.

Sliding my hands down, she arched her back so I could grip her arse. I had intended to tease, but the urgency overcame me. I plunged my face into her wetness, I needed to feel her juices on me. I lapped up her nectar, greedily drinking as a woman in the desert coming across an oasis. Greedily, my tongue licked, pushing deeper, my nose rubbing against her clit. I pulled her close. She gripped my hair as she moaned.

I wanted her so badly. Her reaction to my urgency was such a turn on that I intensified my frenzy. Her wetness coated my tongue, and as it slid up, she pressed herself into my face. I knew what she wanted and flicked her clit.

"Oh Pixie!"

Her moaning told me all I needed to know, and I sucked, sliding three fingers in, fast and deep. I felt her clench. I felt myself begin to lose it and, as she came hard, I felt my own orgasm overcome me.

I had wanted her as much as she had wanted me. Love made it perfect.