By the time I reached the address, I had already checked the number on my phone more times than I could count. There was something strangely intimate about walking towards the home of someone I barely knew. The evening air was cool against my face, the streets quieting as daylight faded, and warm lights glowed behind the windows of ordinary homes. Yet my own evening felt anything but ordinary.
I kept thinking about the name. Lola.
It had all started with a book in the library. I had been browsing the shelves when I noticed the title Same Sex Relationships and Navigation of Feelings. I’d reached for it at exactly the same time as him. Our hands touched the cover and, after an awkward smile, he took the book. “You take it,” I’d said, letting him have it. I thought that was the end of our brief encounter.
As I was leaving, however, he caught up with me and held the book out. “I think this belongs with you,” he said with a smile. I took it, thanked him and went home. Later that evening, when I opened it, I found a small scrap of paper tucked between the pages. There was a telephone number written on it, with one word scribbled above it.
Lola.
I stared at it for a long time before finally texting the number. I told myself it was curiosity, but deep down I knew there was more to it. I’d been having thoughts about men for some time, quiet thoughts that I rarely allowed myself to examine. Somehow, that book had made them harder to ignore, and now this stranger had given me a reason to explore them.
Standing outside his house, I felt my heart beating faster. It wasn’t fear. If anything, there was an excitement building inside me. I wondered what he would look like when he opened the door. I wondered whether he would simply be the same man I’d met in the library, or whether Lola was another side of him entirely.
I knocked.
For a few seconds there was silence, then I heard footsteps approaching. My pulse quickened as the door opened.
There he was.
The man from the library.
Except now I understood the name Lola.
He stood before me dressed in black fishnets and striking red high heels, a pleated black PVC skirt with a red trim sitting above smooth legs. Black suspenders framed his outfit, while a matching PVC bra was filled with carefully shaped silicone breasts. A blonde wig fell perfectly around his face, and his makeup was immaculate, so professionally done that every detail seemed carefully considered.
I found myself smiling rather than staring in disbelief. I was fascinated. There was something incredibly exciting about seeing this completely different side of the person I’d met amongst the library shelves. He looked confident, yet there was a hint of nervousness behind his smile.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi, Lola.”
His smile grew.
“Come in.”
I stepped through the doorway, and as the door closed behind me, I realised the nervousness I’d felt on the journey hadn’t disappeared. It had simply changed into something else. Anticipation. Curiosity. Excitement.
And perhaps something I wasn’t quite ready to give a name to yet. |
