While I'm still in town the next day, Diana rings me on my mobile to ask where I am. I tell her I'm about to go into the small supermarket in the town centre. She tells me to stay where I am because she's not far, and she comes to meet me, striding up to where I'm standing slightly awkwardly at the entrance, balancing a couple of bags between my feet. She's got in the way of my shopping and I'm not nearly ready to go round to hers – my stuff's all at home, for a start – but it still feels good to see her walking towards me. Or just to see her, actually.

'Hello, Fiona.' She runs a hand through her hair as she stops in front of me. Her eyes flick over my t-shirt and old jeans. I feel scruffy. She's in a pair of smart jeans and a soft collared shirt, and she looks good.

'Hi, Diana. I haven't finished what I need to get done, you know?'

She waves airily. 'There's a few things I need, too. I thought we could keep each other company.' She nods at the supermarket, and we start to move inside. 'Anyway, I realised you don't know where the flat is.'

We get a trolley to share, and start to wander up and down the aisles. I gather all the remaining ingredients I need for Toby's cake, and she adds some things for breakfast tomorrow as well as some things for the rest of the week, then she asks, 'What shall we have for dinner?'

'I don't know, I haven't really thought about it. What are we doing this afternoon?'

She shrugs. 'We haven't planned this very well, have we?' She stands at the end of an aisle and runs her hand through her hair again, looking a bit at a loss.

I nudge her gently out of the way of a young mum with two fractious kids, who is trying to get past. I like the way our hands touch on the handle of the trolley, and for a moment my body presses lightly against hers. 'Shall I cook? Before we go out later? We don't need to do much this afternoon, just go for a walk for a bit or something. It's a nice day...'

She grins at me. 'I was hoping you'd cook, Fiona. I know that's rude of me to expect it, but...'

I smile. 'I don't mind. I'm not doing anything major, though. Quick and simple, especially if we're going out.' I look at her and realise she's relived not to have had to ask me outright to cook that night. I like the way she's embarrassed at expecting me to cook but had characteristically assumed that that's what would happen anyway. I know she'd have asked me if she had to, and I'd have ended up cooking anyway, even on my first visit to her flat. I also like the way that she is obviously out of her depth in a supermarket on a Saturday lunchtime, as I move her out of someone else's way again. How very like Diana, I think, as a wave of affection for her washes my insides. 'You are silly,' I say, nudging my elbow gently into her side.

She glances at me sharply for a second, before she realises I mean it in a nice way. It pleases me to suddenly realise that I'm probably one of the few people who could get away with saying something like that to her. Then again, I've already said much worse to her. I jerk my head towards the fresh food aisles. 'Come on, let's see what inspires us.'

I get some nice ham and a bag of mixed mushrooms, an onion, some salad. I've already got eggs, because of the cake. She wanders off to find some crusty bread, and comes back grinning like a child. 'I love the smell of fresh bread,' she says, holding the baguette out to me before she puts it on the trolley. She bends down and sniffs at it quickly. 'Mmmm. I'm looking forward to this.'

'It's only going to be omelettes. Nothing special.' I smile as she looks at me as if to say it'll still be something special to her. I like the feeling that gives me. I check the contents of the trolley. 'OK, well, I think we've pretty much got everything. Do we want some wine to go with our tea?'

'Oh, I think so. A nice crisp white. Just to get us in the mood for the band.'

She wanders up and down the alcohol aisle, pulling bottles off here and there and contemplating the labels. Eventually, she picks two whites and a red and adds them to the trolley. At the checkout, I expect we'll divide up the shopping and pay separately, but Diana brushes past me where I'm unloading the trolley onto the rolling strip and digs her purse out of her pocket. I try to hide my pleasure at the feel of her hands so briefly on my hips as she moves past me – the brush of her crotch across my bum is pretty nice too. When I start to protest about her attempt to pay for it all, she grins. 'Be quiet, Fiona. Make yourself useful and pack the shopping, or something.'

The woman on the checkout looks at us, wondering what sort of relationship we actually have. I shrug awkwardly and smile as I fiddle a carrier bag open between my fingers. She glances back to see Diana grinning at us both. I nod at my handbag and say, 'Well, at least find my reward card, in my purse. We don't want to miss out on the points.' It feels quite nice to be bickering good-naturedly at the checkout, like a couple. We look too dissimilar to ever pass as mother and daughter, even if she could have had me quite young. Aunt and niece, perhaps, or friends? And I just said, 'we', I realise, as if we even share supermarket reward points as a matter of course. I smile at the checkout assistant and decide not to care for now what she thinks about our relationship.

I pack the shopping and Diana pays. It's not how I expected things to go this morning, but it doesn't feel uncomfortable. I finish the packing and wait for her to stuff her purse back in her jeans. I gently take my reward card from her and shove it back in my handbag.

We take a couple of bags each and wander back out into the sunshine. 'Have you had lunch?' she asks.

'No, I had a late breakfast. Have you?'

'Same.' She pauses. 'So, shall we take this back to my flat then do something more fun?'

I'm about to say that shopping is fun, but stop myself. I can imagine that she doesn't enjoy food shopping in the same way as I do. I was hoping to get a little bit of browsing the clothes shops in as well, but I would find it hard to justify buying nice but unnecessary stuff (especially shoes) to Diana, and I suspect she might have a bit of a problem with just looking. Then I feel a little flutter of excitement as I think about her question. She wants to do something “fun”. Is she coming on to me? I look at her face, to try and see if I can tell, but she's just waiting for my reply with a faint grin. I think that, if we are going to have “fun”, I would've wanted to look a bit less scruffy, but there's not a lot I can do about that now. 'I do need to go and get some stuff from home at some point. Like, a change of clothes for later, and so on.'

She raises an eyebrow. 'All right. Still, let's get this back to mine first, shall we?'

'I thought you said you had things to do in town.'

'That was it, I've done it. I just couldn't wait to see you, really.'

She appears to be completely serious. I feel real pleasure inside that she's so frank about her feelings for me. 'You are silly,' I say again, but softly and with a smile so she knows I like it.

***

Her flat isn't far. It's one of two on the top (fifth) floor of a new block overlooking a pretty stretch of the canal. The hall carpet is soft under my bare feet after I slip my sandals off at the front door. I notice Diana glance down at my feet, and I'm glad I painted my nails. Her eyes flick to my fingernails, to check the colours match, then she looks at my face. Her gaze lingers on my lips for a second, and I get the feeling she's a little bit aroused. I like that feeling. She blinks and moves behind me to shut the front door, her arm just brushing my back and bum. She moves back. 'Through here,' she says, walking into the main living area. 'I'll give you the tour in a minute.' I follow her. The flat is not quite how I imagined, but it is big and light and airy and uncluttered.

The main space is a huge living area and kitchen combined, with large windows around two sides of the living room bit, giving a great view over the town and the canal. Diana takes the bags out of my fingers so I can wander over and stare out. There's a pair of French windows on one of the sides, giving access to a wide balcony. She has some carefully-tended potted plants on it, and a table and two chairs.

The kitchen is partitioned off somewhat by a stretch of wall. But mainly a large island dominates the space, with the work surfaces around the walls. The oven looks fantastic, there's a large fridge-freezer and loads of cupboard space. She was right – it is much more spacious than mine. I wander back over and join her in unpacking the bags. 'I love this kitchen,' I say admiringly as I hand her the ham and eggs to put in the fridge.

'Treat it as your own,' she replies. She slides the bottles of white into the fridge as well, then turns to fold up the empty carrier bags. Suddenly jobless, I stand leaning on the island and put my hands in my back pockets, unsure what to do next. One of my feet rests on top of the other, and I like the way Diana runs her eyes up my bent leg and the shape of my body in my t-shirt, then back down again to my feet. I wonder suddenly if she has a thing for feet. She blinks again, then nods over at the French windows. 'Make yourself useful, Fiona, and open the windows for a bit. It could do with some fresh air in here.' I head towards them and she adds, 'The key's on top of the speakers. To the right, there.' I glance back and am fairly sure I catch her checking my bum out in my jeans. (It wouldn't be the first time.)

I expect it to be noisier with the doors open, but I suppose that being five floors up helps to dampen the sound a bit. Also, this side of the building is away from the road, backing straight on to the canal. Diana's balcony is fully half the length of the back of the building, with a partition to the right, behind which I assume the other flat on this floor has the same. I step out and lean over the balcony slightly to look down at the still water and the trees lining the towpath. I wonder if I should wave at the old man walking his dog, then realise he probably wouldn't see me, or care much anyway.

I hear Diana step outside behind me, but I stay still, and she joins me in leaning on the rail. I hoped she would, because since walking back from the supermarket, I've been very conscious of the fact that her flat is one of the very few places where we can be fully and completely ourselves. No strangers to see us, no colleagues or housemate to interrupt, and she has definitely been looking at me with open interest, ever since we got back here. I want to feel her touch me, like normal couples touch. Our arms lie against each other on the rail of the balcony. I hold my breath and we're both very still for a moment, but she doesn't make a move to get any closer. 'This is very nice,' I say. 'Quieter than I'd have thought.'

'It is.' She nods at the sky. 'The canal's pretty peaceful, really. And this side gets the sun all afternoon and evening on a day like this.' I notice that the table and chairs are well positioned to make the most of any sunshine.

I have to admit, I'm impressed. I come from a reasonably comfortable background, but I have a feeling Diana's flat is a good example of a whole life which is confidently and quietly really rather expensive. I lean into her a little and grin up at her. I like the way my breast just presses against her arm, and I press slightly harder. I feel my nipples start to stiffen in my bra, and breathe in the nice smell of her quickly. 'If I work hard, all this could be mine too, eh? Or something like it, anyway.'

She shrugs. 'That's up to you, I suppose, Fiona.' She looks at me curiously for a moment, and I wonder what she's thinking. I hope she will move closer and hold me, I suddenly really want her to hold me. But she glances at my lips, blinks again and then she asks, 'Shall I show you the rest?' She starts to move back inside.

***

The rest of the flat consists of the en suite main bedroom and a spare room, almost as large and also en suite, and a study. The bedrooms are tidy. The spare looks as if it's barely ever used, although the bed is made and there's a bathtowel folded on top of it, but the study definitely looks as if it's used regularly – even if everything in there is neat and tidy too.

Back in the kitchen, Diana puts the kettle on, and we take our mugs out to sit on the balcony. The sun is warm, and I gather my hair up into a rough twist on my head and hold it in place with my hand, feeling a bit silly when I realise I haven't got anything more permanent to hold it in place. Diana watches me, and I let it drop back with a sigh. 'I've got a scrunchie in my bag, I think...'

I start to get up, to fetch my bag, but Diana's chair is nearer the open French windows. She rests a hand gently on my leg, and her hand is warm through my jeans. I like that feeling, too. 'I'll get it.' Her fingers linger on my leg as she stand up, and I begin to tingle inside. She's touched my leg before, of course, loads of times now, but this feels different. I watch her as she walks back into the flat and like how she looks so good in her casual but nice-quality jeans and shirt. I like the shape of her in her jeans, too. I wriggle my shoulders comfortably in the chair and sigh with pleasure at the thought of what Diana and I have yet to come in our relationship.

She returns with my bag, and I rummage through it for a scrunchie. While I put my hair up again, she takes the bag gently off my lap and puts it on the table, which entails her leaning slightly across me. I move my leg so it deliberately presses up against hers. She pushes back, and I rest my foot on a bit of the table leg, which slightly bends my knee, pressing it against the front of her thighs. I move my leg a bit and feel my knee just touch the crotch of her jeans. I hold my breath, and I think she does too, and for a moment she presses herself onto my knee. Even through my jeans and hers, I can feel she is warm there.

When she moves back, her hand drops to rest on my knee. The same knee. I start to tingle inside. She sits back down in her chair and I move my leg towards her, to make it easier for her to keep her hand on it. She stares at me for a long moment, stroking my knee, and I wonder if we're going to kiss. I want to kiss, and I'm happy to see where it leads. I hold her gaze and lean forward a bit. She reaches up with her spare hand and runs her thumb over my cheek, sliding her fingers onto the now exposed back of my neck. I close my eyes and sigh into her mouth as her lips find mine.

***

Kissing on balcony chairs is almost as awkward as kissing on office chairs, so we don't spend long doing it. It's a great kiss, though, and through it I can feel that Diana is as aroused as I am. When she moves back, I ask, 'Should we go inside?' I find her hand on my leg with mine and stroke the back of it, and her wrist.

For a moment, she lets me move her hand onto the inside of my thigh, then she reluctantly takes it away. 'I think we should go to yours and get your stuff. Then we'll have the rest of the afternoon.'

The walk to mine takes about twenty minutes. Paula is sitting in the sun in the back yard and Diana chats to her through the open back door while I show her utensils I think I'll need and ask her if she already has them at hers. She says she has everything, so all I need to get together is my stuff for staying at the flat. I lean across Diana in the back doorway. 'I'm going back to Diana's after the gig tonight, Paula.' Diana hasn't moved from leaning on the door frame, so we're pressed together. Between us, her arm is resting up against my hip and thigh, and my breasts are brushing just below hers. It's very exciting. 'I'll be there most of tomorrow too, I've got this cake to make. So you and Martin can come back here for a change, tonight.'

'OK, nice one. Thanks.'

I move back into the kitchen and say to Diana, 'Right, just my stuff from upstairs now.' I jerk my head as if to invite her along, and start to move upstairs. She waves a goodbye to Paula, who calls out that she'll see us later, and Diana follows me up to my room.

She sits on the bed, while I find my big shoulder bag and chuck my hairbrush and make-up stuff into it. She watches me as I stand in front of the open wardrobe and hum-and-hah about what to wear to the gig. 'It's going to be warm in that pub tonight, isn't it?' I muse. 'After a nice day like this.'

'Very likely, yes.' She watches me pull out a skirt then return it and take down a light dress instead. It's nothing very special, just a casual short-sleeved blue dress with a design of yellow and white flowers, about mid-thigh, with a v-neck and slightly pinched waist. It looks good with practically any shoes, so I dig out a pair of sandals with a slight heel that are cute but not too bad for standing around in. The dress and the shoes go in the bag with my denim jacket, and I add a nice pair of grey jeans and a black top for tomorrow. Diana reaches over and catches my arm gently. 'Uh, Fiona?'

I stop heading towards my side table for some accessories and come to stand in front of her. She moves her hand down my arm to hold mine and takes my other one too. I lean down and kiss her, but I can feel she has something she needs to say, so after a minute or two I draw back and keep quiet.

'About tonight. Afterwards, I mean.' She looks at our hands and strokes my fingers. 'I, er, don't know what you're expecting...' I stay quiet, because she seems to want to go on. 'I've made up the spare room for you, just in case. I don't...I mean, I'm not expecting anything. From you, I mean. By asking you to stay over.'

I lean in and kiss her quickly. 'OK. That's sweet.' I squeeze her hands. 'Why don't we see how it goes?' I don't know what'll happen either, but I'm sure that Diana and I can work it out, whatever happens. We feel so close, so much more connected now. 'It'll happen when the time's right.'

She kisses me back, moving one hand to stroke the back of my neck again. For a moment or two, the kiss is eager, edged with lust, but we break it. 'Yes,' she says softly. She looks at me seriously for a moment, and there is relief in her eyes, I think. She nods. 'Yes. When the time's right. It will all be fine.'

***

In the afternoon, we go for a walk along the towpath of the canal, before having an early dinner and sharing a bottle of white in the evening sunshine on the balcony before it's time to go to the gig. When I emerge from getting ready in the spare room, she gives me an openly approving look and spends a few long seconds running her eyes over the curve of my body in the dress, and my bare legs. I've kept my hair up, but done it properly this time. 'I like your hair like that,' she comments, before blatantly checking my legs out again.

As we make our slightly tipsy way back from the gig later, arm-in-arm, she leans in and says softly, 'I do wish I could touch you, Fiona. Hold you like I want to, like a normal couple.' Paula and Martin were particularly loved-up tonight, maybe at the prospect of having the house to themselves, and I suspect Diana's feeling a little envious. 'I want to hold your hand,' she says wistfully.

It's still fairly early, because we left as soon as the band had finished. 'There is somewhere we could go, where we can hold hands.'

So we walk to the gay pub and Diana discovers a side to the town she never knew existed. The pub is pretty lively with drinkers, but there's not much dancing going on because it's been such a warm evening. After I've got us a drink, we sit squashed together on a bank of seating at the end of a table, and hold hands openly while we talk. It feels good to sit so close to her, feel her body against me. She's leaning back on the seat, and the lack of space means that I have to lean against her shoulder. She has her arm round me and her thigh pressed firmly under mine where I've crossed my legs. When we talk, our mouths brush each other's cheeks and her hair tickles my nose and I can breathe in the smell of her. She occasionally brushes her nose and lips over my hair, breathing in as she does, and every time she does that I get a little thrill inside. My nipples are beginning to ache and there is a knot of desire in my tummy and I am warm between my crossed legs. I keep brushing her breasts with my shoulder, hoping that it's as exciting for her as it is for me and thinking how much I want to feel her hands on me at that moment.

Her spare hand, however, is holding mine and we rest our clasped hands on my crossed knee, and it's a little bit distracting – in a nice way – to feel her finger occasionally stroke the bare skin of my leg below the hem of my dress. I don't think she quite realises she's doing it, or how subtly arousing it is for me.

In a lull in our conversation, I move my head a little and run my lips over her neck. It feels so lovely, that I also find I slightly move my leg under her hand. In the movement, she touches the hem of my dress by accident, and ripples of pleasure travel through me as her fingers slide over the bare skin of my thigh. Instinctively, I sigh happily into her hair and kiss her neck softly. She carefully takes her hand away from mine and slowly, once, strokes the inside of my thigh, making me sigh into her neck again. She moves her head and I feel more ripples of pleasure as her lips brush my ear. 'Well, this is a good place to know about, Fiona. But I think we should go.'

We drink up quickly. On our way out, we bump into Petra, who's being dragged towards some seating by another girl about her own age. She hugs both me and Diana and says, drunkenly, 'You two together at last, then? Good. About time.'

Diana moves closer and slides her arm around my waist to hold me to her, and I almost melt with pleasure. 'Thanks to you, partly', she says to Petra. I wriggle back against Diana a little and enjoy the feel of her breasts on my shoulders. Her other hand slides briefly down the side of my dress, over my hip, and over the curve of my bum.

Petra grins. 'I'm so glad. You guys should so be together....oops...' She stumbles as her friend tries to pull her away again. 'Ok, gotta go. Have fun.' She cackles dirtily and disappears off with the other girl.

Diana and I emerge into the night and head back to her flat.