Alex and Sandra's Teatime
“Alex and Sandra?” said Dimpy, trying not to show surprise. Sandra was a tall, red-haired girl, big-boobed and round-faced, with light freckles. Alex was also tall, blonde-haired, with smaller boobs, and a slimmer face and body. Alex was Alexandra. For the first time since she’d started this job, Dimpy was interviewing two women.
Lucerne’s part-time Registrar of Weddings was all for same-sex marriage. Why shouldn’t two people who loved each other be able to join together and create a stable home? God knows that her different-sex marriage had failed.
It wasn’t about gender, it was about adoration. It was simple really – if you adored each other, then things worked out.
Dimpy had admired her husband, liked him, maybe loved him, but had not adored him. When problems started, that was it.
She chatted to Alex and Sandra together, and then sent Sandra out. It was time to grill them one by one, to see if their union was genuine and not some kind of sham.
“When did you meet?” asked Dimpy, fixing her with a stare.
“Online. It was Arcadian Personals.” So she was looking nationally, not just locally. That showed determination.
“Please tell me about your first date.”
“We met for teatime,” said Alex, a little awkwardly. Dimpy hadn’t noticed her green eyes before, how they were flecked with gold. “Lunch is always a rush, you have to get from work to the restaurant, and then back to work. I find that dinner can either be too formal, or a drunken wasted night. There’s always sexual tension, wondering if you should make a move, and if so, how, and when, and whether you’ll regret it.”
She must have had some fun dates, thought Dimpy. Lucky girl.
“At teatime you can just be yourself. There’s no rush, you sit and wait patiently for flavours to infuse. You are participating in a ritual going back thousands of years. It’s different with different cultures of course. English like milk and sugar, Indians use pepper and cardamom, Chinese let the tealeaves unfurl, Japanese admire the cup and teahouse and recite poetry, Russians top up the samovar and sing.”
Dimpy couldn’t help nodding along. She loved teatime too, and hadn’t realized there were so many variations.
Alex continued, the colours of her eyes seeming to swirl and fuse. “So we met up at the Lucerne Valley Hotel for tea. Sandra ordered a Lapsang Souchong that smelled so heady I almost fainted, and I had a Bengali Chai with chilli and ginger. It was delicious.” She looked at Dimpy and said, “Things got hotter after that.”
“What about your second date?” said Dimpy. “Did you manage to have a nice lunch or dinner?”
“It was another teatime.” She beamed at Dimpy. “But this time I was making her morning cuppa.”
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