Turning the girl

I went to a party the other day.
As a party it was a failure because nobody turned up except, that is, for the hosts and an unusual couple. One was a fat guy with a shaved head, the other an attractive woman with nice breasts.
Did I mention that she was a lesbian? Well she was, apparently, gay as they come and yet it still came as quite a surprise to me when I found out that she wasn't actually going out with the fat boy on the couch next to her.
Well, as the night went on, the girl and I drank and ate and grew warmer towards each other. We sang songs on a karaoke machine. It was fun; we duetted, we duelled.
She pulled me up and demanded I dance with her. She wanted us both to spin round in a certain way. I wanted to grab her and waltz. We did both.
Later, in the kitchen, that male friend of hers was trying to flirt with her as he had surely tried every day since he met her, thinking: "one day, one day I'll turn her!"
But she picked me out again, came close and whispered how we were the best singers in the room, and how we both knew it. I agreed, though I hadn't paid much attention to her voice.
She came to me again, complimenting me on my singing, asking after a band she'd heard I was in. I said I just did a bit of backing vocals - nothing much. At this she scorned me, complimented, castigated and cajoled me. Sought me to go further, to do more, to fight my way to the front and really perform.
She asked me to show confidence. How she knew I lacked this I'm not sure. I mean, I showed no reticence at singing in front of these strangers earlier.
"And no drinking!" she exclaimed. Dutch courage, it seemed, was not a part of her plans.
Yet all I was thinking was how close she came, how she touched me, how she regarded me. Like there was no-one else in the room.
Ah, I see, you say she was drunk - and so she was. Of course, you're right! That's all it was.
She asked me if we could sing one more song together - Unchained Melody. We didn't need to read the prompting words, we simply looked and sang into each other's eyes. It was beautiful and we were rightly applauded.
When it was time for me to leave, I said my goodbyes and sought her out. She was in the garden, smoking. I said goodbye to her, bent to her face and kissed her slowly, gently, on the lips. She smiled, told me I'd be famous when next we met.
I left the house thinking: one day, one day I'll turn her.

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If you enjoyed the tale, have a look at this one: Silver.