IMG_5981.jpgIt’s been  years since I last saw Rick. He moved to Boston soon after I graduated high school. So much has happened since I left home. Between college and now, with the internship and all that comes with living in the the adult world, I feel disconnected from these memories. At least enough to recount them. It’s like turning the pages of a once beloved book. One I thought I had forgotten about.

Feeling nostalgic is all I can say to account for looking him up. I’m not going to wonder any deeper than that. It would be silly to imagine it has anything to do with Jeremy. No, that’s got nothing to do with it. But this feels good, catching up like this.

I’m grateful he avoids the stale and familiar topics of work and family. Our conversation winnows its way toward a shared wavelength. We enter a new and spacious, uncharted territory. Even our silence is heavy with portent.

He studies my face, making my insides squirm with delight and with anticipation. I want to tell him about that night. I want to share a secret. Watch his eyes shimmer with realization. The burn of arousal evident in the expression sure to follow. He said he wanted to know, after all.

“Remember that night after Dad’s birthday party when the grownups had so much to drink and you ended up staying over?”

“How could I forget? My hangover seemed to last for days.” He laughs out loud, shaking his head at the memory.

I continue, in a low voice, staring hard at the bits of ice and lime pulp floating in my glass– fixated on the memory, so long ago and yet now so fresh in my mind.

“I couldn’t sleep that night, imagining you there, alone in the guest room right down the hall.”

“Yes, that’s right. I was at the party alone that night. Wow, you are really taking me back. You must have only been about fourteen.”

“Fifteen. I even tiptoed to the door and cracked it open. I stood there, watching you sleep, listening to the sound of your breath. I even imagined crawling into bed beside you…what you would say, what you would do if I touched you.”

I feel my cheeks start to burn with my revelation. “Is it warm in here?” I wince at my cliche, but I can’t look at him now. I have to finish the story.

He places his hand on the back of my neck. It feels cooling against my warm skin. He begins to slowly rub the nape with smooth fingertips, tracing tiny circles into my flesh. I loll my head back in the booth, against the tall mirrored wall, with eyes closed, losing myself in the memory of that night.

“I couldn’t bring myself to touch you, but I remember wanting you to wake up and see me standing there.”

“What did you imagine would happen next?” He purrs, sweet and heavy next to my ear.

“We wouldn’t speak–but you would understand the look in my eyes, what I was there for. In the silence, you would watch me peel my nightie off over my head and stand there waiting for you to turn back the covers and invite me in.”

“Didn’t you worry that someone would discover us together in the guest room?”

“Not at all. I remember clearly that I wanted you so badly that night that I didn’t care about the consequences. I just couldn’t bring myself to wake you. I lost my nerve.”

“What did you want to do with me?”  He asks.

I roll my head over and look directly at him now. He is wearing an amused smile.

I know for sure, but I can’t say it. That I wanted him to kiss me for hours. I wanted to feel his warm tongue wet my mouth, my  breasts. I wanted to feel his big hands on my small body, bringing me closer to him. I wanted to discover the straining press of his hardness against my white cotton panties as I straddled him, rocking my pelvis against his. How these thoughts tortured my nights lying in my own bed alone and throbbing with desire.

“At the time, I wasn’t exactly sure, I just knew that you would show me what it was like to be with a real man.”

“How does this make you feel…talking about this with me?” He strokes my hair fondly, shifting his body a little closer as my voice becomes a whisper.

“A little bit weird, but it feels good. I’ve never told anyone…”

“That’s understandable. Is there more?”

“So much more…”

To be continued…

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