March 12, 2010
I kissed a boy. And I liked it.A lot.
I'm not sure if it qualifies as an aberration or not and, quite frankly, I don't care. I deserved every single last second of that tasty treat. I bear the scars of red lips and a chapped chin with pride for it's been too long. I've been deprived of that kind of passion for over four years (!) and there's only so much patience one can squeeze out of their soul. That's right, folks, I earned this kiss.
It just sort of happened.
I was in the middle of nowhere, house sitting, when I decided it was time for a drink. 10pm on a Saturday night. I hit the nearest gas station, bought a pack of cigarettes (*gasp*) and inquired as to the location of the closest watering hole. It was just a little jab on the edge of a field -- the kinda place that looks more like someone's home from the outside than a bar. I sat by myself, quite content, in the middle of the chaos. Apparently I was the only sober one of the bunch. Then this guy walked in.
We ended up babbling away the evening and somehow the conversation got into what we each of us wanted most in life. Of all the things I could have said, I told him about my latest obsession of getting one really good kiss. He didn't quite get it and I didn't really feel like explaining the whole thing (previously shacked up with a non-kisser, smashed face on pier which required four new teeth, not wanting to start something I can't finish). But we went on, laughing and listening to good tunes, completely comfortable and that's when I saw it in his eyes. Ya know, that look that someone gives you when they're trying not to notice your lips, especially after you've just been talking about 'em. They're trying not to think of how juicy and inviting they are. They're trying not to imagine the softness and the warmth. They're trying not to devour you while you speak.
I let it go thinking he wasn't going to be that bold.
But that's when his face made the smooth transition from a couple feet away to mere centimeters from my mouth. I was surprised but I didn't stop him because I just couldn't comprehend what he was thinking and, when I did, I tried to gently push him away with the palms of my hands but he resisted as though he knew I wasn't really trying to push him away. Perhaps he knew I was just scared. Scared because it's been so long. Scared I'd forget. Scared I wouldn't dig it.
I didn't respond by diving in. Instead I watched his lips as they curved into the slightness of a smile and slowly parted as though eager to welcome me in. I let him exhale with anticipation, waited while his heartbeat increased and then I pursued the outline of his mouth. I watched as our lips touched and then I closed my eyes as he pressed the small of my back to bring me just a little bit closer. And it was so soft and so serene and it felt as though the entire upper half of my body was detached and floating above the ceiling. It was so delicate and yet so alive.
I didn't really notice the scruffles about his face, two days unshaven, until he pressed me even closer to his chest. I was standing now between his legs and he was gripping me with strong, determined arms as though to ensure I would not leave. I was hungry for that intensity and I suppose the reaction was contagious because he came right back at me with the same. And we were swirling in our own little world. The bartender did not bother us. The other patrons did not comment. The noises just faded into one big constant of white noise. We remained like this for nearly an hour.
I know for certain that I have not been that turned on in YEARS and so, with some difficulty, I ended it there. I let it go no further. It was closing time and we each paid our tabs. He walked me out to my car, gave me a hug and shook his head.
"I can't believe that's all you wanted, Laura -- just one good kiss."
"Sounds stupid, I know."
"No, what's stupid is that you let those fantastic lips wait this damned long."
So if it was the wrong thing to do, I don't think I ever want to be right...