I rocked back and forth slowly. My feet never left the ground but simply rolled from heel to toe with the rhythmic ebb and flow of Beth and Rory’s porch swing. I inhaled the cool, crisp breeze filled with the scent of earth and impending rain as if it held some healing property. The symptoms of my concussion had faded considerably in the last three days. Movement and light bothered me now only when sudden or excessive, and reading provided more solace than pain. If only I could sleep without fear of the past, I’d probably feel at least as good as when I’d arrived.
“Hey, McFly,” Rory called as she bounded up the porch steps. She’d taken to employing a wide and varied arsenal of time-travel nicknames to keep our conversations light. “Can you answer an honest question for me?”
“Sure.”
“When you went back into the past, did you kill John Connor?”
I rolled my eyes and stifled a laugh. “That’s a new one.”
“I just thought of a bunch of Terminator references while on my run.” She perched nimbly on the porch rail, leaning against one of the large support columns with her feet crossed casually in front of her. “Don’t worry. I’ll spread them out over the next few days.”
“Well, that’s something to look forward to.” I’d been released from the hospital yesterday but wasn’t cleared to fly for two more days. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get a hotel room? You know what they say about guests and fish starting to smell after three days.”
“Not at all. I haven’t gotten to use any of my Peggy Sue Got Married jokes yet.”
“What a way to pass the time.”
“Did you finish your book?”
I glanced at Jody’s copy of The Things They Carried, which hadn’t been out of arm’s reach since she’d lent it to me. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be finished with this book, but I’m having a hard time processing it in my current context.”
“Cut yourself some slack. You’ve been through a lot. You’re going to need some time to reorient yourself.”
“Time. I’ve got more time than I can handle until I go home.”
“What does it matter where you are? The questions will be the same in New York as they are here. I’d venture a guess that the answers will be the same too.”
“Any ideas what those answers might be?”
“Sorry. I’ve got nothing for you there, but if the dream was a product of your imagination that might be a good place to start looking for some resolution.”
She made the comment casually, her logic seeming effortless, but I got the message. Whether unintentionally or subconsciously, I’d created a variety of worlds for myself to navigate. I was the only person who could map the meaning of those experiences. “I suppose you’re right. I’ve got a lot to sort out. I might as well start now.”
She stood and stretched her lean form. “You’re a writer. Don’t you people lock yourself in a room and wax philosophical about the greater lessons of life until your eyes bleed?”
I shook my head. “You give me too much credit. My eyelids droop or turn to sandpaper, but I always stop before they bleed.”
“Fiction writers.” She shook her head as she went inside. “Must be a cushy life.”
I remained on the swing, pondering her suggestion. I’d spent the last couple of days trying to figure out if I should go back to what I used to know or create something new from my experiences, but maybe I’d given myself a false choice. Perhaps I needed to combine what I knew with what I wanted to make sense of.
I pulled out my MacBook Air. Typing still gave me a headache, but maybe I could talk about my experiences as a way to construct some meaning. I doubted any coherent work of literature could stem from such confusion, but at least the exercise would help kill my remaining time in Darlington.
After opening my dictation software I stared at the blank page. Where to start? The first sentence of any project was always one of the hardest, but here it involved more than prose. I needed to figure out how I’d gotten off track, or maybe put back on track, which meant I needed to figure out how the whole ordeal started.
Did everything begin when I fainted at the assembly? Perhaps it started when I chose not to kiss Jody, but even that moment needed context. Maybe the adventure began when I saw Jody at the restaurant and the rest of the world faded around us. No, even that memory seemed incomplete, or at least not mine to own. Out of so many pivotal moments, I needed to find the one where I’d made a decision, the one where I’d had the ability to choose another way completely and didn’t.
I closed my eyes and sifted through the memories until I heard a question, a statement. No, a command. “You’ve got to put yourself out there more, Stevie.” Edmond’s voice burned through the haze of my mind and plunked me down in a specific time and place, the last one left untouched. I replayed the conversation, speaking to my computer, and watched the story unfold on the page before me. I spoke my version of the events that led me here, not just reliving them but examining them from the perspective of a viewer, or a reader, a personal historian.
Darkness fell, and the air turned chilly. Rory opened the door wide enough to toss me a hooded sweatshirt. I continued my narrative through dinner. Beth smiled sweetly but said nothing as she placed a plate of home-cooked food on the swing next to me. One by one the lights downstairs went out, followed shortly by the ones upstairs. I wrote until I had nothing left to write about, except the act of writing itself.
Then, finally, I slept.
*
Jody exited her little black car and raised her hand to shield her eyes against the low-hanging sun. “You look much improved.”
“Thanks,” I said from my near-permanent spot on the porch swing. “I think.”
I enjoyed the view of her as she strode across the yard and up the porch steps. She’d clearly just come from school in her white oxford shirt, navy blazer, and sensible heels with her hair pulled back in a gold clip. She filled out the ensemble better than she had as a student teacher, and she carried her authority naturally, more from her grace and air of capability than from her fashion choices.
“I wanted to make sure you were still on the mend.”
“I think I am.” I scooted over and patted the spot next to me. “Both physically and mentally.”
“I saw Beth this morning,” Jody said, taking the seat and falling into the gentle rocking of the swing. “She said you’d been writing.”
“I went on a binge all day yesterday and most of the night.”
“Is it a new book, or a play?”
“I’m not sure. Right now it’s therapy.”
Jody nodded thoughtfully before affecting her best therapist voice. “And how does that make you feel?”
“Actually, a lot better. I worked through most of my major conflicts about what was real, or at least what reflected truth.”
“Care to share?”
“Well, I don’t know if the time travel itself actually happened, but you helped when you said everything turned out right in the end. When I was under, I got wrapped up in Kelsey’s survival, and that worked out exactly how I wanted. Then I got worried about you and your career, but you’re right where you need to be in this moment.” I sighed and thought about the last remaining questions, the ones that took me back to the start, the ones that tripped me up every chance I let them. You’ve got to put yourself out there more, Stevie. “I’ve resolved two of my three major plot points and am trying to work up the courage now to face the third.”
“And what’s that?”
My heart beat faster but without the crippling self-consciousness I’d felt in the past. “Will you go to St. Louis with me tonight?”
“What?”
“I want to test a theory. No, that sounds too clinical. I’d really like to take you on a date. The kind of date we may or may not have had before, the kind that builds memories and makes meanings regardless of what comes next for us.”
She smiled brightly, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “I’d love to have that kind of a date with you.”
I fought the urge to give a fist pump and instead revealed my eagerness by saying, “Can we go now?”
She gestured to her clothes. “I’m still dressed for work.”
I indicated my worn jeans and Rory’s hooded sweatshirt. “I’m still dressed for the porch. We’ll balance each other out. Let’s live this moment in present tense.”
“All right.”
“All right?”
She nodded. “Let’s go.”
She shed her suit coat as we crossed the Darlington city limits. We flew down I-55, laughing, talking, touching tentatively, the brush of a hand against a knee or a shoulder. As we crossed the mighty Mississippi, Jody unclasped the clip from her hair and shook out the fair strands. She pointed out new Busch Stadium in the shadow of the Arch, the corners of her mouth curving so deliciously they crinkled the corner of her eyes. The St. Louis scenery was impressive from the riverfront to Forest Park, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Jody. Any affinity I’d held for the city paled in comparison to the emotions she stirred in me.
Without the shifting walls of time or the rigid responsibilities of her job to constrain us, thoughts I’d previously fought finally flowed freely. My attraction to her strained every muscle and tendon in my body, but even more so I felt drawn to her on a deeper level, as though my heart pressed against my ribs in an attempt to be nearer to hers. Surrendering to her allure both thrilled and terrified me. The last time I’d been in this city with her I’d focused on the future I believed in. But now I refused to consider even the idea of a tomorrow.
“Where are we going?” Jody asked.
“I don’t know.”
She raised her eyebrows, and I realized she hadn’t meant for the question to be about my long-term intentions but rather about driving directions. “Oh, sorry. Head toward the Central West End.”
She slowed as she turned onto North Euclid, leaving the speed and congestion of the larger city behind. Trees shaded the road from the lingering light of dusk as the muted streetlamps cast dancing shadows across wide sidewalks. I had the overwhelming urge to be outside with her, strolling hand in hand while soft music wafted on the breeze around us. Well, maybe the music played only in my head, but I still directed her to the first open parking spot. Then on a whim I jogged around the front of the car and opened the door for her.
Jody flashed one of her heart-swelling smiles. “Thank you.”
Normally I would’ve felt cheesy in any sort of romantic lead. I was a New Yorker, for goodness’ sake, a modern lesbian, aloof and suspicious. But Jody had met each chance I’d taken tonight with openness, and even joy, so I decided to try for one step further and held out my arm. She took the offering without hesitation and looped her arm loosely through my own. An unusual lightness spread through my chest as we strolled along window-shopping and soaking up each other’s company.
While she stopped to examine some antiques in a storefront window, I surveyed her. I marveled at the complete sensory connection, from the gentle touch of her hand on my arm to the scent of her perfume in every breath I took. Her beauty filled my sight, and the sound of her voice thrilled my ears. The only sense left unsatisfied was taste, and the memory of her mouth on mine begged to be renewed, but I wouldn’t rush or push like I had before. The moment was no longer mine to command. The time we shared tonight would be an offering, an opening of myself for her to accept or reject of her own accord.
We ambled along until we reached the large plate-glass windows of Left Bank Books, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
“I love this place,” Jody said, her reflection smiling brightly at me in the glass. “Whenever I need to escape the small-mindedness in Darlington, I usually head here first.”
I eyed her seriously, wonder building in my chest. “I knew that.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” I answered emphatically and turned back to the books on display. The familiar sense of belonging enveloped us. We might have years and miles and jobs and a whole society between us, but we found solace in the same things. Surely that counted for something.
“Stevie, look.” Jody tightened her grip on my arm as she stared at the upper right corner of the display. There atop all the others sat my most recent release.
The thrill of seeing my own work on someone else’s shelves never got old, but this time it carried a different kind of excitement, of purpose, of belonging.
Belonging tied me to this spot in the past, and now the connection spilled out from the window to the woman beside me. I was through considering coincidences. She’d seen me here with her twice now, and as I stared at her reflection covering my name in the window, I couldn’t deny the two fit together somehow.
I untangled my arm from hers and looped it around her waist, lightly pulling her closer. The choice was hers, but I wouldn’t shy away from my desire to hold her. That desire grew tenfold as she fulfilled it by leaning closer, connecting her hip with my own and resting her head on my shoulder.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“About us, how nicely we fit together.”
She hummed a little noise of contentment. “That’s a very nice thing to think.”
“What about you?” I asked, meeting her eyes via our reflection. “What’s on your mind?”
“I like it here in your arms very much, but I don’t trust myself.”
“Why?”
“Because you feel too good. It all feels too right in a way nothing else has felt right in my life for a long time.” She shivered. “But there’s also a sense of urgency. When I see your book there, I remember you’re not tied to this place, or even to me. You’re going back to New York.”
My chest ached at the thought, and I tried to force it from my mind. “Not until tomorrow. We’ve got all night together. Let’s make the most of it.”
“One night.” She sighed. “Then you’d better distract me with a pretty nice dinner, because if I let myself dwell on everything I might like to do with the remainder of our time together, we’ll have to find some place much more private than a city sidewalk.”
The heat in my body quickly spiked to a level akin to a brick oven, expressing all the air in my lungs and zapping my throat dry. I opened my mouth in the suave manner of a fish snatched from water and stared at Jody. Amusement spread across her twinkling eyes and impish grin.
“Come on,” she said, pulling on my arm. “Duff’s is right across the street, and I think that’s our safest option…for now.”
I nodded mutely, trying to focus on steadying my legs as we crossed the street even while the echo of her “for now” rattled around my chest before settling someplace decidedly lower in my body.
*
Duff’s was an Irish-American pub with high-backed wooden booths and low lighting. The color scheme was overwhelmingly dark with the occasional brass accent, and I worked hard to study the details instead of losing myself in Jody’s eyes. If I didn’t stare at her, maybe I could lie to myself about how consuming my attraction to her had become. She seemed to be waging her own internal battle, but she’d chosen the weapon of our impending separation to combat her feelings.
“Tell me about your life in New York.”
“It’s, well, pretty standard. I live in the Village, down by…Wait. Have you ever been to New York?”
She shook her head.
“Then you wouldn’t know the cross streets. How else should I describe it?”
“Can you walk to the Statue of Liberty? Central Park?”
“Not really. Mostly I walk to Starbucks.”
She laughed, and then her eyes brightened even in the low light of the pub. “Do you go to Broadway?”
“A couple of times a year.”
“I’d love see a Broadway play,” she said wistfully.
“Come with me.” I reined in my enthusiasm and sat back in the booth. “I mean, come visit. We’ll go see whatever play you want.”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on. What kind of theater teacher has never seen a Broadway play?”
Her smile turned sad. “One who will probably never leave Darlington.”
The warmth in my stomach went cold and empty. Why did she have to keep reminding me I was leaving tomorrow and she would never leave? How would I stay present in the moment if she insisted on reminding me this might be our last moment together? “You have all summer off. You wouldn’t come to New York for a visit?”
“Just a visit?” she asked in a voice so soft I barely heard her. “I’m not sure I want to be a tourist in your life.”
The words struck me like a punch to the stomach. Is that what I asked of her? To play a bit part, a walk-on, a cameo? Was she saying she couldn’t play any part in my life, or that she’d accept only a starring role?
Our food arrived, perfectly cooked, perfectly plated, perfectly delicious, but neither one of us did much more than push it around our dishes. Maybe tonight hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Could we really repeat the past, especially a fictional one?
I struggled with the silence and tried to reignite our previous conversation. “I do live close enough to walk to the Stonewall.”
“That’s exciting,” she replied, her interest sounding genuine, if subdued.
“Yeah.” The novelty of the historic landmark had impressed me when I’d first moved to the area, even though I didn’t particularly identify with the Stonewall rioters. I’d never had much emotional attachment to the gay foremothers and forefathers who’d fought there. Even now I saw no part of my life as belonging to their legacy, except for a few moments in the halls of Darlington High School that might or might not have actually happened.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kill the mood.”
“No, you didn’t. I just realized the only part of my life I considered worthy of the Stonewall lineage probably wasn’t real.”
She turned her attention back to not eating her chicken marsala. “I know how you feel.”
“Really?”
“How could I not? I’m closeted. Everything I’ve ever done for our community has been a covert operation.”
“But you do so much good for your students. Your whole life is about making things better for the next generation. You offer them hope and protection.”
“Do I? Or am I only protecting myself?”
I reached across the table, and she met me halfway, interlacing her fingers with my own. “At least you’re doing something. I can’t say the same for my life. I’ve taken the easy road, the selfish road, and what do I have to show for it?”
“You have a successful career.”
I shook off the platitude. “I observe, I sit on the sidelines, I comment on fictional lives without ever taking a risk myself.”
“I’ve avoided risk too, Stevie.”
“But at least you did so for an honorable cause. Every student you reach goes on to help make the world a little better.” I squeezed her hand, trying to anchor myself though my faith in her. “And the world is changing. You have nondiscrimination laws in Illinois now, federal hate-crimes legislation. Gay marriage has even made its way to the Midwest. The generation you’ve educated made those changes.”
“But have I changed with them, or am I the same person I was ten years ago?” The creases in her forehead caused her brows to furrow over darkening eyes and made her appear older than ever. “And more importantly, do I want to be the same person ten years from now? Because that’s where I’m headed.”
My chest constricted, and I sat back, breaking the contact between us. “I think that’s the biggest question I’ve had left after my whole ordeal. Am I the same person I was in high school?”
“Maybe the more important question is do you want to be the same person you were in high school?”
“A week ago I would’ve said yes. I liked my life, myself, just fine.”
“And now?”
“I don’t.” It was the first time I’d said those words aloud, but the parts of my life or my personality I’d been content with now seemed weak and drab compared to the person I’d let myself become during my date with the past. “I’m ready to change. I’m just not sure how.”
She nodded, a strand of hair falling into her eyes. I wanted to slide it through my fingers, to run my thumb across the smooth skin of her cheek, to cup her face, to pull her in. I worried she’d pull away, but I still ached to take the chance.
“Jody.” I breathed the word more than said it. “I want to be the person I became in the past. I want to hold onto the good things I saw in myself. And one of the things I most liked about the new me was you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Or at least the person you made me want to be. That’s why I asked you out tonight. Regardless of whether those moments were actually real, I needed to know if the feelings they’d inspired in me held true.”
She inhaled a slow, deep breath as if steadying herself. “And?”
“They do. You inspire me. You make me better. The best version of me is the one with you, and I don’t want to lose you.”
She stared at me, eyes focused, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling slowly while I waited, attempting to remember to breathe. Seconds passed like hours. God, why wouldn’t she say something? Anything? Preferably something nice or reciprocal. Maybe she was trying to formulate a gentle letdown. As an English teacher, she hated clichés. So perhaps she wanted to formulate a more original version of the “we’re better as friends” speech. But with each second spent in painful silence, I began to suspect I’d prefer a slap across the face to the suffocating tension.
Finally, Jody held up one finger and signaled the waiter. Before he’d even fully approached the table she said, “We’re going to need the check now.”
“Would you like me to box up your—”
“No, thank you. Just the check, please.”
He reached into the pocket of his apron and produced the bill. I reached for it instinctively, still uncertain what had happened. Was she walking out on me? Had I offended her? Her expression remained controlled, neutral, unreadable while I counted out a couple of twenties and shakily tossed them on the table.
She rose slowly, took two steps, then turned back and drained her glass of merlot before wordlessly heading toward the door.
My heart hammered relentlessly as I followed her to the car. Clearly, I’d blown everything. How had I misread the situation so badly? I thought she’d sent me signals of her interest all night long. Maybe I’d gotten too emotional, too personal. Maybe she didn’t like me hinting at a future we couldn’t have. What if she had only expected a night of fun, and then I turned serious on her?
She got in the car, and I hesitated at the passenger-side door steeling myself for a long, awkward ride home. My heart felt like someone had fastened a metal clamp around it and begun to tighten the screw. So much for putting myself out there. I’d obviously misread the moral of this story, and damn, it hurt.
Jody reached across the car and pushed open the door. “Get in, Stevie.”
Uh-oh. She’d used her teacher voice. In no time, place, or situation did I dare refuse the teacher voice. Taking a deep breath, I climbed inside and closed the door behind me.
“Jody, I’m sorry.”
“You should be,” she said, then held up a hand to cut off my next attempt at apology. “You put me in a terrible position back there. I mean, really, you say something like that in the middle of a restaurant. What did you expect from me?”
“I didn’t expect anything. I didn’t think it through. I didn’t consider the fact that you might be uncomfortable or feel pressured to respond.”
“Or what about the fact that we’re in the middle of a city thirty minutes from my home with no privacy or space for me to respond freely?” She pushed her hands through her hair. “No one has ever said anything so perfect to me. It took every ounce of fortitude and self-restraint I’ve developed over the years not to grab you by the collar and drag you across the table.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t anticipate—wait, what?”
She smiled brightly and took my face in her hands, then pressed her lips to mine, instantly eliminating my confusion. There was no lag time, no shock to register or catching up to do. We came together effortlessly. Our mouths found each other—insistent, passionate, explosive. In a second we were fully intertwined, her hands on my waist, mine tangled in the fine hair at the back of her head. She opened her mouth, searching, gasping, grazing her tongue along mine. Her lips were impossibly soft, but she didn’t yield to me, or me to her. We both pushed on in tandem, neither willing to slow the surging tide of escalation.
The kiss was nothing like the one I remembered, not tentative or exploratory. This time we knew each other. We’d grown into each other, or toward each other, our bodies recognizing what our minds had refused to acknowledge. This was right. We were right. She tasted of sweetness coated in red wine, and I grew drunk on the combination. A fire started at my core and spread out, consuming us both. She grasped for more, tugging at the hem of my sweatshirt and slipping her hands underneath. I dragged my lips from hers, along her jaw and down her neck. I wanted more. I desperately nipped and sucked as much of her exposed skin as I could reach in the car.
“Stevie,” she gasped, her lips close to my ears, “we have to stop.”
“Yeah.” I panted but made no move to lessen the pressure of my mouth against her shoulder.
She extracted one hand from my shirt and ran it up my arm to my neck. Cradling my head, she held me in place, baring her neck for my continued exploration. “Really, we can’t do this here.”
“Uh-huh,” I mumbled.
She tugged on my hair lightly to break the contact of my mouth long enough for me to register her concerns. I sat back, dazed, and glanced around. People passed by the intersection just ahead of us. Headlights flashed to the side. The amber glow of a streetlamp illuminated the patch of sidewalk I’d occupied moments earlier. I took a shaky breath, then looked back to Jody.
The moment our eyes met her hands were on me again, immediately followed by her lips. We kissed fervently, her mouth persistent, demanding, exhausting. Quickly losing my grip on the situation, I eased back slowly, understanding we had to regain control while simultaneously wishing we never would.
Jody gave one last press forward, following me halfway across the car, before grazing her teeth across my bottom lip as she released me. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” I replied breathlessly.
“Was the kiss in your dream like that?” she asked, lifting her fingers to her swollen lips.
“It was good, amazing even, but this one was better.”
She blushed, momentarily bashful. “I got a little carried away.”
“We both did, but a good kind of carried away, right?”
“A very good kind.”
I grinned.
She grinned right back, and I worried if we stayed there staring at each other as if waiting to see which one of us devoured the other first, we’d end up arrested for lewd behavior in a public space.
“Maybe we should head back to Darlington now,” I said reluctantly.
“Probably.” She sounded equally displeased with our options as she fired up the engine and pulled out of the parking space.
We rode in silence back to the interstate, both of us breathing a little heavier than usual. As she crossed the bridge to Illinois, I took her hand in mine, caressing her wrist with my thumb. “It’s going to be a lot harder to get on a plane tomorrow.”
She nodded. “It’s going to be a lot harder to let you.”
The silence grew thick again as the suburbs faded behind us. The farther we got from the city, the further she slipped from me. I hated the chasm growing between us and struggled to think of a way to bridge the divide.
“Will you come visit me this summer?” She pursed her lips together, and I added, “Please?”
“A lot can change between now and summer.”
“I know, but I want to try.”
She nodded but didn’t agree, leaving me to wonder if she doubted my resolve or hers.
She slowed the car as she neared an unfamiliar exit twenty-five miles from Darlington.
“Are you okay?”
“I think so,” she said shakily. “This is my usual exit.”
I looked at the upcoming sign. Oquendo. Right, she didn’t live in Darlington. “Sorry you have to drive me all the way back to town.” I lied. I wished we would keep on driving, forever.
“You could…I mean it would be easier if…” She stopped, swallowed, then started again. “Would you like to spend the night with me?”
My answer was simply and painfully honest. “Yes.”
She squeezed my hand and took the exit, pulling onto a state road, then a town street, followed by a gravel driveway.
Without another word we exited the car, and I had to force myself not to rush us to the house. I took her hand in mine and brought it to my lips. “Are you sure about this?”
She touched my face, gently guiding me into a sweet kiss that hinted at much more with the lingering brush of her lips. Then she turned and opened the door, drawing me inside with her.
I wanted to see her home, to notice her personal touches, to compliment the warmth and charm the décor would certainly exude, but I couldn’t see anything other than her—her eyes glistening in the dim light, her hair falling down across her shoulders, her shirt wrinkled, and her cheeks flushed. I marveled that this beautiful woman who had avoided relationships and risks and invasions into her personal space had invited me into her sanctuary. The wonder was almost too much, leaving me momentarily speechless. A writer finds few things more frustrating than a loss of words, but in this case they weren’t lost as much as unnecessary.
Wrapping my arm around her waist, I held her close, then hooked one finger under her chin and lifted it gently until her eyes met mine. Suspended on the same breath with her, I imprinted her image in my mind. I took in the sight of her perched on the edge of desire, eyes heavy with need, lips parted, the pulse of her heart beating rapidly enough to reverberate through me. I burned her perfection into my memory. Then when I couldn’t stand the suspense a second longer, I captured her mouth with mine.
Years of doubt faded away along with our careers, our homes, and the very idea of a tomorrow. We met in our purest form—bodies, heat, energy. The sweetest intentions devolved into the basest of needs as gentle caresses gave way to touching, clutching, and groping. Jody’s hands were under my shirt, sliding up my ribs until she cupped my breasts. Holding them in her hands, she ran her thumbs around the curve at their sides, drawing circles ever closer to the center but refusing to capture them fully. My breath came sharper, harder, with the delicious tension of anticipation until she finally took what we both wanted, palming me fully and running her fingers over my nipples. We broke the kiss, gasping, and she used the separation to push the hoodie and undershirt over my head.
She kissed my shoulders, my neck, my collarbones as I began working at the buttons on her shirt, fumbling through a random pattern. One from the bottom so I could touch the smooth plane of her abdomen. Then two from the top so I could taste the skin between the cups of her bra. I became so entranced with that spot I popped open the next two from the bottom simply because they were the easiest to reach without lifting my head. I’d lost track of how many more I had to undo as a desperate need to have her unwrapped fully before me pushed at the back of my eyes. Clutching each side of the starched, white fabric, I meant only to test the restraints, but instead I pulled it open fully to the clatter of buttons breaking free and scattering across a hardwood floor.
Jody looked up at me, then down at her shirt, now open from her throat to her waist. Stepping back, she slid it from her shoulders and down her arms. Then reaching back for the strap on her bra, she released and guided it to the floor as well. I stood momentarily paralyzed, my mind rebounding enough to register that I’d never held anything so beautiful. I wondered only briefly if I was worthy of such a gift before my body regained control and asserted its ability to handle this situation.
I pulled her back to me, relishing the warmth and softness of her skin, flush against mine. We kissed passionately, tongues searching as we explored newly exposed territory with trembling hands. Her breasts were small, firm, and amazingly responsive to my touch. Dipping my head, I sucked a trail down her neck and across her chest. Kissing every spot of flesh along the way, I covered her breasts, taking one in my mouth quickly and then releasing it, then drew a path back to the other. She stumbled two steps until her back found the wall, and I followed eagerly.
She moaned, arching her neck and letting her head loll back. Her body was one smooth, graceful arch reaching out to meet my mouth, her skin a flawless canvas to paint with my lips. I bent lower, then knelt, kissing a scattered path along her stomach, varying pressure and depth as each space dictated. I wanted her to feel me, to know me, to always remember me against her body. I wanted to mark her, to see the evidence of this connection, to leave proof that I had really been here, to leave something of myself behind…but tears stung my eyes at the thought of marring such a perfect work or art. Pulling back to view her fully again, I chose instead to imprint her on me, both real and true. The overwhelming clench of my heart contented me with the knowledge she was as much a part of me now as the blood rushing through my veins.
Threading her hands through my hair, she guided me back to her body and held me fast to a spot just above her navel while I unbuttoned her slacks and lowered the zipper. Her pants fell to the floor, and I kissed a line above the waistband of her navy bikini briefs before peeling them away slowly to reveal the last piece of perfection.
Jody’s legs trembled, or maybe I did. The weight of what we were about to do wouldn’t allow either of us to remain upright for long, but I couldn’t wait or separate long enough to relocate. Breathing her rich, heady scent, I kissed lower over the final curve of her, through soft, blond curls and into liquid heat.
Jody cried out, clutching me to her center, her fingers digging into my shoulders, my neck, my scalp. Her body opened easily, so receptive, her hips rocking forward first to meet my mouth, then my fingers as I pushed inside her.
“Stevie, please,” she called out.
Chills danced across my bare skin followed fast by a fire stoked with the need she poured into my name. I pushed in more fully, something primal taking over as I rode the erratic rhythm of her hips. Searching the contours of her body, mapping her arousal, I refused to surrender to the incoherency threatening to cloud my mind and blur my sight. Instead I opened my eyes and, still holding her tightly to me, watched her muscles contract and shake. Kneeling before her felt almost religious, a thank offering for the gift of her body, the gift she’d bestowed for the sole purpose of my adoration.
“Yes,” she breathed, the most beautiful word I’d ever heard, and contracted around me. A strangled sob escaped her throat as she groped for something to anchor her while a final wave of passion crested around us.
Then her body went limp and slid slowly down the wall. Guiding her descent, I cradled her in my arms, pulling her head to my chest, offering what rest and comfort my own shaking limbs could afford.
Kissing her hair, her temples, her forehead, I rocked us softly together while her breathing slowed. “You’re so beautiful, Jody. Even more so than I dreamed.”
She squeezed me tighter, another tremor radiating from her body and through mine.
“What is it?” I asked
“I need you,” she said.
“I’m right here.”
She pushed back to arm’s length with both of us kneeling bare-chested before each other. Dark emotion swirled around her expanded pupils, holding me suspended in the intensity of her gaze. “I need you in my bed. Now.”
The air left my lungs in a rush, but she gave me no time to recover before taking my hand and leading me toward her bedroom.
Even in the shadows, her naked form made my mouth dry and my fingers twitch. No hallway had ever felt so endless or alluringly adorned. Finally, she pushed open a door, revealing a queen-sized bed with a rich cream comforter. I didn’t have a chance or the desire to examine anything further before Jody nudged me onto the bed. I sat on the edge, feet planted firmly on the floor in an attempt to keep grounded amid the dizzy wave of lust surging through me. I held my breath as she nestled her hips between my spread knees, then released it in a rush when she popped open the button atop my jeans.
She kissed me soulfully as she lowered the zipper, then dragged her lips to my ear and whispered, “I’ve dreamed of this moment since your first night back in town.”
Goose bumps spread down my arms as the words fluttered against my cheek and spread into my chest. “God, Jody, I’ve wanted you for so long.”
“You’ve got me.” She kissed my cheek and, with her palm splayed across my lower back, urged me into a standing position until my jeans spilled down my legs. Then without wasting any time, she sent my underwear to join them.
I watched her eyes rake over my body, a pink flush spreading across her chest as her eyes caressed my body from top to bottom, then up again. Under other circumstances such an inspection would’ve left me cowering, shaken to be exposed, fearful of being found lacking. But in Jody’s care, I summoned the courage to stand vulnerable and comfortable.
Pressing close again, she eased me onto the bed. I scooted back on my elbows toward the pillow. She crawled over me until she’d straddled my waist, her breasts taut against my own and her lips fastened to my mouth. The kiss wasn’t rushed, but it didn’t allow me to catch my breath either. Her tongue stroked mine, edging me higher even as she worked her hands lower. She scraped her fingernails down my chest and across my ribs before circling my stomach and turning back up just before she reached where I most wanted her to be.
On the second pass, my hips rocked up involuntarily to facilitate more contact. She smiled against my lips but didn’t acquiesce. Shifting her weight to her knees, she repositioned her hips firmly against me, both relieving the pressure and accentuating it. We moved together in the subconscious dance of giving and taking. I reached for more, wanting to pull her entire body into mine, clutching her hips, digging my nails into the soft flesh there. I rocked her against me, rolling, surging, and then retreating together. Clinging to her tightly, I relished the way her weight settled on top of me—firm, solid, undeniable. Sweat beaded between us, slickening our movements and immersing us in the scent of arousal.
Her mouth never left mine as she worked her graceful fingers between us and then between my legs. I bucked under her touch, so very close already, but she refrained from taking what could have been an easy end and moved lower, encouraging me to open and moving inside with one slow, steady push. I closed my eyes, my head rolling from one side to the other across the cool pillow, but she wouldn’t be content with the physical and withdrew almost completely.
“Open your eyes, Stevie.”
My eyelids fluttered, heavy and uncoordinated, but she waited until I focused, my gaze as clear and steady as hers before she moved forward again.
“I’m here,” she said. “I need you to know that.”
“Yes,” I gasped.
“It’s not a dream.”
I bit my lip to keep from shouting when she pushed deeper, her thumb grazing my clit.
“Let it out,” she urged me. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
My body believed her. My muscles contracted, holding her in place.
“I’m all yours tonight, Stevie. Don’t hold back.”
My breath came in harsh, uneven bursts. Fire spread across my cheeks and flashed behind my eyes. My hips jerked, and my fingers tightened around any piece of flesh they could grasp.
“So close.”
“I know, baby. Let go for me.” She gave one more emphatic thrust, and lightning flashed through my body. I shouted a string of incoherency as I lifted us both off the bed, every muscle contracting, twisting in my abs, and shaking through my limbs.
Jody rode, and stroked, and kissed me until I collapsed, wasted, beneath her.
“God, you’re amazing.”
She smiled as she rolled to the side and snuggled into the crook of my arm.
“I mean it. I’ve never felt anything like that. It’s like you saw right through me.”
“If I did, it’s only because you let me.”
“I did.” A sense of wonder floated through my consciousness. “I opened to you completely.”
“You were perfect.”
“No, we were perfect together. We are perfect together.” I rolled onto my side, a new feeling exploding in my chest. “Jody, I…I think I…”
She kissed me quickly, silencing the word on my lips but doing nothing to crush its existence.
“Shh,” she whispered when we parted, her eyes glistening with tears that froze me in fear.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
She placed her palm over my heart, and I wondered if she understood it beat for her now. “Don’t say it. Just show me again.”
The request seemed somehow inconsistent, but my body recognized what she’d asked of me, and I was no longer in a position to deny her anything.