[I puzzled over where this story belongs. I'm pretty sure I got it right, even though some readers may disagree. It's not about having sex. Not even a first kiss, most of us got our first kiss on the day we were born. Mark was forty-six when he got his first introduction to "loving." Enjoy.]
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"We want to get married!" She stood in front of me and it was pretty evident from her body language and her tone that she really wanted to scream it out. She didn't. The man standing beside her was not looking quite as enthusiastic. He held her hand... no, she held his hand. He was dressed in khaki pants, an Izod pull over shirt and Docksiders. She wore a pull over shirt too, stretched tight across her breasts, that barely reached far enough to touch her white shorts. Her hair was in a pony tail threaded through the hole at the back of her baseball cap. The hat carried the logo of the "Cubs".
"Are you making an announcement, asking for an appointment or asking if I'll perform the ceremony?" I asked.
"Yes! Will you marry us?"
"Possibly. Before we can decide that we need to cross some bridges. Can you meet with me in the next few days?"
"I'm free Thursday afternoon and all day Friday. Joel is free Friday afternoon." She said. I started to wonder if he ever spoke.
I looked at my calendar. "Ok. I can meet with you Friday at eleven and with you, Joel, at one. Does that work for both of you?"
She nodded. Joel finally spoke. "How long will my appointment be?"
"Plan on ninety minutes, but it may not take that long. Before you come coordinate your schedules so the following Friday I can meet with both of you, together, for ninety minutes. Any plans you already have, you need to bring with you to the first appointment."
"Ok!" She squeezed his hand tighter and then released him. She stepped close to me and gave me a hug. It pressed her ample chest against mine and it lasted exactly long enough for it to register that it was less of a hug than an exhibition of her chest. Then she took his hand, they turned and left my office.
I opened a new file in the folder, "Pending Marriages" named "Joel & Tiffany". I made some quick notes and the door to my office opened. My wife Joan walked in, waited until I stopped typing and said, "I don't think you're going to marry them."
I rolled my chair back away from my desk and asked, because she wanted me to ask, "Why do you think that?"
"He doesn't want to get married. He certainly doesn't want to be married to her."
"Then why was he here?"
"Guilt!"
"About?"
"They both grew up in Christian homes. Their parents gave them the "save-it-till-you're--married speech and they listened. Then the hormones and the distance from their parents happened and they did it. Now he feels guilty and marriage is the only way out of the guilt. She's thinking, "It worked!"
"Sometimes you are very cynical."
"I'll make you a bet." She slid into my lap, wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me. The first time she did that my heart stopped. That was ten years ago and it stopped for a second every time she kissed me like that. She kissed me quite a few times. My hand slipped up inside her sweater and found one of her mounds.
We both heard the front door open and close. We didn't stop what we were doing. A few seconds passed and a male voice said, "I wasn't sure I had found the offices of the Church of Love and Life, but I guess I found it."
I looked up and saw Mark Jackson standing in the doorway. Forty-six, starting to go gray, dressed in a suit and looking very business-like. I motioned him to a chair and Joan kissed me again, making a non-verbal promise about the future. She climbed off my lap and closed the office door as she left.
"So, my friend, what brings you by?"
"How do you do it?" Mark asked.
"Ask the question you want the answer to."
He paused. "How can I have a life like yours? Joan loves you like no other love I've ever seen, except for your other wife."
"You've been around us for three years. What do you see that is different about me?"
"Nothing! I'm as good looking as you. I have more money. I don't rent. I own. I wear nice suits."
"Maybe what's different isn't about stuff. Forget the stuff. What's different about me from you?"
"I don't know."
"You lie."
"You mean I do know?"
"And I mean the difference is you lie. Who was the last woman you told you loved her?"
"Ann White."
"Did you love her?"
"I think so."
I hit the intercom, "Honey, can you come in here for a minute?"
The door opened and Joan came in, closing the door behind her. I pointed to the other chair in the room. She stuck out her lip for a second and then sat down.
"Mark, do you love Joan?"
"Love her how?"
"Wrong answer." Joan said.
"Mark, do you love Joan?"
"Yes!"
"Tell her."
"Joan, I love you." He had turned, faced her and leaned forward about two inches.
Joan had watched his face as he spoke. When he stopped she kept looking at him for a few seconds.
"Joan, I love you." I said. She smiled. "Did you believe Mark?"
"No. He wasn't giving me anything."
I spoke. "Mark, she's telling you what's off. You want to get something. You want her to sit in your lap, put her arms around your neck and her tongue down your throat."
"And, that's wrong?"
"If you want Joan to love you, it's wrong."
"I don't get it."
"If you were to kiss me, why would you do it?" Joan asked.
"I love kissing. I'd love to be able to say I kissed you, even to myself."
"What would you be thinking about while I sat in your lap, my arms around your neck and my lips against yours?"
"About how you felt in my lap and how great your lips felt. Isn't that what I should feel."
"Ask Nick."
"Nick?"
"I was thinking about what Joan needed from me, how I could make the kisses better for her. Then, when we actually kissed I focused on opening me up to her. Whatever she wants, needs or desires I am hers."
"That's why we treat him the way we do. He kisses us often and it's always about being a gift to us. He gets by giving to us. You get by taking. It doesn't even sound good."
"Ok. I believe you. It doesn't help. I don't know how to do what you're telling me."
"Are you willing to learn?" I asked.
"Hell, yes!"
"Joan, would you get me a blindfold and a volunteer, please."
She smiled and got a blindfold from her desk. She tied it on Mark and made sure he couldn't peek. She left the office.
"Mark, someone is going to come into the office and sit in your lap. Leave your hands at your sides. She is going to kiss you. You don't know her. Think about being in the kiss. Her name isn't important. Her looks aren't important. Her career isn't important. What is important is that she can feel you. If you lose focus in the kiss she'll know. If your mind wanders, she'll know. If you think about the possibility of another kiss, she'll know. Just be in the kiss. You want to know who you are kissing? You are kissing God. This is the most powerful spiritual experience of your life. You get to kiss God."
Joan had changed clothes and came back in, barefoot. She gently straddled his lap and pressed against his torso. Her finger tips held his face and her lips touched his. I watched his skin color begin to change. His breath changed as well. He forgot to breathe for a time.
As the kiss lasted she parted her lips and touched her tongue to his lips. He opened his mouth and his tongue came out. She stood, frowned and walked out of the office.
I said, "Take off the blindfold." He did.
"That was incredible!" He said.
"No. It wasn't. You lost focus and changed to an aggressor. She was giving you a tender, loving gift and you hit it with a hammer!"
"Don't women like aggressive men?"
"When she wants one, she'll let you know. Her signals were so tender and soft. She used her body to tell you she wanted you to love her, gently, softly, with lavender and roses, not Ben-Gay and ace bandages."
"I was thinking about what I wanted."
"We all knew that." I paused. "All I ever want is for her to be happy."
"That was Joan?"
"That is the mantra you must say and believe. All I ever want is for her to be happy."
"When her lips touched mine I was happy."
"No one cares. Deciding you're happy is a lot like masturbating. It's good, but it isn't the real thing. When her lips touched yours, how did she feel?"
"I don't know."
"Remember the kiss. Close your eyes. Be there again."
I waited. He closed his eyes and waited. When he opened his eyes he looked sad. "I wasn't there for her. I don't know how she felt."
I hit the intercom, "Honey, do we have another volunteer?"
"Yes. Shall I come in and reblindfold him?"
"Please do."
She had changed back to the clothes he had seen before. She put the blindfold on and walked out. Carole Nelson walked in. Tiny, by comparison to Joan, Carole was maybe five foot tall and fully dressed might have weighed a hundred pounds. Her hair was maybe half an inch long. To quote her, "I'm as flat as an eleven year old boy." She didn't straddle his lap but sat with both legs hanging off his right leg. She leaned to him and kissed him. Her lips pressed gently on his and his hands twitched. She slowly moved her head just a little and changed her pressure lip to lip.
She opened her mouth a little and touched his lips with her tongue. At a minute she broke the kiss and jumped down from his lap. She came to me and we kissed. When she broke the physical connection and walked out Mark was still sitting with the blindfold on.
"Take off the blindfold, Mark."
He did. I waited. When he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out. He shut his mouth and I waited. He opened his mouth again and said, "I want to kiss like that. She gave me a gift. She gave me something I didn't even imagine existed."
"She focused. She focused all the love in her into kissing you. A year ago she kissed like you. She practices a lot and she's learning how to give."