Chapter Two
I found the next week dragging terribly. I was between semesters at school and my xBox, Frisbee golf, and even darts could only use up so much time. I waited as patiently as I could, but by Tuesday I lost the battle and called her.
It wasn't much of a conversation really. She agreed to go to dinner with me and I picked her up about thirty minutes later.
Once again the dinner was a joy. I had never felt this comfortable with a woman. We even started joking about the difference in our ages and I took that as a good sign in what I hoped would be a long-term relationship.
When I asked about a drink later she declined.
"Sorry Davey," and I noted the subtle pet name, "but I do have a meeting tomorrow and I have to be at the top of my game."
So I took her home, with the top down again, and at the door waited until she gave me one of those light, not-quite-peck-not-quite-invitation kisses.
I called again Thursday, but I didn't push for another date.
Friday came at last and I picked up another of those little bouquets on the way to her house.
Her grin was bright when she saw me standing there, like an old rerun of Leave it to Beaver, with my little bouquet held out.
"Come in," she said, taking the flowers and heading for the kitchen.
With the flowers safely in a vase, we headed out. This time it was Chinese food for dinner and the movie was "John Carter of Mars" at a little second-run theater downtown. I was again transported to my teenage years as I casually (anyway I hoped it was casual) laid my arm across the back of her seat and let my hand touch her shoulder. She turned to look at me, smiled, and returned her attention to the screen. She did lean toward me a little.
Afterward, we went to a small local tavern, shared beers, and discussed the movie. We were both action/adventure movie junkies and agreed that "Fast and Furious" was possibly the best movie ever made. A couple of beers and there it was, not yet midnight when she smiled and said "take me home please."
As usual, we sang along with the oldies on the way home, the top down and I suppose drawing looks from the Friday night cruisers.
I walked her to her door and she put the key in. Then she turned to me with that cute mouth-pulled-to-the-side look.
"Okay buster," she said, giving me the one-eyebrow treatment, "are you going to make me kiss you again, or are you finally going to do it yourself?"
That was all the invitation I needed.
She felt good in my arms. Her lips, thin in appearance were soft in contact and fit mine, and our noses knew automatically where to go. I found the feeling of her slender body under my hand to be absolutely wonderful. In part, it was so different from what I normally sought that the simple uniqueness of the experience was part of the excitement. But mostly it was her.
And she was passionate. Her hands were pulling me to her, and her breath catching. That soft little moan/whimper/hum sound only a woman can make was soft in my ear.
When I started unbuttoning her blouse she suddenly stiffened and pulled away.