Sally and I met in a lab course with a bad reputation that was a pre-requisite in both of our majors. After discovering we could do the work and get A's on the midterms, we had a couple of more relaxed study dates. After walking her back to her dorm, I got a warm thank you kiss but nothing more.
I asked myself if I was chasing a forlorn hope. Maybe she didn't see in me what I saw in her.
Something had to change. I'm not a horn dog, and I'm not into platonic relationships either. But schoolwork and crew practice didn't give me a lot of time for obsessing on my love life.
The next Friday afternoon, as I was leaving the gym, a text from her arrived. "Can you meet me at Mirka's for a drink in an hour?"
I thought to myself it might be an opportunity to nip this relationship in the bud. "See you there," I sent back.
I was halfway thru a nonalcoholic beer when she walked in, fifteen minutes late. Perfect, I thought, we are history.
"Hi, sorry I'm late. Can I get you another one of those?"
"Depends on what you asked me here to talk about." I didn't smile.
"Ok," she said, "I'll be right back."
She returned with two large cocktail glasses, alarmingly full of pink fluid.
"I think you need some liquid therapy to prepare yourself for my extreme idea." She smiled a lot.
She held a glass up and I grudgingly matched mine with hers. "This better be good," I grunted, "Coach would kill me if he saw me drinking."
She sat down in the booth and slid over with her hip hard up against me. "Don't be such a grouch. It's not every day a girl buys you a double margarita to break training with." She took a very large gulp of the cocktail.
She was right. Mind your manners, I said to myself. I stretched my arm around her shoulders and bent down to kiss her cheek. Before I got there, she turned and met me halfway with her lips. Still nice soft warm lips, but this time there was a tongue finding its way into my mouth, and an arm around my neck holding me in.
After what seemed like a very long time, she pulled back. "Better? Am I forgiven?"
I stared at her, thinking of a good response.
"Let me put it this way. If we were a couple, and we'd just had a fight, I don't think I could stay mad after that."
She laughed and said, "Good, because our being a couple is on my list."
Trying to keep up, I took a good slug from my drink and asked, "Is this something really complicated? Something only a very beautiful, sexy, athletic, smart woman like you could cook up?"
She looked up at me, eyes wet, and said, "Another kiss, please?"
I could get used to this real quick. Now she had her arms around me and was melting her ample chest into mine. All of a sudden, we were definitely not history.
She whispered into my ear, "It is complicated, but I need more kisses and maybe we need a little more privacy?"
"Sure. We could go to my apartment. I promise I won't attack you, but there aren't any margarita makings."
"That's a better offer than having to deal with my roommates. Drink up and let's go."
My apartment was actually the third floor of a faculty couple's home, and the protocol of the situation required us to stick our faces into the living room and say hello. Professor Smithers' wife Emily is the nicest person around and made Sally feel welcome. "You go right upstairs with Brian, dear. If he gives you any trouble, I'll come up with my gardening trowel and take care of him."
Her husband and I laughed and Sally answered, "Good, we'll both subdue him!"
We got to the third floor and Sally wandered from room to room while I checked the booze supply.
"My god, Brian, this is a palace. I know a dozen women who would move in with you tomorrow just to share this apartment."
Wondering what else they would share with me, I grabbed her hand and walked into my small bedroom, in which a beautiful brass bed took center stage. "Go over and flop down on the bed."
She looked at me, but did as I asked. As her body landed, there was a symphony of squeaks and rattles. I sat down next to her. More squeaks and rattles. Her face dissolved in laughter.
I said, "This bed is for sleeping, not screwing."
Still laughing, she said, "So when, I mean, when someone is here, what do you do?"
I picked her up and walked back into the living room and dumped her into the down cushions of the sofa my mom had gotten me when she discovered the music of the brass bed. No sound at all.
She lay there, looking very provocative. I said, "There's beer and wine."
"Any open red?" she responded.
As I was fixing the drinks, she asked, "I didn't get to shower after practice. Do you let strange women into your bathroom?"
"Sure, there's even a clean towel on the shelf. I have some homemade soup Emily gave me, and some French bread. Would you like a bite to eat?"
By the time she finished, I had the soup warmed and the bread toasted. My mother's crimson silk robe looked very fetching on her.
"Which of your mistresses does this belong to?" she asked, eyes sparkling.
"You probably won't believe this, but in return for my mother buying furniture, she has sleep over privileges and leaves some clothes here."
Sally asked, "What does your mom do?"