The Reunion 109

"Ok. Don't worry, just relax," Amy thought to herself in her parked car, her hands still on the wheel.

"Everyone's nervous at reunions." After a final glance at her reflection in the rearview mirror, she unbuckled her seatbelt and took a steadying breath, and stepped out into the evening air. She walked towards the school she'd graduated from 10 years earlier. It felt like a half-remembered dream: everything felt kind of familiar, but alien too. She had no time to reminisce, though. She had decided to be late to give everyone else a chance to get tipsy and to skip the initial awkwardness, but she was already later than late. She walked into the reception area and followed the directions taped to the walls of the corridors in the heart of the building, the gymnasium, noting all the little changes as she passed them.

She hadn't really known what to expect, so she'd had done her best to not over- or under-dress. She'd done well, she assessed. Formally informal, in a black pencil skirt and a black open-back halter-top. Stud earrings. A discreet silver necklace. Hair long and straight. Black heels were her only concession. She stepped into the gym and through an archway that read:

"WELCOME CLASS OF '06" in glittery neon letters.

The room was full of people and each face was vaguely familiar in one way or another. She stood under the gaudy arch and everyone, everything, recalled long-forgotten anecdotes and stories and relationships. The vast majority of these people she hadn't had any contact with for a decade, and suddenly she felt like she had never been away. Just as it was feeling a little overwhelming, a voice made its way to her over the hum of conversation and the background of deliberately ironic music from 2006.

"Amy! AMY!" called the voice. Amy turned to see Sara, her old study partner and organizer of the event, scurrying towards her across the half-filled hall with two glasses of champagne, one outstretched towards Amy.

"It's been so long, how are you?" cooed Sara, already a little flushed from the drinks.

"Sara!" replied Amy as she accepted the glass and hugged awkwardly.

"I'm good, I'm good, pretty weird to be back here," she said, looking around the room.

"Where have you been? We haven't heard much from you over the years," asked Sara.

"Well, travelling for a few years, took a job abroad, just moved back a year ago for a career shift, you know. Normal stuff really. I'm getting into real estate," Amy replied, suddenly realizing how hard it is to summarize ten years of life in a single sentence to a relative stranger.

"Traveling? Wow, awesome, that sounds so exciting. You're looking GREAT too!" said Sara sincerely, and with a little surprise. Amy noticed it and was genuinely flattered. Amy was perfectly happy in high school. She had been good, studious, friendly, well-adjusted, but not particularly interested in guys or looks - her own or anyone else's.

Apart from one. Sam. The guy she'd lost her virginity to ten years earlier. The memory had been triggered by Sara's compliment. Sam had pursued her for weeks, gently. Amy knew he liked her, didn't really know why, and didn't really like him back. It wasn't personal: she didn't really like anyone that much, not in that way.

What she eventually came to learn was that Sam didn't either. He wasn't noticeably good-looking, and he was the kind of guy wouldn't have noticed good looks either. Amy and Sam had a shared interest in disinterest. That was all there was to it. Eventually, just out of sheer persistence, Sam won her over and they started hanging out. It was late in the school year, close to graduation. They both suspected they would never see each other again, and they were ok with that.

But they should at least have sex, shouldn't they? They got on, neither of them had done it before, and this could be their last chance. And they did. And it was as awkward and fumbly and fun and fast as anyone might expect. And they never saw each other again. Sam went off to college and Amy went traveling. Amy had come a long way since high school.

She had been a good student, but always part of the background. Few people at the reunion were in a rush to speak to her. But now, looking around, she realized that all the traveling she'd done, all the success she'd achieved, all the sun she'd seen, all the clean air she'd breathed and fresh food she'd eaten, she had become hotter than all of them. Her moment of unexpected pride was immediately punctured by another voice behind her.

"Amy?" it asked. Amy turned to face the voice. It was Sam. Of course it was.

"Holy shit, what are the chances you'd be the first person I bump into?" Sam asked through a broad smile.

"Sam! I was literally just thinking about you," she replied, more honestly than she'd meant to. They looked at each other for several long seconds, studying each other's features, relearning each other for a moment, like puppies reunited as dogs.

"Um, I'll catch up with you guys later," said Sara, politely aware of the moment happening in front of her, and she backed away into the crowds around the makeshift bar for more champagne.

"Aw, that's sweet," said Sam. "I still think about you sometimes too. Crazy how fast people just lose touch after high school, huh?"

"I think that's the way I wanted it, to be honest. I don't know. I was young. I just wanted to sever the ties with teenage me as soon as possible and get on with things. I don't really know why. It's really good to see you though! How are you? How's life?" asked Amy, suddenly aware that she might have accidentally offended Sam by telling him how much she wanted to cut ties with everything and, by extension, him.

"I'm good, and I get what you mean," Sam replied, to her relief.

"I feel a bit uncomfortable being back here too. I'm so late because I couldn't even decide whether or not I should come, you know? And now I'm here, it's not quite real, it's like, I don't know, experiencing somebody else's memories or something."

"Deep, man," nudged Amy. Sam bowed his head and smiled a little in self-deprecating embarrassment.

"Was this song really ten years ago? I feel so old all of a sudden," said Sam, changing the subject deftly."

"You don't look it. You're looking good. You really grew up, huh?" said Amy. And he had. After college he'd become a photographer and seen a lot of the world, just as Amy had. He was tanned, slim, and much more muscular than he'd been the last time they met. Ten years ago, he looked a little awkward in his own body. Now he'd clearly grown into it, and with a little stubble and the beginnings of some sophisticated wrinkles around his eyes, looked a little rugged.

"Ah," he said modestly.

"Thanks. It's more luck than judgment, believe me. I usually look like I slept in a barn. This evening I wore a shirt - that's the extent of my commitment tonight. This shirt."

"That's too much commitment," said Amy with mock-seriousness.

"You should take it off."

"It's a school reunion," he replied.

"No one here needs to be reunited with my nipples."

"No," said Amy.

"The nipple reunion's next week."

"I'll definitely be coming to that one then," said Sam.

"Might even arrive early. Awkward social events are always less awkward topless. But only as long as everyone's topless. There's like a complicated inverse relationship between social anxiety and nipple quantity. If there are like 50 people and only two nipples, it's extra awkward for everyone. But if there are 50 people and 100 nipples, that's a party."

"Putting your college education to good use, there," said Amy.

"I honestly don't know what the fuck I'm talking about," laughed Sam.

"Me neither," Amy replied,

"But it's probably the most interesting conversation I'll have tonight. Should we just, like, take off and go catch up? There aren't many people I wanted to see anyway." Sam pretended to think.

"Well, I was hoping to bump into someone who became a lawyer. It's always good to have a lawyer friend. But yeah, let's go." Somehow they both knew what was going to happen next. Some kind of unconscious agreement. They had picked up exactly where they had left off, with that same sort of slow burning chemistry that had defined their relationship. But there was something different this time. They shared a little more maturity, a little more experience, and a lot more confidence. This time the chemistry wasn't burning so slowly. And they were both aware of it. They continued to joke and flirt as they ambled through the corridors, back towards the parking lot, when something caught Amy's eye. She pulled Sam over to the door of a classroom and looked through the glass.

"Do you remember this room?" she asked. Sam thought for a minute. He moved in behind her and pressed his weight against her so he could see through the window too. Through it, they could see piles of desks stacked on top of each other, casting strange shadows around the classroom, clearly no longer used, but where they had once shared a class as seniors.

"Sure..." he said, collecting his memories.

"This is the room where you finally agreed to go out with me." Amy turned in front of him, her back now pressed against the door, their faces close. She slid her hand down to the door handle and pushed. The door clicked open, a shard of light from the corridor piercing the darkness of the classroom. She slid a finger under the waistband of his pants and stepped backwards, pulling him inside. The door closed behind them and she pushed him against it, her body weight now on his, and kissed him. Sam kissed back. He'd changed. She could tell from his kiss. Sam felt the Amy smile against his lips. Amy felt Sam against her thigh. She let out a little 'hmm' of surprised satisfaction and Sam broke away from the kiss.

"Are you judging me?" asked Sam, jokingly.

"Maybe," said Amy.

"And maybe you're already doing a whole better than last time."

"Let's see what else I can do well," said Sam, as he held her hips and moved his kisses down her and over her left shoulder. He pushed her back towards the center of the room without taking his lips off her until the backs of her thighs found the resistance of the large wooden teacher's desk. Still without breaking his kiss Sam moved his hands down her legs and began to slowly lift Amy's skirt, edging it higher and higher, giving her all the opportunity she wanted him to stop. She didn't want him to stop, so the skirt crept up and up until she was standing, leaning back against the desk with her feet apart, naked from the waist down apart from her black heels and black lace panties. Sam stood back to regard her.

"You look so damn good," he breathed, as if he couldn't have stopped the words if he'd wanted to. He knelt, taking her ankle with one hand and the back of a thigh with the other. He ran a tongue up the inside of her thigh and nestled his face into her panties. She watched him from above, her heart rate increasing. She put her slender fingers on the back of his head and pulled his face into her, lifting her hips a little. He licked her through her panties, his eyes closed and his breath deep and warm on her skin. As she began to moan, Sam began working her panties down with his tongue. Amy watched him making slow progress, not willing to help - wanting him to work for it. Slowly, and with difficulty, he worked them off her hips and slid them down her legs. She pulled one foot out and left them hanging on her other ankle.

"Fuck me," she whispered down to him as she moved to lie back on the desk.

"No," came Sam's reply. Still on his knees pushed her back, she was lying on the desk, her knees in the air, and apart, her fingers still woven into his hair. Sam bit her inner thigh, her pussy dampening his cheek and causing her entire body to tense in rebellion. He turned his head to face her and he began to tenderly lick her, firmly and slowly. But Amy was in no mood for tenderness. She wanted him to spoil her. She pulled his face hard against her pussy and began to grind against him. Sam, still with his eyes closed, offered his tongue to her and she fucked it. Sam's stifled moans of pleasure told Amy just how good she tasted. They were frenzied. They had no inhibitions and Amy was made wetter by the sounds of Sam's mouth on her. She could speak only in obscenities.

"Fucking suck it, oh fuck, yeah, make me cum," Amy seethed through clenched teeth. She noticed that Sam's whole body was shaking. She couldn't see, but she knew he had undone his pants and was stroking his cock faster, so aroused was he by Amy masturbating with his face. With one hand she worked directed Sam's tongue deeper inside herself, the vibrations of his moans transmitted perfectly into her pussy. She moved the other hand to her clit and began stroking it in rhythm with her use of Sam's tongue. Her short little gasps began to blend into a single long one as she recognized the beginning of an orgasm rush through her body.

"Oh shit, fuck Sam I'm going to cum," she said, her eyes clamped closed and her head arched forward, every muscle in her body telling her to climax.

"Do it. Cum on my face," growled Sam into Amy's pussy. The frankness of the statement pushed her over the edge. Her moan became a squeal as she stroked her clit faster and faster, and fucked herself with Sam's tongue deeper and deeper. She was close, so close. And then her body froze for what felt like an eternity before releasing a crashing series of tremors, her mouth producing a new involuntary noise with each one. Her whole body was wracked with pleasure, starting with her hair, surging down her body and into her pussy, and straight onto Sam's handsome, panting face. Her hand loosened from his hair and dropped in her pussy. Sam sat back on his heels a smile on his wet face and the mess he'd made covering his hand and pants. Her orgasm had activated his. Together, they caught their breath in the dark. Amy was the first to speak.

"Shit... I did NOT expect tonight to go this way."

"I did," said Sam, grinning. "Well, hoped. I wanted to apologize for being so shitty at it the first time."

"Oh Sam, that's sweet," said Amy. "You weren't that bad. But you should definitely apologize more."