Her head is on his lap, her body curled up on the sofa. She uses his denim clad thighs as a pillow. She drifts between sleep and drowsy awareness.
They are with his friends, watching a movie, talking and joking. He didn't want to go to bed. She was tired and more than a little disappointed. She hadn't spent the whole night with him since they started. She was so eager but he lingers with his friends.
So she disconnected from them and pillowed her head on his knees, hoping he'd get the hint. She was convincing enough that she unintentionally fell asleep.
She stirs a bit but doesn't want to move, she's too sleepy. Impressions come at her through the haze. The boys banter back and forth, catchwords and stories. Memories she doesn't share.
She warms as his hand keeps returning to stroke her long dirty blonde hair. His short blunt fingers caress her cheek tenderly, like she's his charm. She can smell the nicotine on them; familiar and a comfort. Snatches of their conversation mingled with the movie dialogue come through, incomprehensible to her in her drowsy state.
He gets up, easing her off of him and goes out with the others. They must have gone to the garage for a smoke. She opens her eyes and watches a little of the movie. Something about gangs. They all love it, it's an old favorite. In a few minutes they return.
"Amy," His voice is proud and possessive. His bright blue grey eyes sparkle at her. He might as well have said "Mine."
"Hi honey," she murmurs back, smiling up at him.
"You want to go to bed?"
"Yeah." Drowsy, she really does.
"The stuff's downstairs. Greg's not sleeping here tonight, so you can take his spot. Have a good time." Pat breaks in, leering. He doesn't like her but he's happy his buddy's getting laid. She's never liked him either. Oh well, they can be polite. It seems to be enough.
Mark holds out his hands to lift her off of the couch. He leads her downstairs. There's a rusty old sofa bed and some sleeping bags tucked in the corner. It's not an inviting option. Together they strip the sofa of cushions and make a nest for themselves on the floor with the sleeping bags.
This isn't the first time but so far it's been clumsy, awkward. They've muddled through, she taking the lead. Without someone directing her (as in the past) she's been hurrying to get it over with. To be free of the self consciousness of it.
They quickly undress, sneaking furtive glances at one another. She's seen him unclothed before, close up. He doesn't hide but he doesn't make a show of himself either. His build is average, as tall as she. She is still not used to being with a boy her own age, 18. She's always preferred older men. She is still learning how to be with him.
Mark always tries to get a better look at her but she hides from him. He usually tells her not to be ridiculous, that she is beautiful but she can't believe him. Her small, firm breasts are a source of shame. She wishes she was more voluptuous like her friends. They say they wish they were slim like her. She guesses no one is ever satisfied with their own body.
They get under the covers, lying on their sides, facing one another. His hands encircle her waist and she traces the contours of his body with her fingers. His skin is soft, his body compact.
This is the first time they've shared a bed for sleeping since that first night. She hopes it will be like that again. She moves in to kiss him and at the same time reaches for him. Softly, he pushes her hand away.
"Don't rush." he says, smiling at her.
Mark is so odd. She's not used to someone who doesn't want to be taken care of. He's let her before but apparently he's not been satisfied either.
"I don't know what you want." She's upset and at a loss.
"Yes you do," he says, "You just don't have to rush. What about you? What do you want?"
"I want you to be happy with me." she answers.
"I am."
He holds both her hands and kisses her slowly. They leave it that way for a time. It's delicious. He curves his arm around her middle and pulls her closer. Her hand is on the back of his neck, fingers brushing his long blonde hair.
His free hand moves gradually from her hip and up her side. For a moment his thumb toys with her nipple, playful and light. His hand continues to roam across her, all over. He reads the rounded places of her body with his fingers, exploring her: backside, belly, breasts, thighs, hips; every place that usually gets ignored.
She moves her head to the side and pulls in, nuzzling him. She begins kissing the side of his neck, his ear, his cheek. She mirrors his deliberate pace, adoring him with her lips.
His hands remain tantalizingly out of reach. They'll move to within millimeters of her sex and then glance away, up to the small of her back or down to her knees. She's close to squirming, it's making her crazy.
