by Robin Roseau
I backed out of the parking space, and Julie gave directions to the restaurant. We parked a half a block away and walked. Julie actually waited in the car for me to open her door. Once she was on the sidewalk, she waited for me to lock up, then she stood waiting for me. I took two steps towards the restaurant, but she lagged behind. I turned to face her. She was standing there watching me, and I felt as if I'd failed a test.
I took two steps back to her side, and she looked pointedly at my arm. Twice.
"Teaching me how you like to be treated?" I asked.
She smiled. "Is that a problem?"
"No." I offered her my arm, and she took it. Together we walked slowly to the restaurant, Julie taking what I felt were very small steps. I was accustomed to moving much more quickly, but I didn't want to drag her along. I didn't think that would be in keeping with how she wanted to be treated.
I held doors for her, and we stepped into a rather unusual restaurant. It felt a little like an upscale cafeteria. One stood in line, ordering ones food, dragging a tray along, then found a place to sit after paying for the meal. I glanced at Julie. This didn't seem like the type of place she would have preferred me to take her.
"You're wondering why here?"
I nodded.
"You first offered the Vietnamese restaurant," she said.
I nodded. "You were offended."
"Only for a moment, and not after you explained. But in offering that restaurant, you also told me what price range you were offering. This is the only other choice in that range, not counting the Chinese restaurant two blocks away, which I dislike even more than the Vietnamese place."
I wasn't quite sure what to make of everything she had said. She was being even kinder than I had realized, and my heart did a little pitter patter, thinking about everything that implied about the type of person Julie was.
"We-" I was now embarrassed. "We can go somewhere else," I said. "I'm on a budget, but I can afford to take you someplace nicer."
"This is nice," she said. "I come here for lunches sometimes, when I can't take any more of the cafeteria food. The food is very good, and there's always a place to sit. Without reservations, we won't get into any of the other restaurants at 6:45 on a Saturday night." She reached out and took my arm again, pulling me towards the counter. "I'll show you what I like."
We collected trays and stepped through the lines, ordering our sandwiches and making a salad at the salad bar. The server gave us a little sign with our order number on it, and I paid for our dinners. Julie and I found a table in back and sat down, facing each other.
We made small talk, getting to know each other. Julie was a sophomore, a year older than I was.
"May I expose my ignorance?" I asked her.
She laughed. "Sure."
"What is your ethnic heritage?"
"Japanese," she said. "I was born here, but my parents are Japanese citizens, so I carry dual citizenship. When I was born, my parents were middle managers for Sony, working here, but they have since returned to Japan."
"Your English is perfect. No accent at all."
"I have lived here far more than Tokyo," she said. "I spent the first twelve years of my life here, then moved back to Tokyo until coming back for college."
"So you must speak Japanese."
"Japanese and English fluently and passable French."
"Would you say something to me in Japanese?" I asked her.
She smiled, thought for a just a moment, smiled some more, and began talking to me in Japanese. I didn't understand a word, but listening to her speak was absolutely beautiful. I hung on every word, and she looked intently at me while she was speaking. Finally she finished, smiling.
"That was beautiful," I told her. "What did you say?"
"I'm not telling," she said. "But if you secretly speak Japanese, I am going to be very, very embarrassed."
I laughed. "I don't, but now I am more curious than ever."
"Your curiosity must remain unsatisfied," Julie said.
At that point the server arrived with our sandwiches, and we ate quietly for a moment. It was just a sandwich, but it was really good. The sandwiches were big, and neither of us was able to finish.
"With the salads and the amount we ate, we could have shared a sandwich," I observed.
"Saving you a little money?" she asked.
"No. I hate to waste food."
"Me too," she said. "But look at me. I'm tiny. And American restaurants serve such large meals. If I ate even half, I would be as round as a beach ball."
I smiled at the image. We talked about nonsense things for a while before she asked me, "Do your parents know you're gay?"
"Mom does," I said. "My father died several years ago."
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said.
"It was hard," I told her. "And I miss him. Mom was really nice about it when I told her last spring. She told me she wants to be happy, and she helped me buy this dress, knowing it was for our date tonight."
"It's very becoming," she said. "My parents don't know. I don't even want to think what would happen if I told them. Being six thousand miles away helps."
We talked for a while longer before deciding it was time to walk to the gallery. I helped Julie into her coat and offered my arm. She smiled up at me, and she looked so amazingly beautiful I wanted to kiss her right there in the restaurant.
The gallery had a coat check, and I took care of Julie's coat before offering my arm to her again. She smiled as she took it then waited for me to lead her amongst the art that was on display.
The gallery wasn't packed, but there were quite a few people there. Many were drinking wine, although neither Julie nor I were of drinking age. I asked if she wanted a soft drink, but she declined.
The display that night was a mixed opening for three different artists. Two of the artists were painters and one was a sculptor. I didn't care for the paintings. I actually didn't understand them. Julie seemed to have more appreciation for them, and we looked at each piece before moving to the sculptures.
The sculptures I loved. They were made from alabaster, which I thought fascinating. Most of the pieces were small and were individually presented on pillars, raising them to a comfortable viewing height. Three pieces were larger and were of mixed media: a wood structure with alabaster details. They were all exquisite, and I would have loved to own any of them.
"Are they for sale?" I asked Julie.
"Yes," she said. "But I doubt either of us can afford them. But perhaps we can meet the artist?"
"Is he here?" I asked, looking around.
"She," Julie corrected. "Yes." She turned us around, and I saw a small group of people talking about one of the larger pieces. We stepped over and listened in on the conversation.
A tiny woman with a British accent thanked the other people, who wandered off, and she turned to us, sticking out her hand. "Kitty Davis," she said.
"Julie Watanabe," Julie said, shaking hands with her. "This is Emily Stark. We were admiring your pieces, and Emily wanted to meet you."
"That's very sweet," Kitty said, offering her hand.
I noticed immediately her hands were rough but strong and firm. The next thing I noticed was when she looked me up and down appraisingly then offered Julie a similar inspection. We all smiled at each other.
The moment passed, and I said, "I didn't realize people still worked in alabaster."
"It's not the same as the ancients used," Kitty explained. "And actually, it's a new medium for me."
"Do you like it?"
"Yes," she said. "It's soft and very easy to work. It gives me options other materials don't, and it's such a beautiful material."
We talked for another minute or so before excusing ourselves. Kitty insisted on giving us business cards before she released us with quick hugs.
We toured the gallery once more, spending less time in front of the paintings this time but admiring the sculptures. We each picked our favorites, but when I overheard one customer talking to the gallery owne
r about buying a piece, I knew I couldn't afford one.
Finally we returned to the coat check. I helped Julie into hers, donned mine, and we stepped outside. It was then I realized I didn't have any remaining plans for us, and I didn't remotely want the evening to end. It was still young.
I glanced over at her, and she was watching me with a small smile. She was so perfect. I could get lost in her eyes and that smile. I desperately wanted to reach out and caress her check before running my fingers through her black, black hair.
"Would you like to window shop for a bit?" I asked her, gesturing towards the shops lining the street.
"Yes," she said. "I would like that very much." We turned to our right and began walking down the street, stopping in front of the closed shops lining Main Street, eyeing the contents. There wasn't anything I wanted to buy; I simply wanted to spend more time in Julie's company.
But all too soon we were back at my car. I looked at her, dismay in my face, but she reached up and caressed my cheek. I settled her in the passenger seat before climbing behind the wheel and setting off for her dorm.
I walked her to her room. When we reached the door, she turned towards me, studying my face for a moment. "Would you like to come in?" She asked.
"Yes!"
She giggled at my exuberance before opening the door. I slipped in, and she turned her back to me. It took a moment before I realized I was to help her with her coat. She removed her shoes and slipped on a pair of slippers. There was a second pair sitting out, much larger than the ones she was wearing. "These perhaps are your size," she said.
I smiled and changed out my shoes for the slippers. They were indeed my size. Then she took my hand and led me the rest of the way to her room.
She gestured to a mat on the floor. " I would like to make tea for you."
"Tea?" I asked.
"Sit," she said. "Yes. If you are to spend more time with me, you must learn to drink tea."
I took my shrug off and draped it over the back of her desk chair before sitting down on the map. I watched as she began her preparations.
"Am I to spend more time with you?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "I like you, and you will not be able to resist me."
She was smiling while she said it, and I couldn't decide if she was conceited or making a joke. Although it was entirely true. I was drowning in her smiling eyes.
After that, she explained about the tea. "I can not heat the water properly here and must use this device of the heathens," she said, pointing to her electric kettle. "Grandmother would be horrified at what I am doing," she said. "But we are in modern America, not ancient Japan."
"So this is more than just tea?"
"Tonight it is just tea," she explained. "There are very elaborate tea ceremonies, but this is just tea."
She glanced over to me.
It suddenly occurred to me that she had planned to invite me for tea. She'd set out slippers in my size.
"Do you have everyone who comes to your room put on the slippers?"
She glanced over at me. "No. But my culture is important to me."
"I am honored you are sharing it with me."
"I am not terribly traditional," she said. "But there are portions of Japanese culture I find very beautiful."
I was sitting on the floor with my feet stretched out in front of me, leaning back on my hands. "Please do not sit like that," she told me. "Please tuck your feet underneath you, either to the side or cross legged."
"I'm sorry," I said, immediately pulling my feet to the side, tucking them underneath me slightly. "Better?"
"Yes."
She finished making the tea, setting everything on a tray and bringing it over. She sat down very gracefully, mirroring my position and setting the tray between us. She offered me one cup before taking the other. We stared at each other over the rims of our cups as we took sips.
We drank our tea in silence, our eyes never leaving each other. I could have looked at Julie all night. She was lovely and amazingly graceful. I felt awkward around her, but surprisingly didn't care.
We finished our tea. Julie collected everything and returned them to her desk. She turned back to me. "I believe that is enough of an introduction to Japanese customs tonight," she said. "Now we should engage in an American custom. Please stand."
I climbed to my feet. "What custom is that?" I asked her.
Julie took my hand, pulled me towards her bed, then pivoted around me and shoved me onto the bed. She was so small she wouldn't normally have been able to do it, but she caught me by such surprise that I tumbled onto the bed. She followed me immediately, climbing over me so she was straddling me.
"Making out," she said, answering my question before lowering her lips to mine.
The first kiss was sweet and exquisite. In spite of the aggression she'd suddenly been showing, she gave me a chance to think about what was going on. It was an amazing kiss, and my brain was filled with a very small number of thoughts. "Oh my god," and "Yes!" were the most prevalent.
I was lying flat on my back, my legs still dangling off the edge of the bed, and Julie was on top of me, straddling me with her legs, her hands on either side of my head supporting her weight. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around her.
Julie controlled the kiss, eventually breaking it. I opened my eyes to look at her, her face inches above mine. She was smiling as she looked at me. I pulled on her, hoping for another kiss. She resisted for just a moment, then let me pull her to me.
Our second kiss was much hotter than the first. Julie's tongue flicked against my lips. I had never French kissed anyone before, but my lips parted in surprise, and she slipped her tongue into my mouth. It was perhaps the most intimate moment of my life up to that point, and I was hit with an overwhelming mix of surprise and desire.
Then her tongue withdrew, and she peppered me with a series of short kisses around the edges of my mouth before leveraging herself above me again. She sat back on my legs, still looking down at me and smiling. "Normally I'm the one on the bottom, "she said. "But I think I like it this way at least as much." Her tone and expression changed. "You haven't done this before."
"No."
"Too much?"
I smiled. "No. More?" I reached for her, but she captured my hands and pushed them against the bed.
She looked at me critically. "Slide up," she said. "That doesn't look comfortable." She lifted her weight off of me, and I slithered backwards up the bed until I was resting in the pillows. Julie followed then lowered herself against me.
"Just to be clear," she said. "We're keeping our clothes on tonight. All right?"
I nodded, and she leaned down and kissed me again. It was another sweet kiss, much like the first. She broke the kiss, then immediately launched into another deep kiss, pressing her entire body into mine. I felt her breasts against mine, and I reached for her again, holding her tightly. My entire body was tingling with need, a need that was felt most deeply at my center, but spread out through every nerve I owned.
When Julie ended the kiss, we were both panting, and I knew I was flushed. She kissed my nose, then settled down on her side next to me, resting her head on my shoulder, her body stretched out next to mine with one leg thrown over mine. She began caressing my face.
I reached for her, wanting to return the favor, but she said, "No, relax. Just feel for now."
"I want to touch you, too."
"Soon."
She caressed my face and my neck, twined her fingers in my hair for a moment, and just touched, touched, touched. Then she stretched up and caught the corner of my mouth with her lips for a quick kiss.
Her hand moved down, first playing at the V of my dress, her fingers playing with the skin she could find. She flattened her hand and cupped a breast. I squirmed. With her hand resting there, she asked, "Is this all right, Emily?"
"Yes, Julie," I said. It was all deeply overwhelming, but I knew one thing. No way did I want her to stop.
I looked ove
r at her. "When may I touch you?"
"Shhh," she said, placing fingers over my mouth for a moment before they moved back to my breast. "I am showing you what I like."
She touched me, kissed me, caressed me. Her hands roamed from my hip to my head, touching, touching, touching. The effect was exquisite, and I felt as if I was falling under a magical spell.
It felt so right, everything she did felt so right.
Then she began talking to me. "Some girls get frantic, wild," she said. "Excited is good, but I like to be treated gently and carefully. I wouldn't have wanted to be pushed onto the bed, but I was feeling playful. And normally I'd wait for you to lead, but I wanted to do this, and if I let you lead, I might not even have gotten a proper goodnight kiss."
She caressed my lips with her fingers and let me kiss them.
"It's nice to touch," she said. "And perhaps it is nice to be touched?"
"Yes," I said, breathlessly. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"
She giggled. "Yes, I think I do."
I squirmed and she giggled again.
Then her hand stilled, and she cuddled into me more thoroughly, her hand coming to a rest on my breast, not moving.
I turned my head and opened my eyes to look at her. She was watching me, smiling softly. I raised my hand, reaching for her slowly. I stopped, my hand inches from her cheek. She nodded, just once, and closed her eyes. I touched her cheek, cupping it, my fingertips just touching her ear. I moved my thumb, brushing the corner of her mouth, and her lips parted slightly.
I slipped my hand to the back of her head, running my fingers into her hair, tickling the back of her neck for a moment, then slipped my hand down to the bare skin of her arm. I brushed her arm, then her side, reaching down to her hip. I was tempted, sorely tempted to caress her ass.
But she hadn't touched mine, so I thought perhaps hers was off limits. Instead I slid my hand along her back, right to the small of her back, and brought it back up to her shoulder. Her lips quirked upwards for a moment.
When I rolled her onto her back, she let me. She squirmed for a moment, getting comfortable, and then I began touching her again.
I kissed the corner of her mouth and caressed her face. I kept touching, touching, not quite brave enough to touch her breast. When my hand stilled, resting on her hip, she opened her eyes and looked at me.