I Made You My First

by Threadgoode, Ciara

  His head dropped forward but then he smiled. “No, I don’t have any here, but I know where I can get some.” His blue eyes were now wide and excited as he stared into mine with curious enthusiasm.

  “Really,” I smiled, scrutinizing his eyes.

  He took my hand, playfully leading me to the living room, seating me carefully in an overstuffed chair. He pointed his finger at me and said, “Sit, I’ll be right back.”

  I laughed. “Okay.” And he disappeared.

  I sat in the chair looking around the room. This is not the room of a player, I thought, which is what I’d assumed Irish was. This was a homey, down-to-earth abode. Awards hung on one brightly-painted wall, and fluffy pillows rested on the matching sofa. Maybe I’d been totally wrong about him. Maybe I wouldn’t get hurt as I’d first thought I would. I was positive there was no way to describe what he was doing to me. No way to explain the way he made me feel. I’d decided in that moment to ditch my worries about Irish. I was embarrassed to admit that after my behavior on Judy’s patio, I was actually beginning to look more like a player than he had been. I laughed out loud at that.

  Just then he came through the door. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted red or white,” two bottles were tucked under his arm, “so I brought both.” I smiled.

  “Where’d you get those?” I asked.

  He gave me an evil grin and said, “You have to promise never to tell.” I smiled and nodded. “My brother’s house is just up the hill, and he has a cellar. But you can’t tell,” he said, giving me a broad grin and a chuckle.

  “This is from London’s house?” I asked.

  “No, actually it’s from Hayden’s. He’s the only one with a wine cellar.”

  Okay, I really didn’t know how many siblings Irish had. He’d left the door wide open for me to be nosey.

  “How many brothers and sisters do you have?” I asked, turning toward him, hoping for more details about him and his family. Instead, he stood in front of me, holding the two bottles, trying to get me to pick one. “White’s good,” I finally said.

  He started digging in a drawer, looking for a corkscrew, and then finally answered my question. “I have two brothers and one sister.” I sighed in defeat. He clearly wasn’t ready to share.

  “That’s cool,” I said quickly. He was struggling with the corkscrew, so I walked into the kitchen to help.

  I pressed my body up against his back and whispered softly, “I can help you with that if you’ll let me.” I felt his body go limp. I smiled teasingly and took the bottle from him. He gladly gave it up and watched me as I twisted the screw into the cork, and popped it out. I handed the bottle back to him. While he was pouring the wine into my glass, I discreetly stared at his face; no, I admired all of him really, secretly reevaluating the Irish I’d first met at the airport. He no longer seemed like a playful challenge, an intriguing piece to a game I’d never played; now he felt almost like a reward, like a trip to the ice cream shop after winning a softball game. Suddenly without warning, his eyes shifted from the glass to mine and I felt myself blush with the realization that I’d been caught ogling him. He just stood staring back at me for a long moment, in complete silence, as if he knew exactly what I’d been thinking. I felt embarrassed and extremely warm. I decided I liked it. I liked him knowing the way I felt.

  He handed me the glass and held out his hand, leading me back into the living room. My eyes were all over him as I tried to maintain some self-restraint. I watched the way he moved, studying his gestures. He guided me back to the chair I’d first sat in, and then sat down on the sofa across from me. At first we stared at each other. I finally gave him a sexy little smile and took a sip of my wine.

  “So, what do you want to do?” he asked. My eyebrows went up and he smirked, but didn’t turn away. He held my stare and repeated his earlier remark, “We can’t really do what I’d planned now, it’s too late, but I’m up for anything you want to do.”

  “Did you say anything?” I asked.

  He grinned nervously but quickly looked away, circling the room with his eyes. “I have games and a deck of cards somewhere,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs. His smile was relaxed, “Or, we can just talk.” I watched his expression change. He was a good host but he was on his turf and he was much more confident than he’d been at Judy’s. He looked very sure of himself. He seemed to be announcing to me, through his body language, that he was now in charge. It was somehow turning me on, so I just stared at him.

  Staring back, he stood up slowly and said, “Since we’re going to get comfortable now, may I take your shoes?” I watched him slide his shoes off and I reached down and stepped out of mine. He took them from me and set them by the front door. I took a sip of wine, watching him bend over as he set them down. He plopped back down on the sofa. I knew we had only hours before he’d be taking me back to Judy’s, so in that moment I decided to suggest a game Judy and I had created years ago.

  I wanted to know more about him. “Would you be up for a question game?” I asked. His eyebrows went up and he cocked his head, giving me a devilish grin.

  “Sure, what’re the rules of this game?”

  I smiled back at him. “The rules are easy. I ask a question and you answer truthfully. Then it’s your turn. And I answer truthfully.”

  He smiled, “How do I know if you’re answering truthfully?”

  I lifted the glass to my lips, taking a long sip before answering, “If you don’t want to be honest, just say you don’t want to play. We can play rummy,” I retorted. He looked at me suspiciously, and with an intense stare, accepted the terms. “Okay, we’ll both be honest, no matter what?”

  “Yep,” I agreed.

  “Who’s first?” he asked.

  “I’ll go first,” I grinned. “I’ll start off easy. What’s your full name?” I smiled, watching his face.

  He leaned back on the sofa, crossing his hands behind his head. “This is pretty easy, huh? I thought this would be tough.” He winked at me.

  “My full name is Irish Bryce Thompson and I’m twenty-five,” he added sarcastically. I smiled. It was my turn now and I knew he wasn’t going to be asking me my name, he already knew it so I prepared myself.

  “Okay,” he said, sitting straight up, leaning in toward me. Several feet lay between us, but he lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “Where did you learn to kiss like you do?” His eyes burned deeply into mine and his face became serious. My eyebrows rose.

  “Really, that’s your first question?” I rolled my eyes and smiled.

  “Well I could tell you my blood type now and spare myself question number two,” he added with a smart-aleck grin.

  I sat back in my chair and thought about my answer, just to mess with him a little. “Okay, I learned to kiss, mouth open, from Keith Okonski in the sixth grade. He also taught me how to play spin-the-bottle.”

  He smiled. It was my turn again and I wanted to ask something I really wanted to know, rather than embarrassing him. I leaned forward this time and stared him right in the eye. “How many women, and you can round it off if you need to, have you brought here before me?” I gave him my best sarcastic grin. To my surprise, he didn’t look flustered or uncomfortable. He actually looked calm.

  Looking me square in the face, he said, “Well, Jurnee, I can honestly and truthfully say that you’re the first woman I’ve ever brought here, excluding my mom and sister, that is.” His expression was honest and sincere.

  That wasn’t at all what I was expecting. I continued staring at his face for tell-tale signs. He looked like he was being honest.

  “Why?” I asked quickly before giving him any time to think about it.

  “Because this is my home and I consider it my sanctuary, not my playground,” he said.

  I was completely floored. I had to look away from him because I wasn’t sure what my face was showing. I was beginning to feel warm.

  “My turn,” I heard him say. I took a drink from my glass and looked
back at him head on. “If you could be anywhere in the world right this very minute, where would you be?” he asked, sitting back in his seat. I thought he was fishing, wanting me to say here, but I wasn’t sure. After my emotional day, I had to look away. The emotions of Aunt Jean’s call registered on my face, and I could feel my throat swelling up. My eyes were beginning to fill.

  “Whoa,” I heard him say. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He must have thought I was crying, because he was sitting on the arm of my chair before I knew it.

  “I’m not crying, Irish.” As I finished saying that, I felt an incriminating tear drop run down my cheek. He looked into my eyes, held my face, and gently kissed my forehead.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, pulling me tenderly into his chest. I was caught off guard by his caring gesture, maybe because it all happened so fast. I pushed into his body and relaxed every muscle, surrendering to his embrace.

  This feels so good, I thought. I remained there, staying very still in his arms, my face buried in his chest. We stayed that way for several minutes, gently rocking back and forth. I wasn’t sure of the time.

  He lifted my face gently. “I’m so sorry, Jurnee, I could’ve picked a hundred different questions and that was the stupidest one of all. Can we take a break from the game and go for a walk?” I nodded. “I’d like to show you something.” We stood up and he grabbed my coat as we headed for the front door. He held his hand out and we walked down the same path we’d come in on.

  I could see colorful lights ahead, through the trees. It was dark and they looked so bright they reminded me of the lights on a Ferris wheel. As we moved closer, I could see it was a huge fountain sitting in the middle of a pool, or a pond. The lights then looked more like a rainbow stretching out over the length of the water. We stopped at the edge of the pool and admired the colors.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “It’s a fountain and pool made for my grandmother. She was very colorful,” he said, looking at me with his handsome smile.

  “It’s lovely.”

  He bent down, feeling and splashing the water with his fingers, “It’s warm, feel.”

  I sat down Indian style, with my jacket in my lap. He sat beside me. I leaned in toward the water and could feel the heat drifting up toward my face. I dipped my hand in the fountain. It was as warm as bath water.

  “This is amazing,” I admitted. I wondered if it was the place he’d said he wanted to take me earlier, but I didn’t ask, I just sat quietly next to him. I felt his arm move across my back and his hand rested on my shoulder. I didn’t move, but just let myself enjoy his touch.

  Snuggling in closer to him, I asked, “Irish, may I ask you something?”

  He put his head on the side of my face. “Jurnee, you can ask me anything.” I couldn’t see it but I felt his smile. After a few seconds, he lifted his head and looked at me, letting me know I had his full attention. I took a deep breath.

  I wasn’t sure if I was going to like his answer, so I prepared myself. “What did Judy tell you when she called you today? I guess I’m really asking why you went to the bay to get me. Was it because you felt sorry for me?” I exhaled. There, I’d said it. I watched his face. He turned his whole body toward me and stared.

  I know it was only seconds, but it felt like minutes before he said anything. “Jurnee, I didn’t feel sorry for you,” he held my hands and continued staring at me. “I wanted to spend time with you today and honestly, when you said you were going with your girlfriends to the bay, I was really bummed. I started questioning whether you were really going with your friends or you just didn’t want to see me.”

  I wondered in that instant how he could not know I was crazy about him. Hadn’t I given him plenty of signs? I wanted to stop him. I wanted to explain what he was doing to me. I really wanted to apologize for not being any good at relationships. But I didn’t. I wasn’t sure how to start.

  “When Judy called me, she sounded upset. I was really worried about you, Jurnee. I hated thinking you were hurting. If I felt anything, it was concern for you, and I wanted to know what I could do to help.” He smiled at me and I smiled back, giving his hand a soft squeeze.

  I remained still for several moments and then I reached out for his shoulders, and slowly pulled him down on top of me. He complied gladly and was on his hands and knees, hovering over me. “Thank you for coming for me today,” I whispered. He looked into my eyes and smiled. I could feel my heart melting inside my chest.

  He leaned down, kissed me on the forehead and said, “Anytime, Miss Sampson, anytime.” I lifted my head up for a kiss on the lips, but he rolled me over, pulling me until we were both on our sides. We lay there, staring at each other for a long time.

  “Tell me about your dream,” I finally said.

  His eyebrow rose and he sat up on his arm and gave me a sexy grin. “Um, I’m not sure that now is a good time to be talking about that. It could very well get us into trouble.” He smiled, touching my nose lightly with his finger.

  “Well I had a dream of my own and I’ll gladly tell you mine if you’ll tell me yours,” I giggled.

  “You had a dream?” he asked. I could tell that I had his interest. “What was your dream about exactly?” He was looking at me in anticipation.

  “I’m sorry, Irish, I could show you but I’m unable to tell you. It’s rated X and with me being a lady and all,” I gave him a naughty grin just to mess with him. In reality, my dream would have been lucky to get a GP rating, but he didn’t know that. He rolled over on his back, crossing his arms above his head. I stayed on my side but scooted up against him, leaning over him. He looked frustrated, but not the same frustrated I was going for. I kissed the side of his face lightly, and then lifted up to look at him. He lay there staring at me. I leaned back in and kissed his neck, slowly, lingering, leaving a trail of wet kisses from top to bottom. Again I lifted myself up and his eyes instantly flicked up to meet mine.

  A smile formed on his lips and he said, “You’re so incredibly sexy.”

  “Why thank you, sir, you aren’t so bad yourself,” I whispered. He looked like he was going to say something, but I really wanted to be the one to initiate what might happen then. I wanted to be the aggressor. “Irish, please,” I begged, “I want you.”

  Instantly he was up on his elbows, turning his body toward me. “Jurnee, you have no idea what you’re doing to me.” His face was suddenly serious, and with a sense of urgency he carefully pushed me onto my back. He was on me in an instant, pressing himself against me. He took my arms and pinned them above my head and attacked my mouth. Adrenaline or passion, I’m not sure which, pulsed hard through my veins. I kissed him back roughly, and began thrusting my tongue in and out of his mouth, trying to show him what I wanted. I wanted him to take me and I wanted him to do it right then. Suddenly he released my arms; he slowly and unexpectedly sat up, and realizing the position we were in, became silent.

  Looking into my eyes he said, “Jurnee, I can’t do this. Not like this.” I felt him crumble down next to me. I tried to catch my breath. My heart was pounding fiercely.

  Looking at the sky, I tried to find words, “Is it that you can’t do it here at your house or do you mean with me?” I heard the pathetic tone in my words.

  He rolled onto his side and I felt his hand searching for mine. “Jurnee, I want to make love to you and hold you in my arms all night. I’ve thought about nothing else for more than two years. You’re the only person that I would make love to, here, but I want to make love to you when we don’t have someone waiting for us or listening to us. I want to wake up next to you. I want it to be special, something that we’ll look back on as one of the best days of our lives. This isn’t just a hook-up, Jurnee, not for me anyway.” I couldn’t speak; I had no words. I really wanted to apologize for my behavior.

  I felt a warm tear roll down my cheek, then his finger on my face. I lay there mentally playing back his words. He wasn’t judging my behavior and he’d said the L word
three times; I’d counted.

  He was leaning his face into mine and I could see his eyes looking sweetly at me.

  “You don’t have any idea how incredibly difficult it was to make myself stop, do you?” His smile was apologetic. I reached for his hand and placed it between my legs. Irish’s eyebrow flew up and he gave me the most puzzled look.

  “Just leave it there for a minute,” I warned. He was not only confused but began rubbing the inside of my thigh, softly up and down. I smiled at him. “Now maybe I’ll be able to get past first base in my dreams, at least.” I laughed with him.

  He kissed my lips. “I promised to get you home,” he whispered.

  “I know.”

  Judy had already gone to bed when I got home the night before. She was working three days a week for a law firm downtown. She wanted to be a paralegal when she grew up. She’d already graduated and was doing an internship.

  I envied her for knowing what she wanted to do. I still had no clue. I’d graduated from college when my parents passed, and I was in North Carolina six months after that. Other than some sporadic babysitting jobs, I’d pretty much just hung out with my aunt and uncle. Aunt Jean loved to sew and make patchwork quilts. That was one of the few things she could still do. We spent a good amount of time just talking and sewing. When the weather was agreeable, she sat on the porch in her wheelchair and instructed me on the way to tend to her flowers and garden. Because she had several nurses to help her with the biggest part of her day-to-day care, I felt as if I got the best part of her. I loved to sit and listen to stories about her and my mom when they’d been young. I’d heard many of her stories several times but I never tired of hearing them again. My aunt was a great storyteller. She could never replace my mom, but she held a special place in my heart and I loved her dearly.

  A note was propped up against the coffee pot. I poured a cup, grabbed the note and went out to the patio. Need to pick up my car after work today. Call me if you need anything. Love ya, Judy, and P.S. You still snore!