by Davina Lee
“You did make me a mix tape.” We’re both still standing in the middle of the living room after the rigmarole of getting her phone paired with my soundbar, and I gaze into her eyes. “And you started it out with one of my favorite Boston songs of all time.”
“Shh, don’t tell the boys,” she says taking my hands in hers, “but it’s called ‘Foreplay’.”
I shudder. “Is that what this is, Mari? Foreplay?”
“Maybe.” She’s grinning madly now. “Is that what you’d like it to be?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, “I think so.” I let Mari take my hands in hers. If she feels them shaking, she doesn’t mention it. Suddenly it feels as if the temperature in the room has gone up by several degrees, not quite as hot as that dusty old attic, but close.
“I think I might need to sit down,” I say.
Mari leads me over to the sofa and we sit next to each other. She still hasn’t let go of my hands, something that I find reassuring and nerve wracking all at the same time.
“You okay?” she asks.
Mari has dropped one of my hands from hers in favor of moving to my neck. I feel her fingers weaving into my hair and it sends a little shiver coursing through me.
“You’ll tell me if it’s not, right?” she adds.
And as I nod, she pulls me in gently, closing the gap between us until our lips touch. There’s a lingering taste on Mari’s mouth after the popcorn and beer we shared during our movie and I can’t help but be transported back to the last time I tasted beer on her lips—that bonfire back in seventy-nine.
“What’s so funny?” she asks.
“What? Why?”
“You’re smirking,” she says. “I’m trying my best to seduce you and you’re smirking.”
“Sorry,” I say. “You taste like beer, and it reminds me of kissing you by the bonfire. You know, during our big senior year bash when…”
“Yes Amanda, I remember.” Mari levels a gaze at me, and the way her eyes are wavering I think she’s waiting for me to say something.
God grant me the courage, I think to myself. I wrap my arms around Mari and pull her in close like I’m afraid I might do something stupid and lose her again like all those other times I’ve been faced with those wavering green eyes of hers.
“Mari,” I whisper. “I know it was just one kiss. And it was high school, and we were both a little drunk, but I can’t stop thinking about it. And I think that—well—I think just maybe I fell in love with you a little bit that day. I’m sorry, that must seem kind of weird, like I’m some kind of…”
But I don’t get a chance to finish. Mari has me wrapped up in her arms and is slowly but steadily encouraging me to lean over until I’m no longer upright. I surrender myself to her, letting out a long languid sigh as she tumbles down on top of me.
“So, what do you want to do about it now?” she whispers as she nestles herself between my thighs. I feel her tongue take a swipe at my earlobe and gasp before my lips spread into a wide smile.
“This,” I say and pucker up. “This is good.”
Mari takes the hint and lowers her lips to mine. They still taste a little like beer, but that’s okay. They’re soft and warm and inviting. And Mari is taking her time as she perches on her elbows, giving me the space I need to fill my lungs before she dives in.
I part my lips as I feel her tongue seeking out an invitation and let her fill my mouth. I moan against her and shift my hips to find a more comfortable position. Finally, after all these years I get to feel what it’s like to know shy little Marianne in this way. To see where that kiss could have taken us.
I arch my back and tug at my dress so that it’s no longer trapped under my thighs and there’s that much less of a barrier between Mari and me. Mari has pulled my quivering lip into her mouth and the suction is making me shiver. I wrap my legs around her and slam her body against mine.
“Mari,” I heave. “I want you. God, I want you.”
Mari raises herself up onto her elbows and I relax the grip of my thighs. She’s got that wavering look in her green eyes again and I’m wondering what it is that I’ve said or done wrong this time. I stare blankly, my mouth open but not knowing what to say. Fortunately, Mari breaks the silence.
“Amanda,” she says. “Oh, how do I say this? You’re beautiful—God, you’re beautiful—and there’s nothing I’d like more, but it’s just…”
“Oh my God, Mari, are you chickening out? Really? After all this time?” I push her away and leave her on the couch, gasping like a fish out of water as I stand up. I grab the hem of my dress and pull it over my head in one quick motion and toss it to the side. Her mouth goes wide.
“I’m throwing myself at you, Mari.” I reach around and unfasten my bra, tossing it on the pile atop my dress. “I’ve been dreaming about this for years, and now you’re chickening out? I’m not having it. I won’t let you.”
I add my panties to the pile and turn to glare at her as I stand naked and defiant.
“Um,” she says. She’s trying to suppress a grin, I can see her mouth turning up at the corners. “I was just going to say maybe we should find someplace more romantic than the couch for our first time. I feel a little like I’m seducing you in the back seat of a car.”
“For crissakes’, Mari, I lost my virginity on the bench seat of a pickup truck. This is a step up for me.” I stare at her trying my best to keep a straight face, to be angry, but it’s not working. I bite my lower lip.
“My truck is parked out front if you’d rather…”
I can’t hold it in any longer and I let out a snort. “I’m sorry,” I say. “You must think I’m some kind of nutcase.”
“Actually, I was thinking that you’re some kind of beautiful.” Mari is sliding her index finger over the naked flesh of my chest and coming dangerously close to my nipple. She’s grinning madly now. “If I had known that this is what it would take to get you naked, I swear I would have pissed you off a long time ago.”
“Shut up,” I say. Her grinning is infectious and I feel a smile crossing my lips in spite of my embarrassment at overreacting. I still can’t quite meet her gaze. “If you want to go slow, that’s fine with me” I say. “I’d also like to point out that I do have a bedroom if you’re not into the whole couch thing.”
“Show me the way?”
I take Mari by the hand and lead her down the hallway.
* * * *
It’s been several days since Mari and I finally worked up the courage to jump between the sheets. She still calls and texts to let me know everything is alright with her, and with us, but she’s busy putting the finishing touches on her house and it takes up a lot of her time. I offer to help if it’ll make things go faster, but she assures me she’s got it under control.
Occasionally we’ll meet for lunch so I can see her face and know she still exists, but not at the taco truck, since it’s closed for the winter. I think about the direction things have been going with us and selfishly wish for her rehab project to come to a close and stop monopolizing all of her time.
I miss Mari, more than I thought I could miss someone. I miss her lips on mine, her warm breath on my neck, the way she gives me that scolding look when I do something for her and won’t let her help. I sigh and turn my attention back to alphabetizing the record bins. They’re looking pretty picked over, and most of the good stuff is missing, so it doesn’t take long.
I think about what I’m going to work on next and wander over to the children’s clothing rack. As usual they’re in serious need of attention. I’m halfway through the twelve-month onesies when my phone vibrates. I fish it out of my pocket and look at the text from Mari.
Dinner at my place? It says, I’ll pick you up.
Oh, my goodness, could it be that her project has finally come to an end, or is it just a break to let me know she’s still alive and she’s planning on us sharing a dusty table cluttered with power tools?
I text back a simple Yes and then start to wonder what
it is we’re going to be eating. Mari is far better at ordering take-out than she is at putting meals together in the kitchen. Want me to bring something? I fire off as I think about Mari’s fancy new kitchen countertops and appliances, and how little use they’re probably going to get with her living there.
Just your cute self, is her reply.
I send her a bunch of happy emojis.
When five o’clock rolls around I’m standing by the front door of the thrift shop like a high school girl waiting for her prom date. And when I see Mari’s truck pull up, I have to force myself not to burst out the door and sprint over to it.
Mari parks by the front and comes around to open my door for me. I try to remember the last time anybody else did that for me as I smile at her. I get a quick peck on my way in before Mari goes around to the driver’s side.
“I wish your truck didn’t have this big thing in the middle,” I say. “I’d love to be able to sit next to you and snuggle up. I feel like I’ve hardly seen you.”
Mari just smiles and reaches over to flip the center console into a jump seat configuration.
“Huh, I had no idea,” I say as I slide over and reach for my seatbelt.
“It’s not the most comfortable.”
“I don’t care.” I settle my head onto Mari’s shoulder as she points her truck out into traffic and takes us to her place. We make a brief stop for Chinese carry-out which does not surprise me at all, but soon we’re pulling into her driveway.
Mari insists on walking around to the front door so we can get the full effect of the remodel. As she fumbles with her keys under the shelter of the front porch, I drape my hands around her neck and pull her down for a kiss. I’m not inclined to let go anytime soon but Mari gently pulls away.
“Dinner first,” she says. “Then a tour. Then kissy-kissy. Okay?”
“Fine.” I give her my best pout as she turns the key in the lock and opens the front door.
Mari pushes the door open while muttering a little “Ta-da.”
“Oh, Mari.” I stand in stunned silence for a moment, and she practically has to drag me over the threshold. “It’s gorgeous.”
Mari closes the door and sets the sack with our dinner on the dining room table. I stand there in the living room scanning the area in front of me. The walls and ceilings are all painted a warm white that reminds me of fresh cream, and the floors have a nice glow of varnished oak that complements the darker color of the wide baseboards and door casings.
“The electrical’s been updated to a two-hundred Amp service,” she says, “and the plumbing is all PEX and PVC now, but I tried to keep everything else as close to original as possible.”
“I have no idea what you just said, but it looks amazing.” I stand with my eyes wide taking it all in.
“Hey, that’s the Tiffany floor lamp I said I liked. And the curtains too.” I study the rest of the room. “Wow, it’s like half of the décor in here is stuff I picked out.”
“You’ve got good taste. And it all fits the style of the house.”
I smile, slip my hand behind Mari’s neck, and give her a long kiss with some serious enthusiasm behind it. She takes my cheeks in her hands and runs her lips over my neck and up to my earlobe while I shudder almost constantly.
“Dinner first,” she whispers. “Then a tour. Then kissy-kissy. Okay?”
I let out a sigh, but resign myself to following her to the dining room with its hardwood trestle table and four matching chairs. I pull out a chair and sit down across from Mari. My stomach is happy with my decision, particularly now that Mari has opened the cartons and the smell of chicken and Chinese vegetables is permeating the air.
I look at the plate that she hands me. “Do you not have any original thoughts in your brain, Mari Hoffman?” I tease. “I swear this is the same china pattern I said I liked.”
“It fits the style of the house Mandy, just like the lamp and the curtains you seem bent on taking credit for. All very logical choices. Or did you think that this was all some sort of elaborate ruse I concocted to make you question your sanity?”
I honestly don’t know what to think. Her argument makes perfect sense, but I still think she’s up to something. Though it’s not like Mari has ever been good at keeping a straight face before, so maybe it is all just coincidental.
I lay my hand on top of Mari’s and give it a little squeeze before turning my attention back to Chinese take-out. This was good. This was enough. Me and Mari, and four cartons of Chinese food here in her beautifully restored vintage dining room.
Out of the corner of my eye I swear I see the corners of her mouth turning up.
When we finish, I help Mari collect the dishes and put away the leftovers. “Nice countertops,” I say looking around the little eat-in kitchen.
“Fits the style of the house,” she says. She’s fighting back a grin and not doing a very good job of it.
“I’ve heard,” I whisper in her ear before planting a kiss on her neck in the place that I know makes her knees turn to jelly. I back myself up to the counter and pull her with me, secretly hoping that she’ll toss me up there and hike up my dress to christen the new countertops.
“Dinner first. Then a tour,” she manages to croak out.
“I know, I know. Then kissy-kissy.” I drop my hands from where I had them perched on her shoulders, and reach around to take a swat at her rear end. “Put your tour guide hat on already. And we can skip the kitchen and dining room, I’ve already seen ‘em. I want my kissy- kissy.”
Mari snorts and breaks out into a grin that spreads from ear to ear. She steps back and takes my hand. “Come on,” she says.
Mari has apparently decided that I really do need my kissy-kissy, because she’s giving me the whirlwind tour of the rest of the house. “Back porch,” she says. “Boots, snowshoes, skis.” She continues on, in her brusque department store elevator operator fashion.
“Downstairs bedroom number one—guest accommodations, extra clothing storage. Downstairs bedroom number two—same thing. Downstairs bathroom—good for showers after kissy-kissy.” Mari is grinning madly as we scurry from room to room. “Living room—perfect for watching late night movies and making out on the couch.”
I toss my head back and laugh. Mari’s on a roll tonight.
“Also good for listening to vintage vinyl.” She opens a cabinet to reveal a turntable and about thirty some-odd LPs. They’re all classics from our high school days and they all look suspiciously familiar. The Beatles’ Abbey Road, Led Zeppelin, and more.
“Where did you find these? A certain thrift shop maybe?”
Mari’s not saying a thing. She won’t even look me in the eye. She just gestures to the turntable with a record already on it and the album cover sitting next to it. It has that familiar space ship logo of Boston’s debut album.
“Do you know how badly I wanted that damn album? And you’re the one who took it out from under my nose?”
“If it’s that important to you, you can take it home with you. Or…”
“Or what?”
“Or you can play the record anytime you’re here.”
She reaches over to lower the needle onto the spinning record and after a brief eruption of ticks and pops we are treated to the mellow sound of rock organ that builds before giving way to a crunch of guitar. It’s got no words, but it’s a good tune.
“What’s this song called?” I ask.
Mari takes my hand in hers. “It’s called ‘Foreplay’, baby.” She’s no longer grinning like a Cheshire cat. She’s looking into my eyes with that same wavering gaze I’ve seen before.
“Are you trying to seduce me again Mari?”
“Yes,” Mari gushes, “and—and maybe a little more than that.”
I peer into her green eyes, waiting for her to continue.
“You don’t have to take your record album home, Amanda.” She pauses as if collecting her thoughts. “And you don’t have to just come over to visit. You can…When you sell yo
ur house…If you want to…”
“Mari?” I say. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”
She says nothing, but she’s nodding vigorously.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I haven’t even gotten the upstairs tour yet.” I try to play it cool, but my heart is racing and my knees feel like they’re going to give out any minute now.
Mari smiles and slips her hand in mine. Together we make our way into what used to be the attic and is now the master suite. The transformation from the hot and dusty airless room where we shared that kiss is absolutely amazing.
There is now a three-quarter bath as well as a walk-in closet. The bare rafters are gone, replaced by insulated drywall all brightly painted and trimmed out. The drafty old single-pane windows have been upgraded to brand new energy efficient models and two skylights have been installed to let in more natural light.
Right now, the moon is shining down through one of those skylights and casting its beam over the big king-sized bed that dominates the center of the room. I move over and sit on the edge of the bed, eagerly pulling Mari along with me. She sits beside me.
“Is this memory foam?” I say, dragging my finger over the surface of the duvet cover.
She nods her head.
“Because it fits with the style of the house, right?”
Mari shakes her head and grins. “Because you liked it.”
“I knew it,” I say with glee.
“So, what do you say Amanda?”
I answer her question not with words, but by placing my hand behind her neck and touching my lips to hers. Mari’s lips are soft and her warm breath tickles my mouth as she sighs into me. I think we’ve both been waiting a long time for this encore moment, but there is no rush, just a simple invitation to explore.
I am not nearly as crass about it as I was the first time, but it doesn’t take me long to shimmy out of my dress and my underwear. And once again Mari settles between my thighs and I pull her in close. She seems to be fixated on my chest.
“See anything you like, hon?” I tease.
“Sorry, it’s just that—well your boobs are pretty fabulous.”