by Michael Cart
We were friends. We still are, but more than that now. Soon to be lovers. I always thought I might be lesbian, but once I met Jesi I was one hundred percent certain.
She’s thinking. Processing, processing. Come on, Nicolle. I take her hand to bring her back to me.
I squeeze Jesi’s hand. We had an instant connection. We could talk. Really talk. We talked about wanting to be in love, the kind of love that’s everlasting. What were the odds? A million to one.
I raise her hand to my lips and kiss it. I search her eyes for doubt. Because if she still has doubts, we should wait. I don’t want her to ever regret this.
We laughed. That was the thing. We laughed so easily with each other. About stupid stuff. Suddenly the whole world was absurd. A guy riding a bicycle stopped next to us on a street corner one Saturday and he had a Snugli strapped to his front. We were on our way to the cineplex, waiting for the light to change, and he was balancing on his bike, cooing and tickling his baby. Jesi and I glanced over at the same time and saw what was inside the Snugli. An iguana. When the light changed and they took off, Jesi met my eyes and we burst into laughter. We laughed so hard, we had to hold each other up to keep from collapsing. That was the first time we hugged.
Her eyes are twinkling, like she’s going to lose it. If you laugh, I’ll laugh and we’ll never be able to do this.
She has this explosive laugh that shakes her whole body. Even when she isn’t around, her laughter rings in my ears. Just knowing I’ll hear it every day makes me smile.
Maybe if I start. Get her going. I could kiss her eyes, her lips, her neck.
Her lips are so soft and sweet. Over spring break a group of us from senior senate decided to go on this raft trip with Outward Bound. Jesi signed up with a club from her school. We’d never met, but when she said hi to me, I felt this hitch in my stomach. Oh God, Jesi. When you kiss me like that…
I lift her hair and kiss the back of her neck.
The trip was four days of white-water rafting on the Green River and camping on shore and nature hikes. I silently cheered when Jesi got teamed in a raft with me. The first rapid was supposed to be easy, but there’d been heavy spring runoff. The night we arrived there was an unexpected cloudburst, so even though we had scoped the rapid, by the time we paddled to the edge and prepped for our run, the water level had risen. The river raged.
She’s here, then gone. “Where are you?” I ask.
“What? Oh. The raft trip.” I turn and smile at her. “How I saved your life.”
Why is she thinking about that now? Our raft got sucked into a sinkhole. It crumpled in half and I got pitched into the river. It was freezing. I panicked. The force pulled me under and I couldn’t breathe. If we got dumped, we were supposed to keep our feet in front of us pointing downriver, but I was flailing around and choking. I felt arms around my waist, then a push upward toward the raft and a body underneath me.
It was Nicolle.
Nicolle saved my life.
“I got into so much trouble with the guide for jumping in the river after you. Remember that?”
“No. You did?”
“Yeah, after we knew you were going to be okay. Then he reamed me royally.”
“Thank God you saved me. If you hadn’t, you might be a virgin forever.” She laughs quietly. Her foot is tapping now. “Hey,” I say. “I love you.” She’s the best friend I’ve ever had. I kiss behind her ear, under her jaw. She shivers.
I can’t believe I found Jesi, my soul mate. We’ve come so far.
I trust her with my life. “Nic,” I say quietly.
“Don’t be nervous.”
“I’m not.” I’m terrified.
I can’t stand it. I lean over and hold down her knee. My lips press to hers, gentle at first, then urgent. She responds. This is going to happen. It is.
I love to kiss her.
She’s so beautiful.
She relaxes in my arms. I comb my fingers through her soft hair, and her arms glide around me.
At night we’d sit around the campfire, roast marshmallows, and tell ghost stories. Jesi and I would seek each other out to sit together, talk quietly, or stuff marshmallows into each other’s mouths. If we couldn’t sit together, if we were forced to mix it up, we’d make faces or roll our eyes. Like, This ghost story’s lame-o. Bloody Mary, eek! We’d crack each other up. Everyone wondered, I’m sure, what was so funny. Nothing. Life. We’d hang out after the others went to bed and talk. For hours and hours just talk. Talk and laugh.
She’s off again, her eyes glazing over. I clamp her face between my hands. Do you feel my crushing need? If she thinks too long about it, we’ll lose the moment. I want to reassure her. I’m here, Nicolle. I’ll always be here. If we drown, we drown together.
We weren’t supposed to wander out alone in the wilderness, but we had to get away from everyone. We found a cave in the side of the mountain. Against the cave wall we sat in the dark, discussing books and movies and music and places in the world we wanted to go. Jesi longed to find a place on earth where no human had ever set foot. Unspoiled. Like us.
I slide my hands down her arms and she trembles under my touch. I know we both want this so bad. We’ve been waiting, being good, being patient.
Waiting to be sure.
We pretended we were the first two humans to enter our cave.
I slip my hand under her shirt and she inhales a sharp breath.
Oh God, Jesi. In the cave with our arms touching, our natural warmth seeping through our windbreakers. Jesi looped her leg over mine and I crooked my arm in hers. She whispered in the dark, “I’ve never felt this close to anyone—ever.” I breathed, “Me neither.”
My hand crawls over her bra in front and I press my palm to her heart. It’s beating fast.
I love her touch. I love he feel of her skin on mine.
Her lungs fill and her breasts expand. A shallow breath escapes. Yes, Nicolle. Give in to the feeling.
I breathe her in, and fly. After that, if we weren’t together, we were on our cells. I call her the moment I get up in the morning, or if she’s up first she calls me.
I whisper in her ear, “I want you. I love you, Nic.” She lifts her chin and I cradle her face in my hands. I close my eyes and kiss her like the first time.
Our first kiss, in her room after school. We’d sprawled on the floor and were sorting through old CDs, laughing and joking. Our heads touched and we both stopped laughing. We looked at each other and held each other’s gaze. The urge to kiss was so powerful, so overwhelming.
My tongue touches hers and I want to jam it in her mouth. Push her down and—Slow. Slow down. It’s taken an eternity to get to where we are tonight and I don’t want to screw it up. We’re in love. This is right for us, now, at this time in our lives.
The deep kissing we’ve been doing, the touching and stroking, it’s all been a prelude.
She lifts my T-shirt in back. I feel both of her hands on my bare skin and it sizzles. We’ve done this before. We’ve felt every part of each other. Yes, Nicolle. Surrender.
She makes me melt. The way she braids my hair in cornrows, the tingle beginning at my scalp and spreading all the way down to the tips of my toes. It’s sensual anyway, when somebody plays with your hair, but this escalating tension and sense of excitement ripples through my body.
Still! She’s still processing. Why? She drives me crazy. From that first kiss, we knew. God. I knew, anyway. Our eyes lock and hold. It’s time, Nicolle. No more longing. No more stopping when we want to go on.
Jesi says…nothing, but her eyes speak her love. As I pull up her shirt, we stand together by the bed.
My fingers fumble her buttons and she tries to help, but I nudge her away. I want to do it. It takes me forever. Six buttons.
Stupid, I think. Why didn’t I wear a T-shirt like she did?
Hurry. Last button. I ease the shirt down off her shoulders, where one of the buttons gets stuck on her bra clasp. “Shit.”
A laugh
lodges in my throat.
I clap a hand over her mouth. Don’t giggle.
I have to slide the shirt back up over my shoulders to free the button. My shirt falls to the floor on top of Jesi’s T-shirt and we’re standing face-to-face in our bras.
I unfasten Nicolle’s bra in front as she’s undoing mine. Hers pops open and releases her breasts.
I gentle Jesi’s bra down her arms and off. Her breasts are smaller than mine, perfect. I want to…
My fingers graze Nicolle’s arms and it raises goose bumps on her skin. I can’t take my eyes off her breasts. They’re, like, three times the size of mine. I bend down and kiss one, then the other.
Stop. Don’t stop. My nipples are already hard from exposure to air, the sudden spike in temperature, or excitement, or anticipation.
I pinch her nipple lightly between my thumb and index finger.
I squeal a little, an involuntary yip.
I do the other one.
God. I want to grab her wrists and pull her hands away, but the pleasure is excruciating. Her fingertips circle my nipples. She lowers her head again.
I kiss her left nipple. Then the right.
Oh my God. Torture. Pleasure/pain. I clutch her waist and pull her to me. “I love you,” I expel in her hair.
“I love you too.”
I hold on to her for equilibrium. For ballast.
I breathe in and she breathes out.
I’m so in the present now, here in Jesi’s room. We’ve planned this for weeks. I’ve lit all the candles.
Her spine is straight and stiff. I run my hands up along either side and she arches her back.
I copy her moves. She has taut, smooth skin. I can feel her ribs.
We run our hands along each other’s sides and arms and waists and hips.
My hands spread across her bottom and she contracts her muscles.
Nicolle’s getting into it. Unzip my jeans, I think. Touch me there.
My hands find her breasts and I press them up from below. She’s moist, sweaty.
She’s holding up my breasts. She’s looking at them, licking her lips. Do it, Nicolle. Do it.
Her nipples are small and pink and puckered. With my hand, I guide one into my mouth.
My head falls back and I open my mouth to gasp.
Her fingers grip my arms as I nibble her.
I try not to cry out.
I pull back.
“Did I hurt you?”
“A little,” I admit.
I die. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” I say. “They’re just…tender. Kind of sensitive.”
“I won’t touch them.”
“Yes, you will.” I clamp her hands back on to my breasts.
I meet her eyes. Even in candlelight—especially in candlelight—she has the deepest eyes. Honest. Sincere. Teasing me now.
I widen my eyes at Nicolle before sliding her nipples between my fingers again and squeezing.
I jump through the ceiling. Please. In your mouth. We fondle and kiss each other. The voice inside says, “Move on, move down.” My right hand spreads across her stomach and over her jeans zipper and between her legs.
Oh yeah. A moan sits in my throat. I move my legs apart as my hand reaches between her legs.
I suck in a breath. I don’t know how long we do this, kiss and rub each other. Groan with pleasure. We’ve done this before.
I’m so hot for her. I unzip my pants. Let’s get to it.
Forget trying to take off each other’s jeans. We shimmy out separately and drop them in place.
At last we’re in bed together, naked. Well, not totally. Nicolle kept her underwear on, so I did too. Under the sheet, we kiss and hold our bodies against each other and intertwine our legs.
I don’t know if I should be talking to her, telling her how much I love her and how perfect and beautiful she is, or just try to keep breathing, keep my heart beating and blood pumping to my extremities and lungs because I’m panting and feeling hammered and lightheaded.
My hand slides between her legs and she jolts. I pull back.
“What? Don’t stop.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.” No stopping now.
I ease off her thong and she takes off mine. Our feet get tangled.
She kicks our underwear off the end of the bed and throws herself against me. Her hair drapes around my face like a veil. She plants kisses on my nipples and stomach, one thigh, then the other. She arcs into the air and she’s over me. Her hair hides her face, so I rake my fingers through it—long, thick, black hair—and bunch it behind her. I want to see her, watch her face.
My hand slides between us, between our legs, and finds her spot. She makes a high, squeaky sound. Her hand is there too, on me. I take her wrist and steer her away. “I want to do you first.”
I pause. “Don’t you want to come together?”
Yes. No. I want to tell her I’ve been reading up; that it’s hard to have orgasms together, but I don’t want to break the mood. Instead, I simply say what I feel: “I want it to be good for you.”
It already is. What do I do next? Just lie here? I don’t know how to do this.
The first time, I want it to be special for her. Memorable. It probably won’t be very good. What if it isn’t good? She’s nervous; neither of us has ever done it. She gazes into my eyes and I see her desire. It’s all I need.
I cup Jesi’s chin and draw her to me; I kiss her. Her lips are full and sweet. “Let me do you first,” I say.
“No.” I whip my hair around. “I’ve been dreaming of this moment and this is how I want to do it.”
With you. For you.
I’d been visualizing it too. More like obsessing. She kisses my shoulder, my neck, my breasts.
Wait. I freeze above her. What if…What if this changes things between us? Of course it will, but…Nicolle’s my best friend—I don’t want to lose that. If we’re lovers, can we still be friends? Oh my God.
Why didn’t we talk about this? We talked about everything but—
“Jesi, what?
Why did you stop?”
“I…you…” The words clog in my throat.
She looks at me, into me. I think—I know—Nicolle will always be my friend.
“I’m ready.”
I’m ready too.
She resumes the kissing and I close my eyes. Her tongue is on my stomach, in my belly button swirling around. She’s at my fringe. When she spreads my legs I’m so aroused all she has to do is kiss me there, flick her tongue across me a couple of times and I explode.
God, she’s coming.
Waves and waves of ecstasy and joy and shock pulse through my body and swell all my vessels and veins and I grab Jesi’s arms to pull her up.
I dig my head into her shoulder and press fingers into her to keep her orgasm coming. I feel the throbbing. I feel it.
It’s slowing, waning.
Too soon.
Short, concentrated bursts. She goes, “God.”
I’ll never feel this close to another human being.
I shut my eyes and open them; release the final spasm. “Jesi,” I say to her. “Wait’ll you feel that.”
“How long do I have to wait?”
I roll over on top of her and kiss her hard. I want to extend the experience, but I can’t. The tip of my tongue plays with her nipples and she whimpers. I kiss down her belly. I tease the hair between her legs until she raises her hips and opens her legs.
It’s starting.
The first feel on my tongue is…gooey. The smell is strong. Not gross, the way I feared. It smells natural. I want to stay and taste her more, but…
“Hurry.”
I drive my face hard into her. I take her in my mouth.
I’m on the verge, and then I can’t.
My eyes squeeze tight.
Everything squeezes.
Come on.
I suck her into me and hold on. Hold.
Breathe, I think.
Don’t think. Feel.
She’s tensing up or something. I let her go and she falls away. I spread her lips down there and lick her up and down. Around, inside.
Yes. Like that.
My tongue, my lips, my mouth on her.
Don’t stop.
Rhythm. Steady rhythm.
Keep going. Keep going.
How long should I—She arches.
“God, oh God.”
She screams. Her hands claw at my ears and I scramble up on top of her, lengthwise, my hipbone wedging between her legs. For pressure to keep it going.
She rocks and grinds me with her hipbone and I come again. I can’t stop.
“Jesi.”
“Baby.” I hold on to her as if my life depends on it. Because it does.
For a long time we lie together, holding each other, not speaking.
I need her. She’s my everything.
Feeling. I don’t know what she’s feeling. Rapture? Relief? We did it. We finally did it. The candle flames grow dimmer and I roll away from Jesi to blow out the last flicker of fire.
My eyes adjust to the dark. I see her clearly even in shadow. We trace each other’s faces, arms, the curve of our waists and hips. I want to know the shape of her, the smell and taste and touch of her. I need to memorize Nicolle so I can feel her every night beside me, inside me. Trust she’ll always be there.
“Jesi,” I say quietly. I tell her what I’m thinking. “Want to do it again?”
I smile in the dark. Oh yeah. And then she says what I’m thinking:
“Me first.” “Me first.”
We both start giggling.
DEAR LANG
BY EMMA DONOGHUE
Dear Lang,
Happy Birthday! This one’s a biggie: sixteen. Are you excited? You must be. Unless, of course, you’re the kind of eye-rolling adolescent who pretends not to be excited by anything. But I doubt that, somehow.
You’re probably learning to drive already: scary thought. For me, I mean, not for you. I still shudder to recall the time you rode your fire truck straight off the porch. Shrieks, hot tears springing out of your eyes, but once I brushed the gravel off, there wasn’t a mark on you. I guess it’s all about knowing how to fall.