So today, I decided to write something a little lighthearted. There has been a lot of bad news lately, and it takes a toll on me sometimes. I thought this morning, I’d get on here and blog about something serious. But this story of innocence came to mind, and I liked where it went. Sometimes we all need a break from the seriousness of life. Enjoy.
The bottle spun on the wooden table. My stomach lurched as it came to a stop on Bennett. I’d never kissed a boy before, and here in this dark basement room, the other kids jeered and cheered.
“KISS HER!” they shouted.
“Holly and Bennett sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G–” Bracey Stacy said.
“Shut-up Stacy,” Bennett said.
He leaned over the table and placed his lips on mine. I hands felt sweaty and my heartbeat thundered in my ears.
“Tongue, do it,” Bracey Stacy said.
His lips felt warm, and I opened my mouth just a smidge. His tongue darted in, and it felt wet and slimy like one of those goldfish you win at the fair. I held my eyes shut as his tongue explored my mouth. I ventured into his mouth with my tongue, feeling his molars, and tasting his breath. It felt like we kissed forever. And then I moaned, and the whole room burst out in laughter. My eyes flew open, and I could see every pore and pimple on Bennett’s face.
“Damn, get a room guys,” Mitch said as Bennett pulled away.
I blinked, and put my hands on my lap, squeezing them together until my pale skin turned bright pink as I sat back in my seat.
Bennett’s blue eyes stared at me from across the table, and he gave me a half-grin.
“Okay, next,” Bracey Stacy said.
Silence descended as the bottle spun again. Bracey Stacy looked hopeful, but the bottle never landed on her. It landed on Bennett and me three more times.
“We should do Seven Minutes in Heaven,” Bennett said after the last spin.
Ridiculously, images of angels and gospel music filled my naïve thirteen-year-old mind. I could almost see the pulpit and Father Roy up there preaching to the ladies in their Sunday best.
“Okay,” I said.
He stood up and walked over to me. I stared up at him in wild adolescent wonder. This good-looking, blonde, 5’7”, fourteen-year-old liked little old me. He placed his hand in mine. Skin-on-skin, I could feel the calluses decorating the palms of his hand. My hands felt sweaty and I worried he would pull away. But he held on tight, and he led me to the closet. I looked back at the kids gathered around the table staring at us with looks of astonishment as we headed into uncharted territory.
Mitch and the other boys stood up and set the timer on the clock radio.
“Turn on the T.V.,” Bennett said.
“Why? You don’t want us to hear you go smoochy-smoochy?” Mitch asked with a laugh.
Five minutes ago I hadn’t even kissed a boy.
The closet smelled of mothballs and sweaty old tennis shoes. I pushed toward the back as Bennett pulled the door close. Total darkness descended upon us.
“What are we doing in here?” I whispered.
“Where are you?”
“In the coats—like Narnia.”
“We only have seven minutes.”
I felt his hand on my waist, and he pulled me close to him. I could feel his breath on my cheeks and see the white of his eyes. I wasn’t sure I’d ever been this close to anyone before. I could see the self-assured smirk on his face. And then his mouth was on mine, salty but sweet. Our tongues explored each other’s mouths. Bennett’s hand gripped my shirt, and his fingernails dug a little into my tender skin. He pulled away for a second.
“Can I touch you here?” he asked. But I couldn’t see what he referred to and his hands were on my chest before I knew it.
“Yes,” I said—an affirmation or an afterthought–I wasn’t sure which.
“Have you done this before?” I asked.
The dark seemed to be crowding in on us. Hadn’t it been seven minutes? It felt more like twenty.
“Never. I like you, Holls,” he said.
His hand felt my cheek. My heart thumped in my chest. I could push my way around him and leave the closet. But still, I liked the attention. I liked him. And I had agreed to go in there with him. I felt electricity between us and a stirring inside I’d never felt before.
“Is this what it feels like?” I asked.
“What?” His face was so close to mine, I could see his teeth and they seemed to glow white in the dark small space.
“I hope so,” Bennett said. “Now where were we?”
So when was your first kiss? How old were you?
I’ll share–I was thirteen and at Destin with some friends. I kissed a guy in his car, so he was much older. I don’t even remember his name. My first important kiss was with my high school boyfriend, when I was 16. And probably the most memorable one.
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