or too amped up on sugar.
so here i sit.
but i figure, if i can puke out enough words tonight, i'm off the hook for the morning.
it's so much easier to write when i'm surrounded by silence.
or music.
but not so much when i'm being interupted every sentence or two by the dearest ones.
which is fine, since they are the dearest ones.
but still.
wow.
i'm all dressed up with nothing to write.
what oh what oh what should i write?
maybe i'll tell a story from my past.
there was a guy...we met on the beach.
talked about sailboats and college.
his parents dragged him to maine on vacation.
i was home for the summer.
his white button down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up.
his dockers rolled up, toes in the sand.
my hair was in my face most of the time, the wind whipping around us.
the sun began to set, all the frazzled mothers with their sunburned children were gone.
the seagulls even seemed to know it was almost day's end.
the moment he touched my hand, the sun hit the water.
we kept talking.
his passion was road biking.
his major was business.
we laughed a lot.
his thumb tracing my wrist bones.
the islands on the horizon were on fire, then the colors all faded to black--or the indigo blue of the early night sky.
he let go of my hand, and reached to brush the flying curls back from my face.
he was nervous, but sure and i leaned into the kiss.
he tasted like cedar, and salt water.
his eyes stayed open, and he pulled me gently closer.
i was shy, still wondering if being a "good girl" would really be worth it in the end.
we kissed for so long my neck began to ache.
so i laid down.
his weight on me was warm and reasuring.
my desire increased, with my heart rate.
i finally let my hands wander, pushing thoughts of sin out of my head.
i could feel his muscles beneath his shirt and i grew warmer, more insistent.
he reached hesitantly under my shirt, and I moaned softly, guiding his hand higher.
i refused to think, to be deterred by my conscience.
he pulled his shirt over his head, and i followed suit.
the feel of his skin on mine was the highest level of sensuality i had visited at that point in my life.
i was feeling things that i could not explain.
his kisses became hotter, then began tenatively moving down my neck.
this is it, i decided.
i will do this.
here and now.
as i reached for his belt, he paused and looked at me through half-closed eyes.
are you sure?
i nodded, and he kissed me softly, allowing me to finish my task of removing his pants.
he stood, and shook the sand from the blanket we had sat on, innocently, all day.
then carefully, removed my pants, as i lay breathing raggedly.
he was so sweet, so respectful.
he kissed me all over, then asked if i was ready before slowly, ever so slowly, sliding into place.
and it felt as good as i had always imagined--better, even.
i winced for a moment, but that moment was washed away with the pleasure of it all.
the crashing of the waves were all i could hear, but i could feel his breath on my neck, as he moved over me.
i raised my knees, wanting to feel everything, and he let out a long breath, probably a groan?
we were warm and tangled and feeling the kinds of things that kids feel in moments like that.
i felt triumphant--breaking the biggest rule of my sheltered life, and the sky had not fallen, lightening had not struck.
we became shy after we finished, slipping back into sandy rumpled clothes.
shivering, as the sea air hit our sweaty skin.
he took my hand again, folding our fingers together and made me look at him.
he smiled and promised that he would cherish my virginity, and i melted.
he knew the right words, which often means one has been too many places, done too many things.
but they are called "the right words" for a reason.
they filled the gap of uncertainty that had started to form, and i was calm again.
we drove to the only place open at that time of night, had cheesburgers and chocolate shakes.
then we drove back to our beach, watched the sun rise silently, and parted.
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