SCENE ONE: THE FRONT STEPS
One Saturday morning, Victoria (Vic) Anderson and Greg Cleveland were sitting on Greg's front porch steps, their usual spot for several Saturdays, so far. Greg was enjoying the fresh air, the smell of his coffee, and the aroma of Vic’s herbal tea, the lemon-ginger. He thought she smelled pretty good, too. To date, their meetings have been fun and friendly, but not romantic. That was about to change.
“I finished reading ‘John McNab'," Vic declared. "I loved it! I’d like to read some more John Buchan, if you have any. And I definitely see why you thought of me when you were reading about Janet, the heroine. Besides fitting the description of ‘jolly’ and ‘remarkably good lookin’, I can see myself charging across the heath, dark hair flying, to single-handedly confront one of the ‘John McNabs’ and thwart his attempt to make off with his prize. But, as I think you pointed out, Janet wouldn’t have been some cute little blue-eyed blonde. She would have had dark, flowing hair. I think if John Buchan was to re-read the book today, he would agree, and change the description.”
“I’m really glad you liked the book...”
“Wait, I’m not finished with my review. I think Buchan did get Archie right. I can see Janet – well, me – being paired with a tall, ruggedly handsome type who loves to watch birds – Archie, you may recall, was an unrepentant bird watcher. He’s a pretty competent, clear-headed person most of the time, but when he’s around her – me – he gets all tentative and wishy-washy. He’d love to tell her that he’s fallen deeply in love with her, and longs to take her in his arms and kiss her, but he just can’t seem to get the words out.”
She stopped, and looked at him, expectantly.
“Was there a question in there?” he asked.
“Are you falling in love with me, Greg?”
He met her gaze. “Wow, you cut right to the chase, don’t you?”
“With important things, yes. Are you falling in love with me?”
He felt a little like teasing her, but also felt his answer was pretty important. “Why would I, a college graduate, be falling in love with a high school girl?”
“Have you not been paying attention? I’m asking if you’re falling in love with a high school graduate, college bound, young woman – who, by the way, is only a couple years younger than you are, college graduate status notwithstanding.”
He wasn’t ready to give a real answer, yet. “Well, let’s consider. We have known each other for - what, less than two months – during most of which time you were a high school girl – and most of which time we have sat here on these porch steps..”
“And walked in the woods.”
“Granted, walked in the woods…”
“And had family dinners together.”
“I’m not sure that counts, but okay…”
“And don’t forget tractor training!” (Vic had helped him master a mechanical problem.)
“Definitely not, but even acknowledging tractor training, in our less than two month acquaintance, we have actually been together maybe 24 hours.”
“What does that have to do with the question?”
“Let me finish. Considering our slight knowledge of one another – no, don’t stop me! – considering our short knowledge of one another, how could I possibly be falling in love with someone who is beautiful, smart, funny, challenging, caring, only about two years younger than me, and who probably started stealing my heart before she was a high school-graduated, college bound, young woman?”
Vic sat quietly beside him for what seemed to Greg like two or three minutes. Finally, she spoke, without looking at him. “So, I liked all those pretty words – I hope to hear them again, many times – but was there an answer in there, somewhere?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, there was an answer?”
“Yes, and the answer is that I think I am beyond “falling;” I think I am plumb fallen.”
She gave a little laugh, and reached his hand. “Good. The feeling is definitely mutual.”
They sat together in silence for some time.
“Maybe your dad saw this coming. I don’t know how, but maybe that’s what he was warning me about.”
Vic let go of his hand, and turned to face him. “What are you talking about? What did Daddy say, and when did he say it?”
Her reaction was so intense that Greg didn’t know whether to tell it straight, or tease her a little. Since she had made up the story about talking to her mother about them, he chose – rightly or wrongly - the tease.
“It was the first Sunday I was here, even before I officially started work. We went for a drive around the refuge – presumably just to show me the place - but it turned out he had something else in mind. He had seen you playing Florence Nightingale for me the day before, and was a little worried.”
“Worried about what?”
“Well, let’s see. He hadn’t got to know me yet, and there was his young daughter bringing coffee to someone who might be a drunk…”
“I told him you weren’t!”
“Well, but look at it through his eyes – father eyes. Here was his vulnerable young daughter, not knowledgeable about men, starved for some masculine attention…”
“Oh, please!”
“And here comes this mysterious, remarkably handsome stranger – who, by the way, might be a drunk – to potentially sweep her off her feet and steal her childhood from her.”
“My god! Well, assuming Daddy said anything like that – which, by the way, I’m sure he didn’t – how did you respond?”
“I had to be honest. After all, he was my boss, and we were going to be working closely together. I had to gain his trust. So, I admitted that, from the moment I saw you – not at the dinner, but there on my porch with me suffering a splitting headache and a hangover so bad that I could hardly see anything clearly – I was bewitched by you. I wanted to take you in my arms, smother you with kisses, and maybe leave with you in my car that very instant. Alas, I knew you were a mere high school girl, and I had to control myself then, and I promised I would continue to regard you as off-limits. But, having these feelings after having known you for less than an hour under less than romantic circumstances, I admitted to him that – considering how beautiful, smart, funny, challenging, and irresistible you were - I would have to constantly be on my guard.”
He stopped, having run out (at least, momentarily) of foolish things to say. She just stared at him, no emotion showing. Then: “Alas? You said alas, I had captured your heart in that single moment?”
“Well, not in those words, maybe.”
“Obviously not. So, in your description that time, you forgot ‘caring.’”
“But I added in ‘irresistible.’”
“Granted; nice touch. Now, putting all that b.s. aside, what – if anything – was really said?”
He considered his answer. “Well, it wasn’t really a conversation. It was sort of a speech by your dad – trying to be a dad, without making too much out of what wasn’t really even a situation. Actually, I was thinking about something else, and don’t really remember the details.”
“So, I’ll overlook the fact you weren’t thinking about me, and ask how you answered.”
“I think I said ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ a couple times.”
“So, nothing really happened.”
He thought about that. “No, something happened, all right. What he said was enough to make me a little careful around you and your sister for a while. Of course, with you at school all week, I wasn’t seeing you except on the weekends.”
A short silence again, while she thought about that. “So, if you weren’t trying to control your feelings for me, what were you thinking about?”
“The Viet Nam thing. We’d just been talking about the Johnson boys, and their brother being in the service, and my own situation got real to me, again.”
All she said was, “Yeah.”
“I do remember one thing about that first morning,” Greg said. “As bad as I felt, I remember thinking that you smelled awfully nice.”
She laughed. “And then you held my arm.”
“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have done that.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” She wasn’t looking at him. “So, are you going to kiss me, now?”
He thought about them sitting there in the open, in sight of her parents’ house. Her dad might even be on the porch, drinking his morning coffee. He knew what he wanted to do, but.. “No,” he said.
She stood up, and started to leave. “You will,” she said. At the foot of the steps, she turned back and looked at him. “Soon,” she said, and walked on toward home. Suddenly, she stopped, and again turned toward him for a moment. “This could have been your ‘once-a-year-day.’” She went on home.
***
SCENE TWO: ONCE A YEAR DAY
Vic had finished a quick breakfast, and was headed for the door by 7 a.m. “I’m going to help Greg with his bird count this morning, Mom. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”
Alice came out of the kitchen to say something, but Vic was already halfway across the compound. She met Greg as he was coming out his door, binoculars around his neck and a spare pair in hand for her. They walked toward the woods.
They were barely into the edge of the forest, when she stopped. “Is this going to be your once-a-year day?”
“What?”
“Are you going to talk small talk now that you’re alone with me?” She put her arms around his neck, and moved her face close to his. “Don’t you have something better for my lips to do?”
He did, and they did it for some time, standing on the trail in the morning coolness. Finally, he moved back a little, but just enough to look at her face. In unison, they said, “And that takes no talk, at all!”
They laughed, but still didn’t move apart. “I thought that was pretty nice,” he murmured, his lips on her forehead. “Well,” she said, just as quietly, “It wasn’t too bad. It would have been better if your clunky, hard binoculars weren’t between us.”
Greg made a quick motion, swinging the binoculars around so they were resting on his back. “Should we try again, perhaps do it better?.”
“I’m game.” She was, and after a bit, she said, “That was a little better for me. How about for you?”
“Pretty good, but the binocular strap pulling on my neck is sort of strangling me. I’m not sure I got the full benefit.”
“Well, take them off, dummy!” He did, and they tried a long experiment. “Yep, I think that was pretty good,” he said. “Excellent, in fact.”
She finally took her arms from around his neck, and stepped back. “Certainly quite acceptable, but I suggest more practice, later.”
Just beyond, there was a little lava rock outcrop, where they could sit and lean back against the trees. Counting birds didn’t seem too important at the moment. They sat without speaking, Vic leaning on his shoulder, and his arm around her.
“I should have known this was coming, when you made that crack about my ‘once-a-year day.’ I assume you saw ‘Pajama Game?’”
“Not saw. That seems impossible. It’s too old to be in theaters – probably wouldn’t have been in our local one, anyway. It’s not anywhere on TV. Then, one of my girlfriends thought there might be a record with the music on it. There was, and four of us pooled our money to buy it. It’s fun. Of course, you don’t get the whole story from the music, but you can guess most of it.”
They sat some more, both savoring the recent kisses and the current closeness.
“I’ve wanted us to do that for a long time,” Greg said, after a while.
“So, why haven’t we?”
He laughed, a little ruefully. “Well, it just seemed complicated…”
She interrupted. “Well, you just found out it wasn’t complicated at all. You just face each other, bring your lips together…”
“Okay, stop!” His laugh was happier, this time. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Was it my daddy’s stern ‘hands off my daughter’ warning?”
“I think so, at least a little bit. More significant was that, every time the subject came up, or the thought arose, we were in sight of your house, and of whoever might be on your porch. It was also that we really didn’t know one another very well, and - even though you were a young woman rather than a schoolgirl - you were a young young woman.”
“Two and a half whole years younger than you!”
“Well, with me a college grad and you just graduating from high school, it seemed significant. But it wasn’t really just those things. It was more me trying to see the future. I mean, you’re about to go off to college. I don’t know how long I have a job here – they like to move people around – and, even without that uncertainty, there’s the whole Viet Nam thing. I get worried every time the mail comes, wondering if there’ll be a “greeting” from Selective Service.”
***
SCENE THREE: SALT LAKE CITY
As a birthday surprise for the Anderson sisters, Greg had taken them to Salt Lake City to see a live stage performance of "Carousel." Back in their hotel rooms, Mandy had gone to sleep, and Vic had gone next door to visit with Greg for awhile. Next morning...
When Vic awoke, the room was light but it was obviously still early. She noticed that she had been sleeping on someone’s arm, and that someone’s body was pressed comfortably close to hers. She didn’t find the situation unpleasant, and in fact she stayed where she was for several more minutes. She liked the feeling. However, she had no idea how she had ended up where she was.
Trying not to wake her still sleeping bed mate, she slipped out from under the covers and retreated to her own room. Mandy was sitting up in her bed.
“I observed that you had spent the night somewhere other than here. Did you and he...?”
“No, we did not.” She paused. “At least, I don’t think we did.”
“Vic!”
“I’m just kidding. My attire – skimpy as it is – “ She made a little curtsey to emphasize her pajama shorts, “Seems to be much as I remember leaving it. We did sleep together, but I’m pretty sure that’s all we did – sleep together, I mean. I think he and I will need to have a little private conversation to sort this all out.
“Now, I think what must have happened is that I fell asleep, and he didn’t try to bring me back in here because he didn’t want to risk disturbing you.”
“Yes, that sounds very plausible – and very considerate of him, too. I’ll have to thank him.”
‘Now, he’s still up, but he’s getting cold – or maybe just very sleepy – but I’m in his bed. We know he doesn’t want to wake you, and I’m sleeping very soundly, so he just decides he will get under the covers and let us all sleep in peace.”
“That also sounds plausible. I might point out, however, that his room has two beds. So...”
Vic thought about that. “Yes, that does raise certain questions, doesn’t it?”
“Try this idea,” said Mandy. “You were right about him being cold. You just didn’t realize that he was very, very cold. You might remember we saw a movie once in which a man and woman were stranded in Alaska. They were both freezing to death, so they got into the same sleeping bag, and hugged all night. Their combined body heat saved them.”
Vic shook her head. “Nice try, but it didn’t feel that cold in his room. As a matter of fact, it seemed pretty toasty where I was. I could have stayed there very comfortably.”
“So, it worked. You saved one another!”
That got them both giggling. “I think lover-boy – or, apparently, non-lover-boy! – and I need a long, private chat.” She became serious. “You know, I’ve had dreams about lying in someone’s arms all night, and waking up with them the next morning. This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it felt awfully good. It gives me hope that my dreams aren’t always going to be unfulfilled fantasies.”
***
SCENE FOUR: EXPLAINING SALT LAKE
Back at the wildlife refuge that evening, Vic was sitting in Greg's arm chair. He was perched on one of the kitchen chairs.
“So,” she began, “the last I remember is us talking...”
“And occasionally kissing.”
“Granted, occasionally kissing...”
“With you on my lap.”
“Wait! Was I... Yes, I guess I was. Anyway, the next I know I am waking in your bed, my head resting on your shoulder and our bodies close together. Am I remembering it correctly?”
“Well, I’d include a few adjectives: your head very comfortably on my shoulder, and our bodies very close together.”
“Greg, I get the feeling you aren’t taking this seriously.”
“No, believe me, I am. It’s just that my explanation isn’t going to make much sense unless we can visualize the whole situation.”
“All right, explain away.”
“Okay. So, we were in that big armchair, with you curled in my lap. We were talking, occasionally kissing – and singing; I was singing to you. You liked it. You fell asleep. I didn’t think I could get you out to your bed without waking Mandy, but I was able to get you as far as my bed. I tucked you in, kissed you on the forehead, said I love you – which I do! – then went back over to my chair. I watched you sleep for some time. Finally, it dawned on me that I really wanted to hold you in my arms for a while. I got into the bed next to you, turned you slightly toward me, and held you. It felt really nice. The next thing I remembered was waking up, and finding your note.”
She mulled over that for a moment. “So, you had no other intentions than to ‘hold me for a while’?”
“What other intentions could I have had?”
She really didn’t know if he was teasing her. “Have you ever heard the term, ‘making love’?”
He really looked surprised. “We’re not ready for that yet, are we?”
She found herself wanting to say “maybe, maybe not.” She didn’t. Instead, she decided to change the mood. She got up from the chair, motioned to him to sit in it, then sat on his lap. “So, Mandy was wrong. She thought you might have been saving me from hypothermia.”
He looked confused (as he should!). “Hypothermia?”
“Mandy remembered a movie we had seen about a couple – well, they weren’t a couple couple, just two people stranded together in ice-bound Alaska. They were waiting to be rescued, but it was becoming obvious that they would probably freeze to death before help could reach them. The man suggested they squeeze together into one sleeping bag, and hug each other tightly, so the joint heat of their two bodies would keep them warmer than if they were apart. It worked.”
“Wait. You told Mandy about us being together?”
She gave him an “are you dumb?” look. “My little sister wakes up, and sees my bed has not been slept in. As the first light of morning enters the room, so do I, still in my pajamas and looking a little tousled. Do you not think there might have been a question or two?”
“Put like that, I suppose it was inevitable.”
She snuggled against him. “I should have seen that she couldn’t be right. In the movie, the man had made it clear that the heat transfer only worked if they were naked. (They didn’t actually show that part in the movie.) Yet, I woke in the pajamas I went to sleep in, and you were in your heavy, clunky sweat suit. Either you didn’t know how staving off hypothermia worked, or that wasn’t your intention.”
He didn’t immediately respond, so she continued. “I accept your explanation without reservation. When I awoke, I was confused, but I have to say that I was not displeased. In fact, I found the situation so nice that I stayed quite some time before going back to my own room.” She paused to express a little of her pleasure. “I have one more thing I want to discuss.”
“Don’t you, always?”
“Not always, but regularly. This is not a new subject, however; it’s just filling in one gap in our ongoing discussion.”
“Okay, fire away.”
“When we briefly mentioned the subject of ‘making love,’ you said you didn’t think we were ready yet. I emphasize the word ‘yet.’ The implication to me is that you feel that there will come a time when we will be ready. Am I reading you correctly?”
He shifted her around a little so he could look at her face. “If we are going to be together for 80 or 100 years, and if sometime in that period we are going to produce Vic Jr. and Greg Jr., then I think it is inevitable that the subject will come up, and that some appropriate actions will follow,”
She smiled, and kissed him one more time. “Then, I will look forward to future developments.”
***
SCENE FIVE: SLEEPING TOGETHER DEFINED
Vic and Greg had been sitting quietly, both absorbed in their own thoughts. Vic was the first to disturb the reverie. “I’ve been thinking...” she started.
“When are you not thinking?” he interrupted.
“True, I have an active mind, but I was thinking about something in particular – something important. Here it is. Now that we slept together at Salt Lake, it seems to me that we have committed ourselves to a long-term, close relationship.”
“Let me stop you there, for clarification purposes. First, I thought we had established our commitment to a long-term relationship some time ago. Second, ‘sleeping together’ usually means...”
“Oh, I’m not talking about ‘sleeping together’ in the colloquial sense...”
“Colloquial sense?”
“Or, do I mean ‘vernacular?’ Well, it doesn’t matter; you and I know that I’m talking about having sex together.”
“You may be giving me too much credit, but I agree that few other people would know either of those words in this particular context.”
“Yes, but you have to admit that when two people share a bed, cuddle close all night, and wake up in the same location in the morning, they have ‘slept together.’ Now, I know when we get to the next levels – marriage, having kids, etc. – then, we do get to the other definition, a.k.a., having sex.”
He held up his hand, as if to stop her. “Before we get into that – either physically or rhetorically - I think we need better definitions. I’m not an expert on the subject but, as I understand it, ‘having sex’ is what randy teenagers practice in the back seat of their parents’ cars.
“Define randy, please.”
“Well, randy means... randy means displaying a certain degree of randiness.”
“Ah, I see. Thank you for the clarification.”
“Any time. To go on, ‘sleeping together’ – whether vernacular, colloquial, or a.k.a. having sex – is what adults do who are lonely, bored, or adventurous, and would rather do that than play Monopoly or go for a hike. No, what we are planning to do is called – for want of a better term –making love. Clearly, it is not all that love is about, but I understand it is a nice part of the total package.”
A pause; then Vic: “You said that we are planning...”
“Well, as we have noted on previous occasions, it is a necessary element in reaching some of our other goals. In addition to that, I understand it is a very worthwhile something to plan for, in its own right.
***
SCENE SIX: SLEEPING TOGETHER, PART TWO
Vic gave an elaborate stretch, and a fake-sounding yawn. “You know, even though I slept quite a while, I think I am ready to go to bed.”
Greg stood up. “Okay, I’ll wait around until you get settled, and then head home.”
“You’re leaving? I thought you would stay here.”
“I don’t think your father would have let you stay out here if he had thought I was going to be sleeping with you.”
“Well, aren’t you presumptuous! Who said anything about you sleeping with me? It’s just that I’ve never been here at night by myself, and I’m a little concerned about being all alone.”
He was immediately contrite. “Vic, I’m sorry I misunderstood.” He thought a minute. “Okay, how about I go over to my place, get my sleeping bag, and put it in on Mandy’s bed? Then, I’ll be close if you should get worried.”
“That sounds good.”
He got his bag, and brought it back to the house. Vic was sitting on the edge of her bed, ready to get into it.
“Nice p.js,” he said.
“You have said that before.”
“They are still nice.” He turned down her bed covers, and helped her climb in. She pulled him down to her for a long goodnight kiss.
“I’ll be right next door,” he said, as he turned out her light. He spread his sleeping bag on the bed, but it was really too warm in the house to get into it. He opened it flat, searched around for a light blanket, lay down on the bag, and pulled the cover over him.
He was just dozing off when he felt the cover being lifted, then a warm body sliding in next to his. “Vic, what are you doing?”
“I’m going to be sleeping with you.”
“Didn’t we just recently decide that wasn’t going happen?”
“No, we decided you weren’t going to sleep with me. We said nothing about me sleeping with you.”
“I think that is what they call a distinction without a difference.”
“What do you care? Just enjoy it, and go to sleep.
He did enjoy it, and he did go to sleep.
***
The following night, they made it through ‘Gunsmoke,’ but Greg had been dozing off long before ‘Bewitched’ was over. Vic turned off the television. For a third time, she put aside the thoughts that had been nagging at her all day. She couldn’t bring up anything that might spoil this night.
“I’ve been thinking about last night,” she finally began. “I think all the bed-hopping was rather unseemly. Rather than going through all the silly and unnecessary gyrations – which, by the way, was keeping me awake – why don’t you just get in bed with me to begin with?”
Greg thought he should protest, but wasn’t sure what he would be protesting about. “You make it sound like I was the one bed-hopping. As I recall it...”
“Greg, you’re missing the point. Are you going to sleep with me, or not?”
“I will, but I think we should remember that you are here because your parents are expecting us to be on our best behavior...”
“I am here on my best behavior. Did you experience any bad behavior last night?”
“No. I liked it, just fine.”
“Good. Let’s go to bed.”
***
SCENE SEVEN: PHYSICAL CONCERNS
They spent a happy night together, with no “bad behavior” (although Vic was pretty sure her parents wouldn’t agree with that characterization). Still, she couldn’t shake her thoughts from yesterday. When Greg came out of the bathroom, he found her sitting on the edge of the bed, looking a little lost. He sat down beside her.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Greg, is it okay for me to want you sleeping with me if we’re not going to… You know, go farther?”
He hadn’t expected that, and he didn’t know how to respond. She kept talking, so he didn’t have to, immediately. “I’ve been thinking about yesterday morning, when we were talking about dancing. You said you would have lustful feelings for me before we danced, and probably more while we were dancing. I know you were just joking with me, but… I mean, I really like to kiss and cuddle, but sometimes I have feelings that are more… Well, stronger than the other. I think that you must have them, too. Is it too difficult to lay next to me all night, and know that’s all we’re going to do?”
He put his arm around her, and pulled her a little closer to him. “I would be a terrible liar if I said I didn’t have the feelings that you’re talking about. Let me give you a little lesson in homespun biology.
“We humans don’t like to think of ourselves as animals but, physiologically, in the matter of sex, our bodies behave like other mammals. When the mating season approaches, and with it the possibility of sex, mammal bodies prepare. Both sexes begin to exhibit signs that will attract a possible mate. There doesn’t have to be any thought involved; our bodies work all by themselves, just in case.
“Now, humans have developed the ability to have ‘mating season’ all year long, and that means that our bodies can be stimulated pretty easily. You are a beautiful, highly desirable woman, and I am a reasonably handsome, reasonably virile man. When we’re close – kissing, or cuddling in bed – it doesn’t take any more than that for our bodies to react. Now, add love to the mixture, and all the feelings get deeper and more urgent. At that point, our bodies are ready for more, but our minds still have to decide if we’re ready to take the next step.
“We’re both obviously feeling the closeness. I’m finding it a little disconcerting, but highly pleasant, and your presence isn’t driving me mad, yet.”
“I’m not driving you mad?” she interrupted.
“I said you’re not driving me mad, yet – emphasis on ‘yet.’ I suspect you are at about the same place. At some point, however, our minds and bodies are going to synchronize, and there will come a time when we won’t want to wait any longer.”
“You mean, when we’re married?”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“That’s my line! You’ve stolen my line. And just what do you mean by it?”
“I just mean that convention says ‘marriage first, reward second.’ However, I think we will find – as I’m sure many other couples have found – that when we’re ready, we’ll know we’re ready, and there won’t be any second guessing or guilt or remorse if the schedule turns out a little differently. It’s called ‘situation ethics.’”
She didn’t say anything, but she looked happy.
“You know,” said Greg, as he pulled her closer to him, “Having never been in this situation before, I really have no idea about how such things work. I may be talking through my hat.”
She laid her head on his shoulder. “I know, but you tell it all so nicely, I’m prepared to believe every word you said.”
***
SCENE EIGHT: THE COMMITMENT
They went indoors, and Vic gave Alice, her mom, copies of the photos from the Salt Lake trip. Alice was thrilled, and especially liked the one of Vic and Mandy sitting together on the bed.
“I’ll get that one framed,” she said.
They visited for a few more minutes. Alice gave Greg a bag of fresh-baked apple-spice muffins to take back to share with Chuck (Vic's dad). Vic walked back to the car with him. She obviously had something on her mind.
“I want to talk to you about this weekend.”
“Okay.”
“I'll be at college after then, so you realize it’s going to be our last over-nighter for a while?”
“Sadly, I do realize that.”
“Well, as much as I have enjoyed our last couple of weekends, with kissing and cuddling and sharing a bed, I don’t want it like that this time.”
He was puzzled, and a little disappointed. “Okay, but what….”
“I don’t want to do it that way, again, because I’m ready for more. I want it all! We love each other. It’s not practical to get married for a while, but I feel married to you. And now I want to feel – with the emphasis on feel – married.”
Greg felt as if reality had slipped away when he wasn’t paying attention. “This is a surprise! I mean, are we really ready?”
“Do you remember what you told me not long ago, when I was worried about the stress of sleeping together without making love? You said that, at some point, our minds and bodies were going to synchronize, and then we wouldn’t want to wait any longer. I asked if you meant when we were married. Do you remember that you said?”
“I do. I said maybe, maybe not.”
“Exactly. And when I asked you what you mean by that, you gave me some line about how it was conventional – well, thought to be conventional, anyway - to wait, but that many couples – your words, many couples – found that they were ready before then. Well, I’m ready, Greg. I’m very ready, and I think you are, too. Let’s make this weekend extra special, please.”
“Wow! Well, this is a surprise,” he said, again.”
“Didn’t you tell me not long ago that surprise was one of the key elements of romance?”
“I did say that.”
“Then, it’s settled. Between now and Friday when you pick me up, stop by a drugstore or whatever else you need to do, and be ready to please us both.”
***
SCENE NINE; THE BIG STEP
Considering what he and Chuck’s lovely young woman of a daughter intended to do that weekend, Greg felt more than a little awkward the next two days in the office with Chuck. Chuck seemed not to notice any change, so they ate dinner, played checkers, and banded ducks as usual. Eventually, Friday came, and Chuck left for town. Greg cleaned up a little, then followed him. On a whim, he stopped at the drive-in, and ordered two hamburgers to go.
When he arrived at the house, Vic came out immediately and climbed into the car, not giving him a chance to visit. She smelled the warm food aroma.
“I didn’t know what to do,” said Greg, a little helplessly, “So I got hamburgers for us.”
“Good idea,” she said. “Mom sent some food with me, so we can eat a quick meal, and then go band ducks.”
They did both. Neither took much time, which - feeling an excited anxiety - Greg wasn’t sure was a good thing or a bad thing.
It was getting dark as they returned to the house. They sat together on the couch. Neither spoke for a while.
“Do you think your folks will get a color TV?” he asked.
“I doubt it,” she said. “With our so-so reception, and our so-so choices of programs, it doesn’t seem like it would be worth it.”
“Did you know that the sale of color TVs has almost doubled this year over last year, and that there are now more than 3 million color TVs in the United States?”
“No, I didn’t know that.”
“Did you know that even NBC news is going to telecast in color?”
“Nope.”
“Did you know that I’m feeling rather nervous?”
“No, I never would have guessed,” she said. she turned to face him. They kissed, a little tentatively.
“Part of me says we shouldn’t be doing this,” he said.
“I hope it’s not an important part,” she replied.
He laughed. “No, but it is something I want to talk about.”
She got up off the couch. “Wait here.” She went into the bathroom, and after a few minutes came out wearing her pajamas, the ones with the loose-fitting blouse and shorts. She stood in the bedroom doorway.
He stood up. “Nice pj’s,” he said.
“As you have observed on previous occasions.” She moved out of his sight, so he walked to the bedroom door. She turned back the covers on the bed, and slid inside. “Come to bed,” she said.
He took his turn in the bathroom. He didn’t have pajamas, so opted for boxer shorts rather than briefs, the former being a little less revealing. She watched as he came out. “Nice shorts.”
“I feel a little exposed,” he admitted.
She pulled back the blankets. “Get in here, and no one will notice.” He did. She leaned into him, and he put his arm around her. It felt pretty good.
“You know,” he said, “When I mentioned being a little concerned about being here, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to be here. I definitely do. It’s the upbringing of my youth, I guess. Being in bed with a woman was something that, prior to you – if I thought about it at all – I thought only happened after marriage. I don’t think, growing up, I even knew what that ‘something’ that ‘happened’ was. I’ve kissed a few girls, and mildly wrestled with one or two, but even my relationship with my one long-term girlfriend most people probably would have called platonic. It was affectionate – and she was a good kisser…”
“As good as me?”
“No, but we’re not comparing. I’m telling you my background, so your expectations…”
“I don’t want to talk small talk,” she sang, quietly. “Now that I’m alone with you.”
“Vic!”
“I don’t want to talk small talk. We’ve got bigger things to do.”
“Okay, so you remember the song from ‘Pajama Game’…”
“I do, and the words are definitely appropriate here.”
“Agreed, but I want to say one more thing.”
She moved herself from under his arm. “Okay, take all the time you need. No, wait! Two minutes I’m giving you, starting now.”
He pulled her back to him. “What I wanted to say is that I don’t really know what to do. I’ve never been in bed with a gir… young woman, until you. I’ve had biology classes, so I know the basics, but I’ve never even seen a woman’s… uh, attributes, up close, I’m a little apprehensive.”
She snuggled in closer to him. “Now, let me say my piece. I have kissed a couple boys – none of the kisses were even from the same universe as mine with you. I have never ‘wrestled’ with any boy. I, too, know the basics from biology class, but male attributes are definitely imperfectly known to me. I’ve heard a little ‘girl talk’ about what to do, and what happens, but it hasn’t been clarifying. Like you, I don’t really know what to expect, but…” She moved her hand onto his thigh. “We..” Her fingers moved across his thigh. “Are going…” Her hand was on the front of his boxers. “To find out!” She eased down the waist band of his shorts, and her hand slipped onto his flesh.
“Brazen hussy,” he murmured, but didn’t attempt to change the position.
“Where did you dredge up that old saying? You’ve used it before, as I recall.” Her hand stayed where it was.
“I don’t know; maybe old movies. Ooh! Ooh! Right now, I don’t really care!”
After a pause, broken only by another sigh or two from him, he said, “You know, if you do this much longer, something very definite is going to happen.”
She moved her hand back and forth inside his shorts. “Yes, I recall that from biology class, but I’m not sure what it is that happens.”
Almost immediately, she got her answer, and with an intensity that surprised them both. “Wow!” she said, “That was really something!”
“You’re telling me!” he murmured. He lay against her, seemingly exhausted. She held onto him a few moments, then slid out of bed. “Wait here,” she said, as if saying it mattered to him. In the bathroom she cleaned up a bit, discarded her pajama bottoms, and returned to bed. He was asleep, so didn’t notice the change. She held him for close to an hour as he slept, enjoying his closeness and reveling in the release she had been able to give him. He stirred finally, and she moved his hand over between her legs, then up to her vagina. She pressed the hand against her body, and moved it slowly back and forth. “I’m ready now,” she said.
It took only a moment for him to respond to the pressure of her hand, the softness of her skin, and the slight moistness under his touch. She moved her hand away, and let his fingers explore her, moving in and out of the creases and crevices that they discovered. She lay quietly as he moved up over her. Finding her lips, they kissed hungrily. He unbuttoned her pajama top, and let his hands move over her breasts, the first that he had seen them. He kissed each, then let his lips travel down over her abdomen to the hair line below her navel.
“Is this okay?” he asked, as his hands slid down onto her thighs. She murmured what sounded like yes, and his lips traveled down to where his fingers had begun. Her breathing had become quick and audible; so had his.
It might have been an hour later – an hour of his fingers and lips moving over every part of her, with her occasionally murmuring throaty suggestions to go faster or slower, harder or softer, or to touch somewhere else. Occasionally, she had moaned softly, and gave little laughs. Suddenly, her body went rigid, she sighed several times, and then completely relaxed.
“Are you okay?” he asked, anxiously, afraid he might have hurt her.
“Oh, my god, yes!” She exclaimed.
Shortly after, they slept in each other’s arms.
***
About eight hours later, he woke. Vic was still asleep. At some point, she had turned away from him, so his body was pressed firmly against her back, his arm around her below her breasts. Her pajama top had come all the way off sometime in the night, and the feeling of her warm flesh against him was something he didn’t think he could ever have imagined.
“I love you, Victoria Anderson,” he whispered. Gradually, an eye opened, and she turned her head to look at him. “I am feeling much the same way,” she muttered sleepily. “Well, I mean, me loving you, not me loving me.”
“Understood, and accepted. How do you think we did, for our very first time? Pretty good?”
He helped her sit up, and lean back against the bed board. “I think it’s a little early in the morning to be talking about sex. However, I will say that I, for one, am very pleased with the good time that you helped me to have last night. It was very memorable.”
“I was glad to oblige, and I’m pleased that you were pleased.”
“As for you, I certainly think I helped you rise to the occasion.”
He groaned. “Sexual inuendo, first thing in the morning?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said. She was quiet for a moment, then: “I do have one complaint, or at least one concern.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Is it something that I can help with?”
“I certainly hope so, as you are the cause of the complaint – or concern, I think is a better word. It’s this: after a certain climactic moment last night, I don’t remember a lot of detail. However, I think I am correct in saying that – now, this morning - I am still a virgin.”
He smiled at her. “I believe you are correct in your analysis of the situation.”
“Okay. That being so, I believe it is fair to say that you, also, are still a virgin.”
”Following your logic, and using the same definition for both our conditions, I’d say yes, you are correct.”
“Let me up,” she said, abruptly. He swung around so that she could get by him, and she headed into the bathroom. He thought the view of her leaving was quite satisfactory. From behind the closed door, she called, “The phone could ring any moment. Do not answer it!”
“Understood,” he said. Searching around in the covers, he found his shorts, and pulled them on. He sat on the edge of the bed. She came out of the bathroom, and sat beside him. He thought the view coming back had been equally as good as the view going away. He put his hand on her bare thigh, and was about to express that sentiment.
“Here’s the thing,” she said, interrupting his unspoken intentions. “Are you prepared to correct the problem, or ameliorate the concern, as it may be stated?”
He paused. “Well, if I am correct in the definition of, and your use of the term ‘ameliorate,’ then I can unequivocally say yes.”
“Good.”
She didn’t say anything else. “Would you like me to ameliorate it now?”
Still no further comment. He was enjoying the view, but he was wondering if some action was required on his part. Suddenly, she stood up. He continued to be pleased with the view.
“No,” she finally said. “My mother will undoubtedly call any moment, and I do not want the amelioration interrupted.”
On cue, the phone rang, and she talked to her mother for a few minutes. She failed to tell her what she had been doing, and with who. She hung up the phone, and came back to the bedroom.
“We will save the amelioration for later. Right now, I want to take a shower; get dressed – although you seem to be enjoying my current state of deshabille.”
“I think your current state is a little beyond deshabille…”
“Nevertheless, I will get dressed. You will take a shower and get dressed. While you are doing that, I will start us a big, calorie-filled breakfast. After we eat, we will go band ducks.
“All the time we’re doing these things, I am going to be thinking about what is to come. I’m going to fill my mind with thoughts about how amazing it is going to be. I am going to picture every possible situation – every way you will touch me, and how I will touch you – and how I will feel, and how you will feel. By the time, we get back to this room in mid-afternoon, I am going to be so keyed up that I will be on the verge of sexual craziness. You will be hard pressed to satisfy me. But you will!”
He looked at her smiling at him. “After that speech, I think I may be on the verge of sexual craziness, already!”
She stood up. “Well, control yourself, my good fellow. It will get a lot vergier, before we get back here.” A moment later, he heard her in the shower.
***
They ate breakfast – a ham scramble, with English muffins and fruit – then went out to the duck traps. Both traps were full, and they spent close to two hours banding about forty birds, not counting a number of re-traps. When they returned to headquarters, they sat on Greg’s steps for a while, but neither could concentrate in the usual way. They gave up, and went over to her house. After three hours of him not being able to do anything more than hold her hand, he felt a nervous wreck, and almost believed he was running a fever. She was looking pretty wild-eyed, herself. He was remembering almost every word of her speech – he’d been hearing it in his head for an excruciating three hours! He thought she was remembering it just as clearly. He was right.
With few preliminaries, they were soon in bed, their bodies seeming to melt together, and a delicious kiss stirring them both. As he started to move his hands over her, her whole body seemed to react. Like the night before, she began to direct his activities – quietly, breathlessly, but insistent, and more explicit. He reacted to each request as well and as quickly as he could, but he felt more and more likely to explode at any second. More quickly than last night, she began to breathe extra heavily, then whispered urgently, “Come in now!”
He’d never put on a condom before, and it was made infinitely harder with his whole body shaking, He made it, and pressed up against her. She gasped a little, as in pain, and he thought maybe he had hurt her. ”No. Sex Education 101; had to happen!” she murmured. He pushed a little more, and he heard her cry out just as his whole world seemed to explode. He felt like he was tumbling into her, somehow. Then, they were both quiet.
“Mission accomplished,” she whispered so softly he wasn’t sure she really said it.
“Yeah,” was all he could say.
***
A little later, they woke, still pressed together. He ran his hand through her hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t last longer. I couldn’t do it.”
“You were adequate,” she said, kissing him lightly. “More than adequate,” she said, as the kiss got harder. “Much, much, much more than adequate!” They lost track of time for a while. Finally, they broke apart. He raised up on one elbow, and looked her over. “If I say I’m sorry again, will you ease my suffering again.”
She smiled. “Not now. You’ll get better. Much better. We’ll both get much better. It will just take a lot of practice, and the refining of our skills.”
“That implies that there will be some practice time in the future?”
“I would call that a certainty. We have a long life together ahead of us; lots of practice time.”
They didn’t practice then, just slept together for several hours. After that, they sat in bed, eating hot dogs he had quickly grilled, and the rest of the potato salad. They eventually drifted back to sleep for the rest of the night.
Sunday morning, Alice called on cue. Again, Vic didn’t share the real news. One would have thought all they ever did was eat and band ducks. After she hung up the phone, Vic came back to bed, and they practiced again. Greg lasted considerably longer that time. Both were pleased with their progress.
***
SCENE TEN: FEELINGS INTO WORDS
A letter from Greg, at the refuge, to Vic, at college:
I’m a little ashamed and embarrassed to confess that I haven’t sent anything to you this week. I pretty well ran out of significant things to say on Monday. At least, I ran out of ways to make them sound interesting. All there is to tell you is that I band ducks morning and evening, drive around the refuge, work in the office, and play checkers with your dad.
Actually, that’s far from all, so I’m going to say what’s really on my mind. In your letter, you said you weren’t going to be maudlin, and you were just going to stick to the facts. That really said a lot about how you are feeling, without you actually saying it. Well, the time has come when I need to put my feelings right out front, maudlin and all. Vic, I ache for you. My body aches for you. My mind aches for you. I knew this separation was going to be difficult for us, but I never realized how difficult. It hasn’t even been two weeks, and I just feel adrift.
I look forward to making some serious physical love with you when we’re together again, but that’s not what I’m talking about now. I’m talking about how much I miss seeing you – how much I miss hearing your voice – how much I miss having conversations with you. Yes, I miss seeing your beautiful face – your lovely body – the way you move. Your voice captivates me – the way it changes when you’re being serious, and then again when there is mischief brewing. I just can’t talk with anybody else the way we talk – never have been able to – and it’s a wonder to me, and a blessing. In short, I am deeply in love with both the idea of you, and the reality of you. I love you, Victoria Anderson!
After writing this, I feel both happy and sad. I suspect you will feel the same when you read it. One thing I have realized is that three weeks is much too long to be apart. I think we should try to figure out ways to be together more often. I don’t know how, but I’m working on it.
I’m going to mail this in the morning, so you don’t have too long a gap between letters.
Love (as if you doubted it), Greg
***
CHAPTER ELEVEN: LOVE, ADVANCED SEMINAR
Vic got up from the couch, turned off the television, and went into the bathroom. When she returned, she was wearing her “surprise;” a new pair of pajamas. She modeled them as she came back into the room.
The top was an extra-long blouse, constructed like a man’s long-tailed dress shirt, but of a shiny, satiny fabric. There were buttons down the front. The bottoms were shorts, like her other pajamas, but of the same satiny material. She came into the room, and stood close in front of him.
“Where did these come from?” he asked.
“I bought them at home. If you had rifled my suitcase a little deeper, you would have found them, and ruined the surprise. I went with Mandy to buy them. I didn’t think I wanted to try to explain to my mother why I was purchasing slinky, silky nightwear for a girls’ dorm.”
“Probably wise.”
“How do you like them?”
“From what I can see, very much. The material looks very silky.”
“You can touch it – see how it feels.”
He did – in fact, he let his hands wander up and down over the whole outfit, pausing now and then to give a little longer touch. “I am finding them most inspirational.”
“I thought you would.”
She crawled into bed. He went into the bathroom. When he returned, Vic was sitting up in bed. He unbuttoned her satiny pajama top, and was soon exploring her torso with gentle fingers and lips. She was not objecting, but her mind wasn’t completely on the activity.
“Greg, do you know what college girls talk about more than anything else?”
He paused briefly. “Not knowing for sure, but guessing, it would be college boys.” His began his wanderings, again.
“Yes, but more specifically, what about college boys?”
He kissed a breast. “Again guessing, but logically, I would say sex.”
“Yes.” She seemed to be realizing his presence for the first time. “Greg, what are you doing?”
He kissed her other breast. “I am peregrinating.”
“Peregrinating? What is that?”
“Like the peregrine falcon, who acquired his name from his wanderings far and wide, I am peregrinating. The peregrine’s kingdom is more expansive than the one I survey, but no grander in detail or interest, believe me.” He accentuated that by moving his hands and his lips a little farther down her torso.
“Peregrinating. I’ve never heard it called that. Like the peregrine, you are having a good time, I take it?”
“Yes, I am. Are you?”
“I’m finding it stimulating, but it is distracting me from talking about sex.”
He raised his head to look at her. “You would rather talk about sex than….?”
She grinned at him. “I refuse to answer on the grounds… Well, you know the grounds. Suffice it to say that, in this situation, I want to talk about something specific about the subject.”
“Okay.” He raised himself up, and began to button her blouse. He went about it slowly and meticulously, then took a few more moments to make sure that it was comfortably draped over her. Only then did he lay down beside her. “Okay, woman. Talk.”
“Okay. So, as I think we’ve discussed in the past, high school girls talk about sex a lot. But their experiences are mostly what I will call ‘front car seat’ activities – going steady, kissing, and such. We knew a few girls who had clearly been in the ‘back seat’ – and we suspected some others - but for most of us, it was pretty tame stuff. Still, girls like to share, and so it was fair game to ask how many boys you’d kissed, or ‘how far’ you’d let a boy go.”
“What did you say to those questions?”
“Actually, until you – and you have been mostly after graduation – I didn’t have anything to share. I’d kissed a few boys, but you were the first one I ever kissed twice. Because all the girls recognized how ravishingly beautiful I am, they all suspected that every boy in school was after me.”
“Were they?”
“I don’t know. I never looked back. Anyway, when I’d just smile and not share anything, some of the girls thought I was wonderfully mysterious. Most of the others just thought I was snobby and selfish, not to share.
“So, anyway, skip to college. Here, everybody just seems to assume that you’ve all been in the back seat – or are trying to get there. So, the first question always becomes, are you a virgin? Few women admit they are, but I bet there are really a lot more than admit it.”
“What do you say?”
“I just smile and say, ‘My boyfriend is very attentive,’ and let them make of it what they will.”
“So, still the mysterious beauty?”
“And probably still with the same reactions of either wonder, wistfulness, or jealousy - or annoyance that I won’t share. But now we come to the second question asked: have you had an orgasm?
“An orgasm?”
“Greg, did you know that many women – maybe most women - seldom if ever have orgasms during sex?”
That stopped him for a moment. “Well, let me see. If I was sure I knew what an orgasm was… “
“Greg, you have helped me achieve two and two-thirds orgasms in only three tries, and you don’t know what an orgasm is?”
He hesitated, a little too dramatically. “Well, I wouldn’t say that I don’t know. I’d just like to hear it defined from a female perspective.”
She gave him a silent “you are a nut” look. “Well, since you ask, an orgasm is the female equivalent of what happens to you when you… what, explode?”
“Ejaculate.”
“Ejaculate. Is there such a word? It doesn’t sound very sexy.”
“How about, reach a climax?”
“Okay, I like that better. The female doesn’t have the exterior equipment to make her climax as visible and obvious as the male’s. She does, however, have body parts and areas that react similarly when stimulated similarly. From watching you - and feeling me! - I think our climaxes must be very similar.”
“Very nice explanation,” said Greg.. “Now, to clarify the question, you wonder why what you and I have been able to achieve so readily is so rare among the female population, at large?”
“Exactly.”
“Further, despite your knowing what a neophyte I am in all things related to love and sex – and having an immediate example of how little I know about orgasms – you still would like me to posit a reason?”
“If posit means to offer a possible explanation, then yes. Posit, away.”
“Okay. Well, back in the early days of our country… “
“Greg!”
“Hold on. This really is background for my positing. As I started to say, in early America, women were not supposed to be interested in sex. They were only supposed to be available to take care of their husbands’ sexual needs. If they acted like they might enjoy a little sexual stimulation of their own, they were considered brazen hussies, or worse.
“Women had been under male rules about sex for so long that probably many didn’t know that they had a right to have sexual feelings, and might even have been ashamed when they did have them. Probably, most men didn’t know there was such a thing as a female orgasm. Since I think men in general reach a climax more quickly than most women, even perceptive men might have missed any signs that their mates needed more attention. So, when the man was satisfied, the session was over.
“Along came ‘women’s lib’ and sexual freedom, and women are learning what they can achieve, and what they have a right to. Some men are learning, but it’s taking time for any real equality to develop. From what you say, having an orgasm has become the principal evidence of female sexual satisfaction, but most are still not achieving it.”
Vic seemed to be thinking about what Greg had been saying, and didn’t immediately respond. “So, assuming that your ‘posit’ is correct – or at least in the ballpark – how do things get equalized?”
“I’m glad you asked. It reminds me of something I heard in church.”
“Greg!”
“No, really. Stay with me a minute, and I think you’ll see what I mean. One of the churches I went to several times was Pentecostal. One of the things they believe in is ‘speaking in tongues.’ Are you familiar with that?”
“No.”
“Okay. Well, the story is that after Jesus left Earth, he sent down his Holy Spirit to guide Christians until he returned. When the Spirit descended – this is in the Books of Acts in the New Testament - it came on those watching and praying ‘like a mighty wind,’ and everybody started speaking in languages that they didn’t know. Some of the people in the vicinity were amazed to hear their own languages being spoken by these local people. But others weren’t hearing it that way, and suggested that the speakers were just drunk on red wine. I can relate to that!”
“Yes, you can.”
“However, the apostle Peter spoke to the crowd, and said that the speakers were not drunken, as they supposed, but were filled with the Holy Spirit. Over the years, ‘speaking in tongues’ in Christian churches became divisive. Some denominations choose to ignore it, and some think it was a one-time manifestation. The Pentecostals believe it is a gift for today, and some go so far as to suggest that you’re not really a full Christian – one ‘filled with the spirit’ – unless you speak in tongues.
“This latter belief has led to a lot of people trying everything possible to ‘speak in tongues.’ They’re told to hold their mouths a certain way when they pray, or to utter funny little syllables of their own, thinking that might encourage the ‘god words’ to come. There are dozens of suggestions offered to make it easy for the Holy Spirit to get in. It’s pretty crazy and futile, but they keep trying.
“I think the pastor at the church I visited thinks that everybody can speak in tongues, but he views it as a total package: get right with God, and lead a full, prayerful life, and when God needs you to speak in tongues, you will. He tries to discourage the obsession with ‘tongues,’ but it’s a hard sell. Everybody wants that experience.”
“Very interesting story,” said Vic, “And I think I see where you’re heading. The orgasm has become the quest – the ‘speaking in tongues’ of female sexuality – but, like any quest, you have to take the journey to get there.”
“Yep. And I guess that’s the reason that knowing about orgasms, and wanting one, is not resulting in a lot of ‘liberated’ women having them. Women need to take the initiative of ‘educating’ their partners about what they want. Men are not going to guess. Then, because men can climax so much more quickly than women, both partners have to be willing to spend the extra time necessary for equal satisfaction to occur.”
“So, how have we done so well, so quickly?”
Greg smiled at that. “I think it was mostly about lack of knowledge, and happy circumstances. First, neither of us was looking for anything in particular, except to find another way to express our love for one another. We had no preconceived notions. You were content to let me explore at will, and because you had already helped me with my orgasm, I wasn’t under any emotional pressure to speed things up. I could go on forever, just peregrinating.”
“I seriously doubt you could have gone on forever.”
“You’re right, of course. That was an overstatement. Even the strongest of us have our limits. Anyway, as I continued with my explorations, I finally found the places you needed me to find, and then you guided me to the finale. It turned out very nicely for both of us.”
“It certainly did.” Suddenly, she gave a little chuckle. “Sorry, I was just having an irrelevant – or maybe irreverent - thought. A while ago, I said something about your ideas ‘being in the ballpark.’ Do you know the baseball game that high school guys play when they’re trying to seduce girls?”
“I’m not sure I do, never having been trying to seduce high school girls, and not hanging out with the boys who were trying.”
“Well, a boy gets to first base when you let him kiss you. I forget the exact things that happen to get him around the bases, but he scores a run when… Well, you know when. What I was thinking is, that works for the man, but how does the woman rate her trip to her orgasm?”
“Oh, that’s an easy one. The early stages are pretty much the same for men and women. It’s the finale that counts. In baseball, you can reach ‘home’ a variety of ways. A pitcher can load the bases, and then walk in a run. That’s good for the team, but not very exciting. Similarly, a run could score off a wild pitch, a fielder’s error, or just a good solid infield hit. Those are a little more interesting. Then, of course, there’s the home run, often hit out of the park. That is a real thrill, but I doubt many high school seducers get their ‘score’ that way. Most of their seductions are probably pretty commonplace events.
“Now, when a woman reaches orgasm, I think that home run is a blast clear over the center field wall and out of the ball park. If the climax comes as a result of a long session with a much-loved companion, then I think it could qualify as the ultimate in home runs – a grand slam, clearing the bases, as well as the ball park, and sending the ‘players’ into exhilaration as no other ‘score’ can.”
“Wow! I almost had my fourth orgasm just listening to your description! For somebody who knows nothing about women and sex, you tell an amazing story.”
“Thank you. I can only do it because you are my inspiration. But before we get completely off this subject, I need to ask a question. It’s this: you keep describing your orgasms as two and two-thirds out of three. What was wrong with the two-thirds one? “
“Absolutely nothing! All three were wonderful. Probably the first is a little more memorable just because it was the first, but, really, they were all excellent.”
“Then, why…?”
She gave him a mischievous smile. “Well, it’s something I borrowed from the Olympics. In the Olympics, when a judge gives a skater or a gymnast a 9.8 score rather than 10, we probably can’t see anything to deduct for. A lot of the time, the performer probably can’t, either. Or a sprinter loses a race by 0.02 seconds. It looks like the same as the winner to us – a photo finish. But what do those scores mean to the athletes? The skater or gymnast knows it was a great performance, but something about it was thought less than perfect. For all practical purposes, the runner tied the winner, but – on paper - it was a second place finish. In both cases, being not quite perfect, encourages – no, it compels - them to try for a better score next time.
“In the same way, we will look at that two-thirds score, and feel compelled to improve on it next time. And I wouldn’t be surprised, if that compulsion eventually rates us not a 10, but maybe an 11 or 12. Think about that!”
“I am thinking about that. Would you like to try now for a new record?”
“Actually, if it’s all right with you, I’d just like to go to sleep in your arms, and maybe dream about the next time.”
“That is very fine with me.”
Later that night, they awoke, and moved the count to three and three-quarters.
And that’s how October 1 ended.
To the Writing It Down Homepage
Why don’t you leave a comment?