On Saturday, Ryan and I sit in a booth at Joe's Garage Bar
waiting for his friend's band, Rebel Orgasm, to begin. We talk and eat
fried chicken strips and sweet potato fries. We lean towards each other to hear
what’s being said over the first band’s loud music. All the time, I catch his
intent look with my own, then run my fingers through my hair - something I read
in Cosmo that guys interpret as flirting. I don't really care
if any of this makes sense or is right. At this moment it's just fun.
Rebel Orgasm starts a series of rock and punk
covers. We move closer to the band, standing with other groupies, and Ryan
slips his arm around my waist. I put my hand around Ryan's waist as he
rubs along my side, stopping briefly when he gets to my breast. I hardly breathe
so he doesn't quit. I feel like I'm 25 and not 50. Jane’s words
come back to me: confidence is sexy, so I ignore the slight beer headache that
the band's amps have intensified.
Sean the drummer comes over at the break. He and Ryan
exchange critiques about the last couple songs and then Ryan introduces me.
“Ah, so you're Jackie,” Sean smiles as he seems
to appraise me. “Ry here has talked about you a lot! You're right,
man; she’s cute.”
He talks about me a lot? Before I can say anything, though,
Ryan grasps Sean’s shoulder. “Well, great set, man. We have to go, but
have fun with the rest.” Sean slaps Ryan’s shoulder and turns towards the
bar and the college girl groupies. Ryan turns me towards the door.
Just as we get to his car, Ryan leans down and suddenly
takes my face in his hands and kisses me. It’s not just a peck on the
mouth – not just a “mom” kiss – but a deep, intense kiss, and I can't help
but kiss back. Somehow I knew he'd be a great kisser. I draw in a
breath as he pulls away.
“I've wanted to do that for a long time.” His hands
are on my upper arms but I can still feel the leather
from his gloves holding my face.
“I’m glad you did it now,” I gasp a little, my breath and
head still a little unhinged. “That was … well, that hasn't happened
in a long time.”
“You are amazing,” His voice is a little rough from either
the beer or the cold … or the kiss.
“I always thought I looked my best under the yellow glow of
a streetlight,” and I try to give a silly smile. I also try to regain my
sense of control instead of throwing myself down on the snowy ground shouting
“Take me now!” Luckily, Ryan opens for me the door of his 2005 Pontiac
Grand Am.
Instead of returning to our neighborhood, he drives up to
the top of the ridge south of the cities. He pulls into a small turnout
and turns off the car. The snow glows against the night sky. Below us the
Christmas light displays, street lights and tail lights
outline the darker rivers. It’s a clear night with a moon that has a
slight piece shaved off its side.
“This is beautiful.”
“I know. I love coming up here.” Ryan’s hand grasps
my upper thigh.
“The first time I ever went parking was in a Chevy,”
I blurt out without much forethought. “It was with Steve Simon in his family’s
Caprice Classic. That car had a front bench seat that was the size of a
small bed.” I lean back with my eyes closed. “That was a great
car.”
Suddenly I feel Ryan’s lips on mine. I open my eyes a
moment and then shut them again. He starts to reach inside my coat and
pull me towards him. Then he stops.
“Damn it! This stupid steering wheel and center console!”
Ryan growls with frustration. “Let's go somewhere more comfortable. We're fogging
up the window anyway.”
Before I can answer, he starts up the engine and reaches
for the radio. Heavy guitars, drums, and angry incomprehensible voices
blare, and the noise quickly breaks my mood. Ryan doesn't seem
to mind the volume level, in fact he turns it up, and it’s all I can do
not to put my fingers in my ears.
This is Ben’s music and it reminds me
that Ryan’s closer to Ben’s age than my own.
“Chaotic Flesh! I love these guys,” Ryan says loudly over
what to me sounds like noise, and he hits the steering wheel in time to the
loudly pulsing bass.
“Chaotic what?” I shout back. My headache returns and I'm glad we're almost
back to our neighborhood.
“Chaotic Flesh! They're one of the bands that I
really relate to.” He pulls up in front of the apartments and turns off the
engine, the silence as shocking as the music had been. “You want to come
in?”
I feel old, and the whole memory of the kissing, while
nice, makes me a bit queasy since I've had our age difference thrown back at
me. “Um, no. I have a bit of a
headache and the Johnson Shoes story is due soon so I have an early morning of writing waiting.”
Ryan brushes his thick hair away, looks deeply at me with those amazing eyes and leans over
to kiss me one more time. “Ok. I expect a poke tonight.”
“Well, thanks for the nice evening.” I work my pile of coat
and boots out the door. “I'm not going to be on-line
tonight, but maybe tomorrow.” As I walk up my sidewalk and Ryan drives
away, the bass audible for the length of the block, fatigue replaces my laissez-faire attitude. It’s about 2 am and I've been
up since 6 yesterday morning. I might have felt in my 20s earlier, but
now I'm definitely 50.
Sunday Jane calls. “So? What happened? Spill,
girlfriend.”
“Nothing. We kissed and that’s about it. He’s a
great kisser, and we were having a really good time, but I couldn't forget the age gap and I just lost the whole feeling. I came home instead of going to
his place.”
“WHAT? You had him asking you to his place and you
said NO?” Jane voice registers an intense case of
shock-and-awe. “What’s the deal about the age gap?”
“Well, his music was so much like Ben’s, and although
Ryan and I can talk about books, last night reminded me that I'm 50 and have so
little else in common with him.”
“But this isn't about having anything in common.
This is about getting some good sex with a hard-body guy. You aren't marrying
him yet, are you?”
“Um, no. And his touch does wake up with a
vengeance long dormant parts of me.”
“Then get back in there, Jackie! You just need to
overcome your nervousness and get laid. Then you'll be set to really re-enter
this dating world. I’d send over Haruko – he does amazing things with
chopsticks – but he’s returning to Tokyo today since his week as a visiting
scholar here is done.”
Really? Chopsticks? I always marvel at Jane’s quest. Still,
there’s merit in everything else she’s said.
The next few days, though, work has me too busy for even
Facebook. By Wednesday evening, I have the writing caught up and Jane’s words come
back to me. I check Facebook. Sure enough, Ryan had left a poke. I poke
back. He immediately responds.
Hey, long
time no hear.
Yeah, well I
had a lot to do on the Johnson City Shoes story.
I’m getting
ready to stream the Bearcats’ men’s basketball game on TV. Want to come over?
I put away my fears. “Confidence
is sexy,” I say out loud. Sure. I’ll be
over in 15 minutes.
Great. Just
text me when you're here and I'll let you in.
As I stand outside the apartment building's glass door, I shiver from the cold and nerves while watching Ryan
come down the stairs. Just I walk in, he grabs me and kisses me hard. “Hi,” he
whispers in that sexy rough voice and leads me upstairs.
“Here it is. Home sweet home. And the roommate’s
out for the night.” He hasn't let go of my hand.
Ryan throws my coat on a plastic table with three mismatched garage-sale chairs and disappears into the kitchen. The room is done in Typical
Student Dorm with mass-produced cheap particle
board shelves, a purple and burnt orange shag rug, and a broken-in gold-upholstered couch a grandmother probably once covered with plastic. The surprisingly well-kept mid-century coffee table has a bowl of Chex-Mix and a half-finished bottle of Yungling. On the wall is a huge television.
Ryan returns with a bottle of
beer which he hands to me. “Do you like the T.V.? It’s a Sharp 90” LED Flat-panel. Great picture.”
While he juggles a trio of remotes and gets the pre-game
show on, I gulp down a swallow of beer and then remind myself to take it slow.
Last thing I want is to be a little buzzed. I sit down, straighten my red
button-down blouse, take off my shoes, and shake out my mass of hair, all
hoping I look sexy and not clumsy.
Ryan, having gotten the TV on the right channel, reaches over and kisses me insistently. I fall back, bump my
head on the hard couch arm and then try inconspicuously to slip down onto the cushion without breaking the kiss. Just as I get arranged, Ryan sits up.
“Let’s get rid of these things," and he pulls his shirt over his head – exposing impeccable pecs and six pack – and then
stands up to take off his jeans and hops a little when his feet get caught. Successful, he stands up again, looking like he’s in an
advertisement for boxer brief underwear. Breathe, Jackie! I really hope Jane’s
right about how men respond to naked women.
I stand up too. Ok, here goes nothing. I
quickly unbutton my blouse, slip off my jeans, and then take off my bra, keeping
my eyes on the floor. He doesn't laugh. I look up, and he looks like he's watching a live Playboy Bunny of the Month. I must be really confident!
Ryan pushes me onto the couch, leans against me
again - I avoid the couch arm this time - and starts a trail of kisses from my neck to my breasts. He lifts one
breast and then the other, licking around each nipple and then underneath each breast.
Oh my god! I had really forgotten how amazing this feels. He continues to move
down my stomach, which I suck in to minimize the rolls, and then he pulls off my panties.
At this point, he sits back and slips off his red
Jockeys, and I struggle to keep my surprise off my face. He’s
tiny! I mean, he looks like he just stepped out of a Polar Bear Swim. He can't
be longer than my thumb. I knew it! I must have misread his earlier look. My body can't be appealing to him since he
can't possibly be erect.
Before I can think this through much more, he
bends back down and settles between my legs. “Mmmm,” he mumbles. His tongue starts flicking back and forth, and I don't know
whether to grab hold of the couch or his head. I have completely forgotten anything I was thinking about before. “YES! KEEP GOING!” I yell. And he does. His incredible
shoulders push up my thighs and his arms reach along beside my hips.
Everything inside me starts vibrating and I can't
quite focus. I close my eyes and picture his amazing body. I can feel myself
climaxing, and then my mental picture gets to his penis. His very tiny penis. That
was not what I was expecting. The encroaching orgasm starts to fade and the sound from the television breaks in. Then I
realize he’s no longer doing anything.
“YEAH! Slam DUNK!”
I lift my head and see Ryan sitting back
watching the game. What?? At that moment, he grabs his beer.
“Did you see that? Jason Brimson just slam DUNKED
that ball!” He unwraps himself from my legs and leans forward.
I lay there stunned for a moment, wondering what
just happened. This is the great sex Kim talked about? I put my clothes back on. Ryan sits completely
caught up in the game. As I finish getting on my shoes and look around for my
coat, he finally notices me again.
“Hey, where are you going? You haven't finished
your beer.”
“I'm heading home. You seem a bit engrossed and I’m
not really a basketball fan.” I pull on my gloves and open the door.
“I'll be poking you later!” Ryan calls over his
shoulder.
I won’t be poking back.
Posted by Jackie Connolly