Chapter 2: The Gummy Worm Fish - Part 3

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

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