Sharon and I grew up in the same neighborhood and attended the same schools. It was always Sharon and Jason. She was all my firsts, eagerly taken, eagerly given. More importantly, she was the first woman who loved me and whom I loved. You never forget your first love. I'll never forget Sharon. We pledged undying love to each other from the time we were thirteen.
Things change. After high school graduation, she went to Europe for the summer before attending a college back east. I was enrolled in our state university. Europe and back east was a ploy by her parents to separate us. I knew that the moment she told me. I was angry: angry at them for separating us and angry at Sharon for acquiescing to her banishment.
I loved her. And I loved sex with her. Sharon was hot, full of sexual energy and desire which she directed at the man in her life. I'd been that man since her sexual beginnings. I wanted to be that man forever. Back east, she found a new man, some guy she met at school. Eight weeks into the school year, she was pregnant and married. Sharon was gone from my life.
I pledged a fraternity during rush week. It became the basis of my social life. I wasn't looking for a life partner or any other term denoting a female acquired for a lifetime. I had a strong interest in dating and sex. Fortunately, the upperclass women dating my fraternity brothers made it their business to arrange dates for any important event. They defined important as any block of time not occupied by class. I was in full swing on the dating scene two weeks after I pledged.
By my junior year, I was pursued as a good date, fun and with no commitment hassle. I always had a date, sometimes dating two or three women at a time. It was excellent practice in scheduling if nothing else.
Each fall, the fraternity held "mixers," inviting newcomers to meet the fraternity brothers. The mixer was held jointly with a sorority. They invited the females. It was always a lively party and a great way to meet people of both sexes.
Debbie was at the first mixer my junior year.
She was in the big party room in the basement dancing with some freshman who looked like Tom Cruise. The first thing I noticed was her face. It was expressive and beautiful. She wore a short, tight, red skirt which accentuated her beautiful ass and legs. The skirt left little to the imagination, although I was visualizing her without it. Other dancers flowed by, blocking my view and ending what I'd planned as an extended evaluation. The next time I looked for her, she was gone.
After the party, a bunch of us went to the campus hangout for pizza. Debbie was there, but without the Cruise look alike. Cheryl saw me looking at her.
"Want an introduction, Jason?" she asked sweetly.
"Oh, ummm, no, thanks anyway, Cheryl."
"Well, just let me know."
Cheryl Jacobson dated Ralph Winston, our fraternity president. This made her our unofficial "first lady", a nonexistent function she took seriously. She viewed part of her imaginary job as yenta, which for non-Yiddish speakers is a matchmaker. That wasn't bad for us guys in the fraternity. Cheryl knew every good-looking girl in all the best sororities. She did have a knack for being a yenta. She had introduced several couples who were going to try to make a lifetime of it. Cheryl knew of my predilection for noninvolvement and some of the reason why. She'd let me cry on her shoulder once or twice.
As the semester progressed, I'd see Debbie at the parties, which I attended with religious fervor. Don't think I wasn't dating or getting laid. This story isn't about my sexual escapades. This is about a special woman and love.
Debbie was fun and positive, quickly developing the reputation as a great date. I don't mean sex. She was nicknamed "no deal Debbie." I mean the guys who went out with her always felt she was special and she made them feel special.
When we bumped into each other, Debbie and I talked. We started as all couples do: exploratory inanities leading to deeper discussions which revealed ourselves except what we held dearest. From the beginning, I felt comfortable with her.
Cheryl called me one morning before class.
"Jason, there's someone I want you to meet. Be at The Corner Shoppe at twelve thirty and we'll have lunch."
"I've got a class then, Cheryl, but thanks."
"Jason, I know your schedule. Your last class ends at eleven. I'll see you there promptly at twelve thirty."
Cheryl was a good yenta. It was hard to tell her 'no'. I arrived at the small cafe just off campus at the appointed hour. She saw me coming and met me half way.
"This girl's something special. I'm sure you'll like her, Jason."
She held my hand in a bear-trap grip as she dragged me toward the table.
It was Debbie. She had a funny expression as I sat down. Cheryl excused herself, leaving us alone. It was our first time together.
"If you want to leave, you can. It's unfair for me to trap you like this, but... "
I blushed, although why an adult male would blush in this situation is beyond me.
"...why haven't you asked me for a date?" she asked, her eyes piercing mine.
Maybe it was because I'd held my feelings in so long, sharing only a little with Ralph and Cheryl. Maybe it was Debbie. I felt she honestly wanted to know about me. Maybe it was me, feeling differently about her than any woman I'd met. Whatever it was, I told her. I told her about me. About Sharon. About everything.
She listened intently. She did want to know me. She began talking about herself, letting me know her. Lunch passed into dinner, daylight into dark. We left the restaurant to wander the campus, sitting in this building or on that bench, lost in each other. Somewhere I took her hand. Energy flowed between us.
Debbie was unlike any woman I'd dated. She was sweet and feminine, soft and alluring. She was intelligent with a quick laugh. She also had a backbone of steel and a mental toughness. The combination was appealing.
We ended in the lobby of her dorm. Although men were in and out of the womens' rooms at all hours, she didn't invite me up. We kissed warmly. It was a perfect first kiss.
"I'd like to go out with you. Please call me," she said.
"I will," I promised.
I gave her three minutes to get to her room. I called from the pay phone in the dorm's lobby and made a date for the following night.
As I walked to my car, I knew my life would never be the same. I don't know if I realized it was love.
We began dating: movies, concerts, pizza, and, most often, going somewhere to talk. I didn't push her sexually, which surprised me. I found out much later, it surprised her, too. For two months the relationship ripened yet still we only kissed.
Then, one day, I had to have her. After making sure my roommates would be out, I took her to my apartment. As I led her toward the bedroom, she stopped me.
"Jason, let's stay in here."
"If I go in there with you, we'll make love. I'm not ready for that. Oh, I'm ready physically. I want you." She blushed as she stammered out, "I'm not a virgin, but I promised myself I'd be celibate until... Please, stay in here."
Over the next two weeks, we made increasing progress in the mating ritual. Debbie had luscious breasts, tender, sweet and sensitive. She had delicious thighs, soft yet firm. Debbie had everything.
One night, we planned to go to a movie, but she suggested we go to my place.
"Can we talk?" she asked. I had never seen an expression like hers. It was love, wanting, adoration, desire and warmth all rolled into one. She sat on the couch and took my hands in hers.
"Jason, I know you want me. I want you every bit as much. I want to feel you in me. And I want more. I want forever. I love you."
She waited as I digested what she had said. Her statement surprised me. I don't know why. It was obvious she loved me. I loved her, too.
"If you ask me to, I'll come to you now. But please, let's wait. I'll joyfully come to you when you're ready for forever."
The next week I took her home to meet my parents. I met her parents when they visited her on campus. A few weeks later, she cooked a wonderful dinner at my apartment. Afterward, we sat on the couch, sipping wine. Her feet were in my lap.
"I'm ready," I said. She froze and a strange look came over her face.
"For what?" she asked, her voice tight.
"For forever. I love you, Debbie. Will you marry me?"
She quivered, red faced with tears rushing down her cheeks. Then she exploded, landing on me, burying me in hot, hard kisses. She madly unbuckled my belt and yanked down my trousers.
"Thank god," she muttered hotly, "I finally get you in me."
She stood and dropped her sweat suit and panties. She fell back on the floor, pulling me between her legs.
"Fuck me good, Jason. I've waited a long time for this." She thrust against me, pleading, "Fuck me, Jason. Oh, yes. Yes."
We fit together perfectly.
When round one was over, I carried her to the bedroom. We fucked until I couldn't stand. As she lay in my arms, I said, "I take that as a yes."
"Yes, my love. I'll marry you," she whispered.
We lived together my senior year and married after my graduation. Our life was a continual honeymoon, blessed with children in our third and fifth years of marriage.
When I got the announcement of my tenth high school reunion, I was excited about going. I wanted to see my old friends and I wanted to show off Debbie. Everyone was there: all the guys, all the girls. We laughed at the changes: baldness, pot bellies, spare tires, wrinkles. We were growing older, but I thought we still looked good.
Sharon was there, too. She looked like a wet dream. She was across the big ballroom when I spotted her.
"Is that Sharon?" Debbie asked, her fingers tight around my arm.
"Yes. How could you tell?"
"Women know these things, Jason."
In a few minutes, Sharon was beside me. She was bubbling and lively. She was divorced. She was very interested in me. Debbie watched her like a hawk.
As we talked, my old desires for Sharon flared. As much as I loved Debbie, Sharon turned me on. Way on. I felt guilty as hell, but there it was: I wanted Sharon.
When Sharon left, Debbie's eyes burned into me. "Jason, we've never lied to each other. Trust is very important." She hesitated. Her nails dug into my arm. "She turns you on, doesn't she?"
"Yes, she turns me on. But, honey... "
She covered my lips with hers.
"It's okay. I understand."
If Debbie was upset by Sharon, it didn't show. She had a wonderful time. Later, I saw the two of them talking. The hair on my neck stood up. Whatever could they be discussing? Debbie walked back to me with a smile on her face.
"Everything all right?" I asked.
"Of course. Ready to go?"
"It's a little early."