Chapter 31: Declarations of Love, Part II

February 1978

The incessant ringing of my alarm woke me from a dream. Or rather, a nightmare. Jennifer and I had broken up and weren’t even speaking to each other. I was rattled and shaking when I got out of bed.

A long, warm shower didn’t help much, though I stopped shaking. I had a sense of foreboding that I could not overcome. Someone was going to be hurt badly. Becky. Jennifer. Birgit. Me. And depending on the outcome, it could be all of us. As much as Birgit insisted that we had to grow before we could be sure, I think both of us would be hurt if the other one found a different life partner. When I got out of the shower, I decided I had to call her.

The lilting sound of Swedish greeting me.

“Hi, Birgit.”

“Hi, Steve, «älskling». How are you?”

“Not good.”

“Why?”

I tried to explain the situation as best I could in a short amount of time. She just listened.

“So what are you going to do?”

“What can I do? She’s right. I have to know.”

“Yes.”

“This is why you insisted on me dating and being with other girls, isn’t it.”

“Yes. When you are mine, you have to know. No questions. No second thoughts. Just mine. Forever.”

“You’re a smart girl Birgit.”

“I love you, Steve Adams!”

“I love you, Birgit Andersson!”

“«Hej då».”

“«Hej då».”

I felt a little better. But that sense of doom was still there.

Larry and his mom picked me up. In May he’d be sixteen and would be able to drive himself. His grandpa had already bought him a car, a Mazda, that was waiting only for Larry to get a driving license. That would be so cool. Mine was still more than a year away. And I didn’t think my grandpa would buy me a car.

Mrs. Higgins dropped us at a Protestant church where the tournament was being held. We went to the basement where we found rows of tables. We went to the board to check our pairings. Jennifer and Mary arrived shortly after us. Both came up and hugged me.

Jennifer looked to be in better shape than I was. She asked, “What’s wrong, Steve?”

“I had a nightmare where we broke up and we weren’t talking and it’s really bothering me.”

She hugged me tight and said, “Don’t worry. Things are going to work out.”

I wasn’t so sure. What I was sure of was that I wasn’t ready to play chess.

From the opening move of the opening game, I knew I was doomed. Over the course of the two days, I scored exactly one point. And that was two draws as white. A terrible showing. Jennifer and Mary both managed to win two games and draw a third for 2 1/2 points. Larry, now playing in the tougher B-level managed 3 1/2 points. They were all happy. I wasn’t.

They all tried to cheer me up, but only Jennifer understood. My mind just wasn’t on chess. It couldn’t be. I took Jennifer aside to talk to her before Mr. van Hoek arrived. I had to be absolutely sure.

First, I told her about my call with Birgit.

She laughed. “She and I agree on this completely. But it’s easier for her because she’s in Sweden. And if I understand you, the connection we have isn’t there with her, at least not in the same way or intensity.”

I nodded. “Are you sure about your plan? Completely sure?”

“It’s the only way to know. Go make love with her. Come back and talk to me.”

I hugged her and went to look for Mr. van Hoek with fear and trepidation. Was I doing the right thing? Was I going to hurt Becky? Was I going to hurt Jennifer? Would I lose one of them? Both of them? All of them? I was a wreck.

Becky noticed, of course. But she couldn’t ask while we were driving to her house. We arrived and went inside. After taking off our coats and shoes we went to sit on the couch in the great room. We cuddled in our usual way, her lying across my lap, my arms around her, and hers around me.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m struggling with so many things right now. Our situation. Chess. Birgit. My relationship with other girls; the whole thing. I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re really driving yourself crazy.”

“Yeah. I am.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could help.”

Maybe she could, maybe she couldn’t. Only one way to find out. Push forward.

“What is it that you want from me? From our relationship?”

“I told you before. Don’t you remember?”

“I want to hear it again and discuss it.”

“If I could have anything, anything at all that I wanted, like with three wishes from a genie in a bottle, it would be to marry you, to have your children, and to live happily ever after.”

“And you really want that? At fifteen? Do you really know that’s what you want? That I’m the guy?”

“Yes.”

“Is it really that simple? High School, college, work; what if you meet someone else? You haven’t really dated, how do you know?”

“I just know. I know that I love you. I loved you from the first moment I saw you. I can’t explain it. It’s just the way it is.”

“But you know I can’t make that kind of commitment at this point. I’m not even fifteen yet! I want to go to college. Then, of course, there’s Birgit, and other complications as well.”

“Jennifer.”

“Yes, Jennifer. You aren’t the only one who loves me. And you aren’t the only one I love.”

“But you do love me.”

“Yes. But it’s not that simple. We both have so much of our lives to live before we can make the kind of commitment you seem to want. What if I go to college out of state? What if we’re apart for a long time?”

“I don’t know.”

“Exactly. I need to tell you something. I was going to wait, but now I can’t. I’m going to apply to be an exchange student next Fall and I will most likely spend my Junior year out of the country.”

“Sweden.”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Birgit.”

“Right.”

“Oh. I guess if that’s what you need to do, then you need to do it.”

“And if I did, I’d be seeing Birgit a lot. And we’ve made love. We’d make love again. Probably a lot.”

“I know,” she said softly.

“And you know there are other girls that I’m seeing, too.”

“Yes.”

“I made love with Jennifer on Friday night.”

“What?!” she gasped, sounding anguished. “I thought you guys weren’t doing that! You told me that! That’s one of the reasons you gave for not wanting to be with me! Why?” Becky was in tears at that point. “Are you breaking up with me?”

She sounded just like I did. But I couldn’t give her the same level of reassurance that Jennifer gave me.

“Becky, you know I’m trying to figure things out. And that’s what Jennifer and I needed to do.”

“So what about me?”

“That’s up to you.”

“What do you mean, up to me?”

“Making love. It’s up to you.”

“But ... wait! I don’t get it. What about Jennifer?”

“She told me to do it.”

“Now I’m totally confused,” she said, sounding exasperated.

“Me too,” I said. “Let me try to explain. This all started with Birgit. I told you how after she and I made love and she went home, she told me to basically experience life to its fullest. She wanted me to date, even to fall in love. To know beyond any doubt that when we were together that’s what I wanted. That I could make an exclusive, life-long commitment to her with no hesitations or reservations.

“It’s really smart, actually. If I simply avoided relationships and saved myself for her for ten years, I would never grow, never learn, and never experience the things that I needed to in order to give myself utterly and completely to her. She’s dating as well, but I get the feeling she’s made up her mind to not have sex, at least for now.

“I don’t claim to understand her, but maybe girls handle it differently. I’m not going to argue with her. She has a plan and she’s following it. And, to some extent, so am I. Though I’m not sure she bargained for Jennifer. But she’s dealing with it. Fairly well, I might say. Much better than I am.

“Ultimately, I think Jennifer has come to the same conclusion. She knows I love you. She knows you love me and want to make love with me. She knows you want a long-term relationship with me. So does she. She’s convinced though, that if she tells me to stop seeing you, then I would forever wonder what might be, forever wonder if I had missed an opportunity and that could destroy our relationship. In the end, it’s up to you. I can’t commit in the way you want. I can’t promise anything. So the question remains. What do you want? What do you expect?”

“I want you, Steve. Right now. No hesitation on my part. Without any promises from you except that you’ll make me feel good; that you’ll love me. I’ll deal with whatever happens after that.”

“Are you really sure that’s what you want?”

“Oh God, yes! Please! I need you. I can’t stand it. I want to do everything. I want to feel everything.”

I hoped that the sense of doom that had enveloped me all weekend was related to the chess tournament. I didn’t feel it now, so I let her get up, take my hand and lead me from the couch. She led me to the stairs. As we walked past the study, I saw Mr. van Hoek reading the paper. I was sure he saw us. He didn’t say anything or even move. She led me upstairs to her room, pulled me in, and shut the door.

She moved around the room lighting candles. She lit some incense that smelled like lavender. She turned off the lights except for a soft one above her canopy bed. The scene looked like something out of a Disney movie. She put on music, a smooth jazz station by what I could tell.

I noticed a washbasin on a table near her bed with water, a bar or soap, and a couple of towels. Her dad wasn’t kidding when he said she had prepared her room. I guessed it was like this last time and I had refused her. As scared as she had been, she had been sure.

She came to me. “Nobody will bother us.”

“Becky, tell me what you need.”

“I want to rip your clothes off and just do it. But I think it will be better if we go slow and take our time. I remember how excited you made me when we sat on the sofa last Sunday. Can we do that? Take our time? Do all those things you asked me if I had ever done? And more?”

I didn’t detect any fear at all. This was a new Becky. I still thought there was a chance that she would be scared and nervous. If she was shaking like last time, I might have to make her stop. I just didn’t think it would be good for her if she were that afraid. But only time would tell.

“Yes, Becky.”

She sighed deeply. It was a contented sigh. One that said she was getting what she wanted; what she’d anticipated for months; what she had been afraid to do; what she needed.

I led her to the couch and we sat in the same position as we had been downstairs. We kissed gently and just cuddled. She wanted a slow build-up and I could do that. I would enjoy that.

It was odd, actually. In none of the times I’d had sex, was there ever a slow buildup. It’s not as if there wasn’t kissing and licking and sucking, but it went to the main event, so to speak, fairly quickly. This was going to be different.

I started slowly moving my hands over her arms and shoulders. Just gently rubbing her. I didn’t feel any tension and she wasn’t shaking. I began to explore a bit, running my finger along the edge of her bra. She kissed me hard when I did that, clearly anticipating the touches to come.

I traced around her small breasts and then gently drew my finger across each nipple in turn. She shuddered. This wasn’t fear, it was intense arousal. I remembered her warning that sex with her might kill me. I thought she might be right.

I started to unbutton her blouse. With each button, I stopped and kissed her and traced the skin that became visible. When I released the last button, I ran my fingers gently over her stomach for a moment, and then ran my index finger along the top edge of her jeans. She shuddered again.

We worked together to remove her blouse. No folding this time and it ended up on the floor, not the table. I shifted my position slightly so I could kiss her bare shoulders. I nuzzled her neck and planted small kisses under her chin. We exchanged a deep tongue kiss that took my breath away.

She reached over and began unbuttoning my dress shirt, planting little kisses just above each button. When she reached the last one, she ran her hands over my chest and pushed my shirt off my shoulders. She helped me remove my arms from the sleeves and dropped the shirt on the floor.

I gasped when her mouth locked into my nipple. Nobody had actually done that before. She teased it with her tongue and my erection got even harder. I knew that I was going to have to have a release before we actually made love or I’d ruin everything. I groaned.

She released me and smiled. “Liked that, did you?”

“Yes.”

“There’s lots more.”

I wasn’t going to survive. This was different from with Jennifer. This wasn’t a connection of two souls. This was erotic. Intense. Pure sexuality. But given in love by a young woman that I loved as well. This was love being expressed without words.

This was somehow different from Birgit or Jennifer, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. All of a sudden I was scared. Now I was the one who was afraid. I was the one who felt like bolting from the room. If I went through with this, I was giving up Jennifer. I knew it. But like a moth to a flame, I couldn’t stop.

I slid my finger under the strap of Becky’s bra and pushed it down. I did the same for the one on the other side. Slowly tracing my finger along her chest, I slipped it under the top of her bra to feel the small mound. I pushed a little further and ran my finger over that puffy nipple. She moaned into my mouth as we kissed.

She sat up a bit and I reached around to unhook her bra. I dropped it on the floor and bent down to lick first her left then her right nipple. I took the right one into my mouth. I found that I could fit her entire breast. I suckled it like I was a baby which elicited a groan and shudder from Becky.

“Oh my! Oh my!” she gasped.

I continued to use my tongue on her nipple while I slid my hand down her stomach and under the waistband of her panties. My fingers encountered that small patch of soft pubic hair. I twirled my fingers lightly in it. I released her breast from my mouth and kissed her, hard.

Ever so slowly I slipped my hand further down finding the top of her labia. Extending my middle finger I gently rubbed. She was, as she had told me the previous week, sopping wet. I pulled my hand out from her pants and raised my finger to my lips.

She watched intently as I licked her juices from my finger and then sucked it into my mouth to finish cleaning it. I repeated the steps a second time. And a third. Each time savoring the taste of her. I couldn’t quite place it, spicy, sweet, tangy, and coppery with a hint of herbal soap. I loved it.

I moved my fingers to the button of her jeans and undid it and then pulled down the zipper. I slipped my hands inside her panties and began massaging her mons and labia. She was moaning continually now. Did I want to give her an orgasm now? Or tease her for a huge build-up?

She wasn’t pressing against my hand, so there was no urgency from her. I cupped her mons and probed gently with my index finger between her labia. They parted easily and her juices allowed me to slip slightly into her tunnel. It was snug, but I was sure I wouldn’t have any trouble. She was such a small girl who I had been afraid that would be an issue.

I probed a bit and found an intact hymen. One that seemed like it would be tougher to penetrate than the others I had encountered. None of them had really hurt - a pinch, a slight twinge. This might actually hurt.