Chapter 5: Cooley’s House And A Different Kind Of Dance

The weekend was the usual, filled with chores and homework and goofing off. I went to the movies with Jeffy and a couple of other guys on Saturday night, but I can’t tell you what we saw.

I was thinking about Melissa and trying to imagine what she looked like naked, and what I was going to do with her. But we had that other problem to solve first, where and when would we not be disturbed. I was coming up with nothing and this was a problem that had to be solved. Realistically, it couldn’t happen before next weekend, because either of us getting out on a school night was going to be impossible.

Sunday I started working on a term paper for English, which was just as exciting as it sounds but had to be done. I watched the first “Porky’s” on DVD which only got me horny again. My sister poked her head in and ran off to tell my mother,

“Tom’s watching dirty movies again,” she yelled.

My mother checked in on me and relented when she saw what it was (even if she didn’t approve of the movie, it wasn’t a “dirty” movie). She, to her credit, made a passing comment to my sister that it wasn’t nice to be a tattletale.

Which made me think about my sister and why she was such a pain. I think she resented my being able to do things she wasn’t allowed to (I was older, of course, so duh), so she got back at me by provoking me with her name-calling and tale-telling.

I don’t know if that was the right analysis, but it sounded right to me, and I realized, stupidly, that I no longer had to put up with it. So the next time she popped out of her room for more snacks, I sent a quiet “Tom’s a nice guy, don’t be so hard on him” her way. We’ll see what happens.

So Monday morning, back to school and the grind. It was made more bearable by occasionally seeing Melissa in the halls and sharing a smile. I even got to sit with her at lunch once. Apparently she and her coterie had reached a truce and they were now buddies again, so they ate lunch together most of the time.

I was still getting the glares from the harpies but not, I noticed, from Patsy, whose face wasn’t really friendly but at least it wasn’t hostile. So I made a mental note to isolate each of them and give them the approval message I had transmitted to Patsy. Time would tell if this works.

I’ll skip the boring details of the rest of the school week. The only interesting thing to happen, and it was huge, was that Melissa pulled me aside between classes on Wednesday.

“My parents are going out of town Saturday morning for my cousin’s engagement party. They won’t be back till late Sunday, and I’m supposed to stay with one of my girlfriends Saturday night so I won’t be home alone. I’ll have to figure this out, because they may call my friend’s mother to check that it’s okay. If they don’t, I might be able to get my friend to cover for me.”

“That’s great,” I said, “but what if they do call the parental unit?”

“I don’t know. I have to think about this.” The bell sounded the beginning of the period, so we each had to run, but things were looking up, maybe.

On Friday, we had another quick open locker meeting between classes and she said, with a smile, “They left it to me to arrange who I’ll stay with, and I’m supposed to call them Saturday night and check in. I’ve done a similar favor for Sheila Foley and she owes me. So if anyone asks, I stayed with her.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard since the last school snow closure. Even better, in fact. Wait, what about your neighbors, won’t they know your parents are away?”

“It’s covered. The Martins next door are away in Florida till the end of the month. And the people around the corner just moved in, and my parents haven’t met them yet.”

“Okay, what time?” I asked.

“How about late afternoon, say four?”

We went off to our respective classes, but then an odd thing happened. Time started running slower. I’d glance at the clock, sure that we were close to the end of the period but only five minutes had elapsed. The whole rest of the day was like that. The wait for the final bell was interminable.

I realized that I’d have to make my own alibi, so I cornered Frankie Binkowski on the way out and asked if I could use him for a contact if my parents called. He had his own phone line in his room, so no one would answer it but him. “What’s up, Carter? Planning a little party? How come I’m not invited?”

“Frankie, it’s a very small party, you’d be a third wheel, if you get my meaning. How about it?”

“Okay, but you owe me one.”

So off home. Over dinner, I mentioned to my parents that I was going to play lasertag on Saturday, and then go to the movies after. “Okay if I stay over at Frankie’s house tomorrow night?”

“Sure, dear, have fun.”

I was absolutely certain that I was going to have fun. I went up to my bedroom and into the closet, where I had my hidey-hole, the place I kept the things I didn’t want my parents or sister to find, like my porn stash (it wasn’t much of a stash, but it sounds better to call it that), and a few condoms I had acquired. I checked that they were still within their expiration date, and they were okay.

Friday night till four Saturday afternoon. That was way too long. I’d never make it, I’d go crazy before then. But I realized that I’d make myself crazy by thinking about this too much, so I forced myself to do some homework while I waited. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about that on Sunday. I finished my math and worked some more on my term paper.

Saturday came at last, and I started worrying about everything. What if she changed her mind? What if the engagement was called off and her parents came home early? What if a neighbor saw me going into the house?

Well, maybe I could plan for the last one. I went over to Jeffy’s house and asked if I could borrow his brother’s pizza delivery getup. His brother was off at college so he wouldn’t need it anytime soon. I told Jeffy it was for a prop for a play my sister’s class was putting on. We’d had pizza last night for dinner, so we still had the empty box. I put a change of clothes in a plastic bag along with some snack bags and the condoms and put them in the box in the garage.

The clock just crawled, but soon enough it was time to leave. I grabbed my overnight bag (empty; my clothes were in the pizza box) and went out the back door. “Bye, Mom, see ya tomorrow.”

I slipped into the garage and grabbed the jacket and hat, put them under my arm and went off with the pizza box. Around the corner from her house I stopped and put on the jacket and cap with “Angelo’s” embroidered on it boldly, and carrying the box flat on my palm went up to her door and rang the bell. She answered the door and her face registered confusion. “We didn’t order any ... Tom,” she whispered, “what are you doing?”

“Just in case the neighbors are watching. Nobody pays any attention to pizza delivery guys coming or going.” She opened the door wider and let me in.

“This is so romantic. Not. It’s like something out of a porn movie,” she said.

“When did you ever see a porn movie. I want details.”

“Not important. Come in.”

I hadn’t been in her house since we were about nine and on the same softball team. It looked like they’d got some new furniture since then. She led me into the kitchen where I was able to take off the cap and jacket finally.

“Did you really bring pizza,” she asked? She opened the box and frowned, saying “What good are you? Are you hungry? We can raid the fridge.”

I said I’d eaten shortly before leaving, so not for me. Her hair looked like it was still a little damp from the shower. And then I started thinking about her getting into the shower, which was an entrancing thought, so I jumped a little when she touched my shoulder and said, “Let’s talk a little first.”

She sat down at the kitchen table, and I started to get a horrible feeling that she’d changed her mind and was about to send me on my way. “I’ve been thinking a lot about last Friday and today, too. I really want to do this, but I think I want to take it a little slow.”

“How so?” I asked.

“I felt so good when we were together last week, and I want that again, like right away. But I think I want to wait a little longer before we try actual intercourse, y’know, where you put your thing inside me.

“Mostly because I’m not on birth control yet and I’m terrified of getting pregnant, but also because part of me still thinks that actual -- I’m not really comfortable with this word yet -- but actually fucking for the first time should be with someone you’re really in love with. And you know I like you a lot, and maybe even I’m falling in love with you, but I’m not there yet.”

I was watching this abyss open up under my feet and was helpless to stop it, but I let her go on.

“So no fucking.” She paused, and took a breath while my heart sank. “But everything else is fair game, I think. All this sex stuff has been discussed so much by my friends who really have no practical experience, I no longer know what’s real and what’s just stuff quoted from a porn movie script.”

My heart was back where it was supposed to be all of a sudden, so I agreed. “Same here. Guys are worse. They not only believe all that porn movie stuff as actual fact, but then they go and make up stuff to make themselves sound more experienced.”

She said, “I hope you haven’t fallen into the porn movie trap. You’re not too kinky, are you?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I left all my whips and handcuffs in the garage because this is our first time, and aside from my fetish about licking whipped cream off your body, I’m your everyday Joe.”

“Whipped cream, huh? I guess I could go that far, if it’s non-fat whipped cream. And one more thing. I want us both to be open with each other about this, ‘cause I may want to try some things you’re not comfortable with. If you aren’t, just say so, okay?”

And with that, she leaned in for a kiss. I kissed her hard, while sending some arousal messages, though I wasn’t sure she needed them. She stood up and took my hand, leading me out of the kitchen.

“Let’s find a more comfortable place.” She led me upstairs, with me trailing a step or two behind her watching her marvelous butt under her jeans. She took a left at the top of the stairs and into a bedroom.

“This is mine,” she said. It was nice, kinda girly but no stuffed animals, no frilly curtains, no doll collection on shelves. Other than the color, which was a little too pink for my tastes, it could have been anyone’s.

She turned around and looked at me, and said, “I don’t know where to start.”

I said, “I do. I have dreamed about undressing you and touching you everywhere. I want to kiss and lick you all over.”

“I don’t suppose we can do much of anything else if we’re dressed, anyway, so that sounds like a perfectly reasonable starting point. You want me to undress?”

“Not a chance. This has been my fantasy and now I’m going to live it.”

I reached down and kissed her hard again, using a little tongue, imagining her nipples and thighs tingling and sending that message. I kissed her neck while running my hands down her back onto her butt, which I squeezed just because it felt so good to do it.

Then I stood up and looked her in the eyes as I brought my hands up and started unbuttoning her shirt. So many nighttime half-asleep fantasies about doing just that to some unknown girl, but now I was doing it to Melissa.

She was starting to breathe a little more rapidly and shallowly. I had gotten half the buttons open and her thin bra was showing. I tugged her shirt out of her jeans and undid the rest of the buttons. I had to stop for a second and just look at her.

I reached up and rubbed my thumbs over her nipples, and she half-closed her eyes and caught her breath. I bent down and kissed her nipple through her bra, while I fondled her breasts. She went, “Mmmm,” so I thought I was on the right track.

I pulled off her shirt and dropped it on the bed. She didn’t have big boobs, but they seemed perfect to me. I reached around and fumbled with the clasp on her bra, which would not come undone.

She looked at me and said, “Having trouble? You want the instruction manual?”

“No, I got this. This must be the European version, they’re set up backwards. Gimme a sec.” She smiled.

And there it was, falling loose. I took her bra off slowly, drawing the moment out a little longer, then dropped her bra on the floor.

“Oh, my. You’re perfect.” And she was. “Let me just look at you for a minute, please.” So she stood there, and then began pirouetting slowly so I got the full effect. Truth be told, I think she was enjoying this, perhaps she was a bit of an exhibitionist, watching the effect she had on men, this man in particular.

She did the hand bra bit, supporting them while she presented them to me, and I bent down and licked and sucked on her nipple while I pinched the other one gently, which caused her to sigh and lean into me. I continued to kiss her breasts while running my hands up and down her ribs, while sending a more intense arousal message. Now she was breathing fast.

I unsnapped the front of her jeans, and found the zipper, pulling it slowly down. When I reached the end, my fingers continued downward between her legs, brushing it ever so gently, which brought forth an “Oh, hell, yeah!” I do so like positive feedback.

I seemed to be on a winning streak so I slid my hands up above her jeans and then down inside, sliding over her hips and onto her bare butt. Her skin was so soft it was like rubbing velvet. I squeezed my fingers under her butt cheeks so they were touching the tops of her thighs.

Now she was saying, so softly I could hardly hear her, “Ah. Ah. Ah.” I brought my right hand around her hip to the front and slipped it down her jeans inside her panties. I could just feel the top of her pubic hair. Her body was trembling now, anticipating what was coming next.

Don’t think so, Missy. If you’re going to tease me, then I will tease you until you beg for it. I took my hands out of her jeans and stood back. I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t turned on because my hard-on was straining at my pants.

Instead, I grabbed the waist of her jeans and started tugging them down her legs, leaning forward and letting my tongue slowly trail the descending waist of her jeans. She put her hands on top of my head and pulled me in closer. It seemed she was enjoying the tongue part. Note to self: More tongue.

Her jeans were gathered around her ankles, trapping her. I placed one hand behind her knees and the other on her midriff and pushed. She gasped but there was nowhere to go except back on the bed. I pulled off her sandals and tugged the jeans off.

Now she was naked except for her panties and her socks. Looking up I was staring at her pussy, or where it was hidden under her panties. I had my hands on her knees, and I gently pushed her legs a little further apart, so I could kiss and lick the inside of her thighs. Now she was vocalizing. “Oh, oh, yes, like that, oh good.”

But I stopped just short of the goal. Instead I stood up and took her hands and pulled her up again to a standing position. She was almost hyperventilating and her eyes were electric. I said, “I don’t know which part of you I like best. This is going to take more study.”

“Okay. But not too much.”

I bent my knees as I slipped my fingers into the elastic of her panties and slid them down over her hips and they fell to the floor, leaving me face to face with Melissa’s glorious pussy.

Now, other than careful study of the various academic journals devoted to analysis of the female figure (Playboy, Hustler, Penthouse), I didn’t have much real-world data by which to compare, but this surpassed all expectations. I admit some bias here, but surely scholars must concur that this was beautiful. It wasn’t shaved, but she had trimmed it so the pubic hair was almost geometric, a triangle pointing the way for explorers unsure of the location.

I just stared at it for long enough that she made a noise which I interpreted as “Everything okay down there?” I could only respond, “This is perfect, Melissa. I can’t stop admiring it.”

I could see the little slit between her pussy lips, which seemed to pick up the light from the room. As I looked at it, I visualized it trembling and throbbing. I wasn’t sure how this kind of mental pleasure stimulus worked; was it just thinking about what I wanted to happen, or did I have to go through some more indirect process?

Well, all I could do is try, so I imagined a pleasure center there and it sending waves through her body.

I leaned forward and planted a kiss directly on the point of the triangle, which would have been somewhere above her clit, but we’ll get there. At any rate it was enough because she gasped once. I followed that with several licks of my tongue, again not on her clit, but it seemed not to matter.

She was moaning quietly now, then she pushed me back and said, “If I don’t sit down or lie down right now my legs are going to give way. Wait just a moment, please, just wait.”

She collapsed sitting onto the edge of the bed and breathed heavily for a moment. I sat down beside her. Then she turned and grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me toward her and kissed me hard, her tongue deep in my mouth. “God damn, my whole body is shaking. I can see why people can get addicted to this stuff. Is this a talent we’re born with or do we learn as we go along? You seem to know just what you’re doing even though I don’t think you’ve had a lot of experience.”

“I haven’t,” I assured her.

She said, “I don’t know what I’m doing or what I’m supposed to do. I really like what you’re doing to me, but I don’t know how to start with you.”

“Listen,” I said, “I think it’s nearly impossible to do something the other person wouldn’t like, as long as you like and respect the person you’re making love with. Just go with what feels good to you.

“If you do anything I find a little uncomfortable or painful, I’ll tell you and you can try something else, just as I would expect you to say to me. Okay?”

She nodded, then said, “All right, I want to see your body now. I want to undress you, so you just sit there until I tell you different.” I saluted and she pinched me.