Her parents are communists. I’ve never knowingly met communists and don’t really know what it’s all about. I don’t ask because I feel stupid for now knowing. Her entire family are vegetarians. Her brother Paul, is the all American blonde haired blue eyed rugby, football, baseball jock who is openly bi-sexual with a girlfriend. He could be her twin but their bodies are so different. Both perfect balanced specimens of their sexes. I can’t keep up with any conversation; I don’t know what most of the words they’re using mean. Both she and her brother give me knowing glances. I’m guessing they think my silence is a sign of shyness; the waves of sexual energy they emit make my head swim.
Dinner ends and Paul leaves to spend the night with his girlfriend. Bella and I hop in her car to meet her cousin and go bowling. The night air is warm. We roll the windows down and sit in nervous silence for the ride. I watch the breeze play with the hem of her skirt out the corner of my eye. Her palm keeps finding its way to the seat beside her. She touches the cloth then puts her hand back on the wheel. I know what she’s thinking. There is more heat between us than in the summer night air. She pulls to the curb, puts the car in park and exhales.
She says, “you know we cant do this.”
“Do what exactly?”
“This, nothing…..let’s go.”
With this she gets out and closes the car door. I follow up the hill behind her. Her cousin is a nerdy girl like Bella but she’s into computers where Bella loves language. After about thirty minutes of Bella casually bumping into me I have to walk outside and smoke. Get your shit together girl. I’m practically vibrating from my desire for her. All of our previous sex keeps replaying in my head. One big orgasmic loop plays over and over. Who ever says women don’t think of sex as much as men is not a lesbian. Finally the group comes out and we head to the bowling alley. I sit in the back with Bella. She rests her hand on the seat between us. I put mine beside hers. As the car turns into the parking lot my weight shifts and her fingers find mine. She squeezes my fingers and strokes my palm. I jerk my hand away as I get out of the car. Bowling is just a game of balanced controlled flirting to pass the time. I don’t bowl. I don’t know how. I understand the concept. Roll the ball, knock down the pins. I don’t fucking care. I watch her fingers, the muscles in her forearms, her thighs and calves flex. She holds my hand. Her cousin stares at our fingers intertwined and smiles. She follows me into the bathroom and tells me how pretty her boyfriend’s eyes are. Apparently they’re very blue. Mine are brown, like my skin and my name. I listen. I watch and breathe. I measure the time by counting my beers. Finally we finish and leave.
This time we don’t hang out at her cousin’s house. We get in her car and drive across Atlanta in a hurry. Once in her room, I strip down to my boxers and tee-shirt then practically jump into her bed. Bella takes her time. She pulls the cotton tank top over her head. Then walks to her dresser and finds a new one. She slowly unwraps her grass green skirt. The powder blue panties cling and stretch to hold their place while she walks to the bathroom. The ceiling is covered in that spray on popcorn shit. It’s very white. I stare at it and grab handfuls of the sheet by my side. I twiddle my toes and try to think of my Granny, puppies, basketball, swimming; oh god she’s in the shower. I wonder what kind of shower head she has. Fuck! Clean thoughts! Leaves, nope her skirt. Shit!
She walks back in with a towel around her. I turn away from her and face the wall.
I say, “Should I sleep on the floor?”
“No silly, we’re both adults and if we can’t sleep in the same bed you can go to my brothers room.”
“Well, I can go now if you want because it’s going to be really hard to not cuddle with you at least.”
“I don’t think cuddling is the problem. Just don’t spoon me, okay?”
“Okay,” maybe that’s something reserved for her boyfriend? She presses her body against mine. Her warm breath is on my neck. My heart races. The heat from her body makes my eyes cross. Air is too thick with my thoughts. Blood pounds in my ears. After about five minutes she’s asleep. I am so uncomfortable in my skin. I try and reposition my body and she rolls over. I want to kill my pillow and hump the bed. As I lay twitching for what feels like hours, I finally realize that I could just masturbate. If I just got off, I could sleep. So I do, and it’s fast. My whole body relaxes into the idea of us being friends alone. I feel closer to her already. I roll over and squeeze up behind her to cup her body with my own. I slide my arm under her pillow and hug her close. Suddenly she’s facing me. Her tongue is in my mouth. Her hands grab the back of my neck and pull me into her kiss and her on top of me. Her hips pry my thighs wide and push her fingers in me. Her body rolls. Her back arches. I grab for her hips. She whispers, “I told you not to spoon me.” I gasp and shake. Words can’t come. Her flat belly sticks to mine with sweat. I push her out of me. I can’t take it. “God please fucking stop, you’re killing me!” She giggles a little as she relaxes on top of me and whispers “I’m not even trying,” in French. I grab her and roll over with her back to me. She has a boyfriend. He’s not gonna like me.
“Put just one finger inside me,” I do what she tells me. I’m heartbeats, breath and sweat. One arm under her head, fingers in her mouth. Her hips rock slowly. She is control. I grab her throat.
I wake to her getting out of bed. She walks to the bathroom naked. The popcorn on the ceiling looks the same. I make coffee in the kitchen and join her in the garden out back. Tall weeds and grass surround a little circle cut out. There’s a bench built into the rock wall that outlines the bare area. My coffee is black today. My normal sweet and creamy is not needed. She lays her head in my lap and reads Milan Kundera sex scences to me while we sit in the sun and sweat all afternoon.
