The Memory

The Memory

She remembered that one evening they were together. Actually it started a week beforehand. They spent the evening together talking as was the norm. She guessed her growing feelings were becoming apparent to him despite the fact that she had yet to recognize them herself. He talked of being just friends. Just friends, she thought. She couldn’t actually pinpoint the reason why that statement brought pain.
Then the confusion started. He walked up and kissed her, just a brief touching of the lips. The kiss messed her up. She went home and thought of that kiss for the next week. Nothing seemed to change on the outside in their relationship. They continued to visit nightly and spent the evenings watching television and talking. The kiss wasn’t repeated.
Then one evening, a week after the kiss, he pulled her down beside him. “Scratch my back, please.”
She laughed and started scratching his back. He had mentioned before that his back often itched. Then she started massaging. The massage began to affect her. The memory of the kiss loomed in the forefront of her mind.
“Your turn,” he said moving aside. “Lie down.”
Lying down, she bit her lip, wondering what was coming next. The next thing she felt was his hands. He started on her feet. He massaged gently but firmly. She could feel the tension ebb away from her body. She had been on her feet all day at work. It was heavenly to feel the relaxation begin.
He worked his way up her legs. The massage took on the overtones of intimacy. The legs of her shorts were pushed all the way up. The waistband was pushed all the way down. Her pulse was tripping quicker by the minute.
He began to work on her arms and hands. She felt like she was dissolving. A moan escaped from her lips. She could not believe she was lying there with his hands on her. Where was the “just friends” now? She didn’t care. She was enjoying the moment.
“This has to go,” he stated a second before she felt her bra strap give way. He began to stroke her back. The strokes grew deeper and more fluid.
“Oh, this is heaven.” The words escaped before she was aware of them.
Then his hands moved up to her head. He slipped her headband off.
“You have the most beautiful hair,” he murmured.
“Umm, thanks. You have wonderful hands.”
He laughed. He gently began to massage and tug at her hair releasing all the tension from her scalp. He returned to work on her back. The stroking became slower, more sensual.
He turned her over.
“May I kiss you?” he asked in a whisper.
“Yes…please.”
Oh the pleasure. At first, he just nipped at her lips. Then he slid his mouth back and forth. Then the real kiss began.
She was a washed in pleasure as he sucked on her bottom lip and slid his tongue within. Their tongues battled gently together, in and out, a duel of mutual pleasure.
His hand shifted from her neck to her shoulder. His mouth followed pursuit. Tension of a new kind began to build within her.
“May I?” he asked with his hand poised above her breast.
“Oh, yes.” She sighed as he touched her. The blood began to flow hotter between the two of them. The kisses became deeper and more thorough. Her hands came up and began to run over his chest.
Then suddenly he wasn’t there. He stood up. Reaching out his hand, he pulled her to her feet and into his arms. Standing there together, they hugged and rocked gently. He took her by the hand and pulled her after him.
At the bedroom door, he turned to her. “I want you.”
“I want you, too.”
They continued into the room. He turned her facing him and pulled off her top and bra.
Dropping the top, he ran his hands over her breasts. “You are beautiful,” he murmured. He pulled her to him for a long kiss.
The thought of what this action would mean to their relationship flits through her mind. The phrase “just friends” echoed for a millisecond. Then he kissed her again. He knelt to pull her shorts off. She put her hands on his shoulders as she stepped out of them. He stood there admiring her.
“Your turn,” she said as she reached for his shorts.
Soon they were standing there in their underwear. She stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. They kiss.
He walked her backwards towards the bed.
“Are you sure?” He stopped for a second.
“I’m sure,” she said.
Slowly he lowered her to the sheets. The kissing began again hotter than before. Hands began skimming glistening skin. The remaining clothes were swept off as if they didn’t exist.
He began raining kisses over her face, his hands tangling in her hair. She found herself sinking into the abyss of desire. His kisses continued down her shoulders and between her breasts. He circled her nipples without actually touching them.
“Please,” she said. “Kiss me.”
He chuckled. “You like that, huh?”
He gave a gentle kiss to her breasts and trailed kisses down her stomach. He licked her navel and she laughed.
“I’m ticklish.”
“Oh, really?” He reached up and gave her a tiny tickle under her arms. But the laughter stopped as they looked into each other’s eyes. They came together in a hug and deep kiss.
He ran his hands over her body, sweeping her from shoulder to foot. On the way up, he stopped to touch the tangle of dark curls between her legs. Her legs parted further.
“Now,” she said.
Without further delay, he slipped between her legs and entered her.
Pleasure exploded immediately. She muffled her cry on his shoulder. He began to move at a faster rate. She wrapped her legs around him. Soon he stiffened and shuddered.
They laid there joined together for a while. Their pulses gradually returned to normal. Gentle kisses were exchanged. After a few more minutes he moved to lie at her side. He pulled her into his arms and gave her another kiss. He snuggled his face into her hair and drifted to sleep.
How like a man, she thought. She gave him a soft kiss. Her thoughts began to spin about how this was going to affect their relationship. Tonight was too good for it not to change. We will see.
She woke the next morning to find him gone. That hurt. She got up to begin her day. She waited all day to hear from him. There was no phone call, no nightly visit. She began to get mad.
The workweek came. She kept busy each day. She filled her evenings visiting friends and going to the movies. She refused to sit at home and wait for him to come over.
Two weeks passed. She was about to leave for a weekend away, still trying to avoid thinking about him, when the doorbell rang. He was there, looking a bit ragged. She didn’t even open the door completely.
“I’m sorry. Can I come in? We need to talk.”
“I don’t know if I want to talk. You took off on me. You didn’t call. Why should I listen to you now?”
“Please… I am sorry. Give me a chance.” There was a soft undertone to his voice that touched her heart. She stepped back to let him in.
He stepped in and stopped to give her a kiss. She turned her head.
“Okay, talk. I thought we were friends. Friends don’t do what you did to me.” She was still hurting. She wanted to hurt him too.
He sat down on the couch while she sat on the chair.
“I got scared. That is all there was to it. When I woke up that night and realized what we had done, I had to leave. I know that isn’t an excuse. There is no excuse. That night was good, too good. I hadn’t planned on making love to you. I still had it in my head to be just friends. During these last two weeks I have been thinking constantly about you and that night, about my feelings for you.” He stopped for a minute.
“Go on.” She waited. There was a kernel of hope that was starting to blossom.
“I am not sure what is going to happen but I want to give things a try. Will you forgive me? Will you give us a chance?”
The hope flared bright and new. She stood up and opened her arms. They met in the center and the new memories began.