I’m feeling lonely and confused. I call her and ask if I can come over. Her only response is “yes”. I park in the drive and sit there a minute. I’m too nervous to get out of the car. I don’t know why. She is my best friend, and I have been in this house more times than I care to count. But nervous…. Why? I get out of the car, walk to the front door, it’s unlocked like it always is when she is expecting me. Walking in and closing the door gently behind me I can tell she’s upstairs, I hear the television. I walk toward the stairs. Stairs I’ve walked up many times before but now they seem different. They belong to someone new. Someone who is up there, watching a movie, unaware that I am standing here just staring at the stairs. As if the first step I take will cause me to fall deep into the unknown. My fear and discomfort is completely ridiculous. She is my best friend. I start the climb. 1, 2, 3, 4 and up I go. 14 steps, that’s how many there are between me and my best friend. She hears me coming on the 7th step, it squeaks. I hear her say that I scared the shit out of her. I giggle a bit but don’t respond. I continue my climb. When I reach the top it is an open room, a den. She is lying on the couch. So comfortable. I am envious. If only I could just rest a while. I make my way to the comfy armchair a safe distance away from my best friend. I ask what she is watching, she says Shutter Island. I have been waiting to see this movie for some time now, but I can’t seem to concentrate on it right now. What is wrong with me? I sit there and stare at the screen. It’s dark in the den but I can see her from the corner of my eye. I don’t want her to know that I am looking at her so I don’t turn my head. The glow from the television lights up her facial features. Features that I knew were always beautiful but not until that very moment did I find HER beautiful. I continue to stare at the television, completely lost in thought and I have no clue what this movie is about. I can’t concentrate. I don’t even know what I am really thinking about. All I do know is that this comfy armchair is holding me prisoner. I am miles away from where I want to be. Miles from where I need to be. The words came out of my mouth before I knew I was even speaking. “Can I lay with you?” It takes her a moment to register what I have just said. She gives me another “yes” and scoots back into the couch, making room for me. I realize finally what I have done and it’s too late to take it back now. I don’t even know how I got there, just that I somehow floated over to that couch and into her arms. We spoon. I lay there, the most comfortable that I have been in I don’t know how long. Reality, I have never been this comfortable in my life. It frightens me. She is my best friend. I say the only thing that comes to mind. “But no messing around ok?” She says “ok”. And she means it. She is my best friend. And she holds me. Somehow she knows something is wrong with me and that I need her right then, at that very moment. I needed to vent, I needed someone to listen to me. I needed someone to just let me be silent. I needed her. I needed my best friend. And in that moment she ceased to be just my best friend. She became my twin. Everything I ever wanted, she had, everything I ever needed, she gave. No messing around. What was I thinking? And in that moment everything stopped, the world disappeared. Leonardo DiCaprio was in his own world on Shutter Island and she and I were in ours. I grabbed her hand and placed it on my breast, she flinched just a bit. I’m sure I startled her. And I can’t blame her for being jumpy. She was my best friend and I had just crossed some imaginary line that we never spoke of. She says to me, “Don’t start something you won’t finish”. My only response is that what I am starting doesn’t have an ending. She hesitates for only a moment. It was as if she had been waiting for this too. She asks me if I’m ok. I say yes. I can feel the heat from her breath on my neck. Her lips slowly trace my neck and I move her fingers down the top of my dress. I need to feel her skin on my skin. I place her fingers directly on my nipple and guide her to play with it. Her lips are now on my ear and I can hear her breathing. I reach up and grab her hair, pulling her closer to me, welcoming her. My ear is now in her mouth and I can feel her soft, slippery tongue. Her breathing quickens, as does mine. I remove my hand from her soft hair; she no longer needs my guidance there. Instead I grab her hand, the one that was ever so gently caressing my breast and I move it to my thigh. With her hand underneath mine I slowly lift my dress. Her soft fingers running up my leg. She continues kissing my neck. I beg for her to touch me. She asks if I am sure. I do not answer her, although I know that I have never been more certain about anything than I am about this at this precise moment. Her fingers find my womanhood with an ease so natural you would think she had been here before (and she has, but only in my dreams). She gently caresses my womanhood. I moan. I shift my body so that we are no longer spooning but I am on my back and she is still on her side, facing me now. The glow from the screen illuminates her beauty. Her eyes are questioning. She is confused, of this I am sure. She is my best friend. I reach into her sweatpants and find her aroused. She is damp and twitches instantly at my touch. A smile appears on her beautiful lips. Those lips. I long to kiss those lips. Her soft tongue that was just nibbling on my ear is now deep in my mouth. Our tongues are making love at the rhythm of our fingers. Our fingers that are sharing the gift of passion, the fast, slow dance of love. Without even knowing how, soon we are bare bodied and I am on top of her. Her leg, my leg, her leg, my leg. We are intertwined like threads from the same rope. I grind on her and make her scream. Her body is begging for more. Her eyes are pleading, thankful, confused, and hungry. I give her more. More of me. All of me. She is my best friend. I lower my body slowly down the length of this beautiful creature. My mouth taking inventory of every pore, every mole, every scar, every tattoo. Her nipples are hard but their skin is so soft against my lips. Her small perky breasts fill my mouth with ease and I love it. I love how they look, I love how they feel, and I love how I am making her feel. I continue my journey down this ivory temple. The goose bumps on her flesh let me know she likes this path I am taking. Without hesitation I take her in. Her sweetness is all the nourishment I need. The sounds she is making are all the music I need. The movements of her body are the only dance I need. Release. Sweet release. I look up and she is there. Staring at me. She is there. She is my best friend. I come to her and she is there. I make my way back up her ivory temple, stopping only for a moment to kiss her navel and further up I kiss her right breast and then her left. When I am finally face to face with her again, we kiss. And it is the most powerful kiss in the history of all kisses. No one in the world has ever experienced a kiss quite like this. She pulls away and says “your turn”. And just like that I am gone. In the next few minutes, she takes me places I have never been before but only dreamed of. I am in the clouds, in space, at the beach. But my favorite is Yankee Stadium. Yes, this girl has given me such a powerful orgasm that I am in the middle of the Yankee freaking stadium. I don’t know how and I don’t know why but it’s true. She has made all of my dreams come true with just a few flicks of her tongue. She is my best friend. When I come back from this enchanted world she has taken me to, I pull her up to me. Again we are face to face. Her hot, sweaty body is on top of mine. Our hearts are racing, our heads are throbbing, and our breath is coming in quick shallow spurts. She is my best friend. She looks at me and smiles. Then she asks, “What exactly is your definition of ‘messing around’?” I have to laugh. We are spooning again but this time I am holding her. And I’m not letting go.
© Copyright 2016 paloma0703. All rights reserved.
Poem / Gay and Lesbian
Short Story / Gay and Lesbian
Poem / Memoir
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