[Askoga]: 89.Short Stories.Mature.A Challenge

I sit with her on her back steps, rubbing her thigh with my hand. She's laying against my shoulder, and telling me all about her day, her frustrations, and her joys. I listen, because I know that soon she will run out of things to say, and then I'll be allowed to touch her, feel her soft skin. And she is beautiful. How could a man not want her? Not need her, as I do? But yet still, she holds back, afraid, timid. Once, she was so timid that I could not even touch her, for fear she would shrink away. I think back to our first kiss, and how her pretty lips touched mine, and then fled, and how a soft rose colored her cheeks. I don't understand her reluctance, nor her timidity, but I must accept that it is a part of her.

And yet, I know that the touching and kissing are something I desperately need from her. But yet I have waited, and now I begin to see the fruit of my waiting. She opens up more every time we are together, sharing herself with me and allowing me to pull her close. And I think back to the others I have held in my arms; none of those lasted as long as this, though. I have to wonder if maybe she is special somehow. But no, I answer my own question even before I ask it. She's a challenge, and I will meet it, and then I will go my own way again.

“Conrad?” Her soft, quizzical voice breaks into my thoughts, “Conrad? What were you thinking about?”

Oops! She noticed that I wasn't really listening. “Nothing,” I lie easily, leaning forward to plant a soft kiss on her pretty lips. She allows the brief peck, but then pulls back frowning at me. She always frowns like this when I'm not listening to her rambling on, and on, and on. But I say nothing more, just watching her.

“It's not nothing! If you don't want to tell me, just say so.” She's always like this, so particular about the words I use. I just shrug and say, “Well, then it's something.” If I tell her what I want, she'll leave. But eventually, I know she'll give in just the same.

She frowns, but only for a second before she laughs. That's one thing I really like about her. She always laughs, and she's so naïve and trusting. And so very, very beautiful. I reach up and tickle her, taking her mind off my thoughts, and she laughs, wiggling, struggling half-heartedly against my attack. It's so easy to change the direction of her thoughts. I smile, even as I pull her closer to me and kiss the base of her neck, easing off the tickling. I hold her there comfortably, half in my lap, and she's silent.

I know she's thinking about something, but this time I don't ask. I don't have to, because she's rubbing the back of my hand with her thumb. I know what's coming, and I kiss her neck again, licking it. She almost purrs as she says, “I love you, Conrad.”

“I love you too,” I reply, almost tasting the words as they leave my tongue, so hated are they. But it is worth it, because without the “I love you”s, she would not stay with me, I know. She needs love, though I cannot understand that need.

I bend my neck forward again, to kiss her cheek—baby steps, as always—but she surprises me by turning her head to kiss my own lips. And, strangely, I can feel a passion in her kiss. Excited, I turn her in my lap, so that she is half-facing me, and I pull her closer, dipping my tongue delicately into her mouth. Even still, she seems unsure what to do, but I coax her through, and soon enough, she stops thinking about the kiss so much, relaxing.

Then, I remember little clearly, until I hear those dreaded words, “Conrad...Please. Please don't...” She sounds reluctant to say them, but not nearly as reluctant as I, as I realize that she is now only half-dressed. She brushes her fingers through my hair, and I marvel again at her untainted innocence. Sighing, I nod, and pull away. The car pulling in the drive only moments later is my cue to leave, while she buttons the last button on her blouse.

Walking away, I have to wonder at my own sanity, hooking up with a girl whose mother keeps her on a tight leash, and who has never even really kissed a man before. But I know, too, that I'll go back again to see her, and face that challenge again. And I will keep coming back until she welcomes me in, and maybe even a little while after that.