More Than Friends Ch. 01

Heather was sitting on my roommate's bed and regarding me with implacable eyes. "What's on your mind," I asked.

She looked at me for a moment, silent. Then, evidently she came to some mental decision, and spoke the results aloud: "You," she said. "I've just been thinking about how different you are."

I looked at her. Different is a word fraught with meaning to me. I feel alone at all times because I am different, because I have been made to feel like an outsider by too many people, too many times, and now it’s hard-wired into my system. I could probably stand in a room full of clones of myself and still feel like an outsider. "What do you mean by that," I said aloud.

"I just mean... How much you've changed," Heather said. "You know how it is: you know someone for such a long time that sometimes you don't catch on to their personal evolution until after it’s happened. Well, it's been like that for me. I'm so used to thinking of you as, you know, that I've totally missed that you changed. ...Am I making sense here, do you get it?"

I nodded. "Adam and I have the same problem. Well, rather, I have it with him. He seems to be on the ball at all times."

She gave me a distant smile. "Yeah, he does, doesn't he," she said. "Well, I'm up to date now, and you're very different from what I used to remember. But..." She looked at me again, her eyes focusing on me. "There's one thing I hope hasn't changed.

"Colin, you... You used to have a crush on me, didn't you?"

I blinked at her. For a second I wondered what to do. Then common sense kicked in. Now's your chance, GO for it!

"Used to?" I said. "How could you forget? It was so obvious that everyone knew. Even, like, my cousins, who had never met you before--"

Suddenly Heather was off the bed and hurtling into my arms, where she clung and buried her face in my chest. "I knew it! I knew it," she crowed, her voice muffled by my shirt. A sudden thought seemed to strike her. "You bastard!" She thumped on my ribs with a fist. "Why didn't you say anything? All through high school I thought you had forgotten about me! I was so--" A few more thumps. "Why didn't you say anything? Say something!"

"Ow," I said.

"Not that!" She pulled her head back and stared up at me with the fury of a brewing storm. "Why didn't you say something about liking me? All through high school I felt like I had been hung out to dry because you didn't notice me!"

"Well, how do you think I felt," I retorted. "You and Adam were banding together in everything, I half thought you two would go out--"

"Well, we know that's not true," Heather said. (Adam is gay.)

"--and then you started taking up with all those crazy football jocks--God, remember Trevor?" That particular specimen had gone into drug abuse rehab before the end of his first year of high school. "I certainly wasn't their type. What chance did I have? And then you yourself, and your makeup and your tiny clothes and all. I mean, I barely had any idea what to do with Pamela Lee Gifford or whoever, much less you."

"Uh, it's Kathy Lee Gifford," Heather said, a faint smile dusting her lips. "And Pamela Anderson Lee."

"Oh, shut up," I said, grinning. I had mixed them up on purpose, to get a laugh out of her, and it had worked. And then, because I could, I bent down and kissed her on the lips. Just a short, quick peck, and that was all.

But she followed me back, and I had barely finished moving when her lips caught up with me again. We kissed, our mouths coming open, tasting each other's breath. I pulled my arm around her shoulders, stroking her back, feeling the glistening texture of her fine hair.

"Well," she said when we broke for air, "you seem to know what to do with me now."

I laughed. "Yeah, but then I'd better close the room door, or else people will notice that we're, uh, busy."

She let me stand up and I crossed to the door and closed it. It gave me a chance to compose my thoughts. We finally had this chance--I didn't want to ruin it.

"Heather," I said.

She was standing in the middle of the room, and when I spoke, she turned to me and gave me a smile that shone like daylight and made my throat tighten up. All the words left my mind, and instead of saying anything, I found myself walking over and putting my arms around her. She held me just as tightly, her head resting on my shoulder.

"Do you have any idea how long I've wanted this to happen," I asked.

"Maybe as long as I have," she said.

"Did you know: back in grade school, I used to figure we'd get married," I said.

"...Okay, maybe longer than I have," she said. She lifted her head to look at me, her voice serious. "It was more like when I came back for high school. For most of junior high I didn't think of you at all; I had too much other things to think about. But when I came back... It really struck me how much I had been looking forward to seeing you again. And that maybe I should ask you out. But when we first met, it seemed so..."

I nodded. "Yeah. You had changed so much, I wasn't sure if you even remembered me."

She laughed. "And you: you hadn't changed a bit. Still the same old Colin."

"That's funny," I said. "They tell me I've changed a lot."

"Well, maybe on the surface," she said, "but not so far deep down there is the Colin I always knew."

"And I'm glad the Heather I knew has returned," I said.

She grimaced a little. "Yeah. I wouldn't admit this to anyone else, but I'm kind of glad I stopped caring about Kathy Anderson Gifford or whatever. When I was part of that, it was like-- Dependent on who I knew. If something was popular, I had to be on top of it, and if I was, I was popular. And it was pretty cool, but sometimes I just wanted to say, 'Hey, what about me?'"

"Well, that's what Adam and I are for," I said.

"Yeah," she said, and kissed me again. It went on for a long time. We were in no rush. We had waited to reach this place together, and now we wanted to savor it.

"Do you remember sixth grade," I asked.

"Yeah, what about it," she said.

"What did we learn about in Health class?" I asked.

"Uh..." She thought back. "Let me see, that was..." Her eyes widened. "Oh, my God, I remember that! That was when they taught us about sex!"

I laughed. "Did you ever get, you know, The Talk from your parents? Err, sorry, parent?"

She giggled. "No, not really, we didn't need it. Too much TV. But all they showed was naked people putting their hips together. I didn't really understand what was going on until those classes in sixth grade. You know, the--" She giggled again. "--the mechanics."

"Insert Peg A into Slot B," I offered.

She laughed. "Yeah. I didn't know about the nitty-gritty details and stuff until that class in sixth grade."

"I didn't get The Talk either," I said. "My parents let Mrs. Chandler do that." Mrs. Chandler was our 6th-grade teacher. I remember those classes--they split the sixth grade into male and female rotations, there were only about eight students total, and played all these weird videos about The Miracle Of Life (TM) and all that. I remember everyone burst out laughing when they had a cartoon graphic of an evolving hard-on. And these were the guys.

"Did you have any idea," Heather asked, a delighted smile on her face. "You know, that people did stuff like that?"

I shrugged. "Well, I had already discovered the, ahem, the alternate uses for my exterior plumbing, but obviously the pipes weren't carrying anything at that point, if you know what I mean." I can actually remember the first time I ever ejaculated during masturbation. I don't know how many other people can claim that. "By the time that happened, I already knew what was going on."

She nodded.

"You know," I said, almost not thinking about what was coming out of my mouth, "a couple times during sixth grade, I kind of wanted to try that with you."

Heather pulled back her head and stared at me blankly.

As for me, I went back over what I had just said. Had I actually said that? Yeah, I had said that. Wow. The things you say when you're not paying attention.

Seeing the complete astonishment on her face, I said, "Well, I mean. You asked me to help you find out what kissing was. It'd be kind of similar, you know, just... 'What's this?'"

A bit of understanding crept across her face, and she nodded, though her mouth still hung open.

I blinked. "Why, what did you think I meant?"

She closed her mouth, shook her head out as though clearing her thoughts. "Well, I. I kind of thought you were, you know, lusting after me or something. And I was like, Wait, he was eleven, is that normal?"

I gave her a wry smile. "Well, I did lust after you for a while, back when we first met. But gradually it died out. Or maybe it became part of my friendship for you. I wasn't kidding when I said you were the prettiest girl in that classroom, and you haven't exactly lost any of your looks since then. But... Well, you know. We were first graders. It's hard to lust after somebody when there aren't any... Outlets, if you will, for that feeling. I knew you were really beautiful and that I wanted to be as close to you as possible, but, like, if you had asked me to tell you how I felt back then, I wouldn't have had the words. Or the expressions, either. It took until you moved away for me to realize I wanted to kiss you again."

She smiled and sung out a line from an old song: "Don't it always seem to go / That you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone?"

"Hey, that was nice," I said, smiling.

"What?" she asked.

"I've never heard you sing before."

"Yes you have."

"Well, not loudly. Not like that. You were always quiet, and, like, embarrassed. I don't see why, you've got a nice voice."

"Well," she said, looking away and fidgeting. "You and Adam, you know. You guys sung a lot, and you sounded great. Especially you, making up your own harmonies and all. And now you and Adam have that whole group of friends from your choir around you, and I know you guys can sing well--"

"No, not all of them," I said. "Most of them, yeah. But definitely not Sherynn, and I'm not sure about Jane either."

"Well," Heather said. "Whatever."

I smiled at her and kissed her on the forehead. She's just enough shorter than me to make it possible.

We stood in each other's arms for a short time, standing close to each other, feeling each other's breath, each other's heartbeat. Her breasts were firm against my chest--I still maintain she has perfectly good breasts. I was developing an erection, which tends to happen when I'm hugging someone I'm attracted to. I don't hug people very often. Unless I'm going out with them, at which point it's not as much of a social faux pas to have a hard-on. Once Heather gave this contented little sigh and snuggled closer, and I thought I was just going to melt. In her arms was now officially my favorite place to be. Why had I ever left it?

Finally she said, "Well, you've got me. I'm a willing prisoner of Colin Watson." I could hear the smile in her voice; I felt her breath tickling my neck. "What were you planning to do with me?"

"I dunno," I said, contented. "What did you have in mind?"

She was silent for a moment. "Well," she said, "you were saying you wanted to try that sex thing with me..."

Oh, yeah, that was why I had stepped away. "Uh, Heather," I said.

She retreated from my embrace, looked up at me, blinked. This clearly was not the answer she was expecting. I don't blame her. I mean, come on. Heather Norwellyn is widely regarded as an eminently attractive and desirable woman. What sort of person turns her down? I must be insane.

But I had my reasons. "Heather, we have just this one chance to get things right. Not just sex, but, like, you know, us."

"Is there an us?" she asked, mildly surprised.

"Well, I'd like there to be," I said, and she nodded. "More accurately, I'd like there to be an us even if we have sex tonight. I know it can screw things up--"

"How would you know, Mr. Virgin," she asked, flashing me a delightedly malicious grin.

I rolled my eyes. "I may be a virgin, but I've seen what happened to my friends who stopped being so. And I don't want that to happen to us."

She nodded, her face serious. We had both seen a number of relationships fall apart after its members realized that the only connections being made were between cock and pussy. Heather had been in one of those. For that matter, so had I, but mine had mouths involved, which is why I'm still technically a virgin.

"Well, good," she said, "I thought for a second you were going to say you didn't want to have sex with me."

I snorted. "Are you kidding? I'm a nineteen-year-old virgin, give me some credit here. Seriously, though. I would like to have sex with you, or make love with you, or whatever you want to call it. I was always..." God, how embarrassing to say this. "I was always so jealous when you took someone to bed, knowing that... He was getting something I wanted, and could probably never have. But now that I do have you... I don't want to mess things up."

"Well, you do have me," Heather said softly, looking up into my eyes. "And we'll make sure we don't mess up. And that you get some."

I smiled. "That sounds like a good deal to me."

We smiled at each other for a moment. I looked over her face--those blue eyes now bright with joy, her shining smile, her hair tumbling over her shoulders, my favorite color and length... How the hell did I get so lucky?

"Well," she said, "want to get started?"

I laughed. "It isn't like a business arrangement or anything."

"Well, how would you know, Mr. Virgin," she said, sticking out her tongue.

"Oh, should I get out my wallet then?" I asked, laughing.

"You better not, you'd make me feel like a whore," she said, her eyes dancing. "Unless you've got a condom in there or something."

I shook my head. "Actually, I haven't got anything in the way of protection. Maybe we should go get some."

"I thought that was what we were talking about," she said, giggling, and I suddenly realized my double entendre.

"You know what I meant," I said, fighting back giggles. We must've been drunk, we were smiling so much. It hadn’t even been that funny.

"Well, I am on The Pill," Heather told me, "so we can just go for it, if you want."

I thought about it for a second. "Let's go to the store and get some condoms later."

"And what shall we do now," she asked me.

"Put that Pill of yours to the test, potentially," I said, waggling my eyebrows.

"Oh-hhhh," she said with a wicked grin. "Taking some risks, I see, Mr. Watson."

"Yeah, yeah, save the morality for later, you're not my mother," I retorted, grinning.

"Well, I sure hope not!" Heather exclaimed, and we dissolved into random giggles.

Finally we got ourselves together and realized we were still standing in the middle of the room. I held her tenderly. "I--" I love you, Heather. No, maybe not yet. She may not take me seriously if I say that. "I'm really glad you're here."

She pecked me on the cheek. "I'm glad to be here."

She took my hand and led me to the bed, and began taking off her clothes. "Well, come on, then," she said, smiling. I did as she suggested, after taking the precaution of drawing the blinds mostly closed. We were on the third floor, and I had already checked the angles before--no one should be able to see anything. Regardless, though. Then I got my pants and underwear off. It felt strangely formal. When I was done, I turned to her.

I had seen Heather in a bathing suit before, but nothing prepared me for this. She stood before me without a stitch on her--she had even discarded her hair band. She had pale skin and enough muscles to give her body some definition. Her breasts were smoothly rounded and did not sag much; they reminded me of Heather herself--beautiful but not showy, with an elegant dignity to them. She had small pink areolas and little eraser-nubbin nipples. Her hips flared out from a slim waist, leading to long, smooth legs--and, of course, a juncture between them, a juncture I had often dreamed about. Her pubic hair was a neatly-trimmed triangle of deep, rich gold, darker than the hair on her head.

I must have gaped for a while, because eventually Heather smiled and said, "You like what you see, I suppose."

I tried to answer her and made a sort of gagging noise instead. I had to work moisture into my mouth. "Absolutely. I knew you were beautiful with clothes on, but, like... Wow."

She giggled. "Well, you're not so bad yourself." She ran her hands over my arms and down my chest. "Looks like you've been working out a bit."

I laughed nervously. Actually, I hadn't, but hey, who was I to argue?

She ran her fingertips across my chest and over my nipples. I jumped a little. "Heehee. Tickles."

"What," she said, "no one's ever touched your nipples before?"

"Well, no," I said. "We mostly ended up paying attention to the woman's nipples."

Heather rolled her eyes. "Well, I don't see why there should be any difference. Nipples are nipples, no matter which gender they're fastened to."

"Yeah, but I just have these, you know, hard planes. You have breasts."

She rolled her eyes again. "You know, Colin, these things are not the greatest things to have."

"Yeah, I know, Lindsay complains about them too," I said. Lindsey is Adam's best friend. "But..." I reached out and covered her left breast with my hand; her nipple peaked against my palm. "I think they're pretty cool."

She looked into my eyes. "Well, then, who am I to complain?"

I bent down and took her nipple in my mouth, keeping my teeth out of the picture. With my hands I continued to massage her breasts, using only my fingertips to stroke across their surface, underneath them, at the tender places where they joined her flanks. Her breathing grew heavy and she pressed up to meet me.

I let go of her nipple and began to kiss in rings around the surface of her breast. I paid special attention to the areole, which I could feel through its different texture. Then I kissed my way to her flank near her underarm, hoping I wasn't going to run into some sort of solid deodorant, and made tickling kisses down around the rim of her breast. The Internet says that this is a very sensitive place that is normally ignored. I don't know if that's true, but it seemed to be working. Stooped over but not caring, I worked my way across her chest to the other breast, listening to her heady breathing, feeling her hands ruffle through my hair, smelling a vague musky aroma that must clearly be her sex, smelling the clean warm scent of her body itself. Finally I reached the other nipple and felt it harden between my lips, heard her moan softly.

"Colin," Heather said. "I'm going to lie down now. This is a little awkward. Think you can follow me?"

"I'm right behind you," I said, my mouth full.

It was an amusing maneuver: Heather trying to move slowly to lie down on the bed with me half overbalanced, teetering on one foot, following her, trying not to let go of this wonderful thing I had just discovered on her chest. It probably would have been easier to just stop and regroup on the bed, but hey, what can I say--we were so obsessed with each other we were basically drunk.

"Wow," she said, once we had finally gotten ourselves arranged. "I never thought I'd be doing ballet."

"I don't think--" I stopped to give her other nipple a gentle pinch and she hissed with indrawn breath. "--I don't think ballet dancers do the kind of activities we're considering."