I thought I was going to throw up. There she was, just standing there, carelessly swiping her corn silk hair out of her eyes and chatting with Margo Strand. God she was still beautiful, even more so than back then, the laugh lines creeping in next to her eyes suggested that she still loved being outdoors. Her sure stance made me think she probably still rode horses. Still 100% out of my league. My hands were clammy just looking at her. She must have sensed that I was looking because she glanced in my direction and tossed me a nonchalant smile, going quickly back to her conversation. Still so comfortable with whom she was. It had been twenty years and Nancy Harding still had that effect on me, the one that left me reeling with unfulfilled desire and a certain level of horniness. She was my crush in high school.
We sat in alphabetical order in all of our classes in our large Catholic girls' school and I was always three seats behind and one row over from Nancy. Just the right position for me to see her profile, and her shapely, creamy-skinned left leg that she always stuck out into the aisle (she was tall and the desks were for petite girls.) Every now and then she would turn to look at her best friend Amy behind her and then I could get a full eyeful of that stunning doe-eyed face, radiant in its healthy cheerleader glow. I would fantasize about her for hours after school in the small crevice that was my bedroom. She was a world away from me. She was rich, a cheerleader, a popular girl. I was barely scraping by with my sad little paycheck, worked after school and never had time for things like sports or cheerleading. But I worked hard and had a few friends of my own. (None of whom seemed to be here at the 20th reunion, I thought, leaving me stranded.)
I decided to get myself a drink. After all, I had driven two hours and gotten a hotel room for this event and I wasn't about to ditch even though I was surrounded by all of the people who made me a little nervous in high school. Tough shit, I thought. I kind of want to see what's happened to some of these people anyway. So I got myself a whiskey and water, settled in near the bar, and surveyed the room. For the most part, it looked as though people fought for months to get themselves into their outfits for tonight. None of the women sported the gigantic hair of the 1980's that was so popular in my school. Now, they all wore smart bobs or polite, genteel ponytails. They all dressed like moms. I looked down at my backless dress and the leather jacket flung over my arm. Still the different one, I thought. I gestured for another drink.
"Let me get that one for you," I heard a silken voice in my ear. Turning, I faced her—Nancy Harding, right there, offering to buy me a drink. "Hi," she said. "You probably don't remember me but I'm Nancy."
"I remember you and thanks," I breathed, trying not to seem as flabbergasted as I was. "You cheered for Bishop Watkins School, right?" Stupid, I thought, what kind of line was that? (Bishop Watkins was our brother school, the crop from which we chose our prom dates and Friday night lays.)
"Yeah, that's me. I remember you. You were kind of eccentric and you always had your hand up in English class." She laughed and it sounded like little bells to me. "Do you want to go sit down?" She asked.
I was wishing I had someone to look at as if to say, "Are you SEEING this?" But, like I said, my crowd wasn't here. So I followed her to a table. "I like your tattoos," she said and added, "I think you're the only one here with one." I looked around at my classmates and had to agree. This was not a tattoo crowd and here I was, showing off mine with my revealing dress. She fingered the swan on my back. "I really like this one." I shivered with desire. (Keep it cool, I told myself.)
We chatted some more, went over what we had been doing for 20 years. She had gone to school for business and had a prestigious job in a big firm for many years. "But," she said, "My husband wanted me to stay home. He's very old fashioned. So I quit and I have just been riding my horses and teaching lessons ever since."
Husband. I didn't like that word when it referred to Nancy's life. I had wanted her to be free, like me. I was a writer and artist and made my own hours, came and went as I pleased. She had to ask her husband for permission if she wanted to go somewhere. "I don't mind, really," she said, "it's a pretty fair trade-off for all I have...you know, nice house, horses, a good man..."
But, I thought. I know there's a but there. You know, "a good man...but..." I waited for it but it never came. It dawned on me briefly that I was here, talking to my high school crush like we were old pals. She touched a tattoo on my arm and sighed. "Can I tell you something? Promise not to get weirded out?"
"Sure," I said. "Shoot."
"OK. Well," (and here she looked around to make sure no one was listening), "I have always had a massive crush on you. I mean you always dressed however you wanted, had your hair short, and you never seemed to take shit from anyone."
I laughed and said, "Really?" I was highly amused and somewhat aroused, having just finished my third drink. She looked sorry she said it, so I quickly followed with, "No. I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing because, well, because I had a crush on you."
"If I can be honest, I still do," she told me, and that feeling of nervous nausea came back. My hands were clammy again. I wiped them on my dress. "Really?" I asked her with raised eyebrows that belied how awesome I really thought that was.
"Where are you staying?" I asked.
"I have to go home tonight. I only live about 20 minutes from here and my husband is expecting me."
"Oh, that's too bad," I said, running my finger along her arm...hell I wasn't going to miss this chance; what did I have to lose? "I'm staying around the corner at the Sheraton and thought maybe we could continue our conversation there." She looked at her drink so I said, "I have a bottle of wine with me that I brought in case I ran into any friends." That seemed to decide it for her. I got this sense that she was a little more than a little nervous.
"OK," she said. "I'll get my coat and then I'll follow you over there."
In the car, on the way to the hotel, I let out an earth-shattering whoop. This was more than what I could have dreamed up.
At the room, I let her in and threw my jacket on the bed. She did the same. "How about some wine? I only have plastic cups, is that OK?" I asked. She nodded.
I turned to open the bottle and fill the cups. It was then that I felt warm lips touch my shoulder. "I've wanted to kiss that tattoo all night," she whispered, taking her cup from me. She took a sip, then took both of our cups and placed them on the desk. She walked toward me, cat-like, put her arms on my shoulders, and said, "I've been waiting twenty years to be able to do this." She kissed me. Her lips were so soft like feathers, her fresh outdoorsy smell enveloped me, and I nearly swooned. We stood there kissing for a moment, savoring it, letting our hands roam each other's bodies. I cupped her perfect breast then let my hand creep down to her thigh; the curves of her body were maddening. I kissed her again and took off her sweater. I kissed her neck and she let out a little moan of pleasure. I guessed I was doing the right thing. Neither of us had been with a woman but we both seemed to know instinctively what to do. I slipped out of my dress. I don't generally wear panties so I stood there naked in front of the biggest crush of my life. She sucked in her breath, and said, "Oh wow. You're so beautiful." I blushed. She hungrily took my nipple in her mouth and I felt her hand edging between my legs. I spread them a little. Her fingers found my clit and rubbed rhythmically. My body tingled as I pushed myself into her hand, groaning with pleasure. We kissed and her tongue circled my lips and tongue.
I pushed her down on the bed. I couldn't stand it any longer. I needed to be with her, to feel her, smell her, taste her. I needed it more than air right then. I buried my face between her legs. She smelled sweet and was already wet. I nibbled her neatly shaved mons and lips. I swirled my tongue around her clit and she pushed her hips toward me, moaning. "yeesssss..." she whispered. I remembered everything I had seen in the porn movies and slid my finger in and out of her slit as I licked. We rocked together in a rhythmic way, a gorgeous entwinement of our bodies. I felt myself drifting into a sex-filled trance. We rocked and rocked. Soon, her breathing came in irregular bursts and she was bucking her hips hard. "Oh my God, I'm cumming," she shouted, sounding almost surprised. And she continued to buck and make beautiful tiny noises of joy for a moment. I looked up at her and smiled.
"It's my turn," she breathed, flipping me onto my back. She lay her body on top of mine and looked into my eyes before kissing me softly, first on the mouth, then the chin, and she lingered forever on my neck. I groaned in ecstasy. Slowly, so slowly, she kissed her way down to my breasts. She twirled her tongue around my nipple and gave a little nibble. My breasts rose to meet her mouth. My senses were heightened. Every little touch felt like magic. I could smell her lusciousness. She kissed my stomach and I tensed a bit, sensing where she was going. I wanted to feel her mouth on my clit. I almost couldn't take it anymore. She was driving me wild, taking her time, kissing around my navel and below. Slowly, she kissed and nibbled my labia softly, sweetly. Just when I thought I would explode, I felt her tongue gently lap my clit. I moaned. I was already quite wet and felt like I was going to come as I never had before. This was amazing. Here I was, with my 20-year crush, her head between my legs! Her tongue traced tiny circles on my clit and she sucked tenderly. She flicked her tongue quickly then and hard. My eyes rolled upward and I felt the surge move through me like lightning. I was coming. I grabbed her head as the orgasm rippled from my head to my toes. It felt like every cell of my body was coming. My screams echoed off the walls of the little room.
I pulled her to me and we kissed. I rolled her on her side and slid one of my legs between hers so that our pussies were touching. She gasped. I began to rock back and forth, feeling our clits rubbing against each other. We rocked slowly at first then with more fervor. Soon, we were both screaming, coming, spent. We lay together for a few delicious minutes, breathing softly. She lifted her head and looked at the clock.
"Shit," she said, "I've got to get home. It's 2:30 already!"
She kissed me again and dressed. "Thanks for a great night," she said.
"Mmm. Thank you," I replied, all sleepy.
"When do you think you'll be back to RI?" she asked. "I'd love to see you again."
Truthfully, I had no idea when I would be getting back around this way but I told her I would definitely call her when I was. I wondered if I would see her again as she closed the hotel room door behind her, her smell lingering in the room. I lay there basking in it and remembering the sway of her little ass as she walked away. I knew I had a reason to go to my high school reunion and I'm sure going to come back for number 25.