Firsts: Two Little Birds

Walking up to the patio bar, I let you go ahead of me so I can enjoy the view. The summer sun has washed all the colour from the world except for the richness in your skin. While you order, I trace your perfectly rounded shoulders with my eyes and find on them, two little birds. Each with their wings extended just after take off, coloured in the light green of old tattoos. You turn to pay and the white cotton blouse and dark hair cut off their escape route, only to be shown the path of freedom as you settle down on a stool.

Our eyes meet and there is no doubt in hers as to what I was watching. She smiled and I return the gesture.

"Your turn," she said gesturing towards the barman with her pint.

"I'll have what she is having."

"A bit cliché for an opening line don't you think?"

"I wasn't aware that I should have been delivering one. Would you prefer something newer, say from a Cary Grant movie? I hear they are all the rage now."

"Now," she said, leaning in, "you are speaking my language."

"I am sorry, but whenever I meet an attractive woman, I have to start pretending I have no desire to make love to her."

"What makes you think you have to conceal it?"

"I am worried she might find the idea objectionable."

Her lips painted with a deep red shade of lipstick started to lift upwards as she remembered the next line, "Maybe she might not."

"You would make a good Miss Kendall, even if your look is a little more Modesty Blaise."

"Thank you for noticing, and may I add, you are no Roger O Thornhill."

I held up my pint up and we toasted each other.

"Are you going to still try?"

"Me, no, it is just that I already have a preoccupation as it were."

"Sorry to hear that." There was no hint of colour, no blush as she said it. She took another draw on her pint and turned around to survey the patio. The two little birds flew past me and went out of sight.

"Before I go back to my friends, my current preoccupation is with stories, would you mind if I asked what would have happened if I had said yes?"

She paused for a minute then glanced over, "Are you married?"

"No, not yet."

"Well then probably not much, single men tend to get quite clingy."

"I don't doubt it. In the interest of my current line of inquiry, I call the book I am just finished up: Love, Loss and Lust, what category would we have fallen into if I was indeed taken?"

Without looking towards me she responded after a pause, "Perhaps a little of all three, but all good liaisons flirt with lust, love and loss equally."

"One would think that's the way they should be, but for me they work the other way. They all fuel each other." She lifted her head slightly, hopefully in contemplation, but I suspect more that she was surveying the group that had just walked on to the patio looking for a table. "Please, give me one last liberty of knowing what it is beneath your white drape, what leads those birds to fly away?"

"I don't think you have earned the right to learn about them but since you made me smile twice and then pause in thought, I will give you some fresh fodder for your stories. Do with it what you like. I will tell you about the first time I was taken, when I truly, truly released myself to another. It was the first time I fully understood the term petite morte. And the reason why I like to be in the company of married men." She turned to me, drew closer but only enough so that could hear her voice above the chatter, no closer.

"I had chosen my first lover,"she continued, "he was a wrestler. I took him back to my tiny apartment and teased him with a fashion show from my lingerie drawer. Slowly building up the courage to be fully naked in front of him, I would change out of sight behind the open closet door. Each time I selected another outfit that met with his approval, I let him see a little more of me when I changed. I could barely look at his muscular body, the way it tensed and turned as he watched me dance and spring across the bedroom. He was barely contained in his pants, it was the ultimate sign of approval and at that point in my life, my biggest fear.

"After we chose my favourite lavender lace camisole, he told me to come to the bed. I froze momentary in shock, he slowly rose up from the bed and surrounded my body with his giant arms. He kissed me deeper than anyone ever had or ever will. The fear passed, calmed by the warm embrace of his body I was powerless to resist as he maneuvered me down to the edge of the bed and towering above me, our eyes locked together as he slowly removed his clothes. The pause went on forever, I could not fathom what he was to do next.

"He looked towards my chest of drawers and reached for the still open drawer and lifted up two silk scarves. Dropping to one knee, he disappeared from my view and I felt his lips envelop my toes, then the feel of his rough skin along the bottom of my ankles. I shivered as his hands reached up and slowly drew my lavender panties down to the floor. I can still replay the sound of lace moving down across my mound, along my thighs and briefly holding on my calves. He then weaved those silk scarves up and around my legs, slowly finding every place that had yet to ever be touched by another. At the back of my knees he ran the edge of the scarf along the place where my nerves past closest to the skin. The back of my neck began to tingle as the blood pathways between my head and heart opened up.

"Moving his body over mine, he gently pressed into me, brushing past my sex, it felt larger than my entire tiny body. The scarves focused on my inner thighs.The other girls had told me of their first experiences with sex and had warned me that boys would always be a clumsy mess and go right for you to enter. I anticipated him doing the same but he held back. I wondered if I was his first first or if I was just another girl. Lost in that thought, I realized too late that he now had me fully pinned. The silk scarves lightly moved powered by the tips of his fingers, pushed along my ribs and dancing across the sides of my breasts where my bra straps had always dug in. They finished their run just below my wrists on the inside of my arms. I would have been shaking uncontrollably in their wake if not for the heat of his body. I felt his grip on my arms tighten."

She pause from her story for a minute, her chestnut eyes moving down and to the right.

"Oh how I pour over that maneuver in my mind, even to this day, how he looped the scarves around my wrists and pulled them tight. From then on I was his puppet. My arms could only follow as he moved my body from position to position, always taking me close then releasing me just before the peak, using his power to turn me again. Always leaving my hands on some new muscle group, so that I could feel them expand and contract as he moved inside of me. Those finely tuned muscles lead me, contorted me, but never distorted me. I lost count of the time and the times I came close.

"Both our bodies turned to fire and the sweat made it almost impossible for him to hold me now, with one look of his hazel eyes, I knew I had been given permission to finish. Yet I could not, he must have sensed that I been taken too far, releasing my right arm, he reached for the glass of water on the beside table. Spinning me one last time on to my side, he wedged his upper leg in between my thighs and stopped moving back and forth. His leg put pressure on the upper parts of my sex and at the same time, I felt the cool glass make landfall on my lower back. It sent a shiver up my spine and then my body went into spasms, the pressure built in my head and then erupted forward in a gush, it was if I had exploded forth like a man. I began to pant until everything went faint, the room turned to the same colour of the inside of my eyelids. Now he had truly gone too far again and when he fully realized that, he let go of me and my body dissolved into the sheets. When I awoke he was massaging my back, His fingertips kneaded into the breaks of my body. We never again managed to reach those heights again, no matter how much I provoked him, he was always soft with me. I suspect he thought he had broken me, and I was too young to tell him what I wanted. To tell him that he had set me free.

"I have always sought out that moment that even my lover could never indulge me in again. Once or twice I have come close but the memory, she is hard to please and harder to contain. Now that I am older, I prefer all the passion and pent up energy married men carry inside of them. Yet, even with all that want, they still could never make my body dissolve away, they always fall on the side of selfishness."

Her chestnut eyes had a touch of orange fire in them as she recounted the story to me but began to fade as her lips came to a rest. My gaze once again fell on her shoulder as she turned away to survey the patio and the birds flew past one last time.

I took the hint that it was time to make my exit. I told her that she was right, I doubt I could ever release such a rare bird and then reached into my jacket pocket and brought out my silk handkerchief, which I always considered just for show. I ran it along the inside of her arm, then let it fall upon her wrist and walked away leaving her to find her pigeon and stare into the late day sun.

The End