A Tiroir is a Drawer

She turned a shade of red, and I just stayed quiet and waited; we drove on.

"You're kind of nice yourself, Kev."

I put her license back into her purse. "So, are you, like, better now? Healthy?"

"Since like 5th grade, last time I had any real pain. I'm a tough broad."

I laughed. This was exactly like her. I asked, "You never would date any of our group. Is this... why? Are you afraid of the age difference?"

"Partly. Partly because of the boobs."

"Sure you can! Lots of seniors date sophomores, like me." I was asserting facts from my universe, but it seemed reasonable to say.

"Pickings are pretty slim, Kev. Even then, an older girl to date younger isn't the normal way, I don't think. Guys usually date downwards."

"What if I had told you I was really a 68 year old guy in a 19-year-old's body?"

She laughed at that and said she still wouldn't date me because then it would be me taking advantage of her.

I said, "What is the advantage? You'd get a young guy's body, like, making love like 10 times a day, PLUS, you'd get the old guy's ability to lick you silly."

We drove in silence for a minute and pulled into my driveway.

As we stepped out, she said, "I've never been licked silly."

We got the paint and went inside. Mom was making dinner. She and Amy knew each other really well, and I'd warned mom (with a note) that Amy might be over for dinner.

We headed upstairs with the masking tape, rosin paper, primer, and brushes, and I felt really happy I had the chance to work with Amy. She was nice and kept making funny comments about what I was going to do in my massive new digs.

She was right about that - my room would have two walk-in closets, a full ensuite bathroom, be well-separated from the rest of the house, and be about double the size of the master bedroom my parents were in.

I decided it would be perfect.

The only problem? Insulation in the garage below and probably the attic, and the leaky windows.

Windows couldn't be fixed in winter, but we could put up cellophane insulation, that would help. I'd seen that in hunting lodges back in the day, on a vacation after college.

We kept at work, went down and had dinner, then came back upstairs; when we got up and looked around for the next task, I asked, "So, you want to crash here tonight?"

She laughed, "Are you serious? First you invite me over, then you tell me this crazy vision story thing, and then you're super-forward and not the standoffish formal guy I've been around for years. What's up with you?"

I was apparently different than I thought I was. I'd have to watch it. I didn't want to be found out.

"Oh, just want to peek at your Montgomery's glands."

Her eyebrows went up. She didn't know what those were, but she didn't want to say so.

I went back to moving things around, and we got back to work. Pretty soon, her extra 3 shirts were off again, and we had most of the lightswitch faceplates off and bagged.

As she was working on one of the last ones, I came up behind her and put my chin on her left shoulder, watching what she was doing, then put my right arm on her right shoulder, feeling it move.

She said, smiling, "Do you mind?"

I moved my hand to her back, then down her shoulder blade, caressing her shoulder and back, rounding the side of her body and settling above her hip. "Just steadying you, so you can be more... secure."

Her smile came through her voice. "You're making things weird, Kevin."

"I'm making things Better, Amy."

"Didn't you just say you were going to boink Jane?"

"Marry her. Eventually. Months and months away. Then, I'll have to be a devoted husband. Until then, I can be... with you."

She turned around, and I turned, too, moving slightly away and leaning against the wall, but catching her left hand.

Holding her there gently, I said, looking in her eyes, "That's not important right now. What's important is all the cheap and tawdry moves I'm going to put on you, and how I'm going to prove that I know Exactly How to caress you."

She looked at me and got a puzzled look in her eyes, "You're ... so different, today, Kev. Last week, happy go lucky, loving a chaste movie with romantic love, and now, boom."

I laughed and pulled her arm in, and she stepped towards me until I could get my hands on her waist. "No pressure here, Amy. Just opportunity. Are you going to remember, 5 years from now, how you successfully avoided being Kissed? Are you going to wonder, 'what would my life have been if I missed out on that kiss, that first, great kiss?'"

She put her hands on my shoulders, squared, not decided entirely, but willing to be moved.

I stayed put, looking in her eyes, and rubbing my hands up and down on her lower back, what part I could reach by her sides, loving the sensation of her thin ribcage. I wasn't tickling, and I knew it, but I wasn't squeezing hard, either.

We looked into each other's eyes.

I licked my lips, and looked down at hers, then back up at her eyes, and waited.

She looked at mine, and did the same thing, and then stepped in more. I took my right hand off her hip and dragged it up her body, then to the side so it contacted her arm (and a little bit of her breast, 'accidentally'), then open-palm-up'd the side of her head and pulled her into me.

We got closer and closer. The air between our lips was electric. We kissed, tentatively, and then let our tongues move together - I went in her mouth, then pulled out and teased her with the tip of mine, and she let her tongue roam, too.

My hands kept roaming, too, but only on her back, biding my time.

Her hands roamed on me, squeezing my arms and side and back, almost like she was checking if I was real.

I said, breaking the kiss, "Yes. I'm real. This is happening. You are beautiful and have nothing to hide. I'm the ugly guy with too much body hair."

She pulled away, breathing kind of hard, and was confused. "You don't have too much body hair. I've seen you without a shirt before."

"A memorable instance?" I had to be vague with the questions, it might have been an everyday thing somehow.

"Last summer. You were mowing the yard. I stopped by. You were busy, but I just stayed there, pretending to drink a glass of water in your kitchen while you pushed the lawnmower around. It was delicious. I watched you until you were almost done, and then I snuck out the front door."

As amusing as that was, I nibble-kissed her cheek near her ear. My ex-wife liked that.

Amy liked it, too, and emitted a sigh like, "HrmmMMMmmm..."

Looking at Amy's eyes, I said, "Put your arms over your head."

I thought she might say no. She put her arms up.

Slowly, I lifted the bottom of her t-shirt, letting my fingertips graze the skin on her sides. She was still leaning into me, my back against the wall, but somehow I was in control.

The shirt came up, and up, and up... and over her heavy-duty jog-bra, and over, and off.

Reaching to her arms and kissing her, I guided them to grab the bottom hem of my t-shirt and pull it up, then I put my hands over my head.

She pulled it up.

I over-flexed comedically as she got it off and she laughed, and we went back to kissing.

I just let my hands roam across her back, the soft young skin delighting my fingertips. I knew she had to have scars, she'd said so.

Her jog bra didn't have a clasp, just lots of elastic.

I broke our kiss. "I'm worried about something. I spent all day carrying boxes upstairs and downstairs..."

We were right next to the ensuite bathroom and turned on the light.

My plan was reasonable - this bathroom was far enough away from the rest of the house we wouldn't be overheard. No one had taken a shower there in a long time - the bar soap was even cracked.

Guiding us in, I shut the door behind us and closed the shower curtain. "I think maybe we should conserve water."

She was smiling broadly, totally in on it with a one-eyebrow-up smile, "Oh, that's what we're doing?"

I stepped out of my shoes and unbuttoned my pants. "I believe the first person in, they get to stand under the warm water, but the second person just gets cold bounce-water."

"Dork. How do you know about that?"

"I've got a fertile imagination... But, mostly, I read a lot."

She considered her options. She could walk out. She could go ahead. She could wait until I was done and then go.

She chose to unbutton her pants.

The incredible butt I'd been seeing glimpses of, I got more of a view of - she turned around.

Her back had a super-light set of indentations that could have once been a web of scars, concentrated around her shoulders and then down diagonally to her other lower ribcage. I stepped in and kissed her shoulder, on the scars, gently, then stepped back and kept going.

She got her shoes and pants off, then turned on the water, but not the shower, crouching and keeping her hand in it.

Her bra-clad boobs pressed against her knees.

I kept getting undressed, and it came to the fateful moment: my underwear, pushed down past my knees, then stepped out of, and my socks, one then the other.

I was naked.

My cock was definitely up. It was up farther than I remembered it being up, a pleasant surprise. If I could have thanked Morgg the AGGI, I would have.

The water took a while to warm up. Her head turned to the side, and she did a double-take, seeing me standing not too close but nearby, my cock up and right there. She said, "Oh," and I could see her take a catching-inhale breath. She smiled, and looked back at me, her eyes very deliberately looking up to mine, then back at the shower water.

Warm enough, she stood, arranged the shower curtain, and pulled the spout, adjusting the temperature, then bending over and getting her socks off, then pulling her bra and panties off.

Her body was in profile and she was embarrassed, I think, shy, and stood inside.

I went to the other end of the tub and came in that way. She was looking down, facing the water, and I could see an incredible body in front of me. She had been hiding in plain sight, and Wow that was nice.

Her back scars had some patterns that were more visible with her bra off. I could see a set under her lower ribs on both sides, making a line, obviously surgical scars in contrast to the ones on her shoulders.

I came up behind her and narrated what I saw - slim waist, beautiful rounded hips, muscular butt cheeks, amazing legs, and knelt behind her. Reaching out to steady myself, I held her hip and kissed her butt cheek, then rose and kept kissing upwards, getting to her shoulder.

She turned around and hugged me, and we kissed. Her breasts pressed into my chest, soft and warm, but poking me with two strident nipples.

I looked down and saw some of the scarring went down her front and across the upper portion of her breast, and even down slightly.

She said, "You haven't touched them yet." I was pretty sure she was nervous and this was an important question.

I said, "You are more than the sum of your parts, Amy. I want the... the _inside_ part, your emotive cardiopulmonary organ."

She rolled her eyes, "Good line, buster."

I looked at her eyes and said, "You are so much more beautiful than I'd even hoped for, but it's utterly irrelevant since I get to feel you this way - on the inside, too."

As we hugged I considered and I was pretty sure I'd given a passing answer.

Realizing our hot water heater wouldn't last forever, I said, "Soap. While we have hot water."

She laughed and we soaped up, helping each other. She gave me strict instructions on no soap near her vagina, that's her job, only, and she's careful because it burns. I echoed that with my urethra, and we got good and soapy then rinsed off.

Her boobs were well taken care of.

By the time we were rinsed off, including me using bar soap on my hair (which she was aghast at, and I just shrugged because it was mostly short anyway), the water was decidedly lukewarm.

We finished up and got out, and I realized we had a grand total of one hand towel in the whole place. Not even a bathmat.

Leaving her there, I opened the door, snuck out, walked to the bathroom in the hallway (dark, it was 9:30 but my parents were still downstairs watching TV), and returned to her with two clean towels from the linen closet.

Thinking ahead, I said, "My mother will figure this out if both are hung up. We should leave mine on the floor as a bathmat."

"Not so dumb, there, Cooper."

"Correctamundo, Mrs. Cooper-number-two."

She stopped, open-mouthed, puzzled and like she'd been punched and did a double-take. "What did you just say?"

I analyzed her reaction. It wasn't happiness. I suck at this. One of the things I've learned, as Aspergers and ADHD, is that I suck at this. I said, "Right there. That expression. I suck at this. I'm an idiot in a meat suit. I have just enough autism that I have Zero Idea if I've just said the perfect exact thing wrong, or not. Did I fuck up? I usually fuck up."

She bit her lower lip and looked at me, my face filled with the fear I was genuinely feeling.

Carefully, she replied, "Not sure yet." She kind of squinted at me. "Presuming facts not yet in evidence, maybe. Or, 804 utterance against interest..."

I finished drying off, hung my towel up to dry on the rack, she put hers on the floor as a bathmat, and we got our clothes together. "My bedroom. Walk, don't run, don't sneak. Calm, easy." I switched to Billy Crystal Jewish accent, "Rush a miracle, son, you get rotten miracles."

"Where's that from?"

I almost said, 'Best movie ever made, comes out next year,' but I stopped myself and said, "Comedy bit I saw once. Let's go."

We walked, her holding her clothes in front of her and me likewise, and we walked back to my room.

Shutting the door and locking it, then moving my small file cabinet to block fast entry in case the simplistic lock was thwarted, I turned to see she'd gotten my bedside light on.

I turned on the stereo, admittedly old but decent, and put on the nearest record, some Debussy. Low volume, but good enough as cover-noise.

My bed was a twin. Not a great size for making out, but we could make do.

I pulled down the covers and lay on my side, opening my arms.

She sat on the bed and looked at me. "I'm not ready for this. Too fast."

I chuckled, "Fine by me. I just want some skin. And, kissing. Kissing is good. Kissing is REALLY good."

She nodded and leaned in, then changed her mind and just lay beside me.

We kissed, and kissed, and stroked skin. Her hand found my cock, only half-up by that point, and quickly made it full-size by just a little stroking. "I suppose you want this monster to squirt soon, don't you."

"Not before I make you come." Thinking on it, I corrected, "Shift around." My hand made the turn-around motion. "...Let me kiss you while you kiss me."

"I'm afraid I'm..."

"Too beautiful to kiss? Possibly. Tasty? Definitely. I've already tasted."

"You...?"

"My hand brushed. I tasted. I definitely want more."

She was dubious that I'd done that. I sort-of had. I'd gotten pretty close, and she was really wet. It might have been shower water. I didn't care.

"How?"

"I have to be on the bottom. Kneel by my shoulders."

We arranged in a 69, and the memory of doing this before took me over. It had been 25 years? I couldn't compute. I remembered, though, there's no memory so strong as looking at beautiful sexy body parts, especially triggered by smells I enjoyed smelling.

She was nervous, I knew, so I emphasized that I wanted more of that with a, "Back that thing up here, baby!"

Laughing, she settled her butt down to me; from down my body I felt her start to play with my cock. This, an amazing feeling, wasn't something that I had access to anytime recently.

Knowing enough to put my right arm up by my right ear and leave the other below to hold her leg in place, I could pull her butt cheeks apart even more than they were. Her lips were swollen, and (from my Before times, pr0n-inspired internet explorations of medically accurate, 3-D MRI scans and exploded diagrams of muscle-nerve-connective internal-structures), I knew exactly what that was about.

Her clitoral body, meaning the whole interior thing, was excited and swollen - it had to be, to raise her majora lips like that. Inside, she had to be, too, I knew, so her senses were on higher sensitivity settings already.

Still, no composer (except maybe Berlioz or Orff) starts at triple forte, so I knew to start kissing my way in and saying quietly, "Tell me what you like, I want to hear it. If you need a pillow to stuff in your mouth, great, but tell me?"

I didn't wait around.

Kissing my way up the back of her thigh to her butt and inward, I stroked her skin and worked my way inward until I was right next to her lips... and then pressing lightly on them, then more firmly. She reacted with a small whimper, and as I ran my tongue up her lips and dipped in between, I got a sense of her wet readiness. She was Definitely Turned On.

One finger flicked, I danced it around on one lip and then dipped inside while my tongue (flat, long, soft strokes starting above her clit head, since she was upside down to me) got her breathing hard. Putting her head down on my thigh, I knew I had a skill that was useful, and made it happen.

Two fingers in, slowly, and out, and in-out rocking every 2 seconds, I made the licking rhythm match every-other count, and gave her something to expect and depend on. The climb she made in excitement turned to amazement (by her voice), "OhmyGod can you really do that? Oh....fuuckyeah wow you ... how do you ... yes, do that, do THAT, yeah, make that...."

I did make that happen.

A trivial orgasm is flash-pan fast and gone; a medium one builds in one straight line. With my ex-wife, I'd had practice, I knew how to make this work well, a 3-wave build, speed-and-slow, and get her there on a schedule.

She got there! Oh, Boy, did she get there!!!

I was having serious fun. Her inside bumpy walls stretched slightly as my fingers pressed in gently to distend them, and a slightly rougher spot on her front wall gave a strong-inhale-jump when I tickled it. She had a G spot. Not all women did, I had heard. My ex-wife had, but I couldn't easily reach hers with my fingers.

Amy's g-spot was finger-accessible. Excellent!

Her tensing up and breath, and deep moans, went into a section of bedspread she'd pulled up, I think. My ears were muffled by her legs and I had to hold on for dear life as I kept licking even as she was coming.

Of course, stopping a lick pattern just at a climax would be horrible, so I just kept on going.

She kept on coming.

Her gasps and whimpers were those of a crazy person, though I could tell she was trying to keep it quiet.

After 20 to 30 full seconds of this (and that's a long time to be in the height of orgasm), I relaxed my lips to let her clit-head loose. I'd sucked it just inside my lips and did a fast-flicker with my tongue. My speed wouldn't match a trumpet player's triple-tonguing, but I was okay, probably.

I'd have to get better.

Sometimes odd things occur at odd times. I'd have to get a lot better. It seemed I was good enough for Amy, and that's what counted, but I also aspired to be good enough for Jane, and maybe some other people if that might be possible in my life ahead, but I didn't know how long that would take.

Letting my fingers fall away and releasing some pressure on her, she relaxed and started laugh-crying, and I think it was close to crying.

She just lay there, breathing, for a good long while, settling down, until I patted her on the thigh and told, "Hey, spin back around and lie by my side awhile?"

Moving, almost lethargically but with jumps as she tried to figure out what parts of her body were hers again, she came back around.