Back to Where It Almost Began

~~~~

Brenda was my first girlfriend. Also an import—her family had moved from Seattle in the final year of high school—we found common ground griping about the place, how hard the local accent was to understand, and how we both loathed seafood.

Brenda had a captivating face, thick blonde hair, and the biggest tits in school. She surprised me when later she said she wanted us to go together. Suddenly the cool guys who used to body check me into the lockers showed respect, like I'd won a prize. I nodded at their endless crude remarks about her boobs or ass but hated it.

Heather tolerated Brenda, but they never became friends.

That October, Brenda turned eighteen. I followed in November. We started fooling around, then in my bedroom on Christmas eve, we gave our virginities to each other. It was awkward and unsatisfying, but at least the deed was done.

We were very different, but she was one of the most beautiful girls in school and we were having sex. Later, I suspected Brenda went out with me because I was the first in our gang to drive and had ready access to my parent's car to take her shopping.

~~~~

Heather and I nibbled fries and watched the food court crowd. Overhearing a table nearby, I remarked it would take a while to get used to the local accent again.

Heather took pains to speak without the accent and local sayings, but she was a master. Looking at me over her glasses, she rattled off a rapid-fire spiel in the accent, laced with the creative, graphic profanity the locals took pride in. Some of the old timers could curse for twenty minutes and never repeat a word. I heard 'snot gobbling,' 'cock gargling,' and 'tittie munching' in her firehose of cursing and laughed.

I replied with my own imitation, though slower and with less imaginative swearing. We went back and forth, trying to top each other, until we were laughing helplessly as people around us looked on in scorn.

Heather wiped a tear. "You're still such a child."

"I know you are, but what am I?"

She grinned. "It'd be so good to have you back, Colin. When will you decide?"

"I'm visiting the company's local office the day after tomorrow, before I fly back. Then I have a week to make up my mind."

We stared across the table at each other, neither needing to fill the silence.

"Listen," she said after a moment, "will you come to my place for dinner? I'd love to show you what I've done with it."

"Sure, Heather. I'd like that. But I have to tell you that atom bomb of a coffee you gave me this morning has worn off. And some eager person woke me up pretty early. So, unless you want me falling asleep in your ratatouille, I'd better get back to the hotel for a nap."

~~~~

At the hotel, I tried resting but had a lot to consider. I liked how the city had become less of a rough seaport and more of a modern city. I was amazed how I felt more at home in it than in the small town where I had spent nearly all my life.

Would I have felt the same if Heather had still been in Europe?

She was so... Heather. Still energetic and playful and lovely in every way. Sometimes pushy, but so supportive and generous. If I moved back, though, we wouldn't be kids in high school. She had a business and a life of her own, and I'd be working a demanding job while trying to rebuild my own life.

Still, having a friendly face would make all the difference. Especially hers. I knew Heather wouldn't be able to stop herself from helping me get settled. And after that, we could get together sometimes, even if it meant having to eat ratatouille.

~~~~

Heather's apartment was at the top of the back stairs of the coffee shop.

Inside, greenery and flowers were everywhere. Broad-leafed rubber trees nearly blocked the street-side windows. Spider plants exploded from ceiling-hung planters. Spiky-leafed succulents reached from pots on the coffee table. The air was warm and humid as a greenhouse, filled with a garden scent, plus the smell of something wonderful cooking.

"It's grey here so much of the year," she said, "so I like coming home to green and life. Hey, want a drink to carry while I show the place off?"

I accepted a glass of whiskey while Heather poured herself wine.

She took my hand and led me around, her excitement infectious. She beamed at my every compliment, and I meant them: in high school she had shown me the second floor once—an unused expanse, bare to the studs and rafters. She had transformed it into a beautiful open plan apartment with a galley kitchen, bathroom with corner tub and two bedrooms. One bedroom she had set up as her office. The other, also crammed with plants and some orchids, held her low, wide bed.

On the nightstand I spied something long, greenish, and rubbery. Heather gasped and ran to sweep it into a drawer.

"Oops," she said, cherry red. "Guess I didn't clean up as well as I thought."

She served us fresh penne with a spectacular vegan sauce, sprinkled with fresh basil from her indoor herb garden.

"This is outrageously good, Heather."

"I'm glad you like it. From your look when I mentioned ratatouille, I figured I'd better make something else."

The wine and whiskey flowed, and we chatted. She related how she started eating vegetarian in Belgium and had been working to introduce some meat-free meals in the coffee shop.

"I've been cutting back on red meat," I said. "My arteries demand it. But I always love a good steak."

"Bleh. Poor innocent cows."

I laughed. "Hey, Heather? Back at the mall there were two guys holding hands. Used to be that kind of thing would get people beat up. Do you have many problems here being a lesbian?"

"It's actually okay," she said. "Complete acceptance, surprisingly, even among the old timers. But Colin, I'm not a lesbian."

I snorted. "No, of course not. How would I ever get that idea? Other than you were married to a woman."

She flicked a piece of penne at me.

"What I mean, dickweed, is I'm not only attracted to women. I get attracted to people."

"Uh..."

"It's a person I get attracted to. It's the person I love... not how they happen to be equipped, you know? When I met Alya in Belgium, I got to know her and became an Alya-phile. She was so wonderful. Then, after months, I started being an Alya-sexual. That she was a woman was kind of secondary. Get it?"

I digested that for a moment. "Um, okay. I guess I can see that. Then you've also been a guy-sexual?"

"I was with Devin for two years, dummy. No, sorry... that was after you left."

"Uh, you don't mean d20 Devin. From our gang?"

"Yeah. In college he became a lot less geeky. But stayed geeky enough. I mean, he wasn't you, but he was a great person once he learned to shut up about D&D once in a while."

"Wait. He—he wasn't me? What's that mean?"

Heather shrugged, looking pained. "Yeah. I was always a Colin-phile. You know that. And if you hadn't moved away, I would've told you just how much I'd become a Colin-sexual."

~~~~

"Colin, will you keep it down? The shop is still open downstairs."

Heather was half-way out of her seat, leaning across the table and ready to clamp her hand over my mouth.

"Goddammit, Heather! You liked me? And you never told me? I wouldn't have even looked at Brenda if I knew! I was absolutely nuts about you!"

Taking a breath, I calmed myself. Heather took her seat.

"I know you were, Colin," she said. "It was obvious to everyone. But I wasn't ready. Not just for you... for anyone. Not until final year. I mean, at first, I drooled over certain guys. Then it was specific girls. Then it was a few movie stars and performers. You saw my bedroom. You saw all the posters I had on my walls."

"Weren't those your favorite movies?"

"They were pictures of my favorite people. I watched every interview they ever did. Read everything there was about them. Then it was Tony that hot new dockworker who ate at the sandwich shop and read Rilke, then... oh, lots of people. I couldn't figure out if I was bi, gay or what. It took until senior year to stop trying to pigeonhole myself and I figured it out."

"You never told me any of that."

"How could I tell you what I didn't know? And how could I talk to you about that, when you had such a huge crush on me for so long?"

"We talked about everything!" I said. "I would've understood. Maybe helped you figure things out."

"You would have thought I was a freak."

Reaching over, I touched her hand.

"Heather, I was your friend! I would not have thought you were a freak." I paused. "Any more than I already did."

That comment got me pelted with another piece of pasta, but she returned my smile.

"So when did you, uh, start thinking about me?" I asked.

"Remember when my mom invited everyone to my 'Happy 18th—now get the hell out of my house' party?"

I chuckled. "Your mom was always a hoot."

"Yeah. I never stop missing her. That day, you gave me the biggest, longest hug and looked at me with such love. Such caring. It started something in me. I started seeing you differently. Maybe something like how you always saw me. Did I start acting weird around you after that?"

"I—I'm not sure. You might've seemed friendlier, maybe. I probably thought I was imagining things."

"Well, I was working up the courage to ask you—I'm not sure what. Kiss me? Fool around? Be my first? Then school started and Brenda appeared, and you were with her all the time after that. After graduation, when you found out Brenda was banging that Coast Guard guy and you dumped her, it was only two weeks before you learned your family was moving back. So, what would've been the point? You were leaving."

"You never even answered my emails," I said.

"Again, what was the point? I didn't even read them. I just couldn't. It would only have hurt. I felt like death without you, but I figured, you know, a clean break was best. You were half a continent away back in your home town. We were never going to see each other again."

"If I'd known how you felt," I said, "I would've come back."

She wrinkled her nose. "What about that motto of yours? Always go forward, never back? It's even the quote under your picture in the yearbook."

"Fuck that. I felt like death too. If you read my emails, you'd have known I'd applied to the college here. I was trying to find a way to get back even without knowing that you... you liked me. And if I knew... nothing would have stopped me if it meant being with you."

~~~~

We sat side-by-side on her couch, stunned and saddened, thinking about the missed opportunity. What we might have had together if I'd stayed or we'd kept in touch.

"We were just dumb kids, anyway," she said. "We would have just fucked each other raw then started squabbling over something and broken up. Like everyone does at eighteen."

"But first we would have fucked each other raw. I would've been okay with that."

Heather looked at me with revulsion until she noticed my grin.

She gave me a playful shove. "Dickhead. You know, I think I like women more because most women are a lot less vile than most men."

"I'll introduce you to my ex," I said. "You'll change your mind. So... was I ever vile?"

"Colin, you couldn't be vile if you tried."

"Aaaand my ex would disagree with you there."

"You were always a great friend," she said. "Always supporting me and looking out for me. You never blabbed my secrets to our friends. I could always trust you. And I never would have passed physics if you hadn't forced me to study with you."

"You were the same to me. I wouldn't have passed French if you hadn't forced me."

"From day one," Heather said, "you treated me like a friend, not a girl. You never once did the whole macho thing trying to impress me. Never tried putting your arm around me in the theatre or on the bus. I knew I could trust you to not make it weird."

"Well," I said, "there was that one time. In my room after we wrestled. I really, really wanted to kiss you."

"I remember," she said. "The way you were looking at me with such... not lust. Adoration? I could tell you were going to kiss me. And I wanted you to. I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest. But I wasn't ready. And I was scared."

"Scared? I wouldn't have groped you or anything."

"No. I mean I was scared that if we kissed—became romantic—it'd wreck everything between us. And I still didn't know who I was. I just wasn't ready then. I wanted to tell you. To say something. I couldn't. I was such a chicken."

She paused. I looked around at the jungle surrounding us.

"I might be ready now, though," she said quietly. She flashed a teasing sidelong look. "For a kiss, I mean. You could wrestle me for it."

"What? Get all hot and sweaty just for a kiss? What are we, in high school or something?"

"Oh, you want to raise the stakes, huh? Okay, then. Since there's no way you would win, if you beat me you... you can fuck me. How about that?"

Had she had too much wine? That was the last thing I expected her to say.

"That's... that's quite an offer, Heather. But—"

"Now who's chicken?" she said. "I mean it. It might do you some good. Get me out of your system. Me too. But you're not going to win, so I have nothing to worry about."

"Uh oh," I said. "I know that tone. What happens if I lose?"

A devilish grin spread across her face. She ran to her bedroom and returned with the evil looking dildo that had been on her nightstand. In her other hand was some sort of jock strap contraption.

Sitting beside me, she pushed the dildo through an opening in the strap thing and gave it to me to inspect. The dildo was terrifying: huge and green with dark veins and uneven bulges. The straps let you wear it.

"It's supposed to be a dragon penis or something. Alya and I used to play with it sometimes. I've only ever used it on one guy, though."

Wide-eyed, I said, "And did he enjoy it?"

Heather smiled. "Not much. Not at first. Then he said he came harder than he ever had in his life."

~~~~

We moved her coffee table to the side, making ample room to tussle on the big soft rug.

With an amused expression, Heather faced me and crouched into a wrestling stance.

"Wait," I said. "You want to do this in our clothes? It's hot in here."

She stood. "What do you suggest? Wrestle in our underwear?"

I nodded eagerly.

"Men," Heather said and sighed. "Okay, fine."

We stripped down, leaving me in an undershirt and boxers and her in bra and panties—a matched st of red lace. The panties sat low on her hips and through the lace of the bra, I made out the shadow of her areolas. She looked ridiculously sexy, but it was so completely unlike her.

"You've filled out, Colin. Whenever we went swimming you looked like a plucked chicken. Now you've got some muscle."

"And you've got some curves," I said. "Did your boobs grow?"

"It's called getting fat."

"You were so wiry before. You look really good, Heather. You wear that every day?"

She shrugged. "I felt like dressing up. Now enough stalling. Let's set the rules: the winner has to pin the other for a count of three. Agreed?"

"That's it? That's too easy."

Heather sighed. "Best two out of three?"

"The winner has to get the other naked, and then it's best two out of three."

She laughed and shook her head. "You're just awful. You're gonna feel pretty silly buck naked while I'm still dressed."

In my best Yoda imitation, I said, "So confident you are. Wrestle first and see, we will."

I covered my mouth to imitate a microphone. "Ladieees and gentlemen! In this corner, undefeated all-time champion, recently returned from an epic European tour, it's barista to bearded hipsters, plant mama and terror of the coast... Hurricane Heather!"

Heather grinned and speaking through her own hand said, "aaand in the other corner with a lifetime achievement of zero wins and all losses, it's the prodigal prairie wanderer, the literal one who got away... um, cow eater Colin?" She shrugged.

Laughing, we got into our stances and circled.

"You're doomed, Colin! Think I was strong before? I've spent the last few years lugging sacks of coffee beans up from the basement. You're gonna lose and get boned by a dragon dong."

"Yeah?" I said. "Bring it on, plant lady. I'm beef powered. All that vegetarian food has made you weak and listless."

Heather sprang. I dodged. She smiled, feinted right then lunged left but I was ready and twisted to the side. She sailed past, stumbling to stay upright.

Returning to the center of the rug, Heather tried again. This time she got me by the shoulders. When I twisted, she wrapped an arm around my neck and tried pulling me back to knock me off balance. I spun and we ended up on the floor, her on her back. Quickly, I straddled her waist and hooked my legs under hers from below.

The goal of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu is to skip the trading of blows favored by other martial arts and take the fight to the ground, where fights end up anyway. Years before, a coupon came in the mail, and I spent a summer taking lessons at a dojo. I learned just enough for it to be useful.

Heather tried throwing me off, but my legs hooked with hers stopped that. After a few tries we lay chest-to-chest, looking at each other.

"Am I in trouble here?" she said.

"Maybe," I said, grinning, and pecked her lips.

Before she could protest, I squashed her arms under my chest and rolled us over, putting her on top. Both my arms were free, so it was easy to reach around to unhook her bra.

"Hey!" she said, lifting up to cover herself. I took that opportunity to slide off her shoulder straps. Heather grumbled when her bra slid down her arms and her breasts spilled into view.

"Oh, that was so sneaky!" she said, but made no attempt to cover up. Instead, she sat tall, tossed the frilly red bra away and smiled down at me, proudly presenting her boobs to my greedy eyes.

Heather's breasts were lovely: full and shapely, the perfect size with the most kissable-looking nipples.

She exploited my distraction to drop to my chest and roll us. Our wrestling match continued.

The techniques I had learned helped, but Heather was still ridiculously strong. Soon she had pulled my undershirt over my head and away. Moments later, my boxers with their worn-out elastic followed.

I was naked while Heather still had her panties. She grinned and taunted me, looking confident. Suddenly I was in danger of losing the match. A glance at the dragon dong laying on the couch bolstered my motivation.

We flopped and rolled on the rug, laughing and grunting, taunting each other. In the apartment's warmth a thin sheen of sweat began coating us, making it easier to slip out of each other's holds.

Eventually I had forced Heather's panties past her knees. She shimmied them off the rest of the way. Now both naked and gleaming with sweat, we grappled again. Heather 'accidentally' grabbed my cock a few times and once swatted my ass, so in return I 'accidentally' took a handful of boob or squeezed her delightful bum.

I called a time out. We separated and sat facing each other, grinning with our chests heaving.

"All that dead cow you eat is slowing you down, Colin. I got you naked first."

"Naw. I let you."

"Oh, you filthy liar!" she laughed. "You did not!"

She sprang forward and tackled me.

Again and again, Heather fought for the dominant position, but I knew the leg and arm blocks to avoid that, leaving us clutching each other on our sides or with my legs wrapped tight around her waist. As the fight continued, it became less of a serious battle for dominance and more playful taunting, tickling, and grabbing.

When I was on top, she copied my trick of wrapping her legs high around me, straining to topple me, but I pushed forward. We both gasped and froze when the tip of my half-hard cock nudged against her velvety pussy lips, then slipped down to nudge her opening.