Imperfections

"It sure is." She stayed right where she was. Happily, she didn't seem to be in any hurry to sell the bed.

"So Rachel," I said, "I'm going to be working on my post-grad at Mines, but I've been in this town less than twelve hours. What can you tell me about it?"

So she spoke about Golden, its small-town feel, its mining history, where the good shopping was (she knew the best places for guy's clothing too) and where to find the best hiking trails. She raved about the tours she'd taken at the National Renewable Energy Lab, the Coors Brewery (free samples!) and the National Earthquake Information Center, which was right on campus. Rachel was positively giddy about the cool technology she'd seen. I liked that in a pretty girl.

While it continued to rain, we talked for an hour or so about our respective college experiences. She was working on a double major in physics and mathematics, and hadn't yet decided whether she was going to teach or go into industry. She'd grown up in Oklahoma, but had fallen in love with the mountains and really wanted to stay in Colorado after graduation.

Rachel had lived in the dorms as a freshman, then shared this two-bedroom apartment with a female friend of hers for the last two years. A recent setback in her stock portfolio, though, had left her with a serious shortage of financial resources.

"My mom funded our college accounts with an inheritance from my grandfather," Rachel explained. "It really wasn't all that much, but I managed to get a really big scholarship and my account was going to be enough to pay the rest. Since it tanked, though, I've had to wait a lot more tables and cut my expenses to the bone.

"My family has no money to spare and I really don't want to take out any loans. I'm going to use up the rest of my principal by the time I graduate this spring, but if I'm careful, I can get there."

She had a tight budget in college? I could sympathize, and I too hated the idea of student loans.

Rachel admitted to being something of a homebody and that she hated parties and the bar scene. "I have friends, but I also like my alone time," she said. "Why would I want to get drunk and try to scream over loud music if I could sit home in a comfy chair with a good book?"

That kind of attitude was way out of the norm in the college sphere, but she said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And to me, it was. Most of the weight in my U-Haul had been boxes of books, now sitting on my living room floor, patiently waiting to be placed into those built-in bookshelves.

I told her about my four years at MIT; the amazing instructors, the intense academics, and the competition from the vast array of top students from all over the world. We'd done an awesome team robotics project during my senior year with the sponsorship of a major manufacturer. I'm sure I was quite animated about it, engineering being my passion, but Rachel was right there with me, swapping stories about her instructors, fellow students and the incredibly competitive environment at the School of Mines. I realized quickly that she was, at the very least, my match academically, and probably a lot smarter too.

"I guess I'm just kind of a nerd at heart," she admitted.

I'd never met such a gorgeous nerd. If I'd been a little braver and self-assured, I'd have told her so. "There's no 'kind of' in my case," I told her instead. "I'm hardcore."

Emboldened by her admissions, I told her about how I'd been so incredibly busy that I'd had very little time for socializing. Then, not being very bright, I admitted that I'd been more comfortable that way, having a plausible excuse for not being more social, and that I hadn't even had a date in three years.

When that last bit left my mouth, I mentally kicked myself, figuring that I'd just blown it. What kind of moron tells a beautiful woman that he's that big a loser?

"You don't seem all that shy around me," she pointed out, not seeming to judge me for it. I heaved an inward sigh of relief.

"Well, somehow you just seem different, Rachel. Maybe I just picked up that you're a shy person too."

She nodded her head contemplatively. "Yeah, maybe that's why I feel so relaxed around you."

We lapsed into silence for a while, just listening to the rain on the roof and savoring that comfortable feeling.

The rain finally eased up. "So where in Oklahoma was your dad's cabinet shop," I asked, avoiding talking about the bed. Once money exchanged hands I'd have felt duty bound to start the process of taking it down and moving it. I was enjoying Rachel's company way too much for it to end so soon. She didn't appear to be in any hurry either.

"Oklahoma City," she said. "He loved doing fine woodwork, but he barely made enough money to support the family."

"Is that why he quit?"

She paused for a long moment and I had a sudden premonition that I'd really put my foot in it. "No. He died of a heart attack just before I turned thirteen." The tone of her voice wasn't reproachful, but I still felt like a thoughtless idiot.

"I'm so sorry, Rachel," I said, rolling up on my side to be able to face her. "That must have been rough."

She turned toward me as well. We were close to each other now and I loved the look of her face on the pillow next to mine.

"Really, Alan, it's okay. I hate to make a big deal of it since it was so long ago. My mom thought he was crazy, crafting this big bed for a twelve-year-old, but I was always his favorite. I think he knew he didn't have long and wanted to give me something I could keep with me. I'd bet he was imagining me in this bed with my husband and a whole gob of kids sandwiched between us, just like it was in our family when I was a kid. I'm sure he would have liked that."

Wow, that was a powerful image, but an agreeable one. "Rachel, are you sure you want to sell it? I don't know if I'm heartless enough to take away something that means so much to you."

"No, Alan, don't get me wrong. I understand why he made it for me, but it's the memory of the thoughtfulness and love he put into it that means the most to me, not the physical object itself. If he were still alive, I'm sure he'd tell me to sell it if it would help me to graduate."

"Well, I suppose..."

"Look, Alan, it's just a bed. Wood, vinyl, cotton, a little metal. I'd heave the thing out the window if it would give me back a single minute with my dad."

I nodded. I completely understood that, but hearing her express her feelings for her father somehow made me willing to share something that I hadn't talked about in a very long time.

"I lost my dad too. He went to prison when I was an infant and he died there about six months later. After that it was just my mom and me."

"Wow. That must have been tough, not even having a memory of your father."

"Actually, it was good that he wasn't in our lives after that."

Rachel paused for a long moment, obviously considering the implications of that statement. She evidently decided not to ask me why, and that was just fine by me.

"So if it was just the two of you," she said instead, "I'd bet you and your mom are really close. There were five of us girls and I was the tomboy, so I didn't get a whole lot of my mom's attention."

I nodded. "My mom was everything to me, but when I was fifteen and had just gotten my learner's permit, we were out for a drive and I got us into a wreck. She was killed." I barely got that out without my voice breaking.

"Oh my God!" Rachel exclaimed. "That must have been horrible!" Her deeply stricken look made me feel like a real jerk for having laid it on her.

"Look, Rachel, I'm sorry. It's not something I normally go around telling people."

"No, really, it's okay. I'm honored that you were willing to share it with me." She looked so sad. "How did you survive a loss like that?"

"It took me several years to get past the worst of it, but I don't think I'll ever truly forgive myself. The other guy was drunk and he ran a red light, but still I can't help thinking that if I'd been paying closer attention, maybe I could have done something to-"

"Don't even talk like that!" Rachel interrupted, surprising me with the forcefulness of her response. "The same thing could have happened to anyone. It wasn't your fault."

In the years after the accident, I'd lost track of how many people had told me exactly that. Yes, of course it was true, but it never seemed to make any difference. I'd been the one behind the wheel and I could never shake the nagging guilt in the back of my mind that I should have been able to do something to stop it.

For all that, the proclamation of my innocence from Rachel's lips made me feel better somehow. "Thank you, Rachel. Hearing that from you helps."

She smiled. "Well, if I can be of any-"

BANG!

A bolt of lightning struck so near that the enormous peal of thunder seemed to explode at exactly the same instant as the brilliant flash. It momentarily lit up the room like broad daylight and the sound literally shook the building. Rachel's reaction was immediate and extreme. She screamed, threw herself into my arms and buried her face in my chest. Both the lightning and her reaction caught me completely by surprise.

I wasn't sure what to do, so I just went with it. "Rachel, it's okay," I murmured as soothingly as I could, gently stroking the bare skin of her back. Then, as if to put the lie to my words, another bolt struck almost as close. The lights flickered, then the power went out, leaving the room only dimly lit by the heavily overcast late afternoon light coming through the single window. Rachel pushed into me even tighter, causing me to roll onto my back with most of her length on top of me. It seemed obvious that she had a big issue with lightning.

I kept murmuring words of comfort, and as the next few bolts seemed to draw further away, her trembling eventually eased. I wasn't in a rush, though, so I continued to hold her. I certainly didn't mind, and figured that she'd eventually recover her composure. That's not what happened, though.

Just when it seemed that she'd turned the corner, her trembling turned to tears and she began to sob, seemingly inconsolably, against my chest. Her face was turned down and away from me so I couldn't get a read on what was going on with her, but I got the definite impression that this was about a lot more than a thunderstorm.

This situation was not at all what I'd imagined when I'd shown up at her door. Here I was, lying on a bed in a bare room while a girl I'd just met sobbed on my chest. I noted to myself that I should really have been weirded out, but strangely it just felt right that we should be here like this.

"It's okay, Rachel," I murmured at last, "the worst of the storm has passed."

"I know," she whispered. She lifted her head and looked at me. I noted that Rachel was one of those rare and lucky women who look even more beautiful when they cry. She started to get up off of me, but I let her know with just a slight press of my hand that she was okay where she was. She settled back down.

"Alan, I am so, so sorry I threw myself on you like this. I must have really freaked you out."

"Well, I suppose most people don't have quite that strong a reaction to thunder."

"Yeah, I really don't like it, but given a moment's warning I'm normally able to put on a braver face. That one came out of nowhere, though."

"Then I'm glad I was here to help you through it."

Rachel lifted her head to face me, then smiled. "You're my knight in shining armor. Thank you."

"It was my pleasure. Look, I don't mean to pry, but I got the impression that there was more going on with you than just fear of a storm."

She nodded. "I was only scared for a minute, but then the way you were holding me brought back memories of how my dad used to comfort me whenever there was a bad storm. My sisters laughed at my fear, but he understood." She laid her head down on me again. "I miss him so much, but I hadn't cried over him in a long time."

It had been many years since I'd held and comforted another human being, and it felt good to have been there for her when she needed someone. "It sounds like he was a great father."

"He really was, but you know, there's something you do when you hold me that he never did."

"Really? What's that?"

"Pop a big boner against my hip."

Her words took a moment to sink in, then, "Oh shit! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-" I stopped yammering when Rachel gently pressed her lips to mine.

Her kiss was definitely a surprise, but a very pleasant one, and after a mere moment's hesitation, I began to kiss her back. Her lips were soft and warm and I would have been happy to continue indefinitely, but she gently pulled away after just a few seconds.

"Now that I have your attention, Alan, let me tell you that I like that reaction from a man when I'm lying on top of him." There was a twinkle in her eye.

Her words emboldened me. "I'd like to think it says I have excellent taste."

"Well yes, yes you do," she said, "but you're not the only one here who's sporting an involuntary physical reaction due to the extreme, yet quite welcome, proximity of an attractive member of the opposite sex."

I liked her nerd-talk. "Yeah, I noticed that earlier," I said, taking a risk by reaching up with the back of my finger and lightly brushing an erect nipple through the fabric of her dress. I couldn't remember ever being so forward with a woman before.

Previously, I would have assumed that a girl who would allow me to touch her so intimately this quickly was probably a bit too loose with her morals for my admittedly old-fashioned tastes. Then again, with Rachel it just felt natural. In any case, I reminded myself, I shouldn't be critical of the girl for getting frolicsome if I was doing exactly the same thing.

I looked at her to see if she was really okay with my touching her, but her face had a faraway look on it, like she was making some kind of important decision. Then the look was gone, replaced by a plainly determined expression. Something had happened with her in that moment.

"There's stuff in your way," she said. "Here, let me help." She reached to the nape of her neck and undid the straps holding up the top of her dress.

The undoubtedly eager look on my face probably disguised it, but I was starting to worry. I'd been comfortable with Rachel when we were just flirting, but now that things were turning serious I was starting to wonder what she'd do when she found out the ugly truth about me. That had never gone well in the past, but I selfishly didn't want to stop just yet. If there were even a tiny possibility that this could work out, I'd take that chance and let the chips fall where they may.

To my pleasure, she sat up, straddling me, and I delighted in the feel of my erection pressing against her crotch under her dress. She was holding her forearm across her chest, keeping her dress up even as the straps fell down from her bare, flawless shoulders. I tried to be patient as, with an unaccountably serious expression, she moved her arm lower and lower. First, the upper surfaces of her incredibly proud breasts were exposed, then the tops of her perfectly-sized areolas. Finally, her swollen nipples and shapely undersides came into view. They were even more breathtaking than I'd supposed.

"Oh Rachel," I murmured quietly, "you're so beautiful." I slowly and tentatively reached up to touch them.

"Wait," she said. I put my hands back down, carefully hiding my disappointment. "Before we go any further, there's something else you should see."

Without further ceremony, she let her dress fall down the rest of the way to her hips, revealing what she'd been so nervous about.

Rachel had a massive port wine stain, starting just under her right breast and continuing down into her panty line in a rough shape reminiscent of a crescent moon. It wasn't one of those light, salmon-colored stains; it was the real deal. Deep red to the point of being almost purple. I had never seen a birthmark that large, and showing up on a body that was so otherwise flawless, it came as something of a shock.

I guessed then why she had stopped me from touching her. She wouldn't want us to be too invested in each other if this was going to be an issue for me. And she plainly expected that it would be.

I looked up into her face. There was an incredible vulnerability there. She was nervously biting her lip and her expression spoke of a nearly palpable uncertainty. Rachel was holding herself out for inspection and awaiting a decision on whether she was acceptable to me.

In response, I reached up again. She didn't stop me this time as I put my hands on her bare sides and lowered her down to me.

When my lips first touched her chest, it wasn't on one of her perfect breasts; it was just underneath, at the very top of her mark. I felt her shiver as I kissed her there, wetting my lips as if to melt and taste the stain.

"Oh my God," she murmured.

I continued to kiss her with wet lips and used my hands to guide her above me so that I followed the border between her blotchy red and flawless olive skin. The birthmark wasn't just a discoloration; it had a rough and fibrous texture to it. I followed the boundary line down the front of her chest until I arrived at her navel. It was neatly bisected by the stain and Rachel gasped as my tongue wiggled inside for a moment, then continued to move south. I kept on kissing, tonguing and loving her body until I reached the top of her pink satin panties.

By now she'd mostly crawled out of her dress. I guided her to roll off of me and onto her back. Without asking permission, I began to slowly slide her panties down and continued to follow the stain border across her lower abdomen. Her stomach, gloriously flat and toned, quivered as I met her pubic hair.

Rachel hadn't shaved there, that not being the custom of the day, but she was very neatly trimmed. She began to moan as I kissed nearer and nearer to her center, so without breaking my lip lock, I pulled her dress and panties down around her knees. She made no protest as I slid them off and tossed them over the foot of the bed. She lay naked beneath me.

Even in the dim light, I could see that the border of her birthmark went nearly perfectly down between her nether lips. I kissed her lightly there, barely touching her. Rachel moaned softly in frustration, obviously wanting more, but that wasn't what I was doing, not now.

I followed the edge of her birthmark onto her right thigh, a place where the stain wouldn't be covered by even a one-piece swimsuit. Then I lifted her knees onto her chest so that I could follow it as it went underneath her.

It was now that I finally looked back up to her face. I could see a trace of embarrassment there from being so totally exposed to me. There was also some passion and excitement from being touched in such an intimate area, but if she was still apprehensive about my acceptance of her, I couldn't detect it. Good, that was just what I'd hoped for.

It was also very obvious that her body was reacting to what I was doing, as I spotted a small rivulet of her juices winding its way down her taint. It was on my way, so I licked it off as I went by, to the accompaniment of Rachel's gasp.

The stain ran about four inches down her thigh, then up again to cover the lower quarter of her otherwise flawless butt cheeks before writhing up her other thigh. I let her legs back down and kept kissing, slowly moving back up into her bikini line and then completing the circuit up and across her chest. As I finished, I placed my hand right across the fattest part of the stain before lying down on my side, facing her, kissing her lips gently and sharing with her the now faint taste of her arousal.