Jess

Ryan started laughing.

"I wondered how long it would take you to ask that!" he exclaimed.

"Are you... still in touch with her?" I asked, earnestly.

"Yes, we still chat to each other sometimes," he confirmed.

"And... is she coming?"

"Yes, she's coming," he said, smiling.

"And... is she bringing Mark?"

He laughed again.

"Mark and Jess split up ages ago," he said, then laughed once again at my facial expression upon hearing this news. "A few weeks after we all graduated."

"And..."

I didn't even need to ask the next question. Ryan knew what it was.

"Well, she's had other boyfriends since, of course. But... well, at the moment, yes, she's single."

This was the news I had waited to hear ever since that day when Ryan had told me Jess had a boyfriend. But there was one more question I had to ask.

"And... you know... should I? Would she?"

Another laugh from Ryan.

"John, we don't spend all our time talking about you," he said. "I don't know whether she'd go out with you or not. If you want to know, ask her, not me."

We carried on talking, but my eyes kept flicking over to the entrance door. Then, about half an hour later, there she was. Looking more perfect than ever. Looking back now, I don't remember any other detail of that scene. Just Jess.

It wasn't just me who was looking forward to my reunion with Jess, of course. Many of the other guests at the party approached her, and she stood there, laughing and joking away with them. I stood with Ryan, on the outskirts of the party, and kept glancing over at her. I was waiting for her to be left alone for a moment so I could have the chance to go and talk to her.

As the night progressed I got increasingly nervous. What if one of the other men at the party asked her out before I did? The longer I waited, the more chance that would happen. But if I did go over to her, what then? I was so nervous. All those nerves I had had back when I'd first met her, back when I had wondered whether to ask her out or not, what she would say, they were all back.

Eventually it was Jess who approached me, bright smile on her face.

"Hi John, how are you?" she asked.

"I'm... I'm fine," I said.

This was silly. I'd got over these nerves with her once, been able to laugh and joke away with her, but now we were back to where we started, back to that party where we had first met.

"What are you up to now?" she asked, still giving me that perfect smile of hers.

I told her.

"And you?" I asked.

She had spent some time working in France for her relative's firm, but was now back in the UK working at one of its British offices. She'd spent the last few weeks in Eastern Europe at the orphanages she'd spent time at in her gap year. She'd persuaded the company to sponsor her trip. Typical Jess, I thought. Such a caring person. I remembered the first time she had told me about her gap year in Eastern Europe, at that party back at University. I remembered how special I had thought she was then. I had been right.

"Remember... remember the first time we met?" I asked Jess.

She smiled. "Yeah."

"It was a bit like this, really," I said. "A party, same host..."

"Same you not socialising, standing at the side, chatting to Ryan," Jess smiled.

"Yeah."

"Same me coming up to you, trying to make conversation."

"Yeah. Same me making it difficult for you."

She smiled. "Yeah."

I laughed.

"I remember... you asked me out for a drink," I said.

"And you ignored me," she said, giving me a disapproving look.

"Is... is the offer still open?" I asked, tentatively.

A smile spread back across her face. Wow, she was beautiful.

"I suppose, yeah."

I was elated. Finally. But then, as I looked at her, as I remembered the first time we'd had this conversation, a little doubt crept into my mind. When she'd asked me out for a drink, she'd had a boyfriend. It had just been as friends. Was that what she meant now?

"Like..." I stopped. I had to know. And if she said no, well, I'd never have to see her again. At least I'd know.

"Like... as a date?"

Her face fell. Oh dear.

"A date?" she asked, concerned.

I couldn't back out now.

"Yeah... maybe... maybe we could go for something to eat too?"

Was this helping?

"John... I know that you really like me," she said, in a letting-me-down-gently sort of tone.

"But..." she continued. "You're just not my type."

All the excitement of a few minutes ago was gone. Over a year of hoping, wishing, and this was how it ended.

"Why? How?" I said, not sure what I should be asking.

"Well..." she said. "It's just... I never go out with anyone whose name begins with 'J'."

"What?" I said, incredulously. I hadn't meant to say it out loud, but I couldn't help it.

Jess burst out laughing.

I went from confusion, to disappointment, to anger. If she was going to turn me down, at least she could do it nicely. Not make fun of me like this. Not going out with people whose name begins with "J". That was funny?

Jess was in almost tears of laughter.

"Your face!" she exclaimed, laughing all the harder.

"What do you expect?" I retorted angrily.

Eventually she stopped laughing long enough to utter one word, "yes".

"Yes"? "Yes" what? From angry to bewildered.

"Yes, I'd love to go on a date with you," Jess said, and started laughing again.

What?

"The look on your face," she said, still laughing.

"What?" I asked out loud, still unsure of what was going on.

"I'm joking, John, joking. 'I never go out with anyone whose name begins with "J"'. C'mon. It's a joke."

"So... so, you do want to go out with me?"

"Yes, John, I'll go on a date with you."

For the first time ever, I hated Jess' sense of humour.

"Erm... OK," I said.

She looked at me expectantly.

I looked back, confused. Was there something else?

"Where? When?" she asked.

I laughed.

"I'm rubbish at this, aren't I?" I said.

"Yep," she responded.

***

So that's how, two weeks later, I found myself sitting opposite her in an Italian restaurant, on our first date. I was incredibly nervous: I'd waited well over a year for this chance, and I didn't want to mess it up now. Suddenly a thought occurred to me.

"Remember those shoes you were looking at once?" I asked. "The ones that cost four hundred pounds."

She thought, but didn't immediately recall. I wondered how many pairs of shoes she had looked at that cost four hundred pounds.

"We were in the computer suite," I continued. I recalled the moment in my head. It wasn't the shoes that made that moment so easily for me to remember, of course. It was the fact that Jess had been there. I remembered her - where she had been sitting, what she had said, the tone of her voice, her expression. But the shoes...

"They were red, I think," I supplied.

A look of recognition came across her face.

"Oh, yeah, those," she said, face brightening slightly at the memory.

"Did you ever get them?" I asked.

"No," she smiled. "They were amazing, yes, but I couldn't be bothered to save up four hundred pounds for them."

The date went well. We had plenty to catch up on since we'd finished University, and we got along as well as we ever had. But still the nerves were there. Would she want to see me again?

As we finished our dessert, I tentatively asked the question.

"So... would you like to do this again?"

"What? Eat this ice cream? Of course, it's delicious!" she said, deliberately misunderstanding my question.

"You know what I mean," I said, once again wishing she didn't have such a playful sense of humour.

She smiled.

"Yeah, yes I would," she said.

As we parted to go our separate ways, she kissed me, on the lips. Wow. How long I had dreamed of even that. It was worth every bit of the wait.

***

Our next date was to the cinema, the third to the races, the fourth to the theatre. Every date was a dream come true for me, literally. I'd spent so long wondering what it would be like to date Jess, to cuddle up close to her in the back row of the cinema or just hold her hand. I'd played the scenarios out a thousand times in my head. But now here it was for real, and the real Jess was a thousand times better than the Jess in my head.

We talked about our time at University, how she'd known from early on how much I liked her, how nervous I had been about asking her out, how disappointed I'd been to discover she had a boyfriend. But that was all in the past now. Mark was no longer in the picture (he'd actually recently emigrated to Australia, or so she'd heard). I was her boyfriend now. Perhaps there were men who were jealous of me now, as I had been jealous of Mark.

Neither of us wanted to rush anything. I'd waited so long for this. I wanted to savour every moment.

***

One day, I arrived at the house she shared with a few of her friends. It was almost a month since I'd last seen her, the longest period since we had started dating. She'd been back to Eastern Europe as part of her company's sponsorship of the orphanages there. I was looking forward to seeing her so much.

I knocked on the door and her housemate answered. She told me that Jess was running a few minutes late, but had asked that I go and wait for her in her room. She gave me directions.

I'd been in Jess' room at University a few times, but never here, never since we had started dating. Her bed was against the wall at the far side of the room, and she had set her clothes for that evening out on it. Her dress, her bra, her knickers. I'd never even seen Jess in her underwear. Imagined it, yes. I felt like I was invading her privacy somehow. But then, she'd asked me to wait in here.

I looked round. Dressing table with mirror. Make up set out ready. I imagined her sitting there, readying herself for our date. Some photos on the wall - some of Jess with her friends, some of what I presumed to be her family, some of her with the orphans in Eastern Europe, some of her with me.

She had a row of books lined up on a bookshelf in the corner. Travel books. Classic literature like Jayne Eyre and Sense and Sensibility. Some books in French.

Just then my literature review was interrupted.

"Hi John."

I looked up. There was Jess, one towel wrapped round her body, one round her hair. Wow.

"Hi Jess," I said.

"Sorry I'm running a bit late," she said, walking over towards her bed.

"No, no, that's fine," I said. It was fine. Seeing her wrapped in just a towel was more than enough compensation.

"I just need to get ready - it'll only take me a few minutes, I'll be quick," she promised.

My eyes were still fixed on her. I was stood in the middle of the room, she was now standing at her bed, facing away from me. What did she want me to do? Avert my eyes? Leave the room?

She dropped the towel.

There she was, the girl of my dreams, naked in front of me for the first time. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to look or not, but I couldn't help myself. What a perfect body she had. What a perfect bottom.

I looked up. She had turned her head and was looking over her shoulder. She had a nervous smile on her face. As soon as I looked up, she looked away again.

Then she picked up her knickers and stepped into them. Next she put her bra on, and I watched her fasten it behind her back. Then she turned to face me.

"You like this dress?" she asked, gesturing to the dress laid out on the bed.

Dress? What dress? My eyes were still exploring her underwear clad body.

"The dress?" she asked.

"Um... yeah, perfect," I said.

Perfect where it was, I thought. On the bed. Not on Jess. Not covering up her body.

Jess put her dress on and then quickly applied some make-up. I waited patiently, replaying the scene from earlier in my head. Jess naked. Jess in her underwear. What I'd waited for for so long.

Both of us were a bit quieter than normal on the date. Jess told me about what she had been doing in Eastern Europe, how she had helped out the poor orphans, and again I was overwhelmed by what a kind and caring girlfriend I had. But there was one thing that neither of us spoke about - what had happened in her bedroom.

I walked her home from the restaurant, and at her front door I gave her a kiss and said goodbye. I'd turned and was walking down the drive when she called after me. Did I want to stay for a drink?

Once again, I wondered what she meant by a drink. Did she just mean a drink? Or something more? I had to find out.

I turned round and headed back up the drive. She stood back to let me in.

The house was empty apart from the two of us. Her housemates, she explained, had gone camping together, and would not be in tonight. She made us both a cup of tea, and we sat there, drinking, in silence.

"John?" she asked, eventually.

"Yeah?" I replied.

"What's the furthest you've ever, y'know, gone with a girl?"

I blushed.

"Um... nowhere really," I said, honestly. "Just kissing."

She smiled, and said no more.

I wanted to know.

"And you?"

She smiled again.

"Well, my longest relationship was with Mark, as you know. I... I wanted to, but he was very religious. He wanted to wait until we got married. So we never did anything."

"Closest I ever came," she continued, her own face turning increasingly red now, "was with Barry. I went out with him after I split with Mark. We'd been going out for a few months. We both wanted to. We went up to bed. Undressed each other..."

I wasn't sure I wanted to hear any more of this story. I regretted asking now. I hated the idea of another man having his hands on Jess.

"...you know, started touching, but... but... I don't know. It didn't feel right. I don't know what it was. Maybe he was just too confident. I knew he'd slept with other girls before. I told myself it didn't matter. But maybe it did. I don't know. Maybe I just wasn't ready. It's supposed to be really special, your first time, isn't it? You remember it for the rest of your life? And I just didn't want that time to be the one I'd remember."

Wow. So Jess was a virgin. I'd wondered that for so long. I had never thought she would be. After all, she'd been going out with Mark for years. But she was. And where was this leading? Was this drink just a drink? Or did she finally feel ready? With me?

We looked at each other. She was so perfect. She was the only girl I'd ever felt like this about. The only girl I ever wanted to feel like this about. Perhaps the only girl I ever could feel like this about.

Just then, the front door opened. The spell was broken. It was her housemates. The weather had been terrible. They'd packed up and come home early.

***

Jess was special. She was the most special thing in the world to me. She wanted her first time to be special, to be perfect. And I wanted that for her too. Why she wanted her first time to be with me, I hadn't got a clue, but she seemed to. There must have been something about me she liked.

It was by now approaching two years since we had first met at that party. I remembered the exact date. Two years ago I had met this special, perfect girl. Two years later I was planning what I hoped to be an appropriate commemoration.

I'd asked her out for a drink. What else? I hadn't told her of the significance of the date. I wasn't sure if she would remember.

I turned up at her house at the appointed time, tingling with nerves. I was carrying a box, a gift for this special anniversary. I had dressed in my dinner suit, carefully dusted off and pressed for the occasion.

Jess came to the door dressed casually, and looked at me in surprise.

"I thought we were just going for a drink?" she asked, suspiciously.

"Well, yeah, I thought we could have a bite to eat as well," I said.

She looked at me even more suspiciously.

"I'd better go and change," she said. Just as she turned to go back up the stairs, she noticed the box in my hand.

"What's that?" she asked.

"A present for you," I said, smiling.

"Why, is it a special occasion?" she asked.

"Well, it's two years since we first met," I said, nonchalantly, as if it wasn't a big deal.

"Really?" she asked, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah," I said, handing her the box.

Jess disappeared upstairs, and I went and sat in her lounge to wait for her. I flicked aimlessly through the TV channels, unable to think about anything other than the evening ahead. It was a good half hour before she was ready. It was a good thing I'd left plenty of time.

Finally she appeared in the doorway. She looked stunning. She was wearing a "little black dress" that I had never seen her in before, showing just a hint of cleavage, showcasing her amazing figure perfectly. She had her hair down to her shoulders, just the way I liked it. She was wearing very little make-up. She didn't need it. She was naturally beautiful. And on her feet, those shoes. The shoes I had first seen her looking at almost two years ago, when the prospect of a night like this with her had seemed impossible.

"Like them?" I asked, gesturing to the heels.

"Yes, they're amazing," she said, face lighting up.

"They're the right ones, the ones you wanted?" I asked.

"Yeah."

Phew. At least I'd wasted four hundred pounds on the right shoes.

"Worth the wait?"

She giggled a bit.

"Yeah."

She smiled, slightly coyly.

"So, where are we going?"

"You'll have to wait and see," I replied.

As I drove us to our destination we spoke only occasionally. I was nervous because I knew what was coming up, she was nervous because she didn't.

It was only when we started to drive into the airport that Jess realised that this was more than just a meal out.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Where would you like to go?" I asked, immediately regretting this question lest it receive an answer other than the one I wanted.

I looked at her. She was looking at me inquisitively, chewing her lip slightly.

"Won't... won't we need passports?" she asked, thinking aloud.

I reacted with mock horror.

"I... I never thought..." I said, sounding panicked.

Her own expression changed to one of concern.

"How long do we have before the flight?" she asked, sounding worried. "Perhaps we'll have time to get back and..."

I started to laugh. I couldn't keep up the pretence any longer.

"Look in the glovebox," I instructed.

She did so, and pulled out two passports. She flicked them open at the details page.

"I asked one of your housemates to get it for me," I supplied.

"You've thought of everything, haven't you?" she said, smiling.

"I hope so," I replied, hoping she hadn't just jinxed my plans.

I found somewhere to park and we got out of the car. I went to the boot and took out two overnight bags. I handed her the one I'd had her housemate pack for her.

"Thought of everything," she repeated, shaking her head slightly.

Once inside the airport I couldn't really keep the secret any longer. I was taking her to Paris. I knew that she had loved her time working in France, and particularly enjoyed French cuisine. In fact, I even knew what her favourite restaurant was in Paris. She'd talked about it a few times in the past. We had a table booked there tonight.

The plane was, inevitably, delayed. I checked my watch and factored in the one hour time difference with Paris. I knew we wouldn't have much time to make it to the restaurant once we landed in Paris. I watched the minutes tick by, terrified that my plans would be ruined.

Eventually we boarded the plane and were in the air. Jess kept quizzing me about what we were going to do in Paris, but I kept it secret. It was a surprise, I told her.

We landed in Paris and went to find a taxi. I couldn't speak a word of French, so I left Jess to give the details to the driver. Which meant, of course, telling her where we were going. She shrieked with delight when I mentioned the name of the restaurant and flung her arms around me.