Revenge of the Nerd Ch. 28

The next two days were like being on a honeymoon. We put all our focus on being together. We ate meals out. We didn't do laundry or dishes. We made love.

We went to a movie. We took walks. We played Scrabble - once. Never again will I allow someone to so thoroughly humiliate me at a game.

He even let me take him to a club where I knew the bouncer so we didn't need fake id, which was good because Jeff didn't have any.

It was very generous on his part. I could see him trying to pretend to have a good time for me.

He found the music "energizing" but he looked worn out when he finished saying it.

The people were "friendly" but he made no attempt to talk to anyone.

The whole evening was "a lot of fun" but I could see the thinly disguised panic in his eyes.

He really tried not to let me know how awful it was for him. It was incredibly sweet.

One thing I knew for sure: he could never lie to me. He did insincerity so badly.

I began to see some of why this might not be fun for him. It was too loud to talk effectively. People were trying to impress each other with their clothing, their drinking and their dancing. Their faces took on masks of enjoyment for each others' consumption just like Jeff's was for mine.

I enjoy dancing around with complete freedom. But it doesn't compare to dancing cheek to cheek.

I loved walking around during the day hand in hand. I loved leaning against him as we watched the little ducks follow their moms by the pond.

A honeymoon is a time when you pretend the rest of the world is irrelevant and all that is important is the two of you and your immediate pleasures. This was a make-pretend honeymoon, but why should that be spoiled by one more level of make pretend?

On Sunday we had to pack and the mood was spoiled. My packing was relatively minimal. I would be back here in the fall and I could leave whatever I wanted. Then we faced what to do about Jeff's stuff.

We knew I would be back, but was it 100% certain that he would return? What might happen during the summer that could change that?

"I think you should take your stuff, Jeff. If I have room to take it home now, I'll have room to bring it back in the fall. You never know."

"What don't you know?" he asked.

"What could happen."

"What could happen? Are you unsure about us?"

"No. Not even a little bit. But, you know, stuff happens you don't plan on."

"I see. So if my parents bought a vacation cabin, my dad should bring his stuff home when they leave because, you know, stuff happens you don't plan on."

"That's not the same thing. That's unfair," I said.

"What's going on? Do you think you don't deserve it or something?"

"I don't know. I just have a foreboding. We don't have any formal commitment or anything, you know. Anything could happen."

He took a deep breath. I think that's why his tone was calm instead of agitated.

"Have you ever heard of divorce?"

It was rhetorical; he didn't wait for an answer.

"People make a formal commitment. Based on it they have children. They acquire property and debts. And then more than half of them dissolve the formal commitment.

"In the final analysis, if you're committed to a relationship, the formality or legality of it should not be enough to deter you from doing what you believe in.

"I say: assume we're not getting divorced. If the unlikely occurs, we'll figure out how to deal with it. I'm committed to being in this place with you again in a few months."

I conceded the argument with an embrace.

We left some of his stuff in the drawers and in the closet.

When he wasn't looking, I snuck one of his unwashed InTime shirts into my suitcase. I wanted to be able to smell him while we were apart.

A week later I got a last-minute surprise. I got to tell my parents I was going to graduation; I had some friends to support and it had slipped my mind.

I did have some friends to support, but Jeff had forgotten his family would want to go. His 4.00 average was sending him to grad school in the fall. The school had rushed his grades because the possibility of his graduating had previously been unanticipated.

Just a few days later I would find out I had earned a 4.00 as well.

I told my parents I wanted to make the trip leisurely and, since I had nothing planned except packing for Europe, I would be spending a few days at school.

Jeff just told his folks he'd be spending a few days at school without bothering to supply an explanation. Even his sister knew why he was taking the extra time.

When I picked him up that removed any possibility of subterfuge.

Jeff met me at the door and I really couldn't wait. I put my arms around him and leaned in for one of those delicious kisses. Just as important was to revel in his aroma: the scent of his soap, his shampoo, the laundry detergent his mother used and a scent that was unique to his skin underneath it all.

Sometimes there was the added bite of his perspiration. I didn't know if Jeff was reveling in the Ashley fragrance, but he was content to just hold me close as we shifted position now and then.

"I don't even know what to say. I don't know exactly what it is you two are enjoying so much, but it is very sweet." Sunny beamed.

It was sweet. Neither of us felt any urgency to stop in front of an audience. Eventually we felt we had refreshed our connection sufficiently to hold us over until we got to school, and we left.

It was a delight to spend the time together. It didn't matter to me what we were doing. Well, I did mention some preferences now and then without pressing the matter. I wanted to try something new.

I felt the compulsion to drag him into bed and make love with him until there was only time left for him to shower, dress and rush to the graduation exercises at the last moment.

But I thought of something that might be even better: I waited.

We went out for a leisurely dinner. I insisted we walk around town rather than return home immediately. Finally, I agreed to return home. When we walked in he grabbed me and started toward the bedroom.

I objected.

"What's the problem?" He sounded like a petulant child.

"I want to watch some TV."

It was casual, as if I had nothing in particular on my mind and this seemed a harmless diversion.

"What's on that's so important?"

"I don't know. Do we have a TV page?"

"You don't even know what's on, but you know that what you want to do is watch TV?"

His tone had changed abruptly. He had figured it out. He was a savant after all. His whole demeanor, his body language changed as well. No longer the petulant child, he was the playful puppy.

"I think we get Home Shopping on 33. Maybe they have some good knick knacks."

He had taken control of the game so easily, but I was up to the task.

"No. I think I want to watch something on Lifetime. Maybe they have something that will put me in the mood to get romantic with you later. You never know. You might get lucky."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"No big deal. If it doesn't work, I think I have my travel Scrabble with me. We can play until we get tired and turn in."

He succeeded admirably at sounding bored. But disinterested was a performance at which I had many years of practice and there was no way he could beat me at that game.

And so we played.

We both feigned lack of interest while trading repartee through a whole numbing evening of Lifetime reruns of movies with three-word titles. It could have been calledOur Playful Evening.

At least it should have been numbing. I was simmering. Then I moved to a slow boil and by the 11:00 News it was a rolling boil.

By the way he was fidgeting I was pretty sure he was in the same condition. I wanted to take a sharp knife and slice his clothes off right there on the couch. But I didn't. I managed to maintain my control.

He stretched.

I scratched my head.

The weather came on at around 11:15. The next few days were going to be very pleasant.

Inside it was hot and steamy.

I laugh now at our obstinacy. Neither of us wanted to lose. But even to lose meant getting to enjoy the pleasure we could barely restrain ourselves from starting.

That didn't help. We sat through sports and the final amusing story, whatever it was, because I certainly wasn't paying attention. I was thinking of his smell, his taste. I moaned involuntarily.

"Excuse me?" he said.

"I, just had a muscle spasm in my back. Nothing to worry about."

"Oh. Okay."

"Leno, Letterman or Nightline?" I asked.

We had real issues to discuss.

"Doesn't matter."

"I think we might want to consider a compromise here."

I was only offering the possibility. I had not lost by speaking first.

"Which one is the compromise?" he asked.

"None of them."

"So you're suggesting?"

"Hey, you're the man. You have the remote."

He hesitated before he picked it up, held it in his hand as if really making a decision and turned off the set.

We both dashed for the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way.

The first time was not going to be a feast to be savored. We had allowed ourselves to become far too hungry.

We went at each other with a frenzy, interrupted several times when we burst into uncontrollable laughter based, I assume, on the incongruity of the endless foreplay where we did nothing for hours followed by a brief flurry of activity where we tried to make up for everything we could have done in all that time had either of us been willing to give in.

Thanks to the recuperative powers of youth that did not put an end to our evening. It was completely different from our first session. But it was also unlike the delicious feasts Jeff had shown me in the beginning.

It was slow, extended, done with great care. But it lacked the technical design. The approach was essentially the same. The care we took was essentially the same. But the connection was emotional more than it was physical.

When I would kiss a spot, I would be acutely aware of the taste, the smell, the texture, the heat, sometimes even the sound. I would think of the person I had become, was becoming, wanted to become, because of knowing the man whose skin tingled against my lips.

Sometimes I would notice a meaningful reaction. He would make a throaty moan when I gently kissed the bottom of his neck where it joined his shoulder.

I'm sure he noticed those things as well because he would visit my hot spots much more frequently than would be expected by mere chance. In fact, those were his exact words. You didn't think I was starting to talk like that, did you?

When we finished that night, I felt like what it must feel like to run a marathon. I was high on endorphins and had exhausted my body's available supply of energy. If there had been a fire, he would have had to carry me out.

When I awoke, he was in the kitchen making breakfast, judging from the aroma.

I was relaxed, content, and so happy that I wanted to share it with the world. That's what gave me the idea. I picked up the phone and made a quick call before I dressed, scantily though it was, for breakfast. I didn't want him to think the honeymoon was over.

When the hearty breakfast was over, I led him back to the bedroom. I wanted to wring one more orgasm from him while we still had the chance.