Nell

There were a couple of moments when my relationship with Nell could have drastically changed. The primary one, of course, is when I broke up with her, but even at the very beginning, there was a moment that I could have taken the relationship into my own hands, instead of letting it run its fateful course.

We met, as people often do, through acquaintances: she was a friend of a friend. From the first I was attracted to her: from her striking five foot eleven inches height to her firm, not too skinny, not at all "heavy" build to her generous bosom to this gleam she always had in her eye. It is somewhat surprising that I even noticed this gleam at first, given that when I met her she had clearly recently been crying. From that first night, our relationship was based on the kind of unstable intimacy that only can come from secrets told to quickly. Perhaps it was unwise, but we both craved it: for her the emotional release and for me the gratification of being a provider of comfort and confidentiality. So it was that we became friends before we were even acquaintances, we could embrace each other tightly before we could lightly touch each other's arm, and we were close friends that had never been formally introduced. Still, there was a large gap between our emotional closeness and our physical closeness.

Such was the case on the night we first kissed. We were out walking, and came to a nice wooden bench on a little used pathway behind a little used building. A stream ran nearby, and the late spring evening air was warm, moist, and a little hazy. We had been walking for quite some time, a were taking a breather. There is always the question, when sitting down a bench with someone, of how to orient yourself: should I sit sideways, facing her? Should we both sit facing forwards, and talk to the air? How close to the her should I sit? Fortunately, I was in front, and did not have to make these choices: I sat down at a neutral angle, and waited to see what Nell would do. I was pleased when Nell plopped down, clearly a little exhausted, right next to me, with not more than a few inches space in between us.

We sat for a few minutes, talking, mostly about the sunset, and how nice it is at this time of year, and then the talking stopped. Nell looked off, silent. I spent my time dividing my attention between the grass in front of us and Nell, occasionally trying to figure out what she was thinking about. As I was looking at her, she looked over at me, and the look in her eyes as she sat there said "I want to be kissed" more clearly than I have ever heard stated in words. So I leaned over in front of her, and kissed her. It was a strange kiss. Where most kisses I have been party to are soft, warm, and wet (or at least moist), this kiss was strangely forceful and dry, and so warm as to be called hot. I remember thinking how strange the kiss felt, and that it was stranger still that it felt so good. What I had intended to be a short, exploratory kiss had become an oral embrace that was lasting for minutes instead of seconds, as with one hand I drew hear head closer in to mine, and with the other placed on her
hip I pulled my lower body against hers.