April's NST

I wrote this years ago. It very well maybe one of my first reflection pieces I ever wrote. This is a story of coming into my sexuality even though I would not have sex for several years after this took place. I hope it is a good read, my next NST will be about GI-Joe. (Those who know me already know about him and he is delicious:)




These are the kinds of moments that are forever seared in your mind. Mine took place on a school bus oddly enough. I was fifteen and a bunch of us were coming back from the district basketball game. It was the first time I become conscious, I mean truly understood desire or that I was becoming a woman. It awoke feelings in me that had been dormant my whole life. They had always been there, just waiting to rise to the surface and explode throughout my body.

It was December and cold out. We all stood on the sidewalk waiting for the bus to come around and pick us up. I forged cold and he came over and draped his arm around me. We finally got on the bus and he sat next to me. The seats were cold and ugly green. I draped my feather down coat around my front, pressing my back into the seat with such force I thought I might crash right through the back.

My mind was reeling, and he sat next to me smelling so good. All I could think of was, “Please touch me.” I thought the screams in my head, the pleas that I wanted to yell out had actually escaped my lips, and had been heard by him, but they had not.

He sat next to me quiet, almost timid. I was after all a “good girl”. I grew up in a Christian home where one should wait until marriage. I truly believed in waiting, but my body was screaming against the logic in my head. A battle began to rage in my mind.

I didn’t say one word to him. I just put forth the signs and hoped that my eyes said what I wanted; when I wasn’t even sure I knew what I wanted. I wanted him to caress me the intimate way I had never before known or experienced. I had read about those feelings and heard about them from friends without understanding the true meaning of how it might feel.

He slowly silently put his hands on my neck. He caressed me ever so delicately as if I might break from the gentle pressure. There was not kissing, just slow caresses. He moved snail like toward my shirt, all the while thinking please hurry with an urgency I could not understand. I wore a lavender shirt with black velvet paisleys on it. It buttoned all the way down the front and the shirt ended at my belly button. I somehow felt sexy in that shirt without understanding why.

Then he slipped under my shirt, then under my bra. I kept thinking, “Don’t stop, and please no one look this way.” The sensations I felt were new, an assault on my senses at the same time. I lost myself in them. A slow building of emotions that had no ownership or understanding rose to the surface claiming to be real and good despite my minds battle to say stop. I forgot that it was a cold December night, that we we’re on a bus surrounded by so many others. My feather down coat provided a shelter, our own little world where my senses soared. I could not believe that such slow curricular caresses could become so much.

He slowly moved from my breasts to the button on my Silver tabs. Logic snapped back into place. I grabbed his hand and said to him, “I’m not like her, I’m not easy.” So much of me wanted to find out what else was in store. If he could make me fly with feather light touches what else could he do? What would more feel like? How much more was there? I so wanted to know. But logic prevailed.

He sat quietly next to me for the remaining 13 miles, and I wanted to cry out, “ I made a mistake, that I wanted more. I wanted him to take me back to that place I had never been before and show me all there was to feel. The bus slowed and stopped in front of the high school, and a sad feeling sunk to the pit of my stomach. We got off the bus without a word to each other for about three weeks.

I walked into the school shop with a sandwich from the cafeteria, and there he was. He wasn’t standing in all his glory like I thought he would. He wasn’t some unreachable unattainable god; he was just a person, a person I adored. He was wearing Wranglers, and smelled that heavenly smell, Stetson. A cologne that was so cheap it should not smell good but does to me even to this day. It transports me back in time. Somehow I can’t remember, we both ended up in the bathroom in the shop. I took a bite of my sandwich and then threw pieces into the toilet.

I was nerves and wanted the same thing that happened that night three weeks ago to happen again. I was hungry, but all that escaped me and all that was left were those glorious feelings from weeks ago. I wanted to close the distance and just ask for what I wanted. I wanted him to evoke those feelings again. I wanted to say, “Touch me again like you did.” I couldn’t though.

I knew I should walk past him and open the door and walk away. Instead I stood there picking at the turkey sandwich from the cafeteria until five minutes or so had gone by. I pulled my eyes away from the floor and away from the sandwich. I looked up at him. I stared into those blue eyes that had captivated me long before the bus.

I took in everything about him. The fact he was slightly shorter than I was even though he was three years older mattered not. Everything about him captivated me. The smell of him I remember most, even now. He took one last look at me and then opened the door granting me the freedom I thought I needed but did not really want. The battle raged in my head with no ability to control it. He said some flip comment I can’t remember, but it hurt me.

He challenged my senses, my beliefs, and had me question my faith. He shook me to my very core and despite all my efforts otherwise, logic won out. I have never forgotten that night on the bus where my senses were awakened, where I felt sensations and feelings I had never felt before. They felt so good that you long to relive those moments over and over. I guess you always do in the recesses of your mind.


Over fifteen years have passed. The next person that shook me to my core like this, made my skin tingle, cause butterflies flutter to life in my belly, make me lose my words and speech, was Parker.

9 comments:

Fruit Taster said...

Mmm, that leaves open a few questions, like who was "her", who was "Parker", and really, what kind of basketball game was that? :)

It's amazing how much power touch can have, especially when it's your first time. Your writing brought me back to when I was young and shy, wanting these things but not having any idea how.

I loved your description of the dual feelings of wanting it and not wanting it. I was talking about it with Her today and She could identify with that. I did too. I think a lot of us do.

Great post!

Lilian said...

Great post.
awww the excitement of a first kiss a first touch those darn butterflies will do us in all the time giving us a taste of what is to come a temporary high that we keep wanting to relive over and over again. Always in search of the butterflies eh ;)

Calliope said...

Fruit Taster,

"Her" was my best friend in high school. The game was good but I honestly can't remember if we won or not.


Parker is in the here and now and if you like short stories hit the Parker label and read them. They are hot! He makes me forget to breathe.

Also I have a blog going with in this blog under *Sober* (under sound track of my life.) which is all about getting rid of my addiction to him. He is intoxicating and delicious.

Fruit Taster said...

Intoxicating and delicious... Those are quite the adjectives to describe someone! Wow.

Calliope said...

Another amazing adjective to describe someone is euphoric or incandescent. I bet to you, Cate is incandescent.

In the darkest hours She is your hope and light and all that is good. She guides you towards the right path.

Look up *Euphoria* located in Aug 2008. Read it aloud to Cate, I think she may really like it even though the ending is not yours and hers it was my ending with Parker.

B said...

Something to be said for Wranglers, Stetson, and the shop at the old High school. This is definitely and ode to that "man"!

Enjoy the NTS.

cjn said...

WOW!!! I am super impressed by your first post under NST!!! What a way to lead us into the person you are today. I loved the way this story continued to build up. It kept me intrigued to the very end. I, along with Fruit Taster, love the battle of wanting it and not wanting it. There is something profound about our youth and how things affected us at that point in our lives. I'm quite certain, Mr. Stetson has never forgotten you either. Awesome Post!!!

cjn said...

P.S. I love your conclusion/introduction to Parker…… very clever.

Bella said...

I am so very very glad that you stopped at my blog and commented. Otherwise I might have missed your wonderful writing. I can't wait to catch up on all I've missed here thus far. Words to me, are as sexy as pictures and yours are so very delightful. I was holding my breath here and remembering those cold bus seats after basketball games and my infatuation sitting next to me. Only he never touched me, not on the bus anyway. :)