Posted by: littlegirlyone | December 18, 2009

Killing the Flame, part 1

This is the first in the series I’ve been writing about my visit with Alan. When I found myself in his area of the country, we planned to spend some time together. There were good things, there were bad things. There were super dirty, hot things. And that’s why I’m sharing the story with you.
***

It wasn’t my fault, but I was late. Apparently, he’d texted me the address of the restaurant 5 times, but my phone wasn’t giving me these texts. By the time I got his phone call, I was a little stressed, driving in a vague direction he had given me without knowing where, exactly, I was headed. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s driving without knowing where I’m going. But his lunch break was only an hour, and I didn’t want to miss it.

The phone rang, an unfamiliar number with a local area code. I answered and felt better immediately. His calm, comfortable and familiar voice told me some easy directions: a left, a right. I wanted to fly there, but I got stuck at some long lights and cursed the slow-driving carpet van in front of me. Flipping an illegal u-turn without a second thought, I pulled into the parking lot of a neighborhood Mexican restaurant. I couldn’t see an address, and hoped I’d gotten it right.

Briefly, I studied myself in the car reflection: black. Everything from my lululemon pants (expensive, but yoga pants nonetheless) to my black and gold adidas and my black v-neck tee. I topped the black with an army green double-breasted jacket with puffed sleeves and waist gathers, and hoped that my messy low sidebun and yesterday’s mascara would manage to look sweetly tousled and not sloppy. I hadn’t planned on meeting him today.

When my plane landed at almost nine in the morning, I’d texted him excitedly. It was Thursday, and we weren’t scheduled to see each other until Saturday night. But when he said he was 20 minutes from the airport, I couldn’t resist. So I had curled into a chair at the local Starbucks and waited a few hours. Now, more than 2 days early, we were about to have our reunion. I hadn’t seen Alan in the flesh for eleven years.

Just as I stumbled toward the door, I heard a car honk and swing quickly (too quickly, I thought) into a closer parking space. He bounded out of the driver’s seat, tossed his cigarette to the side, and opened his arms.

“That’s quite an entrance,” I smiled. He seemed shorter somehow as I leaned into his bear hug, but otherwise, he was the same Alan.

The hostess sat us in a corner booth that could easily have held 6 people. Alan scooted around the first corner, and I sat demurely on the other side of the L. he was looking at me profile and I immediately wished I’d left my hair down so I could tilt the sheet of the left-hand side in front of my face. I was blushing.

He chuckled.
“What?”
“Can’t I just laugh?” he asked, “without telling you what about?”
“No,” I told him. But he didn’t answer. He flipped the menu away from him and said that he knew what he wanted. I got the feeling this was a regular restaurant of his. I chatted for a few moments.
“You’re nervous.” He noted.

“A little.” I confessed. “I didn’t expect it to be this way, and if you start making me think about all the stuff you know, I’m going to freeze up in a blushing fit,” I warned.

When the waitress came, he ordered guacamole and we each ordered lunch. He kept saying my name, my full name, over and over out loud when he’d look at me. Sometimes he’d chuckle to himself after he said it. Something about that was unnerving.

Finally, he asked me about the job I was interviewing for. I couldn’t believe that we hadn’t already talked about that, and told him so.

“I purposely didn’t ask you about a lot of things just so I’d have plenty to ask you about if you were nervous.” He countered. So he’d thought about this, planned what he’d ask me if I froze. I found this care and thoughtfulness endearing.

I launched with fervor into a description of the job, and then, into more about my life since high school. The last time we’d seen each other, he reminded me, I had (supposedly) broken his heart. He’d driven all the way up the coast to tell me he loved me, only to find that I was knee-deep in a love triangle the way only a seventeen year old can be. He never told me why he’d come until this last year. Alan was my summer camp sweetheart. We’d had on and off lust/obsession for most of our teenage years, only to lose touch completely after my eighteenth birthday.

Somewhere in the middle of one of my tirades, he scooted around my end of the L, and snuggled his arm around me. That felt right. I leaned easily into his shoulder, and lost my train of thought. There, pressed close, I remembered the way we’d always had intense, lusty chemistry. It was how we made the most sense, actually.

Something inside me melted, let go, and I found myself folding my arms on the table and resting my head there. Half hidden, I looked up at Alan sideways with a little smile. He traced my smile with his finger, and I closed my eyes.

“How many hours do you think we’ve spent like this?” he asked, as I drifted in that peaceful feeling his fingers were creating.

“A lot.” I murmured, soaking up the feeling of being petted. He moved his mouth in on my neck, next to my ear. His hot breath sent tingles up and down my spine. I wanted to pull away, but between the table and his head, there was no where to go.

“I wish I wasn’t so scrubby,” I complained. “I wanted to look all cute when I first saw you. I had plans.”

“I actually wouldn’t have liked it any better. This is how we know each other,” he reminded me. “This is how we spent time.” I relaxed a little bit then, realizing the truth in what he said. We were grubby campers most of the times we’d made out. I guess that meant it was ok to be a little plane-stale.

He was still at my ear, and chuckled low again.

“What?” I asked.
“Give me your hand,” he said. I placed my hand in his, and he took my hand, palm down, and pressed it into his (very hard) cock. “That,” he whispered. I loved his reaction, but I simultaneously felt trepidation. That was the first time I’d ever touched him there. I pulled my hand back after a moment.
We snuggled at the table until we got our check, with him occasionally leaning in close to kiss me on the neck or bite my earlobe. I was definitely enjoying his attentions, and followed him out to the parking lot, threatening to throw him against his car. He stopped then, leaning against a palm tree. I stepped into his embrace, and he tangled his hand in my messy bun, and exposed my neck to his mouth. I shivered and melted and panted in while he mouthed my neck, my ear. And when he came up for air, I pounced toward his mouth as if fifteen years had melted away.

The difference, though, was that he held back. He smiled at me patiently, “you’re not going to get your first kiss today.”

I sighed, part frustration, part arousal. “You would never have turned me down when we were kids,” I pouted. He laughed.

“You’ll have to wait, luv.” He looked so pleased with himself. I was actually pretty pleased with him, too. Maybe Alan had grown up into the kind of man I get wet for.
Actually, there was no maybe about the wet part, I noted, as I dripped my way back to the car.

Responses

  1. Slow, methodically casual, patient, teasing, chuckling, restrained – I like it; I think he has definitely grown into that kind of man.Lovely beginning lg.

  2. for me, you ambivalence comes across so clearly. but maybe that's because i already know the story. i'm glad that you've launched forward into posting the "dark and twisty" content. 🙂

  3. You're writing is like a really good book. I get all super into it, and then the entry ends. And I'm left here a bit stunned, wondering what's gonna happen.

  4. This is a long tease into what will follow. Intriguing!

  5. I can't wait to see where this goes…It does read like a good book! 🙂

  6. this is beautifully written. there's such a feeling of nostalgia. it's quite lovely.looking forward to reading more. 🙂

  7. thanks guys! all of these compliments on my writing are really sweet and make me smile. i'm humbled by your compliments. thank you!


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