First Kiss

Okay – I had a dream the other night. Great dream! All about – well, let’s just say that I woke up smiling. I’m working on a poem about the dream – may be done over the weekend. Maybe not.
But the dream got me thinking/reminiscing. Do you remember your first kiss? I don’t mean that first lips-brush-or-almost-touch kiss. I mean, your first-skyrockets-in-flight kiss. I do. I was almost fifteen –
--hey, I started late. Made up for lost time. What can I say?

--I was almost fifteen……Lincoln Nebraska…….Hot summer night……..Brother’s best friend……

Susan and Jayne were sitting on the front step, enjoying the rare cool evening breeze.
“He’s so hot!”
“Shhhhh, Susan! He’s gonna hear you”
“So! He is so-o-o-o fine! I think you oughta kiss him,” Susan challenged, “Comeon! Dontcha even think about kissing him?”
“Think about it!?!?!?” Jayne thought to herself, “It’s ALL I think about.”
“How long was he at St. Francis Hone for Boys? Was he there the whole time your brother was?”
“Yes! Now shut up! He’s coming!”
Mike came around the corner of the house, all badboy swagger, guitar in hand.
“Hey, little foxes! What’s kicking?”
“Oh nothing,” replied Susan as she stood, “But I’ve gotta jet! I haveta babysit the demons down the street! Later, toothless-gator!”
Jayne gave their standard reply, “Yeah! ‘be wise, bubble-eyes!”
Jayne suddenly realized that Mike was still standing over her. “What about you, little fox? You gonna run home too? Or you wanna hang with me?”
Jayne felt an unfamiliar warmth spread from her ears to her toes. The blush left her unsteady as she rose to his challenge, and with all the breath and bravado she could muster she retorted, “Home! Silly boy! I’m already home – don’t gotta run nowheres! Where you gonna hang?’
The last gleam of the setting sun bounced off his blonde hair, and planted itself firmly in his left green eye. With a nod of his head he leaned in and whispered, “Going up to the schoolyard.” He leaned in a bit closer. “ Gonna finish that song I sang you.” He leaned in even closer. “Wanna go?” His mustached lips grazed Jayne’s cheek, and Jayne felt the color rise again. “How ‘bout it, little fox? Think you can hang?”
For the first and possibly only time, the quick retort eluded Jayne. “Um-hmm,” was all she could say.

The schoolyard was dimly lit. The Motocross boys were over in corner – jumping the stairs. Jayne was vaguely aware that a basketball game going on. She felt the bark of the tree scratching her back. But all she could hear was Mike, guitar, and the end of his song. “-But this is all I have to give.”
“Geez, Mike. That’s a beautiful song. Who’s it for?”
“Her name was Amanda. But I don’t want to talk about her.” Mike set the guitar down and lazed out on the ground, gazing upward, propped up on his elbows. “You’ve got the most amazing eyes.” He scooted closer, placing his head in Jayne’s lap. “What color are your eyes, anyway?” He brushed Jayne’s stray hair back in place, but left his hand in her hair, pulling her face closer, as if to see, “I thought they were blue – but in this light they look green” and he pulled her face even closer—
Jayne felt as if her heart were going to leap from her chest. He smelled like the woods – overwhelming and intoxicating all at once. “Holy shit,” she thought. “I think he’s going to kiss me! He’ll be able to tell that I’ve never—“
“Ah, I see little fox! They’re blue and green. Such dangerous eyes for such a young little fox—“
And Jayne felt the brush of his mustache just to the left of her lower lip. Instinctively she turned towards the tickle, and found her lips entwined with Mikes. His tongue ever so gently caressed first her upper, then her lower lip, and then cautiously ventured in.
Jayne’s heart was racing. It seemed that every spot on her face touched by his tongue was atingle and aquiver. She grew brave, sending her tongue into his mouth, tasting him. She no longer heard the bikes or the basketball, she only heard her heart racing. She no longer felt the tree behind her or the ground beneath. In fact, she found her hands in his hair and on his chest, pulling him closer because she felt like she was floating, knocked off her feet.
“Whoa, little fox. Where’d you learn to kiss like that? Your brother’ll kick my ass, this goes any further…”
Slowly standing up, Mike offered a hand to Jayne, as she stumbled. “Looks like you’re a bit dizzy—“
Jayne found enough breath to muster, “Musta been the kiss.”


postscript: No, this is not the same Mike I was married to. But, if I count this one, it means that I've had five (count them, 5) Mikes. I cannot date another Mike. Although I really do like the name....obviously....I just can't.