Wild Nights

by Therese Szymanski

  One Wild Night at Mills Creek

  Rae Kimball

  It was the summer after I graduated from high school, 1997. I was working in a small-town grocery store at the time, but in two short weeks I would be leaving for college. I couldn’t have been happier—nervous about leaving home but excited about the new possibilities (and women) that awaited me in a more liberal atmosphere. But all that seemed years away as I spent the last, muggy dog days of summer stocking shelves over the late shift.

  This week it was a double special on bottled water and jumbo Gatorade. I spent the better part of my shift loading and unloading carts and didn’t finish up until the store closed. It was hard work but I didn’t mind: I was in the best shape of my life. I paused for a moment to consider my reflection in a nearby window. Not bad, I thought inwardly. A summer of vigorous recreational soccer had left my 5’6” frame tanned and buff; my black store-issue pants were a little baggy but my crisp white polo went well with my deep tan. I bent down to tie my shoe and catch my breath for a second.

  “You cut your hair.” I felt soft fingers glide through my newly shorn hair and come to rest on the back of my neck. I didn’t need to look up to see who it was. Sarah. My heart was pounding. She was close enough that I could smell her perfume. I stood up but couldn’t meet her eyes: I was embarrassed. During a moment of insanity I had let my sister cut my shoulder-length brown hair. It was now just a few inches long, trimmed neatly around my collar. The guys in the back room had been teasing me all evening.

  “I know, it’s terrible,” I admitted, barely making eye contact.

  “No, I like it. It suits you,” she said appraisingly as she reached up to stroke the hair behind my left ear. I felt as though we were frozen in time—I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. The store lights dimming brought us out of this trance. She took a step back and ran a hand through her own hair. “They’re closing up,” she said, exhaustion in her voice. She looked tired . . . and beautiful.

  Sarah had only been working as a cashier at the store for a few months—I noticed her from the very start. Very petite, with waist-length brown hair, fair skin and beautiful green eyes, she was quiet, like me, but not as shy. If the store got busy and I was called up to bag groceries, I would make a beeline for her register. She was kind and seemed very innocent. I always felt a little ashamed that our encounters were so titillating to me. Every time she smiled at me my heart would pound; if our hands brushed against each other, my stomach would clench. I always assumed her kindness was platonic, but sometimes I had to wonder: was she flirting with me? Once she came around a customer’s cart and brushed against me in the narrow aisle.

  “Sorry,” she had whispered, looking up at me through long eyelashes.

  “No trouble,” I had mumbled, hoping no one could see the blush traveling across my face.

  “We should go,” she repeated. What? My mind shifted back to the present. I noticed the tired look on her face.

  “You look tired,” I said, stupidly, and immediately regretted my choice of words. “I mean . . .”

  She cut me off, laughing and pulled her hair back into a loose bun, exposing the delicate ivory skin of her neck. I’m sure my swallow was audible. “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?”

  I didn’t know what to say—she was looking at me with a glint in her eye and I was looking at her with my mouth hanging open.

  “You wanna get out of here?” she asked, a hint of challenge in her voice.

  “With you?” I asked, confused.

  “Yeah,” she answered, smiling.

  “Absolutely” was at last my response. It was the first intelligent thing I’d said in our entire conversation.

  I didn’t have a car and usually caught a ride home with someone from work; I assumed Sarah was, at least, offering me a ride home. I walked us out to her car, a beat-up ’82 Dodge Omni. Why is it that quiet, petite women always drive like bats out of hell? As we hurtled along the country road to my house, which was only a few miles away, I had a chance to look through the cassette tapes scattered about in Sarah’s car: the Indigo Girls, Melissa Etheridge, kd lang. It was almost too good to be true—literally: I liked Sarah a lot, and Lord knew I’d fantasized about her a thousand times since we met, but I had never dreamed I’d actually be in such close quarters with a real live lesbian who might have designs on me. I had no idea what was about to happen, but I knew it would be life-changing. I paused to consider the fact that I had been staring down Sarah’s opened blouse the entire ride home and that a hot moisture was beginning to pool between my legs. Maybe I did know what was about to happen.

  She pulled into my driveway and we sat across from each other in silence for a few minutes. The tension was palpable.

  “I don’t want to go home,” she said and I soon began to realize why she often looked so sad. She explained how she had graduated from high school the previous year and couldn’t afford to go to college. She was living at home and not getting along with her parents. Sarah was in the process of saving enough money to move to Seattle to start a new life; she had a cousin she could stay with there until she got on her feet.

  I nodded, empathizing with her. I was closeted and my parents had no idea—I was too afraid to tell them. Although I loved them very much, I was anxious to be “out” on my own.

  “You know I’m gay, right?” I surprised myself by asking. I knew one of us had to say it, otherwise we would have sat in that car for another ten years. She laughed again—she had a beautiful laugh.

  “It was very brave of you to say that,” she said. But I didn’t feel brave—it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to say.

  And then she attacked me. In a fraction of second, Sarah crossed the distance between us, grabbed my face in her hands, and placed a scorching kiss on my lips. She was ravenous—I felt like she was devouring me. After an initial moment of shock, I quickly reciprocated, wrapping my arms around her, leaning in close. She pulled away from me for a second.

  “Is this okay?” she asked, panting.

  “Absolutely.”

  Grinning, Sarah quickly released her seat belt, climbed over the gear shift and straddled me. She took my face in her hands and began kissing me as ferociously as before. I was still in shock, but that didn’t keep my hands from quickly trailing to her waist. Her shirt was raised slightly and my fingers found soft, white flesh. I let out a groan. This seemed to further excite her. She ran her hands through my hair, kissing my neck, my cheeks, and back to my mouth again. Sarah pressed her body close against me and we began to develop a steady rhythm. Her tongue was soon thrusting in and out of my ear and I heard myself moaning. The last thing I wanted to do was stop.

  “Sarah . . .” I tried to slow her thrusting. “Sarah . . .” I was not succeeding. “Oh God . . .”

  “Rae . . .” she said, pulling away slightly as her hands reached up and under my shirt, cupping my breasts through the sheer fabric of my bra. My nipples were erect.

  “Oh Jesus . . .” My eyes rolled back in my head before I snapped back into the moment. I managed to grab her wrists and pull them away from my breasts, but she continued to ride me, staring lustfully into my eyes. I was soaking wet and I’m sure she could tell.

  “We can’t do this here.” I said before I completely lost control of the situation. I may have been surprised when Sarah attacked me, but that didn’t mean I didn’t like it. Maybe we didn’t know each other that well, but as an eighteen-year-old virgin I was well past due for some sexual exploration—I just didn’t want to do it in my parents’ driveway. And I was far too excited. “I think I’m going to c . . .”

  She continued to thrust against me slowly. “Shhhh . . .” she said, placing a finger against my lips. “I know a place we can go . . . if you want.” She drew her finger down the front of my shirt to my pants. “I really need to be with you now . . .” she panted, cupping my mound in her hand, “ . . . and I think you need to be with me.”

  Moments later we were hurt
ling down another country road. It was dark out and I should have been frightened by the way she was driving, but I was otherwise occupied. Somehow during our previous embrace Sarah’s shirt had become unbuttoned. Fascinated, I reached between us and slid my hand onto her breast. Her nipple became instantly hard and she let out a short moan, but kept her hands on the wheel and her eyes on the road. I squeezed her nipple gently through the thin fabric of her bra. Nothing had ever felt so good. I reached my hand into her bra and cupped her breast roughly. She was panting heavily now, hips grinding into her seat, but she continued to drive. I was seized with a hunger I had never experienced before. I pulled her breast toward me and took it into my mouth, sucking hard. Sarah let out a shriek of what I hoped was ecstasy and pulled off into a rough-hewn parking area. Luckily, we had arrived at our destination: Mills Creek, an isolated recreational area on the edge of town. It wasn’t the Ritz Carlton, but it would do.

  Sarah kept her hands on the steering wheel and I continued to feast upon her perfect, round breast. When I stopped to look up at her, our faces were very close and I suddenly felt shy.

  “Hi,” she said, a nervous but hungry smile on her face.

  “Hi.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Is this your first time?”

  I nodded, keeping my eyes down. I hoped that my inexperience wasn’t obvious.

  She lifted my chin and looked into my eyes, “Well, I couldn’t tell—you’re doing great.”

  I smiled, elated that I had pleased her.

  “Do you want to do this?” she asked sincerely.

  Do what? I thought for a moment and realized that the answer would be “yes” to whatever she was asking. My clit was still throbbing from our previous embrace.

  I took her face in my hands this time and gave her a long, piercing kiss, and slowly began to thrust my tongue in and out of her mouth. We were both breathing hard when I broke away. “Does that answer your question?” I asked, my voice rough with desire.

  Sarah smiled and quickly exited the car, running around to my side. She opened my door, took my hand, and led me across the parking lot and down a hill to the recreational area on the edge of the lake. There was a large playground and a small stretch of beach. It was after hours and we were the only people there, but there was an element of danger in the air. A park ranger, or anyone else, could have stumbled upon us at any moment. For some reason, I didn’t care.

  We took off our socks and shoes and stood in the sand, staring out over the moonlit lake.

  “I’ve been thinking about you since the first moment we met.” Although she wasn’t looking at me, she must have sensed my surprise. “Haven’t you noticed how we always work the same shift? It’s no coincidence.”

  Finally, she turned and walked up to me, placing her palms against my chest. “I watch you all the time—so strong . . .” She ran her hands up and down my arms before cupping my butt roughly in her hands, “I especially like it when you bend over.”

  I may have been overwhelmed by the events of the evening but that didn’t stop me from taking her into my arms. I wanted to show her my strength so I lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around my waist. We kissed passionately, her hands in my hair, my hands gliding up under her shirt.

  I knelt and laid her back in the sand. Our hands were all over each other. She tried to pull my shirt off and I did it for her. She had her hands on my waist, trying to remove my belt while I fumbled with her blouse.

  “Rip it,” she groaned into my ear. I tore off her blouse and she, mercifully, removed her own bra. She was so beautiful, lying there in the moonlight, eyes hooded with desire. I began to panic a little because although I had imagined these moments a hundred times before, when it came down to it I wasn’t sure I knew what to do.

  I didn’t have to worry long. Strong for such a small girl, Sarah quickly flipped me onto my back. It was then that I was sure this wasn’t Sarah’s first time, but I didn’t care.

  She removed my bra, whispering “You are so beautiful.” I’m sure I was blushing. She began to blaze a trail with her mouth from my collarbone to my left breast kissing and stroking it with her tongue, before moving over to my right breast. This contact, along with her now thrusting hips, had me on the verge of orgasm.

  “Oh God . . . I need to . . .”

  “I’m going to take care of you right now,” she said.

  Sarah quickly removed my belt, unbuttoned my pants and slid them off. I was wearing boy-cut briefs and this seemed to be the right decision. Sarah let out a growl when she saw them, grabbing the waistband between her teeth. As she tugged them down my hips, the fabric dragged against my already throbbing clit. I did my best not to cry.

  She seemed to sense I was close, removed my briefs, and quickly laid back down between my legs. A second later my clit was in her mouth and I was on fire, coming harder than I had ever done before. She continued to lap at me, soaking up everything I had to give. I exploded in another orgasm.

  She stopped short and looked up at me. “Did you just . . . ?”

  I was a little embarrassed. “Yeah.”

  “Can you always?”

  “Usually. Quite a few anyway.” I thought everyone could.

  She paused and considered me thoughtfully before dipping her head down to run her tongue along the length of my clitoris. I let out a moan.

  “How many is few?” she asked. “I mean, what’s the most you’ve ever had?”

  I thought for a moment. She didn’t seem bothered by the fact that I could have multiple orgasms, so I decided honesty would be the best policy.

  “I think the most I’ve ever had in one sitting was nine,” I tried to say casually.

  It was Sarah’s turn to moan this time. “Girl, am I going to have fun with you.”

  I almost came again when she said the words.

  Sarah feasted on me for the next twenty minutes and I came more times than I can remember. Sometimes my heels were thrust into the sand and my hands in her hair, urging her deeper. Other times my legs were over her shoulders or spread wide by her insistent hands, my hands tearing at my own breasts.

  By the time she was done, I lay in the sand a quivering mess. I thought I may have been dead. “Thank you,” was all I could say.

  She crawled up to lay on top of me. “You tasted so good,” she said, kissing me on the lips. I was relieved to know that although it hadn’t occurred to me at the time. With Sarah kissing my face and pressing her thigh between mine, it didn’t take me long to come back to life.

  “Show me what to do,” I said, kissing her.

  She grinned and stood up before me. I was completely naked, but she was still wearing pants. She slowly undid them and lowered them to the ground. I remember the wind blowing through her long hair and the way the moonlight illuminated her pale skin. I sat up and reached for the waistband of her panties, pulling them slowly down her legs. I could smell her and see the moisture glimmering on the insides of her thighs: my clit began the throb again.

  She pushed me gently back onto the sand and laid on top of me, straddling my thigh. The contact was exquisite. She began to rub herself along the length of my body. I could feel her wetness. She placed her arms in the sand above my shoulders and I took her breasts in both hands and into my mouth. She began to moan loudly as we developed a steady rhythm.

  Again, she surprised me by quickly flipping us over so that I was on top of her. We maintained our rhythm and she took my hands in hers and placed them over her head. I understood what she meant for me to do and, with light pressure, held her hands back with mine.

  “Oh yes . . .” she said. “Use your fingers . . .”

  I continued to hold Sarah’s wrists over her head with my left hand as I brought my right hand down between us. Although I had never touched another woman in this way before, I had touched myself and instinctively knew what to do.

  Sarah was very wet and I was glad to know I had such an effect on her. I slid my fingers lig
htly up and down the shaft of her clitoris. I loved the feel of her wetness gliding between my fingers. She was moaning, almost crying it seemed, and her eyes were shut tight. For a moment, I thought she was in pain.

  “More . . . faster . . .” she said. I increased my pace as Sarah began to thrash about in the sand. I did my best to keep her wrists held down. My fingers drifted tentatively to her center and I looked into her eyes. “Yes . . . now . . .” she said, begging.

  I entered her easily with two fingers while maintaining the thrusting of my hips. Sarah’s entire body began to buck and she was soon screaming—it seemed to go on forever. As soon as her body stilled, I slipped out of her and quickly climbed up to lay beside her.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m great, thanks.” She was smiling.

  “Anything else I can do for you?” I asked, hopefully.

  “I’d love to but I think we both need to get home.”

  I wanted to do more, but I realized that my parents would already be furious that I was so late and didn’t call. I also didn’t relish the idea of getting Sarah in trouble with her own parents.

  We managed to locate our clothes, dress and wipe off as much of the sand as we could. Sarah found a spare shirt in her car to replace the one I’d torn. We were silent most of the way home, but we held hands. Sarah drove at a reasonable speed and I was reluctant to leave her.

  I didn’t know at the time that night would be the first and last time I’d ever make love to Sarah. We talked about it the next day, sitting next to each other in my parents’ driveway after our shift. She knew I was leaving for college upstate in two weeks, and I knew that she had plans to move across the country in the near future.

  I was drawn to her even then, and had to resist the temptation to reach over and kiss her; I could tell that she was struggling too. In the end, we decided to remain friends, but not see each other anymore, not wanting to risk the temptation of further, more emotional contact.