by Libby Austin
“Brandon.” The soft way Layna said my name provided me the strength to raise my head to meet her gaze. When my eyes met hers, I saw they were filled with as much torment as I felt, and my breath caught as the realization that she wanted me as much as I wanted her registered in my desire-laden mind.
I don’t know which of us moved first, but our mouths crashed together awkwardly as I raised my hands to cradle her jaw. I had never kissed a woman in my adult life, so to say I was out of practice was the height of understatement. But I was good at following Layna’s lead—I was a backup guy after all—until I was able to find a rhythm. I slid my hands into the thick curls I’d just helped create. A half groan, half moan escaped me as I felt hands on me in such an intimate way for the first time. That they were Layna’s hands was the best part of the contact.
My eyes popped open as Layna withdrew from me. Sadness that the moment was over filled me. She hesitated for an instant before she positioned her body to face me, her legs straddling mine, with enough space between us that she wasn’t pressed against me. This time, when my mouth took possession of hers, I had a lot more finesse. I don’t know if everyone felt this way, but I couldn’t imagine that anyone had ever felt what I was experiencing with Layna in my arms. If they had, they wouldn’t have been able to do anything but stay there. I wanted to live in that moment with Layna.
MY SHOULDER HURTING WOKE ME from the most restful sleep I could remember having in years. As I went to move my shoulder and stretch it to work out the kink, it dawned on me that there was someone lying on it.
Layna.
My eyes flew open and were filled with the sight of Layna pressed against me as we lay entwined on the couch, which wasn’t nearly as comfortable to sleep on as it was to sit on. Pressing my face to the top of Layna’s head, I inhaled, and the realization that the weight that usually resided in my chest wasn’t as heavy caused me to smile. As I thought back to last night, my smile grew broader.
By most people’s standards, the kisses we shared were tame, innocent even. Our hands hadn’t even wandered further than just holding each other. First base territory. I couldn’t wait to do it again. But since the sun was just barely lighting the sky, I figured it was better to let my girl sleep. I didn’t want her first-thing-in-the-morning alter ego to appear, so I did my best to relax and adjust my shoulder a little, settling in to relish the time holding Layna in my arms.
When someone moving woke me the next time, sunlight filled the sky. A smile filled my face until I felt Layna stiffen, and fear that she regretted last night raced through me, causing my smile to wane.
After an eternity, Layna looked up at me and said, “Good morning.” I’d seen her shy smile last night; it wasn’t the usual confident grin she wore, so it made it all the more precious. My body relaxed with the realization she was probably just as unsure about last night as I was in the light of the morning.
I grinned and returned her good morning as my hands drew her closer to me so I could greet her properly. When she turned her head, I was confused again. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” she said.
“I don’t give a shit. Part of the appeal of laying in the same position with my shoulder and arm numb, other than feeling you against me, is getting to kiss you good morning,” I told her honestly.
“Why didn’t you ask me to move?”
“Because I liked you where you were. Now, I would like my reward for being your comfy pillow,” I informed her and leaned up to capture her lips in mine.
Kissing her was just as good as I remembered it, and I could have kept at it for hours, but my stomach growling broke the moment. “Sorry,” I apologized as I pulled away, “I’m a growing boy.” That comment by itself would have been innocent. Unfortunately, I didn’t think ahead, and I moved to adjust my back, resulting in me grinding my very hard dick against her leg. If possible, her eyes got bigger, and I started trying to explain. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just had a knot in my back and I was stretching. I didn’t mean to rub my—self on you.” As usual around her, I couldn’t control the words tumbling out of my mouth. I tried to continue to explain myself when she interrupted my verbal spewing.
She pressed a finger to my lips. “Brandon, it’s okay. I’m familiar with how the male body works. Now, let’s forget about the awkward moment and concentrate on breakfast.”
“Sounds good. Where do you want to go grab a bite?”
“How about we have breakfast here? I can make French toast,” she offered. “I want to rest my foot. Last night was fun, but walking and standing so much with the robo-boot made my leg a little sore, so I want to take it easy. If that’s okay with you.”
“Sounds great. Do I have time to go take a quick shower? I’m pretty sure I have the remnants of toast and God knows what else in my hair.”
“Sure. I’ll probably do the same.”
Visions of a wet and slippery Layna filled my imagination and did nothing to help the growing boy situation, so I looked for a distraction. “Robo-boot?” I asked with a laugh.
“Yeah,” Layna said with a laugh as she sat up. “I feel like RoboCop or a partial Iron Man that got ripped off. Believe it or not, it’s heavy when you aren’t used to it. I think the cast felt lighter because I didn’t walk with it as much, but at least it’s gone.”
“Take the small victories.”
“Yep, doesn’t mean I like the ugly thing any better. Now, get going so we can get you fed before you faint from hunger.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said as I stood up and leaned over to give her a kiss. It was shocking how natural it felt to do something I couldn’t contemplate doing just a couple of weeks ago. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Leave the door unlocked on your way out in case I’m in the shower when you get back,” she called after me, and I groaned at the imagery of her in the shower.
“You need to learn your code,” I called over my shoulder.
My shower didn’t take long, but I did take the time to shave. Layna hadn’t complained, but I wanted to be considerate.
On my way through the condo, I made two stops. The first was in a spare room I’d used to store my art supplies, which had sat unused for years, to grab a few things, including my laptop, for a surprise for Layna. The second was to grab a movie to watch while I worked on the surprise.
When I got back to Layna’s, she wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room, so I figured while she was in the shower I could do a little research. A quick search of the Internet gave me what I needed, so I saved it and closed the laptop.
At a loss for something to do in the meantime, I decided to start getting breakfast ready. I was pulling out the griddle when Layna walked into the kitchen. “Thought I could help by getting stuff ready. That way you don’t have to walk as much,” I explained. “I don’t cook much beyond the basics, so I wasn’t sure what you needed. But if you tell me what you need and where it is, I’ll get it for you.”
If I had been a less confident man, I would have been put off by her chuckling at my rambling, but I took the fact that she let me pull her into an embrace when she walked close enough that I could reach her as reassurance that she found it endearing.
We spent the next hour or so making and eating breakfast. Our conversation was light and bounced randomly from topic to topic. When we were done, I told her to get comfortable while I took care of the dishes. There weren’t many, and all I did was load the dishwasher and wipe off the counter.
Walking out of the kitchen, carrying the movie, I sat on the coffee table in front of her. “I get to pick today’s entertainment,” I said, holding up the movie.
“This Is Spinal Tap,” she read. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“I watched The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” I reminded her of our previous night’s entertainment, in case she’d forgotten.
“I wasn’t saying I wouldn’t watch it. I’ve just never heard of it.”
“Good. While you’re watching it, I’ll be working on a surprise for y
ou. I’m going to need the robo-boot.”
“You’re leaving?” she asked. The disappointment in her voice made me feel giddy.
“No, I’m just going to sit over at the table where you can’t see. And you have to promise not to peek.”
“Can I have a hint?”
“Nope.”
“Can I guess and you say hot or cold?”
“Cute,” I tapped her nose, “but no. Turnabout is fair play. Now hand over robo-boot, and I’ll put the movie in.”
I put the movie in the player and made sure she was comfortable before I made my way over to the table to begin my project. After getting all of my supplies in order, I opened my laptop to the picture I’d found.
Even though I was concentrating on the task at hand, I stayed attuned to Layna. About halfway through the movie, she said, “I don’t get how they could be so successful and be so inept.”
I couldn’t help laughing at her observation. She turned to look at me. “Turn back around. You can’t look yet,” I told her as I pointed to the TV. “It’s a mockumentary. They aren’t a real band,” I explained, relaying the concept of the movie.
“Oh,” she said. “That makes way more sense now.” And from there she started to laugh at the band’s antics.
“Can I look yet?” she asked when the movie ended.
“No, but you can pick the next movie,” I offered as a consolation prize.
“I know just the one. I don’t even have to get up,” she informed me.
When the familiar opening credits began, I looked up to confirm what I was hearing. “Really? Again? You just saw it last night.”
“Yes, really. You can never have too much Rocky Horror,” she declared. I couldn’t see her face, but I was certain she was being serious.
By the time the movie ended, I was sitting on the couch with Layna. She was cuddled to my side with her head resting on my shoulder. My arm lay across her back, and my fingers lazily swept up and down her side.
Layna sat up and rubbed her hands together, a big smile on her face. “Do I get to see my surprise now?”
It had been sitting for about an hour, so I was sure it would be dry enough. “Yes, but you have to close your eyes,” I instructed her, and she closed her eyes tightly, scrunching her face up and puffing out her cheeks. “You don’t have to hold your breath, too,” I told her with a laugh as I stood up.
“I was doing that so you would hurry,” she retorted, making me laugh harder.
I grabbed the boot and said, “Keep your eyes closed,” as I walked back around the couch and sat on the ottoman. Checking to make sure her eyes were closed, I placed the open boot on my lap, then placed her foot in it and tightened the straps. Taking a deep breath, I said, “Okay, you can look now.”
Nervous about her reaction, I kept my eyes down. I’d never shared my art with anyone who meant anything to me before. I wanted to ask her if she liked it, but the insecure part of me held me back.
“Brandon,” she said softly. I liked that she called me Brandon. Her hand clasped mine and she shook my arm a little. “Hey, look at me.” Cautiously, I raised my eyes to look at her. “It’s beautiful. I can’t believe you painted robo-boot. I’ll never be able to part with it now. I wonder what people will think when I put it on my mantle,” she mused.
“You don’t have to keep it. It’s not really anything. More of a doodle. I just noticed you never had anybody sign your cast or anything. They’re apricot blossoms. I thought they were fitting,” I said, trying not to let it show how much her enjoyment meant.
“No, Brandon, it’s more than a doodle. I can’t remember the last time anyone has done something so thoughtful for me. It’s beautiful.”
“If this is the most thoughtful thing someone has done for you in so long you can’t remember, you’ve been hanging out with the wrong people,” I said in an attempt to bring some levity to what was becoming a heavy conversation.
“Well, I like the company I’m keeping right now,” she said with a smile.
“Me too,” I said, agreeing with her. “I mean, I like hanging out with you too, and I’m glad you like hanging out with me—”
“Brandon,” she spoke over me.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice cracking.
“Shut up and kiss me.”
That was an idea I was fully onboard with, and I enthusiastically obliged her request.
MOST PEOPLE WOULD HAVE BEEN shocked to learn that I had never kissed a woman in my adult life until last night. In spite of the experience with Layna the night before and sleeping with her next to me, I was nervous and hesitant as I cradled her in my arms. Reading the cues of Layna’s body as she arched closer to me, my body said I could hold her tighter while my brain said to take it slow. As much as I desired her, I wanted to treasure her. I wanted to respect her and the gift she was giving me, because it so far beyond a physical act for me.
With each kiss we shared, it was as if she were breathing life back into the hollow spaces where my will to live had died along with so many hopes and dreams. Fledgling little hopes and dreams began to take form within me. My body felt almost as if it would burst from all of the sensations converging inside. Singularly, each new experience would have been a lot to handle. All together they were overwhelming. Whether or not that was good or bad, I wasn’t certain. The closest thing I could compare to what I was feeling would have been when someone becomes manic and all the things they’re feeling and the energy inside them needs to escape. But that explanation was too simplistic because it didn’t come close to describing the struggle of someone who was manic, and it damn sure didn’t convey what was going on inside of me.
No matter how much I was enjoying being close to Layna, there was a small voice reminding me of my past. For once I wanted to forget my past and live in the happiness of the present. Barrett said I deserved happiness. If he claimed it was so, who was I to say otherwise? He’d suffered the harshest consequences in the fallout from my folly.
And, God, was I enjoying my present situation. My limited experience with the opposite sex as a teenager didn’t hold a candle to the woman I currently held. Intrinsically I knew this was because the woman I was holding was Layna. No one else could elicit this kind of response from me. More than one woman has tried over the years, and a few guys, too, until they figured out the rumors as to why I declined female company weren’t true.
Turning them away hadn’t been difficult for me. Not only hadn’t I been interested in casual sex, I hadn’t cared to get to know any of them. I’d been so certain that I was doing the right thing by keeping myself isolated. I cared about people. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, and I’d do most anything for the guys, but Layna was different.
I wanted to take care of her. I wanted to help her. I wanted to support her. I wanted to make her smile. I wanted to hold her when she cried. I wanted to be there when she laughed. I wanted to hold her so close you couldn’t tell where one of us ended and the other began.
My previous physical displays had been spur of the moment impulses. Now that I’d made the conscious decision that being with Layna was what I wanted, the rest could be worried about later. Decision made, I twisted until I could lie back on the couch, bringing Layna with me. Without breaking the connection between our mouths, it took a few adjustments to get our bodies aligned. I was anything but smooth and practiced in my movements. If I had been more clearheaded, I would have worried about how amateurish my advances were, but as it was, all I worried about was touching Layna and her touching me, which she did with the softest of caresses, almost as if she were afraid of startling me.
I hadn’t thought far enough ahead to consider exactly how well aligned our bodies would be when I stretched out on the couch. Slowly my hand glided from its resting place just above her hip, over the silky fabric of her dress, before coming to rest on the curve of her ass. God, it felt even better than it looked. Fingers clutched at her through the thin material of her dress, and her hips pressed forward, grinding into my
hardness. A moan escaped my lips at the contact. Barrett had teased me about coming prematurely when I was sixteen, and I was dangerously close to repeating that embarrassing incident thirteen years later.
At my moan, Layna pulled away. “Sorry,” she apologized, and my eyes popped open. I didn’t want to come just yet, but I didn’t want to stop either. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Shaking my head, I rushed to reassure her. “You didn’t hurt me, but,” I hesitated because I wasn’t sure how to say what I wanted to express, or even what exactly I wanted in the first place. Uncertainty caused me to turn my head so she couldn’t see.
Layna sat up and moved to sit beside me. I opened my mouth to protest when she leaned forward, bracing herself so her upper body lay across my chest. She gently turned my head back to face her. “You can tell me anything, Brandon.”
Swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat, I began, “It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a girl, and—”
“I’m a woman,” she said with a small smile. It was her attempt to use humor to make me less tense, but it had the opposite effect.
Looking down, I confessed, “I’ve never been with a woman.” Then my eyes snapped up and I rushed to add, “I’m not into guys.”
She smiled again. “I didn’t think you were.”
“Good. Not that I have a problem with gay people, ‘cause I don’t. I just didn’t want you to think I hadn’t been with a woman because I was confused by my sexual identity or something like that—”
“Brandon,” she said, and I stopped talking. “Breathe.”
I drew in a deep breath and let it out, putting into practice the technique I had been taught many years ago.
“How long has it been since you were intimate with someone?” she asked.
“Thirteen years.”
“Let me clarify so we’re on the same page. How long has it been since you had sex?”
I broke eye contact again. I didn’t want her to see me as less of a man. In the past, I had never paid attention to the pressure of sex, but now it was painfully obvious I was out of my depth. I was a man in the sense I was responsible, I took care of myself, I supported myself and was self-reliant. But when it came to an intimate relationship—or even a personal relationship—with a woman, I was stuck with the experience of a sixteen-year-old.
