Occurrence at a Fountain
Page 2
behavior was, but I was banking on the probability that these girls didn’t know either, and it just sounded like the kind of word a Jane Austen hero would use in this situation. So I went with it. Regardless, no one raised a challenge to my vocabulary. The girls just sat there, mouths open, gelato spoons frozen in whatever position they happened to be when I began talking.
“Uh…” stammered the ponytail girl, “I was just sayin’—”
“You were saying what you meant. You witnessed a beautiful human display taking place before you. The romance within your own soul was inspired, and you desired to experience the same for yourself. I heard your heart’s cry, and, being of the same romantic nature, my heart urged me to step forward.”
Oh, I was really laying it on here, but I was beyond the point of turning back. I stood and stepped right in front of her.
“You want to kiss at the fountain,” I summed up. “Well, there’s the fountain…and here I am.”
The girls began to giggle nervously.
“This is like so freakin’ weird,” the blonde babbled. She looked from side to side at her friends, apparently seeking some support. The friends just seemed amused.
“It would be weird,” I stated, “if I were asking for some type of lifelong commitment here and now. We’re not talking about something huge and life altering. I’m not even talking about getting to second base. We’re talking about something simple and lovely. Just a kiss.”
“Just go kiss him already!” playfully nudged a brunette seated on the ponytailed blonde’s right.
“You go kiss him!” protested the ponytailed girl.
“You’re the one who said you wanted to kiss!”
“I didn’t say I wanted to kiss him!”
A short girl at the end of the bench chimed in. “You didn’t say it couldn’t be him.”
The debate deteriorated into a cacophony of overlapping jibes and laughter.
“Ladies, ladies!” I raised my arms like a minister calling the congregation to prayer. “We live in a democracy. I say we put it to a vote of the population of this bench. All those who believe this girl should put up or shut up—i.e., those in favor of her kissing me, raise your hand.”
Three hands sprang up instantly. The ponytailed girl’s friends had cast their votes for dopey romance.
“You all suck!” the blonde exclaimed with mock mortification.
The friends cackled with giddy glee. The brunette started to chant. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
The other two friends joined in the merry repetition. The ponytailed girl bowed her head and clasped her palms over her eyes.
“I’d say it’s a landslide,” I commented with cavalier nonchalance. “May I escort you to the fountain?”
“You’re all a bunch of jerks!” giggled the girl at the center of it all. She was still playing the part of the resistant female, but, with her gal pals egging her on, she now also seemed to be having some fun. Her friends had given their stamp of approval, and I guess that made it all right to play along—at least a little bit. Now I just needed to get her to take the conclusive step and get off the bench. I wasn’t going to drag her. She had to want to do it. I was more than willing. At that moment in my life, I felt I could really use a kiss.
“We’re here now,” I said. “You, me, and the fountain. This is a moment in time that will never be repeated. This is our one opportunity to make it a moment we’ll always remember.”
“Oh, I’ll remember this!” she cackled, eyebrows raised.
“Let’s make it a special moment worth remembering.” I extended my hand toward her, palm upward, and waited.
She took a deep breath as though the wind had just been knocked out of her.
“Can I finish my gelato first?”
“No.” I spoke in a calm but authoritative voice. “Now is the time, dear lady.”
With a bewildered expression, she pointed at her cup of gelato as though dealing with its uneaten contents was an insurmountable obstacle.
“Here,” jumped in the brunette as she grabbed the blonde’s cup and scooped out in one spoonful the remainder of what was in it. “Here. One last mouthful and you’re done.”
It was a large amount of gelato on the plastic spoon, much more than I expect the blonde would have willingly taken on in one bite. However, after prodding the spoon a few times at the blonde’s lips, the brunette managed to get her to open her mouth and take it in.
“Now go kiss!” The brunette pushed to get the blonde off the bench.
The girl was still dealing with a mouthful of gelato as she rose to her feet and took my extended hand. She offered only her fingertips. A gesture of caution, I understood. I didn’t try to push for more. Instead, I led her in a gentlemanlike manner to the very edge of the fountain.
“You haven’t got a napkin, have ya?” She wiped her hand across her gelato sticky mouth.
“I think we’ll manage without one,” I said.
Her friends had abandoned their bench and were now just about ten feet away. One of them had a camera at the ready to record the moment.
“Shall we?” I asked as I positioned the blonde by her shoulders.
She didn’t answer, but she also didn’t pull away. On her face was a dopey grin. I took that as all the clearance I needed.
I inched my face toward hers. She shut her eyes, and her lips formed a receptive pucker. I closed my own eyes and went in for the target.
At first, her mouth felt cold. Not surprising. The girl had been eating frozen gelato. But the thing that did surprise me was that she didn’t recede after a quick peck. Instead, she stayed there, allowing her lips to warm against mine. Then I felt movement of her mouth, along with the subtle sucking that distinguishes a romantic smooch from a casual lip smack. This was the genuine article. We were really kissing.
The fervor of the moment made me brave. I placed my hands on the small of her back, just as I’d seen the young man do with his girlfriend a little while ago. And, to my amazement, I felt the blonde’s hands clasp behind my neck. It wasn’t the cautious grazing of fingers she had done earlier when I’d offered to escort her from the bench. This had the feel of an unfaltering, sensual touch. I don’t know if she was thinking of someone else while she did it, but I didn’t care. Why should I? The only thing that mattered then was that we were just like the young couple—engaged in a passionate kiss at the fountain. The only difference between us and them was that this girl and I were absolute strangers. We weren’t sharing love. However, the feelings that go along with romantic kissing are oh so very familiar and easy to succumb to, and I sensed, as we stood there at the fountain, we were both quite content to be experiencing those feelings, even if only for a very short time.
Her three friends cheered and hooted, and, if I’m not mistaken, I believe there were some other onlookers who applauded what I guess they thought was a passionate moment between lovers. Little did they know.
For that matter, little did I know. I knew next to nothing about that girl I was kissing. I never even learned her name. She never gave it, and I guess I didn’t feel at liberty to ask, since she never asked mine. I also don’t know whether she and her friends were locals or tourists like me. We never got around to basic get-to-know-you chitchat. Once the kiss was over—and perhaps it lasted a total of ten seconds, if that—we parted ways with cheerful goodbyes and little more. They went off in one direction, and I in another to return to my car and continue on my travels.
Years have passed since that day. My life has taken many turns, as is normal for anyone. Various women have come and gone in my life, and I like to believe they all had some impact on me, contributing toward making me the man I am today. I remember them all, even if I can’t recall every moment with them.
However, I truly believe that, even should I live to be one hundred twenty, I’ll never forget a special moment with a particular female. It was a fleeting but memorable one that occurred at a fountain one summer afternoon.
THE END
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Heartstrings
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