Leaning In

How do you kiss someone?

       How do you kiss someone?   Romantically, as when Gene Kelly slides a hand around Debbie Reynold’s waist?  He pulls her close.  Her silk scarf dances with the wind.  Orchestrated music builds to a crescendo.  And, as their lips meet, she melts into his body.  Or is it a more agonizingly drawn-out and passionate Tom Cruise/Kelly McGillis kiss in the shadows of moonlight?  Kelly against a wall. Tom barely touches her except to trace the collar of her shirt.  He takes her breath away as he yields his lips to her neck. Then the camera zooms in to witness as their lips unite and tongues touch ever briefly before clothes fall in heaps to the floor.

            Maybe it's stolen spontaneity during a moment when the woman is talking about something mundane and the man isn’t listening to a word she’s saying except to watch the way she forms syllables and smiles at the end of each sentence.  Then without warning he steals a kiss, to quiet her as well as see how she’ll react.  A prelude to something more. 

            Do you hold hands?  Who moves in first?  And afterwards what the hell do you say? 

            As I sat in the bed of Jake's yellow El Camino that summer night, I suppose I over-thought the moment.  My back was getting sore as it rested against the wheel well, my knees bent and fingers busy with a straw wrapper I found. 

        The movie had finished over an hour ago and we laughed and discussed all of our favorite scenes and jeered at what we didn’t like.  Other than making a joke of the people in the third row who the manager had to escort away, any small talk dulled to a mere uncomfortable nod when the other person had finished speaking.                

        Silence lay heavy in the air for quite a while.  Sure, the stars were in full dress whites and once in a while a satellite gave us a thrill as it sailed over the black velvet canvas.  But I knew it was coming; the inevitable moment inside of one of the three kissing preferences on which I was switching back and forth in my mind.  I just didn't know when.  All I did know was that with a slight nip to the air, no way was I going to jump the shark of the perfect set-up to ask for my sweater inside the car.  So, I shivered and Jake moved closer, slipping his arm around my shoulders.  I couldn't believe it worked.

            “You okay?” he asked.

            I don’t recall if I said yes or no.  I was engrossed in how the glow of the moon lit half of his face and made his chestnut eyes sparkle.  Do it, I kept thinking.  This is the moment. One of us has to do it. Do it before you lose your nerve from the embarrassment of the circles of perspiration alone forming on your blouse.  Do it.

            God, he smelled delicious.  I looked down at his hand on my shoulder, admiring the contours of his fingers and wondered how I felt to him under his touch.  I straightened one leg and moved it so that it barely put weight against his Levi’s.  He reacted exactly how I wished by leaning his leg stronger against mine.  My heart skipped a beat. 

         Now what?  

         The hard steel bed of the El Camino was starting to hurt and, though I didn’t want to, I needed to shift or risk a numb behind.  So I sat up, stealing a moment to stretch and afterwards place my hand on his upper thigh, throwing him a glance over my shoulder.  Gutsy of me I know, but in doing that I noticed his shirt pulsing from the intensity of his heart so I knew he was feeling the same: nervous as hell.

            “What time do you need to be home?” he asked.

            I squinted my eyes through the back window at the digital on his dash.  “I don’t need to be at work until nine and my room mate knows I’ll be late.  You?”

            “You’re lucky.  Remember, I live in my parents’ garage so they’ll hear me pull up.  I shouldn’t stay out much longer.”

            Was he kidding?  My heart sank.  I was never as ready for anything as I was right then and feared I'd die never knowing.  “C’mon, we're adults.”  I nudged him coyly.  “You don’t think they know you’ll be out late?  Seriously, are you a man or a mouse?”   

            He stared at the bed of the truck.  Nodding.  Not saying a word.  I started to worry that he didn't understand it was a rhetorical question.  Then I watched as his hand left its pocket and reached for the one I placed on his thigh.  He regarded me through long dark eyelashes.  And after a few seconds, I swear, he bore directly into my soul and saw every impure thought that had crept in since we had parked.  A brick dropped inside my stomach.  This was it.  No turning back. Jake leaned in but I couldn’t look away from those eyes.  Wondering if he liked what they were seeing and exactly what thoughts he entertained behind them.

            His lips were gentle and he wove his fingers into mine through a kiss that lasted forever, but I’m sure was barely twelve seconds, thirteen tops.   He moved with purpose and led my arms around him.  I tried to relax but it was hard.  I think every synapse in my brain was firing for us both.  I pressed my lips firmer and slid my hands along his back.

            He quivered and pulled away slightly.  “Sorry,” he said.  “Ticklish.  But don’t stop.”

            This time I leaned in and decided on the agonizing/drawn-out/passionate moment of a more indecent lip embrace.  I had control.  My lips explored his, drawing my face away at times to look in his eyes.  When I shared the tip of my tongue once or twice, he began to tremble.  I liked how my hands rose and fell with each of his labored breaths and couldn't help but feel somewhat powerful when he leaned in for more.  I wanted to be the book that he couldn't put down.  The words that propelled him to keep turning pages because so much reading had been invested that he had to find out how it ends. 

            “Why are you grinning?” he whispered.

            I leaned in and exhaled warmly on his neck.  Parted my lips slightly with every touch.  Stole a taste with my tongue.  He brought his chin up as the collar of his shirt grew near and I peeled it away.  Pausing to catch my breath.  Letting the moment simmer.  His carotid artery pulsed like it was ready to explode.

            How alluring it was to switch between the throes of a passionate kiss and a softer one if only for his reaction.  As though the moment needed a full stop, we pulled away like opposite ends of a magnet and, with our torsos pitching from adrenaline overload, roamed each other’s face; every dimple, every freckle with our eyes.

            “Maybe we should go,” I said.  “I wouldn't want you to get in trouble with your parents.”

            “Oh, my God.  Screw the time.  I’ll deal with it tomorrow."

            In one clever movement, with the strength of He-man, Jake pressed a hand on the small of my back and laid me down, reclining on his elbow beside me.  I raised my arms above my head, surrendering to him. 

            Then placidly, and with dexterity I envied, he unbuttoned my blouse with one hand.  I arched my back slightly.  My skin immediately abundant with chills.  One corner of his mouth smiled just before his lips compressed against mine.  I wasn’t sure I liked that, given my competitive nature.  That is, until I melted beneath his hand as it brushed my blouse away softly and skimmed my bare waist as though reading Braille.  I followed suit and gently lifted the back of his shirt, caressing his skin. 

            Again he quivered at my touch.  “Don’t stop,” he whispered in my ear.

            “Don’t worry.”           

            Resting a leg on mine, he pulled it to him with his knee, as though holding it captive.  While his hand explored the lace on my bra, I allowed my fingernails a chance to skate across his back, his own abundant chills lying helpless in their wake.  I glided over sensual muscle tone and spent a moment feeling the dip of each rib, grazing finally to the part of his chest I could reach.  Then let my hand sit idle.

            I pressed my elbow against his side as though it were a boot with spurs, urging my horse to go.  Go.  Jake read the queue perfectly and this time I wasn’t sure whose ardent tongue was whose.  Among other things, I learned the meaning of ravenous that night.

         It’s a blur now to consider how long we were fine with appreciating our touch before clothing began to slide away.  Minutes unified with minutes, unabated, as did we.  I recall thinking how curious it was that a body can perspire so much just by moving slightly in rhythm with another.

            How do you kiss someone?  The answer dwells not in the kiss itself, nor in the prominent moment of passion.  It’s in wondering what each second of ecstasy does to someone as you lean in and feel them come alive inside.