The Fourth Summer. Kathleen Gilles Seidel

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СКАЧАТЬ afford a beat-up junker, a parking space is way out of reach. Why are you asking?”

      “I keep noticing how strong your legs are. Isn’t San Francisco pretty hilly?”

      “For sure. We all have gorgeous butts out there because we walk up and down hills all day.”

      How normal this felt, standing close to her, his hands on her waist. “You don’t really care that I saw your underwear, do you?”

      “Of course not.”

      He kept his hands at her waist. “It’s really good to see you again.”

      “Same here.”

      Were they going to play games? When they had been kids, she had promised that she wouldn’t do that. She had said she would be straight with him when she was ready. And she had been.

      She put her hands on his shoulders. He could feel the weight of her big watch. “I’d like us to be friends,” he said.

      She knew what he was asking. “With benefits?”

      “If that works for you.”

      “It works for me,” she said. Her hands started to move, caressing his shoulders.

      He bent his head and kissed her.

      And suddenly it was like being a boy again, that fierce magic, that ache, that overwhelming sense of desire, to smell the magic of her hair, feel the firmness of her arms, the trim curve of her waist and back, his fingers seeking the softness of her breast.

      He felt her hand on the hand of his neck, her fingers separated and moving slowly. Her other arm was curved around him, and it was as if no woman had ever touched him before, as if it was all as new as it had been back when they had been in the woods together before.

      “Do you want to go inside?” he whispered.

      She shook her head. “We have the blanket.”

      He took her hand and led her back among the trees. These trees were all younger than the oak, and their roots had dug deep into the light, sandy soil, leaving the earth smooth. He kicked aside a few pinecones, unfurled the blanket, and let it float to the ground. Then he unzipped her skirt and pushed it down over her hips. Her red bikini underpants weren’t designed to be sexy. They didn’t have lace or skimpy strings at the sides, but they curved under her crotch with a snug, neat fit. As soon as they were lying down, he put his hand over the curve, and he could feel the warmth there and then all through her.

      He knew that it would be all right to slip the panties off, open his khakis, and enter her now. She was ready. But then it would be over. And he didn’t want it to be over.

      Or so matter-of-fact. You wanna have sex? This ought to mean something. Things didn’t mean enough anymore.

      She was reaching for his zipper. He batted her hand away and sat up, pulling her with him so that she was straddling him, facing him. “Do you remember the first time you came?” This was how they had been that night, when they were sixteen and fifteen, her facing him, her knees on either side of him.

      “I guess...yes, yes, of course, I do.”

      They had already had intercourse, but they had never had enough privacy to be fully undressed together, and he still hadn’t been comfortable with her body. He hadn’t known any specific ways to stimulate her, and so when it did happen for her, it was almost by accident.

      He had been kissing the upper curve of her breast that night, and then she had shifted a bit—maybe by accident, maybe on purpose—and suddenly he was feeling the little firm tip of her nipple against his tongue, and her hands dug into his hair, supporting herself, and she moved against him.

      She had probably been wearing a T-shirt that night; she would have pulled it off over her head by herself. Tonight he unbuttoned her blouse. Her bra was flesh colored, lacier than her panties had been, but not matching them. When she had dressed this morning, this was not what she had expected.

      He unhooked the bra...and then was suddenly confused. How had this worked back then? Her pressing her crotch against him, and him being able to—

      Oh, right, of course. Even though he had started his growth spurt then, he hadn’t been finished. He had kept growing; he was taller now than he had been on that summer night so long ago. But he could make this work. His back was flexible and strong, and he was comfortable grasping her hips, bringing her closer to him, positioning her in a way that he wouldn’t have had the nerve back then.

      An instant later he was both a boy again, arousing a girl for the first time, and a man, sure and confident, cupping the breast he was kissing while teasing the other with his free hand.

      Was all this happening then or now? Both. The blanket was green wool; it was blue fleece. The afternoon sun was on his face; it was at his back. Her hair was pulled back; it was tumbling over her shoulders. She smelled like Dove soap; she smelled like grapefruit and lime. Both moments, then and now, happening as one.

      Just as before, her fingers nestled into his hair, gripping his head, relying on him for support and balance. But she was experienced too, and in a moment she let go of his head, pulled back, and started to search for his zipper again. She wouldn’t have done that back then.

      “No, no,” he said. “Let’s do it like before.”

      So she relaxed into the glories of being pleased. Last time she had been able to move against his body. Now because of his height she had to kneel, but only the lightest flick of his fingers against her still scarlet-covered crotch left her gasping and her muscles convulsing.

      Afterward she leaned against him, settling back on his thighs.

      “What was that all about?” she asked.

      “I don’t know for sure.” It had been almost eerie, the feeling of two things happening at once, but she couldn’t have been talking about that. “It just suddenly seemed like a good idea to do what we had done before.”

      “It’s hard to believe that it was exactly like that.” There was a smile in her voice. “Surely you weren’t that good as a kid.”

      “No, but I was shorter and that made it easier.”

      “Okay.” She didn’t get it. Obviously she hadn’t been thinking about the logistical difficulties. “But I’ve learned some things too,” she said.

      And she had; of course she had. He had a fleeting thought about other men, other penises, but it was pretty easy to let that go because what she was doing to him was...well, it was pretty hard to think anything.

      They lay quietly for a bit. Then she rolled to her side, facing him. “You know, I don’t think I have had sex outdoors with anyone but you.”

      He thought for a moment. “I haven’t either...but I spend a lot of time in the snow, so outdoor sex might not be a great choice.”

      “Are you in a relationship?”

      “No.” What did she think of him, that he would have done this, if he were seeing someone? “What about you?”

      “I live in San Francisco. СКАЧАТЬ