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Kris By Dirty Dawg. Basic male/female love story
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
"Kris" m/f love/romance
"Kris"
By Dirty Dawg
Basic male/female love story. Should not be offensive to many, except
those extreme perverts (of which I am one!) on a.s.s that expect
all various and sundry twists. Sorry, gang..no midget clown yak
herders in this story...
But enjoy just the same!
It was a fine summer evening, a Friday. The sun
still had two more hours of hang-around time, and the gentle
breeze wafting in from the west filled the air with the
scents of summer...cut grass and honeysuckle. The radar unit
sitting on the dash of my patrol car showed a steady "00" as
no one was using County Route 2, my assigned post for
violators duty. Write tickets, they told me. Lots of them.
So I sat here and waited. On most days, I could write three
tickets an hour, and that kept my sergeant happy. Friday
nights, though, this road was quiet, because it led further
up county, in the opposite direction of the city where
everyone wanted to go. I used the time to daydream and think
and just kind of take a break from a hectic week. Summer
Fridays were the best, because of the weather ( I despise
cold weather! ) and the general laid-back attitude of
everyone.
The green blur that went by my windshield shocked me
back to reality. I was already turning the key before I
checked the radar readout. I didn't need it to tell me that
the driver was speeding, but I was slightly curious as to
how much this particular driver was going to be 'donating'
to the county coffers. Seventy-eight in a forty. A least a
hundred bucks, I thought, gunning the motor and hitting the
switches for the lights and sirens. My roof rack came alive,
as did my high-beams, alternating with the red grille
lights. The car sped up, and I dropped the hammer. I was
reaching for the radio microphone when something stayed my
hand. Normally, procedure requires that I call for backup
when a pursuit situation arises, but something told me not
to. The driver wasn't running...really, just speeding up a
little.
County Route Two is a windy, twisty little road that
stretched for another six miles, and I kept right on the
car's tail, taking every turn like Mario Andretti. I was
just enjoying the ride, not worrying too much, because
something told me the driver was just...playing. The car
wasn't making a serious attempt to evade me, it just wasn't
pulling over. The other car, I noted, was a Porsche
Cabriolet Turbo, and could have easily left me in its dust.
The county line was fast approaching, and at our
current speed, we would close the last half mile in under
fifteen seconds. With three seconds to spare, my speeder hit
the brakes, her rear lights filling my windshield as the car
pulled to the side of the road.
Again, I would normally have run the plate through
the NCIC from the terminal in my patrol car, but that small
voice told me that I wouldn't need to, that the car would
come back clean. I wasn't sure what was going on here, but I
knew that it wasn't what it had appeared to be at first
glance.
I wasn't stupid, though. I put the take down lights
on, flooding the car in front of me with with several
hundred thousand watts of aircraft-grade lights. I worked
the thumbreak of my holster so that my Baretta 92F would be
within easy grasp, should things turn ugly. I approached the
car slowly, watching for any sudden movement.
"You were going at quite a clip," I said, loudly.
And then, from the driver's side window, came a
voice from my past. "Hey, copper! You'll never take me
alive!" And then came the giggle.
And then came the memories.
* * *
Kris...Kris was the girl of my past, of my youth.
She came into my life at that time between boyhood and
manhood when I was still discovering who I was going to be
in this world. I was 13 when Kris moved in next door to me.
She was 12, the daughter of an Army officer assigned to Fort
Stern.
Even at 13, I knew that when it came to the fairer
sex, I was not what was considered boyfriend material. Some
of my friends had begun to go on dates, attend makeout
parties...all those wonderful rituals of growing up that,
for some reason, I had been excluded from. The girls my age
all dated boys a year or two older. The girl I could date,
as it were, were a year or two younger...and none of them
wanted to date me, or go into the closet to play Post Office
with me, and my invitations to the neighborhood Spin the
Bottle games got lost in the mail, I guess.
So when Kris moved in next door, you could say that
I was a little bit excited. Our houses were set off from the
rest at the end of a winding, grassy cul-de-sac, and I knew
that I might have a day or two to get into her good graces
before she explored beyond the boundaries of our two
properties, before the other girls in the area poisoned her
mind.
Looking back on those days, I remember thinking that
it was a lost cause anyway. The first time I saw Kris I knew
that I didn't stand any kind of a chance with her anyway.
She was too beautiful, to perfect to be satisfied with a
pogue like me. She was so...sweet and innocent and perfect.
Tall for a girl, even at 12, standing five and a half feet
and seemingly growing more every day. Long blonde hair that
she wore in a bobbing ponytail that just added to her almost
magical allure, wide-set blue eyes the color of the ocean on
a stormy day. Her voice was slightly husky, almost man-like.
Her laughter was a song that the birds in the trees
themselves envied. I know it sounds like I idolized her, and
to a certain degree, that is true.
Kris was more of a tomboy than I realized at first.
She liked wearing jeans and sneakers and t-shirts. She kept
her hair pinned up under a baseball cap that she always
wore. One of the great pleasures of my young life was
watching her take that cap off and shaking her long, golden
hair out. She always looked like a goddess to me when she
did that, some magical metamorphosis taking place that
turned her from a dusty, baseball-playing, tree-climbing,
insect-catching, frog-racing tomboy into a vision of young
beauty and innocent perfection.
Kris showed up two weeks into the summer, and to my
complete surprise, we became fast friends. Best friends, as
a matter of fact. The Orioles were our favorite team, and by
mutual, unspoken agreement, we would listen to every game
together, either on the radio, or watching the night games
at one or the other's house. I saved my allowance and bought
her a fitted Orioles cap as a present. It became her pride
and joy, and she wore it everywhere. Seeing her in that cap,
and seeing the fat lip she gave Bobby Chambers when he stole
it off her head made me feel proud.
Kris and I spent that first magical summer together,
doing all the things kids do together. Climbing trees,
taking long walks in the woods, spending entire afternoons
flat on our backs, staring at the clouds, talking about
Important Things like Life and Love and The Meaning Of
Everything. She had little time for Love, she told me. She
thought she was ugly and fat. That was about as far from the
truth as you could get and still speak English, and I didn't
hesitate to tell her so. She thanked me, but I could tell by
her expression that she didn't believe me.
As I got to know Kris better, I also understood a
little of why she was the way she was. An only child, it was
obvious to me that her father had wanted a son. The way he
talked about Kris, the way he treated her, made me hate him
quickly. He called her "TuffStuff," and was constantly
treating her like he would a son. He once told her, in front
of me no less, that she had better learn a trade, because no
guy was going to want to marry her, ever. I saw the hurt and
the shame in Kris's eye, and I wanted to punch and kick and
bite her father until he apologized. The fact that her
father was a US Army Ranger, a Major in command of an entire
Battalion, made me reconsider my actions. The man was huge;
he could have snapped me in two with his little fingers.
The summer ended, and school began. One of the first
social events of the year was the Sadie Hawkins turnaround
dance. When I saw the posters going up in the hallway, I got
a little depressed and morose. I knew there weren't going to
be any girls shyly coming up to me, wondering if I would say
yes. That's just the way my existence was. When the girls
went down the mental lists as to who they would ask, my name
just never came up. Kris and I were still close, but she had
found some other friends, and we didn't spend as much time
together as we'd used to. It was hard, but I took great
pains not to let her know how much I missed her. She needed
to have other friends, I felt, other, more popular friends,
lest her entire school social life be ruined by her
association with me, the outcast.
So you can imagine my surprise when Kris asked me to
go to the dance with her. I accepeted immediately, and
instantly began wondering what was behind the invitation.
Kris explained, haltingly, that she wanted to go to the
dance badly, but didn't know any boys well enough to ask,
and was sure that anyone she did ask would have turned her
down. So I kind of won by default. She was glad, she said,
that she was going with 'a friend,' and that she would be
able to meet people there.
The phrase 'a friend' rang in my head like the death
knell of my social life. I understood what the parameters of
the evening and of our relationship were, and just gave
silent thanks that I was going with someone. It was at that
point that I knew I was in love with Kris. Quietly,
desperately...but still in love.
The night of the dance will stand out in my memory
for the rest of my life. I put on my best clothes, what
might have been called "Sunday Clothes" had my family been
religious. I went over to Kris's house to pick her up, and
knocked on the door.
There was a wait of perhaps thirty seconds, and then
the door opened. Kris stepped quickly out and shut it behind
her. I turned at the sound, and felt my breath leaving me,
my throat locking. Gone were the jeans and t-shirts. Gone
was the by-now dusty Orioles cap I'd given her seemingly a
thousand years ago. Gone was the rubber-banded ponytail she
wore to school most mornings.
Replaced, instead, by a stunningly beautiful little
girl wearing a gorgeous royal blue party dress. It came down
to just below her knees. Her long blonde hair had been
washed and brushed, and it cascaded around her shoulders and
neck like waves of hand-spun gold.
"What?" she asked, seeing my dumbfounded expression.
"You..you're beautiful!" I managed to croak out.
Kris punched me in the shoulder. Hard.
"Shut up!" she said, but there was the smallest hint
of a smile in her voice. "Don't say that. It's not true." I
started to open my mouth to argue with her, and then thought
better of it. "C'mon," she said, tugging at my arm, "Let's
go." We walked to the party silently, me scuffing the soles
of my shoes on the sidewalk, Kris looking off in the
distance with this look of intense concentration on her
face. We didn't talk, didn't say a single word to each
other.
We got to the dance, and I knew that I was the
luckiest guy there. None of the other girls could even hold
a candle to Kris...and they knew it. Seeing the looks of
jealousness and outright bitchiness Kris got from the other
girls made me feel proud and excited that she was my date.
Well...that wasn't exactly true. Kris and I had
arrived together, and I had every intention, at that point,
of leaving with her. But as I was to discover, I wasn't her
date. Not by a long shot.
The dance was held...where else? In the gym.
Streamers dangled from the ceiling, and a low-grade garage
band was pounding out tunes from The Eagles and Bob Seeger
in one corner, drowning out most conversations. A long table
filled with refreshments occupied one corner of the room. I
mimed drinking with my hands and then raised my eyebrows,
and Kris nodded, so I went off to get us some punch.
Returning with two paper cups, I saw Kris and Billy Warner
standing, talking. Kris had her back to me when I came up,
and the band had just finished a song.
"I said, you look beautiful tonight!" Billy said, a
little loudly. I winced, waiting for Kris to belt him, and
then was both surprised and hurt by what happened next.
Kris laughed this nervous little giggle, looked down
at the floor and said, "You really think so? Thank you." At
that moment, I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me
whole. I'd said the exact same thing to her on her porch,
and gotten a punch in the arm. Billy had said it, and gotten
the reaction I wanted. The smile, giggle and thank-you. And
then it all became clear. What I had said didn't matter to
Kris, wasn't important to her, because...because it had come
from me. I guess she felt that since we were friends, it
really didn't matter what I thought. She wanted me to think
of her as a friend, not as a girl, so my feelings for her
towards that end were...extra, unimportant.
Make no mistake. I knew that Kris didn't mean to
hurt me, wouldn't have said those things for the world had
she known the effect they ended up having on me. But that
didn't lessen the pain one iota. That's when I began to
understand what role I was going to play in the lives of all
my female friends. I was always going to be the best friend,
the surrogate big brother. They would take the flattery I
offered in the spirit in which they thought it was intended,
that of a friend who was 'required' to say such things. On
that warm fall night, that scent of sweat and moisture that
seems to be in every school gym in the world filling my
nostrils, the sounds of the band pulsing against my
eardrums, I watched silently for almost ten minutes as Kris
flirted with Billy. She laughed at his jokes and tossed her
hair, and even went so far as to scuff the toe of her shoe
back and forth on the floor when Billy told her she had the
bluest eyes he'd ever seen.
When he asked Kris if he could call her, sometime,
maybe? I closed my eyes and wished with all my heart and
soul that she would tell him thanks, but no thanks. Her
quick and eager acceptance made another little piece of my
heart break off and float away. Billy left, smirking at me
over Kris' shoulder as he walked away. She caught the
expression and turned to see me there. I smiled my best
smile and handed her the cup I'd brought. It was a paper
dixie-cup, and was dented from where I'd been gripping it.
She took and sipped from it, her eyes finding and tracking
Billy Warner across the room.
The rest of the dance passed slowly. About six
different boys came up to her and asked her to dance, and
she did with all of them. She and I danced, but she was
always looking elsewhere, following the boys. I just watched
her, entranced by her subtle and captivating beauty. And
truth be told, I felt like an ass, because I knew that she
would never look at me the way I was looking at her. I
wasn't in Kris' future as anything but a friend, and a
little part of me died that night.
But the worst was yet to come. With twenty minutes
left to go before the dance ended, Kris came up to me.
"Uh...Dan, can..um..." I thought I knew what was
coming, and I was right. "Billy wants to walk me home, and I
was wondering if..."
I let her off easy, because at that moment I wanted
to be anywhere else but there. "Sure," I said quickly. "No
problem. Have fun. Call me tomorrow."
She smiled and I smiled back, and I turned on my
heel and left. I walked home...alone...and knew with a
certain sureness and sadness that that was the way I'd be
spending most of my life anyway. As good a time as any to
get used to it, I supposed. The walk home seemed to take
three times as long as the walk over had.
I was in my room (which faced Kris's house) working
on my tie when I heard noise through the open window. I got
up and walked over and saw Kris and Billy on her front
porch. They were standing in front of her door, talking
quietly.
And then they fell silent, and Billy started...
leaning towards Kris. I was rooted to the spot, powerless to
move, watching this happen like you watch a car accident
happen. You can see it coming, but you know it's too late to
do anything, and it's all in slow motion. They kissed, and I
wanted to scream and shout. That was my kiss, the one I'd
earned. I'd been Kris's friend, I'd fallen in love with her,
I knew all her secrets. I knew her favorite color was royal
blue. I knew her middle name was Ethel ( a name she hated,)
and I knew that her father thought she was fat and ugly. I
knew that her cat's name was Mr. Cheevers and that her
mother liked to sing "Amazing Grace" while doing the
laundry. Kris and I had a thousand and one experiences
together, an entire summer of history that this...boy
couldn't begin to touch. That was my kiss, with my girl. And
Billy was getting it.
They pulled apart. The kiss hadn't lasted more than
a second or two, but all that had flashed across my mind in
that time. Billy pulled back further, and then Kris lunged
at him, kissing him back. This kiss lasted longer, and I
felt the tears starting, hot, fat drops of salty water
slowly filling my eyes only to spill out and run down my
cheeks.
That kiss ended, and Billy turned to leave just as
Kris turned to go into the house. As you can probably guess,
she turned towards me, saw the light, looked up, and saw me
standing there crying like a baby.
I just turned away from the window and went to bed.
Things between Kris and I...changed after that.
There was a new coolness, a new distance between us. Kris
had seen me, had seen the manifestation of my feelings for
her with her own two eyes. As much as she was my friend,
that's all she would ever be, and Kris didn't want to lead
me on or encourage me. Even at that young, tender age, she
understood more about the dynamics of our relationship than
I did.
What I did was try and forget how much I loved Kris.
I put it away, in a secret place deep inside, and worked to
rebuild the friendship. Kris and Bill started dating, as
much as you can date at that age. They would go for ice
cream or go to an afternoon movie together, always holding
hands, always staring into each other's eyes. Billy took
every opportunity to kiss Kris when I was around, and it
drove me quietly insane.
Kris eventually broke up with Billy, but the damn
had been broken. Kris was a beautiful young woman and she
had no trouble finding suitors. I had taken to watching her
on her front porch with my lights turned off. Kris was
always proper and virtuous, never allowing more than a peck
on the cheek and a fast hug. It still hurt like hell to
watch, though.
Kris and I grew further apart. She was popular now,
both with the boys and the girls. She ran for Sophomore
class president and won, with a lot of help from...me. I
campaigned for her, put up posters, did everything her
campaign manager asked me to. When she won, and made her
short acceptance speech, she thanked everyone who had given
time and effort on her behalf...except me. I felt my face
flush with anger and embarrasment as she walked off the
stage. She caught my eyes, and silently mouthed the words,
"Thank you," and kept walking. That was it.
Since I was a year ahead of her, my prom came first.
But Kris was dating a kid in my class at that time, and I
knew she was going, too. As you can probably guess, I went
stag. Kris looked beautiful in her special dress. She was 16
then, a gorgeous young woman in the full bloom of her young
life. Her date, Richard, was the handsomest kid in our
class, and they made a wonderful couple. I watched them slow
dancing around the gym, eyes locked together, a little smile
on her face.
It was late in the evening, about twenty minutes
until the entire thing was over. I was staring at the
streamers taped to this ring hung from the center of the
ceiling when I felt this tap on my shoulder. I looked over
as Kris sat down in the empty chair next to mine.
"Dance?" she said softly. I nodded and stood. I
wanted to dance with her very, very badly, but didn't want
her to know <how> badly. We moved to the floor just an an
old Elvis tune started playing. "I Can't Help Falling In
Love (With You)" We danced slowly, at arms length, even as I
tried to bring her closer. We stared at each other, and I
felt something... break loose inside me. I was six days away
from graduation, and college called. This was Kris' way of
saying goodbye, her final gift to me. Or so I thought.
The dance ended, and I leaned in and quickly kissed
her on the cheek, and squeezed her hand. "Thank you," I said
sincerely, turned and left. I walked home (again,) that same
walk I'd taken four years ago. I got home and trudged
upstairs, thinking about college and my future, trying to
forget my past and Kris. But it wasn't to be.
In my bedroom, sitting on my bed, was the dusty,
creased Orioles cap. No note, nothing. Just the cap. It
looked lonely and forlorn sitting there, and I joined it,
running my fingers over it, thinking back to that first
summer, the seemingly endless days spent making memories,
memories that were going to have to last a lifetime for me,
because I knew there wouldn't be any more.
When I came home from college and joined the local
police department, Kris' family had moved. Her father had
been promoted and transferred, and Kris was...gone. A new
family lived next door, an elderly couple who had retired
and were spending their twilight years in the house the love
of my life once lived in.
They turned Kris' bedroom into a sewing room.
That was four years ago. I was 22 at the time, Kris
was 21 and somewhere else.
It was four years later, now. I was 26, and Kris was
25, and she was in the car, laughing that same laugh.
"Hey, copper! You'll never take me alive!"
* * *
"Kris?" I asked, my hand still on my gun. I knew it
was her, but I was still careful.
"Dan!" she squealed, getting out of the car and
running into my arms. Her hug was ferocious and tight, and I
found myself wrapping her up in my arms, pulling her closer.
She smelled wonderful, just the way I remembered from those
summers almost fifteen years go.
We pulled apart, and I got my first look at her in
eight years. The time had been kind to Kris. She was a
beautiful young woman, mature and luscious. Her breasts were
full and firm, held in a tight grasp by the black leotard
top she wore, and were pressed together by the size-to-small
leather vest she was wearing. Her tight, round butt was
molded by the snug jeans she wore. Long, slim legs were
tucked into cowboy boots. Her hair was kinky now, either
naturally or by some beauty parlor magician, and it looked
wonderful.
"I stopped by the station, and they told me you were
out here looking for speeders, so I figured I'd let you
finally catch me!" I just smiled and hugged her again.
"When do you get off?" she asked.
I told her that my tour would be up at midnight.
"Would you like to...oh, I don't know...go out for a
drink or something?"
I agreed, and she told me to meet her at Finnegan's,
a local pub. She turned to get back into her car, and then
stopped, turning back to me to kiss me quickly and chastely
on the lips. "It's so good to see you again, Dan!" she
enthused. Kris got in the car and was gone.
I spent the rest of my tour in a daze. Three people
blew by me at over sixty miles an hour, and I let them all
go. I was in too good a mood to chase anyone, let alone
write any tickets.
Midnight came, and I rotated out, chaning into
street clothes and taking my Baretta and shield with me.
Department regulations required that I have my gun and
sheild at all times, but I wasn't thinking about enforcing
any laws that night. My mind was filled with questions.
Climbing into my PathFinder, I drove over to Finnegans in
two minutes flat, a trip that normally took ten.
Walking in, I spotted Kris talking to two guys at
the bar. Spotting me, she excused herself and walked over to
greet me. Throwing her arms around my neck, she gave me a
kiss that took my breath away. It was a close-mouthed kiss
(no tongue!) but it still shocked me to my socks.
"God, it's sooo good to see you!" she said, smiling
up at me, her arms still around my neck. Her hands dropped
to my waist, and she felt my pistol, snug in it's inside-
the-pants holster.
"So, is that a gun in your pocket-?"
"I'm just happy to see you," I finished. "But yes,
it's a gun." We cracked up at the stupid joke and made our
way to the bar. The two guys she'd been talking two had
vanished, and she didn't even give them a parting glance. We
sat and I ordered a beer.
"So," I asked, "What are you doing in these parts?"
"Well...I finished medical school, and...I'm back."
"Back? Back where?"
"Back here. I've decided to start a family practice
here. I'm going to be the new town doctor. You can call me
'Doc.'"
That news, frankly, blew me away. "Really..." I
said, not sure, exactly, what this meant. Kris was
apparantly back in my life...but in what capacity?
"You don't sound very excited, Dan." There was soft
reproach in her voice, and I moved quickly to control the
damage.
"I just thought that I'd never see you again."
"Didn't you get any of my letters?"
That shocked me. "No. Not one. What letters? I never
got any letters from you!"
"I...gave them to your mother to mail to you after
you left for college. When I left, I mailed them to my
parents, and my mother gave them to your mother...and you
didn't get any of them? Not one?"
I nodded, suddenely understanding. My mother knew
how I felt about Kris, and knew how Kris, at the time, felt
about me. Trying to protect me, I suppose, she hadn't given
me a single one.
"I thought you hated me," Kris said softly. "I kept
apologizing in my letters for...ignoring you. For not..."
"Shh," I said, holding a finger to her lips. "Don't
worry about it. I got over it. I...went on."
"So," Kris said brightly, after a minute, "What's
going on in your life? Got anyone special?"
I snorted. "You know better than that."
She heard the hurt and lonliness in my voice and
just let it sit there.
"Still have my hat?" she finally asked. I nodded.
"Why did you put it on my bed?" That had been
bothering me for nine years.
Kris took a while to answer, sipping at her beer as
she framed a reply. "Back then...on the night of the prom, I
wanted you to have a fresh beginning. You were going off to
college, and I was still home, in town. I wanted you to move
on, Dan. I knew how you felt about me. Hell, the whole
school knew! I didn't think it was fair for you to carry
around all that baggage...especially since I couldn't return
the feelings."
"So why'd you write me?" I challenged.
Kris sighed. "Because once you were gone...you know
the old saying. You don't appreciate something until after
it's gone." At that moment, I remembered another old saying.
'If you love something...let it go. If it comes back, it's
yours. If it doesn't it never was.' I had let Kris go, and
now she was back. Was she mine?
Kris and I spent that night catching up on nine
years of each other's lives. I told her about college and
being a cop in a small town. She told me of college, and
medical school, and her internship. She'd graudated a year
early from college, and then finished medical school in
three years instead of two.
"I was looking for something. What, I didn't know.
But I do now."
I left that alone for the moment. Too many
explosive, voilitile emotions surrounded that. Kris was
leaving me openings left and right...and I was determined to
be sure what she was thinking before I made my move. If she
was hinting, one more day or week or month wouldn't make a
difference. If she wasn't, and was just making conversation,
I couldn't stand the pain and the humiliation again.
We went our seperate ways that night, Kris kissing
me again before she got into her car. I drove home and fell
into a deep, restless sleep. I dreamt of the prom, only this
time we were adults, and Kris was my date, and she was
wearing that same dress, only in adult proportions, and the
cowboy boots, and we danced every dance together in an empty
gym, just the two of us.
I had four more four-to-midnight shifts left to go
before I rotated to midnights, and three days off before I
had to start midnight-to-eight shifts the following
Saturday night. Those four shifts I spent thinking about
Kris and I...together. She had been hinting the entire time
that night at the bar, and I was trying to work up the
courage to call her up and ask her out.
Finally, I did it. Wednesday night, I was in my
house (the same house I'd grown up in, my parents long
retired to Florida,) pacing in the living room, staring at
the silent phone, letting it mock me. Nothing ventured, etc,
I thought, and sat down. Unfolding the bar napkin that Kris
had scrawled her telephone number across, I dialed the seven
digits with a shaking hand.
The phone was answered by a machine, and I breathed
a sigh of relief. I'd already rehearsed the message I'd
leave on the machine. It was easier to talk to the machine,
because it couldn't say no. And the message I'd leave would
give me an easy out.
"It's Dan," I said after the beep. "It's nine-thirty
Wednesday, and I was wondering if you would like to have
dinner with me Friday night. If you do, call me at home.
Leave a message if I'm not here. If I don't hear from you...
I'll understand. Talk to you-"
There was a click on the line, and then Kris, out of
breath. "I heard the phone ringing when I pulled into the
driveway," she gasped, "and almost broke my key off in the
lock when I heard your voice. Give me a second..." She
caught her breath, and I heard sitting noises in the
background: the scrape of a chair against a kitchen floor,
the weight of her body settling into it.
"Dan...are you asking me out on a date?" My blood
turned to ice and I wanted to die. Another ten seconds, and
the messsage would have been safely with the machine. Forty-
eight hours of silence from her, and I would have realized
that once again I'd made an asshole out of myself, that
there was no way in hell this intelligent, sexy woman would
ever want any part of a pogue-
"Dan? Are you still there?"
I sighed. "Yes. I was asking you out on a date. I'm
sorry. It was just that in the bar-"
"I'd be delighted, Dan." Silence from me prompted a
footnote from her. "Really. I'd be delighted. I was hoping
you would ask."
"Fine," I managed. "I'll pick you up at seven."
"You don't even know where I live!" she chided.
"You forget. I'm a cop. I know everything. See you
Friday." I hung up to the sound of her songlike laughter and
immediately freaked. Because now I had to face something I'd
been ignoring for a long, long time.
At the tender age of 26, I was still...a virgin.
* * *
Friday came, and I was nervous all day. I bought new
clothes and then discarded them, tossing them into the back
of my closet. I wanted to look good, but casual and
unstudied, like I hadn't gone to any trouble. I settled on a
light blue oxford, wash-faded jeans, and cowboy boots. I was
known well enough in the town that I could tuck my Baretta
into the small of my back and not worry about someone
calling the cops. After all, I was the cops!
I studied myself in the mirror as I shaved for my
first date with Kris. I, too, had changed since Kris saw me
last. I'd lost about thirty pounds in college, and another
ten or so when I joined the force. Costant workouts had
gotten me in shape, as a fat, flabby cop was not effective
on the streets. My face was mostly still the same, though.
Average. Brown eyes, the shade of shit. A small nose,
neither distinctive nor striking. I'd grown a mustache, the
color the same as the mousy brown on my head.
"You're an idiot," I told the mirror. "She's never
going to love you..." And then I put thoughts like that out
of my head and finished preparing for thd date.
I drove over to Kris' place wondering what the hell
was going to happen that night. If I'd known, I might have
turned around and driven right back home. Pulling into her
driveway, I parked and turned the truck off, getting out and
ascending the front porch stairs. Ringing the doorbell, I
turned around and remembered another night I stood on a
porch, waiting for Kris.
The door opened and I turned around. Kris was
wearing a light blue, off-the-shoulder dress. It came down
to just above her knees, and she was wearing those same
cowboy boots. Her hair was in a bouncy ponytail, her face
scrubbed clean and devoid of makeup. She looked perfect.
"Well? What do you think?" she asked, twirling for
me.
"I'd tell you," I started.
"But you're afraid I'd punch you, right?" I was
touched that she remembered that night as well as I. "Tell
me anyway," she said, batting her eyelashes at me.
"You look beautiful," I said sincerely.
"You really think so? Thank you." Wow. That was too
much. It was as if I were Bobby, in the gym, at that first
dance. I was blown away. It was like Kris had peeked inside
my head and read the mental script that I kept of that
night.
We walked to my truck, got in, and drove to
Finnegans for dinner. When we walked in, every head turned
and every guy was instantly jealous. I felt a little puffed
up with pride, and we made our way to my regular table, a
small intimate little booth in the back. She slid in next to
me, her leg pressing against mine.
The waitress came over. "Hello, Dan. What can I get
the law tonight, and his pretty date?"
"Cheryl?" Kris asked. Cheryl Lingstrom had been a
classmate of mine, a girl who had been charitibly known back
then as...well, as the class slut.
"Yes...?"
"It's me! Kris! Kris Russo!"
"Kris?" The girls squealed and hugged. "What are you
doing back in town?"
"I'm setting up my medical practice here!" Kris
said, sitting back down. She put her arm through mine and
grabbed my hand. "And having dinner with the handsomest man
in town!"
Cheryl's eyebrows went up at that, but she didn't
say anything. She just nodded and opened her pad. "What'll
you folks have?"
We ordered, and then Cheryl left us alone. I was
still blushing from Kris' earlier comment. "So tell me about
what goes on in law enforcement in this town," she said
softly, staring into my eyes. I was at a complete and utter
loss of words, and was only saved by the arrivial of our
salads. Cheryl put them in front of us and vanished, leaving
me the opportunity to feed my face. It was better then
trying to make conversation with Kris. I had no idea what to
say. I didn't feel witty or charming. I didn't want to <say>
or <do> anything to fuck this up. She looked so beautiful,
so perfect, sitting next to me.
So right.
That's what it felt like...that it was right,
perfect, pre-ordained that Kris would be there with me. The
years apart vanished, and it was like we were kids again, no
secrets, endless summer afternoons talking about Important
Things and looking at the clouds.
Cheryl was a great waitress, the entrees coming
directly on the heels of the appetizers, and Kris and I
didn't have much opportunity to talk. She and I both
declined desert, and the check came with rapidity heretofor
unseen at Finnegans. I tipped Cheryl mightily, and Kris and
I left.
We got into the truck and Kris was silent. I smiled,
and remembered my gift. Reaching back behind her seat, I
found it and dropped it into her lap. Kris raised it in her
hands, and then smiled at me, the warmest, most beautiful
smile I have ever seen on another human being. She put the
dusty, creased, well-fingered Orioles cap on her head,
letting the ponytail stream out the back.
"Let's go to the docks," she said. I nodded and
started the truck. The docks were mostly just a series of
piers, used by some of the bigger ships up until about ten
years ago. They were mostly deserted now, and had turned
into a local lover's lane.
We got there and parked, and then got out and
started walking along the water.
"You're awful quiet tonight," Kris offered. I just
shrugged. "Penny for your thoughts," she tried again.
"I...just don't want to fu-...screw this up."
"You're not."
"I know. That's why I'm not talking." She laughed
and I joined her.
"Do you know why I was so happy when you called and
asked me out?"
I said that I did not.
"Because...one of the reasons I came back here, back
home, is you. I knew that you were here, living and working.
..I want you to be a part of my life, Dan."
That was fairly vauge. I didn't say anything. I'd
learned a few interrogation techniques, and one of them was
to let the silences build, let the subject dig themselves
in, rushing to fill the void.
"After you left for college...I felt empty. I knew
how you felt about me, and I missed that. I was selfish and
petty back then. I liked the idea of having this boy devoted
to me...even if I wouldn't ever think of dating him. It made
me feel beautiful and desired and wanted. You remember how
my father used to be. I broke up with Richard that summer
when he started fooling around with an older girl. She let
him make love to her, and he wanted me to do that with him,
but I just wasn't ready. We had huge fights. He tried that
old 'if you love me you'll do this for me' routine, and I
used that old 'if you love me you won't make me do this'
thing on him. So I got rid of him. And I was angry for a
long time, angry because I suddenely realized that you never
would have given me that ultimatum. You would have waited
until the time and place were right, and then it would just
happen...naturally, beautifully, the way it was meant to be.
And with that realization came the understanding of how
shabbily I'd treated you over the years. That's when I
started writing."
"I know," I said quietly.
"Excuse me?"
"I went through some of my parent's papers. I found
a box full of your letters in the attic. I read them. All of
them."
"Oh." Her voice was suddenely small and far away.
"If I had gotten them...I would have come to see
you, Kris. Like you asked. But I never got them, I swear."
"I know," she nodded.
We fell silent for a few moments. Kris shivered a
little. The wind was coming in off the water. She turned her
back to the water, facing me, and I could see the hard
points of her nipples under the dress, and I realized with a
start that she wasn't wearing a bra!
"Cold?" I asked, turning to leave. She reached out
and touched my arm.
"Kiss me," she said. "Please." I turned back slowly,
and wrapped her up in my arms. She had gained about an inch,
and stood about five nine. Her face was at the perfect
height. Lowering my face towards hers, I closed the distance
between our lips in slow, agonizing increments. And then we
were kissing...really kissing, for the first time. Her mouth
was soft and hot, and after minute her lips parted, and her
tongue came knocking against my mouth. I opened my mouth,
and then we were deeply Frenching, her hot moist tongue in
my mouth, setting my toes on fire. Kris' arms encircled my
back, moving up to my shoulders, pulling me tightly against
her.
"Mmm," she moaned into my mouth. Pulling away, I
turned my head to the other side and came in again. This
kiss was hotter than the first, if that was at all possible.
Our mouths worked eagerly, hungrily together, and I knew at
that instant that I had never stopped loving Kris, not
completely. This was perfect and right and just and
inevitable. I was kissing the woman I loved, the woman I'd
always loved, and she was kissing me back.
"Take me home," she moaned against my throat when we
parted. "Take me to your house and make love to me, Dan.
Please!"
I pulled away from her, pursing my lips. "There's
something you should know," I started, ready to reveal my
secret to her, finally.
Her features clouded, her eyebrows drawing together.
Concern was written all across her face. "What?"
"I...um....I've never...." Surprise turned to
outright astonishment.
"Never? Ever?" I shook my head. Laughing, she said,
"You saved yourself for me?"
"No...I mean, yes, but not...I mean, there was never
anyone else who...wanted to....with me, I mean.....I mean.."
"Shh," Kris said, kissing me. "I don't care why. And
it's not important. I just wish that I was...that I hadn't..
..before tonight...that way, it could be, for both of us,
the first-"
"Shh," I said to her, kissing her again. "For me, it
will be. I've...dreamed about this...forever. Whenever I
thought of my first time with a woman, it was always you in
my mind. Always you showing me what you liked, what you
wanted. Teaching me how to do it right, to make you feel
good."
"But what about you?"
"I don't care. If...if you get pleasure, the maximum
pleasure, that's all that was important to me." And it was
true. It was.
"Take me home," Kris said. "Take me to your bed,
Dan."
* * *
The door to my house swung open, and Kris stepped in
ahead of me. I closed and locked the door, and turned to
face her. Kris leaned up on her toes and kissed me, softly,
once. Taking my hand, she led me up the stairs to my
bedroom. It was the same bedroom I'd slept in as a child.
I'd replaced the twin bed with a king-sized, the thing
dominating the entire room.
Kris shut my bedroom door and turned on the light by
the bed. She turned to me, biting her bottom lip and slowly
walked over to where I was standing. She kissed me again,
wrapping her arms around my neck. Once again, our mouths
were working hungrily and eagerly against each other. My
hands were on her waist, gently holding her. One of Kris'
hands left my neck and found my hand, lifting it to her
chest and placing it on her right breast.
Gasping into her mouth, I closed my fingers around
that full, perfect tit. It's plump, heavy weight felt like
heavan in my hand, and I gently hefted it, testing it's
bounce and resliencey. My thumb worked across her nipple,
and Kris gasped into my mouth. Thinking I'd hurt her, my
hand flew off her breast and smacked against the wall.
"I'm sorr-" I started. Kris smiled and reached for
my hand, replacing it on her breast.
"It felt good, Dan, that's all. Don't worry. If you
do something I don't want you to, I'll tell you. But I don't
think that's going to be a problem." And then we were
kissing again. The kisses gained strength and passion and
emotion, and I had to move my mouth. I was gasping, hungry
for air. Kris kissed my neck and chin,moving down to my
throat. Her hands left my neck and started working on the
buttons of my shirt. Kris kissed each new portion of skin
that was revealed, taking several minutes to lick and tug on
my nipples with her lips and tongue. I reached behind me and
removed my pistol, reaching past Kris to put it on the
dresser. I checked the safety before returning to her arms.
Didn't want it going off NOW. I was in danger of shooting
off, though.
Kris pulled my shirt off and tossed it over her
shoulder. She leaned down and kissed my stomach, then moved
lower and teasingly licked my belly button. I felt her hands
on my belt buckle, and I stopped her.
"You," I said. She smiled and stood, holding her
arms out. I kissed her neck and shoulder and throat, Kris
moaning as I did so. Her hands were in my hair, nails
lightly scratching my scalp. She kissed my ear and licked me
there, turning me on even more.
I slid the short sleeves off of her arms and gently
lowered the top of her dress. Kris' breasts bobbed as the
material passed over them, and for the first time in my
life, I had a pair of naked female breasts to kiss and touch
and stroke.
They were perfect, as only a young girl's can be.
They weren't overly large, but they were in perfect
proportion to the rest of her body. Perfectly round, about
the diameter of an orange, they sat high and proud on her
chest, the little pink nipples stiff in excitement. I dipped
my face down and kissed her left nipple, tugging at it
gently with my teeth. Kris' fingernails dug into my scalp,
pulling my mouth closer to her breast. Moving to the other
one, I repeated the action. Kris pulled my face away and her
mouth ascended towards mine, her toungue reaching out and
licking and teasing mine. She worked the dress off her hips
and it fell to the ground. She sat on the bed and worked her
boots off, standing to face me again in just her tiny pink
panties.
I lost my pants and boots and socks in a heartbeat.
We were facing each other, her in her panties, me in my
jockeys. I had a tent in mine, though. Hooking her fingers
in her panties, Kris lowered them, and I saw the fine blonde
down covering her mons.
"Christ," I said, "it grew a beard!" Kris laughed
with sudden rememberence. That first summer, we'd gone
swimming down at the lake, and since neither of us had
brought a suit, we'd swum in our underwear. I still
remembered the brief glance I'd gotten of her fat, bald
little twat.
"Very funny," Kris laughed. So did yours, I bet!" I
took a deep breath and hooked my own fingers in the
waistband of my underwear and slid them down my legs. We
were finally, gloriously naked for each other.
For the first time.
She was perfect, beautiful, fragile.
And, for tonight, at least, mine.
We fell onto the bed together, laughing and giggling
like kids. Kris rolled over on top of me, kissing me. Her
long, lithe body felt hot and smooth against mine. My hands
cupped her ass, that ass I had lusted after for so many
years. She ground her crotch against mine, and I could feel
the moisture of her arousal against my thighs and pubic
hair. My cock was trapped between our bodies, rubbing
against Kris' stomach.
"This ain't no gun in your pocket, pardner!" Kris
laughed, reaching between us to stroke me. Her touch was
feathery light and exciting. "Careful," I warned. "I'm a
quick shot!"
"I know...this first one's gonna be fast. Don't
worry about it. We have all night. And all day. And all
night. And all day again...!" She stroked me, once, twice,
and I climaxed, covering both of our bellies with my cream.
"Mmm," Kris said. "So hot and creamy...!" She got
off my body and licked her way down to my crotch, cleaning
me with her mouth. She worked slowly, teasingly, lovingly. I
didn't get soft at all. Not one little bit. My hot, hard
cock was eager for action. Kris worked it slowly, taking my
entire length into her mouth with gentle, deep strokes. My
first blowjob was better than I could have ever imagined.
I was getting close to another orgasm when I pulled
her face from my cock. "Now you," I said, rolling her onto
her back. Eagerly, Kris spread her legs, and I got down
between them...and realized that I was lost. I had never
seen...one of these up close before.
"What's the matter?" Kris teased. "Don't like the
view?"
"I like the view fine," I said. "I just...need a
map!" Laughing, Kris showed me what I needed to know. She
pointed out all the locations I needed to be aware of, and
told me to go to it.
I never could have imagined how exciting she would
taste. So hot and tangy. So beautiful. I sipped and licked
and blew and gently sucked at her, covering every inch of
her pussy with my mouth, lips and tongue. Kris announced
that she was getting closed, and directed my attention to a
very specific spot. I worked it, and her, using my lips and
tongue, and felt her shudder under me. I was bathed with her
secretions, and I gulped them eagerly. Kris pulled me to
her, raising her face for a kiss.
"Mmm," she said. "I taste good!" I smiled, and we
kissed again, softly. "Ready for the main event?" she asked.
"Ready as I'll ever be!" I assured her. Reaching one
hand down, Kris located my throbbing member and guided it
towards her pussy. I felt wetness and warmth, and then I was
sliding inside. She was incredibly hot and tight and wet and
slick for me, and I groaned as I bottomed out inside her.
She clutched at me with her muscles, milking me, and I
groaned again. It was beyond belief. I was inside the woman
I'd loved for so many years, finally a part of her. What
we'd done tonight could never be taken back, never be undone
by anything anyone ever did. If I died tonight, I'd go a
happy man to whatver came after this life with no regrets.
Pulling out, I slid back in again, the second thrust
better than the first. We set up a slow motion, a gentle
rocking gait, and stared at each other as we made love this
first, special time.
"I love you," Kris whispered. "I can't help falling
in love with you," she said in her best Elvis and I laughed,
once again touched that she remembered and realized how
important she, and that night had been to me.
Was to me.
My strokes began to quicken, and Kris grunted in
pleasure, her legs coming up and around my back, one palm
against my ass, urging me on. We made love hungrily,
eagerly, giving and taking to and from each other, staring
at each other's eyes as we became one on my bed that night.
When I spent again, Kris joined me, her pussy
contracting around me, milking me, happily accepting my
creamy offering. I collapsed, rolling over onto my back,
bringing Kris with me. She kissed me then, once, softly on
the lips, and snuggled her face into my chest.
"This feels so...right," she said, just before
drifting off to sleep.
"I love you," I said, and felt her arms tighten
around me.
I slept.
* * *
I woke first, and disengaged myself from Kris. I
went downstairs and made coffee, eggs and toast. Retrieving
the paper, I put it on the tray and carried the whole thing
upstairs. Entering the bedroom, I saw that Kris was still
sleeping. The covers came up to the bottom of her butt, that
perfect ass of hers looking soft and smooth in the early
morning light. Kris had taken the rubber band out of her
hair sometime during the night, and her golden tresses were
spread over the pillow. I could see the press of her breast
against the bed, and saw her perfect, pert little nose
buried in the pillow.
She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in my
life. She woke then, smelling the foot. Donning my shirt
from the night before, she motioned me over to the bed. We
ate in silence, sharing the paper and enjoying the
companionable silence.
I was reading the sports page when I felt a hand
inside my bathrobe, reaching for my cock. I lowered the
paper and saw that Kris had unbottoned my shirt. I could see
her breasts inside, moving gently against the material.
"Again?!" I said in mock horror.
"Again!" Kris said, grabbing the paper and tossing
it away. "Love me, Dan. Again. All day today. And tonight.
Forever."
Lowering my face to hers, just before I kissed her,
I said, "Forever."
The End
--
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can be addressed to [email protected].
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