Ruby wasn't controlling her flirting as Coral tried to keep the brunette and me connected to the next step of our homework task. We sat around a table in our school's private study hall in mid-year 1974. Our task required brainstorming a group response to a question set in our last English Literature class. We had to get busy since it was due the next day.
"Okay," pestered Coral, "whatever else is in your mind, clear it, you two. We need to go over our points?"
She had done most of the thinking and note-taking.
"Come on," she urged, "Let's check our summary: Who or what was responsible for the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet."
My bestie cross-referenced her notes with the text. Ruby, the current college valedictorian favourite, remained unfocused like me. The brunette's head was stationed on her girlfriend's shoulder. She had edged, inched, and eased for half an hour to nestle.
The minx daydreamed in Goldilocks' just right space.
I knew why! Josh was relegated to the bleachers because he spent the long weekend away at a touring car event, accompanying Max. I recalled Coral being livid last Friday night when she rang me.
She mumbled, "That tart Brit was a certainty of being there."
Next, she unloaded, "He promised he would attend my dad's birthday. Yeah, I know, stuffy and straight. He promised. He bailed on me for hot rods and that floozy!"
Her words. I never heard Coral use this language.
"Brittany! If I ever have a child, that name is off my list!"
Coral fumed, and it became a rare occasion when I couldn't calm her.
On a Tuesday morning, Ruby did the job in the study hall. Any time Coral cooled on Josh, Ruby heated for the golden girl. And Josh lacked a school Monday to let Coral tell him off and move on! Also, Josh opted for an outdoor sports elective instead of the open study line.
The door to Coral lay open this morning; it revolved, and Ruby loved to spin her girlfriend. And I lacked concentration because I made 'gaga-eyes' at the golden girl. Who, I convinced myself, never noticed my steady gaze.
My recurring thought through '74; I could do better than Josh.
Coral finished checking her notes. I contributed zilch except checking out Coral. Ruby's contribution amounted to keeping her head leaning into her girlfriend's shoulder.
I admired my bestie's concentration. She outlined our points one by one. They were, in fact, her points.
"Right, are we done," she queried.
I clicked into gear. I remembered the film version we viewed in class. It occurred to me we missed Shakespeare's profound message.
I blurted, "What about Friar Laurence's advice to 'love moderately'?"
The brunette responded like she had been stung by a bee. I interrupted her reverie. Her annoyance with me (not the bard) came fast.
"Who would take moderation over raunchy passion?"
Ruby changed her position. From her soft-lined nestling into Coral, her countenance became angular and provocative. She leaned right back. Her hands locked behind her head. She brought a leg up to the chair's edge. Her leg bent in a triangle like her two arms.
She gave Coral a close and steady stare. Her body opened to her girlfriend. Ruby's pose stopped Coral from writing the point. Her pen wavered anxiously in her hand.
Without looking at me, the brunette scoffed, "Oh you."
If Coral was my angel, Ruby was a she-devil.
I watched the pair smoulder. The girlfriends generated molten sexual magnetism for each other. My Coral seemed as close to surrendering to the Italian beauty's wildfire lips as I had ever seen her.
Where was Josh when you needed him?
I scrambled to ransom my golden girl from Ruby's rich-set eyes. I dug deep in my head.
"But moderate is closer to true and lasting," I spluttered.
My comment was thoughtful enough to make Ruby look in my direction across the table and scrutinise me. Her leg dropped, and her hands grabbed the table edge. I believed she would unleash a jibe at me and return her focus to Coral.
I surmised; yes, I'd take the short excitement. Who wouldn't? Yet, we want more; we yearn for what will last.
The brunette held her line and the current state of her mind.
Scornful, she delivered, "True exhilaration, sunshine - trust me, it will get you one day."
Ruby flipped her girlfriend's honeyed locks.
I sat on my hands, resentful.
Phew!
Coral gathered her decorum. She scrabbled rapidly in the play, seeking the scene reference. I was glad she didn't react to Ruby's gesture, which suggested more than play.
I matched the soon-to-be valedictorian's mind.
"Don't the small things count and build depth, like when hands touch."
The brunette thought I meant palm to palm in Romeo and Juliet.
No, I wanted more. I wished to stretch my fingertips across the table to Coral's clear, polished nails resting atop the desk.
The bell rang, indicating morning break. Ruby would have fired back better, except she refocused, keen to pursue Coral. My bestie gathered her gear to go. She stood and shook her head at us. Her golden mane waved adorably. In a lenient way, she was telling us off.
However, Ruby and I were under a sway – desire– as Coral departed.
"Geez, you are a romantic," delivered cavalier by Ruby as she bounced up, "you'll end up heartbroken."
I remained seated. The brunette stepped away. She followed her girlfriend. Neither of us made a secret about what dominated our minds: Coral. Her hair developed a gilded sheen under the study hall hanging lights.
Jenny filled my mind the morning after the Il Piacere dinner. I recall entering my share-house bathroom. On the broad window sill lay Jenny's toiletry pouch. Left, I realised, from a recent sleep-over. Its contents; were a white toothbrush and a mauve canister of body spray.
My memory summoned her bathroom the weekend before the restaurant evening. I recall knocking and opening the door. I intended to tell her the time because of my concern that she would be late for a family event.
A fine haze from a fluoro orange perfume canister intoxicated me, but her derrière captured my attention. Jenny saw the desire in my eye and realised her butt was doing the work here.
She didn't cease spraying or remove the temptation. I sidled behind her at the basin. I nudged my maleness between her legs, like the lakeside cabin. My pants dropped fast. She purred repeatedly and surprised me when she shut her eyes. Her breath quickened as I prodded. My eyes remained open; Jenny's closed.
A half-hearted plea escaped her lips; "Mmm, yes, good. I've showered, you bugger."
She didn't resist me, and I didn't stop this time. I was ready. Jenny had the prior desire. I took in her oval booty: smooth, rounded, and supple. I could have squeezed it all day. My hardness wasn't waiting. I rubbed and nuzzled Jenny's glossy, hidden lips.
She expected me; she anticipated my joining her body as she raised one leg to the edge of the nearby bathtub to welcome my advance. Her labia peeked into view as intricate as a double treble clef.
What followed equalled mutual input for mutual reward. We pushed together as desire reciprocated fulfilment. The sexual simple: the tried, tested and successful coupling formula of time immemorial—our full expression of sexual direction at the given moment.
My hands shaped the outline of her hips. They opened next, sweeping over her breasts. My hands, in awe, glided over her. They joined to Jenny's hips, drawing her body towards me and my shaft deeper into her body, which enveloped mine.
We shared vigorous, hot-blooded sex lathered in expressive sensuality. The sweet, sweet pleasure fabricated by two. Jenny flushed, contented, her body in a blissful state. She released the slightest sigh of pleasure. I reached my climax near-simultaneous. Our combined senses delighted. She was fetching.
"Wow," she exclaimed, half-turned, as she wiped her sex demurely using tissues.
At the same time, I splashed water over my privates and dried them. I pulled my pants back up.
"Wow," Jenny smiled, "That went right through me! I'm tingly, you bugger. I can't go to my mum for lunch looking like this."
She glowed.
"You're beautiful," I stated.
"Seriously, Luke…"
I imbibed Jenny in front of me, naked after sex.
Is this the moment to tell a woman she is comely - in the after-pleasure web?
Jenny's smile reminded me of a woman in a painting, Renoir's Luncheon of the Boating Party. It featured a young woman named Louise. The picture is full of happy, smiling people. It's Louise's engaging smile drawing you into the artwork repeatedly.
I splashed lukewarm water from the basin over her radiant body. Jenny's smile widened. She stayed in this even as she partly dressed in her underclothes. We held each other and kissed.
A shard of light bathing the bathroom window outlined her faint acne marks like strobe lighting on a dance floor. I traced my finger carefully.
"The light," she said, "Sometimes in a light spike, I see them too. You're the only one who has ever noticed."
Pushing from her toes, she reached to kiss me. I let her finish getting ready to go out. As I left the bathroom, Jenny started respraying.
I held Jenny. Jenny holds clear in my memory. I loved her femininity.