Tiffany knocked on Chuck's door, and he opened it, dressed in a light
shirt and slacks. She had put on the sexiest thing she'd
brought with her, which was a blouse with a deep "V" neck. She'd
left her bra off, even though she knew her heavy breasts would bounce
all around. They were just going to the dining room, and then
... She didn't know what would happen then, but she knew he liked
looking at her breasts, and she liked having him look, now, so she just
did it. Her legs were bare under the tan skirt she was wearing,
and she had on sandals.
"I'm ready," he said.
"Me too," she said, meaning something completely different. He missed it, though, and she took his hand.
"You look good," he said.
"Of course I do," she said, smiling. "You're fairly handsome yourself."
"Of course I am," he quipped.
"This has gotten a little strange," said Chuck, over dinner.
"It's certainly turned out differently than I thought it would," said Tiffany.
"How so?" he asked, just to keep her talking.
"I did not come here thinking about sex," she said calmly. "I
didn't come here to meet an interesting man, though I'm not
complaining. I thought I was coming here to get some information
that would do me some good in school. Instead, I've learned
something about myself."
"What's that?" he asked.
"I can still feel like a horny seventeen year old cheerleader," she
said, smiling. "I never would have admitted that before
yesterday." She went on. "Before yesterday, I wouldn't have
given you a chance," she said. "I'm used to keeping men at arms
length, not chasing after them."
"And that's a good thing?" he asked.
"It isn't good or bad. It's just new. We're both adults,"
she said. "We should be able to do whatever we want to do in this
situation."
"Why do you think your boyfriend stayed in college, instead of coming with you?" asked Chuck.
"I don't know," she said. "I don't want to think about that right now."
"Don't you think it's important to figure out why one relationship failed, before you start another one?" he insisted.
"OK, he didn't love me," she said, frowning.
"But you had sex with him anyway," suggested Chuck.
"I thought we were falling in love," she complained. "Isn't sex part of that?"
"Tiffany," he said patiently, "think about that. Answer this. When was the first time you had sex with him?"
"I don't remember," she said crossly.
"What date?" he insisted. "First? Second? Fifth?"
"Second," she said, sullenly. "He got me drunk at a Frat party."
"And you thought he loved you," said Chuck.
Tiffany thought about shouting at him. Why did he have to bring
all this up? She knew she'd made a mistake. She knew now
that she'd been played by the handsome young man who was older, and had
made her feel so grown up. She'd thought, as the years went
on and on, that they HAD fallen in love. Then, when she left, and
he obviously hadn't missed her as much as she'd missed him, her world
began to darken. As her year of teaching went on, and she
got busy, she blamed it all on him.
"Do you still love him ... miss him?" asked Chuck, maddeningly.
"You are SO not getting into my panties, Mister," she snarled.
"Answer the question, Tiffany," he said. "Be honest with yourself ... and me."
"Why do you even care?" she asked, almost loudly.
"Because I like you," he said.
"What does liking me have to do with him?" she asked.
"Look," he said patiently. "You hopped into bed with him."
He stopped when an angry scowl came onto her face. "OK, he got
you drunk, but the point is that you started your relationship with him
based on sex. Maybe there was more, later, but maybe not
too. It didn't last. Whatever was there wasn't strong
enough to overcome what happened. All I'm saying is that I don't
want that to happen with us ... if there can even BE an us."
"That's it?" Her voice went up two octaves. "You won't go to bed with me because you want to fall in love first?!"
"Can you think of a better plan?" he asked, not flinching.
Tiffany sat there, looking at him. That was exactly what
she'd thought, all the way through High School. Find a man ...
fall in love ... THEN give up your virginity. Then, after
that first, wild night, at the party, when her body had screamed out
how wonderful it felt ... all that had, somehow, slipped away.
"I don't like you any more," she said.
"You want me to leave?" he asked.
"Of course not, you idiot," she snarled.
"Do you understand what I'm trying to say?" he asked.
"Yes." She sighed heavily. "That doesn't mean I agree with
you, though." She cursed herself for lying to him. She did,
actually, agree with him, now that she thought about it.
"I'm sorry," he said, sounding sorry. He'd believed her.
"But that's who I really am, down deep. As much as you're
my perfect fantasy, I don't want to ruin it by having meaningless
sex." He blinked. "I know I'm crazy, but I also know that
if we just tumbled into bed, my fantasy would die, and that's really
all I have."
"You're not crazy," said Tiffany, a little stiffly. "With that
line, you could get all the meaningless sex any man could want.
Most women would love to hear you say things like that before taking
them to bed."
"But not you." He sounded profoundly sad.
"Don't put words in my mouth," she snapped.
They ate in silence for a while.
"So," he finally said. "What happens now?"
Tiffany looked up at him. "As difficult as it is for me to
believe that a man could say something insightful and intelligent, I
think you may have come close to that," she said. "I need
to think about things for a while."
"Alone," he suggested.
"Yes, alone!" she said sharply. She was sorry immediately,
because she knew she was just punishing him for trying to talk sense to
her. She wondered how she'd gotten so jaded ... where the cruel
streak had come from that she'd just drawn on. The look on
his face, though, penetrated her to the core. She'd
sensed before that he was one of those "special men", but now it was
clear. She couldn't let her passion, or her anger, or
anything else ruin the possibility that something good might come of
all this.
"However," she said, stridently. He had looked away, and his eyes
came back to hers. "I want to talk more at breakfast."
His smile made her belly warm.
"Deal," he said, his hand twitching, as if he wanted to reach for her.
After dinner, she walked him to his room.
"One kiss couldn't hurt that much ... could it?" she asked, taking his hand.
"You really have no idea how I feel right now ... do you?" he asked in return.
She raised an eyebrow.
"I'm with the woman of my dreams ... literally. She seems to be
actually interested in me." There was wonder in his
voice. "I'm insane enough to have turned that woman down,
and now she wants to kiss me." His hand trembled in hers.
"You asked me to think about what you said," said Tiffany, her voice
low. "I'm going to do that. All I'm asking for is
one, little kiss. I just want you to have something to think
about too ... that's all."
"Oh," he laughed. It was hysterical laughter, and it exploded out
of his mouth. "I have plenty to think about ... believe me!"
"I'm going to kiss you now, Chuck," she said softly. "I'm not the
woman of your dreams. I'm just a woman named Tiffany.
After I kiss you, you're going to your room, and I'm going to
mine. I had a good time today ... mostly," she smiled, "and
that's all this kiss is for ... to thank you for a good time ...
mostly."
She put her arms around him, in part because she was afraid he might
bolt. Her surprise, when his arms crushed her to him, and
she felt his hungry lips on hers, almost scared her. She
felt her breasts flatten against his chest, and smelled the after shave
he'd put on. He must have shaved before supper, she thought to
herself, for his cheeks and chin to be this smooth. One of
his hands slid down her back, almost to her buttocks. As she
kissed him back, her passion flaming again, she wished his hand would
keep going, but it didn't. She could feel the strength in
his embrace ... the desire for her that transmitted itself through his
touch. She knew without a doubt that he wanted her, and
that made her feel like something precious, because he was denying
himself that pleasure. Her tongue probed for his, darting between
his lips, and she pushed at his chest. His grip loosened
very slowly, as they stared into each other's eyes. She pushed
again, more to separate herself from him, than to separate him from
her. She wanted him badly, but now, understanding how he felt,
she knew too that it wouldn't work. Not now.
