Then She Winked At Me

Trays clattered and voices echoed and people rushed through the high school cafeteria. Then Madi Curtis winked at me and the world stood still. A senior with mile-long legs, captain of the swim team, skin so tight it squeaked–smiling and winking at me?

Madi lived on Olympus with the other Gods and seniors. It would be sacrilegious for a 10th grader to have impure thoughts about any upperclasswoman. I stared as she approached. She tapped her fingertips on my table and gave me a smile and kept going. My body twisted all the way around until I nearly fell off the seat.

What the hell did that mean?

Maybe she’s congratulating me because I’d scored a huge goal in the final seconds to keep our school in the state championships.

I knew I was gay. But at that age, I didn’t want to be. If you wanted to fit in, you wore the right fashions, listened to the right music, plastered on the right makeup, quoted Camus like you’d read him. You didn’t cream your panties when a girl winked at you.

My first serious sexual encounter with a boy required so much effort that I figured getting drunk would help. But it didn’t. One time, I got all the way to third base with a guy without puking. I began to believe I could do it if I tried hard enough. But then Madi winked at me.

On the rare occasions when I saw her on campus, I blushed, my heart raced, sweat formed in conspicuous places. But she always looked away. By May, I decided maybe she’d had something in her eye.

That summer, I tried to teach soccer at the local summer camp. Madi coached swimming. The soccer pitch backed up to the twelve-foot fence surrounding the pool. One day I launched a ball over the net, over the fence, and into the pool. Intentional? Maybe. Probably.

Madi fished it out and met me at the fence. She had sparkling eyes, a broad smile, and packed some hard nipples into a tight one-piece.

“Want to go to Wilson’s party?” she asked.

“Uuhh.”

One ugly syllable was all I could get out. I felt the blush flowing up my neck, I nodded, grabbed the ball, and ran away.

Nothing in Common

My gut twisted around like a washing machine agitator when Madi picked me up that night. We attempted conversation in brief sentences with monosyllabic answers. We had traveled in different circles and played in physically opposite sports. Nothing in common.

Fifty cars lined Wilson’s street. A few teenagers milled about the front yard while a multitude partied in back. We parked at the curb two blocks away. She turned the motor off and sat with her hands tense and white-knuckled on the steering wheel. After an awkward minute, we got out and walked toward the party.

She stopped and looked into my eyes. A street lamp lit her in stark contrast, the right half of her face in light. Big, sweet, pillowy lips. Big brown eyes. She was so beautiful I wanted to cry.

“I’m not good at parties. And um…” She tried to add words but nothing came out. She looked away. Two kids shuffled by on their way to Wilson’s with a twelve-pack of cheap beer.

“I’m good at parties. I can talk…” I had no idea where that sentence was going. What? I could introduce her to seniors I’d never met? Stupid thing to say. Stupid. Stupid.

“That’s not what I mean.” She turned away from me and leaned against an oak. “You go to a party, you meet someone, you kiss, right?” I nodded. “But first you smoke weed, you drink beer. I don’t like that. I don’t want to kiss Miller Lite.”

My heart revved up like a vibrator. My breathing became a series of exhales. I was scared because the party and my fantasy were slipping away like a leaf on a breeze. She looked at me again.

“I don’t want to kiss someone because I got stoned and fell into it by accident. Just some meaningless…” She looked away. Her words formed a harmony in my soul. Madi Curtis had winked at me and asked me to a party. She would never be any closer and soon she would be far away at college.

I’d once flown to Rome sitting next to an English guy who had a patch on his uniform, “Who Dares Wins.”

Suddenly, I wasn’t scared anymore. I was angry. I was done photoshopping my life into someone else’s happy-picture. I would no longer take less than what I wanted. I felt like I was standing on a flagpole, losing my balance would bring disaster. I was leaning into her space. She had her back to the tree. I moved in until our noses touched.

“What’re you doing?” Her eyes opened wide, her voice shook.

Madi put her hands out like a mime in a glass box. I grabbed her wrists and pushed her hands behind her back and pressed hard against her body.

“You’re irresistible and you’re going away in a few weeks–I have to know.”

I planted my lips on hers. Her tongue shot into my mouth. She wrapped her legs around me. Her hands slipped around my face, holding me captive in our kiss. Finally, we needed air.

“Damn,” she said smacking her lips, “I never knew a white girl could kiss like that.”

I dove back in. Ten minutes later, our hair and clothes tousled, we gazed into each other’s eyes. She said, “My parents are out of town.”

Intentional Sex

We raced through the city, two transformed souls now laughing and talking a thousand words a minute. At her place, we cuddled, taking off one bit of clothing at a time and playing with the exposed skin. She touched and caressed my body until every square inch of my skin tingled. When we were finally naked, she lay on top of me and rubbed her beautiful breasts against mine.

“How did you make such a bold move?” she asked.

“I’ve wanted you, mind, body, and soul since you winked at me. You said you wanted a kiss on purpose and not by accident.”

“Put one knee on either side of my face, and look at me the whole time.”

Her tongue sent electric shock waves from the sphincter of my ass, through my lips, up my cunt, all the way into my ovaries. I rode her, lifting away when she became too intense, and pressing down when I was ready for more. Guys always have some stubble that scratches in tender places but Madi was smoother than silk and knew what she was doing.

I built up a wave of pleasure inside me that I feared would make me explode. Grinding and riding her face from her first light probe, through her intense lip-sucks, to her last slashing clit-flicks was more pleasure than I thought possible in life. We kept our eyes locked from beginning to end. Even when I felt myself falling into the abyss of orgasm, I couldn’t look away. I felt powerful, in complete control of my sexuality, and therefore in control of my destiny.

We were lovers and best friends for the rest of that summer. We’re still the best of friends and see each other on holidays when we visit our home town.

Too many people wait for someone else to bring their fantasies to life. Madi taught me not to wait. As a junior, I started hitting on beautiful women, gay or straight, tying them up and making them do nasty things they’d only read about in books but ended up loving like a drug in real life.

Sex is not something to watch or read, it’s something that requires courage and intention. When you take control of your sex life, everything else falls into place.

Ingrid Druslan is writer based in New York.

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