Dare he ask her? Wouldn't she look at him in shock or horror, or both, and then just get up and leave? Or wouldn't she tell him she never wanted to see him again? Wouldn't she ask him if that was all he cared about? Wouldn't she carry on about how she had thought he had his mind on more important, intellectual things? Wouldn't she stop listening to anything else he had to say? Wouldn't she refuse to let him touch her ever again? Wouldn't she --
What he really wanted to know was, would she? Would she have sex with him? He didn't know how to ask her. He didn't know if he should ask at all. They hadn't done much at all yet, because he'd been afraid that if he started going too far she'd freak out and accuse him of trying to rape her.
He didn't doubt that if he told anyone about his fear he would be laughed at. "Oh sure, Mark, as if slipping your hand into her underwear is going too far!" He could almost hear the sarcastic laughter, feel the verbal abuse he'd suffer, taste the bitter flavour of embarrassment on his tongue.
But she's different, she may think it's going too far, he'd want to say, but wouldn't.
He supposed he could do it indirectly. Ask her what her views were about sex. Ask her how far it was all right to go. She did like him to talk to her after all and to tell her whatever he wanted to. But he wasn't used to doing that. He was used to staying really quiet, just watching and listening, thinking about things he could have said, but very rarely ever saying them. And when he did say them, he'd be blushing, or feeling hot in the face anyway. And no one ever looked really impressed or anything. They just looked surprised that he had said anything at all and then tried to recover for the next ten minutes.
He was her boyfriend, but he still didn't tell her all that much. He supposed he was still amazed that she was his girlfriend. But then she had asked him out. He'd thought she was beautiful and deep and funny and smart and that she cared about his feelings, so he'd said yes. The whole thing had come as a shock.
They'd known each other only three weeks as friends before they had become a couple, although he had fantasized about her from the first day that they had met. Not the first moment because she had been dressed up as a gremlin for a fancy dress party at the time and not a very good looking one either. His brother had turned nineteen and had wanted a fancy dress party to celebrate. It wasn't something Mark would have done for his nineteenth birthday or his ninth or nintieth for that matter. Anyway it had taken place in their house and Mark had been there too only because his parents had insisted that he should not let his little brother down. "He was at your nineteenth birthday!" his mother had said, when he mentioned (after a prompt of course) that he'd be going over to a friend's house to help him paint his bedroom walls instead of going to the party. He'd wanted to tell his mother, "Well, that was only because he's a pig and wanted to scoff all the food", but he didn't say a word.
However, Mark had refused to dress up. "You could at least wear something other than jeans for a change," his father, dressed up as Krusty the Clown had grumbled, a large painted, annoying grin contrasting with the deep frown on his forehead. Quite a good impression of Krusty in that case. His mother, a butternut squash for the day, had given up on him by that stage.
After the party, Dale - his brother - intended to go out drinking and a few of his friends had planned to join him. The gremlin, who introduced herself to Mark as Jill Louise Vanessa Harris, had asked Mark, "May I please undress in your room?" She'd wanted to change into clothes suitable for going to a pub or club, but Mark hadn't realised it at first. He'd stared at the creature before him and tried to find something to say.
"I can't really change anywhere else. All the other rooms seem to be occupied and I don't like people seeing me naked."
"Er..."
"You are Mark Stuart, Dale's twenty-two-year-old brother, aren't you?"
"Mark. Yes. I hate the name 'Stuart'."
"Would you mind if I used your room then, Mark? I won't leave it a mess or anything. I'll put my costume into a packet, so none of the goo will get onto your carpet."
"Go ahead."
"Thanks. Are you coming out with us?"
"Me?"
"No, Hugh, the guy behind you. Of course I meant you."
"I don't think so. I don't generally go anywhere with Dale. We don't really get along."
"I'd better get out of this costume. I don't think they'll wait for me if I look like this in five minutes. And I think you should come along, Mark. I haven't seen you smile all evening."
"What makes you think I'll be any different if I go out?" He'd been shocked by her. She was so straightforward and he wasn't used to being talked to for such long periods of time. One minute usually did the trick.
"I'm not thinking anything of the sort!" With that she plodded to his room, looking very comical in her green and brown knobbly costume.
Mark had shook his head, feeling slightly dazed, unable to believe that so much talking had not caused him to pass out. He sat down on the couch and observed people coming out of rooms transformed. Some were complaining about make up that wouldn't come off and others about not being able to get their hair to come right after what they had done to it for their costumes. Generally they didn't appear to be seriously bothered however.
Mark's parents had decided that they were ready for bed and had retired to their room which had its own en suite bathroom or whatever it was called.
"Are you sure you won't come out with us?" Dale asked Mark, as he walked past behind the couch. It annoyed Mark when he said something like that as if he'd invited him out previously and had been turned down. He said it as if it was so predictable that Mark wouldn't want to go out. And as if thought Mark a complete washout because of that.
"Mark's going to watch a movie with me."
A female voice. Who'd said that!? Mark remembered not being able to turn around quickly enough to see who had said it. For some reason he hadn't immediately realised that it had been Jill. And when he looked at her, Dale was saying something about hoping Jill was joking. He could hardly believe the person he was looking at had been the ugly gremlin from the fancy dress.
"Who's joking? We're going, aren't we, Mark?"
"If it doesn't spoil your birthday, Dale," Mark had said, wondering how much of the sarcasm had materialised in his voice. And he stood up, looking at Jill who appeared to be very pleased.
"Oh no, of course not," Dale had rattled off and then he turned around and rounded up everyone else.
Nothing physically intimate had happened between them for the following three weeks, they hadn't said anything romantically inclined to one another. In fact Mark had said very little and had made sure he didn't touch her for fear of her thinking he was harassing her. And then she'd said she wanted to be his girlfriend.
"Yes."
"Yes what?"
"Yes, I'd like that," he'd stammered.
Since then they'd kissed. She'd been better at it. Now he hoped that he at least was okay. She didn't appear to have a problem with the way he kissed because she kissed him almost all the time. They'd held each other and he'd even pressed himself against her although his heart had been pounding at the time with fear. It had almost taken the pleasure out of it because he was almost certain she would knee him for it. But he was sure she'd loved it. After all she'd moaned and he'd become extremely aroused. The last time they'd been together she had taken his top off and kissed his chest all over and even went down as far as his belly button. His heart had been racing and he wanted so much to take off her shirt and everything else for that matter. Instead he'd said, "Isn't it time for the X Files on TV?"
"Oh! You're right. Gosh Mark, if it hadn't been for you I would have missed it. You're one in a zillion!" And she'd kissed him hard on the lips, hopped up and gone to the sitting room. Pulling his shirt back on, he'd cursed himself.
He didn't even know what the furthest was she had ever gone with a guy. Perhaps she had even had sex before. He hoped not, but he supposed it was unfair to hope it.
Sitting in the little cafe, sipping coffee and waiting for her to arrive, he sighed. How would he ever get over his paranoia?
"Mark, wake up, he llo!" It was her, she'd arrived and was trying to get him out of dreamland.
"Jill, hi!" He was so happy to see her radiant face. Yet she looked a little worried. She leaned down before he could stand up and gave him a kiss. He was surprised that it was such a brief one. It's not as if she minded kissing in public places. She thrived on it, in fact. Then she sat down opposite him and ordered a Dom Pedro since the waiter had already come to take her order.
"Mark, are you all right? You look a little pale," she said, her large round chocolate eyes searching his face.
"I'm fine. It's a little cold today that's all."
"I'll have to warm you up then." She smiled at him.
"How will you do that?" he ventured, unable to help himself from returning the smile.
"How much of yourself would you liked to have warmed up?" She had a really mischievous curve to her smile.
"All."
She sighed. And he suddenly felt panicky, thinking he'd gone too far and that she realised that he had been thinking of being inside her, warm and ecstatic. "Mark, we have to talk..."
"That's what we're doing, isn't it?" He swallowed and his palms felt sweaty.
"About us, I mean."
"What about us?"
"Is there something you don't like about me?"
"No. Why would you think that? Is there something you don't like about me, so you're hoping I dislike something about you so that breaking up with me won't be so hard on me?"
"Mark, calm down. You're speaking so fast! You are allowed to take breaths between clauses you know."
"I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"Me too. Listen, I don't want to break up with you, but..."
"What?"
"Things don't seem to be going all that well in some areas."
"It's when we kiss and stuff isn't it?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry. Have I been pushing it a bit too much?" No obscene pun intended, he thought, inwardly scowling at himself.
"I'm actually really self conscious about my body, Mark, and you haven't really been helping to make me feel better about myself."
"What are you saying?"
"I want to be able to know that you'd like to see me naked."
"One Dom Pedro."
Mark realised that there was at least a third person in the world and he blushed because he thought that the waiter must have heard Jill's comment, but only while Jill was thanking the waiter did what she had said really sink in. "Jill, I don't really know what to say."
"Do I turn you off or something? That can't be true because you get so hard..."
Blush, blush, blusheroonie. "You don't. I really would love to see you... without your clothes, Jill."
"Really?"
"Yes. More than almost anything else."
"What do you want more than that?"
"I don't know." Liar, you want to have sex with her.
"Well I'll tell you what I want more than anything!" She had her eyes fixed on his and he knew that he dare not look down. "I want you to make love to me."
Yes! And I didn't even have to ask her, he thought. Out loud he said, "Me too, but I wasn't sure if gremlins could have sex."
She laughed and said he was more of a beast than a gremlin was, and then reminded him that although gremlins did not exactly have sex as such they procreated when they got wet.
It was his turn to laugh, and then he said, "Listen, I don't think I'm into the procreation bit just yet though."
"Me neither, so I suppose we'll have to do something about that before we take the plunge, so to speak."
He grinned. It was really so comforting talking to Jill about sex, about just anything. He could feel that he was more relaxed than he had ever been in his life. "I'm sure we'll be able to work something out." He held her hands tightly over the little table and sighed contentedly as she smiled into his eyes.
Return to Story menu