What Were They Thinking?
15 Consummation
I COULDN’T WAIT for my next date with Dave, though opportunities for unrushed intimacy are rare when you have a teen at home. Certainly, she had basketball practice every afternoon now and all four boys in the dating group were also on the team, but there was no mention of another overnight party and I just wasn’t comfortable with the message it would send if I spent the night at Dave’s or if I brought him home for the night. Nonetheless, we continued to date and he often joined Whitney and me for dinner on the weekend. I tried to establish a normal family pattern to get Whitney used to having him around and we would spend the evening watching a movie together.
I don’t know how we lasted two months without just ripping each other’s clothes off right there on the sofa. I was nearing the point of simply announcing to Whitney that Dave would be spending the night. Of course, Thanksgiving and Christmas added to the stress and the fight that occurred on the basketball court during the holiday tourney didn’t ease tensions. It wasn’t much of a fight. Whitney had been fouled. The next thing I knew, one of her teammates took a swing at the offender and laid him out. There were whistles, ejections, and warnings to both teams. Whitney confidently sank both her foul shots just before the end of the first half.
“I don’t understand what was going on out there,” I said as Dave drove us home from the game. “That boy is violent. He didn’t want Whitney on the team in the first place. I thought they had a truce of some sort the past few games but I don’t understand why he’d just punch out a player on the court. I don’t think Whitney was involved but it happened right after that foul. Basketball is too rough a sport. It was one thing when she was just going to camp. Playing on a boys’ team wasn’t such a great idea. I’m going to pull her from the team. I can’t have her around that kind of activity.”
I was venting, rambling, and just letting my mouth run as we drove from Warsaw back to Mishawaka to meet the team bus and take my daughter home. And the team was laughing and high-fiving each other as they got off the bus. I saw the boy who’d hit another slap hands with Whitney and the other boys of the dating group. When she got in the car, I started in immediately in spite of Dave trying to calm me.
“I don’t like you involved in something like this, Whitney. You could have gotten seriously hurt out there. I think you should stop playing basketball,” I started. She groaned. “I’m serious, Whitney. Playing a boys’ sport is too dangerous.”
“Mother, Master Cho hits me a lot harder than that kid did on the foul. Lots!” That was not comforting.
“He was much bigger than you. Master Cho is an expert, but he’s smaller than you are now. That boy could have gotten you into a brawl. What would happen if you were forced to use your arts on the court?”
“Josh? Mom…” Whitney uncharacteristically started giggling.
“Exactly what is so funny?”
“Um… Josh was defending my honor. It was so chivalrous. I’m only sorry it earned him a two-game suspension.”
“Still…”
“Anyway, Mom, there’s going to be a big New Year’s Eve party at Hannah’s house. Parents are all going to be invited to a grown-up party at the same time. You and Dave will get a chance to meet everyone. Then Brenda is having some of us over to her house for the night. Just girls, so don’t panic. I was just thinking that maybe you’d like a little private time of your own after the party, you know? I bet I could stay over on New Year’s Day with Brenda, too. We won’t have practice again until school starts on the following Monday. And Merry Christmas, everyone. Are we all going to do something special? You’re going to be with us on Christmas, aren’t you, Dave? I got you a present. Rose’s birthday is tomorrow. I’d like to go see her. The guys are all getting together Monday just to shoot some hoops. Remember last year when we went to Chicago before Christmas? That was really fun. I’d like to do it again. Will you guys have any extra time off? I suppose we could wait for the weekend, but it’s always more fun if we do it before Christmas. I know! Maybe I could get Brian to come with us! We could, like, double-date. What do you think, Mom?”
When my daughter’s motor starts running, there is no shutting it off. Suddenly, the conversation was no longer about her quitting basketball, but whether I’d be willing to transport her and her boyfriend across a state line to do Christmas shopping in Chicago.
“Dave, honey, as much as I feel like my daughter is arranging things for us, I can’t help but feel like this is the opportunity we’ve… I’ve been waiting for. Will you please plan to spend the night with me New Year’s Eve? And the next night?”
“Jan, you know how much I love you and I want you. I’ve been happier this fall than ever in my life. My answer is yes.”
And that is how we waved goodbye to Whitney at the Gordons’ house when she got in Brenda’s car and drove home together to spend the night. Our first night together.
I’d felt intensely wicked when I stopped at Walgreen’s to get contraceptive foam, condoms, lubricant, and vaginal wipes. I was nervous all day long, constantly afraid that something might happen and Whitney would discover my secret stash. This was definitely outside my comfort zone. I didn’t want to set a bad example for my daughter. But even she recognized the love Dave and I felt for each other.
For his part, Dave was a dear. We took his big car to Chicago on Tuesday with Brian and Whitney in the back seat. They were cute. I glanced over at Dave, two inches shorter than me and then back at Brian, at least half a foot shorter than my daughter. They didn’t have any difficulty with the difference in heights and remembering how poorly my marriage to a man taller than me had gone, I was glad Whitney was confident enough in herself to date a shorter man.
“Are your intentions toward my daughter honorable, young man?” I asked as we stopped in front of one of the mechanical displays at Marshall Field’s. We were doing different shifts so that each of us got to know the others better. Whitney was off with Dave to help him pick out the perfect present for me while I strolled down State Street accompanied by her young man.
“You know, Mrs. Anderson, it’s really too soon for me to have any intentions. I’m only fifteen and Whitney is only fourteen. Everything is a possibility but not an inevitability.” This kid could talk better than any teen I’d ever met. I understood he’d been the principal architect of the dating agreement. “I can tell you this. I love playing basketball with Whitney. I love having come to Chicago for this little outing and that she wanted me with her. I love holding her hand when we get a chance. I’m hoping she’ll let me give her just a little kiss when you drop me off at home tonight. Are all those things honorable? I think so. I guess my intention is to be Whitney’s friend for many years. I’m not going to do anything that would make that impossible.”
“Are you planning to charm the pants off all the mothers of your girlfriends or is that an honor you reserve only for those who are taller than you?” I laughed. He gulped and glanced down at my slacks. I was sure he breathed a sigh of relief to see they weren’t around my ankles.
“I hope you’re speaking metaphorically,” he said. “Nearly all the moms are taller than me!”
“I’m pretty tired after that party,” I said. “I want to keep kissing and… do everything, love. I’m just afraid I’ll fall asleep on you.”
“Please do,” Dave said softly. “Please cuddle close and fall asleep on me. Maybe tomorrow we’ll be up for more.”
We went to bed, a little embarrassed to be sharing such an intimate space. I wore a silk nightgown purchased specifically for the occasion. It was opaque, so I wasn’t exactly advertising, but after looking at myself in the bathroom mirror for a couple of minutes, I took it off, removed my bra and panties, and slipped the gown on again. I wasn’t kidding myself. I might be too tired tonight—or this morning, as it was already past one-thirty—but I had every intention of giving Dave access to my body. I wasn’t going to make it difficult on him.
Dave came out of the bathroom after his turn in cotton pajama bottoms and a crisp white T-shirt. It had to be new. I could still see the creases where it had been folded in the package. I held the blanket up and invited him to slip into bed beside me.
“I… took off my makeup,” I said. “I can’t sleep in it. I hope I don’t gross you out.” I realized that in my professional life and on all our dates I’d worn eyeliner, mascara, foundation, and lipstick. When we went someplace fancy, I included blush and darkened my eyebrows. I’d been pretty dolled up for the party but if I’d slept in it, I’d be a mess in the morning.
“Jan, I think you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. I appreciate the extra care you take when we go out, but I’d look into your eyes and love you no matter what kind of makeup you did or didn’t wear,” he said. What a sweet talker. We kissed but true to our expectations, I cuddled up next to him and went to sleep on his shoulder. It was the first time I’d slept with a man since Whitney and I fled New Jersey.
It was a strange experience to wake up with the nighttime scent of a man pressed against my face. I tested my memories and couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept like this that wasn’t accompanied by the odor of cigarettes and booze seeping from Derek’s pores. I inhaled deeply and, just from that scent, could feel parts of my body tingling. I was in bed having slept the night with Dave—soon to be my lover. He must have felt me stirring because his eyes opened and he smiled, keeping his mouth closed.
I pecked him on the lips.
“I need to freshen a bit before I can give you a real kiss,” I said. I pulled myself away to get out of bed.
“Me, too,” he breathed at last. “I didn’t want to frighten you away with dragon breath.”
“I’ll be out in a flash.”
We both finished our morning toilet and met each other with minty fresh breath for a long, deep kiss.
“Do you need coffee in order to get started in the morning?” I whispered.
“I think I have all the stimulant I need in my arms,” he responded.
“Then let’s return to bed.”
We didn’t rush. Being fresh and rested, though, we were both even more aware of the level of excitement between us. We kissed and I felt the excitement pierce through my nipples as the silk of my nightgown rubbed between them and his fingers. When one hand slid down my side, I suddenly wished I’d worn much shorter sleepwear. I pushed at Dave’s T-shirt and lifted it over his head, sprinkling a few well-place kisses across his chest. He’d been doing such a good job stimulating my nipples, I made sure to return the favor. I felt my nightgown being tugged up, sliding between my skin and the bed. I lifted my arms and, in a moment, I was naked. Naked in bed with a man. The very thought of my situation was enough to cause the heat to build between my legs, but the feel of my naked breasts moving against the skin of his chest excited me past anything I’d ever felt. I remembered this—remembered my husband exciting me this way when we first made love. Even then, I’d argued with myself about whether this was really what I wanted. With Dave, that doubt disappeared with his first kiss.
I pushed at his pajama bottoms, pulling the elastic waistband out to free his erection. He kicked them off and we lay with the full length of our naked bodies against each other. I could feel the hot bar of steel at his center pressed against my stomach. When I shifted my hips, I could feel his balls move against my pubic mound. He slid down my body until he could kiss my nipples. He gently tugged each one in turn between his lips, laving them with his tongue. I was lost. My body was on fire. His hand made its way down my body and I willingly parted my legs so he could touch me through my thatch of short dark hair.
As soon as he touched me, he lit a fuse that would ignite an explosion. No one. Had ever. Touched me. Like this. His finger slid through my wet folds and found my clitoris—something that Derek had never managed nor cared enough to do. I dug my fingers into his shoulder blades, trying desperately not to scratch with my nails. He followed my signal and lifted his face from my breasts to kiss me.
And the explosion came. I filled his mouth with my moaning and lost myself in his touch. Considerate of my increasing sensitivity, he lightened his pressure and then removed his hand from between my legs. I reached for his erection and gently stroked it.
“In the drawer beside you,” I whispered. “Condoms and foam.” He reached for the items and while he put a condom on, I filled my vagina with foam. “Come to me, lover. Fill me.”
Feeling his thick penis part the folds of my labia and push into my vagina was almost enough to set me off again. He backed away and pushed again. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered how long he was because it was taking forever to get him all the way in. I thrust my hips up to meet his as our pubic bones came together and he ground lightly against my clitoris. He pulled back and thrust again. And again. My body was filled with the tingling sensations that presaged another climax. I’d had no preconception about climaxing during intercourse. It had never happened before. But Dave continued his slow penetrating thrusts and grinding against my clit until nothing could stop the burst of pleasure that washed over me and I cried out. When I did, he thrust himself as deeply in me as he could and moaned out his own orgasm.
We made good use of our New Year’s Day together. We weren’t teenagers. We couldn’t make love all the time. We fixed a nice but very late breakfast. We drank coffee in the family room. We watched the Rose Parade and kept the television on pretending to watch the football game as Arizona State defeated our Big 10 Michigan Wolverines. We had to watch the news later in the evening to find out what the score was.
And Whitney called early in the afternoon to tell me everything was fine and she was spending another night at Brenda’s house with Rhiannon, Liz, and Samantha. Those five had been almost inseparable since fifth grade.
“Are you okay, Mommy?” My sweet daughter. She knew how important this night was.
“I’m fine. Thank you so much for letting me be free to do this.”
“I love you, Mommy. I told Dave when we were in Chicago that it was okay. He was really worried.”
“It didn’t show today.”
“Good. Mommy, just so you know, I’m not afraid of Dave. I’ve known him ever since we moved to Mishawaka. I’m happy if he makes you happy.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. You can’t imagine how much that means to me.” After her call, I crushed Dave to me in a kiss and we made love again.
Whitney seemed to have any number of events that spring that kept her overnight at a friend’s house. In addition to that, Dave and I were no longer so hesitant to take advantage of a couple of stolen hours when she was on her own dates or away at a tournament.
Not that all we did was make love, but we took advantage of time that was given to us. When Whitney finally got her first period, just before she turned fifteen, we both went to a gynecologist and had a long discussion about birth control. There weren’t too many options available and Whitney insisted she wouldn’t need to worry for a long time yet but we finally agreed that it would be better if her body got used to the regularity and changes that would occur all at once over the summer instead of trying to guess when she would be ready to become seriously involved with a boy and start things up then. We both started on the pill.
When Whitney left for basketball camp that summer, Dave moved in with me. We agreed this was temporary and it was not a good thing for an unmarried couple to live with a teenage daughter. Dave was so proper in some ways and so incredibly lascivious in others. We talked about marriage but I simply wasn’t sure about having a man in the house with us full time. We had never spent the night together when Whitney was home.
It was a summer dream. Dave and I became truly comfortable with each other. It was difficult when Whitney returned from basketball camp and Dave moved back to his own house. But it was also liberating. Why we had never considered the possibility of simply going to his house for our moments of intimacy is still a mystery to me. Whitney was fifteen now and I was confident that she was responsible enough to spend a night alone at home without getting into trouble. I foresaw a few nights when we would simply go out and then go to Dave’s house to make love before I returned home. Sometimes the next morning.
It was the unexpected conference with Master Cho that changed my outlook on life.
“It is time for Whitney to take a disciple,” he said in his soft voice.
“A disciple?”
“There comes a time when a student must teach.” I was struck by how much better his English had become over the nearly eight years that we had known the unassuming master of Chinese martial arts.
“It seems like such a big responsibility,” I sighed. “Will she teach here?” Master Cho had finally opened his own Tai Chi studio and was teaching regular classes. I didn’t think Whitney’s special status as his disciple was generally known, however.
“A student must not be confused regarding who is the master,” he said. “He or she must not receive an instruction from her master and look to another to see if it is okay.”
“How will you find a student… er… disciple?” I asked.
“Honored mother,” she began. This was not her confident self, discussing a new curfew or thing she wanted to do. The advent of her womanhood this spring had brought other changes to my daughter. She was addressing me with Chinese-influenced respect and I knew that what she was about to say came from a Kung Fu master, not my teenage daughter. “I have already chosen my disciple. If you will agree to picking me up at Brian’s house for school each morning, I will train him at his home.”
“Brian? He’s so… small.”
“That is more the reason that he should become my disciple.”
I sighed. And nodded. My little girl was not only capable, but her Master was entrusting her with the training of another outside his sphere. I could only agree.
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