Sandra

Chapter 8: the kiss

We were up on the top balcony heading back inside after admiring the view, when he said, "Sandra, I know that this is going to sound weird, but I have really enjoyed being with you, . . . I'd like to kiss you."

We were in shadow, nobody could see us unless they came outside near where we were. I didn't know what to do. I stood staring at the ground.

"Please, Sandy, may I kiss you."

"Oh," I gulped, still staring at the ground.

He gently lifted my chin and moved closer. His lips touched mine; I didn't respond or do anything, just stood there. He drew back and smiled, then his lips were on mine again. I felt his tongue seeking, exploring. Involuntarily, my lips parted and I felt his tongue caressing mine.

I gulped again, trying to breathe. The kiss continued; his arms were around my waist pulling me close. My arms went up around his neck.

The protests of the small sane voice in my head was quashed. This felt good. The kiss was now fervent.

Finally we broke and looked at each other in something like shock. I heard myself say desperately, "Owen, I'm only thirteen."

He was breathing heavily, as was I, "Then I'm glad to have been the first to kiss you."

We stood with our arms around each other for a few more moments, then Owen murmured, "We'd better go back."

We took the long way, trying to give ourselves time to calm down.

The guests departed; a bit more cleaning up and things were pretty much in order.

I was helping Deirdre up the stairs - we two young ones had been sent to bed. Deirdre drew me into her room and closed the door; she kept hold of my arm. We sat on her bed.

"What happened?" she asked quietly.

I wasn't going to pretend that I didn't know what she meant, "Oh, Dee, don't tell me that everybody noticed . . ."

"I don't think so. I was looking out for you, so I could see that there was something odd with you and Owen."

"Oh, shit," I cried.

I didn't want to tell her, but felt compelled to do so, "We kissed," I gushed with a half sob.

"You kissed," Deirdre laughed.

"Yes, we kissed." I exploded, annoyed at her light-hearted reaction, "Tongues and all; arms around each other like we were a boy and girl getting all passionate."

"Is that all, though?" she asked still with a smile.

"All! Isn't that enough?" I was nearly shouting. "For Chry's sake, Deirdre. The first time I've kissed anyone properly and I kiss a bloody boy. What the hell was I thinking?"

Deirdre embraced me, "Calm down, Sandra. You're getting into a flap about it. It's not a big deal."

"Oh, gawd," I gasped feebly.

"Come on, there's the girl. Just relax. Put it down to an interesting experience; it doesn't have to mean anything particularly."

"Do you think so?" I asked hopefully.

"Of course. I wouldn't have minded kissing him; I reckon he was a bit of a stud."

"Deirdre, you're only twelve," I cried aghast.

"Oh, listen to the great big thirteen year old."

We laughed together. I felt better and went off to bed.