Small Town Girl

sometime since he'd pulled her around to face him.

What they had imagined, they brought to life. Her head nestled against his shoulder and his arms crossed her back while the kiss continued as if the wedding dance and all those left behind did not exist. Their lips got wet and their breath got short and the back of her dress got twisted beneath his hands.

She doubled her arms around his neck and he lifted her free of the earth, held her fast against him with the kiss still unbroken. Like a key in a lock he swung his head the other way and carried her across the grass to the blackest shadow next to the back steps. There, beside the crickets and the hydrangea bushes, they kissed some more, first with her shoulder blades against the wall, then with his.

It was better, though, with her against the wall. He was stronger, could exert more pressure, so they rolled to reverse positions, his hips pinning her in place. Once he put his hands against the house, bent low and ran his mouth over her collarbones, then up to her ear before the kiss resumed, mouth to mouth. And once she put her hands inside his suit coat and felt his warm back, and let her nails mark it through the white cotton. He shivered and undulated against her, full length, one time only, and made a sound against her lips.

Then he dragged her backward with him onto the grass, and fell, carrying her along onto the cool soft turf and made a cradle of his legs where she lay upon him in the starlight. Her hair tumbled and covered his face, and he held it back as he rolled her over and lay half on lop of her with his hand just below her left breast. He might have covered it. and she might have let him, but by some unspoken compact they had come to understand that kissing was all they'd allow tonight. But kissing-maximized by moonlight and movement-would be thrill enough. They would use it and wring from it every pleasure they had imagined, and revel in temptation for temptation's sake. With open mouths and straining bodies they trod that delicate balance where indulgence and suppression vie for the upper hand. And when indulgence threatened to win and carry them beyond a state of grace, he fell to his back on the grass beside her. There they lay with cricket song pulsating in their ears.

It took a long time before either of them spoke. Finally he breathed, 'Whoa.'

'I'll say,' she managed. Her left arm was outflung, caught beneath his sleeve. She moved her thumb, just to keep the connection with him, scraping it across the fabric of his suit. She smiled to herself, then rolled her head to look at him.

'What do we think we're doing?'

He continued looking at the stars. 'I think they call it necking. It used to be popular back in the fifties.'

'I like it.'

'Me, too.'

She sat up, languid and liquid-limbed, and pushed her hair back and put her face to the sky.

He sat up, too, and they remained side by side, thinking about what they'd done, still enjoying the aftereffects that had changed the inner rhythms of their bodies.

'There'll probably be grass stains on your dress.'

'I'll have it dry cleaned.'

'But what about going back to the reception?'

'Funny thing… I really don't think I'm in the mood anymore.'

'Me, either.' He drew up his knees and draped his arms over them, bobbed his head forward and smoothed the back of his hair. She ran her hand down his near sleeve and over the back of his hand, and pushed her fingers between his, working them in his palm like a cat's paw in carpet.

'Hey, if we're going to do stuff like this I've got a right to know-do you and Faith sleep together?'

'Yes.'

Her fingers stopped working and she sat very still. Then she stretched out on her back again, linked her hands at her waist and crossed her ankles. Gazing at the stars, she said, 'Well, she's very lucky, I must say. I haven't been kissed that thoroughly since…'

'Since when?'

'I don't know. I don't make a practice of this.'

He stretched out on his side propping his head with one fist, and laid his spread hand in the center of her ribs with his thumb on the underside of her breast. 'Neither do I.'

She covered his hand with one of her own, enjoying the warmth of it through her clothing. 'Then why do you suppose we did it?'

'Look,' he said, 'I'm not married to Faith. I've had this thing for you since high school, and I wasn't going to pass up the chance. We both knew this was coming.'

'But she won't find out about it, will she?'

'No.'

'And neither will Casey.'

'No.'

'No reason for either of them to know because it's just a crazy fling. Lots of people probably have crazy flings at weddings.'

'Probably.' He moved his thumb, merely scratching the cloth of her dress.

She emptied her mind and reached up to riffle her fingertips through the hair at his temple. It was fine and short and slightly curled. She realized how much she missed having a man whose hair she could touch whenever she wanted to, who would kiss her and make her feel womanly and wanted for more than her talent as a singer. She pulled his head down and whispered, 'Then kiss me some more.'

He dipped his head and did as she asked, crooking a knee across her legs and staining one elbow of his suit jacket on the grass. Six minutes later, when they had tested their resistance again, he dragged his mouth away, deposited a parting kiss on her lower lip, then on her neck, then on her right breast, just one brief touch through her dress before drawing back to survey her face again.

'I think we have to get back to the dance now.'

'Mm…'

'If we don't it'll be all over and everyone will be asking why we never came back.'

She sighed and sat up with an effort, hands behind her like a girl on a beach towel. 'You're right.'

His pose curled him around her, his left arm caught over his updrawn knee, his other hand on the grass behind her stained skirt. It took only a turn of her head to put her lips next to his, to rub without kissing, suggesting further intimacy.

'But I don't want to,' she murmured, tasting his breath.

'Neither do I.'

They lingered, mouths scarcely brushing, his fingertips stroking her throat so faintly they might have been touching her, might not. 'But we have to. Come on.' He took her hand, pulled her to her feet and they paused on the grass they had flattened, shaking their clothes back into place. She brushed off her skirt, he unbuckled his belt and tucked in his shirt. He did not turn away while he did it, but let her watch as he ran his hands inside his trousers, then buckled up again.

When they were both back in order they imparted one last lazy kiss, standing close without caressing. It's been fun, the kiss said, and we won't ever forget it.

'I'll drive,' she said, and in very slow motion turned toward the car.

'You sure?'

'Yes. I'm perfectly sober now.'

The speed of their footfalls slowed with each step that took them closer to parting. The car doors sounded like explosions in the quiet night, and the engine, when Tess started it, like thunder.

Kenny glanced beyond her to Mary's dark house. 'Your mother is probably wondering why we're just getting going.'

'My mother is probably asleep.'

They wondered about it though as they drove back out to Current River Cove, wondered about the future when Tess would be back in Nashville and Kenny would resume his life with Faith-would they look back upon this night and smile inwardly? When they were halfway to their destination Tess said without preamble, 'When I get back to Nashville I have a date with my boyfriend, Burt. I figured that would do the trick.'

Kenny had slumped down in his seat and managed to get one long leg hitched over the other, his knee on the window ledge. He rolled his head to look at her. 'Do what trick?'

'Get you off my mind.'