Then, she turns away from me, slips one arm out of the sleeve of her dress, then the other, and the garment billows the floor around her feet. She’s wearing seafoam green underwear, silk briefs. A white bra. She hesitates, and then reaches behind her back and unhooks the bra, slides it off, tosses it to the floor. For a moment, then, she just stands there. Contemplating turning around, maybe?
She doesn’t.
She shakes the rolled-up shirt out, sticks her hands through the sleeves, and then shrugs it on. The hem falls to her waist, leaving a slight gap of pale, freckled skin above the elastic of her underwear. It’s a tank top, deep blue, worn—a favorite item. She turns. Faces me.
Her legs are long and slender. The underwear cup her sex, and I force my eyes upward. Her nipples are hard, poking against the shirt.
She shifts her weight, and her arms cross around her middle—briefly, and then she drops them. Just stands there, as if inviting me to look at her. It strikes me that this moment is one of bravery, for her.
I can’t help but to rise to my feet, cross the small distance between us. Take her face in my hands, tilt her mouth to mine. Claim her lips in a kiss. Soft, slow.
“You’re beautiful, Jolene,” I whisper.
“When you look at me like that,” she breathes, “I feel…” she trails off, lets out a sharp breath. “I feel beautiful.”
“You should feel beautiful, because you are.”
She ducks her head. She’s shaking all over. “Thank you, Wes.”
“Why are you shaking?”
A lift of a shoulder. “I’m…I’m feeling all sorts of ways. It’s a lot and it’s confusing.”
“Tell me. Talk to me.”
She leans in against me, and I gather her close, arms around her, the top of her head fitting perfectly under my jaw. “I feel emotional—that this is real, that I’m here, with you. That you want to kiss me. That I get to be here with you, like this.” A quiet moment, just our not-quite synchronized breathing. “I also feel…” she trails off. “God, I don’t know how to say it.”
“However you want. However it’s true, whatever it is.”
She nuzzles closer. Her hands lock around my waist. She breathes in, as if to memorize my scent. “Physically, I feel…” Another shrug, a gesture of helplessness to find the right words. “A lot.”
“Like what, Jo? Don’t…don’t feel embarrassed. We can talk about things.”
She doesn’t reply for a moment. “Okay, well…god, it’s so many things. I was this close to turning around, earlier. Just to…to…I don’t even know. See what it felt like to be…naked. With someone. With you. Or, not all the way naked, obviously, but nearly. But I chickened out. I was too scared.”
“Of what?”
She huffs a laugh. “Of being topless in front of you? It’s embarrassing.”
I tilt her head up to look at me. “Why is it embarrassing?”
She’s crimson. “Wes, come on.”
“What?”
“Do I have to say it?”
I shake my head. “You don’t have to say anything, Jo.”
Another huff. She tucks her chin down again. Resumes nuzzling against my chest. “I’m skinny. And flat. I’m not…” a sigh, trailing into silence. “I’m nothing like Alessa Howell. One of her boobs is probably bigger than both of mine put together.”
I can’t help a snort. “Jo…” I sigh. “I’m laughing because that was a funny turn of phrase. I’m not laughing at how you feel.” I hunt for the right way to reassure her. “I’m not comparing.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“Because…” I can hear her jaw grinding. “Because I don’t feel—because I’m worried you’ll…”
“What, Jo?”
“I just feel like you won’t like how I look. Naked, I mean. Sure, maybe you think I have a beautiful face. Beautiful eyes, a beautiful soul. All that. But that’s not…it doesn’t change the fact that I have all the curves of a stick bug.”
“You said that when I looked at you, you felt beautiful.”
A nod.
“I don’t know to…how to navigate this, Jo. I don’t want to rush you or push you, or make you feel pressured or objectified or…any of that. But I also do want you to feel beautiful and…and desired.” I touch her chin. “Because you are, Jolene.”
“I am what?”
“Desired.”
“Oh.”
“All of you.” I let my hands skate down over her arms. I put my hands on her hips, at her waist. Just hold her like that. Let her feel my touch somewhere other than hands and face. “Not just your eyes or your face or your soul. All of you.”
She turns her face up to mine. Her hands rest on my shoulders. “It might take some repeating of this conversation for me to really start feeling it as the truth. Just FYI.”
“That’s fine. I’ll repeat it as much as possible.”
“The other thing is, when we kiss…I feel it.” She licks her lips. “I mean, when we kiss, my insecurities fade. You kiss me and I feel beautiful. And honestly, that’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt.”
I could tell her a lot of things that would be true—that there’s so, so much more to sensuality and beauty and sexuality than your body measurements; that desire isn’t logical; that attraction is complex and simple all at once.
In the end, though, the most effective thing seems to be to just kiss her.
She’s pressed flat up against me, and I touch her chin with a finger. Her lips part, and a breath escapes her, and then she lifts up on her toes and kisses me first. Her hands bury into my hair. Her lips seek mine, strong and warm and wet and insistent.
This time, she’s not kissing me to feel the kiss. She’s kissing me to explore the limits of the kiss. To seek the feeling of being desired. I feel my nerves singing—I want her, I really do, but I’m worried about taking it too far too fast, of pushing her into something she’s not prepared for.
I let her guide the kiss.
She pauses after a moment, to breathe—and then she meets my eyes. “I don’t want to stop kissing you.”
“Don’t have to.”
“I don’t know where it goes, from here.”
“Wherever you want it to.”
“That’s what I’m saying—I don’t know.”
“Whatever feels right.”
She rolls her hands over my shoulders. “Maybe we…”
I smile down at her. “Maybe we what?”
“Just kiss and don’t worry about stopping? Maybe if…if you wanted to touch me, somewhere, you could.” She licks her lips, searches my eyes. “When you put your hands on my waist…I liked that.”
I currently have my arms around her shoulders, holding her close. Now, I let my hands drop to her waist. To her hips. She bites her lip and her eyes widen, her breathing quickens. She doesn’t pull away; her fingers dig into my shoulders.
It seems like she wants to test her limits, a little. See what she’s okay with, how it feels.