It was that peaceful time of day when I would find things to get into. After the high-school had let out, but before all of the grown-ups were home from work.
I was wearing my favorite sundress, white with purple flowers. I felt the light fabric flutter with each step towards him.I watched my own tanned thighs from beneath my sunglasses as they alternated, peeking out from my mid-thigh hemline. I felt golden. Beautiful. Almost powerful, with the attention my body could provoke.
The afternoon was warm with an almost-too-bright sky. Not a cloud. He was sun-kissed and squinting on a bench in the empty park perimeter. I stepped in front of the sun and cast a shadow over him. My diaphanous dress lit up with a sunshine halo around me. I wanted him to notice. Could he see through it a little, I wondered?
He squinted up at me, then looked away coolly, to pop a cassette in his boom box. The sounds of Led Zeppelin whirred to life, with the first words of Staircase to Heaven a little distorted, until the tape caught solidly.
Even on a warm day he wore his jean jacket. I wanted to peel it off of him. I wanted to kiss his neck. I didn’t know how to tell him all the things I wanted from him, so I tried to advertise, as best I could, what I had to offer. My hair cascading down around my shoulders. My wedge-cork sandals emphasizing my calves. My lips glossed and smelling of artificial strawberry.
He got up and grazed me as he passed, sat on a swing, then looked at me. He smiled with half of his mouth, and I felt a tingle all over. He put his hand on his thigh, and the other hand out a little, beckoning. I walked over and looked at his face, locking eyes momentarily. I turned around, lifted my arms to grasp the chains and hopped into his lap. I could smell a mixture of some over-powering spiced cologne, that was trying a bit too hard, and cigarettes.
He scooted back a bit in the swing, making room for my bottom to cradle into the alcove his body made for me. He pushed back hard on the dusty layer of hard-packed dirt and we went backwards. My stomach flopped and my heart pounded. We flew forward and his legs straightened, and mine with them–my dress fluttered revealing the upper parts of my thighs. We pumped, swaying. My bottom pressed hard into the landscape of his lap. I could feel his hardness through his jeans, and I liked it. I didn’t want to ever stop swinging. I laughed and he let out a small laugh too.
My hair blew into his face, and his jacket sleeves kept rubbing against the thinner, more tender skin near my exposed underarms and the side-swells of my breasts. I wished it was his bare arms, instead. As we swung, centrifugal force pressed me harder against him, and my nipples bumped out in excitement. Gooseflesh covered my body as I leaned back and closed my eyes.
He slowly stopped pumping until the swing was still. We both were breathing almost normal when he took his hands off of the chains and put them around my waist. He squeezed a little then put his lips to the curve between my neck and my shoulder, and lightly kissed it. Then he helped me to the ground, where I wobbled for a moment. He hopped up to steady me and cracked a big smile as I tried to catch my balance. It was a sweet, genuine smile–one I’d never seen on him before. It warmed my heart and made me want to kiss his mouth.
Once I was steady, he walked back over to the bench and sat down. He pulled some sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and put them on.
“See you later, Ophelia.” My knees weakened. I didn’t even realize he knew my name.
As relaxed as I could manage, I said, “Bye, Josh.” And I walked slowly and carefully away, letting him enjoy the view as I went, my high wedges helping with the sway.