The Bridge Over Wilson's Creek

My mouth flew wide. I'm sure some sounds emerged, but I doubt I would have heard them even had my ears worked. I gasped, trying to breathe, but my chest was like my body- frozen, as if in the grip of some otherworldly vise. There was a moment, just a moment, where something resembling an ache rippled through my straining muscles.

Then, with a gentle tremor, I was there. My body fell, quaking through its release, every fiber of my being tingling with a euphoria that defies words. No matter how many times you say orgasm, it is just a word until you experience one.

I opened my eyes to find my teeth clamped on the outer edge of my lover's palm.

Before I could pry my mouth from my lover's hand, she gave my thigh a playful nip. My hips jerked as if to evade the sting, and the shock. She shifted too, her hand springing from my mouth to my shoulder as she pivoted.

I looked up into her face. Her creamy skin glistened with a sheen, the aroma of which drifted down to my flaring nostrils.

Her lips moved. "You've marked me. Taste it."

I closed my eyes and kinked my head backward, lifting my mouth to meet the lips I knew were already approaching.

An hour later we were a hundred yards away, the quilt tossed amid grass tall enough to hide us from everything except sun. We lay in a loose cuddle, our warm bodies moving against one another in the slow certainty that came with knowing they belonged together.

"Do you think cavemen used to sun themselves like this?" Beth asked.

I grinned. "You mean cavegirls?"

She giggled. "Yeah. Cavegirls."

"Sure, why?"

"Do you think maybe they did other things, like we just did?"

I leaned, inhaling that portion of my fragrance that lingered upon her face. "I suppose they did."

Beth moved a finger, easing a stray brown tendril from my face. "I wonder if they had to hide, like we do."

My eyes wandered for the heartbeat it took me to reflect upon the matter. I found Beth smiling when my focus returned to her face. "I don't know," I admitted. "I hope not."

"Why?"

"It just seems wrong," I said, "that we can't let anyone else know how we feel."

Beth nodded. "I know. I want to shout 'I love Vicki!' from the highest hill; push my face into everyone's and say, 'Smell what I did to her!' I want them all to know I took you there."

Recalling the experience, I beamed. "I want to take you there too."

"You will," Beth assured me. Cradling my cheek to her bosom, she combed my tresses with her fingers. "Let's don't rush. We have all summer."

All summer. It seemed like forever when she said it, the way she said it. Yet, I knew even then it wouldn't be long enough. It couldn't be long enough. Too soon, I'd be bound for college whereas Beth would be staying on at the farm, until such time as my brother George finally got up the nerve to ask her out in a formal manner.

I realized I was being a bit selfish perhaps, not telling her what I knew. With a gulp, I sat upright. "There's someone that likes you. More than likes you even. Everyone knows it."

"George?"

My jaw fell. "You know?"

Beth smiled through a giggle. "You just said everyone did."

"I didn't mean you. How long have you known? Did he tell you when he walked you home?"

Beth smiled. Her lips moved in the subtle fashion that is a whisper. "I've known a while; you see- I like him too."

My brow fell at once. Any semblance of a smile left my lips. My mind raced back to when we had discussed our brothers. "Yeah. I guess you did say that. Reckon I just wasn't listening."

My friend smiled, then used her fingers the comb my hair. "Don't worry. I like him true, but I love you; and I ain't married yet. Me and him got the rest of our lives. Me and you got just the summer. We'ze gonna do it all. I'm gonna lick you so much I'll be able to close my eyes and taste you for the rest of my life."

She was right. We had that summer. Ninety-two marvelous days. We spent each one together. I cried for many more days after that, wanting so much to go home and be with her, but I knew that summer was gone, like all things wonderful, over too soon.

George turned out to be braver than I expected. Or maybe Beth helped him along. When I came home at Christmas, they were already engaged. I suffered through being my best friend's maid of honor the next June. After that I went back to Gallaudet and made a career of proving what a deaf girl can do, returning home for shorter visits in ever-increasing intervals.

* * * * *

My focus snaps back to the present. Though I stare at Elizabeth, her eyes are closed. She's smiling. I imagine why she might be, and my lips curve upward too. Can she really taste me when she closes her eyes after all these years? I start to close my eyes, but realize I can taste her even with them open.

Next to her, George waves at me, and then points to the television. I look to the screen where a man named Neal bounces upon the gray of the lunar landscape. We've missed it, Beth and I, missed the first step on the moon for simple look at one another.

With a smile of my own, knowing I would trade any view for one of her, I turn my attention back to my old friend. Her eyes are open now. Her mouth is stationary, in neither a smile nor a frown. She loses a tear. A second later, I lose a pair. For everyone else this is a day to remember, but not for Beth and I, we have our own memories of a summer we went there together, a place with a brilliance beyond that of the moon or the stars.

Perhaps I should be contented that we had our summer together, yet I have never been able to console myself thus. Even now I find that wicked, selfish streak that has always been a part of me hoping that my brother precedes me into the ground, that I might have another chance with my beloved. But I know it won't be the same, it can't be the same, as that late spring morning long ago when more than the lips of two girls met inside the old bridge over Wilson's Creek.

THE END
The Bridge Over Wilson's Creek
Copyright 2005 by Penelope Street
Posted with permission at Literotica.com
All other rights reserved.

Special thanks to Jessica and Stella for their editing assistance.

This is a work of fiction. To the best of the author's knowledge, none of the events depicted ever occurred. Victoria and Elizabeth are fictional characters. Their views, opinions, and experiences are invented as well and are not meant to promote anyone's personal beliefs or agenda.