Part 8
"Whatever happens with us, your body
will haunt mine--tender, delicate. . .
reaching where I had been waiting years for you.
. . .whatever happens, this is."
-----from Twenty -One Love Poems by Adrienne Rich.

He started to kiss her slowly, barely brushing her at first. His mouth parted and he sucked softly on her lower lip. She rested her hand hesitantly on his chest. She was kissing Pacey Witter. What did she think about this?

The edge of one his front teeth was rough against her tongue. Had he broken it once? She continued to explore his mouth, sliding her tongue along his and gripping his shirt. She didn't know what to think. Her neck was cool and wet from his mouth. They stayed like that for a long time, nuzzling, nipping, tra cing long warm trails on each other with their tongues. His hands didn't move, though. One gripping her waist, the other arm propped him up.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself." He kissed the tip of her nose and grinned. "Is it just me, or is this kind of weird?" His breath smelled like beer.

"No Pacey, just you."

He frowned for a moment.

"Just kidding." She slapped his arm. He caught her wrist mid motion and pushed it back into the sand above her head. When he leaned foreward, the pressure made her hand sink into the warm grainyness. Slowly, he slipped his fingers around her other wrist and placed it above her on the blanket.

"What'cha gonna do to me?" she asked.

"This." He blew a fart noise on her neck.

"If you're trying to give me a hickey, you're doing it wrong. You're supposed to suck in," she teased.

"Oh...oh I get it. Silly me. What was I thinking? You want a hickey?"

"No." He leaned in. "No!" she shrieked, wriggling against him.

"Shhhh," he whispered. He nudged her hair away from her ear with his nose. "Shhhh." His breath hissed hot against her, sending shivers down to her belly. He lowered his mouth to the place where her neck met her shoulder. Slowly at first, then with building intensity he sucked and nibbled at her. Every once in a while he would pull back and blow softly, chilling the skin. Then he warmed her with his tongue and started sucking again.

When he finished he said, "See. That wasn't so bad.," She nodded dumbly. He rolled off of her. "Would you like another beer?"

She nodded her head again, confused. Why did he stop? She watched him open the wine and pour a cup full. He winced at the first sip, but kept drinking and staring at the waves. Joey adjusted her bra strap and sat up. "How does the wine taste?"

"Nasty, but drinkable."

"Can I have some?" He extended the cup and she sipped from it. When he tipped it to her lips a little dribbled down her chin and she steadied his hand. He wiped the red liquid from her face with his other hand and she kissed his fingers. Slowly, he lowered the cup but kept his fingers tracing her mouth.

What do you want, hmm? She tried to sort out her thoughts as she slipped her lips around two of his fingers. Her eyes locked with his while she slithered her tongue around him, circling him, suckling. Tracing the line between his fingers, she slowly dragged her lips off of him, keeping the suction until his hand left her mouth. She didn't feel like Joey. She felt like some woman. Not a girl but a woman. A woman with power over him. This thought shook her. In his eyes she saw no guile, no joke. No half pretended passion or mocking. She saw that he wanted her.

She said, "Truth or dare."

He chuckled softly and shook his head.. "Whichever."

"Truth."

"OK." "Tell me what's going on. And don't say I don't know, because I swear to god. . ," she paused then growled, burying her hands in her face. "I swear to god Pacey."

"I know." He gulped down the rest of his wine. "This came out of nowhere and kicked me in the ass too."

"What do you want?"

He shook his head and stood. "I don't know. I don't know." He extended his hand. "C'mere. Walk with me."

She followed him down to the shore. They walked for a few minutes, along the foaming water. It crashed against their ankles and shins, then rolled back, leaving perfectly wet smooth sand. She looked over her shoulder and saw the footprints behind them being erased.

"Talk to me, Pacey."

"We're both drunk, first of all. So this isn't the best time for discussion." She bumped him with her shoulder. He smiled at her. "And you're confusing the shit out of me, Joey.," he said all at once.

"How so?" "So, from what you've told me, you have no experience whatsoever. I guess I believe you. And from what you've told me, you're in love with Dawson, or something like that, and I believed that too. I watched you drool over him and pine and everything else all year. And about a week after he's out of the picture, I'm giving you hickeys." He shook his head. "And you're doing things to me that are driving me . . .," he stopped. "I want you to tell me the truth, Joey. Are you messing with me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you deliberately fucking with my head? Is this all some attempt to get back at Dawson, or some way of saying, I am woman, hear me roar?" He rubbed his face. "Are you just using me?"

"How am I using you, Pacey?"

"You're teasing the shit out of me, Joey. Don't look at me like that. You are. You know what you're doing."

She stepped foreward, her face in his. "What am I doing, huh? Please tell me what I'm doing, wise one, because I have no friggin clue."

His nose almost touched her when he said, "Maybe you're just horny. I'm here. I'm Pacey the pervert, I'll hook up with you and you just want to knock a few points off your next purity test."

"Fuck you." She walked swiftly down the beach in front of him. That asshole. That goddamned asshole. If he thought that about her, he could just go to...she heard his footsteps behind her then felt his hand on her shoulder. "You can go to hell Pacey."

"Was I right? Was that it? Huh, Joey? Because if it is, I'd be happy to oblige."

She spun around and walked backwards, facing him as she stumbled in the wet sand. "You are so disgusting, you'd do that too, wouldn't you. You'd screw around with anything that moves."

"Oh yeah, That's why I'm here." He continued towards her as she walked backwards. She could see the ocean in front of her, feel the sand getting drier as she walked up the beach. "Anything at the service of Queen Josephine."

Her eyes were tearing up. "Fuck you."

"Not even if you asked."

"Really?" She planted both hands on his chest and pushed. "Not even if I asked you to touch me?" She slurred her words, feeling the brunt of the alcohol hitting her. Everything was a blur and she didn't care. She shoved him again and he stumbled backwards. One more push, and he fell to the dry, warm sand. But he caught her hand and pulled her with him. She fell against him on top of him, bumping her head against his. She knew she might have a bruise the next day but she didn't care.

They lay on the sand, chests heaving, trying to catch their breath. Her mouth was near his ear, but she had to spit some sand out before she said, "Not even if I asked you, huh?"

His hands slid around her waist and pulled her tight against him. She could feel his excitement pressing against her. "What would you ask of me?" He tugged her against him again. "Huh?"

She rested her forehead against his shoulder. For several long seconds she remained silent. His body felt good and right beneath hers. It molded to her and she felt like she could sleep on top of him, or. . . or any number of things. She spread her legs and straddled him, sitting up. "Tell me what you're going to start, and I'll tell you if I want to stop."

"Tell me what you're going to make me stop at, and I'll start right now."

She bent down and kissed him, hard. He kissed her back, faster and deeper than she expected. Sand was in their mouths but neither cared. He rolled her onto her back and pressed his knee between her legs. His hands were everywhere, in her hair, up her shirt, gently squeezing her breasts, slipping behind her ass and pulling her against him.

She wasn't still. She ran her fingers across his scalp, through his short cropped hair. When he pressed against her, she rose to meet him. His kisses were sloppy and warm, trailing up her neck, across her mouth, along her shoulder. He stopped to spit out sand and she smiled. Giggled.

He laughed too, and stopped for a moment, staring at her face. He hovered above her. His voice was serious and low. "Joey, if you want to stop, just tell me and I will."

"I will," she said.

"I don't want you to think that I would ever--."

"I know. I know you wouldn't."

She felt his hands tug at her pants, trying to unbutton her jeans. She started to help him, then stopped. He had this cute, frustrated look on his face that she wanted to enjoy for a little bit longer. Finally, he pried the button open and unzipped her. For a few more minutes, he just kissed her face and neck. She stared up at the darkness over head. The moon had set and the sky was filled with stars.

He started slowly, teasing her belly just like he had a week ago in his room. But now his hand drifted down instead of up. He slipped beneath the elastic waistband of her underwear and she gripped his shoulders.

He paused. After a few more soft kisses right below her ear he whispered. "You ok?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm. . ." she sucked in a breath, "I'm good."

"Good."

As he explored her she buried her face in the crook of his neck, kissing him sometimes and biting him at others. She didn't have anything to compare him to, but he seemed to know what he was doing. He tugged her jean shorts a little fu rther down her legs and she breathed softly against his cheek. He touched her.

He whispered soft things into her ear. As she dug her heels into the sand she listened to him tell her all the sorts of things girls want to hear. He didn't go overboard. He didn't declare love or promise her the moon but the things he said were so very sweet and beautiful and sincere. They were things about her she hoped were true.

"Pacey," she whispered as she squirmed against him. "Pacey."

"What is it?" he breathed.

"This is...," she stopped and caught her breath. "You are--"

"Shhh." He kissed her softly and continued to make her feel warm and relaxed and tense and good. "Shhh. Just breathe."

And she did. She took in slow, deep intoxicating breaths that spread all the way to her fingers. Every once in a while he would do something that stopped the air in her throat. Then she would sigh and bury her face in his shoulder. She slipped her hand beneath his shirt, desperate, for some reason, to touch his skin. His waist was tense and warm and a little sweaty as she dug her fingers in and pulled him closer.

She started to feel dizzy, but not. Her belly was dizzy, her legs felt heavy. Everything felt fluid and hot and she needed more air. Her mouth met with his. His hand moved faster. Feelings that had spread to her legs and her chest traveled back to their source. He watched her and she stared back at him until she had to close her eyes and curse softly. And for a few long moments she held him very tight. Something in her broke and spilled out and filled her up. Then she burst again and cried out, resting her forehead against his chest.

They lay there breathing for a while. He didn't say anything to her and she was glad of that. She didn't think she could answer anything right now, not wit h her chest still rising and falling quickly against the weight of his arm. Not with her mouth dry but still tasting like his.

As she caught her breath he sat up and rested crosslegged next to her body. He moved her hair out of her face and as he traced another strand away she could feel the wetness on his fingers. She could smell herself. Finally, she came back to the present. The buzz from the alcohol was wearing off and she felt a little silly having her shorts around her ankles.

She got up, dusted the sand off her butt and pulled her shorts back on. While she fiddled with the button she glanced down. Pacey was still watching her. She didn't know what to say. Scratch that. She had absolutely, positively, no friggin clue what to say. So she nodded her head in the direction of the truck. He stood and they walked silently down the beach, a little unsteady through the soft sand.

The blanket was where they left it, along with the scattered bottles. "I've got another blanket in the truck," Pacey said.

"Good, it's getting a little cold." She sat. He returned with a thick, green quilt, a little battered and frayed, but warm looking. He shook it out, then tossed it over her. She laughed and pulled it off. "C'mere."

He climbed under the blanket and they snuggled together, him behind her. She felt his arm slip around his waist. He nuzzled his nose against her neck and said, "Good night, Joey."

She wanted to say something to him. She didn't know what it was, but she felt like something should be said. But she was very tired and quite warm and more comfortable than she could remember being in a long time. She covered his hand with hers and said, "Night, Pacey."

Section eight is dedicated to Jessie. And to all the "other" firsts in a girl's life that can be just as memorable, awkward and precious.