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After the movie, we went to the very back of the neiborhood, began to drink our coolers, and talk about love and life. Jennifer was wearing her usual, casual uniform of blue jeans, those white boots, and a white leather jacket with tassels to chase the evenings chill. Hidden beneath the jacket was a light blue, cotton blouse with the top two buttons undone. Very beautiful, and very sexy. Pure 80's kitsch, baby! She was very tired of her recent boyfriend, a mutual friend, and wondered what to do about it. I joked that tonight was probably a pretty good hint; standing him up for their date. That was when she dared me to race her to the bottom of the next two bottles of cooler. I did, and she won. When I asked what she won, because she was the first to finish, she coyly replied: “you!”

With that word, an old, warm, beautiful feeling returned to me. Maybe it was the drinks, or maybe it was that I had been patient enough to find that moment when the two of us could be together. It reminded me of when she would come over to my house to watch movies on the VCR. She would always curl-up with me on the couch, laying on me. I never tried anything with her in those moments because I was to distracted by just being there in that way. She would always be sure to adjust herself in such a way that I would miss most of the movie looking down her shirt. Once, she told me she did that because she loved the way I always had to ask her what had just happened. When she raced me, again, to the bottom two new frosty ones, it was my turn to win. She asked me: “Well, what do you win?”

Before I could say “You”, she burst out with: “Do you want to see my tattoo?”

This had been an object of mystery to me for a couple of years prior to this evening. I knew she had a tat, I even knew what it was of, but I never knew where. I never had a chance to answer yay or nay (obviously I would choose yay) before she had unbuttoned her blouse, and pulled up her bra, revealing a quarter-sized tatoo of the now infamous Mighty-Mouse on her left breast. To me it was the most beautiful, gentle sight in all the world. The skin of her breast, the shape, revealed that the beauty I had come to love her for, inside, was vastly mirrored in her on the outside. I stared, and stared, as if I was from another planet, examining a precious gem. To me, it was just the case.

Jennifer un-fashioned her bra, removing it with her blouse, and returned her leatherjacket to her shoulders. It was getting cold, but she was not. For me, it was the moment of life I had always wanted since meeting her. If not another moment went by, I had nothing more I could ask of the universe. I was holding her; but, best of all, she was holding me. I was nervous, but determined not to show it. In my gallant-knight ways, I asked her permission to touch her. I was not sure if she was only showing me her tatoo, or if this was a true moment of passion. It turned out to be the true moment of passion, as we kissed in an every growing passionate fervor. This is when things began to get weird, for me.

She began to pull her pants off, and I would not let her. She wanted to go all the way. I had been dreaming about this moment my entire life as a recognized sexual creature. Even though I had the woman of life in my very arms, it was not the situation in which I wanted to make love. After my first time, I would gladly get drunk, and make love in the middle of a suburbs-to-be. As a virgin, I was in deep water, and uncharted territory. I love her very deeply. I felt that she was drunk, and didn’t want take advantage of her in that way. What if she did not remember what we did? What if she did remember? I did not want for the morning to come and our friendship to be shattered. I was also in the very confusing area of “Hey, I worked this hard to just be your friend.” Obviously, I thought too much, and did not put enough action in to the situation. Jennifer was not upset about it, and chuckled a little bit. We stood there and held each until the moon set, and decided it was time to take her home. It was true that she did have too much to drink, as I had to dress her from the waist up before we left. As if I minded a little quality time with her breasts. Still, friends to the end, I said goodbye to her breasts before latching her brassier on. It was like saying good-bye to good friends you have just met. Still, I could not resist giving Mighty-Mouse a kiss.