“Okay, so it’s not on the list, but I want to know.”
She bit first on her bottom lip then on the upper one, a habit I already knew. She looked away again then back at me. “Best memory, opening my first shop and receiving my first clients. Actually, no, wait. When they returned to buy more the next week.” She smiled brightly.
I smiled back. June the Prune was sweet, a word she’d probably resent for the sugary content.
“And the worst?” I prodded.
Her face clouded. “You say your best first.”
“It’s a tie. When Luigi first allowed me to fix a guitar all by myself, and when I bought the Strat.”
“The blue one?”
“Yes. She’s a classic, iconic. They say Strats can do anything—scream, sparkle, and soar,” I quoted.Like you. “I worked hard to get her. I painted her myself. I had to peel her faded varnish to get to the beauty inside and let her shine.”Did I say too much?
“What’s your worst?” she asked.
I had a feeling she was biding time, so I decided to let her.
“It’s another tie.” I lopsidedly smiled at her. “When I was arrested for the first time and the last time. In the first, I was scared. I was nothing, just an ID number that was roughly handled by thecarabinieri—the police—and what awaited me inside was no better. The second time, I was mad at myself that I let it happen again.”
She pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes held mine, and her hand stroked my covered thigh.
“What about you?”
“It’s silly. I probably have others, but that’s the first that I thought of when you asked. It was so long ago. It’s silly.”
“What is it?” I wanted to reach out and touch her, but I knew that if I broke this delicate moment, she’d close up. Like a butterfly that landed on your hand, one wrong movement and it would fly away. So, I kept my hands firmly tucked under my head.
“When I was sixteen, I attended Wayford High School, and we had a class trip to Washington D.C. My mom couldn’t afford it, and I was so mad. I was a stupid teenager who wanted to be like everyone else, at least in that. We had a huge fight, which I regretted right after. Two days later, I was told that I was going, and I was so happy that I didn’t even think to ask how that happened to be. I figured she got the money or did a payment installment or something.” Her chest began rising with deeper breaths, and I couldn’t believe it, but June’s eyes glimmered with distant tears.
“I went on the trip, and on the first night, the kids partied in one of the rooms. I was passing by the door. It was open, and I heard a few of them talking about how their parents had all chipped in to cover for my trip as charity. Everyone knew, except me. And everyone talked about it behind my back.” The tears were now visible, although June tried to swallow them. “You see? It’s silly.” Another effort to stifle tears. “I never told this to anyone.”
I sat up and gathered her in my arms, gently at first, but when she let me and leaned into me, I pressed her closer. No sound came out of her, but I felt a touch of dew on my skin. I tightened my hold. She didn’t cry, didn’t drench my chest with tears that had waited too long to be shed. But I swore inwardly that I would be there when she did.
I kissed her forehead, cradling the back of her head in my palm, holding her against my shoulder. I kissed her again from her temple to her lashes. June nestled against my body, fitting in like my guitar did.
She kissed my clavicle once and again, and then pulled herself back a little. Our eyes locked for a moment. She then grabbed her T-shirt by the hem and took it off without breaking eye contact.
I pulled her closer and kissed her. We fell back on the bed and, before long, I was kissing her breasts and stripping her panties again, sinking my face between her thighs, tasting and licking her.
I licked her up and down, up and down in a slow, almost languid pace, occasionally turning my mouth to nip at the smooth, sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She clutched the sheet and bunched it in her hand.
The movements of her pelvis urged me to increase the rhythm, my ears filled with her quickened breaths and the sound of wet meeting wet. When her breath started hitching and her moans reverberated off the walls, I flexed my tongue and slid it into her, again and again, emanating new sounds out of her.
She suddenly rolled up and pushed me to lie on my back. With her on top of me, my face still between her thighs, she sent a hand back and gripped my cock that was throbbing with need.
And right when I thought I was about to make her come on my tongue, she somehow slid along my body and guided me into her. She raked her hands down my chest, but I wanted her closer.
I sat up and enveloped her tightly on top of me, until we came together, breathing hard into a kiss.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She wasn’t mad the next morning when she missed her seven hours of sleep and yet another morning jog.
She wasn’t mad when I broke her showerhead.
I entered the shower after her, and although she asked if I’d heard her say I could come in, she didn’t reply when I asked if she was going to kick me out. We fucked against the wet, warm tiles.
