The First Time Ever By Misty Meadow
"The first time ever I saw your face
I thought the sun rose in your eyes"
I'm lying on my bed with my iPhone playing through ear buds, listening enraptured as the lovely voice of Roberta Flack draws out the long, sweet notes of the song. She must be in love, I think. How could she fire such feelings in me if she's not in love? And whom does she love? We don't know. I wonder what it must be like to love someone.
I've had some crushes on girls, but I've never actually been in real love, at least I don't think so. When I was eight, I had a crush on an older girl, but she snubbed me one day and I came to my senses. When I was eleven, I hero worshiped my riding instructor and I'd have fantasies in which she would abduct me and take me to a ranch in Tennessee where we would breed thoroughbreds, but one day I was thrown (unhurt) and she had no sympathy for my plight, so I stopped caring. Anyway, they don't have ranches in Tennessee, they're all in Texas, I think.
But now I'm twelve and I can feel my body changing as puberty approaches. My boobs are beginning to grow, hairs have appeared just above my vagina and my hips are getting wider. I've stopped rubbing myself on Teddy because I've discovered I can do a better job with my fingers. Any day now I'll get my period.
"Congratulations, you're a woman now," they'll say, which might bring me more problems than it'll solve. What if I really fall in love with someone and she doesn't want to know me? I know she'll be a woman because I take after my mum who's a total lesbian and boys suck anyway.
"And the moon and stars were the gifts you gave . . ."
The song continues, making me long for . . . for what, I don't know. It leaves a sweet ache in my heart. I feel as though I'm missing something important, some secret that I haven't learned, some emotion that I haven't yet felt.
"To the dark and endless skies, my love,
to the dark and endless skies."
I let the song drift its slow way through two more verses. I know the words by heart, having played it a dozen times just today. It should be easy enough for me to play the chords on my guitar. When the song comes to its gentle end, like a feather falling on to a pile of golden autumn leaves, I take the ear buds out, roll off the bed and get my guitar from the closet. I try it in the key of C, singing along, my little girlish voice sounding pathetic after the rich but gentle tones of Roberta and struggle to find the right chords, until I realise it doesn't begin with the dominant major, it kicks off with G seventh, then drops to C major, then to A minor and after that it all falls into place. There a nice bit at the end where I have to play B flat, a chord I haven't fully mastered but a little practice will fix that. I feel quite pleased with myself, though I don't sound remotely like Roberta. I wonder whom I might play it for, who might appreciate my loneliness.
The first time ever I see your face is in the school cafeteria. I've filled my tray and I look for an empty seat, find one and sit down. I load my fork with macaroni cheese, lift it to my mouth, and the shock makes me drop it.
Oh, my God! You're sitting opposite me: you're a girl of about my own age who I can only describe as . . . well there's no way to describe you. Let's just say that my heart seems to stop and a fist clenches my stomach. You're simply incredibly, impossibly, stunningly beautiful! The sun does seem to rise in your eyes. I stare at you, unable to tear my gaze away, my pulse racing. You look up at me. I can't stop myself from speaking.
"You're so beautiful," I breathe, barely audibly. You smile. The girls either side of you smirk.
"Oh, Misty's fallen in love!" one of them sneers, derisively.
"She's a total lez, then," says her friend, her voice dripping contempt. I wake out of dreamland; I need to defend myself against these idiots.
"My Mum's a lesbian," I say, defiantly. "There's nothing wrong with that."
"You tell em, Misty," you, my new-found goddess, say. Your smile lights up the whole room. "I don't care if you're gay. I think lesbians are cool. Maybe I'll grow up to be one, who knows?" You have a lovely voice, cultured accentless English. "I'm Ashley. You're in the second form, right?" I nod. "I thought so. I've seen you around. I'm in the third form." Why have I never seen you before? "I only started last week cos I just changed schools." That explains it. Your two friends, feeling slighted, pick up their trays and walk off, snootily. "So, I'm beautiful, huh? I think I'm supposed to say `thanks'. You're not too bad yourself."
"I'm sorry, it just came out. I couldn't help myself." I push my tray away, my appetite having evaporated.
"Hey, call me beautiful any time you like. A lot of people say that, but you sounded like you meant it."
"I did." You smile at me again.
"If you're not eating, let's get out of here." You pick up your tray and stand. I follow you, dump my uneaten lunch in the trash and we walk out. We find a seat at the edge of the playing field and sit side by side, not actually touching, but close.
"And the moon and stars are the gifts you give," I murmur, an idea forming in my mind.
"What?"
"It's a song. I'm learning to play it on my guitar. Wanna hear it?"
"Sure, why not?"
I fish out my phone and buds, which you put in your ears. Holding on to the phone, I key the song and sit back. I can faintly hear it. Your face slowly lights up as the song unfolds, your smile growing wider. You look at me and I can see that it's having the same effect on you that it has on me. As soon as the first verse ends, I press "stop" and you look at me with alarm.
"Why did you stop it?" you ask. "I was beginning to really like it." I pull the buds from your ears.
"For reasons you'll have to wait to find out. You'll have to get to know me much better before I let you hear the next verse. Tell me something, where do you live?" You tell me, and it's not very far from my house.
"We've just moved from London," you add which explains why I've never seen you round the village.
"Great. Why don't you come home with me after school and I'll play some more of the song for you? You can meet my mum. She's gonna love you."
"I suppose it'll be okay. I don't have anything else to do." The bell rings and we start back to the school building. "Why can't you stop smiling?" you ask. I stay silent. I'm not going to tell you that I'm head over heels in love with you, at least not yet.
"I'll meet you after school by the gates, okay?" I say and you nod.
"Ashley," I whisper to myself.
"What?"
"It's just a nice name, that's all." It's a wonderful name. It's the loveliest name in the world. It's a symphony all by itself. You walk away from me and even from behind, your beauty still staggers me. The whole world has changed in less than fifteen minutes. Now I know what love is. The emptiness inside me has been filled, filled with joy and excitement. I'm bursting with happiness.
We walk home from school, through the village, past the church and the pub, past the Post Office and the war memorial and down the lane to my house. I stay mostly silent, letting you chatter away. I learn that you like science and don't have a boyfriend. You're thirteen and you've started your period, but lament that your boobs are too small. You have a dog named Bumpy which also answers to the name "Bugger" when your parents aren't around. You like wearing dresses and hate tight jeans and thongs. Your favourite food is Gorgonzola. Every few seconds I glance over at you, the sun dappling your face as it shines through the trees. I hear birds singing, singing to us, to me and my darling Ashley. They must know I'm in love.
But even in my new blissful world dark clouds of anxiety begin to gather as I wonder if you'll ever love me. How can I live if you reject me? I can't be just your friend; my love is far too intense for that.
At home, I introduce you to Mum. "This is Ashley."
"Oh, my God, you perfect little angel," she gushes. "You're so beautiful!"
"That's what Misty said."
"And how right she is. My little girl has excellent taste."
"We'll be in my room, Mum," I say, taking your hand and leading you upstairs. Your touch is almost like an electric shock. In my bedroom, you look around.
"Oh, you have a guitar. How cool. Are you gonna sing that song for me?"
"Not on the guitar; on my iPhone." We sit on the end of my bed and I put the phone on speaker. I'm about to do the most wonderful, yet terrifying thing I've ever done and my heart is pounding. I key the song from where it left off earlier.
"The first time ever I kissed your mouth
I felt the earth move in my hand . . ."
As soon as I hear the word "kissed" I gently push you on to your back, lean over and press my lips to yours. They feel so soft and warm and indeed, I do feel the earth move as you reach out and pull me down on top of you, wrapping your arms round me.
"Like the trembling heart of a captive bird . . ."
The melody and the words float through my brain as my lips press against yours. Your breath, coming through your nose, smells sweet. Suddenly all my fear of rejection evaporates and I'm awash in a sea of relief and happiness.
"That was there at my command, my love,
That was there at my command."
The song unfolds so slowly that our kiss lasts for . . . how long? Much too long for it to be just two young girls experimenting, playing at being lovers, long enough to have meaning and as the verse ends, I break away and shut the phone off, just as I had earlier. I look down at your smiling face.
"You're a good kisser, Misty."
"I was scared you might not like it," I confess.
"Oh, I like it. I love it! Kiss me again." My heart bursts with joy. I think you might actually be in love with me. We kiss again and this time I feel your tongue press gently against my closed lips and I open them just a little. Your tongue goes in, just a bit, nothing aggressive, exploring my mouth and I press back with my own tongue, to let you know it's okay to invade me like that, that it's okay for you to do anything you want to me. Our tongues meet like two old friends after a long absence, playing and dueling until we come up for air. I can't keep my feelings a secret any more.
"I love you, Ashley." There, I've said it and now how you react is out of my hands. I'm entirely at your mercy.
"I know," you say, gently. "I knew it the moment we met in the cafeteria, when you looked across at me and dropped your fork. You should've seen your face. You were totally gone and those two bitches were too stupid to recognise it."
"But do you love me?" The question hangs on the air for a second and my fear spikes again. If you say "no", I'm dead!
You grin. "Kiss me again and I'll tell you." I roll on to my back, pulling you over with me and put my arms round you, hugging you tight. We kiss again, this time with our eyes open, gazing at each other, my heart racing, my tummy churning, my vagina tingling. Now our tongues are pushing deep into each other's mouth. Your leg pushes between my thighs and I push back with my own. We grind our lower bodies against each other. You must love me. If this is just a game to you, you're the cruelest girl on the planet.
You lift your head and look into my eyes.
"I love you too, Misty," you whisper. "I absolutely adore you!"
After you leave I talk to Mum in the kitchen.
"I'm in love, Mum."
"I know. I saw it in your face when you came home. She's adorable. I could fall for her myself."
"We kissed. It was indescribable."
"But you've kissed girls before."
"Not girls like her. I've fooled around with some kids, but it was more of a joke than real kissing. Those were just games we played. Now I know what a real kiss is."
"Oh, Misty, I'm so happy for you. I think you're going to turn out to be as gay as I am. How does she feel about you?"
"She says she loves me too."
"Then here's what we're going to do. Invite her for a sleep over. Have her mum call me to arrange it and you can both sleep in my big bed and I'll sleep in yours. You guys can make love all night long."
Make love? I hadn't even got round to imagining what you and I might do together, apart from kissing. You're thirteen, with real tits and a figure and you might have had encounters with other girls.
"Make love? Like how?"
"Like two lovely little lesbians, kissing, cuddling, caressing each other's bodies, playing with your nipples, and using your fingers and tongue in exciting places. Girls have two sets of lips, one on their mouths, the other between their legs and both should be kissed at every opportunity. Just follow your urges. Nothing is off the table, nothing is too weird, as long as she doesn't say `no'."
My mind reels at the thought of touching your breasts and vagina. It's too much for me to process.
Later, in bed, I put my hand, as always, down between my legs and press my fingers on my clit. I think of you, my perfectly pure angel, and it doesn't seem right to sully your image in this way. If you want to touch me, then I'll let you, but I hold you in too high regard to crudely masturbate. I just lie there, loving you, adoring you, worshiping you.
The arrangements have been made and you're going to sleep over on Friday night. It's like waiting for Christmas; it seems like it'll never come, but finally school lets out and we walk home together. Mum has cooked a delicious dinner, the aroma of its cooking assailing us as we do our homework. Instead of dessert, Mum provides crackers and Gorgonzola, a nice touch. Then we go upstairs and into Mum's bedroom.
"It's too early for bed," you say. "What do you wanna do?"
"Kiss you, of course!" I take you in my arms and we kiss, this time with less urgency because we know we have the whole night together. As I feel your body press against mine, I have a sudden vision of you with nothing on and my stomach churns with excitement.
"I'm gonna take a shower," I say. "Wanna join me?"
"Stupid question," you say, unzipping your dress and letting it pool round your ankles. You have nothing on underneath but your knickers which soon join your dress. I stare transfixed at your naked body. My earlier vision of you was nothing compared to what now stands unselfconsciously in front of me. Your skin is perfect; your boobs are small but deliciously formed with surprisingly large nipples. Your hips are curvy, unlike mine, and between your thighs I see your treasure, your most private part, your vagina, on display, especially for me. You've shaved off your pubic hair. The seconds tick by and I can't take my eyes off you.
"Seen enough?" you ask.
"Oh, my God, Ashley! I don't know what to say."
"How about, `You look pretty sexy'?"
"It's more than that. If I believed in God I'd say he's been practicing for ten thousand years and finally came up with you. Utter perfection."
"Now it's your turn. I wanna see you naked. Get `em off!"
I'm nervous, not from embarrassment, but because I'm going to reveal myself to you, the object of all my desire, and I'm hoping that you won't find any fault with me. After all, I'm only part way through puberty, my tits are barely perceptible and my vagina still looks like a little girl's, but when my clothes are shed, I can tell from the look on your face that you find me as thrilling as I find you. You don't seem to mind that in reality, I'm still a child. My fears abate as I stand, letting you run your gaze up and down my body. Suddenly, I'm proud of how I look.
"Misty! Oh, Misty, I've just fallen in love with you all over again." My heart swells. I take your hand and lead you into the bathroom.
We soap each other's backs, nothing more. You might imagine that we'd be all over each other, but neither of us wants to rush things, after all, we have all night. We watch each other as, grinning, we wash ourselves between our legs, knowing that we'll be returning to those areas later. We dry off and exit the bedroom.
Mum is standing at the top of the stairs. I expect you to be shy about being naked, but you aren't.
"How are your girls getting on?" Mum asks. You run her fingers through your hair and toss your head so that your hair swings out. You're facing Mum, full frontally and I can see from Mum's face that she's bowled over by your beauty and her boldness.
"Fine," you respond with a smile.
Mum sees me naked on an almost daily basis, so I feel not only comfortable, but thrilled to have Mum look at your nakedness.
"I didn't bring a nightie," you add, coquettishly, "so I suppose I'll be sleeping naked." Mum's eyes go big.
"Me, too," I add. "Come on, Ash, let's go to bed." Mum's face bears a mixture of sexual excitement and a touch of envy. I take your hand and lead you into Mum's bedroom. You lie on your back on the big bed, looking sweetly vulnerable and I take my phone, where the last verse of the song waits to be played. I put it on speaker. I lie beside you on my side, propped up on one elbow and gaze at your body. I can't imagine how I could ever tire of looking at you. With my free hand I caress your breasts, playing with your nipples and then I lean in and kiss them. You pull my body down on top of yours. I grope for the phone and press play.
"The first time ever I lay with you
I felt your heart so close to mine"
We kiss again and your whole body trembles. I think that I should be able to feel your heartbeat, except that my own is beating so intensely, it drowns yours out. Once again, we push our thighs between each other's and I can feel your wetness on my skin. I reach down with my hand and slide it in between us, my middle finger pressing along the length of your slit and over the music I hear you gasp. You push your hips hard against me and then I feel your fingers on me, exploring, probing, pressing deep into me and a great gale of ecstasy blows throughout my whole body, setting me on fire, and my love blazes like a bright sun, then gradually settles to a warm glow.
"And I knew our joy would fill the earth
And last `til the end of time, my love
And would last `til the end of time."
I open my eyes to see that you're crying.
"What's the matter?" I ask, anxiously.
You smile through your tears. "It's just that I've never been so happy in my whole life, Misty. I'm so in love with you."
"You made me cum," I whisper in your ear.
"I came when you kissed me," you murmur, "and then again when you touched me with your fingers. Oh, Misty, I'm so incredibly happy!"
Me, too, I think, me too.
"The first time ever I saw your face
Your face
Your face
Your face."
The end.