Stumbling Towards Ecstasy

Creativity dedicated to the Heart, Mind, and Soul

Lemon Jam Chapter 7


I have waited a lifetime
Spent my time so foolishly
But now that I’ve found you
Together we’ll make history
And I know that it must be the woman in you
That brings out the man in me
I know I can’t help myself
You’re all that my eyes can see.

Feels Like the First Time, Daughtry


It was a cool night with clear skies, all too rare for spring in Toronto. They lay side by side on a down-filled blanket looking up into the inky darkness, silently enjoying the twinkling stars above. A shooting star streaked towards the horizon.

“Make a wish,” Jules said lazily as she watched it disappear.

“I wish…”

“You don’t tell me silly,” Jules interrupted, “it won’t come true then.”

“Oh, there’s a rule to making a wish on a falling star?” Sam’s voice taunted her.

“Yep, rules are rules,” Jules said as she gave him a quick jab in the ribs.

The rules thing had become a joke between them…rules at work, rules at home, rules in the bedroom. They were abiding by them, but more like the letter of the law rather than the intent. And they could both live with that, for now. It was just a few more days, after all.

“First kiss,” Sam said.

“What?”

“Tell me about your first kiss.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Because, I want to know.”

“Will you tell me about yours?”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“A game of firsts? Who, what, when, and where?”

“Game on.” He was particularly keen to set up these competitions if only to find ways to cope with the constant sexual tension that pulsed between them.

“So, first kiss?”

“Michael Crawford, make-out party, corduroy lazy-boy at a friend’s house, 7th grade.” Just the facts she figured. Start with the basics. No need to give away any more information than necessary. There was no telling where this little “game” was going to go. “Yours?”

“Jenny Bettany. 7th grade; she was in 8th. Behind the bleachers at football practice. I was in JV football, she was a cheerleader.”

“Ah, an older woman. What a surprise.”

“Why would you think it would be anything else?” His grin revealed the white glow of his teeth.  “First date?”

“Ugh, probably a dance, maybe 9th grade? I remember my parents insisted on driving us, and I remember being really embarrassed.”

“Ok, that isn’t really a date. First unescorted date.”

“Jake. I remember he had longish hair, and he smoked pot. He was 16, and I was 15. I only got to go out with him once.” She smiled at the memory. “I really liked him. He was the beginning of my bad boy days.”

“Bad boy days?”

“There is just something about bad boys. Girls want to rescue them, change them. Or maybe it’s just the excitement or the sense of mystery. I don’t know, but I definitely wasn’t alone in my bad boy attraction.”  She turned her head to look at him. “That was probably why you had an older woman kissing you behind the bleachers…bad boys just did it for her.”

Sam snorted and smiled, staying silent. Jules wondered what he was thinking about, the smug little smile communicating volumes about just how much of a bad boy he probably had been. “Your turn,” Jules said, bringing the topic back to Sam. “First date.”

“I don’t really remember. There were lots of group dates. Probably a dance or something. Nothing really memorable.”

“You? No dates?”

“Honestly, I got everything a guy in junior high and high school needed without having to date. So why bother with a girl friend?”

“No wonder you’re so cocky.”

He gave a half-hearted shrug from where he lay on the ground. “It was a long time ago, Jules. I was a different guy then.”

“What about your first time?”

“Seriously Sam? You really want to go there?”

“Sure.”

She rolled her eyes in the dark, even though he couldn’t see. “Sophomore in college. Italian soccer player. Otherwise, unmemorable.”

He turned his head to look at her, his eyebrows knitted in wonder. “You held out a long time, Jules. That’s what, 20?”

“You say that like it was a bad thing.” She could hear the defensiveness in her voice.

Sam turned on his side, reaching out to brush his finger along her cheek. “I wish I had been your first.”

Jules smiled but remained silent. Did he really mean that? Yeah, she’d waited a long time, but the reality was she was a virgin pretty much as a technicality only. The Italian soccer player had been a big coup, but it had gone nowhere. What would it have been like if Sam had been her first? But then, like he’d said, he was a different guy back then. She sensed Sam shift. Her silence had made him restless. Time to return to the present.

“Yours?”

“9th grade. Beth. As you said, unmemorable.”

Jules snorted. “Wait! You said you weren’t even dating then!”

“Yeah, well that didn’t mean we weren’t having what you called ‘make-out’ parties. Ours just went a little further.”

“Geez, Sam. … 9th grade…!”

“And none of it meant a thing. I looked at it as a sort of experimentation.”

“Experimentation. You must be an expert by now,” sarcasm dripped from her lips.

“I guess you’ll have to be the judge of that.” He rolled over and grabbed her, pulling her to him, wrapping his arms around her, forcing her to feel all of him.

“Tell me about your first orgasm.” His voice had the deep rasp of an aroused male.

“Now?” Why still the questions? She could feel how the game stirred him and thought this stage was over, but he still wanted to play.

“First orgasm, Jules.”

“Sam.” She tried to pull away.

“Hey, you know when mine was.”

“That’s why it isn’t fair. The whole orgasm thing isn’t fair. Guys have one every time. Girls, not so much.”

“Yep, you’re right. It’s not fair. Have you ever had one?”

“Once. I was still technically a virgin even. One of those earth-shattering, knee-weakening, wish-it-would-never-end, I’ll never-breath-again sort of orgasms that has never ever been repeated. I can fake it, but there’s never been anyone else.”

Sam lifted her head so he could look into her eyes, shaking his head. “I promise you, you won’t have to fake it with me. Ever.”

“And you’ll never know if I do.”

“But you won’t. I promise.”

He let her lay back down on his chest, and stroked her head following her hair from her scalp to her waist. He kept his other hand wrapped so he could hold her comfortably to him.

“When was the first time your heart was broken?” His voice soft, disappearing into the night darkness.

Jules paused, the memory stopped her breath. The ache, the betrayal. She had rushed to the top of the gym, and of all things, she had belted out ’Somewhere in My Broken Heart’ from the roof of the gym. “The night after prom. I thought my life was over.”

“The girl on the media tower—you were thinking of that night in the gym, weren’t you? When you talked her down?”

“Yeah.” Her voice sounded weak and timid in her ears.

“You haven’t ever had your heart broken.”

Sam was silent and she sat up to look at him. “When?”

“I don’t think I want to play this game anymore,” he started to get up.

“Oh no, you don’t get to stop now. I’ve told you everything you’ve asked. You have to do the same.”

Sam remained silent.

She reached out her hand and stroked along his cheek brushing her thumb across his lips. “Tell me. It’s okay, whatever it is.”

He sighed and reluctantly answered, not looking at her. “First heartbreak. When you told me you thought I only wanted a one night stand.”

“Oh. My. God. I am so sorry.”

“I know, Jules. And it’s over. Done. But that’s it.”

They sat in silence and then she asked him, “When was the first time you told someone you loved them?”

“My mom.”

“Sam, seriously.”

“My sister.”

“Sam…”

“Never.”

“You’ve never been in love?” She remembered what he had said to the man at the restaurant I’m in love with a girl.

“That’s not exactly true,” He was avoiding the question, skipping around it, trying not to answer.

Jules raised her eyebrows, encouraging more.

His shoulders dropped, defeated, afraid, vulnerable once again. “I love you. But I’ve never been in love before.”

There, it was out.

Jules’ eyes held his as she moved her body, straddling him, bending at the waist and letting her hair fall around them, creating a waterfall of scented lilacs and orchids, bringing her lips close, she whispered the words, “I love you, Sam Braddock.”

Her lips lightly touched his, sucking on his lower lip demanding that he open to receive her. The kiss was slow and thorough, lingering as they felt the texture of each other’s touch. This man, his caress, his love was all she would ever need or want for the rest of her life.

Sam knew he could never have enough. He wanted to possess her, complete her, wipe away every cell, every tiny bit of anyone else that might have ever touched her, been inside her, left any memory or thought behind. She was his everything, was all he would ever want for the rest of his life.


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