Lemon Reef (15 page)

*

The first time Del and I decided to get completely naked together, we sought privacy in one of those very burrows. It was after Del's fifteenth birthday party, and going there with me was her idea; it was her way of saying the hetero couples I'd watched on the beach that night had nothing on us. The conversation began when I had slept over the weekend before.

Del went first. “I'm
in love
with you. This feels right to me, Jenna. It just does.” She was arguing with the countless voices we anticipated or believed we were already hearing all the time now. The voices of parents, siblings, teachers, friends who we knew would consider our having sex strange if not gross. Del's fingertips hooked around the elastic of my panties, daringly tugging at them. “I'm excited,” she said. We'd gotten all worked up from kissing and fingering each other. She lifted my T-shirt and made her way down my body slowly, a trail of soft, dry, pleasurably ticklish kisses marking her path.

“I
know
you're excited,” I teased. I watched her ease down my panty line, the edge of my pubic hair now revealed.

Caught, she giggled, slid her face down, kissed me once tenderly just above my exposed hairline. Then she looked up again. “I meant about us,” she said, her eyes square with mine, “how I feel about you.” Her chin now wedged on my belly button, Del tried to distract me by talking as her hands sneakily inched my panties farther down my hips. When her mouth touched me, I shook my head, playfully mouthing no to her. She said, “But I want to see what you taste like.” Puckishly, “I want to
be
with you.”

I was aching for her, but I still stopped us from going further. I said it was because it was almost morning—Pascale would be getting home from her bartending job any minute—and I didn't want to risk getting caught. The real reason: I had my period and felt self-conscious about how I might smell or taste. Del had shown me how to use tampons, put the first one in for me, but for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to just tell her what was worrying me. I felt more vulnerable with her than I had before. We were departing from our nondescript way of fooling around as girlfriends. We were deciding for the first time what kind of sex we wanted to have as lovers and talking about it.

Del gave up, crawled onto me, and cradled my face in her hands. Her lips close to mine, she said, “You're precious to me. I can't imagine ever loving anyone more.” Her eyes were like ocean-green pools with swirls of gold in them; her voice was soft and confident.

I kissed her, nuzzled her nose, pressed my forehead to hers. “Marry me.”

She laughed. “You're fourteen, I'm fifteen.” I stared at her. “Are you serious?” When I didn't respond she shook her head. “How can you be so sure about everything, Jen? You're always so sure.”

“I'm not sure about everything.” I swept her hair off her face. “Just you. I'm sure about you. I want to be with you forever.”

She smiled, then she kissed me. I kissed her back. Unable to sleep, we lay facing each other with our fingers intertwined and planned every detail for taking what we considered would be our next step.

*

The following Saturday, we arrived at the beach early, having caught a ride with Norma on her way to work. We left my mother at the motel office, told her we were meeting Gail and Katie at the pier, that we'd find our own way home. We had arranged for time—a whole day, and privacy—a remote cave, and various comforts—blanket, radio, cooler. The sandy path to the cave wound through sea grapes dashed with the yellow of newly blooming acacia. I mindlessly pulled one of the flowers as we walked and searched it for its scent, shared the fresh, muted sweetness with Del. It was a crisp March morning. The sky was clear and blue and the Miami air had a subtle chill to it, a last vestige of winter. We entered—crawled under and into—the sea grape cave, two body lengths around and tall enough at the center to stand. I had accidentally discovered this particular spot years earlier, while chasing a wild Angora kitten deep into the bramble. I was cut and torn all over, but it was worth it when I did finally catch her and get to keep her as a pet.

In the cool shade of the cave, I spread the blanket and then turned the radio on low and focused on tuning in to our favorite station. “Gypsy” was playing.

I turned around to find Del dancing, her lithe body tracing the rhythm the way wheat traces a soft breeze. Her yellow bikini glowed against her tanned skin, her eyes were closed, and her movements were seamless and graceful.

Del reached up behind her head and removed the band securing her ponytail. Her hair fell out around her face, as she rocked her head first to one side, then the other, and sang along with Stevie. She opened her eyes, seemed pleasantly surprised to find me watching her, shrugged, smiled in a way that showed the slight misalignment of her bright teeth. Then she put her hand out to me. My stomach in flutters, my heart pounding, I stood on uncertain legs and faced her. Our hands came together first, palm to palm, our fingers intertwining.

“She's coming in the fall,” Del said, referring to a Stevie Nicks concert. “Do you want to go with me?” She asked it with all the tenderness and uncertainty of a would-be first date. “I could take you for your birthday.” I was turning fifteen in October.

My hands were trembling. “Definitely,” I said, trying to swallow away my inexplicable nervousness. We had, after all, been making each other come for months.

“I'm nervous, too,” she offered.

“You don't seem nervous.”

Del guided my hand to the back of her neck, slipped her bikini string into my fingers. I caught the scent of her shampoo as I swept her hair out of the way with one hand and then pulled the string with the other, watched the loops of the bow shrink and then disappear. My hands went around her torso to undo the hook at her back. She smiled at me; I studied her.

Del reached around to the back of my neck, found my bikini string, and ran her fingers down it until she found the end. She held it up for me to see, smiled as she gently tugged at it, her expression and the gesture daring permission to pull it for real. I nodded. She slipped the string out slowly until the bow came undone, and my bikini top dropped by half, my pink nipples springing out from small, white mounds. Del lifted her hair off her face and cast a delicate glance at me. We were standing face-to-face with our breasts bare, any shyness or uncertainty in the past giving way now to excitement and pride.

I reached behind my back and pulled the remaining string. She kissed me and slipped my bikini bottom off. I lay down on the blanket tossed over a bed of fallen sea grape leaves and soft sand. Del removed her bottom and then slid in on her side next to me. She propped her head up on her elbow and smiled down at me. We kissed more, her breath tasting of recently chewed watermelon-flavored Bubble Yum, her hand moving down my belly to my clitoris. I felt her fingers enter and then rest inside me. Del's fine hair, almost red in the dappled sunlight, fell to one side; her green-gold eyes were firm and clear; her face was powerful and lovely against the canopy of foliage and filtered sky. In the future I would happen upon actual photographs of this same face and realize the sadness in its delicate contours and the wryness in this not-quite smile.

On my back, one knee bent upward toward the sky, I lightly touched Del's breast and watched her. Behind her in a patch of breakthrough sunlight I noticed the unlikely presence of weeping lantana making its way through and across branches and thick, round sea grape leaves—a splash of bright color against an otherwise austere landscape. My eyes moved from the budding yellow-and-white sand-born flowers to Del's face, and I sensed in her a similar contradiction, a similar ironic relationship to her own beauty. I ran my finger down the straight, narrow bridge of her nose set against her round face, traced the slight slope of her nostril, followed the outline of her slightly parted lips, as thick as the finger sketching them.

“They're too big,” she said of her lips. She drew her fingers out of me and rested her hand on my inner thigh.

“Are you kidding? You're
gorgeous
.”

“Everyone can see their own flaws,” she said. “The flaws that other people can't see, I mean.”

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.” She kissed my hand. I lowered my finger to her pointed chin, then down her neck. I gently played with the silver-link necklace she was wearing. “I love this.” She hadn't taken it off since her father put it on her neck. Now she reached around her own neck, undid the clasp, and leaned over to put the necklace on me. “No, Del.” I tried to stop her. She pushed past my hand and put her arms around my neck, maneuvering the clasp until it caught and closed. Then she pulled on the chain a little, as if making sure it was secure, gave me the feeling she was claiming me. “It's a loan, okay?” I said, desperately wanting this from her but knowing she was heartbroken over how little she was seeing of her father now.

“I don't know.” She was propped up on her elbow again, looking down at me. “I can't imagine wanting it back from you.” She used the fingers she'd just had inside me to brush some sand from her face. “I love looking at you,” Del said. “You have the greenest eyes. When you're in the sun, they're like malachite. And a perfect nose.” She ran her finger down the bridge of my nose and over its round tip. “And a really sexy mouth. So sexy. Like Cupid's bow.” I laughed. “I'm serious.” She traced the upward angle of my top lip with her finger. “This is the bow, and”—moving to my bottom lip—“this is the string. And the way your lips cut high into your cheeks when you smile. I love your face. I like your hair, too. I know you don't,” she said in response to my facial scrunch. She used the tips of her fingers to wisp curls from my face. “I like it long, the way it is now. Don't cut it, okay?” I nodded. She cupped my breast. “And you have the sweetest tits.”

I put my palm to her cheek. “I
love
you.”

Her eyes glistened. My hand went to her breast. I rolled us over so I was on top of her, her hair spread out behind her. We started kissing, I slid my hips over hers, and our clits touched for the first time, exciting me in a whole new way.

Del let out a high-pitched breath. I felt her tremble. “Wait.” Her voice was soft but firm.

“What is it?” I lay on top of her, my torso arched upward, her hands up behind her head, my hands on hers.

She folded her fingers over mine. “I think,” she said searchingly, “I wasn't expecting it to feel…” She had a deliberate expression tinged with fear. “It feels so…” She looked at me. “Private.”

We were used to fooling around in her room, always worried about getting barged in on by nosey Nicole or upset-yet-again Ida. Out here, there was little chance of getting caught, and all we had to focus on was each other.

“Do you want to stop?”

“No,” she blurted out and laughed at the same time. “Do you?” I shook my head.

She rolled us over so that now she was on top. She bit my lip, then my chin. She kissed my breast, then my belly, continuing lower, until her mouth and fingers were working their way through my pubic hair, pulling me apart. I pushed past the shyness, and I opened my legs wider for her. Del looked at my clit, then she glanced at my face, her expression tender and grateful. Her eyes closed and her mouth and nose melted into me.

It was hard to relax. I was preoccupied with the exposure, the moist leaf stuck to the back of my hand, the blanket not being big enough, the towel falling short as a pillow, Del's legs being in the sand. Del didn't seem particularly concerned with any of those things or even with whether I was responding. She just kept massaging me with her mouth, edging into different parts of me with her fingers, exploring me.

After a while of hanging out like that, Del sucking me and me watching her, she raised her face, rested her chin against my thigh, and said, “The sand is kind of irritating.”

She got a better idea. She brushed the sand and leaves off, brought her legs around and straddled my breasts with her knees. She looked back and checked on me, then moved her clitoris toward my not-quite-yet-ready mouth. I shifted my position, and first my tongue and then my lips engaged. I tasted her for the first time. Del tipped upward a little and sucked the air. I breathed in deeply, the scent of soap mixed with something distinctly more her. She turned her face down, pulled her hair to one side, and placed her mouth and tongue on me.

I don't know if it was the lack of time pressure, the feeling of privacy, the clarity, finally, of our feelings for each other, but what we were doing felt easy. Once in it, we went surprisingly slowly, given how long we had waited. Del set the pace, overwhelming me with the experience of being touched and kissed so thoroughly. What I remember most about how she was with me was her earnestness. I studied the parts of her body I hadn't seen before, thrilled that I could, eased her cheeks apart, touched her pinkish-brown asshole with my finger. She adjusted to open up more, brought herself closer to my mouth. I entered her a little, lightly edged against the rim with the tip of my tongue—the taste sour and sharp.

My tongue found her clit again, and I moved my fingers in and out of her slit. She breathed in, then released her breath in muffled groans as she continued sucking me. My stomach swooped and stilled to distraction, and I had to close my eyes and grab hold of her for a moment to steady myself, the tension edging into hurt.

“Are you okay?” she asked, looking back at me.

“Yes,” I said. “Keep going.” Her clit came back to me, an exposed, vulnerable crimson protrusion.

I felt serious and focused and surprisingly confident. I slowly traced the outer edges of her pubic hair—the color of ginger—noticed the quarter-sized dark-brown birthmark on her inner thigh. Tan lines and shave lines demarked private from public, and I took immense pleasure in knowing my eyes could cross over them easily now. She had just finished her period, and I could see and taste the remaining traces of blood in her come, the reddish-brown hue coating my fingers after I fucked her.