swell of her stomach. She wanted the ache, the fevered warmth that infused her skin to continue, wanted the urgent kisses he was showering on her. He was clumsy with need, almost hurting with his passion. She kissed him back, harder and more urgently than she’d thought she was capable of. She didn’t mind the roughness of his chin, loved the feeling of being carried away on a tide of feelings, the feel of unfamiliar skin-to-skin contact. She knew that she could stop him, knew that she might regret her decision, knew that she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.
‘Ben, Ben, I want you,’ she said softly, somehow knowing that he needed her to say it was all right, needed her permission. She wriggled down the couch and pulled him towards her. His body was rigid, trembling with the tension and excitement of this moment.
‘Alice,’ he said, ‘Alice, show me your bedroom.’
‘Why?’ She knew it was a stupid question.
‘I want to be able to imagine you in it when I’m alone and lonely in mine,’ he said. ‘But most of all I want to lie with you and tell you how you make me feel…’
So she showed him her bedroom.
He had obviously thought about this, he had precautions ready, she wouldn’t get pregnant. Knowing this made her love him more than ever. But then the first time was over so quickly. Afterwards Ben seemed a little guilty or ashamed, but mainly full of pride, satisfaction and most of all tender gratitude and wonderment at Alice.
She had wondered how she’d feel. Other girls had said that the first time usually wasn’t so good, but she had felt full of love, and had taken her pleasure in his pleasure. It didn’t seem to matter that she still felt that warm ache. She was happy, happy in the moment, wanted nothing except for this night to continue for ever.
She wanted to tell him that it had been amazing, that how she felt had been so special, that he had been everything she could have wanted of him, but she couldn’t find the words, was oddly shy with him.
He seemed to sense her doubts. ‘Alice, are you all right? What we’ve just done, it was so… I mean, are you…?’
‘Ben, it was what I wanted and you’ve made me so happy. Now lie here with me for a while longer.’
So they lay together. But after a while he reached for her with new confidence and what they did together then made the ache in her body grow and then explode in a cascade of feelings that she had never thought possible.
There was one last thing she remembered—perhaps the most important thing. They were lying side by side, holding hands. Still in awe of what they had just discovered. But there was something she had to say to him. She had—they both had—the teenage fear of putting anything into words.
‘Alice, that was so wonderful,’ he mumbled. ‘I was hoping but I didn’t think it would be anything like this, and now I know that I…’
She leaned over, put a finger over his lips. ‘We’re both young, Ben. We’ll have careers to follow soon, we’re not to make any stupid commitments that we could regret later.’
He took her finger in his hands, kissed it. ‘I was going to say that I loved you and that I wanted to—’
‘No! You’re not to say anything! What we have just had is to remain on its own and perfect. We’re to keep it and treasure it but we aren’t to talk about it. Now you can kiss me again if you want.’
So he hadn’t said any more. And whatever her feelings were for him, she had kept them quiet too. That had been so many years ago. And now she wished she had said something then—or allowed him to say something. Allowed him to say that he loved her. Of course, now, fifteen years later, he still could say that he loved her. If he wanted to.
Her eyelids were closing, too much emotion wastiring. She sipped the last of the champagne, cleaned her teeth and went to bed. But as she slipped into sleep one last thought crossed her mind. She had loved Ben fifteen
‘Ben, Ben, I want you,’ she said softly, somehow knowing that he needed her to say it was all right, needed her permission. She wriggled down the couch and pulled him towards her. His body was rigid, trembling with the tension and excitement of this moment.
‘Alice,’ he said, ‘Alice, show me your bedroom.’
‘Why?’ She knew it was a stupid question.
‘I want to be able to imagine you in it when I’m alone and lonely in mine,’ he said. ‘But most of all I want to lie with you and tell you how you make me feel…’
So she showed him her bedroom.
He had obviously thought about this, he had precautions ready, she wouldn’t get pregnant. Knowing this made her love him more than ever. But then the first time was over so quickly. Afterwards Ben seemed a little guilty or ashamed, but mainly full of pride, satisfaction and most of all tender gratitude and wonderment at Alice.
She had wondered how she’d feel. Other girls had said that the first time usually wasn’t so good, but she had felt full of love, and had taken her pleasure in his pleasure. It didn’t seem to matter that she still felt that warm ache. She was happy, happy in the moment, wanted nothing except for this night to continue for ever.
She wanted to tell him that it had been amazing, that how she felt had been so special, that he had been everything she could have wanted of him, but she couldn’t find the words, was oddly shy with him.
He seemed to sense her doubts. ‘Alice, are you all right? What we’ve just done, it was so… I mean, are you…?’
‘Ben, it was what I wanted and you’ve made me so happy. Now lie here with me for a while longer.’
So they lay together. But after a while he reached for her with new confidence and what they did together then made the ache in her body grow and then explode in a cascade of feelings that she had never thought possible.
There was one last thing she remembered—perhaps the most important thing. They were lying side by side, holding hands. Still in awe of what they had just discovered. But there was something she had to say to him. She had—they both had—the teenage fear of putting anything into words.
‘Alice, that was so wonderful,’ he mumbled. ‘I was hoping but I didn’t think it would be anything like this, and now I know that I…’
She leaned over, put a finger over his lips. ‘We’re both young, Ben. We’ll have careers to follow soon, we’re not to make any stupid commitments that we could regret later.’
He took her finger in his hands, kissed it. ‘I was going to say that I loved you and that I wanted to—’
‘No! You’re not to say anything! What we have just had is to remain on its own and perfect. We’re to keep it and treasure it but we aren’t to talk about it. Now you can kiss me again if you want.’
So he hadn’t said any more. And whatever her feelings were for him, she had kept them quiet too. That had been so many years ago. And now she wished she had said something then—or allowed him to say something. Allowed him to say that he loved her. Of course, now, fifteen years later, he still could say that he loved her. If he wanted to.
Her eyelids were closing, too much emotion wastiring. She sipped the last of the champagne, cleaned her teeth and went to bed. But as she slipped into sleep one last thought crossed her mind. She had loved Ben fifteen
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