Taryn

It felt like a miracle that Taryn came home with me that night.

We welcomed her into our group, of course. People were always coming and going — actors being the flighty type — and she was just another person drifting through. The light from the fire flashed across our faces, blasting us with fits of warmth on that cold April night on the beach. My best buddy Steve tended the bonfire while his long-term girlfriend Steph lead a song with her guitar. The singers were singing, the dancers were dancing, and hot dogs and beer and gossip and smores were to be found in abundance. In short, it was a Wednesday like any other.

But all by herself, alone despite the crowd, sat Taryn. Her butt was on a log, bare feet in the sand, and her arms she’d wrapped tightly around herself. She stared at the flames with not even a drink to keep her company. She was Allie’s cousin, out visiting family, she’d said. Yet Allie was belly dancing, obviously trying to catch this guy Raphael’s eye even though she’d never admit it, not making the slightest effort to bring her cousin into the conversation, to make Taryn feel included.

Which is why I sat down next to her, I think. I wasn’t meaning to flirt, only to be approachable, to let her know she was among friends. To be fair, though, she was cute, super cute. She had that emo goth alt whatever look — dyed black hair, full sleeve tattoos, pale skin, dark makeup, a dozen piercings, and some black punk band hoodie two sizes too big, ripped black stockings sliding into heavy black boots. And when I sat my basic ass next to her I could not have opened with a less profound line, feeling incredibly ordinary as I said, “Yo.”

“Hey,” she’d said back, turning her head to look at me.

“I’m Zack.”

“Taryn.”

And then I ran out of words, we both did. We sat there in silence, saying nothing, watching the fire by each other’s side. The group swarmed around us, all laughter and drama and flirting and drinking beer and roasting marshmallows, paying us no mind. Taryn grinned at me, and my grin back was automatic. Words and shouts and giggles of my friends drifted past us as I dared to hold her gaze. Her eyes glimmered with reflections of the tower of flames, timid and intimidating and humble and bold all at once, and I was swept away. A foot of space remained between us — enough space for a whole another person — yet I was growing closer.

Eventually the beer ran dry and the flames ran low and Steve announced that we could all do whatever the fuck we wanted, but that he was going home. Which of course meant everyone else was going home, too.

“C’mon, Taryn,” Allie called, beckoning her cousin along, back to her car. “You can crash on my couch, it’s comfy.”

Taryn stood to follow, but as she took a step away, she swung her head back, eyes meeting mine.

I had no business saying this, not to a girl I’d just met, not to a girl as cute as she was, so out of my league. “Or you could crash at my place.”

Allie laughed, as if I was joking.

But Taryn tucked her chin and smiled widely at me. “Catch you later, Allie.”

Allie’s jaw dropped. “What? Really?”

Yes, really.

Taryn and I didn’t do much that first night. She did sleep in my bed, sexy and beautiful in her black underwear, my cock stiff in mine. We cuddled under the blanket, kissing and snuggling in each others’ warmth.

Waking up beside her was a thrill, evidence that I hadn’t dreamed the night before.

“I’ve never done this before,” she said, “Spending the night with a boy I just met.”

“Same.”

She giggled.

I blushed. “I mean, with a girl–”

“I know what you mean.” She kissed me, her skin against mine the most wonderful feeling. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“I don’t know.”

I made breakfast. Nothing fancy, just eggs and toast and coffee. But I make some mean eggs. Her smile as she sat across the table, sharing with me the food I’d cooked, was appreciative as it was enchanting.

She put her plate in the sink and said, “Allie’s going to pick me up in a few minutes. We’re supposed to go to my grandma’s this morning, the whole family. I can’t miss it.”

“Oh.”

“My parents think I’m staying at Allie’s.”

“Ok.”

“We don’t fly home until tomorrow, though. So I’ve here for one more night.”

“Oh,” I said, “Do you, um, want to come back tonight?”

She grinned. It was preposterous, ridiculous, absurd. We didn’t know each other, didn’t know the first thing about each other. And she was sublimely cool and beautiful, nothing like humdrum and dorky me. “Yes, I’d love to.”

I reached for her hand, pulling it into mine. “Cool.”

I went to work that day, sitting at my little desk, head completely in a fog. All I could think about was Taryn. How cute she was, how sexy her style, how fascinating her tattoos, how beautiful she’d been in her underwear. How I’d see her again that night, how she must look naked.

Then the pit sunk into my gut. What would we do together? What did a cool girl like her expect from a goon like me? She must have had guys lining up to be with her at home, sophisticated big-city guys. I would seem so dull to her, would be such a disappointment. I played the scene over and over again in my head, her coming back to my place, realizing it for the cheap apartment it was, realizing me for the lame dweeb I was, turning her head up in disgust and leaving. Or worse, just not showing up at all, Allie and her laughing at me as Allie explained what I was really like.

I’d have likely gone crazy, were it not for the text message she sent me, just after noon, a little ‘<3’ emoticon. My heart nearly fluttered out of my chest.

I don’t think I got a damn thing done at work that whole day. At five she sent, “Still on, right?”

“Yes.”

Then again at seven, “Trying to get free.”

“Ok.”

A few minutes before eight-thirty. “Are you busy? Can you come pick me up?”

I was not busy.

She grinned at me from my passenger seat, the metal in her piercings gleaming with the reflection of taillights.

“Fun day?” I asked.

“It was ok,” she said, putting her hand in mine.

My heart pounded as it lodged itself in my throat.

We made out as we stumbled up the stairs to my front door. We made out as I fumbled with the keys. We made out as we spilled inside my apartment and I flipped the lights on. “You’re beautiful,” I said, my lips brushing against hers.

She was wearing a black-and-gray dress, the skirt tight around her waist, the collar tight around her neck, the sleeves tight around her wrists. “Unzip me,” she said.

My imagination hadn’t done her justice — naked she was a goddess.

Trim and pale with long, slender limbs and sexy little curves, her nipples were pierced on her slim breasts, her pussy was tight and waxed bare. Her ink, it went up her arms, over her shoulders, covered her back with a pattern of twisted, thorny vines and exotic flowers.

I stared, jaw slack. “You’re perfect.”

“No I’m not,” she giggled, rolling her eyes.

She laid back on my bed while I undressed in about an eighth of a second, showing her my skinny ass like it didn’t even matter, and then I leaned over her, kissing her on her lips, on her breasts, between her legs. I ate her out, drinking down her heat, in awe of her beauty. Then she guided me onto my back, where she knelt over my hips and guided my erection inside of her.

I thought I’d died and gone to heaven as she pumped herself on my shaft, and I’d love to lie and say I lasted for hours, but I did my best. Every second of being inside her was divine, and she brought me slowly to orgasm.

That clarity that hits just after cumming, when the world skews realistic and ordinary, I’d never before had it unaccompanied by disappointment. Taryn, though, remained perfect, and as she rolled forward and kissed me, pressing her body against mine, my world spun around me. Heaven paled in comparison to how I felt just then.

I was having a transcendent moment, but flesh is what it is, and I had an ample supply of stamina. We both did. Taryn and I tangled ourselves in each others’ arms, exploring each others’ bodies, and it wasn’t long before I was inside her again.

When her alarm went off at five-forty-five the next morning, we were spooning in our sleep, naked and exhausted.

“I’ve got to get ready,” she said between kisses, “I’ve got a flight.”

“I need to see you again.” I hoped I didn’t sound desperate.

She studied me, her eyes searching mine, looking for what I don’t know. “You should come visit.”

“I will,” I said. I’m not an impulsive person, but I knew this was no impulse.

I did go visit her. I went, over and over again, using up all my vacation time, spending all my money on flights. She worked for her dad, running sales for his custom doors and windows shop. His old guy contractor customers loved buying from the cute goth girl in the high-viz chartreuse vest. She got me an interview with one of them, and that’s how I was able to move out to be with her.

We rented an apartment downtown. It was small and simple, but that didn’t matter. I was elated that I could spend all my time with her, and when I proposed to her, she cried and said she’d never been happier than right then.

And so this afternoon we stood under the chuppah while I crushed the glass under my foot, and then our family and friends hoisted us up on chairs and danced around us in circles before Steve gave a speech and then Allie gave one, too. But now I’m alone with Taryn, standing in front of a window thirty floors up in one of the luxury hotels with a night view of the entire city, and I’m floating, head in the clouds. “You are so beautiful,” I say.

And she is. She’s still wearing her wedding dress. It’s white, in parts, but with big stretches of black lace, patterning out over the tight skirt and up her torso, over her chest, down her sleeves. She bites her lip, her eyes big and watery, arms wrapped around me as we stand in front of the window. “Remember our first night together?”

When we’d just cuddled, nothing more. “I think I was in love with you even then.”

“I knew. You were so endearing, so free from guile.”

“I was cute, too, right?” I say.

She laughs. “Yes, you were cute, too. Still are, even.”

“Aww, gee. Thanks.”

Her expression grows serious. “We’re married.”

I can’t stop smiling. “Yes, we’re married.”

“Now we can do whatever we want.”

“I thought we already were doing whatever we wanted.”

She’s so serious, it’s intoxicating. “Yes, but now we can do whatever we want, married.”

I don’t understand what she means, not really. But she kisses me, a kiss so earnest and selfless and baked heavy with intention. Our arms entwine as we pull into each other. Moving to the oversized, plush bed happens naturally.

We make out, and it’s frantic. Not from rushing, but from our energy, from our excitement of being with each other, from standing at the precipice of the rest of our lives and knowing our years will be spent in each other’s arms.

She fumbles with my cummerbund and grumbles, “Why is there so much clothing?”

I chuckle.

Our clothes end up scattered across the couch, around the coffee table.

Taryn, naked, body pressed against mine, fills me with the same thrill it always has. But something about this honeymoon suite, it’s vaulted ceilings, it’s too-large floorplan, makes us seem like impostors. How can Taryn and I belong here? This is for married people — and then I have to remind myself again, we are married, and the thrill hits all over again.

“What?” she says, frowning.

“I just love you so much.” I pull her into me.

My erection brushes her thigh, not for the first time. I feel her heat, her arousal.

There is no hurry, but we both need each other, and as I enter her for the first time as a married couple, it is as if it’s the very first time ever, with any partner. It’s revelatory, incredible, our eyes wide with discovery, gazes fixed on one another’s, rediscovering love through each other’s reactions.

It’s unbelievable, what effect has been wrought by two little signatures on a piece of paper.

We fuck, a patient interplay. We know each other’s bodies, know how to please one another. And yet every experience is new, every pleasure the thrill of discovery.

Taryn rides me cowgirl, impaling herself on my erection, making herself sticky with sweat as she pants and moans. I climb around her, fuck her from behind until I wear myself out and collapse back onto my heels. She turns around, sits on my lap, and we make love slowly. Her skin is hot, slick with perspiration, her taut curves so sexy in my grasp. I push her onto her back, spreading her legs. I lay down on top of her, and we fuck face to face.

“I love you,” she whispers, her lips nearly brushing mine.

I groan, tensing, cumming. I’m deep inside her, pumping my bride full of my seed. Even though I’ve done this many times before, today it’s different. It’s a new level of exhilarating, new height of fulfilling.

I sink my weight onto her, and she clings to me, happy to hold me. We stay that way, my cock inside her until I finally roll over onto my back. My words push out from around heavy breathing, “I love you, too.”