The Gift

“Yes, I did. I'm a free agent again.” He suspected from the way Maribeth had asked that she knew about Debbie. Everyone at school did. But they had broken up two days before, because Debbie had found out that he'd gone out with someone else over Christmas vacation, but he didn't explain that.

“I guess that was lucky for me, huh Maribeth?” He smiled disarmingly, and asked her questions about herself, as they drove to Willie's, the diner where all the popular kids hung out at all hours of the day and night. And when they got there, the jukebox was blaring and the place was jammed. It looked like more kids than at the dance, and suddenly she was more conscious than ever of the ugly dress her parents had made her wear, and of who he was. Suddenly she felt every minute of sixteen, and less. And Paul was nearly eighteen. But it was as though he sensed her shyness, as he introduced her to all his friends. Some of them raised their eyebrows questioningly, wanting to know who she was, but no one seemed to object to her joining them. They were surprisingly nice to her, as Paul's guest, and she had a good time, laughing and talking. She shared a cheeseburger with him, and a milkshake, and they danced to half a dozen songs on the jukebox, including a couple of slow dances, when he held her breathtakingly close to him, and felt her breasts pressed against him. And she could instantly feel the effect on him, which embarrassed her, but he wouldn't let her pull away, and he held her close to him as they danced, and then looked down and smiled at her gently.

“Where have you been for the last four years, little girl?” he said, sounding hoarse, and she smiled in answer.

“I think you've been too busy to notice where I've been,” she said honestly, and he liked that about her.

“I think you're right, and I've been a fool. This must be my lucky night.” He pulled her closer again and let his lips drift against her hair. There was something about her that excited him. It wasn't just her body, or the spectacular breasts he'd encountered while they were dancing, it was something about the way she looked at him, the way she responded to him. There was something very bright and brash and brave about her, as though she weren't afraid of anything. He knew she was only a kid, and a sophomore would have to be a little intimidated by a senior, and yet she wasn't. She wasn't afraid of him, or of saying what she thought, and he liked that about her. Breaking up with Debbie had bruised his ego, and Maribeth was just the balm he needed to soothe it.

They got back in his car, and he turned to look at her. He didn't want to take her home. He liked being with her. He liked everything about her. And for her, it was a heady experience just being with him.

“Do you want to go for a little drive? It's only eleven.” They had left the dance so early, they'd had plenty of time to talk and dance at Willie's.

“I should probably get home,” she said cautiously, as he started the car, but he headed in the direction of the park, instead of her house. It didn't worry her, but she didn't want to stay out too late. She felt safe with him though. He had been a perfect gentleman all night, a lot more so than David.

“Just a little spin, then I'll take you home, I promise. I just don't want the night to end. This has been special for me,” he said meaningfully, and she could feel her head reeling with excitement. Paul Browne? What if this was for real? What if he went steady with her instead of Debbie Flowers? She couldn't believe it. “I've had a great time, Maribeth.”

“Me too. A lot better than I had at the dance,” she laughed. They chatted easily for a few minutes after that, until he drove into a secluded area near a lake, stopped the car, and turned to face her.

“You're a special girl,” he said, and there was no doubt in Maribeth's mind that he meant it. He opened the glove compartment then and pulled out a pint bottle of gin and offered it to her. “Would you like a little drink?”

“No, thanks. I don't drink.”

“How come?” He seemed surprised.

“I don't really like it.” He thought that was odd, but he offered it to her anyway. She started to decline, but as he insisted, she took a little sip, not to hurt his feelings. The clear liquid burned her throat and her eyes as it went down, and there was a hot feeling in her mouth afterwards, and she felt flushed, as he leaned over and pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

“Do you like that better than gin?” he asked sensuously after he'd kissed her again, and she smiled and nodded, feeling worldly and excited and a little sinful. He was so incredibly exciting, and so unbelievably handsome. “So do I,” he said, and kissed her again, and this time, he unbuttoned the prim dress as she tried to keep the buttons done up, but his fingers were nimbler than hers and more practiced, and within seconds, he was holding her breasts and fondling them as he kissed her breathlessly and she had no idea how to stop him.