We were on the middle bench in the left row, closest to the outside edge. My head rested in your lap as your hand caressed my stomach; you were facing the ocean and I was facing you; your eyes focused on me while I studied a gray button on your shirt.
You bent your body down towards mine. Your vampiric teeth bit through the black jelly bracelet on my wrist, which you lifted in your mouth as you straightened your back, slithering the broken strand of soft plastic off my skin and dangling it inches above my lips. Taunting was always your strong suit.
When I extended my arm, you positioned your hand where the bracelet once lived. My wrist was tiny and your fingers settled into their new home with ease. A perfect fit.
Each of our remaining hands found their way into the same situation. My mind was unfocused and my body was wobbly. I assume you must have enchanted my bones, much like you were mesmerizing my brain.
Left with no option other than to retrieve my property the same way you acquired it, I leaned closer to my prize. Your eyes were light brown but had strange lines of yellow. Some might call the combination hazel. I thought they looked like pineapple slices.
Somehow I was able to prop myself up just enough to touch my mouth to the hanging vinyl thread. Maybe you helped me by lifting your legs. Blue paint chipped off the old bench beneath us, falling between the boardwalk cracks and landing among coarse sand, prickly plants, cigarette butts, bottle caps, and so many other lost and forgotten items. The dark denim covering your crotch bunched and your metal belt buckle snagged on my shirt. We didn’t notice.
I wrapped the exposed end of the severed bracelet around my tongue, pulling us closer. I assume you did the same with the hidden end. Sea-salt lingered in the air, blowing in from the vast body of water only 50 feet away, and glossed our lips. I previously thought mine to be full, but they paled in comparison with yours.
The square overhead light in the ceiling flickered at just the right moment. You let go of my wrists and placed one hand on my hip, the other on my cheek. I reached up and tangled one of mine in your rust-colored hair as it swept across my neck. I think I held myself up with the other.
The bracelet disappeared for a moment and there was no longer anything in our way. It was still there in the crevices, but tricked us into believing it has dissolved with the chatter of the people around us.
And our lips and tongues and jaw muscles did all the things you read about in lust-ridden romance novels.
I don’t remember how long it lasted. I don’t remember if we embraced or glanced sheepishly away once it ended. I think we opened our eyes and devoured every facial feature of each other — your chiseled cheek bones and narrow jaw, crooked teeth and lavish lips, lightly freckled skin and astoundingly average nose; my rounded face and dimpled chin, tiny straight teeth and shapely mouth, porcelain skin and just-a-bit-bulbous nose.
When we arose from the middle bench in the left row, the sand continued to scatter in the breeze, the sea continued to creep in closer to town, our friends still played their music too loud and scared off the tourists, who still walked on the wrong side of the boardwalk and clumsily tripped over their sandals-and-socks clad feet and scoffed when our cigarette smoke billowed too close.
The stained roof of the structure sagged, the light still flickered, the off-white decaying posts were covered with inked love notes and short memoirs and signatures bearing witness to secrets. We may have added our own. The railing remained slick with mist.
I remember you announcing, “You’re mine,” which I refused to believe at the time. Silly me.
*Yes, my friends and I wore “sex bracelets.” Yes, we knew what they meant (although our meanings might have differed a bit from others’). Yes, black meant sex and yes, if someone broke it off your wrist, you were supposed to do what the bracelet meant. However, we mainly wore them for fun. We liked to think we were more sexually adventurous than we were. This piece is about a first kiss, we did not have sex (this day).
And, just for fun (because this is the very first thing I thought when I read the Writing 101 Prompt, hence the title):