Nothing Lost

The bridge…

Where could she have driven? What could she have known about my past?

I had nothing else to do. After hitting the highway at my personal record of 105 mph, I headed for the bridge. 

Don’t think this is too coincidental. Yes, Sam was there. Her mother’s stolen car was parked on the side. Sam must have known something to have been there that night, instead of using rope or knives or pills like other kids. Why she was trying to emulate my disturbed former self was beyond me. 

“SAM! WHAT IN FUCK’S NAME ARE YOU DOING?!”

She turned, crumpled, looked down at the pavement, and said, “I couldn’t have done it anyway.”

“Of course you couldn’t have. You have way more going for you than I did.”

Sam shivered noticeably and walked with me back to her mother’s car. “I suddenly understand why you – strong you – could buckle under all of life’s complexities. I didn’t get it up until now.”

“Suicide. What a joke. I can’t tell if it’s everyone’s way of saying, ‘Ooops…guess I was weaker and needed more help than I thought,’ or ‘Hey everybody, look at me! I’m the product of your insanity!’ But what myself and all those other bridge-jumping, throat-slitting, yet perfectly thriving people seem to miss is the obvious irrevocability. But I guess nobody ever bothers to even look in front of their faces anymore,” I ranted bitterly.

“And to think I ever worshipped purity. You had already known purity didn’t exist in the context I had thought it existed. But I didn’t know that until AFTER Jackie,” she said dejectedly.

I snorted. “Irrelevant now. Can you drive home without getting pulled over for looking suspicious?”

“Yeah.” Sam got in her car, but I stopped her from shutting her door before I got into the Firebird.

“Hey… How did you know anyway?”

“I knew, Alex. I love you.”

I refused to let her get away with that, even if drops of my heart were sizzling on the pavement. “Don’t give me that. Specifics, please?”

It was the first smile I had seen from her all night. “Hell, I was always in your apartment. And since I was so in the dark about you, I just wondered who this Sasha girl was.”

“What, did you find her number and call her?”

“Once my developing gaydar beeped at you, I wanted to ascertain you were not a *taken* gay girl. Hopefully that information can be obtained in later versions – Gaydar XP!”

Heh. Cute. “Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s not like you don’t have your license. Next time you need to take a drive, steal my car, OK? This is gonna be hell to get out of.” I sighed, “I’ll talk to her.” 

*******

Her mother looked like a demon when we got in, and yelled like a demon, too. Fortunately, dealing with her was rather painless. Sam burst into tears at the screaming and tore out of the room, landing on her own bed. I gathered emotional strength and mental strength, and physical strength in case I too had to hightail it from the screaming witch, and truthfully explained the situation. She ignored me until the word 'suicide'. I thought I might finally see some show of concern for her child that exceeded that of the last time I had seen Sam unhappy in her mother’s presence – after Jackie dumped her. 

I do believe the actual events exceeded my expectations. The previously shrieking bitch jumped on me.

“She loves you, you know she loves you… Don’t break her heart. You saved her life; don’t take it away from her… You’re all she needs… Don’t leave my baby, please…” Sam’s short mother babbled into my shoulder.

Sam had stalked back into the room to witness this interesting spectacle, and I was able to address her as I stood up in resolve and quoted a line from a Dan Bern song.

“’You know I’ll never leave you. *I’ll* never leave you.’”

Sam’s mother wasn’t fully cured though of whatever her issue was, as far as I could tell. Sam knew that. So she invited herself to my apartment. Her mother had no issue with that. I think her priorities were slightly skewed. 

But no matter. From that moment forth, I was fully committed to be there for Sam for the rest of her life.

*******

When we both climbed naked into my bed, we knew we both wanted to be there. We knew what we wanted for ourselves and for each other, and we both knew what we would find in each other. I know that she knew that this was not the ridiculous debauchery of previous experiences, nor the lusty jaunts of her experiences with her first two women. And I knew that this would far surpass the experience with Sasha. Although I knew love, I knew not the intimacy of it until I felt it with Sam.

Simply stated, it was pure and beautiful.

Our first kiss lasted about three sacred minutes. In that seeming flash of time, the past and future were only Sam and Sam alone, and the present was Sam’s silk skin melting into my own, her heart beating into my own in a deep pleasant resonance. The loud and quickening heartbeat between us was ours. The taste on my lips was ours; the warmth from our bodies was ours.

We did not rush into things. Although we both wanted it, we waited until our minds and bodies could synchronize and desire equally. I bid Sam roll onto her stomach, and began to gently but firmly knead her back muscles. Up and down in the stroke effleurage, I massaged her back, gently circling her butt muscles. I traced her gluteus maximus with deep strokes, softening the pressure as I reached the end of the muscle between her thighs, feeling Sam twitch and watching incredulously as her visible opening started to shine with physical desire.

Sam would not allow any more without asserting her worship of the intimacy between us. Rolling over, she pulled me onto her and kissed my cheek, my nose, my lips, then sucked on my bottom lip until a sound escaped my vocal chords and I grabbed her back in passion.

“Sam!” I broke off and sighed, “I want it!”

I never felt more pleasantly naked then when Sam sucked on my nipple and teased my clit with one finger, causing me to buck my hips into her hand. I wanted it badly, so badly, but I loved Sam so much I was driven to pleasure her too. I made sure we somehow landed in the beautiful position of 69. My tongue flew onto her clit; my hands gripped the backs of her thighs, shoving her intimate and sacred parts closer to me and further into me. When I teased her with my tongue circling slowly – too slowly – my lover squirmed and licked at me with pleading. Quick switch – I licked as quickly as I possibly could to grant Sam a good fix. Hard sucking next. I drew her cum from body in passion. Sam, sweating beneath me, gave up on trying her lightning speed licking and followed my example, sucking on my clit as hard as her entire angelic body tensed, pushing warm cum into my mouth. I myself was writhing in pleasure above Sam, and after one intense moan from me, I dove into Sam full speed, bringing my love into a mind-blowing orgasm. 

I was not permitted to leave this. My lover lid from under me, brought me onto my knees, lay herself over me from behind, and slipped a finger into me. Penetrating me from behind with her breasts pressed against my butt, she shook me with her stimulation of my G-spot. Her other hand rested around my leg and played gently with my clit. Pumping, rubbing… the tension built. I came in heavy waves, moaning, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” – to little avail. Sam collapsed with me, her fingers still being squeezed by my walls, sighing, “I can feel it. Oh my God, I can feel it.”

I next saw her in my sweet dreams as I lay with her curled against my side. 

*******

Nothing was warm; we learned nothing new. And sometimes nothing seems to change. But once Sam and I were together, nothing was lost. Regeneration of warmth and novelty with nothing lost is quite a boon to the young hearts in love. I stand before the angels on a bridge, under the stars, and hope that the stars may warm all those who seek it. As long as lungs should breathe and hearts should beat, all humanity should have the gifts of the stars. 

Sam stands with me in the chill. She’s started to truly share my affinity for symbolism. She stands close to me so we may both be warm, and leans her head on me. At some point during our cosmic vigil, Sam says she has finally found purity. It truly exists.

Aye, Macbeth. Indeed, “Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time.” 

I’ll see her tomorrow. And tomorrow, and tomorrow. Every last tomorrow.