The party was a success. I drove home with Maggie in the passenger seat next to me, while I went on raving about the night. I had so much fun. The games were great! The food was delicious. I met two new guys that were so cute.
In my excitement I hadn’t noticed my comments and questions were responded by one word answers and mostly silence. I looked over to Maggie who was looking straight ahead through the front window.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” was her response.
“Come on Maggie don’t do this to me. We just came back from a great party. Don’t let the night end like this.”
She said nothing. She was mad. I had done something wrong. Maggie would not look at me, but just kept looking forward with her lips pressed in a pucker. Even angry and at me, I thought she was such a beautiful woman. Her petite athletic frame, her even toned mocha complexion always glowed as though she just stepped out of a shower and her long thin bouncy dreadlocks drew me to her like one is draw to a cute fuzzy puppy. I loved Maggie; sometimes I was obsessed with my feelings for her. She never made it easy for me. She almost seemed to work at angering me or hurting me so that I could feel the pain she felt.
“So what did I do this time?”
She turned to me and yelled, “It’s the same old mess. I’m standing right next to you and I am stuck fending for myself. You can’t even introduce me to people. I’m the new one, the fish flopping around solo and you can never help me to feel welcome.”
She went on. For the rest of the ride home, all ten minutes of it she told me everything that I did wrong that night, and then it went to some things I did wrong on another occasion. Maggie reamed me a new butt hole and degraded me to nothing.
I kept saying I was sorry. I gave her examples of where I honestly tried. I showed her areas where she should have spoke up. That only infuriated her.
I became frustrated. I had done all I could and maybe I could have done better but at some point I could not spend my life holding her by the hand. I knew she was fragile. Her husband had left her. She didn’t have the most welcoming personality in spite of her great beauty. It wasn’t easy to warm up to Maggie. But I kept trying and I kept getting my feelings hurt. I understood her troubled upbringing and the emotional torment that came from being abused.
I had had enough. What did she want from me? How many times could I say I was sorry? How many parties did I have to keep getting her invited to only to see her become ungrateful and criticize me for not being the perfect friend?
I realized I was yelling those questions to her. The argument went from the car to the house where I was dropping her off, still trying to make things right. I was burning, feeling like my skin was on fire, an angered mess with tears streaming down my face and trembling. I didn’t deserve to be treated in such a manner.
I noticed Maggie was looking at me with the sweetest, softest expression on her face. Her arms went around me and she embraced me tightly to her. I could feel her small round firm breast against my large full ones. Something in me tingled with that realization. She stroked my shoulder length hair as she said, “I’m sorry baby, don’t cry anymore. Please stop crying,” in a soft nurturing voice.
Eventually my crying subsided and stopped trembling. She had accepted my apology finally. I smiled relieved the fight was over, though I am sure she took my smile as forgiveness for her putting me through this emotional rollercoaster plunge to self loathing and anger. Why did I allow this woman to have such power over me? I’ve never let a man get me that bent out of shape.
I started to leave and walked to the back door, to my car. Maggie stopped me with a gentle tug at my wrist. I turned to face her. She took my face in her hands and looked me deeply in my eyes and said, “I really am sorry.”
I had no more fight left in me and didn’t really care if she was genuine or not.
She then pressed her full, warm soft lips against mine in a kiss that lasted longer than I have ever kissed a woman. I’ve only ever kissed a man the way she was kissing me. I let her. I didn’t pull away but laid into the kiss. I felt lightheaded and my hands felt warm and tingled. Maggie pulled away slowly.
“Be safe getting home,” she said.
With that, I left, still feeling her sweet kiss on my lips as I drove home. I couldn’t help but wonder what it was I was feeling. Physically, I still felt her touch. Emotionally, I wanted to feel it again, that tenderness, her skin lightly scented with coco butter. I kept pushing the thoughts away afraid I was suddenly gay because I enjoyed that kiss. I knew she needed to feel love and intimacy, especially having recently lost it; me being single and looking left me also needing the personal intimacy one gets with someone they are in love with and who loves them.
I couldn’t help however feeling like I was once again being manipulated the most talented Maggie Shaw. She went to sleep knowing someone loved her enough that she had the power to make them cry and within an hour kiss them with passion. I went to bed wondering how on earth I fell in love with a woman.
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