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03.16.01 12:57 a.m.

i like my body when it is with your
body it is so quite a new thing
muscles better and nerves more
i like your body i like what it does
i like its hows i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones and the trembling
firm smoothness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss i like kissing this and that of you
i like slowly stroking the shocking fuzz
of your electric fur and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh
and eyes big love-crumbs
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you so quite new

 -e e cummings 

Tonight she had me. Mind. Body. Soul.
Especially the lips.
(Okay, if you must be pedantic, lips are a part of the body).
Who is this she that makes Xen coo? Why, Kate, of course.
I went to her dorm tonight. Tomorrow she is leaving for a week in Texas with her older brother Martin. Owing to my car troubles and various other minutiae of life, I had not seen the dear girl in over a week. Which, of course, made me less that happy as she is one of my best friends.
Well, we sat and exchanged small talk over our respective days, etc. Nothing worth really recapping.
However, she did an hilarious impression of a boy who was pretending he was an egg frying. She also verbally created a cowboy movie based upon track three and four of a Tortoise album. Which caused me to have a very gooey nougat center, it was so damned charming.
Undoubtedly, I was looking at her with very "receptive" eyes. I would call them bedroom eyes, except I was not in a bedroom (though on her bed). After all of this, I was feeling very warmly toward her, but trying my hardest (get your mind out of the gutter!) to respect her boundaries. Or at least what I perceived as her boundaries. I was trying not to press it. But I really wanted to hold her for a moment, just feel her in my arms. So, I picked up the stuffed horse on her bed (We will call it Oreo, because I decided it was ridiculous to speak with a stuffed horse that had no name, thus I so dubbed it). I confessed to the horse, just loudly enough that Kate could hear every word I was saying, that it is very difficult to be around Katie and not want to hold her. Kate told me that she could hear me, I told her she was supposed to, I was just being cute rather than awkward. Always a good choice.
We talked some more, mostly about witnessing our parents injured and the one time I thought my mother was a zombie that was trying to kill me. I ended up resting my head on her thigh and gazing up at her. I must admit, it was one of the more comfortable positions I have undergone (underwent?) in a very long time. It was also a very intimate (though still potentially friendly) position.
I began kissing her fingers, hand, and wrist. She condescended to allow. When I kissed her earlobe (seemed like a logical progression at the time), she asked me not to, that we shouldn't. I put on my bravest, sad puppy face and explained to her that I did not have any illusions that I could seduce her into being with me. I certainly do not believe that I could. I revealed to her that I wish to show my affections for her by kissing and holding, that is all. I told her that I enjoy the friendship she and I shared, but I wish to give her tokens of affection that I would give to few. This seemed to be a pleasant concept to her, though she said little more.
So back to her lap I went while she took two phone calls. During a rather long one with her mother, she mouthed the word "Sorry" to me. I wish I could relate it to you with the adjectives worthy, but the mouthing made me smile widely. It was also surprisingly warm and sexy in an equally indescribable way.
Finally, she got off the phone and I began kissing her cheeks and hands. She tipped over on her side and allowed my kisses to trespass where they may (with the exception of her lips, to which I swore I would importune entrance. No thief of kisses, I! Oh, yes, and I did not kiss where there was clothing barring me availability. Because I am not a cad, you see). I made quite sure that it was, as I put it, "vaguely not an unpleasant sensation. Vaguely." She assured me my kisses were welcome and I kissed on.
After a few minutes and my beseeching for more time, she insisted that she had to pack for her trip tomorrow. So I, in record form, played the trump card. I will not get into what this entailed here, because that would be impolite, however it succeeded in earning me more time to kiss her. Oh, yes, and it seemed to make her exceedingly happy. I also assured her that I would do just about anything (within reason and my personal ethics) for her and with her.
The pressure built to such an extent that I asked for but one kiss from her lips. That one kiss lasted something like seven minutes. My lips are sore from the length and intensity of it. It is a good pain, however. No pain, no gain.
Finally, after she was thoroughly sated and my want for her was both whetted and slaked (levels, dear friend, levels), she bid me allow her to actually get to packing. I felt I should, as she had left me on a wonderful cloud. I promised her that I would remain happy about tonight and not regret it.
A few month ago (the January incident previously mentioned in this journal), a very similar scene played out, only I had hoped she would wish to be my girlfriend once again, owing to the intimacy and connection we shared that night. This was not so and provoked the lethally confusing "I want nothing more that to be happily in a relationship with you, but I can't" statement. However, I was just glad for what we had shared.
In parting, we exchanged several more passionate kisses. I departed after the third one, I believe. A romantic comedy peck on the cheek on my part.
Outside her dorm, a graceful deluge of fluffy white snow flakes were descending. To me, this was a perfect compliment to the night and I nearly danced my way to the car.
I have decided that it is undoubtedly best not to overthink this. I shared a very tender evening with a woman I love endlessly. That is all.
Okay, so I am so going to overthink this. I know that I would date her in her present state. I do not much care about her smoking, save that I am allergic to it. I actually commented tonight that I wish cigarette smoke did not smell so damnably repulsive, because she smokes very elegantly and pleasingly. The smoke pirouettes and spirals around her head and fades into the nothingness of the air. That she drinks little bothers me, as she does so responsibly. She, unlike some, does not bitch that she cannot get drunk owing to her age only to act as though she is blasted after half of a very girly drink is consumed.
Most of all, she does amaze me. Alone with her, I think I could stay compelled for years. Her beauty, her wisdom, her grace, her humor, her sweetness, her knowledge, her absurdity. She is a stunning creature.
Not just because she snogged me. Though that helps a bit.
See, that wasn't too much thinking, was it?

reading: old letters that may become retroactive journal entries.
listening: Moby's Everything Is Wrong
wanting: A kiss from Kate that I can keep with me always.
interesting thought: Every person who reads my words adds a little bit of power to the Jungian concept of me. This is why Sarah can change stoplights.

Thomm Quackenbush is an author and teacher in the Hudson Valley. Double Dragon publishes four novels in his Night's Dream series (We Shadows, Danse Macabre, and Artificial Gods, and Flies to Wanton Boys). He has sold jewelry in Victorian England, confused children as a mad scientist, filed away more books than anyone has ever read, and tried to inspire the learning disabled and gifted. He is capable of crossing one eye, raising one eyebrow, and once accidentally groped a ghost. When not writing, he can be found biking, hiking the Adirondacks, grazing on snacks at art openings, and keeping a straight face when listening to people tell him they are in touch with 164 species of interstellar beings. He likes when you comment.

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