The Consequences of Dissonance - Chapter Thirteen
The credits rolled on the film and Kris sagged heavily against me. She was in the process of educating me in film with some of her artsier DVDs. I wasn’t quite sure what role alcohol played in the process, but when I mentioned that I had procured a bottle of gin through one of Thomas friends, she had insisted upon a movie night as if the two were inseparable.
So Friday night found us lounging on my bed with the pillows cushioning the wall we lounged against, drunkenly watching movies. She had eased me into the evening with something vaguely sci-fi, but the night turned quickly towards chick-flick with this last movie, though I did have to admit to enjoying the film quite a bit.
I stretched out and felt the pleasant fatigue that I noticed accompanied drinking, the slight warmth inside and the faint buzz in my head. I felt that I was still in the experimentation phase with alcohol and found that I had enjoyed being tipsy rather more than being drunk, and aimed for that this evening. Kris, on the other hand, while she had had the same amount as me, certainly seemed to be more heavily affected by the drink and was to the point of slurring her words.
“Mmf,” she stated, rubbing her face against my sleeve. “S’a cute movie.”
“I thought it was an art film.”
“Oh, sure. Mos’ art films are crap, though,” she mumbled, giggling. “I like that one more for how cute it is.”
I hugged my arm around her shoulders and pulled her up closer. “I liked it.”
“Good. Would hit you if you didn’t,” Kris replied muffledly.
“Violent, abusive relationship,” I murmurred, slipping myself off the bed to let Kris settle down onto her side, head propped up with one of her hands. I poked at the TV once or twice before finding the power button, plunging the room into darkness. I grabbed the empty two liter bottle off my desk and bonked it against Kris’ head as best as I could while tipsy in the dark. “You, girl, need water. Don’t sleep yet.”
Taking the sigh as a reply, I made my way out into the corridor, proving how drunk I wasn’t by walking all the more carefully to the water fountain to fill the bottle.
The movie, Amelie, was just about perfect, I thought. It wasn’t that it described my own relationship with the girl in my room, but that the relationship in the film had described just about every emotion I’d felt in all of my relationships, ever.
“Fuck! Daydreaming,” I mumbled, pulling the bottle away from the fountain and shaking the water I’d spilled on my hands off onto the floor. I made my way back to the room with the mostly-full water bottle, taking a few rather large gulps myself so that I could dedicate the rest to rehydrating my girlfriend.
In my room, I found Kris sitting up on the bed with her tired eyes smiling at me, gratefully taking the water and drinking it carefully. I crawled up onto the bed and sat down near to her.
I nodded and sat silent for a bit, feeling a bit of a lump in my throat. The friday before fall break. A week away. “Stay here tonight?”
Kris laughed and nodded. “Duh, not walking back across campus drunk.”
“Good,” I sighed, relaxing to lounge on my bed as before. Mom had planned out most of my next week, and although we were hopeful and had each other’s phone numbers, it didn’t look as though I’d make it down to Boulder from Steamboat.
Kris drank about half of the water before capping the bottle and setting it down by the side of the bed. She grabbed at a pillow and piled it up at the head of the bed, flumping down tiredly on her back. I stretched out on my side next to her and rested my hand on her belly, that subtle roundness I had noticed when we first met always seemed to fit perfectly against my palm. I had even subtly dissuaded her from trying to lose weight because of it, which made me feel selfish and giddy.
We shared a few tired kisses while the utter darkness of the room drove us toward sleep.
I had never slept well with anyone in the bed. Their slightest movement would wake me and even a little bit of sound kept me awake. It was hard enough even with Thomas on the other side of the room, and it was no different with Kris in the same bed as me. I drifted in and out of sleep in the rhythm of her movements, fragments of dream mixing with reality so that I was never quite sure which was which even as we dozed under the covers, still fully clothed.
I dreamt that I was a balloon or some sort of gaseous, expansive creature. Floating, but held down to earth by the blankets, held in check by clothing covering almost all of me. My emotions were expansive, and I felt as though there was a need to get in contact with a similar sort of creature that was oh-so-close. My pensive feelings about being away from Kris seemed to translate into this physical yearning to merge with her even as we slept.
I floated closer to reality and further from the dream as I felt her shift against me. I heard someone’s breath catch but wasn’t sure whose as our arms tightened around each other almost simultaneously. The transition from sleep to wakefulness was seamless, a glide through a spectrum of blues to black, and even before I was completely there, her lips found mine and we settled into a kiss. She slid her knee between my own to wedge my thighs apart with her own, and I slid my fingers up beneath the hem of her shirt to brush my hand over smooth skin and press her closer from the small of her back.
More awake than asleep now, I heard her moan quietly into my mouth and we pressed ourselves closer still. My head was still full of the buzzing from the gin and it seemed to not leave any room for concern as I felt my erection pressed firmly to her hip. She broke the kiss and we stayed silent — it felt as though there was some sort of communication between our subconscious thoughts.
What followed seemed to be choreographed by those same thoughts. The urgency picked up and I brushed my hand up along her back, helping Kris slide out of her shirt even as she reached her hand around to undo her bra. My shirt followed and, topless, we resumed the kiss with a new fervor.
A few awkward moments followed as both of our hands went to work at helping the other out of their pants without breaking kiss if at all possible. I leaned myself in against her front as I felt myself so close to that dream of merging, my arm fast around her back to hold her close against me. Still in our underwear, my arousal had tented out my boxers and was sandiwiched between us, every movement from either person translated into electric pleasure.
I felt her nails as she pushed her fingers down over my back and slid them beneath the waistband of my underwear, grazing over my backside and pushing the garmen down a little ways. With my consciousness starting to invade my thoughts, I pulled back from the kiss and whispered, “Kris, we–”
She shook her head and cut me off by reinitiating the kiss, tugging at my lower lip with her own. I paused for a moment and she took the opportunity to take the lead, sliding my boxers down over my hips. I raised myself up off the mattress a little to let her do so and shivered at the sudden exposure that lead to. It took me a second, but I followed her example, hooking my thumb through the waistband of her panties and sliding them down her thighs.
She was the next to break the kiss as she pulled me to her fingers guiding me towards her even as she freed a leg from her underwear and used her foot to push my boxers down around my ankles. “It’s okay, Cor,” she gasped. Then, “Please…” She pulled me in against her and rolled partway onto her back, the motion completing our union as I slid against her, bringing us together completely.
A corner of my mind was all that was left to observe the rest. Sex with girls wasn’t that different than sex with guys, it thought. No, it recanted, it was totally different. Then even that shut down and all that was left was movement, slow and attentive. The alcohol had dulled our nerves and consequently, the experience was drawn out until, our motions growing ever more frantic, bright lights popped in the back of my skull as my orgasm washed over me, Kris shuddering and breathing hoarsely against me.
We melted against each other and stayed united for as long as possible before, sleepily, we separated and each pulled our underwear back on, each cleaning up a bit in the process. We returned to the embrace and buried ourselves under the covers, sharing feathery kisses and whispering to each other as we held close.
“We weren’t… safe,” I realized aloud, calm despite the implications.
“I’m on the pill,” Kris replied sleepily. “And you’re not sick, are you?”
I shook my head a little and bumped my nose against hers. “You might get the gay, though.”
I felt her smile as she kissed at me, “I think I might’ve given you the straight, Cor.”
Comfortable together like that, sleep surprised me — I didn’t wake until morning.