That night my sleep was filled with dreams of me and Tara and our bright future together. No more lonely nights or secretive lustful glances for me. I had myself a girlfriend, and my dream girlfriend at that. The unparalleled joy that filled my life permeated my dreams.
That is, until they were rudely awakened by the obnoxious, bland ring of my cell phone. After muttering some epithets at the loss of my glorious dreams, I groped on my bedside table for the phone and finally found it. On the fourth ring, I received the call and put it to my ear.
“Yeah,” I said, my groggy greeting muffled by my face in the pillow.
“Good morning,” Tara said in a singsong voice.
I promptly fell out of bed and onto the floor, just narrowly missing knocking my head against the bedside table. “And to you to, cutie! But I have to say there you’re the only thing good about mornings,” I replied as I groped for my watch to check the time, “especially at…9:42 on a Saturday morning. Please don’t tell me you’ve been awake long.”
“No, I just woke up and thought I’d share the experience with you,” Tara said, her smile audible.
“Forgive me if my gratitude is slow in coming,” I replied, getting back underneath the covers, “Sleep well?”
“Yeah,” Tara said, “but it took me a while to go to sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“How sweet of you to say so.”
“I got the paper before I called you.”
“Once again, another stellar achievement. Remember this one for your college essays, all right?” I said, playfully sarcastic.
“Oh stop,” Tara said, “I thought you’d be dying to hear what movies are playing today.”
I nearly cursed out loud. I had totally forgotten I was going to take in a movie with Tara today. This morning just kept getting better and better. I hope there’s nothing else I’ve been forgetting, I thought.
“What do you want to see?” Tara asked, “There’s not much out as the Christmas movie season hasn’t hit yet.”
“Well, what do you want?” I replied.
“No fair! I asked you first!” Tara said.
“I don’t care. You choose.”
“No you.”
“You.”
“I’m not going to choose.”
“Fine,” I said, “You leave me no other alternative than to come over there right now and sort this out with you in person.”
“Really! Great!” Tara squealed excitedly, “My parents went out for breakfast, and I’m an only child so there’s no one here that’ll mind. They won’t be back until 10:30 because they’re never back before then. Hurry over and I’ll be ready!”
I hadn’t exactly expected such an enthusiastic response, but I wasn’t about to turn it down. “Let me just get myself cleaned up. I’ll be over in…uh…I just remembered something.”
“What?” Tara asked.
“I don’t know where you live,” I said sheepishly.
“Oh! If that’s all, then…” Tara said, and launched through directions that Liam scribbled on the nearest piece of paper, as well as committing them to memory just in case. “See you soon, okay?”
“You bet!” I said and hung up. I was out of bed in a flash and was out the door, dressed and groomed, in ten minutes. I rang Tara’s doorbell about eight minutes later, full of anticipation at what the day might hold.
I heard someone on the other side of the door unlocking it and then there was Tara standing in front of me, radiant as ever. She was wearing her water polo sweatshirt and some jeans, the latter showcasing her curves very well as usual. Her damp hair hung freely, indicative of an early morning shower.
I stepped inside and Tara shut the door behind me. The moment I heard the door click behind me, I grabbed Tara by the waist and pulled her close and she did the same. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted the neighbors to see,” I said, my hands around her waist as Tara’s arms encircled me around the chest.
“Screw the neighbors,” Tara breathed, exhilarated by our proximity, “I want the whole world to know how happy I am.”
“So do I,” I said, “Have you had breakfast yet?”
“I’ve got some waffles in the toaster that should be done soon,” Tara said, “and I’ve got the paper on the kitchen table.”
We broke apart and I followed Tara through her tastefully furnished home into their sleek white kitchen. The toaster went off as we walked in and Tara took her two waffles out. I personally thought that she should have more, but held my tongue, figuring a movie would provide ample opportunity for such endeavors.
I sat down at the table and began rifling through the paper in search of the movie times. Tara was soon next to me with her plate of waffles, which had generously applied butter and maple syrup on them. She pulled her chair close to my left and she soon gave me a squeeze, though her mouth was full. I smiled back at her.
On the way over, I had mentally run through the appropriate type of movie that one should choose for a date. Obviously nothing too bogged down in dialogue, that’d just get boring. Action movies weren’t exactly the right tone, so that left either sappy romances or comedies. Of the two, I was inclined to choose the first, just because I’d have the least actual interest in them.
“See anything here you like?” I asked as we scanned the paper together, “We should probably go to the multiplex, it’s so much better over there.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Tara said in between bites, “You hear anything about ‘Don and Joe’?”
“Other than it’s a horrible attempt at comedy, no,” I said, “but I hate critics anyway. The moment they start hating something is when I start liking it.”
“I know what you mean,” Tara said, “Do you mind if we see a chick flick? I mean it’d sort of fit us, you know.”
“Only as long as you don’t start crying at the end. That always depresses me and usually I wind up crying too for some reason,” I said, and then regretted the last part of the sentence. I usually didn’t like publicizing that fact.
“Awww, how cute!” Tara said and gave me another hug, “That’s so sensitive of you!”
Well, maybe there were some upsides to being a little emotional during movies occasionally. “Well, did you have a movie in mind?” I said.
“Would you really be okay with seeing ‘Love in the Time of Cholera’? It’s supposed to be this great film based on one of Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s books,” Tara said.
“All right,” I consented, “I read One Hundred Years of Solitude and that was pretty good.”
“Great! I’m almost done with my waffles and then we can go,” Tara said as she eagerly finished her meal. Before we left, Tara wrote a note to her parents explaining she’d gone out to see a movie with a friend and would be back later in the afternoon. “I didn’t get the chance to tell them last night that I’d found myself a new beau,” Tara said, “so I think I’ll hold off letting them know until I can do it face-to-face.”
We both got into my car in order to save gas and sped off towards the cinema. I think we were both a little excited to be doing something like this so impulsively (or at least it seemed like we were being impulsive anyway).
We got to the theater and I insisted on buying the tickets. I did allow Tara to get the concessions though. Since I hadn’t had anything to eat, I suggested we get one of the extra large bags of popcorn that you could refill and a couple of large sodas. We did, and when the cashier brought the popcorn back, I suddenly remembered that this movie theater drenched their popcorn in butter. Yet another good reason to come here, I thought.
“That popcorn is so buttery,” Tara said, as we walked off towards our theater, “I think it’s a sin to eat it.”
“Well the only reason that it’s a sin is because it’s so good. Other wise it wouldn’t be a sin,” I said.
“You always have the best logic,” Tara giggled.
***
“Love in the Time of Cholera” actually wasn’t bad. It was horrible. It made the Hindenburg look like a firecracker. I swore from that moment on never to even read another Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel it was so bad, regardless of how good he might be as an author. However, this had the very positive side effect of allowing me to spend more time dwelling on Tara’s angelic form than the screen. Tara, who thought the movie was mediocre as well, met my loving gaze more times than I could count.
We were the only people in the theater, whether because everyone but us knew the movie was bad or because it was the first showing of the day we didn’t know. But we had the luxury of being as irreverent movie goers as one could imagine, making all sorts of sarcastic comments about the horrid film being thrown before us.
Tara and I finished the popcorn before the previews were even over. I’d since gone back twice to refill the bag and was about to go for another run when Tara stopped me, saying she wasn’t hungry anymore. That was fine, as she’d had quite a considerable amount of popcorn that nearly dripped with fattening butter.
One of the great aspects about the movie theater was that it had stadium seating so there was always a good view of the film (though this time we sort of wished we couldn’t see it). The armrests between the chairs also folded up, allowing young lovers like us added intimacy. We had quickly capitalized upon this service and before long were nestled up against one another. I offered Tara, who was eager to cuddle a little bit, no resistance when she took my arm and wrapped it around her body, placing it right around her belly. It took a lot of willpower not for me to start gently kneading her gut, and I’m talking a lot of willpower. I wasn’t sure how Tara would react, so I figured I’d best leave it be for now. This was in between our second and third bags of popcorn, so I had to get up and leave that wonderful situation.
While I had been away, she had taken off her sweatshirt, revealing a cute, curve-hugging white tanktop. I could see the faint outline of her bra underneath it. There was a pretty generous neckline to the tanktop, but it stopped just short of Tara’s cleavage. I could also get a very good look for her soft, white, flabby arms. Well one of them, anyway, as the moment I sat down Tara promptly wrapped it around me, drawing me back into the soft warmth of her flesh. Her corpulence seemed to fill any gaps between us, transforming Tara and I from two bodies into one. I gently, slowly, rhythmically stroked Tara’s hair as she slowly stuffed herself with popcorn. I noticed that Tara’s belly was poking out from under her tanktop, revealing how her gut formed a cute roll at the waistband of her jeans. The movie had about twenty minutes, thankfully, to go when Tara finished the popcorn. Her tanktop had ridden up even further as a result of her belly becoming even more bloated after an extra bag of popcorn. I wondered how she was doing under the strain.
“Wow, I really didn’t think this movie would be this bad,” Tara said to me as she wiped her lips with a napkin, “I mean, it was sort of funny how bad it was before, but now it’s just plain awful. I’m so sorry I suggested it.”
“Well, I think the company was worth the grief,” I replied with a smile.
“Awww, thanks,” Tara said and gave me a squeeze, drawing her even closer.
“You know, this doesn’t have to be a total waste,” I suggested as I turned in my seat to face Tara as best I could.
“I was sort of hoping you’d say that,” Tara said.
I gazed into those green eyes as I slowly wrapped my other arm around Tara’s girth as she did the same to me. We slowly drew closer to one another, never breaking eye contact with each other. Our lips were on the verge of meeting when I said in what was no more than a breath, “I love you Tara.”
And then we were locked together in a kiss of passion that once begun there was no controlling. We kissed, and I felt myself subject to Tara’s will (after all, I had little experience here, so I allowed myself to be taught by one better than I). While there’s no need to go into details, let’s just say that, in the infamous words of Otter from “Animal House”, it was “a religious experience”. And no, for all you sick twisted minds out there, just in case you’re really in the gutter, I did not do her. Aside from our Catholic upbringings, I could imagine about twenty more romantic places than a movie theater for that. Shame on you.
Well, anyway, when things were done, we just sort sat there, regaining our breath, watching the movie that was coming to its end, thankfully. Tara and I just sort of looked at one another, at the other’s disheveled general appearance and, guessing we both looked like this, went to work smoothing ourselves out for the public.
“So…” I said, trying to think of precisely what one says after something like that.
“You weren’t bad,” Tara said, cutting to the chase. Man, how I loved her when she got straight-forward.
“I wasn’t bad? I’m not even good, I’m just not bad?” I said, feigning indignancy.
Tara laughed and hugged me again. “No, you were wonderful. That aughta patch up your manly pride.”
“Mmm, thank you,” I said, “I feel much better about myself now. How about we ditch the last ten minutes of this thing. At this point, I think both of us wouldn’t mind if Columbia fell off the face of the Earth.”
“You said it,” Tara replied and we both got up and left the theater.
The cinema was much busier now as it was coming up on nearly one in the afternoon. I should have expected that there would have been a few people from the high school there, but I hadn’t really thought we’d run into Christy the water polo player and John, her new flavor of the week.
In case I didn’t give her much attention at the water polo game, let me fill in any gaps you might have in your picture of Christy. She was part of that water polo clique that Tara belonged to. Christy stood a couple inches shorter than Tara and in my opinion not quite as good looking, despite the tanned skin. She was roughly 145 pounds (but I’m a horrible guesser) and the excess fat was evenly spread over her body, creating a uniform layer of blubber. This had resulted in a nice, but not amazing, pair of knockers, an ass that had just the right amount of bounce, and the beginnings of a pot belly that Christy could easily ignore when she got up in the morning. While Christy was sort of hot, some others found her much more attractive than I did, I didn’t like her as she wasn’t exactly the nicest of people. I usually associated a five-letter word was usually with her name.
“Tara!” Christy called out across the lobby and came running over to meet us, her well-padded body jiggling, John in tow, “I never thought I’d see you here…with Liam O’Shea?”
“And it’s a pleasure to see you again too Christy,” I said, and even though I wasn’t Christy’s biggest fan, I decided to be cordial since she and Tara were good friends. “And you too John.” John merely nodded to me once in that quintessential, wordless male greeting.
“You’re not…?” Christy said as a realization suddenly dawned on her.
“Why, yes, we happen to be,” Tara said as we deftly took each other’s hand.
“And I assume you and John are here for much the same reason,” I remarked in a light, off-hand matter, “Got your tickets yet?”
Christy was much too stunned by the turn of events to answer, so John stepped in saying, “No, not yet.”
“Oh you must see ‘Love in the Time of Cholera’. It’s absolutely riveting! High art! Amazing! I could go on for days! Just what you want!” I said.
“Thanks for the advice. I think we’ll take you up on that,” John said.
“Well we’ve really got to get going. See you Monday, Christy,” Tara said.
“Bye,” Christy said, still recovering from the shock as we walked away, hand in hand.
As we walked out the door, I said, “Well, I think I was the last person Christy intended to see with you.”
Tara giggled. “Serves her right. She’ll be disgusted with John by Monday afternoon if she’s true to form. We’re always kidding her at water polo about her paramours anyway.”
“Ah, well it’s good to know at least some things are still predictable,” I replied.