For You, The Stars
Chapter Four: Sweet Child o’ Mine
Cecilia showed up on Friday night. She’d had her brother-in-law drive her into the city. We went out to eat at a New Orleans-themed place in my neighborhood that was kind of loud and boisterous. We sat at the bar where we could watch the line cooks shuck oysters and yell at each other.
We’d been spending a lot of time on the phone during the week. I’d call her from my office and we’d talk for over an hour sometimes. Then we’d stay on the phone in the evening until we were falling asleep. We were having those conversations you have at the beginning of any relationship: talking about our childhoods, comparing likes and dislikes. Our tastes in music were compatible. Cecilia tended toward more trendy stuff: pop music that was on MTV, glam bands and hot rockin’ guys.
But we both liked psychedelic druggy music and we both liked dance music. We agreed to go out dancing on Saturday night, either at DNA or DV8. And she wanted to go to the Haight during the day on Saturday, which was fine by me. It was still one of my favorite places to hang out on the weekend.
That night, lying on my futon together, we talked about my breakup with Simone. I told her about how I’d messed around with Dannie and kept it a secret from Simone, and how much I didn’t like lying. “Let’s have an open relationship,” I said, and Cecilia agreed right away.
In a way, I may have been trying to hang onto her by holding on loosely, knowing that she was better looking than me and might be tempted to fool around. She told me that she had cheated on all of her previous boyfriends, including her most recent guy back on the east coast who looked like Ken what’s his name from the hit Wise Guys tv show. That guy had been the love of her life and she had still cheated on him.
“You won’t be able to cheat on me,” I reassured her. “Because you can do anything you want.” We did agree that we would be honest at least about what was going on. If we were fooling around with someone else we’d tell the truth about it. I was tired of lying and I was starting to think that honesty was more important than sexual fidelity. If we got wrapped up in somebody else and things were getting serious enough to threaten what we had going, then we’d see it coming and we’d deal with it.
This sounded like a much better plan. We both were thinking that she was probably the more likely one to go outside the relationship, but I liked knowing that if an opportunity presented itself I could pursue it without feeling guilty. Also, I wondered if it would take some of the appeal away from cheating if Cecilia knew it wouldn’t be against the rules. She was an incorrigible rule breaker and she seeemd to enjoy a borderline illicit, teasing, jailbait kind of playacting.
For instance, she always wanted to be viewed as younger than she really was. I was 23 and she was 20, but she wanted people to think she was 18 or even younger. I told her I didn’t really want people to think I was going out with a teenager but she said she was already worried that she was losing her looks and her best days were behind her.
“I doubt I’ll even make it to 30,” she said.
“Now you’re being melodramatic.”
That also explained why she kept her bra on in bed that first night. As we made love for the first time without my previous relationship in my head, she disrobed entirely and she showed me where she thought her breasts were assymetrical.
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “They’re perfect,” I lied. “You’ve got a great body.” (That was the truth, even with the minor imperfections, like her boxer’s shoulders.)
She also thought her breasts were no longer as perky as they had been a few years before. That was possible - they were on the big side and probably had begun that long slide, but they still seemed magnificent to me. She was also self-conscious about how they flattened out when she lay on her back.
“That’s what they’re supposed to do!” I said. “It’s only those fake-ass porn star breasts that stick up like cupcakes even when you’re lying down.” I was glad, at least, that she felt safe enough to share her insecurities with me.
When we woke up in the morning there were people hanging out in the living room, talking pretty loud. The sound always carried right into my room, separated only by glass doors covered with in a thin tapestry. Cecilia wanted to fool around and I told her I didn’t want people to hear us.
She was kind of into that “fear of being caught” thing. It seems like a lot of women were. That had been one of Simone’s top fantasies too. One time Simone and I had gone down to southern California to stay in a friend’s beach house and to fulfill her secret fantasy we’d gone out onto the sand to fuck out of doors. I remember some kind of security guard coming by with a flashlight and being totally frozen with fear that we’d get caught or arrested. Simone had gotten incredibly wet and told me that it had really turned us on when the light went by.
“Sure,” I’d said. “It was a turn on for you, but it was my white ass sticking up in the air.” Afterward we seeemed to have sand in a lot of hard-to-reach places but Simone had really appreciated the fact that I’d been a good sport about it.
I guess Cecilia got that same kind of thrill from the possibility of being caught. She played with me to get me up but I refused to get on her, so she started manipulating me and playing with my balls. It got really hard for me not to make noise. She stuck her hand in my mouth and started really working on me. I tried to hold back but that just prolonged the feeling and finally she got me to the point of no return. I used all my effort not to make any sound. I felt like I was on the verge of passing out from the pleasure. When I was finished, Cecilia showed me the deep groove my teeth had made in the side of her forefinger.
“Sorry,” I whispered to her. “No, I think it’s cool,” she marveled.
“Do you want breakfast?” I asked her.
“What I’d really like is a beer,” she said.