Don't Forget

Alright. We’ve all played truth or dare and have had little pecks on the mouths or cheeks from our lovey-dovey. I don’t consider any of those a first kiss. Sure, they were embarrassing, exciting and exhilarating. But those sensations are felt as a child. This kiss was my way into manhood. You couldn’t have written it better in any of the smut novels that my mother read when I was growing up. It was, needless to say, unforgettably magic.

When I was 15, I went on a school-sponsored trip to Europe. I had worked all through the school year to save up to go. After my freshman year in high school, we embarked from Charlotte to Paris via New York. We were to tour around France, Switzerland and Spain for two weeks for an eye opening culture shock. About midway through the trip, we arrived at the French Rivera. The town of Nice is a cute town with cobble stoned public beaches, many bars, a museum or two, and a hotel room porch that is etched into my mind.

The boys’ room was on the second floor, overlooking the top of the neighboring buildings. We were at the corner room and the girls’ two doors down. There was an empty room between us, and during the day, before we’d tour around the city, we’d go out on the porch to see if the girls were out there talking, smoking or whatever.

Our chaperone had set limits on our drinking. In the United States, we wouldn’t legally be able to drink for another few years. In Europe, well, we lived it up, but that’s another story.

Only two drinks each this night. That’s it, no more because she could send us home if we misbehaved. Yea right. We’d heard this threat several times during the trip, but alas, this time she seemed sincere. We settled in at a bar called the Pam-Pam. It was a beach-theme bar/restaurant that was a few blocks from our hotel, being a few blocks further from the beach. We all sat down at a set of tables that sat all 12 of us. We picked up the drink menus and started deciding.

We had to outsmart Madam Robert (pronounced row-bare. She’d have your hide if you actually pronounced it as it is spelled!). Two drinks? Who did she think she was? We were legal here; we should be able to enjoy in the festivities of the culture we were in! The drink menu shined with many fruity sounding drinks. As it was all in French, we were a little intimidated at the names. Our thoughts turned to our unsaid plan of mental domination of Mrs. Robert. If we each got an individual drink, we’d be up and out before we even got a buzz. No, we’d have to buy group drinks and share the load.

The first round of drinks came in an ornate container that fed through a valve at the bottom. It was a fruity sangria type drink that was served in minute espresso sized cups. We began the imbibing little by little, reminiscing the times we’ve had thus far in Europe. Before we knew it, we were all laughing and licking the fermented nectar from our lips.

The well ran dry, so to speak, and we had to choose our “second” drink. This time we went all out and got two watermelon halves that were hollowed out and filled with some clear liquor, chunks of fruit and juice. We nibbled on the alcoholic fruit, sipped the punch, and finished it with little desire for more.

The seemingly defeated Madam Robert, aware that she was out witted, decided we needed a little walk along the boardwalk to “clear our heads.” So we walked down to the beach, by-passing the boardwalk altogether. We gazed upon the moonlit Mediterranean, which glowed in a light azure color. The stars reflected on the sea giving a sensation of the endless universe. We strolled back up the street to our hotel and dispersed to our rooms. With our minds in a fog, we wanted more booze, but were tired from our journey.

The phone rang with a room-to-room ring. We were afraid it was Mrs. Robert calling to check in on us, but alas, it was the girls in the room two doors down. Cindy Hervey was her name. She was a gorgeous buxom blond who was three years my senior. She wanted me to come over, as her roommate, Lisa, was drunk and a little hard to manage.

In my drunken state, I thought our doors were being watched by our chaperone. Perhaps she had slipped a few francs to the hotel bag boys to watch the doors to dissuade any late night frolicking. I couldn’t figure out what to do. This time, I had to outsmart Madam Robert on my own. I thought quickly, and told Cindy that I’d be right over. I hung up the phone, announced to my roommates that I was going over to the girls’ room, and don’t wait up. I strolled out onto the porch, looked over two porches over, and saw the path I had to take. The porches were separated by glass partitions, and iron railings prevented the occupant from. I looked down for an instant, and decided it was best not to even consider the fifteen-foot drop down to the roof of the next building. I crawled over the railing, and inched my way across to the next porch. I hopped back over the railing, caught my breath, and was mere feet from my destination. What the hell are you doing?!? kept ringing in my head. You are two stories up and could fall you idiot! No, that won’t happen, Love is my protective angel. Oh, how naïve.

I finally hopped back over the railing and made the inch-by-inch crawl to her porch. I triumphantly hopped the railing and landed with a thud as to say, “HERE I AM, VICTORIOUS!!!” The door was closed, and no one saw my feet of heroism. I knocked gently on the glass door leading to the girls’ room. The door opened, and it happened to be the bathroom, which was also connected to the bedroom. Lisa answered the door, having a toothbrush in her mouth. There was a glassy look in her eyes, and then suddenly, she said, “OH! Hold on, I’ll get her,” and closed the door.

Something was up. Lisa didn’t seem that drunk and incapacitated. Oh well. I forgot that thought the instant Cindy opened the door and crept out and closed it for our privacy. A sense of relief overcame me. This could be good, I thought. I turned my back to the door, leaned up against it, and slid down to a seated position with my legs slightly bent out in front of me. Wow, was I drunk!

Cindy sat down next to me, rather closely I might add, and asked if I were all right.

“Yea, too much booze tonight. I’ll be alright though,” I slurred in response.

“Do you feel sick?”

“No, just a bit spinney…”

I closed my eyes, thinking Now what Don Juan? I’m out here, alone on a porch with a gorgeous girl in the romantic French Rivera, and am too drunk to keep my eyes open!

I felt her lips touch mine, delicately at first, and then passionately. Her tongue probed my teeth apart and found mine. They did their dance of wonders while I lifted my hand and ran in through her soft, silky hair. WE kissed for what seemed hours, but was perhaps minutes.

At a break in our mouth-love making, I utter under my breath, “What about Pete?”

She responded while giving my little nibbles on my ear, “What about him?”

“I think he kind of likes you.”

“I don’t care. I don’t like him. I want you!”

Oh sweet mother, this cannot be happening. One word of total triumph kept ringing in my head, “YES!”

After a bit of time, we reluctantly departed, refreshed and ready to take on a new day. Better yet, a soft bed would do, as I was still feeling the effects of the alcohol. I scaled back over the railing, rejuvenated with love. I made it back to our porch with little problem, a little spring in my step. Well, not too much of a spring, or I would have splattered the roof below. That’d be great. Headline: Casanova scales railing, only to lose love to gravity.

Now I had to break the news to Pete. What a bittersweet combination of emotions I was feeling.

“So what happened?” he asked with anxious eyes. He looked like a little kid on Christmas Eve night.

“Well, she kissed me,” I shyly said.

“Hell yea, good for you! She’s hot!”

I don’t know if it was the alcohol in him talking or the alcohol in my listening, but I could have sworn he just congratulated me on a fine catch. Will wonders of the evening never cease?

I shed my clothes, crawled into my bed, and turned off the bedside light. As I spun off to sleep, I repeated two words over and over again.

Don’t Forget.