Wiggle Toes
by David Thow
“Sh,” Jenny whispered, “my parents are right upstairs.” We were necking in the rec room. “You’re being loud.”
“I am?”
“You sound like an orangutan.”
“I’ll fix that…Hey, why are you buttoning up your blouse?”
“Let’s talk.”
“I prefer this.”
“That’s life. Sit up.”
Jenny’s a spunky brunette bundle with an opinion about everything and the cutest, upturned nose in the world.
We sat facing the television. I yawned with outstretched arms and casually placed one around her shoulders.
“Park your hormones, cowboy.”
“Am I allowed to breathe?”
“If you must. I have a question. Why haven’t you asked me to the junior prom?”
I hadn’t thought twice about it. However, figured best not to lead with that.
I decided to have some fun. I pressed up against her. “Mon chéri,” I said in a lame accent, “will you be mon, how you say, prom squeeze? Is good? Oui?”
Did I ever misread the room. “Not when you ask like that, jerk. Do you even want to go with me?”
“Bien sûr!” She glared daggers.
“That’s not what I hear. Becky’s telling everybody she expects you to ask her.”
I scoffed. “She’ll say anything. Why do you think I broke up with her in the first place?”
“All I know is you still haven’t asked me.”
The moment called for a gesture. I got down on one knee, Bachelor-style, and took her by the hand. “Jennifer Bertha (she hates that name which is precisely the same reason I like saying it sometimes) Rosinsky, it would be my humble honor to accompany you to the Junior High School prom. And if agreeable, do you want the chicken or the fish?”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“How long have you been waiting to slip that into a sentence?”
“Stop teasing.” She pushed me over onto the carpet and hopped on top.
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s a minuscule maybe. Good thing you’re marginally handsome otherwise....”
She kissed me with soft little pecks. I pulled her closer. Our lips opened. I slid one hand under her blouse, the other cradled the small of her back.
Then, without forethought, I slowly began grinding against her thigh. She seemed game. We gyrated in unison. Pelvic thrusting was involved. It got pretty hot and heavy—not that I have any expertise in the hot or the heavy department. Before then, it was mainly French kissing and on a good day second base but nothing comparable to this situation.
An expansion of a sort ensued inside my jeans—it was not unpleasant but I felt it, like a deep tissue massage. Whatever was going on, it only spurred me onwards, and upwards. On the brink of no return, my toes wiggled frantically. And then the spasmodic release. Holy moly! Was definitely not prepared for that. I wouldn’t describe it as painful, but I can tell you one thing: it had more than enough oomph to make me cry out.
“Shush!” Jenny put her hand over my mouth. I panted for air. My heart was beating like gangbusters.
Once my vitals stabilized, I felt the uh-oh down there, you know, in my Fruit-of-the-Looms. Warm, like the wax that drips from a candle. I didn’t know yet, but in seconds it would cool off and congeal like a piece of chewed up and discarded bubble-gum. Yukky.
So there was that.
And then I thought, what if this gets out? One wrong word from Little Miss Upturned Nose and this’ll spread like a California wildfire. Teenagers live for this stuff. I’d be a laughingstock; forever known by some horrible nickname like preemie or wiggle toes.
Jenny rested her head onto my ribcage. I didn’t know what to say except, “I’m sorry.”
She gently stroked my chest. “Whatever happens between us, stays between us. Always.”
How do you spell relief?
Still, this hadn’t been my finest Churchillian hour. We only recently started dating. No way she tolerates an idiot who can’t control his…ahem… apparatus. I wanted to get up and clean off, but I didn’t want to move with my long-term fate hanging in the balance.
Jenny lifted her head. “Did you know I like orchids?” Nope. “The Cattleyas are my favorite.” The who? “I think they would make for a lovely corsage.”
I’m sure you’re right, I thought, as a wisp of a smile cut across my face.
David Thow was born in Winnipeg and educated at the University of Manitoba. He lives in Toronto, Ontario where he practices medicine. He can be contacted at david_thow2018@yahoo.com.