Remembered Kiss, Remembered Love

by Karen Cypher

A personal experience. A friend recently wrote and wanted me to look at an older story. Since then, I have looked at my past works and decided to let one loose. I've been tweaking this tale for the last 5 years or so, but it is really me. An honest (although embellished) narrative of what my life was like waaaaay back when.

It is said that a girl never really forgets her first 'Love'. Sadly, that old adage may still hold true even if her love is not returned. I can't speak for the rest of humanity; but for me? Well... let's just say that statement has special meaning.

As some of my friends here may know, I am a woman who is older than most and younger than some. But my passion for love and life has not diminished over the years. The television show I refer to in this writing was a popular one in its day, but I didn't watch the many episodes as they came out each week... back then, I simply wasn't old enough to stay up that late in the evening. If you get a chance, look it up on you-tube and you can see why I was so infatuated. I don't make the reference to my age so I can claim some venerable position among the lovelorn; I well remember what it was like to be young and full of promise... and I have since found a love so strong that it leaves me breathless! I simply refer to my age to give some credence to my original statement; that even with a lifetime worth of experiences, a girl never forgets her first true love... at least I haven't.

Her name was Barbara. Barbara Eden.

This all happened when I was a much younger woman... a girl, really. The Edens moved into my neighborhood at the end of April and I was babysitting for them by the second weekend of their arrival. They turned into my Friday regulars as I watched their two little boys, with the occasional 'overnighter' as long as I had my father's permission.

I was 14 at the time, and although the Barbara Eden I knew wasn't the famous television actress, the many hours spent watching re-runs of the old NBC sit-com after meeting her, after hearing her name spoken aloud, well... she filled my imagination.

Barbara was 28, married to an accountant and not an astronaut, had long wavy brown hair instead of blonde, and was not quite as tall... at least she didn't seem as tall from what I could gather by watching the television show. But like the actress whose name she shared, Barbara had an absolutely curvaceous figure and dressed to show it off.

Strangely, after the first few times sitting for them, I never saw much of Mr. Eden. He seemed like a nice enough man, but Barbara never really talked about him much except to say he was away on a business trip. It was always her I met at the door and always her who called for any last minute arrangements. As school let out for the summer break, Barbara called on me more and more frequently until she was my only real sitting job; something my mother found appealing because we didn't have much money then. I liked the extra money I earned, even though I spent it ridiculously. But after a while, I got tired of telling my friends I couldn't go out with them because I was sitting for the Edens.

As the months wore on, I became a regular fixture in Barbara's household. We eventually grew closer, as you might expect. We would talk a lot! Sometimes we would talk like two life-long friends. I'd tell her of my abortive attempts at dating, the latest gossip from my friends, and even of my brother's antics while learning how to drive... trying to mimic my father's wild-eyed look as he stepped out of the car after the latest driving lesson. In turn, Barbara would listen attentively, laughing with genuine mirth or looking grave as my stories spun out.

In short, I was pretty happy... a rarity for me at the time! At 14 going on 15, my life was awkward. I knew I liked girls, but had never really done anything besides kissing and slumber parties. I had no idea who or what I was, and during my fifteenth year, I started my rebellious phase. Drugs, alcohol, boys (all of them very, very bad) and I even dabbled in exhibitionism with my brother.

It was a very confusing time for me.

But Barbara was an anchor in my otherwise topsy-turvy world. She had a no-nonsense way, but at the same time, she had care-free and easy attitude about life. She gave me advice on dating that my mother never could. She let me know that some things were for fun and others for love. She taught me to know the difference between the two; at least as far as she saw it. She also taught me that how I dress, and more importantly, how I act for fun, for pleasure, or for love could determine the outcome. To put it succinctly; she was miraculous. She taught me that I was in charge.

It was a glorious feeling. She opened my eyes; opened them not just to what was, but to what could be. She treated me like an adult and I loved her for that alone.

One thing Barbara always did, was attend lots of parties. It didn't matter what the occasion was; Barbara had lots of friends and went to lots of parties. It was always me she called on to watch the boys when these events took place. In my mind, I felt she truly wanted me.

It was late summer by now, and at that time in our relationship, I would arrive early. I just felt comfortable around her. Sometimes, when I had nothing to do, I would show up at least an hour before she really needed me, or even earlier if I could.

She didn't seem to mind.

Barbara had a way of making me feel special, of sharing intimate moments, no matter how benign. I recall chatting with her once as she applied make-up before going out; plopping myself down on her bed as she sat in front of the mirror.

I remember to this day looking at her reflection.

She had the fullest lips... ones that just begged to be kissed by the touch of an applicator; had eyes that were somehow more expressive with the expert daub of a little mascara. Her hair, once brushed and tamed, turned itself into a coif that fit perfectly with the outfit she was wearing. It was (and still is) a magic that I envied and have yet to duplicate.

It may be a sign of the times back then, but overnight parties were the norm. It would sometimes flip-flop between our two houses on where I stayed with the boys, but on this day... Barbara didn't hesitate to ask my parents if I could spend the weekend at her house. My parents agreed. Barbara took pains to make sure I had a good time, giving me the run of the house and laying out snacks, drinks, television programs for me to watch, and any special instructions. I usually kept her boys entertained with games and puzzles when they weren't demolishing everything with their construction trucks or hunting all manner of make-believe bad guys.

But on this night, after the boys had gone to bed and I was lazing upstairs in her room watching television, Barbara called to ask how they were doing. She was only checking on them, of course, but not before talking to me.

Again, I felt grown-up.

I distinctly remember flopping on my back after hanging up, with the television's muted drone in the background and watching absently as the light cast dancing shadows on the ceiling. I longed for the time Barbara and I spent alone; when she was not entertaining friends... like when she sat before the mirror. In my fantasies, I let my imagination wander; I wanted to be just like her.

Standing, I closed her bedroom door to use the full-length mirror behind it. I turned on the light and gazed a long time at my image. As always, I was dissatisfied with my appearance. My body was too thin, my face not pretty, my breasts too small, my hips not full. I wanted to be as curvy and beautiful as Barbara. It didn't matter that my mother told me I was special, or that my father told me I have beauty enough to crack the hearts of men. They were my parents after all.

I left her room; checked on the sleeping boys again, my heart racing at what I was about to do.

I thrilled with the naughtiness of it.

Returning to Barbara's bedroom, I closed and locked the door before stripping myself naked. As before, I stood before the mirror and ran my hands over my breasts and belly. I wanted to be sexy... sexy like Barbara. I toyed with my nipples; pinching them, pulling at them until they were stiff and tingling. Holding my left breast with my left hand, I slid my right hand down over my belly to the mound of my sex. My fingers were thrumming with excitement. I probed with fingers; the tips pushing between soft lips; pushing into the interior as my other hand continued to tease my nipple.

My fingers moved. The inside of my pussy felt wet and hot... heated in a way that I can't describe... the flesh pliant and at the same time liquidly-stiff to the touch as I masturbated in Barbara's room. My fingers moved again; eyes fixed on my image in the mirror as I began a slow sliding in and out of my center. I groaned aloud, closing and opening my eyes in turn to stare at my face as my fingers continued their slow movements.

At some point, I truly don't know when, I turned away to kneel on all fours as a film of sweat covered my face and body; shivering slightly even though it felt a million degrees in the room. On my knees now, with my head down on the floor, I slid a hand between my thighs and began to finger myself again.

It was slow and delicious. I felt my hair; the soft tufts tickling my palm as I reached down. I was incredibly aroused, but I couldn't bring myself to look over my shoulder and into the mirror to see what I was doing... that would be too much. At first, my fingers were inside me, then outside again to find my clitoris or toy with my asshole. I pinched, pulled, probed, and rubbed myself to a frenzied excitement until the eventual climax overwhelmed my senses.

At some point, I started breathing again, but I know I had my orgasm to the crazy notion that if I did this in her house... not just her house, her bedroom... Barbara and I would somehow be more connected.

I was so naïve, but that's all I could think to do as Barbara consumed more and more of my thoughts.

*****

It was Halloween weekend when I realized I was in love with her. I'm not talking of an adolescent crush where I think the woman is beautiful and fun to be around. I'm talking about a life-altering love where I thought I could spend the rest of my days in happy bliss. It is hard to admit, but she had that kind of effect on me.

The weather was perfect; a crisp afternoon, the sky a clear blue, the air sweet and fresh. I've always enjoyed the autumn because it usually seemed more about the renewal of life than any other season. This time, I had just turned 15 on the two short weeks before, and everything about the season spoke to me.

My family usually planned a party around Halloween weekend, but this year my mother and I found we were alone. Robert, my brother, had signed up for the military and my father took him on a camping trip; just the two of them. I guess it was for some ultra-secret Father/Son hunting in the woods, neither one talked about it much. My mother and I found ourselves at loose ends until Barbara called to ask if we would like to come over to her house. She was throwing a party on Saturday night.

Of course, (with my help), we readily agreed.

As my mother and I stepped into Barbara's house to mingle, I felt cramped. The house was full with about 30 people in all... every one of them an adult. I saw that the men and women who attended Barbara's party this night were dressed in a variety of costumes; from Abe Lincoln and Uncle Sam, to werewolves and vampires and witches... the fake blood and plastic knives sticking from them sending a shiver of apprehension through me.

I also noticed that not all of the partygoers were dressed so darkly. There were doctors and nurses, Roman emperors dressed in togas, firemen, and even a few I couldn't place.

More importantly to me, I was the only 'kid' there. Oh sure; Barbara's sons were darting through the throng of people; squealing madly when they got a bit of candy, but I was the only teen there.

Where was Barbara? Why was I even here?

I felt completely alone in my princess costume; knowing... just knowing... that everyone was looking at me and wondering why I was there as well. It was a horrible feeling.

The trick-or-treating had been done the night before, but Barbara still had candy set out in bowls made out of plastic skulls and a punch on the kitchen table that was the color of midnight. Candles were everywhere, casting flickering shadows on the fake webbing that was strung throughout the house.

And then I saw her.

She was dressed in - so help me - a complete Jeanie outfit; veils, sandals, and pantaloons... the color-clash of the various fabric only heightening her beauty. She had an elaborate blonde wig with sparkling clasps to keep the waves in place and ribbons tied on her upper arms that trailed softly behind her as she moved.

She was beautiful; she was a goddess.

Barbara came over to me then, noticing my arrival.

I remember feeling suddenly at ease. If the one person I could ever hope to mingle with at this party sought me out, how bad could it be? My nervousness quelled, my jitters vanished. This was Barbara, after all.

"Hey Kreen!" she said, tumbling into me; pressing my back painfully against the edge of the kitchen island.

She tried to plant a kiss in my cheek, but missed abysmally.

"Shorry, Pincesss." she said. I was uncertain if Barbara was referring to my costume or calling me by a yet unused pet name. It didn't matter.

I was shocked; the tangible feeling of her breasts pushing against my own was sending unknown tremors through me. I could barely understand what she was saying.

I belatedly pieced together her words, and slipped my hands on her hips to steady her... she was drunk.

I was suddenly scared of the contact.

She was still pinning me in place, almost bent backward so my hair grazed the counter. I looked briefly in her eyes, almost willing her to notice my discomfort about this whole thing. She seemed to sober then.

"I need help." Barbara said, releasing me from the painful position. "Please help me... keep me company tonight?"

I swallowed hard at her pleading tone before glancing into her eyes again. Oh glorious life! Nothing would make me happier!

I only nodded.

But for the rest of the night, it seemed magical. I watched her intently... obsessively. I always knew where she was in the room.

I was her constant companion, refilling her glass or walking with her to the bathroom to keep her company while she peed... it didn't matter. We shared touches, looks, eye-rolls... a closeness that we both seemed in sync to.

As long as I could be with her, life was OK.

Three hours and what seemed like two bottles of wine later, Barbara and I left the house to sit on the patio.

Most of the guests were gone by then; the few stragglers almost comatose in the living room from drink... my mother among them.

It seems silly now, but I remember Barbara and I sharing long looks; meaning-filled laughter, and the touch of fingertips across given wine glasses in the flickering stretches of candlelight that lit the rooms as the night progressed.

Somehow, I felt even more connected with her now than I had that night I played with myself in her bedroom.

We were two kindred souls, sharing a common bond. For the life of me, I can't figure out why or when the tension suddenly became sexual.

But it did.

Once we were outside, we fell on each other like ravenous wolves. The crisp air bit into our skin, but dissipated like steam upon contact, with the heat streaking from Barbara's body into mine. She kissed me; first pressing me against the house; the stark contrast between the cold brick behind me and her heated grip making me gasp and grind further against her.

Oh, God! How confused I was about it all. We felt right, felt good, felt perfect, felt like the culmination of month's worth of longing. Oh, how I wanted this!

Time seemed to stutter; long stretches followed by quick flashes. We were leaning against the low cinderblock wall; me straddling her straightened legs as her hand snaked up my bare back to knot in my hair, pulling lightly. Her other hand found access into my scooped princess-blouse and she fondled me there; echoing her caress with her tongue... mouth firm and rich on mine, tasting of unchecked lust and stale wine.

Finally, we found ourselves reclining in the lounge chairs, her lips working my nipples through the material of my blouse... her teeth teasing while her hands cupped me both above and below.

I moaned; felt the echo slide down my body and into hers until it hummed through the contact of her pussy pressed against my thigh... or was it mine against hers? Each time we moved, I had no memory of doing so. And each time, I allowed it; submitting to the desire I saw firing her dark eyes and answering the breathless demands she whispered against my flushed skin.

It was beautiful. The kiss was so beautiful and erotic and filled with such undreamed promise.

Only the sharp clang of glasses and muttering sounds of the guests inside the house reminded us that we were still a part of the world. We had been acting like two teenagers in a parked car! Barbara pulled away and leaned her forehead against mine; her breath coming in short jagged gasps. Far off, to the edge of my sight, a bolt of lightning came crashing down to scissor across the sky, followed by a low growl of thunder.

I closed my eyes as if warding away the storm and smiled into her mouth.

There was only Barbara; her skin scenting the air, her touch turning me into a pliant, willing and oh-so willful partner. Months of longing unrealized melted away under the heat of her flesh. If I had an Achilles heel, I thought, this woman was it!

"Come for me now." Barbara said.

And I did.

I moaned against her throat. Oh, how I came! Just like in her bedroom, but this time I was in her arms, in her presence... her fingers deftly finishing what I imagined we had started there. It was where I wanted to be, and where I felt I belonged.

I saw her several times after that night, but never again as a lover... our families never kept in touch.

I realize now, that Barbara was a very troubled woman living in a marriage she didn't want. The divorce from her husband was ugly in its meanness, and she moved away not long after. During this time, I still sat for the boys when I could, but things were never the same.

I think of her often. Throughout my life, it has been kind of my 'gold standard' for kisses. Silly, I know, but the best kiss I have ever had from anyone was from another woman... from Barbara.