Trouble

 

I published the first part of this blog on my Facebook page with a promise that "more later" would be posted here.

I took Trouble and Jeep Girl to the theatre last night. Afterward, Trouble and I dropped Jeep Girl off at her home. As Jeep Girl got out of my car she gave me a quick good night kiss. Trouble had seen us kiss before, so I didn't think much of it.

Continuing back to our neighborhood, Trouble and I decided to stop at my casita to eat some brownies I had made and watch "And Just Like That" on HBOMax.

Trouble cuddled up with me on the sofa, a little closer than usual resting her head on my breast and wrapping my arm around her. It was a bit unusual but nice. When the show ended, she rolled over in my lap, leaned up, and kissed me. I mean, she really kissed me, like a grown-up.

I stopped her, saying something brilliant like, "whoa, you have to stop doing that!"

"Why?" she replied.

"Because you're a minor, I'm your tutor, I'm friends with your mother, and you should be kissing girls your own age," I sputtered.

She looked at me with the most adorable pouty face I have ever seen. So, yeah, we had a long, long talk. More later on my blog.

This is the “more later.”

Untangling myself from Trouble, we both sat up on the sofa, close, face-to-face.

The mischievous look on her face made me realize she was enjoying this moment far too much. She was playing with me, teasing, exploring. At that moment I suddenly saw so much of me in her, I had to laugh out loud.

“I have a nickname for you, you know. Would you like to know what it is?” I said.

She kept grinning, “’ Snack’ maybe … ‘Bae’?”

“Trouble,” I replied. “And you are just that. Trouble. You are one of my favorite people in the world, but I am old enough to ….” I stopped myself from saying that stupid cliché, “… to know that you are discovering your sexuality and need to experiment. I get that. But, it is not proper, or legal, for me to take advantage of your inexperience.”

She tried to convince me that she was “old enough” and that she “wouldn’t tell and wouldn’t be a problem,” but I stood firmly and gently, with all the love I could muster and told her it was just not going to happen.

After an hour of heart-to-heart whispers and giggles, she relented in her insistence that we “experiment together.” In the exchange, I learned far too much about her sexual awakenings (thankfully, she has not yet “surrendered the pink”) and finally confirmed to her that I am indeed bisexual

I walked her home in the cold, clear night, arm-in-arm, promising to be “besties” and to not allow hormones to run amuck. We didn’t specify whose hormones.

As I was leaving her on the porch of her casita, she grabbed me and planted a quick sweet kiss on my mouth. “Last time, for now,” she quipped and went inside.