We moved most of Kendra’s furniture into a long-term storage unit, set her drums up on a sheepskin rug next to the couch, and then spent the rest of the evening unpacking her boxes. She really didn’t have much—a very minimalist wardrobe, some sheet music, a few books on drumming. The biggest percentage of her belongings were drum-related—spare drum heads, sticks, drum keys, and other little parts. I also had few belongings, so finding storage space for her things wasn’t much of a problem.
I cooked dinner for us—chicken thighs braised in turmeric and fresh lime, served over a bed of couscous—while she continued to organize her things. We enjoyed our first dinner living together with a nice bottle of wine, and George Benson’s liquid-smooth guitar licks playing over the stereo. After eating, Kendra went back upstairs to finish putting away her stuff. I poured myself another glass of wine and went to the window to look at the mass of ideas I’d written out across the glass. It was a promising start, and definitely a change from the work I’d been doing before. I had direction again.
Struck by a sudden bolt of inspiration, I exchanged my wine glass for a dry erase marker and started to jot more notes and ideas onto the window. All sorts of exciting possibilities for the project were coming into my head now, and the more I wrote the easier the ideas seemed to flow from my hand. I thought of Kendra playing the drums, and how she’d close her eyes, completely immersed in the passion of the music. I tried to channel that energy now.
“This is good,” I said to myself as I took a step back to examine my work. I set the marker down on my desk and realized that I’d been at it for almost an hour. The lights of nighttime Rosebridge sparkled between the scribbles of text, and I could see the Beasley University Library off in the distance, a huge, 19th century brick building with a pointed clock tower.
I grabbed my glass and swallowed down the remainder of the wine, and then I went back to the kitchen to put it in the dishwasher. The gleam of Kendra’s drum kit in the living room caught my eye, and I found myself drawn over to it. I walked around it, taking in its gorgeous shimmering chrome frame. I reached out and slowly, reverently, touched the tom-tom’s battered head. It was thrilling to touch Kendra’s drums, knowing her amazing skill. They felt almost holy.
Not too long ago, I would’ve thought what I was doing right now was completely insane. I never would’ve thought I’d be in a relationship with a woman, let alone be madly in love with her, and living with her—all in such an insanely short amount of time.
Life is crazy. Who could’ve thought things would ever go like this?
I’d always been so sure I knew how my life would go, and so certain about my values and views on things. I realized now that anything was possible. Anything could happen—and it felt remarkably liberating. The thing was, I hadn’t even known I’d been a prisoner.
I went upstairs to see how Kendra was doing, and found her sprawled face down on the bed asleep. She’d knocked out in middle of organizing her things. I smiled—seeing her sleeping there on my bed made me feel ridiculously happy. I went up and sat on the edge of the bed and stroked her hair.
I love this girl, I thought, awed. I want to know everything about her. I want to be by her side and help her meet her potential. I want to help her succeed and do everything she wants to do.
I suspected that Kendra needed closure, even though she was so adamant that she didn’t want to return to school. She was stubborn as hell, after all. Whether or not she actually needed to finish with her schooling and get a degree, I didn’t know. I felt like Kendra could make her way as a professional drummer already, but it was possible she’d always carry a block with her the rest of her life if she refused to confront her teacher.
There had to be some way I could help her, but I knew I couldn't force her to go back to school, even if I did offer to pay for the tuition.
Kendra stirred and looked up, sleepily. “Hmmm? Oh, no. Did I pass out?”
“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “It’s okay. You had a pretty intense day today. I bet you’re drained as hell.”
She nodded. “Yeah. Man. What a crazy day.”
“Just sleep,” I said.
“No, I’m all dirty from doing the moving.” She sat up and smiled groggily at me. “I need to shower first.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I kind of like you dirty.” I leaned in and kissed her.
“Mm, yeah?” She drew her arms around my neck and pulled me on top of her. I slid my hand between her legs and could feel her warmth. She gasped.
“Seems like you’re awake,” I said, grinning.
Kendra didn’t waste any time going slow. She dipped her hand into my underwear, and I was immediately wet for her.
“You too,” she said.
I pushed her pants down her thighs and returned the favor, massaging her with my fingertips. We kissed as we touched each other, and Kendra moaned against my lips as the fingers of her free hand clawed at my back. She pulled me closer and nipped at my ear, and then sucked and kissed my neck down to my collarbone.
I wanted to taste her again, so I flipped myself around and positioned myself so that she could go down on me at the same time. I couldn’t see what she was doing, so when I felt her tongue glide across my opening, I groaned out in surprise. Kendra ran her palms along my ass and pulled me down closer to her face, alternating between sucking my clit and probing her tongue into me. It was hard for me to concentrate on what I was doing. She would do something crazy to me with her tongue or her lips, and I’d lose myself to a desperate moan.
I found myself feeling a little competitive. I wanted her to feel as good as she was making me feel—after all, I’d had more practice than she had—but it seemed like no matter what I did, Kendra was taking the trophy for technique. I continued to be surprised about how naughty and creative she was. Even though she was fairly reserved normally, her technique in bed was like her drumming—passionate and unreserved.
“W-wait,” I stammered, rolling off of her. “Keep that up, and I’m and I’m going to come right here. You’re too fucking good at that.”
Kendra turned onto her stomach and then pushed her ass up in the air, like a cat stretching. “You’re not done, are you?”
“Hell, no,” I said, jumping off. “How do you feel about trying out some more toys?”
“Sounds fun.”
I opened a drawer and retrieved a double-sided dildo.” Kendra’s eyes widened.