Alice
I was 16 years old when I met a girl called Alice. She wasn’t what you’d call your average looking girl. Alice wasn’t beautiful in the conventional sense, more striking; she had long dark messy hair, almond eyes and olive complexion.
I remember when I first saw her, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. She got my attention.
I was working on an art project at college as part of my Theatre course, she was studying Art and had a particular penchant for abstract art and the human form.
I was working late finishing a project and decided to grab a coffee from the canteen. I happened to walk past her studio she was working in, looking back perhaps subconsciously it was intentional, just to see if she was there. She was.
Gomez were playing loudly on her CD player. She was wearing blue denim dungarees with a plain white tank T-Shirt underneath; I noticed she wasn’t wearing shoes or a bra for that matter. I liked her instantly.
I still hadn’t spoken to her except a brief hello in passing. There was something about her intensity that intrigued me, pulled me into that room like a magnetic force- compelling me to become the voyeur. I sat and watched her paint. She knew I was there but didn’t seem to mind or care either way. The silence between us resounded in that room for an eternity.
The beauty of the silence ran its course. She turned around to face me, placed her oiled brush onto the floor and walked over. She spoke:
Alice: Do you like it?
Me: (I hesitated) I’m not sure.
As soon as that spilled out of my mouth, I regretted it!
Alice: Good, better to be unsure than to pretend you see something that isn’t there or that you can’t see.
To be honest, I wasn’t trying to be clever with my response, I genuinely wasn’t sure if I liked her piece.
She placed her hand on mine.
Alice: I notice you.
I wasn’t sure of my response but I got lost in the moment. All I knew was, she had my attention too.
Alice lent over gently but without hesitation. She stroked my cheek with one hand, with the other; she held the nape of my neck, gently moving me towards her. She kissed my cheek and looked at me intensely. I kissed her soft and warm cheek back.
It was if for a while we were soaked in each other’s faces and then we kissed. Her lips were moist and tasted like honey suckle, sweet nector, soft and engaging, a unique flavour. She kissed my hands, arms and my neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps and assurance behind her.
The CD came to an abrupt ending and so did we. We didn’t speak but we still held each other’s gaze. I got up slowly and walked towards the door, she stood up from the dusty floor and said.
Alice: I drew you and I untied you in my mind. I pictured what it would be like to be close to you, to feel you. You intrigue me.
My curiosity around Alice was already aroused however, I felt comfortable not to show her just how much. I smiled.
The implications of this kiss, although tender and passionate, raced through my thoughts in that silence. I felt practiced in the eventualities that would follow on from this moment had Alice been male but felt naive in that if whatever was happening in this white washed room progressed, well, I was not familiar.
My sexuality was not called into question. So she was a girl? People are people- I knew this person I liked. This was the only fact.
Alice looked at me:
Alice: You liked the feeling, irrelevant that I’m a girl?
She was right, in that moment my brain reminded me she was a girl and I felt cool with that. The first moment I laid eyes on Alice, her gender never entered my mind. I saw someone that perhaps resembled myself in some way and yet simultaneously a mystery to me as I was to her. I guess you could say we appeared to be unreachable, an enigma even. When in fact we were open books.
I never kissed Alice again, nor did we recreate that moment. She drew me once but never spoke about what happened that night at college. It was special and I never forgot it, or her.
It taught me about essential attraction without the restraints of gender. The spontaneity of that moment of affection is still with me.
This is a book and website made available to selected persons for specific review purpose and is not for sale or other distribution. Anyone selling or distributing the authors intellectual property will be responsible for any resultant claims relating to any alleged omissions,errors, libel,breach of copyright, privacy rights or otherwise. Any copying, reprinting , sale, or other unauthorized distribution or use of this website and contents without the consent of the author will be a direct infringement of the author's exclusive rights and those involved liable in law accordingly.
I remember when I first saw her, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. She got my attention.
I was working on an art project at college as part of my Theatre course, she was studying Art and had a particular penchant for abstract art and the human form.
I was working late finishing a project and decided to grab a coffee from the canteen. I happened to walk past her studio she was working in, looking back perhaps subconsciously it was intentional, just to see if she was there. She was.
Gomez were playing loudly on her CD player. She was wearing blue denim dungarees with a plain white tank T-Shirt underneath; I noticed she wasn’t wearing shoes or a bra for that matter. I liked her instantly.
I still hadn’t spoken to her except a brief hello in passing. There was something about her intensity that intrigued me, pulled me into that room like a magnetic force- compelling me to become the voyeur. I sat and watched her paint. She knew I was there but didn’t seem to mind or care either way. The silence between us resounded in that room for an eternity.
The beauty of the silence ran its course. She turned around to face me, placed her oiled brush onto the floor and walked over. She spoke:
Alice: Do you like it?
Me: (I hesitated) I’m not sure.
As soon as that spilled out of my mouth, I regretted it!
Alice: Good, better to be unsure than to pretend you see something that isn’t there or that you can’t see.
To be honest, I wasn’t trying to be clever with my response, I genuinely wasn’t sure if I liked her piece.
She placed her hand on mine.
Alice: I notice you.
I wasn’t sure of my response but I got lost in the moment. All I knew was, she had my attention too.
Alice lent over gently but without hesitation. She stroked my cheek with one hand, with the other; she held the nape of my neck, gently moving me towards her. She kissed my cheek and looked at me intensely. I kissed her soft and warm cheek back.
It was if for a while we were soaked in each other’s faces and then we kissed. Her lips were moist and tasted like honey suckle, sweet nector, soft and engaging, a unique flavour. She kissed my hands, arms and my neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps and assurance behind her.
The CD came to an abrupt ending and so did we. We didn’t speak but we still held each other’s gaze. I got up slowly and walked towards the door, she stood up from the dusty floor and said.
Alice: I drew you and I untied you in my mind. I pictured what it would be like to be close to you, to feel you. You intrigue me.
My curiosity around Alice was already aroused however, I felt comfortable not to show her just how much. I smiled.
The implications of this kiss, although tender and passionate, raced through my thoughts in that silence. I felt practiced in the eventualities that would follow on from this moment had Alice been male but felt naive in that if whatever was happening in this white washed room progressed, well, I was not familiar.
My sexuality was not called into question. So she was a girl? People are people- I knew this person I liked. This was the only fact.
Alice looked at me:
Alice: You liked the feeling, irrelevant that I’m a girl?
She was right, in that moment my brain reminded me she was a girl and I felt cool with that. The first moment I laid eyes on Alice, her gender never entered my mind. I saw someone that perhaps resembled myself in some way and yet simultaneously a mystery to me as I was to her. I guess you could say we appeared to be unreachable, an enigma even. When in fact we were open books.
I never kissed Alice again, nor did we recreate that moment. She drew me once but never spoke about what happened that night at college. It was special and I never forgot it, or her.
It taught me about essential attraction without the restraints of gender. The spontaneity of that moment of affection is still with me.
This is a book and website made available to selected persons for specific review purpose and is not for sale or other distribution. Anyone selling or distributing the authors intellectual property will be responsible for any resultant claims relating to any alleged omissions,errors, libel,breach of copyright, privacy rights or otherwise. Any copying, reprinting , sale, or other unauthorized distribution or use of this website and contents without the consent of the author will be a direct infringement of the author's exclusive rights and those involved liable in law accordingly.