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had the darkest skin I had ever seen, had 3 braids of hair that sprouted out of her scalp, thick and knotted near her scalp spindly at the bottom, told me that grown-ups kissed with their tongues. All of them did. My parents? Yes. My baby-sitter? Yes. I didn't believe her, thought it idiotic but she repeated that they did, knew for a fact and wondered too if it felt good.
On a dare Judy and I touched tongues. Girl, she said, are you scared? No, I said, I'm not. What's the big deal? I wanted a taste of being grown-up, a sliver of life I would have some day when I was a baby-sitter myself and tall with long hair. I would kiss long and passionate and love would come from touching lips, not teeth or tongues. I was scared.
She waited 'til recess. Found a corner of the classroom before everyone was back. Nobody was looking. She stuck her tongue out like a dare inviting me to. I admired her courage. Her tongue looked beady, like pink sweat frozen on a slab of dirty strawberry ice-cream. Her gums were darker than mine, the inside of her mouth was dark brown crowned by pink gums mine just pink. The best way is quickly, I thought. I stuck my tongue out, and she moved quickly,
licking my tongue one swift lick. I was surprised that it hurt, our taste buds were big and clumsy
and dry and young and they scraped each other, burning. I wasn't surprised that I could smell the sweat on her tongue, not iron and salty like I imagined mine, but damp and sweaty and her breath short and fragrant like a dog's. My mouth tasted like her tongue, so I wanted to spit it out, but didn't want to lose face. She broke the rules first said, "Disgusting!" freeing me. We both screamed and agreed we would never do that again.
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2000 Carolyn Alroy |
