As an author of romance books, I’ve had to think a lot about how to write a believable kiss between my hero and heroine. Recently, a writer friend of mine blogged about a special kiss which made me think back to the kisses I’ve received over the years. Of course, my husband came to mind immediately, he truly is the best kisser ever. But how about further back in time? As a teenager I remember kisses from teenage boys, the way they kissed like they were just learning, or had the wrong idea of what a good kiss should be (for example, “He kisses like a fish.”). Frankly, kissing was new to them, like it was new to me, and really what did we know?
There is a special kiss that stands out to me. When I was either 16 or 17 years old, I was a bit of a flirt. I can hear my sisters saying, “A bit?” and laughing, no, guffawing at that statement. Okay, I did give direct eye contact, flutter my eyelashes and flash a big grin, but then I’d quickly turn and wiggle off. I learned quickly that it could get me attention, but I didn’t know what to do after the flutter and turn.
I liked to attend my high school’s basketball games. They took place inside where I didn’t get cold or rained on like at the football games. I knew some basics of the game, but was there more for the social piece and to watch legs run from one side of the court to the other (the players wore shorter uniforms back then).
I remember I was in the parking lot after the game. The overhead flood lights shined down and I noticed the opposing team’s bus parked to the side, waiting for the players to load. I knew someone from the city the team was from. My girlfriend and I walked over to the bus, where several windows were open despite the cool evening air. Several heads had popped out and I asked one if he knew my friend. “Yes.” He said something else about the friend but I don’t remember what it was. Nearby another guy was in a window, then started to hang out. Someone had a hold of his legs so he wouldn’t fall out.
“Kiss me,” he said to me. He was happy, confident and cute, so I stepped closer. Then closer. He kissed me, not for a long time, but long enough to make me feel a kiss internally for the very first time. Then what did I do? I gave direct eye contact, fluttered my eyelashes, flashed a big grin, turned and wiggled off, of course.
I know now that the teen had experience kissing-no fish kissing there-probably had a girlfriend(s) sometime along the way. Or, again it could have been the magic of the night that moved me so, or the impulsiveness of the action so unexpected on both our parts. Whatever it was, I still hadn’t forgotten that night, and that kiss, after all this time.
How about you? Do you have a special kiss somewhere in your memory?