Jane

At the supermarket, trolley full, waiting in a line, checking out the checkout girl. My favourite. Short, a bit pudgy, perfect skin, a complicit smile. Impossible to see her without also seeing my girlfriend of years ago, and impossible not to slip into golden memory.

Jane was her name, the younger sister of a schoolfriend, at first hardly noticed. Over the years, taking more notice, noticing her noticing me. She becoming prettier, though lacking in confidence because of her weight. Whip smart and mischievous, and ever ready to laugh at my jokes.

One year, university over for me, she between school and university, taking a car trip together, stopping off for the night. A shared glance and the deal settled, we’ll share the bed. Lying down. She nestling into me. Kissing. Clothes gradually discarded.

Entering her, like a coalescence of flesh. Her juices streaming, me hard inside, our eyes locked together in love. Rolling over, she now on top, big breasts on my chest, my hands stroking her hair. Both of us registering the vast previously unconscious longing. Both amazed at the uncluttered naturalness of what we were doing.

A sexual bond forming, unlike others before or since. Companions, but with a shared bed and a taste for using it. Often, curled up sideways like spoons, me inside her from behind, falling asleep, me gradually flopping out, turning over, wiping ourselves clean, hugging, going back to sleep.

Before long, she off to university and new adventures, and I on my way too. Occasionally, without planning it, meeting up again, resuming, both knowing that nobody else would come close to what we had. Also knowing that we both needed more, elsewhere.

My turn at the supermarket, and quiet banter with the checkout girl. That complicit smile, making my heart clutch. Jane, Jane, let’s meet up again.