Never Been Kissed

424

Every night, Starsky dreams of being kissed by a special someone. Will his dreams ever come true?

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Starsky – Wednesday afternoon

So I started thinkin’ the other day about how I’ve never been kissed before. By a man, I mean. Of course, I’ve been kissed by plenty of women. I think I’m a pretty good kisser, too. At least, the ladies seem to think so.

When that man with the platinum blond wig made a kissy face at Hutch in the Green Parrot last month, Hutch was so sweet and tender with him, the way he brushed his hand against the guy’s face. It was such a kind letdown. But that’s my Hutch. Always thinkin’ of others.

I think if someone did that to me in a bar, someone other than Hutch, that is, I would probably have decked him.

Then Hutch said I wasn’t a good kisser in the car. I know he was kiddin’, ‘cause how would he know if I am or not unless he asked one of the girls? Maybe he discussed it with Kathy Marshall? Nah, I’m sure he was just kiddin’. But the fact he was even thinkin’ about it…….

Ever since then, I’ve had dreams every night of bein’ kissed by Hutch. I’ve literally woken up tasting him. At least, what I imagine him to taste like. The dreams are simple and always the same: he leans over in the car and kisses me. That’s it. Sometimes I’m in the front seat and he’s drivin’ and other times I’m doin’ the drivin’.

But no matter who’s behind the wheel, he’s always the one who kisses me, never the other way around. And I always wake up right after he does it, so I never get to find out what happens next.

So then yesterday, I decided I’d had enough of only havin’ dreams. We were in the interrogation room. It was just me and Hutch because the perp had already been taken away after he confessed. We were talkin’ about the case, and on an impulse, I moved my head real close to his. I mean, even closer than normal, and we usually don’t have too much personal space between us to begin with.

I was hopin’ he would actually lean in and kiss me, like in my dreams. It was stupid, I know. I briefly thought about kissin’ him, but I chickened out. What if it was the last thing on his mind? And besides, in my dreams, in my fantasy, he always kisses me.

And then last night, my dream changed. Instead of bein’ in the car, we were alone in an alley somewhere in the city. There were papers strewn everywhere, and way down at the end of the alley, a junkie was slumped against the dirty brick wall.

Dreams are weird, aren’t they? Hutch pushed me up against the side of the building and pinned me there. I was unable to move. You know how dreams are sometimes like that? When you can’t move and when you try to scream, nothing comes out? This dream was kinda like that, only in a good way.

Then he grabbed my shoulders, leaned in close, and pressed his lips against mine. I wanted to kiss him back but I couldn’t move, and then my goddamn effing phone rang and woke me up.

It was Hutch, saying he was gonna be late to pick me up. I wanted to pull the goddamn phone out of the wall and hurl it across the room.

 

Hutch – Wednesday night

Starsky did something weird yesterday. He moved his head really close to mine when we were in the interrogation room, like he was going to kiss me or something. I don’t think it was my imagination. Although we generally have no personal boundaries between us, this was even closer than normal.

I thought about it last night while I was trying to fall asleep. Suddenly my apartment had felt too quiet, too lonely, the bed too big and empty. As I lay there for what seemed like hours, I wondered what would have happened if he had kissed me in that room.

I didn’t know the answer, but it made me recall the conversation we had in my car after John Blaine died, when I told Starsky he wasn’t a good kisser. Of course, how would I know if he was a good kisser? I was trying to get a rise out of him, like I always do. He didn’t seem to take offense that I knew what it was like to kiss him, though; only that I claimed he wasn’t good at it.

So I made up my mind: I was going to find out if he was or not.

I was kissed by a guy once. In college, freshman year. He was a senior and we were at a frat party. He cornered me in the upstairs hallway and planted one on me. I rebuffed him. And by rebuff, I mean I used a college wrestling move on him called a snapdown and told him never to come near me again. He wasn’t too happy about being humiliated like that, but I needed to make a point.

But it wasn’t that I didn’t want to be kissed by a guy. I just didn’t want to be kissed by THAT guy. I preferred girls; always have, but I had a couple of crushes on male classmates from time to time. I just never acted on them, though.

Maybe because my childhood was repressed. Or because society deemed that behavior to be improper and unacceptable. Or maybe I just hadn’t found the right guy to make me not care if I broke any taboos.

Anyway, I came over here to Starsky’s house earlier tonight. It was my idea. I offered to bring over some pizza and beer and suggested we could watch the game together. He’s not one to pass up free food and he hates to eat alone, so I figured it was the perfect plan.

Although he was a bit suspicious at first, because I usually try to wriggle out of paying for meals, whenever I get the opportunity. It’s just one of those little games we play.

But in the end, I guess the offer of free food, and an evening spent with moi, won him over.

So we sat on the couch, partaking of our feast, while we watched the game on the TV. Starsky doesn’t usually drink as much as I do, but I kept encouraging him. I figured if it turned out awkwardly, we could just blame it on the alcohol. That kind of thing happens all the time to the best of people.

So after we’d both had several beers and I gauged we were on our way to becoming shitfaced, that’s when I did it. I was sitting next to him and I leaned over, gripped his shoulder, and kissed him. Just like that. For a split second, I worried he was going to deck me. But instead, to my surprise, he kissed me back.

And you know what? He’s a pretty good kisser. But I underestimated how much beer he’d had, because he was three sheets to the wind by that point. So right after we kissed, he passed out on the couch.

Then I realized I was in no condition to drive myself home. So I had a decision to make. Do I leave him on the couch while I sleep in his bed? Do I carry him into the bedroom while I sleep on the couch? Or do I sleep in the bed with him?

Obviously, the third option was the one I really wanted, but in the end, I decided to leave him on the couch. He looked comfortable enough and I didn’t want to disturb him.

And to be honest, I didn’t have the guts to get into the bed with him.

So I got the extra blanket and covered him with it, and placed one of the pillows from the bed under his head. I thought about kissing him again as he lay there, but decided against it. It would have seemed too much like a violation.

Now I’m lying awake in his bed, fantasizing about him waking up and climbing in with me.

But I doubt that’s going to happen. Not tonight, anyway, because I can hear him snoring away out there, sound asleep. But he’ll wake up at some point, and I’ll still be here, lying in his bed, waiting for him to discover me.

And the first thing I’m going to tell him is that he’s not a good kisser. Ha! I’m going to wait to see the expression on his face when I tell him that. He’ll act real hurt and indignant. And then I’m going to clarify that he’s a great kisser!

And I might try a wrestling move on him too. One that smushes our bodies as close together as possible, a cradle perhaps.

But at the same time, I’m feeling a bit nervous, because what if he doesn’t remember anything? Or worse, what if he gets upset?

Ah fuck, maybe I need to think about it some more.

 

Starsky – Thursday morning

I had the dream again last night. I must have drank more beer than I realized, because I think I passed out on the couch. Hutch must have brought me the blanket and pillow before turning in for the night in my bed. Guess he also had too much to drink and didn’t want to drive home.

Anyway, in my dream, Hutch kissed me, like always. But unlike my previous dreams, this one felt more real, somehow. For starters, we weren’t in the car or in some weird alleyway. Instead, we were sitting on the couch, right here in my apartment, and I remember hearing the game on in the background.

So I assumed that I’d still never been kissed by Hutch, except in my dreams.

But then something funny happened. I licked my lips thinkin’ about it and thought I tasted somethin’. Not Hutch, though. Not what he tasted like in my dreams, anyway. Not what I imagined he might taste like.

No, this was a different taste, like cherry. It was weird. Because why would my lips taste like cherry?

I sat up and glanced towards the bedroom where Hutch was sleeping in my bed. Then I got up and walked in there. I stood over him, watching him sleep, trying to think. Something was nagging me in the back of my mind. Shit! What was it?

Then I got an idea. I started lookin’ around for Hutch’s jacket. Finally found it layin’ on the wicker chair by the front door. I rifled through the pockets but didn’t find what I was looking for. Discouraged, I was just about to give up when somethin’ fell out of the jacket and onto the floor.

I picked it up. I stared at it for a while, thinking it over. It was a tube of cherry Chapstick.

He kissed me. I’ve been kissed! Can you even believe it?

So I think I know what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna sit on the bed next to him and wait until he wakes up, and then I’m gonna ask him if I’m a good kisser. And if he pretends to be innocent and claims he doesn’t know what I’m talkin’ about, I’m gonna show him the Chapstick.

And if he’s still undecided, I’m gonna ask him to kiss me again. And again. And again.

And maybe after that, I’ll finally find out what happens next.

-End-