Amanda Johnson leads a comfortable life. She's married to a successful businessman and her daughter is grown and off blazing her own bright trail in the business world, leaving Amanda free to fill her days volunteering at the local charity thrift shop. It isn’t an exciting life but it's secure, and most days Amanda is content to accept the path that she has chosen.
But all of that changes one day when a woman walks in with a crate full of LP records to donate. As Amanda flips through the stack, there's one album in particular that drags her back to an alcohol-fueled senior year summer outing and a bonfire where she kissed a girl on a dare. She doesn't know it yet, but that very same girl is standing in front of her, all grown up now and peering into Amanda's eyes over a crate of vintage vinyl.
There's a flash of recognition and Amanda begins to wonder what her life would have been like if she had followed her heart instead of everyone's expectations. What if she had turned left instead of right, zigged instead of zagged? Would she be happier than she is now? And when given the chance to do it all again, will she have the courage to change her decision and follow her heart?
“Mandy, your turn,” Kevin said looking at me. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare,” I said. No way was I going to be answering any truth questions tonight. No doubt they would be way more sexual in nature since I was a girl, like would you ever let a guy put it in your butt. I'd heard that one before. Personally I'd rather chug a beer or eat an earthworm with a teaspoon of hot sauce or something.
“I dare you to kiss somebody,” Kevin said, and a collective groan went up from around the bonfire. “Wait, I'm not done,” he insisted. “It can't be Brad.”
The groans changed to oohs of intrigue.
I looked around the circle and quickly settled my eyes on Tom. He seemed to be the safest bet, I figured he would at least be a gentleman about it and not try to grab my ass or ram his tongue down my throat. Tom saw my gaze come to rest on him and started shifting in his seat.
“And,” Kevin continued, “it has to be a girl.”
Tom began to relax, and the earlier oohs had quickly transformed into a cheer and chants of “Kiss, kiss, kiss.” I shifted my gaze from Tom to the person sitting next to him, his girlfriend Marianne. She was so shy and reserved I figured the whole thing would be over before it even started and that was just fine with me.
Marianne wouldn't even look me in the eye and seemed to shrink as I got up and walked over to her. But I had put away enough beers today that it gave me the liquid courage required to slip my hand behind her neck and lean in to touch my lips to hers.
I was honestly planning on a little peck, but once our lips met I quickly changed my mind and decided to linger for a while. Marianne was soft and gentle and I could feel her warm moist breath as she sighed into my mouth. She tasted a little like beer, but then so did I. And overall she was much better than a worm with hot sauce.
I think Marianne was of the same mind as me, because she didn't seem to be in too much of a rush to get away. She wasn't out on the offensive either, attacking my mouth, it was more of a gentle invitation and I found myself being pulled in. I felt a little shiver run through me and a brief twinge down below.
Marianne wasn't anything like any of the boys I had ever kissed and she certainly tasted better than an earthworm with hot sauce. Mostly she just felt good and that kind of surprised me, but wasn't really in the frame of mind to analyze it. I just kept going, exploring Marianne's mouth and running my fingers through her hair as my pulse raced.
The end of our embrace was met with a mixture of cheers and stunned silence. The cheers came from all the guys around the bonfire who probably figured we had staged that marathon kiss just to get a reaction. The stunned silence came from Marianne and me as we simply stared at each other while I tried to figure out what had just happened.
I went to bed that night still trying to figure it out. Brad hadn't given up on the idea of getting me to put out, so I told him it was bad timing and that my period had just started. Not at all true, but it kept him from insisting on zipping our sleeping bags together, and it gave me some time to think.
Though it didn't seem to matter how much I thought about it -- all that night, for the rest of the summer, and partway through college. Even though Marianne's soft honey-colored lips were in the back of my mind for quite some time, I never did figure out exactly what had transpired until many, many years later.
