More Than a Kiss

Pizza Sauce

Once inside the house Amy was truly awed. The grand central staircase, albeit, in need of refinishing, spoke of women in long, flowing dresses descending to be embraced in their lovers’ arms only to be carried back up the stairs in a fit of unbridled passion. The stained glass windows on the first landing were still intact and the light that filtered through made the front hall look enchanting.

“This is the most beautiful home I’ve ever seen,” Amy said reverently.

“That’s the living room,” Jordan said and pointed in its general direction. “Dining room is over there,” she pointed again. “The second floor has four bedrooms. One is Irma’s unless she’s moved into Petronella’s already. And the other is Edison’s. Two unoccupied. The third floor is Edison’s laboratory and we won’t talk about that and the attic is my studio with a bed. Someday, I’ll have a master suite.”

“I’m only going to let you get away with cutting the tour short because I’m starving,” Amy said.

“The kitchen is this way,” Jordan said.

The once grand kitchen looked like a post-earthquake scene from a 1970’s disaster movie. Amy half-expected Charlton Heston to jump out of the pantry, with a torn and blood splattered shirt, and yell, “Ladies first!” while tossing them out of the burning building.

Amy looked at the bright side. “It’s like starting out with a clean slate. This kitchen can become anything you desire.”

Jordan liked Amy’s optimism. “The stove still functions. We just have to keep to simple fare. I thought we’d have pizza. Of course, pizza isn't the only thing I can cook, you know," Jordan said, opening a box and taking out a frozen pepperoni pizza.

Amy was amazed that Jordan could find her way to the stove much less use it. The cabinets were on the floor, the counters were nothing but makeshift plywood on sawhorses and the stove was shoehorned half inside the pantry, making fully opening its door an impossibility. No wonder she was only cooking a pizza, it was the only thing she could slide in the oven. And even to accomplish that she had to hold the pizza vertically and insert it like a coin into a vending machine.

"Oh?" Amy said. "Are you a good cook? Because I have to be honest, I’m horrible. I even burn Ramen noodles."

"Frozen pizza is my specialty," Jordan said, wiping her hands on a dishrag. "But hot dogs are my culinary masterpiece."

Amy laughed.

Jordan said with an ultra-solemn expression, "I'm serious, why are you laughing? I can make hot dogs dozens of ways. Boiled, baked, fried, charred, sliced, diced, on a stick, deep-fried, battered…”

"Okay, okay, I get the picture."

"I'm like the Forrest Gump of hot dogs."

Amy said, "I wasn't laughing at your culinary skills. I’m laughing at your nose."

"My nose?"

Amy hooked one finger into the collar of Jordan's shirt and tugged her closer. "Uh huh. You have a tiny bit of pizza sauce on the end of your nose."

"Are you flirting with me?" Jordan said, tugging Amy’s hips closer to her own.

"No," Amy said. "This is flirting with you." She stood on her toes and lightly kissed Jordan. The kiss heated up and Jordan pressed into Amy, backing her into the fridge, which was sitting in the middle of the floor.

"Oomph," Amy said, conking her head against the fridge.

Jordan laughed.

Amy rubbed the back of her head. "Oh, you think it's funny?" she asked.

"I'm not laughing at that," Jordan said. "I'm laughing because now you have pizza sauce on the tip of your nose."

Amy chuckled and reached up to wipe it off, but Jordan caught her hand. "Let me get it." She kissed the end of Amy's nose, stepped back and licked her lips. "Hmm, I think it needs more garlic."

Amy stepped in to kiss Jordan again, but tripped over a stack of pots and pans on the floor. The pans crashed against the wall and Amy stumbled backwards into the far wall. She laughed, brushed herself off and took one step toward Jordan. She slipped on a cooking sheet, which acted like a skateboard, and sent her hurtling into Jordan’s arms.

Jordan laughed. "Maybe we ought to sit down. It's safer that way."

"Ya think?" Amy said. She looked around the floor for any banana peels. She didn't think she could live down another trip to the emergency room. “Who keeps their cookware on the floor?”

“People without functioning cabinets,” Jordan said.

Jordan found two chairs stacked behind the cabinets and placed them in the middle of the room facing each other. Amy sat as Jordan peeked into the stove and pronounced, "Won't be long now. It's almost done."

Jordan sat in the other chair and pulled her little rubber ball out of her pocket and squeezed it.

Amy said, "You've been practicing?"

Jordan nodded. "I can almost squeeze it the whole way now. And it's a good stress reliever, too."

Amy looked closer at the ball. She pointed at a blob of paint on the side of it. "What's that?"

Jordan smiled and held the ball up for Amy to see. "Edison painted a nipple on it. She thought it might inspire me to squeeze it."

Amy laughed. "She's very creative."

"To say the least. Now if she'd just learn to finish a project." Mr. Pip came by and rubbed on Jordan’s leg. She scratched his butt and he purred loudly.

“Can I ask you a question?” Amy said.

“Sure.”

"How can you tell the difference between a friend and a girlfriend?”

"Well," Jordan replied, "If I squeeze their boob and it feels like squeezing this rubber ball, then I know they're just a friend."

Amy laughed.

"I call it the titty test."

"I suppose this is the part where I'm supposed to let you squeeze mine?"

"Well, if you insist," Jordan said. She leaned forward in her chair and kissed Amy. As the kiss deepened, Jordan slipped to her knees between Amy's legs. Amy wrapped her arms around Jordan and placed her hands under the back of her shirt.

Jordan let go of the rubber ball and it bounced across the floor. Neither one noticed.

Jordan moved her lips to Amy's neck, nibbling down her shoulder.

Amy shivered.

"You okay?" Jordan whispered in her ear.

“Better than okay,” Amy said.

Amy wrapped her fingers around Jordan's neck and pulled her lips to hers. She sucked on Jordan's bottom lip and felt her body responding to Jordan in a way she had never experienced before. It was like her body had a mind of its own.

Jordan nibbled Amy’s neck. “You have a little sauce on your neck,” she said, nibbling down further and further.

Amy shivered.

“Whoops, there’s some on your collarbone, too.”

Amy moaned as Jordan licked and bit her collarbone.

Jordan breathed, “Wait. There’s more sauce. Let me get it.” She lifted Amy’s shirt and nipped and licked, opening her bra clasp, and letting her mouth and tongue roam over the softness of her breasts. She teased a nipple with her tongue and when Amy moaned, she sucked the hard nipple into her mouth.

Amy wrapped her legs around Jordan's waist and arched her back. She felt as if every nerve, every fiber of her being was on fire.

"There’s a fire," somebody said.

“There sure is,” Amy mumbled.

"Fire!" the voice screamed.

Amy's eyes popped open. Fire? Where?

Edison stood in the doorway with the yellow titty ball in her hand. She was staring at the cloud of black smoke rolling out of the stove. “The oven is on fire!”

Jordan jumped to her feet just as tiny blue and orange flames shot out of the burners on top of the stove. Mr. Pip howled, arched his back, hissed and leapt up on the top of the cabinets. Jordan danced from foot to foot and flapped her arms, saying “Fire, fire, fire, fire.” At first Amy thought she was trying to shoo away the smoke, but then she realized Jordan was over-excited and hopping around because she didn't know what to do.

At that moment, the smoke alarm went off. The shrill sound made talking an impossibility. Edison ran toward the stove, grabbed a hot pad off the top of the fridge, put it on and tried to open the oven door. She could only open the door a couple of inches. Thick black smoke billowed out. Edison coughed and waved the hot pad in front of her face.

Amy pulled her shirt down, ran to the stove and turned it off.

Jordan hopped to the sink and turned the cold water on full blast. She pulled the spray nozzle out and aimed it across the room at the burning stove. The water arced high in the air and came down directly on top of Edison’s head.

Edison yelped, dropped the oven mitt and dove away from the stream of water, still hacking from the smoke.

Jordan threw down the nozzle and kneeled before one of the cabinets. She opened one of the doors and looked inside. She was yelling, but Amy couldn't hear what she was saying over the alarm. Jordan threw open another cabinet door and tossed boxes and cans out into the middle of the room. She opened the third cabinet, rummaged around inside and pulled out a fire extinguisher.

Jordan ran toward the stove, aimed the fire extinguisher nozzle in front of her. She slipped on the hot pad Edison had dropped on the floor. Her feet went up in the air and her butt slammed down on the linoleum. The spray of the fire extinguisher shot straight up like a fountain.

Amy ran to help Jordan. She slipped on the white gunk shooting out of the fire extinguisher and crashed to the floor next to Jordan. Edison rolled to her feet, crossed to Jordan and yanked the fire extinguisher out of her hands. She aimed the nozzle at the stove.

Unfortunately, the smoke was so thick she couldn't see where the stove was so she played it safe and sprayed the entire kitchen. The flames disappeared, but black smoke still oozed out of every possible crack of the oven.

Amy got to her feet slowly, slipping and sliding. She turned around in time to see Jordan with a chair raised above her head. She was aiming it at the smoke alarm that was hanging on the wall over the doorway. She whacked at the smoke alarm with the chair’s legs. She succeeded in putting three holes in the wall without touching the smoke alarm once.

Amy grabbed the chair out of Jordan's hands. She put the chair on the floor, climbed on the seat and yanked the alarm off the wall. Jordan grabbed the alarm out of her hands and tossed it into the sink.

Edison aimed the sprayer at it and doused it with water. The alarm squealed, squeaked, bleated, belched, then died.

Silence.

Amy coughed.

Jordan threw open the window above the sink.

Edison turned off the water and marched out of the kitchen without saying a word.

“I don’t think she’s happy,” Jordan said.

Amy and Jordan faced each other. They were both smeared with white goop and smelled like burnt pizza.

“Well,” Amy said, “That was fun.”

“What now?”

“Maybe we should go to my house.”

“Do you have any hot dogs?”

Amy smiled. “Better. I have a bathtub.”