Don sat at April's kitchen table and fiddled with his wine glass. April had asked him over to her place to look at her expansion plans and he'd accepted the wine out of politeness. Beer tasted nasty to him and wine, in his opinion, wasn't much better.
Plus there was the fact than as a mutated turtle, he couldn't afford to get even the slightest bit tipsy. There were just too many people out there who would love to pull his shell apart.
It became obvious pretty soon into their discussion that there was more on April's mind than her architectural designs. Don sighed, resigned to the fact that he was her best friend and confidant and that whatever she wanted to talk about probably had to do with their other best friend Casey Jones.
``Can I talk to you about something, Don?'' she asked, her eyes locked on the dark liquid in her glass.
``Of course, April,'' he said, working to keep his voice neutral.
She didn't say anything for a minute, and then picked up her glass and drained it. Reaching for the bottle sitting across from them, she refilled her glass and tipped the bottle towards Don.
His hand covered his glass and he gave a little shake of his head.
April was normally very self-possessed and confident and Don realized that whatever was bothering her must be serious.
``You know that Casey and I . . .that we've been dating, right?'' she asked, knowing full well he and his brother's did know that. They had in fact encouraged the couple, having seen the mutual attraction between the two the very first time they met.
And the sparks. Both April and Casey were, well, hardheaded seemed to be a good word.
Don leaned forward a little. ``Are you guys having problems?'' he ventured to guess.
``Oh, no, no. Nothing like that, it's. . .it's pretty great, really,'' she told him and lifted her glass for another swallow.
A shallow puddle of red spread over her cheeks.
``Then what is it?'' Don asked gently. He watched her fingers play over the rim of her wine glass and out of the corner of his eye saw her flash him a grateful glance.
``He hasn't kissed me yet,'' she blurted out and took another hasty swallow of wine.
Don met her eye that time, then looked back at his glass as her cheeks colored further.
Clearing his throat slightly, Don said, ``Maybe he wants to go slow and not mess things up.''
``Do you think so?'' April asked hopefully. ``I mean, I can tell he's attracted to me.'' She giggled. ``Duh, that was dumb. Of course he is or he wouldn't keep coming around. But gosh Don, I think we're at that point where things should get a little more physical.''
``Are you waiting on him?'' Don asked.
``Kind of,'' April answered, and emptied the glass again. Shoving it around on the table in front of her, she said, ``I want our first kiss to be perfect.''
``I'm sorry, I don't understand,'' Don said and took another sip from his glass. The thimbleful that touched his tongue was as bitter as his last taste and he hoped she wasn't expecting him to finish it.
``Call me old fashioned, but I think the guy should initiate the first kiss. I don't know how to explain this Don, it's just. . .well a first kiss is special to a girl. It sets the tone for the whole relationship. It should tell me how much he cares about me, or wants to care about me. That kiss should make me float; oh hell, every one of them should.''
She tipped the bottle up again and poured the last of it into her glass.
``Crap. This is hard to put into words. How do I say it so it makes sense? I want the perfect kiss, Don. You know? The perfect kiss.''
Despite how he loathed the stuff, Don took a healthy swallow from his own glass of wine. His mind moved at her words; the clarity of them making exact sense as past visions flashed through his head.
Leaning back and opening for Leonardo, who was pure intensity and overwhelming desire;
Michelangelo, who always nipped first before exploring with that wide, versatile tongue;
Raph looming over him, his grip tight and eyes fierce, pushing Don's head back with the strength of his passion.
Don shivered and shifted in his seat as he hastily drained his glass. Shell, yeah, he knew the perfect kiss.
In fact, he knew three of them.