YOU SAY IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY

By Micki Bailey

So being 19 isn't all it's cracked up to be. Not so far, anyway. But wait. Just exactly what IS it cracked up to be in the first place? No real special significance at all. Sort of a weird "limbo" time in between the milestones of 18 (freedom, finally, from being a high school "kid" any longer) and 21 (legally allowed to drink alcohol now in all 50 states and Canada). So nothing much to celebrate, actually. Boo-freaking-hoo. I seriously thought there'd be a little more excitement to the deal than THIS

Taylor took another sweeping glance around the table where she sat. Only a few of her friends remained seated there with her. The others had wandered (or more likely stumbled) off in small groups to the restaurant's dance floor or maybe to the bar.

THEY all seemed to be enjoying her party, even if she was seeing the whole occasion in deepening shades of blue. She sipped a little more of the champagne they'd bought for her, vaguely noticing the frailty of the tall, thin flute, and tried to seem interested in what one of the dinner guests, who still sat at the round table, was saying.

"Yes, it's going great. I can't complain. I actually got a small raise after only six months. Every little bit helps, you know," she answered about her job.

Her job.

The job she'd opted to move to New York for just after graduation last year rather than beginning college right away. She'd felt stale and going-nowhere in Albuquerque, and there'd been nothing holding her there except for her family. So, when opportunity had knocked from The Big Apple, she'd opened the door and embraced it heartily.

Sure, her mother had been a little hesitant and wary of such a drastic move and the postponement of university enrollment and all that jazz especially since she had been accepted to several prestigious schools. But Taylor had just "felt" it was the right thing to do, and her "hunch" had, thus far, played out correctly. She had a few acquaintances in the New York area already, and they'd helped incredibly with the settling-in/getting-adjusted process. It was working out nicely.

And tonight — a drab, tepid Tuesday by all accounts except for being her 19th anniversary of birth into the world — the acquaintances, who were now good friends, had collectively thrown her a celebratory bash. One which Taylor was currently not getting the full potential of enjoyment from.

As more of the cool, sparkling liquid eased down her throat, she let her almond-shaped dark brown eyes scan the semi-noisy room again, not expecting to find much of anything to lift her out of the grips of melancholy. From where she sat on the shadowy side of the restaurant, she could see the entire place, minus the exposed kitchen.

But then, suddenly — dramatically and alarmingly — Lady Fate tapped Taylor on the shoulder to get her attention and offer a gift of her own. And Taylor discovered — in that tiny fraction of the continuum we know as time — just what it feels like to have your heart completely shut down and cease pumping altogether. Her roaming gaze had landed on the bar. Someone at the bar.

Is that…………Could it really be…………HIM? …………No freaking way…………Can't be…………My luck doesn't work that way…………Never…………But what if it IS him? …………What a kick-ass coincidence…………Just can't be…………I've GOT to be delirious

"Get off your sweet ass and go and see," the Fate mistress whispered and nudged her. "Maybe your luck's changing."

So Taylor did. She refilled her glass and excused herself from the table. And then she somehow forced her legs to take her over to the long, ornate bar. Her heart had resumed its beating after its little hiatus and now seemed to want to pound out of her chest.

Trying to slow down her quickened breathing so that it wouldn't be screamingly obvious in her voice, she stood behind him (unbeknownst to him) and waited patiently for him to finish his conversation with the bartender. And she watched. Gawked. She couldn't help herself.

Yes. It's him. And, damn, he's still so…………

Standing there, looking at him, she could have filled in a thousand adjectives for this guy. All of them positive. She hadn't thought of him much — not in a personal sense — since she'd left Albeqerque. But she could certainly remember a time, not very long ago, when she'd thought of nothing else.

Yes, she'd loved him dearly. Well, as dearly as you can love a mega popular high school basketball AND theater GOD that this particular man was. And she'd been more fortunate than most teenage girls with their fevered crushes for this guy because she'd lived on the on the same street and her parents and his parents were particularly close. And actually knew this particular member through a friend of a friend of a friend.

She'd had the unbelievable delight of crossing paths with him on several social occasions. And, she'd soon had to admit to herself, the more she got to know the "real person" behind the playmaker, the more she'd fallen head-over-heels in love with him. Totally. And she really couldn't deny that she was thrilled when Chad had asked Gabriella out and Gaby had said yes. Leaving this work of art all to her.

However, he never knew of her aching passion. She knew it'd be hopeless to tell him. He ran in different circles, and dated other girls much more worthy of his kindness and affection than Taylor considered herself to be. She never figured she'd measure up. She was a braniac. He was surely out of her league.

So she'd made the tough decision to stop wasting her time on loving him. It was useless, and she should grow up and move on, she sadly convinced herself.

And that determination had worked. Mostly. At least until she saw him from time to time — at Gaby and Chad's apartment for parties. The opening of her step-brother Zeke's restaurant. Everywhere. He was everywhere. And he was just so freaking…………breath-stealing…………that it was hard NOT to look.

Relocating to New York had helped distract her. For months, she'd been able to pretend she didn't crave him with her whole being, that she didn't know him personally, that he wasn't the most beautiful thing she'd ever put her eyes on. Yeah, it'd been relatively easy to simply listen to the group's songs on the radio like a regular fan and nothing more. She'd even avoided going to the free show they had done in town back in November.

And now, here he is. Right in front of me. Laughing at that bartender so casually. As if he's nobody. But he's…………dazzling and glowing. Like the best birthday present imaginable

"Troy? Is that really you?" Taylor finally spoke and hoped she'd be heard over the din of background noise.

He turned to face her. And turned on the whole world with his perfect smile and his emerald eyes.

Sparkling

"Angel? Look at you! How are you, sweetheart! Long time, no see!"

Enthusiastically, he pulled her into a tight hug, and she didn't really care if the champagne spilled over the flute's rim because he was so…………warm…………against her.

"I almost forgot how you used to call me Angel," she lied when they faced each other again. "Always the charmer, you."

Troy laughed good-naturedly and looked her over. "Taylor. Angel. They look alike……absolutely stunning…………man, you are looking good, girl. What's it been? A year or more? I heard you'd moved down here."

"Thanks. I like Manhattan. A lot going on here. Never expected to run into you, though. Don't you guys have a playoff to be practicing for?"

Taylor prayed silently that the heat she felt burning her cheeks wasn't visible. The scent of his cologne filled her head pleasantly.

"Ah, yes. We start tomorrow. I gotta jet back early in the morning…………An old friend of mine got married here over the weekend, and I'm just bumming around, hanging out."

He smiled again and made Taylor think of bright days when sunshine bounced off crates full of lemons and limes. She wanted to ask if he was here alone, but then decided she'd prefer not knowing.

"So what are YOU up to?" And he lifted his eyebrows at the glass she held. "The bubbly, I see. Celebrating something?"

"My birthday." She offered him a timid smile of her own in return.

His face lit up again. Dramatically. Of Course. "Your birthday? For real, Angel? Why didn't you say so?"

Taylor felt the heated blush again and laughed it off. Or tried. "I just did say so. It's not a big deal, Troy."

"Of course it is. How old are you now? Like seventeen?"

She snickered once more at his flattery-type of flirting. "I'm all of nineteen now. Hence the alcohol. I'm the same age as you. We did graduate at the same time remember. I think I was the one to beat you out for valedictorian."

" Ha Ha. You never were good with jokes. ANYWAY. Well, then. Say no more. This calls for a bottle of the good stuff, darling." Quickly, he turned and rapped his knuckles on the bar's smooth surface. "Yo, Steve, my man. You got a chilled bottle of Dom handy?"

"Um, that's not necessary, Troy. Really." She stepped closer. To be nearer.

"Nonsense!" His order in, he wheeled back around to her and brushed his hand down her arm. Like a feathery caress. "I like birthdays. I want you to have the best, and DP's the best…………But hold on. Am I being too forward? I didn't even ask if you have a date or other plans. I'm sorry."

He seemed genuinely concerned as he awaited her answer. And Taylor wanted to laugh at how suddenly and comfortably he'd appeared in her life again.

"No. No other plans, as sad as that sounds. My buddies threw me a party, but it's winding down now."

"Then might I have the pleasure of your company? We can get caught up while drinking some liquid stars. That's how I like to think of the bubbly. Liquid stars. All crisp and tingly going down…………Cool?"

"Okay," she agreed, with her heart thumping in her throat. What else would she say to THAT invitation?

Maybe he's not real. Maybe he's just a dream. Maybe I've had too much "bubbly" already

"Shut up and enjoy it, silly," Fate scolded her once more with a swift jab to her ribs.

So Taylor did. She enjoyed it immensely with every cell and pore of her body. Even if it meant suspending belief in what she thought was her reality. She decided that she preferred this. Whatever this was.

There was the private, small table he secured for the two of them where they sat and talked for a while about "old times in O-Town" while their Dom stayed cold in a standing silver bucket filled with ice.

There were the secretive winks and "thumbs up" signs her friends gave her as Troy expertly sashayed her around the tiny dance floor.

There were the long sighs and short panted breaths she emitted into his neck and collarbone as he held her close to him, pressing her body into his snugly and smoothing his hands over her shoulders and back.

There were the deep whispers he kept pouring into her ears and the side of her head that hummed and vibrated with words he was sharing with her alone, no one else in existence. Compliments such as, "You looked awesome tonight, Angel, baby. You've grown up into a fine-as-hell young woman." Or vague information that seemed to roll off his tongue as sleek as velvet like, "Over in Europe, they call it 'champers.' Isn't that just gorgeous?" Or pieces of lyrics from the tunes they danced to. And then, as his soft lips grazed the curve of her jaw line, the promise…………of more: "You gotta give me your number, sweetheart. New York's not that far from Albuquerque."

"Yeah right Troy what map do you own. Albuquerque is on the other end of the country. I'm not making that much." Taylor replied giggling. But soon stopped as Troy softly touched her neck.

There was the sharp intake of her breath and the buckling of her already-weakened knees — even though she should have seen this next part coming — when he purposely rubbed the hardened thickness in his crotch against the cushiony mound in hers and then asked quietly and politely from somewhere deep in his throat, "Could I please…………escort the birthday girl home?"

"Yes, Troy," she hissed in response and shuddered from the jittery sensation that brief pelvic contact had shot through her system. "Absolutely. But only if you…………stay."

There'd been the surreal drive back to her place in his rental car when she had to keep licking her lips to remind herself she wasn't hallucinating as his seductive cologne in her sinuses was only adding to the dampness in her panties.

Well, to be perfectly honest, it was all hitting Taylor as surreal. The whole dang scenario. Un-freaking-believable.

In the twinkle of a mahogany-brown eye her entire minuscule universe had flipped itself upside down. To this.

And she'd eventually stopped trying to figure out how she could so easily invite Troy Bolton — yes, THAT Troy Bolton — into her apartment and into her bedroom and be so accepting of the simmering fact that they both calmly assumed they were about to become far more intimate than they'd ever been, up 'til now.

Especially when she'd never, ever — in her short 19-year-old life — gone through these motions with another man.

"Troy," she whispered as she pulled back from his urgent kisses, his warm hands still sliding over her body, seemingly everywhere at once, and his breath still caressing lips.

"What is it, baby?" he asked, his tone raspy now and full of blatant desire.

"Do you have…………"

"A condom? Sure. Don't worry." And he leaned in toward her face again, seemingly hungry for more of the taste of her mouth.

"Troy?" She pulled away, only slightly, one more time.

"Yes, my angel?" And he was still amazingly patient, relaxingly gentle.

"Please be gentle. You're…………my first."

His eyelids fluttered upward and exposed more of the crystalline green. He paused and searched her features, but only for a few seconds.

"You've never?"

"Not completely…………Is that a horrible thing?"

The tiny smile that danced on his moistened lips was priceless. "No, baby. We'll make it a fantastic thing. You'll be fine. I promise. And trust me…………You'll love it."

So Taylor did. She trusted him. Put herself in his hands completely. Because his bottomless-ocean eyes and his deeply-intoned voice assured her that she could.

Willingly, she gave herself, her most prized possession, to him that night. In her own double bed.

As they lay together on her cool cotton sheets, clothes now crumpled in the floor, their bodies pressed tight from their chests down to their toes, Taylor giggled against his mouth and cheek when he broke a kiss to ask her softly, "So are you a figment of my imagination, or am I one of yours?" because it didn't sound quite so corny coming from him.

"I've been wondering that myself. All night."

"You feel so…………good," he rumbled to her, slowly gliding his right palm over and around one of her plump breasts, down along the curve of her waist and hip, and across the swell of her ass as he squeezed a handful of the firm flesh there.

The combined effect of the sultry voice and the seductive touching brought shivers to her whole body, and she gasped out, "So…………do…………you."

Because he did. He was smooth and sleek, muscled in all the right places, pliant in others. Warm and pulsating all over. The stuff dreams are made of. Taylor's dreams, anyway.

"Will you…………" And he paused for what she naturally figured was a shy effect. "Will you let me see you? Could you sit up and let me get a good look at you?"

As she raised up on her knees, she realized suddenly that he wasn't being shy at all but was instead trying his best to tread slowly and make her more comfortable with the situation. Her heart skipped a few beats then when she took the liberty of straddling his waist and felt his hands slide up her bare thighs.

"You really are beautiful, Taylor." It was the sound of distant thunder, so far away you were glad it was raining somewhere.

"You're just saying that."

"I'm not. Just look at you." And his eyes roamed over her body admiringly, which delayed the pumping of her heart even more.

"Your skin," he whispered lovingly as he swept his finger over the flesh just above her moist patch of public hair, "is like warm milk chocolate…………or dark melted caramel." He licked his lips in slow motion. "Yum."

"Troy, you're killing me," she told him.

And he was. Killing her softly with lust. She instinctively lowered her aching crotch down onto his erect organ, which lay flat and hard on his stomach, waiting.

He groaned and clamped sweaty palms onto her thighs as she ground against him. "You're gonna get a mess if you keep that up."

"I was hoping."

"There's time. Believe me I'm not giving you up that easy baby believe me….Now relax…………Now, turn around, baby. Lemme see the back."

So Taylor did. She dismounted as if this was a daily routine for her and then climbed back on again, this time giving Troy a full view of her posterior. He hummed/growled his approval as his palms ran over the taut skin that rippled excitedly under his touch.

"Bring it closer and bend over. I wanna taste."

So, again, she did. Backing up on her knees, she stopped when she felt him grab onto her hips and rub gently. As she leaned down like he'd asked, she was struck with the beauty of the position.

She was now up close and personal with his rigid member.

"Damn, sweetheart. You're ripe and juicy as hell," he said hoarsely as he gingerly slid his middle finger into the hot, wet folds of tender flesh in front of him.

The electric bolt of pleasure drove her completely to her elbows, and the moan she uttered coated the solid shaft of flesh at her mouth with her steamy breath. Under her, Troy shifted his weight and pulled her inflamed crotch closer to his face.

"If I hurt you at all, darling, just yell at me. 'Kay?" he told her, and she could hardly concentrate on his words because her tender area was spasming so wildly as his slick fingers probed up and down in her peaks and valleys.

"'Kay. You're…………not…………hurting…………me," she managed to get out.

"You like?"

"I love."

"Good. Just hold on then. I got your back."

If that was a lame attempt at a joke from him, she paid no mind because the next major league sensation — his swollen lips on her swollen inner flesh — made Taylor cry out with how damn good it felt. So relieving. What her poor, tingling crotch had been begging for.

He closed his mouth around her small opening and used his tongue to dart in and out of the moist crevices and gulches, brushing over particularly hot spots over and over until she was seeing stars behind her midnight-black pupils.

The throbbing erection jerked against her cheek in response to her own enjoyment, and she suddenly found herself wanting to taste it — to savor the reddening length and lick the pooling sticky white stuff that dribbled out the tip.

Lapping at it with her tongue, however, didn't quite satisfy her craving. This thing, beautifully formed heated male flesh, demanded more. So she wrapped her lips around the thick dark head and swirled her tongue against the twitching until Troy was bucking his hips upward and groaning into her wetness.

Encouraged that he liked it, she decided to take more of him into her mouth's recesses and lowered her head until the purplish tip pressed against the pack of her throat. It was easy, then, to create a steady, bobbing up-and-down rhythm, using her saliva as lubricant and tightening her lips around the stiffened erection that seemed to grow against the walls of her mouth like magic.

Taylor reached down between his upper thighs, after a few more slick strokes with her firm tongue, and took his sack in her palm, drawing forth from him another moan that tickled her tender intimate flesh with the vibrations from his lips. The powerful urgency that had begun building deep in her as soon as he'd probed her with his fingers now began to fire to the surface and violently shook through her when his tongue played over her little trigger spot again and again.

She scraped his hardened organ with her teeth as she pulled her mouth off him long enough to gasp out her orgasm. Feverishly, she came against his mouth.

"Yesssss." The hiss seemed to go on forever, as did her strong release. When she finally began to come down from the long-awaited and blissful high and crawled off him, she found him smiling snidely and opening the condom he'd laid on the nightstand.

"Happy Birthday, Angel."

"Troy…………That was…………amazing."

"Glad you enjoyed it…………Wanna take it all the way?"

"Absolutely."

"Sure? It's your call, darling."

"I'm sure. I want to…………badly."

"Okay. Then dress me up." He handed her the opened foil package.

Rolling the thin sheaf of damp rubber down on him hadn't been "hard" at all because, well, he was so hard already. He held the base upright while she did the rest and then calmly told her — with a reassuring smile — to "go for a ride."

Lowering her small, soaked opening onto him had begun with a surprising burst of ripping pain. Brand new, tender and young, ground being dug into. A suffocatingly huge intrusion to snug places that had never known such.

But Taylor didn't lose her nerve or her "want to." She was a "big girl" now. AND she had Troy's comforting eyes on her face and his soothing hands on her thighs. Slowly, she eased down and took the full length of his heat up into her virginal passage.

That he closed his eyes and grunted/gasped at the exquisite surrounding tightness that engulfed him thrilled her, urged her on. She allowed her inner muscles to relax and adjust to the sweet invasion and then used her knees as leverage to slide up and then back down again, repeatedly. Slowly, Intensely. Possessively.

"This feels…………Stunning…………Troy."

"Yesss…………It does," he practically groaned out.

And she could tell, somehow, from the strained tone that his own swelling release was not too far off from its peak. So she sped up her bouncing motion and squeezed everything inside tightly around him until he was clenching the sheets at his sides and moaning and coming fiercely.

"Sweetheart," he whispered, with his eyes shut. She'd come to an easy stop, and he'd closed his eyes with his labored panting. "That was out of this world."

"Like this whole evening, if you ask me," she answered with a smile he didn't see.

With him still lodged up inside her, she bent down into his arms as they pulled her to him. His chest was covered with warm perspiration which squished between their pressing flesh.

"And your big b-day? It was satisfactory?"

Taylor kissed his neck and then replied softly, "It was the best one yet. I got all and more I could have ever dreamed of…………Thank you, Troy."

"My pleasure, Angel."