The First Time

This Virtual Blog Tour is winding down to the final weeks.   I hope you are enjoying my guests, they are an awesome bunch of people!  It’s been a great opportunity to get to know these writers, and learn from them.  My guest today is Nikki Noffsinger.  Last week she hosted me on her blog, so this week I get to return the favor.  I love it when I find like-minded authors, and I think my romance reading fans will appreciate Nikki as well.  So without any further delays, heeeeeeeere’s Nikki!

The First Time


Nikki Noffsinger

            I remember like it was yesterday and several bra cups smaller, my first time. I had waited for this moment it seemed all my life-well my life according to Molly Ringwald movies.  Anyone remember those movies?  How many of us thought our high school experience would be like one of those movies like Fast Times of Ridgemont High, The Breakfast Club, or Pretty in Pink?  We just all set ourselves up for disappointment, didn’t we?  I’m starting to get off topic here.  I can go on and on about the eighties forever if you let me. I guess for the most part, it’s due to the fact it was my childhood thus some of the happiest years of my life. The early nineties weren’t all that great.

Being a girl, it should be no brainer that with all the horror movies I loved to watch that there would be a few “love stories”.  Again, it is a perfectly female thing to do. I had gone over and over in my mind how I expected my first time to be. The stars would align; the cosmos would be in a total state of Eros.  I had dreamt of that crucial moment when sparks would fly and I would soar through the heavens on pure euphoria.

Funny how expectations often don’t go the way they should.

At sixteen, what did you expect dear reader? What were some of your crazy dreams? Did you accomplish any of those? What ones didn’t work out?  Okay you only have to highlight a few; never fear I remember being sixteen.  We all wanted to conquer the world in some way, didn’t we?

My first time though, was not met with flowered garlands or notes played on golden harps by chubby cherubs.  I do not think the cosmos was aligned nor was Jupiter in the seventh house or whatever. What I recall of it was disaster.  It was nothing short of horrific without all the Carrie White drama.  Wow, wouldn’t it have been cool to have been telekinetic in high school? I mean, not the killing people part of it but the possibilities are endless to a sixteen year old. Sorry, my mind is starting to wonder. So that should tell you right there how traumatic this event in my life truly was.

That afternoon, my sister had spent hours, literally hours curling and teasing my hair into perfection. It was winged, banged, and bulletproof.  My eyeliner was perfection with the exception my eyes were still burning like hot coals from my sister and best friend Cheryl trying to do both at the same time and using my eyeballs as testing sites. I never had to worry about full lips because I always had them but I was a reddish strawberry blonde at a time when blondes were considered, “cute”, “sexy”, and “popular”. Brunettes were a close second; probably thanks to starlets like Phoebe Cates and Kelly Le Brock. For some reason, only a few guys actually preferred us reds over those two. However, tonight was not about hair discrimination and the fact that I wasn’t the run of the mill model perfect looking girl; however I was a pretty nice looking size twelve.

My palms were sweaty and I couldn’t stop rehearsing a thousand and one scenarios in my mind. The radio was playing everything from Guns n Roses to Madonna. It was just what I needed; Madonna, the blonde ambition, on a night such as this; one of the more important nights of my sixteen years of life. This night was going to possibly affect the rest of my life!  I remember stepping out onto the asphalt and walking with trepidation. I was nervous. I had the mental image of the virgin in white stretched across a stone altar and then some hooded dude mumbling what sounded like gibberish right before ….well okay, you have to know I was and still am a huuuuge movie buff and I might have been watching too many horror flicks.

As my anticipation grew and there within my line of vision was what I had been waiting for and dreaming about for as long as I could remember. It was like being in the Olympics and finally seeing the finish line tape stretched across the track and knowing that you were right about to win and hear the crowd roar.  My finish line was a boy who I had spoken with over the phone and flirted with for weeks until he finally asked me out.  A lot of girls said he was quite the “babe” (term “babe” was used before it was cool to say “hawtie”). All I know is Boy X had hair clean down to his waist and looked like he came out of a MTV music video…well maybe not that good but he was close. Okay so maybe he wasn’t close but he was only a year older than me so he was in the neighborhood.  Anyhow, all I knew all my friends didn’t have a guy with hair like that and his face was unblemished by puberty and he liked me. Who wouldn’t want to have their first with a rarity such as an unblemished face at puberty and long blondish-brown hair?

We walked around the mall, talking and laughing. We held hands and even looked in a few stores. First was the music store so we could reaffirm we had the same taste in music and then Spencer Gifts, to kind of drop the hint that I was “ready for love”. Okay laugh now but who didn’t sneak a peek in the “naughty” section of a Spencer Gifts at the local mall? Yeah that’s what I thought.

As soon as I ditched my sister and best friend we went outside. I remember the weather was cool but not frigid. It was just coming out of spring. Summer would be starting soon and school would be out. I had gone from, Are you there God, It’s me, Margaret to Cheyenne Splendor. This was the moment I had dreamed about and waited for; well one of them anyhow.  He leaned in, closed his eyes, and our lips met. Our tongues danced and I waited.  I waited past the taste of stale Mountain Dew and the aroma of Stetson mixed with sweat.  Some things a girl can over look. However, I didn’t feel the earth move, hear explosions, or feel my body go limp and wanton. It hadn’t been a bad first real kiss, but it simply hadn’t been what I had expected.

We kissed often during our three-month affair – which to a teenage girl is some serious time. When we broke up, I cried. Oh how I would miss that hair and all those late night chats. Boy X hadn’t been a bad boyfriend until he dumped me for some other mall rat but for as pretty as he looked; his kisses had been underwhelming.  They weren’t like the fevered ones I had seen in movies or read in books. They hadn’t made my insides clench or had even stirred the butterflies. So when I wrote stories about kisses, I wrote what my mind had dreamt up. I mean all those hours of watching all those movies and the books on the subject hadn’t been for a lost cause here.

So tell me, what was your first kiss like? Was it anything like you imagined it would be? If you write any genre of romance do you draw on your own personal experiences or not?

I write love scenes both the way I see them in my head and from experience. I write how I want to be touched and what my character should be feeling.  I write more wanting to convey the connection not just the graphic act.  If someone is describing chocolate to the person who has never tasted it they would use their own feelings to create that taste.  I want to do that very same thing that all starts with a kiss.  All my favorite romance novels have all done that very same thing and for some of those books, I’ve been found fanning myself or heading to a cold shower or two.  In my opinion I think that it is why people are drawn to romance of any genre is because they want to feel and see what it is the author is describing.  For some, perhaps it’s a yearning to just want to feel for a moment the bliss of loving and being loved.  Who knows but it is fun to write and create. It is even more fun to watch someone who has never read anything in my genre and see the shock and blush that comes over their face  and then tell me how they really got the story not just the juicy stuff.

So that is one of my firsts. It wasn’t what I expected and it kind of let me down but here I am uncorrupted by the Dr. Phil assessment writing about thousands of kisses I’ve never had but have seen dozens of times in my mind along with lots of other things.  So tell me, who was your Boy X?  Did it live up to your expectations?  How has it influenced your writing or the books you select?

About the Author

            Nicole Noffsinger or Nikki as she is known is a 37-year-old mother of two children and has always loved writing and creating stories from a young age. She lives with her family in a mid-sized Indiana town. Aside from writing she has an eclectic taste in both music and art, loves to travel, and has a great love of all things that go “bump” in the night.


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