by Lori L. Otto
“I hope you have a good evening, Marcus,” I tell him, guiding Samantha toward the elevator.
“You, too. Good night, Nate.”
“Bye,” Sam says, waving to him as we get inside the lift. I stand behind her and rub her shoulders, feeling her tight muscles.
“Why are you so tense, love?”
“I don’t know,” she says as she lowers her head, letting me massage her until the elevator reaches my floor.
“Well, that’s the first thing we’re going to take care of then,” I tell her. “I’ve got to find my girlfriend… because this quiet, demure, tense woman… I don’t know her.”
She walks inside my loft, slowly looking around. She sets her purse down and turns around quickly to address me. “I’m sorry I’m not myself tonight. I just don’t want to do anything to mess things up and I know you have high expectations and I’m just scared that I won’t live up to them and you won’t like me–”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa… ” I stop her string of explanations. “The Sam I know is not insecure about herself. At all. The Sam I know realizes she’s the only woman I want to be with. I have no expectations for tonight, baby. None. I hope… ” I say honestly. “But I expect nothing.”
“Really?”
“Really,” I assure her. “And for you to think I won’t like you… we’ve been dating for weeks now. I wouldn’t still be seeing you if I didn’t like you.”
“That’s not what I mean. I’m afraid you won’t like me after you’ve… um… been with me.”
I’m shocked at her statement and realize I need to assuage some serious anxieties. “Sam, baby.” I guide her to my couch and sit next to her. “We need to talk.” I stand up and pour some wine for both of us, then take it back over to her. “You must have a pretty low opinion of me.”
“No, not at all,” she says quickly after taking a quick sip of her drink.
“I have genuine feelings for you, Sam. And those feelings don’t hinge on how good you are in bed. They’re here, now. They won’t disappear after we sleep together. You get that, right?”
“I guess.” Her shoulders slump, her posture defeated.
“Is that how the men in your past have treated you?” I ask.
She looks up at me through her lashes and shrugs her shoulders.
“I’m not like that. If this was just about sex, I wouldn’t have waited this long, okay? You’re different. You intrigue me. I’ve never met anyone like you. I just want to know you better. Know you, fully.”
She smiles and blushes before swallowing audibly. “I want to know you… fully… too.”
“Okay,” I whisper before kissing her cheek. “Good.”
“Okay.”
“Do you feel better?”
“Yeah.”
I test her shoulders again, still feeling tension. “Why don’t you turn around, and I’ll rub your shoulders a bit. You need to loosen up. Okay?”
“Okay,” she agrees, shifting on the couch to turn her back to me. I start with both hands kneading her left shoulder, gradually making my way across to her right side. She finally begins to relax. I move her hair over her right shoulder and kiss her left one slowly. I can feel her sigh, my hands running lightly down her arms. My kisses move slowly across her back.
“That’s better,” I tell her, my lips lingering against her soft skin. I begin to focus on her neck. When my hands reach hers, she wraps her fingers around them tightly.
“Nate, I’m a virgin,” she says hurriedly causing all of my movements to cease.
“What?” I ask her, positive that I didn’t hear her correctly.
She lets go of my hands and I sit up straight, waiting for her to turn around. She finally does, then looks me in the eyes and speaks. “I like your haircut.” She smiles easily and runs her fingers through my hair.
“Um, thank you,” I tell her. “Can we go back a second?”
She looks down at the space between us. “Yes, I said I’m a virgin.” She covers her face with her hands.
“Hey.” I pry her hands away. “Look at me… Samantha?”
“Now do you understand why I’m afraid you won’t like me?”
I put my hand under her chin and force her to look at me. “Are you kidding?”
“No, I really am a virgin,” she says. “Why would I make–”
“No, Sam, I believe you. But you think I won’t like you because you’re a virgin?”
“I have zero experience.”
“I’m okay with that,” I tell her, almost laughing. “Very okay with that.”
“Why?” she asks innocently.
I just shake my head. “Wait, how can a woman like you– a siren, honestly– how is it that you’ve stayed a virgin this long? That doesn’t happen.”
“Sure it does,” she says, perking up a little. “I just wanted it to be with the right person, that’s all.”
I raise my eyebrows at her. “And I’m that person?”
She takes a deep breath before answering. “I’m in love with you, Nate.”
I feel my heart begin to pound in my chest as I smile warily at her. I take her head in my hands and lean in to kiss her. “Okay then,” I breathe into her ear, taking her lobe into my mouth.
“Nate–”
“I love you, too, Sam,” I interrupt her, knowing the question was coming. She tilts her head back, allowing my tongue to trace down her throat and across her collarbone. I glance up to see her eyes closed, a beautiful smile spreading across her lips. I angle her head back down, smiling back at her. She opens her eyes, and at once all the confidence she’d been hiding from me returns to them. She leans into me, taking my tie in her hands and working out the knot as she kisses me, hard and fast. I remove my jacket quickly as she pulls the tie from my neck. “Let me take you to bed,” I suggest, out of breath. “I want you to be comfortable.”
“Okay.” I take her hand and walk swiftly across the room, unable to hide my excitement to be with her.
“You’re sure about this?” I ask her as she unbuttons my shirt.
“I’ve never been more sure about someone,” she says, kneeling on the bed after kicking off her shoes. I barely have my dress shirt off before she pulls me onto the bed with her. I kneel in front of her, letting her hands explore the skin beneath my t-shirt. I pull it over my head quickly, tossing it on the floor. She looks at my chest and slows down, kissing my bare skin reverently. I feel her fingers fidgeting with the button on my pants. She’s taking her time, and I almost can’t restrain myself from just undressing the rest of the way for her. Instead, I move my hands slowly to the back of her dress and find the zipper. We unzip one another together, our gazes never faltering. I kiss her once more before lifting the dress over her head. She holds her arms up gracefully, then lowers them slowly, her eyes watching me as I study her body.
She smoothes her hair down, then unhooks her bra from the back and sets it on the bed next to us. This is the confident Sam I know. “You are driving me crazy,” I tell her. She takes my hands in hers and places them on her ample breasts. I cup them in my hands, massaging gently at first. I’ve felt them over her clothes before, but this is the first time I’ve felt them with nothing separating us. They are amazing– and amazing real– I had wondered… had hoped… As she arches her back, I kiss them, giving equal attention to both.
I feel her touching me beneath my boxer shorts, surprising me. She straightens up when I take her hands into mine and look her in the eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she says, her expression truly remorseful.
“No, it’s okay,” I tell her. “It’s nice… but let’s focus on you first. Because once you start doing that, I won’t want to stop.” I smile at her, reassuring her. “And I want to do this at your pace, okay?” She nods. “Good.”
I run my hands down her arms again, noticing the orchid still in her hair. I take the clip out, releasing her hair and taking the flower into my hand, holding it up to my nose and breathing it in. I toss it onto the night stand, t
hen comb through her hair with my fingers as I bring her lips to mine again. She leans back, eventually lying down on the bed and taking me with her.
“Tell me about your first time,” she requests as I feed her small chocolates in bed. I’m exhausted and can’t wait to sleep, but Samantha’s mind is obviously racing.
“It’s not a romantic story.”
“I feel pretty lucky that mine was,” she says, smiling brightly and running her fingers through my hair.
“I feel pretty lucky to have shared it with you.” Any apprehension I had felt by being her first lover was gone. After what just happened between us, I want to be attached to her. The sex was amazing, and I knew it would only get better. I was still in a euphoric, post-coitus state. I could revel in this feeling forever. It’s one of the best feelings in the world.
“So who was she?”
“Her name was Misty Gainor.”
“How old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
“Wow, you were young,” she comments, licking some chocolate from my finger. God, what a turn on. I pull her face to mine and kiss her. “How old was she?” she asks, her lips humming against mine.
“Fifteen, as well.” Propped up on my elbow, I allow my hand to travel up and down her torso. She eventually moves the chocolates back to the night stand and wraps her fingers in mine.
“Was it her first time, too?”
“No,” I laugh, remembering the reputation that Misty had, even before we slept together.
“Tell me about her.”
I think back, trying to remember how I saw her through the eyes of that fifteen-year-old boy who was completely infatuated with her… because as the sixteen-year-old “man” I became, the breakup stripped away any kind feelings toward her.
“Where do I start? I went to an all-boys school until high school, so I was pretty curious about the fairer sex by the time I entered the ninth grade. I had a few girlfriends, but they were all ‘good girls’ and I never got past first base with any of them. I was pretty straight-laced, too, back then. I wanted to do the right thing, make my mom proud. I never wanted to cause her any trouble or any pain… that is, until she started dating a man my sophomore year.
“That was not easy for me to accept. My mom was supposed to love my dad forever, even though he had died years before. I started distancing myself from her and began rebelling against her rules.
“When I first saw Misty, I was sneaking a cigarette in between periods, and she was making out with one of the jocks at my school under the bleachers. She was wearing this impossibly short pleated skirt and combat boots. Her button-down shirt was partially opened, revealing part of her bra. That image of her implanted itself in my head, and I couldn’t escape it. She had dark brown hair– long– and the guy she was with pulled on her hair roughly as she moved her body over his.
“I watched them, curious.”
“Creepy,” Sam comments. Thinking back, I have to agree that it kind of was, and I laugh at her comment.
“Anyway, it looked like he was hurting her… but it certainly didn’t sound like it. I remember thinking at the time that I had to get this girl to go out with me, and I was certain that I could treat her better.”
“Awww,” she coos. “You were always this sweet?”
I roll my eyes. “I guess I was, but girls aren’t always receptive to sweet.”
“Did she break your heart?”
“Eventually, she did.”
“So how did you convince her to break up with her boyfriend?”
“Well, she didn’t stay with one guy for very long. That wasn’t something I took notice of until after the fact. It was pretty easy to get her attention, though. She loved grunge music, so I just immersed myself in that culture. I got tickets to see Pearl Jam, and she heard about it through the grapevine. She told me she loved them, and I invited her to the show.”
“So it happened that night?”
“What kind of a man do you think I am?” I tease her. “No, we didn’t have sex that night. But I did learn really quickly that she liked to have her hair pulled. So much for treating her better than the last guy.”
“That was kind of a turn on,” Samantha admits. I raise my eyebrows, and she nods, although the admission doesn’t surprise me. Most women I’d been with enjoyed that, but I decide to keep that comment to myself. I had a feeling if we got into the “how many women have you been with” conversation, it would be over between us with an honest answer.
“I’m glad you liked it.”
“So back to Misty… ”
“Right, Misty… ” I continue. “After the concert, we started by meeting up after school at a nearby park. We got to know each other a little, and I was really taken with her. I can see now it was always lust, but at the time, I thought I was in love with her… and I thought she loved me back.
“Eventually we started skipping classes together and making out wherever we could find a little privacy, normally in the back corner of the library. When it started getting really intense, though, we had to find another place.”
I sigh heavily and laugh at the memory.
“What?” Sam asks. “Where did you go?”
I laugh again, embarrassed. “Well… during the school day, the buses were left unattended at the far end of the parking lot… ”
“Nuh-uh!” she exclaims.
“Yep. I lost my virginity on a school bus… in the very last seat.”
Sam bursts out in laughter.
“Not the most comfortable place to have sex, I might add.”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
“But, still, we did it often there. We figured out positions that were more comfortable than others.”
“So what happened to Misty?”
“Well… I guess she just got bored with me. After about three months, she dumped me… it completely broke my heart. That’s when I swore off love entirely… that’s about the time that Emi moved to my school.”
“You’ve known her that long?”
“Yep. She transferred to my high school when her mom left her dad. She had sworn off love, too, so we became inseparable, as friends. We wallowed in each other’s misery… and with everything she was going through, she helped me see how unfair I was being to my mother. I straightened up.”
“So she was a good influence.”
“Still is. But our friendship was built on the complete absence of love. It was just one of the many things we felt we had in common.”
“So did it eventually turn into love?”
“With Emi?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“No,” I tell her, though I’m afraid my wistful smile might give me away. “Emi and I have always just been friends. We vowed to not date anyone through high school. We stuck to it until she graduated. I was a year behind her, and after she was gone, I did see a few girls.”
“Did she mind?”
“No, not at all. By that time, she had begun to forgive her parents and had decided that maybe she would find someone to love some day. We just stayed friends through each other’s relationships.”
“She sounds like a good friend.”
“She certainly is,” I smile. Sam may be young, may seem young, but she sure is acting more maturely about Emi than Laney ever did.
“So, do you regret Misty Gainor?”
“You mean do I regret losing my virginity to Misty Gainor?”
“Yeah.”
“Not at all. She was experienced… she taught me things… things I’ll never forget. She’s definitely someone I’ll never forget.”
Samantha lies in bed quiet for a few minutes, playing with the hair on my chest.
“I’m glad my first time was with you,” she says, and I have difficulty breathing for a split second, realizing the inextricable bond that was forged tonight. I’ll always be someone special to her. She’s pretty special to me, too.
“I’m glad I could share this with you,” I tell her with a kiss. “Wanna go for
a second time?”
She looks at me as her smile grows. She nods slowly, and wraps her arms around me, welcoming me.
Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
“Thanks for meeting me,” Emi’s brother, Chris, says as we set up on the racquetball court early one Saturday morning. “I can’t sit at home and wait any longer.”
“What are you waiting for?”
“I’ve been seeing this woman for a few weeks. I really like her. She, uh, finally stayed over the other night… ” I glance at him, and his expression fills in the blanks. “But I haven’t seen her since. She’s all I can think about.”
“Well, Em, here I thought I was spending the morning with your brother.”
“Fuck you,” he tosses the ball to me. “You don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand women?” I serve the ball– hard– and he swats it back at me. “I know women,” I remind him.
“I know. That’s why you’re here and not any of the decent guys I know.”
“Hey, I resent that,” I tell him, rolling my eyes. “You listen to your sister too much.”
“We have better things to talk about than your sex life,” he responds.
“I highly doubt that,” I joke with him. “There’s really nothing better than my sex life.”
“Oh, here we go… ” I laugh, continuing our game. “But speaking of which, you still seeing the young blonde?”
“Samantha,” I tell him, “and yes.”
“Emi says she hasn’t seen much of you lately. I’m guessing she’s the reason?”
“I will admit that Sam requires a lot of my attention, yes,” I answer honestly, “but I don’t know if you’ve met the schmo she started seeing… ”
“So you’re a fan, are you?”
“You can tell? What’s his name? Carter or Colin or Collie… something like that.”
“Colin. And yes, I’ve met him. Briefly. He was at her place last week when I dropped off some books she had left at my apartment.”
“First impression?”
“He’s big. And his shirt was too tight.”
“Yeah, right? He doesn’t seem like her type,” I hint.
