by Tara Bond
“Yeah . . . I guess you could say that.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
My initial thought was not really, but it was early in the meeting, and I guessed there was little else to do.
“I went out on Saturday night . . . with this guy I liked. We didn’t go out as such, he cooked for me.”
Dr. Milton nodded encouragingly. “And what happened?”
I frowned, shaking my head in exasperation. “I don’t know. Everything was going great. He invited me round to his place, and made this really nice meal.”
I paused, struggling to work out how I was going to tell her about what had happened next.
“That sounds like he went to a lot of trouble for you,” Dr. Milton said, filling the silence. “Like he wanted to make the night special.”
“I know! That’s what’s so annoying. Because when we were going to—” I paused meaningfully, raising my eyebrows in case she hadn’t got it.
“Have intercourse?” she filled in.
I cringed. What was it with medical professionals that they managed to make everything sound so icky? “Yeah, that.” I looked away, trying to formulate what I was going to say. “I just . . . well, I couldn’t go through with it.”
Dr. Milton sat back in her chair and studied me. I could almost see the cogs of her mind whirring.
“That’s interesting.”
“Yeah?” I gave a harsh laugh. “That’s one way to describe it, I suppose.” I pulled a hand through my hair. “I just don’t understand it. Why didn’t I just have sex with him? It’s not like I’m some shy virgin. I’ve had sex with enough guys before!”
“But this felt different, right?”
“Well, yes . . .”
“So tell me, what’s so different about this particular man?”
I frowned, trying to put into words what set Richard apart.
“Well, Rich—” I had to stop myself saying his name; I’d forgotten for a moment that Dr. Milton knew him. Although somehow I had a feeling she’d worked it out for herself. “This man . . . I guess you could say he’s a good guy. He’s someone I like—someone I could even have a relationship with.”
“Whereas the other men . . . ?” she prompted.
I shrugged. “They were nothing to me. Just a quick roll in the sack. I wasn’t looking for anything that lasted beyond one night.”
She was nodding encouragingly again, as though I was just in touching distance of the place she was trying to guide me to.
“So . . . what’s the conclusion? I find it easier to sleep with shitty guys than nice ones? I’m not sure what to make of that, apart from that I’m clearly one messed-up individual!”
Dr. Milton was usually good at controlling her emotions, but even I could see her disappointment when she heard my reply. There was obviously an answer she wanted from me, but she needed me to arrive at it myself.
“Seriously?” I kicked the designer coffee table in frustration. “Can’t you just do us both a favour and tell me what you want me to say?”
There was silence. Dr. Milton didn’t reply—and I hadn’t expected her to. I just needed to vent my frustration.
“Well, then,” she said finally, once my breathing had subsided, “why don’t we go back to what we were talking about the last time you were here?”
It seemed like such a waste of time. After what had happened the other night, clearly therapy wasn’t helping me at all. But I had nowhere else to go, so I might as well do what she asked.
“You want to reminisce, then fine.” I folded my arms. “What do you want to know?”
She quickly glanced over her notes, apparently unfazed by the passive-aggressive note in my voice. “Now, from everything you’ve told me, you were still a very sheltered person during that summer we’ve been talking about.”
“That’s right.”
“And yet, by your own admission, sex and alcohol play a large role in your life now.”
“Too true.”
“So I’m just wondering if you can pinpoint when that change occurred? Was it gradual, or was there a trigger point?”
I looked away, and began chewing at my fingernails. “I’m not sure, really.”
There was a silence, which was Dr. Milton’s standard response when she wasn’t getting the response she wanted from me. “All right, then,” she said eventually. “If that’s the case, perhaps we should discuss the event that in our culture represents the loss of innocence.” I looked up in surprise, wondering if I’d understood her correctly. “Yes, that’s right.” She sat back, so I could see she wasn’t budging on this. “I’d like you to tell me about the first time you had sex.”
I stared at her for a long moment. I’d had no problem talking in detail about my current sex life, but that was different. I opened my mouth to object, but no words came out.
Dr. Milton’s expression softened. “I understand this isn’t a comfortable subject for you. So why don’t we start with when exactly it happened? Was it after you started your art course?”
I knew what she was thinking. I’d told her how sheltered my school was—she assumed that I’d started at university, been around boys for the first time, and it had happened then.
“No,” my voice came out as a croak, and I coughed, clearing my throat. “No, it wasn’t then.” I took a deep breath. “It was during that summer we’ve been talking about. At a party. My sister’s twenty-first birthday party, to be exact.”
Seven years ago
I sat at a table in the corner of the marquee, pushing a piece of cake around my plate. It was my third slice, and I was only pretending to eat it to give myself something to do. On a raised bandstand at the front, a jazz band was playing, and the dance floor was filled with smiling couples. It seemed like everyone was dancing and having more fun than me.
That evening, when I’d been getting ready, I’d thought I looked good—attractive, even. Miraculously, that summer my acne had cleared up, and I’d grown my hair longer. The puppy fat had melted away, and I’d got contact lenses for the first time. These small changes had helped my confidence.
But then somewhere along the way tonight, everything had fallen apart. I felt like I always did—the ugly duckling in a family of beautiful swans. The dress that I thought had looked so good on me now seemed childish. In the shop, I’d fallen in love with the huge princess-style dress. But seeing my sister in a sophisticated, slinky gown, her long, straight hair tied back into a neat chignon, looking effortlessly chic, I felt like a lumbering idiot, like I’d made too much effort.
I was just wondering whether anyone would miss me if I retreated to my bedroom, when a deep, masculine voice said, “So, what are you doing all alone over here?” I looked up to see Toby smiling down at me, even more dashing than usual in black tie.
I sat up straighter, pushed the cake away, automatically returning his smile. “I’m great, thanks. Just taking a break from the fun.”
“Is that right?” The way his eyes twinkled suggested he didn’t believe me, but he was kind enough not to press the point. Instead, he held out his hand. “Would you like to dance?”
I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather do than be on the dance floor in Toby’s arms, but something made me hesitate. “It’s kind of you to ask, but you don’t have to be so nice to me.” I dropped my eyes to the floor. “I don’t want you to ask me out of pity.”
He crouched in front of me, his hand reaching under my chin and tilting it up so our eyes met. “How can it be pity when it’s an honour and a privilege?”
Hearing that my heart lifted. I stood up quickly, in case he changed his mind, and let him lead me onto the dance floor.
As his arms encircled my waist, I rested my head on his firm chest. I closed my eyes, and shut everyone else out. In that moment, it felt like we were the only people there.
After two songs, Toby whispered in my ear. “Are you bored? Why don’t we go out and get some air?”
In fact, I wasn’t bored at al
l. I’d have happily stayed there dancing with him all night. But I didn’t want to disappoint him. “What? Go outside?” I instinctively glanced to the gardens. “It’s going to be pretty cold out there.”
“Hmmm.” He seemed to consider it for a moment. “Well, we could go somewhere sheltered. What about that old barn?” He said it casually, as though the idea had just occurred to him.
“I suppose,” I said slowly.
“I’ll see you there, in say, ten minutes?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
“Oh,” he winked down at me, “and let’s keep it our little secret, okay?”
As the song ended, we parted. I went back to where I’d been sitting before, and he headed out of the marquee. I chewed at my nails, and obsessively checked my watch for the next ten minutes. Then, once the time was up, I slipped from the tent and into the garden.
There was a chill in the night air, but I didn’t care. I felt giddy with excitement as I hurried down to the abandoned barn, slipping on the wet grass in my race to get to Toby. Our secret meeting felt deliciously illicit. And although I had a nagging sense that I shouldn’t be doing this, I pushed it to the back of my mind.
I knew it was wrong, but part of me liked to fantasise about Toby being my boyfriend. I felt like we had a connection. He understood me in a way that no one else did. And I liked the fact that he seemed to want to spend time with me over Kate. Deep down I knew he was probably just doing so for her sake, taking pity on her awkward little sister. But for a little while at least I could pretend he wanted to be with me.
The lights from the marquee lit the path down the garden to the barn. I tentatively pushed open the wooden door, and peered into the darkness.
“Hello?” I couldn’t see anything at first, and I felt a pit of disappointment begin to form. Had Toby decided not to come? Had I taken too long, and he’d already left?
“Over here,” he called from towards the back.
Relief flooded through me, and I made my way towards his voice. I found him leaning against some stacks of hay, smoking. My first thought was that it was a fire hazard, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. Especially as he’d never looked cooler. He’d loosened his tie, and as the moonlight came out from behind a cloud, it highlighted the sharp, aristocratic bone structure of his fox-like face.
“You came,” he said.
I nodded shyly. He held out his cigarette, and after a split second of hesitation I took it from him. I’d never smoked before, but there seemed to be something sexy about sharing a cigarette. I put the end between my lips, my fingers trembling, as I inhaled deeply. The smoke filled my lungs and I started to cough and choke. Toby laughed, and took the cigarette back from me.
“Maybe another time.”
Once I managed to stop coughing, I watched as he continued to smoke. He didn’t seem in any hurry, which made me feel nervous. My parents would be furious if they realised we’d disappeared from the party. “So what are we doing out here?”
He shrugged, a little smile playing at his mouth. “Just talking. Taking some time away from the crowds. Why?” He frowned a little. “Don’t you like being here with me?”
“Of course I do!” I didn’t want him to think otherwise. Then I saw his face relax, and I realised he was only teasing. I suspected he knew that there was nowhere I’d rather be than here with him.
“Here.” He slipped his jacket from his shoulders. “Why don’t we sit?”
He laid his jacket out on the floor, and sat down, patting the space beside him. “Come on. Don’t be shy. I won’t bite.”
I hesitated for a moment. I could feel my heart thumping hard in my chest, the adrenaline pumping through me. Part of me knew I should leave, right now, this second. Something wasn’t right about me being out here alone with my sister’s boyfriend. But then I thought, What’s the harm? Nothing’s happened. Nothing has to happen. So, swallowing hard, I knelt down awkwardly, so I was facing him.
Toby looked at me through heavily lidded eyes, in a way no boy ever had before.
“God, you look beautiful tonight, Charlotte.”
Heat flooded my face. A frisson of excitement ran through me. They were the words I’d wanted to hear from him for so long, so when he reached out and caressed my cheek, I didn’t object. For a second we stared at each other in the dark. I could see the outline of his lips, and the whites of his eyes. I didn’t even dare breathe, in case it broke the moment. Then he leaned forwards and kissed me.
I’d fantasised about this all summer, and part of me had worried that after the build-up, it would inevitably be a let-down. But it was everything I’d hoped it would be. His lips were soft against mine—light and teasing. My arms tightened round his neck, as I felt little fires of desire igniting within me.
He moved closer to me, his kiss deepening. I had so little experience, but somehow that didn’t matter. Toby knew what he was doing, so there was none of the clumsiness or hesitation that might have made me stop and think.
One of his hands caressed the back of my neck, as the other slid under my dress. My heartbeat quickened, as I felt him touch me through my knickers. It was the first time anyone had touched me down there—in fact, it was the first time I’d ever been kissed. But instead of pulling away, I found myself pressing back against him, eager for more.
“You like that, do you?” he murmured.
His fingers slipped beneath the elastic of my underwear, and I gasped as he began to touch me again, shocked that anything could feel so good.
And then, quite suddenly, an image of my sister flashed into my mind, and guilt flooded through me.
“Toby, wait!” I managed to pull away a little. “We can’t do this. Not to Kate—”
The sound of her name made him pause for a moment. I’d been expecting him to be as horrified as me, to apologise and maybe reassure me that neither of us was in our right minds. But instead he just shrugged.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “She doesn’t need to find out.”
Before I could reply his mouth closed down on mine again, silencing me. He pushed me backwards, onto the ground. And then he was on top of me, kissing me with an urgency that left me breathless.
I closed my eyes, trying to get back to the place I’d been before. But the moment was gone.
“Toby,” I managed to say, as he began to kiss my neck. “I think we should stop now—”
But he didn’t seem to hear me. His hands were on my breasts, squeezing them roughly, as he rubbed his erection against my leg.
When he moved off me for a second, I felt a moment of relief. Then, in the darkness, I heard him unbuckle his belt and unzip his trousers, and he was back on top again, his body pinning me down.
Cold panic seized me. I began to wriggle beneath him, putting my hands against his chest to try to push him off.
“No, Toby. Please. Stop.”
One hand held my wrists, while the other forced up my skirt and ripped off my panties. I struggled beneath him, trying to buck him off, but he was so much bigger and stronger than me. He forced open my legs with his knee, the weight of his body pressing me into the cold, hard ground, crushing me, trapping me there.
“Toby, no . . .”
I felt a sharp pain as he thrust inside me. I bit down on my lip, to stop myself from crying out, as he drove into me again and again.
“Please, stop . . .”
My voice was weaker now. Tears spilled down my face. I could hardly breathe beneath him. I tried to think of something else, to transport myself to another place. But it was impossible.
He was moving faster now, more urgently. Then, finally, I felt him tense. With a deep grunt, he gave one last, savage thrust, before he collapsed on top of me.
We lay there like that for a long moment. I didn’t dare move. All I could hear was the sound of him panting in the silence. Finally his breathing seemed to slow, and he rolled off me.
“How was that?” Toby asked.
My dress was up around
my waist. I pulled it down and turned onto my side, so I was facing away from him, curling into the foetal position. I felt sore and bruised. I was shaking so hard, my teeth were chattering.
Toby laid a hand on my shoulder, and I couldn’t help flinching. “Is something wrong?”
I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak.
He sighed, clearly irritated with my lack of response. “Well.” I heard him getting up, beginning to pull his clothes on. “We should get back to the party.” His voice was all businesslike. “We don’t want anyone to start wondering where we’ve got to.”
Finally I moved. I forced myself to sit up. Toby had his back to me. He was shaking out his jacket, trying to smooth out the creases and the evidence of what had just happened.
“Why did you do that?” I said, my voice little more than a whisper.
“What?” He turned and looked at me, and whatever he saw made him roll his eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Don’t start crying. No one ever enjoys their first time.”
Is that what he thought this was? That I just hadn’t enjoyed having sex?
“I told you to stop.” My voice wobbled a little as I spoke, but at least I’d said the words.
“Oh, come on now, Charlotte.” He didn’t sound unkind, just maybe a little condescending. “Don’t start pretending you didn’t want this. You’ve spent all summer flirting with me.”
I stared up at him. The half-light from the party caught the sharp planes of his cheekbones, reminding me how handsome he was. I felt confused now. Was he right? Was this my fault? I was attracted to him. And when I’d come out here, I’d known it was wrong. Yet I’d come anyway.
Was I so jealous of my sister that I’d seduced her boyfriend? What kind of person was I?
A wave of shame washed over me.
Toby must have been able to seen the uncertainty on my face, because he sighed. “Look, get yourself cleaned up and come back out to the party. Have a few drinks and you’ll forget all about this.” He reached out and chucked me under the chin. “And it’ll be our little secret. Kate won’t ever have to know.”
