His Virgin Bride: A Fake Marriage Romance

by Kara Hart

  “Maybe he’ll be able to get you a job,” she shrugs. “Maybe his dick is exactly what you need.”

  “A compromise of favors?” I have to laugh at that. A night with me, in exchange for a high-paying career. No, I’m not about to prostitute myself out for the guy. That’s not why I called him last night. I called him because I’m growing up and he’s, well, pretty hot. Plus, he seems stable enough. It’s not that weird that he wants a little fun, is it?

  “Exactly. You scratch his back and he scratches yours,” she says.

  “I’m sure all he wants is a little scratching,” I quip back.

  “Heavy petting,” she says, pouting her lips and moving toward me. I fall back as she pounces on me, laughing. “Stroking, sucking, pounding, and a little scratching…”

  “Gross!” I exclaim, pushing her off of me.

  “You’re a prude,” she groans.

  I lift my body from the beanbag chair and walk over to her window. The weather is starting to get really nice. I look out and watch as the wind brushes past the trees. The faint smell of citrus hangs in the air. Life is good, generally, when it’s uncomplicated by the heart and body.

  “Anyway,” she continues, “I’ve got a date tonight.”

  “With who?” I turn around and place my hands against my hips, though I’m not surprised. This is most likely her 60th date this semester.

  “Some idiot. Jarod from Women’s Studies,” she says.

  “Of course it’s someone from Women’s Studies. Of course. Men are so predictable,” I say.

  “Of course they are! That’s what makes them so fun,” she smiles. “Anyway, he’s taking me to a pretty nice restaurant, so I sort of have to go. I’m not about to turn down a hundred-dollar lobster dinner just because I might have to blow him after.”

  “You’re too much,” I tell her.

  I grab my phone and check the time. Only thirty minutes until my next class. “I should probably get going if I want to make it on time,” I say. “Have fun with the lobster and dick sucking.”

  “You always leave me at the worst times. Just skip the damn class today. Live a little with me. Let’s get high and watch scary movies,” she begs.

  “I have to go! I’ll get docked on the final if I don’t,” I say.

  “Fine,” she pouts. “Well, at least keep me updated on the hot doctor man. I need to know everything.”

  “I’ll let you know if we ever talk again. Don’t worry,” I reassure her. I walk to the door and say my goodbyes. She waves solemnly.

  I shouldn’t talk to James again. He’s almost twice my age, I think. But I can’t help but acknowledge the undeniable truth that I truly can’t stop thinking about the way my heart pounds when I think of all that could happen. It’s all so wrong, which is exactly why it’s so fucking right.

  James

  “How is she?” Jenna asks me. Mom hasn’t been able to communicate for a week now. There’s not much we can do at this point, except wait it out. Today isn’t a good day, but she’s made it her prerogative to come in at least once a day.

  I take a deep breath and give her the same line I always give. “She’s hanging in there. Time will tell.”

  “Maybe it’ll be possible to move her into a better room, if she starts to get better,” she says. That slight tinge of optimism always gets me. There is no getting better, Jenna. This is just how life goes, sometimes.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I mutter. “I love you sis. It’s good that you come in so much. I think she can sense it.”

  She smiles warmly and closes her eyes. No tears, just understanding. She knows what’s coming, even if she avoids it. “She’s our mom, you know?”

  “I know,” I whisper.

  She kisses my cheek and quickly hugs me. “Time to go,” she says. I nod. “See you tomorrow.”

  The door hangs open as she slips through. I’m left to the silence of the inner corridors of the hospital. I can’t sit still and work on my research essays, however. Instead, I walk out into the hall and move in the opposite direction.

  As I get closer to my mom’s room, my chest begins to tighten. My blood turns cold. Fear. It creeps inside my body and begs to stay. I stop myself, putting a solid hand on the wall. I have to close my eyes. Fuck. A panic attack has taken me into its arms, promising to release me right when I feel the collapse.

  A nurse walks by me and stops. “James, are you okay?” she asks.

  “I’m… fine,” I manage to say.

  “Doctor, you don’t look—”

  “I’m fine,” I tell her once more.

  She understands the cue. She gives her best smile and says, “Very well then.” She walks away.

  I regain my sense of self and continue walking toward my mom’s room. This is the hallway of death. That’s not its official name. It’s the name I gave it when I first started working here. When you’re sent here, you’re going to die. There are no miracles in this hallway. There’s just the reality that all things must pass.

  At least my mother has family. At least she has people to rely on. Some of the people that are delivered here don’t have anyone. All they can do is sit in that solitary, white room and think about the choices they made. They sit and stare at the wall, or television screen, and every so often they make a strained noise.

  Will that be me? If I stay a bachelor forever, will I go out without any witnesses?

  I knock on the door three times, even though it’s pointless to. Still, there’s a part of me that knows she is present. Even if her eyes are closed and the morphine is flowing, I know she can hear me. I’m a part of her. I’m her son, dammit.

  “Hey Mom.” I smile and enter the room. It’s cold inside. Too damn cold. I told the nurses the other day to keep it at seventy-five degrees. Hastily, I turn the air down and grab a chair. “Sorry it’s so dang cold in here. It’s been a busy week, but I’ll try to come in more often to check up on you.”

  Silence. After every second, I wait for her response, but there is nothing. I like to imagine that she’s answering in her head. I take her hand in mine and kiss the top of her skin. Her eyes move, even though they’re closed. That’s how I know that she’s still with us, roaming the halls of memory.

  Her mouth twitches and for a second, I think she’s about to say something. She doesn’t. “You want some music in here, Mom?” I ask her. I grab the MP3 player and scroll to her favorite song. Bob Dylan, “Blowing in the Wind.”

  When we were much younger, we used to play outside, in the backyard. We’d jump in the leaves, or climb the trees, and mom would turn on that record. It would drive us fucking crazy. I never understood the man’s voice, yet I grew to love it. It became a part of who my mom was.

  For the next hour or so, I just sit in the room with her. I continue the hope that it brings some comfort to her. After all, we’re losing someone, but she’s losing everything. She’s the one who has to go through all of this madness. We just have to hold on and endure some mild pain.

  So I hold on and hope for the best, though I expect the worst. This year hasn’t been kind to us. Nor has the year before. No, there isn’t any light at the end of the tunnel for me. Not yet, at least. All I can do is stay present.

  Olivia

  There’s a certain kind of energy that runs through me today. It’s light and elevating, pushing me to act on impulses I’ve never even dreamed of before. I didn’t text or call him yesterday. I felt like I should give it a rest. Today, however, is different. Today, I’m feeling extra daring.

  I do something stupid. After my class, I drive over to the hospital. I sit in the parking lot and I just look at the doors. I run my fingers along the edges of my skirt and bite my lip. I love the excitement that comes out of fear. The thing is, doing something wrong can feel so damn good, so why do anything right? That’s Josie’s philosophy and I’ve somehow adopted it into my life. She’d be laughing her cute butt off if she knew what I was doing right now.

  My fingers move down, trailing across the soft, cre
amy skin of my thighs, landing on my freshly washed, cotton panties. They feel dry across my fingers, until I press a little. It becomes apparent that I’m wet and ready for him. Only, this is just a fantasy. I’ll be leaving in a second. I can’t just barge into his office.

  But when I see him, I don’t know what to do. He walks right past my car and I mean right past it. His coat grazes my tinted windows, but he doesn’t notice a thing. His face bears the hardened seriousness of a doctor on a mission. Maybe he’s going to perform surgery on a patient, or maybe this is just how he looks when he’s at work.

  He must have a lot of stress he needs to release. I bet he doesn’t get one ounce of rest. The poor guy. He needs a woman, as all men do during times of great need. What if I was to go inside his office right now? What would he do? Would he simply ask me to shut the door and turn the lock? Or would he tell me to get out? Both of these options start to excite me and I’m not sure why.

  I pick up my phone, put my car in reverse, and call him as I pull out of the hospital parking lot. He answers within two rings. He says, “You again? I wasn’t sure you’d call me back.”

  “Well, I did, so you should be feeling very lucky right now,” I say.

  “You shouldn’t be talking on the phone while driving,” he says.

  “Who says I’m driving?” I ask him. Shit. Maybe he’s on to me.

  “I can hear sound of your tires hitting the pavement,” he says.

  “Well, I made a small pit stop after class. You’ll never guess where I am,” I say, turning the corner.

  “Outside my office?” he asks, the hopeful man.

  “I was in the parking lot. You walked right past my car,” I laugh.

  “So you’re stalking me now, huh? You’re lucky I’m into that sort of thing,” he says.

  “You’re into crazy women, aren’t you?” I ask back.

  His voice turns earnest and sincere. “I’m not sure. It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone. But you’re a bit different than most women. You interest me,” he says.

  “Like a pet or something?” I ask.

  “You can be my pet if you want to be,” he says. “I can be a pretty good owner. Most of the time.”

  The game has begun. I have to pull the car over to the side of a random neighborhood, in order to keep myself from veering off the road. “I’ve never been owned before. It’s going to take a good deal of training to make me obedient.”

  “Why don’t you come inside? I’ve got an hour,” he says.

  I gulp down hard and take a deep breath. It’s all fun and games until it turns too real. I sit in silence and try to decide whether or not I should do this. I’ve never been with a man. At least, not like this. What he wants to do to me is completely new and slightly strange. Will he be the gentle, strong and caring man I’ve been dreaming of?

  “I don’t know if your office is the best place for us to talk,” I say.

  “Then come over tonight,” he says. “I’m off at 10.”

  “Maybe I will,” I smile. I’m wetter than ever. The leather seat underneath me has grown damp. The feeling of being wanted this bad is exhilarating. The guys my age sometimes exude this type of behavior, but they’re all too young to value the importance of a woman. For some reason, it takes men a great deal of learning to understand just what we mean to them. James understands, or so I think he does.

  “I’ll leave my door unlocked,” he says.

  “Text me the address,” I blurt out.

  “Okay,” he says.

  “Maybe I’ll stop by, but don’t get your hopes up,” I add.

  “They never are,” he laughs.

  I hang up the phone without saying goodbye. My hands are shaking as I throw the thing into my purse. I have to keep breathing slowly in order to regulate myself. Tonight. Should I do it? Is it really worth it? I’ve prided myself on staying celibate for so long because I’ve never wanted to taint how I viewed love, but I can’t help but know that lust is a very real feeling. It’s probably just as real and potent as love is. So what is real and what isn’t?

  I put my car back in drive and peel out of there. I head home in a hurry, stacking the pros and cons in my mind. I already know what Josie would say. She would tell me to pounce on him as fast as I can. I keep my thoughts to myself. There’s no need to ask for advice.

  When I’m home, I can barely think, let alone open my books to study for my upcoming tests. I sit on my bed and think about him coming into my room, seeing my pink, satin bed sheets, and smiling, knowing that he’s the one to rid me of my innocence.

  I somehow manage to fall asleep for hours. When I wake up, it’s nearly pitch-black outside. I check my phone. 10:15 PM. Two missed text messages shine on my screen. One is from Josie. “What’s going on tonight?” she asks. Oh, you know, I’m probably just going to go over to the doctor’s house. The second text is, of course, from James. It’s a simple display of his address.

  I text him back. “Just woke up from a nap,” I type. I hit send, although I don’t know where I’m going with this.

  It doesn’t take much longer for him to get back to me. “Interesting. I just got in my car. Have any ideas?” he asks.

  My body begins to feel like it’s floating, like I have very little control over my motor functions. My cheeks are warm and my back feels heavy. I look at myself in the mirror. I look good, I decide, even though I’m only wearing my underwear. The words come effortlessly from my fingers. “You could come over and keep me company,” I say. My decision: I’m not going to his house, but if he wants to come here, he can. That doesn’t mean we’ll have sex. It simply means we’ll just be… hanging out.

  “Send me the address and I’ll be on my way,” he types.

  I send him my address and instantly feel the fear and excitement take over my body. “See you soon,” I add, complete with a heart emoji. Is this what being an adult is like? Inviting strange experiences into your life? If so, I guess I’ve finally entered adulthood.

  I can’t focus. All I can do is pace around the room. So I invited him over. Is that such a crime? Well, it’s something completely new and impulsive. Though, when I hear my doorknob turn, wave after wave of euphoria enters into me. I hear his boots knock against my wood floors as he comes near my room. “Olivia?” he calls out.

  “You can come in,” I tell him.

  He pushes the door open and smugly leans against the frame of the door. “Sorry it took so long to get here,” he says. He holds up a bottle of wine and smiles. “But I got you a peace offering.”

  I crawl out of the covers, over to the edge of the bed. I sit down and look at the empty space next to me. “A peace offering, huh? How sweet,” I say. He sits down next to me and opens the bottle. “Sorry, all my glasses are kind of dirty.”

  “It’s cool. I remember college life,” he says. “We can just drink it out of the bottle.”

  “That must have been a lifetime ago,” I say.

  He laughs and shakes his head. “Shit. I’m that old to you?” he asks.

  “How old do you feel? That’s important, right?” I ask him.

  He sits with his legs slightly open and his left thigh comes into contact with mine. With a pounding chest and high temperature of emotions, I quickly look up at him with shock, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. He just looks at me steadily, eyes gazing at my lips. I know exactly what he wants, but he’s taking his sweet time.

  “I feel about 24. I’m 35 and I still feel like I’m in my twenties. Watch out, ‘cause it’s going to happen to you in a blink of an eye,” he says.

  “Ugh. Don’t say that. At least with men, your thirties are like your prime. For us, it’s almost as if our thirties are the end of the road,” I say.

  “You want to stay young and cute forever?” he laughs.

  I nod my head emphatically. “Yup. I like being cute,” I say.

  “Well, you do it pretty well,” he says. His eyes trail down to my skirt. My hand lays flat in the center, but I can tel
l he’s going to move it soon. There’s a silent pause that seems to last a lifetime. Then, he looks back into my eyes and says, “I’ve been wanting to fuck you ever since we met.”

  His hand moves solidly around my waist. I turn my body to face him, unsure as to how this will play out. This is my first time and it’s with this doctor. Do I tell him my secret?

  “Who said we’re going to fuck?” I ask him, all in a whisper.

  He doesn’t say a word and I find myself closing my eyes. His hand moves down to my thigh. Goose bumps prick up against my skin. “I did,” he finally says. His lips meet against mine. His tongue slides against mine. He smells so fucking good. His cologne is elegant and refined. He’s like an aged wine. Fuck.

  He pulls away, slightly biting my lip. I’m so turned on that I barely know what to do. I lean back against the mattress and eye him carefully. He crawls over me and unbuttons his shirt. “I’m a virgin,” I tell him. It’s quick and painless, like a Band-Aid.

  This can’t last forever… can it?

  “I’m a lucky man,” he whispers. His fingers moving across my skin, tickling me in the best of ways, send me reeling.

  “It will have to be our secret,” I tell him. “No one can know about this.”

  “Relax. Let me guide you,” he says, kissing my stomach. His tongue scoops against my hipbone and his lips connect. He continues to move lower as my breathing increases.

  “I’m all yours, doctor,” I find myself saying.

  “Good.” He smiles.

  He has no qualms with taking me. “Does it… does it turn you on that I’ve never slept with someone before?”

  His fingers trail across my panties. I shiver with excitement. He unzips his pants and towers above me. When he’s naked, I can’t help but gawk. His body is immaculate. I trace the muscles of his chest and abs, all the way down to his pelvic line. That perfect V stares back at me, and suddenly I’m face to face with perfection in a man. A few inches below, his cock stands upright. It’s… huge.