by Bebe Wilde
But the fact was, I was intimidated by him. I really didn’t want him to know anything about me, lest he try to use it against me later, lest he try to manipulate me into something. I had tried to stop whatever it was we might have before its inception, but had been unsuccessful. And so, here we were, after an awkward date, fighting like we’d been married for years. It was odd. We had this kinetic energy that seemed to get under our skins and drive us crazy.
Why I had agreed to go out with him in the first place was beyond me. Perhaps I was a glutton for punishment.
I couldn’t help but wonder what the sex would be like, though. The other day, after yet another disastrous date, he’d come back here to my apartment and found a riding crop I had left in the corner of the living room. He asked me why I had one of these. I’d told him I rode, of course, and kept my horse at a nearby stable. It was one of my biggest pleasures, riding. He went over and picked the crop up and said, “Ever thought of doing something else with this?” I immediately knew he meant—something sexual—and was flooded with embarrassment. I didn’t know what exactly he would do with the crop, but I knew enough that it would be just a little kinky. And I wasn’t ready for kinky. I didn’t know if I’d ever be ready for that. I’d had a somewhat dull sexual relationship with my ex, very vanilla and before him I’d only slept with a few other guys. So, I was a little inexperienced in that capacity.
This was probably the reason Gil and I had this strained thing going on between us. I knew he was the kind of guy to push my limits, to push me beyond my boundaries. He was so manly, such a take-charge kind of guy. But I wasn’t that kind of girl. I held back too much. That’s why all of this was scary to me. It was new. It was something I’d never experienced before.
He was staring at me again, his eyes not leaving me. I sighed and felt so self-conscious and just so… Well, pent up. But I wasn’t having this, whatever it was he wanted to give me. I was also unsure if we’d ever be able to make this work. “I’ve changed my mind,” I told him. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“What are you so afraid of?” he asked softly.
“Nothing,” I said. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Like hell you’re not.”
“Please,” I said, hating the sound of my voice, just this short of begging. “Please just get out.”
“Why?” he said. “Why don’t you want it?”
I looked away in embarrassment. I didn’t know. We’d been so close just a few minutes ago and I’d turned it off. Just like that. I mean, I did want it but there was this conflict I had. I had a hard time trusting, that’s all. And I had a hard time trusting Gil. I knew he’d be a good lover, better than any I’d had before him. However… Well, I just couldn’t seem to take that initial yet so crucial step to get to the sex.
“It’s not right,” I said. “I’m engaged.”
He chuckled. “Playing that card, are you? You know I know it’s not true.”
I blanched. He was right. Yeah, we were, we were broken up, my ex and I. I was a free woman, more or less. But free from what? And to do what? I didn’t know and didn’t care to analyze what that might mean. But then, I shivered with shame, thinking of all the personal details of my life that I’d lain out on the table for him to pore over, to dissect, to use against me later. I should have played my cards a little closer to my vest.
“Come on,” he said. “You know you want it.”
And that was the problem. I did want it and I wanted it from him. And here I was, presented with the perfect opportunity to get it and all I could do was run away. It was like having a crush on someone then getting the chance to talk to them, but you can’t. You stutter and stammer and make a damn fool out of yourself. Then they see you, they see the need in you and they run, don’t they? They always run away from it, from that need, lest they lose themselves in it. They were afraid of giving themselves up to the love, to your love. They’re afraid of losing themselves in your need. That’s why they always made it so hard. It was a battleground, love. And everyone wanted to fight.
That’s when I got it. I finally understood. Love hurts. It hurts a lot. Even if you’re no longer in love with the person who hurt you. It hurts and makes fools of people, just like the fool I’d become when my ex dumped me. Even if I didn’t care and even if I didn’t really want him anymore, I had been hurt by it. Rejection was a terrible thing. It made people insecure and question themselves. It can shut them off from the world, too, from new love entering because they might just be afraid of what will happen if they succumb to it again. Could we chance getting hurt again? Why was there always the threat of ensuing pain when love came into the picture? That the pain always seemed to be inevitable? I wasn’t sure and for that, I hesitated, though the hesitation was killing me. I wanted to move forward but I didn’t know how. But I knew that this was a big obstacle for me. I wasn’t looking for love right then but I knew it might have just landed in my lap with Gil. I was afraid of it, afraid of the way he looked at me, like he felt something. And he did. I felt it, too. But it was too soon after my breakup.
We’d have to try this again later. He’d just have to understand. So, I tried to push past him but he wouldn’t let me open the door so he could, then, step through it and leave. I stepped back and crossed my arms, glaring at him. Why wouldn’t he just go? I wanted him to leave so I could make a plan about what to do with my life now and somehow, get wrapped back up in my security, the security which was now evading me. I felt insecure not knowing what I was going to do. But I knew one thing for sure and that was I wasn’t going to continue this…this…whatever this was he and I had. This just wouldn’t work out. This was too much for me. I couldn’t handle it, these mind games. I just wanted him to go. Why wouldn’t he just go?
But I knew the answer to this. It was because he knew why I’d invited him here in the first place and it certainly wasn’t for coffee and stimulating conversation. He knew I wanted to get fucked and he wanted to fuck me. The problem was that I was too inhibited. I had trouble asking for sex, even admitting I wanted it to myself. I just couldn’t cross that line to get what I wanted. Of course, he was going to let me get what I wanted and that was because he more than wanted to give it to me, if only I could just open myself up to allow it. That was the problem, getting past the self-consciousness and onto the sex. But I’d always been like that, even with my ex. That might have been why we broke up. He wanted sex all the time and I didn’t. I was content to just read a book or watch TV. He was a pushover though and he let me have it my way. We rarely had sex and when we did, it wasn’t that spectacular. But Gil? Well, he was different. He wanted sex and wasn’t afraid to let me know that he wanted it. Besides that, he wasn’t a pushover. Moreover, he liked to play games, mind games. I almost think he just loved to torment me in that way. It gave him a kick to wind me up and watch me go crazy. I suppose it would be entertaining for him if I did.
“Just one kiss,” he said. “Come on. Let’s just try it. Just one kiss.”
Just one kiss… But I knew that one would lead to two and I was terrified of three. I wasn’t built for this, for this strong sexual attraction, for this need. But he made me want him. He was tall and muscular. He was handsome; his dark hair lightened by the sun and his skin tanned by it. He was a man, pure and simple, and that meant he was strong. I was a woman. Did that make me weak? I knew I was weakened by these games we played.
“It’s supposed to be fun,” I muttered.
“It is fun,” he replied. “We just have to get through this awkward part.”
He was waiting on me, waiting me out. He was being patient. He was willing to help me through this, to take me to the other side. But I didn’t know why it was so hard for me to just do it. Why was it so hard? Why did I feel the need to cover it up and pretend I didn’t have it this need? And the need was for sex, pure and simple. I wanted sex. I just couldn’t allow myself to admit I wanted it. And I couldn’t allow him to see how much I wan
ted it. But I did want it and I wanted to feel the satisfaction from having it. So, why couldn’t I go through with it? With the sex? What was the big deal? It was just sex. I was a free woman; it was okay if I fucked him. But something in me held me back, kept me subdued, kept me from getting what I wanted.
“Come on, Mina,” he muttered and stepped in closer to me. “Come on, just one kiss.”
Just one kiss… Just one. That’s all. One kiss. Why not? Why not just one kiss? What could it hurt? I was afraid of letting go, that’s all, of trusting, of getting hurt again. And I knew that if I allowed Gil in and he hurt me, it would kill me. I already felt more for him than I ever had for my ex. That’s what scared me, that’s what held me back. It was causing my erratic behavior. It was blocking me and would not let me through. And it was just fear, plain and simple. I was too afraid to go through with it, the sex. I was too afraid of falling in love again. The sex would cement our attraction and then… Well, I couldn’t really handle another breakup any time soon. I, simply, didn’t want to get hurt.
He was waiting. He was waiting on me. This was it. Do it, do it now, get it over with. And so I did. No more holding back, driving myself crazy. This was it. Now. Do it now.
He was still waiting. Would he wait forever? I doubted it. He would soon grow bored with me, with this little goody-goody act I had. But I wasn’t a goody-goody. Not really. Never had been. So why could I not just cross that line and get what I wanted? And what I wanted was to be fucked by him, this handsome man who had, more or less, been waiting patiently on me. I realized he wasn’t the one playing games, I was. That made me feel embarrassed. That made me realize I was acting like a fool, like an idiot. It made me want to do it, to take what he was offering me. I knew our sex wouldn’t be the “slam, bam, thank you ma’am” variety. I knew he had something up his sleeve and the thought of letting him do whatever he wanted to do to me made me more than just a little nervous. But what would he do to me? It was as intriguing as it was scary. Maybe I should… No. I wasn’t going to play that game again. I was going to get what I wanted. And so, yes, it was time. But could I do it? I could. Surely, I could. I just had to have some faith in myself; I had to have some trust in Gil. I had to let go of the fear of him hurting me. And I had to fuck him. I had to do it. It was the only way to get through this block. This was what men and women do, right? I could do it, too.
“Mina?” he said. “What’s next?”
“I don’t know,” I said, leaving it up to him. “You figure it out.”
“Does that mean that you trust me?”
I thought about that and nodded in the affirmative. I did. I trusted him. I said, “Yes. I trust you.”
He smiled. I couldn’t smile back. I was too nervous. And I wanted it. I wanted him to do it and do it quickly so I could end this madness. I was in such a twist about everything since my breakup I didn’t know what to do or how to think. Maybe this was too soon, but then again, I couldn’t stay by myself for an eternity. And I wasn’t saving myself for any sort of future relationship. I had to live in the moment and the moment right now dictated that I fuck Gil. He was the best bet to get me over this barrier.
“Yes, Gil,” I said. “You can do whatever you like.”
He smiled. He liked that idea. He came over to me, bending down a little and took my face in his hands. I allowed him to look into my eyes and then let him brush his lips against mine. Shivers went up and down my spine and I began to panic and want to run away again. But there was no going back. No going back after this. I was sick of going back. I just wanted to go forward.
“Gil,” I said and pushed him away. “I just—”
He wouldn’t let me finish. He shook his head. “You said you trusted me.”
I had said that.
“So be quiet,” he demanded.
I nodded and stopped talking, thinking, reacting. I was headed into the moment. I knew that’s where I was going and I was going fast. No stopping now.
“Relax,” he said. “We’ll take it slow.”
I nodded and allowed him to walk me back though the living room and into the bedroom. I allowed him to push me down on the bed and then… Then I felt so stupid, like a virgin. Maybe I was a virgin again. I hadn’t been with another man since the day I’d met my boyfriend, nearly five years ago, when I was only twenty-six. That was a long time to spend with just one man. Wasn’t it?
“Close your eyes,” he said.
I closed my eyes and bit my bottom lip.
“Now just relax,” he said and began to caress my body. “God, you’re so beautiful. Anyone ever told you that?”
I nodded. Yeah, I’d gotten that line a few times. Once I was at a party and a guy was flirting with me. After a while, he leaned back and said, “You’re very beautiful.” It made me nervous, though, and made me wonder why he had done such a thing, mostly because I had gone to the party with my ex-boyfriend and I was more than sure he had come with a date. But I just shrugged it off and excused myself, feeling slightly odd. Fact was, I rarely felt beautiful. I knew I looked good, but I was never comfortable with it. I wanted to be comfortable with it. I wanted to show the world I liked who I was and I liked the way I looked. It was a hard thing for me to do, though.
But Gil wanted me to feel it. He wanted me to feel beautiful. He was taking his time to undress me. My shirt was now on the floor. Then he was pushing his hand across my chest, then down to my breasts, still secure in my bra. My nipples rose up in anticipation of his mouth and I began to yearn for him. My heartbeat escalated and my breathing became faster. I could feel his hand on my breast. I could feel the need in his body. He needed this to go through. He’d been patient long enough. But… But…
I rose up on my elbows and pushed him away. He paused and stared at me, then his head dropped and I could read his thoughts: Again? She’s doing this again? And I was. What was wrong with me? It was in there, that sexuality, and it wanted out. Why couldn’t I let it out?
Without a word, he rose from the bed, staring me in the eye. I stared back, thinking he was leaving and this time for good. But I was wrong. What he did next shocked me.
He went over to my dresser and pulled out the top drawer, rummaged around then pushed it back in and went the next and then the next and then the next like he was looking for something. I started to say something, to ask him what he was doing but he held a hand up, silencing me. I didn’t speak and waited to see what he was doing. Finally, he stopped. He had apparently found what he was looking for and pulled something out of the last drawer. I recognized it as a scarf I sometimes tied around my head to get that mod, sixties rich girl on a yacht look. I loved that scarf. But what was he doing with it?
I sat up as he neared the bed and waited. He leaned over and wrapped the scarf around my eyes, covering them. What was he doing? My eyes were covered. I was in the dark. He was in control. I felt a slight panic.
“Gil,” I began to protest. “What are—”
“I’m done with this,” he said. “Now you can either do this or I will leave. This is it, Mina. I won’t try again.”
“But what are you doing?” I asked. I’d never had this done to me before.
“Why don’t you just trust me?” he said, growing impatient again.
Trust him? Could I? Should I? But… But…
“This is what it’s going to take,” he said and pushed me back on the bed. “Just go with it.”
I tensed. I didn’t like feeling so vulnerable, so open and raw. But then I realized something. If he was in control, then I wasn’t. If he had control, then all I had to do was follow his lead. I no longer had to think about it. I could surrender control of what was going to happen. If I did that, everything might just fall into place and allow me to sate my ever growing sexual appetite for him. It was about surrender, wasn’t it? Surrendering oneself to another so they could do as they pleased to you, to your body and soul. For your love, even. Surrendering yourself so that someone else could b
ring out the desires in you that would have otherwise stayed hidden. Was that what might come out of this? Love? Something to cherish, to hold onto, to take and to consume?
And so, I surrendered. I let him have control. The reins were in his hands now. And then… Then I heard him removing his belt. His belt. I tensed with anticipation and waited, turning my face to the side and I listened with rapt attention, trying to figure out what he was doing, what he was going to do with the belt. Then my arms were above my head and he was tying my hands together with his belt. With his belt. What the hell? And what could I do? All of a sudden, I didn’t care. I was going with it. I began to feel something different, something tantalizing. I began to feel arousal and anticipation of what was to come. Next, my legs were tied with what I assumed was another scarf from my dresser. In less than a minute, I had been rendered submissive. Now I no longer had a choice. I had to do as he wanted.
As he wanted. And then I realized this was what he had planned all along, to get me to submit to him, to his desires. And, oddly enough, I was fine with that. I began to feel excitement then, wondering what he was going to do next. But just before I handed myself over to the experience, my good old friend insecurity showed up. And, along with it, my good old friend fear.
