by Sadie Grey
“Well, we all can’t be beautiful billionaires,” I said with a sigh.
He continued to shape his watery landscape.
“Does money have something to do with beauty? Am I more attractive to you because I’m rich?”
I thought about it for a second. “No, actually. It’s kind of intimidating to tell the truth.”
He paused his painting and looked hard into my eyes. “You are telling the truth.” He seemed surprised. “In my experience, it’s the opposite.”
I shrugged as best as I could considering my limbs were bound. “When I met you, I didn’t know you were rich. I still liked you.”
“But you don’t like me anymore?” He continued to paint his stormy sea. The slick strokes of the paint brush were having an uncomfortable effect on me.
“You’re an interesting guy. I’ll give you that. But I don’t want to date you, no.”
His lips quirked into a smile, but he didn’t say anything. Did he think I was lying? Was I lying, even to myself? Surely, if I had any sense, I would forgive him for that one bad night. He was gorgeous and creative and he could buy a small country with his wealth. He was every girl’s dream. So what was holding me back?
His voice brought me out of my musings.
“How old were you when you lost your virginity?” he asked.
I let out an exasperated sigh. “Does it always come back to sex with you?”
He smiled. “Trust me, there’s a point to all of this. Our deepest feelings, the ones we hide from the world and from ourselves, are often linked to our feelings regarding sexuality.”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“Sex is a defining factor of our identities. It’s intrinsically bound with our fears and insecurities. The way we feel about sex has a great deal to do with how we feel about ourselves.”
“I think that’s too simplistic,” I replied. “People are much more complicated than that.”
“People are incredibly complicated, true. But this is an aspect of the human experience that I find fascinating, and I choose to explore that aspect when given the chance.”
“Do you get the chance often?”
“No, almost never. And you’ve avoided the question for long enough. How old were you the first time you had sex?”
I paused. “Sixteen.”
He put the brush down on the palette beside him. His eyes looked into mine. I stared back, trying not to let him see the fear I was feeling. Yes, I had lied to him, but he could never know that. Not unless I reacted.
He lifted a blue candle from the table and held it in front of him. It cast hard shadows on his face. The effect was intimidating, but he would have to do better than that to get me to tell him the truth. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yep.”
He extended his arm so that the candle hovered above my stomach. Almost in slow motion, he turned the candle sideways and poured a burning line of wax across my skin. The hot band of fire bloomed on my belly and I hissed in pain.
“Jesus!” I exclaimed.
The moment the words were out of my mouth, the wax was already cooling, but the memory of fire remained. I twisted in my bonds to stretch my skin, trying to feel if there was any permanent damage. I felt nothing other than the tight feeling of wax sealing my skin.
“You could have warned me first,” I said.
“I did. I told you not to lie to me.”
I looked into the mirror at the line of splattered blue that now served as the northern border of my southern sea. It matched the color of the paint.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“I don’t want apologies. I want the truth. How old were you?”
“Nineteen,” I said with a sigh.
He placed the candle back on the table and picked up another paint brush.
“Why did you lie about it?” he asked.
“It’s embarrassing, I guess.”
“Why?”
He began to sketch the outlines of a ship around the word “LIAR.” The letters became the sails, although it was still easily readable in the mirror.
“I was sort of a late bloomer. Boys didn’t really notice me until after high school.” Unpleasant memories surfaced within me. Adolescence wasn’t my favorite part of growing up.
“And you’re ashamed of that? You’re ashamed of something that you had no control over?”
“Well, ashamed is a strong word. I don’t know, it just makes me feel like…”
“Say it,” he said sternly.
“It makes me feel like there’s something wrong with me, okay?”
Unbidden tears stung my eyes with the admission. It was something I had never fully articulated in my mind. Admitting it to Dominic, hell, admitting it to myself, was painful. It left me feeling shaken and vulnerable.
I watched in the mirror as he painted an angry gray storm cloud over my heart.
“You still feel that way?” he asked.
“No. I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You feel like you don’t deserve to be loved?”
The question hit me like a sucker punch to the soul. A host of insecurities arose within me, taunting me, mocking me. I knew then that the answer to his question was yes. I wasn’t pretty enough. I wasn’t cool enough. I just wasn’t good enough. How could anyone love a woman like me?
“Please,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Can we talk about something else?”
He nodded. “Let’s go back a bit. Who did you lose your virginity to?”
The question was intrusive, although after the last one, it didn’t seem nearly so bad. Still, the subject of my first time was not something I wanted to discuss so I tried to play it off.
“Oh, just a guy,” I said.
Before I could react, Dominic snatched a candle from the table. He splashed a circle of yellow wax on my shoulder, causing a hot sun to blaze on my skin. I hissed and watched myself squirm in the mirror above me. I was painted in fantastic kaleidoscope colors from the candles, but the paint and the wax stood out clearly.
Pain contorted my face, but it almost looked like I was smiling. It was disconcerting to see my own reactions. It was not something I was used to.
Nor was I used to seeing myself lying naked and bound while a handsome man interrogated me. The whole thing felt like a crazy dream. That dreamlike quality gave me the courage to be honest, with both Dominic and with myself, because none of this seemed real.
This whole day felt like a moment outside of time. A moment that was not actually a part of my life. The clock would tick down to zero, I would put on my old clothes, and I would never see Dominic again. I wondered if I would look back on this day fondly. Probably more fondly than when I lost my virginity.
Fingers snapped in front of my face. “Hey, where did you go?”
“What?”
“Your eyes went far away. I need you present for this. And I need you to answer fully.”
“What do you mean?”
“I asked you who you lost your virginity to. Tell me about him. Don’t say ‘just a guy.’ That’s the same as lying.”
“Look, I really don’t want to talk about that, alright?”
“Was it,” he stopped. “A traumatic experience?”
I knew what he was asking but was too afraid to say. For a second I considered lying and saying yes, just to sidestep the question, but there were some things you just don’t lie about.
“No, it’s just not a fun memory.”
“If it’s too painful to talk about, I understand. I’m not trying to torture you.”
“No, it’s fine. Just embarrassing and stupid.”
“I suspect you have that in common with almost everyone else in the world. First times tend to be less than graceful affairs.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“I’ve found that the best way to make peace with the past is to confront it. Once you face it head on, the past loses its power over you, and you can finally let it go.”
“Go on,” he said. He grabbed another paintbrush and slouched over my ankle. I took a deep breath and told him the story about my first time.
Chapter 13
Back then I didn’t go out much. I still don’t, I guess, but I was much more of a shut-in during my freshman year. I had just moved up to the city and everyone seemed so much smarter and cooler and more sophisticated than me.
Everywhere I went, I felt like the odd man out. People would be talking, their conversations in full swing, and I couldn’t find a way to jump in and join them. I always stood on the edge of the crowd, unable to break in.
Then a random girl from one of my classes invited me to a party. We weren’t friends or anything. I don’t even remember her name. Anyway, I was thrilled. I was like, this is my time to get out there and make some friends. I got all dressed up and headed over.
When I got there, all the awesome plans in my head flew out the window. The party was just like everywhere else. Everyone seemed to know each other and I was the loser standing off to the side by myself.
Then I had the brilliant idea that I should get drunk. I figured a little liquid courage would help me loosen up and meet people. I remember I was drinking some kind of punch. Something that was red and fruity but also kind of tasted like cough medicine. It was pretty gross, but I kept drinking in the hope that the next drink would flip some magical switch in my head that would suddenly make me sociable.
Instead of making me more comfortable, I ended up feeling lightheaded and a little paranoid. I drifted further from the clusters of laughing people and off into the corner of the room. I just felt safer there.
A slightly older guy approached me in my lonely corner and started chatting me up. Just the fact that anyone was talking to me was a relief, but the fact that it was a good looking guy was even better.
I remember thinking he looked so interesting. He was dressed better than most of the guys at the party. He was more put together. His clothes seemed to match and they fit him perfectly. Looking back he was a total hipster, but at the time, he seemed so fashionable. So sophisticated.
And the things he talked about sounded so exotic to me. He told me about bands I had never heard of. About places he had traveled to and the people he met there. About cool restaurants and bars around the city. He had been all over and done so much. I had never been anywhere. And he was talking to me of all people. He made me feel special and important.
We ended up leaving the party together and going back to his place. By then, my head was swimming. He told me how beautiful I was. How fascinating I was. He said everything I hoped he would say, all the sweet nothings I was burning to hear.
To be honest, I ate it up. He was so goddamn cool and I was so goddamn not. The fact that he liked me was a dream come true. An ultimate validation that I, too, was one of the cool kids. That I finally fit in.
Things got hot and heavy between us. He wasn’t a great kisser, but I was inexperienced and I thought maybe I was the one doing it wrong.
Things progressed. He started unbuttoning my blouse. I was hesitant. Before that, I had never really done much with guys, but I liked him, and I didn’t want to let on that I was so nervous that I wanted to throw up. I let him take my shirt off and tried to be cool.
I stood in front of him with my breasts bared, trembling and unsure. He was sweet and gentle. He told me how sexy I was. Told me how much I turned him on. His words took some of the edge off my fear.
We undressed each other slowly. Playfully. Until we both stood naked in front of each other. I had never been with a naked man before. I mean, I had seen pictures and videos, but being face to face with it in real life was a whole different story.
I explored his body with my hands. I touched his chest, his arms, his face. He took one of my hands firmly in his and placed it on his penis. I couldn’t believe how hard it was. I wasn’t sure what to do so I grabbed it and gave it a firm squeeze.
Can you believe that? Just remembering it is making my face red. Do you ever get that? You think about something embarrassing you did years ago and you get embarrassed all over again?
Of course, you don’t. I’m sure you never do anything embarrassing, Mr. Perfect.
Anyway, he grabbed my hand and guided it over his erection, showing me how it should be done. I stroked him and I could tell he was enjoying it.
I can’t really describe how amazing that made me feel. Knowing that I could have that kind of effect on him. That I could make him feel that good. It was such a rush. It turned me on like crazy.
He pushed me down on the bed. I was having so much fun playing with his cock that I ignored his fumbling with my breasts. He was clumsy and awkward, although at the time I didn’t know any better.
He had been much smoother with his clothes on. Still, I wanted him to like me. My need for affection overpowered everything else. I wanted to impress him, I guess. To prove to him, and maybe myself, that I was as cool as he was. That I was just as sophisticated. That sex was no big deal. This is just what regular people did, and I was one of those regular people. I kept telling myself to stop being a prude.
He put his head between my legs. The sensation was like nothing I had ever felt before. His tongue stroked me and my body responded to him, even though he was pretty unskilled. After a while, it became clear he wasn’t going to make me come. Not even close. But hey, fair is fair, right?
I gently pushed him off me and took him in my mouth. He was so hard and warm. I teased him with my tongue, and he groaned ridiculously. I would occasionally look up at him to see if what I was doing was working. This was all new to me, but I wanted to do it right. I wanted to make him come, even if he couldn’t make me come.
I asked him to tell me when he was going to finish so he didn’t do it in my mouth, but of course, he didn’t say anything. His hips jerked. That was the only warning I had before I tasted that first shot.
I pulled away, and he ended up unloading the rest on my face. I wasn’t thrilled with it, but I figured hey, at least I’d gotten him off. Mission accomplished. By then, I was just tired, and all I wanted to do was sleep. I figured once I’d made him come, we were all good.
But he had different ideas. He wiped my face with my panties and renewed his advances with a fury. It was as if his orgasm turned him on more instead of satisfying him.
To his credit, he was hard again pretty quickly. Not that I wanted him to be. But still. We lay next to each other and his body was pressed fully against mine. I could feel his hardness poking between my legs. Searching for my sex.
It was weird. Even though I didn’t really like him, my body was on fire. I wanted him inside me. I wanted him to fuck me. Things had not gone smoothly so far, but I was ready. And from the way he had been talking, I just sort of assumed we were a couple now. That this was going to be a long term thing. So I figured, why not let him be my first?
I lay back and spread my legs. I’ll never forget the way he looked at me. He had this hungry look in his eyes. Like a beast about to eat its prey. All his cool sophistication was gone. He was just an animal now.
He stuck a condom on and positioned himself over me, rubbing his head between my legs. I liked the way it felt. Then he plunged himself into me. It hurt at first, but I had been expecting that. I had read enough about sex to know what was coming, physically anyway. Emotionally was another story.
He hammered away at me. I think he had watched too many pornos or gotten some bad advice. My whole body shook with his thrusts. Still, it felt kind of good. I could feel something building within me, but before it could materialize, his hips jerked against mine and he collapsed on top of me. I could already feel him shrinking inside me.
I was nowhere near satisfied, but I figured it would be better next time. Besides, my first time was just something that I needed to do, you know? Now I had checked it off my list and moved into a new phas
e of my life. Angie the virgin was gone. I was a woman.
I didn’t really have time to let it sink in. As soon as he caught his breath, he rolled off me and scrambled to get his clothes on. He told me it was great. Told me he had a good time, but he needed to be up early the next day for work.
I nodded and continued to lay there. Not understanding the subtext of his words. He was like, no, I need to get some sleep. I’ll give you a call one of these days.
I still didn’t understand. I forced him to say it.
He was like, you need to leave.
