Just Sex

by Kristen Flowers

  He climbed over me and picked the condom off the bed. I sat up just enough to snatch it from his hands and rip open the wrapper myself. I stared down at hardness, throbbing for me. I placed the condom on the tip and slowly rolled it down, maintain eye contact with him the entire time. From the look in his eyes, I could tell he wasn’t used to women being so forward.

  Maybe I was different somehow than the women he usually slept with. What I could say for sure was that he hadn’t met any of them the way he met me. I giggled softly and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him down for a steamy kiss. He reached down between us to aim himself at my slick opening. He stared at me with a slight smirk as I sucked in a nervous breath, waiting for the moment that was finally here. Slowly, he pressed his head inside and forced a moan out of me. I opened my legs a little wider to invite him in. I was more than ready to feel his full length inside of me.

  He pushed in a little deeper. I tensed for a moment before relaxing. As soon as I did, he pressed his entire length inside. I felt my body grip around him and let out a low groan of pleasure.

  “Yes,” I panted heavily, “fuck that feels good.”

  He rocked his hips back and forth, thrusting in and out of me. I wrapped my legs around him and drew him in deeper as the room filled with the rhythmic slapping of our skin. It wasn’t long before I was digging my nails into his shoulders and he held my body against him in a tight embrace. He was pumping in and out of me so fast it was hard for me to match his pace with my own hips. I threw my body back on the bed when I felt the pleasure building up inside of me. He jerked his hips forward and grunted as his thrusting started to slow.

  The all to familiar orgasm coiled up inside of me, ready to explode across my body.

  I was close and I knew he was too.

  His mouth clamped over one of my nipples and sucked. That was all it took to push me over the edge.

  In a flash my legs trembled and shook. My toes curled in a ball and my nails clawed at his back as a silent scream knotted in my throat. He pushed in deep, stilling his thrusts as he pumped and pulsed inside of me.

  As soon as we were done we laid there for a moment, panting and trying to catch our breath. After a few moments he stood up to dispose of the condom and clean up.

  “You’re more than welcome to shower and spend the night.”

  I felt more than exhausted so I agreed, “I’ll consider it the long-overdue therapeutic recovery from the nose injury.”

  We laughed together as I laid on his bed, naked and uncovered and still cooling down from our hot encounter.

  It was early morning, but Amanda was already out of bed and getting dressed. Meanwhile, I was still nude and stretched out relaxing. I had nowhere to be for a while and I had every intention of enjoying the morning. I watched her get dressed and walk into the restroom to clean up a bit. I didn’t even have to drop a hint for her to leave. She started getting ready all on her own.

  I sat up and the thin sheet that was draped over my lap fell off, exposing my naked body. I didn’t care, it wasn’t like there was anything there she hadn’t seen already. She had done much more than see me, after all. I smirked in satisfaction. The young woman from the ‘airplane incident’ years ago was now getting ready to leave my place after a night of hot sex. That was definitely an interesting turn of events.

  She stepped out of the bathroom and looked over at me. I couldn’t read her face, but figured it was a good thing she didn’t look upset in any way. “It’s later,” she said.

  I tilted my head and looked at her in confusion. I had no idea what she was talking about. Amanda laughed and took a step toward me, but still didn’t walk all the way to the bed. She had her eyes fixed on me; not once had her gaze lingered to any other exposed part of my body.

  “Your scar,” she reminded, “You said you’d tell me about it later. So what’s the story?”

  “I thought you’d forget about that.”

  “Nope,” she said, taking another step forward. She pointed at my chest, “Even if I did, it’s kind of staring me in the face now, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not the only thing staring you in the face,” I pointed out.

  “Oh, don’t be gross,” she said with a playful roll of her eyes and shake of her head.

  She seemed a lot more laid back than I would have anticipated. I shifted in bed and leaned back against the headboard, drawing a sheet over my lap. I placed my hands behind my head and looked straight ahead rather than at her. I wasn’t sure exactly what sort of details she wanted to hear, but the scar on my chest wasn’t something I ever talked about. It certainly wasn’t a topic of conversation with any of my one-night stands. Some of them had asked about it, but it was clear it was just curiosity. After I brushed off the question, they usually forgot to ask again. But it was different with Amanda. It wasn’t just curiosity. And it didn’t feel like she was invading my privacy either.

  “I’ll bet it’s the consequence of one of the many one-night stands you’ve managed to really piss off,” she told me jokingly.

  I laughed and shrugged, “That’s a fair bet.”

  “Well?”

  I could tell she wasn’t going to let that joke be the end of it. She would only stop pressing the issue if I answered or flat-out told her I didn’t want to talk about it. I drew my legs up to my chest and rested my arms on my knees as I looked at her, debating on what I wanted to do. As I kept looking into her dark blue eyes, I felt a strange, warm sensation flood over my body. Her eyes were gentle and understanding. It took me a while to realize it was a good thing, only because it was something I wasn’t used to feeling. I was drawn to her. She was interesting and more free than I had thought of her at first. She didn’t take shit from anybody and never seemed needy. Even through the whole airplane ordeal she was strong and confident. I cleared my throat and looked down at the white sheet over my lap. She was asking me in a way that brought me a strange sort of comfort like she might actually care to hear the story. I had never been around a woman like that before.

  “Alright,” I finally muttered.

  Amanda held up her hand, “If you really don’t want to–” she said softly

  “It’s fine.”

  She walked over cautiously and perched herself neatly on the edge of the bed, facing me. She looked beautiful in the early morning light of the bedroom. The sunlight made her caramel brown hair shimmer. Her dark blue eyes stood out against her fair skin. She practically glowed. Absentmindedly, I ran the tips of my fingers over the scar on my chest.

  I couldn’t bring myself to look at her when I told her the story, so I just stared at the blankets crumpled up on the bed.

  “I grew up in foster care. You know the cliché story. Kids go from home to home and, more often than not, they aren’t really taken care of. The kids who grow up like that don’t have a sense of family life. It’s part of the deal, you know? Anyway. I got placed in a couple of bad homes.” I drew in a breath, trying to speak robotically and not summon up any bad memories. “So this scar that you see on my chest is a consequence of that.”

  There was a long pause before she quietly spoke, “I’m sorry for the joke I made about the angry one-night stand. Ethan, if I’d have known–”

  I waved my hand to quiet her, “But you didn’t know. It’s not a big deal. It was a joke and I’m not going to get all bent out of shape over it.”

  “I’m still sorry,” she said.

  “I know. Even when someone tells you it’s okay, you can’t help but feel guilty. Even if it’s an accident you feel badly for it. I know how that is.” I pointed at the bridge of my nose, but still didn’t turn to look at her.

  Amanda made a strange noise that sounded like she was trying to hold back a giggle at the joke I had just made. I knew she would end up pitying me like this.

  “Life has a way of leaving scars on you.” I said, finally looking up at her for a moment. Now I was afraid she thought I was some fragile kid she couldn’t laugh around. I curled my hand into a fist. Ma
ybe I made a mistake in telling her about my past.

  “I don’t think yours was an accident,” she told me.

  “You think I cut your nose on purpose?” I asked loudly and made sure to look affronted. I was avoiding the real topic and acting silly because I knew she was referring to the scar on my chest.

  “Not at all,” she told me, “But that one on your chest looks like it was done with a purpose.”

  “It was. It was done to shut me up.”

  I gulped hard. That was the first time I had told anyone that and I had no idea why it just came spilling out of me now. It wasn’t something I planned on sharing with her, or anyone for that matter. But the moment of feeling like she was pitying me and the regret that came with it was fleeting. The sense of comfort that washed over me at the start of conversation came back, stronger than before. There was something about the sound of her voice that did it. She didn’t sound like she was trying to come off any certain way. She sounded genuine.

  Meanwhile, my voice was a droll and even-toned the entire time, as if I were talking about some boring topic in any regular business meeting. There was no trace of emotion as I spoke. If the topic weren’t so heavy, nobody would ever think it affected my life. I had made it a point to be nonchalant whenever the topic came up, even if vaguely because I never wanted anyone to sense vulnerability in me. Even though my past caused a lot of pain, I had learned to live by ignoring it. This was the first time I opened up like this to anyone, especially a woman I only intended to be with for a night of fun.

  “I don’t understand how someone could do that,” Amanda finally broke the silence.

  I was too caught up in my thoughts to realize how long the room had been quiet. I shrugged, “It’s not really a surprise to me at this point. I’ve seen some ugly sides to people and that started at a very young age. Most people are quite self-serving and I think many would be shocked to know just how many people are willing to go too far.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry to say I’m one of the many people who’d be shocked,” Amanda admitted.

  “Why sorry to say? You should be glad. Be thankful. It’s not like I’m angry at people who didn’t have to grow up in that kind of a system.” Amanda stayed quiet so I went on, “I tried to do something about it once. Just once.”

  “And that’s when it happened?”

  I nodded, “It was enough to stop me from trying again. I realized that not only was there no point, it would just make things worse for me. This particular foster home came with an abusive foster mother and foster sister. She was two years older than me and, to the outside world, was perfect as can be. Straight-A student, pleasant, popular, and with outstanding morals. She did a lot of charity work with her mom too. So nobody would believe they were abusive to the person they were supposed to take care of. I tried to gather evidence, but the mom caught me. She threatened me, but decided it wasn’t enough. She started hitting me with the belt and its buckle. Even that wasn’t enough for her so…” I made a cutting motion across my chest.

  I snuck a quick glance at Amanda from the corner of my eye. Even then I could tell she was on the verge of tears. There was a tugging in my stomach and a tightening in my chest. I swallowed the lump in my throat and willed myself not to show her just how painful it was to talk about this. Even though she was so caring up until now, I didn’t want her to think different of me.

  “I can’t even fathom or comprehend what life like that must be like for a child. It’s just so awful that you, and so many others, lived through it. What do people like them get out of it? At what cost?”

  “I don’t think it’s something people who aren’t awful can wrap their minds around. Even after I lived through it I still can’t give a straight answer. There’s some awful shit out there.”

  “There is,” Amanda said softly.

  “I’m glad you can’t relate, though,” I told her.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  I nodded and finally turned to look at her, “To me, it means you had at least a decent or bearable childhood. I hope I’m not assuming incorrectly.”

  Amanda shook her head, “You’re not. I was very lucky. I had a great childhood with my family in Ohio.”

  I could see she felt guilty about admitting it. I wanted to scoot forward and let her know she didn’t need to feel that way. I felt like I needed to reassure her that it was okay that are lives growing up were completely different. I wished I could let her know that wasn’t something I would ever hold against her. The problem with that, no matter how true it all was, was that it stung. It hurt too much to do it. It was too vulnerable, too honest, and too much. She would never know what that sort of life was like, but I never wished it on anyone. I thought people deserved to grow up happily like Amanda.

  All I could do was turn away from her and gulp, “You’re right. That is lucky. That’s… really good.” I had almost told her I was happy she grew up that way but, at the last moment, the words failed me.

  I looked at the clock. There were still a couple hours left before I needed to leave, but I was starting to feel suffocated. I needed to get out. I had to clear my mind before the day started and there were plenty of ways to keep busy in New York. I stood up and walked silently into my closet, pulling out gym clothes and throwing them into my gym bag. I threw the strap over my shoulder and turned to look at her. She was already standing up and waiting for me to say something else.

  “I should head out now,” I said, somewhat awkwardly.

  “Right,” Amanda said, “Sorry. I hope I didn’t keep you.”

  “No worries.”

  The two of us walked out of the condo in silence and got on the elevator to leave the building at the same time.

  The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Just before I stepped out ahead of Ethan, I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder. I turned to look at him. Just like before, he looked nonchalant. I wondered if he ever let his guard down more than he had upstairs. It wasn’t lost on me how open and honest he was.

  “Yes?”

  Ethan gave half a smile, “So how am I supposed to get ahold of you if we ever want to continue this?”

  “Continue this? Um,” I let out a sigh, “I don’t do relationships anymore, Ethan.”

  “Okay. And why is that?”

  I stepped off the elevator and he followed. I looked around and saw the lobby of the building was pretty much deserted. Looking out the glass doors leading to the street, I noticed how different everything had appeared at night. Of course, I had noticed how nice of a neighborhood and building he lived in, but it looked even more so bathed in the morning light.

  I cleared my throat and turned back to look at him dead in the eyes, “I don’t do relationships because men are assholes.” I looked up for a brief moment as I tried to come up with more words to describe such vile creatures. “And gross vulgar pigs.”

  Ethan rolled his eyes halfway, “Well, that’s okay. I don’t do relationships either, Amanda.”

  “I’m not surprised, but what’s your reason?”

  “Oh, you want just one reason?”

  I rolled my eyes just like he had, “Whatever you’ve got. Don’t try to be clever.”

  “I’m not trying,” he grinned. He took a step forward and turned his body to face me. He stared me dead in the eyes, “Women are all bitchy, needy, and nag way too damn much.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Call those the top three reasons if you want,” he said, “Oh, and a lot of them are gold diggers.” He motioned at the walls around us, “Especially after seeing this.”

  I laughed, “Oh, you’re naïve if you think they didn’t peg you for a rich guy before they stepped foot in this lobby. Just by looking at you I’m sure those so-called gold diggers knew. You’re such an obvious pretty boy.”

  “I may be well dressed, but I’m certainly not a ‘pretty boy’.”

  “You’re right. My mistake. But your cockiness is as obvious as the clothes you wear and that limo you ride around in.”


  “Is it a crime to have nice things?” Ethan laughed.

  “I didn’t say that. But it’s clear you're just another rich, cocky, playboy.”

  “Sure, whatever. I’m too obvious with my wealth and of course gold-diggers can sniff it out,” he said. He didn’t exactly sound amused, but he obviously wasn’t angry.

  “Sniff? Are you really talking about women like that? You’re even more disgusting than I thought,” I told him. “Oh, you know what? Don’t act like you don’t live for the attention. You love it! That’s why you enjoy showing off so they can be sure to see you.”

  “Honey, I don’t need to try hard to be noticed, trust me. And it’s not the clothes or the car. But I’m sure they see the same things you did, the same things you just pointed out, which is probably why so many of them agree to go home with me.”