The Virgin Dating Game

by Sky Corgan

  Although all I wanted to do was lay in bed and throw a pity party, I still had a lot of homework to get done, so I tried to push the events of the evening to the back of my mind while I got to work. Whenever a painful memory would slip through, I would feel my eyes begin to water. It was absolutely miserable, but there was nothing to be done about it but wait until the memories faded. They would, over time, I knew, but it was going to take a while, and seeing Damien Reed's face almost every day wasn't going to help.

  I had half a mind not to go to Art Appreciation the next day, but my attendance was already off to a bad start, and I didn't want to get any further behind. With a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach, I stepped into class, same as always, and found my way to the back of the room, prepared for an hour of complete and total discontent. Every time Damien Reed would look at me, I would avoid his gaze. Of course, he played like nothing had happened, conducting class with the same confidence as always. I, on the other hand, could think of nothing other than our steamy encounter in his office. The memory sent warm yearnings to my pussy, but cold stabbings to my heart.

  The minutes ticked by painfully slow, as if even the clock thought it was fun to torture me. Lecture was long and boring, and I couldn't be bothered to concentrate, so I doodled on a piece of paper for most of the class. Thankfully, Damien didn't call on m. I was already pissed enough at him as it was, though I still wasn't sure why. It was easier to blame everything on him, even though none of this would have happened if I hadn't of stolen his pen.

  Finally, class was over. I dragged myself out of my desk and headed toward the door. Damien intercepted my leaving though, gently grabbing me by the shoulder and pulling me off to the side of the room.

  “I want to see you after class again,” he told me, his eyes betraying no emotion.

  “What did I do this time?” I asked.

  “I want to talk to you about your grades.”

  You've got to be kidding me. He rejects me, and now he's going to badger me about my grades. Perhaps a small part of me had hoped that he would want to discuss the previous day. That was wishful thinking. His only motive was to rub salt in my wounds—to make me feel worse than I already did.

  “Fine,” I said, hoping it didn't sound bitchy as I turned from him to head out the door. I would definitely need to drop Art Appreciation. There was no point in taking the class if things were going to continue to spiral downward.

  Surprisingly, I was able to put Damien Reed out of my mind for the rest of the day. My emotions were completely numb towards the situation, my brain going into repair mode. Whatever happened next, it didn't matter. I couldn't emotionally handle being around him every day. I knew that now. No matter which direction this discussion went in, I would likely be dropping the class by the end of the week.

  When my last class was over, I headed back to Art Appreciation with purposeful steps. He can't hurt you again, was the mantra I repeated inside my head. While I wasn't sure if it was true, I forced myself to believe it, putting up my emotional defenses so that I didn't randomly start crying in the middle of our discussion.

  When I stepped into Damien Reed's office, I held my head high, displaying as much fake confidence as I could muster. I closed the door and took a seat before he even had a chance to tell me to, which I'm certain he would have.

  “You wanted to speak to me about my grades?” I said, preparing myself for the worst.

  “No.” He shook his head. “That was just a front to get you here so we could talk.”

  “Talk about what?” I crossed one leg over the other, smoothing down the front of my skirt.

  He hesitated, as if he wasn't sure how to begin. “I offer a special after school class on sex education.”

  “Mister Reed,” I said, purposely trying to get under his skin. “I have a full load of coursework as it is. I don't have time to take on another class, especially one as unnecessary as sex ed.”

  “It's . . . not that kind of class.” His brown eyes darkened, and there was a flash of uncertainty behind them.

  Now my interest was piqued. Was this redemption? Was he actually offering me more than meets the eye? Despite how angry I was with him, there was an unmistakable stirring in my loins at the thought. I squeezed my thighs together, trying to suppress it. My professional mannerisms were fading, and I had to fight to keep the act up and seem disinterested.

  “Well, what kind of class is it then?”

  “It's not the type of class I typically offer to my college students. It's a very intimate class, delving into sexual nature and fantasy.”

  The way he said it made all the sensitive areas in my body light up like Christmas lights. Just the mention of the word 'fantasy' caused my nipples to begin to perk. I sure had plenty of fantasies about Damien Reed, and this sounded like a good way to explore them further.

  “If you don't offer it to your college students, then why are you offering it to me?”

  “You seem like a very sensual woman. I thought you might be able to benefit from it.”

  My heart fluttered in my chest. He sees me as a . . . sensual woman. It took everything in me to suppress a lecherous grin.

  Damien pulled a folded up piece of paper from his desk drawer and handed it to me. “We would meet in the afternoons on Saturday and Sunday for about an hour. All the sessions are one-on-one, so you don't have to worry about feeling uncomfortable. You don't need to give me your decision now. If you're interested, turn that paper in to me before the end of the week, and I'll call you to give you my address, so we can start your lessons this upcoming weekend. If you're not interested, you can simply throw that questionnaire away and pretend I never said anything.

  “Please don't open that paper until you get home. There's nothing incriminating on it, but I would prefer you handle it with discretion.”

  “How much would the class cost?” I asked.

  “I'll take you on pro bono.” He smiled.

  The paper burned a hole in my backpack all the way home. I desperately wanted to open it as soon as I got in my car, but decided to respect Damien's wishes. By the time I pulled into my father's driveway, I couldn't wait any longer. I dug the piece of paper out and flipped it open to look at the contents. Down the front was a list of questions, all sexual in nature.

  Ignoring all other homework, I went to work answering the questionnaire as soon as I got inside. My responses to the questions were as follows:

  1. ) How many men have you had sex with?

  None.

  2.) Place a check mark next to the things you have experience with:

  Vaginal intercourse __

  Anal intercourse __

  Intercourse with a same sex partner __

  Giving oral sex __

  Receiving oral sex __

  3.) What do you have experience with not listed above?

  Dry humping.

  4.) Do you enjoy watching other people have sex or enjoy being watched while you're having sex?

  I enjoy watching __

  I enjoy being watched __

  I don't like watching but enjoy being watched __

  I don't like being watched but enjoy watching others __

  I don't enjoy watching or being watched __

  I have no preference _X_

  5.) What are you interested in learning about?

  Anything you're willing to teach me.

  6.) What will you absolutely not do?

  No bodily waste. No animals. No children. No anal sex.

  7.) Are you interested in learning about BDSM (Bondage & Discipline / Domination & Submission / Sadism & Masochism)?

  Sure. Why not.

  All the questions seemed easy enough to answer except for the ultimate sexual fantasy one. I wasn't quite sure what it meant, realistic fantasies or make-believe ones. Everyone has fantasies they'd never live out—fantasies they like to pleasure themselves to, like play rape and impossibly giant cocks stuffing them from both ends, or maybe even monster sex.

 
When I thought about it though, it didn't really make sense to jot down something that wasn't even possible. Still, the context depended on what he'd gather from the information, and I had no idea what that was.

  Part of me wanted to write that I'd like to be taken by two men at once, but I was too embarrassed, and I didn't want to seem greedy. Besides, realistically, I wasn't sure if I would do it. I was a one-man woman. I didn't enjoy sharing, so I couldn't imagine my significant other wanting to share me. Anything else I could come up with was tame in comparison. In the end, I decided to leave the question blank.

  Nervousness welled in my stomach as I turned the paper in to Damien the next day. For a little while, I had thought about waiting until the end of the week, to take some time to decide if this was what I really wanted. More than likely, these after school classes were a gateway to having sex with him.

  If I didn't turn the paper in, I felt like I could wipe my slate clean, and things could continue as if nothing had happened between us. My carnal instincts wouldn't allow that though. I wanted Damien Reed. Maybe I hadn't been ready for him the first time he advanced on me, but now I was prepared. This wasn't a fantasy anymore.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I battled the butterflies in my stomach as I followed my GPS toward Damien Reed's house. Turn right here, then left there, it said, being annoying as usual. The neighborhood was unfamiliar to me, somewhere out where the country boarders the city. It was a hodgepodge of mixed housing, from rundown trailer homes to quaint little site-built homes. I wasn't sure what I should expect when I got to my destination.

  The road went on, and the mobile homes got sparser. Then the site-built homes got sparse as well, and I was beginning to think I had gotten lost. My stupid GPS wasn't always right, but it hadn't announced that it was recalculating, so all I could do was follow it with blind faith.

  I drove like a grandmother, taking in the scenery, and moving over onto the side of the road whenever a car was behind me. There was a massive white stone fence to my right and what appeared to be a game preserve to my left. A doe and her two fawns frolicked along the fence-line, looking especially adorable, though I couldn't pay much attention to them. Damien's house should be coming up anytime now.

  I checked the address one last time and then scouted ahead. All I could see in the immediate area was the game preserve and the place where the fence opened up into a driveway. This definitely couldn't be right. My GPS led me astray again.

  I cursed it as I pulled into the driveway, preparing to back up and turn around. Then I noticed the numbers on the gate and realized I was at the right spot.

  “No way,” I mouthed as I looked down the driveway toward the expansive house that sat on top of a small hill. I had seen it from a distance and instantly assumed it belonged to some rich ranch owner in the area. Never had I imagined it could belong to Damien Reed.

  Taking a deep breath, I pressed my foot to the gas peddle and forced my Miata to climb the hill, which led up to a circular driveway that surrounded a fountain, of all things. It was fairly simple, with three stone tiers that spilled water down on each other. Surrounding the fountain was a ring of red flowers, followed by another ring of blue flowers. Horticulture had never been my strong suit, so I had no idea what kind of flowers they were, but it was pretty.

  I took a deep breath as I killed the engine, looking over at the house. Somewhere inside, Damien Reed was waiting to give me lessons on sexual nature and fantasy, whatever that meant. I imagined him walking out of the house shirtless, and my loins ached with need. Such a sexual deviant, I was. Or, at least, my mind liked to pretend I was. In reality, I was a virgin, and my sexual experience was minimal. Still, my brain spent most of its time in the gutter, fabricating erotic fantasies, most of which involved Damien as of late. He had become a sort of obsession for me, a fetish that replayed in my mind every night when I pleasured myself before bed. It was hard to believe that my fantasies were about to be made flesh.

  “Just breathe,” I told myself as I opened the door and stepped out of my car, wondering if I had overdressed for the occasion. To be honest, my weekend wardrobe wasn't much different from school days. I wore pencil skirts or ankle length skirts on most days, coupled with a blouse that covered my entire chest. My clothes were form fitting, but far from seductive.

  Once I reached the doorstep, I straightened out the wrinkles in my skirt. Naturally, I wanted to look perfect for Damien. I had even taken extra time on my hair and makeup, though I doubted he'd notice. Men weren't the most observant creatures.

  I raised my hand to ring the doorbell and then waited until I heard footsteps on the other side. My heart drummed in my chest as the door handle began to turn. This was it. There was no going back now.

  Apparently, I wasn't the only one who didn't vary my wardrobe much between weekends and weekdays. Damien was rocking his typical tight-fitting jeans and T-shirt, making my imagination run rampant with thoughts of what was underneath them. I had already seen his impressive cock, but the rest of his naked body remained a mystery to me—a mystery I hoped would soon be discovered.

  “Come on in,” he said, stepping aside without so much as a smile.

  “This is a nice place.” I gazed around the interior of the house, which was every bit as expansive as the outside made it seem. Like Damien's desk at the college, the house was absolutely immaculate, with everything in its place. You'd never know that a bachelor lived there.

  “This place is a lot bigger than I would think someone can afford on a teacher's salary,” I noted, following him into the living room.

  “Well, it wasn't entirely bought on my salary, to be honest. I made a sizable amount of money when the stock market crashed. While other people were busy trying to get out, I was putting money in. After the stock market recovered, I cashed out about half of my investments and bought this place,” he told me.

  Definitely, a smart man.

  Damien sat me down and offered to get me a drink. While he went to retrieve it, I took some time to look around. His home décor was very contemporary, with lots of angles and neutral tones. There wasn't a whole lot of art, but the few paintings I did see were all abstract. The house didn't have a very lived in look, to be honest. More like something out of the pages of an interior design magazine.

  When he returned, I thanked him for the water he brought me. He sat a few feet away on the large sectional sofa, angling his legs to face me and pulling a piece of paper from his pocket, which I quickly realized was the questionnaire he had me fill out in agreement to taking his lessons.

  “I want to take some time to go over this first and get to know each other a little better before we begin. During this time, you can ask me any questions you might have,” he said. When I didn't respond, he continued, “You have pretty much no sexual experience, right?”

  “Mhm.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “Eighteen,” he repeated the word with distaste, his expression sulking into disappointment.

  “Is there something wrong?”

  “I thought you were older.”

  “How old did you think I was?” I cocked an eyebrow. It wasn't often I was mistaken for older than I actually was. Usually, people thought I was younger by a few years.

  “I thought you were at least in your early twenties.”

  “Oh. Well, is my age going to be a problem?”

  He sighed. “No. You're already here, so I'm not going to rescind my offer. Had I known how young you are though, I never would have considered it.”

  That stung a bit, and somehow felt like a rejection yet again. If he didn't feel comfortable doing this, then maybe it wasn't worth doing. I thought about telling him that, but I couldn't bear the thought of losing my second chance with him. My stupid mouth already screwed things up once. If he truly didn't want me, or this, then he would have to turn me away. Blatantly. I would not be leaving otherwise.

  “How old are you?” I asked.

&nb
sp; “I'm thirty-one. I'm sure you can understand why this makes me uncomfortable. If my age makes you uncomfortable, we don't have to do this,” he told me, sounding a bit too hopeful for my taste. There was no way I was going to let him go again though.

  “No. I'm already here. You're a great Art Appreciation teacher. I'm sure you'll be good at teaching . . . other things.”

  “Art Appreciation is an easy class to teach. Sex subjects are a bit more intense and intimate,” he said, still staring at my questionnaire as if he was afraid to look at me.

  I wasn't sure what to say, so I didn't say anything.

  He took a deep breath before continuing, “You seem like you're pretty open-minded towards learning just about anything. Your hard limits are very basic. Is there anything else you aren't willing to do?”

  “Hard limits?”

  “It's what they're called in the BDSM world. Basically, things you won't do no matter what. If I get into teaching you about BDSM, I'll cover the subject more thoroughly. That's a more advanced class though. It's not incredibly important for you to know about it now. We're going to take things very very slow, considering that you've never had sex before.”

  “Oh.”

  The way he sounded so put together sent a blush to my cheeks. It was as if talking about sex was just a normal everyday subject for him. He was Professor Damien Reed, no different than he was in the classroom, confident and professional. I, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck inside. Every time he said the word 'sex', the butterflies in my stomach would take flight, flapping around wildly. There were sensations in other places too, but I tried to ignore those, for the most part. Those yearnings would be taken care of soon enough, I hoped.