The Secret Virgin Read online

  “I know, right? Thank God it’s done with.” She excitedly tells me that she’s feeling more and more movement from the baby and we chat about that for a bit.

  Then she changes the subject. “So, um…have you seen Colton yet this weekend?”

  “Yes, I have,” I say, and I give her the gist about what happened with him in the park, mentioning how embarrassed I was in front of the good-looking stranger.

  I’m barely finished when she yells “Good fracking riddance!” right into my ear.

  “Ow,” I say. “You’re starting to sound like my mom,” and we both laugh. Mom is notoriously loud.

  “I don’t know how your parents will feel about another dog in the house, but I know they’ll be happy to hear you broke up with Colton. No one wanted to say anything while you were dating him, Bren, but none of us liked him. He talks shit about people; he likes the booze too much; he’s obviously got a lot of growing up to do. You’re better off without him.”

  “I know, I know. I…”

  “Yeah, well there’s something else…

  “But you’ll never guess what happened next,” I interrupt her excitedly to tell her all about my walk with Rob and our plans to get together.

  When I’m done, she says, totally deadpan: “He’s thirty-three? Um, don’t you think he’s a little old for you?”

  “Yeah, you’re hilarious ‘Manda,” I say, and she laughs.

  “It sounds like you’re really impressed with him,” she continues. “and he may be hot but he’s old enough to have some skeletons in his closet, you know? Maybe there’s a kid lurking in his past. More than one! Or, a crazy ex-wife! Or, he’s a secret agent on a mission to subvert the good citizens of Merlington, Ohio for the cause of, um, communism!”

  “Communism? That went out in the fifties, didn’t it?”

  “I dunno,” she says, giggling. “Nah. I’m sure he’s a fine and normal guy. Hey, I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. We’ll have to wait and see, that’s all. Now, listen. Just promise me one thing, will you?”

  “Sure,” I say. “What’s that?”

  “That you won’t sleep with him on the first date like you did with Colton.”

  Chapter Five

  Brenda

  “Whaaat? What the hell are you talking about?” I sputter.

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I’m sorry to say but Colton’s been telling tales about you behind your back! I only just heard about this or I would’ve told you, believe me.”

  “Amanda, I…”

  “Would you just listen? I know you never like to talk about the details of your sex life. That is totally cool and I respect that.”

  “But…I…”

  “No, it’s okay. I’d never ordinarily bring it up to you because you’re so private about it. But I’m just saying, maybe sleeping with him right off the bat is why he disrespected you like that.”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Obviously Colton told someone a whopper of a lie and it’s gotten around. Now I’m wondering if everyone else in my circle of friends thinks I slept with Colton on the first date too.

  “Wha…where did you hear that?” I don’t know whether to be outraged or what.

  “Don’t be mad at her, okay? I know it sounds gossipy but Marie told me. She says Colton told Brendon and Brendon told her when they were out a couple nights ago.” Brendon is Marie’s boyfriend. “If it makes you feel any better, she says she told Colton he was an ass for talking about you and they ended up leaving him at the bar by himself.”

  Well, good I guess, but no, it doesn’t make me feel much better. Slept with him on the first date? Sheesh. I barely let him touch me on any date, for crying out loud.

  “And,” she continues, “even though I didn’t sleep with Jason on the first date, maybe I shouldn’t have slept with him at all. Because I was never very attracted to him. I think he just reminded me of Nick! Point being, a good guy…a decent guy…won’t push. And he won’t disrespect a girl for waiting until they’ve had a few dates and gotten to know each other a little.”

  Oh my God! I’m getting a lecture about being chaste, of all things.

  “Okay Amanda, but…look. First off, Colton’s a damn liar. Secondly, I never understood why would good and decent men disrespect a girl for having sexual needs, same as they do,” I say, rather grumpily.

  I’m pissed at Colton but underneath that, I feel a kind of tired resignation. What else could I expect from an immature, spoiled guy who treats people like crap; and who’d take in and then give away a dog like it’s nothing? The truth doesn’t even matter to a guy like him. All he cares about is himself and how he looks to people

  But, my conscience is bugging me because…if I’m honest, when I started dating Colton, what did I care about? That he was hot; that he came from a rich family, and that he was going to college. Being educated is good, and important, yes. But the other stuff…how important is it, really? It’s kind of important, yes, but is it paramount? Does it count more than character and morals and all that?

  No. I don’t think it does.

  All this brings to mind another question, and that one is pricking me too:

  Why doesn’t my best friend in the whole world know the real and whole truth about me in the first place?

  Because I cared more about how I looked to her than how things really are. I cared more about my probably-imaginary reputation for being a cool, experienced chick who always knows everyone else’s secrets.

  I cared more about my ego than I did about our friendship, which is supposed to be based on love and trust.

  And my anger at Colton evaporates into shame for not trusting Amanda with the truth.

  Amanda’s saying something soothing but I don’t hear it. Suddenly, I just need to come clean with her.

  “Amanda…oh, dammit! I need to tell you something.”

  I go ahead and tell her that I am in fact still a virgin, that I have never had intercourse with anyone, including butt sex; never given or had oral; never given a hand-job. And then I tell her my stupid, delusional reasons for keeping the truth from her in the first place.

  When I’m finished, she’s mad at Colton too.

  “I could kill that asshole!” she fumes. “And you… you are such a dork face! Of course being a virgin is nothing to be ashamed of!” I hear her shifting around in her seat as she processes all this. “Shit,” she says. “I’m so sorry that I believed that gossip. And that I blamed you for his disrespect. I should have known better. I just assumed…because you’re, you know, you’re…you. Heh. You always seem to be so together, and experienced, and…”

  “Yeah, yeah. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I should’ve told you, I don’t know why I was so worried about it in the first place. It was just…dumb of me.”

  “Maybe. But it’s not like you ever outright lied about it…you never said you weren’t a virgin or made up stories about your sexual escapades or anything. Brenda, this is actually, y’know…kind of sweet.”

  Ugh! But, I guess she’s right.

  “I’m glad you told me, but it really is no one’s business. Well…except for whoever your ‘first’ ends up being. I think it’s important that he knows, at least.”

  “Yes.” We’re silent for a moment. I realize that whatever Colton said or did isn’t going to make any big dent in my life one way or another. “You know something? I was pissed at Colton when you told me this at first. But now…I don’t care.”

  After a moment, she says, “Yeah. It’s nothing to lose sleep over.”

  “Exactly. I have more important things to worry about. Like, finding a home for Diesel and being excited about meeting an interesting guy.”

  “That’s right, Bren. And, don’t forget to tell your parents about the dog.

  ““I will. I doubt they’ll let me keep him though,” I say, rather glumly.

  “Chin up, Bren. What you did, you did for a good reason. You’re a good shit,” she says, “and you
deserve to be happy.”

  “Aww,” I say. “Thanks. You know what? I love you, Tornado Farts.”

  “I know,” she says. “I love you too, Stank Butt. Now, I hate to rush off, but we’re heading out soon. We had a busy week, didn’t have time to shop for groceries.”

  “Okay. Say hi to Nick for me. Oh and, could you ask around at work if anyone wants a dog?”

  “No problem. Let me know what happens with Rob, okay?”

  “Okay. Oh! Hey, ‘Manda?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I got a joke for ya. How is virginity like a balloon?”

  She thinks for a minute, then: “I give up. How?”

  “One prick and it’s gone.”

  She groans. “Oh, ha ha. Did you make that one up?”

  “No, that was one of mom’s.”

  “Your mom told you that joke?”

  “Hellz, no! I overheard her telling someone else.”

  “Who knew she even knew the word “prick”? Heh. ‘Kay, Brenda, talk to you later.”

  After we hang up, I lay back on the bed, contemplating life’s ironies. I think of Colton making up bullshit about me and it irks me again, until I start wondering whether Colton has to make shit up because…could it be…that he himself is still a virgin?

  I sit up straight as it hits me that there’s probably a very good chance that it’s true! I let out a laugh. That’d be too funny.

  Diesel looks up at the sound of my laugh, then gets up, pads over to my bed and lays his big shaggy head on it.

  I rub and cradle his head, happy that he’s here and not locked up in a crate somewhere where he’s not wanted. He touches noses with Princess and then goes back to his makeshift bed. He stands there, looking at me, until I tell him to lie down. He does, and this time, he stretches out on his side and closes his eyes.

  Crate…that reminds me. There were two crates in the back of Rob’s Jeep. He must’ve had another dog at some point, and I wonder whether he would like another one. Probably not, since he didn’t offer to take Diesel off my hands at the park.

  Thinking about Rob makes me think about other things, though. Like, how his hands would feel on my body.

  I picture Rob’s icy-blue eyes looking into mine, and I feel that shivery feeling going down my spine again.

  And I can’t help but wonder what his body looks like, and how it would feel, naked, against mine.

  I lay back and let my mind think dirty thoughts about him, using my fingernails to gently flick my nipples through my shirt and bra. It doesn’t take long before they’re standing up, stiff and sensitive.

  Their tingling echoes all the way into my belly and into my warm core. I cup my mound with my hand and tap my middle finger against it, sending muffled pleasure through the seam of my pants.

  I pretend it’s Rob’s hand and notice how wet it’s making me. I think about the tiny lipstick vibrator that I keep in my bedside table, and my clit give a fast, hard throb.

  I unzip and push my jeans and panties off, then I slide a finger into my folds, finding my entrance wet and warm.

  I tap and caress my opening, encouraging it to cream even more. I never penetrate myself, no matter how much I want to, because I want it to be someone special who gives me that pleasure…even if it hurts a bit first.

  Visualizing Rob’s face, smiling down at me, I can almost feel his warm, muscled body holding mine down on the bed. I give him a thick, imaginary cock and I try to feel it pushing inside…imagining what it feels like…and my pussy makes a slow, ardent squeeze in response.

  Oh, God, I need to get laid!

  I use my juices to lube up my finger, then make circles on my sensitive bud, going faster and faster. My inner thighs tense and relax as the sparkles of pleasure begin to build.

  In my mind, Rob’s lips suck my nipples, making that dimple show up in one of his cheeks. Then, he works his way down my belly to my mound. My finger stands in for his mouth and my clit hardens almost painfully as my opening flutters and contracts. I moan softly, feeling that familiar need for release.

  I get my lipstick vibrator out of my bedside table and set it to the highest setting. Placing the buzzing toy against the side of my throbbing clit, I press and release rhythmically and the pleasure builds…once more…twice more…and ohhhh ohhhh I’m coming hard and fast. I moan quietly, my knees rising and my toes curling.

  After, I taste my juices on my finger. They taste fresh and mild. I wonder if Rob could be the guy who I could like enough to let him touch me, taste me, and yes, fuck me the way my body needs to be fucked.

  Half an hour later, I’m reading a book when I get a text notification.

  Rob: Thinking of you.

  If it were anyone else, I might make him wait for my reply, for fear of being seen as eager or pathetic. But somehow, I can’t see Rob thinking that way. And I don’t want to play those games with him.

  Quickly, I type a response.

  Me: Ditto :)

  Rob: Good. :) Am I interrupting anything?

  Me: Nope, just reading.

  Rob: Oh? You like to read?

  Me: Every chance I get.

  Rob: Awesome. Me too. Won’t keep you, I just wanted to ask you a question. Is tomorrow too soon for a first date?

  Me: LOL! I don’t think so…?

  Rob: If there are any rules against a first date the day after the first meeting, I’ve never heard of them.

  Me: Me neither. I thought you were busy?

  Rob: Change of plans. I’d invite you to my house but that’s really pushing it. Besides, I just moved in and haven’t unpacked yet.

  Me: Well, what do you like to do?

  Rob: Besides kiss you?

  Oh my. I can’t think of a snappy response, so I go with whatever springs to mind.

  Me: *blush*

  Rob: Oh, sorry. I thought you asked, what would I like to do.

  I wait to see if he’s finished. He’s not.

  Rob: I like walks in the park…oh yeah, you know that. How about dinner and talk? Get to know each other better?

  Me: Sounds good.

  Rob: Alright! I know the owner of a small restaurant in Easterville. Great food, quiet, we can talk there all night and he won’t expect us to keep buying food or booze.

  I start typing, then stop when his next message pops up.

  Rob: Unless you are a binge-eater or a drunk, in which case, you look pretty damn good for a drunken binge-eater.

  Me: Why, thank-you. I do like to binge on dill-pickle-flavored potato chips sometimes. You might as well know that now.

  Rob: I don’t think they serve dill-pickle-flavored potato chips at Ron’s Risorante. But I can double-check if you want.

  Me: LOL!

  Rob: :) Should I pick you up at your place or would you feel safer meeting me at the restaurant?

  As a joke, I type:

  Let’s meet here first. I’ll be waiting by the door, naked.

  Giggling like an idiot, I hover my thumb over the ‘back’ button to erase that and start over. But I guess my thumb’s muscle memory kicks in, because, without further ado, it moves upwards on the screen and hits ‘send’ instead.

  Chapter Six

  Rob

  Whoa…what? She’ll wait for me naked?

  At first, just for a second, I think I’ve completely misjudged her. I don’t know her, and just because I keep thinking about what that Colton kid said to her earlier about how she ‘doesn’t put out’ doesn’t mean that she doesn’t actually put out. People say crazy things when they’re upset, so who really knows what it meant.

  But then, this:

  Brenda: OMFG I hit send on that by mistake! I typed that as a joke to myself and idk how but my thumb hit send

  The lack of punctuation tells me to wait…and then, this:

  Brenda: …without meaning to. Shit! Shit! I’m not really like that, I swear!

  Aha! Laughing to myself, I consider my options, trying to be quick about it. I can tease her mercilessly, or just a little,
or let her off the hook entirely.

  I decide to mostly let her off the hook.

  Me: Not really like what? Not really naughty? Bummer!

  And I wait for just a second, then:

  Me: Nah, I’m kidding. I believe you sweetie, I doubt that you’d purposely text a strange man that you’ll meet him naked at the door.

  Brenda: Of course not! I should never have taken the chance to type that.

  I wait, enjoying myself.

  Brenda: It was truly just an impulse.

  I wait again, having a great time now.

  Brenda: I’m not the town bike, I swear! Someone kill me plz.

  Hah! Okay, I’m letting her off the hook.

  Me: LOL! No worries. It was cute.

  Brenda: Oh God I’m so embarrassed.

  I laugh.

  Me: Don’t be. Of course I knew you’re joking. I’m flattered. Any man would love the idea of having you waiting naked for him.

  No response. Not sure how she’s taking that, but I have nothing to lose, so:

  Me: Is it too much to set that as a goal for down the road, maybe?

  Brenda: LOL!

  Whew! I was about to ask her if I could call her instead of chatting by text, but I decide she’s had enough pressure. I text her that I’ll meet her at Ron’s Ristorante tomorrow night at seven o’clock. I give her the address and answer her question about their dress code.

  Then I tell her that I’ll call her when I’m leaving the house tomorrow and we say good-bye for the night.

  But I can’t stop thinking about her. Her ass, her legs in those jeans, those eyes, those red lips. That smile!

  Jesus!

  My dick gets hard and I adjust it, pulling on it almost viciously to try to make it behave.

  Of course, touching it in no way helps. I leave it alone and it slowly goes down as I putter around the house, trying to focus on getting some unpacking done.

  I hate unpacking almost as much as I hate packing. But I’ve been here more than a week and am tired of living out of cartons. I still have lots of boxes to go through. My mother gave me a shit-ton of stuff when I bought this house. Way too much! It’s overwhelming. I haven’t made a dent in it.