, trying to choose an outfit to wear. Each Christmas party, Thanksgiving dinner, Fourth of July barbecue and all the rest of festive days, every birthday, anniversary, baby shower and wedding reception that we have attended together as a married couple had been preceded by an inevitable tension, arguments and shouting matches. One or both of us deciding that we were not going, stomping around the house, throwing clothes and car keys against the wall, angry enough to be able to smack one another, although it never quite got to that point.

 

This was to be a Valentine’s Day party at Mike’s friend’s place, whom I never even met. One of their buddies from teenage years was flying in from New York and they were to meet for the first time in twenty years and “kick it”. I listened to endless stories of their escapades and how they were like brothers. I was sick of it already.

 

Besides, I had a sneaking suspicion that the only reason I was invited along was because Jahan was bringing his wife and I was probably to be a distraction for her, so that she wouldn’t be in danger of dying from boredom listening to their stories, undoubtedly minor occurrences blown out of proportion.

 

Even walking out the door, we argued. He didn’t like what I was wearing, there were comments about make up, he wanted me to put on glasses so that I could drive… By the time we agreed on a cab and were standing in front of his friend’s front door, we’ve been through a huge battle and were not speaking to each other.

 

The minute we entered the crowded apartment, I was hit by the realization of how Mike had felt when he attended Christmas parties at my job. He was never too eager to go, but did as a married couple does on the occasions like that. Whenever we arrived at the place of festivities I could literally count to ten and before I was through, he would hiss at me: “So, I’m a token nigger again”.

 

Of course that was not true. None of those parties were exclusively for people of one race, but I just happened to work in predominantly white office and though that did not bother him on other occasions, the insecurities must have set in when faced with a crowd that we were joining. By the time we were leaving however, he was pleasantly drunk and buddy-buddy with most of the people who attended.

 

As we walked into the apartment, I noticed that I was the only white woman there. I looked around carefully and with a sinking feeling realized I was the only white person. I knew a couple of guys, Mike’s friends, who never went beyond a nod and a grin to me, and I seriously doubted that by the time we left I would be any better of.

 

I turned around to poke my husband with the same comment he annoyed me with each time he found himself in the situation that I was in now, of course, appropriately calling myself “cracker”, and found him embracing his friends in a most annoying display of male bonding.

 

After polite introductions, I grabbed a drink and sat in a corner, looking out of the window, admiring the breathtaking view of Chicago skyline and trying to make myself as invisible as I could.

 

To Mike’s credit, I have to admit he passed by me a few times, lovingly caressing my hair or giving me a hug and asking if I was okay, suggesting I should mingle.

 

“No, I’m fine here.” I said with a smile as sweet as I could make it. I knew I was going to hear about it later on our way home, not wanting to socialize with his friends. “It’s beautiful here.” I said and wishfully looked out the window again.

 

“Yeah, it is.” Mike replied.   “Brenda and Jahan will be here soon.” He added and was gone.

 

I didn’t really look forward to meeting even more new people. I have become weary of funny looks directed towards us when we turned up in public together. Our families did not make it any easier on us and despite our marriage having lasted for seven years I always suspected that they were expecting us to break up any day now. Twenty-first century and a big city did nothing for the small-mindedness and we both tried our best to ignore it, but sometimes it was just too insulting.  

 

A couple of hours later, my jaw started hurting from yawning, as I felt I was too tired to concentrate on anything but staying awake. I drank more than usual and satisfyingly noticed that I had managed to empty most of the Bailey’s bottle by myself.

 

Every few minutes the doorbell rang and more people that I didn’t know came, stuffing the already overcrowded apartment even more. I got a few nods from men and women who walked past me, some pausing in front of the window that I had been standing by, looking out and admiring the view.

 

A roar of yelling jerked me out of my thoughts in which I had escaped to keep myself amused and I realized that the long awaited friend had finally arrived. I couldn’t be bothered to join in the festivities of his arrival, continuously staring out the window, wishing I were anywhere but here.

 

  I felt Mike’s hand on my shoulder and was turned around against my will, still managing to smile and put on a façade of interest. Jahan was a handsome, tall guy with carefully maintained dreads, reaching to his mid back. He wore designer clothes and if I was to meet him on the street, I would probably do a double take.

 

This time however, my eyes were only for a woman standing next to him. Her height was the first that I had noticed, having gotten used to the fact that most women were shorter than me. She was an attractive brunette with lively, hazel eyes and nice, sporty body. Dressed in plain jeans and denim shirt, she certainly didn’t match her husband or most of the people in the room, who were all dressed as if going to a Christmas party, including me.

 

I shook Jahan’s hand but my eyes remained on the woman. She smiled at me and offered her own, carefully manicured hand in greeting. “I’m Brenda.” She said simply and I stuttered my name as if it wasn’t my own.

 

She had straight, shoulder length hair with a reddish glow. She was not a beauty, but I cannot recall seeing a more interesting person than her in a long time. She looked at our husbands, who were now hugging and tapping each other on their backs, laughing and throwing loving insults at one another, talking about whose dreads looked more genuine and whose belly was bigger.

 

Brenda rolled her eyes and grabbed me under the arm. “Come, let’s go and find a drink. I’ve had a hard evening already.” She said and I smiled, she must have read my mind.

 

We sat on the couch, admiring the view and chitchatting, which to my great amazement seemed to come easily, even though this was the first time we have met. I kept looking at her face, finding it more and more fascinating. Her lips were full and her eyes big and round. She had a habit of tucking her hair behind her ears, showing off small ears, bejeweled with delicate, antique looking jade earrings. I liked everything about her, even the way she scratched her head when confronted with a question that needed a careful thought before answering.

 

We discovered mutual love for books, she works for a New York publishing house, which I did some translations for, and she suggested that we have probably met before, just don’t remember each other.

 

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I would have remembered you. You’re not the kind of person one forgets easily.”

 

She looked at me, her face serious, her eyes smiling. I cursed myself quietly for being so indiscreet. Before I got married, I fooled around with a couple of women, nothing serious, but I still thought about them sometimes. Brenda would certainly be a kind of a woman I would want to mess around with. Providing neither of us was married. I knew Mike wouldn’t stand for it, and although I didn’t know Jahan, I suspected he was the same.

 

Did I just hit on my husband’s friend’s wife? Of course I did. Did she notice? By the looks of it, she did. And from what I could see, she didn’t mind. I sighed in relief.

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Nikkie.” She said and I nodded. “So, what’s your real name?” she asked and I cringed. I never liked to be called by my given name, which was usually used by my parents when I did something wrong.

 

“Nicola.” I said. “But, please don’t call me that.”

 

We giggled as if sharing a secret and she grabbed my hand, squeezing it gently, sending shivers up and down my spine. I liked her more by the minute, and although I couldn’t swear to it, I believed she liked me to. Not just as a conversationalist either.

 

It has been a long time since I’ve been with anyone but my husband and I feared I had lost my touch. I was going to simply let it be. See what happens, as one might say.

 

I was disappointed to see Mike approaching, fearing that the night had ended before I had enough time to talk to Brenda more. I loved chatting with her. She was funny and smart, with a sense of humor just as dry as mine, and goofiness much like my own. I had to admit that going home might have been a good idea, though. I had gotten fairly drunk.

 

“Come on,” said Mike, taking my hand. “We’re all going to Excalibur.” My heart jumped. More time with Brenda.

 

“Great!” I said and looked at her. She had walked away, talking to her husband. In the confusion of about sixty people leaving the apartment, I had lost the sight of Brenda, which was quite disappointing. Despite the fact that we were in the center of downtown, getting cabs for everybody would take a while and I feared she would have found a different amusement by the time I made it to the club.

 

We were lucky to be one of the first ones out of the building and managed to flag down the first cab passing by. We were about to enter it when Brenda came running. “Wait, wait!” she yelled and waved her arms. “Mike, go with Jahan. He’s got a cab, too. I’ll go with Nikkie.”

 

Mike was quite happy to join his old friend. I was certain there were many things they wanted to discuss out of their wives’ earshot. I was exhilarated.

 

I entered the cab first, Brenda following. I turned around and saw that Mike and Jahan caught the cab behind us. We pulled off and looked at Brenda smiling. I was happy to notice that she was smiling back at me.

 

“Where to, ladies?” asked the cabbie.

 

“Excalibur!” said Brenda. “And please, don’t take the shortest way.”

 

The guy gave us a suspicious look in the mirror.

 

“Seriously,” nodded Brenda into the mirror. “Lose your way and I’ll tip you good.”

 

The cab driver shrugged his shoulders and averted his gaze onto the street in front of him. I’m sure he had seen his fair share of weirdoes and odd requests.

 

We turned the corner and I felt Brenda’s hand on my thigh. “I like those boots.” She said. Those were the same boots that Mike had been giving me grief over earlier in the evening.

 

“You look like a hooker.” He said, measuring me with his eyes, the boots reaching over the knees and almost touching the hem of the mini dress I was wearing.

 

“Yeah,” I replied. “But I’m your hooker!” I smiled back and he walked away, disgusted.

 

I kept looking at Brenda’s hand on my thigh; her fingers caressing me, touching the top of the boots and the bottom of the short dress. I found her staring into my eyes. “If I’m wrong, please tell me now.” she whispered. I swallowed hard and shook my head.

 

Brenda’s fingers found their way up my thigh and she yelped in surprise. “Oh, you little tart!” she said when she touched the stocking suspenders realizing I was wearing garter belt.

 

“Always prepared,” I whispered hoarsely, grateful to my persistence in ignoring Mike’s protests. He had called me the same, but with different words and in a harsh tone of voice. The meaning was quite different.

 

“I want to kiss you,” I continued and closed my eyes. All I wanted was to feel her soft lips on mine.

 

“Later.” She whispered in reply. “The guys’ cab is behind us. We have to sit still.”

 

I nodded and gasped when I felt her fingers press against my panties. I opened my eyes and found the cabbie staring in the mirror, obviously aware of what was going on in the back of his vehicle. I hoped he wouldn’t crash and opened my legs, allowing Brenda’s fingers to slip under the edge of my panties, finding their way between my pussy lips and straight onto my clitty. Her touch felt like an electric shock making me shiver with pleasure.

 

“Scoot down some.” She said and I obeyed. We both slid on the seat, our heads still visible from the vehicle behind us, our hands free to roam.

 

Brenda pressed her fingers on my clitty and in circling motions made me wet within seconds. She had the Midas touch and within a couple of minutes, I was ready to cum. To my great disappointment her hand left my clitty, only to slide down my pussy and I could feel her shoving her long fingers deep inside of me.

 

I looked at her and found her grinning. “Not yet, Nik.” She whispered. “Not yet.”

 

The cab swayed dangerously and we realized that the cabbie was watching us more than the road ahead. Brenda giggled and I closed my eyes in embarrassment. I was certain this was not the first time he had seen anything like that in the back seat of his taxi, but it was the first time I had ever done heavy petting in the presence of a third party. I had to admit that it was a huge turn on, though.

 

“Fuck, Brenda, I lost it now.” I said out loud when I realized that the moment had passed and I wasn’t going to cum. A second later I felt her fingers slipping out of me and returning to the sensitive bud they had so carefully massaged a little while ago, resuming the teasing, bringing me on the verge of orgasm, only to stop at the last moment and slip inside me again.

 

A brutal sound of a car horn behind us startled all three of us, and I realized our cab was standing in front of the green light.

 

“What are you looking at?” I snapped at the cabbie. He snickered and pulled off. I spread my legs even more, chancing a cramp but not caring. Brenda had made me feel really good, if only she would finish what she had started.

 

To my great disappointment I realized we were just around the corner from the club that we were heading to. “Here we are.” I said and pulled Brenda’s hand out of my panties, pushing it away from me. I was pissed.

 

I didn’t want to see how much she paid the cabbie. He had a free show, that must have counted for something, but I didn’t say anything. When I stepped out of the car, Mike and Jahan were already waiting for us.

 

“Why didn’t you tell him where to go?” asked Mike, obviously annoyed. “He took you for a ride.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” I said, my anger rising. I felt as if I had cotton wool stuffed in my panties, my pussy was swollen and twitching. I needed a drink.

 

As soon as we entered the club the guys headed straight for the first bar they saw. I tried to follow, but was stopped by Brenda grabbing onto my arm. “Get some beer for us, too.” She yelled at Jahan, failing to make herself heard. She just waved at him and pulled me after her.

 

“Come on, Nik.” She half whispered, half yelled in my ear and before I knew, I was dragged up the stairs to the second floor, following her reluctantly. When we reached the top of the stairs, she pointed towards the bathrooms and continued to drag me after her.

 

As the door of the bathrooms slammed behind us, drowning the impossible noise of music and people shouting somewhat, another noise of giggling and girlie chitchatting hit us. The room was half-full; there were still a couple of stalls empty. If there was a line, I don’t think we could have done what followed.

 

Without a word Brenda grabbed my hand and led me to the very last stall by the wall. I saw some raised eyebrows and gazes following us, some amused, some disgusted. Again, I could have cared less. I’m sure most of the chicks in the bathrooms have seen the like before.

 

We squeezed into the stall and I finally turned to her, nervous and expectant. “Brenda, we really shouldn’t…”

 

Before I managed to utter another word, she hugged me and finally I felt her soft lips on mine. She kissed me gently; sliding her tongue inside my mouth, at the same time I felt my dress being lifted and her fingers slipping inside my panties. She found the spot that had already had plenty of attention inside the cab and started rubbing it, never breaking her kiss.

 

I moved my pelvis against her hand, vaguely hearing the comments and giggles from the outside. I can never manage to have sex quietly, but this time around I have achieved just that.   I’m sure Brenda felt and heard my heavy breath against her ear, but the chicks on the other side of the door wouldn’t.

 

I was so close to cumming again and if she didn’t realize that by the way my body reacted, she must have felt my strong squeeze on her arm. She kept her fingers on me, at the same time slipping down and to my great surprise kneeling. She pushed the hem of my dress into my hand and pulled down my panties. She bumped my booted feet apart and squeezed in between.

 

I almost screamed when I felt her tongue replace the fingers. She wasn’t messing around either. Her lips immediately sucked onto my clitty, pulling and massaging it in a steady rhythm, which slowly kept intensifying. I could feel the long awaited orgasm approaching and I gathered all my strength to remain standing up and not let out a yelp of pleasure, but rather just a loud gasp. I was beyond worrying what the women present in the same room were thinking, they certainly knew what was going on by now.

 

I was still shivering when Brenda got off her knees, stood up and kissed me, thrusting her tongue deep inside my mouth, letting me taste my own juices on her lips. At the same time, she was unzipping her jeans and I noticed that her hands were trembling. What she had done to me had fired her up and she whispered in my ear: “Just touch me, Nik.”

 

She sat on the toilette as if she was about to pee and this time I knelt in front of her, reaching between her legs. I wanted to rub her clitty just as she had rubbed mine, but her hand pushed my fingers inside of her wet pussy, helping me find the most sensitive spot just a couple of inches from the entrance.  

 

“Push on it, Nik.” She gasped. “I’m almost there.”

 

I could feel her shivering as she pulled my face towards hers and kissed me hard. At first I thought she had peed on my hand. It had taken me a few seconds to realize that she gushed and I regretted I had not seen it properly. I’ve never been a witness to a woman ejaculating and I could never do it, no matter how I tried.

 

We froze in a moment; Brenda sitting on the toilette with her legs spread and I kneeling in front of her, our lips touching, our noses rubbing against each other.

 

“We’d better go back.” I whispered and she closed her eyes, nodding.

 

Brenda stood up, dressed herself and helping me up, too.

 

“I want to see you again, Nikkie.” She said and my heart jumped. “Jahan is leaving tomorrow and I’m staying for a couple of days. I’m at the Drake Hotel.”

 

We embraced and I didn’t feel like going back out, but knew we had to. We’ve already spent more than enough time away from the guys.

 

Just as I turned around to open the door she grabbed my arm. “Yeah?” she asked, caressing my face. “Will you see me again?”

 

“Of course.” I said, excited and a little worried. I wanted to be with this woman no matter the danger or consequences.

 

We ignored the mocking looks of the girls that we passed by. I didn’t care what anybody thought. Brenda opened the door of the bathroom and we stepped into the club, instantly bombarded by the rhythm of music and raised voices of the clubbers.

 

We joined the guys at the small table by the bar and as I sat down next to Mike he put his arm around my shoulders. I noticed Jahan did the same. I also noticed Brenda’s long and meaningful look, holding my gaze steadily.

 

I have just come closer to the love at first sight than ever before.  

stify">The smell of her hair and skin still lingered all around me; the taste of her pussy remained on my lips.   I knew that I did her wrong though, forgetting myself like that, hurting her beyond expectations.   She was, after all just a young girl with hardly any experience.   Her screams still pierced my head as if I was listening to them all over again.

 

Naïve or not, however, her body was that of a grown woman.   Although her thoughts and words were childish, her actions were everything but.   She said ‘no’, but at the same time she returned my kisses.   Her body responded to mine.   And even when she was hurting most, she thrust back towards me, making me completely lose control and do what I wanted to do so bad, knowing I should not have.

 

I had my coachman drive through dark streets of Hamburg, aimlessly wandering in despair, the wheels hitting the paved ground, throwing me this way and that, the thick cushions unable to soften the rough blows, making my head throb in an approaching migraine.

 

My toe, which I had so clumsily stubbed on a stair in the cellar was now pulsating with burning pain, which seemed to travel through my body straight into my already achy head.   Even my nose, which Lottie elbowed accidentally, seemed to become another center of returning pain.

 

I thought about the delicious meal Lottie had prepared for my daughter and myself; I recalled the minutes when we lay in bed, looking at the book, cuddling like a couple of gentle lovers.   Each memory that would make me smile, was inevitably crushed by the thought of the pain that I had caused her afterwards, the memory of it punching me in the stomach, knotting it into a burning ball, making my uneasiness grow.   Now, the passion and lust somewhat satisfied, my mind gave way to worry and outright alarm.   I have had bad reputation since a young man in college. I just hoped that Lottie was too embarrassed to do tell anybody about the goings on that took place in Johann’s house.   I could have kicked myself for being foolish enough to leave the telltale book with her.   Were she to tell on me, the book might have been evidence, persuading people of her truthfulness.

 

On the other hand, and I am ashamed to admit I had thoughts like that, but knowing that Herminna and Johann were oblivious to Lottie’s relationship with the neighbor’s stable boy Sebastian, all I had to do was to point out that I had caught them in the act, in the library no less, and all her validity would evaporate. Given half a chance, my friend would believe my word sooner than that of any servant, even his own.

 

As I was leaving Johann’s house that evening I told myself I would be back.   Now, however, my mind somewhat able to function beyond the desire for basic satisfaction, I was not so sure any longer.

 

I closed my eyes, unable to rest my head anywhere because of the bumpy ride. All of a sudden, the face of my brothers’ wet nurse and nanny Ursula appeared in my mind. Surprised at the realization of her link to Lottie hit me hard.

 

Of course! That was why I have always found Lottie so beautiful and appealing. Lottie was a mirror image of Ursula.   Long blond hair, big sky blue eyes and a curvaceous body could have made them be sisters, so similar were they.   And yet, I had not put two and two together until now. I have not thought of Ursula in a while.

 

For a very long time, I was the only child. Only when I was twelve years old did my mother became pregnant again, having lost all hope for a big family that was my parents’ greatest wish. Alfie was the first to inherit my baby crib and my mother was delighted, while my father was bursting with pride. Dimitri followed him in less than a year and when my mother found herself pregnant yet again before Dimitri’s first birthday, she was physically and mentally exhausted. When the twins were born, my father had decided to hire a wet nurse to share the burden of nursing the newborn boys and help raise the rest. And so Ursula entered our household and my world.  

 

Many a times my mother’s petite and fragile body could not produce enough milk for either of the boys and Ursula would end up feeding Wilhelm and Kurt both. I believe she was more of a mother to all four toddlers than our real mother had ever been.

 

Ursula was a woman who came to Hamburg some years ago from the Austrian country side, where she grew up on a farm, not shying from heavy work, enduring the poverty and desperation patiently until she finally decided to leave home and look for work in a big city, as so many girls and women did before her.   She became wet nurse and nanny in a household of my father’s very good friend and when his children were big enough that she didn’t have to wipe their noses and feed their mouths at any given moment, we were lucky enough to have her accept the harsh work in our home.

 

And harsh work it most certainly was. With four boys under the age of three and a budding teenager, who tried to attract attention wherever he could, she had her hands full all the time.   My mother was very grateful to let her take charge in childcare and to this day, my memories of Ursula are more vivid and I must say dearer than those of our own mother.

 

I remember how I would sometimes peer through the nursery door that was left ajar, watching Ursula sitting in a big wicker chair, feeding the babies, exposing her breasts shamelessly to my prying eyes.   At that time, I was foolishly certain that she was completely unaware of my spying.

 

When I was fifteen, my grandfather, my father’s father had become gravely ill and the physicians were not holding much hope of his recovery.   Both of my parents were devastated as he was a good man, generous and kind to everybody in his family, loving each one of us selflessly as if we were his own children.   My mother and father had spent almost three months practically living at my grandfather’s bedside, reading his favorite books out loud, chatting with him when he was in a state of lucidity and generally trying to ease his pains and sadness that came from awareness that his days on Earth were numbered.

 

Us children were often left alone at home with Ursula, and besides the fear of my grandfather’s inevitable oncoming passing, I was also bored out of my wits.   I had no one to play with as my brothers were too young and I was not allowed to leave the household when my parents were not present.   I spent my days reading and practicing piano, roaming around in the big garden at the back of the house, up to any mischief that a fifteen year-old was inclined to.

 

In those days I spied on Ursula more than ever.   Peeping through the door when she was feeding the twins became almost a ritual.   I knew that each night, after she had put the boys to bed and bid me goodnight, she would take a long bath in the utility room, always leaving the door wide open in case one of the children would wake up and cry out in fear.   She would be out of the bath in a split second, wrapping herself in a big sheet and rushing up the stairs to see to whoever was in distress, her long hair wildly cascading down her back, her big body climbing the stairs with surprising speed.

 

I would sometimes creep downstairs, squat behind the railing and watch Ursula take a bath, lazily lifting her meaty arms in the air while she poured cups of water over her back. Of course, I was aware of my desire at the time, after all I was a young man, as my grandfather had said on many occasions. I would watch Ursula for a few minutes and then return to the safety of my bedroom, where I would crawl under in the bed and masturbate with my eyes shut tight, thinking of her heavy breasts, wishing that it were my lips on the big brown nipples that she so willingly offered to the babies every day.

 

In the months when my parents were out of the house almost constantly, I became quite obsessed with Ursula.   I would follow her like a puppy, sometimes even helping her with caring for my brothers.   And each evening, I would satisfy myself with a quick look at her glorious body and afterwards a clumsy satisfaction of my budding sexuality in the safety of my own room.  

 

One of those nights was especially hot, humidity promising the coolness, which the oncoming rain would bring, making me unable to go to sleep.   As always, Ursula had put the boys to sleep and had taken her bath.   It must have been a couple of hours later that I found myself lying in my bed, still wide-awake.   How I had gathered the courage to get up and walk over to Ursula’s room, I will never know.   The door was wide open, again in anticipation of any of the little ones awaking.

 

I carefully walked inside the dark room, which was slightly illuminated by the brightness of the gas lamp on the main street. I crept all the way to the bed and looked at Ursula’s sleeping face. She never looked more beautiful than at that moment. Serenity and peacefulness which she lacked living in our house were making her face appear almost angelic.

 

I reached out and gently touched her hair, which was covering her bare shoulder.   I could feel my loins stirring and all I wanted to do was to reach between my legs and masturbate right there, looking at that beautiful face, fondling her soft hair.   Of course I did no such thing! The fear of being discovered was greater than the burning desire that was literally hurting my chest.

 

All of a sudden she stirred and to my horror opened her eyes.   I almost screamed in shock, but was afraid of awakening the boys, so I just stood there like a dummy staring at Ursula, while for a few moments she stared at me with disbelief.

 

Finally, she smiled in recognition and raised herself on the elbow.

 

“What’s the matter?” she whispered and all I could do was shake my head.

 

“Can’t sleep, sweetheart?” she asked and this time I nodded. “Are you thirsty? Hungry?” I was neither.

 

To my great amazement, she threw the sheet which she was using as a cover off her body and patted the space in front of her. “Come,” she said. “Let’s try and go to sleep together.”

 

At the time, I didn’t see anything wrong with me crawling inside her bed, pushing my back against her big breasts and belly, clad in a white cotton nightgown, sharing the cover sheet and being cradled in a huge bear hug.   I could smell her hair; it gave off an intoxicating smell of herbs and I reached over my shoulder to caress it gently.

 

“You’ve beautiful hair, Ursi,” I said lovingly and she laughed hoarsely.

 

“You are yet to give your father a headache, master Konrad.”   She said and how right she was. “Now, go to sleep.”

 

Of course sleep would not come for me. I was in the arms of a beautiful woman whose body was so familiar to me from the glances that I stole when I thought she was not aware of my presence.   Her breathing slowed down within a few minutes, soon turning to soft snoring.   I didn’t mind, it was quite amusing.

 

The stirring in my pants that I felt while looking at her before, had now turned into an almost painful hard on and I was afraid that she would awaken and somehow know what was happening, even though that part of my body was turned away from her.

 

I lay perfectly still for what seemed like a very long time.   Eventually the muscles in my limbs started aching from immobility and as I moved to stretch my legs, Ursula gave out a loud snore and squeezed my teenage body closer to hers.   I was pinned under her weight now and getting desperate. My cock throbbed in the rhythm with my heartbeat and all I wanted to do was to relieve the pressure, bringing myself to a blissful satisfaction. Again, I was too afraid to do any such thing.   Instead, I carefully wiggled myself out of Ursula’s grip and crept out of the room.

 

My desire for the voluptuous beauty was so great that I didn’t make it to my room. As I stepped out of into the corridor, I turned the corner and leaned on the wall, slipping my hand inside my pajama bottoms, jerking off furiously, occasionally poking my head around the door frame and stealing a look at the sleeping woman.   How I wished I could have remained in bed with her.   How I wished her hand were where mine had been at that very moment.

 

It had taken but a few moments and I shivered, my cock spitting out the juice, staining my pajamas.   I must have moaned louder than I was aware for all of a sudden I heard Ursula calling out of her bed.

 

“Konrad?” she half whispered, half yelled. “Konrad, are you okay?”

 

I didn’t say anything, just simply ran to my room and quietly closed the door. I was excited beyond belief, at the same time deep shame flooded over me and I began dreading the moment when I was to lay my eyes on her in the morning.

 

It was a very unpleasant time that I spent in my room that night.   Being young and charged with immense sexual energy, I masturbated two more times before the exhaustion took hold of me and I finally closed my eyes, drifting off into an uneasy sleep, just as the first sun rays poked through the shades that were covering the windows in my room.

 

I slept very late that day and to my great relief my parents have not returned home at all until the next morning.   They have sent a messenger with a note instructing Ursula on certain things, as they would not be returning until at least tomorrow. Grandfather’s time was running out and as sad as that had made me, I was strangely excited, too.

 

I avoided Ursula as much as I could that day. I slipped out into the garden and spent most of the afternoon reading on a bench that was hidden from view behind the rhododendron bushes.   She didn’t bother me, pretending as if I was not even there.

 

The evening came and when the darkness started settling over Hamburg I finally gathered enough courage to enter the house.   Ursula was playing with the boys in the den, and simply smiled at me when I entered.  

 

“Your dinner is in the kitchen, Konrad.   You must be starving!” she said and I nodded. I was embarrassed by the thought of what I had done the night before. As I was turning to head towards the kitchen, I caught her eyes and she gave me a long and meaningful look.   Not so much amused or mocking, but rather calculating, as if she was trying to see deep inside my thoughts, weighing something that I was not even aware of.

 

When she had put the boys to bed and I was certain she was taking her bath, I did not dare to creep down the stairs to watch her. I became convinced that she must have known I had been there many a time before. She was a caretaker of four small children, which probably sharpened her senses and to believe she was not aware of what was going on would be absurd.   Even at the tender age of fifteen I knew that to believe otherwise would be simply foolish. Besides, I had a whole day in the garden by myself to think and ponder on what had happened the night before, whether she was really aware of it or whether it was just my paranoia that was driving me mad with terror.

 

For a couple of days things were calm in the household.   I managed to restrain myself from spying on Ursula and as hard as it was, I promised to God I would never do it again.   I felt that it was the wrong thing to do.   Besides, she was very old, at least in my eyes, I believe I heard my mother mention once that she was twenty six.

 

It was my brother Alfie’s third birthday that weekend and my parents decided to celebrate it, despite their heartbreak over my grandfather’s poor health. Relatives and friends filled the house that Sunday afternoon and even though the merriment was subdued, there was a lot of food to be eaten and even more wine to be drank.

 

My father proudly paraded me from one small group of people to the next at the party, chatting with friends, letting the women pinch and kiss my cheeks, which inevitably left me embarrassed and with some women downright disgusted.

 

The party did not last long, however, as my parents had to return to my grandfather’s side and it was in the early evening that the last of the guests had left and my mother kissed all of us children goodbye and hand in hand with my father left the house for the night.

 

Ursula was preoccupied with the boys as was normal and did not have time to clean up all the plates and glasses from the living room where the party had been.   My father had allowed me a couple of sips of his wine that afternoon and I rather liked the taste.   As I was wondering through the house, listening to the children’s laughter and Ursula’s baby talk that was audible from the upper floor, I wandered back into the living room and found a few glasses that were half empty.   Very foolishly I bottomed up three or four and by the time Ursula returned downstairs I was pleasantly tipsy.

 

She walked into the room and her eyes fell on me, immediately growing wide in alarm.   My face must have been gleaming from the effects of alcohol.

 

“Konrad!” she exclaimed louder than she meant to.   The boys were not completely asleep yet and one of them started crying, shortly to be joined by one or two more.   Ursula rolled her eyes in frustration.

 

“Do not touch anything else in this room, do you hear?” she yelled again.   I smiled with mischief in mind and stole a glance at the table, where a number of glasses still filled with wine sat.

 

“Right!” she said and furiously stepped towards me. “Bed for you, young man!” she dragged me out of the room and up the stairs, while I giggled wildly as the whole scene seemed beyond bizarre.

 

She pushed me inside my bedroom and sat me down on the bed. “Behave, master Konrad!” she said threateningly and stormed out to see to the crying that was slowly subsiding, closing the door behind her.

 

I sighed deeply as I felt my stomach beginning to knot up in discomfort.   I have not eaten much that particular day, despite all the food displayed.   After all, I was quite worried about my grandfather and seeing my parents’ concern clearly visible on their faces, made me even sadder.

 

With my legs still firmly on the floor, I let my body flop back onto the bed, only to shoot back up again as my whole world spun wildly the moment my head hit the softness of the cover.

 

Fast movement made my stomach turn and I felt as if I was going to be sick at any moment.   I had enough time to slide to the floor, crawl around the bed on my hands and knees, and pull the chamber pot from underneath.   I was violently sick and the more I threw up, the sicker I felt.   My entire body was spasming and my stomach was burning with the acid that was rebelling against my foolish act of drinking.

 

Exhausted by the throwing up, I sat on the floor, leaning against the bed, crying because I felt so bad, feeling more than stupid.   Finally, the crying of my brothers silenced, the door to my room opened and Ursula came rushing to me.

 

“Oh, poor baby!” she whispered, managing to calm me down a bit, as I was certain that she would storm in the same way she stormed out and started yelling again.   She knelt beside me and ran her fingers through my hair. “See? Not good this drinking business, is it?”

 

I simply nodded, ready to burst into tears again.

 

“There, there,” she said and helped me up. “You should be able to lay down now and I’ll go and warm up some chicken broth for you.   You are more sick than you are drunk, thank God. You drank too fast and now you’re paying a price. It will settle your stomach, you’ll see.”

 

I don’t know how long she was gone, for I had drifted off into a soundless sleep, but when she returned, darkness outside the window had enveloped the city. I woke with the first sound of her shuffling feet and sat up.   The dry taste in my mouth and burning sensation in the throat reminded me of the laborious inconvenience that my body had undergone probably less than an hour before.

 

“Here,” she said, carrying a bowl of steaming soup in her hands.   She sat next to me on the bed and started feeding me, carefully blowing cool each spoonful before gently pushing it inside my mouth.

 

She was right, I did feel better instantly.   I could not finish the whole bowl, but the little that I had, seemed to have a calming and energizing effect.

 

“I am very sorry,” I apologized with sincerity.

 

“I know,” Ursula nodded.   “This is very hard on you. Your grandfather on his deathbed and your brothers being so young.”

 

I was ready to cry again, but I swallowed my tears. The feeling of sadness evaporated when my eyes landed on her chest. Her breasts were tightly squeezed into the torso part of the dress she was wearing. They were bursting out of the fabric, and all I could think about was what it would feel like to touch them.

 

Ursula sat on the bed and continued talking with no particular topic in mind. If she did have a topic that she was discussing with me that evening I wouldn’t know. All my thoughts went out the window and my entire being was concentrated on the soft whiteness of her skin.

 

“Come on,” she said finally and nudged me in the ribs.   “I got a bath ready for you.   It’ll draw out the poison you have drank today.”

 

For a moment I froze. A bath! Was I happy or was I terrified? I didn’t know exactly. A place of my sin, I thought.   How many times have I sat on the stairs, watching her bathe with care?   I lost the count already.   Too many times in the eyes of God, I was certain.   My mother had always been telling me that God was looking upon me and counted my sins.   Funny how I always remembered those words only after I had spied on Ursula and then masturbated.   The minute the relief came, the thought of God just witnessing my sin entered my mind.

 

I was certain God had carefully noted my sin of drinking that afternoon, as well as my lustful thoughts of Ursula.   I was a little more than a child, with sexual experiences next to none, save for my own pleasuring exercises almost every night.   However, my father did talk to me at length about being proper, respecting the ladies, not cursing and such.   So, of course I knew I had sinned more than once that afternoon alone.

 

Oh, sod God and sinning!   At this moment, I was going to relax in the nice hot bath and everything would be all right in the morning.

 

I should have known that Ursula did not miss my lustful glances!   I should have known that she would not let me get away with it!   However, I didn’t know any better, I was only fifteen. Young, foolish and horny.

 

Ursula helped me up and led me down out of my room, to the stairs and squeezed my forearm in a firm grip, as I was still slightly unsteady on my feet.

 

We finally staggered to the utility room and I noticed that the bath was full with clean water almost to the brim. Not having to reuse the dirty water after my parents or my brothers, which was a custom, was a relief. Come to think of it, I am certain my mother would greatly disapprove of a servant taking luxurious baths every evening, but at the moment, my mind could not work out anything more complicated than a simple task of putting one foot in front of the other. I stood next to the bathtub for a moment, awkwardly glancing toward Ursula.

 

“Well?” she asked, busying herself with towels.   “Are you taking a bath or not?”

 

For one crazy moment I almost decided I should step inside the tub dressed as I was.

 

As I did not make a move, Ursula paused and turned around. “Are you embarrassed?” she asked and croaked a hearty laughter. “You silly boy!” she exclaimed.   “I have seen more naked boys and girls than I ever wanted to see!   Now take your clothes off and get in the tub before you make me really annoyed.”   She commanded and to my great relief walked out of the utility room and towards the kitchen, shaking her head in disbelief and softly murmuring to herself.

 

I stripped my clothes off in two seconds flat, throwing them in a heap on the floor, entering the tub and trying hard not to mind the water that was slightly too hot for a quick descent.   As soon as I sat down, I could feel the sweat beads gathering on my forehead.

 

She was right; the bath was making me feel better already, just as the soup did.   She certainly knew her business well.

 

I reached towards the high stool next to the tub, grabbing the small wash towel and a bar of soap that were carefully arranged for my use.   As soon as I started soaping the towel, however, Ursula returned and to my great embarrassment knelt next to the tub.

 

“Let me.” she said with an air of authority that allowed no nonsense protestations. She took the towel and the bar of soap out of my hands and proceeded soaping my arms, neck and chest, rubbing them with the cloth, then repeating the entire thing two more times. She pushed my head under the water for a couple of seconds and when I came back up for air, rather bewildered, she soaped my hair and washed that, too.

 

Then came the part, which I had hoped would not come, but knew was inevitable.

 

“Stand up,” she commanded.   I remained sitting and observing her carefully.   She would not really make me do that!

 

“Stand up, boy!” she became impatient.   “I don’t have all night, I’ve still to clean the living room and I am exhausted.”   I remained still.   “Please, Konrad?   Please?”

 

I have often found that when most embarrassed I tended to try covering it by some remark or a piece of information that I ought to take the observer’s attention off my person.   And usually I was quite unsuccessful.    In fact, I am convinced that most times I would only make a bigger fool out of myself.   This time it was no different.

 

Why I thought about my cousin at that particular moment I could not say for certain, but I believe it had to do with my being aroused and knowing that kind of state in people was inevitably connected to the babies.  

 

“I know how babies are made.” I said proudly, looking square in Ursula’s sky blue eyes.

 

“I beg your pardon?” she said, not quite sure whether I was trying to pull her leg or simply being insolent.

 

She must have decided to ignore me altogether.   “Will you get out of the tub, or do I have to pull you out?”

 

“My cousin says that a man and a woman get into a bath together,” I would not be deferred.   “They have to be naked, mind you.”   I noticed that she was trying hard not to smile, or was it to croak her impossible laughter?

 

“And which cousin is that, may I ask?”   She said and this time I definitely noted a chuckle.

 

“Cecil.   But anyway…”

 

As she closed her eyes, her eyebrows shot up high onto her forehead and she shook her head in disbelief.   “Why do you always listen to that foolish boy?”

 

“Anyway!”   Now I was getting impatient.   “They get into the bath, like I said, naked,” I emphasized the last word as much as I possibly could.   “And if they wish for a baby really, really hard, God gives it to them.”

 

There was a very long moment of silence, while I continued starring into her eyes and she was returning my stare without a blink.   “Master Konrad,” she said carefully, swallowing hard, “I suggest you get out of this bath this very instant!”

 

As I refused to move, she sighed and pushed herself off the floor, holding onto the bathtub rim.   Then she bent over me, placing her hands under my armpits and picked me straight up as if I was no more than a rag doll, making me stand.   Of course the reason I refused to stand up was that by that time I had already a firm hard on and I did not want her to see it.   I had hoped that if I was to talk about knowing how the babies are made, she would change her mind and leave me alone.   After all, my father did explain to me that talking about things such as lust and love with a person that we did not really love was quite improper.

 

Another thought popped into my head, as I stood there before her, naked as a babe.   If she had really seen that many boys naked, I was certain this would not be the first time or a surprise for her, but it was still an embarrassing situation for me.

 

She deliberately ignored my saluting manhood and with great care washed my legs, first one, and then the other.   She made me bend my knees and put my feet one by one on the rim of the bathtub so that she could wash them, too.   She soaped and rubbed my back and then my front with the washcloth.   Even my buttocks were not spared her delicate deed.

 

Throughout this entire procedure she did not look or touch my cock.   I felt that were she to accidentally brush up against it with any part of her body or clothing that she wore, I would simply explode in ecstasy.

 

Finally, she straightened up and looked me squarely in the eyes.   I felt the blood drain out of my face, still weak from my first experience of drunkenness, I somewhat felt as if I was dreaming.

 

“Now,” she said and with our gazes locked, I still managed to see her hand move towards my lower part of the body and feeling the wetness of the cloth touch my cock. “What are we going to do about that?” I gasped and put my hands onto her shoulders for support. No, this was certainly no dream.

 

I felt the washcloth in her hand slip all around my cock as she squeezed me gently but firmly, making my entire body shiver in a familiar, and yet such a strange sensation.   She knew of course that I had no actual sexual experience with a girl or a woman, just as she knew that I pleasured myself on regular basis, practically every day.   One other thing that I am aware of now is that she certainly knew that it wouldn’t take but a few seconds to bring me to, for me at least, long awaited orgasm caused by someone other than myself. I closed my eyes and let her take complete control of my body.

 

While holding my cock with one hand, with the other she gently cupped my balls.   True to my fear and probably her prediction, five or six gentle synchronized squeezes did the trick. At first I shivered and then my body seemed to spasm, which was followed by a blissful orgasm, stronger than I have ever experienced.

 

A few seconds later, as my body stilled I finally had the courage to open my eyes. Ursula was still staring at me, an odd smile lingering on her lips.

 

“There,” she said and took her hands off me, letting the washcloth drop in the water that by now has become muggy with all the soap used on my body. “You should most certainly feel better now.”

 

I nodded, noting that my face was burning with shame. I even went as far as to prudishly cross the palms of my hands in front of my now much smaller and somewhat shriveled cock.

 

“I can trust you’ll be able to dress yourself and go to bed without my help?” I nodded again and she slowly walked out of the utility room. Just as she was to step out she turned back and gave me the biggest smile I could ever hope for. “Like I said, with what you have master Konrad, you are yet to give your father a headache.”

 

As she disappeared around the corner into the corridor, I could hear her voice call out to me: “And by the way, that is not how babies are made!”

 

I felt like a fool!   Nevertheless, I was a very happy lad that evening, unbeknownst to me at the time, I was to become even happier in the course of that very night. I stepped out of the bathtub and dried myself off, wrapping my skinny body in the biggest towel I could find.

 

As I was heading towards the staircase, I poked my head into the living room, where Ursula was clearing the dishes and glasses off the tables.

 

“Goodnight, Ursi.” I said and without turning around she waved at me.

 

“I will be up a little later to check on you.” She said and my heart skipped with delight.

 

The experiences of the entire day had left me quite exhausted. I thought that I would not be able to go to sleep no matter what, but the moment I laid my head on the pillow I was fast asleep.  

 

- - - - -

 

I felt the coach stop and drew the curtain off the window, only to realize that we stopped in front of my house. I sighed deeply. I did not really want to enter yet, having no energy to argue with Sophia, which I was certain was her intent.

 

The dwelling on the past had lifted my spirits up somewhat and for the first time since I left Johann’s house I was able to take a breath without feeling of heaviness.   I looked forward to my cozy bed, where I could re-live the entire episode with Ursula, which followed that faithful night, many years ago.

I wish I hadn’t.

 

Duke is my dad’s friend. Well, at least a very good and dear acquaintance of his. I never really noticed Duke until my dad pointed him out to me.

 

One day when we were eating lunch, he looked out the window and pointed to a skinny guy who was rushing past the house. “You see this guy?” he asked. I was in a bad mood from a scolding that I had just received and was still sulking. “Yeah? What about him?”

 

Dad didn’t notice my attitude, but proudly continued: “That’s Duke.’ Seeing my blank expression he elaborated. “You know? The champion?”

 

“The champion of what? Apelike walk?” I found my comment extremely funny and giggled. My dad, on the other hand, was not amused.

 

“I don’t understand why you always have to be so sarcastic, Nikkie!” I achieved the desired effect. I pissed him off. “This is exactly the kind of attitude that will get you in a heap of trouble later on in life. He is the kind of person you should be looking up to!”

 

“Yeah?” I asked, trying hard to annoy him even more. “I’d rather look up to George!” I knew my dad hated any kind of mention of my step dad. He detested the fact that all three of his daughters found George to be a great guy. He was kind and generous, intelligent, funny and easy to talk to. I told George more about my life than I could ever imagine telling my dad, or even my mom.

 

We dropped the subject and I forgot all about it.

 

A few days later, I was hanging out at Mr. Dickie’s, the newest and hippest local café with an outside patio, sipping on coffee and sharing gossip with Danielle and Janie. Inevitably, the conversation turned to speculations on who was shagging who and who was going steady and all the rest of the topics, so irresistible to an eighteen-year old mind with nothing better to do.

 

It was the last of the summers that we would have together. High school was over, Janie, Danielle and the rest of the girls were going to college. I, on the other hand, have twisted my mom’s arm about being able to travel for a year before devoting time to serious studies. After months of heavy badgering from me, in a moment of weakness and with gentle persuasion from George she consented.

 

All of a sudden, Janie leaned back in her chair, waving at someone behind my back. “Hey, Duke!” she exclaimed and her face lit up with the nicest of smiles.

 

I turned around and there was Duke, the guy my dad was pointing out to me just a few days ago. He walked towards our table and Janie made the introductions. His handshake was warm and firm, revealing the strength of his body, which was evident from his well-developed arms and chest, and despite the loose t-shirt visible to an observer. He held my hand in his for a few moments longer than one normally would have and when I looked into his eyes I found him unwaveringly returning my gaze, embarrassing me. He must be over thirty, ancient really.

 

“You’re Stan’s daughter, aren’t you?” he asked and I was stunned to realize that he had noticed me at all, let alone knew who my dad was.

 

“Yeah,” I said shyly and smiled, pulling my hand out of his.

 

He stood around for a few minutes longer, chatting with Janie and then said that he had to go. As he was leaving, he looked at me and again, held my gaze long enough to make me blush.

 

When he finally wobbled off, Janie and Danielle burst into giggles. “Did you see that?” Janie nudged me.

 

“See what?” I asked, honestly oblivious to what she was hinting at.

 

“Did you see how he was looking at you, Nikkie?” joined in Danielle.

 

“Oh, please!” I said embarrassed, but delighted. “Did you see the way he walks? Like a chimpanzee!” I couldn’t help myself; his walk was just that odd.

 

“He just became a champion, you know.” Janie leaned closer. “He’s a parachuter, just came back from Germany. He won! He was in the papers and everything. Plus, he’s kind of cute!”

 

“Oh,” I nodded. Now I knew what my dad was referring to. Parachuter, big deal.

 

“He’s dating Bernadette.” Said Danielle and sighed deeply when she saw the blank expression on my face. “Oh, Nik, really! The actress!”

 

I rolled my eyes. “She’s a secretary, you bimbo. Impersonating a peasant woman in a local theatre play doesn’t make her an actress.”

 

Janie and Danielle both laughed out loud. “She’s on a crash diet now, you know.” Revealed Janie.

 

This conversation was getting more and more absurd. “No,” added Danielle, “Seriously, she is losing weight, I saw her a couple of days ago. It must be true.”

 

I shook my head, this was not very interesting.

 

“He looks funny to me.” I pointed out. “He walks funny, his nose is huge…”

 

“Yeah, but did you see those eyes?” asked Janie and I had to admit, even if just to myself, that yes, I did notice those beautiful electric blue eyes.  

 

“I can’t see why you two are drooling over him.” I said. “I thought you and Colin were an item now.” I nodded at Janie

 

“Yeah, well,” shrugged my best friend. “Doesn’t mean I can’t look, does it?”

 

We giggled again and the Duke topic was forgotten.

 

A few days later the summer was almost over and I had one class left, having flunked it, as I was too lazy to apply myself during the year. The blasted math had been giving me a headache throughout the entire high school.   I had to stop at my dad’s apartment every day after summer classes and do my homework there. A punishment for a moment of weakness when I smoked in his place, forgetting that my dad, very much against the bad habit, would smell cigarettes on me within a mile. There was a long discussion between him and my mother, besides cigarettes, they seemed to have concerns about drinking and drugs, too, which to be quite honest was ludicrous. In the small town where I grew up, one cannot sneeze without everybody knowing, let alone drink and do drugs. That’s why I smoked in my dad’s place, not out in the street.

 

On this particular day, I had just finished the grueling task of completing the calculations, which even after two months of vigorous studying seemed as complicated to me as they were on the day I flunked the class. My dad’s apartment was hot and stuffy and I had taken a shower just before leaving for home, which I shared with my mom, step dad George and my two sisters.

 

As I stepped out into the street, I blinded myself by wrapping a string of hair over my face and under my nose in order to take another whiff of shampoo that I had just used in the shower, inhaling its sweet, fruity smell. To my horror, I bumped into somebody, almost falling over like a fool.

 

A strong pair of hands grabbed my forearms and made me yelp in surprise. I brushed the hair out of my eyes and with great embarrassment noticed that the hands belonged to Duke.

 

“Hey there, missy!” he laughed and steadied me, holding onto me even after it was evident that the immediate danger of stumbling about had passed.

 

“Oh,” I gasped. “Hi, Duke.” I giggled and saw his beautiful eyes smiling at me. “I’m... ah…I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

 

“So I see.” He added and I couldn’t quite tell if he was mocking me or if his look of interest was genuine.

 

“Ah…” I felt silly. “Congratulations on your championship.”

 

He nodded and smiled. We stood there for a few moments longer, awkward silence making the situation almost unbearable.

 

“Well, I have…” I said and at the same time he opened his mouth, too: “I heard…

 

We laughed. I waved my hand for him to continue.

 

“I heard you’re about to go take a break from school?” I nodded.

 

“Yeah, I’m going to travel for a year.” I said proudly. “Well, at least I hope I can manage to do it for that long. You know, the money and stuff.”

 

He nodded seriously. Again the silence in which I wondered why I was standing here making myself feel uncomfortable ruled.

 

“I got to go now,” I finally said and bid my goodbyes.

 

I walked towards my home and he went the other way, towards the office building where he worked as an import-export rep, which was carefully explained to me by Janie a day or two before.   As I reached the corner I turned around and noticed that despite continuing to walk forward, Duke was looking back as well, staring straight at me. He waved his hand and I cursed myself for being so indiscrete.

 

As I was leaving my dad’s apartment the following day, I ran into Duke again, this time not in a literal sense. A sneaking suspicion crept inside my heart and for a moment I believed that this time meeting Duke was not accidental. Somehow, I felt that this was planned, on Duke’s part.

 

“Nikkie!” he exclaimed, startling me out of my thoughts. “Just the person I wanted to talk to.” I smiled in amazement. Duke’s attention was most welcome.

 

“Your dad told me that you’re planning to go to London first.” He said and I rolled my eyes. “Oh, come on, Nik.” He said, softly nudging his hand against my shoulder. “Your dad is not too happy with this taking-a-year-off business of yours. He’s worried sick, you know.”

 

“I know.” I said and almost added how pleased I was to be told that and have my suspicions confirmed.

 

“Well,” continued Duke undeterred. “Why don’t you come to my office and I can give you a couple of addresses of people that I know in London, friends of mine from college who moved there years ago?”

 

I was reluctant.

 

“I can also give you the names of the agencies in London, which deal in cheap flights and accommodations throughout Europe. It might come in handy, you know.”

 

I nodded and felt foolish. Of course he would just try to be kind.

 

“Why don’t you come to my office tomorrow? I’ll have the stuff ready for you.”

 

Now, I might be naïve, but I’m not stupid. I saw the way he looked at me. I didn’t really care, though. I was going to stay in this god-forsaken town for another two weeks and then I’ll be gone. Should anything happen, it would have been forgotten by the time I came back, if I ever did, and I most certainly don’t play on ever coming back.  

 

“Okay,” I nodded slowly. “I’ll come by, sure.”

 

“Why don’t you drop by in the evening, after you leave here?” Again, I agreed.

 

“Good!” He smiled and stepped closer to me, completely invading my private space and making me draw a deep breath, trying desperately not to show my discomfort. For a moment I was afraid he was going to kiss me.

 

“Your hair smells really nice.” He whispered. With that he turned around and was gone before I could say anything.

 

The rest of the day I felt like a shadow of myself. My mind raced with the speed of light, unable to concentrate on anything I saw or heard. All I could think about was meeting Duke the following day.

 

I took a long bath that evening, shaving my legs and armpits, and considering if I should shave anything more than that. In the end, I decided that taking care of my bikini line would have to do.   I was pretty certain Duke hasn’t invited me out of kindness alone, he had alternative motives and I didn’t mind. But, should anything happen between us, he will certainly realize that I was a virgin and a shaved pussy would not come across as very modest. I used my mother’s most expensive lotions, which she kept in the back of the bathroom cabinet, always admonishing us girls not to waste them. I hardly considered this a waste.

 

Duke’s whisper, telling me that my hair smelt nice kept ringing in my head, driving me half mad, my body responding to the pure thought of what was probably going to happen.

 

Just as I was about to pull on my pajama bottoms, I paused for a moment and looked at myself in the mirror. My hand cupped my breast and squeezed it lightly; I pinched my own nipple softly and closed my eyes. I hoped to god that tomorrow would be everything I expected it to be. I had been waiting for this moment for a long time and if I was to give my virginity to Duke, I wanted it to be special.

 

Special? Who was I kidding? How could sleeping with a complete stranger be special, particularly if I was to give myself to him in more ways than one? Somehow, I was aware that this was an act of desperation and that fact alone would probably not make it pleasurable. I had no boyfriend or any prospects of sleeping with a man in sight. Doing it with Duke would be very safe. He was in a serious relationship and if I didn’t want anybody to know of what had happened, I was certain it could be kept a secret.

 

My hand left the breast, sliding down my belly and between my legs where I found the bud of my womanhood and within minutes made myself shudder with pleasure. I was about to do something I knew I shouldn’t have, but also knew I absolutely would. I had made up my mind to go through with it and that was that.

 

The following day was unseasonably cold and drab; light drizzle cleaning the streets of a dirty, industrial town where I had grown up. My dad was at home when I came over to do homework and it took all my strength to be able to sit still for a couple of hours and pretend like I was studying.

 

I kept peering at the clock on the wall and a few times wondered if the battery inside was old, making the time go slower than usual.   At five o’clock sharp I closed my books and got up.

 

“I’ve got to go, dad.” I said and my father simply nodded, not lifting his gaze from the newspaper. I left the apartment acutely aware that when I return the following day, I would be a changed person. Nothing would ever be the same again.

 

I stepped out of the building and looked around as if inspecting who was about. I have not told Janie or Danielle or any of the girls about Duke. I was too reluctant in a way, one word from them might change my mind, and I really didn’t want that to happen.

 

I headed towards Duke’s office, which was in the opposite direction from my home. I walked with a determined step, clutching onto my math books, inside of me a volcano of fear and excitement. I had a feeling that people who were passing by could almost certainly hear my heartbeat. It was so strong that I could feel its steady rhythm in my neck.

 

I paused in front of the office building for a moment, aware that once I enter the front door, this will be it, no turning back. Just as I reached for the door, it opened and Duke stood there, smiling at me.

 

“Hey!” he said and my heart sped up, making my ears ring.

 

“Hello.” I replied and accepted the invitation to enter. We walked down the hall, passed a few offices with the doors wide open and to my relief they were all empty.

 

“Nobody here?” I asked innocently.

 

“No.” Duke replied. “Everybody is gone for the day.” He reached for my hand, leading me towards the end of the hall.

 

I felt his strength and hoped that my hand did not shake too much. When we got to the very last office he pointed to the door and stepped aside to let me go in first. As soon as we entered and the door was safely closed behind us, he grabbed me by the forearm and pulled me towards him. I half leaned, half stumbled against him, pressing all my weight against his body.

 

He ran his fingers through my hair and said: “Your hair always smells so nice, Nik.”

 

That statement alone gave me the courage to take the initiative and I raised my face towards his, softly pressing my lips against his. He pounced on me like a cat; leaning me against the door that we had just walked through, pressing his body against mine, running his hands through my hair, and kissing me so passionately I could hardly draw breath. I was well aware that I was still clutching the books against my body. I was so nervous, I was afraid my legs might give way.

 

With his lips completely enveloping mine and his tongue deep inside my mouth, exploring and brushing against my teeth, his eyes closed, he had enough presence of mind to reach for my books and take them out of my hands. My eyes, on the other hand were wide open, I saw his blind attempt of putting the books on an antique mantel piece that stood behind the door, and having missed it, the books heavily slammed on the floor, startling us. He broke the kiss and smiled.

 

“Sorry about that.” He said and I shrugged.

 

Duke picked up the books and carefully placed them on the stand and taking my hand, he led me towards the couch in the middle of the office. I took a moment to look around. The place looked more like a living room than an office. Heavy, old furniture was stuffing the fairly big room, huge plants boasting their greenery in the corners, paintings of seaside landscapes and boats covering the walls.

 

I half expected to see an article from the newspaper with Duke’s picture somewhere on the wall, but he obviously did not want to ruin the feel of a cozy place with his own vanity. I also noticed that the shutters on the huge windows were all closed, darkening the room.

 

Duke made me sit on the couch and with his hands pushed my legs apart, kneeling in front of me. He leaned forward and took my face in his hands, kissing me on the mouth, on the cheeks, placing a soft peck on each eye, his tongue finding its way inside my mouth.

 

Of course I was kissed by other guys before, but never this passionately. As afraid as I was of what was evidently about to come, I could feel my body respond. My stomach knotted into a tight ball, and I could feel a tingle between my legs.

 

Duke was moaning softly, one of his hands now leaving my face and working its way down my denim shirt buttons, undoing each one impatiently and with a surprising skill.

 

“Wait, wait…” I panicked and he stopped, sitting back onto his heels, the other hand joining the effort of freeing me of my shirt.

 

“What?” he gasped, giving me a wicked smile, sexy and dangerous at the same time.

 

“I’ve never…you know…” I said, knowing embarrassment was more then evident. “Well, I’ve never done this before.” I finished.

 

Duke paused for a moment, puzzled.

 

I looked around, not knowing what else to add. The dreaded feeling that he had just completely lost his interest washed over me.

 

“You mean, you never slept with a guy?” He cocked his head questioningly.

 

“No, never.” I cocked mine in response.

 

“Oh.” He said and I thought I saw a momentary disappointment on his face. I felt trapped in my own stupidity. I put myself in this position and didn’t know how to get out of it.

 

“Well,” he smiled and his whole face lit up with mischief. “We don’t really have to fuck, do we?”

 

I winced over his crudeness, nevertheless finding myself returning his smile. Having completed the task of unbuttoning my shirt, he leaned over me again and whispered in my ear. “But I do want to see what you’re hiding in here.” He said and I could feel a wave of tingles traveling from my ear straight down my body and between my legs.

 

His hand reached under my shirt and found its way under my bra, cupping my breast and pinching my nipple, in the exact same way as I had done the night before. I couldn’t help but moan and this seemed to please him.

 

Duke kissed me on my neck, causing me to shudder with pleasure. He kissed his way down my chest, pushing the shirt over my shoulders and pulling my bra over my breasts, exposing them to a man’s eyes for the first time since I was a little girl, running around the pool naked with my sisters, oblivious to the shame that would so soon become a burden of modesty to a young woman.

 

He kissed my nipple, gently biting it and making me yelp in surprise.

 

“You seem to be ready for it.” He whispered and continued to suckle on my breast as if he was a little babe. I closed my eyes and ran my hands through his mop of brown, unruly hair. I seemed to like him more with every moment.

 

Without a word of resistance from me, he sat back on his heels, taking off my shirt completely, expertly undoing my bra and sliding it off my arms.

 

“Mmm, beautiful.” He whispered and I moaned again. This was turning out to be pretty good. Of course, like every girl in anticipation of this moment I had always pictured it to be romantic, an inevitable following of a few dates, hanging out in nightclubs, probably slightly tipsy, on a soft bed, with quiet music in the background and the works. At this particular moment, though, I didn’t particularly care. He was hot, making me hot too and I was ready for anything.

 

Yet, I was not ready for him to pull away all of a sudden, stand up and point somewhere behind the couch on which I was sitting, offering his hand to me. I got up and to my great dismay noticed a makeshift pallet in the corner of the adjacent, smaller room in the back; empty of all the furniture but for the huge copying machine and several maps of the area plastered on the wall. I felt silly standing in the middle of the office, half naked and shivering with embarrassment. I crossed my arms over my breasts in a gesture of modesty and he smiled.

 

“Don’t,” he said. “They’re so beautiful, don’t hide them.” I returned a smile but kept my arms crossed. “Come.” He said and grabbed one of my hands, leading me into the other room. “Come,” he said encouragingly again. “We’ll just play a little, it’ll be okay.”

 

I followed like a lamb to the slaughter and writing this now, I still feel like that. We paused in front of the pallet and Duke gave me a hug, kissing me, and running his fingers over my back. The sensation was unfamiliar to me, but pleasurable to the point where I completely lost my head, finally returning the passionate kiss and wrapping my arms around his strong body.

 

“Yeah,” he whispered as he pulled his lips off mine, still holding me, pressing his pelvis against mine. I could feel hardness nudging the sensitive spot between my legs, the similar feeling of pleasure that I felt when playing with myself.

 

Duke stepped away from me, unzipping his pants and with virginal embarrassment, I turned away, noticing the heavy wooden door which must have lead into the hall, bordering on one side of the pallet. I panicked.

 

“What if somebody comes in?” I asked.

 

“Locked,” he responded after following my gaze to the door. “Always locked.” I sighed in relief.

 

Another wave of panic flushed over me and as if reading my mind, Duke answered. “The other door is locked, too.” I haven’t noticed him locking it up. “Besides, only a cleaning lady will come into the building, but not in here.”

 

I tried to think if I knew who was the cleaning lady of this building. It would have been just my luck that the door was not properly locked and somebody that I had known was to walk in on us. I looked back at Duke and the fear of being discovered was replaced by a shock. In a few seconds when I was freaking out over the security of the rooms we were occupying, he managed to take off all of his clothes and now stood in front me naked, but for the socks. My eyes almost popped out of my head.

 

This was the fist time I had ever seen a man completely naked, my first glance at the cock, let alone an erect one. A glance was all it took; I was too embarrassed to look longer. I turned away and again, my hands crossed over my chest.  

 

Duke stepped towards me and hugged me, caressing my hair and kissing my face, his tongue seeking out my own. He slid down in front of me, kneeling and a funny thought of how much he likes kneeling ran through my mind, making me giggle.

 

He looked back at me and grinned. The giggle was obviously taken as what it was, a sign of embarrassment rather than mockery. He unzipped my jeans and let them drop to the floor, pulling them over my feet together with the sneakers that I wore. To my great relief, he left my panties on for the time being. I felt as if I would die on the spot were he to take them off right away. This was the first time I was naked with a man and the feeling of exhilaration was still coupled with shame.

 

“Come,” Duke pulled me down to him, gently pushing me onto the pallet. I laid on my back, carefully pressing my legs together, well aware that this would turn out to be more than just a little play, like Duke pointed out earlier.

 

He lay next to me and began kissing me all over - my face, breasts, belly, working his way down my thighs to my knees, extending his arm above my waist and gently tickling my side making me shriek in laughter. “Sshh.” He said and pulled himself back up so that we lay side by side.

 

“What?” I asked innocently and giggled again.

 

“The cleaning lady is here.” That sobered me up instantly. I was ready to jump up and put on my clothes.

 

“No, no.” Duke pressed me back onto the pallet. “She won’t come in, it’s locked, remember?” I looked at him and then fearfully at the door, which was so close that I could have touched it was I to extend my arm. “We’ll just have to be quiet.” He said and buried his face into my belly.

 

His soft kisses, tongue running over my skin, gentle pinches of my nipples and firm squeezes with his hands were driving me wild. I was aware of my body being completely turned on; I could feel the wetness between my legs. Despite the fear of what was to come, I could hardly wait for it to happen.

 

Very naively I suppose, I still had a notion of romantic coupling seen on TV and read of in the books. Everything was to be passionate and gentle, beautiful and satisfying.

 

When Duke pulled my panties off I didn’t resist. His hand stroked my inner thighs and without a thought I spread my legs enough to give him a free passage. As eager as he seemed before, he took his time now. His fingers were running over my thigh to the knee and back, barely touching the skin, giving me the feeling of light electric shocks in my leg.

 

It bothered me however that he laid next to me, propped up on his elbow, staring at me without saying a word, a smug grin on his face. He must have seen what his touch was doing to me. I suppose one would not have expected a virgin to be this forthcoming, but he was driving me absolutely mad with teasing.

 

“You want to kiss my dick?” he asked all of a sudden and I almost screamed in horror. “It’s okay,’ he smiled, “You don’t have to, we can do that some other time.” His hand reached up higher on my thigh than before, only to change its course and go back down to my knee.

 

Did he really say ‘the next time’? Was there to be the next time? I wanted it to be, at least at that moment I did. If what was to come was this pleasurable, I would certainly want it to happen again.

 

Finally, his hand pushed further up my inner thigh, making me spread my legs even more and for the first time in my life, I felt somebody else’s fingers on my clitty. The feeling is almost impossible to describe and I hope I never forget it. I was already turned on and when he brushed his fingers against my pussy I yelped, trying hard to keep it to myself, but didn’t quite succeed. He placed his finger on my clitty and held it there for a few moments, still but with slight pressure applied.

 

“You like that?” he asked and I closed my eyes in shame and pleasure. “Tell me, Nikkie, please.” He whispered and the pressure on my clitty intensified. I thought I was going to cry, I felt so good. “Do you…?

 

“Yes, yes, oh yes.” I gasped and felt his finger starting to make delicate circles around my clitty, then on top of it, as if trying to circle the little bud itself. My thighs twitched and I moaned, aware that I might look silly, but not caring.

 

He kept rubbing my clitty and pressing his fingers against my pussy, kissing my neck at the same time, then tracing his tongue to my breast and suckling on my nipple, all the while his fingers between my legs never stopped working.

 

I could feel the pleasure in my belly intensifying and I could not believe that I was so close to cumming, having it done so many times by myself, but it never seemed to be this pleasurable. As if from a great distance, I remember hearing Janie’s voice explaining that it had taken her a long time before she cummed with her boyfriend. Months, I think she said.

 

Well, Janie – I thought – it won’t take months for me.

 

I was grateful that Duke didn’t try and make me touch his dick or like he asked me before take it in my mouth. I was too freaked out, yet. After all, this was my first time.

 

Just as I was certain that a few more brushes against my clitty were going to send me over the edge and into a whirlpool of pleasure such as I have not experienced before, Duke pulled his hand away and to my disappointment and anticipation, but still terror, knelt between my legs, hooking his arms under my knees and driving them up, so that they were almost pressed against my belly.

 

He didn’t say anything this time, his face serious with concentration over what he was doing. I finally gathered the courage to look at his dick again and it appeared funny to me. The sight of its purplish head almost made me burst into laughter. Until, that is, I felt it press against the entrance of my pussy, which by that time was well lubed with my own juices.

 

I wanted to ask him to please continue with what he was doing before. I thought maybe I should tell him how close I was to cumming, but the inexperience had made me keep quiet in embarrassment.   Having positioned himself, Duke looked in my eyes and slowly pushed forward. The unfamiliar feeling of an intruder entering my body made me squirm.

 

Janie told me that the first time usually hurts; sometimes a lot, but I felt no pain yet. Duke paused a little and pushed in farther. I could see the sweat beads gathering on his forehead. Then he shoved in deeper and the first pain in my stomach made me grab his arms, and jump up as if trying to squirm from under him and sit up.

 

I think he must have anticipated that and he lay on top of me, his belly against mine, his arms pushing my legs horizontally on my body, opening me up completely. He pushed in again and the pain became more pronounced, intensifying each time he shoved, until I thought I couldn’t take it anymore.

 

“Please stop!” I gasped, but Duke kept pushing deeper, now holding onto my arms as if trying to pull himself all the way inside of me. The searing pain of his dick entering my virgin pussy was incredible. Suddenly, I felt as if something inside me had snapped and I couldn’t keep quiet. I didn’t scream off the top of my lungs as I wanted to, but the groan was loud and if anybody was listening, they must have heard it.  

 

“Stop, stop!” I begged and he stopped but didn’t pull out.

 

“It’s all the way in, now, sweetheart.” He whispered, gently kissing me on the lips. I didn’t want to be kissed. “It’s going to get better, you’ll see.” He said and I seriously doubted that this pain would simply go away. “It’s alright, I can wait.” He said.

 

I didn’t want him to wait. I wanted him to pull out and let me go.

 

After a few moments he started pumping in and out very gently, his movements barely visible to an eye, but to my pussy, each one seemed like an assault with a thick bat. The burning pain traveled into my belly and I cringed, trying hard not to start crying.

 

He was wrong. It did not get any better. He was fucking me softly for what seemed like an hour to me, although I’m certain it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.

 

“Be careful.” I said. If I couldn’t get him to stop, I hoped I could at least make sure he didn’t cum inside me. How foolish not to use a condom. Again, by Janie’s instructions, I didn’t even think of a condom. She told me that the first time with a condom is an absolute agony. How much more of an agony than this could it be, I couldn’t imagine.

 

“Oh, baby,” he whispered and started pumping in and out more forcefully, the pain in my stomach still beyond anything I imagined.

 

All of a sudden I heard something bang against the door where we lay, just inches from my face. My eyes popped in horror and I looked at Duke, ready to become completely hysterical.

 

He shook his head and pouted his lips in a quiet ‘sshh’, his pelvis not missing a beat. I could not believe the situation I have gotten myself into. Here I was, in an office of all places, laying on the blanket, in the process of losing my virginity to someone I cared absolutely nothing about, which I’m sure was the case with Duke as well, and a cleaning woman was banging her broom against the door, hopefully oblivious of what was going on the other side.

 

After a couple of additional fairly forceful bangs, I heard her footsteps moving away from the door, farther down the hall. I sighed in relief, but just for a moment. As I looked at Duke, I saw a satisfied grin on his face. “I thought she’d never leave.” He whispered and despite the pain and discomfort I smiled back.

 

 

“Cos,” he continued and I could feel his grip on my arms tighten. “I’m ready to cum, baby!” With that, his pumping intensified, turning into forceful rammings, oblivious to my whimpering and squirming, trying to see it through, terrified at the length of time it was taking him to finish.

 

I freed my arms and pressed against his chest as if to shove him off. I tighten up my body, as if trying to push the invasive dick out of my sore pussy and this seemed to fire Duke up even more. “Yeah,” he gasped, “That’s right, squeeze me!” he said fucking me hard now, each thrust causing me a new wave of burning pain. “Squeeze my dick, Nikkie!” he kept on and I kept trying to push him out while he continued the assault on my tender part.

 

The weirdest thing was that despite the pain, it felt good. With each thrust deeper inside, his pelvis pressed against my clitty, giving me pleasure despite the hopeless situation and an understanding that I would not achieve the peak that I almost did before he entered me.

 

I looked at him and his face was almost as purple as his dick’s head was when I saw him naked. The veins on his forehead and neck were popping out, he was sweaty, his eyes shut, his mouth slightly open with the tongue pressed against the upper lip. He was a handsome man, but seeing him at that particular moment, he looked completely different, pleasurable intoxication making his face ugly.

 

In my inexperience I couldn’t quite tell when he was cumming and didn’t moan about being careful, again. I didn’t think he could fuck me any harder, but the last few thrusts were so powerful, he moved us both up on the blanket, scraping my back against the rough material. His body surged forward and his chest swayed in front of my face. Determined to return some of the pain that he was causing me, I sucked onto his erect nipple and bit down harder than I meant to, causing him to yell out in pain, his dick completely buried inside of me, Duke still pumping without pulling out now. I could feel the throbbing of his dick, as he was cumming, his body shuddering in a wave of pleasure, a deep groan escaping his throat.

 

For a few moments afterwards, he remained still between my legs, his upper body supported on his hands, his muscular chest above me. I could feel him relax, his face smoothed over, the redness slowly dissipating.

 

As if he had only just realized I was there he looked down at me and smiled. I didn’t feel like smiling. He slowly pulled out, which again caused a burning sensation inside my pussy, but not as bad as before.

 

“Did I hurt you?” he asked and lifted his body off mine, laying next to me. I could feel his cum oozing out of me and the feeling was uncomfortable. I meant to tell him that he was supposed to be careful and not cum inside, but I couldn’t be bothered. It wouldn’t make any difference. I quietly hoped that the saying of the first fuck not resulting in pregnancy was true.  

 

I felt cold and dirty. I didn’t want to lie around and cuddle and I got the feeling Duke felt the same. I sat up and he handed me a small towel to wipe myself off. With that gesture I realized that this was all planned. The pallet was deliberately spread out for me. Duke telling me that we didn’t have to fuck, just play around a bit was bullshit and I fell for it. I had no one to blame but myself.

 

I quietly wiped myself off, noticing traces of blood mixed with his sperm. I got up and dressed and Duke did the same. While he was pulling his clothes on, he did not look at me once. Only when I was all dressed and ready to go, walking towards the entrance, he came after me. “Wait, wait.” He said and hugged me. Despite the bad experience that I had just had, I was grateful for that hug.

 

He leaned over and kissed me, gently like a lover, and I loved him for it.

 

That happened a week ago. I had my final exam yesterday and hope that I will pass, I won’t get the results until tomorrow. I haven’t seen Duke since the day in his office and I’m not looking forward to seeing him again. Each time I leave my dad’s apartment I am careful to check the street before I step out.

 

I’m glad I did it and then again, I’m not. I probably should have waited. I finally told Janie yesterday and she seemed disappointed. I didn’t know she had fancied him and she didn’t tell me so, but I could gather from her reaction. Well, I can’t help it now. I’m leaving for London on Sunday and I’m excited. Duke never gave me any of the addresses that he promised and I didn’t ask. I think I might be better off without them, anyway.

 

- - -

 

I sat still for a while after I finished reading the entry. I was amazed at my immaturity and saddened over what had happened, or what I had allowed to happen. It had been so long ago. I hardly ever think of Duke any more. Janie and the others never mention him in their letters or phone calls, and for all I know he could be dead. I wouldn’t care one way or the other.

 

A deep sigh escaped me and I became aware that during my reading all members of my little animal family have come into the patio room and were now lying around me. I was grateful for that. If I had gotten pregnant by Duke, my life might have been much different. I liked it better this way.

ss="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt">PERMINDA – May 1986

 

Bumming around and living out of a suitcase, or a backpack as the case may be is a very tiresome business. At the very least it’s dangerous and full of uncertainty. I have been on the road for less than six months and have indulged in so many vices and luxuries that I have ran out of money already. Too proud to ask my parents for some money, certain that if I did they would only have sent me a one-way plane ticket, destination US, I have started looking for some sort of a job.

 

As luck would have it, I walked into the “Red Lion” Pub in Wormley, a small town in Hertfordshire, and seeing the “HELP NEEDED” sign, I inquired after the employment and was hired on the spot. After a day of crash course in pulling pints and mixing drinks, I ended up behind the bar and had remained here for almost three months now.

 

I had proven myself to be reliable and pretty good with customers and have landed the big money making shifts, mainly Friday and Saturday nights, when pubs are absolutely chock-a-block with people eating and drinking.

 

I have even managed to make a few acquaintances and on some nights after the pub closes, I go out to a club, dancing my head off and drinking myself into a stupor. The years of serious study are waiting patiently for me and I had decided that I would spend the next few months partying as much as I could, meeting different people and enjoying myself to the max.

 

I have been very careful not to mess around with anyone, as this is the last thing on my mind right now. Bad experience with Duke and another one with a guy called Tony had made me believe that maybe I should wait. Plenty of time for sex, yet.

 

But, never say never, as the saying goes, I proved myself totally wrong the minute I decided not to keep my hopes up in the sex department.

 

Two evenings ago, just as the manager was ringing the last call, a group of girls that I had befriended walked in, shouting hellos and waving wildly. “Hey, Nik!” yelled Maureen, a tall redhead with a horsy face who was always the light of the party. “We came to take you with us, Nik! We’re going to Lancaster’s.”

 

I didn’t feel much like clubbing on that particular night. I was very tired and had hoped for some peaceful rest for a change. Just as I was about to say no, I saw another girl in their midst, one I have never seen and who had caught my eye immediately.

 

She was a short and slim East Indian girl with thick black hair, hanging in a ponytail down to her mid back. Despite the general happiness and silliness with which the rest of the girls were carrying on, she was somewhat somber and quiet. She was so small that she might have easily been missed in the crowd. Until, that is, one looked into her face. Big, dark brown eyes and thick black eyebrows, giving her the look of seriousness and beauty. She wasn’t laughing out loud, but the smile never left her pretty face.

 

“All right, I just have to finish here.” I changed my mind, not quite knowing why. With hardly any experience in heart matters, I felt an instant attraction to the girl.

 

“It’s the last call, girls.” I tried to over shout the patrons of the pub. “You’d better decide quickly.”

 

“Five lager shandies, Nik!” yelled Amy, equally struggling to be heard.

 

“No,” said the beautiful girl, who by now had sat on the bar stool directly in front of me. “I’ll take one with no shandy, thank you.”  

 

I pulled the pints and placed the requested one in front of the girl who held my interest. “Are you with that lot?” I asked smiling.

 

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah.” We both giggled and I felt a warm feeling inside my body. A shiver went up my spine, and my heart seemed to have sped up a little. I tried hard to make myself believe that it was just her beauty that I admired, just the aesthetic look, nothing more.

 

“I’m Paddy, by the way.” She extended her hand, shaking mine with a firm, warm grip.

 

“I’m Nikkie.” I said. “Wait! Paddy?” she nodded. “I thought that was a guy’s name.” I asked confused.

 

“Well, it’s Perminda, really. But nobody here seems to have enough wits to remember it properly, so they call me Paddy.” She explained in a thick cockney accent.

 

Perminda – a name just as beautiful as the girl whom it belonged. It rolled softly on my tongue and I made a mental note not to forget it.

 

“Well, I’ll remember it.” I said and noticed her watching me carefully, as if looking for a sign of mockery.  

 

Half an hour later, the bar cleaned up and the doors safely locked, I found the five girls waiting for me in the parking lot at the front. “We’re taking a taxi, Nikkie.” Said Maureen. I was fine with that; I didn’t want to worry about who was too drunk to drive and whether I’ll make it back alive and in one piece. By the look of it, they have all had enough to drink already.

 

When we arrived at the Lancaster’s I was grateful for the opportunity to relax and have a drink myself. The girls were chatting constantly, discussing their private lives of which I didn’t know much about, as we were not true friends, we just hung out together sometimes. Like me, I noticed Perminda did not engage in conversation much. She sort of swayed in her seat in synchronicity with the rhythm, but refused to go out into the dance floor, just like me.  

 

From time to time I would catch her looking at me intently and each time she would give me a smile and look away, sipping on her drink. Pretty soon, everybody seemed to be seriously drunk, including me.

 

The fatigue that I felt when still working had crept back and all of a sudden I felt too tired to be bothered with loud music and friendliness. I decided I would head for my little room above the pub where I worked and get the rest my body needed.

 

As I got up, finishing my drink, Amy grabbed me by the arm. “Finally decided to dance, have you?”

 

“No, no.” I smiled and looked at Perminda. “I’m going home, I’m tired.”

 

“Aw…” Amy and Penny whined in a chorus. “It’s early.”

 

I was adamant. Tired enough to have difficulty in keeping my eyes open, nothing could have persuaded me otherwise.

 

“Hold on.” said Perminda. “I just have to go to the loo and then we can share a taxi.”

 

Before I could say anything she jumped up and walked away. Amy giggled and nudged me under the ribs, whispering in my ears. “You know she’s a lezzie, right?”

 

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Oh, Amy, really!”

 

“She is!” continued Amy. “And Maureen has been trying to get into her pants for ages. Just for fun.” She giggled again. “No luck, though.” With that, she walked away. My heart skipped a beat. Was that really what I wanted? And if so, how would I approach her? I had absolutely no experience, especially with girls.

 

A minute later, Perminda was standing next to me, holding both of our jackets, motioning me to follow. We found a row of taxis waiting in front of the club, happy to escape the long wait in the chilly drizzle.

 

“Where are you going?” I asked Perminda as the taxi pulled off and headed towards Wormley.

 

“I could take a train to London, that’s where I live.” She said, and I nodded.   “Or,” she looked at me, “I could crash at your place, as I’m in no state to travel at this time of night.”

 

I felt a sickening feeling of discomfort, yet again I simply nodded. The question of me having guests in my room never arouse with my landlord and the pub’s manager as had never had any. I hoped everybody was asleep and we wouldn’t be spotted sneaking in.

 

“Oh God,” said Perminda when we entered my room and she plopped on the bed. “I’m knackered.”

 

“Yeah, me too.” I agreed. Fatigue was getting the better of me and I believed that I would be asleep the instant my head hit the pillow. “I need to take a shower, though.” I said and Perminda cringed. “I hate the smell of cigarettes in my hair, it drives me absolutely berserk.”

 

As I was reaching for my pajamas in the drawer, I looked into the mirror above the cabinet and saw she was taking her clothes off. I staggered into the bathroom and took a long, hot shower, trying to exorcise some of the alcohol and clear my head. My hair smelling of wild berries and my skin of freshly scented, I turned off the light in a small bathroom expecting Perminda to be fast asleep.

 

It was a pleasant surprise to find her sitting in bed, browsing through one of my books. When she saw me enter, she put it away and slid deeper into bed.

 

“I’m afraid it’s a bit tight.” I said, motioning to a twin bed, which was not meant for two people.

 

“It’s alright, I don’t mind.” She said and flipped the cover to make space for me. The sight of her small but muscular, completely naked body lying between my sheets, had taken me aback for a second. I stood still, not knowing what to do.

 

“I thought that was what you wanted.” She said, looking at me seductively.

 

She was right, somewhere in the back of my mind I did want it to happen, but now faced with it, I was lost. She had loosened her hair, which now her shoulders and breasts, making her look like a beauty from an old black-and-white movie.

 

Where I gathered the courage to slowly take my pajamas off before crawling into bed, I will never know, but that is exactly what I did. She scooted over a bit, giving me more space and as I lay next to her, she covered me carefully, hugging me with one arm and pressing her soft skin against mine.

 

I laid like that, Perminda next to me, supporting herself on the elbow, looking into my eyes. “You’ve never been with a woman?” she asked and I shook my head, as I was afraid I couldn’t utter a word without croaking like a bird.

 

She smiled warmly and lowered her face towards mine, her lips almost touching mine, but not quite. I could feel her breath on my face, both of us looking at each other. The moment was very arousing; I could feel a tingle in my belly.

 

Perminda put her hand on my hair and caressed it gently, kicking the cover off us, her face still hovering over mine. “I want to see you.” She said, as we lay naked and uncovered, our bodies hot with desire.

 

As she finally pressed her lips on mine, a moan escaped me. It seemed like I had been waiting for that moment forever. She tasted fresh, despite all the alcohol she had drunk. Her kiss was gentle, her hand combing through my hair, her lips enveloping mine.

 

“Are you sure about this?” she asked when she broke the kiss and before she finished the question I replied with a ‘yes’. At that particular moment I wanted it more than anything else in the world.  

 

Her face almost touching mine, I felt her hand slide off my hair and down my shoulders, cupping my breast, squeezing it gently and rubbing the nipple, giving it a slight pinch. I was very aware of every move she made, each one the lightest touch on my skin only to turn into a powerful squeeze. She had more strength than her small body would make one believe.

 

Her lips leaving mine, she slowly kissed her way down my neck, pausing on each nipple, sucking it softly, her eyes holding mine in a steady gaze. Her hand continued down   my belly, touching it so softly it made me shiver in discomfort, which seemed to amuse Perminda and she giggled. Her fingers continued over my Venus mound, down one thigh to the knee and then back up, only to give the same attention to the other one.

 

I had spread my legs slightly, inviting her to reach between them and feel the wetness of my swollen pussy, but she seemed to ignore it. Now, she covered my belly with her kisses, slipping the tongue inside my belly button, continuing down the thighs, following the same path her fingers had taken just seconds ago.

 

With a very poor experience in sex I had never been teased like that before and I was almost certain that were she to touch my clit, using fingers or tongue, I would cum instantly, my body was that turned on. The only person who had ever brought me to an orgasm was myself and the odd feeling of someone else’s power over it was ecstatic, yet freaky.

 

I couldn’t stand the teasing anymore and I sat up, pushing her off me and onto the bed, so that now she was lying in front of me. Her body was small, yet muscular, she must have been working out. Her small breasts were firm and the olive toned skin soft beyond any I have touched before.

 

For a moment I knelt beside her, perfectly still, enjoying the beautiful sight. She could easily have put on a bikini at any time during the year and proudly walked around without sucking her belly in or pushing her breasts out.

 

“What’s the matter?” she asked when I haven’t moved for a while.

 

I shook my head and smiled. “Nothing, I just want to look at you. I want to remember your body, just like I’ll remember your name forever.” I said and we giggled at the private joke.

 

I put the palm of my hand flat on her stomach, covering the belly button and my touch was just as arousing to me as hers was before. I rubbed her belly in gentle, circling motions and was pleased to see her close her eyes and moan softly. I must have been doing something right.

 

I ran my hand up her body and for the first time in my life, I touched a woman’s breast, the feeling familiar, yet strange. I squeezed it gently and leaned over, licking on the nipple as if it was a blob of whipped cream, sucking into it like a little babe.

 

At the same time I felt Perminda lift her butt off the bed, inviting me to reach between her legs, exactly like I wanted her to do to me before. My willpower was not as strong as hers; I couldn’t tease her or myself like she did. Still sucking onto her nipple, the free hand slid down her belly and over the mound, covered in carefully shaved design, leaving most of it bare, but for a small triangle of soft black hair.  

 

I spread my fingers into a V, two and two together, massaging her pussy lips, careful not to touch the clit. If she teased me, she must like it on herself, too, I thought and was glad to hear her soft moan of protest. I rubbed her lips gently at first, increasing the pace slowly, still sucking onto her nipples.

 

My own pussy swollen and wet prevented me to keep my legs together and I had to spread my knees or it would have become uncomfortable. All I wanted to do was to taste her, touch her clitty with my tongue, and suck onto it in a way that I had been touched before, only it was by a man. I believed I could do a job just as well if not better. I knew exactly what a woman wanted, at least what my preferences were. Gentle licking replaced by a powerful sucking, and yet, not trying to bite the little thing off. Rough sex feels good, but the clitty always appreciates tenderness rather than brutality.

 

Finally, I pushed her legs apart and knelt in between, awarded with a splendid look at her cherry red pussy, which was a deep contrast to her otherwise olive complexion. The sight was absolutely intoxicating. I heard Perminda gasp and she shot her ass up again, another invitation to do what I wanted to so much.

 

I placed my index fingers onto her pussy lips and spread them up even more, the clitty now completely exposed, deep red mound offered to me by a beautiful girl. I lowered my face towards it and for the first time in my life caught a whiff of a clean pussy. When I gently touched it with my tongue, as if only to taste it, she thrashed wildly and almost hit me in the face with her pussy.

 

She grabbed my hair roughly and pulled me onto her, indicating that I should not stop now. I licked and sucked, tasting her tarty but sweet juices, feeling her pelvis sway in the rhythm with my tongue. She moaned and so did I, one of my hands sliding onto my own pussy, massaging it softly, just as it did Perminda’s a few minutes before.

 

I must have stayed there good twenty minutes; the uncomfortable position of kneeling between her legs caused my back to hurt and feet go numb. I didn’t want to stop, but I felt that if I didn’t I was going to give myself a cramp. Just as I was about to change positions, she grabbed onto my hair again, pulling my face free of her pussy.

 

“I’m so close, Nik. So close…” she motioned me to straighten up and I did so, grateful to be able to prevent an embarrassing situation taking place.

 

She grabbed the hand that had been between my legs just moments before and pushed my middle and ring fingers deep into her mouth. She sucked on them, making sure they were completely wet with her saliva. Then she grabbed my hand with both of hers and bent the two wet fingers, extending the ones on each side.

 

“Put them in, just like that.” She whispered and I didn’t need to be told twice. I pushed gently, keeping the other hand on her clit, gently circling. Perminda half sat up, grabbing my arm and ramming my fingers in as deep as they would go. She obviously liked it hard and I obliged.

 

I rubbed against the small rough spot just above the entrance of her pussy, knowing that would make her cum. “Harder, Nik!” she gasped and fucked my fingers. “Oh God, oh God…” she yelled. “I’m so close…”

 

I continued pushing and rubbing inside her pussy, lifting her ass off the bed with my two fingers, afraid that I might hurt her, but judging by her reaction, I was doing quite the opposite. I can’t really tell how erotic this scene would be to a bystander. The gentility of lovemaking was gone, only to be replaced by rough masturbation of this slight woman, which she obviously enjoyed immensely.

 

“Oh, yeah…” she gasped and half sat up. “All the way in, all the way…”

 

I finger fucked her as hard as I could, feeling sweat beads gathering on my forehead, despite the coldness of the room.

 

Suddenly, she pushed hard with her feet against the bed, lifting her pelvis high in the air, her pussy muscles clamping onto my fingers tight, desperate gasps of pleasure mixed with moans and groans. I kept pumping my fingers in and out, this time however, softly, as if to pacify her thrashing body, not quite willing to leave the warm and soft pussy yet. She was cumming all over my fingers, her body swaying gently now, as if moved by a soft breeze. Her orgasm was much longer than any of mine had ever been and I jealously tapped her clitty.

 

She lay in front of me, her legs spread wide, knees now resting on the bed, gasping for air and rubbing her own breasts. “Fuck, that was good.” she said and smiled.

 

“Come here,” she said and this time put her own middle and ring fingers inside her mouth, coating them with her spit, pushing the pillows off the bed so that her head was flat on the sheet. “Sit over me.” she commanded and I did as I was told.

 

As soon as my pussy was over her face she clamped her lips onto my clit without any foreplay, pushing two of her fingers deep inside of me. Having just made her cum and seeing her pleasure was arousal enough. I was ready for anything.  

 

The spot that she was paying all her attention to seemed to become the center of my conscious universe. Nothing else mattered, nothing else was real. The realization that I am about to cum with someone else’s fingers inside my pussy, not my own made the whole thing even more arousing.

 

Unlike me, it had taken Perminda bare few minutes and the spot inside my pussy began tingling, seemingly spreading, reaching down my legs, causing them to wobble dangerously, above my waist, over the breasts and into my head, making my head spin. I yelped, trying not to make a sound loud enough to be heard by anyone in the house. Fat chance of that, I think. The walls seem to be made of paper.

 

I shivered and moved my pussy on her mouth even after her fingers slid out of it and she continued to suck. The feeling of exhilaration gone, it was replaced by an unpleasantness as my clit had become oversensitive to stimulation and I tried to stop her, lifting my knee of the bed in order to get off her face. She wouldn’t let me though. She grabbed my hips and pulled them down roughly, placing my pussy back onto her mouth.

 

“This doesn’t feel good now…” I gasped, holding onto the headboard, trying hard not to fall down on her face.

 

“Just wait a moment.” She paused sucking for a moment. “You’ll see.”

 

The smacking sound of her lips and tongue against my clit resumed and I was amazed at how right she was. Unpleasantness soon turned into a feeling of pleasure and within another minute, my clit exploded in the same volcano of enjoyment as my pussy had before.

 

“Oh Paddy,” I gasped, conscious of the verbal muck up. I simply could not think straight. “Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes…”

 

Still, she didn’t let me go. One more orgasm later, each seemingly stronger than the previous one, I finally managed to pull myself off her and plop heavily on the bed next to her.

 

“You’re amazing!” I said, barely able to catch my breath.

 

“I know.” She said without any modesty and giggled. I wasn’t in the mood for giggles; my mind was still orgasming even if my body had stopped.

 

I believe that a few seconds later I was fast asleep, and so was Perminda. The night full of passion and pleasure will be something I will remember forever.

 

----

 

I smiled to myself. I still remembered everything exactly as it had happened. I had met with Perminda a few times after that, always in London, usually for nothing else but a roll between the sheets. She had taught me so much of my own body as well as hers.

 

I wondered whatever happened to her. I wouldn’t have minded another crazy night with her. Or any time of the day, for that matter.

0pt; text-align: justify"> 

She didn’t mind rain at all. In fact, rain was her favorite. Sunny days always made her moody and often downright depressed. Rain was fine as far as she was concerned. No need for an umbrella or mad dash from one doorway to another in hope of not getting wet, looking silly while zigzagging in an attempt to achieve the impossible.

 

She found walking in the rain romantic, and that says a lot for someone who determinedly claims she doesn’t have a romantic bone in her body. Walking in the rain by the lake during the storm amounted to exhilarating moments, with lightning forking the broad horizon and waves wildly foaming in fury.

 

On the other hand, the stench she simply tried to ignore by keeping the car windows firmly closed. It was no easy task given that the air conditioning was not working, and the humidity outside had reached its highest point. So, she decided to ignore that, too.

 

Trying to master the Chicago traffic in the rain was quite a different story. The first few raindrops or snowflakes would turn everybody into incompetent imbeciles, making an otherwise easy ride frustrating.

 

She had already seen two fender benders, with people sulkily standing outside in the pouring rain and inspecting the damage, trying to exchange insurance information. A lady stood at the curb waiting for a bus, holding a newspaper over her head in an attempt to keep her hair dry. “You should forget that, lady.” She said loudly as if a woman could hear her. “It might look better.”

 

She smiled again and stole a quick glance at the dashboard clock. “Fuck!” She whispered quietly. She will never make it in time.  

 

Numerous e-mails sent by Guy earlier in the morning, some mere hints of sexuality full of playfulness that could be interpreted in any number of ways, others crude, leaving no doubt of what they meant, have achieved the desired. All she wanted now was to go home, lay in bed and wait for his call, letting his soft voice direct her through the moves that she had repeated thousands of times, but with his guidance, the ending was usually earth shattering. She left work early on pretences of not feeling well.

 

Her crotch throbbed in anticipation; she kept squeezing her thighs and contracting her muscles, which didn’t make it any better. The simmer of arousal had gradually become more pronounced, and now, some three hours later, all she wanted was for the cell phone to ring so that she could reach between her legs and do what was inevitably coming.

 

As if she willed it, the small phone rang out the Halloween Theme, causing her to floor the break in momentary panic, despite the fact that for once, the traffic was flowing smoothly. She took a deep breath in an attempt to appear cool and collected. On the small, round phone window Guy’s name was flashing in neon green. She smiled and flipped the phone open.

 

“Hello, darling.” Her voice immediately dropped a couple of notches into what she hoped was a sexy moan of seductiveness.

 

“Hello, darling.” Guy responded, his voice just as appropriately low. “What’s happening?”

 

“Well,” she said, closing her eyes for a moment, hoping that the car in front of her wouldn’t come to a sudden stop. “I’m still stuck in the traffic. It’s absolutely awful.”

 

“Oh, okay.” He said without any trace of disappointment. “How long will it take you?”

 

“Probably another twenty minutes, but…”

 

“Okay.” He responded and she hurried on: “Or I could pull over into an alley somewhere here. It’s raining hard, so nobody will be walking by.”

 

Guy gave out a hearty laugh, and she joined in, whether out of amusement or embarrassment, she wasn’t sure.

 

“Nah!” he said and his voice softened. “Daddy wouldn’t want his baby girl to get in trouble, now would he?”

 

The first time he called himself her daddy and her his little girl she didn’t like it. It was wrongfully perverse and a definite turn off. The next time he did it, she didn’t mind it as much. Now, she absolutely longed to hear it. It gave her that special warm feeling of familiarity, as if someone really cared, no matter the implications. She was good at blocking out the bad and accepting the good. Life had taught her that much.

 

“Yeah, I know, but….” She protested.

 

“I know, darling. I know.” He assured her with a chuckle. “I want you on the bed, though. Daddy wants his little girl on the bed and in a thong. Hot pink thong and with toys.”

 

Those simple words, so meaningless and absurd if anybody else was to speak them have made her shift in discomfort. She had been aroused for a few hours now; the damp warmth between her legs turning into itchiness. She needed to get home and relieve her body.

 

She agreed. Of course it was preposterous to think that she would be pulling into an alley and masturbating, risking a chance of being seen. She thought of the previous week, when he got her all hot through e-mails and when he realized just how turned on she became, he told her to go into her car. She pulled out of the private parking spot, tucked safely under the big roof to fight off the weather and drove to the very end of the lot, surrounded by tall birches and overgrown bushes on two sides, the other two facing an expressway and a main street.

 

She parked into the very corner where the two forested lines met, silently praying that there were no hidden cameras mounted on the streetlights behind her. She turned off the engine and waited. Seconds later the phone rang and Guy’s soft voice led her to ecstasy that she had become so familiar with. She pushed her hand through the open zipper of her jeans and slid it inside the panties, trying hard to move only her fingers, facial expression somber, just in case an uninvited pair of eyes was watching.

 

Nobody walked by and she managed to swallow the scream that she so longed to let out at the moment of bliss. A deep sigh was all that escaped her and she knew that he was aware of the achieved by her breathing alone.

 

She felt silly afterwards. She always felt like that when she finally got off the phone with Guy, but the moments when they were interacting were nothing but ecstasy.

 

“I’ll call you in about twenty minutes.” Guy finished and she could do nothing but agree, and try to reach her apartment in time.

 

She closed the flip phone and carefully laid it next to her on the passenger’s seat, stealing a glance in the mirror. The long hair was dirty, desperately in need of dying to hide the premature grayness, which first showed in her early twenties. Face gaunt and pale, dark circles under the eyes revealing many a late nights, some due to insomnia, others simply to worries which kept her from peaceful rest. Certainly not a beauty, but if she was to wear make up, she might look good.

 

She didn’t see any of that, however. The only thing that she did notice were her eyes sparkling in anticipation and a smug grin lingering on her lips. Being naughty was always a turn on. For a woman who always tried to avoid any kind of danger or confrontation, she was certainly taking great risks at times.

 

She turned the radio button and cut off the blast of modern music by pushing the cassette tape in its place. The haunting sound of Spanish flamenco ballad, saturated with passionate voices of Gypsy Kings levitated through the air.

 

“I wonder what would he think of me if he ever met me in person?” she thought, her eyebrows rising in puzzlement. She was not quite as young as he normally liked, that much she figured out from their conversations but that didn’t really bother her. Some of her friends, who were stunning beauties in high school now looked like washed out middle aged women. She didn’t kid herself about looking young, but she still managed to turn a man’s eye.

 

She never quite gathered up the courage to send him her picture, although he did ask for it, but only once. She told him she’d do it when she was ready and he never pressed the issue again. He however, had no problems with e-mailing his. A charming looking man in his early fifties with salt and pepper hair, dressed in a suit and tie.   She chuckled over his attire; yuppies and businessmen were never her type. But she had to admit that he was very handsome.

 

Before she met her father for the first time in her mid twenties, she always pictured him looking like that. Instead, she was greeted by an impossibly tall and painfully thin man with a faraway look that made him appear disinterested in everything. Later she learned that he was almost blind, thus his appearance of detachment, but the first impression was made and she never liked him, she never thought he was paying her any attention. His feelings for her were that of dislike, as well. She would be willing to wager on it.

 

Guy reminded her of her best friend’s father. Tall and handsome, soft spoken, always attentive and kind. She winced and looked around as if watched by a pair of invisible eyes. Of course she had never lusted over her friend’s dad, he was just…. well…her dad.  

 

She wondered if Guy even knew her name any longer. She used an alias when logging onto the erotic stories sites, which is where he found her address and got in touch with her. She gave him her real name and didn’t lie about her age, which when communicating with people online was normally not the case. He never said her name out loud on the phone, though and that made her wonder. At the end of the day, she didn’t really care.

 

Despite the almost daily e-mailing between them and weekly, or in the worst case monthly phone calls, she always found herself thinking back to the day when he first contacted her. It had caught her completely off guard. The introduction to the ‘new man in her life’ was always the clearest of memories when she thought about Guy. She was stunned when a few months back there was a message in here e-mail inbox from a sender whose name she didn’t recognize. Signed by Guy, he explained that he had found her name on one of the sites, which were her secret and guilty pleasure, and would she like to role-play sometime. Specifically, he said he could be her daddy or grandpa.  

 

A prank, perhaps? Somebody in someway trying to get a hold of her information? It didn’t seem like that and despite the obvious nature of the e-mail, it intrigued her. Contrary to what she would normally do, this one she did not ignore. She wrote back: ‘You’ve got the wrong impression.’ The nerve of man, indeed.

 

A day later, another e-mail by Guy stated his apology if he had offended her as this was not his intention.  

 

‘I wasn’t offended,’ was all she wrote in reply, adding her instant messenger name at the bottom and that was how it all started. Later that same day they instant messaged each other for almost three hours and she found herself telling him things that she had either never told anyone, or it has been so long ago that she had forgotten all about it.

 

He told her he wanted her to slip her hand inside her panties and masturbate for him. He wanted her to touch and panty fuck herself, he told her not to come yet and then he wanted her to come right then, together with him. It was a hot September day and the arousal had poured perspiration beads all over her body. She trembled like a leaf in a cold breeze. The bottoms of her bra cups were drenched in sweat.  

 

To her amazement, she did exactly as he told her to do. It was not her way of pleasing herself in that manner, but knowing that this was dictated by another person, no matter how far away, faceless and strange had made her half mad with desire.

 

It had taken her much longer than usual to bring herself on the brink of orgasm, and just as she was about to shiver in the desired ecstasy, she turned her head and glanced out the window only to see her husband parking the car three stories below, returning from work earlier than she had anticipated.

 

She panicked and for a moment grabbed onto the computer desk as if she was ready to flee. Her eyes returned back to the monitor and words ‘Come now, come with me…’ finally pushed her into the head spinning shiver. Now kneeling on the soft carpet, she whispered ‘yes, oh yes’, regretting Guy couldn’t hear her.

 

‘Got to go, talk to you later’, was all she managed to type and click off he messenger window as Sam was walking through the front door, while her body was still shivering with the just experienced pleasure.

 

Her face must have been glowing and guilt was probably plastered all over it, too. He came into the room and gave her a puzzled look.

 

“What?” she asked and couldn’t keep herself from smiling.

 

Sam smiled back and peeped over her shoulder, onto the blank e-mail window, which she managed to open up just as he was approaching. “What are you doing?” he asked with a look of suspicion.

 

“Nothing!” she said and still the smile wouldn’t fade away. “What?” she asked again.

 

He bent over to her and cringed his nose. “You smell funny.” He concluded, which almost made her holler in laughter.

 

“Well, yeah!” she said as if he was stating the obvious. “It’s hot in here and I’m musty.” His eyes narrowed. “I just came back from a jog, too.” She lied.

 

That seemed to satisfy him enough to lose interest in questioning and go to the kitchen to browse for dinner. She sighed with relief. That was so close! It was the smell of sex that oozed out of her every pore, but Sam, not anticipating anything like that taking place couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

 

She couldn’t sleep that night. Despite the relief that she had given herself while talking to Guy on the computer, her body remained aroused and the unseasonable heat of the Indian summer didn’t make it any better. She tossed and turned, trying to force herself to catch some sleep. The last time she glanced at the clock was almost four in the morning and two hours later the alarm went off, jerking her out of uneasy dream.

 

She drove to work, still in the state of high arousal, thinking of Guy and whenever she pictured the words ‘Come now, come with me….’ on her computer monitor, she felt as if somebody had punched her in the stomach. She was ashamed and yet exhilarated. She had never done anything like this before.   In fact, she used to smirk over the stories of Internet affairs that people led, always finding them distasteful and pathetically desperate. Of course, that morning she believed this had been a one-time occurrence never to be repeated.

 

She returned home that evening, after a day from hell at work, coupled by her body’s insistent refusal to calm itself down, she found Guy waiting for her on the instant messenger.

 

‘Give me your number.” He wrote and a voice of panic in the back of her mind told her not to be stupid and give in to his demands.

 

‘You have to promise you won’t abuse it.’ She begged, all the while thinking that this was far from any kind of rationality she was always so good at exercising. Guy reassured her he would never do such a thing. After all, they were both married. There was a lot at stake, he would never call her unless she told him it was okay and the coast was clear. A pang of guilt stabbed at her. She ignored it.

 

Despite her better judgment, she typed in the number, with Sam lounging on the bed only inches away from her, watching television.

 

‘Wait five minutes, I’ll take dogs for a walk.’ She added.  

 

Outside, the humidity had given way to soft breeze and each stroke of cool lick made her shiver in discomfort. It has been more than a day since Guy had aroused her with his words on the computer screen and her body still did not lose any of its sexual heat. She would not have believed that something like that was possible, but she was a living proof. She was also an example of how uncomfortable and almost painful it is for every fiber in one’s body to be itching and pulsating for one thing and one thing alone.

 

The phone rang and she took a deep breath, closing her eyes for an instant, momentarily weighing the decision not to answer. She clicked the ON button and said ‘Hello’.

 

“What’s happening?” said a velvety voice on the other side, which by now she learned was a signature greeting of Guy’s. They chatted for a few minutes, awkward silences breaking her thoughts, making her forget a million questions that she had had for him. It was just a normal, uncomfortable first conversation that two people might have.

 

The most important thing that she got out of the conversation was that it had oddly calmed her down. When she returned from walking her dogs she noticed that the nervous tremble, which had been present for most of the day seized. She felt cool and collected, satisfied and happy. When she went to bed that night, she fell into a dreamless and peaceful oblivion.

 

The long blow of the car horn jerked her back into the present time. She looked around in confusion as if she had just woken up and realized that she was the first in line at the traffic light, which had turned green who knows how many seconds ago.

 

She stepped on the gas and flipped the finger to the driver behind her. Sam has been warning her against it ever since she had learned how to drive. ‘One of these days,’ he said, ‘you will run into some idiot who will not put up with your birdie flipping, foul mouthing, ignorant ways’.

 

Of course she knew he was right, but she couldn’t help herself. Sometimes, she was worried that in her rage she might floor the accelerator and slam into the car that was jumping the line or help silly teenagers cross the street faster, after she had just kindly stopped for them and instead of appreciatively hurrying along, they’d be walking as if in a stoned haze, girls swaying their hips like on a catwalk.

 

Another glance at the dashboard clock told her she would not make it in time. The traffic moved too slowly and the rain seemed to be coming down harder than ever. “Damn it!” she shook the wheel in frustration as if trying to rip it out of its place. “Come on, already! She yelled and squeezed the stirring wheel hard, accidentally blowing the horn.

 

“Oops!” she giggled and noticed the driver of the car in front inspecting what was happening behind him in the mirror. He flipped her a finger and she flipped him one back.

 

“Asshole.” She said, well aware that it was not his fault they were stuck.  

 

She pulled onto her street, frantically looking for a parking space. There were many available but all were accompanied by parking meters, which would mean that she would have to come down every couple of hours and feed hers with quarters. If she was to have a bit of a naughty with Guy on the phone, she knew that afterwards she would take a catnap, with a good possibility of it turning into a dreamless sleep that might last for hours.

 

Spotting an empty space in the alley she had just passed, she flicked the turn signal on and at the very last moment turned right, cutting off the approaching vehicle, making a half U-turn, tires screeching with the driver of the car slamming on breaks wildly, honking his horn and screaming something at her furiously, although she could not make it what it was. She had a pretty good idea of the content, though.

 

With trembling hands and pounding heart she managed to avoid the collision and pull into the alley. “You need to get off that sugar diet, buddy.” She said into the mirror, the comment directed towards the driver that she had so rudely cut off, putting in danger more than just herself.

 

She didn’t have the time to park the car properly. The right back tire hit the sidewalk and she floored the gas pedal enough to make the car jump the curve and rest there like a casualty of a drunkard. The front of the car was hanging half way out of the neat line of parked cars that she had just joined, but she didn’t care. No time to straighten it up now.

 

She turned the engine off, barely remembering to pull the key out of the ignition and bolted out of the car. She ran towards the front door of her building, clutching her purse close to her body. As she slid the key into the lock, she realized that she couldn’t tell for certain whether in her haste she had managed to lock the car door. Despite the fact that the neighborhood where they lived was a fairly safe one in Chicago, an unlocked car would be more than an invitation for thugs anywhere in the city.

 

She ran back to the car, and on the verge of tears realized that she did lock it up after all. She sighed in disbelief. How could a man she had never met face to face turn her into such an idiot? Of course she knew how. The sexuality and passion that oozed out of his voice alone always made her mad with desire and forget about anything else.

 

She checked her phone. It has taken her longer to reach the house than she had anticipated and the state she was in, every fiber of her body in nervous anticipation, coupled by a blasting Latino music, she could miss the call without noticing. She sighed in relief to see that there were no missed calls.

 

She made her way into the house and as she was taking the stairs two at the time, she heard her dogs barking at the apartment door. They recognized the familiar jingle of the keys and were eager to hear her voice and feel her hand petting their beautiful heads in greeting.  

 

She unlocked the door and squeezed herself into the apartment, careful not to let the dogs escape out and create havoc in the hallway.

 

“Hello, babies! Hello, pumpkins! Hello, munchkins!” she kept murmuring, absentmindedly stroking the dogs’ backs and at the same time unbuttoning her shirt. She knew she only had seconds to prepare before the inevitable and much anticipated phone call took place.

 

The bulldog, mad with happiness upon her early return kept jumping up and down like a yoyo, while the small pit bull whined softly over too vague of an attention he had received.

 

“Go to your bed, now.” she commanded and both dogs stopped and stared for a moment as if weighing her words. She had just come home and is already sending them to bed?

 

She felt a pang of guilt, but at this time there was no space for regrets. She will make it up to them later, Guy won’t take too much of her time.

 

“What did I just say?” she asked and stared hard at two pairs of big brown eyes until they submitted and slowly, with their tails between the legs trotted to their doggie beds.

 

She kicked off her shoes, letting the shirt and jeans fall over them in a disarray that she had hated more than anything. Yet again, there was no time for neatness. Still in her bra and panties, she crawled into bed. Guy always liked her wearing the thong, but having to sit still in front of the computer for over eight hours a day, this would be the least appropriate of choices.

 

She stacked up four pillows as a makeshift back support, leaning against it with a sigh. The realization that she had forgotten the most important of things made her bolt from under the covers and reach for the bag, which was laying discarded on the floor, next to the pile of her clothes. She rummaged through the small brown pouch in the front and pulled out a cell phone, shaking her head over the forgetfulness.

 

Returning to bed she closed her eyes, trying not to doze off. She hadn’t realized how exhausted she felt until the very moment she laid her head onto the soft heap of pillows. She called out to her dogs in an attempt to kill the time while waiting and to make up for her distant behavior upon entering the apartment.

 

Not surprisingly, they didn’t come immediately. Whether they were cautious or simply insulted, she didn’t mind their reluctance. She opened her eyes and sat up, leaning against the pillows.

 

She thought of Guy. What an odd relationship this was, if it could be called relationship at all. Was she in love? Of course not. Sam was her love now. He was not exactly the love of her life, that place belonged to someone else. Someone from long time ago and far away, so distant that she hasn’t thought about him in a long time. Still, feelings for Sam were so intense that if they were to break up, she would never feel so strongly towards anyone else again. She would not let herself get that involved anymore. Were there feelings involved with Guy? Well, she might call it a schoolgirl crush. It was probably due to a simple fact that she lacked friends in Chicago and Guy’s attention for her was a replacement for it.

 

Pit bull was the first one to give in and jump on the bed, slowly, with almost catlike movements approaching her.

 

“Hello, baby,” she said softly, enjoying his tail’s wild wag in greeting. “Come here, then.” She said and pulled him closer to her, making him lay next to her, pressing his head against her side.

 

“Tell mama, how’s life?” she voiced the same question that she had asked him almost every day in the times of quiet bonding. “What’s the news of the day?” she went on and the beautiful dog licked his lips in satisfaction over her undivided attention.

 

“Was your sister good?” she asked and as if knowing that the word applied to her, the bulldog jumped on the bed, too, carelessly making her way towards the cuddling couple, stepping on their legs and stomachs as if they weren’t there. “Did she bark a lot?” she whispered in the pit’s ear, making him lift his head and give her a quick licking kiss on the cheek.

 

The bulldog plopped on the bed next to the pillows and carefully smelled her hair. “Don’t do that!” she pushed the big head away from her. “Were you a good girl today?” she asked the bulldog and the big white tail wagged heavily, hitting the mirrored headboard and threatening to send the empty soda can flying off the nightstand on the other side of the bed.

 

The theme of a movie from long ago rang out through the quiet room and she jumped up.

 

“Get off, get off!” she said hurriedly, pushing the dogs off the bed, trying hard to ignore their accusatory looks. “Come on, get off!” she yelled, reaching for the phone.

 

She waited for another second or two, making sure to catch the call before it went into voicemail. She smiled and opened it up.

 

“Hello, darling.” She said and half slid down the pillows into a more comfortable position. Her legs slowly spread themselves open, without her even realizing that Guy’s voice would always manage to turn her into a bundle of lust.

 

“Hello, darling.” Was the response.   “Home yet?”

 

She nodded and quickly added: “Yes, made it finally.”

 

“Good!” he chuckled. “Are you in bed?”

 

“Yes.” She breathed heartily.

 

“In your thong?”

 

“Of course!” she lied.

 

“The pink one?”

 

“Aha.” She closed her eyes and thought of the hot pink thong she had told him she was wearing.

 

“Are you ready, baby girl? Are you ready for your daddy to fuck you?” he asked sweetly.

 

“Yes,” she whispered and reached with her hand down the belly and pressed her fingers over her crotch. “I’m ready!”

 

in Europe. How could I explain it to them, though? They would never understand. Their honeymoon in Mexico and mom’s second one in Italy with George was the peak of sophistication as far as they were concerned. To completely abandon ones entire family and friends only to live out of a suitcase and be a stranger wherever one went was beyond their comprehension.

 

They enjoyed my tales of old towns and cities in England and Greece, small villages in Scotland and Ireland and my mom even found Morocco to be more than just a hellhole on the map; still, I don’t believe I quite persuaded them of the intoxication one experiences when one leaves a small, oppressive, ‘friendly’ town and heads out into the big wide world.

 

They also failed to understand how I could have returned to the States and heading for Chicago, enrolling in college there rather than somewhere closer to home. As far as they are concerned, we’re talking about another hellhole on the map.

 

They have been taking turns keeping their eyes on me for the past three days, after which I was finally able to make a phone call without their suspicious glances following me, as if I was just about to dash out of the house never to return.

 

I knew Janie’s mom had passed away about a year after I left, and occasional letters that I received from my friends in Europe have told me that things in everybody’s lives were changing very rapidly. A few months away from home I began feeling like I couldn’t catch up anymore, things have been different for all of us. I never called any of my friends in four years, occasionally mailing a postcard, just so that they would know I was still thinking of them. I don’t believe they knew quite how often they all crossed my mind.

 

On the third day after I returned home, I finally gathered enough courage to call Janie, somewhat surprised, but pleased that the phone number had not changed. My mom told me that after her mother’s death, Janie and her father have finally moved to a new house, which had been a plan when we were still in high school.

 

“Hey!” was all I said and Janie screamed in delight. It felt good to be remembered so well.

 

She was so happy I called. What? I was at home? Oh my god, now she was really happy! She doesn’t have time to talk; she is on her way out the door as we speak. She is sitting for an exam, a really hard one, so she shouldn’t be late. Yeah, college is a drag, but it’s not all that bad really. She should be back in the afternoon. I absolutely have to come and we’ll go out and find other girls. But she’ll be back at four and do I know where she lives now? Yeah, I should come by exactly at four and we’ll hang out. And by the way, she’s pissed at me for not keeping in touch, but she’s very happy I called!

 

The avalanche of words seized as I hung up, memories of the past slowly creeping into my head. We had some good times together. I was glad I was about to see her again.

 

I made a few more calls to my old friends, but just like Janie, most of them were at colleges or their summer jobs and I didn’t get to talk to anyone else. The time seemed to slow down that day and I found myself antsy with anticipation of meeting my best friend again.

 

She showed me around her new home, which is absolutely amazing. Her dad, an architect, has decorated the entire place himself and the effect is astonishing. Unbelievable colors on the walls, furniture of unconventional shapes and sizes, abstract paintings, bowls of fruit, flowers and plants everywhere – her home looks like something out of a magazine. I have to admit I felt a bit envious at one point. Then, I remembered which town this beautiful home is in and my envy evaporated. No matter how stunning the house, I wouldn’t want to live here again.

 

As I sat in Janie’s bedroom, watching TV while she was taking a shower I was startled by a sudden appearance of her dad in the door. I didn’t hear him enter the house; his steps drowned by the running water in the attached bathroom and the TV sounds.

 

“Hello!” I said and he smiled. Still the same Mr. Davey I remembered. No grayness to be seen in his dirty blond hair, tall and sporty, his eyes full of mischief. When we were kids, Janie’s dad was the most fun of all our parents. He was always late bringing everybody home after soccer practices, having taken us to the local ice-cream parlor. He always cheered the loudest at our games, laughed the hardest at our jokes and tales of childish escapades.   He dressed the coolest and listened to the same music as we did, never minding the loud volume, which would have made any other parent delicately point out that the neighbors will complain and would we please turn it down. Still the same, handsome Janie’s dad. I have always suspected most of her friends, including myself, have had a secret crush on him. Of course, we couldn’t discuss something like that in her presence. Danielle and I have had a few heart-to-heart talks, though.

 

“Well, I’ll be damned.” He said and walked into the bedroom. “Nikkie?”

 

“Yes,” I smiled and he approached me, offering his hand in greeting.

 

“When did you come back?” he asked and sat down on the bed next to me, very predictably smelling of the most intoxicating cologne a man could find.

 

We chatted for a while and I found myself staring into his eyes, trying to see him as Janie’s dad, a guy who used to make sure I only got chocolate ice cream, no sprinkles or nuts, exactly as I liked it.

 

“You look good, Nikkie.” He said and my thoughts of him being my friend’s dad went out the window.

 

“You do, too, Mr. Davey.” I said and returned a top to bottom stare that he had just given me, nodding my head. I couldn’t believe I just did a little flirt.

 

“Oh, please. Sean, just call me Sean.”

 

The water in the bathroom stopped running and we could hear banging of the shower door as Janie was coming out to dry herself off.

 

“I’m in here, Janie!” yelled Sean towards the bathroom. “So, come out decent.”

 

Just before Janie re-entered the room, her dad got up and walked to the desk beneath the window, leaning against it, smiling at his daughter as she came into view. He asked her about her exam and she told him that we were just about to go out and meet with other girls. He insisted that he would fix us a quick dinner first; he was starving and did not want to eat alone.

 

I felt sorry for him. Janie’s parents always seemed to get along so well, his wife’s death must have been devastating. I didn’t remember Janie mentioning him having a girlfriend, but then, we didn’t get that far yet.

 

Janie rolled her eyes and with an air of great drama agreed.

 

“And while you’re drying your hair and getting ready, Nikkie here will come with me and help me, won’t you Nik?”

 

My heart skipped a beat and I looked at Janie. “Yeah, you might as well. He’s always making me help.” Said Janie with a pretence annoyance. “You better be careful to cube and dice all vegetables the same size, or you’ll be in trouble. You know how those architects can get.” She giggled and her dad waved her finger at her.

 

When I entered the kitchen, I found myself in every woman’s heaven . Everything in it was ocean blue. The walls, cabinets and the wooden floor were all the same shade of blue. Even the refrigerator was painted blue. Pans were hanging off the huge rack above the island in the middle of the kitchen, with its sides covered in tiles of various blues.

 

“Wow!” was all I could say. “You sure know your business, Mr. Davey.”

 

“Sean, call me Sean.” He nodded towards the pantry. “Get some veggies, would you, please?”

 

As I was cutting up carrots and lettuce, I plunged into deep thought and for a moment forgot where I was. Then I looked up and found Sean staring at me intently, his hands frozen in midair as he was reaching for one of the pans.

 

We stared at each other and I could not look away. I felt heat slowly rising in my face. Did I just catch Janie’s dad checking me out? Did he catch me checking him out a little while ago when he was bending over the chair to pick up a knife that he accidentally dropped? His body was certainly worthy of a second look.

 

The sound of Janie’s footsteps brought us back from a moment that shouldn’t have happened and she joined us, happily chatting without noticing that anything out of the ordinary occurred. I stole a few glances towards Sean and more than once I found him looking back at me.

 

I was flattered, but I also felt mortified. What was I doing? I had been away for so long and the first thing I do when I come home is flirt with my friend’s father.

 

Dinner passed in relaxed conversation, with Sean asking me about Europe and Chicago and Janie about her exams. Janie filled me in on what has been happening to our friends, of course, only things that were appropriate to mention in front of her dad. I was certain the really dirty stuff will come out in the car or later on in the club that we were going hit.

 

After dinner, Sean was having a glass of wine with Janie and me dutifully sipping on soda. He half slumped in the chair as if to get more comfortable, and while stretching his legs foot touched mine. I felt like I had just been electrocuted. I jumped in my seat and quickly apologized for what was not even my fault. “Sorry, my feet are all over the place.”

 

I looked at Sean and found him staring squarely at me, almost oblivious that his daughter was sharing the table with us. The touch was obviously no accident. I turned towards Janie and with great relief realized that she had been looking around for something on the counter, unaware of yet another intimate moment between her father and I. “Don’t be a stranger, Nikkie.” Said Sean as we were leaving and I smiled shyly.

 

We spent the night in the club, drinking heavily like we weren’t allowed to do in Janie’s house, gossiping and just having good time. My thoughts, however, kept returning to Sean, to his intense stares, to his touch and I felt flabbergasted by my reaction to it all. I decided I wouldn’t go to Janie’s house again. I only had another week at home, staying away from there wouldn’t be that hard.

 

Janie worked the following afternoon, trying to save money for the holiday, which was coming up in a couple of weeks.

 

That day I went to the local library to pick up some books for my mom and on my way back had taken a detour, finding myself in front of Janie’s house, noticing that her dad’s car was in the driveway. I paused by the row of neat, low bushes, uncertain if I had enough courage walk up and ring a bell.

 

My dilemma was solved when the front door opened and Sean stood there, waving at me. He was saying something that I couldn’t understand. With the legs as heavy as led, I walked up the path towards the house.

 

“Hello, Nikkie!” he smiled. He seemed to appear more handsome every time I saw him.

 

“Hi.” Was all I could say, I was afraid my voice would tremble if I attempted to say anything more.

 

“Janie is not here.” He said and I simply nodded. The moment of awkward silence settled between us, and without another word he stepped inside the house, holding the door open for me to follow. I did.

 

We walked into the kitchen and he reached into the funky blue fridge, bringing out a bottle of white wine. “Share some?” he asked and I nodded, still unable to speak. “Grab a couple of glasses.” He pointed towards the glass cabinet next to me and walked out. I did as he said and followed quickly. I wasn’t sure where he’d go and I didn’t want to play hide and seek.

 

I found him waiting in the hall and he nodded towards the archway opening with no door, which lead to a spartanly decorated white room, almost every piece of furniture covered with drawings and blueprints, obviously his own work.

 

“My study.” he said. “I like to take a break in the afternoon and have a glass of wine or go for a walk. It clears my head enough to be able to keep going until Janie comes home.”

 

I felt sorry for him. His life obviously completely evolves around his daughter and from what she told me, she was leaving home in a year to try her own luck in the world. What will he do without her?

 

Sean removed a few huge sheets of see-through paper from the desk and motioned for me to put the glasses down, handing me a bottle. While I was pouring, ever so careful not to spill anything on the desk or any of his drawings, he also cleared the papers and books off a kidney shaped couch with no backrest.   

 

I turned around to hand him wine and found him sitting on the couch as if in a saddle, one leg on each side. He accepted the offered glass and patted the seat in front of him. “Come, join me.”

 

With wobbly knees and barely enough strength to take two steps, I did. We sat there for a few minutes in complete silence, sipping the wine and savoring its sweet taste.

 

I would not want to be as presumptuous as to claim I knew for certain what was in his mind but I could pretty much tell that his thoughts were the same as mine. He was so handsome, so kind and he showed a genuine interest in me, I wanted to do more than just sit around and drink. I believed he was struggling with the same.

 

“Why are you here?” he broke the silence, startling me. I shrugged my shoulders as if I had no answer to that, avoiding his eyes, suddenly frightened that I might have figured this whole situation completely wrong. To make a fool of oneself in front of a stranger is one thing, to do so in front of my friend’s dad, that was a whole different ballgame.

 

“You don’t know?” he asked and I finally gathered the courage to look into his eyes. He held the glass of wine between his legs, slowly tipping it from side to side, his gaze sternly holding mine.

 

I leaned towards him, offering my face, my lips almost touching his. I paused like that, my eyes half closed, still able to see that his eyes did not close. He sat motionless and I feared this was the moment of foolishness that I was freaking over before.

 

Then, I felt his breath on my lips, rapid and shallow, telling me that it was not foolishness that made him freeze, but the uncertainty. I finally pressed my lips against his and they were the softest I have ever felt. Seconds passed with us sitting on the couch, leaning towards each other, only our lips touching. Then, his hand found my face, reaching farther up to my hair, his soft kiss becoming more passionate. His lips parted, his tongue found his way between mine, brushing against my tongue and my teeth.

 

His chest raised heavily as if he had just ran a mile, making me moan and join in his labored breathing.

 

As much as I want to remember every second that I have shared with Sean, there seem to be moments, even minutes that are completely blanked out of my mind. I don’t remember having the glass of wine taken away from me. I don’t recall his fingers, or maybe my own unbuttoning my shirt, but I do remember him slowly pulling it off my shoulders and cupping my breasts through the bra, gently squeezing them.

 

I wished for something softer than the otherwise comfortable couch we were sitting on and as if reading my mind, he got up, took my hand and led me through the house, up the stairs and into his bedroom, which I later on realized was another victorious triumph of architecture. At the moment of my entrance, though, all I could think about was Sean, blind to the beauty around me.

 

He sat on the bed and pulled me to him, nestling me between his legs. My bra, jeans, panties and running shoes were off in no time; I can’t remember the sequence of it exactly.

 

Sean’s hands were running up and down all over my body. Across my belly, gently squeezing my butt cheeks, down the thighs and tickle behind the knees, up over the hips, landing on my breasts, squeezing them as gently as the butt, farther up to my neck, encircling it as if in a strangle hold, pulling me towards him, sucking his lips onto mine.

 

Sure I had my fair share of sex over the past four years since I lost my virginity, but never did I feel so uninhibited, free and unembarrassed. I stood in front of a man, stark naked, not worrying about how   I looked. He made me feel like I was the most beautiful woman in the world at that moment and the worshipful looks that he was giving me were making me feel very hot.

 

I tried to slip past him and lay on the bed, but he stopped me. “Not yet.” He whispered, holding onto my hips, preventing me from moving. I could see a bulge in his pants and wished to unzip them and reach inside, but yet again, he brushed me off.

 

“Put your leg here.” He patted a spot next to where he sat on the bed and I did as he told me. I held onto his shoulders for balance, afraid that my legs would not hold me up for much longer.

 

I stood in front of him, naked and spread wide open, one leg between his legs, the other one with sole flat on the bed, his hands running up and down my thighs, making me shiver and twitch, seemingly without control. I could barely catch my breath when he pushed his face between my legs and his tongue touched my clitty. Just a soft brush first, sending a wave of pleasure from the sensitive spot throughout my body; I could feel the tingles in my arms and face, my feet and everywhere else.

 

He sucked onto my clitty, one hand reaching over my belly and pinching my nipple, the other wrapping over my butt, holding me still and at the same time supporting my weight, as I thought I was ready to fall down at any given moment.

 

He kept sucking and licking between my legs, my hands on his shoulders, playing with a string of too long blond hair, at one point pulling it too hard. He jumped and hissed. “Hey, easy now!” I giggled and he grinned back at me, returning his full attention to my clitty.

 

I have always needed a lot of attention of tongue and fingers from a man before I could cum, but with Sean, it took me bare two minutes and I grabbed onto his hair, this time without any protests, gasping for breath while I felt a wave after wave of pleasure surge through my body, Sean sucking as if his life depended on it, giving me more pleasure than I had ever had before.

 

As I came to my senses, I saw him looking into my eyes intently. He had managed to unzip his pants without me noticing and was now pulling them down awkwardly with one hand, the other one still caressing my body.

 

I have not had many orgasms this strong before, even the ones that I had evoked myself. I knew that I could have another one really soon, but I had to act fast. Taking a step back, I helped him with his pants, pulling them down together with his boxer shorts, not bothering with the t-shirt.

 

The size of his dick surprised me. It was bigger than anything I have ever seen in real life, much less felt inside me. Big and hard, he was obviously just as ready as I was.

 

“I can’t wait.” I whispered and pushed him away from me, making him lie down, his legs still dangling over the edge of the bed.   I wanted to take him into my mouth, instead I sat on top of him and carefully positioned his dick on my pussy, again noticing that his eyes have never left mine. I slid down slowly, pushing the entire length of his throbbing dick inside, taking a long breath, finally exhaling when I felt my body pressed against his pelvis.

 

I didn’t tell him what I wanted, but again it seemed as if he was reading my mind and knew exactly what I needed. He grabbed onto my shoulders and started fucking me hard, much harder than I had ever been fucked, and within a few thrusts I could feel the tingle in my pussy spreading to my belly and then throughout my body.

 

Somewhere at the back of my mind I had been aware that Janie might return home at any given moment, but I brushed those thoughts aside, surrendering my body to the pleasure completely, groaning in response to his movements and digging my nails into his forearms.

 

I cummed hard again, little spots dancing in front of my eyes, well aware that my face must have been an ugly mask of pleasure. I didn’t care what he thought. I trusted him enough to know that this would only make him feel even more aroused.

 

When I stopped shivering and his movements stopped he sat up, embracing me and flipping us both upside down so that he was on top.

 

“We fucked,” he said and I ran my hand over his handsome face. “Now, I want to make love.”

 

And that was exactly what we did. He was kissing my face, eyes, and my hair, slipping his tongue into my ear, making me shiver, inside my mouth, caressing my tongue and brushing against my teeth. His hands were running up and down my body constantly, never pausing for more than a moment, and then only to squeeze my breast, lift my butt towards him, push my legs further apart, never seizing to move his pelvis, gently pumping in and out of me, giving me a sense of belonging. He made me feel like I hve never felt before.

 

All of a sudden he pulled out of me and slid down my body, sucking onto my clitty again, his fingers deep inside my pussy, pressing against that delicate spot so many men are inclined to miss. I cummed again and all I wanted now was to do the same for him, take him in my mouth, squeeze his balls and watch him shiver in the same pleasure he had given me three times in a row.

 

He wouldn’t let me, though. He motioned to me to turn over and as I did, supporting myself on the knees, I only just noticed that the entire headboard was one huge mirror. He looked at me and smiled. “You’re so hot, Nik,” he whispered. “I knew you would be.”

 

I smiled back, my face cringing in pleasure as I felt him enter me from behind. “I’ve been thinking about this all day yesterday.” He said surprising me, even though I had suspected that was the case.

 

“I want you to cum with me, honey.” He said and I felt an instant cool off. I remembered how many times I have heard him call Janie his honey. Surely, this couldn’t be one of those projectory things; I looked at him in alarm.

 

“What?” he asked, noticing my confusion. I wanted to tell him why I freaked, but decided against it. This was too good to spoil and if I mentioned Janie, I chanced an abrupt ending. I knew he wasn’t a pervert, it was a slip of a tongue. He was just being nice.

 

“Nothing.” I said and pushed back against him. “I thought about you, too, Sean.”

 

He grabbed onto my shoulders again and the lovemaking from a minute ago was over. He fucked me hard and long, one arm on my shoulder, the other one wrapped around my hip, fingers drumming against my clitty, rubbing it, pulling onto it, making it feel like it was connected to a power surge of some sort.

 

“I want you to cum with me, Nik.” He whispered. “Tell me when…” I nodded. “I’ll wait, I want us to cum together.” he said and seeing his body blasting against mine had made me ready to cum right then.

 

I closed my eyes, concentrating on his movements, feeling each press against my clitty, trying to remember it forever. As I looked in the mirror again, I noticed that both of our faces were flushed deep red, veins standing out on our necks and foreheads. We were both ready.

 

“I’m cumming…” I whispered and he sped up, ramming against me so hard, I thought he would send me straight through the mirror. I saw him holding his breath, his face cringing, he tried to hold my gaze, but his eyes eventually closed and as I felt his dick throbbing deep inside of me, I exploded in the same pleasure that he was obviously feeling at that moment.

 

His dick was buried all the way inside of me, his torso slumped on my back, his strong arms hugging me so tight, I almost lost my breath. I could feel his hot sperm shooting in me, and his groans turned into loud gasps, making me join him and express my pleasure audibly.

 

My arms couldn’t support both of us any longer and I fell onto the bed, Sean following, still holding me tight, as if afraid I was going to run away.   As our bodies calmed and our breathing slowed down, I came to my senses, wondering what to do or say next.

 

“Oh, Nikkie,” whispered Sean, pulling me back into the sensual mood. I was grateful he did not simply jump off the bed and pull his clothes on, I would not be able to face him then.

 

“Let’s take a shower.” He offered and I wanted to accept, but now, the passion satisfied I started thinking of Janie.

 

“No, I have to go. I really do.” I said apologetically, squirming from under him.

 

“I know.” He said and smiled. He leaned over and kissed me hard, his hand finding my breast. I couldn’t go through this again, there might not have been enough time. I wanted to stay, cuddle with him in bed all evening, take a shower and make another dinner. But I knew better than that. I was certain he did, too.

 

With a heavy heart I got off the bed and dressed myself, not caring that his sperm was oozing out of me, probably creating a stain on my jeans. The shirt would cover any traces of our lovemaking.

 

I left Sean still in bed, having refused his offer to drive me home or at least walk me to the door. I ran out with a guilty feeling because of Janie, yet exhilarated over what just happened.

 

-------

 

I finished the diary entry and felt my heart beating as heavily as it did on the day when I left Sean’s house. I never saw him again, to my great disappointment, knowing it was better that way.

 

A few years later, my mom told me Sean had married someone I didn’t know. Apparently, she was a beauty and a true bitch. They didn’t last long.

 

To this day, I sometimes wonder what it would be like if I had stayed. Would we be able to overlook the fact that his daughter was my friend? Probably not. Would the small town forgive us? Definitely not. Most importantly, and I shiver to think about that question, is whether he would want to be with me again. I know I would have wanted it.

 

I suppose things turned out for the best. He is one of the very few guys that I think about sometimes, when alone in bed or bathtub, my hand reaches between my legs, I close my eyes and try to bring myself to the same level of pleasure that I felt the day when I made love to Janie’s dad.

 

I flipped through more pages, noting that the rest of the entries were much shorter than the first two I have read. I suppose they were more of a true diary scribbles, less of an attempt to mark down every single word, movement, smell and feeling.

 

I kept reading.

n 0in 0pt; text-align: justify"> 

His sense of humor, ability to listen and be attentive won me over eventually and we started spending more time together. We became friends first, lovers later. He was dating someone else when we met in one of our mutual classes, where we always sat next to each other, at first discussing the lessons, later on going out to lunch or to a movie and eventually, when he broke up with his girlfriend, one thing led to another and, well, after a party one evening, we ended up in bed.

 

Paul turned out to be a gentle lover, just as attentive in bed as he was in conversation. He liked kinky stuff like light bondage and blindfold. I trusted him immensely and never felt threatened.

 

I liked making love to Paul, especially when it turned into a hard fucking, and he lost himself in a moment completely, oblivious to anything around him, even myself. He would pound away furiously, unable to stop, probably even if the building was coming down.

 

Paul always seemed to be fascinated by anal sex, although he had never done it, and I had no experience in it, either. I began noticing that a great majority of the porn movies he was bringing to my place were turning out to involve anal sex, some movies were on that particular subject exclusively. We talked about it and decided that we would try it some day.

 

That some day actually turned out to be the evening of our talk. Of course, I sort of expected that to happen, but still, I was caught by surprise to a point and a bit worried. I kept thinking of Paul and the time just before he is ready to cum. I couldn’t see him go berserk on my ass like that and not hurt me.

 

Paul promised solemnly that he would be careful and would not do anything that would be uncomfortable to me. He even offered that I could take the vibrator we were sometimes using to spice up sex and try it on him.

 

We started off slowly, kissing and petting, Paul giving me oral sex and making me cum. It all started off very nice. After I had clamed down, he turned me over and started kissing my back, scratching it lightly with his nails, working his way down to my ass, spreading the cheeks and licking my little hole.

 

The feeling was odd, not very pleasurable, but the idea of what we were about to do was certainly very appealing and I found myself enjoying the action more than I expected I would.

 

Using KY jelly, he squirted some inside my ass and lubed his finger, gently and carefully inserting it inside of me. Again, the feeling was odd, beyond anything I had ever experienced, but it didn’t hurt so I didn’t stop him.

 

I noticed that Paul’s dick stood in a hard salute to me since the moment I agreed to try anal sex and I didn’t have to do anything else to keep him that way. He was too eager to get to the action to be able to let himself be teased any longer.

 

As we got to the intercourse part, however, Paul pushing his dick inside my virgin ass with less patience than he had ever displayed before, I started hurting more than I expected and after a few moans and cautions to please go slow, he finally buried his entire dick inside his desired destination.

 

Now that it was finally in, I couldn’t bear to think of it moving in and out, I most certainly didn’t want him losing his mind and fucking me hard like he normally did and to Paul’s great disappointment, I pulled away and we stopped.

 

He was kissing me later and reassuring me that it’s okay, but the disappointment on his face was evident. We tried to have sex in a normal way, but he couldn’t perform. I felt awful. I offered we should try again, but he declined of which I was grateful for. Even though I had his dick in my ass for less than a minute, I could still feel the discomfort which it had caused me.

 

We fell asleep that night, unsatisfied and both disappointed. Paul avoided spending the night in my place for a few days afterwards.

 

Christmas was just around the corner and Paul had left Chicago for home to spend a few days with his family, returning on Christmas Eve, determined to spend it with me, feeling sorry over my decision not to go to Oregon with him and absolutely refusing to go home to my family. I’ve been away from home for three years now and I am not ready to go back, yet. As annoying as the topic of Christmas was to me, I loved him for being so sweet and attentive.

 

“Santa Clause!” I heard him yell even before he opened the door and I was genuinely happy that he had returned in time to spend Christmas with me. I was down more than I had expected to be. The celebratory atmosphere of the festive season had gotten to me and I hated to see numerous shoppers running back and forth, carrying huge bags filled with presents, Christmas trees on every corner, Christmas music in every store, restaurant and even elevators. I was ready to scream!

 

He entered and we fell into an embrace, kissing passionately as if he had been gone for months, not less than a week. I noticed a small bag with images of little Santas dancing around a Christmas tree, accompanied by the necessary gift bag filling paper, undoubtedly containing my present.

 

“Later,” said Paul. “First, we’re going out to dinner.”

 

We splurged that evening, aware that restaurants were closing early that evening. We ate in Greek town and then walked some thirty blocks to my place, enjoying the unseasonably mild night, making the romantic evening perfect. We stopped at our friend’s dorm room, had a few drinks with people we knew from classes and finally headed to my little apartment, determined to spend the night in lovemaking, warming ourselves up by occasional stops to kiss and slip our hands inside each other’s coats, touching, rubbing, squeezing and giggling like kids. Life was good and I was happy.

 

When we entered the apartment, Paul took off my coat and with great ceremony presented me with the bag, which he had brought with him and I had to admit that I was absolutely dying with curiosity. Given that we were both students, poor as church mice, any kind of present was deeply appreciated.

 

Paul dragged me to bed where we sat down and I was finally allowed to look into the gift bag. I pulled out two presents.

 

“The green one first, Nik.” Said Paul and smiled mischievously.   “The red one later. That’s actually for both of us, maybe even more for me than you, but that one later, okay?”

 

I tore the green wrapping of a small box, my heart racing as I realized that it must have been containing jewelry, definitely way beyond Paul’s modest means. I was grateful already. I slowly opened the box and a beautiful golden pendant of a ram standing on its hind legs and kicking the front ones up high made me gasp.

 

“Oh, Paul!” I yelped, with great embarrassment realizing that I was just about to cry.

 

“I realize that this would be more appropriate for a birthday present, but I saw it and liked it, and thought you’d like it, too.”

 

The symbol of my star sign was absolutely gorgeous. I felt a pang of shame over my modest gift for Paul, a sweater I had knitted myself, which was still tucked somewhere in my closet, unwrapped.

 

“You like it?” he asked worriedly.

 

“Are you kidding? I love it!” I said and hugged him. Life indeed seemed to be good.

 

“Now the second one!” he said, fidgeting on the bed like a little kid.

 

I looked at the small package wrapped in the red paper, bigger than the first one. I tore the paper off with trembling hands, still completely impressed over the pendant and almost screamed in surprise.

 

“What is this?” I asked, knowing exactly what it was.

 

“It’s desensitizing cream, Nik. “ I closed my eyes. When Paul put his mind to something, there was nothing to persuade him otherwise. “We can try again, you know. It won’t hurt, Nik. Please?”

 

I gave in. How could I not? Paul make sure I was happy this particular Christmas, the least I could do is make him happy, too.

 

We undressed slowly. Paul taking my clothes off and kissing every newly unclothed part of my body. I did the same for him. He made me cum with his tongue and fingers. I made him hard with mines. We fucked for a while with Paul very carefully not going too far as he didn’t want to cum too soon and fall asleep. This was the moment in which he wanted to do it. If the moment was lost, it might never happen, or if it did, it wouldn’t feel as right as at this particular time.

 

Paul unscrewed the tube and used a generous amount of the cream to lube me up. I believe he put in three or four times more than required. He didn’t want to hurt me and at the same time was so eager to do what he fantasized about for so long, common sense went out the window for both of us.

 

“How does it feel?” he asked and I giggled.

 

“How do you think half of that tube feels in my ass?” Paul didn’t laugh. He was too concentrated on what he was doing.

 

He pushed his finger inside my ass, and I didn’t even feel it. He pushed a second one in, again I felt nothing. We tried it with a vibrator and this proved to be just as easy as the fingers, so with great hopes, Paul finally positioned himself behind me, kneeling on the bed and pushed his dick inside my ass.

 

I felt that, but still only just. It didn’t hurt at all, it wasn’t uncomfortable, and he wrapped his arm around my hips, with his fingers now carefully cleaned with a washcloth softly rubbing against my clitty.

 

He made me cum like that. Hearing his moans and groans, his heavy breathing and feeling his expert fingers on my bud was a blissful pleasure. He made me cum again and then again.

 

Some thirty minutes later, my legs stiff with the pressure of Paul’s heavy pounding against me, my stomach began cramping from the invasion deep inside my gut. He was very careful to clean his fingers but we had both completely forgotten that without use of a condom, he had desensitized himself as well as me and it had taken him close to an hour of labor to make himself cum. He enjoyed it throughout, he said later. We were both covered in sweat despite the chill in the room, and the bed was in a complete disarray.

 

Pillows and comforter had fallen off a long time ago. The sheet was pulled off the corners and was now half hanging off the bed, the two of us fucking like two rabbits on the naked mattress.

 

After a while, when I couldn’t stand him touch my clitty anymore, certain that he had left bruises all over my hips and shoulders, having clung to them desperately, he had finally let out that last groan of pleasure, which told me that he had cum. I couldn’t feel his dick throbbing or squirting.

 

“Fuck, Nikkie! That was good!” he said and all I could do was moan agreement. I vaguely remember him pulling the comforter off the floor and throwing it over us, and then we were both asleep.

 

As I am writing this, it’s the evening after our little escapade. I can barely walk. I spend half of the day in bed, the other half in the bathroom, sitting on the toilette, crying with pain that I felt from the previous night.

 

How could I have been so stupid? Why would I let him do that to me? To top it off, without a condom.   I’m not sure that the use of a rubber would prevent his feeling to evaporate, but now I think anything would have been better than what had happened.

 

Never again!

 

------

 

I laughed out loud as I finished reading. Never again, indeed! Of course I still have anal sex, but I have to admit that it had taken me years before I let myself do it again. Certainly not with Paul.

 

Poor Paul! He felt so guilty; I thought he would never make love to me again. Eventually, we slept together, but it never seemed to be as good as it used to be. We never tried anal sex again. A few months later, with exams taking all our time we gradually grew apart and one day he came to my place, looking sad and ashamed, admitting to dating someone else for a few months.

 

We broke up and I wasn’t surprised when I saw him at a party a few days later with his new love. A guy. That’s where his strong fascination with anal sex came from. I just hope his experience was better than mine.

ne of the moving boxes and since there were still a few that have not been emptied even after all this time, I believed it still might be there. Of course the old memories did not escape me, but I wanted to refresh them. I wanted to remember how my mind used to work and perceive life. I really yearned to see how much I have forgotten and how good my selective memory had become. Mike always claimed that I was an expert at remembering only what I wanted to.

 

I have to admit that despite loving Mike more than I had ever loved anyone in my life, there are moments when I daydream back into the past and think of previous relationships. Later on I might dismiss those thoughts as ludicrous, but in times of dwelling, my mood is dangerously aloof and should I have an opportunity to do it all over again with one or two lovers from my past life right there and then, I probably would.

 

Last week, we had decided that due to sharing our little home with three dogs and two cats, it was becoming too crowded, and we agreed to remodel the closed-in patio, which now served as a storage and dumping place and rebuild it into an additional room. We were to have a garage sale and get rid of as much junk as possible, and if lucky, make some money on the side, too.

 

Besides our workout equipment, which basically served as a dust collector, old clothes that were too small or too old to wear but still too dear to be discarded, some atrocious furniture, which we were simply too lazy to throw out, I had found three boxes from the time of our initial move, packed to the brim with books.

 

I dug into the boxes with great pleasure, as I had hoped to find books that I might want to re-read, and probably some that were never even cracked open, bought on one of my impulsive binges and stored for the later times when I would have more time to devote to them.

 

As I was emptying the last of the boxes containing old sci-fi novels, which I seriously suspected would be the first ones to be designated as items for sale the following weekend, to my great amazement, I saw my old diary, it’s cover faded and with traces of coffee stains, laying on the bottom, dusty and alone. My heart jumped with excitement and I eagerly took it out of its prolonged imprisonment, pressing it to my chest and closing my eyes in silent gratitude. It had an odd smell of staleness, the texture of its cover familiar to my fingers.

 

I had kept a meticulous diary when it was first given to me, after which it lay discarded for years. It had been a gift from my mother, who brought it from her honeymoon in Italy after she married my step dad George. It was a combination of an address book, diary and a notebook, the size of a big paperback and just as thick, and if I was to use it as a chronicle of my young life, I could have probably squeezed in a few years, because as a teenager I had allowed myself very little fun and didn’t date at all.

 

The cover of the book was a mixture of soft pastels; peach and pink running into pistachio green and baby blue. In the middle of the cover was an upright oval circle with the cartoon picture of Holly Hobbie, who at the time was the rave among young girls, just as Pokemon might be for kids today, or Jessica Simpson for the teenagers.

 

On my book, Holly is wearing a big blue sunbonnet and a patchwork pinafore, happily strolling through the meadow with a wicker basket hanging over her arm filled with what looked like small field flowers. The sweet innocence of the girl had reminded me of my early years with heavy nostalgia. The image itself made me miss my school friends, most of who still live in a small town thousands of miles away from Chicago where I had moved when I began college never to return. It made me miss my mom, who had since remarried for the third time, my ex-step dad George and his quiet kindness, my sisters Hope and Alison, who were always in my hair and on my case, feeling that the simple fact of being older than me allowed them to do so.

 

As I started college, I again made use of my diary, carefully documenting all my escapades, mainly with guys, turning my innocent little diary into an erotic confessionary, always terrified that a pair of uninvited eyes might take a peek.

 

I placed the book in my lap and opened it, immediately cringing in embarrassment. Over twenty years ago when I was fourteen, I had a huge crush on Rick Springfield, and his image was the first I saw. Actually, it must have been some thirty images of him, plastered all over the first two pages. Black and white pictures from the newspapers, colored ones from the magazines, overlapping in a shabby-chic array, which is very tiresome to the eye. Rick Springfield wearing a red leather jacket, Rick in a black T-shirt, Rick at a concert, caught in midair, kicking his legs to one side, his head flung back, clutching on a guitar, his long hair waving wildly, Rick on a motorcycle, Rick in doctor’s scrubs from the General Hospital, young Rick, older Rick, Rick wearing glasses, Rick wearing shades… Rick, Rick, Rick.

 

“Yuck!” I giggled. What was I thinking to be this obsessed by somebody who was not a reality, at least not to me?   No wonder I never dated properly!

 

I turned the page only to find more Rick, now becoming seriously annoyed over my own stupidity.

 

“Glad I’m over that one!” I chuckled, finally reaching the double page with no Rick’s pictures on it. Instead, the left side held two yearly calendars, 1981 and 1982, the opposite continued with calendars of 83 and 84, each one occupying half a page. There were no spaces for writing, just numbers; for each year, three months in a row, four in a column, Saturdays and Sundays in grey, weekdays in black and holidays in red. Many of the festive days I didn’t recognize and it dawned on me that they must have been Italian, therefore unfamiliar.

 

In May, June and July of 1981 I appeared to have been very conscientious, carefully circling five or six days in a row of each month with a red pen, obviously the days of my periods. After July however, there was no more markings until September of 1983, and they continued for another four months after which seizing altogether. I have never been consistent and disciplined with anything, even the tracking of my own periods. That is why I had so many scares later in life when I thought I was in my “safe” days and had had unprotected sex, only to sweat a number of sleepless nights, praying to God in whom I didn’t believe anyway, promising I’d do anything, just please, please, PLEASE, don’t let me be pregnant. The thought that I might be chancing something worse than pregnancy never occurred to me in those days.

 

I shook my head in disbelief and turned another page. Here, more detailed calendars began; the ones where each month takes the whole page, each day in a margin of its own, so that one can scribble in notes and reminders. Again, May and June of 81 were full, written all over with my awkward, still childish hand, using different colors, from red, blue and black, to green and purple, which at the time were the peak of sophistication for a teenager. Math test; History test; Chemistry test; English and German tests in one day. I wondered how I ever managed to keep my sanity with all this testing forced upon my obviously completely immature brain.

 

The rest of the notes were inevitably pertaining to birthdays, a very important event in a young girl’s life, especially her own. Danielle BD – January 23 rd ; Daria BD – March 9 th ; Cynthia BD – March 23 rd ; Bo-Jane BD – October 2 nd ; Janie BD – October 11 th ; Zora BD – October 22 nd ; Tania BD – October 24 th and then again 25 th . I was obviously not certain when Tania’s birthday was, and to this day I still don’t now. Mom BD – October 26 th ; Dad BD – December 25 th . Surprisingly, there were no notes on when my sisters’ birthdays were. They must have pissed me off enough not to include them with the rest of the gang in my precious book.

 

And of course, there was my birthday: Nikkie BD – April 4 th . Why I had to mark my own special day like that I cannot explain. It’s just something a teenage girl does. Call it egocentric but I’m almost willing to bet that if you peep into a diary of your little sister, your daughter or even in your own, in case you’ve saved it from a long time ago, theirs or your name would be proudly written in the margin which represented the happy day, probably using one of the cool colors, like green or purple. To my defense, I have also included names of the celebrities of whom I knew shared my birthday: Maya Angelou, Anthony Perkins, Christine Lahti and Muddy Waters. I was always most proud to point out that Miss Angelou was born on the same day as me! Muddy I only knew by name, but have gathered early in life that his music had made him a legend of blues, - or was it jazz? - and therefore decided to include him, too. Again, let’s not forget the teenage egocentricity.

 

I also wondered over the need to include the ‘BD’ after each name. Even after all these years, having missed some twenty celebrations of each of the people that I had so faithfully marked down, I still know their birthdays by heart. I might not always bother to call or send a card, but I do remember them on their special days. I glanced over August and cringed. Of course I couldn’t have missed Rick Springfield and his BD on the 23 rd !

 

After flicking through the margined calendars – there were only years 81 and 82, obviously book makers were hoping that a girl would either get too bored with that one and buy a new one, or worse still be so productive that she would completely fill it out and would absolutely need another – the part with addresses followed.

 

Half a page was devoted to each letter, X, Y and Z sharing the same half. Obviously, there are not too many people in the Italian world with first or last names beginning with those letters. My XYZ box only held one name, address and phone number – Zora. The friend with BD on October 22 nd .

 

I don’t remember drinking heavily at the tender age of fourteen, but should one browse through my address book, one would be certain that I had a serious problem with departmentalizing. I could tell which names were scribbled in first; they were all written in blue colored pen, each properly sorted by the last name and I must have put a lot of effort and care into my handwriting, as despite looking unaesthetic now, it appears to be somewhat consistent and eligible.

 

The next batch was sorted by the first names, handwriting already deteriorating, colors varying.

 

After getting tired of orderliness, I just wrote names as they came, filling out the blank spaces that were available, starting in the A box. Dolores Anderson, Cynthia Axelrod, Abigail Matthews, and Aimee Stephenson shared this particular space with Maryanne Pinsky, Laurie Kinnard and Xenia, whom despite the uniqueness of her name and all my best efforts, I cannot recall.

 

Personal information packed boxes all the way to and including F, after which only the names from the “first” and “second” batches, when I was still trying to maintain some kind of order were dotting the pages. I nostalgically noted that each name held one or at the most two phone numbers – home and maybe a second home if the person was a victim of divorced parents. No cell phone numbers present; early 80s were blessedly lacking those most convenient, yet annoying little suckers.

 

The most bizarre thing that I had noticed when skimming over the names of my friends was that they all lived on the same street as me, only one or two doors down, some even in my apartment building, which made careful marking of each address, including zip code completely redundant. I suppose in those tender years I still displayed the ambition for some sort of organized arrangement, which later in life I have never quite achieved.  

 

Again shaking my head in amazement, I quickly browsed through the address book pages until I came to the notebook part. A bust picture of smiling Rick Springfield, his perfect hair obviously fan blown with a painstaking care, his pearly whites sparkling with an unnatural glow, a trace of eyeliner and soft rouge nearly made me drop the book back in the box and forget about it forever. I remember this particular picture of Rick used to be my favorite.

 

Instead, I turned the page. In an obviously more mature handwriting, which I recognized as mine, but a few years older than the one used for address and BD entries, there were lists upon lists upon lists. Just as in my early teenage years I had been obsessed with addresses, which later on turned into compulsion to make extensive notes on things that I felt I needed to buy, read, research, record, and see. Also, there were lists of things I did – again, mainly books I have read and movies I have seen.

 

I have obviously just finished and been impressed with Philip Jose Farmer’s ‘Riverworld Novels Series’ and had planned to dig into Tolkien next. I have devoured volumes of Jean Plaidy books and was getting ready to read Victoria Holt afterwards – I cringed. Loving Stephen King, I have hoped that Clive Barker would turn out to be just as good if not better. Each title of the book that I had read had a little check mark next to it. I suspect that different colors used were some sort of color code, which would reveal of how good or bad I thought the story was, but I can’t remember the details of its legend now. The list of my favorite songs reads like a compilation of 80s music – Human League, Spandau Ballet, Soft Cell, Alison Moyet, and Eurythmics. Notably, American music was not very dear to my heart. Skipping over a few more pages of books, music and movies, which by now have revealed that my taste in written, sang and filmed art had been quite poor, I stumbled upon yet another list. This one made me shudder and then giggle.

 

A list of baby names. Despite the fact that even as early as my late teens I had decided that I didn’t want any kids – and have to proudly point out that this had been one of the very few things in life I had avoided to change my mind about – there were two full pages of boy and girl names. Saffron, Siobhan, Sinead, Taraya, Tamara, Tiyana and Tahar   – apparently very impressed by the names beginning in S or T; Maya, Farida, Farrah, Zala, Masika, Khepri, Anat, Matuya followed those, and the list went on and on. I was not even certain if they were all real names found in a book, or whether they were just a fruit of my imagination. I was not interested to put myself through the same torture with the list of boys’ names.

 

I flipped a few pages. Recipes – did I really believe I could learn the simple and yet complicated art of cooking? Most of the recipes had an accompanying marginal note of “difficult”.

 

I went forward. I stumbled upon a complete list of English kings and queens from 1250 AD to the present time. I vaguely remembered a paper that I had worked on for weeks regarding the subject.

 

I skipped on. My own makeshift vocabulary of words that I came across when reading and didn’t understand, their meanings and examples in sentences carefully jotted next to them. One of them being saturnine, a word that had a nice ring to my ear, even though its meaning was less than cheerful.

 

I went forward. Another list of books, this one for the curriculum requirement. Dostoyevski, Tolstoy, Steinbeck, Hemingway, Wilde and Joyce. No wonder I was ‘saturnine’ during my teenage years.

 

I vaguely remembered that there should have been something more inside my book, something very personal and hopefully after all these years amusing to read. Where was it, though?

 

I kept flipping the pages, two, three, ten, twenty at the time. The book was more voluminous that I had expected. It seemed like I had acquired a mass of computer data information and wrote it down for future reference.

 

Then, I remembered what I used to do when writing secret things down. I closed the diary and with the back cover facing me, turned it upside down. Now I opened it again and bingo. Here was what I had been looking for. My clandestine life, hidden from my family and usually from most of my friends, too.

 

To an untrained eye, the writings were a complete nonsense. To a person with passion for puzzles it would have been instantly clear that this was written in a code. My own – not hard to break, should someone take time and effort to do so. Certainly not interesting enough to my sisters who were nosy, constantly snooping around, yet too lazy to attempt the deciphering.

 

Even I couldn’t read it smoothly any longer. I paused for a moment, seriously considering whether I had time to do this. I was supposed to be cleaning out the patio room in an attempt to get things ready for the weekend. However, this was too much of a temptation.

 

I placed the book on an old coffee table and walked to the kitchen to fix myself a cup of hot chocolate and find a pen. I would need to write it all down if I wanted to be able to read it again. Now at least I understood that Mike had never read it. He wouldn’t have the time or energy to do a complicated task of code breaking, no matter how interested in my life before him.

 

I returned with a mug of hot chocolate, can of soda and plate of sandwiches with their crusts cut off, exactly as I liked them. I had completely given up on any kind of work in the patio storage for the day. The task that I was about to undertake would devour most of the day; hopefully, I’d be able to finish before Mike came home from work.

 

Sheba, my longhaired grey cat brushed against my leg and quietly meowed, requesting to be given some attention. “Come on, pretty girl.” I said, picking her up and pressing a loud smooch on her beautiful head. “You can stay, but I need a promise that you won’t tell on me. This is just between us girls, eh?” I looked deep into her intoxicating green eyes and as if answering, she purred softly. “Alright, then.” I said, opening my dear diary.

 

I ripped out a clean sheet of paper and wrote down an entire alphabet. Underneath, I wrote another set, this time moving the first letter three spaces to the left, which is how I constructed my code. The letters read:

 

A    B    C    D    E    F    G

 

x     y     z     a     b     c     d

 

For each A in a word I used X, for B letter Y and so on. Like I said, nothing to prove me a genius, yet clever enough to keep my secrets to secretive.

 

The first page was titled ARHB – October 1985. I didn’t need to de-code that one. I knew exactly what it meant. It was about Duke, the guy I lost my virginity to. October 1985 was when it happened.

 

For a moment I seriously considered abandoning the project of prying into my past. Was it wise to do so? Then, I though: ‘too late to turn back now’. My curiosity had been aroused and I wanted to relive the moments of my firsts.

 

I took a sip of hot chocolate and dug into work. It had taken a good hour to finish the first diary entry, but after a couple of paragraphs I refreshed my memory on the code that I was almost able to read it without a problem, just as I used to, almost twenty years ago.