FEELS LIKE THE FIRST TIME

by Scott Hildreth

  “I want a man to appreciate me, then fuck me. You know, fuck me because they appreciate me. Not appreciate me because they fucked me. If a man appreciates me for who I am, and then fucks me, he’s going to fuck me like he appreciates me. Get a boy to do that,” I said.

  Heather raised her glass. “I just want someone to love me.”

  “Oh. My. God,” I said. “Seriously? Love? Love was created by the Hallmark card company to sell shit on Valentine’s Day. Love isn’t real. Love is what people say to you so they can keep fucking you. To keep your interest. I don’t want lies; I want my ass slapped and my hair pulled.”

  My desire to have sex was as insatiable as it could be. Generally speaking, if I was awake, I was thinking about sex.

  “So. Tattoo guy. Where does he live?”

  “Bel Aire. His mom died, and he lives in her house. I think she died the year you left for college. He’s just some biker. He drives a nice car, though. One of your dad’s. My dad said that he filed a lawsuit against the insurance company or something, I don’t know.”

  I raised my index finger and grinned. “Well, I’ve always said, if I want something bad enough, I can make it happen. I’m going to find him. I am going to find him, and I am going to have a summer of insane sex with him. And then, I am going to go to grad school.”

  “Are you still serious about that? Running your dad’s dealership? That’s retarded.”

  “Well, I was accepted at Columbia, and I’m scheduled to go in September,” I said. “Let’s get out of here before they get busy.”

  The waiter quickly brought the tab. I reached into my purse and got my credit card from my wallet. As I was handing him my card, Heather spoke.

  “You don’t have to do that, Kelli, let me pay for mine. You never let me pay,” she said.

  I grinned. “I know I don’t have to, but I can, and I will. So, get over it, bitch.”

  She stood. “Are you ready?”

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  As we walked outside, I could hear the music playing. The guy had an amazing voice. He was doing a Sublime cover.

  Heather pointed to the singer. “Now that’s an older dude I would fuck.”

  As we started to walk toward the platform, he looked up. He was wearing a ball cap and had it pulled tight down over his eyes. Average height, and somewhat stocky, he was extremely attractive. A very manly presence, but he was kind of cute at the same time. He played the guitar as he sang, and he sang from his soul.

  I chuckled. “Oh, I’d fuck that guy until he begged me to stop.” I laughed. “And, I’d make that blonde chick watch.”

  As we passed the stage to go to the parking lot, a gorgeous petite blonde who was standing beside the stage gave me the stink eye. I suspected she was either some groupie or the singer’s girlfriend.

  As we exited the fenced portion of the patio, they finished the song. “Ladies and gentlemen, Timmy Jonas and the Whiskey Militia. Timmy Jonas…”

  Timmy Jonas. I decided I would look him up on Facebook in my car before I left the parking lot.

  Right after I masturbated.

  Chapter 3

  KELLI. I couldn’t believe that he actually came into the dealership. I had not been home from college for two weeks, and I had seen him at the bar, and he came into the dealership. I acted like I had never seen him before when he came up to my desk, and he obviously believed me. I felt so different in his presence. So different. This was unsettling. I felt that if he told me to do something, I would do whatever he said. There was a certain comfort in being near him. I didn’t want him to leave when pulled away on his motorcycle. When he was gone, after he pulled away from the lot, I missed him. His smell, his presence, his little smirk that he wore oh-so-well. I desperately wanted him to be near me again. I wanted to feel his hands touch me.

  Driving home was taking forever. He said, as best I could remember, before your head hits your pillow tonight… What did that mean, exactly? Right now was before my head hit my pillow. Was I supposed to wait until I was about to fall asleep and text him in my almost sleepy state of mind? Maybe he wanted to convince me of things when I was groggy that he didn’t think he could convince me of otherwise.

  Who was I kidding? He could get me to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. I have never felt this immediate attraction, this anything toward someone before. Even though I never allowed myself to become attached to someone, I had felt attracted to men before. I had never, however, felt anything remotely close to this. His breath on my ear. Enunciate, Kelli…Erik with a ‘K’.

  I had almost wet myself right there. Right there in the dealership. On the sales floor. Enunciate. His hot breath, barely felt on my outer earlobe - it was enough to almost drop me to my knees. Did he know that? Was he aware of what he was doing? I bet he was well aware. Hell yes he was. Who else would come into a dealership and whisper such absolute nothingness into some random girl’s ear? The way he walked. The way I felt - that if I was in his presence no one would be able to get by with anything - without him just crushing them.

  Doctor or no doctor, I bet he knew how to fight. I bet he would fight for me. The thought of him filled me.

  As I sat at the light, waiting to turn left, I heard a motorcycle getting closer. I turned left. Nothing. I turned right. Nothing. Where was it coming from? I spun around and looked to the rear of the car in the blind spots. Finally, there it was. Shit, not Erik. What has he done to me? All we did was walk outside. That’s it. A walk outside. We didn’t even really talk, we just stood there. He told me to text him. That was all. I was hanging on his every word, hopeful that his words were intended to mean as much as I wanted them to. Hopeful for having more with him than I have ever wanted with, or from, anyone else. Ever.

  My heart racing from hearing the motorcycle, I began to pull away from the light. Thinking of what I actually wanted from Erik, I exited the frontage road, got onto the highway, and drove west down Kellogg, headed toward Old Town. What I wanted. What was it that wanted? Did I want it, or did I just want to think about it? I felt as if I was being sucked into some form of game and I had no idea what the rules were.

  And I haven’t even talked to him yet. Not really. The thought of him excited me greatly and not in ways that normally excite me. I had a tremendous desire to see him. To understand him. I wanted to know him, to see what it was that made him the way that he was. His motorcycle, the tattoos, and that physique. His way of walking like he had no care in the world, and didn’t fear anything.

  Watching him just walk to that motorcycle almost made me melt. I don’t know that I could accurately describe or define what it was that he did to me, the way he made me feel that was different. Maybe it was just that – the unknown. The not knowing exactly what it was that made him who he was. Not knowing what it was that he would want from me, desire of me, and require of me.

  What in the world was I thinking? I never had these types of thoughts before. I never consciously wanted a certain man before. I settled for whoever I decided that I was going to spend time with, and I spent time with them until I didn’t want to anymore, and then I was on to the next person. Having a desire for one person was what made people weak. It’s what made people make stupid decisions like getting married and having a family and ending up divorced. Who knows? Maybe he wouldn’t even answer.

  What if he was just playing a game…?

  I got my phone and pulled the business card from my purse. Erik Ead. I typed the number into my text screen, saved it as Erik Ead, and fell into a state of introspection. As I exited the highway and began driving into Old Town, I contemplated whether or not to send a lengthy text, a cute text, or something sexy. The things we girls have to decide. What should I say? I was going to struggle with this all night.

  I pulled into the parking lot and eased the car into the basement parking garage. After I parked, I sat in the car and thought. I typed into the text screen.

  Erik Ead: This is Kelli. How are you this evening?

 
I read and reread the message. It seemed too simple. Too long. Too stupid. I erased it. Quickly, I typed another message.

  Erik Ead: I am not ready for bed, it’s still early. But, this IS before my head hits my pillow, so…

  I looked at the message. I read it, and reread it. I’m not ready for bed, it’s still early. I’m not in bed. I’m in bed. I wish you were here. My head hasn’t hit my pillow. I wish you hadn’t left so soon, have time to talk? I thought of every combination of ways to text him. What has happened? Think, Kelli, think. This is easy. Think like he’s going to think. Send what he wants to read, but not what he expects. Don’t be some stupid girl. I pondered a moment, and typed a new text.

  Erik Ead: As instructed, Kelli

  I pushed send.

  I stared at my phone. Nothing. I waited. Nothing. I reopened my text screen, nothing. I grabbed my purse, pulled my keys from the ignition, and got out of the car. Clutching my phone in my hand, I started walking to the elevator. My heels clicking on the concrete basement floor, every step was amplified. With each click of my heels, I remembered walking behind him in the parking lot. I pushed the button and waited for the elevator. As I waited, I checked my phone. Nothing. I held my purse with my chin, and used both hands to power the phone off. As I depressed the button, killing the power, the elevator opened.

  “Hey Kelli, how’s it going,” Wes said as he walked around me. About three steps past me, he turned and waited for a response.

  “Great Wes, thanks. I’m just headed up to the loft to relax,” I responded.

  “Have a great night.”

  “Thanks, you too.” The elevator door closed as I finished speaking.

  Wes was one of those guys that was as nice as a human being could ever be. I met him a few weeks ago when I moved into this place. I had just graduated college, and was scheduled to go to Columbia at the end of the summer. I lucked out and got a friend’s end section of her lease in a loft in Old Town, Wichita’s bar district. The lease ended the week I was supposed to leave for New York, so it worked perfectly. I thought it would allow me to really enjoy my last summer before I went away for grad school.

  As the elevator began to rise, I powered my phone back up. The phone beeped as the elevator door opened. Thank God. I opened the text screen.

  Heather Whore: Hey

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. Heather. Why is it that whenever you want a text from someone, you always get one from someone else and that just makes it worse? You’re mad at them, because they’re not the one you want to hear from, and it also reminds you that the person you did want to hear from hasn’t texted you yet. I looked at the text again and didn’t respond.

  I reached my door and fumbled with the keys, holding my phone in my hand, hoping for a response to the text. Placing the phone between my chin and my shoulder, I unlocked the door. As I was swinging the door open, my phone beeped. I dropped my purse on the floor, dropped the keys and stopped. My heart was racing as I opened the screen. Please, please, be Erik. Please. I realized that I was bouncing on the balls of my feet, hoping it was him. I kicked off my heels and looked at the screen.

  Erik Ead: You’re a good girl. I’m pleased with you, Kelli.

  I read and reread the text message. Something about it has me turned on. It also started to make me angry. I read it again. You’re a good girl…I am not a girl, I am a woman. I read it again. Every time I read it, it turned me on a little bit more; the thought of him calling me a girl. I have no idea why, but this guy was crawling inside of my head. I’m pleased with you, Kelli. I read, reread and reread the message again. I pleased Erik Ead. The hottest hunk of man to ever grace this earth. My head started to spin. I ran to the couch and flopped down onto the cushions, facing the ceiling. Holding my phone above my head, I read the text again and thought…

  I could feel my heart beating in my throat. I wanted this to work so much. I wanted him to want me as bad as I wanted him. Why would he have me text him if he didn’t want me? If there wasn’t at least a little part of him that wanted to see me or get to know me. He wouldn’t. I looked at the screen again. I began to type a response.

  Kelli: Would you like me to call?

  I looked at the message and pushed send. Think long, think wrong, that’s what I have always said. Instantly, the phone beeped.

  Erik Ead: Please do.

  I stared at the screen. My heart raced even faster. I thought of what he might want to talk about. I felt like I may get sick. Bile rose in my throat. I unbuttoned my slacks and dropped them to the floor, kicking them toward my bedroom. I took off my shirt and threw it toward the bedroom as well. Lying on the couch in my bra and panties, I selected his name and pushed send. The phone rang three times.

  “How are you, Kelli?” His voice made me wiggle on the couch. I crossed my legs.

  “I’m good, how are you?” I responded.

  Lying on the couch half-naked, I looked at my stomach. I felt fat. I was close to my period, and I felt so inflated. So bloated. I looked great, but I felt like shit. I wondered if he looked at me now, if he would even want me. A “C” cup breast size wasn’t much by today’s standards. In the purchased boobs world we all had to compete with, five foot nine, one hundred twenty pound girls had a huge D cup. My small frame made my medium sized breasts look bigger than they were. Hopefully they would be big enough for him.

  He should be happy; I looked good for someone who was bloated.

  “I am well, thank you. I’d like to meet you for a cup of coffee in the morning, your thoughts?” he said in a very matter of fact tone. I loved hearing this guy talk.

  “I don’t have to work, so sure, what time?”

  “How about nine?” he asked.

  I uncrossed my legs. Kicking one foot over the back of the couch, and placing my other foot on the floor, I laid there, legs spread, and smiled, answering, “That sounds great, where?”

  “Espresso A Go-Go, downtown, you know the place?”

  “Yes, it’s a block from my house,” I responded.

  “I will see you there. Sleep well,” he said. And that was it. He was gone.

  Excited and disappointed at the same time, I crossed my legs again. Thinking of him, I started to tingle and feel warm. What would it feel like to have his hands touch me? Would he touch me, or was he just trying to get to know me? Did he want to be friends or lovers? I couldn’t continue to have these thoughts. My mind was running all over the place. I walked to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

  I got out my wipes and cleaned the make-up from my face. As I brushed my teeth, I imagined him and I having coffee together. The thought excited me. I couldn’t wait to hear his voice and see him walk. I finished brushing my teeth and weighed myself. One hundred and twenty bloated-fat-feeling pounds. I fucking hate the menstrual cycle. I walked to the bedroom and got into bed. Looking at the clock, I was reminded of the time, six thirty-four. I couldn’t stay awake any longer. The thought of seeing him in the morning was more than I could take. I set my phone on the dresser, set my alarm, and fell asleep.

  When the alarm went off the next morning, I bounced out of bed, excited to start the day. A typical Saturday was sleeping in until about nine, and being lazy. Who would ever think I went to bed on a Friday night at seven o’clock? I sat up in bed and looked at my phone. It was flashing. I had forgotten to text Heather back. I was sure she had texted me wondering where I was. I opened the text screen, and looked for new messages. There was an unopened text from Heather and one from Erik. I opened Erik’s.

  Erik Ead: Kelli, I like watching you walk. I like watching your mouth open and hearing the words form on your tongue. I want to know you. I don’t want to know you from having you text me your favorite color, your favorite restaurant, and your list of favorite songs; I want to know you from exposure. I want to witness you exist. I want to absorb you.

  I stared at the screen. I reread the text countless times. What was this guy doing to me? What was his plan? Whatever it was, it was working.

  And it wa
s working well.

  Chapter 4

  ERIK. The beginning of the day was always the best part. It allowed me to look at an empty canvas and see the day as being full of opportunities and not necessities. I finished my work out, showered, ate breakfast, and got dressed. After deciding to ride the motorcycle, I wore the basic attire for the bike, jeans, tee-shirt, and boots. Eager to meet Kelli, and start the process of mind fucking her, I went to the garage and started the bike.

  On the ride to the coffee shop, I began to plan the meeting. Kelli was young, and she was pretty, but she was not stupid. She acted as if she had an agenda. She appeared to have some form of determination to achieve whatever it was that she placed on her list of goals. Her body structure, stride, and posture indicated she exercised regularly. This form of discipline was attractive to me. She was attractive to me. Her personality type was a coin toss. She may be receptive and easy to convince or she may be a little more difficult, requiring time. She would, without a doubt, eventually be eager to listen to what I offered and apply herself to obtain the results. Breaking her may be difficult. It was always important for me to find that breaking point and then back off a little bit. Knowing where the line was drawn was extremely important to the success of a good partnership.

  I exited the highway onto Douglas Ave. and proceeded to Espresso A Go-Go. I wasn’t sure what Kelli drove, but scanning the coffee shop produced no young women, so I assumed she had not arrived yet. Good, she was not overly eager. I glanced at my watch, it was ten minutes before nine o’clock. I waved at Warren through the window and went in to get a coffee. In my recent adult life, coffee and women had become my two faults. Coffee to a greater degree than women, as I always felt as if I can go without women. Going without coffee would certainly lead to my early demise.

  “You want the regular, Erik?” he asked.

  “Sure Warren, make it a large, I will be here for a while.” I handed the money for the coffee to his wife, Ann, and received my change and a receipt.