by T. Bester
Xoxo
Delilah
I hit “send” and shut my laptop before wandering back into the bedroom. Nathan stirs when I slip back under the thick goose feather comforter. It smells like us, and I finally understand when girls say that sex has a ‘smell’.
“Where’d you go?” His voice is thick with sleep, a deep rasp. He opens his arm, and I tuck myself into his side. He hisses when my cold feet touch his legs, and I giggle.
“I was writing. Didn’t want to wake you.”
He rolls onto his side, and nestles his nose against the spot between my ear and my shoulder, his hot breath fanning over my skin. “I think we should stay here all day, in this bed, you and me and no clothes.”
My body warms, a tingle working its way through my belly and between my legs.
I snicker, fighting the blush in my cheeks. “Have you seen how many condom wrappers are on the floor.”
He shakes his head, and holds me tighter. I can feel his erection against my hip.
“Four,” I tell him. I run my hands through his hair. “We had sex four times last night.” There’s a slight shrill in my voice, almost as if I can’t believe last night happened at all. But the slight tenderness between my legs is a reminder that it did.
“Only four?” mumbles Nathan. He flips over quickly, and I squeal in surprise. “We can make it five.” He licks my neck. “Or six.”
I arch. “You’re going to have to give me a break, stud.”
He lifts his head, his eyes crystal clear, his hair standing up every which way. “A little sore, huh?”
Heat pools across the apples of my cheeks. Having him be so real about sex is still a novelty to me, especially when it comes to my body.
I brush a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s sensitive.”
Nathan purses his lips, and then gently moves back onto his side, taking his weight off me. “I probably should have gone easier on you.”
I smooth the furrow between his brows, and kiss him. “I’m glad you didn’t. It was worth it.”
And it so was. I had no idea sex could be so earth-shattering, or that the high that comes along with that raw connection with another person is addictive. I nibble on my lip, and with his eyes on me, I squirm. “I wanted to try something though.” I’ve been thinking about it since we showered together a few hours ago. Without explaining, I trail my hand down Nathan’s chest, watching the way his expression changes as I trace the dips and curves between his pecs, his deliciously sculpted abs, and that V that leads to my end destination.
“Can I touch you?” I whisper.
His throat works as he swallows, and he nods, his breath stuttering when I wrap my hand around his shaft. I nudge him into his back, and kneels beside him, lowering the sheet until he’s naked to me. He parts his legs, and I settle between them. Nerves make for shake hands, but I muster up enough confidence, and kiss his stomach, feeling his cock jump. Nathan looks down the length of his abdomen at me, lifting an arm behind his head, and in that moment, he looks like a Greek god. And I so very much want to please him, take care of him. I keep my eyes trained on his as I move lower, taking ahold of him in my hand. I’ve never done this before, but when I wrap my lips around the crown of his cock, it’s instinctual. He sucks in a breath, and it spurs me on. I suck, and then slowly pull more of him into my mouth. His skin is salty, and hot and smooth, the feel of him in my mouth a strange turn on. He threads his hands through my hair, and I start sucking in earnest, focusing on the underside of the tip.
“Sav,” he groans. “I’m gonna…”
I stroke him, working him in my mouth, between my lips and as deep as I can, and when he comes, he throws his head back and his body shakes. “Fuck!”
I swallow, cringing when the salty taste hits my tongue. Yuck. I school my expression though, more satisfied with how Nathan feels than what I’m tasting. I crawl up his body, and smile down at him. His eyes are glazed, his lids lazy.
“I think we should start every day like that,” he tells me. He pulls me down for a kiss. I laugh into his mouth, and for the remainder of our morning, we make out like teenagers because we can and because the only thing better than sex with Nathan, is kissing him until our lips are bruised.
NATHAN TAKES ME for a late breakfast at Cherry’s. It’s a beautiful day outside, and he tucks me against his side when we walk in. He snags us a booth, and rather than sitting in front of me like I expected, he takes up the space beside me, casually resting his arm behind my head, our feet tangled beneath the table.
There’s a different kind of intimacy in his actions, and in mine too, something that was missing before. It makes me wonder of everyone feels this way after sex, and if not, how they are able to keep sex and feelings separate.
“So,” Nathan steals a fry from my plate, and sticks it in his mouth, “what were you writing this morning?”
The diner is filled with families having breakfast, but Nathan is sitting so close, I don’t have to struggle to hear him above the noise.
“My first letter for the column.” I push my plate away, and sip my soda. “I have to send it to Toby by tomorrow morning for Monday’s edition.”
He looks at me. “What was it about?”
“About whether to have sex on the first date.”
He smirks. “And what did Delilah say?”
I thin my lips to hide my smile, and then reply, “That you can’t buy a car before you test drive it.”
“You’ve clearly been speaking to my sister,” he remarks.
“Well, until last night, I didn’t know how to answer it myself so I asked her. She knows I’m writing it because she caught me-"
I snap my mouth shut before I can reveal the most embarrassing moment of my life. Nathan nudges me with his shoulder. “Tell me.”
I shake my head.
“Please,” he implores. “You’re as red as a tomato right now, so I have to know.”
I mull it over. Could telling him really be the worst thing? Considering what we’ve done, I should hardly be embarrassed anymore.
“Zoey walked in on me looking at porn.”
Nathan chokes on a fry, and I burst out laughing.
“Jesus.” He coughs, and thumps his chest, making a grab for my soda. “I did not see that coming.”
“You wanted to know.”
He sits back, and angles himself so that his back is to the rest of the diner. “And why were you looking at porn?”
“Research. After Toby assigned the column to me, I had no idea what I was going to write about, or how to answer any questions about sex, so I thought I’d gather some resources.”
Nathan’s grin is one of honest and open amusement. “And? Did you like it?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I tell him. “I didn’t see much of it before Zoey walked in.”
“You know,” he leans in, and lowers his head. “If you’d let me help you, you won’t have to do that kind of research.”
It’s not that I haven’t considered his offer. “Think of it as teamwork,” he adds. He fingers a strand of my hair, and I suddenly feel far too hot for this booth.
“Then I’d effectively be writing about us.”
“Or, you could just be getting on-the-job experience. I can be your muse.”
“Or I could be yours,” I reply quietly. We’re flirting, and it turns my insides to goo. No wonder girls like this kind of thing, it’s exhilarating.
“You already are.” He kisses me with no shame, and when he pulls back, his regard is one of intrigue. “Maybe you should ask Toby if you can choose your own topics and write the letters, that way you can explore the things you want to and help other girls too.”
“I thought about it, but I’m not even sure I’d be any good.”
“I read your first article, the pilot piece for the column, and I thought it was pretty good.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. You should write more stuff like that.”
I bite my lip. “And if yo
u were to help me, I’d be writing about us.”
“I know, Sav. And I don’t mind.” He smiles when he sees my dubious expression. “I have no other motive, I swear.” Another kiss. “I’ll just have to wear you down until you say yes.”
Little does he know, I no longer need much persuading and I’ve come to the conclusion that having him help me won’t be a bad thing for the column. Or for me.
We’re just about ready to call for the check when the doorbell rings, and in walks the cheerleading squad, flanked by half the football team. Nathan visibly stiffens in his seat, but keeps our conversation going.
The Redhead from the other day - I think Nathan said her name is Chelsea - homes in on him, and then all but scowls when she catches sight of me.
“Hi Nate,” she purrs, leaning against our table. She cocks her hip, and flips her hair over her shoulder, exposing her ample cleavage and porcelain skin. She reminds me of Cheryl Blossom from the new Riverdale television series.
“Chelsea,” he greets, his tone hard but not rude.
“I’m glad I bumped into you.” She completely disregards me, much like the first time we crossed paths. “We missed you at last nights’ party.”
“I was busy,” he replies.
“Are you free later tonight?” She leans down, giving us both a view of her chest. I’m about to eat my breakfast a second time if she keeps this up. Could she be any more of a cliché? “I was wondering if I could over some of the photographs with you, for the calendar.”
I remember how Nathan said Chelsea is the Dean’s daughter and how everyone is always trying to keep her happy, so I expect him to say yes, even though the majority of the images for the charity calendar have already been approved by Toby.
“You can come by the office on Monday, just call and make an appointment with me.”
The most imperceptible frown disturbs the perfection that is her brows and then she pouts. “But I thought I could come to your place, and we can work on them together.”
Nathan stands, calls for the check and then helps me out of the booth. He threads our fingers together, and kisses the back of my hand. “As I said, I have plans. But I’ll be happy to help you on Monday when I’m in the office.” He looks down at me. “Ready?”
I nod, and smile, neither of us sparing Chelsea a second glance as we leave. But in the back of my mind, I wonder if she’s going to be a problem — she clearly has her eyes on Nathan.
17
SAVANNAH
WITH ANOTHER SUCCESSFUL post for Delilah beneath my belt, I practically float around on cloud 9 all week. On Thursday night, Erin kicks Nathan, Brian and Griffin out the house and declares it a ‘girls only’ zone. They’re off doing whatever guys do, while we sit in Nathan’s spacious living room, surrounded by copious amounts of chocolate and wine (for Erin). Various colors of nail polish litter the floor too, with a few homemade mud masks. Erin calls it ‘beauty on a budget’.
I’m not sure how we get onto the topic of sex, but I suspect it’s my own curiosity sparked by the next letter for the column which asks: What does sex feel like for the first time? I should feel equipped to answer the question on my own, but I realized that much of my first time with Nathan was a blur, an unfocused blend of bits and pieces. Not nearly enough to tell a girl who’s about to have sex for the first time what to expect. So, rather than Google it, I decide that I have all the sources I need right here. I note that when plied with wine, girls tend to become more loose-lipped, and not necessarily in a bad way. There’s a sense of sisterhood amongst us, the kind of friendship that lives and breathes and becomes part of who we are.
“There’s so many things no one tells you about sex for the first time,” says Erin. She shoves another block of chocolate in her mouth, and sighs. “I mean, it’s awkward.”
Zoey laughs. “Hell yes it is, especially when neither of you know what you’re doing.” She finishes another coat of polish on her toes, and stretches her legs out, admiring her handy work. “My first time was awful. The guy was so nervous he struggled to find the right hole.”
I swallow a gulp of soda, and choke, earning a round of ruckus laughter when it comes out my nose.
“Easy there,” Erin pats my back. “Please don’t die.”
I shake my head, and Zoey adds, “I bet Nate knew what he was doing the first time you guys played mattress gymnastics.”
“Zoey!” I blush. I’ve never shared that experience with anyone, and until now, analyzing it never crossed my mind.
“Oh c’mon,” Erin waves her hand. “I bet your first time with Nate was way better than my first time with Brian. He came before I did, poor guy, but we were fifteen at the time so I guess it was normal. And it hurt like hell because he’s hung.”
I shift, somewhat uncomfortable by the turn of conversation, even though I started it.
“My first time was just as disastrous,” adds Zoey. “It wasn’t as magical as people say, and unless your foreplay is on point, you’re in for an unpleasant experience.”
“They should totally be honest about it,” says Erin. “It’s uncomfortable, and your body does all kinds of strange things. And you’re lucky if you orgasm the first time, because you’re so preoccupied with what goes where.” She sits back. “Brian and I were a little tipsy the first time, so the foreplay was sloppy and uncoordinated, but we were half way through and he sneezed,” she laughs, “and then he farted.”
“Oh my God,” howls Zoey, “that's happened to me. It was a queef though.”
Erin joins in, throwing her head back, and when they manage to catch a breath, I ask, “What is that?”
Their laughter stops, and their expressions change. They’re looking at me like I’m crazy. “You don’t know?” asks Erin.
When I shake my head, Zoey explains, “It’s a fanny fart, but without the smell.”
My mouth drops open, but then I’m laughing too because it sounds ridiculous. “That’s a thing?”
“Oh yeah,” replies Erin. “But it’s not bad, it’s just air that gets trapped in your cooch when you’re gettin’ busy. Brian and I have stopped a few times because it’s really funny, especially mid-romp.”
“Oh, oh, oh,” Zoey waves her hand at us, “you know what else is really funny, the face a guy makes when he has an orgasm.”
“God, yes,” replies Erin. “Brian sometimes looks like he’s about to cry and sneeze at the same time. But I never tease him about it though, he’s a little self-conscious about it.”
“I was with a guy in high school who screamed like a girl,” laughs Zoey. “He had a bit of a Michael Jackson thing going. But I’ve also been with a guy who looked so sexy that I couldn’t not watch him come. It’s the weirdest thing to be turned on by.”
Erin snorts. “Please, there are a lot of things about Brian that turn me on that didn’t before. He makes me breakfast in bed and I want to jump him. The worst is when it’s that time of the month, and we can’t have sex.”
“You should give period sex I try,” suggests Zoey, her expression casual. “I’ve heard it’s pretty intense.”
“Not my cup of tea.” Erin places her glass on the table, and then faces me. “You’re awfully quiet, Miss. Everything okay?”
“I feel like I’ve walked into an episode of Sex and The City,” I admit with a giggle. “I didn’t realize girls talked about this stuff, I always thought it was just guys.”
“Common misconception,” says Erin. She ties her honey blonde hair into a messy bun atop her head. “Culturally, it’s the guys who can’t ever stop thinking about sex, which is also not true. When I was younger, my mom said we should never talk about sex, and that it’s a private matter between adults. But to be fair, my parents were quite old when they had me and my sister, so maybe they only ever had sex twice.”
“Never mind the fact that until a decade ago, sex before marriage was considered a sin,” says Zoey. I think back to her analogy about ‘test driving a car before you drive it’. “And God forbid a woman
admits that she likes sex.”
“Girl, things like that make me so mad,” replies Erin.
Zoey gives me a look. “You should put that in the column.”
I freeze, and so does Erin. “Wait…” She looks between me and Zoey. “You’re Delilah.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Shit,” mutters Zoey. “Sorry, Sav.”
I cringe. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone.” I give Zoey a pointed look, and she winces.
“I won’t tell a soul.” Erin moves closer to me. “I’m kind of obsessed with it though. I love how honest your voice is. And you’re a pretty good writer.”
“Thanks. I still feel like I have no clue what I’m doing.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I think that’s what makes it more relatable. You don’t need a repertoire of experience, your readers just need to know that you get it.”
“Totally,” says Zoey. “I wish I’d had someone like Delilah to talk to when I was in Austin, and I know a lot of other girls feel the same way.”
I sit back against the sofa. “I actually like writing it, answering the letters. Nathan suggested I ask Toby if I can do more than that.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” replies Zoey.
Erin nods, and her smile is infectious. “You’ll never run out of things to write about, especially if your focus is going to be on encouraging girls on this campus to embrace their sexuality. God knows we’ve had to suppress it long enough.”
“Amen!” shouts Zoey. “Viva la Vagina!”
“What she said.” Erin sits up and pours herself another glass of wine. “My name is Erin, and I like sex.”
Dear Jane, the Virgin
Do you have a pen and paper nearby? Because I’m about to get real.
If you’re anything like me, you’ve been bombarded with pep-talk after pep-talk about how the first time you have sex is ‘really special’ and you should only share it with someone you love. While all those things can be true, it can also be just another experience, and how you feel about sex and having it for the first time, is solely dependent on you. But, there are many things people don’t talk about, or not easily anyway, when it comes to the physical part. They waffle on and on about the emotional part, but they completely disregard the fact that HELLO, YOUR BODY IS GOING TO EXPERIENCE SOME REALLY WIERD SHIT. And it’s not all butterflies and orgasms. Sadly.