Julian & Lia

by Maria Monroe

  "My assignment?"

  "Yes. Did you think you were just going to buy something at Pleasure Place and never use it?"

  "No, but Julian, we're in a car. On a street. With houses."

  "Unbutton your jeans."

  "Julian . . . "

  "Now, Lia."

  I slowly undo the button on my jeans, then unzip them. When I'm done, I look at Julian expectantly.

  "Come over here." His voice is quiet and low, the sound vibrating through my body. "Straddle me, Lia."

  Awkwardly, I climb over the central console and make my way on top of Julian. I straddle him, our faces close in the dark car, and I can feel his breath, hot and ragged against my face.

  "God, Lia, you're so hot. I fucking love it when you do what I ask you to," he says. We kiss, his tongue rough and searching, like he wants more than I could ever give. I can feel how hard he is, and I grind against him, my pussy wetter and wetter as his cock strains against his jeans and his breathing quickens.

  Julian stops the kiss, then stares into my eyes as he puts two of his fingers onto my lips. "Suck," he says harshly, and I take his fingers in my mouth, sucking on them like I did his cock the other day. "Oh baby," he murmurs, closing his eyes, his head falling back against the head rest of the car seat. I bet he's thinking about his dick in my mouth too.

  After a few seconds, he removes his fingers from my mouth, then dips them into the top of my panties, running them, wet and warm, lower and lower until he touches my clit, and I moan in pleasure. His fingers run further down, touching my wetness, then move back to my clit.

  "Oh," I whisper, and Julian grins.

  "Are you ready to try this?" he asks, picking up the vibrator with his other hand and turning it on, still touching me intently with his fingers.

  "Yes," I whisper. I'm ready to try anything with him.

  He holds the buzzing vibrator against my stomach, and I feel the intense humming on my belly. "I'm going to make you come with this," he mutters. His hand inside my panties spreads my lips apart, teases my clit some more. Then he removes his hand, replacing it with the vibrator.

  The second it hits my skin, I jump in surprise. It's a different sensation than I've ever had before, and I close my eyes and let the feeling coarse through me.

  "Good girl," he whispers. "How does that feel?"

  "Different. Good." He presses it hard against me and I moan out loud. "Really good," I whisper, and he laughs.

  "Baby," he says. "I want you to come. And I want you to think about all the things we're going to do still. I haven't even been inside of you yet. Imagine the first time, Lia. Think about it, my huge cock inside your wet pussy." He holds the vibrator hard against me as he says that, and I moan again. "I'm going to be inside of you. All the way. So far inside you, Lia. You'll be so tight, and I'll be so big and hard, and I'm going to fuck you, Lia. You know that, right?"

  "Oh god, yes." The intensity is growing, the pleasure so amazing and torturous at the same time. I grind against the vibrator in his hand, on the verge of coming.

  "I'm going to fill you up," he whispers against my ear, and my body grows tense, tenser still, until I think I'm going to burst and then I come so hard, yelling out into the car, my head thrown back, my body grinding against the vibrator and against Julian. It seems to last for minutes, my pussy tightening and relaxing over and over as warmth spreads through my entire body. When the spasms subside, when I'm moaning in pleasure and satiation, I finally look into Julian's eyes. He removes the vibrator and just stares at me with a smile on his face.

  "So I take it you like our new toy," he says matter-of-factly, and I laugh out loud.

  "It wasn't just the vibrator, though," I whisper, putting my hands around his neck and kissing him.

  "What do you mean?"

  "It was the things you were saying that really made me hot. About being inside of me?"

  He growls. "Lia, you have no idea how much I think about that," he whispers.

  "So what are we waiting for?"

  "I don't know." He kisses me hard again. I want to ask him more, want to press him for an answer. I have the distinct feeling that he's waiting for something, or holding back for a reason, maybe more than the fact that I'm a virgin. But I don't know what it is. And maybe I don't want to.

  ***

  "A bar? I don't know." I shake my head slightly.

  "Come on!" Vanessa brushes her long hair behind her back with one hand and frowns at me. "It's like, a rite of passage or something. Your first time going to a bar is important. You know: first kiss, first car, first time going to a bar?"

  "There are a lot of firsts I'm still waiting for," I mutter, and Julian, sitting on the couch, catches my eye and smirks. It's Friday night, and Vanessa's trying to convince me to go out to Forty-Four’s, a local bar. "All right," I finally say, even though it's hard to think of a locale where I'm sure I'll feel more out of place. "You guys do remember that I'm not twenty-one yet, right? How am I even going to get in?"

  "Julian knows the bartenders really well," replies Vanessa. "It won't be a problem."

  I don't want to think about Julian knowing bartenders well, and what, exactly, that entails, so I simply sigh and nod.

  We walk outside, heading to the main street where Sal's is located. The air is filled with the sound of house parties getting started, people shouting out to one another. Though Thanksgiving is still a week away, some houses are already strung with Christmas lights, giving everything a festive feel. It's hard not to be happy, and I'm filled with joy to be walking to a bar with two friends, even though the situation is a little awkward. Even though one of them is definitely way more than a friend. Not a boyfriend. We don't even have an official designation. But if we did, it wouldn't be "friends." Vanessa still doesn't know anything about Julian, or if she does, she hasn't let on.

  Julian pushes in the wood door at Forty-Four’s, and we enter the bar. It's not as seedy as I thought it would be. In fact, it's actually pretty nice, though I have little to compare it to, never having been in a bar before. We take a seat at a table in the corner, and the bartender comes over to see if we want anything to drink. She's definitely older than me, maybe in her early twenties, and pretty, her dark blond hair pulled back into a ponytail.

  "Hey, Jules," she says, standing next to him and putting her hand on his shoulder. "Your usual?"

  "Yeah," he says. "What's up, Sam?"

  "Not much. Haven't seen you around lately."

  "Yeah, I've been busy studying," he says, his eyes meeting mine briefly. "It’s my last year."

  "You’re so studious," says Sam with a giggle, bumping her hip into him. I kind of want to scratch her eyes out.

  "How about you guys?" she asks looking at me and Vanessa with a friendly smile. Maybe she's only flirting so much with Julian because she wants a good tip, but I still feel uncomfortable.

  "Two beers," says Vanessa. "What's good tonight?"

  "We got some Kumquat's Moose on tap. It's a new craft beer? It's really good."

  "Perfect," says Vanessa, though I have no idea what they're even talking about. Kumquat's Moose?

  "Oh hey, College Boy," says Sam, winking at Julian. "We got some new Literary Trivia coasters. Probably right up your alley, no?" She bumps her hip into him again, and the wave of possessiveness that crashes over me again is scary. I'm not supposed to feel that way about someone I'm not even officially dating.

  "Bring it on," says Julian, treating Sam to his grin and sparkling green eyes.

  "Oh yeah?" There's no mistaking the heat in Sam's tone, more than a step beyond friendly flirting.

  Someone at another table gestures to Sam, and she coos, "Be back with your drinks in just a few!" as she walks off, hips moving more than they need to. I didn't realize how stiff with tension I'd gotten until she leaves and I exhale. I wish I didn't care. I don't want to care. I'm glad I met Julian—I can't imagine my life without him—but he's made every single thing infinitely more emotionally difficult. I take a dee
p breath and try to act like a normal girl at a bar with two friends, even though I'm not even sure what that looks like.

  A few minutes later, Sam returns with our drinks. She slaps a stack of coasters down on our table. "We got a whole bunch of these because of the Lit Fest coming in the spring? Let me know what you think." Her comments are directed at Julian, but fortunately the bar is getting busier, and she doesn't have time to chat.

  I take a sip of my beer. It's bitter, with weird fruity undertones. "Ew," I say, then feel embarrassed immediately afterward.

  "Is it gross?" Vanessa drinks from hers too, then screws her face up and laughs. "Ew is my assessment as well. Sometimes with craft beers you don't know what you'll get."

  I take another sip. "Maybe we'll get used to it."

  "Drink enough of it and you won't care how it tastes." Julian takes a sip of his whiskey, which I guess is his "usual" that Sam remembered, then picks up a coaster. "OK. Identify the novel that begins with the following line: If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born . . . "

  "Catcher in the Rye!" I interrupt, surprising myself by shouting out the answer, but it's one of my favorite books.

  "Nice," says Vanessa.

  Julian shrugs. "That was an easy one." He raises one eyebrow at me like a challenge.

  "Bring it on." I take a gulp of my beer, which still tastes nasty, and nod at him. "I'm ready."

  "Fine." His voice is calm, but underneath it I can hear a streak of competition. "Next question. Who wrote the poem titled Poetry, the first line of which is I, too, dislike it?"

  "I know this." I do. We studied it in AP English last year in high school. I try to rake through my mind to bring the answer to the surface. "Marianne Moore?" I think that’s right.

  "Well, shit." Julian's looking at me with a new appreciation. "Look at you, Little Miss Literature."

  "Julian hates when someone's better than him at something," says Vanessa. "He's used to being the literary star."

  "Really? Let me ask you some questions, then." I pick up a coaster and read the question out loud. "What famous author once said One must not put a loaded rifle on the stage if no one is thinking of firing it?"

  "Chekov." Julian doesn't bat an eye, just stares directly at me.

  "How did you know that one?" asks Vanessa.

  "Creative writing class. Ask me another." He's staring at me so intently I feel like my hands are going to start shaking.

  "OK. Next question. What famous 20th century novel features a character named Rose of Sharon? No fair. Too easy."

  "The Grapes of Wrath." He picks up his glass and downs the rest of his drink. "That was too easy. One more for you. Complete this line from Macbeth. 'It is a tale, told by ­_______, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.'"

  "An idiot." It's ridiculous how proud I feel about knowing the answers to these questions. An involuntary smile spreads across my face.

  "We should make this interesting," says Julian, glancing briefly at his sister before looking back at me. "Care to wager something on who can get the most answers right?"

  I don't know how to respond. Is he talking about money? Or something else? I feel awkward that Vanessa's here because there's so much intensity from him directed towards me. Or at least that's how I feel.

  I shrug. "I don't know." I can feel my cheeks burn.

  "I told you he's competitive," says Vanessa, breaking the tension.

  "I'm going to go get another drink." Julian stands, stretches briefly, then makes his way towards the bar. I watch him go, watch his languid walk, confidence radiating from him. A girl at a table calls to him, and he stops to talk. It's stupid, but I feel a swell of jealousy inside. He's just talking her. Why do I care? But I do. Too much. Ugh. It feels so freaking complicated.

  I turn to Vanessa to get my mind off of Julian, and she's looking at me with more earnestness than usual. Panic rises in my stomach.

  "Lia," she says. Oh no. Her tone gives away that she has something serious to say, and I have a feeling I know what it's about.

  "Yeah?"

  "So, we're friends, right?"

  "Of course we are."

  "And you'd tell me if . . . " Her words trail off.

  "If what?"

  "If you and Julian?"

  My heart starts beating fast. She knows. Or at least suspects. My mind flashes back to the conversation we had when she said she hated girls trying to use her to get to her brother. I don't want her to think that's what I'm doing.

  "Oh my god, there is no me and Julian," I say, cringing inside at my lie.

  "Are you sure?"

  "I think I'd know if I was messing around with someone," I say, trying to make a joke out of it, but Vanessa doesn't laugh.

  "Look, I'm not mad or anything, I just…"

  "No. Seriously. There's nothing going on, Vanessa." I feel nauseous suddenly, maybe from the beer and maybe from how horrible lying to my friend is making me feel. Good. I deserve it.

  "OK," she says, but the look in her eyes tells me she doesn't believe my story.

  "I'm just going to use the bathroom," I say, getting up quickly and heading to the back of the bar where a small hallway leads to the women's and men's rooms. In the bathroom, I run the water and splash some onto my face. It's cool and refreshing, and I take some deep breaths before drying my face off with a paper towel from the dispenser. I'll figure this out. Somehow. Everything's going to be OK.

  I start to open the bathroom door when I hear Julian's voice and stop cold, listening to what he's saying outside in the hallway.

  "Hey." His voice isn't exactly friendly. In fact, it sounds sort of annoyed.

  "I've missed you. You look really hot tonight." It's a girl's voice, a voice I don't recognize but hate immediately.

  "Thanks," he says somewhat coldly.

  "So, you know, I've been thinking about stopping by your place again sometime soon. It's been awhile."

  "Yeah. I'm sort of . . . involved with someone."

  "Who? That girl you're here with tonight?"

  He must have nodded, because she says, "God, Julian. What is she? A freshman? And she's not even hot or anything."

  "I gotta go," he says, and she doesn't respond. I assume he left. I step back into the bathroom and pretend to be washing my hands as the girl enters the room. She stops when she sees me, a mean grin appearing on her face. I recognize her immediately as the girl I saw leaving Julian’s bedroom the first time Vanessa brought me over to their apartment.

  "You're here with Julian, aren't you?" she asks.

  I nod but don't meet her eyes, trying to let her know I'm not interested in having this discussion.

  "Listen," she says. "Just so you know? Julian doesn't do relationships. And you look like a nice girl who probably wants one." Her eyes have that smoky makeup look, a look I'm certain I could never achieve even if I tried. She fluffs her long layers of blond hair in the mirror.

  I don't respond, which seems to spur her on more, and she turns back to me, glaring. "Do you really think you're going to change him into boyfriend material?" she persists. "He's a senior. He's graduating at the end of the year. You don't really think he's going to be your, like, happily ever after, do you?"

  Like usual for me, a clever comeback cannot be conjured, so I just stare at her, my cheeks burning, my eyes watering. I will not cry, not in front of her.

  "He's good in bed, I'll grant you that," she continues, rummaging in her purse, then applying mascara to her lashes. "But when it comes to girls? He's easily distracted."

  "Sounds like that's only a problem for you." My response bursts out suddenly, my chest filled with the urge to punch her, which of course I'd never do.

  She turns to me slowly, her face a calm mask, but I can see there's anger boiling just below the surface. "Just a . . . friendly warning," she says, capping the mascara and shoving it back into her purse.

  "We're not even going out," I say, unable to stop myself from e
ngaging with her in what will surely prove to be a useless conversation. "We're just friends."

  "Oh honey," she responds, her voice saturated with false sympathy. "That's what he tells all the girls."

  And with that she's gone, whipping past me so I'm left in a cloud of her cheap perfume and bitter words.

  I sigh, my body feeling tired and limp. As much as I don't want to listen to what she said, as much as I want to push the words out of my head, I can't deny there's probably some truth to what she was saying. After all, he slept with her, as recently as a few weeks ago. And judging from the way girls respond to him everywhere he goes, not just here but in class and on campus, it doesn't seem like getting girls' attention is a problem for him. His obvious sexual experience is also a clue that he's been around.

  Maybe she's right. Even though I'm not going out with Julian, deep down inside? If I'm being completely honest? I have to admit that I do think I'm different, that things between Julian and me are stronger and better than between him and other girls. And that, I suddenly realize, is simply me lying to myself. Being with him is fun. And exciting. But if I really think he likes me, I'm being a fool.

  I need to get out of Forty-Four’s, back to the relative comfort of my dorm room, need to be alone to think about what a mess I've made of things. I can't risk getting my jacket from the table, so I sneak out without it and shiver all the way back to my dorm.

  ***

  In my room, I get under the covers without even taking off my clothes. I want to go to sleep, for a long time, and forget about everything, but I'm restless. And a few minutes later, Julian sends a text. Where the hell are you? Are you OK?

  I'm fine. Not feeling well. Back at my dorm, I text back, and then I shut off my phone.

  Five minutes later the pounding on the door is unmistakably him. "Open up, Lia." His voice is harsh, but I can hear worry in it too.

  If I stay quiet, will he just go away? It's possible, I guess, but I know him well enough by now to know that he won't leave until he gets an answer.

  "I'm tired, Julian. I'm not feeling well. I'll call you tomorrow?"

  "Open the fucking door, Lia." The words are a harsh whisper.