She snatches the magazine and places it between the seat and the console as we ease up to the drop off area, all of my friends standing around in the courtyard. Today should be just awesome - not - because even as embarrassed as I feel, I want to feel that amazing vibration even more.
My hand moves away just as my fingertips slide beneath the waistband of my shorts. My eyes begin to fill with tears. I stand and begin pacing the room. I hate the war going on inside me when this happens, when I want so badly to fix the aggravating pressure down below. Five minutes with my finger and it would be over, but the shame that consumes me every time I succumb to the desire eats my soul alive. If only he were here to take away the guilt, like when he caught me…
My eyes sting as I press my back against the wall, hating myself for wanting it, but wanting it so bad that I don't care. All of my life I've tried not to touch, to imagine, or to give in to wanting to be bad, even as strong as the desire was in my core. I've been good, except for the few times that I failed, letting myself have five minutes of pleasure before having to deal with the remorse and scrubbing myself clean for feeling like I've been in filth. This is the result of years of them driving into my head that only dirty, sinful people want those things. I've never discussed these feelings with anyone, not even Meredith. What's weird is I really don't even feel that guilty about having premarital sex, but the sheer thought of the way I feel from touching myself until orgasm sends me into a sweat. Maybe that's why I've wanted to lose my virginity so bad: to escape these feelings when a sexual urge occurs.
I cross my legs as a tear falls from my eye. My phone sitting by my bed catches my attention. It's lit up from a text message coming through. The muscles between my legs contract, angering me more. I don't understand what's wrong with me. Most people can just turn it off. When I get the least bit turned on, it consumes me, making it hard to focus on anything else. The blood flow pounds in my head as I try to fight caving, trying not to give in to myself, or my urges. Sex was never an option, because it’s hard to keep secret with two people involved, so it really was easy to avoid, but the knowledge of knowing I can give myself the same result without anyone knowing was the hardest to run from, because also, there wasn't a single night or day that went by that my mother missed saying, he's always watching, even when no one else is.
My body is tense. I grab my phone to three text messages, the first one sent about an hour ago. I haven't even looked at it. I can't smile when his name appears like I usually would because of the guilt washing through me. I can't even enjoy the beauty of his gesture and our video. How many people have a hard copy of the most perfect first time, that they can watch any time they want? I've pictured how it would be in my head so many times, and none of them even came close to what I got.
I unlock my phone and open the message box.
Saxton Maverick (9:09 PM): Hey, beautiful. How was your day?
Saxton Maverick (10:12 PM): You okay?
Saxton Maverick (10:48PM): Uh, I really don't like being this guy, but I'm kind of getting worried since you're not working. A simple 'I'm alive' will suffice.
I bite my bottom lip, a few more tears falling free. He somehow always has a perfect balance of funny, sweet, and stern. I respond, suddenly in the mood to play.
Me (10:51 PM): I'm alive.
Saxton Maverick would like to FaceTime.
Shit. I most likely look like crap. Do I ignore it or answer? With my thumb hovering over the green circle, I quickly wipe my eyes and inhale the cry snot that's trying to hinder my normal breathing, before lightly slapping my cheeks. "One, two, three..."
I press the button, waiting for the video call to connect, staying out of camera shot while I run to the mirror to give myself a once-over. Yep, I look horrible, just as I thought. "Hello."
Dammit, my voice sounds scratchy. I clear my throat. "What's up?"
When he doesn't respond I tilt the screen toward me until I can see myself in the small square in the corner, confirming he can now see me. "Kambry."
As quickly as my eyes veer to the right where I can see him, they stick, because he is clearly lying down in bed, one arm behind his head, and he's shirtless, every lean muscle carved to perfection. He’s not totally relaxed or flexed, but a little of both. This, I'm sure, is how babies are created, because this makes girls stupid. "What are you doing?"
I blink a few times repeatedly. "What?"
He smirks. "Had I known this would get your complete attention I would have called you an hour ago."
The stupid finally wears off...
"Oh, sorry. Meredith was here giving me a few things before she went to Bryant's for a booty call. Then I watched the DVD you sent. I didn't have my phone on me."
He stares for a moment. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, why?"
"Seriously? If we're going to be a couple, we should probably act like a couple. Couples talk about shit. That's how you get to know each other. The tear tracks down your cheeks and the red splotches tell me you've been crying, so nothing is an inappropriate response. Plus, on top of that you're in a daze. Most people aren't in a daze when referencing a sex tape."
I take a deep breath. "I guess you're right. Hold on," I say, and place the phone down so I can clear off the bed. When it's free from debris, I pull down my comforter and slide in bed, pulling it over me. I grab the phone after turning on my side, looking at him once again. He hasn't moved and his abs are screaming at me to lick them, the sun kissed color of his skin giving them more definition. It's really unfair for a man to be so hot.
"So you watched our video?" He interrupts the silence. "And it made you cry? Should I be worried? I’m not an expert on the emotions of a female, but that doesn't look like a happy cry."
"The video was great. Thank you for sending it to me. It makes it more special."
"But?"
"It turned me on."
"And that's the wrong effect because?"
"Because you're not here."
"That didn't stop you last time." He winks as the smile pulls his mouth up into a curve. Tears begin to fall again. "Whoa. What the hell? Tell me what's wrong."
"I decided against it. I shouldn't want it so bad. It's only been a week since I've seen you. Before I started having sex I tried hard not to, but occasionally it happened when I couldn't stand the way I felt. I'll see you tomorrow. I shouldn't have to touch myself after that short amount of time, but I wanted to." I lick the tear that has fallen to my lip and continue. "Because you weren't here to make it go away. I made myself stop."
He sits up, his abs becoming more pronounced. It's now that I notice the band of his briefs, showing he isn't wearing pants. His face is displaying a look of confusion. "What's wrong with masturbating occasionally, Kambry? That's partly how you learn what you like. Plus, how are you going to tell a guy what you like if you don’t even know? We aren’t mind readers you know, just good guessers sometimes. It doesn’t matter how good a guy is at sex or oral or using his hands, because each girl is slightly different when it comes to being turned on and pleasured. The way in which a woman likes to be touched, fucked, and made to come, is as specific to her as her fingerprints. I have to take what I know and learn how you specifically like it, and vice versa. It's not like it's going to make me mad, no matter how often we have sex. I think it's hot watching you, but you know that. I mean I would prefer it if you're thinking about me while you do it, but it's a part of life. Everyone pretty much does it. You're human. Sexual desires are a part of humanity."
"It makes me feel dirty."
"Why?"
I'm scared to tell him. What if he thinks I'm a freak or something? What if he thinks I have some weird addiction? I remember Mom making a comment about that once too. If you need to touch yourself because you want sex more than you're getting it she said it shows an addiction problem, and addictions keep us from living a whole life.
"Kambry, talk to me."
"Because my mom caught me once. Freshman year. Ever since t
hen she has made comments as often as she can that it's a sin and I shouldn't want to do things like that to myself. She said only unclean people have those desires, but occasionally something turns me on and it doesn't just go away unless I touch myself. It consumes me."
He stares at me, running his hand through his dirty-blonde hair. At least I can see his face this way. This would be a lot harder if I couldn't. His face softens. "You have those parents?"
"What do you mean?"
"Instead of explaining to you what your body was going through they made you think it was wrong."
"I guess. They're very conservative. I'm basically an orphan until I go home and beg for them to take me back. They kind of have this mentality that a girl shouldn’t move out of her parents’ house until she gets married."
"I don't care. Even I have conservative parents. They aren't okay with what I do. They don't brag to their friends that I'm in porn. My dad certainly didn't buy me condoms as a young colt and tell me to chase tail, but he explained the best decision morally and the most appropriate behavior if I was out of their supervision and things happened, because that's what kids do. They do the opposite of what their parents tell them to do. They're hardheaded. They think they're ten-foot-tall and bulletproof. They think about sex in the most immature form. Still, there is a fine line between teaching right from wrong and brainwashing. That's brainwashing, Kambry. There is an entire part of Psychology devoted to sexual curiosity and behavior in kids: multiple theories and Psychologists that formed them. It doesn't make you dirty because you become curious over parts of your body and how they work, it makes you human."
"Yeah, but we're having sex now. Shouldn't I just be happy with what I get?"
His hand slides down his face. "That is so fucked up," he mumbles. My heart falls into the pit of my stomach, unsure of what that means. "Holy shit...total opposite from her."
That comment came out so low I could barely make out the words. I wish I really knew who her is. "Baby, listen to me."
My heart flutters back to the place it belongs. I love the way that sounds. What makes it better is the way his eyes line a little when he says it. He's being sincere. "I'm listening," I whisper, still in the exact same position I've been in since I got in bed.
He pauses and adjusts a pillow, before mirroring my position on his side, but his hands become free. One goes beneath him to prop up his head. "There are benefits. Let's say we were a couple without the cameras. When I was in college it was for business, marketing to be exact, but I was minoring in film. I had this absurd dream that I was going to be a talent agent, but even if it didn't work out I knew I could still find a job. With jobs like that there is always a possibility of travel, right?"
"I guess so. I've never really had to think about it."
"Okay, so let's pretend we live together just like we will be starting tomorrow. I find you insanely hot, you rev up my engine with one sultry look, and our sex is explosive. We have sex a minimum of four times a week because we haven't been living together all that long, since I'm fresh into my career. I have to go out of town for work on an extended stay. Role-play with me. Are you with me?"
"Yeah."
He starts to smile but then erases it, continuing. "I've been gone for two weeks at this point. I was supposed to be home the week before, but got held up in negotiations - the more clients the more income. You miss me, and you're getting lonely because I haven't had a whole lot of talk time over the past few days. The last time we talked on the phone I kind of blew you off when you were telling me something exciting about your day because I had an important call come through that I couldn't miss. I'm already ready to come home to you, so interruptions have me on edge. We can’t seem to get more than a few minutes at a time. When we hang up, Meredith calls. She got the call she was waiting for and she wants to celebrate, so while I'm gone the two of you go out for a few drinks, do your girl thing, so you're not sitting around the house. Are you picturing it?"
"Oddly, yes."
"So while you're sitting in the bar catching up, completely innocent, I'm also sitting in a bar across the country with one of my clients, just like the night we met. You trust me and I trust you, yeah?"
"I would hope so."
"A hot guy walks up to you, offers to buy you a drink, starts small talk, and has the personality to never quit. He flirts with you and gives you attention when I can't. There's no ring on your finger and he wants to fuck you. It's clear when he asks what you're doing later. What do you do?"
"I would tell him I'm not interested and that I'm seeing someone. Isn't that what everyone in a serious relationship would do? I mean if we live together it's pretty serious I would think."
He stares at me for a moment, as if he's truly thinking back on something. "God, I love that about you, but no, beautiful, not everyone would say that. Keep picturing it. He's a guy that doesn't like to hear no. Meredith slipped off to the restroom, leaving the two of you there, amongst the mass of the crowd. He gets closer to you, starts to brush and caress you, and even whispers things you want to hear into your ear. For a moment I don't exist. Out of sight out of mind."
"I don't really like where this is going. I would ne-"
"Stay with me, beautiful. You're human. You start to get turned on from the contact, and the frustration with me being gone already has your mind in a haze. Not to mention you've been drinking. No one likes being sexually frustrated. It clouds your judgment. You have two options. One, you take him up on his offer to leave with the thought that I'll never know, or two, you call it a night, go home, and masturbate to thoughts of me filling you until I can. Which do you choose?"
The look on his face with the final question has my veins on fire. I'm not even sure he's aware of the way he looks right now, but it has become the blurb to the story that is currently untold. More times than not our subconscious has ways of revealing itself. He looks terrified of my answer. Internally he hates that he spoke the question aloud.
Generally speaking, I'm a pretty ditzy person. Sure, I'm smart when it comes to school and things, but my lack of experience keeps me in the dark. Having blonde hair doesn't help my case either. Stereotypes will never die, but in this exact moment, I'd be willing to bet my life that he's been cheated on. It's just a feeling I have in my gut. It breaks my heart in two and it makes me angry. That's something I've never understood: cheating. We've always been taught that grass isn't always greener on the other side of the fence, in the other pasture, whatever. Why cheat on someone?
I'm not sure I could lie next to someone knowing I betrayed him that way. I don't think I could look into his eyes knowing I gave something that's his to another man. Trust is something that can't be fixed once it's broken, because the paranoia that the act that broke it in the first place is being repeated, would lie forever in the back of the mind. I do know that I couldn't whisper the words I love you knowing that it was a lie, because if you love someone, really and truly love them, if you give them your heart, or even if you promise them exclusive rights, then you shouldn't want to break the terms of the contract until both of you agree that it's void.
When I don't know the right thing to say I ask questions to understand, but I don't think now is the time to bring it up though. I'm not one that is great with wordy expressions, so I'll just say the first thing that comes to mind. "You really want the honest answer?"
"Yes. Without honesty you have nothing."
"There is nothing dirtier than a lying heart. I'll deal with the shame of knowing I need to get off without you there before I'll let another man have something that isn't even mine to give away."
He blinks slowly, cautiously choosing his words. "If you want it you want it, Kambry. It's nothing to be ashamed of, but if you do want it, I'd rather you get yourself off than get it from somewhere else...any fucking day of the week."
"I'd leave you before I'd cheat on you," I say honestly.
"Good, because cheating is my only hard limit. I have no shame. You want somethi
ng I'll give it to you; I don't care how dirty or raunchy it is. I'll fuck you anywhere, place, or time, but I won't share you. I'm not ready to divulge further into whys, but when I say it's a hard limit, I mean I don't care what the stipulations are for the act, I'll walk away. It doesn't matter what girl propositions me, I'll never step out on you if we're together. There are two reasons I haven't attempted a relationship in four years: only two. One is because I know that I have to fuck other women for a living, and that's something I can't do with someone laying in my bed at home. The second we’ll get to later."
My heart is pounding in my chest; so hard that I'm having a problem catching my breath. The more I talk to him and hang out with him, the more I like him. Before I met him I felt off balance. I was stumbling along, clueless as to where I was going or how, and terrified of the fact that I felt so lost, but even with knowing that at some point this will end and he will have to go back to the guy he was before this all started, it still gives me hope that the ending will be better than the beginning, and the middle will be juicy enough to ride on the hangover for a long time to come.
"I have a confession," I say with my serious face rapidly changing as the feelings on the inside are trying to expel.
"What's that, beautiful? I'm interested."
"That scenario. If it were real life, I think I'd rather go home, take a cold shower, and tell my body to fuck off, because you touching me, talking dirty to me, and looking at me, are so much better in real life than in my head."
"Fuck that made me hard."
My cheeks flush. Boldness spreads through my mind that I've never had. "Can I see?"
He smiles. "You want to see my dick? You want to see what happens when you say things like that?"
I nod, unable to speak. Inside, I'm a nervous wreck, even post sex. I mean, I've seen it, but it wasn't really premeditated. It was more so in the moment and that makes a huge difference.
He shifts onto his back and his fingers dip beneath the band of his briefs. He lifts, before pushing them down his body until he's dangling them from his finger, showing me he's now naked. "So, since you had a confession, do you want to hear one of mine," he asks as he rolls back onto his side. I can't see past his belly button yet, and the anticipation is killing me.
Sex Sessions: Uncut (Camera Tales #1) Page 25