by Ava Michaels
Losing Virginity
By Ava Michaels
-----------Chapter 1-----------
Hugh Jackman leaned over to me, across the lunch we were sharing along the riverside in Florence, and tried to say something. I couldn't understand what he was trying to say. What was that noise? Was there a freaking drum circle somewhere nearby?
"What would you like to tell me, Hugh?" I said to him, batting my eyelashes, playing the coquette. He smiled, took my hands in his and opened his mouth again.
Bum, bum, bum, bum.
What was that drum circle doing? I looked around the near empty park. Lovers sat under trees, family picnics were nearby, and an artist was painting on his easel.
Where was this drumming coming from?
"Hugh? What is going on?"
Hugh leaned towards me and in a husky woman's voice said:
"Ohhh, yes. Yes. Harder."
What? What the hell was that?
Not that I wasn't into Hugh saying that to me, but I would have assumed his voice would be different. Also, I thought there would be a bit more foreplay before we got into this sort of territory.
"Harder, Gaines. Faster."
What? Who was Gaines? And why does Hugh want him over me?
I awoke to hear my roommate getting plowed like a field in spring and her bed beating a steady rhythm against the wall of our apartment bedroom.
Jess was her name, short for Jessica. Jessica May Livingston. She was the only daughter and youngest child of the Hillsborogh Livingstons. That is how she introduced herself to me, heavy on the East Coast accent. Actually, Hillsborough was a small town in Georgia. Her mom and dad had seven children. There were six boys, all big, blond haired, blue eyed clones of their mother. But Jess, she took after her dad, with dark brown hair, brown eyes and a smile that made her look like the cat that had swallowed more than one canary. Her whole family was there in a cute family photo on her desk. How she could do what she was doing with them all staring at her was beyond me. But, hell, she apparently could do it with me staring at her, so what was the big deal about a photo? She was tall with a model's body only without the flat chest. Her breasts were perfect. Perfect! They were just the right amount of too big. Just enough to give her that extra cleavage, that extra curve and no matter what kind of contraption she used to support them they seemed to giggle perfectly. Now, it isn’t that I spend hours studying my roomie’s tits. It’s just that she has them out…a lot. So, I can’t help but form my own opinion. The same went for her unbearably perfect ass that managed to stay firm even though she never exercised, well, other than the breaking the kind of sweat she did last night.
If her looks hadn’t made her the envy of all the girls in college then her 4.0 GPA was what did the trick. “I’ve got a photographic memory.” She giggled to me. “I haven’t picked up a book to study since fifth grade. It’s just one of those weird things.”
And if you didn’t hate her by now, you wouldn’t be able to because she was nice. Sometimes she was a little inconsiderate and maybe a little selfish at times. But, she was nice and really, really funny. I did like her. Just not right now. Right now I was a little aggravated and grossed out. She couldn't have known this guy more than a few days and she was already letting him in her pants?
“It’s just one of those weird things.” I can hear her giggle.
What was I thinking?
I got up, not even bothering to try to tiptoe out and left the room.
I took the half empty box of chocolates on her desk, next to her family’s picture, most likely Jess’ boy's attempt at romance before the deed, and turned the living room light on. The living room was in-between our room and our two other roommate’s room. When I looked up, one of my other roommates, Tiffany, was bareback and bouncing up and down on the couch. She was likely on top of another meathead. The bucking bronco at the Snake Pit really did come in handy for college girls. She turned towards me, not even attempting to cover her breasts that had tan lines through them. She spent way too much time in the sun.
“What the hell Ol!” she shouted. “How about some privacy!”
Whoever or whatever was under her didn’t stop because she kept bouncing. It might have been her best friend Bob… It’s what she named her vibrator, don’t ask why. Or it could be just some random guy… She had done this many times before… With many different guys... I’m not saying she’s a slut, I'm just saying she’s put more balls in her mouth than hungry hungry hippo.
“What Ol?”
I shook my head side to side and went out the apartment door. I sat down in the hallway outside. Was it this cheap box of Stover’s chocolates that got Jess into the sack so easily? And Tiffany, she lost her virginity when she was fourteen to a junior in high school and she continued to do it with random dudes up to this day. So Jess’ choice to finally lose her virginity is what interested me.
Sometimes Jess liked to do things to provoke me. I hoped this wasn't one of those times.
How have I become the 'girl in the hallway? I’m not a prude. I’ve just always been a little weird around sex especially when it is only three feet away from me. Sure I could talk like a girl who had sex, but a lot college kids have dirty minds whether they say stuff or just think it. Sex just seems like a 'big thing', that I was never sure I was ready to get involved with. It was like that big purchase you were always saving money for, you were always talking about how you were going to buy it, what you would do with it when you had it. In the end, you never buy it. You never get that fancy car, you just get a practical car. You never take that trip to Spain you just spend a weekend at the lake house.
I almost had sex when I was in high school. I was a bit of a strange girl back then, not that I wasn't now, but senior year I put away the band leader baton, put on a Ramones t-shirt and tried to break out of my shell.
I picked at the chocolates and thought about Carlos. He was my high school sweetheart. He was the guitarist in a grunge band. He had beautiful full lips and wide, brown eyes that had lashes so thick they looked smoky all the time. With jeans that were just faded enough, a black t-shirt just tight enough and hair perfectly messy with natural lazy curls he was, in a word, hot. It was great while it lasted and the fooling around was pretty fun, but in the end I wasn't ready to make that jump, that leap, towards a more serious appreciation of someone's body. I was worried in part about being bad at it.
Sex.
It seemed like there was so much pressure to be the best sex artist out there and especially when you are dating the boy in the band. And I wasn’t a good artist at anything. Yeah, I was a sandwich artist at Subway in high school and you know what I found out? I’m not good with my hands. If I couldn’t use my hands very good to make sandwiches then how was I supposed to be able to use any other part of my body very well?
Plus, if you were ever had sex with him and he didn't like it, then those band boy's fat mouths would open and tell the world that you were the worst lay they ever had. Mostly I was concerned that he had experience and I didn’t. That made me nervous. It was like trusting some stranger on the sidewalk to hold your wallet. Chances are they would be cool and hand it right back. But, there was always that chance that they would run and ruin your life for a spell.
I also hated the fact that Carlos was used to getting what he wanted, whenever he wanted. I didn't want to give him the one thing that only came once in a girl's life. I didn't want to give it someone who just expected me to hand it over.
And don’t get me started on diseases.
Health class freaked me out.
Why was everyone in such a rush anyway? It seemed like sex was just a tallied number or an appointment on a planner. Society wanted girls to have sex periodically and guys to have sex constantly. In
the difference between those two schedules was the tension that brought the world terrible rom-coms and half-hearted stories about hooking up. I wasn't going to be a half-hearted story. If something only happens once in your life, you should make sure it’s a unique one, not just something to be finished and gotten over.
Does Jess even know 'Gaines's' last name? Or was Gaines his last name? Or was he just another dude from her poetry class that could throw an iambic pentameter together and has 'discovered how beautiful the world can be through words'. That was the problem. Everyone put up so many feathers and strut such fake faces around that you can never tell who anyone is when it comes to mating time. You are almost always having sex with a stranger.
I guess if that stranger looked like Ryan Gosling I might go with it. But... I don't know. Maybe I'm being too picky.
Maybe Jess’ way was better. She sure seemed to be enjoying herself, taking another giant step away from her virginity on the other side of this paper thin wall I was leaning against. I was the one sucking down stale chocolates from the drug store that, no doubt, shared a plastic bag with a box of Trojans.
The room across the hall started creaking, and moans came from down the hallway.
What the hell? Was it a full moon?
I was probably the only one not getting my needs satisfied here. There was so much sex in this building right now it sounded like some kind of opera for perverts.
This was too ridiculous. Jess was going to owe me big time for this. Tiffany too. I bet Molly, my third roommate, was getting her itch scratched from some guy too. All I had was my hand. Seriously. And even it goes numb sometimes which is the ULTIMATE betrayal. I’ve got half the mind to just barge in there and tell them both to get the hell out. But, I’m afraid my jealousy will show.
I headed down to the lobby and laid down on the ugly, green leather love seat in the corner. It was much quieter if you didn’t mind the periodic crash of the ice machine in the corner every half hour or so. FML.
----------Chapter 2-----------
I woke up to about six of those really annoying girls who get up just before the sun to go jogging. In their tight little stretch pants, $200 running shoes and a pink breast cancer cap or whatever the current charity fad was they’d bolt out the door as if it were up to them to pull the sun over the horizon. If they didn’t run at least 10k, we might all be plunged into darkness for all eternity. Whatever. This morning I felt like I was dead anyway.
I peeled my face off the leather and knew there was a big, bright red spot there as if I had gotten smacked. I stretched the kinks out of my neck and back and headed back to my room. I hurried down the hallway reaching the elevator. I kept pressing the up button like it would make it go faster. No such luck. I waited for what seemed like fifteen minutes. I looked at my watch; it had only been a thirty seconds. ..
The building was newly renovated so the elevators were exceptionally nice, wood panels and carpeted floors. The amber colored floor brought out the wood of the elevator but looked strange next to the white walls of this floor. Each floor had different colored walls ranging from light blue, white, to brown and even red. It was nice for a cheap apartment where mostly college students lived.
When the elevator dinged, the door came open.
A guy and girl stood against the back wall of the elevator. The girl was skinny at the waist and legs but wide at the hips. Like Beyonce hips... Now if only her face looked like a horse that would make me feel better about myself. I glanced up. Nope. She was gorgeous all over.
My eyes shifted to the guy… Jesus Penus! He was breathtakingly gorgeous… Handsome. Whatever the hell you want to call it. He was well-groomed, his chin had stubble that was outlined to perfection, and his black hair was the kind of unkempt mop on top that usually comes across as deliberate, but not in his case.... His face looked like it was chiseled from marble. He had lips that were full, and along with his olive complexion, made him look incredibly manly. The kind of face you could trust. He had bulging muscles that looked like they were going to bust out of his suit… What he was wearing probably cost more than I had in the bank… Seven hundred and sixty three dollars to be exact…
I stepped in, pressed seven, and leaned against the side rail of the elevator. I looked down at the floor and prayed they wouldn’t say anything to me. REALLY, PRAYED. Hot guys make me nervous. I’m pretty sure baby Jesus owed me a few favors after how good of a girl I had been so far. Nope, today wasn’t my day.
“How’s it going?” he asked. He had a smooth voice when he talked. It reminded me of the guys who recorded relaxation videos. Something my grandmother bought.
I looked up smiling. He grinned. She glared. Well another beautiful girl that’s a bitch… Probably a slut too… I looked away.
“Just going to my apartment,” I sighed.
“Me too,” he said, pausing. “So what’s your name?”
“Um, I don’t tell strangers my name. What’s yours?”
“Stranger danger,” he said and then laughed. “Just call me No Name then if you aren’t going to dish.”
“And just call me Elevator Girl,” I replied sarcastically.
Total cheesiness...
The elevator door opened and I walked forward and slammed right into the edge of the elevator. I shook and rubbed my head. If you think nothing is impossible, try slamming into an elevator…
“You okay?” he asked.
I didn’t respond and walked directly into the hallway without looking at him. I was mortified.
………
As I made my way down the hallway I couldn’t help but wonder what they were doing in an apartment building that’s full of mostly college students. He looked too wealthy to be one of the nonstudents in the building.
As much as I wanted to avoid him, I would see Mr. No Name every day for the next week. It was the same elevator but different girl each time. Talk about playing the field. He was not the kind of guy I wanted to sleep with.
………
I opened the door to my bedroom, hoping Jess and… Gaines… Weren’t doing things that… Uh… Weren’t supposed to be done… To anyone… TO ANYTHING!
"Um ... Jess?" I said softly.
I waited until I heard her grunted reply before I stepped all the way in the room. Can you say traumatized? It was 7AM, I had work and class all day, and I had been awake half the night listening to the sounds of the ice machine dumping its load while Jess was being mauled by some Phi Mu Delta ape in our room. The box of chocolates I had eaten in the hallway during the beginning of the ordeal had also left me feeling bloated and cranky. I thought they were supposed to make you feel better but I felt like I was having my period. They’re a bloody waste of time…
I thought I knew Jess a little, but really? Was this how she was going to be all year?
"Jess!"
I sat on my bed and threw my pillow as hard as I could across the room. My aim was true and Jess bolted upright immediately. Her breasts were totally exposed. They had been a source of jealousy for me since we moved into the apartment. Our bodies were as different as the two sides of our apartment bedroom. Hers was as pink as it gets, and a mess too. Channing Tatum, Nikki Minaj, Usher, and (to my dismay) Bob Marley surrounded the bed she never, ever made, and her "assets" seemed to always be at attention and on display. She was slender and pert in all the right places. Jess’ pear-shaped ass, I'm sure, had every guy that passed by her "at attention." I didn't have "assets" as much as diamonds in the rough, and that was putting it kindly. I tried to keep a semblance of order on my side of the room, and I had papered my walls with vintage perfume advertisements and pictures of Clara Bo and Louise Brooks. We had only been apartment roommates a couple of weeks and still Jess had managed to ask me three times who those "black and white bitches" were. Such was our relationship.
Probably the closest relationship I had developed at Dartmouth, sad as that may seem. "Gross - put some clothes on!" I yelled, even though I wasn't really mad, just tired, tired as hell.<
br />
Jess struggled to open her eyes and giggled at me before flouncing out of bed and yanking on a nightie. Nice, it really must be nice to have the time to change into a nightie in the morning.
She did a sort of fast tip-toe across the bedroom floor with a big grin on her face.
"Jess, check your face," I groaned.
She flopped onto my bed, and I responded by climbing out of it. I needed to get ready for work, and I really wasn't in the mood for this. I knew that I big O needed attention, and bad, and the last thing that I needed from Jess that morning was a play-by-play. I had heard the most of it through the door. It was mixed in with Tiffany’s moan that sounded like a dying goat.
"Guess who had an incredible night?" she said.
I was digging through my bureau for a pair of socks hoping my blatant disinterest would be an indicator that I wasn’t really in the mood to hear all the gory details.
"Your make-up is super smudged," I said. She stood up and looked into a tiny hand held mirror.
"Oh yeah. That’s a good look!" she said running her fingers under her eyes.
”Rode hard and put away wet,” I said as I was pulling up a pair of jeans. I couldn't help smiling back at her. Maybe I was jealous in a way. She did seem happy even if it was in a Happy Hooker sort of way.
"Okay," I said, flopping back onto her bed while she stood pulling on a baggy t-shirt and a pair of green boxers I assumed were hers but couldn’t be sure. "Tell me all about it. But... I can only give you five minutes. Some of us have to WORK."
Jess giggled and pulled me close.
"Well, it was AMAZING!"
"Yeah, I think that the boys over in Dunbar probably guessed that too, Jess," I said, glaring at her. Dunbar was a frat house on the other side of the campus. If they didn’t hear Jess herself in the throes of passion last night, this kind of gossip travels fast. Frat boys were worse than women the way they gossip and hen pecked. You’d be surprised.
"Ok, MISS KITRIDGE," she rolled her eyes. "Do you wanna know about it or not?"