by Kelly, Hazel
I counted the things out on my fingers. “Number one: he’s great in bed. Number 2: she knows what she likes. And/or number 3: they really care about each other.”
“Go on. I’m listening.”
“Okay. So number one. If he’s good in bed, it’s probably because he has experience with other women who have taught him a thing or two. Because, despite what guys your age think, watching a lot of porn doesn’t make you good in bed.”
Her eyes grew wider than they’d been all morning.
“Number 2: she knows what she likes.”
“Can you elaborate on that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, how does she know what she likes?”
I furrowed my brow. “She masturbates.”
“No she doesn’t.”
“Have you talked about it with her?”
“Of course not.”
“So you don’t know.”
She pursed her lips. “I guess not.”
“Look, masturbation is totally normal and healthy, and it isn’t just for young men. To be honest, it’s probably even more important for young women.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s harder to figure out how we work and masturbating is the best way to learn.”
She looked unconvinced.
“It’s just common sense, Kate. Think about it. How could you possibly expect a guy to make you feel good if you don’t know what makes you feel good?”
Her eyes drifted up to the corner of the room.
“I bet every guy at your school knows exactly what he likes.”
She wrinkled her nose.
“Cause they’ve done plenty of personal research.”
“Okay, I get the point.” She pulled her other knee up and hugged her shins. “And number 3?”
“If your friend and her boyfriend are having good sex, they probably genuinely care about each other.”
“Maybe.”
“Which is the most important one of all.”
“Why?”
“Well, if a guy is great in bed and you care about each other, he’s going to want to put in the extra effort to make you feel good. And if you know what you like and you care about each other, you’ll feel comfortable helping him understand how to make you feel good.”
“And what if he’s just great in bed? That’s not enough?”
I took a sip of tea so I wouldn’t laugh. “It would be enough for him, but probably not for you. You know all those stories about virgins getting deflowered by sexual prodigies who give them multiple orgasms the first time they get together?”
She shrugged.
“Well, that’s a lot of bullshit.”
She tilted her head away from me.
“Trust me. That is not how most women learn about sex.”
“Oh?”
“If you wait for some guy to come along and show you where all your buttons are, it’s going to be a long time and a lot of guys before you have any sex worth having.”
“I see.”
“But if you want to have good sex sooner -like your friend- all you have to do is figure out what you like and learn how to ask for it.”
She drained her tea and put it down on her empty plate. “And then I have to find someone who actually gives a shit about me.”
“Yeah. But in the meantime, you have a choice. You can have plenty of safe sex with yourself or you can suffer through lousy sex with immature boys who think that if it feels good to them, it must feel good to you.”
She sighed.
“Have you heard that quote Sex is like pizza?”
“No.”
“It’s something like Sex is like pizza. Even when it’s bad, it’s still pretty good.”
She put her feet back on the floor. “Let me guess. A guy said that?”
“My point exactly.”
She stood to clear her plate. “Thanks for breakfast.”
“Was that enough for you?”
“Yeah, perfect.”
“I got it,” I said, taking her plate from her. “You think you have plenty of energy to masturbate then if you want to?”
She shook her head. “Jesus, Dawn.”
“Masturbating isn’t embarrassing,” I said, putting the dishes in the sink. “Embarrassing is being naked with a guy and not knowing what the heck you like.”
“I can’t handle this conversation anymore,” she said, stepping into the hallway.
I could tell by the exhaustion in her voice that she was headed back to bed.
“Oh I see,” I called after her. “You’re pretending you’re just going back to bed. Nice cover. I’ll make sure to turn up the volume on the TV.”
“I’m not going to masturbate!” she yelled just before swinging her door shut.
I turned back to the dirty dishes and laughed.
I knew she hadn’t run back to her room to touch herself. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that sooner or later, she would try it. And not only would it make her feel good, it might help her feel good with other people. Which could only be a good thing.
And to think the day’s lesson was going to be how to poach eggs in the microwave.
Chapter 9: Kate
Even though smoking weed had become a regular part of our meetings, Kevin and I somehow managed to plan a few activities for the frosh retreat.
We kept it simple and Googled team building activities that would keep the pressure off the kids. God forbid they had to come up with their own ways to feel awkward around each other. Then we eliminated any activities where anyone could get hurt if they were as unengaged as we were on our freshman retreat day. Like the trust fall.
I was a little distracted the last day we got together though, because it was the first time I’d ever been in his room. I figured we would chill on the back porch like we usually did. But his little brother had some friends over, and they were playing cops and robbers in the backyard.
So his room was the only place we would be able to get any work done. Otherwise, we risked unending invitations to play princesses, put batteries in toys, make snacks, or just listen to children rant until they figured out what it was that they wanted exactly.
Not that he wasn’t good with his siblings. On the contrary, he was totally adorable with them. In fact, that was one of the things I liked best about him. He had developed this Zen ability to chill in the midst of chaos which I both envied and found fascinating. He just didn’t take things seriously. Like he wasn’t too cool to let his sister draw a unibrow on him or pull his little brother’s finger.
My favorite thing about him, though, was how cute he was when he found something really funny. He would crack up and make this face like he couldn’t believe he could laugh so hard. Then he would catch himself and calm down right away. I’m not sure why, but something about how self-conscious he got when he forgot himself in front of me filled me with warmth. Especially when it was because of something I said.
Anyway, when we went in his room, the first thing he did was clear off a chair for me by picking up everything that was on it and dropping it in the corner. Then he closed the door, locked it, and threw a towel down in front of it. Initially, I figured he was just trying to block out the noise. But when he slid a black metal box out from under the bed and lifted it into his lap, I knew he was up to something.
Even though the box obviously had his stash in it, he kind of acted like he didn’t want me to see what was in there. So I busied myself by running my fingers along the strings of his guitar. It must have been his most prized possession because it was the only thing in the room that didn’t have anything laid or stacked on top of it.
When I heard him slide the box back under the bed, I turned back around. He was holding a packed bowl and something else I had never seen before.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to the contraption. It was a cardboard toilet paper roll, but it had something wrapped around one end.
“It’s to keep it from smelling like
weed in here.” He placed the bowl and the thingy on his nightstand and opened the window over his bedside table.
I pulled the chair across from where he was sitting on his bed and extended my hand towards the thingy.
He passed it to me.
He watched me as I turned it over in my hands. I lifted it up to examine the covered end and got a whiff of clean laundry. “Are those… dryer sheets?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh.” I handed it back to him.
He raised his eyebrows. “Watch.”
He took a small hit before covering the bowl so it would stop smoking. Then he lifted the open end of the thingy up to his mouth and kept his eyes on me as he blew the smoke out. Soon I was engulfed me in a white cloud of fragrant air that stayed together as it drifted out the open window.
“Well?” he asked, “What do you think?”
“Genius,” I said. “What do you call it?”
“I call it…” He held it out at arms’ length and looked it for a second, furrowing his thick brows. “Trying to not get grounded.”
I smiled.
He handed it to me.
I did exactly as I had seen him do and blew into the open end of the thingy until my lungs were empty and he was draped in white smoke.
“You love it,” he said.
“Is it that obvious?”
He nodded. “You’re whole face lit up like it was Christmas morning.”
“What can I say? You really know how to impress a girl.” I blushed. What was my problem? Was I just giddy from being in his room? Had breathing in the dryer sheet fumes made me stupid?
With every hit I began to feel more ridiculous. How could I be having so much fun with this monosyllabic mystery boy? Either I was a Kevin crazy fool or the weed was amazing.
As he cashed the bowl into his hand and tipped the ash out the window, I suddenly felt like my crush was too big. Like there was nowhere that it could hide in the tiny space. I felt like I had to say or do something that would distract me from the fact that my chest felt like it was opening up and trying to swallow the room.
“So I’m pretty pleased with what we’ve done so far,” I said, reaching in my bag for my lip gloss.
“What we’ve done so far?”
“Sorry. What we’ve planned for the retreat.” I hoped my lips would look extra shiny and irresistible when he was high, but he was keeping his cards close to his chest. I couldn’t tell if he liked me back or if my glossing was in vain.
“Oh. Right.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
I felt too fucked up to have his big hands so close to me, pointing at me like that. In such an intimate space. And his eyes were so big and dark. I felt like if I didn’t grip the chair with one hand, I might slip and fall into them.
“Plus, these sorts of group activities always take longer than you think,” I said, talking out of my ass.
“Right.”
I felt a lump rise from my chest and stick in my throat.
“So which activity do you think we should do first,” he said, leaning back on his hands.
“One of the icebreakers?” I suggested, looking everywhere but his lap.
“Yeah, but which one?”
“Two Truths and a Lie always goes down well.” And it was the first one I could think of.
“How does that one go again?”
“Like I would say three facts about myself...”
He nodded.
“For example, I play lacrosse, E.L Fudge Cookies are my favorite, and I love The Beatles.”
He smiled. “Well I already know you play lacrosse, and everyone loves The Beatles.”
“It was just an example.”
“I’m dying to know what your problem with E.L Fudge Cookies are though?”
“I don’t have a problem with them at all. They’re just not my favorite.”
“Oohh,” he said, rolling his eyes. “What’s your favorite then?”
“Rainbow Chip Cookies.”
He laughed. “So you’re baked then?”
I felt my cheeks grow warm at the thought of my three unremarkable facts. “Your turn.”
“I get how it works.”
“Still. Come on. It’s only fair.”
“Okay, Okay.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Let me think for a second.”
I folded my arms and leaned back in my chair.
“Okay I got it,” he said, “but you have to come sit here.”
“On your bed?”
He patted the spot next to him. “Yeah.”
I stood up and sat facing him on the bed, anchoring myself to the floor with one foot.
“Now close your eyes.”
I squinted at him. “Wait. Are we still playing Two Truths and a Lie?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m a terrible liar, though. So you have to close your eyes or you’ll be able to tell when I’m lying just by looking at my face.”
I tilted my head.
“And it will ruin the game.”
“Okay.”
“And if you sit here I’ll be able to see if you’re cheating.”
I sighed. Maybe I was wrong about him. Maybe he did take things too seriously.
“Close your eyes.”
“Oh, right.” I closed my eyes and tried not to smile even though I was suddenly in the dark -in bed- with Kevin. I took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”
“Promise me you won’t open your eyes.”
“I promise. Jeez.”
“Okay.” He exhaled and I felt the bed sink with his heavy sigh. “I can play Stairway to Heaven on my guitar, I’m afraid of horses, and I really want to kiss you right now.”
I tried to purse my lips, but I couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across my face.
“I’ll give you a hint,” he said, his voice growing quieter. “One of the truths is that I’m afraid of horses.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I got thrown off one when I was little, and I’ve been traumatized ever since.”
“Huh.” It took all my energy to keep my eyes squeezed shut. I swallowed. “I don’t know.” I could feel his eyes on me as I tried to find my voice. “Which is the lie?”
“You don’t want to guess?”
I shook my head.
He laid his thumb on my bottom lip.
I froze.
He dragged his thumb across my lip, wiping my lip gloss off and leaving my naked, parted mouth exposed.
My heart fluttered.
Then his face moved in so close to mine I could feel his warm breath on my mouth as he whispered.
“I can’t play Stairway to Heaven.”
His lips landed on mine so softly at first I wondered if I was imagining it. But a moment later his tongue gave away how much he wanted me. It was easy to keep my eyes closed after that.
I slipped my arms over his shoulders and buried my hands in his thick curls. He grabbed my thighs and pulled me into his lap until there was no space left between us.
And he didn’t stop kissing me. And he didn’t try anything else. He just held me and kissed me like it was the main event, like kissing me was all he could’ve thought to ask or hope for. And in that moment, I felt like the sexiest woman on Earth.
Later that night when I was waiting for sleep, I found myself thinking about the kiss again. I thought about the way Kevin’s lips melted against mine and how his warm tongue tasted in my mouth.
And I kept thinking about it as I stuck my hand in the space between my thighs and laid my fingers against me, as I rubbed myself until the heat in my body was concentrated in one place. And I didn’t stop until I felt myself tense up like I was squeezing him inside me.
And after the wave of energy finally crashed through me, there was nothing left.
Except a pulsing spot in my pajama pants that had become far too hot to touch.
Chapter 10: Dawn
I couldn’t stop staring at her breasts. I felt like such a guy. Thank god I didn
’t know anyone there.
But she was so beautiful I feared I couldn’t do her justice. I wanted to go up and ask her if she would be okay with me just staring instead of drawing because it had been so long since I appreciated a naked woman.
But what would the other amateur artists have thought of me then? As they politely feigned interest in their easels?
And why did I never find my own nakedness that striking? Or comforting?
It was her confidence as much as her looks that made her so captivating. Between the way she dropped her robe almost without noticing and how she draped herself over the chaise lounge, it was clear that she was the real artist in the room.
And I thought I was liberated.
She even had this soft look in her eye like she was deep in thought. Like despite the room full of people studying her nakedness, her mind was preoccupied with more pressing subjects.
I desperately wanted to know what she was thinking.
Was she meal planning? Meditating? Worried about paying her bills?
It was impossible to tell. But I had my own ideas. I hoped she was thinking about a lover. A lover whose affection was so intense she could feel his lips against her neck and her eyelids when she closed her eyes. The kind of lover who would feed her fruit in bed until they were both so overcome with passion that they ruined the sheets with the stains of crushed berries.
Now that I’d like to draw.
I could easily imagine her lying naked the same way at home, her strawberry locks falling off her shoulders as she reached down to pleasure herself and think of him. It would be so beautiful to see the expression on her face as she warmed herself through, her chest rising and falling with her breath.
Not that I would get off by watching her get off. I wasn’t a pervert.
I just couldn’t stop thinking about sex. Even more than usual. Probably because I was fast approaching death, and I was all too aware that sex was one of the things I would miss most. Not that it would be any fun without a beating heart and sensitive skin. On the bright side, I took comfort in the fact that I hadn’t wasted my only shot at this life by hiding my body away or exploring just one person, gender, or erogenous zone.
It’s not like I got horny every time I saw a naked lady. And thank god for that. Between advertisements, TV, and the internet, I couldn’t avoid naked women if I wanted to. Still, the media images I was used to seeing weren't nearly as powerful as when a single naked woman exposes herself in person as if to say here is my body. I want you to see me naked and I want it to mean something. I want to reveal more to you than I do to other people.