Sinder 1: Experimentation

by Jane Devreaux

  There are stirrups fixed to it. I can’t help but grimace as I imagine their use. I sit down on the paper that sticks to my thighs in a muffled swish and lay down trying to hold this shit in place. I watch her from the corner of the eye. I wonder if she’s married or has children. Can you really want children when you do this job?

  Her gestures seem automatic. She takes my pulse, listens to my heart, palpates my stomach and to finish, touches my breasts as if she took pleasure in it. One really needs to be a little wicked to do this kind of job.

  She puts back her instruments and at last, gives me the first smile since we walked into this freaking room. “Well, you are perfectly fine.” She reassures me. Seriously? Did she think I was worried about my health?

  “You can get dressed. I will give you a prescription for the pill and we will see each other in six months to see how it’s going.”

  To see how it’s going? To see how what is going? My breast or is it only to steal some more money from me?

  And she hasn’t even asked me what I was here for. I’m stunned; I wish I could insult her. Because we call her doctor she thinks she can take decisions for me. She hasn’t proposed anything that bitch. She thinks I’m an idiot unable to choose a means of contraception. I feel like throwing her bullshit back at her, but I can already picture her calling my mother as I’m thrown out of her sumptuous office in my birthday suit.

  Once I’m fit to be seen again, I leave the torture room and sit in the armchair facing her. I still haven’t spoken a single word, but inside, I’m boiling. I think that if I opened my mouth, only horrors would come out of it. “You will start the treatment on the first day of your next period and then every day at the same time. Once you finish the blister-pack, you will take a seven days break before starting the next one. You forget once, consider you are not protected anymore. You should also know that oral contraception can’t prevent you from getting sexually transmitted diseases. I also give you a prescription for a blood test that will need to be done quickly.”

  And she throws her speech at me like an automat, without taking her eyes off of her prescription book. This woman deserves to be slapped. Why does my mother go to her? Are they friends? Have they been to school together? This chick is light years from the people my mother usually appreciates.

  The appointment has barely lasted 5 minutes for a total of 200 dollars. What a scam! Seriously, isn’t she ashamed of screwing around with people?

  I kept my teeth clenched the whole time, even to say goodbye. I was too scared of unwinding on her bullshit and getting in trouble for it. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, so to speak. If I have the choice, next time, I’ll see somebody else. I have goose bumps just thinking about her. In the bus on my way back I force myself to forget about her. I still have a lot to do.

  I run back home to take the old cart I keep hidden behind the house and hurry to the closest minimarket.

  At the street corner I end up nose to nose with Josh’s mother, as always all spruced up with her strict designer suit. And in my haste I almost send her flying into my cart. She gives me a blaming look with her blue eyes before walking away a tat staggering. I’m sure she doesn’t even know who I am. How can she and Josh be related? Of course they look alike but only physically. This woman makes me break out into a cold sweat.

  I quickly stock up on food and linger on the condom section after making sure nobody is watching me. There’s so much to choose from that I don’t know which way to look first. What are all those variants for in such a small piece of plastic? You can choose the material, the shape, the texture, the flavor, the color, the thickness, the length, the size…I zone out for a moment, I don’t get the point of this. Is it for collectors? I freeze in front of them like a child in front of sweets and the little boxes remind me of candy bags, as if they were to be used without any restrain. Fuck, those morons are gifted; I want to take them all, believing the miracles they promise on their packs and without a thought I throw the Pleasure pack, tropical, performax… to join the yogurts, cakes and other food.into the cart.

  I don’t want to linger around here, I’m too ashamed and don’t even know why. Fuck, everybody goes through this, I’m no exception, so where’s the problem? As I leave the section I see a pack of female condoms. Without taking time to stop I discreetly throw one in my cart. I’m in a hurry to leave this place.

  Before going to the checkout, I make a stop at the body hair removal section. I’m more at ease here but still, if a mother passed by me I would turn crimson red. It’s crazy the effect their fucking maternal instinct has on them. I find it disgusting and that’s why I never want to have kids. Whatever, luckily there’s never much people in old Dorel’s minimarket. After a moment of hesitation, I decide to take a hot wax kit and a bikini special depilatory cream.

  As always, Nancy the Goth is chewing a gum daydreaming. She’s been working here for a year and every time, I wonder why she’s still here, considering she permanently has her long face on. I put my groceries on the belt hiding well the condom packs, way too numerous to go unnoticed. As she starts scanning my stuff I pray for her not to notice anything. Yet, I really don’t give a shit about what she can think. This gal is a drop-out that must be sniffing crap when she’s not here.

  Luckily, she’s so elsewhere that my kinky purchase goes unnoticed. Her blurred eyes are stuck on the cash register’s screen as if it didn’t exist. The dark rings under her eyes are marked and her cheeks are dangling even though she must barely be thirty. It only takes one look at her to pass the envy of dieting to anyone. She can go from super skinny to really chubby in barely six months and these changes are so recurrent that I never know which stage she’s at.

  “Sandre! Hello! How are you doing?”

  I’m startled by the deep voice calling out to me. I freeze, a pink and yellow pack of condoms still in my hand. The old guy smiling at me as if I was an angel sent from heaven could have almost made my heart stop from fear. Why does the father of Will the nerd always have to ask how I’m doing as if we had been close in a previous life?

  “Um…Fi…fine!” I mumble, hiding the small pack behind my back.

  “Great! What about your parents?” He insists.

  What the hell does he care this idiot? I’m sure he’s never talked to them. He’s not the type my parents used to mix with, so what is up with the obsessive courtesy? I’m sure he’s one of those church mice who think they need to help their next of kin. Do I look like I need help?

  “Um…Very good! Have a nice day!” I slip away without giving him time to worry any more. What a moron!

  When I’m done putting my things away, the afternoon’s already well under way and I still need to work on my lessons. I really want to hold on to my grade and it’s out of the question for me to get in my teachers’ cross hairs. For now, they are ignoring me, so am I, and everybody is happy this way.

  As I go upstairs I come across the condoms that are taunting me at the bottom of the stairs. I’ve put them there when I got home and have forgotten about them. I take one of each and unwrap them once I get to my room. The female one is unbelievably wide, as if there was so much room in there. Fuck I could fit my arm in this. We are not cows for what I know. Inside it, a plastic circle is there to, according to the manual, hold it in place. After a moment of hesitation, I decide to try it. You have to make an eight with the plastic and stick in all in. I’m telling you, it’s much easier to insert a tampon. After half an hour of tearing up my pussy, I give up and decide to take another trip to my parents’ bathtub, just to relax my nerves after this terribly frustrating experience. I’m dying of embarrassment when I think that my parents could walk in on me here, even though I know very well there’s not a chance.

  6 — Josh

  I can’t get the conversation I had with the rebel out of my head. That girl’s crazy to say things like that. Does she think it’s that easy? You find a girl, sleep with her and go on with your life as if nothing had happened. I wonder if she’s d
one this, but I’m sure she hasn’t. I never saw her talk to anyone, well except that kiddo that has been sticking to her these past few days.

  When I got to school on Friday, I felt like virgin was written all over my face. And the guys have been harassing me to get all the details but I know nothing, except that she really made a fool out of me.

  Since then, I can’t help but wonder about the others, about who has done it. And in the end, I guess there maybe aren’t that much of those, because those who did take the plunge really aren’t hiding it at all.

  Last night, I dreamt that I was doing it with Sandre. It was incredibly torrid and disturbing. Her big black eyes fixing me domineeringly, she was the one in charge and each of her hip thrusts had a bigger effect on me than the previous one. In my dream she was beautiful and extraordinarily sexy. A perfect body to die for. She wasn’t saying anything, but her moans were betraying her pleasure. As a result, I woke up all sweaty and with wood. Impossible to get her harmonious curves and her haunting back and forth movements out of my head.

  That’s why I spent the day at the stadium, to forget this disturbing picture. This girl is the last person I would like to do it with, so why does my subconscious have to come up with this kind of images?

  I’ve taken my decision, tonight, at Boby’s party, I’ll find myself a girl and will take care of the problem. I’m over motivated when I pick up Marcy early evening. She’ll want to go home early and I’ll go back without her. But when I see her, as always perfect, all my will vanishes. I wish it was her. I’ve never wanted anyone else.

  Her mother gives me tons of recommendations before letting us go. Every time I take her out to a party it’s the same story: “Josh, you can’t drink, you are driving.” “And I will not tolerate my daughter coming home drunk.”, “I know boys your age, they only think about one thing, but don’t even try to think about it…” “MOM!” Marcy pleads.

  Mrs Shepard grimaces, but she complies. Marcy pushes me out of the house before the ordeal takes on again. I sigh noisily, relieved to have survived the test once more. The old Shepard will end up castrating me. And as I run down the stairs dragging her daughter by the hand, she adds:

  “And Marcy is not the kind of girl you can cheat on behind her back.”

  I instantly freeze. She guessed it! I feel shame invade me, I hate her mother, she’s unbelievable.

  “Don’t listen to her.” Marcy whispers smiling at me compassionately while I have trouble coming to my senses.

  I have to get that control freak and her uptight ideas out of my head. She knows nothing about life. I pity her husband, he must really get bored with her.

  I drag Marcy to my old red Mustang waiting for us quietly. I’m proud of my ride. I’ve worked my ass off last summer to pay for it.

  Once inside, I put my hand around her waist and gently pull her against me as I press my lips against hers and run my fingers through her incredibly silky hair. As always, Marcy is gorgeous. She has opted for super skinny jeans and a see-through blouse that lets you make out a magnificent lacy bra. I have a terrible urge to slip my hand in it, but I know she’ll take it badly, so I settle for gently slipping my tongue between her full lips. The feeling is to die for, soft, warm, exquisite, perfect, but she already puts a stop to our embrace and I’m frustrated. If only she knew what state of mind I’m in today. I’m in need of physical contact really bad.

  Of course, in front of her parents I only kiss her on the cheek. They know we go a little further than that, but I think they would be shocked if they saw me as little as brush against her lips in front of them. I can see where she gets it all from. And I’m sick at the thought of her mother’s recommendations. That old shrew wants my death!

  As I rev the engine to distract my hormones that have fully recovered despite old Shepard’s threats, Marcy puts on the sweater she’s brought just in case. I know she’s not cold, but she’s certainly spotted me eyeing her splendid neckline.

  Marcy doesn’t like this kind of parties where everybody is fondling each other out in the open. I’m sure it gives her ideas even though she’ll never admit it. That’s why she never wears dresses to parties; it would be too easy for me to awaken her desire.

  “Don’t rev the engine in front of my house. You’ll scare my parents.” She grumbles adjusting her seat belt.

  Hard return to reality. Marcy has always had a gift to cool my ardors.

  Boby is one of my best friends on the football team. He’s lucky to have a huge isolated house and frequently absent parents. His parties are awesome, with alcohol flowing because he looks way older than he is and can get it with an off-putting ease. Boby is almost 6’7”, so impressive that most girls don’t even dare to come close to him. And yet he’s a big teddy bear that would deserve a nice girl, but he only attracts the profiteers that want to be invited to his parties. Sometimes, he takes advantage of it, but he’s never stayed very long with a girl.

  We have not left the car yet that the music is already resonating in the compartment. As we get closer, I hug Marcy and kiss her forehead. She gives me a shy smile and hides her face on my neck. There are lovebirds kissing all around and I know it makes her feel uncomfortable. I spot Ron, our wide receiver, fondling one of Marcy’s friends, hidden behind a big pine tree. He looks at me mischievously and puts a finger on his mouth. We both know that if Marcy discovered what’s going on, it wouldn’t be a pleasant sight. A little further a junkie is undressing a young lady that I don’t know, barely hidden behind a flowered bush. The park surrounding the house has the advantage of having lots of nice spots to do little unorthodox things and they couldn’t find better.

  I lift Marcy’s too perfect face to make her look at me. Her big blue eyes, that seem to be handling perfectly well the situation, are deep in mine and I shiver thinking about what I’m about to say. I’m going to shock her but I still want to give it a try. If she knew what I have planned she might change her mind, but I would never dare to tell her about that.

  “Boby could lend us his room so we could spend some quiet time together.”

  She stares at me as if I was planning a bank robbery. “You know very well how I feel about this.” She tells me with a softness that could almost surprise me.

  “But we don’t have to do it. I would just like to be alone with you for a moment.”

  My urging sounds like a pleading and she stops. Her face shows no emotion whatsoever, as always.

  Her hands slide up my chest and caress my chin I didn’t bother to shave. Her lips brush against mine and she whispers almost inaudibly:

  “You want it too bad to stay reasonable.”

  I know it means no and my heart breaks violently. If she could know about the huge mistake I’m about to make. I’d like to ask her when, to know if she’s on the edge of giving in, but I already know the answer. God has to approve all of our acts if we want to live in peace with ourselves. She never said it out loud but I know it means marriage. I can’t possibly marry her fresh out of high school just to satisfy my urges. Of course I love her like crazy. She could well be the right one, but I’m too young for this bullshit.

  We have barely passed the door when Lucy jumps all over her. Apparently, Elsa is going out with Leo and they’re exposing themselves on the pool table in Boby’s huge game room. I could go and enjoy the view, but I don’t think I can handle this right now. I can already feel my penis harden, ready to throw itself at anyone. And, Marcy might want to lecture her friend and I know I’ll be embarrassed by it. It’s as if she was yelling: Look at us, we are still pure and proud of it. Seriously, do I look proud of it?

  I leave the imminent danger area and find Steve and Boby drinking beers in the kitchen. Boby hands one to me, but I want something stronger. With the castrating mother, the too sexy and prude Marcy and the couples fondling all over the place I need to clear my head. Well actually my balls, but for now, a whiskey will do. Shoot! Stop it Josh! You sound like Sandre!

  I’ve already knocked back half of my gl
ass when I hear the first lecturing tones resonating in the whole room, followed by some giggles. Steve leans out the door to have a better view at the show.

  “Your nun’s gone all preachy again.” Says Steve mockingly.

  I stare at him. Here it is; he will annoy me with his Don Juan advice again. And in one swallow I finish my glass that burns my tongue and help myself to another one. “Leave him alone, he’s in love.” Boby steps in.

  “But love can’t drain your balls.” Steve insists. “Do you know how the cars that never get drained end up?” “Shut up Steve!”

  That asshole talks like the rebel. I should introduce them to each other, they’d make an…explosive couple. I smile imagining them fighting like two old lovers. Oh damn it! I’ve barely thought about her that my erotic dream comes slamming back in my head. Her hips to die for, her soft and firm breasts, her thin waist…no, this girl could never be such a….turn on (no I did not just think that!).

  OH MY GOD, I have to stop thinking about it. And as if he wanted to punish me for profaning his name (I mean God here!), Roger bursts in with crunchy details about the night’s hot couple and I bolt down my glass again to clear my indecent thoughts.

  It’s not possible to want it this much! And why does everybody have to talk about it all the time? I’m going to crack; I can’t take it any longer.

  When Marcy turns up, surrounded by a luminous halo like ghosts in movies, I realize I maybe overdid the whiskey a bit. She hugs me and I cuddle up to her, frustrated, searching for her gorgeous bottom that I’d like to feel naked under my fingers.