If ever there was a cinematically perfect couple, Connor and I came close to fitting the bill. We didn’t spend disgusting amounts of time together, nor did we engage in much public fondling, but we had a chemistry of personality that was hard to match. People hung around us just so they could laugh at our antics. Connor knew more bad knock-knock jokes than anyone on campus. He kept me busy for two solid weeks.
My personal favorite:
Connor: alright, I need your help with this one.
Me: what do I do?
Connor: say “knock, knock”
Me: ok…knock, knock
Connor: who’s there?
I really did like him. He was the first steady boyfriend I’d ever had. We went on pointless adventures all the time, and he was quickly accepted by my friends. He was charismatic, creative, and energetic. Needless to say, they practically welcomed him with open arms. With Connor involved, the group experienced a substantial social upgrade. He is still famous for hosting the cowboys and Indians surprise party. It was supposed to be a birthday party for our friend John Lee, but it turned into a full blown Western extravaganza, complete with cap-gun pistols, plastic sheriff badges, glow stick tomahawks, and Value Village Indian headdresses. Everyone made so much noise that the cops had surrounded the apartment and shut us down by 12:30. It was the best party I’ve ever been to, and I don’t say that lightly.
However, for all of our antics and adventures, we spent very little time getting acquainted with each other physically. Connor believed that I was shy, so he took things as slow as his developing libido would allow. I, on the other hand, was confused with myself. I had such vivid dreams at night…very, very naughty dreams. I may have even climaxed once. I woke up panting in a bundle of sweaty sheets. I used to sit in class and squirm in my seat, excited to go and cuddle with Connor. I daydreamed about all the perverted things I wanted him to do to me. I imagined what our first time would be like, and it made me warm inside. So, why did I get so nervous if he massaged my hips while I was lying on top of him? Why did I feel sick when his hands wandered under my shirt while we were kissing?
With no improvement in sight, and our 5-month anniversary right around the corner, I grudgingly sought advice from my new best friend, Sarah. As much as I detested admitting my sexual dysfunction aloud, it was worse trying to hold my boyfriend at arm’s length. It got harder all the time. Connor was starting to push me further. His hands wandered higher up my back, and his kisses had a new sense of urgency in them. I started to shake when his fingers tugged on my bra strap impatiently, and if he tried anything south of my bellybutton, my mind became a haze of panic. It took all my self-control not to throw him off, which, I knew, wasn’t a good thing. I began to feel that something was wrong with me, and I wanted to get it fixed very, very soon. Unfortunately, when I met Sarah at the dorm for a “serious talk” one afternoon, she wasn’t as concerned as I’d hoped she’d be.
“I’m asexual,” I moaned, cherry-red face pressed against my palms, “I don’t know what to do.”
“I think it’s cute,” Sarah said, giggling lightly. “Cut yourself some slack.” She leaned back and tapped a pen on her English book.
“It’s Puritannical,” I replied, picking the rubber off my shoes. “He’s gonna get sick of me. He’s gonna go find another girl who will fuck him senseless every night.”
“Stop moping, Devon,” she threw a gum wrapper at me. “Connor loves you. You’re lucky.”
“What?” I looked up from my shoes, face white as a sheet.
Sarah’s smile faltered. “Is that bad?”
“He loves me? H-how do you know?”
She threw up her hands in defense. “It’s not like he told me or anything, I can just tell by the way he looks at you.”
“The way he looks at me…” I trailed off, eyes boring into the wall behind Sarah’s head.
“Oh, love,” she chucked her notebook on the desk and took a seat cross-legged next to me on the floor. “Relationships have scary moments sometimes. It’s okay.”
I bristled as her arm brushed past mine. Her hand on my shoulder raised goose bumps. I could feel my body crawling with fire ants. She didn’t usually touch me, right? Or did she? Suddenly, I wanted to leave, but I wanted to stay. I felt really strange. I didn’t want to think about Connor. I wanted Sarah to call me love again.
“I should go,” I mumbled faintly, but my body didn’t move.
Sarah stroked my hair once or twice. Her fingers left trails of fire on my head. “What’s wrong, babe?”
I glanced over furtively. Her almond eyes were scrunched up. Her mouth was a hard straight line. I felt my heart beat faster as her hand settled lightly on my knee.
“I have to go.” I scrambled to my feet, snatching my knapsack off the floor.
Her eyes widened as I hurried for the door, tripping over lamp cords and laundry on my way. “Devon! Come back!”
“I have to go! I have to talk to Connor!”
I slammed the door and heaved a sigh of relief. She couldn’t touch me anymore. I didn’t want to be touched.
I don’t want to go into too much detail about Sarah. All you need to know is that I hated the way she touched me. It made me feel all kinds of strange. Nobody else made me feel that way, certainly not Connor. It was nervewracking. I also hated the way she dressed. Her deep-V t-shirts showed off more cleavage than I was comfortable seeing. I had to remind myself to look into her face on more than one occasion. It was like her boobs were magnetic. My eyes were always glued to them. This effect only got worse with dresses because Sarah favored the strapless, club hopping variety. I turned three shades of red at Winter Formal when she came over to hug me in a tiny black party dress. I wanted to tear that hot little number right off her body. It’s not like I had any idea what I would’ve done after that, but my imagination kept turning anyway. Did I mention her legs?
Oh, god…her legs…
I suppose I felt less guilty about staring at her legs. I mean, ogling your friend’s breasts is weird, but nobody said that admiring nice legs was off the table. I soothed my conscience this way every time we went to the gym. I loved it just a little too much when she wore her running shorts. Her legs were always smooth and always tan, toned from five years of varsity track. They just went on forever. I wished everyday that God would grant me some excuse to touch them, to feel them. They looked so smooth.
I suppose I could explain our relationship further, but for the sake of time, I’d better move on. You still haven’t met Brianna, or Tiffany for that matter. We still have a lot of ground to cover.
On the night of our 5-month anniversary, my friends planned a Jackie Chan-themed surprise party. I wasn’t shocked at all. They were always looking for an excuse to put on costumes and drink. So, when Connor and I returned from a romantic evening at our favorite sushi place, neither of us was shocked to find two-dozen people dressed like thrift store ninjas hiding behind the furniture.
“Surprise!!!” They cried, jumping up with cameras and camcorders.
There were five or six flashes of blinding light which left me visually impaired for the next five minutes. The lights went on and we were immediately smothered with hugs.
Connor dodged an enthusiastic embrace and grabbed me by the ear. “Meet me in the bedroom later.”
My fingertips quivered, but there was little time to dwell on my virginity. John Lee was shoving a gin and tonic into my hand, Eric was draping silver beads around my neck, and Adriana was trying to tie something around my forehead as the crowd swept me forward into the living room. It was one of those parties where everyone came drunk, and by 11:00 it had inevitably spiraled out of control. Too many people showed up. It was more than John and Eric had invited, but it was hard to keep them out. John was sloppy drunk all over a Korean tennis player, and Eric was manning beer distribution in the kitchen.
“Hey, you!” Eric hollered, “5 bucks! Yeah, you! 5 bucks right here! No beer until you pay!”
I pushed my way to the front of the line. “How’s it goin’, Eric?!”
“Hey, Devon! Happy anniversary!”
“Thanks! Have you seen Connor?”
“Who? Connor?! Nope! Have a beer!”
Eric shoved a Corona Extra into my hand and turned to hassle a sophomore for money. I wandered out of the kitchen and went to look for Connor, but he was either out of sight, or out of the party completely. I scanned the living room one more time to be sure, but he was nowhere in sight. Was he already waiting for me in the bedroom? A wave of panic seared across my chest. I took a long drag on my Corona, only my second drink of the night, and skirted around the beer pong table to the back room.
“Hey, Devon! I need you on my team! Devon!”
I shook my head at John Lee, who was summoning me from the far side of a long, brown folding table. He clutched his precious beer in one hand and tennis girl in the other.
“Come on, Dev! You and me! Let’s show these fuckers how to play beer pong!”
“I need to find Connor!” I shouted.
I stumbled past the line for the bathroom, narrowly missing some girl passed out on the floor. Disgusted, I jerked the broken doorknob to the left and stumbled into the room.
It was empty.
My boyfriend had made his rickety twin bed, something that almost never happened. There was a bouquet of tropical flowers on the nightstand, and thick, white candles on his windowsill. The candles flickered and hissed, throwing an orange glow onto the bare, Kelly green walls. I blushed in spite of myself. Connor was being so sweet. He wanted me to be comfortable. He really did love me. If ever there were a time in my short life to be courageous…
I swallowed the rest of my beer. Liquid courage, and nothing else, would get me through this. I moved to sit on the bed, and was starting to take off my sweater when the door opened. Noise from the apartment washed over me as the blood drained from my face. Unfortunately, it was only Sarah who staggered into the room, slamming the door unceremoniously behind her.
I found myself irritated.
“Sarah, what’re you doing here?!”
“Oh, hey, Devon!” Sarah dipped to the left, and swerved to the right, finally steering a crash-landing onto the bed beside me. “Happy anner-versary! I was looking for you everywhere! You and Connor are so cute!”
“Um, thanks. Why did you come in here?”
She rubbed her eyes like a 3 year old. “Because I’m tired…”
“Well, you can’t sleep in her.”
“Why?!” She scrunched up her lips.
“Uh…I’m waiting for Connor. You know this is his room, right?”
“Yeah,” she covered her eyes and sighed. “I…guess that makes sense.”
I tapped my feet on the floor and waited, but she had already forgotten what we were talking about. “Do you want me to walk you home?”
“Okay…do you want me to take you back out to the party?”
“Fine, what do you want to do?”
She giggled. “I wanna stay here with you. I’m so…so tired.”
“Ummm…” I glanced up at the door anxiously, but she dropped her head onto my shoulder. “Okay, yeah I guess you can stay for a minute.”
“Thanks, Devie…can I call you Devie?”
“Oh, Devie you’re so funny!”
I smirked. “You really think so?”
She nodded seriously. “Yes, I do.” She sighed and swooned onto my shoulder again. “You’re so fuckin’ nice. I think you should get married.”
“Married?!” I blanched. “To who?! Connor?”
“Yeah,” she leaned all 138 lbs of her weight against me. “You should get married in Hawaii, and…and invite me.”
“Uh, sure. Yeah, I’ll do that…would you get off me, please?”
“If you marry Connor I’ll miss you so much!” She wrapped her arms around me like an octopus, “you’re such a good friend, Devie.”
“Thanks,” I grunted. “God, you’re heavy…”
“I think you’re so pretty.”
“Huh?” I glanced at Sarah, who was rubbing her face against my shoulder.
“No wonder Connor loves you so much. You’re so pretty…and your hair is so black!” she stared up at me unsteadily.
“It’s dark brown,” I said, swallowing. Her hands were touching my neck.
“That’s okay. It’s still beautiful.” She kissed my cheek.
“Whoa!” My eyes were as wide as quarters. “How much did you drink?”
“I dunno,” she sighed, “I don’t really care.” Her hands were under my shirt, kneading my stomach.
“I should take you home.” My voice was fainter; higher and thinner.
Sarah pulled herself upright, which must have taken an unusual amount determination, and swung her leg across my lap. “Not now, Devon! Silly goose!”
She was straddling me. Her face was inches from mine. I felt the breath catch in my throat. My fingertips began to throb. Where to put my hands? Sarah wrapped her arms around my neck, leaning in close to kiss my cheek again.
“Sarah…” I felt my face burning.
She kissed my nose and my chin. Her lips traced my jaw line and landed gently against the soft flesh at the base of my neck.
My chest heaved. My eyelids fluttered. Heat rose like lava inside me, from the pit of my stomach to the top of my skull. My face flushed red with pleasure as she placed careful kisses above my chest. My head lolled back, and I had to steady myself with one hand on the bedspread. Sarah’s tongue darted out to tease me. It flicked across the side of my neck, traced my muscle and teased my ear. My arms crept forward, hooked Sarah around the waist, and pulled her tight against me. The blood in my ears was pounding. My eyes saw nothing but blonde hair and soft skin. I kissed her collarbone and breathed in her scent.
“I love you, Devon,” Sarah whispered. Her voice was sloppy and low. “Don’t marry Connor or I’ll be sad. “
She pressed her warm, swollen lips against mine. The fire inside me purred, growing to fill all parts of my body. I knotted my fingers in her hair and experienced a rush I’d never felt before, pounding in my ears, urging me forward like the crack of a whip. I had an insatiable thirst for her. I tasted her lips with my tongue, begging entry. My hands demanded more of her flesh, massaging her hips gently, vigorously. I didn’t know exactly what to do. I didn’t know how to do what I wanted to do. I just kissed her. I pulled her fast against my chest and tried to get a little bit of the satisfaction that I needed from her lips.
Sarah moaned when my tongue entered her mouth. Her hands were snarled in my hair. Her hips began to slide up and down. She wanted to be fucked. Her breath was hot. Her kisses were heavy. My core began to throb. I wanted her. I wanted to fuck her.
Sarah was gone, and I was disoriented. “Connor…?”
“What the fuck are you guys doing?”
I blinked. I had no idea what was going on.
He stared at me as though I’d risen from the dead in front of him. “I’m gonna take Sarah home, and when I come back, you need to be gone.”
My stomach heaved. “Connor! No, I-“
“Go home.” His eyes were stone.
“Go home, Devon”
He turned away from me, took Sarah by the shoulders and steered her toward the door.
“Bye, Devon!” she waved, tripping on her own feet. “Happy anner-versary!”
I choked when the door slammed. Tears rushed into my eyes. Sarah was drunk, but I…I was hardly even tipsy.
I had no one to blame.