Losing Virginity

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.