Sweetest Taboo (20 page)

Liz’s bright eyes dimmed a bit, and her face fell. “Yeah, I understand,” she said slowly. “It’s probably not a good idea for you to tell me everything, anyhow. You know, in case the police decide to torture me for information!” She shrieked with laughter and threw a pillow at me. “I can’t believe you guys finally did something more than just make out!”

I shook my head somberly. “Well it didn’t go much farther than that, to be honest. We tried to … you know … but it didn’t work. He finally stopped, and told me that he didn’t think I was ready. You can’t believe how frustrated and embarrassed I felt, Liz. I mean, mentally and emotionally I was there, I wanted it, I wanted him to be the
one
, you know, but my body was just rejecting him. I swear I never thought it would be so difficult to have sex. Anyway, I told him to keep trying, I even said it didn’t hurt that much, but I think he saw right through me because after a few more attempts, he stopped and just held me in his arms. He was really sweet about it. He told me that he wanted me to be ready, and we would try again some other time, but he didn’t want to hurt me.”

“That’s it?” Liz asked, disappointed.

I shrugged. “Yep. We got dressed and I told him I had to get home. I was so embarrassed, and I just wanted to leave. He wanted to cuddle with me, kiss me, and hold me in his arms, but I was so upset with myself that I just wanted to go. It was like my body had let me down.”

Liz frowned. “Isabel, don’t be so hard on yourself. Don’t worry. I bet next time it will be much easier. Remember how much I told you it hurt the first time Brad and I had sex? How we had to keep trying? Next time it will happen, you’ll see. Now tell me, when are you going back?”

“He asked me to spend the night tomorrow,” I replied. “It’s our only opportunity to spend the night together, since my parents and his wife come back on Monday. I want to try again. Liz, I’m completely in love with him, and I know I don’t want to lose my virginity to anyone else. I just hope it hurts a little less next time.”

“Don’t worry, Isabel. You have to concentrate on relaxing, okay? When you’re with him tomorrow night, you just need to relax your whole body and just let go. It’ll hurt less.”

“I’ll just tell my brother that I’m spending the night here at your house,” I told her. “He won’t care, he’s so busy these days. But just in case he calls, which he won’t, just make sure you answer the phone and tell him that I’m in the shower or something.”

“Sure thing,” Liz replied. She grabbed a hold of my hands and looked at me earnestly. “Look, tomorrow it’ll happen. Don’t worry about it – you just have to relax and let your mind and body go.”

Tomorrow would be my night; I was sure of it, and I was prepared to do whatever I could to make the night not only pleasurable but memorable as well.

Chapter Seventeen

No Ordinary Love

S
unday afternoon dragged on endlessly. The spring days were drawn out and the sun didn’t set until well past 8 o’clock in the evening. I began nursing a glass of red wine from the open bottle that my parents had left on the kitchen counter. She would hardly notice if the bottle were slightly emptier than before. As a Chilean, I was raised with wine on the dinner table, and I’d started drinking the beverage during holidays or family gatherings when I was fourteen. I enjoyed the soft, tart drink for the warmth it brought to my body, and I thought it would help me relax.

I finished the generous glass and switched to water, then went to sit on the couch. I had on my most comfortable clothes – gray sweats and an old t-shirt – and felt more relaxed than I had in weeks. It was nearly time for Tom to call and let me know that it was safe to drive to his house, and I was ready for the night to begin.

I snatched the phone up immediately when it rang. “Hello?”

“Are you busy?” came a deep voice on the other end of the line.

“Not really,” I said with a broad grin on my face. “Did you have any plans?”

“Actually, I thought maybe you could come over and spend the night,” Tom said playfully. “What do you think?”

Tom always enjoyed playing these little games with me. Instead of saying “All right, it’s all clear, you can come over now,” he acted as if we hadn’t planned this whole thing out. He loved the idea that we were playing things by ear, and being spontaneous.

“Mmm, good idea,” I whispered softly into the phone. “I think I’m up for that. But I must warn you, I’m in my sweats and a t-shirt.”

“Sweetheart, just come as you are.”

“All right, I can be there in ten minutes.”

When I hung up the phone and stood up, my head began to spin a little. I realized that if I wanted to make it to Tom’s house safely, I had to at least sober up a little first. I walked to the kitchen for a second glass of water, brushed my teeth, sprayed on some perfume, combed my hair, and put some Vaseline on my lips. By the time I was done, I was feeling confident enough to drive the few miles across town. I grabbed my keys, made sure all of the doors were locked, and walked toward my car.

I made it to Tom’s house without any mishaps, and parked directly across the street this time. When I reached Tom’s front door, I saw that the house was completely dark except for the porch light. I knocked softly and waited. The night air was breezy, but warm, and I could just make out the scent of star jasmine.

As I waited, I reconsidered my attire.
Sweats?
I thought.
What’s wrong with me?
The women in romance novels didn’t seduce their men wearing sweatpants and t-shirts! I hadn’t been paying attention when I left the house, and even if I had been, I couldn’t show up at a married man’s door dressed in nothing but a robe or wearing sexy Victoria’s Secret lingerie. Sweats were appropriate, I assured myself, and would throw off any suspicion. Although I was still concerned a prying neighbor would see me at his doorstep, I tried not to worry and focus on what would happen when I walked through the door.

The door creaked open and Tom stood in the dim light of what appeared to be flickering candles inside. He extended his hand toward me.

“Come on, Isabel, before anyone sees you,” he muttered.

Tom led me into the dimly lit living room, holding my hand. The smell of his freshly washed hair reminded me of the first time we had hugged, and I shivered. He looked at me anxiously then smiled.

“Are you ready for bed?”

“Of course,” I whispered, hoping I had brushed my teeth well enough to camouflage the scent of wine on my breath.

Tom nodded and led me toward the stairs. I was surprised; I had thought we would end up on the living room sofa again. I tried to imagine sleeping with Tom in the bed he shared with his wife, and failed. I was surprised that he seemed comfortable with the idea.

When we finally made it to the top of the carpeted staircase, a flickering light coming from the open bedroom door illuminated the small hallway. More candles, I thought. To my left was a door with two colorful wooden nameplates hanging from two white nails: Nell and Erin. His daughters’ shared bedroom. I looked away, feeling the first inkling of guilt.

Tom led me into his bedroom, and I looked quickly around. The candle on top of the chest of drawers directly in front of the bed was the only source of light in the entire room. There were no picture frames, mementos, or even paintings on the walls. Had Tom taken everything down? Above the bed, a rectangular window sat in the wall, covered with a white fabric curtain. The curtain was only partially drawn, allowing a stream of soft light to filter through. The moonlight cloaked the bed with a subtle, romantic glow.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Isabel,” Tom whispered. He took my hands in his and motioned me to sit next to him. I said nothing, and he moved to stroke my hair softly. “I don’t know what happened in Chile, but I’m so happy you’re back here, back in my arms.”

“I don’t really want to talk about Chile,” I said, not meeting his eyes. The rumpled sheet felt cool under the palm of my hand and the carpeted floor still had faint vacuum marks on it. “What I need you to know is that I was careless with my friends and that’s how the police got involved … but I never, ever meant for anything bad to happen to you. I’m so sorry about what you had to go through.”

Tom inched his way toward me; our bodies met softly and with purpose, and within seconds, we were lying comfortably side-by-side on the mattress. Tom’s lips tasted mine as if for the first time and his tongue was warm and fluid in my mouth; I could feel it twirl around mine softly. He moved from my lips to my neck, and when it was time to remove my t-shirt, he stopped.

“Isabel, are you sure you’re ready?” he asked. “I mean, are you really sure you want to do this? I need to know that you don’t feel pressured and this is something you really want to do.”

“There’s nothing I want more,” I assured him. “I’m very ready for this. I want it to be with you. There’s no pressure here, I’m doing this because it’s what I want.”

My words were enough. I lost track of time as Tom traced my body with his mouth and gentle touch. He spent nearly half of the time making love to me with his moist lips and wet tongue. I welcomed his body on mine, to do what it pleased. After what seemed like forever, Tom sat up in bed and reached for the small drawer on the nightstand. My eyes followed his movement as he took out a white tube. He unscrewed the small cap and squeezed a small amount of the transparent gel onto his forefinger.

“This is a lubricant,” Tom said; he recapped the tube and placed it back in the nightstand where it belonged, and then he resumed his position next to me in bed. He took his forefinger and rubbed the gel gently
there
. “Hopefully it’ll ease your pain a little bit. The last thing I want is to hurt you.”

“Look, no matter what, my first time is going to hurt,” I told him. “I’ve just got to get past that. I just ask that you’re gentle. After the first time, it should be fine. So for now, don’t worry about me. If it’s too much for me to handle, I’ll let you know.”

Tom began to kiss me again, first tenderly and then passionately. After a few minutes of intense kissing, I could feel Tom’s stiffness rubbing up against me, now slippery with gel. The slight pressure of his sex against my skin was driving me crazy, and he continued to tease me until I could no longer control myself. I wanted, I needed to feel him inside of me or I would burst with desire. Tom’s body began thrusting gently into mine. Although I still felt a reminiscent sting, the pain was much less severe. My insides still convulsed and attempted to expel the intrusion, but each gentle thrust brought with it a titillating feeling that gradually overcame the pain I felt.

I moved with Tom, feeling him inch inward with every thrust, and the pressure I felt, similar to what I had felt yesterday afternoon, increased. Then I felt my insides tear open, as if from one end to the other, and the pressure was replaced with a burning feeling as Tom made his way deeper and deeper into me. The pain overwhelmed me and I bit down on my lip to stop from screaming out in pain. I suffered in silence; I would have to feel this pain to finally feel pleasure, so it was now or never.

“Isabel, are you okay?” Tom asked as he eased his movement. “Should I stop? Does it hurt too much?”

“I’m fine,” I gasped. In spite of my pain, I wanted him to finally orgasm so my body could take a break and begin to heal itself. “Don’t stop, just keep going.”

Calling out my name, Tom climaxed; although my body was exhausted from the pain of being ripped open for the first time, I reveled in the feeling of Tom’s first orgasm with me. A warm emotion rushed through my body and although I was nowhere near reaching a physical orgasm, I felt an emotional climax that was unlike anything I had ever experienced before.

I held onto Tom lovingly as he lay on top of me, kissing my neck tenderly and caressing my hair. At that precise moment, I wanted to hold on to this man forever. I wanted never to let him go, to lie like this for eternity. This was the closest and most intimate moment I had ever spent with another human being and although the pain was indescribable, I was in a state of absolute bliss.

Chapter Eighteen

Sweet Surrender

T
he break of dawn ushered in a lovely pale yellow glow, which woke me from a peaceful slumber. Could it have all been a dream? My body felt heavy but at peace and I realized that Tom was resting against me, snuggling at my side. I could hardly believe it; here I was, lying in a matrimonial bed with a married man, enjoying the afterglow of losing my virginity to the man I loved. I held on to Tom’s warm body and relished the moment, knowing that we’d have to part ways soon. My fingers twirled around his dirty blonde locks, waking him from sleep.

“What time is it?” he whispered, half asleep. “Are we late for school?”

Glancing at the antique clock on the wall next to the bed, I replied, “It’s only five thirty, so we still have some time.”

Tom took a firm hold of me again. “Isabel, I wish we could stay like this forever. I want to hold you in my arms every night until the day I die.”

He began to kiss me passionately; our bodies rolled from one side of the bed to the other and before I knew it, we were making love for a second time. My semi-experienced body seemed to respond more positively to Tom, and with each thrust, I felt less pain and more pleasure. The lovemaking was still not pain-free, but somehow my body sensed something new, something exciting that it had not previously experienced. It felt as though a dormant sensor had been set off and within a few moments the sensor sent out an alarm, which pulsated throughout my body. Tom continued to thrust, deeper and quicker until I could hardly take it anymore. Is this what Liz meant when she said that sex felt
unbearably
good?

As Tom climaxed, I felt a pure sense of satisfaction because, not only did Tom find making love with me pleasurable, but I also finally allowed myself to let go and
feel
. I was convinced that during future lovemaking sessions, Tom would satisfy me the way no other man could.

He rested on top of me afterwards, kissing me tenderly, his lips caressing mine. I was warm with love and affection and felt a genuine, deep connection between the two of us. Tom and I were merged into one; in a sense, we were one. As soon as he shifted his weight off of me and rolled over to get out of bed, an instant feeling of separation and melancholy took hold of me. It was time to part ways, and time for me to go home. Mine was an impossible love, and could only exist if hidden from society’s judgmental eye, just like in a Johanna Lindsey romance novel.