“Why not?” he whined.
“Come on,” I sighed, ” you know why not.”
“We don’t have to do anything, we can just talk.” I stared at him.
“And why can’t we do that here?”
“It’s just more private there!” He was frustrated now, a scowl on his face. “Fine!” he said, his voice raised.
“What do you want me to do?” I pleaded. He just shook his head, suddenly calm.
“Nothing, never mind,” he said simply. I got up from the couch an went upstairs. Janie’s room was open and empty, so I went in and sat on the bed.
What are you doing? I asked myself for the second time that night. You know you want to. Just do it, no one will ever know–his girlfriend sure won’t. Besides, he obviously likes you more than her, otherwise he wouldn’t be doing this.
I took out my phone and sent him a message, “Come upstairs.” I waited three minutes with no response. I checked downstairs and he was sitting on the couch, still cradling his beer. I went and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned I told him to check his phone. He said he hadn’t gotten anything, so I whispered for him to meet me upstairs in five minutes. He said he had to go soon because his brother was waiting for him. Taken aback, I told him it was fine, just go. He didn’t move and I went back upstairs.
Sitting on the bed I was really nervous. Then a thought occurred to me. This isn’t my room. Silly, I know since it was so obvious, but I had forgotten. Technically, it wasn’t Janie’s either, she was just staying there. I went out to find the owner and ask to use it. She said, “Sure!” and showed me how to lock the door. She pulled out a futon for me so we didn’t have to use her bed. I wasn’t planning on going that far regardless. She left.
*Knock knock knock*
I got up to open the door, and there he was. I let him in and the shut the door behind him. I sat on the futon.
“So what’s up?” he asked
“What’s up?” He looked at me expectantly, eyebrows raised. “What do you think?” I was the exasperated one now.
“I don’t know, I thought maybe you wanted to talk?”
“You think I brought you to a room upstairs at a party to talk,” I repeated in a monotone.
“No,” he shook his head slightly, finally realizing what I wanted. He sat on the futon and I straddled him. I leaned in to kiss him and closed my eyes. I felt him grow harder as I bit his bottom lip before sticking my tongue in his mouth.
This kiss felt different, wrong. His mouth was too wet, we were sloppy. He stopped me. “How far is this going?” He was searching my eyes in my silence.
I slowly unbuttoned my shirt. Once it was off I got anxious. He spanked me, snapping me out of my thoughts. I pulled away from him.
“What, you don’t like that anymore?”
“I never really did, to be honest.” He looked confused.
“Okay… well, what do you like?” he asked.
“Pull my hair,” I said simply. He grabbed a hand full of my curls and yanked my head back. My heart sped up and I kissed him again, more aggressively this time. He unbuttoned my shorts and I took off his shirt.
His body was just as I remembered it, and the familiarity of it pushed the guilt out of mind. “Do you have a condom?”