Page 68 of Just for Fun
This makes me thing of Zara. I want to see her, and I don’t know why I have to stay back until she makes contact. One of us has to be the first one to do it, and why not it be me?
The last time we were together, it didn’t end in the way either one of us was hoping. Actually, I have no idea what she had in mind as far as that goes, but I am determined to make up for it. I will.
TWENTY-ONE
Zara
I called in at work.
I, Zara Bray, the most responsible human on planet Earth, the one who looks down on people who call in sick, emailed my boss and told him that I had a severe case of the flu. For the last four days. I didn’t even have the guts to actually make a phone call because I was worried he’d ask me questions. Since I am not a very good liar, I would’ve given myself away in no time.
I’ve also been ignoring my mother’s phone calls, only sending her a text every so often, assuring her that I was fine, just a little under the weather. I did the same with my brother. When I told him that I couldn’t make lunch this upcoming Wednesday, he tried calling, but, just like with everybody else, I preferred not to speak in person. Fortunately, he’s been too busy at work to stop by.
Through this all, I kept on checking my phone for a message from Kyle. Every time it dings with a notification, my heart sinksjust a little more at the realization that he wouldn’t be reaching out.
In all honesty, I rushed out of his house as if my life depended on it. He wanted to talk, I wanted to run. So, he let me.
Analyzing the entire experience of my first sexual encounter is causing me to be mortified. I thought that I was prepared. After all, I had read a lot of material about it. I read posts on Reddit. I looked at it from a strictly clinical perspective. And there’s a very good possibility that I might have reacted wrong.
Research about this has been consuming me since I got home from Kyle’s four days ago. And yes, it’s supposed to hurt. Depending on everyone’s tolerance for pain, it hurts more for some than for others. However, it is very important to have a partner who helps you through it, someone who is patient and can ease you into it, tries to make it is pleasurable for you as possible.
All that has brought me to the conclusion that I should’ve told Kyle ahead of time. I mean, there was not much time from when we met for the first time until we had sex, but I still should’ve told him about it when I went to his house.
I can explain my lapse in judgement as me being worried that if I told him, he would stop. That was something I didn’t want to happen. But my brain was not functioning at full capacity, and since I was so new at this, I ended up messing it up.
Now, with a clear head, I can recognize how flawed my plan had been, and I regret leaving Kyle’s house in the way that I did, especially once the soreness from in between my legs went away.
I pick up the phone for what seems like the hundredth time in the last hour, staring at it, willing it to ring with his number. The things he did to me before taking my virginity are playing in my head on repeat. His kisses down my body, especially when he placed his lips on my most intimate spot. I don’t even know whatto call it as I find the terms I read on the internet to be very crass. I can’t even say them to myself, let alone to somebody else.
That also reminds me of the one post I read where women were advised to groom themselves down there. That actually started a crazy debate in the comments section, where people felt attacked and mentioned how liberated they felt by not shaving or waxing down there. On the other hand, there were quite a few who agreed with the grooming advice. I mean, I wouldn’t want to end up with a hairball in my mouth, so I get it.
Which brings me to another embarrassing thought. What did Kyle think when he realized that my nether regions were not exactly hair free, quite the opposite?
“Ugh, this is terrible,” I whine to myself in the empty room. “Why didn’t I think of all these things beforehand?”
I stand up from the couch and look down at the clothes I’m wearing. I haven’t changed in two days, the leggings and sweatshirt I have on having seen better days. I bring the phone up and stare at it for a few seconds, wondering why I have to wait for Kyle to call me. I can call him, and if he wants to have anything more to do with me, that’s fine. If not, I can find somebody else who can take over from where he left off. After all, that was the hardest part.
My hands shake uncontrollably, knowing that I am lying to myself. I will be devastated if I call Kyle and he blows me off. I want him to continue what we started. I can’t deal with the mere thought of another man touching me so soon after he did, especially this soon.
I find his number in my contacts, grateful that I saved it on there. Clearing my throat a couple of times, I tap on it and wait to hear it ring. The second it does, I am getting second thoughts and am deeply tempted to hang up.
The phone rings once, twice, and half of a third time, before it goes to voicemail. It’s as if he sent me there on purpose. Whatwould be the point of leaving him a voicemail then? My eyes instantly fill with tears, and I hang up.
Just as I am wiping at my face, the doorbell rings, sounding so loud in the quiet apartment that my heart jumps out of my chest.
”What in the world,” I murmur to myself, so not in the mood to deal with any of my neighbors. There’s always something going on in our complex, and they somehow always seem to need my opinion on something.
I march to the door, ready to tell whoever is on the other side that this is not a good time. I don’t care about the parking lot needing to be replaced, and I sure don’t care about the way people throw their trash in the bins.
Yanking the door wide open, I am ready to throw all that at the person disturbing my peace. And I freeze.
”Kyle!”
I’m not sure if I actually say the word or if I just mouth it. I stare at him like this is my first time meeting him, once again taken aback by how handsome he looks. In fact, I think he is to handsome to be with someone like me, which is not something I initially considered when I made up my mind that I wanted to have sex with him.
The realization is like a knife to the heart, and it only makes me want to cry. So that’s what I do. I start crying.
“Zara, baby!”
