Page 8 of Penalty Kiss
I flop onto the bed and immediately see myself from seven different angles, including the ceiling. It's ridiculous and disorienting and weirdly fascinating all at once.
Twenty-four years old and still a virgin.
The thought arrives without invitation, as it does most nights around this time. Not because I'm particularly hung up on the technicality, but because it represents something larger: the distance between the life I’ve been living and the life I want.
A fortress wall. Getting close to someone means whispered confessions in the dark, lazy Sunday mornings sharing histories, a hand tracing the scar on my back while I trace the lines of their life. It means risking the one thing that could unravel my entire existence: the truth.
So my virginity becomes my last line of defense.
Taralyn Delacroix can’t afford to be known. So Tara Haynes remains alone.
I want to be touched. I want to be desired. I want to know what it feels like to let someone close enough to see me without the performance, to trust someone enough to let them inside the walls I've built around myself.
But wanting and doing are different animals entirely.
I grew up watching my father drown his grief in excess. After my mother died, our mansion became a revolving door of strangers seeking oblivion and debauchery in expensive wine, designer drugs, and bodies that meant nothing beyond temporary relief. I saw sex used as currency, as weapon, as escape—but never as connection.
My eidetic memory means I can't forget any of it. Every drunken laugh, every morning-after awkwardness, every empty promise whispered in the dark. I remember the way people looked at each other afterward: satisfied, maybe, but never fulfilled. Never happy.
So I made a choice. I wouldn't give myself to anyone unless it was real. Unless it mattered. Unless it was safe.
Which, given my circumstances, means I've been celibate for my entire adult life.
Shit.That's depressing.
Actually, no.
No to self-pitying. Everything here has been my choice. And I am enjoying life.
Three years of reinventing myself, and I've gotten good at it. Cedar Falls was supposed to be another pit stop, but eighteen months later, I'm still here. Turns out anonymity suits me. No expectations, no family drama, no one trying to turn me into their version of who you should be.
The celibacy thing though? That's just an unfortunate side effect. And tonight we'll take care of that.
I stare at my reflection in the ceiling mirror, trying to imagine what it would look like to have someone else here. Someone who saw me—really saw me—and chose to stay anyway.
Heat pools low in my belly, and I let myself indulge in the fantasy for a moment. Strong hands mapping the curves I hide under oversized sweaters. Someone whispering my real name like a prayer instead of spitting it like a curse. The weight of a body pressed against mine, not taking but giving, not performing but experiencing.
My nipples tighten against the cool air, and suddenly the room feels too small, too warm, too full of mirrors reflecting want I don't know what to do with.
I reach for the bedside drawer and pull out my most recent impulse purchase: a small, discreet bullet vibrator I ordered online after reading Emma Bloom's latest newsletter. I might have snort-laughed when I read her advice to “go forth and buzz thyself to glory” but it sounded like the exact self-help advice I needed.
It arrived two weeks ago, and I've been too nervous to actually use it.
Tonight's the night,I tell myself firmly.
You're a grown woman. You deserve to feel good. Remember the glow on June after she started shagging with Noah Verelli. Or Amy after Dante, that Italian stallion.
Yes. tonight… but first, research.
I grab my phone and Google "where exactly’s the switch on the bullet vibrator, how to fish out the bullet if it went too deep, where to insert the charging port?” Apparently my questions are not weird since they literally auto-populate in the search bar.
The reviews that pop up sound… funny, exciting but not really reassuring.
"This thing could power a small aircraft. I'm pretty sure it's visible from space when it's turned on."
"My insides are still vibrating. It's been a week."
"Had to explain to my neighbors why my windows were rattling. Also, I think I can now hear colors."
