Chapter 77: Amy’s Virginity

Nicky didn’t bother to wait for the song to end. She took my hand and led me back to the group, and straight to Amy.

Not knowing what else to say, I asked her to dance again.

Amy smiled shyly, and took my offered hand. We danced through half the song before she finally spoke.

“I guess Nicky told you?” she said softly.

“Amy, I ... ah ... I mean, you hardly know me. We haven’t even kissed yet. Are you sure?”

She raised her hand from my shoulder up to the back of my neck. Pulling my head towards hers, she kissed me. A soft and lingering kiss. Then releasing my head she said, “There! Now we’ve kissed.”

I took her hand in mine as the song ended, and walked her toward the beach. As we walked I scanned her, trying to understand. We had just met. How could she just decide that she wanted to lose her virginity to an almost stranger.

Amy was not happy. Amy’s Dad went to Korea and didn’t return. Her mom, widowed when Amy was an infant, wasn’t interested in being a parent. Relying on family money, she used a series of nannies and boarding schools to raise her children.

Having graduated last week from the prestigious Baker Academy, a girl’s preparatory school, Vivian’s plans included sending Amy to her alma mater, Swarthmore, to find a husband. A lot of young ladies of this era would have thought that an ideal plan, but Amy was a part of the new generation, looking for something more out of life than a husband, a mortgage, and two point five kids.

I also noted, that while she had never been with a man, she had done some exploration while at the academy. I’d have to come back to that when she wasn’t so emotionally volatile. But I did sense that her desire to do something with her life, and her mother’s overbearing nature, which was pushing her in a direction she didn’t want to go, had combined in such a way that Amy was on the verge of major rebellion. The act of giving up her virginity was a part of that rebellion.

Now that I knew that, I had to figure out how to talk her out of it!

“Thank you for the compliment,” I told her as we stood looking out over the waves.

“Compliment?” she asked.

“That, having just met me, you would consider me worthy enough, to receive such a precious gift,” I explained gently.

“Oh. I mean, you’re welcome ... I guess,” she said, unsure where I was headed.

“Since making love, especially the first time is so personal, can I ask you a couple of personal questions?” I asked.

“Ah ... okay,” she answered, still unsure.

“Are you protected? Are you on the pill?”

“No. I hadn’t planned that far. Can’t you use a rubber or something?”

“I guess. They aren’t one hundred percent though,” I replied. “So have you been planning to do this for very long? Giving up your virginity, I mean?”

“I’ve been sorta thinking about it for a couple of years, I’ve just never found the right guy,” she replied.

“Are you looking for a relationship? To get married?” I asked.

“I’m definitely not looking to get married! I want to go to college and see more of the world. I think I’d like to do something that would make a difference, besides being some man’s maid and baby factory!” she said angrily, as she thought about her mom’s intended future for her.

I didn’t say anything, sensing there was more to come. I was right.

“But my mother says I have to go to Swarthmore and find a rich husband. And the sooner, the better. She says I’ll soon be too old for her to support any more. She never asks me what I would like to study, or what I want out of life!” she added angrily.

“What do you want, Amy?”

“I want to study art, and travel, and maybe work with children who are handicapped. I like doing things to help people, but mother says it’s a waste of time. I want to learn to drive, and then drive out west. Did you know that I’ve never been west of Pennsylvania?”

“I didn’t know that,” I replied. “But that all sounds wonderful. Why don’t you do it?”

“Because my mother will kick me out if I don’t do what she wants. And I don’t have any money, and I’ve never even had a job,” she said sadly, balancing between panic and tears. “She never would let me.”

“When do you start your next period?” I asked, hoping to shock her a little.

“Huh? What ... why do you want to know that?” she replied, slightly startled.

“I want to know how much time I have?” I explained without fully explaining.

“What does my period have to do with anything? You’re just a sixteen-year-old boy!” she asked, perplexed and confused.

That was close enough. I was fishing to confirm what I thought I had perceived. Scanning is easy, when the emotions are simple. The more complex they get, the harder they are to discern accurately.

“Thank you. Please ... humor me for a moment and I’ll explain. Discussing your period can’t be any more personal than discussing putting my penis into your vagina, could it?”

She considered for a moment before answering.

“Today’s the fifth. So that means I should start my next period, a week from tomorrow. But I’d need my calendar to say for sure,” she finally told me. “Now. What has it got to do with anything?”

“Thank you. Like I said, it tells me how much time I have,” I told her.

“How much time for what?” she asked, still confused.

“To show you how crazy I am!” I told her.

“Crazy?” she asked.

“Yeah. Considering how beautiful you are, I must be crazy!” I told her. “Because it means I have ten days to talk you OUT of wasting your virginity, just to get back at your mom.”

“What do you mean ‘wasting’ my virginity?” the older teen asked.

“I mean, that there are many good reasons to have sex. Chief among them is the pleasure it brings you, when you climax with a man. Or the joy it brings you to help a man feel good. It’s even better if both of you feel that thrill at the same time. And the best, is to feel that thrill, surrounded by your love for him, and his love for you,” I explained.

She looked at me, trying to decide if I was being critical of her, or worse, making fun of her. Again. I marveled at the complexity of young female emotions.

“Giving up your virginity to a stranger,” I continued, “just because you don’t like what your mom is trying to make you do, falls much lower on the list of reasons to have sex, Amy. MUCH lower!” I told her.

She figured out I wasn’t making fun of her, but she, like most teens, didn’t like to be told they couldn’t have something they had already decided they wanted.

“AND, I would hope that if you ever offered me that precious gift again, it would come with at least a small piece of your heart,” I added.

She walked away from me a few steps, and stood unmoving, as she stared out over the dark Atlantic. The sounds of the wind and the waves filled the silence between us. I knew better than to try scanning. Most of the time, especially with emotional issues, it was too much like riding a roller coaster.

So I waited, studying her. She was a beautiful girl, maybe five-two, with tiny feet and hands. Her long, auburn hair billowed in the breeze as she stared into the night sky, causing me to have second thoughts for a moment, as I looked at her curvaceous body in the tight dress she was wearing for the party. I shook my head as I quickly dismissed them. This was about her needs, not mine, I reminded myself. What I found most attractive though, was that despite her mother’s influence, she had a heart of gold, filled with compassion and generosity.