Chapter 11

The news played quietly on the television. I listened to another incomprehensible statement issued by the Oval Office and wondered how people couldn’t see how the current occupant of said office appeared to be out of his depth. Being a CEO didn’t automatically qualify someone to be a brain surgeon, or a President.

For the first time, I wished I was a Canadian. Justin Trudeau was so much better.

At my side, Rory leaned against me, her head in the crook of my shoulder. She was sound asleep. Her stomach full, an eventful day, and she was gone to the world. Crickets’ nightly song reached me through open windows. A cooler ocean breeze was lowering the temperature, helped by the ceiling fan rotating silently above.

I nursed a beer. I liked beer but alcohol didn’t like me - something in the way I metabolized it. First my tongue would go, then my morals. Four beers and I was as dumb as a stump, and equally articulate. It meant my consumption of beer was limited to one or two, so I cherished them. I traveled the world through beer. Tonight, I was visiting Japan with an Asahi Super Dry lager.

“Ethan, can I ask you something?”

“You’re awake.” I smiled. “Sure. Go ahead.”

She waited a beat and studied her fingernails, not looking at me. I hugged her shoulder tighter.

“I don’t swear much but, when I’m climaxing, is it all right to use crude language?”

I pondered it for a while, then answered her. “Sure. There’s nothing wrong with dirty or crude language when it’s between lovers. Often, it can make things even more exciting.”

“You never use dirty language. You never actually swear. How come?”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure. If I had to guess, it’s probably because I never see a need for it.”

“But, don’t you want to when you’re angry?”

“Frequently. I just don’t.”

“So, when being intimate, it’s okay?”

“Absolutely,” I assured her, wondering where this was coming from.

Rory continued, “Good, because when I had that climax on the boat what I really wanted to say was, ‘Oh fuuuuck!’”

The emotion she put into it had me laughing. She turned her face up to me and grinned, her eyes sparking.

When I stopped laughing, I told her, “That turns me on, so yup, go to town!”

Rory’s grin faded. Her eyes softened. She said, “I want you to be my first. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

Tamping down the sudden rush of desire, I rubbed her arm. “I’d love to. However, there are so many things we can do before taking it that far.”

“We can do those things after. I’m tired of being a virgin, especially now I can get climaxes.”

Chuckling, I countered, “Being a virgin isn’t a disability, Rory. It’s not something you get tired of.”

“How would you know? You’re not a virgin. You don’t constantly wonder about it, or worry about it. You’ve experienced sex. All I’ve done is fret about when and who, and will the guy use me and tell his friends after, and what if he’s useless and I don’t like sex and that’s it, I’m damaged for life. Besides, you’ve shown me how good it feels. I trust you.”

I sat silently, pondering her comments. Was she really wrong? Did girls regard their virginity as a millstone? A weight around their shoulders? Wasn’t it supposed to be treasured and shared with someone you love?

That thought brought on another. How many girls remained in a relationship with the boy they’d lost their virginity to? Actually, why was virginity considered more precious than a healthy, active sex life? Shouldn’t a girl’s first time be one that makes her want more, not some sordid, unsatisfactory act that she’d look back on with shame? Of course it should. But when? Fifteen was very young.

“You’re too quiet,” Rory said.

“You’re a bit young...”

“I’m...” Rory cut in to object.

“Let me finish,” I said, interrupting her. “It’s your body. It’s your choice, no one else’s. Would I like to make love with you? Absolutely. There’s nothing I want more. I get jealous thinking about you being with some other guy. Really jealous.”

I continued, “I think you’re emotionally mature enough to make the decision, too.”

When I stopped, Rory studied me, then said, “But?”

I smiled. “No buts.”

Rory smiled broadly. She relaxed against me and sighed. “Good.”

The prospect of sex with Rory, now it was in the open, was so delicious my body responded; penis thick, not rigid, the state that feels so good. Gentle throbs kept my pulse racing. Desire blossomed and I had to stop myself from imagining it. What would it be like to make love to a virgin? I never had. How painful would it be for her? How could I make it less painful?

“Not tonight,” Rory said.

“Huh?”

“I don’t want to do it tonight. I’m tired.” A moment later, she added, “I want to be seduced. I want to flirt and tease you. Your eyes get so sexy when you’re horny and that turns me on.”

“Okay. Not tonight,” I agreed with a chuckle.