Day 1

We are who we are, tall or small,
And carry our secrets one and all.
We hold them tight, though they burn and gall,
And only release them when we fall.
- from A Journey Between Up and Down, A. Lee

I wrote a very explicit and raw account of about how I met my boyfriend and we began our relationship in the old locking journal I got as a gift when I was 12 or so. It thought it fitting to use a part of my childhood to write its epitaph and explore what I view as my first adult relationship. That story filled the old journal up, so I got a new one. This journal is much more suited to my age, noticeably missing the pictures of unicorns and glittery hearts. After all, unicorns run from me now that I lack the virtue of maidenhood.

I'd like to start this first entry by talking about the one person who missed out on my poignant transition to adulthood over Christmas; my Best Friend. You know how all the pretty, popular girls have a quiet mousey friend? I'm hers. She is tall, thin, and beautiful; daring and bold; everything I enjoy about her but would never really want for myself.

In eighth grade, she and I had practiced kissing each other before we tried it with boys. By the end of that school year, she'd lost her virginity to a high school boy. When we were 16, she dragged me around as her barely-willing wing woman and designated driver to college parties. Many times I got late night calls and texts to loan her money, pick her up or drive her places. Mom didn't understand and always thought she was using me, but truly, I loved her dearly. I know that all the times I needed her, she dropped everything to help me. That's what Best Friends do.

I have always called her BF between ourselves, and since high school she has always called me VV. As in Vestal Virgin; a priestess of Vesta, goddess of the hearth and home. VV's were also prominently featured in one one of our favorite movies, Mel Brook's History of the World, Part I. "Don't you know VV's are not allowed outside the palace without an escort?"

I got a text from BF on New Years Day announcing that she was back. She had already heard about my hot cousin visiting over Christmas and wanted to come over for dinner to discuss every juicy detail. She had missed meeting him because her family went to Vermont to go skiing over Christmas. I texted her back a confirmation and smiled to myself at the thought of her reaction to my recent change in status.

She arrived late, of course, wearing a black suede skirt and jacket over a low cut white blouse. Her entrance was full of jangling jewelry, purse swinging, hugs and kisses for me and Mom. She smelled of cigarette smoke, wine and Chanel, which seemed somehow glamorous and made her appear ageless rather than someone as young as I.

We chatted for a bit, and then Mom left us alone as she went to clean up the dinner we'd been forced to eat without her because of her late arrival. BF and I retreated to my room where she dropped her purse, kicked off her shoes and climbed into my bed to sit cross legged. Her leather skirt was hiked up and I could see she was wearing some kind of garter and stockings with black lace panties.

She launched into a story about her adventures in a Vermont hotel bar with a cute guy who talked her into a threesome. When they got back to the room, the other party turned out to be a diminutive brunette in high heels wearing a giant strap-on dildo. She laughed recalling how the man insisted that he eat BF out while he was being ass fucked by the brunette. Never to miss a new experience, she agreed, but he ended up too drunk to continue and passed out half way through with his ass up in the air. She finished the night sitting around naked with the brunette, sipping vodka and making out.

When she finished her story, she looked at me and said, "Ok VV, spill."

I said, "Well, technically, you can't call me that any more," and raised my eyebrow at her.

Her jaw dropped and she fell backwards against the wall. She said, "Shut the Front Door, who was it?"

I picked up my phone and pulled up the picture I had secretly taken while he was sitting with me on the couch. She stared for a moment, then said, "I have no idea who this is, but Darling, you have very good taste. Tell me everything!"

I stuck my right pinky out. She knew what that meant; it was our secret handshake. We had only ever used it for her, because only she had ever had dangerous secrets. She blinked and looked at my hand, then back up at me. Her mouth opened wide and she whispered, "Oh My God, it was your cousin?"

I said, "Nothing until you swear; This is serious business." So she gave me her pinky.

I took my old locking journal down from the shelf and held it close to my chest. I said, "This will take a while to read, but it should answer most of your questions. I'll make us some tea."

When I came back with our tea, she was lying on the bed with the book, reading intently. She put it down for a moment and looked at me and said, "I only have three things to say: You are a gifted author, I need to finish this alone or we will both be embarrassed, and I'll need to borrow some dry panties."

I burst out laughing as I closed the door. Then I sat at my desk and looked at her over my warm cup of tea. She said, "I'm serious, I will do it." I just grinned and leaned back in the chair and put one foot on the edge of the bed, daring her.

She lay back with the book on her breasts, holding it with her left hand. Her right hand slowly pulled up her skirt. She raised her far knee to tip her hips forward, and I realized those black panties had no crotch. Her fingertips moved the fabric aside and I could see her pink inner lips.

Now, BF is a confirmed bisexual, and while I'm strictly hetero, if there were one woman in the world I would sleep with it would be her. She had an electric sexual appeal that seemed to transcend gender. Even when we were in eighth grade, I admit I enjoyed our kissing practice, but I'd always feared to put my fingers in the fire. Watching her fingers, and knowing my own fire more intimately now, I began to reconsider my decision.

I rolled my desk chair over to the bed. She was still reading, but saw me watching her closely. I swirled my finger in my warm tea. She opened her legs more fully when she removed her fingers to turn the page. On impulse, I licked the tea off my finger, and then slid my warmed fingers between her protruding inner lips.

She jumped like she'd been shocked, and our eyes met, hers in surprise, mine in mischief. She relaxed into the bed and I began to draw circles in her wet opening, moving the crotchless panties out of the way, and opening her lips fully. She tried to keep reading, but her hips began to move rhythmically as if begging me to move faster, but I kept the pace teasingly slow. She read, but would sometimes close her eyes for a moment to enjoy the sensation, then read some more.

I felt light-headed and cold in my stomach. It almost felt like I was watching someone else's hand touching her intimately. Her lips were different than mine, somewhat longer looking, but even softer somehow. Her mons was entirely bald, which never appealed to me personally. I keep myself well trimmed, but the idea that the feminine ideal should be an aspect of a child's body did not set well with me. I liked my furry pet, but as I touched her now slippery mons, I could see the attraction.

Her breathing deepened and I kept stimulating her slowly, keeping her from reaching her peak. She must have read something good, because she smiled and said, "Oh you dirty, dirty girl," I rewarded her with a little faster swirl around her most sensitive spot and she gasped, then shuddered and I could feel her pulsing at my touch. I returned to my slow pace, sliding around the edges. She sighed, but kept reading.

Her scent began to fill the room, a musky scent that seemed to be a more intimate version of the personal scent of hers I'd come to know over the years. I resisted the temptation to taste her; I was already going too far for my own comfort, but it was suddenly a serious temptation. I became aware of my own arousal and shifted uncomfortably in the chair.