I was sweaty and naked, rubbing my leg against his legs. His pelvis hovered over mine, ready to take me onto the wild ride called sex. He stroked my breast and made a soft moaning noise. I smiled and grabbed his hair as he went lower, and lower. He laughed a little as he took off the last piece of clothing from his body: his underwear. I smiled and kissed the stranger with the piercing blue eyes once more until our bodies connected for the first time. This stranger, who I barely knew, took my virginity. He took my one last virtue, and ripped it in two. The whole time I was thinking of only one person.
~*~
I woke up with a metallic taste in my mouth. I yawned, feeling like I had serious bad breath. I closed my mouth and kept my eyes closed for a couple of seconds. When I did open my eyes my vision was encircled with crust, so I rubbed them wearily. I sighed and looked at the wall blankly. The same three scenes from last night replayed in my head over, and over again.
The first scene was when I went to a rave on First Street. I don't remember the name of the place, but I knew it was a rave. Everyone was wearing white. I got in the club instantly, and right away I saw a handsome man with icy blue eyes, and shaggy brown hair. Shaggy hair was a turn-on for me, as was the brown-haired-blue-eyed combination.
The second scene was when he saw me. He smiled a shy sort of smile, like he was just caught staring at a girl in class by the teacher.
No one was around him, which surprised me a little bit. He was so...gorgeous. How could he be alone?
He looked over at me again, and I winked. I saw him laugh and in the next instant he was making a beeline toward me.
We didn't even talk to each other. We just danced to the beat of the techno music. Our legs moved in sync, and our eyes connected, eye contact never breaking once. I felt as if he was looking into the depths of my soul. As cheesy as that sounds, it kind of turned me on.
The third scene was after the rave. We were practically eating each others faces out of that club, in his car, out of his car, in his apartment, on his couch, on his dining room table, on his bed. We were sweating like we were in a sauna. I was as wet as water and it was like he had a metal bar down there.
I was ready, and waiting, and he took me. He took every ounce of innocence out of my body and into the night air, where it would never be reclaimed again.
I shook my head and stood up. I felt dirty. I needed a shower.
Hot showers were gross, so I always took cold ones. My mom said it wasn't good for me but I never listen to my mom.
The cold water woke me up instantly. I felt it slide through every crevice on my body, and wash away yesterdays worry. I was free from it. I was free from the fights and the messes and the sweat from the sex, and running away. I was free from the dirty feeling I got doing things I wasn't supposed to do. I didn't reek of guilt anymore. I was free.
I proceeded to wash my hair and body, and stepped out of the shower.
I looked at myself naked in the mirror. Why oh why did I still feel dirty, even though I was clean?
I stood and stared for a few moments.
My mom knocked on the door. "Bridget, sweetie, are you out yet?"
I looked at the clock on the bathroom wall and saw that is was later than I thought. I looked around and I was still naked, but my hair was dry. Did I stand here for hours?
I sighed, grabbing a towel, and opening the door. "Yeah, mom." I mumbled, pushing past her into my room. "You didn't knock."
"Sure I did, you were just in the shower. For a long time too. I thought I heard you up at 9, but I guess not." She shrugged, leaning against a wall.
It was 11 now.
"I was, I just sat in there for a while thinking, and drying my hair."
"Oh." She smiled and walked out of my room, closing the door behind her.
I sighed loudly and dropped the towel feeling the liberation that came from nudity.
I've always wanted to become a nudist. Those people who are just look so open, and free, and it seems like they can do whatever they want, whenever they want, because they're free.
I can't become a nudist, though. The image my mom created for our family of three would be shattered for eternity.
Stupid, I thought.
I put on some shorts, a tank top, and walked out of my room into the hallway.
I stood there for a while, just looking at all of the pictures of me, mom, and dad. On one wall, there were mostly pictures of dad and mom receiving awards, and every Elle Magazine cover there has ever been since my mom became the editor. On the other wall there was pictures of me, smiling the wide smile I only did in pictures, looking as if I was happy to take that picture. There were also pictures of Dani, Dani and my mom, Dani's brother, and Dani and I. Every picture that I was in I was wearing my wide smile where all of my pearly whites were visible, and my dimples are showing.
The only time I ever truly smiled was when I was with Dani. Dani likes my real smile better than my fake one.
Thinking about my smile made me think of Vance for some strange reason. Vance was my boyfriend of almost two years. We met sophomore year and we dated until the middle of of the spring. Then on April fools day, of all days, he asked me to be his girlfriend. I thought he was joking at first, but he said he wasn't, and then he was my boyfriend, and he still is.
The house phone rang, pulling me out of my trance, and I walked to the living room. My mom answered the phone, then let out a piercing scream.
“What?” I yelled, jumping up from the couch and running to the kitchen. My mom was bouncing, though, with a huge smile on her face.
I rolled my eyes.
“Oh my gosh, really, Saundra?” She gushed.
Saundra was Dani's mom. My mom and her mom have been best friends since high school. They got married in the same week, and they had Dani and I in the same month.
Dani, or Danielle, is the girl I have been best friends with since birth. Dani and I were together almost every day, besides the days when she and her mom have mother-daughter days. Those days are so boring. I either have to hang out with Vance or sit around doing nothing. The good thing about their mother-daughter days is that it only happens about 24 times a year, so it wasn't that bad.
My stomach growled so I helped myself to a turkey sub. My mom walked out of the kitchen with the phone and walked upstairs. I followed suit, accept I had a sandwich in my hand, and my destination was my room, not my moms office.
I had a huge room with walls as blue as the ocean and band posters covering them. I had an equally huge bathroom, and a huge balcony, in our huge estate, on a huge street with other huge estates, with little rich people and their huge egos.
I sighed thinking of how much my life sucked, and ate my sandwich in complete silence.
After I was done, I closed my eyes and thought of my dad. My dad, a high-class business man. His job is to, well, he does whatever Richard Gear does in Pretty Woman. Or that's what he told me, anyways. I never cared enough to ask.
All my mom can do is talk about her exciting job as the editor for Elle Magazine.
She is always telling me how I should be a model or something of the sort because I'm "tall and pretty."
What a load of crap. Everyone, everything. Crap! I walked to my bed and laid down, thinking of Dani, and when I would see her again.
