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One Hour (33-43 Pages),
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Relationships
saying it. He said I was his second, but I believe I was his first, like he was mine.
When my bra fell away from my body, his eyes went wide and his bottom lip began to tremble. His hands shook as he reached out for my breast. I flinched a bit when he rubbed his thumbs against my nipples. They were tender because I was a few days away from getting my period.
"Does it hurt? I'm sorry." He said and his eyes were excited and apologetic all at once.
I let him hold them and caress them for a long time; so long it seemed as though he had forgotten why he had brought me to his uncle's apartment, to his uncle's bed. But then his uncle yelled up from the street and his voice shattered the afternoon sunlight that covered our trembling, eager bodies. "Larry!" his name being called so loud from the street startled us and reminded me that I should feel ashamed of my naked breasts and the act I had come there to commit.
"Gimme ten more minutes!" He yelled back down to his uncle and a chorus of baritone laughter floated up to us.
We got naked quickly and he kissed me on my lips, filling my mouth with the taste of juicy fruit gum. My nails, painted red for the occasion, dug deep into his back when the thin pleasure finally snaked through my abdomen.
It was over in five minutes even though he had asked for ten, but I didn't know then that I should feel cheated, I was too young and it was my first time.
"I love you, I love you." He said the whole time he was inside of me and the brief moment afterwards when he breathed heavily into the pillow my head rested on.
He didn't love me at all. I found that out two days later when I spotted him taking, Timeka, my cousin and confidant, up to his uncle's apartment.
I could laugh at it now, but only for a moment because what had carried me back to that long ago memory was the same thing that had inaugurated it.
I tried to remember Larry's last name, but it just wouldn't come to me. Well it was so long ago.
I went on to the next one.
Johnny. Cal. Luther. Thomas. Frederick. Hassain. Preacher. Ian. Samuel.
The first names flowed as easily and as quickly as the wine that spilled from the bottle of Merlot that was making my head swim.
I could see the scar on Johnny's shoulder, the space between Cal's teeth, the sixth finger on Luther's left hand, Frederick's bow legs, Hassan's thin mustache, Preacher's long arms, Ian's gray eyes and Samuel's bald head. I could see all of these things, as clearly as if I'd been in their company yesterday - but their last names remained a mystery to me. Afterall, last names weren't used in bed.
Worse yet, who did I not wear a condom with?
Who knew, who knew in deed? The voice inside my head asked me.
I agreed. Who knew? It was the eighties, but as far as I was concerned it could have been the era of free love.
It's not free now is it?
No, it wasn't free at all; it was costing me my life.
"Slut! Slut! Slut!"
The words bounced off the wall, toppling over the empty wine bottle. I jumped at the sound of my voice, and snatched up the bottle before the tiny red teardrop of wine could escape over the green glass rim.
Ying and Yang wandered in and cocked their heads.
"I don't know who said that." I spoke to them as if they were human.
"It wasn't me," I lied.
Ying and Yang hesitated before moving closer. I had only had them for a month; we were still getting to know one another.
"C'mon." I slurred, patting my thighs. "Come here boys." I beckoned, transforming my tone from adult to child and then gurgling toddler.
They trotted over, sniffed my arms and legs and licked my face.
I fell apart then, completely and entirely.
Would this be the only type of affection I could safely allow myself? I would never be loved by another man, ever.
It was the saddest thought I'd ever had in my life.
I began to wail, and Ying and Yang howled as I wept and then curled up beside me when I fell into an uneasy sleep.
We connected for good that