DEBUTANTE
"I want you to take my virginity tonight." Fiona startled me.
She kissed me, before adding in a low whisper, "At least, I think so."
We were standing on the terrace of a downtown hotel, briefly escaping from a business party neither of us had much interest in attending. I peered into her eyes, smiling.
"Isn't it a little late for that?" I asked.
She lowered her eyes, pretending embarrassment. "Well, we've done everything, except..." Her voice trailed off.
"That." Her final word was soft but emphatic.
"We've been naked in the backseat of your car enough. And you seemed interested then."
I now recognized Fiona riffing on an old memory she shared once during our lovemaking.
"Of course, if you are not interested." She started to move away from me. I pulled her back.
Fiona and I have been married for more than 25 years and we have shared a vivid sex life. She is sensual, loud and often aggressive in bed. Early in our marriage, role playing had been an important part of exploring each other's sexuality. More than once, we had acted out some episode from Fiona's past-- or my own.
Whether it was posing nude for me or offering herself to me on her parents' kitchen table one evening while we were house sitting, she subtly made it known that she had been in the same situation with another man. Far from threatening, it only made me fuck her harder.
One night, riding for the first time in a new car, she suddenly stripped off her clothes and ordered me to stop in a secluded place. After screwing me senseless in a grove of a willow trees, she took me home for an extended, gentle session of lovemaking. As we nestled into bed, she whispered, "I never want you to be jealous of any other man that I have been with."
She used the same tone of voice tonight.
"I rented a room so that I wouldn't have to drive home after this damned debutante party. One of my friends couldn't come. The other took off with her date an hour ago, so I have the room to myself and no one is expecting me home."
I stared at her wordlessly as she curled into my arms again.
"If we do this," she asked tentatively, "Will you be gentle with me?"
I kissed her full on the mouth. Gently.
"Of course, baby," I said, slipping into character. "But we have to wait. It's only nine o'clock and people will miss us if we slip off now."
Fiona clung to me. Finally, she whispered, "Good. I need to work up my nerve, anyway. I am still not sure that I want to do this."
We returned to the party and were soon standing in separate conversations. Each time I glimpsed her, Fiona returned my stare, smiling shyly.
Standing in a drink line, I had a moment to think about tonight's proposition. Fiona had been acting out of character lately. On a trip last fall, she had rebuffed me when I began one of our frank word games that was often a prelude to intense sex.
"Sometimes, I don't want to be just fucked, you know," she had said that night
"I'm sorry?"
"I said, sometimes I want more than just
fucking
." She emphasized the final word.
I had replied tentatively. "But that's not our history. Or our vocabulary. Besides, aren't you the one who screams to be
fucked
? Didn't you used to tell me that usually a girl just wants to be
fucked
?" I returned the emphasis.