There I am, under the flickering lights of the women's room at O'Malley's, in a lingering cloud of fragrant smoke. It's a surprisingly awful bathroom for a restaurant that otherwise escapes being called a dive.
I'm standing face to face with a slender redhead in a cute sleeveless denim shirt and yoga shorts. She's looking at me expectantly with stoned eyes and a devilish smile. She clutches the hem of her shirt with crossed hands, exposing just a little of her slim waist and tight belly, and ready to lift at the count of three.
She and I met 20 minutes ago. We're about to show each other our boobs.
My bra, big and battle-tested, is in my hands. I've just taken it off from under my loose-fitting fat girl blouse. Nervously, I set it on the counter next to the sink. I try not to think about how clean the porcelain veneer is. And I really try not to think about what I'm about to show her. Everything moves slowly, like my brain is playing catch-up with my body. I clutch at the hem of my own shirt, genuinely not sure of whether or not I'll actually go through with it.
HER NAME IS TESSA: A NUDE DAY TALE OF WOMEN, BATHROOMS, AND BOOBS
I came to O'Malley's tonight with a group of friends. Nobody I know very well, and by god did it feel that way. I became more and more of a hanger-on as the evening unfolded. Tessa was there with her friends at the next table. I ended up paying more attention to their conversation than ours.
From what I could gather, Tessa had just dumped her boyfriend. "Andrew," she said. "The six million dollar man, and not worth a cent of it." Tessa and her friends were gathered there to mourn the relationship, or to celebrate the breakup, or both. My friends and I melded into a sort of in-between group with them, like drops of water. Tessa and I hit it off.
It was the kind of bullshit conversation where you can't remember what was said, even after you'd just said it. We bought each other a drink, then another, then another. When she invited me on the proverbial trip to the bathroom, I didn't think anything of it. Girls getting drunk at the bar and going to the bathroom in flocks is a time-honored tradition.
It feels like we've been in this shitty bathroom forever.
Oh, I don't mind, not really. I don't get out much, and everyone loves to hear a drunk girl spilling the tea about her ex. Especially when it gets... spicy.
"The only thing I'll miss about him is his dick" Tessa says, casually touching up her makeup with her nose about an inch from the streaked mirror. "It wasn't much to look at when it was soft. But when it got hard, it was long and straight and hairless. The award statuette of dicks."
"Sounds like a nice dick," I said, trying not to feel ridiculous saying the word. I, likewise, was touching up my makeup, or at least playacting it. I didn't really need to.
Another girl comes in, a nerdy type who doesn't seem like the usual clientele. She flits past us nervously to the nearer of the two stalls and slams the door. We hear her blowing her nose.
Tessa keeps talking. I silently give her a big-eyed "quiet down" look, but it doesn't seem to register."
"When that thing was in you, it didn't do much," she says. "Not enough girth. I always had to use my hand while he fucked me. But when it was in your ass... god, it was perfect. Especially when he was hitting it raw. He could give me the 'O' just from that. In fact"--she fiddles around for her phone--"maybe I should give him a call. See if he's down for some sort of arrangement."
"I don't think that's a great idea," I say. I can see a mile away that she isn't genuinely looking for advice. Just validation. I'm trying to gauge when she needs agreement and when she needs disagreement.
"You're right," she says, giving up on the phone. "Too much history."
"Yup. Not worth the trouble."
"Speaking of history," she says, "what's life like for you on that front?"
"Front?"
"Are you getting laid? Do you have anyone special in your life?"
In that moment, I wonder if she was secretly hoping all along to rope me into sharing some spicy stories of my own, to join in the oversharing. Another drunk girl ritual.
The nerdy girl comes out of the stall, squeezes between us, washes her hands, and leaves without drying them. I'm certain we scared her off. I only feel comfortable speaking once she's out of the room.
"I've given my share of first-date blowjobs," I say, hoping that will mollify her. She's still looking at me expectantly.
Finally, I admit, "I've never... done it. You know, P.I.V."
Her eyes get big. She leans forward. She says, a little too loudly, "You've never been fucked?" Right as she says it, a pair of women have come bursting in, laughing at something that must have happened just prior to kicking the door open. They giggle their way past us and end up in separate stalls. They look gay. I wonder if they're together-together. I give Tessa the big eyes again to warn her to keep it down.
Not much quieter, Tessa says, "You've never had a man's dick in your pussy?"
Very quietly, I say, "I came really close once, but he just wanted me to suck him off. I guess I'm always a bridesmaid, never a bride."
I learn quickly that Tessa isn't going to let me play this off with a joke. She says, "Has a boy ever made you come?"
Both stalls have women in them, one of whom has just finished pissing loudly and the other is apparently trying to shit as quietly as possible. There's no noise to cover us. I'm trying to be cool, but, god, this is embarrassing.
"Once," I say, meekly. "At a party."
Her eyes are big again. "A party?"
"Not that kind of party. We played games, we watched a movie. The guys were giving the girls massages. You know, fucking around, but low stakes. Nobody's clothes came off."
"But he touched your..."
"He was rubbing his way down my back. It was nice, actually. He was good at it. He was rubbing my butt through my pants, and for some reason, I felt this... build-up. I thought he would stop soon and it would go away, but he kept rubbing my butt. And, you know, it happened. He didn't even touch me down there."
