Abstinence Ch 01 Skin

"Shit!" I squealed as my roommate's eyes widened and she slapped her hands over the grin spreading rapidly across her face. She closed my bedroom door, and I listened as her footsteps faded.

The giant purple dildo I'd been riding a moment before slipped from my hands, falling to the floor as I collapsed backwards onto the bed. Embarrassment coursed through me as I closed my eyes. I threw an arm over my heated face in an unsuccessful attempt to hide from myself.

She wasn't supposed to be home for another two hours. I tried to reason with myself that she hadn't seen anything, but I knew better. She wouldn't care; I'd walked in on her with men on the couch, the kitchen table, the hallway floor. But as a flush creeped across my skin, I wondered how much of a hassle it would be to find a new place to live.

***

"I don't know who's lonelier, you or your large purple friend," she said from her doorway once hunger prompted me to leave the safety of my room.

"I am not lonely!" I insisted.

Singleness was my jam. She, on the other hand, went through a different guy every other month. She regaled me with tales of her amorous adventures, and I occasionally accompanied her on a double date with one bland guy or another.

It was Saturday night, and she was headed out with her latest beau for a night of dancing and drinking. She'd asked me if I wanted to come, assuring me I was never a third wheel.

"Plus, I already invited our new neighbor to come with us. I told him you're cute and he's so much better looking than your purple cock."

"Fine," I said, letting the embarrassment wash over me and then trying to let it go.

She insisted on lending me an outfit for me for the evening. She told me the tiny skirt screamed, "I'm here to get laid." For her, I tried to convince myself I was comfortable with the look.

Socialization had never come naturally. For years the social scene existed in my life like any other experiment. Hypotheses ran through my head. Would I feel more connection to people if I engaged in more social media? Would I form more connections if I focused on open ended questions in my interactions? Despite meticulous thought about the variables and controls of my social experiments, I continued to fail at execution.

My roommate had plied me with shots last time I'd explained to her how I analyzed my failed dates. She knew I was hopeless and loved me anyway. I loved her for that.

***

Earlier in the week I'd wandered onto the seventh floor of the biotech firm where I work. I don't usually venture past floor six, but a walk was warranted because the water cooler was out of order.

Spreadsheets and calculations filled my head, despite my promise to myself that I was taking a break. Autopilot guided me toward the water cooler, and I saw nothing around me.

"Woah!" came from above as I barreled into a solid body blocking my way. Large hands caught my shoulders and stopped me from tipping over as I lost my balance and my train of thought.

A familiar voice cut through the equations in my head. Even before I brought my head up and saw the white lab coat and the shaggy hair, that voice sang to me of the past. Confusion engulfed me as my world shifted.

"It's you," I said incredulously, laughing in delight. "You left Phoenix?"

Phoenix had been a mess. He'd hated his job. Some desert dwelling dumpster bitchhad broken his heart. It'd gotten so bad he'd refused to speak with anyone back home for months. He hadn't even told me he'd come back.

"I hated it there," he said, regret and anger flashing across his face before hiding behind an easy smile. "It was too hot."

"I can't believe you're here," I said.

"It's nice to be back on the East Coast, but I'm still getting my bearings." He removed his hands from my shoulders and walked with me to the water cooler.

We first met when he moved next door to me at age two. We were fast friends and hung out together all the way through high school. Sophomore year of college he'd switched majors and transferred to the same city as me. Now he worked at my company.

"Are you following me?" I asked him playfully.

"Yes," he said jokingly. "Yes, I am."

***

I stepped out of the apartment; more accurately, I stepped over and around the trail of cosmetics, g-strings, and stilettos and managed to escape the apartment unharmed. Wisps of aromatic steam still clung to my hair, meticulously blown out and styled into artful, messy waves. Before leaving the hall I gave myself one last lookover.

In the mirror was a woman that I seldom saw. Black wings swept up from the corners of my eyes, transforming drab brown into smoldering hazel studded with flecks of gold. Lips covered in a bold purple matte curved up at one corner. Freed from its normal utilitarian ponytail, slashes of crimson gleamed amid flowing waves of chocolate and cinnamon.

Acknowledging the extra twenty pounds I'd put on since taking the lab tech job, I refused to dwell on the guilt, focusing instead on new curves. The sparkly tank, barely snug on my roommate, accentuated deep cleavage on the woman before me. The black leather skirt hugging my hips was nearly scandalous.

Overcoming social anxiety and a general disinterest in the bar scene took significant effort, but feeling a little sexy every now and then was worth it. Maybe she was right. Going out might be fun after all.

We walked down the hall to the corner apartment where my roommate rapped lightly on the door.

"One minute," came a familiar voice. I started laughing before he even opened the door. My roommate looked at me as if I'd blown a gasket.

"It's you," he said. He smiled and enveloped me in a giant hug. "Are you following me?"

"Yes, I am," I said, echoing his earlier words.

We laughed and my roommate stood patiently, awaiting an explanation. As he unfolded the winding road that had brought him into my life, I marveled at this man standing before me. No longer did I see the kid who had chased me through the halls of third grade with a worm on a stick. Nor the boy who'd studied long into the night with me.

There was a hint of sadness behind the easy banter he shared with my roommate. Was there regret hiding behind his eyes as they traveled over my body? I could only guess at the heartbreak that assaulted him in Phoenix. The man before me was changed, no longer the boy I'd befriended. Somehow, I needed to move on from that boy and become acquainted with the man.

***

I danced. I drank. The evening was enjoyable, just not my scene. As the night ground on, my precious reserve of social energy was rapidly draining. My roommate and companions were just getting started, however, and bid me farewell as they began the next phase of their bar hop.

The dark metro train window held my gaze, my imagination running wild with stories my roommate was likely coaxing out of my neighbor. The walk back to my apartment was lonely, despite the crowded Saturday night streets. Passing my neighbor's door, I wondered when I would next see him. Maybe soon, I thought finally home.

Hiding under a fuzzy blanket in pajamas, the sounds of a familiar movie soothed me. A knock sounded at my door and I debated pretending not to be there, not answering it. Curiosity overcame me and I padded to the door, fuzzy blanket and all.

"Just checking up on you," said my neighbor as I opened the door. "Bar's not really your scene," he stated more than asked.

"Never has been," I replied. "But thanks for coming out with us tonight. I had fun, and I think my roommate enjoyed having us there."

He sat down on the couch next to me and I lay my head on his shoulder. It was like I was nineteen again and the two of us were back in the dorms hanging out. We watched black and white figures rage against mutant plants on the screen; laughed at the campiness of the old movie. The evening was comfortable. My neighbor was comfortable.

"Your roommate told me you're unbearably horny and instructed me that I'm to fuck you before the night is over," he said.

"She did not!" I exclaimed.

"So, wanna fuck?" he asked, a lopsided grin on his face.

I sat up, smacking his shoulder as I looked at him and giggled. This question had come up over and over since we'd been fifteen. Every time I'd laugh it away. Yes, I was horny. Yes, I was lonely.

But.

"No, I don't want to fuck," I admonished him. "I want a Hallmark movie. I want to be swept off my feet. I want forever."

There were no butterflies as I reached for his hand. The electric tingle I'd felt when Peter May had entwined his fingers with mine senior year of high school was absent. Peter had turned out to be an asshole, but there had been real chemistry there.

"We're friends," I told him. "And co-workers. And now neighbors." He sat there looking at me, his face concealing his thoughts. "Shit, you really are following me aren't you?" I said giggling at him. He laughed at that but still said nothing. "You're my oldest friend," I started again. "I can't fuck you without messing this up. Let's not change anything for now, ok?"

As he had so many times before, he got down off the couch, onto one knee and asked me to marry him. Despite the light hearted nature of this ongoing joke, a small voice in the deepest recesses of my mind asked if maybe he was serious. Had I broken his heart constantly for the past two decades? Has he actually been following me around the country?

No. He just knew exactly how to push my buttons.

"Career. Marriage. Fairytale! Now come back up here and finish watching this movie with me." He obediently climbed back up on the couch, pulled me close, and finished the movie.

***

Two weeks later, my roommate again implored me to go out dancing with her and her latest guy, but I already had my pajamas on and there was no budging me. I was comfortable, happy, encased in flannel. The couch beckoned and I was alone with the remote control when I heard a familiar knocking at my door.

"Come in!" I shouted, not even bothering to get off the couch. My neighbor bounded through the door, carrying a shallow rectangular wrapped gift, which he placed on the table in front of the couch.

"I got you something," he said.

"Yes, I can see that," I replied. "What is it?" I asked, shaking it gently. It rattled.

"A surprise for you. Go ahead, open it."

I brought my legs down from lounging on the couch and placed the box on my lap. I enthusiastically tore away the bright paper, liberating something the size of Monopoly. Except it wasn't Monopoly. The box was a matte black with red lettering and maze-like crimson swirls covering all its sides. Abstinence. Under the title was a smaller title. "The game where you don't fuck around." A giggling fit caught me as I turned the box over and looked at my neighbor incredulously. "Seriously?"

"Hey, you don't want to fuck. This is obviously the game for you."

"Where did you get this?" I asked as I turned the box over examining the swirls covering it. He remained silent as my fingers followed the designs.

"You made this, didn't you?" I asked him. Inside jokes abounded in the swirls adorning the outside of the box. My fingers over intricate little smurfs dancing through rows of tiny cinnamon buns. And there on the side of the box was a corner of a map of the town I'd grown up in. "How did you do this? When did you do this?" I asked him.

The box looked professionally made, but I was certain there was no way he found this somewhere and bought it. My mind started doing calculations as I opened the box. How long would it have taken him to get the box, the board inside, and the game pieces printed? How long would it have taken him to design this? How long had he been planning this?

"I have a cousin who manufactures board games. I gave him the design and he printed it up for me. I told him it was for a bachelorette party of a friend. But in reality, you won't fuck me, so we're going to play a game about not fucking me."

"I'm not sure what to say," I told him. "You made me a game about not fucking you?"

"Obviously," he said, taking the board out of the box and setting up the cards like those on a Monopoly board.

"Ok, so how do we play?" I asked, reaching for a card. He slapped my hand away and made quiet little tsking sounds at me.

"All of this is kind of unnecessary," he explained. "All you really need are the cards, but I thought it would be fun if there were dice and game pieces and all the trimmings. So, roll the dice. And we go around the board until one of us lands on a card spot. Then pick the card. We get two hours after that to do whatever's on the card. The only rule is, no fucking allowed."

I looked at him incredulously. "Ok, so you designed these mystery cards just for me and they all have non fucking activities?"

"I promise, no fucking involved. The name of the game is Abstinence, after all."

What the cards would involve? Go outside and scream something bizarre? Show the most embarrassing photo on your phone? Tell something you're glad your partner doesn't know about you?

"Is this going to be like Truth or Dare?" I asked.

"Just like it, but only dare, and more adult," he answered. "Look. I'm horny, you're horny. We're not kids anymore. Do you trust me?"

If anyone else had uttered those words, they'd be out of my apartment faster than my roommate's panties come off at a party. Do you trust me was the ultimate red flag. No, I want you to come out and say what you want. But looking at the man in front of me, knowing how far back we went, I was willing to give him a chance.

"I think so, but tell me more about this game," I said tentatively.

Tonight, I would let the boy I'd known go and embrace the man he'd become. He'd filled out nicely. There were muscles moving under his shirt in ways that I would have called attractive on any other guy. And fuck it, I was horny. And I did trust him.

"We're going to get naked and we're going to experiment with how our bodies feel. Are you up for an adventure?" he asked.

I had never been naked in front of anyone. The only thing that I had ever been sexual with was my purple dildo. Even my single high school kiss with Peter May had been chaste and close mouthed. I hesitated. But time wasn't slowing down.

"Yeah, let's do this," I decided, picking a small puppy figurine out of the box. He picked up a large stallion piece, hung like a horse, of course, and placed it next to mine.

"Seriously," I said sarcastically.

He smiled and said nothing.

My eyes traveled across his chest and down to his toes as he retrieved the dice from the box and placed them into my waiting hand. Ok, so he'd grown up. I rolled my eyes at him anyway as I rolled the dice and moved my puppy six spaces around the board.

"Does this space mean anything?" I asked.

"Nope, you have to get to a card spot. Whoever gets to one first gets to read the card and do whatever it says."

He rolled a seven, which was also not a card spot. I rolled the dice again, rolling a three this time. We rolled the dice back and forth for several minutes, moving our pieces around and around the board, neither of us landing on a card spot, until I landed fortuitously on my next turn.

"Ok, you need to pick a card," he said, lifting the deck of cards and shuffling them before handing them to me. "52 cards here. One for every week for the next year if you're amenable to spending your Saturday evenings with me for a while."

"That's a rather big ask," I said to him as I picked a card from the top of the pile. "I'm an adult now. Look at my dazzling social life. I never sit around in my pjs and binge Netflix," I told him sarcastically.

The card was a solid black with a crimson border, matching the game's general vibe. I hesitated before turning it over, wondering what he had in store for me. I had no idea other than his assurances there was no fucking allowed.

Semi erotic smoke sketches covered the margins of the face. From certain angles, the doodles may have been figures entangled in compromising positions. Fascinated by the lines of one smoke figure with legs spread, being penetrated by a second smoke figure, I didn't immediately register the writing on the card.

"Hand drawn by yours truly." He took a little seated bow over the card as I marveled at the skill I knew he had but had never seen rendered so professionally. "You should read the card out loud."

"Step 1. You must touch all exposed skin to your partner's exposed skin.

"Step 2. Each party removes a piece of clothing. Repeat the first step.

"Step 3. Continue until no clothes remain.

"Step 4. Once undressed, remain in a position that allows as much skin-to-skin contact as possible for 20 minutes."

"So, do you want to try this with me?" He asked.

Was I going to do this? I asked myself. I felt like I was at the edge of a cliff. My body really wanted to jump because on the way down flying would feel so good. But what awaited me at the bottom? Were we going to destroy our friendship? Was I going to regret not waiting for my soulmate?

"Are they all like this?" I asked him.

"Yup. The point of this game is to get you to beg me to fuck you every week, and then have you wake up grateful in my arms that I refused to fuck you."

"You are seriously messed up. You know that right?"

"Of course! Wouldn't be me if I wasn't horny, desperate to fuck you, but also intent on keeping you virginal and happy."

For the first time it sank in that he may have been serious all those times. He wanted me. Had wanted me enough to move across the country multiple times. Or was it really a coincidence? Was it creepy that he suddenly appeared at the company I worked for or moved into the apartment next door to me? I wasn't sure. But I was lonely. And I was saving myself. But I was twenty-four. How long did I want to wait?

"I'm a bit creeped out right now," I admitted. "You made an X-rated game for me. You moved across the country and showed up at my work. You moved into the apartment next door. I don't really know what to think."

He started to say something, but I put a hand up to stop him. "Despite all that, I do trust you. And I am horny." A smile played across his lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"I understand. And we can talk about all that," he promised. "Are you in?"

For the first time in his presence, I felt the flickering of butterflies in my stomach. I stood at the edge of that cliff, and I jumped.

"I'm in." He smiled at me, and we began to play.

He stood in front of me and took my hands in his as he pulled me up. That hint of butterflies turned into a nervousness I've never felt with him. It started deep in my stomach and made its way to the tips of my toes and fingers. Despite our long association, I'd never seen him naked. Well, at least not if you didn't count all the times running around in diapers as toddlers.

"So, I guess that covers our hands huh?" I stated.

"No way," he said. "This is a game. It goes beyond hand holding." He ran his fingers over mine, his fingertips brushing up and down each of my fingers. He enveloped my hands in his and brought them to his lips before releasing them.

Neither of us had socks and I needed to break the tension that had formed between us. One foot, then my other found their way onto the tops of his feet. He caught me as I lost my balance. We stood, my feet atop his, my breasts pressed tightly against his chest as I giggled into his shoulder.

"Oh, very clever, but that only covers the top of your feet," he said, tumbling us to the ground. His feet brushed the soles of mine and I in turn wiggled mine against his. My head turned, our cheeks meeting. A deep rumble reverberated through me, his laughter as I rubbed our noses together, foreheads meeting.

"This is all skin," he said, puckering his lips. Ignoring his offered lips, I nodded and brought my chin to his, a teasing smile on my lips. The dance of cat and mouse continued, his mouth and mine, lips never quite touching. Eyelashes tickling mercilessly, breath searing, beads of sweat forming.