Flash

Finally, for the first time, there came the moment I had anticipated; a moment of swelling euphoria as he thrust deep and settled within me. His hips nestled warmly against mine and for a moment I grasped what I had been missing all those years.

Gratification and elation coursed through me, blindingly sharp, like a pulse of electricity. I closed my eyes to the people milling about below us, the bright lights, the laughter, the music. A single tenuous image flickered in my mind: myself, naked, pressed against an unyielding metal railing, my neighbor's hand on my ass, flesh compressed in soft ridges around his fingers.

Yet a lingering sadness lurked quietly in the back of my mind. This was it, the end of the game, the end of this journey. I braced myself against the pride and vulnerability spiraling through my mind, trying not to be swept away at the feel of him stretching me, at the connectedness I found in the moment.

Nervousness, sharp and buzzing through every pore of my body, washed across me. I innately felt control slipping away as a familiar heat started at the corners of my eyes.

His eyes softened momentarily, a few unfamiliar wrinkles around the edges betraying real concern. His finger dipped gently against my cheek and came away wet, a few sparkling drops clinging to the knuckle.

A guttural whisper emerged from my throat.

"I'm ok."

It was enough. He brushed my hair to the side and planted a soft kiss of reassurance under my ear. Warmth spread outward, the kiss tender. The warmth intensified as his lips traversed the curve of my neck. His teeth grazed my skin, drawing a shiver down my spine as he continued to move deep inside me.

He stilled, pressing me painfully against the hard metal, his cock releasing in me as his body tensed and his arms tightened.

"Fuck!"

I was unsteady before him, the ground shifting beneath my feet. My mind scrambled to process the sudden absence of him inside me. My mind stuttered, attempting to form an appropriate question, but the words kept slipping like water through my fingers.

A hollow, disoriented pause followed; the world out of sync.

We were done? He buried his face in my hair as our breathing slowed. I was empty.

Out of the void of bewilderment in which I floated, his voice found me. "Shit, I'm so sorry."

I stood plastered to the railing, looking out over the multitude of unsuspecting people milling below us. Confusion washed over me at his statement. I knew he had come early, and I wondered if it had been my fault. He'd finally fucked me. I'd had a cock inside me, intentionally. I'd felt him moving and passionate and explosive against me. But he'd felt the tears sliding down my cheek. Did he think he'd hurt me? Had he thought I had changed my mind?

He took the condom off and wiped himself with a tissue. I was naked, exposed, staring out at a crowd of strangers who didn't know my world had just shifted. My lips parted, and pressed shut again, trembling as I attempted to suck words from the air around me. Shoulders slumping, brows knitted together, I forced words out.

"Are you upset with me?"

I had forced this on him. Maybe he had been right. Maybe I hadn't been ready. My words stuck in my throat, but his hand which had suddenly moved to my shoulder was unwelcome.

He leaned forward, brows drawing together in concern. His eyes searched my face, but I'm not certain if he hadn't heard me or had purposely ignored what I'd asked.

"Are you okay? I didn't mean to ruin this." His voice was calm and detached, almost dismissive.

For a moment I didn't recognize this man standing in front of me. A man that always understood what I was feeling, always had my best interests in mind had turned inward to some internal conversation I was not privy to. I turned, and he draped my wrap across my shoulders.

Fury was building within me and I wasn't sure why. It might have been because I felt my tears were responsible for his early finish. Or because of the distant tone he'd used when he'd claimed the responsibility of ruining the moment. Maybe part of me just wanted to celebrate the end of virginity without judgment.

"I'm ok."

The sharpness of the words surprised me, even more that they came in my own voice.

"I wanted to last longer. I wanted this to be amazing for you--your first time." Another apology.

Was I angry at him for coming too soon, angry at myself for crying, or angry that neither of us was feeling good about what we'd just done? Concern etched across his face, his eyebrows furrowed. The weight that settled over his eyes pained me. Why couldn't we have this moment? What was wrong with us?

An edge came into my voice that I told myself I hadn't intended, but I wasn't fooling anyone; I was angry. Being angry with him felt wrong, like a dirty secret I needed to hide from him.

"I want to be happy. Isn't this what sex is supposed to feel like? Talk to me. Tell me what you think I should be feeling."

I knew immediately it was a horrible thing to say and I hoped he knew I hadn't meant it. He let out a lengthy, self-recriminating sigh as he swept me into his arms, holding me against him despite my words. He stood, nose in my hair, slow breaths. His attempt at comfort just made me angrier. I wanted him passionate; I wanted to see sparks fly. I didn't want his resignation or his pity.

I pulled away from him. I tried again, ache for both him and myself dripping into my voice. "Can't I have some fucking joy?" Yet another thing I knew I'd regret saying. I didn't know what I was trying to accomplish. His face darkened and I knew all I'd done was set us both up for more pain.

But I was incapable of backing down. This game. Fifty-two weeks was insane. He had admitted as much earlier this evening, but I knew it wasn't about the game. He'd wanted to be perfect for me. I shook my head at him as confusion and hurt warred across his face. I couldn't look at him right now. I just wanted to feel my feelings and sort through the mess we'd both made.

"I'm done with this fucking game." I pulled my cover-up tightly around me and retreated into the crowd below. He started to follow, but one icy look was all it took to freeze him in place.

Disjointed fragments of thoughts crashed through my mind, each one sharper, more searing, slicing with fury and despair as I stormed through the mall.

I wasn't good enough.

I'd ruined the evening.

I was broken.

He doesn't want me.

Hot tears fell down my cheeks, and I didn't bother wiping them away as I charged into the metro station. The concerned eyes of strangers trailed after me.

How the fuck did we get to this point?

***

Earlier that week, my mind had floated like the bubbles dancing across the sudsy water beneath my hands. Shimmering, aimless. Hands on dishes, hands down my thighs through iridescent suds. Rinse. Repeat. Dry towel tracing the curve of the plate, soaking up stray droplets. Unfulfilled fantasy towel caressing my curves, hot breath at my neck. Swept away, frozen with a dish in my hand, hovering over the dry stack as the hands in my mind glided over my hips.

My neighbor walked into the apartment, saw me frozen and flushed, said nothing. The fantasy became a reality as his body molded to mine, warm lips on my neck. My stomach fluttered as his fingers brushed the hair from my temple.

Am I still dreaming?

The moment broke like the bubbles on the surface of the water, ripples radiating outward as I realized dimly he hadn't been the one in my fantasy. Nerves churned deep in my stomach as I agonized over the need to tell him

I met someone

. His warmth retreated, the clink of clean dishes settling in cabinets resounding through the room--a temporary respite from thoughts of confession.

The water drained from the sink, the last dish in its place. His arms around me, lips meeting mine. My fingers entwined in his hair, his pulse in my ears, his breath in my mouth. I'd temporarily forgotten I needed to speak with him. A giddy laugh ripped from my mouth.

What are your intentions toward my son?

The clichéd thought was not something I was ready to share with him. But the nervous laughter bubbled from deep inside at this insane domestic moment. My realization the game might be coming to an end collided with the wild abandon of being nude on the national mall or eating pastries off his hard cock.

"What is it?" His lips parted slightly, searching for words that wouldn't help my frame of mind. A wrinkle of deep thought appeared on his forehead as my giggles ebbed to a slow trickle, and I prayed he wouldn't see the shine of tears at the corners of my eyes. I shook my head. How did I tell him without it feeling like betrayal or rejection? I didn't want to give him up. But the nervous virgin I'd been mere months ago had been lost somewhere around the Washington Monument. I had to tell him.

The laughter died in my throat.

***

By the next day, I had been sure. I was done waiting, and I was done with his game.

The shelves of toothpaste and shaving cream closed in on me, and my breathing came in short, quick gasps that I hoped no one noticed. The buzzing fluorescent lights failed to drive away the encroaching blackness fuzzing at the sides of my vision.

My bright red handbasket called attention to my shopped items.

Look at me!

I'd filled the basket with cheap, bulky items I did not need, hoping to deflect away from my actual shopping goal. Armed with the camouflage of beans and marshmallows, I walked down the personal hygiene aisle once, twice. Deep breaths.

As I neared the sexual health section, my heart pounded, and my footsteps became unnervingly clear. Despite the feeling of eyes on my back, lurking just out of sight, no one was in the aisle.

Steeling myself, I stopped in front of the condoms.

Why were there so many kinds?

Tears clouded my eyes as I looked at the boxes and foil packages. Jagged, unhinged thoughts filled my mind. I considered buying an assortment, calling my roommate, leaving with nothing.

In the end, I picked a box of Trojans from the wall. I'd at least heard of the brand. It was going to be okay. I was going to be okay. No one had seen me. I concentrated on slowing my breathing as I tucked the box under the dried beans and thanked God for self-checkout aisles.

***

Flashes of anger from the night my neighbor played wingman for his cousin made my guilt so much heavier when I had asked my roommate to find me a date for Friday night. I told myself I'd been clear with my neighbor that we were not dating. We also weren't fucking. But I wasn't sure

what

we were.

Undeniably, however, the scene with the dishes had unnerved me. The casual sensualness of his body against mine, the nonchalance of his touch. That wasn't Saturday night; that was claiming a spot within my life. I hadn't agreed to that.

I had no intention of fucking on the first date, but I had braved the rite of buying condoms, so condoms joined the chapstick and crumpled receipts in my purse.

When I met Andrew, my guilt increased a hundredfold. He was tall enough to reach the top shelf but not tall enough to play professional basketball. His body screamed runner; long, sleek muscles moved under an understated grey button-down shirt. Turtle shell glasses and untameable hair lent the perfect undertone of nerd.

Like me, he danced and had a shot to appease my roommate but was just as ill at ease amid the bar-hopping crowd. We spent most of the evening huddled in a corner, laughing at the people on the dance floor and pondering how to make flameproof armor for a knight facing a dragon.

The evening was wonderful and horrible. Someone sat in my seat, wearing my clothing, speaking with my mouth. This stranger could not stop imagining the feeling of her date's fingers tangling on her hair, thrusting into her as she soaked through her panties. She flirted shamelessly, her hands on his shoulder, arm, the middle of his back. She delighted in the flush of his face when she pressed her body tightly against his when they danced, feeling him come massively alive when she guided his hand to her ass.

Standing at the metro station, a train coming in two minutes, they exchanged numbers and agreed to meet up soon. Waiting for the train, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, his fingers tentatively met hers, sparks exploding on her palm as his fingers slid between hers. She turned her face just as the train pulled in. Only seconds remained. The doors opened, and his lips were on hers. A dry, chaste kiss, but ripe with butterflies. Then he was gone.

I had done it. I met a man I wanted to fuck. A man I wanted to know. Reality crashed upon me.

What was I going to tell my neighbor?

I thought about the hours I had spent grinding away at this game. I had no more intention of finishing. Maybe it was the pressure; the way he got so engrossed in the game and expected me to feel the same way. But I don't.

I thought about how safe I felt with his body wrapped around mine. And the pleasure I got from watching his composure crack just enough to glimpse the animal underneath that wanted to tear my clothes off and fuck me on a public park bench.

Then I thought of the man who used to sit on a couch with me and watch silly cartoons, or episodes of Friends I'd watched a million times. The man who'd never kissed me, never looked as if he wanted to devour me whole, never had his fingers up my cunt.

Was I capable of existing under the shade of either man?

Fuck him.

Except that I did want to fuck him. Anger clawed its way up my throat, jagged and desperate, demanding release. In my head, I saw him staggering back, surprised at the force of my will as I threw him onto my bed, forced his hands over his head and sank onto his cock. Finally.

One last time

, I promised myself. This last time, I would fuck him. What came next couldn't be solely on me. We'd have to figure out where to go from here together.

***

"You up for a round?"

"Of course," I answered. A voice in the back of my head was calling me a coward. I listened to the frantic insistence that I tell him about Andrew. Tell him that I was done with the game. I wanted to. In my head I started to talk to him, but I couldn't force the words out.

Hey, there's something we need to talk about.

"Ok, I'm going to get the game." He waited a moment as if he knew I had something to say. The moment grew.

I'm done with the game.

. His brows furrowed as if the words were written across my face. I begged my mouth to open, but all the scenarios in which he stormed out of the room and never spoke to me again flooded my mind. I watched as his back disappeared into my room.

I met someone.

We took turns rolling the dice, and I marveled that it was still just us despite everything I needed to say and wasn't saying. He and I were sitting on my couch, and it was ok. I could say what I needed to say any time tonight, and I knew, absolutely knew, he wouldn't reject me forever. Maybe he'd get mad. Perhaps he'd need time to adjust. Maybe he would have already thought through options that would allow us to move forward with our lives. But I still couldn't force my lips to open. The little voice in the back of my head was saying over and over,

What if you're wrong?

Coward.

I landed on a card square and picked a card.

"Step 1. Find a long coat. (Raincoat, trench coat, bathrobe)."

He clapped his hands as I read. "What are we going flashing or something?" I asked.

"Just keep reading!" he instructed me. The corners of his mouth pulled up in excitement, the glow in his eyes undeniable. I knew then that I was lost. I wanted so much to be swept up in his enthusiasm. I promised myself that I would join him on one last adventure. Then we would talk.

"Step 2. Undress.

"Step 3. Wear the coat and nothing else.

"Step 4. Proceed to the following locations and flash each other: grocery, hardware store, mall."

"We

are

going flashing?!" I exclaimed.

"Oh yeah. I've always wanted to do this," he answered.

"And I don't have to flash any strangers?" I clarified.

"Nope, just you and me. I mean, unless you want to. You can flash whoever you want. Just don't get us arrested."

"OK then."

I chose a filmy beach coverup that tied in the front. Large pink hibiscus flowers ostensibly covered enough that I wouldn't get arrested for indecent exposure, but the short, silky garment left me feeling naughty and daring.

I stood in front of him, purposely not wrapping myself yet to gauge my changing reaction to being naked. This was a real, tangible change in myself. At that moment, I knew that the game hadn't been a waste of time; it hadn't been some delusion that we'd end up together. He had been right. It was a tool to help me feel comfortable in my own body so I could share myself with someone. I turned away for a moment, ostensibly to grab my coverup, but in reality, I needed to own the fact that it wouldn't be him I was destined to share myself with. A single tear dropped to the floor, and then I pulled my mouth back to neutral, relaxed the tension in my eyebrows, and unclenched my jaw.

One last time.

I wondered if there was any way I could express this last time as a thank you. I didn't want to say goodbye. I wanted to pause and reassess. I wanted him in my life; I just needed to figure out in what capacity and how to fit others--but first, flashing.

Silky synthetics graced my skin as I pulled my arms through the flowing coverup. In the mirror, I walked back and forth, confirming that my nudity wouldn't be on full display until I intended.

Our first stop was the grocery store. I tried hard not to let myself feel mortified at being in the store. Flashes of yesterday's trip to buy condoms haunted me; imaginary eyes followed every movement of my body.

My nerves were mislaid. The meager crowd of Saturday night shoppers went about their business without a glance at us. My neighbor placed his hands on two cantaloupes, stems up, thumbs circling suggestively. The motions sent my nipples immediately erect. In retaliation, I comically attempted to fit two avocados into my tiny hands.

"Lick a banana, I dare you." He waggled his eyebrows at me.

"No, that's gross. Someone is going to eat that!" I replied, fingertips gently stroking a long purple eggplant.

Poking his shoulder, I motioned for him to bend down to my level. On my toes, the tips of my breasts brushing against him, warm breath tickling his ear, I asked, "Are you hard yet?"

"I am now."

We wandered the aisles looking for objects to tease each other and an appropriate first flashing location. We'd reached the center of the store, full of hysterically out-of-season seasonal items: snowflake dishes, Christmas cards, and Hanukkah candles.

My neighbor stopped me, hand on my shoulder, single finger to his lips. A lone woman was faced away from us at the other end of the aisle, but that didn't deter him as he opened his coat. He stood in front of me, jacket spread wide, standing tall, cock hard and long in front of him. He swung it from side to side, quickly closing his coat as I giggled.

Would I ever find this carefree playfulness with anyone else?

Yes, I told the voice in my head. This wasn't the end. This was a grand send-off to the next adventure.

"Shhh!" His eyes widened with amusement and warning as the woman at the end of the aisle turned around. We retreated, the tent at the front of his coat drawing my eyes, wetness beginning between my legs.

"It's now or never," he said as we entered the frozen food aisle. Shivering in the icy air, nipples so hard they hurt, I glanced around to make sure the couple at the front of the aisle was turned away. Knowing anyone could enter at any moment, I quickly opened my cover-up and bared myself to him. I glanced at my reflection in the glass freezer doors and promptly closed the cover-up.