Lesson In Modern Culture Ch 02

Reality soon found her as she sat in the cab, resting her head against the window. Between her thighs a gentle throbbing still existed, reminding her that what had passed had really occurred. In a way, she was sickened by her actions, giving herself to such a disgusting man; her aunt would kill her if she ever knew. The other part of her, well, was really quite torn. Her mind was blank, and hatred seeped within her veins to her heart, and as tears welled and slipped from her eyes, she realized she could not hate Gabriel for her weakness, but only herself. It was her loneliness in life that threw her into his arms.

She fingered the hem of her skirt, and choked back the tears. She imaged the disgust she felt was somewhat what women who had been raped felt. Yes, she had been willing, but her heart had been stolen. People had sex all the time without feeling anything, at least that is what the magazines she read told her. But if that was all true, why did she know feel like her heart was being torn into two?

The cab driver pulled up outside of her apartment building. She slung her bag over her shoulder, paid the man, and walked out into the night. The doorman met her with a smiling face, which soon faded when he saw the tears. He asked no questions, but handed her a handkerchief. She thanked him, and moved to the elevator, riding up to the fourth floor. She still had some music to face tonight.

She walked down the hall, placing her key in the door, and turning the key. The door opened to silence. Her aunt was asleep. Half of her sighed in relief, the other had wanted her to scold her, and then ask her why she was crying. She wanted to fall into her aunt's arms and sob her eyes out, telling her she had been so stupid, and that she wanted to die.

Mia moved into her room, closed the door, and fell upon her bed. The book bag fell to the floor with a thud, and glancing at the clock, she saw an hour till midnight. The strength left her body, and as her head hit the pillow, she cried her last ounces of strength out into the linen.

In the morning, she awoke to her aunt shaking her, "Wake up! It is time for school!" She was not asking where she had been last night. She woke up groggy, and slowly got out of bed in a zombie-like state. "My! Your eyes are all puffy! Did you forget to take your allergy medication?"

She nodded. There was no use in crying out a broken heart again. She got up, and somehow made it to the shower. After that she somehow made it to school, and somehow found her way through her day. She couldn't remember how she did on her Chemistry test, and even though she had skipped lunch, she didn't realize her hunger. She made her way out the school doors and down the path somehow. She heard someone calling to someone. She kept walking.

A hand wrapped around her wrist, "Mia?" She turned her head slowly, "My God what happened to you?" She looked up at the office secretary.

"N-Nothing." She stuttered out.

"Oh." She did not push, and for that she was thankful, "There was a message for you in the office." The woman handed her an envelope, and a smile, secretly telling her to cheer up.

"Thank you." Mia looked down at the envelope. It was not her aunt's handwriting. She moved off to the gate that surrounded the school's yard, and leaned against it as she torn open the envelope. She drew out the letter, and read:

Mia,

Meet me at my apartment after you get out of school.

Gabriel

She looked up at the sky, and back down at the letter. She shook her head. She shouldn't go. He would probably just... she sighed softly. Maybe he wanted a relationship? Maybe he had made a mistake last night when he told her to leave? Her hopes were growing quickly, and she couldn't stop them. She hailed a cab, and with what seemed like forever, made it to his apartment door. She knocked twice.

Time passed, and she heard someone trip over something and curse. It was him. He opened the door, wearing nothing but a pair of drawstring pants. She felt her stomach twist into a dozen more knots, as it was already in a hundred.

"Come in." He moved back into the room and left the door open. He drew out a cigarette, and lit it as he sat on the couch.

She entered the room, and closed the door behind her. She looked at him as she stood by the door, her legs not having the strength to really set her free. She stared at him.

"Aren't you going to scold me for smoking?" He half-smiled, as if it were amusing him.

She shook her head, and looked down at her shoes. It seemed like the thing to do.

"Come sit down. You are driving me nuts standing around like that." She moved to the opposite chair, and sat down. She looked around his apartment, seeing paintings of various nude women. He was also an artist.

She tossed the note down at his feet, as if demanding him to explain it.

He looked down at the note, then back at her with an amused glance. "No, I am not going to purpose." He winked, and she felt like crying. He itched his nose with the hand that held his cigarette. "Look... I guess..." He scratched the back of his neck, "I am not used to doing this." He looked up at her, "I guess I just wanted to say... Do you want a drink?" He got up moving kind of awkwardly to a table that held some wine and other hard liquors.

She folded her arms across her chest, feeling an opportunity for a bite, "Is that all you wanted? You dragged me down here to ask if I wanted a drink?"

He turned around with a bemused look.

She stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder, "Because if that is it, I really do not have the time for this." Might as well as walk away from this with a little pride. Maybe then it would not hurt as much.

He set the wine bottle down, and moved back over to her, pulling her bag from her shoulder and letting it fall to the ground. He placed his hand at her neck, and rubbed his thumb up and down her throat, pressing softly with his thumb to show he had control over her life. She looked up at him, and his mouth took hers, pulling at her lower lip, biting into her neck, as his hand cupped her breast. She whimpered softly, almost giving a cry of protest as he laid her back upon the couch. He ran his hand up her thigh, sliding his hand up her skirt, and cupping her bottom. She looked up into his eyes, and suddenly, she felt his hand move softer. He scooped her up in his arms, and he carried her to his bed, laying her across the ruffled sheets. "Gabriel?"

"Hm?" He looked at her, stroking the hair from his face.

"Why did you... I mean... cast me aside last night?" She looked up at him slowly, a little scared of the answer.

He let his full weight fall against her, as he half-laid upon her. He sighed, and looked down into her eyes, "You... I... You are young."

"I am eighteen. That is hardly young." She looked up at him, as if looking threw the bullshit.

"You seemed too... well... I guess sweet to do what I usually do to women. Which is use them for sex and discard them, pick them up when I need a pick me up. At least, that is what another woman said about me." He sort of half-chuckled uncomfortably.

"Who was she?"

"Just some girl from a..."

She cut him off, "No... the one who hurt you?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, "What are you talking about?"

"In every book I've read, when a man sleeps around, some woman hurt him, and that was like his revenge on the female sex."

He looked down at her confusingly, and then sat up. He got up, heading back for his bottle of wine, and drawing out the cork and drinking straight from the bottle. The room was quiet for a bit, and he drank till the bottle was close to half-empty. He moved to his stereo, fumbling with CD's before putting in something that suited him. He hit the repeat button, and Moonlight Sonata played over the speakers.

She got up, and moved over to his paintings, trying to change the subject. She looked at a painting of a beautiful red haired woman, lying naked across his couch, a rose between her bare thighs, and the bud covering her pussy. Her eyes were green, and she looked at the viewer with passion, as if she wanted to pounce them, yet society's standards would not allow her to do so. "She is beautiful. A model?" She asked, half-turning so I could see the painting and him.

He shook his head, but did not go on.

She moved to him, wrapping her arms around him from behind, kissing his shoulder softly. "I hated what you did yesterday." He moved to turn and face her, but she stopped him, "No, I cannot seem to speak when you are looking at me." She stroked his back with hand, her fingertips sliding up and down his spine slowly, "Yesterday, you were my first." He grew tense, and then he turned to face her, not stopping at her protesting hands.

He took her hands, and turned them over slowly, drawing them up to his mouth, and kissing her palms slowly. He whispered softly, "I wish I would have known."

"Surely you must have had some idea." She looked down at her hands in his. They seemed to fit perfectly.

He nodded, but did not explain any further. He took her hand, drawing her over to the floor-to-ceiling window, and turned her to look out at the view. He stood behind her, and kissed her neck softly, "Best view in the city." He was right. The bridge was lit up with its pink, blue, and purple lights, the sun setting behind it. She smiled softly, and he reached to the buttons of her shirt, undoing them slowly, just enough to fall beneath her breasts. His hand slid into her bra, cupping the flesh of her breast. His mouth brushed softly against her neck, barely grazing the flesh, but causing her to shiver. He gave her breast a firm squeeze, waiting for a cry from her lips, before releasing. His hand slid down her stomach, undoing the rest of her shirt, sliding it back from her shoulders he undressed her before the world below. He unfastened her bra, and slid it from her body, tossing it aside with her shirt. His hands cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers, as she moaned softly, closing her eyes to feel all of what he was giving her.

He knelt down behind her, and unzipped the back of her skirt, slowly letting the material fall down to her ankles, as her plain black cotton bikini panties were revealed. She felt self-conscious that she would be wearing such childish underwear for him to see. He didn't make mention of it, but instead slid it down and left only her heeled shoes on. He held her lips, and forced him to face her, as he pressed her back against the window.

As he knelt, he slid his hand up between her thighs, parting them, and as his hand made it up to the silky wet curls at her pussy, he stroked her slit slowly, teasingly, as she moaned. "Tell me what you want." He kissed her stomach softly, and looked up at her, as her eyes shot open.

What should she say? Did he expect her to say something completely naughty? Why could he not just... she blushed furiously as she opened her lips, "I-I..." she stuttered, and blushed more, "I want y-you to touch me."

She was thankful he settled for that, as his fingers pushed deeper against her slit, letting them sink into her clit as he stroked slowly in gentle circles. Her body trembled, as little patched of heat began to form over her flesh. She closed her eyes moaning, as his fingers slipped into her pussy, and cried out, arching her back as they curled against that other spot that drives all women crazy. His mouth moved to her pussy, flicking the light spray of curls there, before pressing into her clit, and flicking slowly. His speed slowly increased, as his fingers fucked her pussy, he added a third finger, pushing in and out, spreading his fingers, and curling them inside her. She could barely stand, her knees growing weak. His free hand rested under her ass, providing a little support.

He drew his head back, "Oh, you're so wet... so delicious..." He stood, and kissed her. She tasted herself on his mouth, and as his tongue probed her mouth, she tasted herself further.

He undressed before her, and then took her hand, wrapping it around his cock, "Stroke firmly, like this." He took her thumb and her forefinger, placing them in a circle around his cock, tightening it how he liked it, and told her to stroke. As she did, he grew harder; she liked having that power, to make him hard. His head tilted back slightly, and he groaned. He was rock hard after a moment, and a few moments later, he pulled her hand away, placing his hands on her hips, and turned her around, bending her over, and slapping her ass lightly, as he parted her legs. She felt him place the head of his cock at her pussy, and slowly slide just the head into her pussy. "Tell me how you want me to fuck you."

She liked what he had done to her yesterday. "Fuck me hard."

She felt him grab her hips, and he looked into her eyes threw the reflection on the glass. He smirked at her, and pulled her hard back against him, thrusting into the hilt. She cried out loudly, and he felt her tremble. He drew back and thrust into her again, just the same way. He slowly increased his speed, taking her harder, slamming into her tightness, and groaning as he did. She trembled, and he felt her growing tight around her, growing wet. He knew she was close, and then he pulled out. She moaned in protest, but he just picked her up, and carried her over to his bed. He laid her down, and knelt at her feet, drawing off her shoes one by one. "I want to make love to you as you cum."

She looked up at him, with a slightly confused look, before nodding slowly. He wrapped his arms around her, and drew her into him, as he laid between her thighs. He kissed her passionately as he took her in one long stroke, moving slowly against her, as his mouth caressed her neck, and her breasts, taking each nipple in his mouth and sucking gently. He closed his eyes, holding her closely, rocking his hips in a grind against hers, her body trembling in his arms. She cried out softly against his neck, moving with him as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him just as close.

"I love you, Leila." She felt him go ridged, as she did as well. He waited for her to pull away and slap him. She wondered who Leila was. She did not want to pull away, and she did not want him to cast her aside again. She reached up stroking his hair, their eyes meeting.

"I love you, Gabriel." She whispered softly, and then kissed him tenderly.

For a minute, he did not know what to do. He looked up at the painting of Leila, and as he drew his hips back, he sank into Leila once again, suddenly, he was thrusting as she liked it, slow and hard, he took Mia's arms and pinned them over her head, as he thrust into her again. Mia cried out, arching her back against his motions, much as Leila had. He reached down and pulled one of her legs up around him, and pushed the other one back as she tried to bring it up. He caressed her neck softly, resting his head against Mia's shoulder, as he made love to Leila's picture that stared at him. He trembled, "I never want to let you go." Mia wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. She knew he was not talking to her, but she would hold him, and let him have her as Leila if it helped him. He was weak, with a strong front. And as he drew back and thrust into her over and over, she felt heat rise threw her body, as she trembled, and cried out, cumming, tightening around him. As she came, he trembled on top of her, his cum filling her body with heat, as he thrust threw their orgasms.

He collapsed, his energy spent, and she held him, kissing his forehead. Her fingertips ran up and down his spine, as his body rested heavy against her own, his head upon her shoulder. Neither of them brought up Leila, but he did rise his head, and kiss her softly, "Thank you Mia." He looked into her eyes, and she knew what he meant.

She nodded with a smile, "It's alright." She brushed his hair from his face, and she kissed him gently. They fell asleep like that, in each other's arms, and when she awoke a few hours later, the painting was turned away, facing the wall.