The summer after I finished college, I moved back into my parents' house and tried to find a job. The only openings were at places like Dairy Queen or Wal-Mart, and I don't know - I guess I had too much pride to accept those after I'd gotten my degree in something as esoteric as Latin Classics.
But my pride flew out the window when my older brother's friend, Derek, showed up at the door one day.
"Derek!" I said when I saw him, immediately breathless. "Are you - I mean, Tim isn't here. They finally switched his shift at the gas station."
My brother was three years older than me, but he'd lived with my parents since graduating high school. He never went to college, never got a job that paid more than minimum wage. He mostly locked himself up in his childhood bedroom and got high. It was pathetic.
It was the future I worried I'd have, if I didn't get a fucking job.
But all thoughts of my career flew out of my head when I saw Derek. He and my brother had been friends since grade school, and I'd always had a crush on him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with interesting green eyes and a way of smiling at you that made you feel like you were the only person in the world. Not that I was on the receiving end of most of those smiles. He treated me like I was barely beneath his notice most of the time, except for the few times when he and my brother had ganged up to make fun of me for the music I listened to or the way I'd started dressing or the stupid thing I'd just said. Derek made me feel about two inches tall sometimes.
And yet I was half in love with him, had been for years. How sick was that?
Derek leaned against the door frame, his gaze running from the top of my head down to my feet. Had I imagined the way he'd checked me out? The way his eyes lingered at my breasts, braless underneath my baggy t-shirt as I'd been lounging around the house?
"Will Tim be home by eight?" he asked. "There's a party tonight at the place of some of our high school buddies. It'll be like old times."
I knew the kinds of parties Derek was referring to, but I'd never been invited to one myself. Everyone would meet up at one of the rich kids' houses, or anywhere where someone's parents were out of town. They'd drink and smoke and do harder drugs that I didn't even know by name. They'd hook up in bedrooms and closets. They'd come back to school on Monday still glassy-eyed, secretive grins on their faces when they caught the eye of a classmate who'd been at the party, too.
"He's not supposed to get off until midnight," I said.
Derek looked at me again, and this time there was no denying that he was checking me out. Underneath my shirt, I felt my nipples tighten in response.
"And when do you get off?" he asked.
I giggled, like a stupid little girl. "I don't have a job," I said. That's not what he meant and I knew it. I thought briefly back to the time when he'd . . . but that was still an embarrassing memory, even if the thought of it made me hot all over.
"Then you're free," he said. "Pick you up at eight?"
"Sure," I said. I hoped my voice was breezy, as though I hadn't been dreaming about this exact moment for over a decade. He smiled at me, that special curving of the lips that made me feel like the only woman who existed on the entire planet, and somehow I knew that he saw right past my false nonchalance.
***
Derek was right on time, and he seemed to appreciate the outfit I'd changed into for the party - a kicky skirt and a tight t-shirt that read Virginia is for Lovers across my breasts. I wasn't wearing a bra, since I was an average C but perky enough not to need one, and under my skirt was my sluttiest thong underwear. I hoped Derek would like it, in the event that we found a bedroom to hook up in at the party. I'd already decided to myself that I'd go wherever the night took me, and if that meant a brief, meaningless fling with the object of my childhood crush, well, bring it on.
Derek told me that I'd probably recognize a lot of people from high school, and I did - a few from my own class, and a few from the classes above me. There was Pete, the guy who'd been crowned homecoming prince the year before I graduated. Dave, the guy who'd taken pictures for the school yearbook. Jackson, the burly football player who'd been in the class before mine and my class after he failed his senior year.
I was a little discomfited to see even Paul, who had snapped my bra sometimes when we stood in line at the cafeteria, and who once told me I had DSL, which I really thought meant a kind of internet until someone explained it to me years later. Dick-sucking lips.
I averted my face, hoping he wouldn't see me.
There were a few other guys who I didn't know, but I was surprised that there were no other females at the party. Had they just not arrived yet?
Derek got me a beer, opening the top for me with his bare hands, and I smiled gratefully. I tipped the liquid down my throat, feeling it warm my belly. This was nice.
Derek and I sat on a couch, and I noticed that he sat much closer to me than he needed to. I thrilled when he placed a hand on my thigh, squeezing slightly. He smiled at me.
"So you work at the bank now?" I called over the noise, hoping to start conversation. Tim told me that Derek had recently been promoted to some position just under vice president at the local bank where he worked. I had no idea what exactly he did, but it sounded terribly important, especially for someone who was only in his mid-twenties.
"I like your tits in that top," he yelled back, and I flushed. But hadn't I hoped he would notice? I gave him a shy smile as I took another swig of my beer.
It wasn't long before the weed came out, and people started passing around a joint. I took a couple of hits off of it, even though pot made me lightheaded and always had. I felt the room shift slightly even from the little bit I'd inhaled, and I could feel my limbs loosening.
"I think about you all the time," Derek said into my ear. "Tim's little sister, spread eagle, touching herself. Do you think about that?"
I felt my face heating up even more than it had before. Somehow, I hadn't expected Derek to actually bring it up, even though of course I knew immediately what he was referring to. I had just started high school, and he'd walked in on me masturbating. I'd been so embarrassed, but he'd just stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, and watched.
I should've stopped, covered myself up. But something had made me continue. To this day, no other orgasm could compare to the one I'd had that day.
"Sometimes," I said.
