For a few weeks, things started to stabilize. I found some excuse to stay at Rebecca's apartment almost every night, and Jennifer found some excuse to come visit me after class every day or two. I kept trying to rationalize what was going on, telling myself that my time with Rebecca was only about sex... but a few days into this new pattern, things cooled off physically between me and her drastically. Whenever I brought up the possibility of sex, Rebecca seemed almost uninterested.
I was pretty sure, even then, that her disinterest was related to the wall I'd hit with Jennifer. Every day or two, Jennifer would call me with some thinly disguised excuse, and she'd come over to my apartment. Sometimes, I'd wake up at Rebecca's late, and have to rush over to my own apartment, so that Jennifer wouldn't start to get suspicious. Each time she came over, Jennifer and I would make silly small talk for a few minutes, and then end up fingering each other. Soon after that, she'd find another thinly disguised excuse to leave.
After awhile, the excuses and small talk started to fall away, and our get-togethers became almost a habit. Jennifer would call, show up, we'd get each other off without pretense, and off she'd go. The sadistic thrill of control faded for me, because Jennifer absolutely would not do anything more, or anything different, no matter how hard I tried to manipulate her or convince her. After she left, I'd spend my days mostly alone, feeling increasingly empty after each encounter. It was only late at night, when Jennifer had gone home, that Rebecca would text me, and I'd head over to her apartment to hang out and sleep next to her.
That, too, started to make me feel a little bad, even as it made me confused and oddly happy. Hanging out with her at night was really fun -- we'd watch movies, drink a little, talk about school and life -- but every time I brought up sex, she'd immediately shut down or shrug it off. I tried to contain my conflicting feelings as best I could, but it started to get painful.
The longer we went without even anything as simple as kissing, the more attractive she started to seem to me. Sometimes, while watching movies in the dark, I caught myself staring at the soft lines of her neck, or the moist curves of her lips, or the sheen of her sleek red hair, whenever she wasn't looking. The more attracted to her I found myself, the more painful the question repeating in my head became -- 'why aren't you interested in me anymore?'
And then there was that other question, the deeper, darker, more nebulous one -- 'why do I care so much?' Even her laugh, her smile, and the face she made when yawning became attractive to me. I lived every day excited to go see her again, until the pain and confusion of our lack of physical interaction started to eat away at the excitement. I started to make excuses not to see either of them. I watched Rebecca's reactions to each excuse like a hawk, hoping to see any sign of unhappiness -- but, maddeningly, she didn't seem too bothered if I didn't come over. Jennifer, on the other hand, was unhappy by the second or third time I pulled a no-show, and I could tell from her regular text messages that she was growing increasingly frustrated.
I was growing really depressed about the whole situation. The more my excitement for Rebecca and Jennifer faded, the more I thought about my ex-best friend. I kept wondering where she was, whether she was happy, whether she might still love me, and if she could somehow save me from all of this, if only I could find her. She didn't seem to have a Facebook page -- what the hell, who doesn't have a Facebook page? -- and nobody I talked to from 'the good old days' had heard from her in awhile. Had she 'pulled a hippie,' and gone to some third world country to build houses for the poor or something? If anyone would have done that, it would have been her.
I really felt like I was about to bottom out in depression, when something happened that suddenly jolted me back into the positive realms of emotion. I hadn't heard from Jennifer in almost a week, and, despite my now almost overwhelming attraction to Rebecca, had hardly had more than a shallow passing conversation with her in awhile. I wished that I had something to grab Rebecca's attention with again, and, surprisingly, I got it. A simple kernel of excitement showed up on my phone.
It was a text from Jennifer, stating, quite clearly, that she was 'desperate,' that I couldn't 'leave her hanging like this,' and, most importantly, that she would 'do anything' to continue our little rituals. 'Do anything' -- now that was a powerful phrase. It almost instantly sparked my imagination. When I read that text message, I smiled, because I knew that things were about to look up. I dialed Rebecca's number, a simple but exciting plan already forming in my thoughts.
*****
I was ecstatic when Kira finally said I could come over. It had been a few weeks since I had last had an orgasm by her hand, and, try as I might, I just could not manage to get myself off alone. I tried ignoring her for an entire week, but that only made the pressure build exponentially. Pretty soon, almost every minute of every day, I was walking around thinking about and wanting another orgasm. A whole new world had opened up to me, and then had suddenly been taken away, and I was desperate to have it back again.
I still believed that I just needed to figure out what it was that helped me orgasm, and then I could quit fooling around with girls and go back to the old, safe, quiet me. Before her sudden cold shoulder, Kira and I had fingered each other ten or eleven times. I had almost gotten used to it -- almost started looking forward to it, even. My orgasms had gotten a little better with each encounter, seemingly correlated with my own measure of how skilled I was at getting her off. The better I felt at pleasuring her, the stronger my pleasure was. I had been looking forward to better and better orgasms through practice -- and then, bam, she basically disappeared.
It hadn't taken me long to break down and text her that I would 'do anything' to fool around again. I simply couldn't take the pressure anymore. I had been walking around horny and frustrated for days, and I finally broke after a marathon hour-long masturbation session that still failed to get me off. Exhausted, I had texted her that I was desperate... and she actually said I could come over!
By the time I was getting out of my car near her apartment, I was starting to regret what I had said. All sorts of terrifying images danced through my thoughts as I imagined what she might want me to do. I wonder if she knew just how strongly I felt held hostage. I knew that there was a good chance that she might ask me to... lick her... down there... and I wasn't entirely sure that I could say no.
As I walked up the street to her apartment, I couldn't stop thinking about it. On the one hand, I was terrified, grossed out, and unhappy at the idea of going down on a girl. The idea simply had too many labels and ideas and connotations attached to it for me to accept. On the other hand... we'd fingered each other quite a few times, and it's not like her scent was unpleasant or anything... and my fingers did feel really nice and intimate inside her...
