I tried not to think about Drew as I got undressed. It was one of those rare humid summer days, and my tank top clung to my breasts as I lifted it gently off and flung it to the ground. It landed on an empty Ben and Jerry's carton. Gasping from the heat and exasperation, I scurried around my room attempting to clear away the evidence of three weeks' heartbreak. I was slightly disappointed in myself. I had never wanted to be one of those girls. I had never wanted to sob into my pillow and curse his filthy name at the top of my lungs on the phone with one of my girlfriends. I had always thought of myself as a smart girl, those I suppose it was only relative. I never got wrapped up in high school drama, and I spent most of my free time reading English literature or drawing anatomical sketches of the little birds perched outside my window. In fact, I doubt I would have had an interest in boys at all had I not be so inconceivably and uncontrollably horny.
My friends couldn't understand me. They all had had their hookups and boyfriends, but they viewed sex as more of a chore than a treat. Most of my friends were tall with washboard stomachs and perky, if small, breasts which they made no effort to conceal, and yet the majority of their sexual encounters had been at the urging, begging rather, of their significant others. I was different though. For one, I stood at 5"1' and couldn't keep a relationship going for the life of me. It wasn't as though I hadn't tried. I would have given my soul to be able to feel the love and appreciation I imagined they all must feel when someone loves them, but for one reason or another I was the girl who always got dumped.
"Jenna, please come out with us tonight. You shouldn't be alone right now," my friend Cassidy pleaded with me night after night. But it was always the same story: the attraction, the lust, the affection, the refusal. I was just stupid enough to believe that just because I put out it would make them want to be with me.
"Don't be too easy Jenna, boys like a challenge. Maybe you should focus on yourself for once," this was another of Cassidy's favorite arguments. But they just didn't understand. I wasn't giving myself to these boys out of obligation or some low self-esteem complex. I wanted cock. It was just my taste in men that was getting in the way.
I bent down to remove my gym shorts. The clock read 4:38. Almost time. As I searched for something decent to wear, my eyes roved over my lace panties lying abandoned in my top drawer. Automatically my mind flashed to Drew. His hands were innocent exploring my outer folds, one hand cupping my pussy gently, the other probing uncertainly inside me.
I tried not to be turned on by the memory. After everything, I thought he would be different somehow. I had always struggled to find boys my age with the same mental capacity for the things I enjoyed. The conversations were always too dull, or otherwise completely beyond my interest. But Drew...from the moment I met him three years ago I knew that he and I understood something about one another. He was brilliant with a wit quicker than mine, and a mouth that got him in more trouble than anyone I knew. Perhaps his insecurities stemmed from his appearance, or perhaps his mother's domineering, but he always loathed himself in secret, and the first time I sensed this weakness in him was the first time I was dying to have him inside me.
But no, his religion always had to get in the way. I deeply respected Christianity, but he was the furthest thing from honest, and his hypocrisy drove his few friends even further away...You still have me...I pushed these thoughts away as I felt tears welling behind my eyes. Tonight was supposed to be about getting away from here.
I decided finally on a tight fitting, yet classy lace black dress. I may have been slightly curvier than my waifish model friends, but I knew how to dress myself. I eyed myself in the mirror until I was satisfied that I looked the perfect mix between sexy and modest. After all, despite my desire to look good for the first time in weeks, I was only going to my aunt and uncle's house for the week. My mom thought it would be good for me to get away where I could breathe and forget about that whole fiasco. After I was content with my makeup, I took one last look before gathering up my jacket and phone. I had small, sparkly greenish eyes, which looked rather tired and dull at the moment. My smooth skin was still a shade lighter than I'd have liked to be, but my petite nose and small, yet full raspberry lips quenched this annoyance. Maybe this visit won't be so bad...
When I arrived on the front steps of my aunt and uncle's country estate, my hair was in wild disarray. I had long, golden curls which had now become a tangle of wild locks and I groaned as I tried to rearrange them so I would look civilized again. My mind flashed on my mother and how disappointed she was in me. You have all this...everything your father and I saved for you, and you still aren't happy. When is anything going to be good enough for you Jenna?
The answer was I had no idea, but the great marble giant that was the home of Auntie Leanne and Uncle Bryan reminded me sharply of all that I really did have going for me. My family had a moderate amount of money, I was young and moderately accomplished for my age. But you don't have a boyfriend. I tried to shake the thought as I entered the bright, elegant house.
Auntie Leanne was cleaning a spilled glass of wine off of her sparkling hardwood, and she squeaked like a little canary when she saw me. She was a tiny woman with frizzy, strawberry blonde hair and she embraced me like a daughter as she led me out onto the back deck.
"Your uncle is still in his study, but I think you'll recognize a few familiar faces in the crowd. I've invited all the family friends who knew you when you were just a little girl. We're all so proud to see you graduate with honors."
"It was high school Auntie...hardly an accomplishment."
"Oh don't be so critical Jenna, your mom thought it was quite the accomplishment too."
"Doubt it," I muttered.
"Anyway sweetie, just go and put your bags in your old bedroom on the East side. Oh, and if you see your uncle, please try to convince him to come down and be social. Some of his friends are here too, should he decide to grace us with his presence."
After stowing my things in the old kid's bedroom I occupied during most of the summers of my childhood, I made my way out onto the exquisite terrace. Uncle Bryan, who had always been my favorite relative, had kissed my cheek and then flatly refused to come down. I was disappointed I had no one to talk to, but I understood why he was hiding. Uncle Bryan and I were not blood related, but he and I shared a strong dislike of social activities.
I looked out onto the crowd, mostly in their thirties, forties, and fifties, and was actually grateful my aunt had neglected to invite any of the children I had grown up with. I wasn't in the mood for explanations as to why I hadn't returned their phone calls, or why I had been such a recluse these last three weeks. The only thing I had to face were the polite smiles of my aunt's friends.
Wandering around on the terrace, I began to get a fierce headache from all the noise and bright light coming from the sea glass fire pit. I spaced out, staring into the flames and dreaming of what I would be doing if Drew were here right now, when I realized I was unknowingly staring at someone.
I blushed to the temples when I realized who it was. Mr. James Bowen was leaning casually against the wall of the house, with a look of polite amusement on his face as he regarded me. Mr. Bowen was the closest friend of my uncle's, and I remembered him well from my childhood. My cheeks burned hotter as the sight of him recalled the somewhat embarrassing crush I'd had on him when I was a little girl. I used to bring him his newspaper on Sunday mornings when he would stay at my uncle's, and look up at his dark, unfathomable eyes, trying to see if I could guess their color. I was about ten, so my attachment to him was due more to his aura of security than anything else. But looking at him now, I could not believe it had been so long since I had last seen him.
His face was definitely aged, but masculine and refined, like an old man's cologne commercial. He was stubbly and dark around the strong jaw, but a smile played mysteriously at his lips. His sharp features could easily have appeared austere, were it not for his casual light brown hair, now peppered with gray, and his relaxed and slow carriage. I looked at his eyes and remembered when I had at last discovered that they were really midnight blue.
"Hi Mr. Bowen," I said timidly.
"Miss Jenna?" he questioned, moving toward me. "My, my, you certainly have grown up. I heard you just graduated high school."
He reached for my hand to shake it but caught it awkwardly as I attempted to reach his, at which point he lifted it gently and kissed it instead. I giggled embarrassedly, but these were the kinds of things I remembered loving about Mr. Bowen. He had a sort of ageless dignity about him which, at 18, made me feel like I was 12 again.
"How have you been Mr. Bowen?"
