Dakota's Story: Dakota steals a Rivonine capsule & it changes her life
This is the eighth chapter of a ten chapter story.
Warning: There is a group sex scene in this episode.
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Brief Summary to Date: Sally Higgins, an outrageous slut her senior year in high school and again her freshman year of college, learns that she has the infamous De Chevalley virus, a nasty virus which attacks the brain. For the first three stages it attacks the parts of the brain related to one's sex drive, and for Stage IV it attacks the autonomic system, which renders it fatal. Sally's only hope is the new experimental drug Rivonine. The side effects of Rivonine, however, accentuate Sally's out of control sex drive even further, and she is desperately trying to keep herself under control. She seems to be losing the battle.
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I had agreed to meet my oldest and still my best friend Dakota at the Starbucks at Astor Place for breakfast. It was not the best choice for a healthy breakfast, but it was good enough. I had been friends with Dakota for so long, it seemed like forever. I guess we met in first grade, when we were both six. Dakota stuck by me during my Sliggins period, when I was a slut of some notoriety my senior year of high school, and also during my freshman year of college.
In high school all I did was blow a ton of high school boys. I never gave any of them an entrance into my sacred passage. Secretly however concurrently I had sex in the Biblical sense with men my father's age, all of whom I met through Mr. Glassman, my parents' neighbor. I now know, and it's quite recent knowledge, that it was this damnable De Chevalley virus that affected my brain and made sexual activity an insatiable need for me.
Neither Dakota nor I, nor anyone, knew at the time that in reality I was sick. Dakota did not care about my outrageous sexual behavior. My parents did not know. High school boys were thrilled with the blowjobs. Sure, they pestered me about having sex with them, and I was tempted for sure, but I knew the consequences would be too high a price to pay. I was already known as the school slut just for the blowjobs. In high school, if you blow enough boys (we're talking serious double digits here) everyone knows and ostracizes you. It was worse, because in our small town in upstate New York, the high school was small. I must have blown at least one quarter of the boys in the senior class.
Dakota stood by me throughout my sexual promiscuity of my senior year. She was the only girl who did. Dakota considered me to be her friend, and she loved me, and that was enough. I could do no wrong. Friends like Dakota don't grow on trees. I consider our friendship to be my greatest treasure.
Dakota, on the other hand, had the lowest sex drive in the entire State, I was sure. We discussed it a lot, just the two of us. She just did not seem interested in boys (or in girls in 'that way'), and boys in turn returned the compliment. Dakota wanted to be interested in boys; she just wasn't.
"You are so sexy, Sally, and you seem to love sex. I wish I could be like you," Dakota would say.
We would discuss it in detail and once I even arranged a date with one of my paramours for Dakota, after she promised she'd give him her first blowjob. She did, too, even if she was not that into it. Dakota is pretty, and back in high school she was considered to be very pretty, but she preferred the life of the mind to the pleasures of the flesh.
Dakota made a mistake with that first guy she blew. Not knowing better, she let the guy get her naked. Even in high school Dakota had the boobs boys' wet dreams are made of. Her lover of the moment got a cell phone picture of Dakota's boobs, and soon half the school had learned of Dakota's blowjob and seen the picture of her spectacular boobs. Dakota became popular seemingly overnight. What a waste that she could have cared less!
She went out with the boy again, and she entered the not very exclusive club of girls who were laid in our high school. I was not in that club, because no high school boy had laid me, and nobody (except Dakota) knew about all of my lovers who were my father's age. Actually, my club, the 'club' of girls who were not laid their senior year, was much smaller than the club of those who were.
"It was fun, but quite frankly, Sally, I don't see what the fuss is about. I know boys crave sex, but for me, I could take it or leave it, you know?" she once said.
"No, not really, I guess I don't know. But also I guess everyone's different. Do what's best for you," I remember replying at the time. Dakota had one more affair, with a different guy, with the same indifferent results. She kind of tabled sex and concentrated on her studies, and now she was in graduate school.
"Thanks for meeting me for breakfast," Dakota said, when we both had our coffees and sweet rolls and were seated at a table.
"Of course. What's up, Dak, you look concerned?" I replied. Sometimes I call her Dak, especially when I'm feeling especially affectionate. Dakota's look of disquietude on her face brought out sympathetic warmth in me, I guess. I don't call her Dak too often though, because she hates it, and then she calls me Sal in revenge.
"It's about sex. I think there's something wrong with me. I should have desire, and I just don't," Dakota said.
"Relax, girl. You'll meet the right man and the desire will magically appear. You'll see," I said.
"No, I don't think so. I've met the right man, you see. He's Drew. You don't know him yet. He's perfect for me, and he's crazy about me, and I'm quite sure that I love him. Yet still, the desire is not there."
"Have you...?" I began to ask.
"Oh yes. We do it all the time. At least daily, and sometimes multiple times in one day. He cannot get enough. And before you ask, I do everything: I blow him, I give him hand jobs, we make love in every position imaginable, and one time I even let him have my, uh, you know," Dakota said as she gestured towards her behind. "He's happy; thrilled even. I fake orgasms and fake moans."
"But no desire?" I said.
"No. None," Dakota said, she paused and added, "There's no repulsion, either. It does feel nice, and I really don't mind having sex, but I just have no desire. I do it to please Drew."
Dakota gestured for me to come closer. She whispered in my ear, "I've never had an orgasm. Not even once. I even bought a vibrator when I was in college. Nothing worked. I'm disconsolate."
Dakota is my only friend who uses words like 'disconsolate' in girl to girl conversation, and at breakfast, yet!
"I wish I were more like you," Dakota added. Tears were forming at the edges of her eyes.
"No, you don't," I said. Dakota looked at me, surprised.
"I'm dying, Dakota. I have six months to live, unless these experimental drugs work," I said, and I showed her a small handful of the bright red capsules Dr. Taylor had given me. "I have a rare brain virus. It's inevitably fatal, unless a miracle occurs and these stupid little red capsules actually work to cure it."
