There’s an old saying about silence. Something along the lines of “the silence was deafening,” and right now we were both in the middle of it. I swear I could hear the blood rushing through my ears, and with the exception of the birds right outside the window screaming protests at each other as they fed, no other sound was in the room.
Beth slowly bent over and placing her face in her hands, began to cry. I remained silent for awhile, then went around the counter, poured two cups of coffee and retrieved the creamer that Beth insisted on using. Two spoons of sugar, the creamer, a quick stir and I headed back to the table where she was sitting sideways, still sobbing, but a bit less than a moment before. I put the cup on the table, and she turned in her chair to face it and me at the same time. She looked up with a “what now” expression I’d never seen on her, and now I felt bad. Bad about what she’d set me up for, bad about my going along with it, and most of all, bad about not knowing what to say to make this go away.
“I feel dirty,” she said in a low voice.
I continued to stare at her, but said nothing right away. Dirty? I’m wondering why she’d say that, and came up with several possibilities, but none of them made any sense to me, and now I was doing something I hated. Trying to come up with why someone would say something when all I needed to do was ask the person who said it and quit putting my thoughts into their words. So I sat for a moment longer then asked the question.
“Why dirty?”
“Because I do, I know what I did, I know what I set out to do, and I really thought you’d never know. Now that you do, I feel like a whore… and a cheap whore at that. Ya know?”
“No, I really don’t. I don’t know what got this going. I know what happened, I was there, but I guess I’d like a few things explained to me if you don’t mind.”
“Like what? Jesus Christ dad, I fucked you, what else is there to say?”
“Go back to the beginning Beth. Was it the talk around the table that night you girls went out, and it got out of hand? Is that what really got this going?” I asked.
“There wasn’t any discussion ‘with the girls’ about you. That never happened.” She replied.
“What?” I’m a little stunned now.
“I made it up. I made all of it up dad. I have been thinking about this since last August. Remember that day by the pool when you fell asleep and got a little sunburned?” She’s looking at me now.
“Yeah, I guess. We’d had a few beers, the sun warmed me and I fell asleep in the chaise, so what did that do?” I asked.
“I came into the house for a shower and got dressed, then decided to do the dishes. When I got them done, I came back out and you were sleeping. Well, most of you were sleeping, but your dick wasn’t. I was stunned I suppose, you had a hard on that was difficult not to notice. I stood there staring at you and came back in the house to let you sleep. Then I turned on the TV and sat there, I couldn’t concentrate, all I could think about was you. I actually got wet thinking about it.”
Beth paused and glanced at me quickly. I said nothing and her head went back down as she picked up the spoon and idly stirred her coffee.
“And…?” I urged.
“Well over the next couple of months I thought about it. God dad, I masturbated about it. Like I told you it’s a dating bitch out there. I finally got to the point where I wanted to, and then over the next couple of months, I put the story together. I knew how you’d feel about it, geez, you and mom raised me, and I know how you think, I certainly know your moral values. But I couldn’t let it go. I guess it became an obsession with me, so Christmas night the wine gave me enough courage to bring it up, and the next day when I finally got you to talk about it, it came together. Did you notice anything when we talked?” She asked.
“No, I spent most of my time looking at the table I guess.” I said as I remembered the discussion.
“I was a nervous wreck dad.” Beth said. “I actually masturbated two times that day to calm my nerves.”
“What?” I asked.
“Back in your bedroom’s bathroom. I did it twice. I got so worked up thinking about you and me I couldn’t help myself, and I’m sure that reinforced my determination to go through with it.”
Another pause in the conversation, both of us lost in our thoughts.
“Let me ask you something,” Beth began. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to go with a guy and you know all he wants to do is fuck you and worry about the ‘after’, when he’s gotten what he set out to get?”
I shook my head.
“It sucks! You go out, maybe dancing or to a movie, maybe even have dinner, and then you go to his place, or he comes to yours and the romance starts. You fiddle around, and finally end up going to bed. The getting undressed isn’t too bad, in fact sometimes that can be a fun thing, but the reality is that just as you’re about to really get down to business he has to stop, unwrap a condom, fumble to get it on, and then go on with what you were doing. If that wasn’t enough to break the mood, then you start to wonder if he got it on tight, but not too tight. Is it going to hold; did I take my pill this morning? I mean shit dad, you’re so busy worrying about that damn condom you forget what you’re in there for in the first place. Now there are two things about a condom, it’s safe mostly, but it’s a royal pain in the ass to deal with. I hate the feeling of one sliding in and out of me, and even while it’s doing that I wonder if it’s going to do its job. I hate the whole concept. I mean, I really hate it.”
“Then the bad part happens,” she continued. “He’s gotten what he wanted, and he is desperate to get the hell away from you. No cuddling, which I love, no more kisses, and most of the time the guy will get up, go to the bathroom to get rid of the condom and more often than not he doesn’t even come back to bed. He starts getting dressed if it’s you place, or puts on a robe and sits on the bed if it’s his, but the message is pretty clear. Time to go and oh yeah, thanks a lot. That’s the part Tiff got dead on the money, and the other two of us that are single agreed wholeheartedly” She paused, sipped her coffee and as she put the cup down, began to talk again.
“So I’m thinking after seeing you that day, why not? Why shouldn’t I get laid from someone I know is clean, who won’t wear a condom, and who needs to get laid as badly as I do? Who could I trust in this world more than you?” She finished and again picked up her cup.
She’s looking at me now with a questioning look on her face, and I’m still lost for words. What do you say? What could I possibly say that would reassure her? I’m afraid if I said anything at this point it would be taken out of context at the worst, and be way off the mark at its best.
“What about the other girls, they really don’t know anything about this?” I hated to go back to that subject, but I was very concerned about their knowledge of what had happened last night.
“Like I said, Tiff brought it up and we all talked about it, but the thing where Nancy asked about you, that was another time and she and I were alone. No one else heard that part.” Beth said unthinkingly.
“So it was Nancy that would, how did you say? Oh yeah, that she’d ‘do it in a heartbeat’
Beth suddenly looked at me shocked. She realized that during the original conversation she wouldn’t reveal who’d said that.
