A Slight Diversion

At this point I have to admit to a certain ambivalence. I had fantasized about making love to Aida more than once, but I chickened out long before she could say 'yes.' At that point the memories of my first - and only - experience with sexual intimacy messed things up. Now she had unmistakably said 'yes.'

Back in college, my roommate had talked me into rushing at one of the frat houses with him. I wasn't all that interested, but I figured it couldn't hurt to support my roomie.

Big mistake.

The guys in this frat seemed to think that the ingestion of vast quantities of alcohol was essential to the vetting process. I was young and naive and had never gotten really drunk before. As the evening progressed, the spiked whatever-it-was that I was drinking got me pretty well soused. That's when it was announced any virgin seeking to be a candidate for the glorious traditions of the fraternity must prove themselves by finding a bedroom and fucking whoever was in it.

We were dragged up the stairs and I was pushed into a room and the door closed behind me with a thud. There I found the first naked woman I had ever seen - if you don't count brief glimpses of my sisters when they thought they could make it from the bathroom to the bedroom fast enough to leave the towel behind.

I have often wondered what kind of girl would be willing to strip the clothes from a drunken college boy so quickly that he didn't realize what was happening, and then pull him into bed with her. Of course, these thoughts occurred at a much later date. In bed with her I was aware that I was supposed to fuck her, but just how did one go about such an activity?

Her hands soon found my manhood and she was urging me to 'get it up, big boy!' I knew this was possible as I had done so countless times in my isolation, but with all the booze in my bod the message hardly got through. Finally she seemed satisfied that she had gotten my attention sufficiently to proceed, but realizing I was too drunk to keep my balance on top of her she lay me face up on the bed and seated herself. I assume this was aided by the fact that I was not the first visitor to the bedroom that evening.

I was too drunk to do anything about it, and I mean anything. I emerged from that room still a virgin if you consider the loss of virginity to be having an orgasm while within the vagina of a woman.

I hadn't had the nerve to attempt it again before meeting Aida.

The Morning After

Have you ever watched an old-fashioned steam locomotive starting up, where it slowly chugs along, gaining speed until it starts flying? Better yet - Have you ever watched one of those old movies where some cinematographer tries to create an ambiance by starting with the film going painfully slow, the audio nothing but a low-frequency, indecipherable growl, then the action slowly speeds up until it starts to make sense?

That's what Saturday morning felt like.

The first thought on waking was there was just too much light in the room. I had invested in heavy shades and curtains for my apartment because I like to sleep in the dark.

It wasn't dark.

My unknown cinematographer pressed a button or twisted a rheostat and reality cranked up one notch. I realized I was not in my own bed. Further, I wasn't in the bed at my parent's house. Nor was I in a hotel room - hotel rooms don't smell like the room I was in.

Another tweak to reality and I realized I was not alone in the bed, which further led to the realization my hand was resting on something soft and round and warm. And breathing. Definitely breathing.

Click again. I was holding a breast. The breast was covered with some slippery-slidy fabric. Like a nightgown? I cracked one eye against the light. Yup - a nightgown. A red nightgown. With black lace trim. Thin enough to reveal a pair of black panties under the sheer fabric.

Another click. The arm - I suppose it was my arm - holding the breast was covered in sheer black fabric. With red lace trim. Color co-ordinated? Apparently. Opening the other eye I found that I was indeed wearing a black nightgown over red panties.

Clickity-clackity-boing! Aida and I made love. Remember how I commented on her air of confidence. She quickly realized I lacked the relevant experience, so she gently guided me to where it most pleasured her and she returned the favor.

We made love, an experience about as far from the attempted fucking-on-orders in that misbegotten frat-house as any I could imagine. An indescribable explosion of sensation.

Aida was a confident women, one so confident that she was willing to make me confident despite my inexperience. The wrong person could have destroyed me completely with only a few words, instead she brought me up to her level with encouragement. By the time we were done I no longer feared making a fool out of myself with a woman.

Later, a happy, slippery, very crowded shower. Laughing as she offered her girlfriend-first-class one of her nightgowns. More laughter as we cuddled until we slept.

Reality was back, and very welcome. I kissed her gently and her eyelids fluttered.

"You're still here," she murmured."

"So are you."

"And it wasn't a dream?"

"Should I pinch you to see?"

"Try a kiss instead."

I did so.

"Still here, the both of us," I said.

"This is a little embarrassing…"

"You're really not the kind of girl who jumps in bed with just anyone?"

"No. I've got to pee. Bad"

"Be my guest."

I removed my hand from her breast and she ran for the bathroom. She didn't close the door so I heard her personal waterfall. I don't think she was kidding.

I was sitting cross-legged on the bed when she returned from the bathroom holding a big, fluffy towel. She pulled over a chair, smiled at me and tossed it on the night table and saying "Jeez - I suppose you're going to tell me you do yoga or Tai-chi or are a martial arts master in your spare time."

"Sorry - the closest I come to Tai-chi is the occasional cup of Chai tea."

She stuck her tongue out at me. She was very cute when she did that and I couldn't help but notice her breasts shimmy beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown.

"You look very cute in my nightie. It even fits you."

"Is this the uniform that comes with my promotion to girlfriend-first-class?"

"I'm not sure. It's pretty much useless as camouflage."

"Lightweight - perfect for duty on a tropical island."

"No, that would be your bikini, sailor."

"Could be dangerous. If you tried a snappy salute you would probably fall out of your halter. Not something I'd have to worry about in a bikini."

"Your problem would be lower down."

"So it would."

"I bet a woody would be embarrassing in a bikini."

"I wouldn't doubt for a minute. Funny though, I've never had that problem. I know plenty of guys that boast about getting hard when they see a sexy woman, but it doesn't work that way with me."

"It doesn't?"

"Not that I haven't speculated on what would happen if I ended up in bed with a good looking woman, but spontaneous erections - nope."

"And did you speculate about me?"

"Sure thing. A pleasant experience but reality beats it all hollow."

"I wondered. You certainly were polite about it."

"Fantasies are fun, but I wouldn't force them on anyone unasked. Women deserve to be treated with respect, even if you have lust in your heart. No, make that people deserve to be treated with respect no matter what sex, it's only that so many men treat women as inferior that we need to keep specifying woman."

"For a guy, you make one hell of a girlfriend."

"I'll let you in on a secret. You know all those psychological tests you take in college?"

"Sure. They can be fun. Did you answer them truthfully or try to screw up their data?"

"Actually, I tried to be truthful. Want to know what the most consistent result was across the board?"

"Of course."

"Gender perception. I fall smack-dab in the middle between male and female. And not just on one test, on all of 'em."

"No wonder I felt comfortable talking to you like a girlfriend, yet you were certainly man enough when it comes to lovemaking."

"It may sound silly, but I wonder if it's really about male versus female. I suspect I may even be bi, but I've never had an opportunity to find out. I think I could enjoy sex with the right man as much as sex with the right woman. As long as I care for my partner and my partner cares about me then the physical plumbing is not all that relevant."

"You have got to be one of the most interesting and complex men I have ever known. What would you do if I handed you a bra when we finally get around to getting dressed?"

"With nothing to put in the cups it wouldn't do much good, would it?"

"Details! There are a dozen places in town that have breast forms.

"Breast forms?"

"Sure. I'm a pharmacist, remember? I've lost count of the women who have asked if there was a pill they could take to get their boobs to grow. I have to tell them that they'd be better off with prosthetics. Then I usually have to explain what a prosthetic is."

"Didn't they get vocabulary quizzes in school?"

"Honey, some of them don't even know the words penis and vagina. I've heard all kinds of euphemisms."

"You're kidding?"

"Nope. At least the penis enlargement scams that flood my mailbox use the word straight out."

"Doesn't it have to be straight out to use it?"

"It can be cocked at an angle and still do the job."

"So, is bigger better? Quantity over quality."

"I think we've laid that nonsense to rest, haven't we?"

"I think so, but convincing people like he-who-will-not-be-named might take a bit of effort."

"Welcome to American cultural norms."

"I don't think it’s just American. I've seen those e-mails in Spanish and one of my Asian co-workers tells me she gets them in three different dialects of Chinese."

"So I'm not the only one!"

"Those e-mails are sent out by the tens of thousands."

"Not the e-mails, girlfriend - the girlfriend part. You actually have women who are comfortable with talking about penises with you because they know you aren't the type to take it as a come-on."

"I never thought of it that way."

She grabbed the towel and wrapped it turban-style around her head. She spoke in an atrocious Eastern European accent that was a phony as it was cute.

"Madame Zelda knows all and sees all. Tell me, seeker of enlightenment. Who did you sit with around the lunch table at college? Boys, girls, zebras? Madame Zelda says it was both."

"Wrong. All three - one of the girls had black-and-white stripes in her hair."

"Ah, proof of Madame Zelda's infallibility."

"A lucky guess."

"Keep it up and you won't get lucky again, sucker," she said in a low growl.

"My apologies, Madame Zelda."

"Better. When you got the infamous talk as a teenager it was from both your parents, is that not so?"

"You're batting one thousand."

"Ah! A sports reference. Tell me - your coworker who talked about penises. What was she wearing that day?"

"A calf-length Chong-sam in royal blue with gold embroidery. Cap sleeves, collar-type neckline and slit to mid thigh. She was going to see a customer who had a thing for traditional dress."

"Jewelry?"

"Earrings - rubies on a gold chain, her wedding ring and no necklace. Wouldn't work with that collar."

"Hair?"

"Sort of parted in front but not all the way back and swept back into a - I'm not sure what the name is but almost like a bun."

"Do you have any idea how many men in this world could use a sports metaphor and then go on to give a detailed description of how a woman was dressed several weeks ago?"

"Do you have any idea how much a boy with two older sisters learns about that stuff? Seriously, I must have been dragged along on shopping expeditions as many times as your average teenage girl ever was. I learned that there is no safe answer to the question 'Does this dress make my butt look big?' I learned to differentiate between Sky blue, Teal, Cerulean, Aegean blue, Sapphire and Arctic blue without a color chart. I've witnessed firsthand just what a push-up bra can do for a modestly endowed girl. I am even modestly skilled in applying nail polish to my sister's feet.

"My god! Where have you been hiding all my life?"

"I thought Madame Zelda knew all and saw all. Why not ask her?"

"Madame Zelda is asking her girlfriend - the one sitting there wearing her panties and nightgown."

"Neither her girlfriend nor her boyfriend has any idea."

"Damn! A man who can admit he doesn't know all the answers."

"That's Madame Zelda's job. I wouldn't want to get her fired."

"Madame Zelda is going to retire secure in the knowledge that by staying out of the bars and striking up a conversation with a guy who didn't immediately give her the hots she may have found a boyfriend and a girlfriend as well as a thoughtful lover."

She unwound the towel from her head, folded it in half and placed it on the bed. She placed herself on top of the towel and smiled.

"Want to get lucky?"

A Profound Question

Why did modern civilization go to all the effort to invent answering machines and voice mail if certain persons refuse to use them? It used to be that voice mail was only used when you weren't home to answer the phone, but with the ubiquity of cell phones you can be interrupted and distracted 24/7 no matter where on the globe you happen to be.

Voice mail is handy if you don't recognize the calling number, thus filtering out many of the spam calls that want to remind us our vehicle warranty needs attention. So far I haven't gotten any robocalls offering to enlarge my penis, but I suppose it's only a matter of time.

I will only observe that at the time Aida's phone rang my penis had done a fine job of enlarging on it's own or - shall we say - with some encouragement from Aida? In any case, her phone started singing Bad Child from somebody called Tones and I. Never heard of the song or the group, but it stopped Aida in mid…

Let's not get into too much detail here, suffice it to say that my mouth was otherwise engaged at the time and her mouth was only being periodically used to make wordless comments. Now, isn't the whole idea of voice mail to allow you to proceed undistracted if you are involved in something important when the phone rings?

Apparently not. She reached over and turned on the speakerphone function.

"Hello… Mother…"

Mother? I'm practically drowning down here and she's talking to her mother?!

"You sound like you're dying or something. What's going on down there?"

"Well, I am hoping to experience what the French call the little death, but I wouldn't worry about it."

"You're dying and I shouldn't worry? What's wrong with you?"

"Not a thing, Mother. In fact, I'm quite exhilarated at the moment. Uh!"

I put my recently gained tutelage to good use and flipped my tongue over a particularly sensitive place. That was the 'Uh!'

"Aida Marie, you are not making any sense!"

"Mother, you have never been able to understand why I do what I do, so don't try to start now. You… Uh!… must have called for a reason."

"Of course I did. I have to know if you are bringing your fiancé to the Anniversary party. You haven't given me an answer, darling."

"Uh! I don't have a… Uh!… Yes! I am damned well bringing my fiancée to the party, Mother."

"You certainly are distracted, Aida. I'm sure you mean your fiancé, darling."

"I meant what I said. I'm bringing my fiancée… Uh!… Her name is Lauren Cooke. Cooke with an 'e'."

"You wouldn't!"

"I damned well will! Oh god! I can't talk any more, Mother. Goodbye."

She reached over to the phone but missed, sending it spinning to the floor.

"Oh yes!" she shouted. "Yes! Yes!! YESSSSS!!!!"

I wondered what her mother thought of that. Obviously if she birthed Aida she must have had sex at least once, although I had to wonder about the man who found such a bitch attractive enough to bed her.

I guess it takes all kinds.

Reality Creeps In

Some time later - we were surprised that it was still before eleven in the morning - we showered and cleaned up. Since the bathroom in her studio apartment was really only comfortable with one person in the shower, I sat on the pot and amused myself watching her foggy outline through the glass door of the shower. My mind drifted, running around in circles like a demented chipmunk.

Naturally I replayed our time together, hitting instant replay a time or two in order to more closely examine what we were doing in detail, committing such things to memory for later use. If it worked once it should work again.

Eventually I ran out of the memory tape, but came to a screeching halt just before her impromptu performance for her Mother's edification.

…My fiancée. Uh! Her name is Lauren Cooke. With an 'e'…

What the hell?!

"Aida?" I called.

"Can't hear you over the shower."

I opened the door, getting a face-full of steam.

"Did you just tell your mother you were bringing your fiancée to the wedding?"

"Did I? I was pissed and about this far from orgasm. It was a lovely orgasm, by the way, darling."

"I hope your mother appreciated it as much as I did."

"Heh-heh-heh! I didn't mean to let her hear, but it was so lovely I don't mind sharing it. It's cold with the door open. We can talk when you get cleaned off."

"Sure."

I closed the door.

…fiancée…