Hey
So I wasn't going to post this originally, and I'm sure there's some who would prefer me to post updates rather than a new story, but this just sort of came to me and I couldn't help it. I just kept getting ideas for it, and had to right it down. Its sort of like a companion to What You Need, even though What You need isn't finished yet, but they share some characters etc etc. Enjoy! And please review!
Chapter 1
"Okay. Next question."
I rolled my eyes and stubbed my cigarette out in the ash-tray my best friend, Anna Ray, had placed pointly infront of me when I'd arrived. We were sitting on the floor of her new villa-house, surrounded by burgundy cushions and bottles of wine. In the background, the lazy vocals of Norah Jones drifting in dim candle-light.
"Fine," I said, pushing the ash-tray away and taking a sip of lemonade. "Shoot."
She narrowed her eyes at me, suspicious of my agreement, but she didn't question me. She glanced down at the Dolla magazine in her hand.
"Best kiss?"
I grimaced. There wasn't much of a choice there. Unless you counted drowning in your Top 5. Or alcohol induced face eating. Or cheating ex-boyfriends who'd found they liked their dick licked by strippers rather than their girlfriend.
"They've all been pretty awful," I said finally. Not even exaggerating. From day 1 of my kissing experiences, (behind the school labs, 15 years old), every single kiss had ranged from awful to mediocre. I'd hesitate to call any of them my 'best'.
Anna glanced up from the magazine in surprise.
"Surely they haven't been all bad."
I raised an eyebrow her and she frowned at me.
"Are you sure you're not just expecting too much?"
I don't know. Was I? Was it really to much to ask that I not drown on my first date? Because that was what Greg had felt like. My mouth had filled with saliva the moment he'd shoved his tongue down my throat.
"Maybe," I replied impassively and lit another cigarette. I didn't usually smoke, but I was on a drinking sabbatical, and I had to have something.
Her frown shifted to my cigarette. "Those things will kill you, you know."
I took a drag and nodded at the wine-glass, brimming with sparkling ruby liquid, that she dangled delicately between two fingers.
"So will that."
She just rolled her eyes, and looked back at the magazine.
"Okay, question 7. What do you look for in a guy?"
"Smart." I said instantly. "Not a pot-head."
Anna grinned, "Anything else?"
Was there anything else? I wasn't the sort to chase after 'hunks' or 'studs'. Greg had been a hunk. Jock-handsome, with chiselled features and wavy blonde hair. And after him, I was more impressed by university degrees than big penises. Atleast a university degree couldn't end up in another woman's mouth. Still, I didn't go for hideous either. I do have standards. Usually.
"I guess it wouldn't hurt for them to be easy on the eye," I said finally, thinking of Layne Heart, Anna's long term boyfriend. He was hot, and Anna didn't seem to mind in the least.
"Oh come on, Lyssa, spill. What really turns you on?" Anna sat forward, waiting almost breathlessly. Girl-talk was something I'd never willingly participate in, so I suppose for her, this conversation was a big deal. And her only chance for atleast another few months.
I know that Anna thought the only reason I avoided talking about boys was because I shy. But she was totally wrong. Shy wasn't even the start of my problems. I just didn't know. I don't know what I found attractive because I'd never been attracted to anyone before, not fully. And I didn't know what turned me on because none of my flings had managed that. Or if they did, I was so off my face on something I didn't even remember it. And I didn't have some sort of pre-arranged lover that would one-day pop out of my head onto the side-walk and be my 'perfect match'. I hadn't dreamt of my wedding as a kid. Or fantasized about Mr Perfect in science class like Anna and her friends.
I used to think something was wrong with me in high school, since I'd never chased after the jocks like the rest of the girls had. I'd never sighed over Orlando Bloom or Chad Michael Murray, and I had never, ever, declared myself hopelessly in love with someone.
Which is exactly why I answered "I don't know" to Question number 7 of Find-Your-Perfect-Match Dolla quiz.
"You don't know?" Anna asked me incredulously. "How can you not know?"
I shrugged and took a long drag of my cigarette.
"Isn't there something, like, hair colour, or eye colour? Or something?" she persisted, as if it were the most horrific thing in the world not to know. I shrugged again, and took another, long, drag.
Then her eyes widened, and realisation hit her. "Lyssa Brensel, please tell me you've had sex before."
I glared at her. "What do you think?"
"Well, I always…I dunno, just assumed…with Greg, you know."
"Greg?"
She frowned, "You guys did date for almost 6 months."
I shuddered. "Please, don't remind me. Even if he hadn't cheated on me, I don't think I ever would have…well, you know."
"So you've never had sex?"
I looked away uncomfortably. This wasn't a topic I had wanted to get in to. Or ever talk about. "I didn't say that," I said quietly.
"Then with who?"
"I don't remember." I admitted finally. And what I do remember still gives me nightmares, I added to myself silently.
"You lost your virginity and you don't even remember who to?"
I shrugged, and pretended to lose interest in the topic. "Come on, next question."
"Oh no. You're not getting off that easily. Atleast tell me when."
I sighed heavily, what could it hurt anyway? I hadn't even known Anna then. "I was 16. At a party," I told her.
Anna's eyes widened incredulously. "And you've never…since then?"
"It wasn't exactly the best experience of my life."
She waved her hand dismissively, "it's the same for everyone. It hurts a little, but still. Most people try it atleast once more before going spinster."
I thought of that night. The darkness. The flash of auburn hair. The bruising. The blood. The laughter. No, I was sure Anna, atleast, didn't experience that her first time. But I had been telling the truth when I said I didn't remember. I honestly didn't. Only little bits of pieces that still haunted me. I knew what had happened to me, but I don't remember it happening.
"Well, I didn't," I told her snappishly, and she, sensing my mood finally, let the subject drop.
She picked up the magazine again, and glanced over the questions. "Well, the rest are kind of pointless now. Favourite position. Favourite flavoured condom. It's all sex."
I winced a little, and hoped she didn't notice. I'd never been comfortable talking about sex. Or listening to other people talk about it. Or thinking about it. So what I was 24? I knew I wasn't ready. And if hot-ass teenage girls wanted to test the waters at 14 then fine by me. I'd had enough already. And it wasn't like I hadn't tried. I'd tried the kissing. I'd even gone further than kissing numerous times. Adult men didn't settle for just kissing, not unless they really liked you. And I doubted any of the guys I'd dated ever felt any kind of affection for me that would have let them understand. Or care.
Anna threw the magazine carelessly across the room, and took a long sip of her wine. Almost out of habit, she checked the clock. I knew she was waiting for Layne to come home. It was as if she timed her life off Laynes coming and goings. At times, I was jealous, if only because I knew that it meant Anna no longer needed me. Not as much as I needed her. But I was happy for them, really. Happy she'd found someone like him, and that they just worked.
Nevertheless, her checking the time was my cue to leave.
"It's getting late Anna, I should go." I got up so she didn't try and convince me to stay, and pressed out the creases in my long, patterned skirt.
"You don't have to leave Lyssa," she pouted. But her eyes moved to the clock again, and I sighed.
"It's a big day tomorrow," I said cheerfully, "school excursion you know."
Anna shuddered delicately; she had never been a fan of kids. Though I knew Layne was. And I had noticed the speculation in his eyes whenever he looked at Anna. I wondered if some magnificent blow-ups would be due soon.
"I won't keep you then." Anna stood up. "Though I know Layne would have liked to see you."
Yeah, sure he would, I thought, looking into Anna's sea-green eyes. In her pyjamas, she looked sexily tussled, and I was sure Layne would like me even more if I let him have Anna alone for the next few hours.
"Tell him hi for me," I said, moving to the door. I don't do hugs. Or cuddles. Or goodbyes. Or don't do them well, anyway. My family had never been affectionate, and even Anna hadn't managed to break me out of that habit.
"Sure I will. See you sometime then."
"Yeah, sure."
I opened the door and stepped outside into the rain.
I was pulling on my heavy cloak I'd left on the doorstep when I saw Layne. He didn't see me at first, and was fiddling with his over-coat, struggling to pull it around his head before he got to soaked that Anna would make him change before he ravaged her on the floor.
As he made his way towards the front door I studied him closely, seeing the ruffled blonde hair and friendly face. A little lined around the edges, but they were laughing lines, and comforting. He looked contented and happy. Even after almost 5 years of dating, he still looked forward to coming home every night, just to see Anna.
I smiled at him a little wistfully. "Hey Layne."
He looked surprised when he saw me, "Lyssa, leaving already?"
"Yeah, got work tomorrow. Anna's waiting for you inside." I grinned as I said this, and he returned it easily, happily.
"Have a nice night, then," he said, and walked past me into the house.
I watched the front door close behind him, heard Anna's squeal of laughter, followed by his own deep chuckle, and smiled again, and, still smiling, stepped out into the night and began the long walk home.
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