Vulnerable

This is what I want.

The bed is right there. She is sitting on the edge, waiting. Her legs spread just enough for him to know what it is she wants. She is wearing a black silk robe, tied loosely around her hips, revealing enough to assure him that this was what she wanted to do.

I do too! I do. I want this.

Soft pink lips parted slightly. Eyes focused only on him, traveling up and down his body. Her hands touching her hair, making sure every strand is as it should be. She spent so much time getting ready for this. What is he waiting for?

What am I waiting for? Just do it! I want to. I do.

She reached out a hand to grab his and pulls him forward. Wrapping her legs about his waist, she makes him bend down and greet her lips with his own. The kiss isn't what he expected. It is rushed, hungry. Not what it should be.

Stop fighting it. Just go with her. I want to do this.

She pulls away from him and moves farther up the bed, her head now resting on a pillow. He follows her, as he should, and lies down beside her. She doesn't wait, but climbs on top of him, her legs hugging either side of his hips. She presses down and kisses his lips once more.

This doesn't feel right.

He kisses her back, his hands tracing her back and playing with her hair. He hopes he is doing this right. Everything she does seems rushed. Needed, not wanted. This makes him uncomfortable. She is doing everything right, though. He knows this is what is supposed to happen, but it still doesn't feel right.

Why doesn't this feel right? What is wrong with me?

He pushes her off and turns over so he is on top now. Maybe this will help. He puts a hand on her cheek and kisses her waiting lips. Her body arches up to meet his and she takes his hand and slips it under her shirt, guiding it to where she wants it to be. He circles her nipple with his thumb, softly, but she wants it harder. This she keeps saying so.

What does she want me to do?

She stops him long enough to pull his shirt over his head and toss it on the ground. Doing the same to her own, she captures his lips again. Her hands are running through his hair, then on his back. Her feet are shifting on the bed, and rubbing his. He kisses her neck, her shoulders, her chest. Exactly where she whispers for him to go, but he still doesn't feel right.

I can't stop holding back. I thought I wanted this.

She takes his hand again and this time guides it down her stomach and under the elastic band of her skirt. His fingers trace the lining of her underwear before it is past that and touching her skin. She pushes his index finger into herself and then pulls her own hand back out and onto his neck. He wants to pull away, but he knows he can't do that now.

I don't want this. I want to get out. What do I want?

Confused now, he ignores her moans and tries to figure out what is wrong. This is everything he thought it would be. He is doing everything he pictured you were supposed to do, but it doesn't seem right to him. Something is missing.

What? What is it?

He takes back his hand and rolls off of her. She takes this opportunity to get back on top. She kisses his lips, then his neck, then down the center of his chest and his stomach. His breathing gets rapid and he thinks maybe this was what he wanted, but he knows this is false hope. He has always been ticklish. Just as she unbuttons his pants and starts to pull them down he jumps up and out of the bed. Pulling his pants up, grabs his shirt and pulls it over his head, panic rising up his throat.

"What is it? I thought you wanted to do this." She asks.

So did I.

"I – I just can't." He says, turning away and heading for the door.

Can't? No, won't. And don't. I won't do this, because I don't want it.

He looks back once before opening the door, but looks away just as quickly. He knew what he would find on her face. Disappointment. Confusion. The same things he was feeling right now.

What was I supposed to do? I couldn't just go through with that and then regret it later.

He walks in the dark back to his room, thankful no one else is awake to see him leave her room so soon.

Could I?

He wasn't so lucky in his room, though.

"So, how'd it go?" His friend asks from his bed in the corner of the dark room.

He sighs, "I didn't do it."

"What? Why not?" The voice demands, that same emotion coming back again, disappointment.

Yeah, why not?

"I just couldn't, okay? I don't want to talk about it." He answers, taking off his shirt and pants and climbing into his own bed.

"Okay, we don't have to talk about it then." His friend says.

I have to talk about it sometime. I have to admit it sometime.

"Thanks." He replies, and then turns to face the wall. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing every thought to just disappear.

Even if it is just to myself.

Every thought doesn't disappear. He lies there and every thought he had in the past half hour, every feeling, comes flying back to him. This isn't something he can run from. This isn't something he can hide. Especially not from himself.

I think I'm…gay.

There, he said it. Well, thought it.

Now he feels even more ashamed. Admitting it was like taking a step forward and now he couldn't go back.

What am I supposed to do now?

He felt…vulnerable. This was not what he had hoped to feel. This night was not supposed to end like this. He was supposed to be with her still. That wasn't what he wanted, though. No, what he wanted was something he couldn't let anyone find out about.

NO one. No one can find out. Ever!