Page 12 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
“How could I forget? My butt was stained red for days.”
“I miss swing dance club,” he said with a forlorn voice.
“Funny you say that, because our senior year you ditched me for your late-night Friday booty calls, and that was the end of swing dancing for me.”
“Well, I was a dick back then,” he admitted. “If you ever want to go, just ask me.”
“Come on, Henry. You’re too busy on Friday nights to take me swing dancing.”
He used his finger to raise my chin to see him and I saw genuine remorse as he said “Rosie, you know I’m never too busy for you.”
He was my best friend, but he could still make my heart flutter, which was common when I was around him.
Giving him a side-smile, I said, “Thanks, Henry, but I think this blind date might be good for me. Get me out there, and who knows where it might lead.”
“You looking for sex on the first night?” he asked a bit astonished.
“Oh my God, no. I think that would be a huge mistake, especially given my vibrator lodging in my vagina today.” That’s right, I said vagina. “I need to study up a bit before I jump into it with a stranger. The only sex I know of is from books, and they make it seem so easy and wonderful. Is it really like that?”
“Depends,” Henry answered honestly. “You have to be with the right person who knows what they’re doing first. Some guys like to plow into you to get what they want, but a real man will make sure you’re satisfied before he is.”
“Does that come straight from the Henry Playboy Bible?”
“Damn straight,” he said while leaning forward and grabbing the soda we were sharing from the coffee table. “You have to realize that your first time is going to be awkward. You won’t know where to put your hands or what to do when the sock that he’s trying to take off just won’t let up so you wait for him to take it off while you lie there naked.” He handed me the soda and I finished it, handing it back to him to set on the coffee table. “It’s going to hurt, Rosie. I won’t lie about that, and you’re going to bleed.”
“Wow, sounds like a pleasurable experience, I can’t believe I waited this long to participate.”
I knew sex wasn’t going to be great right off the bat but now, thanks to Henry, I was really dreading it. What the hell was I supposed to tell the person who finally took my virginity? Sorry for the bloody mess, but did I forget to tell you I was a virgin? The whole process seemed overwhelming.
“Maybe I should wait until I’m in a serious relationship,” I thought out loud. “It seems like if I’m with someone, actually dating them, they would be more sensitive to my condition.”
“It’s not like you’re diseased or anything.” Henry laughed. “You’re a virgin, not a leper. Any guy with a right mind would respect the fact that you’ve saved yourself and would treat you with respect.”
“You really think so?”
“Yes, you just have to find the right guy first.”
“So you think one-night stands are out of the question right now?”
He cringed as he thought about my question. “Do I want you to be a virgin forever now that I know you are? Well, yes, because that means you’re still innocent, untouched, my sweet Rosie. But if you must go to the dirty side”—he flashed me a grin—“then I would prefer for you to be in a relationship.”
“And when did you become my dad?” I teased.
“Not your dad. Just an over protective and concerned best friend.” He ran his hand through his hair and said, “I don’t know, Rosie. Ever since Delaney said you were a virgin, I haven’t stopped thinking about how innocent you really are, and it’s pulled at my heart. I love you the way you are, and I don’t want you to change. I don’t want some dickhead coming in here and corrupting you. Who you are now is perfect.” It was cute how distraught he was. He gripped my chin and spoke earnestly . . . and my pulse picked up from his proximity. Why did he have to smell so good? “You’re just so damn perfect.” He was wrong, of course. If I were perfect, if I were as amazing as he thought I was, surely I wouldn't still be a virgin. I wouldn't be the only one in this apartment who was looked at with pity.Just like now.
Taking a steady breath, I said, “Thank you, Henry, but a part of me doesn’t like who I am. You and Delaney have these great jobs, and I’m stuck dodging hairballs and feral cats every day at work, wondering if I’m going to get sprayed and claimed by Sir Licks-a-Lot or not. Ever since I can remember, I’ve been writing stories, and now that I’m out of college and have a chance to make something of myself, I’m not doing it. I want to write this book, finish it, and be proud of myself, but I’m kind of stuck when it comes to the whole sex part.”
“Then why do you have to have sex in the book? It’s not a requirement.”
“No, it’s not, but when I read a book without sex, I feel like I’m missing that connection between the characters. Call me a pervert but I think sex in a book is not only about getting all hot steamy. It’s about seeing the characters form this bond that is undeniable. Sometimes it’s just about the buildup. The tension. The building excitement, you know?”
“I do and believe me, the last thing I would call you is a pervert. Why don’t you try reading some of the new contemporary books I added to your Kindle rather than the stale ones your mom sent your way?”
“I’ll start one tonight, but I still feel like I need to know what an orgasm feels like. What a penis looks like in real life, to really do my books justice. Writing from experience is always so much easier.”
“You haven’t even seen a real-life dick?” He was genuinely perplexed by me.
Blushing, I shook my head. “Nope. I’ve only seen,” I cleared my throat and said, “ones on the internet.”
