It’s always best to start at the beginning.

April 7, 2011 at 5:54 pm (Sex) (, )

I was a very late bloomer.

I wouldn’t say she took advantage of my innocence, but I definitely had a lot of it. To be 19 years old and never been kissed, let alone touched, was on the rare side even then. I didn’t expect anything to happen. I wasn’t even hoping or wishing for something to happen. I didn’t know anything could happen.

I had so little understanding of myself as a sexual being. I didn’t even masturbate until I was 18. I still wore the plain white underwear my mother bought me; the appeal of wearing pretty lingerie hadn’t occurred to me. No one had ever expressed any interest in me in a physical way, and I never thought that anybody would. I didn’t think sex applied to me; I wasn’t troubled by that thought, either. I was pretty simple back then.

She was the first person in my short life to actively pursue my company. I’d always had a difficult time making friends, so it was completely novel for me, what she was doing – showing up in the places where she’d knew I’d be, hunting me down in between classes at the university. Soon she was inviting me over to her house, which was also different and exciting – she lived with her gay father and his partner in a huge, old house with a dramatic staircase and an attic that felt like a maze of tiny rooms. She ran the household and was permitted complete freedom, which meant a party every weekend. I was soon invited to one of those.

I think I may still have a picture from that night, or one of those nights, and I clearly recall the expression on my face in that photo – bleary-eyed fascination at what was going on around me. Her friends were flamboyant, loud, and heavy drinkers all. I’d had maybe a wine cooler or two before then (it was the 80’s; forgive me) but had never been even close to drunk. She decided that white wine was the best choice for me, and told me to drink it like water. And so I did.

It was a long and slow seduction. I remember sitting in the kitchen around 3 AM, when her diabetic father came down for a snack. He sleepily asked, “What are you up to?”

“Getting Alice drunk.”

“Why?”

“So I can seduce her later.”

I giggled. I don’t think I even knew what she meant.

Later was probably about 5:30 AM, after she decided to cut my hair. I had always loved having my hair cut, and it gave me a feeling I would identify with arousal now, but I didn’t know what it was then. A drunken haircut probably wasn’t the best idea, and I don’t remember quite how bad of a haircut it was, but it wasn’t good.

We finally arrived in her bedroom, one of the tiny attic rooms with a small window, set in the eaves, walls painted gold with clothing and records piled on the floor next to a mattress. A turntable rested on egg crates. I was seduced to David Bowie’s “Changes” played several times in succession. I curled up on her bed and said, “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

She said, “Don’t worry, I do,” and pulled her t-shirt over her head.

She was luscious. She showed me what to do, demonstrated on my own body before allowing me to repeat the same on hers. What I remember most is the loveliness of her breasts – so perfectly round, with small rosy nipples, and it felt wonderful to me to suck on them. I remember pressing my knee between her legs, as she had to mine. I remember…

I remember staring out the window as the sun came up and she slept. I remember dressing and creeping out of the house, walking home through the still-quiet morning.

I remember falling apart. I remember asking too much of her. I remember saying I loved her, and being told, as gently as she could, that she didn’t love me. I remember finding peace with that, then losing it again. We tried to keep our friendship alive, but in a few years it faded away entirely.

Not long ago we reconnected through the wonders of social media. She was pleased, and surprised, and glad that I didn’t hate her, she wrote. She always felt bad about how often she’d convinced me to skip classes. She felt responsible for the fact that I’d dropped out of college entirely.

I had to laugh. She was responsible for so much more. She started everything. And for that, I’m rather grateful.

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3 Comments

  1. It’s always best to start at the beginning. (via Such Nonsense) « V E R O N I C A said,

    […] It’s always best to start at the beginning. (via Such Nonsense) I was a very late bloomer. I wouldn't say she took advantage of my innocence, but I definitely had a lot of it. To be 19 years old and never been kissed, let alone touched, was on the rare side even then. I didn't expect anything to happen. I wasn't even hoping or wishing for something to happen. I didn't know anything could happen. I had so little understanding of myself as a sexual being. I didn't even masturbate until I was 18. I still wore th … Read More […]

  2. veronica said,

    sorry for asking late but i have already reblogged your post,, sorry because i just can’t help it!!! i truly love it and so are your other posts that i’ve read just now as well =P your sexcapades are damn!!! and not just that, each and every post is bustling with meaningful content especially this one —-> MORE THOUGHTS ABOUT ORGASMS

    *off to read more of your posts*

    i’m sooooo darn hooked!!!

    now i got a new blog to lurk into,, this is what i call GIRL POWER hehe

    this made my day =P

    thanks to you ALICE =P

    • Alice Digitalis said,

      I’m so happy you’re reading and enjoying it! Thank your for your comments.

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