spine, my palm against the jut of his hip bone.
His shirt buttons had opened and there was his stomach, flat, muscled, a line of dark hair, leading
downward...I watched my hand pop the button on his jeans. It was a reflex action, anyone would
have done it.
Then we froze; now what?
My hand was shaking slightly. I looked up at him. He was watching me, his expression
beseeching, and slowly I found myself lowering the zip, the details of his erection visible against
the straining denim.
Lean flank, tiny bottom, a line of muscles along the back of his thighs, he was even more
delicious than I'd imagined. Leaning over me, his shoulders flexing, he unwrapped me like I was
a present. "Anna, you're so beautiful," he said over and over. "You're so beautiful."
His erection felt like silk, soft and hard between my thighs, and he kissed me everywhere from
my eyelids to the backs of my knees.
All my training went by the board. I'd really meant to twirl my bra above my head but in the heat
of the moment I forgot. I'd other stuff on my mind: I rarely come with men the first time I'm
with them, but the things he was doing to me, the slow manipulation of his penis against me,
inside me, the heat and the need and the pleasure building, swelling me...
We picked up speed and I wanted more.
"Faster," I begged. "Aidan, I think I'm going to..." He was moving faster and faster into me, and
I was still building, building, moving toward the top, then after a second of pure nothingness, I
exploded, exquisite pleasure radiating outward and inward, afterwaves throbbing through me.
Then he was coming, his fingers tangled in my hair, his eyes closed, his face a picture of
anguish, saying my name. "Anna, Anna, Anna."
For a long time afterward, neither of us spoke. Slick with sweat and knocked out by pleasure, we
were flattened against the sheets. I was having little conversations with myself in my head: That
was amazing. That was incredible. But I said nothing; anything would sound like a clich�.
"Anna?"
"Mmm?"
He rolled over on top of me and said, "That was one of the best things that has ever happened to
me."
But it wasn't just good sex. I felt like I knew him. I felt like he loved me. We went to sleep
spooned together, his arm tight around my stomach, my hand resting on his hip.
I awoke to the sound of a cup clattering beside my ear. "Coffee," he said. "Time to get up."
I pulled myself out of my blissful slumber and tried to sit up.
"You're already dressed," I said, surprised.
"Yeah." He wouldn't meet my eye. He sat on the foot of the bed, pulling on his socks, his face
bent downward, his back to me, and suddenly I was wide-awake.
I'd been here before and I knew the rules: keep it light, don't push him, let him do his elastic-
band thing.
Well, fuck that. I deserved better.
I sipped my coffee and said, "You haven't forgotten tomorrow night? Shake's air-guitar stuff?
You still coming?"
Without turning to look at me, he mumbled into his knees, "I won't be around this weekend."
I forgot to breathe. I felt like I'd been slapped. Looked like I should have done the toe-touching,
bum-waggling thing after all.
"Gotta go to Boston," he went on. "Stuff to sort out."
"Whatever."
"Whatever?" He turned around. He looked surprised.
"Yes, Aidan, whatever. You sleep with me, you go weird on me, and now, all of a sudden, you're
not around this weekend. Whatever."
His face drained of color. "Anna, yeah, look. I guess there's no right time for this." Something
bad was coming. The end of me and Aidan. Just when I'd really started to like him. Bums.
"What?" I asked sharply.
"But how would you feel about, you know, you and me, being exclusive?"
"Being exclusive?"
Being exclusive was nearly like getting engaged.
"Yeah, just you and me. I don't know if you're still seeing other guys..."
I shrugged. Neither did I. And there was a much more important question: "You still seeing other
girls?"
A pause. "That's why I need to go to Boston."
16
O n
His shirt buttons had opened and there was his stomach, flat, muscled, a line of dark hair, leading
downward...I watched my hand pop the button on his jeans. It was a reflex action, anyone would
have done it.
Then we froze; now what?
My hand was shaking slightly. I looked up at him. He was watching me, his expression
beseeching, and slowly I found myself lowering the zip, the details of his erection visible against
the straining denim.
Lean flank, tiny bottom, a line of muscles along the back of his thighs, he was even more
delicious than I'd imagined. Leaning over me, his shoulders flexing, he unwrapped me like I was
a present. "Anna, you're so beautiful," he said over and over. "You're so beautiful."
His erection felt like silk, soft and hard between my thighs, and he kissed me everywhere from
my eyelids to the backs of my knees.
All my training went by the board. I'd really meant to twirl my bra above my head but in the heat
of the moment I forgot. I'd other stuff on my mind: I rarely come with men the first time I'm
with them, but the things he was doing to me, the slow manipulation of his penis against me,
inside me, the heat and the need and the pleasure building, swelling me...
We picked up speed and I wanted more.
"Faster," I begged. "Aidan, I think I'm going to..." He was moving faster and faster into me, and
I was still building, building, moving toward the top, then after a second of pure nothingness, I
exploded, exquisite pleasure radiating outward and inward, afterwaves throbbing through me.
Then he was coming, his fingers tangled in my hair, his eyes closed, his face a picture of
anguish, saying my name. "Anna, Anna, Anna."
For a long time afterward, neither of us spoke. Slick with sweat and knocked out by pleasure, we
were flattened against the sheets. I was having little conversations with myself in my head: That
was amazing. That was incredible. But I said nothing; anything would sound like a clich�.
"Anna?"
"Mmm?"
He rolled over on top of me and said, "That was one of the best things that has ever happened to
me."
But it wasn't just good sex. I felt like I knew him. I felt like he loved me. We went to sleep
spooned together, his arm tight around my stomach, my hand resting on his hip.
I awoke to the sound of a cup clattering beside my ear. "Coffee," he said. "Time to get up."
I pulled myself out of my blissful slumber and tried to sit up.
"You're already dressed," I said, surprised.
"Yeah." He wouldn't meet my eye. He sat on the foot of the bed, pulling on his socks, his face
bent downward, his back to me, and suddenly I was wide-awake.
I'd been here before and I knew the rules: keep it light, don't push him, let him do his elastic-
band thing.
Well, fuck that. I deserved better.
I sipped my coffee and said, "You haven't forgotten tomorrow night? Shake's air-guitar stuff?
You still coming?"
Without turning to look at me, he mumbled into his knees, "I won't be around this weekend."
I forgot to breathe. I felt like I'd been slapped. Looked like I should have done the toe-touching,
bum-waggling thing after all.
"Gotta go to Boston," he went on. "Stuff to sort out."
"Whatever."
"Whatever?" He turned around. He looked surprised.
"Yes, Aidan, whatever. You sleep with me, you go weird on me, and now, all of a sudden, you're
not around this weekend. Whatever."
His face drained of color. "Anna, yeah, look. I guess there's no right time for this." Something
bad was coming. The end of me and Aidan. Just when I'd really started to like him. Bums.
"What?" I asked sharply.
"But how would you feel about, you know, you and me, being exclusive?"
"Being exclusive?"
Being exclusive was nearly like getting engaged.
"Yeah, just you and me. I don't know if you're still seeing other guys..."
I shrugged. Neither did I. And there was a much more important question: "You still seeing other
girls?"
A pause. "That's why I need to go to Boston."
16
O n
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