Leather and Lace

Leather and Lace (A Collection of Short Stories Based off of real events) By: A.L. Moralez My first love, I’ll never forget, and it’s such a big part of who I am, and in so many ways, we could never be together, but that doesn’t mean that it’s not forever. Because it is forever. – Rashida Jones The Boy with the Guitar Alex had read about love, seen it on movies, and heard about it in songs. The experience of having it though, that was not something she knew. Most girls her age had already had their first kiss, first hickey well pretty much first everything. All her life she had been sheltered, and the moment her feet hit the ground as far from home as she could get she could make her own choices and rules. She broke every rule her parents had ever set for her, and it was liberating. She dated boy after boy, smoked cigarettes, and drank. She made friends with guys and girls. She was able to be alone with boys, and even though most of the people in the group gave her advice and watched over her at the end of the day she got to experience the things she had been denied at home. Then she met him, the guy that would teach her what love was. It wasn’t like in the movies all fireworks, but just a boy and a girl. Things moved rather slowly at first, they talked here and there about normal things. She confided in him that this was the first time she could ever do any of the things she was doing. It had to be his accepting nature and her silly and naïve nature that drew the pair together. They could always be found talking as he played the Guitar, or walking as they waited for friends. It was simple and easy, a much needed bond was formed for the both of them. One day some of the girls told her she needed to slow down dating. It made her angrier, and that she shouldn’t hang out with the guys if she had a boyfriend. Her mother would talk to every girl in the dorm, and they would relay the messages back to her. Even in Kentucky, she was still trying to control her from Georgia. Now, she was beyond angry. Why couldn’t she let her go? Alex wanted to live her own life, and not anything like her parents had. A vicious divorce, an addiction, and feeling like she was never what either of them wanted her to be. For the next few days, these thoughts played out in her head, and she grew distant and silent. He must have known something was on her mind, but he never really said anything just played as she smoked. Her mind running fast as always, she ended up breaking up with the boy she had started dating a week prior. Not his fault, he was a casualty in a war for her independence. Still like clock work, he played, and she smoked. His presence was comforting. There was one person in the world who wanted nothing from her, and that alone was enough. Many things happened in the months that followed, and she let him be her first real kiss, her first lover, and the first person she had ever loved. He was patient with her even when she really didn’t deserve it, and he never really got angry about anything. It was a blissful escape from the reality that was her mother weekly on the phone. In movies and books things are over exaggerated, sometimes it’s the simple things that matter the most. One day it just happened, she let him have all of her. It had started over a cigarette, and she had gone into the dorm room window herself. He kissed her, cigarette forgotten, and she melted. She was afraid, excited, but in that moment she gave into the desire. They made their way onto his bank, and he took off her pants. Their eyes met, and she knew she could back out if she wanted too. This time though, she wasn’t going to. It hurt there was no way it wasn’t going to hurt. She had never let anyone touch her like she had him. The door had opened, and she pressed her forehead to his chest trying to hide beneath him. He yelled for the intruder to get out, and she froze as they waited for the door to close. She wasn’t suppose to be in there, but she was. They had to finish quickly, and she left the window the same way she had come in. Superman “ I’m not shy. I’m modest, but I’m very outgoing.” Jackie Joyner-Kersee The first time I ever touched a boy, well technically a man I was eighteen and far away from the watchful eyes of my parents. They called him Superman because he looked like the guy from Smallville. I loved my parents but the strict upbringing had made me socially awkward, and had also been the driving force behind me leaving home. So here I was with the opportunity to experience boys for the first time unsupervised. When he took his shirt off I was caught off guard but hid it well, but the thought was there that in my eighteen years of life this was my first time seeing a guy unrelated to me shirtless. To make matters worse, he sat in between my legs, completely unaware of the fact that I was mentally freaking out. My eyes traveled from his dark brown hair, down his neck, across his shoulders, and down his back. Everyone knew I was a virgin, but they assumed that I had kissed before, made out, or obviously been this close to a guy without parental supervision. Hell, I wasn’t going to let anyone know how truly innocent and naïve I was. I knew my face was blushing, the moment my eyes landed on his olive skin, I had felt the heat rising. My friend glanced at him, and then at me. Mischief danced in her chocolate eyes, and then she spoke, “ You tired Superman?” Meanwhile, her own lustful eyes and hands had made their way to the man's back she liked. Around the same time she said this Superman groaned, and leaned back his shoulder's resting against my thighs. Panic set in, he was in my bubble, my personal space. “What are you doing,” I asked nervously as he lit a cigarette. “Shouldn’t have left your legs open,” he responded casually. “You can’t just go sitting in between someone’s legs,” I pointed out. He turned to look at me, brushing the hair away from his eyes. “My back hurts,” he complained as he rubbed his neck. “ You should rub it for him,” her friend suggested throwing me under the bus. I gaped slightly, it’s not like I could escape the situation now. My hands shook slightly as I raised them and placed them on his firm shoulders. He probably knew I was nervous, s**t by this time I was red as a tomato. My palms lay flat on his shoulder blades so I began to rub and kneed the sore muscle. His skin was warm, smooth, and soft, I had noticed, but then he let out a satisfied groan. I snatched my hands away as if I had been burned. What the f**k was that sound? I patted his back, “All done now,” I said trying to escape. “What,” he asked dumbfounded, as I tried to shift away. “Time to move,” I said cheerfully, still at this point trying to escape. He didn’t move far, but enough for me to quickly swing my leg around him, and then close them tightly. I scooted off the top of the table, and sat down beside him. He watched me for a moment, well they all did, but then my eyes landed on the guy with the guitar. “I gotta go,” I said quickly getting up. “Where are you going,” he asked following my gaze disapprovingly. I waved over my shoulder as I left, and greeted my friend, her boyfriend, and the guy with the guitar.