Unrealistic

7. How Experienced Are You?

“Mallory you sure you don’t want something small to eat? You didn’t have breakfast this morning,” I can hear mom ask down the hall.

“No, it’s okay. I’m just saving my appetite for lunch. His grandparents always want to go to a buffet and I can never seem to eat enough for them.” 

She and mom share a laugh. I’m just hiding in my room trying to figure out how to approach Mallory after last night. I selfishly still needed a ride and I didn’t want mom asking me several questions about why Patrick wasn’t picking me up.

“Well I really need to go in for my shift at the hospital,” mom says. “Don’t forget curfew still counts even when I’m not home, I will know!” 

“Of course mom,” I hear Mallory swear. “12 o’clock sharp.”

“Did you hear me Sylvia?” mom calls.

“Yes mom!” I yell back, “11 o’clock for me.” 

“Okay! Love you girls,” she says. “I don’t need to tell you to be good.”

She leaves and I hear the front door open and close. I make my way down the hall to Mallory’s room.

“Mallory?” I say outside her door.

“Yeah?”

I take it as an invitation to let myself in. She’s sitting at her vanity putting on some brown eyeliner.

“Are you still mad at me?”

She looks at me through the mirror then continues drawing perfect catlines across her eyelids.

“Should I be?”

I know I should tread lightly because it’s definitely a rhetorical question.

“I am really sorry,” I say.

“Are you sorry because you know what you said was hurtful or because you need a ride?”

I hate to admit it’s both.

“Yes, I need a ride.” I began, “But you know it’s not why I would apologize. I was a major jerk last night. And that’s after you told me such a monumental event in your life!”

She finishes her eyeliner and turns around to study my face for sincerity.

“Do you think I’m some kind of sinner because I didn’t wait?”

“WHAT?? NO! Mallory I would never judge you,” I exclaim. “Well… last night I know it seemed that way… but NO! N.O. I don’t think you’re a sinner!”

I run over and hug her, to which I am glad she receives it wholeheartedly.

“Please forgive me,” I beg. “I’m so, so sorry for ever making you feel that way.”.

“I normally don’t care what people say,” she says a bit tearful. “Even though you’re younger than me, I do care  about what you think of me.”

“I think the world of you sis,” I assure her. “There’s nothing that would make me think less of you.” 

“Thank you,” she says, wiping the tears from the corner of her eyes. “Crap! I need to fix my makeup.” 

We laugh and while she re-applies her makeup, we talk about her plans with Hector after lunch. They plan on watching the movie “The Phantom of the Opera” that came out in the theaters a couple of weeks ago.

“What are your plans with Patrick?” she asks.

“I don’t know yet,” I say. “He’s been pretty secretive about it.”

“Must be something good!” Mallory says excitedly.

I shrug, not wanting to get my hopes up.

“Must be!” I say.

Mallory finishes getting ready and after I give her the thumbs-up for her outfit, we head out.

>> 

On my way. SEND.

>> …

ANDY BISHOP: Sounds good ;)

>>

We don’t say much during the car ride but I suspect Mallory is rehearsing topics of conversations in her head. I’ve only met Hector’s grandparents once and they’re even more uptight than his parents. I, on the other hand, had my own topics I was rehearsing.

“Thanks Mallory!” I say as we pull up. “You sure you don’t mind swinging back before the movie?”

“I don’t mind,” she says. “The movie doesn’t start until 5 anyways.”

“Alright!” I say, “See you in a few hours then?”

“Sure thing!” she says as I get out of the car.

It’s much lighter outside and the Bishop’s house is more noticeably aged. Unlike most homes in the neighborhood with vinyl siding, their house has the original brick. The roof and the gutters look like they need work, but the house has an old-time charm I begin to appreciate.

Mr. Bishop isn’t on the front porch this time so I make it to the front door and ring the doorbell. I can hear the high-pitch ring echoing through the house before I hear footsteps. The door swings open and Andy smiles when he sees it’s me.

He’s wearing khaki shorts and a white tee layered with an open navy blue buttoned down shirt. He steps back and lets me in.

“If I tell you my dad isn’t home, will you run back out?” he asks mischievously.

“Where is he?” I ask.

“He works down at the shipyard on the weekends,” he says.

It is kind of perfect that Mr. Bishop isn’t here.

“It’s not a big deal,” is all I say. “Where to?”

He directs me to the den that is past the dining area. It is furnished with high-back armchairs and a brick fireplace with an outdated green carpet. He throws some oversized cushions on the floor.

“Trust me, these are more comfortable than the chairs,” he says.

I sit down and open my bag, rummaging for my biology book and notebook. 

“So how was the rest of your night?” he asks.

“It was good,” I answer. 

I really want to ask him the questions in the back of my mind, I just don’t know where to start.

“How was yours?” I ask back.

“It was good,” he says, “I think I’m almost done with that song.”

“Really?” I ask, surprised he brought it up. “Will you play it for me when it’s done?”

“If you beg me to, how can I say no?” he smiles.

“Will you ever say no to me?” I smile back.

“Probably not,” he says confidently.

I find my opportunity.

“Can I ask you any question I want then?”

“Sure.”

“How experienced are you?”

“What do you mean? Like music?” he asks unsure. “I’m not a professional or anything, but I can write music… I play drums and guitar and-”

“No not musically” I clarify, “How experienced are you with s*x and other things?”

“Are you asking me if I’ve had s*x?” he asks, dumbfounded. 

“Yes, and you said you would answer.” I remind him.

“If you’re asking if I’m a virgin, then no.” He says, “But I think you already knew that.”

“I suspected, yes.” 

“So what are you really asking me?”

He’s smarter than I give him credit for.

“Can you explain what there is, other than s*x?” I almost beg him to answer. 

“Are you being serious?” he asks with an eyebrow raised.

“Don’t mock me,” I plea. “I’m just tired of feeling like I’m the last one to get the joke.”

“I’m not mocking you,” he says earnestly. “You really want me to explain it to you?”

“Yes, please.” 

“I’m more of a show-er,” he says. “I’m not poking fun, but it’s not something I really know how to explain in words.”

I think it over. I really want to know but I wonder if I’m asking for trouble now.

“I have a boyfriend,” I say abruptly.

“I suspected” is all he says.

“How so?” I ask, unbelieving.

“You seem immune to my charms,” he says. 

I don’t know how true that is.

“So... how would you show me?” I’m even more curious.

“I have my ways…  if you trust me,” he says with the same mischievous smile I have come to know.

Do I trust him? 

Even if I didn’t one hundred percent, I didn’t want to stay in the dark anymore.

“I trust you,” I say. 

“You sure?” he asks, as if he’s giving me a chance to back out.

“Yes,” I say without a doubt.

He leans in closer to me and I try to steady my breathing and remain calm despite the nervousness that is threatening to encompass me.

“This stays between us?” he asks. “I don’t want your boyfriend kicking my ass for this later.”

I nod with understanding.

“This is purely research for the biology report,” I say nonchalantly. 

He stifles a laugh and takes a deep breath before he gets serious again.

“I’m not going to actually do anything to you.” He clarifies, “Even though I really want to.” 

I gulp.

“Boyfriend or not,” he goes on, “you’re not ready for that.”

I think he’s right so I just nod again.

“Show me then.” I command.

“Okay, patience, Syl,” he instructs. “I might not get to do what I want to you, but I will enjoy it.”

Breathe, Sylvia.

“There are a lot of things that can happen that doesn’t require penetration,” he begins. “You know what that is, right?”

I roll my eyes.

“Yes. I might not have had s*x, but I know what it is.”

“Okay, okay,” he says. “I don’t know how much you know, but I guess I’m not surprised you don’t know what oral is.”

“No, I don’t,” I admit.

“Well,” he says touching my lips. “I can only speak as a heterosexual male, so I’m speaking strictly from experience between a boy and a girl, you feel me?”

“Makes sense,” I say as calmly as I can with the tingling his fingers leave on my mouth. “Go on.”

“There are things we can do to pleasure one another without actual intercourse.”

“Pleasure?”

“Sylvia, how long have you been dating your guy?”

“Seven months, why?”

“That’s an awful long time to date someone and not know what pleasure is” he states with a judgmental look.

“If you mean kissing, we kiss all the time.”

“With tongue?”

I thought about it. 

“Well, no,” I say. “Is that not normal?”

“I mean… it’s just one step away from oral, if you ask me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“When you learn to use your tongue, it’s one way you can pleasure your partner down there,” he says as he takes my hand and places it between my legs.

This was so unfamiliar but I can’t deny the desire to know more.

“Do you pleasure yourself at all?” he asks.

“No,” I say a little defensively. “Do you?”

“All the time,” he says. “It’s called m**********n. Guys will tell you they do it, but girls are more secretive. They always act like they don’t.”

“But I don’t,” I say sternly. “I don’t even know what that means.”

He exhales. Maybe he regrets trying to explain all this to such a naive girl. I must have looked ashamed because he picks up my chin.

“Hey it’s okay,” he says. “Where we live, these things aren’t really talked about unless it’s being told not to do it.”

I guess that’s true.

“Do you mind explaining it to me?” I ask.

“They make all kinds of toys and gadgets for girls, but because you’re a virgin,” he emphasizes the last word, “if you choose to masturbate, you’ll just need these," he says lifting my fingers for me to see.

I gulp again.

“If you’re worried about the whole penetration thing,” he says “you can just rub yourself lightly until you feel relief.” 

He places my hand back between my legs and he pushes down on my fingers so they push against my s*x. I immediately feel a warm tension through my thin cotton shorts. 

“Okay,” I say lifting my hand before it goes further. “m**********n, check. What else about oral?”

He laughs and I can feel his warm breath on my face.

“Well if the guy knows what he’s doing, he can use his own fingers down there… or his tongue.”

“What?”

“Tongue, Sylvia,” he laughs. “That’s why I say learning to use your tongue comes in handy. Can I show you?”

“What? No!” I say incredulously.

“I can show you on your hand, so you can say it’s not cheating.”

I want to believe it’s true so I give him my hand. He lifts it so my palm is toward his mouth. He licks up my palm and I can’t help but clench my legs together. The tip of his tongue grazes my palm and works up to my fingers. Watching his tongue dance around and move in between my fingers makes my core weep.

“Okay I get it,” I say, taking my hand back before I lose my senses.

He chuckles.

“We’re only halfway through our lesson,” he says smiling.