"What do you mean you've never..." the words fell off Alex's voice as if they've dove off a cliff.. Amber looked back at him, her face a mixture of shame and acknowledgment. "But what about Scott. We've talked about it before. You two were like rabbits."
"I know, but..." she turned to the window, her finger traced the rim of her near empty wine glass, "even after the best sex, I couldn't do it. I just had to fake it."
Amber and Scott's break up had been legendary. She was barely a freshman when Scott swept her up and the senior's attention had a magical effect on the sexy but shy girl. It was if she graduated to womanhood overnight. The soft swoops of her hips and breasts, which often seemed frumpy and awkward, smoothed into lusty curves. The constricted march of the timid, loosed into an orbiting sway. Her blue eyes brightened and her aspect sharpened all shined by the lacquer of confidence.
The transformation didn't go unnoticed. Other girls, drawn by her kindness and genuity, flocked to her side and guys fell dizzy under her spell. On the other hand, Scott turned out to be immune. He was the first to spread her legs and would rather have kept his trophy on sleeve instead of his heart. The sex, which was plentiful, was more a payoff for his attention than passion.
It ended publicly, during a big party at the end of the semester.. Amber walked into a bathroom and discovered Scott chin deep in a sophomore's crotch. Her scream brought the house to the bathroom door like paparazzi. The sophomore, her panties below her knees and her tits dangling out the neckline of her sun dress, bolted from the house like a stumbling mare. Tears of shame streamed down her face. Scott was nicknamed "Red Face", the sophomore disappeared before the next semester, and Amber crumbled like unfired clay.
"I'm sorry, there's nothing wrong with that, I shouldn't have made such a big deal about it. I mean, its just that," Alex was scrambling, "I just thought, all this time we were talking about the same thing." When their late night conversations became this deep, Amber was very vulnerable. A tear slid down her face.
"But there IS something wrong. I should be able to...to orgasm like everybody else." Her voice trembled. The word 'orgasm' was pronounced carefully, almost antiseptic. No matter how often they talked about sex, the words were always scientific, not shaped for arousal. "Its something so natural, so real. And I can't do it," she was interupted by a sob. Alex slid closer to her and she cried on his shoulder. He let his fingers pull through her smooth dark hair and tickle the back of her neck. "Maybe I'm one of those people who can't orgasm." Her voice wavered through the sobs and was muffled by his shoulder.
"Shhhh," Alex whispered, "just relax."
Alex remembered dragging Amber out of the party, being one of the few to notice the freshman weeping on the floor in the chaotic mess of laughter and catcalls that ensued the party. She was incoherent and he had no place to take her but to his own place. Alex had graduated the year before, but had taken a job at the school as a tutor. He had been popular at the school and was always present at parties and functions, but like most graduates, was tiring of the scene and the antics the it included.
When Amber finally regained her composure, she was on the couch in his tiny apartment. It was the next morning. Alex had slept in the easy chair next to her. She thanked him over a tall glass of orange juice. The day went on, they watched TV. Amber would disappear occasionaly into the bathroom to cry. It was obvious that Amber didn't want to leave, and Alex offered for her to stay as long as she wanted. In the three days that Amber stayed on his couch, wearing his clothes, they struck up a friendship. Amber's world had spilled, and before she had gathered the courage to returned to her place there wasn't anything that Alex didn't know about her. Even her sexual history was leaked out between tears on the last night. Alex shared too, not at the degree or intensity of Amber's stories, but enough to build a solid trust.
Despite their difference in age, the friendship lasted. In the months that passed, they were together at least twice a week, going to the movies or having dinner. More frequent were the late night phone calls that lasted until morning, and the quiet knocks on his door when Amber couldn't bear to be alone. Their relationship was intimate, everything was shared, but romance between them was never mentioned. Both expecting the ramifications of any longing to cripple their contentment. Slowly her confidence returned, the brightness shone again. Alex and Amber were happy. That night, when Alex's phone had shrilled at 1:15 in the morning, he just buzzed her in. Amber had been at a party with some of her girlfriends, a rare opportunity which Alex encouraged the nearly agoraphobic girl whenever possible.
She teetered drunkenly to the couch and plopped down. Alex poured her some wine and opened a beer for himself. She had met a guy, they'd exchanged numbers. Amber was beginning to heal and Alex was happy for her. Then they're talk began, gliding from trivial to serious, from her new shoes to sex. Their conversations almost always became about sex. Amber, despite her past, was still very curious about men. Alex never understood why, but humored her, and enjoyed the thrilling tingle that came with talking so frankly with a beautiful girl. That night, comforting her like he had one hundred times before, Alex finally understood.
"I'm such a baby," she said as she wiped her tears away and straightened her back-less tank top. It was no surprise that some guy had wanted her number.
"Yeah, you are." Alex responded and they both laughed a little, letting the tension seep away. "Its my fault. I was just caught by surprise." She nodded and snuggled closer as she took another drink. They sat together quietly for a few minutes sipping their drinks, enjoying each other's scent..
