The Virgins by Pamela Erens

Author:Pamela Erens [Erens, Pamela]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781935639626
Publisher: Tin House Books
Published: 2013-08-06T04:00:00+00:00

34

What I do next:

I turn back toward my room, Sterne’s eyes still on me. I lock my door, not that anybody would be likely to visit, but I need to be able to put such a possibility out of my mind. I know David’s still in Boston on an overnight he took to visit a cousin.

I get into bed, pull the sheet lightly over me. If for some strange reason David did return I could roll over in an instant, say I feel sick, I threw up, I was sleeping. I reach under my boxers, but the first image that flares up in my mind is the butt of my hand knocking Sterne sharply under the chin, his smile crumpling and his teeth flying out of his mouth the way they’ve flown out of mine in certain terrible dreams I’ve had. I’m hard before I’m even conscious of thinking about Aviva. But here she is now, as my hand moves up and down; she’s riding on top of me, moving slow and deliberate and then gradually faster, hitching a little on that sensitive spot at the top that she knows is so right. I think that for once she’s actually going to stay. It’s strange, but although she often sends me here, into my bed, under this sheet, she always dissolves almost immediately into something else, one of the generic bodies that have served my purpose since I first figured out what jerking off was all about. I try to keep her, literally slow the mental film so that I am approaching her obscured figure from behind, turning her to me, pushing her gently onto my cot—gently, I repeat, so as not to scare her, so as to show her that I won’t be idiotic and clumsy the way I was at the boathouse. It never works: she becomes yet another creature with long, straight blond hair, featureless skin, a large mouth, big smooth haunches. Nothing like Aviva.

But now Aviva towers above me, as if to say all right, I can have her, but she is going to be the one in charge. Okay, okay, I silently agree, thrusting up to the rhythm of my fist, but the faster I go and the closer I get, the more my mental Aviva slows down and withholds herself, telling me to wait, I’m just going to have to wait. I don’t want to wait; I push against her, calling her bitch, saying filthy things. She bends way over me then, pinning my hands to the mattress, her hair all over my face, getting in my mouth, blinding me. She laughs like she laughed that first day I met her, in her room, a laugh of encouragement and maddening aloofness. I start to beg: Please, let me go, let me come, let me, and in a whirl of motion that shatters her image and makes her disappear yet again, she does.

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