The First Time

Each time we take a hot shower – it is a moment of absolute bliss as we allow the water to cut into us. Like a paring knife to an apple – it takes away the day’s pain, grime, sweat and blood. I looked down at the water that pooled around my feet.
The shower was probably not a good idea with that much blood loss.

I curiously looked at my chest and the thin red ribbons of blood that escaped the wound. I need to wash the rest of the body but prevent myself from bleeding out at the same time. I should have stitched myself up first, but I wasn’t thinking straight. I was an idiot. Grabbing a wash cloth – which in retrospect was probably not the most sanitary thing to do – and pressed it against the wound. The blade had gone straight in and by luck had not punctured my lung. It still stung as I breathed in the steam, but the pain was welcomed in comparison to sucking in bloodied air and hacking it up.

My train of thought was broken as I heard the front door close hard. My “guest” had left. I sighed and picked up luffa and just dropped it on the shower floor. I normally needed two hands to apply body wash so I was going to have to improvise. The sight of the bottle made me laugh. She had said it was my scent that she first noticed. Was the body wash to blame? I shook my head and shut off the water. I needed the first aid kit.

Two hours ago I was sitting on the patio of the local bar and grill. Tonight was going to be my night. It needed to be tonight. There was no more waiting. I felt good and relaxed. I had taken the time to carve myself into something aesthetically pleasing. In many ways – it seemed like I had been waiting all 20 years of my life for this day. Sure I’ve had chances before and each and every time there was something wrong. It was like there conspiracy against me – or maybe God just hated me. It was usually excuses about having a headache or she had company over. The latter usually meant she lied about not having a boyfriend/husband, kids or all of the above. It was like I had a giant ‘V’ for ‘Virgin’ written in bright pink letters on my forehead.

I leaned back in my chair and looked into the warm night sky when I felt someone sit down across from me. Looking forward I stared into the light blue sea that was a pair of eyes. Its owners gave me a warm smile. She had a slight sense of nervousness that gave the smile lines on her face a bit more depth. Her hair was a chestnut brown and flowed down to her shoulders. She reminded me of a plainer version of Renee Russo that time had chipped away at. She was still attractive though the make-up showed that she was trying hard to look half her age. She and I didn’t belong in this bar scene. We were two fish out of water in our own ways. She began the conversation with just that.

“You seem like you are trying hard to fit in – but this really isn’t you, is it?” she asked.

Her matter-of-factly tone threw me off and my new set of material slipped from my mind. Instead I tried the original approach called honesty. I shrugged and shook my head, “It’s ridiculous on how much time and money people spend on themselves to look like this. The amount I spent on a simple body wash was just stupid.”

“Then why go to all the trouble?” she asked simply.

“I nee…I want to meet someone,” I said trying to correct myself but she raised an eyebrow at the slip of desperation. She gave me a knowing smile and her foot tapped against mine. She pushed her hair behind her ear and laughed – as if she thought she knew why I was really here.

“My name is Jessica – what’s yours?” she asked.

A few drinks, laughter and the occasional hands touch between us both had set things in motion. We left the bar patio were suddenly at my front door. The drive from there was a blur as she molested me as I drove. She said she was a divorced teacher who was looking for distraction. There seemed to be a naughty undertone in what she was saying – but her lips on my mine as our bodies were pressed against my front door did more than imply the obvious. For whatever reason, I could not get my hand steady enough to get the key inside the hole. It was a play on my whole nervousness in many ways. Without looking – she ran her hand down my arm to my hand and steadied it – slowly inserting the key. She gave me a satisfied smirk as I turned the lock and pushed the door open.

Closing the door with a kick of my foot, I turned and locked the deadbolt. Pulling her with me, I lead her to the bedroom. Clothing had either fallen off or had been pulled off by the both of us. She had pushed me down to the bed and straddled me. Putting both arms behind her back, she unhooked her bra and threw it to the side. With the exception of her stockings – we were both naked. She hadn’t worn any underwear much to my surprise when I had pulled up her dress in my doorway. She worked her hips on my body – sliding back and forth slowly while relishing my reaction. She was enjoying herself as was I.

The classical radio station was playing softly. Her body moved in tune with “Il Barbière Di Siviglia”. This was the moment, the perfect moment. She slid me inside of her and she was lost in the moment. Her hands slid up behind her hair as she leaned back.

The measure picked up and so did she. She worked her hips and knees in the fashion of a woman who knew exactly how to please herself. Despite my intentions – the sensation was amazing. I had forgotten what it had felt like – and that was when I realized my mistake. I had forgotten a slight yet enormous detail. My body was still male and when a woman is riding you like she was me – a natural reaction takes place. It was that moment I was filled with abject terror. In a few seconds I was going to explode inside of her. It would have ruined everything. I needed to end this quickly. I reached under the pillow and felt the handle of the straight razor. Gripping it, I took a breath and was about to make a swipe upwards towards that white porcelain throat as the music climaxed. However, in that moment, she had climaxed. Her muscles tensed and squeezed as she feel forward moaning in ecstasy and slamming her hands into my chest.

The song ended and that is when I felt the pain. Those blue eyes smiled at me and I looked at them. She looked at my right hand that had been frozen in midair and saw the straight razor.

She blinked and pushed the pushed knife further down. I snarled and swung the razor, slicing into her arm. She screamed and pulled the knife out as she backed off of me. She held the knife forward with a trained hand. We stared at each other – blood flowed freely as we watched each other for the next move. My heart was beating a thousand miles an hour and the sweat stung my chest.

The look on her face went from pained anger as she looked at me and around the room and then changed to curiosity. Save for the bed and the dresser – there was no decoration to the room. There were no pictures, posters or art. Someone – yet no one lived there. Looking back at me, she cocked her head slightly and raised an eyebrow, “This was supposed to be your first time…wasn’t it?”

For a moment I felt ashamed. It was like a kid who was just called out for having a shit stain on the back of his pants. I turned red and could do nothing else but nod my head. She looked over to the drawer next to her and opened it with her bleeding arm. Grabbing a t-shirt, she switched hands with the knife as pressed the shirt to the wound on her arm.

“The question is – should we both be insulted or flattered that we both came off as prey to one another?” The ironic realization dawned on me. We both had been there for the same thing after all. We both had been there to hunt. She was looking for a younger challenge and I was looking for my first. I just looked down and laughed at the irony. Looking up at her – she just sort of smiled and gave off that that rich laugh from earlier.

“Truce?” I asked.

She looked at me with a steady eye and nodded her head. I walked into the bathroom and pulled the shower curtain back to run the water. She spoke at me from behind, “You were trying to hard…you need to relax when you are out there. Trust me – your next one will be the one. Thought a word to the wise – do not bring them back where you live. What if I had gotten away?”

I just stood there feeling stupid. She was right. I wanted it so much to happen that I forgotten my plan. I rushed things and wasn’t in control. She was a better predator than me. I was just an amateur and had she known the full scope of my intentions – she would have called me a tourist at best. The rest of the night I sat in the bathroom taking a needle to my chest to stitch up the wound. I had drawn blood but the moment wasn’t right.

We both came off as prey to one another is what she said. I looked into the mirror.

My reflection stared back and said, “We need to change that.”

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