For You, the Stars
Chapter Five: Paid in Full
One night we were getting ready to go out and Cecilia asked me to roll a joint that we could offer to the owner of the club we were hitting, just to curry favor with him. While I didn’t enjoy posturing or pretending to be someone I wasn’t, for the most part I was willing to take her lead in how to relate to the management of these discos. If it got us into a VIP room or sped up our entrances when there was a line behind the velvet gate, then sure, I was happy to give away a joint’s worth of weed.
I rolled it up and stuck it in my pocket. One of Cecilia’s friends drove us to the club. When we got inside we split up like we ordinarily did to check out the scene and meet strangers. After about 45 minutes we ran into each other near the bar and Cecilia grabbed me and took me to the owner’s office.
On the way there we converged with the guy. He was in his mid-forties. Kind of short like me. Wearing a suit with an open collar. He didn’t seem too cheesy to me. Cecilia introduced me as her friend.
“Here,” I said, pulling the number out of my pocket and holding it out to him.
“No, thanks,” he said, waving it away and flinching.
When we got to his office and he closed the door, he said, “I can’t be seen accepting drugs from you in public.”
I handed over the joint and felt like an idiot. After that I was pretty bored with the conversation. The office was tacky and the guy didn’t seem to have that much going on.
It was obvious to me that he was trying to impress Cecilia. She never believed me when I told her that nearly every guy she met was trying to get into her pants (or, since she almost never wore underwear - couldn’t abide panty lines - into her skirt). She was almost deliberately naive, wanting to believe she was simply very popular, with men at least, and that everyone had the best of intentions.
To me, though, it was obvious. I was a guy. I knew how guys think. I wasn’t even especially jealous. We had this open thing. She could do what she wanted. I felt more protective than anything else. I felt like I needed to teach her about how the world really works. It was almost as if she was so disconnected from sex that she didn’t understand that her sexiness, her provocative ways of dressing and flirting, inevitably led me on.
Even though she was having no orgasms, our sex life continued to be very active. There was no real drop off as we settled into the familiarity of a post-infatuation relationship. In fact, for all of our openness, neither of us had yet slept with anyone else. I wasn’t trying all that hard myself, and I suspect that there wasn’t much appeal to it for Cecilia as long as she could get intention without giving up the sex that she wasn’t all that interested anyway.
That way she had me to come home to no matter way, which I gather was somewhat comforting. I may not have been as good looking as most of her other boyfriends, nor as buff and athletic, but I was feeling more confident of my looks: I was thinner, my hair was getting long, I was dressing better.
We used to joke that I made her smart and she made me cool. I didn’t have to do that much to make her smart. She was smart. I just had to point that out to her, that she was figuring things out for herself, that she was shrewd, that the dumb blonde act wasn’t working on me.
She was always giving me little pointers, like when I put on sweat socks and she made sure I scrunched them down around my ankles. She was kind of like an antidote for dorkiness for me.
One rainy day we were walking from my house to the other Gomer house. We didn’t go over there much but they had the good TV and we wanted to sit around and watch videos. It was raining rightly. I was feeling romantic, so after we passed the corner store that we called the orc-store (based on an unconsciously racist joke drawn from dungeons and dragons that associated the Palestinian store keepers with subhuman half-orcs from the quintessential dork role-playing game), I grabbed her and pushed her into a door way and started kissing her.
Cecilia liked it when I was aggressive with her and she responded, putting her arms around me and kissing back. As I kissed her and fondled her tits through her top she put her hand between my legs and felt that I was aroused. She unzipped me and took out my cock. I put my hands below her miniskirt and palmed her round little ass.
Probing further I felt that she was wet. We both had the same idea at the same time and she hitched herself up and slid down on me. I held her tight as we made love on a public street in the rain.
I wasn’t one for fucking standing up. I’d tried it before with Simone and my college girlfriend but just to get things lined up right usually required somebody to stand on something and then a kind of unnatural squat-thrusting to make things work. It turned out the Cecilia and I were a slightly better fit. She hooked one leg around me and I pushed her up against the doorway.
I remember hoping that no one tried to come out that door. Also, I think - though I can’t be positive - that Belinda and Gardner passed us on the way to the big house. I had my back turned to the street so I couldn’t be sure, but I saw familiar shapes go by in the dark with my peripheral vision. Fortunately it was evening and the cloud shielded us somewhat from the view of passing strangers.
Of course the publicness of our escapade was part of the thrill. The fear of getting caught.
Cecilia wasn’t on the pill. When we screwed, we used condoms, but I wasn’t wearing one now, of course, because we hadn’t planned this. On those occasions where we did mess around without a rubber I’d ordinarily be sure to pull out before the big event.
This time, however, I felt possessed. Something told me she wanted me to be reckless. As I got to the breaking point, I just bit her earlobe and let loose inside her.
Of course she didn’t come. As we wound down and then started putting our clothes back together, Cecilia said, “Why did you come inside me?” She didn’t sound angry but she wasn’t happy about it either.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”
“Well,” she said. “Nothing we can do about it now.”
As we walked the rest of the way up the block she told me she could feel it dripping down her leg. She said it made her feel nasty, in a good way.