Читать книгу Amorous Woman - Donna George Storey - Страница 14

If my mother and Mrs. Muller were my first teachers in the secrets of sensual pleasure, my cousin Caroline was high school, college, and graduate school all rolled up in one. My apprenticeship began one Saturday evening in late February. My mother and I had been invited to a party at Aunt Jean and Uncle Bob’s new house, or rather, mansion, in Potomac. Uncle Bob had just been transferred to his company’s national headquarters in Washington, and my mother told me Caroline was so furious about having to leave California to spend her senior year in a new school, she demanded her own saucy red MGB GT and a shopping spree in Europe as her just compensation.

‘I’m glad you’re nothing like her,’ my mother said as we headed up the long path to their columned front entrance.

‘Me, too,’ I said, wrinkling my nose at the very thought. Dutiful daughter that I was, I tagged along to the party for her sake, bringing along a thick book to read while I holed up in some deserted guest bedroom. I planned to avoid blond surfer-girl Caroline like the plague, as I always did at our rare family gatherings over the years. But Caroline, and life, had different plans.

My cousin snagged me as I was wandering around looking for a hideout. She waved a bottle with a fancy French label at me. ‘I lifted some champagne from the bar. Come on up to my room, Lydia, and you can meet my friend, Marybeth. She’s wild.’

*****

‘Caroline, you didn’t tell me your cousin was cute!’ Those were Marybeth Leary’s first words when we met. She was stretched out on my cousin’s queen-size bed like Cleopatra, eyes hooded with marijuana and worldly ennui. She looked like an Egyptian queen, too, with blunt-cut raven hair and luminous skin she later confided was a result of ‘moon-bathing’ in the nude on her terrace. To give credit where credit is due, she was to play an equally important role in my imminent corruption.

Caroline gave me an appraising once-over. I was used to men looking: construction workers or the dads in the neighborhood who followed me with their eyes as they watered their lawns with leaky hoses. Those stares embarrassed me, but made my insides feel warm and tingly. From a girl, however, it felt more like a chilly finger sliding down my spine.

‘You’re right, M.B. But in my defense, she’s changed a lot since we were kids. She was always reciting some endless poem or waving around her straight­“A” report card so she could weasel a silver dollar from Grandpa. I thought she was revolting. But since the hormones have kicked in, I do see more of a family resemblance. She could use a little more up top though.’

‘You know what they say—more than a mouthful’s a waste,’ I said cheerfully.

Caroline studied me for a moment, then seemed to decide she would find me amusing. ‘You have changed, haven’t you? Well, make yourself at home in my boudoir, Cousin. Have some champagne.’ Caroline handed me the bottle. Apparently, the preferred method of consumption was swigging it down like soda pop. I took a swallow and immediately felt dizzy.

‘Tell me all about yourself, Lydia. Do you have a boyfriend?’ Marybeth asked, her eyes suddenly wide and innocent.

‘Yes.’

Harris and I were perfectly matched by the social standards of our high school: two smart kids comfortable enough with Shakespeare to play the fairy king and queen in the class production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. We read Stanislavsky together, sharpened our wit by mocking the popular kids behind their backs, and made plans to travel the world together. Not boring places like France or Hawaii, but heroic spiritual adventures like trekking in Nepal or purifying our souls under freezing waterfalls in the mountains of Japan. I knew none of this would give me much boyfriend credit with my present company, but at least I could say I had one.

‘Is he good in bed?’ That was my cousin.

I shrugged and took another gulp of the champagne. With the skill of expensive attorneys, the girls quickly established that Harris and I had had a few tepid make-out sessions in the five months we were together, and his date of choice was the ballet, when he could get cheap tickets.

‘Oh Lydia,’ Caroline said, shaking her head, ‘it’s very cool to have a gay guy as a friend, but I’m afraid he’s holding you back from your full potential. I mean, don’t you ever get the itch?’

I felt a blush rise on my cheeks. I did get a secret feeling down there now and then—OK, pretty much every night—and I knew exactly how to relieve it in my bed under the covers, but no torture could get me to divulge that secret. They did, however, get me to confess that I’d never had sex, even though I turned eighteen a few weeks before.

‘Lydia, I cannot allow you to go to college a virgin. The honor of our family is at stake.’

‘Besides, you’re too pretty to be a virgin,’ Marybeth drawled.

The champagne made another round, and Caroline patted the bed for me to sit down. ‘Marybeth and I can help you. We know a lot of foxy guys who’d be more than willing to be your first. We could have a party and you could pick the one you like.’

The idea was so absurd, I just grinned foolishly. They seemed to take my silence for agreement, however, because Marybeth reached over and pulled me back on the bed beside her. Caroline kept her perch at the edge of the bed, gazing down at us with a strange little smile.

‘We’ll take care of you,’ Marybeth cooed. She ran her fingertips over my forearm, as if she were stroking a kitten. Part of me wanted to jerk away, but to be honest, the champagne was making me horny and it felt nice. As I lay there, Caroline’s warm, soft bed seemed to suck me in even deeper. Could it really be that easy to get laid—throw a party, pick your favorite stud, and bye-bye virginity?

‘So what kind of refreshments will you serve for a lose-my-cherry party?’ I asked. ‘Lots of maraschinos and cherry pie?’

Caroline’s smirk stretched into a genuine smile. ‘That’s the spirit. But we’ll have to wait until spring break so we can invite the college boys. They generally know what they’re doing—like how to find the right hole—which is better for your first time. Who do you think will be best for Lydia, M.B.? How about Todd?’

Marybeth cringed. ‘He’s too big for the first time. Ouch!’

‘Sean? He’s the literary, sensitive type. Lydia might like him.’

‘I think Doug is the cutest.’

‘Mr. 69? He’ll be so busy eating her, he’ll forget to fuck her, and that’s the whole point. But some day you have to get together with him, Lydia. An experience not to be missed.’ She and Marybeth exchanged a private look. ‘He’ll want you to blow him, though. Do you know how?’

‘I think we’ve already established I’m clueless when it comes to sex.’ I was familiar with the concept of oral sex from discussions with my own friends, but whenever I heard the words ‘blow job,’ I couldn’t get beyond the image of huffing and puffing at some guy’s crotch as if I were blowing out birthday candles to make my wish come true. This was my chance to get some expert advice.

Marybeth nuzzled my shoulder. Her hair smelled of peaches, and her breasts pressed against my arm like hot little pillows. I felt sweat rise on my skin where we touched. ‘Oh, Cousin Lydia, you are too cute.’

Caroline narrowed her eyes. Her gaze was more like a guy’s now, all glittery and full of schemes I didn’t quite understand. ‘What do you say we give you a little blow job lesson tonight, Lydia?’

I laughed nervously. This was getting far too strange for an innocent virgin like me. But at the same time a small voice inside my head whispered—go ahead, do it, go along for the ride.

‘Sure, I guess so,’ I said, ‘but where are you going to get the penis?’

They both erupted in gales of laughter, but I rather liked making them laugh with me rather than at me.

Of course, I should have known such resourceful girls would have a handy substitute for the real thing. That’s how I found myself sitting at the edge of the bed with Marybeth kneeling before me, her lips wrapped around the base of my thumb.

I’d never felt anything like it before. Her mouth was warm and soft and liquid and my thumb seemed to float there. Next I felt a firm, undulating pressure along the bottom: her tongue. Then she began to move, squeezing with every stroke. I watched her top lip stretch out thin and smooth when she glided down, then grow full and pouty as she pulled back up, her cheeks hollow with the suction.

I giggled.

‘OK, your turn.’ Marybeth sat on the bed and presented her thumb to me. I glanced quickly at Caroline. She was watching us with great interest, as if she were challenging me to prove our bond of blood.

I knelt and tried my best to mimic Marybeth’s movements. Soon my jaw began to ache.

‘Good. Very good for the first time. I think you’re a natural.’

‘I just have to point out that most guys are bigger than your thumb, M.B.’

‘She’s doing great, it’ll translate,’ Marybeth insisted. ‘But, Lydia, you do have to remember each guy is different. What I do is pretend it’s my first time and ask him to teach me what feels good.’

My cousin snickered. ‘I’m sure they all fall for that line, M.B. By the way, are you going to tell Lydia about the grand finale?’

Marybeth nodded and proceeded to do exactly that.

‘In my mouth?’ I squealed.

Again they doubled over in laughter, but I was well past minding.

‘What does it taste like?’ I asked.

Marybeth cocked her head. ‘It’s hard to describe. Grass maybe. Warm, gooey grass.’

‘I’d say more like Clorox mixed with snot,’ Caroline said in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘But here’s the deal, Lydia. There are two kinds of women in this world. Those who swallow and those who don’t. Naturally, Marybeth and I do.’

‘You have to if you want to be the crème de la crème,’ Marybeth said, with a twinkle in her eye. ‘It’s worth it though, Lydia. It’s kind of pathetic how grateful they are. And if you swallow it quickly, you don’t even really taste it.’

I sat there in silence, taking it all in. I really did feel that I was standing at a crossroads in my life. One path led into the dewy morning sunlight where I would be the girl all the grown-ups thought I was—serious, pure of mind and body, safe and reliable. The other road was shadowy, hidden by curtains of moist foliage, fragrant with musk and intoxicating spices, the path of The Kind Who Swallowed.

‘Hey, Caroline,’ I said, ‘did you really mean it when you said you’d throw a party for me?’

‘I always mean what I say. Put it in your calendar—the first Saturday of spring break. I’ll take care of everything. You just come and pick out your favorite guy.’

‘What if no one wants to do it with me?’

Caroline shook her head. ‘Don’t worry about that. Guys are the real sluts, you know, no matter what they call us when they get mad. They’ll get it on with anyone, especially after a couple of beers. Not that you’re just anyone. You’re supposed to be my cousin, right?’

I smiled and took the last swallow of the champagne. ‘What if I want them all?’

Caroline gave a low, witchy laugh that almost made me like her. ‘You know, Lydia, I’m beginning to think we are related.’