The Space Between Us | L.S

The Others

If there was a graph of the men I would have sex with it in my life; it would be static until I was twenty, be pretty steady from 21, at 22 it had a short peak with that one time with Louis and then rapid incline at 23.

The first was a man named Paul Deyes. We sat next to each other in our Classical Theoretical Practice 3 class. What the course material lacked in sex-appeal made up for in difficulty so when Paul asked if I wanted to study with him one cold January evening, I jumped at the chance. Paul wasn't someone I would usually be attracted too, quite honestly I don't know if I ever was sexually attracted to him but as romantic as it was, he was there. He was good-looking but in the most boring wrong. The man wore cardigans more than I did.

Jonas had been down my throat with his mantra "The best way to get over someone is to get under them." So as Paul was drowning me in 'Conservation law' flashcards, I blurted out, "Do you want to take this back to my flat?" His eyes widened largely at my suggestions and he sputtered out some sort of consent and soon enough I was lying on my back with his sweaty body on top of me.

The best way to describe it was okay. A solid B-. I mean the man didn't even take his pants fully off.

It was honestly like some weird documentary about two Christians having sex for the first time. "Is this okay? Is it alright if I do this? Can I touch you here?" I am all for consent of course but there is truly nothing less-sexy than having to roadmap your way through sex.

We had sex a total of four times throughout the quarter. I worked up the nerve to ask him to be a bit rougher for the first three. At first, I was ashamed, I never had to ask with Louis, he just did things and I thoroughly enjoyed them. I also tried to convince myself that I didn't enjoy those things, telling myself over and over again that I only like dirty talk and rough sex because it was my first time and I didn't know any better but mid-fuck when he asked me once again, "Can I touch your boob?" I practically lost it and blurted out "Just take me, Paul. Don't ask just do it."

"I can't do that." He almost scoffed out. "What if you don't like it?"

"We won't know until we try." I rolled him off me, sitting up on my knees. "What's a kink of yours?" His face pinked a bit.

"Not too sure, I mean I like blowjobs?"

"No! No, I mean like do you like being tied up or choking or any role play. I am open to almost anything I just need to do something else, please."

He said he would get back to me, and three days later he told me he's always wanted a girl to dress up in a schoolgirl outfit. So there I laid on my bed in my secondary school uniform, trying to wave away the pressing memories of how awful school was while he just gawkily eyed at me.

"Can I touch you here?" He asked, and I groaned loudly throwing a pillow over my head to muffle my disarray.

That was the last time we had sex.

Dan was next, or was his name, Damon? Damien? Something with a D. We didn't have sex but he finger fucked me in the bathroom at Rouges. It was like two jackhammers inserting into me at a really random pace. One second it was fast, and the next it was like he was taking a break mid-way in my vagina. It wasn't my highest moment and I am definitely aware that if Heaven is real, this will be the clip they show me before they pull the lever, dropping me to the pits of hell. That morning, I had just finished class and decided, 'hey let's walk home today' it was a surprisingly mild February afternoon, but I was rounding the corner, almost to my flat, I saw Louis in the distance. He had his hand placed securely on some girl's waist. Rhiannon? I practically flung my body into a doorway of an antique shop and waited until they crossed the street into a quaint little café. I tried to force my legs to move, but it was as if they were sinking further into the cement; and my eyes were acting as if I've never blinked in my life. I watched through the glass window as they leaned down, analyzing the assortment of baked goods in the display. She said something that made him laugh, and I wished at that moment I was closer so I could see just one more time the cluster of lines that form near his eyes when he laughs. When they began looking for a seat, I dashed down the street; realizing I would have to move cities if he saw me gawking at him from across the street.