Beautiful Confusion (New Adult Romance) Room 105 (13 page)

She shook her head. “It wasn’t like that with us. It was just raw, dirty sex. And then afterward, I was too upset for him to make it better.”

“You regretted it immediately?”

“Yeah, like instantaneously. I pushed him away and told him to fuck off, and he was like, ‘What did I do?’ Men can be so clueless.”

I didn’t think he was going to be clueless with me. If anything he would probably be too aware, thinking about what was wrong with me. “I want it to be raw and dirty,” I decided. “But I want him to hold me afterward. I want that part to be romantic.”

She grinned. “You want the best of both worlds, and on your very first time. You shameless hussy.”

“A girl can hope.” I drew my knees up, feeling young and wild and free. It was probably the liquor. Or maybe it was the talk of sex. Or the combination. Whatever it was, I was enjoying it.

“What about oral?” I asked.

“What about it?” she parroted.

“Do you like it?”

“Do I like what? Giving or receiving?”

“Both.”

Truthfully? Back then, I didn’t like either. I was shy about receiving and I wasn’t very good at giving.”

“I can’t imagine you being shy about anything.” I hoped that I wasn’t going to be shy if Duncan did it to me. I wanted everything to be just right.

“It was embarrassing, being sprawled out like that with my legs open.” She grabbed a decorative pillow and tugged on the tassels. “I felt like a moron when Martin went down on me for the first time.”

“You could never be a moron.” She was so honest, so real, so unlike me. I was keeping a horrible secret from her. I hoped someday that I could tell her the truth about myself. But more importantly, I hoped that she didn’t treat me like a leper because of it. I knew how creepy she thought mental illness was, but would she be more forgiving if she knew that a seemingly normal girl like me was struggling with it?

“I finally got good at giving,” she said.

I zapped back to the conversation. Oral sex. “Do you think I should do it to Duncan when we’re first together?”

“Have you ever done it before?”

I shook my head.

“Boy, you really are inexperienced. Even I’d given head before Martin. Shitty head, but still.”

“What makes it good?”

“Going deep. But using your hands with it, too. And making eye contact. Most guys love it when you look up at them, all starry-eyed, with their dick in your mouth.”

She showed me her blowjob expression and I pealed into a fit of laughter. It wasn’t the least bit sexy.

She laughed, too, and nearly spilled her drink. “I exaggerated that.”

“You think?”

“Well, at least you got the idea.”

“Right. So I can think of you making that face when I’m trying to do it?”

“Skip it the first time. It’s always better to leave a bit of mystery.”

I touched a finger to my lips. “How old were you the first time you gave head?”

“Fourteen. I was at a local party and there was this guy who crashed it that I thought was cute. He was a little older than I was, maybe fifteen or so. He didn’t live in my neighborhood. He was more of wrong-side-of-the-tracks type, and the rebel in him appealed to me. I don’t even remember his name. Kirk or Dirk or something.”

“What did he look like?”

“A bit like Martin, I suppose. I’ve always had a type, I guess, even before I met Martin.” She paused and pushed a hank of hair off her shoulder. “Anyway, lots of girls were flirting with Kirk or Dirk or whatever, so it was tough to get his attention.”

“What did you do to get him to notice you?”

“When he went outside to have a cigarette, I followed him. I pretended to be drunker than I was. I kept leaning on him like I was going to topple over. That seemed to do the trick because he ditched his cigarette and kissed me. Then he led me away from the patio and searched for a place on the property where there was no one around.”

I got a visual in my mind of what she was describing. A big fancy house. A vast yard. A needy girl and a take-advantage boy.

“We ended up on the ground, in the middle of these big, leafy bushes, kissing and rubbing against each other. Then he unzipped his pants and nudged me down. I think that’s how it happens for lots of girls. You just sort of get sucked into it.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Getting “sucked” into it was funny. After she realized what she’d said, she laughed, too.

Then I seriously asked, “How many of the girls on Duncan’s Facebook page has he slept with?”

“I have no idea. I don’t keep track of who he messes around with. I’ve never even met most of the girls on his page. The friends we have in common aren’t his fuck buddies. He keeps his hookups to himself.”

I prodded her for an estimate. “If you had to guess.”

“A lot, probably. But he’ll remember you the most. You’re going to be his first virgin.”

And his first schizophrenic. That didn’t bode well for me. “I’m getting nervous.”

“Why? Because of the girls on his page? Don’t let that intimidate you. You’re going to seduce Duncan like he’s never been seduced before.”

“I don’t even have any sexy lingerie.” I wasn’t equipped for the job.

“Then you’re going to have to get something. Are you free tomorrow? We can shop together, if you are.”

“I’d love that.” I needed all the help I could get. “I’m definitely free.”

“Cool. I know just the place for us to go.”

I figured that she would know where to shop. I suspected that she went through panties like popcorn.

“Do you want another one?” she asked.

I blinked, then realized she was talking about another margarita. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

“I’m having one more, but it will be my last. Otherwise, I’ll have to make another pitcher and get rip-roaring drunk all by myself.”

Rather than remain in the living room alone, I followed her into the kitchen so she could refill her glass. The mixture had gone watery, so she added more of the frozen elements and blended it again, making it icy.

“Are you sure you don’t want more?” she asked. “The last of it won’t be very strong, not with the way I just diluted it.”

She extended it to me, and I decided that another helping would be okay, especially if it was a weak solution.

Thank goodness she stuck to her guns and didn’t make another pitcher. I didn’t trust myself to not keep drinking, even if I knew better. I’d already exceeded my limit, and I needed to stay focused.

I had a big shopping day ahead of me tomorrow.

***

I woke up feeling anxious. I was in a strange house, in an unfamiliar bed and planning on buying underwear to seduce a guy who loved sex so much, he’d incorporated a sexuality symbol into his tattoos.

Lori pushed open my door and came into my room, wearing an oversized nightshirt and looking like Medusa. Her sleep-tousled hair was tangled around her shoulders like a swarm of snakes—like one big sexuality symbol.

Who was I kidding? I could never be as seductive as someone like her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I’m worried about pulling it off.”

She plopped onto my bed. “I thought we solved that last night.”

“We did.” I grabbed a pillow and hugged it to my chest. “But now I’m getting insecure again.”

“He’s just a guy.”

“Says the queen of Martin Madness.”

“Ha-ha!” She tugged the pillow away. “No more stalling. Come on, get your ass up.” She pulled me forward.

We went into the kitchen together, where last night’s dishes abided. She ignored them and brewed a pot of gourmet coffee. Since she wasn’t a breakfast eater, and I needed to coat my stomach, I drank a glass of milk and made a slice of toast. Afterward, I dashed into my bathroom to pop my pills, trying to keep myself sane.

After we were both dressed and ready, we climbed into her BMW and sped off. She was taking me to a lingerie shop that offered custom designs, as well as items straight off the rack.

“They have costumes, too,” she said.

“Like sexy maid outfits and stuff?”

She nodded, and we burst into a quick laugh. I wasn’t going to show up at Duncan’s loft in a costume. “Thanks for doing this for me.”

“Not a problem. That’s what friends are for.”

I smiled, glad that she’d called me a friend. “What do you think happened to Kirk or Dirk or whatever his name was?”

“I have no idea, but if I ever see him again, I’m going to tell him what a jerk he was.”

“Do you ever tell Martin that he’s a jerk?”

“All the time, but it never does any good.”

Because she kept letting him use her. “What type of family does Martin come from?”

“His parents are still married, and he has two younger brothers. His dad is a mechanic and his mom is a nurse. Martin works at his dad’s shop. He’s really close to his family. They seem happier than most people.”

I wouldn’t have predicted that type of home life, given Martin’s bad behavior. “What do you think the deal with Duncan is?”

“What do you mean?”

“When he was a kid. How do you think he ended up on the streets?”

“I don’t know. But if I were him, I would try to find out. And if I discovered that my family hurt me or threw me away or didn’t care about me, I would go gunning for them.”

“I wonder if his memory will ever come back.”

“I think he needs to see a shrink. A good therapist might help him remember. My mom is a firm believer in therapy. She gets help for all of her issues, no matter how petty they are.”

I’d probably had more therapy than anyone, only I couldn’t recall my sessions. I remembered Abby getting treatment, though. Everything about my sister was ingrained in my mind, along with the fear of what was going to happen the next time I went to The Manor to see her.

“Where’d you go?”

I started. “What?”

“You seem a million miles away.”

A trillion. A zillion. “I’m fine.”

“Good. Because we’re here.”

Sure enough, she was pulling into the cramped parking lot behind the store.

The salesgirls probably would have been snooty if I’d come here by myself, but with Lori as my companion, they fussed accordingly.

We scanned the racks. There was a lot to see, a lot to take in. Lori analyzed the colors that were available in the styles I liked. According to her, white was too bridal, yellow was too sunny, red was too flashy, and black was too sophisticated. Paisley, polka dots, and animal prints were out, too. Solid pink was what I should wear.

I agreed, especially when I uncovered an Italian lace boudoir bra and matching panties in a soft shade called cotton candy that Lori claimed would melt in Duncan’s mouth.

She came into the dressing room with me. I tried on the bra and did a happy dance in front of the mirror. It made my tiny boobs look scrumptious. The panties also appeared to be a phenomenal fit, at least as far as I could tell. I had to try them on over my other underwear.

She grinned. “You need to get that set. It’s just what a newbie seductress needs.”

I danced another jig. “I can’t believe I found something so quickly and easily.” I caught my breath. “I hope Duncan likes it.”

“Are you kidding? His eyes are going to pop out of his head when he sees you.”

“I thought I was going to blow his socks off.” I repeated her phrase from last night.

She shrugged and angled her head, studying my full frame. “You should wear some thigh-high stockings, too.”

“That won’t be too much?”

“I think it will add just the right amount of fuck-me flair. He’ll know you mean business if you wear thigh-highs. It’ll be perfect.”

It did seem perfect, and even if I got scared when the time came, I wasn’t going to back out. I was going to forge ahead and get my pretty pink cherry popped.

By the man of my cosmic dreams.

To keep the week from ticking by so slowly, I did everything I could to keep busy. I worked, I watched TV, I read, I took pictures of myself for my Facebook profile. Finally, after several days and dozens of shots, I settled on one with my hair falling in wild disarray. I thought it looked artsy and windblown and mysterious, with my eyes peeking out from behind the blondeness.

The Facebook thing took up a lot of time, because after Duncan accepted my friend request and I had access to his wall, I spent countless hours researching the girls on his page and trying to figure out which ones he’d slept with. Some had public settings, where anyone could see their posts and pictures. But some didn’t, and they were the ones who bothered me the most.

But I had to stop worrying about his previous lovers because I was on the fast track to becoming his current lover. Lori had gotten Duncan to commit to a meeting with her on Friday night, when she was supposed to go to his loft so he could help her with some sketches for school. The funny part was that he’d asked me if I wanted to go out on Saturday afternoon. Lori and I thought it would work out beautifully because I could sleep at his house on Friday and remain with him on Saturday since he was planning on seeing me anyway.

So now, as I sat in my room on Thursday, just one day from the big event, I prayed that it didn’t blow up in my face. If Duncan played the gentleman and turned me down, I would be left in an emotional lurch.

I needed to feel free and beautiful, like the picture I’d posted on Facebook. The picture was a lie, of course. No one who saw it would know that I was a tormented girl trapped in a schizophrenic’s mind. No one except Duncan.

I wished he didn’t know, either.

I rocked in my chair, staring at my computer screen. There were lots of disturbed people out there, like the catfish types who created fake profiles and pretended to be something they weren’t. But me, I was worse than them. I’d created a whole other person.

A sister named Abby.

I felt so damned guilty for not going to see her. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t real because to me she still felt real. I loved her, and I knew that she loved me, too.

Was she missing me? Wondering why I was avoiding her? For her sake, I hoped that her people were hanging around, keeping her company and making her smile.