Seven years, to be exact. We're both a little older, and a little wiser. Or so I assume. Eh, no matter. We had been in contact on and off for the seven years between the time that we broke up and spent that weekend together. I still tingle thinking about that weekend.
I never married. A woman who has to fight her way through law school and then fight her way to the near top of a law firm doesn't have time for such trivialities as husbands and families. I dated, had some awful casual sex, but that was pretty much it. For seven years.
He got married a year after we broke up, and then a year after that, he was a father. I got letters and pictures from time to time, and I basically had the family life vicariously through him. That was enough for me. I acted as if I was completely shocked when he told me he was getting a divorce, but I really wasn't. I hate to be a bitch, but honestly, rebound relationships are doomed to fail. As a general rule, one doesn't think straight after a break up with a significant other, especially after the incredibly intense relationship that we shared. My mother always said that you shouldn't hop from one bed to another. I always took that to mean that you shouldn't run out and get into another relationship when the old one fails. She probably meant that you shouldn't sleep around. No matter.
It happened that I was going on a business trip to Atlanta, and naturally, I called him to see if he wanted to get dinner and catch up. I hadn't been to Atlanta in seven years. I left Georgia when I went into law school and pretty much never looked back. I was comforted by the fact that I'd be seeing my home city again, even though I hadn't had the urge to take a non-business trip down there since I left.
As the plane touched down at Atlanta International, a sudden panic descended upon me. I started imagining the two of us spending the entire night in an awkward silence, too afraid to speak as friends. We had so little contact, outside of a few letters and e-mails, in the past seven years, and we both did so much growing. I realized that I had no idea who I would be greeting at the gate.
He was right there, close to the front of the crowd when I stepped off the plane. I chuckled to myself. He was always so reliable. What amazed me the most was that I could recognize him. I had seen recent pictures of him, but I was worried that I wouldn't be able to find him. People can really change in seven years. I supposed having a history with this man helped. I didn't really believe in magic anymore, but I supposed that I could have picked him out of a crowd of Jeffrey look-alikes if I had to.
"Hi," I said, nervously.
"Hi," he said, hugging me immediately. He wasn't shy. "Do you have another bag?" he said, taking my backpack and briefcase immediately.
"Yes, just one," I said, and he looked a little startled.
"You lost your accent."
"Give me an hour or so. I'll start dropping my gerunds like normal folk again," I said, teasing him. He chuckled.
"I reckon," he said, teasing me. "Are you hungry?"
"Starved," I said.
"What time do you have to check into your hotel?"
"Whenever I get there," I said. "We can grab a bite first, if you have time for that."
"Sure," he said.
"Thanks for coming to get me. You really didn't have to put yourself out," I said.
"It didn't put me out," he said. "Jared is with his mom for the weekend, so I'm happy to be out of the house."
"How is the little tyke?" I said.
"Amazing. He wasn't gone ten minutes and I was already missing him," he said. "He is so smart. He said, 'Daddy, if you feel lonely, you can call me.' I have no idea what brought that on; he just said it out of the blue before he left."
"That's so sweet," I said. "Well, you did tell me once that he was a sensitive kid."
"He is. His teacher told me that some older kids were picking on one of his classmates, and he stood up to them! And they were twice his size! I never remembering having that much courage when I was six."
It was a wonder hearing Jeff talk about his little boy. His whole face lit up and he seemed truly happy. I was truly happy for him, also. The divorce was a bit of a sticky one, and the custody battle was particularly difficult on him. At least that's what I could glean from his letters. I could tell he held back a lot from me, mostly because it was strange for him to continue any kind of friendship with an ex-girlfriend. I think, had he still been married, he wouldn't have agreed to have dinner with me. I couldn't tell if it was a male thing or a southern male thing, but 'platonic' seemed to not be in their vocabulary. I can't say, mostly because I have had little experience, outside of sexual, with men and particularly southern men.
I met Jeff in college, and he was only my second boyfriend. My first boyfriend was in high school, and he was a bit of a loser, truth be told. It was also back in my naive days when I thought that if someone touched my breasts, I'd go to hell. Naturally, all that my first boyfriend wanted to do was touch my breasts. You see the dilemma.
So I went to college, and I met Jeff. We started out as friends. As our friendship developed, I started to discover some startling things about my sexuality. First, I discovered masturbation. I had a very wild roommate that year, my sophomore year, and even though she looked conservative, she was into some crazy stuff. She gave me my first vibrator.
I thought it was a joke, originally. Of course, one night, when I was particularly stressed out from studying and a good workout at the gym didn't help, I thought I'd give the vibrator a try. My roommate was out doing God-knows-what, so I knew I would have the place to myself at least for a few hours, if not for the entire night. I locked the door, turned out the light, and stripped. It felt strange, but exhilarating, being naked in my room. I usually went quickly from one set of clothes to another, and my only other purposeful nakedness happened when I took a shower. When I was taking a shower, I usually had a million other things on my mind. Of course, I couldn't stand naked in the middle of the room for too long without starting to feel uncomfortable.
I crawled into bed. The cool sheets felt wonderful against my skin. I suddenly understood, at that moment, why my roommate insisted on sleeping naked. From that moment on, I never wore a stitch of clothing to bed, unless, of course, I was visiting my parents.
I twisted the vibrator on, and it started to buzz. I giggled. I felt too silly. I was nineteen years old, and I had never used a vibrator in my life.
I lay on my back and put the vibrator between my legs. At first, nothing happened. It was almost like getting a massage. It felt good, but not terribly erotic. Then, all of a sudden, BAM! I was twisting, moaning, and gasping for breath. I had to keep readjusting my position and changing hands because I kept losing the spot that sent tingles all over my body. I could feel the tension building in my body and I wanted to go further even though I had no idea where I was headed.
My toes curled and I let out a short gasp as I came to a climax. I had to put a pillow over my face because I started to moan loudly as my yoni throbbed. I turned off my vibrator and lay there, in utter bliss, until I fell into a peaceful sleep.
After that first night, I was hooked. Meanwhile, something was developing between Jeff and I that could almost be considered romantic. Some of it came from my desire to be with a man. The other part, naturally, came from him. I wasn't his first girlfriend, but I knew that he found me attractive. I actually found out by accident when we were playing putt-putt golf. He was standing behind me, showing me how to swing, and he happened to brush up against me at a moment when he happened to have an erection.
So he did finally ask me out on a date. Had I been bolder, I would have asked him, and much sooner. At any rate, I was running around like mad trying to find my make up, some jewelry, something nice to wear.
"Can I borrow those dangly-pearl earrings from you?"
"Sure," my roommate said, "in the top drawer of my dresser," she added with a wave of her hands.
I opened the drawer, and right in plain site where condoms, a vibrator, and a paddle. I just stared for a full minute. What the heck would she need a paddle for? I got the condoms and the vibrator, but a paddle?
"Can't find them?" she said. "Or are you gawking at my toys?"
"T-toys?" I said.
"Yeah," she said, getting up. "These here. These are condoms. They go on a man's penis so you won't get pregnant when you have sex."
"I know what condoms are," I said, emphatically.
"This is a vibrator," she said. "You had better know what this is for by now. I didn't give you one as a Thanksgiving present for nothing."
"Yes, I know what vibrators are for," I said, turning very red.
"And this is a cutting board," she said, laughing. "I'm just kidding. This is a paddle."
"I can see that. And that qualifies as a toy because..."
"I like to be spanked."
"You what now?"
"I like to be spanked. It's fun, and it really gets me going."
"I don't get it."
"Many don't," she said, putting the paddle away.
"Doesn't it hurt?"
"That's the point," she said, handing me the earrings. "Allison, there's a whole lot more to sex than just laying on your back while he gets off."
"Does everyone like that?" I said, nervously.
"No, not everyone. Some really aren't interested and some are interested but are just afraid to admit it to themselves or anyone else for that matter."
"How did you know you were interested?"
"I've known for forever. It was particularly obvious when I was a teenager," she said. "I used to talk my boyfriends into taking me over their knee. You can really talk men into anything," she said.
Suddenly, there was a knock on our door.
"I'm so not ready!" I said, in a panic.
"No problem," she said, "I'll get it."
I ran around the room getting ready, feeling completely flustered by what felt like a bomb. I was even more flustered by my complete fascination with her talking about her high school boyfriends "taking her over their knee."
So I thought going out for the night would be a good distraction, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. Jeff, who was (and I'll wager still is) sensitive, picked up on something being wrong right away. He said something at dinner.
"You seem flustered. Was the movie okay?"
"Yes, the movie was fine. I liked it. I just have a bunch of stuff on my mind," I said, turning bright red.
"Obviously embarrassing stuff. Okay, spill," he said.
"No way. This is way too embarrassing."
"I've told you tons of embarrassing stuff," he said, "besides, nothing can surprise me anymore. Not after you told me that you have a vibrator named Mr. Happy."
I started laughing and I couldn't stop. I did tell him that, but it had been a joke at the time. Although Mr. Happy was an accurate name.
"I don't know," I said. "It's kind of something my roommate told me and it's kind of her business although she doesn't seem necessarily shy about it."
"No offense, but your roommate doesn't seem necessarily shy about anything."
"Well," I said. He was my best friend at the time, and this was weighing heavy on my mind, otherwise I wouldn't have said anything. "She likes to be spanked," I whispered, looking around to be sure that no one heard me.
"So I've finally met someone who's into that," he said.
"You know about it?" I said, surprised.
"Not from personal experience, but I've read about it," he said, quietly. "Penthouse has these books with letters from readers in them, and there's one or two that have that in them."
"Really?" I said, quietly.
"It's- interesting," he said, turning red.
"Do you mind-, I mean, could I-, do you have-,"
I couldn't even say it. I was so shy about sexual things at that time.
"I have one of the books," he said, quietly. "Yes, I'll lend it to you."
I could actually relax for the rest of the night. Before he took me back to my dorm, we went to his and he gave me the book. When he dropped me at my dorm, he left me with a kiss on my cheek. He was such a gentleman. Of course, what I really wanted at the moment, although it wasn't conscious, was for him to take me to bed.
My roommate was asleep when I got in, surprisingly. I crawled into bed with my small flashlight and started to read because I was still wound up from the night. My heart pounded as I began to read a story, written by a woman, about how she got her husband to spank her. I felt dirty and aroused and disturbed and excited all at the same time. I wasn't sure if I should even be interested in things like this, but I was. There was no getting around it. From the moment that I saw my roommate's paddle, I had begun to realize that I was curious about a lot of things that I thought I shouldn't have been curious about.
I fell asleep crying and masturbating at the same time. I wanted to stop feeling dirty and aroused at the same time and just feel normal.
"Are you feeling okay?" my roommate said the next day, when I snapped at her for something dumb. (I tripped over one of her shoes.)
"Not really."
"So talk."
"I can't."
"Sure you can."
"Jeff lent me this book," I said, showing her. "And I liked it."
"So what's the problem?"
"I feel dirty."
"Did what I told you last night turn you on?"
"No! Yes," I said. "I don't know."
"There's nothing wrong with you if you like it," she said, simply.
"Of course there's something wrong with me," I said, angrily.
"What? Nice girls don't get spanked?"
"Well, yes," I said, flustered. "It's a little-,"
"Perverted?"
"I didn't say that!"
"No, I said it for you because you're too nice. I understand why you're resistant. I'm sure the last time you were spanked; it was not a pleasant experience. It was probably because you did something wrong. This is completely different. Okay, well, it feels just about the same pain-wise, but first of all, you're asking for it, consenting, and second of all, you pretty much call the shots. When Daddy spanked you, Daddy decided when your punishment was over. When Jeff spanks you, you get to decide if you've had enough. Of course, I think Jeff knows you well enough to be sensitive to when you've had enough," she said.
"I still think there's something wrong with me."
"Is there something wrong with me?"
"No, but you're different."
"Allison, you're making no sense. If there is something wrong with you because you're curious about play spanking in a sexual relationship, then there's something wrong with me for liking it."
I started to cry.
"I don't want to feel dirty."
She hugged me. "Give yourself a little time. When you work it all out, I guarantee that you won't feel dirty anymore."
"What are you thinking about?" Jeff said.