“Do you like to kiss women?” I ask her.
“I don’t know, I’ve never tried” she says all chicky, she keeps dancing.
I stare at her, puzzled. I’ve never needed a proof I liked people of my same sex but I guess it’s different for everyone. I see myself stand up; I take her hand and lead her downstairs.
I think I fucking hate this room, it looks like a wannabe BDSM playroom but the final result is this cheap Ninety’s porn set. It doesn’t matter, come on, it’s dark anyway.
We start kissing and I just feel happy, I like this person, I always did, it’s a cool way to connect, I oddly think that I’ve always liked her voice. Someone else is here, I sense it, it’s that guy that I will date for a month or two afterwards, he’s a douchebag, much older than me, always shoving his age into girls’ faces to patronise them but cannot date his same age people because they would call his shit out. Why is he here? It is her that I want, I want her so badly... I want her so badly I decide to give it a go all together, of course ten years from then it would have been “sorry pal, we want some alone time”, but I am nineteen and silly.
I don’t know what’s going on, or I don’t remember, my brain tends to erase threesomes and foursomes. Because that’s what it is now, a foursome, because that Bowie boy joined us too but I would rather fuck his brain, even literally but please don’t take me anywhere close his dick, I really don’t feel like it. Of course we’ll fuck on some separate occasion again because back then I don’t know that it is not necessary to go sexual any time there is a mental connection... but you know that, you read “Boundaries”, didn’t you?
We are on the bed now and the older guy is fucking her and I am staring and I am jealous, he’s ruined everything and I am dissociating. Only eleven years later I will learn how to take my voyeur moment during an orgy without frying my brain on some other galaxy’s sun. This is literally how it feels right now. I am in it but it feels like something that’s happening to me, not something I am actively doing. I’d never thought that but I’m bored, and I hate sex in the dark.
I just want her skin against mine, I want to taste her and listen to her voice tell me stories after sex, smoking a cigarette and looking at the ceiling, I want to go down on her softly, slowly, until she opens her legs more and starts moaning. That’s not happening, someone else’s dick is in my face and I don’t want it; it’s not the dick, it’s the owner of the dick, the owners. I nonchalantly move the dick on the side. It’s not the dick’s fault after all, no need to be rude.
“That was fun but it was impossible to get to C.’s pussy cause your fingers would already be there, all the time” says the Bowie boy the next day as he’s picking me up from mine to go to a fucking shopping centre, and thank fuck it’s all a blurry memory of a mix of bodies at someone else’s house party. I’ll tell you about a good orgy one day but it is not this day.