“Jameson hasn't questioned me on the matter. Just because he is promiscuous does not mean I am going to be,” he assured her.
'Going to be'. So he has plans to lose it someday.
“Why have you waited so long?” she pressed, swinging around and sitting cross-legged style, facing him. He still refused to look at her.
“I ..., am uncomfortable. Around people, in general. Women, specifically. I am also a perfectionist. I don't like to rush into things,” he explained. She laughed.
“I guess that's good,” she chuckled.
“I am also strange. I am aware of this, I just don't care. But women do. I don't want it to be an issue, when the time comes. I want it to be ..., perfect,” he told her.
“Awww, that's kinda romantic,” Tate sighed.
“You're wrong. I don't mean perfect as in waiting for true love to come along. I mean perfect as in as soon as I have studied everything on the issue and am confident in my abilities,” Sanders clarified.
Oh my. He's going to study? For losing his virginity?
“You could hire somebody. I mean, I'm not saying that to be rude, just like ..., someone who has done it before, a lot. Someone who knows what they're doing,” she suggested quickly.
“I have thought of this. It is a very viable option.”
Someone who knows the ropes.
“Sandy,” Tate suddenly breathed, pushing herself to the edge of the bed.
“Hmmm?”
She stood up and walked towards him.
“I was seventeen when I lost my virginity,” she said softly.
“Yes, I know. Jameson has told me.”
“Did he tell you it was awful? It was with my first boyfriend, and I didn't even really like him. He was horrible in bed, but I didn't know that then, and he was horrible for a first time. I didn't know what I was doing, he didn't know what he was doing, and he didn't care. It was over before I even knew what was happening,” she told him. He frowned.
“See, that is what I am trying to avoid.”
“Jameson was the second person I ever had sex with, and he knew exactly what he was doing. It was so much better. The best thing ever,” she said. Sanders nodded.
“I'm sure. Sounds like a much better experience.”
“Sanders. I have a lot of experience.”
His eyes snapped to hers.
“Excuse me?”
She stood in front of him.
“I have a lot of experience. I've been told I'm pretty good at it. I like you. I want you to feel good. I would want it to be special,” she whispered. He held up a hand.
“No. No. The very idea is repug -,”
Tate put her hand on his mouth and straddled his legs. Sat down on his lap. Sanders stared at her, wide eyed. She almost laughed. He looked terrified. Sure, they were very close. They cuddled, slept next to each other, and he had seen her in many various stages of undress. But this was different. She was almost pressed against his chest, in a very intimate manner. She could feel, see, his breathing pick up.
“First of all, telling a woman she is 'repugnant', is a definite turn off,” she hold him. She let go of his mouth.
“You're not repugnant, the idea is. Please get off of me,” he urged, his arms hanging rigidly at his sides. She ran her hands up his chest. He was very solid and firm.
“Second of all, you should never look a gift horse in the mouth. Women are very fickle. One minute, you think you're getting laid. The next minute, she's yanking those panties up and stomping off. You should take it where you can get it,” she suggested. He squirmed under her weight.
“We can't do this.”
“We can do anything we want.”
“Jameson would kill me,” Sanders stressed, his eyes looking past her, at the wall. She dug her fingers into his shoulders.
“No, he wouldn't. He would probably congratulate you. Pat you on the back. Then you could swap stories,” Tate teased. Sanders shook his head.
“No. He would kill me. He loves me, but he loves you more,” he whispered.
Tate couldn't handle that, handle those words. She yanked him forward and kissed him.
She had actually kissed Sanders quite a few times. Always in a silly manner, just to make him blush, or to make Jameson laugh. Now, knowing what she knew, she felt awful. God, what if she had been his first kiss!? Had she ruined that for him!? Selfish, thoughtless bitch. She would make up for it.
She moved her hands up to cup his jaw, holding him gently. He hadn't moved. Hadn't kissed her back. She gave a soft moan, pressing her lips to his once again. Twice. On the third time, she traced the seam of his lips with her tongue. Knowing that she was the only one to have ever done so sent a shiver down her spine.
Sanders cracked. His arms went around her waist and he leaned into her, his tongue diving into her mouth. She gasped at the intensity of his kiss, almost slid backwards off his legs. His hands were flat against the back of her hips and he yanked her forward, forcing her flush against him.
Strong. He's so strong. Why do I never remember that?
It was over almost as quickly as it started. He got control of his breathing, pulled his mouth away from hers. She pressed her forehead to his, her hands still holding onto him. His fingers were digging into her hips, almost painfully. She panted against him, watching him. He cleared his throat, but kept his eyes closed.
“That was very nice, I'm sure,” he breathed. She chuckled.