//My first love. My first beginning. My first ending. My first scar. My first...//
The room was dim, almost lifeless. I suppose I had expected something more seductive—moody blue lights and tangled limbs, like the scenes they glorify in movies. But reality, especially when you're broke and craving anonymity, offers no cinematic ambiance.
We both knew the purpose of this date. Or at least, the app had made it crystal clear.
I glanced at him, the stranger, and sank onto the bed.
"Are you sure you're eighteen?" he asked, his voice a deep murmur, laced with suspicion but veiled in warmth. His veiny hand lifted my chin, steady, searching.
I couldn't speak the truth.
My eyes had been on his lips since we met. I wanted them on my neck, on my skin, everywhere. So I nodded.
He smiled—just once—and then devoured my mouth like he was starved. His lips were soft, with the faint taste of cherries, and I kissed him back hungrily. His tongue swirled against mine, and our breaths tangled.
Things escalated, fast.
My fingers trailed along the curve of his back, desperate for more. He took my hand and guided it to his chest. I held him tighter, needing to feel something real.
His fingers ghosted over the hem of my shirt, then slipped beneath it, leaving trails of fire on my skin. I shivered under his touch.
Soon, my shirt was gone. I sat there, still in my bra, as he pulled his own shirt off. His torso was sculpted—like something carved out of desire. I traced his abs with trembling fingers, the texture surreal.
Then, with effortless ease, he unhooked my bra. I blushed, but my longing overpowered my shame.
He gazed at my breasts before taking one into his mouth. I arched my back as his tongue explored me, switching from one to the other with reverence. I ran my fingers through his hair, and he groaned, moving lower.
He placed me down gently, still devoted to every inch of skin. His lips wandered to my belly button, then lower. His fingers slipped beneath my panties, slowly removing them. He paused, taking me in like I was art.
He studied my expression.
"This your first time?" he whispered.
I couldn't speak. I simply nodded.
His fingers found me, soft and slow, and pleasure bloomed like a secret unfolding.
He reached for a condom, slid it on, and entered me carefully. There was pain, but there was also a strange sort of beauty in it. He picked up the pace, and I surrendered to it.
We climaxed together, breathless.
Then… silence.
He lay beside me, and I reached for his arm, wanting something to anchor me.
But he stopped me, lightly pressing my forehead with his finger. "No strings attached," he said. "I'm doing this because I don't know you—and I don't want to."
It stung more than I let on. I wasn't seeking a relationship. But affection? God, I needed that. Just someone to hold me for a little while.
He got dressed, kissed me one last time, and left.
And that was it.
I was proud that I'd "popped the cherry," but... was that all? It felt hollow. Incomplete.
I turned over, tried to sleep—but I missed the weight of an arm beneath my head. I missed a voice that might've sung me to sleep. I missed fingers in my hair... eyes on my soul.
I missed him.
The Next Day
Fucking a stranger is easy. High school? Now that's terrifying.
I walked through the corridor, invisible yet somehow always watched. Whispers trailed behind me. The hallway stretched on endlessly, a tunnel of judgment.
I found my seat in class. A new guy sat in front of me. Something about him seemed... kind. Maybe I'd say hello.
I tapped his shoulder. He turned with a shy smile.
"Hi, I'm Bianca."
"I'm Fin."
"So... you're new?"
"Yeah. I was homeschooled before this. Thank god someone talked to me—I was getting so nervous."
I laughed. His honesty was oddly refreshing. High school is terrible, at least for me.
Then Principal Morris entered, his voice commanding attention.
"Class, your homeroom teacher, Ms. Jerry, is on maternity leave. Please welcome your new substitute."
I turned.
And froze.
It was him. The motel guy.
He looked equally stunned.
Shit. I lied about my age.
This... is going to get messy.