April 17, 2017 - 9:56 a.m.






"You better put on a condom."

"...why? You don't have cooties, do you?"

"No, but I don't want a fucking baby."

"Come on...I'm always really careful."

"I don't care. It's not your body. You wouldn't have to deal with the aftermath."

He was silent, petulant. He grabbed my wrists and pinned them over my head, pressing his mouth to mine.

I closed my thighs just enough to force his hips away from mine.

He chuckled into my mouth, a rueful sound. I pressed my lips together.

His hands tightened.

Deep in my chest, a tiny spark of fear ignited.

What would happen if he decided to ignore my wishes? We were about the same size, but he was far more athletic than me.

He tried angling his hips to get past the pressure of my thighs.

He kissed down my throat, ignored my breasts. His hands didn't let up, and neither did the pressure of my thighs.

Finally he heaved a heavy sigh, and dragged his body off mine.

"What if I said I didn't have any?" he tried.

"Then I'd tell you I have some in my purse," I said, getting pretty tired of his bullshit.

"Rosie!" he gasped in mock horror. It was too dark for him to see me roll my eyes.

"Women are allowed to enjoy sex, you know," I told him as I heard the foil package rip.

"Well, yeah, I know," he says, but my patience is wearing thin. Honestly, I'd rather go to sleep, but we'd gotten this far.

I let him climb back on, and move my body to a position he likes. I slide a hand between our bodies, just to make sure he's put a condom on, and he has.

I make all the appropriate noises, make enthusiastic motions, hoping if I'll hit the right combo, he'll orgasm and fall asleep.

It takes a while, but finally he finishes. I don't. But it doesn't matter. I'm finished, anyway.


In the thin late morning light, I slide into my car, and back out of his driveway.

I feel adrift. I feel like a fish tossed back into the river.

I feel wet and bruised, like a peach someone has pushed their thumb into.

I feel...okay.

I feel okay.