Firefighter's Virgin

I nodded, feeling my heart rate finally beginning to slow down. There was an aching longing between my legs, and I wanted to just jump on him, but there was no way I was going to do something like that. “I know,” I said. “And trust me—I wasn’t expecting any of that to happen, either.”

“But it did.”

“It did.”

“And it was very good. More than that, actually. So don’t go getting all insecure or feeling weird about why we didn’t happen to go all the way today, all right? Because that has nothing to do with it.”

“Okay,” I said, though it was a little hard to believe. If he was really that interested, wouldn’t he have wanted to have sex right now? “That’s fine. I . . . I’m actually a virgin.”

I didn’t know why I said it; was it supposed to be like, I’ve waited this long already, I can continue to wait? Because that seemed kind of silly. And the way I was feeling right now, I didn’t know if I could wait, but obviously, I was going to have to.

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re a virgin?”

“Yes,” I said. The way he said it, it was as if he thought I was lying. “Is that really so hard to believe?”

“I’ve heard—” He stopped and shook his head. “No,” he said. “Well, yes, in a way. How old are you? Twenty-five?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Wow. That’s pretty impressive. Most girls your age have gotten laid at least a few times. In my experience, anyway.”

“Do you have much experience with women in their early twenties?” Did I really just say that?

“As a matter of fact,” he said, “I do. And, believe it or not, at one point I, too, was in my early twenties.”

“I bet you were.”

Had he put something in that drink I’d had when we first set out? Some sort of confidence boosting concoction? It had just been a bottle of water, but maybe there was something that was odorless, tasteless. Because I could not ever remember flirting with a guy like this before, and feeling totally comfortable and excited about doing it—if I hadn’t had a little alcohol first. Maybe it was just the warm sun and the salt air and the fact that I was having more fun that I could ever remember having in a long time.

“It’s not that I haven’t had any sexual encounters . . . I’ve had a few of those. I just haven’t had sex.”

“Have you ever given a blowjob?”

I felt my face flush. “No.”

“Ever had a guy go down on you?”

I turned even redder. “Um, no.”

“No?”

“Well, one guy tried but . . . it was too weird. Also, it tickled.”

Ian smiled. “Is that so.”

“Yeah.” That had been Emmett, the guy I’d been with in high school. I barely even remembered it now, though I could recall laughing because it really did tickle, which of course he took personally and refused to talk to me for the next two days. “It was a boyfriend way back when.”

“So you have had a boyfriend. And he didn’t try to sleep with you? I find that really hard to believe.”

“He was a nice guy.”

Ian raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying that I’m not?”

“No, but you two are very different. He was a writer, and more important to him than a girlfriend or even sex was his writing. Our physical relationship always took a backseat to that.”

“You were like his muse. I can see that.”

“I’m a writer, too, you know.”