Commissioning His Virgin (Club Lush)

Chapter One - Gina

It was a typical Friday. The sun shone brightly. Dust hung over the walkways and floated in the area, dust brewed by the factory that stood near my university. I have to say, I hated that factory. Their machines or whatever they were using over there always seemed to get louder whenever I had an exam coming up. One time I felt so furious, I had to go over there to give them a piece of my mind. I yelled at a couple of security guards at best, but that’s a story for another time.

On this day, I was a little frustrated and sad, and I have to admit, a tad bit jealous. It was a few minutes past noon, I was done with my classes for the week. I walked towards my car, drove off, and headed for the local tavern for a quick drink. Where I lived mainly consisted of several stores, low-level diners, a police station, and the local university where I was an art student. There was a bar at every turn — an upside for most students.

It was not typical of me, but today my heart was a little heavy with emotions. A glass of Scotch whiskey sounded therapeutic. I parked my car on the street, eased myself into the bar, taking a seat right by the counter. There wasn’t anyone else in the bar at the time, something I thought was perfect.

The bartender, who I had never met before, walked right over. I could tell he sensed something was wrong. In many movies I had watched, bartenders had this superpower where they could look right through you, see into your soul. I guess that was the case with this one.

“Long day?” the bartender finally asked.

“Yep,” I responded in a quivering voice, trying my best to keep my nerves in check. “Can I have a glass of Scotch whiskey, please?” I asked politely.

“The first one’s on the house,” the bartender said to me as he handed me a glassful.

I took the glass, nodded at the bartender as a sign of thanks, gulped down the whiskey, and slammed the glass on the counter, just like the movies had taught me. I had tried my best to avoid eye contact with the bartender, but from the corner of my eye, I couldn’t tell if he was concerned or just curious. He knew best not to engage me and kept at drying glasses without speaking.

I sat there in silence, reminiscing on how fast time had flown. Just the other day, Carrie and I moved into our apartment. Two quirky, weird-looking, but super smart girls ready to take the world by storm. I couldn’t believe she was about to get married. Well, he was a lucky man.

Carrie, I had grown to co-exist together. Coming from different parts of the country, we were complete strangers, but we were forced to rely on each other for many things as time went by. We were like a team, complementing each other, being there for one another.

It wasn’t until I had gulped the second glass that it hit me. I was twenty-one, I wasn’t pleased with my life. I was especially not happy with being broke. Nothing was interesting about my time. I spent most of my days following routines, going to and from my shared apartment with Carrie to school, occasionally helping out at Mr. Green’s Diner during the weekends. Anything out of the routine often didn’t interest me. But the truth was, I couldn’t afford to do what I really wanted to do—to practice my craft as an artist.

At my age, I at least expected life would be easy. All I had to worry about was school and boys, but deep down in my heart, I always knew I was destined for so much more. To make things worse, I was still a virgin because I cared so little about men. I once wondered if, deep down, I was interested in girls, but I found nothing when I searched deeper within myself.

As far as my memory serves me, there wasn’t a single moment in my life when I dated a boy. Except for maybe Jake, a weird-looking kid from when I was six years old, who brought me a rose flower once. Would that even be considered a date? Most people with real love lives would probably not remember a moment from when they were six years old.

Life in my hometown had its disadvantages. One of them was that everyone knew everyone; this made me shy to interact with people, especially boys. So, yes, I lacked experience.

I had never really taken an interest in the boys at school. Despite their advances on me, the thought of being with one made me blush. I turned down most boys from my class, not for any specific reason but simply because I didn’t think I was beautiful enough.