‘What made it so good?’, he asked.
She threw her curls back behind her shoulders.
‘Made what good?’
‘The sex. You said the surfer guy was really good in bed. What made it so good?
‘Ooo, that you mean’, she said as if it was the last subject he could possibly be interested in. To his dismay she jumped off the bed. ‘Wait, I’m going to close the window. It’s getting a bit chilly, don’t you think?’
For the first time he noticed that she had drawn the curtains closed, but had left the window open. He became aware of the street below. A street where no cars were allowed, but all the more students were allowed free reign. It was like a gay parade down there, but for mostly straight students.
She stepped back on the bed. He noticed that she had long, slender feet. Her toe nails weren’t painted. He liked that, but wondered what they would look like covered in reddish toe polish.
‘Do you mind?’, she asked, as she started pulling the covers from under him. He stood up, so she could pull the covers from the bed more easily. She moved with her back against the wall and huddled in the covers. There was something written on them. Something with the words ‘dream’ and ‘courage’ in it.
‘You can come sit next to me if you like. It’s cold.’
His heart beat went up to 120, at least, but he mumbled ‘ok’ and kicked out his shoes, very aware of the fact that he was avoiding eye contact right now.
Once under the covers with his back against the cold wall he made sure their flanks were touching. She didn’t pull back. He figured she was the kind of girl that’s quick to touch anybody. Didn’t have to mean anything. Fear of rejection waved over him more violently the closer he came to making a move.
‘So, you want to hear about my encounter with the sex God, do you?’
It didn’t help that he was competing against a sex God.
‘I think I’ll need more wine to fully take in your very promising account’, he said.
What he really meant though was that he wanted her to drink a lot more wine.
Still, to finally loosen up and stop being so damn self conscious he himself would require at least five extra cups of Boyar courage.
As she reached out and down to grab the bottle of wine off the ground he took heart from the fact that all through her athletics their flanks kept touching.
From those innocent twenty something square centimeters of her body he could feel below the covers he could tell the wildness of the young, vibrant life pulsating through her.
The wine started tasting like rejuvenating blood.
She relaxed back against the wall with a full cup and finally said: ‘So, imagine a white chocolate sort of beach and it’s so maddeningly hot everybody is running around in their underwear, only it’s called beach wear. Imagine your hormones are bouncing turtles boiling in your veins. You are a zilion miles from home. And you’re leaving in three days. You’ve just seen one of the most attractive people you’ve ever come across. It’s now or never, right?’
His balls started aching.