"Chastity...the most unnatural of all the sexual perversions."
Aldous Huxley

She’s awakened by his snoring; for a brief moment confusion clouds her mind and then she looks at the man sleeping beside her. The night before comes rushing back to her and she shudders. Carefully she untangles herself from his arms and the blankets. As she slips out of the bed she feels stickiness between her legs; there’s blood on her thighs and the once pristine white sheets. She quickly tiptoes towards the door and slowly turns the knob. She looks back towards the bed and tastes salt on her lips. She creeps out of the room and the door closes with a deafening click.


She sees him from the corner of her eye and she lifts her gaze from the rim of the glass in front of her lips.

‘Him’ she thinks to herself. His gaze shifts towards her, hazel eyes meet chocolate brown; she smiles coyly as she turns and walks out of the crowded room. She takes the stairs to the bathroom and checks herself in the mirror. Smokey lids and shiny lips, straight hair and smooth flesh; he doesn’t stand a chance. As she walks back towards the bar, she passes him and feels his eyes watch her as she moves towards her friends. She whispers into a girlfriend’s ear, making her laugh:

“Go for it!”

She winks at her friend but turns toward another guy in the group and begins to flirt unabashedly with the young man. She keeps her eyes on the one she’s interested in.

He watches her from across the room, wondering how he’s going to get her away from the baby-faced lad she’s with. He knows she’s interested; he also knows that she’s making the rules in this game they’re playing, so he bides his time waiting for an opportunity to get her alone. He’s going to take her to bed; he’s already made up his mind about that, the only question is how to get her there. And then suddenly the boy she’s with turns away from her for a moment and she leans back, elbows on the bar, and looks straight at him, issuing a challenge. It’s all the encouragement he needs, but as he walks towards her she walks away from the bar and towards the small booths in the back of the crowded pub. He shakes his head, following her and finds her sitting sipping her drink casually, her eyes bright with mischief. He sits next to her and for a small span of time neither say a word. Then she turns to him:


“Sean. Yer not from Galway are ya?”

“Perceptive, aren’t we?”

“Girls from around here don’t look like ya. Ye’ve the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“I know. I have a lot of beautiful body parts.”

“I don’t doubt it. What brings ya to Ireland?”

“I wanted to be inspired.”

“Right so…”

He narrows his eyes, not sure what to say next; she laughs:

“I’m a writer; I’m doing my MA at NUI.”

“Ah, and how are we Irish doing so far at stirring your imagination?”

“Can’t complain.”

She smiles and licks her lips; she was right about this one. Smooth and charming, cute too. Maybe she will take him home, at least for a little while. It’s been a while since she felt another human’s touch. Or maybe she’ll just have her fun with him at the pub, less hassle:

“Your mind’s working away; I can see you thinking.”

“I was just wondering your place or mine?”

He’s taken aback; he’s heard American girls were forward, but this was a little much:

“So where in America are ye from?”

“I’m not from America.”

His eyebrow lifts just a bit and she has to resist the urge to snicker:

“I’m from Canada, you know the big country north of the U.S.?”

“I’m sorry, I just assumed…”

“Most people do.”

“Right, well can I get ya a drink?”

She smiles, ‘he’s nervous. Good.’ She nods towards the glass by her arm:

“I have one, but thanks.”

He picks at his shirt and shifts a little.

“Is this your first time at the Roisin?’

She shakes her head and takes a sip of her drink; he’s trying so hard, it’s adorable.

He’s frustrated; this isn’t going the way he’d planned. He figured he’d chat her up a bit, have a few drinks with her and then they’d head out. But she’s thrown him off track and he’s not sure what to do next, ‘maybe I should just forget it.’

“You never did answer my question.”

“Which question?”

“Your place or mine.”

“I was thinking maybe we could just chat a bit.”


“Isn’t that the way of it with most people?”

“I think we’ve established that I’m not ‘most people.’

“No, yer definitely not.”

He runs his fingers through his ginger hair as she takes another sip of her drink. She takes his hand:



“Dance floor.”

“I’m not a good dancer.”

“You just haven’t had the right partner.”


She touches his bare shoulder as he kisses her neck.

“I want you.”

He smiles at her, and continues along her throat then to her breasts:

“I meant all of you…”

He stills and looks down into her face; slowly he rolls off of her:

“Ya need to think about this.”

“I have.”

“For more than a moment.”

“I want you; that’s not going to change.”

“Are ye sure?”


He shifts his weight and lowers his body to her. Flesh touches flesh, lip touches lip. He reaches down and slips off the scrap of lace, the final barrier. Feather light fingers caress her inner thighs and she lets out an involuntary sigh. He looks up into her half-closed eyes:

“Are y’ok?”

She nods her ascent, her shaking fingers comb through his disheveled hair, silently urging him to continue. He drops down her stomach, laying butterfly kisses on her soft skin; his fingers find the warm folds between her legs. She moans as her body arches to meet his nimble fingers. Their bodies are beginning to become slick with sweat as every touch sends new waves of heat through their bodies. He replaces his fingers with his lips and tongue; she cries out, shocked and a little afraid. His hands reach for hers and he squeezes her fingers, she relaxes against his mouth as his tongue flicks in and out as if licking a melting ice cream cone. Without warning she feels a burst of warmth within her and she can’t help but scream. Her fingers clutch his broad shoulders and she digs her nails into his creamy flesh, breaking the skin. Her legs shake as she spends herself against his lips. His lifts his head and smiles up at her:

“Was that alright?”

She opens her mouth but her words are lost in her fevered breathing and all she can do is whimper. He lays a trail of kisses across her torso and when he reaches her breasts he takes each of them into his mouth, nipping and suckling. She shifts under him and her hand trails down the length of his body. She takes him into her hand as he groans against her breast. She rolls out from underneath him and begins to stroke him slowly:


She looks up at him questioningly:

“I won’t be able to stop if ya keep doing that”

A slow smile plays on her lips as she continues moving her hands up and down the thick length of him, keeping her eyes on his. As his eyes begin to close she quickens the movement of her hands and feels him grow harder in her hands. She stops and slowly she traces the tip of his shaft with her tongue and he jerks against her mouth. Suddenly he flips her over and growls, eyes blazing:

“Yer a minx”

She laughs against his mouth as he crushes his lips to hers. Their tongues begin to do battle as the heat within them comes close to boiling point. Her lips are raw and her breath heavy as he lifts his face from hers:

“Do ya have…”

She reaches for the nightstand beside her and pulls out a condom and a small bottle of clear liquid:

“Just in case”

He shakes his head as he takes the foil wrapper and the plastic bottle from her shaking hands; she closes her eyes and feels him reach down. A trickle of cold liquid hits her heated flesh and she bites her lips.

He puts the condom on, careful not to rip it, and looks back up into her eyes. He kisses each of her eyelids, the lashes wet. His fingers brush away the curled auburn tendrils off her face. Softly he caresses her cheek, traces her lips with his thumbs:

“What are you waiting for?”


Keeping his eyes locked onto hers he shifts himself into position. He takes each of her hands and kisses her palms, then lifts her arms around his neck. Slowly he pushes himself into her, keeping his eyes on hers, her lips tremble and he feels her muscles tighten and he stops:

“If this is really what ya want, ye need to relax.”

She nods and takes a deep breath. She wills her body to relax and she tightens her arms, bringing his head down towards her face. Softly she kisses him and feels him thrust forward. She closes her eyes against the pain ripping through her, clenching her fingers in his hair. Her body feels like its being torn apart from the inside and all she can see against her shut eyelids is a violent red haze.


She leads him through the crowded bar towards the separate room at the back of the building reserved for dancing. The floor is packed; bodies writhe and squirm against each other matching the rhythm of the pounding beat emitted through the speakers. A kaleidoscope of colors flash on the people moving to the music:

“Maybe we should stay here.”


“It’s just not my thing.”

“I’ve heard that the way a person moves on the dance floor is a good indicator of how they are in bed.”

She smirks at him; she knows he’s not going to be able to resist. He likes a challenge, that much is clear and he definitely wants her. She’s going to make him jump through hoops before he gets her, but in the end, he won’t mind:


“Mm hmm.”

He grabs her hand and pulls her onto the dance floor. She’s baiting him, but he doesn’t care. The music pulses through his body as he pulls her through the throng of people, stopping dead center. He turns around, takes her into his arms and against his flesh. She begins to move to the beat, but slower; he can’t find the rhythm she’s dancing to. She looks up at him as his arms travel down to her waist. She reaches up and brings his head towards hers stopping a mere inch away from her lips. She looks into his darkened eyes and waits:

“What kind of game are ye playing?”

“I’m not playing anymore.”

He looks down at her and sees it in her eyes. She doesn’t move, not even a whisper; His breath quickens and every muscle in his body tightens. It takes him less than a second to close the distance between their lips but the instant they touch time stops.
Her lips are soft, sweet and spicy at the same time. ‘Spiced rum’ is the last thought he has before her lips part and his mind goes blank. Her tongue sweeps across his mouth, tracing the shape of his lips but before he can react her teeth replace her tongue as she lightly nips at his lips and pulls away. She takes a step back and looks at him waiting for him to say something but his mouth is dry. He’s never been kissed like that:


“Hmmm, ya…”

Before she can continue the thought he pulls her against him and crushes his lips to hers again, plundering her mouth, nipping and sucking. She entwines her arms around his neck and kisses him back with an urgency she’s never felt before. She can’t get enough of him; if she could she’d devour him whole. Her plans for stringing him along went out the window the moment her lips touched his, she wants him and only him, as soon as possible.

His arms move up her sides, to the back of her neck. His fingers run through her hair, ‘silk’ he thinks. She feels warm and sleek against him and though he tries to pull away, he can’t seem to let go of her. He holds her even closer, no longer able to tell where her skin ends and his begins. His hands travel down her back and rest at her hips, her body is petite perfection: smooth curves and soft flesh in a tiny package. He feels her shift away and breaks off the kiss, confused:


She puts a finger to his mouth and the words die on his lips. He looks down at her questioningly:

“I’m only going to ask once more…your place or mine?”

“Where do ya live?”

“Five minutes from here.”

“Your place it is.”

“I’ll meet you out front.”

She turns away and he grabs her arm:

“Where are ye going?”

She giggles and twists her hand out of his; a coy smile plays on her lips:

“To tell the guy I came with I’m leaving!”

“Oh, right.”

She places a finger on his chin bringing his ear down to her mouth:

“Out front; two minutes.”

She kisses his cheek and he watches her disappear into the crowd.


She pulls out her keys from her jacket pocket, quivering a little. It isn’t the cool October wind that makes her fingers shake as unlocks the door and pulls it open. She walks in and turns towards him, with her index finger she beckons him inside. The front door light shines onto her dark glossy hair, creating a halo; she licks her lips as he brushes past her into the house. She slips out of her shoes, switches off the light, and closes the door behind her.

He sits on the edge of the couch watching her take off her coat. As she stretches to put it on the hook, her shirt lifts up to reveal her curved back, a strip of lace, and black lines forming an intricate design:

“Ye have a tattoo.”

“I do”

“Can I see it?”

The corner of her lips turn up into a sly smile and she walks towards him, she stops in between his legs, tracing a finger down his freckled cheek:

“Eventually; if you’re good.”

He grabs her arms and twists himself around, placing her in between the couch and himself, his arms closing her in on both sides. He leans down towards her:

“How good?”

She lifts an eyebrow and sighs. She lifts herself off the couch so that they’re almost touching. She pokes a finger into his stomach; he jerks back and she moves out of reach, winking back at him:

“Not too good.”

He yanks her back and she stumbles into his arms. He doesn’t waste a second and presses his mouth against hers before she can get away again. She squirms in his grasp, but he just holds on tighter, she groans beneath him and her arms wind around his neck. She’s on her tiptoes and he lifts her onto the couch. His hands reach under the back of her shirt.

Cold fingers on warm flesh, she shivers under his touch. He begins to pull his hands back but she arches towards him. She breaks away from his mouth and begins trailing kisses along his collarbone, towards his ear nipping lightly along the way. She feels his fingers reach under her bra as he snaps open the clasp.

He caresses her back, slowly moving forward. She stops kissing him and looks at him. His thumbs brush against her nipples and her eyes flutter close. He rubs his fingers slowly over her breasts and watches her breathing get heavy. He moves his hands down towards her smooth stomach reaching her the front of her jeans:

“Maybe we should get more comfortable.”

Her eyes open, and she cocks her head to the side:

“I am comfortable.”

He smiles at her as he slides her off the couch. Looking towards the two doors behind her he points:

“Which one?”

She takes his hand in hers and leads him towards her bedroom. Slowly opening the door, she takes him into the darkened room, pushing him onto the bed, laughing as he tries to pull her down with him. She moves to the side of the bed, flipping the switch on the lamp on her nightstand:

“Why the light?”

“I like being able to see.”

He pulls her on top of him and lifts off the tiny excuse for a shirt she’s wearing. White silk and black lace loosely contain small perfect globes and he slips the straps off her shoulders, kissing each smooth hollow softly, he trails his fingers across her rich mocha colored skin noticing the scar along her belly:

“Its not one of those beautiful parts I mentioned.”

“Everything about ye is beautiful; flawless.”

He lifts her off of him and trails kisses along the scar, reaching down to unbutton her jeans, he pulls them off her, but as he reaches up to remove her knickers she stops him:

“I’ve never done this before.”

“Brought someone home with ya?”

She bites her lip and shakes her head, unsure if she should tell him.


“I’m a virgin.”

© Briar Rose


  1. Congrats on the blog! I remember an early draft of this piece from the fiction workshop. I really like how you've played around with the narrative timeline. Looking forward to the next piece. x

  2. yah dirty fecker!
    Good luck with it anyway

  3. Mo...THANKS :)
    Cian...well you should've figured that out a LONG time ago :P

  4. It's great hun. I think I saw an earlier version too, but you've definitely improved on that one. I too thought the change in timeline brought something new to the story, an added layer of intrigue and interest. But wasn't this originally supposed to be the first in a series of pieces about first times? What ever happened to that?

  5. LOVE IT!!!! You're so incredibly talented!

  6. Sal...yes it is but this is the only one I felt was ready for "publication"

    Teesha...thanks love! I promise I will e-mail you soon; it's on my list of things to catch up on :)

  7. Well Anne I had to channel all the drama into a more productive force ;)