“What kind of music do you like?”
“Who is your favourite author?”
“Remember that time when me and Ariel sang that acoustic set at the monk?”
“What’s the first thing you think about in the morning?”

We had known eachother for several months. After a school acting retreat, we had become much closer. He was graduating this year, and I was in the 11th grade. We were both talented, outspoken people. But he was so much more popular than me… I dont know how I managed to intrigue him so much. But I guess my charm finally paid off.
It was 2AM. Oliver had put his number into my phone the day that we left for the shalis valley and now that we were all back home, I had finally gotten up the nerve to send him a text. I had been lounging in bed on my cotton floral bedspread, barely dressed and reading charles dickens ‘great expectations’ when the phone rang. I was surprised to hear his husky, exotic voice on the other end. We talked of many things, but the conversation eventually became one of a sexual nature. I wasn’t exactly a virgin, and neither was he. But I had not so much as kissed someone I’d known at our school and this was fresh, exciting territory for me.

“What’s your favourite smell?”
“Pussy.” He laughed, the rich sound dripping through the airwaves that connected us like molasses.
“Oh, really.” I was blushing, embarrassed. I didn’t know what to say to that. Not to mention I was pretty distracted with the way my tight little spot had become so instantly wet. “Yeah. I do, actually. And the taste. You could say I’m very generous…” I was too anxious about what he would think of me if I were to ask him a diry question, but I did answer all the ones he threw my way. “What’s your favourite position?” “I like them all, really. I’ll always try new things too. But ontop, I guess.” “Oh, wow. That’s so perfect… I’d love to have a girl that knows how to ride.” “I know you would. I’m pretty amazing in bed, to be honest.”

Our conversations continued like this for a day or two. One thursday Oliver called. I snuck off from watching TV to go into my room and answer. “Come over. Come and see me.” “Whaat, but it’s so late…” I lived with my sister and her family, so I could pretty much do as I pleased, but even so. It was so late. Why couldn’t he come here? “You know you want to…” “No, I know that YOU want me to.” Despite my serious words there was that casual, flirting lilt to my voice.