Brandon’s following me back to my place, and all I can think about is Joel.

I have this irrational fear that he’s there, sitting on my couch, stewing over what a bitch I was to him, waiting to tell me all about it as soon as I walk in the front door. I know how dumb that is, but I can’t stop worrying about it. When we pull up in front of my place the irrational fears dissipate, and instead I start to worry about more rational things. During the times that I haven’t been with Brandon I haven’t been feeling my best, and I’m worried that some of my issues are going to find their way to the surface. Sleeping with someone for the first time can be stressful, and stress is a trigger for me. I take a deep breath, and pop one of my Dirty Little Secrets as he gets out of his car. I hope it helps.

When we get inside my place my default reaction is to apologize, so that’s exactly what I do. Something drilled into me by an overbearing neat freak of a mom. “I’m sorry for the mess. I didn’t expect to have anyone over, I know it’s a disaster.”

Brandon furrows his brow and scans the room before looking at me like I’m nuts. “I guess we have really different definitions of what a mess looks like. Thank God we didn’t go to my place.”

I laugh and offer him a drink. I walk him over to my little makeshift bar and open the liquor cabinet. I haven’t drunk anything since I started taking my meds again—psychiatric meds and booze are a dangerous combo, so I offer him a drink without planning to have one myself. “What’s your poison?” I sound like bartender from an old black and white movie.

“I’m not much of a drinker,” he says. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

Shit. “So, water, then?” I laugh, and so does he.

“No nightcap for you?”

“Trying to lay off. Apparently drinking is bad for you. Who knew?”

“I’ve never heard that in my life,” he says sarcastically.

“Actually, I get really bad headaches and it’s just not worth the pain to experience an hour or two of feeling good.” Even though that’s not why I’m not drinking, it’s still kind of the truth. It’s better than, sorry, my psych meds have a warning on the side in big, block letters, warning me not to drink, otherwise I might act even crazier than I already do, Sorry Brandon.

“Water sounds great, then.” I grab two bottles of Poland Spring and we head over to the couch. Brandon sits close enough to me to let me know he’s still interested, but not so close that he’s on top of me. “So,” he asks. “Rate your first book club experience on a scale of one to ten. Am I ever going to see you again?”

“I was pleasantly surprised, to tell you the truth. I thought it was going to be like tenth grade English, but the people there seemed really cool, and I love the book so far. I can’t wait to read the rest.”

“Why’d you agree to do it if you thought you’d hate it?” he asks.

I shoot him a ‘duh’ look, but I see that he wants me to say the words. I don’t mind giving him what he wants. “Because of you,” I say, seductively. “Because I wanted to be around you.”

When I say it, he stands up and takes my hand, pulling me up off the couch so that I’m standing in front of him again. My face feels empty without his hands, and when he puts them there I feel comforted—I feel complete. His lips come soon after, soft at first, pressing gently against mine. “I love kissing you, Talia.” His words turn me on as much as his touch, and my body starts to ignite at his touch. We keep kissing for another minute, but I’m ready for things to go to the next level.

“I didn’t show you my bedroom, yet, did I?” I ask. He shakes his head. “I’m a bad host. Do you want to see it now?” After he nods we move our make-out session into my room. I get nervous as soon as we cross the threshold. I don’t know why. I assume it’s because I haven’t been with anyone except Joel in a long time. Suddenly I start to have doubts, like this is happening too close to my break up, like everything Joel thinks of me being selfish is correct. I hear his voice in my head, accusing me of being unfeeling and self-centered, and I pull back.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. A discussion of my ex-boyfriend and what the appropriate length of time between sex partners is would be the perfect bullet to the head of this moment we’re having, so I’m not sure how to answer him.

“I’m just. . .”

“Nervous?” he says, finishing my sentence as though he could read my mind. “Don’t worry, I am too.”

“You are? About what? Have you seen yourself recently?”

“Really. I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. I’m not sure what you think of me, but it’s been a really long time since I’ve been with a woman.”

“Come on?” I say, not sure if he’s being really vulnerable and truthful with me, or feeding me some lines to get into my pants faster.

“I’m being serious,” he says. “It’s been. . . longer than I care to admit. I know you think I’m this playboy or something because of how I look, but I have a lot of trouble talking to most women. I haven’t had many girlfriends, and I don’t sleep around.”

Who is this guy? What universe does he come from? “I. . . I wouldn’t have guessed that. You seem like you’re pretty comfortable talking to women.”

“Not to women,” he says, looking deeply into my eyes. “To you. I feel comfortable around you. That’s why I invited you back. That’s why I wanted to have lunch with you. That’s why I kissed you that day. But this isn’t a regular thing for me at all, so I understand if you’re nervous.”

“It’s not nerves,” I tell him. “Not exactly.”

“What, then?” Taking his hand, I sit down on the bed and pull him down next to me.

“This is about the last thing you want to hear about right now.”

“Try me.”

“I’m not nervous about being with you. It’s not that. It’s just that it hasn’t been that long since I broke up with my ex-boyfriend, Joel. Like, not a lot of time at all.”

“And you feel guilty?” he asks.

“No,” I say. “It’s not guilt, not towards him, anyhow.”

“Then towards who?”

“I don’t know? Society? I’m not even sure, I know it’s dumb.”

He squeezes my hand to reassure me. “It’s not dumb if it’s what you’re feeling. Just talk me through it. Are you and this guy broken up, fully? There’s no ambiguity? You’re not taking a break like Ross and Rachel, are you?”

The Friends reference makes me smile. It’s one of my favorite shows to binge on Netflix. “We’re not on a break. He left me a goodbye note.”

“Like a Dear John letter?”

“Yes, but in reverse.”

“Well,” he says. “That sounds pretty final to me. Do you still have feelings for him at all? Even a little bit?”

“Absolutely not. And not for a while now. That’s kind of why we broke up, I wanted out and ended up pushing him away.”

“Okay.” He nods his head up and down like he’s taking a class on my past relationships. I’ve got his total focus, and he’s not trying to twist my arm or plead his case, he’s just listening and interpreting what I’m giving him. He looks away and thinks for a few seconds before his next statement. “I know this is going to sound self-interested, obviously, but based on what you’re telling me I don’t see why you should feel bad. You don’t love the guy, he broke up with you, and now you’re here with me, where I assume you want to be.”

“More than anything right now, Brandon.” It’s true. There’s literally nowhere else I want to be now but in his arms.

“Then I don’t see the problem. But I’m not inside that beautiful head of yours. If it’s forced, or the logic of the situation isn’t enough to make you feel better, then I can go. I’m not mad if that’s the case, and I’m not disappointed. We did just meet.”

“Does that matter to you?” I ask, genuinely interested how he feels, even though there’s a very different standard for guys when it comes to this sort of thing.

“It doesn’t, no. I’ve made enough mistakes in my life and felt enough pain to know when something is right. And this is right. You and I make sense. I don’t need to know much more than that.” He’s right. I’m being stupid, even though he’d never put it that way at all. I haven’t felt anything for Joel in a long time, even though we were still technically together, and I haven’t had sex with him—or anyone else—in months. I think maybe I’m overthinking this situation. We do make sense together. “If you want me to go I underst. . .”

I grab his face and kiss him. I don’t need any more conversation. He gets the message. He kisses me back, passionately, and I feel his tongue inside my mouth right away, forcefully breaking through my lips as I claw at his shirt. I can feel his muscles through his clothing, and it turns me on. He saves me the trouble of clawing it off and takes it off himself. His body is ridiculous—even better than promised by the touch I just gave him. His chest is contoured, his arms defined and powerful, and I just sit on my knees, taking him in and running my hands up and down over the bumps in his chest.

He reaches over and pulls my shirt off. This whole thing doesn’t feel like it’s really happening. I get insecure for a second because no one except Joel has seen me naked in a long time. Brandon sees it on my face—the momentary hesitation as he undresses me, and he stops to put me at ease. “You know I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, right?” Anyone else saying that would sound cheesy and insincere to my ears, but I know that he’s telling the truth. He speaks with such authority that I know he means every syllable he utters to me, and I believe him.

I give him the signal to keep going with my eyes, and in seconds my shirt is sitting next to his on the floor. We undress some more, me completely naked and him only in his underwear, and he covers me with his massive body as I fall to my back, anticipating all the things that are coming next. I feel his weight over me, and his tongue thrusts into my mouth once again as his hand explores every inch of me. He cups my naked breast—my nipples hard against the gentle rub of his thumb. My whole body feels more sensitive than it ever has before, and his body feels like it’s magnetized to mine.

His strong hand runs down the length of my body as he kisses me even deeper, from the base of my calf all the way back up to my cheek. My face feels small in his hands, and every section of my skin that he touches is on fire. I wrap my legs around him, but my feet can barely touch one another. He steps off the bed for a second and takes off his underwear, leaving him completely naked in front of me.

I can’t stop staring at his body. It’s incredible. And looking at him I realize that all of my other boyfriends’ bodies were nothing compared to him. He’s muscled without being too big. He’s imposing without being intimidating. And even standing naked in front of me for the first time he exudes that self-confidence that I’d pay a million dollars to feel just once.

He has every reason to be confident—his manhood is the biggest I’ve ever seen in my life. There’s big and then there’s big! Long, thick, and beautiful, he’s getting hard as we speak, turned on by the look I’m giving him. I start to anticipate what it will feel like when it’s inside of me, and I start to get even more wet than I already am.

I invite him over with my eyes, and spread my legs open for him. I have an old condom in my nightstand, and he puts it on after I hand it to him. Once it’s on he climbs into the bed, and slides between my legs again. He lowers his head down to the spot where I’m aching for him. His tongue slides over me, gently, and I claw at the sheets in complete ecstasy. He presses even harder, letting his tongue push inside, and all the way up until he hits the perfect spot. He takes his time there, massaging in little firm circles as I grab at his hair. My body feels so good, and I feel that warmth come over me.

He only teases me for a few minutes, but it’s all I can take without having an orgasm. He stops just before that point, though, almost as if he knows my limits just by the way my body responds to him. He grabs at my face and kisses me. I can feel the intensity in his touch, and his sense of urgency is turning me on. It’s like he can’t control himself when he’s with me, like he can’t get at me fast enough. I feel him reach down and grab himself, and I know that it’s time to take every inch of that huge thing right now. I can’t wait.

I’m so wet that it won’t be a problem at all, but I’ve never even seen a man this big, let alone felt what it’s like. He puts the tip on the outside of me and moves it around. I lean my head back and I swear my eyes roll right into the back of my head because it feels so good. The whole sensation starts in one spot—localized at first—but then it radiates outwards, and overwhelms every nerve ending, every inch of skin, every bit of me.

He teases the outside of me some more, but I know he can’t wait much longer. He pushes forward, guiding himself inside of me, and the feeling of all of him is almost too much to take. He’s gentle yet forceful at the same time—not thrusting too hard, but letting me know that he knows exactly how to use his significant size. He goes in and out, raising and lowering his hips so that I can feel every inch filling me up completely.

While he’s inside me I feel alive. I’m not a shell walking around, pretending to be normal. When he’s inside me my body reminds me that of what it feels like to ache for someone else, to want them, to need their touch. It’s our first time, so neither of us are going to last very long. The buildup has just been too much, and the feeling of him is overwhelming. He feels it, too. I see his eyes starting to roll, and the noises he’s making let me know that he’s close.

When he comes it’s like a symphony of happy noises coming from both of us. He doesn’t yell when he comes—he roars, like a male lion letting everyone in the pride know who the alpha is. His howl lets me know that he’s shot all of himself into me, and when he’s done he pulls out and lowers his head once more, working his way down to my dripping pussy once more. This won’t take long. He puts his finger in me as he licks, and I’m just about ready to finish. When I come I feel like I’m leaving my body, transferred to another plane of existence where every nerve is exploding, and my entire body is burning. “Oh my fucking God!” I scream, before collapsing.

After it’s all over he throws his condom away and crawls into bed next to me. I snuggle up against his chest. I love the smell of him, and it’s all over me. The smell of our sex fills the room like the kinkiest air freshener ever, and for the first time in forever I feel truly happy, something I didn’t even believe myself capable of anymore. “That was incredible,” he says.

“Yeah, it was. You have a tremendous cock, do you know that, sir?”

“Aww. That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

We laugh hysterically, and I put my head on him once more. “You wanna order in and stay over tonight?” I ask. “I might need some more of that.”

“My tremendous cock? You got it. But only if you like Chinese.”

“You’re in luck, because I love both of those things. I know a great Chinese place, too.”

“Talia, I think this is a match made in Heaven.”