Fifteen Impertinent Questions, Ten Answers

1. How old were you when you lost your virginity? Who was it to? Describe the event.
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2. What is the strangest place you’ve had sex?
   It was in an office building’s parking garage, during office hours. I didn’t work at that office building. Neither did my Not-Quite-Boyfriend. It was after some matinée performance. Was it Light/Damage? Didn’t matter. It was a Thursday, I think.
   My not-quite-boyfriend at the time, I will call Incubee. Partially because he would knock on my window late at night. I would let him in, and he would then ravish me until dawn, then wash up and leave, as quietly as he came. An Incubus. Also, he wasn’t quite my boyfriend. Not-Quite-Boyfriend. NQB. “Incubee”.
   Incubee and I went to someone’s house afterward the matinée, and he began to blaze up with the other people there.
   I don’t mind pot so much. I mean, being around it. I used to do cocktail waitressing, and I would rather be around stoned people than drunks. I have never seen two people so stoned that they had to get into a fight. I’ve seen people that drunk; hell, I’ve been that drunk.
   They offered it to me, the way polite stoners will do. I wasn’t into it so much. It usually just makes me sleepy. Being around it this time was starting to make my head start going on and on, like I kept imagining all these scenarios, all these little stories in my head. Most of them were erotic. Someone put some music on, some kind of grinding, trancy shit. I was getting horny, but I knew my roommate was home and awake. Incubee’s house wasn’t any good, either.
   I found him, talking to some hippie-looking chick and her friend. I slipped my arm through his, tried to pull him away. Finally I whispered into his ear, “I need you. Inside me.”
   He perked up at that.
   I whispered to him again, “Where can we go?”
   He took me to his van, kissed me a few times, then pulled out into traffic. Eventually we found our way into a parking garage. “I’ve skateboarded here a few times. No one ever goes higher than the fifth floor. It’s usually empty.”
   We drove up to the 7^th floor and I immediately took off my top and bra, and leaned over him to unzip his pants. His was not too long, not too thick. I remember once thinking how huge he was. Hey, I was 19. He was maybe the third cock I’d ever seen. At the time, at that moment on that afternoon, I bet I thought it was the most beautiful one in the world.
   He settled back. I felt so wanton. I went over it gently, very gently. Tongue, lips. When I finally took it in my mouth, he gasped and arched his back. I did him for a while, then when his hands went to my head I knew I better get him in me because this boy did not last.
   I got on the floor and slipped my jeans off. He knelt, put a condom on, (I was on the pill but I didn’t know this guy like that, also I don’t think he was too selective) then he covered me with his body and slipped in me. I wanted to touch myself while he did it, I’m sure, but back then I felt dirty doing that. So I held onto him and kissed him.
   He came quickly. I didn’t, but he didn’t notice or ask. He just held me for a minute, then got up and slipped out of the van. I guess he threw the condom in a trash can. I remember thinking,Gawd, I hope he doesn’t just throw it on the pavement. He got in the driver’s seat and I was pulling my clothes on.
   “That was different. Did you like that?” he asked.
   “Sure,” I nodded. Thanks for asking, I thought.
   “Are you hungry now?” he asked.
   I was. We went to an A&W.
3. Who would you consider “switching teams” for?
   Oh, she knows who she is. And she reads this, so it’d be embarrassing to say.
4. Oral: Do you prefer to give or receive?
   I used to like just giving but lately what I’ve been receiving from Monsieur has been so good that I think I have changed preferences to that.
5. One night stands - What’s the protocol? Stay the night or get the hell outta there?
   Wait till he’s asleep. Be sure you gave him the number to your disposable phone.
6. Favourite body part/parts of the opposite sex?
   Ah, you have touched on something. The one I find most attractive? That one part is the mind, but not to look at. Or the voice - the actor’s instrument. That’s a body part, right?
   For looking: Wrists. Throat/chest juncture. Back of knees. Shoulders. Collarbone.
7. Quickie or long and slow?
   now, that depends:

   Quickie

   Once Monsieur was down in the basement, doing something or another. I think he might have been checking our supplies. It was not late. Bigglest Boy was in bed but not asleep.
   I heard him coming up the stairs to the kitchen, so I stood in the doorway and blocked his way.
   “You’re going to have to go through me,” I said, teasing.
   “Through you, indeed?” he said, with a slight smile. Then he reached into my jammies, covered my whole vulva in his hand and started massaging it. My eyes went glassy, my head started swimming, my eyelids fluttered, but I held onto the door jamb and stayed in the way.
   He turned the hand in my pants, so that his fingers were pointing up. He slipped a finger inside me, and I gasped. He took my nipple in one hand and pulled it, then added a finger to the one inside me. I was in agony. I gasped then I begged him, “please, please... oh, please....”
   He picked me up and put me on top of the washing machine, slipping my jammies off and spreading me. He clamped his mouth over my clitoris and slid three fingers into me. His tongue teased me lightly as I thrashed around on his hand.
   When I was done, he helped me down off of the washer. I was trembling so he put my jammies back on me. He helped me to bed, and held me till I fell asleep.

   Long & Slow

   For my birthday, Monsieur was going to take me out to some fancy dinner, but instead I said, “oh the heck with it! I’m not that hungry, and we have a babysitter – can we just get some deli sandwiches, a cheap motel room, and just ...”
   Well, he’s not one to deny a lady on her birthday, so we did, and before too long we found ourselves at the fabulous Sands Motel once again. It was delicious. I know I dull that word through overuse, but it was simply delicious. Long, slow, tender, sweet. For three hours: not all at once, either. 30 minutes, a break for food, another hour, a break for a hot shower. Another long, slow, delirious hour. (See? He can do it. He really can. When it’s time, I guess. It just has to be the right time, and when I have to wait for weeks I just get irritated with waiting.
   Quickie or Long & Slow? I guess the answer is, I don’t care. Either one. When I finally get him, all of him, the him that I want, it’s as though my floodgates are opened. I can live on a Quickie every couple days, and then a Long & Slow once or twice a month. Unfortunately I don’t even get subsistence rations right now. I’m not complaining! I’m not.
   Yes, I am. Stop it, Peppermint.
8. Noisy or quiet?
   I have to bite the pillows or I’d wake up the animals outside
9. Ideal amount of sex per week?

   Can I Get Enough?

   I whine and pout, I pout, whine, pout then mope then whine some more. I then retreat to the shower, ostentatiously, with my Faithful Vibrator. I take man after man upstairs at Lady Ann’s. I have decided that I don’t want to complain about it anymore. I am convinced it won’t help.
10. What’s your number one sexual turn off?
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11. Number one arousal trigger?
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12. What constitutes bad sex?
    Disinterest
13. Remember the best sex you ever had. What made it special?
    Not knowing whether I’d get it, then getting it. Patience. Love.
14. Define sexy?
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15. Celebrity you would love to shag right now?
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