Trust
It’s been three weeks, 21 days, seven hours and 30 minutes that she and Dustin have been going out. All leading up to this moment – her first kiss and embrace with Dustin. In the 31st minute of their relationship, she is on top Dustin. She can feel his frame under his baggy clothes. His hands are cupping her behind and gently pushing her body towards him. Maybe it’s the fact that Dustin is four years older and out of high school that makes her feel that she can – or at least should – trust him. They have been making out and fondling during their next 20 minutes of their fledging togetherness and she is suddenly feeling Dustin’s hands moving from over her jeans to past her waistline. An electrical current shoots from her lower back to the nape of her neck and she sits up to look at her boyfriend. Dustin’s eyes open and reveal faded blue orbs. She tries to say something but the intensity of the moment stifles it. “Don’t you trust me?” Dustin asks.

Good Grief
The living room is empty and the lights are off. It’s 3 a.m. and Mary sits alone in her father’s red leather recliner. She turns on the television in front of her and clicks aimlessly through the channels looking for nothing in particular. Her wide brown eyes are blood-shot and her long black hair is in tangled disarray. Her lips are a pale flesh tone. Traces of mascara line her cheeks from hours of crying. Though she is currently a mess, she is beautiful nonetheless, like a Chinese Audrey Hepburn.

Two days ago, Mary’s father died in a car accident. She replays the scenario over and over in her head. As images of real estate and cars flash by on the screen in front of her, she breaks down in tears again.

A knock sounds behind her. When Mary turns she see her boyfriend who immediately hugs and kisses her.

“I don’t want to remember,” she says, sobbing uncontrollable in his arms.

The two continue to kiss and then undress, finally making love for the first time.

Bumpin’
“I could die tomorrow.” That was the thought running through my head as
I sat riding the number 40 bus to my boyfriend’s house. I’d convinced myself that I couldn’t die a virgin. I was seventeen and I was not terminally ill, but my fear of flying off to England the next day put the thought of death on my brain.

Two hours before, I’d called my boyfriend and told him that I needed to see him. He had no clue that I was finally going to give it up. As I exited the bus, the thought of what I was going to do hit me. The walk from the bus stop, that on a normal day took five minutes, took me 15 minutes as I kicked rocks and agitated a feisty dog barking at me behind a fence.

I arrived at his house and the nerves went away when I saw his face – familiar and comfortable. He greeted me with his usual “wassup boo” and I walked right past him and straight to his bedroom like a woman on a mission.

His room was filled with the smell of weed and the thumping sound of bass music filled my chest. He followed me to his bedroom and sat next to me and asked what was on my mind. Always forward and straight to the point I told him it was time we did it.

He asked me to hold on while he went to the store to buy cigarettes for the afterglow…….

Are You Sure?
The sun is shining through the single window. A desk with a computer on top is the only furniture in the blue room. A TV sitting on the floor is turned on and the movie Bewitched is playing on low volume. They lay a blanket down on the carpeted floor, since there is no couch to sit on.

“Could this be the day?” she thinks to herself. She has only been dating him for a month, but she just feels like this is it. At almost 17 years old, she feels like she is ready.
As they are lying down on the blanket they start to kiss. It’s a typical kiss. Passionate, sweet, tender. A few minutes of kissing pass and he starts to take of her clothes. In the heat of the moment, she takes of his as well.

The whole time she is still not sure if this is going to be the day. This, like the kissing, has happened before too. But when he glances at her, the look in his eyes confirms in her mind that this is the day. She’s not sure what it is, but she knows that at this moment, at this time, this is what she wants. He asks her if she is sure and she says, “Yes, I’m sure.”

Party Like it’s 1999
It’s getting dark outside and the New Year is only hours away. With no one else in the house except he and his girlfriend, anyone college aged would expect them to hit the bedroom for some wild sex without even closing the door. Except he’s 15 and nervous because almost everyday his friends add pressure by asking him, “Did you hit it yet?” The answer is no, but his goal is to get there before the 21st century. All tensions aside, they work their way to his parent’s room, hand in hand, and slip under the sheets. Right before he gets in, he takes one last glance at the clock. He makes it with two hours to spare.

Now’s the Time
For some reason I had gotten it into my head that boys were supposed to lose their “virginity” at 14. Not that I wasn’t feeling randy as a goat, as most boys are at that age, but I seriously was on a personal mission to get laid before I turned 15. It didn’t matter to me who or really under what circumstances, just that I had reached my goal post.

The girl that I brought home that afternoon was a friend of mine from math class. We were dating in the way that most high school freshman date, almost by word only, and usually meant smoking pot together at lunch and making out in the hallways for everyone to see.

This particular afternoon, I had finally gotten a chance to bring her home. My parents were upstairs and I was gabbing on nervously, showing her records, asking about classes, where to get pot and fumbling for a chance to bring up sex. I never seemed to get the word in. My parents were in the house, which made me doubly anxious, wanting to get it over with as fast as possible.

“Do you want to take a tour of my house?” I asked her. A simple and strangely nervous “okay” was her reply. I led her to all the boring rooms in the house first. The living room, the garage, the kitchen, and finally made my way to the large downstairs bathroom, which had ample room for movement. The room was dimly lit and echoed because of the space. Or maybe that was the sound in my head because I wanted to make every word count.

I quickly resumed chitter-chatter about nothing in particular, glancing at the door and wondering where my parents were. I pulled something small and crinkly out of my pocket and before I even knew I was saying, the next line that spewed out of my mouth was “I’ve got a condom, do you want to use it?”

Under the Moon
It’s quickly approaching 11 at night on a hot Tuesday in September. They’ve been driving around in his old Blazer for a few hours – there’s not much to do in Pleasanton at this time of night. It’s the first time they’ve been together for days – which seems like weeks for a 19-year-old who thinks she’s madly in love. He’s older, strong with big arms and quiet – more of a grunter than a talker.

She has been anticipating this night for some time and she knows his hopes are high too. The pressure is on. He says it’s getting late so that he can either take her home or they can go for a walk. She chooses the walk. They awkwardly traipse through a park, tripping on tree roots and ducking under branches until they find an open space. The moon lights up the sky and everything is quiet and still. They start kissing and before she knows it he has no pants on. Before she realizes exactly what is going on, they’re doing it. At least she thinks they are…it’s not what she expects. Everything is over in a few minutes.

They stumble back to the car for a long and quiet ride home.

In the Dark
As she unlocks the door, she thinks to herself, "This could be it."

Stepping inside of the dark house, she leads him with her hand quietly up the stairs. Her eyes finally adjusting to the light, she can make out his expression - one of honesty and confusion. She feels a sense of empowerment, and likes him not knowing what is about to come next. Continuing to lead him down the hall, they approach her bedroom. Instead of flipping the light switch on, she leaves the room dim with just enough light to see their silouettes and maybe a little more. She hesitates, but tells herself she is in charge. It is all up to her. And with that, they collapse onto her bed.