It was that season in my life, the coming of age of the woman inside me who longed to know the secrets of the universe - those potent with lust and desire - the very thing that harnessed a sexual frenzy and drove humanity along on its erotic trembling wings.
I've always thought of love as a very sharp knife that held the promise of exquisite pain, never one that satisfied, never a theory you could nestle in, warm and safe, forever. Love was dangerous terrain. It was where you met your enemy and gutted them before you sacked their belongings, hitting the road long before the ink dried on the divorce papers - that's what my mother taught me.
I was my own universe. I guarded my heart, froze and buried it in the tundra of my own misgivings. But now that I was clear across country at Garrison University, desire and passion reared their ugly heads. My body ached to know things, and those kinds of lessons could only come from a heated body pressed against mine.
Sex manifested itself in all things. It was all around me - the hibiscus with its sticky pistil, its stamen hungry to release; the perfect round bottom of the peach, the fig tree heavy with its sacks of seeded fruit - the stray cat locked in heat as she begs for a companion. It was everywhere, viral and prolific. All of nature was making love, encouraging humanity with its undeniable whispers. Every day it resonated like an erotic echo. I was envious, greedy to experience the gnashing of hips, the interlacing of hands, knees tucked against mine. I wanted to glean all of the sensual knowledge firsthand.
I held onto virginity and reason long enough - staved off the enemy far too long. Every intimate part of me is quivering, cheering on my newfound carnal revolution, and now here I am, standing in front of the god of Garrison in the exact amount of clothing I was born in.
"Down," he instructs.
I get on my knees, and he pulls my head back. Instinctively I know this is going to hurt, and I want it to. I want to feel everything Cruise has to offer - all that he's willing to thrust my way.
He steps into me and unbuttons his jeans. He flicks at his zipper and gives the impression of a wicked grin.
"With your teeth," he commands.
And I do.
