Virgin(55)

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “But I’m not a total freak. I do have guy friends who talk about this sort of stuff and I don’t think any of them want a porn star. I mean, sure, they get off on it and they’d love it for one night, but I think they’d be overwhelmed to have a girlfriend like that, and not overwhelmed in a good way. You know?”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “I reckon you’ve got a point. And I don’t really want to be the kind of girl who gazes at a guy in pure joy while she has his dick in her mouth and he grabs her head. I mean, I’d be way too preoccupied with concentrating on the mouth part to be able to smile at him too.”

Paul laughed. “Yeah, I kind of know how you feel,” he admitted. “I’m terrified to get out there and have to start figuring out stuff like that. At least you’ve known your whole life that you fancied men, but I’ve only just realized, and all of this is new to me.”

I looked at Paul with respect. Who knew he’d be so comfortable talking about sex—or the lack thereof—and be so honest with it? Jeez, he was almost as skilled as me when it came to self-deprecation, and that wasn’t something I came across every day. A vision of us lying on a sofa watching E! and bitching about celebs formed in my mind. Only, in the daydream, Paul had better clothes and my hymen was no longer intact.

“Anyway,” said Paul, pulling me out of my engrossing daydream, “who is this lucky guy you’re watching porn for?”

“Blaghh,” I groaned. “I don’t know where to start. He’s a graphic designer and he’s twenty-six and he likes me and I need—no, I want—to do stuff with him, but, um, I don’t really know how to do stuff . . .” I trailed off. I couldn’t explain why I was so nervous about third base without telling him the whole story. I squeezed my eyes shut and decided Paul had a right to know. I was, after all, the first person he had come out to and kissed. Both at the same time.

I took a deep breath and told him the James Martell saga in all its teethy glory. He didn’t even laugh or wince when I got to the biting bit. Or the “I can’t take your virginity” part. His expression barely changed and when I got to the end, he just shrugged his shoulders and said, “Shit. Well, good thing that was years ago and now you’re going to try again with a decent guy.”

“That’s all you can say?” I asked, my eyes wide. “It was the most traumatic moment of my life.”

“Try being bullied for being gay when you don’t even know if you are,” he retorted. Then his voice got softer and he carried on. “Seriously, Ellie, it was a disaster with this James guy because you didn’t really like him. He was just a nice guy who fancied you, but you weren’t comfortable with him so things didn’t work out. I think if you take things slower, and make sure you’re comfortable with this guy first, things will be better.”

I nodded, realizing Paul was more intelligent than his haircut suggested. I was sure I would feel comfortable with Jack, and if not, I could definitely make myself feel comfortable. Maybe there was a WikiHow on it.



We spent the rest of the morning hanging out on top of my bed. It was nice to spend time with a guy without freaking out about whether he fancied me. And Paul was a nice guy. At one point I even found myself wishing he were straight. The thought died when he told me that he had gone to a gay bar during the week, on his own, and he had met a guy. I was too impressed to say anything other than shriek in response.

He told me they had kissed and then swapped numbers. Now Vladi, the guy in question, wanted to meet up with Paul, but he was too embarrassed about his lack of sexual experience to agree. I nodded compassionately when he explained how embarrassed he was for Vladi to find out about his virginity.

“I’m also nervous about, uh, well, going down on him too,” he admitted. “Have you picked up any tips from the porn videos you can share?”

“I’m sorry. So far my list pretty much just consists of licking it like an ice pop.” He looked crestfallen and I realized I had to help. “But maybe we can learn together?” I offered. “I have a bit of a skill when it comes to Googling this stuff, so if it isn’t too weird, we could, like, watch a video together?”

“Um, what kind of video?” he asked cautiously. “I don’t really want to watch a porno with you, Ellie, no offense.”

“None taken, thanks very much,” I said primly. “Besides, I wasn’t suggesting we watch porn . . .”



We opened a bag of popcorn and wordlessly ate it as we stared at my laptop, transfixed. A blond American woman called Gabby was educating us on how to give the perfect blow job. She was seated on a stool in a white room.