Amy
I had no idea what was going on. It was as though something had split inside me. My brain had fried. A whole pile of memories tumbling down, dug up, blasting into me from all directions. It was as though I was falling apart yet…yet here was Mitch, holding me together—a glue to attach my limbs to my torso and my mind to the present even when everything wanted to spin to the past.
“Shh.” He kissed my temple and carried me into the bedroom.
The next thing I knew we were under the blanket and I was nestled into his warmth, his strength, and the masculine scent of him encompassed me.
“Take your time. Tell me when you’re ready,” he said, his breath a soft whisper my head. “Sleep now, it will do you good.”
I sighed and melted into him. A sense of safety grew inside me. It was a new sensation; to draw security from an embrace. But his big strong arms spoke to me without words, and the gentle caress of his fingers on my shoulder was an extra layer of guarantee that he was different.
I’d shouted at him to leave, to get out. Other guys had always gone, galloped out of the door when I’d told them to go. Sex was all they’d wanted. All they’d been with me for. And they certainly hadn’t given a flying fuck if I’d come or not.
Which I never had.
“I’ll bring some tools to fix your door,” he murmured into the darkening room. “Put the lock back on.”
“Good.” I spread my hand on his bare chest. It was coated in coarse black hairs, and his nipples were small and dark. “I should think so, too.”
He was quiet, so was I.
There was a picture on the wall opposite the bed. I’d bought it on a whim a few years ago. The image was of an opulent white-pillared villa on a cliff side, the sky blue and full of gulls, and the garden bursting with vibrant flowers and dotted with olive trees. It seemed like a peaceful place to live. Pretty. Lots of nature and sunshine and all alone.
Maybe one day I’d visit somewhere like that…maybe even have someone to come with me.
Like Mitch.
The only way that was going to happen was to do what Becca had been telling me to do for the last few years and move on from hook-ups to a proper relationship.
Was that person Mitch?
I took a deep breath. “I left The Way Forward a few weeks before I was eighteen.”
He didn’t speak, just kept drawing circles on my shoulder with his fingertips.
I stared through the dim light at the picture. “At eighteen there is always a ceremony for women in the commune, it’s called the deflowering ceremony. Looking back, I now know Nigel Strand chose eighteen rather than sixteen to avoid any kind of legal recriminations or social service involvement. Consenting adults and all that. If he thought he could have had a public exhibition of sixteen years olds losing their virginity he would have. But that kind of scandal getting into the headlines would be his downfall.”
“Public?”
“Yes, the couples have to fuck with everyone watching. Including children. I’ve been watching adults have sex for aslong as I can remember. Not just at those ceremonies but in general. There was no inhibitions in the commune, certainly for the men, they would fuck whoever they wanted, whenever and wherever regardless of who was around.”
“Sounds like one big orgy.”
“That’s exactly what it was.”
“And you didn’t want to hang around for your ceremony. I don’t blame you.”
“No, I did not, because for me it was…” I swallowed the bitter taste that had filled my mouth. The words stalled. They were sick, perverted, unimaginable.
“Because for you it was…?” Mitch encouraged gently.
Still the words remained glued in place. Silent. Stubborn.
“In my line of work I’ve seen a lot, heard a lot,” he said. “Takes one heck of a story to shock me.”
“I’m sure.” I paused. “Nigel had declared that for my ceremony it would be Jeremy who took my virginity.”
“Your twin brother?” There were notes of both shock and disgust in his voice.
