“You’re not a real man until you have sex,” she whispered.
(Caged: Memoirs of a Cage-Fighting Poet is available on Amazon)
I ran the steps back up to my room, floating like a butterfly and fully expecting my head to be stinging like a bee in the morning.
I woke to a pounding not in my head, but outside of my door. Only half awake, I couldn’t tell if it was my door or another one down the hall. “It’s me,” a voice murmured. “Can I come in?” It was my thirty-something friend. Prior to this trip to London I had told her the hotel name but nothing more. I glanced at the clock, 2:45 A.M. I got out of bed nervous and unsure what to do if I let her in and she tried to make a move on me. “I can’t find the key to my room,” she said. “Can I sleep with you, Cameron?”
My heart raced. I was wearing only my Altoona Wresting mesh shorts. I ran to the dresser and quickly grabbed the first shirt I felt in my hands, a white, wrinkled, long sleeved button-down dress shirt, so I didn’t give her any signals. I opened the door a crack and she opened it the rest and flung her arms around my neck. She pressed her hips into mine and wrapped her left leg up around my lower back. I could smell the alcohol on her breath mixing with the sweetness of her perfume. “I’m sorry,” she whispered softly into my ear. “I can’t find my room key. I hope that’s okay with you.” I felt her tongue caress my ear and then my neck and then…
…blood surged. I knew she wanted me, sober or not. My body wanted hers right then and there. I fought the urge, lifted her up onto my shoulder like a fireman’s carry, and she lightly ran her nails all over my back. I was crazed with lust. I delivered her gently to the bed and pulled myself out of her arms. I tenderly held her face in my hands.
“I don’t want to do this,” I said seriously. “I can’t do this right now.”
“Okay, I understand. I’m so sorry, Cameron.”
I turned away from her and felt her do the same. We slept butt-to-butt. I woke again an hour later to her warm breath against my neck and ear.
“Cameron,” she whispered, her lips touching my ear. “You’ve told me you’re a virgin and proud of it. But real men have had sex. You’re not a real man until you have sex. I want to be the one to make a man of you.”
Upset that I saw this coming and still allowed her to sleep beside me in a bed barely wide enough to fit one person, I replied quietly, “What the fuck do you know about real men? Who the fuck are you to tell me what a real man is?”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” she said. “You’ll never know how good I can make you feel, the things I will do for you. Anything you want. You’ll always wonder. You’re right, though. And I’m sorry again. Goodnight, Cameron.”
I woke again less than an hour later to the warmth of her breath next to the head of my penis. The tremendous sensation controlled me. I enjoyed it. So much so that I did my best not to stir, to pretend I was sleeping. I felt her soft hands on me and then warm moisture as her lips and tongue and mouth took me in.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yelled, as I sat up a few seconds later.
“You deserve it, Cameron. Just enjoy something in your life God damnit. What the fuck is so wrong with enjoying me sucking your cock and being a man?”
“Get the fuck out my room,” I said. “I don’t want to talk to you the rest of this trip. I’m sorry I led you on. I’m sorry I let you in. I fucked up. But you know I didn’t want this. I’ve told you how many fucking times I’m not ready. It’s all about power to you, isn’t it? Power and control and using your age to get what you want. Find your motherfucking room key and get the fuck out. Get out!”
She scrambled for her purse and dug through it. Her credit cards, nickels, dimes, and driver’s license were scattered across the floor. “I can’t find the key,” she said with panic. I grabbed her purse and stuffed everything back into it. My breath quickened and my blood rushed, but this time it was out of absolute anger. I directed it at her even though it was mostly about myself. “A real man never would have turned that down,” she said. “Are you gay or something?”
“This is how a man acts,” I said, shoving her purse at her. Her room key fell out of her purse and I picked it up and put it in her hand. “This is how the fuck a man would act. You’re seeing it right now. You have no fucking idea what a man is.” I grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her carefully out of the room and slammed the door shut. “Fucking A,” I whispered to myself. “Neither do I.”