Through the Woods

Wow, I thought. This is it. I'm going to have sex. I was 16, scrawny, had braces and glasses and yet here I was with the head cheerleader in the back of my dad's Oldsmobile.

Rachel gave me this weird sort of look. Maybe she could tell I was excited-- I mean it was obvious that I was excited, but I mean I think she could see it on my face. I tried to play it cool, by narrowing my eyes and pursing my lips.
"Are you frowning?" She asked.
"Huh? No, I was trying...nevermind," I laughed nervously.
"What's funny?" She asked again.
"Nothing. This is just crazy that we're-- you and me-- are here, back here," I said, my heart racing. Don't screw this up. Rachel was straddling me in the back seat. She had pulled her shirt off, but insisted that she keep the bra on, which was fine with me. I'd never even touched a boob before, but I considered myself lucky that I was skipping all that heading right for home. 

Rachel leaned down and grabbed her phone from her purse. "So, I have some conversations to make, so just go ahead or whatever," she said casually. "But leave the bra on," she ordered.
I just nodded.
"Okay?" She said without looking up.
"Yeah, no that's cool. That's cool," I said."Do, uh, do I need to take your underwear off or is that something that you wanted to.."
She huffed and slid off me for a second. Expertly she managed to get her underwear off with one hand while the other typed furiously. I was still so struck by this moment that I forgot my pants were still on. Hurriedly, I pulled them off. 
"Remember. No one can ever know about this. Especially David," she warned. David was her older brother, and captain of the football team, and all around douche-bag who would break my dick off if he found out I slept with his sister.
"No problem. This'll be just between us. For sure," I added.
"Great. Michael is going to be so pissed!" She squealed as she climbed back on top of me.
Michael was her college boyfriend who she'd been dating all year. Thankfully he lived another town over and there's no way he would ever find out who I was. Hopefully. She was sitting balanced on my knees, waiting.
"What?" I asked.
"Condom, dumbass. You think I want to have your fucking nerd babies?" She said. God she was beautiful when she was angry, and right. I leaned forward to reach my jean pocket, found the condom and presto-- we were in business.
"Okay. All systems go. Let's do it," I joked. She rolled her eyes and moved forward. She steadied over me briefly like a marksman before a shot. My heart was pounding in my chest in anticipation.
Bullseye.
It was like heaven. You know that feeling when it's really cold outside and you get into a hot shower. It was nothing like that; it was better. I sat there in that backseat motionless, in pure bliss.
"Are you going to move or what? This is boring," Rachel complained.
Oh right. Shit. I'd seen enough porn to get the general idea. I started bucking my hips upward, like I was trying to get up off the seat. She didn't seem to complain so I guess I was doing something right. I gently grabbed her hips, but her cocked eyebrow told me that was a no no. I could tell despite that she was really into because she wasn't making any noise. She must've been in deep concentration like me. We were bonding like soul mates. We were experiencing each other in a way no one else could. I'd known Rachel since 3rd grade, but for the first time in my life I really knew her. My eyes welled up a little with joy and pride.
"Oh my fucking god that is hilarious!" Rachel exclaimed. She startled me and pulled me out of my trance. She mistook my confusion for interest.
"So, Megan-- you know Megan-- Megan was on a date with some loser from Garrison High and during dinner he farted so bad that she left!"
"That's, uh..." I didn't know what to say. "That's funny. Really funny. Sometimes when my grandma comes over for dinner she'll fart and blame it on the dog, but we all know it's her," I said, trying to be apart of her joke.
"Everyone knows my grandma died last year. Why would you even say something like that?" She actually looked up at me this time. Her mouth pouty and her hair in her face. Even mad she was beautiful.
"I'm sorry, Rachel. My grandpa died last year too so I know how you feel," I said.
And then I was done. 
"Are we done yet? I have a party to go," She asked impatiently. 
"Oh yeah," I said. She rolled off of me without a word. She slipped her underwear and shirt back on, popped the door open and got out. I was sitting there with my pants around my ankles, dazed. She leaned her head and said, "Thanks again, Steve. You're a good friend. The best!" Before I could even respond she was already on the phone with someone about how pissed Michael would be. She didn't even close the door.
I felt used, dirty, wrong. I sat there for a minute trying to examine the last twenty minutes in my head. My phone buzzed in my jean pocket and I sluggishly reached for it and managed to pick up right before the voicemail.
"Steve, what's up, man?" My friend Gary asked.
"Not much. Not much. Just sitting in my car up at the school."
"What? Why?"
"Well, you know Rachel Woods?" I asked, with a smile on my face.
So, there I was: 16, with braces and glasses, sitting in the back of my dad's oldsmobile with my pants around my ankles, and I wouldn't change it for the world.