I had worked as an assistant for an English professor named Judith Ross — now described on various web sites as “noted novelist Judith Ross” (her notable novels are available on Amazon used for $0.01) — who was going on vacation for the holidays and asked me if I wanted to house-sit and take care of her skittish Yorkshire Terrier, Duncan.
She presented it as an opportunity to study for my final exams in quiescent solitude, but Carrie and I both saw it as the perfect opportunity to not only have sex for the first time, but to do so in a luxurious queen-sized bed.
Professor Ross never asked me to house-sit or, I realized, do anything at all for her, ever again. It occurred to me, too late, that I may have left a used condom in the little wire mesh trash can in her bathroom.
Anyway.
On a blisteringly cold December day, Carrie assigned me the task of buying condoms, which in the mid-1980’s required a trip to the drug store where, unlike now, they were kept behind the counter. Which meant that I had to ask for them. Out loud.
I nervously approached the silver-haired pharmacist, who regarded me, inexplicably, with cold-eyed hostility.
“What do you need?” he asked impatiently, the deep lines in his forehead joining the rest of his face in disapproval.
“Condoms,” I said, trying not to say the word too loudly, but loudly enough that I wouldn’t have to say it again.
“What kind?” he demanded.
I had not considered this.
“Uh...”
He opened a small drawer. “We have latex!” he bellowed. He slammed the drawer shut and opened another. “Sheepskin!” (slam! ) “Lubricated!” (slam!) “Dry lubricated!”
Slam!
I chose the dry lubricated latex for no other reason than to get him to stop shouting and slamming drawers.
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Bad Sex & Good Scotch: A Reunion Story
Короткі історії#86 in Short Story (7/11/15) Remember your "first time?" Well, I wish I could forget mine. As a Freshman in college, I met Carrie and we fell in love. We thought we were the perfect couple. We thought we would always be together. But after we decide...
