White Room Virgin (Room #1)

10 - Jonah

10

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Jonah

To my surprise, no one seemed interested in why I had missed the lecture that morning. It still upset me for days afterward. It was only the fourth week, and nobody oversleeps in the fourth week of study … at least not me.

“What if I don’t show up here for several days because I’ve died? Won’t anyone care then?” I asked Simon.

“But you didn’t die. Relax!”

“Yes, thank God! But a little more sympathy wouldn’t hurt.”

“Maybe where you come from, it’s common for everyone to be interested in everything. But here in the city, folks value their privacy and tend to mind their own business. After all, you wouldn’t want to offend anyone.”

Growing up, I had ample space to maintain my privacy. I had to admit that here in the city, I had become one of those who fiercely defended their personal space. Not as strict as Lucien, whose bedroom door was always closed, while mine was usually ajar. But there was no way I was going to let Martin tell me how to furnish my room. I loved my room! It was quiet and helped me to concentrate. Prison cell or not. At least there were no unnecessary frills to stop me from studying.

Around eleven o’clock, I was lying on the bed reading, as I usually did, when I heard the door unlock. Martin was at work, so it could only be Lucien. The slamming confirmed my theory.

“Fucking door…” he muttered angrily.

As he walked past my half-open bedroom door, cigarette smoke drifted in. Shortly afterward, I heard the kettle bubbling, chair legs scraping across the floor, and the crockery cupboard being slammed shut.

What a noise!

When I heard a cup being placed on the kitchen counter, I slid forward onto the edge of the bed, realizing it was time to close the door. All of a sudden, I heard the clink of breaking china.

“Ah! Shit, man!”

I rushed out to check.

Lucien was standing in front of the kitchen counter, clutching his left wrist, his face contorted with pain. There was a smoldering cigarette on the floor, a broken cup in the sink, and a steaming kettle next to it. My eyes fell on Lu’s hand. At least there was no blood.

“What happened?”

“Shit, man! The boiling water!” He picked up the cigarette and tucked it into the corner of his mouth.

I turned the faucet on, set it to cold, and grabbed Lu by the wrist. “You have to cool it right away, man! Everyone knows that!”

“It’s not so bad,” he said.

“Not so bad? That was boiling water!” I pulled his hand under the cool stream and held it there. I released my grip only when I was confident he would follow my instruction. Recalling seeing cooling pads in the freezer once, I retrieved one and snatched a fresh kitchen towel before returning to Lucien. He leaned over the sink, both elbows resting on its edge. His left hand remained under the jet of water as he shielded his eyes with his right hand, gritting his teeth in pain. The cigarette was now in the sink.

“What a … shit …” he gasped.

“Come here,” I said, gently pulling his hand out from under the stream of water. “Where exactly did you get it?”

The burn hadn’t left any marks yet. Lucien indicated that it had run directly over the back of his hand. I carefully dried the area with the kitchen towel, noticing his long, elegant fingers. He had really beautiful hands.

God! Jonah! Pull yourself together!

I wrapped the frozen cooling pad in the kitchen towel and tied it around the scalded hand. When Lucien tried to tug it away, I pulled back. “Hold still!”

“Ow!”

I secured the cloth in place as best I could and wondered if any bandages were around.

Lucien winced and straightened up. Only then did I realize that he was pretty drunk and could barely stand upright. Again. “Why do you constantly feel the need to go overboard?”

He patted his pockets and found the open pack of cigarettes.

“No!” I firmly said. I snatched the pack from him and put it on the table. “That’s enough for today!”

“Spoilsport,” he muttered, fiddling with the cooling pad.

“Come on. I think you’ve had enough for today.” I put my hand on his back and escorted him out of the kitchen. On the threshold to his room, he stumbled, pulling me to the floor with him. He just laughed, which didn’t surprise me at all, given his condition. We were now lying in the middle of the room. “You’re really not that good with doors, are you?” I asked, helping him to lean against the bed. “Where have you been?”

Tilting his head back, Lucien stroked his face and sighed. “Where have you been?”

The desperate undertone in his voice caught my attention.

Me? Why me?

“There was … that party,” he slurred his words. “And there was this girl … Jessica. She just wouldn’t stop talking. She talked and talked and talked. I just couldn’t get rid of her.” He looked at me, drained. “She was so exhausting.”

“Oh, come on.” His story amused me, and I took off his shoes with a grin. “As if you wouldn’t like it. Just enjoy it—I’d be glad of so much attention.”

He allowed me to help him like a child; even as I unbuttoned his coat, he remained quietly seated. Almost a little too calm, I realized. When I tried to help him remove his coat, he didn’t move a bit.

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?”

Lucien opened his mouth and licked his lips. “I told you, you’re handsome.”

What the hell is this now?

“Yeah, but …” I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You really are handsome.”

“What…?”

He put his hands on my cheeks and kissed me on the lips. Just like that. As if his lips were aflame, a surge of heat swept through me. Fireworks went off in my head. His soft lips were downright electrifying. An alternating bath of hot and cold made me shiver, the movements of his lips penetrating me like music. I felt the rhythm and followed it. Lucien became more impetuous, taking possession of my lips as greedily as if his life depended on it. And God, being so desperately wanted by him triggered an almost uncontrollable lust in me. I kissed him, breathing in his breath, gasping for air again and again. Lucien stroked the back of my neck with his hand, sucking on my lips and leaving me utterly powerless. When his tongue tried to make its way past my teeth, I willingly let it in.

It wasn’t until our tongues touched that alarm bells started ringing in my head. No, it was more of a siren, similar to an ambulance. And it drained all the blood from my head. All the air left my body. Startled, I pushed myself away from him and landed on my butt with a horrified gasp. “What are you doing? I’m not …”

Lucien ran his hand over his still damp lips, breathing heavily, and looked at me with shining eyes. “Does it matter?”

My heart was pounding like crazy.

God, that kiss was good!

I could still feel his lips on mine. Every fiber of my being yearned for them as though they were a drug. “No! That’s not right!” I shouted and jumped up.

No, no, no! It’s unnatural!

I rubbed my face, trying to clear my head while pacing back and forth in front of Lu.

Don’t be seduced … don’t be tempted … Is that it? The temptation? Is Lucien the temptation?

“Holy Mary, mother of God! I really should go to confession.”

“I thought they’d done away with that long ago,” Lucien said as he now struggled to peel himself out of his coat.

“What?” I shook my head in irritation. “That was Luther, man! I’m Catholic!”

“Hm. Then maybe you should get out,” he mumbled as he crawled onto the bed and slumped down. “Confession is … meh …”

Stunned, I stood there staring at him.

Is he asleep? Doesn’t he care about any of this? How can he sleep so easily when his tongue was just inside me?

I took a deep breath.

My God … And … I liked it!

I let out an exasperated growl and ruffled my hair, then I felt dizzy. Upset, I hurried out of the room.

My first kiss! Is this a joke, or what?