White Room Virgin (Room #1)

30 - Jonah

30

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Jonah

Since I’ve had the feeling of withdrawing in the last few days anyway, the quiet country life was just right for me. Christmas with my family distracted me from my worries and I even found some peace during midnight Mass. Unfortunately, the contemplative time passed far too quickly.

Just two days later, the silence was like torture, and Martin’s words echoed in my head. The world outside felt like a tight jacket that I squeezed into every morning out of sheer politeness. The peace that I had initially longed for, which I had thought I would find in familiar rules and commandments, now made me irritable and nervous. My thoughts were louder than ever, and Jesus was hanging on the wall in almost every room, watching me with suspicious eyes. I was sure he was mocking me as I desperately tried to stay in control. In vain. My dirty imagination collided full steam ahead with all the taboos and renunciations that existed in this world. Lucien was everywhere: in my head, in my heart … in my whole body. As I thought back to our night together, I could even feel him inside me—moving slowly and touching me.

Oh my God!

How presumptuous of me to allow myself to be fooled into thinking that his breakdown had nothing to do with me. Although I now knew the story with Phil, I was certain that this couldn’t have been the sole reason for Lucien’s peculiar behavior. I must have been partly responsible.

The last time we met in the hallway, as I had just stepped out of the shower, he had appeared so worn out. Somehow sickly. And what had those bruises on his neck been about? Had he been strangled?

I hadn’t had the chance to ask Martin what had transpired on that night when I failed to prevent Lucien from going out with that woman, but Martin’s words still resonated in my mind, echoing from the kitchen into my room: “Otherwise you would have frozen to death.”

Something terrible must have happened. And I felt so guilty because I could have prevented it. But the worst thing was that I felt sorry for Lucien, even though he repeatedly made it clear to those around him that this was exactly what he didn’t want. Maybe he didn’t think he deserved it, as he seemed to want to punish himself for Phil’s death.

Maybe we’re more alike than I thought.

That’s enough. Get rid of your thoughts! Enough of Lucien!

He didn’t deserve my pity. As shabby as I had behaved toward him, I had every reason to be angry with him. If it hadn’t been for him, I would never have crossed that line. He hadn’t just stolen my first kiss and he hadn’t just blown me. He was also the first person in my life I’d ever had sex with! All things I was planning to do with my future wife! With a woman, I would have loved to meet in church. It wasn’t just a dream I was chasing. It had been my plan! A plan that might have given me the opportunity to take a different path after my studies than going back to the farm.

But Lucien had destroyed that dream and I hated him for it. And yet he kept popping up in my mind, tenderly stroking my cheek and giving me a kiss. And as if that wasn’t enough, my thoughts went particularly crazy before I fell asleep. I imagined him coming into my room at night, crawling under my blanket, and snuggling up to me naked from behind. His warmth flowed through my body, and his breath on my neck gave me goose bumps. Then he ran his hand over my back, down to my stomach, continuing further downwards. The lust in me awoke, jolting me upright as if startled by a nightmare. I let out a moan and rolled onto my other side, plagued by stomach cramps. I felt like a horny teenager who had lost all control over his body. At home in Zurich, I had satisfied myself God knows how often with thoughts of Lucien. But now I was at my parents’ house! It wasn’t too much to ask for a little self-control.

But no matter how hard I tried, just before the New Year, I could no longer shake off the impure thoughts. They heated me up so much that I lost all control. I imagined Lucien massaging my penis until it was rock hard. In my fantasy, he pressed himself against me from behind so that I could feel his cock between my buttocks. The thought turned me on so much that I started to massage my hole, carefully slipped a finger inside and imagined it was Lucien. How he pressed himself against me and took me from behind in a dominant way. How he punished me for my dirty thoughts …

The orgasm was followed by the familiar torture. Completely confused by the emotional chaos, I wanted to cry and crawl under the covers in shame. And as if that wasn’t enough, the dinner conversations with my parents got more and more awkward every day.

“Have you met Barbara’s daughter now?” my mother asked again and again.

Ever since she had introduced Laura to me with a hopeful look at the Christmas fair, she had been eagerly waiting for me to initiate a meeting.

“She’s such a nice girl,” my mother reminded me, handing me the potatoes. “Wouldn’t it be nice to go out with her?”

I remained silent and filled my plate despite losing my appetite again. Barbara was a friend of my mother—they had known each other since childhood—and I knew that if Laura and I got married, it would be a dream come true for both of them.

“You should listen to your mother,” my father interjected in response to my silence. “Laura has started training as a farmer. That’s exactly what you’ll need when you take over the farm.”

“What if I don’t want to take over the farm?” I asked cautiously.

Irritated silence followed.

“What do you mean?” my mother asked.

“I … don’t know,” I lied. “I was just thinking out loud.” Grumpily, I poked at my food.

“You’d make me very proud if you took over the farm. You know that,” my father grumbled. “Unfortunately, you’re not lucky enough to have siblings like Martin.”

“What is it that you don’t like about Laura?” my mother inquired. “Or … do you have a girlfriend in Zurich?”

Oh boy …

“Jonah?” my mother probed. “Have you met someone?” Her cheeks flushed with excitement.

“Yes, I’ve met someone,” I replied with difficulty.

Is that a lie? Jesus Christ! Forgive me!

“Oh, how nice!” my mother rejoiced.

“It’s about time,” my father said. “At the regulars’ table, people were already joking about whether you might be a fag. Go ahead and sow your wild oats, boy.”

“Erwin!”

“What? Better a city girl than a faggot.”

My throat tightened, and I bit my lower lip so hard I could taste the blood. The images of the night with Lucien popped into my head and I even heard myself moaning. Loud and full of lust. And then my cock twitched too.

Damn!

How had I gotten so far off track? And why was I making it unnecessarily difficult for myself when everything could be so easy?

Find a woman. Marry her. Have a few kids and my parents will be happy. And I’ll be happy too… definitely. After all, I’m not a faggot.

The next night I lay awake staring at the ceiling. I couldn't get my father's words out of my head, and every time Lucien crept into my thoughts, the internal stress became so great that I clenched my hands into fists so tightly that my fingernails dug painfully into my flesh. I desperately needed something to take my mind off things and make the rest of my vacation with my parents easier. Because no matter how I turned it around, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling of wanting to see Lucien.

So I called Daniela.

If there was one woman to consider, it was her.

Of course, I thought carefully about what I wanted to tell her. It had been six weeks since we met on my birthday. Perhaps I should apologize for not getting in touch for so long. Or was it better not to say a word about it and just ask her what was going on in her life? Maybe she was in a relationship now. And if not? Should I ask her out for a coffee or a glass of wine? In the afternoon or in the evening? Or should I perhaps ask Martin for advice first?

Nonsense … just do it. What could possibly go wrong?

With stiff fingers and a pounding heart, I searched my address book for her number. Her profile picture only showed a snowy landscape, but she was the only Daniela I had saved, so that had to be her number. Hesitantly, I pressed the button and let it ring.

“Hello?”

I swallowed and was paralyzed for a moment. I hadn’t expected her to answer so quickly.

“Um … hello … Daniela … it’s me … Jonah. It’s been a while, but …”

“Oh, hello, Jonah! Nice to hear from you! It’s been a while!” She actually sounded pleased to hear my voice, and I felt a great weight lifted from my shoulders. I had expected her to have erased me from her memories a long time ago.

“Yes … a while ago …” I stammered awkwardly. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing great! And you?”

“Yes … thank you … everything’s fine. I … um.” It actually wouldn’t have hurt to make a few notes. “I was … thinking about you, and … thought … I thought … maybe you’d like … a coffee … with me …”

My goodness, I’m being ridiculous.

“Yes, that sounds good. I’m up for it. When is convenient for you? I’m in the mountains for a few more days, but I’ll be back soon.”

“I won’t be back in Zurich until Saturday either,” I replied, relieved that my voice was no longer shaking.

“Saturday is fine. Shall we meet at the Odeon at 6 pm?”

“Yes!” I replied, almost a little too excitedly. That was easier than I had expected. “That suits me very well.” But then I suddenly found myself at a loss for words again.

Before another awkward silence could ensue, Daniela spoke up again. “It’s great that you called. Most people are too good for that now and only write a message at most.”

“Well.” I tried to sound relaxed. “That seemed kind of inappropriate here.”

Daniela laughed. “I’m glad about that. See you on Saturday then!”

“See you then!”

I hung up and took a deep breath. My heart was still racing, and as hot as my head felt, it was probably bright red. But I was also proud of myself. Knowing that I was going to meet her made my time with my parents easier. I looked forward to the date, feeling proud of having taken the chance. My conscience finally recovered to some extent, and I was optimistic. I wanted to do everything better in the new year.

Since I had almost completely banished my inglorious night with Daniela from my memory—which I had definitely done better than the night with Lucien—the image I had of her was only a blur. But I remembered her long blonde hair, her doe eyes, and her understanding smile the morning after when I had said goodbye in shame. The idea of going out with her and having a nice conversation helped me escape from my overwhelming thoughts, allowing me to sleep peacefully again.