TYPING: You wouldn’t believe…
The sun was pouring on my heavily-invested greasy crew cut. But that was no cause to put me off swaggering around campus in my thigh-snagging (an observer who had no degrees in dissecting style, unlike you, would say, throttling, thigh-throttling) washed-out blue jeans, my striped grey-black Ralph Lauren shirt paired with a Hugo Boss flying tie in midnight shade.
TYPING: … the trends that can crop up on campus.
I watched the sad attempt of the colour-blockers who thought purple could go with red, orange, and bright, sunny yellow. The colour blockers who liked to misplace colours in inappropriate disarray on different parts of their body (really, opaque Orange tights?). The colour-blockers who shockingly thought colour-blocking was still in!
But no, I wasn’t sick to my stomach with the old patterns of Dashiki (I know! Old!), or the boys wearing tight purple pants (which is just so unforgiving!), it was the bloodstained scars (wounds, bite marks, whatever) gracing the necks of everyone that passed me by.
Hickeys, I observed as I watched aghast the throng of students who made me seem I was the only one moving in the wrong direction. Everyone was sporting hickeys!
Even Maya, who at the moment came from behind and shoved me in the direction of one of the resident halls.
I didn’t even ask where the hell she was taking me to. “Really?” my voice held a tint of annoyance, “hickeys? Has Dracula made a comeback and feasted on the neck of my friends?”
“First of all,” she ushered me in the direction of a corridor. “I am not your friend. Just because I constantly shag your roommate in your own bed doesn’t give you the right to call me your friend—“I opened my mouth to protest but she cut me off “—Even after that time you offered to run for the condoms when Ray and I were short on supply.” She kept her gaze on the unknown destination. “Secondly, it’s a trend, Kobs. And I am appalled you are humiliating yourself by not following it.”
Humiliating myself pretending I hadn’t been the product of a vampire’s overbite test? No, thank you. “Which fashionista in their awfully right minds created this trend anyway?”
“It’s not a trend created by a fashionista. It’s a trend created by a sex-fiend.” She responded as though that was so convincing. “And if you do not have it, it clearly shows you haven’t had sex in the past weeks.”
“I haven’t had sex——“ She clamped my mouth shut as two girls bounded out of their rooms into the corridor.
“I know.” She yanked open a door. “A gift from Raymond, enjoy!” she said brightly, then shoved me all confused into the room and shut the door. I heard the locks behind.
“Nooo!” I pounded the door fiercely, not bothering to look into the dark room. “Let me out!”
At this juncture, do call me a scaredy-cat, a wimp, an aberrant. That I do not find joy in my friends hooking me up with a slut (sluts?) to break the virginity I wasn’t sure I had since eight (——surely no one counts Mummy and Daddy?)
A hand tapped my shoulder lightly. But I didn’t turn for fear that she might be naked.
Clearly bored to death with me crying against the door, she spun me around, pinned me to the door and took my chin in her hands.
God, she was the most beautiful girl I ever saw…
The most beautiful girl I ever saw was nearing her face towards mine! The most beautiful girl I ever saw was about to kiss me! Me! Me! Me! Ohmigod, funny how when you decided to change your toothpaste from Yazz to Close Up, miracles did happen!
But then I’d find out kisses were normally supposed to be on the lips, not on the neck. And no, no, you never kissed with teeth! You kissed with tongue just so whoever was the recipient of your benevolence didn’t scream———
“Ow!” I yelped in pain as Maya towelled the bruise on my neck. “Ow! Ow! Ow!”
I was once again in my own room.
“In the initial stages it should hurt.” Raymond said over Maya’s shoulder, “But you get used to it.”
“You get used to this??——Ow! Maya, don’t you think you have done enough dama——Ow!”
“You should be thankful for doing you the favour.” She continued, reprimanding as she dressed the wound. “You do not want to be walking around campus being the only one who hasn’t done it in… what? Your whole life? And the many bleak years ahead of you without a girlfriend?”
“So you took me to a girl who possibly wears fangs and bites like a caveman tasting their first KFC?”
Raymond: “She’s a hickey specialist.”
Maya: “And it’s Kentucky Fried Chicken.”
“Ohmigod, this all makes sense!”
I watched the two share a knowing look at the expense of my distress.
“I’ll go first.” Raymond offered, then turned to me. “Kobs, everyone is doing it.”
And they thought I hadn’t known that already?
“Everyone is having rough sex!”
They shook their heads in synchrony as though I was a hopeless cause. Which I clearly was.
TYPING: All around campus, everyone is having rough sex. Sex with a bite (——if that isn’t literal enough, I do not know what is!). It’s normal sex, but exchange caressing for digging nails into flesh, kissing with nipping all areas of the body with teeth, orgasms with, um, nothing——because yes, this whole thing is supposed to be pleasurable.
“You can’t be serious!” I exclaimed at the two who were looking at me proudly and nodding satisfyingly with the shocking sex education they’d just offered. “There must be someone out there who isn’t into this crap!”———
“Even we are having rough sex!”
I know you would have described this as cheating statistics: Looking for outliers to prove this rough sex claim wrong. But could you blame me when I felt so left out and driven? So driven I’d scouted around campus for Grannie-Grandma and Fetish Priest Husband who once again claimed they’d been teleported by the gods because they had sensed my worry.
Even with them my results were disheartening.
“Noo,” I shook my head at the two. “You two cannot be having rough sex!”
“It’s sad you are judging us by our weak joints, our shrivelled skin and a few missing teeth.” Grannie-Grandma said sorrowfully. “We very much feel attracted to each other and we still grasp our nether regions in our mouths and chew on them no matter how light and papery they now feel.”
Oh no. My face twisted in agony, my stomach churned. Why did they always find a way to make me want to reach for the hypothetical bucket?
I just watched them walk away, supporting each other with their hands squeezing their bums and disappearing in the crowd of energetic students who were all sporting hickeys it was impossible to tell who was and wasn’t having rough sex.
I turned to the thinned crowd of students approaching me, and immediately caught sight of Celeste Bonnard strutting towards me in a simple black vest and bouncy skirt stuffed with marabou feathers.
I quickly ducked behind a banner that read: VOTE FOR KWAME NKRUMAH FOR FACULTY OF SOCIAL SCIENCES PRESIDENT, not taking into consideration how ridiculous I looked as a set of legs peaking beneath the formidable head-to-torso shot of the aspirant.
“These legs look oddly familiar. I have selected shoes for those feet, I am sure of it.” Without waiting for a response (um, from my legs, perhaps) she hauled me out of my hiding place, forcing me to walk with her. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Oh, hi Celeste.” I tried my best to sound bright and casual. Celeste, a campus personal stylist/shopper was also the scorned ex of my roommate out to ruin him. Of course, she didn’t know I knew this. But I knew I knew this. So I had been avoiding her. Until then. “I really haven’t been avoiding you.”
“I know!” She answered sarcastically, “because that would really be a foolish thing to do, wouldn’t it?” I nodded briskly as equally as I tried to match her steps. “So spill,” she belted out in her French accent.
“What?” I inquired innocently. If she thought I’d start blabbing about Raymond she had to be joking!
“Your blog. What piece are you working on?”
And that was how I loosened up.
“You are writing about rough sex?” She screamed and I mouthed at her, making cutthroat signs for her to keep it down.
“Have you had rough sex before?” She obviously noticed my hickey, but doubted it.
“I have a question to ask.”
TYPING: Why wouldn’t people just enjoy normal sex?
“Because they cannot help it!” She exclaimed. “It’s all that pent up sexual tension. You see that lecturer who just got down from his car?” She pointed ahead at the driveway of her faculty. “On a closer view, you would see his hickey. Now you should know there can never be sexual tension between a balding man and his youthful student——“that there was enlightening—“—but some men just love being bitten.”
“Um, Celeste,” my gaze had drawn to her neck. “You do not have a hickey.”
“Non, mon ami, I wouldn’t let him bite me.” She answered feistily and I suddenly felt sorry for this lecturer. Where was all the spirit in ‘tit for tat’? “Hon, it’s a good thing during our times doctors have taken tetanus immunizations seriously. On that note,” She halted, clutched my face for a big, fat smooch on my cheek. “See you at the most-talked premiere of the month, in of course, an outfit I put together for you!”
“I met Celeste today!” I screamed as I broke into my room.
“Shh,” Raymond, in only a towel, pulled me from the door and threw me onto his bed. “You are in for a treat.”
“No, thank you. I’m honoured by the way.” I added quickly.
He shot me a look, as though I was crazy. I made an attempt to repeat but the bathroom door flung open and in came Maya who was only in a towel.
“Um, guys. I know we want to help me do away with this v-card thingy. But a threesome isn’t very ‘baby steps’ is it…?”
But they weren’t listening, because Maya run for Raymond, growling all the way like an angry football quarterback, slamming him hard against our door. Raymond yanked the towel off her and my hands shot to my eyes to secure myself from Maya’s back-view.
Oh my groin! But couldn’t a boy peep?
Raymond hauled her around and slammed her back against the wall. He pressed his body weight against hers. She gnawed her teeth into his neck and curled a leg around his thighs…
Bam! Bam! Bam!
OMG! I figured they wanted me to have just sat there and watch. But when they’d said rough, I really had no clue they’d be at each other like animals! Maya had thrown Raymond off her and had pounced on him on the floor. For a second there I thought she was going to pound fists into his face. Until Raymond rolled her over and shockingly didn’t slam her head repeatedly against the carpet.
I took that as cue to use the door.
With my heart pounding hard against my chest, I felt like a water-boy on a soccer field as I rushed out of the room. No one should have rough sex without a first aid kit.
TYPING: Whatever juggles your balls. Rough sex? Safe sex?(——pun not intended). Just make sure you are doing it right! How? Please do not ask me, I only turn nineteen this year. And the only rough I ever encountered was life’s situations.
Author’s Note: Catch Sex And The City Campus here every Saturday. You really shouldn’t miss the Death Day premiere only hours away. Comment on this post or send your feedback to the email: email@example.com to win one of FIVE tickets going away.
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