you’re going to play your part, a part you didn’t even know until now that you knew how to play. He will ask you to blow him, because of course he will. You won’t know how. But you’re not going to want him to know that, because if he knew, he might be so freaked out and disgusted he will leave you in a puddle of shame on the floor, or else quietly judge you the rest of the night. So you will bend down and try to summon some deep primal intuition and you will want to cry as you do so. Cry because you hate it and cry because you hate yourself for not saying no even though it’s been hammered into you since birth that it’s your right to. And you know because he’s young and liberal, it’s been hammered into him as well. But your pride and your deep seated fear and your people pleasing tendencies will overrule all that. You will have sex with him under the fluorescent light and you will only realize later that you should have set mood lighting and that you should not have been on top your first time. But he doesn’t know that it was your first time because you were being cool, so there wasn’t really anything you could have done about that. You will be surprised about how mechanical it feels, how unintimate. You might feel a little gross and a little sad, and even though you were never precious about it, you might feel a little precious about it. After, he will say something pretentious, such as, “You look like a Renaissance painting.” You will think of Botticelli’s paintings and wonder if that just means fat. He will ask you how old you are, which if he had had
Kayla Warner
BAIT
41
