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This writing was accepted for publication in the 84 page perfect-bound issue... Down in the Dirt magazine (v080) (the March 2010 Issue) This is also available from our printer as a a $7.47 paperback book (5.5" x 8.5") perfect-bound w/ b&w pages

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Womanizing

Ken Sieben

    Carolyn Martin had been longing to give up her virginity ever since she was fourteen, and, two days before her seventeenth birthday, she was as certain as her straight-A average and perfect attendance record that the time had come. Four summers earlier, she had developed a strong crush on Chris Powell, her sailing instructor. But after school started she never saw him. He was a senior at Waterwitch High, the playmaker on the basketball team, a platform diver, a wrestler. She was an eighth-grader in the adjacent middle school where she had played basketball, run track and cross country, and been a cheerleader for her school’s football team. Those activities, in addition to making new friends, studying to get good grades to please her father, and asserting her independence from her mother left her no spare time to seek Chris’s attention.
    Chris had graduated and gone off to college before she realized she was in love with him. Oh, well, she rationalized, he’s not the only man in the world. She made the varsity basketball team as a freshman and, since girls’ games were played in the afternoons and boys’ games at night, was also a cheerleader. It wasn’t long before she got to know all the athletes. By second semester, almost every boy in the school knew who Carolyn Martin was—the tall, gorgeous, long-legged blond who couldn’t possibly be a freshman. But none of them, in her judgment, could match Chris in personality, intelligence, looks, or determination. Even the seniors seemed either too self-centered or lacking in confidence. There wasn’t a single boy in her school with whom she could imagine having sex. The honor students were nerdy about it, and the others were dirty about it, but sex was all that any of them seemed interested in. Even Jim Hawkins and Ben Gunther, Island Watch neighbors with whom she had played since childhood, still acted like kids.
    The next summer, desperate, she searched the phone book and dialed all four Powells in Waterwitch. None had a Chris in the family. He must have moved—or had an unlisted number. She called Information and was informed there was one Powell with an unlisted number. She had missed her life’s single opportunity to pursue the man of her dreams.
    But, on March 1of her junior year, during the second half of the annual game between Waterwitch and its arch-rival, Riverton Regional, Carolyn spotted Phil Palmer among the fans. As a senior two years before, Phil had led Riverton to a last-second victory over Waterwitch. She had never seen him except in his basketball uniform, but that night she recognized him in jeans and a Princeton sweatshirt. She made eye contact as she executed a cheer. He grinned and gave her a thumbs-up. He pointed to her and to himself, then pointed to the front door of the gym. For the rest of the game, she caught his eye every time she leaped into the air and stretched her arms up. She jumped higher and stayed up longer than ever before because she wanted him to see how lithe and graceful her hungry body was.
    Carolyn was so excited by the idea of meeting and talking with Phil Palmer that she didn’t realize her team had won the game until it was over. She raced to the front door and waited for what seemed a lifetime for Phil to climb down from the bleachers. After the first five minutes, she feared she had misinterpreted his sign. But the gym had been crowded, and lots of people were still making their way to the exit. Perhaps Phil had stopped by his team’s locker room. That was it. He hadn’t come to the game to see her; he’d come to see his coach and some old teammates. Well, she would wait another five minutes, then change and try to get a ride home. Or, better yet, a ride to Susan’s, whose father kept a keg under his bar and who always took her mother to a late movie on Saturdays. Carolyn had told her own mother she’d be late.
    Carolyn kept picturing Phil’s pointing to the door and, when time was up, decided to give him five more minutes. Sure enough, when the gym was almost empty, Phil emerged from the visiting team’s locker room and quickly strode half the length of the court on his long legs, his grin broadening with every step. He appeared to be about six-five, the same height as Tim Bond, Waterwitch’s center, but twenty pounds lighter. God, he looks great! thought Carolyn. And I just know he’s much nicer than Tim.
    As Phil came to a halt, he grasped Carolyn’s right hand in his and said, “I don’t know your name, but I could never forget your gorgeous face—or your perfect body. You cheered for Waterwitch the night we beat you.”
    Delighting in the hand contact and aware of his physical strength and emotional power, she answered, “On your three-pointer at the buzzer. How far out were you?”
    “Thirty feet. The coach had made me practice all week and told me to hold at mid-court on the last play. Our playmaker stole the ball and heaved it to me. I glanced at the clock, saw one second left, and took my shot.”
    “Of course, it was a disappointment for us, but even Tim Bond called it a great shot. He said he could never have made it.”
    “Tim Bond was a dirty player—still is, I noticed tonight—always jabbing with his elbows and shoving under the basket.”
    “I’m not surprised because, personally, he’s a real pain in the ass. He’s crude and vulgar and can’t keep his hands to himself.”
    Still grinning, now squeezing Carolyn’s shoulders with both his big hands, Phil stepped back and said, “Damn, you’ve grown, haven’t you?”
    “I’m five-ten now, about two inches taller than freshman year, and I’m still growing. I’m starting center on our girls’ team. Uh, do you play for Princeton?”
    “No. I tried out and probably would have made the freshman team last year but then sat on the bench for the season. It didn’t seem worth the time. So, gorgeous, what is your name?”
    “Carolyn Martin. And everybody knows you’re Phil Palmer.”
    “Well, Carolyn Martin, would you like Phil Palmer to drive you home?”
    “Sure, but maybe we could just drive around a little first? I already told my mother not to wait up for me.”
    “And you wouldn’t want to disappoint her, right?”
    “Absolutely. Just give me three minutes to change. I won’t bother with a shower.” That was silly. I’ve been sweating up a storm all night. Hope he likes earthy.
    They drove around town and the harbor for twenty minutes, comparing notes on families—they were both only children, though Carolyn lived with her divorced mother and unmarried aunt while Phil’s parents were still together—and career goals—Phil was in pre-law, Carolyn hoped to study computer science. Carolyn asked him to stop so she could remove her winter jacket because the car was so warm. Phil did the same, then suggested they drive up to Hudson Hill County Park to enjoy the view of New York across the bay while they got to know each other better.
    It was a warm, clear, still night, the kind of night that Carolyn had always wanted to share with a thoughtful, intelligent, sexy, handsome gentleman. She didn’t say much because she didn’t want to disturb Phil’s concentration as he maneuvered his ’79 Corvette around the hairpin turns of the Scenic Drive. Instead, she wondered if—hoped that—he would soon put his arm around her, unbutton her silk blouse, caress her breasts with those big calloused hands. Phil would know how to do these things; he wouldn’t just grope and hope like Tim.
    Sure enough, moments after pulling the car between a pair of white lines in the middle of the parking lot and shutting off the engine, Phil put his right arm around her and let his hand cup her right shoulder. “Your hand feels good,” she said.
    After a few minutes he asked, “Can I keep going?”
    “I really want you to,” she answered, releasing her seat belt and undoing the top button of her blouse, then the next.
    Phil slowly slid his hand to the front of Carolyn’s shoulder, then under her blouse and onto her right breast, tweaking her erect nipple with his index finger. “No bra?” he asked.
    “I took it off in the locker room—to make it easier for you. You have a gentle way of touching.”
    “You have fantastic breasts—even shapelier than I had imagined. Can I use my lips and tongue.”
    “If you like.”
    “Do you like it?”
    “I’m sure I will.”
    Phil removed his seat belt and turned to face her. Using both hands, he unbuttoned the rest of her blouse and spread it wide open to expose Carolyn’s firm breasts. He bent toward her but stopped, caught his breath, and said, “Wait a minute, you’re not just a cock-teaser, are you?”
    Surprised by his unpleasant tone, Carolyn answered, “No. I’m a girl who’s getting very aroused, as long as you don’t turn nasty on me.”
    “You are on the pill, right?”
    “No, but I carry a condom in my wallet, you know, just in case.”
    “Sorry, kid, I don’t like condoms. I expect a girl to be prepared.”
    “I thought I was prepared. Actually, I have two of them.”
    Suddenly, Phil removed his hands from Carolyn’s breasts, sat back in the driver’s position, and said, “I need you to tell me something, Carolyn, something important.”
    “What?” she asked, not at all certain she understood what Phil was thinking.
    “How many times have you actually fucked?”
    Carolyn hesitated and began to panic. This wasn’t working out as she had planned. Phil was not being a gentleman. She couldn’t lie, so she said nothing.
    But Phil wouldn’t let it go and asked, “Have you ever fucked a guy?”
    “No. I want to, but all the boys I know are too immature. But I decided I was ready tonight when I saw you.”
    “How old are you?”
    “I’ll turn seventeen on Monday.”
    “With that face and body, you look at least twenty. I can’t believe you haven’t tried sex yet, but I’m not gonna be the one to introduce you. I want a woman with experience, who really knows how to fuck. I don’t want another fucking virgin.”
    Carolyn refused to allow her disappointment and shame to show. Instead, she answered, with as much self-assurance as she could summon, “I gave two of my friends blowjobs a few months ago. Nothing romantic, just a reward for a huge favor they had done me.”
    “Well, if I unzip and take my cock out, will you give me one?”
    “Sure, I’ll do anything you want.”
    When it was over, Phil said, “That was good, Carolyn, I appreciate it.”
    All Carolyn could manage to say in response was, “It’s pretty late, could you drive me home now?”
    As he pulled to the curb in front of Carolyn’s house, Phil said, “You know, you’re really a good sport and I’m sure you’ll learn to be great in bed. My advice is to get a prescription for the pill from your doctor and seduce a couple of guys to get some experience. I’ll be home for Easter break at the end of the month, and I’d really like to get together with you again. Think you’re interested?”
    Carolyn hesitated a few moments as she pictured herself having sex with Tim Bond as often as they could over the next four weeks. Tim’s already fucked half the cheerleaders. At least he can teach me what Phil expects me to know. And I’ll just have to imagine it’s Phil. Maybe Chris. But not Tim. “Definitely,” she answered after steeling herself to the new reality, a talent she had always possessed. “Let me give you my number so you can call.”

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