An Anecdotal Life

Loud Sex In New Jersey

         During a trip up to see Mike's family home near Philadelphia, he and I were invited to spend the weekend with an old high school friend of his. The boy, Joe, was a lifeguard at a beach near Atlantic City and had his grandparents' beach house to himself for the summer. Having heard legends of the infamous Atlantic City but no personal experience myself, I was more than willing to make the trip.

         On the way to New Jersey, Mike settled deeply into his seat, rested both hands on the wheel resolutely, and began to tell me about his friend, Joe.

         "He hasn't led the best of lives," he explained, "but he hasn't been the best of guys, either. I trust him to stand behind me in a fight; he's loyal, don't get me wrong. But, he can be a bit of a...well...jerk."

         "It's all right, hon," I said, smiling and patting his thigh. "I have a little brother. I'm accustomed to jerkness."

         Mike laughed, but shook his head. "No, I mean...well, like with women. All we ever hear about is this one night stand or that episode under the pier. He's constantly bragging about his...his..."

         "Sexual conquests?" I offered, amused. Mike nodded, letting out a frustrated sigh.

         "I don't know about the other guys, but I always wanted to punch him in the face when he started with all that." He glanced over at me sheepishly. "Besides, I had no sexual conquests of my own to speak of--not that I would!"

         I bit my lip to hide a grin, studying my nails. "I see."

         We rode in silence for a bit, enjoying the buzz of the air conditioner in the withering heat. Finally, I turned in my seat to look at him.

         "Am I going to be your sexual conquest?"

         "Do you want to be?" he asked cautiously, only half joking.

         I considered it for a moment. I had only just discovered the joys of sex after a five-year rape-induced boycott. It was fun and awkward, silly and serious, perfectly still, completely kinetic, and all the energy in all the world all at once. But most importantly, it was safe, no matter what. I shrugged, trusting this man with more than my life.

         "Why not?"

* * * * * * *

         Since neither Mike nor I was comfortable giving a blow-by-blow account of our bedroom activities to anyone, we had to come up with another way to flaunt it in Joe's face that this once, somebody else would be having a wildly exciting sexual encounter (in his immediate vicinity, no less) and he would be in bed alone.

         The solution was Operation: Loud Sex In New Jersey. We figured if we couldn't tell Joe about our experiences, we could let him hear them firsthand. Such the clever couple were we.

         We pulled up and went through the motions of old greetings and new introductions as Joe welcomed us into his grandparents' house. It was bright and spacious with windows everywhere, just as one would expect a beach house to be. He explained the rules--no shoes on the carpet and whatnot--then showed us our room.

         It was all I could do to keep my jaw from dropping. There, against the far wall, was the biggest bed I had ever seen. We found out later that it was two full mattresses pressed together, but not to know that and to see the bloody thing--it was almost intimidating. I had a sudden desire to ask where the bed for beginners was. Mike, on the other hand, was grinning ear to ear. I rolled my eyes and followed Joe out of the room for the rest of the tour.

         The afternoon passed pleasantly, with a walk to a little local place for dinner (instead of asking if I wanted a salad with my meal, they asked what kind of chowder I wanted--so charming!) and a quick trip to the liquor store to get the boys some beer for catching up. We settled congenially into Joe's basement room for an evening of music, video games, and shooting the proverbial bull.

         While the boys plowed their way through the case they'd purchased, I sat back and took amused stock of boys being boys. My boyfriend, usually a moderately conservative young man, was cursing like a sailor and participating in round after round of bawdy drinking songs. Joe, true to form, checked me out with a few sidelong glances, but checked himself out far more often in the full length mirror hanging on the wall. They told terrible stories about people I didn't know and, as though I wasn't there, discussed the pros and cons of women they'd gone to school with. They were utter and complete toads, and I began to see how some women might choose to be lesbians.

         Finally, after several hours of male debauchery, Mike staggered to his pleasantly buzzed feet, lifted me to my perfectly sober ones, and announced, "I'm going to enjoy my woman now."

         As I had not partaken of the liquor that eve, I hadn't a bit of trouble making it up to our room and preparing for bed. Mike got the basics down all right, but seemed to be more bothered by the details than I.

         "Why's it so damn hot?" he growled, flopping onto the bed to take a stab at getting undressed.

         "Probably because it's a hundred and fifty degrees out and there's no air conditioner, sweetie," I said, going about the room opening all the windows to allow for a breeze. Apparently breezes skip New Jersey altogether, for they never once stirred that night. I stood on the bed and clicked on the fan as an added incentive for the cool, then dropped to sit cross-legged and looked at Mike.

         He gave me a pirate's smile and began advancing on hands and knees across the wide expanse of bed. He made it about halfway when one arm disappeared from sight and his face plowed unceremoniously into the mattress. Nothing breaks a romantic mood quite like the bed eating your partner. I cracked up.

         "Damn stupid bed...the hell..." Poor Mike was a mass of grumbly male once we extracted him and set the bed right again. Concerned for our safety and the integrity of a pleasurable atmosphere, we resettled at a ninety degree angle so at least we wouldn't roll into the canyon and go crashing through the floor.

         Minutes later, we discovered issue number two. Apparently the bed (or beds, depending on your point of view) had springs designed to bounce at the exact natural frequency of a couple making love. If you have never before been airborn during such an event, perhaps you should give Joe a call and reserve the bed for an evening. It was quite an experience but, while interesting and unique, it was also a source of infinite amusement. As we discovered, giggling hysterically does not a passionately exotic sexual session make.

         After we settled down a bit and had returned to the task at hand, fate came to visit once more. Unbeknownst to me, alcohol apparently has the ability to keep a man from, well...completing his duties. Doesn't stop him from trying--oh no, in fact it tricks him into thinking he can be all he can be. In reality, it's more like a disfunctional Viagra--gets you where you want to be, then laughs in your face. Being new to the sport entirely, I was at first enthralled, making all the prerequisite loud noises as per the plan. After I while, rapture turned to fascination, then mild concern as the activities carried on...and on...and on.

         "Bloody hell, man," I finally grunted in his ear, "what in god's name did you take before bed?!"

         Conscious of my potential discomfort, we took a break, panting and praying with all our might for a gust of cool sea air. No breezes forthcoming, and dead set on finishing what we'd started, we got back to work. Or rather, we tried to get back to work.

         It seemed that the half-case of beer had finally settled itself well and good into Mike's system. The poor boy could barely see straight to know which of the three Casey's before him to tackle, let alone be able to do the actual tackling. With an exhausted groan sometime before the sun came up, he simply threw in the towel, flinging himself onto his back spread eagle.

         "I'm sorry, but I'd like to die now," he said, peeking at me with one eye. I would have laughed had I the energy. As it was, I just nodded solemnly.

         "Go in peace." I kissed his hand, too hot to touch any other part of him and too tired to try anyway. We fell asleep like that, two dehydrated naked bodies splayed out in the tremendous desert of the bed, waiting for the gods to take us away.

* * * * * * *

         "Morning," Joe greeted pleasantly as we stumbled down to breakfast the next day. I had refused to show my face until I'd showered, but Mike was still gloriously unkempt, his hair swirling in all directions and a suspicious looking mark on his collarbone. Joe stared at him for a moment and I blushed, ducking my head to concentrate on my waffles.

         "So," Joe said conversationally after we were done eating, "exactly how long did you two go at it last night?"

         So, it had worked after all. My cheeks flamed red as I choked on my orange juice, not expecting to be called out like that. The ever unflappable Mike grinned like a Cheshire cat, stretching his arm across the back of the seat to clap my back solidly.

         "As long as it took, my friend, as long as it took."