Juliana Ch. 01

Once a week, mostly on Friday, some of the employees at the office went out after work to have a drink. It took them two months to get Juliana to join them, and another month to get her to try a gin and tonic. It made her feel dizzy. It also made her giggle and gave her the feeling she was witty. But most of all it made her think she could have a second one.

After reaching the toilet in the nick of time, she felt sick and too ashamed to return to the bar. Stumbling up the steps to the street, a voice stopped her. A hand touched her shoulder and turned her around. She was too dizzy and embarrassed to look the man in the face, but she recognized his shirt. He was the new young man from the studio. What was his name? Alex, or Alec something.

She missed a step and fell against him.

"Oops," he said. "They shouldn't have given you the second one." His hands were strong, holding her up. He smelled of cologne. Being so close to a man gave her the shivers. He seemed to tremble too.

"I'll bring you home," he said. "You can't take the bus like this. Where do you live?"

He took her home in his not very new and not especially cool car. She smiled all the way and made walking from the curb to the porch seem harder than it was. She just liked the way he held her.

Jack thanked Alec profusely for his gallant act; Aimée took her upstairs.

"That was pretty stupid," she said, helping her get to bed. "He could easily have taken advantage of you, you know?" Juliana mumbled a sorry. Aimée smiled.

"But I'm glad it happened, in a way," she said. "You seem to like the young man?"

Alec asked her out the next Saturday night -- a nice simple pizza dinner and a movie. When he brought her home she knew she was supposed to thank him; he might at least expect a kiss, but he didn't insist when she didn't offer one. The moment was awkward, though. She had to run inside to put an end to it -- panting as she leant against the closed door, hearing her heart thump. After a while she heard his car start and leave. Cursing herself, she lay awake for hours.

When he asked her for a second date, she blushed crimson and apologized for her rude actions the time before. He made light of it and took her out dancing. Her only experience with dancing were the chaste maneuvers at church functions. When Alec took her in his arms, though, she followed his lead instinctively. Her knees were too weak to have a mind of their own anyway.

That night they kissed on the porch, and she allowed him to feel her body through her clothes. From then on making out became part of their dates. Afterward she'd sneak up the stairs, shoes in her hand and her head in the clouds.

A few times, back at the farm, she'd touched her body, standing under long showers or lying in her lonely bed. It had always been a secret mixture of shame and excitement. She'd caressed the tips of her little breasts and the hairy folds between her legs, knowing it was bad to do that -- taboo. Allowing a man to do it, out there on the porch, doubled the intensity of her feelings -- the arousal as well as the shame. Just opening her mouth to receive his tongue sent waves of heat to all niches of her body. She didn't resist; he seemed to suck her will out of her. His hand was under her blouse, finding the hot, straining pinpoints at the center of her breasts. Dizziness closed her mind; she fell against him, moaning.

But when his fingers crawled past the waist of her new skirt to slip inside her cotton panties, she woke up and pushed him away. A flash of frustration passed over his face.

"I'm sorry," she said, closing her blouse, trying to keep standing on her wobbly legs.

"Oh no!" he objected in a thick voice. "It's me. I'm sorry. You are so beautiful... so beautiful."

From that time on all they did was kissing and making out. But when she lay in bed, her heart kept racing and her body couldn't wind down. She started fingering the tiny knob at the top of her slit, where her urge seemed to dwell. She had no name for it, nor did she know where rubbing it would take her. But she went on, and was amazed how wet she got. Concerned about her clean bed, she went to her bathroom and crouched over the toilet. Her fingers made squelching noises, and she felt hot moisture run down her thighs. What was it? Urine? Her period?

Bewildered, she tried to stop, trembling on her feet. She sniffed her fingers, smelling a new, musky smell. She turned and watched herself in the mirror, seeing a flushed face and wild eyes. The moisture on her thighs cooled down, and the hot feelings retracted until they only dwelt in the tiny, throbbing button between her legs. Getting cold, she grabbed her towel and cleaned her legs before returning to the warmth of her bed where she lay shivering.

One day, Juliana sat at the kitchen table, drinking tea with Aimée. They often did that, right before she had to leave for her waitressing job.

"You like going out with your beau," Aimée said, smiling. "Alec?" Juliana nodded, blushing. Aimée picked a crumb from the table.

"Is he nice?" Juliana nodded again. "Oh yes," she said.

"Good," the woman remarked, looking up and smiling again. "Is he your first boyfriend?"

Juliana considered the word 'boyfriend.' She guessed he was, although she didn't consider him a boy at all.

"Juliana," Aimée said, losing her smile. "I know this might be prying." She allowed a pause. "But I wonder if you've ever been with a man before."

Juliana stared at her; then she shook her head no.

"You should be careful, then," Aimée went on, placing a hand on one of Juliana's. "Some men seem nice, but all they want is... use you; and dump you afterward." Juliana tried to grasp her meaning, recalling their making out sessions.

"When I say 'no,' he stops," she whispered. Aimée sighed.

"Now does he?" she said; it didn't sound like a question. "Anyway," she went on, pushing a small packet over the table. "Always ask him to use this. If he doesn't want to, send him away. If he still insists, scream."

Juliana knew what was in the package, although she'd never seen a condom. She ran a finger along its edge.

"I would never... do that with him," she whispered. "I'm not supposed to until I get married." She looked up, knowing she blushed deeply. Aimée's hand closed over hers and the package.

"I know," she said. "But put it in your purse anyway."

The next day Aimée told her she'd made an appointment for her with their doctor. Having to lie down and spread her thighs wide was very embarrassing. The doctor was a woman, though, and that helped. She prodded inside Juliana's vagina with gloved fingers. It caused no arousal at all.

When she was finished they sat down and the doctor prescribed her birth control pills, explaining how to use them. Juliana protested that they were against her beliefs. The doctor looked up from her writing.

"Your beliefs?" she asked. "Or your parents'?" Juliana didn't know what to say. She took the receipt and went home.

Alec kissed her. They stood on the dance floor of a loud club where the lights were low. Juliana was the center of a maelstrom of bare limbs and half-naked bodies. Sweaty skin sparkled in the searching spotlights.

They had never been to a place like this before; she wondered if Alec ever had. Juliana felt overdressed in her white blouse and dark grey skirt. She also felt a wave of claustrophobia attack her. Wrestling free from his embrace, she panted that she was too hot. She had to repeat it much louder before he understood. Moments later they wrestled themselves out of the melee, finding a much cooler passage to the restrooms.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Stop saying that," Juliana blurted out, still panting. "It's my fault. I don't belong here; I'm a silly hick." He stepped forward to embrace her, but she turned away.

"I have to freshen up," she said, and went to the restrooms.

Sitting in a stall she cried, letting the tears run freely down her cheeks. She hated herself for not being a cool city girl; for not daring to be like the other girls; for selling sweet Alec short. What did he see in her? She could never be the woman he must be wanting. Look at her now -- a silly, snot-blubbering, backward hillbilly, afraid to dress sexily and make her date feel proud of her.

When her eyes ran dry she sat up. Maybe she should just try and run off, unseen. She opened the door, seeing two girls chatting away at the mirrors. Juliana sneaked past them. When she saw her own reflection she stopped. Her face was blotched, and her mascara had been smeared. Thank God she never used much. She splashed cold water into her face; it felt good. Only then did she see the eyes of the girls on her. She turned and fled, leaving the door open behind her.

"Juliana!"

She didn't stop. She ran out into the fresh night air, greeted by the humming energy of the city. Looking left and right she lost her purpose, if she ever had one. People ignored her, cars rushed by. She shivered.

"Juliana!" His hands gripped her shoulders from behind. He panted from running. "What's the matter, honey?" She didn't turn around.

"Leave me alone, Alec," she said. His hands forced her to look at him; she kept her eyes down.

"What did I do?" he asked.

He put his arm around her shoulder and they walked. She said 'sorry' and that it wasn't him, but her. He gave her his jacket against the cold and they sat down on a bench. She started crying again, hardly hearing what he said. He said a lot. Then he kissed her, his lips sliding on her tears and snot. She shirked closer into his embrace.

***

"Mrs. Austin?"

The smooth, insidious voice took her back to the present -- the posh office of the neurosurgeon who was supposed to save her husband. Her hands relaxed around her purse. The man smiled, or rather, his lips did. He pushed a white sheet of paper across the table. She looked at it and then looked up.

"We, err..," the man said. "We put together a plan of action, say. It has everything needed to save your husband."

Under the fancy heading of a private clinic was a long list of gibberish that left Juliana confused. What she did understand, though, were the amounts of money listed behind each bullet point. Her eyes traveled down to the bottom line. The total sum was staggering. She looked up, raising her eyebrows. His smile was still there. A pig, she thought, he looks like a pig, but his eyes... She'd seen live tigers in the Chicago zoo.

"We have insurance," she said. He shrugged. It made his jowls tremble.

"I know," he said. "This is after insurance, though." The absurdity hit her. She giggled.

"We could never pay that." Her voice sounded higher than she intended. His smile reached his eyes.

"Oh yes, " he said. "You could."