Mark & Nia: A Tutored First Time

Backstory

Mark is 18, orphaned at 8. Very shy, no experience with girls beyond kissing.

5' 11", 150 pounds. Skinny and gangly.

Grew up in a smallish Michigan town, 90% white.

Did well in school and on the SAT, won scholarship to a Detroit university. Student body still majority white, but more balanced than his high school.

Befriended by two black Senior coeds who undertook his sexual education; slowly, in a show-and-tell manner. "His girls," Candace and Keisha.

A Psychology grad student from a historically-black sorority is enlisted to continue it. Mark learned of this 4 days ago, and that there'll be an interview he must pass.

It's October 2005.

Try to remember yourself at 18 as you read on.
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About noon my cellphone rang, a local number I didn't recognize (it must be her!), "H-hello?"

"Hello, Mark. Rita Dominic at Zeta Phi." A sexy accent I couldn't place. There's an exchange student in my dorm from Ghana, and Rita's accent kind of sounded like his: British English as spoken by Africans; you see it on TV sometimes.

"Hello, Miss Dominic," I said, an octave deeper than normal, trying to sound more confident than I felt. (Because I felt like I could throw up, truth be told, so many butterflies in my stomach.)

"Are we still on for 4 o'clock?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good, I'll meet you in the café in the student union. Wear your Domino's uniform. And boxers."

"Yes, ma'am, I'll be there." She hung up without saying goodbye. What kind of woman is this? So sure of herself on the phone: not even asking if it was me, not making 4:00 an option, and directing me what to wear, down to my underwear! Expecting no complaint, then not even saying goodbye.

But the girls had set this up for me, and I didn't think they'd send me into a situation where I'd be hurt or ridiculed or anything. The direction of my nightmares the last three nights notwithstanding, I was eager to meet some of the ladies at Zeta Phi to see if I hit it off with any of them, whatever that process looked like.

At 3:50 I was in the café drinking a hot chocolate. Sitting in the far corner, back to the wall, where I could see the large entrance area that opens out into the student union. Trying not to look too eager, glancing up only occasionally. 3:55, no Rita. 4:00, no Rita. 4:05, no Rita. Now I was starting to get worried: was I in the right place? There's only one "café in the student union." Was the time on my phone right? I didn't wear a watch, so I asked the girl at the counter: yes, it's 4:06. Probably a power trip then and she's being "fashionably late."

At 4:09 I saw her, and like Candace had said in her note, there was no missing her. Tall, maybe as tall as me or even a bit more in those heels. Dark skinned, very dark, like from-Africa dark. Curvaceous body, solid, not thin or lithe. Not big either, but with the hips of an African fertility goddess.

Her clothes were an explosion of reds tending to burgundy. A jacket-and-skirt affair in something stiff like wool. All angles and sharp lines. I supposed this was a "power suit" for women, worn in a business environment. For when you wanted to make a statement.

And a large-brimmed hat, also red. The kind that's more fashion statement than functional. Floppy, the brim being a stiff mesh-type material, see-through. The front flopped (or folded?) down over much of her face, almost like a veil.

"Hello, Mark." No mention of being late.

"Hello, Miss Dominic."

"You may call me Rita." Not, 'you can call me Rita,' like anyone else would say, but you may. This woman is definitely in charge of herself and her interactions with others.

"So, tell me about yourself, Mark."

I proceeded to tell her about Ann Arbor, parents died when I was young, foster homes, group home, full-ride scholarship at WSU. I thought about telling her about Candace and Keisha and our budding friendship, but figured she already knew that. I didn't pick up any kind of Oh you poor thing vibe when I was telling her about being an orphan and foster care. She was listening, but more coldly processing than reacting.

"You must've gotten good grades in high school to get that scholarship. SAT scores?"

"Yes, ma'am, A's and B's. I aced the Math part of the SAT, and scored 99^th percentile on the Verbal."

"Impressive." Not, 'impressive!', just a flat, 'impressive.'

"And what are you studying here?"

"Engineering, probably will be Mechanical, but I'm keeping my options open for now."

"Understandable. That's a good choice, Engineering, for a smart young man like you." That caused me to blush a bit.

"Have you ever had a girlfriend, Mark?"

"No, ma'am, not like a long-term girlfriend. I've only been on a few dates."

"And these dates, did they quickly escalate sexually?"

"No, ma'am. I—I'm still a virgin," which she knew already, or she wouldn't be interviewing me.

"But on a first date, have you ever felt a girl's breasts, or put your hands down her pants?"

"No ma'am, I'm too shy to do anything like that! Unless I've really gotten to know a girl and she signals that's what she wants."

"Good, I like the way you phrased that. But you have touched a girl's breasts and vagina, haven't you?"

I blushed at the mention of those two words in a public area, and wished Miss Rita would keep her voice down. But she didn't seem to much care what was overheard or by whom. "Yes, ma'am, once. The same girl."

"And you just decided you'd touch her like that." Accusing, not leading.

"No, ma'am! She started it. We were in the same foster home, I was 15 and she was a year older, and one day walking home together from school a thunderstorm came up and we ducked inside an abandoned house, and..." I stopped, ashamed and embarrassed at the memory of it.

"Go on, Mark."

"Well, this girl was kind of 'fast' I guess they call it. She told me she had a crush on me, then pulled me into a back room and lifted her shirt. And then she made me touch her over her bra and over her...panties. And she touched me through my pants..."

"Is that all that happened?"

"Yes, Miss Rita, that's all. I got scared, and the rain had let up so I said 'Let's go' and we went home."

"Did she ever try to get you alone again?"

"Yes, once, in similar circumstances. But I'd started carrying an umbrella after that, so I took it out and said, 'Let's keep walking!'"

"How did she treat you after that?"

"Well she always seemed angry with me then, and started telling people I was probably gay and stuff. I guess because I wouldn't touch her like she wanted."

"Are you gay, Mark, or maybe bisexual?" Not accusatorial, strictly clinical.

"NO, ma'am!! I love women, I love everything about them, their looks, their bodies, the way they talk, the way they smell, everything!"

"That was a good answer, Mark. From what I can tell you're an intelligent, respectful young man. I think you'll be a good fit for Zeta Phi. Come with me."

I followed her to the parking lot where we got into a small Mercedes sedan. She drove to the Hilton and parked in the parking garage.

"Wait here 10 minutes, then take that pizza box in the back and come up to room 604. Lock the doors when you leave."

I'd delivered many times to the Hilton, but always parked in the unloading circle, so I watched which way Rita walked to enter the hotel. I would've watched her anyway though, she was so stunning, but I did want to see which way I should go. I thought it pretty clever of her to have me in my Domino's uniform, and to have an empty Domino's box so it would look like I was just there delivering. But why the boxers directive?

Ten minutes seemed like an hour, but I got out with the pizza box, holding it horizontal in case anyone was looking, locked the doors, then headed toward the door Rita had gone in. I had to adjust myself on the way because I was becoming aroused at what might be waiting for me. I was fantasizing that when Rita opened the door she'd be wearing just a black bra and panties (and maybe those heels still!), and that she'd take over my sexual education herself where the girls had left off.

I got off on the 6^th floor, found 604, knocked on the door, and waited. And waited many seconds more. And then started panicking.

She DID say '604' didn't she?!? Oh God, I'm at the wrong room! No, she's playing a trick on me and didn't even go into the room! She probably hid and watched me go by, then jumped in her car and sped off. Oh Mark, you're too trusting!

I'd just screwed up my courage to knock again when the door opened and it was Rita. In the same red outfit as before. Which deflated my fantasy but was better than the alternatives.

"Well hello, young man, that was fast! Come in." Acting like she didn't know me, I guess in case anyone saw or heard. Playing up the whole 'anonymous pizza delivery guy' thing. But who invites the pizza guy into their room unless...?

I stepped in, Rita backing up only enough for me to squeeze in and let the door close. The layout of the room had a restroom to my left, and Rita took the empty box from me and put it on the counter there. Beyond her was a short hall, and past that I could see a dimly lit room, a dresser and desk, a TV, and the very ends of two beds.

"Ready to meet a new friend?"

"Y-yes, ma'am."

"Good! Follow me."

As she led me down the short hallway I saw more and more of the farther bed come into view, until I could see a young lady sitting on the edge of it, near the nightstand between the two beds.

"Nia, would you please introduce yourself to Mark?"

Nia stood, smoothed her modest dress down, turned toward me, sort of curtsied, and in a soft voice said, "Hello, Mark. I'm Nia, pleasure to meet you." She extended her right hand to me. Not in a male handshake position, but like ladies do, flat, as if I was supposed to kiss her hand. But I didn't know that at the time.

"Hello, Nia. I'm Mark, and the pleasure is all mine." I took her hand in my upturned right one and gave it a little shake, when Rita said, "Mark, a suitor kisses a lady's hand when first meeting her."

Suitor!? Was this young girl to be the one to teach me? She looked so innocent! And as young as me. But was she....'experienced'? I bent at the waist to kiss Nia's hand, held lightly in mine, and a jolt went through my body. I'd just put my lips on a girl's skin (besides lips) for the first time! I released her hand and the kiss before what I hoped was "too long", but the smell and light taste of her made me giddy.

"Nia, is Mark's appearance pleasing to you?"

"Yes, ma'am," in a demure voice with downcast eyes.

"And Mark, is Nia attractive to you?

"Yes, ma'am," trying not to sound too eager.

"Good, then I think we have a firm basis from which to start. Both of you please sit on the other bed side-by-side, holding hands." Rita then sat opposite us on the other bed, where Nia had been.

I should tell you a little about Nia's looks. Remember Ashley from The Fresh Prince? She didn't so much look like her, but had that same build, and the same kind of fresh, innocent face. She was lithe and not voluptuous like a lot of the black girls I'd seen in town and school. And she was very cute and young and pure, the kind of girl you want to take care of and protect.

"I've brought you two together because you're each painfully shy and so don't have a lot of experience with the opposite sex. With your permission, I'd like to take you through the stages of courtship and sexual experience and help you learn to express yourselves naturally with your partners."

Nia and I nodded in agreement, and if she was like me, blushing too. She had lightly squeezed my hand at 'express yourselves,' and I squeezed hers back. It was so exciting just to be sitting here holding this lovely girl's hand, and I hoped the feeling was similar for her.

"We'll go at a pace that's comfortable for you both, and you can slow down or stop the process whenever you want. And— we won't be going all the way to sexual intercourse." A sigh of relief from me, and a squeeze from Nia's hand meant she probably felt the same way.

"Now, turn toward each other and tell each other about yourselves, starting from childhood to now. Parents, sibling, pets, the things that make you happy or sad, anything you'd like your new friend to know about you. Nia, you start while I set the mood."

Rita turned on some soft music, then lit three candles, placing one on the nightstand beside Nia, one on the desk where she had some notebooks and things out, and one on the dresser. She then turned off all the lights so that the only light in the room was the flickering candles (the heavy drapes were closed). She then seated herself at the desk at the end of the other bed and began writing.

Nia told me she'd grown up in Kalamazoo, a town that sounded a little more racially mixed than my own. Her mother was a teacher, father worked in a factory, she had a younger sister and then a brother. She told me about the dogs she'd had growing up, the latest being a toy poodle she loved a lot which would sleep with her. She told me about her first date (10^th grade, a black boy), then a few later dates in higher grades with black boys mostly, but one white boy also. Her sexual experience was similar to mine, but not as forced and unwanted as mine was. She'd never actually touched a penis except through clothes twice, and had never been directly touched there herself.

I then told her all about myself, most of the details of which I've given here already, including my one somewhat traumatic sexual experience.

"Good, that's a great start, young people. Do you feel like you know each other better now? Yes? And based on what you've heard do you think you could be friends, and maybe eventually more?"

Nia looked at me and nodded several times, a timid smile on her face. I repeated her nods, probably a goofy grin on my face.

"Good! What we're developing here is chemistry. I could show you all the physical ways to give pleasure to your partner, but without some kind of bond, without chemistry, it tends to feel hollow, like something is missing." Rita paused to let that sink in, and we both nodded to indicate that we understood, that makes sense.

"Okay, what I've done here was sort of speed up the 'getting to know each other' phase. You might've been classmates, or lived on the same block, and just in the course of knowing each other, especially if you'd started 'talking to' each other, you would've learned all those things about each other. But it would've taken time."

"And I had you hold hands to fast-track the physical bonding. It's very simple, and very primal. You guys were communicating with your hands, weren't you?"

Bashfully, we admitted we were. And squeezed each other's hands again.

"Good, so what we've done is compress the normal courtship ritual that might be weeks long into just a few minutes. But Nia, do you feel like you fully know Mark? Or are there things about him you'd like to know still?"

"No, ma'am— I mean, yes, ma'am. I'd like to know more about him."

"Good. And Mark, I know it's the same for you, because I sense that you're a romantic, and before you can feel physically attracted to a woman, you want to first get to know her, yes?" (Remember that Rita has that British-African accent, and I'm not doing it justice here, but try to read her that way.)

"Yes, ma'am."

"Okay, then for the next exercise we'll add visual stimulation by pretending it's summertime and you two are on a date at the beach. You've had a few little dates, a high school basketball game, watched a movie together while holding hands, a pizza parlor with friends after the Homecoming game, those sorts of things. Maybe a hug and a peck on the cheek or lips as you separate for the night. Got the idea?" Nods.

"Good, so you're at the beach (let me turn the lights back on). Nia, please take your dress off." Nia had a bikini on under the dress, probably specified by Rita. It was smallish, but not terribly revealing. Not that it could be, with Nia's small breasts and petite bottom, but to me she looked terrifically sexy in it.

"So while you're at the beach, setting up your spot, playing in the surf, etc., Mark, you would've been sneaking glances at Nia's body—" I had started to protest, but Rita's look said, Yes you would've and you know it! I did know it, but still, I was embarrassed by her stating it as fact.

"—so in the interest of time, let's compress that: Nia, please turn around slowly and let Mark see your whole body. Perfect."

When Nia had done so and was looking at me again, it was with a doubtful, questioning look: Do you like what you see? Am I pretty enough? I tried to assure her with my smile, my eyes, and appreciative nods that I thought she was beautiful, face and body.

"Now Mark, take your shirt and pants off." "Good, your boxers look somewhat like swim trunks, that's great. Turn so Nia can see your whole body." So that's why the boxers!

"Okay, young people, up on the bed, sit facing each other, knees crossed and touching each other's, and hold both hands now. Good. Mark, you go first this time, ask Nia all the questions you want, all the many things you want to know about her."

Let me just say that sitting across from this young, light-brown-skinned girl in her bikini, our knees touching and our hands held across them, was pretty exciting for me. And yet my manhood wasn't much aroused, which I was thankful for because I think I'd be embarrassed in front of Nia at this point, even though that's ostensibly why we were both here. I attributed it to me really liking her already, and had started thinking of her as someone who could become my girlfriend. And like I said before, she's small and petite and so cute that I wanted to protect her and care for her, not affront her with my engorged penis.

With Rita back at the desk writing, Nia and I spent probably the next thirty minutes getting to know each other better: What's your favorite song? TV show? Do you like to read? How did you feel when your dog died? Favorite movie? Ohmygosh, wasn't that scene in Scary Movie funny? What's the craziest thing you've ever done? What kind of food do you like? Have you ever been out of Michigan? What was that like?

All those things and experiences that tend to shape who a person becomes. Lots of giggling, lots of "mine too!", just lots of realization of our shared experiences. By the end of it we were looking each other directly in the eyes and felt a lot closer to each other (speaking for me, though I think I Nia felt the same).

"That was great, guys! You feel like you know each other more intimately, don't you? Well you should. Most couples don't build that solid base of feeling like they really know the other person for months or years. Sometimes never, to be honest."

"So with that as a foundation, I want you two to see each other sexually now. Imagine what it might feel like to be intimate with this person. Mark, I could tell you were trying to be a gentleman by maintaining eye contact with Nia, but I want you to look at her now as a man looks at a woman. Start with her hairline...now her ears, her eyes...nose...lips. Linger on the lips, imagine what they would feel like to kiss, what they would feel like on your skin. Nia, you do the same with Mark now, stopping at his lips."