The Virgin and the Virus

Lindsey waited. It was a long time before Pete spoke.

"Mona suggested that I be your partner for the study."

"My ... partner?" Lindsey's eyes went wide. "My sex partner??"

"Listen, it makes sense. You're more likely to recover if it's someone you know, someone you trust," he said, then he paused. "You do trust me, right?"

"Pete, you're ... married." She looked down at her ring. "And I'm ... not."

It sounded so insane to say it in the face of death, but it was true: she wanted so badly to keep the promise of purity that she had made to God.

"I know this is a really hard decision," he said. "But Mona and I agree, if this saves your life—if there's even a chance this saves your life, we think God will understand."

"Maybe this whole idea was all wrong from the beginning," Lindsey sobbed. "My purity. My ... virginity." Lindsey choked on the word. "It's one of my most prized possessions."

Her eyes fell, and she sobbed. "Maybe God wants me to die."

"Don't say that, Lindsey," Pete said. "God wouldn't ask that of you. It's not in his nature."

They both fell silent for several moments, each unsure of what to say.

Finally, Lindsey spoke.

"I'll think about it."

--

DAY 6

Lindsey had a sex drive. Really, she did.

It wasn't that she didn't want Pete that way, or men in general. It was just that her better instincts had always won out in the past.

Her better instincts, and her faith.

But when that strawberry blonde young waif of a girl had slipped that silver ring onto her finger one sunny Sunday morning at the front of her church, promising that she'd abstain from sex until the day she was married, she could have never predicted the cruel hand that Nature would deal her before she'd even hit thirty.

Even in her relatively short life, this wasn't the first time that Lindsey had felt the world twist her beliefs and commitments back on themselves, offering up impossible situations that made her question things she had previously thought were immutable.

Now, she was being forced to decide whether her sexual purity was worth sacrificing her life for.

She already knew what her answer was.

Lindsey glanced at the clock in her bedroom. 6:30.

She eyed herself in the mirror. She had carefully considered every item that she had placed on her body.

This would be the first time that she presented herself to a man. And, while it wouldn't be her husband that she was presenting to, it was still a moment that would not come a second time.

As Lindsey looked into the mirror, she had to admit, she didn't disapprove of the reflection staring back at her.

She could almost admit to herself that she was pretty.

Her wispy reddish-blonde hair fell in layers around her face. Her lips were stained a soft red, and her freckled cheeks bore just a hint of blush on the apples.

She'd picked a flirty white dress cut low in front that fell to her calves, with a slit that ran six inches up her left thigh. As she slipped on a pair of nude heels, she imagined what he would think of her. Imagined what thoughts he would let himself think.

Would he lust after her? Would he ... kiss her? Touch her? Not just put his penis inside her (God...), but actually touch her?

Touch her everywhere?

"Oh yeah," she moaned into the mirror. She drew a hand up her dress and over one breast, squeezing it hard, imagining it was his large, firm hand instead of her delicate, pale one.

"Touch me, Pete."

She knew that what she was considering in that moment was maybe more than what the situation called for. More than what was needed to improve her condition (at least, her medical condition). But it was an unavoidable urge.

Having sex with a man she admired, with a man who was her friend, would have always been bound to be more than just a clinical act.

She stared into the mirror, biting her lip as her thick lashes sparkled back at her.

She smiled. Then she licked her lips and giggled in spite of herself, a soft girly laugh of the kind that she hadn't allowed herself in weeks.

--

The clinic was a squat brown building a few blocks south of downtown. There were hardly any cars in the parking lot—hardly any cars at all near downtown, in fact. The quick spread of the virus had triggered aggressive lockdowns across the state.

A makeshift guard hut had been erected at the entrance to the parking lot with a large warning sign instructing all cars to stop and drivers to place their IDs on the dash where they would be clearly visible.

The guard stationed in the hut wore head-to-toe protective gear, squinting through his face shield as he leaned over the car to read the name on Lindsey's driver's license.

After checking his clipboard, the guard moved two traffic cones blocking the entrance and waved her through.

Inside, Lindsey stood in a waiting room that had been divided into spacious quadrants with no chairs. A large sign said, "Keep your distance," with an infographic instructing that only one person should stand in each quadrant.

After five minutes, a nurse with mask, gown and face shield came and administered a quick oral swab test, and then ushered Lindsey down a long hall to the exam room.

Except, this exam room was unlike any that Lindsey had ever seen.

Across the cold tile floor had been laid a thick gold and burgundy rug. At the center of the room was a massive California king bed that took up most of the space—appointed with soft, lavish sheets and a thick comforter, all in various tones of black, gray, red and gold.

The room was lit by three lamps, and the fluorescents overhead had been turned off.

"What is all this?" Lindsey asked with a small laugh.

"It's important for the study that you feel relaxed and at home," the nurse said, smiling. "Lindsey, if there's anything at all we can get for you, please let us know."

"This is so strange," Lindsey said, taking a hesitant step into the room. "Will someone be watching me—I mean, watching us?"

She thought suddenly about Pete, and her heart jumped. She smoothed the dress nervously against her thighs.

"Yes," the nurse said. "Since you consented to take part in the trial, you'll be closely monitored throughout the duration."

She motioned to the wall on their right. For some reason, Lindsey hadn't noticed that the wall was broken by a large two-way mirror that ran almost the length of the room.

"The clinicians will be watching from just behind that wall," the nurse said.

"Oh. OK..."

Lindsey looked nervously from the mirror back to the nurse.

"Where is Pete? —I mean, Dr. Yarborough?"

"He's running a few minutes late. But don't worry, just make yourself at home, and we'll bring him to the room as soon as he arrives."

Lindsey sat in a chair in the corner of the room, upholstered in fine-grain leather. She spread her legs wide and tipped her head back, trying not to focus on the intense burning between her thighs.

She tried to get used to the reality that she was being observed. It wasn't hard. Her body was its own kind of distraction.

If it hadn't been for the steadily growing heat that had been building inside her vaginal canal for the past two hours, she might have convinced herself that she was over the virus. But sitting in this exam room-slash-exhibitionist sex den, the feeling of lust and fire in her belly was now the strongest it had been since the disease had come on.

"Ugh..."

Lindsey's toes wriggled inside the beige heels. Her knees wobbled back and forth, clamping together, jerking apart. Her hands clutched at the arms of the leather chair and her teeth clenched tight.

My body's torturing me, she thought.

Then the door clicked open quietly.

Lindsey looked up, expecting—hoping—to see Pete. Instead, it was another nurse, in full protective gear.

Or at least, that's what Lindsey thought at first.

But then she got a closer look at the eyes behind the face mask, and she blinked in surprise.

"Mona."

Lindsey sat up, suddenly very conscious of how much skin she was showing—and of how wide her legs had been spread.

"Lindsey, hi," the woman said.

Mona was a petite woman, and the oversized protective gear swallowed her.

"Listen, I wanted to talk to you," she said.

Her eyes traveled up Lindsey's body, past the plunging neckline of the white dress, and up to her face, where her pink lips glowed and her eyes were brushed with a subtle chorus of shadow, mascara and a fierce dark liner. In the light from the nearby lamps, Lindsey's strawberry blonde hair framed her features in a wavy halo, painting the young virgin in a kind of reverential portrait of innocent beauty.

"Wow," Mona said. "You look gorgeous, Lindsey."

"Thanks," Lindsey said. She twisted a strand of her hair between her fingers.

"Hey, I know this is weird," the woman said. She stood near the door, careful not to approach too closely.

Before Lindsey could respond, Mona produced something in her right hand, laying it on a low wooden table near the door.

"They're saying that this trial is saving women's lives," Mona said. "They're saying the safer you feel, the more vulnerable and open that you can be, the better your chance of improvement."

She gestured at the item on the table. It was a slim gold chain with a small cross, barely three quarters of an inch in size.

"That was mine," Mona said. "I wore it on our wedding night, the first time Pete and I ... made love."

Lindsey was dumbstruck. She stared at the slender, pretty woman behind the mask.

"Pete and I talked," Mona said. "I just want you to know, he wouldn't be doing this for you—with you, unless he had my full blessing."

The woman looked down at the floor, slightly nervous. "I have to admit, it was hard to get my mind around at first," she said, "but this virus is so unusual, I guess this is just par for the course."

Lindsey nodded.

Mona continued. "Pete and I agreed with all our hearts that this was the right thing to do. That we would do anything to save the life of such a dear friend as you've been to us."

Lindsey was touched.

A tear formed at the corner of her eye. What Mona said about Lindsey was at least equally true of Mona and Pete, if not more. The couple had always been there for her, and they had some of the most caring and nurturing spirits that Lindsey had ever encountered.

"Thank you Mona," she said. Then she laughed in spite of herself. "If I could hug you right now, I would."

Mona laughed too. "I know," she said. "Once this is all over, I'll definitely take you up on a hug. I think we could all use one."

"Will you be ... staying?" Lindsey didn't know why she had asked the question. She immediately regretted it.

Mona glanced at the glass wall, where the medical researchers had likely been listening in on their conversation. Then she looked back to Lindsey. Her face was hard to read.

"Do you want me to?" Mona asked.

Without thinking, Lindsey nodded.

"OK then," Mona said softly. "I will."

She gave Lindsey a small smile. "I'll be right in there if you need me."

"Thank you Mona," Lindsey said.

The woman left.

Before the door could even latch behind her, it opened again, and Pete stood in the doorway.

Lindsey's heart skipped three beats and her breath caught.

Whatever it was supposed to feel like to encounter the man who was about to take your virginity, Lindsey suddenly realized that she was not quite prepared for it to happen like this.

She instantly regretted asking this man's wife to watch them as they did this incredibly intimate thing.

Every ounce of resolve that she'd had evaporated.

"Hi there," Pete said.

Lindsey blushed. "Hi." She rose from the chair nervously. The heels felt suddenly too tall, and her knees shook.

Pete crossed to her, and she studied him as he approached.

He was in beige slacks and a light blue Oxford, with brown loafers on his feet. His hair spilled in loose, handsome waves from his head, and he had shaved his chin clean of stubble. As he neared her, she could smell the faint leathery scent of his cologne.

Right away, she noticed that he was eyeing her body. She could almost feel the lurid probe of his gaze, like invisible fingers dancing their way hungrily up over her, mentally peeling off the clothes that she had worn just for him.

And if she'd had any questions before about whether this man would be willing to touch her—this man who was both her doctor and her married, Christian friend—as soon as he reached her, the questions answered themselves.

The two of them embraced, and even though they had hugged each other before, to Lindsey this wasn't like anything she'd ever felt with this man. It felt like flying. In the dark room, Pete's touch lit up her body, and she knew.

He wants me.

He pulled her close, and her heart pounded like artillery fire against his chest.

He wants me.

He really wants me.

She moaned against his shoulder.

She wrapped her hands around his waist, and his own hands slinked up and down her back.

The feeling of his fingers brushing against the exposed skin below her neckline made her shiver. He lay his head on her shoulder, and his cheek brushed hers.

Lindsey was suddenly aware that Pete's thin slacks gave him no cover for a fast-growing erection.

But her friend made no attempt to hide his arousal.

Instead, his hands slid down her back all the way to her butt and clutched her firmly. The gesture was so unexpected that Lindsey gasped.

"Mmm," Pete moaned into her ear.

He pulled her hips against his so that his healthy bulge pressed straight into her groin, separated only by a few scraps of fabric.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, the faint traces of regret and propriety doing their best to claw her back into the realm of sanity.

"Exactly what you need me to do," Pete said.

It was true, she thought. She'd read the study's initial findings. Everything about their encounter should be earnest and sensual, it had said.

It wasn't enough for a man to simply penetrate a woman. It seemed to matter, the researchers had written, that the couple were each invested emotionally in the experience.

There was also another detail in the findings that Lindsey had been shocked to read. Her mind began to wander back to it, but suddenly Pete's large hand was on her breast, and nothing else mattered.

"Oh," Lindsey said. She closed her eyes and tried to remember that this was OK. That it was pure, and that it was necessary. It wasn't hard for her to accept that she wanted it, but her mind was having trouble catching up to her body.

"Is this OK?" Pete asked.

I have to do this, Lindsey thought. I have to go at this full-force.

You could die if you don't, Lindsey.

"Yes," she said, and she suddenly meant it with everything in her.

Her hand reached for his crotch, gripping his cock through the slacks. Her fingers spread around his girth. He's huge, she realized with slight alarm. And he was so stiff that she almost couldn't believe it was flesh beneath the fabric, and not steel.

"Oh, that feels good, Lindsey," Pete said. "But let me stop you real quick."

She flushed red, suddenly embarrassed as Pete pulled back. What had she done wrong?

All of it, she thought. All of this is wrong.

She suddenly began to regret everything.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's OK, it's not you," he said. "I just wanted to do something before we go further."

He glanced down at the table where Mona had left the gold chain. He picked it up, holding it in his hand as he looked at it. A smile warmed his face.

"She left this for you," he said, looking up and meeting Lindsey's eye. Lindsey nodded, catching her breath.

Pete stepped forward, reaching around her neck and fastening the chain behind it, arranging the cross in the center of her chest. His fingers brushed it, running down over the metal to her skin, stopping briefly in the small valley between her breasts.

"Lindsey, can I say a prayer?"

It was such an unexpected question in the moment, but Lindsey just nodded. They each closed their eyes, and Pete took her in his arms again as he began to pray.

"Dear Lord," he started, "thank you for life, for the breath that we can each draw right now. I pray that you bless what's about to happen, that you consecrate it in your spirit and use it for your purposes."

His hand moved up to cradle Lindsey's head against his shoulder, stroking her wispy hair.

"God, I know we probably both feel a little strange right now," Pete continued, "but we know that you see everything, and that you have a plan, even when we can't clearly see what that plan is."

She stepped closer to him, nuzzling his chest. His words made her feel safe, protected.

"And we know, God, that this—this act that we're about to share together—we know that this is good, and right, and pure. Use it God. Use it to heal Lindsey's body and make her whole again."

Pete smoothed a hand down her back, giving her a slight squeeze.

"It's in your holy name that we pray, amen."

Lindsey shuddered. She looked up at him, and her eyes and cheeks were stained with tears.

Pete laughed a small laugh, using a thumb to clear the moisture from her face. "Sweetheart," he said. "Hi."

"Hi," Lindsey said.

She smiled, and they kissed for the first time.

God, thank you, Lindsey thought as their lips met.

His were large and firm, and his tongue slipped into her mouth like a glass of cool water, brushing her tongue and dancing with it like they were yin and yang, like two parts of a whole.

In the heels she was almost his height, but she wanted to wrap her arms around his neck, to be as close to his face as she could. She wriggled against him, her body squirming for purchase.

As they kissed, she suddenly felt the dress sag around her shoulders, and with a start she realized that Pete had unzipped it.

"Ungh." She slipped it down her arms and it fell away.

They broke the kiss, and Pete stepped back and appraised her.

In the lamplight Lindsey stood poised, with the fabric of the white dress circling her on the floor like the pool of a spotlight, wearing just her heels and her underwear. She wore a nude bra—a lacy, see-through B-cup that she almost couldn't believe she had convinced herself to wear—and a matching thong that rode low on her hips below her trim stomach.

For the first time, Lindsey felt the presence of other eyes. The doctors behind the glass, looking in at her. Mona.

And again, the doubts started to creep in.

Pete interrupted her thoughts. "You look radiant Lindsey," he said. She looked at him and managed a smile.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

She ran a hand up over the bra, fingering her nipple through the fabric. Her underwear was so flimsy and light that she felt naked. Naked, and alive, she thought. I feel absolutely alive.

She cocked a hip at her handsome friend and narrowed her eyes, as if she were daring him to keep his hands off of her.

Pete, of course, had no such plans.

She was in his arms before she could blink, and this time his hands groped her like he had never wanted a girl more.

She jumped with surprise at the sudden explosion of passion, and she quickly reciprocated with a burst of her own.

Lindsey's legs had always been her best asset, long and toned and smooth. Pete seemed to like them too. His hands roved up and down her bare thighs, pulling a leg up to wrap around his waist as he thrust her back against the wall of the dim room.

The rigid shaft in his pants was a force of nature, burrowing against the fabric of the thong. Lindsey suddenly just wanted every scrap removed, wanted him inside her. She wanted it like it was a primal necessity.

It is a primal necessity, she thought. It has to happen.

In an instant, before she could fully control them, her hands were at his waist and she was unbuckling his belt. Pete reached up and began to unbutton his shirt, stepping out of his shoes as he did.