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“Too much information, huh?” She giggles and puts her hands over her face. “I guess I was a late bloomer.”
“I was way behind you,” I tell her. “I had my first date with Margot about a month after I moved to the area.”
“She was your first?” Seri bites her lip. “I mean, your first first?”
“You mean the first woman I slept with?”
“Yeah, that.”
“Yes,” I say. “I didn’t have much of a chance at a relationship before her. I spent most of my adult life locked up. Once I got out, I wandered around a bit and eventually found my way to Yellowknife. I was twenty-six when I met her.”
“When did you break up?”
“About three years ago—something like that anyway.”
“How many women have you dated since then?”
“None.”
“Are you twenty-nine now,” Seri asks, “or thirty?”
“I’ll be thirty in the spring.”
“The same as my sister would be.” She presses her lips together. “You don’t seem that old.”
“Late bloomer.” I give her a half smile.
“So, Margot—she’s the only woman you’ve ever…ever been with?”
“Well, aside from you, yeah.”
“Bishop!” Seri laughs and swipes my shoulder playfully. “We kissed once! It’s not like we’ve had sex!”
“We haven’t?” I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Just because we sleep together does not mean we’ve had sex!”
As Seri laughs off the very idea, I stare at her in disbelief.
All this time, I honestly believed she was just denying having sex for the same reason she denied stealing the donuts—because she was embarrassed by her behavior and didn’t want me to think she was normally like that. I figured it was easier for her to just pretend it didn’t happen, but as I watch her reaction, I see that’s not it at all.
She has no idea.
My insides feel like they’re plunging into my stomach as the implication of this hits me right in the gut, and I comprehend that she isn’t denying our tryst because she wants to forget about it or because she regrets it. She isn’t lying or pretending it didn’t happen. She honestly doesn’t remember that she jumped me.
Solo comes out from under the bed and crawls into Seri’s lap, meowing for attention. He doesn’t seem to think there is anything wrong with her. Aren’t animals supposed to sense such things?
She obviously remembers and admits to the kiss but nothing about what happened before then. She doesn’t remember how she spoke to me—the cursing and outrageous dirty-talk that I’d never even heard out of a woman’s mouth before—and she doesn’t remember shoving me down on the bed and grabbing my dick. She doesn’t know that she rode me violently and yelled at me to come inside of her.
Fuck…what if she isn’t on the Pill as I had assumed when she made that shameless demand?
What do I do now? Do I tell her that we have, genuinely, had intercourse and that she was the one who initiated it? Do I tell her
that I actually quite liked it and wouldn’t mind if it happened again? Should I ask her if she is, in fact, on birth control?
If she were, I would have seen her taking it.
A brand new panic builds inside me. Margot was older and couldn’t have children, and we were monogamous. I have never used a condom, certainly don’t have any here, and didn’t give it a second thought. What if I got Seri pregnant? If she is, and she starts having symptoms, would she think it was divine intervention? Maybe she’s on some birth control unfamiliar to me. I think there are patches or shots or other such things, but I don’t know for sure.
