Page 21 of Nave
I’d just lain there in shock and confusion as he freed himself—but only his erection—then slid on a condom, moved in, and, well. Everyone knew what happened next.
As one can imagine, there was no actual pleasure in the act. It was weird and mechanical and over very, very quickly.
Then when it was over, Ben had used rubber gloves to remove the condom and clean up the paper towels and picnic blanket, tossing them all in the bathroom and demanding I take another shower.
Which I’d been glad to do. I needed privacy to alternate between laughing and wanting to cry. Because… what the hell was that, right?
By the time I was clean again, I had myself convinced that it was just new intimacy jitters. Just the awkwardness you sometimes felt with a new partner. That it was a good sign that Ben wanted me that way. Even if the whole act did nothing for me.
Maybe this is the part where other women would have cut and run. But, well, it wasn’t the first time I’d been with a man who had no interest in my pleasure, who didn’t do foreplay, who didn’t last long enough for the sensations to really build.
So it wasn’t completely new to me.
I’d climbed back into my bed alone. I always slept alone. Ben refused to share a bed, muttering about drool and sweat. And I’d been something, you know, close to happy.
The thing was, it wasn’t just new intimacy jitters.
Every single encounter with Ben from that point on went down exactly the same way. It became, I don’t know, routine. Something you went through the motions of. Like brushing your teeth or shaving your legs.
As the years stretched on and my feelings for Ben went from confusion to disgust, to outright hatred, I became increasingly glad that his sex drive was much lower than an average man’s. It meant I only had to endure him maybe once or twice a month. Less, even, when I learned that I could rebel by refusing to bathe on his personal schedule. Even cutting down to once a day was ‘revolting.’ So you could imagine his dismay if I deigned to skip a day. He didn’t even want to be in the same room with me.
Of course, the appearance of Edith made it impossible to keep engaging in those little rebellions, lest I put her comfort or life at risk.
So, I’d needed to start enduring Ben’s attentions again.
But not only was it safe, in that Ben would never let some part of him touch a woman bare like that, but I’d also had an implant placed right when we’d started dating.
The odds of getting pregnant were next to nothing.
Except that, over time, implants became less effective. And condoms had a ten to fifteen percent failure rate.
The universe was a bitch sometimes.
Or maybe it had divine insight.
Knowing the only thing that would have made me brave enough to find a way out was to never, ever want my child to have to live the way I did.
I let out a huff of a laugh.
“Well,” I told Nave, “it involved as little touching as humanly possible,” I admitted. “And it was always, you know, safe. But…”
Nave watched me for a second, seemingly at a loss for what to say. “Have another donut,” he settled on.
The laugh burst out of me at that.
“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “My father always shows understanding and concern with food.”
“That’s sweet.” And I really did want a jelly donut.
“Does Ben know?”
“God, no,” I said over a big bite, powdered sugar puffing up in the air around me.
“But you’re sure? You don’t want to grab a test?”
“I’m sure. I had to fake periods so he didn’t suspect anything. And I’ve been lucky enough not to have morning sickness.”
“You’re not showing.”
