Page 22 of Sex Ed

He does. I thought I’d seen Ed blush before now. I was wrong. If the whites of his eyes could blush now, they would.

‘You have your breasts out in my kitchen,’ he states plainly, his palms upturned.

‘Is this a hygiene issue? Like the shoes?’

‘No, but… my curtains are open.’ He points towards the window and a flat across the way where an Asian family seem to be enjoying a quiz show on the television. And the sight of my bare breasts.

ED

I’ve seen breasts before. Naturally, in films and porn and in art museums where you can’t turn a corner without some Titian nipples in your face, but Mia’s are the first I’ve seen in the flesh. It’s not that I hadn’t noticed Mia’s boobs before (she sometimes goes a little too low-cut in the summer), but I hadn’t really anticipated seeing them in my kitchen or her to be so comfortable with whipping them out whilst our takeaway sat there getting cold. Pretty sure my neighbours hadn’t anticipated seeing them either.

Had I planned the night? In my head, yes. I thought sex would be an add-on to our regular takeaway evening given that there was time and opportunity and space. I anticipated that she would have turned up in a dress perhaps, with trainers as I know she can’t walk in heels, and we’d have had a lovely candlelit takeaway and then made a quiet sojourn hand-in-hand to the bedroom where we would have had the opportunity to indulge in some quiet yet sensitive first-time lovemaking.

‘WATCH ME FLIP THIS PRAWN CRACKER IN MY MOUTH!’

I forgot, though, that this is Mia.

As soon as I saw the aghast faces of my neighbours through the window, I tried to cover her up with an oven glove and I realised that everything I’d planned in terms of creating a mood and wooing her was a bad idea. So, I changed out of my suit into jeans, I didn’t burn anything with a fragrance, we migrated the takeaway to the sofa.

‘That’s very good, you’re like a seal,’ I say, clapping.

This is not romance. I’m not sure what this is or, indeed, where it is going.

‘You really should try this tofu,’ she tells me. ‘It’s very good.’

I watch as she piles her Szechuan tofu high, raking through her rice with her fork. Whereas having sex with Mia is all I can think about, she seems unbelievably chilled around me. Nothing fazes her, does it? I just want to get to the point where I’m not preoccupied by the thought, where it no longer becomes the elephant in the room. All I know is that it won’t be tonight.

‘So, I just want to be sure. If not tonight, shall we maybe put a date in the calendar for our…’

‘Grand de-virgining?’ Mia jokes, laughing so hard at her own joke that she chokes a little. ‘Are we seriously diarising this? Well, the weekend is a no-go – I’m out with Beth and then a birthday lunch with my family.’

I look at her curiously, knowing my social life mainly involves running on my own and then meeting Henry from Geography online so we can playCall of Duty.

‘Next Wednesday, after work?’ she suggests like a doctor’s receptionist. ‘Gives us both time to prepare.’

I nod blankly though in the back of my mind wonder what sort of state her pubic hair is in that it will take one week to tame. A week’s time it is. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. In a week’s time, I won’t be a virgin. I don’t know how to process that. My mind races with a million and one questions.

‘Well, we’ve sorted that much. Can I ask you something?’ I say, picking up some noodles with my chopsticks.

‘Shoot.’

‘When did you lose your virginity? I’m sorry if that’s a personal question,’ I spurt out.

‘Ed, you’ve seen my boobs. We have no secrets now. I was sixteen. I was dating a lad called Toby at school and we did it after school one day when his parents were both still at work.’

‘Do you still keep in touch with Toby?’

She laughs under her breath. ‘That would be a no. I don’t think we were destined to be together. He still lives locally and last time I stalked him on Facebook, he was an electrician.’

‘You stalk him?’

She wobbles her head from side to side. ‘It’s a turn of phrase. I can’t speak for all women but sometimes I do get drunk and search for people to check in on them.’

‘That’s…’

‘Sad and desperate, I know. It wasn’t hugely special. He had a massive poster of Lewis Hamilton on his wall and all the sex we had afterwards, he kept making “vroom vroom” noises, every time he thrust into me.’ She relates this detail so casually, shovelling food into her face at the same time. I’m not sure how it’s possible to be able to see her back teeth while she does this.

‘Really?’ I reply, cackling.

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