Ernesto brushed his teeth with extra vigour that day, then he scraped his tongue. He combed his hair, cut his nails and then put on his best clothes. This was his big day. He was sure of it. Today, after four years, the beautiful love story of Ernesto and Ruth would finally get its happy ending. There really should be a rousing soundtrack for a kiss that, were they TV characters, the fans would have waited years for. They'd been friends since they had met as college freshmen. Now graduation day was approaching, what could be a more stunning, more appropriate conclusion to the tale?
She'd turned him down once or twice, but everyone knew that persistence was sometimes required to get the girl. Love would find a way in the end. It always did.
Starbucks was crowded, even for a Saturday. Ernest arrived first and grabbed a table, then ordered two drinks and a packet of chocolate coins for Ruth. Five minutes after the appointed time, his face lit up as the door opened, and she bustled in.
Ah, that shoulder-length, blonde hair and those beautiful blue eyes! Those round, blossoming cheeks, pink in the winter cold. She was so elegant in that coat. He rather thought she had dressed up for him.
"Hey, Ernest!"
"Hi!"
"Sorry, I'm late."
"No problem."
"To be honest, I wasn't coming from home. I...stayed at Marco's last night."
Ernest froze. His heart rate rose to beat until it was thumping as hard as he had ever known it to. As he took in her news, a vague feeling of nausea grew in his stomach. If she had been a doctor delivering the dread sentence of death, her words could not have pierced him more. He knew he had to master himself, so he swallowed hard, took a deep breath and said,
"Oh? So how was it?"
"Uffff," she said, "Vigorous. That guy has got stamina, eh? We tumbled about the bed...."
Ernest tuned out briefly. In his mind's eye, Ruth had tumbled about in his bed almost nightly. He had beaten himself sore over her svelte thighs and curvaceous breasts. Ruth continued,
"He pissed me off at the end, though."
"Oh?" said Ernest hopefully.
"Yeah, he..." she leaned in and whispered confidentially, "came in my mouth without asking."
"Ewww, gross!" was what he said.
But what he thought was, 'I would never have done that, sweetheart. I'd have spent every minute on your pleasure and, when the time came, I'd have lovingly planted our baby inside you.'
"I don't mind swallowing occasionally, but you should always check with a girl."
Ernest's eyes were damp suddenly.
"Are you trying to hurt me, Ruth?"
Ruth frowned, looked away, then said firmly,
"Ernest, don't. Alright. Just don't go there again. I like you as a friend, we've been over this. I told you about last night partly because you need to accept that we're not going to happen."
"Ruth, I..."
"Ernest, the topic is closed, permanently."
"Will you at least tell me why?"
Ruth took a deep breath and, apparently deciding she had better be straight with him, said,
"It's your insecurity. You walk around with no self-belief at all. Even now, your shoulders are slumped. Those baggy clothes you wear. You speak so quickly and so quietly. And you seem to think that being with me is the end game. That's not how you get a girl, Ernest. You have to be the prospect then the girl will come to you!"
Ernest looked around the room as if for support, and then he dug deep for a retort or a denial. None came.
"Do you have anything planned for this evening?" Ruth asked, bidding to change the subject. Ernest shrugged.
The truth was he had planned to be spending the night in bed with her, caressing her breasts, planting sweet kisses on her soft white belly and making her scream with pleasure on his cock.
"Seeing Marco?" he asked, practically swallowing his words, so quietly did they emerge.
"Yes. That reminds me. I need to pick up some more condoms."
"Ruth, please don't rub it in. Can't you give me that?"
"The kindest thing for me to do is be honest with you, Ernest. I think this coffee date is over. I guess I'll see you in the lectures. Have a good weekend, ok?"
Ernest said nothing. He just nodded to acknowledge her as she left.
He walked around the city for hours that day, her words about him ringing in his ear. What she had said about his insecurities had, at least, pushed the image of her doing sexual gymnastics with another man out of his head.
Bad posture? Bad clothes? Bad voice? The others were maybe fair, but that was harsh. And then, he looked down at his clothes and, at last, saw himself as others saw him. His shoulders were hunched, his shirt hanging loose upon him. He was a pathetic specimen.
Ernest cried himself to sleep that night. Awakening deep into the night, he thought about what was going on at Marco's place. Was she on her back? Was she on her hands and knees, mounted like a horse and taking it from behind? Did Marco have a big dick? Or was it in her mouth? Or was she just lying naked in his arms, sharing the intimacy Ernest thought was his by right?
In some ways, that would hurt him the most of all.
Jesus, Ernesto, stop torturing yourself, man, he told himself. She told you what was wrong. To win her back, you are going to have to do something about it. Do something! That was it! Don't lie around crying like a child, be a man, get up and fix the problems! Yes! He had to change!
He almost capered around the room, like a sexual Scrooge who had resolved to reform his character. Perhaps she would come to him. Perhaps she wouldn't. But it would be an adventure to try.
The next day, he texted Ruth to thank her for her candour. And then, Ernest went shopping. He bought a new cologne. He refitted his wardrobe, making sure everything he bought was a tight fit. And he spent more than fifty Euros on self-help books for men. There were volumes on general confidence, but also books on seduction and lay guides from the pick-up-artist community. It was the first day of the rest of his life.
*
Stephanie was from France, on holiday with her family in Spain. Ernest had learned this from her brother, Jean-Paul, whom he had struck up a conversation with on the beach.
One of the first pieces of advice he'd attempted to take was, "Strike up conversations with ten strangers a day."
The two guys joked and joshed and played volleyball while Stephanie swam in the sea. Ernest wondered what Jean-Paul would think if he knew that Ernest was running game, and his target was Stephanie.
"Win over the men around her first before you make any attempt at seduction!" the pickup artist had advised,
"The men are potential obstacles to seduction even if they are not in a relationship!" Ernest had learned the term 'cockblocking' for the first time.
After a while, Stephanie emerged from the sea. Her brother only glanced in her direction, but Ernest was practically staring. He watched her wring her sopping wet, dirty blonde curly hair. Her bikini was tight and emerald blue and left little to the imagination. Sunlight glittered on the droplets of water on her skin. She smiled at the boys as she towelled herself nearby.
Let's see, what were the steps? One, focus on the men. When you have their trust, isolate the target. Escalate physical touch. Give her backhanded compliments...what was the word, negs? Then go for a kiss...
*
To his utter astonishment, it worked!
By seven that night, Ernest had spirited Stephanie away from under the nose of her family, and the click of the bedroom door as she locked it was surely the sweetest sound he ever heard. Desperately trying to play it cool, he took his shirt off as Stephanie removed hers.
Stephanie had a delightful figure. Her breasts were full and matronly, her tummy just five kilos less than plump. When she said, "Take off your clothes," it was in charmingly accented Spanish.
Well, here goes. Ernesto had never exposed his penis to a woman before. He wasn't sure what he expected but would settle for her not laughing. He liked to imagine her jaw dropping open at the sheer size of his monstrous cock, but he knew that was unrealistic.
Stephanie looked at it, then said nonchalantly, "It's, how you say, well endow?"
Ernesto blushed and thanked the stars.
Stephanie crawled onto the bed between his legs, and then she was on him.
Oh wow! That was...wet! And warm! But it felt fantastic. Until he'd seen it in the pornos, he had never entirely believed a woman would suck a penis, but he was in no doubt now. Oh, it was tingling deliciously around his exposed glans. Her head was bobbing up and down. Ernesto closed his eyes and tried pretending it was Ruth sucking him off.
Oh, she was letting it deeper and deeper into her mouth. That tugging sensation felt so fucking good. He'd earned this, he told himself. He'd done his time as a loser; it was his turn to...to...to win! Hot liquid shot out of his penis, and his cock gave a mighty shudder. Wet, in the throes of orgasm, it felt like a different organ from the flaccid thing he used for peeing.
"Yes! Yes!" He cried, staring at the ceiling.
"I asked you not to come in my mouth," said Stephanie irritably.
"I'm sorry. That was my first..." he was in danger of forgetting himself, "blowjob for quite a while.
"Sure. Ok," said Stephanie as she reached for her t-shirt and pulled it on.
"You're leaving?" Ernest protested,
"I thought we could, you know, do it properly."
Fifteen minutes later, Ernesto lost his virginity, but he did not last as long or have the same effect on Stephanie that Marco had on Ruth that night. There was no polite card under the door asking them to keep it down for Ernesto.
*
Ernesto decided not to date Stephanie long-term. Now he was getting better at talking to women; he wanted to sow his wild oats. He couldn't resist meeting Jean-Paul for a beer the next day, though. As they chatted about football, Ernesto couldn't help inwardly laughing about what this guy would think if he knew what his sister had done last night.