Wild Sex Tales(Erotica)

Gavin choked and his face turned the most adorable shade of pink. He glanced around the trolley car, but it was still early and so mostly empty. I doubted the elderly gentleman in the front of the car or the overdressed family in the back were paying any attention to us.

“Sex,” I said, “You and Kelly did it, right? What was it like?”

“I don’t know if I should be talking about this with you,” Gavin said. I couldn’t tell if he meant the sibling thing, or the chastity thing, or just the couples’ privacy thing. Probably all three.

“Lilah gave up her purity ring,” I said, “She met some guy at camp, and I guess they, I don’t know. It got me thinking, that’s all.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Gavin said, “Look, just because your friend broke her promise doesn’t mean yours is any less important. It’s something for yourself, you know? Not other people.”

“But you didn’t wait,” I said.

“No,” Gavin said, “I didn’t.”

“And you don’t regret it,” I said.

Gavin surprised me by letting out a long, drawn out sigh. “Maybe?” he said. I couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d admitted he was selling illegally acquired, endangered turtles out of our garage.

Like I said, Gavin and I confided in each other a lot. Especially when we were both living at home. He’d told me, straight out, when he and Kelly did it for the first time. The way he described it, as this beautiful thing that they’d shared, it totally changed my perspective on sex.

Gavin must have seen the look on my face because he immediately began to backpedal. “Look, Cass, I’m not saying that it was bad. Sex with Kelly was amazing. Truly. Looking back, though? I wish my first time had happened with someone else. Like, someone I could trust. Someone I loved and who loved me back. For real.”

“How do you know, though?” I asked, “You thought Kelly was your soulmate. I’m sure Lilah and her guy think they have something special.”

“I don’t think you ever really do,” Gavin said. He smiled in a way that looked more like a frown. “You just have to do your best and know that you’ll probably screw it up.”

“Literally in this case,” I said. We both laughed.

We changed trains and took the subway into downtown. Growing up, Philly had been the scary bad place with all the crime that my parents forbade me to go to without them, a full security escort, a bulletproof body suit, and support from the 101st Airborne. But my brother had been going to Temple for two years now without suffering so much as a splinter, so I assumed I was in good hands.

We got off the train and took the escalator up to street level. My stomach grumbled embarrassingly loudly.

“Almost there,” Gavin said.

The city was surprisingly quiet. Almost sleepy. There were enough people walking around so that it didn’t feel creepy, but it added to the otherworldly feel of the day. We walked down a few blocks, then Gavin pushed open what seemed like a random glass door and brought me inside.

I recognized the place immediately. We were at Reading Terminal Market. My parents had taken us there as kids, but all I remembered of it was the endless bustle and shoving of an overcrowded, aggressive place where everything was too large for a little girl.

Now, though, as an adult, I saw that my brother had brought me to an almost infinite wonderland of deliciousness. We walked up and down the alleys of the market; each stall more tantalizing than the last. This was like a mall food court it had been built in heaven. It was a fantasy world of every cuisine I’d ever heard of. And everything looked and smelled amazing.

“What do you want?” Gavin asked. He could have asked me to explain advanced calculus in French and it would have been easier for me. Everything looked so good.

Eventually, I ‘settled’ on a roast pork sandwich with provolone and broccoli rabe from DiNic’s. My brother surprised me by getting a simple turkey sandwich from a few stalls down. As soon as we found a table though, and Gavin let me have a bite, I realized why he’d done it. The sandwich was so beyond what I thought a turkey sandwich could be. One little taste of this and I was ruined for deli meat forever.

Gavin beamed, knowing that he’d done this to me, then took back his lunch. Not that what I had was anything to complain about. My own sandwich was salty, tangy and good. Just not that.

We sat in uncomfortable seats at long, plastic tables, as the rapidly-filling market bumped against our backs. We felt like the kings of the world. There was only one thing that I needed for this to be perfect.

“Gavin?” I asked, sweet as pie, “I kind of want your sandwich?”

“You what?” Gavin asked.

“I want it,” I said, “It was really good.”

“But you have your own,” Gavin said.

“I know, but yours is better,” I said.

“So you want to take mine,” he said.

“Switch,” I said.

“Share,” Gavin said.

“Yes.”

“Halfsies?” Gavin said.

I sighed, as if he’d made a horribly impertinent request. “Fine,” I said.

We passed each other our meals. That first bite, I knew I’d made the right choice.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

“Worth the journey?” Gavin asked, a knowing smile on his face. All I could do was nod.

As we ate together, grinning stupidly at each other across our table, I realized that we were on a date. Not an actual date, of course, but something that was essentially date-like in all the ways that defined one.

My brother paid for my meal and pulled out my chair. He pointed things out and we had pleasant conversation. This was nice. Really nice. And once again, I wondered to myself what the hell Kelly was looking for if it wasn’t my funny, handsome, charming brother?

After lunch, Gavin lead me through Philadelphia like he was giving me a tour of his home. Which, since he went to school there, he kind of was. He showed me where Thomas Jefferson had written the Declaration of Independence and where Ben Franklin’s mistress had lived. Then we went over to Franklin Fountain and shared a massive hot fudge sundae.