Lucy’s Lotus

Lucy wanted a couple of things from Scott: love, adoration, companionship, and sex. Unfortunately for her, Scott was maybe willing to give her one of those. He was pulled towards her by the idea of sex. Just, sex though; pure biological desire; desire for the release. He imagined that small brown body of hers being awfully cozy around his. He also imagined that her noises would drive him crazy.

But he kept her at arm’s length and even resented her for liking him. If he went for it, things would get ugly once it became clear he didn’t want romance.  Lucy was like the attractive little sister of a good friend.

She was clearly inexperienced, at least when compared to Scott’s lascivious past. If he didn’t keep his guard up, he might find himself lured into her embrace on a night of too much wine after a holiday party with the chess club. That’s how they knew one another. Lucy played chess because she wanted to feel some sense of community after college. Scott did it because he wanted to feel intelligent and wholesome when most of his hobbies involved cocaine and alcohol. He saw himself as Mr. Hyde to Lucy’s Dr. Jekyll. That might have been why she liked him.

Lucy was embarrassed for being a virgin and she kept that information mostly to herself. She didn’t want to be one, but if she was going to lose it, Scott would have to be the one to take it. Tall, handsome, funny Scott.

The chess club was of all ages, colors, and creeds. Lucy liked being a member of such a supportive and sophisticated group. Scott loved it. One night towards the end of quarantine, Scott held a shindig for the younger members who couldn’t be bothered to social distance. Lucy outed herself to Scott while he was ten drinks deep, and the others were all gone having a cigarette.

“Who here do you want to kiss?” she asked.

“No one,” he replied, looking her dead in the eye, trying to drive the point home with calm indifference.

But she was relentless, trying to drive another point in herself. “Oh, come on! You like me. You’re at least attracted to me. I heard you tell the others that you like brown girls. Does that not include Indian girls?” She pointed at herself.

Scott hesitated between glaring and glowering at her. The interrogation reminded him of a time he caved to the advances of the daughter of a disgraced Pakistani diplomat. He had had a girlfriend at the time, and the idea of indulging this young woman filled him with so much dark, scandalous desire that not only was the main event raw, juicy, and utterly satisfying, but it was one of the most memorable sexual experiences of his life.

“Scott!”

He came to.

“What?!”

Lucy could see that she got to him, and he could see that the look in his eyes betrayed him. He tried to blast her back.

“Look! Whatever you’re thinking, it’s a bad idea. Even if I did like you, I’d make a mess of you, and then you’d hate me, and shit would be super awkward with the rest of the club from now on, and I don’t want to do anything that would make either of us need to leave the group!”

Hard stop. Scott noticed that he raised his voice considerably. Lucy noticed that Scott had to slurp some saliva because he had started drooling.

“You have to go. I need to go to sleep,” said Scott, earnestly trying to contain his recent hormonal spike from Lucy’s seriously prying eyes. They were big eyes, too. That attribute alone made it hard to regard her through his peripheral vision without her noticing.

“Fine. But this is not over,” replied Lucy pointing a finger at Scott’s chest as he held the ‘get out’ open.

Everyone left without a fuss except for Scott’s equally lascivious and fiendish friend, Frank. Scott politely declined Frank’s offer of a cocaine bump. They sat on the couch drinking past midnight, making oblivion of the next day.

“I don’t understand why you don’t just give her what she wants,” said Frank.

“Because she’d be a stage-five clinger and probably murder me violently when she realized that I don’t want to be her boyfriend.”

“You’ll never know unless you do it.”

“Well, yea…you’re not wrong. But there’s something off about her. She’s a bit infatuated with me, but she doesn’t seem like she’d be any good in bed. She seems innocent.”

“Funny you should say that,” said Frank. “Her roommate told me something interesting….”

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Lucy’s "WHAT?" broke the silence of the dark streets.

“You told Frank I’m a virgin? How could you do that?”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know it was such a closely guarded secret!”

“You’re a fucking bitch. I don’t believe for a second that you just casually let that slip. Don’t talk to me.”

Lucy stormed ahead. She shut herself in her room, turned on Spotify, which had Oops by Tweet and Missy Elliot queued up. She laid on her bed, and slid her left hand in her panties where she felt some unkempt scruff. Frustrated, she hit her pillow and let go of herself trying to forget Scott, her virginity, and all the touches she was missing.

The following day, she woke up early and rushed out the door before an awkward kitchen conversation could commence with her new enemy, Sasha.

When Lucy returned half an hour later, Sasha was feeding their cat.

“I’m so sorry for being such an asshole to you last night,” said Lucy as she presented Sasha with waffles and coffee from her favorite brunch spot.

“Do you want to play chess and talk about it?” asked Sasha.

All was forgiven. It wasn’t Sasha’s fault that Lucy never had sex. “I just never met the right guy in college, I suppose,” Lucy reasoned. “And I guess I still haven’t met the right guy in the three years since then, either.”

Two wins and two losses later, Lucy was unsure how improving her chess strategy would get her closer to bagging Scott; she just knew she had to match his appetite.

 --

Similarly, after whooping Frank’s ass three games in a row, Scott wasn’t any clearer on how to rid himself of Lucy’s lust.

“Yo, fuck this shit!” said Frank. “Why do I have to play this boring-ass game with you to help you feel better about not dicking where dicking is due? You’re a stingy bastard, Scott.”

“Are you done?” said Scott, both anxious with espresso and because the entire café they were sitting at was now watching them. Frank starred back, rejecting their judgment and deflecting the discomfort with wide, crazy eyes.

“I just wish someone else would pop her cherry first.”

“She’s not going to go for that. Not while you’re in the picture, unless you block her phone number and stop going to chess gatherings. This situation is like the reverse of Pepe Le Pew, where instead the innocent cat is the relentless poon-hound, and the slutty skunk is trying to run and hide.”

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Scott took his good friend’s bad advice one drunken night when the pair of them found themselves hanging out with Lucy and Sasha after a party. Scott leaned into Lucy, and she received his mouth with expected enthusiasm.

Frank and Sasha subtly left the room mid-conversation, their voices falling the way a wave does when it crashes on the beach and then regresses.

Eventually, Scott realized they were alone. He had only been so eager because Frank kept goading him to drink more tequila. For fuck’s sake, he thought, embarrassed at how obvious his erection was. Lucy was a bit shy, too. “Can we go to your place?” she asked. “I really don’t feel like seeing their smiles when they get back from the store or wherever.”

“Yea, let’s do it,” said Scott thinking, yes, this is happening. Let’s worry about consequences and judgment when it hits like a ton of bricks tomorrow with the hangover.

They walked the seven blocks back to Scott’s flat with haste, maintaining an ignoble silence.

Scott was disappointed with Lucy’s tuft of pubic hair, and Lucy was slightly terrified with how alive his dick was. So, she coated it with saliva. It wasn’t enough to stop the pain and barely enough to let his head inside to take a look around.

“Scott, I have to tell you something,” she said with her palms on his upper thighs holding back any further thrusting.

“What’s that?” he asked, hoping the virgin thing was bullshit.

“I’ve never been fully penetrated.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, slightly panicked.

“I mean I’m a virgin. I’ve tried it once before, but it just hurt too much.”

“I see,” he said with hopes dashed, but still softly pushing and pretending his body didn’t hear her.

“Ouch!” she cried.

It was over. Scott was neither drunk nor sensitive enough to walk her through it.

The next morning Scott wished he hadn’t brought Lucy home because, on her way out, she asked, “when can we do this again?”

“I don’t know. Maybe this week,”

“Ok. See you soon?”

“Mhm,” he replied dutifully but untruthfully.

They kissed, and she was off.

When Scott closed the door, he no longer felt safe. Not from his friends and not from himself. When he relayed the tale to Frank, it just got worse.

“Damn, that’s hot. So, you couldn’t even stick it inside? She was too tight, or you’re just too big? Nice!”

“Would you please shut the hell up?”

“I’m just saying that’s a super-hot story,” Frank shrugged.

“Ok, I get it. But now, how do I go about never seeing or hearing from her ever again?”

“What are you talking about? You need to get back in there!” said Frank, now apparently Rocky Balboa’s trainer.

“No, I really don’t. I don’t need to be deflowering anyone at age thirty.”

“Interesting. All in all, I’d say that’s a pretty good problem to have,” said Frank with a grin that agreed with and took pleasure in Scott’s conundrum.

“I guess you could quit playing chess.”

“Fuck you!”

Frank was the little devil on Scott’s shoulder. Unfortunately, there was no angel on the other.

Scott already feared his own inner darkness. Frank could be counted on to enable it. They passed a spliff back and forth.

Meanwhile, Lucy was being advised –to her benefit or her detriment—by no one except that voice that told her she wanted romance, she wanted Scott, and she didn’t want to be a virgin. And I like playing chess.

That’s when Lucy got the text ‘opt-out’ from Scott saying:

Hey, I really enjoyed our brief romantic interlude, but I’d really like to keep it brief and continue being friends. 

Scott had deleted the former ending, which read: Do you think we can do that?

Because fuck leaving it open and fuck asking for permission.

It was hard to figure out what to write when she replied: Are you fucking kidding me?

So, he didn’t write anything.

Lucy flung her phone across the room, which somehow opened to her digital chessboard. That’s when she wondered if she could play Scott for his affection. If I beat him at chess then he’ll stop looking at me like a little girl and…who knows what could happen?. 

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Months went by without an answer to that thought…

Frank was gone in New York for two weeks, and Scott used the opportunity to get sober and figure out why his sex life was dead.

Lucy reached out: Hey, I know it’s been a while since we talked. But do you want to come over and play a game of chess and catch up?

Scott relented against his better instincts.

Sasha was at her boyfriend’s house, and the game was almost over because Lucy had cornered Scott’s king. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to him because his mind was racing: If she weren’t a virgin…and if we could be casual, I probably would have had sex with her a hundred times by now!

“Checkmate,” said Lucy, then extended her hand. Scott shook it then got up to leave.

Scott’s romantic life consisted of the occasional one-night stand or the occasional first date followed by the occasional first date’s one-night stand. Satisfying? Sometimes! Utterly meaningless? Definitely! Scott’s God-given privilege to a penis was wasted on self-flagellation and the destruction of romantic opportunity. The least he could do was unburden the poor girl of her condition, her enfeebling flower. But hers wasn’t some dandelion, a useless weed. Hers was a luscious lotus—the flower that blooms and yields a thousand seeds at once. It’s the realm of adventure. Scott need only play his part and let it open for him, for Lucy, for the world, for infinity. 

He would use that to justify what happened next…

Lucy stepped between Scott and the door, and this time he didn’t object to the silence. 

He fell into Lucy, and she caught him by the neck with her teeth. He put her on the table next to the chessboard while he pulled off her sweatpants.

When he entered her this time, the region was only slightly more hospitable. He wanted to avoid hearing her pain, so he shoved his mouth into hers. But Lucy was more prepared. She didn’t try to stop it or hold him back. She moaned in pain but eventually, the friction harmonized with the sound of the table knocking against the wall.

…and it was so good Scott couldn’t take it.

So delicious was the in and out that Scott almost wished he didn’t have to conduct the necessary outward motion needed to push himself back in.

And then it was over with a lot of towels and silence. Scott wasn’t sure if he should tell Lucy that sex with a condom is a lot cleaner…if not a bit smellier.

They laid together a while, and Scott held a piece of ice between Lucy’s legs for her. That she would still be in pain all after the deed was done didn’t occur to him. He felt the sense of remorse men often get after spilling their seed. Only in this instance, it was magnified. Days later, when Lucy texted Scott asking if they could do it again, he didn’t respond. He was still under the impression that he held, and would have to break, Lucy’s heart. 

Scott felt like he sinned against a lighter being. Thinking back on that night, Scott imagined a horned lizard eating a gentle dragonfly. He saw a demon defiling an angel, a sorcerer ravaging a princess.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want more…

He just didn’t want the package. He wanted more lotus, not more Lucy.

Lucy, on the other hand, wasn’t waiting anxiously for Scott to claim her. She was reborn. She wanted to thank him. Lucy was no victim. She didn’t feel exploited. She felt liberated. Unbeknownst to self-absorbed Scott, for her, it was hallelujah. 

Lucy had emerged with a new bounce in her step. Her girlfriends saw it. “You seem so much more confident. I love it!” one said. She noticed how immaculate her hair was when she zhuzhed it up in the mirror one night. She smiled at herself in the devious fashion of a sexual being. She sat on her bones more comfortably, feeling her own strength and feeling like life was working in her favor.

Lucy left Scott a voice note ten days after their chess match.

“I just wanted to say thank you for the other night. Thank you for breaking me of that, no pun intended,” she chuckled. “Now I can get on with my life.” 

Scott was confounded by the message.

He messaged her:  Lucy, I just want to say I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you. I’m sorry if this wasn’t the experience you wanted to have or if you thought we were going to ride into the sunset together. 

Lucy responded by calling him. This time he picked up.

“Hey Lucy, how are you?”

“I’m good. I just wanted to check in and make sure you’re alright, and…that’s all!”

“Oh. Oh! Yea, I’m good.”

“Ok, great. I’ll see you around, then.”

“Ok, Lucy. Take care.”

“Thanks. You, too. There’s just one more thing….”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, you idiot! You’re not that special.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“NO! Ugh. Goodbye, dude.”

Scott now realized he was more burdened with his self-importance than he had ever been with Lucy’s emotions. Pity he hadn’t troubled to ask her. 

“Holy shit!” Scott thought aloud. “This was all in my head, and it was all a bunch of bullshit. Life goes on! She’s not going to wait for me to come around! Damn!... I probably could have screwed her again, and we’d be in the same situation.”

Scott made a phone call thinking I can’t believe I’m about to say this. “Hey, Frank! You were right, man!... Yes. Yes, precisely. I had sex with Lucy, and no, she did not murder me after I bailed on her,” he said, cheerfully experiencing some form of ego death. 

“Ok, Frank. Fuck you too. I’ll see you when you get back.”

Scott laid back against his pillow feeling much more empowered and deserving of the things he wanted. He wondered if he should send Lucy a thank you note or an Edible Arrangement. 

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Lucy laid on her couch with a can of Whiteclaw and opened her phone. She had matched with Raymond, Clark, Steve, and Andrew on Bumble. She smiled and bit her finger, surveying her options. Her new status didn’t mean she was going to fuck one of these guys the first time she met him…but when she did, it would be a lot more enjoyable than that one bloody night with Scott. What a prick! She thought. I hope he’s doing ok.