Shame

One of the last times I had sex with Simon was in the basement of his ex-girlfriends house. We were all going to some event the following day together, and her family put us together in their very livable basement.

This was during a time when I didn't want to see my body, I was ashamed of it; detested it. I've told this story before; I showered in the dark, wore conservative clothing, and avoided letting people see me naked or partially clothed. By this point I had stopped masturbating, I had gotten some kind of block that stopped me from having orgasms, and whenever I tried I ended up crying in frustration at my bodies refusal to do what it had once done so well and so easily.

I had gone behind a partition that they had to put on my pajamas when Simon came around the corner, he came over and put his hands on my hips, and said something to me, running his hands up under my belly, I pulled away before his fingertips touched my breasts, and he turned away. Muttering about how he didn't need this. I pulled my shirt on over my head, breathing deeply, I tried to pull myself together.

I walked around the partition into the main area where the sofa bed was set up for us. I settled onto the far corner, trying to take up as little room as possible. Desperately trying to avoid contact with him.

"Come here," Simon said, his voice sounded dead. I got up and shyly approached him, I felt skittish on my feet. I knelt on the carpeted floor outside of arms length in front of him. "What are you doing?" He asked. "This isn't like you Eden, I've never met anyone before who was so strong, so liberated in everything like you are. You used to laugh so easily, get excited by all the little things that made you so happy. But I don't see any of that anymore, all I see is someone timid and afraid."

While he spoke, all I could do was think about the day that this had all started, about how desperately I wished I could have gone back and relived that day.

My breath was frozen in my chest, and my hands were clenched tight into the fabric of my pajama bottoms. "Maybe I'm just afraid, can't I be afraid?" I had asked, my voice small and tight. In that moment I wished I had wings, that they would just break out of my back and allow me to fly away into the night.

"I don't know who did this to you, but whoever it was, they don't know you. Don't let some stranger damage your ability to let your light shine," he said. He sank to his knees in front of me and slowly drew my shirt off over my head. My face was turned to the side, with my chin resting against my shoulder. He ran his fingertips up my bare arm and across my shoulder. His hand traced my clavicle and let it run down to my breasts, pressing my nipple together between his thumb and forefinger, it turned me on and made me feel ashamed at the same time. He kissed me gently and tugged me towards the bed, I climbed under the blankets, putting my shirt on the arm of the couch next to me.

He turned off the lights and put on a movie. He climbed into the bed next to me, and I mentally pulled away, desperately trying to protect myself. I remember thinking that that would have been the perfect time to become a nun. Just to pack up my bags and ship on out to Tibet, devote my life to Buddha. He slipped his hand down past the waistband of my pants, his fingertips reaching for my clit. I gasped as he found it, and then I bit my lip; a ball of dread had settled into my stomach. I tried to find my happy place as Simon rolled the condom on and laid on top of me. I was keenly aware of his chest against my breasts, his penis against my labia as he pressed down inside of me.

I don't know why I let him do it, by that time it had been weeks since I had come, perhaps part of me wanted to know if I could even have sex at this point. I could feel my foot hurting, from far away, I had injured my foot a week earlier badly enough to need a cane to get around, and I was still healing. I could make small distances on my own, but anything farther and I needed help.

When Simon finished, I got up and took my cane. I leaned heavily on it as I walked to the bathroom. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and was reminded of the faery tale idea of the maiden, the mother, and the crone. I felt more like the crone than the maiden in that moment.

I started to cry, feeling like a lost little child. I cried as I sat down on the toilet to pee, I cleaned myself off and then dried my eyes and blew my nose and went back out into the main room. I pulled on my shirt in the dark, and got into bed. I laid there on the edge of the bed for a long time, staring into nothing until I finally fell asleep.

It would be a few more weeks before I began to have orgasms again, but they never came with the ease that they once did. Each one I had to work for, and in the beginning, I was reliant on other people, because I couldn't manage it on my own. It would be another three and a half months before I could do it on my own, and when I finally managed it, I wept.