Dating & Sex
"Get off!" I push at him hard, with both hands. The next thing I know, he's pinned my hands over my head. I'm stunned how fast this guy can move. "It seems that we've fallen," he says, like he's talking about the color of his necktie.
"Anyway, why does that part of your body have to be treated like a wild animal that should be caged and controlled? Why can't it be about decency and honor, and what's true and good? And wise," I added defiantly, crossing my arms over my chest.
Sitting at my desk is torture. I wonder what circle of hell this is and what I did to deserve it. Mr. Lawson drones on and on. I have restless legs. My knee bounces up and down like crazy, like there's too much energy inside me and stray sparks are shooting off everywhere, twitching my muscles. I feel bored and restless and impatient. I want something to happen.
I hit something.
I have no idea what it is. All I know is that my bike slams to such a sudden stop that my butt comes off the seat and my feet leave the pedals. But I continue to grip the handlebars because I have the crazy idea that if I just hang on, everything will be okay.
