Trailer Trash

  Maybe it was too clean. Maybe the women were just too polished, or too refined. Maybe if he had one of those other magazines—the ones his friend Mike had told him about during a sleepover, his voice a hushed whisper as he described how those women looked between their legs—maybe then Nate would find them more exciting. He’d never seen that part of a girl before, not counting the cartoonish black-and-white drawing in his health textbook back in ninth grade. The most he’d seen was the triangle of hair up front. Maybe if he could see those secret folds of flesh, he’d react the way he was supposed to. Maybe seeing those ladies with their legs spread would make him as anxious and aroused as his friends.

  He had to find out. He had to find a way to get one of those magazines. Or . . .

  There was another possibility. One he was almost afraid to think about, but which couldn’t be denied.

  Maybe he needed to see the real thing. He was almost eighteen now, after all. At least half of his friends back home had lost their virginity already, and he was pretty sure everybody from the Grove was more experienced than him. Losing his virginity here in Wyoming seemed a lot easier than it had in Texas.

  He tried to picture it. Maybe in the backseat of his Mustang with Jennifer Parker or Christine Lucero. He tried to imagine kissing one of them, unbuttoning her jeans, sliding his hand inside to explore that warm place between her thighs. It was an exciting thought. He was relieved at the gentle twinge in his groin. See? he told himself triumphantly. Women turn me on too!

  He wondered how it would feel to spread their legs, to put the tip of his erection in that place—would he even know where to put it? Well, it couldn’t be too difficult to find the right spot, could it?—and push slowly inside.

  It had to be wonderful. It had to be life-changing, given the way the boys in both Texas and Wyoming talked. It had to be far better than his hand, of that much he was sure. After all, that spot—that place, that secret little opening he’d never seen and could barely even imagine—had been designed, either by God or by biology or both, to wrap around a man’s penis. It had been created to give pleasure, and then to give life.

  And Cody? Well, Cody didn’t have any of that, did he? Cody would look—

  Nate stopped himself there. Cody was male, and that was all there was to it. Nate wouldn’t think about whether or not Cody’s penis looked any different than his own. After all, it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t think about if Cody’s might be bigger or smaller or somehow shaped different. He wouldn’t think about how it might feel to wrap his fingers around it—

  Nope. Not thinking about that at all.

  It was better to think about girls. Better to contemplate his chances of finally losing his virginity.

  Luck seemed to be with him, because the following Monday, a week after the embarrassing encounter with Cody in Jim’s cow pasture, Christine found him. They were between third and fourth period, and Nate was pulling his English book from his locker when she suddenly appeared next to him.

  “Are you busy Friday night? My mom will be in Cheyenne for the weekend, so Larry and I are having some friends over. You wanna stop by?”

  Did he? Not really. He and Larry Lucero hadn’t ever been friends, and things certainly hadn’t improved after Nate’s one trip to the bowling alley, but Christine’s invitation seemed like a sign.

  This was exactly the kind of opportunity he’d been hoping for.

  “I’d love to.”

  She seemed to smile the rest of the week. She waved at him and giggled with her friends every time they passed in the halls, and Nate tried to convince himself he’d done the right thing. Christine was nice. She was friendly. She was pretty, he supposed, even if she wore a bit too much makeup and her teeth weren’t quite straight. She also wasn’t from Orange Grove, and that seemed important for no reason he could put into words.

  And everybody knew she was easy.

  This last thought gave him pause each time. He wanted to lose his virginity, yes, but he couldn’t stop hearing Cody’s words in his head. “Show me a girl who can’t say no, I’ll show you a girl who’s spent too many birthdays staring out the window, waiting for her daddy to show.”

  It wasn’t as if Nate intended to force himself on her. On the contrary, he was desperately hoping she’d be the one to make the first move, because he wasn’t sure he could. But even assuming she was willing, Nate worried he’d be taking advantage of her.

  Maybe it was wrong. Maybe his plan was stupid. Maybe going to her house in hopes of having sex with her was the worst thing he’d ever done. It certainly gave him a dark, sinking feeling, like he was letting somebody down. It made him feel dirty in a way that was new. Masturbation, pornography, his secret thoughts about both women and Cody—none of those things made him feel as icky as the thought of trying to seduce Christine.

  Well, sex or not, he’d already told her he’d be there. He wouldn’t back out of it now. And besides, maybe it would be fun. It’d be one Friday night he didn’t have to spend avoiding the Grove clique, or going along with them only to wish he hadn’t, or wishing he could spend it with Cody.

  No. He wasn’t thinking about Cody.

  That’s what he told himself all week, at any rate. But no matter how hard he tried not to think about Cody, he failed. Night after night as he lay in bed, he found his mind straying to that forbidden, shameful possibility. He was obsessed with the idea of kissing Cody again. Of touching him and being touched by him. Of seeing him come. On Friday morning, Nate gave in as he masturbated under the hot spray of his morning shower and let himself imagine Cody. He imagined it was Cody’s hand stroking him. He imagined Cody there, in the shower with him, and the result was undeniable. He was glad his dad had already left for work, because he was sure he’d cried out at the end. His knees feeling like rubber, his body shuddering over and over, his loins still aching.

  Jesus, there something wrong with him.

  He wondered who he could talk to. His family didn’t go to church, so there was no youth pastor or confession booth. There was no counselor at school he trusted. He sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up with his father.

  His mother?

  Maybe. He kept that possibility tucked away in the back of his mind. He only talked to his mother once a week—always on Wednesday evenings, always for exactly twenty minutes. His dad was usually on the other side of the room, trying his best to look like he wasn’t listening. But maybe Nate could ask his dad to leave the room. Maybe he could tell him how he needed to talk to his mom in private.

  He hated the idea, but as lame as it was, it was still the best one he had.

  Nate spent the rest of Friday morning contemplating lies he could tell Christine to get out of going to her house. I’m sick. I’m grounded. I have too much homework.

  But at the end of the day, when Christine stopped by his locker and said, “See you tonight?” Nate choked on the words, his heart pounding. His need to know if Christine could turn him on as much as Cody was suddenly stronger than his conscience.

  “Yeah,” he said. “See you tonight.”

  Christine lived near Cody, in the trailer park, but in the more respectable portion where tenants had actual lawns with grass, and wind chimes hanging on their front porches. By the time Nate arrived a little after eight, the party was already in full swing. Van Halen blasted from the stereo while at least a dozen teenagers milled about inside the cramped trailer.

  Larry Lucero scowled at Nate, but Christine hugged him, and Jimmy handed him a red Solo cup full of beer. Nate drank it gratefully and let Christine take his hand and begin leading him through the party.

  His heart pounded as she introduced him to people and told him jokes. Nate did his best to laugh at the right times, but his mind was racing the entire time. She smiled at him, moving closer, an obvious invitation in her eyes, and Nate had to fight the urge to run.

  I don’t want this. I don’t want her!

  But that was wrong. He was supposed to want girls. He probably did want
girls. He just hadn’t been able to prove it yet.

  Once I’m alone with her, everything will be fine.

  He drank another cup of beer, then remembered he’d have to drive and found a can of soda instead. Christine hadn’t let go of his hand since he’d come in, and he studied her in a way he never had before. She was wearing tight jeans and a low-cut sweater. She kept pressing her breasts against him as she talked. It was distracting. Almost arousing. And when she finally stood on her toes and kissed him, he sighed with relief.

  Yes, this was why he’d come here tonight. He needed to know.

  Somebody catcalled, and Christine laughed against his lips and pulled away to smile up at him. “You want to go to my room?”

  He couldn’t quite speak, torn between curiosity and arousal and gut-wrenching fear. He nodded, and she took his hand again and led him down the hall.

  Her bedroom was done all in pink, with stuffed animals on the bed and a collection of porcelain dolls on the shelf, but the walls were covered with Van Halen and Ratt and Mötley Crüe. Christine casually closed the door, stepped close, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him again.

  Her lips were warm, and Nate moaned, falling into it, wanting desperately to feel something. He pulled her close and concentrated hard on kissing her, and feeling the way she fit into his arms. The way her lips felt under his tongue, and her breasts pressed against his chest. His heart was pounding, but that was probably normal. It was normal to be nervous, right? Normal to be so afraid of whatever came next that it was easier to simply wait and let her lead the way.

  It’s okay, he told himself. This is good. This is what you need. Now you’ll find out you like girls just fine.

  She pushed him backward until the backs of his knees came up against her bed, and he sat down. She straddled his lap, still kissing him. She was breathing hard, and there was a bit too much saliva, but Nate embraced it, trying to let himself become aroused as they kissed and her soft little moans filled his ears. It was awkward, like every other kiss he’d ever shared with a girl, but he figured he’d get the hang of it eventually.

  He sensed she was impatient—that he was doing something wrong—and he realized that although he was kissing her, he wasn’t doing anything else. His hands were near her waist, not moving, just sitting like fat lumps on her hips.

  He slid one up to cup her breast. She let him, sighing against his lips, leaning closer, and he grew bolder. He slid his hand inside her sweater to caress her, feeling the hard bud of her nipple through her bra.

  Nothing about it felt right, and when she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, he balked, wanting nothing more than to pull away and put a stop to it.

  No! You want this! You’re supposed to want this!

  He let his hand slip under the loose bit of elastic, cupping her bare breast in his hand. It made his heart pound, but not in the way he’d hoped.

  She took his other hand and guided it to her thigh, grinding against him a bit as they kissed, and Nate tried to ride the thrill to its obvious conclusion. He tried to tell himself this was good and right and wonderful, even though his stomach was in knots and his penis definitely wasn’t doing what he knew she’d expect it to do.

  Christine moved off him quickly, and he felt an instant of relief, thinking maybe he’d screwed up enough that she’d given up, but no such luck. She pulled off her sweater and let her bra drop to the floor, leaving her naked from the waist up. Her breasts were smaller than he imagined, her pink nipples hard and pointing his way. She undid her jeans and peeled them off before kicking them away. She was wearing only a lacy pair of black panties.

  She put her hands on her waist, throwing one hip out, striking a pose, giving him a teasing pout. “Is that all the reaction I get?”

  He cleared his throat, trying to think of what to say. Seeing her almost naked was exciting, in its own way. He’d never seen naked breasts outside of magazines or movies. But he was still pretty sure he wasn’t reacting the way he should. His stomach felt like it was full of lead. His palms were beginning to sweat.

  “You’re beautiful,” he told her. It was true, even if he wasn’t able to put as much desire behind it as he would have liked.

  She smiled and moved back onto his lap, kissing him again.

  Touching her breasts felt awkward, so he put his hands on her thighs. Her skin there was warm and silky smooth. He wasn’t sure he wanted things to go any further, but he had to know. He had to find out if he could make himself enjoy this as much as other boys seemed to.

  He slid one hand upward until he found the place between her legs. She gasped, rising a bit to give him room, and he wiggled his fingers under the elastic, exploring more than stroking, although she didn’t seem to mind. He found hair, and hot flesh, and there, in the center, a slippery entrance. He tested it, circling, pushing just a bit, surprised at how wet it was, and how warm, but he felt nothing beyond a bit of curiosity. He wasn’t even remotely aroused. It was nothing like when Cody had touched him.

  Jesus, maybe he really was gay.

  And Christine had spent too many birthdays watching out the window for her father.

  And none of this should be happening.

  “Stop,” he said, pulling his hand from under her. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “It’s okay. My mom won’t be home until tomorrow, and my brother doesn’t care.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  She leaned back a bit to look at his face. “Really?”

  He remembered again Cody’s comment about girls who couldn’t say no. He hated what he’d let himself do. A moment ago, he’d been curious, but now, he felt nothing but shame. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let things go this far—”

  “What are you talking about? I wanted you to.” She smiled flirtatiously and slid her hand down his chest toward his groin. “We could do more, if you want.” She unzipped his pants, and Nate jumped in alarm.

  “No!” He stopped her hands, hoping she didn’t hear how close he was to panic.

  Or to tears.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, feeling like an idiot for repeating himself over and over, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. “I’m so, so sorry. I just . . .” He sighed in frustration, putting his face in his hands. Unfortunately, one of them now smelled wrong, and he jerked it away, his stomach turning. He wished he’d never come to Christine’s stupid party.

  “Is this a religious thing?” she asked. “Are you freaking out because it’s a sin?”

  “Yes!” It was a lie, but he grasped at it readily enough. “I’m still a virgin.” And maybe he should have been embarrassed saying it, but he wasn’t. He moved her carefully off his lap and stood, zipping his pants as he did. He picked her sweater up off the floor and handed it to her, trying not to see her naked breasts as he did, just wanting her to cover herself so he’d be able to look at her again. “I’m sorry. I know it was terrible of me to take advantage of you like that. I know I shouldn’t have. I know it was wrong. I just got carried away, and—”

  “Stop!” she said, smacking his shoulder playfully. To his surprise, she was laughing. Her breasts swung as she leaned over to pick up her bra. “You didn’t take advantage of me, you big prude. I’m the one who dragged you into my bedroom. I’m pretty sure I jumped you, not the other way around.”

  “I . . . uh . . .” His heart was still pounding, his hands shaking, his stomach twisted with shame. He just wanted to get out of her bedroom and out of her trailer and away from Warren, Wyoming. “So, you’re not mad?”

  “Why would I be? Because you’re not falling all over yourself trying to get in my pants?”

  “Yes. I mean, no. Because I did get in your pants, but I didn’t want to. I mean, I didn’t mean to. I just—”

  She pulled her shirt on and bent to pick up her jeans. “You’re forgiven.”

  He blinked at her, stunned. “Just like that?”

  She grinned at him as she wiggle
d into her tight jeans and buttoned them. “You’re not the only fish in the sea, Nate. I mean, you’re cute and all, but it ain’t like I can’t find another guy.”

  “Right. Of course.” And probably any other guy at the party would be happy to be pulled into her bedroom. They wouldn’t be afraid and embarrassed about touching her breasts or that warm place between her legs. They wouldn’t have a hard time getting critical parts of their anatomy to cooperate.

  What was wrong with him?

  “No hard feelings, right?” she asked.

  It seemed like he should be the one saying that to her. “Of course not.”

  “Cool.”

  She opened her bedroom door and went back to the party, leaving Nate standing like an idiot in the middle of her room.

  He’d had his chance, and he’d felt nothing. He was pretty sure his erection had never made it past half-mast, at best. He was glad she hadn’t tried to touch him there. He would have been beyond embarrassed to have her discover his lack of arousal.

  And what about that? What exactly did that mean?

  Maybe if you’d let her touch it, you’d have gotten hard.

  Maybe. But shouldn’t just the thought of her touching him have been enough? His mind drifted back to that one amazing day at the wagon, when Cody had unzipped Nate’s pants and slipped his hand inside. His penis stirred at the memory, far more than it had at the actual possibility of being touched by Christine.

  He’d had his chance, and all he’d proven was that he was a coward at best.

  A fag, at worst.

  Nate fought back the lump threatening to fill his throat. He made it to his car and halfway home before he started to cry. It wasn’t sobbing or wrenching or painful. Just hot tears running down his cheeks, and he had no way to stop them.

  He’d never been so confused.

  The difference between his experience with Christine and the one with Cody baffled him. Touching Christine had been uncomfortable and awkward. But Cody . . .