Ah Ma’s not at home,” Ying Yue said over the phone.
She had called — not texted, not messaged. And those were the first words out of her mouth. She knew I would know what she meant.
My heart picked up its pace, and there was a tingle of arousal in my body. What she meant was her grandmother wouldn’t be home for at least the next few hours. Ah Ma would be at their store in the nearby shopping centre until just before dinnertime, as was her routine. Or she would be at their other store in Chinatown.
What she meant was she was alone. No one would be in her house the entire afternoon.
What she meant was we could be together. And I don’t know if I was too horny to process her words clearly, but I think she also meant that the time had come, after months of dating, for us to have sex.
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” I told her.
“Hurry,” she replied and hung up.
It was the shortest conversation we had ever had.
I hastily dressed up, not paying much attention to the clothes I grabbed. But I took the time to shave carefully — Ying Yue hated having to make excuses about stubble burn — and I washed what I could in record time. I hopped into my father’s old car, and twenty four minutes later, I was at Ying Yue’s street, the unmistakable odour of burnt clutch coming from the tires.
I passed her house and parked at the end of the street, about four houses down from her house, as I always did. Just in case. We always made sure to be safe about being found out.
As I shut off the engine, I remembered the last time I was there, just last week. I was dropping her off after a date, and as we kissed goodbye, one thing led to another. Neither of us should have been surprised. Things had been getting hot and heavy between us lately.
That night, it was raining. The downpour was biblical. It was monsoon season, and it was as if buckets of water were falling from the clouds. I could hardly see ten feet in front of me, and if anyone was crazy enough to be out in the rain, they wouldn’t have been able to see inside the car — and just as well.
Inside the car, clothes had come unbuttoned, then shed completely, as we kissed. She pressed close to me, practically in the driver’s seat herself. I reached between her legs and under her black cotton panties and after some fumbling, fingered her hard clit. Meanwhile, she wrestled with my button fly, and after a short struggle found what she had been looking for.
We had never gotten quite so far. There was never an opportunity, never enough time. We would make out at the drop of a hat, whenever we were alone. But it was always, “Ah Ma is coming home soon, you have to go.” We would grope each other in movie theatres, engage in deep tonguing in the back of the library, and make out in the car, whether it was parked or moving. But always, we’d have to button up, zip up and rearrange our clothes and hair before we got caught.
That night, in the car, in the rain, we got closer to the actual act than we ever had before. A nearby street lamp was the only source of light, and I could barely see her perfect, naked body in the darkness. Even then, her pale skin was luminous. Her jeans and knickers were scrunched up below her knees, then her long thighs gave way to sparse, dark fuzz where my hand was nestled. My other hand cupped one of her breasts, finger and thumb around the nipple. I feasted on the long curve of her shoulder and neck as she made small sounds of pleasure that rose and gained volume until she spasmed and came.
She kissed me as the spasms went on and subsided, then almost shyly, she pulled back just an inch, gave out a small laugh and said, as if it wasn’t obvious, as if I didn’t know, “I came.”
After that night in the pouring rain, there was a small but subtle change in Ying Yue. Where once we enjoyed talking the day away, there was now a burning obsession with sex. Instead of being content killing time at a cafe, we were constantly hunting for ways to be alone. When we did, finally, make out again, I felt an urgency in her. There was hunger in every kiss. And then, she said it.
“I want you to make love to me,” she said.
I kissed her, told her that I loved her, and said I wanted the same thing. There was no doubt in my mind.
And so we made plans.
Unlike other couples we knew, Ying Yue and I were certifiable virgins. Many of them, we knew, had taken the plunge in junior year. Or we guessed they had. There was something tangible between these couples. There was a thick, almost visible familiarity with each other’s bodies, a complete and absolute act of possession whenever they would casually touch. Ying Yue and I were now in our senior year, with graduation just around the corner, the last virgin couple standing, still awkward and goofy whenever we held hands. But not for long.
A date was set. Birth control pills were purchased. We were both acutely aware of what we stood to lose if she got pregnant, so we took every precaution, even if it was driving both of us mad. We would wait until she got her period, and then wait another ten days to make sure the pills were in effect. The internet said seven days, but you could never be too sure. It wasn’t exactly romantic, but it was a good plan.
The day she called me and said “Ah Ma’s not at home” was not that day.
Continue reading here to know what happens next.