Innocence(Sex on the Beach)
By Robin Zemek
It wasn’t the death of my innocence that opened my eyes, it was the death of my ignorance.
Maybe you wonder what that means.
Maybe I should tell you about sex on the beach.
It sucks. It’s sandy and cold and when the waves crash you are soaked and soaked through to the bone. She clings to you, trying to siphon your warmth.
Don’t try it.
Sand gets everywhere.
Everywhere.
But it was night. The sky was black and starless and we had walked for what seemed like forever, hands all over each other.
This is what I do.
There was sand in between my toes and her toes and she taught me a trick to get the sand off my feet. Just keep rubbing your feet in the sand. The wet sand sticks to the dry sand or something. All I knew was that it worked.
She had dark skin and dark hair and dark eyes. I probably would have lost her in the night if I hadn’t of held her so closely. So tightly. Squeezing her.
It should be noted my numerous affairs and goings on with the fairer sex, that while quite frequent in nature, are never anything that lasts. This traces itself back to four years ago, leaving my virginity in a corner office and exiting with two of hottest pieces of ass Goldman and Associates had to offer. One of them didn’t even work there. I think she cleaned drapes or something. She had a tongue piercing and red hair. This just led to the spiral of depravity and lust that kept spinning for a long time.
I’m not a sex tourist. I like to think I came away to Ecuador to get away from my self destruction and dead end of a life. But then again, there I was, back in the pussy.
There are worse addictions. This one doesn’t seem to kill me. On the outside.
And there she was, breathing on my neck, tickling her hand down my chest.
I remember being a little kid, and having my first crush and having that mean something. Because this girl from Ecuador, Geena, doesn’t mean anything. I just told her she was beautiful and a few drinks later we’re here.
On the beach.
In the dark.
Rubbing the sand off our feet.
I didn’t used to be this good with women. I couldn’t usually win them over with a wink and a nod. I know more pickup lines then I’ll ever need to use now.
Are your pants a mirror, because I can sure see myself in them.
Are you from Tennessee, because you’re the only ten I see.
Did it hurt?
When you fell from heaven.
Now they just fall left and right and centre. Give em a wink, buy em a drink, and fuck em. No clever last rhyme.
But it doesn’t mean anything.
I remember being a kid and wanting to fall in love. This isn’t love.
It was humid and sticky and forty feet away I could hear the jungle. The thin jungle between us and the little town I was staying in. We found a dry spot.
In the fourth grade I figured I was in love. She had the cutest laugh, and I’d do anything to make her laugh. I remember drawing her little cartoons and presenting them to her. I remember her smiling at me.
That smile meant something.
Now when a girl smiles at me it just means: I’m going to fuck you.
Her kisses were warm and the alcohol on her breath poured over me. I nudged a stray hair out of her face.
I remember putting my signature at the bottom of the page for her because it meant something. I remember spending entire art classes trying to get her to laugh because I just didn’t know what else to do.
I hold her hips and she’s on top of me in the sand.
There was an indescribable feeling when I made her laugh. She wasn’t just a means to a rear end. She was a person, and I was captivated by all of her. I just wanted to spend more time with her. But I was in grade fucking four. What’s a guy to do?
She made little noises and kissed my neck, rocking gently.
I used to do it to make her smile. Just so she’d smile. Not so I could have my way with her or anything like that. She would smile and I’d think: that’s my smile.
That one’s for me.
And I wouldn’t care about anything else.
But that innocence is gone now. It walked out long ago when I found out about pussy. It packed its bags when I was having a threesome in the corner office with the blonde and the redhead. I hadn’t seen it in a long time.
And there I was, having sex on the beach with an exotic woman.
I should have been on cloud fucking nine.
When she smiled at me before, that was just part of the dance, part of the elaborate mating ritual we humans have devised. I couldn’t claim that smile. That smile wasn’t all I wanted.
Then she arched her back. I remember walking over to her desk and placing my drawing on it. I remember her taking it and looking at it. That was innocence.
She ran her fingernails down my chest, exhaling.
This was ignorance.
I don’t want her for this. This isn’t what I had in mind when I was young.
I want her smile.
Just for now.
Just so ignorance can die.
