The Forty-Year-Old Virgin - A Lesbian Twist

A Short Story

Chapter One

I shuffled my feet along the carpet, keeping my head down, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone just in case they looked at me and said, you don't belong here. The line moved slowly in front of the sign for Q through T.

Even though I saw the coffee, tea, and pastries laid out on the buffet tables, all I could smell was a faint odor of disinfectant that was probably used by the cleaning crew before the crowd of lesbians swarmed the hotel. After receiving my goodies, I planned to find a Starbucks. I didn't trust hotel coffee, especially when I couldn't smell it. I'd heard the Starbucks was within walking distance from the hotel and not inside it like most places. That was probably good for me because I kept picking up those extra pounds. According to the charts, I was pushing at least forty pounds over my ideal weight.

When I reached the table, I glanced up briefly to give the attractive older woman sitting at the table my name.

"Kathy Small," I said thickly. I hated my large tongue. Even if my physical appearance didn't give it away, which it did, my drooping eyes and my viscous speech impediment confirmed most people's quick assessment.

I saw a brief moment of discomfort in the woman before she fingered through the cards and found my name badge.

"And here's your ticket for the banquet." She handed me the small red ticket. "I see you're a virgin."

Startled, I looked up. How in the heck did she know I was a virgin, except by assuming that someone with Down Syndrome never had sex, even if they had just turned forty, like me? "Huh?"

"A con virgin. You should definitely go to the session they have for con virgins and connect with the buddy they assigned to you. It helps to make this experience more comfortable," she replied.

My hackles went down, and I actually smiled. "Thanks."

I waddled away, not stalked, slinked, or scurried. When you are a dumpy middle-aged woman who carries a lot of extra weight for your height and frame, you don't gracefully go anywhere like they describe in all the lesbian fiction romance novels.

I put my short legs in motion and headed in the direction of the hotel exit to make the trek to Starbucks. I was in desperate need of coffee at this moment. Caffeine withdrawal was a foregone conclusion, and the pounding on my head reminded me it was way past the time I normally had my first cup.

†

Several round tables peppered the large space. I made a beeline for an empty table off to the far right and sat down, avoiding eye contact with everyone, even the jolly woman greeting each and every person who entered the room. She laughed and hugged a few people I assumed were the assigned buddies. Her presence filled the room with warmth. I wanted to feel her arms around me, but since I'd made a large arc to avoid any other human being, that wasn't going to happen.

A couple of people ambled over to my table, even though I hoped few women would choose my table. I was fiddling with my name badge, and I smiled when they sat down. I felt better when I realized they were as nervous as I was. This was a novel experience for everyone in the room who wasn't a buddy. I began to feel an affinity for these women.

A tall, thin woman with close-cropped gray hair remarked, "I really debated about coming to this session, but I heard the conference organizers do a great job of making everyone feel comfortable."

I nodded.

The bubbly woman offering everyone hugs started to make her way to our table. She methodically reached out to those who had escaped her greeting when entering the room.