The Ghostwriter's Words

Sara: Not Her First Confession

This would not be Sara's first confession, assuming she had the courage to make it. Early in their relationship, she had shared a story that she'd known would have shocked and offended most people hearing it. But they'd both had pasts that would have shocked and offended their share. Neither had denied that. And the spontaneous combustion between them the instant their lips met that first time had been anything but virginal. There'd been no hesitation. There'd been no uncertainty, whether they should or shouldn't. The only thing on either of their minds, in that fury of passion and lust, had been to get one another off as hard, fast, and often as possible, determined not to be the first to surrender to the same orgasmic sensations building within themselves. Neither could have believed that there'd never been anyone before them. If there'd been a thread of rational thought when they broke that first kiss and locked onto one another's eyes, both their hands busy down the other's pants, it would have been impossible to believe that either had suddenly been freed from some prudish sheltered past. Both knew what they were doing. Both had been around. And both enjoyed the benefits of the other's past experiences.

Still, Sara had found herself arguing, once again, as she began her tale, that she hadn't been a virgin their first time together. Which couldn't have been in serious doubt, could it? But her claims of earlier sexual experiences continued to be a recurring topic of debate. Even if she had felt safe sharing the truth of her age, that she'd been 'around' for centuries, not merely the few years the youthful appearance of her face suggested: How would that have been more readily accepted? Leaving her with the dilemma of appearing too young to have possibly done all she foolishly and negligently continued to claim, rather than shutting up, acknowledging her braggadocious overstatement, and accepting the inevitable, if affectionate, teasing chastisement to follow. No, Sara was determined to provide anecdotal support for her insistence that she'd been with more men than she'd bothered to count, and once the words began leaving her mouth, she hadn't been able to bring herself to take them back and claim she'd been lying when she hadn't. She'd had never kept count. Unlike the Professor, who'd loved to taunt Sammy, and Eve, with his regularly updated tally, Sara had never kept score.

Lying, even deftly dancing along the edge of the truth as she'd been doing since... for a long time, was an exhausting, full-time endeavor. So, Sara had tried to be as open and honest as she could, if careful with her choice of words, afraid she'd slip and reveal more than required, the explanation of which would lead to an avalanche of truths she wasn't prepared to share. But there she'd been, trying to pull herself from another hole that sharing too enthusiastically dug for her. Then a moment of shocked realization struck her as she began to tell the story of her first wanderlust, and a stream of raw, unfiltered truth burst from her mouth before she'd had a chance to process it for herself and filter all that she revealed:

"Oh, my God! This was only a few days after learning that my father was murdered in prison. It never occurred to me there might be a connection, although I have no idea why that should suddenly matter. My father meant nothing to me from the moment I left his house, except for hating him for my mother's death."

Sara recalled tears pouring from her eyes and streaming down her face. Then she'd completely given in to her emotions and sobbed without reservations when she rarely cried. Not even when she'd learned her mother was dead.

"Who he murdered!"

...

"Because of me!"

...

"Because I defied him!"

...

"Because she told me to defy him!"

...

"So he couldn't force me to marry some evil old man. Who'd probably beaten his previous wives to death. And, if I hadn't provided him a son within a few years, I'd probably have joined the others in the ground and been replaced by wife number four, as if I'd never existed."