I shift in my seat.
There's this strange...fullness, not pain-not exactly-but a soreness that makes me clench my thighs under the desk.
Like something inside me remembers being opened.
I press my palms against the table.
Try to breath evenly.
Try to stay here.
But my mind slides again.
I never imagined a woman's body pressed against mine could make me feel so-So undone.
So hot.
So raw.
Not even boys in those silly stolen magazine pages made me feel like this.
It was her.
Her mouth.
Her hands.
Her weight, soft but sure, pinning me down like I was something she already knew how to touch.
I swallowed hard.
My cheeks burn.
It's like I can still feel her lips sucking on my lower lip-slow and deep- The way she bit me softly, then soothed the sting with her tongue.
And the way I bit my own tongue, trying not to make a sound.
Trying not to move-because every little shift made the pleasure worse. Or better. I don't even know.
I grip the edge of the desk.
The heat won't go away.
Not in my face.
Not between my legs.
Not in that deep inside that feels like it's still... tingling.
I blink. Hard.
That weight.
That wet.
That slow.
That good.
A soft knock on my desk startles me.
It's Cynthia, my dormmate- the girl who sleeps on the lower bunk in Dorm 6. She looks a little sleepy but has her usual smirk playing on her lips.
"Hey," she whispers. "Do you still have A-plus Topical Physics? Mine is missing again- I think it vanished with the deputy principal. I haven't even finished the assignment Miss Emily left us. You know we can't dare go in without it. I don't want trouble."
She nudged me lightly. "And... you could help me with your homework. I know you've already finished it-you're always on her side anyway. It won't hurt if I copy just a little."
I nod and turn to my locker.
As I'm rummaging through the shelf, she adds more softly," By the way.. where did you go last night? I didn't see you after we clinked glasses."
Her voice is light, but there's curiosity in it.
I hesitate for a second. My hand closes around the textbook, together with my old exercise book-the one with barely readable scribbles from late-night prep.
Before I can answer, she leans in closer and squints at me.
"Wait-Jennifer, what's that on your neck?"
"Huh?" I glance at her, puzzled.
She reaches out and gently touches the side of my throat.
Her fingers are warm, soft, cautious-as if she's testing something.
"It's looks... I don't know. Red. Did you burn yourself?"
I blink.
Burn?
I have no idea what she's talking about.
Without thinking, I pass her the Physics textbook and my old exercise book, then quickly grab the compact mirror hidden between my extra socks and lip balm in the back of the locker.
I open it with trembling fingers and lift it to my neck.
There it is.
A hickey.
Not light.
Not accidental.
Dark red, soft at the edges, like the ghost of a mouth left behind.
The room spins for half a second. My throat dries.
I snap the mirror shut.
Cynthia is still watching me. "You okay?"
"I think I need to go to the nurse," I mutter, rising too fast from my desk.
She raises an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"
"My head's pounding. I feel...off."
She nods slowly, then smiles. "Maybe it's the hangover?"
I blink at her, still foggy. "Hangover?"
"Yeah," she chuckles. "First time drinking real stuff, right? That's what it feels like. Your head forgets everything, your body doesn't."
I try to force a smile. "Maybe..."
As I turn to leave, she calls after me, "Don't skip breakfast! You'll faint like a chicken in parade practice."
But I'm already halfway to the door.
My fingertips linger over the side of my neck.
Still warm.
Still hers.
The corridor is too quiet. Only my footsteps echo off the old stone walls as I turn the corner toward the stairwell, the cold of the railing brushing my hand.
As I begin to descend, Miss Emily appears, climbing the stairs.
She's halfway up already-and I'm caught mid-step.
Her black heels pause. Her hands cradle a thick folder and a familiar green-covered textbook.
Physics Made Clear-K.C.S.E. Edition.
She sees me. And I see her.
Her brows lift slightly, eyes narrowing as if to read something written across my skin.
"Jennifer," she says, voice low, calm, but careful. "Where are you going? I'm on my way to your class."
My throat tightens. "I...I was going to the... to the school clinic," I manage, voice unsteady.
She frowns gently. "Are you feeling unwell?"
She steps closer.
And then it hits me-
Her perfume.
A subtle blend of lavender... and something deeper. Something musky. Intimate.
I remember it.
That night.
Her lips pressed to mine. Her breath against my throat. That same scent-on her neck- her chest, everywhere-mixed with heat and skin and trembling hands.
My knees weaken.
The memory slams into me- soft moans muffled against a shoulder, the taste of something forbidden, the pressure of her body, the slow rhythm between us...
She touches my forehead.
Too soft. Too knowing. Too much
"You're warm," she murmurs. "Is it a fever?"
Then her eyes shift-lowering just slightly-to the side of my neck.
She sees it.
The hickey.
Her lips part slightly, and her gaze lingers.
Not in shock. Not denial.
But something still, heavy, almost unfinished.
And in that moment-
I remember her lips.
There. On my neck.
The sting that melted into pleasure.
The mark I now carry.
My cheeks burn.
I blink-a breath catches.
The scent, the heat, the memory...
Too much.
That's when I step back.
"I think I just need something for the headache," I whisper, trying not to meet her eyes.
She doesn't stop me.
"Alright," she says quietly . "Tell the nurse it's urgent if you need to. I'll see you in class, Jennifer."
I turn and rush down the stairs, heart pounding.
But even as I descend, I feel her behind me- The weight of her stare,
The scent of lavender still clinging to my skin like last night's shadow.
The infirmary is dim and quiet when I step inside. Nurse Christina looks up from her ledger with an unreadable expression, her pen pausing mid-stroke.
"Headache," I say quickly, avoiding her eyes.
She nods slowly, fingers moving with practiced ease as she opens a drawer and pulls out a strip of Panadol.
"For the headache," she murmurs.
Then another. "This one's for the pain."
And a third. "Dizziness."
I reach out and take them with a quiet thank you, but her silence lingers, like she knows more than she says.
As I leave the nurse's office, I tell myself I'll head back to class.
But halfway down the corridor, something in my body pulls me the other way.
I feel...heavy. Like my skin doesn't quite belong to me. My limbs ache. There's a strange tug low in my abdomen-not pain, not yet, just an echo of it. The thought of seeing Miss Emily in class, of sitting still and pretending nothing happened, only makes it worse.
I can still smell her.
Lavender. Warmth. The ghost of her perfume clings to my skin like a second presence. It makes my neck prickle. It makes everything stir.
No. I need to rinse it off. To feel clean again.
I slip back to the dormitory when no one's watching, pull the curtain shut behind me, and start to undress.
My blouse sticks slightly under my arms. My skirt feels too tight at the waist . As I peel off my underwear, I freeze.
A single rust-colored smear stares back at me.
It's not much. Not even enough to soak through. But it's there.
Blood.
For a moment, I just stand there.
Not my period-I know my cycle. This isn't it.
A flush creeps up my throat.
Am I...?
Did I lose my virginity?
To a woman?
I touch my abdomen again. The dull ache is still there, faint but unmistakable.
This isn't a dream . This isn't something I imagined.
It happened.
I step into the shower and let the water run until the steam wraps around me. I scrub harder than I should, but it doesn't change anything.
Something in me is different now.
Something in me is open.