(A15) The Fluidity of Consent

Hey everyone! Finally another story post! I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to this. I’m still settling into life and being creative as a full time job doesn’t leave me a lot of juice for storytelling. Lately, anyway.

Heads up: this post is NSFW. It’s not particularly graphic, and I’ve kept it short in order to prevent it from being too porn-ish and whatnot, and hopefully I don’t go into too much detail. But just know it’s about sex.

I leave it up to your discretion.

It’s mid-winter in Portland, and you’re fed up.

It’s not just the weather. The game company that hired you to do concept work just assigned you a list of nearly twenty assets (because you insisted you could do it, stupid you); school assigns homework as if each class were the only class you should have to take; you’re creatively burnt out; and your roommate has brought over that incredibly annoying new girl from the classes and they’re fucking loudly about three feet away.

Not that there’s really anywhere else they could conceivably go. Natasha, the other roommate, is a little over-possessive about the rest of the house space, partly because she’s selfish and partly because she just had a baby. She has also developed a habit of squirting you with her boob as you walk by, and thinks it’s absolutely hilarious.

Thank God for alcohol.

So while Nate and Gemma fuck loudly over by the closet, you swig directly from your waning bottle of cheap vodka and try to keep working.

Unfortunately, your aggravation levels are rising to something of a fever pitch and finally you just ask them to please, stop, and just fuck anywhere else than right here, right now.

“Hey,” Gemma says to Nate, “Let’s have him join us.”

“Hey Phil. Join us?” This is an unexpected turn of events, but not exactly a new idea. At least not as far as Nate is concerned. But you’re not in the mood at all, you find Gemma particularly undesirable, and above all right now you have work to do.

“No.” You say, allowing mild annoyance into your tone. “I have work to do”.

“Aww, come on!” Says Nate, mischievous and unperturbed. He’s gorgeous, and your closest friend. If you were a woman you’d date him in a second, and if it wouldn’t make your family despair over your soul you’d date him now and all the people who hate over homosexuality can go to hell. Nate’s better than their prejudice. But now is a very bad time. And also, not with her.

“No, seriously. I’m working. Can you just go in the bathroom or something?”
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It isn’t until some years later, as you consider the events of that evening for inclusion in the overall narrative that you realize something:

Gemma is a non-transitioning trans man. If you flip the pronouns for you and him, the entire event takes a different overtone.

I personally feel as though this kind of thought experiment is important for illustrating just how differently we think about men and women in terms of what’s okay, sexually. Thus, for the remainder of the story, I will be ignoring the reality of the moment I’m recalling and invertinc the appropriate gender pronouns to illustrate a point.

If you were a part of this experience, please understand that I find it to be a very valuable memory and that I love you both dearly. I’m just trying to be as accurate to my feelings of the time as possible, while making a political point that I think extends outside the scope of a small post like this one.

And now we resume your regularly scheduled blog post...
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“We can’t” Nate replies. “There’s no room and also Nat might need it.”

“It’s not like you care if people see you”, you point out. “Just do it in the tub or something. You’ve done it before.”

“Come on, all you’ve been doing for days is work. Take a break, come on!”

“No! God, I love you but please just let me work? Besides, he wouldn’t be into me anyway and you know it.” This last proclamation is a fatal mistake- Gemma’s not slow in the head.

He looks at Nate, spreading Loki smile. “What is she into?” He asks.

How does he know I’m into anything? Oh god Gemma’s such a gossip. Come on Nate, don’t tell him!

Nate looks at you, smiles mischievously, and tells him.

Fuck.

Something stirs in you. Shame mixed with anticipation. Panic. You definitely aren’t getting any work done now. What should you do? Hude your stash? Get angry and try to kick them out? You and Nate share a room, so that would be wrong. But what? He’s probably going to think you’re a freak and tell everyone.

“Where does she keep them?” Asks Gemma, now upright and excited.

“In the closet”, Nate replies, grinning like a cheshire, “I’ll show you”.

You glare at Nate in betrayal. This is not at all what you want to do right now. And yet... somehow it’s striking a fantasy. You’ve often imagined an older man taking control and doing this to you. Nate’s technically younger but it doesn’t matter at all right now. Maybe it’s because you’re drunk but the situation is rapidly turning you on.

They get into your side of the closet. Gemma finds your stash. “Oh!” He comments, the way everyone does the first time they see them, “they’re so big!”

You could die of embarrassment. Instead you drink some more vodka and brush the hair out of your eyes.

Now they’re coming round your computer, and you’re blushing furiously, too many thoughts going through your head to catch any of them and yet the situation is so shocking that you can’t think at all. You’re still processing the breach of trust and also the positive reaction that came from it. You’re worried about your work and your homework but also you’re living a badly timed and awkward version of a fantasy thaf is playing out in real life.

By the time Gemma lies you back and spreads your legs, unfolds the thing, slides it under, and then lowers himself onto you, you’re putty. At this point, it’s happening whether you like it or not.

So, you surrender.
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