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"Don't worry about it mom," I said. "There's nothing to talk about." You mean you've never had sex?" she asked in a very surprised tone."Never have, never will," I said. Her eyes got huge."Christina, you're too pretty to be a lesbian," she said nervously. "Or you would be if you'd take all of those spikes out of your face and pick one or two somewhat natural hair colors." Mom, I'm not a lesbian," I said. She actually blew out a sigh of relief so loud that it was audible."I'm asexual," I said casually."You're a sexual what?" she asked smiling."A-sexual," I said. "I'm not having sex with anyone or anything. I just don't see the benefit of rubbing up against some sweaty man or woman. It's simply not something I'm interested in." Her face fell.I could see her visions of grand-brats disappearing before my eyes. "But what..." she started."Mom, I'm just not "Mother" material. Shit, I can't even take care of goldfish. And I don't want to be responsible for another human being's life. I have. His face is vaguely familiar, like I’ve seen it somewhere recently. TV maybe? ‘Sir? Sir, are you alright?’ I lick my lips and regret it. There is powder from the airbag all over my face. The taste doesn’t go with the copper taste of my blood. ‘Sir?’ he asks yet again. His voice is piercing and getting louder by the second. ‘I’m fine. See to the lady in the other car.’ I blink at him. ‘Ladies first.’ ‘My sister’s looking after her. I came to check on you. How the head?’ He kneels down in front of me his feet crunching glass. ‘Still attached by a little string.’ I tell him moving my hand to the back of my neck. ‘Otherwise it feels like it would float away.’ My vision comes more into focus and I blink the grit from my eyes. I try to pull against the car roof to get out but his hand on my chest stops me. ‘I think you should sit still, sir. We called an ambulance. Let them take a look at you before you go moving to much.’ I look down at his hand and the very muscular arm it’s attached.
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The laughter was more subdued, the time still just as enjoyable, as though the laughter had covered some sense of nervousness we experienced. I had never noticed it, not until it disappeared. We made our way to the car, her hand in mine, strolling at a slow pace. It took me back to wandering around the Rodin at the museum, that same sense of motion, elongating our time. There was a fever to our kiss as I thanked her for the evening, before driving her home. My hand found the back of her neck, playing tenderly with the silky strands of her hair, her arms snaked under my jacket and felt as though they were on the skin of my back as she responded. There was exploration in that kiss, of limits, boundaries, intentions and the limitlessness of it astounded me. We were open and sharing of ourselves as we caressed, and at once our bodies moved tight. I had never thought to hide my arousal, it would have been pointless in that instant. I gave into it, to her and the sensations that threatened.

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