Last Meal

Last Meal

The last meal I had as a virgin was at a local Harvey’s in Rexdale, Ontario.  I think the restaurant is still there though it has been renovated several times in the last 33 years. 


We don't always have such clear landmarks of our watershed moments. Certainly not for ones like this.


I was 17 when I decided that I had waited long enough to traverse this particular ritual into manhood. I don't drive past it much any more since we moved cities, but every once in a while if I know I have to drive through Rexdale on an errand, I make an effort to drive by Islington Road and Rexdale Blvd to look at it. 

 

My friend Ron and I had talked about going to downtown Toronto to look at hookers (and maybe “get one") for several months. For the longest time it was just that... talk. I don't remember what pushed us that final step from thought into action. Payday? Hormones? A combination of the two? Ron always said it wouldn't be his first time, and being a guy he of course had every reason to lie to me, but I was up front with him that it would be my first.


If his actions and abilities as an adult were any indication, I should have believed him. He never seemed to have any difficulty finding sex, or women, or companionship. I was always a little nerdy and never quite met the right girl. We moved in together into our first apartment and the same day as the move he slept in the apartment of the girl he met directly across the hall from us.

Whatever gave us the courage this particular evening, I don't recall. But we made our way downtown and began scouting on Young street. We used to love walking up and down the main drag of Young street in Toronto. Loads of people to watch and everything happening all at once wherever you looked. The lights from the huge "Sam The Record Man" shop lit the way along with many other signs, now long since gone.


I picked one I liked. I'd seen her on previous visits downtown with Ron. A blonde whose hair seemed to fall over and cover her eyes in an almost shy, demur fashion. Wearing what I seem to recall, was a one-piece blue sort of body-suit. If anything, she was just cute! We waited a few minutes while Ron made his selection.


Once Ron found his girl, mine seemed to have disappeared. I described her to Ron's date who promptly replied: "Oh yes... I know where she is". After which she led us into a nearby KFC, holding Ron's hand so changing his mind was not an option. Seeing the blonde in line she yelled out the girls name and said "Hey... this guy wants you!"


Ron's eyes rolled in his head and I tried to disappear into the floor as people around us... families, singles, parents, everyone. Looked up mid-bite to see who I was, and just who had I selected. Apparently I selected a good one, as no one objected as the girl jogged to the door and we all went outside and jumped into a nearby taxi.


Ron's date knew a motel just a few streets over that rented by the hour and the cab dropped us off. We separated and I went up to a room with the blonde. Looking back, I seem to remember I was excited more than I was nervous. I was just curious what to expect.


Not making eye contact, she told me it would be $60, which I dropped on the bed and she picked up before the bills had fully settled. Then, without comment, she started to undress with her eyes on the floor.


I figured I should do the same and began to undress. The silence became a little over-bearing as I thought one of us should say something. So as I shook off my jeans I said something I thought was mature, and empathetic, and would show a little interest in this person: "So, what made you get into this line of work?"


"Listen buddy", without looking up, "I don't need no lectures".


Chagrined, and embarrassed, I mumbled out a small "Sorry", as I stood there naked in front of her.


Without ceremony, she hopped on the bed and lay spread-eagled in front of me. I was hard before I even made it to the bed and she sat up near the base of the bed just long enough to slip on a condom before laying back down, her arms behind her head.


I lowered myself onto-and into-her, intensely aware of the pressure I felt on and around my penis. Pressure so different than the familiar hand I had been limited to for the past 17 years. As I thrusted I wondered if she shouldn't be making noises of some kind to show just how huge and wonderful I was. Surely she had never had someone like me before?


I don't remember how long I lasted, but it couldn't have been long. I recall spending most of it trying to not crush her under my weight and what do I do with my face and mouth as I was, apparently, not allowed to kiss her.


We wrapped up and waited downstairs in silence for a few minutes before Ron and his date came down. We all jumped back into a taxi which dropped us off back on Young and wished the ladies a good night.

I don't remember her name, or the fake name she gave. She never asked me mine.