Discussing sex track records

- Don’t gossip behind my back! – I begged in despair- Please, tell me what’s happening to me!

Ed sighed deep and smiled at me with infinite patience.

- The guy in the elevator blew some kind of amnesic powder on your face, so that you would forget your most recent memories. You’re now hexed and I’m making some arrangements for you to recover your memories. Then, you’ll be free to do as you please. At any rate, when you become Leni again, we need to talk.

“We need to talk” actually sounded more like “you better listen” and in my circumstances it was quite scary. I had some curiosity about my supposed relationship with him:

- We need to talk about what? -I asked-
- It’s a long story. You’re no longer the person I used to know now, so I’d rather talk about it when you get back to yourself, provided that the spell can be broken.

It was clear that to speak to me about our past in these circumstances, as if I had been struck by a mysterious disease that would have changed me into a different person, was cruelly distressing.

- You said before that we were a lot more than friends and a bit less than lovers. Did we ever …? –I asked-
- What? Had sex, perhaps? –he asked back-

I nodded.

- Yes, we’ve had. –he answered-
- And what was it like, if I may ask –I asked, evily-

Would he be the “bam-wham-and-thank-you-Sam” type? Or would he rather be the kind to send roses and play mandolins under windows? I was curious like a cat.

- I don’t know what it was like for you; for me it was… intoxicating passionate and extremely tender. –he said, smiling softly-

Contrary to what I expected, I concluded that he belonged to an endangered species: he had feelings! How wrong I had been to believe all my life that men lacked sensitivity except on the shaft of their dick, especially in their mature years.

I always thought that it's in the male nature to shag first and feel later, if they did feel anything at all; that sex comes easy and that most times, when a guy romances a woman, it’s just for a shag later on, and no-thing else.

And this one was talking to me about tenderness and passion.

I blushed to real red. How come my brain had missed what appeared to be such a wonderful experience?

My heart told me that he expected from me at least a short comment; a small detail about our relationship; the indulgence of a tiny memory. But I was completely unable to find a trace of him in my mind.

- Tell me something, Leni… You now know a lot about my past, but I don’t know much about yours. Let’s try a small memory effort. Tell me a secret… how many lovers have you had during your young life?

I gasped in amazement.

- Hey! It’s extremely unfair to take advantage of a poor amnesic woman to rummage through her past! -I complained-
- Just make a little effort. -he said-
- Ok, as far back as I can remember… I first had sex at college, when I was seventeen, with one of my classmates. When did you had sex for the first time?
- It's hard to tell... In my land and during my days it used to be very different. I was young and foolish. We still had the "droit du Seigneur" and I used it many times, though I’m not exactly proud of it.
- The "droit du Seigneur"? What’s that?
- Ius primae noctis. You’ve never heard of that, haven't you? Well, you’re not missing much. Forget it.

In the times of the feudal lords, the “droit du Seigneur”, "ius primae noctis", or most recently, "the lord's right", was an alleged legal right allowing the lord of an estate to take the virginity of the estate's virgins.

The origins of this barbaric pagan tradition are blurred, but it reached its peak in the Middle Ages, where it spread all over Europe, including Burdishland, paradoxically known as the cradle of the civilised world. Legend tells that in the 16th century, ius primae noctis was replaced with a bridal tax in Scotland. On the other hand, as late as the early 20th century, Kurdish chieftains in Western Armenia still reserved the right to bed Armenian brides on their wedding night.

- Enough about me. Tell me what happened then. –he asked-

Then I whispered to myself, looking down and slowly counting on my fingers:

- Then I had Paul… Martin… Steve… John… Neil… Pete… Dave… Bob… and another one whose name and face I can’t remember.

That triggered his quiet fear and inner anger.

- I’m not surprised that you’ve had such a nice track record, Miss Shagsalot; just to look at yourself. I presume I’m the one whose name and face you can’t remember. –he said, sharply-
- I don’t do it on purpose.
- That’s a good thing! You never cease to amaze me Leni. How can you possibly remember so well all these dorks that never meant anything to you but cannot remember me?

He had probably had a gazillion young maids by using that notorious ius primae noctis privilege, and yet he was jealous like hell and possessive as a viper when it came to talk about my past suitors! His irrational self was quietly screaming pain and anger.

But he asked for that. I tried to re-enact in my mind the map of all my past relationships. I could see a bunch of faces, names, occasional dates, boyfriends, love affairs, one-night stands… but he was not among them!

- Who are you? –I asked, staring into his eyes-
- Oh, come on. –he answered, unwillingly-
- My memories of you are deleted. I want to know who are you.



"Who are you?" (The Who) ((I know, too predictable, but this track is still great. ))

Illustrations:

First picture: "Gossip" by Ray Caesar
Second picture: "Amnesia". Photomontage by visual artist Jennifer K. Mulcahy

http://www.jenniferkmulcahy.com.