Chapter 5
970words
It was a small gathering organized by Leo, in his incredibly cramped apartment. I remember wearing a black bodycon dress, having just ended an especially disappointing date with Mr. C—he actually suggested we attend his ex-girlfriend's birthday party, saying "we're all friends anyway." Please, I needed an evening to help me forget the stress of my workday, not to participate in his emotional recycling bin.
So when I was pouring my third glass of wine in Leo's kitchen, that boy who had been stealing glances at me from the corner finally gathered the courage to approach.
"Hi," he said, with that nervousness only guys in their early twenties possess, "I'm Daniel."
I turned around and looked him over carefully. Not tall, skinny, dressed like a typical New York University art student—ripped jeans, vintage T-shirt, and those limited-edition sneakers that looked expensive. His face was full of youthfulness, but his eyes were clear.
"Chloe." I handed him a glass of wine. "Are you Leo's friend?"
"Roommate's friend's friend," he laughed, clearly also finding the complicated social chain absurd. "I know it sounds stupid."
"Not stupid, that's just how socializing works in New York." I took a sip of my drink. "Student?"
"Yes, design major. You?"
"Also design, except I've already graduated."
The conversation that followed was relaxed, and I found that although Daniel was young, he was very interesting. He wasn't like other men who tried to impress me, boasting about their achievements or pretending to be profound. He just chatted with me very sincerely, asked me about my work, and shared his views on art.
Then, under the influence of the fourth drink, he said that sentence I still can't forget to this day.
"Chloe, can I ask you a very personal question?"
"Depends on how personal."
He took a deep breath, as if preparing to jump off a cliff. "I think you're captivating, confident, and... you know what you want. I wonder, would you find it ridiculous if a guy had absolutely no experience?"
I was taken aback. In my experience, men typically exaggerate their experience rather than admit their lack of it.
"You mean...?"
"I mean I've never been with. A woman. Not at all." His face turned red, but his gaze remained fixed on mine. "I know it sounds pathological at my age, but I just never met the right person, and I didn't want to just do it with anyone."
This honesty caught me off guard. My "rotation list" consisted of experienced men—some even experienced to the point of being tiresome. But this boy...
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because..." he took another deep breath, "because I hope you can teach me. I think the first time should be beautiful, should be with a woman I truly respect. And I respect you."
That's how Daniel became the "D" on my list. Not because of his technique, not because of any excitement he could bring me, but because his sincerity made me want to give something in return.
---
That night two weeks later, being with Daniel was a special experience.
Not passion, not conquest, but a gentle giving. He was nervous, awkward, sincere, like a blank canvas waiting for the first stroke of color. I guided him, taught him, and in this process, I discovered a long-forgotten feeling—being needed, not for my body, but for my wisdom and patience.
"Thank you," he whispered in my arms, "thank you for giving me such a beautiful first time."
I caressed his hair, feeling a complex emotion welling up inside me. On my "list," everyone represented a different function—Alex was passion, Ben was control, Ethan was supposed to be stability. But Daniel? He reminded me of what sex was originally meant to be: sharing, exploration, genuine connection.
Perhaps this was what I had been searching for all along but was afraid to admit.
---
The next morning, I was awakened by my phone vibrating. Daniel had sent a long string of text messages.
"Chloe, I want to tell you some good news! I got a girlfriend!"
"Her name is Sarah, I met her at an art exhibition. We talked for a long time, and I found I could be very natural around her."
"I think this is all because you taught me to be confident. Not just in bed, but confident as a man."
"I know what we had might be ending now, but I wanted to thank you. Thank you for giving me such a precious experience."
"You will always be that special person."
I lay in bed, looking at these messages, feeling a complex surge of emotions. There was happiness for him, but also an indescribable sense of loss.
Daniel had "graduated." He had learned what he needed from my life, and then moved on to seek true love. And me? I'm still here, still cycling through my "rotation list," still using physical intimacy to fill an emotional void.
I got up, made coffee, and stood by the window watching the Brooklyn morning. People on the street hurried by, each with their own destination, their own lives to live.
Maybe it's time to ask myself what I truly want.
Meanwhile, several blocks away, Mason also stood by his window, coffee in hand, excited about the decision he made last night.
He was going to find Angel. Not as a client, but as a man who genuinely wanted to get to know her.
He didn't know where this would lead, but for the first time, he felt ready to take that risk.
