I was 19 that summer. The city—like its inhabitants—was sweltering hot.
Beautiful 20-somethings poured like water from subways onto street corners and into restaurants and bars and old buildings. An urban pheromone factory, sex oozed from these golden gods as beads of perspiration gathered on breastbones and thighs hidden beneath stylish suits.
We were young. We were eager. We had (most of us) come to intern in the greatest political city in the world.
Washington D.C. was a far cry from Wasilla, Alaska where I grew up. Back home, under my parents’ watchful gaze, I’d lived the kind of churchly, modest life that is the hallmark of rural America. I won’t bore you with details, but I will say that my landlocked upbringing played a major role in the delay…
It was embarrassing. Most girls—by the time they are 17 or 18—have done it. And I suspect that in certain places, like California for example, girls probably start doing it at 10 or 11.
That summer—the one I spent in the city—I was almost 20 and I felt a dire sense of urgency.
My intern group was scheduled for a weekend trip to Rehoboth Beach at the end of July. On this trip there would be no parental supervision. There would, however, be dozens of sexy co-eds wearing next-to-nothing. And they’d be slathering lotions and flirting and frolicking. The only thing hotter than these beachside babes would be the sun under which they’d bake.
It was for this trip, that I wanted to be prepared.
The week before Rehoboth, I stopped into J.’s. I’d been there before, but this time was different. I was nervous. And I think he knew that. A handsome boy, when he looked into my frightened eyes and asked if he could help me, I said yes.
That day, in some cluttered part of the city, I passed through a proverbial gauntlet of maidenhood.
With my breasts cupped in a J. Crew top (75% off!) selected by a sales dude with my specifications, I was glad I’d finally done it.
I’d finally … for the first time … worn a bikini.
And shortly after my first time wearing a bikini, I experienced the first time wearing a bikini whilst throwing up in a children’s pool in Rehoboth. But that’s a whole nother story.
Til next dear hannihaus readers, adieu.
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P.S. Maaa I’m sorry if I gave you a heart attack with this one.