4

Tessa

How do you go about asking a girl to let you interview her about her sex life?

I wondered as I stared at my computer screen as if it had all the answers to my questions? I looked at the text I’d inserted into the box on the wanted page of the online version of the school paper. 

ISO female between 18-21 involved in a polyamorous relationship for interview.

Great! 

Who would apply for that, and the problem was that I didn’t have the right line to attract the right interviewees. I sighed as I felt as if I was way out of my league. What did I know about sex, apart from what I would find online or I’d see in a porno? 

Girls want to share your story? Have more than one man; then, you’re wanted for an exclusive interview.

No, this didn’t have the right feel either. 

“Errh!” I screamed at my scream. 

I knew nothing about sex, let alone have any personal feelings about what it would mean to have a man or two or even more. I read that some women had up to seven guys. That’s just crazy! What would you do with all seven of them at once?

I was way out of my league. None of this was making sense, but it had to because I had to save the paper. I just needed to think outside of the line. 

Neither of my adverts would attract the reaction that I needed badly to get that exclusive interview. My mind drifted to me having that many men and what difference it would make to my life. That answer was simple; I wouldn’t be sitting here trying to figure out how to interview someone, I would just write my own story. 

I laughed at the idea of me being the Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and The City at Chicago University. I still was holding on to my v-card as if it was my most prized possession, something that I should have got rid of a long time ago according to Kim and Cheryl. 

No, I needed to focus; my goal was to save the paper, and a love life could come into play if my plan worked. Right now, I had to hold on to the plan, like I was doing with my v-card. I needed to research, and the only place I could get the idea would be online. It was going to be a long weekend, but a girl’s got a do, what a girls gotta do!

* * *

It took a long weekend of research, to go ahead with the plan. So far, I’d decided to search for a girl or two online, put in teasers and some information on the paper’s website and my ‘personal page’ on the site , some in the hardcopy of the paper, and have a subscription service for the full content of the interview I planned to conduct. It would be a lot of work, but I thought it might be a good way to get subscription numbers up because I planned to spread the entire thing over the next semester and perhaps into the one after that. 

I just needed to find someone to interview and that was hard to do when you were too embarrassed to even ask a simple question. I’d never really been shy, not really. I’d experienced that often because of my curiosity, every now and then I ended up in strange situations that left me wondering just how stupid I could be. That crash back down to earth kept me level-headed, most of the time, but I’d let my friends talk me into this bone-headed idea and now, here I was, trying to figure out how to convince a girl to talk to me about her sex life. 

I was ambitious, curious, driven, all the things a reporter should be, but I was also kind of out of touch with anything to do with sex. It wasn’t that I was ambiguous about sex, or bored by it, I just hadn’t hit that level of hormonal drive that most people my age seemed to have. Maybe my needs were satisfied in other ways, I wondered as I leaned back against my headboard and stared at the text box. Was I curious enough to do this story justice? 

If it saved the paper, then I could drum up some curiosity from somewhere. I hit enter and sent the message out to the world. There was a new news story on the way. I started to write down questions I had myself, created a poll on my personal page, and shared the ad on my I*******m account. Within minutes my inbox was filling up on my phone, my fellow student reporters wanted to know what the fuck I thought I was doing.

It quickly became clear they thought I’d stolen their thunder, pulled the rug out from under them, because from all the outrage I gathered that the idea wasn’t that bad after all. 

“Are you trying to make me look bad? How could post such garbage or even think about doing an article like that?” Douchebag Carter texted me. 

Jealous much, I smirked and flicked the text away.

“My parents read this paper,” another girl on the paper texted to me. 

And, I thought as I flicked to the next one. 

“You can’t do such a trashy story, Tessa, you’re not serious, right?” That came from one of the student editors and I quickly typed up a reply. 

“Watch and learn.” I knew that if I didn’t come across as confident, if I backed down now, they’d all talk me out of it, and from this initial response alone I knew I’d hit on something. 

The rest of the night I fielded questions, and kept a check on my poll. It was being shared because a lot of people left comments, voted on the poll about which questions should be answered first, and I started to get emails. Most of the emails were cranks, some were rude and called me names, others just wanted to know if I’d give them the girl’s number if I found one. Not a single communication was from a girl I could interview, however. 

I sighed with resignation and closed my laptop eventually. I wasn’t going to find someone to interview easily, I guess. Not in the first hours, at least. I’d hoped I would, but it was clear now, that wouldn’t happen. 

This wasn’t going to be an easy project, I knew that, but I wouldn’t give up. Not yet. There’d been a backlash already, and I expected more would come, but that was just life. It wasn’t a huge surprise that people had opinions. Everybody had an opinion on everything nowadays. 

I grabbed a headband, tied my hair up in a bun on my face, and went to the bathroom to wash my face before I called it a night. I only paid enough attention to my face to make sure I washed every part, I didn’t really care what I looked like, if I was pretty or not, only that my face was clean and presentable. Once I’d finished, brushed my teeth, and crawled back into bed, I turned off the lamp on my bedside table and turned on my television. I found YouTube and put on an old television program I liked to fall asleep to. 

It quieted my mind at night to watch the old television programs that I’d watched as reruns with my mother when I was a kid. I could still remember sitting on the couch with her after dinner and watching the show until I fell asleep, curled into her side with my head against her ribs, where I could hear her heartbeat.

I’d wanted to put off coming back to school until we knew she was better, until she was done with all of her treatments and had been cleared but neither of my parents would hear of it. Mom had told me, in a halting pant on that last day I was home, to live my life, for her. She’d been so sick to her stomach she could barely breathe, but the breath she had she used to encourage me to get on with living. That’s what I was doing, I hoped, as I turned my back to the television and pulled the white comforter up over my head. I’d find a way to do this project, to get on with life, and make something of myself.

I wasn’t going to give up without a fight. No one said it would be easy, if everything in life was easy, wouldn’t life be boring.

* * *

I was kidding myself, big time!

Two weeks passed and there was nothing but rude comments and snarky glares from my fellow student writers. I’d hoped by now to be posting updates every Monday morning, adding material to the paper, gaining some traction, but all that came forward were men that wanted to talk about their sexual conquests. Most of them didn’t understand polyamory and thought it was group sex or having more than one girl on a string at a time, and that wasn’t what I was after. 

I wanted to expose the practice for what it was, not what people thought it was. I felt that I was learning something every day about it by reading books that talked about the subject. Who knew that A****n would be filled with books about Reverse Harem? They seemed to be a popular topic, and I must admit a few of them had me hot and sweaty at night with my hands in between my leg. Something that I regularly did, but never with no one in mind. He would be a hot guy, and he would want me, that was the only credential. Now, I couldn’t look at any hot guy without thinking about them at night and the idea of them being a different one each time or even two or three at a time no longer felt sleazy but was slowly becoming my secret fantasy.

Threesome where men were the focus seemed to be gist of the idea that people had about it, but I’d learned it was far more than that during my research. I’d already written several articles on what it was and wasn’t, one that I added to my section of the paper’s website, and the other two went into the paper. This had already spawned questions and debates on my blog posts, which was good because it meant I’d already generated interest.

That was a positive, I thought as I stared morosely out of the large window at the front of the Old Barrel on that Monday evening. I was waiting on Kim and Cheryl to show up for our usual daily chat. Kim came in first, in a rush as always, her right hand flapping around while her left clutched at an empty paper cup of coffee. 

“Why do I always carry these stupid things around with me?” She asked as she came in, kissed my right cheek, then sat down. She put the cup on the table. Her bag slid down to the floor with a loud thunk and she rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure how much more of this being a student I can take.” 

“Why not?” I asked with a soft laugh at her dramatic entry. It was all for attention, and I knew it. 

“It’s so tiring, walking around all day, going from class to class. I’d rather sit at home and do the work on my computer at home than this. If I wanted daily exercise, I’d join a gym.” She brushed her long brown hair out of her face, and I noted she’d taken the time to put a full face of makeup on. She’d never go out without it. 

“Then switch to online classes, it’s not that hard.” I’d done quite a few articles on the subject and knew she could easily get into the classes. That wasn’t what Kim wanted though, she wanted the assurance that it was worth it so that she could have social interaction. That’s what she really needed. “But we both know you’d get bored with that within a week and want to switch back.” 

“I know, ignore me. It’s just been a long day. From your face I can tell you’ve had the same kind of day. No luck finding a girl yet?” Kim asked just as Cheryl came in quietly, ordered a coffee at the bar, then came to sit with us. 

I could smell the perfume of Cheryl’s shampoo as she leaned in next to me to mimic a kiss that never quite reached my face, before she did the same. She always smelled so nice and her fragrant blond hair was one the keys to that. I loved how she smelled, like orange blossoms and cinnamon, and felt myself calm down just from her being there. 

“No, but I still have time. I’m hooking everyone in right now, they’re just as anxious as I am for me to find a girl to interview and it’s turning into a game, almost. People are talking, and that’s a good thing.” I smiled at my friends and sipped at the large mocha latte I’d ordered when I first came in. It had cooled but it was still nice. 

“That sounds like a plan.” Cheryl nodded and paid the bartender that brought her regular coffee with milk and two sugars on the side. She added the sugar and stirred the coffee before she spoke again. “I guess you’re getting anxious about it?” 

“Yes, but what else can I do? You guys suggested it and I can’t let the idea go now.” 

“I’m glad you’ve taken such an interest in it.” Kim gave me one of her mysterious smiles and a wink. “I’m curious to see what you find out.” 

“I bet you are.” I muttered and gave her a playful glare. “You just want to know the juicy secrets for yourself.” 

“I am curious,” she admitted with a nod. “It’s the most exciting thing happening on the campus at the moment.” 

“Really?” I tilted my head, wondering what she meant. 

“I’ve heard a lot of people talking about it in class, and in the hallways. It’s definitely generating opinions at least.” Kim pulled her lip between her teeth and then grinned. “A few people have even asked me if you’ve found anyone yet, since they know we’re friends.” 

“Sorry. I don’t want you two to get negative attention.” I ducked my head down, a little ashamed that I’d caused a problem.

“Not at all,” Kim waved her hand dismissively, “I think it’s hilarious, actually.” 

“You do?” I frowned, confused now.

“Yes, but I’m not shy, like you.” She winked and got up to go order a drink.

“It’s not bad really, the attention.” Cheryl said quietly from my side. “People have asked me about the article too.” 

“Have they?” I looked at her, trying to make sure she really was alright with the attention. 

“Yes, they have. I know it was all a joke to begin with, but I think you’ve really sparked people’s imagination with just a hint of what you want to do.” Cheryl smiled, pleased with how it had turned out for me. “I’ve heard the paper is selling more, I’ve seen it all over the place too.” 

“It is, which is good because everybody there wants to kill me right now.” I frowned again before I looked back up at her. “I didn’t realize how competitive they all were, how…mean they were.” 

“That dickhead Carter running his mouth again?” Cheryl didn’t say words like dickhead often, so the fact that she used it for Carter told me she didn’t like him any more than I did. 

“Always. But it’s all whispers, isn’t it? Words said just a little too loudly about ‘slutty journalism’, things like that. He won’t say it to my face, but he knows I hear him.” 

“He’s a coward. Don’t worry about him. He’ll end up teaching English in some high school while you’ll be on the frontlines writing about important things.” 

“Like the sex lives of college students?” I joked and we both laughed together as Kim came back to join in. 

“I know we’re supposed to be exploring the world and that this is the one time in our lives we’re allowed to make mistakes, but don’t either of you find it stifling? Why only now?” She asked as she sat down. “Why do we have to be adults after this?” 

“Because that’s how it goes, Kim.” I answered but looked down at my phone when it buzzed to life. 

My eyebrows furrowed as I saw ‘unknown’ on the ID for the message I’d just received. Probably another crank message, or yet another pervert wanting to know if I had naked pictures of girls with other girls yet. I frowned and turned my phone over but it buzzed again. Then again.

“Who is this asshole?” I muttered and picked up the phone just as the bartender brought Kim her drink and added another mocha latte beside it for me. I smiled a thank you at the bartender and looked down at my phone.

“Heard you’re having a hard time finding a girl to interview for your article.”

That was the first message. 

“Okay, Captain Obvious, do you know a girl or are you the girl that could be who I’m looking for?” I sent back to the unknown texter; my right eyebrow quirked in irritation. 

“No, I’m a dude, but I know someone you could talk to.” This message was accompanied with a wink. 

My heart skipped a beat, had I found her at last?

“Alright, who is it then?” I quickly typed back then hit send. I wasn’t expecting the answer that came with his next reply. 

“You.”