Mr. William's Rules

Today is the day I lose my virginity.

I’m Lily Stephens — 26 years old, single, and officially done with the idea of love. After everything I’ve been through, I’ve decided: no boyfriends, no emotional attachments, no strings. My ex taught me well — love doesn’t exist. It’s all about selfish interests.

While my friends boast about their perfect boyfriends, engagements, pregnancies, or romantic getaways, I sit and smile like everything’s fine. But it isn’t. Not really. I’m tired of listening to their stories about candlelight dinners and passionate nights. Even at work, my colleagues gossip about their favorite sex positions like they’re swapping recipes — and I just sit there, the virgin among wolves.

I don’t want love. But I do want sex — just once — and on my own terms.

So tonight, I’m stepping out of the shell everyone thinks I live in. Tonight, the goody-two-shoes Lily is going to a bar — for the first time — to make a memory I’ll either cherish or regret.

The bar pulsed with music and bodies. Lights flashed, people laughed, and the scent of alcohol floated in the air. I stood near the entrance, nerves tangled in my gut. In movies, it all looked easy — a glance across the room, chemistry sparking, and boom — two strangers tangled in a one-night fling.

Reality? Much messier.

I made my way to the counter and ordered a glass of wine — my first ever. I didn’t drink, never smoked, never even touched tobacco. I was raised in a strict family, and tonight was my rebellion.

Just as I settled on the stool, an older, bald man with a massive belly flashed me a yellow-toothed grin.

Gross.

But then I realized — wasn’t this the kind of opportunity I came here for?

So, I smiled back.

He approached and offered to buy me a drink. Trying to seem like I belonged here, I accepted with practiced confidence, channeling every rom-com bar scene I’d ever watched.

One drink became two. Then three. Then more. I lost count. My head swam, vision blurred, words slurred. I laughed too loud and danced in my seat. I knew I had crossed a line, but it was too late to turn back.

What happened next is a blur — a disjointed collage of motion and sound.

I remember being led outside, his arm wrapped around my waist. I sang a tune I barely knew as I stumbled into his car. My eyelids felt heavy, my body uncooperative. When we arrived at some hotel or apartment, I wasn’t sure which, I barely registered being tossed onto the bed.

I thought maybe that was his style. Maybe this was how it worked.

In the dim light, I began undressing myself — unsure, ashamed, but committed. He stood in the shadows, and I heard his deep, annoyed voice:

“What are you doing?”

I tried to focus. “I need you,” I whispered.

What followed was rough. Aggressive. Passionate. Painful.

I didn’t cry, though my body wanted to. I didn’t scream, though my soul did. I held on to him tightly, fingers tangled in his hair — wait.

Hair?

I remember — the bald man didn’t have any hair. None.

Panic rushed in. My hands slid to his chest. Hard. Muscular. He had abs. Who the hell was this man?

Had I gotten into the wrong car?

But it was too late. Whoever he was, he didn’t stop. He didn’t ask. He took what I had willingly offered to someone else — and I let him.

He was a stranger, yet he now carried a piece of me I could never reclaim.

The next morning, pain shot through my body like fire. My head throbbed. My eyes blinked open to find myself in a luxurious room — expensive, cold, unfamiliar.

Blood stained the sheets.

I covered my mouth to stop the sob that threatened to escape. My legs ached. My chest hurt. My heart shattered.

I dressed as quickly as I could, wincing at every movement. I needed to leave before he returned — whoever “he” was.

What if he followed me?

What if he wanted more?

I couldn’t face him. I wouldn’t.

I left. I didn’t look back.

I took three days off work, claiming I was sick — which wasn’t entirely a lie. My body was in pain. But my heart? That was worse.

The shame clawed at me. I told no one. Not even Nany.

When I finally returned to the office, things felt… different.

I headed to my department, where I spotted my best friend, Nany — the only person who truly understood me in this place.

“Nany!” I called.

She turned, eyes lighting up. “You’re finally back! What happened to you?”

I gave her a weak smile. “Got sick. Really bad timing. I informed the office, though.”

She crossed her arms. “I called you at least six times. You didn’t answer.”

“I was out of it,” I said quickly. “Couldn’t move, couldn’t talk. Just… dead.”

Her expression softened. “You missed a storm here.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What happened?”

She leaned in. “Our boss was arrested.”

“What?”

She nodded. “Turns out, he’d been selling company secrets for years. The big boss — you know, the real head — came unannounced on the 23rd. Checked everyone’s desk. He noticed you were gone. Your boss said you were sick. Thirty minutes later, the police came and dragged him out.”

I sat down, stunned. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Now, the big boss is handling things directly from this office.”

“He moved here?”

“Apparently. And from the way things are changing, I’d say it’s serious.”

I nodded, still shaken. “That’s crazy.”

She noticed my silence. “Lily, are you okay?”

I hesitated… then whispered, “I had a one-night stand.”

Nany dropped her pen. “You what?! With who?”

“I don’t know.”

“Lily!”

“I drank too much… blacked out. I only remember parts. It wasn’t the man I thought I was with.”

Her eyes widened. “Did you use protection?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “There was… evidence. But no memory of a condom.”

“Oh my god, what if you’re pregnant?”

“I’ll take care of it if I am. I’m not ready to raise a child — especially not one whose father I don’t know.”

Nany stared at me, horrified. “You’ve always been so careful.”

“I know,” I whispered, biting my lip. “But I just… broke.”

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. Her silence was louder than any scolding.

I sighed, looking out the window. I thought I was taking control that night.

Instead, I lost something I can never get back.