"Tell me you at least gave him a blowjob," Emma says.
Portia shakes her head, "He said he wanted to take me out and treat me like a goddess."
"He'd change his mind if he knew you were underage."
"He doesn't have to know," Portia says, "I'm going to call him today."
"So soon? You'll look desperate."
"I don't care," Portia shrugs, "Anyway, I think he's different from other guys. He's not a college student, he has his own business. And he's so hot, Em. He has the most intense eyes..." Portia trails off, getting dreaming as she thinks about him, about kissing him again.
Rainier gets positively giddy at the sound of her voice, and he doesn't bother trying to hide his pleasure in her call.
"I thought if you weren't busy tonight, we could out," she suggests.
He scraps his plans to work late into the night and tells her he's completely free. "What time can I pick you up?" he asks.
She hesitates, then says, "Let's meet up there, okay? At the Santa Monica Pier, around seven?"
Rainier agrees to meet her, telling himself she's just nervous about being picked up at her home by a man she just met a club. But the evasiveness in her tone reminds him of a woman he'd loved who had cheated on him and the lies she'd tell to cover her affair, and of a man he'd dated who had a wife he'd kept hidden from him. He stares at his phone for a moment, as though he expects it to divulge her secrets, then shrugs it off. He's being foolish to suspect her, he thinks.
"You look lovely," he greets her as they meet on the pier, "More than that," he corrects himself, "You are absolutely breathtaking." Even that doesn't do her justice, he thinks, she's like the sun itself, radiant, almost too much to look at, yet he can't look away.
"You too," she says, then blushes, "I mean..." she doesn't know what she means, or why she's so awkward around him. You're better than this, she reprimands herself the way her mother would, say something witty or charming, don't just stand there smiling. But the normally glib Portia finds herself wordless under the his bright blue gaze. "Skeeball?" she manages to squeak, gesturing at the games nearest at hand.
When his attention is turned to the game, Portia's social grace returns and she's able to chat about inconsequential things like their musical tastes and favorite foods.
As the sky darkens and the neon lights up, they go out to the end of the pier to watch the sun sink into the Pacific.
"You've told me a lot about yourself tonight," Rainier says, embracing her, "But I don't know your last name, or how old you are..."
"Art--Archer. Portia Archer," she says, wishing she'd come up with a name before he'd asked. Maybe there would be no harm in him knowing her real last name, but if he knew it, he could easily use it to discover her real age. "I'm 21," she says. If she's going to lie about her age, she might as well make herself drinking age while she's at it. It's what her fake ID says, after all. "How old are you?" she asks, turning the question around.
"I'm 26, chère," he answers.
"Wow, that's like, almost 30," she blurts before she can stop herself. Since she and Emma turned 16, they'd targeted mostly college guys for their attentions, and the occasional encounter with older men at nightclubs for fun. But this, actually dating a man nearly ten years older than her...it's a little scary, Portia thinks, but also very exciting.
He laughs gently and kisses her cheek, "Not quite," he says.
"Let's go back to your place," Portia suggests.
"So soon?" he asks, coming in front of her for a kiss, "It's still early. We could do dancing, have a few drinks..."
It's early, but Portia has an agenda she wants to complete before she runs against her curfew. "I don't want to dance," she says, "I want you."
Rainier has had his share of very forward, sexually demanding partners, but something about Portia's rush toward his bed bothers him.
His own desires make it easy for him to push his concerns aside and take her back to his place.
"Your phone," he murmurs, feeling the vibration from her pocket against his thigh.
Portia sighs heavily when she sees who the caller is. Her father would pick this moment to pester her. "What?" she asks harshly as she picks up.
"Your mother isn't here," he says, "I need to know the name of the place where we get that salad. You know, the one I like..."
"Did you try looking in the drawer with the menus? Next to the fridge?" Portia fumes, deciding her father is functionally retarded.
"Thank you, sweetheart," Bill says brightly, "Be home before 2."
"Who was that?" Rainier asks, remembering her evasive tone when he'd asked to pick her up.
"Oh, just...just a roommate. I share an apartment with some other students," Portia says, letting the lies pile up.
There's the evasive tone again, and Rainier suspects the 'roommate' might be a lover. But having competition for a woman's love has never deterred him before, and it's certainly not going to keep him from Portia.
"You haven't shown me your bedroom yet," she purrs suggestively.
Let it be him, Portia thinks as she lays down beneath him, let it be tonight. Portia lost her virginity over a year ago, and has had sex with a variety of partners since, but she's never gotten from it what her friend Emma has. It hasn't been bad, but it also hasn't been particularly good. Undaunted, Portia keeps trying. It's the only way she'll ever discover what he big deal is, why everyone seems to want it so much. She closes her eyes, lays back, waiting for it.
Portia opens her eyes when Rainier stops suddenly and lays by her side.
"This is your first time?" he asks, doubt in his voice.
"No, of course not," Portia says, "Why would you say that?"
"Chère, you're all tensed up, like you're bracing yourself for an invasion," he says, "Don't be embarrassed. If you aren't comfortable, we don't have to do this."
"But I do want this," Portia says, "I want you."
"Mmm, your body says otherwise," Rainier says.
"I'm just nervous," Portia says, "Please, don't stop."
Rainier leans toward her, kisses her neck, her breasts, "When I was 19," he says, speaking to her between kisses, "I had a lover, an older woman. Much older. She told me that most young men are terrible lovers, selfish oafs who take what they want and give nothing to their partners. She said she wasted too many years enduring mediocre sex until she learned to get what she wanted from it."
"How did she learn that?" Portia asks, wanting that information mare than anything.
"She didn't say," Rainier says, "I only know what she taught me about making love to a woman."
"Show me," Portia demands.
Rainier lifts her up so they sit face to face, "It's like a dance, ch ère, you have to move with your partner. And don't be afraid to take the lead. You move, and I'll move with you."
"Like this?" Portia asks, leaning close, caressing his cheek as her lips meets his. His lips respond to her, parting for her as she sends her tongue in to find his. It becomes a game; she touches him, kisses him, and he responds in kind.
He holds her as she sits astride him, guides her with his hands as she takes him inside her. She gasps, surprised at her own pleasure. She gets it, now.
When she thinks she finally understands what it's all about and that it can't possibly get any better, he lays her down beneath him and shows her how much more he has to give.
"I want this to never end," Portia sighs, holding on for one more kiss, "But I have to go."
"Stay with me," Rainier says, "Your roommates don't need you like I do."
Portia glances at the clock on his bedside table; she's coming dangerously close to breaking the very liberal curfew her parents have set for her.
"I can't," she says, making herself pull away from him.
He follows her to his door, "I can't convince you to stay? What do you have there that I can't give you?" If her 'roommate' is actually a lover, after tonight, Rainier is more than sure he can take her from him.
"I just...have things I need to do early tomorrow. It's best if I go home." She kisses him one last time before rushing out his door, regretting all he lies she's had to tell. But if he knew the truth, tonight would never have happened, she tells herself, and tonight was worth every lie.
She's lying about something, Rainier can't deny it to himself any longer. Maybe it's just another lover, maybe she's married, though it seems unlikely. Whatever it is, he has to get to the bottom of it. If she won't tell him herself, there are other ways to find out.
Yes, I did age Portia up to YA for this chapter. Sim age stages are very clearly defined and transition sharply from one stage to the next. In real life, we age gradually and physical and mental maturity come at different rates for each of us as individuals. Portia (and her friend Emma) are written as 17 year olds, getting close to 18, who can pass as older, and keeping them in the Sim teen stage which is visually obviously not adult just wasn't working for the story.
Also, squick factor played a huge part in my decision, as well as the legal issues involved in publishing pictures of even cartoon teens in these kinds of situations. Hollywood uses young adult actors to play teens for a reason, and I'm going with that example.
I hope the change from the last chapter Portia was in to this one isn't too jarring. But it had to be done.