The first time I lost my virginity was awful. I won’t go into it other than to say that I was more than happy to do it over.
The second time was decidedly more toe-curling.
It’s not as great as it sounds, a second virginity. Or maybe it’s just as miserable as it sounds. The actual act of losing it the second time was too-long anticipated. I’m afraid no matter how amazing it could have been I’d still have found it lacking. My second time was nearly as doomed as my first.
The second time I lost my virginity came after careful planning. It involved seductions of every sense. I worked long and hard to make things right. And things were.
I was seventeen.
Marlee was twenty-four. She’d been my babysitter when I was a grade-schooler. That’s when my planning began. I was nine when I decided she’d be my second First.
It’s not as lurid as it seems. Or maybe it is. But let me explain.
I was no ordinary nine-year-old lusting after his babysitter.
I was a thirty-year-old man inside a nine-year-old body. Thirty-nine, actually, counting the years I’d lived in my second body.
You see, there was an accident in my lab.
It was the typical, “turn you into a superhero explosion of time-loose anti-matter”, that should have changed me into some amazingly handsome do-gooder with tremendous temporal powers. But that’s not what happened.
What happened was that my mind came free from my body.
I watched the effects of the explosion from a vantage high above my crumpling form. The lab roiled with fire and anti-matter. People and equipment were torn apart by the blast. I saw the bodies of two assistants and Dr. Winters’ crumple like mine. I sensed their minds beside me.
Then I shot through space, fast as light.
I flew through the earth, came out the other side of the globe, circled the planet, and slammed into the body of a developing baby in the womb of a young woman from Belleville, Illinois.
I was stuck there.
I had to call the woman “Mom”. Her name was Judy LeBraun. Her husband was Larry. They named me Hank. Hank.
I have all the memories and wisdom from my first life. I put my skills to use as soon as my tiny body would allow. Once those little vocal chords could do it, I started talking. When I figured out how to make my appendages useful, I started writing and working out mathematical problems that I’d been working on before.
This, of course, made me stand-out from the rest of the toddling crowd. I was deemed a super-genius.
My second childhood was much different from my first. My parents moved us to Boston when I was three, so we could live near my “special school”. I was doted on, tested, and studied. I was paid for my time. At least Judy and Larry were. But they were generous. I graduated from high school at the age of five and took a few years off to see the world.
You have to imagine what it’s been like for me. As an infant I was aware of my adulthood. I spent my earliest years trying to gain a place for myself in the world that was at least a shadow of what I’d had.
I had no peers. Not a single friend. No video games, personal computers, or Star Trek. I couldn’t drive. I couldn’t do any of the things I really, really wanted to do.
It was on my mind constantly. Especially once I began doing the rest of the things I’d done in my first life. I am a man, and I have been since I was born. Sex has been on my mind. Hell, I couldn’t breast feed. It was just too much.
I began planning our lovemaking soon after Marlee and I met.
It took years””long, frustrating years””but I knew it would, and she was my best prospect. I started college when I was eight. I hadn’t a chance with the ladies.
At seventeen, I was going to lose it, one way or another.
There was a party at the Sheraton Commander Hotel in Harvard Square, to celebrate my completion of MIT’s Doctorate Program in Physics. It was quite a shin-dig. I was the youngest person to graduate from the program, and it made me a bit of a big deal. A lot of important people attended. The most important to me was Marlee.
At the climax of the revelry, when I was supposed to be speaking, I stole her away.
I had my own room listed under a fake name.
She tried to object.
She told me I was too young. But I’d worked my wiles on her for too long by then, and the memories of my childhood she tried to place before the lust in my teenage eyes worked against her.
Marlee was wonderful. She would have blown my mind had it been my first first time. The Summer of Love made for a sexually free Marlee. I was lucky to have been reborn when I was.
The Summer of Love. 1967. Something I’d only read about.
There was a temporal effect to the accident.
I was born for the second time in 1950″”twenty-two years before the first time I came into the world. Fifty-two years before the explosion.
I’ve already copyrighted scientific processes that hadn’t been postulated in this time before. I’ll solve the problems we ran across in my first life at MIT, and we’ll have hyperspace figured out by the ’80s.
I haven’t seen her since that night. I heard she married a mathematician at Berkley. I think about her often.
Kevin Shamel has only been a virgin once. He worked hard to stop being one, and would never want to go through it again.