Sweetest Taboo

Enjoying a summer vacation always came with the thrill of reuniting with friends, especially those who attended different schools. It was the perfect opportunity to spend three whole months catching up, sharing stories, and making unforgettable memories.

Walking through the vibrant streets of the city, I couldn't help but notice that many restaurants were bustling with activity. College students were frequent visitors during the summer, taking the chance to meet up and showcase their school experiences.

However, on that particular day, my visit to a restaurant had a different purpose. I stepped into the establishment, juggling three shopping bags, with the bustling ambiance of the place enveloping me. Navigating my way through the maze of tables, I inched closer to my destination. The soft strains of Giveon's "Heartbreak Anniversary" flowed through my Bluetooth earpod, instantly setting the mood, and I couldn't resist swaying to its rhythm.

Upon identifying our designated table, I made my way over to my dearest friend, Helen. Her face radiated with happiness as she noticed my approach. Adjusting her stylish gold-rimmed glasses, she welcomed me with a warm, inviting smile and beckoned me closer.

Helen was a remarkable presence, standing tall at 5'8", her svelte yet curvaceous figure drawing admiring glances wherever she went. Her verdant eyes, hidden behind her glasses, possessed a captivating depth. Her heart-shaped chestnut lips perpetually held the most enchanting smile, and her glossy, ebony, curly locks completed the portrait of her distinctive and exquisite beauty.

In contrast, I had shoulder-length auburn hair with a natural dark-red hue. Many remarked that my hazel eyes complemented my hair perfectly. Unlike Helen's curly locks, my hair had a natural wave along the edges.

Our differences weren't limited to appearances; Helen had a tall, slender frame, while I stood at a modest 5'4". Her curly hair was a stark contrast to my wavy locks, and she boasted a beautiful dark complexion compared to my lighter skin. However, these disparities did nothing to hinder our close friendship, a bond that had endured since our days in junior high.

I reached our table, pulled out a chair, and seated myself, unintentionally creating a screeching noise that drew disapproving glances from nearby diners. If glares had the power to maim, I might not have survived that moment. I quickly quieted my seat, placing the three white shopping bags on my lap, my excitement barely contained.

Helen spoke to me, but the bass thumping in my earpods made it impossible to hear her words. I watched her lips move, her hand gesturing in the air, and noticed her growing frustration. With a grin, I finally removed my earpods, granting her the attention she sought. "Were you talking to me?" I teased.

She rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her coke. Her red lipstick remained impeccable, thanks to the straw she used. I, too, chose a straw to avoid smudging my own lipstick. Helen's raised eyebrow hinted at her curiosity.

"What's the deal with the bags?" Helen inquired.

I cleared my throat, mindful of the gazes around us, and started, "Well, I wanted to get your input before we leave the mall. The saleswoman at the boutique said I could return the items I don't like." From one of the bags, I pulled out a nylon-wrapped package containing some clothes.

Helen rolled her eyes and appeared uneasy, glancing around nervously. "Don't do this here," she whispered, her smile not quite matching her now-rosy cheeks.

I couldn't help but question, "Why not? I really value your opinion." Unfurling the noisy bag, I inadvertently drew more unwanted attention to our table.

Amidst the curious glances from onlookers, Helen whispered a brief apology and offered a warm smile. As she turned her attention back to me, I had already laid out a red lace thong and its matching bra on the table, showcasing them for her inspection.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and I couldn't help but find amusement in her reaction. "What do you think of this color? Sexy enough?" I asked, examining the brand-new lingerie set.

Helen swiftly snatched the undergarments from my hand, placing them between her legs, which prompted both of us to burst into laughter. Her face was a picture of priceless shock. "This isn't funny," she protested, her cheeks tinged with embarrassment.

"Oh, come on, everyone here is wearing them," I pointed out, gesturing around the restaurant. "And we both know how important this is." With that, I extracted another pair, being cautious to unwrap it discreetly to avoid any further commotion.

Helen's smile gradually faded as she surveyed the restaurant. Her reputation was of utmost importance to her, especially considering her status as a celebrated author whose book had garnered immense popularity, both at the national level and on social media. In fact, a well-known entertainment company had expressed a keen interest in adapting her story into a television series.

"Dora! I swear to God–" she began, her tone edged with exasperation, and she signaled a waiter with an impatient snap of her fingers.

"Yes, ma'am," the waiter responded promptly, although not quite promptly enough to avoid being taken aback when I held up a black lace thong and its matching bra for Helen to see.

The waiter appeared flustered, his eyes darting around the room. "It's quite lovely, miss, but I would suggest we maintain a little more decorum–"

"Thanks," I intervened, gently halting the waiter's well-intentioned but unsolicited advice.

"I can't stand this," Helen grumbled quietly to herself, her frustration plain on her face. She then turned her attention to me, her exasperation showing. "Make your food order, or I'm walking out this instant!" she declared, and once more, all eyes were drawn to our table, the center of attention.

"I think–" The waiter hesitated and cleared his throat. "I'll return later, perhaps," he stammered before making a hasty exit, leaving me with a sense of disapproval lingering in the air.

"Come on, dear," I pleaded with a pout as I carefully stowed the clothes back into the bag. "You're not making this any easier."

Helen's irritation was evident as she snapped back, "I am helping! I'm starting to believe you actually dislike me!" She gritted her teeth, leaning in closer. "This, this kind of behavior can undermine my image. Dorathy, I'm a writer, a public figure, and I'm about to be interviewed for my new book. You might not understand, but everything isn't always a joke. How do you want people to perceive me when they witness such a spectacle with my best friend?"

I squinted my eyes, contemplating for a brief moment before stating, "All right, this is the very last one." My hand reached into the bag and retrieved the last set of undergarments. "I swear."

Helen couldn't restrain an expletive, hastily grabbing her drink and taking a substantial sip. Despite my audacious nature, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for my dear friend, who was blessed (or burdened) with a companion as unconventional as me.

In my hand, I displayed a resplendent golden thong, accompanied by its matching golden bra. Both pieces struck me as quite alluring, but I sought Helen's opinion, aware of her impeccable taste.

I opted for a tried-and-true tactic, wearing a pout that had consistently proven effective in the past. "Please," I began, using my puppy-dog eyes to my advantage, hoping to influence her decision.

With an exasperated sigh, Helen ultimately yielded. "Fine..." she relented. "...I do like that one, but believe me, he probably won't even notice."

Baffled by her response, I retorted, "Why not? Men typically appreciate these little details." I held my head high, ready to defend my selection with conviction. However, Helen's unexpected reaction left me taken aback.

"Oh. My. God." Her eyes widened to the size of saucers, and she leaned in closer to me, whispering in a manner that had me straining to catch her words. Her uneasiness was evident, and her gaze kept darting behind me, a clear sign that a striking gentleman had likely just entered the restaurant – a scenario we frequently found ourselves in.

"What's the matter?" I asked, genuine concern in my eyes. "Is there something wrong with my hair?" She anxiously ran her fingers through her curls, seeking reassurance.

I quickly appraised her hairstyle and then refocused on her face. "Is he irresistibly handsome?" I teased, my fingers gently reaching for her lips to remove a smudge of lipstick from her lower lip.

"Absolutely! Don't peek," her expression practically screamed, as if warning me, "Look less appealing, this one's mine!"

I subtly urged her to smile, and she complied. However, her smile quickly faded when she noticed I was still clutching the lingerie in my hand.

"Conceal that thing," she attempted to snatch the garments away, but I misinterpreted her intent and pulled my hand back reflexively. Regrettably, her attempt to grab the golden thong was unsuccessful, and I was left holding just the matching bra.

What followed were audible gasps from the surrounding diners. Judging by Helen's reaction, I had accidentally tossed the thong onto someone's meal.

"What's going on?" I inquired, even though it would have been as simple as turning around to see for myself. But for some reason, I couldn't muster the courage to do so just yet.

Helen took a deep breath and then blinked. I knew I couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. My heart began to pound with apprehension as I slowly turned around to confront the mess I had unwittingly created.

My eyes locked onto a pair of Chelsea boots. It was evident that there was a man standing behind me. As I gradually lifted my gaze, I noticed his fitted black jeans, which perfectly outlined his muscular thighs. A lump formed in my throat.

My attention shifted to his belt, and I swallowed audibly.

The sight of his slim-fitting black turtleneck left me breathless.

But when I finally met his face, I knew I was in trouble.

My golden thong was positioned across his face, running from the bridge of his nose down to his lips. I could have marveled at his appearance, but instead, I had inadvertently adorned a stranger's face with a golden thong.

In my haste, I stood up abruptly, causing the chair to tumble over with a resounding thud. Remarkably, the noise hardly registered with the other diners, as their attention was firmly fixed on the chaotic scene I had created.

The man loomed over my petite figure, his hands buried deep in his pockets, and his gaze bore down on me.

My mouth opened and closed, but no words emerged. After a moment, I summoned the courage to speak.

"That should have been mine," I blurted out, not failing to notice the groan that escaped Helen. I, too, felt a sense of disappointment because I knew that an apology was the only appropriate response.

In moments of intense stress, my brain often takes a brief hiatus. So, rather than verbalize my apology, I decided to take action. I moved closer to him, intending to relieve him of the embarrassment, but he beat me to it.

His hand slowly moved to his face and delicately removed the thong. My eyes trailed along with his hand as he held it and ran his fingers over the material, almost as if he was trying to assess its size. I felt utterly mortified. "I-" I was on the brink of uttering my apology when he preempted me, gently pressing his forefinger against my lips, effectively silencing me.

"Name?" the man inquired.

I swallowed nervously. "Dora, Dorathy Cam–"

"Dorathy will suffice," he interrupted.

I nodded, agreeing as if it were a question. Anxious to hear what he had in store for me, I waited while he checked something on his phone. The silence in the room was akin to the eerie quiet of a graveyard, a chilling reminder of how many perceived me – as if I belonged in the grave.

"Golden," he enunciated, altering his accent in a way that I might have found endearing under different circumstances. However, my thoughts were far from that. His voice seemed to ooze with a peculiar charm, and it was apparent that he was about to deliver some sort of judgment that would not bode well for me.

"Sir, I've already apologized," I began, but my words trailed off as my gaze locked onto his. It occurred to me that I had never really paid attention to his eyes before. They were a unique shade of silvery glimmer, possessing a certain gravitas that commanded respect.

"Bow," someone murmured beside me, and a hand began to creep onto my shoulder.

"What?" I whispered back, initially failing to grasp Helen's meaning. She didn't wait for me to fully comprehend her words. Instead, she abruptly pressed her hand against the back of my head and gently urged me to lower myself.

Reluctantly, we both complied and bowed before the intimidating gentleman. Our heads were lowered, and our eyes fixed on his shoes.

"Bowing is a powerful way to express your regret," Helen whispered to me as we both remained in a humbled posture in front of this imposing figure.

"What?"

"Are we really doing this?" I questioned skeptically, prompting an eye roll from Helen. She then cleared her throat, preparing to speak.

"Sir, we apologize–" Helen had begun her apology, but her words came to an abrupt halt as the man's Chelsea boots screeched against the floor, and before we knew it, he was making a swift exit.

I straightened up and watched him from behind, my eyes reflecting a mix of confusion and surprise, as the last thing I expected was for him to simply walk away without a word.

"Hey... it seems like it worked," Helen cheered, punctuating her statement with a playful jab to my shoulder. She was referring to the act of bowing we had just performed. "I always knew that watching Korean dramas would come in handy."

"The thong," I whispered as I kept my eyes fixed on the man's departure. "He's got my thong." I gestured toward his right hand, which held my lingerie.

We both watched in silence, and just before he exited the establishment, he nonchalantly tucked the thong into his jeans pocket. I wasn't the only one in disbelief; everyone seemed frozen, their eyes glued to the enigmatic figure making his way out.

There was something undeniably unsettling about him, and my suspicions were confirmed when I observed two more men joining him. The three of them walked toward a sleek black Range Rover Sport waiting at the driveway.

"Is this the end for me?" I pondered with a shiver of uncertainty.

"Yes, the inferno is upon us. All malevolent forces have emerged."

The uproar from downstairs, replete with agonizing screams and the disconcerting sound of vases and glassware shattering, could have roused the dead from their slumber. I had no doubt that the delicate flowers I had diligently nurtured each day had become unfortunate casualties in this tumultuous maelstrom.

With a profound sigh, I stood amidst the chaos. My backpack, thoughtfully packed with just enough clothing to sustain me during my impending absence from home, was ready for the journey. I conducted a final scan of my room, a swift inventory to ensure that I had not overlooked any indispensable items. All appeared to be in order.

The plan was uncomplicated: I would execute my getaway through the window. The constant turmoil of my parents' ceaseless quarrels, the reckless flinging of dangerous objects, and the venomous exchange of words had reached a point of unbearable intensity. The voices of my parents, tainted by anger and loathing, reverberated in my ears like an unending tempest.

Within our estate, their residence had gained a notorious reputation-a dwelling that neighbors would point at with accusatory fingers. It had become an inferno, a location where the fiery disputes between my parents never seemed to subside.

They were so indifferent to their own standing that they chose to address their conflicts through violent means. I had wished countless times to vanish from their lives, believing that without me, they might finally find a way to reconcile and search for me together.

Their affection for me was boundless, yet their disdain for each other was equally profound. Or perhaps it wasn't. When I turned sixteen, everything altered; it was as if some malevolent force had emerged from the depths of hell and taken residence within their souls.

With careful precision, I executed a daring leap through the window that had served as my designated escape route. My backpack hung securely from my shoulder as I traversed the garden, making every effort to move in absolute silence and not alert Roger, the sentry who guarded our door, as well as our cherished canine companion.

I adjusted my hoodie to obscure my disheveled hair, perhaps to conceal the shame that was gnawing at me.

Opposite our residence, there was another residential building. The upper-floor balcony of that building provided an unobstructed view of our house. Three individuals were positioned on the balcony, peering intently in our direction, taking notes on what they could later use as gossip throughout the week. Meanwhile, others in the vicinity were preoccupied with walking their dogs around their respective properties. It was abundantly clear that they were making a concerted effort to eavesdrop and glean information from our affairs.

I cast one last glance over my shoulder at our home before making my decision to depart. In the distance, I could hear Roger, our faithful dog, emitting silent, mournful sounds. It seemed like even he longed for a chance to escape.

I had no intention of taking my car; after all, I was in the midst of a hasty getaway, and using it would only draw attention. My destination was Helen's place, and I needed to get there promptly before my dinner date arrived, so I had to secure a taxi.

Surprisingly, I managed to hail one on the spot, a rare sight in our neighborhood. Usually, I would have to use a ride-hailing app to summon one, but now I found myself comfortably settled in the back seat of a taxi, feeling somewhat out of place.

I provided the driver with my intended destination and then shifted my attention to the scenery passing by outside the car window.

My initial intention was to contemplate my parents and the concerns I had for them, but a distracting aroma within the vehicle captured my senses. The cologne the driver was wearing exuded an unmistakable scent reminiscent of the ocean or a beach, which instantly rekindled my fondness for coastal landscapes and left me yearning for a seaside excursion. The fragrance was a delightful combination of citrus and seaweed, presenting a distinctive aroma that exuded masculinity. I couldn't help but offer the driver a faint smile before refocusing on the view outside the window. It was as if that cologne had the power to transport one to a heavenly realm and back.

Throughout the entire journey, the driver and I maintained a silence that persisted until we departed the suburban neighborhood. After approximately twenty minutes, we arrived at Helen's residence. I settled my fare and expressed my gratitude to the driver before making my way towards the front entrance.

As the door swung open, Britney, Helen's younger sister, greeted me with a beaming smile. I affectionately bent down and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead before making my way up the stairs to Helen's bedroom.

I knew Helen's house like the back of my hand, feeling like a part of their family, and I couldn't help but wish that my own family could experience the same level of happiness.

Upon entering her room, I discovered Helen seated on her bed, a laptop resting on her lap while she had headphones in place. As she caught sight of my unexpected arrival, she swiftly removed her headphones and hopped off the bed, an expression of surprise etched across her features.

"Oh no, not again?" Helen carefully assessed my appearance, noticing the bags in my hands.

"Yep," I sighed, surrendering to exhaustion and flopping onto her bed, my gaze fixated on the ceiling.

Helen joined me, sitting down beside me. "Why didn't you call me? I could have come over to pick you up."

"They might have noticed if you did. But this time, I want you to tell them I'm not here."

"Hm," she huffed with a hint of skepticism. "They most likely know you're here." She gave my back a comforting rub.

"I just wish I could disappear, you know? Go missing for more than a week so it would finally sink in for them that I'm gone, and they've lost me."

Helen chuckled and reclined beside me, her hands interlocked behind her head, while I lay with my hands on either side of my buttocks.

"Unless you plan on eloping with Kyle, there's nowhere you can run, sweetheart. Besides, you're not leaving my sight, at least not anytime soon!" Helen teased.

I rolled my eyes and let out a playful groan. "Well, it's a good thing I've got you, because now... we can get down to business." I sat up and playfully slapped her exposed belly.

"On the other hand, it's quite convenient that your parents had a fight today. You won't have to explain why you're spending the night away," I mused. Helen had a point – their argument gave me the perfect excuse for my night with Kyle.

I let out a groan and covered my face. "Oh gosh, I'm still so nervous. I don't know how it's going to be."

Helen sat up abruptly. "Should we have a refresher course on kissing?" She suggested with a mischievous smile.

I rolled my eyes once more. "No, my lips need to be fresh and untouched today. Only he can kiss them," I replied, feeling my cheeks flush. "Am I really ready for this?"

Helen grinned and lightly punched my shoulder before putting her arms around me. "Absolutely! Kissing isn't the hard part. The real challenge is when his... you know, penetrates your... well, you get the idea, your tiny Vagina!"

"Hush," I whispered, playfully covering her mouth with my hand. "You're making it sound like you're writing one of your steamy chapters."

We both shared a laugh and settled back onto the bed.

Helen wasn't a virgin; she had lost her virginity on her 18th birthday. Even though we were born just a month apart, we celebrated our birthdays on the same day, her chosen day for both of us.