When it first began

When I first began to sleep around the guilt never hit me. My first was a boy I’d crushed on. Lusted for, for months, but felt I never had a chance with. He slipped his fingers around my wrist in the dark corner of a grubby club, he leaned in and took my mouth. That kiss opened up my mind to the possibility of playing away. Fooling around and becoming the kind of girl that your mother warned you about. That stray kiss lingered hard, it hit me with an electricity that rattled around my feet and zipped up my calves to my thighs. “About time” I said and then we went to bed together.