CW: It’s not what you think.

“What do you see on the other side of the door when you look through a keyhole?“
– a prompt for this week’s CW piece.
[Source: @DailyPrompt]

 

As a child, I was sheltered.

“It’s for your own good” – my parents used to say.

Or: “You don’t need to know that, yet.”

Back in the day, I did not have a computer, or a phone to look things up on. Books were the only things I could learn from. They were rationed based on my age, and what my parents though was adequate for my level of development.

“I have something to show you” – said Frank one day when we were playing at his house.

“What is it?”

“Come in here” – he said, pulling me into his room, making sure that no one was outside, and closed the door.

“Frank, what’s going on?”

“Shhh! Be quiet. I don’t want my mom to come barging in” – he replied, reaching under his mattress.

He sat on the floor, and I lowered myself to the ground next to him. In his hands he had a newspaper. No. A magazine. Or maybe a comic. I wasn’t sure, as it was rolled up in his hands.

“OK. Ready to have your mind blown?” – he asked and unfolded a Playboy magazine in front of my eyes.

“Gross” – was my first reaction.

“Have you never seen a naked lady before?” – he asked with judgement in his eyes.

“OF COURSE I have” – I said, trying to muster up as much confidence as I could.

“Good. I was worried you were going to run crying to your mommy” – he said, turning onto the next page.

As he browsed through the magazine he said to have gotten from his older brother, I wondered why all these women weren’t ashamed of being seen by random boys.

“What do you think of this one?” – he asked, pointing at the spread featuring a nurse sitting on a chair.

Her uniform was too tight.

So tight that the top button couldn’t hold in her full breasts.

One of her legs was lifted, and resting on a stool, revealing the secrets under her skirt.

“I like it” – I answered.

“You LIKE it?” – Frank asked, clearly offended by my answer.

“Dude, are you homo, or something?” – he asked, leaning away from me.

“No. I’m not” – I couldn’t get those words out fast enough.

“She’s hot. It’s just clear that you like her, so I didn’t want to salivate over your lady” – I answered, looking at him so as to see if it worked.

“Bros before hoes. I like it, man” – he said and high-fived me.

“So have you actually seen it when they do it?” – he asked after putting the Playboy away.

“Do what?” – I asked, in need of a clue.

“You know… It.” – he said, as he formed a circle with his left hand’s thumb and index finger, and then put his right index finger through it.

“Ahhh” – I said as if I knew what he was talking about.

“You have?” – he asked excitedly.

“No, actually, I haven’t” – I said, realizing that he wanted to know more.

“Neither have I, but my brother told me that he hears our parents do it all the time.”

“Hmmm…” – I uttered, wondering what “it” sounded like.

That night I was determined to be enlightened. I was hoping that I would hear the proper noises and finally know everything that my parents kept me from learning.

Unfortunately, that night my parents had an argument and my father went to a bar. I have no idea when he came back, but I must have been long asleep by then.

Staying up late every night, hoping to hear something extraordinary, was starting to take a toll on me. I was tired in the mornings.

“I’ve seen my parents do it last night” – said Frank one morning.

“How was it?” – I asked, hoping that he’d save me some sleepless nights.

“Why don’t you tell me when you finally see for yourself and become a man.”

That was all the motivation I needed.

Two nights later, I heard moans, panting and muted screams coming from my parents’ bedroom. I carefully tiptoed up to their door, and pressed my ears against the door. Pleasure sure sounded a lot like pain.

I looked through the keyhole and saw a huge ball of sheets on the bed. It was whirling around, back and forth. Limbs everywhere.

While I was trying to register every detail so that I could tell Frank the next day, I felt a breeze, and then a poke on the shoulder.

As I turned around slowly, a hand wrapped around my mouth.

“Shhhh” – the man in the mask mimed.

I tried to remain calm, but the butcher knife in his spare hand wasn’t filling me with optimism.

***

P.S. As always, you are more than welcome to use this prompt to inspire your post. If you decide to write something, be sure to pingback to this post, so that I can get an alert and check out your post. (A post on how to do pingbacks can be found here.) If pingbacks are not your thing, feel free to simply leave a link to your piece in the comment section below. The more, the merrier!

Stay golden,

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