Rachel lost her virginity while vacationing in the Bahamas with her family. This ruined her break from school. She asked her parents and brothers to help look for her property, but they didn’t want the search to get in the way of their swimming and sunbathing time. Rachel also wanted to swim and sunbathe, but her absent-mindedness had ruined everything. While everyone on the islands allowed their bodies to be immersed in liquid or damaged by the sun, she scoured the beaches, wishing she had left her virginity at home. Why had she even bothered to pack it? Even a can opener would have been more useful, plus it would have been easy to replace if she lost it. Ordinarily, virginity is a very useful thing, but not while you’re on vacation, where it is as precious as it is useless.
She was approached by a white dreadlocked twenty-year-old who lived in the Bahamas year-round. “Ya wanna rent a virginity detector?” he asked. Then he frowned, thinking he might have lost the sale due to his failure to speak in a stereotypical manner that matched how tourists thought native islanders spoke.
But Rachel said, “Yes,” and handed over all the money in her wallet without bothering to find out how much the rental cost. The dreadlocked twenty-year-old smiled and gave her the detector, pleased he would not spend the night with a shotgun in his mouth while contemplating what he should do next.
Rachel waved goodbye and the detector beeped faintly after she turned it on. Sunbathers watched as she walked up and down the beach with what they assumed to be a metal detector. They wondered if an eccentric senior citizen had disguised himself as a teenage girl. These thoughts were accompanied by serious inquiries into why elderly men experience euphoria after unearthing a buried penny.
Rachel’s frustration continued all afternoon, accompanied by the faint beeping of the virginity detector. Minutes from dusk, she was so lost in nihilistic thoughts that she didn’t see the forty-two-foot sand castle in front of her. She crashed into it and fell on top of the virginity detector. It beeped loudly at a rapid pace. Rachel tried to determine what the detector was telling her. She realized the device was pressed against her crotch.
Putting her hand into her vagina, she moaned and felt something inside it. She pulled it out, and the makeup that gave her face a tense expression melted down her cheeks. She celebrated by holding her virginity high into the air. But the victory was bittersweet, and she admonished herself for leaving such a precious thing inside such a crass place.
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Bradley Sands is the author of Rico Slade Will Fucking Kill You, Sorry I Ruined Your Orgy, TV Snorted My Brain, and others.
Lead image: “20170320_105027-01” (via Flickr user franck injapan)
I want to live in a 42 foot sandcastle with a pet virginity to keep me company.