It wouldn’t be long now. She knew. She made sure to sit up as much as she could. She tried so, so hard to walk and, with a stick, could make it to the nurse’s station. But, sometimes, she could not even eat solid food and had to be fed on a drip. Two years of sickness had left Ester little more than a bag of skin and bones.

When she was first diagnosed, she’d dreamed of what might have been. Of passionate love affairs on desert islands, or fairytale romances with a sweet boy who moved in next door. But as she grew sicker, she thought less of dreams and only of what could actually be. What books hadn’t she read that she still had time to? What films had she not seen? She tried to sleep as little as possible and spend all her waking time absorbing stories and talking to people, but she needed more and more sleep so that was getting harder.

Her parents came to see her often and they tried to keep her spirits up. But it wasn’t easy. When all you can do is stay in bed, there isn’t that much to talk about.

She’d had a sort-of boyfriend a few years ago at school, so at least she had kissed a boy. They’d been too young to go further though, and the sickness had come, and they hadn’t lasted. And she’d reached the age of womanhood, but her body was in decline, and nothing repels men (or women, of course) like sickness. Underarm hair? Some guys can see past it. Bad breath? Load up on mints and a guy will put up with it if he cares about you. But sickness? No, it kills attraction dead.

She didn’t think about sex much, fortunately. Her body didn’t let her. There was the pain and the medicines and the poor diet. Just occasionally, especially if she saw other people (usually people from other families visiting other patients on the ward) sharing physical affection, she felt something stir, and she imagined that the guy with the leather jacket was kissing her, or the cool, shaven-headed guy visiting his sister was leading her, Ester, away by the hand. But it was a largely dead topic.

Then a girlfriend left her an erotic storybook with a wink. Ester read it and, at first, it just made her sad. But she went to bed and thought on the story and imagined herself as the heroine, imagined the man ravishing her, and briefly felt desire stir in her. She imagined herself healthy and sexy and desirable as she’d only been so briefly in her young life. But when she came back to reality, she wept bitterly at the sight of her wasted body, and that sexual joy had been denied her, and for no crime.

Her dad found her crying and asked her what was wrong. “Nothing,” she’d said. But he’d found the book, left under her sheet when she’d shuffled off to the bathroom and left him alone in the room. He’d put two and two together.

“She’s dying a virgin when she’s old enough to…make love. I’d be upset, and so would you,” said her mum.

“Is there anything we can do?”

“There are…escort services.”

Ester’s dad shook his head. “No…we shouldn’t pay for it. It’s not the same.”

“Then the only thing we can do is try to find someone she likes who will…do the deed,” said her mum.

They both went to bed, unsure if they could, would, or should proceed with the idea.

The next day, her mum sat with her. She held her hand and gently asked

“Ester, have you met any guys you like recently?”

“No, mum. As if.”

“Would you like us to invite some fellas to come and meet you? Perhaps you might like one of them?”

“What are you talking about, mum?”

Her mum told her about their conversation the previous night. She’d told her that both her parents understood completely. She needn’t be embarrassed about normal physical desires. She told Ester that they understood that she had missed out on boyfriends. If she wanted, she could still experience…it.

Ester thought for a long time.

“Suppose I wanted to. Who would want me? Look at me.” She spat these words out.

“Someone with empathy and kindness. Someone who you could make laugh. It’s the best aphrodisiac, you know!” said her mum brightly. Ester was not at all convinced. But that night, she closed her eyes and could think of nothing else. She texted her mum.

“If you can, I’d like to make it happen.”

That night, in bed, her father said to her mum “What about Biel?”

“What about him?”

“Well, they used to live on the same street. He knows Ester pretty well. They’re the same age.”

“He’s gay, isn’t he?”

“I heard he…has had some experience with girls. And she’s comfortable with him.”

“He’d never do it.”

“Not if we just drop it on him. Let’s put them in a room together and see if nature takes its course.”

They sat outside together in the garden of the hospital. Ester was in a wheelchair, but she had been made up nicely, her dirty blonde hair brushed, and make-up applied. Biel wore a tight black t-shirt and dark jeans.

“Biel…do you know why my parents…why we asked you here?”

He could only think to say, “To see you?”

“I have a…dying wish. And I wanted to ask if you would grant it to me.”

“Anything, Ester. If I can do it, it’s yours. Just say the word.”

Her mother watched them from a distance through the window of the hospital café. She watched as Ester leaned closer to Biel, beckoned him to lean closer to her. She was whispering into his ear. She saw his eyes widen, and then he sat back with his arms folded, clearly surprised. Her daughter conferred with the young man some more. Then he got up and slowly walked away, his hands behind his head, obviously deep in thought. It was more than an hour they were out there talking. There were no tears. Just talk.

“Mrs. Brul has agreed that you can make use of her private room. We’ll just wheel her bed out and your bed in,” said the nurse as she adjusted Ester’s meds. “The doctors will unhook you from all this for two hours. But if the pain is too much, if you need anything at all, if you feel more uncomfortable than you can bear, you are both under strict instructions to stop and call for help.”

Ester nodded.

“You’re lucky your parents are understanding. Most parents wouldn’t have fixed this up.”

She nodded again but said, “I am eighteen. It isn’t actually their decision.”

“I know. You know, you’re younger than I was when I lost my…”

The nurse realized she shouldn’t be so confidential.

“Does it hurt?”

“It can, a little, at first. But not much and not for long. And Ester?”

“Yeah?”

“The pain when your hymen breaks…will be nothing compared to the pain you’ll feel if you don’t ever try it. Good for you. We all think so!”

Ester grinned.

The big day dawned. Her mum helped her with her make-up. Biel arrived and took her hand, squeezing it, smiling.

“You can change your mind, eh? Just say.”

She shook her head.

A nurse came to help wheel the bed and Biel helped. Old Mrs. Brul was wheeled past.

“You’s ought to be wed, at least!” she muttered as they passed her, but then Ester saw her turn back with a wink and a grin at her.

The door was closed, and the curtains were pulled. Ester suddenly felt her heart racing. It had just been an idea…now, here it was!

Biel took her hand, and her skin was paper thin. He kissed it, then began kissing her wrist, moving up her arm. She closed her eyes and lay her head back. Biel’s kisses were soft, warm on her skin. When he reached her shoulder, he leaned in and kissed the right side of her neck, then he planted a kiss on her lips. They kissed. Lips only.

“This gown has to come off. Can you help me?” she said matter-of-factly.

“Of course.”

It was open at the back, but for a tied string, but it covered her shoulders. She had to untie the ribbon and then it popped wide open at the back. She wriggled her bottom, so she wasn’t sitting on the gown, then she and Biel reached for her shoulders…but then she stopped him.

“You can stop too, Biel. If it disgusts you, please, you can stop. I’ll understand….”

Tears welled up in her eyes. Biel put a finger to her mouth.

“We’ll undress together, ok?” he asked and pulled off his t-shirt. Topless, Biel was hot. His chest was hairless and firm, his belly flat.

They unhooked the gown off of Ester’s shoulders and pulled it off, revealing her pale, shrunken breasts and belly. Biel looked at her torso. He knew he had to. He knew she’d notice if he showed the slightest revulsion. He put his hand down and caressed her belly, running his fingers over her red surgical scars. One ran down her side. Another scar ran from her ribcage to her tummy, diverting around her belly button. Biel rubbed her flesh, looking into her eyes. Then he kissed her lips softly.

“Hold me!” she cried suddenly, flinging her arms open to him. She longed to feel human contact then, longed to feel living flesh on hers. He took her embrace and held her close, but with her sat up in bed and him by the bedside, it wasn’t easy.

With enormous effort, she scooted over on her bum six inches and made room for him. Biel climbed onto the bed. Then they embraced as if they were lovers separated by decades, and Ester held him as tightly as she could. She breathed in his scent. She pressed her lips to his neck. She rubbed his shoulders and back. She felt his muscular strength pressed against her own weak frame. She clung to him and his aliveness.

At last, she whispered, “We’re not finished. I want to touch you.”

Biel nodded. Then he pulled off his jeans and his boxer shorts and, glancing uneasily at the door, lay next to her. Ester looked at his penis. It wasn’t erect, but it was showing signs of life. She ran her hand over it. It quivered as if it were a dormouse stirring from sleep, and she giggled. “It’s nice,” she said.

“I brought my best one,” he replied, and they laughed.

Ester played with his cock a little, flopping it up and down. Slowly, it came to life.

She clasped it between her two hands and began to shake it up and down.

“Good?”

He nodded, and smiled, and kissed her.

“When you’re ready, I want to touch you,” he whispered.

She acted as if she hadn’t heard him and carried on massaging his penis, which grew strong and hard.

“Ester?”

“Don’t talk. Just let me do this.”

Biel nodded, trying to understand what was in her head, and decided that she was taking control. She was in charge, this poor girl who had lost so much control over her life. She was not ready to cede control of her body to him yet. The minute he had access to her privates, some of that control would pass to him.

Ester gave him a hand job for more than five minutes, then stopped. Wordlessly, she removed the last of her gown, the part covering her privates and lower body. Biel looked down. There was no pretending her genitals were a beautiful sight taken as a single picture, but when he shifted onto his knees, he leant back and saw the whole young woman, he saw in her nakedness and her vulnerability and her courageous dignity a picture of such beauty that a lump came to his throat.

“You’re…beautiful,” he stammered.

“Mum brought some lubricant,” Esther said, and she removed the tube from the pocket of her gown.

Biel covered his fingers in lubricant and began to rub her pussy. Ester closed her eyes, willing her juices to start working again, and she helped Biel’s fingers to enter her. Slowly, he twisted and pressed his fingers inside her, looking to wake her up inside.

How long did he lie next to her, fingering her? He didn’t know. She lay pretty passively for a while, letting him work his digits around her vagina. Slowly, as both exercised tremendous patience, Ester began to warm up a little and she motioned with her hand.

‘Get inside me.’

Biel had brought a condom but immediately regretted showing it to her, as it was so clearly unnecessary. He rubbed her with the tip of his penis and eventually they were able to get him inside her. Ester’s hymen broke and a trickle of blood ran down, and he moved as gently and tenderly as he could inside her.

Five minutes passed, five minutes of slow penetration. Five minutes of Ester trying to imprint the sensation of feeling a man inside her on her memory. Five minutes of her longing for her body to react as it should to what was happening. Five minutes of Biel feeling half excited and half guilty. Half guilty, not because he was doing something he shouldn’t (he had been invited), but because he would get another chance. It didn’t matter if he came because he would come again another day with another lover. For Ester, it was now or never.   

She began to feel good, and with her hands, she rubbed her clitoris as Biel moved inside her. She rubbed his back and his bottom…and she kissed him, deeply. He was being so gentle with her, so understanding. She felt his hand caress her hip, her thigh, her buttock, and all she could think was how glad she was that she had not died a virgin. She was grateful to Biel, to her family, to the hospital, and to herself for overcoming the embarrassing awkwardness of the situation.

She wanted to experience a second position, but it was difficult. A brief attempt at cowgirl ended in failure, as she soon felt dizzy and realized she did not have the requisite energy. She took to her knees, holding the pillow tight, and he entered her. It felt nice, and he was just as gentle as before. Ester felt his penis sliding in and out, in and out, and she was wetter now, and feeling very alive. But try as she might, she could not persuade her organs to gift her an orgasm.

Biel grew more into it, pushing harder. He told her to let him know if he ever hurt her, but she wasn’t in pain and she encouraged him. They switched back to missionary, and Ester enjoyed briefly fondling Biel’s cock before he re-entered her.

“Can I do anything to make you…” Biel asked.

“I don’t think so. Come. I want you to.”

He increased his stroke and she lay back to take it, closing her eyes, feeling the strokes growing firmer and harder, feeling his penis growing larger inside her and then he came, and as he did, he whispered her name into her ear and kissed her on the cheek. It was a kindness she hadn’t expected, and she kissed him for it.

Ester had not had an orgasm, but she considered her first sexual experience a triumph, all circumstances borne in mind. She’d have liked to have been ravished by a muscular hunk who’d swept her off her feet on a desert island…but that had never been an option. She’d gladly have made mad, passionate love with her childhood sweetheart on her wedding night...but it hadn’t worked out like that. She’d had to play with the hand she was dealt, and if Biel was not a royal flush, he was at least not a total bust. And she had entered the game and played it, which was better than never having tried. 

They lay in each other’s arms. They lay together naked, and they felt exposed. They felt naked to death and pain, and they clung to each other against those dread spectres that would knock at the door at any moment.

Late the next morning, Biel left the hospital. And that afternoon, quietly, in her sleep, so did Ester.