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I had my first orgasm when I was fourteen, vulnerable, wanting to feel love from someone even if it was myself. I'd masturbate often, putting on music (usually hard rock), imaging some handsome guy I'd pulled off the street on top of me, grasping my thighs as he worked. But each time my mind would wander and I'd be left unfulfilled once again, my imaginary wanna-be guy dissolving into the darkness of my room. The room my sister and I shared, mind you- I had to keep the entire ordeal secret. The night of my orgasm, I put on one of my favorite CDs, The White Stripes' Elephant. I started out relatively slow, moving my fingers in time to the infectuous baseline of Seven Nation Army. It got me going, let me tell you that. I grabbed my remote and switched to In the Cold, Cold Night, encouraged by Meg White's husky alto. And lo and behold, I came quietly, lying for about ten seconds before propping myself up and grasping my arms. Where was Adora? Why couldn't