"You're going to have a birthday party without me?" Sandy Jackson asked her sister.

"You wouldn't like it anyhow," Barbara said. "It's going to be couples only."

"Mommy!"

When the entire situation was explained by each of them, Barb didn't mention couples. "I'm only inviting kids from my class," she said.

"Well," Mom said, "if you can't have a party where your sister would be welcome, maybe you shouldn't have a party at all."

Barb pouted and argued, but Sandy was invited to the party. Linda, Barb's new best friend, brought her brother to match Sandy. Craig was in high school already, but eighth and ninth grade seemed alike to the eleventh graders.

Sandy wouldn't have admitted it for the world, but she was uncomfortable at the party. The kids were mostly the same as Barb had invited the year before, Linda, Larry, and Craig being new. They held the party in their basement as they had the year before, and there was cake, cookies, and Kool Aid. The behavior, however, was much different -- almost no games. Mostly the kids danced; the record player had a stack of 45s on it all night. The dances were almost all slow ones, and the kids never switched partners.

Craig was nice, a lot nicer than Sandy would have expected considering why he was there. Still, they hadn't met before that night, and all the other couples were either going steady or were as close to that as the parents would allow. She and Craig danced whenever a fast dance came on, but they sat and talked and munched a lot.

"I like the way your sister is wearing her hair now," she said. Linda and Barbara were about the only subjects that she and Craig had in common.

"You do?" Craig asked. Really she did. She wished that she could look like Jackie. "Every girl is wearing her hair like Mrs. Kennedy these days, even one of my teachers. Linda looks more like her than she does like Jackie."

The latest Cameron hit, "Honey Bee," dropped to the bottom of the stack. Sandy liked that song. "Come on," Craig said. "There's nothing to it. Try dancing to this one. I'll have to go soon; I promised Linda."

She couldn't ask him to sit and talk with her forever. She got up and moved out to where there was space. He took her left hand in his right and put his other hand on her waist; she tried to move to his guidance.

"Other bees have buzzed around my hive
But none till you made me feel alive,"
sang Peggy Cameron.

"Honey, I want you to be, be, be
My honey bee,"
sang her sisters.

Slow dancing wasn't suddenly easier, but dancing in Craig's arms was pleasant. When the song ended, Craig asked, "Want to walk me out?"

He went over to say goodbye to Barb. Aside from greeting people and opening presents, she'd spent the evening dancing with Tom. From the top of the stairs, Sandy glanced back. The two were dancing again, and Tom's hand was on Barb's seat.

"Good night, Mrs. Jackson," Craig said in the kitchen. "Nice party. Thanks for having me." Sandy went out the kitchen door with him.

"This really has been fun," he said. "Much more fun than I expected." Those were her thoughts, too. The party would have been awful if he hadn't been there. She was trying to think of some way to say that when he pulled her close.

His kiss surprised her. It wasn't her first, but it was the first which hadn't been part of spin-the-bottle or from a relative. Again, it was more pleasant than she would have expected. "Goodbye, Sandy," he said. "Thanks for making this a fun evening."

She stayed outside while she could see him. When she went inside, she headed toward her room. She didn't want to be alone among the crowd in the basement. She shouldn't think too much of the kiss, she decided. Craig was in high school, and kids in high school seemed to kiss a lot.

Still, she did think about it -- that night and on later days. She also brooded because she didn't hear from Craig again. Even Linda didn't mention him when she came over to see Barbara.

If she did run into Craig again, though, she would have to know how to dance. She nagged Barb into lessons. Nagging wasn't that hard; Barb enjoyed dancing, and when she was teaching her sister to dance, their parents couldn't complain about the music. Dancing in her arms wasn't at all as much fun as dancing in Craig's had been, but she probably learned more. And Barb knew who she was; there was no evidence that Craig did.

Her mom took her to the department store and bought her some real bras. She wasn't in a training bra anymore.

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The school year ended; she graduated. That fall, she was in high school! It was so much bigger than she was used to, and the other kids were so much bigger, too. She walked down the halls not looking; she wanted to seem as blase' and used to the size as the seniors (like Barb) were.

Then she heard a boy call her name. "Sandy?" Was he calling someone else? There were a lot of Sandys in the school. No, he was looking right at her, and it was Craig!

"I'm Craig. Linda's brother. We met at your sister's birthday party."

"Of course." How could he think she would forget? He had been her first real kiss.

They were going in opposite directions, so they could only talk for one second. He passed her in the hall when she was going from algebra to biology every day after that, and had a greeting every time they passed.

After a few weeks, he left the school by the same entrance she used. That was a little odd; she never saw Linda there. But they talked a bit. She told him what her class schedule was. He'd had two of her teachers the year before, and they both had Mrs. Thomas for English.

Then one Friday afternoon, he called. "You know there is a sock hop a week from tonight?" She did; the whole school knew that there were dances every other Friday. "Would you like to go with me?"

She managed to say 'yes' without saying 'whoopee.'

That night at dinner, however, she couldn't restrain herself. "Do you have an invitation to the dance next Friday?" she asked Barb.

"Tom will ask me in school." Tom usually asked on a Wednesday, which their mom didn't think was polite.

"Well, I do. Craig called me up to invite me."

"And," asked her mom in her most threatening tone of voice, "did you tell him you had to ask permission?"

"I think you are too young to date," put in her dad. He thought she was too young to do anything fun.

"Barb gets to go out on dates with Tom."

"I didn't before I turned fifteen." Always the helpful sister!

"Oh, mom!" Dad was a lost cause.

"You'll have to tell him that you can't accept dates."

She didn't call until Sunday. She wheedled again and again, but it didn't do any good.

"Will you be at the dance?" Craig asked.

"I think so. I don't want to ask just now. I've been pushing too hard on this one." At that, she wished she could take her words back. She didn't want him to know what the invitation had meant to her -- how much he meant to her. On the other hand, she certainly didn't want to imply that he was unimportant.

"Well, that might be for the best."

She did go. Barb had been allowed to go to dances when she was a freshman, and her mom was in a better mood when Sandy asked her.

"You made it," Craig greeted her. He talked to her while "Ghost Car" was playing and asked her for a dance when the next song was fast.

"Honey Bee" was the next tune. "You can do this one," Craig said. "Want to try?" She could do them all, now.

They danced together. His lead got less firm throughout the song, but it was still firmer than Barb had been using for months.

"See!" he said. "You're a good dancer when you decide to let go."

They danced the next two dances together, and he got her some punch. She decided that telling him about the lessons would be a mistake. Let him think that his lead was enough.

He went away after a while; she wasn't his date after all. She talked with some of the other girls, danced (without a partner) two of the fast dances. Craig came back for the last dance. It was "Blue Velvet," and it had never sounded so pretty as it did when she was in Craig's arms.

Her dad came to pick them up at the end of the dance. "Tom could have driven me home," Barb said. "He's done it loads of times."

"I had to pick up Sandy, anyway," he said. "This was no problem." Barb looked daggers at her.

One day, Craig was talking with a girl when he went past in the hall. He waved, but didn't say anything.

The dances were every other Friday night. At the next one, they got there late; her dad had decided to stop in for gas on the way and then gossiped with the station attendant. Craig was dancing when she saw him, but he came over after that dance. She figured that she was in no position to say anything, since she couldn't be his date. They danced together for a while, and he got her another glass of punch. Again, he left her to talk with his friends; again, he came back for the last dance.

At the dance after that, she danced the first two dances with Craig. Then he went off to ask one of the other girls. Charlie Delray, who was in her history class, asked her to dance. He held her close, closer than Craig did, but it was less fun. Craig did return for the last dance, though.

This went on until her birthday came around. She couldn't have an all-girl party, not if she wanted to invite Craig. She invited as many boys as girls, but many of the boys declined. She thought about inviting Charlie; he was in one of her classes and seemed interested in her. But he seemed to be one of the bad boys. She decided not to. Two of the boys who had accepted didn't show up.

Craig came. Tom came with Barb, though they both left soon. All the rest were ninth graders. The slow dancing wasn't much of a success, and she put mostly rock records on the stack. She couldn't spend as much time dancing with Craig as she wanted, anyhow. She was both the birthday girl and the hostess. This time, Craig was the last one to leave. "I had a great time," he said. She walked him out the door again. He kissed her outside!

This felt wonderful. She melted into his arms. He stepped back, but then he supported her. "I owe you fourteen more," he said. She was willing, but her mom would come out in a minute.

"So," he said, "you're fifteen now. Will your mom and dad let you go on dates?"

"They ought to! Still, I haven't asked them."

"Well, you know how to get their agreement. Asking too soon might not be the best way."

After school on Monday, they talked about the party. He didn't mention the idea of dating. That night, though, he called her up. "They are showing 'West Side Story' at Taylor's Cinema on Friday. Would you go with me?" He sounded awfully stiff, as if he had rehearsed it.

"I'll have to ask my mom."

"I'll hold the phone if you want to do it now."

She asked. "I am fifteen now. You said 'not until you're fifteen.'"

"You've been fifteen for six days. This is rushing it."

"The movie is on Friday. I'll have been fifteen for ten days then. Come on! You said fifteen. Plenty of girls in my class have been dating for years."

"Well, I'll talk with him."

Having heard that Craig's mom would be doing the driving, she agreed. Sandy got back on the phone. "She said 'yes.' What time do you want to get here?"

Her mom might have been negative about the date, but she was a real help once she had decided to permit it. She gave Sandy some of her bath salts so she would smell pretty on her first date. Even Barb helped her dress. The dress had thin blue stripes. Sandy thought it made her look too young, but she wasn't about to tell her mom that.

At six o'clock, Craig rang the doorbell. Her dad and mom were there to talk to him. Her dad laid out the ground rules, not that there was any need for ground rules. They were going to get back soon after the end of the show, anyway. Craig's mom wasn't about to drive them to some make-out spot.

His mom had waited in the car. Craig opened the back door for her and walked around to get in beside her on the other side.

"Mom," Craig said, "this is Sandra Jackson. Sandy, my mom." He was obviously on his best behavior.

"Hello, Mrs. Schmidt," Sandy said.

"Hello Sandra," said Mrs. Schmidt. "You look delightful in that dress." The car was an ordinary Chrysler sedan. The back seat could have held four in a tight squeeze. She and Craig sat on opposite sides with a mile between them.

At the theater, Craig bought a box of popcorn and shared it with her. His mom sat in the row behind them. The movie was good, though; and Natalie Wood was wonderful. When they got to Sandy's house, Craig said, "Wait here." He got out and went around to help her out.

When he'd walked her to the door, she stood on the porch and he stood on the top step. "Thank you for coming," he said.

"Thank you for asking me. I had a wonderful time."

He kissed her there. It was a little funny with his head lower than hers. He took less time than he had before, but then his mom was watching. Probably so was hers. When the door opened, he turned and walked back to the car.

"Did you enjoy the movie?" her mom asked.

"It was great." And it had been. Movies definitely looked better with Craig sitting beside her.

Craig invited her to the next school dance, too. His dad drove them there and home, but -- at least -- there wasn't that constant presence behind them.

He kissed her at the door again. When she saw her dad watching TV when she went in, she thought he would object to that. Maybe he had noticed, but that wasn't what was on his mind. "Enjoy yourself?" he asked.

She had, and said so.

"Same boy who took you out to the movies, wasn't it?" Considering the third degree he had given Craig before the movie, that was a silly question. "You do dance with other boys when you're there, don't you?"

Well, she hadn't. "He was my date, after all. He took me to the dance."

"Ruth!" he called. He turned off the set while her mom was coming down.

The two of them were totally unreasonable. "It's fine you like Craig, darling," her mom said. They weren't treating her like a darling; they were treating her like a prisoner on a chain gang. "But you are much too young to settle on one boy. We want you to have fun, participate in the fun of high school." That her mom thought fun was any part of high school showed how out of it she was -- both of them were.

Barbara was no help either. How long had it been since she had danced with any boy except Tom? But Sandy didn't ask that. Barb would have killed her if she had mentioned it.

They made Craig come in and talk to them before the next dance. They set down even more rules. She and -- of course -- he would accept dances with other partners. She might be his date, but she wasn't his steady.

He did ask another girl to dance that night, and Charlie asked her to dance when they had "Rock Around the Clock" on. It was an old song, probably chosen by a teacher. Charlie did it well, however. And she -- if only in her own opinion -- danced well in front of him.

"Really, you know," Craig said to her Monday after school, "I'm not saying that I enjoyed seeing you dance with that sleaze. Still, I don't mind your parents making that rule. It's different from your deciding it."

He took her to see The Guns of Navarone. She was more interested in the boy sitting beside her than in all the explosions happening on the screen. "Wasn't that a great picture?" Craig asked her after school on Monday. She agreed, but her insincerity must have been obvious. "What do you think is the best movie of all time?" he asked.

That question was easy. "Three Coins in the Fountain."

They talked after school every day now. Sometimes it was about what they had done; other times it was questions like that.

And sometimes he called her just to talk. His parents bound him to the same rules as Linda, and she sometimes heard his mom call "Time!" Then he apologized and hung up.

The Monday after Christmas, Craig had a package in his hand when he greeted her. "Here." It was a Christmas present!

"I didn't get you anything." And the way her allowance was tied up, she couldn't get him anything for weeks.

"I didn't get it for you because I wanted you to give me something. I got it for you because I like you." That was sweet of him to say. The gift was a small locket. She wore it to school the next day, though nobody could see it under her blouse.

He took her to the first dance of the new year. Again, they danced with others, but he expected the first and last dance -- others, but especially those two. She went looking for him when they started to play "Honey Bee." She regarded this as their song.

One day, Craig's father drove them to the movies. "I'll be back at 8:30," he said. "Be right here. Don't make me look for you." They went in by themselves. At first, Craig behaved as he always did. After the main feature came on, though, he reached over and took her hand in his. She couldn't concentrate on the picture, although Craig seemed to. All she could feel was his hand holding hers. That night, his kiss was extra thrilling. It wasn't anything he did; he seemed more nervous of his dad than he did of his mom. Instead, it was a kiss from a boy who had been holding her hand all night in the dark.

With a sophomore interested in her, Sandy was more popular with her classmates. Maybe there was another reason, but she couldn't see it.

At the next dance, Charlie asked her again. The song was Can't Help Falling in Love. He held her tight against him. She noticed that something was prodding into her belly. It wasn't his belt buckle.

The next week in algebra class, a boy was at the board solving a problem. Everybody started giggling. When Sandy looked, his zipper was sticking out. The kid had a stiffie. When the teacher let him sit down and the incident was over, Sandy knew what part of Charlie had been sticking into her. How gross!!

On their way out of school one Tuesday, Craig handed her an envelope. He hurried off, leaving her feeling a little hurt. When she opened the envelope, though, it was a valentine. Of course, the next day was Valentine's day. Her friends exclaimed over the card, and she walked to a store on the way -- well, far out of the way -- home to buy him one. The next day, Craig walked her the usual block before their paths parted. She handed him her card just before he turned. He hurried on before opening it. Her friends, all of whom had seen the card, giggled.

Craig invited her to his birthday party. At her mom's suggestion, she bought him a necktie. There were more boys than girls there; either his mom or his dad was always present; there were more games and less dancing than Sandy would have liked. Still, she got to dance with Craig once, and the event was fun.

The Schmidts had actually bought stuff for their basement rather than simply sticking old furniture down there, like her parents had. There was even a bar with a mirror behind it, not that anyone in the party used it for more than a place to set down their Cokes.

Craig got a driver's license. He was quite excited, and so was she. She could remember, though, all the hassle her mom and dad had given Barb over going off with Tom when he had first got his license.

Sandy and all her friends gathered at Sue's house one day. Sue's mom served Kool Aid and left them while she did the laundry downstairs. Since she was down there, they couldn't play any loud records. Linda -- not Barb's friend, one of Sandy's classmates with that name -- mentioned a boy's poking her during a dance. Apparently, Sandy wasn't the only girl with that problem. She kept her mouth closed and listened. Mary, who babysat and was their expert on male anatomy, filled them in.

"They pee though that?"

"And when a husband and wife want to make a baby," Mary told them, "he pees in her. I think it's gross." They all agreed that it was gross.

Then they heard Sue's mom coming up the stairs. "Did you hear that the Cameron Sisters are breaking up?" Carol asked suddenly. Some said they had heard that; Sandy couldn't believe it.

For a miracle, her mom and dad didn't make a fuss when Craig wanted to drive her to the next dance. Maybe Barb had worn them down; maybe Craig looked more respectable driving his family's car than Tom did driving his own '54 Chevy.

Craig danced the first three dances with her and got her some punch. When Charlie asked her for the next dance, she looked over toward Craig, but he was backing away. The song was Whenever He Needs Me, and Charlie held her close again. She didn't like his poking into her. When the next-to-the-last dance was starting, she popped into the girl's. She not only used the facilities and straightened her dress, she used the mirror to renew her lipstick. She was a woman, being driven home by her man; she wanted to look the part.

The last dance was Ghost Car. Craig came for her and they danced as Jerry Timmons told them of the driver who would "never pull over again." Craig had as much of a stiffie as Charlie had, but he did his best to hide it from her. She decided that he was acting like a gentleman.

Craig didn't drive her directly home. Instead, he stopped in the teacher's parking lot at her old grade school. "I really enjoyed this evening," he said. "Dancing with you is loads of fun."

"I enjoyed it, too," she said.

He took her hand and leaned over to where she was sitting. He kissed her on the mouth. He didn't ask permission, but he moved slowly. She could have ducked if she had wanted to, but she definitely hadn't wanted to. Their mouths met for minutes. They were both breathing hard when he broke away.

"I really need to get you back," he said.

She had learned to wait for him to open the door, and he did this time. He walked her to her door and gave her as light a kiss as he had the times before.

"You're late," her mom said when she saw her. Her dad was in their room, and -- for a wonder -- her mom didn't call him.

"Barb was at the same dance. Is she back yet?" She never had been in all the previous occasions they went to the same dances.

"Your sister is older and has different rules."

"That isn't fair. It is the same dance. So Craig drove home a little slowly. Would you want him to speed? Would you?"

The argument went on and on. "All right," said her mom finally. "We'll want to talk with Craig before the next date. Now clean yourself off."

When Sandy got upstairs and looked in the mirror, she was shocked. Her lipstick was smeared all over her face.

The rules they set for Craig were surprisingly loose. She could get home from a dance a half hour after it ended; she could stop off for a hamburger or something after a movie, but she had to be home an hour after the movie was over. "And ten o'clock is it," said her dad. "There might be special events, but Sandy has to ask especially for each one."

Sandy learned better than to freshen her lipstick for the last dance. If anything, she was one of the girls blotting her lips and trying to wipe the remnants of lipstick away at the end of the evening.

The Cameron Sisters did break up. Peggy Cameron had a hit single, Sweet Lies. All the magazines suggested that the song wasn't really about breaking up with some boy, but about how her sisters had behaved. When Peggy Cameron sang, "Those aren't tears in my eyes," Sandy could well believe it. Her career as a single just showed who the real star of the group had been.

Barb broke up with Tom. Sandy thought this was almost as bad as the breakup of the Cameron Sisters. They had been going together forever. And Tom hadn't talked down to Sandy the way Barb did.

She hadn't seen The Alamo when it came out, and Craig took her to see it when it came to Taylor's Cinema again. He held her hand, squeezing it at every exciting point in the movie. That was nice, but he clearly was paying more attention to the movie than to her. In the car afterwards, he took her face in both hands while he kissed her. He caressed her head, running his hands through her hair and mussing it totally. He held her shoulders while he kissed her hard. Then he eased up with his mouth while his hands moved down. She couldn't believe it; he was touching her breast.

She felt violated; she also felt excited. Her breasts had never felt so alive. She waited for a moment, then pushed his arms away. "That's enough," she said. He reached up to her face and kissed her again. Then he leaned back in his seat and started the car. Luckily, no one was home when she got there; she brushed out her hair before anyone saw her.

They were parking and kissing after every movie or dance now. He took her to the Dairy Queen some nights. They sat in a booth and talked with all the other kids, but he was careful to leave with plenty of time to get her home. He even took enough time to park afterwards.

She didn't mind. Indeed, she enjoyed his attentions. The date after they had seen The Alamo was a dance. She danced with him for the first four dances and for "Honey Bee." The last dance was "Sweet Lies."

"Those aren't tears in my eyes.
Rain drops fell from the skies.
I won't miss your sweet lies.
Those aren't tears in my eyes,"
Peggy Cameron sang while Craig led her around the dance floor. They moved so well together now.

She noticed that his hand, which had begun this dance at her waist, had drifted lower. It wasn't holding her seat, the way some of the Senior boys danced. He did however, touch her there. Every time she flexed her left hip, she could feel maybe one finger touching that muscle. She looked around to see if any chaperone had noticed. They didn't seem to. It felt exciting, evil but exciting.

When they parked that night, he held her shoulders while he kissed her hard. When he eased back, his hands caressed her arms all the way down to the wrists. He gripped her shoulders again for another hard kiss. This time his hands moved down her front to cover her breasts. This felt exciting. She reached up and held his face so she could kiss him harder.

He didn't remove his hands until it was time to start the car. This time when he kissed her good night on the porch, he held her tight against him. She didn't understand how he could feel anything through her coat; all she had felt was a vague pressure. Still, it had made her feel excited.

After the next movie, he kissed her and held her shoulders again. Then he began to unbutton her coat. Could she stop him? Should she stop him? Then it was done, and he was holding her breast through her blouse and bra. The idea of this felt even more exciting, but the sensations she felt were exciting, too.

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Barb's graduation was coming up. She was the center of family attention. Sandy didn't like it, but she was resigned to it. Besides, she needed a little inattention just then.

Craig was parking at the end of every date. He was putting his hands all over her blouse every time they parked. Sandy didn't want her mom to know (and she certainly didn't want her dad to know), but she found it exciting. One night, they were deep into a kiss; her nipples were reaching out toward Craig's hands. Suddenly a horn blew just in front of them. They jerked apart and looked wildly around. Sandy couldn't see anybody.

"I think my elbow hit the horn," Craig said. That was as likely as anything. "Sometimes I hate the steering wheel. Would you like to move in back?"

That was a good idea, but she looked at her watch. "We only have minutes."

"Next time, then?" That was a better idea.

"Next time," she said. And that meant there would be a next date, not that she really worried about that.

He drove her home and kissed her on the porch. That was a long kiss, even though it didn't compare with what they had already had that night.

After the next dance, they parked. "In back?" he asked. He opened his door and got in the back on the left side. She made her own journey. Craig, who opened the door for her every time at the movies, expected her to get herself into the back seat. Once she was there, however, he kissed her tenderly. Only after that, did he open her coat. He held the back of her head with one hand while he kissed her. The other hand cupped and rubbed her breast.

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Next Friday at dinner, her mom said, "Tell Craig to come right back after the movie, will you? And ask him to come in." She wondered what they had found out. Instead of some accusation, however, she and Craig were met with the smell of cocoa. Her mom served the two of them in the kitchen and drank a cup herself. Then she left them alone in the living room watching Gunsmoke. Craig sat apart from her but his arm was across her back. When the program ended at ten o'clock, he got up to leave. Still, there was no sound on the stairs. He kissed her good night before putting on his coat.

She could feel his stiffie, but it didn't gross her out. Really, she rather liked it. When she'd waved from the doorway and watched his car out of sight from the window, the news was on. She switched off the TV and walked upstairs to her room. "Did you have a good time, darling?" her mom called from her room.

"Yes, thank you." And it had been a good time.

The weather changed suddenly. At beginning of the week it was chilly, turning to drizzle during dinner on Tuesday. Wednesday and Thursday it rained so heavily that her mom drove her to school both days. Craig stopped her in the hall after her algebra class on Wednesday. "My mom drove me to school today."

"So did mine." So did half the moms in town.

"I'm being picked up tonight. I can't leave by the usual exit."

"I'm being picked up, too. And so is Barb. So I can't change."

"I just wanted you to know. I'm not avoiding you."

"That's okay. I understand." Actually, while she enjoyed talking to him after school, she enjoyed this as well. He'd never said he'd be there the next day. She'd looked for him, but -- for months -- he'd never actually said he'd be there. "Look, I have to get to biology." The bell rang before she did, and Mr. Jenkins gave her a dirty look as she scrambled past him.

When they got out of school on Thursday, kids were carrying their raincoats instead of wearing them. They could have walked home, but she and Barb waited for their mom, anyway. The wait was only a few minutes, and her mom was cheerful when they got in the car. "Isn't this a great day?"

And, despite having to go back to school the next day, it was.

Her mom made her take her raincoat to the movies the next night. She didn't need it, but her mom didn't believe the forecasts. She carried it into the theater, and Craig led her to the balcony. He put his arm around her up there. She could feel the heat of that arm through his shirt and her thin blouse. That was more exciting than the movie.

A week later, the gym was too warm. The cool air where they parked was a relief, but not enough of one to crank down the windows. They sat pressed against each other in the back seat while Craig kissed her. He broke to kiss all over her face, and then returned to her mouth. His tongue pressed against her lips! When she opened her mouth, it seemed terribly intrusive. Still, a thrill went through her when her tongue met it. While they were kissing like that, Craig moved his hand over her leg through the skirt. For the first time, he got her back later than her curfew. Her dad was waiting and chewed them out before Craig escaped from the porch.

The weather, which had been cold so long, seemed to turn hot almost immediately. She wore a thin, short-sleeved, blouse to a movie date with Craig. She could feel the warmth of his arm across her back. His fingers continually traced a pattern over the skin of her arm. She could hardly pay attention to the movie. In the back seat afterwards, Craig held her right breast with one hand, his arm curving around the back of her neck. The other hand traced all over her blouse. His hands weren't chilly in this warm weather, but she shivered anyway. The kiss, the touches, the knowledge that he was hers, all added up to a wonderfully exciting feeling.

He began to unbutton the blouse. She knew she should stop him. He'd unbuttoned her coat many times, but he could see her without a coat any time -- strangers did all the time. Of course, they couldn't touch her. Still, taking off her blouse was revealing her in a new way, a dangerous way.

Then, while she was deciding, his hands were on her skin. The touch was soothing and exciting all at the same time. She relaxed into the kiss.

When he kissed her good night on her porch that night, he gripped her hips and pressed himself against her. His stiffie was harder than it had ever been, but it didn't bother her. Instead, she had a surprising feeling of power. He suddenly let go of her seat to look at his watch. "I'd better let you go in," he said.

Her mom and dad were watching Maverick when she passed through the living room. Neither said anything. When she got ready for bed, her panties were damp. It hadn't been that hot; she was sure that she hadn't sweated. She put them in the hamper and forgot about it.

Barb had a date to the next dance. His name was Rick. Sandy had only been vaguely aware of him, but he was in some of Barb's classes. Barb was excited about him, about not being all alone, about everything. Still, the house was more pleasant with her excited than it had been when she was moping.

After she and Craig had had three dances, he went off to ask one of the girls without a date. She danced one of the fast dances by herself. Then Charlie asked her to dance. The song was "Ghost Car."

"I think this might be my favorite song," he said. He sang along with the record, quite softly.

"Does a ghost car drive on route twenty five
As drivers have seen now and then?
That smokey knows holds no one alive
Who'll ever pull over again."

He was holding her rather close, but no closer than Craig did these days. Just then, Craig danced past with a girl from his class. She pushed herself tighter against Charlie. Craig didn't seem to notice, but Charlie got a noticeable stiffie. He also stopped singing.

She decided that she liked knowing that she had given Charlie a stiffie. Craig might be paying attention to another girl, but Sandy had what it took to interest other guys. In the car afterwards, though, Craig's attention was all on her. He kissed her hard and held her breasts through her bra. Again, when she got home, her panties were damp. She hoped it wasn't pee.

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Somehow, she never got a chance to talk with Craig. They spoke for a few minutes after school almost every day, but there were other kids around then. The few times when her family wasn't around to hear her telephone conversations, she was afraid his were around his end. They went on dates, but that was about dancing or movies and petting. It wasn't about talking.

Craig's (and Linda's) mom got a job on the A&P checkout line. Linda, unlike Barb, was planning on going to college. When Sandy's mom heard about the new job, she was slightly disapproving. To her, it sounded as if Linda's mom needed a job to pay the tuition.

Barb and Linda had made plans for the prom months before. Those plans had, naturally, included Tom and Larry. Now that Tom wasn't involved, all those plans had to be scrapped. Larry was still Tom's friend, and he was rather on the outs with Rick.

The prom was all about seniors, but other students in the high school went there as well. Craig invited Sandy. Unfortunately, it ended after her curfew. She marshaled all her arguments: Barb had gone her freshman year; her parents knew Craig and knew that he was reliable. But she didn't need any of those arguments. "That's lovely, dear," her mom said. "You'll be back half an hour after the end of the prom?" That was plenty of time.

She bought a new dress for the prom. Craig even brought a corsage. He pinned it on her, touching her breast through the dress. She blushed that her mom and dad could see that, but they didn't say a word. She wasn't too used to walking in high heels, and she had to dance in them. Craig led her firmly, though, and she got through the evening.

The prom was different, and not just wearing shoes. There were a prom queen and her court -- only seniors could vote for them. They saw one senior boy propose to his date, kneeling down right out on the dance floor. It was a traditional night for proposals, but the public nature was a rare event. Sandy saw the ring afterwards, though. It fit the girl's finger suspiciously well.

They only got to park for a few minutes after they left the prom. They didn't even leave the front seat. It was just as well; she was feeling sleepy by that time. Craig reached for the zipper on the back of her dress anyway, but she wouldn't cooperate. He didn't insist; probably he was feeling sleepy as well. Her mom helped her out of the new dress when she got home, and then brought her a sandwich when she was in bed. She didn't get to sleep for more than an hour after she got home, but Barb got in even later than that.

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Barb's graduation took the whole family's time and attention. Sandy didn't even go to the movies with Craig. His family, of course, were all concerned about Linda's graduation. The dances were over for the year. Her friend Carol Chase was being put in the shade even worse. Her sister, Anne, got married soon after she graduated.

Craig got a summer job as a bag boy at the same grocery store where his mom worked. He called her up one Wednesday night. "Look," he said, "I work most weekends, now. And the hours are awful. And, of course, there aren't any dances. But would you like to go to the movies next Wednesday?"

"Well, it's not a school night anymore. I'll ask."

Her mom didn't even check with her dad. "Sure, darling. Same rules." Probably, she could have got a later curfew, but she didn't make that argument.

"I really enjoyed dancing with you at the prom," Craig said on the way to the movie theater. "Did you enjoy it?" She had. "Ankles all right, now?" They were.

The theater was emptier than it had been on Friday nights. It was cooler inside, too. Or maybe her summer blouse was too thin. Anyway, Craig's arm around her kept her warm. She watched the screen, but was very conscious of his hand. It caressed her shoulder in the beginning, but it strayed lower until he was touching her bra-covered breast. There was no way he could get close the nipple in that position, so she didn't even push the hand away once.

By the time the movie was over, she was feeling quite excited. She'd missed him; she'd missed this. As soon as he'd pulled up the hand brake, she opened her door and moved to the back seat. His kiss was gentle at first, then pressing against her mouth. When his tongue touched her lips, she opened her mouth in welcome. The touch of their tongues was electrifying; his hand on her breast through bra and blouse was even more exciting. He broke the kiss to scatter little kisses all over her face. "I love you, Sandy," he said. It was the first time he'd mentioned the word.

"I love you, too, Craig." His hand was fumbling at the buttons on her blouse. She unbuttoned it herself. For the first time, she unbuttoned his shirt as well. While his hands cupped her breasts through the bra, hers traveled over his warm skin. Their mouths hardly left each other. Wondering how much time they had left, she checked her watch. It was after ten!

She pushed him away. "Craig!"

"What's wrong?"

"What time do you have?"

He checked his watch. "Ten - fifteen. Damn!"

He got out and back behind the wheel. He waited while she straightened her clothes. When she got back in the front seat, he drove her home. "I'm sorry. I got carried away and forgot the time."

"It didn't seem like that long." She had got carried away, too, but she didn't think it was a good idea to say so. He didn't even kiss her good night on the porch. Her parents were livid when she got in. She couldn't go out for another two weeks.

Barb was now working in an office. She was a file clerk; the typing classes she had taken in high school went unused. She contributed some of her new wages to the household accounts. "With your sister working a standard week and contributing money," her mom told Sandy, "it doesn't seem fair to ask her for housework beyond her own room."

So Sandy learned how to do the wash. She already did dishes and helped her mom in the kitchen.

"The movie," Craig said when he picked her up for their next date, "is 101 Dalmatians. And the theater is sure to be jammed with little kids." That didn't sound appetizing. "Do you want to just go for a hamburger?"

They went to a drive-in. They sat in the car with their windows open and talked over their food. Except for the girl who brought their food, nobody could hear them. It was more privacy than they'd ever had to talk before, even though the talk was just like their after-school talk. He bought her a milkshake when the burgers were done. The heck with her diet.

The sun was down but the sky was still light when the girl had taken their trays away. She didn't want to park; anybody could see them. Instead of heading to one of their usual places, though, Craig drove out to a farm road. Beyond the first turn, they were surrounded by trees. "Do you want to get in back?" Craig asked.

Once in the back seat, Craig kissed her. He tasted of onions, and she noted that she should order them on her burger when he did. She was looking forward to the taste of his tongue, but he broke away from her mouth to kiss all over her face before she got that treat. He kissed her earlobe and unbuttoned the neck of her blouse to kiss her throat.

When she wanted to touch him, she started on his buttons. He stopped what he was doing to remove his shirt completely. She followed his example, and then they went back into the kiss. His hands roamed all over her skin, and then returned to her bra. His kisses left her mouth to trail down over her face and neck. The kisses on her throat were exciting, then he kissed across her shoulder, just skipping the bra strap.

They had longer than they had ever had before. When they finally broke, it was dark outside. Still, he got her home by nine-thirty. When she changed for bed, however, her panties were soaked. It didn't smell like pee; it didn't smell at all, and she hoped he hadn't noticed. It wasn't until next morning that she noticed that she had a hickey. She wore a scarf to cover it, and her mom didn't say anything.

That Monday, she did the wash. Her mom helped make the beds, even hers, and it went much faster with two. (They used already-clean sheets and made all but Barb's right after stripping them all. Barb took care of her own room.)

Craig's life had changed with his new job, and they no longer had their daily talks after school. After the movie the next Wednesday, they stopped for shakes at the drive-in. They took them with them in the car, and -- after kissing for a time that was remarkably brief -- they sat in the car finishing their shakes and talking until her curfew time rolled around.

She and her friends all gathered in Mary's house one day. They were listening to records in Mary's room. Carol came over too, and when the record was finished, she said: "Mary, you were wrong."

"About what?"

"I talked with my sister. She says it's not pee. It comes from the same place, but it's entirely different stuff."

Sandy now knew what Mary had been wrong about. But one of the other girls hadn't been there.

"It's how a man and a woman make a baby," Carol said. "Mary said the man pees in his wife. Anne says different. She's married, and she's expecting a baby." They'd all known Anne had got married. The baby was news to Sandy and, apparently, the others. "He puts his thing in her, but what comes out isn't pee."

"I still think it's gross," said Sue.

"I do, too. But Anne got all big sister when I said that. You know." Boy, did Sandy know! "She said I'd change my mind in a few years."

"What shall I play next?" asked Mary.

They decided on Sweet Lies:

"Those aren't tears in my eyes,
Rain drops fell from the skies.
I won't miss your sweet lies.
Those aren't tears in my eyes.

"Once you said that you loved me true
And felt for me what I felt for you.
But that was just what you would say
To any girl on any day."

When the record was over, the other girls all agreed that Peggy Cameron had boys pegged. They would tell you anything, but they would tell the next girl the same thing. Sandy wasn't sure. She thought that Craig was interested in her. Sure, he danced with other girls, but it was Sandy's parents who had insisted on that. But she said none of that.

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Craig had to buy his own gas and clothes, now. Still, with a steady job, even a little overtime, he had more money to spend, and he spent some of it on her. On Wednesdays, even some Saturdays, he picked her up before her family ate dinner. He took her out for burgers and shakes before the movie. Sometimes, too, they skipped the movie and drove out to their place.

They petted more, but they talked more, too. Each talked about hopes and dreams for the future. Craig's family expected him to go to college, and he looked forward to that. They never quite talked about having a future together, but Sandy dreamed of that.

Sandy was taking more and more responsibility for the housework. She could remember sneaking into her parents room when she was very small, and she could remember being spanked for it. Now, she often was in there to change the sheets, sometimes to vacuum. Remembering the sneaking -- and the spanking -- she looked around when she went in. She was careful, though, not to touch anything; her mom could come upstairs at any moment.

When her mom was out one morning, however, Sandy looked a lot more carefully. There was a book, Ideal Marriage, at the back of the closet shelf. Glancing at it, she could see why it was hidden back there. She put it carefully back where she had found it. That Saturday, however, her mom and dad were gone for hours and Barb was on a date. She got the book again. It was fascinating stuff. She hid it away where nobody could find it.

Craig warned her when Guns of Navarone returned to Taylor's Cinema. "I know you didn't like it much," he said. "We don't have to go."

"Well, I didn't like it as much as you did. Who could?" And if they didn't go together, when could he see it? His days were all tied up in the grocery store. "That doesn't mean that I didn't like it."

After they saw the movie, he took her out for a shake at the drive-in. Really, she would just as soon park the whole time. But a good girl couldn't say that, and he was clearly trying to make the evening special for her.

He got her a sundae for desert on their next date. It was scrumptious, but so was the parking afterwards. This time, Craig not only petted her all over, he kissed her all over. He even kissed her through the bra. That felt wonderful.

During the ride home, though, she felt dampness in her panties. She worried that she had peed herself and Craig would be able to smell it. When she had got home and changed into her night clothes, she sniffed her panties closely. They were definitely wet, but she couldn't smell a thing.

The next week, reading the book in bed, she discovered what had happened to her. She read about two glands down there which produced fluid when the woman was sexually stimulated. At least it wasn't pee.

That book was the hardest she had ever read. Even the poems she got in school weren't that hard. Finally, she mostly looked at the diagrams. When her mom went shopping again, she sneaked the book back in the closet.

Now she had to be careful that Craig didn't give her hickeys. Still, the kisses on her neck were delightful. Sometimes, when he kissed her neck, she kissed his. One night in the back seat, he kissed her where her neck joined her shoulder. That felt wonderful, and she kissed his shoulder in return. He kissed down over her bra. He stopped when his mouth reached the peak. He opened his mouth wide and sucked her in. She gloried in her feelings. He went on and on, and it felt too good to stop. When it did stop, though, her bra was definitely wet. When she got her blouse back on in preparation for going home, some of the dampness seeped onto it. Luckily, her dad and mom were engrossed in the TV when she went through the living room. The light from the set didn't show anything.

Craig called her Monday night. "Three Coins in the Fountain is coming back," he said. "I don't think it will be at Taylor's, though. The problem is that it is coming to The Starlite." The Starlite was a drive-in a good ways away. "And it's on the bottom of a double feature. There is no way I can get you home by ten."

"I'll ask." And she did.

"The curfew isn't the only problem," her mom said. "I don't want you going to a drive-in."

"Mom, dad took the whole family to The Starlite a couple of times."

"So he did, but I don't want you going to a drive-in with a boy."

"It's Three Coins in the Fountain."

"Which you've seen. Which you've seen several times. The only good thing about that movie is the opening song, which you have on a record." Well, she had it on three records, really. But that wasn't the same thing. "Wait 'til it comes here."

"It won't."

"Just wait."

Finally, her mom called up Taylor's and asked when they would have Three Coins in the Fountain. They wouldn't have it this release, didn't know when the next release would be. "Lady, I don't think the studio knows when the next release will be. Depends on the house this time. It won't be soon, though."

It took an hour to wear her mom down. "And get back right after the show lets out, hear?" She heard.

Craig picked her up well after dinner. They got to the drive-in a few minutes before the first show began. Craig didn't even kiss her, but he did rest his hand on her neck while the first movie was on. He also got them Cokes and chips from the refreshment stand. Considering what was going on in some of the other cars, not that she could see much, he was showing remarkable restraint. Some of the cars around them had their windows rolled up. That not only meant that they were steaming inside, it meant that their speakers weren't bringing them the sound of the show. None of them, at least among the ones she glanced at when Three Coins . . . came on, rolled down their windows. That meant that they missed the magnificent opening song.

The movie was as wonderful as always, and -- with a boy who had driven all this way so she could see the show sitting beside her, even touching her -- more romantic than ever before. Once they were out of the ending mess, Craig drove her straight home. He didn't even suggest that they park for one minute.

When they got to her house, though, she said, "Craig, wait." He stopped with his hand on the door. She took his face in both of her hands and kissed him. She even pushed her tongue in his mouth. The kiss couldn't express her gratitude or how turned on she felt.

After that, he got out and walked her to the door like always. His kiss was as warm as his kisses ever got at her front door, and his hug was as tight. She felt his stiffie pressed against her leg. "Thanks," she said. Then she had to go in.

Her parents had to have heard the car stop long before she got in the door, but neither mentioned it. Her mom only said, "Enjoy yourself, dear?"

"Oh yes!" she said.

"That's good," said her dad.

The summer was dragging to a close, with school looming in the future. Linda was going away to the state university. She and Barb swore undying devotion to each other and promised to write. When each got married, the other would be maid of honor.

"I saw Anne Chase downtown today," Sandy's dad said at dinner, "well, Anne Dalton, and not a minute too soon. She was out to here." He made a gesture in front of his stomach.

"I'm not surprised," her mom said. Sandy had been surprised when she'd heard about the baby, and she'd think her mom would be, too. It was her mom who had told her that couples should wait a year or two before starting their families.

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Craig took her out for burgers and Cokes before the next movie. These days she was having onions on her burgers since Craig had them on his. After the movie, they parked in their spot. In the back seat, Craig kissed her as always, petted over her exposed skin and covered breasts. He was kissing her deeply, his tongue pressed against hers, when she felt him fumbling at the back of her bra.

Did she want this? Not that she had to worry that he was going to get the bra off the way he was going at it. The bra was too tight, even at the last snaps, and she herself couldn't get it off from that position.

She pushed him away. "Leave it," she said. "Kiss me again." He did kiss her, and -- somewhat later -- kissed her breasts again through the bra. Still, it was an old bra. It didn't quite fit and she wouldn't want her mouth on it. And, if he had taken it off, she would have had to get out of the car to snap it again -- not something she was willing to do, notwithstanding the privacy of the spot.

It was time to buy new school clothes, anyway. And she was years too old to take her mom along on her shopping trips. A few days later she went down to the department store. She could make her own selection of dresses and blouses, but the bins of bras were too confusing. She chose the least threatening of the sales women.

"I think I need some new bras," she said. She hoped that what she was feeling wasn't a blush.

"You certainly do, honey." The woman grabbed a tape measure. "Come with me." After several embarrassing measurements in a changing room, she finally asked, "How old are you, anyway?"

"Sixteen." Her birthday would come while she was wearing the new bras, anyway.

"Still growing, then. Well, you are between a B cup and a C. I'd recommend a C. And a 34. That will fit in the last snap, and you can use the later snaps when you grow more."

She took the woman's advice, including the advice to buy only one bra then so she could try it out. A C cup was what her mom wore; Barb wore a B. As the one doing the laundry, Sandy knew those things. Still, the 34 C felt much better, if it didn't seem to clasp her the way the old one did.

It was nearly two weeks later, though, when Craig reached for her bra strap again. She put her hands on his head and leaned forward to deepen the kiss. In that position, Craig could unsnap the bra, though he struggled with it more than she thought reasonable. The new one wasn't that hard to do.

"Oh Sandy!" he said. He touched her smoothness gently. Soon, though, he was holding them painfully tight.

She pushed his hands away. "Don't squeeze," she said.

"I'm sorry." And he touched them gently again. Instead of returning to her lips, he kissed over her breasts. When his lips reached her nipple, a thrill ran through her. The next time she could think of anything else, Craig was looking at his watch. "Tell me when I can pull out of here," he said before circling to the front seat.

She pulled the bra into the correct position and shrugged into her blouse. "Drive," she said, "I can do the rest in a moving car." He sped up as soon as he'd turned from the rutted farm road to the state highway. He stopped just before he turned down her street so she could get in the front seat. She was a few minutes late, despite all their care. Her dad bawled her out, but the fault was small enough that he didn't keep her home because of it.

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School started. She had -- everybody had -- a brand-new schedule. Craig and she both had the second lunch period. They ate together, which meant more time to talk than leaving the school together had given them.

Craig invited her to a movie on Wednesday night, just as if school hadn't started. It as a school night, and her dad raised a fuss. Still, Barb had gone out on school nights, and her dad finally had to see that she was a sophomore now.

Their time in their spot was more exciting than ever. He stroked her breasts while he kissed her, and then -- the high spot of the evening -- kissed them all over. Her nipples tingled and stood out when she put the bra back on. She was glad this bra wasn't so tight, and she went back to the store and bought two more of the same size.

It was lucky she had, because Craig asked her out for a burger on Friday night. They got caught up in conversation with their friends, and got to their spot late.

When Craig drove into the farm road, though, they found it wasn't only their spot. Another car was already parked there. The headlights of the Chrysler revealed a foot outlined in the back window of the other car. Then Craig backed out and turned down the state road. They hunted for another spot in embarrassed silence.

By the time they found a place that gave them a little privacy, it was nearly time to head back. As they sat there, the whole situation suddenly struck them both as funny. They sat beside each other, shaking with laughter. Finally, still in the front seat, Craig leaned over and gave her long kiss. Then he put the car in gear and drove her home.

"Did you enjoy your date, darling?" her mom asked her. She really hadn't, but she had to struggle to keep from laughing. She certainly wasn't going to explain what was so funny, nor why she hadn't enjoyed the date.

The first dance of the new school year was great. Craig seemed to hold her closer than ever when they danced. Sometimes his feet caressed hers while they sat and talked. The time afterwards, however, was much too short. Craig hardly seemed to have begun kissing her breasts when they had to move back to the front seat to drive home.

"Mom, I'm in tenth grade now. A curfew of ten o'clock is ridiculous. Nobody else in my grade has to be back that early."

"You're still fifteen. Maybe we'll change it to eleven when you're sixteen. Not for school nights, though."

"How about ten-thirty until then? I'm fifteen and a half."

"Ten-thirty on dance nights. Ten on school nights; you need your sleep to be fresh in the morning." What good it was to be fresh for school when school, itself, was so stale, her mom never explained.

All her subjects were drags. Plane geometry, though, was the worst. Algebra had been hard enough, but geometry didn't seem to involve anything but memorizing proofs. She could draw a T; she could figure out what was given -- the teacher didn't seem to care what order you memorized those in; all the rest was a blur. The harder she worked at it, the more confused she got.

Her period came on the day of the next dance. That didn't affect the dancing, but it rather affected the parking afterwards. Her breasts were a little tender, and Craig's touch was more annoying than arousing. She couldn't, of course, tell him why.

She got a D on the geometry test. He dad grounded her until the grade improved. When Craig called her up to invite her out for a burger, she had to tell him. "Look," he said, "I shouldn't invite myself over, but ask your dad if I could help you with geometry. I wasn't any great shakes in it, but I passed."

She asked -- her mom, not her dad -- without mentioning that it was Craig's idea. "Well, dear, as long as I'm home. You can study in the dining room."

They did, distracted by the sound of Perry Mason coming from the TV set in the living room. "Look," Craig said. "Figure out what they're proving. You don't have to get everything in the right order, as long as you don't use whatever they prove until you've put down the proof."

That made a little sense. "Why didn't Mr. Warren say that?"

"I dunno. Took me the longest time to figure it out. Now the commonest reason, of course, is 'given.' The most important, usually the last one, is 'CPCT.' Well, not always. Sometimes You're proving that the triangles are congruent."

"We seem to spend days doing only that."

"Well, that might be 'cause you're going to use that in lots of future proofs."

"I'll never remember all these proofs. How many do you need to memorize in the whole year?"

"It gets worse. You're supposed to develop your own proofs. So memorizing them isn't enough. Figure out what they're doing and what the patterns are. Watch baseball?"

"Some." Craig was a boy, after all, but he hadn't seemed one of those obsessed with sports.

"Well, you never get quite the same action in two games. But there's a pattern. I say 'double play,' and you know what I mean. Well, geometry's like that. They do the same thing to prove things over and over again. Want two angles to be equal? Want two proportions to be the same? Then you see where there are two triangles holding those angles or those lines. You prove those two triangles are congruent."

"That's hard enough."

"Well," Craig said, "it can be. But not this early in the book. When are two triangles congruent? When any two angles are equal. Or when all the proportions between lines are the same on two triangles. And then there's an included angle. Really, only three ways. So you look for the triangles that should be congruent. Sometimes they give you some lines and some angles, and you have to draw the full triangle yourself."

Craig might not know as much as Mr. Warren did, but he explained it a lot more clearly. She started getting Bs on her homework, even some As. She still couldn't go to the next dance with Craig, but he could come over to help her. They moved into the basement, and her mom brought down some lemonade. Sandy walked Craig outside after the study. The kiss was the hottest she had ever had on the porch.

Even though the next geometry test was right before her period began, which usually gave problems, she got a B. The papers were handed back on a Thursday, and she showed Craig when they left school together. "That's wonderful," he said.

"It's all your doing."

"Nonsense. You took the test; you learned the subject. Could you come to the dance tomorrow night?"

"I'll ask."

When she did, her mom got all stuffy. "Really," she said, "I used to think it was uncivilized that Tom asked Barb two days before. You don't want a boy thinking you're available at the last minute."

"Well, I wasn't available 'til I got the grade."

"You're not available until your father sees the grade. One test is hardly enough."

"One test was enough to ground me. Be reasonable. It's not like I had a long string of failures and one C. I had one D and one B. I have a C average. Worse in homework, but the homework has been getting better longer."

"You'll have to ask your father."

She told him about the test at dinner. "That's fine, dear. I knew you had it in you."

"Is my grounding lifted? I have a C average on tests now."

"Of course."

"Then I can go to the dance tomorrow night?"

"I don't like it," her mom said, "that Craig didn't ask her until the day before."

"I told Craig I was grounded until my grades went up. He asked me as soon as they went up. Well, minutes after he found out. I hadn't told him that even after they went up, I'd still have to ask." Of course, they hadn't told her that she would have to, either.

"Well, Ruth, it's not as if she was his third choice. Why don't we let her?"

"All right."

The idea of dancing with Craig again, parking with Craig again, was delightful. The reality was a little less. The dance was fine. When they parked, however, her breasts were sensitive again. They'd missed the dance between her periods. After kissing for a bit and petting her breasts for a bit, Craig kissed her again. He pulled her against him, and the cloth of his shirt abraded her nipples. Then she felt his hand moving upward from her knee. She panicked at the thought of his touching her Kotex.

"Craig!" she said, breaking the kiss. She pushed his arm away. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm sorry. We can go back to what we were doing." That sounded selfish to her.

She looked at her watch; 10:12, and she was right out of the mood. "Why don't you drive me back, instead?"

He waited for her to adjust her clothes and get in the front seat. Then he drove her home. His kiss at her front door was brief.

She felt a little nervous seeing him lunchtime Monday. But he looked nervous about her, too. They soon were talking as easily as ever, and she invited him over to help with her geometry again on Wednesday. When she told her mom, the response shocked Sandy. "Well, darling, he's putting in an awful lot of work on your studies. Why don't you invite him for dinner first?"

So she called up Craig to invite him to dinner Wednesday night. He accepted with no nonsense about his having to ask first. They had pot roast, just as if he had been parents' guest. Everybody was pleasant, though Barbara asked what Sandy thought were too many questions about Linda. If Sandy had dominated the conversation when Barbara had a guest, her parents would have said something right then.

Her mom had put up a card table with two old kitchen chairs across from each other in the basement. "Mind if I move my chair to that side?" asked Craig. Well, you couldn't study geometry without looking at the same things. And they did study geometry. She was very conscious of him sitting next to her, of his right hand taking hers when he told her what to draw, of his left arm draped across her shoulders. Still, she also paid attention to what he told her.

Finally, he asked, "Think you can get anything more tonight?" She didn't think she had got anything in the last half hour.

"Not really. But I don't want to interrupt them until the show's over." Craig clearly saw the point of that. He kissed her immediately, but kept his hands outside her clothes for the petting. He must have been as scared as she was of somebody coming downstairs. When she heard footsteps overhead, they broke and she walked Craig upstairs and out the door. He thanked her mom and dad for the meal on his way. Their goodbye kiss was quite brief.

Craig called on Sunday to ask her to the next dance. Her mom thought the five days warning was quite gentlemanly. During the dance, Sandy decided that she would be gentle in pushing Craig's hand away from her leg. When they parked, Craig's touches on her breasts were gentle; his kisses on them were delightful. Sandy started to doubt that she would push his hand away. She wasn't wearing a pad, after all. They'd been going together for a long time; she'd find out what all the fuss about being petted down there was about. She thrilled to a long sucking kiss to her left nipple. Then Craig returned to her mouth for a long deep kiss. When he pulled back, he said, "Got to get you home."

Barb got mad at Linda for not writing. Barb had sent three letters and only got a postcard back. "After all, dear," their mom said, "she's starting a new school and meeting new people. You can't expect her to keep all her attention for you." Sandy found that this tone of voice sounded a lot better when her mom was speaking to Barb. She always hated having it used on her.

The next dance was at the end of her period. Still, she was wearing a pad, which she didn't want Craig to know. When he touched her knee under her skirt, she placed that hand on her breast. The next dance, she'd be free. The next dance, she'd let him. The next dance, she'd see what the excitement was all about. It was still petting, after all.

The next time they danced together, though, was at her birthday party. By this time, all her classmates preferred dancing to games. She was the hostess, though, and her parents were stricter than the teachers who chaperoned the school dances. Dancing with Craig matched the excitement of opening her presents, even so.

"Thanks for the party," she said to her mom the next night.

"You're welcome dear."

"I'm sixteen now."

"Eleven o'clock." Back when she'd been young, she'd thought her mom knew things about her by magic. She hadn't had that thought often recently, but she did right then.

She needed to use the new curfew for two dances before she brought up the subject of going steady. And, then, she'd have to find a way to let Craig know. Still, dancing with Craig was sexier when she knew that they would be parking for half an hour longer. She would tell him as soon as they were in the back seat. How far would she allow his hands? Anywhere but her panties themselves, she decided.

This dance was still by the old rules, though. When they'd had the first two dances together, Craig left. She danced one fast dance with Don, and then Charlie came over for "Ghost Car." He sang along under his breath:

"They wouldn't take bail, they'd hold him in jail
Doing hard time for five years or ten.
Instead he crashed his car through the rail
To never pull over again.

"People there tell how they heard him yell
As his car tumbled downward from them:
"Though the cops try to chase me through hell,
I'll never pull over again."

"I think," Charlie said, "that's my favorite song. Thank you for the dance." They stood talking for a minute, and -- then -- the next record came on.

It was "Honey Bee." "Excuse me," she said to Charlie. This was her and Craig's song, and it wasn't played that often anymore. They'd dance it together. She couldn't find Craig for a minute, though. Could he have gone to the boys'? Should she stand still and let him find her?

Peggy Cameron was singing: "You should fly along with me" when she finally saw him. But he wasn't looking for her. Instead, he was dancing with Nancy. Craig was dancing with another girl to their song!

Sandy made it to the girls' without sobbing. She hid out in a stall while she cried silently. She carefully washed her face and freshened her lipstick before she returned to the dance floor. She needed a boy who was in her class, who wasn't some girl's steady, and wasn't with a girl. The first boy she saw that fit these requirements was Bill. She smiled encouragingly at him. They made small talk for a minute or two before it occurred to Bill to ask her for a dance. He never figured out that he could ask her for a second.

Craig wandered back. "May I have the next dance, please?"

"I don't know, Craig. I'm feeling tired. You dance, though. I bet Nancy is free."

He went off and Charlie came by again. "Charlie, do me a favor. Dance the next dance with me."

"That's doing myself a favor, Sandy." And, when Craig saw her, she was tight in Charlie's arms. Charlie asked her for another one, and she danced a fast dance with him. The next dance was the last of the evening; Charlie didn't ask her, and she ducked into the girls' before Craig could.

"What did I do?" Craig asked her when they got in his car.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I think I have a headache. Could you please take me home?"

"Well!" her mom said. "This is a surprise. Want to talk about it?"

"No!" She didn't want to talk about it with anybody, ever. She ran to her room.

She went back to her room the next day after breakfast. Her mom knocked on the door some time later. "Yes."

"Look, Sandy. You might feel like moping around, but you still need to do the wash." Working together, they stripped and made the beds. She got the dirty sheets and the contents of the hamper down to the basement and put the first load in the washer. She stayed downstairs, putting "Sweet Lies" on the record player.

When it was over, she listened again.

"Those aren't tears in my eyes.
Rain drops fell from the skies.
I won't miss your sweet lies. Those aren't tears in my eyes.

"Once you said that you loved me true
And felt for me what I felt for you.
But that was just what you would say
To any girl on any day.

"Those aren't tears in my eyes.
Rain drops fell from the skies.
I won't miss your sweet lies.
Those aren't tears in my eyes.

"It was of love that you would talk
As we would stroll along the walk.
It was long before I could see
Your love was for you not for me.

"Those aren't tears in my eyes.
Rain drops fell from the skies.
I won't miss your sweet lies.
Those aren't tears in my eyes."

There might not be tears in Peggy Cameron's eyes, but darn well were tears in Sandy's eyes. She lay on the couch and cried. That song perfectly expressed the undependability of boys. She got up only often enough to start the record over until the washer stopped. Then she transferred the sheets to the drier, put the second load in the washer, and went back to the couch. The last load was in the drier when her mom called her to lunch.

"Playing one song awfully often, aren't you?" her dad asked. Sandy hadn't known the music could be heard upstairs when the washer and drier were running. 'Course, she'd had the volume up for that very reason.

"It just fits my mood," she replied.

"Well, you're done washing aren't you?"

"Yes."

"I could barely hear it over the washer, but it bothered me then. It's much easier to hear over the drier. I don't want to hear that record again."

"But, dad."

"If I hear that record again, I'll take it off the turntable and break it."

"If you want to hear Peggy Cameron," Barbara put in, "why don't you play 'Honey Bee'?" She would have to say that! Sandy sat there crying for a minute, then she ran up to her room and sobbed her eyes out.

Some time later, her mom came upstairs. "Look, I don't know what's bothering you, and you don't want to tell me. But the last load in the drier is done. When I went down there, you'd done nothing with the clothes. They have to be sorted out and folded or hung up. Now get back down there and finish your chores."

Nobody understood her. She went down and slaved away.

Monday, she got to the lunchroom after Craig. She chose the last seat at a table of all girls. At the end of school, Craig came up to her when she was talking to Carol. He asked, "Feeling better?" She turned her back and kept talking to Carol.

"What did he do?" Carol asked when Craig had walked away from them.

"He left me. He was my date; they were playing what had been our song. He danced it with Nancy."

"'Had been'?"

"We don't have a song anymore. I don't want to hear 'Honey Bee' ever again."

"I thought that was your favorite song."

"Was!"

She never saw Craig going out of school after that, and they sat at different tables for lunch. The last time they talked was when he called her up on Saturday to invite her to the dance the next Friday. "I'm sorry, Craig. I'm busy that night. Goodbye." And she hung up.

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She considered going to the dance without a date, but that was too much hassle. She stayed home instead.

That Monday, Charlie walked her direction when he left English. "I didn't see you at the dance," he said.

"I didn't go. I didn't have a date."

"Well, see you. Got to get to shop."

A week later, he walked in her direction again. "Do you have a date for the dance this Friday?"

"No."

"Would you go with me?"

"Yes."

"I'm late for shop again. You go out the Oak Street entrance?"

"Yes."

"See you then."

She had a boy to talk to after school, again. Craig no longer used that entrance, which meant that the only time she had to avoid him was at lunch. Charlie went out that entrance Tuesday and Wednesday, too. Thursday, she didn't see him. Friday, he was back. "We're going out tonight?"

"Yes."

"I have your address. When should I come by?"

"How about seven?" Her mom and dad would probably want to meet him.

She mentioned that to them that night. "Remember how you wanted me to dance with other boys?"

"Yes," her mom said, "although I'm surprised you do."

"I remember all you tell me. Anyway, I'm going to the dance with another boy tonight. Charlie Delray. Do you want to talk to him first?"

"We most certainly do," her dad said. "We want to talk to him before we say you can date him."

"Well, you wanted me to dance with him. I've been dancing with him for years. And we're in some of the same classes."

She was ready to throw a screaming fit if they didn't let her go. It would get all over the school. It didn't happen, though. The ride in Charlie's Jeep was far from as smooth as Craig's family's Chrysler. It was Charlie's car, though.

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Charlie left her only to get them cups of Kool-Aid and to go to the boys'. So much for her parents' rule of dancing with different boys. She didn't mention it, though. They hadn't mentioned it to Charlie.

They had mentioned the 11:00 curfew, though. And Charlie drove directly to a make-out spot. They weren't the first cars there. Craig, at least, had looked for privacy. "I know this is a first date," Charlie said, "but the front seats in the Jeep are really impossible. You'd be more comfortable in back."

"Okay," she said, "but treat that 11:00 as when they call the cops. Try to get me back a little after 10:30." She climbed into the back seat. Charlie kissed her lips for a while before inserting his tongue. He didn't put his hands on her breasts, but his arm rested against her right breast when he held that arm. He wasn't a bad kisser, but she was more nervous than aroused. He got her back before 11:00 and kissed her before she got out and went into her house. He'd been right; the front seats made it awkward.

She and Charlie were a couple. Craig and Nancy were soon a couple. Well, she'd dumped Craig before he could really dump her. Charlie drove to school, living far enough away to make it reasonable. At least, it was reasonable in bad weather. He took to driving her home, which wasn't reasonable at all. It was a short walk except when she had to walk farther with one of her friends because they had something important to talk about.

The second time that Charlie took her to a dance, he lifted her arms around his neck. The nicest girls didn't do that, and she was about to move them back. Then Craig danced past and looked shocked. She kept them there. Charlie held her close and moved them around. She clung to him. She felt his stiffie against her stomach, as he could probably feel her hard nipples against his chest.

That night in the back seat of the Jeep, Charlie felt all over her breasts. When he began to unbutton her sweater, though, she felt exposed. The Jeep was so high off the ground that they might as well have been on a stage. "Come on, Charlie," she said and buttoned herself up again.

"Come on, yourself, Sandy. Don't tell me Craig never did that."

Well, he had, but not on their second date. "Way up here, all these cars around, I might as well be on display."

"These isinglass windows aren't that easy to see through. Look out." That was true. But the front windshield was plain glass and huge.

"I still feel exposed."

"Those kids are minding their own business."

"Well, leave my buttons alone."

"Kiss me again." She did. He gave her a French kiss and kept his hands outside her sweater.

On their next date, he danced with one hand fully on her seat. He drove her to a more hidden spot. As a matter of fact, the last bit was off the road and terribly bumpy. "Nobody's around," he said. They got in the back seat to kiss. Soon he was unbuttoning her blouse. Well, she'd almost told him he could if he'd find a private spot.

His kisses were exciting, his hands on her breasts more exciting. When his tongue left her mouth, he kissed her ear, her neck, her shoulder. When his hand went behind her back, though, she trapped it against the seat. He stopped kissing her to look at her in the dim light. She shook her head. Charlie took his hand away.

These days she knew what her damp panties meant. And she had been excited. Why shouldn't she let Charlie stroke her bare breasts? Craig had, and look how Craig had treated her. Charlie was going awfully fast, of course. Still, she was in the tenth grade now, not some little baby. Next time, maybe she would.

And, next time, she did. The dance after that, Charlie sucked on her nipple. It was exciting; her panties were damp when she got home. In the shower the next morning, though, that nipple was still a little tender.

A snow storm blew in while they were in school one Thursday, surprising everybody. Everybody was standing at the entrance, wondering how they were going to wade though the drifts on the sidewalk, when Charlie came out. "Sandy!" he said. "Wait here. I'll drive as close as possible."

He drove right up on the sidewalk. "Can you drive Sue home, too?" Sandy asked when she was in the Jeep.

"For you, sure."

Sandy called Sue over, and got out so she could get in the back. Charlie drove to Sue's house before taking Sandy home. Again, there was the clumsiness of allowing Sue to climb out while the Jeep was buttoned up. "Gee thanks," Sandy said when Charlie reached her house. Having a boyfriend who drove a Jeep was suddenly a social benefit. They closed the school next day. They also canceled the dance that night, quite unnecessarily. Most of the streets were plowed by then.

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For Christmas, she and Charlie gave each other scarves. It was a coincidence. Her gift to him was to keep him warm in winter; his to her was a fashion accessory.

Linda was, of course, home for Christmas. Barbara didn't have that much time off, which she had to split between the family and her new friends from the office. Linda came over twice, but Sandy avoided her. She didn't want to hear about Craig.

After Christmas, the weather turned cold. Her family's house kept warm enough, but the furnace at school didn't put out enough heat. She wore warm sweaters and long stockings to class. She was taking driver's ed in the worst possible weather, though they were still in the classroom.

The first dance of the new year, the gym was warm enough, though. The exercise during the rock numbers was enough to work up a sweat, and Charlie held her close during the slow dances. Only her feet got cold. After the dance, however, the back seat of the Jeep was chilly. Chilly? It was darn-near freezing.

When Charlie began to unbutton her sweater, she pushed his hand away. "Charlie, it's cold enough with my coat unbuttoned."

"Okay," he said, "kiss me."

While kissing her, he pulled her coat closed. Then his hand went to her left knee. That was still chilly, but she'd said 'no' to his hand inside her coat. His hand moved up her leg until she clamped both legs together around it. Charlie broke the kiss. "Okay," he said. "Let go and I'll move it out." She was suspicious, but when she relaxed her legs, he moved his hand out from under her skirt.

Being quite open about it, he moved the hand back to her right knee. She moved her legs together, and he began massaging the top of her leg before pulling her back into the kiss. When his hand went too far, she pushed his arm away. Neither broke the kiss for that. Finally, he looked at his watch. "I'd better get you home; we've farther to drive out here."

The weather turned wet and stormy. Her mom asked Charlie to come back for some hot chocolate right after the next dance. Sandy was just as happy. Her own kitchen was much warmer than the back seat of the Jeep. Barbara, as well as her parents, disappeared when the hot chocolate had been drunk. She was bored with "77 Sunset Strip" this year, but Charlie seemed interested. They petted, but she wasn't sure she had all his attention. Maybe that was lucky; she could split her attention between him and listening for footsteps on the stairs. When the news came on, Charlie got more serious about the petting, although he left her blouse buttoned. She had to push his hand further down her leg several times. She couldn't say anything, of course; her mom and dad might hear. Heck! Barb might hear and never in a million years let Sandy forget. Then sports came on and Charlie paid attention to the TV.

Monday, when Charlie gave her a ride home, she mentioned it. "Look, Charlie, in my own home, with my parents upstairs . . . I mean, you could act like a gentleman."

"I'm sorry, Sandy. I thought you liked it."

"Some of it, I do. Not wrestling you where my parents can hear." Let alone her sister.

"I'll behave."

One of the secretaries at Barb's job got sick. Barb started typing sometimes -- if not regularly. "What I want to know," Barb said, "is when I'm going to get a raise."

"Don't think about that all the time," their dad advised. "People get paid what they're worth. Try to make yourself more valuable to your employer."

"And," Barb asked Sandy, "are you going to take typing?"

"Right after driver's ed."

"All those college-prep classes are a waste, you know." Barb was just jealous.

"Now, dear," their mom said, "the academic courses aren't just college preparatory. They're things you should know. I took Latin, and I never imagined I would be going to college." Since her mom was more or less taking her side, Sandy didn't say anything. It seemed to her, though, that Latin just meant that her mom had gone to school long ago. And it had been long ago, too. Most of her schooling had been before the war.

Sandy thought out how to deal with Charlie well before the next dance. Her mom had warned her that boys were out for only one thing. Her girlfriends sort of disagreed. Boys were out for whatever they could get. Sandy hadn't been sure earlier; Craig had almost had her fooled. Charlie, though, was out for whatever he could get. Well, Sandy liked some of it, too. But the girl had to set the limit. She decided that she would cross her legs in the back seat. That would limit what Charlie could get. And, when the weather got a little warmer, she'd keep Charlie above the waist.

She wasn't the only one who'd been doing some thinking. When she climbed back in the Jeep after the next dance, she saw a blanket on the back seat. It covered the right half of the seat, including the back. She sat on the blanket, which felt a little warmer than the seat had. "Lift up your coat," Charlie said, "and lean forward." Charlie got his right hand under the back of her coat, and -- soon -- under the sweater. When he'd unsnapped the bra, he said, "Now you can relax." He cupped her breast before kissing her.

The position was awkward, and not only his hand was chilly. But his fingers felt exciting on her nipple. And his kiss, at least was warm. When his other hand went under her skirt, she remembered to cross her legs. When their time was up, though, she had to get nearly undressed to redo her bra.

That Monday, Charlie asked her for a movie date on Friday. Her mom, who didn't quite approve of Charlie, appreciated the lead time. Valentine's day was coming up, and -- remembering the year before -- Sandy bought a card for Charlie. She was ready Wednesday, but Charlie didn't mention it. Thursday, Valentine's day itself, she had her valentine hidden in her English book. Again, Charlie didn't seem to know what day it was. By the time she got to the Jeep after school, she figured she wasn't going to get a card that year. Charlie wasn't all that romantic, but still . . .

When she climbed in the Jeep, though, there was a box in the seat. "Charlie. Is this for me?" It was a heart-shaped candy box.

"Let's see. It says 'Sandy.' Must be for you; only Sandy in the Jeep." Well, he might not be romantic, but he was generous. She dug out the card and gave it to him. The box, when she opened it at home, was quite elaborate. She shared the candy with her parents. Barb had received her own box from a guy at work.

When Charlie took her to Taylor's to see the movie, he led her to the balcony as if that was the only place to sit, but he chose the fifth row back. He gave her the popcorn box to hold and put one arm around her shoulder. He seemed to have the other arm under his coat. She wondered what he was doing, but then the main feature came on -- taking her attention. Soon after, she felt his hand on her knee. It was warm, the first time she'd felt his hand warm on her skin.

She looked around, but nobody could see. Maybe, if the people in the rows ahead turned around, they could see something. But they didn't, and they wouldn't have been able to see much even if they had. She crossed her legs, putting the right leg on top as Charlie was sitting to her right.

This was the oddest situation. When they had parked, he'd been kissing her and doing a little more. At least she could think of it as time spent kissing. He didn't kiss her now; he was looking at the movie rather than looking at her. His hand barely moved on her left shoulder. But his other hand stroked her leg and squeezed it. Her feelings, which had begun as embarrassment and nervousness, grew into the greatest excitement she had ever felt.

She ignored the movie. All her attention was on Charlie's fingers as they brushed across the inside of her thigh. When he slowly withdrew his hand, she finally noticed the screen. Closing credits were rolling. There was a bustle around them, but neither of them suggested leaving. Indeed, they stayed through the March of Time and other short subjects. When the main feature started again, Charlie put his hand back on her knee. She checked the time. They didn't need to leave yet, but she didn't trust herself to watch the time when she hadn't even been able to watch the movie.

"Maybe we should leave now," she whispered.

"Really?"

"Really. I need to be home before the show is over."

When they got to the Jeep, she said. "This is freezing. Would you mind taking me right home?" He did. His goodnight kiss involved a hug so tight that she could feel his stiffie through both their coats.

Her panties were so wet when she got undressed that night that some had leaked through to her skirt. The next morning, her mom asked, "Enjoy the movie, darling?"

"Yes." Then she was afraid that her mom would ask about the plot. Sandy had no idea what had happened in the show after the first ten minutes.

"You came home early."

"Do you have any idea how cold a Jeep is in this weather?"

Her mom laughed.

After the next dance, though, she and Charlie did park. The blanket helped a little, and Charlie draped it over her back. His hand was cold on her leg again, and the strokes of his fingers were less exciting.

Having asked her to one movie, Charlie started asking her the weeks when there wasn't a dance. Sandy was sure that her parents would allow her to date on school nights; they'd allowed her to date Craig. But Charlie didn't ask.

Gradually, the weather turned warmer. Then it turned wet. A bad rainstorm hit while they were dancing during the second sock hop of March. "I'll get the Jeep," Charlie said at the end of the dance. "Listen for the horn." That was fair; she couldn't ask him to run back inside through this to get her. "You might want me to take you straight home," he added cryptically.

When she got in, she saw what he meant. The back seat was damp and the blanket looked soggy. There had to be a leak in the canvas. "I think I do want to go home," she said.

"I don't blame you," he replied. Their goodnight kiss was in the front seat, and brief. When she undressed that night, every article of clothing was wet, despite her raincoat.

When it wasn't raining the next week, it was threatening rain. Her mom made her take a raincoat to the movies Friday night, even though it wasn't raining. She was afraid that Charlie would think her the little girl her mom treated her as. Instead, he welcomed the coat. For that matter, he was wearing not only a jacket but gloves. In the theater, he helped her take her raincoat off before she sat down. He draped it over their laps so it covered the arm he thrust far under her skirt.

He got up at the end of the feature, which -- again -- she had barely seen. She would have been quite happy to have stayed through the short subjects, but she couldn't have said so. Petting was something she let Charlie do, not something she could admit to enjoying. Charlie, however, parked off the edge of a back road instead of taking her home. "The back seat," he said, "is dry now." And so it was when they'd moved there.

It wasn't particularly warm, however, and the blanket wasn't there. She should have brought her raincoat from the front seat. Still, Charlie's kiss was warm. So was his hand when he'd unbuttoned her blouse. Having been aroused by the petting in the theater, she welcomed Charlie's direct approach in the back seat. Soon, his mouth was on her breasts and his hand back on her leg.

When she finally looked at her watch, it was a few minutes after 11:00. She got back late, and her dad bawled her out. "But I got back early the last three dates, real early last week."

"And you didn't even go out last night. That doesn't mean you can stay out all night tonight. The curfew is just that. It's the latest you can be out; it's not an average. Have Charlie come in before your next date." Which meant, at least, that her dad wasn't going to keep her from dating.

"Does it have to be one boy all the time?" Her mom asked at breakfast the next morning. "You're too young to go steady. What happened to playing the field?"

"Dead with the dinosaurs. And I'm not going steady."

"Now darling, despite what you may think, I never saw a live dinosaur, and I did see playing the field."

"I hate to agree with Sandy," Barb said, "but she's right. Nobody who's anybody dates different boys for every dance."

Her mom dropped the issue. Sandy noticed that she had claimed to have seen playing the field; she hadn't claimed to have played the field.

Her Geometry grade, which had been a 'C' for the first marking period and a 'B' for the second, fell to a 'C' again. "That's all right," said her dad, "but I don't like the direction it's going."

"I haven't had a 'D' on a test since the first," Sandy pointed out. "If anything, this was a high 'C.' I won't fail." Charlie wouldn't be the help Craig had been on Geometry; he wasn't even taking it.

She had passed driver's ed, which was only the first step. Her dad drove her to the state facility, and she passed the test there. She drove back, although it was another week before she actually got her license.

Before the next dance, Charlie came in and was chewed out. He didn't say anything about it while driving her to the dance, nor there. When he parked, though, he said, "Maybe you should sit on the left side of the seat. That way, I can see my watch."

That was all right. She put her right leg on top, as that was the one closer to him. Charlie fumbled less unbuttoning her blouse with his right hand, but he had more trouble with her bra. Then he kissed her deeply again. The fingers of his left hand played with her left nipple while his other hand went under her skirt. He stroked her thigh while he kissed her right breast. She got more and more aroused as this went on.

He kissed her left breast, sucking her nipple into his mouth. At the same time, she felt his hand stroking the bottom of her leg. The arousal was wonderful, but the fright was worse. He was about to reach her panties, the bottom of her panties, the part that was already damp.

"Charlie, no," she said. She pushed his arm away.

"All right," he agreed. His hand went to the top of her leg and he kissed her mouth again. Not long after, he looked at his watch. "Better get you back," he said.

Typing was different from all her other classes. Most of the other students were seniors, more than half were senior boys. Apparently, girls who wanted to type for a living took typing for a year or two, like Barb had. The one-marking-period class was full of kids who wanted to type their themes for school. Well, she had a typewriter at home. It used to be Barb's, but her dad had paid for it and said that she could use it. For that matter, Barb had pushed her to learn typing; she was in no position to refuse to let her practice.

John, one of the seniors in her typing class, asked her to dance at one of the sock hops. All right, he was something of a drudge, but he was a senior. He didn't dance as well as Craig or Charlie did. "You didn't have to do that," Charlie said.

"Yes I did. Long ago, my mom and dad told me that I had to dance with other boys."

"Long ago. And you're my date."

"Well, if they don't ask me, I can't accept. But I danced with you when I was Craig's date."

That night, parked well off the road and under trees where only a Jeep could go, Charlie petted her more aggressively than ever. When his hand went under her thigh, she pushed it away again. He kissed her mouth, holding the back of her head and pressing against her lips. Then his hand returned under her thigh. When she pushed against his arm, he pushed back. Even though she used two hands, he got farther. He stroked the bottom of her panties before he withdrew.

"Damn it, Sandy," he said when he'd let go of her head, "you're my date." Was that about his manhandling her, or about her dancing with John?

"I'm your date. You invited me to a dance. You didn't invite me to a wrestling match."

"Don't say you didn't like it, too."

"I liked kissing you. I liked your hugging me." She couldn't say she liked petting. "I didn't like you not taking 'no' for an answer."

"That's all you say to me. You didn't say 'no' to John." Apparently his anger was about both.

"I didn't say 'no' to dancing with you." How long had it been since he asked her for a dance, really? Well, that wasn't fair; he invited her to dances. Why was she trying to be fair to Charlie in her own mind when he'd just grabbed her where she didn't want to be grabbed?

They talked until it was time for him to drive her back, but they didn't get any further. She wouldn't have been surprised if Charlie dumped her, and she wouldn't have been all that sorry, either. After school Monday, though, he talked to her as though everything was all right. When they were in the Jeep, he asked, "Do you want to go to the movies Friday night?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Want to sit in the balcony?" They always had.

"Of course." Then they got to her house. Their talk for the rest of the week was about school. But her period came on Wednesday.

During the movie, she worried about his groping going too far, but Charlie kept his hand on the top of her leg. Indeed, his strokes seemed to be intent on exciting her rather than exploring her. Too often she had felt like exploration was his goal. Parking, though, was another story. "Do you have to cross your legs?" he asked.

"With you, I do. You don't understand limits."

"I understand them; I don't like them."

"All right. The limit for tonight is my belt. Stay above my waist."

"Above your waist?"

"You said you could understand limits." And she didn't trust him to obey any limits with his hand under her skirt.

He laughed. "But no limits above your waist? None at all."

"Don't hurt me."

"Sandy, hurting you is the last thing I would do."

He kissed her while he was unbuttoning her blouse. "Take it off," he said when he broke.

That was reasonable. "Okay. Give me a minute." She removed her bra, too. "Kiss me again," she said when she'd put them both over the back of the front seat.

He kissed her, tongue exploring her mouth while his hands explored her breasts. Then his mouth took over from his hands. He kissed all over her breast, ending at the nipple. If he was a little less thorough on her left breast, he was as gentle. He held it in his hand while he kissed and sucked on her nipple.

"I have to get you home," he finally said. She dressed before climbing back in the front seat.

After school on Wednesday, Mary asked her over to do homework together. "Can't tonight," she said. "We're buying groceries."

"Can't your mom get them herself?"

"She lets me drive. Only time I get to drive all week."

Charlie was silent during the discussion, but -- when they were alone in the Jeep -- he asked, "Want to learn to drive the Jeep?"

That would be a real accomplishment. Her dad's car was an automatic shift. But . . . "Tonight?"

"I wasn't thinking about that. The parking lot is empty on Saturday."

"I'd love to, but I have chores."

"I'll call, and we'll set up a time."

She told her mom, who was surprisingly agreeable about her doing the wash at another time. Charlie, though, didn't mention it again all week.

After the dance on Friday, he parked in their usual hidden spot. She wondered whether he would ask her to take her blouse off again. It wasn't as cold as it had been, but the back of the seat would be chilly against her skin. She crossed her legs again. Charlie's hands didn't even go to her blouse. During his first kiss, his hand went to her knee. He stroked back and forth on the inside of her thigh, going a little higher each time. Well, there was no pad to touch this time. When his hand touched her mound, he broke the kiss. "Oh Sandy," he said, "I love you."

She should have said that she loved him, too, but she wasn't sure she did. Instead, she grabbed his head with both of her hands to kiss him more deeply. When she was kissing him, he couldn't complain about what she didn't say. He kissed back, and his fingers explored her mound through her panties. Then he went back to stroking the inside of her thigh.

Saturday she stripped the beds and made them with her mom. She even had most of the first load in the washer when her mom called her to the phone. It was Charlie. "We talked about a driving lesson. Is this a good time?" Could she?

"I'll ask." Then, covering the phone, "Mom, could you put the clothes in the dryer when the washer stops?"

"Sure."

"I'll finish up the wash later. I want to learn to drive Charlie's Jeep."

"As long as your chores are done today, and your homework is done by tomorrow night."

She went back on the phone. "Give me fifteen minutes, okay? I'm in the middle of some things I have to do."

"I'm not quite ready myself," Charlie said. "I wanted to give you some warning. How about twenty minutes?"

"That would be fine." She hung up.

"You're not going on a date dressed like that, are you?" Her mom asked. She was wearing jeans.

"It's not a date, mom. He's going to teach me how to drive his jeep."

She finished loading the washer and turned it on before going up to the bathroom to freshen up. As she'd told her mom, it wasn't a date; still, being seen by a boy called for lipstick.

She was ready minutes before Charlie beeped for her. He drove her over to the high-school parking lot. They had the whole place to themselves.

They needed it, even though Charlie put the Jeep in low gear. Turning the steering wheel was nothing like turning the wheel in her family's Chevy. She remembered that both her arms hadn't been able to push Charlie away when he didn't want to be pushed. After wrestling with this steering wheel, she understood why his arms were so strong. When that was less of a struggle, Charlie started her on changing gears. When she stalled the Jeep out, he collapsed in laughter.

"You think it's so funny?"

"Happened to me at first. Try again." She did and it got better. The Jeep's clutch was much less smooth than the Chevy's, and the gear shift on the floor was something she had to get used to. Finally, Charlie said, "Enough for one day. Drive over there and park facing the school." She did and turned the engine off. Charlie climbed in back, and she followed him, having trouble with the gear stick once more.

Charlie kissed her before starting to unbutton her blouse. She knew the school was empty. Even if somebody had been there, it would have been hard to see into the back seat of the Jeep from the windows. Still, all those staring windows made her nervous. But Charlie had been generous. When he'd undone her buttons, she said, "Let me." She slid off the blouse and removed her bra completely before putting the blouse back on. She didn't button it.

While Charlie was kissing her breasts, he began sliding his fingers over her jean-clad legs. He couldn't possibly feel anything; these weren't even worn thin. But he seemed to enjoy the touch, and -- after a bit -- so did she. Finally, she grabbed his hair to bring his head back up for a deep, satisfying, kiss. "I left the clothes," she said. "I have to get back."

"Okay," he said, "straighten your clothes up." He watched her get back into the bra and blouse before giving her a kiss and getting into the driver's seat. She tucked her blouse back into her jeans in what privacy his being in front gave her.

"Sandy," her mom said when she got home. "Remember that driving lesson that wasn't a date, so you could wear jeans?"

"Yes." Remember it? It had ended minutes ago.

"Well, that non-date seems to have messed up your lipstick. Clean yourself up before your father sees you." When she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, her mom was right. She straightened it all up before coming out. She couldn't guess what her dad would say if he saw her. Even so, her mom seemed more amused than angry. She would never figure out her mom.

She did laundry very carefully, though, until every sheet was folded correctly and every shirt and dress hung up. When news came on TV, she went to her room to do homework. She figured that being a good girl would compensate for taking off for the driving lesson.

"Another lesson next Saturday?" Charlie asked when she got in the Jeep Monday for the very short drive home.

"Thanks," she said. "But I'm sure not going to put on lipstick again."

"I'm not special enough."

"You're special enough to put on lipstick when you're going to see me. But you smear it something awful." Not that she hadn't done some of that smearing herself.

Charlie laughed. "That's okay," he said. "I'd rather taste you, anyway, than the lipstick. Movie Friday? I should have looked to see what's playing."

"Movie Friday." Who cared what was playing? They didn't go to the movies to see the movies.

In the theater Friday, Charlie stroked her leg quite gently, but very excitingly. Afterwards, he said, "When you didn't want me to touch your legs, I didn't. Right?" Well, several times she had objected. One of those times he had cooperated. She nodded. "So this time, do it my way. Don't cross your legs."

Well, if she really did it his way, she'd end up pregnant. Her mom had been clear about that, and Sandy had no illusions about Charlie. That was a greater advantage for him over Craig than the Jeep was. She'd believed for the longest time that Craig really liked her. She knew that Charlie liked her body. "I won't cross my legs this time." And if Charlie did too much, she could always slap him.

He kissed her then. If her legs were open to his assault, that didn't make him forget her breasts. He kissed her and unbuttoned her blouse. She leaned forward while he unsnapped her bra. Only when he was kissing her breast did his hand go to her knee. Then his strokes and kisses returned her to the excitement she'd felt in the movie theater. When he leaned over to suck her left breast, his hand touched her through the panties. Her mound had been bad enough; this touch was right on her labia. He broke his suction to say, "Sandy, I love you."

She was too involved in her sensations to answer. His fingers stroked her most sensitive parts while his mouth sucked on her right nipple. Her excitement spiraled upward. She could tell that something was wrong, but she couldn't stop him. And then everything was right -- more right than she had ever felt before.

"Oh, Sandy." Charlie said. He held her. Sometime later he asked, "Can you lean forward?" She could, just. He snapped her bra for her, having some trouble doing so. "Tell me when to start driving," he said. He left her for the front seat. What time was it? 10:45, a little after.

She struggled to button her blouse and tuck it into her skirt. "Let me get in front." When she'd settled in, he started the Jeep and sped to her home. It was eleven on the dot when they pulled up. She got out immediately and ran in.

"You're late," her dad greeted her.

"One minute?"

"Two."

"Well, that's not much."

"Eleven is a deadline. You were late." But he didn't say more, and she escaped to her room. She had a lot to think about.

Charlie called to invite her to a driving lesson the next morning. "You can't," said her mom. "You broke curfew last night." That was unreasonable. She'd been one minute late.

But it was just as well. "Thanks, Charlie, but I can't. They're being picky about the curfew. I'll see you Monday."

"See you Monday."

She'd always thought of her house chores as incredibly boring, even more boring than school. They did have an advantage, though, when she had things to think about. Running the washing machine and drier, even folding or hanging up clothes, didn't take your attention. She thought about what she'd felt the night before. And about what Charlie had said and done. Maybe Charlie did love her; maybe she did love him.

She could deal with the clothes while thinking about that. Homework, on the other hand, was impossible. She opened her history book that night after dinner. Then she thought about Charlie. When she had demanded that he back off two weeks before, he had, and what Charlie wanted to do, after all, brought her pleasure. That might not be why he wanted to do it, although it really might. But what he wanted to do certainly brought her pleasure. And that pleasure, those sensations. . . . It was past her bedtime when her mom knocked on her door. "Sandy. You need your rest."

"Yes, Mom. I'll finish tomorrow." She looked down at the book before closing it. She hadn't turned a page.

She turned off her light and went to bed. The thoughts of her date with Charlie still churned in her head, but there was no sense fighting or sneaking to stay up. Her memories didn't need the light.

She drew her hand onto her thigh where Charlie's had been. With a little practice, she could evoke the same feeling his fingers had. But he'd gone further. And, when she went further, there were no panties in her way. She stroked as he had, and then more gently. Finally, her arousal spiraling upward, she stroked more firmly. She felt again what she'd felt in the back seat of the Jeep. Satisfied, and very tired, she dropped asleep.

Her nightie was still around her waist when she woke up Sunday morning. The rest of Sunday, she struggled through her homework and thought about the previous two nights. Monday, it was a struggle to keep her mind on the class work. But, then, it often was. She may have blushed when she saw Charlie in English class.

By the end of the day, she had her emotions under better control. On the short ride home, neither she nor Charlie talked about what had happened on Friday.

Tuesday, when she got in the Jeep, Charlie said, "Dance Friday?"

"Of course."

"Sorry I forgot yesterday."

"That's all right."

In bed that night, she thought about the dance. Or, rather, she thought about what would happen after the dance. Would Charlie want to touch her there again? Would Charlie! Charlie always wanted to. The question was whether she wanted him to. Really, she did. He'd begin with touches to her breasts. She touched them herself, through the nightgown at first. Then she pulled the nightgown up so her fingers could brush the nipples lightly. She kept her left hand up there when her right hand went to her lower lips.

The gentle strokes were delightful at first. Then firmer strokes dipped into the moisture between them. This increased her excitement until her finger rubbed over something sensitive where the lips ran together. At first, this hurt. But a soft touch felt delightful. When her tension increased, she pulled the pillow over her head. It was delight, terror -- but still delight. Then it was over.

Some time later -- she was too sleepy to look at her clock -- she woke up stiff without the pillow under her. The creases of her nightgown were hurting her. She stumbled to the bathroom and used it. She washed her hands and quietly returned to bed.

Wednesday was shopping day. By the time she and her mom had returned, Barb was home and her dad was due any minute. Thursday, she vacuumed her room as soon as her mom started the meal. "I've got the vacuum out," she told her mom in the kitchen. "Do you want me to do your room, too?"

"That would be lovely dear. And the hall? You probably should leave Barb's."

"Okay."

She left the vacuum running in her parents' room, while she got Ideal Marriage out from its hiding place and tossed it under the pillow on her bed. When all the rugs had been swept and the vacuum put away, she hid the book where nobody would find it. She was a little late setting the table, but her mom didn't complain. After all, she'd been doing housework.

That night when the news came on, she went up to her room. She put her history book on the bed before getting Van De Velde's book out of its hiding place. Once in bed, nightgown hiked up above her waist, she explored herself with her fingers under the guidance of the descriptions in Ideal Marriage. If her mom popped in, she need only pull the history book over the other one.

She started off a lot drier down there than she'd been on Saturday and Tuesday. The outside was the labia majora, which felt her fingertips as much as those fingertips felt them. Inside those were the labia minora, thinner and even more sensitive. Where those met was the clitoris. She couldn't quite feel the shape the book showed, maybe because it was the most sensitive of all.

The original neatness didn't last. And as she satisfied her curiosity, another need became more urgent. Before she yielded to that need, she got up, returned the book to its hiding place and the history book to her school pile, and visited the bathroom. Back in bed with the light off, she stroked all the parts she'd explored earlier. She pictured Charlie doing the stroking in the back seat of his Jeep. Finally, just before she got to the peak, she pictured Craig doing the stroking in bed beside her.

She felt a little guilty about that thought the next night at the dance with Charlie. Then, when Craig danced past with Nancy, she didn't feel guilty at all. She pressed herself against Charlie. His stiffie hardened into her belly. Which would have shown Craig if he could have seen, and did tell Charlie that she was his girl -- the kind of girl that he wanted.

That night, in the Jeep, she took off her blouse and bra again. She didn't, however, cross her legs. Charlie took her to the same heights she had taken herself, maybe greater heights.

Monday, in the Jeep, Charlie said, "Movie Friday?"

That was a little casual for a date, but it was an invitation. She'd be wearing a Kotex again, but she'd deal with that. "Yes."

"Are we going to the prom?" Which, at least, showed he was thinking more than a week ahead. The prom was weeks away.

"I don't know. You haven't invited me."

He grinned. "Sandra, would you do me the honor of being my date to the prom?" It was the first time he'd called her anything but 'Sandy.'

"Why, Charles. I'd be pleased."

He concentrated on the steering wheel as he turned into her driveway. When the Jeep stopped, he held her arm. "That out of the way," he said, "we need to plan." What was to plan?

"I don't think the back seat of the Jeep would go with a prom dress. Do you?"

Thoughtful. Charlie could be thoughtful! "No."

"The seniors will be thinking of motels, but I know you better than that." None of the seniors she knew would think of motels. "I'll ask if I can borrow my dad's car. You ask what your curfew is on prom night."

"I'll ask. . . . We're not in a hurry, are we?" she asked suddenly.

"Not really."

"Mom is more reasonable some times than others." Or, at least, less unreasonable.

"Oh. Sure," he agreed. She got out and went inside.

Having asked for Charlie's agreement for a delay, she found she needn't take it. "Are you going out again Friday?" her mom asked at dinner.

"Yes. Charlie already asked me to a movie."

"Can you skip the driving lesson? Really, Sandy, we wanted you to learn driving at school."

"I learned driving at school. They don't teach you how to drive a Jeep. It's not as if I'm going to go through stop signs 'cause I learned from Charlie." That was what Mr. Davis thought important; at least, it was what he seemed to harp on in driver's ed class.

"Well, I need you for Spring cleaning this weekend."

"Okay. I'll tell Charlie. Talking of Charlie, he wants to know what my curfew is for prom night."

"He asked you already?" Sandy could never understand her mom's emphasis on being asked in advance. She wasn't going to go with anybody else; Charlie wasn't going to take anybody else.

"Yes. And he said he'd try to borrow his dad's car that night. A Jeep doesn't fit in with a prom date, somehow." Actually, a prom dress didn't fit in with climbing into the back seat of a Jeep. "Neither does an 11:00 curfew. The prom goes to 11:00."

"All right. Midnight."

"Now, Ruth," said her dad. But he didn't say any more. Sandy had permission.

Climbing into the back seat after the movie, Sandy said, "Keep your hands above my waist tonight. Okay?"

"Well, you set the rules."

"I have to do housework Saturday," she continued taking off her blouse. Charlie needed some reward for being agreeable.

"Don't you usually?"

"More housework. Spring cleaning. I won't be able to get out for a driving lesson."

"Well," Charlie said, "if you can't, you can't." He was being agreeable tonight.

"And the prom curfew is midnight. I know it's the last dance of the year, but let's not stretch those limits. Dad wasn't happy."

"I won't. You are pretty like that."

And, restricted to her breasts, he paid them attention with his mouth as well as his hands. She was aroused when she got home, but the pad prevented her attentions as thoroughly as she'd prevented his.

After the dance a week later, Charlie was the one removing her blouse and bra. He kissed all over her breasts before reaching between her legs. His strokes, even through her panties, were arousing. He sucked her nipple and stroked her lips steadily until she peaked.

His hand was still there when she came back from wherever she'd gone. "Sandy," he said.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

This time it was inescapable. "I love you, too."

"Oh what you do to me!" He removed his hand from her crotch and grabbed hers. He moved it to his crotch.

He pushed it against the zipper and the hardness underneath. "Your stiffie?" she asked.

He laughed. "That's a hardon." He released her hand.

"Well, I don't like to feel it." Which was a lie. She'd enjoyed feeling stiffies -- hardons, she supposed -- against her at dances for years. She did not enjoy having Charlie pull her hand around as if he owned her.

"Okay. It's almost time." And she got dressed as he moved into the front seat. "Lesson tomorrow?" he asked when they got to her house.

"Sure."

And they did have a lesson, if a somewhat shorter one than the last. She mastered the gear shift; the steering wheel was easier. When they got in the back seat, Charlie kissed her before unbuttoning her blouse. His mouth on her breasts and his hand on her jeans was exciting, but it didn't bring her relief. It seemed to go on for a long time, before he said "Want to drive back?"

"Sure," she said. They were probably late. When Charlie left her, however, it was for the right front seat. He'd meant that she would drive. And, if her progress was a bit ragged, she didn't hit anything.

"Thanks," she said getting out of the Jeep. "Thanks a lot."

Her mom pointedly looked at her watch when Sandy came in the door, but she didn't say anything. Sandy ate lunch and finished the wash. When she sorted out the clothes from the hamper, she saw a new set of fancy underwear. It must have been Barb's. She couldn't believe the bra gave much support; the cups were one layer of sheer cloth. And the panties couldn't have covered much. Well, she wouldn't say anything to her mom.

After the next movie, Charlie moved her hand to hold his hardon.

He did it again after the dance. "Move your hand back and forth," he said. "You got yours."

She blushed at his crudeness, but she had 'got hers.' "Like this?" she asked.

He took her hand and moved it up and down over his zipper. "Like that."

"I don't like your pushing my hand around. Tell me."

"All right then. Like that but hold me a little harder. . . . Good. Now move it up and down." She kept moving until he stiffened beside her and gasped. His hardon jerked under her hand. Then he took her wrist to shove her arm away. "Thanks," he finally said. "I have to get you home."

Her mom took her shopping for her prom dress. Sandy could hardly object since she didn't have enough saved to buy it herself. Sandy wanted a strapless model, like Barb had worn for her senior prom. "Not until you're a senior," her mom said. Maybe Sandy would save up enough to buy her own dress her junior year. And something not quite so innocent as the pink of this dress. She did get a strapless bra to avoid the embarrassment of having people see her bra straps when the dress shifted.

Charlie showed up in a Ford and carrying a rose for a corsage. It didn't quite go with the pink of the dress, but it didn't really clash either. When he pinned on the corsage, Charlie pressed the back of his hand against her breast. Her mom and dad couldn't see, but it still was daring.

The prom was magnificent. She got along fine in high heels now, even if wasn't really used to them. Charlie understood that they had to dance formally rather than with her arms draped around his neck. After the dance, Charlie parked rather close to other cars. He couldn't get the Ford into the place he'd found for the Jeep.

She got into the right side of the back seat, for once. Charlie kissed her deeply. Then he moved her to leaning forward while he continued the kiss. He unzipped the dress and unsnapped the bra before his hand moved up to hold the bottom of her breast. When he pulled the dress forward, her bra fell nearly to her waist. He cuddled her breast through the fabric while he pulled the dress straps down with his mouth. He kissed over her breasts while his hand stroked the insides of her thighs. "Move forward a little," he said. When she did, his hand cupped her most private place.

Finally, he sucked her nipple while he stroked her through the panties. After she had peaked, he pulled his hand out. He kissed her forehead. Trained, she moved her hand to his crotch.

"Just a minute," he said. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. Then he unzipped his pants! She was shocked. "This is my suit," he said. "I don't want to get anything on it."

He pulled out his hardon as if this was nothing. Then he pulled her hand over to hold it. She was offended, but she was curious, too. It was warm, almost hot, in her hand. And it was soft on the surface, but hard underneath. With a little coaching, she moved her hand up and down along the shaft until it pulsed in her hand. Something squirted out the end.

Carol had been right, one part of her mind noted, it wasn't at all like pee.

Charlie caught the spurts on his handkerchief. He wiped himself off. Last, he handed her his -- now rather messy -- handkerchief to wipe her hand off. They separately got themselves dressed again, except that she needed his assistance with the zipper. On the way back to her house, Charlie threw the handkerchief out the window.

There were no more dances, and Charlie only took her to the movies once before finals took the attention of both of them.

However much she had resented Charlie's pulling her about, she missed what his hands could do to her. In her bed, late at night with the lights off and the sheet drawn over her in the warmth, She would remember his lips and his fingers on he breasts and below. She stroked her breasts and pulled on her nipples, then she parted her lower lips and stroked there. As her excitement grew, she imagined that it was Charlie's hand on her breast, Charlie's finger on her clitoris.

Except one night, when she pictured Craig's finger there instead. She felt guilty at that thought, but she felt excited, too. Her climax that night felt better than any she had brought herself before, better -- even -- than the ones Charlie had brought her.

She got a C in geometry another in history. She got an A in typing, and all the rest of her grades were Bs.

Her dad drove to work, and so she could never drive during the week. One Saturday in mid June, he was fixing a cabinet hinge for her mom, but couldn't find the screw he needed.

"Want me to get it?" she asked. Nothing good was on TV.

"Well, thank you," he said. "I don't like to go out dressed like this. I'd be grateful." So with a sample screw in hand, she drove to the hardware store.

Standing in the aisle was Craig! "Sandy!" he said. "Why are you here?"

She showed him the screw. He went down an aisle to boxes and boxes of screws. He picked out one box and showed it to her. It looked like the same kind of screw. "You sure he wants a Phillips head?" Craig asked.

"He wants one just like that. They have to match."

"Well, that's what you've got." When he walked over to the cash register, he got behind the counter and waited for the owner to finish with a customer. Sandy realized that Craig worked there. "Look," Craig said, "this is a bad place to talk. May I call you?"

"Sure."

He didn't call until Monday morning, though. "Sandy," he said when she'd got on the phone, "this is Craig Schmidt."

"Hello, Craig."

"Are you still mad at me?"

"I wouldn't say I was ever mad at you." Not with her mom listening, she wouldn't.

"Well, maybe saying it would have helped. You know, you never told me that you thought that was our song."

It had been the first song they'd danced to. Sandy didn't think she needed to point out things like that. 'See that bright light up there? That's the sun.' "If I didn't, how do you know?"

"You never told me. You told plenty of other people when you were mad at me." Well, she may have mentioned it once or twice.

"So? . . ."

"So, I didn't mean to hurt you. Your dad told me that I had to dance with other girls. You were there. I danced with another girl. You dumped me." That wasn't quite how it had gone. But she wasn't mad at Craig anymore.

They talked until her mom made her hang up the phone.

Craig called again the next day. "Look, it's a nice day. I want to talk. Your mom doesn't want us tying up the phone. Want to meet me in Spencer Park?"

"Okay."

"The entrance on Benson nearest your house." Whatever she'd thought of Craig, it was typical of him that he chose the entrance which was easiest for her.

"Meet you there."

Once there, they walked until they came to a bench with nobody around. "You work at the hardware store?" she asked.

"Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from 12:00 to 9:00. Saturdays, from 9:00 to 9:00. You'd think that hardware stores wouldn't do much business weekdays when men are at work. You get an entirely different trade then, carpenters, plumbers and such who know precisely what they want. I'm only now learning to find what they need."

She'd missed talking with Craig. She'd leave the issue of dancing their song with another girl alone. After all, he wasn't her boyfriend; Charlie was her boyfriend. Craig was a boy who was, once again, a friend.

They talked until it was nearly time for lunch. "Thursday?" asked Craig.

"Thursday."

Charlie called that afternoon, inviting her to the movies on Friday. "Want to go for some burgers, first?"

"Thanks." She told her mom. Being -- whatever her mom thought -- grown up, she told her rather than asked her. She couldn't simply not show up for dinner.

Thursday, she and Craig filled each other in on what they'd done in school. "You had typing for one marking period," Craig said, "I'm going to take that next year. What was it like?"

She told him. "Remember you used to fill me in on the teachers?" He did. "Now I can do the same for you."

"Yeah. And I'm grateful."

"Don't tell mom, yet. But I think I'll take typing for a whole year. Miss Maxwell says I could. I'd start out ahead, but repeating the first practices would be good for me."

"Why not tell your mom?"

"She wants me to take French. Really, she wants me to take Latin, but she knows that's a lost cause."

"French isn't so bad."

"It's absolutely useless. Mom took Latin; she never uses it."

"And you're a girl."

"Meaning?"

"I'll admit I haven't seen one. I don't think I could read one, anyway. But there are supposed to be real racy books in French." Of course, Craig would never suggest that she was the sort of girl who would ever want to read a racy book. And, being a good girl, she would never hint to him that she might want to. Anyway, there were racy books in English. Her girlfriends sometimes passed them around with bookmarks at the good parts.

She and Craig talked about their (rather nebulous) hopes for life after school and their struggles with their parents. Her mom was a full-time homemaker, which made the amount of work she expected from Sandy ridiculous. Craig's mom still worked at the supermarket, mostly days like his dad. Linda had a summer job. So Craig often had the house to himself when he wasn't working.

What she didn't mention to Craig was Charlie. It was none of his business, of course. When they parted, they agreed to meet again Tuesday.

When they got to the drive-in Friday, Charlie told the girl that there was no way she could fit the trays onto the jeep; she should just bring the food. At the movie, she somehow felt more exposed with Charlie's hand under her light skirt. Nobody was looking, but they could have seen more if they had.

Parked afterwards, Charlie helped her off with her blouse and bra. He pushed her skirt up so his eyes, as well as his hand had access to her panties. After his strokes had brought her relief, he moved her hand to his zipper. "Open it," he said.

Was she going to rub his hardon again? Was this their new standard? Well, he was willing to take care of her needs. She opened the zipper, with a little trouble. She pulled his hardon through the slot in his shorts. "Careful," said Charlie. If he wanted it to be handled carefully, he could do it himself.

Charlie had brought a bunch of napkins from the drive-in. When he spurted, he caught most of it on two or three of them. Then he handed her another to clean off her hand. He let his napkins go into the air streaming around them when he drove back. "Look," he said when they were getting close to her house, "the movie isn't that important, is it?"

"Well, no."

"How about, we go out again Wednesday? Tell your folks that you're going to the movie again. We can pick up some food at the drive-in and eat it someplace else. Stupid to have a Jeep and only go where cars can go."

She wasn't so sure she wanted to lie to her mom, although she sure wouldn't tell her how she'd spent the last hour. She was being hard on Charlie, though. She knew him well enough to know that, since he never minded lying, he didn't think he was asking anything of her. "Okay," she said quietly, "it's a date."

And, she realized when she was in her bed at home, it was a date to go petting. She was nervous Saturday telling her mom about the new date, but she didn't hear any objections.

Tuesday looked more like the first of March than the 25th of June. When she met Craig at the park entrance, the sky was dark and the wind was gusting. Shortly after they sat down, a few drops of rain began to fall. She didn't want to stop talking now. "Can we move under the trees?" she asked.

"Too much danger of lightning. Look, want to come back to my house? Nobody's home."

Did she? Go into a boy's house when nobody was home? What if the rain got heavy and Craig got insistent? What was she thinking? This was Craig, not Charlie. Craig wouldn't get insistent. And indeed, in the hours that thunder rolled overhead and rain poured against the windows, Craig never so much as touched her. They did split a bottle of Coke.

"Sandy," her mom said when she got home, "you should have called."

"Well, you knew I was going to be with my friends." It had been years since she told her mom which friend, which was lucky since 'I was in Craig's house' would have led to her murder. "I couldn't leave until the rain let up."

"Are you hungry? Did you have lunch?"

Typical of her mom. She should answer 'Yes.' But she didn't. "I'll fix myself something."

"There's soup on the stove."

Craig hadn't touched her, hadn't even kissed her goodbye. But, that night in bed, she thought of all the other possibilities. He held her tight, his hardon pressing into her back. While she struggled, one hand went to her breast and the other went between her legs. Where had her jeans gone? She didn't know, but her hand met naked flesh. So his hand would too. She imagined her struggles and his explorations until her feelings peaked. She dropped back in the bed.

With all the work she'd missed the day before, and being scheduled to miss the evening as well, she slaved hours for her mom on Wednesday. She took too long in the tub, and Charlie was waiting inside for her when she came down.

"Yesterday," Charlie said in the Jeep, "I thought we might end up going to the movies after all." They couldn't have a picnic if the rain had continued. She hadn't thought of that; she hadn't really thought about Charlie while she was with Craig.

They got burgers, Cokes, and milk shakes at the drive-in. She held all the food while Charlie drove to a secluded field outside of town. He spread a blanket on a dry, and rather high, clearing in the woods. She felt a little exposed there, but she could understand. Anything lower, and -- especially -- anything actually under the trees, would still be soggy.

They finished everything but the milkshakes before Charlie kissed her. Soon, her blouse was open and her bra unsnapped. Charlie pushed her down flat while he kissed her breasts. In this position, he gave equal attention to both of them. But he raised her skirt above her waist before he finally kissed her nipple.

His hand stroked her thigh, rubbed her pantied lips. She was getting excited, getting close. Lying down, without the awkwardness of the Jeep seats, was better. She nearly panicked when she felt Charlie's finger on her lips under the panties, but the feeling was even more thrilling. Then he stopped all contact.

"Lift up," he said.

"What?" She felt his hands at the waistband of her panties.

"Lift up. We can't do it while you're wearing these."

Do it? Her arousal was replaced by deep fear. Charlie was stronger than she was; she had no idea how to get home if he didn't drive her; nobody could hear if she screamed. Well, he wasn't threatening her yet. She pushed his hand away and pulled her skirt down. She got up and straightened her bra.

"What are you doing?" Charlie asked. Stupid question, but that question was better than a demand or a threat.

"I'm getting dressed." She buttoned up her blouse. Should she tuck it in? No. That involved unsnapping the waist of her skirt. She got her milkshake and sat down as far from Charlie as she could on the blanket.

"You can't leave me like this." Well, if she didn't want to walk miles -- and miles in which direction? -- or hitchhike, she couldn't leave him at all. "Look at how hard I am." Oh.

"Do you want me to do you?" However little she'd enjoyed it in the past, she would be glad to get all of his stuff somewhere outside of her.

"Would you?" Now he sounded like she was in control.

"Stand over there." She gestured toward the end of the blanket facing what looked like the thickest part of the woods. He was bright enough to face that way. She grabbed the napkins before walking up behind him. "You take it out."

When he did, she reached around to grasp it. She stroked slowly just as he had taught her. When he finally spurted, most of it sprayed the field. What got on the blanket or his shoes was his problem. She wiped her hands on the cleanest napkin before handing him another.

She sucked the remains of the milkshake through the straw before looking at her watch. "The movie isn't over yet."

He looked at his watch. "I know. And do you really want to get back long before 11:00?"

Not really. But, compared to spending hours more with Charlie, "Sure."

He didn't argue. Probably he was as eager to get away from her as she was to get away from him. They sat on the blanket talking about teachers they both had while the sky darkened above them. She'd often regretted that Charlie didn't talk to her as much as Craig had. Now, at the end of their relationship, she was getting the talk. She didn't enjoy it.

Alone at last in her own room, Sandy began to re-experience the arousal that had disappeared in her panic. Charlie had held her there; he had rubbed her there. Would Craig ever do that? Probably not. She had ruined her relationship. But she could dream.

Craig was so much gentler than Charlie was. He'd touch her more lightly. She brushed her nipples one after the other as lightly as possible. She stroked her labia as lightly as she could stand, then the clitoris. Only when her tension overcame her decision, did she rub harder. The excitement peaked. "Oh, Craig," she breathed into her pillow.

"You were home early last night," her mom said the next day after Barb and her dad had left.

"You complain when I get home even one minute late."

"I'm not complaining. This is your house, you can come home any time you want. Not from school, of course. Want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

Still, however plainly she'd been told that there was nothing to talk about, her mom kept looking ready for Sandy to confide in her until Sandy escaped to the park. She was sitting on a bench when Craig came along.

"Sorry, am I late?" Craig asked.

"I just wanted to get out early. And I didn't want to phone."

"Want to walk or want to sit?"

She got up, and Craig companionably fell into step beside her. Her mom, who demanded housework and not conversation from her all the time, had insisted on talk as soon as she saw that Sandy didn't want it. Craig, who had come here specifically for talk, walked quietly beside her. She wished he would take her hand, but -- she understood -- he didn't yet know he was allowed to. When they got near to the park gate closest to his house, he finally spoke. "Want to head back?"

"What I really want is another Coke. Do you have another bottle in your 'fridge?"

"Sure." Craig might be shy, but he wasn't stupid. "Want to come home to get it?"

When he opened the door, he gestured her in. He moved the paper off the couch and asked, "Want to sit here?"

"I broke up with Charlie yesterday." Well, actually, it was last night, but Craig didn't have to know that. 'Night' suggested all sorts of things she didn't want him to know.

"That's too bad. For you, I mean. You don't have a boyfriend now?"

"No."

"Does that mean I'm allowed to kiss you?"

She looked at him with her mouth puckered. He took her in his arms for a gentle kiss. But he didn't let go, and the kiss got more intense. She held him, too, and welcomed his tongue in her mouth.

They were still holding each other when he drew his mouth away from hers. "I've wanted to do that for the longest time, since we broke up, since I saw you dancing with Charlie when you wouldn't dance with me. Well, I wanted to earlier, too, but -- you know -- I could. Not as much as I wanted to, though."

Well, if he'd wanted to all this time, why was he stopping now? And soon his mouth was back on hers. His hands left her back to hold her face, and then to stroke her ears gently. When he broke the second time, it was to lead her over to the couch. He sat down beside her and ran his hands through her hair while kissing her again. His mouth only left hers to cover her face with kisses, then her right ear and the side of her neck. His hand cupped her breast through shirt and bra, then pulled away as though he'd been burnt.

"Tell me when I can't," he said.

"Don't leave hickeys."

He laughed. He held her breast once again while they shared a deep kiss. Then he unbuttoned her shirt and shoved it off her shoulders. His kisses moved onto her shoulder. She was cramped in the shirt, and she could feel that one button was still buttoned and hidden by the waistband of her jeans.

"Give me a minute," she said. Immediately, he pulled away. She stood up. What would she let him do? Anything that she'd let Charlie do. Craig wasn't moving too fast; he was making up for the time that Sandy had lost for them. Darn! Since she was wearing jeans, Craig couldn't do some of the things Charlie had done. Well she opened the jeans a bit to get at her shirt. Let him take the hint. She took off the shirt and her bra. Walking right in front of where he was sitting, she pulled his face against her breast. He kissed it, kissed her hard between her breasts, pulling her into the kiss by her rear, moved over to the other breast and kissed up to the nipple. He sucked there for a moment before he leaned back.

"Come back," he invited, He pulled her wrist toward the sofa before dropping it. When she sat next to him again, he kissed her again. His tongue was in her mouth as his hands were all over her breasts.

They couldn't make up for the time that they'd lost, but they tried.

Finally, he stopped. "I never did get you that Coke."

"That's okay." She wasn't thirsty. Hungry maybe, but not particularly thirsty. Hungry? She looked at her watch -- nearly noon. Her mom would expect her for lunch. "I have to get back, though."

"Can I walk you?"

"Through the park." She didn't want her mom looking out and seeing Craig. She thought Sandy was with her girlfriends.

Craig pulled his shirt out of his pants while Sandy was getting her clothes in order. He turned his back while she opened her jeans to tuck her shirt back in. "One last kiss," he said. She could feel his hardon press into her stomach while his tongue played with hers.

Whatever he had said, they had three more kisses on their way through the park. They were soft kisses, though, what you could do in public. After the last one, he kept hold of her hand. They were walking hand in hand, just as she had wanted. At the Benson entrance, though, he gripped her hand hard. "I don't want to leave you," he said. Well, she didn't want to leave him, either, but she didn't want her mom finding out. "Tuesday?" he asked. Friday, he'd be working in the afternoon, Saturday all day.

"Sure. Here or at your house? If I can get away earlier, I don't want to wait out here."

"My house. Sandy, I love you." This kiss wasn't suitable for a public place. He not only had his tongue in her mouth, he had his hands all over her seat.

Her mom complained about waiting lunch. "Well, mom, you won't have to next Tuesday. Carol is going to make lunch for all of us." She had several friends with the name Carol, and -- if her mom started calling around -- she knew other kids at school with that name. "Anyway, what do you want me to do tomorrow and the weekend? I don't want to come home early Tuesday."

Offered more work, her mom swallowed her other objections. She laid out some tasks. "And you know, dear, you're home now. Doing laundry on Saturday is a bother."

"You want me to do it tomorrow?" Well, she'd offered.

"No, but Monday is the more usual day. Could you keep Mondays free?"

Craig worked Monday. "Sure."

"Then we won't do the laundry Saturday. Maybe we can do something as a family. We never do anything as a family anymore."

Well, it would be better than housework.

Her panties were damp, uncomfortably soggy. She changed while she was in the bathroom. Sometimes, darn few times, she was glad she was the one doing the wash.

That night, she remembered how Craig had kissed her and caressed her as she brought herself some relief.

Saturday, she had a picnic with her mom and dad. Barb begged off. Eating on the blanket brought unpleasant memories, but she couldn't share them with her mom and dad. Saturday, Sunday, and Monday nights, she imagined Craig's actions more and more explicitly. He wouldn't do that, of course, and she wouldn't let him do everything. She'd let him do what Charlie had done, though. Craig had been her boyfriend longer.

"Sandy," her mom said as she was heading out of the house Tuesday. Was she leaving too early? Her mom couldn't want her to do more housework after she'd slaved away all weekend and done the whole wash Monday.

"Yes?"

"You're going to a friend's house? You've been invited for lunch?"

"Yes."

"Do you have to dress like that?"

"You want me to wear a blouse and skirt?"

"You should look your best. You've been invited to lunch. You don't have to look like your family are bums. Where are you going when I'm talking to you?"

"To change." Some days her mom was so dense.

While changing, she thought suddenly of Barb's sexy panties. But there was no way of borrowing them now. She didn't know where Barb kept them, and her mom would hear if she snuck into Barb's room.

She didn't quite run on her way to Craig's house, but she didn't waste any time either. "Am I too early?" she asked when he opened the door. He was in a tee shirt and jeans. The living room, though, was almost painfully neat.

"No. We're all alone. You're dressed fancy."

"You like?" She twirled around.

He shut the door. "I like. Come here and I'll show you." The kiss was sweet.

Still, sweet as his kisses were, it must have been an hour before his hand was on her knee. She spread her legs to welcome it. He kissed her breasts and stroked her thighs. When his hand finally reached her panties, he raised his head. "Oh, Sandy," he said.

"Oh, Craig."

He moved off the couch and helped her lie down. That way, he could kiss her everywhere. He even kissed her belly button. He was kissing her mouth again when his strokes on her labia took her to the peak. She pulled his head into a deeper kiss and soared.

Then she relaxed. His hand, no longer moving, remained on her panties. He kissed her forehead, brushed her hair back, kissed it again. "Close your eyes," he said. When she obeyed, he kissed each eyelid. Then he kissed the bridge of her nose. When she'd got her breath back, he kissed her mouth again. His tongue was as sweet as ever.

When he broke that kiss, leaving her short of breath again, he said "Turn over." When she did, he kissed up and down her back. He was stroking her thighs again, the backs this time (she found that the backs of her thighs were surprisingly sensitive), without ever stopping his kisses to her back. His hand was on her seat when he kissed the backs of her ears.

She shivered when he kissed the back of her neck. He kept kissing there, the bones in back and where it joined her shoulder, while he stroked her labia through the panties again. Her excitement climbed. She was almost there when he said "Turn over again."

Then he kissed and sucked on her nipples while rubbing her through her panties until her peak hit her. He kissed her forehead again while she gasped for breath. When she recovered, she hugged him. He held her shoulders, the top of his body lying on the top of hers. "Sandy," he said once in a while.

"This has been lovely," he said finally. Did he want from her what Charlie had? Well, he deserved it. And he didn't grab. "This has been lovely, but what time do you have to get back?"

"I told mom that Carol was going to give me lunch."

"Well, Carol isn't here. Want me to feed you?"

"Want me to make it?"

"Well, I can cook. Maybe I should show you where things are."

"And what your mom would miss."

She put her blouse back on to cook, not bothering with the bra. That made their kisses feel different, sexier. And kisses sexier than Craig's usual was saying a lot. "You know," she said when they sat down for toasted cheese sandwiches and Cokes, "you gave me my first real kiss."

"Back at Barb's birthday party?"

"You remember?"

"I remember," he said. "I remember you. I remember our talk, and our first dance, and our first kiss."

"Well that was my first kiss, well, first kiss kiss. Mom and Dad don't count." She'd played spin-the-bottle, too; but those didn't count, either.

"For that matter, I remember our second dance." They stopped talking to remember it. And she remembered their last dance, wishing she hadn't. Probably he did too. "I called up Nancy Sunday," he said.

"And."

"I told her that being her boyfriend didn't sound like a good idea just now."

"You dumped her?"

"I hope not. She doesn't deserve it. She's a nice girl; she just isn't you. But we're not going together anymore. I mean, I'm not going with you; I don't deserve to be called your boyfriend, but I'm not some other girl's boyfriend, either."

"That's what we are. Two loners, but friends."

"Want more Coke?"

"Don't open another bottle."

"I'd better clean up. Mom would never believe that I used the fry pan."

"I'll do it."

"You can dry. I might not be able to cook but I can wash dishes." He kissed her again.

"You know, I feel odd like this."

"You feel wonderful, and you look beautiful. I can just about see your breasts like that."

She stretched and thrust her breasts out. The blouse pulled against them, and he did look. Then they worked together until the kitchen was spotless. He washed and dried his hands at the kitchen sink before giving her another kiss. This time his hands wandered all over, ending at her breasts.

When he pushed a shoulder, she turned around. He held her from in back and kissed her hair. One hand cupped her breast, the other her mound. "With you," he said, "even washing dishes is fun." He took her hand and drew her back into the living room. She lay back on the sofa while he undid her blouse. He kissed everywhere, her face, her breasts, her stomach. He stroked her legs, taking the longest time to even reach her knees.

His touch was exciting, his kisses comforting, but her clothes were in an uncomfortable tangle. "Just a minute," she said and pushed lightly on his shoulder. He moved back immediately. She sat up and removed her blouse. Should she remove her skirt? What the heck! It wasn't as if she were trying to keep him away from what it covered. She removed it as well.

She stroked his back and chest through the tee shirt as he kissed her again and petted her again. She was enjoying everything, the feel of his muscles under her hands, the feel of his hands on her legs and mound, the feel of his mouth on all her exposed skin, the feeling of her arousal heading toward a welcome peak. Then he moved his head back to speak. "Sandy," he said, "may I?" His hands were on the waist band of her panties.

Much better than 'Lift up,' she thought while lifting up. Craig's finger parted her labia. Would the wetness disgust him?

"Oh Sandy," he said, sounding anything but disgusted. "Oh, love."

His finger brushed her clitoris. "Be gentle there," she warned, although he was being gentler than she had ever been.

"Oh yes. Tell me if I'm too rough. Oh, Sandy!" And it was 'Oh!' It was fire shooting through her. She stiffened and he held her mound in his hand. "Sandy," he said and kissed her breast. "Sandy," he said and kissed her forehead. "Sandy," he said and kissed her other breast, "I love you."

"I love you, too," she said. It was, she realized, true. You had to say it when the boy said it first, and being there -- alone, naked, with a boy in his house -- could only be justified by love. But it was true. She'd loved him for a long time; even when she'd hated him, she'd loved him.

He brushed her hair off her forehead and kissed it. "Close your eyes," he said. He kissed her left eye, then her right, then her left eye again. He kept kissing her forehead while she recovered her breath. All that time, his hand stayed on her mound. He was cupping it, not trying to excite it. Rather than exciting, that touch -- intimate as it was -- was comforting.

He hugged her. When her energy came back, she hugged him. Then she pulled his face to hers and kissed him. Her tongue was in his mouth, this time, and the touch of their tongues was as exciting as ever.

She let go and sat up. She was naked, wearing only shoes, socks, and a watch, in his living room. She'd never been naked in her own living room. It felt right, though. "I love you, Craig," she said again.

"I love you, Sandy. Do you? . . . Do you want to go up to my room?" Did she? Did she want to go all the way with him? For that was what he was asking. She did, in one sense, but she was scared, too. She thought for minutes.

She'd said that she loved him. She'd told herself that she'd give him everything that she'd given Charlie, everything that Charlie had taken. But this was something she had kept from Charlie. On the other hand, she did love Craig. He was still waiting, looking both eager and dejected. He must be taking her silence for a 'no.' And he'd take a 'no'; he wasn't even pulling at her arm or arguing that she had to.

Somehow, that decided her. She got up and picked up her clothes. She started for the stairs and then stopped. "I don't know where your room is," she said.

Grinning, he took her hand in his, kissed it once, and led her up the stairs. His door was open, and she could have told that it was his room. It was a mess; his bed wasn't even made. This was both a bit of a turn off and somehow reassuring. He hadn't planned this, hadn't expected this. He tugged the bottom sheet straight before coming back and kissing her. He helped her lie down and then tucked the sheet around her. Then he went to his dresser. He pulled something out of a drawer, and then messed around with a record player for a minute. Didn't he want to do this? Why was he leaving her like this?

Then the record started playing.

"Other bees have buzzed around my hive
But none till you made me feel alive. . . ."

He had their song!

He came back to the bed and kissed her before sitting down with his back to her. He stripped off his tee shirt first, and she stroked his bare back while he took off his shoes. Still with his back to her, he stood to strip off his jeans and underpants. Then he turned.

It wasn't the first hardon she'd seen, but it looked a lot larger and more blatant sticking out from his naked body than Charlie's had seemed peeking out of his fly when he was sitting down. She started, much too late, to have second thoughts.

He came over to kiss her again. This was, she soon decided again, right. He moved his hand under the sheet he'd covered her with. He stroked from her breast to her mound and back again. "The record," he said when the song was over. He went back to put the needle at the beginning again.

"Other bees have buzzed around my hive
But none till you made me feel alive
Honey, I want you to be, be, be
My honey bee."

He came back and got under the sheet with her. He kissed her again before opening something and rolling it on his hardon. "We," he whispered, "don't want any babies." He got between her legs, and kissed her mouth once before kissing her breasts.

"You should fly along with me
I want you for my honey bee
Honey, I want you to be, be, be
My honey bee."

His hand was down there, stroking her, parting her labia. He moved so his face was above hers. Then his hardon was right there. "Sandy," he said, "I do love you."

"My honey bee must never roam
Stay here by your honey's honey comb
Honey, I want you to be, be, be
My honey bee."

And he was her honey bee, and he stung her. But the hurt was his love. "Oh, Sandy!" he said for one more time. Then he was moving in her. She felt him press against her down there, move back and press against her several more times. He pressed harder than ever, and she felt him throbbing in her center.

Still gasping, he moved so that his weight only pressed on her down there. "I love you," he said. "Are you all right?"

"I'm okay." It had hurt, but not all that much. And he was there to hug. She wrapped her arms around him. She sang,

"You should fly along with me
I want you for my honey bee."

He sang back, not badly considering his position and everything,

"Honey, I want to be, be, be
Your honey bee."