"Barb's having a birthday," Linda said. She always made a big deal about the advantages her 2 years gave her. Some of those advantages were real. The birthday party of her new 'best friend' wasn't.

"Yeah? I know. You're invited. I'm not. Whoopdeedoo."

"Wrong, Craig! We're both invited."

"And how did this happen? Why do I think it's something that works for your good, but you're going to try to sell to me?"

"Well, it more works to Barb's good. She wants a party of couples, but her little sister has to come. So, you get an invitation to the party and a date."

"Little sister? How little?"

"She's not that little. She's in 8th grade."

"She's in junior high. Even though it pains you to admit it, I'm in high school. There's a difference, as you told me a million times last year."

"Yeah. But look at the advantages you get. You get to party with juniors. You get a date. You get juniors seeing that you have a date."

"I have to buy a gift for a stuck-up witch who sneers at me whenever she sees me." Linda would tell on him if he used the B word. She knew what he meant by 'witch,' but she never reported his using it. "I miss 2 good shows on TV."

"Well, your showing up is really a gift for her. I'll get you something to give her, but you have to wrap it. Think of it this way; a favor for Barb is a favor for Tom. He'll see you there, and he'll know why. You want a Junior boy who will speak to you in the halls, don't you?"

Finally, he went. He expected them to play spin the bottle, and he had never kissed a girl with enough tits to touch his chest while they were kissing. They didn't play any games; they just danced. He expected Barb's little sister to be copy of Barb, a young snot. It wasn't like that at all. Sandy was nice. She knew he was in high school, and suddenly he was the older and more experienced person.

Sandy could do the twist, but the juniors wanted to hold their dates close, and few of the records could accompany the twist. He could do slow dances, the only advantage of having Linda as a sister, and he tried to get Sandy to dance one with him, but she was nervous around the better dancers. The cookies and Kool-Aid were good, and they mostly sat or stood talking and munching. She asked about high school, and he told her. They had Linda and Barb in common. Not only was her big sister like his big sister, both girls were in both houses enough that Linda had snubbed Sandy just like Barb had snubbed him. Not all their opinions were alike, though.

"I like the way your sister is wearing her hair now," Sandy said. Linda tried, not very successfully, to ape Mrs. Kennedy in all ways. She would have loved to have the dress budget, but she knew that Dad would never think of it.

"You do?" She had surprised him. "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." Well, it was getting time to go. Linda had paid for the present, but she had made it very clear that Larry was going to drive her home and that Craig had to walk home before they started. He hadn't argued. He had expected to be eager to leave the party early. With Sandy being good company, he was less eager to leave, but he had promised.

Then Honey Bee by the Cameron sisters started playing. Sandy started swaying to it. This was a good tune to leave on, and it was especially danceable.

"Come on," he said to Sandy. "There's nothing to it. Try dancing to this one. I'll have to go soon; I promised Linda."

She got up, and he led her to a place on the floor where there was some space. She knew enough about dancing to get into the right position. When he led off, she tried to follow the steps instead of his lead. Soon, though, she got the idea of following a lead. She wasn't as bad as she had said she was, and he liked having her in his arms.

"Want to walk me out?" he asked when the tune ended. He made his polite goodbyes to Barb and to Mrs. Jackson. Sandy walked him out of the door.

"This really has been fun," he told Sandy. "Much more fun than I expected." She was just standing there. So he kissed her. She didn't hold him or anything, but she did kiss him back. He let go before she pushed. "Goodbye, Sandy," he said. "Thanks for making this a fun evening." He walked away.

Sandy was a good kid. Still, she was a kid, in junior high while he was in high school. Debbie was his usual date if not his steady. Her parents wouldn't allow that, and his probably wouldn't have -- if they had been asked -- either.

Deb was very self-conscious about her tits, though they weren't big enough to deserve that much thought. She carried her books to hide them when she was in the hall. She bent forward to accept his kiss at the end of every date, moving her chest a long distance from his. They had one parent watching the kiss, and he could understand. He did remember, though, that little Sandy had kissed him back. Deb just stood there and let him kiss her.

When summer came, he didn't see Deb much. Mostly, he ran with the guys. There were lots of basketball courts in the park, and his crowd could generally get a hoop. Occasionally, bigger kids chased them off so that those guys could play on the full court. Most of the time, though, one group got one hoop and the other got the other hoop. He got the ball in a decent share of the times he got one off, but he was neither as tall nor as heavy as some of the others in his grade. That gave him trouble on defense. He was growing, though, and -- while Mom complained about the way he went through clothes -- he was glad.

Back in school, he and Deb dated again, but something was missing. He saw kids who couldn't get enough of each other's company, kids who held hands and touched other ways so that teachers were always on their case. Deb didn't want to be that close, and -- what was more worrisome -- he didn't want very much to be that close. Sure, he still wanted a feel of her tits, but that was wanting a feel of tits. Holding her hand didn't give him any particular charge.

Driver's Ed was given in two two-period sessions. He would have Plane Geometry or Chemistry in conflict with one of those sessions. It didn't matter now, but it would matter in the fourth marking period after he was sixteen. He figured on dropping one of the courses -- Plane Geometry for choice; it didn't seem to make sense -- right now. He'd have to take something else that didn't conflict, and starting at the beginning of the year in that course made sense. He mentioned this to Dad.

"You can't drop either one. You're going to go to college, and you're better at science. You don't want to take shop or some dropout course." Dad was making good money without a degree, but Craig had to fulfill Dad's ambitions.

"But I have to take Driver's Ed this year. I'm going to be sixteen in March." The books had Lincoln freeing the slaves, but all his friends agreed that it was really Ford who had done the job.

"You don't have to take Driver's Ed. You have the rest of your school time to learn to drive." Dad kept insisting that he had been a teenager once. The tooth-fairy story was more believable.

"Yeah. Right! So I have to flunk the course instead of dropping it. Well, I think I could manage that." That was his weapon. Dad and Mom cared more about his grades than he did.

"I didn't take Driver's Ed. Your grandfather taught me. Tell you what, pass all your courses up until then, and I'll teach you myself. And you won't have to wait 'til the fourth marking period. Get your learner's permit when you turn sixteen, and I'll start the next Saturday." That was a deal, and he agreed.

Early in the school year, he again saw the little girl who had kissed him back. He shouldn't have been surprised, though he was. She'd been a year behind him, and he was now in 10th grade. Sandy -- her name was 'Sandy.'

"Sandy?" he called. She looked around, but she looked puzzled. And a teacher on hall duty looked at him as though she planned to complain about the noise he'd made. He went up to Sandy before speaking again.

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

"Of course."

"So now, you're here. Where you heading?"

"Biology, and . . ." While he was two doors down from English class, biology was taught in the lab, which was down the stairs.

"Yeah. See you around." And they went their ways. Well, she was a good kid, and he kept his eyes out for her when he was going from History to English. He spoke or waved when he saw her.

Deb was getting to be harder to deal with. She wanted more attention from him, but she seemed to enjoy his attention less. They didn't get all that much time to talk. Her lunch was the period before his, and they only spoke for a moment before she had to get to class. Also Deb had to take the bus, and hers was one of the first buses to leave after school. Both of them were limited as to their phone time, and some days Deb had used up her time talking to her girlfriends before he could get her on the phone.

He owed Sandy nothing, and she knew that. She never asked why he didn't pay her more attention. She might be a little kid, but she was a good little kid. He started going out the Garret Avenue door like she did after school in fair weather. It was a little farther to walk but not all that much. She had some of the teachers he had had last year, and Mrs. Thomas for English. He had Mrs. Thomas this year, too. He could tell her a few things about how those classes operated, and she respected his knowledge.

They took to walking one block south before he turned right. She usually turned left then, but she could have walked straight 'til she came to her own street.

He'd always been good in math. He'd made 2 A s and 2 B s in his marking periods in Algebra. Plane Geometry threw him for a loop at first. If it didn't have any numbers in it, why was it a math course? Finally, he started to get the hang of it. Mostly, you were proving 2 triangles congruent. That was mostly the way you did anything else. So, the first thing you needed to know was: what were the triangles that you had to prove congruent? After that, it went easier. He got an A on his 2nd test.

If Geometry was hard to understand, Deb was impossible. One Friday, she wasn't anywhere he could see in the lunch room when he got there. He waited by the door until a teacher in the hall started to walk over to him. When he went in, she still wasn't anywhere to be seen. He decided to try to get to her after school. He went out her entrance, and she was there, but she was talking to Barry. He hadn't known that Barry rode a bus. Indeed, when Barry finally broke off, he went back into the hallway instead of toward a bus.

"Deb!" She was walking toward her bus, even though she had seen him. He ran to catch up with her.

"I don't want to miss my ride." She didn't need to worry. The driver wasn't even by the door.

"Well, what have I done"

"Nothing. That's just it."

"Are we going to the dance in a week?" He hadn't asked her yet, and her mom thought asking late was impolite. Maybe, they could talk at the dance.

"I am. I don't know about you. Barry just asked me."

"But what am I going to do?" She was his date. It might not be the hottest romance in the class, but it was their romance.

"I don't know, and I don't care. Wash your hair." That was silly, he had a crew cut, and he washed it every time he took a shower. "Ask that bratty 9th-grader you're always hanging around with, you're as much a baby as she is." The last sentence was said while she was climbing into the bus.

He fumed while he went through the school and out his entrance. The air was cold, but he felt hot most of the way home. Okay, he wasn't the coolest kid in the 10th grade, but Barry! Deb had dumped him for Barry. The guy had pimples on his pimples, and he was lucky to even hit the rim. And what was Craig going to do without Deb?

Well, despite her nasty way of saying it, she'd suggested Sandy. Sandy might be young, but she was nice -- one hell of a lot nicer than Deb was. Besides, Debbie had been demanding, and he didn't think Sandy would be. Still . . . He thought until he heard Linda come in the door. He caught her on the way to her room.

"You know Barb's phone number?"

"Yeah. She doesn't need you bothering her."

"Well, I thought I might call her sister, Sandy."

"Jeez! You've really stopped pretending. When I got you a date with Sandy, you complained that she was too young for a big, grown-up, high-school student like you. Now, you want to talk to her. You're admitting that you're a baby just like her."

"Well, in case you hadn't noticed, Sandy is in high school now. And, I did go to Barb's party and dance with her, and that was a favor to you. So what does it cost you to tell me?" Linda told him. Even so, he spent another ten minutes working up his nerve. Inviting a freshman was no big sweat; getting turned down by one would be. Well, Sandy had always been nice. He didn't think she would be impolite turning him down. Still, they would both know. So, it turned out, would Barb. She answered the phone.

"Barb? This is Craig, Linda's brother. May I speak to Sandy, please?" There was a click of the phone being set on something.

"Sandy! For you. Keep it short. I'm expecting a call from Mary." This was far away, but quite loud. A minute later, he heard Sandy's voice.

"Hi."

"Hi, Sandy, this is Craig Schmidt."

"Oh! Hi Craig." She sounded happy to hear from him.

"You know there is a sock hop a week from tonight?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you like to go with me?"

"Oh, Craig, that would be great . . . I mean yes." Well, he didn't think she'd meant no. So, that was settled. That night, at dinner, he got Dad to agree to drive them.

"What time?" Dad asked.

"Well, the dance starts at 7:00. 6:45? That should do it."

"Um? Is this your first date with this girl?"

"Sort of." After all, he'd been her date for her sister's birthday party.

"Well, I expect any guy taking out Linda for the first time to talk with me first. So, we should expect to leave earlier."

"Well, she didn't say."

"She another 10th grader, right?"

"9th."

"He's robbing the cradle," said Linda.

"Well, expect to talk with her father." Dad was ignoring Linda. Craig wished he could ignore Linda, too, but it never worked for him.

Sunday, though, the news was much worse. Sandy called him. Linda wasn't the only one thinking that he was robbing the cradle. Sandy's parents wouldn't let her go with him. And her mom had been so nice at the birthday party, too. Well, at least they weren't saying anything about him. They wouldn't let her date until she was fifteen.

"Will you be at the dance?" he asked. Suddenly, it was important that he dance with Sandy.

"I think so. I don't want to ask just now. I've been pushing too hard on this one." Which sounded like she wanted to dance with him, too. Maybe, though, she only wanted a date.

"Well, that might be for the best." Really, he wanted to be Sandy's friend, not necessarily her boyfriend. She was a good kid, but she was still a kid. So, he went stag to the sock hop. Sandy, however, did show up.

"You made it," he said. They talked for a bit, and a fast song came on. He led her out to the dance floor, and she moved well. The song after that was Honey Bee.

"You can do this one," he said. She'd danced it already in his arms. "Want to try?" She not only tried; she succeeded. She danced better than she had, but that wasn't all that had changed. When he held her against him, he felt two soft pressures against his chest. Her tits were even smaller than Deb's, but she didn't mind his chest touching them.

They took a break and drank some punch. She was a good dancer, and he told her so. He talked with some of the guys, and then danced with a couple of classmates, neither of them a friend of Deb's. He came back to Sandy for the last dance. It was Blue Velvet. As he didn't have a date, he'd told Dad that he could walk home.

He sometimes spoke with Sandy when he saw her in school, sometimes just waved. She was cool and didn't come over to bug him when he waved. The girls outside Deb's circle had decided he wasn't that awful; he danced with several at the next sock hop. He talked with the guys, too, but that isn't why you came to dances. He saw Sandy toward the middle of the evening and had a dance with her. Then he talked with her for a bit. He came back for the last dance.

He began treating Sandy as his almost-date at the sock hops. For one thing, the girls thought that most of the guys who came stag were losers. When he could talk or dance with Sandy any time he wanted, he didn't look like he'd come stag. For another, she was nice to be with. He danced the first dance or the first two dances, got her some punch, danced the last dance with her. Some of the guys teased him about robbing the cradle, but she was obviously a nice girl.

All the guys wanted to cop a feel, but the girls who would let you exacted dates to the dances as their price. (So did the girls who would put out, if you believed some of the guys. But Craig didn't believe any of the stories his classmates told about scoring. He wasn't even sure about the seniors.) Dating a nice girl meant that you weren't getting any of that, but it meant that you weren't buying anything, either.

Once, he saw Sandy dancing with Charlie Delray. He felt a twinge at seeing that, and thought about warning her. Delray was a sleaze. He'd seen him on the basketball court, although he was a 9th grader. He was all mouth and no moves -- a foul mouth, too. What he felt wasn't jealousy. Sandy was his friend, and he felt protective of her, almost brotherly.

Then Sandy invited him to her birthday party. She'd told him that she couldn't date until she was fifteen, and this was her fifteenth birthday. Linda was some help in selecting the gift, a charm bracelet. Aside from Barb and her Tom, everyone else who was there when he got there on Friday night was in the 9th grade. Sandy was busy the whole time, too busy to talk with him much, and he really didn't know anybody else except Barb. Barb only wanted to talk with Tom, and he didn't want to talk with her either. He did get to dance with Sandy, though, and he also danced with two other freshmen. Neither was any fun; they threw themselves around in the dances, but didn't seem to be dancing with him. He spent most of his time when she wasn't available for dances watching her enjoy herself. He stayed to the end, and Sandy walked him out.

"I had a great time." Oddly enough, it was true. Watching her be the center of attention was fun for him. When he reached to kiss her, she came into his arms. This kiss was grand, and he felt her press against him -- felt her press her tits against him. "I owe you fourteen more," he said, but she stepped back. It didn't feel like rejection. Indeed, it felt like she had enjoyed the kiss. Anyway, he was getting a hardon, and he didn't want her to notice it.

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

"They ought to," she answered. "Still, I haven't asked them." Well, no. She had to get the party out of the way first.

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

He went out her exit that Monday, and she was still happy. She didn't tell him whether she was allowed to date now, and he didn't ask her for one. Really, did he want her for a girlfriend? He wanted her for a friend -- he had her for a friend -- and she was a girl. Well, he also wanted more of those kisses. He wanted to feel those tits with something more than his chest, although he didn't know when he could. He didn't want another buddy; he had enough buddies. He seemed to want her for a girlfriend.

He looked the movies up in the paper at home, and one theater was showing West Side Story. That was a date-worthy movie. He checked with Mom whether she could drive him, and she was willing. She wanted to see it herself. Then she coached him on proper behavior in asking a girl for a date.

"Really, Craig, I think you got off on the wrong foot with Debbie." Well, Deb had gone wrong, and that might be it. Then, after dinner, he made the call.

"They are showing 'West Side Story' at Taylor's Cinema on Friday. Would you go with me?" he asked after Sandy came to the phone.

"I'll have to ask my mom."

"I'll hold the phone if you want to do it now." She set down the phone and was gone a long time. He suddenly had to piss, but he fought to hold it in. Finally, Mrs. Jackson got on the line.

"Where do you want to go with Sandy?"

"To see West Side Story. It's at Taylor's Cinema."

"And how will you get there?"

"Mom is driving us. We'll come by your house and pick up Sandy."

"And you'll come right back when the movie is over?"

"Sure." Where were they going to go with Mom driving? An ice cream afterwards would be damn awkward. Buying one for Mom would ruin her diet, and having her sitting there while they ate would put a real crimp in the conversation.

"I want you to come in and talk to us before Sandy goes out." Which sounded like a yes. They would hardly ask Mom to drive him over there and then turn him down.

"Yes, ma'am."

The next voice he heard was Sandy's. "She said 'yes.' What time do you want to get here?"

"Well, your parents want to talk to me. Do you think ten minutes will be enough for that?"

Sandy thought so, and they set it up that way. Mom didn't see anything odd with his having to go early, but she said that she would wait in the car.

Mrs. Jackson was there, but Mr. Jackson did all the talking. They were to come straight home from the movie, which he had already promised Mrs. Jackson. He was to treat Sandy with respect; he liked her, which he wasn't sure bore any relationship to respect, but he wouldn't try to feel her up, which was probably what Mr. Jackson meant. Sandy sat there looking embarrassed.

When they escaped, he walked Sandy to the car. He opened the door and waited until she got in the seat behind Mom, like Mom had coached him. Then he went around and got in the back himself.

"Mom," he said, "this is Sandra Jackson. Sandy, my mom."

"Hello, Mrs. Schmidt," Sandy said.

"Hello Sandra," Mom said. "You look delightful in that dress." He should probably have said something about that. Sandy looked pretty enough, although he didn't think the dress had anything to do with that.

Mom drove them to Taylor's and parked the car. He bought 3 tickets, although Mom had said that she would pay him for hers later. He bought popcorn and he and Sandy shared the box. Sometimes, their hands brushed when they both dug into the box at the same time. He liked the touch, but it didn't seem like Sandy even noticed it. The box was in his lap, and he started to get a hardon as Sandy's hand got closer to his cock while she dug deeper into the box for the last pieces. Mom was sitting behind them, and he was conscious of her although she didn't say anything. After Mom drove them back, Sandy thanked her and said good night.

"Wait here," he said. This was supposedly Sandy's first date, and she might expect to get out of the car herself. He went around, and opened her door. She was cool, and got out like she was used to that treatment. He stopped one step down from the porch, so their heads were nearly on the same level.

"Thank you for coming," he said.

"Thank you for asking me," she answered. "I had a wonderful time." She sounded as stiff as he felt, but she also sounded as if she really had enjoyed it. When he put his arms around her, she moved into the kiss. It was delightful, and he felt her tits against a different part of his chest. He got a bit of a hardon, but he wasn't in any danger of her noticing it when they were standing like this. As Mom had coached him, he waited until she was in the door before heading back. He probably would have anyway; he liked watching Sandy. As he was walking around the back of the car, he took advantage of being out of Mom's sight to adjust his hardon. He got in the front seat.

"Thanks, Mom."

"My pleasure. It was a great movie."

"Yeah. It was."

"And she seemed to be a very nice girl."

"Yeah. She is." Probably he and Mom meant different things by 'nice.' Well, part of what he liked about Sandy were things Mom could appreciate. She had a pretty face and a pleasant voice; she didn't regard herself as the center of the world. Part of what he liked about her were things he hoped Mom didn't notice. Sandy had tits, small tits, but delightfully soft ones. When he kissed her, she kissed back, and then her tits pressed against his chest.

They kept talking after school. When a dance was coming up, he asked her. Dad drove them to the dance and back. Teachers watched them; well, the reachers watched everybody, all the rest of the time. Still, Sandy looked good doing fast dances, and felt good in his arms during the slow ones. When he walked her to the door, she started to pucker up an instant before he moved into the kiss. She certainly looked like she enjoyed kissing him, though he couldn't believe she enjoyed it as much as he did.

Her parents raised problems, though, and he had to talk with them again before the next dance. They laid down the law. They couldn't dance every dance together. She had to dance with other guys, and they implied that he should dance with other girls. They didn't say anything about fast dances and slow dances, and he was careful not to raise that issue. They were parents, of course, and had probably stuck to waltzes when they were young enough to dance.

He asked Gail, who had been in English with him the year before, to dance "Rock Around the Clock," and Sandy was stuck with Charlie Delray. If her parents asked Sandy what dance she'd had with somebody else, that was probably a song they would remember. Still, while he liked Gail, he wasn't happy about Sandy dancing with Charlie. Her dad's rule was silly, but they all were forced to obey silly rules. He told her some of that Monday when they talked on their way out of school.

"Really, you know, 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 would really have been insulted if she would rather dance one dance with Charlie Delray than with him. He liked dancing with her, and he wanted her to like dancing with him. Of course, a lot of what he enjoyed about dancing with her was the feel of her in his arms and the sight of the different parts of her swaying when she was in front of him. He couldn't tell her that, and her enjoyment had to be different.

They went to see "The Guns of Navarone." It was a great picture, and he mentioned that the next time they walked out of school together. Her agreement was only polite, and barely that. Well, she seemed to like him, and he was just as glad to know how bad she was at faking her likes.

"What do you think is the best movie of all time?" he asked her.

"Three Coins in the Fountain," she said. "I loved it. Even the first time I saw it. I thought it was a great movie and a great song." He had thought it was soppy. Well, they couldn't agree about everything, and he could see some advantages to seeing a soppy movie with a girl who enjoyed them. Not that they were having more than good night kisses after movies. Still, his sixteenth birthday was coming up, and that meant freedom from parents in the front seat watching them. When they kissed, she acted like she enjoyed it, even though they only kissed on her front porch.

But the kisses were only icing on the cake. Sandy was a fun girl to be with, a fun girl to talk with. They walked part way home every day and talked on the phone when Linda wasn't hogging it and Mom (or occasionally Dad) didn't need it. He remembered how he'd sweated over his first phone call to her. Now it was the most comfortable thing in the world. He still hesitated about taking her hand, though when they were walking out of school together.

The locket for Sandy was one of the first presents he bought at Christmas, and the very first one he wrapped. (That was partly to keep Linda from seeing it, and he never put 'Sandy' on the package.) He hesitated about giving it to her, though. Finally, when school started up after Christmas, he finally did.

"I didn't get you anything," she said, but she said it as though she thought that she should have, instead of as though she thought he was breaking some rule.

"I didn't get it for you because I wanted you to give me something. I got it for you because I like you." And he did like her, the more for the way she acted just then. If she had kissed him in thanks, he would have been delighted. She didn't, though, and he wouldn't suggest it, since that would have sounded like he bought the gift for the kiss.

They went to the next dance. Remembering Deb, he was careful to ask Sandy in plenty of time. She had to dance with others, although she always accepted his request for a dance unless she had accepted another's first. He was careful to not ask her too often, and for one dance, and a slow dance, too, she came looking for him.

For the next movie, Dad left them alone in the theater. He took Sandy's hand, and she didn't object. Indeed, when the hero kissed the heroine on screen and he squeezed Sandy's hand, she squeezed his back. On her porch, though, he couldn't hug her closely in the kiss because Dad was watching.

"You like that girl, don't you?" Dad asked in the car. "Isn't she the only girl you date?" Dad was going to say something about her being too young. Sandy wasn't too young.

"The only one since Deb." Mom and Dad were all in favor of 'playing the field.' It sounded something like cheating to him.

"That was fairly early in the fall. Are you two going steady?"

"God no!"

"Don't take the name of the Lord in vain. And don't tell me that I do. I have lots of bad habits. That doesn't mean that you have to pick up all of them. What's so horrible about going steady with her? Looks like a nice-enough girl to me."

"Her mom and dad would have a cow. They make her dance with other guys, even when I take her."

"So, it's her parents' rule."

"Yeah, and I'm just as happy."

"You don't want to get tied down this early?"

"She wants more than her mom and dad will allow. I don't know how much she wants, and -- maybe -- neither does she. As long as she wants more than she can get, she wants me, and I want her to want me."

"Well, your words sound more calculating than your voice does. Just remember, you have a long time before you can afford to get serious. You're going to finish college." Dad and Mom had dropped out to get married, and he and Linda weren't going to be allowed to drop out. If parents hadn't done it, then kids couldn't; if parents had done it, then they would decide whether kids could.

At the next dance, Charlie got Sandy for a slow dance. He'd been too slow to ask anyone else in time. He watched them, watched Charlie hold her tighter than he had ever dared to. She didn't slap Charlie's face, and no teachers interfered. They were both freshmen, too. Still, he wanted more acceptance from her than not slapping his face would show.

He bought Sandy a valentine soon after they started showing up in the stores, and then thought better of it. You could give a Christmas gift to a friend; you only gave valentines to girlfriends. Then he thought it was a good idea. Then he figured it was a bad idea again. Finally, the day before valentines day, he handed it to her and then walked home another way.

She didn't say anything about it the next day, but she handed him a valentine just as he turned to go home. He nearly ran for the next block before he opened it. It was nice -- the stores had funny ones, too, and she hadn't selected one of those. He figured that this meant that she wanted to be his girlfriend, just as he wanted her to be his girlfriend. He buried the card under his mattress with his Playboys.

He wanted Sandy at his birthday party, and that meant other girls. He invited as many girls as boys, but many of them didn't come. He couldn't blame them; it meant buying him a gift, and what did they get out of it? Many of the girls came because they were going with one of his friends who would be at the party. One who didn't have that reason was Nancy Simmonds. That surprised him.

The important one was Sandy, though. Mom had nixed spin the bottle as a game, but she had no objections to dances. She did tell him, though, that he had to dance with each of his girl guests before he could dance a second time with any. "And by 'any,' I mean Sandy. Honestly, Craig, I think it's about time you invited girls to your parties instead of just boys, but I know why you did." Well, if she was glad he did, and she knew why he did, shouldn't she encourage him more?

She didn't, though. Either Mom or Dad was downstairs throughout the party, and they didn't act that way with Linda, who needed it more. Sandy gave him a tie, and Mom said it was a nice gift. Since they went to different churches, she wouldn't see him wear it. Well, guys wore suits to the prom, and he would take her.

He got his learner's permit, and Dad took him out the next Saturday, as he had promised. After drilling him about the brakes, the gears, and the ignition, Dad gestured for him to scoot over and got in the driver's seat.

"I learned on country roads -- a barnyard for starters. Where can we go that you'll have plenty of room to make mistakes in?" he asked.

"Well, the high school has a nice parking lot. That's where Driver's Ed lessons start out." So they went there. He made mistakes, but, as Dad had said, he had room to make them. Dad was critical when he went above 20, but he was incredibly patient when he stalled out.

"Look, Craig. You are going to make a million mistakes. The secret is to make them when I'm in the seat beside you and nobody is coming at you. The wrong time to make a mistake is when you're in fast traffic and Sandy is sitting here." Well, he wanted Sandy to be sitting there, but Dad was right. He didn't want her to be sitting there when he made mistakes. The third Saturday, Dad put him through his paces and then told him to speed up. When he was done, Dad didn't change places with him.

"Drive us home. Don't take the main streets. I'll tell you how to go." He didn't really need to give many directions, though. This was the way he walked home since he'd started leaving school with Sandy. They didn't take the main streets, either. He got home without a mishap. Then he overshot their driveway. "Well," Dad said, "that shows you how much you know and that it isn't quite everything yet. Back up slowly and go in slowly. Speed is your enemy."

When Dad was finally satisfied and drove him to the testing site, the guy administering the road test was much less exacting than Dad had been. He drove back, and mentioned that the guy hadn't been as demanding as Dad had.

"Well," Dad said, "I wasn't worrying about the road test. I was worrying about your driving. Allstate will buy me a new car. They won't buy me a new son."

He showed everybody his new license the day after it came in the mail. Sandy was impressed when he showed it to her on their way home.

"If you'll go with me to the next dance," he said, "I'll pick you up and we'll be alone in the car."

"I hope," she said. She never actually accepted his invitation to that dance. "Mom and Dad were real tough on Barb when Tom began driving."

"Well, ask them." If Dad had to drive them still, he needed some warning. It turned out that her parents didn't object. Neither he nor she said anything about parking on the way home, but Sandy couldn't have been ignorant that everybody did. Linda came home long after the dances let out, and Barb was as old. Anyway, he would start to park the car, and either Sandy would object or she wouldn't. The thing was that he wanted to make out with a girl, but he wanted Sandy to be his girl. If she said no, he still wanted to take her out. Well, she accepted his kisses, and if she stopped him there, then the only part of him to feel her tits would be his chest. Still, he wanted more.

Everybody parked, but he had to park some place, and there weren't all that many places in town. There would be fewer places close to the school right after a dance. (That was one consequence of 'everybody parked.') He sought out places on foot after dark, and found some that looked to be in deep shadow.

It was a great dance. The last dance was "Ghost Car." It was a ballad rather than anything romantic, but it was a close dance. Sandy was soft in his arms and following his lead, and he got a boner thinking about how they'd be alone in the car going home. He held her more loosely when that happened.

She didn't say anything when he parked on the way to her house after the dance. Whatever he had imagined, he only had nerve enough to hold her hand and kiss her. Well, Sandy, after all, was a freshman; he would have to go slow. He tasted her lipstick in the kiss when he hadn't seemed to before. If they only kissed, he did a lot of that. He kissed all over her face as well as on her lips. Finally, his boner called for some relief.

"I really need to get you back," he said. She didn't agree, but she seemed to accept that. He drove her home and walked her to the door. The way they kissed on the porch pressed her tits into him without pressing his boner into her.

He put the car in the garage and hung the keys on the nail in the kitchen where Dad told him to return them. He got to his room without seeing anybody else, and was half way through relieving himself when he heard Linda come in. Maybe he could keep Sandy in the car longer, he thought, if he beat off before dates.

Well, that thought didn't last long. He had to talk to Sandy's mom and dad -- really listen to Sandy's dad -- before their next date. A half hour after dances and an hour after movies, and that only to get a burger or shake. Even that was only allowed if it got Sandy back before 10:00.

"Sandy is only a fifteen-year-old freshman, you have to remember," her mom said at the end. That held out promise for an easing of the rules sometime in the future, but Sandy was going to be a freshman for months yet and fifteen for even longer.

The Cameron sisters broke up. He'd heard about it but paid little attention. They were far from his favorite group. They were, despite her preference for Three Coins in the Fountain, very important to Sandy. She talked about the breakup on their walk after school for days on end. Well, she listened to him sometimes when she wasn't all that interested in the subject; he would listen to her.

He was interested in Sandy, if he wasn't interested in Peggy Cameron. She was a nice girl, and he'd been interested in her since he'd met her. He liked talking to her, but, these days, he liked kissing her even more. He'd like to go further, but he didn't know how or how much she would accept. He was thinking of his dilemma the next Saturday when Dad told him to go to the hardware store with him.

"Still going out with the same girl? Sandra isn't it?" Dad asked when they were in the car.

"Yeah -- or Sandy." She was really only 'Sandra' when he was introducing her formally. Still, he could understand Dad's not knowing. He'd been introduced formally.

"Think she might be the one?" He was still pondering that question when they pulled into the hardware store's parking lot. The truth was that he thought she was the one, but he didn't know when he'd decided that. She had started off as a not-too-bratty younger sister of a pain-in-the-ass friend of Linda's.

He didn't see what Dad needed him for in the hardware store. He got what he was looking for and paid the cashier. He handed Craig the bag, but it was light enough to carry in one hand. Dad hadn't needed him at the store, which meant that the conversation had been the purpose of the trip. So what should he tell Dad?

"I think she might be the one," he said when he got in.

"Well, certainty at your age would be premature. But the rules of treating the maybes are the rules for treating the certainties. Y'know, after we were married, I had a long discussion with your mother about the dating scene. It wasn't about you or Linda; it was long before Linda was born. It was about what we'd gone through and our friends. I talked about how boys had to ask and the nervousness of that. I told about the number of times I'd dialed half her number before I got on the phone to ask her for the first date. I wasn't honest enough to tell her of the girls in high school I had funked on calling.

"She was more honest than I was. She talked about wanting a boy to ask her, and the boy never did. She had been waiting for my call, but mine wasn't the first call she'd been waiting for." At that point, they were parked in the driveway, but Dad made no move to get out.

"Yeah?" He got enough history in school, but there was a point to this -- a point Dad was avoiding. They had had that talk already, and it had embarrassed Dad as much as it had embarrassed him. If Dad was leading up to a second round, he was putting it in a context that was totally wrong.

"All I'm saying is that it's hard on you, but it's hard on her, too. You say that you don't quite know how you feel about her. Well, she might not quite know how she feels about you, either." That didn't make him any happier.

"Maybe. She gave me a valentine."

"Did you give her one, too?" Dad asked this sharply.

"Yeah -- before she did."

"Good. So she knows a little about what you feel for her, and you know a little about what she feels for you. All I'm saying is that you have a long time ahead of you. Take it slowly." Dad always thought he had a long time ahead of him. Dad and Mom didn't want Craig to start living for another ten years.

"What does going slow mean?" Not that he was going fast with Sandy, or going anywhere with her, for that matter.

"I've seen you kiss her. You want more. Don't try to deny it. I'm a male even if you think I'm an old man. You want a lot more. Okay, you can't have all that you want. There is a next step. I could start laying out the steps for you, but you can lay them out for yourself, and you and she are part of the same culture. Kids today may have slightly different rules than kids did when I was growing up." Craig hoped so. Didn't girls back in the old days expect a proposal before the first kiss?

"Anyway," Dad continued, "if you think she might be the one, you go slow. You take one step at a time. You move toward that step slowly enough that she can say no. You do not grab. If you get one more step on one date, you don't try for any more steps on the next couple of dates. If she says no, you respect that. You ask her out again, and you don't try for what she's denied you the last time.

"Look, if you have to stop at the kisses, are you going to want to drop her?"

"Hell no!" Though, if they had to stop at the kisses, that might mean that Sandy didn't care as much for him as he did for her.

"That's more convincing than your statement that you think she might be the one. You care for the girl and not just your jollies. Then let her know that. Don't -- God forbid -- say that explicitly. Act like it is true and like you were a sensible guy for whom it is true. You think I try to run your life, don't you?"

"Yeah." That had been a damned stupid question while they sat in the car with Dad trying to run his life.

"And you don't like it." Then why did he keep doing it? "Well, you're an independent human being, and I try to treat you as one, maybe not quite as much as you would wish I did." Not quite as much meaning not at all. "But Sandra is an independent human being, too. She wants to decide about her life, and part of her life is what parts of her body boys can touch." That 'boys' was like a knife through him. He could remember that sleaze, Charlie Delray, holding her tight and obviously feeling her tits press into his chest.

"Don't talk like that."

"Well, I wouldn't talk like that if I were convinced that you didn't want to act like that." Dad stopped then, maybe waiting for him to deny that he wanted to touch Sandy's tits. But he wasn't going to deny it, partly because it would be a lie, partly because Dad wouldn't believe that lie, and mostly because he was not prepared to discuss Sandy's tits with anybody, much less Dad.

"So, you give her a chance to make that decision. When she makes it, you accept it. Let me tell you something. If she likes you at all . . ."

"She did give me that valentine."

"Then she does want your touch, at least the next stage -- the next step as she sees it, not necessarily the next step as you see it. She also, if she is a good girl . . ."

"She's a very nice girl."

"And even maybe if she isn't and wants you to think that she is or wants some others to think that she is . . ."

"She's a damned nice girl. I don't know why you're trying to tear her down."

"Well, a nice girl doesn't want to be touched like that. And, as I've said, some not-so-nice girls don't either. So, she probably wants but doesn't want your touch. She definitely wants to be in control. It's being in control of herself. So, you let her make the decision.

"That means," Dad continued, "that being with you is an experience of being in control. Being with her parents is doing what they say. Being in class is doing what the teacher says. Being with you is an experience of making the decisions; she decides for herself, which is critically important to her, and she decides a little bit for you, which is a treat at her age. It would be a treat at your age, no?"

"Just deciding for myself would be a treat at my age." All this talk of independence and control of yourself, and Dad was trying to control him and restrict his independence. "At least I think so. Never really having had the experience, I can only guess."

"Well, all the independence anybody has, even the freest adult, is to decide knowing the consequences. All I'm telling you is the likely consequences. Grab, and you're likely to lose all your chances at her. Ask in a way that she sees as nagging, and she's likely to find somebody who doesn't nag.

"Anyway," Dad said, "I have no more pearls to cast. I'll take the washers in. You can do what you want." He took the keys with him, though, so Craig could do what he wanted on foot. He went back to his room.

Horrible as Dad's 'advice' had been, he needed to think about how he treated Sandy. One part had been sensible. Sandy was a teen just as he was, and she suffered under the same pressures. Everybody told him what to do, and he was sure everybody told her what to do, too. For that matter, he knew that her mom and her dad told her what to do, because they sometimes told him. It made sense that Sandy didn't want him telling her what to do. Still, he wanted to do things with Sandy. Was it possible that Dad was right that she wanted to do the same things with him? Well, not everything. He really wanted to go all the way, and she wasn't the sort of girl who would do that, or even think of that. But, there was lots of stuff that all the guys did -- or said that they did. They went much further than he had with Sandy.

Well, Dad said that she wanted to do some of that but also didn't want to do it, too. That sounded silly, but his going to college was something like that. He wanted to be a college-graduate adult; he didn't want to spend six more years in classrooms. (Some days, six more weeks in classrooms sounded like a new, improved version of hell.) And if he wanted to go further than Sandy would let him, he needed her to be able to say that she wouldn't without dropping him entirely. If he moved slowly toward touching her tits, would she stop him without leaving him? It sounded possible.

Sunday, after all that time of Dad's trying to run his life, Linda started on her graduation. It was the second most important event of the century to hear her tell it, and the prom was the first. After the prom, there would be an all-night party at Barb's. He wondered what they would do with Sandy.

Monday, after school, it was chilly, and they had their hands in gloves in their pockets. He wanted to ask her to the movies, but she went on and on about her sister. Barb had broken up with Tom. He barely knew Tom, and he knew but didn't like Barb. Still, he listened; it was important to her, and she was important to him. Finally, they got nearly to the corner where she turned south.

"Look," he broke in, "'The Alamo' is coming back to the movie house. Would you like to go see it Friday? I thought that it was a good movie."

"Why, Craig, I'd love to. I've never seen it."

"Then you definitely should. Is it a date, then?"

"Yes," she said.

"We can settle all the other details tomorrow." And they went their ways. They really didn't have anything to settle, though. Taylor's was only a bit further from her house than the high school was and parking was harder to get around the movie. Still, that was only a couple of minutes put together and they had a whole hour after they left to get her home. He took her hand in the movie, and she didn't try to draw it away. Dad had said that you should touch only one thing new on a date, a couple of dates, really. Was her hand really new? He'd touched her hand lots of times before, if he'd never held it like that.

They had so much time when they parked, he started out with kisses. He loved her kisses, her willingness to kiss. He ran his hands through her hair, and she didn't object. She had pretty hair, but it felt better than it looked. He rested his hand on her shoulder while he continued the kiss. He knew where he wanted to put his hand, but he was afraid. Finally, he deepened the kiss and drew his hand slowly toward her tit.

It felt lovely and smooth under his fingers. It felt alive, which he realized was silly. It was alive, but so was the rest of her -- her face, her head, her shoulder which he had been touching before he brought his hand down.

"That's enough," she said, removing his hand. It wasn't anywhere near enough for him, but he raised his hands to her face. 'That's enough' was a stop sign, but it wasn't a no trespassing sign. It seemed to mean, like Dad had suggested, that she might enjoy those touches, too. And quitting when she said to quit meant that he might start it again. She might even allow him more next time. He had touched her smoothness, or the coat which was over the blouse which was over the bra which was over her smoothness. He hadn't got anywhere near the nipple.

When he kissed her on the front porch, he was careful to lean over in such a way that his boner was far from her. Then he went home to his room to take care of it.

The next dance, they would only have half an hour afterwards. He, however, had a long time to enjoy her company during the dance. His hand was supposed to be on her waist for the slow dances, and for much of the year, he'd actually held her a little higher than her actual waist, on the back of her rib cage. The waist felt so sexy bending and turning, though. He let his hand drift lower and lower during each slow dance. Finally, in the last dance, he had his main fingers lying in the groove of her waist and his little finger enjoying the tightening and loosening of her rump.

In the car, he would enjoy the part she was certain to allow him. He held her by the shoulders while he kissed her and, still holding the kiss, stroked down her arms to her hands. He liked to feel her. He repeated the grip on her shoulders for another long kiss. Then he stroked down -- not her arms -- but the front of her coat. Somewhere in there, if not particularly detectable through the material, were her nipples. This time, he had both hands on her tits. And, wonderfully, this time she didn't tell him to stop. Instead, she held his face in the kiss. On her porch for the goodnight kiss, he held her tight. He had a boner, but there were two coats and other winter clothes between them. Anyway, knowing that what was pressed against his boner was Sandy, even if a well-wrapped Sandy, was arousing.

Although Sandy had held his hand through "The Alamo," he could tell that she hadn't enjoyed it as greatly as he had. Her favorite movie was Three Coins in a Fountain, which was a sappy romance. So, when the next movie at Taylor's was a first-run sappy romance, he took her to it. If they couldn't both enjoy the same movies, they could both enjoy movie dates, even if one after the other. It turned out that sappy romances were more enjoyable while holding the hand of a pretty girl. Her grip tightened -- not a real squeeze -- every time the guy kissed the girl. She wasn't really saying 'Take notes'; she might not have known she was doing it at all. Still, he tried to see what the guy's technique was. Aside from bending the girl over backwards, which didn't look too practical standing up and was impossible in the car, he didn't see much different from how he did it.

Anyway, Sandy was in a good mood when they left the movie house. When they parked, she cooperated enthusiastically in the kiss. He was determined to actually feel her tit or die trying. When he started unbuttoning her coat, she froze, but she didn't tell him to stop. Then her tit was in his hand, and he gave new attention to the kiss. While she didn't lose her tension, her kisses back were sexy.

He didn't go much further on later dates, but he didn't back off either. Sandy lost her tension as she grew used to the touches, although sometimes, he could see her develop another kind of tension as the session went on. The sides of her tits were soft under all that material, and his fingers could detect that softness, not quite everywhere. Okay, he knew the shape of bras, knew that an empty bra would feel pointed on the end. Still, he would swear that he could feel Sandy's nipples.

Once, while he was kissing her and feeling that special point, the horn blared. They both jumped and sat back in their places. Immediately after that, though, he realized it was his car's horn.

"I think my elbow hit the horn," he told her. "Sometimes I hate the steering wheel. Would you like to move in back?"

"We only have minutes," she replied. She was right.

"Next time, then?" He tried to sound casual, but moving into the back seat was a big deal. Besides, she had only really cooperated in the kisses. She didn't stop him from doing the rest, but she didn't, for instance, unbutton her own coat. If they were going into the back seat, she would have to go back under her own power.

"Next time," she agreed. And that meant that they weren't only a couple, a couple with a next time, but that they were a couple who made out.

"In back?" he asked when he'd parked after the next dance. She got in back and he joined her. They had the sweetest kiss before he opened her coat to feel her tit. He had to wait a while, but the next step was opening her blouse.

After the next movie, though, Sandy said that they had to come right back and he had to come in and talk with her parents.

"What about?" Had she told them what he was doing? It didn't seem likely, and -- after all -- she could have told him to stop. When she had, he had stopped. Were these new rules?

"I don't know, but lets go face the music." So, that is what they did.

Despite his fears, Mrs. Jackson met them with smiles and cups of cocoa. She left after drinking her cup, and he sat with his arm around Sandy's back. That was as much touching as he dared while her parents were in the living room watching Gunsmoke.

He thanked her again for the cocoa Monday after school. "There isn't a sock hop, Friday," he continued. She nodded. Well, all the kids knew that. "Would you like to go to a movie Friday night?"

"Oh, thank you." She didn't even ask what the movie would be, which was lucky, because he hadn't checked. They had a regular date. He would try to get her to sit in the balcony even though she was a freshman. They didn't have to act like the wildest kids did up there, but they were a couple, and they should sit in the balcony just like they sat in the back seat. That's what couples who were really couples did.

Tuesday, he met her at her exit, but they both walked faster. The sky was overcast and the weather was cold and windy. A drizzle started Tuesday evening long after he -- and presumably she -- was safe back home. It rained all night, and Mom drove Linda and him to school Wednesday morning.

"I'll pick you up tonight," she said. "The radio says this is going to keep up forever."

"Thanks Mom." And he was grateful. On the other hand, that meant not seeing Sandy after school, and she would be expecting him. He walked slowly to English until he saw her going the other way. Then he turned and walked with her.

"My mom drove me to school today," he said

"So did mine." Which meant that he couldn't offer her a ride.

"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." He liked dancing with her in his arms and her tits against his chest, and he liked seeing her jiggling in front of him. He really liked parking after dates and kissing. But he liked simply talking with her, too. He was afraid she would think he only wanted to be with her when he could cop a feel.

"That's okay," Sandy said. "I understand. . . . Look, I have to get to biology." And she hurried away. Thursday, the rain and the rides kept up.

He almost took her hand when they walked home Friday, but he had more steps planned for the date. She didn't argue at all about the balcony when they got to the movie, and she didn't push his arm away when he put it around her. All he felt was her shoulder, but it was a nice warm shoulder, and it was Sandy.

Parking afterwards, Sandy got into the back seat as if she expected to. They kissed and he felt her tits outside the blouse. It was a thinner blouse than she'd worn earlier, which made the bra -- if not her tits themselves -- more obvious to his touch.

The next week after the dance, he tried for a French kiss. Sandy didn't quite cooperate, but she didn't really resist when he put his tongue into her mouth. The thrill when their tongues met was incredible. He suddenly understood what all the talk was about. He stroked her leg, another step and one he hadn't intended to take that week. Still, Sandy didn't resist that, either.

It was after a dance, though, and they only had been allowed half an hour. He took more than that, and they got back late. Mr. Jackson came out the door as he walked Sandy to the porch. He demanded an apology, and Craig gave a sincere one. He then turned on his daughter, bawled her out, and sent her inside. Then he threatened to forbid her any more dates with Craig if it happened again. Well, Craig would see that it didn't happen again. Maybe he shouldn't try to take any new steps on dance nights.

A block after Sandy turned south Wednesday night, he caught up with Jerry, who didn't seem to be really interested in going home. He was a little nervous, because Jerry had been a real bully at one time. They were more nearly of a size now, and Jerry hadn't threatened him for more than a year. Anyway, he didn't seem to have anyone with him.

"I wouldn't mind having some of that," Jerry said nodding in the direction that Sandy had taken.

"Wait." Craig suddenly remembered the jeering in the fall. "Weren't you one of the guys who said I was dating a baby? Changed your mind?"

"Well, she was a baby back then. She didn't have the tits she has now." That was true, though he didn't like Jerry talking about Sandy's tits. He thought about them a lot, but he didn't want to talk about them, especially to Jerry.

"Well, that's the way it goes. You're friends with a girl as she grows up, and she thinks you might be interested in her, not in how she fills a shirt."

"How do they fill your hands?"

"She's only a freshman, and her dad's awfully strict. He'd be on my case if I grabbed." Implying that he would be on Jerry's case, too. Jerry was a junior, with all the social advantages that gave him over Craig. He didn't want Jerry going after Sandy. They walked along until Jerry turned in, but they didn't say anything else.

When he got home that night, Mom had news. She'd been talking about going to work, and she had a job as a cashier in the A&P.

In the movie that Friday, her tit was calling his hand. He didn't quite dare answer that call there in the movie house even though the guy in front of them had his hand on his girl's tit. He hadn't noticed them when he and Sandy had sat behind them, but he thought they might be seniors.

When they were alone in the car, he cuddled her under his arm and reached her tit. She didn't object; she even burrowed into his side as though she enjoyed it. He let his left hand rove for a bit. Then he began to unbutton her blouse, not too easy with your left hand. She stiffened, but she didn't push his hand away. Finally, his hand reached her skin. It wasn't the skin of her tit; the bra was still covering that. It was, however, skin that her blouse normally covered, and it felt sexy as hell. She shivered, but she didn't resist.

He was careful to break the kiss while she had lots of time to arrange her clothing. They got to her house with maybe five minutes to spare, and he wanted her so much right then. When he kissed her good night, he pulled her against him by her butt. She was firm against his boner, and when he took care of it that after leaving her, it didn't take long at all.

He had been neglecting the idea of a dessert after the movies. The truth was that he enjoyed the parking so much that he didn't want to spend that time with others watching. Still, that wasn't really fair to Sandy, and he didn't want her to think that all he wanted from her was to feel her tits. He didn't even want her to know how important feeling her tits was to him. He took care the next time to take Sandy for a cone at the Dairy Queen. They only had a few minutes afterwards, but they did get to talk with some others and established themselves as a couple in another way, and her mouth tasted interesting when they had an open-mouthed kiss.

The senior prom was coming up, but it was a dance for the whole school. He was careful to ask Sandy soon after the previous dance. She said she wasn't certain she could stay out that late. The next day, though, she accepted.

Sandy wore heels for the prom and a fancy dress. He bought her a corsage, as Mom told him to. He pinned the corsage on her with her parents and sister looking on. He felt awkward as hell, and conscious as hell that her tit was right under the pin. It went well, though. Sandy danced fairly well in heels, although his arm around her waist was higher and his hand was slightly lower on her back. He had two fingers on her butt. The teachers had all their attention on the seniors, and with good reason. They saw one guy propose that night, and Sandy was really impressed. Well, he wasn't going to be in any position to propose for her senior prom, let alone for his.

They didn't kiss much after the prom. Sandy's dress was zipped up the back, and she didn't want him to unzip it. Considering how long she might need to get her dress redone, how short a time they had, and all the other complications, they just kissed. Still, if he didn't get under that dress, he stroked a lot of skin that she usually covered up. They started after ten, and he was careful to get her back less than half an hour after the prom had finished.

Linda had planned to spend prom night at Barb's, but Mom had doubts about that. She finally threatened to call Barb's Mom and check on all the details. Linda called it off. He hadn't heard anything from Sandy about that party, and he had his suspicions. If Linda were going to spend the night, though, and not spend it with Barb, what were she and Larry planning to do?

Right after the prom was graduation. He was totally in the shade. He and Sandy talked after school every day, and he sometimes walked further toward her home. Even they, though, talked as much about their sisters' graduation as about themselves.

Mom got him a job as bag boy starting after classes were over. He wasn't thrilled, but Linda got a job as cashier, too. Anyway, Mom and Dad agreed that some of his earnings would go into a savings account to be spent when he went to college and some would be his spending money, more than his old allowance.

He learned three things in his first week of working. One, there were things more boring than school. Two, bag boys, unlike cashiers, got occasional tips. Three, extra income didn't do him any good when he didn't have any place to spend it. He started to get used to the hours, and he discovered that Wednesday was his day off. Well, he knew how he wanted to spend his time off. The question was whether he could. He called Sandy the Wednesday night after he got paid.

"Well, hi." She sounded happy to hear from him. He explained that he was working at the A&P.

"Look," he finished up, "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." She set the phone down so gently that he could barely hear the click. She was nearly shouting when she took it up again. "She said yes." He liked the way she talked about it. The question wasn't whether Sandy wanted to go out with him; the question was whether she was allowed to.

He picked her up a little early. Mr. Jackson came to the door, but instead of raising problems, he spoke kindly until Sandy came downstairs. He and Sandy had so much to talk about, but he began with their last date when he had her in the car.

"I really enjoyed dancing with you at the prom. Did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah."

"Ankles all right, now?" She giggled.

"Yeah."

The movie house was nearly empty, and the balcony was closed off. They sat in the main floor, but pretty far from the next person. She seemed to welcome his hand around her shoulders. He tried to resist the call of her tit, but he couldn't for long. Only the fingers of his right hand touched it, and she didn't object.

It had been so long since they had been together. When they went into the back seat, he kissed her hungrily. Her mouth seemed to welcome his tongue, and her taste gave him the boner of his life. Her tits were so soft. He kissed the rest of her face, unable to express how much he wanted her.

"I love you, Sandy." Those were the words.

"I love you, too, Craig." He had known that she liked him, that she accepted his invitations. She had never said anything like that before. He loved her so much, wanted her so much. He started unbuttoning her blouse to reach her. She opened it for him, and then started on the shirt he was wearing. The feel of her tits through her bra and the feel of her skin under his fingers was exciting, but the feel of her fingers on his chest was even more exciting. He was simply wallowing in all those sensations when she pulled back.

"Craig!"

"What's wrong?" Had he done too much? But she had accepted it all as he was doing it.

"What time do you have?" Oh. It was late.

"Ten - fifteen. Damn!"

He buttoned his shirt after getting into the front seat. She waited to get into the passenger seat until she was decently dressed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I got carried away and forgot the time."

"It didn't seem like that long." And it hadn't felt like that long to him, either. It had felt like one glorious moment.

Well, her Dad opened the door when she was going up the porch stairs. He slammed the door in his face. When he phoned Thursday before going in to work, she gave him the bad news. She was grounded for two weeks. They wouldn't even reduce it one day to let her have a date on the only day he had free. Two weeks later, though, he called her and asked her to another movie that coming Wednesday.

He'd missed her so much, that he'd invited her to the movie without even checking what was playing. It was 101 Dalmatians. He told her after he'd picked her up. He suggested a hamburger instead, and they had that at a drive-in diner. Even though they'd both had supper, he bought milkshakes, too. It was summer, though, and still light. He drove out into the country for a while. He found a dirt farm road that was overshadowed by trees. It was dark in there, and they still had plenty of time.

The kiss was exciting. When he started unbuttoning her blouse, she started on his shirt. They each took off their shirt. She ran her fingers over his chest and shoulder. He ran his fingers over all of her, although the bra still kept his fingers off the softest part. Then he kissed her ears, her neck, her shoulders. He even got to kiss the edges of her tits that the bra didn't cover. They had all the time in the world, and they got dressed carefully in the darkness. He drove her home and kissed her on the porch. She got in well before her curfew, and they were freed for another movie the next week.

That movie, they actually saw. They got shakes afterwards, and they talked more than kissed in the car before getting her home. He had missed the talk, and he wanted her to know that she interested him, and not just her tits.

Sandy's curfew had changed without anyone saying it from 'an hour after the movie got out but no later than 10:00' to '10:00.' He was being careful of that time, and her mom and her dad weren't told anything more. He started picking up Sandy before dinner time and taking her out to eat. His allowance would never have covered it, but the pay did. Since he filled up the tank, they could cover more distance to safer parking spots.

When Guns of Navarone came to Taylor's he gave Sandy the option of skipping it. She hadn't liked it the first time. He couldn't figure out how to see it if he didn't see it Wednesday night, and she probably figured out his problem. She saw it with him, and he tried to make the evening special by taking her for a shake afterwards. She was seeking his pleasure, and he didn't want to spend the rest of the date on the greater pleasure of his kissing her tits.

And he was kissing them these days, if only through her bra. Once he even felt her nipples with his mouth. They responded to him.

When her favorite movie, Three Coins in a Fountain came to town, he wanted to take her there. The problem was that it wasn't actually in town. It was at a drive in, The Starlite, and was at the bottom of a double feature. There was no way in hell that they could get back, or even out of the lot, by 10:00.

Finally, Sandy got permission. They saw the movies, including the first feature, but they didn't do anything else. He knew what couples did in drive-ins, but -- unfortunately -- so did her parents. Anyway, he wasn't going to distract Sandy from that movie. He knew how important it was to her. He drove straight back, though getting out at the end of the show took longer than he'd hoped. When he pulled up to her house, Sandy stopped him from getting out. She kissed him, tongue and all. When he kissed her on the porch, she was as passive as ever. His boner pressed against her leg, though, and she didn't object.

Since the first time he'd touched her tits through her coat, Sandy had never refused him anything. He had tried to keep moving slowly enough so that she wouldn't. She had offered almost nothing, taking off her blouse when he'd started taking it off, unbuttoning his shirt, her kissing him on a special occasion -- that was all. He did things to her, and she accepted them. Sometimes he wondered if he was moving much too slowly. When he learned that he wasn't, it was by moving too fast.

In the back seat, after almost the last movie of the summer, he was kissing her and stroking her. He thought that he could try to take off her bra. At first, she watched him try as though she knew he wouldn't have any chance. When he learned that, too, she stopped him from trying any more.

"Leave it," she said, pushing against his arms. "Kiss me again." Well, that told him that he was going too far. It also told him that she wouldn't storm off if he went too far. They went back to kissing, and he had learned something. Was the bra her limit? He hoped not, and she didn't seem to act like it was. He had just been moving too fast.

The next movie, he bought her an ice-cream soda and they didn't have much time to park. The movie after that, he went straight to their parking spot. They progressed from kissing to removing her blouse and his shirt to kissing some more with their tongues playing. He reached for her bra again. He was quite prepared for her to say no again. She should learn that he would obey her rules, as well as her parents' rules. Instead, she held his head and kissed him harder. It was still hard to get the bra undone, and he could feel her lips smiling at his difficulties.

When he got it, though, the reward was tremendous. Her tits were so smooth, so soft, they were so large in his hands. He felt them all over until she stopped him. Was that the last he was going to feel them? Was their session over for tonight?

"Don't squeeze," she said instead. She wasn't objecting to his feeling her; she was objecting to how he was feeling her.

"I'm sorry," he said. He returned with just his fingertips, and she allowed him. Soon, his mouth was replacing his hands. He kissed the smoothness, and then he kissed the nipple. He had never felt like that before, and he felt her nipple harden against his tongue on his next suck. He couldn't get enough of this until he suspected that he had had too much. A glance at his watch said that it wasn't 10:00 yet, but that they were too close.

"Tell me when I can pull out of here," he told her. He put on his shirt outside the car and then got into the driver's seat.

"Drive," she soon responded. "I can do the rest in a moving car." He got onto the highway, and tried to keep the ride smooth. They got to her house only slightly after 10:00.

The next day, she told him that she had been bawled out, but not grounded.

School was starting and he had to quit his job. He had put lots of the money in the bank account that Dad got for him, but some of it had gone to the bottom of his dresser drawer. A&P had deducted for taxes, and Dad explained that he would get some of that back. He agreed to put that refund away in the bank. It wouldn't come for months yet, but the bank account wouldn't be needed for years. Meanwhile, he was rich. Well, he had more money than he had ever had as an allowance. He could spend that money on clothes or on dates with Sandy. Since jeans didn't have tits to feel, he decided in favor of dates with Sandy.

After school started, he invited Sandy to go to a movie on Wednesday night again, mostly to see if that would work. Sandy reported that she had to struggle, and he almost felt guilty putting her through the trouble. She won, though, and she was so happy about winning that he decided he wasn't giving her more problems than she could handle after all.

They had lunch together, and they spoke while they ate. Other kids were at the same table, but they found a group where each couple ignored the others. He still walked her home, but that was less time.

The movie on the screen wasn't anything special. The time in the movie house was arousing if a little frustrating. The time afterwards was wonderful. They got into the back seat and only kissed briefly before taking off their own shirts. He kissed her again before removing her bra, but there were no further steps to take. They kissed with her tit against his chest, and then he kissed all over her tits. The climax of the kisses, almost his climax, came when he kissed the nipples. They got dressed, he got her home in time, and they had a clothed kiss on her porch. He watched her through her door and went back to relieve himself.

Classes were all trying to catch up to where they had been at the end of the last year -- the end of freshman year in the case of Algebra II -- and he could get most of the homework done in study hall. Thursday lunch, he asked Sandy out to eat Friday night. They still hadn't started dances.

The group in the Dairy Queen that night were people either he knew or she knew. They were starting to be people they both knew. His classmates were accepting Sandy, and the sophomores were glad to talk to a junior. They spent more time talking than eating. They were running late, and he definitely didn't want to ruin Sandy's parents' acceptance of their dating. He drove as fast as he dared to their spot.

Then they saw that somebody else had discovered it. It looked like they were going all the way. He tore out of there before the guy could see who had discovered him. He concentrated on finding another spot, partly because he needed another spot soon, partly because he was too embarrassed to look at Sandy. When he did drive into another spot, it was almost time to go back. Suddenly, the embarrassment and the frustration of their situation were overcome by the humor. They sat, both still in the front seat, roaring with laughter. Well, he liked to be with Sandy, and the shared sense of humor was one -- if definitely not the greatest -- thing he liked about Sandy. He kissed her there, a long, if not particularly passionate, kiss. Then he started back. They had a kiss on her front porch and she went through her door well before 10:00.

The money wasn't going to cover two dates a week, and homework started to be harder. Then, too, Linda was gone, and Mom was still working. She gave him more chores at home. He didn't ask Sandy out on a school night that next week, but they did go to the dance Friday. They had a relationship that was somehow different from the one they had had at the end of the previous year although he couldn't express that. The dance made that new relationship public.

The school year started with them as an established couple. Sandy was now a sophomore and not one of the youngest girls. Then, too, she looked like a woman with a woman's tits. He was definitely not robbing the cradle. Since Linda (and Barb) had graduated, they weren't anybody's kid brother or sister. Sandy hadn't mentioned changing the rule that they each had to dance with others, and she was the expert on persuading her mom and her dad. Anyway, it bothered him less that she was in the arms of other boys since he got so much more from her than the pressure of her tits against his chest through layers of clothing.

The change wasn't so crass as that they danced like a couple where the boy was going to feel the girl's naked tits afterwards, although his consciousness of the change certainly was colored by that knowledge. Anyway, the sock hop was the most enjoyable dance he'd attended, and Sandy looked like she was enjoying it, too.

Parking afterwards wasn't so fine. They really didn't leave the gym much before 9:30. Every part of before and after took longer. The drive to their spot and the drive back was longer because he had to get Sandy more privacy than they'd needed when they had kissed clothed. The trip between seats took maybe a minute each time. Getting the clothes off and back on took some time, and he wore a tee shirt under his button shirt for dances. Maybe they could have stripped faster, but that would have been so cold-blooded. He was kissing Sandy and removing her bra so he could kiss more. Any speed-up would be Sandy stripping to show him her tits. Anyway, by the time he could kiss Sandy's fine tits, it was almost time to start dressing again.

Well they would have movie nights for making out and school dances would be the pleasure of dancing with her in his arms and the pride of being seen as a couple. Sandy, though, had another solution. She told him at the end of the next dance that her curfew was 10:30. That should have led to a great time, but somehow it didn't. Sandy's tits were, if anything, larger than ever. She didn't seem to enjoy his touches as much, though, and that made his enjoyment less. Making out, like dancing, was something that they did together for their mutual pleasure.

Sandy was struggling with the beginnings of Plane Geometry, just as he had. The Monday after the dance, she had a test. On the way home from school, she told him how confused she had been. Everybody complained about tests, and Sandy was only complaining a little worse than she usually did. Wednesday, though, she told him on the way home that she had got a D on the test. That shook her, and he decided to call her up that night to invite her out for a burger Friday. That might cheer her up, and it would give them plenty of time afterwards.

"Can't," she said. "I'm grounded -- grounded until my Geometry grade goes up, and that might be never." That was bad news, and it meant that he was grounded, too. Oh, he could go out for a movie or a burger; he could even go to the next dance. But he couldn't date Sandy until her grounding was lifted. Well, they could talk at lunch and after school. Then the light dawned. He could see, if not touch, Sandy other times, too.

"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." There was the usual pause while she asked.

"She says that it is okay as long as she is home." They set up a date, although he was careful not to call it that, for after dinner Friday. They sat beside each other at the dining-room table while the rest of her family watched TV in the next room.

Sandy didn't know the first theorems she was supposed to have learned, but her real trouble was that she hadn't figured out what she was studying. That was unfortunate for her, but fortunate for him. He'd had the same problem a year before, and he had figured it out for himself.

"Look," he 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."

"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." Sandy was dejected. You couldn't learn the fucking alphabet unless you thought you could, and his first task was convincing her that she could learn Geometry.

"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," he told her. "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." She sounded annoyed, but she had to understand this.

"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, yeah, it had been when he was at the stage she was at. But she had to see it as doable, or he might never dance with her again.

"Well, it can be. But not this early in the book. When are two triangles congruent?" He hurried on before she could answer that she didn't know. "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."

He took to coming over Tuesday and Friday nights after dinner. When Sandy got a B on some Geometry homework, her mom decided that Craig wasn't some lecherous kid trying to get her daughter alone but a guy who was really helping. (The truth, of course, was that he was both.) She set up a card table in the basement with chairs across from each other and brought them lemonade at the start of the evening. They moved the chairs next to each other so that they could both see the book and draw on the same piece of paper. His shoulder touched Sandy's when his arm wasn't around her. Sandy seemed a lot more able than he was to keep her mind on Geometry when they were touching, and that was lucky because it was her understanding of Geometry that was their hope for parking again.

When they were in the basement, though, Barb had no excuse for walking past them. Sandy walked him out the door to say good night after each lesson, and the kisses on her porch were growing hotter and hotter. The night of the next sock hop, he was in Sandy's basement trying to get her up to speed. She mentioned when they were saying good bye that he had skipped it.

"Well, I wanted to dance," he told her, "but the girl I wanted to dance with wasn't there."

"Oh, Craig." And she hugged him and put her tongue in his mouth for the kiss. He couldn't keep his hands off her butt even though the porch light was on, but she didn't seem to mind his squeezing her there.

Finally, Mr. Warren gave another exam. Sandy had Geometry the next to the last period, and she told him her worries about the test on her way home. She seemed nervous, but he didn't hear about a lot of questions where she had been lost. Thursday, she got the test back, and she had a B.

"That's wonderful," he said when she showed him the test.

"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." Apparently, her grounding hadn't been lifted yet. She called him after dinner with the news that she could go.

The dance was great. Sandy was soft and supple in his arms; her rock moves were smooth with enough jerks to shake her tits delightfully. They danced with others, but sometimes they sat out together or with another couple. Deb, who had broken up with Barry during the previous year, had been Steve's date for the prom. Now, she didn't seem to have come with anybody. Deb was far in his past, but the contrast of their two situations could only make his taste sweeter. Then, too, both of Deb's tits wouldn't make one of Sandy's now.

Parking afterwards wasn't nearly as special. He'd figured that he hadn't pushed Sandy for a while. He had everything above the belt, and it was time to try for her leg. He moved slowly, and had barely got above her knee when she pushed him away.

"Craig! What do you think you're doing?" Well, he was -- they were -- making out. He enjoyed it, and he would have sworn that she enjoyed it, too.

"I'm sorry," he said. "We can go back to what we were doing." That was their established pattern, after all. They followed what they had done before. He went one step further. Either she allowed him to, or she stopped him. If she stopped him, he went back to the previous routine. He didn't push every time, and he didn't insist when she said no.

"Why don't you drive me back, instead?" Well, they had minutes more that he could spend kissing her tits. Still, she had said no, and he made it a policy of taking no for an answer.

He didn't even know how much of a kiss she would give him on her porch. Well, at least her dad would know that they didn't push the curfew every time. He spent the weekend worrying that she was really mad at him, then that she was simply tired of him. Deb had complained about Sandy before dumping him. Maybe Sandy was going to complain about their making out before dumping him.

At lunch Monday, he wondered how she was going to treat him. She looked a little nervous, but she didn't pick on anything he said. Finally, she asked him to come on Wednesday to help her on Geometry again.

"Of course," he said. That was a little silly. He certainly had thought the tutoring was over, and it had been on Tuesday and Friday nights anyway. Maybe it was 'Of course I want to be with you any time we have an excuse.' He certainly didn't want to talk Geometry with her on Friday nights, but that was because he wanted to do other things with her on Friday nights.

That night, she called him up. Instead of withdrawing the invitation, she enlarged it. Her mom was inviting him to have dinner with her family on Wednesday. The invitation was incredibly good news. The people who had said that Sandy could be his date but not his girlfriend were accepting him as her boyfriend. The dinner itself was rather awkward. Dinner with his own parents sometimes passed in silence after the grace, and Mom and Dad -- at least -- had things they wanted from him. The Jacksons didn't even have grace for the beginning of the meal before they had to think of something else to say. He expressed gratitude for the invitation and appreciation for the good food. Mr. Jackson asked about school and about his plans for the future. He and Sandy sat side by side, but were careful not to touch.

Barb filled the gap with questions about Linda. He could tell that Sandy resented that, but he was grateful. He'd hated being Linda's little brother since he was in diapers. In this company, though, he was glad to be Linda's little brother. They knew Linda, and he would rather be Linda's harmless baby brother than the older man who was a danger of seducing Sandy. He could have told Mr. Jackson that there wasn't any danger of a seduction. Sandy wouldn't even let him touch her below her belt line. Since Mr. Jackson wouldn't have wanted Craig touching her above the belt line, he couldn't say that.

Finally, they escaped downstairs. The table was set up again with chairs across from each other. He dragged his chair next to hers, and they started to study. They touched, but he didn't touch any of the sexiest areas. She did go over the work.

"Think you can get anything more tonight?" he asked when she seemed to be caught up. She was now deep enough into the book that he no longer remembered what would come next.

"Not really. But I don't want to interrupt them until the show's over." Well, Geometry over and it being the wrong time to go upstairs, they had to think up something else to do. Luckily, the same thought occurred to both of them. Her mouth opened for his tongue, but he was too scared to ask for her blouse to open for his hand. She broke the kiss, and he could hear footsteps over head. The door at the top of the stairs stayed shut until they reached it. He had his boner adjusted in his pants so that it didn't show when he thanked Mr. and Mrs. Jackson for the meal. Sandy walked him out and they kissed demurely on the porch.

The movie selection at Taylor's for that Friday was one they had seen together before and neither of them had liked. He decided to take the study session for their date for that week. The next Friday was a dance night, though, and he could ask Sandy that Monday at lunch. He remembered how Mom had bitched about Larry's last-minute invitations, and he was almost always careful to give Sandy plenty of time. On the other hand, he could call her Sunday. That would give him another chance to talk to her. He did it that way. She had said no to his touching her leg, and she had seemed quite annoyed about that. He promised himself to stay above her waist after this dance.

The dance was delightful. Parking afterwards was even more delightful. Sure there were things he couldn't do. For that matter, he would really like to actually go all the way, although he realized that a nice girl like Sandy would never let him. Well, someday -- after they had grown old and he'd graduated from college -- they might get married. Then, she would let him. By then, though, he wouldn't enjoy it as much. For now, though, while there were things he couldn't do, there were things he could. They sat in the back seat and soon had their shirts, including his tee shirt, off. Then slowly, reverently, he managed to remove her bra during a kiss. Then he could kiss all over her lovely tits. He ended up on her responsive nipple. Then she put herself back together and he drove her home. They had minutes on the front porch for a deep kiss and a tight hug.

After the next dance, he touched her leg again. She moved his hand up, signaling that this touch wasn't allowed. She moved it up to her tit, though. That meant that she allowed any touches above the waist. He'd heard bitches about 'taking a woman for granted,' but this seemed to be taking for granted that he would be kissing her tits after every date.

And then Sandy turned sixteen. Her mom, or occasionally her dad, were in the basement for the entire party. Even though Sandy was the hostess, though, he got several dances in with her. He even found himself in a conversation with her dad. Aside from one or two girls, he was the guest that Mr. Jackson knew best.

"What courses are you taking this marking period, Craig?" He was taking the same courses all year, and he told him the list. "Sounds all academic." Mr. Jackson seemed to approve of that. After all, he wasn't the worst choice Sandy could have made.

"Mom and Dad met in college and dropped out to get married. They are bound and determined that their children will finish." Actually, kids were expected to be perfect. They couldn't make the mistakes their parents had made, and they damn-well better not do anything their parents had avoided.

He was the last guest to leave, and Sandy walked him out the door and gave him a special kiss. It didn't match parking after dances, but it was fine anyway, and Sandy was bubbling after her party.

She was still in a good mood at the next dance. It was their first school dance when she was sixteen. They had the first two dances, and a classmate came over to ask her for one. He danced that one by himself. You looked like a loser who couldn't attract a partner doing that, but everybody who counted knew that he was Sandy's date. He went to the boys' room during Ghost Car and then asked Nancy for the next dance. It was Honey Bee and it reminded him of his first dance with Sandy.

He sat out the next dance, and then went looking for Sandy. They could have one more dance before the last one without stretching her dad's rules too much. He couldn't find her, and she wasn't on the dance floor either. He was getting desperate when he finally saw her. She was dancing with another sophomore. He waited while the dance ended and they talked for a minute. Then he got to her without moving so fast that it was clear that he had been worried.

"May I have the next dance, please?" he asked her. She was his date, but dances were favors she granted not his right. He even asked her for the last dance of a night.

"I don't know, Craig. I'm feeling tired." Considering that she had only danced the last dance out of three in which he'd been looking for her, that sounded strange. "You dance, though." That sounded ominous. "I bet Nancy is free." And that sounded threatening. Well, he'd been told to go away. He either went away or they had a scene in front of the entire school. He went away.

The next time he saw her she was dancing with Charlie Del Ray. The girl who had been too tired to dance with him danced two dances straight with Charlie. He couldn't find her for the last dance of the evening. When he did see her, however, she was walking toward him. She at least was going to ride back with him and not with Charlie.

"What did I do?" he asked in the car. At least when she'd pushed his hands away, he had known what he'd done wrong. This way, he had not the least idea what he was being punished for.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I think I have a headache. Could you please take me home?" So, he took her home. He started to get out of the car to walk her to her front door, but she got out faster than he did and ran to the house. He waited there until she was inside.

Monday at school, Sandy sat at a table of all girls. There wasn't even a seat next to her that he could grab if he was willing to have her make public her freezing him out. After school, he went to the entrance, but she wouldn't talk to him. He about gave up.

A little more than a week later, he called her up to ask her to the next dance. That was during the day Saturday asking for the next Friday night.

"I'm sorry, Craig," she said. "I'm busy that night. Goodbye." Well, he'd been well and truly dumped for the second time in his life. With Deb, at least, he'd seen it coming if not why. With Sandy, he hadn't seen it coming at all.

Bill was in two of his classes, and Bill and Carol were one of the other couples who had eaten lunch at the table he and Sandy had once shared. He caught up with Bill after History class on Monday.

"Mind if I ask Carol a couple of questions?" he asked him.

"What sort of questions?"

"Questions a girl would know the answers to. For God's sake, I'm not trying to make time with your girl. If I was, I wouldn't go through you."

"Tomorrow at lunch then." And, Tuesday at lunch he sat at the table on the other side of Bill from Carol.

"Look, Carol," he asked, "do you know whether Nancy Simmonds has a boyfriend now?"

"She doesn't. What happened to you and Sandy?" That was a damned good question.

"I'd like to know that myself," he confessed. "She won't speak to me, even to tell me that."

Still, he had a chance with Nancy. At least there was nobody who'd want to fight him if he asked her to a dance. He did the next morning before first period.

"Nancy, would you go to the dance Friday with me?"

"Why, Craig, what happened to Sandy?"

"I'm not going with her anymore."

"Then I'd be happy to."

"Give me your phone number, and I'll call to set up the other details." When he called to get her address, she told him to pick her up early and speak to her dad.

"Craig," Bill called him going out of History class Friday morning. They walked together until the kids around them weren't anybody they really knew. "You and Sandy had a song. You danced it with another girl. That's what Carol told me. Sandy is still upset."

At first, he couldn't think of what song, then it came to him. It had to be Honey Bee it was the first slow dance they had shared. For that matter, it was the second. And he'd danced it with Nancy. What Sandy had never told him was that she regarded it as their song. Well, you couldn't understand females. Dad said he didn't, and he'd been married forever.

When he found Nancy's house, Mr. Simmonds met him at the door and let him in. He set a 10:30 curfew 'since it's a first date.' When Nancy came downstairs, they left for the dance. After the two first dances that night, he almost left Nancy. But Mr. Simmonds hadn't said anything about her dancing with other guys.

"Are you supposed to dance with other guys when I bring you?" he asked. "Does your dad or mom insist upon that?"

"Why no. That sounds weird."

"Well, some parents do, and parents are weird. Well, instead of this dance would you like some Coke?" So, they sat out that dance. They danced most of the time, though, and they danced with each other. Afterwards, he found his usual parking space. "Would you like to get in back?" he asked, and she got in back immediately.

He'd been telling himself to take one step at a time with Nancy. She was a nice girl, not some slut. Still, she was a nice junior, and he knew that the rules for juniors were different from the rules for sophomores, much less freshmen, and Sandy had been a freshman for most of their time together. In the back seat, he cupped her face in his hands before kissing her. That was a good place for his hands to keep them from wandering. They kissed for a few minutes, and then he kissed all over her face. When he returned from her ear, he licked her lips. Their tongues met, and he felt a thrill. He held the back of her head and kissed her hard. As he relaxed, his hands wandered over her covered tits. He broke the kiss once to check his watch, but they had plenty of time. He went back to kissing her and stroking her tits. The next time he checked, it was getting close to her curfew.

"Maybe we should get back into the front seat, he said." On the way, she shoved her blouse back into her waistband. "Tell me when you recognize where we are," he said, "I'm not sure of the best route to your house."

She directed him, and he memorized the route back. She lived in a part of town that he didn't really know his way around. He knew all the streets around where he lived and where Sandy lived, but Nancy lived a little north and much farther west than the high school. When they got to her house, she got out before he did.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked.

"Heavens no."

"Well, don't you want me to walk you to your door?" She obviously hadn't wanted him to, but he was tired of reading girls' minds. She could tell him what he'd done wrong. But she was silent while they climbed up the stairs to her porch. When he thanked her for the date, she stood until he started to kiss her. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss. It was a long and juicy kiss before she opened the door.

Talking to Nancy in school was a problem. He phoned her Monday evening to ask her to see a movie on Friday.

When he came to pick her up, she wasn't ready. He had a few minutes stilted conversation with Mr. Simmonds before she came downstairs. Nancy had two younger sisters who looked at him as if he were an exhibit in a museum. When Nancy came down, she glared at them. She was perfectly nice to him, though. When he stopped to get popcorn, she headed up the stairs to the balcony. When he put his arm around her, she accepted it.

Later, in the back seat, he unbuttoned her blouse. She pulled his head so that they were kissing harder. He stroked her bra and then all the smooth skin. When he reached for her bra strap, she leaned forward. It took him two tries, but she kept leaning until he got both snaps open. Then she relaxed back. She clearly wasn't going to remove the blouse, much less her bra. He could feel her tits, though. They were smaller than Sandy's. Her nipples responded to his touch. He suddenly wanted -- no needed -- to kiss them. He kissed the side of her face and down her neck. He pushed the blouse aside and kept kissing lower. He just raised the bra out of his way and kissed her soft tit. Then he was at the nipple.

"Craig!" she said, but she pulled him toward her for a minute. Then she pushed him away. "Not so hard."

"I'm sorry."

"Gently, and the other one." She moved his head to the nipple on the tit closer to him. "Lick it." When he did, the sensation was as arousing as licking her tongue. His boner was hard in his pants. A long time later, his back was aching. He straightened and kissed over her face ending at her mouth. When he looked at his watch, it was after 10:30. She glanced at her watch, but she didn't say anything. Maybe his was wrong.

He got out first, and adjusted his cock while she was getting her clothes snapped and buttoned. He was in the seat while she tucked her blouse into her skirt. Then she got in, and he started for her house. This time, he got there without her help. There was no light by her front door, though.

"Thanks for the date," he said when they were on the porch.

"Thank you." She stood waiting for his kiss. When he kissed her, she flowed against him. He had to take responsibility for holding her straight, but he could feel every inch of her pressing into every inch of him. Her mouth was open, and her tongue met his. This went on and on until there was a blinding light. She sprang back and looked at her watch. Then she snatched open the door.

"Karen," she shouted, "I'm going to kill you." There was a giggle disappearing into the distances of the house. She turned back in the doorway. "Craig, I'm sorry. Now you know what I have to put up with. Thanks again. It was a great evening." She went in and closed the door. He returned to the car. When he looked at his watch, it was 10:51.

"The porch light is off until 11:00 when I'm on a date," she explained when he called her Monday night. "When Dad turns it on, I'm supposed to come inside immediately. That's when Dad turns it on. When Karen turns it on, it means she's out of bed after her bed time and that I'll murder her in her sleep. She thinks it's funny, the retard." Apparently, killing her sister wasn't anything permanent.

"Well, I have a sister, too. I know what pains they can be. The reason I called you, though, was to ask you to the sock hop on Friday."

"Why, thank you." She was waiting when he rang her doorbell and slipped out without letting him see in. They were getting to know each other as dancers better, when they sat out they sat with another couple of Juniors. Ted was sort of a friend of his, not a close one, and Paula was in History with him and had been in English the year before. Both had gone to grammar school with Nancy. He'd sort of met Sandy's friends, and she'd sort of met his, but they were in different years. He and Nancy had the same friends, maybe they were close to different ones, but they all knew the same ones.

In the back seat, Nancy took care of her own clothes during the first kiss. Then he kissed all over her face and ears and neck before going lower. When he licked her nipples, she pulled his face against her chest with her tits on either side. The porch was dark when they got there. He pressed her back against the doorway and held her butt while they kissed. The light came on, he jumped, and she straightened up. She went inside.

Mom and Dad planned to go out on the next Friday night, and they warned him in plenty of time. He called Nancy, and asked her to the movies on Saturday. He heard Mom and Dad come back from their friends' party well after midnight. They were laughing, and Dad had clearly had enough to drink that he would have been grounded for life if he'd got behind the wheel with half that amount in him. They had enjoyed much the better evening. The rain was coming down hard Saturday night, and the radio threatened worse for later.

"Can't you call it off?" Mom asked. "Driving in that weather could be dangerous."

"Well, it's not the liquid outside that causes most crashes."

"That's my car, young man," Dad said. "One more word from you, and you can walk -- or swim -- to the movies."

"Yes, sir. But Nancy has my number, and she hasn't called it off. I don't know what her rules are for school nights, but I don't want to wimp out over a little rain. If she wants to, she can."

When he got to Nancy's, Mr. Simmonds answered the door. Nancy was there in jeans and what looked like a man's flannel shirt.

"Look, with this weather," Mr. Simmonds said, "I want you to come right back. You can come in, but we don't want to be worrying about Nancy all night." Well, he couldn't object. Anyway, the trip to the back seat on a dirt road might be a mess in that weather. Nancy put on a raincoat, and he put up his umbrella to lead her to the passenger seat in the car. They sat with their raincoats on their laps in the balcony. That, at least, made it easier to hide his boner. He wondered about whether the coat on Nancy's lap would hide his hand, but they hadn't done anything like that, and she was wearing jeans. His hand wandered down to her tit, and she didn't object. Still, this would be a short date. When they came out of the movie, they really needed the umbrella, but umbrella and raincoats weren't enough. He finally left her inside and got the car. When he pulled up outside the movie house, she ran out.

They parked in the driveway, and walked under the umbrella to her house. Mrs. Simmonds met them.

"Let me take your coat," she told Craig. She ushered them into the kitchen where there was a table with a cake and two place settings. "There is ice cream, too," she said. "Not my choice for an evening like this, but I know kids." She waited until Craig sat down, and then she left them closing the door behind her. Nancy cut a generous slice of cake for Craig and a smaller slice for herself. She went to the refrigerator.

"Coke or ginger ale?" she asked.

"Ginger ale."

"The ice cream is chocolate. Want some?"

"Please." If he wasn't going to get his greatest pleasure, Nancy's family was going to feed him. She brought over a generous bowl for him and a smaller serving for herself. They ate in silence. Before they finished, she gestured for him to stay down and silently rose and crept over to a door in a corner of the kitchen. She jerked it open and looked inside.

"The babies weren't there, for a wonder," she said. "Give me a minute." She heard her climb some stairs. He didn't hear her come back, and he saw that she was wearing slippers. His own feet were wet, and he understood her reason for changing. She got a chair and placed it under the doorknob blocking the door closed. She came back and moved her bowl and glass next to his. She gestured him back and sat on his lap. She bent over to lick his lips. "Somehow, your cake tastes better than mine did." With that invitation, he kissed her. Soon his hands were covering her shirt. When he started unbuttoning it, though, her hands stopped him. She got up, and he rose after her.

"Come over here," she said. She led him to the door by which her mom had left and then moved him against it. "Don't touch the buttons." She pulled her shirt out of her jeans and then reached up behind herself under it. Clearly, she was unsnapping her bra. "Here." She turned her back to him and backed into him. She took his hands and moved them under the edge of her shirt. He eased them up until he was touching her tits. "Yeah."

They stood there with his hands traveling all over her tits. He bent down to kiss her neck and then her shoulder through the shirt. She shivered when he licked the back of her ear. She backed into him, and he backed into the door. He clasped her tits while she pressed back and rubbed against his boner. Once, there was a clap of thunder right outside, and they both jumped. He had no idea how long it had been, but he began to feel a desperate need to piss before he heard a gentle knock at the door behind him.

"I don't mean to interrupt," said Mr. Simmonds, "but Nancy needs her beauty sleep. So, for that matter, do I." He jumped, but Nancy simply reached back to adjust her bra. When she opened the door, Mr. Simmonds was in his bath robe. He gave Craig the coat and umbrella he'd brought. The rain was still coming down, but not so hard. When he got home, he ran to the bathroom and pissed holding his raincoat open with his elbows. Dad was there when he came out.

"Where in hell have you been? Do you know what time it is?"

"12:17." He had to glance at his watch to check first.

"We were worried sick. With this storm, we could see you lying in a ditch somewhere." It was probably the car's lying in the ditch that worried Dad.

"It's not as late as you got home last night."

"I'm an adult. If you're going to be this late, call! We were worried." He finally escaped to his room. He hung his raincoat in his closet. Dad rousted him out in the morning for church, not something that they had been enforcing since he had begun work in the supermarket. He was slow enough getting started that he had to leave without breakfast. Dad forgave him enough that he got to drive on the way back. Still, he was awfully hungry at dinner time.

When he called Monday to invite Nancy to the next dance, she responded by inviting him to have dinner with her family Friday night before the dance.

Nancy's mom was polite and welcomed him. Nancy's dad was polite, too, but he seemed to want to know who Craig was. And, of course, Craig wasn't anything; he was a high-school student. He told him about his courses and that his parents wanted him to go to college. He told about having been a bag boy the summer before and that he didn't want to go back.

"Work too hard?" asked Mr. Simmons.

"A lot harder for me than for most guys," he said. "Mom got me that job, she worked there as a cashier, and so did my sister that summer." Mr. Simmonds laughed. It wasn't funny; he wanted out from under Mom's wing.

When Mrs. Simmons called "dinner," Nancy came down with her sisters. Her dad and mom sat at the ends of the table, Nancy sat between him and her dad. Karen sat across from him, and Martha, an even younger sister, sat across from Nancy. Their grace was "God is great, and . . ." He felt that this was rather childish, but Martha was really a child. Mrs. Simmonds had cooked spaghetti, good spaghetti. After he said so and there was a little more talk about the food, Karen started in. She'd got back a test on multiplying fractions, and her dad wasn't happy.

"Fractions are hard," Karen said.

"They are hard to add," Craig replied, "but they are easy to multiply. You've ridden the L?" She had. "Well, it's like L tracks. One track is the numerators; the other is the denominators. The wheels never jump from one track to the other, and neither should you."

"But then you have to simplify."

"It's the same thing. You multiply 2/3 times 5/6. Well, 5/6 is 5 over 2 times 3. The answer is 2 times 5 over 2 times 3 times 3. That's 2 over 2 times 5 over 3 times 3. You know what 2 over 2 is."

"One."

"And what's 3 times 3?"

"Nine."

"So it's 1 times 5 over 9. And 1 times anything is that thing. So, your answer is 5 over 9. The only problem is finding the ones to take out." Mr. Simmonds was looking at him. "Sorry. It wasn't my place."

"Be my guest," said Mr. Simmonds. "Are you sure that isn't what you want to do with your life, teach?"

"Sir. I've spent my life in classrooms, and I'd be happy if I never saw another. The idea of spending the rest of my life there is enough to make me cut my throat." Mr. Simmonds laughed and Mrs. Simmonds joined in. Nancy and her sisters, who faced classrooms every day, didn't find it any funnier than he did.

"You understand," Mr. Simmonds said when blueberry pie had been served for dessert, "that midnight was a special case because we wanted you to come straight back here. Nancy's curfew tonight is 11:00."

"You set the rules. I understand that."

"You were no help," Nancy said in the car. "I think that having to be in by eleven is ridiculous."

"Well, I didn't say that it was the right rule. I said that he set the rules. You can fight your family all you want. They're still your family. If I try to fight them, they'll say that you can't date me."

"And you want to date me?" she asked.

"No. I'm in this car by accident." There was a long pause, while he thought that his sarcasm might have been a mistake. "Of course, I want to date you. I asked you, and I asked you for the other dates we had."

"After you asked Carol."

"I asked Carol about you. I didn't ask her for a date. I asked Carol in particular because she would know and she wouldn't get insulted that I wanted you and not her. She was with Bill -- still is." He couldn't figure out why they were having this fight, and it was a fight although they hadn't raised their voices. What was bothering Nancy? "Look, if I've done something wrong, tell me. Tell me straight out."

"You haven't done anything to me, though you did pay more attention at the table to Karen than you did to me."

"Well, I wanted your family to like me. I thought that you already liked me."

"I do like you." She didn't sound like it.

"Then let's not fight. Let's enjoy the dance."

"You're right," Nancy said. And he did enjoy most of it.

When he saw Sandy dance past wriggling for Charlie, however, he didn't enjoy that sight at all. When he'd parked the car and they had moved into the back seat, they had a long, wet kiss. When he started to unbutton her blouse, however, Nancy stopped him and gestured for him to sit back. He was really disappointed before she started removing her own blouse. She took off the bra, too, and was bare above the waist.

"Be very gentle with me tonight," Nancy said. "I got a hickey last week."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Be gentle." So he kissed her tits gently. When he started licking them instead, she said "Yeah." She stopped him long before 11:00, and got dressed again. She went back to kisses, though, until it was time to get back into the front seat again. They got back with time to spare, and spent that time kissing standing on the porch. When he cupped her tit, Nancy moved his hand away, but she moved it to her butt. He pulled her against him and kissed her more deeply until the light came on. Then she went in.

They were definitely a couple. Nancy's phone restrictions were worse than his, and he could understand that -- she was one of 3 girls. He negotiated a little easing of his own rules, although Mom made it clear that this easing didn't apply when Linda was home. He couldn't argue with that, and the limits weren't much of a problem when Nancy's were much tighter. The problem was that Nancy and he didn't really have any time to talk in school. He called her on Monday to invite her out on Friday, but he would have been furious if she had said she had another date.

The weather grew colder, and he and his friends gave up outside basketball. That meant giving up basketball except for gym class. He was gym-class good at the game, but nowhere near even bench-warmer acceptable for the team. Nancy wore a zippered jacket for their next movie date, but took it off and put it on her lap in the balcony. He set the heater in the car on high when they left the next movie. Even so, it was a little chilly in the back seat. She opened her blouse and unhooked her bra, but she kept them on. When he touched her tit, she shivered.

"Your hand is cold," Nancy said, breaking their kiss.

"Sorry."

"Well, you can't help it."

"Well, my lips are warm," he said.

"Prove it." So he kissed her tits. She held his head against them. Lacking access of his hands to her tits, he slipped his left hand under her skirt. He held her knee, and then moved inward. She closed her legs, trapping his hand between her knees. "That's enough," she said.

"I'm sorry. I'll take it out if you let it go."

"I said that was enough. I didn't say that it was too far." And so he caressed her nylon-covered knee and kissed or licked her tit until their time was up.

At the next dance, he and Nancy were doing a two-step when Sandy came by clinging to Charlie's neck. She had never danced that way with him, and this was less than two months after she had dumped him. He nearly stumbled, and Nancy grabbed his shoulder.

He wore gloves when he left the dance, and didn't take the left one off until he was in the back seat with Nancy. She seemed to appreciate that his hand was a little warmer. He held her knee, and she stopped him maybe an inch higher this time. He kept the pattern up after the next movie, and she seemed happy. That night, on the dark of her porch, he kissed her deeply while he held her butt to pull her hard against him. She tensed one butt cheek and then the other, and he squeezed the tensed cheek harder as she did. Suddenly, though, the light went on again. They both checked their watches. They had 7 minutes by his. Nancy grabbed the door handle, but it was locked.

"Damn you, Karen," she shouted. "I will murder you." She got out her key and unlocked the door.

When he got to her house before the next dance, he was a little early. Nancy was still upstairs, but Karen let him in.

"Fractions are a little easier with the way you explained them," she said. "I got a C on my last test."

"I'm glad. You know, I have an older sister myself."

"I didn't know," Karen said.

"Well, I do, and I fought with her just as you fight with Nancy. Still, I never did anything to you, did I?"

"No."

"And, when you turn the light on when Nancy and I are on the porch, you're not only bothering Nancy, you're bothering me. And I don't think that's a fair return for helping you on your math." At that point, Nancy came downstairs, and they left. In the back seat after the dance, Nancy stopped him when he put his hand on her knee.

"That hand is cold," she said.

"I'm sorry. I wore gloves."

"Well, it still feels freezing. You might enjoy it." As a matter of fact, the warmth was one small part of the pleasure of feeling her leg. "It freezes me to death." She made no move to open her jacket, either. So they had nothing but kisses. "You might not like this date," she said.

"That's ridiculous." He had wanted more, even expected more, but he had liked the kisses and the dances with her in his arms. "I asked you, after all, to come to a dance."

"Yeah, but I was your second choice. You would rather have danced with Sandy."

"Nancy!" She should never have said that, and he should deny it. She wouldn't believe his denial, though, and he didn't think he could pretend that it was real.

"I'm sorry. I'm just in a bad mood. I'm not mad at you; I'm mad at me. It's almost time, too." So he took her home, although they had lots of time, especially since she didn't have to get dressed again. She held her finger to her lips in a 'shh' gesture on the porch. She took out her key and fit it into the lock. Then, however, she came into his arms for a kiss. He barely could feel anything from the hug, but his hands were on her butt anyway until the light came on.

During the next movie, he sat with his left hand in his right armpit and his right arm around her shoulders. Afterwards, she didn't complain that his hand was cold. She did pull her knees together, though. Silently, he stopped where his hand was, and she relaxed. He didn't go any further, but he did nuzzle her tits and lick her nipples.

Some weeks, she held him back, but the other weeks she let him go a little further. Somehow, holding back never pulled the limit back. The next time he needed the date to be on Saturday, she invited him to dinner first. He discovered that she had cooked the main meal. When he called her up the Monday before Thanksgiving, Nancy told him that her family didn't think that the Friday after Thanksgiving was a proper date night.

"Well," he said, "the next Friday is a dance."

"So it is. Does that mean that you'll call me in a week?"

"A little silly, isn't it? Nancy, would you go to the dance with me a week from Friday?"

"Why thank you, Craig."

And after that dance, his fingers crept up above the tops of her nylons. Her skin was even smoother and much warmer than the nylon. She tightened her legs, and he just sat there with his hand still while he appreciated that.

For Christmas, he gave her a locket and she gave him a tie clip. He wore the tie clip the next Sunday with the tie Sandy had given him. Linda came home for Christmas, and Dad insisted that he spend time with the family. He and Nancy talked on the phone, however, and she said that she understood. When school started up again, so did the sock hops. They resumed movie dates at the same time.

He enjoyed parking afterwards, and she seemed to enjoy it, too.

During one dance in late March, a thunderstorm swept in. It was coming down hard when the dance broke up, and he hadn't even brought an umbrella with him.

"Wait here," he told her at the gym entrance. "I'll get the car." A lot of others had the same idea, and he had to wait in a line of cars. When she saw him, she dashed to the car and he swung open that door.

"Look," she said, "just take me home. Don't try to walk me to the door. Wait until I'm there, and follow me. Leave your car locked." Well, he could hardly ask her to get into the back seat when it was raining like this, and she certainly didn't sound like she was mad at him. He did it her way. The porch light was on when they got there, and she held the door open for him. Her parents had been watching TV. The set was still on, but they were both standing up. There was a crack of thunder up close while he was trying to greet them, and the screen flickered. Her dad turned it off.

"Look," Nancy asked, "were you worrying about me?"

"We were starting to," her dad said.

"Well, you said that you didn't want me out in something like this. Can we do the same rules as last time?"

"I don't have anything to offer you," her mom said to Craig.

"Well, you didn't invite me, after all, and nobody expected this. I didn't even take an umbrella."

"You need something to dry you off," said her dad.

"I'll get it," said Nancy. "I'm wet anyway. Same rules? Midnight?"

"Sure," said her dad. Nancy and her mom went upstairs.

"Could I call my folks?" Craig asked. "They said I should have last time."

"Sure," Mr. Simmonds said. He gestured toward the phone. "And you might want to use the john down here, too. It's through that door. Doris didn't bake anything, but I'll see what I can find." He led Craig into the kitchen and then made two Coke floats. "Only vanilla ice cream. Keeping the freezer stocked with this crew is murder."

"Look," Craig said, "I'm sorry to impose on you."

"You're not imposing at all. Now, Nancy is, but she knows that we'd rather have her in here than out in that." Another crack of close thunder emphasized his statement. "Now, you'd better make that phone call. I know that other parents worry like I do."

He did, telling Mom that he'd probably be back around the same time as he was "that Saturday night." Even though Nancy had said "midnight" to her parents, he didn't want to say it in front of her dad. He did use the john. When Nancy came downstairs, she was wearing slippers and a flannel shirt and a different skirt. She handed a bath towel to him to dry his face, and her dad went upstairs.

She led him into the kitchen, and they stood and drank from their floats. When she licked the foam from his lips, he did the same to her. She set down her glass and went over to the other door to block it with a chair.

"The monsters had gone to sleep, but the storm woke them up. Mom went in to tell her babies that everything is going to be okay." When she came back to the table, she pulled out a chair and nudged him so that he would sit down. She picked up her glass, turned around, and sat on his lap facing his right. He put his left hand around her back and pulled her into a kiss. She carefully put her glass on the table behind her before putting her hands on his face for the kiss. They kissed and drank and licked lips for some time. When he put his hand under her shirt to her skin, she shivered. He put it on his own chest, and pulled her into another kiss. After a bit, she took his right hand between hers.

"Feels warm enough." She said. Before he could touch her, she got off his lap. Standing, she pushed up her shirt. She unsnapped her bra and pulled it out of her shirt. "Seen one like this?" It was a strapless model.

"My sister had one for the prom last year."

"That's why I got it, too. My dress had spaghetti straps." She sat down again, and he kissed her before moving his hand to her tits. Her tongue welcomed his, and her nipple rose into his hand. Later, she opened her shirt, and he licked her tits before kissing them. He worked his right hand under her shirt and stroked her tit. He reached all around her with his left hand until he could touch that nipple.

When he stroked up her leg under her skirt, she spread her legs. She wasn't wearing nylons, and her thighs were wonderfully soft and warm. His left hand had reached her panties on three dates, but he thought the fingers on his right hand were more sensitive, and he hoped to give them the sensations of the smooth nylon. She didn't stop him as he stroked up the inside of her thigh, though he thought she drew in her breath when he got close. She wasn't wearing any panties.

"Oh, Nancy," he said when he touched her pubic hair. She closed her legs on his arm, but then opened them again. "Oh, Nancy." He was repeating himself, but he couldn't think of another way to express his wonder. Somehow, he felt that he had permission to explore further. He slid his hand further down and felt her furry folds. That was her pussy, the ultimate of what a girl was.

"Gently," she said.

"Oh, yes." He was in holy territory, and he would have to be very gentle. He bent down to suck her nipple again. Meanwhile, he stroked over the mysterious folds from one smooth thigh to the other. Afraid he might be too harsh in his sucking, he licked the nipple instead. Slowly, holding his breath, he eased his middle finger between two folds. He felt dampness. Slowly, trying to be gentle, he drew his hand back sliding the finger within that slickness; slowly, he pressed inward again. She stiffened as he repeated this motion, but she didn't try to stop him. When she finally grabbed his arm, it was to pull it upward.

"Higher," she whispered. He stroked back and upward. He felt a bump. "Oh, yes." He rubbed that bump as gently as he could. She stiffened and straightened her back.

"Oh, Craig." She shuddered in his lap. Then she slumped down until he had to hold her up with his left arm. She was breathing heavily, and it was a long time before she straightened up. She had come. He was sure, and he hadn't even known that girls could come. And it was her response to what he had done. His boner was painfully twisted by her weight, but for once something else was more important than his boner. He had made Nancy come!

"Oh, Nancy," he said, "I love you."

"I love you, Craig." She put her arms around his neck and bent forward to kiss him.

With his tongue licking hers, he began to stroke her again. She eased back from the kiss and stared into his eyes. He kissed her face before bending to kiss her tits again. Then he straightened and matched her stare for stare. She finally closed her eyes just before she stiffened in his arms. She shivered, shivered again. She closed her legs on his arm and then let them fall open while she slumped again.

When she straightened this time, she pushed his arm away. After another minute of sitting on his lap, she stood up and walked out of the room. She used the john he had used earlier, and he heard the toilet flush and the water run. He sniffed at his hand while she was gone. The odor was delightful, but it was also incriminating. He thought that her dad would kill him if he detected it. When she came out of the john, he went in. When he had pissed, he took a long time washing his hands. He looked at his watch before drying his hands, and it was 11:47.

"It's about that time," she said when he came out.

"Yeah." He stood there a minute, while she looked up at him. Then he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again. The kiss was wet, but they had apparently used up their passion that night. The feel of her tits against his chest told him that she had put her bra back on. She started for the closet just before he heard footsteps on the stairs. She handed him his jacket while her dad watched. She opened the door for him, and he went to his car. When he looked back before getting in, she was still in the doorway. They waved.

Mom and Dad didn't stir when he got home, and he was soon in bed.

He couldn't forget the way Nancy had looked. He was certain that they could go all the way, if only they had a place and a time. Unfortunately, they didn't. The next Friday after the movies, she accepted his hands all the way up her legs. She wore panties, but he could hardly expect her to go to the movies without them. The next day, he persuaded Dad to let him have the car. He got a good fraction of the cash from his drawer, drove all the way into the city, and stopped at a drug store. He waited until no one could overhear him ask the pharmacist for a Trojan.

"Lubricated or dry?" Hell, he was so ignorant.

"Lubricated, I guess."

"Three or a dozen? We don't sell singles." He thought how hard this had been, and he had all that money with him.

"A dozen." The pharmacist handed the box over, and he paid what he asked. When he got home, he opened the box, hid one packet in the secret compartment of his wallet, and hid the rest of the box in the drawer of his night stand.

He had only the vaguest idea how to use them. Monday after school, with a whole box available, he got one out and experimented with it. He got the wrong side on at first, but it was easy after that. Imagining Nancy bent over and him entering her from the rear -- he was standing up at the time, and this seemed the only way to do it standing up -- he beat off into the rubber. It felt a little different, but this was a damned expensive alternative to Kleenex. He wouldn't use any of the others that way.

And, it turned out, he didn't use any of them the other way, either. There simply wasn't anywhere he and Nancy could go. He'd heard of having sex in the back seat, but his feet would stick out. It was too cold for that, and they never got far enough along that he could consider asking her. He didn't ask her for things, anyway. He moved slowly enough that she could say no. Well, he couldn't strip off her panties, lay her down on the seat, get between her legs, put on the Trojan, and then move forward slowly enough to give her the chance to say no. As a matter of fact, he didn't get as far as stripping off her panties.

The weather got warm, and the car was too hot when they got out of the dance or the movie instead of too cold. He drove to their special place with the windows open. The third time they were in the back seat with the windows open, he slipped a finger inside her panties. The position was awkward as hell, and he was forced to use his left hand, but he felt her moisture again.

"Oh, Nancy!" He stroked over the furry fold. He licked her nipple and felt her tense. She grabbed his arm with both hands and pulled it toward her. He was afraid his finger would damage some of the delicate parts down there, but instead of wincing, she trembled. When she relaxed, he got his arm out from her skirt and held her head against his shoulder. He kissed her forehead.

"You're nice," she said. Her voice sounded as if she meant it for a compliment, but Craig could think of other words he would rather she had used. He glanced at his watch. They had less than 20 minutes 'til 11:00. He kissed her, and she met his tongue with hers. The next time he looked at his watch, they had only ten minutes left.

"You'd better get yourself together," he said. As she started to dress, he got into the front seat. "I wish we had more time," he said when she got in beside him.

"Yeah. When? You can't get the car before dinner time, can you?"

"Not really. Saturday, maybe. If we went to an earlier show, would your parents let you stay out as late?" He started the drive to her place.

"Then we'd have to eat, or go hungry. . . . If we're going to do Saturday, why not a picnic?"

"I'd have to ask to get the car for long on Saturday. Would your dad object?" He visualized her spread out beneath him on the picnic blanket. He could see it so clearly that he wasn't sure that Mr. Simmonds couldn't see it, too.

"No. . . . Really, you know, I should provide the picnic -- the food."

"Maybe you bring the food and I bring the pop."

"That would work." They were turning into her driveway as she said this, and she waited until he got out and went over to her side to help her out. They kissed again until the light went on. After she went in, he drove home slowly.

He was figuring out how to bring up the issue of having the car some Saturday, when Mom asked him something totally different.

"They have the new aps for bag boys at the store. I brought one home for you."

"Mom," he said. "I don't want to work at the A&P next summer."

"Well," Dad said, "you aren't staying on an allowance for summer, and we sure aren't going to let you withdraw any of your savings." They were his savings, according to them, but Dad had his bank book.

"That's not what I mean. I want to work somewhere else."

"As a Professor? A stockbroker? President?" Dad was being his sarcastic worst.

"You always say that you know more than I do, but I know that you can't be president before you're 40. No. I know I have to start at the bottom, but I want to be Craig Schmidt, not Martha Schmidt's son."

"You're ashamed of me," Mom said.

"I'm not ashamed of being your son," he said without even crossing his fingers. "I am ashamed of people thinking that I need to have my mom watching over me at my age. I want to stand on my own two feet." The last sentence was a direct quotation from what they had told him about working the year before. They didn't even acknowledge it. 'C'mon, Craig, we want you to make decisions on your own; we'll tell you what decisions to make and how to make them.' The argument went on for a long time, without any let up.

"Well," Dad said finally, "it's all very well to say 'somewhere else.' You don't in fact have anywhere else. You're giving us the option of the A&P or maybe there is some other job in maybe another store." So Craig took the application up to his room. He didn't fill it out, though.

Instead, after school the next day, he started going around stores looking for summer work. Small stores didn't have jobs, and some of the larger ones had the workers already lined up. He finally thought of the hardware store where Dad bought things. Dad always took the car, but you could get there by bus. He asked about summer work, and they had some. He had to fill out an application and talk with the guy again, but he got the job starting the Monday after school got out. He didn't tell his parents until they got on his case again.

"Craig," Mom said. "I gave you that ap more than a week ago. Where is it?"

"I tore it up."

"Craig," Dad said in his most threatening tone.

"I'll get you another one, Craig, but this time I'm going to stand over you until you do it, and do it right."

"But I've already accepted the job in the hardware store."

"What?" Dad looked flabbergasted.

"I went to the hardware store. You can get there on the bus. I filled out their application, and I got the job. So there!" He pounded the table and got up.

"Son." A scream wouldn't have stopped him, but Dad's soft tone did. He looked back. "This is a full-time job?"

"Yeah, 39 hours a week. Weird hours, though. And you can't make me take the A&P job. So there!"

"Nobody is trying to make you take the A&P job," Dad said. "This job may be better; it may be worse, but it is your choice. We never wanted to go against your choice."

"Never?" Try 'had ranted and raved not two weeks ago.'

"You have to see the difference between the two choices we had discussed."

"Well I don't," Craig said.

"You originally told us where you did not want to work. Now you're telling us where you do want to work. You're not working is unacceptable. You're choosing your own workplace is responsible. If you had come in earlier with this job before your mother went to the trouble of getting the ap, we would have been even more impressed."

So, Craig sat down and finished his dinner. He had won, had declared his independence. That meant that Dad (and, especially, Mom) had lost. If Dad had lost, why was he smirking.

At the next dance, Nancy asked him about the picnic, and he had to tell her that he'd been fighting with Dad about something else. He hadn't had an opportunity to bring up borrowing the car. When he did, Dad agreed, but not for the next Saturday. That turned out to be lucky, since that day was wet.

The day they finally got out had, however, good weather and clear skies. It was muggy, but you couldn't have everything. Indeed, hot weather might be a good excuse for taking off some clothes.

He dressed in jeans, a tee shirt, and sneakers. Nancy wore a blouse, shorts, and sandals. She brought food, he brought a six-pack of root beer, and they both brought blankets.

After a little kissing, they ate. He'd found a really private place. The grass was high before they spread out the blanket, and there was only a small patch of it. The rest was woods. When they'd eaten and each had started on their second can of pop, he kissed her again. They kissed and made out for a while before he started to unbutton her blouse. She didn't make even token resistance.

With his tee-shirt and her blouse and bra off, they had a great kiss. He was lying on top of her, feeling her tits with his chest. Then he shifted his position, and they had another kiss with one of his hands on each tit. He got all the way off her to kiss her tits and suck her nipples. When she let him unbutton her shorts and push them down, she wasn't wearing panties.

He stroked her, gently with kisses on her mouth, her tits, her nipples, her belly. She writhed and moaned when she came.

As she lay there panting, he unbuckled his own belt and shoved his jeans down.

"No," she said. He scrabbled in his pocket for the Trojan he'd brought.

"No," she repeated when he showed it to her. "I like you a lot, Craig, but just no."

"Like me? Nancy, I love you."

"No." Nancy rolled over and sat up. She looked even sexier sitting up with her legs folded beside her and her shorts down around her knees than she had looked lying down. "You don't love me, Craig; you love Sandy. You're a great guy, and I do like you. When I give it up, though, it's going to be to a guy who winces every time I dance past in another guy's arms -- not a guy who winces when another girl dances past him. Whatever happened to the two of you, anyway?"

"I asked you to dance," He said. Nancy raised her eyebrows. "The first song Sandy and I ever danced to was Honey Bee -- you know, the Camerons. Sandy's a big fan of the Cameron sisters. She decided it was our song, though she hadn't ever told me so. Her parents insisted that she and I had to dance with other people -- her parents; it was not my idea. Anyway, I'd danced a couple of times with her that night, and I was looking for another partner. I like you; I've always liked you. I asked you to dance, and you accepted. The song was Honey Bee. That I had asked you was the crime of the century. I'm over her; it's just that she's with that sleazebag, Charlie Delray. I'm over her, but I don't want her to be hurt, and Charlie is poison."

"Craig, you're not over her. Anyway, I've told you my limits. I'm sorry if you organized this picnic thinking you were going to get laid. Still, I didn't tell you that."

"No. I might have told myself that. Anyway, you organized the picnic. I can't complain. You want to finish up and go back?"

"We could. We could stay here," He wanted to ball Nancy. He couldn't. He didn't want to break up with her, though. "I'll obey your rules."

"Craig, you're the nicest boy," Nancy said. "I've always liked you."

"But you don't love me."

"But you don't love me. That's the problem. I think I could love you if you loved me. I would love for someone to love me like you love Sandy."

"Anyway, do me one favor," he said.

"Depends," Nancy said. She was obviously expecting some sex act. He didn't want a sex act as a favor. Well . . . he'd probably accept one the way he felt now, but when he did something with a girl, even the things he'd already done with Nancy, that wasn't what he wanted the girl's reason to be. He wanted her to think he -- or at least the act -- was sexy.

"Don't call me nice. No guy wants a girl to think that he is nice." Strong, sexy, even dangerous. Never nice.

"That's too bad, because that's what you really are," Nancy said. "I won't say that again, though."

"Seal that promise with a kiss?"

They had a sitting kiss with his chest feeling her bare tits.

"Lie back," Nancy said. When he did, she lay over him and kissed him. He had his left hand on her tit and his right hand on her ass. She moved a little up on his body still kissing, and his hand went between her legs to her pussy lips.

When she rolled off, she brought his hand back to her pussy. He found the little bump, and stroked it slowly and gently.

"Oh!" she said. She was straining upward with every muscle tense. When she dropped back, she pushed his hand away. "Craig, you are . . . You have the sexiest finger." If she had been about to say that he was nice, she'd remembered in time. He rolled so that he was over her. He kissed her forehead and then, since she was breathing heavily, skipped her mouth to kiss her nearest tit.

When a cool breeze hit them, Nancy rolled away and began to fix her clothes. He had only a tee shirt to put on. They loaded everything into the car, and they were on their way.

"There is a dance next week," he said when they were getting close to her house.

"Yeah?"

"I mean, would you go with me? Don't tell your parents, though. It'll be an excuse to call you."

"I'd love to go with you, and I'd love to have you call, too. Stop along here." When he did, she leaned over and kissed him. "Steering wheel's a problem, but I still like to kiss you."

"Well, I like to kiss you, too." And, when he got to her house, he stood with his foot against the front door and gave her the longest, juiciest kiss of which he was able.

They were still a couple, and they still made out. They went to the prom together, and they made out in her kitchen until well after midnight. Still, he knew that they weren't going to go further.

When school ended, he went to work at the hardware store. Although away from the eyes of his mother, the work itself was a lot harder and he worked thirty-nine hours in less than five days. There weren't any tips, either, and the pay was by check. He deposited the check in "his" checking account, and got back some cash. The official pay was a little more per week than Dad had known about the year before, but, without tips, he actually had less in his wallet.

Nancy, too, was going to work. Their hours usually conflicted, but they went to a movie the second week.

Then, out of the blue, Sandy walked into the hardware store.

"Sandy!" he said. "Why are you here?" She held up her hand to show him a small screw, Phillips head, chrome finish. She followed him down the aisle to the right section. He thought he'd found the right package, and he showed it to her. "You sure he wants a Phillips head?"

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

"Well, that's what you've got." He led her to the cash register. Mr. Davis was handling a customer, and he waited for then to finish. Then, with Mr. Davis watching closely but not saying anything, he rang up the package of screws for Sandy. "Look, this is a bad place to talk. May I call you?"

"Sure." That was Saturday, and he was invited to the Simmonds for Sunday dinner the next day. He was off Monday, though, and he called then.

"Sandy," he said when her mother had got her to the phone, "this is Craig Schmidt."

"Hello, Craig."

"Are you still mad at me?"

"I wouldn't say I was ever mad at you," Sandy said. She had put him through hell, but she wouldn't say that she had been mad.

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

"If I didn't, how do you know?"

"You never told me," he said. "You told plenty of other people when you were mad at me."

"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."

"Well, I went looking for you when our song was playing, and you were enjoying yourself in Nancy Simmonds' arms."

"Look, we've both said how it looked to us. That is the worst time of more than a year going together. What I don't know is what you've been doing since." She told him, without quite mentioning Charlie. He told her lots of what he'd been doing without quite mentioning Nancy. She was impressed with his grades. He was getting antsy about the time when Sandy said that her mom needed the phone.

He got himself lunch, PBJs since he was running late. He took the dinner that Mom had packed and got to work on the bus with nearly half an hour to spare.

Well, if Sandy would speak to him, maybe she'd meet him. It couldn't be a date thing, but they could talk in the park somewhat between their houses. He called her Tuesday to ask her. She agreed to meet him at the entrance nearest her house.

"You work at the hardware store?" Sandy asked when they had both got there.

"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."

He'd been learning, and he was fascinated by what he'd learned. Sandy listened to him until he got scared that he was boring her, but she seemed interested. Maybe she was interested in him.

They talked until Sandy had to go back for lunch. They made an appointment; it wasn't really a date, for Thursday. He made some lunch for himself, and cleaned up the kitchen -- since the mess was what he'd done -- and the bathroom -- since that was his assigned chore besides his room.

Getting himself off, he thought of Sandy. She was much more exciting than the magazines he usually used. Somehow, although he'd seen almost none of her, she was as exciting as Nancy. And he'd seen -- once -- and felt -- several times -- everything important on Nancy. What would it be like to see Sandy come the way he'd seen Nancy come?

Thursday morning, he felt a little guilty about what he'd thought about her. Sandy, though, talked cheerfully and innocently to him. They talked about school subjects. Sandy had taken one marking period of typing, and he wanted that for college. He thought he should take that Senior year. It would make college themes much easier, and lots of kids did that. Sandy, on the other hand, was thinking of taking the full year that the school taught. She'd had an A in typing, which made repeating it sound ridiculous. She explained, though, that the teacher thought it would be all right. Typing was a skill, like -- he thought -- basketball, all that doing it for a year would do was hone that skill.

Neither had a clear vision of the future. That was more sensible of her than it was of him. She would be starting her junior year, and hadn't even decided whether to try college.

He was about to be a senior, and would have to choose his college and his major. He was better in the sciences than in English or History, but he didn't really shine. In fact, the learning he did in the hardware store was more interesting than any of the classes he'd taken the previous year. He only said part of that to her.

They made a date, maybe a date, for the next Tuesday. Then she left for lunch

After his own lunch, he was in his room beating off. He tried to keep it to times when nobody else was in the house. He had exciting thoughts about Sandy, and he tried to keep himself excited as long as possible before going to his peak. When he was near, though, the phone rang. He was tempted to ignore it, but the mood was spoiled. He went downstairs to get it.

"Hello," he said.

"Well, aren't you cheerful?" Nancy's voice came back. "Did I interrupt something important?"

"Mo. Not at all."

"I called this morning, and nobody answered. This is my late day, and I'm calling a half hour before I have to leave. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he said. "I was out this morning."

"And it's none of my business where you were. Well, you're right."

"I was in Spencer Park."

"Oh? What was happening?" Nancy asked. He didn't want to tell her. But, really, it was her business. If he knew where he stood with Sandy, he would have told Nancy, but he didn't.

"Nothing much. It was a nice day, and I walked around. I stand a lot in the store, but I don't walk much." They talked a little more, and then she had to go to her job. It was in a grocery store -- a Jewel -- but her work was stocking shelves.

Somehow, when he went back to his bedroom to finish his business, he got out a magazine which was harder core than his usual Playboys. He came, but he felt vicious.

He got through the rest of the week. Tuesday, he was scared that Sandy would call off, or had forgotten, their date to talk. The sky looked threatening. When he'd been in the park entrance for only a few minutes and before ten, the time that they had set, Sandy came up. With the look of the weather, they had their choice of park benches. Unfortunately, it began to rain soon.

"Can we move under the trees?" Sandy asked. The trees wouldn't provide shelter long. If the wind got worse, it wouldn't provide much shelter even now.

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

She looked doubtful for one minute, but then she went with him. The rain was heavier before they got inside, but the real storm came afterwards. They sat in his livingroom looking out at the storm. Her blouse was wet enough to plaster against her tits. He could remember those tits, although they looked even larger now. Still, they weren't his any longer. He talked of innocent things and kept his thoughts to himself. He had planned on PBJs for lunch, and didn't think he should offer them to Sandy. He did split a coke with her.

When the rain let up, she agreed to meet Thursday. Then she ran home. She didn't call to say that she'd arrived, but he didn't hear an ambulance, either.

Wednesday, he concentrated on learning in the afternoon while the carpenters were there. He and Mr. Davis alternated in front starting a little after five while the other ate dinner. Then the hobbyists and homeowners came in. Sometimes, Mr. Davis left him on the register while helping a customer. Occasionally, if the request was simple enough, Mr. Davis trusted him to find what they guy wanted.

Thursday, he'd planned to get there early. Sandy, however, was there before him. She rose when he got close.

"Sorry, am I late?" he asked.

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

"Want to walk or want to sit?" She wanted to walk, and she didn't seem to want to talk. Well, there'd been a time when they would walk hand in hand, but he'd blown those times.

"Want to head back?" he asked when they got to the entrance he'd used. She didn't seem to want to talk, but she didn't look like she was going to turn around.

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

"Sure. Want to come home to get it?" That would mean her in his house yet again. Then he remembered that he hadn't cleaned up the house yet. He didn't really clean more than a few rooms, but he was supposed to get the place neat on his off days.

She didn't make a comment, though, when he moved the paper off the couch.

"Want to sit here?" he asked gesturing to the couch.

"I broke up with Charlie yesterday." That was great news, but she didn't look like she thought so.

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

"No," she said.

"Does that mean I'm allowed to kiss you?" She looked like it did mean that, and he went to her and kissed her. At first, he was kissing her and holding back. Then she returned the kiss and opened her mouth when he pressed in his tongue. It went on and on until he needed to get his breath.

"I've wanted to do that for the longest time," he said. "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."

He went back to the kisses, and she acted as though she welcomed them. When he broke the next time, it was to go to the sofa. It wasn't the back seat of a car, but it was softer, more private, better in every way. He kissed over her face, her mouth again, then his hands -- defying the order of his brain -- returned to her lovely tits which they hadn't touched in an eon. That was too much, though. He controlled himself.

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

"Don't leave hickeys."

That was wonderful to hear. He kissed her again and began to unbutton her shirt.

"Give me a minute," Sandy said. She stood up. Well, he'd told her he'd stop. In the old days, though, when he'd gone too far, she usually let him back up and still make out in the permissible ways. Now, she looked like she was going to leave. Instead of getting dressed again, though, Sandy took off her blouse and bra. She walked over to where he was sitting and offered him her tits.

He kissed them, sucked their nipples, buried his face between them. Had she been that soft and full before? "Come back," he asked her and tugged her toward the sofa. She sat with only that invitation. He had her warm, willing mouth under his while her soft, full breasts attracted his hands.

He couldn't get enough of her, but he damned-well tried. Finally, he remembered the Coke she had wanted.

"That's okay." Sandy said. Then she looked at her watch. "I have to get back, though."

"Can I walk you?"

"Through the park." They sort of turned their backs on each other while they were getting dressed again. He'd kept his clothes mostly on, but they weren't in shape for others to see -- especially not when he was with Sandy. If his shirt had come this loose in a basketball game, that wouldn't have embarrassed him.

"One last kiss," he said. She gave him a last kiss, long and wet and deep. He could feel her warm and soft against his boner, her breasts soft and firm-tipped against his chest. Then they went out, and walked across the park. They had only light kisses there, but he captured her hand after the last one. He couldn't keep her, but he had the feeling of holding her for another minute.

"I don't want to leave you," he said. "Tuesday?"

"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 was really the last one. He didn't want it to end, but it finally did. He watched her until she was out of sight, and then he went back among some trees where nobody could see him to adjust his cock. It still bulged out his jeans, but none of the passers by seemed to notice.

He'd thought himself so overworked earlier. Now, he had almost nothing to do until Tuesday. He got the whole house neat and scrubbed the bathroom that afternoon. He had a brainstorm that night. He called a few record stores Friday morning until he found one that still stocked Honey Bee. It was in Chicago, but he scheduled time to go there Monday morning. Sunday, he cleaned his room. Then while Mom and Dad were in their room, he called Nancy.

"Long time no see," she said. "Even hear."

"Well, last Saturday, I was working in the hardware store when Sandy Jackson walked in." There was a long silence before Nancy spoke again.

"I'm listening."

"Well, we've talked a couple of times since, in the park, mostly."

"Are you back together?" Nancy asked. "Don't you think I deserve to be told instead of seeing you somewhere together?"

"Well, that's a good question. I don't think were back together. We're friends again, but we haven't had a date yet. Maybe we won't have a date."

"Well, I always knew I only had you on loan."

"That's not really true," he said.

"Remember what you told me at the picnic? I'm not sure that the babies aren't listening to what I say."

"Are they on the line?"

"Nope," she said. "We only have one line."

"Well, I remember what you said on the picnic." She'd said many things, especially no.

"And was I right? Are you really in love with her?"

"God, Nancy, I don't know," he said. "In some ways, I am, I guess."

"Well, it was fun while it lasted."

"I'm not sure that we should date right now. I don't mean to reject you, but you said that you deserve to be told. I'm telling you. If I'm not being clear to you, it's because I'm not clear, myself."

"Well, Craig," Nancy said, "You've always been a nice guy." He didn't want to hear that, but maybe that was why she'd said it. She hung up before either had said goodbye.

Monday, he got to the record store and back with time to eat lunch before getting to work early.

Maybe he could look out and see her coming down the walk. Then, he could have the song playing upstairs when she came in the door. He couldn't invite her upstairs to hear it. That was his bed room. He was dithering so much and being scrupulous about cleaning the living room and kitchen that he hadn't even touched his bedroom. Well, she'd never see it.

She rang the bell before he looked out, and well before (when he checked his watch) ten.

"Am I too early?" Sandy asked when he opened the door. She couldn't be too early. Well, if Mom were here or he'd been still asleep, that would have been too early.

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

"You like?"

"I like. Come here and I'll show you." She did, and he did. Their kiss -- and it was theirs; she kissed him as ardently as he kissed her -- was long and wet. They sank down on the sofa, and they kissed again. He tried to not go too fast and to give her a chance to say no. She did not say it; she didn't even act doubtful.

He eased her blouse and bra off, and she pulled his head against her tit when he did. She was sweet to kiss and sweet to feel. Her center was calling him, but he tried to resist. When his hand touched one leg, she spread them. He stroked slowly up her thigh, but she didn't stop him. Then he reached her panties, and he knew what treasures they covered.

"Oh, Sandy," he said.

"Oh, Craig."

He got off the sofa to ease her down. Then she was lying on it while he was kneeling on the floor. Her skirt was up in front. He kept stroking her panties while kissing her tits and her stomach. Then he went back to her wonderful mouth and the rest of her face. He wanted to kiss all of her.

She stiffened, and he hoped that he knew what that meant. She certainly wasn't trying to push him away. He kept stroking her panties, softly, while he kissed her and teased her tongue with his. She grabbed his head and held him there. She moaned into his mouth, and he was certain that she had come.

He kept his hand still, and she was breathing so deeply that a kiss would choke her. He could kiss more of her sweet face, though, and he did.

"Close your eyes," he said. When she did, he kissed them, kissed her sweet nose. He was harder than he'd ever been, but even that discomfort was part of the pleasure of holding her safe. When she looked like she could hold her breath for it, his tongue searched her mouth again. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he could taste that she had come.

"Turn over," he said. She did, and he got to kiss her back. He could feel the silken smoothness of her thighs like this. The panties were nylon, which was supposed to be smooth. He loved stroking them and feeling the butt under a layer or two of cloth. The nylon, though, was not as smooth as her skin.

Still, he could stroke the part that covered her sweet pussy. He did, as gently as he could possibly move his clumsy hands. While he was stroking her, he kissed the backs of her ears. Then he kissed down her spine from her neck to the band of her panties. She was stiffening again, and he wanted to see her come this time. Seeing from the back wasn't enough.

"Turn over again," he whispered in her ear. She did, and her nipples were sticking out of her large tits. He kissed them and sucked them while still stroking the crotch of her panties. The red part around the nipples puffed out. When she came this time, he watched her writhe. Then, as she settled back down, her skin mottled. Her clear skin had been among the beautiful features he could mention to her friends, but this mottling was more beautiful yet. He kissed her forehead again. As she relaxed and her skin cleared, he leaned over and hugged her. "Sandy," he crooned, "Sandy."

He could have gone on forever, or at least until his parents got back. (Linda had a summer job which began and ended later.) Sandy, however, had a mother at home expecting her. He looked at his watch. It wasn't noon, but it was getting close.

"This has been lovely," he said. "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?" she asked. Sandy was always generous.

"Well, I can cook." Then he thought how poorly he did. "Maybe I should show you where things are."

"And what your mom would miss." That was an important question. This morning deserved a lunch better than PBJs.

She made toasted cheese sandwiches. He only got the Cokes. She was a great cook, and she kissed wonderfully, too. She wore her blouse without the bra, and he could feel her tits against his chest whenever they clinched.

"You know," Sandy said, "you gave me my first real kiss."

"Back at Barb's birthday party?"

"You remember?" Did he remember? He thought he remembered every one of their kisses. Maybe not individual kisses once they'd started making out, but every single kissing event.

"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."

"For that matter, I remember our second dance." She'd been in his arms, and she'd danced well. He wished he'd got the record out and put it on the player, but this was too sweet a time to leave her. And then he saw disappointment in her eyes. Probably she was remembering looking for him to dance their song, and she was certainly remembering seeing him with another girl in his arms.

Well, there was something she should know. "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?" Sandy asked.

"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?" he asked.

"Don't open another bottle."

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

"I'll do it," she offered.

"You can dry. I might not be able to cook but I can wash dishes." He took her in his arms again. His tongue explored her mouth, but he was most conscious of her tits against his chest.

"You know, I feel odd like this," Sandy said.

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

Sandy moved so that her tits were pushed forward even more. He could see little mounds in the cloth of her blouse made by her nipples. This wasn't the time for petting, though. This was the time for washing dishes. So they worked until the kitchen was spotless. Sandy was as neat as she was sexy. If she was that neat, she'd want him neat before he touched her again. He washed his hands at the kitchen sink.

Then they had a kiss, a kiss with her tits against his chest again. He'd had a boner forever now, and he no longer tried to hide it. She tasted so good, and she felt so good, too. All of her felt so sexy, but her tits felt sexiest of all. He held her from in back, kissing the back of her head while stroking her tit and pussy.

"With you," he said, "even washing dishes is fun." When they went into the living room, she lay back on the sofa while he kissed her and opened her blouse. Then he could kiss more of her. He stroked the smoothness of her leg and kissed her belly as well as her tits. He was in heaven.

Until she pushed him away. She said, "Just a minute." Well, he'd had loads of time kissing and touching her, and half the pleasure was his feeling that she wanted it, too. He wasn't done, but he'd never be done. But when she sat up, she took her blouse off instead of buttoning it. She sat there letting him look at her topless glory. A minute later, she took off her skirt, too.

She lay back, and he knelt on the floor to kiss her, first on the mouth while he stroked her sweet skin, and then the skin again. She, too, stroked him. He thought of taking his tee shirt off to feel her fingers on his skin, but his hands were too busy. Now, he was kissing her and stroking her through her panties. She was stiffening under his lips. He thought how recently he hadn't even known that girls could come, and now he knew that this girl, his girl, was going to come. Then he thought that Nancy had seemed to like it better without the panties in the way, and he certainly had. He put his hands on the tops of her panties.

"Sandy, may I?" She lifted herself so that he could slide them down. He could see his love in all her glory! He could feel her glory as well. When he slid a finger between those lower lips, he could feel her moisture, her welcome for him.

"Oh Sandy. Oh, love," he said. And she was his love, and she loved him too. He could feel that warmth, that moisture, that love. He stroked over the little bump at the top of her slit.

"Be gentle there."

"Oh yes. Tell me if I'm too rough. Oh, Sandy!" She was wonderful. She was wet and warm. She was responding to him. She stiffened under his strokes. She was coming, and all he could do was kiss her and say her name.

"Sandy," he said when she seemed to relax, "I love you." And he loved her so much; he'd loved her so long. This minute, though, he loved her more than he ever had before.

"I love you, too." And that declaration made his love for her -- and his desire for her leap upward. He had to kiss her; he had to hug her; he had to have her.

But first he would kiss her. "Close your eyes," he said when he'd kissed her forehead. He kissed each of them and her forehead again. He was holding her center in his hand, and he couldn't kiss her mouth or her chest while she was breathing so hard.

He slipped his left arm under her, and hugged her. When her breathing eased, he kissed her mouth. Later, she hugged him and then kissed him. She had kissed him back; from the first time, she had kissed him back. Now, naked in his arms, she was kissing him; she put her tongue in his mouth. The touch of their tongues was arousing, but the idea that she had taken that step was even more arousing. He was harder than he'd ever been in his life.

"I love you, Craig," she said when she had let go, he had let go, and she had sat up. She loved him, and he loved her.

He wanted her, wanted her so hard that it ached. Was it possible that she wanted him? Nancy had said that she would have made love with him if she had loved him and he had loved her. Nancy was another kind of girl, not a bad girl, but not as good as Sandy. Still, he had to ask.

"I love you, Sandy. Do you?" He couldn't take her here. He owed her at least a bed. "Do you want to go up to my room?" Then he thought of what his room meant. He had done everything to clean up the living room and the downstairs that she would see, even the bathroom she might want to visit. That hadn't left him any time to clean up his room. Did he even have the record where he could get it?

And while he had been thinking that, Sandy had been thinking something else. He couldn't see what it was, but it wasn't acceptance. Was she shocked that he would suggest that? Was she sorry she had let him undress her? Was she even sorry she had come here today? He couldn't tell, but he held his breath. She took so long that he had to breathe.

"I don't know where your room is," she said finally. Well, he could deal with that.

He led her up the stairs by the hand. She didn't pull back, didn't even reach for her clothes on the sofa. When they got to the top of the stairs, his room looked even worse than he'd remembered. She didn't object, and he pulled the bottom sheet straight. They kissed, and he helped her down in the bed. He took off her shoes and socks, then tucked the sheet around her. Now, he had things to do.

He got the record out of the drawer and out of its cover. Then he fumbled getting it to play. When the song came on, Sandy smiled at him for the first time since he'd asked her. It could only have been minutes, but seemed like it had been days.

"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."

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

"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."

While it was playing, he kissed her and then sat on the bed to undress. He had his back to her until he was naked and standing. Then, when he turned around, she looked at his cock and looked scared. He kissed her, and she kissed back with only the sheet between their bodies. He could reach under the sheet and feel all of her while they kissed. All that had taken so long that the record had nearly run out.

He got up to put the needle back to the beginning. Before coming back to bed, he got a Trojan out of the box he'd hidden in his dresser. He got into bed under the sheet with her. They kissed again, and he felt every inch of her naked body against every inch of his naked body. He was so hard he was twitching, and he had to get the Trojan on before he came all over her.

"We," he said while putting it on, "don't want any babies." He got himself on his knees between her legs. She didn't say no, but she looked nervous. Hell! If she was nervous, he was scared shitless. Still, his desire was greater than his fright. He kissed her, kissed her tits again. He felt those lips, rubbed over then lightly, got them apart. He got his cock between them.

"My honey bee must never roam," sang Peggy Cameron.

"Sandy," he said, "I do love you." He pushed. For a moment, it didn't go in. Then it did. "Oh, Sandy!"

"Stay here by your honey's honey comb," said the record while he slid into his honey's honey comb. And it was sweet. Even through the rubber Sandy felt sweet. She seemed to wince, but he couldn't stop. He pushed in until their pubic hair met. He pulled out more rapidly, shoved in faster yet, pulled out again, almost coming all the way out. He'd never felt like this, and he could feel that he was about to come. He thrust into her harder than before, and he could feel it boiling up and pulsing out of him.

His body was stiff as a steel beam, and he was pulsing into her softness. Then he was a limp dishrag, and he dropped onto her. He struggled up on his elbows so that her tits were only touching him instead of crushed under him. He was puffing like a steam engine, but he managed to say, "I love you. Are you all right?"

"I'm OK." She didn't sound particularly OK. It had been the most wonderful minute of his life, and it didn't seem to have been even pleasant for her. She wasn't crying, though, and soon after saying that, she hugged him.

"You should fly along with me
I want you for my honey bee," she sang. It might not have been as much fun for her as it had been for him, but she was still making it a romantic happening.

"Honey, I want to be, be, be
Your honey bee," he sang to her. He loved her, and he would want her again. They were together, back together, together in a way he could never have imagined before. He could see problems looming ahead, but those were problems for the two of them.