The Nonconformist

by Ken Cohen

Chapter 17

A Good Woman

Grade 13 was hard work. They had been loaded down with homework and assignments for the first three months of the school year. The first semester exams late in November were out of the way. They were pretty tough, he thought, must be prepping us for university.

But marks were important now. For grade 13 students, studying had been the order of the day. First semester grades would be on transcripts submitted with uni applications for the coming fall.

And the triumphant football championship was won and out of the way.

Now everyone looked forward to Christmas. Christmas lights and Christmas ads were showing up. Radio stations played Bing Crosby singing Irving Berlin's White Christmas half a dozen times a day.

Then the unexpected had happened, a couple days earlier. Danny had been deep in thought since then.

He had no problem relating to girls, with none of the latent sexual tensions "normal" boys often felt with them. He felt relaxed, talked easily with them, even flirted effortlessly—but never seriously, it was always just a bit of fun. He learned how to wink and smile and grin and laugh. How to ask about them, and listen carefully, and compliment with subtlety. He was learning to socialize.

But he had never had a crush on a girl. He didn't get the feeling he had when he looked at certain boys. He didn't know why he had reacted to Lois as he had. There was no sexual attraction for her either before or after, but he'd responded instantly and enthusiastically to her approach. It complicated the picture, that was certain. Food for thought.

He'd known Sharon Miller since public school. This year he had a couple classes with her. They would talk occasionally but that was about it.

Sharon was short, and maybe a bit homely with her glasses and her earnest, searching, quizzical looks. But Danny suspected she could be a really cute girl if she tried. In terms of personality, she seemed introspective and took life seriously. He sensed that she lacked confidence. He wondered why. He felt something for her akin to empathy.

She often appeared baffled, as though not quite sure what might be next. Yet she seemed good at memorizing. In English class she memorized entire Shakespearean soliloquies with no trouble.

Still, she always seemed to get by with barely enough to pass. She rarely raised her hand to answer questions. She would ask questions that seemed "off," as though so elementary the answers should have been obvious. Once in a while she might think she had an intelligent point to make, but didn't express it very well.

Mostly, as they say, she was trying to survive high school under the radar where you're invisible. Quite a few kids were like that, the serious ones for whom life seems like a burden.

One day, Sharon's invisibility disappeared for a short time.

In French class, Danny's desk was next to hers. French was the last class before lunch. The sleepyhead lazy students who skip breakfast every day were either dozing or starving. The hungry ones were on edge waiting for the bell to ring.

The French teacher was a well respected competent woman with many years experience by the name of Mrs. Bird. Her classes were strict and orderly. She explained every lesson with clarity and precision while managing to keep things interesting. Most of them could follow her, understand what she was talking about and where she was going with it.

Mrs. Bird was describing the ins and outs of the present perfect verb tense with examples of how to conjugate various verbs with this tense.

Sharon sneezed and farted, loudly and simultaneously.

That woke up the sleepyheads. And brought down the wrath of the irritated folks craving their first food of the day. The general effect was to produce pretty loud guffaws and a general murmur of titillation and delight that lasted way too long.

For Sharon it was a humiliation of mythic proportions. A couple of the snobby kids (you know the type, always looking in mirrors, fiddling with their hair and, in the case of girls, makeup) made faces of disgust and began planning to spread word that Sharon achieved the near impossible duo. There was no precedent for it that Danny knew of, so it would definitely hit the gossip circuit full tilt after the class. The rumour mongers would have a field day feeling superior while narrating the event, since of course none of them ever fart.

Danny glanced over. Sharon's face was bright red. She cringed and slowly brought her hands to her face. Then her right hand shot into the air. "Mrs. Bird, may I please be excused?"

"Yes you may, Sharon."

She scurried from the classroom, returning 10 minutes later. Danny felt bad for her. He couldn't help but find it funny. He smiled at first but didn't let her see. When she returned, he gave her a look of what he hoped was empathy for her predicament.

After the class, she left quickly. Danny packed up his stuff and headed for the cafeteria. She was sitting alone. Instead of eating with his usual cronies, he crossed the room and approached her. "Hi Sharon, would you like company?"

She looked up at him. "Hi Danny. Sure."

"Okay, I'll leave my stuff here a minute and get a drink, be right back. Can I get you something while I'm up there?"

"Sure," she replied, "a coffee, black."

He returned a few minutes later with milk and coffee.

He had personally experienced the elephant in the room syndrome, didn't like it and wanted to avoid it with Sharon. So he placed the matter on the table: "Hey, look," he said, "about what happened this morning, unfortunately, sometimes we have accidents. I guarantee it's happened to other kids too. Try not to dwell on it, it's really not worth it. It'll be forgotten in a day or two."

"You're sweet, I appreciate it. Thanks."

"You know, you're pretty good in French (not exactly true), could you help me to understand these verb conjugations she's been teaching? I think I just need a bird's eye view of what's going on."

She starts giggling.

"What's funny?"

"Bird's eye view, get it? A bird's eye view of the French course."

"Oh, geez, I didn't mean to do that, sorry. I'm so accustomed to Mrs. Bird's name. I was being serious. I'm, um, always serious, I'm not good with jokes or double meanings or stuff like that. I guess I should say an overview. You know, like the expression 'not being able to see the forest for the trees,' when the details of something seem overwhelming so you can't understand the whole context of the thing?"

She was quiet for a moment, thinking about something. Then she looked at him. "That's why I have so much trouble with school work. All I can ever see is a huge pile of details. It doesn't matter how good or bad the teacher is. The details kind of overwhelm me and I lose my perspective of what's going on, of what we're learning about. Does that make sense?"

"It makes perfect sense. The overview, that's something I try to keep track of with every course. It's part of how I study. I make summaries and outlines, I write them out almost endlessly when studying. Writing stuff out helps me learn. And I keep all those notes for studying when the final exams come. Isn't that how everyone studies?"

"I don't. I just read everything and try to memorize it."

He didn't say so, but he suspected something like that. One thing he noticed about high school early on was that no one ever taught them how to study. He never thought about asking anyone for help with studying, or helping another student to study. He just assumed you had to do it yourself.

Part of being wrapped up inside himself, so to speak, was that he only focussed on himself. He knew other students sometimes studied together, some even had regular small study groups. He always felt a bit jealous of that but never had the nerve to ask to join a group. He was waiting for an invitation, but no one invited him, and he was afraid to ask. So maybe now he was thinking about helping Sharon?

"Hey, Sharon, maybe you and I could study together and help each other. That is, if you aren't already in a study group. I've never done that."

"You sure about this? You're a lot smarter than me."

"Look, I don't want to kind of push myself at you. I just thought it would help us both. People say you can learn more by studying with other people than studying alone. Don't you think it's worth a try?"

"All right, if you really want to, then sure."

"Do you want to come to my place, or should I come to you? It doesn't matter to me. Whichever is easiest for you is what we should do."

"If you don't mind, I'll come to your place," she said, quickly. "Can you write down your address and phone number?"

So he did and they set up the first meeting for Saturday afternoon at his house.

After making this "date" with Sharon, he began wondering why he did it. It wasn't like a social date. Did he have some kind of subconscious motive? No, he didn't think so. What gave him the idea was this vague feeling it would be interesting to teach someone. It got him thinking about the time he said 'good morning' to Gerald Borstin. It was the same feeling, wanting to help. Except with the wrong person. The living definition of misanthropic is not someone you should try to help—you should avoid them.

Now he was trying to do it again. But with Sharon, who seemed like the opposite of Gerald Borstin.

He reminded himself of what Dr. Margol was always telling him: when you have a feeling you don't like or don't understand, stop and think about it, don't just squish it away in a corner of your mind. He should think about this vague desire to help other people. Maybe what they say is true about getting more satisfaction from giving than receiving. Well, let's see how things go with Sharon.

Sharon showed up at his house ten minutes late. Danny, a tad neurotic about lateness, was a tad annoyed before they began.

Should we go to my bedroom to study? he wondered. Wouldn't look good, mom might intervene, what we might be doing might be unacceptable. Or it might upset her if we weren't doing it. Hah.

But she does want proof her son is a normal boy. If she catches us in flagrante delicto, she'll scream but also sleep well tonight. Well, at least that ain't happening.

My bedroom might not go over well with Sharon either, he thought. She'll think I'm trying to get into her panties and hate me before we even begin studying.

Even though I'm not much interested in her panties.

Well, maybe a little interested.

I mean, I've never done that, haven't even thought about it much. Except, there was Lois. What the hell, I can be curious, can't I?

I mean, hey, I'm 17, my whole existence is about sex, isn't it? I don't get any nowadays, not since Kenny left. Aren't most teenage boys walking sex machines, like Mike says, primed to fire on very little notice? I guess any type of sex is better than no sex.

I have a dirty mind. What I'm thinking about is ridiculous. I have so many sexual hangups.

I think I'll need an arranged marriage. Hah! I should ask mom for help with that…

Besides, I'm not attracted to Sharon. I genuinely didn't ask her here for sex. We're going to study.

Lois. Don't want that to happen again, hard to control, though, taken by surprise and next thing you know… KABOOM!

So he decided to study at the dining room table, its white Irish linen table cloth covered by heavy yellowed plastic that had once been translucent.

Anyway, mom will be here to chaperone. No chance of anything naughty. I'm safe with mom around.

It turned out Barbara was invited to a birthday party at one of her friends. His mom could be such a grouch at home, she made his life miserable at times, but she could also smile and behave well in social settings when she wanted to… it was like Shakespeare put it: All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.

When Sharon arrived, Barbara greeted her, then left for the party. Danny actually kissed his mom goodbye at the door, said he hoped she enjoyed herself, told her to forget her problems for the afternoon. It would be her first social outing since Alex died. He was glad she agreed to go.

He took Sharon to the dining room. He sat on one side of the table, Sharon on the other. They spent an hour going through an overview of the French course from the start of the year. He showed her how he organized his studying of languages.

"Look, Sharon, I don't understand why writing helps me learn so well, but it's kind of like practising piano, you learn it and improve by doing it, not just by reading the music on the paper it's written on. Writing is doing. You learn when writing. You focus on it, do it neatly and in an organized way. All that helps you learn.

"Although amazingly, Glenn Gould learns new music without practising. I read an article about him. He spends weeks reading and studying and memorizing the sheet music for even the most advanced piano work, after which he can play it on the piano with technical near perfection the first time he actually plays the music. But he's a genius, unlike us ordinary humans."

"Who's Glenn Gould?"

"The greatest pianist who ever lived. He's phenomenal and kind of weird from what I've heard. He lives in Toronto. I have his Bach records, they're truly remarkable performances, like no one else. You can hear him hum as he plays. He's one of a kind."

They were at it a long time. Eventually Sharon yawned and asked, "Do you have any coffee? Instant coffee? I start to get sleepy after a while, it helps keep me awake."

"My mom has coffee in the kitchen. Come." They stepped into the kitchen. He showed her the kettle and the jar of Tasters Choice, the cups and mugs, the spoons. She did the rest.

"Should I make you some too?"

"No thanks, I don't drink coffee."

"Oh yeah, I think you told me that before."

They sat together at the kitchen table as Sharon sipped the hot drink. One of his hands rested on the table. She placed her free hand over his. He looked down at her hand. She kept it there.

"Thanks, Danny, I actually can't wait to do some of this on my own now that you've shown me. It makes sense to me, I know it's going to work. It has to be better than what I've done in the past. I see now how to use your approach for studying."

She moved a little closer to him, her hand still on his. He sat there, uncertain. Removing her hand, she reached around him, pulled him a little closer, leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek. He felt startled but also a bit aroused. He turned slightly and looked at her.

"May I kiss you?" he asked solemnly. He expected her to decline, but instead she answered by leaning in and almost in slow motion moving her lips to his. They kissed, softly.

Then he asked, "Wanna go sit in the living room, it'll be more comfortable than here?"

"Okay."

He suddenly noticed he had a problem. His mind felt a little too close to panic. My pants … bulging … so fast, didn't take long! Huh? This is a girl, isn't supposed to happen, what if she sees, she'll think I'm an animal? Oh shit, embarrassing, can't believe this. With a girl.

He remembered Lois. And an echo of some old memory deep in his mind. A feeling of shame.

He tried to hide the bump, quickly pushing his dick down. She noticed, smiled, said "it's okay, Danny, come on" and led awkward him to the couch.

Now, as said before, Sharon wasn't an especially attractive girl. But to this teenage boy now in a state of rising heat, it didn't much matter. He wasn't thinking about her problems. He wasn't exactly thinking.

He wasn't quite sure just why, but he liked her, had some kind of feeling for her, though uncertain exactly what that feeling was. He told his mother's voice echoing in the back of his subconscious to go to hell.

But he also thought, I'm a gentleman. I won't force anything. Sexual aggressiveness isn't in my nature, especially with a girl. Especially this girl. I've known her many years. I have some kind of feeling for.

She could be hurt. Emotionally hurt. I like her too much to risk hurting her.

But kissing seems okay. She started it. Kids our age kiss the opposite sex. Even mom might be okay with that.

So, comfortably seated on the couch, they kissed. He hardened again. She moved her hand down and felt him through his pants. She held it there and whispered to him "Can I …"

He was reluctant. "Sharon," he murmured, "I'd love to, and you're so sweet, but I don't know where this is going and I don't want to hurt your feelings. You can take this pretty far, I won't stop you but, um, I'm worried about your feelings. I wouldn't even have kissed you if I didn't have feelings for you, I do, but I don't understand what they are, or how far they go. And there are things about me you don't know."

She stopped. Looked at him. He looked at her. She said, "Listen, Danny, we've never been close but we've known each other for a long time. Talk to me. What's on your mind?"

"It wouldn't be good. I can't tell you more. I can kind of make you happy but … not how you deserve. And I'm… I… uh, I… - "

She interrupted, "I think I know what you're saying, I … sort of… thought… I hoped…"

"How much can I trust you with, Sharon?"

"You don't have to tell me, your heart is taken, I understand… you don't want to tell me who she is, and I understand that too."

He wasn't expecting that. And he wasn't good at lying.

"Um, no, that's not it. It would be wrong, not fair to you, it would… be a lie, it might hurt you… you would find out… in the end it would have nowhere to go, you'd be hurt so bad, I can't do that to you."

"Oh my God, I… I see, you're engaged?"

"No, you don't understand. There's no other girl. I, I, I like boys. I'm attracted to boys. I can't help it, it's not something I want, I just don't have any natural attraction to girls."

"Oh! But you were aroused."

"Well yeah, I am, I guess it's because I'm a teenage boy, I get excited by practically anything."

"So you could actually… do it… in a way, I guess, right? I can see right now you're aroused… what if I said to you, it's okay, since I know and I understand, that makes a difference, doesn't it? And to be honest with you, I can't think of anyone else in this world I would rather lose my virginity to than you. It would just be a one time thing for both of us to remember. You don't have to marry me, sweet boy, I just want to make love. Just this once. I mean, maybe more, we can wait and see. But I won't take it too seriously. I won't let my feelings get hurt. Because you've been honest with me. And no one will ever know except us, right? So…"

There was a quick silence, something in her eyes, and she quickly added, "You won't… you know, I mean, I wouldn't do this with just anyone, I mean that's wrong too, it's for me but I'm not, you know, I'm not that kind of…"

He interrupted her. "It's okay, Sharon, I don't think that way, and I would never say anything. This, all this, it's private stuff both ways, it's just for us to remember. Not for anyone else. I'll never talk about it with anyone and neither will you. It will just be for us. I know how to keep my mouth shut and so do you. It's completely private, between us."

"That's right. Between us. The way I feel right now. Feel for you."

Minutes later, they're in his bedroom, naked, in the bed where he's slept since he was five years old. In the quiet of a late autumn afternoon, the sun shining outside and the few remaining red, yellow, orange leaves gliding one by one to the ground through the cool, still air. A thought crossed his mind: wait until Kenny hears. No, I can't tell anybody. This is strictly me and Sharon. Kenny's gone, it's over, I'm with Sharon, I have to take good care of her, think of her.

He was hard, horny, and aching to have sexual intercourse with Sharon Miller.

"I'm sorry about my breasts, I know they're not big."

"First of all, your breasts are beautiful. They're perfect. I like them as they are. I like you as you are, otherwise we wouldn't be here. Second, this is the first time I've ever seen a girl's breasts, ever. Except for photos in Playboy and I really thought those huge breasts they show are utterly gross. Third, I like you, Sharon. Wow, talk about getting your firsts, seconds and thirds all mixed up together. Sorry about that, I'm being silly. But seriously, that's why we're here together like this. Your body is beautiful, your mind is lovely, you're young and sweet and charming, I like the way you smell, but mostly it's just you. I like you, I always have. So don't worry about how big this is or how small that is. As you can see, that (he glanced down with a grin) is not very big either! I'm talking too much, right? I do this when I'm nervous. Sorry. I'll try to shut up."

She starts giggling and can't stop, which starts him laughing, it goes on for maybe 30 seconds, the two of them giggling. "Danny, it looks big enough to me! Too big maybe, it makes me nervous looking at it. How are you going to get that big thing down there inside me?"

"Slowly and carefully, one sixteenth of an inch at a time. What I won't do is hurt you, not in any way. But Sharon, if you change your mind, please say so, there's more than one way to make each other happy."

Then he has his hands and lips and tongue all over her, kissing soft, sweet, gentle kisses. And tasting, licking, sucking, even a tiny playful nip-kiss or two with his teeth. Lips, neck, breasts. He sucks her nipples, she's squirming and gasping, she grasps his head in her hands as he sucks, his hands wander everywhere and he's thinking how warm she is and smooth and sweet, but different, the odd scent she has, nothing like a boy. Wow, it's a bit like…

And she's all over him with her hands, can't keep those hands off any part of him, like he's some swell new toy she just found, but he's not that and she knows it, this is a living, breathing, hot, hard young man in the prime of life who wants her and she knows it and yearns for it.

He's never been taught about female anatomy down there except that one class at the end of grade 12, but Mike told him a little, and now he remembers, a little button to find and play with, he has no trouble finding it, it seems instinctive.

He wants a closeup look so he shifts around on the bed and kneels over her, his knees on either side of her breasts leaving his own crotch directly over her head for her entertainment. Being near sighted, he could see details extremely close with razor sharp definition, which has its advantages when exploring the crotch of a lovely young woman for the first time. Something inborn guides his head slowly toward her belly, his nose gently sniffs her scent, her hand is gently holding his balls, the searching middle finger of his right hand guided by instinct sorts its way through assorted pubes and warm wet labia, inserting itself to the first knuckle, the inside of her he finds astonishingly warm and slippery wet, and from that direction the odour, nothing like a boy's, distinctly different.

He'd heard locker room talk that many guys are repelled by it, but in his curious mind it was worth exploring, could become an acquired taste, Henry Miller liked it… well, at first Danny was a little turned off, it resembled something fishy, but not enough to stop his nosiness and especially his need to do right by her. So he imagined himself as Henry Miller, like in Tropic of Cancer, and dove right in.

Her hands are all over his crotch now, and he's panting and gasping as his hearts pounds. Geez, he thinks, it's been a year, no wonder I'm ready to pop so fast. He wants to give her as much pleasure as he can, get down and dirty and grungy like, stick his head in and taste, smell, lick for all it's worth, and maybe she'll do likewise for him. He touches the little button, what did Mike call it? Oh yeah, rhymes with Doris, I think he said the taurus, so he's massaging her taurus for a couple minutes and BOOM… suddenly, she explodes as he massages it, the reaction shocks him, he wasn't expecting it but he keeps rubbing it hard, she's grabbed him around his hips and squeezing the life out of his buttocks while she's breathing hard and gyrating her hips and screeching, he thrusts his face deep into her crotch aligning his tongue, thinking wow she was hot to trot before we even got into bed, really was ready for this, and his tongue hits the mark and he's grinding it salivating feels himself leaking, now she has one hand around his shaft and her legs squeeze his head tight trapping it while his tongue wriggles and jabs and gyrates with her feeling her juices on his nose and lips and within 30 seconds she's again coming viciously wow twice almost without a break one horny girl she's thrusting her hips against his mouth while he circles his tongue on the spot over and over as if his life… oh my God! he thinks, as he goes over the edge and ahhh fires his ahhh semen in ahhh every direction, ahhh, semen everywhere gasping for air I never dreamed it would be like this, it goes on and on until they both finally… slowly… begin… to relax, ahhh with a final breath, a sweet breath of air they each relax and lie back, whew! wow! that was absolutely wild, he reaches down for her but, no more, no more she murmurs, and then tugs him back up to her breasts and face and spreads her legs around his slender hips, enfolds him in her warmth, presses her lips against his then tongues her juices off his face, and reaching down, she finds his half hardness still there.

They lie together in the silence of the house for the next while.

She says, "Danny, that was fantastic, like out of control."

"Me too, Sharon, it was… um, unexpected and crazy and… I honestly didn't think I could do this. I better clean up some of the mess." He reaches for a few tissues, gives her some, uses them to find and absorb the splotches of sticky wetness on their bellies.

They rest a few more minutes. Then she guides his hand to the entrance to her pussy and whispers to him, "Okay, Danny, your turn. Please put it inside me, I want to feel you in me."

The words were magic to his ears. But, badly as he wanted it, he wouldn't do that yet.

"Sharon, I have feelings for you but they're not enough to want to make a baby with you. I have some condoms here somewhere, I bought them a long time ago. Let me find them, give me a sec, this will make you laugh, I have to hide stuff like this from my mother, she's crazy and would go nuts if she ever found them."

Then he thought of something else. Sharon said she's a virgin. "Sharon, if we have sex and it's the first time for you, won't you bleed? Somewhere I heard girls bleed the first time."

"Yes I guess I will."

"Okay, I'm also going to find an old towel to put on the bed under us. The last thing I need is for my mother to find blood in my bed."

"You and your mother!" she giggled, "Wow, she must really be something. She seemed okay to me, so polite and easy to talk to. I liked her."

"Yeah, I know, but she's not so easy to live with, and that's putting it… um, I think I'll shut up and look for the condoms."

Danny stepped out of the bed. Sharon had only seen his naked body up close until this moment, so the sight of the naked young man from a few feet away had her gaping in awe. She'd never seen any naked boy in the flesh until now. He crossed the room, rooted around under mounds of clothes in a dresser drawer with his back to her, broad shoulders, narrow waist and all the rest of his athletic frame, a young man at 18 near his physical peak, a memory which would stay in her mind, clear as day, well into old age.

He found a large old beach towel at the bottom of a pile of old stuff in the linen closet. From Cape Cod. Mother won't miss it, he thought, and if she does, too bad.

He extracted the condoms from deep in his closet, removed the wrapper from one, put the wrapper in his pants pocket so it wouldn't be lying around for the wrong person to find later.

He folded the towel in half and placed it squarely under Sharon's middle.

He climbed back into bed, lay next to her, embraced her with his arms as she encircled, enfolded, enveloped him.

Their mutual heat had cooled slightly so he began once more the process of arousing her. It didn't take long. She remained literally hot with life, which is to say, still on fire. On fire for me, alive for me, she really wants me, he thought. They spent the next while making pre-sex love, foreplay, arousing each other. Lying on the bed side-by-side, caressing whatever they could reach. Her hands were all over his ass and poking between his butt cheeks where she found his anal opening and lightly massaged it, driving him to scream "you're driving me crazy!" (What other the reaction could there be? How did she even know to do that? She would later tell him, I don't know, I just somehow thought you would like it.)

He carefully unrolled the condom onto himself. Gently slowly slipped into her. It needed no lube, she was soaking more slippery than an eel down there. He felt resistance a short way inside, tried his best to keep her aroused and distracted, whispering, "I'm going further in now so get ready," then with a short hard thrust he broke her, paused and asked if she was okay. Her arms embracing him, hands still pressing his butt, she whispered that it hurt a bit but she wanted him, so he tried to resist the impulse to plunge all the way, instead was able to slip little by little bit by bit for the next minutes through the incredibly tight blazing hot wet silky smooth pussy deeper inside until he was finally fully in, pubes to pubes, deep in her blazing heat. It resembled well lubed anal sex with Kenny but felt quite different too. That heat inside her felt irresistible, overwhelming. He lay motionless in her arms, his lips, tongue, his very heart were hers. Nothing could feel more intensely sexual as he slowly began stroking, nudging bit by bit back out, then slowly slowly in, breathe, slowly slowly out, breathe. Relax, no rush, take your time. He stopped inside her to cool down, remaining that way he resumed fingering her, it took a few minutes of stimulation, she got her spark back, used her hands to tug on his butt, she really seemed to like it, ran the pinky side of her hand sideways directly through the cleft, lightly grazing his anus once more, igniting him, he wouldn't hold back any longer, he was aflame and resumed stroking but now hard and fast, harder and faster fucking her bumping and ramming and banging his pubic bone against her over and over, till she blew rapidly like a volcano screeching and screaming and squeezing him hard as she came which caused him to blow inside her, bang bang bang bang, rhythmically ramming in and out soaring skyward ahh ahhh ahhh ahhh they cried out as they hit their highs, it seemed endless and both wished it could go on and on, but eventually the stroking wound down and they again lay still in each other's arms, breathing hard, a touch of sweat, he still inside her. They stared at each other as he lay over her. After a moment he remembered he was using a condom which he wanted to remove so he slowly withdrew, turned over and lay on his back, reached down and found… blood, first, this from Sharon's broken hymen. And semen mixed with more blood, second.

Where was the condom? Oh!

He sat up, felt, then looked. The condom had split along its length and tore at the end. The open end clung to his swollen dick but the rest, that once safely enclosed the length of his cock, now raggedly trailed along, torn, and scrunched up. Blood on the towel, he'd have to wash it off or throw it away.

"Sharon, it broke. The condom broke."

"Oh my God," she said quietly. Then she added, "but you know what? My period just ended two days ago. My periods are always about 28 or 29 days, regular as clockwork, so I doubt I'm fertile yet. We learned about it in health class last year and at church as well. I'm probably fertile around the tenth day after my period begins, and I know my last period began six days ago and ended yesterday so I'm pretty sure I'm safe, not fertile for another three days. At least, that's what they taught us. It's different for every girl, no guarantees, they said that too. It's the least reliable type of birth control. But also the only kind of birth control the Catholic church allows me. Of course, the church also doesn't allow me to be having sex with you right now. I really don't care about their silly rules. I haven't been to confession in so long…"

He listened to this scientific assessment and suddenly realized something. Sharon was a lot smarter than she seemed. What was going on with her?

"Oh. Okay, thanks, I think I feel a little better about it. Still, please, if you can remember, let me know when the time comes?"

"Sure."

"Sharon, do you want to go out with me? Like, on a date?"

"That's how things are supposed to work, we go on dates and get to know each other first, right? I don't think we need to do that, Danny, we got to know each other faster than usual. Besides, we've known each for years. You skipped all the, you know… "

"Bullshit?"

She giggled. "Courtship, it's called courtship, silly. You're so innocent and yet cynical. I'd bet that when we were nine years old you never dreamed that, what, nine years later or something, you'd be in bed with me."

"You're right, it was a lifetime ago, I don't think the idea of having sex had entered my head back in grade 4."

He lay next to her, gazing up at the bedroom ceiling he knew every square inch of, in a state of some wonder at Sharon and her lovely body. His thoughts wandered. Unlucky, first time and it breaks. Something to worry about. I could propose marriage right now, and she might possibly accept, then it wouldn't matter much, but we'd be stuck with each other forever. One question, one answer, could in an instant change drastically the courses of our lives. The one thing we'd be assured of, if everything went more or less as expected and if the marriage worked out, would be stability. But there's Kenny, and the prospect of other boys. No, Kenny's gone. Maybe other guys. Gray. I just don't know.

Lying in bed with this sweet young woman, he knew he wasn't attracted to Sharon. Not the kind of attraction he felt to Kenny. A missing inexplicable wondrous dimension I feel with him. A special layer of magic feeling. Wonderful as this afternoon has been, he thought, I just don't feel that attraction. I don't understand this. How could I enjoy having sex with her so much and have no trouble doing it without feeling that attraction? Maybe there's an attraction I'm not aware of. What's going on here? Maybe I'll ask Mike, he'll know, he knows everything. I'll get another appointment with Dr. Margol.

"Danny, we can't stay here like this. Your mom could come home at any time. We don't want her to find us here like this."

He turned on his side to face her. "There's still time. I just want to say to you, I hope this was okay for you. I never had anything in mind like this when I invited you over. I know for sure now, I have some feelings for you Sharon. I know I can love a woman. I don't really understand any of this. But I want you to know that. I learned more this afternoon than I ever dreamed I would. I can be with a girl. And I have feelings for you. Today, this afternoon, this means a lot to me and no matter what happens in the future, I won't forget it, I'll remember you 'til the end of my life."

"You know you can love a woman."

"Yes. Don't understand how it can work both ways, but it does. And even better, you're the only woman I've ever felt comfortable talking with from my heart. Wish I could talk to my mom from my heart, but I don't trust her."

She lay there looking at him. "You have soft brown eyes that seem to reflect something I don't understand. There's something you're not saying."

He didn't answer. He felt the tears coming. They lay on the pillow together, faces a foot apart, staring into each other's eyes. She reached out, placed her right hand on his hip and drew herself to him. "Tell me. It's just between us. No one else, just you and me. I want to understand how you feel."

He felt himself getting aroused again. This fast? How could it be, he wondered, it's only 10 minutes. She was so soft and warm, round and smooth, like a peaceful cloud where he could hide. There was no one in the universe but the two of them. He felt a couple tears trickle out.

"I was never with a woman, a beautiful wonderful woman, until today. Now I know peace. I knew this feeling with Kenny, too, but that's over. Indefinable happiness. No explanation necessary, it's simply that way. If I were given a chance to freeze the present moment and feel what I feel right now, forever and ever, with no future, no further obligations, needs or desires, no more having to worry about what others think or the world around us, this would be the moment. With you here in my arms, filled with desire, enfolded in your beauty, for all eternity. I need nothing else."

"And?"

"It's not so simple. I'm attracted to boys. A light comes on with boys. There's Kenny. And a couple other guys I can't tell you about except to say they're not like me, so my feelings for them lead nowhere. That's why I'm a long way from being able to commit to anything with anyone. I don't understand any of this. I'm confused. Too many sexual feelings from too many directions."

"Kenny's gone. He moved away."

"I know, but I still love him."

"Are you ever alone?"

"Sure. Everyone is alone at some time, some just don't want to think about it. I've been alone since Kenny left."

"When you're alone, is there anyone you want to be with? Someone you really ache to be with?"

"Well, yes. Kenny. I miss him, and it's a year later now. But I really doubt I will ever see him again. When I'm alone, I almost always think about him. I think he's doing well in Vancouver, and I'm really really jealous. He's made new friends there, top of his graduating class last June, in the hardest science course you can imagine, on a full scholarship yet. I no longer hear from him. He's lost interest in me.

"But, back to what I was saying, try to understand, boys are the default attraction for me. When I see an attractive boy on the street, I look, I'm drawn to him like a magnet. I don't get that with girls. That's the central fact of my life and the reverse of how most guys feel. I'm not just here taking advantage of you. I have feelings for you, but I'll always have my eye on boys. I don't think I could be faithful to you. Maybe years from now, but not now. I'd be lying."

"I feel alone every night and every day. I think most girls do. I always have and I somehow think I always will. Except right now, here, this afternoon, with you, I don't feel alone. I'll always have this."

"You know when all of us will be alone?"

"When? What do you mean?"

"Someone told me this once, I don't remember who. It's when the last time comes, approaching the end of one's time, when someone is dying. Even if they're surrounded by their friends and family. At that moment, each of us will be alone. That last time, that last walk, that last journey, the one into the unknown, into eternity or infinity or whatever you call it, you can only do that alone. I tried to stop that when my dad died. He died in my arms."

Tears were pouring down, he gasped a bit.

"I didn't know that. I feel terrible for you."

"Sorry, what we were saying, it just reminded me of that. Yeah, I get this way. I assure you it's not you, Sharon. It just comes over me, more often than you might think. I think many people can get like this if they give themselves a chance. All kinds of feelings. I guess I've always been a serious sort of person. I mean, I spent I guess my first 14 years feeling out in the cold, alone in the world. I looked around me and felt like I was the only one, the only boy with the wrong attraction. Then Kenny appeared, like sunlight. Now I only feel that way, out in the cold, when I'm without an intimate friend. Having someone I can feel close to and trust, like I do with you right now, that's when I'm happy."

"You know, Danny, what there is between us, you know what it is? I think a big part of it is trust. We've been honest with each other and I think we're simpatico. I don't think either of us could do this if we didn't trust each other. You kind of get what I mean?"

"Definitely. I wouldn't have told you I'm a homo if I couldn't trust you."

"I doubt that that's accurate. I think you're what's called bisexual. That's where you enjoy making love to both women and men. I think if you were a homo, you wouldn't have been able to do what you've done this afternoon. You might even have been repelled. You might have a preference for guys but you definitely seem to have enjoyed our time together today. I did."

They lay together a few more minutes, holding on in the silence, then made love again, slowly, slowly, the most delicate sweetness, he didn't want it to end, but it finally did with an ecstatic roar. This time the condom held. They both felt wrung out, glowing.

Afterward, he sat, cast off the sheet, stepped from the bed. Glanced back. She watched him starting to clean up.

"Danny, I love your naked body. You're so beautiful."

"You are too, inside and outside, all of you."

"I'm dying to ask you this so I'm just going to ask. How about we date occasionally? No obligations, and we can't take it too seriously but it will give each of us a conventional social life."

"Sure, Sharon, but I don't want you to get hurt. As long as it's fun and you like it. If you feel it's getting too serious, you have to call it off, because I don't think I can let my life go in that direction. It would be a big mistake that we'd both come to regret. Uh, do you want to go to the prom with me in June?"

"Well that's a surprise. It's six months from now. Wow, I'm the first girl to have a date for the prom! Oh yes. I'd love to. And we can go out together before that too. Even with other couples. I'd love to go out for dinner with Mike and Sally some time. She's a pretty good friend of mine and I know you and Mike are friends."

She followed him out of the bed, watching him still. She went to the toilet to clean herself, looking a touch sad. He felt regret. Nothing he could do. Every moment passes. He knew he would keep her company until they finished high school. He had feelings for her, it was the least he could do. After that, the years to come yawned empty, uncertain, waiting.

He quickly found a paper bag, stuffed in the blooded towel and remains of the torn condom, and jammed the mess into his schoolbag next to his books, well hidden. To be disposed of Monday en route to school. If not sooner. The sheets looked clean, nothing left to give him away.

Later, after she left, he wondered about his feelings. She lacked the special allure boys had; a female beauty of her own instead. I like her, can relax with her. She seems to have genuine goodness. And in bed where she's naked and vulnerable, there's something more, didn't feel strong attraction until she first kissed me, a girlsweet kiss, different, awakened something new, never dreamed any girl could find me attractive, no woman ever until now, except Lois…

And that smell, loved it once I got used to it, head jammed between her legs spread wide, tongue on that button and inside her and even in the back door, like with Kenny, to drive her crazy wild, she's all sighs and shrieks and licked me frantically and coached me what to do next, so fucking hard I nearly shot off in her face too quick that second time but managed to control, I can feel like this with a woman if feelings for her are there.

This was new.

He found inside her all the beauty he felt he would ever want in a woman. All of that was new to him. Being inside her, and having his face buried down there with all the novel scent and taste, it was stunning. He felt less like an oddball. He didn't fit the conventional picture of young men that the "normal" world expected, but he could slip into it for a time. He proved that to himself.

Hmm. He still preferred boys. Loved the sight of beautiful boy buns. There was absolutely not an attosecond of thought about it. It just was. Being with a beautiful naked girl is like being with a great work of art, like how he felt with the Bernini sculptures he saw at the Villa Borghese in Rome on the way home three years ago, he thought, I can see her beauty even if it is different, I just don't feel it the same way. Being with certain good looking boys, I see them, smell them, yearn for them. I'll always need the intimate company of such men. I still feel shame about that. Nothing I can do. Maybe in time things might change. Yeah, right! I assure you, Danny Stavros, there ain't no chance of that. Back and forth I go. I guess I need time to finish growing up before I decide. Will I ever grow up?

Dec. 17/67 - Dear Kenny,

Hi. I miss you.

Mike is my only close friend in Toronto now. Well, maybe not "only", I really like Gray, but he's hard to get close to. If anyone is misanthropic, it's Gray.

Mike knows about me now. I told him. He's such a great friend, we trust each other, he's fine with me.

And of course, you're my friend. My best friend, and more.

It's a year ago today you told me you were leaving. I miss you so much. I'm really sorry about what happened with my dad's funeral, I wish you could understand. You don't know what it's like here without you, terribly lonely. I wish you'd let me know what's going on with you.

Although maybe I don't want to know.

I love you. Danny

He found the letter in the mail at home two days before the Christmas break began.

Dec. 15/67. Dear Danny, just a short note to say hi. I'm doing pretty well at university, the stuff we're learning is tough going but I'm managing it okay. It takes up most of my time. I mean that literally. I have no time for any real love life. I wish you, Mary and your mom a really great Christmas and New Year. Remember, Danny, I love you and I always will. Kenny.

He read it and cried. He's ignoring me. I think he's playing with me. Pretending nothing's wrong. He won't forgive me, he's fucking me around. He said he loved me, and now, this? No time for any real love life? What does that mean? A pretend love life? Something's going on. He's found someone.

Jealousy rose up inside him almost like a wave of nausea. I have to get out of here, at least there's no snow on the ground.

He changed into a track suit and went for a long run. When he returned over an hour later, he was exhausted. Eight miles, he estimated, some kind of new record, and it feels like it, too.

In March, 1968, there was a letter from Mr. Kingman. Danny read the letter, then tried to explain the important parts to his mother and Mary:

"The insurance company has a lawyer who sent a letter to Mr. Kingman. It says that the insurer received dad's medical records.

"Dr. Johnson is a psychiatrist who dad met with 1965 and 1966. Mom, did you know anything about that?"

"No I didn't, he never said anything to me."

"They say there are repeated references in the doctor's notes to what is referred to as suicidal ideation. I think that means, talking about it without doing it or trying it. Just kind of imagining it."

Barbara looked very sad. "He never said anything to me about that."

"There's something else. The insurer claims it has proof the brake line of dad's car was tampered with before the accident and that the brakes failed to work as a result. They have a mechanic's report about it. The police report didn't say there was anything wrong with the brakes. Mr. Kingman is going to contact the police mechanic about it."

The lawyer's letter was worrisome.

What is going on? Danny wondered.

We didn't know about any of this.

Why didn't dad tell mom he was seeing a psychiatrist?

Who tampered with the brakes?

I can't believe this. We're going to spend thousands of dollars and lose the lawsuit.

What can we do? This just isn't right.

He called Marvin Kingman the next day. Mr. Kingman told him not to worry, he referred to it as the usual defence nonsense. There's no proof of suicide as far as I can see he said. Talking about it with a psychiatrist is common. Many people have thought about suicide at one time or another but almost none ever attempt it. Thinking about it is not proof of anything.

And the insurance mechanic saw the vehicle a few days after the accident. Anything could have happened in that time. The police saw it on the same day and there was no damage.

So don't worry. I'll keep you informed.

Danny and Sharon were an item for the next few months. They double-dated with Mike and Sally twice, went out for dinner together a few times at cheap cheerful places with good food. But they didn't repeat their sexual liaison. Danny was honest with her, he liked her a lot but just didn't feel sexual about her or any girl. He liked her as a friend. He didn't want to mislead her. She seemed to accept him that way.

Barbara let him have the Plymouth for the prom. She was thinking of getting a second car with some of the money from the first life insurance policy. Danny waxed the Plymouth all shiny and clean. Put on his best suit. Drove to Mike's house and went in, Mike was looking beautiful in a tightly molded black tux. His hair just perfect, Danny thought, so is he in every way. I could fall in love with him if I let myself. But it would be another mistake, like the one with Gray. I can only take one of those guys at a time.

They drove to Sally's place. Before Mike got out of the car to get her, he asked, would it be okay, would Danny mind, if Mike sat with her in the back seat? Danny could play the role of chauffeur, just from there to the school. Just for fun.

"I hope I'm not hurting your feelings, Danny, it would just be fun I think and I'd be forever grateful."

"Mike, you can call me driver for the rest of the evening. Driver Dan."

Mike escorted Sally from her house. She wore a short black dress that clung to her lovely petite figure. Her skin seemed to sparkle in the fading golden sunlight of the late day. She was smiling, had eyes only for Mike. As they drove to Sharon's place, Danny glanced at them in the rear view mirror, arms around each other, kissing breathlessly. He hadn't witnessed this kind of intimacy from them before. Seeing it left him feeling a bit lost, green-eyed envy in a nice sort of way that produced a yearning for someone of his own. He must have snapped a photo with his mind, because the picture of them stayed in his mind, that memory of them locked passionately in the fading light, oblivious to himself and the rest of the world. He loved them both and wished them the best.

They picked up Sharon next, then drove to the prom. It was a pretty good evening, nostalgic. Mike and Sally had a ride to the Beverly Hills Inn after the prom, that's where Danny dropped Lois off that night a couple years ago. Danny took Sharon home, kissed her good night, told her, "I'm going to miss you. We've known each other for so many years and I've seen you almost every day. I guess I won't be seeing much of you now."

High school is gone, he thought as he drove home, everyone happy but me. I'm missing you bad, Kenny, really really bad, I hope you're okay, Kenny, I just need you to forgive me.

I better send him another letter. Has he forgotten about me?

I have a new job I should feel happy about but don't. Two summers at the factory was enough, Uncle Lewis knows someone who got me this summer job with the Ontario government downtown, hope I like it, can't be harder than the factory. I'll be starting next week.

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