“What’s this?” Maurey asked.
“A mole.”
“You sure it’s not cancer.”
“If it turns black and falls off it’s cancer. Right now it’s just a mole.”
“Does it hurt if I touch it?”
“I don’t think so. It feels kind of neat.”
“Touch me there.”
“Can we kiss this time? It seems weird to learn all this stuff about doing it and not learn how to kiss.”
“Have you ever kissed a girl? Move your fingers in a circle now.”
“Of course I’ve kissed girls. Loads.”
“I bet you haven’t. I bet you got screwed before you got kissed.”
“I have too kissed girls.”
“Let’s see if you can kiss. Only no getting syrupy. It’s only practice.”
I went in for what seemed like a Rock Hudson-Doris Day knock-your-socks-off smacker.
Maurey said, “Open your mouth, for Chrissake.”
“Let me try again.”
“Stick out your tongue this time.”
“Right.”
“Not like that. Move it around some. Softer, like a lick, not like you’re mad at somebody. Pretend you’re down there only the crack goes sideways instead of up and down.”
“Where’d you learn so much about kissing?”
“That one was better, only less suction and open your mouth even wider. Try to touch as much of me at once as you can.”
“I bet you’ve kissed Dothan Talbot lots of times.”
“It’s time for you to make me wet now.”
“But I’m enjoying this. Can’t you get wet this way?”
“I’m tingly. I want to see what it feels like with your tongue. Try licking your way down.”
I did Maurey’s neck and the little brown bull’s-eye tits, right first, then left. It was kind of fun, like feeding on a pool table. I played in her belly-button hole awhile until she pushed me down lower. Her breathing was different, faster.
“You’re gonna be good at this someday,” Maurey said.
“I’m good at it now.”
When I finally licked down to the taco shell, I went way to the bottom and deep for a few seconds, then up to the top where Mom had shown us the magic spot. By listening to Maurey’s breathing, I could tell what was what —when to go up or down or around, when to put on more pressure or less. I must have been at it a good while because I went into a neat Hayley Mills fantasy.
It sunk in that Maurey’s breath had jumped a pitch. Her back was arched against me and her fingers dug at my ears.
“Had enough?” I asked.
“Stop now and I’ll kill you.”
Then she went louder and moved into audible peeps. I put on some more pressure and Maurey went nuts. Made painful noises and scratched my one ear. Her spine came way up high, banged her magic spot against my teeth, then she fell back deadlike.
I stopped. “Did I hurt you?”
“Holy moley.”
“Maurey. I think we did something wrong.”
“Holy moley.”
“Can you move?”
“Come here, Sammy.”
I crawled up the bed and she put her arm around me. I lay in the hollow under her collarbone, next to her little tit. It felt nice, like maybe we were really dating now and not just practicing.
“What happened?” I asked.
“My body blew up.”
“That’s peculiar.”
“I wonder if I messed something up, like maybe I can’t have children anymore.”
“Maybe it’s the other way around, maybe we made you pregnant and that was the baby being made.”
Maurey went quiet. I put a hand on her tummy, where I imagined the explosion had created a new kid. “I better go talk to Lydia,” she said.
“She’s asleep, unless all that noise woke her.”
“She can tell me if anything like this ever happened before. Maybe it’s normal.”
“Maybe all women blow up when they fuck.”
“I don’t see how what I just did could be normal.”
“Mom’ll know, she’s experienced.”
Maurey started to slide off the bed. I sat up and grabbed her arm. “But I haven’t put it in yet.”
She friend-kissed my cheek and held my thing, “It’ll keep.”
“I’m ready to get off now.”
“This is important, Sam. Your thing will keep.”
The special that night at the White Deck was navy beans and hamhock with cornbread. I’d never had beans before we came to Wyoming. Lydia considered beans peasant food and worried about gas. The gas worry might have been for real. Personally, I was a kid, I looked forward to farts, except in class. Anyone who farted in class might as well commit suicide right there for all the bile that was heaped on him.
Lydia had a steak. She was trying to lose weight, although she didn’t tell anybody but me, and she’d decided to become a meatatarian. She went over a month on meat, Dr Pepper, and coffee—lost seven pounds, but gained it back again as soon as she returned to normal person’s food.
“Did Hank call?” she asked.
“You know he did. He called four times while you were pretending to be asleep.”
“I never pretend anything.” Lydia inspected her teeth in her knife. She was really paranoid about talking to someone with a chunk of meat hanging out. Dot came by to refill our coffee.
“I hear you’re going to Charlotte Morris’s party,” she said.
Lydia kind of arched an eyebrow at me. She’d never heard of Charlotte Morris.
I looked down at cold beans. “Guess so, I’ve never been to a party out West. What happens?”
“Same things as a party out East. Records and games where you get flirty with girls other than your date. You’ll probably end up in a closet with someone. That always happened to me.”
“Never happened to me,” Lydia said.
“That’s where Jimmy and me kissed the first time, Annabel Watkins’s front-hall closet. She’s Maurey’s mother now. Jimmy kissed me and I like to died. We went steady for seven years, then graduated and got married. You want pie, it’s lemon.”
I smiled and Dot took that as a yes. Lemon pie is good but I scrape off the meringue. I’m not into meringue.
Dot brought my pie while Lydia sipped on her third cup of coffee. No wonder it took a pint of Gilbey’s to put her under at night.
“So you got Maurey off today,” Lydia said.
I shaped the meringue into a little snowman with my spoon. “I guess so. We didn’t know what it was when it
