Mrs. Marlowe looked up at Angie, couldn't bear to look in her probing eyes, and looked out the window.
'It's hard to explain,' she started again hesitantly. 'Especially to a younger girl. Only married women really need to know.'
Angie's eyes met hers unflinchingly. Her mother looked away quickly again.
'But, girls should be aware — they should watch out for compromising situations. Like, you should never stay alone in a room with any boy-or man. And don't let them touch you. Anywhere. Men are animals. It's their nature. A girl has to protect herself.'
'From what?' Angie asked innocently.
The simple question threw her mother in a tizzy. Her face turned red, her mouth opened involuntarily and hung open, bereft of words. Obviously, her mind was confused and shame filled her body.
'What happens, Mother?' Angie asked stubbornly.
Her mother concentrated on a spot on the floor. 'They touch you. It doesn't feel good. And you'll probably get pregnant right away.' She frowned, searching for words. 'It's better to put all thought of sex out of your mind now.' She straightened up. 'And now you've been warned.'
'Warned against what?' Angie asked, disgusted.
'About getting pregnant.'
'I wasn't wanting to,' Angie said. 'I just wanted to know how it happens.'
Her mother looked at her silently for a long moment. 'You don't have to worry about it until you're married.' She added with a playful smile, 'And that's several years in the future.'
'Where do babies come from?' Angie asked point blank.
'From love,' Mrs. Marlowe said, embarrassed.
'Then where did I come from?'
'What do you mean?' her mother asked, confused.
'You don't love Daddy.'
Mrs. Marlowe turned white with an almost rising anger. She sat in agony for a few moments, trying to control herself. Finally, she said, 'It has nothing to do with you.'
Angie looked directly at her. 'Yet, it has. I might have had a sister or a brother.'
Mrs. Marlowe jumped up. 'Impudent!' she screamed.
'Isn't it true?' Angie persisted.
'You're just as bad as your father — always getting off the subject.' Mrs. Marlowe rushed out of the room.
It's just as well, Angie thought as she lay back on her bed. She can't tell a straight story anyway.
But an idea kept popping into her mind and bothering her. Something must be wrong with me because I enjoy sex. There must be some good reason why Mom is uptight about it. I must be a pervert of some kind. A nymphomaniac!
She got up and turned on the stereo as loud as it would go, subconsciously wishing to drown her thoughts in noise.
She poked through her clothes closet. I must dress up tonight. Brad's coming. I hope Doug won't be mad at me. We'll get rid of Brad some way. Then we can have it out. I can't go on. Shame engulfed her. I must stop. It must be wrong to enjoy sex. Why, I don't know. It seems so natural, once you get the hang of it. I wish I had a mother who could help me. Tears filled her eyes, her vision became blurry. She had difficulty seeing the dresses. The tears silently rolled down both cheeks and dropped on the floor.
When the doorbell rang at 7:30, Angie was waiting. She'd had second thoughts about surprising Doug and bad decided to tell him Brad was coming.
'Oh, Doug…' she said as she opened the door.
Brad stepped in. 'I hope you're not disappointed that it's me,' he said with a confident smirk on his young face.
'I told you to come at eight,' Angie said angrily.
Brad hit his palm against his forehead in simulated distress. 'Did you? You told me two times — seven-thirty and eight. And I kept thinking, 'Not eight, seven-thirty.' I must have turned them around.'
'You're not welcome until eight,' Angie said coldly.
'I have nowhere to go,' Brad said self-pityingly.
'Walk around the block a few times,' Angie said, unmoved.
'You wouldn't throw me out,' Brad protested lightly, with a dangerous tone in his voice.
Angie could see that he had no intention of leaving and she knew she wasn't strong enough to throw him out alone. She decided it would be smarter to play along with him.
'You can look over the records in the rumpus room while I get a bottle of wine,' she said, leading him to the rumpus room.
Brad looked approvingly at the elaborate stereo set built into the wall and the shelves filled with records.
'Make yourself at home,' Angie said, turning to go. 'I'll be right back.'
She hurried up to the kitchen and rushed into the breakfast nook and dialed Doug's phone number.
'Who're you calling?' Brad asked behind her.
Angie jumped in surprise. She turned to see Brad lounging in the doorway, grinning at her in an oppressive way.
'Hello,' Doug's voice said in the phone, 'hello.'
Angie hung up the receiver. 'My mother told me to call her at the dinner party they're at. But no one answers.'
She smiled appealingly at Brad and slipped past him to the kitchen. 'I put a bottle of wine to cool in the refrigerator. Do you like port?'
'I can take it or leave it,' Brad said pompously, following her.
With the wine and three glasses on a tray, she led him back down to the rumpus room. She set the tray on a table.
'Would you like some now or shall we wait until Doug comes?' she asked.
'Why not now?' Brad asked, playing a sophisticated man-of-the-world type.
'You pick out a record while I open the wine,' Angie directed.
Good gosh, he was hard to talk to! And he kept looking at her in that insinuating way. She must reach the front door first to warn Doug. She kept hoping the doorbell would ring soon.
Brad pretended to look for a record. Is she nervous! he thought. Those two must have been up to something. I'm going to be there when old Douggie boy steps in the door. He put a record on and turned the volume down low so he could hear the doorbell.
Angie poured wine into two glasses. 'Turn the volume up, I can't hear it,' she told him innocently.
Brad turned it up a little bit. They smiled at each other sincerely.
Angie handed him his glass of wine. They continued to measure each other with their eyes. Panic began to gain possession of Angie. Doug should get here any minute, she kept thinking. I've got to be upstairs when he comes! She tried to think of an excuse to leave.
'Oh, dear!' she said. 'I forgot the coasters. Mother'll be so mad. Wait here. I'll run up and get them.'
She dashed upstairs. Brad followed at a discreet distance. She went into the kitchen. Brad watched her open a drawer and take some coasters out. Then she stood uncertainly, not wanting to leave. The doorbell rang. Brad watched her dash down the hall and open the door.
In a high voice, Angie said, 'Doug! I've got to tell you…'
Doug, stepped in the door saying, 'Hi, baby!' and grabbed her and kissed her soundly.
Angie struggled to get him to stop but Doug responded by bending her body backward and running his hand up her skirt to the crotch band of her panties. Angie tried to pull his hands away. In vain.
'Well, hello, you love birds,' Brad said in an amused tone.
Doug and Angie pulled apart guiltily.
'Just as I thought,' Brad said happily. 'There's nothing like learning from experience, is there?'
'What's he doing here?' Doug asked Angie angrily.
