It was another three weeks before Danielle would talk about David.

They were the three slowest weeks of her life. Each morning she would wake up and wonder what to do with herself. Each night she would fall into bed with the same question. In between she sat and stared. She tried to use the computer, to do her summer reading, to catch up on books she'd meant to finish; she tried to keep herself busy. It never worked. Always she found herself sitting aimlessly, blankly, unable to focus. Once she read the same page for an hour. Her period came, and went; there was blood on her panties, but she didn't think to do anything about it. Nothing happened.

Obviously, her parents had questions about why her best friend had suddenly stopped coming round—not to mention her younger sister Sonya, little brat that she was—but enough times yelling "I don't wanna talk about it!" at them finally put them off the scent. She was just glad that David himself had not shown up at the front door; he certainly could have, it wasn't like he hadn't spent half his life here. But for whatever reasons of his own, he didn't. For a while she dreaded it; then she merely worried that he might try to phone the house; then she wondered whether he might send a letter or an e-mail. But as weeks turned to months and no contact was forthcoming, she began to think that maybe he had taken it seriously—as he should have!—when she said she was done with him.

Her friends were no help; Shelly Baumgarter and the others had made it plain that she should not attempt to contact them over the summer. (They had also made it plain that they would be out of state, possibly out of the country, over the summer, and any attempts she did make at contacting them would necessarily fail, so why not save herself the trouble? Danielle wished her family had that kind of money.) Not that there was much she could say to them anyway. They had all ridiculed her "outdated" attachment to David; they thought she should sow her wild oats while she could. She would get no sympathy from them.

And her other friends...

"Danielle?" The voice sounded amazed. "Danielle Mayer?"

"Do you know any other Danielles, Liz?" Danielle asked.

"Well," said Liz, "no, not particularly. As a matter of fact, I'm not sure I know this 'Danielle Mayer' person you speak of either. I mean, she hasn't talked to me in a couple of months. Which is pretty crappy for someone who claims I'm her best girl friend."

"I am not in the mood, Elizabeth," Danielle snapped, two inches away from hanging up.

"Ooh, a first name ultimatum," said Liz. "Powerful, but not nearly as effective as the full-spectrum triple-name treatment. 'Elizabeth Viola Lewiston!' See? There's a difference."

"You want me to use it?" Danielle growled.

"No, not particularly. What can I do for you, Nellie? We haven't spoken since school ended, it must be something important."

"I... I..." said Danielle. "Can you just come over?"

"Well, I was going to meet Heidi and Vanessa for a movie. Can it wait?"

"Umm," said Danielle. She wasn't sure she wanted to say anything out loud—as though, somehow, keeping it quiet would make it all go away. But despite it the words came tumbling out: "I'm not with David anymore."

There was a crackling silence from the other end of the phone. Then Liz said, "I'll be right over."

And she was. Within the next fifteen minutes after that, Heidi and Vanessa arrived too; Carmen was at summer school and would only be available after five, but Liz assured her that she had been texted and was fully aware of the situation. Danielle, now the center of the maelstrom, was almost too stunned to function. While she had known Liz longer than she had David, their friendship had long become part of the background noise of her life; for years now she had not nearly been as conscious of Liz as she was of David. Would she have dropped everything if some disaster had happened in Liz's life? She wasn't sure. Suddenly she was absurdly grateful she'd never had to find out.

"So," said Liz. "When did this happen? What's going on?"

"Umm... Three weeks ago," said Danielle.

"And you didn't say anything?!" Liz exclaimed.

"Well..." said Danielle. She hadn't wanted to say anything; it was as if she could keep it from being true by not admitting it out loud. These were decisions she had made in the half-light of the night, far into the blue hours of the morning when her eyes swam with fatigue. Now, with the sun out, they seemed stupid. But she had kept to them all the same.

"Well, if I had a boyfriend break up with me, I wouldn't want to tell anyone," Heidi announced. "God, I'd be so embarrassed!"

Liz passed an eyeroll to Danielle before saying, "We know now, at least. And we can do something about it." What surprised Danielle was not the ostentatious little smirk; what surprised her was that she remembered to look at Liz's face to catch it. She and Liz had been close as sisters, once; maybe some things didn't end.

But that thought brought David to mind, and then things were cold in her heart again.

Though Heidi and Vanessa pestered her about it, she couldn't bring herself to admit what had happened. Not to them. She could just imagine Vanessa pecking at her for details, or Heidi making faces and being grossed out. Liz seemed to see; after the other two had bugged her for a while, Liz swept in and managed to start a spirited argument about what movie they were going to see. They? "Well, you don't think we're leaving you alone here, are you?" Liz said. But Danielle didn't think she'd mind that. She wasn't sure she wanted to be out in public right now. What she really wanted was for all these well-meaning but stupid people to go away, so that she could tell Liz what had happened—so that she could actually talk about it; now that the subject had been broached, she realized she wanted nothing else but to talk about it, and to wonder how, if she had loved him and he her, this could have happened. But it wasn't to be. So she went to the movie with them, and it wasn't until after dinner that night that Liz could extricate herself and come talk.

And even then, it wasn't alone. For reasons surpassing her understanding, Liz's boyfriend Martin came too. She had seen him around school, of course, but never paid much attention to him; he was one of the quiet ones. She'd never understood, for that matter, what it was that Liz saw in him. But she'd rarely had time to ponder, nor any reason to either; there had always been David to wonder about.

Her skepticism must have shown on her face, because Liz said, "Look, he's not coming in with us. I'm gonna leave him here in the den and then you and I can go talk in your room."

"Why'd you bring him at all?" Danielle demanded.

"Because I thought he might have something useful to say," Liz said. "Look, Nellie. He—"

"Don't call me that," she said. "It makes me feel like a kid."

"Umm. Well. What would you rather be called?" said Liz.

"Anything else. Danielle. Dani. Dee. Anything else."

Martin spoke up for the first time. "Antonio?"

Danielle gave him a glare.

"Well," said Liz, "you did say 'anything else.' "

So that was what they saw in each other: the same juvenile sense of humor. "Yes," she said, letting sarcasm drip from every word, "Antonio would be fine."

"Oh, good," said Martin. He stuck out his hand. "Hi, Antonio, I'm Martin. Pleased to meet you."

"And, now that you two have introduced yourselves," said Liz, "it's time for the girl-talk to happen. Martin, you stay here. No. Noooo. Stay. Stay. Yes. Good boy. Good boy." She blew air kisses while Martin sat on the couch at attention, grinning with his tongue out in a caricature of canine obedience.

With effort, Danielle controlled an urge to vomit. Public displays of affection were one thing, but that... And yet mixed in with the irritation was a small kernel of sorrow. Why hadn't she and David ever felt the need to be demonstrative? Why hadn't they ever generated their own in-jokes?

Liz shut the door behind them and turned to face her. "Okay, so. Where would you like to begin?"

Danielle didn't know where to begin. What had happened? Her best friend, her lover, her husband to be, her good right arm—all of it was gone. She couldn't begin to explain. She didn't actually know what to say.

"Danielle Sabrina Mayer, you dragged me up here to tell me the whole story," said Liz, folding her arms across her chest. "Now I'm here, and I want to hear it, damn it. So talk. What's going on."

"I... I don't know where to start," Danielle said.

"Start at the beginning," Liz said. "Good place to start, generally."

"From the beginning?" Danielle protested. "That's, like, when we were six!"

Liz blinked for a moment. Then she said, "Ho-ooo boy, I'm in for a long night, aren't I."

"Well, I... I guess you don't have to go back that far..." said Danielle. "But... I mean, it's all tangled, you know? I don't know where one thing starts and the other ends."

"Well, fine," said Liz, crossing over to the bed and sitting down. "What's the last thing that happened between you two?"

"Well, we had a fight—"

"Before you had the fight," said Liz, giving her a dirty look. When had she gotten so impatient, anyhow? Perhaps after five or ten years of very loose friendship, someone might change.

"Before we had the fight? We, uhh..." Danielle steeled herself with a deep breath. "We had sex."

Liz blinked at her. "Okay. And?"

Whatever response Danielle had expected from her, this was not it. "Wha, well, aren't you— I mean... That's it? You're not surprised?"

Liz gave her an exasperated smile. "Nellie, I've seen you two together. You two've been in love from the instant you met. You two were in love before you even knew what love meant. Of course you were gonna give it up to each other. When did you start?"

"Uhh, well... The time before we had the fight," Danielle said.

"...Oh," said Liz. "That's... Well, that's an inopportune time to have a fight. Umm. I was going to ask what the fight was about, but maybe it doesn't matter. I mean, anything going wrong then could make a difference."

"What?" said Danielle. "Why?"

"Well, you're... Danielle, think about it for just a minute. You've just had sex for the first time. So has he. Furthermore, you've both just had sex with each other, which is a special occasion even when you aren't both virgins. Both of you have just shared a very special, very intimate part of your bodies and your souls with another person, for the first time ever. Not to mention sharing it with each other for the first time ever. There were a lot of firsts going on, Danielle, of course you're both bound to be... Stirred up."

"How do you know all this stuff anyhow," Danielle asked, "how've you..."

Liz just met her gaze.

"Oh, no. No," said Danielle. "No way. With... With who??"

"With Martin, who else?" Liz said.

"With... With Martin?" Danielle exclaimed, hearing her voice scale an octave. "I mean... You... I didn't..."

"I guess this was the sort of reaction you were expecting from me," Liz said in a dry voice.

"But... But you're... I mean, how old are you?" Danielle said.

"Umm... Sixteen?" said Liz. "Same as you are? Our birthdays are within a week of each other, remember?"

"Yeah, but..." said Danielle, helpless. "I didn't... Remember when I told you I'd kissed David, and you said I was really gross and you wouldn't talk to me all day? Liz, the girl I remember would never..."

Elizabeth stood up. "Nellie," she said gently, "the me you remember is nine."

Danielle shut her mouth. God, was everyone growing up these days?

"So," said Liz, and this time she drew Danielle down to sit on the bed with her. "Tell me, Danielle. What exactly happened out there that would make you break up with him? Not ten minutes after giving him your innocence, and—if I know you, and I might—swearing eternal love to him, and having it sworn in return."

Danielle felt a moment of fright: that was exactly what had happened. How could Liz know her so much better than she knew Liz? Did she know anyone that well? ...Besides David?

With much coaxing and prodding on Liz's part, Danielle managed to trot out the whole sordid story. When it was done she felt drained. "I just... I just don't understand. How could I have misunderstood him so badly? I thought..." Now in almost a whisper. "I thought he loved me."

"Didn't he?" said Liz.

"No," Danielle retorted. "If he loved me, why would he be so boring?"

"What do you mean, 'boring'?"

"He just... He never does anything that surprises me anymore," Danielle said. "He hadn't for a long time. Whenever we went out to eat, or to see a movie, or were doing homework, or, or even when we were fooling around, I could... Like, I could predict everything. And I would always be right."

"Well, you did date for, what, eight years?" Liz said. "You get to know a person during that time. Maybe you just knew him really well."

"I thought I did. I..." A sigh. "I thought he loved me. But he just wanted to get his rocks off. I mean, god, listen to what what he said!"

"What he said was insensitive," said Liz. "That doesn't mean he doesn't love you, or that he was manipulating you. People have been saying thoughtless things ever since they had mouths."

"Still," Danielle maintained. "I don't wanna be with someone who thinks those things. I don't wanna be with someone who even says those things. Being the same old boring guy for years, and then saying I owe him?? Complaining about waiting for four years?" The thought still made her indignant.

"Yes, about that," said Liz, standing up. "If you'll excuse me."

"What?" said Danielle.

"I'm going to get Martin."

"You're going to— What?"

"Hon, do you understand why he said that?" Liz asked her. "Do you understand what happened?"

"Why who said it? David? ...No. Not really."

"Would you like a guy's opinion on the matter?" said Liz.

"Well, yeah, I guess that would be nice, but we don't have a— Oh," said Danielle.

"The light is shed," said Liz with a crooked smile. "We'll be right back."

While they were gone, Danielle's mind wandered. She didn't know what to think or where to look anymore. All the world seemed different to her now, as though she was seeing it through new eyes. Or maybe it was just her. Everything seemed washed out to her, bleak, devoid of color—like looking at a black-and-white photo. Nothing she looked at seemed interesting anymore. Was this normal? Did she need to see an eye doctor?

Liz preceded her boyfriend through the door. "Hey, Antonio," said Martin, holding out his hand again, "I understand you're in need of a male opinion."

This time she shook it; it seemed rude not to. "I take it you're our guy."

"Well, I sure hope so," said Liz. "If he were our girl, it wouldn't help us much. Sit down, Martin, and tell us what you think."

"About what?" said Martin, taking a seat against the wall. Evidently he didn't mind being below eye level. Danielle wondered what that meant.

"How long do you think a couple should go out before they have sex?"

"What, if it were up to me?" said Martin.

"No, silly. Compromise," said Liz, with another ostentatious eye-roll. "We're not all—"

"No, hold on," said Danielle. "I want to know. What would you say?"

Martin blinked at her. "Jeez, I thought you and David were, like, totally in love or something."

She didn't like to think about that. "So what if we were?"

"So, wouldn't you have heard about it? When did he start wanting to have sex?"

"Well, I, uh... God, I dunno."

Martin blinked. "How can you not know?"

"I mean, it was gradual," said Danielle. "At first we were like, 'Wow, that's really weird.' Sex, I mean. But slowly we started to think that maybe it was something to try even though it was weird."

"Why don't you just answer the question, then, Mar," said Liz. "When you're going out with a girl, do you want to have sex with them immediately?"

"Well, duh," said Martin. "And I see what you mean about not knowing. I guess you two didn't really 'start' dating."

"Yeah, it... It just was, kinda." Danielle grimaced. "I feel like we've always been dating." And weren't anymore. She wondered if she should feel worse about that than she did.

"But anyway," said Liz. "So, Mar, if you were dating some new girl, would you want to do it on the first date?"

"Well, maybe not the first date," said Martin. "But pretty soon. I mean, what's the statistic they told us in Health class? The average relationship for people our age lasts six weeks. If you're with a girl who expects to wait two months, then you ain't never gonna get any."

"And, of course, you want to get any."

"Well, duh," said Martin again, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"But... I mean, you're extra-horny," said Danielle. "Right?" Liz and Martin looked at her with identical expressions of confusion. "I mean... You're not..." she said. "...Does everyone feel that way? All guys?"

"Pretty much," said Martin. "I mean, every now and then you have someone who wants to wait until marriage, but that doesn't mean they don't want to have sex, it just means they intend to resist the temptation. Maybe they'll even succeed. But maybe they won't. Every guy wants to."

"Immediately?" said Danielle, appalled. "Like, right off the bat? With a girl they barely even know?"

"Well, not quite that bad," said Martin. "Some guys are smart enough to give it a little time. ...But some aren't. Some just wanna get their rocks off. And every guy definitely wants to have sex eventually, and with the girl he's with. Maybe not right this second, maybe not the very first date, but eventually. And sooner rather than later."

"What if... What if you made him wait..." said Danielle. "Four years?"

Martin was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Damn, girl. He must have really loved you."

She didn't like hearing that. "Or, maybe he was desperate. Maybe he was hanging on 'cuz he didn't think he could get any from anyone else."

Martin shrugged. "It could be that too. I think most guys our age would have broken up with you if you'd told him you were gonna wait that long."

"It wasn't like that," Danielle said, "it wasn't like I had a, I dunno, a timeline or anything. He knew. I told him we'd do it when I felt ready, and I told him I'd feel ready pretty soon."

"Four years is 'pretty soon'?" Martin asked.

"It's not a small decision," Danielle said.

"It would be to a guy," said Martin.

"W... How?" said Danielle, her thoughts on her nephew Austin. "I mean, if he's not careful, he could get..."

"A girl pregnant," Martin finished. "But he wouldn't get pregnant himself."

"But if he did, the right thing to do would be to stick around and help that poor girl out," Danielle protested. "I mean, I don't think we're still in the days where a man has to marry a woman he slept with, but..."

"Yeah, that'd be the right thing," Martin said. "And how many of our classmates can you think of who would do the right thing?"

David would. To steer away from that uncomfortable thought, she said, "And all guys want it?"

"What," said Martin, "don't you?"

Danielle shrugged. "I..." She didn't mind it, that was for certain; David had learned, from long experience, how to make her feel good, and when they finally did it, well, that was good too. But... "I dunno. I mean, it's nice, but it wouldn't bother me to not have it for a while."

"See, that's another difference," said Martin. "Guys really want it."

"Seriously," said Liz. "He'd do me every day if he could."

"And that's even though you guys do do it?" Danielle said. She would assume that getting some regularly would blunt his appetite.

"That's with us doing it," Liz agreed. And then, as though reading into Danielle's thoughts: "And it was worse when we weren't."

"That still doesn't explain why he said I owed him sex," Danielle said.

"No, it does," said Martin. "Look, Danielle. I assume you guys didn't just go straight to, you know, whatever. Doing it. I assume you worked up to it. Over the course of the, you know, four years."

Danielle nodded. Actually, they had been playing with each other for much longer than that. But puberty brought a turning point; sex started to be something David actively sought, not just a casual fun shared with his angel, and their explorations had taken on a completely new edge. His Internet research had added new things to their repertoire: oral sex (she was more willing to do it than he was, especially since he wasn't spurting yet), and nipple play, and having him thrust between her thighs; and, eventually, in only the week before they finally did it, she had dared to rub the outside of her pussy against the length of his shaft, kissing it with her moisture while he groaned underneath her. (The strength of the resulting orgasms, hers and his, had been part of what convinced her to finally go through with it.) It had been a long, slow, four-year build up, but yes, it had happened.

"Well, throughout all those four years," Martin said, "he's been wanting it. Not just the things you did in the meantime—blowjobs or whatever—but the whole shebang. Actual, you know, intercourse. Four years, Danielle. That's a pretty long time to 16-year-olds.

"And so here he is, wanting it for four years," Martin said. "While his friends and classmates egg him on—it doesn't help that he's one of the oldest people in the year, so they expect him to be further along the curve, especially when he's got, in their opinion, a steady source of pussy close to hand. And remember, Danielle, he probably doesn't have the hang-ups about sex you do."

"I don't have hang-ups!" Danielle protested.

"Okay, sorry," said Martin, "wrong word. What I was trying to say is that he's a lot less hesitant to go in and do it. Virginity's not as special to a guy, you know. A woman who's not a virgin is kind of stigmatized, right? Well, the same thing happens to a guy who is a virgin."

"Which of course raises the bizarre conflict of interest wherein the boyfriend and girlfriend must choose which one of them is going to be the one seen as a loser," Liz remarked, "but that's another matter."

Danielle hadn't even thought about that. "I'm going to be seen as a loser?"

"Only if you let it get around," said Liz. "Can David keep a secret?"

Danielle didn't answer. She knew he could; would he?

"So, my point is, he's been wanting it for four years," Martin said, "and he probably feels like you've been holding him back. So when you finally do it, he's not thinking, 'Oh, thank goodness, I'm finally getting some'. He's thinking, 'Jesus, what took her so long?' "

"Which is why he said I owe him," Danielle said, making the connection. "Because to him, there was no valid reason to have not done it. It was just me being unreasonable."

"Basically," said Martin.

That just made her feel worse. They'd had long, in-depth discussions about why they were doing what they were (or weren't doing, in this particular case) and she'd thought she'd made her stance clear. If Martin was right—and she didn't see any reason why he wouldn't be—then David had not understood at all.

"That still doesn't mean she owes him, though," said Liz. "I mean, when you get down to it, sex is something you decide to do. It's not like she has to decide to."

"No, she doesn't," Martin said. "Danielle, you're right to be annoyed at him for saying that, because you don't owe him. But keep in mind that he's talking out of years of sexual frustration here. He probably didn't mean to say anything at all. But the simple fact is that you withheld something he's wanted for a long time. No matter how good your reasons for doing so, or how patient he tries to be, he's bound to have gotten at least a little annoyed."

"And what about that other stuff about... about wanting Shelly Baumgarter?" Danielle said. She wished she hadn't sounded quite as desperate as she had.

Martin shrugged. "That, I can't tell you. Does he have a crush on her?"

Before Danielle could answer, Liz interjected: "Yeah right. I mean, I don't know if you know this, Danielle, but Shelly has... a reputation. Around campus." Danielle knew, or at least had heard about it; but she'd never bothered to verify. What Shelly Baumgarter did with her boyfriends had always seemed much less important than what she got to do with David. "Even if David was in a relationship with you, she probably would've done it with him if he'd asked. And I'm pretty sure David knew that."

"And, could have ripped a piece off of that any time he wanted, with you none the wiser," Martin added.

"Well, maybe not that," Liz said. "I'm also pretty sure that, if he had, it would've gotten around—and of course I would've told you, Dani. So we'd know. But he would've gotten away with it, at least, if all he wanted was to get his rocks off."

"And David isn't like that," said Danielle, before realizing how stupid that statement was. What did she know about what David was like anymore? "But... But he still said... He said she had bigger breasts than me!"

"So?" said Liz. "She does. That's a fact, Danielle. What difference does it make?"

"Well... Why would he stay with me if he wanted to be with her?"

"Who says he wants to be with her?" said Martin. "Just because he's noticed that she has bigger tits than you, that doesn't mean he wants anything to do with her. Or them. I mean, you'd have to be blind not to notice Shelly Baumgarter's hooters."

"But, then..." said Danielle, helpless. "Why would he even mention it?"

"Maybe to point out that he doesn't care, that he likes you all the same?" said Liz.

"Yeah, but, he didn't," said Danielle. "He started going on about how he would rather be with her because she wouldn't make him wait four years."

"I gotta tell ya, Danielle," Martin said, "that's pretty normal for just about any guy. ...For just about anyone. I mean, seriously: if you could choose between waiting a year or waiting a day for something you wanted, which would you choose?"

"And despite the fact that you made him choose the year—four years—he did stick with you," Liz said.

"Yes," said Martin, "he did. He could have run to Shelly Baumgarter at any time. But instead he stayed with you. Do you think that counts for anything?"

"He's not with me anymore," said Danielle, a little more bitterly than she'd intended.

"I guess not," said Liz. "Thanks, honey." She rose from the bed and moved to her boyfriend. "If you could go back outside now, we'll be done in here in a few."

Danielle turned away, but she couldn't close her ears to the short wet sound of their kiss. It made a little knot of bitterness in her stomach.

"So," said Liz, after the door had pounded shut. "Do you think you understand a little more now?"

"Yeah, I think so," said Danielle. "And say thanks to him for me, will you? I didn't think he'd be that helpful."

"I will," said Liz. And then, "So...", with such a pregnant pause that Danielle turned to look at her. Liz had a wicked grin on and her eyes were twinkling behind her red-rimmed glasses. "So, how was it?"

Danielle didn't want to think about that. "It... It was pretty good."

"Pretty good, huh?" said Liz, still with that evil grin. "Did you like it?"

"Yeah," said Danielle, "I really..."

"It wasn't uncomfortable or anything?"

"No, actually, he... Well." She felt her face heating. "The thing is, we've actually... We've been playing with each other for years."

"Well, yeah, you said four years."

She shook her head. "A lot longer than that. Like, since third or fourth grade."

Liz's eyebrows went up. "That long? I mean, he... Well, was the... I mean. Did everything... Work?"

"Yeah," said Danielle, confused. "Why wouldn't—? Oh. Because of puberty. No, he wasn't, like... squirting, or anything." The first time he had, he'd turned five shades of red; it had been Danielle who was most fascinated, she'd never seen anything like it. "But he could still... you know. Have an orgasm. And so could I."

"Really?" said Liz. "I didn't know you could... I didn't know it would work."

"Oh yeah," said Danielle, "everything was working. I mean, babies could never have happened, and I didn't have breasts or anything, but, like... I mean, I would get... wet, and he would get hard, and it would feel good when we touched each other. We actually could've done it if we'd wanted to." She felt a grimace pass over her face. Maybe we should've. It might've solved a whole lot of problems.

"And if you'd known how," said Liz. "So, your point is...?"

It took a moment for Danielle to catch up to the original question. "So, my point is, there wasn't any of the, you know, discomfort or anything. His fingers have been... in there... many times. No cherry to worry about, no questions of whether he'd fit, none of that."

"And you knew what you were doing," said Liz.

"Well... yeah," said Danielle. "It wasn't too hard to figure out. And, I mean, he's been doing Internet research for ages, even I've picked up some of it. We had the... what, the theory... down pretty good."

"You weren't scared?"

"Well, I... I mean, yeah, there were some... I mean, you know how it's like when you're on a new roller coaster you've never been on? You're, like, 99% sure that it's going to be fine and you aren't going to fly off and die... But that last one doubt remains? It was like that."

"But ninety-nine percent you weren't scared."

"No, not at all. I mean, we'd done things before. We've been doing things for so many years..." That should've been, 'We'd been doing things for so many years', shouldn't it? "I knew his body. He knows mine. What was there to be scared of?"

"Where was it?"

Danielle described the field David had found, and Liz made a sound of longing. "God, my first time was in the attic of Martin's house—we couldn't think of anywhere else where people wouldn't find us. At least it wasn't in a car, though; Vicky Siegel had to do that. And it felt good?"

She suppressed a shiver at the memory. "Yeah, it felt... Really good." She had thought she'd known him already, known everything there was to know about his person. But nothing could prepare her for the thrill of his body arched over her, his buttocks contracting, the power in his body as he took her. Nothing could prepare her for the feeling of his thing, impossibly large, opening her, pushing against her inner walls, filling her up—so big, so long, she felt like she was completely hollow, nothing but space for him to fill. She had never realized just how empty she felt; in fact, she had never felt empty—even in the moment that she realized she had felt it, that emptiness had been finally, irrevocably filled. "I wish I could do it again."

Liz sighed. "Wish my first time had been anywhere near as nice."

Danielle tilted her head. "Oh?"

"Yeah, it... I mean, Martin was very kind. But he was excited, I could tell. There was a lot of... Fumbling." Liz combed a strand of dark hair behind her ear; to Danielle she looked like a young Sarah Palin. "I wish in retrospect that I hadn't told him beforehand. He was so excited, he couldn't concentrate, and he, umm." Her cheeks colored. "He didn't do a good job with me. I wasn't quite ready when he went to put it in. And so he just went, and... You know. Squirted. And that was that." She looked up and gave Danielle a wry smile. "The good news was, he was very eager to improve."

"So, you got a bad first time but a lot of much better second times," said Danielle, "and I got a really great first time but nothing else."

"Sounds like it," said Liz.

"God," said Danielle. "I'd totally trade you."

"Really?" Liz turned to face her. "I'd rather have what you have."

"Yeah, but, just one time?"

"Well, I dunno about that. It's a good point. Would I look forward to sex more if the first time had been magical?"

"Has it ever been magical?"

"Umm... No, not really." Liz grimaced. "I mean, it's good, and I even come sometimes. But, it's just not... Romantic."

"Well, take him to the field," Danielle said. "Or, like, ask him if he can, you know, glamorize it up a little. I mean, just because it's not romantic now doesn't mean it can't be."

Liz gave her a sideways glance. "What just happened? Suddenly you're giving me advice. I thought we were doing it the other way around."

Danielle laughed—maybe the first time she had in weeks—and gave her a hug. "Well, what else are friends for?"