Copyright 2005 Frank Downey. All rights reserved. Any use other than personal archiving requires the permission of the author. Do not repost.

My parents had had plans to go away for the weekend. They offered to cancel them. I know they were worried about me, because of Sam. I assured them I was fine. I don’t know if they were quite convinced, but when I told my mother my plans, she laughed and agreed.

Friday Craig picked me up for a date.

"My parents are going away for the weekend," I told him.

"Ah," he said.

"So, I was wondering," I continued. "I really don’t want to be in that big house all alone all weekend." Craig laughed--I was pouring it on thick and we both knew it. "So, how about you staying over tomorrow night?"

We had gotten to a red light. Craig turned and looked at me. "Do you mean stay over, or stay over?"

"Whatsoever do you mean?" I said, grinning.

"I mean, are you going to show me to your guest room?"

"Not on your life, Lyubovnik."

He had to drive again, so he waited until we got to the next red light. "Are you sure?"

"Yup. How do you feel about it?"

"I’m getting a woody just thinking about it," he laughed.

"Good answer, Lyubovnik."

"I’ve been fantasizing about it since our first date. I just didn’t want to rush you."

"You haven’t. But I want it, and I want it bad," I admitted. "And only with you."

"Good." He sighed. "My problem is, you said stay over. I have a curfew."

"Leave that to me. Take me to your house after we eat."

"OK," he said warily.

What I was about to do next might be considered strange. But I’m not a huge fan of sneaking. I understand some people have to do it--some parents are just ridiculous. But my parents knew what I was going to be up to. And I didn’t think Craig’s parents were going to freak. If we’re old enough to make love, we should be old enough to deal with this in a mature manner, right? Yeah, I know--Craig would say my 30-year-old side was peeking out again. But I really didn’t like sneaking. Craig had a curfew. I didn’t want him to lie to get around it. And we wouldn’t be out carousing past his curfew, we’d be home. Just not his home.

The problem was--I knew it was his mother I was going to have to get by. And mothers and sons don’t talk about sex all that easily. So, I figured I was going to have to be the one to bring it up. And, to be particular about it, it wasn’t really about sex. We could have sex at any time. We could be having sex right now. It was about breaking his curfew, because I didn’t want him to have to finish up after our first time and then hit the road. Though I knew that you-know-what would come into the conversation.

So, we went over his house. And I cornered his mother in the kitchen.

"Mrs. Tolland? I’d like to ask your permission for Craig to break his curfew tomorrow night."

"What for, Ginny?"

"I’m alone in my house this weekend. I’d like Craig to stay over and keep me company."

She was leaning into her refrigerator, not looking at me. "You have a guest room at your place, Ginny, or you going to make him sleep on the couch?" she said with a grin I could hear.

I waited to answer that, until she’d straightened up out of the refrigerator. Like I said, no sneaking, and I wanted to see her face when I answered that. I looked right at her and told her the truth. "Yes, Mrs. Tolland, we have a couple of guest rooms. But Craig won’t be using any of them."

She looked right back. "Are you asking me permission to have sex with my son?"

"No," I said, and told her what I’d thought earlier. "We could do that without breaking curfew. We could be doing that this moment if we wanted to. No, I’m asking your permission to keep him there overnight afterwards." I gave her a little smile. "It’s going to be my first time. I want the full-night unlimited cuddle afterwards."

"You are an extremely unusual girl, Ginny Klusse."

"Well, that’s a given," I grinned.

"Do your parents know what you’ve got planned?"

"Yes. Well, Mom does. She’s very open. I’m sure she’s given Dad a heads up as well, but she’s who I talked to about it."

"OK." She took a breath. "Craig has a curfew, mainly, because we don’t want him out driving late at night. He’s only had his license for a short time, his judgement may be impaired when he’s tired, and all the nuts and drunks are out late at night. If I give him permission to break his curfew, I want your guarantee that neither of you will be out driving past eleven."

"You’ve got it."

"Good. I’ll tell him later."

"Thanks," I grinned.

He called me the next morning. "OK, what the hell happened?"

"Hm?" I said.

"My mother just told me she knows I’m not coming home tonight and it’s OK with her. What the heck did you tell her?"

"Don’t worry about it. She said it’s OK, right? I just told her I needed company tonight." I wasn’t going to embarrass him!

"OK," he said warily.

"And you’re coming for dinner. I’m cooking."

"Woah. The full works!" His voice dropped. "Uh, do I need to stop at a drug store on the way?"

"Nope. Got that covered. All I need is you."

"You got it."

He got there about five. I cooked. I’m not bad at cooking certain things. I made Boeuf Bourgingon, something I’d known how to make for a while. It came out great.

I’d asked my Mom if I could pull a bottle of wine out of the wine cellar, and she agreed. A good red wine goes well with Boeuf Bourgingon--hell, there’s wine in it! We each had a glass with supper, then took the bottle into the living room with us.

We watched TV for a bit. Then I grabbed the wine--there was still quite a bit left--and the two glasses, and stood up. "Let’s finish this upstairs," I said.

"OK," Craig replied. I led him to my bedroom. We sat on the bed. I poured us each another glass. You know, enough to get us relaxed, but not tipsy or anything. We ended up sitting in my bed, up against the headboard, still clothed, drinking the wine.

"You OK?" I said.

"Yeah. Nervous," he admitted.

"That makes two of us. That’s what the wine’s for," I giggled.

"This is actually the first time I’ve ever had wine. You know teenaged boys, when they get their hands on something to drink. ‘BEER!’"

I laughed. "I actually hate the taste of beer. I like wine, though."

"It’s good," he agreed. "Especially with that dinner you made. Much more refined than beer."

"That’s the idea."

"How long have you been planning this?" he asked.

"Two days," I grinned.

"Dinner, wine, empty house, no curfew for Craig--all in two days? That’s pretty impressive."

"Well, I didn’t have time to cover the bed with rose petals, but the rest worked OK. So far," I said impishly. "You know, this big brain of mine comes in handy sometimes."

"It does, huh? Well, I guess that gives me my marching orders for the evening." He drained the rest of his wine. I followed suit.

"What marching orders are they?" I asked.

"That big brain of yours?" he said, as he pulled me into his arms. "I’m going to try to short-circuit it."

"Oooh, won’t that be fun!" He kissed me then, long and deep. "Not nervous anymore, Lyubovnik?"

"Yes. But turned on. And in love, so it balances out."

"Ditto. To all of those. Kiss me again." And so he did.

Damn, I felt so comfortable with him!

He broke the kiss again and his hands went to the buttons on my blouse. I grinned up at him. "So, do you have any specific ideas of how to short-circuit my brain?"

"I have a few," he said.

"If you get stumped, I might have some."

"Listen to us," he laughed. "The two blushing virgins, going on like we’re Casanova."

"I may be a blushing virgin, but I do read. I’ve done my research."

"Yeah, now there’s a shock," he chuckled. "However, I need to tell you, Brainiac, that I also did my homework."

"Goody!"

He had my blouse completely unbuttoned by now, and I sat up a bit to help him get it off. Then he went for the bra. "You know what?" he said. "The wine worked."

"Yup," I said. "What my mother always says is, ‘Not so much that you get drunk, but just enough to get a glow.’"

"You glow anyway," he said.

Damn, my heart skipped a beat at that! Mercy me. That was just the type of thing, a casual tossed-off compliment, to get me right where I live. If you pour it on too think, I question your sincerity. But something like this? Completely gets me.

Jesus! How did this guy know me so well?

By this point, I was naked from the waist up and he was playing with the ol’ tittie while he kissed me. Then, he kissed his way down. As I’ve said, it wasn’t the first time for that bit. Not that I’m complaining, mind you, I loved it. But it not being the first time for that probably explains why I was still so relaxed. Being relaxed is not my thing. But I was plenty relaxed at the moment, sighing happily while he sucked on my nipple.

Then again, the wine did help.

And it’s a good thing. I was wearing a skirt, you see. And one of his hands was rapidly crawling up my leg. And then a finger swiped its way up my panties.

Boy, didn’t that feel nice!

It didn’t take long before Craig was tugging at my panties, trying to get them off. I raised my ass off the bed to help him. While he was getting them off my feet, I reached around and unsnapped my skirt. When he looked back up, I was stark naked.

OK, so I was nervous. I think I’ve established that I wasn’t thrilled with my body.

I should’ve known better. Craig’s eyes were locked onto me--all of me. "God, you’re beautiful," he gasped. I don’t know if I’d ever agree with that, but it was nice that somebody thought so!

He also looked like he was about to pounce! Which was a nice thought, but there was some unfinished business. "Your turn," I said, and started tugging on his shirt. He laughed and got the picture. Between the two of us, we managed to get his shirt and pants off. He stood up and took care of the boxer shorts himself.

Uh...well....you know, I’d thought I was fully prepared for this. I wanted it, I was sure of that. I’d been dreaming of it since puberty--which, for me, was at about eleven--and I definitely now wanted it with Craig specifically. I’d prepared myself. And I wasn’t kidding about the research. I was a voracious reader anyhow--adding ‘naughty stuff’ to my reading repertoire was something I’d done some time ago. Not only that, but I’d read all the ‘instructional’ stuff, too--for me, that was just more education. Well, mostly. And I wasn’t above peeking at pictures or the odd video on the internet.

So, I was ready already, right? Well....shit. As soon as Craig dropped his undershorts, I quickly realized my mistake. Apparently, even your basic oversized porn star dick looks small on a seventeen-inch monitor. Seeing one in the, er, flesh was completely different.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. Don’t ask me size, I didn’t have a ruler handy, and had no basis of comparison. But when I saw that...thing sticking out from my boyfriend’s groin, I had two thoughts. One was ‘God, I want him!’ The second was, ‘How in hell is that thing gonna fit?’

As Craig lowered himself back next to me on the bed, I unwittingly verbalized the latter.

Craig just laughed. "Hey, your equipment’s designed to let a baby out. I think it can take me."

"Babies hurt," I said pedantically.

He got a solemn look on his face. "Well, from what I understand, this won’t be painless, either. You know I’ll be gentle, but..."

"Well, I don’t have a hymen," I told him. "Don’t know what happened to it, but it’s not there." I looked down at his dick. Somehow, my hand had involuntarily wrapped itself around it. "But you’re so big!"

"Just average, from what I can tell."

"Coulda fooled me!" I exclaimed.

He reached out and grabbed my ass. "Damn, you’re good for my ego," he laughed. "Anyhow, it’s gonna fit. I promise. I’ll just have to work you up first." He looked down at my hand, which was still--with no real input from my brain--tugging on his dick. "Of course, I think that’s working the other way around at the moment."

"You want I should stop?"

"Not necessarily. But do you want me to cum all over your hand?"

"Well, I read that if you cum first, you’ll last longer inside me. And since you’re sixteen, I’m counting on a quick recovery anyhow."

He broke up laughing. "Figures. I get to have my first time with the most analytical and logical teenager in the universe."

"You complaining?"

"No," he said, but then he grimaced.

"Something wrong?"

"Uh, well, when I do myself, you see, I usually use something. Hand lotion or something."

"Oh," I said, and pulled my hand away from his dick. I reached over him to open the drawer in my night table, and withdrew a tube of KY. "Something like this?"

He chuckled. "Analytical, logical, and prepared. You did go to the drug store." He peered in the open drawer. "Didn’t you buy anything else?"

I quickly twigged onto his meaning. "Don’t need those. We’re both virgins, so disease isn’t a worry. As for the other thing, I’m on the pill."

"OK," he said. I put a dab of the KY on my hand, and reached back down. "Oooooh!" he moaned.

"Better?"

"Heaven," he said. His hand went back to my ass. "God, I’ve wanted my hands on your bare ass for over a year." I couldn’t help but giggle at that.

Now that I’d gotten going, I was enjoying it. His dick was hard but still soft, and nice and warm. I liked it in my hand, a lot. And I found out I really liked his hand on my ass!

As for him, I do believe he was enjoying himself, what with all that moaning and groaning. His other hand--the one that wasn’t on my ass--was clutching a boob, which was also fun.

It didn’t take long at all before he yelped "GINNY!" and my hand got very, very wet.

I reached down behind me on the floor for a towel. Yes, I’d had some handy--I’d read about wet spots and this was my bed, after all! This one I just used to wipe off my hand. Then I looked at him, still flushed and breathing heavy.

"You gonna live?" I asked.

"Most definitely."

"You gonna recover?"

"Eventually," he laughed. He flipped over so he was facing me, and kissed me, long and deep--while his hands roamed all over me. He broke the kiss and said, "I think I’ll have to play a bit while I recuperate."

"That sounds like fun," I grinned. He grinned back, and quickly lowered his lips to my nipple.

My arousal, while never completely disappearing, had gone to a low hum while I was jacking him off. It was fun, and sexy, but I was concentrating on him and my arousal had kind of gone on the back burners. Well, no more for that. His mouth on my nipple was working me back up, and he had a hand lazily cupping my pussy. Not doing much, mind you, just making contact. It was warm, and very nice. Oh, and arousing. Definitely that.

Then he kissed my stomach! Well, who the hell would’ve guessed that? It made me jump, even. Especially when he kissed my belly button!

And then he kept going. And I quickly figured out where he was headed. Now, of course, I’d read about this--but didn’t expect it, not tonight especially!

But I wasn’t going to turn it down. In fact, when it looked like he’d stopped the forward progress, I stifled an impatient groan. But stifle it I did--I didn’t want to be a demanding bitch or anything--and I was glad I did when I realized why he’d stopped: he’d seen the towels on the floor, divined their purpose, and was reaching for one. "Raise your hips, honey," he said. I did.

Next thing I knew I had a tongue on my pussy--and boy did that feel fantastic!

It was unbelievable. His tongue seemed to hit, just right, every nook and cranny of my labia. Then he stuck it into my opening, and wasn’t that a trip! After a bit of that, he went for the clittie.

I think I jumped five feet in the air.

"Too much?" he asked.

"N-no," I managed. He swept down my pussy again, then back up. I managed to confine the jumping to a couple of feet that time. "God," I gasped, "you sure you’ve never done this?"

"Nope," he said mildly. "Told you--did my research." Then he went back to his tongue on my pussy.

That’s when it hit me, right upside the head. It all added up, right in that minute.

I’d gotten hints the whole time we were going out. Hell, I’d gotten hints last year, in Chem lab.

Craig didn’t have my grades. Of course, nobody did. He did well, but he wasn’t going to be valedictorian, and I was. He himself had made remarks about being ‘nowhere near my league’. I’d kind of dismissed them, though I’m sure the egomaniac part of me agreed with them to a certain extent. The egomaniac part of me was wrong, dead wrong.

Because that’s what I finally realized--Craig was a thinker. Yeah, grades, and IQ and all that--but that went back to what I told him earlier, it just being a matter of speed. That’s not having the thinking mindset. The thinking mindset is knowing you’re going to end up in bed with your significant other at some point in time--and doing research on it. The thinking mindset is using psychology--and that’s just what it was--to talk your girlfriend down from a bad self-esteem day. Seeing the towels on the floor and instantly knowing what they were for. There were other things. It all added up, finally. Shit, I’m Example Number One--here I was with my boyfriend doing extremely wonderful things to my pussy with his tongue and my brain is racing a mile a minute with this shit!

Well, I knew that about myself--who else would’ve been logical and analytical about suicide? Stupid, maybe, as Joe told me--but logical and analytical all the same.

But that was me. Realizing Craig was a true kindred spirit, in more ways that I’d realized, was astounding.

This all ran through my head in less than a minute, mind you. And it was a good thing. Because Craig was giving all that research of his some excellent real-world application. And all that application did exactly what he promised to do--fried my neural synapses to a crisp! Just as I came to this whole ‘great minds think alike’ realization, he upped the ante on my clittie. And that was all she wrote, temporarily anyhow, for Ginny The Brain.

My GOD. It was like explosions. Yeah, explosions in my pussy--sure, I expected that. What took me by surprise was the explosions upstairs. It was like sticking my brain in a box of fireworks. Including, after a few minutes of him sucking on my clittie, the traditional Grand Finally. I think they heard the screams three towns away.

Jesus. By the time he was done, and had crawled up next to me--hugging me, which was about the only thing that let me know I was still in this world--my brain had turned into a throbbing pile of mush. And I didn’t mind one little bit.

"Boy, it’s nice to know I can make Miss Logical scream," he said with a chuckle.

I opened my eyes and grinned at him. "Funny, I felt the same way when I saw Mister Research get all glassy-eyed when I jerked him off." He blinked twice, figured out exactly what I meant--I saw that in his eyes--and grinned. And then he kissed me.

Look, we’d already had the meeting of the hearts. This was the meeting of the minds. And we both knew it.

And only I would figure out something like that in bed!

However, that wasn’t the only thing I was figuring out. I was figuring out the answer to something I’d said to Shannon way back, on that first day we’d met. The thing about just being allowed to think, not being allowed to feel.

Craig allowed--no, fuck that, Craig encouraged me to do both. When I got around to telling him--which I would--what had been going through my mind over the past ten minutes, from the analysis to the fireworks, he’d crack up and make a comment about how that was ‘just like me’. I knew it.

And that might’ve been the greatest gift of all.

We were still cuddling. I was still sort of in my post-orgasmic deadassedness, but was beginning to join the Land of the Coherent slowly but surely. And I wasn’t quite sure I wanted to. Not yet. There was still one more thing. And, God, I was ready!

I reached down and found what I’d hoped. "You’re recovered," I said.

"Basic male biology, Sweetie. You think I’m gonna not recover while doing what I was just doing?" he laughed.

"You’re such an ass," I said, with absolutely no heat whatsoever.

"You love me anyway."

"You’re right." I tugged on not-so-Little-Craig. "Let’s see if this thing will fit."

"I guarantee it," he said. Then he climbed up on top of me, and proved it. Without a doubt. Yeah, it took some effort--I was a virgin, after all, even without a hymen--but he got it in like it belonged in there, and without an ounce of pain.

"Oh, Lyubovnik, this is heavenly," I told him when he hit bottom.

"No pain?" he said.

"None whatsoever," I assured him. "You can start moving anytime."

"Give me a minute," he said, not without strain.

Whoops. I had to grin at that. "Recite the periodic table in your head," I told him. He snorted out a bark of strained laughter. "Seriously, Lyubovnik. Go for it. I already had one. And if you go off too soon--well, we do have all night, right?"

He didn’t say anything. He just started moving--slowly at first, which was best for both of us. I groaned, and brought my legs up around his hips. He leaned down and captured my mouth with his. Hot damn!

After five or so long, slow, unbelievable strokes, he stopped again. "You OK?" I asked him.

"Yes," he said. "I’ve decided on the alphabet backwards."

I cracked up, which produced rather interesting sensations--laughing with a dick all the way up inside me! "I’ll teach you the Russian one, it’s got seven more letters," I teased.

"I need more than seven," he said ruefully.

"Craig. Really. It’s OK. If you knew how good this felt you wouldn’t worry."

"Not just for you," he said. "I don’t want this to end."

"It won’t be an end, just a break. Now kiss me!"

He smiled, kissed me, and started moving again. I had my hands on his shoulders. I guess the backwards-alphabet thing worked, because I felt the strain in his shoulders go way down.

This time, he kept going. And I was hearing fireworks again. A bit in the distance, but they were getting closer.

"Go faster, Lyubovnik," I told him. "Just a little." He recaptured my lips with his and picked up the pace. Just a little. But it was enough.

Rumble...rumble....BOOM!

"God!" I murmured into his mouth. "Oh, God, Craig! God!" We were still kissing but kept missing each other’s mouth. Who cared? This was....WOW!

"Craig?" I gasped after a couple minutes. "Oh, baby, faster, ‘k?"

"If...I’m gonna..."

"It’s OK, baby, take me with you," I said.

He went faster. And he took me right with him.

Ka-BLAM!!!!

I shook. I screamed. I stuck my tongue down his throat. A dead man wouldn’t last through that--and Craig didn’t--but it didn’t matter. He took me with him, in a big way. I just came apart at the seams.

All over the pillow. Little bits of Ginny-brain leaking out my ear, all over the pillow. Had no doubt of it.

And it was glorious.

He rolled off of me--worrying about crushing me, like I gave a shit--but took me with him, so we ended up side-by-side, cuddled, our lips still all over the other’s face.

We’d covered hearts and minds, right? This was souls. Well, yeah, bodies too--but not just that. I felt like I’d found the other half of myself.

We came down from it sloshing all over each other like two kinky amoebas. Even after Little Craig slipped out, I still wasn’t sure where I ended and he began. Wow.

After the odd aimless kisses and punch-drunk murmuring, I told him. "It means lover," I whispered.

"Hm?"

"Lyubovnik. It means lover."

He just hugged me tighter. It was the last thing I remember before I fell asleep.

It’s kind of strange waking up at three in the morning in any case. Waking up disoriented and with a full bladder only makes it stranger.

Disoriented? Well, yeah. I’m not used to waking up snuggled into a guy’s chest with his hands on my ass! Not that I was complaining, mind you.

The full bladder, that I was complaining about. Because it necessitated that I unwrap myself from said guy and go take care of it. At least I had a bathroom right there, attatched to my room. I went and did my thing. I also wet a washcloth and used it on my thighs--I was a bit, er, sticky. When I came back out, that guy in my bed was on his side, as awake as I was, grinning at me.

"My turn," he said.

"You know, there’s another bathroom down the hall," I said.

"And miss seeing you saunter back in here naked as a jaybird? Perish the thought." He waited until I got back in the bed, kissed me, then went to do his thing.

When he got back, I was wide awake. He leaned over and started kissing me. One hand went right to the boob, the other one started on my ass. Before long, it was between my legs.

"You trying to get me going again?" I asked.

"Yup. Is it working?"

"Definitely."

"Are you sore?"

"Not at all," I assured him.

"Good. You see, it did fit."

"Yes it did," I agreed. "Evidently, fucking violates all the laws of physics."

"You’re forgetting the elasticity factor."

"Really. You got a formula for that?"

"You’re asking ME?" he roared, cracking up. "Who’s the brain around here?"

"Both of us," I said pointedly.

"OK, be that as it may, who’s the physics brain around here?"

"OK, touche," I laughed.

"That and the Russian brain. That reminds me. How do you say ‘gorgeous ass’ in Russian?"

"I have no idea," I laughed. "Google it."

"I can’t read that alphabet!"

"You Google, I’ll transliterate." God, his hand on my pussy was making me very, very wet--again. "It’s just more research. Which reminds me--anything you discover in your research we haven’t tried yet?"

"Lots," he said. "Blowjobs, for example."

"Was that a request?" I twinkled.

"Actually, no," he said seriously. "I’m sixteen, but I’m not unlimited. If we’re going for number three in one night, I can’t guarantee a fourth, even with the few hours sleep in between, and I have better places to put number three."

"I agree."

"Plus I want to try to save one for the morning." I just looked at him. "We need to christen your shower."

"Oh, Lyubovnik, now there’s an idea! I must admit, I was surprised blowjobs was your first response."

"Really?"

"Knowing you, I figured it’d be anal."

"Not that I didn’t think of it, mind you, but that’s the advanced course, Sweetie."

"True. Glad I bought the big tube of KY."

"You’re something else."

"So are you," I said. "Of course, you knew that. I’m running like a river already."

"Yeah, I noticed we didn’t need the KY for that. Should I do something about you running like a river?"

"I think so," I teased. "We should probably do something about this, too," I said, tugging on his very hard dick. "You know what? I did my research as well."

"Ah, yes. You mentioned that. Did you find anything interesting?"

"Well, there’s this girl-on-top thing," I said impishly. "That sounded like fun."

He grinned, and spun away from me, off of his side to end up lying flat on his back with his dick sticking up in the air like a flagpole. "Don’t let me stop you!"

Well, what do you think I did? Straddled him, of course!

And I was right. It was fun. I do think I got him a little deeper like that. The fireworks were even more intense. Problem was, he’d discovered some stamina since he was going for number three, and I left him hanging. The minute the fireworks went kablooey my poor overworked brain forgot how to work my legs. Luckily, he quickly sized up the situation--not difficult since I was flopping all over him like an uncoordinated walrus--and flipped me over. That finished him off. And got me another one--a wee bit smaller, but very very nice. Smaller was probably good at that point, since by then I think I’d forgotten my name!

We nodded off to sleep again quickly after that, still wrapped up in one another. And, yes, when we woke up at about nine we went for the knee-trembler in the shower. We were just close enough in height to make that one work. Then we got to wash all the residue off one another, which was almost as fun!

The funnest part, though? When he washed my hair for me. Sigh. How romantic!

I made him breakfast, of course. Then we hung out, mostly cuddling and kissing, until Craig had to leave about two in the afternoon. I did homework, still tingling to myself. When the parents got home, Mom tried the ol’ third degree.

"So, did you have a good weekend?"

"The best," I grinned.

"Really?" she said.

"Oh, yeah," I said. "If you’re fishing for details, you ain’t gonna get any," I said, to laughter from both of us. "Let’s just say it was better than I could’ve even dreamed."

"Good," she said.

I went to bed that night happy as a clam. You know the expression, "I could die happy tomorrow"? I’m a suicide survivor. I’m not going to say that. What I could say was that I could wake up alive tomorrow happy. That was even better.

The problem was, I didn’t.

And I couldn’t figure out why.

When I woke up Monday morning, all I could think about was what Zoe had said about herself. You know, the feeling like you were being buried alive thing. I felt the weight of something on me. And I didn’t know what, and I didn’t know why.

When I got to school, it got worse. It especially got worse in my first period class when I sat down next to a grinning Craig. It got even worse when I sat down in front of him at lunch. I think I faked it well, but every time I saw him, I felt...I don’t know what!

It was like a tug-of-war I couldn’t figure out. Part of me wanted to run screaming every time I saw him. The other part wanted to stow away in his backpack, pretty much forever.

I couldn’t make heads or tails out of it. Shit, maybe my brain was fried. But it left me at a loss. Like I said, I analyzed suicide. Oh, we can argue about whether or not my analysis was flawed, sure. And it wasn’t completely unemotional--Shannon was right about the anger. And one could certainly make the point that I was working from badly flawed data. But I did think it through.

I couldn’t think this through. It wasn’t thought--it was all feeling, and feelings I couldn’t get a grasp on. Every time I tried to pin it down, I felt like a dog chasing its own tail.

It was driving me out of my mind.

That wasn’t the worst part, though. The worst part was that people were starting to notice the mental merry-go-round I’d hopped onto. Now, I fooled Shannon, in our one-on-one and group. And I think I had my parents mostly fooled.

I couldn’t fool Craig.

I’d been blowing him off, plain and simple. Saying I had things to do at lunch. I begged off the Friday Night Date with a fictional tale of family plans. Told him to call Saturday to see what was up that night. When he did, I told him I was sick.

I just couldn’t deal with him. I was having a hard enough time just dealing with the slippery whirlygigs that kept bashing through my cerebral cortex. I just couldn’t get a handle on this.

I thought I’d fooled Craig with the sickness thing. I was wrong. A half hour after I hung up the phone, my Mom was calling up to me. "Ginny! Craig’s here, I’m sending him up!"

Shit!

He walked in to find me sitting on the bed. "Hi, honey," he said. "I figured that if you were sick I should come over and play nursemaid." He looked at me pointedly. "That is, if you’re really sick."

I just looked down.

He came over me and sat next to me at the bed. "Ginny, what’s wrong?" I just shrugged. "You’ve been avoiding me all week." I didn’t say anything.

"I thought you wanted it," he said softly. "I thought you enjoyed it."

"I did!"

"Then what’s wrong?" I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say.

That’s when he lowered the boom. He took my hand, and stared at me until I looked up at him. His eyes locked on mine. "Ginny, a couple of months ago, you made me a promise. I’m holding you to it."

It took me a minute to realize what he meant. When I did, I reacted in horror. "God, Craig, no! I’m not thinking about..."

"Yes, you are," he cut me off. "Or, if you’re not exactly at this moment, you soon will be. Ginny, you’re depressed, don’t deny it. I’m scared of where that might lead."

"So am I," I admitted in a whisper.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No. Not at all. It’s just..." I trailed off.

"OK, then I’m keeping you to your promise. You need to talk to me."

"I can’t."

"Why not?"

"I don’t know." He was going to say something, but I held up my hand. "I don’t know what’s wrong, that’s the problem. OK. You’re right, I did make you a promise. But I can’t do this alone, because I’m confused."

"I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong."

"I know. I have an idea," I said, just as it popped into my head. "Come with me Tuesday to my session with Shannon."

"OK. That’s a good idea. I’ll do it. I’ll have to get the day off from work, but that shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll go see Shannon. As long as you promise, absolutely swear to me, that you will not do anything stupid between now and Tuesday. I want your solemn word."

"Yes. I swear."

"OK. I love you, you know," he said with a small smile.

"I know. I love you too."

"You want me to leave you alone today," he said.

It wasn’t a question. I answered it anyway. "Yes. I’m sorry."

"It’s OK." He squeezed my hand, kissed me on the cheek, and then he was gone.

I felt...drained. Horrible, in fact. But at least I’d made a damn decision.

Craig drove me to Shannon’s office on Tuesday in silence.

I know Shannon was a little surprised to see Craig there--she’d met him at the wake, so she knew who he was.

"I have a problem, and I’m not sure why. Craig’s here because I promised to talk to him if I was getting, you know, down again. But I need you here because I’m confused."

"OK," Shannon agreed. "Start from the beginning."

I told her the whole thing, including what had happened a week and a half ago, that we had made love. And I struggled trying to explain the aftermath.

"So, you made love--and it was fine," Shannon said.

"A whole lot better than fine," I grinned, with a glance towards Craig.

"No regrets," Shannon said.

"None," I agreed.

"And you woke up the next morning, happy. He was there, and you guys enjoyed each other again, and you were fine."

"Perfectly."

"This didn’t hit until after he had left."

"Moreso the next morning, yes, but it was after he’d left."

"Well, that’s easy," Craig joked, "next time I just won’t leave."

He said that...and something snapped.

"DON’T YOU SAY THAT!" I screeched. "DON’T YOU DARE SAY THAT! DON’T PROMISE ME THAT!" And after that, I just started wailing.

I had absolutely no idea where it came from. I was having a complete breakdown because of a stupid joke, and I couldn’t even tell you why. And even through my wails I managed to spot both Shannon and Craig looking at me in complete horror.

"Ginny," Shannon said softly as I started to calm down some, "you need to explain to Craig and I what’s going through your head. Because you just scared the daylights out of both of us. Craig didn’t say anything to prompt that kind of reaction. What did that make you think of?"

I held up my hand, asking for a bit of time, while I composed myself. Then, finally, I got an image in my head that might help explain my muddled brain.

"OK, it’s like this. You’ve seen this in a movie or cartoon. Think of a cliff face. And there’s a guy hanging off the cliff. And there’s another guy, on top, lying across the top of the cliff. And he’s reaching over, and he’s got the dangling guy by the hand, and he’s trying to pull him up."

"OK," Shannon said.

"But it’s not working. And the guy up top starts sliding and can’t get his grip back. And the guy dangling knows that he has to either let go, or pull the other guy off the cliff with him."

"You’re the dangling guy," Shannon grasped immediately.

"Yes."

"And Craig’s the guy on top."

"Yes," I admitted, numb to my core.

"You’re underestimating my strength," Craig said beside me with a little grin. "Mental, I mean, since we’re dealing with a metaphor here. You’re underestimating my mental strength."

"That’s not the point," I sighed. "Craig, a while ago I made another promise to you--I promised I’d never make you responsible for saving my life. Whoops--too late," I spat bitterly.

"You notice I’d never held you to that particular one?" he said gently.

"You don’t get it," I spat. "I’m obsessed. If you offer not to leave again, I might handcuff you to the damn bed!" He chuckled, but I ignored it. I turned back to Shannon. "I’m completely obsessed! It was bad enough, but having sex just made it worse. He walked out the door and I felt half my soul was walking away! I’ve put all my self-esteem in his hands and that’s just not fair to him. Shit, we’re in the same damn room and I want to crawl into his clothes with him! I’m going to end up asking way too much of him. I’ve completely lost all perspective. Let’s face it, I’ve completely lost my mind."

I looked up at Shannon when I finished this diatribe...and she was laughing!

I just goggled at her. Why was she laughing at me?

"Ginny," she said kindly, "why do you think this is unusual?"

"Huh?"

"Why do you think this is unusual?" I repeated. "You think Craig feels any different?"

I looked at Craig and he was chuckling. "I’ll buy the handcuffs," he said. "Ginny, I feel exactly what you feel. And I don’t have any questions about my mental health."

"It’s natural," Shannon went on. "Look, Ginny, you’re sixteen. Craig’s your first--both physically and emotionally. First love, first sexual experience. If you weren’t somewhat obsessed, then I’d worry."

"You’ve been around Alex and Johanna enough," Craig said to me. He turned to Shannon. "Alex is my best friend. He’s been with Johanna for two years." He turned back to me. "Those two, half the time, they look like they’re trying to occupy the same space! Ginny, you’ve seen it, you know what I’m talking about. I used to tease them," he told Shannon, "until I got hit by the same thunderbolt."

"It’s normal," Shannon said. "Ginny, you’re getting better. You’ve gotten a lot better. However, you have one big thing holding you back, and this is a good example of it. When you get feelings that confuse you, you automatically assume that the feelings are abnormal or bad or indicative of mental illness. You never assume that they’re normal or natural."

I thought about that for a minute. Shannon went on. "Let me tell you a story. His name was, and is, Chris. We started dating about the same age you are--beginning of Junior year.

"Now, he wasn’t my first, sexually speaking. I’d had a boyfriend a year before, and I was curious, so I did it with him. But I wasn’t in love with him and the sex was OK but not much more than that.

"With Chris, it was both. He was my first true love, and the first one that I’d had both love and sex with. You want to talk about obsessed? Shit, I would’ve let him handcuff himself to my bed and to me with him in me if I could’ve gotten away with it." I had to laugh at that image!

"But isn’t that, I don’t know, unhealthy?" I asked.

"It can be. But if you realize what you’re feeling is normal, you can guard against it and deal with it. I mean, you’re not really going to handcuff Craig to the bed!"

"Yeah, my mother might come looking for me if she did," Craig laughed. "That might be a wee bit embarrassing."

"Exactly," Shannon agreed with a laugh. "So, Ginny, if you understand the feelings are normal, you can deal with them. You can talk them out, with Craig. You can confront them together. By the way, it can be unhealthy in some sense, but being that much in love with someone is not inherently a bad thing, you know."

"Yeah," I agreed with a little smile. "How did you deal with it?" I asked her.

She took a breath. "OK," she said. "I’m going to tell you a story I don’t tell too many of my patients.

"Chris and I were together for the rest of high school. And we did talk about being too dependent on one another. So, to test the relationship, we decided to go to separate colleges. Chris’s father had gone to Northwestern and Chris had always wanted to go there. I went to Michigan. We were going to try to be faithful.

"It was probably going to be a little easier for me, because I had my big brother Ben already at Michigan. He was a junior my freshman year, and promised to show me around. I idolized Ben so that was cool.

"The first semester was tough enough. When we got home for Christmas, though, it got worse. Chris seemed so happy at Northwestern. He kept telling me how much he loved it. He didn’t mention girls, but I was worried. And I wasn’t all that thrilled with Michigan and Ben didn’t seem to have as much time for me as I’d hoped.

"So, I went back to school feeling unsure and a bit abandoned. I’ll be honest, I didn’t know if Chris and I were going to last the semester. Then, in February, my world fell apart."

"Chris found someone else," I guessed.

"No. Far, far worse than that," she said with a look of real pain. "My brother killed himself."

I couldn’t help the horrified gasp.

"Now you know why I do what I do for a living," she said with a wry little smile. Then she sobered again. "Of course, at the time, I wasn’t thinking about that--that came later. Ben’s roommate had gone away for the weekend--when he came back, he found Ben dead of a gunshot wound to the head.

"There was no question of it being suicide. Ben left a note. It was drugs. The sad thing is, he’d finally kicked them. He’d been hooked on cocaine for over a year, but had kicked it in November. The problem was, he owed thousands and thousands of dollars to dealers. He’d tried gambling to win the money and got in an even bigger hole. I guess the dealer had come around the previous week and roughed him up. He was due back again a couple days hence. And Ben was too ashamed to go to my parents and ask for help. So he killed himself instead.

"I was beside myself with grief. And guess who I blamed?" she asked.

"Yourself?"

"Well, to a point. I felt guilty that I’d never noticed that Ben was using. But no. I blamed Chris. Because he wasn’t there."

"Oh."

"I went home, of course. My poor parents. They were just out of their minds. And, me, I sat in my room blaming Chris for not being there. Of course, I never even called him. I expected him to be a mindreader or something, and the whole time I had this image in my mind of him not being here because he was with some other girl.

"I got lucky, though. Even in the midst of their own grief, my parents figured out what was going on. My Dad called Chris that night. He drove from Chicago to here in the middle of the night without stopping. I got woken up by him pounding on my door at five o’clock in the morning.

"He stayed with me all throughout the wake and funeral. He held me when I couldn’t stop crying. And, after all that was over, we had a talk. He did like Northwestern but a lot of what he’d told me over Christmas break was bluster. He thought he was making sure I didn’t worry about him--because he was pretty miserable and didn’t want me to realize it.

"After we had that talk, Chris decided to transfer to Michigan the next year. So, Ginny, I know what you mean about being obsessed. Because I was." She smiled at me. "I still am, you know. Chris and I got married right after we graduated. And he went to work and worked his ass off to get me through medical school. We’ve been through some crap together--my brother, the whole med school thing. Right now we’re struggling because I’m trying to get pregnant and it’s not working," she admitted. "We’ve been going to a fertility specialist. But we’ve been married for ten years and I’m still completely obsessed with him, you know."

"Wow," I said with a grin.

"Obsession isn’t necessarily a bad thing, not when it comes from love. And leaning on your partner isn’t a bad thing, either. Ginny, it’ll work both ways eventually. Chris lost both of his parents within a few months a few years back, so I was there for him. Craig knows he has to be there for you, now, and he knows why. Let him."

Craig and I got into the car, not saying much.

"Am I taking you home?" he asked.

"No. You’re taking me somewhere to eat," I said.

"Good," he grinned.

We went to the local burger emporium, and got some grease to eat. "You feeling better?" he asked.

"Yeah. I think so," I told him. "One thing I didn’t get a chance to ask Shannon, though. Why did it take me so long to figure out what was bothering me?"

"That’s an easy one," he said. "You were running from it."

"That makes sense."

"Goes back to what she was saying about you thinking it was abnormal. You thought it was another symptom of your addled mind, or something, so you ran from it."

"Very astute. Who’s the brain around here anyway?" I grinned at him.

"Both of us," he grinned back.

"Damn, you’re good for me, Lyubovnik."

"As long as you keep remembering that."

"I’m sorry," I said.

"Don’t be," he said. "Look, Ginny, there’s something you have to remember. I asked you out with my eyes wide open, OK? I knew exactly what I was getting into. Look, I am not capable of saving your life. I didn’t do that. I can’t. However, giving you another reason to stick around? That I can do."

"OK," I said. "So," I changed the subject, "two more days of school until Christmas Break. I can’t wait."

"We’re off for a week and a half. We’ll have to find some things to keep us occupied."

"I think we can do that," I purred. "In fact, I think we can start tonight. I’m caught up on my studying."

"Your place or mine?" he laughed.

"Well, you’re mother’s pretty cool, but I don’t have a little sister, so I think my place is probably better."

"Good plan."

So, we went to my house. Mom just grinned when I took Craig upstairs. It was as good as the first time.

We were cuddling afterwards. No overnights tonight--and it was going to kill me for him to leave--but I’d live with it. And we did have an hour or so for a good cuddle.

"You’re gonna love what I got you for Christmas," he said.

"Shit! I forgot! Damn, Craig, I was so loopy this week I forgot to go Christmas shopping. I’ll have to go out tomorrow to get you a present."

"Relax," he said, kissing my shoulder and fondling a boob. "I already got it. Right here."

OK, so I do look beautiful

Well, tonight I look beautiful. A prom dress will do that. And a full-blown treatment at the hair salon, and my mother working for an hour on my makeup!

Yup, it was Junior Prom Night. I was looking forward to it. I really did like this dress, it was flattering. It was a deep blue color. It minimized my tummy, and accentuated my boobs. OK, so it accentuated my ass, too--that for Craig, of course!

Well, of course I was going to the prom with Craig! Who else?

Yep, we were still together. Yep, we were still obsessed. It was OK. We spent a lot of time together. We’d gotten to the point in our relationship when being together was the important part--even if we were doing something that really wasn’t a ‘together’ kind of thing, like studying. We studied together all the time--and I mean studied. Well, with the odd kiss break, sure--but we really did study. Him more than me, which he teased me about, but I always found something to read while he was finishing up. We could hang out with friends or family and just be normal about it.

Of course, weekends were a different story. Craig stayed over, all the time. His mother didn’t mind, as long as we weren’t out driving. My parents were just thrilled I was so happy.

Who wouldn’t be happy with all that wonderful sex? God, we were made for each other--everywhere, but especially in bed. He knew where all my buttons were, and knew how to push them. And, yes, a few months after Christmas I let him get into my ‘luscious ass’ as he puts it. It hurt a bit at first. And then it didn’t hurt. Just the opposite. My oh my!

Anyhow, it was prom night. He came to get me. When I came down the stairs, he told me I took his breath away. Which I could see in his eyes anyhow, but hearing it is always nice.

And he looked mighty dapper in his tux! He was also wearing the very nice watch and gold neck chain I’d gotten him for Christmas. Yes, I did manage to go shopping! Me, I’d gotten a necklace with matching earrings from him. I was wearing them as well.

We got to the prom and found our table. The gang was there. Alex and Johanna, of course--that’s a marriage waiting to happen, no doubt in my mind about it. Cap and Angela were still together, and Angela had become more outgoing, more comfortable in her own skin. The other occupants of our table? Joe Adair and Toni Caldwell. Toni and I had become great friends--and she made friends with Angela and Johanna as well. She told me, "you guys are much more fun than all the A-list princesses." Her parents were still jerks, so every bit of fun she got helped. And Joe was just fun naturally, so he fit right in with the rest of us. He’d had a great hockey season--and I made sure he was still passing Trig--though we lost in the state semi-finals.

It was amusing to see the effect that Hockey God Joe and Princess Toni choosing to associate with the bunch of us had. The only one of us with any social standing was Johanna. The rest of us were nonentities or worse. The effect was amusing--Joe and Toni were diminished in standing. But the rest of us were somehow elevated. I couldn’t figure that one out. None of us really cared, mind you. Even Toni thought it was hilarious.

Even with all that, they were still elected Prom King and Queen!

As for my other friends--Karen and Aaron did have sex, a couple months ago. Karen talked about it in group. It threw her--threw her how much she enjoyed it. She expected kind of a mental cleansing, she hoped--she didn’t expect to have three orgasms! She was like a little kid talking about it.

We still go to Seth’s club, and that means all of us, the whole gang. His friend Terri keeps teasing us about the breeders taking over. But we’ve found some good friends there. Hey, the only person I care who they sleep with is Craig. And I’d made another friend at school, another girl with problems that sought me out, a girl named Elizabeth. We brought her to the club--because the problem was that she was gay. She met someone at the club. And coming out to her parents went much better than she’d thought it would.

Seth had gone out a few times with that guy he was making eyes at the first time we went, but it didn’t last. He’d had a few other boyfriends, but had just recently started dating another guy that he thought might last.

Zoe? Zoe was all right. Shortly after Sam died, she went on what she called one of her ‘fuck-o-ramas.’ In other words, going to bed with anyone that asked. She even went to the club with us and picked up a girl so she could investigate that ten percent curious thing. Her verdict? "Fun, but not a guy." So she went back to sleeping with tons of guys. I’ll admit, I was a bit worried.

But it didn’t last. A few months ago, she abruptly asked out a guy in her class, a guy who was a bit like Sam. Not quite as shy, but very smart and a bit of an outcast. She shocked him so much he accepted! So, it’s only been a few months, but things seem to be going well.

I still go to group every week. The one-on-one sessions have gone biweekly. All of that will probably end soon, though I can call Shannon any time, she’s made sure I know.

So, I’m OK. Better than OK. I have a good group of friends, parents that are trying harder, and Craig.

Look, it’s all day-to-day. I know that. Craig and I could break up tomorrow. I don’t think that’s going to happen, not for a second, but it could. College is looming. We both want to go to Michigan--both of his parents graduated from there, so he’s got the same Wolverine family tie I do with my Dad. We both like the place a lot. That would make things easier. But things can change.

The important part is, I feel better. I guess I feel like I’ve stopped beating my head against a brick wall. I have love, and I have hope, and that just might be enough.

--fin---