This is a work of fiction. This never happened. This is not biography. Well, a little of it sort of 
happened in a roundabout way. But most of it is fiction, especially the ending. 

However, deep inside the heart, soul, and essence of Alexandra lurks the essence of a girl I once 
knew, a long time ago. This is for her.  



ALEXANDRA
By Frank Downey
Fab4fan99@prodigy.net

--One--

"BRAT!"

"TOAD!"

Well, don't all 8-year-old boys think all six-year old girls are brats? And don't 6-year-old girls 
think 8-year-old boys are toads? Well, most of them, anyway. That's my experience.

And those were our respective ages when Alexandra's family moved in next door to mine. I was 8, 
she was 6. However, I don't remember ever calling her a brat. And I don't remember her calling 
me a toad. That was her twin sister Cheryl, who still is a brat and probably still considers me a 
toad.

Alex was different. There were four girls in that family, and they all competed for attention. Alex 
and Cheryl were the oldest, followed by Andrea, who was 4 that first summer, and Jennifer, who 
was 3. I always felt bad for their Dad, Mr. Callaghan, the poor guy was outnumbered.

Alexandra and Cheryl were fraternal twins. If you didn't get that just by looking at them, you'd 
figure it out after spending seven seconds with them. Cheryl was the boisterous one. The younger 
ones seemed to take Cheryl as a role model. Like I said-competing for attention. Alex didn't do 
that. She went and sat in the corner. So, it was probably no surprise that I-the most introspective 
male 8-year-old you ever met-noticed Alex first.

I don't remember all that much about the first couple of years I knew them, but I have a vivid 
memory of a few years later. I was 11, Alex was 9. The neighborhood crew I ran with was in their 
backyard, and we were playing tag, or something. Something loud, with Cheryl organizing and 
yelling and pontificating, as usual. And I remember Alex, sitting by herself in the corner, reading. 
The rest of the crew badgered her, telling her that she should play with us, but she refused. I 
admired her for it. Me? Oh, I was playing tag. An eleven-year-old boy, who'd rather read in the 
corner than get dirty? Well, yeah, actually, I was. But that day, I played.

The next time I saw her in the corner of the yard, reading, I grabbed my latest and went to join her. 
The crew happened upon us shortly thereafter, organizing a game of something. I turned them 
down. And you can bet I got a boatload of shit for it. I also got a sweet little smile from Alex. That 
offset the razzing, and then some.

I also remember, about a year later, getting my first kiss from her. It was in a game of Truth or 
Dare, where Alex had the dare, and Cheryl-of course-dared her to kiss me. She blushed, but she 
did it. It was warm, and sweet, and soft, and made me all tingly. But that was it.

--Two-

Alex and I were always friends, of a certain sort. We weren't go-out-and-do-something friends. 
We were, if you're on your porch I'll come chat with you friends. We still occasionally read 
together. That sort of thing.

I suppose it started to change a little the summer before my junior year in high school, which was 
the summer before Alexandra's freshman year. I went to a private high school, but she was going 
to attend the local public one. I turned 16 that summer, just after Alex turned 14. We both had 
summer jobs. And, it seemed that our schedules somehow coincided a lot, as we used to arrive 
home at the same time quite a bit. 

It just seemed natural to settle on one or the other's front porch for a chat. The chats got longer, 
and longer. We'd sit there for hours, just talking. We'd talk about our jobs. I'd talk about high 
school. She'd talk about being worried about high school, mainly because of Cheryl, who was 
blonde and was well on her way to being a candidate for a Playboy centerfold, and who flirted 
with anything in pants. Alex was described by most people as "cute". She was introverted. Under 
the glaring light of Cheryl, she could feel like a gnat. I think I was the first person she discussed 
this with. It worried her.

I know I was the first person she ever showed her short stories to. And she was the first person that 
I shared my poems and songs with. And, I made her laugh. Alex *never* laughed. Smile, sure. 
Chuckle, giggle, yeah. But not *laugh*. I was doing an impression of a customer that had been in 
the store I worked in, and she started howling. Great big belly laughs. I found, over the summer, 
that I made her laugh quite a bit. Nobody else could. It was nice to be able to do that.

When school started, our nighttime chats became less frequent. That was by necessity. My 
workload was brutal, hers only slightly less so. But, we still made sure to hook up a couple times a 
week for a talk. Her worst fears about Hurricane Cheryl were coming true-she was often left in 
her wake. I tried to reassure her. 

It helped that she got asked out on a couple of dates. She had a few short-lived boyfriends that 
year. I had a girl that I dated most of the fall and into the winter. And we'd talk about that, too. 
That was actually rather humorous. These relationships were typical high-school stuff-rocky as a 
dinghy in an ocean storm. I'd complain about Marie, and Alex would say, "I'd never do that to 
you." She'd complain about one of hers, and I'd say, "What a jerk. Doesn't he know how to treat a 
girl like you?" I suppose, if we had been older, we could have read the signs better. But we didn't.


-----Three------

Anyhow, by the time winter turned to spring, both of us were, again, unattached. And complaining 
to one another about it. However, I had a bigger problem. There, looming in the not-distant-
enough distance like a great big anxiety attack, was one of the prime milestones  (or millstones) of 
a High School Junior's existence: The Prom. And I *had* to go. Tiger and Bill would never let me 
forget it if I didn't.

Tiger and Bill? They were my best friends, almost from the very start of freshman year. The three 
of us were tighter than an overtuned guitar string. The Three Musketeers. The Three Stooges. 
Huey, Duey, and Louie. Kirk, Spock, and McCoy. The Beatles, minus Ringo. That was us.

And they were going to the prom, and would take it as a personal affront if I were not there with 
them. After all, what are Moe and Larry without Curly? The Beatles could live without Ringo, but 
John? I tried to point out to them that if they included their dates they could be all *four* Beatles, 
but that didn't wash. It was The Event of The Year. The Third of Three was expected to be there.

Easy for them to say. They had dates. They had girlfriends, actually. I had nothing, and time was 
a-gettin' on. And no *way* was I going stag. Then Tiger made the suggestion: "Hey, you don't 
need to be in love to go to the prom. Why don't you ask one of the neighborhood girls you run 
with? You know, just as friends."

It was a capital idea. Now, I knew who Tiger had in mind-a couple of the girls from up the street 
that I ran with. He knew them. And, yes, one or two of them would be glad to go, as long as I did 
the whole "just as friends" preamble. One, in particular, I knew would go and that I would have a 
good time with.

But I didn't ask her, because Tiger's innocent suggestion had made me think of something 
completely different. I didn't ask any of the girls up the street. I asked Alexandra.

And there was no preamble. No qualifications. I just asked her, "Alex, would you go to my prom 
with me?" And she said, "Yes." And smiled.

It's funny-walking back to my house, I wasn't filled with relief that I had finally gotten a date for 
the prom and Bill and Tiger would get off my back. All I could think of was-how the hell did I 
not notice before this how pretty she is when she smiles?

--Four---

The prom was just fine, fine, fine. The six of us did the whole limo bit. I went over to get Alex 
before the limo showed up, and, when she walked out of the house, she took my breath away. The 
shoulder-length ringlets of dark brown curls she had had since she was six were piled up on her 
head. Her lightly applied makeup-which she *never* wore-accented the twinkle in her 
chocolate brown eyes. Her eyes. HER EYES! I had known her since she was SIX how on EARTH 
had I never noticed her eyes before? The lavender dress was fairly low-cut. Since when did Alex 
have cleavage? She was very petite-always had been-but she filled out her dress just fine, thank 
you very much. And then that smile again. Did the little girl next door, my pal, my chat buddy, 
change overnight? Or had I finally woken up?

All four parental units took copious amounts of pictures. I was glad, glad, glad. I wanted copies. I 
was going to carry a few around with me, and the next jerk that called Cheryl "the pretty twin" and 
Alex "the smart twin" was gonna get an eyeful of THIS. Not that I'd blame them for not noticing. 
It had only taken me nine years, right?

We piled in the limo. There with Tiger and Bill and their dates, Alex's innate shyness asserted 
itself. Luckily, not for long. I had warned the guys that she might go into a shell at first. Hey, 
they're good guys. They're my best friends. They and their dates helped me draw her out. I 
performed my special magic trick-I made her laugh-and she found a second person that could 
make her laugh-Tiger. Tiger can make a fencepost bark like a seal. Both of their dates were 
sweet, and much bonding commenced. By the time we arrived at the prom, Alex had discarded her 
shell for the duration and the Three Amigos (plus female accompaniment) were ready for a Time.

And a Time we did have. We ate. We danced. Tiger and I made Alex laugh until she cried. We 
badgered the DJ to play Born to Run so Bill and I could sing it Really Really Loud while making 
an effort to look like we were trying to dance. This made Alex laugh, too. Then we danced some 
more.

There was, of course, an after-prom party. We had the limo until the wee hours, so what did we 
care? I accepted a beer (a very rare event.) Alex accepted a wine cooler (an unheard of event-in 
fact, it was her first.) We didn't drink enough to get drunk, but we got happy. Somehow-I don't 
even remember how-we ended up on a couch with my arm around her and her head snuggling 
into my chest. It just seemed the natural thing to do when I put my hand under her chin, tilted it 
upward, and leaned down to kiss her. It seemed just as natural when I did it again, a few minutes 
later. And again. And it seemed just as natural, when I took her home, standing on her porch, to 
wrap my arms around her-as she wrapped hers around me-and *really* kiss her.


--Five-

So, that's where It All Started, right? Well, not exactly. For a while, it seemed like we were both 
scared that what had happened that night was due to Prom Pixie Dust and couldn't be recreated in 
the real world, or something like that.

But *something* had definitely happened. Not only did our porchside chats increase in 
frequency-and length-now, it seemed like we were always doing something together. If I was 
going to the store, it seemed natural to go over and ask her if she wanted to go. If she was going to 
the ice cream stand, it was natural to ask me. If I wanted to go for a drive, I grabbed her. Movies? 
Shopping? We'd always see if the other wanted to go. And, it was natural that, when I scored two 
very coveted tickets to see Bruce Springsteen in concert, I asked her to go with me.

It was Springsteen that did it. First of all, there was absolutely no logical reason why I should have 
asked Alex to go with me. I had plenty of BossManiac friends that would have cut off an arm for 
that ticket-I don't think Bill has forgiven me yet-and I decide to ask Alex, who had only the 
slightest inkling who Bruce Springsteen even was. Her musical tastes ran to Irish folk music, and 
classical. I told myself that I was doing it to initiate the unaware. That, although it might be fun to 
attend with someone else who knew all the words to Darkness on the Edge of Town and wasn't 
shy about singing along, it would be more fun to suck an unwary nonbeliever into the Church of 
Bruce. While there was a kernel of truth in that, it wasn't the real reason. And it certainly wasn't 
the reason she eagerly agreed to go. 

Somehow, it had happened that, if I was going somewhere, I wanted her along-and she wanted to 
go with me. And, if she were going somewhere, she wanted me along-and I wanted to go with 
her. The destination was almost unimportant. And this little fact of life had snuck up on us so 
gradually that neither of us had even realized it yet.

Anyhow, there we were, seeing "BROOOOOOOOOCE SPRINGTEEEEN...AND  THE E! 
STREET! BAAAAAAANNNND!!!!!!" on their tour in 1980, supporting The River album (still 
my favorite.) It was stupendous. It was mind-boggling. It was The Greatest Show On Earth. I 
knew all the words. I sang along. I shouted myself hoarse. Alex? She started the night with a "So 
what's this Bruce thing all about, anyway?" look on her face. By the time they did "Rosalita" she 
was standing on a chair. Yelling a lot. I knew the words, she didn't, so when they did "Thunder 
Road", I made sure I sang the "Show a little faith, there's magic in the night" line right at her. 
Because it was true. And I was rewarded with That Smile. Times ten.

She babbled the whole ride home about how great it was. Another convert for BossMania. I 
walked her to her porch, and, instead of running in the door, she grabbed me. And kissed me, long 
and deep. I was breathless-and I know she was, too.

Bruce Pixie Dust? I hoped not. This time I was going to test the theory. Well, first, I had to make 
sure the convert was taken care of, so I went out the next day, headed to the record store, and 
bought Alex a complete collection of Bruce. I presented them to her, she squealed delightedly, 
kissed me again-and slammed the door in my face. And sheepishly opened it a second later, 
inviting me in to listen with her. I laughed, let her go explore the Majesty of Bruce by herself, and 
told her I'd see her later.

It was that night, on my porch, one of our chat sessions. Except there wasn't much chatting. I 
pulled her close, and kissed her. And kept kissing her. We broke the kiss, and I could feel her 
breath on my cheek. She reached down and planted little kisses on my neck. I entwined my fingers 
in her curls. She rubbed my back. Then she looked in my eyes again, and I kissed her again.

I think that one lasted about three weeks.

When we finally broke the kiss, and caught our breath, Alex leaned over and whispered in my ear, 
"My God, I've never been kissed like that in my life."

I just laughed. Then, she grabbed my face in her hands, looked into my eyes, and said, "So, are 
you going to do it again, or do I have to beg?" I didn't waste any time.

We necked for a while. It was glorious. Then she had to go inside.

---Six--------

The next afternoon, Alex came and knocked on the door. I opened it for her, and she walked right 
past me into the kitchen, grabbed my car keys off the table, handed them to me, and said, "Let's 
go for a ride."

We drove for a bit, and then she said, "Just exactly what happened last night?"

"Well, you *were* there. And it seemed to me that you were a willing participant."

She giggled. "Very willing. But, what I meant was, is something happening between us?"

"That's a question, isn't it? Well, from my end there is."

"FINALLY!" She yelled. 

"Huh?"

"Well, I was thinking about it, and I realized something. I think I've only admitted it to myself 
recently, but...I've been in love with you since that Truth or Dare game."

I think I just about drove off the road. I managed to control myself, and pulled into the first 
parking lot I could find. I found an out-of-the-way spot, turned to her, and said, "You *are* 
kidding."

"Oh, it just dawned on me recently. But, think about it. You're tne only guy I know who's like me. 
You're sweet, you're kind. You make me laugh. When I'm with you, I'm happy. You make me 
feel whole. And I couldn't really define it until now, but I've known it since I was ten. And, I 
think I've been waiting for you to do what you did last night for a very long time."

"Oh, man."

"Don't worry, Chris, you're timing's perfect. I probably would have run screaming out of sheer 
terror if you had done that any earlier, no matter how much I wanted you to."

I laughed. "Well, I'm slow on the uptake. It took me until the first time I made you laugh."

"That long ago? Why didn't you say something?"

"Why didn't YOU say something?"

We looked at each other. And cracked up laughing. "We're quite a pair, aren't we?" I said.

"Yup. See-we even get terrified together, without even knowing it."

I took a deep breath. "I love you, Alexandra."

"I love you, too, Christopher."

That was all that needed to be said. From that moment on, we were A Couple. It was understood.


----Seven------

Actually, considering we had been close to inseparable for some time by then, not much changed. 
Except, when we walked to the store, we held hands. When we grabbed a couch and a couple of 
books to read, we did so with her head in my lap. And we still talked-we just kissed a lot more in 
between sentences.

I suppose the proof was late that summer, when she had a penpal that she had corresponded with 
for years come to visit for the first time. She was from Ireland, and she came over for a couple 
weeks. Alex introduced me to her as "Chris, my boyfriend." That made it official.

Of course, there were a few other changes in our relationship. Alex was a Good Girl, I had known 
that from the start. Virginity was saved for the wedding night. Of course, there's a huge gulf 
between kissing and intercourse, but I was unsure how much of that gulf she was willing to 
traverse. We never talked about it. 
I was unsure when it came to that. I suspected that I was her first *real* kiss, and I knew for a fact 
that she had never been touched. To be honest, both of those statements were true of me, also. It 
was the blind leading the blind.

To this day, neither of us knows if she sent out a subtle sign that I caught, or if I just guessed right, 
but, one day, in October, we were kissing. She was sitting indian-style on the couch, facing me, 
and I was twisted, half facing her, and our lips were locked. I had my hand resting lightly on her 
stomach, and I just slid it up. I half-expected her to remove it. She didn't. She sighed, and pressed 
her torso forward, as if to increase the pressure my hand was putting on her breast. So I did it for 
her-pressing against her breast through her shirt and bra. She practically stuck her tongue down 
my throat, and then she broke the kiss, concentrating on what I was doing to her breasts. She 
leaned back, so I could get my other hand up there. She sighed contentedly and gave me a smile, 
different than her usual one-but just as good.

After I was done, she looked up at me with those shining eyes, and said, "Oh, goody. Another way 
to make me feel good. You just keep coming up with those, sweetie."

From there, things progressed rapidly. The next night, out parking, I had her shirt completely off. 
A couple nights after that, she shocked me by reaching for my belt buckle, while I had 
contemplated trying to get in *her* pants. There had been a limit she had set, but, beyond that, she 
was willing to try anything..

As I quickly found out, when she engulfed my member in her mouth. I was shocked. Stunned. 
And harder than I had ever been in my life. I had jerked off, of course. What teenaged boy 
doesn't? But, that was nothing like *this*. She was inexperience, unpracticed, and I had to hiss 
`Watch the teeth!' once. But it didn't matter. It was fantastic. She was fantastic. After a couple of 
false starts, she was bobbing her head up and down like someone who had actually done this 
before.  I felt my climax building, warned her, she ignored me, and I came-in a torrent-right 
into her mouth. I was more shocked and more stunned.

She climbed up next to me in the back of my station wagon, a little satisfied smile on her face. 
"Well, that's a bit of a different taste. I think I like it, though."

I stared at her. "Alex, you amaze me."

"What, you think us shy, demure virgin types don't get horny?" she laughed.

"Oh, I get it. You just did that to me so I'd return the favor," I teased her.

She blushed. "Oh, no, Chris..I didn't mean.no, I've always wanted to do that for you.no, I 
didn't expect..."

"Relax," I interrupted. "Do you think I have even the slightest problem with returning the favor? 
Lie back."

I pulled off her pants and panties, and got my first ever look of a girl's pussy. I worshiped it. I 
worshiped her. And then, I worshiped her, and it, with my tongue. I'm a pussy addict. My favorite 
participatory sport is cunnilingus. And it all started that night.

I found her clit and massaged it. I ran my tongue up and down her pussy. Her heavy breathing got 
ragged, and then turned into little squeals. Then she came, bouncing up and down so hard she 
almost broke my nose. Not that I would have minded-or noticed, for that matter.

"Nnnnnnnngggggggggggg..." was the first thing that came out of her mouth after she recovered 
the ability to breathe. Her eyes fluttered open, and she saw me there, grinning at her. 

"Y'know," she said. "I've had orgasms before. Playing with myself. But never, ever, ever like 
THAT."

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing a couple minutes ago."

That opened the floodgates. We became the First Couple of Oral Sex and Mutual Masturbation. 
The barrier was still down on the other thing, but who *cared*? And there were chips in that 
barrier. "I'm waiting until I'm married" gradually became "I'm waiting until I'm ready." So, ready 
could mean tomorrow, it could mean three years from now. As long as I got to worship that 
beautiful pussy of hers, I could wait until the earth spun off its axis, for all I cared. And she knew 
that. The sex was great because it was based on trust. You don't have sex with someone two to 
three times a week and not ever have actual intercourse unless you trust that person completely. 
She knew I respected that barrier, and would never attempt to tear it down.

It wasn't all sex, it's just that the sex was new. You don't start a relationship with someone you've 
been friends with for nine years and have it just based on sex-it's impossible. I knew Alex, inside 
and out, and she knew me. We studied together. We went for walks, or drives. We tried to go out 
to eat at least once a week. We still read together, her lying on the couch, head on my lap. It was, 
looking back now on it, idyllic. I spent a lot of my senior year in high school with Alex.

Of course, there was a looming problem.

College.

--eight-

I had started looking at colleges the previous year. I thought I might want to get away. We lived in 
the northeast, and there was a school in the Midwest that I took a liking to. This school was my 
first choice before Junior year ever ended. By the time it came time to actually apply to colleges, 
my life had changed.
Alex, of course, wasn't going anywhere. She still had two years of high school left to go.

She encouraged me. My reasons for getting away were valid, and she thought it would be a good 
thing. I applied to some local schools, and got into them, but also got into the one in the Midwest. 
Alex told me, "If it's meant to be, then it's meant to be. I fully plan on being here waiting for you 
when you get back." So, I decided to go.

But that was six months away, and now was all about Alex. We had a wonderful first Christmas. I 
flooded her room with flowers on Valentine's Day. She baked soda bread and made Irish stew and 
took me to a step dancing festival for St Patrick's day. We studied, listening to Springsteen. We 
fooled around in the back of my station wagon. We'd leave silly notes in each other's mailbox. 
She told me her dreams, and I told her mine, and we found out that we were each in the other's.

And, of course, there was another Prom. The Biggie, the Senior prom. There was no scrambling 
for a date this year. Tiger and Bill still had the same girlfriends, so it was the same cast of 
characters, The Three plus Three. And, instead of ending with a first soul-kiss on a front porch, it 
ended up with me waking up next to Alex in a hotel room we had rented. We had fallen asleep 
after a wonderful couple hours of Everything But. That's right, I slept with her without *sleeping* 
with her. Waking up next to her, seeing her beauty in the morning light, was worth the price of 
admission.

It was a wonderful summer after that. Knowing that I was going away in the fall, we spent as 
much time as possible together that summer. My Dad made a joke about wondering if we went to 
the bathroom together.

The week before I left, she offered "it" to me. But it was halfhearted.

"Y'know," she said, "I've been thinking about letting you have my virginity before you leave."

"Do you want to?"

"Part of me does. Really bad, as a matter of fact." 

"I can understand that. But I'm not taking it until *all* of you wants to."

She sat for a minute, then just looked up at me and said, "I love you. When I do give it away, it's 
yours. I promise. And I don't think you'll have to wait too much longer."

A week later, I was a thousand miles away.

-----nine-----

I liked school. I liked being away from home. I made a lot of new friends. I enjoyed seeing another 
part of the country. It was cool.

But I missed Alex.

I met Karen. We became fast friends. When I got to know her I found out that she was.unusual. 
She was practically a nympho, with a special fetish for taking guys' virginity. She found out I was 
cherry, and put the full court press on. I told her, "sorry, I'm saving that for Alex." She teased me 
mercilessly, and then told me that it was the sweetest most romantic thing she had ever heard-
and then went back to teasing me mercilessly about it. I didn't mind. We were good friends. She 
really did respect my decision-despite the teasing-and she was a great kid, lots of fun to be 
with. I arranged to have her pluck my roommate, who was very nice to me for a week afterwards.

And, I wrote a lot of letters. I pretty much kept a diary of my life the first half of that first 
semester, but I didn't put in in a notebook. I put it in an envelope and mailed it to Alex. She did 
the same. I ran to the mailbox every day. I know she did, too. We talked on the phone once a 
week, on Sunday night. It usually spilled over into the wee hours of Monday morning.

The letters got a little less frequent around the end of October. I didn't mind, really. Writing the 
kinds of letters we were writing was time consuming, and we had work to do. The tone of the 
letters never changed. Our phone conversations never changed. 

Until Thanksgiving Day. I couldn't come home for Thanksgiving-not enough money, not 
enough time. I called her on the day, and got her right in the middle of the meal. Normally, that 
wouldn't have been much of a problem. However, she sounded distracted-and I could hear 
Cheryl yelling in the background, "Did you tell him yet? Did you tell him?" I asked what that was 
all about, and she made something up. She cut the call off in record time, promising to call me 
back later. She never did.

Three days later, I got The Letter.

There was another guy. She had met him through Cheryl. Now, you have to understand about 
Cheryl. Cheryl changed boyfriends like most people changed socks. She also gave most of them 
what they were most interested in. And she hated the whole Chris-and-Alex thing. She constantly 
badgered her sister about "throwing her youth away" tied down in a serious relationship-now, a 
long-distance serious relationship. I also believe she was jealous. I know for a fact that she was a 
shrew. She'd like nothing better than to break Alex and I up. With me a thousand miles away, she 
saw her opportunity. 

So, Alex had been dating this guy for about a month. Now, we had no problem with that. I pretty 
much "dated" Karen at school. We went out all the time.  Neither Alex nor I expected the other to 
spend our time apart walled up like hermits. I had no problem with her dating.

I had a big problem with her surrendering her virginity to someone that wasn't me. 

She was lonely, and horny, so she let him get a little physical. Then she let him get a lot physical. 
Then he was over her, insistent, begging, and she was saying "no, no, no" and all of a sudden she 
found herself saying "yes".

Oh, she was pushed. No doubt about it. Do you think I couldn't have pushed her? After all our 
times of mutual gratification, don't you think that barrier of hers was paper-thin? It was. It would 
have only taken the slightest push on my part, and it would have crumbled. I had known that for 
close to a year. I swore to myself I would never do that.

And now, someone else had.

She had surrendered her virginity. And mine was still ingloriously intact.

The rest of the letter trailed off into tear stains, half scribbled apologies, pleas for forgiveness, etc, 
etc. When I read the letter some time later, I realized that she never did say that she wanted to 
break up. She also hinted that this guy had been pushed right out of the picture shortly after the 
Event. But, I didn't pick up that subtext right away, that first time I read it. I took it as a breakup. 
And a horrible, agonizing betrayal.

I reacted maturely, calmly, completely in control of my emotions. Right? Who am I kidding. I was 
eighteen years old. I LOST it.

Tore my half of the room apart. Screamed. Cried. Called her every nasty name I could think of, in 
every language that I knew them, and even made up a few of my own. Then I had one of my of-
age floormates buy me a bottle, and I got toasted. Then, I called Karen.

That was a no-brainer. I was betrayed. I was horny. Karen was willing. She was surprised. 
Thought I was saving myself for Alex. "Yeah, and I thought Alex was saving herself for me. I was 
wrong." I showed her the letter. Karen, bless her heart, knew this was a revenge-fuck, and still 
didn't mind. She told me she'd help me out.

It was good. She was great. The girl had talent, no doubt about it. The orgasms were fantastic. She 
knew what she was doing. But it wasn't what I had expected. It wasn't profound. The earth didn't 
move. The stars didn't realign themselves. Hey, I enjoyed myself. It was a lot of fun, Karen made 
sure of that. I was satiated, completely.

But I wasn't content. Because it wasn't Alex.

---ten---

I spent the next week in a fog. Then I got a surprising phone call.

It was from Andrea, the middle Callaghan sister. 

Andrea had started life trying to be Cheryl Two, and quickly found that that didn't completely 
work for her. She was still boisterous, fun-loving, the life of the party, but she had avoided 
becoming a manipulative contemptible bitch. She was a good kid. She and Alex never quite 
understood one another, but I helped, because I loved Alex and was inordinately fond of Andrea. I 
considered her the kid sister I didn't have, and she felt the same way. And, despite their wildly 
different personalities, there *was* a bond, a strong one, between Andrea and Alex.

Which is why Andrea called me. She was worried about her sister. She had managed to drag the 
whole story out of Alex.

"Chris, it's Andi. Look, you've got to *do* something!"

"What do you want me to do, kid?"

"I don't know, but *something*. Alex can't eat. She can't sleep. Cheryl is walking around here 
like the cat that ate the fucking canary, and I want to shove my fist down her throat. And Alex is a 
walking pile of depression. She reads your letters and cries. She looks at your picture and cries. 
My parents, as usual, are oblivious. But, Chris, right now she *hates* herself. How can you keep 
getting up in the morning if you hate yourself?"

"Andi, you know what happened?"

"Yeah. And I know you must have been devastated. But, dammit, Chris, she is too. I know she did 
this. I know it was her fault. I also know if there was any way to take it back, she would. I also 
know she still loves you. And I know *damn* well that you still love her."

"Yeah, I do." I took a deep breath. "Look, Andi, I need a sign from her. Something. Doesn't have 
to be big. But I need something. I need her to take the first step, even if it's a baby one."

"I'll work on it."

It took a week for Andi to bolster Alex's courage, but a week later, there was a card in my box. It 
was a small one, which said "Thinking of You" on the outside. Inside, she had written,

My dearest Christopher,

Words can not say how sorry I am.
I can only hope that someday you can forgive me
Please don't hate me, because I love you,
And I always will.

Alex

I read it, and read it, and reread it again. I think I hugged it a little bit. Then, I composed my reply. 
Since I was flying home in a week for Christmas break, I kept mine short and simple. I just didn't 
want to leave her hanging until I returned. I bought a small card, and wrote,

Alexandra, my love,

If love exists,
All things are possible.
Does love still exist?
It does here.

See you in a week.

Chris

---eleven----

I got off the plane, and looked for my parents. They knew the flight, the time, all that, and were 
coming to pick me up. Or so I thought. Unbeknownst to me, Alex had gotten her driver's license 
two weeks before. Also unbeknownst to me, she had convinced my mom to perform a Switcheroo.

I spotted her first, and my heart skipped a beat. I think I thought she was an illusion at first, since I 
wasn't expecting her to be here. She was looking in the other direction, and didn't see me coming. 
I think I ran. I dropped my carry-ons, picked her up, swung her around, and held on for dear life. 
As a reward, I got The Smile, and then I got a hot, heavy, weak-in-the-knees soul kiss in the 
middle of thousands of people in a busy airport. 

We talked on the way home. Then-since it was too cold on the porch-we went to my room at 
home and talked some more. I forgave her before she asked me to. I told her about Karen, and she 
said she understood. She cried, I cried, we held each other, and we kissed a lot. 

I had made an appointment with one of the local colleges to inquire about transferring. It looked 
like it would be completely doable. Alex was a little upset, because she was afraid that I was 
transferring home because I didn't trust her any more. 

"Not at all," I told her. "It's got nothing to do with trust. It's got everything to do with love. I just 
can't bear to be that far away from you anymore." That, she wholeheartedly agreed with.

Christmas Eve, Tiger and Bill came over. Their previous girlfriends had been high school flings, 
so they showed up with their new college girlfriends. I was still with Alex. Thank God. The girls 
were very sweet, there was more bonding, and we ended up drinking too much eggnog and going 
out around my neighborhood singing Christmas Carols. We weren't that bad. Heck, if we had 
been sober, we might have even remembered all the words. People threw money-or tomatoes-
and the proverbial Good Time Was Had By All. Alex and I exchanged gifts at midnight.

And, for New Year's weekend, my parents went away.

Alex came over on New Year's Eve. I made spaghetti with marinara sauce-Mom's recipe always 
works-and we broke into my parents' wine stash. We ate, we drank, we talked. And then I took 
her upstairs.

It started like it always had. I took her shirt off, and played with her sensitive breasts. She was 
fairly small, but that was OK, because I had found I could fit almost a whole breast in my mouth 
and still tease the nipple with my tongue, a little maneuver that drove Alex wild. 

Then, I moved down. Boy, had I missed worshiping her this way. She was soaked. It was 
heavenly. I curled my tongue into a little funnel and probed her entrance. I brought my tongue up 
and down her pussy lips and flicked it at her clit. Then I settled in on her clit, and started moving a 
finger in and out of  her hole. She went wild-even for her-thrusting her hips at my finger and 
face. She gasped. She moaned. She gripped the sheets, then gripped my head, practically tearing a 
couple clumps of hair out. Did I mind? Are you kidding? It was fantastic. She had never been all 
that verbal, but, when she came, I got a very satisfying "oooooOOOOOOOOOOYYEEEEEE!" 
from her.

I crawled up beside her, and she pulled me into her. "Chris, I want you to make love to me. I need 
you to. I need you to make the hurt go away. I need you to make it all better. I need you. I need 
you in me, I need it so bad.."

"Sweetheart, you don't have to beg."

She smiled at that, but kept it up as I adjusted myself, murmuring, "..need you.I need my love 
inside me..need it so bad..oh I need it..."

She got it. It took some effort. She was tight. It was worth the effort. I finally got myself buried to 
the hilt, and rested for a minute. She looked up at me, and gave me That Smile. Times a million.

I gathered her up to me, and started moving, in and out. This was so intense, and it was my second 
time, and I had no illusions about how long it would take. Not very.

Alex lowered her face to my neck, kissing it lightly, as I gently thrust in and out of her. Then she 
moved her lips up to my ear, and whispered. "Oh, my love, I waited so long for this. This feels so 
right.oh, I needed you so bad..I could do this forever." 

I chuckled and whispered back. "Unfortunately, *I* can't."

She giggled, and said, "It's OK. I don't mind. I already had one. It's your turn." Her breath was 
getting more and more ragged. "It's OK, Chris. Cum inside me. I want you to. Cum for me, 
Chris." By this time, her words were punctuated by gasps, and I knew she was getting close, but I 
just couldn't hold out. I did what she told me to do. I came, spectacularly, up inside her.

As I lie on top of her, still buried in her, I realized something. I was still hard.

She realized it, too. "Hmmm," she giggled, "seems to me like somebody's not done yet."

"Alex, you're a miracle worker," I said. She giggled again. "Let's try something." Without 
disengaging, I put my arms around her back, and rolled us over. 

"Hmm. This is interesting," she mused. She adjusted her legs and arms to get some leverage. She 
ended up sitting up straight, hands on my stomach for leverage. Then she started moving herself 
up and down on my member. "Oooooooh, I think I *like* this!"

I put my hands on her hips to steady her. "I think I like this myself."

"Ummmm...oohhhh...That's cause I'm doing all the work..."

"No, that's not it at all. It's because I get to watch you."

I wasn't kidding. She had her ringlets of hair pulled back off of her face with a bow, but a few had 
escaped, and curly strands framed her face and snaked down her neck. Her face was flushed. Her 
eyes were closed. At one point, she bit her lower lip, showing me the small gap between her two 
top front teeth, a feature that I had always found endearing. Her chest heaved from exertion and 
excitement. She started murmuring something. I couldn't hear at first. Then it got a little louder; 
"oh God it's so good it's so good it's so good oh God oh God.."

I could tell she was close, so I strengthened my upward thrusts in time with her downward ones. 
She groaned, and then dropped her arms by her sides. I increased my leverage on her hips as she 
approached her climax, and she lost control and flopped around. When it hit, she fell forward and 
lied on my chest for it, moaning and writhing on me as her pussy spasmed around my cock. I 
wrapped my arms around her. It was fantastic. She was in no condition to do much of anything 
after that, so I flipped her over and finished myself off, enhanced by her dreamily whispering "I 
love you..I love you..,"in my ear the whole time.

--twelve-

We were cuddling after that, my arms wrapped around her, when I felt her shiver. I gradually 
realized she was shaking. Her whole body was convulsing. Then, I realized why-she was crying 
into my chest.

"Alex?"

"Oh, Chris, I'm so ashamed."

"What, about this? You are kidding, right?"

"No, not about this." Her voice got quieter. "This should have been my first time. You should 
have been my first. "

"And you should have been mine. There's no use crying over spilled milk."

"Yeah, but at least yours was fun. Mine was a disaster."

She had never talked about it. We talked about *us*, but not him, or that. I sensed she needed to, 
so I let her. "It really was a disaster, you know. I had let my hormones get the best of me. When he 
touched me, I got so horny, because it had been so long, and I was ready by then. You were going 
to get it when you came home; I had already decided that. But he touched me, and I 
needed.*something*..and I think I let him go all the way because by that point I desperately 
needed to get off and nothing else he was doing was making it happen, because he had no clue. 
And even doing *that* didn't get me off. He was horrible. And I felt like dirt the whole time, 
wishing I was with you. I even tried to fantasize I was with you, but I couldn't, because every inch 
of my body knew that I *wasn't*. I regretted doing it before I even started, but I couldn't stop 
myself. And Cheryl made it worse. She gloated. She spent a week saying to me `little Miss perfect 
finally gives up her precious virginity, and it's not to her own boyfriend!" And worse." She 
sighed. "Then, I'm here with *you*, our first time, and it's everything I could have dreamed about 
plus more. It was fantastic. I haven't come down to earth yet." She looked at me. "I made you wait 
forever. Now I wonder why I made you wait. Especially when it turns out that *I* couldn't."

"First of all, it was worth the wait. Second of all, I really don't care anymore that I wasn't your 
first. I am kinda hoping, however, that I will be your last."

I must have said the right thing, because the version of That Smile I was treated to could have lit 
up four star systems.

"Alex," I told her, "I know you as well as you know yourself. I've known all along that beneath 
that calm exterior lies raging passions. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I'm just glad you're 
bringing those passions into *my* bed."

"And, my dearest Alex, before I go back to school, I'm buying you a vibrator."

She was still giggling when I drifted off to sleep.

--thirteen-

I awoke the nest morning with somebody's hands wrapped around my morning Woody and 
someone sitting on my legs. I fluttered my eyes open, and there was Alex, straddling me. "Hello, 
sleepyhead. Glad you woke up. You certainly wouldn't want to sleep through this, would you?"

"You don't waste any time, do you?" I asked her.

"Hey, we've had a year and a half of foreplay." She sank down on me. What a way to wake up.

Alex was confirming a discovery she had made the previous night. She liked the female superior 
position. She liked it a lot. I was not complaining. And, I made a discovery about her. Alex makes 
slow, tender, gentle love in the morning. 

She straddled me for well over an hour. She cuddled me. She kissed me, and nuzzled my neck, 
and ran her fingers through my hair. I rubbed her back, and played with her breasts. It was like 
making out, except I had my cock buried deep in her pussy. Sometimes she rocked back and forth. 
Sometimes she lifted up, and settled deliberately back down, and then did it again 30 seconds 
later. Sometimes she just let it be in her. It was unhurried, calm, gentle, altogether indescribable.

In the middle of it, I reached up and whispered in her ear, "I didn't think it was possible to be this 
close to another person."

"I woke up," she said, "and decided that I wanted to crawl inside you and wrap you all around 
me."

When we finally came, it wasn't an explosion. It was more like a cool, gentle summer rainstorm at 
twilight taking the edge off of a blazing hot day. It was something I'll never forget as long as I 
live.

We had all day, all night, and most of the next day before my parents came home, and we made up 
for a lot of lost time.

--fourteen-

We explored each other as much as possible before it was time for me to go back to school. I 
actually did buy her a vibrator, much to her amusement, and told her that she had to confess in her 
letters whenever she used it. She confessed a lot, much to my amusement. She called it The 
Substitute. She used to write, "You made me so horny over the phone that, as soon as I hung up, I 
had to use The Substitute."

The transfer was approved, so when I came home to her arms in May, it was for good. And in time 
for *her* junior prom.  My new school was 45 minutes away. Not quite next door, but close 
enough. She spent so much time there with me that she fell in love with the place, and decided to 
go there herself. Of course, the first year I was there, she was still in high school. I put a ring on 
her finger that Christmas. Her parents had a slight conniption-how many high school seniors go 
back from vacation with an engagement ring?-but we promised them a long engagement. We 
were waiting until we both got out of school, but we wanted to make the promise to one another.

I graduated school, and got a good job right away. I moved into an apartment, and Alex moved in 
with me. Two years later, she graduated.

The wedding that summer, as befits us, was a Time. Tiger was the best man, Bill was an usher, 
and Alex chose Andrea as maid of honor, which delighted me. Cheryl had thought herself entitled 
to the position, as befitting a twin,and had a snit about it, but Alex told her, "Refresh my memory. 
Which one of you tried to break us up, and which one helped us get back together?" Cheryl didn't 
even show up. She wasn't missed.

So, maybe not the first, but The Last, forever and always. And, getting another look at That Smile 
was extra special, when it was accompanied by, "I do."

--epilogue-

Alex still makes sweet, gentle, tender love in the morning.

We have three kids. Sasha is ten, Bruce (of course) is seven, and Katrina is five. Sasha has a crush 
on the boy next door, and still doesn't get why that makes her parents laugh so much.

And there was this tour, last year. Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, reunited. We each 
have our own computer, in adjoining rooms (hers in the bedroom, mine in my study) and the MP3 
bootlegs of shows from the tour were popping up days after each show. We'd play a game of 
"who can find what", yelling at each other through the doorway.

"I got Copenhagen and Berlin!"

"Oh yeah, well I got the first three Meadowlands shows!"

Did we attend a show ourselves? What, are you kidding? Fourth row seats, got off the internet, 
and though I joked about having to auction Katrina off to pay for them, it was worth every penny. 
They played all the good stuff and Alex caught one of Miami Steve's guitar picks. It was, as it 
always is, a Time.

Bruce was ending every show with a new song. It's called "Land of Hope and Dreams." We knew 
all the words, of course, from all those bootlegs. There's a couplet in there: "Dreams shall not be 
thwarted, faith will be rewarded." You got to admit, the man has a way with a lyric, because truer 
words were never spoken.

And, every time I sing those words to Alex, I get-you guessed it-That Smile.

And I never get tired of it.

---fin---



