8.

I want a basement just like Eddie’s — only maybe without the pictures from the space program and the Patton and 2001 posters. Eddie said he and his dad did it together as a way to get closer after his mom passed away. They paneled the walls with white pine and put in a drop ceiling. He’s got an old mahogany desk, a red, ‘50s-style couch with skinny wooden legs and a kidney-shaped coffee table in front of it, and a chocolate-colored rug. He can watch TV if he wants, even though it’s just an old black and white one, or study, or play games. There’s a door next to the TV that leads out to the unfinished part of the basement, where the washer and dryer are, and where Eddie’s dad keeps his tools.

It’s boring, I know. The only reason I mention it is because I got a good, long look at everything while I was tied up on the floor.

I was naked, except for all the laundry line and one sock, and I never felt so helpless in my life. It was like a TV show where a girl gets kidnapped. I begged them to let me go, but I was gagged, too, so it came out like “Puh-weee! Puh-weee! ‘Et-ee-guh! Puh-wee!“

“What’s she trying to say?” Lisa asked.

“Who knows?” Eddie said. “I say let’s ignore her.”

“You think she wants her clothes back?”

“I don’t know what for. She’s can’t go anywhere.”

“Do you want your clothes back, Sweetie?”

“‘Et-ee-guh! ‘Et-ee-guh!” That was Let me go! Let me go!

“Sorry, I can’t understand you,” Lisa said. “I don’t know what you want unless you enunciate.”

“Uh-eee! Uh-eee!” That was Please! Please!

“She’ll get tired eventually,” Eddie said. “We should get back to the math.”

Suddenly Lisa turned to him.

“Do you like this?” she asked.

“I kinda do.”

“Me too.”

“‘EE huh!” I said.

That was “me too,” too.

So before you get the idea that they’d were being mean or they’d turned on me somehow, I have to say I asked for it. Literally. I wanted them to tie me up. I got the idea when Lisa and I were fooling around at her house. Remember? I told myself that if sex felt that good she could lock me up in her basement and play with me whenever she wanted. That little stray thought was the start of it. I began to wonder, what would it be like to be a real prisoner? To be tied up so I couldn’t move, and gagged so I couldn’t talk, and I couldn’t stop anybody from doing what they wanted to me?

This was something really to be ashamed of, because I was sure no one ever thought of anything like it. I bet not even Dr. Judith I. Weisberg had ever heard of anybody wanting to be tied up. I tried to put it out of my mind — and of course, the more I tried, the worse it got. It was another dirty secret I had to carry around. And it didn’t make any difference that I hadn’t done it. Just thinking something bad was a sin. They call it committing adultery on your heart

So how did I end up hog-tied in Eddie’s basement? It’s not something you mention casually to your friends, even the two you’ve done sex stuff with.

It started when I asked Lisa if she could help me with my math, because we had finals coming up, and I still wasn’t getting it. I haven’t done better than an 85 all year. She said yes, and we made a date for Saturday afternoon. Then later, Eddie asked me if I wanted to come over and study with him on Saturday, and I said ­— like it was a big inspiration — the three of us should get together.

Eddie wasn’t crazy about the idea. Lisa wasn’t, either, when I told her about it. I’m sure both of them wanted to get me alone and feel me up at some point, and neither one knew I’d done stuff with the other. But I insisted. Eddie was easier to convince, because boys, I think, are nicer when they think they might get something off you later. Besides, he had no idea anything was going on with me and Lisa.

Lisa, on the other hand, got jealous right away.

“Do you like boys?” she asked me. She sounded like Sister Margaret.

“So what if I do?”

“I thought you liked me.”

“I do. I really do. But I need to pass this exam.”

“What can Eddie teach you that I can’t?”

“Please?”

“Then you can go to his house by yourself.”

“Come on.”

I was starting to understand what “adultery” means. It’s like fooling around with two people and trying to keep one of them from finding out about the other.

But Lisa finally gave in. Now the only hang-up was my mom. She was glad I was going to get tutoring, but she wanted to know if Eddie’s parents were going to be there.

So I had to call Eddie and ask if his parents were going to be there.

“It’s just my dad,” he said.

“So is your dad going to be there?”

“I guess so.”

“Let me talk to him,” mom said. “Hello, Eddie? Is your mother there? ... OK, your father, then.”

Mr. Szywicki got on the line and assured her it would be all right. We wouldn’t be in Eddie’s bedroom. He did his studying in the basement, and he — Mr. Szywicki — would be upstairs the whole time, or out back working on his car.

But when Lisa and I got there Saturday afternoon, Mr. Szywicki was gone. He’s a cop, and at the last minute he got called in to work an extra shift. There was some kind of emergency. Eddie wasn’t sure, but it sounded like somebody had escaped from the prison, which isn’t too far from where he lives.

So there we all were, snug as bugs down on the red couch, with Lisa on one side of me and Eddie on the other. We had our books on the coffee table, and some soda and peanut butter crackers, and I swear, I wasn’t expecting anything to happen, with three of us there, but it wasn’t long before they started fighting over me.

They were both wearing just jeans and T-shirts, but I was kind of cute in blue candy-striper skirt, a pink knit shirt, my blue Keds and bright pink socks. It was my mom’s idea. She said if Eddie and Lisa were nice enough to tutor me, I should look nice for them.

They lost me right away. They were talking about graphing an equation and isolating variables, and Eddie was going to show me how to do it, but Lisa told him to stop and let me figure it out for myself. I pretended I was reading the textbook. Nervously, I kicked my sneaks off, like somehow being able to wiggle my toes that made it easier to think.

“It’s easy,” Eddie said. “Just break it down into little pieces.”

“Nuh uh. I dunno.” I was actually whimpering. Eddie put his arm around my shoulder. Lisa noticed and pushed him away, but then she put her hand on my bare knee.

“Just look at it,” she said. “How would you isolate the y?“

And while I was figuring it out, Eddie slipped his hand under my hair, so it rested on my neck, and Lisa couldn’t see.

“Move the x over?”

“Right!” Eddie said, and he brushed my neck with his fingers. That, with Lisa’s hand on my thigh, gave me that queer feeling between my legs. In my mind I had a flash of Lisa putting her mouth on me, and then Eddie filling me up. The thoughts gave me a sudden throb down there.

“OK,” Lisa said. “So how would you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Move x over. You’re not paying attention.”

She moved her hand up my leg, and Eddie ran his finger down my spine. That gave me a shiver all over, and Lisa felt the goosebumps all the way down on my thigh.

She rubbed me a little faster to warm me up, but I managed to say—

“Subtract x?”

“But if you do it to one side, you have to do it to the other,” Eddie said.

“Don’t help her!” Lisa said. Every time one of them said something, they touched me more.

“OK,” Eddie went on. “So if you subtract x from each side, what does y equal?”

He rubbed the middle of my back. It was nice, but I knew what he was doing: He was feeling for my bra strap ­— which he didn’t find, because I wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Uh,” I said.

“Take your time,” Lisa said. “Use the pencil.”

Stroke, pat. Neck, thigh. I was highly distracted, and I broke the point on my pencil.

“Darn it!”

“Use this one,” Lisa said, giving me hers. “Talk it though.”

“Y ... equals ... two x minus three.”

“Yes!” Lisa said.

“By George, she’s got it!” Eddie said.

He threw his arm around my shoulder again and pulled me to him, kissing me on the head. Lisa didn’t like that. She reached across and grabbed my other shoulder, pulling me in the opposite direction, so I cuddled against her. She kissed me, too, and she put both her arms around me and held me tight. Now it was Eddie’s turn to touch my thigh. His hand went up under my skirt, and I twisted around, stretching my legs across his lap and pushing into Lisa. Eddie slid his hand all the way up my leg. When Lisa saw that, she grabbed my chin, swiveled my head around and kissed me on the lips.

“Hey, it wasn’t all that impressive,” Eddie said. “She’s still not done. She needs to put in the ... the...”

He watched us kiss. For a second I was afraid it would freak him out to see two girls doing it, but he just tickled my leg more. I let one foot drop to the floor and raised my other knee. Eddie took the hint: he started to rub me through my panties. That made me kiss Lisa harder. Eddie watched our tongues go back and forth while she grabbed at my titties through my shirt.

I could just imagine what Eddie’s penis looked like by now. I put one foot in his lap. I couldn’t see what I was doing, because I was half turned toward Lisa, but I could feel the lump under there. Eddie held my foot and moved it across his fly. I flexed my toes, and that did it. He went “ah!” and stopped rubbing my panties for a second — but only for a second. With a sudden burst of strength, he jerked them down. My neck was starting to hurt. I squirmed around to face Lisa. She scooched down so I was on top of her, lying across the sofa. Eddie got my underwear off over my feet and flipped my skirt up. He ran his hands over my bare ass, squeezing it and patting the mounds, and he was just digging his fingers into my crotch when Lisa raised her leg and knocked him out of the way. It was like she wanted me all to herself. I rubbed against her thigh, humping my butt and getting her jeans all damp and fragrant.

Poor Eddie was left out in the cold. But he’s a smart kid. He figured as long as I had my back to him, he’d unzip my skirt. As Lisa felt the waistband come loose, she grabbed two fistfuls of my shirt and pulled. It came off over my head. So now I was naked, except for my socks. Eddie got one of them off and managed to raise my foot to his mouth. I liked that better than when Sister Margaret did it — almost, if not quite, as much I liked grinding my clitty-button into the rough denim on Lisa’s thigh.