I knew it was a mistake to take Keith home, but he kept pestering, and finally I said, okay, but we can’t fool around because I share the place with my sister, or actually she lets me live there, so be good, please.

Keith promised to be good.

“So you share a bedroom with your sister?” Keith asked almost as soon as we were in the door.

“No, I’ve got my own bedroom,” I said.

“Then I don’t see why... ?”

“Because it would make me feel uncomfortable.”

“So she’s sort of like your mother or something?”

“Or something,” I said. “Would you like something to drink? Coke or tea?”

“Tea would be good. Do you have any green tea?”

I went into the kitchen to fix the tea, and when I came back Keith was in my bedroom reading my diary.

“Who said you could read that?” I demanded.

“Sorry,” he said, “but I couldn’t resist knowing all your secrets. I didn’t know you liked me sucking your toes so much. And your walls are bare. Your sister have something against pictures?”

I set the tea on the dresser. “Put it down, right now,” I said.

“Okay, okay,” he said, “but did you really masturbate yourself with a banana?”

I picked up the teacup. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to throw this at you.”

Keith laughed. “What, and make a mess of your sister’s apartment? You wouldn’t happen to have any bananas handy?”

“You’re so mean!” I set the teacup down again. I realized if he read the next page he’d read about me and Nicole. “Want to fuck?” I said, pulling my top down, exposing my breasts.

Keith put the diary down and gathered me in his arms. A minute later we were both naked, on the bed, fucking.

“Am I better than a banana?” he asked, teasing me, thrusting slow, slower, slowest.

“I don’t know,” I told him. “I can eat the banana afterwards.”

Keith laughed. He stopped teasing and fucked me hard, harder, hardest. I loved the feeling of him coming in me, but I didn’t come myself. It was the first time we’d had sex that I didn’t have an orgasm. I was okay with it, but Keith wasn’t. “Maybe you needed that banana after all,” he said, frowning.

“Don’t be sad,” I said. “I think there’s one left in the kitchen.” I don’t know why I said that. Maybe so I could hide my diary in the desk or under the mattress or someplace. I couldn’t believe I’d left it out.

“Be right back,” Keith said.

I had just enough time to shove the diary in the dresser under my underwear before Keith returned.

“Do you give the banana a name?” he asked.

“I don’t actually put it in,” I told him.

“Why not?

“Okay. Mr. Shenk.”

“Who was he?”

“No one.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, he was my ninth-grade math teacher. Pre-Algebra.”

“Aha! Did you have a crush on him? Did you wear short skirts and no panties and sit in the front row with your legs crossed?”