Here’s Mr. McKelvin, the janitor at the high school, posing with his mop and the suspenders I got for him. For an old dude, McKelvin was pretty cool. I guess he’d been at the high school for centuries. I heard he died last year of lung cancer or something. His was the first cock I ever sucked.

It started when I was a junior in spring one afternoon after cheerleading practice. I was depressed about something and smoking in the girls’ john when he caught me. I think he was embarrassed. He said sorry, sorry, but you shouldn’t smoke. I said what are you going to do, report me? He said no, but you know it’s not good for you. I offered him a cigarette. We smoked together. He was old and wrinkly, but I could tell he was clean and a nice guy even though his pants didn’t fit and his tee shirt was totally ratty. I said doesn’t it ever get lonely just pushing a mop around all night? He said sometimes. I said what do you think about, if you think about anything? He blushed. I knew I had control over him. I teased him about thinking about girls. He blushed even more. Would you like me to suck your cock? I said. He didn’t say anything. I unzipped him and there he was big and bouncy as a puppy dog. I knew not to use teeth. I had a good time with him. He tasted clean and fresh, better than the cigarette, and when he came in my mouth I was so proud of myself. I managed to swallow most of it, but some drooled onto the floor. We both stared down at the little puddle. Luckily I have a mop, Mr. McKelvin said. We both laughed. I asked him if he’d ever done this before, and he said no but now he’d have something good to think about for the rest of his life.

You know I can’t fuck you, but I might like to suck you again sometimes if that’s all right, I said. He said that would be fine. We met again a bunch of times. He asked me if I wanted him to do that to me, and I said I didn’t think so. I think he wanted to. I think I hurt his feelings. In truth, I did want it. I don’t know why I said no. Maybe because I wanted to do it with someone my own age, or someone I really loved, or I don’t know. Anyway, not long after that is when I got him the silly suspenders. I made him take off his ratty tee shirt for the picture. You should throw that away and get a good shirt, I told him. I will, he promised, especially since now I have such groovy suspenders.

The next time I saw him after school he wasn’t wearing them. Did they break or something, I asked him. He said no, he was saving them for a special occasion. I don’t know why, but my feelings were hurt. I stopped staying after school. I saw him near the end of the term. He nodded to me. I went up to him and told him I was being a good girl—that I’d quit smoking. It was a lie, but I did quit a year later when I found a real boyfriend.