(December 1968)

I’d had a crush on our next door neighbor Carolyn since I was ... well since puberty hit. Many a night since then I’d lie in bed imagining some improbable scenario in which she ended up in my bed. In reality all I ever had in my bed was a pillow and box of Kleenex. Carolyn was two years older than me, so I couldn’t very well ask her for a date.

With Carolyn off at college my fantasies continued more than ever. Then she came home for Christmas break. What happened was more improbable than anything I could have dreamt up. I was in my room reading when my mom called up the stairs that I had a phone call. I thumped down the stairs and picked up the phone in the hall.

“Hello?” I said tentatively. “This is Jack.”

“Hey Jack. It’s Carolyn. From next door you know?”

“Oh yeah,” I said. “Carolyn.” My mind was spinning. Why was she calling me? And why couldn’t I think of something better to say?

“I was just wondering,” she went on. “At school I’m taking this art course, and over break I need to finish a project. Do you think you can help me with it?”

“Uh, sure,” I blurted, having no idea what the project might be. I would have done anything.

“Great,” she said. “Do you think you could come over?”

“You mean like now?”

“Yeah, now would be great, if you could.”

“I can. I can. Should I bring anything or anything?”

She laughed. “No, it’s come as you are.”

“Right,” I said. “Come as you are. I mean as I am. I mean ... I mean I’ll be right over.”

Fifteen seconds later Carolyn answered the door. It would have been ten seconds but I spent five seconds thrashing myself into a fresh shirt and swallowing two gulps of mouthwash.

“It’s so great you could come,” Carolyn said. “I’ve got everything set up up in my room.” She led the way upstairs. I couldn’t believe my luck. I was actually going to see Carolyn’s bedroom. Now maybe some of my fantasies could take place in her bedroom instead of mine.

But my brain wasn’t working very well. I hardly noticed what was in Carolyn’s room, other than Carolyn herself. I’d never been this close to her before. Up close she was even cuter, make that more beautiful, than—than anything. She has this curly red-brown hair. This pert nose. These big soft eyes. She’s medium short with medium small breasts. I guess I’m not really getting at what is most special about her. She’s ... perfect.

And for what seemed like forever, those soft, blue gray green brown eyes looked straight into mine. I gulped.

“Charlie,” she said. “I mean Jack.” I was okay answering to Charlie, whoever he was. “Jack, this project is kind of ... well ... you’ll see. I called it the Red Plate Special.”

I nodded as if that explained everything.

“See, what it is is a kind of art project. Do you know what sperm is?”

“Sp—” The rest of the word wouldn’t leave my mouth.

“Semen, actually,” she said.

“Se—”

“Right. Semen. So what I need is some of your semen on a red plate. A splattering of it.”

“A splattering,” I said, nodding.

“Do you think you could do that for me?”

I gulped again.

Her eyes stared into mine.

“I uh guess so.”

“Great. I’ll bring the platter while you get ready or prepare or whatever you have to do.”

“You want me to, uh...”

“Uh huh,” she said, and before I could get any more confirmation that that, she was out of the room.

I didn’t know what to do. She wanted my semen or sperm on a red plate, a splattering of it, apparently. So I did understand that my job was to make the splatter. But did she want me to unzip and ... Or get all the way naked? Or what, exactly? One thing I didn’t have to worry about was getting a boner. I’d had one since two seconds into her telephone call. She came back into the room before I’d done anything.

“Charlie?” she said. “I mean Jack? You’re not ... Would it help if I were naked? Would that arouse you?”

My mouth opened.

She put the red plate on her bed, which now I noticed was neatly made up, the bedspread a bunch of kittens popping balloons.