The program was wrong. It was supposed to be a dance, but instead it was a saxophone and guitar duet, with the woman playing the guitar and singing, and the man playing the saxophone. The woman had a nice voice. Her guitar playing was okay but rudimentary. Mr. Menke, my language arts teacher, would get a kick out of me using that word—I’m pretty sure I used it right.

After the song was over, and the applause died down, Eugene whispered, “I thought it was supposed to be a dance. Flamingo.”

“Not flamingo, flamenco,” I whispered back.

It was the last piece of the parents’ talent night thing, and people were getting up to leave. Eugene and I remained in our seats, still holding hands.

“I thought it was pretty good,” I told Eugene, only half whispering, but with my lips close to his ear. I thought of kissing him there. Sticking my tongue in. The thought made me shiver. I thought of him sticking his tongue in my ear. I thought about telling him that. I squeezed his hand and he squeezed back.

“Right, pretty good. Flamenco,” he said.

“That wasn’t the name of the song,” I told him. “I think it was ‘Just the Two of Us.’ I really liked the sax guy. Do you know whose dad he was?”

“The program says Clarise Robinson, but maybe the program is wrong. Anyway she’s not in our class, I’m pretty sure. Not a junior either, I’m pretty sure. And the mom’s kid is Roberto Katz. They’re probably freshmen.”

“Probably,” I agreed.

By now the auditorium was mostly empty.

Eugene asked, “So when you said you liked the sax guy, do you mean the way he played or him?”

I didn’t know how to answer at first, but I blurted, “Both.” He and his playing had aroused me a little. Okay, definitely made me a little wet. While I was listening, I was wondering what his penis looked like, and I imagined it kind of breaking through his pants, all erect and all, with a calm pink color and a sweet little penis slit, not that I’d ever seen one except on-line, but I thought about kissing it, his penis, his penis slit, sticking the tip of my tongue in it.

“What about the woman, Mrs. Katz,” I asked Eugene. “What did you think of her?”

“She was okay,” he said.

“Her breasts were pretty big,” I mentioned. “I suppose you noticed that.”

“Kind of,” Eugene said.

“Did you get turned on? Did you picture her naked?”

“Naked? No. Big breasts don’t really turn me on.”

My breasts are quite modest. I was glad to hear that Eugene preferred smaller breasts. I thought about what it might feel like if Eugene kissed my nipples. Then I thought what I might feel like if the sax guy, Mr. Robinson, touched my nipples with his penis. I imagined him rubbing his penis up and down across one of my nipples. I clenched my legs together.

“Should we go?” Eugene asked.

“Where?” I said. I wasn’t really thinking, or still thinking about sax guy’s penis kissing my nipple.

“Where do you want to go?” Eugene asked.