“Look through the hole,” Miriam instructed, turning off the light and guiding me beside the double dresser.

It was special to be let in on something by a cousin like Miriam. I’d seen her breasts at the pool. I knew she was already dating. I hoped when I got a girlfriend, she’d look like my cousin.

The hole in the plaster was low enough that I had to get on my knees. The rooms in this place couldn’t decide if they retained their 1930s grand décor, or were just in need of renovation. Maybe that was part of the resort’s supposed charm; the Borscht Belt staying as it’s always been. I’d have preferred HBO, but think it’s OK to go kosher for a few weeks each summer.

It was dim on the other side -- the light was off, but the blinds didn’t quite close -- but not too dark to see a boy and a girl not much older than ourselves. The girl I recognized from the dining room, a captive in another extended family vacation. They were Reformed like us.

I’d passed her once in the corridor and she’d been braless. I know how to tell. In the Catskills, people dress up, but maybe not when just going down the hallway. She’d said hi and probably knew I’d looked.

Much the same with the maid with red hair, except she’s older and shows me her bra when she leans over.

The boy I’d seen going to the fitness room and reading in the lounge. The books at this place date from the 50s, but there are still some good ones. He’d seemed bored, but you don’t just walk up to someone and ask if he plays chess.

We come to the Catskills every summer because we always have. A cheery staff to schedule your day makes it a vacation. They act cheerful for the tips because if they’re not, we won’t.

I could hear the radio in the other room. A City FM. Oldies.

“What are they doing?” Miriam asked, close enough for her question to tickle my ear. It was a whisper, but with the music on the other side, they wouldn’t have heard if it wasn’t.

“Sitting on the bed. She’s in her underwear.”

“She’s a senior and he’s her cousin. He goes to Hofstra. Know what that costs?”

The guy’s her cousin? My own cousin tells me this?

“She told me at the archery range,” Miriam continued. They’ve been doing it together for two summers already. She’s from Connecticut. She calls it their ‘rubber hour’ because their folks are playing bridge while they do it. Get it?”

I guess.

“Is he feeling her up?”

Why’s she asking me? It’s not like I’m another girl.

“Sort of.” He’d worked down her straps and was reaching behind her back. It looked like she was laughing when her breasts popped free, but I couldn’t really hear.

I didn’t think I should be watching, but Miriam had me squished and sensed I’d seen something. “What happened?”

“He’s got it off. Her bra, I mean.”

“Pervert!” the “p” making a puff of air against my temple, leaving me wondering if he was the pervert for doing what he was doing, or if I was the pervert for watching. “Nice boobs?” nuzzling my shoulder with hers.

“I guess,” to play it safe, but I wasn’t guessing anything.

“Tell me when they’re naked.”

It didn’t take long for the two to do that. I’d seen Miriam naked when I was little, but that hardly counts.

“Are they doing it?”

“Not sure,” guarding my response, as I couldn’t see between them. “We shouldn’t be spying,” still watching. It’s strange talking to your cousin about sex, but at least when she’s behind you, she can’t see your face.

“She used to have this room and told me about the hole. She said you could watch, too.”

Me? She doesn’t even know me.

“She tips that red-haired maid to change the sheets after. The maids sell rubbers to the guests, but it’s not like an official hotel business, you think? nibbling the side of my neck. “So tell me, cute boy, what you see,” returning to her demanding mode.

“They’re sort of playing around,” I summarized.

“Maybe like this?” sliding up our shirts enough for my back to feel her bra and reaching under my arms to tickle my chest.

“Don’t!” trying to shrug her off, but not wanting to make a racket.

Her reach went lower. “Who’s on top?”

“He is.”

“I first thought Dad was screwing that red-head,” Miriam somewhat changed the subject, “but actually it’s your mom.”

“No way!” Mom sleeping with Uncle Amos while Dad’s in the City? I’d seen the two playing footsie in the Jacuzzi, but figured it some game from when they were little.

“They do it when Mom’s in the salon. Her appointment’s a half-hour.”

Jacob slept with Leah and Rachel and they were sisters.

“Don’t worry about my mom, though,” Miriam kept going. “She’s got that Robert who teaches tennis.”

The thought of Aunt Sarah in bed with that tennis guy was sexy, even if she was my aunt, but Miriam’s hand brought me back to the present.

“Knew you had a boner.”

The girl had hooked her heels over the boy’s legs and was pulling against his back, grinning my way as she did so.

“Good. Let’s get on my bed.”

It’s totally appropriate, I’m sure you agree, our discount, as our presence assures that the place is kosher. Being the Rabbi’s wife, it is of course necessary that I keep myself informed regarding the guests, as the Rabbi, thinking so much, may miss certain things that can occur in even the best-run resorts.