Chapter 1

Let me tell you about May Wright. I've always said that attractiveness isn't a single measurement — some girls are cute, others beautiful, and others just sexy. Well, May was a perfect ten in all three. Take every high school girl you ever liked, roll them up into one package, slap on curly brown hair, big breasts with nipples that always stuck out through her shirt, and enough makeup to kill a lesser mortal (her only physical flaw, in my opinion), and you have May Wright.

She was, of course, a complete and utter bitch, but my hormone-addled brain didn't realize that until she had already sauntered out of my life on stiletto heels. But that doesn't come until later, so I guess for now all you need to remember is that May = hotness.

I'm James Nader, known otherwise as James Nudie (elementary school), Jimmy the Freak (middle school), and that one guy in my math class who always talks to himself (high school). I never had too many friends, and I was not particularly smart, particularly athletic, or particularly attractive. Not to mention that I don't get along with people too well — I mean, I try, but people always get freaked out, and I suppose I talk too much and ramble on and on without really thinking about the other person. At least I was back then.

So, in short, I couldn't find a clique, much less a girlfriend. By eleventh grade, I had resigned myself to dying a virgin.

And then May asked me out.

School had let out about an hour ago. I had just come from a lacrosse team practice. (Yes, we had a lacrosse team, and no, this still doesn't mean I was athletic. I merely knew what the hell lacrosse was, which qualified you. Our team's sworn rivals were Eastmount, also known as the only other lacrosse team in the tri-county area. Wait, where was I again? Oh yeah, May.)

May had just come from cheerleader practice, which I knew because they had kicked us out of the gym, forcing us to practice on the muddy grass outside. She wasn't wearing her uniform - if she just wore it around everywhere, no one would ever come to the football games. Still, she was wearing a tight blue t-shirt and shorts, and looked good enough to eat in them.

"Hey, you. Jamie, right?"

"James." I paused. Is that too formal? "Jimmy, if you like."

"Yeah, Jimmy, whatever," May said with forced nonchalance. I noticed that she was shuffling her feet (wearing running shoes and not heels for once), and glancing away. Was she... shy? Beautiful, popular, confident May acting shy in front of me?

She finally spoke. "Anyway, I was wondering if you were doing anything tonight."

My heart leapt up into my throat, simultaneously beating like a jackhammer, almost giving me a heart attack, and very nearly suffering from cliché overload. And I think I pinched myself for good measure.

"Well?" she asked, looking around. Looking back, I think she was more cautious of anyone seeing her than shy, but at the time my brain wouldn't accept such a thought.

"Of course. I mean, what would I be doing tonight? It's only a Wednesday night, and I never do anything anyway, so I'm glad I have something to do tonight, because otherwise I would just stay at home and..." My machine-gun speech slowly trailed off as I realized I was rambling again and probably freaking her out.

But May just smiled. "Good. Why don't you meet me at, oh, seven 'o' clock. In that big bookstore downtown."

I mutely nodded, not trusting myself to speak without blurting out a love confession on the spot, which wouldn't be untrue but would kind of be pushing things forward a bit fast if you know what I mean.

Of course, once I got home there was the issue of what you actually did to get ready for a date. I mean, I showered, and tried to get my brown hair to stay down (unsuccessfully), and looked in the mirror and regretted my pimples immensely. But after that, I was lost. Where would we be going? Should I wear a suit or something, or just be casual? May really hadn't given me anything other than a time and place. Eventually, I just decided to go for casual and hope that wasn't too big of a faux pas.

I wondered why May was asking me out anyway. I was pretty sure she had a boyfriend - although that might have changed recently, I didn't keep up with school gossip. And even if she didn't, why go out with me, a nobody in every sense of the word? It didn't make sense. Well, I wasn't going to question it - that might pop this balloon of dream I was standing on, sending me tumbling down to reality (and probably breaking something when I landed.)

I left after supper, saying I was going to my friend Mark's. I don't know why I didn't tell them the truth — I mean, I should be pretty darn proud of it, but I didn't want to treat May like a trophy or anything and saying I had a date (my first date, if you want to be technical about it) would lead to a whole bunch of questioning and Parental Moments (TM). So I just left.

Of course, I shouldn't have worried about using May as a trophy — she would have deserved it. Still, I can't begrudge her in the end. And there I go again, skipping ahead.

Anyway, I drove down to the big bookstore. The store itself wasn't too bad, but the downtown area was pretty poor and grungy, and nowhere near where we usually lived. I didn't see May there when I arrived, so I sat down and did some sketches to calm my nerves. I like to draw when I'm stressed — nothing fancy, just everyday things, animals, people...

Before I knew it, someone was tapping me on the shoulder. It was May, and damn was she ever hot. She was wearing a white tank top which offered tantalizing glimpses of flesh, but not quite enough, and a rather fetching jean skirt. Her nipples were poking out as always.

"You look great," I said honestly. She just smiled in return. "So where are we going."

"Follow me," she said with a shrug.

I still don't fully remember the path we took — a complex maze of people and buildings, a flash of streets and graffiti May kept going faster, until eventually it felt like I was chasing her, which was a strangely familiar feeling since I had been chasing her mentally for so long. Well, not so much chasing as stalking from afar. But not stalking, because that sounds freaky. In less fancy terms, I was just trying to catch up to her.

She stopped in front of a brick and mortar apartment building. It was three stories tall and looked kind of old-fashioned, except for the cracks in the wall and the lewd graffiti. And the smell of marijuana, although I suppose the weed was around back in the day too. Whatever. The building had no nameplate, other than a spray-painted "PARADISE FLATS" on the wall.

"Where are we?" I asked May.

"Can't you read? Paradise Flats. Key party, top floor." May tossed open the door and walked inside, not looking at me the whole time." "What's a key party?" I felt as though I should know this, but maybe it was a popular kid secret or something. Sometimes I wondered if they had their own ancient, indecipherable set of customs and language — I rarely understood what they were talking about, or why they were so excited about it.

She laughed. It was a sweet laugh — a gentle, musical noise like a cross between a bird and an angel. Not that I know what an angel's laugh sounded like, although I imagine it would be nice and musical. "Basically, there are a bunch of couples together, and the girls go off to different bedrooms with locks on them. The guys pick a key at random and get the girl who's in the room it opens."

"And then what?"

"They do it. Duh." May punched at the elevator buttons, but nothing happened. "Damn thing must be broken. Let's take the stairs."

The stairs were cracked, even though they were made of cement. "Do what?"

"Have sex. I didn't think you were retarded too."

"I'm not," I said automatically. My mind was swirling. This was weirder than I thought. Still, I was guaranteed sex, possibly even with May, so I decided not to question thing. "So it's kind of like Sex Roulette?"

"You could say that. The entire top floor of this building is into swinging and group sex, and I join in sometimes. An ex-boyfriend of mine introduced me to this place. I really wanted to go tonight, but I needed a partner and I'm sure Derrick wouldn't be into it, so thanks for stepping up." Her tone was casual, like she was talking about the movie she saw on the weekend.

Truth be told, group sex was always something I was interested in, in the abstract, but actually doing it in real life seemed strange. Still, I supposed something like this would be the best way — more swinging than an orgy, a low point on the learning curve. I could gradually slide into it. Of course, I would be sliding into something else before the evening was over. Sorry, that was bad.

The top floor didn't look any different than the others, but May headed straight to the apartment on the far right side. The door was green and rusty, but it swung open to a surprisingly nice-looking and well-furnished living room. There were several men sitting here, and they were a nice spread of ages and appearances. I mean, there was one guy that must have been over forty, and a burly black guy in his twenties, and a really handsome-looking young guy (I'm not bi or anything, but you can kind of tell, even academically, when a guy's attractive, even if he's not attractive to you. I'm not gay.) May smiled at the last as she entered.

"Hey May," the attractive guy said. "Who's the newbie?"

"This is Jimmy," she said, flushed. "He's from my school. So where am I today?" (To tell the truth, I prefer being called James, but they can call me anything they damn well please if I'm getting sex in return. Such is the way the teenage brain works.)

"Number seven. It's the first bedroom in Marv's flat," said the older guy, reading off a list. "Sit down, Jimmy."

Shakily, I found a spare chair. What was I supposed to do now? What did you talk about at a key party? The weather? Local Sports Team? The pros and cons of screwing your respective partners? I sure wouldn't be able to answer that. Come to think of it, hadn't we sort of skipped a step here?

"You look nervous," the older man noted. "Just relax and go with it, and you'll be fine. And if it's not for you, then nobody's forcing you to come back. But give it a try and you'll probably like it." I guess he had given that speech a lot, as he was reciting it as if from memory.

"All right," I said meekly.

A Latino couple in their late twenties entered about five minutes later, and were greeted warmly by the rest of the guys. I didn't know what to say and just felt awkward, so I stayed quiet. The girl (Bianca? I think so) went off to a separate room, and then it was just the eight of us guys.

"So," said the older man. Paul. Somewhere in the conversation I had learned his name was Paul. He looked like a Paul, too. Maye a Neil, but Neils look a lot like Pauls anyway. Anyway, Paul said "Jimmy, you're new, so what we're going to do is each grab a key from a bag and find the door it belongs to. Try not to all go to the same door at once. Once you've got it, leave your key in the lock."

I nodded, trying to figure out the logistics of it. There were eight couples here, so that would make eight bedrooms in what I thought were four apartments... two-bedroom apartments were fine, but who would put a different lock on each door? It was convenient, but strange.

We passed around the bag, and each took a key. Wordlessly, we dispersed. I was right — each apartment did have two bedrooms, and they mostly had padlocks. I tried the two in that apartment, but didn't get anywhere, so I went across the hall. The first lock opened, and I stepped in with an auditory gulp.

It is important to remind you at this point that I was a virgin, my greatest sexual experience being a hot ménage à trois with my hand and Internet porn. Also, Marley was dead to begin with.