Chapter 3

I've never been in a tornado or hurricane. I've seen film of reporters standing in the approach of a hurricane, with everything behind them blowing horizontally, and them hardly able to stand up. It looks like a confusing, wild and scary environment to be in. At the same time you wish you could be there too. There's something visceral about battling nature and surviving.

But I'm also sure that, once the tornado or hurricane was actually there in full force, all you'd be doing was trying to survive. All the attention you could manage to bring to bear would be focused on just making it through another ten seconds.

What happened in bed with Robbie that night was a lot like that. Like the rising wind of a hurricane, we started with little kisses that rapidly swelled into long, spit-swapping, tongue-sucking, trying to eat each other's mouth kind of kisses, while we rubbed our bodies against each other with the same force and vigor that the car wash guy applies his chamois to Dad's car after a wash. I wanted to touch every square inch of her body with every square inch of mine.

I do not remember pushing the underwear I wore as pajamas down. I'm pretty sure I'm not the one who took her panties off either. And I don't remember getting on top of her. We were just writhing around while we kissed, until suddenly my prick was surrounded by the same incredible heat her breasts had burned me with when she first pressed them against me. As that heat climbed all the way to the base of my prick she sobbed into my mouth and almost crushed me with her arms.

And then there was all this thrashing, and everything felt so incredibly good, and she was chanting "Oh Bobby" in my ear and her legs were around me, squeezing, and I was having the mother of all orgasms. I remember being surprised it was happening, and thinking, just for a few seconds, that what my hand had brought me in the past were the mere ghosts of orgasms, pale shades that only suggested what an orgasm could feel like.

And then we were both gasping and sobbing and holding each other as that incredible high began to seep out of us and the full impact of what we had just done came crashing down onto us like the tons of water a hurricane brings to shore.

"I'm sorry!" I gasped.

One of her hands left my back and I felt her fingers find my lips. She pressed them.

"Shut up," she whispered.

"Are you okay?" I asked, ignoring her and talking past her fingers.

"I'm fine," she said. She took her fingers away.

"Are you sure?" I asked. I couldn't shake the feeling that I had done something really bad.

"I didn't think it would be like that," she panted.

"I didn't mean to -"

She must have been waiting for me to say something like that, because her fingers were right there at my lips again.

"Shut up, Bobby," she said, and then "Let go of me."

My arms sprang apart and she rolled. Somehow the covers had ended up on the floor. She bounced out of bed and started looking around on the floor. She picked up the blanket, shook it and then tossed it on my legs. She did the same thing with the sheet and then leaned down. When she came back up, her panties were in her hand. She didn't put them on. Instead she went to get her T shirt.

Then she came back to the bed and leaned down to kiss me firmly on the lips. It was a medium long kiss that communicated clearly that she liked kissing me. When it was over her lips hovered over mine.

"I love you," she said softly.

And then she was gone, leaving me with silence, dancing shadows, and the streaks of something amazing still lingering in my body. I don't know how long I lay there, trying to remember any detail of what had happened. My mind was full of half remembered smells and tastes and feels, but try as I might, I couldn't remember everything I had just done five minutes before.

Have you ever taken little squares of tin foil and molded them around all four of a cat's paws? It doesn't hurt the cat, but the cat walks really funny, lifting each foot independently from all the others and taking really small, jerky steps. It's like nothing is coordinated any more.

That's what I was like when I got up the next morning. Gramps was already up. He always got up at the crack of dawn for some reason. He was drinking coffee and reading yet another book at the kitchen table.

He glanced up at me.

"You look like hell," he said.

I immediately looked at the bulge in my underwear, thinking there must be something there that was giving me away. I had worn a pair of jockey shorts as pajamas since I got out of diapers. It was just natural to eat breakfast in them before I got dressed. I looked back at him. He was staring at me with an interested look on his face.

"I didn't comb my hair," I said, trying to think of something to say.

"Down there?" he asked, and then grinned.

I gave up trying to think of something to say and went for the cereal.

"So, is Robbie still mad at you?" he asked.

"No," I said, thinking of her last words to me the night before. Then I realized he shouldn't have asked that question, because Robbie wasn't up yet. Was she? "Is she up?"

"Haven't seen her," said Gramps. He sipped coffee and kept looking at me, like he expected me to say something.

I suddenly wondered what kinds of noises we had made last night. I had no idea what they were, or how loud they'd been.

But surely ... if he had known what we were doing ... he would have done something.

For lack of anything better to do, I ate. I kept my mouth full so I couldn't talk. Gramps eventually went back to reading. As soon as I was done I said I was going over to Johns and left the kitchen. I got dressed and then left the house, but I didn't go to John's.

That's because it was seven-thirty on a Sunday morning.

There were some woods over behind the grocery store. I had to cross the railroad tracks to get there, and there was trash of all kinds scattered all over the place. Some of it was interesting, but most was just trash. Then, when I got into the woods, there were trails. I wondered who had made them as I followed one, which twisted and turned until it came to a clearing. There were beer cans everywhere and a circle of rocks with the remains of a fire in them. Again there was all manner of garbage. I started stepping more carefully when I saw a used condom lying in the dirt. Behind a log was a pair of what used to be pink cotton panties.

I left there and just wandered aimlessly, taking a new trail whenever I came to one. The whole woods couldn't have been bigger than about five acres, so I knew I couldn't really get lost. I just thought about stuff.

I tried to remember the details of what we had done, but they were still lost to me. I could remember the feel of her lips, and what her hair smelled like. And her skin against mine. I knew we had fucked and that I had cum in her, but had John or one of the other guys asked me what it was like I'd have sat there mute. I knew I was supposed to feel guilty about it, but her last "I love you" had erased all my fears that I had done something to make her hate me forever.

I was getting hungry and checked my watch. I couldn't believe it was eleven-thirty, and that I had been walking around for hours.

On my way back I went into the grocery store and went over to the rack where they displayed condoms. I didn't actually know I'd be using any. Maybe I was feeling optimistic. Actually, I have no idea what I was feeling. I just knew you were supposed to use a condom, and that we hadn't, and that if it ever happened again I should be ready.

I'd never bought one before and there was a bewildering number of different kinds. Plus I had no idea what size I was. I finally just grabbed a box of Trojans. I'd heard of them before. I started toward the checkout and stopped. There was only one register open, and Mary Anne Franklin was ringing out a man who had bought a pumpkin and a gallon of milk. Mary Ann was my lab partner in Physics.

I left the store with a doughnut and a pint of chocolate milk.

I'm sure she didn't see me putting the condoms back, because Mary Ann flirted with me when she checked me out.

When I got home Robbie was running the vacuum cleaner. There was obviously a whirl of cleaning going on and I figured she'd be ticked off at me for not being there to help her clean up after the party. Really, though, there hadn't been all that much party. Some food and drink had been consumed, but the cake was uncut.

"Bobby!" she yelled when she saw me. She turned the vacuum off. "Mom and Dad are coming home tomorrow!"

"They are?" I could feel my eyebrows going up.

"Dad called while you were gone. Where were you? Gramps said you went to John's. I told him that was crazy. You didn't, right?"

She was talking a mile a minute and hyper. Her hands were fluttering at her sides as she talked.

"I went for a walk," I said.

"Oh. Can you help me clean up? I want things to be nice for Mom when she gets here."

"Sure," I said. "What do you want me to do?"

Men, don't just ask a woman what she wants you to do when she's on a cleaning frenzy. It never ends. She's busy herself, but she can still think up a hundred things for you to do, most of which don't make sense, because nobody in the entire world would ever notice there was dust inside a lamp shade, you know? And that's just one example.

Anyway, Gramps came through and stood and watched us for a while. He was chewing something. He didn't say anything, but while I was cleaning a window he came over and pointed to a spot I'd missed. He grinned, and a little while later he wandered off to my parents' bedroom and closed the door. He was probably reading again.

It was two-thirty when I stopped Robbie.

"I came home for lunch," I said. "I've been cleaning ever since."

She looked startled.

"I'm starving," she said.

We started for the kitchen and she said "Where's Gramps?"

"In Mom and Dad's room," I said. "We can cook for ourselves, though."

"That's not what I was thinking about," she said. As soon as we got into the kitchen proper she pushed me up against the wall and kissed me, long and hard.

"I'm horny," she said, when she pulled back.

"You're crazy," I said, being completely honest.

"Maybe," she said. "Ravioli?"

"Sure."

I got two cans of Chef Boyardee while she got a bowl to microwave them in. I opened the cans and then gave them to her. I got two smaller bowls down and spoons while she watched the food going round and round through the glass in the door.

She turned around suddenly.

"What are we going to do when Mom and Dad get home?"

I shrugged. "Be happy?"

"About us, you dolt," she said.

The microwave dinged and she took the food out. Then, as if she hadn't said a freaking word, she dished it out and sat down to eat.

"Robbie... ?" I said.

"Not now. Gramps might hear us."

She acted like she'd been snorting cocaine all day. Gramps must have asked her if she was all right half a dozen times. Each time she said she was glad Mom and Dad were coming home. He made a crack about how that must mean she was eager to see him go back to his house, but I don't think she heard it. She didn't say anything anyway.

When she wanted to take down the curtains and wash them I put my foot down. I pulled her outside on the front porch.

"Look," I said. "Mom is probably going to have to spend some time in bed. They had to operate on her, and she's not going to inspect the house when she gets home. You know Dad. He's like me. We could care less about whether the pillows on the couch match or not. You need to calm down."

"I can't calm down!" she moaned. "All I can think about is how you made me feel last night. I want to do it again. I wanted to do it again while I was going back to my room last night. I wanted to do it again when I woke up. I've wanted to do it all day long, Bobby! I've turned into a slut! I'm as bad as Tiffany!"

I put my hands on her shoulders.

"Calm down. Do you want to do it with every guy you can think of?"

She looked shocked. "Of course not! I want to do it with you!"

"Then you're not as bad as Tiffany," I said.

She didn't think that was funny at all.

"Don't you get it?" she rasped. "I'm not supposed to feel this way, Bobby! It isn't right for us to do that. Nobody in the whole world would say it was okay. And I know we can't do it again. But I want to! Bobby, this is going to drive me insane!"

"It's not going to drive you insane," I said. "There are people all over the world who don't have sex, and it doesn't drive them insane."

"Yeah, but they probably don't know what they're missing," she said.

I admit that made me feel good, but I was trying to talk her down so she wouldn't have a conniption fit.

"Look, to be perfectly honest about it, things happened so fast last night that I don't remember a lot of it." She looked insulted, but I went on. "It was wonderful. The point is that if you try not to think about it, maybe the memory of it will fade a little bit and it won't be so bad."

"That's insane," she said. "I'll never forget a single second of last night."

I admit that made me feel really good. It also made me even more frustrated that I couldn't bring up all those obviously delicious memories.

"OK," I said. "It's November. In about six months we'll graduate. We'll get summer jobs. You've already got your acceptance letter for college. I haven't got mine yet, but it's a different school anyway. We just have to get through six months and summer and then you won't have to see me."

She punched me in the arm! Hard!

"That's the second time you've said that," she said, her voice low. "It was the first time that made me realize that someday I might never see you again. And that made me feel empty inside. And that made me let you kiss me and fondle my breasts! You're not helping, Bobby. Just shut up, okay?"

She did calm down after that. Gramps was busy finding all his stuff and washing it and packing his suitcase and all that. Robbie was finally happy with the way the house looked. Either that or it was no longer distracting her to clean, one of the two. Dad called again and we both got to talk to him. He said Mom had a long haul ahead of her, and that he'd need our help. We both promised to do whatever was needed.