Come in, the water's fine

Once again, Sam and I crept along the fifty yards of wooded path toward the abandoned mansion. It was August now, and chillier this time; the brisk air raised goosebumps on my arms.

'Here it is,' Sam said.

'Yes, here it is,' said I.

'You have a rubber, right?'

'Of course.'

I wondered for a moment whether I really wanted to do this. Usually, Samantha was so aggressive that, by the time I got to actually thinking things out, she was already pulling me toward her, pinning me against her nippled chest, whispering, 'Come in, the water's fine.' I thought maybe she'd turned less enthusiastic this evening; but no, she lurked ten yards off, pants down and peeing in the woods. Then she came to me, pressed me to her chest, and whispered, 'Come in, the water's fine.'

Once again, I heeded the call.

Me, my girlfriend, and I

Samantha and I now regularly paraded through the neighborhood holding hands. We passed Smiths's house, expecting--and getting--no envy. Two streets to the west we passed Sharon's house, a spreading tudor mansion; Sharon regularly appeared in an upstairs window, nostrils flaring.

My girlfriend, my girlfriend. . .one of the greatest phrases I ever had the pleasure of uttering was my girlfriend. Now, when I gave excuses about why I couldn't watch car racing at Dustin's house, or take a mud bath with Harriet, I could say, 'Sorry. My girlfriend and I have plans.' (Then, my body would grow tingly all over, my eyes would cross, and I'd pass out--but that's beside the point.)

One evening, Sam and I were walking past Sharon's house, her arms wrapped around my waist. A lighted window on the second floor of the mansion stood out against the darkening sky. The silhouettes of a scruffy young man and maned young woman could be seen in the window. Kissing. (The scruffy young man was enjoying it. The maned young woman was distracted.)

I stepped on a stick. The maned young woman's head pulled away from the scruffy young man, and she turned her gaze on the street.

'Uh-oh,' Samantha said.

'What's wrong?' said I.

'Nothing. . .I just got a strange look from that maned young woman in the window. A very strange look.'

Naughty minds

The mulberry tree was thick, but I plunged myself into its foliage and it gave way. Samantha sat crouched in the hollow. She was wearing a white T-shirt that was not small, but nevertheless fit tightly against her chest. She smiled at me. I had to admit she looked all right.

'Hey, Alfie,' she said. 'You look hot today.'

'Thanks,' I said, giving my best saccharine smile. 'So how are your clarinet lessons going?'

'Good,' she said. 'I like to blow long, hard objects.'

'That's nice to hear. And how about the Greek grammar, with your tutor?'

'Boring,' said Sam, 'except for one thing. . .do you know the etymology of the term "gymnasium"?'

I let out a sigh, exasperated. 'You have a one-track mind, don't you, Sam?'

'Yes,' she said, and smiled broadly at me. 'I certainly do.'

A short pause followed. Then, without warning, I pounced on her and pinned her body underneath mine. 'Good. I'm glad. Let's go.'

Through the trees

'See you later.'

I walked away, leaving the tennis ball in the short grass of Smiths's lawn.

The next day, I woke up at seven, under the influence of a nightmare whose content I couldn't quite recall when I awoke. Without eating breakfast or brushing my scruffy brown hair, I went out to the back yard--a long, thin field of grass, bordered by honeysuckle, that seemed to go back and back. I came here when I needed to think.

But this time, before I had gotten more than twenty feet into the yard, a voice said from the bush, 'Ha! Alfie!'

The words seemed to be coming from a mulberry tree that had pushed its way up through the surrounding honeysuckle. 'What? Who is it? Helen? Rebecca? Brunita?'

'I'll give you a hint,' the voice said. '"If you knew half the things I want to do to you. . ."'

'Samantha!' said I. 'What are you doing here?'

'No need to ask,' said she. 'Come in to this tree with me, Alfie. Come inside this tree, and I'll tell you more about those things I want to do to you.'

'Well,' said I. . .