I felt faint from the exertion. I lay with my cheek against his, regaining my breath, feeling once again the cold night air. I slowly pulled back and looked down on him, on his face so pale in the muted light. He looked somewhat like Lewis, with dark curly hair hanging over his forehead. I pulled my legs under me and knelt on his chest. The terribly messy wound on his neck oozed as I watched, and I caught one drip with my finger and licked it, then caught another and wiped it gently on the side of his nose. He was beautiful.

My eyelids drooped. I heard some familiar music. I wanted to rest and slide into it, where I would be tended and cared for. I needed to lie down, snuggled up to this beautiful person, this wonderful Adonis with the fragile face, and sleep the restful sleep with him. I felt warm and cozy and loved. Complete.

But the ground was hard, and the air was cold, and there were two men waiting for my fair and handsome prince to return to them. They would come here, looking for him.

With a mighty effort, I shook the webs of sleep from me, kissed the beautiful one on the lips and stood, looking down on him. His lips were red where I had kissed him; with his pale cheeks and dark hair, he looked as an English schoolboy ought to look.

I loved him.

I don’t recall getting home, but home I was, when I awoke with the music in my ears, surrounded by the loving feeling of being enwombed, tended, nourished, fed. I awoke and arose as if I were floating, gliding across the garish orange carpet of Lewis’s home, which was somehow less objectionable today. I could recall every event of the evening before, all but my transportation home, and it was all an unbelievable adventure.

Wait until Lewis hears about this, I thought to myself, and then I realized I could never tell Lewis, or anyone else. It was a secret. This idea of such a wonderful game being such furtive stuff made me giggle into my hand, and I noticed the clock said two o’clock in the afternoon, so I went to bathe and make ready for the coming night.

Friday night.

Teen dance night at the VFW hall.

“That Friday, I couldn’t keep my mind on the job, all I could think about was the dance. I’d been helping to put on those teen dances since I was sixteen—Jesus, eight years now—then when Bill got old enough and interested enough, he began helping. They’re good fun, and it’s a nice clean place for the kids to go and get together. I always enjoy it. But that Friday . . . that Friday . . .