“Why don’t you?”

He shook his head. “I’d rather wait. If you don’t mind.”

“Until when?”

“Next time.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“No; I’ll have quizzes to grade tomorrow night.”

“Are you backing off now?”

“Can you meet me for lunch day after tomorrow?”

We set the time and place, and I got up to leave. Before he opened the door, I stood on my toes and put my hands behind his neck.

“How about a down payment?” I said.

His body trembled and his lips quivered against mine. It was the tenderest and most awkward kiss I had ever gotten, and I hung on until he pulled away.

For the next few weeks, Wanda Hoople took up daily residence in my thoughts simply because Frank’s description of her also applied to him. Around me, he was hesitant and timid. I had to reach for his hand when we walked together or take him in my arms when I wanted a kiss. He always waited for me to let him know when I was “free” to see him. And the first time we slept together it was at my insistence.

“I’m not very experienced,” he said, looking away. It was a Satur­day afternoon in August, pouring rain. He had just taken off his wet socks, and I was drying my hair with a towel.

“I don’t want experience. I want you.”

We sat down on the cushions; I leaned over and kissed the arch of his foot.

“We don’t have to do anything,” I said. “We can just lie naked together.”

I stood up and undressed. The look on Frank’s face was almost reverential; for a second, I felt like Botticelli’s Venus on the half shell. When I sat down next to him, he gently pushed my knees up under my chin, held all of me in his arms, and kissed my hair and eyes. Then he released me and stood up. He tried to hide his apprehension as he pulled off the shirt and trousers. When he stuck his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer shorts, he paused and said, “I’m not circumcised.” He said it as though this were equivalent to being a hermaphrodite.

“That’s all right,” I said. “Neither am I.”

It worked. He laughed out loud and pulled off the shorts.

“Why does it bother you?” I asked.

“I’ve heard a lot of women don’t like it. They find it repulsive.”

“I don’t see why.” I reached down and slowly pulled the foreskin back. “Look, it’s like watching something being born.”

“In more ways than one.” He was becoming erect.

The first time we made love, there on the floor, it was awkward but not embarrassingly so. We were both intent upon pleasing each other, but he was too large and I was too tight.

“Can we stop for a while?” I said. “It hurts.”

“Sure. It hurts me too.”

This surprised and pleased me. I had thought anything that hard must be invincible. Knowing that he hurt too made the pain almost pleasurable. We lay back on the cushions and had several glasses of wine.