She gave a grin of pure evil. You remembered the chair, and you flushed red.

The waiter came and Jill said, “Just get us bread and salad, we’ll share. And a carafe of Merlot. We’re celebrating.”

“Eat quick,” she said to you when the food came.

She talked a lot, about school and politics. She had strong opinions about everything. She hated Bush and you could see her point. She’d liked Clinton and you’d thought he was full of shit. But you didn’t need weekend seminars to know to shut up about that on a first date. You listened and you watched her beautiful face move.

You held hands on the way back to Jill’s. It was just around the corner. Your whole body was humming. She pushed you into an alley and you kissed. Blood buzzing in your ears, the taste of bread and wine on her lips and tongue. Her breasts pushing against your chest. You grabbed her ass, and she laughed and slipped away, pulling you out of the alley.

Jill winked at the doorman, a big black guy who looked like a linebacker and rolled his eyes like a drag queen. There was this old couple arguing in the elevator, so you didn’t kiss there.

Her apartment was a bedroom with a teddy bear on the bed and poster-sized black-and-white photos on the walls, a living room nook with a couch and a big window, and a kitchenette.

She shucked her tank top and her breasts bounced out. You wanted to touch them, but you just looked. It was like you could feel Sophie’s ghost holding you back, slowing you down. She ran her fingers over her breasts, lifted them up. She bent down and licked her own nipple, and looked at your reaction. She grinned.

You pulled off your shirt. You dropped your pants. You yanked your boxers from around your cock, which was standing at attention.

She grinned more.

She slid her pants and panties off together, and tossed them over the couch. Now all of the Upper West side could see her bare ass if they looked in the window, but you guessed nobody who lives on the twentieth floor worries about shit like that.

Her cunt was just as you imagined it, a low hill, thick black curly hair.

You kissed some more, your cock pushing against her stomach. It felt numb. But the warmth of your belly on hers felt good.

“Eat me,” she said, and she sat back on the couch. She was still wearing the army boots. You knelt down to it.