"You have no trouble finding things," she'd said.After they'd climbed out of his car in the office parking lot he'd handed her her glasses.Now, he surprised her by producing a laptop. He took her hand, then her forefinger and ran it across the fingerprint reader. She realized the laptop was hers.She watched the blur of his fingers as he typed quickly for a second, paused, then his hand shifted and he slid his finger over the mouse pad and tapped. She heard the sending mail ding."Honey?" she asked.He closed the laptop and it vanished beside him."What did you send?" she asked."You asked for the afternoon off," he said irritably."Who's joining us?" she asked.His phone rang and he answered it and began to chat. "You see the game last night man? That facemask call! What a fight!"She of course remembered the game, at least the sound of it. She'd been sitting on the floor in the living room, knitting, something she could do automatically by feel, a sweater for her brother for Christmas. Her. Foolish, I know — but such were the thoughts of many silly young girls back then. You see, sex education was something that was still thirty years away. The simple truth was that I had very little idea of what sex really was. Sure, I knew what kissing was and I knew where babies came from. But, as for the specifics, it was all a mystery to me. The extent of my sexual experimentation consisted of an afternoon when I was fifteen years old. That was the day when my closest friend, Laura Wilson, said to me that we needed to practice our kissing skills. She called a boy over from her neighborhood and told him that we both wanted to kiss him. Oh god! Jonathon Perkins! I can still picture him with his red hair and freckles. I just wanted to melt into the ground when Laura told him why she had called him. Before I could so much as bolt and run, Jonathon said that it would be alright with him. The next thing I knew, Laura had grabbed my hand and led the three of us into her garage. The three.
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