I wiped my wet soapy hands on my trousers and grabbed his finger, his skin was so soft and warm, the tendons in the back of his hand endlessly fascinating, there was still some paint underneath his nails. ‘I... I’m Roger.’ I stumbled. I giggled hysterically for a moment and made a complete fool out of myself. ‘Nice to meet you Roger, how’s your banana doing?’ My cheeks flushed, was that gay code? Was he asking me about my cock? Did he see me escaping the classroom with a bulge in my pants and did he follow me here to do gay things with me? For a moment I hoped so. I knew nothing about the gay community, but having sex in a bathroom stall, that was a thing, right? That happened in movies. ‘I...’ I didn’t really know what to say. ‘My.... a...’ ‘I mean, the apples have those shiny skin, so it’s quite easy to paint the reflective light, but the banana has a much more nuanced lightning gradient, isn’t it?’ ‘Yeah.’ I said. ‘Yes. I mean... so nuanced.’ ‘Exactly. See you in. Miles suggested some simple white ones with polka dots which Mrs. Dupree thought were very pretty but a bit young for her so they bought them for Sophie. As they sat down for coffee, Mrs. Dupree thanked Miles for helping her and they started chatting. They both realized they shared a lot of common interests, and the conversation flowed easily. Although well into her 50s Mrs. Dupree was by no means elderly. When she talked about music or travel she simply sparkled. “Miles... May I ask you a question?” “Oh dear!” replied Miles, his face sinking. “Really, it’s nothing to be worried about, and I wouldn’t want to embarrass you. It’s just...” “No, no, it’s quite alright, ask away.” “It’s just that when we punished you... I think you felt much better for it?” Miles tried to formulate a sensible answer and tripped over his words eventually settling on a simple, “Yes”. “That’s okay.” Mrs. Dupree gave a reassuring smile and squeezed Miles’s hand. “Do you think boys who get caught.
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