She was 18 and she loved it when they honked their horns or whistled and never acted like she didn’t; she wore thin-strapped cotton tops that hugged her warm brown shoulders and her breasts, she rolled her cutoff shorts to make them shorter, it was summer and her hair was golden brown.
He was three or maybe four years older but he graduated Central, they knew a lot of the same people, she and her boyfriend bought a quarter-ounce of sinsemilia from him once; she bumped into him that night, really bumped into him coming around the corner and almost didn’t recognize him—black dress pants, white dress shirt, like a waiter at one of those restaurants where the menu’s all in French, the six-pack in his hand was short a beer.
He talked about the new job at the new hotel downtown, how much it paid and how the benefits were good, he joked and said he was a Miller Man but got the Heineken tonight to celebrate. He was cute and she was kinda down, some stupid little thing her boyfriend said, she didn’t know him well but she knew him well enough; he said he had some weed and he said he lived close by, she couldn't hurt his feelings when he asked, just being friendly, if she'd like to come along.
shut up
turn around
never done it this way have you
hurts a little there at first
say you want it
say you need it
dirty bitch
got something for you
turn around
open wide
wider
that's it
yeah
good girl.
Bathroom's right in there, he said, get dressed I’ll take you home—don't take too long, I gotta get to sleep; that new job starts first thing in the morning.
I don’t know why some girls act like they don’t want it.
Good thing you don't act that way, he said, her hair was dark with sweat.
She was 18, it was summer and she shivered.
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