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I spent the day thinking about it, working myself into a state of neurotic anxiety. Why was I putting myself through all this? It was as if I had no choice: my desires got the better of my resolution. I felt like a slave to my lust. What was I afraid of, that I would enjoy it? Why would that be bad? Maybe it was because I feared that it would be impossible to resist continuing, but why would that be a bad thing? Why I still experienced these inhibitions I cannot say, but I knew I could force myself to get there, and once there, I would relax, which I did. How could I do this? How could I agree to have sex with not just a man, but a man I hadn’t even met, like some cheap hooker? I used to wonder how women did it and why they did it. Yet here I was, about to do precisely that. I felt enormously conflicted, both driven to see it through, and wanting to run home to safety. The closer I got to his hotel, the more nervous I got. I wanted to turn around. I almost chickened out. Almost.. If they heard their brother through the wall, it was the same.But, for them and the others, the sharing of sexual feelings seemed so much better when a member of the opposite sex was involved. They had sweet orgasms, but those orgasms didn’t quite quell the urge, quite often leaving them still excited. Where once a night had been enough in the past, the desire to feel that sweet release became stronger, and more frequent. In the case of Jesse, his mother came to his bed to see if he was sick, because he was tossing and turning so much in the night. At least that’s what she thought it was. The squeaking of his bed springs couldn’t be anything else, after all.And each day, at school, the girls got to see the boys, and the boys got to see the girls. There were long, lingering looks between some of them, some noticed by the other, and some not. The unfortunate part was that Flossie didn’t recognize what her eyes didn’t try to see.Perhaps “unfortunate” isn’t exactly the right word. It all.
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