Cruel? Not truly so. A few minutes later I delivered what I had promised. But men are far more timid than we are; sometimes the only way you can get one to move is by placing him in sharpest competition with another male. Even a tabby cat knows that. (By ‘timid' I do not mean ‘cowardly'. A man - what I think of as a man - can face death calmly. But looking ridiculous... such as being surprised in copulation... can distress him to his marrow.)

‘I haven't changed my mind!' Charles was most emphatic.

I gave him my sunniest smile and opened my arms to him. ‘Then come here and kiss me like you mean it!'

He did, and we both caught fire again. (His backing and filling had cooled me.) At that time I had never heard the word ‘orgasm' - I am not sure it had been coined by 1897 - but I had done some private experimenting and I knew that it was possible for something strongly resembling fireworks to happen inside me. By the end of that kiss I felt myself getting close to that point.

I pulled my face away just far enough to murmur against his lips, ‘Dear Charles. I'll take off all my clothes... if you want me to.'

‘Huh? Jeepers, yes!'

‘All right. Do you want to undress me?'

He undressed me, or tried to, while I unfastened ail the snaps and buttons and ties ahead of him. In a few moments I was bare as a frog and ready to burst into flame. I happily struck a pose I had practised and let him look. He stared and caught his breath; I felt a fine tingle deep inside me.

Then I closed in on him and started unfastening his buttons and things. He was shy and I didn't push it. But I did get him to take off his trousers and drawers. I put them on top of mine on the box over the trap door, then sank down on the blankets. ‘Charles -‘

‘Coming!'

‘You have a safe?'

‘A what?'

‘A Merry Widow.'

‘Oh. Gee, Mo, there isn't any way I can buy them. I'm only sixteen. Pop Green is the only one who sells them... and he won't unless you're either married or over twenty-one.' The poor dear looked quite woebegone.

I said quietly, ‘And we aren't married, and don't want to have to get married - not the way Joe and Amelia had to - my mother would have a fit. But... Quit looking grim and hand me my bag.'

He did so, and I got out the condom I had fetched.

‘There are advantages to being a doctor's daughter, Chuck. I swiped this while I was cleaning Father's clinic. Let's see how it fits.' (I wanted to check something else. Having become so acutely conscious of my own cleanliness I had become quite critical of cleanliness in others. Some of my classmates, both sexes, could have used Father's advice and some hot soapy water.)

(I'm a decadent today. The best aspect of Boondock aside from its gender customs is its wonderful plumbing!)

Chuck looked clean and smelled clean - scrubbed as recently as I was, was my guess. A whiff of male musk, but fresh. Even at that age I had learned the difference.

I felt happy and gay. How sweet of him to offer me such a well-kept toy! It was just inches from my face. I suddenly ducked and planted a quick kiss on it.

‘Hey!' Charles almost squealed.

‘Did I shock you, dear? It was just so pretty and sweet that I felt like kissing it. I didn't mean to shock you.' (No, but I do want to find your shock point.)

‘I wasn't shocked. Uh... I liked it.'

‘Cross your heart and shame the Devil?'

‘Yes, indeed!'

‘Good.' I waited while he got ready. ‘Now, Charles. Take me.'

I was clumsy and inexperienced but nevertheless I had to guide him - gently, as his pride had already been hurt once. Charles was even less skilled than I. Probably what he knew of sex came from barber shops and pool halls and behind barns - the ignorant boasts of bachelor males... whereas I had been taught by an old and wise medical doctor who loved me and wanted me to be happy.

I had in my purse a patent medicine, ‘Vaseline', to use as a lubricant if I needed it. Not necessary! -1 was as slippery as boiled flaxseed.

In spite of that - ‘Charles! Please, dear! Take it easy. Not so fast:

‘But I ought to go fast, first push, Mo. It'll hurt you less. Everybody knows that.'

‘Charles, I'm not "everybody°; I'm me. Take it slowly and it won't hurt me at all. I think.' I felt eager, terribly excited, and wanted him deep inside me -but he did feel bigger than I had expected. If didn't really hurt. Or not much. But I knew it could hurt plenty if we did this too fast.

Dear Charles did hold still, his face intent. I bit my lip and tried. And again. At last be was firmly against me and all of him that could reach was inside me.

I relaxed and smiled up at him. ‘There! That's just fine, dear. Now move if you want to. Do it!'

But I had taken too long. He grinned, then I felt a couple of quick twitches and he stopped smiling and looked distressed. He bad spent.

So there weren't any fireworks for Maureen that first trip, and not much for Charles. But I wasn't too disappointed; my prime purpose had been achieved; I was no longer a virgin. I made note to ask Father about how to make it last longer - I was certain that I could have reached those fireworks had I been able to stretch it out a little longer. Then I put it out of my mind and was happy with what I had accomplished.

And started a custom that stood me in good stead for a long lifetime: I smiled up at him and said softly, ‘Thank you, Charles. You were splendid.'

(Men don't expect to be thanked for it. And at that moment a man is always willing to believe any sort of compliment... most especially if he hasn't really earned it and is uneasily aware of his shortcoming. To thank him and compliment him is an easy investment that pays high dividends. Believe me, sister mine!)

‘Gosh, Maureen. You're swell:

‘You are, too, Chuck sweetheart: I hugged him, arms and legs, then relaxed and added, ‘Maybe we had better get up. This floor is hard, even with a doubled blanket'

Charles was quiet while he drove us on into Butler - not at all the suave Don Juan who has just relieved a maiden of that which enriched her not. I was encountering for the first time that tristesse that some males have after intercourse... while I myself was bubblingly happy. I no longer minded that I had missed climax - if I had; I was not sure. Maybe those ‘fireworks' were something one could do only by oneself. We had gotten away with it cold and I felt very grown up. I sat up straight and enjoyed the beautiful day. 1 didn't hurt, not enough to matter.

I think men often feel buffeted by sex. They have so much to lose and we often give them little choice. I am minded of a very odd case that involved one of my grandchildren - how he was pushed around by late and his first wife.

It involved our cat Pixel, too, at that time a small kitten, all fuzz and buzzes.

My grandson, Colonel Campbell, son of my son Woodrow who is also my husband Theodore, but don't let that worry you; Woodrow and Theodore are both Lazarus Long, who is an odd one in any universe - don't let me forget to tell about the time that Lazarus quite unintentionally got three women pregnant at once, a grandmother, her daughter, and her granddaughter... and thereby had to make some unusual arrangements with the Time Corps in order to carry out the first commandment in his own private decalogue, which is: Never leave a pregnant woman to face her destiny unsupported.

Since Lazarus has been knocking them up over centuries in several universes this has taken up quite a bit of his time.

Lazarus quite innocently broke his own first commandment with respect to my grandson's mother, and this mishap resulted indirectly in my grandson marrying my sister wife, Hazel Stone, who was on leave of absence from our family for that purpose... for you see (or perhaps you don't) Hazel had to marry Colin Campbell so that these two could rescue Mycroft Holmes IV, the computer that led the Lunar Revolution on time line three, code ‘Neil Armstrong'. Let's skip the details; it's all in Encyclopaedia Galacta and other books.