She was studying me thoughtfully. "You are scared, aren't you?"

"I'm terrified... that I won't be good enough......"

"Thank you," she said. "For being so honest." She reached over and put her hand on my chest. It felt like fire-like electricity. For a moment, all I could feel was that hand, those delicate fingers, the fingernail tracing a circle in the little patch of hair over my breastbone. After a moment, she said softly, "Listen, sweetheart. This isn't an audition. You're not being graded. Let me play Mommy for about two seconds here and I'll tell you something. The only thing that you need to do a good job is enthusiasm. You got that?"

"I've got lots of enthusiasm," I said. "So much so I'm afraid I'm going to burst a blood vessel."

"Good," she said. She shifted her position so we were lying side by side. "There is no right way to do this, Jim-so you can't possibly screw it up. And if you do anyway, I forgive you in advance."

I moved my hand to her breast. She was warm. My hand was cold. I was afraid to move it. I said, "I, uh-I can't help it. I feel like I should ask permission."

She didn't laugh at me. She took my hand in hers and held it. She kissed my fingers. She took a breath and whispered, "Sweetheart, you are so caring-but you have to stop thinking of sex as something you do to another person, and start thinking of it as something that two people share together."

"I'd really like that-" I said. "But I've never experienced it that way."

Lizard's expression remained open. She wasn't judging me. She was just hearing what I had to say. She squeezed my hand again. "Listen to me, stupid-" The way she said it, it was a term of endearment. "I'm going to tell you everything you need to know about sex."

"I don't think we have that much time," I admitted.

"It's all right. There isn't that much you need to know. It'll only take a minute."

She lifted herself up on one elbow and put her finger on my lips. Her fingers were exquisite. I kissed them.

"The only thing in the world that you really own," she began, "is the body that you live in. So that's the only thing you really have to share."

"I never thought of it that way," I said.

"Hush, child-I'm not through. Have you ever noticed that you never go to bed with anyone unless you're interested in their body?"

I nodded.

"Well, nobody ever goes to bed with you either without being interested in your body. Sex is about bodies. Either you like bodies, my dear, or you don't have sex."

"I like bodies," I said. "I like yours." I put out a tentative hand and let my fingers touch her arm.

"And I like yours," she smiled back at me.

"See-" I said, "that's the part I have trouble with. I never knew that."

"I know," she said. "That's why you're such an asshole. Cute, but still an asshole. Why do you have such a low opinion of yourself? Do you know that's an insult to the people you go to bed with? It means you don't think much of their taste either. It also means that you have to con people into your bed, and when you get them there, the best you can do is use them. Here's what I'm trying to tell you, my sweet lover-you can't have good sex with anyone else until you let yourself experience your own wonderfulness."

"My own wonderfulness ... ?" I squeaked. I cleared my throat. "I, uh-always thought that a person should be... um, modest."

"Hmp," she said. "Modesty is the most arrogant form of conceit. Modesty is an excuse to hide yourself, and that rips people off. If you're wonderful-and you are-then, share it. Don't you think people like being around wonderful people? Don't you?"

"Sure. But I'm not-what you said-wonderful."

She sat up and stared at me. "Who made up that shit?"

"Huh?"

"I said, `who made up that shit?' That you're not wonderful. Trust me, sweetheart-you are positively terrific."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"This is making me very uncomfortable-" I said. "Couldn't we just get on with what we set out to do ... ?"

"No, we can't. Not until you let it in. I think you're wonderful." I looked away. She was too beautiful.

She put a hand on my chin and turned my face back to hers. "It's all right for you to think I'm gorgeous, huh? But not for me to think you're terrific?"

"But, I'm not-"

"I. Say. You. Are." Her tone of voice left no room for argument.

"I hear you-" I managed to say.

"Do you? Do you really? You need to let this in, stupid. I don't go to bed with losers. I chose you. Did you ever stop to think why?"

"Bad eyesight?" I joked.

She slapped my face. Hard.

When my vision cleared, I was lying on my back and she was on top of me, glaring down at me. "Now that I have your attention," she said, "-don't ever do that again!"

"Do what?"

"Insult my taste in lovers. You're so busy denying your own sexiness you can't even see how horny I am for you. Will you let it in?" Her face was very close to mine. Her eyes were almost too close to focus on. I felt like I was staring into an abyss that I wanted to jump into.

I wanted to tell her something, but I didn't have the words for it. I wanted to ask for help, but I didn't think she could help me. I felt her fingers on my shoulders. I felt her weight on my chest, her legs around mine. I felt myself stiffening with desire-and I was terrified.

She must have seen it in my eyes. She raised herself up and looked down at me.

"Something's the matter, isn't it? There's something deeper, isn't there?"

"I don't deserve you," I said.

"Of course, you don't," she agreed. "I'm a gift, not a payment."

And then she stopped in mid-thought and studied me. "But you don't know how to enjoy sex, do you?"

I didn't answer. She was right. I'd seen other couples laughing and playing together. I'd always wondered how they managed it. I always felt... left out.

"All right-I give up," she said. "We'll do it your way." Abruptly, she rolled off me and out of bed.

"Where are you going?"

"I'll be right back-"

She padded back in carrying an American flag. Fifty-two stars, thirteen stripes. I remembered there had been a small meeting room next door.

She climbed back into bed and began settling herself with exaggerated care. "I'll tell you what," she said seriously. "I'm going to put this flag over my face-" she pulled it up over her head like a sheet "-and you can do it for love of country." And then she lay there and was very very still.

"What-?"

She didn't answer.

I pulled the flag down off her face. She was grinning up at me. "I don't know what else to do," she said, and pulled the flag back up.

"You come out of there!"

"What's the matter!" Her voice came up through the stars and stripes. "Aren't you patriotic?" She cradled her breasts. "Here-pretend that these are the tits of liberty!" And then she jiggled them.

"Lizard-!"

She jiggled her tits again-harder this time.

"This is not funny!" I said.

The flag started shaking. "Then why am I laughing so hard?" she asked. She was making little squeaking noises in her throat. Her chest shook.

I reached to pull the flag away. She grabbed it and held on. I poked her in the ribs instead. She shrieked and jerked her hands down to her stomach. I reached for the flag-she grabbed it againI gave her another poke in the ribs-and another- "Here! You want patriotism? It's Pearl Harbor Day!" I made explosion noises to punctuate each poke. She yelped each time, but she wouldn't stop giggling-she pulled her knees up to her chest.

I hollered, "Banzaiii!" and smacked her on the bottom!

"Oh, you're gonna get it now-" she started.

"Yeah! You and what army?" I pulled the flag away and poked her again; she doubled up on her side, giggling too hard to resist. I grabbed her and rolled her over on her back. "Tits of liberty, huh? It looks more like the two-party system to me. First I'm going to party here-"