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ALEXANDRA girls think 8 year old boys are toads


This is a work of fiction. This never happened. This is not biography.
Well, a little of it sort of happened in a roundabout way. But most of it
is fiction, especially the ending.

However, deep inside the heart, soul, and essence of Alexandra lurks the
essence of a girl I once knew, a long time ago. This is for her.

ALEXANDRA By Frank Downey




Well, don't all 8-year-old boys think all six-year old girls are brats?
And don't 6-year-old girls think 8-year-old boys are toads? Well, most of
them, anyway. That's my experience.

And those were our respective ages when Alexandra's family moved in next
door to mine. I was 8, she was 6. However, I don't remember ever calling
her a brat. And I don't remember her calling me a toad. That was her twin
sister Cheryl, who still is a brat and probably still considers me a toad.

Alex was different. There were four girls in that family, and they all
competed for attention. Alex and Cheryl were the oldest, followed by
Andrea, who was 4 that first summer, and Jennifer, who was 3. I always
felt bad for their Dad, Mr. Callaghan, the poor guy was outnumbered.

Alexandra and Cheryl were fraternal twins. If you didn't get that just
by looking at them, you'd figure it out after spending seven seconds with
them. Cheryl was the boisterous one. The younger ones seemed to take
Cheryl as a role model. Like I said-competing for attention. Alex didn't
do that. She went and sat in the corner. So, it was probably no surprise
that I-the most introspective male 8-year-old you ever met-noticed Alex

I don't remember all that much about the first couple of years I knew
them, but I have a vivid memory of a few years later. I was 11, Alex was
9. The neighborhood crew I ran with was in their backyard, and we were
playing tag, or something. Something loud, with Cheryl organizing and
yelling and pontificating, as usual. And I remember Alex, sitting by
herself in the corner, reading. The rest of the crew badgered her, telling
her that she should play with us, but she refused. I admired her for it.
Me? Oh, I was playing tag. An eleven-year-old boy, who'd rather read in
the corner than get dirty? Well, yeah, actually, I was. But that day, I

The next time I saw her in the corner of the yard, reading, I grabbed my
latest and went to join her. The crew happened upon us shortly thereafter,
organizing a game of something. I turned them down. And you can bet I got
a boatload of shit for it. I also got a sweet little smile from Alex.
That offset the razzing, and then some.

I also remember, about a year later, getting my first kiss from her. It
was in a game of Truth or Dare, where Alex had the dare, and Cheryl-of
course-dared her to kiss me. She blushed, but she did it. It was warm,
and sweet, and soft, and made me all tingly. But that was it.

--TwoAlex and I were always friends, of a certain sort. We weren't
go-out-and-do-something friends. We were, if you're on your porch I'll
come chat with you friends. We still occasionally read together. That
sort of thing.

I suppose it started to change a little the summer before my junior year
in high school, which was the summer before Alexandra's freshman year. I
went to a private high school, but she was going to attend the local public
one. I turned 16 that summer, just after Alex turned 14. We both had
summer jobs. And, it seemed that our schedules somehow coincided a lot, as
we used to arrive home at the same time quite a bit.

It just seemed natural to settle on one or the other's front porch for a
chat. The chats got longer, and longer. We'd sit there for hours, just
talking. We'd talk about our jobs. I'd talk about high school. She'd
talk about being worried about high school, mainly because of Cheryl, who
was blonde and was well on her way to being a candidate for a Playboy
centerfold, and who flirted with anything in pants. Alex was described by
most people as "cute". She was introverted. Under the glaring light of
Cheryl, she could feel like a gnat. I think I was the first person she
discussed this with. It worried her.

I know I was the first person she ever showed her short stories to. And
she was the first person that I shared my poems and songs with. And, I
made her laugh. Alex *never* laughed. Smile, sure. Chuckle, giggle,
yeah. But not *laugh*. I was doing an impression of a customer that had
been in the store I worked in, and she started howling. Great big belly
laughs. I found, over the summer, that I made her laugh quite a bit.
Nobody else could. It was nice to be able to do that.

When school started, our nighttime chats became less frequent. That was
by necessity. My workload was brutal, hers only slightly less so. But, we
still made sure to hook up a couple times a week for a talk. Her worst
fears about Hurricane Cheryl were coming true-she was often left in her
wake. I tried to reassure her.

It helped that she got asked out on a couple of dates. She had a few
short-lived boyfriends that year. I had a girl that I dated most of the
fall and into the winter. And we'd talk about that, too. That was
actually rather humorous. These relationships were typical high-school
stuff-rocky as a dinghy in an ocean storm. I'd complain about Marie, and
Alex would say, "I'd never do that to you." She'd complain about one of
hers, and I'd say, "What a jerk. Doesn't he know how to treat a girl like
you?" I suppose, if we had been older, we could have read the signs better.
But we didn't.


Anyhow, by the time winter turned to spring, both of us were, again,
unattached. And complaining to one another about it. However, I had a
bigger problem. There, looming in the not-distantenough distance like a
great big anxiety attack, was one of the prime milestones (or millstones)
of a High School Junior's existence: The Prom. And I *had* to go. Tiger
and Bill would never let me forget it if I didn't.

Tiger and Bill? They were my best friends, almost from the very start
of freshman year. The three of us were tighter than an overtuned guitar
string. The Three Musketeers. The Three Stooges. Huey, Duey, and Louie.
Kirk, Spock, and McCoy. The Beatles, minus Ringo. That was us.

And they were going to the prom, and would take it as a personal affront
if I were not there with them. After all, what are Moe and Larry without
Curly? The Beatles could live without Ringo, but John? I tried to point
out to them that if they included their dates they could be all *four*
Beatles, but that didn't wash. It was The Event of The Year. The Third of
Three was expected to be there.

Easy for them to say. They had dates. They had girlfriends, actually.
I had nothing, and time was a-gettin' on. And no *way* was I going stag.
Then Tiger made the suggestion: "Hey, you don't need to be in love to go to
the prom. Why don't you ask one of the neighborhood girls you run with?
You know, just as friends."

It was a capital idea. Now, I knew who Tiger had in mind-a couple of
the girls from up the street that I ran with. He knew them. And, yes, one
or two of them would be glad to go, as long as I did the whole "just as
friends" preamble. One, in particular, I knew would go and that I would
have a good time with.

But I didn't ask her, because Tiger's innocent suggestion had made me
think of something completely different. I didn't ask any of the girls up
the street. I asked Alexandra.

And there was no preamble. No qualifications. I just asked her, "Alex,
would you go to my prom with me?" And she said, "Yes." And smiled.

It's funny-walking back to my house, I wasn't filled with relief that I
had finally gotten a date for the prom and Bill and Tiger would get off my
back. All I could think of was-how the hell did I not notice before this
how pretty she is when she smiles?


The prom was just fine, fine, fine. The six of us did the whole limo
bit. I went over to get Alex before the limo showed up, and, when she
walked out of the house, she took my breath away. The shoulder-length
ringlets of dark brown curls she had had since she was six were piled up on
her head. Her lightly applied makeup-which she *never* wore-accented the
twinkle in her chocolate brown eyes. Her eyes. HER EYES! I had known her
since she was SIX how on EARTH had I never noticed her eyes before? The
lavender dress was fairly low-cut. Since when did Alex have cleavage? She
was very petite-always had been-but she filled out her dress just fine,
thank you very much. And then that smile again. Did the little girl next
door, my pal, my chat buddy, change overnight? Or had I finally woken up?

All four parental units took copious amounts of pictures. I was glad,
glad, glad. I wanted copies. I was going to carry a few around with me,
and the next jerk that called Cheryl "the pretty twin" and Alex "the smart
twin" was gonna get an eyeful of THIS. Not that I'd blame them for not
noticing. It had only taken me nine years, right?

We piled in the limo. There with Tiger and Bill and their dates, Alex's
innate shyness asserted itself. Luckily, not for long. I had warned the
guys that she might go into a shell at first. Hey, they're good guys.
They're my best friends. They and their dates helped me draw her out. I
performed my special magic trick-I made her laugh-and she found a second
person that could make her laugh-Tiger. Tiger can make a fencepost bark
like a seal. Both of their dates were sweet, and much bonding commenced.
By the time we arrived at the prom, Alex had discarded her shell for the
duration and the Three Amigos (plus female accompaniment) were ready for a

And a Time we did have. We ate. We danced. Tiger and I made Alex
laugh until she cried. We badgered the DJ to play Born to Run so Bill and
I could sing it Really Really Loud while making an effort to look like we
were trying to dance. This made Alex laugh, too. Then we danced some

There was, of course, an after-prom party. We had the limo until the
wee hours, so what did we care? I accepted a beer (a very rare event.)
Alex accepted a wine cooler (an unheard of event-in fact, it was her
first.) We didn't drink enough to get drunk, but we got happy. Somehow-I
don't even remember how-we ended up on a couch with my arm around her and
her head snuggling into my chest. It just seemed the natural thing to do
when I put my hand under her chin, tilted it upward, and leaned down to
kiss her. It seemed just as natural when I did it again, a few minutes
later. And again. And it seemed just as natural, when I took her home,
standing on her porch, to wrap my arms around her-as she wrapped hers
around me-and *really* kiss her.

--FiveSo, that's where It All Started, right? Well, not exactly. For a
while, it seemed like we were both scared that what had happened that night
was due to Prom Pixie Dust and couldn't be recreated in the real world, or
something like that.

But *something* had definitely happened. Not only did our porchside
chats increase in frequency-and length-now, it seemed like we were always
doing something together. If I was going to the store, it seemed natural
to go over and ask her if she wanted to go. If she was going to the ice
cream stand, it was natural to ask me. If I wanted to go for a drive, I
grabbed her. Movies? Shopping? We'd always see if the other wanted to
go. And, it was natural that, when I scored two very coveted tickets to see
Bruce Springsteen in concert, I asked her to go with me.

It was Springsteen that did it. First of all, there was absolutely no
logical reason why I should have asked Alex to go with me. I had plenty of
BossManiac friends that would have cut off an arm for that ticket-I don't
think Bill has forgiven me yet-and I decide to ask Alex, who had only the
slightest inkling who Bruce Springsteen even was. Her musical tastes ran
to Irish folk music, and classical. I told myself that I was doing it to
initiate the unaware. That, although it might be fun to attend with
someone else who knew all the words to Darkness on the Edge of Town and
wasn't shy about singing along, it would be more fun to suck an unwary
nonbeliever into the Church of Bruce. While there was a kernel of truth in
that, it wasn't the real reason. And it certainly wasn't the reason she
eagerly agreed to go.

Somehow, it had happened that, if I was going somewhere, I wanted her
along-and she wanted to go with me. And, if she were going somewhere, she
wanted me along-and I wanted to go with her. The destination was almost
unimportant. And this little fact of life had snuck up on us so gradually
that neither of us had even realized it yet.

Anyhow, there we were, seeing "BROOOOOOOOOCE SPRINGTEEEEN...AND THE E!
STREET! BAAAAAAANNNND!!!!!!" on their tour in 1980, supporting The River
album (still my favorite.) It was stupendous. It was mind-boggling. It
was The Greatest Show On Earth. I knew all the words. I sang along. I
shouted myself hoarse. Alex? She started the night with a "So what's this
Bruce thing all about, anyway?" look on her face. By the time they did
"Rosalita" she was standing on a chair. Yelling a lot. I knew the words,
she didn't, so when they did "Thunder Road", I made sure I sang the "Show a
little faith, there's magic in the night" line right at her. Because it
was true. And I was rewarded with That Smile. Times ten.

She babbled the whole ride home about how great it was. Another convert
for BossMania. I walked her to her porch, and, instead of running in the
door, she grabbed me. And kissed me, long and deep. I was breathless-and
I know she was, too.

Bruce Pixie Dust? I hoped not. This time I was going to test the
theory. Well, first, I had to make sure the convert was taken care of, so
I went out the next day, headed to the record store, and bought Alex a
complete collection of Bruce. I presented them to her, she squealed
delightedly, kissed me again-and slammed the door in my face. And
sheepishly opened it a second later, inviting me in to listen with her. I
laughed, let her go explore the Majesty of Bruce by herself, and told her
I'd see her later.

It was that night, on my porch, one of our chat sessions. Except there
wasn't much chatting. I pulled her close, and kissed her. And kept
kissing her. We broke the kiss, and I could feel her breath on my cheek.
She reached down and planted little kisses on my neck. I entwined my
fingers in her curls. She rubbed my back. Then she looked in my eyes
again, and I kissed her again.

I think that one lasted about three weeks.

When we finally broke the kiss, and caught our breath, Alex leaned over
and whispered in my ear, "My God, I've never been kissed like that in my

I just laughed. Then, she grabbed my face in her hands, looked into my
eyes, and said, "So, are you going to do it again, or do I have to beg?" I
didn't waste any time.

We necked for a while. It was glorious. Then she had to go inside.


The next afternoon, Alex came and knocked on the door. I opened it for
her, and she walked right past me into the kitchen, grabbed my car keys off
the table, handed them to me, and said, "Let's go for a ride."

We drove for a bit, and then she said, "Just exactly what happened last

"Well, you *were* there. And it seemed to me that you were a willing

She giggled. "Very willing. But, what I meant was, is something
happening between us?"

"That's a question, isn't it? Well, from my end there is."

"FINALLY!" She yelled.


"Well, I was thinking about it, and I realized something. I think I've
only admitted it to myself recently, but...I've been in love with you since
that Truth or Dare game."

I think I just about drove off the road. I managed to control myself,
and pulled into the first parking lot I could find. I found an
out-of-the-way spot, turned to her, and said, "You *are* kidding."

"Oh, it just dawned on me recently. But, think about it. You're tne
only guy I know who's like me. You're sweet, you're kind. You make me
laugh. When I'm with you, I'm happy. You make me feel whole. And I
couldn't really define it until now, but I've known it since I was ten.
And, I think I've been waiting for you to do what you did last night for a
very long time."

"Oh, man."

"Don't worry, Chris, you're timing's perfect. I probably would have run
screaming out of sheer terror if you had done that any earlier, no matter
how much I wanted you to."

I laughed. "Well, I'm slow on the uptake. It took me until the first
time I made you laugh."

"That long ago? Why didn't you say something?"

"Why didn't YOU say something?"

We looked at each other. And cracked up laughing. "We're quite a pair,
aren't we?" I said.

"Yup. See-we even get terrified together, without even knowing it."

I took a deep breath. "I love you, Alexandra."

"I love you, too, Christopher."

That was all that needed to be said. From that moment on, we were A
Couple. It was understood.


Actually, considering we had been close to inseparable for some time by
then, not much changed. Except, when we walked to the store, we held
hands. When we grabbed a couch and a couple of books to read, we did so
with her head in my lap. And we still talked-we just kissed a lot more in
between sentences.

I suppose the proof was late that summer, when she had a penpal that she
had corresponded with for years come to visit for the first time. She was
from Ireland, and she came over for a couple weeks. Alex introduced me to
her as "Chris, my boyfriend." That made it official.

Of course, there were a few other changes in our relationship. Alex was
a Good Girl, I had known that from the start. Virginity was saved for the
wedding night. Of course, there's a huge gulf between kissing and
intercourse, but I was unsure how much of that gulf she was willing to
traverse. We never talked about it. I was unsure when it came to that. I
suspected that I was her first *real* kiss, and I knew for a fact that she
had never been touched. To be honest, both of those statements were true
of me, also. It was the blind leading the blind.

To this day, neither of us knows if she sent out a subtle sign that I
caught, or if I just guessed right, but, one day, in October, we were
kissing. She was sitting indian-style on the couch, facing me, and I was
twisted, half facing her, and our lips were locked. I had my hand resting
lightly on her stomach, and I just slid it up. I half-expected her to
remove it. She didn't. She sighed, and pressed her torso forward, as if
to increase the pressure my hand was putting on her breast. So I did it
for her-pressing against her breast through her shirt and bra. She
practically stuck her tongue down my throat, and then she broke the kiss,
concentrating on what I was doing to her breasts. She leaned back, so I
could get my other hand up there. She sighed contentedly and gave me a
smile, different than her usual one-but just as good.

After I was done, she looked up at me with those shining eyes, and said,
"Oh, goody. Another way to make me feel good. You just keep coming up
with those, sweetie."

From there, things progressed rapidly. The next night, out parking, I
had her shirt completely off. A couple nights after that, she shocked me
by reaching for my belt buckle, while I had contemplated trying to get in
*her* pants. There had been a limit she had set, but, beyond that, she was
willing to try anything..

As I quickly found out, when she engulfed my member in her mouth. I was
shocked. Stunned. And harder than I had ever been in my life. I had
jerked off, of course. What teenaged boy doesn't? But, that was nothing
like *this*. She was inexperience, unpracticed, and I had to hiss `Watch
the teeth!' once. But it didn't matter. It was fantastic. She was
fantastic. After a couple of false starts, she was bobbing her head up and
down like someone who had actually done this before. I felt my climax
building, warned her, she ignored me, and I came-in a torrent-right into
her mouth. I was more shocked and more stunned.

She climbed up next to me in the back of my station wagon, a little
satisfied smile on her face. "Well, that's a bit of a different taste. I
think I like it, though."

I stared at her. "Alex, you amaze me."

"What, you think us shy, demure virgin types don't get horny?" she

"Oh, I get it. You just did that to me so I'd return the favor," I
teased her.

She blushed. "Oh, no, Chris..I didn't, I've always wanted to do
that for, I didn't expect..."

"Relax," I interrupted. "Do you think I have even the slightest problem
with returning the favor? Lie back."

I pulled off her pants and panties, and got my first ever look of a
girl's pussy. I worshiped it. I worshiped her. And then, I worshiped
her, and it, with my tongue. I'm a pussy addict. My favorite
participatory sport is cunnilingus. And it all started that night.

I found her clit and massaged it. I ran my tongue up and down her
pussy. Her heavy breathing got ragged, and then turned into little squeals.
Then she came, bouncing up and down so hard she almost broke my nose. Not
that I would have minded-or noticed, for that matter.

"Nnnnnnnngggggggggggg..." was the first thing that came out of her mouth
after she recovered the ability to breathe. Her eyes fluttered open, and
she saw me there, grinning at her.

"Y'know," she said. "I've had orgasms before. Playing with myself.
But never, ever, ever like THAT."

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing a couple minutes ago."

That opened the floodgates. We became the First Couple of Oral Sex and
Mutual Masturbation. The barrier was still down on the other thing, but
who *cared*? And there were chips in that barrier. "I'm waiting until I'm
married" gradually became "I'm waiting until I'm ready." So, ready could
mean tomorrow, it could mean three years from now. As long as I got to
worship that beautiful pussy of hers, I could wait until the earth spun off
its axis, for all I cared. And she knew that. The sex was great because
it was based on trust. You don't have sex with someone two to three times
a week and not ever have actual intercourse unless you trust that person
completely. She knew I respected that barrier, and would never attempt to
tear it down.

It wasn't all sex, it's just that the sex was new. You don't start a
relationship with someone you've been friends with for nine years and have
it just based on sex-it's impossible. I knew Alex, inside and out, and she
knew me. We studied together. We went for walks, or drives. We tried to
go out to eat at least once a week. We still read together, her lying on
the couch, head on my lap. It was, looking back now on it, idyllic. I
spent a lot of my senior year in high school with Alex.

Of course, there was a looming problem.


--eightI had started looking at colleges the previous year. I thought I
might want to get away. We lived in the northeast, and there was a school
in the Midwest that I took a liking to. This school was my first choice
before Junior year ever ended. By the time it came time to actually apply
to colleges, my life had changed. Alex, of course, wasn't going anywhere.
She still had two years of high school left to go.

She encouraged me. My reasons for getting away were valid, and she
thought it would be a good thing. I applied to some local schools, and got
into them, but also got into the one in the Midwest. Alex told me, "If
it's meant to be, then it's meant to be. I fully plan on being here
waiting for you when you get back." So, I decided to go.

But that was six months away, and now was all about Alex. We had a
wonderful first Christmas. I flooded her room with flowers on Valentine's
Day. She baked soda bread and made Irish stew and took me to a step
dancing festival for St Patrick's day. We studied, listening to
Springsteen. We fooled around in the back of my station wagon. We'd leave
silly notes in each other's mailbox. She told me her dreams, and I told
her mine, and we found out that we were each in the other's.

And, of course, there was another Prom. The Biggie, the Senior prom.
There was no scrambling for a date this year. Tiger and Bill still had the
same girlfriends, so it was the same cast of characters, The Three plus
Three. And, instead of ending with a first soul-kiss on a front porch, it
ended up with me waking up next to Alex in a hotel room we had rented. We
had fallen asleep after a wonderful couple hours of Everything But. That's
right, I slept with her without *sleeping* with her. Waking up next to
her, seeing her beauty in the morning light, was worth the price of

It was a wonderful summer after that. Knowing that I was going away in
the fall, we spent as much time as possible together that summer. My Dad
made a joke about wondering if we went to the bathroom together.

The week before I left, she offered "it" to me. But it was halfhearted.

"Y'know," she said, "I've been thinking about letting you have my
virginity before you leave."

"Do you want to?"

"Part of me does. Really bad, as a matter of fact."

"I can understand that. But I'm not taking it until *all* of you wants

She sat for a minute, then just looked up at me and said, "I love you.
When I do give it away, it's yours. I promise. And I don't think you'll
have to wait too much longer."

A week later, I was a thousand miles away.


I liked school. I liked being away from home. I made a lot of new
friends. I enjoyed seeing another part of the country. It was cool.

But I missed Alex.

I met Karen. We became fast friends. When I got to know her I found
out that she was.unusual. She was practically a nympho, with a special
fetish for taking guys' virginity. She found out I was cherry, and put the
full court press on. I told her, "sorry, I'm saving that for Alex." She
teased me mercilessly, and then told me that it was the sweetest most
romantic thing she had ever heardand then went back to teasing me
mercilessly about it. I didn't mind. We were good friends. She really
did respect my decision-despite the teasing-and she was a great kid, lots
of fun to be with. I arranged to have her pluck my roommate, who was very
nice to me for a week afterwards.

And, I wrote a lot of letters. I pretty much kept a diary of my life
the first half of that first semester, but I didn't put in in a notebook. I
put it in an envelope and mailed it to Alex. She did the same. I ran to
the mailbox every day. I know she did, too. We talked on the phone once a
week, on Sunday night. It usually spilled over into the wee hours of
Monday morning.

The letters got a little less frequent around the end of October. I
didn't mind, really. Writing the kinds of letters we were writing was time
consuming, and we had work to do. The tone of the letters never changed.
Our phone conversations never changed.

Until Thanksgiving Day. I couldn't come home for Thanksgiving-not
enough money, not enough time. I called her on the day, and got her right
in the middle of the meal. Normally, that wouldn't have been much of a
problem. However, she sounded distracted-and I could hear Cheryl yelling
in the background, "Did you tell him yet? Did you tell him?" I asked what
that was all about, and she made something up. She cut the call off in
record time, promising to call me back later. She never did.

Three days later, I got The Letter.

There was another guy. She had met him through Cheryl. Now, you have
to understand about Cheryl. Cheryl changed boyfriends like most people
changed socks. She also gave most of them what they were most interested
in. And she hated the whole Chris-and-Alex thing. She constantly badgered
her sister about "throwing her youth away" tied down in a serious
relationship-now, a long-distance serious relationship. I also believe she
was jealous. I know for a fact that she was a shrew. She'd like nothing
better than to break Alex and I up. With me a thousand miles away, she saw
her opportunity.

So, Alex had been dating this guy for about a month. Now, we had no
problem with that. I pretty much "dated" Karen at school. We went out all
the time. Neither Alex nor I expected the other to spend our time apart
walled up like hermits. I had no problem with her dating.

I had a big problem with her surrendering her virginity to someone that
wasn't me.

She was lonely, and horny, so she let him get a little physical. Then
she let him get a lot physical. Then he was over her, insistent, begging,
and she was saying "no, no, no" and all of a sudden she found herself
saying "yes".

Oh, she was pushed. No doubt about it. Do you think I couldn't have
pushed her? After all our times of mutual gratification, don't you think
that barrier of hers was paper-thin? It was. It would have only taken the
slightest push on my part, and it would have crumbled. I had known that
for close to a year. I swore to myself I would never do that.

And now, someone else had.

She had surrendered her virginity. And mine was still ingloriously

The rest of the letter trailed off into tear stains, half scribbled
apologies, pleas for forgiveness, etc, etc. When I read the letter some
time later, I realized that she never did say that she wanted to break up.
She also hinted that this guy had been pushed right out of the picture shortly after the Event. But, I didn't pick up that subtext right away,
that first time I read it. I took it as a breakup. And a horrible,
agonizing betrayal.

I reacted maturely, calmly, completely in control of my emotions.
Right? Who am I kidding. I was eighteen years old. I LOST it.

Tore my half of the room apart. Screamed. Cried. Called her every
nasty name I could think of, in every language that I knew them, and even
made up a few of my own. Then I had one of my ofage floormates buy me a
bottle, and I got toasted. Then, I called Karen.

That was a no-brainer. I was betrayed. I was horny. Karen was
willing. She was surprised. Thought I was saving myself for Alex. "Yeah,
and I thought Alex was saving herself for me. I was wrong." I showed her
the letter. Karen, bless her heart, knew this was a revenge-fuck, and
still didn't mind. She told me she'd help me out.

It was good. She was great. The girl had talent, no doubt about it.
The orgasms were fantastic. She knew what she was doing. But it wasn't
what I had expected. It wasn't profound. The earth didn't move. The
stars didn't realign themselves. Hey, I enjoyed myself. It was a lot of
fun, Karen made sure of that. I was satiated, completely.

But I wasn't content. Because it wasn't Alex.


I spent the next week in a fog. Then I got a surprising phone call.

It was from Andrea, the middle Callaghan sister.

Andrea had started life trying to be Cheryl Two, and quickly found that
that didn't completely work for her. She was still boisterous, fun-loving,
the life of the party, but she had avoided becoming a manipulative
contemptible bitch. She was a good kid. She and Alex never quite
understood one another, but I helped, because I loved Alex and was
inordinately fond of Andrea. I considered her the kid sister I didn't
have, and she felt the same way. And, despite their wildly different
personalities, there *was* a bond, a strong one, between Andrea and Alex.

Which is why Andrea called me. She was worried about her sister. She
had managed to drag the whole story out of Alex.

"Chris, it's Andi. Look, you've got to *do* something!"

"What do you want me to do, kid?"

"I don't know, but *something*. Alex can't eat. She can't sleep.
Cheryl is walking around here like the cat that ate the fucking canary, and
I want to shove my fist down her throat. And Alex is a walking pile of
depression. She reads your letters and cries. She looks at your picture and cries. My parents, as usual, are oblivious. But, Chris, right now she
*hates* herself. How can you keep getting up in the morning if you hate

"Andi, you know what happened?"

"Yeah. And I know you must have been devastated. But, dammit, Chris,
she is too. I know she did this. I know it was her fault. I also know if
there was any way to take it back, she would. I also know she still loves
you. And I know *damn* well that you still love her."

"Yeah, I do." I took a deep breath. "Look, Andi, I need a sign from
her. Something. Doesn't have to be big. But I need something. I need her
to take the first step, even if it's a baby one."

"I'll work on it."

It took a week for Andi to bolster Alex's courage, but a week later,
there was a card in my box. It was a small one, which said "Thinking of
You" on the outside. Inside, she had written,

My dearest Christopher,

Words can not say how sorry I am. I can only hope that someday you can
forgive me Please don't hate me, because I love you, And I always will.


I read it, and read it, and reread it again. I think I hugged it a
little bit. Then, I composed my reply. Since I was flying home in a week
for Christmas break, I kept mine short and simple. I just didn't want to
leave her hanging until I returned. I bought a small card, and wrote,

Alexandra, my love,

If love exists, All things are possible. Does love still exist? It
does here.

See you in a week.



I got off the plane, and looked for my parents. They knew the flight,
the time, all that, and were coming to pick me up. Or so I thought.
Unbeknownst to me, Alex had gotten her driver's license two weeks before.
Also unbeknownst to me, she had convinced my mom to perform a Switcheroo.

I spotted her first, and my heart skipped a beat. I think I thought she
was an illusion at first, since I wasn't expecting her to be here. She was
looking in the other direction, and didn't see me coming. I think I ran. I
dropped my carry-ons, picked her up, swung her around, and held on for dear
life. As a reward, I got The Smile, and then I got a hot, heavy,
weak-in-the-knees soul kiss in the middle of thousands of people in a busy

We talked on the way home. Then-since it was too cold on the porch-we
went to my room at home and talked some more. I forgave her before she
asked me to. I told her about Karen, and she said she understood. She
cried, I cried, we held each other, and we kissed a lot.

I had made an appointment with one of the local colleges to inquire
about transferring. It looked like it would be completely doable. Alex
was a little upset, because she was afraid that I was transferring home
because I didn't trust her any more.

"Not at all," I told her. "It's got nothing to do with trust. It's got
everything to do with love. I just can't bear to be that far away from you
anymore." That, she wholeheartedly agreed with.

Christmas Eve, Tiger and Bill came over. Their previous girlfriends had
been high school flings, so they showed up with their new college girlfriends. I was still with Alex. Thank God. The girls were very
sweet, there was more bonding, and we ended up drinking too much eggnog and
going out around my neighborhood singing Christmas Carols. We weren't that
bad. Heck, if we had been sober, we might have even remembered all the
words. People threw money-or tomatoesand the proverbial Good Time Was Had
By All. Alex and I exchanged gifts at midnight.

And, for New Year's weekend, my parents went away.

Alex came over on New Year's Eve. I made spaghetti with marinara
sauce-Mom's recipe always works-and we broke into my parents' wine stash.
We ate, we drank, we talked. And then I took her upstairs.

It started like it always had. I took her shirt off, and played with
her sensitive breasts. She was fairly small, but that was OK, because I
had found I could fit almost a whole breast in my mouth and still tease the
nipple with my tongue, a little maneuver that drove Alex wild.

Then, I moved down. Boy, had I missed worshiping her this way. She was
soaked. It was heavenly. I curled my tongue into a little funnel and
probed her entrance. I brought my tongue up and down her pussy lips and
flicked it at her clit. Then I settled in on her clit, and started moving
a finger in and out of her hole. She went wild-even for her-thrusting her
hips at my finger and face. She gasped. She moaned. She gripped the
sheets, then gripped my head, practically tearing a couple clumps of hair
out. Did I mind? Are you kidding? It was fantastic. She had never been
all that verbal, but, when she came, I got a very satisfying
"oooooOOOOOOOOOOYYEEEEEE!" from her.

I crawled up beside her, and she pulled me into her. "Chris, I want you
to make love to me. I need you to. I need you to make the hurt go away. I
need you to make it all better. I need you. I need you in me, I need it
so bad.."

"Sweetheart, you don't have to beg."

She smiled at that, but kept it up as I adjusted myself, murmuring,
"..need you.I need my love inside me..need it so bad..oh I need it..."

She got it. It took some effort. She was tight. It was worth the
effort. I finally got myself buried to the hilt, and rested for a minute.
She looked up at me, and gave me That Smile. Times a million.

I gathered her up to me, and started moving, in and out. This was so
intense, and it was my second time, and I had no illusions about how long
it would take. Not very.

Alex lowered her face to my neck, kissing it lightly, as I gently thrust
in and out of her. Then she moved her lips up to my ear, and whispered.
"Oh, my love, I waited so long for this. This feels so right.oh, I needed
you so bad..I could do this forever."

I chuckled and whispered back. "Unfortunately, *I* can't."

She giggled, and said, "It's OK. I don't mind. I already had one.
It's your turn." Her breath was getting more and more ragged. "It's OK,
Chris. cum inside me. I want you to. cum for me, Chris." By this time,
her words were punctuated by gasps, and I knew she was getting close, but I
just couldn't hold out. I did what she told me to do. I came,
spectacularly, up inside her.

As I lie on top of her, still buried in her, I realized something. I
was still hard.

She realized it, too. "Hmmm," she giggled, "seems to me like somebody's
not done yet."

"Alex, you're a miracle worker," I said. She giggled again. "Let's try
something." Without disengaging, I put my arms around her back, and rolled
us over.

"Hmm. This is interesting," she mused. She adjusted her legs and arms
to get some leverage. She ended up sitting up straight, hands on my
stomach for leverage. Then she started moving herself up and down on my
member. "Oooooooh, I think I *like* this!"

I put my hands on her hips to steady her. "I think I like this myself."

"Ummmm...oohhhh...That's cause I'm doing all the work..."

"No, that's not it at all. It's because I get to watch you."

I wasn't kidding. She had her ringlets of hair pulled back off of her
face with a bow, but a few had escaped, and curly strands framed her face
and snaked down her neck. Her face was flushed. Her eyes were closed. At
one point, she bit her lower lip, showing me the small gap between her two
top front teeth, a feature that I had always found endearing. Her chest
heaved from exertion and excitement. She started murmuring something. I
couldn't hear at first. Then it got a little louder; "oh God it's so good
it's so good it's so good oh God oh God.."

I could tell she was close, so I strengthened my upward thrusts in time
with her downward ones. She groaned, and then dropped her arms by her
sides. I increased my leverage on her hips as she approached her climax,
and she lost control and flopped around. When it hit, she fell forward and
lied on my chest for it, moaning and writhing on me as her pussy spasmed
around my cock. I wrapped my arms around her. It was fantastic. She was
in no condition to do much of anything after that, so I flipped her over
and finished myself off, enhanced by her dreamily whispering "I love you..I
love you..,"in my ear the whole time.

--twelveWe were cuddling after that, my arms wrapped around her, when I
felt her shiver. I gradually realized she was shaking. Her whole body was
convulsing. Then, I realized why-she was crying into my chest.


"Oh, Chris, I'm so ashamed."

"What, about this? You are kidding, right?"

"No, not about this." Her voice got quieter. "This should have been my
first time. You should have been my first. "

"And you should have been mine. There's no use crying over spilled

"Yeah, but at least yours was fun. Mine was a disaster."

She had never talked about it. We talked about *us*, but not him, or
that. I sensed she needed to, so I let her. "It really was a disaster,
you know. I had let my hormones get the best of me. When he touched me, I
got so horny, because it had been so long, and I was ready by then. You
were going to get it when you came home; I had already decided that. But
he touched me, and I needed.*something*..and I think I let him go all the
way because by that point I desperately needed to get off and nothing else
he was doing was making it happen, because he had no clue. And even doing
*that* didn't get me off. He was horrible. And I felt like dirt the whole
time, wishing I was with you. I even tried to fantasize I was with you,
but I couldn't, because every inch of my body knew that I *wasn't*. I
regretted doing it before I even started, but I couldn't stop myself. And
Cheryl made it worse. She gloated. She spent a week saying to me `little
Miss perfect finally gives up her precious virginity, and it's not to her
own boyfriend!" And worse." She sighed. "Then, I'm here with *you*, our
first time, and it's everything I could have dreamed about plus more. It
was fantastic. I haven't come down to earth yet." She looked at me. "I
made you wait forever. Now I wonder why I made you wait. Especially when
it turns out that *I* couldn't."

"First of all, it was worth the wait. Second of all, I really don't
care anymore that I wasn't your first. I am kinda hoping, however, that I
will be your last."

I must have said the right thing, because the version of That Smile I
was treated to could have lit up four star systems.

"Alex," I told her, "I know you as well as you know yourself. I've
known all along that beneath that calm exterior lies raging passions. I
suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I'm just glad you're bringing those
passions into *my* bed."

"And, my dearest Alex, before I go back to school, I'm buying you a

She was still giggling when I drifted off to sleep.

--thirteenI awoke the nest morning with somebody's hands wrapped around
my morning Woody and someone sitting on my legs. I fluttered my eyes open,
and there was Alex, straddling me. "Hello, sleepyhead. Glad you woke up.
You certainly wouldn't want to sleep through this, would you?"

"You don't waste any time, do you?" I asked her.

"Hey, we've had a year and a half of foreplay." She sank down on me.
What a way to wake up.

Alex was confirming a discovery she had made the previous night. She
liked the female superior position. She liked it a lot. I was not
complaining. And, I made a discovery about her. Alex makes slow, tender,
gentle love in the morning.

She straddled me for well over an hour. She cuddled me. She kissed me,
and nuzzled my neck, and ran her fingers through my hair. I rubbed her
back, and played with her breasts. It was like making out, except I had my
cock buried deep in her pussy. Sometimes she rocked back and forth.
Sometimes she lifted up, and settled deliberately back down, and then did
it again 30 seconds later. Sometimes she just let it be in her. It was
unhurried, calm, gentle, altogether indescribable.

In the middle of it, I reached up and whispered in her ear, "I didn't
think it was possible to be this close to another person."

"I woke up," she said, "and decided that I wanted to crawl inside you
and wrap you all around me."

When we finally came, it wasn't an explosion. It was more like a cool,
gentle summer rainstorm at twilight taking the edge off of a blazing hot
day. It was something I'll never forget as long as I live.

We had all day, all night, and most of the next day before my parents came home, and we made up for a lot of lost time.

--fourteenWe explored each other as much as possible before it was time
for me to go back to school. I actually did buy her a vibrator, much to
her amusement, and told her that she had to confess in her letters whenever
she used it. She confessed a lot, much to my amusement. She called it The
Substitute. She used to write, "You made me so horny over the phone that,
as soon as I hung up, I had to use The Substitute."

The transfer was approved, so when I came home to her arms in May, it
was for good. And in time for *her* junior prom. My new school was 45
minutes away. Not quite next door, but close enough. She spent so much
time there with me that she fell in love with the place, and decided to go
there herself. Of course, the first year I was there, she was still in
high school. I put a ring on her finger that Christmas. Her parents had a
slight conniption-how many high school seniors go back from vacation with
an engagement ring?-but we promised them a long engagement. We were
waiting until we both got out of school, but we wanted to make the promise
to one another.

I graduated school, and got a good job right away. I moved into an
apartment, and Alex moved in with me. Two years later, she graduated.

The wedding that summer, as befits us, was a Time. Tiger was the best
man, Bill was an usher, and Alex chose Andrea as maid of honor, which
delighted me. Cheryl had thought herself entitled to the position, as
befitting a twin,and had a snit about it, but Alex told her, "Refresh my
memory. Which one of you tried to break us up, and which one helped us get
back together?" Cheryl didn't even show up. She wasn't missed.

So, maybe not the first, but The Last, forever and always. And, getting
another look at That Smile was extra special, when it was accompanied by,
"I do."

--epilogueAlex still makes sweet, gentle, tender love in the morning.

We have three kids. Sasha is ten, Bruce (of course) is seven, and
Katrina is five. Sasha has a crush on the boy next door, and still doesn't
get why that makes her parents laugh so much.

And there was this tour, last year. Bruce Springsteen and the E Street
Band, reunited. We each have our own computer, in adjoining rooms (hers in
the bedroom, mine in my study) and the MP3 bootlegs of shows from the tour
were popping up days after each show. We'd play a game of "who can find
what", yelling at each other through the doorway.

"I got Copenhagen and Berlin!"

"Oh yeah, well I got the first three Meadowlands shows!"

Did we attend a show ourselves? What, are you kidding? Fourth row
seats, got off the internet, and though I joked about having to auction
Katrina off to pay for them, it was worth every penny. They played all the
good stuff and Alex caught one of Miami Steve's guitar picks. It was, as
it always is, a Time.

Bruce was ending every show with a new song. It's called "Land of Hope
and Dreams." We knew all the words, of course, from all those bootlegs.
There's a couplet in there: "Dreams shall not be thwarted, faith will be
rewarded." You got to admit, the man has a way with a lyric, because truer
words were never spoken.

And, every time I sing those words to Alex, I get-you guessed it-That

And I never get tired of it.



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