I was certain that he would take special care to make love to me before he went away. He did not.I worried the whole time he was gone. My stomach was ...n knots. My heart ached. I wondered what I had done to offend him, to insult him, to displease him. I was so young, I didn’t even realize how very sexually frustrated I was. I didn’t know what to call it. I just knew that I cried myself to sleep every night that first week he was gone. What could I do? He didn’t tell me what he wanted. He hadn’t. While pleasurable, It was unlike anything he was familiar with. It wasn’t like driving to Cleveland. It wasn’t like playing a trombone in a top hat. It wasn’t like eating a cheese omelet. It wasn’t like having eight dollars and seventy six cents in your pocket. It wasn’t like when some guy tells you they play the trumpet and pull out a cornet. It wasn’t like a walk in a summer rain at dusk through the wood of bramble and cottonwood filled with the tweet of the robin and the emphatic. More

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