"Cindy," she called out, "Just remember, it's none of their business, and if anyone asks say it was an accident, you don't know exactly how it happene.... And you've only got about ten minutes to get to the bus." The front door slammed closed behind her.It was a quiet breakfast. I kept looking at her, trying to figure out how mad she was. She just stared at her plate and pushed the food around, still wearing the backpack. I watched the clock slowly tick on.Finally, "Um, Cindy, we gotta go." She. The word remained unsaid, but I knew what he wanted. I remember the sound of my zipper sliding down, the sound of his pants, heavy with wallet and keys, hitting the concrete. I remember the soft nylon-on-nylon sound as we lay down on the pile of sleeping bags. I remember his soft grunt as my body yielded to his, and the satisfying warmth as his seed filled the condom.In college, my desires became more diverse. I sought out Monique, the exchange student from Belgium. She sang a solo of lust on. More

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