In the car, he had driven one-handed. His other arm was around her, the hand reaching around to massage her breast, as he had done in the theater. She sat close to him, her breath hot and fast in his ear, and she had begun to grow bold herself. Her hand had rested on his leg, and he knew that she wanted to touch him as he had touched her. And he also knew she was going to get the opportunity very soon.
They got to the house at a quarter to twelve, and Vince immediately sat down on the sofa, expecting Betty to come sit beside him. But she said something about coffee and went out to the kitchen. He followed her out, saying, “Who wants coffee?”
“I do,” she told him.
He stood in the kitchen doorway. “Betty,” he said.
She stopped her fussing with cups and saucers. Her back was to him, and slowly she turned to face him. Her eyes were bright, as they had been in the movie, but they showed wariness, too.
“Come into the living room, Betty,” he said. “Come sit with me in the living room.”
“I was — going to make coffee,” she said hesitantly.
“Never mind the coffee. Come on in the living room.”
She hesitated a moment longer, and then smiled and said, “All right.”
They went back to the living room, and this time she sat down on the sofa beside him, but almost immediately moved to get up again, saying, “You didn’t turn the TV set on.”
He grabbed her arm, pulling her back down on the sofa. “We’ve got fifteen minutes yet,” he said. “All that’s on now is news and weather. Who cares about news and weather?”
She was half-turned, facing him, and she smiled again, her eyes brighter than ever. “Nobody does,” she said. And when he reached for her, she came soft and eager into his arms.
But it wasn’t as easy as he’d thought. She let him French kiss her, she let him fondle her breasts and slide his hand up the inside of her leg, she let him push the sweater up and open her bra, she let him touch the bare breasts, pinching the hard tips gently between his fingers, kissing her breasts, but when his hand, beneath her skirt, slid up to grab the waist of her panties and slide them down, she pulled away from him at once, pushing the offending hand away, whispering, “No, Vince. We can’t go that far. No.”
He was obedient, that time. He let his hand slide down again across her silk-covered belly, and pulled her close to kiss her again, to touch her breasts with fingers and lips and tongue.
He waited. Stroking her, kissing her, caressing her, nipping her flesh with his teeth. He waited until her eyes were closed and her mouth was open and her breath was loud and short and ragged, her arms limp and weak around him, her hips writhing and revolving on the sofa. Then he made the move again, and this time she didn’t stop him, and her panties slid away to the floor. And when he touched her, she groaned and clutched him tight to her.
He undressed her there in the living room, piece by piece. The sweater went and the bra, and finally the skirt. And when she was nude and pliant in his arms, he whispered, “Let’s go upstairs.” And she nodded, whispering, “Yes, Vince, yes.”
She led the way up the stairs and he followed, pulling off his shirt and undershirt on the way. She walked ahead of him, her firm round buttocks moving as she climbed the stairs, and he stroked their roundness, wanting to bite them.
Up on the second floor, he started into the first bedroom he came to, but she said, “No, that’s my sister’s room. My room is down here.”
“Your sister.” He hadn’t known there was a sister. He suddenly felt cold. What if the sister were to come in while he was in the bedroom with Betty? There’d be hell to pay.
His thoughts must have shown on his face, for she laughed and said, “Don’t worry. She doesn’t live here anymore. She got married two years ago and moved to Denver.”
“Oh.” Weak with relief, he hurried after Betty to her bedroom.
He had his clothes half off, holding them in one hand. When they reached the bedroom he whipped the rest off right away. He knew the danger in letting the emotion of the moment be washed away by too much time spent on the mechanics of the thing, on the moving to the proper room or from the front seat to the backseat of the car, or getting the clothes off. The mechanics had to be gotten over and done with fast, before they could spoil the mood.
Her room was large and airy and girl-styled, but he didn’t notice a thing in it except the three-quarter bed. The covers were turned neatly back, the sheets were crisp and clean, and already he could visualize Betty atop the bed and himself atop Betty.
She sat down on the edge of the bed and raised her arms to him, smiling. He came into her arms, sat beside her, kissed her and stroked her, slowly laid her back and down onto the bed.
“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered, reassuring her. “You don’t have to worry, I won’t hurt you.”
They were lying crosswise on the bed and gradually they shifted position until they were lying the right way, she on her back and he on his side next to her, still stroking her and kissing her and very gradually rolling forward onto her.
“I’ve never done this before, Vince,” she whispered suddenly.
He was terrified that she would suddenly stop him at the last second, that she would realize she was about to become an ex-virgin, and wouldn’t go through with it. “I know,” he whispered. “But don’t worry, Betty, wonderful wonderful Betty, don’t worry.”
“You’ve got to promise,” she whispered, and her hands were suddenly firm against him, not pushing him away but not letting him get any closer either. “You’ve got to promise,” she repeated, “not to ever tell anybody. Not anybody.”
“I never will,” he promised fervently. “I’d never do a thing like that.”
“This is the first time,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“My sister,” she explained, whispering in his ear, “always told me to never do it with a boy from my own school or my own town, because that way I’d get a bad reputation. She said I should only go for boys from other towns. I’ve never done it before. You’re the first boy from our school I’ve ever done this with.”
The full import didn’t hit him for a couple of seconds, and then he practically yelped. She wasn’t a virgin! She wasn’t a virgin, after all! He almost said it aloud, as an incredulous, shocked, screamed question: “You’re not a virgin!?” But he stifled it just in time, because that question would have ruined the whole thing. He would never been able to explain why it was so important to him that she be a virgin without destroying the mood, and without destroying his chances with her forever.
She was still whispering to him, earnestly and matter-of-factly, and he knew at last that this girl was far from being a virgin. “So you’ve got to promise never to tell anybody. I don’t want to get a bad reputation.”
He swallowed, forced himself to answer her. “I won’t tell, Betty. Believe me, I won’t.”
She kissed him and smiled. “The first night we went out,” she told him, “I knew I had to have you. No matter what my sister said.”