CHAPTER FOURTEEN: TWICE FIRST TRYST

Peter first sees Darlene, and her mother Marge McPherson, on TV. She makes The Provincial news at least three times and is on the local channel several times more. The “Soccer Girl”, or as some others choose to refer to her, “a victim of sexist discrimination”, hails from Lumberton, a town less than twenty miles away. Peter doesn’t pay much attention in the beginning, she’s just some silly thirteen year old girl with braces on her teeth who got thrown off a boys soccer team. Who’d want to play soccer anyway? But Mom’s interested and tries to discuss the matter during a commercial. And then Aunt Agnes is over, and gives her opinions which have little sympathy for Darlene. Peter’s interest quickens after the protests begin, and ‘The Fighting Mother’, Marge MacPherson leads a column of women and children bearing placards to the imposing steps of the Provincial Parliament Buildings. “Liberate All Women Now” is their cry. A crowd of dozens watch and a TV camera gets a close up of Darlene ‘giving the finger’ to the representative of the Human Rights Commission. This might have been bad tactics but for the fact that the prime minister himself has recently used the same gesture in public. As it is, the ‘finger’ in red superimposed over a black male symbol becomes the unofficial logo of the LAWN movement. Buttons are made up and distributed among supporters.

Peter watches the Hot Line Show when the guest is a professor of psychology from the regional college. He warns of “the moral dangers and possible traumatic consequences of precocious exposure of pubescent adolescents to the intrinsically erotic stimulation unavoidably concomitant with the physical propinquity of team athletic activities.” Although Peter doesn’t understand what is said, he has to agree. It’s nothing but a bunch of stupid nonsense. The Fighting Mother phones in to protest his blatantly sexist attitudes, and is bleeped twice before she’s cut off. A senior citizen, he says he is eighty two, phones in and ominously states, “Boys will be boys.”

Even ordinary kids on the street are discussing the issue as Peter finds out at the 7-Eleven one day.

“I heard she was screwing the team captain and that’s why they got rid of her.” says the red haired boy.

“Well I heard she was screwing all of them, they’d sneak back in after the coach had gone and take turns.” The boy with glasses contributes.

“Do you think she was screwing the coach too?” another asks.

“Naw.” Red replies, “l hear he likes little boys.”

“I think Red’s right, she just screwed the captain, the rest she probably jerked off.”

“Well I wouldn’t mind poking her myself.” The boy with glasses observes.

“Yeah.”

While Peter has never played on any teams, his recollection of the smell of the school gym’s changing room assumes a new pungency.

However people and the media lose interest after the minister responsible promises to appoint a special committee to draw up a report for his department’s consideration. Nothing is mentioned for over two months and the movement to Liberate All Women Now has apparently gone to seed.

A problem with a truck on his skateboard, Peter thinks he stripped a thread, brings him over to Lar’s place late Sunday morning. Peter watches admiringly as Lars proficiently begins to take apart the truck in question and replace the shaft from his collection of spare parts. He seems to have almost finished when a square jawed girl with glasses appears in the doorway of the workshop. Introductions reveal that she’s Helga, Lars’s cousin from Lumberton. “And how old are you Peter?” Helga asks when Lars has resumed working.

“Fourteen.”

“And how much?”

“Fourteen and a half.”

“I mean and how many months.” Helga insists.

Peter quickly calculates, “Fourteen and just over three months.” Helga seems satisfied.

“You live in town here?” Her questioning continues.

“Yeah, just off the highway in the South End.” Peter doesn’t like to be too explicit because it’s rather crummy neighbourhood.

“Do you have any friends in Lumberton?”

Peter says he doesn’t know anybody in Lumberton, and Helga goes to use the telephone. She reappears about twenty minutes later when Peter and Lars are having a snack in the kitchen. “Peter, would you like to help me? I have to take these boxes of books over to my place.”

Peter sees the boxes in the hallway and can’t understand why she can’t do it herself, she’s bigger than him but not quite as tall. But he’s flattered, “Sure, I’d be glad to.”

“And you’ll help me unload them too?”

“Huh?” Helga explains that she has her mother’s car and will see that he gets bus fare to get back with. Peter’s “buts” are overcome by her assurances that she really needs his help. Peter’s vision of Sunday afternoon skateboarding on the ramps of Eaton’s parkade evaporate. Lars looks on somewhat perplexed but amused.

Peter enjoys riding in the fancy red Camaro and it seems to him that he tells Helga his whole life story in response to her questions as they drive. Just before they reach Lumberton she asks him if he has heard of Darlene, Darlene McPherson. Peter selectively recounts what he’s heard and seen. Darlene and Helga are friends, and if Peter doesn’t mind she’d like to stop by her place on the way.

Darlene seems to be expecting them, she, and her mother who isn’t home, share the upper floor of a tastefully remodeled older house overlooking the playing fields of Lumberton Junior High. Darlene who’s no longer wearing braces, is about three inches shorter but huskier than Peter. Peter decides she has nice eyebrows. Darlene shows him around, a small collection of athletic trophies, all hers, Greenpeace and women’s lib posters and prints of paintings, all apparently by women, dominate the decor. Darlene serves them shandy and granola bars and seems delighted by Peter. After a private conference with Helga in the kitchen she puts on an early Beatles album at low volume and sits down beside Peter.

“You like the place?” she asks forcing another granola bar on him. Peter nods with his mouth full. “I like your hair,” she ruffles his now frizzy mohawk, “and your nose.” A finger from her other hand, the now famous finger, traces its profile. Nobody has said that before about his nose, not even Mom.

“I think you’re nice too.” Peter’s not impressed by her boobs but then she’s only thirteen. “And I like your eyebrows.”

Her arm slides down to his shoulder and she pulls him closer. “Have you ever been to bed with a woman?” She turns his head towards hers.

“Well… Uh…” Peter stammers.”

I bet you have.” She rubs the back of his neck. “Would you like to Peter?… with me?” She looks him right in the eye.

“Well I don’t know… I mean your mom and all that… and Helga.”

“Not here—later.”’ Darlene strokes Peter’s forehead. “I’d really like to go to bed with you. You’re nice…. And don’t worry about Helga.”

What can a boy say? Pussy on a platter. But Peter’s somewhat puzzled. And I’m not a team captain or anything. “Sure, I guess so.” I’m going to get laid. And that’s the most important thing.

Helga reappears, finishes her shandy and has another conference with Darlene in the kitchen. Shortly after they leave Darlene’s and on their way to the bus station Helga explains that Peter should have a bath, wash his hair and put on clean clothes. He is to meet them at the Greenwood Motel, not far from Peter’s place, and if he’s not there at seven thirty she’ll pick him up at his house. “And don’t eat too much and brush your teeth after…. And if you get time you might want to look at this.” She bands him a copy of What Every Teenager Should Know About Sex. “I’ve marked the important parts.” After she drops him off Peter remembers that the boxes of books are still in the car.

By the time Peter gets home his puzzlement has been replaced by excited anticipation. He’s not sure if he’s really attractive or maybe just lucky. He finds another mirror so he can study the profile of his nose. He decides he looks best with his eyelids part way down and his jaw stuck out just a bit. And while people seldom mention ears, he thinks his are nicely shaped. He proceeds to undress and heads to the bathroom. Mom is curious about him having an afternoon bath and Peter explains he has a date, with a girl.

“Why Peter, that’s wonderful. I hope she’s a nice girl, not one of those common sluts you see around.”

“Oh no. She’s a nice girl… Her name is Doreen… Doreen Price.”

“From your school?”

“Yes, she goes to school.”

“Are you taking her to the movies? I hear Rocky Two is playing at the Odeon.”

“Oh no. I’m meeting her at the Greenwood Motel.” Peter immediately realizes that was the wrong thing to say. “You see they’re having their house painted, everything at once… and she’s allergic… and so is her cat. We’re just going out to McDonald’s or Wendy’s and maybe watch TV after”

“Well I’d be careful, some of these motels have special channels, not that you couldn’t cope, or anything, but girls these days… It’s not like when I was a girl back in the sixties, some of them are out to control and dominate men. And I know the punks here don’t, but I’ve read in the National Intruder that in London and New York, gangs of girls go around and beat up and rape young boys. You wouldn’t want that to happen would you?”

“Don’t worry Mom, I was told it would be over by about nine.”

“Well I’m glad to hear that. You go and have your bath. I don’t want to miss All My Children.

Peter fills the old roll rim tub deeper than usual, it will be an hour before there is any more hot water. He tries to step into the tub with some aplomb, but it’s far too hot and he has to run the cold for a minute before he can ease himself in. The heat deenergizes his body but sends his mind aloft. Darlene darling. He takes her in his arms. Dearest Darlene. He presses her close to him and rubs his beautiful nose against her eager lips. And after I’ll let her play with my hair that she likes, while I play with her boobs. A faint “Ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh.” escapes his lips and thus satisfied he lies back to relax and soak. But his peace of mind is shattered when he realizes. I can’t just ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh her, I’m supposed to fuck her, I got to really DO IT TO HER. Peter tries to steel himself, he sticks out his jaw, just a bit, and fondles his nose briefly. His confidence begins to return. He’s seen enough centrefolds to know exactly where to put it. “Ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh.” Louder this time. Thus reassured he goes on to contemplate and indulge. Darlene really likes me… I’m nice… That last thought permutates into a multitude of ego enhancing characteristics. Darlene becomes a living super ‘She’ whom he can flaunt beyond the confines of his bedroom. She clings to his side at the TrendZine, holds his hand in the darkened movie house, and they gracefully slam dance in a grand dayglow ballroom, Peter resplendent in his mohawk and studded black leather tuxedo. He imagines a Kiss. All tension leaves his body and his contented mind and sated ego stand in awe before his magnificent self.

Drying off after is a bit more awkward as he looks down upon his skinny body and countably few hairs. Anyway he has all clean clothes except for socks, and he’s only worn them for two days, and his Jordache jeans are getting nicely snug. As he tucks his pecker, his friend and toy, into his gaunch he regards it already with nostalgia. Roland will not be his exclusively anymore.

Peter sets out before seven without eating, which saves him from having to brush his teeth again, and walks seven lonely blocks to the Greenwood Motel. He’s twenty minutes early and has that ‘extra five dollars’ Mom gave him. Wendy’s beckons temptingly from across the highway but Peter being a man of purpose decides to endure the pangs of hunger. As he sits on a planter full of geraniums near the entrance, he becomes aware of the magnitude of his mission. Yes, I really do like Darlene… It’s not just her eyebrows. Like being a man you don’t just stick it in—you’re supposed to foreplay them first, so they have Fun too. He tries recalling the details from the letters to Penthouse Magazine he’s read. And you got to be tough and rough and show them you’re a Man. And you got to be sweet and gentle and loving too. Peter resolves to do his best, he won’t let her down, he will be a Gentleman and Hunky, he will be dominant and do what she wants, he will bend her to his will and respect her rights. And we’ll probably be going steady after, and maybe in a few years we’ll get married… And what with my nose and Darlene’s eyebrows, the kids are sure to be good looking. The Camaro doesn’t pull off the highway until after eight and it goes right past him to one of the new deluxe units at the rear. Peter runs after it. As soon as Helga and Darlene get out Peter can tell they’re not getting along. He doesn’t like the idea of Helga being there anyway.

“I can’t change my mind now.” Darlene insists. “And it was your idea to begin with… Hello Peter.”

“But it was only an idea,” Helga protests, “I didn’t think you’d really….”

“Well you went along, you were even pushing me… Excuse us Peter… You arranged everything, even the motel.”

“But I was only testing you Darlene. I didn’t really want you to.”

“Helga,” Darlene kisses her cheek, “you know I love you. You know I’m only doing this because I have to… We’ll only be a minute Peter.” Helga glumly unlocks the door and they enter. The deluxe units have a kitchen, a separate bedroom and lots of cedar paneling. “Everyone thinks I’m a slut now anyway, so what? It’s just a name and what does it mean. I don’t think I mind being a slut really. It’s those simpering, chauvinistic sexist piglets. Like when Walter, that sleazy top jock slob denied that anything had happened, I heard he had such a big smirk on his flabby face that no one believed him. And the rest of the team giggled when they said they didn’t know anything. Sometimes I think Mother is absolutely right about men, you know what I mean.”

“I’m sorry Darlene, I didn’t mean to say what I did in the car. It’s just because… You know how I feel about you.”

“Peter, you’ll find some Coke in the fridge… Helga, you should never be jealous because of boys, especially…” Darlene whispers in her ear. “You did a fine job.”

“And he is over a year older, which is what you wanted.” Helga is feeling better.

“Really, Helga, I don’t know what I would have done without you. I trust you, and I’m so glad you are here to stand by me… for this. And you know, already it’s like a whole new world opening up. Like ever since people think I’ve become a Woman, it’s not true of course, but the invitations. Last night I could Have gone to this fabulous party out in Ocean Heights, and three boys have already asked me to Roxanne’s barbecue next week. That’s the worst part of being a woman the boys won’t leave you alone. I’d’ve loved to have told them I was going with you. And the other girls don’t just think of me as some tomboy jock anymore, you remember how they used to call me ‘Sport’ and ‘Superstar’… Helga, tell Peter where the glasses are.” Helga points. “They all think I’m a woman now thanks to Walter and the team. And you remember when we first discussed it, and I said, ‘A woman I shall become.”’ Darlene squeezes her hand. “And we both had a good laugh. Well here we are. And you know what else I think, I think it’s something you should experience at least once in your life. And you know how honest I am, I feel like I’ve been living a lie these last months. If I’m going to carry it off, I have to believe in my heart. And besides, I wouldn’t be able to look most of my friends in the eye if they ever found out that I’m…” She whispers again. “I tried. You knew the truth and that was the most important thing for me,” she squeezes her hand again, “but when Mother blew up over my wearing lipstick, that was the last straw. ‘Dolling myself up for men’, she called it, and if I had ‘any principles’, I wouldn’t have ‘to resort to men’… Helga, do you want to show Peter where the bottle opener is… And then she went into her usual trip about men, you know how male sexism is The Original Sin, and the source of all evil. And I know for a fact, much as I love my mother, that the hypocritical bitch hit the sack with this artist from Vancouver less than a year ago. And she tells me, she has the nerve to tell me that if I’m going to wear lipstick, I’ve got to wash my own pillow cases or get out. She keeps telling me that a woman’s body is her own, but any time I express interest in a boy….Once, just to tease her, I said I thought Brian Morely was a doll, and she practically had kittens. And then she gave me this lecture about waiting until I’m more mature. She said THAT to me. Well I’ll show her. I can’t wait to tell her I’ve been to bed with a man… Helga, would you show Peter where there’s something he can mop the floor with.”

Helga finds some ‘J’ cloths in a drawer and hands them to Peter. “I understand, I feel for you Darlene, I’ve been so stupid about it, I wish I had your courage.” Darlene embraces her. Helga raises her head from Darlene’s shoulder and kisses her on the cheek.

“Peter, the garbage can is probably under the sink… And did you get to look at the book Helga gave you?”

“No.” Peter apologizes.

“Oh Peter,” she moves in beside him on the chesterfield and puts an arm around his waist, “I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you, I didn’t mean it to be like this.”

“That’s OK.”

“I’m glad you’re so understanding.” And in a whisper she says, “Look, why don’t we just slip into the bedroom?”

“OK, but what about her?”

“Don’t worry about Helga.” She escorts Peter into the dimly lit bedroom and closes the door. She sits him down on the already opened bed, bends over and gives him a kiss on the forehead, and running her fingers through his hair she coos, “Peter”.

“Darlene”, it’s almost a sigh.

“Peter”, she sits down beside him and he gingerly puts an arm around her. “Peter”, he turns towards her, his other hand reaching up to her face. “Peter”… Shouldn’t we take our shoes off first?” Peter disengages and they both take off their shoes. “And Peter, your socks, they stink.”

“Sorry, but everything else is clean and I did have bath and do my hair.”

“You’re a good boy and you do have nice hair Peter.” She starts to comb his mohawk with her fingers again.

“I’m glad you like it, I’ve been thinking of getting it spiked again, but not shaved, and maybe later getting it spiked all over. And you’re right about my nose.”

“I think that would look good Peter.”

“You really think so!” Peter’s feeling better. She gives him a half second kiss on the lips and they reentangle, Darlene stroking the back of his neck. Peter has been quite happy simply talking, but Darlene’s fingers work as a potion. Her eyebrows suddenly exude great erotic attraction and Peter realizes he should do something. Her chin is right there so he kisses it. She presses his lips against hers, he feels a tongue probing his mouth. He’s read about things like this. He does the same to her but she starts sucking on it and he suspects she is better read. Peter finds it more than an interesting situation.

“Darlene.” There is genuine passion in Peter’s tone. He kisses her enthusiastically, while she massages him behind the ears with one hand, and works her way down his spine with the other. And then he feels his waist being encircled, and normally ticklish areas are producing New Sensations. He’s hard and horny and inside it feels like he’s bouncing up and down. Is it love or what? At this moment Peter would do anything for Darlene. She holds him close to her breast and they clench for what seems the longest time to Peter. Is it time to go for the boobs? I think they’re supposed to be next. WOW, it sounds like fun. Peter disentangles one arm and eases a hand between their clenched bodies.

“Just a sec.” She unclenches him and pulls wads of Kleenex out of her bra. Peter wonders if there’s going to be anything left. “Here, you undo it.” She takes off her blouse, leans forward and Peter undoes the strap removing the bra.

Peter disappointedly appraises his first pair of boobs. They do curve out a little bit. And he begins to feel them with both hands. Stereo boobs! And he gently tweaks the nipples like you’re supposed to. He doesn’t want her to think he’s disappointed so he says, “I sometimes pretend mine are volcanoes but yours would be much better.” She ignores his comment.

“What about you Peter? Aren’t you going to take off your shirt? Peter complies, self conscious of his scrawny chest. Darlene begins caressing his torso. Eyes closed he indulges in the sensations, and recalls how he had to do the same to Tom. Her boobs are forgotten.

“What about ME, Peter?” He returns to work immediately, but the turmoil in his groin is demanding attention. Courageously he starts groping the button on her jeans. “Aren’t you going to kiss them for a while first?” Peter remembers that you’re supposed to—all those letters in Penthouse and he democratically plants a peck on each like they were tiny foreheads. “No, no, you’re supposed to suck on them like this.” She pushes him over backwards, pinioning his arms to the bed, and dangling her hair in his mouth, begins furiously nibbling and sucking, drawing out his nipples between her teeth and bottom lip.

“OK, OK, I get you.” She’s obviously better read than him, but Peter must be a quick learner for soon she has her jeans off and his too, with only panties and gaunch intact. The crotch groping begins in earnest. Peter’s fingers find no resistance but a nest of hair, a veritable bush, as they slide downward. Peter finds it’s abundance disconcerting. And then he finds the crack.

Darlene squirms rhythmically and his fingers find the little lumpy mound they’re supposed to. Peter dutifully and gently begins to massage it.

“Lower… Up a bit… No, no… Up a bit more… THAT’s IT… No, too far… Oooooh… No, lower.” Darlene grabs his hand, vibrating it against herself. Peter likes the funny faces she makes. He decides it’s time for another kiss but she guides his lips to her breasts. “Can you play with the other one at the same time? And stroke my thighs too?” Peter emboldened starts to pull down her panties. “Peter, I didn’t say you could do that.”

“Well I just thought.”

“You can’t just take advantage of women like that.” Peter withdraws apologetically but she pulls him close, kisses him and pops his skinny little springy white thing out of it’s tent. If Peter was disappointed with his first pair of boobs, Darlene could be equally disappointed with her first cock, but then maybe not. The subsequent fingerplay soon becomes too much for Peter, he remembers something about premature ejaculation in an article on impotency. Was it in The Readers’ Digest? He has to make her stop again and again, but Darlene complains every time he slows down. “Moeorr, moeorr… fahster… huhaaarder.” and she bites him hard on the earlobe. Finally Peter can’t take it any more, his fingers are tired and he’s already switched hands twice. And he’s so superhorny, all his skin feels like peckerskin and inside it’s like a bottle of warm Coke shaken up. Manfully he realizes another moment of truth has arrived. I guess I really got to do it to her now, oh fuck. Peter rises up and pounces playfully on her.

“Peter, WHAT are you doing?”

“Pouncing.” Peter apologizes.

“Well you’re not supposed to do that”

“I thought it would be fun. You know like , Me Tarzan, You Jane.”

“You don’t pounce. Sex is not rape. Sex is a very tender, loving thing, something you share.” She holds him close to her, understandingly. “You ready?”

“Yeah… Sure.” Peter’s almost relieved. Manfully he rolls over on top of her, poising himself.

“Peter, WHAT are you doing?”

“Well I thought we were going to screw.

“Not THAT way.” Darlene objects.

“What do you mean?” Peter’s perplexed.

“Not with you on top of me, like you’re trying to dominate.”

“Well I thought the man was supposed to be on top.”

“That’s a sexist attitude.”

“It’s still sex.” Peter maintains.

“That’s not the point, it’s the attitude, it’s how you men think. You take us women for granted. It’s like Mother says, ‘Men think they rule the world just because they have cocks’, and they want to be on top so they can show their dominance over women.”

“Well I just thought it was natural.”

“Sex is natural, the man on top is NOT natural.”

“OK, we’ll do it your way.”

“You lie down there, on your back.” She points.

“What?”

“It’s called the astride position, the better books recommend it.”

“Well I don’t think it’s right.”

“The book says it gives the man a good view of his partner, and it’s supposed to be very erotic for him.” She squats down regally engulfing Peter’s hardon in her bush and getting the feel of things, starts jiggling up and down. Peter responds with motions of his own. “Stop it Peter. Keep still, You’re spoiling it.” Peter mumbles apologies and tries to keep still, which is not his natural inclination in the circumstances. Then he notices the large TV set facing the bed and wonders if they have any special channels.

“Darlene, do you think they got any special channels? I heard that down at Valhalla Villas you can see this chic fuck a pig and it’s all twisted.”

“Peter, that’s a chauvinistic, sexist thing to say. I don’t want to hear about it… And don’t talk so much, that spoils it too.” Peter’s glad she’s not as heavy as Tom, And at least you don’t get all sweaty and sticky this way. But it’s not like anything out of the letters to Penthouse. Peter’s beginning to wish he’d looked at the book Helga had given to him. He does his best to keep still and quiet. “Peter, it’s going soft… Peter?” Darlene desperately manipulates his sagging appendage. Peter, embarrassed, calls upon all his masculine resources to will his disobedient member rigid. But then as she frantically works away, Peter starts to rather enjoy the attentions his soft cock brings him. He imagines that Darlene is one of his slave girls, which has the effect of enabling her to remount. But then her hairs start to tickle. “Peter, you’re going soft again, you’re spoiling it.” Peter struggles to fulfill his manly role. And to his rescue, and hers, like a vision, appears the tied up dark chic resplendent in her arse spread open glory, beckoning the whip or whatever. More than Peter’s will becomes firm, and as he watches Darlene triumphantly in the saddle riding her trophy, staring ahead in open mouthed expectancy, he begins to strike against her rhythm, to pound it to her. And with each beat a new welt reddens and rises on the arse of the tied up dark chic. “Don’t forget to tell me when you’re coming Peter.” But she speaks too late, for before Peter needs his toes to count, he’s come. “Why are you stopping Peter?”

“I thought it was over.” Peter has that dumb smile all over his face.

“Peter, you didn’t!” His smile becomes even dumber. “Peter, do something, rub it, use your finger quick.” Immediately Peter obeys, using both hands in a frantic effort. “Hahaarder… deeper… a bit higher up… Ohhh, whee-ee-ee… No don’t take it away… just move your finger around slowly… No slower… Now hold it still…. That’s it… Now wiggle it just a bit… Aaaahhh. STOP!” Peter freezes his position for over a minute and just as the crick in his wrist is becoming unbearable she says, “You straighten out the bed, I’ll be back in a minute… And put your pants on.” Darlene wraps the bedspread around herself and goes to the bathroom.

Peter, dazed and obedient does as he’s told. I’ve done it. I’ve really done it. I’ve fucked. He wonders if he is somehow different now. The reality of the nitty gritty has not yet been transformed by the telling of it, into legend, and Peter though gladdened by his accomplishment feels less than heroic. I guess it’s better than jacking off. Darlene returns from the bathroom and modestly, her back towards him dresses. Peter hovers and watches proudly as she reapplies her lipstick in the mirror, affectionately putting his hand on her shoulder.

“Not while I’m putting on my lipstick Peter.” Peter steals a glance of his new self in the mirror and then Darlene opens the door for him and they rejoin Helga who’s reading People Magazine at the table. Darlene and Helga exchange knowing smiles and no longer able to contain themselves they rush into each others arms and embrace.

“I was thinking of you all the time Helga.”

“And I didn’t stop thinking about you, Darlene.” They soak up the emotion in each others eyes.

“And we mustn’t forget Peter. Come. Join us.” And the three of them solemnly link hands until Darlene suddenly remembers, “Myrna, I must phone Myrna, I promised her I would. She’s my longest, and after you, Helga, my dearest friend. We’ve known each other since grade three. She’s the only other person I confide in.” Darlene picks up the phone and dials. “Hello, Myrna?”…. “Hi”… “I’m not anymore.”… “Operation Falconhurst was a success.”… “It was wonderful, fantabulistic.”… “You bet I did. He’s just adorable, tall, has at least six inches on me.”… “I’m not sure exactly, but I know he’s at least a year older for sure. And he surfboards, probably spends a lot of time in California.”… “Not enormous, but you know what they say, ‘It’s what you can do with it that’s important’ and I could tell he’s been around.”… “I mean REALLY.”… “Pietro. Tall, sort of dark, Italian I think. I hear his father has this mysterious job that keeps him out of town a lot. I think his family comes from somewhere in Sicily or Naples, you know what I mean.”… “Oh no, he’s right here.” And to Peter, “Aren’t you Pietro?” Back to Myrna, “You do?”… “Well all right, I’ll let you say ‘Hi’ to him.” To Peter, “Pietro, Myrna would like to say ‘Hi’ to you.” And covering the mouthpiece, “Remember you’re Pietro, and make your voice sound deep. And don’t try talking. Give the phone back right after you say ‘Hi’.” Back to Myrna, “Myrna, here.” She gives the phone to Peter.

“Hi Myrna.” Peter’s baritone falters.

“This isn’t Myrna, I’m Muriel. Myrna’s having a toke right now. So you’re Pietro.”

“Yes… YES.” Peter remembers to deepen the second one.

“Well it’s been real nice talking to you Pietro. I work weekends at the Brite Spot in Lumberton, I’ve got sort of greenish eyes. Here’s Myrna. Bye.”

“Pietro?”

“Myrna? Hi!” The practice with Muriel has helped.

“Hi Pietro, I think you’re a lucky guy.” Myrna’s tone is seductive.

“Yeah, sure… Well.”

“Peter, Pietro.” Darlene is becoming agitated and Peter wants to give the phone back to her but.

“Pietro? Are you there?”

“Yeah, sure Myrna.” The baritone is almost confident.

“I just wanted to say I hope you didn’t take Muriel seriously.”

“No… Sure.” Peter says uncertainly but deeply.

“Pee-ehtro.” Darlene is quite concerned.

“I’m so glad to hear that. You sound so interesting. You’re really from Italy?”

Peter wants to hang up but then there’s a challenge involved. “No, not me, “No, not me, I was born here, but my parents just came to Canada a couple of years ago.” Peter improvises, his baritone weakening.

“How interesting.” Myrna does not question his statement. “And your family’s from Sicily?”

“Oh yeah.” Peter decides he likes improvising—fantasy in action. “Yeah, they come from Kelownia, where they make the famous Calona wines.”

“Really?”

“Pietro?” Darlene grabs the phone. “Myrna, Hi… Pietro has to obey a call of nature.”… Darlene, listening, goes through a medley of expressions ending with a triumphant smirk. “Well I don’t know Myrna, it would depend on Pietro, what he wants. He may have to go back to California soon.”… “Myrna, I don’t know how to say it. But a whole new world has opened up for me. I truly feel like a WOMAN now. I’ll never forget this night.”… “And I’m going to tell Mother I enjoyed every second of it.”… “And Myrna, you’re not to mention a word of this to anyone.”… “Oh, I don’t mind stories going around, you know what they already think of me, but not our little secret.”… “Bye, phone you tomorrow.”

Darlene hangs up and says with affected indignation, “Helga! She wants me and Pietro, to doubledate her and Don. And by the sounds of things end up at one of Roxanne’s parties. I almost burst out laughing, the way she used to treat me. Said I embarrassed her at parties.” The girls have a good laugh while Peter remains in the background. “Excuse us Peter, but Myrna is such a sleaze really. Come here Peter, sit beside me… No, no, move your chair closer… Helga has a little surprise for us, a bottle of Southern Comfort, so we can celebrate.”

“Kahlua, folks.” Helga holds up a large almost full bottle, she enjoys playing host. “There was less than half a bottle of Comfort left and Ma would have had a snit.” She pours out three tumblers almost full and Darlene proposes a toast.

“I propose we drink to this night and the Real liberation of True womanhood. That doesn’t mean I feel any less for you Helga… And can I make a second one?… To you, Helga, for your understanding and standing beside me.”

“And Peter.” Helga adds. They clink glasses and drink. Peter decides he likes Kahlua, and after a while he wants to make a toast of his own. He thinks carefully. Something nice for Darlene.

“I want to make a toast to…” It takes a while for him to get the girls’ attention, “to Darlene getting back on her soccer team.”

“I don’t want anything to do with those sweaty little, big mouthed circle jerkers. Why do you think I made Mother drop the appeal. I’d’ve had to finish out the season at least… Peter? Why don’t we drink to something like… like LOVE… I don’t mean me and you Peter, I mean everybody. To people, Man and Womankind, to that feeling of one with the Universe, but not the kind you have to meditate to do. To Love.” They all stand and empty their glasses. “Oh, what time is it?” Darlene checks Helga’s watch. “I don’t want to be out too late because Roxanne said she might stop by after the Rocky Horror movie. I wouldn’t want to miss any of her parties… Helga could you? It’s after nine already. And Peter, I bad a good time this evening, thankyou. And remember, you’re not to tell anybody. Promise?” Peter nods. “And, oh Peter,” she reaches into her Adidas bag, “I have something for you.” She takes out a button with the red finger superimposed on the male symbol and pins it to Peter’s shirt. “Doesn’t he look sweet Helga?” She puts both hands on Peter’s shoulders, draws his face to hers and runs her tongue sideways along the crack of his lips. “You wouldn’t want me to smudge my lipstick, would you Peter?” But she does give him the gentlest peck. “Good night Peter.” Helga shakes his hand and Darlene blows him a kiss as he leaves.

Peter looks back and can see the girls laughing merrily through the window. Helga is pouring more drinks. Peter walks away and then circles around to the side. He lets the air out of all four tires of the Camaro, bashes the button with a rock and sticks it through a windshield wiper blade.

And sex with girls would be more fun if you didn’t have to fuck them. But then that’s the big thing, that’s what you tell your friends about. But later on Peter realizes that perhaps not everyone would believe him.

The next afternoon Peter is down at the TrendZine Cafe. He still has some money from the last time his grandmother died and cheesecake and cappuccino are on his mind, although he would prefer a less trendy Pepsi. Seeing no one he knows he sits at a table in the back corner near the neon mural, postures himself casually and gives his order to the waitress with the pink spiked hair. The cheesecake has just arrived when Indira comes in, anxiously looks around and walks over to his table. “Hi Newty, have you seen Gusher?” Peter shakes his head. “I been looking for her all day, and when I last phoned they said she’d gone downtown… She’d probably stop by here. Do you mind if I sit down?”

“Sure, be my guest. Would you like a cappuccino? or maybe?”

“No thanks, but I wouldn’t mind a bite of your cheesecake.” Peter pushes the plate towards her and she starts to nibble at it hungrily. “Excuse me, but I just have this craving for soursweet things, and kiwi fruit. I just found out I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant!” Peters taken aback.

“Yeah. That’s why I want to see Gusher. Like I’m really only fourteen and my parents are very religious, and she might know what I should do. Like I don’t want an abortion, I don’t think that’s right because they ARE alive. And I don’t want a baby or even having one, I know what my sister went through when she had her baby.”

“Isn’t there something else you could do instead of an abortion so you don’t have a kid?”

“Like what?” Peter ponders the question as Indira continues, “I wouldn’t want to be living at home after it starts to show, and Sleazy will freak out when he hears about it.”

Peter makes one his first experiments in genuine compassion to a peer. He puts his hand on her shoulders and draws her near. A BABY, that’s real scary. And I didn’t use anything with Darlene. Indira responds with an arm around his chest and she rests her head on his shoulder. Peter pulls her closer without thinking. She’s so young and beautiful. After mentally trying he realizes there’s nothing to say and they hug for about a minute, and Peter’s eyes are wet.

He orders another cheesecake and a Pepsi, and hesitantly the expensive fruit salad with kiwis. Gusher arrives, having heard Indira wants to see her, and after having eaten most of the second cheesecake, and apologizing for doing so, they leave together. Peter finishes his Pepsi. Babies make girls real scary but I still wouldn’t want to be a queer.