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afternoon breeze made the air sweet and bright and cool. The beauty of the coming evening, Rand’s scent, and my new-found lust for a man, so surprising and wonderful, made me reluctant to do anything but be with him.
    I was thinking, I wish he would kiss me, embrace me, I want to kiss him, where did this come from; I was lost in my heat and happiness. Outwardly I still drew upon the disciplined manners I had learned long ago but my body had its own agenda. Heat traveled from my navel downward, and it was all I could do not to touch myself, to feel whether that heat was coming through my panties, whether I would feel the pulsing of desire with my hand. Unthinkingly I had started walking south, along the Park wall, and Rand fell into step beside me, signaling Tom who jumped back into the car and managed, in all the traffic, to trawl slowly behind us, watching us, pacing the car to our steps.
    “I live downtown,” Rand said, “on the East Side. We could eat there. Will you have some dinner with me?” He took my hand gently as he asked, producing another surge of chemistry and heat. I could not really speak, afraid I would squeak or sob or I-don’t-know-what, so I just nodded and he was openly pleased, his response making him look very young, the boy he had been flashing once more into the face of the man he was now.
    It was so nice to see this reaction, a man’s frank pleasure not hidden by the mask of jaded sophistication that people in our circles so often assumed. In the often crazy social life of the rich and powerful, some people thought that if they took open pleasure in being with you, it would give you a kind of power over them. So boring, so soulless. Rand was so refreshing, not hiding the happiness he felt.
    At Rand’s signal, Tom pulled the car to the curb and we settled into the familiar cushioned leather comfort of the back seat. Mybody thrilled as he slid in beside me and moved closer to me while the car pulled out into the thick but moving traffic.
    Turning to face me, seeing my eyes and seeming to sense my breath, Rand drew me against him and slowly covered my lips with his. I thought I would catch fire and I could feel his own flush of heat. He drew away looking at me speculatively, delightedly, hardly believing it either, it seemed. I thought, such magic. He hesitated just for a few seconds, then drew me to him again, a long kiss that had my blood so throbbing, it was like orgasm, everything a haze of pleasure.
    Oh, this was so not me! I who had played indifferently with boys, preferring dancing, studying, swimming, touring, hating the thought of the casual hook-ups so many of my peers seemed to enjoy. I had kept my distance from the frantic games of petting and maneuvering for sex, and the search games online and off, of “where is my boyfriend now,” with all its pointless jealousies. No great loves had been created that way, at least, not that I could see. So many of the boys, and the girls too, were pompous, full of their supposed worldliness and sophistication. It was a total lie. I could not see or feel any richness or specialness in their frantic pairings and partings. I avoided most of that “social life.” My peers and our wider circle of friends and their families, assumed that this was due to my continuing trauma over my parents’ unspeakable deaths. That suited me. It gave me the space I needed from sexual routines and rituals that were, to me, no life at all.
    Among all my peers, I was closest to one of my classmates, she and I having found each other the first week of our just-ended freshman year. Each of us was an outlier, different from our classmates despite the great diversity of the women admitted to each college class. We had found in each other someone to confide in and laugh with, the essential other female each of us seems to need or long for, to share our commentary on the world. Her name was Robin, and I told her when we met that she wasnamed for my favorite bird. She told