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“I-I should probably go home,” Mabel said, though she didn’t want to leave.
Arthur closed the distance between them. “Didn’t you tell your parents you were staying the night with Evie?”
Mabel swallowed hard. “Yes.”
He took hold of Mabel’s hand and laced his fingers through hers. Mabel could scarcely breathe. Arthur cocked his head. “Is… is there another fella?”
Another fella. It was funny to Mabel now to think that she had ever wanted Jericho. Cool, detached Jericho. They were chalk and cheese. Arthur was a fire and, at twenty, a man. It was only just now dawning on Mabel that she had found someone to match her passion.
“No. Not anymore,” she answered.
“I like you so much, Mabel Rose. Do you…?” He left it unfinished.
“Yes.”
Arthur drew Mabel into his arms and kissed her.
The only other kiss Mabel had known was with Jericho. Even then, she’d suspected he had done it more out of curiosity and politeness than real desire. Now that she was being kissed properly, she knew the difference. Arthur held her tightly. The stubble of his chin scratched her cheek, not unpleasantly. She had the fleeting thought that she’d need to cover it with powder later—maybe Theta would have some? But then she was lost to that fire again.
Arthur broke away, and Mabel wanted him back.
“Stay?” Arthur pushed back the curtain. His bed lay behind it.
For just a second, Mabel wished she could call and ask Evie what she should do. But Mabel had been breaking the old rules tonight. She was a new girl. No, a new woman. She needed to make her own decisions. She was shy about showing her body. Slim flappers with sun-golden tans were the fashion. Mabel’s body was curvaceous and soft, pale and a little freckled. What if Arthur didn’t like the way she looked and felt? He moved behind her and unbuttoned her dress, letting it slip to the floor. He kissed tenderly from her right shoulder up her neck to her ear. Mabel moaned as his hands came around front and cupped her full breasts under her chemise. And then her chemise was on the floor. She curled into herself, seated at the edge of the bed.
“I want to look at you,” Arthur said. His voice was husky. It made Mabel’s stomach flutter, made her head dizzy.
She turned to face him, keeping her arms protectively crossed over her chest like a shield. Arthur was naked. Mabel gasped. She’d never seen a naked man before, and she’d certainly never seen an aroused naked man. The moonlight shone on Arthur’s tight muscles, making them seem carved of marble. There was a dusting of hair that led from his navel down to the part that both fascinated and terrified her. She was doing this, then. They were doing this. This was real.
“I want to see you. All of you,” Arthur said gently. He ran the back of his hand down one of Mabel’s crossed arms. Mabel lowered them, exposing herself, blushing as Arthur took in all of her. Arthur leaned forward and kissed her sweetly on the lips. Then he laid her back on the bed and kissed her breasts, moving farther and farther down. Instinctively, she clamped her legs shut.
“No?” Arthur whispered, coming back up to face her. He swept her hair back from her forehead and looked into her eyes.
“Yes, but…”
“But what?”
“I’m… I don’t know what to do.”
Arthur kissed her. “I do,” he whispered.
Slowly, she opened her legs. Mabel had felt many wonderful things: the first snow landing on her upturned face. The warm summer sun shining down on her toes in the Coney Island sand. But when Arthur touched her between her legs with his warm, sure fingers, she was certain it was the most exquisite feeling she had ever had in her life. He kept at it, building heat there until she thought she might burst from ecstasy. Warmth shot from her belly up to her head, and she cried out and flung her arms around Arthur’s neck. He smiled and reached into his nightstand drawer and brought out a small package.
“A raincoat,” Arthur said, taking out the rubber and putting it on. Mabel looked away, embarrassed. It seemed silly to be embarrassed by this considering what he’d just done to her, what they were about to do, but somehow watching this act made everything seem all too real.
“I love you, Mabel Rose,” Arthur said, and then he was inside her. At first, there was a little pain. But then, as they moved together, it went away. Mabel felt warm and free. Her mind whirred:
He said he loves me.
I am now a woman.
My mother would kill me if she knew. My father would kill him.
Will they be able to read it in my face? Will everybody?
I got there before Evie did—I was finally first.
Everything is different now.
