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“Never.” He kissed me and let go, reaching for the key. “Do you want to eat out or in?”
“In.”
“Takeout or home cooked?”
“Home cooked,” I said. I loved it when he cooked for me. “You make the best sandwiches.”
“Sandwiches it is.”
He started the car and pulled away from City Hall. The crowds had dispersed, but I saw my family huddled behind my brother’s car, chatting. I slid down in the seat, hoping they wouldn’t wave us over.
“Avoid my brother’s car,” I said. “They look like they’re planning something.”
“I should have planned a luncheon after the ceremony. Now I feel bad.”
“I wouldn’t have wanted that, anyway. I told my mother she could have a party for me when I passed the boards, and now, thanks to my roommates, she knows. I was going to drag that out as long as I could.”
“We’ll celebrate this weekend.”
“Being together now is wonderful. I didn’t know you were taking the afternoon off. That’s unusual, isn’t it?”
“This is a special day. We deserve it,” he said, taking my hand and raising it to his lips.
We reached his house, and when he headed to the kitchen, I grabbed his hand and pulled him through the hallways back to his bedroom. If I was going to do the deed, I was going to do it while I had the nerve.
“Oh, man,” he said, chuckling. “What am I in for?”
“Whatever we can think of,” I said, stopping him at the end of his bed. “First, let's get this thing off.”
I didn’t know how to get a tie off a man’s neck. A T-shirt pulled over the head was the extent of my male undressing prowess. He laughed, letting me figure it out.
Then the shirt, a beautiful, sparkling clean white cotton with a starched collar. I fumbled with the mother-of-pearl buttons.
“Do you want me to help?” he asked, grinning at me. “The buttonholes are tight.”
“Nah, I’ll figure it out,” I said, finally having success as I got the last one unfastened.
I then had to figure out how his gold cufflinks worked, placing them on the bed when I got them out. I turned him around to take the shirt off his body, next pulling off his V-neck undershirt. All I can say iswow. I peeked at the shirt’s size—large.
We hugged for a while. He wore a gold chain around his neck that was so fine, I had to be right there with my nose up to his chest to see it.
“I never saw this before,” I said, fingering it.
He reached down. “My dad gave it to me when I was a teenager. It’s only special for that reason. It’s not like Mr. T, right?”
“Who?” I asked, making him laugh. “I’m just teasing. I think I know who Mr. T is. It’s nice. I didn’t notice it.”
“We were never completely naked before,” he said, reaching for me. “My turn.”
“Oh no, you don’t. I still have to get the pants off.”
“The pants,” he said, moaning.
He was so humble. With each removal of fabric, my praises got more intense. It gave me an opportunity to check out his underpants. Waist thirty-four inches. I had plenty of men’s thirty-fours in my stash.
I couldn’t delay the inevitable. I gave him a turn, and I stood there like a statue, my hands in the air so he could slip the borrowed dress over my head.
For the first time, he noticed my undergarments. They received the adulation expected for such ridiculous wisps of lace. I’d have to tell him soon about my problem, which seemed to have become something from the past that I might have outgrown.
