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Her whole left side was touching my right side, making it hard for me to control anything in the situation. I couldn't move, I could barely breathe, and I definitely was no longer planning on excusing myself. She turned her head towards me and I barely stifled the instinct to turn mine, because from this close distance, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from kissing her. I saw her smile from the corner of my eye, and I suspected it was a mischievous devilish grin. Her hand was still grazing my lower back and I thought that if I wiggled slightly, I could probably have it where I wanted it to be. If only I could move, that is. She leaned her head into the back of my neck, I forgot how to breathe. I kept looking ahead, at the men standing by the barbecue, and wondering what would happen if they turned and saw her nuzzled into me like that. She blew some air onto my neck and lowered her head slightly more.Touch. First, it was almost perceptible, then I felt it. A tongue. Her tongue. On. I spent about a year kicking around with him. He was a black boy my own age. We didn't see each other regularly because he lived on the other side of the downtown area, near my Aunt Frances' home.I met Stepper on one of my expeditions into the downtown business district. Having been packed off to my godmother's place for a weekend, I had spent the morning sitting around their restaurant near busy Union Station. The usual procedure when I spent weekends with my godparents or my father's parents was to spend evenings in their home; but since they had no sitter for me and everyone in the family manned the business during the day, they would drag me downtown with them when they opened the Tremont Cafe in the morning. I spent half my time gobbling down ice cream and Cokes and whatever was on the menu, and the other half exploring the nearby railroad yards, playing Army games near the grounds of the mammoth post office building next door, or poring over comic books and sipping milk shakes..
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