I unbuttoned my blouse and took it off. She stood waiting in her panties while I reached back and undid my bra. Then she handed me the bikini panties she had brought for me.

"Let's get the show on the road," she said, and went to the sofa to sit and wait for me to finish putting on the blouse, panties, and skirt.

She clapped. "You look very good," she said. She laughed. She patted the place beside her on the sofa. "Come here."

I moved obediently and sat. "Now what?" I asked. "I'm going to prepare you. You're not walking into any traps. You're the trapper."

"Why is this so important that we have to do it right now, tonight?" I asked, holding my breath.

She smiled instead of smirking and shook her head.

"Why put it off when there's a good opportunity? Silly girl. We've done everything together for so long. I've shared almost all my secrets with you. I told you. We can't be birds of a feather if we're not completely even, and we can't be completely even if one of us hasn't had the life-changing experience the other has had. Well, can we?" she asked when I didn't respond.

"I guess not."

"You guess right. I couldn't leave you here in this sleepy town without first making sure of all that, and that's why," she said, taking my hand into hers and pressing her lips to my cheek, "that's why," she whispered, "the virgin dies tonight."

14 In Dana Martin's Car

Karen and I had talked about losing our virginity. Until recently, she had me believe she was a virgin as I was, although she always did belittle its importance and value.

"Women like to think they're saving themselves for that one special man, while that one special man has been harvesting sex all along. I know my mother acted so innocent and pure when she first met and married my real father. Some men, most men, let themselves be fooled. They'd rather live in the fantasy that their precious love has saved herself just for him. It's damn one-sided, if you ask me. Right?"

"I suppose," I said. She sounded right, and I had never had a conversation with any other girl or my mother like the one we were having.

"And then there are those girls who convince themselves they don't really want or need to go all the way. They want affection and consideration and respect, while they sit home and read about real sex in some corner under some lamp while no one is watching. They're merely afraid of it and find every excuse in the book to avoid it."

She did get me thinking more and more about it. We used to review the girls in school, deciding who had lost her virginity and who had not. She said she could tell by the way the "completed" girls, as she called them, carried themselves and related to boys. "They have that je ne sais pas, that quality the French recognize."

She did have me wishing I had it, whatever it was. "The virgin dies tonight?" I said.

She laughed. "Don't look so worried, Zipporah. You're not exactly a country bumpkin. Remember when you told me what happened when you were dancing with that boy back in your old schooP I think you said his name was Barry Hasler. You said you were in tenth grade?"

"Yes," I said. I had forgotten I had told her about that. It amazed me that she remembered the boy's name, too. She and I had been talking about our secret little sexual encounters. It wasn't that long after we had become friends, and we had played the usual "You go first" game. After one had, the other felt obligated to reveal something. It was titillating fun. That was when Karen said, "We undress ourselves in many ways when we become close friends."

I had told her that this boy, Barry Hasler, had asked me to dance, and while we were dancing, I had felt his growing excitement when he brought his hips closer. I told her I had moved back quickly, but then I admitted to this unrelenting curiosity that brought me close to him again. Karen compared it to being drawn to a candle flame and putting your finger so close you either burn yourself or nearly do.

I confessed that just for a moment or two, Barry looked into my eyes and saw that I knew what was happening to him. The fact that I didn't pull out of his embrace and hurry away put an even greater light and excitement into his eyes. I wondered what I had done to cause it. He held me closer, and when the dance ended, he smiled at me and tried to get me to dance with him again, but I was suddenly afraid, made excuses, and left the party before it was over. Nevertheless, he pursued me in school until he saw I wasn't going to be his girlfriend, and he gave up to pursue someone else.

"But you never forgot it. It's like an experience that's imprinted in your soul forever and ever. Even when you're an old lady, you'll think back to that first time, Zipporah, and it will make you wish you were young again."

"How do you know all this?" I asked. What I really meant was, how come she knew it and I didn't?

She shrugged. "From what I read, what I hear, what I see. There have been some real motherdaughter times for me and my mother, too," she said. "Unfortunately, they usually occurred after she had drunk too much or had a bad man experience, as she called it. She would sit ranting about this or that, not realizing half the time what she was telling me, but I didn't interrupt her with any silly, childish questions that would make her aware of it, so she went on and on, supposedly to help prevent me from becoming the victim she had become. That was her excuse, but she was and is a victim of herself. She just likes to blame others, including me. But forget about that," she added quickly. "I don't want any of that to ruin our good times."

She smiled again. "I'm bringing up your memory and what you told me so you'll realize what power you do have, we have. I hate all these girls who pretend to be so helpless. They're such . . . zeros, phonies, dishonest . . . we're not going to be like them. When you drew closer to Barry again, you kept him excited, even more excited. You could have led him all around that dance floor. He might as well have had a collar and a leash. Dana Martin's not going to be any different."

"Dana's not in the ninth grade. He's a senior, and he's been with lots of girls, I bet."

"It doesn't matter. As my mother always says, `They're boys forever.' As I said, when you get into his car, he's going to drive you to a safe spot so you can talk," she said, making quotation marks in the air with her index and forefingers when she said "safe." "Little innocent you will go along, of course. When you get there, he'll turn off the engine and the lights. The moon will be nearly full tonight. It will be quite romantic, actually. He'll begin talking about me, about how sorry he feels for me, and how wonderful a friend you've been to me and how he respects that more than anything

He'll knock all the other girls in school as self-centered, busybodies, even his old girlfriend, in order to make you feel very special in his eyes, and then he'll say something like he hopes you think of him as someone special, too. He won't wait for the answer. He'll put his arm around your shoulders and kiss you and try to convince you that's why he wants to be with you now, why you should want to be with him, why this is so right and good."

She paused, and I sat there unable to move, afraid to speak and stop her. I felt as if I were watching it happen to someone else.

"His hands will start their exploration of your body. He'll be on those perky breasts of yours like a fly on fly paper, but," she said, smiling, "this is where you take control of him."

"How?" I asked. My heart was already thumping with anticipation.

Tags: V.C. Andrews Secrets Horror
Source: readsnovelonline.net