All the way to 18 and Sally had never even kissed a boy, yet here she was standing in the lounge room of the new kid at school this year.
Classes had finished at half-eleven because of a teachers union meeting. There was a twenty minute home-room session and then everyone was free for the day - but Sally's home room teacher Mr Thomas was the school's union leader. He needed to go early so Sally, the class' student association rep, was told to check everyone off the roll before leaving.
Sally's friends had planned to meet at the Quadrangle Tree, a giant willow near the front of school, then work out their day from there. It was summer, it was the last year of school, first exams were gone. For once this was a genuine afternoon off. Everybody, even the most do-gooder of study-heads was planning a day off.
Group by group, Sally's classmates came to homeroom, checked off and left earlier than the rest of school. Sally expected to be at the Quadrangle Tree before anyone, but it didn't turn out that way.
Ten minutes past midday and three students had still not checked in, those ratty north-side girls. They would be off smoking cigarettes, but where? Surely she could just leave, surely she couldn't be chastised for not signing them out - Mr Thomas knew them well enough. A quick look around, if she couldn't find them in five minutes, she would go.
12:35pm at the Quadrangle. She hadn't found the north-side sluts, and she was so late her friends had gone. Fuck. Sally didn't swear a lot, but now was a good time. Her friends had left. The bitches! At least they could have told her where they were going. No, actually they couldn't, she wasn't in her classroom, she was out looking for.... Fuck. They could be at one of a dozen places. Fuck. Those three witches, ooh she would suck up to Mr Thomas and have him flay them for fucking up her entire day. Fuck. What the hell was she meant to do now?
It was then Sally noticed Greg, sat alone on the cement border of the lawn, watching her mumble and pace under the tree. The look of bemusement on his face made Sally realise how animated she had been. Embarrassed, she stopped in her tracks. It was Greg who had come over...
Now Greg was somewhere in the rear of the house changing his clothes while Sally walked the perimeter of his living room, making a show of looking at all the wall hangings and shelves. She sat on the sofa then stood again, conscious of how short her skirt was when she sat down.
It had seemed like twenty minutes since Greg had said he'd be back in a second. Where was he? She felt a sense of anxiety. Sally had never been alone with a boy, and it would be hours before she was accountable for her whereabouts. Part of her was hoping that Greg was interested - she was kind of old to not to have kissed anyone. She knew most of her friends had, some had done more than just kiss. Part of her felt the need not to get it wrong. It was difficult for a teenage girl to know exactly what to do and not to do when it came to boys.
Breaking her thought was Greg, appearing suddenly at the doorway behind her. He had taken a shower. To Sally's shock he was wearing only a towel around his midriff.
"Are you hungry?", he said, handing her a plate of sandwiches matter-of-factly.
"Sure", was all Sally could say, stunned at the situation. Greg was certainly being calm, she thought. Wasn't there something a little unusual about this?
Greg sat down cross-legged on the living room floor. He put his own plate down on the carpet along with two bottles he carried under his arm. Sally looked at him and slowly sat on the floor herself. Greg wasn't watching, he was unscrewing the tops from the bottles. She sat opposite with her legs crossed, conscious that possibly her skirt and his towel were the only things in the way of them staring right at each other. Was he wearing anything under that towel? She tried not to look, afraid of being caught.
"Do you like Ruski?", Greg asked.
"I don't know. What is it? What's in it?"
"Vodka".
Uh-oh. Sally tried a little bit. Ooh, delicious, that was nice. At least he had told her. Vodka, though. She would drink it slowly.
"It's okay", she said.
They ate, they drank. Conversation was oddly natural and comfortable, belying the fact that she was sitting across from a half-naked man. They finished lunch, spread out on the floor and talked some more. Sally liked him, she felt attractive, she felt interesting.
After time chatting, Greg sat upright and called her over.
"Sit up", he beckoned. This was going to get messy, she knew it, and yet she sat.
"Come closer".
This wasn't a good idea - and yet she found herself moving closer.
"C'mon, more, more". Sally moved in a toe-length.
"C'mon, closer". Sally moved in some more, only a couple of feet away, her legs now crossed over the top of his.
"A little bit more", he said.
Sally's stomach churned as she shuffled further toward him. Something was going to happen.
Greg reached out with his right hand and took the top button of her shirt in his fingers. Sally was taken aback. Did she want this? He started to undo the button, slowly enough to allow her to object. Sally looked down at his hand and said nothing. The top button was undone, her collar falling slightly away to show the base of her neck. Sally couldn't look Greg in the eye, she could only watch as his hand slowly moved on to the next one.
Time was motionless as the second button fell open. Sally felt breeze hit the v of her neck as the shirt dropped away some more. As Greg moved to the third button, the back of his fingers brushed against the top of her breast giving her goose bumps. Her heart was racing. Sally looked up. Greg was checking her eyes for problems but she quickly looked back down, neither approving nor disapproving.
For what seemed an eternity, Greg moved from button to button until finished. Her small breasts and their small white bra glimpsed through the gap in her shirt. Her stomach was flat, even sitting like she was. She looked up, absorbing confidence from the glow on Greg's face.
Greg lifted his hand and pulled her shirt back over her left shoulder, opening her bra to full view on one side.
"Stunning", he said. Sally smiled nervously. With the right side still covered, Greg pulled down the the exposed strap of her bra and ran the back of his hand along her naked collarbone. His fingers ran along the edge of her bra and over her breast as Sally closed her eyes.
With both hands, he slid Sally's shirt down to her wrists and moved both bra straps down to her elbows. Her breasts were almost exposed, but when Greg pulled down the front of her bra, daylight spilled onto her nipples.
Sally couldn't believe what had happened, how had it come to this so quickly? Her breasts were out. She was with a boy and her breasts were out. She was excited, nervous, anxious, apprehensive, she felt attractive, embarrassed - even moreso as she looked down with a blush at how much padding was in her bra.
