slightly, then the tip of her
tongue darted forward between his lips to quest against his tongue in a
caress so fleeting that it was withdrawn before he could react--and James
reacted by jerking his head back faster than if he had been clubbed in
the face. He was still tingling with the shock, a pleasant shock but none
the less a shock, when Martha giggled lightly.

He bubbled and blurted, "Wha--whu--?"

She told him nervously, "I've been wanting to try that ever since I read
it in a book."

He shivered. "What book?" he demanded in almost a quaver.

"A paperback of Tim's. Mother calls them, Tim's sex and slay stories."
Martha giggled again. "You jumped."

"Sure did. I was surprised. Do it again."

"I don't think so."

"Didn't you like it?"

"Did you?"

"I don't know. I didn't have time to find out."

"Oh."

He kissed her again and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally he moved
back an inch and said, "What's the matter?"

"I don't think we should. Maybe we ought to wait until we're older."

"Not fair," he complained. "You had all the warning."

"But--"

"Didn't you like it?" he asked.

"Well, it gave me the most tickly tingle."

"And all I got was a sort of mild electric shock. Come on."

"No."

"Well, then, I'll do it to you."

"All right. Just once."

Leaping to the end of this midnight research, there are three primary
ways of concluding, namely: 1, physical satisfaction; 2, physical
exhaustion; and 3, interruption. We need not go into sub-classifications
or argue the point. James and Martha were not emotionally ready to
conclude with mutual defloration. Ultimately they fell asleep on the
divan with their arms around each other. They weren't interrupted;
they awoke as the first flush of daylight brightened the sky, and with
one more rather chaste kiss, they parted to fall into the deep slumber of
complete physical and emotional exhaustion.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

James Holden's ride home on the train gave him a chance to think, alone
and isolated from all but superficial interruptions. He felt that he was
quite the bright young man.

He noticed with surreptitious pride that folks no longer eyed him with
sly, amused, knowing smiles whenever he opened a newspaper. Perhaps some
of their amusement had been the sight of a youngster struggling with a
full-spread page, employing arms that did not quite make the span. But
most of all he hated the condescending tolerance; their everlasti