Let’s go for a walk, she said.  Why not, I agreed.  I liked walks.  I liked her.  And I was sick of dancing.

When the chaperones weren’t looking we snuck out of the gym through a side door.  I held her hand.  We didn’t talk.  At the edge of the parking lot I began to joke about the DJ playing  ”Easy” by the Commodores twice when she pulled me close and kissed me.

What the hell was she doing with her tongue, I wondered.  This can’t be what kissing is about, I wondered.  Then I just gave up and figured, hell, it must be how they do things in Paris in 1978 and held on for dear life.