" She moved down my chest, her head nestled into my stomach, kissing. There was suddenly something awkward and strange here. A ringing in my brain. Incessant and patronizing. Her words: 'I'm doing this for you... then we have to stop'? What the hell did that mean? It sounded like she was setting this whole thing up. My mind was spinning out of control. We were just standing there talking about who was taller... before that... then it hit me."No! Stop." My hands went for hers. I began pulling myself away, a wave of nausea sweeping over me. She was fighting me, playfully, determinedly. 'It's OK, ' she seemed to be saying."Stop. Stop. Stop. Goddamn it, STOP!" She rolled off me, and brushed the hair out of her face. I looked down at her and myself, my jeans undone, my boxers partially down."This is—What are you trying to do?" My brain was jumbled as sexual thoughts tried vainly to compete with rational ones."What do you mean? I'm—Nothing." Clearly, she was very embarrassed now. Well,. "You two had a good chat while I was talking to the doctor, then?" Iasked."With me doing most of the talking, obviously," dad said, making Opheliaroll her eyes at his gentle teasing. "But Ophelia's not wrong, you DOneed more clothes, right?" Well- yes," I said as I stared at the loose dress covering my body. "Andmore shoes." Well- okay, I guess," dad said, bristling at the additional expense hehadn't considered."And underwear," I continued. "Wearing a thong for more than one day-" Okay, okay, more underwear it is," dad said, trying his hardest not togrimace. "Don't need any more details, thank you very much." ...And more cosmetics-" I mumbled, before being interrupted by a longsigh from my father."...Fine," dad sighed. "Whilst we're in town we'll also see if we can'tfind you a Saturday job so you can stop torturing my credit card..."Later that evening, the three of us returned with carrier bags full ofclothes, shoes, underwear and even a little make-up. Ophelia had, ofcourse, done a.
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