I don’t know about Katie, but I had always secretly wanted to touch her breasts and feel her nipples. Just thinking about them made me start to get ... little wet. We unzipped each other’s jeans and pushed them down, running our hands over the other’s butt and down the other’s legs. I started caressing Katie, helping her out of her shirt. She did the same to me and we ran our hands over the sides of each other’s breasts, mostly for Mark’s enjoyment, but I could feel myself getting wetter. We. I had not slept well. I’d stayed up too late, spent far too many hours leafing through my still new yearbook. (In one of those strange moments of reflection, I wondered if 20 years later I would recognize myself in those black and white photos after drinking one scotch and soda too many.) At three in the morning I finally turned off my reading lamp and plopped my head on my pillow. Even so, I’d only managed to doze off when it was suddenly time to get up again, the Sony radio/alarm clock was. More

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