Sawyer’s Algebra class that the realization hit me that I wasn’t wearing anything under my skirt. Pressing my thighs firmly together, I did the be...t I could not to think about it too much. It didn’t help that Stacy’s seat was next to mine, especially when, with a shy smile, she drew my attention to a small triangle of grey cotton material peeking out of her book back. Her panties. I wanted to bury my face in my arms on my desk top and pull my sweater over my head. I must have let out a soft. It was probably my fault. Or at least the fault of the culture we were formed in. Josh was right there with us in those sitting-on-the-bean-bag-cushion, cross-legged-on-the-floor bull sessions we used to do in college. He listened to us regurgitate what we’d heard in class, he would have come to the easy conclusion that a protective man with a good heart at home and a firm hand in the bedroom was exactly what we did not want. So when things went bump in the night, Josh wasn’t jumping out of bed. More

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