At seventeen, I had not yet bloomed, had barely been kissed. So after Drama class, when the conversation turned to dating and lust, and Miles pronounced girls’ bras “confounding,” I offered myself up for him to practice undoing my bra, one handed. Astonished but keen, he snuggled up and reached under my shirt from behind. Merely curious, I watched his face contort in concentration. Minutes passed, his hand exploring the clasp. Then he got it. Open! Experiment complete. No stray hands, though he said he was aroused. Not I. Straightening myself out, I headed to my next class. And wondered.
Amanda Le Rougetel lives on the Canadian prairie where she enjoys turning five minutes into 100 words.