He tugged harder on her belt, her body pressing up further against his. He grabbed her hair in his fist and balled it up. He drew her head back and looked at her. She began to cry, to plead.

“Please don’t,” She said. “Please.”

“Shut up.”

He kissed her again and this time, he inserted his tongue in her mouth. By pleading, she had left herself open to this. Again he pulled her head back roughly. “Kiss back,” he said.

And I did.

When he was satisfied, he stopped and tried to work the latch on Her belt. It was a belt with a strange buckle and he couldn’t figure it out. To have him let go of her, for him to leave her alone, she said, “Let me, I’ll do it.”

He watched her.

When she was done, he unzipped the jeans she wore.

“Now take off your shirt.”

She had a cardigan sweater on. She took that off. He reached over to help unbutton her shirt. He fumbled.

“I’ll do it,” She said again.

She unbuttoned the oxford-cloth shirt and, like the cardigan, She peeled it back from her body. It was like