‘Fess up — within reason

You could come up with some kind of lame excuse, but opt for the simpler -- if not entirely forthcoming answer: "I'm not presuming anything... I just keep them on hand, you know, just in case."

Clarice looks around quickly, as if she is afraid everyone will notice what she has in her hands, and quickly shoves them back in your shirt pocket. She resumes her dance with you, but you can tell that she is deep in thought.

Finally, she speaks. "You mean, you're not a virgin?" she asks so quietly that you can barely hear her voice over the sound of music.

Before you can stop it, you burst out in a loud guffaw. She looks at you with questioning eyes. You say, "Um... well, not exactly. I sort of cashed in my V-card a while ago."

Clarice nods and is silent for a little while before speaking again. "So how many girls have you slept with?"

You hesitate before answering. Partly because answering truthfully will require a consultation of the latest statistics, and you don't have that good of a memory. Beyond that, you realize that this is evidently a delicate subject for Clarice, and you don't want to shock her and chase her away.

"I've slept with a couple," you say. Technically, that's not far from the truth. You rarely do any sleeping when you are with a chick.

Clarice breaks her silence again. "My cousin, Randy, brags about having slept with four girls. Can you imagine?"

"The cad!" you exclaim, in a shocked voice. At the same time, you can't help but think about that night a few weeks ago when you were with four girls at the same time. It wasn't anything you had planned -- you got invited to a "Girls' Night" at the Delta Pi Delta sorority house, and by a happy accident, one of the girls sent an invitation to "Aron" instead of her girlfriend "Erin." By the time everyone figured out the mistake, you were already well into a very memorable evening.

You realize you've been daydreaming about that night when Clarice suddenly stops dancing, takes a step back and looks down. You follow her gaze and realize that she is staring at your crotch. More to the point, she is staring at the erect protrusion coming from it, that had evidently started to press against her as she danced.

She looks up at you with a mixture of shock and fear. She looks around quickly to see if anyone else notices, and then whispers, "What are you doing?"

"I'm not doing anything," you respond.

"Well what about THAT," she says, pointing down.

"I'm not doing that."

"What do you mean? Can't you control it?"

"Control it? Hell no! Most of the time it controls me!"

She looks around again, and convinces herself that no one is paying attention to you. Based on your experience at school dances, you're pretty confident that you aren't sporting the only boner in the room.

Clarice resumes dancing with you, but with a bit more distinace between the two of you this time.

"Can't you do anything to stop it?" she asks.

This girl is amazing. Is this really her first experience with a hard-on?

"Well, there are two things I could do that immediately come to mind, but either one is likely to get us kicked out of here."

Suddenly Clarice starts laughing and says, "I'm sorry... This hasn't happened to me before." Then, as realization dawns on her, she looks at you and asks, "Is it because of me? Did I do that to you?"

Your concern for her self-esteem prevents you from telling her that this would be happening with just about any female pressed against your body -- or from being exposed to a gentle breeze, for that matter. Instead, you just smile and say, "Yes, I'm afraid it's all your fault. You shouldn't look so beautiful."

Clarice beams with pleasure and puts her head on your shoulder again. After a few steps, her body is pressesd against yours again, and you notice she doesn't shy away from what she feels."

"Does it hurt?" she asks.

You look at her and ask, "Does what hurt?"

She can't bring herself to say it, but she blushes and looks downward with her eyes.

"My boner?" you ask and see her turn bright red in response.

"No, it doesn't hurt," you say. Wow... you're really becoming mature. It wasn't that long ago you would have responded with, "Yes, it hurts, but if you kiss it, it will make it all better!"

You dance for a little longer, and you realize that not only is Clarice not pulling away, but you kind of get the sense that she is intentionally pressing against your waist. Maybe it's your imagination, but whatever it is, you like it.

"Maybe we should sit down," she says. "I'm feeling rather warm."

You go and get some punch for the two of you, and Clarice giggles as she sees you returning to her, walking rather stiff-legged.

"How do you manage walking when you are like that?"

"Every guy learns how," you tell her. "I'm sure Ben has dealt with it, too."

Clarice blushes again at the mention of her ersewhile prom date. "I doubt it," she says.

"Sure he has," you say. "Take a look around.... see those couples walking out the door right now? Notice the way the guys are walking."

Clarice looks in the direction you are pointing, and she sees two young couples, heading out the door. Their pace is a bit quicker than when they walked in, and sure enough, each of the guys is walking a bit awkwardly, in anticipation of what is about to happen when they get alone with their dates.

Clarice seems to be seeing things for the first time. "You mean they're going to...." She's unable to finish the sentence.

"Screw... Fuck.... Get nasty.... Do the horizontal tango... Bump uglies....?" you offer some helpful suggestions.

Clarice gasps and smacks your chest, but she laughs. "I can't believe you just said that! And how did you know that's what they were doing?"

"Because that's what prom is all about," you say, before realizing what just came out of your mouth.

Clarice just looks at you, thoughtfully, and says, "I don't know how you slipped under Gran's radar. If she heard you talking now, she wouldn't have let you anywhere near me."

"Maybe she realizes you are old enough to make your own decisions," you say. "Besides, even your grandmother was young once." You say it, but you have trouble believing it. You have an image of Mrs. Templeton as a high school senior, and you're still seeing a wrinkly face and blue hair in a bun.

"Maybe," says Clarice, doubtfully, "but if it's all the same, I don't think I'll be sharing this part of the night with her when she asks me how it went."

The two of you sit together in silence, finishing your punch, and watching the other students dance. After a while, you turn to Clarice and ask, "Would you like to dance some more?"

Clarice looks down at your lap and asks, "Are you up to it?"