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Craig was interested in Sandy, if he wasn’t interested in Peggy Cameron. Sandy was a nice girl, and he’d been interested in her since he’d met her. He liked talking to her, but, these days, he liked kissing her even more. He’d like to go further, but he didn’t know how or how much she would accept. He was thinking of his dilemma the next Saturday when Dad told him to go to the hardware store with him.

“Still going out with the same girl? Sandra isn’t it?” Dad asked when they were in the car.

“Yeah -- or Sandy.” She was really only ‘Sandra’ when he was introducing her formally. Still, he could understand Dad’s not knowing. He’d been introduced formally.

“Think she might be the one?” He was still pondering that question when they pulled into the hardware store’s parking lot. The truth was that he thought she was the one, but he didn’t know when he’d decided that. She had started off as a not-too-bratty younger sister of a pain-in-the-ass friend of Linda’s.

He didn’t see what Dad needed him for in the hardware store. He got what he was looking for and paid the cashier. He handed Craig the bag, but it was light enough to carry in one hand. Dad hadn’t needed him at the store, which meant that the conversation had been the purpose of the trip. So, what should he tell Dad?

“I think she might be the one,” he said when he got in.

“Well, certainty at your age would be premature. But the rules of treating the maybes are the rules for treating the certainties. Y’know, after we were married, I had a long discussion with your mother about the dating scene. It wasn’t about you or Linda; it was long before Linda was born. It was about what we’d gone through and our friends. I talked about how boys had to ask and the nervousness of that. I told about the number of times I’d dialed half her number before I got on the phone to ask her for the first date. I wasn’t honest enough to tell her of the girls in high school I had funked on calling.

“She was more honest than I was. She talked about wanting a boy to ask her, and the boy never did. She had been waiting for my call, but mine wasn’t the first call she’d been waiting for.” At that point, they were parked in the driveway, but Dad made no move to get out.

“Yeah?” He got enough history in school, but there was a point to this -- a point Dad was avoiding. They had had that talk already, and it had embarrassed Dad as much as it had embarrassed him. If Dad was leading up to a second round, he was putting it in a context that was totally wrong.

“All I’m saying is that it’s hard on you, but it’s hard on her, too. You say that you don’t quite know how you feel about her. Well, she might not quite know how she feels about you, either.” That didn’t make him any happier.

“Maybe. She gave me a valentine.”

“Did you give her one, too?” Dad asked this sharply.

“Yeah -- before she did.”

“Good. So, she knows a little about what you feel for her, and you know a little about what she feels for you. All I’m saying is that you have a long time ahead of you. Take it slowly.” Dad always thought he had a long time ahead of him. Dad and Mom didn’t want Craig to start living for another ten years.

“What does going slow mean?” Not that he was going fast with Sandy, or going anywhere with her, for that matter.

“I’ve seen you kiss her. You want more. Don’t try to deny it. I’m a male even if you think I’m an old man. You want a lot more. Okay, you can’t have all that you want. There is a next step. I could start laying out the steps for you, but you can lay them out for yourself, and you and she are part of the same culture. Kids today may have slightly different rules than kids did when I was growing up.” Craig hoped so. Didn’t girls back in the old days expect a proposal before the first kiss?

“Anyway,” Dad continued, “if you think she might be the one, you go slow. You take one step at a time. You move toward that step slowly enough that she can say no. You do not grab. If you get one more step on one date, you don’t try for any more steps on the next couple of dates. If she says no, you respect that. You ask her out again, and you don’t try for what she’s denied you the last time.

“Look, if you have to stop at the kisses, are you going to want to drop her?”

“Hell no!” Though, if they had to stop at the kisses, that might mean that Sandy didn’t care as much for him as he did for her.

“That’s more convincing than your statement that you think she might be the one. You care for the girl and not just your jollies. Then let her know that. Don’t -- God forbid -- say that explicitly. Act like it is true and like you were a sensible guy for whom it is true. You think I try to run your life, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” That had been a damned stupid question while they sat in the car with Dad trying to run his life.

“And you don’t like it.” Then why did he keep doing it? “Well, you’re an independent human being, and I try to treat you as one, maybe not quite as much as you would wish I did.” Not quite as much meaning not at all. “But Sandra is an independent human being, too. She wants to decide about her life, and part of her life is what parts of her body boys can touch.” That ‘boys’ was like a knife through him. He could remember that sleaze, Charlie Delray, holding her tight and obviously feeling her tits press into his chest.

“Don’t talk like that.”

“Well, I wouldn’t talk like that if I were convinced that you didn’t want to act like that.” Dad stopped then, maybe waiting for him to deny that he wanted to touch Sandy’s tits. But he wasn’t going to deny it, partly because it would be a lie, partly because Dad wouldn’t believe that lie, and mostly because he was not prepared to discuss Sandy’s tits with anybody, much less Dad.

“So, you give her a chance to make that decision. When she makes it, you accept it. Let me tell you something. If she likes you at all...”

“She did give me that valentine.”

“Then she does want your touch, at least the next stage -- the next step as she sees it, not necessarily the next step as you see it. She also, if she is a good girl...”

“She’s a very nice girl.”

“And even maybe if she isn’t and wants you to think that she is or wants some others to think that she is...”

“She’s a damned nice girl. I don’t know why you’re trying to tear her down.”

“Well, a nice girl doesn’t want to be touched like that. And, as I’ve said, some not-so-nice girls don’t either. So, she probably wants but doesn’t want your touch. She definitely wants to be in control. It’s being in control of herself. So, you let her make the decision.

“That means,” Dad continued, “that being with you is an experience of being in control. Being with her parents is doing what they say. Being in class is doing what the teacher says. Being with you is an experience of making the decisions; she decides for herself, which is critically important to her, and she decides a little bit for you, which is a treat at her age. It would be a treat at your age, no?”

“Just deciding for myself would be a treat at my age.” All this talk of independence and control of yourself, and Dad was trying to control him and restrict his independence. “At least I think so. Never really having had the experience, I can only guess.”

“Well, all the independence anybody has, even the freest adult, is to decide knowing the consequences. All I’m telling you is the likely consequences. Grab, and you’re likely to lose all your chances at her. Ask in a way that she sees as nagging, and she’s likely to find somebody who doesn’t nag.

“Anyway,” Dad said, “I have no more pearls to cast. I’ll take the washers in. You can do what you want.” He took the keys with him, though, so Craig could do what he wanted on foot. He went back to his room.

Horrible as Dad’s ‘advice’ had been, he needed to think about how he treated Sandy. One part had been sensible. Sandy was a teen just as he was, and she suffered under the same pressures. Everybody told him what to do, and he was sure everybody told her what to do, too. For that matter, he knew that her mom and her dad told her what to do, because they sometimes told him. It made sense that Sandy didn’t want him telling her what to do. Still, he wanted to do things with Sandy. Was it possible that Dad was right that she wanted to do the same things with him? Well, not everything. He really wanted to go all the way, and she wasn’t the sort of girl who would do that, or even think of that. But there was lots of stuff that all the guys did -- or said that they did. They went much further than he had with Sandy.

Well, Dad said that she wanted to do some of that but also didn’t want to do it, too. That sounded silly, but his going to college was something like that. He wanted to be a college-graduate adult; he didn’t want to spend six more years in classrooms. (Some days, six more weeks in classrooms sounded like a new, improved version of hell.) And if he wanted to go further than Sandy would let him, he needed her to be able to say that she wouldn’t without dropping him entirely. If he moved slowly toward touching her tits, would she stop him without leaving him? It sounded possible.

Sunday, after all that time of Dad’s trying to run his life, Linda started on her graduation. It was the second most important event of the century to hear her tell it, and the prom was the first. After the prom, there would be an all-night party at Barb’s. He wondered what they would do with Sandy.

Monday, after school, it was chilly, and they had their hands in gloves in their pockets. He wanted to ask her to the movies, but she went on and on about her sister. Barb had broken up with Tom. He barely knew Tom, and he knew but didn’t like Barb. Still, he listened; it was important to her, and she was important to him. Finally, they got nearly to the corner where she turned south.

“Look,” he broke in, “The Alamo is coming back to the movie house. Would you like to go see it Friday? I thought that it was a good movie.”

“Why, Craig, I’d love to. I’ve never seen it.”

“Then you definitely should. Is it a date, then?”

“Yes,” she said.

“We can settle all the other details tomorrow.” And they went their ways. They really didn’t have anything to settle, though. Taylor’s was only a bit further from her house than the high school was, and parking was harder to get around the movie. Still, that was only a couple of minutes put together and they had a whole hour after they left to get her home. He took her hand in the movie, and she didn’t try to draw it away. Dad had said that you should touch only one thing new on a date, a couple of dates, really. Was her hand really new? He’d touched her hand lots of times before, if he’d never held it like that.

They had so much time when they parked, he started out with kisses. He loved her kisses, her willingness to kiss. He ran his hands through her hair, and she didn’t object. She had pretty hair, but it felt better than it looked. He rested his hand on her shoulder while he continued the kiss. He knew where he wanted to put his hand, but he was afraid. Finally, he deepened the kiss and drew his hand slowly toward her tit.

It felt lovely and smooth under his fingers. It felt alive, which he realized was silly. It was alive, but so was the rest of her -- her face, her head, her shoulder which he had been touching before he brought his hand down.

“That’s enough,” she said, removing his hand. It wasn’t anywhere near enough for him, but he raised his hands to her face. ‘That’s enough’ was a stop sign, but it wasn’t a no trespassing sign. It seemed to mean, like Dad had suggested, that she might enjoy those touches, too. And quitting when she said to quit meant that he might start it again. She might even allow him more next time. He had touched her smoothness, or the coat which was over the blouse which was over the bra which was over her smoothness. He hadn’t got anywhere near the nipple.

When he kissed her on the front porch, he was careful to lean over in such a way that his boner was far from her. Then he went home to his room to take care of it.

The next dance, they would only have half an hour afterwards. He, however, had a long time to enjoy her company during the dance. His hand was supposed to be on her waist for the slow dances, and for much of the year, he’d actually held her a little higher than her actual waist, on the back of her rib cage. The waist felt so sexy bending and turning, though. He let his hand drift lower and lower during each slow dance. Finally, in the last dance, he had his main fingers lying in the groove of her waist and his little finger enjoying the tightening and loosening of her rump.

In the car, he would enjoy the part she was certain to allow him. He held her by the shoulders while he kissed her and, still holding the kiss, stroked down her arms to her hands. He liked to feel her. He repeated the grip on her shoulders for another long kiss. Then he stroked down -- not her arms -- but the front of her coat. Somewhere in there, if not particularly detectable through the material, were her nipples. This time, he had both hands on her tits. And, wonderfully, this time she didn’t tell him to stop. Instead, she held his face in the kiss. On her porch for the goodnight kiss, he held her tight. He had a boner, but there were two coats and other winter clothes between them. Anyway, knowing that what was pressed against his boner was Sandy, even if a well-wrapped Sandy, was arousing.

Although Sandy had held his hand through The Alamo, he could tell that she hadn’t enjoyed it as greatly as he had. Her favorite movie was Three Coins in the Fountain, which was a sappy romance. So, when the next movie at Taylor’s was a first-run sappy romance, he took her to it. If they couldn’t both enjoy the same movies, they could both enjoy movie dates, even if one after the other. It turned out that sappy romances were more enjoyable while holding the hand of a pretty girl. Her grip tightened -- not a real squeeze -- every time the guy kissed the girl. She wasn’t really saying ‘Take notes’; she might not have known she was doing it at all. Still, he tried to see what the guy’s technique was. Aside from bending the girl over backwards, which didn’t look too practical standing up and was impossible in the car, he didn’t see much different from how he did it.

Anyway, Sandy was in a good mood when they left the movie house. When they parked, she cooperated enthusiastically in the kiss. He was determined to actually feel her tit or die trying. When he started unbuttoning her coat, she froze, but she didn’t tell him to stop. Then her tit was in his hand, and he gave new attention to the kiss. While she didn’t lose her tension, her kisses back were sexy.

He didn’t go much further on later dates, but he didn’t back off either. Sandy lost her tension as she grew used to the touches, although sometimes, he could see her develop another kind of tension as the session went on. The sides of her tits were soft under all that material, and his fingers could detect that softness, not quite everywhere. Okay, he knew the shape of bras, knew that an empty bra would feel pointed on the end. Still, he would swear that he could feel Sandy’s nipples.

Once, while he was kissing her and feeling that special point, the horn blared. They both jumped and sat back in their places. Immediately after that, though, he realized it was his car’s horn.

“I think my elbow hit the horn,” he told her. “Sometimes I hate the steering wheel. Would you like to move in back?”

“We only have minutes,” she replied. She was right.

“Next time, then?” He tried to sound casual, but moving into the back seat was a big deal. Besides, she had only really cooperated in the kisses. She didn’t stop him from doing the rest, but she didn’t, for instance, unbutton her own coat. If they were going into the back seat, she would have to go back under her own power.

“Next time,” she agreed. And that meant that they weren’t only a couple, a couple with a next time, but that they were a couple who made out.

“In back?” he asked when he’d parked after the next dance. She got in back and he joined her. They had the sweetest kiss before he opened her coat to feel her tit. He had to wait a while, but the next step was opening her blouse.

After the next movie, though, Sandy said that they had to come right back, and he had to come in and talk with her parents.

“What about?” Had she told them what he was doing? It didn’t seem likely, and -- after all -- she could have told him to stop. When she had, he had stopped. Were these new rules?

“I don’t know, but let’s go face the music.” So, that is what they did.

Despite his fears, Mrs. Jackson met them with smiles and cups of cocoa. She left after drinking her cup, and, when he and Sandy had finished theirs, he sat with his arm around Sandy’s back in the living room watching Gunsmoke. That was as much touching as he dared while her parents were upstairs.

He thanked her again for the cocoa Monday after school. “There isn’t a sock hop, Friday,” he continued. She nodded. Well, all the kids knew that. “Would you like to go to a movie Friday night?”

“Oh, thank you.” She didn’t even ask what the movie would be, which was lucky, because he hadn’t checked. They had a regular date. He would try to get her to sit in the balcony even though she was a freshman. They didn’t have to act like the wildest kids did up there, but they were a couple, and they should sit in the balcony just like they sat in the back seat. That’s what couples who were really couples did.

Tuesday, he met her at her exit, but they both walked faster. The sky was overcast, and the weather was cold and windy. A drizzle started Tuesday evening long after he -- and presumably she -- was safe back home. It rained all night, and Mom drove Linda and him to school Wednesday morning.

“I’ll pick you up tonight,” she said. “The radio says this is going to keep up forever.”

“Thanks Mom.” And he was grateful. On the other hand, that meant not seeing Sandy after school, and she would be expecting him. He walked slowly to English until he saw her going the other way. Then he turned and walked with her.

“My mom drove me to school today,” he said

“So did mine.” Which meant that he couldn’t offer her a ride.

“I’m being picked up tonight. I can’t leave by the usual exit.”

“I’m being picked up, too. And so is Barb. So, I can’t change.”

“I just wanted you to know. I’m not avoiding you.” He liked dancing with her in his arms and her tits against his chest, and he liked seeing her jiggling in front of him. He really liked parking after dates and kissing. But he liked simply talking with her, too. He was afraid she would think he only wanted to be with her when he could cop a feel.

“That’s okay,” Sandy said. “I understand ... Look, I have to get to biology.” And she hurried away. Thursday, the rain and the rides kept up.

He almost took her hand when they walked home Friday, but he had more steps planned for the date. She didn’t argue at all about the balcony when they got to the movie, and she didn’t push his arm away when he put it around her. All he felt was her shoulder, but it was a nice warm shoulder, and it was Sandy.

Parking afterwards, Sandy got into the back seat as if she expected to. They kissed and he felt her tits outside the blouse. It was a thinner blouse than she’d worn earlier, which made the bra -- if not her tits themselves -- more obvious to his touch.

The next week after the dance, he tried for a French kiss. Sandy didn’t quite cooperate, but she didn’t really resist when he put his tongue into her mouth. The thrill when their tongues met was incredible. He suddenly understood what all the talk was about. He stroked her leg, another step and one he hadn’t intended to take that week. Still, Sandy didn’t resist that, either.

It was after a dance, though, and they only had been allowed half an hour. He took more than that, and they got back late. Mr. Jackson came out the door as he walked Sandy to the porch. He demanded an apology, and Craig gave a sincere one. He then turned on his daughter, bawled her out, and sent her inside. Then he threatened to forbid her any more dates with Craig if it happened again. Well, Craig would see that it didn’t happen again. Maybe he shouldn’t try to take any new steps on dance nights.

A block after Sandy turned south Wednesday night, he caught up with Jerry, who didn’t seem to be really interested in going home. He was a little nervous, because Jerry had been a real bully at one time. They were more nearly of a size now, and Jerry hadn’t threatened him for more than a year. Anyway, he didn’t seem to have anyone with him.

“I wouldn’t mind having some of that,” Jerry said nodding in the direction that Sandy had taken.

“Wait.” Craig suddenly remembered the jeering in the fall. “Weren’t you one of the guys who said I was dating a baby? Changed your mind?”

“Well, she was a baby back then. She didn’t have the tits she has now.” That was true, though he didn’t like Jerry talking about Sandy’s tits. He thought about them a lot, but he didn’t want to talk about them, especially to Jerry.

“Well, that’s the way it goes. You’re friends with a girl as she grows up, and she thinks you might be interested in her, not in how she fills a shirt.”

“How do they fill your hands?”

“She’s only a freshman, and her dad’s awfully strict. He’d be on my case if I grabbed.” Implying that he would be on Jerry’s case, too. Jerry was a junior, with all the social advantages that gave him over Craig. He didn’t want Jerry going after Sandy. They walked along until Jerry turned in, but they didn’t say anything else.

When he got home that night, Mom had news. She’d been talking about going to work, and she had a job as a cashier in the A&P.

In the movie that Friday, her tit was calling his hand. He didn’t quite dare answer that call there in the movie house even though the guy in front of them had his hand on his girl’s tit. He hadn’t noticed them when he and Sandy had sat behind them, but he thought they might be seniors.

When they were alone in the car, he cuddled her under his arm and reached her tit. She didn’t object; she even burrowed into his side as though she enjoyed it. He let his left hand rove for a bit. Then he began to unbutton her blouse, not too easy with your left hand. She stiffened, but she didn’t push his hand away. Finally, his hand reached her skin. It wasn’t the skin of her tit; the bra was still covering that. It was, however, skin that her blouse normally covered, and it felt sexy as hell. She shivered, but she didn’t resist.

He was careful to break the kiss while she had lots of time to arrange her clothing. They got to her house with maybe five minutes to spare, and he wanted her so much right then. When he kissed her good night, he pulled her against him by her butt. She was firm against his boner, and when he took care of it that after leaving her, it didn’t take long at all.

He had been neglecting the idea of a dessert after the movies. The truth was that he enjoyed the parking so much that he didn’t want to spend that time with others watching. Still, that wasn’t really fair to Sandy, and he didn’t want her to think that all he wanted from her was to feel her tits. He didn’t even want her to know how important feeling her tits was to him. He took care the next time to take Sandy for a cone at the Dairy Queen. They only had a few minutes afterwards, but they did get to talk with some others and established themselves as a couple in another way, and her mouth tasted interesting when they had an open-mouthed kiss.

The senior prom was coming up, but it was a dance for the whole school. He was careful to ask Sandy soon after the previous dance. She said she wasn’t certain she could stay out that late. The next day, though, she accepted.

Sandy wore heels for the prom and a fancy dress. He bought her a corsage, as Mom told him to. He pinned the corsage on her with her parents and sister looking on. He felt awkward as hell, and conscious as hell that her tit was right under the pin. It went well, though. Sandy danced fairly well in heels, although his arm around her waist was higher and his hand was slightly lower on her back. He had two fingers on her butt. The teachers had all their attention on the seniors, and with good reason. They saw one guy propose that night, and Sandy was really impressed. Well, he wasn’t going to be in any position to propose for her senior prom, let alone for his.

They didn’t kiss much after the prom. Sandy’s dress was zipped up the back, and she didn’t want him to unzip it. Considering how long she might need to get her dress redone, how short a time they had, and all the other complications, they just kissed. Still, if he didn’t get under that dress, he stroked a lot of skin that she usually covered up. They started after ten, and he was careful to get her back less than half an hour after the prom had finished.

Linda had planned to spend prom night at Barb’s, but Mom had doubts about that. She finally threatened to call Barb’s Mom and check on all the details. Linda called it off. He hadn’t heard anything from Sandy about that party, and he had his suspicions. If Linda were going to spend the night, though, and not spend it with Barb, what were she and Larry planning to do?

Right after the prom was graduation. He was totally in the shade. He and Sandy talked after school every day, and he sometimes walked further toward her home. Even they, though, talked as much about their sisters’ graduation as about themselves.

Mom got him a job as bag boy starting after classes were over. He wasn’t thrilled, but Linda got a job as cashier, too. Anyway, Mom and Dad agreed that some of his earnings would go into a savings account to be spent when he went to college and some would be his spending money, more than his old allowance.

He learned three things in his first week of working. One, there were things more boring than school. Two, bag boys, unlike cashiers, got occasional tips. Three, extra income didn’t do him any good when he didn’t have any place to spend it. He started to get used to the hours, and he discovered that Wednesday was his day off. Well, he knew how he wanted to spend his time off. The question was whether he could. He called Sandy the Wednesday night after he got paid.

“Well, hi.” She sounded happy to hear from him. He explained that he was working at the A&P.

“Look,” he finished up, “I work most weekends, now. And the hours are awful. And, of course, there aren’t any dances. But would you like to go to the movies next Wednesday?”

“Well, it’s not a school night anymore. I’ll ask.” She set the phone down so gently that he could barely hear the click. She was nearly shouting when she took it up again. “She said yes.” He liked the way she talked about it. The question wasn’t whether Sandy wanted to go out with him; the question was whether she was allowed to.

He picked her up a little early. Mr. Jackson came to the door, but instead of raising problems, he spoke kindly until Sandy came downstairs. He and Sandy had so much to talk about, but he began with their last date when he had her in the car.

“I really enjoyed dancing with you at the prom. Did you enjoy it?”

“Yeah.”

“Ankles all right, now?” She giggled.

“Yeah.”

The movie house was nearly empty, and the balcony was closed off. They sat in the main floor, but pretty far from the next person. She seemed to welcome his hand around her shoulders. He tried to resist the call of her tit, but he couldn’t for long. Only the fingers of his right hand touched it, and she didn’t object.

It had been so long since they had been together. When they went into the back seat, he kissed her hungrily. Her mouth seemed to welcome his tongue, and her taste gave him the boner of his life. Her tits were so soft. He kissed the rest of her face, unable to express how much he wanted her.

“I love you, Sandy.” Those were the words.

“I love you, too, Craig.” He had known that she liked him, that she accepted his invitations. She had never said anything like that before. He loved her so much, wanted her so much. He started unbuttoning her blouse to reach her. She opened it for him, and then started on the shirt he was wearing. The feel of her tits through her bra and the feel of her skin under his fingers was exciting, but the feel of her fingers on his chest was even more exciting. He was simply wallowing in all those sensations when she pulled back.

“Craig!”

“What’s wrong?” Had he done too much? But she had accepted it all as he was doing it.

“What time do you have?” Oh. It was late.

“Ten - fifteen. Damn!”

He buttoned his shirt after getting into the front seat. She waited to get into the passenger seat until she was decently dressed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I got carried away and forgot the time.”

“It didn’t seem like that long.” And it hadn’t felt like that long to him, either. It had felt like one glorious moment.

Well, her Dad opened the door when she was going up the porch stairs. He slammed the door in his face. When he phoned Thursday before going in to work, she gave him the bad news. She was grounded for two weeks. They wouldn’t even reduce it one day to let her have a date on the only day he had free. Two weeks later, though, he called her and asked her to another movie that coming Wednesday.