I had heard my friends describing repelling boys’ maulings. I raised my lips to my brother’s ear and whispered “pinch it.”
He immediately drew back, the puzzlement on his face clear. The first order of business; the other team’s pitcher. Avoiding any glances from Paul I chatted with my parents’ about their evening until Mom asked about the game we’d watched on TV. Batter number three looped another single to reach first base, bringing up my brother. Oh. Girlfriends’ stories of overly eager boyfriends, of hands virtually mauling them…didn’t seem to apply to my brother as his patient, loving caresses continued. Do I want to stop? Dinner almost ready, my Dad was the first to notice me and smiled as he said “My, my, don’t we look fetching this evening; do you have a date that we haven’t heard about?” I could feel the blush as I replied that, no, I didn’t have a date but that I just felt like dressing nice for a change, eliciting laughter all around and an inscrutable glance from my brother, looking up and holding his inspection just a little longer than a brother might. The second glances I got from a few of his teammates told me my closet-mining had paid dividends. Once again I felt the nascent power of sex, the power that I was
