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“Shelly, I can NOT believe that I’m going to homecoming. I can’t dance. I’ve never BEEN to a dance.” I briskly filed through the clothes in my closet, looking for “dancewear.”

“Sam. Andy asked you. That’s why you’re going. And don’t worry about the dancing. It’s just grinding and groping on the dance floor. And you and Andy already have THAT down to a science, I’m sure. . .”

“So,” I said, cursing myself for having confided in Shelly about the extent of my relationship with Andy. She hadn’t stopped nagging about when we would have sex since I told her Andy and I hadn’t had it yet. “What does one wear to these affairs?”

“Anything. . .do you have something short and slinky?” Shelly laughed. “Oh, wait. I forgot who I was talking to!”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but do you have something I can borrow? I can’t believe I’m doing this for a guy. That it even MATTERS what I wear.”

“Like you’ll be wearing it very long. . .”

“Shelly! Stop pumping and bring over some suitable dancewear!”

“I guess you only like being pumped by one person. . .” ...

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