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I was nineteen, in my freshman year of college, and my girlfriend Victoria was eighteen. My birthday is in September, which is an awkward month as far as public schooling is concerned, for we September-ites are always either a year older or a year younger than our peers, depending on the day and when our mothers decide to ship us off to school. Vicky was a young eighteen, too, so when Halloween rolled around that year she had just quit seventeen. As such I was substantially older than her, and this sometimes caused a tension between us; even though the different in our ages was only a year, at that age a year is a lot. Especially as experience is concerned. For her sexual inexperience was no kind of mirror for my own somewhat seasoned background, and the degree of chastity necessary between us was always the question of the hour. We had made out plenty, with all the lovely "heavy petting" to accompany it, but had not yet pushed it to the next level.

On Halloween we went out, not so much trick-or-treating (for we were too old, right?) as simply walking and enjoying one another's company, experiencing the night in all its kitschy and -- at times -- realistic spookiness. At one point we did venture into a neighborhood, and as we were dress in costumes, we managed to blend in semi-well with the rest of the crowd of children and score some candy (and, of course, get in touch with our inner-children at the same time). There were four of us that night; I was dressed as a voodoo death god, wearing my glowing skeleton-print-on-black outfit with a suit jacket and tophat, while ...

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