Читать книгу Election - Том Перротта - Страница 19

MY EX-GIRLFRIEND WAS a kisser. I went out with her a whole year and never even unhooked her bra. She was perfectly happy to make out for three hours at a stretch, but if I so much as tried to untuck her shirt, everything came crashing to a halt.

“Paul,” she'd say in this shocked voice, like I'd just whipped out a pair of handcuffs. “What are you doing!”

I guess that's why I was so amazed when Lisa started unbuttoning my shirt after just a few minutes of kissing. Her mother was at work, and I realized pretty quickly that she wasn't fooling around. Her face was hot and she was breathing in these hard little gulps. She took my hand and pulled me toward her bedroom.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

She said yes. She fumbled for something in her dresser drawer and told me she'd be right back.

Time seemed to expand while I waited for her, but I felt totally focused, totally connected to the moment, the way I did sometimes on the football field.

“Close your eyes,” she said from the hallway.