Chapter 5: The Bed

She came to my room on Saturday night with her hair loose and nothing on under her nightgown.

I knew because the lamp was behind her.

"I've done the kitchen," she said. "I've done the shower. I've done the desk."

"You have."

"I want the rest of it."

I was sitting on the edge of my bed in the dark, with my boots off and my shirt open.

I had been sitting there for an hour, telling myself I would send her back to her room.

"Come here," I said.

She crossed the floor and stood between my knees.

I put my hands on her hips.

"This one doesn't undo, Iris. Once I'm inside you, you can't go back to not knowing."

"I don't want to go back."

"You might."

"Jack." She took my face in both hands. "I'm twenty-two. I know what I'm asking for."

I looked up at her, and I believed her.

That was the trouble.

I believed her completely, and I took what she offered anyway.

I lifted the nightgown over her head and laid it on the chair.

She stood naked in the lamplight, tall and golden, with her arms at her sides, trusting me to look.

I looked.

Then I laid her down on my bed.

The dark quilt under her was one Martha had pieced, and I did not think about that either.

I kissed her for a long time.

Her mouth, her throat, her breasts.

I kissed down her stomach, and she lifted her hips to my mouth without being asked.

I licked her until she was slick and shaking, and I took her over the edge once with my tongue so she would be loose for me.

She came with her fingers knotted in the sheet.

When she opened her eyes, I was over her, naked, braced on my forearms.

"Ready?" I said.

"Yes."

"It might hurt."

"I don't care."

"I care."

I reached for the drawer, and her hand caught my wrist.

"I take the pill," she said. "You order them with the feed. For my cramps, you said."

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