Senior week 1989. Myrtle beach.

I lay on top of her and we were basking in the afterglow. She'd decided that when we met, two days ago, that she'd have me in bed by the end of the night. And she did.

She said I was her second, I think she was adding one to that number. And as we lay there panting, she curled one finger around my face, and said my full name in a breathy, Wow tone... and I looked down, and smiled... and drew a complete fucking blank.

She had to tell me her name again.

And she didn't kick me out of bed.

And to this day I won't sleep with someone whose name I have to ask for (at least from them) twice.

Peace.

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Was her name Mulva?

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Nope. Tracie.

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