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When I was 16 years old, and had never kissed a boy, Lee and Witchiepoo had me over for a slumber party at Lee's house. Lee had a semi cute stepbrother named Ian who was over as well. For the first part of our little party, we putzed around in Lee's bedroom. I was amazed by all of her stuff. She seemed so complete and mature, in ways I had never considered. She had a manicure kit, with orange sticks and cotton balls and at least 20 bottles of nail polish - all in some shade of pink or red. This was how women conducted themselves in private, I reflected. She knew how to analyze handwriting, and she told me that my combination of printing and even loopy scrawl was a sign of my creativity. I was flattered. Witchiepoo had tarot cards, which she kept wrapped up in a scarf, to preserve her energy within the cards. They were so grown up, so much better than I was.

Eventually our introspection and cosmetic procedures became boring, and we went into the basement where Ian's room was. Lee got a bottle of Triple Sec out of her parents' liquor cabinet on the way down. We sat there, among Ian's Nagel prints, and started talking about what we would do. Lee suggested that we play Truth or Dare. Ian, who had previously been looking bored, perked up at this. I found out later that this was Lee's favorite game and was prone to becoming quite raunchy.

I also found out later that Lee had slept with her stepbrother. But that's beside the point.

I was dared to lick Ian's foot, and after washing it, I did. Ian dared Lee to eat whipped cream of of Witchiepoo's bra. Lee dared Ian to show us how he could bounce a towel up and down on his penis. This took some cajoling from Lee, and I thought (and prayed to God) that it wouldn't happen. It did. Ian went into his bathroom and was silent for a few minutes. Then, the door cracked open. A white handtowel emerged, floating on nothing. Then Ian's red sleeve. The towel began to jerk up and down, erratically. I was not impressed by this, as a matter of fact, I was intimidated and freaked out. Lee was satisfied. The rest of the game seemed to me like it was Lee's duty to corrupt my innocence. Drink this Triple Sec. French kiss Ian. I put the neck of the bottle to my lips and tilted it back without drinking. I pushed my teeth at Ian. I went home the next morning confused. Lee was no longer just pretty. She was manipulative, she was smart, and she knew a lot more about sex than anyone I'd ever met.

Lee Stories
There was a rumor that Lee and I were gay which we did not exactly dispel. Though we never made out for our own sake we were prone to launching into a little tonsil hockey to amuse her stepbrother. Ian and his male-pattern-baldness friend would lure us into his room for drinks and general goofiness. We would listen to Duran Duran in Ian’s room, walls plastered with Nagle prints (I swear he had fifteen, it looked like a hair salon). Eventually, as if they just thought of it, one of the guys would suggest truth or dare. We always agreed.

The questions/dares were always sexual. Ian always wanted Lee and I too make out, “Open mouthed, full bodied kissing.” He once dared me to lick whipped cream off Lee’s chest (how very dairy).

We obliged and laughed. Silly boner pants boys, their every desire so obvious. We were more than aware of our control over them.

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