Let's Go Play at the Adams'

"Wrestling?" John was curious and interested. "Not wrestling. Just . . . grabbing and

pawing.

Girls don't like that," she said. "I hate it."

"Can I kiss you?"

"No, John, I don't want to." "Why?"

"It's silly. It doesn't mean anything that way." "Yes, it does."

''How can it?"

"Well-I like you-"

"Ah." There were a great many directions in which Barbara suddenly did not want to

see this little

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conversation develop, and in self-defense and puzzlement she fell silent.

- "Are you mad or something?"

"No," Barbara said quickly. "No. Really. It's ..• nice. I'm glad you like me but. ... "

"You still don't want to."

"Well, it's not very romantic for me"-she was a

little short-"like this."

"You couldn't stop me." "That makes it worse."

John slid to his feet and stood beside her and very much over her.

Barbara turned and looked the other way but said nothing. It was suddenly very quiet-to

her, at any rate. She expected any second for him to put the moves on her, grab her hair,

pull at her gown-it could be anything-and she decided not to make a fuss. He was right;

she couldn't stop him anyhow.

Instead, however, she felt him take her wrist and pull it around behind the back of the chair

again. "Give me your other hand."

"Oh, John, no. Please." "Give it to me."

"I don't want to. Please! It's early yet." "All right, then, don't give it to me."

"Ouch! Ow! I will, I will. But don't make it so

tight. You're doing it worse than it was."

"No, I'm not."

"But my hands are sore now .... " "I can't help it."

"Please stop. You can kiss me if you want to. I don't mind."

He had begun tightening the rope around her body and the chair. When he spoke, he

hesitated only a second and then went on with his work. Afterward and silently, he retied

her ankles to the cornered legs of the chair, cinching up on them vengefully.

Ouch, Barbara said. Damn. I pushed him away and made him mad. He's just like a man, or

men are just like children. They try and grab you and kiss you

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and run their hand up under your dress with that terribly randy look in their eyes, and you

might even let them if it weren't for green teeth braces or pimples or if a kiss would get rid

of them. The trouble is, Barbara said, a kiss never ends anything but an old movie. Quite

the contrary, she had found out: it was a place to begin with the other hand coming around

under your breast and fumbling with buttons and all the rest. And if you stopped them,

they went back to the frat house or wherever and called you frigid or did something mean

when they got the chance. Men had just one use for women, and women-Barbara, most

certainly-wanted so much more.

She watched John stand up, obviously satisfied with his work. He hurt me, he is hurting me,

that'll teach me. She thought. Moreover, he wouldn't kiss me now if I begged him. I'm dirt.

Instead he's going to let me learn my lesson well, hours of it. Barbara would have liked to

do any number of womanish things-slam doors, yell, throw something at him, slap him-but

none, of course, were possible. Instead she bowed her head, chastised, and weakly said,

"I'm sorry, John." The tone of her voice was very soft and nice, but it didn't regain anything.

Instead he was the silent one now. He stood looking her over-Barbara did not raise her

head but she could feel it--on an almost inch-by-inch basis. After a long while, he said, "I'll

be back later." Quickly, Barbara heard him out in the living room, rummaging around in Dr.

Adams' liquor cabinet. Although he had not done anything like it so far, he was obviously

going to take a drink and get himself into a teen-aged mood, So much for Sexy Barbara's

activities.

I could never be a sexy person, anyhow, Barbara said. I just don't like what happens when

everybody gets going like that.

An hour later, when Cindy came in so that he could take a swim, John's conversation with

Barbara no longer seemed as disappointing to him as it had.

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Unaccustomedly expansive after several ounces of Scotch, he even considered the talk

something of a success. Pulling on the chopped-off jeans he used for swimming, he reviewed

the afternoon with even a degree of satisfaction.

It was as good as yesterday. Again he had felt the new, the still heady mixture of the girl's

submissiveness and his own mastery, but today he had used that mastery. He bad discovered

that he could tie and untie her, himself. It changed a lot.

John did not think these thoughts out in sequential manner, but he understood what he had

learned well enough. For favors which he was able to give, she more or less had to consent to

being handled. For things he wanted which she could give; he could withhold his favors. That

the favor to be traded was the giving or taking away of pain-he had no doubt that she was

right: it hurt-was a very interesting bonus The most clear kind of power. As with yesterday, he

felt that he had lived through, been shown something terribly fundamental and important, not

simply about himself and Barbara, but about life itself.