There was something hot and quivery crawling around inside me, something just outside the edge of my mind, a kind of secret excitement that seemed to grow bigger with every stroke of the hairbrush, the long down stroke that I could have sworn was getting longer each time. I got dizzy and had to close my eyes, letting my whole body sag and go limp, my head lolling out of balance, the start of a sway that could tumble me right off the vanity bench. And it sure would have, too, except for a little welcome support. Most welcome! She must have moved up closer behind me – I was leaning against her now, the back of my head sinking into softness, the soft prop of her breasts. Like a huge foam-rubber pillow, only warmer, much warmer. A cloud of perfume surrounded me, all mixed up, the powder-sweet sachet smell along with some of that deliciously tangy woman-smell…

Downstairs a door slammed – the front door! – snapping me out of my feverish daze. My fattier was home. And for the first time in my life I found myself almost resenting him; couldn't he have stayed away just a few minutes longer? It affected Bernadette also, she became brisk and businesslike and finished the job quickly. Only I couldn't help wondering what might have happened if we hadn't been interrupted. Nothing, probably, not even if she was like those naked grown-up ladies in the book. Or could lesbians do all that naughty stuff with little girls too?

It was quite a while before the opportunity arose for another sneaky visit to her room. There were numerous possibilities, of course, but none that seemed safe for any length of time, no chance of an undisturbed hour or so with the fascinating volume. And I knew dam well how easy it would be to become engrossed and get caught in the act. So I waited somewhat impatiently, unwilling to take the risk, until at last Bernadette went into the city on one of her Saturday shopping trips, an all-afternoon affair usually, with a slow bus ride both ways.