"You're making an offer I can't refuse," the boy said, and his eyes were big as silver dollars. "But if you want money, I don't have any."

"I don't want money," Joanne announced, standing back. She pointed at the bulge in his pants. Her eyes got big. "All I want is that!" And she touched him with the tip of her finger, touched the steely stiff erection in his pants.

"That's disgraceful," she heard someone say, and she turned. A fat middle-aged woman was standing a few feet away, puffing as she stared at the couple.

"It may be disgraceful," Joanne said, slurring her words, "but I'm going to get fucked, and it's a disgrace how much I need a fuck." She opened her purse, found the car keys, tossed them to the boy. "You drive," she said. "You shift the gears and I'll play with your stick." With a wink at the fat woman, she climbed into the car. Her hand was in his lap before she got the door shut.

It wasn't the afternoon she'd planned. Ronnie – that was his name, Ronnie – in the car, while she was fondling his swollen bulge and he was trying to keep the car on the road. I'm smashed, Joanne kept telling herself. I wouldn't be doing this if I were sober. Of course not. The liquor has taken hold of me, and I've taken hold of Ronnie. Fair exchange?

He lived in a trailer near the south edge of town, about twenty blocks down Tiffin Street from the campus. He had two room mates, but they were in class. So he explained to Joanne while they were negotiating the distance between her car and the front door of his trailer. It wasn't an easy journey. She had him unzipped now, and her hand was inside his pants, inside his shorts, her fist full of his stiff dick, and she couldn't stand up without assistance, so she was all over him in more ways than one. Once again she was making a public spectacle of herself, if any of his neighbors in the other trailers happened to be watching, but it seemed very unimportant. Her mind was already inside the trailer bouncing on a bed.