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Without warning, she said, “Stop Cat, this is no good.” My heart sank, and I raised my slick face to look up at her, my disappointment palpable.As she eased herself away she said, “Come with me and bring a towel.” Lisa offered me her hand as I climbed unsteadily from the tub. “We don’t have much time, let’s hurry,” She urged.Grabbing a fluffy towel I hurried to keep up. I was dripping wet and not quite sure what was happening.“In here quick spread the towel on the bed,” she instructed, giggling.We were in Bonita’s bedroom, and I was lowering myself onto her bed.Lisa climbed over me and my arms opened to welcome her, however she turned herself away from me. Her knees went astride my shoulders, and she lowered her round bottom and pussy to my face. Breathily she said, “I needed to taste you too, Cat. Just do as you were before, you were awesome.”I kissed her thighs and bottom, as she slowly lowered herself onto my delighted face. Rendered sightless, I was smothered by her beautiful. I left the lecture in a state of shock. Camus wasn't the happiest thinker around in those days, but he made a lot more sense than the heroic optimism being forced down my throat by parents and the likes of Boy's Life magazine. The speaker frequently referred to existentialism as "depressing", but I found it energizing because it made sense, it addressed what I was rapidly coming to recognize as my own loss of innocence, my own inability (refusal?) to accept snake oil from the pulpits of Memphis.I dashed from CCNY to the subway and then to a row of psychology bookstores in the West Village. I had little money for the books I found there, and I was dismayed to find that the cost of the books I found listed in the Times would have wrecked my budget. But I saw that browsing was allowed, so I browsed for more than two hours, skimming tables of contents rapidly and racing over the pages as fast as I could, soaking it up. My head raced from one revelation to another, gulping down paragraphs.
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