The first time I ever did it, I didn’t bleed. I was 17
in my parents’ bed with my sister’s boyfriend.
When he rolled off of me, I pulled up the sheets
between my legs. I must be bloodless. Later that
night he called me and said that he wouldn’t
do it with me again unless I promised him a
blow job. I had picked up the phone in the kitchen.
It was a rotary phone. Baby blue. On the wall
to the left of the stove. My father thought we
could use another extension, and so had called
the phone company the week before to come out
and install it. My sister and I stood in
the dining room to watch. When they drilled
the screws into the kitchen wall, bits of plaster
fell from the ceiling onto our heads like an early snow.
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