It was over a week later that I went into her room late one evening when she was out. I’d been getting ready for bed, and all I had on was my pyjama...trousers, and my feet were bare. I don’t know what I expected to find — perhaps more books, or maybe photographs. I tried the drawer of her bedside table, but it was locked. I wondered if I’d be able to pick the lock, or perhaps find the key, but then I suddenly heard the toilet flush in the bathroom, and I realised that Mum had come home early.I. Not even when she could do so in a gleeful tone! In the mean time she had to fill in with some kind of empty talk….before she got down to the things she was dying to talk about. A new wave of nervousness came and passed, almost like stings of physicalagony! After a few deep breaths she felt a little better. "Wonderful! You look beautiful! Lucky me to get to know such a young girllike you!" Another rather clumsy expression, but at least the smile didn't feel allthat stiff and unnatural this. I looked his face over carefully, inspecting every inch. His green eyes, the way his mouth automatically pouted, the little freckle right over his top lip. The thought passed over me that he was cute. My face reddened. I had just called my guy best friend cute. My gaybest friend. I looked back into his light green eyes, and he stared back. It was silent as he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. My mind told me it was wrong to be kissing him, but who was I kidding. I knew I liked it, I. But still I remained quiet. Her next questions were even more unexpected, "Would you mind me watching you masturbate, or letting me do it for you?" and as she asked she placed her hand over my erection: stroking me through the sheets. By now I had become slightly more adventurous, and tentatively I reached forward to stroke Sara’s bare legs; I even asked if I could lift up her T-shirt to look underneath. But, suddenly, as my hand moved to her thigh, Sara got up and hurried towards the bedroom.