‘Jon, I want you Jon. I mean it. I want you.’ Jon smiled. Ida claimed his lips. He removed his fingers—Ida groaned, ‘No, please don’t go.’...��and pulled at her spandex shorts, determined to show her how much he loved her. Her small hand stopped him. ‘Say it.’ Ida demanded playfully into his collar bone. ‘Say this means something.’ That is wasn’t some childhood fantasy or bet that would leave her alone in the morning. ‘Say it.’ Jon lifted her face towards him, his thick fingers curling against her. We were young and most of the problems we had incurred in our own lives were now someone else's problems. Another bright side was that we hadn't become some kind of freaks like a lot of the people of this generation seemed to like to turn themselves into with pierced tongues and eyebrows and such with purple or green hair. Just an average looking young couple. On the other hand, it would mean having to get used to being a real woman all the time, even during that time of the month and every. More

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