by Bill Tope
Aiden hummed along to Van Morrison’s romantic ballad “Crazy Love,” while sitting in the hammock strung across the double window in his attic apartment. It was a tune unlike any other in his listening experience, and was the premiere cut off a new LP he’d just purchased at the record store. It had set him back $2.98 but was well worth it, he thought. The college freshman had worked for two hours pushing a dust mop across the slate floors of the student union in order to pay for the album, but he had no regrets. To put it in terms that his friends could understand, Moondance had cost Aiden about thirty joints.
It was worth it because now he and Sally could make love to the ballad. He smiled. “Make love.” He enjoyed the sound of that. Before Sally he had only screwed and humped and, as his older sister would say, with virtuous relish, “fornicated.” But with Sally, it was different. She was older–nearly 20–and with her, he “made love.” He blew out a breath. Just thinking of Sally was making him hot.
Should he…take care of it? he wondered. No, he would save himself for Sally. Aiden’s sexuality was more sophisticated than it used to be. Besides, no sense in risking going blind.