Oh shit, a virgin! he thought, but he was in the grip of his desire and could not stop.
He came soon, and rolled off her and sat up. He saw the blood on the couch. "Are you okay?" was all he could say.
"Oh yes, Roger," she said. She had that dreamy look on her face that girls got. The way girls acted, all gooey and romantic, always puzzled Roger.
What have I gotten myself into? Shit! "You got any beer?" he asked.
"There may be some." She pulled on her pants and hurried into the kitchen and returned in a minute with a big smile on her face and a beer in her hand. "Daddy drank beer. There were a few at the back of the fridge." She had brought a wet cloth and a towel too, and started scrubbing the sofa cushion.
Roger watched her, two opposing thoughts occupying equal space in his mind. Another cherry picked! Prideful, he thought he was getting to be quite a stud. But this was Lacey, the brat - his brat. Remorse stirred in him. All he wanted was to get back home on his own side of the driveway. He drank his beer and stood up.
"Look, Lace. I'm beat. I've gotta go."
"All right, Roger. I am so happy you're here. So glad you are going to help me. I feel so much better. Will I see you tomorrow?" she asked tremulously.
"Yeah, sure."
He walked home and went right to his room, waving his mother off when she asked how things had gone.