Free The Speed Queen by Stewart O’Nan Page B

blankets off his side, and in the summer, forget it.
    Or driving, we were always happy driving. We'd be flying down the interstate and all of a sudden he'd pull off. Not into a rest area, just by the side of the road, and we'd climb into the backseat. When the semis came by, the whole car would shake.
    But the best was on speed. Your whole skin was just ready. And Lamont knew that. He'd take his time, going lightly over all of me. The shivers would just rip through you. That's probably it, the one I'd choose. Make it take forever.
    Those aren't really fantasies, but I don't have anything else. All that whipped cream and leather stuff seems silly to me.
    There were a few things Lamont's old girlfriend Alison wouldn't do that I would. I liked doing them for him. He was always grateful, and always kind. We had a rule — everything was okay as long as no one got hurt.
    Lamont liked lingerie —the black satin bras with holes cut in them, the garters. I was happy to wear stuff like that for him but it never did anything for me. Later I cut all of that stuff up right in front of him. But I'm sure we'll get into that later.
    Once I rented hip boots for a costume party, the kind with spike heels. I was going as Vampirella, remember her? He liked them so much that I never took them back. I'd surprise him with them sometimes. I'd pretend like I was getting up to go to the bathroom and come back with them on.
    But for me, I guess I don't get too excited about that stuff anymore, not after Natalie. It's fun but it's not what you really need. In here, you think about that —what you need and what you can do without. You can do without a lot of things. Fantasies might be one of them.
    When I was a kid, I used to have fantasies about sex, but not like fantasies fantasies, more like guesses at what sex was.
    I once saw my mom and dad having sex. It was a Saturday and it was raining, so my dad didn't have to go in to the track. I didn't know that. All I knew is that I wanted someone to put my cartoons on. I had my bunny and my blanky, all I needed was the TV on, so I went into their room to ask.
    My mom's wrists were tied to the bedposts with belts, and her ankles, and there was a pillowcase over her head with holes for her eyes and mouth. My dad was standing above her on the bed. He had a belt on, and something metal on his thing. He balanced a hand on the wall, lifted one foot and stuck his big toe in her mouth.
    "Tell me you like it," he said, and she tried to, but just grunted.
    "Tell me you want it," he said, and she grunted.
    "Where do you want it?"

    She jerked and struggled against the belts, lifting herself off the bed.
    "No," he said. "Not yet."
    He knelt on her shoulders, and I couldn't see her head anymore. I went into the living room and sat on the couch across from the TV.
    "Hey, pumpkin!" my dad said later, when he came out in his bathrobe. "Why didn't you come get us?"
    I used to wonder it every boy had a metal thing on his thing, and if I'd have to wear a pillowcase. In the bathtub, I scrubbed my toes good, and sometimes late at night I'd bend my foot up to my mouth, cover my eyes with my pillow and take a guilty lick. I decided it was like the sip of beer my father offered me at dinner. There was no reason to worry about it. Right now it made me sick but when I was older I'd probably get to like it.
    And it was true, you know. I did.

25
    I moved in with Lamont on November 15th, 1984. Garlyn and Joy helped us move my stuff. They were sorry to see me go but glad to have the room back. They said they wouldn't tell my mom or Rico where I was. I cried a little; I'm not good at saying goodbye.
    Lamont's place was in a complex off East Edwards where there were a lot of college students —Casa Mia. It was loud, but you could get anything you wanted any time of night. Lamont had his own parking spot. Every night he stretched a cover over the 442.
    It was a one-bedroom with a big living room and a kitchenette, a balcony with dusty