I tried again, desperate for breath. She hugged me tighter until I had to struggle violently. She released me long enough for a few panted breaths before clamping me against her again. I heard her giggling above me. She lifted herself up, letting my head drop back. I was still panting for breath when she slid a hand behind my head and lifted it back to her cleavage. Her sweatshirt had gone. I was now pressed against her flimsy T-shirt. I could feel the outline of her bra as my face was smothered. My arms flapped uselessly deep in the folds of the sleeping bag as Heather deprived me of air again. She stopped, lifting her breasts from me. I felt her sweatshirt slip down.“Have you ever done any ballroom dancing?” Heather asked.“What?”“Ever done any ballroom dancing?”I collected my thoughts. What was she getting at?“Er… Yes. At school. A long time ago. Why?”“Because the gentleman is supposed to lead his partner. The same applies to sex. You aren’t doing much leading and you aren’t doing. I think she figured that out because she blushed a little when she caught me."I can't eat when someone is staring at me," she said with an embarrassed giggle."Sorry," I said, my face heating as I suddenly focused on my cereal."Just don't be so obvious about it, all right?"I smiled shyly, feeling like my mother had caught my hand in the cookie jar. I didn't want to scare Gina off; I wanted her to hang out with me."So where did you get such a great tan?" I asked her."It's because my mother is Indian," she explained. When she saw the surprise on my face, she continued. "British Indian."I was trying to figure out how to stare at her without her realizing I was doing it when—With a squeak of the long spring, the screen door opened and closed. Then I heard Manfred's voice. "So that's where you two are."So much for a little time alone with Gina, I thought sourly.Manfred went behind the counter and dug in his family's basket until he found something to eat. He joined us at the table and I.
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