I make him wait. There’s some as would be cross if’n I kept ‘em waitin the same. Some as would not wait at all, and they’d just give up and head off without me. But he’s different. He’s sweet on me, see, real sweet. And in his eyes I can do no wrong. Been that way for as far back as memory takes us, far back as school. His name’s Kit, and he’s been carryin a torch for me for more years than he hasn’t.
Sometimes, he’s a little too keen, you know. He don’t stop kissin me some days and touchin me just to make sure I is somethin real and not jest a thing of his imagination. And he’s always takin pictures of me, like he’s recordin every darned moment, like he’s hoardin up honey against a hard winter comin. Bees do that, makin sweet honey against the cruelty of nearin frost and snow.
I tells him sometimes, I tells him he’s just too much. Like he’s smotherin me. Like I jest can’t breathe. He don’t call for days then, like he’s a dog as has been hurt and it skulks in the dark till the broke bones is all mended. And at first I’s relieved and I can laugh out loud, and I can cuss against the sky and the sun or the moon, and I can be myself. But soon enough, I miss him. I look behind me, and there’s no shadow followin, and nobody there to make me feel special.
He’s got a ring. A ring with diamonds that spark and hold rainbows in they’s centres. And he asks me near enough every day now, asks me if I has given it any thought. He means about me marryin him, and I know I should tell him straight out no, but I don’t. Instead, I keep him waitin. See, he ain’t really all that I want. Oh he’s nice enough I suppose, and sweet and gentle. And he ain’t ever indecent in public, not ever touchin me under my clothes and kissin me like he’s tryin to get his tongue so deep he can puppy-dog lick out my insides. But sometimes a girl wants some of that and sometimes Kit, well, he’s just too much the gentleman.
I went out with Denver one Saturday. Kit was sulkin in his mom’s house and Denver just called up out of the blue. He’s been hot on me for a time, too. I knows it. I’ve seen him lookin at my legs and starin into the space between my tits. So, when he phoned, I thought, ‘Why not?’ We both had too much to drink that night, enough to make us brave or make us fools. I could hear all my loose thoughts rattlin in my head and I could hear Denver sayin as how he thought I was the prettiest fuckin girl in all the town. And that ‘fuckin’ made me wet. I don’t know, but it had somethin real in it. We did it in the dark of a shop door and he hurt me some and I swear it was the best ever. Twice we did it and we might’ve made it three ‘cept he was then too drunk to stand or walk, and I left him sleepin it off slumped in the doorway of Markham’s Drapers.
Now when Denver sees me, and Kit takes my hand and he says my name, sayin it over in case maybe I forget who I am, well then I sort of blush and Denver winks, and he lets me know he’s still carryin my panties tucked into the pocket of his jacket, and he makes a show of smellin his fingers, pretendin he still smells me there. And Kit don’t ever see what Denver’s doin and fuck if sometimes I don’t wish he would. And so I keeps him waitin.
Patricia Ann McNair 
I make him wait. There’s some as would be cross if’n I kept ‘em waitin the same. Some as would not wait at all, and they’d just give up and head off without me. But he’s different. He’s sweet on me, see, real sweet. And in his eyes I can do no wrong. Been that way for as far back as memory takes us, far back as school. His name’s Kit, and he’s been carryin a torch for me for more years than he hasn’t.
Sometimes, he’s a little too keen, you know. He don’t stop kissin me some days and touchin me just to make sure I is somethin real and not jest a thing of his imagination. And he’s always takin pictures of me, like he’s recordin every darned moment, like he’s hoardin up honey against a hard winter comin. Bees do that, makin sweet honey against the cruelty of nearin frost and snow.
I tells him sometimes, I tells him he’s just too much. Like he’s smotherin me. Like I jest can’t breathe. He don’t call for days then, like he’s a dog as has been hurt and it skulks in the dark till the broke bones is all mended. And at first I’s relieved and I can laugh out loud, and I can cuss against the sky and the sun or the moon, and I can be myself. But soon enough, I miss him. I look behind me, and there’s no shadow followin, and nobody there to make me feel special.
He’s got a ring. A ring with diamonds that spark and hold rainbows in they’s centres. And he asks me near enough every day now, asks me if I has given it any thought. He means about me marryin him, and I know I should tell him straight out no, but I don’t. Instead, I keep him waitin. See, he ain’t really all that I want. Oh he’s nice enough I suppose, and sweet and gentle. And he ain’t ever indecent in public, not ever touchin me under my clothes and kissin me like he’s tryin to get his tongue so deep he can puppy-dog lick out my insides. But sometimes a girl wants some of that and sometimes Kit, well, he’s just too much the gentleman.
I went out with Denver one Saturday. Kit was sulkin in his mom’s house and Denver just called up out of the blue. He’s been hot on me for a time, too. I knows it. I’ve seen him lookin at my legs and starin into the space between my tits. So, when he phoned, I thought, ‘Why not?’ We both had too much to drink that night, enough to make us brave or make us fools. I could hear all my loose thoughts rattlin in my head and I could hear Denver sayin as how he thought I was the prettiest fuckin girl in all the town. And that ‘fuckin’ made me wet. I don’t know, but it had somethin real in it. We did it in the dark of a shop door and he hurt me some and I swear it was the best ever. Twice we did it and we might’ve made it three ‘cept he was then too drunk to stand or walk, and I left him sleepin it off slumped in the doorway of Markham’s Drapers.
Now when Denver sees me, and Kit takes my hand and he says my name, sayin it over in case maybe I forget who I am, well then I sort of blush and Denver winks, and he lets me know he’s still carryin my panties tucked into the pocket of his jacket, and he makes a show of smellin his fingers, pretendin he still smells me there. And Kit don’t ever see what Denver’s doin and fuck if sometimes I don’t wish he would. And so I keeps him waitin.