Erica looked up from the Golden Girls rerun she’d been half-heartedly watching. She thought she’d heard a knock, the quick, quiet one-two-three that her best friend Karen and her boyfriend Loren both used at this hour. Still, she could never be sure. Sometimes, when she was lonely, she wanted to hear the knock so badly that she actually made the sound in her ears. She turned down the TV.

Tap-tap-tap.

This time, she was sure she’d heard it. She got up and crossed the room to her front door, careful not to make too much noise as she did so. She slouched a little to look through the peephole. There was an eye there, blankly staring back at her. The eye was green. Erica opened the door.

Karen came into the room in a rush of whispers, all of which were unintelligible. She set her purse down on the arm of the couch and kicked off her rubber flip-flops. Erica, understanding nothing and wary of the noise, grabbed her friend’s arm and led her into the kitchen. She opened the fridge, took two Pepsis out of the produce drawer (her family wasn’t too keen on vegetables), and poured them into glasses. Then she sat down on one of the barstools at the counter and motioned for Karen to do the same. Karen was quieter now, or at least pausing to catch her breath.

"Thanks for saying hi to me before going off on a tirade." Erica grinned. "Too bad I didn’t catch a word of what you said and you’re gonna have to start over. What’s up?"

"I have reached a new base," Karen announced breathlessly.

"Have you? And what base would this be?"

"Shortstop. Throwing."

"Kar, you know I always forget what your definitions of the ‘bases’ are. Why don’t you just tell me what happened?"

"I gave him a hand-job!"

"Who? Brandon?"

"No, my other boyfriend. Of course Brandon!"

"Really… and was it everything you’d always imagined it to be?"

"No, not really. Not at all, actually."

"Why not?" Erica and Loren had been doing everything-but for almost six months. She and Karen, though they were best friends, never really talked about this stuff because of the great difference in their experience levels. But now that they were having this conversation, it really wasn’t so bad.

"Well, I didn’t exactly succeed with it," Karen said, smiling into her Pepsi.

"Didn’t succeed? How could you not succeed? He has a penis, doesn’t he?"

"Yeah, but…"

"Then how could you fail? He’s a 16-year-old boy. It doesn’t take an expert to successfully jack off a 16-year-old boy!"

"I know, but…" She took a deep breath. "E, my hand got stuck in his belt!"

"What?!" Cross between a whisper and a shriek.

"Shh! Your parents!" Karen warned, laughing.

Erica just looked at her. Waited. Finally, Karen took the hint and began her story.

"Okay, so we were lying on his couch watching TV, right? And then naturally we start making out and one thing leads to another or whatever and he starts unbuttoning my pants, just like he does every time we’re kissing – like just kissing isn’t good enough or something. But he like never knows what he’s doing down there and it usually hurts more than it feels good, so I figure it’s about time that I do this anyway, so…"

"Uh, Kar? You ever told him that he’s hurting you? Or like moved his hand so that it does feel good?"

"No. So anyway…"

"Well that’s the only way he’s gonna get it. Guys are dumb; you have to train them!"

"Okay, whatever. So anyway, I go to undo his belt, right? And it’s one of those metal buckles with the pin that you slide over to lock it in place, you know like those belts we have with the monkeys on them? So – would you believe it? – the freakin’ pin is stuck! So I figure, I don’t have fat hands, I’ll just go in through the top…"

"Why didn’t you just unzip his fly?"

"Hmmm… never thought of that…"

"My God, Karen."

"So then his stupid belt is putting all this pressure on my wrist – so like, my hand is in there, but I can’t move it, so getting a decent grip on his dick is out of the question. And I’m all trying to be sensual and rubbing it with my one mobile finger, and in the meantime, he’s trying to get his belt undone and he can’t do it either, so at least I know that I’m not just retarded or something…" She paused.

"So what ended up happening?"

"Well, I guess it really wasn’t working because after about ten minutes of this, he finally just pulls my hand out, which was probably good because it was all sweaty and starting to go numb, and I think I’m gonna have bruises all on my wrist for a few days… Anyway, then it was pretty awkward for me to still be there after all that, so I just washed my hands and left and came over here. The end!" Karen shook her head in a conclusive flourish and gulped down the last of her Pepsi. "So I just figured I’d give you the update on my life. I should prolly get home now though. It’s late, yeah?"

Erica nodded and followed Karen out of the kitchen. She watched her friend pick up her purse and sandals – not bothering to put them on her feet – and then leave as hurriedly and unexpectedly as she’d come.

"Karen is a strange girl," Erica thought as she rinsed out the glasses and put them in the dishwasher. "Knowing her, she’ll be making Brandon undo his own belt for the rest of their lives together…"