It was time to enter the enchanted world of boyfriends enjoyed by former classmates, sophisticates, it had seemed to her, for years. She and her best friend were going down to the fair most evenings, skin still perfumed with ambre solaire after a day sunbathing in the garden and working themselves up into a romantic fervour over the boys they were admiring.
She thought she'd met someone wild, but he was only a kid who pushed the waltzers around at the fairground. He wasn't enigmatic, he just had nothing to say. But being young, looking a little louche, cigarette dangling in an insouciant way, he seemed interesting.
He was amused by her attempts to talk, recognising the type, insecure and moral, but wanting it. He played her a little, lazily waiting to see if she would put out. He wasn't that bothered, for at that time in his life, there were plenty of girls who did.
She was attracted by his dark blond looks, the deep tan showing on broad bare shoulders and the full lipped, laid back grin he gave her by way of reply to her chatter.
She wondered about him and his life. He thought, nice tits, not used to it maybe but hell why not if she wanted to, probably needed a drink to take the edge off her virginity though.
It wasn't as she'd imagined, of course, more an understood progression than a passionate moment. The smooching was great, although chewing gum being neatly pushed behind his teeth to free his tongue for French kissing was unexpected, if proficient.
She was used to foreplay, though she wasn't entirely certain about what came next. When it did, although he applied his skills, she felt strangely distanced, finding herself listening to music playing in the room below in his lodgings and wondering what it was supposed to feel like, nerves taking away her spontaneity.
After a while it was over. He looked down at her, leaning on his elbows, smiling slightly and she knew her ignorance found out. He didn't seem to mind, however, and in comradely fashion, offered her a fag to share, saying nothing of it, then took her home.
They didn't meet again then as she was too embarrassed to go back and soon the fair moved off for that year. She thought of him wistfully for a while and imagined receiving letters, or perhaps a postcard, which of course, she didn't.
It was some years later , when buying a hot dog from a stand, and a plump, cheerful seeming and balding young man asked her how she was, that she realised, having wondered how he knew her, who he had been, only the smile remaining of what she remembered about him.