5:24 AM

When her alarm went off, Pam was already awake in nervous anticipation. She lay quietly in her familiar bed for a few minutes, calming herself, before she slipped from the sheets and pulled on a white terrycloth bathrobe. The hardwood floor felt pleasantly cool against her bare feet so she passed over her bunny slippers. When it was time to open the door, she operated the knob with the lightest touch, careful to be as quiet as possible. In the hallway, she crept on her tiptoes like a ballerina, skipping over the squeaky floorboards to maintain her stealth. Her objective, Jeremy’s closed bedroom door, loomed at the end of the hallway. Pausing at the stairs, she cocked an ear towards Kate's room. Nothing.

Upon reaching Jeremy's room, Pam quietly opened the door, waltzed around the scattered comic books on the floor, petted the snoozing Whiskers in the armchair, muffled a curse when she stepped on an errant Lego piece, and then eased herself into his bed. Jeremy did not wake. She took a moment to savor the stillness. It smelled nice in his room: the musty haze of carbon dioxide and the light perspiration of a sleeping boy. His shades were drawn, but the early rising sun had already cast its first rays around the edges of the window. It was, meteorologically speaking, the first day of summer after all.

She placed her hand on his, gently brushing the soft skin between his knuckles. The young boy still did not stir, so Pam kissed his cheek. Jeremy sighed, rolled onto his back, and wiped his nose, but resumed snoring lightly after ten seconds. Pam kissed him again, on the lips this time, her mouth lingering over his. He took a long, deep breath.

… And then went back to sleep.

Rolling her eyes, Pam carefully pulled his sheets aside, then tugged down his pajama bottoms. Studying him, she decided he was somewhere between soft and hard. Sometimes he would wake up from her fiddling with his pajamas, but not this morning. With a glint of determination in her eye, she gathered her brown hair into a ponytail.

Modern science had not yet been able to determine how many licks were required to reach the center of a Tootsie Pop, but Pam had a very reliable figure of how many seconds of oral pleasure she could get away with before waking up Jeremy. Licking her lips in anticipation, she enclosed the sleeping boy in her warm mouth.

3 seconds: No change, except Pam's stomach audibly growled.

9 seconds: Full erection achieved. Deep throat factor: zero. (Subject still adorably fun-sized.)

12 seconds: Foreskin gently retracted with her trembling fingers.

15 seconds: Her stomach growled again, possibly in reaction to the tantalizing boy taste under his foreskin.

19 seconds: Jeremy squirming, but half-asleep.

22 seconds: Jeremy stretching his arm, nearly whacking her in the face

Pam counted to twenty-seven before she hastily kissed his penis goodbye and yanked his pajamas back into place. Straightening, she waited patiently with her hands in her lap. He took a deep breath, yawned, then finally squinted at her through one eye.

“Hi there, birthday boy,” she smiled. “Were you having a funny dream? You kept saying my name.”

Jeremy pulled the sheet up to his shoulders. “It's not my birthday yet,” he murmured.

“Sure, it is,” Pam said. “It's June 21.”

Having closed his eyes, Jeremy took so long to respond that she wondered if he had fallen back asleep. “I wasn't born until 11:11 at night,” he said, yawning loudly. “Ask my mom. She always complains about how she spent the whole day waiting for me to get out.”

Listening intently, Pam's ears tried to detect any footsteps from upstairs. Since the house was completely silent, she stretched out next to Jeremy on his bed. “So, in that case, anything you want to do while you're still eleven?” she asked, curling a lock of his hair around her finger.

“I'd like to sleep some more,” he informed her, covering his eyes with a forearm.

“Are you sure?” Pam persisted. She traced a squiggly line across his chest. “I have a very special birthday present for you.”

“I'll open it later,” he mumbled.

The bed sheet draped over his body betrayed the unmistakable lump she had left behind. Pam slipped a knowing hand under the sheet and into the waistband of his pajamas. Her fingertips danced across the lovely skin of his penis for a moment before gripping him firmly. If she held still enough, Pam could practically take his pulse based on the hot blood swirling in his erection. Jeremy took a deep breath, his skinny chest swelling with air. He held it for a second before sighing. A comfortable sigh, not an exasperated one.

Encouraged, Pam kissed his earlobe in the spot that always made him shiver. “You're not going to believe what I got you for your birthday,” she whispered. “You're going to want to play with it all da-” Her ears perked up at the thudding footsteps upstairs, followed by the sound of a toilet flushing. His mom was awake. She reluctantly extracted her hand from his underwear.

“Oops, gotta go.” She gave him a peck on the cheek. “I can tell you're tired. Get some rest!” Retracing her steps, Pam leapt to her feet, muffled a curse when she stepped on an errant Lego piece, petted the snoozing Whiskers in the armchair, waltzed around the scattered comic books on the floor, and quietly shut the bedroom door behind her.

8:03 AM

“But I'm starving!” Jeremy protested. He performed a dramatic face plant into the kitchen counter. Pam browsed a newspaper at the dinner table, sipping her black tea. She and Kate had been enjoying the quiet morning when Jeremy stumbled into the kitchen, clad only his pajama bottoms, and demanded breakfast.

“It's just ten more minutes, Jeremy!” Kate pleaded. “Can't you be patient?” His mom, wearing an apron and armed with a spatula, was pouring neat spoonfuls of pancake batter onto an electric skillet while bacon sizzled away on the stovetop. An enormous pan of scrambled eggs was keeping warm on the back burner. Kate had insisted on cooking a special breakfast for her son's birthday, going so far as to banish Pam from the kitchen.

“What if I just have this banana?” he asked, reaching for the fruit bowl. “That's healthy, right?”

“Just wait,” Kate ordered. “See that big bowl of mixed berries next to Pam? I spent twenty minutes hulling those strawberries. And you're going to eat it...” she briskly flipped some pancakes, “...when the rest of breakfast is ready. Go put on some clothes, will you? You're twelve for heaven's sake. That's way too old to be parading around like that.”

“I don't have the energy,” Jeremy complained. He slumped onto a kitchen stool. “You're starving me. On my birthday.”

“Go play some video games or something,” Kate told him. “That's right, you heard me. I'll call you when breakfast is ready.”

Instead of going to the living room, Jeremy shuffled out the door to the backyard, his baggy pajamas sagging pitifully with each step. Pam finished her tea and, when Kate's back was turned, she plucked an apple from the fruit bowl. Stepping outside, she enjoyed the spongy feeling of the dewy grass between her toes. It was a lovely morning, the sort with cool, damp air that reminded her of camping.

She found Jeremy sprawled across a picnic table next to Kate's rose garden. He moved aside to let her sit on the table, but then immediately lay back down, using her lap as a pillow. “Ah, that's better,” he noted.

The rose garden was so peaceful that Pam wondered why they didn't come out here more often. The lines of a poem sprung in her mind: “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may...” It was a nice thought, but wholly unfeasible because these roses hadn't yet blossomed, let alone dropped their petals. They were beautiful nonetheless, their tightly wrapped crimson buds studding the lush summer landscape like drops of blood.

Jeremy's stomach gurgled. “Are you going to be all right?” Pam asked.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” he sighed. “The smell of bacon was driving me crazy though.”

Pam watched sympathetically as he rubbed his flat tummy. As if she needed any further enticement, Jeremy stretched his arms over his head, allowing her to count the skinny ribs on his taut torso. Her fingers tapped each little indentation like she was playing a xylophone, though she took care to avoid his ticklish spot.

It was so fun that she almost forgot the apple in her hand. Pam handed it to him. “Don't tell your mom, okay?”

The young boy eagerly accepted her offering. His teeth made a satisfying crunch when he bit into the luscious red apple. “Thanks Pam! You're the best.”

“Tell me something I don't know,” she smiled. Pam played with his hair while Jeremy, still reclining on the table, devoured the apple. The faint scent of roses mingled in the breeze as the two of them lounged carefree in the garden.

9:20 AM

After breakfast, Pam went to her room to get dressed. The three of them were heading across town to William and Marla’s condo where Jeremy had invited his friends for a pool party. Knowing her main outfit for the day would be a swimsuit, Pam decided a plain white t-shirt and jean shorts would suffice in the meantime. As she brushed her hair, she idly imagined Jeremy and his friends staring in awe as she strolled up in her bikini. She was lost in this fantasy when she heard a slight commotion in the hallway. Kate and Jeremy were arguing about something.

“You are not wearing that to your dad's,” Kate told him.

“Why not? It's my birthday party. I should wear whatever I want.”

“Can't you at least put on something nice? You look like you're going to a casting call for a modern day remake of Lord of the Flies.”

Their voices grew louder and louder until they reached Pam's room. Her door was already open but Kate politely knocked anyway to announce their presence. “Pam, could you do me a favor and make him look presentable?” Holding Jeremy by the shoulders, she gently shoved him in Pam's direction. “You always have a good eye for what looks nice on him.”

“Pam always thinks I look nice,” Jeremy pointed out. Standing behind him, Kate rolled her eyes.

“I'll take care of it,” Pam promised.

“Thank you,” Kate said. “I'm going to finish getting ready. Shall we leave in fifteen minutes?”

“That sounds good,” Pam said. She followed Jeremy to his room.

“I look fine, don't I?” Jeremy asked. He was wearing a faded blue hoodie that sported paint stains and several holes. His gray shorts were, upon closer examination, a threadbare pair of cut-off sweats.

“Of course,” Pam said. She found his unkempt appearance charming but she supposed Kate didn't want any judgment from William or his girlfriend. “Your mom just wants you to look nice for a few hours. You don't have to wear these clothes all day. Did you remember to pack your swimsuit?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy stripped to his underwear, then joined Pam at the closet. “How about one of these?” He held up two t-shirts. One read 'The Party Has Arrived' while the other proclaimed 'I Do My Own Stunts'.

“I like those too,” Pam agreed. “But I think your mom wants something a little dressier. Try this instead.” She handed him a black polo shirt from the closet, then went to his dresser to search for pants.

“Not those jeans,” Jeremy protested when she set a pair on his bed. “I hate the buttonfly design.”

“These are the only clean jeans I could find.”

Resigned to his fate, Jeremy began hopping on one leg as he tugged on the jeans. He spent several minutes with the buttons on the fly before giving up. “I'll just leave them unbuttoned,” he proposed. “Nobody will notice, right?”

“Let me try.” Pam knelt down in front of him. “How hard could it possibly be?” Pretty hard, as it turned out. It was difficult to force the buttons through the stiff denim buttonholes. She wondered who invented the whole concept of buttonfly pants. Zippers were far more sensible.

“I got one!” Pam announced. “Three more to go...”

“Did you really get me something cool for my birthday?” Jeremy asked.

“I sure did. Actually two things. One you can open at your dad's. The other one you'll have to wait though.”

“Gosh, a second present. It is big?”

Pam shook her head. “Not exactly, no.”

“Expensive?”

Pam successfully buttoned another button. “Surprisingly, yes. It cost $75.”

“Will my friends be super impressed when I show it to them?”

“Um, I'm not sure. It's not exactly the sort of thing you can parade around.”

Jeremy rubbed his chin, thinking. “It is breakable?”

“Ha. You better not break it.” Pam managed one more button before giving up on the last one. Kate was coming down the stairs anyway. “No more hints,” she told him. “You'll have to be patient.”

10:01 AM

Upon reaching his father's condo, they had scarcely stepped out of the car before Apple came running out the front door. She was dressed in regular jeans and a t-shirt. It occurred to Pam that this was the first time she had ever seen Apple dressed in non-vintage clothing.

“Happy birthday, Jeremy!” Apple clapped a cone-shaped birthday hat on his head, then secured it under his chin with an elastic strap. “How does it feel to be twelve?”

“I don't technically turn twelve until tonight,” Jeremy told her.

“It's true,” Kate called out. She was hauling out a large plastic box filled with party supplies from the trunk. “It was the longest day of my life. Little did I know that it would turn out to be the longest twelve years of my life.”

“Don't make fun of me on my birthday,” Jeremy warned.

Kate kissed his cheek. “I'm joking, my precious progeny.”

“Let me take that box,” Apple offered. “It looks heavy.”

“It's lighter than it looks,” Kate said, shifting the box to her hip to hold out a hand. “You must be Apple. I've heard so much about you. Jeremy talks about you a lot, like how you went truffle hunting in the woods last week.” Truffle hunting? Pam hadn't been privy to this tale.

“Not as much as he talks about Pam, I bet,” Apple said, blushing. It was a suspicious blush that immediately caught Pam's eye. Was Apple trying to deflect Kate's comment?

“True, true,” Kate nodded. “Pam has sadly supplanted even me as the #1 woman in Jeremy's life.”

Apple laughed. “In that case, I better get in one last dance.” Taking Jeremy's hand, she began twirling him in the parking lot while humming the happy birthday song. He seemed both embarrassed and flattered as Apple guided him through some classic ballroom moves.

Traitor.

Oblivious to Pam's fuming, his mom smiled. “It's so sweet how those two get along so nicely,” Kate commented.

Big deal, Pam thought. Given the opportunity, Jeremy could get along great with venomous snakes, a prickly cactus, or (if he were sufficiently bored) a sack of pebbles. Pam retrieved some birthday presents from the trunk. “Hey Apple, can you take these inside?” she asked.

“Of course.” The moment she took the packages, however, Pam slipped an arm around Jeremy's waist, intertwined their fingers, and began sashaying him between the parked cars. Apple gave her a good-natured glare. “Wait a minute! Did you just cut in on my dance?”

“Yes,” Pam said, sticking out her tongue. Jeremy was too busy trying not to step on her feet, but Kate and Apple chuckled. It felt juvenile to stick out her tongue, but it was probably the most satisfaction she could get in this setting. Pam would have preferred giving Apple a more obscene gesture.

11:47 AM

The sun had risen high in the perfectly blue June sky. The warm day was just right for a pool party. Pam didn't care much for planned communities, but she was nonetheless envious of the amenities offered by William and Marla's condo development. For his son's birthday, William had reserved the shared area consisting of a covered veranda with picnic tables and grills. The seating overlooked a shimmering pool surrounded by shade umbrellas, loungers, and a well-manicured garden resplendent with scented wisteria shrubs and sunny daisies.

Not hungry after Kate's lavish breakfast, Pam ignored the potato salad and hot dogs, instead sticking with a sensible salad of mixed greens. Jeremy sat between his parents on one side of a picnic table while Pam and Apple dined on the opposite side. Marla had discreetly made other plans for Jeremy's party. It was a thoughtful gesture on her part, as Jeremy was visibly glowing to have both his parents' attention.

One end of the picnic table was piled with various wrapped boxes. “Can I open my presents now?” Jeremy asked through a mouthful of hot dog.

“Let's wait until we finish eating,” said Kate.

“Maybe in a little bit, buddy,” William agreed.

“I wasn't asking you guys. I was asking Pam.”

His parents exchanged a wary look, then glanced at Pam. Being accustomed to this argument from Jeremy, Kate was exasperated but William uncertain. Apple giggled. “I've seen this on TV!” she said, elbowing Pam. “You're the good cop. Or is it the bad cop?”

Pam tried to laugh along with Apple, but something was brushing her leg. Under the picnic table, Jeremy's toe insistently poked her ankle. When she gave him a cautionary look, he flashed his puppy dog eyes.

“Please, Pam?”

His foot, wriggling toes and all, wandered near the inside of her thigh. “Well, why not?” she reasoned to William and Kate. “His birthday only comes once a year.”

William sighed and shook his head. Pam was surprised to see him pull out a twenty dollar bill from his pocket and hand it to his ex-wife. “We had a bet on whether or not you would cave into one of Jeremy's demands,” Kate explained.

“I thought you were made of sterner stuff,'' William complained to Pam, a twinkle in his eye.

“I can usually get Pam to cave. Like maybe eight times of ten,” Jeremy announced. “So can I open presents now?”

Pam sputtered for a response. He still had his foot between her thighs and his heel made light contact against the denim crotch, causing her to feel overly warm down there. Unable to think of a comeback, she shoved a present at Jeremy. He set aside his hot dog to tear off the wrapping paper.

In no time at all, he blazed through three presents. From Apple: a titanium spork-knife combo. From his dad: a headlamp and a pair of walkie-talkies. From his mom: a travel-size first-aid kit. Though perplexed by this last gift, Jeremy did his best to be polite. “Uh, cool. Thanks mom.”

“Look inside it, silly.”

Jeremy unzipped the case. Nestled among the band-aids, gauze pads, and packaged antiseptic towelettes was a shiny iPod touch. “Oh, cool! Thanks mom!”

“That's the response I was looking for,” Kate noted. “You're welcome.”

“The iPod is cool, but what's with all this survival gear?” Jeremy wondered. “Are you sending me off into the woods for some TV show?”

Kate and William looked at each other with nervous excitement. “We have a surprise for you,” his dad said. “We found a summer camp that we thought you would enjoy. You're going on an adventure!”

“There will be all sorts of fun stuff,” Kate chimed in. “Horses. Archery. Um...” She tried to remember what else the camp offered. “Pottery.”

“Cool.” Jeremy nodded, still being polite. “That’s a lot of stuff to do. Is this an overnight camp?”

“Not just overnight,” his dad said. “It’s a six week program.”

“Oh.” Jeremy glanced at Pam. He was smiling with his lips, but not his eyes. Looking away, Pam quietly prodded her salad with a fork. His parents were surprised by this non-reaction from their son.

“We have a brochure at home,” Kate told him. “Wait until you see all the cool activities they have.”

“And we can do some shopping for supplies,” William said. “You'll need a backpacking tent. Waterproof matches. ”

“A Bowie knife and flare gun?” Jeremy said hopefully.

“Well, maybe a pocketknife and a whistle,” William decided.

“When does the camp start?” Jeremy asked.

“Sunday,” Kate answered.

“This Sunday? Four days from now?”

Kate and William exchanged a look. “Do you not want to go?” his dad asked.

“No... I guess I'm just surprised.” Jeremy picked up his hot dog, then put it down again. “I mean, that's not much time to get ready.”

“Don't worry about that,” Kate said. “We'll make sure you have everything you need. And we can always mail stuff if you need anything. And Pam can help you pack. Right, Pam?”

“Certainly,” Pam said, though she was far from certain of anything at the moment. Did Jeremy have a worried look? She almost detected a hint of fear in his eyes. Wanting to reassure him, she reached across the table to pat his hand. “You'll be fine. Really. It's going to be fun.”

He nodded, then reached for the last present on the table. “Is this from you?” he asked.

“Yup.”

Jeremy unwrapped the small box, taking greater care with it than he did with the others. It jingled when he shook it. He held the box upside down. A thin plate of metal, attached to a silver chain, tumbled into his palm. It was a jigsaw piece, stamped with his name and birth date.

“It's like those dog tags they wear in the army,” Pam explained.

“I always wanted one of these,” Jeremy said, slipping the chain around his neck.

“That's perfect,” William said. “Now we'll be able to identify your corpse if you get lost in the woods at camp.” Only Apple laughed at his joke. Kate and Pam were not amused.

“Why is it a jigsaw shape though?” Jeremy asked.

It was actually part of a matching set, a bit of information Pam decided to omit. The companion piece was waiting at home on her dresser: a second jigsaw shape that fit perfectly with Jeremy's. Instead of explaining, Pam said, “Because you're such a mystery.”

Everyone laughed. Kate leaned over to whisper something in Jeremy's ear. He gave her a balky look. “Mom! No.” But Kate kept nudging his arm until Jeremy bashfully stood up and went over to Pam's side of the table.

“Thank you, Pam,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Everyone laughed again, probably because they weren't sure who was blushing more: Pam or Jeremy.

1:10 PM

Everyone had a job. William cleaned up the leftover food and plates from lunch. Kate, ever health-conscious, was carefully dissecting a pineapple to assemble a fruit platter for party snacks. Apple arranged party favors and noisemakers in oversized containers. Jeremy had changed into his swim trunks and busied himself with the pool skimmer, fastidiously snagging every last stray leaf or dead insect that floated in the water.

Pam decided her job would be to keep an eye on Jeremy while he skimmed the pool. If he somehow fell into the water, it would be her job to rescue him. Plus, it was fun to watch as he struggled to balance the unwieldy pool skimmer. Particularly once he removed his shirt, allowing her to enjoy the sight of his skinny muscles flexing in the sunshine. His brand new swim trunks were a maroon color and decorated by a repeating pattern of whale emoji, the one with an upturned tail and jaunty blowhole spurt.

Kate frowned at him as she cubed blocks of cheddar and pepperjack for the cheese platter. “Pam, could you make sure he put on enough sunscreen?” she asked. “I told him to put some on when he changed into his trunks. Knowing him, he probably just squirted some onto his forehead. There should be some in that little backpack over there.”

Pam slung the backpack over her shoulder and descended the steps from the patio to the pool. Jeremy had moved to the far side where he was attempting to scoop up a stray wisteria blossom that was just out of reach. “Hey you,” she called. “Did you put on sunscreen yet?”

“Uh, yeah,” he answered.

“I'll take that as a no,” Pam said. “Let's put some on before you turn crispy.” She took refuge under an umbrella that protected two poolside recliners. Jeremy set aside the skimmer and joined her in the shade. Her hand dug in the backpack for a moment before her fingers closed on a familiar-shaped bottle. Coppertone.

“We haven't used this in a long time,” she remarked.

“Oh yeah.” He peered at the bottle, then smiled as though it were an old friend. “I forgot about this stuff.”

“I'll do your back first,” Pam said. “Hold out your arms.” She squirted a healthy dollop of Coppertone into her palm and began working it into his skin, making sure to apply extra on his shoulders where he almost always sunburned. When she accidentally got some on his trunks, Pam dipped a hand into the pool to wet her fingers and clean it off.

“Turn around, please.” Pam swiped her fingers across his forehead, cheeks and nose, leaving streaks that resembled warpaint. Jeremy scrunched his eyes shut as she rubbed it in. It didn't seem to matter how much sunscreen she slathered on him because his face was already covered in a fresh crop of summer freckles. Melanoma worries aside, she had to admit they were cute.

Pam did his arms next, then his chest. The Coppertone now filled the air with its pungently cloying scent. Despite the warm summertime breeze, Pam was suddenly transported back to last autumn when Jeremy would bring her the Coppertone and ask to play Call of Duty. Her lips curling into a smile, she recalled the countless times she would sneak out of his room late at night while the signature scent of Coppertone lingered in the air. It was only a few months ago, yet it seemed ages since she last waved him off, moving her open palm across his erection in that special way he liked.

Pam felt a twinge between her legs as her kitten unexpectedly went wide from the memories. Her breathing quickened when she knelt on one knee and bent low to apply sunscreen to his legs. Her face was inches from his crotch now. Surely it was her imagination, but the whale emoji adorning his trunks seemed to be winking at her.

Jeremy cleared his throat. “Gosh. This smell really reminds me of... you know.”

Pam straightened and began rubbing more Coppertone on his chest. He didn't need anymore, but she couldn't stop touching him. Her slippery fingers slid across his smooth chest, enjoying the contrast between hard bone and firm muscle.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling. “Me too. Remember that time we laid out in front of the fireplace in November and pretended we were suntanning?”

“Sure,” Jeremy nodded. “That was the day you asked me to put Coppertone on your back. And, um, on your front too.” Now rubbing sunscreen into his neck, Pam glanced at his midsection where a prominent bulge was, rather obscenely, calling attention to the whale emojis on his swim trunks. She could hardly blame him. The sweet scent of Coppertone was making her sweat like a horny sailor. Pam bit her lip when her kitten involuntarily clenched, squeezing out a single drop of wetness.

The moment was interrupted when Apple called out. “Jeremy! Your friends are here!” Startled, Pam's head snapped to the stairs where Apple was guiding a group of boys toward the pool.

“Oh no,” Jeremy whispered. “What are we gonna do?” The bulge in his shorts was bigger than ever. And it wasn't going away anytime soon.

Led by Apple, the squadron of boys was closing in fast. Pam positioned him so his back faced the crowd, but she knew that would be insufficient cover. Taking Jeremy by the shoulders, she quickly whispered in his ear, “Don't be mad at me I love you okay?” Then she impulsively kissed him before shoving him into the pool.

“What are you-- HEY!” Jeremy’s arms helplessly windmilled in the air before he plunged into the water with a gurgling splash. His friends hooted and hollered as Jeremy sputtered in the pool. Apple gave Pam a bemused look.

“He kept complaining he was too hot,” Pam explained. “So I decided he would like it if... uh oh.” Jeremy had climbed out of the pool and was now dripping water onto the gray concrete. He didn't look very happy with her, but the impromptu dip in the water had taken care of the bulge in his trunks. Not even bothering to find a towel, he began stalking toward her.

Pam backed away slowly. “Careful there,” she called. “You don't want to slip and fall on the...” Once he was ten feet away, Jeremy charged. Squawking in terror, Pam beat a hasty retreat. His friends watched with obvious amusement as he chased her around the pool.

“Jeremy, don't!” Pam pleaded as she dashed away. “It was the only way! I was just trying to help!”

They circled a row of loungers for several circuits before Jeremy found a garden hose near the row of wisteria trees. Even though he was a dozen feet away from her, the water pressure was sufficiently powerful to cover the distance. Pam dodged the water as best she could while frantically moving away from him. The sprays of water kept missing her by mere inches on either side. Not realizing what she was doing, Pam scrambled onto a short ladder that led to the diving board.

She glanced over her shoulder. He wasn't following her, which was a small victory. “Jeremy, can you please be nice?” she said hopefully. “I'm still wearing my regular clothes. Just wait for me to put on my swimsuit. Then you can get me wet. Okay?” To her relief, he set down the garden hose. The dripping boy climbed onto the diving board to join her. It wasn't until she noticed the sly grin on his face that Pam started to worry.

It suddenly dawned on her what he had done. “You weren't even aiming for me with the hose,” she said. “You were just trying to get me onto this diving board.”

“Yup.”

She glanced nervously at their audience. The boys seemed entertained, although Apple had a sympathetic look. “That was really smart,” Pam told him.

“Yup.” He was, ever so slowly, moving closer and closer. The diving board dipped under their combined weight. Pam retreated as far as she could until her heels were perched at the edge of the board.

“Any chance you could forgive me?”she asked, crossing her fingers.

Jeremy shrugged. “Don't worry, the water isn't too cold.” He charged, throwing his arms around her in a tackle that sent them both tumbling. Pam only had time for a quick shriek before they landed in the water. It was so cold that her spine immediately clenched in pain. She kicked her way to the surface where she gasped for breath. Treading water, Pam wiped aside her wet bangs so she could see properly, then made her way to the pool's edge.

Having beat her there, Jeremy had already climbed out of the pool. She ascended the ladder, the water dripping off her in unpleasant rivulets. Her wet clothes clung to her skin and her hair felt like a sodden mess draped across her back. Pam realized she had chosen a poor day to wear a semi-sheer bra. Combined with her saturated white t-shirt, there was absolutely nothing to hide the obvious brown shading of her nipples. A towel would have saved her, if only there had been one in arm's reach. As it was, countless pairs of eyes were watching her every move.

Pam didn't know what to do. Cover her breasts with her hands, possibly drawing even more scrutiny? Or just pretend she didn't realize what they were staring at? “Excuse me,” Pam said, pushing her way through the passel of preteen boys. It wasn't easy, but she kept her arms at her sides as she strode past them. For the past several weeks she had often fantasized about commanding their attention, but this wasn't exactly what she had in mind.

1:19 PM

“So much for looking nice at the pool party,” Pam muttered to her reflection in the mirror. It helped to change out of her sopping clothes. While she was at it, Pam slathered on generous amounts of sunscreen and put on her swimsuit. Then she salvaged her hair the best she could, putting it into a ponytail and styling her chestnut bangs. The original plan was to look like a glamorous movie star lounging by the pool, but now she just looked like some random woman who had been at the beach all day.

She studied her appearance in the mirror. Had she chosen a swimsuit that was too risqué? Her black bikini was styled with semi-transparent mesh at strategic points, highlighting her modest décolletage and the sides of her hips. Self-conscious, she found herself hesitating to return to the pool. Now that the moment of truth had finally arrived, Pam worried that someone (namely Jeremy's parents) would question why she chose such a revealing swimsuit for a boys' party.

“It's a perfectly reasonable swimsuit,” she told herself. “It's from Target, not Victoria's Secret. Totally acceptable.”

After numerous false starts, she steeled her nerves and returned to the pool. To her relief, it was completely empty. Taking advantage, Pam lay down on a chaise. She crossed and uncrossed her legs several times, trying to find a comfortable position. Was her tummy sticking out too much? Pam sucked in her breath until she felt dizzy. Then her exposed skin began prickling from the cool air so she moved to a sunnier spot. She was finally starting to feel at ease when a stream of boys came pouring down the stairs from the patio area. Pam tried to play it cool. “Maybe they won't notice me over here,” she thought.

That hope was dashed when Jeremy's voice cut through the din. “Hey Pam! Can you help figure out this electric pump? We need to inflate a bunch of floaty toys.”

It took her a second to locate him in the teeming mass. Unable to find an alternate route, Pam had no choice but to wade through the crowd of boys. The haze of preteen hormones hung in the air like a thick fog, rendering her lightheaded. Three boys whacked each other with pool noodles. Another group chased one another around a lounger. No one seemed to notice that she was wearing a bikini.

Not even Jeremy, who wordlessly handed her the instructions for the air pump. He remained glued to her side as she read the instructions, his upper arm distractingly brushing the side of her breast. Each time Pam tried to subtly step away, he would lean in closer. It was difficult enough to concentrate in this crowd of boys. Jeremy was not helping things with this casual touching.

“Hey, what's that smell?” someone asked.

“Elliot farted.”

“I did not!”

“No, really. It smells like... I can't figure it out.”

“Oh yeah. I smell it too. It's...”

Everyone began sniffing the air. Pam was on the verge of deciphering the electric pump instructions when one of the boys announced, “I know! It's smells like an orange creamsicle!”

“Oh. Heh.” Pam said, looking up. “That's my sunscreen.”

“Your sunscreen smells like orange creamsicle?”

Being the closest to her, Jeremy moved close to sniff her neck. “Yum!” he proclaimed. The next thing she knew, Pam was inundated as the boys followed Jeremy's example. Crowding her, they began sniffing the air like baby sharks circling their first kill.

“I don't smell anything,” someone said. “Are you sure it's her sunscreen?”

The crowd of boys pressed even closer. Her kitten immediately perked up inside her bikini. If she were reacting like this, she wondered what was happening inside the boys' swim trunks. Were they inflating, one by one, in an unexpected rush of blood?

A boy grabbed her wrist and brought it to his nose. “Wow. They really nailed it. There are scientists whose only job is to create artificial smells, you know.”

“This one time, Pam was wearing something that smelled like a fizzy strawberry soda,” Jeremy informed his friends. “It was nuts!”

The boys formed a line to take turns sniffing her wrist. The irony was too much. Pam had spent the last few weeks picking out a cute swimsuit, but it was the scent of her sunscreen that actually caught the boys' attention. Accepting the situation, Pam patiently waited it out though she couldn't keep from occasionally squeezing her knees together. The attention was short-lived, however, as someone suggested it was time to get in the pool. The boys began taking off their shirts while Pam stood dazed in the middle of it all.

“Stay calm, stay calm,” she told herself. Her heart fluttered at the sight of so many disrobing boys. Surrounded by gawky collarbones and skinny chests, she didn't know where to look. “Take deep breaths.”

The group of preteen boys rushed for the pool, leaving Pam behind in a hodgepodge of discarded shirts, towels, and flip-flops. She cleared off a lounger and collapsed into it. It must have been the mid-day sun beating down. Every inch of her was melting.

1:37 PM

After she had sufficiently recovered from the sniffing, Pam decided she deserved a snack. She went up the stairs to the patio, where she found the fruit and cheese platters thoughtfully offered by Jeremy's mom. Among the plates of food was also the empty pineapple shell that Kate had so expertly eviscerated. It still appeared quite solid so Pam experimentally filled it with some iced tea. No leaks. Elated, she added a straw and returned to the pool with her fruit plate.

Pam often swore that Jeremy had some sort of telepathic radar that pinged him whenever she had food. Sure enough, she had hardly sat down when he appeared out of nowhere, dripping wet. “Hey, neat!” Jeremy said. “You're drinking out of a pineapple. That's so tight!”

“Yes, very tight,” Pam replied. Spending time with his friends always caused him to temporarily pick up their mannerisms and speech patterns. She held the pineapple at arm's length so Jeremy could sip from the straw. “Please don't get any water on me. We're even now, right?”

“Of course.” Jeremy helped himself to her fruit plate.

“After eating, you’re supposed to wait an hour before you get back in the water,” she reminded him.

“But it's my birthday,” he said. “I can do whatever I want.”

“Right, right,” Pam said, unconvinced. She watched as he picked her plate clean of strawberries, leaving behind nothing but pineapple, grapes, cantaloupe, and a single cherry. She frowned at him. “You know, I was really looking forward to those strawberries.”

“Oops. Sorry.” He washed down his mouthful of strawberries with another sip from her pineapple. “I'd get you some more but, you know... My friends are waiting for me.” Picking up the cherry by the stem, Jeremy held it a few inches from her lips. “Here, have this instead. It's red, so it's sort of like a strawberry.”

Leaning forward, Pam sunk her teeth into the juicy red cherry while Jeremy pulled the stem free. He was about to return to the pool when she stopped him. “Wait,” she said, chewing. Holding his wrist, Pam spit the cherry pit into his palm and then closed his fingers around it.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” he questioned. Instead of answering, Pam kissed his closed fist and patted his butt to send him on his way. Shaking his head, he tossed the cherry pit into the grove of wisteria before running off to rejoin the party.

“The things I let him get away with on his birthday,” Pam sighed, surveying her fruit plate. She had barely taken two bites before another boy approached.

“Can I have a drink from your pineapple?” he asked. Despite a rather unfortunate haircut, he was sort of cute.

But not that cute. “There's plenty of drinks up there,” Pam said, pointing to the steps toward the patio.

“I don't want to go all the way up there,” he said. “I just want a sip.”

“Well, this is mine,” Pam reasoned. “It's got my germs all over it. You should get your own.”

“But you let Jeremy have some,” the boy persisted. “I saw you.”

“Yeah. But that was different.”

“Why?”

Pam groped for an answer, but couldn't think of anything. She was saved by the sound of a whistle. The boys in the pool immediately stopped, staring at someone coming down the steps. Pam turned to see what they were looking at.

Apple was gliding down the stairs, dressed in a classic red lifeguard's swimsuit. Though it was a one-piece, the bathing suit still showcased her curvy breasts and long legs. An unspoken communication took place among the boys as they stared at Apple, then glanced at each other. Pam couldn't help but feel a twinge of green jealousy.

Apple twirled a whistle around her finger and carried surfboard-shaped flotation device. “No running at the pool,” she announced. “It's against the rules.” Then she climbed onto the lifeguard's chair where she began scanning the pool like a hawk, blowing her whistle when someone brought food too close to the pool or when the boys got too rowdy. Pam rolled her eyes when Apple informed the poolful of boys that she was trained in CPR.

2:09 PM

Kate and William entertained the parents who had chosen to stay, serving them sangria and marcona almonds under a shady picnic table on the patio. This left Pam and Apple in charge of the pool party with its booming music and shouting boys. Apple did her best to limit the rough-housing but had given up once it became clear no one was listening.

Under the guise of injury prevention, Pam kept a careful eye on the pool though in reality she was quietly learning names. The boy with cute shoulders was Peter. The one who looked way too old was Dakota. Paul wore a pair of charmingly clingy swim trunks while Elliot had very long eyelashes.

The boys were probably around Jeremy's age, but Pam was amazed by the variety of body types. Two boys towered over the others. Another sported a muscular frame that seemed better suited to high schoolers. Jeremy was the shortest of them all. If she hadn't known better, she might have guessed he was the younger brother who had joined his older sibling's friends for the day.

Her gaze reliably hidden behind her sunglasses, Pam wished Jeremy could have a birthday party every week. Other women her age went to bars and dance clubs where it was socially acceptable to check out their interests. Pam, however, was relegated to furtive glimpses of boys roaming the neighborhood or shopping with their moms at Target. Attending this pool party made her feel like a kid in a candy store.

And, just like a candy store, there was preponderance of empty calories. None of the boys were as cute as Jeremy, but a few came close. The only way anyone could beat him was if she made a combination of features. Feeling like an artist or a madwoman, Pam created a monster in her head: Tom's wobbly knees, Jake's sharp collarbone, Emmet's dark eyes, Oscar's belly button. She mentally placed a question mark over the swim trunks of her assemblage. She liked surprises.

Physically, he stood apart from his peers. But was that all that separated him? Why did Jeremy cause her boy-dar to ping like a submarine in wartime while she received nothing but radio silence from his friends?

From time to time, she would catch one of the boys checking her out. Without fail, they would shyly look away each time. Even Jeremy followed this protocol, except his glance was always accompanied by a second one, this one wrought with a knowing insistence in his eyes. He was the type of boy who, having been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, would nonetheless be raiding it again a few minutes later. Not only was he unconcerned about being caught, but he liked getting caught.

He was the only one sprinkled with this fairy dust. Despite the buffet of wonders spread before her, Pam decided she would rather spend a short afternoon with Jeremy than an entire weekend with any of his friends. He was magical. The rest were ordinary.

2:45 PM

“Marco.”

“Polo.”

“Marco.”

“Polo.”

Pam had been sitting at the edge of the pool, soaking her feet, when Jeremy's friends invited her to play Marco Polo with them. It sounded harmless enough so Pam accepted.

“Marco,” Pam called out, her eyes closed.

“Polo,” the boys responded. Echo-location was difficult because of the confounding reverb from all the hard surfaces surrounding the pool area. Slowly moving through the water, Pam headed in the direction of the loudest voices. She had been caught three times already. Her female voice was easy to spot among the chorus of boys, even though they weren't very deep. A few sounded like they had sandpaper in their throats, but most of the boys' voices had not yet broken.

“Marco,” she said, skimming her arms on the water in a wide sweep.

“Polo,” the chorus answered. Pam cocked an ear. Did she hear Jeremy's voice in there? As she moved in that direction, she heard the sounds of splashing as they tried to get away. A series of waves pressed against her from all sides as unseen boys swam or waded past her. Her fingers touched the tiled edge of the pool.

“Marco.”

“Polo.”

There were perhaps only three or four voices in front of her now. She was positive Jeremy was still one of them. Keeping her hand pressed against the tile, Pam began closing in on her prey. Thanks to her spread arms and the pool's edge, there was nowhere to hide. There was a flurry of motion as she felt some bodies slithering away.

“Marco.”

“Polo.” There was only a single voice now, dead ahead of her. Reaching out, Pam made contact with a pair of shoulders. Even with her eyes closed, she could could easily recognize a familiar collarbone. At the base of his throat she found a telltale indentation.

“A-ha!” she proclaimed. “I got you!” Pretending to flail in the water, Pam held Jeremy by the shoulder while her other hand moved underwater to give his rear a playful squeeze. But something didn't feel quite right... Pam opened her eyes. Instead of seeing Jeremy's familiar face, she was startled to find his friend Emmet squirming in her grasp.

Pam snatched her hand away. “Sorry. I thought you were J... Um, never mind.” Emmet stared at her with saucer-sized eyes. “You're it now!” she told him. Then she casually swam to the other side of the pool.

2:54 PM

Pam abandoned the pool when the boys engaged in a battle royale over the pool toys, all of which were shaped like food. Jake flipped over a pizza slice, ejecting Conor and claiming it for his own. Elliot, Tom, and Paul were fighting over a pink doughnut whose vinyl material kept squeaking in their wet hands. Emmet ousted Jeremy from the watermelon so Jeremy commandeered the cherry from Oscar by beating him into submission with a pool noodle.

Then they stopped fighting long enough to decide that it was more fun to belly flop from the diving board and land on a pool toy. The trouble started when Tom dove for the pizza slice while Jeremy was still on it.

“Hey!” Jeremy yelled. “Safeword! That's not cool, Tom. You're going to break someone's arm.”

“Safeword?” Tom repeated. “What does that mean?”

Ten minutes later, his friends were calling out 'safeword' at every opportunity. Someone had to go to the bathroom? Safeword. Emmet couldn't find his glasses? Safeword. The Gatorade was running low? Safeword.

Apple, dutifully patrolling the perimeter of the pool, approached Pam with a frown. “Do you suppose they even know what that means?” she asked.

“I doubt it,” Pam said. In the distance she could see Kate and William, along with the other parents, listening from the covered veranda with puzzled expressions.

“I'm pretty sure I heard Jeremy say it first,” said Apple. “I wonder where he learned it from?”

“He probably heard it on TV.”

3:26 PM

“Who do you guys think is cuter?” a voice asked. “Pam or Apple?”

Reclining alone at the opposite end of the pool, Pam leaned closer to the walkie-talkie she was using to eavesdrop on Jeremy and his friends. They were gathered in a gazebo that was at least fifty yards away, but she could hear their conversation as clear as day.

Apple had ordered everyone out of the water for a safety break, then disappeared into the bathroom. She was gone so long that Pam started to wonder if she had locked herself in a stall to weep about the rambunctious party. So far, the damage tally was two broken chaise loungers, three tipped-over umbrellas, and one mangled rhododendron. It honestly could have been worse. Personally, Pam's goal was to get through the party without opening a box of band-aids or calling for a Jaws of Life.

She was on her way to check on Apple when she passed the boys congregating in the gazebo. Their conversation became noticeably muted as she approached. They were clearly up to no good. Wondering what they were talking about, Pam tried loitering near the food table but the boys were obviously waiting for her to leave. Her eyes fell on the pair of walkie-talkies that lay among Jeremy's birthday presents. Removing a pony tail holder from her wrist, she snapped it around a walkie-talkie so the “transmit” button was pressed. Pam left it on the food table and casually slinked away with the other walkie-talkie. Once she safely returned to her chaise across the pool, she slyly held the radio to her ear.

The audio fidelity was surprisingly good. Without the walkie-talkie, Pam wouldn't have been able to hear a thing. With it, however, it sounded as if she were in the middle of the huddling boys. When she first started listening, the conversation centered around who was best at soccer. Then the discussion changed to who had the highest score for a video game called Destiny 2. Eventually, they graduated to arguing over who dominated the recent Marco Polo game in the pool. There was so much testosterone-laden one-upmanship that Pam wouldn't have been surprised if the boys pulled out a ruler, dropped their swim trunks, and started measuring.

Then things started getting juicy. “Who do you guys think is cuter, Pam or Apple?” someone asked. Pam wasn't familiar enough with his friends to recognize voices yet. They all chimed in at once which made it difficult to follow the conversation, if you could call it that. Pam listened carefully for Jeremy's voice but he remained maddeningly mute.

“Apple has bigger boobs.”

“Yeah, but Pam has a better butt.”

“I think Pam is nicer. And she smells good too.”

“Yeah. Her orange creamsicle sunscreen was tight.”

“Did anyone hear me when I said Apple has bigger boobs?”

“But remember when Pam's t-shirt was wet?”

“Her nipples were tight AF!”

“We can't really decide who is cuter until we see Apple's nipples.”

“I was floating on the watermelon toy when Apple said I looked like a cowboy.”

“She probably wanted to reverse cowgirl with you.”

The boys broke out in chuckles, until someone tentatively asked, “What's reverse cowgirl?”

A familiar voice piped up. “Everyone knows what reverse cowgirl is. Don't be stupid.” Pam's eyebrows raised in surprise and intrigue. Jeremy knew what reverse cowgirl was?

“Oh yeah? What is it?”

“I'm not telling,” Jeremy's distant voice crackled over the walkie-talkie, but she could practically see the smugness in his voice. There was a thwup sound. Glancing across the pool, Pam saw the boys winding up like baseball pitchers. They appeared to be throwing grapes at each other.

“Don't throw food,” Jeremy told his friends. “We're going to get in trouble.”

“I bet Jeremy doesn't even know what reverse cowgirl is.”

“He does so! He probably does it with Pam all the time.”

“Shut up!” Jeremy said. Pam didn't even need the walkie-talkie for that part because he shouted so loudly. His voice rang across the pool in a dizzying series of echoes. A series of additional thwups sounded via the walkie-talkie.

“Stop throwing food, Jeremy,” his friend mocked, “you're going to get in trouble!”

Squinting across the pool, Pam recognized Conor giving Jeremy a shove. Jeremy, of course, shoved back. A scrum broke out. Concealing the walkie-talkie in a towel, she called out, “Play nice over there, boys!” A dozen heads turned her way, startled at first, then contrite from her admonition. Smiling earnestly, Jeremy gave her a friendly wave. Pam rolled her eyes.

There was a brief moment of silence on the walkie-talkie. “Dakota, weren't you and Ashley going out last winter? Did you guys do reverse cowgirl?”

“Geez, Conor, what is your problem?”

“Guess not. Kissing?”

There was a pause. “Maybe a little.”

“Second base? Did you get to second base?”

“Uh, I tried but she wouldn't let me. I sorta cupped one through her shirt for, like, half a second though.” There was oohs and aahs of approval as though the boys were watching a fireworks display. Pam saw them slapping Dakota on the back.

Someone else cleared his throat. “My sister had a friend over one night and she was using my room to change. I didn't know so I walked right in. I totally saw her boobs.”

Another round of cheers. “Who was this?”

“Allison Miller.” Whoever she was, Allison must have been fairly attractive because there was a palpable wave of excitement.

“So, Jeremy, have you ever seen Pam naked?”

“Shut up, Conor,” Jeremy said.

“What, not even a little? Doesn't she live with you? You must get to see something. Like if she had a towel wrapped around her and it accidentally falls off?”

Jeremy hesitated, causing his friends to immediately pounce, demanding details. “Um, I guess... well. This one time? I, uh, saw Pam in her bra. I knocked on her door and, when she answered, her shirt wasn't buttoned. Like she forgot to do it. And her bra was almost see-through.”

Upon hearing this tidbit, the boys cheered. “Was she nipping out? I heard girls can squirt milk if they're nipping out.”

“Um, I don't think that's true,” Jeremy said.

“It is so! My brother told me.”

“Sure, whatever.” Jeremy glanced at his clearly enraptured friends. Even from across the pool, Pam could tell he was thrilled to be holding court. Emboldened, he continued, “And this other time, I got a peek between Pam's legs. She was... sitting on the couch. In her bathrobe. With her legs uncrossed.”

“Was she wearing underwear?”

Another pause. “Um, no,” Jeremy answered.

“What did it look like?”

“Well, you know...” Jeremy nervously cleared his throat. “There was hair. Like on top. And her kitten was kind of pink inside.”

“Her what?”

“Uh, I mean her pussy,” Jeremy amended. “It was sorta pink. I mean, I couldn't really see inside but I, uh, saw something pink.”

The boys were so distracted by this revelation that they promptly forgot Jeremy's odd choice of euphemism. “Was her pussy dripping?” someone asked. “I heard girls are constantly drippy down there. Like a leaky faucet.”

“They do not, dummy,” someone else replied. “They only leak blood during that time of the month. And it's not even dripping, it just comes out all at once.”

Pam shook her head in disbelief. Was the year 2017 or 1957? American sex education was clearly in dire straits. She wished she could help. It could be her job to travel from town to town, arming young boys with knowledge and technique. Countless heterosexual women would write to her, thanking her for their skilled husbands and impeccable sexual lives, even promising to one day send their own sons to...

“Well, Jeremy? Was it dripping or not?”

“How would I know?” he said. “It's not like I stuck my finger in it.”

“You should have asked. Maybe Pam would have let you.”

“She would not,” Jeremy denied.

“Just ask,” someone urged.

“Or maybe she would let you feel her boobs. Then you could get to second base... before you even get to first!”

“That would be so cool! Do you think anyone has ever done that?” An uncharacteristic silence descended upon the twelve boys as they pondered the question. Pam realized with a blush that Jeremy had done exactly that. He was feeling up her breasts well before she ever kissed him.

“Has anything else exciting ever happened with Pam?” someone inquired.

“Well...” Jeremy said. “No. Not really.”

From the tone of his voice, Pam could tell he was dying to brag to his friends. She tried to think of a way to help him. Hiding the walkie-talkie under her chaise, she called out, “Jeremy? Can you come over here? I need a quick favor.”

All eyes were on him as he shuffled over to Pam's side of the pool. “What's up?” he asked.

Pam handed him a container of sunscreen. “Can you put some on my back? I think I need more.”

“Sure.” He squirted some into his palm.

Pam turned so her back faced him, then pulled her brown hair out of the way. “Just make sure not to get any on my swimsuit, okay?”

“Wait, how am I supposed to put sunscreen on your back but not get any on your suit?” he asked.

“Unclasp my top, silly.”

“Like, right here?”

“Why not? It's not a big deal.” Pam lay face down on her lounger while Jeremy stooped to examine the back of her bikini. Since his palm was full of sunscreen, the young boy was forced to unhook the clasp one-handed. Having perfected this technique with frequent practice on her bra, Jeremy was able to unclasp the bikini top as easily as unzipping his fly. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his friends pretending to act casual as they observed the proceedings from fifty feet away. She hoped none of them noticed his expertise.

“Mmm, the sunscreen is warm from being in the sun,” Pam said as Jeremy worked it into her skin. It felt especially nice when his fingers massaged inside her shoulder blades.

“Is that good enough?” Jeremy asked.

“Don't forget to put some on my lower back,” she reminded. He did so, taking care to steer clear of her bikini and, by extension, the soft curve of her bum. “Be sure to get right up to the swimsuit bottom, please. I don't want a strip of sunburn.” Working carefully, Jeremy diligently finger-painted a layer of sunscreen across her body. Pam coyly arched her back, pushing her bum upward. The motion awakened a delightful sensation between her legs so she pulsed several times, causing her clit to throb.

“I think I got everything,” Jeremy said. “Should I re-hook your top?”

Pam let him fasten her bikini, but then immediately rolled onto her back. Extending a leg straight into the air, she wiggled her bare toes at him. “Can you put some sunscreen on my ankles and feet too?” When he made a questioning face, Pam said, “Or maybe I can ask one of your friends if you don't feel like it.”

“I'll do it,” Jeremy said gruffly. He squirted a thick dollop of sunscreen on her ankle and began working it into her skin. Pam held back a giggle when he tickled her sole with his slippery fingers.

“Be sure to get the spaces in between my toes too,” she advised. She was already worked up, but his nimble fingers only made her feel warmer inside as they wiggled into each little crevice. She held up her other foot when he was done with the first. Laying on the chaise lounge, Pam was very aware of his eyes flickering between her legs, not to mention the captive boys across the way. It excited her to have an audience.

“Thanks, cabana boy.” Pam said. “That was tight.”

“You're welcome,” he said, wiping his hands on his chest.

Sitting up, Pam adjusted her bikini and fished a five dollar bill from her purse. “Go treat your friends to something nice,” she said.

Jeremy stared at the money, perplexed. “Uh, okay. Thanks.” Accepting the cash, he shuffled off to rejoin his friends. The moment he was safely out of earshot, Pam retrieved the walkie-talkie and turned up the volume.

“Dude! That was insane!”

“Does Pam ask you to do stuff like that all the time? You were practically touching her butt.”

“She paid you? No way. I would have paid her to let me do something like that.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a whistle. No one had noticed Apple's return to the pool area. “Safety break is over!” she called. Abandoning the chaise loungers in a cacophony of scraping chair legs and pounding feet, the boys gleefully returned to the pool.

Apple strolled over to where Pam still lay on her chaise. “No more pool for you?” she inquired.

“I'm good,” Pam replied. “I don't feel like getting wet again.”

3:53 PM

“Everybody out of the water!” Apple called. “We're heading inside. Video game tournament. Doesn't that sound fun?”

This was Apple's fourth attempt to clear out the pool. A few clouds strayed across the sky, occasionally blotting out the sun but it was still a beautiful June afternoon. Most of the boys were loudly congregating near the patio but a few stragglers remained in the water, paying little attention to Apple. She sighed and blew her whistle. No effect.

“Hey punks,” Pam said. “Conor, Peter, and Tom: I'm talking to you. Out of the water. Now.” The boys immediately picked up the edge in her voice. Glancing at each other, they began climbing out of the pool.

“I wish I had that kind of authority,” Apple said. “How do you know their names? I can't even tell them apart.”

Pam smiled modestly. “I've always had a knack for names and faces,” she said.

With a pained expression, Apple surveyed the boys as they chased each other by leapfrogging from one chaise lounge to another. “This is more exhausting that I realized.”

“Why don't you take a break?” Pam suggested. “I can handle the rest of the party.”

“Are you sure?” Apple said. “I don't want to toss you to the wolves.”

“I'll be fine. Sometimes, I get energized from the chaos.” As she said this, Jeremy raced past with a pack of boys hot on his trail. “Speaking of wolves...” Pam began.

“Pam, help!” Jeremy said, hiding behind her. “We're playing reverse tag and I'm the last one!” His hands gripped her hips as he peeked out at the advancing marauders. With a yell, Jeremy took off running again when they got close. Pam, meanwhile, was treated to a four second assault of flailing limbs, bare shoulders, and wet swim trunks as the boys simply slithered around her in pursuit of their quarry.

Having primly moved out of the way, Apple received zero jostling yet she still glared at the passing boys. “You don't have a headache?” she asked.

“I feel great,” Pam assured her.

Apple wearily blew her whistle several times and began herding the boys from the pool area. With Pam's assistance, a messy cavalcade formed, replete with tousled hair and colorful towels. Apple led the way up the stairs while Pam brought up the rear, scanning the now-empty pool area for any forgotten items. Jeremy, she noticed, was just ahead of her in the procession.

Maybe it was because of the Coppertone incident before the party started. Maybe it was the boys sniffing her orange creamsicle-scented sunscreen. Or maybe it was Jeremy's delightful foot massage. Truthfully, there were countless reasons, but Pam was hornier than a teenager stuck in the backseat during a boring cross-country road trip with her parents.

“Hey Jeremy,” she said. Stopping, he turned to face her as his friends continued up the steps. Pam yanked aside her halter top to flash her breasts at him.

Jeremy's eyes bugged out. He was so shocked that his expression bordered on outrage. “Pam! Someone's gonna...” He quickly glanced around, but his friends still had their backs turned, oblivious. Nevertheless Jeremy stood frozen on the spot, astonished at her audacity.

Slipping her bikini top into place, Pam kissed the speechless boy on the cheek as she passed. “Hope you're having a nice birthday,” she said with a mischievous smile. He smelled like Coppertone and chlorine, an oddly alluring combination.

4:25 PM

On the television screen, Pam's character sprinted across the tarmac before taking cover behind a police car. The game was Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2, commonly accepted as the best version. The other boys had scoffed when Jeremy suggested that Pam join the video game tournament. But after she advanced to the quarterfinals, no one laughed anymore. Now it was the finals and Pam was squaring off against Conor and Jake in a three-way battle.

As she sat on the couch in the rec room, Pam tried to ignore the fact that she was surrounded by boys. She was accustomed to Jeremy sitting at her side, but this was new territory to have three squirming boys perched behind her on the couch as well as a gaggle of preteens sprawled on the floor at her feet. Pam always thought Jeremy looked cute in tall socks pulled up to his knees. Now she was sitting in a roomful of boys dressed in the same manner.

None of them, however, were aware of her distraction. Glued to the TV, the boys watched the unfurling action in the same breathless manner that people watched the Academy Awards. Pam tossed a grenade into the fuselage of an abandoned airplane to flush out Jake from his hiding spot. He dashed across the runway. Armed with a SPAS-12 Shotgun, she followed Jake's character into the terminal.

“Careful, Jake,” Jeremy said. “Pam has her favorite weapon.”

“Hey,” Pam said, not taking her eyes from the screen. “Whose side are you on, anyway?” Jeremy hadn't even made it to quarterfinals, which was a relief because she didn't want to beat him on his birthday.

“Yeah, that's how she got me,” Elliot said. “Pam is like a surgeon with that thing.” Pam liked Elliot, and not just because his arm kept brushing against her leg while he sat on the floor. During pool time, she had accidentally made eye contact with him as he spit into the shrubbery. The incident sent an inexplicable rush down her spine.

“Why didn't you warn us that Pam is this good?” Tom complained to Jeremy.

“Well, duh,” Jeremy said. “Of course she’s good. I taught her everything about Call of Duty.”

Pam shot him a wry look. “What are you talking about? I taught you everything about Call of Duty.” Though her attention was focused on the game, a quick sideways glance confirmed Jeremy's embarrassed smile. She gave him a playful shoulder bump. “I have an itch on my back,” she told him.

Jeremy obligingly began scratching her back. Neither of them took their eyes off the screen. “A little higher,” Pam directed. “And to the right. Too far, go back... Ooh, that's the spot.”

“I can help,” someone volunteered. Pam felt a second hand scratching her back. Surprised, she turned to see Tom.

“Quit it,” Jeremy said, slapping Tom's hand away. “You're distracting Pam.” Jeremy glared at his friend, then shifted position on the couch so his bare legs were sprawled across Pam's lap.

This was all well and good, but Pam's lull in concentration caused her to walk directly into the line of fire of a sentry gun that Jake had armed. Glancing at Conor's screen, she watched him follow her and Jake into the terminal. It was useless to fight the sentry gun, so Pam searched for an alternate route to Jake's location. She ran up an escalator before she finally found him hiding behind an electric cart. Aiming quickly, Pam dispatched him with two clean shots.

“Aw shit!” Jake groaned. He tossed aside his controller to assorted cheers and jeers from the rapt audience. Remembering his manners, Jake modified his exclamation to “Uh, I mean, shoot!” and then hastily looked at Pam for approval.

She ignored him. Conor was closing in on her with his Scar-H Assault Rifle. It wasn't a bad plan, letting her take out Jake while he stayed out of harm's way. Pam turned a corner and unexpectedly found herself face-to-face with Conor. She quickly fired off three shots but missed as he rolled out of harm's way.

“You've got her Conor!” Emmet said excitedly. “She's out of ammo!” Everyone, including Pam, leaned forward in their seats.

Before Conor could train his sights on her, Pam tossed a flash-bang at his feet. Blinded, he couldn't aim, much less shoot, which made it easy for her to throw her knife. Instant kill. The crowd of boys leapt to their feet as though Pam had jumped through a flaming hoop on a motorcycle.

The boys started chanting her name. “Pam! Pam! Pam!” She raised her arms in victory as they cheered and clapped her on the back. Popcorn, flung by the fistful, flew threw the air like confetti. Someone handed her a prize ribbon that read PUBLIC ENEMY #1. In the midst of the hoopla, Pam overheard Jeremy telling anyone that would listen, “I taught her that move.”

4:34 PM

Once the Call of Duty tournament was over, Pam herded the boys to wait outside the condo. Several parents had already arrived to pick up their children and even Kate had already left for her night shift at the hospital. The remaining boys passed the time by laying on the grass and smearing yellow streaks across their arms with dandelions. Though tired, Pam was disappointed that the party was ending. It was fun to be one of the guys for a day.

The crowd of boys dwindled until it was just her and Jeremy waving goodbye to the last car. “That was a good party,” Jeremy said as they walked the path to the condo.

“It really was,” Pam agreed. When they arrived inside, they found William and Marla drinking wine and watching television on mute with the closed captions enabled. Apple, meanwhile, was lying on a nearby couch with a wet washcloth across her eyes and a towel still wrapped over her swimsuit.

Jeremy waved a hand in front of her face. “Did we kill Apple?” he asked. “Oops.”

“I have the worst headache of my life,” she said.

“Don't worry, my friends went home,” Jeremy told her.

“Thank goodness,” Apple said, adjusting the washcloth. “I just want to spend the rest of the evening in a dark and peaceful place. A place where people talk instead of shout. Walk instead of run. Somewhere without destructive boys giving in to every base instinct that crosses their minds. ”

“Sounds like a pretty boring place to me,” Pam commented.

“Yeah, I'd go crazy for sure,” Jeremy said.

Marla took a sip of wine. “And all those years you begged me for a little brother,” she remarked to Apple.

“It would have been cute for a while,” Apple said. “Maybe we could have given him away when he turned nine.”

William poured himself more wine. “I wish I had thought of that.”

“Geez dad! I’m standing right here.” Jeremy punched his dad's arm, nearly causing him to spill the wine. William hastily set down the wine bottle with a loud clatter.

Apple peeked out from under her washcloth. “Peace! Peace!”

“We can plan a low-key evening if you need some quiet,” William said. “Right, Jeremy? Maybe pizza and a movie?”

Instead of answering his dad, Jeremy turned to Pam. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I might go soon,” Pam decided.

“I'm going home with Pam,” Jeremy announced.

His dad seemed surprised. “But it's your birthday. I thought we could wait until the exact time you're born and, I don't know, shoot Silly String at each other at 11:11. Like it's New Year's Eve.”

Jeremy began gathering his things. “That sounds tight, dad, but... well, you know.”

Every inarticulate answer deserves a baffled response. Jeremy was oblivious, but Pam noticed how hurt William looked. She felt a guilty twinge for being the reason his dad couldn't spend time with his own son. “Are you sure you want to come home with me, Jeremy?” she said. “I'm just planning on washing my hair. And eating leftovers.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Jeremy hopped on one foot as he tried to pull on his shoes. Despite the chair conveniently placed next to the door, he plunked down on the floor to tie his shoelaces.

“I could stay for a bit longer. Then we could have dinner here,” Pam suggested. She glanced at William. “And a movie too.”

Jeremy considered this offer, then began taking off his shoes. “Okay. But I'm still going home when you're going home.”

William shook his head. “I see I've been co-opted,” he said. “Pam obviously has a special way with boys.”

“You can say that again,” Apple agreed. “You should have seen her out there today. She was like a queen bee ordering those boys around.”

“We learned about bees in science last semester,” Jeremy said. “Did you guys know queen bees can't stand each other? They're super territorial. If a queen bee sees another queen, they'll fight to the death.”

“What if there are two queens that happen to be born?” his dad objected. “They'll kill each other right then and there?”

“They're not born as queens,” Jeremy explained. “Queen bees are actually just regular bees at first. She only become a queen because the drones choose a bee and give her royal jelly.”

“Royal jelly?” repeated Apple. “Where do drones get royal jelly from?”

“They make it themselves,” Jeremy told her. “The drones secrete royal jelly from their glands and then feed it to the queen. She loves it.” Everyone listened, enrapt, as Jeremy recounted the life of bees in earnest detail. William was fascinated, Marla grossed out, and Apple skeptical.

Pam herself was flustered. “Okay, this metaphor is getting a little weird,” she protested.

Taking her hand, Jeremy pulled her in the direction of the kitchen. “It's not weird, it's science. Let's find a snack,” he said. “Bzzzz, bzzzz, bzzzz.”

7:04 PM

After a pizza dinner, it was time for the movie. Since it was his birthday, Jeremy got to choose but nobody was familiar with his choice: Cabin in the Woods. Nonetheless, the living room shades were drawn and everyone settled in to get comfy. Zep had been summoned so he and Apple snuggled on the loveseat. William and Marla sat together on the couch, leaving a space on the end for Pam but Jeremy insisted that she join him on the floor.

“I got it ready for us,” Jeremy said, pointing to a stack of pillows on the floor. So Pam joined him, sitting on an oversized pillow while she leaned against the sofa. Jeremy did the same but they were barely ten minutes into the movie when he arranged her arm around his shoulder and then slouched into her side. Uncomfortable from his close proximity, Pam discreetly studied William out of the corner of her eye. Did he notice his son getting too cuddly? It didn't seem so, but she became even more self-conscious when Jeremy scratched his ear, accidentally touching her breast in the process. Or when he reached into the bag of almonds on her lap and his roving fingers dug too close to her crotch.

They were about an hour into the movie when a woman removed her shirt, then straddled a man as he lay in the forest. William leaned forward in surprise. “Jeremy! You said this was PG-13!”

Jeremy shrugged, his attention glued to the topless woman on the screen. Dimly aware that she should do something responsible, Pam hastily clapped a hand over Jeremy's eyes. His dad nodded approvingly but she felt like a joy-killing prude. On the loveseat, Apple and Zep chuckled as Jeremy attempted to pull her hands away.

“Come on, quit it!” he complained. “It's not like I've never seen a lady without a shirt.”

William cleared his throat. “Something you'd like to share with us, Jeremy?”

He stopped struggling. “No,” he said quietly. When the scene ended, Pam removed her hand from his eyes. He glared at her. She glared right back at him.

10:01 PM

The two of them were headed home. In the backseat, Jeremy’s birthday presents rattled back and forth with each turn of the car. On his lap he held a slice of birthday cake on a paper plate. Jeremy kept lifting the plastic wrap to swipe at the frosting.

“You’re not going to eat that tonight, are you?” Pam asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s so good.” He held out a finger coated in frosting. “Here, try some.”

Keeping an eye on the road, Pam wistfully licked his finger clean. “Yum. But maybe save it for tomorrow? It’s awfully late for so much sugar.”

“I guess you’re right,” he agreed.

The perfect summer day had given way to an equally lovely night. The temperature had dropped just enough to be refreshing, but not overly chilly. When they rolled down the car windows, the lingering scent of backyard campfires greeted them. In the criss-crossed suburban streets, they encountered kids playing soccer by streetlight and roving bands of teenagers on bicycles.

“I hope I don’t have to go to bed right away,” Jeremy hinted. “Doesn’t a campfire sound nice?”

While the idea was alluring, Pam felt unpleasantly sticky after the long day. “I know it’s your birthday and all, but I could really use a shower.”

“Me too,” Jeremy said. “Can I go first?”

It was unlike him to be so reasonable. Once they got home, she nevertheless let him go first while she opened some windows to air out the house. Accompanying the fresh air, however, was the sound of clinking glasses and music wafting along with the nighttime breeze. Peering out the window on the second floor, Pam discovered the next door neighbors were having a party in their backyard.

When Jeremy was done showering, Pam gratefully took her turn to wash away the day's grit and grime. She left the bathroom window open during her shower to savor the cool summer air and listen to the crickets singing. After toweling off, she reached into the pocket of her bathrobe and pulled out a jigsaw piece attached to a chain. Slipping it around her neck, Pam admired the shiny metal glimmering against her skin.

Wanting to show it off, she put on her robe and opened the bathroom door. “Hey Jeremy!” she called. Not expecting to find him waiting outside the door, she nearly ran him over as she exited the bathroom.

“Yeah, Pam?” he answered.

“Uh, hi,” she said, tying her robe.

“Hi. I brought you your slippers.” He pointed to the floor where her bunny slippers waited for her.

“That was nice of you,” Pam said, stepping into them.

“Can I open my second present now?” he asked. She understood why he had been so reasonable about showering first. He must have been listening for her to finish and then came running because he was half-dressed, clutching a t-shirt and otherwise wearing only a pair of shorts.

“Check this out,” she said, ignoring his question. Leaning close to him, she plucked the jigsaw piece that dangled from his neck and matched it against her own. The two puzzle pieces neatly clicked together into a single shape. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“That’s my present?” Jeremy said, disappointed.

“No, it is not,” Pam sighed. “I just wanted to show it to you. I guess you don’t like it as much as me. Which I understand.” She used her fingers to adjust his floppy, wet hair. The sun had lightened it to a lovely golden shade of auburn. “Yes, I still have another present for you. Can’t you wait until after I dry my hair?”

“Can’t you do that thing where you wrap a towel around it?” he countered. Jeremy pulled on a clean white t-shirt. It was a basic but classic look that she always found hard to resist.

“All right, I guess you've waited long enough.” Doing as he suggested, Pam wrapped the towel around her hair, then balanced it on her head so it resembled a turban. Then she went into Jeremy's room.

“Why are we going in here?” he said. “I thought you said you were going to give me my present.”

“I am giving you your present,” Pam answered. She leaned against his bed. Though the shades were securely drawn, they clattered with a gentle breeze that drifted through his window. Next door, there was a steady ebb and flow in volume from the cheerful sound of the backyard party.

Puzzled, Jeremy glanced around the room. “Did you hide it in here?”

“Let's just say your present is definitely in this room.”

Jeremy strode to his closet and peered inside it. Pam shook her head. “Cold,” she said.

He opened his dresser next. “Even colder.”

Jeremy wandered over to his desk. Instead of putting his birthday cake in the refrigerator, he had placed it on his chair where it was just begging to be sat on. Instead of chiding, Pam watched as he moved aside half-empty boxes of model planes and checked underneath his bike helmet. He even examined the leafy fronds of a potted plant that tolerated untold amounts of neglect and abuse. “Starting to freeze,” Pam told him.

His head swiveled like a hawk. He took a few steps toward where she leaned against the bed. “A little warmer,” Pam said, smiling. Jeremy dropped to his knees and began digging through the junk under his bed. “Um, a little colder now.”

“This is starting to get annoying,” Jeremy said. Frustrated, he grabbed her shoulders and gave her a shake. “Just give me a hint. Please?”

“Um, you're getting warmer,” Pam laughed, letting him rattle her from side to side.

“What? That doesn't even make sense.” He began batting her with the unknotted portion of the terrycloth belt of her robe.

“How about that? You're moving from warm to hot.”

Jeremy paused, putting two and two together. He began tugging at the knot that cinched her robe. “Getting really hot,” Pam said. The belt came undone and her robe loosened.

“Careful, you're going to burn up!” Pam advised as the young boy opened her robe. Since she had come straight from the shower, she wasn't wearing anything underneath. Her breasts rose and fell in time with her rapid breathing. Pam carefully watched his expression as he looked up and down her naked body. “Notice anything different?” she asked, shifting her feet until they were shoulder-width apart.

“Uh. Gosh.” Jeremy stared between her legs. Where there had previously been a neatly trimmed patch of dark hair, there was now a smooth expanse of perfectly hairless skin.

She could understand his surprise. Aside from a single week when she was attempting to please a college boyfriend, Pam had spent the last thirteen years of her life with pubic hair and she herself required some time to get accustomed to the sight of the hairless mound gracing her girl parts. At first, she had second thoughts about getting a full Brazilian wax, but the awed look on Jeremy's face banished any self-doubt.

“Do you like it?” Pam asked. Judging from the condition of the front of his shorts, he liked it a lot.

“Yeah. You like...” Catching himself, Jeremy glanced at his closet. Pam bit her lip to keep from smiling when she realized he was about to compare her to the models in his confiscated Playboy magazines. Stammering, Jeremy finally said, “I mean, it looks... well, really nice.”

“Thank you, Jeremy. You're so sweet.” She paused a beat. “So where's my present?”

His face went blank. “Say what?”

“You didn't get me anything?” Pam shook her head in dejection, then reached for the hem of his t-shirt. “Can I unwrap you? As a consolation prize?” After she removed his shirt, he shook out his hair. After she pulled down his underwear, he bounced up and down to greet her. Pam took a moment to fondly savor every inch of him. Jeremy, of course, was hairless as always down there. “Now we're like twins,” Pam giggled.

“Huh?” The distracted boy was still staring between her legs. “Oh yeah, I guess we are.”

The wonderment on his face made her wish she had gotten rid of the pubic hair sooner. Pam parted her knees to invite the young boy. “Ahem. Want to play with your present?”

Her offer made him blush. Jeremy stood and lovingly ran a finger across her magically hairless skin. Pam sighed at the electric touch of his fingertip. He was running his fingers across her mound, then down either side of her kitten, not even making contact with any of her delicate spots but she was swooning from the newfound sensitivity.

Her nipples stiffened. “No more teasing, please?” she asked, spreading her legs a bit wider.

His finger found her clit, sending her limbs into a limp ecstasy. It was as though all her senses were reduced to that small bundle of nerves between her legs. There was no shortage of wetness as the young boy fondled her engorged clit. Finally remembering to breathe, Pam lazily spread her legs wider. Her bunny-slippered feet slid across his sheets. Only then did she realize that she had forgotten to remove her robe too, which still hung from her shoulders, as well as the towel wrapped around her head like a beehive. It felt scandalous to be half-clothed while Jeremy was completely naked. Adding to the impropriety was his open window that barely separated them from the small children chasing each other in the neighbor’s yard.

Maybe it was because of her aborted mission to his room at 5 am. Maybe it was because she had been marinating in preteen hormones all day. Or maybe it was the the extra sensitivity from the lack of hair down there. But whatever the reason, Pam could feel the straining dam about to burst. Sometimes she would deliberately delay things to prolong the playtime, but she didn't have that sort of patience today.

“I need to do it,” she said, touching his wrist. “Like, right now. Okay?”

Jeremy nodded innocently. “Why are you asking me for permission?”

“I'm not asking permission. I'm just giving you advance... oh god, don't stop.”

That last word was scarcely out of her mouth when Pam arched her back and gasped. The only thing that mattered was Jeremy's finger dancing on her clit. She crossed her arms, her hands holding her sides, as though to contain the warm pleasure spilling from her body. Her nipples were hard but it wasn’t because of the cool air from his open bedroom window. Holding her breath, Pam hung on as long as she could until she panted from the effort.

It was a delicious orgasm, but Pam knew her sundae still needed a cherry on top. “May I have a kiss?” she requested. She still lay on his bed, her feet dangling off the side, so Jeremy supported himself by placing his palms flat on the bed on either side of her hips. With straight elbows, he teetered atop her, his sharp hip bones digging into her thighs as his own feet left the ground.

In the following weeks, months, and years, Pam would often reminisce about this moment. It was an accident. Really. A result of mere happenstance. Having graciously given her a lovely orgasm, Jeremy was as hard as ever. Having eagerly accepted his attention, Pam was drowning in her own moisture. His erection pointed at her slit like an arrow on a compass. With puckered lips and his body precariously perched atop hers, Jeremy moved closer to kiss her, causing his penis to neatly slip into her kitten in a single, smooth thrust.