The four walked around the neighborhood. He hardly noticed the houses that bored him so – suburban, middle class. House after house, all new, all large, many with pools in back. But he saw none of it. He felt only her female presence. He hadn’t noticed this before. The sense of the female near him, that is. He lived in a feminine house, his mother, his grandmother, his three sisters. Yes, there was Dad – but in this house dominated by dominatrixes – his father was irrelevant. Katy was of another species than his home females. She laughed and sparkled – arousing some atavistic sensation in him – his skin seemed alive; he felt a crackling when she spoke, or moved and when she looked at him. He could not speak, only feel. He wanted to touch her – he was not sure how, the ‘how’ of touching a girl, a woman was something he feared – but he knew he needed to touch that electric skin; he needed to test its soft smoothness to see if it matched the magic of that voice.